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#but i've explained to them what i feel like and they just don't get and i get mad but i akso know it's not their fault and just... oughhhhh
r0-boat · 3 days
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Hiii would you mind if I make a request :3
Soooo, I've been thinking, how would the 5 demon king's would react when their s/o or MC (she/her if it's possible, if not genderneutral is ok uwu) is ovulating and she is all needy but doesn't say anything~
Because these men are truly more feral, like Beel's always sniffing us and getting aroused by our smell, or Leviathan having some kind of rut/heat and getting all attached to MC; these boys are more wild and animalistic (don't know if it's the correct way to describe it haha)
Thank you if you accept my request :3
Actually obsessed with this Ask.👀
Natural Pheromones
Whb headcanons
Cw: scent kink, Breeding Kink, scientifically explaining in a porn game lol
summary: AFAB!reader is ovulating and the demons are acting weird
This is very interesting to me considering the fact that demons can't have offspring on their own with each other unless they pray to Lilith or something. But they can have offspring with humans so it makes me think
Since demons have better chances having offspring with humans, perhaps demons just evolved to react to what a human is ovulating.
Solomon was born male he doesn't have the same natural pheromones that AFAB has. Demons who had never been in the human world will never know why they start feeling such a magnetic pull to you.
Did you change your hair? Was it perhaps new clothes? Maybe a new lotion or perfume? because you smell slightly sweeter. And is it just them, but is your skin softer too?
Beel was the most affected by this change; He could practically find you from miles away. Uncharacteristically clinging to you as soon as he finds you. Burying his nose against your neck. You ask him "is there something wrong?" And he just matters that he misses you.
Levi has been taking up his aggressive antics a notch because he's too stubborn for you to find out that he has been jerking his cock ever since you stepped foot in his castle. You have been driving him and his devil's crazy, and he hasn't had the foggiest idea why.
Lucifer has been having a little baby fever of his own since you visited. He wants to know what the child between the child of man and fallen angel would look like.
Mammon is in fucking rut, And no matter how much he fucks you, it's not enough. Draining his balls leaving him still unsatisfied.
Satan is starting to become a resource-guarding dog.
Devils will not leave you alone!! Sure you've been always surrounded by devils but this time you draw crowds, And if it isn't for the kings always around you these devils will be bang and brushing themselves against you desperate for your attention.
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hecateslore · 3 days
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Thank you for writing my ask! I loved it!! 🥺 I'm a huge sucker for just that equal partnership "we're in this together" sort of relationships.
I've got another one for you, if you don't mind of course! ❤️ Older boyfriend!Simon with any sort of sweet domestic moment? The kind of moments where you look over at your partner and you go "wow, I love them. I love them so, so much. I'm glad they're here and I wouldn't change it for the world" kind of feeling? If that's not too much to ask 🖤🖤
Thank you again! Hope you're doing well 😊🖤
sure can 💗 asks are open!!!
"If you were any other person, I would've went like this and then like this, " You demonstrated your sneak attack on a very quiet and confused Simon. Your hand flat and swatting at the air in front of him.
"Okay..." Simon said awkwardly, Moving past you, You let out a loud cackle in response. "What'd you do today?" You trailed behind him into your shared bedroom. Watching him get out of his work uniform. "Work." He grunted taking one of his boots off. "No der." You rolled your eyes, "You hungry?" you asked him, watching him stretch his arms and back, "I'm always hungry.." He mumbled, You shook your head, chuckling at his sarcasm.
You stood in the kitchen in the middle of making dinner for you and Simon. Simon walking out of the hallway in his lounge wear. He looked over your figure. He watched you clean as you went, checking the pot ever other minute or so, "What'd you get up to today?" His voice raspy with exhaustion, "Stuff." You grunted, poorly impersonating your man.
"That's sounds fun." He sat with his head in his hand, his fingers played with his bottom lip. "Foods almost done." You mumbled, too in focus of what was in front of you. You served yourself a plate first then getting Simon's. You slid it over to him on the counter, "How's that?" You wiggled your brows, Simon only chuckled at you.
"You're a crazy woman," Simon looked at you, watching you prance around the kitchen with food in your mouth. "So i've been told." You agreed, "Why aren't you sitting?" Simon asked, "I've been sitting all day." You explain, digging into your plate.
"Stop staring," You said with a mouthful, "It's a habit." His eyes still on you, "A bad one." You took a sip from your glass. Simon winked at you and you flicked his arm in return. "You look pretty today." Simon said, pushing his empty plate away, "Don't I always look pretty." You stabbed at the pasta on your plate. "Always.." He hummed, his hand going to your shoulder, "...Always so pretty and kind." Simon's hand brushed you cheek. You narrowed your eyes, "What is it?"
"What is what?" Simon said confused. "Are you drunk?" You grin, "Just happy." He shrugged, "That's weird." You make a pretend shocked face, Simon shook his head at you. You finished your food with Simon staring at you the entire time.
You both sat on the kitchen stools, "You sleepy?" You rubbed Simon's back, "A little bit." He said mid yawn. "I love you," You said, placing a kiss on his shoulder. Your lips linger and he places his hand around your head. Embracing you, You pull away eventually, Staring at him.
"Love you more." He kisses your lips, short and sweet. He pulls away leaving a smile on your lips, you wipe what was left of your gloss that transferred onto his lips. "Let's go to bed." You suggested, Simon wiggled his brows, a habit he picked up from being with you so many years. "Don't be gross," You push his face away, Simon kissed the palm of you hand affectionately.
"Let's go then." He sighed, filled with food and so full of love.
