#need to work out some more specifics on some of the questions

[mcyttitleswap]

new event alert!!!! what is this?

Inspired by my other event, @treebarktitleswap I, @thatapolloguy have decided to run a full fandom event (and there WILL be mod applications soon because I am going to lose my mind if i do it alone)

basically, people think of titles! it can be anything from a song lyric to something a streamer said on stream, or something from your own wonderful mind. they submit these titles to us. We compile the titles into a list.

artists and writers or any other kind of creative will then have time to claim the titles. It’s low stakes non-competitive, but artists and writers can only pick 3 at a time just for their own sake.

artists must draw a sketch, or more if they want to.

writers must write 300 words, or more if they want to.

if they need to drop a prompt at any time or swap it out for a new one, that’s a-okay. its intended to be low stakes, non-competitive

presumed faqs

firstly, before I jump into some questions, this event will function on don’t like don’t read. I personally find it far too difficult to moderate things based on ever-changing creator boundaries and fandom accepted stances on RPF. With that said, the archive warnings of Rape/Non-con and Underage will not be allowed, and additionally incest and adult/minor relationships will not be allowed.

Are NSFW works allowed? No, for ease of modding, this event is SFW only, although mature rated works are allowed as long as they are not rated mature for sexual content. Implied sexual content is allowed.

Is shipping allowed? Yes, shipping is allowed.

Is RPF allowed? Yes, RPF is allowed.

if you have specific questions about a tag or a genre that is or isn’t allowed, shoot me an ask.

this event will be accepting all MCYT fandoms.

[dailymanners]

I was talking with a friend the other day about bullying, specifically the more subtle and insidious forms of bullying that are more common among adults, like mobbing, character assassination, and ostracization. These forms are especially common in the workplace, but also pretty common in activist circles.

One thing we talked about was how some people can have a hard time distinguishing someone bringing forward a legitimate criticism of someone's behavior to their friends, colleagues, or fellow activists vs. trying to start a character assassination with the end goal of isolating and ostracizing someone (aka bullying or mobbing).

People will often just go along with mobbing for a number of reasons, maybe they're afraid if they speak up and defend the target they'll become the target themselves. Maybe they already had some pre-existing animosity towards the target so they're happy to go along with the mobbing campaign.

But often, I think people just either fall victim to the bystander effect, or they trust their work colleague/friend/fellow activist. Maybe they've only had good experiences themselves with the perpetrator leading the mobbing campaign, so they have no reason to question what the perpetrator is saying or doing. Or maybe they themselves have never been on the receiving end of this kind of bullying (character assassination campaign leading to isolation and ostracization) so they don't even recognize it for what it is.

What they also probably don't realize is usually the only thing that separates them from the victim is how useful and/or non-threatening they are to the perpetrator.

My friend brought up a really good point on how to distinguish between legitimate criticisms and concerns about someone's behavior vs. mobbing/bullying/character assassination. Listen to what they're saying, are they focusing on what they say this person is, or what this person does?

Are they saying things along the lines of "This person thinks they're so much better than everyone else!" or "This person is such a weirdo!" or "this person is so crazy!", or are they giving specific examples like "One time this person said or did this specific thing that I found troubling/disturbing/offensive."?

If they only have vague things to say about someone's character like "they think they're better than everyone else" "they're crazy" "they're a weirdo", how do they respond if you try to defend them and say something like "Well I don't think they think they're better than everyone else, I think they're just really focused on their work." or "I personally don't think that person is crazy, they just seem like they're really stressed out right now and maybe not managing it well." How does the other person respond if you try to give another perspective, do they get angry or offended that you would dare offer a different perspective, or do they even make you feel afraid or intimidated that you might not just agree with them on what they have to say about someone else?

If they only have vague statements about someone's character (they're crazy / they're so lazy / they're a snake / they're snobby and think they're better than everyone else) but can't give specific examples of the other person's actions, and especially if they get angry and offended that you disagree with their claims about the other person's character (when not being able to provide examples), consider that you may be witnessing character assassination with the end goal of isolating and ostracizing the target as a form of mobbing/bullying.

Of course, this isn't a steadfast rule, and there is a lot of nuance here. You really need to consider the context. If you have a personal relationship with someone outside of a professional/activist, such as a friend, romantic partner, or family member, it is more normal to vent and use more vague terms without having to provide specific examples while venting to your loved ones. And hopefully, if you are someone's friend/romantic partner/family member, and know them on a personal level, you hopefully know them well enough to know whether or not they're the type of person to character assassinate as a means of trying to isolate and ostracize someone. Not always, but I hope you do.

In professional settings, or settings that can/should call for a certain level of professional behavior such as activism circles, not only is it not professional to call your colleague a snake or crazy or a stuck up snob to your other colleagues, also consider that these are settings and circles where people are more likely to have ulterior motives if they have something to say about someone else's character. Your bestie or partner or mom might not actually have much to gain if they tell you their co-worker is a lying backstabbing snake or a stuck up snob, but your colleague who is competing with the person they're trash talking for a raise or a leadership position does have something to gain from a character assassination.

So when someone is trash talking to you, I advise you to always consider if they might have something to gain from assassinating the other person's character. What, if anything, could they gain from you thinking less of the other person they're talking about?

Another reason this isn't necessarily a steadfast rule is because of course when someone character assassinates (with the end goal of isolating/ostracizing the target as a form of mobbing/bullying) it's not uncommon for them to tell half truths or even just plain lie about something their target said or did. Also not uncommon, saying something their target said or did but taking it out of context (think of that one scene with Fred saying "I hate Coolsville" from the live action Scooby Doo).

So my best advice if you don't want to accidentally find yourself complicit in a group mobbing/bullying of someone (via isolation and ostracization) is to always make an effort to form your own opinions of someone instead of just taking someone else's word for it.

Of course, as with anything, there is nuance. You have your safety, and I'm not just talking about physical safety, but your emotional/mental well being to consider. If someone, especially someone you know well and trust, warns you about someone else, of course it's normal and healthy to exhibit an appropriate level of caution around the person you were warned about (which you can do while still being civil and professional towards whoever you were warned about in most cases).

Generally though, if you hear something unpleasant about a co-worker or fellow club member or fellow activist's character, and you don't have any hard proof of it for yourself, consider that this may be a(n) (attempted) character assassination, and consider forming your own opinions rather than taking their word for it.

This isn't usually a topic I'd write about on this blog, but character assassination leading to mobbing/group bullying/isolation/ostracization of the target really is more common in the adult / professional world than apparently a lot of people are aware of, and too many people just go along with it because they blindly trust the perpetrator and don't realize what's happening.

And of course it is more common in some settings than others. When I worked food service and retail I can't say I ever really witnessed or experienced this. Maybe it's because I almost exclusively worked for small businesses, so there really wasn't much of a social or financial ladder to climb that might motivate someone to character assassination and mobbing. Maybe shift work also lessens the likelihood of this behavior. Of course this type of behavior happens in the service industry on shift work, but in my experience it doesn't seem to be nearly as common as it is in office settings.

Once I moved on to office work, where there were more social and financial hierarchies to climb, I was disturbed at how common this kind of behavior is, and again, how many people just unthinkingly go along with it because they blindly trust what their colleagues tell them without considering the possibility of an ulterior motive, like being a bully.

I also advise you to show a good heap of caution towards anyone who is eager to trash talk and/or gossip, especially with people they're not all that close with yet, and especially in settings or situations where they could have something to gain from a character assassination.

TL;DR: always take trash talking with a grain of salt, and give people who are the target of the trash talk a chance if you don't want to be complicit in group bullying.

[flightyalrighty]

Hey you got an advices for a newbie who thinks about doing commissions? :>

And did you have any bad experiences? (You don't have to answer if it is too private)

I won't go into detail for any bad commission experiences, but I can at least tell you what I learned from em in the form of the advice you asked for:

PRICING! When figuring out pricing, ask yourself the following:

What is an hour of my work worth? This question helps you avoid underselling yourself aka selling under minimum wage. You're definitely worth more than that. $20 is a pretty good starting point for folks who aren't too confident in their own stuff.

