#im feeling pretty disheartened by everything

[palmtreecorner]

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[enden-agolor]

i fucking LOVE the way you draw/write jesse, as someone with a chubby/buff build i kind of struggle with insecurities about my size but the way you draw him makes me feel very good. idk im describing it badly but i wanted to ask if your design for him is more chubby or muscly?

Dude thank you 🥺🩵 You described it very well.

It really depends on which time frame I'm drawing Jesse in actually.

In the beginning, I imagine Jesse is quite scrawny. I mean did you see his work out routine in the beginning? He was was doing sit ups and punching flowers. He was definitely lacking muscle (but had enough to be able to lift Reuben up and down that ladder) and as the first couple episodes progress, he stays scrawny but progressively becomes more scarred up until the Portal Hallway episodes.

The Portal Hallway episodes, it takes place many months after the events of the Witherstorm. Jesse and his friends are going on many more adventures, really honing their skills that they acquired over the past few months. Jesse is much more built now. He's buff and tough with the true heart of a hero. Although, once he and his friends get stuck in the Portal Hall, that's when things take a really devastating turn for him. Feeling hopeless and lost for weeks on end, he begins to feel withdrawn from the positivity he was feeling before he ended up stuck here. Traumatic events keep occuring, and with these events, Jesse is of course drawn to remember and replay the events of Reuben's death in his head. He keeps the most of these feelings to himself because his group is already feeling so disheartened about their current situation that the last thing he'd want for them is to know that he's breaking emotionally, so he ends up taking less care of himself. He starts eating with the idea that he has to stay strong for his friends, but even those moments are rare. Food is scarce depending on what portal they are in, so when he finds food, he'll take anything that will keep his energy and strengths up.

By the end of it all, he's actually put on a significant amount of muscle. But it's kind of like a 'at what cost?' scenario.

Things get a bit better for him between then and Season 2 where he's eating better again and keeping all that muscle, but once Season 2 comes and goes, and with everything that happens in the Sunshine Institute and the Underneath, he loses a lot of weight.

It's only after Season 2, where he stays in BeaconTown and eventually finds a love life with Lukas when he really begins putting on weight once again. He's done with hero work. He's done with going on crazy life threatening adventures. Now he just wants to live life for himself rather than putting others first. Lukas helps him a lot through this, with body positivity and lots of love and affectionate touch, it's all the reassurance Jesse has ever needed to feel okay with being himself again. So he ends up putting on that happy weight that couples typically adopt over time when they're in a healthy relationship. Lukas treats him so, so unbelievably well. Finally Jesse gets to eat food for himself without the idea of needing to keep himself strong and powerful once he's finally retired. He indulges himself in his sweet tooth and loves to eat cookies, cakes, and other baked goods that Lukas will bake or bring home. He also really enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to eat alone anymore. He loves sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his hubby. And the best part, which is something Jesse was horribly self conscious about, is that Lukas loves and adores his pudge. He is so supportive of Jesse's eating habits, but he doesn't hesitate to sneak veggies and fruits into Jesse's lunch box for work.

So yeah uh Jesse is chubby, buff and loved at the end of it all 😍

Here's some lil doodles of him I have lying around. The first one is pretty old and could probably use a touch up since now I don't see much of a difference, but you get the point ☠️

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 14.

Summary: Our second look through Oliver's eyes as he thinks back on the night he and Felix get champagne drunk on the bridge, and then when he gets to Saltburn. Looking around both Y/N and Felix's rooms, he gets to know more about them, and finally he meets the Catton Family.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, reader is said/implied to be high for some of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 8506 words. you have all deserved a good feed and i am here to provide. sorry it's been a week, the dam broke, things are looking good in my personal life which is nice, and i am BACK on main fic nonsense. we get another Ollie POV, please let me know what you think, im so excited to have everyone at the estate and hanging out!! got big plans going forward!! excited to be setting it all up!! yeah please feedback, my darling friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Sometimes Oliver feels like he was put on this Earth solely to exist in Felix Catton's affectionate gaze. Everything else in life is just filler.

That night on the bridge, he and Felix in suits, drunk on champagne and bathed in the twilight of the evening, will haunt him, he's sure. He welcomes it with open arms, surfacing when his mind is idle and elsewhere. Felix smiling at him, Felix trying to bring him closure even if he doesn't really need it, Felix hanging on his every word, ever story he would fabricate to keep Felix's eyes fixed on him and only him. Felix so close, Felix with his arm around Ollie, Felix's thigh pressed up against his as they sat alone on the edge of the bridge.

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Oliver feels dwarfed by him, never more so than these moments where Felix insists on occupying Oliver's personal space, and then some. But he'll never complain; Felix's affection is intoxicating, addicting even. To be so wrapped up in it, in him, it's bliss, though Oliver never wanted to seem needy for such affection, that's why he waits for these moments, for Felix to make first contact. He wonders if Felix had realised the way you so quickly had in the beginning.

Everyone reaches out for Felix, everyone else appears so desperate. Its why Oliver's always held back from touching him, always waited and let Felix make the first move. Felix was made to be wanted, he basks in it; Oliver gives him the chance to want. Isn't there a thrill in that? A novelty?

And to be wanted by Felix... That was a gift in itself too.

Oliver had, admittedly, been worried that he'd lost his chance at that. After sleeping with you, Felix holding him at arm's length, he could feel his grip slipping. Plucking at the strings of Felix's clear saviour complex was enough to claw back into his life, but he now knew his place was precarious, and most tentative of all was everything about you.

So he'd held back from you. On purpose. Often distinctly, even when you'd give these confused, disheartened looks. He tried not to look at you in those moments; his focus was Felix, Felix seemed harder won.

But when he'd tried to apologise on the bridge - at first he wasn't going to bring it up, but it was dark and he was reasonably drunk and the only person who's ever smiled like Felix had been smiling at him in that moment had been you - Felix had, at first, laughed him off. No, he can feel it now, weighing on him; he needs to balance the scales. He wants Felix so bad it aches in his bones, but Oliver knows his want goes beyond just the beautiful boy by his side. Every part of you, how you interact with the world, interact with him, the way you exist and exude confidence and love, drew Oliver in like a moth to a flame. If Felix is the hook, you were the line. The bait, and the trap. The sun, and it's warmth. He wants to always be the focus of your loving, attentive gaze. Always wants you to want him too.

Oliver is the helpless fly in the web you and Felix have woven, to be so lovingly obsessed with you both as you are, and yet still drawn further in, to love the love you share. He feels trapped and utterly helpless against his feelings for you both.

So he has to make it right. Has to make it... even? Was that how to make it right?

But Felix is different on the bridge. Different to the jealous creature he tried so clearly to hide in the weeks before. Something had changed.

"You never need to apologise for making them happy," he says easily, affectionately. Oliver tries to be insistent, that he never meant to get between the two of you. He's rambling and tipsy, but not enough to miss the faint choked noise of what Oliver could have sworn was intrigue that Felix makes at that, but he knows better than to dwell or comment on it. Instead, Felix claps him on the back; "you wanna make it up to me we can say you owe me one," he says far too easily.

"Owe you one what?" Oliver frowns, playing oblivious for a moment as he takes a sip of the champagne before Felix gives him a cheeky wink and a grin.

"Shag, of course."

Oliver does a spit take with surprise, not having thought Felix would be so casual and genuine about it, almost falling off of the bridge in the moment. Felix catches him, arm around him as he laughs through an apology.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry mate," he wheezes, carefully clapping Ollie on the shoulder, "also I apologise for assuming, poor form, sometimes I forget people can be weird about these things- not saying you'd be weird, we've just never spoken about this kind of thing."

It speaks to how much he must genuinely trust Oliver, considering how light the conversation remains. Or perhaps it's the bubbly. Still, Oliver has a little bit of an inkling about what this kind of thing may be. But part of him needs Felix to say it, to confirm his suspicions, to keep stringing him along with further crumbs of hope.

"Assuming what?"

There's a single moment, the way in which Felix looks at Oliver out of the corner of his eyes, smile briefly frozen on his face as he must be considering the weight of what he's about to say. Its in the moment that follows, when Felix laughs almost self consciously and withdraws his hand that Oliver wonders how out Felix is. Oliver had always just kind of assumed - hoped - on the basis of his relationship with Y/N, but it occurs to him that the general perception of Felix, the talk and rumours and gossip that surrounded him, never really entertained the idea that he was actually queer. Felix's affection towards everyone in his life was simply a by-product of who he was, and you're his best friend - and his cousin, according to Farleigh - so of course you don't count, and otherwise Felix Catton was a known lady's man, right?

Not quite, it seemed.

"That you'd even be into guys like that," it sounds so easy when Felix says it, like Oliver can't see the tension in his shoulders as he reaches over, taking the bottle of champagne back. Its almost empty. Oliver doesn't mind if he finishes it.

Felix looks at the sky, at the stars.

Oliver thinks about the VHS tape of Maurice that he stole from a rental store after looking at the back cover. He'd kept it stashed in his sock drawer and watched every week under the cover of absolute darkness until it literally became unplayable. Yes, Oliver liked guys, and spent his teen years having just as many lewd fantasies about boys with posh accents, and charmingly youthful features, and floppy, brown hair, as he did about girls with big, dark eyes, and high, perfect cheek bones, in bright red wedding dresses. His sisters hated Beetlejuice, thought it was gross, but he and his mother would watch it together on occasion, sharing a blanket his gran had crocheted, and a bowl of popcorn. She'd get all giggly over Alec Baldwin, while Oliver couldn't help but fall for Winona Ryder for the duration of the film, every time.

For a moment, he thinks of the sunlit kitchen he grew up in, and his mother cooking Sunday lunch with a record playing. The last Sunday before he left for Oxford. In the yard, he can hear his father mowing the lawn, and he's sure Emily is in her room packing for her own journey back to her third year of studying. But Oliver comes out of his room just as Jump in Line (Shake Senora) begins to play. Serendipity. Already excited by the song, his mother looks up from the dishes, and practically lights up at the sight of her son. She's going to ask him to dance. He's going to say yes. They're both going to love this moment; she says it's their song, and Oliver dances along to their song. When it's over, Oliver won't admit that he's disappointed it had to end, but he tells his mother he'll miss her too when she hugs him especially tightly. For that one moment he hadn't ached to leave the way he'd been for months, for years.

Looking now at the rock in the rubbish that represented his father, there's a momentary pang of guilt for lying so dramatically about him he hadn't been expecting. So he pushes it out of his mind.

Felix finishes the bottle, and Oliver watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Effortlessly beauty.

Oliver wants to focus on his future, not his past.

"Haven't got too much experience with 'em, but that doesn't stop me from liking them well enough," feeling especially bold, he levels a sly smile at Felix, "so if it's all good with you, maybe we do say I owe you one."

