#this got a little longer than I intended

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine sneaking around with your Captain...

Imagine sneaking around with your Captain, Shanks. You think the crew doesn't know and would like to keep it that way for a while, partly because you don't want to hear the guys teasing, partly due to your doubts about the nature of your relationship and the redhead's feelings for you.

Meanwhile, the crew keeps snickering as you and their captain can't keep your eyes off each other throughout the day. They keep their mostly silent amusement to themselves for a time. And it goes on for quite a while before an innocently joking comment has your captain replying something in an unusually irritated tone that ends with calling you his.

His surly mood is gone in an instant as the guys raise a cup to the two of you, some of them even commenting that it was about damn time. They are all laughter and cheers after that, especially when Shanks suddenly throws you over his shoulder and takes you to his cabin to show you that you are, in fact, his because after seeing your stunned reaction and disbelief of his claim, you need some... convincing.

[ekingston]

I was gonna be cheeky and ask for 10 and 19 again BUT I shall resist that urge… for now.

I will be sneaky (critical failure) and ask for three (I lied) 28. 30. And 37.

And what the hell, everyone should be proud of their work/s so a 33. (Feel free to pick a couple if this is just asking for a lot - I feel like it is 😅)

I feel like I’m order takeout or reading lotto number here

haha thank you! and the bonus number is…

Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

today i’m reminding myself to practice mindfulness! and not in the sense of breathing exercises or lengthy meditation sessions (although I’m sure those have their benefits too) but by making myself be in the present, paying attention to all of my senses, and remembering that my characters would do the same. you’ll need that material to fill in the little details that draw the reader into your work, that tricky thing that makes them feel like they can’t just see it, but like they’re actually there. life is a sensual experience, and i think our stories should reflect that!

Describe a fic that almost happened, but then didn’t.

this got long, so…

i once scribbled down a dream i had that was a sort of trippy time travel/repeating day type of thing, where Lena was part of a small crew of criminals that used Lena’s tech to travel back in time to aid them with their heists. they would simply rewind time over and over, taking note of the details, learning every possible outcome, eliminating obstacles along the way, practicing the motions often enough to nail the final, perfect execution.

the first scene was a very bloody one, and i came in right in the middle of it, not understanding how Lena and her people could be so callous about the people laying bleeding and dying at their feet, especially because Kara was one of them. Lena’s crew just kept saying they’d ‘fix that next time’, like some sort of cryptic mantra.

in the dream Lena ended up looking for Kara in every run through, charming her in a thousand different ways, always the same, Kara falling for her every time. there were a few rewinds that took her back so far that Kara was still a child, immediately smitten but completely lost on earth, abandoned and alone, and Lena lobbied hard to make sure her crew fixed that, too, even when it meant Lena would never meet her again.

i saw Lena’s crew running down a dark alley over and over again, at least one of their crew dead or dying, at least one other gravely hurt. Kara turned out to be the reason their plan failed every single time. Lena ended up having to turn against her team to save her before they could eliminate her from their timeline completely.

in the end Lena lay dying in child-Kara’s arms, telling her ‘we’ll fix it next time.’ this was when she’d finally discovered Kara wasn’t human. the line i woke up with was Lena telling Kara to promise her, ‘if you figure it out someday—fly up’. the theory being, i think, that if Kara somehow were to fly high enough, fast enough, she’d achieve the same effect Lena did with her tech, and Kara could go back to save Lena instead.

my dreams get pretty elaborate, but they rarely come with as tidy of a plot as this one did, so i bet it already exists somewhere.

Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you?

i don’t feel i write the kind of stuff that requires a lot of research and that’s probably a good thing! because i will go down absolutely every rabbit hole the internet has to offer when i do and zero writing will get done. my longform WIP TFOT has been brewing since—let me check—December 11, 2022 (thanks @mooosicaldreamz) and i’ve written less than 20k words, including my outline. instead i have spent my time working on it ‘studying’ veterinary medicine, learning about sustainable agriculture, planning trips to Wyoming and wondering alongside Paula Cole where all the cowboys have gone.

Give your writing a compliment.

i can’t tell you how happy it makes me when people tell me i managed to write something that made them laugh out loud. several times even! sometimes waking up their loved ones or startling strangers! i love that so much.

[sematarygirls]

okay but sonny showing you off infront of the squad and making Amanda jelly because he’s sooooo in love with you

need tbh, omg 🤭

                   ౨ৎ

he would be so excited to introduce you to the squad. you two had only been dating for a couple of weeks, but he talked nonstop about you. they thought he rambled enough before he met you, but after? my god, they wanted to throttle him.

he'd want to do it in a casual setting when the whole team was relaxed and not worrying about cases, so when amanda proposed that they all go out for drinks, he saw the perfect opportunity.

he asked, of course, if he could invite you. he didn't want you to just show up and have it be awkward. they all agreed, though, of course. they wanted to see who had been able to make him so happy recently (also, they weren't even entirely sure that you weren't just a figment of his imagination).

amanda had been oddly quiet when he brought up inviting you, plastering a tight smile on her face and nodding.

"of course," she said, something unreadable in her tone.

normally, sonny would have immediately picked up on her shift in demeanor. he was her, self-proclaimed, best friend after all, but he was just so excited to finally introduce you to these people that he had grown to consider his second family.

he shot you a quick text, asking if you were available to meet them at the bar, and thankfully, you were. although you would probably drop anything you were doing if he asked you to anyway.

his fingers drummed on the bar impatiently as he waited for you. he kept glancing over at the door, willing you to walk through it.

"look at him; he's like a lovesick puppy," fin teased him, noticing that he was more interested in the front door than the conversation going on.

"leave the poor boy alone, fin," olivia scolded him playfully. sonny rolled his eyes at their teasing, not paying it any mind.

"oh, here she is," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. he practically jumped out of his seat to greet you at the door.

"hey," you laughed, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as he appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere.

"we're right over here," he said, a big, goofy grin on his face. he rested his hand on your lower back, leading you over to the squad. "everyone, this is my girlfriend," he introduced you.

you smiled, giving a little wave as you said hello and told them your name. "it's so nice to finally meet you all. sonny has told me all about you."

"he has, has he?" olivia grinned, raising an eyebrow. sonny smiled nervously, blushing as he rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn't secured around your waist.

"likewise," fin nodded, giving you a warm smile. "i was beginning to think carisi here was making you up."

"nope, definitely real," you laughed nervously. everyone fell silent for a moment, an awkward tension settling. you tried not to take it too personally. you were a stranger, and they were like family. it was natural for there to be some awkwardness. sonny cleared his throat, deciding to break the awkward silence.

"here, take my seat," he insisted, ushering you to the barstool.

"thank you," you smiled brightly, your heart fluttering at your boyfriend's kindness. you didn't think there'd ever be a time when he didn't make your heart race.

"chivalry isn't dead after all," fin joked as you took a seat.

"yeah, yeah," sonny rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. he was used to fin's little remarks by now. he stood behind you, one hand on your waist and the other holding his beer. he was so close that if you leaned back a little, you'd probably press against him. it made a blush rise to your cheeks.

"amanda, right?" you asked, turning your attention to the blonde sitting next to you. she'd been awfully quiet, eyeing you warily. you knew how close sonny was with her, so it was important to you that she liked you.

"yup, that's me," she says, her tone uninterested. she flashes a smile your way, one that doesn't quite meet her eyes.

your brows furrowed slightly. you got the impression that she didn't like you, and you couldn't possibly think of a reason why that may be. you'd only been here for five minutes tops. how had you already done something to put you out of her good graces?

you didn't have long to dwell on this fact, however, because fin's voice cut through your thoughts, making you turn to face him. he began telling some story about his ex-wife that had you smiling and laughing along with him.

fin was so enigmatic. it was almost impossible not to be sucked into whatever he was saying, just by the way that he was saying it.

the rest of the night was a blur of drinks and stories. in the couple hours you were with the squad, you'd learned all about their job and all the embarrassing things sonny had done at one point or another.

he kept on hand on or around you at all times, staying close. so close that you could almost feel the rumble of his laugh. he smiled and doted on you all night long, making you blush. he was so in love with you, and he didn't even try to hide it.

amanda stayed relatively quiet throughout the night, and you could practically feel her burning gaze as she stared at you. she didn't seem anything like what sonny had told you about her, but again, you tried not to take it personally. you were sure she was probably lovely once you got to know her.

really, though, amanda was jealous. she hated how nice you were because it made it hard to hate you (hard, not impossible). she tried to be cordial enough and not show her dislike for you, but to be honest, her poker face wasn't all that great.

she was happy at first when she'd heard him talking about you two, but seeing you two together stirred something inside her that she'd rather not admit.