How long does it take to complete an art piece? Create one sample of every type of commission you want to sell. Time yourself when you make them. Whatever amount of time it takes to create each piece multiplied by the hourly wage you've set for yourself is going to be your base price for each thing ($20 x 2 hours for a full body sketch = $40). You can also use the samples you've made to help advertise in your commission post and show your potential clients what it is they can expect from you!

How should I charge for add-ons? Once again, figure how long something takes, and shoot for something that seems both fair for you and the client. For extra characters or something like a background, for example, I charge an extra 50% of the base price.

PROBLEMATIC CLIENTS! Got a client that doesn't know what they actually want? Too wishy washy? Too nitpicky? There's a solution! Offer a limited amount of revisions. I offer two free ones, personally. Once the client is out of revisions, I charge them 20% for each additional revision, and I MAKE SURE THEY CAN SEE THAT ON THE FORM THEY FILL OUT. That way, clients are encouraged to get their WHOLE idea in order before going to you. No one wants to be charged extra for a mistake they made, after all -- And it's definitely their mistake if they leave out any details they later deem important and want you to fix.

THE AFOREMENTIONED FORM TO BE FILLED! I used Google Forms, personally. It makes your little business look a bit more professional AND it helps you keep track of multiple projects at once, while prompting the clients to give you the info you specifically need (like reference images). It's good!

BE PROFESSIONAL! You're more likely to get repeat customers if you maintain a professional customer service attitude while handling clients, and deliver your work as promptly as you can. Delivering work PROMPTLY is definitely something you need to imagine me circling and underlining. Please do your best to not take, like, a year? To complete a commission? It's a really bad look. Treat it like homework. Give yourself your own little due date to work with.

While we're on that! DEFINITELY send your clients WIPs while you work! Showing that you're making progress is a great way to get feedback from the client before it's too late to change anything, PLUS it keeps their mind at ease about the possibility of you potentially taking their money and running.

KEEP YOURSELF SAFE! Speaking of taking money and running, set up a system that works when it comes to charging clients and delivering the goods. I have been burned in the past and have learned from this. Some artists charge their clients upfront before delivering anything at all. Personally, I'm not a fan of this, because then it leaves the client open to feeling uneasy about possibly getting scammed. Obviously I'm not a scammer, but to lift the weight of that possibility on the minds of my clients, I charge half upfront and half upon completion. This way, I already have SOME money so the client isn't gonna "dine-and-dash" me, and the client, likewise, is holding the other half of the pay in a friendly self-imposed hostage situation. I do recommend this!

I also use Paypal to INVOICE my clients. This way, I have full control over the nature of what I'm charging and can avoid the client accidentally (or maliciously) sending a payment with something in there meant to get my Paypal account shut down. DO NOT WRITE JOKES ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE CHARGING YOUR CLIENT FOR. DO NOT GET YOURSELF IN TROUBLE FOR SOMETHING STUPID.

And this is all the advice I currently have on me! I hope it helps!

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1126

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashing, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms, medical treatment

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo Slutty Omega

A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N II: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

**Apologies for taking so long getting this part out-had an accident at work and will have limited used of right hand for a bit.

Series Masterlist

Part XI

Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original posture collars were redesigned for auto-erotic asphyxiation. It fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."

The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see the deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.

****

The doctor gently scrubbed her neck with a fine-pore sponge and commented, "You felt it, didn't you? " The question took Dean off guard and touched his neck, "How'd you?"

"I noticed the claim mark while I was removing the collar. Finding an O you're biologically compatible with isn't easy these days, and even more so for the owner to claim them if they are." Dean doesn't respond. "'Course, it's none of my business. I'm seeing a lot of soft tissue abrasion but no skin necropsy. That's good. Bruise cream will speed up healing." The doctor shined a light into her mouth. "Has she attempted to speak?" Dean admitted he had not heard anything outside coughing.

"I am concerned about this inflammation in her throat." They pick up a swab. "I'm going to have some labs run. Make sure it isn't from an STI since O clinics are only obligated to run standard STD testing for appearances." Slipping the swap into a sterile tube notices the Alpha's confusion.

"Several years into Hibbing, there was unrest brewing about selling people, so the government mandated all O's must have their hymens intact before the first purchase and made propaganda reels still shown in schools to program the populous in believing they're not mistreated." The doctor moves to a cupboard, pulling out a sterile pack.

"Truth is, these O's are versed in various sexual acts by the time they're teens. Going by the physical, I'd say she's been repeatedly throat fucked with that collar on; undoubtedly, it's also done some damage to her vocal cords. But if you're willing, you can do things to help." They gauge Dean before continuing.

"Give her nothing too hot or cold, only room temperature. Tea with honey, soft foods only need to swallow, nothing chewy, and protein supplement specifically for O's. If lucky, she'll recover enough to be understandable but be prepared for the worst, that she'll never speak again." They began preparing a site near the original implant. "I'd normally like to wait on the suppressant; it'll slow down healing. But with her current physical condition, going into heat would be detrimental."

They continued talking, oblivious Dean's vibrating with anger in muscle memory: unable to stop the strangers hovering over his Omega because being tased several times had temporarily left his legs unusable; furiousgrowls bounced around the room when he smelled her blood. Needing a distraction before his instincts swallow him, Dean turns his attention elsewhere and eyes the collar.

Running his fingers over it, he feels the visual bumps and discovers slim, horizontal boning embedded in the leather and hears the doctor comment, "They're constriction rings, function similar to cock rings without the pleasurable effects."

Dean's habitual guilty-as-hell caught in his throat. He failed again to see what was right before him. He shouldn't have kept blindly believing his dad's continued quoting of that damn pamphlet, that him treating it like any other person confused its lower intelligence.

Sam's snide comment that only dick Alphas believed in that antiquated bullshit led to the latest round of Dean physically getting between them before punches got thrown. His wonders what level of dick his brother now considers him is interrupted by the phone's ringtone.

"Hey Bobby, no, still at the clinic. What? Sam's registering shouldn't be an issue; his paperwork is all there." Dean listened to the Betas ranting. "Alright, I'll head over there and deal with it." Then came a list of errands the Beta needed him to run made Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Just what he needed; more things slapped on his overflowing plate when he felt the O coming around, ending the call to focus on her. "Hi, sweetheart. Have a good nap?"

She turned towards his voice, spotting the IV pole, and glanced down at the tubing protruding from her wrist. She peered at him and blinked three times, the signal for question. "You have something going on in your throat and need some antibiotics and fluids. Listen, I gotta run out for a while and deal with something at Sam's school. Will you be okay?"

That's when it smacked Dean; something had shifted between them. If he allows himself to be honest with himself, it scares him. Refocusing on the O, he's unnerved by her concerned expression, too similar to Sam's, and feels relief when she blinks once for yes since he's unsure how to react to her becoming more in tune with his internal feelings.

Grabbing the three-quarter-drank bottle of rotgut, Bobby doesn't bother with the glass; he feels it burn his throat as he polishes it off. Banging the bottle down, he stares at the wording on the paperwork and understands why John was so cagey about his questioning about Frank. The sonuvabitch knowingly mated his children; that practice hasn't been done since before the Omega plague. And knowing the temperament of the man, it wasn't to get Dean out of dire straits because he is John’s son, but for the older Alphas' continued vendetta.

The Beta's mind whirled with questions, but one kept popping to the forefront- who or what made her appear out of nowhere, and why now?

The longer he broods, the more he's convinced it has links to Mary Winchester. Picking up the cordless phone, he dials a familiar number. "Hey Bobby," a female voice warmly says. "Guess you're not calling to find out who to bet on in Sunday's playoffs."

"We both know the Vikings are going to the Superbowl," there's an amused laugh on the line, "Keep telling yourself that. So what can I help you with?"

"I'm not sure where to start with this one," Bobby admits and hears cards shuffling through the receiver. "It'd be best to go back to the beginning. And keep the drinks down to a minimum." He glances at the new bottle he had sat on the desk just before calling, "How'd you...?"