Felix blushes the most beautiful scarlet as he barks a loud, pleased laugh. But most importantly, he relaxes.

"It's not that hard," he offers so nonchalantly, amending with a sheepish grin, "well it is, that's part of the point -" but Oliver can't help himself.

"I said I didn't have a lot of experience, didn't say I was completely inexperienced."

"No, I know," Felix's voice turns all smug and teasing, and Oliver can feel his face beginning to heat up as he realised the implications of Felix's tone, "I've heard rave reviews." Oliver had taken the time to have his fun, to have a few hook ups here and there in the past year, usually with girls or guys from town or other campuses who had no idea who he was otherwise. There's only one person who'd be giving him rave reviews, as Felix had called them.

Huh. It's quite the compliment; he had gone out of his way to give you the kind of attention he suspected few people ever bestowed upon you, but rave reviews? What had you actually told Felix?

Instead, considering that this still feels like potentially rocky territory, he tries to bring it back.

"It's one of the few ways I ever really learned how to make people feel appreciated," his gaze drops with his tone, and hopes that Felix takes the bait. The threads that tie back to the story of his unfortunate upbringing, but also perhaps the threads that subconsciously tie his attitude and behaviour to you in Felix's mind. Even if you don't say it, he knows it's part of how you operate, and he's willing to bet that Felix had picked up on that too.

It works. Felix wraps an arm around him, assuring him that he has so much to offer the world. God, he sounds so sincere when he says it; if Oliver hadn't knowingly baited him into the compliment, he would have believed him entirely. At the very least he basks in how good it is to hear Felix say.

They talk through the night, Oliver tentatively feeling his way towards his goal, the opportunity to spend Summer with Felix too, to make sure this connection doesn't wither in the interim. Of course he plays at being humble, at refusing the offer despite how clearly uninhabitable the sob story home he'd made up for himself was, but just as he'd predicted, Felix, ever the saviour, refuses to take no for an answer. Apparently his mother has people stay for months at a time anyhow. Oliver wonders idly if that's where Felix got it from.

"Y/N will be so pleased, I can tell you that," Felix mentioned with fondness. Of course Oliver had anticipated that you would probably be spending at least some of your Summer with them, but he's surprised that when he enquires further, Felix admits, "yeah they live with me at Saltburn when we're not at school, have for ages now."

"What, all the time? They really are a ward of the Saltburn Estate?"

Felix wears a strange little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes; there's an unfamiliar kind of melancholy that doesn't look quite right on him, Oliver thinks, as Felix shrugs again.

"Some people's parents just aren't meant to be parents."

For a split second Oliver feels a rush of guilt as he comes to realise he may have fabricated a life for himself that you had actually lived. In the moment, however, he dips his head, a sign that he understands, that he agrees.

"Then we're lucky to have you."

Felix throws an arm around his shoulders, pulls him in tightly and presses a kiss to the side of his head, assuring him it's no trouble at all.

"What are friends for?"

Yes, this moment would be burned into his brain; Felix so warm beside him, Felix smiling against his temple, Felix champagne drunk and willing to share his life, if only for six weeks. Every fibre of Oliver's being is willing it to work out, willing it to be more than just these six weeks -

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Except the minute he knocks on the doors of the house that looms so large he feels like he's about to be swallowed whole by it, he feels like he's failed a test. The look in the terrifying doorman's eyes, his tone of voice, the unflinching scrutiny when faced with Oliver's continual awkwardness and questions, makes him feel like he's failed several more in rapid succession.

Oliver's actually pretty sure he's never been quite so glad to see Felix as the exact moment he calls out to Oliver with absolute joy. Which is saying something. It's never felt like Felix is judging him, at least not in a way he can't pass. Thank fuck. Felix, in this moment, is the only one who matters, he tells himself.

That being said, Oliver had been expecting you to be by Felix's side when he'd come bounding in to save him from Duncan's scrutiny. That's generally where he's come to expect you. Not that he wasn't grateful for Felix giving the tour, it was just... unexpected.

Honestly, when you appear from a door on the other side of the long gallery, opposite Felix's bedroom, Oliver's surprised by how relieved he is to see you. The room you've exited seems to be themed in pale purple from the brief glimpse Oliver sees, and you've got a leather bound folder in your arms, but neither of those is nearly so interesting as the look in your eyes. Looking back, Oliver sees Felix lounging in his doorframe, looking between you both with patient amusement.

"Ollie!"

Oliver's pretty sure no-one in his life has ever sounded this excited to see him. The only person who comes closes would be Felix, five minutes ago.

"Ollie, oh Ollie - Fi, hold this," you pass off your folder to Felix, who of course takes it without argument, before Oliver's swept up in a tight hug, "you're early, you smell nice," you hug him so enthusiastically the two of you spin for a moment, before pulling back, holding him at arm's length like you're assessing the state of him. Instead, you beam, holding his hands as you turned to Felix, "Fi, Ollie's here! We love Ollie!"

This time when you meet Oliver's gaze, he's surprised to see not just love, but want. You'd worn that look in the weeks before the two of you had fucked, like all you could think about was how you'd once begged him to want you, and how he of course admitted he did. When had he started missing this look in your eyes? All he can think about is that night in the warmth of your bed, the way you'd sounded so fucking certain and needy - of course I want you - and how he can see it in your eyes again now. For a moment his mind and resolve is fuzzy; why had he ever stopped reaching out for you?

"We do love Ollie," Felix agreed with further amusement, and that's when he remembers. Except... this isn't the jealous version of Felix that had shown up in the aftermath. This was the Felix who'd brushed off Oliver's apologies about the whole ordeal on the bridge and proceeded to overtly, if jokingly, flirt with him. Already he feels just a touch more relaxed in this new dynamic that was being set up for the Summer.

Actually, Oliver, for just a second, thinks he may have died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck, Ollie, look at your nails," he hears next, however, and it immediately shatters the illusion as he pulls his hands away from you and your judgemental eyes.

"Don't be mean," Felix chides, and you look up with surprised, as if you hadn't realised your own less than complimentary tone. Looking between Oliver and Felix, there's apology in your eyes.

"Sorry Ollie," you're quick to offer, and he awkwardly tries to act like he's not embarrassed, "I'll give you a manicure, I can paint your nails; we can match!" You smiled brightly, hands pressed flat and warm to his chest all of a sudden, "I match Fi's shirt today; Farleigh painted my nails -" your eyes go wide as if you'd just remembered; "Farleigh; shit."

You run for the door to the blue room. Oliver, deeply confused, watches you go. Then, he hears Felix sigh with fond exasperation, holding out the leather folder. A moment later you burst through the door again.

"Documents. Shit. Thanks, Fi!"

And you're off again.

"Is this... how they normally are just at Saltburn?" Oliver finally asks with faint concern, looking from the door to Felix in the darkened doorframe.

"My lovely cousin is an atrocious influence on our dear Y/N," Felix said with incredible diplomacy. But Oliver's mind momentarily catches on the wording.

Our Y/N.

Just like before, a strange thrill, a rush; he remembers the look in your eyes when he'd first said 'Our Felix' to you. An exclusive kind of possessive, one you'd willingly share with Oliver. He liked this dynamic, he wondered how hard he'd have to push it to get beyond the simple semantics.

We love Ollie!

We do love Ollie.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult at all.

"What do you mean?" He asks instead, and Felix turns to him with that same amused smile.

"They're fine, don't worry mate, they're just high is all," clearly Felix's feelings are mixed on the subject; Oliver knows he has no problems with getting high himself, so he suspects Felix cares more about Oliver's first impressions of his home and his family than he was wanting to let on. You were his right hand after all. There's something endearing about how much he seems to want Oliver to want to be here. Which he does, for the record.

"So this is your room?" Oliver enquires, shooting for brightness, despite the momentary awkwardness. He watches the tension leave Felix's shoulders. It's enough for Oliver, and his gaze drifts, roams around and tries to catalogue every single piece of Felix he can glean from the clutter. Even with an army of servants there's something unkempt about how he decorates the otherwise old and ornate space. CDs he'll spend time poring over, stacks of books, and trinkets, and tchotchkes. Felix even has a balcony; stone railings and enough decorative chairs, and even a lounge and small table, for company.

Here and there in the room itself, however, a few things seem out of place; shoes that didn't look like Felix's sitting neatly by the door, two dressing gowns, one maroon and tossed over the bed, the other in navy and draped more deliberately over the end of the bed. Two glasses of water, one on either side of the bed. Tell-tale signs that clue Oliver in before Felix even confirms it -

"Mine and Y/N's, yeah," he says it so easily, so nonchalantly, no bothering with pretence here at Saltburn, "you'll be staying just next door," Felix continues on with a wide, easy smile over his shoulder as he continued to flit through the rooms, catching light, voice echoing amongst the decorative walls.

"Bathroom," he offers, before turning, adding, "we're going to be sharing a bathroom, by the way, I hope you don't mind," and Oliver finds himself drawn to the sight of the ornate bath, as if on purposeful display in the middle of the room, "otherwise you'd be miles away on the other end of the house," Felix explains, continuing on without even considering his words as he says them. No, of course Oliver didn't mind.

All Oliver can think of is everything that simple sentence implied. Closeness. Implicit want. A sudden flash in Oliver's mind as Felix continues through to the dressing room, of sweat beading along skin and hands clutching desperately at the cool, porcelain edge of the tub, of water sloshing and spilling and overflowing, and the sound of breathless moaning -

He tries to focus, tries to simply watch Felix's hands as he taps idly on the red walls of the dressing room as he lead into what Oliver can only assume to be his room. He stays out of his head, leans into the moment, and lets himself relax as Felix gestures broadly, brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your room!"

It's bright, all wide, open windows looking over the beautiful grounds of Saltburn, honey coloured wood and lamps that glow in such a way that he was reminded of Oxford. Already someone's brought his suitcase up, set it out at the end of the bed; he'd get to unpacking that later tonight, for now he took his time relaxing into the space. Felix had already sat himself down, seemingly at home in the old, wooden rocking chair, watching Oliver, almost like he was trying to hide his nervous anticipation.

"I'm really glad you're here, mate," for just a moment, Felix sounds more honest than he'd been since Oliver had arrived. There's something in his eyes that Oliver hadn't been anticipating, in the brief moment in which their gazes meet. There's a kind of arrogance, Oliver thinks, to calling even a sliver of it something like love, but it's adoration and appreciation nonetheless. It's gone in a flash, too brief to be anything serious, he thinks once more as Felix stands, "right, I will, er... I'll leave you to it."

And Oliver is quiet. It's a kind of reverence, or perhaps it reads like shock and awe at the whole place, but he listens quietly as Felix tells him about his mother's aversion to stubble and ugliness and piercings and -

"Anything else I should know about?" Finally he asks, sensing Felix was close to rambling on a nervous tangent. Thankfully, Felix actually seems relieved by the interruption, assuring him that there was nothing else to worry about.