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Text
Therapy
Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader
TW: hurt/comfort & cursing
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Logan's been so focused on working out that he hasn't noticed that his phone has been ringing the past minute and a half, not at least until there's a banging on his home gyms door.
Logan's head snaps towards the door at the sudden noise, taking long but cautious strides to see who's there, opening it only to reveal a less than pleased Y/N standing there.
"Hey," Logan says breathless as he wipes sweat from his forehead "You could've called first"
a scoff leaves Y/N's mouth "I just did, you've blowing me off this past week. I need you to talk to me"
Logan's first season in Formula 1 wasn't the best, he was a bit underweight, not following the diet his trainer gave him and he wasn't managing his energy well in the car which would burn him out and either made him DNF or finish last, which was really getting to him.
"I'm working out, Y/N, I'm busy." he pants, going right back into the exercise he briefly put on hold.
"You're gonna make their weight requirement in the next 10 minutes?" Y/N spat, a little harsher then she intended it to come out but she still stood her ground, making Logan stop and stare at her.
"Thanks you for being so supportive of my work" Logan said with sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Because you've been such a champion of mine?" Y/N scoffed. It's true, Y/N just recently signed a contract with WWE's developmental program NXT and not even a single congratulation from her boyfriend.
Logan turned around, fire burning in his eyes "What's that supposed to mean?"
Y/N looks back with an icy stare "What do you think it means?"
Logan just stares at her dumbfounded which causes Y/N to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration before she continues, "I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to talk about my needs? What needs?"
"Did I say that?" His eyebrows knit in confusion as he stares at her urging her to explain.
"You didn't have to say it, it's implied." She rubs her forehead in anger
Logan whips around in utter confusion "How is it implied?"
"You're the athlete and I'm the girlfriend. That's how you feel right?" That causes Logan's hands to cover his eyes and roughly rub his temples as he senses an argument brewing.
Logan absolutely hated arguing with his girlfriend, but ever since his first season started that's all they ever seemed to do. Logan left the TV on all night? Argument. Logan ate something he shouldn't have? Argument. Y/N left her shower towel on top of Logans beach towel? Argument. Y/N forgot to lock the ferret in the cage and now Logan's keys are missing and he's late to a very important William's meeting (he wasn't making it anyway, he took too long acting like Taylor Swift during the ERAS tour in the shower)? Argument.
"Can we talk about this later, please" Logan tries to change the subject so he can finish his workout
"When Logan? When is later?" Y/N raises her voice an octave higher than she intended.
"Not tonight," Logan said, tears of frustration forming on the brims of his eyes threatening to spill.
His response made Y/N's face contort with anger in a way he's never seen before that he made a mental note of never to make her that mad again because he was scared.
"I have been working out all day. I have up since 4 this morning. I have tried to make their weight requirement for a week, and I am nowhere!" Logan yells, those tears of frustration once threatening to spill have now poured out his eyes with more following in pursuit.
"I've been telling you how unhappy I am for months!" tears have now also started flowing out Y/N's eyes as they argue.
"Everyone's unhappy in Miami! That's what Miami is!" Logan screamed has he throws a 5 pound dumbbell on the floor by the bench
"I don't know how to get through to you anymore. You keep shutting me out! You keep putting up these fences!" Y/N's hands tremble in anger as she throws them up, running her fingers through her hair
"I'm not, I'm not shutting you out" Logan states as he wipes the tears from his face but to no avail as more tears spill from his green eyes
"You're a million miles away all the time" Y/N's voice trembles as she lets the tears free flow.
"Actually, I'm right here." Logan says with the straightest face you can have as a crying arguing mess of a man
"Are you Logan? Actually? Cause I know you" Y/N says as the tears slowly stop falling.
"You're right. I've been distracted, but I promise you, after I make this requirement-" before Logan could finish his statement, he gets cut off
"After the requirement?" Y/N whispers in disbelief
"After the requirement!" Logan confirms in a harsh tone
"Everything is after the requirement!" Y/N screams
"Yeah"
"What if you make the requirement and nothing happens? No William's contract extension? You don't go straight to point positions? You're still a bad driver, You still DNF, You don't get signed with anyone else? What then, Logan? What about me?!" The tears that briefly stopped streaming down her face started back up and flowed faster than this time.
"I can't move with you to Orlando. I can't leave my career behind" Logan ripped off the band-aid, he couldn't put off the real reason he's been avoiding this topic, why he's been avoiding Y/N.
"You think I don't know that?" she trembled.
"What," Logan stops, unsure of what she means and what he wants to say next, a million thought in his mind at what his girlfriend just said to him, but not one of those questions are coming out of his mouth right now "What are you...? What is this? What do you want?" he finally manages to choke out
"I guess I just, I wanted you to tell me not to go" Y/N finally lets out and that's when all the emotion she's been bottling up for months comes out, unable to stop the sobs she chokes out. She's a shaking sobbing mess on the floor and all Logan could do was just stare. He knew she'd been hurting at his cold shoulder treatment but he didn't think it hurt her this bad. He couldn't believe that he was watching her hurt this bad because of him and there was only one question floating in the back of his mind...
why don't I feel bad?
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cripplecharacters · 3 days
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Hi, I have some questions regarding confusion over a certain topic. First off, I have a character with a severe scarring on the upper right side of their body. I've heard in some tumblr ppsts that such appearance shouldn't be fetished. Then I stumbled across some posts, mentioning how the character can be described as 'pretty with it'.
For sure, I'm trying my best to normalize the looks. Because I have a love interest set up for them and while they don't mind the looks, I feel confused on how to convey their appreciation for the character's looks even with the scarring. They like the character as they are and stuff.
