#this might not be anything but it is TO ME and that's all i'm here for

[boomstab-papa]

Oh absolutely, giving misogynists captive girlfriends/wives isn't going to fix anything. Being a little more misogynist to try to appease misogynists won't work.

But "giving any credence" is such an interesting phrase to use here, because it's so ambiguous and also accusatory. What does "giving credence" mean? Who has been doing it? What have they been advocating for? Who, for example, has been saying leftists should be more misogynist, and how?

I'm not alone in this confusion, either, there are several comments on the tweet who are equally perplexed.

The fact is that the left DOES NEED a better approach to people who are feeling lost, angry, and scared.

Alt-right "self-help" authors and programs are hugely popular. These predators target lost, scared, and angry people. They're cults, really. And no matter how much the left discusses things like "can we stop parroting bioessentialist bullshit because hey, men aren't destined to be misogynistic assholes"... these alt-right cultists don't ever even have to TALK TO a leftist to repeatedly hear "leftists hate you for being born white/male/rich/etc". I really can't get over how Rush Limbaugh popularized the term "feminiazi" and told an entire generation that feminists were angry man-haters when they literally are not. But that's exactly how the grift works!! I should know, I grew up in exactly this Rush Limbaugh kind of house!!

"Don't blame the hyper-wealthy for ruining the economy, blame women and foreigners for taking all the jobs! Don't blame the ruined economy when nobody wants to have kids anymore, blame the women! Don't blame patriarchy and all the misogyny it taught you when women avoid your misogynist ass, blame the women! Remember, the feminazis hate you!!"

So what to do?

On an interpersonal level, sometimes it can be really easy. This is a comment made to Innuendo Studios's video "How to Radicalize A Normie" on this exact topic (which I highly recommend watching).

"Hey, ex-alt-right member here. First, really like this series. I feel like you’re validating the radicalization that me and my male friends experienced. Putting it into words and showing us how we got tricked, exposing the magician and their tricks. Second, I vot out not through argument and discussion but actually through feelings. I was very edgy and would use the n-word in jokes all the time. My male friends would not call me out on it. But a female friend of mine said it made her uncomfortable and that she didn’t appreciate these jokes when we played fortnite together. That shook me to my core as I cared for my friend and that’s how my deradicaliztion started. Just wanted to add in this personal story, keep up the great work :)"

If this is someone you know, tell them their behavior is not cool.

THIS GOES DOUBLE FOR THE MEN READING THIS. Misogynists are more likely to listen to you than they are to listen to women!! If someone is being a shithead in your vicinity, consider: are you gonna let it slide? Or are you maybe, possibly, going to be the one thing that yanks them out of a hatespiral and prompts them to re-examine their hateful worldview? Tell them "hey not cool".

This might not work the first time. This might not work at all for some people. But if the situation is relatively safe, then it's worth trying.

And this does not mean that you personally are responsible for "centering men in your conversations" or "marginalized people putting in even more emotional labor" or "if a man is misogynist it's because you failed him" what the fuck ever like I've seen in this discourse. Come the fuck on.

It means you can probably try saying something to somebody you know. And if it doesn't work? You can say you tried.

On a policy level, we have more work to do. It shouldn't come as a surprise to any leftist that the current economic and political system in the USA exists to separate and exploit people. I think we all agree it really sucks to live in a system like this. Your average reactionary misogynist also thinks the system sucks, but as explained above, they've been trained to place the blame on some convenient scapegoats instead. Immigrants. Women. Queer people. Muslims. Anybody who's not white. Et cetera. "Government needs to get out of the way of smart people and then Elon Musk will build a utopia for The Faithful (which includes me) on Mars" or some shit.

These people need to hear that their anger is justified, but that their blame is misplaced. They need policies that will hold the responsible parties accountable. They need policies that won't leave them impoverished and isolated and exhausted after working a 40+ hour work week. They need to realize the system isn't sorting people into "the worthy rich" and "the unworthy poor", rather, that it's exploiting everyone except the wealth-owning class. They need to realize it's their politicians' biggest campaign donors that are doing this to them.

The Democratic Party needs to actually talk about this. I'll be dangerously pithy here: the Democratic Party needs to sound more like Bernie Fucking Sanders. Politicians need to oppose health insurance companies and get Medicare For All going. Politicians need to stop voting to give the military two fucking billion dollars every single day and fund free college and trade schools. Politicians need to tell business interests to fuck off and get a livable minimum wage AND a universal basic income passed, which will severely undercut employers' ability to exploit and isolate us.

And we need Citizens United repealed. Badly. I'm not trying to imply the problem is only with Republicans' campaign donors, because Democrats' biggest campaign donors are also often the same people exploiting us. But look at how Democrats did a tiny little bit of pro-union and anti-trust work these past 4 years and they screamed bloody fucking murder. If Democrats are relying on these people's money to get them elected, I think it's going to be really hard to get policies passed that will actually make USAmericans safer and happier (ie. address Republicans' economic fears that they keep blaming on various scapegoats).

Although with Republicans controlling the entire Federal government for the next two years minimum, this feels more distant than ever.

That's what we need to be taking seriously. If you don't give any credence to the fears and insecurities underlying the horrifying reactionary politics, you're not actually addressing anything. If you can't admit that capitalism fucks all of us over and makes all of us miserable and looking for a remedy, are you even a leftist?

[mintmatcha]

I am so soft for father figure Shinsou, thank you for giving me something I didn’t know I needed. Just doing everyday things with him and him being soft towards you child is giving me life.

Casual. That's the word you used to describe what the meeting should be. Casual.

"He's a good boy, for the most part." Your bag is already stuffed full of toys and towels and other miscellaneous things that Shinso can't imagine you'll need. "His dad spoils him, so he might be a little bratty at first- we're working on it. Well, I'm working on it. His dad is--"

You kneel down and start rummaging through your things.

"Uh, don't let him guilt you into buying him snacks, please. He's got a severe nut and seed allergy and it's just easier if I take care of it all. There's snacks in here, along with two epipens. There's two more in the red cabinet in the kitchen, just in case we ever need them. "

Somehow, you manage to wiggle out the sunscreen for your bag without collapsing the whole pile. You dollop a bit on your fingers.

"Once they get here, we'll go straight to the park and hang out there for just a little bit. The book says the first meeting should be short and we should give him other things to focus out so he doesn't stress out." Your shoulders are bunched by your ears. "It'll be super casual. Easy. No stress."

Shinso kneels down next to you and dips a finger in the sunscreen.

"No stress," Shinso repeats back, dotting the sunscreen on your nose. It's enough to urge a smile out of you.

"Sorry, I know I'm--" You toss your hands in the air, frazzled, but with a smile. "This is a big deal."

"I know it is."

"We've only been dating for eight months," you say/ "What if we're jumping the gun? I don't want to put him through this if-"

"I'm not planning on breaking up with you." Ever. Shinso wouldn't have agreed to this if he wasn't completely sure that you were the one for him. It's not that he doesn't like children, it's that he's never spent time with any. Only child, no cousins: he doesn't know anything about kids other than the fact he used to be one.

You reach other and dot Shinso's nose with sunscreen. Now, you're matching.

"You might break up with me after you see what I'm dealing with."

Shinso takes your hand. "I'm not going to leave because you have a kid."

"I was talking about his father," you heave out a sigh. "They'll probably be late, by the way."

-

They are late.

Significantly.

It's six hours past the allotted time, filled with weak excuses from you. The television has rolled into the second season of some trashy show, but neither of you are really watching.

"He always loses track of time," you repeat for the twentieth time, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. Shinso is long past disappointed, well into the area of 'pissed'. Mostly at your ex, partially at you, for letting it happen.

"He's still not calling you back?"

"No," you say, just like you've said before. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him know about you, he's just-- I dunno. Playing games with me again."

It contextualizes a lot of your behaviors, actually. The anxiety about getting home, the days you go radio silent, the dates where you suddenly have to run off and collect your child: he imagines there's a lot of bullshit games that happen between you two.

"You let him treat you like this?"

"He's my baby's father. I can't just..."

[alchemistc]

Buck's halfway through his third cup of startlingly bad coffee when Josh pushes the door to the breakroom open, looking mildly concerned in the half second before someone else looms over his shoulder.

He's too numb to do much more than take another sip of coffee as he watches Josh usher Tommy in.

The door clicks shut behind him. Buck wonders for a moment if Tommy's ever actually been to the new dispatch headquarters before. If he ever went to the old one, charming grin on his face while he waited for Abby to finish up so he could take her out, drive her home while her car was in the shop - but no, Tommy would have worked on it himself, maybe.

Had Josh recognized him, that first time, with half of his soot on Buck's face, and just never said anything?

The silence is tense. They're in a fishbowl, no room to lash out even if either of them wanted to because more than half the people working in this place can see them if they just tip their head to the side.

"How can I help?"

It's - his voice is strained, scared, worried. Buck doesn't have a single guess as to how he knows. Maybe Bobby. It's the only person he can think of who would have -.

Buck snorts. "I rebounded with a serial killer who just kidnapped my sister and my baby niece or nephew. I don't - I'm not sure what you want."

He glances up just in time to see the end of Tommy's grimace. Good. He's not sure how much more disastrous of a choice he could have made to try to get Tommy out of his system, but at least it hurts him to know. At least...

"Do you want me to go?"

Buck can't remember anyone asking, before. Usually they just... leave. Get up, walk out, disappear. Tommy bubbled Buck five times in three months. Buck went through seven bags of flour before he drove Eddie to the airport.

His voice shakes on his "No," and Tommy is there, all of the sudden, his hand hovering just over Buck's shoulder, like he realized halfway there it might not be welcome. "Do you still think I need to keep looking for someone better than you?"

It'd been seeing Tommy out with a guy that'd prompted him to stop fucking baking and make an effort to just...get over it But with Eddie away, and the rest of the 118 so wrapped up in their lives, there weren't a whole lot of outlets for that. And it's been easy to willfully misinterpret Tommy's breakup speech. Or - interpret it in the most hurtful way possible.

"Is this what you want to do right now?" Tommy asks, even and measured. "Will this help?"

"I want my sister back!"

Tommy takes a step back. His hands shift to his pockets, and Buck just wants -

"Why are you here?"

He tips his head up. Holds Tommy's gaze. Tommy flounders in a way Buck's never seen before.

He looks - tired. Good. White Henley under a flannel Buck had always told him brought out his eyes. The jeans Buck had stolen once or twice because they made his ass look good. His hair's grown in at the sides, and the sprinkling of greys are more obvious than the last time he'd seen it this length.

"I just... didn't want you to be alone."

Tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. He wants to laugh, but he's terrified if he starts he won't be able to hold in the fear. "When did that change?"

Tommy gnaws on his cheek. "You have so many people, Buck. You have -."

"I don't want emotional repression Tommy here, so if you're just here to keep me distracted until someone else can be here you should just... go."

Something flashes in his gaze. Anger, maybe. Terror.

"Please let me stay."

It hurts, to hear it. It hurts to hear the trepidation in his voice as he says it. Buck just wants to pull him in, tuck his face into the curve of his neck, soak in the warmth of his arms.

Buck spends too long staring at his knees. Long enough for Tommy to shift, to sigh, to nod his head decisively out of the corner of Buck's eye.

The word is stuck in his throat. Has been for months, since Tommy looked at him with teary eyes and walked away.

"I won't be able to let you go again."

He's already half turned away. Buck can only see half his expression as his eyes dip closed. He swallows. Nods, again.

Buck can't watch him push back through that door, so he stares at the toes of his boots until his vision starts to blur.

A second pair of toes swim into his eyeline. A hand shifts through his curls, snagging on knots, digging towards his scalp, and he can't quite bite back the sob. The arms that reach for him are warm, big and familiar, and Buck gives himself over to the panic and the fear that have been clawing at his chest for hours now. Tommy says something - whispers it into the air above Buck's head over and over, but Buck can't - he just -

He presses his face into Tommy's stomach, digs his fingers into the back of his shirt, sucks in horrible, gasping breaths. It's not enough. Nothing will be until he's got Maddie in his arms.

But it's more than he had an hour ago.

"Stay," he manages, and Tommy's fingers curl around Buck's neck and hold.

[fuctacles]

<< eight | 😺 | ten >>

a little poll while you're here

It's pure torture, sitting in a salon chair. Eddie briefly wonders how women can endure all this treatment and how many of them experience their first homoerotic thoughts under a hairdresser's touch.

The only time anyone is this hands-on with him is during sex, and even then it wildly depends on the partner. His body can't comprehend that it's not a bedroom setting, despite the intimacy of drawn curtains and soft music, and that it is not the time to pop a boner. 

Thankfully, Stephanie swiftly distracts him with questions about his interests, which always works on his nerdy brain. The fact that she's no longer massaging shampoo into his scalp also helps.

"I'm going to cut about this much, okay?" she asks after a moment of brushing and D&D talk, holding up the ends of his hair so he can see. 

"Sure. There's so much of it you can cut more," he jokes but Stephanie cocks her head, pursing her mouth.

Gods he wishes she'd stop making her lips look so kissable. 

"Don't you want to grow them out even more? I think it would look good."

She could also stop praising his hair and overall look.

"You think I could pull off ass-long elvish hair?" he smiles at her mirror reflection. 

"Hm..." She looks at him completely seriously, plays with the hair around his face, and traces the line of his cheeks with the tips of her nails. Whatever vision of him Steph is conjuring in her mind, she seems to like it. "I think yes. Absolutely," she decides, but Eddie doesn't remember what he has just asked.

"Only the ends, then?" she asks, backing away so he can release the breath he's been holding.

"Yeah. Just the ends." He tries to nod, but she swiftly taps her comb on the top of his head. 

"Don't move your head unless I say so," she scolds him with a played-up frown.

"Yes ma'am," he's quick to agree. It's her kingdom and all that. Also, she's maneuvering sharp objects around his head. 

"Good boy," Stephanie smiles again and one of these sharp object might as well have just pierced his heart. 

He knows he won't leave this ordeal unscathed. 

"Could you dye just a streak of my hair? Some weird color, like red?"

Eddie can see her little smile in the mirror. It's a knowing smirk like she was anticipating that question, and this hint of condescension makes her look hot as Hell. 

"If you want red-red and not ginger-red, then I'd have to order the dye," she says, thoughtfully combing through his hair. Stephanie works fast, though, so he's pretty sure she should be done soon. There's another snip of her scissors before she straightens up to look at him properly. 

"As you can imagine, there aren't many adventurous metalheads in Hawkins to work on."

"I'll let you know that during longer breaks there are at least four."

Stephanie laughs.

"Your bandmates, right? But are they all as willing to experiment with their hair?" She raises her eyebrow, and she's suddenly up in his face. The counter behind her creaks under her weight and Eddie wonders how nice it would be to feel it on his lap.

"Well... Gareth's been growing it out," he offers. 

"If he has anything in mind, let me know," she smiles. "I should probably look more into what's new and hip among kids anyway."

"If you weren't holding scissors, I'd pinch you," Eddie scoffs. "New and hip among kids," he repeats under his breath. 

Stephanie rolls her eyes. 

"There's a big difference in hairstyles between Hawkins and Indianapolis though, you can't deny that." She straightens up again to wet her comb in the sink. "Close your eyes."

He does as he's told. 

"Would you want to be—" his breath catches embarrassingly when her damp fingers touch his chin to angle his head where she wants it. "—a hairdresser in a city like that?" he asks.

She hums in affirmation as she combs through his fringe. A stray droplet falls on his nose and she swipes it away with her finger. Eddie wants to lick it clean.

"I've been saving for a second salon, actually. The prices in the city are crazy though."

"Really?" Eddie raises his eyebrows since it's all he can do right now, considering there's a snip of scissors way too close to his eye. He thinks about having Stephanie up in Indianapolis with him. In the same city, that is, close enough to drop for a friendly visit. He could show her all his favorite places, too. 

She hums.

"Do you cut your fringe yourself?" she asks suddenly. 

Eddie sighs. 

"Does it show?"

"Not really," she chuckles. "You did a good job, honestly. It's slightly choppy, but it suits you, so I'm just gonna even it out and leave it like that."

"Oh. Thank you."

She hums again, snipping some hair by his left temple. 

"If I didn't like working with hair, staying here would be torture," she picks up their previous topic. "I got this place shortly before Robin had to move, and I felt stuck in Hawkins without her. But I'm making good money here so I figured I could save enough for a place over there." She combs his fringe again, snips once, and then he can hear a clank when she puts her tools away. 

"How much more do you need?" Eddie asks and then jumps when she touches his face again, dusting stray hair from his cheeks. 

"A bit," she says, but it sounds like more than that. "I was going to sell this place to add to it, but then Robin was talking about opening a chain, so now I'm training Joyce to take over here. Don't tell her though." She bops his nose suddenly, making him squeak. "It's kind of a surprise and I need time to figure it out. You can open your eyes."

Eddie blinks his eyes open and smiles as soon as he can see Stephanie again. But she moves aside, to reveal the mirror behind her. 

"I know it's not much, but is that okay?"

There's indeed not much of a difference, other than his hair being an inch or two shorter and his fringe laying a bit better against his skin. 

"Yes, I'm never cutting it by myself," he says, lightly brushing the hair framing his face with his fingers.

"I can totally do it for you whenever you visit," she agrees easily. "Now, do you want some color in your hair anyway? Because I could bleach that streak you want dyed later, but we would have to deal with the roots when you come back."

Eddie hums thoughtfully. 

"How light can you go? Can you give me like, a white Bride of Frankenstein streak?" 

Stephanie snorts at that. 

"I'm afraid not." She purses her lips, gently rubbing a lock of his damp hair between her fingers. "At least not with what I have on hand. Your hair isn't that thick but it's dark enough to be a challenge for bleaching. I may be good, but I'm not good enough to promise it wouldn't burn to a crisp." She smiles apologetically. 

"I'll wait for the red dye, then." Eddie shrugs. "No problem." 

"Okay. I'll grab the conditioner then, and we should be done soon." Stephanie pats his shoulder and he briefly considers asking her for something outlandish just to keep her working with his hair. 

my boyos:

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94

@tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman

@madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system

[spiderbitesandvampirevenom]

I mean, I think you partially answered your own question there. Because you're right, If we treat TMA/TME as a binary it can't include intersex issues. And you're right, it is often applied without any consideration towards intersex issues. However, my point with the original post is that TMA/TME isn't and shouldn't be a binary.

First of all, lets talk real quick about the terms themselves. Transmisogyny Affected/Exempt. These are deceptively simple labels, and I think that's where a lot of the confusion comes up for people. Transmisogyny can refer to specific interpersonal acts, but it's also first and foremost a term describing the societal system that is designed to oppress transfems, i.e. people who were Assigned Male At Birth and no longer identify with that. And at a systemic level, that is the deciding factor. Transmisogyny picks its targets based on that assignment at birth. Individually, people who were not AMAB may find themselves the target of interpersonal transmisogyny, just as any individual can be mistakenly targeted by bigotry that doesn't apply to them. I get misdirected anti-hispanic shit thrown at me all the time, it doesn't make me hispanic. Likewise, being subjected to transmisogyny as someone who was AFAB does not necessarily make one TMA.

You're right, though, being intersex means you're not necessarily going to fall neatly into either a TMA or a TME bucket. Which means unfortunately when perisex people get to spend some time adjusting to the concept in Transmisogyny 1001: Transfemininity for Babies, you've been forced to skip ahead a bit to Transmisogyny 2001: Critical Thinking & Intersectionality. I don't know you or anything about you, so I'm not gonna talk too specifically here, I'm just trying to give you the lead to make your own analysis. SO. Here we go.

On some issues, you might be reasonably considered affected by transmisogyny. Depending on where you live and how legislation is written, you might find yourself targeted by transmisogynistic legislation. On many issues, however, as someone who was AFAB, you will find you are not going to be affected systemically by those issues. Because Transmisogyny's primary target is (primarily perisex) people who were AMAB and are now transfem. Regardless of whether or not you're TMA/TME though, this overlap in the treatment of transfem people and intersex people means we get to do something really cool called Intersectionality, where we focus on discussing the shared problems our communities face. Like personally, I don't particularly care whether or not you're TMA/TME. The fact that we have shared experiences matters more than the labels at that point. Transmisogyny and Intersexism have very similar playbooks and a lot of the time, one is going to include some level of the other. I'd rather discuss the intersection of our experiences than try to delineate where one starts and the other ends.

you folks realise TME isnt just a new synonym for transmasc right. like you realize when trans women are talking about TransMisogyny Exempt Individuals that includes, like, for example, cis men and women, right?? if you're gonna throw a fit over TMA/TME being "a new binary" i think you are a) purposefully misrepresenting these terms for the sake of delegitimizing them or b) being taken advantage of by those who do so. check your transmisogyny and do better lmao.

[lover-of-mine]

Hi, welcome to Buck just had his oh moment and the color theory of it all.

Usual shoutout to @stagefoureddiediaz because being mind meld with her is what's getting me here lol

First, I'm gonna break my own rule and give too much power to the showrunners, I know I keep saying not to, but hear me out. Buck, Bothered and Bewildered is on Buck's pov, right? That was made clear by the episode and then confirmed in interviews that that was the vision, and well, Tim also said that that scene was from Buck's pov, it's all about Buck's reaction and how he will go crazy about this because he's abandonment issues personified, that is also confirmed with the way we don't see what Eddie is doing until he tells Buck, we are learning things at the same time as Buck is.

Okay, well, why am I going back to 704? Well, Buck's fear of losing Eddie (I don't care what Buck says, he wanted Eddie's attention) made him go completely batshit crazy last time. But it also triggered something really important: Buck's bisexuality. And they just repeated that trigger, but this time with Buck choosing to walk in.

They repeated the bt first kiss structure but with Buck making the choices that create that change. The bt kiss, Buck is working on some bills, Tommy shows up, Buck is spiraling because of Eddie, Tommy kisses him, Buck has the bisexual realization. The 808 scene, Eddie is working on the houses, Buck shows up, he's spiraling about Tommy, Eddie reveals something, and Buck is snapped into the realization. Important thing to notice is that Buck still doesn't fully understand the depth of what his relationship with Tommy showed him about himself, so Buck still might not understand the impact of what his abandonment issues just told him while he was sitting on Eddie's couch. And it's all on Buck's pov.

But Anna, you said color theory.

I'm getting there. Because, well, the bt kiss is blue and red.

Same as 808. So we are evoking the same feeling, especially because of Buck's short sleeves and the buttons (and not a white shirt under this like he had all season lol)

And thinking about the blue and yellow coding Buck's bi arc, he worked his way to lighter blues. He starts with the navy blue colors until that lighter teal tone from the coming out scene.

It's also interesting that in the scenes that are about Eddie in a sense, when he's talking to Maddie and he got it right about it being about Eddie, and the coming out scene being about their friendship, are lighter colors along with Buck matching his background. We don't have the yellow elements but we have that cohesion on the frame composition. (I guess the 606 hoodie also counts since blue and green theory but I don't want to make another image now).

If you're new here, the theory is that Buck worked his way to his blue from darker colors, his blue being the color he is wearing during the coming out scene (and Eddie will find his yellow, but we are not talking about Eddie).

We are back in the darker blue but the composition of the scene is lighter. Buck is literally in front of the light as he is talking to Eddie in the kitchen, and it's the middle of the day.

He matches the background, the couch, the Texas frame, the lighting is also a lot colder than it usually is in Eddie's house. And it's also very important that he is on the couch, because yay couch theory.

But Anna how does any of this prove anything?

Well, Buck is working his way back to his blue while in the darker colors, because while he got the bisexuality part right, Tommy wasn't the right person, and he's finally back in the light, we don't have the dimmed light and the obstruction of his face created by the shadow, dare I saw Buck is finally starting to see things clearer.

But why am I so sure? The shirt he was wearing today?

Same color but in a darker shade than his blue.

Buck is back on the discovery feeling that comes with the darker blue but this time he's in the correct hue, he just needs to get to the right shade, and he just figured something out.

Abandonment issues personified just had his oh moment about Eddie at the thought of losing him permanently, sitting on Eddie's couch while wearing his blue.

Other things to notice, Buck knocked but walked in before Eddie could get to the door, he used his key and the knocking was just to let Eddie know he was there, Buck is the one who suggests moving to the couch and the couch ties it back to the couch theory and the 601 dinner, dare I say that even Buck offering to bake for Eddie and the cooking aspect of it all, and the idea that the couch is home and home is a person and for Buck that's Eddie.

Something else is the way that we finally see someone eating whatever it is Buck is stress baking. Madney don't eat at the loft and the chief interrupts them at the firehouse. Eddie on the other hand is DIGGING into those. And food in 911, in media in general, is about connection, and is very pointedly about love here, and the whole stress baking is great because the kitchen is Buck's safe space, he cooks for people he loves, we see that from when Maddie comes back, to the pointed way he gets take out for his parents in 610, to the lasagna, making chilly with Bobby, cooking for the house on 709 and getting Bobby's approval. And the fact that we are getting Eddie eating what Buck's nervous state is creating while allowing Buck to just go through his kitchen to make more because he is not about to not accept every part of Buck Buck offers him is important.

The fact that Eddie isn't objecting to Buck rummaging around his kitchen is also important in the way the show uses Eddie's house in a meta way, kinda like the way the show uses the loft to match Buck's spirits in a sense, how the kitchen is his heart and for family, how the living room ends up being for guests and it's made pointed about the couch his mother bought "for his guests", Eddie's kitchen and the whole way it's the space Eddie allows himself to be vulnerable but there's the thing of honesty, the core of who Eddie is is tied to the kitchen, and the fact that he's just letting Buck move around like it's his kitchen ads a lot. Buck is the only person who walked into the house through the back door, Buck has a key, Buck has been in every room (except the bathroom but I think they are saving that for buddie canon), that's home for him too and Eddie never thinks to question and Buck never thinks to doubt it ("this is Eddie's house, I'm not really a guest").

Anyway, Buck oh moment real. Buddie 8b real. Color theory got me so high I'm wondering this is what doing hard drugs feels like. I think this is all I have to say. I might come back, who knows? I don't.

If you read this I love you.

taglist (interact with this post if you wanna get tagged)

@sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @singitforthegirls @dangerpronebuddie @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @miles--to--go @jesuisici33 @wolfdeans @lunarsolar1 @joshwritesfics @glasscities @kejfeblintz @stagefoureddiediaz @mosaicstardust @eddiedisasterdiaz @hermioneindisguise @queerprincesseddiediaz @lookforanewangle @becausebuckley @lemotmo @thenainitaldisaster @epiaphany @trudayss @shelfthe-reader @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @buckgettingstruck @scoupsahoy @the-whispers-of-death @iced-coffee-jesus @izzysbeans @starkytower @thegeekcompanion @sunflower-eddiediaz @bucks-daddy-issues

@dingdongfries @angelcamael

[magicalrocketships]

pretty much every day i just think abt small!max saying "daniel, my daniel" when he sees dan. it's with me forever!! ok that's all

Okay, this awakened something in me, and I've missed Go Small! Max. Thank you, anon!

All earlier parts can be found in this masterpost and on AO3 here.

Five times Max calls Daniel ‘my Daniel’ (and one other time)

One. 

"No," Max says politely but with zero room for negotiation. "I don't want that."

That is a plate of sandwiches that look decidedly soggy, oil softened vegetables leaking out of a thickly sliced sourdough. 

Daniel looks up at the waiter. "Could you do some sliced bread and butter instead?" he asks, moving Max's plate out from in front of him. He finds room for it on the table next to him and opens up the sandwiches, starting to scrape the vegetables out onto the plate. In hindsight, it was a bad order. He'd seen the tomatoes and thought that Max might like them. 

The waiter comes back over with two slices of bread and a pat of butter; Daniel makes yet more room on the table to butter the bread and cut it into halves, then deposits it in front of Max. He goes back to scraping the mediterranean vegetables out of the sandwich, dumps the bread on his plate, then starts to pull out the tomatoes so that they're separate from the rest of the vegetables. He offers the plate to Max, who stares at it dubiously. 

"You like tomatoes," Daniel says. 

"Hmm," Max says. 

Daniel doesn't force him. He sets the plate down and shows Max his fork in case he wants to try anything, then eats his own pesto chicken on toasted sourdough. 

Max picks at his bread and butter, then after eating a piece, he uses his fork to carefully eat two little roasted tomatoes. He clearly considers this enough vitamins and nutrients for this meal, and goes back to his bread and butter. He does, however, drink his apple juice. 

"Is the bread nice?" Daniel asks. His sandwich is decidedly mediocre. 

Max considers. "Yes," he says finally. "Thank you, my Daniel."

Something inside of Daniel's chest shifts. He's changed forever. 

"Good," he says, his voice catching. "I'm glad."

&&&

Two. 

Max hasn't wet the bed in weeks. The nightlights had finally managed to turn frequent into infrequent into barely ever. 

Barely ever isn't not ever, though. Daniel's woken up by an insistent little hand on his shoulder. "My Daniel," Max says, sniffling. 

Daniel blinks away sleep. "What's up?"

"The bed's wet," Max says. 

Daniel sits up. "That's okay, Maxy-Max," he says. "That's okay. Nobody's mad."

Max sucks in a ragged, tearful breath. 

Daniel kisses Max's flushed forehead. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

Max tucks his hand into Daniel's, sleepy and tearful, and holds on. 

&&&

Three. 

"I didn't know where you were," Max says reprovingly, once he's discovered Daniel face down on the sofa, snoring into a Pokemon cushion with the TV on low, and poked him awake. "There's no breakfast bowl."

That is a reprimand. The rule is, no TV before breakfast. TV is allowed with breakfast, but the new rule came into force last week when Max refused to eat anything because he wanted to watch Detective Pikachu through to the end even though his tummy was rumbling. So: no TV before breakfast. 

Daniel didn't go to sleep until after four, though, and he's only out here in the living room because he'd finally got bored of watching the time tick by on his sunrise alarm clock and had resigned himself to pulling an all-nighter. He'd come out here to drink coffee and watch whatever he could find on TV in the middle of the night, then had promptly passed out eight minutes into an old episode of Friends. 

"You have to turn the TV off," Max repeats. 

Daniel obliges. He still feels mostly asleep. He rubs his fists into his eyes. 

"Hmm," Max says. 

"I didn't sleep very well," Daniel says. He doesn't look at his watch but Max likes to be awake pretty early. As an adult Max likes to sleep late, but kid Max doesn't feel the same way. Consequently, Daniel's life has flipped to an early bird timetable. His body hasn't quite caught up, though, and there have always been nights where he's stared at the ceiling for far too many hours. "Might have to be careful with me today, champ." He does finger guns to try and make it cool, but he's just tired. 

Max blinks at him. "Okay, my Daniel." He turns on his heel and disappears out of the living room, before coming back in clutching Pikachu. "You can hug Pikachu," he says. There's a pause. "Can we have breakfast now?"

Daniel laughs. "Sure can," he says, wrapping an arm around Pikachu's round middle. "What are we having today? Would monsieur like a fish? An omelette?" He does his silliest French accent. It's very bad. Max laughs. He always has the exact same breakfast. Max likes cereal. Cereal, and his milk in his own special jug. He won't entertain anything else. "A croissant, Max? A fried egg? Un oeuf?"

"No, no, no," Max says. "Cereal, please."

"Coming right up, monsieur," Daniel says, and as Max pads into the kitchen in his pyjamas, Daniel's heart skips a little soft beat. 

&&&

Four. 

"Daniel, my Daniel," Max calls, barely even waiting for Daniel to get out of the car. Daniel's been into the village to get fresh bread for lunch, and he's come back with wine for him and his parents, a few bits and pieces his dad had wanted for their dinner that evening, and a new bat and ball game for if Max can be tempted out of the pool for any significant period of time. 

Daniel grabs the bags. "Maxy-Max," he calls back, finishing off with his best camel impression just to make him laugh. He wanders around to the back of the house to the pool, where his mum and dad are — predictably — in the water with Max. "Mum, Dad. Everyone present and correct, I see."

"Watch me," Max tells him, clambering out of the pool and getting water everywhere. "Look what I can do now!" 

"I'm watching," Daniel says. 

He watches Max sit down on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. He puts his hands above his head, shaped like he's going to dive, and Daniel knows what he's going to see. This is how he got taught to go into the water face first. His parents taught him and now they're teaching Max. 

Max tilts forward and forward until he's going into the water in a little seated dive. He emerges from the water, beaming, to Daniel's mum and dad clapping him, and Daniel cheering. Max swims over to the steps, and Daniel's waiting for him at the top of them. He gets a very wet and very excited hug. 

"Did you see?" Max asks. 

"I saw," Daniel says. He blinks away tears. He doesn't know why he's crying. "I saw, and you were brilliant."

"Good," Max says solidly, and follows Daniel inside, little wet footprints all the way after him. 

&&&

Five. 

Max is three. He's sleepy and full, a solid little lump in Daniel's lap. He's demanded three stories already before bed tonight, and Daniel's accommodating because in the morning this little version of Max might be gone. Daniel might get his seven year old Max back, or he might wake up to an empty bed and two missing cats, and Max having left to pick his life back up. 

Daniel kisses the top of Max's head. "This is the last story," he says, but he'll probably stretch it out until Max falls asleep right where he's sitting. There's no rush, anyway. There's nothing for either of them to do with their days. He turns the pages in their little book about kittens.

"My Daniel," Max says sleepily, a little garbled around his thumb. He sucks his thumb when he's three, and Daniel hasn't any interest in stopping him. He'll let Max have anything he finds comforting. He deserves the little kindnesses. 

"My Max," Daniel says softly. Max is falling asleep in his arms, his eyes drooping. It's time to put him to bed. "Time for sleep, my little Max. Time for bed."

Max is asleep by the time Daniel's carried him through into the bedroom. He doesn't stir as Daniel tucks him in, as he makes sure the nightlights are all turned on and that Pikachu's in easy reach. 

He stands in the doorway for a long time before he turns away. 

&&&

(And Another Time)

Daniel is so, so tired. His body feels heavy. His mum had gone with him to the doctor's yesterday, and they'd stopped at a pharmacy on the way home to pick up his new pills. She'd brought him a glass of water and a plate of crackers to have with the first dose. He'd downed them all obediently. 

They're not magic. He's not woken up this morning feeling happy again, or like his chest is more than the black, sucking hole where his heart used to be. 

He doesn't open his eyes. A tear escapes without his permission. He hates this. He hates feeling like he does right now, hates the nothingness, the weight of his body against the earth. 

"Hey, Daniel, my Daniel." It's Max, sleeping next to him for the fourth night in a row. He's big but he hasn't left. He always leaves but this time he hasn't. He's still here. He strokes Daniel's hair. "It is okay. I am here and your mum's here. We will make it all all right again. I promise, Daniel. You don't need to cry." He strokes his thumb under Daniel's eye, catching Daniel's stray tears. He wipes his thumb on the sheets then curls his hand into Daniel's. He laces their fingers together. "We've got you."

And Daniel, desperate, holds on. 

&&&

(thank you to Lin @andwegogreen for reading these as I wrote them tonight 🧡🧡🧡)

[shaisuki]

Hello!

I'm in looooveeee with ur work <3

So I wanted to ask if you could do a fic about yandere toji who kidnapped chubby darling... but still degrades her....and after chubby darling has had enough, she lashes out on him. He punishes her (　＾ω＾)

and chubby darling escapes the first chance she gets to do so ( i would love a scene where darling tries to fight toji off!! )

I love your works ♡♡♡

Thanks for reading this !

Byee (^-^)/

(*ゝω･*)

there isn't a way to fight someone like toji.

he was built for the violence and anything that entails with it. killing someone is easy as ripping a paper and toji with his reputation as an assassin didn't sit with you well. knowing you were in his grasp with no way out.

since the day where he introduced you to your new home, it was hell. you were the outlet for his frustrations while you played the dutiful role of a housewife. a warm meal served to him when he comes home while he earns the cold cash. a clean home that devoid of any dirt and unwashed laundry that would had last for days without you and a pussy for him to warm his cock whenever he wants it and a body to use as an outlet for his frustrations.

the first time you showed resistance to him, you ended up with a sore ass that if he took it even further you'll end up with blistered skin from how harsh the spanking was and from how rough he was when he took you.

it was a warning to never do it again and if you did it again, you were dead meat long time ago. you didn't resist after that and you played along to his whims that it almost drove you crazy. you're not going to get chummy from a assassin who took you away from home. never.

doesn't mean that you never counted the days, crossing out the dates in the calendar will you ever be free to him.

sweat trickled down your forehead when you hear the front door open. his steps heavy and dull thud can be heard. you never pry what his bag contains. it was not your business and you don't want to be involved in whatever shady dealings he had.

you listened for a moment. toji can be unpredictable at times. sometimes when he lost in his gambling, he'll come home with that irritating look on his face and he calls for you. telling you to put him in a good mood and you never say anything and you take it with your lips sealed and movements that was almost robotic. it's only temporary is what you console yourself.

a shiver went down your spine when you felt toji's presence behind you. it feels like he wasn't almost there that's what got you here in the first place. you didn't see him coming. “what're you doin' princess.” you ignored him. biting the inside of your cheek to avoid any remarks that you will regret.

the brute of a man ignored your silence and his eyes travels to the sundress you wore. fitting like a glove to your plush body. “looking pretty, dressing up for someone?” he sneers. cupping your sex behind you, his breath fanning your round cheek. you try not to wince.

“as if you'll let me go outside to meet someone.” you bite your tongue after that but you realize it's too late. well, might as continue it. say the things you'll get punished for.

a almost wheeze escapes through your lips. your hands scratching his arm but despite that, he remains unfazed. trying to pry his hands off you that is wrapping around your throat. it was enough to choke you without much cutting your air supply.

toji's voice were gravelly as he spoke. shaking his head in a manner that he can't believe what he was seeing and hearing. “you still have the fire in you and i thought you lost it after shaping you to be my own personal bitch.”

“fuck you.” a choked gasp coming from you when he tightens his grip around your throat. “i'll never submit to someone like you.” wincing as you see the veins in his arms bulge and you were really pissing him off.

toji licks his lips. dragging to where his scar is. “oh, really?” he snarls. his eyes darkening like he wants to kill. his bloodlust was all over and you can feel it. “let me see if i won't make you submit by doing thi–”

shards of glass came clattering on the cold floor. your hands came scrambling to whatever stuff it can get on and the vase was the first thing you had grabbed and without hesitation you slammed it to the side of his forehead. blood trickles where he was struck and it wasn't for toji to keel over. he only looks at you, annoyed like it wasn't a damage to be hit with a vase. this man took bullets and stab wounds and won't be alone defeated by being slammed with a vase.

angered by your action, with a strength that was easy for him, he slammed you to the cold marbled table of the kitchen that it almost cracked at the impact. you let out a cough. trying to get much air as you can. your air being cut off by being almost strangled let your mind forced to survived of possible scenarios to help you escape the danger you were in and without thinking, you kicked him hard as you can between his legs.

that loosens his grasp into you and giving him no more to recover, your eyes darts to the toaster resisting. it's funny how you look at it, and you doubt it can damage him further but it was better than nothing. you raised your arms holding the toaster and gathering all the anger you have for him and then slamming it behind his back. you hear him curse and without turning back, you ran.

grabbing a small bag that you prepared when push comes to shove and this was the time. after hastily putting your shoes on. you ran like the wind after slamming the door behind you.

without turning back and going for the nearest bus stop and with that, tears streamed down your face. not bothering the odd looks bystanders were giving you. cause for the first time you were free. free from that hell hole and yo his grasp. you ain't going back here and going to the farthest you only know.

this must be the taste of freedom and for the first time, you can breathe.

[beautifullilacsky]

I have been feeling weird these days. Frankly, just not great. Pretty bad. I have been belittling myself, trying to hide and disappear. What has helped me? Going for a walk by myself. Listening to an audiobook and realizing there are things that I enjoy doing and that make the time pass. Belasting music through my earplugs while in the bathroom, and looking in the mirror as I start to move my body and dance. Write with myself; so pure and vulnerable. So understanding and loving towards myself. I felt like myself again. I reflected on a drawing, where I added a text. I realized that I was, or am, trapped. I try to disappear, trying to hide from everyone. Hoping to protect myself from dissapointing people and being too much. From them leaving, or realizing they no longer love me. Then I went on to mention how lonely it is here, isolating me and who I am, while there is someone out there who does love me for me. It then turned into wondering why I am here. And why these leaves, in which I tried to disappear, are so heavy. I realize that I am no longer wanting to hide. Rather, I am trapped. Trapped into my own hideaway. Where the leaves are no longer lovingly embracing me, they are cutting into my skin. Reflecting helped me realize it, and realize I want to get out. And I have the power to do so.

Frankly, I want to be like in the gif every single day. I also honestly know that I could. I can find casual magic in everything. I can be so passionate about life and everything it has to offer. That feels like the true me. The one who experiences it all, and is grateful for it. Sure, the other parts of me are also me. But I feel my best when I am I that mood. The mood from the gif. My boyfriend is out right now, volleyballing until the very early hours. His roommate is also not home. It is just me, and gash. I am excited. I have already listened to music and danced, but I also ate too much and feel very full right now. Either way.. it is scary to be so me. To be so vulnerable and truly myself in front of someone. I know I can do it. I acted this way during our vacation. Why is it so hard to just be myself? To trust someone enough to be my true self? It's a safe space, babygirl. Sure, sometimes it hurts in this place. But don't you dare pull back because of it. I mean, to be fair, how could anyone ever do anything but smile when they see someone living life like that? What do I expect? The worst that could happen is that someone finds it interesting how you can enjoy and aren't ashamed in public. BUTO BE FAIR EH? WHHHHHYY IS IT SOMETHING TO BE ASHAMED OF? I fucking LOVE people who enjoy like that. I wish I could be surrounded by them. So baby, if the people around you aren't like that, okay and??? Be like that for yourself. He doesn't show his emotions the way you do? Okay and??? Let him experience his emotions the way he wants to. He can honestly count himself blessed to be with a person who can enjoy life so fully. Please, love this part of yourself. Well, you already do. But do it without shame. Do it proudly. Embrace it, truly. You have been taking everything for granted. It's time to be grateful, and be so without any doubt. Please, enjoy life the way you were meant to. Learn to be yourself, the way you are yourself when you are alone. He might not vibe on the same level, but that doesn't mean you should dim your own light. Yoyoyo, please learn to be yourself. Your silly, cute, life-enjoying self. I love the way you are , babygirl. So will he. And if he doesn't, that's big time his loss. Though, I'm pretty sure he loves this part of you, too. I know you love this part of you, so show off that you love her. She is yours. Show your love off by letting her out, the way you'd want someone to love this part of you. She deserves to come out and enjoy life with you. Whoever else is around. She feels safe with you. Please let her feel safe around him, too. He'd embrace her the way she wants to be embraced. Just like on our vacation. That you can still come out during the daily life without any judgement, you know?

[mkmas]

Jude Jazza - A story about a ruthless and arrogant man and an unfulfilled promise (JP ECB)

as usual I don’t own the story or characters, they belong to cybird. some things might’ve translated not as smoothly but i tried to get close to the original tone + eng isn’t my first language so forgive any mistakes ;-; also beware of some spoilers about his backstory

I wonder when it happened.

When my sister was still alive, she and I had a high fever.

(I was in so much pain l felt like I was dying.)

(I remember her asking me to distract her from the agony of the high fever.)

Jude: “What do you want to do when you’re rich?”

It was a playful way to forget, even for a moment, the pain of the day.

Jude’s younger sister: “Anything?”

Jude: “Sure.”

The pained look on my sister's face breaks into a little smile of joy.

Jude’s younger sister: “If that's the case, let's see… I want to go to the moon!”

My sister's eyes, which are the same amethyst color as mine, look towards the highest point in the sky. There, like a jewel dropped into the deep sea, there was a round moon floating in the jet black.

(...... Ha, the moon.)

Jude: "Idiot, even if I had that kind of money I can’t do that.”

(I've never heard of humans going to the moon.)

Jude’s younger sister: “But the Queen’s got the whole world on her palm, right?”

Jude’s younger sister: "If we can go around the world, can't we go to the moon?"

How much money does the Queen have? As I was thinking about whether it was really possible to go to the moon with that kind of money...

Jude’s younger sister: "Hey, brother, promise me. When you become rich, take me to the moon."

A human being going to the moon is a dream too ridiculous to be true. But my sister, who might die tomorrow, needed hope at this moment.

Jude: "I got it. I'll use money, magic, anything to get you there.”

Jude’s younger sister: “Brother, it's lame to think you can use magic.”

Jude: “Keep quiet.”

Jude’s younger sister: "I'm going to go to the moon. I have to get well soon."

Jude: “That's right. We have to get you better."

Only when I was with my sister, I felt something like the outline of happiness. Every time her small hand grasped mine, a warm feeling spread across my chest. But before the feeling of happiness could develop, I always felt sorry for her. Just when I was thinking that one day I would make my sister happy. She was bought with money, and then she died after.

And then I - I swore revenge.

By the time I started my trading company upon graduating from public school, I had the noblemen who killed my sister completely by the scruff of the neck.

Even though they were already busy dealing with taxes, it piled up even more with debt.

-- After their mansion and land were all seized, I went to meet the people who bought my sister.

Jude: “Thank you very much for your time.”

Nobleman: "W-what are you? W-Wa...!"

I grabbed the hair of the most pompous looking nobleman sitting in the chair as hard as I can.

Jude: “You guys are the ones who buy poor children and make them do bad things."

Jude: “There's no point in trying to make excuses. Everything can be backed up."

The nobleman’s eyes widen as I flung the report that contains numerous misdeeds I’ve already investigated.

I dragged him down and stamped on his head as hard as I can with my shoe.

Jude: "Confess. A few years ago, you bought a kid with asthma from a longshoreman."

Nobleman: “Well that’s… Uh.”

Jude: “Confess…!”

No matter how much I hurt them, the noblemen didn't speak.

Then I realized.

They really don’t remember.

When I threatened the servant, he trembled and spilled everything.

Servant: “I buried so many people in the garden that I can't remember who's who…”

When I headed for the garden of the beautiful mansion, I found that only one corner had been dug up in an unnatural manner.

Jude: “…….”

-- So so many. I sit in front of one of the piles and gently touched it with my fingertips.

Jude: “Brother is here... Answer me.”

I didn’t hear anything.

I didn’t even know if she was here.

All I know is that it was already too late.

So then I introduced the nobles to my father and brother, who were still working at the port, sipping muddy water.

(Isn't it great to do hard physical labor with the person you sold your daughter to?)

I had my subordinates watch over as they were weakened by the humiliation of the harsh labor.

I did nothing, I just watched.

Soon after, the nobles, my father, and my brother were all dead.

I killed them all.

-……De.

-……Jude.

Ellis: “Jude.”

(Ellis….?)

(……Ah, I fell asleep.)

It seems that because I didn't get enough sleep, I passed out while sitting.

(--- Even if it's)

Ellis: “What kind of dream was it?”

Jude: “Hah?”

Ellis: “You sounded like you had a nightmare.”**

Jude: “It was a shitty dream.”

Ellis: “I see. Jude is unhappy even in his dreams.”

Jude: “Shut up dumbass.”

Ellis smiles and looks somewhere else.

When I followed Ellis' line of sight, I saw a full moon floating there.

Ellis: "I guess Jude won't be happy until he gets to that moon."

(I know the truth. Even if I went to that moon, I wouldn't be happy.)

My sister whom I promised to is dead.

I can't take her to the moon.

The crazy dream I have is a promise that will never come true.

Ellis: "Hey, Jude. Can you breathe on the moon?"

Jude: “Ah?”

Ellis: "I'm just worried if Jude dies there before I can kill him."

Jude: “You really are fucking crazy. It can’t be helped.”

Still, I only have this promise.

That's why—.

(Someday I'll go to the moon.)

**Just in case this small detail matters (not really but) he was making sounds like people usually having nightmares do. i bet he gets these nightmares often;-;**

*If anything got deleted and i didn’t notice it’s probably tumblr being weird on my ipad bc of storage ahajaj)

TN: OK wow after reading his backstories… my crack theory about jude and the moon some time ago turned out to be at least 70% right? also jude has always been pretty snarky/sarcastic haha even to his younger sister (a little) i have a loooot of thoughts on his backstory but ill dump it after finishing his route. it really is dark and horrible how the rich people bought children and just…. did all that…. i support jude torturing crazy nobles 🙂‍↕️

[themintman]

My opinions on some ships and characters 😼😼😼

Ill explain some stuff in the tags if yall are curious hehe ALSO IN THE REBLOGS. TUMBLR SILENCED ME 😔💔

Template by @stervil !!!

[seewetter]

This seems like a series of perplexing opinions.

Sure, trains were built by capitalists for the needs of capital. Unsurprisingly, that's their historical context and intended purpose.

And yes, trains imply long-distance travel. Trains imply transporting goods across vast distances. Trains imply an interconnected society, a society whose needs and ambitions are geographically quite far-ranging. In a world with train networks, someone or something is traveling far beyond a local village.

And I agree with girl-debord's first post in this thread and don't see anything particularly weird about it. But that's because I give people the benefit of the doubt when I can. To me, saying "tech is not neutral" is a fine statement to make, because tech is embedded in social processes and can often cause harm through them. We can use mass surveillance tools to monitor the health of animal populations, for example, but that is not their main use -- and in cases like that, the wonderful use case is only relevant because of problems caused by capitalism to begin with. Would we worry about rhinoceros or dolphin population decline without a capitalist society, where "free markets" have generated mass production processes for fishing industries and generated market pressures on black-market ivory trade or the cutting down of forests?

"what are you even trying to say here? mass movement of things and people is bad?" Not every Tumblr post drawing a connection between capitalist interests and the creation of something is morally condemning that thing. That said, it's possible to assume that the Debord quote "it should be understood that this apparatus is in no way neutral" is being used as moral condemnation here, so it's a fair question, I guess.

"moving objects for significant distances along the ground" is a priority to a particular global system under which trains were invented.

It's also a priority for a lot of people who find parts of that particular global system appealing for reasons that are entirely understandable. People all over the world do in fact want access to resources not found in their neck of the woods.

And I will be careful here. I agree, for example, that the mass transportation of medicine, for example, is often only necessary because big medical conglomerates are legally prohibiting and violently enforcing their patents.

But it's kind of odd to argue that it's a bad thing that large numbers of people can flee a large natural disaster (say a volcanic outbreak) with the help of fast transportation.

trains are "efficient" within the parameters of that system--that disrupting ecosystems and exploiting immigrant workers are acceptable trade-offs for the value generated by global trade

Trains are not global trade.

Global trade does not, intrinsically, involve exploiting immigrant workers.

"those bad consequences you bring up aren't an inevitable consequence of a connected world."

Are we going to argue that train tracks don't disrupt ecosystems?

"technologies are neutral. politically they don't actually cause people to act."

Depends. If you have a train, you might go looking for work far further away from home than if you didn't have a train. Your family might not see each other much because the availability of the technology (paired with market pressure to get a job) has conditioned you to behave a certain way.

"i don't want borders. you know what makes for a great border? the inability to just fucking physically go somewhere else."

I don't think that's a good way of framing your opponent's ideas, transfemsriseup. Plenty of immigrants cross borders without trains.

Actually, come to think of it, how can technologies not actually cause people to act if without them, people supposedly act differently?

"but what I'm suggesting is that the consideration of whether or not trains are "worth it" has happened within a framework that I don't ascribe to as a communist, a framework of value."

You don't ascribe to value as a communist? Not even use value?

"railway workers don't build railroads because they believe that the railroad will be a good thing for everyone, they build them because they are paid to and without that pay they can't eat or afford a home. and these technologies were invented for similar reasons."

We could apply the same argumentation to paleolithic technology still in use today. Under capitalism, workers don't (generally, unless they happen to be enthusiastic) do anything at work except to get paid so they can eat or afford a home. We can't argue that trains mustn't exist because their construction and operation has some environmental impacts that are imperfect and because the workers who built them weren't free. Might as well argue that people should live without homes, because workers don't freely build homes but do so in order to eat.

Okay, maybe that's not what you're saying. Another thing you might be saying is "just as workers are restricted to certain choices, so too are profit-seeking capitalists restricted and under these restrictions they invented the train".

But I think a similar rebuttal applies. An abandoned military barracks can serve as a makeshift shelter and will not turn people into servants of the military-industrial complex if they take shelter there. Similarly, a train can serve more purposes than the one for which it was built.

"i think if you can understand the idea that maybe car-centric suburbs are terrible & wouldn't exist without the pseudo-needs created by a capitalist society, this shouldn't be much of a jump."

Understanding the argument isn't much of a jump, no. It's just odd to argue against the least intrusive form of adaptive long-distance travel. Trains are less environmentally intrusive than highways, shipping lanes and air travel routes. Yes, people could walk, but if people walk, they can't escape unforeseen disasters or physically connect with family members on the other side of the continent. Then there is no way to supply people with emergency aid or help out with a resource shortage.

"wow, an ML, the supposedly scientific and materialist ideology, saying that material conditions dont affect how people act? and in the defense of consumerism, no less?"

The ML you are mocking mentioned 3 benefits:

Medicine (an essential supply)

Immigrants (freedom to travel)

Food (potentially a consumer good, but also a vital necessity)

How do we conclude that this is a defense of consumerism?

on the topic of trains and the role of technology in ongoing atrocities, i think something to consider if this is shocking to you is that the development of all technology since the start of the industrial revolution (and a lot of it before that tbh) has been dictated by the needs of capital. trains wouldn't exist without the reign of an economic system that demands mass circulation of commodities. the world has not been shaped by what's best for everyone but what's best for perpetuating that economic system. as Debord says about media technology, "it should be understood that this apparatus is in no way neutral and that it has been developed in accordance with the spectacle’s internal dynamics" (The Society of the Spectacle, thesis 24).

[certifiedsexed]

hi, i'm a younger teen (under 15) interested in having sex. i have a partner i feel completely comfortable with, there's no risk of pregnancy, we both know how to/do get tested for STIs and STDs, and have access to any birth control we might want to use. i feel fully ready, but i'm worried i might regret this when i'm older. i think i have a very realistic expectation of sex, i don't feel strongly about virginity, and i feel like i have all the information i need to make the decision, but i've heard horror stories (mostly from strangers, mostly online) about people having sex young and regretting it.

basically, do you have any advice? how old should i be before becoming sexually active?

Hi! Look, Anon, here's the thing: no matter what it is you want to try, you can look it up and find dozens of horror stories from people. The world is vast. That does not mean that thing itself is bad.

Yes, you might regret it later. That doesn't mean you're not going to enjoy it now or that it isn't worth it. If you have a partner you trust, most things that can go wrong, there's a good possibility you can work it out!

You could regret anything, Anon. Don't let that stop you from living your life, especially don't let it stop you from trying something you want to do. Fuck your older self, enjoy yourself and have sex with your partner if you both want to!

There's no specific age you have to reach before having sex. If you feel ready, if you want to, etc, those are good things to think about before having sex but there's no specific age you "should" be before having sex.

I hope this helps, Anon! Let me know if you have anymore questions. <333

[dunmeshistash]

Greetings, Mr. Meshi!

This is perhaps a bit of an unorthodox question, but one that has been bothering me for an unreasonable amount of time.

Now, here's the thing: I OBSESS over Marcille outliving everyone she holds dear. It's a theme very close to me, but even beyond that I just find it to be one of the most interesting elements of Dungeon Meshi's story for me personally. I've written an embarrassing amount of lengthy essays on it that will never see the light of day - that's how obsessed I am over this specific element of her character. But, there's something that bothers me...

A lot of poignant stories and artworks that tackle this topic get comments on 'em whenever Falin is the subject of aging, each one some variation of "Everything points to Falin having an extended lifespan after her revival!" which... Seems weird to me?

I don't know why this bothers me so much, but setting aside my personal annoyances, I don't remember anything pointing to this at all. At least, nothing concrete.

I don't know if this is a question you'd want to answer or not, but since your blog is a hub for all sorts of opinions and headcanons, I'd love to know where this line of thought could originate from.

I really wouldn't blame you if you didn't answer this question, though. Part of me feels I'm just asking this because I want to see if others share in my confusion or not.

Rrrregardless, though! Lemme take the opportunity to say that your blog is delighful. Love it! Also, that mushroom man with the funny face that sometimes responds to you with lengthy essays is also really cool. Everyone is cool. At least here on the northern hemisphere! It is smack dab in the middle of fall, after all! Coolness all around! Stay frosty! Or don't! Maybe warm up at a fireplace. I don't know!

Hi there! Thank you for the kind words, I love reading other's opinions on what I post so I also love the additions by the mushroom <3

It's quite hot over here in northeast Brazil, send some coolness my way please I'm dying.

Your question isn't strange at all! And I don't mind answering anything (unless it's rude or sounds like shipping war bait) so don't worry.

(Decided to put the rest under a readmore, TLDR: Kui said "maybe so, right?" about Falin having a longer lifespan but I have arguments why I don't think this actually confirms it. Anyway if you're someone who likes the headcanon you might want to skip this post)

To be honest those type of comments bother me too because I also LOVE Marcille's struggle with mortality and sometimes "Falin will live much longer!" feels undermining of the lesson she had to learn. I don't mind it in the headcanon sphere where everything is allowed and happy endings grow on trees but when it becomes intertwined with canon it starts to make me a little disappointed.

Just a reminder of the lesson she has to learn

She has to come to terms with the cycle of life and death, that something she wants (everyone to live longer) shouldn't be forced upon others just because it causes her grief. So, to me at least, Falin being made into something that will end up outliving other tallmen would undermine the message? In a canon sense ofc, if you're writing a wish fulfillment story then her living longer would have a different meaning, I just wanna be clear I have nothing against it in that sense, it all depends on what story you're trying to tell.

Anyway, actually answering your question that idea comes from the fact she was fused to a Red Dragon, and the fact her body has been affected by it, her sight was fixed and she grows feathers for example, so people theorize maybe her lifespan has been affected too. But we don't really know how long dragon's live so it's hard to say how much it would have been affected if at all.

It also comes from this answer Kui gave in a QnA

Q: Would Falin have an extended lifespan after the whole chimera thing? A: Maybe so, right?

To me this reads as the usual non-answers Kui gives, like, "I'll leave it up to your imagination" but for other people this read as a confirmation of the headcanon, in another questions she answers "I hope so" about Thistle leading a happy life after having his desires eaten and it's even debatable if Thistle survived at all so I don't think those comments indicate much of canon (I'm that way about most QnA answers tbh, unless it's something inconsequential like confirming Mithrun's Brother's name or stuff about very minor characters)

Another argument I have against her having a different lifespan is Izutsumi, Izu has been mixed with a monster but continues to age at the same rate a Tallmen would, even tho she also has different biology because of the Great Cat she's fused with (ears, reflexes, eyes etc etc) she is still a tallman

Falin isn't really the same thing as Izutsumi tho, I understand, but it's the closest example we have, if we believe the AB descriptions and demi-humans are really mixes between humans and monsters that's also another argument about it not affecting lifespan, since all of them are short lived and have an average lifespan of 55.

All of this *can* be dissmissed tho, the other demi-humans and beastmen are all mixed with mammal monsters and nothing nearly as powerful as a Dragon, so there is arguments to be made that Falin is different and that she *might* have an extended lifespan, all I'm saying is that there's no solid confirmation of it, it's fine to believe it but going around "correcting" other people saying it's a fact wouldn't be right I don't think, especially if you're saying that in a conversation about Marcille journey of death acceptance.

Death is a touchy subject and everyone is at different stages of their own journeys with it so I really don't want to judge those who would rather have Falin or even Laios live longer. I'm not really sure how to talk about this in the proper way, but I hope I didn't make anyone upset!

[changingplumbob]

CW: Moderate sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn tried to be in the moment but it was hard. His mind was racing. Silver was an excellent kisser. The werewolf had said it had been a while but it was obviously like riding a bike. Glenn was quietly proud of being the first one to get close to Silver for so long but he wasn't going to tell him that. Silver might think it meant Glenn liked that he had been alone when the opposite was true. The man he was wrapped around had a good heart, and Glenn wished he hadn't shut himself off from society, from love. But guilt was a tricky thing. He didn't blame Silver for wanting to run away from it all.

*waves* Let me explain for anyone new. My sims have woohoo drives and like to get it on but I know reading that isn't enjoyable for everyone. The text below contains that so if you are only here for the plot, or it makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free to skip the rest of this post. You will not miss anything essential to the plot by not reading it.

Silver: *between kisses* Watcher you do taste good

Glenn: *giggling* Thank you *kisses* I have a whole dental hygiene routine

Silver: I love that you take care of yourself

Glenn: I can take care of you to if you let me

Glenn could feel Silver start to smile. He ran his hand through Silver's hair and attempted to pull him closer. A foolish mission as they were already chest to chest, but he needed him.

Silver: You ready for me to take your pants off now

Glenn: More than, but let me see you to

Silver placed Glenn gently on the bed and bent down to take his shoes off before removing his own.

Glenn: You know, we kind of have matching shoes

Silver: What do you mean

Glenn: Mine are brown and yours are grey- or silver! Get it, because you're Silver

Silver: *chuckling* It's not to late for me to cancel this woohoo you know

Glenn: I was just trying to say I like it. It's like we were in different places but we still got matching shoes. It's cute

Silver: You're cute Babycakes

Silver pulled off Glenn's jeans and boxers slowly. Glenn felt nervous lying back as Silver examined him, and again he got the feeling Silver wanted to eat him up.

Glenn: Can I do you first

Silver: You sure

Glenn: Yeah

Glenn watched intently as Silver removed his remaining clothes far quicker than he'd done for Glenn. Silver then pushed Glenn back on the bed and straddled him.

Silver: Just use your hands

Glenn: But I want to taste-

Silver: If you do a good job I'll feed you some

Glenn blushed and focused on the task in front of him. He was nervous but Silver stroking his chest and face helped him keep calm. In the end, well, he did get a taste.

Silver: Come here

Silver pulled Glenn up and around so the pair were sitting on the edge of the bed. Silver pulled Glenn's face to his and peppered it with kisses making Glenn chuckle.

Glenn: Beefcake, what are you doing

Silver: You'll see but you need to understand... Werewolves are naturally stronger

Glenn: Promises promises

Silver: I'm serious Glenn. If I do anything that is too strong... anything that hurts you, you need to tell me

Glenn: But then you'll stop

Silver: I'll stop what I'm doing because I don't want to hurt you but I'll finish what I start okay? Don't deal with pain just because you think I won't bring you to a finish

Glenn: I promise Silver, I'll tell you if it's too much

Silver: Good, because I can get a little over enthusiastic sometimes

Glenn: Please, I am the most over enthusiastic

Chuckling, Silver leaned over Glenn's lap and got to work caressing him. Glenn had imagined what it would be like but it was better.

Glenn: Oh, um-

Silver: Too rough?

Glenn: No your hands are perfect I just... So for a potion of plentiful needs you need some pleasure and that's harvested when someone orgasms. Henri gave me some empty vials for it. Would you mind if when I do finish I channel some of that pleasure to be used?

Silver: Do you need like the physical-

Glenn: No, no no. No body fluids required. I just didn't want to do it without asking

Silver smirked and got off the bed to kneel in front of Glenn.

Silver: I don't mind that. Do you mind this?

Glenn: Mind what? You're not doing-

Silver kissed the inside of his thigh and Glenn twitched.

Glenn: I don't mind that

Silver: Uh huh, and this

And so Silver continued to tease Glenn, a kiss here, a soft bite there, until Glenn couldn't stand anymore and begged Silver to finish him off. As Silver enveloped him and his tongue joined in with his hands Glenn struggled to recall the spell for channeling the pleasure, unable to focus on much more than the sensations he was feeling.

When he finished and curled around Silver's head some brain function came back to him. He kissed Silver's back and looked up to watch one of the vials on his shelf fill up with the telltale pink contents. Rather than dissipate in to nothing the pleasure was being stored.

Silver: I was right, you do taste good

Glenn: And you give amazing head

Silver: What can I say, it's my centuries of experience Babycakes

Previous ... Next

[a-dragons-journal]

With all the gentleness in my heart, and I hope I don't scare you off with a long answer because I promise I'm not trying to lecture you: you are making a huge generalization equating a vast swathe of furries, therians, kinksters, and hell, even non-offending zoophiles with bestialists, which is untrue and unfair to all of those people. With that phrasing (in a context where we're talking about artificial things), you include people who think anthropomorphic animal characters are hot (and may or may not create and/or consume porn of them), people who use animal-shaped sex toys, people with species dysphoria that includes genital dysphoria, people who fantasize about wolf dick or whatever but would never touch a real animal, and probably a good few more but you get the idea. None of these people are hurting anyone or anything. The vast, vast majority of them will never touch a real animal in a sexual way in their life. They are not the people you're afraid of.

I get where you're coming from here, I really do. Bestiality is a deeply horrifying thing, and it's hard sometimes to not knee-jerk react when something resembles it at first glance. And hell, you can think any of the above is gross and weird if you want! That's your right! But gross and weird don't mean harmful. It does feel strange, that's completely fair - but stop and think about that, really chew on that feeling, before you decide that means it's a bad thing.

Again, to put it a little more seriously: stop and look your disgust in the eye and ask it, why do I care about this? Is it actually dangerous, or is my survival instinct misfiring here? (Because that's fairly common - pattern recognition sometimes sees patterns that aren't there, and it's safer to alert on something that isn't really dangerous than to not alert on something that is! It's a natural thing that we all have to keep an eye on.) Is anyone (or any animal) actually getting hurt here, and if so, who and how, and is that actually inherent to the thing or is it a specific use-case where things have gone wrong?

(Hint: If your initial answer is "yes, this is harmful," but you can't explain who's getting hurt exactly and how, then it may not actually be harmful, your survival instinct may be misfiring. Stop and dig deeper. Is it harmful or is it just gross?)

As a side note: if someone wants a packer shaped like a human penis, do you assume that they find that sexually appealing on other people? If no, why is it different when it's a different packer shape? Why are you jumping to the conclusion that it's a sex thing the minute it gets a little weird, and might that jump be partially fed by internalized things society thinks about being trans being a sex thing in general? (These are genuine questions, but you don't have to answer them to me unless you want to; you can answer them to yourself privately, that's fine. I'm asking to get you thinking and dissecting your own logic a bit, that's all.)

why is there discourse now about nonhuman packers. genuinely, 100% genuinely with my whole heart: grow up. have a little fun with life. what are you afraid of? who cares if the shape someone stuffs their pants with isn't a photorealistic model of a human dick? literally why does it matter to you? who exactly is getting hurt by this? why is it any of your business what is in someone's pants? stop and look your disgust in the eye and ask it why the fuck it cares about this. you too could have something fun and artistic and maybe even species affirming in your pants if it so suits you. you have nothing to lose but your chains. be free my brethren