Felix tells Oliver that he just needs to be himself, that his family will love him. That it's relaxed. Oliver loves Felix dearly, but doubts he, a man who rarely seems to be anything but relaxed, would be the best judge of that. Especially in a place like this. Still, Oliver smiles like he believes him, and watches the way Felix hangs himself back from the door on his heels, almost like a little kid, telling Oliver that his family will be in the library when he's ready.

Library?

His mental image of Saltburn grows with each moment. Soon it will overwhelm him, he's sure.

So he tries, just for the moment, to get acquainted with the room he's been given. His own, honey-coloured piece of Saltburn, if only for the Summer. Hopefully beyond, that dreamy little voice of want whispers in the back of his mind. Another flash of desire runs through him, the image of a quiet evening on Felix's balcony, a purple sky and a glass of scotch, book in one hand and Felix's head in his lap. He'd be too big for the little sofa, legs hanging off the edge, but he's comfortably fallen asleep with Oliver's fingers carding through his hair; when you drape yourself over Oliver's shoulders, there's loving affection in the way you call them 'your boys' -

God he'd been entertaining these fantasies for months, sure, almost since he'd met you and Felix, but never this vivid, never so detailed or hard to push away, to pretend like he'd never had them when he next tries to look you both in the eyes.

Yeah, me and Y/N's room. You're right next door. We'll be sharing a bathroom.

This is either going to be a dream, or the hardest Summer of his life. Pun entirely intended.

The room itself is rather charming, once Oliver finally breaks free of his own fantasies. Charming in a different way to the rest of the house, but in a way that was hard to put his finger on at first. Saltburn was like if a place could put on a performance of itself, none of it felt lived in, or at least, not for a very long time. Except Felix's room, it had his youth and carelessness that gave it a feeling of home, as, for some reason, did Oliver's.

Except then he sees them. Then he understands. There's space stickers on the top drawer of what he can only assume is the otherwise expensive bedside table. Some are peeled off, some even leaving the ugly, half-peeled, paper residue of planets and stars and little cartoon astronauts. The second of the two drawers is in much the same state, but depicting a faded sea creature theme. It's so unexpectedly, joyfully childish. There's two books in the top drawer, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, and a copy of Emma. Oliver swallows hard, trying not to wonder what you must mean by that. Otherwise the drawers are empty, almost hotel-like in it's severe starkness.

There's other little things, however. Fairy lights curled up and around the headboard that glow a comforting, warm white once he finds their switch. A digital clock at odds with the rest of the room's aesthetics, red numbers glowing in the afternoon light. The painting on the wall above the bookshelf that looks far more modern than anything else he'd seen so far on the walls, a rich, blue night sky glittering with stars, and a dreamy silhouette of a figure with a cigarette almost glowing orange against the darkness. Despite the vagueness of the figure, there's a comfort, a kind of love with which they'd been captured that Oliver can somehow feel in his chest when he looks at it.

The little bookshelf itself in the corner is filled with titles he can imagine you specifically enjoying, but a few anomalies here and there - books on botany and Edwardian flower code stick out in particular. It's completed with a small stack of CDs and a CD player gathering dust on top. When he crouches down, however, he's surprised to see an old, portable cassette deck taking up space on the bottom row of the bookshelf, mostly hidden behind several stacks of what appeared to be blank cassette tapes, crammed into the very corner, almost out of sight.

How strange. How... human.

There is an echo of someone else in this room, but to his relief, it feels like you. For the barest moment, he almost feels like he's already home.

It's a short-lived feeling, however, as Felix's words come back to him once more. His reflection in the bathroom mirror as he carefully rids himself of even the barest traces of stubble, doesn't meet the standards he's sure the mother of Felix Catton must hold.

Oliver's never considered himself particularly beautiful, nor did pretty much anyone else, it had always seemed. His mother was of course biased, Felix was filled with too much affection to be considered anywhere near reliable about that sort of things, and you - something inside Oliver squirms almost with embarrassment for even thinking so poorly of himself in the past few moments. Maybe a face like his would make Felix's mum happy, if the look in your eyes meant anything, every time you saw him.

Oliver chooses to leave the way he was brought in, taking a long few moments in Felix's room, leaving it untouched, undisturbed, but treating it like a museum to his best friend, clues about his life he couldn't glean from conversation alone. Felix's bookshelves were bigger than yours, stacked with comics amid countless fantasy and adventure books, but a surprising number of cowboy and western titles, though it's not as if there appears to be any kind of sorting system. There's a ceramic bowl that looks hand made, full of faded wristbands for events all over the world for the past five years. There's a shoebox that apparently used to hold a pair of lady's runners, now sitting at the end of one row that now has 'A Stupid Box For Feefs Stupid Rocks <3' sharpied on top in handwriting he doesn't recognise. A thick textbook about space on the bottom shelf with a cracked, worn spine and sticky tabs seeming to note various pages, various guitar tab books for different, popular bands that Felix would definitely be interested in. Four decks of cards stacked on top of each other, boxes looking so worn and used they were practically falling apart.

For a very long time, Oliver finds himself caught, looking at the little cork board full of photos leaning on top of the bookshelf. Countless photos of Felix, Farleigh, Venetia, and Y/N throughout the years. He hadn't realised just how long you and Felix had even known each other. How long you'd practically been a fixture at Saltburn in the Summer. There's a photo of the four of you all in your bathers, laying asleep on the grass beside the lake, all next to each other on brightly coloured towels, none of you could have been older than twelve; you fit right in along with the rest of them.

There's a photo strip, the kind taken in a booth at a mall or a museum, that Oliver thinks he recognises, but it takes him a long moment of staring at it to figure out why. It's you and Felix, and the strip itself says it's from an aquarium. Smiling. Laughing. You blurry, covering your laughter as Felix looks particularly goofy and pleased with himself, as if he'd just told a stupid joke. The last one has been ripped off.

Oh. Right. He'd seen it while snooping through Felix's wallet a few months ago; the photo had been the reason he'd put the wallet back at all. The way the two of you were kissing in the final photo, so wrapped up in each other, and love, and joy, had made Oliver feel almost physically sick with both want and jealousy.

God, he has to leave, has to stop snooping again and actually find this library and the rest of the Cattons.

Walking through Saltburn's many rooms alone makes Oliver feel like he's constantly out of bounds at a museum. There's hints of life throughout the building, but they're few and far between compared to the ornamental, carefully curated decorations of each room. Even the hints of the Cattons themselves seemed... too purposeful. The little, animated 'Catton Family Players' puppet show is the kind of thing only rich, whimsical weirdos could ever think was charming, and not just bizarre, vain, and haunting in the same way that porcelain dolls were.

But then he hears laughter, and warm chatter from down a hall, and the tinny, purposeful shouting from what could only be a movie or TV show. It sounds so much like his own family's living room on a cheerful evening that it's almost relaxing. Almost.

Because as he's approaching, he realises they're talking about him. They're picking apart the life he'd fed Felix as if it were mere gossip, speaking so airily, their sentiment so clearly out of touch that he'd probably find it amusing if he didn't have to pretend to be living it. Briefly, he wonders if they spoke like this about your life, or if the novelty of you had worn off in the years before. Perhaps you were just glad they could focus their pity and unapologetic classicism on someone else for a change; he couldn't hear you in there, which surprised him. Maybe part of him had expected you to defend him the way you had back at Oxford. Maybe you don't feel like you can at Saltburn. At least Felix sounds embarrassed, irritated as he admonishes Farleigh for having told the rest of the family.

Before he enters the library where the rest of the family has gathered, Oliver pauses by the door, both to get a better idea of what they're already thinking about him, but also because he'd spotted someone watching him from one of the adjacent rooms.

Bleach blonde hair, stars clinging to the tights on her legs, she's reading a book that Oliver can't quite see the cover of. Venetia was written on the collar of the little, blonde puppet in the Catton Family Players; Oliver suspects this is her. Oliver thinks she could be considered very beautiful, if she didn't seem quite so sharp. The way she huffs a laugh and wears a dangerously amused smile after she'd taken her own time in analysing him seems to prove as much. That being said, Oliver's not sure if she's laughing at something about him, or about the fact that they can both clearly hear her family's disparaging remarks about his apparent upbringing.

"Farleigh seems to think he's ghastly," Oliver hears a woman say as his hand comes to rest on the door handle, "why are you and our dear pet even friends with him, darling?"

"Dirt poor, not attractive, and his parents are drug addicts," a second woman's voice seems to surmise as Oliver lets himself into the room, "I can't actually -" but Felix makes a noise as he sees the door opening, and the woman goes quiet as Oliver peers in.

"And here he is now," Farleigh sounds as thrilled as he ever was to see Oliver, "we were just talking about you," like he's trying his best to make Oliver feel as unwelcome as possible. It's... kind of working. Bastard. However looking over at him does solve one mystery; you and Farleigh are sharing a sofa at the back of the room that's only just big enough for the both of you as long as you're tucked up against him, his arm slung over the back of the chair behind you.

And you're fast asleep against him.

The blonde woman on the sofa who shares Felix's elegant, effortless beauty admonishes Farleigh, even though Oliver can tell from her voice she was one of the ones very much talking about him only moments before. Oliver has the grace to pretend like he hadn't heard, though is still glad for the vaguely embarrassed, apologetic look Felix is already giving him.

This has to be Felix's mother, the blonde with the airy voice who immediately gets up to greet him, to assess him.

"Oh, what beautiful eyes," oh thank god, "oh, how wonderful!" There's genuine surprise and adoration in the way Felix's mother regards him, and Oliver can't help but feel relieved, like he's finally passed the first of what he's sure will be many tests during his life at the Saltburn estate.

"Yeah, we told you he wasn't a minger," Felix pointed out when his mother turns to him.

"Oh, but darling, you and pet are kind about everyone; neither of you can be trusted about those you're fond of." Pet? Does she mean Y/N? Suddenly Farleigh's comments over the months make a strange amount of sense. At the very least Oliver's heart begins to sing at the idea of you and Felix speaking so kindly of him to the others that they know you're both especially fond of him... And you both seem to think he's beautiful enough that you mention it when he's not around. Huh.

But yes, the moment the woman explains her aborrance of ugliness Oliver knows he's talking to Felix's mother. At least she seems to like him well enough, going so far as to ask if he'd seen Venetia yet, that even she'd been dying to see him, but had chosen to drape herself around the house as if laying in wait for him. Indeed that's how it had seemed when he'd spotted her earlier, but none of them have let Oliver get a word in edgewise.

Felix's father is the next to introduce himself, all long limbs and warm handshake to match his smile, just like his son. When he asks Oliver about his trip to the estate, Oliver finally breathes, can finally respond.

