#instead of replying this is what I've been doing

[idle-vapourings]

This is so real.

for myself, I've just had to realize when I'm talking to someone who has no desire to understand me.

because yeah, ableist people be ableist, bigots be bigots, selfish people be selfish, and it will be a losing game every time trying to make them come around.

i had this happen with a friend who had hurt my feelings. I kept it very short and polite because I didn't want to be angry with her or make her feel bad. and then she interpreted that negatively and had a lot of questions for me about my feelings. so i tried to take that in good faith, and explained myself in more detail. I tried to be both empathetic but clear, but really explain and answer her questions. she kept asking me to explain my feelings and at some point I felt that I was being asked to justify having an emotion, which I explained why that hurt. She wasn't getting it, so I explained with more words in an attempt to be clear while being honest how what was happening was frustrating and hurtful to me. she took that as aggression and an unwillingness to work things out with her (the precise thing I was attempting to do). and then she blocked me.

that stung and for a while i thought, hm did i fuck up. but the thing is, no i didn't. really, what it was about is that she refused to accept that she had done something hurtful. so the issue wasn't how i was communicating. it was that she refused to accept a world where she hurt my feelings - even if I had told her it was okay and that I know she didn't mean harm and that I had moved on. Instead, she needed to dissect why I was hurt to begin with and challenge it, rather than accepting that she was a human being who made a mistake. that person wasn't interested in my feelings or my take on the situation. they were interested in being right. and when they couldn't find a path to that with me, they just bounced.

I've also had this happen when requesting disability accommodations after getting a job offer. I requested clarity. I got obtuse replies. I gave more clarity. I got more obtuse replies. That was interpreted as me not wanting to participate in a good faith process. The reality was, the process was not good faith, and it never would have been, no matter what I said.

This feeling of no matter what you say it being wrong can be crushing and frustrating. because at least for me, I feel my autistic brain is really set on there being a solution, a right way to say something to get through to someone or to bridge a connection. and a sincere desire and deep need to be understood and heard. what I've had to come around to is that... sometimes people do not want to hear me. and if they don't, yeah, no matter what I choose, it results in misunderstanding.

I give it a genuine good go once or twice but if they're still interpreting me in the worst faith way possible or choosing to not really hear me then, yanno, time to not bother talking to someone who isn't listening and go talk to someone else worthwhile. I just try to remember that the failure is not mine, here. Someone who doesn't want to listen will never hear me. And people who don't actually want to hear me are never, ever worth my energy in the long run.

The people who really want to listen are out there. I say my thing, I be myself, and I see what the other person does with it.

I LOVE being autistic and trying to communicate because every time it’s

[hard-core-super-star]

cards on the table [L.Calderu]

pairing: lilia calderu x vampire!reader

summary: the morning after, you can't bring yourself to leave lilia again. instead, you let the desire you still feel for her take over.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> morning sex; mommy kink galore [because it's lilia, duh]; SO much biting [because vampires duh]; desperate switch!lilia is SO important to me; grinding; making out; unholy uses of magic; fingering; praise kink go brrr; lilia's boobs deserve their own warning fr; plot and feelings randomly thrown in because i can't write porn without it; so much banter

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: HELLO! this part took longer than i planned but i'm really happy with how it turned out. i couldn't write vampire!reader without throwing some smut in before more plot 😌i'm having a lot of fun writing for lilia so i hope i've delivered. as always, my inbox is open and i hope you enjoy <3

part one |

* * * * * * *

When your eyes open, the first thing you see is the way the sunlight bounces off the ceiling. Unlike what most vampire myths said, you weren't afraid of the sun. At least not any more than a mortal with secrets made far too vulnerable by the light.

The second thing you notice once your eyes focus and your mind starts clearing is the comfortable weight settled on top of you. Reality's quick to crash into you after that.

For some reason, you had expected Lilia to be up and about by the time morning came. Even though she had made fun of you for wanting to run away, she was the same way. Actually, she tended to be worse. But of course, she would never admit it, preferring instead to throw the blame on you.

Seeing her like this, though, soft and vulnerable, reminds you why you hated leaving her in the first place. While you knew it had to be done, it didn't change how awful you felt about it. How lonely the years that have passed have been.

"How are you already so tense?" Her words break the silence and draw a sigh out of you. It really isn't fair how easy she can read you, even now.

"I'm just not used to waking up under a beautiful woman," you reply, the corners of your mouth tugging up into a lazy smile.

"I find that very hard to believe, sweetheart."

You suppress the urge to laugh and instead give in to the easy atmosphere. "Ouch, are you calling me a whore, Madame Calderu?"

The eyeroll you earn yourself is more worth it. "I'm calling you charming, my dear."

"Oh, my mistake."

She laughs, the sound rich and soft and capable of turning all your thoughts to mush in a second. "I've missed this."

You know what she means, but you don't allow yourself to linger on her words too much. A part of you feels undeserving. It wasn't like you didn't have good reason for leaving and yet…the guilt threatens to swallow you whole.

"Insulting me?" You ask as your fingers draw random patterns on her back. The fabric of her robe is thin enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin beneath it.

With a soft sigh, she lifts herself enough so she can stare down at you. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes are as soft as her smile. "Laughing with you."

It's impossible to ignore the truth in her tone. "Yeah, I guess that's nice too."

"You guess?" She responds, attempting to sound offended. It doesn't work very well, though, since she's still grinning too hard. "You're a hard woman to please, my darling."

It's impossible to stop yourself from laughing at that. "You of all people should know that's not true."

Instead of instantly replying, she allows her eyes to drift down your face, lingering on your lips. You're not sure if she knows exactly what she's doing, but you do know you can't stop yourself from craving more.

And you can't even be mad at yourself for it.

You never even tried to lie about your feelings for her. Even after the visions, the prophecy, the knowledge that she'll be your undoing, you still love her. You've always loved her. How can you fight against that part of your fate?

One of your hands comes up, fingers slowly grazing against the side of her neck. The only thing left of your bite is the memory and yet she still shivers. Still leans into your touch.

"y/n," she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"I find that very hard to believe," you reply, your voice just as soft as hers.

She lets out a soft huff of air, something halfway to a chuckle, before you steal whatever teasing words were on the tip of her tongue away with a kiss.

Despite how strong your longing for her has been, you still surprise yourself. You almost assumed you'd walk out of her life again without doing exactly what you'd been thinking about since you left.

Clearly, you're a fool in more than one way.

Your fingers move back to tangle in her hair and even though you try to keep yourself in check, you can't. You want more. Need her in ways that scare you and excite you at the same time.

Lilia pulls away from the kiss, her heaving breaths fanning across your lips. "I missed this too."

"I missed you," you admit, your face warming up exponentially.

It's dangerous to say it out loud, but there's no use in hiding. Not when her eyes can see everything you don't say. Everything you feel without meaning to.