[slimeyslimeyballsack]

Theo believing he's only good for causing pain and that he's incapable of being gentle, of receiving gentleness.

Theo believing he breaks everything he touches and he shouldn't be allowed to touch precious items. Liam being a precious item. The pack being a precious item.

Theo believing he's an attack dog on a leash, only being kept around for his use in a fight. Only so long as he is useful, so long as he's not a burden, so long as he's perfect.

Theo doing anything Liam asks of him. His inability to say no, to lie to him. Despite his attempts to keep his guard up the way he does with everyone else.

Theo believing he's irredeemable, evil, a monster, barely even human. Believing everyone feels this way about him. Liam feels this way.

Theo doesn't know what love feels like. There's an instinct in him, though. To protect Liam. In any way he can. To let nothing bad ever happen to him again. Even Theo.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Imagine Obanai, before becoming a Hashira, getting accused of murder after being caught by some police when he still had his katana out. Some demon had been killing frequently in the village, the same demon Obanai had just killed, but since it had disappeared, inevitably the police figured Obanai was some cannibal or something. They arrested him, putting him in a jail cell unless he was proven innocent.

When he was thrown in, Obanai began panicking. Which was normal, of course. Because this (so-called)criminal had just been caught and incarcerated! There was no worry of his sporadic breathing. Except—

Except now he was clawing at the bars and hyperventilating to the point he seemed unable to breath, tears streaking down his cheeks and staining that peculiar mask of his. One of the police—a woman—walked towards him, concerned.

One of the other police warned her to leave because, despite the fact that they had taken his sword, he could still be very dangerous. But she assured him that this was only a child, that there was no way he could do anything; he was scared, she needed to console him so he could calm down and answer their questions. And so she knelt by the cell, not quite in arm rage of Obanai if he thought to reach out. But instead, he did the opposite, recoiling at her presence. A small whimper escaped him and he curled up in a ball, a hand reaching up and clawing at his mask subconsciously, an overwhelming amount of terror written in his eyes.

“No…” Obanai whispered. His voice was raspy, scratching against the walls. The diminutive word was small but seemed to hold so much emotion that the police approaching him physically stumbled back, worry rising.

“It’s okay… We just need to talk to you,” she murmured, trying on a gentle tone. She had been amongst the ones who didn’t believe he had done anything. After all, there were no traces of blood on his katana. He could’ve wiped it, of course, but then why had he been holding it out in such a stance? “It’s… It’s safe here.”

The words had the opposite effect intended; Obanai scampered back, pressing against the far wall. He shook his head quickly, his hair spinning around him, covering his bicolored eyes. He was shaking, and a quiet sob wrecked his body. He could barely breathe now, memories returning in flashes and overwhelming him. He was stiff, gasping pleads muffled by his bandages. He was sorry, he was sorry, he promised not to run away again, he promised, he would stay, he would stay, he would—

But then he was in familiar arms, a Demon Slayer he’d worked with recently carrying him. They were outside, the sky bright and blue and the air blissfully fresh and cool. The Demon Slayer glanced down, his eyebrows furrowed in concern but relaxing slightly when he noticed that Obanai had awoken.

“It’s okay. I got you out. The Master is taking care of everything, I think,” he reassured him. Slowly, carefully, he set Obanai down, helping him sit. “Maybe we shouldn’t go into cities too often, hm?” he remarked, a tired sort of amusement quirking his lips.

Obanai nodded numbly. He was outside. He was safe.

The Demon Slayer sat beside him, resting a comforting hand on his back. “It’s okay,” he repeated quietly. “You’re okay.”

He was okay.

[tranakin-skywalker]

*sits down n snatches a french fry off ur plate* tell me more about groundwater

Ok so, consider this:

You're Darth Vader. You've just saved the life of your son on the Death Star pt II Electric Boogaloo, and have died from electricity induced heart failure/your shitty body finally giving out on you.

You expect to become one with the Force if you're lucky- maybe find yourself in some sort of Hell if you're not.

Instead you find yourself standing over a woman who looks painfully familiar but you can't place- holding a baby who won't stop staring at you. The baby too seems strangly familiar and for one heart-stopping moment you think Luke!

Then you look closer, and realize the woman is your mother- younger than you've ever remembered her. And that means the baby must be...

Then you realize that you don't have a body anymore. Not really. You're burning without heat in a blue fire that doesn't catch- nova bright and yet the only living thing around you that seems able to see you is the infant version of the person you used to be.

You try to flee, and realize you can't. You don't even make it out of the building before something stops you from moving, and you realize you're bound to this boy and his mother, and that this might be Hell after all.

Or

You're Anakin, and all your life you've been followed by this strange spirit. Sometimes it looks like a man, sometimes it looks like an animal, sometimes it's a suit of armor or a burning corspe or an imploding star or a black hole.

All you know is that it's angry, and also very very sad. You wonder why it's trapped here, if maybe it's cursed, or maybe it just can't move on.

You're the only one who can see it.

It doesn't talk- sometimes doesn't even look like it's aware of where it is. But it follows you. And it protects you and your mother.

Other people might not be able to see it, but they can feel it. And it keeps the worst of them away from you and your mother.

Then the Jedi come and take you away. You hope that the spirit will stay on Tatooine and protect your mother, but it follows you instead. It's never spoken to you (or if it has, you've never been able to understand it), but you think it wishes it could stay with her too.

None of the Jedi can see the spirit either, but it can see them. You don't think it likes the Jedi very much.

It's with you as you learn how to be a Jedi, and you realize that some of the things the Jedi teach you, you already knew. Obi-Wan tells you you're a natural with a training saber, and you don't tell him it's because you feel like you've already learned all this before.

You're spirit hates Chancellor Palpatine, and that makes you nervous.

You're fourteen when the dreams start. They're hazy, and hard to explain, but they wake you up in a cold sweat and leave you with a feeling of impending doom. Something bad is going to happen. You don't know what.

You tell Obi-Wan about them, but the advice he gives you is useless.

The dreams get worse.

You start seeing your mother in them. You see her die in your arms.

You beg Obi-Wan for the chance to go see her, to make sure she's alright. He tells you it's a lot more complicated than just hopping in a ahip and going to Tatooine. That they can't just run off without authorization. That he’s sure your mother is fine.

That night you wake up to the spirit crouched over you in your bed, a face half melted off with bones and wires poking through the char, a living funeral pye with a mouth made of void.

"Your mother is going to die" it tells you, and you believe it.

You take the saber you built with your own hands and cut off your padawan braid, leave it with a note for Obi-Wan to find. You steal a ship, and set coordinates for Tatooine.

You're going to save your mother.

Or

You are Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you woke up one morning to find your entire world has ended. There is a note on the kitchen counter, and beside it, a burnt, braided lock of hair. You already know what the note is going to say. You have to read it three times anyway.

You chase after your padawan, because if anything happens to him, you will never forgive yourself. You can't leave immediately, you're not allowed to. There’s process, and procedure, and though the Council is understanding, they won't let you just go gallivanting off to the outer rim. (Like your padawan did, you hear in the pointed silences). They assure you that Anakin is smart and resourcful and that you have trained him well, that he'll be fine.

You want to scream at them.

When you do finally leave, it is far far later than you would have liked, but you have a place to start looking at least. Tatooine. Mos Espa. A junk dealer named Watto.

It takes you much too long to find the shop, and seeing it for the first time, it hits you- this is the place your padawan grew up. This is where he was owned. Then you meet Watto, the one who owned him.

You ask about Shmi Skywalker, and Watto tells you that he sold her. He refuses to tell you who he sold her to. You ask him about Anakin, and he squints his eyes at you, and tells you he hasn't seen the boy since he lost him in a bet five years ago. In the Force, you can't tell if he’s lying or telling the truth.

You spend almost a month on Tatooine, looking for your padawan. You never find him.

Eventually, you are forced to return to the Temple, though you tell yourself it is only temporary. You're never going to stop looking.

And you don't. Every chance you get, you are searching for Anakin. All your friends too, when out on missions, keep their eyes out. None of you ever find anything.

Then, two years after your padawan disapeared in the night- you feel your bond to Anakin snap.

It is the most painful thing you have felt in your life. You realize, one heartbreak at a time, what that means.

You stop looking after that.

Then-

Footage is released of an uprising on Tatooine. Jabba the Hutt is dead. His executioner is a Sith.

You realize who killed Anakin.

You want to be one of the Jedi sent to Tatooine to investigate. You killed a Sith before, after all, you can do it again. The Council does not allow you to go. They send Quinlan and Aayla instead.

Before he leaves, Quin makes a promise to you. "I'll find out what happened to him."

While they are gone, more planets revolt, more footage leaks. You see that Sith, in that horrible, monsterous mask, that red blade. You see other masked beings, with their own blades. Colors you have never seen on a lightsaber before.

The Outer Rim is buckling, or maybe- it is transforming. Nal Hutta is razed, and slave worlds are liberated. There are reports of a fleet, and army. Every day it grows bigger. Like a spreading infection.

(Or maybe, you think- remembering that junk shop and things like ownership- maybe it’s something like hope.)

There are planets talking of seceding, of forming their own government. That talk has been going for years now, but something about this, about the unrest in the Outer Rim has made it a roar.

There is talk of war.

And all the while, more and more planets in the Rim go dark. The Freed Worlds, they call themselves, who want nothing to do with the Republic or this new Confederacy. The Republic and the Confederacy both feel threatened by them all the same.

Quinlan and Aayla and the other Jedi sent out return. They find very little, if anything at all. "We weren't allowed to get close. They didn't trust us. Any of us," Quin explains. "Somehow they knew."

The Republic reaches out to the Freed Worlds for a peace talk. They don't want a war on two fronts. Only, you think, some of them do.

The Freed Worlds agree, tenatively, but they agree, and send representatives to Coruscant. They don't seem aware that their arrival coincides with a vote on whether or not the Republic will form in army.

You are there when the representatives arrive at the Senate Dome, a bizarre collection of species and ages and appearances, none of them looking anything like the senators you know. They follow behind a young man, too young you think. Then you get a closer look at him, and your world ends and begins all over again.

"Anakin?"

[dragonologist-phd]

No pressure but I'd love to get into Greybor's head: ↻FLIP FLOP for chapter 2 of Between Light and Shadow

Between Light And Shadow

ooh thank you! Greybor's head is a tough one lol but it's fun to dig in there!

fic ask game

Greybor had thought he’d had the Commander figured out.

She really didn’t seem like much of a puzzle at first- just the model of a noble Crusader, giving speeches about bravery and justice and sacred duty. The powers she wielded were unique, certainly, but at the heart of it she was essentially a paladin like any other. She just a little extra kick to her magic.

Some may disagree on that, but truth be told the technicalities didn’t interest Greybor much. What mattered to him was that she paid what he was worth, and she was far too concerned with honor to renege on any contract.

And that was that.

Or- it was supposed to be. With all that said, Greybor hadn’t accounted on actually liking the woman.

He tells her as much when they’re stuck in the storm together, and he can tell it pleases her. She leans forward, her gleaming brown eyes taking him in not with scorn but with equivalent interest.

“Just don’t tell Seelah I’m going so easy on you,” she says with a conspiring grin, and Greybor can’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, don’t worry Commander. Your secrets are safe with me.”

The gleam in her eyes brightens. “Good to know.”

Damn it all- it’s not just her personality Greybor is intrigued by, he has to admit that. She’s a fetching woman, even half-soaked from the rain as she is now. Not the sort Greybor would ever get tangled with…but when she grins at him like that, like she might actually have some secrets worth keeping, he has to admit that he’s tempted.

When they get back to Drezen, Greybor invites Maebrys to join him for a drink. Just a drink, he tells himself, although even just a drink is already going beyond the usual rules he’s set for himself when it comes to employers. Still. It’s just a drink.

And that’s where he goes wrong.

“I’d rather just skip the drink,” Maebrys says, without fuss, “and head straight to the bedroom.”

Greybor’s not used to being taken off guard, but that does it. His thoughts clamor against each other- best to turn her down gracefully; it won’t do to alienate or offend the person who hired him. But then, he also needs to be firm, to make his stance clear and not lead her on with false hope.

The course of action would be much clearer, of course, were there not such a significant part of himself that was more than eager to take her up on the offer.

But he can’t. He shouldn’t. For a multitude of reasons.

He tells her as much. It doesn’t go well, but it doesn’t go nearly as badly as it could, because this is Maebrys and she’s nothing if not upstanding. That quirk of hers is a stroke of fortune, though it makes Greybor question once again why she would have any kind of interest in an assassin like him.

And it means that Greybor is surprised into silence yet again when, as she turns to leave, Maebrys turns back long enough to say, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. And if it really is your professional reputation that you’re worried about...just know that you’re not the only one who can keep secrets.”

That should be the end of it. But Greybor has a long, long night ahead of him as those words echo in his head.

[cardentist]

Context: [Link] (highly recommend reading even if it’s long) I debated where I should put this, but with the length of this post I want to put @nothorses master post about transandrophobia right at the top [Link] if this post is too lengthy for you or you'd like to read more after chewing on this then I Implore you to open that link and hold onto it.

I don't want to call out this person in particular, I'm certain they don't mean any harm by it and it's not within our best interests to pick fights with people who have (in this commenter's words) Nearly all of the same beliefs with some minor squabbles who are willing to support each other anyways.

but it's exactly Because I'm certain this person means well that frustrates me.

years ago I would've said something along the lines of "this is no different from saying 'I'm not homophobic because I'm not afraid of gay people.'" that it's nitpicking Accurate terminology by breaking it into pieces and judging the words its made up of individually when they're obviously intended to be seen as a whole. trans Men face oppression for being trans Men in a way that cis men do not, just like trans Women face oppression for being trans Women in a way that cis women do not.

but that was a long time ago, the perspective has changed.

"trans men can't have this term because it's too close to affirming cishet white men when they say that they're oppressed for being men" was a talking point back when "transmisandry" was the terminology that was landed on. and while my thought process about that was the same I Understood the kneejerk reaction. because there Was a concerted effort by certain cishet weirdos to make "misandry" a term that made them systematically oppressed by women, and more specifically was used to Deny the existence of misogyny (very ironically from how they acted).

(that said, I have my own reasons for liking that term even if I do see the problems with it, I understand why it was chosen at the time. which I get into here [Link])

"transandrophobia" was coined Specifically to avoid that connotation, to Denounce the association and address that frankly (on the surface) Reasonable kneejerk reaction while still being recognizable and serving the same purpose.

but the talking point about it remained Exactly The Same, completely unchanged despite the change in association. because the point was never About it evoking something unpleasant (though that certainly helped with swaying bystanders in the conversation) it was about the absolute refusal to believe in the concept of people being hated For their manhood. in masculinity intersecting with oppression More than just as a neutral trait.

now, what I'm Not going to say is that the concept of androphobia is a systemic oppression that's upheld by the majority or any governmental body. not mine and certainly not any that I've heard of. but I will Also say that conflating the Recognition of a sentiment that real people express With systemic oppression is not only unhelpful (there's a lot of things that aren't systemic but still matter) but has Also been used to gate keep minorities by exclusionist groups Plenty of times before.

such as when people stopped being able to insist that asexuals don't experience trauma for being asexual At All and instead insisted that it wasn't Systematic and therefore they didn't belong in the queer community. no amount of studies, no amount of personal accounts, no examining of actual law and actual acts of oppression from governing bodies or places of work would sway them. because as long as they could say "It's Not Systemic" they could dismiss it out of hand. when, really, even if they were right it shouldn't matter. if someone experiences trauma they deserve to have the source of that trauma taken seriously no matter the underlying cause. they shouldn't have to Prove that it's important enough to justify caring about.

but to get to my point 9 paragraphs in from where we started, the idea that anti-masculinity or androphobia or anti-man sentiment or Whatever you want to call it Doesn't Exist is pretty ridiculous coming from within the trans community for Several Reasons.

terfs hate trans women because they're transphobic, but they Also hate trans women because they're radfems. a core tenant of radfem ideology Is The Demonization Of Men And Of Masculinity. they think trans women are dangerous Because They See Them As Men Trying To Infiltrate Women's Spaces. and Yes that is obviously transphobia, but the way they talk about trans women is Not magically disconnected from their view of manhood or masculinity or Men As A Group. though Undoubtedly they will side with cis men if it gives them the opportunity to attack trans women, in part because it Is that intersection of Both anti-man sentiments And transphobia And misogyny that has them frothing at the mouth to hate trans women.