"Oh, God, don't with the 'sirs'," Felix's mother waves him over to sit down, insisting, "no, no, no, we can't stand anything like that here," though her outburst seems to have been enough to rouse you. As Oliver sits, he hears, syrupy and warm with sleep from behind him -

"Ollie!" As you had each time since he's arrived, you sound so genuinely delightful. Farleigh makes a noise in the back of his throat. Oliver turns in time to see you elbow Farleigh in the ribs.

"I liked you better when you were asleep."

"Fars," your voice drops low, like a warning, and Oliver's surprised by how sharply Farleigh looks away, jaw clenching tightly, "be good." Oliver almost thinks Farleigh might be angry, but then he sees the gentle way Farleigh's holding your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles against your upper arm; from what Oliver can see, he realises Farleigh's expression is almost embarrassed -

"Children, stop bickering," Felix's mother orders brightly, and your expression returns to unbothered and chipper as you refocus on Oliver.

"Hi Ollie," again, then as more of an offer to the rest of the room, "isn't he just lovely?" Oliver flushes, but gives you a fond smile, even as you settle back against Farleigh. Even though Farleigh persists with glaring at him, when he turns back, he rests his cheek against your head, oozing malevolence as he seemingly tucks himself against you too. But he does indeed remain quiet.

After the altercation passes, Oliver gets a brief introduction to one of the other house guests at Saltburn, Pamela, brief being the operative word as she's quickly sent away to ask about tea from one of the staff members at Felix's mother's insistence. Pamela herself doesn't exactly seem confident in the task, but that's once again when you speak up. Much to Oliver's surprise, you give a detailed physical description of the woman - Annie - and succinct directions to the kitchen itself, following it up with a yawn and -

"The Irish one, a bit mousy, might have trouble meeting your gaze but she's nice enough."

Pamela looks far more confident thanks to your directions. Oliver's genuinely shocked at your level of detail and knowledge, but everyone else seems to be so casually used to it.

"She is a bit like that, isn't she?" Felix's mother muses with an idle air, and when Oliver glances back at you, you still have your eyes closed, as if close to falling back asleep, while Farleigh has his faint, fond laughter pressed against your temple.

Before Oliver can even reckon with the moment that had just come to pass, Felix's mother is regaling him with all of Pamela's dirty laundry, before she dives right into pitying Oliver himself, and the sob story of his life and most recent 'tragedy' she's heard.

She looks at him just the same way Felix had. He think of the moment he'd decided to commit to this Dickensian kayfabe, that day in the pub when Felix's eyes were fixed on him, all pity and desire and a desperate need to fix, to save, to be a light in Oliver's life. The way this woman speaks, the way she looks at him in this moment, makes Felix Catton make total and complete sense. Something inside Oliver relaxes; she would not be hard won.

As they circle back around to the tragedy of poor Pamela, however, something about what Farleigh says, pointing out that the tragedy of her was the only interesting thing about her, sticks in the back of Oliver's mind.

Being beautiful and tragic would only ever get him so far, would only ever make him a novelty. It takes another glance back at you for him to realise a little more of why you behaved the way you did; tragic and beautiful and useful. That's the thought that turns over in his mind, even as Felix's mother starts her line of questioning about the sordid details of his upbringing, and Venetia joins them only to stare at him like a bug, and Farleigh only seems to be holding himself back from outright contempt at your behest. You are once again asleep. At least Felix makes a token effort to reprimand his mother, not that it appears to make much of a difference.

Oliver offers what little he can get away with, and feels only relief when Felix insists they start getting ready for dinner. Oliver practically bolts, he doesn't even wait for Felix like he probably should have, just desperately hoping he's got the right door to his own room. Clearly he has, swearing when he's finally in his little piece of sanctuary, but after a beat he realises that even that has been breached.

His suitcase is no longer at the foot of his bed.

In another moment, the door that connects his room to the bathroom squeaks open and there's two more people in his room without bothering to even knock. At least Felix is apologising for his mother. Part of Oliver thinks he should have expected the Cattons to be exactly as out of touch as this house implied, that he should have braced himself better, that it's not Felix's fault, but the apology is still nice.

Also he's rather distracted by the fact that all of his clothes have been organised neatly in the old, wooden cupboard.

"Did someone unpack my suitcase?" Oliver hears himself ask distractedly. Looking back when Felix makes a noise of guilt, he sees Felix sitting on the edge of his bed with an apologetic smile, and you next to him, laying back on the bed and looking at the ceiling.

"Uh, shit, yes, I should have told you," Felix admits, "they do that kind of thing here." Rich, whimsical weirdos, the lot of them, "the maids all report back to mum, by the way," Felix informs him, while you're just quietly swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. Felix's tone turns teasing, however, "so I hope you didn't pack anything scandalous." Oliver leans on the wooden foot of the bed, into Felix's space with an amused smile at the thought - pushing his luck, pushing into Felix's space to play off of the idea of scandal, so close to Felix and his mischievous smile. Felix leans back, the tease, giving Oliver space to quietly say -

"Just my old boxers."

You snicker. Felix grins.

"No, they're used to that, don't worry," but then Felix is up again, almost too close, looking at Oliver like he knows this is all some kind of joke, like he know - like he wants Oliver to keep looking at him, at his teasing smile, at his lips like that, "Duncan will be thrilled." Like this is all a game. Oliver snorts a laugh.

But the moment doesn't last, and Felix is moving again, getting up, telling Oliver a new rule - ahead of time this time. Dinner at Saltburn is an event you dress for, with the kind of dress code that requires a dinner jacket and cuff links and - Oliver would be properly embarrassed if it didn't mean he got to wear Felix's spare jacket. Felix seems almost embarrassed by it all, his casual nature clearly butting heads with the formality of his heritage. In this moment he almost seems childish, it's rather sweet. Judging by your smile, you're endeared by his behaviour without even having to see it; you hadn't even thought to sit up; your eyes have fallen closed, as if basking in this moment.

Oliver watches you, the way you radiate contentment. You were not born into Saltburn, but you'd made it your home. You'd won the love of Felix Catton, and a place in his life, that no-one else had managed to achieve. Hope was a beautiful thing, and you were both in this moment.

"I'm really happy you're here, Ol," Felix finally murmured, and finally Oliver believes him, "I'm sorry everything's so... old fashioned."

"No," Oliver's voice is soft, "it's wonderful."

The pleased smile Felix wears as he heads through to his own room makes everything about this strange, ritualistic, obsessive, critical world worth it. Over his shoulder, he asks if you'll be coming through too, and you tell him you'll catch up in a second. Felix closes the door over quietly, and after a moment, Oliver joins you, laying back on the bed.

"I like your room," Oliver breaks the silence after a moment. After a moment, a hum that's more like a contented laugh escapes you. You mumble a thanks; it's been a few hours since he'd seen you initially, your chatter had died down considerably, it seemed like you'd sobered up a good deal in the afternoon that had just passed.

There's a million things Oliver wants to say in this moment, things he wants to do, questions he has about you, about Felix, about Saltburn.

"It's not-" he finally starts, voice so soft as he finally turns to you, "it wasn't your fault, by the way."

When you turn to meet his gaze, there's surprise and confusion in your eyes, clearly not sure what he was referring to. Its been a long time now since he'd deliberately reached out for you, since you'd slept together, since Felix had first started giving him resentful looks. Things are better now. Much better.

"What?"

All it takes is a deliberate, gentle touch, his hand taking yours, apology in his eyes. Its enough to acknowledge that he'd spent time pulled away from you, that you weren't crazy to think that, and that you weren't at fault.

Oliver's always liked watching you process things, at least when you allow the world to see it happen on your face, not making an effort to hide it. You look down at his hand on yours, grip loose like more of a reassurance; raising your joined hands like you can't quite believe the sight, he takes the opportunity to link your fingers. It wasn't your fault.

Looking deliberately back at the ceiling, he gives you the time and space to process this development without feeling so watched.

"Oh," you mumble quietly, finally, "it's..." you give his hand a squeeze, "thanks?" Oliver smiles, and knows you see it, can see in his peripheries the way you're watching him now, but when he goes to withdraw his hand, you hold him tighter for just a beat, as if on instinct, before you let him go.

"Can I be bold for a moment?" He breaks the moment, breaks the tension, voice light and inquisitive.

"I like your boldness, Ollie, you know that," you respond automatically, matching his energy easily. Sitting up, Oliver turns to fix you with a scrutinising look for a long moment, and you wait, you watch him with eyebrows raised and an amused smile painted across your lips.

"You're sleeping with Farleigh," it's not a question. Your smile grows wider and far more smug.

"Ollie - Oliver - look at me," you prop yourself up on one elbow, gesturing down at your body, "look at where we are," you gesture around at the bedroom itself, "how many Summers do you think unrelated teenagers in close proximity, growing steadily more attractive with each passing year, can get through without ending up deciding to fuck to pass the time?"

Oliver, charmed by your blunt confidence, can't help but laugh, while also being able to connect enough dots to the implication that he should expect you to be just as close to Felix's sister too. You join him in his laughter, finally sitting yourself up. Oliver knocks his knee with yours, deliberate, and watches with a kind of fondness as you immediately focus on the moment of brief contact. You'd missed him, just as he'd anticipated.

But the laughter dies down, and you finally stand, sighing that you should probably get yourself ready for dinner too. Before stepping away, you lean back down with a wide, goofy smile that reminds Oliver a bit of Felix, and gently grasp his chin, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Oliver, a little startled by the gesture but welcoming it nonetheless, feels want burn through his veins momentarily as he watches you head to the door.

"Oh, Ollie, there's some stuff under the sink for you," you yawned and stretched and Oliver tried desperately not to stare at the way your shirt rode up, "shampoo, toothpaste, contacts; junk like that, you know, just in case." Wait, what was that last one?

"Contacts?"

"Yeah," like it was perfectly fucking reasonable, your hand on the door, "in case you didn't bring any or you ran out - there's actually a spare pair of glasses as well, if you'd prefer. Same frames as yours, I wasn't sure-"

"You know my prescription?"

"Yeah?"

"How...?"

You go quiet. You shrug. Its not a real answer.

Right; a magician never reveals their secrets. Its not particularly reassuring for a man lying about a large portion of his life.

For now Oliver just tries to remind himself of the way you look at him, the way you want him, the way he loves you, for who you are, for all you can do.

"Thank you," he says quietly, gives you a smile and hopes you believe it, "you're good to me." He's not sure what about that surprises you, but he catalogues this in the back of his mind. There's something beautiful and, he suspects, rare, about catching you off guard. But your next words are enough to return the favour, have his heartbeat in his ears, hopeful and quick as a humming bird right before you leave.

"Of course I am, Ollie, I love you."

And he's not sure why, but he believes you.