"Yeah?" Her head tilts to the side, wide pupils scanning your face. "Show me."

You grin, sharp teeth poking out from under your top lip. "Gladly."

Your hands travel down her body in an instant and your fingers grasp the fabric of her robe. A laugh escapes her as you hurry to slip the garment off of her, shifting around until your lips can meet the exposed skin of her shoulders.

"Impatient as always, little one?" She questions, using her words to distract you from the way she's moving above you. It's subtle, but you can't ignore the feeling of her heat pressing against your thigh.

"Only when it comes to you."

You let your fangs graze her skin, dragging along her shoulder blade until she's shivering above you. The urge to bite her is far stronger than it should have been considering how much you'd drank the night before. Then again, your thirst for her has always been stronger than anything else. Including your common sense.

"Such a flatter," she mutters.

Her hands move to her robe, helping you get the rest of it off, while your attention is captivated by her warm skin. You sink your teeth into her shoulder, not hard enough to actually draw blood, but enough to feel the connection that thrums beneath your veins.

"And so eager too," Lilia hums.

There's no way you can deny her claim. Especially with the way your hands start exploring the newly revealed contours of her body. Your fingers trace the lines of her muscles, mapping out the freckles you can't see but know are there.

As much as it pains you, you remove your fangs from her without drawing any blood, focusing on her hunger instead of your own. "I'm not the only one, I think you're soaking my pants."

"Oh, very funny." Her voice lacks humor but her eyes dance with a mischief she was sure she'd lost years ago. "Maybe if you weren't so preoccupied with biting me, I wouldn't have to be doing all the work by myself."

"All the work- oh-"

Your question is answered by the way she shifts her hips, slowly grinding against your leg. One hand lands on her hip to steady her as she sits up slightly to get better friction. You move with her, rising into a slightly uncomfortable position just to latch your mouth onto her chest.

"There you go," she coos. "You remember what mama likes?"

You don't think you could forget if you tried.

Your lips wrap around one of her nipples, feeling it harden under your tongue. Her back arches into your touch and you can't stop yourself from letting your teeth graze her sensitive skin.

The noise she makes in response is more than enough of a reward, but then her hand tangles in your hair and pulls you closer. "Fuck, darling. You're so good for me."

Her whimpered praise sends sparks of electricity up your spine. Not even your own pleasure can distract you from your mission, though.

One hand stays on her hip, slowly guiding her movements when her hips stutter, and the other one comes up to toy with her other breast, lavishing both of her nipples with the attention you know she needs. If your mouth wasn't so busy, you would have teased her for how frantic her movements against you are.

And she was making fun of you for being eager.

"y/n," she whispers, her voice shaking almost as much as her thighs.

All you do is hum, biting down on her nipple just enough to hear her gasp. Her movements speed up and you double your efforts, flexing your thigh and pushing up into her as much as you can.

It makes you a little dizzy due to the proximity but you force your eyes to travel upward until you can take in the curve of her neck and her parted lips. The puffs of air she lets out sound more like whines than anything and you let them wash over you like a wave.

You wait until she starts muttering curses beneath her breath to move again. Your hand leaves her breast and glides down the front of her body, easily slipping under the waistband of her ruined underwear.

You detach yourself from her nipple only to trail kisses up the valley of her breasts. "Cum for me, mama, I know you need it."

Your fingers press against her swollen clit and you watch as her whole body shudders in response. It's the most beautiful sight you've seen in years.

You work her through her orgasm, feeling as she soaks your fingers and her underwear all in one go. It's sinful and delightful all at the same time.

When she slumps forward, worn and overly sensitive, you instantly wrap your arms around her waist and lie back against the couch once more. For a moment, it's like no time has passed at all. Like you managed to cheat both time and space just to be with each other.

As silly as it might be, you allow yourself the fantasy.

Your lips press against her temple as the two of you lay there, her head on your shoulder and her nose nuzzling your jaw. As hard as it is, you don't move. You don't dare break the moment.

Because you know once you do, you won't get to have her like this again.

The runes may be strong and the wards may pulse with life every time you make her heart skip a beat, but you're being hunted. And every second you spend with her only puts her in more danger.

You know that.

But then she's shifting again and her lips find yours and it's hard to think about anything else except her.

When she pulls away, you're both breathless, gripping onto each other like you're afraid you'll disappear. The helplessness that simmers beneath the surface is hidden well under desire and desperation, but you can still feel it. Thrumming to life after every kiss.

"You were so good for me, angel," she murmurs, almost like she doesn't want to risk breaking the moment by being too loud. "Let me make you feel good."

"Yes please," you reply as your arms wrap around her neck to keep her close.

To your surprise, she makes no move to make fun of you for how clingy you are and instead her arms move down your arms, caressing your skin like she's commiting every touch to memory. You don't doubt she is.

Once she reaches your shirt, she simply smirks down at you and with a flick of her wrists, your clothes dissapear. "Cute trick."

Lilia just raises an eyebrow at you, hovering over you with a borderline dangerous glint in her eyes. "Trick? Are you insulting my magic, little one?"

"Oh, I would never dare," you tease.

Of course, she doesn't believe you, and you honestly don't blame her.

"You just can't stop yourself from being a brat, can you?" Her question is completely rhetorical, especially considering her next idea.

She hovers above you, watching your face closely as one of her hands trails down your body to the heat eminating from between your legs. Her fingers part your folds, revealing your clit to her before she murmurs something ancient under her breath. You have no idea what she's doing…until you feel a sudden shock on your clit.

"Lilia-" you gasp, your thighs attempting to close.

She clicks her tongue in dissaproval as she lands a warning smack to your inner thigh. "Don't you dare close them, I'm just getting started."

Your cunt clenches around pure air at that and the pleasure sends another shock-like sensation through your cunt. You quickly realize you don't mind, though, as the pain morphs into unbelieable pleasure.

"Oh, fuck."

"You read my mind, baby."

You don't get anther second to react before two of her fingers are teasing your already sensitive clit, pressing down until your thighs shake and then moving down to gather your wetness on the tips.

She's absolutely playing with you and you can't find it in yourself to mind. Not when the way she toys with you feels so damn good.

"Please," you all but whimper. "More."

"Always so needy, it's adorable."

You whimper again and she finally takes pity on you, sliding those same two fingers into your wet cunt. It only takes a few thrusts and another well placed shock for you to near the edge.

"Mama- please-"

"Already?" Despite her teasing tone, she can't hide her excitment. "You wanna cum for me, sweet girl?"

You desperately nod, your hips bucking up into her without meaning to as you chase your incoming orgasm. "Yes, need it, please."

"I've missed hearing you beg like that. Go ahead, baby, don't hold back."

She doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body instantly reacts to her, clenching uncontrollably around her fingers while her thumb plays with your clit. You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you and you're left whining and shaking underneath her.

She leans down to pepper kisses across your face, her tongue darting out to lap up the few tears that escape the corners of your eyes. "Always so sweet for me."

All you can manage are a few incoherent mumbles and she chuckles as she removes her fingers from between your legs. Another incantation is mumbled and the ache on your clit subsides.

"Better?" She asks, shifting around once more so she's on her side, arms bringing you closer to her.

You nod and mirror her, tucking your head beneath her chin and wrapping yourself around her warmth. "Did you melt my brain so I wouldn't leave?"

"Not on purpose," she replies with a laugh. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

You allow the question to hang in the air for a few seconds. There's nothing you want more than to stay. Not only are you technically still injured, you'll have to drink from her again soon or risk growing weak once more.

You know the risks, the ones that go beyond simply being a vampire in love with a witch. Between the Guild, your family, and the prophecy that looms over both of your heads…staying with her will do nothing besides bring you more pain.

And yet, the answer forms before you can stop it.

"Yes. But only because I'm still hungry."

Lilia knows you're lying, but she doesn't call you out on it. Instead, she simply holds you closer, her fingers tracing the area where you'd been stabbed by the Guild's hunter. "Just give me a few minutes, then we can get up."

You know she's lying too, but all you do is smile and burrow into her chest.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @p00ki3-m0nst3r

[vxnillabxn]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ steamy, suggestive! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ nsfw, mdni! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚so... i remembered i have free will, and honestly? the idea of dating an artist makes me WILD. plus, i DID say once he could ask me to roll around in paint and i would gladly obey, so why not write about it? enjoy! ♡

honestly, the way you two got entangled like this was blurry now.

it all started when he whined over the phone, saying he needed new paint to live, or he'd agonize slowly until the cruel, merciless destiny finally gave him the relief of death.

…and the paint shop was on your way back home, so why not buy him some?

when you finally arrived with two big bags of paint tubes and some colored shells for him to crush and get the pigment, he was awfully giddy.

like, humming, blushing, smiling like a fool.

it didn't make sense, until you saw the elegant crystal glass between his slender fingers. ah, alcohol.

was it wine? was it whiskey? was it vodka mixed with something else?

as you approached, he immediately looked at you and received you with open arms. in that moment, you caught a whiff of the mysterious concoction.

you didn't know what it was, but it was sweet.

“my pearl, my muse… did you get me what i asked for?”

you rolled your eyes, soon handing him the bags.

“how marvelous, i've been spared from a gruesome death!”

you kissed his cheek while nodding at his statement. playing along is kinda funny at times.

eventually, you curiously asked what he was drinking, but he didn't answer.

instead, he asked you to try it, and you did.

and it tasted divine.

also, without you even registering it, you too started getting giddy. you giggled at his words, felt your skin heating up, and got a bit more… touchy.

he was thrilled, of course, almost in heaven, if you will. and after laughing, drinking and kissing each other for a while, you finally saw his eyes.

uh-oh. you knew that gaze. you knew when he had a crazy idea, or —as he called them— inspiration boosts.

“raf, what are you…?”

he grinned, standing up quickly. he laid a rather large canvas on the floor, and then he took your hand, looking into your eyes with both excitement and mischief.

“undress.”

huh?

“please.”

he quickly added, upon seeing your furrowed eyebrows. without waiting for a reply, he started undressing himself first.

and you didn't know if it was because of the drink, or because you loved him so much, that you soon started undressing as well.

“close your eyes for me, my pearl.”

he requested, and you obeyed.

“raf, if you want to make love, you just have to say it.”

he shifted around, and you heard his clumsy footsteps, the sound of a bag being opened, and the faint noise of the paint tubes being squished.

you grew confused and impatient. plus, the sea breeze that leaked through the window was making your hot skin crawl.

“rafayel, this is getting ridi—”

cool, slick paint suddenly hit your back. you shrieked and jumped, opening your eyes immediately.

“what are you doing?!”

but he pressed his chest against your bare back, hugging you from behind and, effectively, coating both your bodies with the paint.

soon enough, his hands left cerulean handprints on your chest, your waist and your hips. he was caressing your body while kissing your nape, and you didn't know whether to be angry, confused or turned on.

obviously, after a few loving and soft whispers against your ear, you chose the latter.

how could you say no when he was rolling his hips back and forth against your backside so deliciously?

he spun you around to look at you, and now poured some of the paint onto your palms.

“your turn.”

you didn't waste a single second. your hands were all over him; his strong shoulders, his torso, his arms. hell, you even cupped his cheeks, because that flushed look he had created such a stunning view.

now, you began to question why he was coating your bodies in paint. well, when he laid you down on the canvas and hovered over you, you realized what was going on.

as he kissed you, hugged you, nuzzled against you…

and as he loved you, eventually putting you in different positions, you saw them.

you saw both your bodies imprinted on the canvas.

of course, there were different shapes —none of them identifiable—, but you could somewhat decipher when and how they were created.

after all, this art was your creation too.

he added more paint, more colors, more positions, more love.

and after hours of filling every single spot, until no white could be detected, he held you close.

he kissed your forehead and brushed some wet strands away, leaving trails of paint on your skin.

you both snuggled close, before you rested against his chest and closed your eyes.

however, he now nudged you just a bit.

you hummed in response.

“my pearl, you've been amazing. can't you be good for me a bit longer?”

he whispered, shaky breath, hazy eyes, nibbling on your earlobe as his hands kept caressing your half-cerulean-half-purple body.

“it's just… i still need to add the highlights.”

and that's when you realized… it was going to be a long night.

and you didn't mind if he used all the paint tubes in one sitting…

as long as he kept having these inspiration boosts.

[trannyradfem]

How does it do that when you have zero idea what we even believe in? You tell me the violence I suffered doesn't give me a free pass to "discriminate" but exactly what have I said that's even discriminatory? Seriously, name a single thing I've said here that's discriminatory. I'm waiting.

All I've said is that transfems do not have the right to harm us and get away with it. Exactly how is that non-inclusive? Exactly how does that "ignore" intersex people?

Also... "my binary"??? What are you even talking about. Can you please respond to something I've actually said?? I'm literally NB, GNC, and being worked up for intersex conditions. I literally didn't HAVE a proper puberty as a teen. I don't appreciate you passively misgendering me OR trying to speak over me as if I'm some ignorant outsider. I've been here for decades, hell, I've probably been trans longer than you've been ALIVE. Where do you get off putting these putrid words in my mouth?

Literally NOWHERE did I say transmascs need RF to save them. What I DID say is that if the trans movement keeps drawing dumb lines in the sand while allowing transfems to abuse transmascs scott free, there will be more of us RF trans people. That is a fact.

The trans community hates vulnerable minorities way more than RFs ever did, especially when it cannot even hold space for those harmed by it, or hold those who cause this level of harm accountable. RFs do Not want to erase trans people, and you'd know that if you actually read anything we DO believe in, instead of listening to the lies of the trans community that serve only to make you feel like you have no other option than to continue receiving gender-affirming abuse. Seriously, go read some Dworkin and tell me what you think. If you're brave enough.