"I'm the best damn psychic in the state," Pamela reminds him, "So start talking, or I will reverse the charges for this call." Bobby makes a vexed noise at his fellow Betas' cheekiness.

"In 1986, I met a man with two small boys looking for answers."

Part XII

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67 @elmolovesw33d

[hrizantemy]

Weeks turned into months, and somehow, against all odds, Nesta was… good. The word itself felt foreign, strange even, as if it didn’t belong in the same breath as her name. Good. She whispered it in her mind sometimes, testing its weight, its truth. It wasn’t perfection—far from it—but it was solid, steady. It was enough.

She found herself waking up without that familiar pit in her stomach, the one that had made every morning feel like a battle before it even began. The days no longer dragged her down into the darkness she’d come to know so intimately. She didn’t dread every hour that stretched ahead of her. Instead, she lived. She moved through her days with something she had almost forgotten—purpose.

It wasn’t some grand transformation. There were still bad days, moments where the shadows crept back in, whispering doubts and regrets into her ear. But they didn’t consume her anymore. She didn’t let them. On those days, she let herself feel the weight, but she also let herself move through it, knowing it would pass.

And, much to her own astonishment, she was happy. That word felt even stranger than good. Happy had always seemed like something meant for other people, for Elain with her gardens or Feyre with her perfect little family. But now it belonged to Nesta too. It was small, quiet happiness—found in the warmth of sunlight through her window, in the pages of a book that drew her into another world, in the sound of laughter shared with someone who didn’t expect her to be anything but herself.

Taryn had a way of appearing just when Nesta needed her most, though she would never admit it out loud. She didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t pry or prod, but her presence was grounding. They had developed an unspoken rhythm, a comfortable give and take. Taryn would knock on her door with a knowing smile and a bottle of that smooth liquid Nesta had come to enjoy, or drag her out to hear music at the tavern, or simply sit with her in the quiet of her small apartment.

Nesta found herself smiling more often, laughing even. It still caught her off guard sometimes, how natural it felt. It didn’t feel like she was pretending or forcing it, like she had in the past. This happiness was real, strange and fragile as it seemed. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself hold onto it. She let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she deserved it.

Nesta had found a job, though she wouldn’t have called it that at first. It was more out of spite than anything else, but spite was a good motivator, perhaps the best one she had. The idea had come to her in the middle of a tense conversation with Cassian during one of his visits—if they could even be called that. He’d offhandedly suggested that maybe she ought to “find something to do with herself” instead of wallowing. The words had stung, as they always did, but instead of snapping back, Nesta had steeled herself. Fine. She’d show him. She’d do something, if only to shut him up.

The bookstore was small, tucked away on a quiet street she hadn’t even noticed until she’d been wandering aimlessly one afternoon. The bell above the door jingled when she stepped inside, and the air smelled of old paper and faint lavender. Shelves were crammed into every corner, some leaning precariously under the weight of too many books. A frazzled-looking woman, with hair coming loose from its bun, had glanced up from the counter with a harried expression.

“Looking for something specific?” the woman had asked, though she didn’t sound like she had the time or patience for small talk.

Nesta, on impulse, had said, “I’m looking for work.”

The woman blinked, clearly taken aback. “You want to work here?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” Her tone had been sharper than she intended, but she didn’t backtrack.

The woman had studied her for a long moment, her gaze sweeping over Nesta as if measuring her worth. Then, with a sigh that sounded like reluctant relief, she’d muttered, “Fine. You’re hired. I need the help, and you’ve got the look of someone who won’t run off after a week.”

Nesta hadn’t known whether to be flattered or insulted, but she’d nodded and accepted anyway.

Now, she found herself standing behind the counter most days, the faint hum of activity from the street filtering through the windows. It wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t a grand calling, but it was something. She sorted through piles of books, rearranged shelves, and rang up the occasional customer. The work was simple but steady, and that steadiness was a strange comfort.

The woman, Amina, didn’t ask questions. She didn’t hover or pry, which Nesta appreciated more than she could say. In return, Nesta found herself working harder than she thought she would. She’d never imagined herself in a place like this—surrounded by books, of all things—but the quiet was nice. It gave her something to focus on, something to do with her hands and her mind.

And though Nesta would never admit it, there was a certain satisfaction in it. Spite had gotten her in the door, but something else—something softer, more hesitant—was keeping her there. Amina had trusted her, even when Nesta hadn’t trusted herself, and that was a kind of kindness she hadn’t been expecting.

There was one other worker at the bookstore, a girl who looked younger than Nesta—probably in her early twenties. Her name was Elia, and she was pretty in a way that seemed effortless: soft brown curls that always framed her face perfectly, warm brown eyes that sparkled with every smile, and an energy that seemed boundless. Nesta had taken one look at her on her first day and decided she wouldn’t like her.

People who smiled that much, who carried themselves as though the world was something to embrace rather than endure, always grated on her nerves. Elia was the type of person Nesta would have avoided entirely in another life, too bright, too cheerful, too… good.

But Elia had taken a liking to her almost immediately. From the moment Nesta stepped behind the counter, Elia was there, talking.

“So, you’re the new help,” Elia had said with a teasing grin. “You don’t look like the bookish type, but hey, I’m not here to judge.”

Nesta had scowled at her, crossing her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Elia had just laughed, like Nesta’s irritation was amusing rather than intimidating. “Nothing bad! Just that you seem… sharp. You know, like you’re more likely to tell someone off than recommend a good romance novel.”

Nesta had bristled but didn’t respond. To her annoyance, Elia had stayed, leaning on the counter as though determined to peel back her layers. Over time, Nesta realized Elia wasn’t just talkative—she was genuinely kind, with a knack for finding the good in everyone.

“Want to grab lunch?” Elia would ask during their shifts, despite Nesta’s clipped responses.

“Need help with that stack?” she’d offer, even when Nesta was clearly managing fine on her own.

Elia didn’t seem deterred by Nesta’s cold demeanor. If anything, her persistence only grew, like she’d decided befriending Nesta was some kind of challenge. And though Nesta wouldn’t admit it, there was something disarming about the girl’s sunny attitude.

Elia was always smiling, always humming under her breath as she shelved books or rang up customers. She seemed to carry a little light with her wherever she went, and though it was irritating at first, Nesta couldn’t help but notice how it made the small bookstore feel a little less suffocating.

Sometimes, Nesta would catch herself watching Elia out of the corner of her eye, marveling at how someone could be so unguarded, so at ease in the world. It was baffling. And though she hated to admit it, maybe even a little enviable.

Despite Nesta’s sharp tone and pointed glares, Elia hadn’t been scared away. If anything, the girl’s persistence seemed to double with every cold response Nesta gave. For a while, Nesta thought she’d crack under the weight of Elia’s relentless cheerfulness, but the girl never wavered, always meeting Nesta’s barbs with that same easy smile.

So, begrudgingly, Nesta had decided to let her in—not fully, but enough to stop snapping at her during their shifts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, not really. It just… happened.

It started small: lunch on their breaks. Elia would nudge Nesta toward the staff room with a playful, “Come on, you have to eat,” and despite herself, Nesta would follow. At first, they ate in near silence, with Elia doing most of the talking as Nesta focused on her food. But slowly, the silences became less frequent, filled instead with quiet conversation about books they liked, customers they couldn’t stand, or the day-to-day monotony of work.

Then came the book recommendations.

“You should read this one,” Elia had said one afternoon, sliding a worn copy of The Secret Garden across the counter.

Nesta had raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need a children’s book.”

“It’s more than that,” Elia insisted. “Trust me, you’ll like it. It’s about finding beauty in the unexpected. You’re into that sort of thing, right?”

Nesta had scoffed but took the book home anyway. And to her surprise, she read it.

Before long, their camaraderie spilled out of the bookstore. Soon after their shifts, they were walking together through the city, stopping at cafes for coffee or tea. It wasn’t anything formal or planned—just an unspoken routine that grew between them.