[bowl-of-brain-worms]

im so deep in the dungeon meshi sludge man. im having those late night thoughts you should NOT listen to yknow? but im finding more and more parallels between myself and laios and Bro. I Dont Want That.

not because i hate him, i love that guy. hes so sweet and good and silly. but like. real talk. the way fandom treats him drives me insane and i think its BECAUSE of his relatability.

fans treat laios like hes dumb. "he doesnt know what sex is! hes so oblivious to everything around him! hes a drop out! hes a baby!" My Brother In Christ, he is a biologist. hes explicitly talks about the possible mating habits of living armor. the way he tied thistle to his back definitely aint the way you tie a christmas ham if you know what im saying. he dropped out - not because hes stupid - but because he didnt have the correct accomadations and honestly pretty dogshit coping mechanisms.

does he have trouble with recognizing the feelings of people around him? absolutely! but that doesnt make him dumb!! hes constantly shown to be able to think on his feet and come up with clever solutions to the problems he and the party faces. hes impulsive and doesnt think things through all the time, sure (eating raw parasite for example) but it geniunely pisses me off that people immedietly write off all the intelligent decisions he makes beyond that.

being a drop out doesnt make you stupid. being bad at talking doesnt make you stupid. needing help in certain aspects of your life (in laios' case, social skills) does not make you stupid. its something that i have to tell myself too often and seeing the fandom fall into the same unconcious cruelty of believing someone to be stupid against all contrary evidence is. idk. disheartening i guess. but also maddening.

on a lighter note, i dont think laios is a monsterfucker. hes just a furry. i will not be taking questions.

[echo-sigh]

Hello, Echo. I’m sending this as Im fend up with my friends treatment by k9 and his staff. Im sending this myself as I do not wish for my very close friend to be sent death treats by k9s awful dickriding community. Yes I said it but its true and they was trying to be civil and respectful to him and his staff team by talking about their concerns but was brushed off and banned cause k9 cant handle accountability. They were a person who has been directly impacted by k9s horrible attitude and personality.

I have thorough evidence of the whole conversation within the ticket and how they was treated along with a message that they were typing up that they didnt even get to send cause i was banned.

See message below along with screen recordings of everything talked about on my account in a post as videos cant be sent in asks:

“I quite frankly think I need to be blunt to get my point across as honestly as possible, so I apologise in advance for the tone moving forward, because this genuinely concerns me as a fan of your artwork. I need to honestly express my frustration about how things have been handled today especially as a minor myself. Instead of addressing the issues head-on, it seems like there’s a pattern of enabling behavior that ultimately reflects poorly on all of us. This isn’t just about you k9; it’s about fostering accountability and growth, and right now, that’s not happening.

Moreover, the way this has been approached has made me feel undervalued and disrespected. I’m here trying to support and advocate for what’s best, but instead, I’m being met with defensiveness and disregard. It’s disheartening, and I believe we all need to be on the same page if we want to create a positive environment.

The way you and your staff team are handling your mistakes is not just hurtful to your reputation and community but also wildly ineffective. All it is doing is making this more incriminating. By enabling the notion to avoid hard conversations just because they are *hard* to deal with isn't okay and all you are doing is subconsciously teaching yourself and your fan base that it's okay to hide from reality just because it's uncomfortable and not at all how to real world works.

I have noticed many instances and have given proof of them where these mistakes were brushed aside or excused cause it was uncomfortable to face the truth. Putting a metaphorical veil over your errors and pretending they don’t exist may seem in the moment the best thing to do but this is actually a genuine disservice. It’s time to own up and recognize that making mistakes isnt a disease and is a part of life just like discomfort is as we are only human. If you keep shielding yourself from discomfort you are setting yourself up for a harsh reality check in the future and from experience it wont be pretty.

The reality is that life is full of challenges and if you don’t teach yourself to face them now you’ll struggle even more down the line. You as someone who has a platform, a large one at that should be promoting resilience, critical thinking, self awareness, and ownership of your actions.

Im not only saying this cause i myself am upset but because i genuinely care about this community and its future and believe its time you start being more honest and changing your approach to these kinds of tickets and it starts with the uncomfortable and unavoidable trusts. lets focus on faces our own actions head on rather than suffocating and coddling them. Making mistake are normal and i wasnt trying to make you out to be a bad person for it.”

See videos reblogged before this for context.

[dollivication]

hii its.. its me again..

so.. priest!v.. but hes actually a sorcerer not a real priest and thats js a cover:3 He comes to town looking for a virgin for one of his sacrifices or sum

the church absolutely loves him!! they have no idea of his true nature, they js think hes their holy priest and they admire him for that Hes pretty much their prophet:( hes js a very good actor:( kinda like the fortuna cult in dmc4 skkfkejr

he finds nun!user on the church once and hes like.. absolutely sure that theyre the chosen one for his sacrifice!! theyre js too pretty, theyll be perfect for it:333 so he uses his status as a very trusted and respected priest to manipulate user into trusting him by lovebombing them, telling them theyre special, that theyre the chosen ones (he js doesnt tell what theyre being chosen for lol) and user falls right into the trap bc how can they not? thats the most respected priest their church have!! ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

so he takes them to a forest or sum empty place to finally accomplish his whole mission:3 by the very end when hes ready to perform the sacrifice— he js cant bring himself to actually do it:( he realizes that he became wayyy to infactuated w user to let them go js like that:(

but now user knows his true nature so he needs to act fast!! he ends up seducing them and once again they js cant say no to him not even when they know thats hes a dirty unholy sorcerer<\\\3 so he DOES take users virginity but not in the way he planed to 🫨🫨

to avoid the backlash or risking anyone ever knowing he js packs his shit and leaves before they even notice his absence. of course hes also taking user w him bc theyre his now duhhh!! Maybe they create their own crazy cult in some new place who knows:3

this ones been tickling my brain i need to scream it to the world omfg im cryingkkdkfkdjf

THIS WAS SO??? THIS HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLF.. ANON PLWASE IM LITERALLY ON MY KNEES FOR PRIEST/SORCERER!V……. i LOVE YU SAUR MICH??

he’s literally so “perfect”, everyone relies on him and he promises salvation! whats not to trust?? he KNOWS that he’s pretty much got the entire town wrapped around his finger, he’s not ashamed to do some subtle browsing in women! but he’ll get pretty disheartened, some of the women already have children therefore are NOT virgins, and the others have such dirty minds :/ he needs someone PURE!! that’s the only way he believes his sacrifice can be complete.

so when user fits that criteria, best BELIEVE he’s doing everything in his power to lure user in! and because they’re so innocent, and because he’s got a pretty solid reputation, user is swoooooning :3 his touches grow bolder, his praise becomes more personal. even playing his cards right, he can’t help but actually feel something for his little ol user (◞‸◟) they’re just so… unaware of the corruption he can’t help but take a bit of pity

that small amount of sympathy got out of hand quickly.. he just can’t do the sacrifice!! so the next thing he does is ease user into a trance-like state, kissing them all over while whispering about how he was gonna bring heaven to them. user is so confused and squirmy, but he makes do, because it’s sooo cute to see their face scrunch up when he fills them with his seed<3

as soon as post nut clarity hits, he is IMMEDIATELY thinking “ah nah i gotta get tf out of here”. user is so drunk off his touches that they’re terribly compliant with everything he says, even when he tells them they’re gonna run away together someplace new. they trust him, don’t they? then they’ll know that he only means well and knows what’s best for them >.<

bless yu.. SO MUCH ANON!!! this is itching my brain very very nicely… i want him so BAD ITS SO HORRENDOUS

[inevitably-johnlocked]

i have a confession

recently i had some trouble and had to delete an email

problem is, i used the google docs there to write my fics. and i thought i downloaded them all, but only one of my major ones did, and i lost everything else

literally all of it

i am anonymous because i lost my tumblr acc but on ao3 i am veetheree, and i had this longer dilemma regarding my potterlock fic (pretty disillusioned with rowling and all.that, unsure whether to continue) but even so i saw that a lot of people subscribed to it and i wanted to at least see where the story leads, i had over 300k words apart from the 40k i published

and i domt hve it anymore :') i didnt check the process because it seemed okay and i had other uni and work stuff to take care of, and now i check it and :') it's gone :')) im not doing well, and i am going to delete the fic i think

i dont have the energy to maintain it and i dont want it to be left in the dust either - i have lost all hope for it, and this is just a punch in the gut. and i was proud of the plot and how i intertwined the 2 worlds too

this is mostly just a rant because i dont really have anybody else who can relate to the pain of fic writing and the challenges that come with it

also, as to why i had to delete the email - it's complicated, hacking situation and such, but it happened over 2 months ago so im not able to retrieve it and neither do i really feel like looking into it, im done with that fic for good 😭

that's all, thank you for being a safe space for me to go to, and i apologise to anyone who was waiting for that fic to be updated :(

Hey Lovely *HUGS*

OH GOODNESS, I'm SO sorry you had a garbage time with your email, and even more so, accidentally deleted fics from your Google Drive without saving all of them. I'm TERRIFIED of losing my own fics from my G-Drive all the time (I do actually write and have about 15 "snippets" of fics on there) and back them up religiously.

That said, I can understand how life can overtake literally everything and just make being online Too Much™ – happens to me all the time 💜🖤. And I know how disheartening it can be to just... not have the motivation anymore to continue on with something, heaven knows I've done that plenty in my 40 years, LOL. And Lovely, we have to remember to do what's best for us in the long run.

When I was a teen, I wrote a fairly popular Sonic fanfic series that I never completed, literally left it on a cliffhanger. This was back before even FFNet, and fics were distributed in the Sonic fandom on our Geocities pages via Webring, LOL. After life took over, it still remains unfinished over 20 years later. I recently found the original word docs of all 9 of the stories (with the 10th one half-finished) and while I cringe at my bad writing from back then, I still love immersing myself in that world. One of these days, maybe I'll finish it, because I do think it was a great concept and intriguing storyline that dealt a lot with humanity and sentience, just obviously written by a teenager, hahaha.

The point of that anecdote? We can still love the things we wrote, and still want to engulf ourselves in that world from time to time and not feel bad about it. And if you decide to come back to it a decade from now, that's okay too. You're only human.

And never EVER hesitate to come here for a friendly eyeball to vent to. I try my best to make y'all feel not so alone. Glad to see you are okay, Vee, truly. That's what's most important.