Sorry if this is a lot, I tend to get confused on how to handle such scenarios. And this sort of varying opinions is making me go '???'.
It's okay if you take your time to answer! Have a good day ahead of ya!
Hi!
"Fetishization of a disability" and "thinking that a disabled person is pretty" are two very different things. Despite the somewhat similar sound, they're not connected by much.
In the context of scars, fetishization would be what I would call the "Zuko situation" (yes, I love ATLA as much as the next guy, let me explain) - the scar isn't really a scar, it's more of a, I don't know, make-up? It's just the color that changes, it's all sharp edges and intricate shapes, the facial structure stays the exact same. There's no physical symptoms. Essentially, it's permanent body paint.
It fetishizes a disability by making it inaccurate, sometimes almost mystical. You don't see anyone fetishizing how real people with facial burns look like because they only like the idea of it. They don't care for us; they don't care for Face Equality or why we are offended by "villain with scar #32482". It's just a fun splotch of color to add to your OC when you're out of ideas.
Another aspect of fetishization is the "a scar is the worst thing in the whole world", the tragedy porn. It's using a disability for cheap drama. Again; it's inaccurate and exploitative. I don't see writers excited to depict my "coming to terms with my facial difference as a teenager, and eventually being proud of it" experience because where's the shock value and pity points? Fetishization, again, is about liking the idea of it, not the real thing.
Describing your character as beautiful, well, isn't any of that.
The point that I tried to make on that post was that a scar is often considered inherently ugly. That it's a stain on someone's beauty, that it would be better if it wasn't there.
"Brown beautiful eyes, thick facial hair, strong cheekbones - he managed to be irresistibly handsome even with that nasty scar going across his nose."
This, well, sucks. It's as if the character's beauty and their disability are contradictory forces that have to fight each other. But in reality, scars and any other visible disabilities are neutral. If the character is pretty, their scar is pretty too. It's a part of them, so how could it not be?
"She was a cute girl; her pastel pink, thinly braided hair framed her face, defying gravity by curling towards her mouth. The burned skin on her lips shifted as she smiled, revealing a tooth gap. She played with her equally pink 'white' cane, holding it between the two fingers she had on her right hand, bopping it against the ground to the rhythm of the song."
This, on the other hand, just states her disability as a part of her person. It's nothing weird or shocking, she's pretty, has a burn on her face, she's blind, she's missing some fingers, she's enjoying the music - it's almost boring when compared to the usual "scar introduction". There's no "even with her horribly burnt face", no "if only she wasn't scarred she would be beautiful", no "poor thing, lost her fingers in a horrific fire" - instead, she is beautiful, and she has scars, and she sure is having fun. That's it.
This is my best shot at explaining the difference between "fetishization" and "yeah they're pretty :-)" ft. my questionable writing - I hope this makes sense.
I definitely took my time to answer, sorry about that. Thank you for your ask!
mod Sasza
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tj-dragonblade · 1 day
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I SEE YOU HAVE A TAKE ON MER HOB MAY I HEAR ABOUT MER HOB
YOU ABSOLUTELY MAY, even if it took me longer to respond than intended, oops. But! Mer-Hob is slowly turning into a different fic than originally imagined last year. Which is fine, and good, because what I'd originally imagined just wasn't working. I think I can confidently place him back on the wip list now with a better idea of the shape he'll have moving forward. And for you, thank you for your patience, here is their freshly-drafted first kiss scene:
"Dream?"
Dream glances to where Hob sits beside him, tail fin drifting idly in the water near Dream's bare feet. Dream had brought chocolate, again; the delight Hob had displayed the first two times was something he wanted to see again, and again, and again. He wanted to find every way possible to bring joy to Hob, to make that warm smile light up, to bring his laughter bubbling forth.
The chocolate has been finished, though, and Hob sounds…tentative; Dream's brow creases. "Yes?"
"I've got a question for you. Or. Well. Not so much a question, as something I'd like to tell you." He's tilted his head slightly, is toying with the lowest spine of his ear-fin. "It's. It's—I've been trying to tell you, like I would another mer, but I don't think you get it. And why would you, culturally, you've got no way to know if I don't explain it first right? So I thought, maybe I should just. Try it the human way?"
Dream is perplexed, not sure he entirely follows what Hob is trying to say, but then Hob is leaning closer, leaning in, as if he means to—
His lips touch Dream's, and Dream's heart stops as his brain catches up. Hob. Is kissing him—
Except it's not exactly a kiss, has none of the common elements aside from two pairs of lips in contact; Hob is very still, holding that touch for another instant, and then he pulls back.
Dream's heart thuds in his chest, tripping faster; he can feel how wide his eyes are and how his mouth has fallen slightly open, but all he can see is the hopeful uncertainty in the warm depthless brown of Hob's eyes.
"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right. But a kiss is how you say you like someone, right?"
"I. Yes." Dream is drowning in the instant-replay inside his own brain. Hob. Had kissed him. Hob had kissed him. Hob had kissed him—
"Well. I like you. And I think maybe…maybe you might um. Like me too?"
Dream manages a nod. "Mmhm." His heart is racing.
"Well!" Hob looks delighted if still nervous, and his tail flicks up in the water with a splash. "That's good, then! Brilliant! Okay!" He smiles, all warmth and happy energy. "Okay."
"Merfolk do not kiss, then?" Dream is slowly processing, still catching up, still circling helplessly around the bright spot of Hob kissed me, Hob LIKES me.