“Do you ever stop smiling?” Nesta had asked one evening as they sat in a small, bustling cafe.

“Nope,” Elia had said with a grin, sipping her tea. “But I’ll tone it down if it bothers you.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes but didn’t ask her to stop.

There was something disarming about the way Elia moved through life—bright and open, like she hadn’t learned to build walls the way Nesta had. It made Nesta feel a little lighter, even if she’d never admit it. Elia had a way of drawing her out, of coaxing her into moments of warmth she didn’t think she had left.

And though it was slow, almost imperceptible, Nesta began to realize that maybe letting someone in didn’t have to be as terrible as she’d always thought.

Nesta had never thought she’d make friends again. After everything that had happened, after the pain, the isolation, the walls she’d built around herself, she’d come to believe that the people she could trust were few and far between. She had her sisters, and that was enough. Friends were something people like her didn’t need.

But, somehow, Elia had slipped past those walls she thought were impenetrable. It wasn’t something Nesta had expected to happen, nor something she had planned for. At first, it was just… convenient. Elia was there, and she didn’t give up on her, no matter how much Nesta tried to push her away. Slowly, though, the exchanges had turned into something more. Something Nesta hadn’t realized she was missing.

It was the little things—those walks through the city, the spontaneous visits to the small cafes, the gentle teasing and the quiet moments where they simply existed in each other’s company. It wasn’t like anything Nesta had had before, not the toxic friendships of her youth or the false camaraderie she’d tried to form after her fall from grace. This was different, somehow softer, without strings attached.

But Nesta had never told Elia that. She hadn’t told her how much she appreciated the quiet persistence, the way Elia had never given up on her when most people would have. She hadn’t told her that she hadn’t expected to ever feel this way again.

Instead, she kept it locked away, hidden beneath layers of her sharp tongue and her guarded exterior. Because admitting it felt too vulnerable, too real. There was always that part of her, deep down, that feared being seen. Being cared for, in a way that mattered.

So, she kept her thoughts to herself, allowing the friendship to unfold without fully acknowledging it for what it was. The idea of opening up again, of letting someone in that much, was terrifying. But she couldn’t deny that she felt something—something more than she’d felt in a long time—and that scared her too.

And yet, every time Elia smiled at her, every time she made some quiet, offhand remark, it felt… right.

Nesta worked tirelessly, every day at the bookstore, taking on extra hours, and pushing herself harder than she thought she could. It was a quiet sort of determination that took root in her, born from a mixture of pride and the need to prove to herself that she could stand on her own. She didn’t need anyone’s help—especially not Cassian’s, especially not the weight of Rhysand’s favor hanging over her head.

The debts she’d owed, both in the form of alcohol she’d binged on to numb herself and the money she’d borrowed from Rhysand to cover it, were finally paid off. She did it slowly, scraping together enough to make the first payment, then the next, until she was free of it. It felt strange to be clear of that particular burden, but there was something else weighing on her now—a freedom that came with being independent. She wasn’t sure when she’d stopped resenting that debt and started using it as fuel, but now it was gone, and she didn’t have to owe anyone anything.

And then came the apartment. The cramped, dim space that had served as her sanctuary for months, but now felt more like a prison. It had never really been home—not after everything. It had been a place to hide, a place to fall apart. So, she left. She didn’t tell her sisters, not even Feyre. She knew they would worry, maybe try to convince her to stay close, try to check in on her, to keep an eye on her. And Cassian? Well, she certainly didn’t want him knocking on her door again, with that knowing look in his eyes, and that infuriating tone as he tried to “help” her, as though she couldn’t take care of herself. She didn’t want to deal with it, didn’t want him barging in, assuming that he had the right to manage her life when he couldn’t even handle his own.

Instead, Nesta rented a small, private flat. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. And she was damn proud of it. No more debts hanging over her head. No more constantly worrying about when someone would come to remind her of how she’d fallen. It was a place where she could breathe, even if the air still felt a little too thin. She didn’t expect anyone to understand, and she certainly didn’t want anyone to ask questions. She had no answers for them anyway.

The move had been easy—just a few things in a small suitcase and the most essential items. The books she’d been collecting over the months, the things she’d started to care about again, they went with her. She didn’t need the reminders of her past life, the way it felt to live under the same roof as people who had never truly seen her, never truly understood her. This was her new beginning. Even if it was only small, even if it was only for her.

And she didn’t say a word to her sisters. They’d find out eventually, when she was ready to let them in again. But for now, she needed the silence, the space to keep working, to keep pushing forward without anyone interfering. Without Cassian barging in.

She wasn’t sure if she was running from them, from her past, or from the very part of herself that she wasn’t ready to face again. But that night, as she locked the door behind her for the last time, she didn’t look back.

Taryn had helped her in more ways than Nesta had initially expected, though she didn’t admit it to herself at the time. When she’d found a new apartment, it had been bare, just like the one she’d left behind. The walls were empty, the floors felt too large and too cold, and there was only a mattress in the middle of the room—a grim reminder of how little she had. She hadn’t even realized how much it bothered her until Taryn casually suggested one evening that it was time to buy furniture.

“I’m coming with you,” Taryn had said. “No more living like you’re in a damn hotel.”

At first, Nesta had balked at the idea. She didn’t need help, she could manage it herself. She had no interest in filling the space with things she didn’t need. But Taryn had been persistent. Eventually, Nesta had given in. And, oddly enough, it hadn’t been as awful as she expected.

The two of them had ventured into the city one afternoon, and as they browsed through small furniture shops, Taryn had somehow made the experience feel lighter. She made the process bearable, even as Nesta couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable in the bustling stores. Her head kept spinning with all the choices, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this would really make her feel better or just create another false sense of comfort.

When they reached the second-hand shop, Taryn had spotted a small couch and immediately suggested it. “It’s perfect for you. Cozy and practical, just like you need,” she had said, grinning. But Nesta had hesitated, unsure if this was really what she wanted.

It had been Elia, of all people, who came to the rescue. Taryn admitted, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that her own apartment was sparse, that she didn’t know much about decorating, and that she needed help picking things out for Nesta. Elia, who always had a bright and energetic way of looking at things, had volunteered immediately. The two of them had met up at the store, and Elia had taken the reins without hesitation.

To Nesta’s surprise, Elia had a keen eye for interior design. She picked out colors that suited the space, offered suggestions for arranging the furniture, and even found a few small decorations that added life to the room. It was strange—she had never expected Elia to be the one to turn this mundane task into something almost enjoyable. The way Elia had seamlessly fit into the process, giving advice and showing her how to make the place her own, made the experience feel less foreign, less like a duty, and more like something that could actually be done.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Nesta had allowed herself to truly feel at ease. There was no judgment in the air. The stress that had lingered in the back of her mind started to melt away, replaced by something unexpected—gratitude, maybe even comfort. Taryn’s presence had always been a quiet support, and Elia’s unexpected skill at decorating had helped guide them both in a way that Nesta could appreciate. It had been a reminder that not everything needed to feel like a battle.

By the end of the day, Nesta had a couch, a small dining table, a few chairs, and a rug to soften the floor. The space didn’t feel so hollow anymore. It didn’t feel like she was just passing through; it felt like hers. It felt like something she had created.

Later, after they’d loaded everything into her apartment, Taryn had sat on the couch with her, and Elia had been the one to break the silence, offering an unexpected compliment.

“You’re really good at making a space feel like a home, Nesta,” Elia had said.

For a moment, Nesta had felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through her. She hadn’t been sure if she was capable of that, if she even deserved to make a home for herself. But in that moment, she allowed herself to believe it.

It had felt strange to open up, to offer even a small part of herself. Nesta had spent so long guarding her secrets, holding everything inside, never giving anything away. She had been terrified that if she shared too much, she would be exposed, vulnerable, and it would only lead to more rejection, more pain.

But there, sitting on her new couch with Taryn and Elia, something shifted. It wasn’t the same as it had been with her family—there was no pressure, no expectation. They weren’t looking at her like she was a broken thing that needed fixing, and they weren’t judging her for the things she couldn’t control. Taryn, always quiet and steady, had never pushed, and Elia had simply been there, warm and understanding, in her own way.

