#i once again have no idea if i tagged this right

[ilikeyoshi]

"#yes yes yes!!!! #and ngl it makes me want to read or engage with it more too!"

i hope it's ok to point out these tags bc this is SUCH a huge mood i think deserves a little more explanation!!!! (at least from my perspective as both a creator (writer) and fan (of artists))

i used to have a ton of anxiety when creating and especially sharing my works, and my impulse was always to talk down on it, because a) i* (*my anxiety) believed it to be bad, and b) because i had this idea in my head that if i lowered people's expectations, they wouldn't be as disappointed when reading it.

i want to tell you what i've learned in my years of both being a writer and being a fan of artists, and it's that this is a terrible, terrible anxiety fallacy (like so many ideas/misconceptions borne of anxiety are) that ONLY hurts you, your work, and your potential readers(/fans/etc). it SOUNDS like a good idea when you have really bad anxiety, i know, i used to DEPEND upon this idea just to have the courage to SHARE my writing—and i want to emphasize that it's OKAY if you've done this before, it's an easy, easy trap to fall into, but i also want you to try and stop doing it because there are a lot of reasons you would feel better and do better for doing so.

you are what you practice! if you only ever focus on or speak about the flaws in your art, you WILL feel negatively about your art. my very first therapist explained it in a way that still really resonates with me: you have created a well-beaten, highly trafficked "road" in your brain. it is very easy to take this road because even though it's longer to your destination, it winds and bends, it's walked on so much it's flat and easy to traverse. when you try to build a NEW path—in this case, a path where you focus on what you like about your art—you're starting with no path at all. it's all undergrowth and vines and thorns and it hurts and it's tiring and you feel like this will NEVER be easier or feel better than the old path. but you have to keep taking the new one. you have to beat down the undergrowth until it recedes, cut down the low-hanging branches until you can walk with your back straight, and if you keep at it, if you keep at this thing that feels so pointless and stupid and hard, eventually, the path will be clear, and easy to walk, and you'll make great time getting to your destination because it cuts straight through; no winding or bending. and the old path? it will overgrow, and it will become hard and stupid to take. you have to beat the new path because once it's beaten, it'll be the far superior path in every way, including ways the old path was never superior even when it WAS the one you were always taking.

further—as these tags point out, and as i agree with wholeheartedly—by disparaging your art, you DO lower people's expectations. people don't want to be sad, frustrated, disappointed when they look at art—at least, not unless the art itself is trying to tell a story about that. you get what i mean, i hope—they don't want to go INTO something they already HAVE negative reviews on—your reviews! you, the creator, have already told this person the story/art/whatever is going to be bad, and i know, i KNOW it's not your intention, you're hoping someone will see through what you can't and tell you no, no, this is good, i liked this! and some people do! but you make it a lot harder for them TO do that when you tell them right at the beginning, "this is going to be bad, i don't like it," because what you're unintentionally telling them is, "and you probably won't like it either." the first way i learned this was in people always saying in their fanfic summaries, before you even open the fic, "the summary is bad, i'm bad at writing summaries, the story is better trust me bro." because what this does—again, so unintentionally, i KNOW what you're trying to do because i've been you—is you're telling the reader, "here's my pitch, here's the hook to my entire story, it's the worst part, it's bad, but the rest will be better," and what they KNOW is they've already put the time in reading the summary, and it's hard to commit MORE time to something when you've already told them it's bad, even if you promise the rest is better. it's like biting into a fruit and you hate the taste of the skin; it's harder to try the rest of the fruit when, so far, it's been bad (or you've been made to believe it's bad).

so what's the solution? how do you begin beating that new path? well, it depends on you. everyone's a little different in how they navigate stuff like this. but what worked for me, and what might be a good place to start (and by all means adapt as you figure out what works and what doesn't), is start by just NOT saying anything negative. no, "i don't like this," or "the summary's bad, sorry," or anything. write your artist's comment, author's note, whatever as normal, and REMOVE anything that depicts your art/writing/etc in a bad light. just don't give people any opinion whatsoever on what experiencing your creation is going to be like. this, for me, was easier than jumping straight to, "i'm pretty proud of this," or "i enjoyed working on this," because it wasn't withholding AND replacing, it was JUST withholding. going back to the roads and paths metaphor, i think of this part as the "taking a breather before i get to work on this monumental task of beating this new path" stage.

then, overtime, i started "stretching" my positive comments about my works. if i liked, say, TWO LINES out of a whole piece of writing, i'd say, "i'm really proud of this work!" because i AM proud of ANYTHING AT ALL, NO MATTER HOW SMALL, within the work. it's not a LIE, to anyone including yourself, but it is, perhaps, an EXAGGERATION. that's OKAY. we're trying to teach our brain to look on the bright side, to take the new path, and i've found that treating it a little bit like a dog—giving it a treat for ANY TINY BIT OF PROGRESS, was a good way to encourage myself to start making MORE progress. ESPECIALLY because the tags i reposted above are RIGHT: LOTS of people are MORE interested in a work when their very first impression (YOUR impression!!!) is positive. 'the artist/writer/etc is proud of this? oh, i'm so glad they had a good time creating, let's take a look!" it probably sounds too easy if you're still taking that anxiety-beaten road, i know, but try to think of how you've felt when someone disparages their creations versus uplifts them. were you put off by the negativity? were you sad that your friend worked so hard on something and didn't even like it? conversely, doesn't it make you a little excited when an artist says they really feel good about something they made, especially in a world where so many artists ARE feeling inadequate? i hope you see what i mean.

it's not an overnight thing, of course, this took me YEARS. this took a miracle that doesn't happen to most people: i wrote something i felt SO TERRIFIED people wouldn't like, even though i was secretly very proud of it (but too scared to dare suggest i was proud of it), so i indicated all kinds of things like "i hope you like it, i dunno if it's any good, it's just a little thing i'm chipping away at in my spare time" (it was not, it was a full-blown passion project) and, against the odds, a LOT OF PEOPLE told me they really really really liked it. a couple of friends who were decently popular in the fandom it was for liked and shared it and i got A LOT of encouragement. i basically got to beat my new path with a HORDE of helpers, and it was more like THEY beat the path for me and i chased along like, "what is happening, oh my god, what are you doing???"

i got really lucky. that doesn't always, or even usually happen. in most other areas of my life, i've had to beat the path myself. and it takes a long time if you're doing it on your own. but you should anyway, because it's so fucking worth it dude. yeah, it was awesome to get so much help with my writing confidence specifically, but it's been just as worth it every time i've had to do it alone too. and i have good news! there ARE ways to tell people you're on this journey of making yourself a new path. here are some suggestions:

"i'm new/rusty at this, so please let me know what you think!" - informs potential readers/viewers/etc you are learning and gives them an opportunity to HELP you learn. this is a positive interaction! this allows people to find a GOOD experience EVEN if they didn't enjoy the story much, because they can help, and people DO, MOSTLY, like to help.

"i want to improve at [dialogue]" or "i'd appreciate advice on [lighting]." - similar to the first example, but does 2 things: gives viewers specific instructions that can be really helpful for those that aren't sure how/what to critique (surprisingly common thing; the more specific you are about what you want advice on, the more likely you are to GET advice), AND allows you to, neutrally and non-disparagingly, ask for help in areas you don't feel confident about.

"leave a comment if you liked it!" or "let me know what you liked best!" - listen. i don't think 'fishing for compliments' is bad as long as you're not being manipulative about it. these examples are very clear in what they're asking for, which is compliments, positive reviews, etc. and that's okay!!! first of all, lots of people LOVE praising works they like, i promise, and asking them to DOES make them feel like they have "permission" to (i know that sounds silly but i also know if you have anxiety about creating, you have anxiety about commenting, i see you, i was you). secondly, i have gotten the MOST encouraging, confidence-boosting comments this way, especially with the latter example. there is NOTHING more immediately anxiety-curing than a comment that says "i liked [scene/dialogue/character/etc] specifically." it's AMAZING. (also, if you're looking for advice on commenting, this is a GREAT thing to do. imo, this and "speculating/interpreting the work" are the two coolest comments i get they make me feel AWESOME.)