"Not many, nope. And I've never. But I've seen enough humans and human stuff to get the idea. Did I do it right?"
"Right enough. However." Boldness surges up in Dream, riding the bubbling tide of joy curling higher within his chest. "Can I. May I show you, what observation alone does not perhaps convey?"
"Of course," Hob says, curiosity in the tilt of his eyebrows, and Dream leans in.
It's soft, sweet; he fits his lips gently to Hob's and presses, brushes them together and apart and together again, aching with the fulfillment of this long-held wish. He is kissing. Hob. And Hob is kissing back, tentatively matching the movement of Dream's mouth on his, and Dream is dizzy with it. His hands yearn to hold, to touch; he brings one up and lets his fingertips flutter lightly to rest on Hob's cheek, away from the delicate spread of his ear-fin, away from the curve of his neck where his gills are tightly sealed. And when Hob reaches carefully to touch him in kind, Dream's heart soars.
A long moment passes before he ends the kiss at last; he draws back just enough to see, to watch Hob's eyes blink slowly open.
"Oh," Hob breathes, voice full of softness and wonder, and his beautiful eyes shine warm with the same.
~ Mer-Hob wip tag for the other recent chunk and some older little bits that may just wind up orphaned
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georgeclarkesgf · 3 days
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forgetful | george clarke
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the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.
"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"
"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"
he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.
"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.
"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.
"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."
now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.
"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.
"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.
she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.
he decided on the latter.
--------
it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.
"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"
"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.
"okay. can we talk about it?"
"i've said my peace. you go."
"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."
george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.
in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.
"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"
"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."
"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."
and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.
a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3
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meichenxi · 2 days
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languages, travel, identity, grief
Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩 再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.
I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.
That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.
I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.
And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.
I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.
And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.
But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.
There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!
And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.
So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.
You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.
I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.
It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.
And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.
It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.
Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.
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kdinjenzen · 3 days
Note
Hey kdin what are the 5 games in that list that you HAVEN'T played, and do you intend to play them eventually? Why or why not?
The Sims
Mass Effect
Total War
The Witcher
Dragon Age
I've played like ... the first three hours of Mass Effect six times, which I don't think counts as "playing it" but it was enough for me to really dislike it. Also I've had people explain the game series plots to me and every time I get so fucking mad at how assballs bananas stupid it sounds that I feel like I'm losing my mind when I hear it's a "greatest of all time" contender according to the industry.
I also played the multiplayer for Dragon Age Inquisition and that's it... which also doesn't count I think.
I've played SIM CITY but not The Sims.
I don't go to "Total War", it's just not my thing.
And I've heard so much mixed bag nonsense about The Witcher that I kind of checked out immediately.
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Note
Hello! Can you do a hualian x ftm reader if you’re comfortable with it? However that works in that time period is totally up to you. But basically they are feeling down and because hualian are totally gay he thinks that they can’t possibly like him. 🥲 just reassurance and fluff
Possibilities
HuaLian x ftm!reader
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Xie Lian and Hua Cheng make you happy. You've built such a strong connection and bond with them you can't help but fall in love. Falling in love is hard though. You want to share their joy, you want to be their third piece but... You aren't really a man.
Well you are but sometimes you think you're lying to yourself. Your own mind gets to you. Everyone else thinks you're a man. You've held on to a male form for years if not centuries. But sometimes you feel like you've been lying to everyone around you.
You've never told Xie Lian or Hua Cheng that you began as a woman. Is it even necessary? But if you don't are you tricking them? You've been stuck in your head about your concerns for weeks. You want to confess to them. That you for sure know you're going to do. You just don't know if you'll mention if you're trans.
You do. You come clean or at least it feels like you're coming clean to them. For some reason you felt like a trickster. You can't bear to look at them, and you start to tear up in nervousness. "I- after all this time I've fallen in love with y-you both. B-but I must tell the truth I-Im not really a man and-". You can't bring yourself to speak further. You know Xie Lian isn't interested in women, you don't know if he'd be interested in what's left of one.
You don't get a chance to say anything more when Hua Cheng and Xie Lian wrap their arms around you. Xie Lian cups your face making you look at him, and then he kisses you deeply.
They take a long time to explain thoroughly, that they love you. You're valid and that you're a man, and they love you. They repeat it hundreds of times. No matter what form you take they love you for more than just your body so why would that matter to them?
After you're done crying you take comfort in living in their arms for a while. You don't know why you were ever so scared. You should've known they wouldn't have hated you from the start. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng make sure that you know you're very loved. They love letting their hands roam and loving in your body, kissing on you to make sure you feel better about yourself.
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n1ghtfurys · 2 days
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For the record
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Mentions a toxic relationship
(Also I've never done this before so....yeah.)
“For the record this is self destructive” Soaps tone is flat, this has happened so much he's not even shocked anymore. Simon's mad over you, you have a fight, break up and he comes crawling back even when it's your fault. You make him stupid and it grates on Soap like nothing else, the fact that you don't like him doesn't help the situation much either. 
“For the record I'm aware of that.” Ghost replies sounding exasperated, he knows you're bad for him. You like the attention you get, the way he fucks you when he comes back like he's hoping you'll see him as the only guy in the world and in a sense you do. You love him, you really do but you can't help yourself. When it's good it feels too good, so you fuck it up. You know it fucks with him and you know Soap hates you for it but you can't help it. You know one day he might not come back and that terrifies you, you're trying to stop it but old habits die hard right?.
Simon sighs and drags his hand over his face. He knows it's dumb to be so caught up in you but you get him and he can't explain it other than he loves you, loves being with you. Even the stupid bits where you decide you hate him, all the mood swings and screaming and shouting. The make up sex, the cuddling, the way you rake through his hair, how sweet your voice sounds, all of it.
Usually whenever you guys ‘fall out’ he spends the entire time fantasising about what he'll do when he gets back to you, that mixed with the fact that he was on deployment before your last spat has him reeling. He’s nothing if not pent up, the anger doesn't help either. He hasn't been able to get you out of his head, he's lost count of all of the wet dreams and the videos he's replayed. Some of them weren't even sexual, just videos of you smiling at him (from a vacation he took you on a while back).
He shifts his hips, trying to make the way his cock is chubbing up, again, from just the thought of you less noticeable. 
“Si-” Soap begins but Simon cuts him off. 
“For the record I've been picturing her body draped over the sofa wearing nothing but my mask.” He regrets it the minute he says it, he can't stop the way the idea of you like that makes him feel. How it makes his cock throb. 
Soap rolls his eyes and makes an exasperated noise. “For the record.” He mimics clearly annoyed. 
"I'm screwed." Simon knows he's right, he knows the two of you are toxic but he's addicted. Everything about you is so good, and maybe if he keeps coming back you'll realise that whatever fucked up reason you have for treating him like this isn't worth it.
Simon and Soap sit in a charged silence for a while before Soap appears to get sick of Simon's awkward fidgeting. 
Simon gives him a grateful nod before Soap pauses at the door, “For the record, I think you should leave the lass, no matter how bonnie you think she is.”
They both know it fell on deaf ears, not only because he was too focused on how bad he wishes he could push his cock into you instead of his hand but also because they both know he's down bad.
The way Simon's palming at his cock the minute the door clicks shut is honestly pathetic, he wants you so bad it feels like he needs you. He dips into the grey joggers he has on and pulls his aching cock out and gives it a few fast tugs, before pushing his thumb over the tip and smudging the pearly bead of pre like you do.
He bucks up into his hand, your name falling out of his mouth as he imagines it's your soft hand wrapping around the base of his cock. As he wishes it was your tongue circling its sensitive head. 
He drags his hand along the throbbing member remembering the way you clench around him. Envisioning your perfect form bouncing feverishly on his cock, milking him dry.
Before he knows it he's thrusting into his own fist, moaning your name over and over as if it will make his thoughts real while he spills over his knuckles. All while wishing he was cumming into your needy little cunt.
:(
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mercurygray · 2 days
Note
Hiiii Merc 💜
Everything ok? Hope you're feeling better!
I saw your prompt list and I just couldn't resist... How would you feel about either nr 72 (mischief managed) or nr 74 (are you challenging me?)
For, you guessed it, my girl Fred? (I have to stay loyal to my girl)
If not, no worries 💜
Thank you 😍
- your Fred Friend
The three of them definitely looked like trouble.
Fred looked up from the table she was wiping down to see Ken Lemmons at the door of the Aero Club, his two smallest assistants in tow.
"Morning, Fred," Ken said with a smile. "Mind if we come in?"
"Oh, I'm not sure I can let these two hooligans in here," Fred added with pretend seriousness, looking down at Billy and Sammy, who was carrying a cardboard box. "Since they're not actually members of the US Armed Forces."
"Not even if we brought you a present?" Sammy asked, gesturing with the box he was holding.
"Billy and Sammy found something out at the hardstand and thought you'd like to have it," Ken explained. "I thought it'd be better if they brought it to ya in person."
Fred pretended to consider it, keeping in mind that all three of them, including Ken, looked like they were up to something. It was not outside the realm of possibility for the contents of the box to be a live frog - or a cow pie. "Well, I do like presents. Depends if it's a good one."
"We brought you a spark plug!" Billy said with a grin, obviously very pleased with his joke.
Fred's eyebrows went clear up into her hair, trying not to appear uncharitable. (Six year old boys were a tough bunch when you didn't like their jokes.) "Oh, well then. Can't say I've gotten one of those recently. Where is it?" But just as she said that, the box in Sammy's arms meowed, and one tiny black paw batted its way out of the lid. A spark plug, huh? Fred carefully opened up the box, trying not to get swiped, and came face to face with a tiny scrap of a black kitten, eyes peering querulously up from the cardboard. It yowled inquisitively and tried to stand up on its back legs to get out, not quite strong enough to make the jump yet.
"Goodness me. Where on earth did you find him?"
Sammy spoke up immediately. "We were helping Ken with the engine and he needed a spanner -"
"A wrench," Billy corrected over his friend, looking at Ken for confirmation that he'd used the right word. Ken nodded, but Sammy had kept right on going.
"-And there was a noise in the boxes of spare parts! So we named him Spark Plug!"
"He scratched me," Billy added, showing the still-red scratch on his good hand. "But I don't think he meant it."
"I think he might have gotten away from his mother and crawled in where it was warm," Ken offered, by way of actual context. "Needs a little bit of looking after, but I thought he might help with your mice."
Helen came round the corner with the bookkeeping ledgers, heading for the back office from the supply room. "What's this? Presents for Fred and not for me?"
"I think he's for all of us, Helen." Fred collected the box from Sammy and tipped it to show Helen. The kitten batted at the box again. "This is Spark Plug."
"Oh, goodness, isn't he a darling," Helen said, reaching in with one finger to pet his small velvet head. "Hello, you. Are you hungry, precious? Did those boys give you a silly name?"
"Can we help feed him?" Billy asked, obviously with an eye to the main chance of getting into the kitchen and closer to whatever today's treats were likely to bed.
"Before we do anything he's going to go outside and get a bath, and while we're doing that you're going to go with Ken to the ammunition depot and find us a tray of sand," Helen announced. "He needs a place to do his business. If we're going to start with cats I want them to know what the expectations are."
"Well, come on, you heard Miss Helen," Ken said, a hand on both their small shoulders. "Let's go find some sand."
Their mischief now mostly managed, the two boys took off at a run towards Ken's Jeep, their handler taking his sweet time behind them so he could drive over to the depot. Trouble, Fred repeated to herself with a grin, still holding the box. Inside, Spark Plug made another swipe at the cardboard. "Are we keeping you out of trouble or getting you into it, buddy?"
The cat only yowled again, and Fred, for her part, agreed.
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anincompletelist · 3 days
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twenty questions for fic writers
thanks to @cricketnationrise @happiness-of-the-pursuit @kiwiana-writes
@ninzied @captainjunglegym for the tags friends! it's been a while since I've last done one of these so I figured I would participate again! xx
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how many works do you have on ao3?
56! (technically 60 though… 😏🤫)
what's your total ao3 word count?
1,248,687
what fandoms do you write for?
RWRB (currently) [ 1D and teen wolf (past) ]
top five fics by kudos:
but if you could see us from a distance you'd know I've always been so close to you - the og sex curse one shot
Something Borrowed, Something Blue - enemies to lovers at june's wedding
I'll bet it all on me and you, I'll bet it all you're bulletproof - coworkers trivia fluff
praying our bridges don't make waves - soulmates with a twist
kiss me like you've got nowhere to be - roommates to lovers fluff
do you respond to comments?
nowhere near as much as I'd like to! my capacity for social interaction lately has been... lacking, to the say the least ksjhdkshd BUT I SEE AND READ THEM ALL AND I HOLD THEM SO CLOSE <3333
what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
ooh I can't usually do angsty endings so I'm carving my own loophole here -- the first two fics in the sex curse series are definitely my most angsty endings before they work their shit out in the third skjdhsjkhd
what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
most of mine do, but I'd say that overall the most fluffy ones are in the firstprince first kisses series!
do you get hate on fics?
I most definitely did in my old fandom but people have been generally very kind and supportive to me here so far! :')
do you write smut?
yes!
craziest crossover:
my george x firstprince hurt/comfort is very special to me <3
(but I also have a Jeff from bottoms x Shane from minx au in the docs so ksjhdhfjh that too)
have you ever had a fic stolen?
I hope not!
have you ever had a fic translated?
not in this fandom! but I have had some lovely folks record some podfics of my works! (here and here!)
have you ever co-written a fic before?
not for rwrb! (yet???? ksjhdkjhfkjh)
all time favorite ship?
I gotta go with fp! they got me like that niall horan ear crawling gif fr I'll never be the same
what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
oh gosh I'm not sure. I HOPE I finish them all but I also have an obscene amount so ksjhdksjdhf not crossing anything off yet!
what are your writing strengths?
I think dialogue? it's always the part of my fics that I write first, and then I build the rest of the story around it. I hope it's a solid foundation!
what are your writing weaknesses?
there's a fine line between explaining and over-explaining and I think sometimes I fall into the second category skjdhkjhf. I love some introspection as much as the next guy but I'm working on only including details that feel most pertinent to the story.
thoughts on dialogue in another language?
I love it! I think it can be so special and can be another way to connect readers with the characters and the story. I took Spanish all four years of high school so I'm a little rusty now, and studied French for a while a few years ago and just picked it back up recently! my translations aren't always perfect but luckily I've had some very kind people to check or point these things out for me :)
first fandom you wrote in?
..... hollywood heights sjkhdjkhgdfh
favorite fic you've written?
oh no. I am so bad at perceiving myself ksjhdjkdjfhg. I think each of my fics definitely served a purpose for me while writing them, but lately I've found myself returning to these three (I'm breaking the rules yes sorry):
Something Borrowed, Something Blue
there were pages turned with the bridges burned (everything you lose is a step you take) - diabetic!Alex
treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet -(soulmates)
but also there's a wip I'm working now which..... might take first place when I post skjdhkjsdh WE'LL SEE!
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PLEASE PLEASE CONSIDER THIS OPEN TAG IF YOU'D LIKE TO DO IT! with all of the tumblr nonsense and how behind I've been on here lately I'm all over the place with tags at the moment.
other tags (no pressure!): @firenati0n @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @thedramasummer
@heysweetheart-writes @stellarm @suseagull04 @bigassbowlingballhead
@eusuntgratie @magicandarchery @read-and-write- @iboatedhere
@anchoredarchangel @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @alasse9 @itsmaybitheway
@getmehighonmagic @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse
xx
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andthebeanstalk · 11 months
Text
Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
#hlep#original#mental health#my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it#i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support#and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of#huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the#longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel#i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop
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themthistles · 1 year
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i think that while micro labels can seem useful and affirming ultimately they're isolating and kind of an obstacle to your understanding of self. that's because you can never find a word specific enough. there will never be a label or two labels or even ten, twenty of them to perfectly capture and describe all of your thoughts, feelings, experiences, preferences, needs, interests, identities, etc. because you learn more and more about yourself every day and then you change and your wants and needs change with you. having to hop between labels, fearing that you don't 'fit' into a label anymore (both in your own and others eyes), worrying how soon your current label will wear out, questioning if you'll ever fully fit a single one. all that causes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety which could be avoided by just picking a more general thing and molding it according to what it means to YOU. because words will always mean different things to different people, you will never be understood immediately and maybe never completely by anyone but yourself and that's fine
#another thing is that micro labels often feel like they fracture the community unnecessarily#idk how many times i've seen fighting over hyperspecific ace labels and what they mean and if people described in them even belong#and honestly i think this discourse wouldn't be so vile and neverending if people accepted the idea of falling under general umbrella#and accepted that you can't describe complicated weird and wonderful act of human existence with a couple of words#you don't need to explain yourself to anyone#i know in our present pronouns/sexuality/gender in bio carrd era it feels like you have to but you really don't#people aren't entitled to a short summary of your inner world and you can't speed run connection#also feel the need to say: i have nothing against people who use micro labels#if you feel like your micro label describes you perfectly? i'm really glad and happy for you#i'm just expressing my own thoughts and feelings that come from personal experience with exploring these things#at some point i started doubting if i could call myself a lesbian#i thought oh i'm not exactly what a lot of people generally think of when they hear that word#oh they'll misunderstand and i'm not being my 'true self' i'll find a word that fits me exactly if i just keep looking#and then i found out being aroace is a thing and boy did that add a lot of anxiety and confusion to the pot#i didn't feel like i fit in with both communities wasn't lesbian enough wasn't aroace enough#but at some point i just got tired of trying to justify myself to others and to myself#identities aren't houses you live in they're more like seas or rivers flowing into one another#and spaces where they intersect are vague and hard to define and they shift and change and this metaphor is getting away from me#basically#words are complicated#but they're the only direct way we humans can communicate#it is what it is#so make art#a lot of it#oh also unrelated but if you ever tell older queer folks that they're using wrong words to describe themselves i am going to jump you
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dirtytransmasc · 8 months
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Are yyou team green or black? And why?
team green, though I'm not in support of every green character (namely Otto though my opinion of him is complicated. I also have opinions on Aegon and his characterization that makes it even more complicated)
[I have only read bits and pieces of the book, so my opinion is based almost solely on the show. keep this in mind]
I'm team green for 3 big reasons. they're more complex, thought not perfect by any means, more morally "right", and are simply more my vibe when it comes to characters. now this is very simplified and not at all nuanced, so stick with me for a minute.
Firstly, they're more complex. the greens have very deep, detailed, and nuanced lives and stories that lead to them being very complex characters that can't be put into a box. Alicent was a child bride who had lost her mother young became a mother young and suffered at the hands of power and men all her life. her children were affected by this and the world they were forced to grow up in throughout their lives. even individually her kids are drastically different; aegon the child who was forced into a life he did not want and suffered due to his father neglect and mother pain. Helaena who was never understood and grew up treated like an oddity. Aemond who was never seen to his full potential, always ignored or looked over, angry throughout his life. each of them has strengths and weaknesses, flaws and benefits, they're imperfect but never completely horrid. they're also never simplified (not entirely, even when the plot and writers seek to simplify them) to the point that they put on a moral pedestal or made straight evil (i'd even argue that the attempts of the writer to oversimplify them as evil and in the wrong makes them 10x more fascinating). I find TB characters tended to miss the mark on that, always put in the moral light, not even allowed a moment to reflect on their actions, lives, or positions in any nuanced or meaningful way, so they always just feel dull. they're also out on a moral highground that they can never be budged from, which makes them harder to like and honestly, really boring. they get away with everything instead of being emotionally and morally nuanced.
secondly, they're more morally "right". I will never say that any of the greens are perfect, they are far from it (with the exception of Helaena and her kids, who have done literally nothing to anyone, but I digress). what I will say, 9/10 times there is some level of reasoning that has some level of reasoning. Alicent always tries to do whats best for everyone, all throughout the series she tried to do best by the court, the king, her children, the realm, and Rhaenyra. did she always succeed? no, but she always tried and her mistakes were almost always honest. I will say she held resentment towards Rhaenya, but honestly, I can't blame her. Rhaenyra's lies and behavior hurt Alicent over and over again so for her to be angry is expected.when it came to succession, Alicent backed Rhaenyra until it was made clear she and Daemon would be a threat to her children's lives and even than she held mercy for Rhaenyra. Aegon's drinking can be blamed on the abuse and neglect he suffered at Viserys, Otto, and Alicent's (though the abuse and neglect from his mother is insanely different and nuanced. she perpetuated her pain onto him because she couldn't heal herself. so I hesitate to call it abuse, cause its so much more complicated than that) hands. though nothing will justify his rape of Dyana, I personally think it was a bad add in on the writers part, and leave it at that. Aemonds rage after years of being ignored doesn't entirely justify what he did to luke, but he had reason for his cruelty after years of Luke (and jace tbh) being cruel just because they could. TB characters tend to do terrible things in response to either A. nothing B. their own terrible things. Daemon kills who he wants when he feels like it, even for stating facts. Rhaneyra will lie and hurt those around her to protect her bastard children. both of them conspire to protect themselves and allow themselves to be wed, really just cause. while there are times they have their reasons, its a lot less of the time, and typically the backing to their actions, is they were trying to unbury themselves from within their own graves. (to preface, I don't care about rhaenyra sleeping around, it doesn't bother me, but its the fact that she will hurt everyone around her to protect her lies, allowing a child to be maimed and people to be murdered)
thirdly, they're my vibe. I like morally complex character, who are, to be frank, pathetic. I like characters with complex trauma's and issues, who aren't perfect people but its not entirely their fault. I would much rather watch a whole show about alicent, a child bride who tries so hard to be a good wife, queen, and mother while not prepared for any such role. Aegon who is a boy with severe mommy and daddy issues, a drinking problem, a flawed past, and constantly wet eyes. Helaena an ignored girl who has suffered for no better reason then her family. and Aemond, a boy who was tormented, bullied, maimed, and made stronger by it at the cost of his compassion and emotional stability - over a nepo baby who was coddled by her father, her murderous husband with a knack for unneeded violence, and her similarly coddled children (the show boiled them down to this, in my opinion). one is simply more up my alley than the other. I want character that need to be dissected, who have suffered, who hurt me to look at.
also, team black created almost all of their own problems. seeing as the main source of contention had to do with Rhaenyra's kids being bastards, which was Rhaenyra's problem, which she caused, and kept digging and digging that grave (faking Laenors death just so she could marry daemon, turning the blame on aemond when luke maimed him furthering the divide amongst the house, trying to wed Helaena to Jace putting her in danger, trying to take the driftmark throne and killing Vaemond for a claim her sons did not have, etc,) till viserys's death, earns her a lot less pity from me. at the end of the day, her being a woman was only a needle in a haystack worth of problems she caused herself that hurt her claim. if she had just strived to create to connection with ancient and her kids, and didn't make herself look like a threat to everyone who lessened her claim (which alicents kids would be the first people to be taken out) alicent would have backed like she had all season and there would have been no war, maybe conflict, but no war.
theres also the effect of the fans on my opinion. I have faced more cruelty, terrible media analysis, and outright ableism/misogny/(blood and sexual based) purist ideology/etc. from the TB fans then I have ever witness by TG fans. TB fans have ruined almost all of the TB characters for me in more ways than I can count, so I will say I am very biased.
thats why I'm team green. as a whole they are simply more appealing, their stories are more interesting, demand more attention to detail and emotional understanding, and from my point of view were the "right" side to be on in the war (the war was wrong on both sides, but my chips lie in the favour of the greens).
#THESE ARE ALL MY OPINIONS IF YOU DONT LIKE IT IGNORE THIS POST. MY ACCOUNT. MY EXISTENCE AS A WHOLE.#BETTER YET. IF YOU REALLY DONT LIKE MY OPINION. BLOCK ME.#I dont want drama. so dont bother me if you disagree#and to clarify discourse and conversation (even if we disagree) =/= arguing. name calling. harassment#if you can be constructive and respectful even while disagreeing your fine to stay#(the fact I have to clarify this in this fandom is embarrassing...)#defintly could have gone more in depth and better explained some things#but I'm tired and know if I don't answer this now I won't ever cause I'm a chronic procrastinator#so this is the best y'all are getting#the pity I have for all of them compared to any of the TB fans is honest to god my entire reasoning#but so many people don't understand them at all so I can't just say that#and I say this as someone who on my first watch was swayed by the intentional moral framing to hate the Greens and support the Blacks#with my whole chest. but I've grown and reflected and rewatched the show and realized I was wrong.#so I've been on both sides of the argument#I know what I'm taking about#pro team green#pro alicent hightower#I'm damn near anti TB/Rhaenyra#but I say lukewarm feelings on them to be more accurate#alicent hightower#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aemond targaryen#helaena targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#daemon targeryan#luke velaryon#jace velaryon#not tagging TB I like my life and sanity#they're so mean all the time and in the last week I've been harassed by them multiple times
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da-proti-toku-grem · 15 days
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why can't anyone understand that everyone is different and not everyone likes the same things and that it's completely okay AND normal for someone not to like going out and preferring to stay at home :/
#honestly i understand that my parents care about me and they don't want me to be feeling bad#and that they ask me bc they just want to make sure i'm okay#but i've explained to them what i feel like and they just don't get and i get mad but i akso know it's not their fault and just... oughhhhh#like yeah i have a weird kind of social anxiety according to my therapist and even she doesn't know exactly how to help me yet#but there are just so many reasons behind why i don't like going out and it's not just bc it gives me anxiety#or why those situations give me anxiety in the forst place#1. i'm just a very introverted person that doesn't like going out#2. crowded places/closed spaces/places where there's not enough ventilation/loud places (be it people talking or just music) overwhelme me#3. all said in 2 + flashing lights give me huge migraines that can linger for over 3 days#4. i am very much a night owl and i'm forced to live in a society where that isn't fucking acceptable apparently and i'm called lazy for -#- not being productive in the morning when the only reason behind it is that i am a lot more productive at night#but no one ket's me do that bc 'why are you doing stuff when you're supposed to be asleep?'#i have been the same since i was little. literally nothing has changed#and people where always like 'oh she's just shy'#but idk wtf changed#maybe it was that i became and 'adult' or maybe the fact that i started therapy and they told my parents that i have social anxiety. idk#but suddenly every single person in my family is worried about it and they're genuinely making me feel like there's smth wrong about me#i mean. i have my problems i'm not gonna go telling you that i'm perfect bc i'm pretty much not#but is there really smth that wrong with me that i need to fix#or is society just a bitch that doesn't understand that there's different kinds of people and everyone is different & IT'S COMPLETELY OKAY#have they ever thought about the fact that maybe these situations cause me anxiety bc i've been forced all my life to do them#even if i don't like them#instead of thinking that i don't like them BC they cause me anxiety??#i mean. i know i have to go out more and that there's tons of things i can do ofc#but you can't just force me to do things i don't want to and put on a good face while doing it *every.fucking.day*#aaaaand i could add a lot more things but i'm once again reaching the tag limit so i shoukd just shut up#it's just driving me crazy bc i know they're trying to help but it really is not helping at all.............#ranting
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