It had started with something small, something easy—a fragment of her past, a single memory she had buried deep inside. She had told them about the Cauldron, how it had changed her, how it had made her into something else, something that didn’t fit in anywhere. About being made Fae, about the pain it had caused her, and how it had left her with scars that no one could see.

She had even told them about the bathtubs, something that had never quite felt right after the change. She had tried to avoid it, to force herself, but the discomfort still lingered, a constant reminder of what she’d lost.

It had been a small piece of herself, just a fragment of her past, but it had felt different when she said it aloud. There was no judgment in Taryn’s eyes, no disbelief in Elia’s. For the first time in a long time, she hadn’t felt like the world was collapsing around her, like she was carrying a burden that no one else could understand.

It had been strange, letting them in, but somewhere in the pit of her stomach, Nesta had realized that maybe, just maybe, this was what it felt like to have friends. To feel seen without being judged. To share something of herself without the fear of it being used against her.

And as she sat there, letting the words settle between them, she knew she had given them something important. A piece of her that she had never shared with anyone else. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Taryn had been the one to bring it up, a quiet suggestion one evening after they had finished dinner together. “I know someone who could help,” she had said, a flicker of hesitation in her voice. “He does this kind of work. A friend of mine. It might be easier than you think.”

Nesta had hesitated, as always. The idea of someone else seeing her, seeing the scars she carried from the Cauldron, felt wrong. She had lived with the discomfort for so long, had forced herself to manage, to adapt. But Taryn’s persistence had eventually worn her down, and after a few more gentle nudges, Nesta had agreed—though reluctantly.

The next day, they met with Taryn’s friend, a man who was quiet and kind. There was no judgment in his gaze, no probing questions. He didn’t need an explanation. That was the most important thing. He simply saw her as a person, someone who needed help, and that was all. No further inquiries, no unwelcome sympathy.

Instead of a bathtub, he had suggested a shower. Something simpler, more manageable for Nesta, something that wouldn’t bring the same sense of unease that had haunted her. The space was clean, comfortable, and the man had worked quickly, efficiently.

When the work was done, Taryn’s friend hadn’t asked for anything extravagant. Instead, he gave her a discount, offering it with such casual kindness that Nesta found herself slightly taken aback. It wasn’t something she was used to. People usually wanted something in return, whether it was money or gratitude, but he had simply nodded and said, “It’s no trouble. You’re welcome.”

It had been an easy thing, a small task that turned out to be a surprisingly freeing experience. But more than that, it had reminded Nesta of how, sometimes, help could come in the most unexpected ways. And for the first time in a long time, she realized she hadn’t had to prove anything to anyone. There were no expectations, no ulterior motives—just simple kindness. It had felt… normal.

Nesta had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, a routine that felt surprisingly stable considering everything that had come before. She and Taryn still frequented the tavern, a place that now held a different kind of warmth for her. The music was still beautiful, the sounds of the violins and voices weaving through the air like threads of a tapestry. And the atmosphere no longer made her feel on edge. It was a place where she could exist without expectations, without judgment.

She had limited herself to a drink or two, something she didn’t do out of obligation, but because she could. It was a subtle form of control that felt empowering, even if it was something small. She had learned to be cautious with alcohol, with herself, and the way it had once loosened her inhibitions now served as a reminder of how far she’d come. No more drinking until she couldn’t remember the night, no more finding herself in the arms of someone she didn’t know, someone who never saw her.

She had stopped going home with strangers, the kind of action that had once felt like a way to fill the emptiness, to drown out the voices in her head. It was a choice she had made, a silent vow to herself. She wasn’t ready to touch anyone, to allow herself to be vulnerable with anyone in that way. Not after everything that had happened. Not after the years of conditioning herself to think that her worth was tied to the touch of others.

She didn’t know when or if she’d be ready to open up like that again, or even if she wanted to. Her mind was still a maze, full of questions she didn’t have answers to. What did she want? Was it men? Women? Both? Her attraction to Taryn, the gentle way the other woman’s presence calmed her, made her feel seen without having to explain herself, left Nesta feeling confused. She had never allowed herself to think about this before. It was as if she’d been too busy surviving, too focused on just getting by.

One night, as they sat side by side at their usual corner in the tavern, Nesta had turned to Taryn, the question bubbling up before she could stop it. “Is it possible?” she asked quietly, unsure whether she even wanted the answer.

Taryn had looked at her for a long moment, her gaze steady and understanding. There was no hesitation in her reply. “Yes,” she said simply. “It’s possible to want both. Or neither. Or anything in between. It’s your choice, Nesta. And it’s okay not to have it all figured out.”

Taryn’s words had settled deep inside her, not offering clarity, but permission. Permission to explore, to ask questions, to take her time. There was no rush. No need for certainty. Taryn had never pushed her to define herself or to make sense of feelings that felt out of place. She had simply allowed Nesta to exist, to sit in her own confusion, and that was the most freeing thing Nesta had ever experienced.

So, she kept going to the tavern, kept listening to the music, kept letting herself feel the warmth of Taryn’s quiet understanding. For the first time in a long time, Nesta wasn’t in a rush. She didn’t need to have everything figured out right now. She could be confused, she could be uncertain, and that was enough. She had the space to figure it out on her own time.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Nesta began to feel… regular. Not extraordinary, not broken, but just ordinary. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one she didn’t quite know how to define, but it was there, creeping into her life in little ways. She was becoming a regular at a small coffee shop that sat on the corner of a quiet street. The kind of place with mismatched chairs and the comforting smell of roasted beans hanging in the air.

The owner, a woman named Mira, had quickly learned her name and her order. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a plain black coffee with a dash of cinnamon, but there was something so grounding in the routine. Every time Nesta walked in, Mira would smile, nod in acknowledgment, and immediately start preparing her drink without asking. It was simple, but it felt like belonging in the best way.

At first, Nesta had been hesitant, unsure of how she would be received, how she could possibly fit into a place like this. But over time, the warmth of the coffee shop, the quiet hum of the barista working in the background, and the lack of expectations had drawn her in. It wasn’t a bustling place like the tavern; it was quieter, calmer, a space that allowed her to just be, without feeling scrutinized.

Elia had been the one to push her, inviting Nesta along for lunch one afternoon and introducing her to some of her own friends. At first, Nesta had felt like an outsider, like she was intruding on a scene that didn’t belong to her. But her fears were quickly washed away by the gentle humor and kindness of Elia’s friends. They were welcoming in the way that felt natural, not forced, and that made all the difference.

It hadn’t been a sudden shift, but over time, she had found herself becoming a part of something that wasn’t broken or tainted. She could walk into the coffee shop now without the usual knot of anxiety in her stomach, and the faces that greeted her were ones she recognized. People who knew her by name, who asked about her day with genuine curiosity. It was simple, but it was everything.

She didn’t feel like Nesta Archeron, the broken sister or the haunted soul, here. She was just Nesta—someone who liked coffee, someone who sometimes talked with Elia about books, who sometimes just sat in silence, sipping her drink and watching the world go by. And for the first time, she didn’t feel the need to be anything more.

Her life was slowly becoming a mosaic of small, quiet moments. There was no grand change, no sudden burst of revelation. It was just… regular. And that, Nesta realized, was what she had needed all along.

As the months passed, a quiet shift began to take place inside of Nesta. She had spent so much of her life locked away in confusion, shame, and fear, unable to understand or accept herself fully. But now, there was a budding clarity that came with time and reflection, a soft assurance that crept into her bones. She had begun to realize, with no small amount of surprise, that she wasn’t simply attracted to one or the other. She was attracted to both—men and women. And for the first time, she allowed herself to sit with that truth.

It hadn’t been easy. There were moments when the weight of it felt too heavy, moments when she questioned everything she had known about herself. Her upbringing, her family, the way she had been taught to see the world—they had all wrapped her in an armor of expectations and judgment. Even now, when she thought about the whispers of her past, the lessons she had been taught about what was right and what was wrong, there was still a flicker of shame that tried to settle in her chest.