It's never, "Who did that to you? We need to get them out of our community". It's always, "Suck it the fuck up and keep taking the abuse, because it doesn't happen often enough for me to personally care about it". You're a fucking fool if this is how you treat people, and yet you somehow think you've got the moral highground.

Trans women that mock us, degrade us, or try to trigger our dysphoria ARE NOT ALLIES. If that hurts trans people, then they need to stop siding with people who ACTUALLY HARM US instead of making feminists the scapegoat.

You don't have to tolerate being treated like that just because the community has lied to you and made you feel like nobody else will love or accept you for who you are.

Also, I literally have several transfem friends, one of which literally got me into RF LMAO. They are sick and tired of porn-addicted behavior and sexual harassment, and that being a part of transfem culture when it never should've even an acceptable benchmark. One of my transfem friends regularly comments on how dysphoric and uncomfortable she is in transfem spaces because of this consistent trend of NOT HOLDING ABUSERS ACCOUNTABLE. That shit literally HURTS TRANS WOMEN TOO. But for the record, I shouldn't fucking need a trans womans endorsement in order for my criticism on a community I literally belong to, to matter.

Hell, since posting my 1st reply, I've suddenly had a dump of 40+ notifications of new interactions with my blog overnight, with all but your response being solely positive, and the majority of the accounts belonging to trans people. People scrolling so far back on my blog that they reach posts from literal months ago, and then following me. Clearly, what I'm saying is resonating with others. Tell me why that is if I'm simply being "discriminatory".

You are just being so ignorant right now. This entire narrative you're trying to build even about me is built on nothing but assumptions and lies to the extent that you have even misgendered me. But you're the morally superior one? Yeah, right. Try again.

uvb76fan is posting in this tag talking about all the ways trans men have it “worse”, while misrepresenting the statistic she is citing. most likely banking on no one looking closer or reading the links.

this person is a terf. if you search trans on her blog it is immediately clear, i am not using terf loosely she is literally actually a terf.

we cannot let our weariness at not being heard by some of our community push us into the sick and malformed arms of transmisogyny and radical feminism, these people do not care about us at all, they are trying to harm every single one of us. our solidarity with trans women, men and people as whole should cause us to slam hard on the breaks. no matter how many trans women you see being antitransmasculine it does not mean that there are not so many more who are our genuine allies, do not let the algorithm pushing hateful person after hateful person your way skew your understandings. the transphobes want dissent, they want us to tear each other apart. we do not need to contribute to the harm to have ours lessened. (causing harm to a vulnerable minority is never morally correct no matter what got you there in the first place. also straight up trans women are easy to love and are inherently deeply deserving of community solidarity, and fascism (which terfs are) should not have any appeal whatsoever no matter how hurt you are but i digress.)

on another note: we cannot and must not reactively take on the mentalities of trans rad fems, no gender in the trans community needs to be the most oppressed to be taken seriously and given respect in our community, the equality in our suffering is immense and must be acknowledged without each group needing to prove we are the most victimized to get the care and community support we need. this is harmful no matter who is doing it. we absolutely must nip this kind of thinking in the bud.

push back on terfs in this tag everywhere you can, and if there is a reason you cannot comment or reblog to shut them down, block them on sight.

[sunnydbeam]

GUUHHHH thank you so much for all the kind words and encouragement! I would really love to be able to reply individually to each of you but I don't know what to say other than a BIG thank you! You guys are so sweet I'm crying ♡

I apologize for the negativity earlier, there was a lot going on, and one thing in particular triggered my anxiety and insecurities like never before; I couldn't help but suddenly be overcome with a certain jadedness about my own art and writing. God, I was spiraling so badly. Because of all this my inbox will remain closed for a while; sorry if you wanted to send any questions. Anyway, I'll answer to the ones I've already received.

I don't like to spread bad vibes anywhere. I'm aware that most of the time I choose to stay in the shadows, always running away from conflicts that only exist in my head. This is a small blog that easily goes unnoticed, but I can't for the life of me understand why there are people around here who choose to be mean for sport, not even shielded under anonymity anymore. I wish I could let it go, but this happens to me more often than I'd like to admit. And the worst part is that I don't know why. I want to believe that my blog is safe for everyone! But if at any point I've posted or said something nasty or offensive, I'm so sorry! It wasn't my intention! Ever since I started using Tumblr I've been struggling with this inherent social part of media; with every interaction the anxiety I felt was painful, but the moment I thought I was getting better at it, things would come crashing down every time.

I'm socially awkward and struggle with a non-native language, but I swear I want to be friends with all of you! I just wish I understood why some people choose to spew hate instead. What have I done, especially after creating my Gamma Code AU? It's been hell.

BUT. There are so many more of you who are the sweetest thing!! All the support and affection I feel from you melts me, I just want to hug you all against my chest so dearly. I wish I had the right words to express how much I appreciate you all! ♡♡♡♡

...

Lastly, I'd also like to draw a little line:

If you're here expecting or demanding Sun and Moon content in any way, do NOT FOLLOW ME. I love those two, but I'll draw them when I feel like it. I enjoy drawing my OCs and that makes me happy, so before you decide to throw shit at me and my blog in general, I invite you to think better of it and look elsewhere for content that better suits your tastes and needs, or create it yourself. From now on I will block anyone who comes to my blog with this kind of attitude. No "I miss when you used to draw Sun and Moon" or "For the good old days!". I will block you, no exceptions.

[legalandnotease]

Talking about casual ableism - I saw this post on Instagram about Sebastian talking about how he didn't get why the dishwasher scene in Thunderbolts was funny, and 99% of the comments were like '🙄 It is funny though - don't know why he was confused'. Then this one person went 'Yeah he's right it isn't funny it's disrespectful to him' and then they got several replies going 'Wow you need to learn how to take a joke! You're a lame snowflake with no sense of humour!' It really made me sick to my stomach.

With the arm removal scene in tfatws - one of the most common argument I saw was that Ayo was feeling hurt and betrayed and that's why she did. So apparently the hurt feelings of an abled bodied person are more important than a disabled man's bodily autonomy. That and they gave him the arm so he shouldn't have gone against them. I even remember this one post that tried to say the wakandans not telling Bucky about the 'fail-safe' was them being kind to him because they could've told him they didn't trust him but instead they let him think they did. The way people will bend over backwards to defend their fave is insane.

Also it feels gross to me that I've seen a lot of people labelling Bucky as 'violent' even though other mcu characters aren't seen as that. A lot of people confuse mcu Bucky and comics Bucky - who did the dirty work for Steve but that doesn't apply to the mcu. Another thing is the scene where Bucky tries to escape from the cops invading his apartment in civil war. This scene is used to describe how 'brutal and violent' he is . . . while using self defense against people trying to kill him. Not sure what else he was supposed to do in that situation. And I bet had it been Natasha and Clint cornered, they would've shot most of those cops and no one would've batted an eye. Maybe I'm reaching but it just feels weird to me that Bucky is the one labelled 'violent' out of everyone.

Also I did not know about Tony blasting his arm off was meant to be punishment. I knew about them putting him in cryofreeze was punishment cause they didn't want him running around with Steve or whatever. Who knew getting dismembered was the reward for killing someone while drugged and mind controlled. Wow.

Hi and thanks for the ask!

From what I've read I think Sebastian's main problem with that scene wasn't ableism per se but that he felt Bucky could be doing more and better utilized. He felt like it was a waste to have another arm gag- which is legit. I agree with him.

As to the comments- that is sadly typical. Far too many people think that because the MCU is "just fiction" its acceptable to make fun of and mock people in ways that would never be acceptable in real life.

They don't understand art imitates life: ableism can exist in the MCU because it exists in real life. And just like IRL people don't understand these "jokes" are incredibly demeaning and othering for people from certain groups.

With the arm removal scene in tfatws - one of the most common argument I saw was that Ayo was feeling hurt and betrayed and that's why she did. So apparently the hurt feelings of an abled bodied person are more important than a disabled man's bodily autonomy.

Yep, I've seen that many times. Its a messed up of looking at it. I tend to respond by asking them to imagine if someone took away Matt Murdock's sight stick or Dr X wheelchair because they were pissed with them. Would they consider that acceptable too?

That and they gave him the arm so he shouldn't have gone against them

That's the most troubling argument from my point of view. Its not just suggesting that disabled people don't own their prosthetics, its the context in which the arm was given to Bucky and the context in which it was removed. It was given in a fight and taken away in a fight. Like I get why T'Challa gave it to him when Thanos was coming and the world was at stake, I do. I am not blaming him.

Yet the fact still stands that the arm is really a means of weaponizing a part of Bucky's body. Which is exactly what HYDRA did thim. The idea that he had to use it in a certain way only renforces that: those people are saying his arm is a weapon and must only be used in a manner that the people how own him determine.

How is that any different to what HYDRA did to him? I definately prefer to think the Wakandans were happy to allow Bucky to keep the arm and use it for peaceful purposes, not making him use it for fighting all the time.

The last one is just plain silly.

Also it feels gross to me that I've seen a lot of people labelling Bucky as 'violent' even though other mcu characters aren't seen as that.

Yeah that one is just annoying. The Winter Soldier is violent, Bucky isn't. There's a lot of problems with people confusing Comic Bucky with MCU Bucky as well. They're basically two totally different characters.

Another thing is the scene where Bucky tries to escape from the cops invading his apartment in civil war. This scene is used to describe how 'brutal and violent' he is . . . while using self defense against people trying to kill him. Not sure what else he was supposed to do in that situation.

Ugh THIS. I saw a series of stills from that scene and one of those cops was gonna shoot Bucky in the head at point-blank range with a semi-automatic weapon. Its a terrible example to use because... who is gonna let someone put bullets in their skullh? That's right. Nobody.Actually, I don't think there's a single instance of Bucky fighting in anything other than self-defense for that entire movie.

The problem is that they're cops and we're conditioned to believe cops are "good guys". Also its not made clear at that point if Bucky actually did the bombing or not. There's this idea that maybe he deserves it (he doesn't).

You're right though: Bucky was making a conceted effort to not kill anyone, whereas other characters have no such qualms when they are threatened.

And I bet had it been Natasha and Clint cornered, they would've shot most of those cops and no one would've batted an eye

Look I love Natasha to an insane degree, but you are correct. There's a scene in Iron Man 2 where she breaks into Justin Hammer's warehouse and fights gauards. Let's just say she kills a couple of them in a *very* brutal way. She garotes him and leaves his body hanging from the ceiling.

There's also a line in Black Widow which suggests she and Clint had a shoot-out with Hungarian cops when he helped her escape the Red Room. Nobody bats an eyelid at either.

Yet if Bucky did those things.... yeah he'd be condemned.

Also I did not know about Tony blasting his arm off was meant to be punishment. I knew about them putting him in cryofreeze was punishment cause they didn't want him running around with Steve or whatever. Who knew getting dismembered was the reward for killing someone while drugged and mind controlled. Wow.

IKR? The thing that will never stop aggravating me is that no other mind-control victim in the MCU is treated in the way Bucky is. Clint kills like a ton of SHIELD Agents under mind control and they're like "don't you dare blame yourself" and never bring it up again.

Yelena and the other widows who were given a mind-control serum which overrode their free will? Nobody blames them and its never bought up again. Yelena gets "I look at you and don't see your mistakes". Clint gets "I don't judge you by your worse mistake".

Bucky? He has to be "punished" and "make amends" and nobody *ever* tells him to not blame himself or its not his fault. Quite the contrary in fact.

its almost as if some of the MCU writers just really hate Bucky.

[letsdosciencetoit]

I'm Where The Spiders Go - Chapter 1

I've gone ahead and started posting I'm Where The Spiders Go. I think the first part is going to be 12 chapters. This is more angst than "Sun in the Afternoon," so a bit of a different vibe.

Summary: Tommy doesn't take the step to transfer to Harbor Station. Without a vacant spot at the 118, Buck is hired on to the 122 instead. How do things change without the influence of the 118 on Buck's early career, and how does Tommy handle remaining in the closet.

Of course they meet a little earlier with the common connection of Sal Deluca.

On AO3: I'm Where the Spiders Go

Chapter 1: New Beginnings - 3557 Words - Chapter rating, M. Overall rating will be E.

Fall 2017

Evan finishes LAFD Fire Academy top of his class. Twenty-two weeks of his life that he’s dedicated to the academy while he tends bar.  He doesn’t make a big deal of it; the class ranking, not that he finished.  He’s going to celebrate the hell out of coming to the end of the training.  It’s the ranking portion that’s weird to him.  He was never the most academically inclined; got kicked out of community college.  No one ever described him as the brains of the operation.

He’d never been worried about the physical aspects, the fact that he excelled at the rest of it was as surprising to him as it was to the rest of the class.  The material was fascinating; it didn’t feel like work, he just wanted know more.  He wanted to learn the material, and understand the why about it, and why it mattered. 

He has the technical rescue and engineer specializations.  It makes him somewhat in demand, he knows, but no one can really tell him why one station is better than the others, so he knows he’s just going to sign the first concrete offer he receives.  The pay is the same anyway.  He just wants to do the job.  It feels right in a way nothing else has in his life.  He just knows he’s going to make a difference.

Connor claps him on the shoulder, leading him to the uber out front of their shared house. “You did it, buddy!  Drinks are on me!”

***9-1-1***

He ends up signing with the 122 for his probationary year. He’s given a start date, and the name of the captain. He parks his old jeep behind the station and takes a minute to psych himself up.  This is what he spent the last six months training for.  He steps out of the jeep, throws his bag over his shoulder, and forces his feet to move towards the station. 

The captain’s office is easy to find, and no one stops him as he walks up the stairs.  There are two men in the office, clearly shooting the shit.  The one behind the desk, the captain, has a grey hair, and a matching grey mustache. His face is lined with wrinkles, but the laugh lines and crows feet in the corner of his eyes make it obvious he is a man prone to smiling.

The other man is younger, but still older than Evan by several years at least.  He’s got dark hair, sharp cheek bones, and a strong chin.  He has strong shoulders and a broad chest; Evan wonders how much he can bench.

The conversation stops short when they notice Evan poking his head in the doorway.  He steps his whole body into the frame, trying not to hunch his shoulders.  “I’m Evan Buckley.  I was told to meet Captain Warren.”

“Ah, Buckley!  Good to have you here,” Captain Warren replies, the smile his face hinted at showing in full force.  “I’ve got my lieutenant, Salvator Deluca, here to show you around.”

Salvator outstretches his right hand, and Evan takes the hand in his own.  Salvator has a strong grip, and the force of the handshake threatens to pull him forward. Evan holds his ground, and meets the man’s eyes.  He sees the smile there first before it reaches Salvator’s face.

“Welcome to the 122, Evan,” Salvator greets.  “Everyone calls me Sal.  Let me show you around.”

“Everyone calls me Buck,” Evan replies, and falls into step behind Sal.

***9-1-1***

Buck doesn’t get let out on calls to start, but he gets very good at the chores.  He stocks the trucks and ambulance, cleans the washrooms without complaint, and gets to know the team’s lunch and coffee orders. 

There’s the hazing, or course.  Nothing harmful, nothing that would get him in trouble with the captain, but definitely pranks aimed to show him his place on the bottom rung of the ladder.  It reminds him of being asked to find the left-handed screwdriver when he was working construction. The worst he gets is wounded pride when he wears a little egg on his face.

Four weeks in, someone takes pity on him while they have downtime.  Buck’s been doing a lot of solo tasks around the firehouse; his just wrapped up cleaning the windows when he someone shouts his name from upstairs.

“Hey!  Buck!” he hears Oscar Serrano, one of the firefighter paramedics on the team calls down to him.  “You have any experience in the kitchen?”

Buck jogs to the stairs, then takes them two at a time until he’s up with Oscar.  “I worked as a line cook for a little.  I know my way around a knife.”

“That’ll work.”  Oscar gives him a grin, then reaches into the fridge and passes him two large trays of chicken breast.  “We’re making enchiladas today.  They’ll keep until we have time to bake them if we get called out, feed a crowd, and taste okay reheated.  Dice those and the onions over there while I prep the sauce.  You impress me and I might even teach you how to make my abuela’s sauce recipe.  It’s the worst kept family secret.”   

Buck sets the trays on the counter and searches for the knife and cutting board.  He lets Oscar dictate how fine the dice should be.  It’s more a rough chop, but he loses himself in the rhythm of the knife cutting through meat and vegetable as Oscar talks about his abeula’s kitchen on the holidays.    Buck feels a little wistful at the image Oscar is painting of a family together, gathered around food and celebration.  It’s completely different than the household he grew up in, where he was constantly shooed out of the kitchen while the adults were cooking.

He must do enough to impress Oscar, because the other man starts talking about the best place to buy the spices by the station, and lets Buck assist in assembling the enchiladas and loading them into the large aluminum pans.  They pour the large batch of sauce over them, and load them into the oven. 

As luck would have it, no calls come in while the food is cooking.  Buck helps Oscar prep a simple green salad, then they call the shift up to grab food.  Everyone slaps Oscar on the back, thanking him for taking the time to cook.  A few even thank Buck before grabbing their plates and taking seats around the lounge. 

Buck waits until everyone else has grabbed their food before dishing up a plate.  Oscar calls him over to where he’s sitting with Sal, so Buck dutifully joins them.

“Good job with these,” Sal acknowledges, gesturing to both of them with a loaded fork.  “You cook at home, Buck?”

Buck shakes his head, a little sheepish. “Nah. I’m currently living with 4 other guys.  There isn’t really a lot of space for cooking.”

“Damn shame if you ask me,” Oscar offers.  “With a little guidance you could be a natural in the kitchen.”

Sal laughs. “Gina does the cooking at home, but Oscar here is a regular Martha Stewart.  I think he missed his calling as a chef.”

Oscar shoves Sal’s shoulder for the comment, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable with the comment.  “I’m trying to channel Elena Reygadas – best food in Mexico city.  I’m leaving the baking and homemaking to Maria, my wife.  She’s a data analyst, but she has a much better eye for detail, so she’s the one you want if it needs to look presentable.”

Sal hums in agreement.  “That actually explains a lot about you, Oscar.  Can you ask her to make that Tres Leche again?   That shit is positively orgasmic.”

Buck lets the conversation wash over him.  Firefighting has felt like his calling, but for the first time the station feels like it might be somewhere he could belong.

***9-1-1***

The problem with so much down time being man behind is that Buck finds himself with too much time on his hands and not enough work to focus his brain on. 

He finds himself mindlessly scrolling on Tinder and Bumble.  There’s no shortage of attractive and available women in LA.  It doesn’t take him a lot of time or effort to find one that’s interested in hooking up with a firefighter. 

At first, he spends the time messaging the women about meet ups for drinks, and encounters when he’s off shift.  He’s honestly surprised at the number of women available after he gets off a 24 hr shift, although it tracks with the number of people working gigs and making their own hours. 

It feels good, for a little while.  After traveling across the country on his own, he thought he would enjoy living with the guys. There was always someone in the house, so he never had to be alone, but the togetherness lacked any kind of connection or intimacy.  He certainly gets the intimacy from these women, and he’s good at it, too. 

He’s always been good with women.  Not in the “I know the tricks to make sure I get laid,” kind of way, but in the, “women are people, too” way.  He’s always had female friends, in part because he’s always treated them as friends, rather than someone he was hoping to “get lucky” with.  He gets good at flirting, too.  Easy banter to test the waters and gauge their interest; he knows when to turn it on and dial it back based on the responses he gets.  It starts to be almost second nature to him.

The apps take the challenge out of it, to an extent.   He knows that they’re DTF right from the get go, and from there it’s just a matter of convincing them he’s not a creep and knows how to show them a good time.  The pictures he’s selected draw them in.  From there he just has to sound a step above coherent and not send an unsolicited pic.

Maybe that’s why he says yes to “MacAttack95” when she tells him through messages that she doesn’t want to wait until he gets off shift.  Her location has her nearby, she has an hour to kill, and she’s always wanted a tour of a fire house.  Buck is man behind again, the rest of the crew having just left for a multi-car pile-up that will probably take the rest of the afternoon.  The chores are up to date, supplies are stocked, and Buck is currently left to his own devices.

Mackenzie shows up and parks her sedan behind the station.  She’s dressed in business casual and looks even better than her profile picture.  It’s the way her brown hair is pulled back, the way she has a gap between her front teeth when she smiles at him.  He sees her clock the birthmark above his eye, but she doesn’t mention it.

“You ready for the grand tour?” he asks, sweeping his arm towards the station behind him.  Its devoid of vehicles, all hands on deck at the call.  She smiles anyway.

“Do I get to go down the fire pole?” She fires back with a grin.

Buck winks at her.  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

***9-1-1-***

Mackenzie is long gone before the engine, ladder truck and ambulance return.  All evidence of the encounter has been scrubbed clean.

Buck is in the washroom at the urinal when the door slams open and Sal comes to stand next to him.  He opens his pants to relieve himself without making eye contact.   His voice is soft and clear when he speaks.

“I don’t care what the fuck you do in your off time, Probie.  You keep your shit out of this fire house or your gone.”

***9-1-1***

Tommy gets off shift and begs off going out for drinks with Hen and Howie.  It’s been a regular occurrence, the three of them grabbing drinks.  Captain Nash has joined them on occasion, but more often than not he recuses himself. 

It’s getting more uncomfortable to go out with the team, though.  Hen has Karen and Denny at home, and Howie has been dating Tatiana for nearly a year.  He can’t say he loves who Howie is when he’s around Tatiana, but Howie seems happy, so he isn’t going to say anything.

The problem with happy people in love, however, is that they want everyone around them to find love, too.  Howie has been pointing out any woman at the bar who gives Tommy a second glance.  Tommy’s had years of experience deflecting, but there’s only so many ways he can decline an advance before people start asking questions.

Tommy’s been used to keeping his private life private, something easy to do under previous captains.  Since Bobby took over and introduced family meal time the 118 is starting to feel like more of a family.  And like annoying siblings, his colleagues are feeling more comfortable starting to pry into what he does on his off hours.

Only Sal had even known about Abby, so he couldn’t even use the excuse of their break up with the team.  It’s easier to just avoid going out, but he’s not ready to go home to an empty house.

Its why he finds himself walking into another badge and ladder bar, closer to the 122.  Sal and his team are off shift, taking up a booth near the bar, and there’s an empty seat next to Sal.  Sal catches him coming in and flags him down. “Yo, Kinard! Over here!”

Tommy offers a shake of his head, fond and exasperated with Sal’s vociferous greeting.  He jerks a thumb to the bar, and goes to order a pitcher of whatever the table is sharing and the house brand they keep on tap.  He’s been to the bar enough to know it’s a decent microbrew.  He comes to Sal’s table with the pitcher and his pint, and takes a seat next to Sal.

“Rough shift?” Sal asks. It’s not the first time Tommy’s come out with the 122, but it isn’t a common occurrence.  They used to see each other more frequently, but since Sal left the 118 and Tommy’s ex was friends with Sal’s girlfriend it made the potential get togethers a little fraught. As far as Gina knows, he and Sal barely talk any more. 

“No worse than usual,” Tommy replies with a shrug.  “Just needed a break from the cozy family shit they’ve got going on.”

“Nash still doing the ‘Family Dinners?’” Sal asks derisively.  Despite the good thing he has going for him as Lieutenant at the 122 he’s still bitter about being looked over for captain for the 118. 

“We eat as a team, and I can’t say I mind it too much.  Nash definitely has skill in the kitchen.”  Tommy leans back and pats his waist.  “My PT regime is thankful, too.  We used to do a lot of take out, and my metabolism is not what is used to be.”

Sal raises a glass to cheers. “To getting older.”

Tomy clinks glasses with him.  “What has you feeling like an old man?  I’ve seen how flexible Gina is.  I’d think that would help you feel pretty spry.”

Even as the words are coming out of his mouth, Tommy feels like an asshole.  He’s been getting better at the 118 about reigning in the “Good old boy” persona, but something about being with Sal makes him fall back into old habits.  He’s about to apologize, but Sal just chuckles.

“Fucking probie,” Sal groans. “He’s been hooking up with chicks at the station.”

Tommy nearly spits his beer.  “What!”

“Yeah. Not sure how long or how often, but we came back from a call and he definitely had the air of a man well fucked.”  Sal ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.  “I’ve got no proof, but I know it.”

“Well shit,” Tommy drawled.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“Fuck if I know.  Not like I can ground him and leave him behind,” Sal says with a dry laugh.  “It’s how we got ourselves into this mess.”

Tommy raised an eye brow. “You ever consider bringing him out on a call?”

***9-1-1***

The house is full when Buck gets home, a last-minute party in full swing.  There’s a throng of people in the kitchen, and the floor is sticky under his boots.  He hates wearing footwear through the house, but it’s becoming a necessity these days.  The house doesn’t get clean unless he cleans it, and he’s been coming up with more and more excuses to keep away.

He weighs the odds of his leftovers still being in the fridge against the need to make small talk with the people currently occupying kitchen.  He notices one of the girls clock his LAFD shirt, fitting a little more snugly across his chest since it was issued.  He’s exhausted, and he’s been spiraling since Sal cornered him in the washroom, but he knows what he looks like.  He also knows the look in her eyes. 

He’s still holding her gaze when Connor comes bouncing into the kitchen. “Buck!  You’re here!” he says with excitement.  “Everyone!  This is Buck!  He’s a firefighter!”

“Probationary,” Buck clarifies, but no one seems to care.  The attention is on him, and he has the choice between bowing out and heading to his room alone, or dialing it up and holding the attention he’s currently getting. 

He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now, so he lets himself be drawn into the conversation.  The girl, Sarah, introduces herself and makes her way to his side, pressing against his arm.  He has 96 hours off, so he accepts the solo cup of beer Connor presses into his hands, and he jokes, and he smiles, and he pretends like he isn’t constantly man behind at the station and like he isn’t skating on thin ice. 

The party starts to wind down, but Sarah shows no signs of getting ready to leave with her friends.  The moment comes when he could encourage her to get into the car with them, but instead he reaches out and gently tucks her hair behind her ear.  He lets his fingers trail along her jaw, and she leans in to seal her lips to his.

She’s quick to straddle him on the couch, and despite the fact that Connor and Kameron are the only others in the room, Buck isn’t in the mood for an audience.  He uses his hands to grip her thighs and stands up in one smooth motion. 

Sarah lets out a little squeal of delight and wraps her legs around his waist.  He keeps kissing her as he carries her up the stairs to the privacy of his bedroom where they can continue behind a closed door.

***9-1-1***

Buck is gone from the bed long enough to clean up and dispose of the condom.  When he comes back, Sarah is already dressed and tucking her phone into her purse. 

“Don’t feel like you have to leave now,” Buck offers, sitting on the other side of the bed.

“I already ordered an uber,” she explained, sweeping her hair off her neck and tying it effortlessly into a messy bun. 

Buck takes it as an invitation, and leans across the bed to press a kiss against the nape of her neck.  She sighs into it.  The bed dips as he settles his weight onto it, and tries to draw her in once again.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in staying the night?” he asks, half teasing, half serious.  It would be nice not to wake up alone.

She shakes her head and gets up from the bed, pulling away from him.

“This has been fun,” she says, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“Fun enough to give me your number?” he asks her.

She smiled at him, but he could tell she was turning him down before she even said the words.  “This has been fun, but let’s not pretend it means anything more than that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Buck agrees, tamping down any disappointment.  He’s great at reeling them in, but can’t do anything to get them to stick around more for more than a good time. He swallows and keeps his voice light.  “I’ll walk you out.”

He holds the door to his room open for her, and follows behind her as she walks down the stairs.  The floor in the kitchen is still sticky under his now bare feet, and he has to supress the full body shiver he feels at the unpleasant sensation.

The Uber is waiting for Sarah at the end of the driveway.  She doesn’t look back as she gets in the car, so Buck closes the door and turns the deadbolt.  From the kitchen, he can see Connor lying on the couch.  Kameron is asleep against him, and she doesn’t stir when Connor smiles and lifts a thumbs up to Buck.

Passing over the sticky floor once again, Buck decides to shower before going to sleep.  He turns the water as hot as he can stand, and scrubs at his skin with the soap until it’s red. He stays in the shower until the spray turns cold, but still doesn’t feel clean.

Tag List: @teabroomsandbooks, @adian-ua, @chococara25, @chemistry66 - drop me a comment if you want to be added

[selenepsyche]

A Message From Tarot Lexa (AKA Empress of Dragons)

Greetings Ladies and Ladies.....I have come with a message from Tarot Lexa, now known as @empress-of-dragons! I am delivering this on her behalf because @astrofaeology has her blocked (very odd). This is in regards to this post that Fae made about cyberbullying and doxxing in the astro community.

Lexa's Message

"I've asked @selenepsyche to post this since I wanted there to be a direct reply to this performative fake ass post. Come to find out through Selene that I got mentioned by an account who has blocked me while we NEVER even interacted firsthand (which is pretty bizarre if you ask me). I have a few ideas as to why you blocked me, but I'll refrain from sharing those at the moment."

"Now, I don't know who the fuck this is but let me make something clear: keep my name out of your fake ass performative fence riding nonsense when you don't even know ME, Selene, or Datura or anyone else involved, so stop acting like you do. What makes you think that I'm okay with being mentioned by a random stranger on a fake performative anti-doxxing/anti-cyberbullying post when you're ACTIVELY trying to discredit all the evidence selenepsyche, @daarlingdatura, and @teaonastro have presented? If you truly wanted to defend any of the victims, you would have done it right and not by being like "this isn't me picking sides" blablabla (and whatever excuse you used in this gaslighting 101 rambling). You're trying to pose as some neutral, reasonable person when you've done the complete opposite."

"Please actually think before posting something like this, either defend people the right way or just shut the fuck up instead of making phony posts for likes. And for the love of god, do not mention me ever again, especially if you blocked me and left me with no choice to reply."

That is her statement! I also agree with her though. This post does come off helpful, but backhanded. There are no "sides" in this. It's simply right from wrong. Let's not dismiss the issue and just call the shit out for what it has been and who it has been coming from. Fae, you may have good intentions but that could have been worded better.

dividers: @omi-resources pictures: Pinterest

[aeolianblues]

Totally, Python is a very powerful language! The thing is that the syntax is slightly closer to natural English where it will in some cases use "is" instead of "==", it doesn't have semicolons or "++" notation, and generally its style guides prefer a more human-readable syntax.

It also does a lot of abstraction/makes certain tasks easier with built-in functions and libraries that in older languages may have had to be written out by hand. It's also absurdly powerful for graphics, rendering and small-scale games.

The readable syntax and simplification of some tasks makes it an ideal language to teach beginners, and the first grumble comes from devs who think it's bad practice not to get learners into the habit of ending every statement with a semicolon by teaching them C or Java first. Some of them also don't want kids to get used to reading more insightful error messages that actually tell them what went wrong, only to face a "segmentation fault" error in the C-family of languages and have no idea what to do. (To which I say, have you used Python?? Plenty of opportunities for new and exciting kinds of errors you'd never deal with in other languages. Mate.)

At least those are kind of benevolent concerns. There is a certain kind of circlejerk dev that believes if you're not fighting for your life in an assembly-adjacent language that hasn't been updated since the 1980s, you're not hardcore, as it were. I've been coding since I was 11. I did C-style languages first. Hell, I did BASIC! Why on earth did they teach kids that. I'd take Python over like, COBOL or Pascal any day. I'd take Python over Java! It's good if we're making our languages easier to work with.

The only downside to a powerful language sometimes is that because of all these additions, Python can be a bit bloated and slow, and package sizes of shipped code can be larger the more libraries you have. But Java has the same problem, and the only solution to this would be if we all drowned in a world of raw C programming. No one wants that.

(Similar answer to what I gave in the replies, because it turns out everyone doesn't have deep StackOverflow/hackathon brainrot, and I am envious.)

PS: ChatGPT doesn't teach kids to code. 25,000 Pythons over ChatGPT writing their code.

I don't like that the dev community picks on people who are most fluent in Python, when the ChatGPT-using "vibe coders" are right there. At least Python babies are coding. Bully the non-coders instead.

[hauntsect]

Spin and spin, forget all your worries. Spin and spin, forget your identity. Step on my shoulders, do you see the new lovely, lonely, empty, heavenly world?

❥ ❝ Indie Scientists and Handler OC as portrayed by Kuroki. ❞

CAUTION: Dark Themes and Insect Motifs inbound. ♡ ,↺ and/or follow if interested ! ( promo template by supersources )

Captivating, hypnotizing, fascinating UTOPIA.

[byanyan]

i've changed my mind again!! i am, in fact, going to delete a fuckload of my drafts bc i am!!! not vibing with having all this old stuff & having it stopping me from starting new stuff!!!! this is the year where i finally say fuck it!!! i'm gonna run this blog the way i wanna and i'm gonna do what's the most fun for me!!!! ...not that i didn't enjoy any of the threads i have in my drafts bc i did, i just. i have to do something to get myself energized again and clean slate (mostly) is all i got rn askjfhds

i'm not deleting everything — i've got some specific verse stuff, some plotted and/or specific character moment things, and some starters that i'm holding on to, but. yeah. everything else has to go, i'm so sorry

[balkanlila]

2025 life lesson is valuing myself outside of my future profession and letting myself channel some of my medicine-induced emotions elsewhere.

[lucyvaleheart]

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[ichigosoju]

🌷

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

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