remind yourself, as many times as you have to, CONSTANTLY if you have to: likes/kudos mean someone enjoyed your work enough to press a button. views mean someone liked your work enough to click through for more. these are POSITIVE interactions, they are not "less positive" than comments or reblogs/reshares. i know those last two things are more obviously gratifying, and depending on if you NEED your work to spread (for exposure/commision prospects/etc), very good, awesome ways to support you, and i don't mean to say you shouldn't WANT comments and reblogs/reshares. but for me, it's helped me a lot to recognize that any bit of effort whatsoever means someone LIKED my work. it's also helped me to think of all the times i've shared a link to an artwork in a discord or something, and know that there is an entire, untangible metric i can't and will never see that, sure, i can choose to believe doesn't exist or isn't very high, but i can ALSO choose to believe it happens quite a lot, and the latter makes me FEEL better about my work and makes me want to create MORE, so i think that's the more productive mindset personally. it doesn't matter what the truth is, you know? we'll never know it and it doesn't harm us to never know it. but it DOES harm us to assume no one quietly, unseen by us, likes our work, and it DOES ENCOURAGE US to assume lots of people do.

here's the thing: anxiety disorders fuck you up by making you believe extremely negative, scary, depressing things. the disorder gets worse the more you allow it to make you believe these things, and the only way out, as stupid and hard and at times impossible as it feels, is to say, "no, i don't like that interpretation, i'm going to replace it with a positive one." anxiety is making paths all throughout your brain, and you have to just, make paths too. anxiety needs YOU to make paths, but YOU don't need anxiety to make paths. your paths WILL be better, safer, easier and happier. you just—and i know that is the biggest "just" ever—have to make them.

but i believe in you. i don't need to know you or your circumstances to believe in you. i believe in the sheer amount of control you have over how you face the world. and it's so much more than anxiety would lead you to believe.

i looooove seeing artists & writers proud of their work!!!!! i looooove captions & authors notes that say things like “i’m quite happy with this” “i love how this turned out” “i had so much fun making this”!!!!!! i loooooove when the act of creation is joyful & we take pride in what we make!!!!!!!!!!

[anomalyaly]

right where you left me

Summary: You died. Sebastian secretly had a portrait of you commissioned.

I profusely apologize for the pain.

Inspired by @sychenb for the prompt idea. Also crediting @sloanesallow for her headcanon about Sebastian keeping track of numbers.

(also sort of inspired by Unus Annus - iykyk - and Taylor Swift, if you couldn't guess by the title)

Tags: Angst, F!Reader POV (you), unreliable narrator, vague ship (Sebastian x reader/Ominis x reader), Sebastian was in love with you but never confessed, death, grief, ambiguous ending, overall the sads in general, I cried while writing this

AO3/Wattpad

It had been 279 days since you died.

At least, that’s what Sebastian tells you — your portrait, anyway. It was all that was left of you after the devastating battle you had fought and never walked away from. You hadn’t even known he’d had a portrait of you commissioned when you were alive until you woke up, your body cold, your face illuminated by the flickering candles of the Undercroft.

He comes to visit you every day — some days, he simply sits in front of you, cross-legged and silent. You creep into the frame and study him, the shadows on his face, a haunted look in his eye — unfamiliar. You can only recall a bright, talkative, charming boy with whom you were once close. You didn’t recognize him the first time he visited you, yet his presence brings you comfort.

On other days, you see traces of the boy he was before. He bursts in through the gate talking nonstop about everyone who misses you, about something he saw that you would have liked or that reminded him of you. Sometimes, he even brings you gifts and places them in front of your frame so you can admire them when he’s away.

That’s where he keeps you — hidden behind a wooden crate in the Undercroft like a sacred shrine, untouched by anyone but him. He only speaks with you when he is alone.