But it was different now. The shame was quieter, less able to consume her. She didn’t want to hide it, not anymore. She knew she shouldn’t feel ashamed, and yet, in the stillness of her apartment or when she was alone with her thoughts, it would sometimes creep in. Still, the fear that once held her captive was gone. She was no longer afraid of what she was discovering about herself, of the people she might be drawn to or the complexities of her desires.

In fact, there was a certain peace in embracing this part of herself. It wasn’t a choice, but a realization—a recognition of something that had always been there, quietly waiting for her to acknowledge it. She had spent so many years afraid to explore this side of herself, to even consider that she might be different from what she had once imagined. But now, she was beginning to understand that there was no right or wrong, no singular path she was supposed to follow.

She had met people along the way who didn’t bat an eye at her evolving self, people like Elia who never questioned or judged, who simply accepted. Taryn, too, had shown her a kind of unspoken understanding, never pushing her to be something she wasn’t, but always offering her space to explore. It was in those moments, in the warmth of these new relationships, that Nesta found the courage to let herself be. She didn’t have to choose between one or the other. She could simply be who she was, without explanation.

Though she still struggled with the remnants of societal expectations and the weight of her past, the fear of what might happen, of how she might be viewed, was slowly becoming irrelevant. For the first time in a long time, Nesta realized that she didn’t need to hide, to force herself into any box. She could like who she liked. She could be attracted to men and women, and that was okay.

It wasn’t perfect, not yet. There were days when the shadows of old thoughts threatened to take over, moments when her mind was clouded with doubt. But they didn’t have the power they once did. Slowly, with each passing day, she was allowing herself the freedom to be who she truly was, and it felt like an immense weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She wasn’t afraid of it anymore.

It had been a quiet evening, the soft hum of music filling the air as Nesta sat beside Taryn at the tavern. The lively crowd around them, swaying and laughing, seemed distant as the familiar melody reached her ears. It was one of those songs that had an almost tangible pull, and Nesta felt herself swaying to the rhythm of it, her feet tapping gently beneath the table.

Taryn sat beside her, a little too still, her gaze lost in the distant flickering of candlelight. Nesta studied her for a moment, her heart beating just a bit faster than usual. The feeling was there again—the same flutter she’d felt when she’d first met her, the same uncertainty and desire tangled together.

The music wove through the space, thick and sweet, like it had a life of its own. Something inside Nesta stirred—a desire to step into it, to take a risk she’d never allowed herself before.

Before she could second-guess herself, the words were already tumbling out, surprising her just as much as they might surprise Taryn.

“Will you dance with me?”

Taryn turned to her, blinking as if she hadn’t quite processed the request. Her eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise, the corner of her lips curling up just slightly, like she couldn’t quite decide if she was being teased or if Nesta was serious. The tension between them seemed to shift, a brief moment of hesitation hanging in the air.

“You… want to dance?” Taryn asked, her voice laced with a touch of amusement.

Nesta nodded, her expression determined, though her stomach churned with a mixture of excitement and nerves. She didn’t know why she’d asked. Maybe it was the music, or the way the night felt alive with possibility. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid to act on something that felt right in the moment.

Taryn’s surprise softened into something else—a curiosity, maybe a hint of something more. After a brief pause, she stood, holding out a hand to Nesta. “Well, then,” she said, her tone light. “I suppose I can’t say no.”

Nesta’s heart raced in her chest as she stood up, her breath catching in her throat. The tavern had fallen into a low hum as she and Taryn moved toward the floor, the crowd parting for them like a tide around rocks. The music, that ever-present rhythm, wrapped around them, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

When they were finally standing together, close enough that Nesta could feel the warmth of Taryn’s presence, she felt a surge of self-consciousness, her hands unsure of where to rest.

Taryn, though, seemed unbothered, her hand finding Nesta’s, guiding her gently into the flow of the dance. The movement was fluid, effortless, the music a gentle current that pulled them along. They moved together in a way that felt natural, like two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. For once, Nesta didn’t feel out of sync, didn’t feel as though her steps were forced or awkward.

It was… comfortable. And for the first time in so long, she allowed herself to simply enjoy it.

The world around them became a blur—there was no judgment, no past, no expectations. Just the steady rhythm of their feet on the floor, the soft whisper of Taryn’s breath in time with the music. Taryn’s touch, her hand holding Nesta’s firmly, seemed to steady something within her, like she wasn’t just moving through the motions, but actually present, in this moment, in this dance.

The world outside might have continued to turn, but in this little corner of the tavern, Nesta had found something—someone—that made her feel like she wasn’t alone in the storm of it all.

And when the song ended, neither of them moved right away, the connection between them still lingering, the silence comfortable rather than awkward. It was a quiet understanding between them, something Nesta had never expected, but was grateful for nonetheless.

Taryn’s smile was gentle, a hint of warmth in it, and Nesta couldn’t help but return it. She didn’t need to say anything. The dance had spoken for her, more than words ever could.

Tag list: @litnerdwrites

[trashcanteatime]

Extra curious about this one and wanting to record some thoughts since I may experience some of this one day.

I am out and open to my higher management. My store manager knows, my city and district managers know. And I may be moving to a different district a few months after transitioning. By this logic, I will be receiving a lower wage in my current district, but once I move after changing my name, markers, all that stuff will I perhaps receive higher wages due to being perceived as masculine in a very masculine industry? To not completely doxx myself I'll just say I work in building materials and do some of the creative work involved when I can.

But I would like to note down some extra thoughts about that bit specifically. At the moment, I would say that at first glance I look like a butch lesbian. Which is intentional. I try to visually code myself as being a masc queer, and if the first instinct of a cishet client is to clock me as butch and leave it at that, it's cool. Some guys have the energy of "oh? You like women too? Women are great!" which is generally amusing. And there are those that clock me as queer and/or female and treat me worse. Not allowed to help with their materials questions, they ask one of my cis male coworkers, then come crawling back when they need a design question answered or the coworker cannot answer the question. (Which is a lot of the time.) There are also those that seem offended by my queerness, and while I haven't received threats to my face for a while, my coworkers have removed clients from my presence because of what they said behind my back.

But things are changing. I'm on T. I have my top surgery consultation set up. I will be working on legal markers during the downtime for surgery. The current goal is to move me to a different facility upon my return to work with my masculine name, markers, chest, facial hair, everything. Will the first bit of "privilege" I actually will get to experience be a client asking me a question, believing my answer, and not fact checking with a cis male coworker? Will I automatically have more respect by being male in a misogynistic industry that is changing all too slowly? Or not? Because no matter what I'm gonna get clocked as being some flavor of queer? For the most part, I actually enjoy my industry and work. I really do. This is merely a journal entry of thoughts and feelings and concerns for the future brought up by the idea that as a t-guy the wage gap that shouldn't exist in the first place may close for me. I guess we'll see.

So I've seen "trans men and mascs get paid more and find it easier to get hired and that's a level of privilege" go around recently. Which I've been reading into and trying to find sources for, because it's something I could imagine is true but also I don't like just believing things that people state online without backing it up.

The main source I've seen for that argument cited the United States Transgender Survey 2015. But I also found an article titled "The labour market outcomes of transgender individuals" by Matthew Shannon ( found on sciencedirect ) that cited the same study and argued that trans groups assigned female at birth had significantally lower incomes in general. It also had some nuance; trans men who transition younger tend to have higher incomes than those who transition later in life, whereas trans women who transition younger have worse incomes compared to their older peers.

I'll be honest, I don't feel individually qualified to judge whether Shannon's paper is making good points and interpreting the data well. But I'd love to see other people's opinions on it, if you or your followers have any.

i would say it's situational

if the trans man passes well enough and/or is not out to their coworkers, their employer may choose to give them higher wages because they are being seen as a man. that's not the trans man's fault by any means. they did not transition specifically to get higher pay. they're not in control of what the employer pays them- the employer quite literally sets the pay rate. if they choose to pay more because they're a man, it's on the employer

however, there are so many trans men who can't or don't pass, never get their names or gender markers changed, or are never viewed as men in their workplaces and treated like women, thus, having worse wages, hours, privileges, positions and so on. generally speaking, a trans man isn't very likely to benefit from this at all. i never did because of my deadname and gender marker. i always got the same pay as my female co workers.

if anyone else would like to comment, feel free. it sounds like there's some nuance being left out, but that could just be me

[utilitycaster]

I wasn’t around the fandom back in C2, but I know some people didn’t like that the Nein kind of ignored the war and didn’t follow that thread Matt laid out. Was this a widespread enough critique of the campaign to where it would possibly be influencing the players to follow Matt’s premise and threads more here, despite playing ill suited characters? Not looking for this as justification for this campaign's problems, to be clear, just kind of reaching for an explanation for the timidity here. I feel like I’m watching players be too polite to say "actually, we just really don't care if the gods are here or not" but not wanting to harsh Matt's story concept.

Hi anon,

This is a good question, and I think the answer is ultimately "I don't know", but I do want to take you through my thought process which I hope is helpful. The short answer is, however, that while this is interesting to speculate on (this is a good post doing so) I don't ultimately need to know. External factors can influence a work, clearly, but I think that needs to be taken on a case-by-case basis and in this case, an explanation for the timidity doesn't really address that I don't care for it.

Firstly: I think the fandom's influence on player choices is probably overstated. I think that fan influence was something of a concern in Campaign 1, when the fandom was much smaller, the cast was much more hands-on, and, for example, for a lot of the earlier episodes the chat was literally on the YouTube videos so if they went to rewatch their own work they'd see that. Matt used to drop into the Reddit. People who were fans in 2015 and early 2016 would email or DM cast or crew and get direct messages. That's really no longer the case, and hasn't been for a very long time.

I can't speak to the fandom at large's feelings on the war plot in Campaign 2 while it was actually airing. I have seen it brought up a lot by Campaign 2 detractors after the fact, but I don't do Reddit or Twitter and during Campaign 2 I didn't really go into the main tag much until fairly late. Personally, I feel a lot of people lean on the "they didn't follow the war plot" only because Matt revealed in the wrap-up that he had something planned for the Augen Trust, but there was absolutely no way for the cast to know it. Additionally, I think my feeling about this is "their avoidance was a very clear decision that was true to their characters." When the party first leaves Zadash, it is specifically because they are low-level and explicitly want to get out of town before the war leads to heightened security. Nott is at the time a goblin and not treated as a citizen of the Empire. Molly, Yasha, Fjord, and Jester aren't imperial citizens either. Beau hates authority, and Caleb has extremely good reasons (having just seen Trent) to get as far away from anything relating to the Empire's government. After their mission to Shady Creek run, they are grieving and decide to go someplace where a few of them feel at home, and also pursue the note from Avantika they found. They avoid the war because it makes perfect sense for that group of characters to do; and then they eventually go to Xhorhas and see the war from the other perspective! They don't even avoid it; they just engage in a way that is very different from how Matt originally envisioned, and is, again, very true to their characters (Nott wanting to save Yeza; Caleb wanting to avoid imprisonment and being willing to hand over the beacon to do so). The Mighty Nein very much followed available plot hooks at every turn; they might have been different plot hooks than some people wanted, but they were very much making choices based on who they were as characters at each juncture.

I also think that the characters leaning into "we don't really care" early on would have actually been a great move and one Matt could adapt to. I think that might have actually led to him trying to, for example, encourage a focus on either "Predathos is an existential threat that is leading Ludinus to commit multiple atrocities, and killing him will still leave the temptation intact for another Ludinus to arise"; or "well, how about we give you time to explore your own pasts and your own homes and get perspectives from the common people of Exandria and then decide from a humanist perspective". The problem isn't that they may or may not release Predathos or may or may not destroy the gods; it's that their motivations are at best either solipsistic or barely existent and so it's hard to care about anything because the party feels dragged along by a plot they don't care about. They're not even choosing the plot actively; they're just sort of shuffling slowly forward through it.

Now, here's my opinion: I think that even if the fandom were critical of Campaign 2 (and while some people are, it is openly and widely beloved, and I think the cast are familiar with the idea that you cannot make everyone happy), I don't think listening to the fandom is necessarily correct. I think that, in fact, listening too much to the fandom and trying to please whoever is loudest or most unpleasant or threatening or flattering or worse still, multiple of these groups, will nearly always make your art weak.

There's choices where I think the context of said choice is important: I'm a little softer now on the party not having time to mourn FCG in-game than I was at the time because I can understand feeling really bad about and uncomfortable with, essentially, holding a memorial for a character played by your friend currently in cancer treatment. I understand why it happened. I do not blame the cast for making that choice. I do think, however, it does make a weaker story. I would not walk up to Matt Mercer and say "this sucked and you shouldn't have done this" but just because there's a good external reason doesn't mean it was necessarily executed well in game. This may sound cold to some. I don't particularly care; I'm writing this about how criticism from random strangers means very little to me.

I feel very strongly that you should not play to your haters. This comes up a lot when we talk about the misogynistic death threats that Marisha received, and for what it's worth I think Marisha has at all times handled this well and any criticism I have of her characters isn't related to her being overly timid. I really do, as a woman myself, understand that one's safety is paramount, and I would never demand an artist put themselves at risk (though many choose to, and often that work is excellent). But *Dessa Fire Drills voice* that's not, in my opinion, a way to live. It's a delicate and exhausting balance but avoiding making bold moves because the worst fucking guy on the internet will call you a slur is letting him win and he'll call you the slur anyway.

Maybe this isn't a great way to be, and I was not born this way so much as found it through some rough experiences when I was younger, but if someone's never going to be happy with you, or even if their idea of what is acceptable is so vanishingly narrow that you will have to fold yourself up to fit into it, don't you want to 1. focus then on making yourself happy and 2. not worry about pissing them off and indeed maybe even court it a little so long as it doesn't conflict with what you would want if they were out of the picture?

So I don't want to say there's no explanation ever that will make me feel a little more understanding; but "this work isn't great because of external factors beyond the creators' control" doesn't fix the fact that the work isn't great. It's not their fault in that case! But like...you know the college myth of "if your roommate dies you get straight As for the semester"? It's untrue there and it's untrue here. I will be more sympathetic to the artist; but the art still isn't good and I'm not going to pretend like it is.

[lifeseries-ttrpg]

24h into the interest check!

Heya guys! Admin Excel here. I've been closely watching every single interest check response what came in the past day and I wanted to thank you all for providing us with such valuable information! I decided to make this little post as a quick overview of that we learned from you so far.

If you haven't filled in the interest check, feel free to do so now! It'll help us tremendously with the creation of this project!

Link to the interest check

In the past 24h or so, we've received almost 60 responses from all of you - which is honestly a number far beyond our expectations for such a fresh project. Here are some things we've learned to far:

Almost 70% of the interested people have a prior TTRPG experience. This shouldn't be surprising, in all honesty - fans of such a roleplay heavy series will of course enjoy some roleplaying themselves.

Well over 90% of the interested people actually want to contribute to the project, or at least is thinking about it.

There is about an equal number of people who want to contribute to the project as artists and as writers. There is a slightly bigger number of potential artists than writers, but that was expected.

Among people who wanna join as artist, character artist is clearly the most popular role.

Among people who want to join as writers, the most want to be character writers. An even larger group wants to be lore writers, but that group will most likely not be a separate group - more so an add-on to other roles (we will expand on that in the future).

Half of the interested people want to serve as beta players for the game! The beta players will most likely have a separate application process, outside of the contributor one - and later down the manual's creation process. You will be able to be both a contributor and a beta player, but you can also be a beta player without being a contributor - all you'll have to do is organize a session within a given time limit and later fill out a feedback form.

Most people will be able to start working on the project from March! Depending on the mods' schedules, that means the contributor applications will most likely open as scheduled, mid-late February - with the actual work starting early-mid March.

A vast majority of you is interested in seeing lore elements in the story! I think this point also needs a clarification - the included lore will not be based purely on Martyn's Eyes and Ears AU, nor any specific existing interpretation. It will most likely include bits of popular headcanons and AUs, together with any ideas that out lore writers come up with. It will also most likely be inobtrusive, to the point where the campaign will not have to focus on them too heavily.

Almost 75% of the interested people actually see themselves playing this campaign with their friends or family! It's great to see we'll have a target audience and this project will not be created just for the sake of creation.

We will focus on open ended questions in future posts, where we answer some questions, suggestions and doubts. All I'm gonna say is that after looking though the favorite alliance question... You guys really like Dogwarts xd

And that's it for now! Follow this page for future updates and dm us if you have any questions about the project!

[a-literate-chicken]

Hey! I just turned 18, and I still live with my parents, but when I move out I would like to have a chicken; I love biology, but I only research it as a hobby, so could you give me some tips on how to take care of a chicken or information about them? That would help me a lot! And is it possible to take care of a chicken in an apartment, or do they need a yard? I love chickens, and would really like to take care of one;

Happy (late) birthday my fellow biologist and chicken lover! I personally haven’t had any indoor pet chickens nor am I friends with anybody who has, so take all of the following advice with a grain of salt. I grew up in an agricultural area where any animals that were brought into the house were sick or needed around the clock supervision (except for the time I hatched and raised chicks in my bedroom for a month but that’s another story).

I think it’s definitely possible to have a pet chicken that lives inside without access to a yard, but it is going to be a lot of work and I’m hesitant to support it. I’m going to be rather blunt here but my first concern is that birds poop frequently. With birds like parakeets or other small species, the quantity is small. With a chicken it will be much more, but, I have heard of people using chicken diapers. I also think with some research into husbandry, it won’t be that hard to find a proper diet or supplies for housing needs. Chickens aren’t like other birds in that they don’t chew on stuff and they can’t fly very well. They are still birds though, and are very social and curious and will need a lot of enrichment and social interaction. They aren’t domesticated like cats or dogs, and will do better outside with access to other chickens and things that encourage natural behaviors like dirt to roll around in.

My other concern (this is me speaking from a veterinary perspective) is that poultry carry diseases and I would be hesitant to encourage keeping birds in the house just for the heck of it.

All in all, I don’t recommend a house chicken, esp as a first time pet. Most stories you see about people having pet chickens is that they end up either one that is disabled or requires special care so they bring it inside in order to better take care of it. This is probably not the answer you wanted to hear and I’m sorry that I don’t have better news.

However, if you can find a place where you can have chickens in a yard, I absolutely recommend it! They are independent and hardy and won’t need a ton of supervision if you end up with a job that doesn’t allow you to spend much time with them. I suggest getting a few as they will do way better with friends. I can think of a couple of breeds off the top of my head that are more outgoing and have a better chance of bonding with you as their human, or if you want egg layers I can recommend breeds for that as well. Again, there is a lot of information online on chicken husbandry so it won’t be hard to find if you have questions about how much space they need or what to feed them. I also recommend choosing breeds and flock size based off whatever area you live in (small breeds if you are concerned about space or hardier breeds if you have harsh weather, if you live a city you may not be allowed to have roosters, stuff like that). If you have other specific questions or want to know more about how to get started, feel free to ask here anytime! Chicken questions and/or biology questions are always welcome ❤️

[karanseraph]

Good questions, some of which I ask myself.

I think, one thing to consider when even attempting to answer for ourselves is that even though in US politics right now there's a lot of talk about division (and there is division) that sometimes some people, even me at times, forget that it's not AS BINARY as we're being told.

I mean that I do hear people say thing like "in the past, even within each party there were more extreme and moderate people but now everything is so extreme..." And they're not like 100% wrong that there's less of some positions or that they are less visible.

But, that said, we're maybe forgetting that these "sides" in the divide are more like coalitions.

And this is noticable if one goes and watches some Regan Ruined Everything video, right? There will be a part about how religious conservatives and fiscal conservatives teamed up in new ways.

So, when we're asking ourselves "But what do they actually think is happening?" or "But how do they answer for this observed fact?" I think we all need to remember that we're not talking about one monolithic group. It's to their advantage to appear that way to everyone else. But it's a coalition that hypothetically could be divided on issues.

Like, say there's hypothetical white supremacist. His main issues are racial, but he might be along for the ride on some position on taxes or controlling women's bodies.

Similarly, if there's the Christian Nationalist, he may or may not have the specific interpretation of The Bible that is "slavery is OK, sometimes, actually" or "Homosexuality is a big sin and no one should do it or your whole nation will be wiped out by an act of God". but even if he has those takes, he may not necessarily be into the financial issues of the party but more along for the ride on regulation and taxes.

And so on.

There's no one thing "they" believe.

So, there's maybe not one way to try to understand how they rationalize their actions.

They don't all agree.

Certainly there are those who want to keep that coalition together, especially at voting time. But they aren't all the same as we think.

Like, the issue of the visas, right? Some are just against all immigrants/immigration and some are like, "but we can let the rich ones in" and some are like "but we can let the person who's going to work in my house in."

It's frustrating how certain media does try to get them all working together against "The Left" though. A lot of what they complain about on that certain news channel isn't even real left, it's pretty mainstream views they disagree with (and intentionally explain poorly).

I have been trying to figure out FOR YEARS why my own father watches that certain channel and why he will seemingly believe what they say over what I say. Like, he really has gaslit me and treated me like some kinda person with no critical thinking, while also complaining that I question everything.

So, I'm guessing there's a BIG dose of cognitive dissonance involved in trying to rationalize some political takes as not overtly unjust and oppressive.

And then I guess a lot of it is those who had extra privilege for a time perceiving their reduction of privileges over others as oppression. When, it's more like reduced oppression for everyone else.

What do conservatives actually think "woke" means?

Like, the only time I've ever heard anyone use it correctly was an anti-Trump rally prior to 2020, where Maxine Waters ended a speech with "And to all my millenials: Stay woke!"

Every other use I can remember has either been conservatives panicking about brainwashing or leftists cracking wise because we're not brainwashed.

(I know and many of us know that it was a political term from black activism, but I doubt the conservatives who fear it do.)

[verved]

where can one learn about your OCs? 👀

*vibrates at light speed*

You can find info on my ocs on my toyhouse!

Verve and Xenaut are the two that are most developed, but even their bios are are missing a lot of information, so if you have specific questions feel free to ask! My other ocs are a lot less developed but I'll get around to them eventually.

I also have answered pretty much all the questions on this list for Verve, Xenaut, and both of their Shattered Glass counterparts, so if any of those questions are interesting I have answers ready!

[quibbs126]

So like, how does one draw TFA Sentinel’s chin if they’re trying to make him in human form? Because you know, he’s got that giant chin

And I don’t mean like in a super stylized cartoony way like the Fairly Odd Parents or anything. I want to say in a more realistic style? That’s not what I would draw, but honestly no I am curious how you draw him in a more realistic style actually, because he’s supposed to have that comically large chin

[sydmarch]

it was so stupidly difficult to find any nutritionist who has experience with arfid & takes insurance so after having to go through all these referrals my therapist sent me & jumping through hoops I lowkey hate the lady lmao feels like such a waste of time & energy

[i-havenothingelsetopost]

genuine question, do you like maths?? i have a vague feeling i saw your post of tags or something that said something about it but i cannot figure out if it was in fact you or if it was even positive ahahah

Yeah that was me! I don't go looking for math problems, but when I happen to do them, I tend to enjoy it. Wasn't always this way — elementary school math was about speed and memorization and I hated that — but I had a really good teacher in upper secondary school, and it became about creative problem solving. It feels the same as writing a poem in meter or managing to untangle a really bad knot in a ball of yarn.

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[orcelito]

I do find it so funny that I will graduate college days away from my birthday. Like my birthday is literally in between the end of the semester ("graduation") and commencement

It really will be like a joint graduation & birthday party for me lmao