*SNUGGLE BUGGLE HUGGLE* I hope you have a beautiful, prosperous day. And I'm sure your fic-fans understand <3

[forlix]

Hii im srry for bothering u abt it, but I was jst wondering what was going on? Ik we are boycotting lose my breath and all that but what else happened!

everything circles back to lose my breath. the “what else” you’re referring to is the disappointment and disillusionment that stays have been feeling in response to the song’s promotions, which have included skz posting pictures with puth and the ex-idf soldier on the collab’s production team, as well as complimenting puth on national television during their gma performance yesterday. exacerbating the disheartenment is the fact that the boys have yet to acknowledge any objections to the collaboration while it’s common knowledge that they frequently visit even the deepest corners of social media and have been very vocal about humanitarian issues in the past, like felix’s volunteer work. and aside from the members themselves, so, so many stays have also revealed themselves to be utterly and disgustingly immoral in their refusal to boycott in the interest of continuing to “support” skz. fans is now locked behind a paywall and the watermelon emoji is being reported automatically as spam and deleted off the app.

tl;dr, until they address the divide this collaboration has caused, not only among their fans but between them and their fans, because i’ve witnessed so many people choose to take a step back from them in the aftermath of these promotions and the number only continues to climb, shit looks pretty bleak.

and i’m gonna be frank and ask that you guys don’t come in here to ask me to summarize the situation for you because 1) it’s fucking tiring to think about and 2) i’ve already been talking about these things pretty relentlessly for the last week, and you’d know that if you bothered to read through my recent asks. i know i said i was open to talking about how the situation is making people feel, but i’m drawing the line at acting as your personal search engine. thanks

[femciolente]

Tiqqun cursed me to Intellectual Depression...

By : Santiago "Weebu" Pemo

As a French reader, I am much more impacted and attached to French philosophy and its theorists than most people. I feel a deep connection to the language I grew up with and these theories that so deeply resonate with my being, some ideas and vague concepts I have had since the dawn of my political consciousness, that also appear to be fundamental for these intellectuals, way before my time. There is something truly eye opening about finding deeply avant-garde theory in your language, that has also pretty directly impacted the politics of your own country, to a certain degree. Tiqqun for me is the representation of the search for ideals, the insatiable pursuit of knowledge that I experience, and will experience. Dense and complicated, pretentious and critical, Tiqqun's works have everything to be categorized a million times by fruitless adjectives, but the only one truly fitting for such a titan of theory is "impressive".

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Tiqqun was a French philosophical journal, even if i would categorize it more as a periodic publication and recollection of intellectual texts. It was actively published between 1999 and 2001, supposedly dissolving after the 9/11 attacks for fear of repression and a needed break from the political world, as some claim. Why would they do that? Well, Tiqqun was THE most radical publication France ever got a hold of, but specially because the tradition it subscribed into was not a typical one. Insurectionary Anarchism, Situationism and Communization (In both a general and specific manner, we will go over that later), as well as the large French school of Post-Structuralism and Post-Modernism, Tiqqun is a beacon of modern French radical philosophy. And for how complex what the journal propositions can be, It is no surprise that this lovely piece of theory has gone severely unnoticed for the average "leftist". It's a literary piece at heart, a several hundred pages long poem, it's a work of passion to the world of philosophy and theoretical politics. And that is what makes the publication one of the most beautiful yet disheartening concepts to read, as well as being absolutely groundbreaking, and a read that will challenge anyone's unprepared views about many topics, since it introduces complex notions of the "Invisible Party", "Metaphysical Critique Exercices", "The Theory Of Bloom" and of course, their own spin on "Communization Theory".

"Communization" is a complicated topic, a theory not for the weak minded, something pretty much existent in the own confines of our exhausted and depressed intellectual capacities, but it still manages to be fresh enough to be adaptable to everyone. The lack of dogmatism in the writing, the synthesis of concepts and the post-post modernity of its analysis is unlike anything you can currently get your hands on. But the core concepts are understandable, and can make you rethink your own base ideology from the ground up. At least that is what happened to me. Communization, as the theory that rejects the DOTP from a marxist understanding of revolutionary action and procedures, is not a common piece of thought even in online discourse. Im not here to explain in depth this concept (as it is the case for another article of mine), but what Is important here is how Tiqqun took this theory, very marginal Left Communist piece of theory, and built it, almost single-handedly, from the ground up once again. The revolution that Tiqqun brought by explicitly importing Insurrectionary Anarchist ideas, as well as a general anarchist ethos too, to a concept that wouldn't necessarily hold it, was the stepping stone towards the erasure of "Anarchist"and "Statist" labels in the ultra left, leading to a much more fluid interaction and development of ideas, breaking the dogmas that can follow the Meta-Narratives of certain strains of "left wing" ideology. Meta-Narratives that still hold a lot of theorists back when it comes to the full liberation of their brain, towards a greater understanding of the world, even if that might come with far greater consequences, like absolutely breaking your hope and desire for the world, but not in a very Nihilist way, but a purely emotional sense. Tiqqun is very emotional, and more than anything, it appeals to the individual's understanding of them, and what that said individual wants to take for their own personal benefit. It's what I would call some kind of very well executed decentralized communal thought process.

And this is key In my personal development, as I originally came from a much more orthodox Anarcho-Communist conception of ideology, with its own dogmatism and ingrained fallacies that even back then bothered me, this fluidity and lack of strict structure that the ideas of Tiqqun have allowed me to break down the walls I imposed on myself. And that is what makes their version of Communization so specific. Not only they detail and talk about the general concept that an author like Dauvé could have, but they go further than him. They always do. That is the magic of the journal, going as far as it is possible to think. Their analysis is clean, including some fairly (and sadly) forgotten theories like Situationism at the heart of their vision, specially when they mention anything to do with the "invisible party". Avant-Gardism is the core ethos of what Tiqqun wanted. They did not want to be comprehended by the general population, they didn't write for us to use our texts as proof of the subjective validity of our ideology, but a job. They had a specific vision of the world, a ruthless one, one that did not spare any badmouthing of any concept as long as it fit their worldview, one that is marvelously constructed. A worldview Guy Debord would have been proud to read.

But you simply cannot just read Tiqqun for enjoyment, as that would be too complicated for anyone with less than 50 degrees on philosophy. You read Tiqqun to experience the whole thought of the "Invisible Party", and you do so with an aim : to criticize your ideas. Tiqqun, for the more well read and fundamentally built reader is primarily an exercise for contrasting metaphysics. The variety of the texts, and the diversity of what they are able to deal with in those gives a complexity to their thought I have barely seen anywhere else. Tiqqun is not a manifesto, Tiqqun is a collection of the greatest thoughts of the french ultra-left of the 90's, one very much involved with all the social movements of its time but retaining its "armchair" critique typical of other strains of Left Communism. But why would anyone listen to them? Why care for Tiqqun? Because the modernity of their ideas is something that will put you in a state of "intellectual depression".

No, this is not a Deleuze reference (even if it might as well be). It is simply a statement to the greatness of Tiqqun's writings, ones that challenges you so much, you stay in a state of perplexity that is hard to achieve with most theory collections. Tiqqun made me depressed, because it challenged my traditional views so much, that I could never conceive traditional modern theory the same way. It radically affected my relationship with not only political and philosophical texts, but also with the politics that affect my day to day life : parliamentary politics, for example. I no longer trust what I used to, I no longer want what I wanted, and I no longer seek what I tried to find when i first embarked on the world of politics. Nothing feels enough, I want more. Satisfaction became a secondary need, but reflection and constant upgrading of my own ideas is what I aspired to, like I mentioned at the beginning of this article. Even my actions, at the scale of my fairly boring small town changed, the discourse I have with people interested or not on politics has changed so much, to the point that I feel as my ideas are exclusive to me. Exactly what Tiqqun is all about, but that does not mean it's a concept full of positives, specially living In a world where our action is necessary and important, even if at times fully pointless.

Holding radical positions in pretty much any aspect of thought is exhausting in the stage of deceiving and worse than before social democratic compromise reformist policies of the present day, one that does not even serve the petty bourgeois it sought to protect to begin with. Repeating the same things, same concepts, theories and ideas over and over again to people oblivious to them is the greatest challenge an active militant or passionate anti-capitalist can face. But the breath of fresh air Tiqqun's expression and interpretation of the classics, as well as an introduction to the newer theories that SHOULD take a larger part in our new theoretical and practical developments is very much needed in the modern day landscape. It's the best of both worlds, In a style you can hardly dislike. Why? Because of the variety of it.

As I mentioned at the beginning, Tiqqun is a collection of texts, but it didn't exactly end in 2001. The publication of several and very complex, pretty much full scale books around 2004-2010 revitalized the scene, specially taking into account how un-finished their work can seem to some. It is not a fully developed program, a truly new political ideology or thought model, but simply good theory, and these newer additions completed an already rich project. But what was important about Tiqqun's post-mortem publications is not anything published under their name, but more so an associate group that can very much be the same people that conformed the original secret council of the Tiqqun redaction, that being "The Invisible Committee". As many of you know, this neo-Tiqqunist collective made one of the most important works out of the modern french scene, named "The Insurrection To Come", a book so popular, it was the object of all the far right moral panics on an international scale, doing ravages to the brain of Fox News redactors. But what really mattered there was how it affected my perspective, as it was one of the first texts of the sort that i ever had the opportunity to read, and is considered a cornerstone of the insurrectionary movement as a whole, revered globally and by a large variety of individuals, on and outside of internet discourse. Yes, it is not Tiqqun, but its closeness with the original intellectual group makes it a product of the original thought of the Invisible Party.

Game changing, In every aspect, even on terms of rights and politics, on domains of repression of radical thought, even. In November 2008, Julien Copat, one of the known members of Tiqqun's redaction was arrested by french authorities under pretext of "Participating on a terrorist action that derailed a train" In a small locality in the rural center of the nation (Tarnac, hence giving its name to the "Tarnac Affair"). And this case, that lasted until around 4-5 years ago, caught enough traction for my young and impressionable brain to know about it, years later when the case resumed after a long break. And this was the first case I ever saw where radical thought leaders were attacked falsely based purely on the radicality of their writings, something pretty much without precedent at that time. And it was the reason why I even know about the publication to begin with, and so was the case for a large amount of young teenagers, who got a newly ignited passion towards these ideas, brewing ever since the intellectual rebellion of May 68, bringing more air to the scene than any other project before. It has been one of the few judicial cases I went deep in, and that exposed more clearly than any other case in modern times, how the punishment great thinkers receive under the rule of the bourgeoisie. It was an event that radicalized me indirectly.

The reason why I consider Tiqqun to be so heavy on my brain is because of how real it is. Never had I seen a fusion of extremely theoretical and technical philosophical theory mixed with a focus on praxis without precedents, specially in a time where political actions from the proletariat are ramping up in power, intensity and frequency once again, like a clock. Tiqqun represents the non-nihilistic view of revolutionary action, with the sadness that comes with knowing the truths behind the movements and the ideas that power them. That is what brings sadness to my soul. It was a necessary step in my development, and I feel as if it's just a reflection of what the general population can feel about the exploding liberal status quo, but the people on our side of theory know the reasons why. Tiqqun gave me the keys to understand better the world but also the revolutionary thought that i wholeheartedly stick to, and at the same time, Tiqqun amplified my Capitalist Realism to levels I had barely ever seen before. Tiqqun, In all its greatness, doomed me to intellectual depression, and I will not recover this time.