Another boy comes in on occasion, and you only know because of the sound of his voice and the pulsing red light of his wand that you can see from behind the pile of crates. Ominis, you remember Sebastian telling you, another friend from when you were alive. Sometimes they argue, other times they refuse to acknowledge each other. But Sebastian always keeps you tucked away, his own personal secret.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he sighs as he plops down in front of you. “300 days since you…well, since— ”

He could never bring himself to finish that sentence, even after almost a year. You never finish it for him.

“Are you going back to Feldcroft?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. I couldn’t do that to you.”

You knew he probably hadn’t been back since that dreadful day. He had only spoken of it once to refresh your memory. He never brought it up again.

“Sebastian,” you say, and he perks up at the sound of his name leaving your painted lips, “how come you always hide me away when Ominis comes in? Doesn’t he want to talk to me, too?”

His eyes flash with something — anger, perhaps, it was hard to tell from your two-dimensional world — and he stands, approaching your portrait. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m only a portrait,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not like you’ve been practicing necromancy.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, but you don’t completely understand why. He turns away from you, fists clenched, shoulders tense and hunched over, before running his fingers through his hair and repeating himself more adamantly. “He wouldn’t understand.”

You remember him uttering a similar statement throughout your short life at Hogwarts — secrets that only the two of you shared, unbeknownst to Ominis until it was too late. “Surely he misses me, too— ”

“Did you love him?”

The question takes you by surprise, though you think it’s not the first time he’s asked it. “What?”

Sebastian whirls to face you, his gaze intense, demanding. “Did you love him? Or did you love me?”

Your portrait blinks, confused. Truthfully, you hadn’t been alive nearly long enough to confirm your feelings for either of them, but you knew that both boys had been important to you during your last few months of life. The portrait of you had only been a time capsule of your fifteen-year-old self — undecided and immature. You’re not even certain if the emotions you feel now are real or remnants of what you experienced when you were alive. “I…I cared deeply for both of you if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your answer nearly breaks him, as if he’s heard it a million times before. He tugs at his hair, the movement causing him to look frenzied and mad. “That’s not what I asked! Who did you — ”

“Sebastian?”

The voice of the intruder causes both of you to freeze. Sebastian pulls himself out from behind the crate and holds a finger to his lips before pushing it in front of you once more.

“Over here, Ominis.”

You hear footsteps and see the red glow of the other boy’s wand, then shuffling as Sebastian strategically places himself in front of the wooden box. The echoing footsteps grow closer, and you straighten at Ominis’s frantic tone as he speaks.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks. “I…I thought I heard…her.”

“No one else is here but me,” Sebastian says, guarded.

You can practically feel Ominis’s internal struggle to believe him. You decide that there have been enough secrets between the three of you — you’re not going to let it carry on post-mortem.

“Ominis? Is that you?” you call out. You hear Sebastian press his body against the crate in front of you. Ominis pushes past him, and they both tumble into it, knocking it over and exposing your portrait.

Chaos ensues at Ominis’s realization. The two boys are shouting at each other in front of you as you are helpless to stop them — Ominis, for having yet another secret kept from him, and Sebastian, for defending his reasonings. You aren’t sure if it’s because of jealousy, grief, or some combination of the two, but all you want is for the noise to stop.

You call out helplessly from your portrait, wishing you could step between them, just as you had done time and time again all those months ago. Before everything had gone so wrong.

Suddenly, hot, angry tears are pouring down both of their faces, and you are overcome with just how useless you are at this moment — a fragmented memory, trapped within the confines of your magical canvas. You want nothing more than to hug each of them, to let them feel your arms around them in comfort and take their pain away.

But you are gone.

The two boys now stand solemn and silent in front of you. Ominis takes a step closer, his wand hovering over your portrait before he runs his fingers along the gilded frame. “Is it…really you?”

“No.” You can hear the flatness in Sebastian’s voice, how tired and worn he truly is. He repeats exactly what you thought only moments before as if to confirm it. “She hardly remembers what happened, or even who we are. She’s just a fragment. A memory.”

You want to argue that it is you, but you know that he’s right. You barely remembered your living self until Sebastian explained everything to you on his daily visits. Whispers of your personality still shine through on occasion, but you are otherwise simply existing.

Ominis sighs, and you can hear the weight behind it, as if he had been holding his breath and finally allowed himself to release it. He traces his fingers along the divots of the frame once more, and you try to will yourself to feel it.

The two boys exchange an unspoken conversation that thickens the tension in the air. They seem to come to an agreement, and you let out a small breath — if you can call it that — of relief when they sit down in front of you and appear to bask in your presence. You stay quiet and allow them this moment — it’s the only thing you can do.

The days that follow are the same. No longer is Sebastian coming in alone for covert meetings with your portrait. Now, you see both Sebastian and Ominis at the same time every single day, a religious appointment that they’ve set aside just for you. They take turns talking to you, even if they can only manage a few words, and you learn to appreciate their company, knowing that you were loved by both of them in life.

Just like old times, Sebastian says, and the three of you laugh.

Christmas approaches quickly, or that’s what they say when they come to visit a short while later. They bring your favorite things from when you were alive — chocolate frogs, flowers, even books, which Sebastian reads to you — and they tell you stories about you and the kind of person they knew you to be. You wonder if it’s true, or if they have created an idealistic image of you since you are no longer there with them. Not really.

Kind, they say that you were, thoughtful, loving, self-sacrificial, and maybe a bit idealistic. You were friends with both of them, after all, the mischievous pair that they were, before everything was taken away from them, before life was unfair. They try to smile for you and remind you that Christmas at the castle is a time for celebration, but you can tell that it’s a weak facade.

You smile back at them anyway.

The anniversary of your death approaches. Neither of them can bring themselves to say anything, aside from a few words to honor you. So the three of you sit in tearful silence, admiring the flowers that they decorated your portrait with. You think you can almost smell the sweet aroma of the bouquets.

Something changes in the air — you can sense it — though you aren’t sure what. You notice it when their visits become shorter, with fewer stories to tell, and fewer presents left in front of your frame. Sebastian and Ominis start showing up at separate times, stopping in for a brief hello before leaving with an excuse. You start to wonder what they are doing when they are gone, but you are unable to leave your frame — only one portrait of you was ever commissioned.

Soon, they start missing days, returning at a later time with profuse apologies about how life was busy, but they still miss you. Difficult classes, detention, studying for NEWTs, and preparing for a career — all of these seem to take precedence over you. But they still manage to make time in all of the hectic day-to-day activities, and you look forward to the days when they do come.

You wake up one morning and realize you are in a different location — Feldcroft, most likely, though you hadn’t seen it since that fateful day. Sebastian hangs your frame up on the wall, promising that he and Ominis will come to visit you more often now that they have graduated.

They don’t.

The length of time in between seeing them grows longer, you’re certain of it. Each time one of them arrives, they look a little bit different — sometimes they have longer hair, other times a bit of scruff around their chins, but they always come in looking more weathered than they had when you last saw them.

You realize that they are doing something that you will never again be able to join them in — growing older. You start to wonder about their lives outside of you, yet your painted mind cannot comprehend what an adult life looks like, forever frozen in your adolescent state. You find that you are unable to relate to any of their stories, and they seem to be holding back in what they choose to share.

I wish you were still here, they always say before they go, and you start to wonder if they mean it.

At long last, the visits from your once two closest friends become scarce, and you aren’t certain how much time has passed since someone last spoke to you. The bright flowers that once decorated your golden frame wither and die, and the little gifts they used to leave stay untouched and unopened. The tiny cottage in Feldcroft becomes a sepulcher of your essence — a permanent reminder that you are no longer among the living.

You can’t help but wonder if it was something you did, if their reasons for not returning were your fault. You can feel the stories that they used to tell you fading away, unable to retain the memories in your current form.

You decide that it’s time to rest.

In the quiet house, just south of Hogwarts, your portrait closes its eyes. You do not wake again.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Try, Try, and Try Again

Steven Grant x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: Steven's always willing to try anything.

A/N: For @ingoldthewizard amazing idea of Troubleshooting but with Steven <3

Warnings: reader who has trouble orgasming by just penetration alone, overstimulation, oral sex mentioned, p in v sex, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 936

Steven moans sweetly, his eyes screwed up tight as he moves, focusing all his energy on the shallow thrusts of his hips. 

“You,” he swallows, his voice strained, “You okay, love?” 

You nod, your hands gripping the bedsheets under you. He opens his eyes a crack to look at your face, to check you’re okay.

Sweat covers your skin as you both rock and move against each other in an agonisingly slow rhythm. 

He’s right above you, one hand on your leg, the other on the headboard as he keeps you folded into a mating press, your knees hooked over his shoulders. He’d stacked pillows under your lower back before you’d started, before he’d made you scream and sob and come so hard against his mouth.

Your body burns, begs for extra stimulation as he moves within you. He doesn’t push in completely, just rubs the head of his cock along your spongy walls, repeatedly rocking against the spot inside that should theoretically line up with your clit. 

Steven had been methodical in his research, making lists of positions and toys that could hypothetically help you to come from just penetration alone. He’d had to stop a few times while on his ‘fact finding mission’, getting a little too hot under the collar thinking about being inside you. Most of these ‘breaks’ end up with you bouncing on his lap at his desk. 

It had been you who had brought it up to begin with, and Steven had been more than onboard once he was sure this was just something you were interested in and nothing to do with thinking negatively about yourself.

“You know I don’t care right, love? I don’t care that you need to be touched here,” he’d muttered in your ear, pulling you into his lap and snaking his hand down to rub at your clit over your clothes. “I love touching here. Love it. I just want you to feel good.” 

You’d nuzzled into his cheek before letting him tilt your head and lick greedily into your mouth. “I know Steven, I just… want to try.” You’d said, a little shyly. 

He’d smiled. “We can try. Anything for you. Especially, when I get to fuck you silly.” 

You’d laughed at the over the top expression he’d pulled while wiggling his eyebrows. 

Steven groans, the cords of muscle in his neck sticking out under the strain of holding himself back. “You’re so wet.” He gasps as he sinks a little deeper, quickly bites his lip as he mentally chastises himself before going back to the same motion. 

You whimper in response, it feels good, too good. You’re drawn so tight and on the edge of pleasure, if only you could just fall into it. Your clit throbs, crying out for the smallest stimulation that you know just isn’t coming. 

Steven grits his teeth as you clench around him, your walls trying to suck him deeper. He gasps with every stroke, the pressure on the tip of his cock making him lightheaded, the sounds of your wetness driving him mad. He so badly wants to give in, to play with your bundle of nerves so you’ll squirm and come so hard on his length. He wants to see your face as you fall into pleasure, he wants to hear your sweet, desperate moans. He needs it more than breathing. 

But he holds himself back. Keeps up that same repetition. 

You wriggle under him, the push of his thick cock is driving you out of your mind. You trust up to meet him a little harshly, trying to get him deeper as best you can. 

He moans again loudly, “Ah, love,” his hips stutter, his stomach muscles clenching as he manages to just stop from slipping further in. “Stop, you’re gonna make me…” he swallows thickly, “I won’t be able to stop.” 

“Please,” You sob, tears in the corners of your eyes and the anguish in your voice breaks his heart. “I need, I need it, please, I need to come, I can’t-” You cry out as Steven quickly moves his hand from your leg to rub soft circles on your clit as he thrusts his hips at the exact same moment. 

Your back aches as much as it can in your position and you throw your head back, whimpered ‘thank yous’ falling from your lips like a prayer. 

He sinks in quickly, groaning in relief as he rocks, sliding his thick length in and out of you in time with the circle of his fingers. 

“You did such a good job, love, so good, you’re so wonderful. It’s okay,” he groans, his voice thick with lust. “You can come now, can’t you? You can come for me.” 

You gasp, tensing as you seize up, pleasure exploding and blooming up your spine. You stammer out his name, grabbing at his arms desperately to ground yourself as he works you through it, rubbing and thrusting and muttering sweet, positive words. 

He slows down, planning on holding himself back so you can try again right after if you want to, but you squeeze his biceps. 

“Steven, please,” you pant, “Want you to come.” 

And he loses himself instantly. He comes hard, swearing as he spurts inside your pussy, thrusting rapidly and trying to get as deep as he physically can. 

He breathes heavily, quickly helping you to put your legs down and rubbing your sore muscles. 

“I’m sorry I didn-”

He kisses you hurriedly, stroking your cheeks. “Don’t ever be sorry for that love,” he presses his lips to yours again, softer this time. “You’re perfect.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[eden-writes-stuff]

Tags: Fluff, Photographer Remus/Model Sirius, modern AU, shy Remus lupin, Sirius Black is a SIMP

Wordcount: 589

"Just this once", Sirius begged, tugging at the camera.

"Why do you want pictures of me? I'm not that pretty", Remus argued, pulling the camera back.

"Liar. You're fucking gorgeous. And I want pictures of you because I don't have any. You have hundreds of photos of me in various states of nakedness, but I don't have a single one of you, and frankly, I think that's unfair." The whole point of becoming a photographer had been not to show up in any pictures and being able to hide behind his camera. Remus sighed and gave in.

"Fine then. But no posting on social media and no making fun of me." "You know I won't", Sirius promised, taking the camera from him "And don't break anything." "Just stand there." He gently dragged him into a corner of their living room. The light was falling through the window, creating a wonderful atmosphere.

For a while Sirus thought, wrote down some poses on a notepad before looking back to Remus. "alright then." He stepped towards him,  one hand on his chest, softly backing him against the wall. "Relax. It's just you and me here", he whispered gently. It took him a few seconds, but eventually, Remus relaxed against his touch.

With a smile, Sirius drew back, pointing the camera and clicking a few times.

"Your settings are wrong", Remus teased from his spot, shifting slightly. "How do you know that?" "Because I know the last pictures I took with this camera and I know that that won't work for posing-pictures."

"Can you fix them, please?" Sirius looked up at him with his best doe-eyes. Remus smiled and took the cam back, changing the exposure time and focus, before handing it back to Sirius. "There you go, try again."

This time Sirius kissed him before pushing him back, leaving Remus with half-open lips and the best look in his eyes. The perfect picture.

"And you say, you're not pretty", he grinned as he stepped back to choose the next pose.

"Get on your knees." "Wow, that escalated quicker than I expected", Remus grinned but obeyed. "Well, what can I say, you look hot on your knees", Sirius replied. He lifted his chin with one hand while taking the pictures with the other one. 

After a few shots, he bit his lip. "Can you try looking a little more in love? This is your boyfriend before you after all." Remus laughed and his features softened immediately. "Perfect."

"Are you done yet?" "One more?" Remus rolled his eyes but who was he to say no to Sirius Black.

The model went over his list, obviously having trouble deciding. Remus peaked over his shoulder, pointing to one idea on the list. "That one." Sirius looked up at him. "Isn't that a bit basic?" "Exactly. I can do basic. Basic is easy." Remus shrugged.

"Alright then, get the chair." They sat the chair with the back towards the camera so that Remus could take the typical teacher/dad pose, which came almost naturally to him. Somehow that was even more attractive to Sirius than the entire rest of the photoshoot. 

When they were finished Sirius went through the photos, before showing the good ones to Remus.

"You know the camera lies, right? I don't look nearly as good as that in reality. That's just light and angles and all that." "I think I'll be in judge of that. After all, I'm the one who actually looks at you in reality." Before Remus could argue with him, Sirius kissed him.

[velvetvexations]

If you want to argue about that specific post, that I had the restraint to not engage with on your own blog, I need you to acknowledge

Sure.

how you trolled the #transmisogyny tag, as you often do,

It's a social media website.

did not show me the same restraint!

I wouldn't call not engaging with the post that sparked your OP here to be "restraint." It is, again, a social media website and everything I post except a vent once in a blue moon is meant to be engaged with.

You came onto my post to, best I can guess, imagine the post I was referring to, imagine that I read it wrong, and present the "correct" reading of that imagined post.

And I turned out to be correct. I'll now explain the correct reading of the actual post.

I'm pretty sure that what I said lines up with what the anon said in the post. I am open to the idea that I'm wrong, and I'd welcome anyone who isn't you to talk to me about it and whether or not anon has an incomplete picture of what transmisogyny is.

Anon was arguing against strict definitions of TMA/TME because of how hard these things are to define. In that sentence, they were asking a hypothetical question about a trans woman - does she suffer transmisogyny if she has not yet suffered anything directly relating to her transition? In context, it's pretty clear the answer is "yes." The point they're making is that transmisogyny is more than seeing an AMAB person in a dress and yelling a slur at them. Transmisogyny takes many forms, often invisible, insidious, and affecting people you wouldn't know it to be affecting.

I thought this section of the reply was going to take longer, honestly.

it is an educated guess that you believed my post was in communication with your discussions of male/female socialization

The general discourse but not involving me specifically lol.

last time we did a diskhorse, You did something pretty interesting! Did you know that you did this? because it sends a specific message!

Yeah, I honestly didn't handle that very well. I didn't intend anything I said to ask you to or imply you should divulge your trauma but I did aggressively insist you were talking about something you insisted you were not talking about and interrogating you about if you were really thinking of cis people doing that. I'm very frustrated with critique deflection and though I tried to play it both ways by acknowledging you personally may have gone through an example of an accusation of critique deflection being bullshit, it was very poor of me to treat the situation the way I did. I did not do you right there and I regret it. Trans women often have claims of transmisogyny unfairly dismissed and in this case I was way too aggro about what I assumed the post was about, and my attempts to be diplomatic were disingenuous and insufficient.

They are really showing their whole ass when someone who thinks they are not tme also thinks that transmisogyny only affects transfems after they come out.

[itsb3anbug]

Helly Animation | Mary by Alex G

just a small animation i made

[heartorbit]

revstar emu save me

[tiffanyachings]

it would have been very beautiful. camilla would have had to cook (horrible bone soup)

[hellogoodbyeitsme]

Broke: Damian is bad at being a Robin because he's too violent

Woke: Damian is bad at being a Robin because he's afraid to hurt people

[allthesmiles]

Rainworld Art month, Day 2: Submerged Superstructure!

Yeah yeah i know the last one i made could've counted as a day two post aswell, since it included the Heart but screw it, May as well have some more fun with it.

I took way longer than i should've on this lmao, hope ya'll enjoy!

(in all honesty I may redo this one specifically, Not exactly the most proud of this one)

[primal-con]

Nobody look at me I’ve been possessed

Special thanks to all the people who voted on that poll and gave their thoughts in the tags/replies, especially @/speckeltail for the scales idea because hEll yes!! (wingless + Megs false cutie mark ver. under the cut)

[chiropteracupola]

a collection of stewards (in no particular order)

[these are going to be used in @butler-battle-bracket! because there are no good pictures that I could find of any of these guys!]

[pagesofkenna]

Just said "sheesh, Kenna, you're the smartest person I know" out loud while reading your tags on the FMA Truth and Ed's atheism post. Then I realized that Indiana probably doesn't care as much for this information as you might lolol

honestly i'd originally written a really annoying ramble about gods in fiction under that post and now i'm so glad i deleted it to write that much more succinct breakdown of my thoughts on the matter

[frau-wilhelm-klink]

For anyone who wants and/or needs Burkhalter in a towel, here you go. (My apologies for not enhancing them, but none of the pictures have ever came out right when I've tried it in the past.)

[no1ryomafan]

ALSO AS A UPDATE: I have not forgotten about the lyric analysis stuff cause I want to do it and I definitely want to do Saga, I’ve just been busy with school so motivation for anything is low right now.

and also uh- I won’t spoil it but the analysis for Saga is going to be less about figuring out who the song is about and actually debating that cause looking at the lyrics its fucking obvious which team member it’s focused on.

[itsb3anbug]

Flies to the Honey