(see this: [Link] for a more in depth discussion on radfem ideology as a whole)

and the thing is, someone might be tempted to say "well their hatred of masculinity is Obviously tied to trans women, so there's no point in acknowledging it as anything But transmisogyny." and in fact, that's not a hypothetical at all, it's the default relationship people have with this concept.

but this mindset affects everyone, Especially otherwise marginalized groups.

radfems seeing men as Inherently And Biologically Violent, as rapists and unthinking monsters, Absolutely And Undeniably affects how they treat people of color (Especially black people). white women stalking black men and calling the cops on them because they see their existence as Dangerous has been a Thing for as long as cops have existed (it's the Reason that cops exist) and has been Documented as a current issue in the wake of black lives matter and the murder of black men by the cops. it is an attempt from white women to have black men murdered, to cause violence to them without having to physically implicate themselves, all while using the perception of themselves as inherent victims (small and docile and innocent) with the perception of black men as monsters.

and it Should go without saying, but this Obviously Is Not Saying that black men inherently have it worse than black women. recognizing the oppression of one demographic within an oppressed group Should Not Inherently Mean pitting them against other demographics within that same group. we should just be allowed to point out an experience that some people can have and let that be a neutral (if important) statement. the things black women go through because of Their intersection of racism and misogyny are well and truly Horrific, I certainly don't need to prove that.

and In Fact, black women are victims of that Same intersection of racism and androphobia that we see both from terfs and from white people everywhere. because "womanhood" Almost Without Question means "White womanhood," to have black traits (or to have Non-White traits) is to be closer to masculinity in the eyes of racists.

when terfs post a picture of a cis woman and harass and mock them for Clearly being a trans woman who will Never fool anybody it's universally because the woman in the picture has traits that aren't traditionally upheld as the standard for white women. it's misogyny, it's androphobia, it's transphobia, it's racism. because these ideas Aren't Inherently Separate. they Build on each other and they affect Everybody, because people who think this way don't just turn it on and off like a switch when they're attacking the "intended" target.

and All of these ideas come together and inform the situation with trans men, both on this issue specifically and As A Whole.

just the same as we see that intersection of transphobia and misogyny and androphobia with how trans women are treated (combined, of course, with other relevant aspects of an individual) we see much the same with trans men.

the difference is that people inherently Recognize that what's happening to trans women is more than Just ideas of transphobia (more than Just wanting people to stay the gender that they were assigned at birth), but they recognize Only the misogyny aspect. so when the same conversation is turned onto trans men people don't know what to do with it, Especially when combined with the (unfortunately common) denial that trans men experience Misogyny either.

that complex web of interlocking concepts, and in some cases the Idea Of intersectionality At All, are Denied to trans men. who are then minimized For the perceived lack in complexity (in their oppression, in their identities, and in their lived experiences).

"why not just call it anti-transmasc sentiment then? people might take it more seriously." even Ignoring Everything I've mentioned so far, the Reason I'm not happy with this is because trans men Are attacked (harassed, oppressed, however you want to phrase it) Specifically For Their Identities As Men. and as much as I Also want to establish that behavior and sentiment As stemming from transphobia, I Also don't think we benefit by erasing or softening that idea to make it more palatable to people who don't want to believe it.

this was a response I got to that post I linked at the very top of this essay. I trust that anyone reaching this point has an idea of how silly this is in context, if they haven't read that context themselves. and in fact I wasn't going to acknowledge it at all (I only have this image on hand because I took it to have a laugh with friends). but it's a Convenient and Simple illustration of this exact issue.

the hatred of trans men in trans, queer, and activist spaces is informed and Justified by the hatred of men as a whole. because If you can convince people that trans men are Inherently a privileged group you can justify presenting anything they do as attacking those less privileged than them.

Men are violent, Men shout down women, Men are misogynists, and so a trans man pointing out the existence of his own oppression while actively acknowledging the oppression of nonbinary people and trans women (Only making the point that it's unhelpful to try to quantify this oppression as a tier list and use that to inform how you treat individual people) that trans man is Actually just a Typical Violent Man Exerting His Privilege To Oppress Poor Women.

it's, very ironically, a silencing tactic to avoid addressing the oppression of a minority group to the benefit of the person doing it.

a trans man's manhood is a weapon that is Constantly used against him, and I Might (Might) be willing to call that "anti-trans masc sentiment" if I didn't know where it Stemmed from.

the relationship between radfems and the queer community is, to understate it, Fraught.

for most people who consider themselves to be trans allies, it's Easy to see that terfs are, you know, Bad. to understand that they're a transphobic group and Therefore dangerous. but by-and-large that'd Main and Only thing that that's understood about them.

and to an extent, that's because people believe that that understanding is Enough. that it's Enough to dismiss it out of hand and refuse to look at or Think about what terfs have to say. which is Understandable.

the issue is that no matter how much they Believe that terfs are bad and wrong, they're Still Vulnerable to being influenced by radfem ideology, talking points, and Active Intentional Manipulation if they don't actually know the Details of what it is they believe and how to spot them.

as a Very basic example, people who Believe "terfs are bad because they hate trans people" but Don't understand "radfems are bad because equate men and masculinity as being Inherent Violent and therefore inherently harmful to women" can see something like "men don't belong in women's spaces" and Not Understand that something they may be genuinely trying to consider or understand Is Radfem Rhetoric.

that specific example is, at this point, commonly understood as a terf dog whistle. but it's largely Only understood as a stand in for trans women and called out as transmisogyny.

which is a problem when, say, someone looks at a trans man talking about his experiences is oppression and trauma and says "this Man is shouting down women! this Man is being misogynistic and stealing spaces away from women! this Man doesn't Belong!" and Not Understand That It's The Same Idea. Because the person being targeted Isn't being misgendered (Most of the time), the exact Same silencing and othering tactic is used Effective against trans mascs while not being Recognized as that At All by the majority group.

sometimes these things happen because people passively absorb radfem rhetoric, integrate into their own way of thinking, and then use it against other minority groups without understanding what they're doing. sometimes this is done Very Intentionally by terfs trying to spread their own ideology and break up and cause rifts between groups.

this is not a hypothetical, this is Repeating History that we see over and over again with exclusionists in queer spaces. masterposts at the time had Dedicated Segments talking about the ways these groups shared ideas between each other, between radfems, even when the individuals Don't hate the same people [Link 1, Link 2]

there were Documented Instances of terfs Admitting that they had secret aphobe accounts that they were using to try to indoctrinate ace and aro exclusionists into their beliefs. there's documented instances of terfs admitting that they got to that point By Being indoctrinated through ace and aro exclusionist beliefs and talking points. we had terfs Openly comparing their ideologies to exclusionists Explicitly to recruit them. [Link 1, Link 2, Link 3, Link 4, Link 5]

Because if you're Willing to accept that these ideas Are True, that the Logic that terf ideology is based on is Sound, then you're More Likely to accept when that same logic is pointed at another group. they target people that you're more willing to hate to pull you into their beliefs entirely.

and some people will go on never hating trans people (or never hating trans Women or trans Men or Nonbinary People or Binary Trans People, whatever the particular poison they're drinking), but it doesn't suddenly become Okay when radfem ideology is being used to hurt groups that aren't common sense associated with it.

what's more, these exclusionists groups Hated when you pointed out that connection. would spit and yell and call you bigoted for Daring to make the connection, even when (at it's peak and Most Ridiculous) they were quite literally taking posts originally written by terfs and replacing "trans women" with "ace people." Word For Word. which means it Never got addressed, no matter who pointed it out or how obviously wide spread it was.

and it's Tiring to have to say "if you can't care about how this affects trans men then at Least consider how perpetuating this idea puts trans women in danger" But It's True.

if you let people perpetuate the idea that trans men are Violent, that they're Oppressive, that they don't Deserve to have their own spaces, that they Inherently talk over and erase other oppressed groups by talking about their own issues and asking for compassion, if you Let people say "this group of trans people is Inherently Lesser" Because They Are Men, Because Of Their Closeness To Masculinity, Because Testosterone Or Maleness Is Inherently Corrupting

the jump between Which trans group you think of this way is not as difficult as one would hope. and if we're Never able to address it for what it is, address it As radfem driven androphobia And transphobia And exclusionism then we're going to Keep creating spaces where people are vulnerable to indoctrination. to radfems, to terfs, to exclusionists, to Extremist Reactionary groups of all kinds.

and beyond all of That, as alarming and Important as it may be, it's Also worth noting that radfems (and even Terfs Specifically) Do use androphobia against trans men, even as they force feminine labels on them.

Yes there are the obvious direction that terf oppression of trans men takes. treating them like confused women and trying to indoctrinate and detransition them to Save them or Fix them (which, in itself, is a type of violence). and there's the Resentment of "the frigid uncaring woman trying to identify out of her oppression to instead oppress other women," which isn't a sentiment totally Removed from the issue with how trans mascs can be treated in queer spaces (quite the opposite really, punishing trans men for daring to Be men by equating them with privilege and thus treating them as both an outsider and a threat).

but there Are instances of terfs treating trans men as outright Predatory. as a threat to Them and as a threat to the "poor confused women" that get "manipulated" into "the trans cult" by the trans men they Couldn't indoctrinate.

trans men are vulnerable little girls that are too stupid to know what's good for them and have to be converted Saved, they're the poor lesbians being stolen away from the beds of Deserving radfems women, up until they're Too masculine. until they have beards, until their voices are deep, until they stop wearing makeup, until they're balding or their waste changes or or or-

then they've Mutilated Their Bodies, then they're Frightening, then they're Aggressive and Invasive and Need To Be Dealt With, then they're Ugly Men even as radfems try to deny it.

the feminine trans man is a mark, he's a damsel in distress that radfems want to isolate and indoctrinate. the masculine trans man is Frankenstein's Monster, he's an ugly brutalized image of masculinity, the picture of what radfems hate othered away from what they're a Picture Of by radfems' transphobia. Uncanny and hated just the same.

this isn't "worse" than what terfs do trans women, it's not "better" either, It's The Same, It's The Same.

transphobia, misogyny, and androphobia in a Melting Pot to create a horrific buffet of oppression and abuse. manifesting Differently in different situations and between different people, and yet Fundamentally Connected through the beliefs and ideologies at play.

taking away one of these terms used to Describe this phenomenon doesn't Help, it obfuscates the fact that these things Are connected. which Worsens our ability to Understand them and Address them.

these ideas are Important, not just for trans men but for All Of Us.

and while I'm here, I'd like to address the Other issue I have with proposed alternatives like "anti-trans masc sentiment," Even when proposed in good faith.

if we were to go back and reexamine the terminology for the queer community as a whole and assess if these terms are the most Efficient they possibly could be, would we change them? would we stop using a term like "homophobia" if softening it could make it more palatable? make it easier to introduce the concept to people on the fence? make it easier to ask people to address their own biases without alienating them? if we did away with terms like "internalized homophobia" and instead asked people to address their "complex relationship with gayness" would we be able to get More people to listen?

maybe we could, Maybe softening the term would instead lead to people taking these ideas Less seriously exactly Because it's less direct, Because it's soft, Because it deliberately seeks to Not draw a reaction from a reader. I genuinely couldn't say how this would play out in practice, though we'd probably see both reactions to a degree and thus endless discourse about its effectiveness as a term.

but that's ultimately overshadowed by the Bigger Picture (though, more accurately I could say that it also Informs that bigger picture).

and that's Unity. Cohesion. Communication. Community.

the point of creating terms like this is, of course, in part to give minority groups the vocabulary and perspective necessary to convey their experiences to people outside of said group. and this purpose is endlessly important of course.

but More than that it gives a Community the ability to open a conversation with each other, to take their experiences as Individuals and create a melting pot where they can get a bigger picture of what We As A Group, As A Community, Experience.

this is completely invaluable in every way. it's what allows people to find each other, to know they aren't alone. it allows people to move conversations forward, to unravel complex ideas in a way that Can Acknowledge a vast array of often conflicting and yet Connected experiences. to be able to Build a community together, when lacking a physical space to inhabit, we need Words to connect us. both in passing as neighbors and to Find as Strangers.

when you take a community that already has established terms and you try to popularize an alternative, Especially while encouraging people to Stop using the previous terms, you Split Up that line of communication. people who congregate around one term Won't be in conversation with people who congregate around another, which inhibits the community's ability to grow and deepen.

people who Dislike a term (because it's trying to take something away from them, because they've been told that it's morally reprehensible) Won't engage with it, so posts that are tagged with Only that term will not be found. and even If that term is (unrealistically) universally adopted over time There Will Be A Period where people are simply ignorant of it.

and this is Very Much So used as a weapon by people who Don't want these communities to unify. who Don't want them to talk to each other and Get Ideas. and the smaller, more tentative, less supported a group and term is the more Vulnerable they are to this tactic.

this was and Is used Regularly by exclusionists, though I'm most familiar with how it was used by ace and aro exclusionists Specifically.

they would argue Endlessly about how Anything the ace and aro groups coined for themselves was Bigoted Actually. "aphobe" was attacked by Insisting that it was a term used by autistic people to describe their oppression (a lie, and a ridiculous one at that. there's nothing bigoted about the same term being used for multiple purposes). and "Allo" faced An Endless Barrage of never Ever accepting any term, no alternative, because They Didn't Want Ace People To Be Able To Define The Group That Oppressed Them, because they didn't Believe in that oppression.

Exactly in the same way that transphobes tried to argue that "cis" was really an acronym for something bigoted and so "cis" should be abolished as a term. Exactly in the same way that people argue that "transandrophobia" is offensive Specifically Because they don't believe that trans men are oppressed for being Trans Men.

the point is that they will never accept a replacement term, no matter what. if there Isn't an issue with it (by coincidence or from a certain angle) they will lie to invent one. it's Already Happened with transadrophobia being the intended replacement for transmisandry.

because the Point is double. First to break up the intended target community to hinder conversation around an idea that you don't want to exist, to make it harder and harder for it to be found and (by extension) Understood and expanded upon. and Second to prevent communities from being able to solidify In The First Place.

this wasn't the only tactic that was used to hurt ace and aro people, but it Can't Be Denied that the affect that it had as a whole was devastating. it's been Years since this whole thing started, since it died down even, and the ace and aro communities have yet to recover.

it's Easy to fall into the trap and say "well if we just get the term Right this time then it'll be okay ! if we Fix It then they'll stop!" but it Is exactly a trap. the point of phrasing it like this, of making it about bigotry or about the term being Problematic, is Both intended to demonize the group for having the Audacity to create a term for themselves at All, And to take advantage of well meaning people within the targeted community to do the leg work for them.

it's about silencing, it's about destabilization, it's about Breaking Apart communities so they can't Grow.

"Meet me halfway," they say. you take a step forward, they take a step back. "Meet me halfway," they say.

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 4: Acceptance

This week on I Accidentally Made Myself Sad With My Own Angst :( As much as I know Forsyth would be the most accepting person in all of Valentia, I think his own insecurities/mindset would cause a bit of tension during his childhood with Python. It has a happy ending but I wanted to explore just a bit of that first...

“Python!” 

Forsyth’s tiny hands trembled, clutching the gift that he’d bought with his very own money. His father didn't need to know.

Python scrambled down the big oak tree to meet him. He tugged at the dress his father probably made him wear for the holiday. His hair had already come loose from it's braid, likely caught on the twigs and leaves of the tree. Forsyth waited anxiously at it's base for him to come down.

When he arrived, Forsyth shoved the box forward. He startled both of them with the force of it.

“I – I – I have this. For you. Will you – I mean – I would –” Forsyth’s cheeks burned red. It was clear what he was asking. There would be no other reason you’d give someone a perfectly wrapped package of sweets on the Day of Devotion unless you were asking them the question.

Python looked down at it. The two had been friends for so long, it took only a second for Forsyth to understand exactly what it meant. 

“Oh…” He felt his stomach twist up in a knot. His throat started to constrict. “I know Father doesn’t like you, but he doesn’t much like anyone. S-so we can make it work!”

“Fors…”

“We could keep it a secret!” Then, in desperation, “we could – we could run away together!”

“Fors!” Python whined. “C’mon, you know we’re too young for that!” With one hand he took the chocolates, and the other took Forsyth's arm. “We’re supposed to be climbing trees and playing pranks on Teacher – not doing gushy grown-up love stuff.”

Forsyth bit his lip. He didn’t think it was gushy at all. He didn’t trust his voice to speak; with one word he may just start bawling right here. The last thing he needed was to be scolded for being so emotional. 

Python beamed as if he hadn’t just shattered Forsyth’s heart into a million pieces. “Let’s just take it slow, okay? We’ll have plenty of time for all that when we’re older, okay?”

He coaxed a small nod from Forsyth.

“Speaking of! I heard Teach left the schoolhouse window open – have I got the perfect plan! We’ll share the chocolates after, okay? You’re my best friend, we should split them.”

I don’t want to split them. Forsyth let himself be tugged along. I wanted to give them all to you. To give everything to you.

He grit his teeth as they ran. He wasn’t the type to accept defeat after a small setback like this. So, Python wasn’t ready. That was fine. One day he would be. And Forsyth would be there. It was like every book he’d read: the steadfast knight would get the beautiful lover, if he was just patient enough.

He said a quick prayer to Mila, that one day they’d stop being friends, and true love would win out.

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hands trembled, his fists balled up in fury. 

“I am sick and tired of this.”

“Oh you’re tired of this? Then quit fucking confessing every single year. Every year it’s the same speech, and the same shitty plan to run away together. We’re not in some fairy tale, Fors. Just give it up.” Python moved to take a sip from his drink, turning his back. Though they’d both come of age, it wasn’t ale. Though it wasn’t ale, they both spoke as loudly as if they’d each had a barrel to drink. It was a good thing Python’s father was out all night; there was no one in the tiny house to hear them argue.

Forsyth grabbed the cup away before he could take a sip. It earned him a hard look, but a direct one. “I’m not tired of confessing, I’m tired of this type of disrespect!” He placed the drink down a foot away. “You can’t just be honest with me and tell me why I’m not good enough for you – it’s infuriating!”

“I am honest. I’ve told you, this has nothing to do with you. It’s me who–”

“Oh-ho, don’t give me that tired cliche! Every year, it’s another cryptic excuse, another roundabout lie!” He flung his hands in wild gestures, his voice pitching. “You say you’re not ready for commitment, yet you spend every day with me regardless. You say you would make a terrible housemate, yet you stay over at my home for weeks at a time. You say you’re not ready to be with someone, yet I catch word that you shared a bed with the innkeeper!”

“What, you jealous or something?”

“That is exactly what I am. And how dare you act like I’m the crazy one for it!” Tears threatened his eyes, but he pushed through. “I have been by your side your entire life, looking out for you, caring for you, giving all of myself over to you! And here you are, laughing in the face of my love! Like - like it’s another one of your jokes!

“Oh, you're jealous, huh? So is that why you do it? You do all that for me just to get laid at the end of the day? Well if you’d said that sooner, I would have happily –”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?”

“It doesn’t make any damned sense, Python!”

“It does, if you would just pipe down and listen when I –”

“Pipe down?” 

“Yeah! If you’d let me finish a damned sentence this will all make sense!”

“Fine then, go ahead and finish – give me one good reason why you don’t want to be with me!”

“When you’re acting like this I could give you a hundred!” Python swatted his cup away, spilling the drink all over the floor. He stormed out of the room.

A heavy silence fell over the house. Forsyth gathered his things. He left. He finally let his tears fall.

It was simple, he decided. All he needed to do was accept the fact that this relationship was going nowhere. Python didn't love him, and he'd just need to imagine whatever reasons he could. They should simply end things before they got any more hurt. 

End our friendship...

He cried through the night, unable to even muster a word to Mila. 

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hand was steady as it took the man’s shoulder. The pair locked eyes. 

“Run away with me.”

The wind rustled the leaves overhead. Usually the area was bustling with chaos as the new building was erected, but Python was the only one to stay back today. Forsyth would have teased him for the irony, if it hadn’t presented him with the perfect opportunity to ask his question.

Python rolled his eyes. “Har-har. I thought today was Day of Devotion, not Flostym Fools'…”

“Huh?” Forsyth’s expression flashed with confusion, then horror. “O-oh! Not like that, of course! Oh gods, I meant… the Deliverance.”

He spread his hands. “It’s clear we’ll never get the approval we seek to join. So I propose we do it in secret. Everyone will be distracted by the village festivities tonight. If we don’t come home right away, everyone will assume it’s for… the festivities. It will give us a reasonable head start. We won’t need to worry about them catching up to us by the time they finally realize we’ve gone.”

He looked eagerly to Python. 

“Heh, using all the hype around love to make our escape... you’re a true ally after all, Fors!”

Forsyth’s look soured. “L-listen. I swear, I would never ask you that again. I mean, we got over that years ago. I nearly lost you to that argument, and I shall never make the same mistake again. I know how much pain I put you through, and I would never dream of –”

“Hey. I know. You had a lot on your mind, then.” He let out a loud sigh. “Which is why I’m gonna come along with you. Somebody’s gotta help you find that special someone, right?”

“Do you mean it? Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”

With a hearty laugh, Python pulled him into a hug. Forsyth held him close. Reality may not follow a path like the perfect little fairy tales he read as a child, but that made it no less perfect.

“So… that’s a yes?”

Python leaned back so he could study his face. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“W-were you not?”

“Eh, I’m not serious about anything…” He offered his hand. “But I’m in. I’m always in.”

Forsyth accepted it, clasping it within both of his. He found himself too choked up for words, though he didn’t care if anyone saw him cry. He wiped tears from his cheeks and smiled at Python’s kindhearted teasing.

He thanked the gods that they would never stop being friends.

[godlizzza]

Holiday prompt: teenage danbert where herbert gets to spend christmas eve/morning with dan's family?

Herbert woke on Christmas morning with Dan's hair in his mouth. Wrinkling his nose, he eased back and spat the brown strands out, squinting at the pale light filtering in between the crack in the curtains and slicing across his face. He tried to sit up back Dan squeezed him tighter, arms locked around Herbert's waist and keeping him firmly pressed against the mattress. Herbert glanced down at him and saw Dan's mouth quirk up at the corners.

He finally opened his brown eyes to look up at Herbert and say, "Merry Christmas."

It was the same thing he'd said last night at the stroke of twelve. He'd pestered him into staying up until midnight purely to wish him a happy Christmas the second he could. Herbert had found him as trying then as he did now, but he couldn't fight the swell of fondness that rose in his chest. It was all such a Dan thing to do.

"Merry Christmas to you too," he mumbled back, poking Dan's nose and smirking at his subsequent scowl. "Sleep well? Or were you too excited thinking of Santa to get any shut eye?"

"I slept amazing," Dan replied haughtily. "But only because I had my human body pillow to keep me company."

He ducked his head down and burrowed into Herbert's chest, nuzzling his sternum hard. Herbert squirmed and shoved at his head, but Dan held firm, hands raking down Herbert's back and slipping dangerously close to his sides. Herbert instantly went stiff and grabbed Dan's wrists, halting his hands before his treacherous fingers could slip beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't you tickle me," he gasped desperately. "If you do, I can't be held responsible for my reflexes."

Dan rolled his eyes but his smile was still soft and syrupy, sweetened with remnants of sleep still sticking to him. "You and your sensitive nerves..."

He gently leaned in and pressed his lips to Herbert's collarbone, where the neck of his shirt dipped low enough to expose the skin of his chest. Herbert shivered at the contact and felt Dan smile against his skin.

"Sooo sensitive," Dan went on in a whisper, trailing his lips higher and kissing Herbert's neck.

Herbert hummed somewhere in the back of his throat, his hands coming to rest on Dan's shoulders. The trouble with sharing a bed with Dan was that they always inevitably wound up here: with Dan's hands and lips and on him, pressing him into the mattress. Herbert didn't dislike it, but he did think Dan could perhaps work on not being so predictable. He was warm though. Positively toasty, in fact. The heat of his body wafted up between them, caged in by the plush comforter and forming a cocoon around them. Herbert's eyes slipped shut as Dan pressed a kiss beneath his jaw and he basked in that warmth.

They didn't have long to indulge, however, before a light rapping came at the door. Herbert opened his eyes to watch Dan blink over his shoulder towards the knocking.

"Danny, Herbert," came the chipper voice of Dan's mother, Leanne, "Are you two up yet?"

"Yeah, Mom," Dan grumbled, releasing his octopus-like grip on Herbert and sitting up. He yawned and stretched, his joints popping with the motion. He sleepily scratched at the light trail of hair dusting his stomach and smacked his lips a couple of times. "We're up."

"Oh, good!" she chirped. "I'm making eggs. Herbert, dear? How would you like yours?"

"Scrambled, please," Herbert replied, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table."

"You got it. See you two in a minute."

Leanne's voice disappeared as her footsteps grew distant, heading towards the stairs. There had been a time when she may have swung the door open with less prompting. After one particularly close call when she had nearly walked in on the two of them making out on top of the sheets, Dan had apparently concocted some story that Herbert was exceedingly private and paranoid about people walking into his room unannounced. Ever since, Leanne had gone out her way to deliberately knock and not enter until Dan gave her the go-ahead. Herbert liked her that much more for it. He couldn't imagine his own mother ever being so considerate.

He followed Dan out of the cosy bed with some regret. He'd never been much of one for Christmas, so a day spent laying beneath a pile of warm blankets sounded just as good a way to spend Christmas day than anything else he could think of. But the Christmas aspect had been what Dan was so excited to have Herbert over for, so he supposed their itinerary was to be more than simply lazing about.

"You're sure this is okay?" Herbert asked, tugging at his pajama shirt as he and Dan padded down the stairs.

Dan glanced over his shoulder, eyes flicking down to catch Herbert fiddling with his buttons, and a grin spread across his face. "Of course, it's okay. You don't need formal dress for this. It's Christmas morning, not dinner at the royal palace."

Herbert frowned but didn't fight him on it. If walking around in his plaid pajamas and socks was okay by the Cain household, he supposed that was fine. It still felt unnatural and odd though. Discomfort prickled up his spine, the irrational fear that his grandfather would spring out from behind a potted plant and accuse him of being a slob itched at the base of his skull. He ignored it though as he and Dan descended the stairs and were welcomed by the smell of frying eggs.

Leanne turned from the stove and gave them a warm smile as they entered the living room. She wore a pink Santa hat and an apron embroidered with a smiling snowman over her nightdress. She waved her spatula at them as Dan tugged Herbert over towards the glimmering Christmas tree.

His father, Scott, was down on his knees, lighting the fireplace. The chopped logs and kindling lit, the fire crackling to life in the hearth. He sat back and clapped his hands together, sending a shower of soot raining down from his palms, onto the carpet. He was also wearing his pajama bottoms, but had on a truly gaudy Christmas sweater, decorated little flashing bulbs. He smiled as Dan excitedly sat down by the stack of presents beneath the pine's green branches.

"Morning, boys," Scott greeted in his usual booming voice. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you," Herbert replied, slowly sinking down to sit beside Dan on the plush rug. "Merry Christmas to you as well."

Dan paused in his ogling of the wrapped presents to shoot a little smile at Herbert. Herbert just glared right back, daring him to say something. He always gave him grief for being what he called 'overly polite' to his parents, but Herbert had no idea how he was supposed to talk to them otherwise. He certainly couldn't pal around with them in the casual way Dan did. That would be...obscene.

"Ready for breakfast?" Scott asked.

"Dad," Dan whined. "Can't we do the presents first?"

"Daniel Jonathan Cain," Leanne chided as she shuffled into the living room, patting down her apron. "You haven't changed since you were a baby." She shot a sparkling smile at Herbert and said, "I used to have to hide his presents in the attic. If I left them under the tree, he'd sneak them away to his room and open them early."

Dan pouted, a blush colouring his cheeks. "I did that one time."

"One time too many," Leanne corrected, then settled down on the arm of the sofa. "But I think we can put Dan out of his misery and do the presents first."

Dan pumped his fist and scrambled to grab the nearest parcel; a small box wrapped in green paper, tied off with a silver ribbon. He shredded the paper apart, flinging the scraps over his shoulders and tearing the box open to reveal a baseball. Herbert frowned slightly at this. Sure, Dan liked baseball, but didn't he have balls already? What did he need with one more? His thoughts were interrupted by Dan's loud gasp. He clutched the box tightly in his hands and brought it an inch from his nose, his eyes wide as he examined it.

"Is that-?" Dan stammered. "Dennis Eckersley?" He lowered the box and stared in wonderment at his dad, who just smiled knowingly back. "You got me a ball signed by Dennis Eckersley? How?"

"Got your Uncle Marv to go to charity auction event for me. Told him to get whatever was best. Soon as he told me he got that ball, I knew you'd love it," Scott replied with a chuckle.

"I do love it," Dan said, hugging the ball tight to his chest. "Thanks, Dad."

Scott clapped Dan on the shoulder and squeezed. Herbert watched the interaction, his eyes glued to where Scott's fingers dug into the fabric of Dan's sweatshirt. When was the last time his father had touched him? Shown him affection? Spoken to him at all? He couldn't remember. Probably not for a long time. After all, conversing with his son would hardly fit in with the busy schedule Grandfather had made for him.

Herbert watched the Cains open several more presents after that: Leanne got Scott a new lawnmower, Dan gave his parents a framed photo of the three of them on some vacation they'd all taken together, Scott got Leanne concert tickets to a band Herbert had never heard of before, and Dan opened several more presents from his parents and extended family. Herbert observed it all from his comfy spot on the floor. It seemed like a scene out of a holiday movie, full of smiles, looks of fondness, and family cheer. With the warmth of the fireplace and the scraps of torn wrapping paper at his feet, Herbert felt cosy in a way he never had on Christmas before. His Christmases were usually spent doing his summer homework from his room, watching the snow fall outside and wondering if his mother would force him to accompany her to a charity dinner.

"This one's for you, Herbert dear."

Herbert's reverie popped like a soap bubble as he came back to himself and blinked at the silver polka-dotted parcel Leanne was holding out to him. He took it without thinking, then frowned down at it in confusion.

"For me?"

"Yes, of course!" Leanne said, her hands knitted together on her lap. "I knew I had to get you something as soon as I knew you'd be spending Christmas with us. It's such a shame you can't be with your own family this year, but I hope you feel at home with us, all the same."

His parents were actually spending Christmas together for once, though it was in France, without Herbert. His father was there for business reasons, and his mother had insisted she come along, though that invitation had not been extended to their son. It suited Herbert just fine- no stuffy dinners to attend with his mother, spent being paraded and ordered to play little ditties on the piano- but Dan had been appalled when he'd told him.

"You can't spend Christmas alone," Dan had insisted.

"I won't be alone," Herbert had replied. "Colette will be there."

Dan had rolled his eyes at this. "Your maid doesn't count. No. No way. You're coming over to my house, no questions asked."

In the present, Herbert blinked at the three faces pointed his way. That uncomfortable itch was back, scraping at the nape of his neck. He had to look away, tugging at a thread on his elbow.

"Thank you, but, um. I didn't get you anything," he admitted, to which Leanne waved him off.

"Don't you worry about that. I just saw this and knew you had to have it."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, one arm around his wife's shoulders. "Go ahead, Champ. Open it up."

Herbert's eyes sought Dan, who gave him an encouraging nod. Herbert swallowed down against the dryness in his throat and did just that, peeling back the paper until a bright sweater revealed itself. He picked it up and held it out before him, the knitted wool rolling down to reveal the image woven into the fabric.

"Oh, Mom, that's great," Dan said.

"I know!" Leanne squealed, slapping Scott's leg. "Isn't it just perfect for him?"

In the middle of the green sweater was a picture of Albert Einstein wearing a Santa hat. A chain of what looked like gingerbread men holding hands was knitted into the hem of the sweater, making a ring around the waist. The cuffs were white with little atom symbols embroidered around the circumference.

"It might be a little big on you, Hon, but that's okay," Leanne said.

Dan knocked his knee against Herbert's and nodded at the garment. "Put it on," he urged.

Herbert, not knowing what else to do, wordlessly obeyed. He pulled the sweater over his head, taking care to not let the woolen strands get caught on his glasses. He threaded his arms through the sleeves then stared down at Einstein peering out from his chest. Leanne beamed, watching for his reaction.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

Herbert nodded, trailing his fingers along the soft wool. "Yes, thank you."

Leanne clapped her hands together excitedly. In that moment, she greatly resembled Dan getting ready to tear into some presents.

"I'm so glad," she sighed, pressing a hand over her breast. Then, with a click of her tongue, she rose to her feet, Scott's arm slipping from her shoulders. "Now, come along, you boys. Your eggs are getting cold."

"Yes, Maam," Scott grunted as he pushed himself from the sofa and followed after her.

He ruffled Dan's hair, earning him a cry of protest from his son, and patted Herbert's shoulder. Herbert stared at that hand on his shoulder, Scott's hand big and rough from a career spent toiling in gardens. His touch was there only for a moment, gone in a second, as though he hadn't even thought about the action at all. He paced after his wife, leaving Herbert and Dan alone by the tree.

Dan waited until his parents' voices grew faint as they entered the kitchen before turning to Herbert and speaking softly. "Well? How're you liking your first real Christmas morning?"

"Good," Herbert replied, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. "There are slightly less singing snowmen and elves than I'd anticipated, but this is still very nice."

Dan's eyebrows bumped up towards his hairline. "What kind of movies have you been watching? Without me?" When Herbert made a big show of shrugging innocently, Dan's expression broke into a grin and he ducked his chin down. Leaning forward, he murmured into Herbert's ear, "For what it's worth, I'm really happy your here. Everything's way better when you're around."

Herbert had to press his lips into a straight, hard line to keep them from doing something stupid, like tilting into a lopsided, lovesick smile. That's what being in love with Dan was like though: sickening.

"I'm glad too," was all he replied with, but Dan's smile didn't dim.

"After breakfast, we can go sledding," he said, then nodded at the window. "Look. It's snowing."

Herbert turned and saw that Dan was right. Some time since they'd woken up, snow had begun to gently fall from the sky, adding to the piles of chilly white clumps blanketing the ground. The outside world looked like a giant hand had coated everything with glittering frosting. Children were already racing out of their homes, padded in layers of coats and scarves, to build snowmen and throw snowballs at each other. Just watching them made draw his knees up to his chest and bask in the bubble of warmth that was the Cain living room.

Dan pressed a hand to Herbert's back as they both watched the neighbourhood children play. He could feel that Dan wanted to do more- hug or embrace him- but with his parents only in the next room, it was impossible. Herbert cherished that hand though, leaned back against Dan's touch, simply luxuriating in him being so near.

"That sounds like fun," Herbert said, and Dan laughed.

Maybe he could learn to love Christmas if he could spend them all like this.

[rweiser]

You're not wrong at all, becoming a sorcerer is knowing that you will die in the process of protecting others. Which is also why sukuna is the strongest sorcerer in history because he doesn't care about others at all. He only cares about himself.

The loneliness and isolation that come with unparalleled strength is one of the major themes of the manga, and while people usually only examine it in terms of Gojo’s development, they don’t really extend it far enough to the other characters imo. There’s this idea presented that being the strongest means being alone as no one can understand what it’s like to have such great power. It’s spelled out pretty clearly with Gojo’s situation how isolated he feels within society as there really isn’t anyone who gets close to matching his strength, which is what makes his relationship with Geto so much more devastating; Geto was the closest to reaching the same heights as Gojo and tried to understand him, but ultimately these things were proven false with Geto’s subsequent betrayal. This reinforced Gojo’s loneliness as the strongest, and influenced parts of his later teachings, evident in the interaction with Megumi where he says something to the effect of “even if you’re surrounded by others, when you die, you die alone.”

And it’s this loneliness of being the strongest that makes Gojo find commonality with Sukuna. Sukuna is considered the strongest in history, paralleling Gojo as the strongest in the modern era. In addition, we’ve learned that Sukuna was born unwanted and as such likely faced isolation from birth, further exacerbated by his extreme strength. These factors combined with the overvalue of strength in jujutsu during the Golden Age likely informed a belief that individual strength is all that matters, and that strength can only be achieved alone and without the risk of others dragging you down, which is the mindset that Sukuna carries with him even as he incarnates as a cursed object. We see just how warped Sukuna’s perspectives on relationships are when he discusses love with others, deciding that others show their love by challenging/defeating you, and in turn you show love to others by defeating them (or however he put it; I don’t remember exactly). And without a figure to challenge his perspectives while still a sorcerer (like Gojo had with Geto), his beliefs became all the more extreme and all the more isolating.

And now we see that extreme strength and isolation be challenged by the ideals of our main protagonist, Yuuji Itadori. In the very beginning, Yuuji receives a “curse” from his grandpa to help others and to die surrounded by people, not alone like his grandpa would. Right away, you can understand that it’s a complete contradiction to the realities of jujutsu sorcery as demonstrated by the pinnacles of sorcery (Gojo and Sukuna). Yuuji has had to rely heavily on his allies throughout the series because he had yet to develop his personal strength, and now that he’s really come into his own, he still works with others rather than relying only on his own strength—definitely not like Sukuna.

And that’s what makes the current arc so important to that overall theme of strength bringing isolation. While Gojo had been a sort of catalyst in challenging this idea with his attempts at raising strong sorcerers who could stand on his level, it’s Yuuji who’s really driving the point home now. For Yuuji shouldn’t have been a challenge for Sukuna; in the beginning of this arc, he really didn’t capture Sukuna’s interest the way other challengers had. And yet now Yuuji is posing a serious threat not only to Sukuna’s physical wellbeing, but also to his very ideals of individual strength. I don’t want to go too far down the “power of friendship” rabbit hole, but in Yuuji’s case, that’s sort of what it is. Yuuji is strong not because he has shed his bonds in favour of individual strength, but because he’s been willing to create bonds with several others and use those bonds to fuel his strength. And even though he has had many allies fall on the battlefield, their sacrifices aren’t nearly as pointless as some fans make them out to be. For while they may not be present in body on the battlefield anymore, they’re not necessarily out of the fight; they have helped shape Yuuji in irreversible ways, have all contributed to his unprecedented growth in jujutsu. In this way, Yuuji’s strength is the culmination of all the bonds he’s created—has become something more than the sum of its parts. And it’s no wonder Sukuna is so affected by this turns of events; after all, one of those parts comes from Sukuna’s very own soul. Fighting Yuuji now must be like looking in some sort of distorted mirror.

So yeah, I understand why people are upset by their faves dying. But rather than resorting to that knee-jerk reaction of spreading extreme hate when things don’t go the way you want, I think it’s more important to examine why the author decided to kill them off, what effect their death has on the overall message of the story. Because at the end of the day, it really is just a story, a way to get a message across—maybe about the world around us, or maybe even about ourselves. We do ourselves a disservice if we don’t examine it.

[sillyabtmusic]

YOUR TAGS 😭😭😭😭😭 omg friend i am losing my mind 😭🫶 it's so special to be a part of a joke between you and your mom and also your own brain chemistry (???? 😭) truly appalling and awesome and i am honored

ALKDFJALDKJF very glad to hear you find it special because when i was tracking it down to reblog i for sure thought it'd be a bigger post then it was like 9 notes and i felt so silly reblogging it 😭 but yeah pretty much your ramblings about jongho and hongjoong are permanently embedded in my psyche now 🫶

[zoomingupthathill]

This is a very important PSA, I truly am so grateful for all of you. Sometimes I wonder why I stick it out, and continue to write on tum.blr. I wonder why I put myself through some of the things I go through, but then I remember -- i've met some of the loveliest people on this hellsite, and it is all worth it. Some of you are stuck with me, there's no shaking me now. <3 So I just wanted to say thank you, for being you! For being as amazing as you all are, and for always being there. For putting up with me remaking, for putting up with me taking a million impromptu hiatuses. For knowing that i've gone MIA randomly, and still just staying. YOU ARE ALL SUCH LOVELY BEANS, AND I HONORED, AND BEYOND THANKFUL TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE.

[pochapal]

revisiting the "bodies with no faces" argument to prop up a faked corpse theory is. hrm.

[arlathen]

oh i made myself sad thinking abt amadea. like her best friends in the inquisition are.

solas (left). varric (barely remembers shes a person). cole (returned to the fade). dorian (left).

she gets to talk on the fantasy phone w dorian but legit the only person who might canonically spend any amount of time w her is blackwall.

[sayakxmi]

Absolutely. Jade would draw on them, too, and they'd both have So. Much. Fun. They'd also draw their fursonas, and of course joke about Jade being a part dog, so she's in a way her own fursona in real life. Dave draws her in his signature style. Jade ends up drawing furry!Dave, too, not just Akwete, as a payback. All in good faith, obviously, they're just fooling around and they both know it.

And when their kids are born (or adopted), they are not only allowed but encouraged to add their own creative touches to the ever growing collection of plant pots and probably even more random knickknakcs.

They have one of the tackiest houses out of all the people they know, being outranked by 2-3 at best, but it's colorful and full of joy and good memories.

Something they have both always wanted.