Thank you Tiqqun, really.

[moorishflower]

hi!! im absolutely astounded at the amount of depth and heart thats in all your fics, and im also very floored at the amount at which you write—im at a cross between admiration and maybe jealously lol!! I wanted to ask, are there any fic of yours (sandman or not) that you think are underrated/deserves more attention?? super excited for everything you ever write!!

asdfg anon thank you <3 So I have a Problem where I have a lot of anxiety about what I create, and when that's writing, if I am not writing The Next Great Novel, then I need to sate the brain demons SOMEHOW, and writing a LOT is the easiest way to do that. I want very badly to please people, and fortunately it's not a hardship for me to write the amount that i do, though I AM trying to consciously like. Take breaks if I need? Take a night off? Keep it healthy looool. But that I'm able to write things that people are consistently finding value and meaning in is a continuous and beautiful marvel to me so thank you, thank you very much!!!

So I read your second part of the ask wrong at first and had gathered uh several fics which I think are underrated that are NOT mine

One Half of a Whole by @violetequus8 - Absolutely REMARKABLE post-apocalyptic literature. Equus captures an entire world and history in 4000 words. There are sentences in this fic that rewrote my brain chemistry.

The entire like this slumber that creeps to me series by @tobrokenstone - THIS. This is survival the way I fucking LOVE IT. Bleak, stark, hard decisions, lasting consequences, surprisingly tender cannibalism (this last may be...specific to me and a few select others lol)

Once again repping the point-set-triangulation series by therm0dynamics, which is singlehandedly the series that got me into Hob/The Corinthian (it's about MIRRORS it's about PARALLELS)

And at this point I realized that you'd asked about which of MY fics I think are underrated, and I was just so caught up in the thought of repping my friends that I lived in a world where I did not write for a moment loool

Salt and Rye is the result of a prompt on tumblr. I wanted to try and capture that feeling of recreating a parent or grandparent's recipe and failing, because it's SUCH a disheartening moment, but I wanted to make it lighter, because Hob has someone there to share the comedy of it with him.

Here there be dragons is my latest fic in the Siren AU and I do think that people who aren't into scifi in general will be more likely to give it a pass, but I'm very proud of it, and very proud of the emotions it evoked in ME, and I promise it's not hard scifi like The Martian or even really pervasive scifi like Star Trek! I just tried to think realistically about what our planet would look like and feel like in 1500 years, and how we might need to leave it. Also, Dream's still a carnivorous octopus man.

an act of faith is the vampire fever dream that struck me at like 3pm on a Saturday and I blacked out for like two hours and this was what I'd written during that time. I enjoy writing obscene levels of devotion and you can't really get much more obscene than "willing to tempt death year after year even though no one's asked you to in order to prove to YOURSELF that your lover loves you"

Honestly I don't think many of my fics are underrated! They're all written at different points in my development and my understanding of myself as a writer, and they range pretty widely in terms of theme and genre sometimes, so some, statistically, are going to be kind of niche! And that's okay! I guess the only thing I'd say is that even if you think something isn't your jam, unless the tags are specifically triggering you give it a try! The worst thing that'll happen is you get a paragraph in and then back out again. An extremely smart person (it was @xx-vergil-xx <3) recently said something along the lines that part of healthy interacting with art is also knowing when to put it down, but it's also important to give different things a chance so that you learn more about yourself and your preferences. I myself am trying to expose myself to and write more angst? Because it makes me deeply uncomfortable to do so! But that's a valuable feeling to know and recognize! Idk i just think we all get different stuff out of writing and it's just nice that I've been able to provide something to so many people <3

[fearowkenya]

Digimon Survive Week: Day 4 - Supporting Characters

Winds of Change - Chapter 8: Winds of Change - Part Two

“Yes, you screwed up in the waterway. Yes, shit’s dire right now.” Dracmon tells Shuuji. “Yes, it’s true that everything I’ve learned from the past is screaming that we’re fucked, that Lopmon’s memories are as good as gone. But the past doesn’t dictate the future, and it certainly doesn’t take into account what you’re doing right now, or that every single thing you’ve done since the second this egg landed in your arms has been for Lopmon’s sake. The strength of that resolve could very well change his fate—just look how much it’s already changed you!”

The answers to Shuuji's questions are disheartening at best, and he feels worse than ever about what happened in the waterway. Thankfully, Dracmon is around to remind him that although he cannot change the past, he's more than capable of changing the future.

As usual, ao3 link in source, extended author's notes below!

ok yeah maybe it's a stretch to spin the @surviveweek prompt "supporting characters" into "characters that are supportive (: " rather than "secondary characters", but i had been planning on doing this before The Dracmon Chapter was split into what is now chapters 7 and 8. I couldn't pick a (canon) secondary character i was interested in enough to dedicate art or fic to, and what i'd originally been planning for this prompt could also work for one of the others. i probably could have also used this chapter for the "future" prompt later this week, but i have other ideas for that one. so here we are!

i love the scenes scattered around the game where takuma is desperately trying to play charades with kunemon. he has no idea what that little guy is saying at all, and even if the player picks an answer that takuma seems confident in, we'll never really know! i think that's great. kew!

editing this chapter was pretty quick since i'd already gotten through most of it before i decided to split the dracmon section into to parts. that said, i did spend so much time rereading it that i ended up worrying that this chapter wasn't exciting enough. you know how it is. speaking of editing, i really cannot estimate when chapter 9 will be out. it's the last one, and when i gave it a once-over earlier i spotted a lot of things that i want to fine-tune. so we'll see! thank you for your patience - i hope getting two chapters in one week makes up for it a little.

"mattie can you elaborate on dracmon's fresh and spicy mysterious backstory??" no (:

i can elaborate on why i picked dracmon for this conversation though! in part5, it really stuck out to me that dracmon was the one to pull takuma aside to be like "hey you gotta keep an eye on shuuji , somethings fucked". im pretty sure he did it TWICE! there's also a point where kaito is watching shuuji freaking out in the waterway and asks dracmon smth to the effect of "isn't there something we can do?" and dracmon being like "not really no ): ", so it seems like the entire situation was weighing on both kaito and dracmon more than they made it seem. i thought it would be nice to give dracmon the chance to talk to shuuji after it was all said and done and see for himself that he's okay now. as for kaito…? well, we'll see. as for the lore, i'd already started using dracmon to explore the effects of repeated death and regeneration on the memory of digimon in ocean wave, so it was convenient to keep using the same character. also he's my favorite.

so full disclosure i did play a character (a terriermon named nova) in a digimon ttrpg that has a bad evolution and then loses his memories. nova's memory loss was probably a touch more intentional than lopmon's potential memory loss, and his bad evo wasn't a result of something his partner did , but a choice he made for himself. it's been a lot of fun exploring how it happens for lopmon, because it's the same flavor of angst as what happened with nova, but both the context and fallout are pretty different.

lastly, i really do think that if the waterway hadn't happened, kaito's trust issues, minoru's paranoia, and saki's fear would have eventually come up anyway. it manifested as mistrust toward their partners because of what happened with lopmon, but maybe in an alternate truthful part6 where wendimon doesn't happen, we get the library back and the Horrors are unleashed upon them there instead. would've LOVED to know what kaito's were, but i dont think it's ever touched upon other than kaito showing up to the kenzoku fight like "hey what the fuck was that." i know minoru definitely had a library scene but i dont remember what it was, but he was hiding under a desk for a bit??? and then i think saki mmmmight have one in harmony and in moral but i cannot for the life of me remember what they were. i digress.

i hope you enjoyed the end of The Dracmon Interlude! thanks for reading (:

[broodsys]

venting abt creative woes feel free to ignore <3

it has been really hard for me to post art, both drawing and writing. it's not just about engagement/lack thereof or abt concrit or about anything in particular. i just get so caught up in comparisons and breaking things down and wanting to be objectively "better" at it and idk if i'm even enjoying it anymore.

sometimes i think seriously about stopping? i'd still create but. just for me. idk.

and im having mixed feelings about fandom in general. idk. it's late at night and it's been dark for too many hours and ik that's putting me in A Mood(tm) but it's still been! hard! and i get sad and frustrated and self-conscious all the time

it just feels like im out here putting my ugly shit next to everyone's polished pretty pieces. and ik, ik, two cakes, i've been trying to internalize that, but it's hard right now. i cannot stop thinking about the pretty fics ive read and i cannot stop being so fucking envious of them and it feels gross! like i should just appreciate them? they're lovely, mine doesn't have to and shouldn't be a replica, etc etc, all these things i know intellectually, but... ugh.

and it's extra frustrating bc i know ppl like my stuff, esp my writing. they do! they've said it! ppl who have no cause to lie to me, strangers, etc. but i just can't feel it and im so... envy demon has a fucking hold of me lmao.

might be circling back to the going too fast/pushing myself too hard thing again. but i've just been dealing with the constant undercurrent of severe frustration with everything i attempt. i try to shake it off but idk, if it's this consistent...?

ugh. idk. i've been going back and forth on this for a while. do i push through? do i try to drop my standards? do i just keep all my stuff to myself? unknown.

like, no matter what im finishing my bigfic. for me. but idk. should i even bother posting it? it's not... it's not about engagement. it's about the fact that i feel like the whole thing is just kinda... an embarrassment? like i cannot stop looking at it thru the most critical, least compassionate version of a potential audience and it's fucking with me so bad. when im writing i enjoy it, i think it's cool, i think it's good. but then i post it and after a while im just so embarrassed. i still think it's good! but it's still also embarrassing! i've worked hard for years to learn to trust my audience, to not spoon-feed them every bit of information and then follow it up with a quick confirmation just to make sure they're getting it, but now i feel like i'm being drawn back into that.

i read it. i've reread it a few times, in fact, for pleasure and not for editing. i love it? but im also so embarrassed by it whenever im not like... actively reading it. it's just disheartening.

idk. it's my personal baggage more than anything ig.

anyway im genuinely not asking for my ego to be stroked here or w/e, just- this has been weighing kinda heavily on me for quite a while. it's very frustrating.

[the-wolfpack]

experiencing gender and sexuality as a polyfrag system is so weird

like im a cis* gay** man

if we want to go in further depth: i appear in the headspace as a twink (cringe)

which is pretty opposite of the truth when it comes in contrast of what body i inhabit, being specifically a trans bear

it’s weird looking in the mirror because while everything that matters in the long run is fulfilled, there is yet that dissonance when it comes to seeing myself differently than how i perceive myself as i am in headspace

and obviously that’s the dissociation coming into play, but for the most part i align with our physical ‘truth’ being that when we go out in public we pass as a cis man

there is a luxury there in passing and not having to think about being trans in most social situations, especially in the past of not having to do much on the medical transitioning side when it comes to passing

we were born tall and relatively up and down and having small breasts that only taking 2 or so years worth of testosterone and being off it for about 2 years now that we still pass extremely well

but there’s more to it obviously

luckily we have a lot of men in our system but we also have a lot of women too

there’s some women who are fine with the body we inhabit because their connection to womanhood is not as tied to the body for feeling acceptance and understanding as women and are fine with having a vagina that mostly works right

not to mention we grew up as a woman or at least a girl, so those experiences are still there to draw from to understand what being a woman is like

but we also have trans women alters, which i know is controversial in the wider system community, but they exist and have their own feelings

and maybe it comes from years of trauma and bullying from not feeling woman enough when bodily we were a cis woman—for being mistaken and teased, being called a man, not being feminine enough

but we have trans women alters and while not all of them feel entirely the same, a lot of them experience dysphoria in a completely different way that some cis men (myself included) and trans men do in system—not to mention the cis women here too

one of our trans woman alters has a lot of dysphoria of hearing her own voice being played back to her, or detests all the body hair we have, and feels sick to her stomach that when she goes out in feminine clothes and her wig she believes she just looks like a man in drag and is hyper aware of how people perceive her

and i feel for her because those are extremely difficult struggles that i personally don’t have to face

and obviously all our trans fem alters don’t have the same lived experiences that singlet trans women or bodily trans women system do—we all have the luxury and safety as presenting as a cis man

but when any feminine alter tries to dress femininely in public there is the same fear we assume trans women also feel— so while not being bodily a trans woman ourselves we can empathize with some of the struggles they have and i think it’s interesting

our gender goal i guess now is to be genderfluid because when our old host fused and basically left we all scrambled in trying to understand who and what we are

there are still a lot us who want to go back onto testosterone— to get rid of things that are changing back because our body creating estrogen again, but there are a lot of us who are excited to see the day when we can present more androgynously as a baseline so when they want to dress more femininely they won’t feel the dysphoria of not being woman enough

also let’s not forget the enbies in here who just wanna fuck around and do whatever with gender presentation

and this ties in with sexuality of course because being perceived as the correct gender when you’re into someone is important— you want them to see you for what you perceive yourself as and it’s disheartening to some people who aren’t seen good enough in the gender they have for xyz reasons

like when i wanna be with a man while i don’t mind being seen as a trans bear i wish i could be seen as my true cis twinky ways (cringe)

all im saying is i honestly don’t know what to make of the gender confusion as a system who identifies as so many different genders and sexualities but the acceptance of gnc people and trans people is important also along with sexual liberation and acceptance of who people want to love

i just really hope we can get to a point in our lives where we are comfortable being genderfluid for whoever is fronting

maybe science will let me get a working dick i can take off at will for the people who wanna pussy it up in here later

this has definitely not been an easy journey but it’s just some thoughts i wanted to get out and i hope some other systems can relate to this feeling too and other singlet genderfluid people can understand to some extent as well

also disclaimer: i don’t condone systems who are not in certain marginalized groups appropriating the suffering that those marginalized groups experience

in reality we are all in a trans masc white jewish body and that is how we will be perceived and treated as such and our experiences should never talk over actual marginalized groups who actually deal with the hatred society throws at them for things that are immutable about them

but that also doesn’t mean going to the other extreme and saying that our feelings don’t have place because i have been there and i have witnessed how others feel in our system especially when it comes to gender and how their dysphoria and pain are real and even their euphoria about doing certain things that also enforce their gender as well

there’s this really great comic that talks about another systems journey through gender and im going to add it in here because it was really liberating seeing another post of someone who felt very similarly to how we do about our presentation and its done more more neatly than this long winded ramble lol

(credit to @akabirdie with this awesome comic they made that we reblogged a couple months ago when it popped up on our dashboard)

i also welcome other systems or genderfluid people to reblog and share their experiences too—i think having a dialogue about this is important because knowing that other people out there who experience this thing is important to me and us as a whole

thanks for reading

-dave from the wolf pack

——————————————

*cis headspace wise

**sexuality is complicated cuz im mostly attracted to men but there have been women i have and will go straight for so identify as gay for the most part

[lambotel]

whats your biggest pet peeve! be so real btwww im so curious. also your blog is gorggggg

thank you, i appreciate this. i cant give just one, so here's a "list". i do not like liars. i hate when someone stops being friends with someone and then proceeds to ruin that friends life / friendships / relationships; just because you guys didnt get along well for whatever reason, doesn't mean they're a terrible person, it's really disheartening because i feel like everyone has done this at some point in their lives (keep it to yourself and start a journal). i hate people who don't practice what they preach (this applies to anything and everything), it's hypocritical and concerning. i hate when people feel the need to put a label on absolutey everything, on that note, i hate labels and i hate the word "aesthetic" or how someone from one "aesthetic" hates someone from another "aesthetic" its just so weird. i hate when people overuse words like cringe and slay. i hate when people cant move on or let go and proceed to talk shit about someone and a situation that no one but them give a fuck about (keep it to yourself or start a journal). its kind of weird and stalkerish. i hate when people complain about someone in the past but still keeps tabs on them regardless if they ended on good or bad terms. i hate when people cuss too much. i hate when people use terms incorrectly. i could go on but i have love for everyone regardless of my pet peeves, im assuming pet peeves is smth you think about a lot? and everyone has them, and im sure others have some about me. this is quite interesting.

sorry, i probably sound really hateful rn but you asked so you recieved. i dont judge people or complain a lot but i thought it would be cool and okay to list things that i bave witnessed my loved ones around me do. this is not directed, i have a pretty calm life irl and on the internet but i pick up on these pet peeves based on the things people rant about their life in my asks inbox or what people rant about directly to me. again, love for everyone. this second paragraph sounds stressed because im not tryna hurt anyones feelings.

[dichromaticdyke]

skwisgaar feminism word salad response anon on another tangent again !! (is 💉 taken for an anon sign off? didn’t see so in ur beloved anon tag but i’ll be usin’ that for ease of communication on both ends)

regarding the shows take on gender: i definitely agree in the sense that it has a lot to say about gender, as well as the take of “deliberate critique of misogyny” vs “the show kinda also sucked with women” co-existing statements!!! i think in this case it just makes the internalized misogynistic fandom space behavior so much… worse in that sense, though? yes, the show did suck with women and their focuses, but with the show’s critique of celebrity + metal culture thus lending dethklok to view women of objects… it just feels like when the fandom discounts women in the show just as easily, it’s falling into the same trap dethklok does and i would argue that gets into the whole other issue of glorifying dethklok despite the fact they’re portrayed (initially, anyway) in a sort of always sunny in philadelphia “don’t be like this” way. which then turns the fans into a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts but that is a WHOLE other tangent-

either way, it’s disheartening to watch at times.

as for depth of the show vs sometimes it’s not that deep, even for how the fans react:

1. i adore ur analyses please continue having these fits of divine madness

2. i agree sometimes it’s not that deep! sometimes fans just want to watch two guys kiss! and that’s okay!

and i definitely agree that people don’t leave their implicit biases at the door when entering fandom (and i am forever grateful you do not leave your gender studies degree at the door either; truthfully, i would not feel so open critiquing the fandom with any other creator, as your perspective is inherently unique due to a variety of factors)

but i guess my whole perspective is… yeah, it feels a lot like there’s a portion of the fandom that doesn’t work on their inherent internalized misogyny, even on tumblr, which goes back to your post regarding skwisgaar finding all women beautiful and how his willingness to sleep with fat and elderly women has become a joke to many. of course, it also gets into fatphobia, lookism, and ageism, which honestly the ageism confuses me considering most folks are also thirsting after literal middle aged cartoon men but i suppose in their minds it’s different because they’re men and “not geriatric” or something.

in the latter case: cowards, all of them, as there is an inherent beauty to aging (and skwisgaar would agree)

-💉

(also im sorry for word vomiting in your inbox AGAIN there’s so many thoughts and not enough words but like ily and everything you do for the fandom. ur brain is galaxy level always)

ehehe don't apologize dear! i'm honored and proud that i've created a space where people do feel comfortable to talk to me about feminism and lesbianism despite the overwhelming focus on men within this community (again, understandable given the context of the show, but it doesn't make it any less exhausting sometimes).

i don't really have much to say in addition to this, you hit so many points i agree with! i remember some mtl creators talking about how if you can't meaningfully recognize where the show is satirizing oppressive thoughts and behaviors and instead reinforce those behaviors through your own actions, then you're not mature enough to be engaging with the show, and that's pretty much my stance on it! again, as we've mentioned, there will always be people who don't unpack all their internalized biases, and it's very easy to let those slip through even in good faith, but that's basically the viewpoint i have.

dethklok can be genuinely awful people sometimes, and we're not meant to agree with them on everything, and we have to remember that. as much as they've become massive comfort characters to me, i would guillotine all five of them irl.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

tw nccsa/online csa

im seeking advice and maybe reassurance/validation about a situation I'm not sure how to proceed with

when I was a younger teenager, I had a friend who was several years and grades above me who had inappropriate boundaries with me

We would talk pretty in-depth about sex, make sexual jokes and softcore NSFW content for each other/discuss it. this also extended to stuff like rape and conversations about that and pedophilia, to weirdly casual points (dropping a mention about rape/non-consensual sex and borderline roleplaying those scenarios wasn't uncommon). we also met through someone who explicitly groomed me and who was way older than me, and they never spoke out on this dynamic /our age difference ever despite being a "good older friend"

After 2 years of this, I realized i had inappropriate views on sex and sexual boundaries and these conversations stopped. we talked maybe once about how it was weird/they gave one apology, and then we never brought it up again

My issue is i no longer understand how to deal with our.... relationship, at all. Their apology was only prompted because a mutual friends of our brought it up. nothing has happened since, but i feel really awkward and tense around him. We've never really talked about it in-detail. i don't want to stop being friends, but i also don't want to keep being friends, and have had flashbacks while in conversations

I also don't know if i'm way overplaying our relationship and how/if anything we discussed was inappropriate for our age diff at all. help

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through.

It's tough when power imbalances exist in unhealthy or abusive relationships, even if they are not strictly romantic. Age gaps can exacerbate these imbalances, as the perpetrator often holds an advantage over the victim. Respecting boundaries becomes even more crucial as people get older, and it's disheartening that it seems he has not taken full accountability for his actions.

It's completely understandable that you feel awkward and tense around him, considering everything he has done and his lack of full accountability. Deciding what to do about the relationship can be incredibly complex. Please know that your well-being should always be your number one priority, including your mental health. If being in contact with him continues to be distressing, particularly causing flashbacks, it's important to consider whether maintaining the friendship is truly beneficial for you.

You deserve full autonomy in making decisions about this friendship. It's completely within your rights to choose what feels best for your healing and growth. I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun