#whoops this got long sorry

[beesinspades]

I'm 3 months and 2 weeks on T now and I'm sooooo happy with it :D the first two months and then some were SLOW, so much so if it wasn't for one thing and the (temporary) side effects of the hormonal mess, I would've thought it wasn't working lol

but over the past month I've started really seeing changes!!

my voice started dropping, I can hear a difference with my voice pre-t!

I'm already growing facial hair on my neck and chin. at this rate I'll hopefully be one of the lucky ones with something decent before the end of my first year on T hehe

my belly is getting hairier

I think my face shape has started to change but that's harder to tell

so yeah I'm really happy because so far I'm getting nice changes and I haven't been plagued with being hungry, hot and horny. no mood changes either or anything. I don't feel any different from before T besides feeling more confident in my appearance. and I still have some palpitations when I lie down to go to bed in the evening and still in bed in the morning but I saw a cardiologist with echography and EKG and I'm good so it's likely the hormones. it was much worse before my third shot when we increased the dose.

also I don't know if it's related but before T I would get really nauseous (at the base of the neck rather than the stomach, idk how to explain it) at least once every three weeks or so, most of the time when I woke up in the morning and then it went away once I got up and went about my day. a week or so after I started T it got worse as in it started happening more frequently, at night too, and sometimes lasted throughout the day. then towards the end of the sixth week, before my third shot, it got so bad for like five days I thought I was gonna die hahaha but same as the palpitations improving, we did the third shot at full dose instead of half and the nausea disappeared. I haven't had a single instance of it since. so?¿?¿??? (both these things were already there before but probably made worse by a medication I started taking a little after going on T though. I stopped taking it as well)

I'm a liiittle anxious because "oh my god what if I'm doing a mistake" but I'm really looking forward to the next few months!!!

anyways, I did two shots by myself so far, the first one went perfectly well and the second one I felt like passing out but it was likely because I did it in the morning right out of my hot shower sjdkln I lied down for 20 minutes and then felt fine again.

also I got the results of my check-up blood test yesterday and my T levels have very nicely increased (I'm at like 55) and everything else is normal :3

but also WELP because besides my sister my family doesn't know. my mother hasn't called me in a month so odds that she'll notice something next time she calls me are not nonexistent and it's Not going to go well and I'm wholly unprepared for that conversation

next week I'm having lunch with my godmother whom I last saw on the day I started T, so that should be interesting too....she's always been supportive and nonjudgmental (to my face at least hahaha) but also given that she believes in the woke agenda I have no idea if HRT is going too far for her. wait and see :')

as for my dad, I'm frankly starting to wonder if he's just pretending not to have noticed anything. the voice I can get because he talks to me everyday so without a direct comparison it's not impossible that he hasn't noticed. but the facial hair??? I have way more than before and it's surprising he hasn't commented on it. anyway. either way the moment my mother knows he's probably gonna be made aware too.

anyway. excitement but also Fear

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[cosmicwhoreo]

due to the requests of a very SPECIFIC and might I add, MANIPULATIVE Grim Reaper I loathe to call a friend that I will not name- I was asked to doodle my own version of Herobrine for their B day. And I couldn't stop after that-

Tl;Dr- damn you @grimmixxart

[telestoapologist]

drifter: i'll be seein' ya, little sister. sao and i got a biiig score of popcorn shrimp to fry up tonight by the river.

eido: that sounds delicious! would it be too much to ask if i could join you both?

drifter, grimacing slightly and rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle: sorry, 'fraid this is private a party for two this time around. tell ya what, though; i'll bring back some leftovers for ya. how's that sound?

eido, slightly disheartened, but understanding: i see... i understand. thank you for offering, i would like that very much.

drifter, patting her shoulder apologetically: next time you can come with, trust. hell, we'll even teach ya how to catch and cook 'em! how's that sound?

eido, brightening up: oh, that sounds fun! yes! thank you, i greatly appreciate the offer and will gladly partake!

later that evening, down at the river....

sao, with their pants hiked up to their knees as they help drifter catch prawns for eido: don't get me wrong, i'm not against this- and smoking on an empty stomach is a bad idea- but don't you think she's old enough to be able to handle this sort of talk?

drifter, wiping a bit of river muck across his forehead: eh, it's not her i'm worried about, it's big bad crawdaddy- he's been a little more protective than usual after that ordeal with eramis. eido may be able to handle herself just fine, but 'ol misraaks is like any other dad. he knows she's her own person, but she'll still always be his baby girl no matter what.

sao, smiling to themself and humming: fair enough, i imagine that's something they'll eventually work out for themselves with time juuust fine- though, i think you and i are going to have to change up our phrases just a little if she's gonna be tagging along. you know, for now.

drifter, clucking: you might be right about that. (grins) got any ideas?

sao: hm... (leans up with a freshly caught prawn, snapping its neck to kill it instantly and dropping it in their basket) what about "meeking a smee"? i haven't used it in awhile, but it's always been a personal favorite of mine.

drifter, raising a brow skeptically but not without amusement: "meeking a smee", eh? now that's an interesting one. i like it, though! it's got a little (wiggles fingers while swirling hands in the air) ~*~whimsy~*~ to it, heh.

sao, beaming proudly: thank you! i think so, too.

[prince-simon]

holaa

curious fun question(s) to hopefully make you smile after so many when is the next chap out and are you still alive or have you already joined the holy god of gay? preguntas lol

what were wilmon doing (or not doing) when they spend the night at zarzuela after simon's attackers were caught while relearning each other ? (since the (physical) description is both vague and super detailed wtf?? haha) any unkown spicy or thoughtful thoughts you wanna share abt it? was the scene planned early on? what was changed in the process? and why? thinking back, how was it for you to write it in the middle of sm pain going on plotwise? did it mess with you? do you think this evening/night at simon's childhood room was fundamental in their healing and simon's trust in physical touch? could the awful situation have their love ripped apart (since wille was worried it'd not be as 'before') or was it always sure they get out of it together and in more or less one piece? is simon now wille's sunflower or his heather? ;)

mucho amor och churros to you <33

hiiii let's ignore that this ask has been sitting in my inbox for so long pls thank you for this ask i'm obsessed with it and it did make me smile when you sent it and it's also making me smile now but also pain!!!! bc it made me reread that specific scene. i've also dug around in my beta readers server for thought processes around this scene so hopefully this is gonna be somewhat coherent lmfao

was the scene planned early on? it really wasn't at all. and it actually was supposed to be a smut scene in the beginning haha i told my beta readers, yo, i think we're gonna have some coping smut and then over the course of a week (how crazy is it that that's 2 1/2 years ago now!!!) i wrote this scene

what were (or weren't) they doing? what was changed in the process and why) as it developed i got to a point where it just didn't feel right to show them having sex because it was such an intimate moment for them that even just writing it i felt like an intruder. i said to my beta readers at some point that wilmon can have sex off screen so i think it's very much up to reader interpretation at this point. but "on screen", in the chapter, they were really just touching each other and coming back into their own bodies and to each other

how was it for you to write it in the middle of sm pain going on plotwise? did it mess with you? it was. a lot. to put it simply haha. i mean generally speaking the entirety of chapters 10-12 were the hardest thing i've ever written, emotionally speaking. i think this little screenshot was me in the middle of that scene lol: and this one was after i'd just finished the scene (and the chapter): was the scene planned early on? it really wasn't at all. and it actually was supposed to be a smut scene in the beginning haha i told my beta readers, yo, i think we're gonna have some coping smut and then over the course of a week (how crazy is it that that's 2 1/2 years ago now!!!) i wrote this scene

what were (or weren't) they doing? what was changed in the process and why) as it developed i got to a point where it just didn't feel right to show them having sex because it was such an intimate moment for them that even just writing it i felt like an intruder. i said to my beta readers at some point that wilmon can have sex off screen so i think it's very much up to reader interpretation at this point. but "on screen", in the chapter, they were really just touching each other and coming back into their own bodies and to each other

how was it for you to write it in the middle of sm pain going on plotwise? did it mess with you? it was. a lot. to put it simply haha. i mean generally speaking the entirety of chapters 10-12 were the hardest thing i've ever written, emotionally speaking. these two screenshots were from in the middle of writing that scene and after i'd just finished it (and the chapter):

so yeah it definitely messed with me. i can't say how long in total it took me to write chapter 10 but i do remember having to actively take a day or two off writing in between and implementing some serious self care to make sure my own mental health wasn't completely plummeting. i think it was definitely good that i had my beta reader team behind me to suffer through it with me but also to help me cope and distract myself with silly things so shout out to them always!

was that night fundamental to their healing/simon's trust in touch? i think after the hell they've been through over the past couple days, they definitely needed that moment to remind themselves that they're still alive and that they had each other. so i guess, yes it definitely was fundamental to the healing journey going onwards. i think they needed it to be able to keep going bc we know that chapter 11 was a whole other shitshow but i think without that intimate moment, everything would've been even more fragile

could the situation have ripped them apart? i think if wille hadn't learned to love and respect himself and his own boundaries as well, it would've been hard for them to meet on common ground again, and if they'd stayed together it would've turned so toxic. but because they both learned and grew, they managed to push through (but in any scenario, i think they would've fought for their lives to stay together)

is simon wille's sunflower or heather? heather :)

thank you thank you thank you for this ask i had so much fun answering it and diving into that scene again! hope i wasn't rambling too much and you're satisfied with the answers hahah! <33

[underground-boss-clay]

Hello, Gym Leader Clay.

I'm writing to you concerning your romantic relationship with Gym Leader Drayden. If... it is not presumptuous to ask, I was hoping to inquire about the beginnings of your relationship. What... what exactly was it that made you realize you were experiencing romantic attraction?

Ain't no problem ta ask. Just that the answer ain't machine cut clean. 'Course, it'd be easy ta give you that "you'll know on yer own" kinda garbage but I ain't the sort ta lie like that.

See, it's been brought up a coupla times on here, but Drayden wasn't the first relationship I was in. An' well, I knew I loved her. Not think, knew. The feelings I had round her were... Intoxicating. Like there were Beautifly 'n my gut, an' even the rainiest days with her could be sunny. Jus' seein' her made the day brighter somehow. 'Cept well, love don't last long without a decent foundation, an' turns out we didn't have one. Ain't gettin' into the grit of it but the tougher times got, the harder it became to love her--ta stay 'n love with her. Them gut-Beautifly died down, sunny days got cloudy, but I--we both thought we were close enough friends that we could sort things out. ... We didn't. An' that's on both sides, mind: we didn't talk much bout our problems, an' so they just built up an' rotted the already-shaky foundation till it all fell apart under us. Whatever love we had didn't last as long as we were told it would.

An' then, a' course, the part ya actually asked fer. The feelings fer Drayden didn't come up right away honestly--hell, I didn't even realize 'em right away. We'd been friends fer so long, an' he'd been there fer so much a' the bad times, at first I just thought that what I was feelin' was appreciation fer him stickin' by me despite bein'... well, more disliked 'n usual at the time.

It took some long thinkin' before I realized what I was feelin' again, an' uh... well I didn't like it right away. Not only was I unsure after... Errythin' that happened with Celia, but growin' up I was told that feelings towards another man weren't somethin' a fella should act on. Sure I'd had them before growin' up, but as they passed quickly I figured it was just a normal, if intrusive, kinda thought? So why was it comin' back tenfold towards Drayden? I didn't get it.

An' then Mildred hit me over the head with the "it has been how fuckin' long an' you don't know what 'bisexual' is" hammer. ... In my defense it weren't covered when I was growin' up.

But talkin' with her made me realize that I jus' had to bite that bullet an' come clean to Drayden bout how I was feelin'. Even if he didn't return the feelings, least it wouldn't be hangin' over my head no more an' we could find somewhere ta go from there, either still as friends or... not.

Course, y'all know what musta happened. Not only did we talk bout how I felt, an' how he felt back, but we also kept talkin' afterwards, bout how ta deal with each other's issues, disagreements... We stayed as friends, jus'... made sure our foundation was sturdier before we built on top a' that.

Boilin' it all down though, yer gonna fall 'n love with people, they'll make every moment with them feel the best, but it's gonna take work ta make it actually last ferra long time.

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[charcubed]

for a bunch of people who supposedly love supernatural, huge chunks of the fandom sure seem afraid to love it in earnest without adding asterisks to their own interest, considering how often people apparently feel the need to disclaim that it’s Bad or everything good about it was supposedly an Accident

society if everyone could just perhaps stop making posts about and/or giving hundreds of notes to posts about how much Potential the show had but how Poorly Executed it supposedly universally was. alas, technology does not allow me to mute a specific flavor of post so instead I must complain

but whatever, RIP to those people but I am different. as always I’m wearing a shirt that says “ask me about how supernatural is an incredibly unique piece of media that will never have an equal and that made television history; infamously stretched and played with the boundaries of various genres just because its creative team thought it’d be cool; was introduced as character-driven and maintained that to great success; and boasts a remarkably cohesive vision as a body of work that is testament to the skill and dedication of those who crafted it even though its creative teams transitioned through several shifts, adapted around industry uncertainties, changed the narrative in response to organic and noticed potential, and were limited by network interference”

[mitamicah]

You may remember me talking about wanting a new tattoo when I went to Finland this month. I ended up getting two (these ones). You can look under the line to get the full story about how the world a cancelled flight ended up resulting in me travelling back in Denmark with new ink on both my arms (ngl mobility was a challenge the first few days).

The tale of two tattoos

I have recently been visiting Finland for the second time in my life. If everything had gone to plan, I would’ve arrived in Helsinki May 3 at 9.20 am which would give me almost six hours before I could check in at my hotel. Learning this I decided to plan for a tattoo since I find tattoos to be gender affirming and a great way to store memories about an experience in the body (a sort of permanent souvenir if you will).

Now I’m very much autistic (capital A) so I tend to overthink things and meanings. To challenge myself I’d decided to give myself the goal that the tattoo I’d get at this appointment should be a flash piece. Asking around on tumblr for good Helsinki based tattoo studios I stumbled over Krunikan Leima where tattoo apprentice Ellen had a pokemon Gacha machine with additional pokemon flash tattoos. In my childhood I liked Eevee (looking like a fluffy fox was a big factor – foxes are still my favourite animal to this day), so I kept this as one of my possible options. At the end I decided to reach out to Ellen about whether she had time the given Friday. She was able to put aside the whole day for me and seemed very excited by my käärijä artwork on my wall when we had our consultation over Microsoft teams. Just a few days after said consultation she posted a story where she’d tattooed Häärijä on somebody’s leg.

At this point it may be good to mention that this tattoo would be the first tattoo I’ve ever gotten in colour. Because of this I was a bit hesitant about going full colour. When thinking about a possible solution I realized that if I went black and grey for the design itself yet kept the coloured background (bubbles in pink and blue) we’d make an accidental trans flag. Being transmasc myself this seemed as too good a coincidence to not go for.

Friday rolled around and unfortunately my flight was cancelled. I was instead directed to board a flight eight hours later flying over Stockholm before heading to Helsinki. This whole ideal would make me 10 hours late compared to my original time. And so, I had to sadly announce to Ellen I wouldn’t be able to make it for our appointment. In true honesty I thought this would be it: the 100 euro I had paid as a consultation fee would’ve been lost, and I would have had to kiss the idea of a trans eevee goodbye. Yet when later having to also inform the studio I was asked if I was able to visit the studio the upcoming Sunday instead which by chance I would (since I hadn’t been able to book a flight before Monday morning).

This whole ideal in hindsight seems to have been faith since on Saturday I went to my first Käärijä concert in his home country when he headlined the newly opened Böle arena. Joining together on the dance floor with other fans at the afterparty, still high on the show(s) we’ve witnessed, we were given yet another blessing in form of a spontaneous gig from a half-drunk Jere behind the DJ stand. Amongst the songs chosen were the transmasc coded song Paidaton Riehuja (the song is literally about people calling a guy taking his shirt off inappropriate because of how his body doesn’t fit into the societal norm said guy giving no shits about it, you cannot tell me this isn’t trans coded especially for post op transmen).

Now I had dreamt about being present to a gig when Käärijä would play this song since first learning about him as an artist and the song itself. Mind you, in my head I would have had my top surgery way before this potential gig, so I’d had become confident with my body and my chest. In my dream I would’ve taken off my shirt no hesitation and proudly showing off my scars. And nobody would look at me funny. Maybe somebody would even smile and cheer.

Hearing the song now as the last song of the entire evening standing next to another transmasc person (hi Skull, @teal-skull) I immediately went to business, fighting with the four layers of shirts I’d decided to put on that day (jacket, longsleeve, tanktop and sportsbra). By the halfway point I’d stand in a crowd with only my sportsbra on, screaming my suffering voice out with my shirts helicoptering in the air. Only afterwards did I realise what I’d just done. I’d voluntarily taken off my shirt for the first time ever in public which in itself is a milestone yet even more so considering that the last time I had been shirtless in front of another human being it was an ex who made sure to let me know he conceptualized and sexualized me as a female person. Yet if anybody even cared about me here, they didn’t seem to gender my body in any way. All these feelings crashed into me like a tidal wave making me ugly cry for the first time ever at a concert. I would cry at least two more times that evening (happy tears) thinking about what had just gone down.

To turn back to the tattoo part of this story, since I had a tattoo appointment less than eleven hours later, my mind began scheming. After only 3,5 hours of sleep, I went up to make concept art of a possible milestone tattoo I’d ask Ellen if she’d help me get as well as the original plan, the Eevee. I wasn’t sure about which of two designs I wanted (either ‘paidaton’ down my lower arm in a typewriter font or PR in the käärijä font with the date underneath), so I took with me to the appointment.

As it turned out Ellen is a casual fan of käärijä herself after having been carried into the fandom by one of her clients asking her to tattoo käärijä related ideas twice (one of them being the Häärijä I’d been on her story recently). She was open to make my Paidaton Riehuja idea a reality if we ended up having the time. After 2,5 hours of listening to Käärijä (+ Go_A + Vesna), talking about Käärijä and otherwise gushing over nerdy culture, Ellen concluded that we did indeed have time for another small tattoo.

After half an hour of lying awkwardly on my stomach could enjoy the result in the mirror.  My most spontaneous tattoo design now and probably ever was done. Ellen had chosen the second design with the shortened song title and the date. And it worked out perfectly! And to think had my flight not been delayed two days prior this might never have happened.

Somebody I know said once that everything in live happens for a reason. Call it faith or destiny or whatever but I think that somebody up there knew I had to reschedule my trip to make the most out of it. Now I not only have a wonderful trans Eevee but I have one of my great trans journey milestones tattooed on my body.

And so concludes the tale of the two tattoos.

Thank you for reading.  

[enbyhyena]

I don't know if anybody will notice/care, but for posterity's sake I want to explain why I haven't had a DNI in my pinned post, and share what I've just added to it as a way of explanation.

I don't have a DNI because I believe asking people not to interact shuts the door on personal growth and fragments communities (making them easier to prey on by real threats), and the objects of a DNI rarely listen anyways, sometimes even causing MORE harassment than you might otherwise receive.

Without allowing in outside voices now and again, you remove the ability to think critically for yourself. It's all too easy for a bad actor to sow discourse while presenting it in a seemingly harmless way, and without anyone to fact check, it can spiral out of control and cause even more finger-pointing, confusion, and disinformation. It is my belief that the collapse of communication between every level of our society has singlehandedly become the ultimate root cause of every problem we currently have.

I hate that everyone is being forced into echo chambers lately and are treated with extreme moral prejudice if they try to crawl out of it without immediately and fundamentally changing their beliefs (and are talked down to/condescended towards if they just want to learn about the other sides in a critical way, or Hell, even introduce new ideas altogether). I won't have anything to do with it and tbh neither should you. (I'm looking at you, shipcourse-posturing minors. You're all just hurting each other and yourselves. Stop it.)

Also, all of this is not intended passive-aggressively and I say it coming from a place of genuine concern for the communities I've grown up in and love. There are people that don't care if you're proship or anti, there are people who don't care if you're pro-endo or anti-endo...there are people who don't care whether or not you, as a gay person (generally speaking) believe trans or asexual people belong underneath the LGBT label. There are people who don't care what language you use to describe disability. Hell, there are plenty of people in power who don't even care if you're repub or dem (for American readers). This isn't to say that these conversations shouldn't happen and that we shouldn't talk about it; but that's just the problem. All these DNIs are achieving is shutting down communication and creating invisible cracks in our communities. And when we stand so far apart, it will be that much easier for our oppressors to take ALL of us down. They don't care about the differences. They want ALL of us gone regardless of nuance. They don't think we should exist AT ALL. Period. We are stronger together and our oppressors know this, so they plant seeds to isolate us.

Oppression has no morality. Oppression is indiscriminate and affects EVERYONE.

So yeah. That's my take. Don't care who you are, don't care what you post. I still reserve the right to moderate my feed and block as I feel the need to; but don't feel like you can't talk to me. I don't do that whole purity/cancel culture shit that's been so popular online/in fandom lately.

TL;DR Interact or don't, just don't be an asshole.

[ms-nunuvurbsness]

Ack, sorry. Marimoth 49 (for now.😈)

49. Kiss ... out of necessity

This situation was ludicrous. 

It may seem hilarious from an outside perspective, but she did not feel like laughing. At all.

After a day full of courses, worrying about finding an internship next year and an abnormal amount of mishaps - seriously, she lost count of how many times she had misplaced something or pricked her fingers accidentally while sewing today! - she had been ready to come home and fling herself onto her bed. Dressing and eating could wait. She was far too exhausted to care about anything.

But no.

No, this day just had to turn from bad to worse when, after five years of blessed silence, a new Akuma decided to show up.

At first, she had no idea what was happening. She was walking home when she saw a couple frantically clinging to each other while trying to evade the edges of a strange shimmering barrier surrounding them.

Of course, she had run over to try and help, but before she could do anything, a high-pitched voice screeched: "You will not ruin their first kiss! I will not let you break apart this perfect match!"

Suddenly, she was plucked from the streets and flying towards the starless sky. There had been sounds of distress from other people around her, but she could hardly make out what they were shouting because the Akuma kept complaining about her ruined day right into her ear.

Tell me about it.

That had been her last thought before she had realised she was flying right towards the lit-up Tour Eiffel - without any sign of slowing down. She didn't even have time to react when she got deposited roughly on one of the crossbeams. The Akuma hadn't wasted any time, hitting her with a light beam before leaving for the city again. Temporarily blinded, Marinette had tried to keep her balance, frantically waving her arms to find any purchase. Thankfully, somebody had grabbed her and prevented her from tumbling down.

Once she was somewhat steady on her feet again, she had turned towards her rescuer - and had lost any manner of speech once she saw a silver butterfly mask staring right back at her. Her heart had plummeted at the realisation that the Akuma had brought her to Paris' most notorious villain.

Hawk Moth.

Her mind had started racing.

Why was she here?

Did he know she was Ladybug?

Was he about to demand her Miraculous?

Should she transform? But this would be a bad idea! Because what if he didn't know-

"Are you alright?"

Her thoughts had screeched to a halt. Had she heard right? A question which she had articulated with an intelligent: "What?"

"I asked whether you're alright," he had repeated, enunciating each word with slight impatience.

She had blinked, taken aback. That had been the last thing she had expected of him: inquiring about her well-being. 

Was this some trick?

 "I... I am?" Despite sounding more like she was asking him, he had accepted her answer with a nod.

He had then turned away from her, facing forward towards the shining city with his gloved hands folded atop his cane. His following words had surprised her even more. "Don't worry, mademoiselle. I will handle this situation immediately."

She would've laughed had she not been so apprehensive over his true intentions.

Not worry about Hawk Moth? That would be a first.

But as the minutes passed, it became apparent that he didn't plan on doing anything to her. On the contrary, he seemed to have forgotten about her existence altogether. He was more preoccupied with haggling quietly with the Akuma, the glowing outlines of a butterfly framing his eyes. His low tone became increasingly more threatening the longer it took to convince the Akuma to cooperate.

She had tried to focus on his words but was quickly distracted by the butterfly brooch on his purple suit. His Miraculous was so close in reach that it seemed almost too easy to lunge forward and take it. She would lie if she said she hadn't contemplated doing it. But she knew she hardly stood a chance as her civilian self. And she would not risk revealing herself to him. That was out of the question.

Therefore, all that was left was to stay put while trying to ignore the dizzying height and the dangerous proximity to her sworn enemy.

So this was where she was now: trapped on the Tour Eiffel with Hawk Moth at night.

At first, she had wondered why he hadn't simply taken her to a safer place where they could each go their own way. He obviously didn't need her for anything. So much time had passed, yet the only thing he had done was argue with the Akuma or just silently glare at the city as if it was responsible for his misfortune. For a moment, she had been afraid that he would leave her any moment now, but curiously, he stayed where he was.

The answer to her musings appeared right at the corner of her eye, shimmering golden when the city lights hit it at the right angle. 

A barrier.

It was just like the one she had seen that couple surrounded with.

Distinctly, she remembered being hit by a light beam from the Akuma. Right. So that's what the attack did.

Squinting, she tried to study the barrier but soon grew irritated with her lack of progress. It kept shifting in and out of visibility like a living thing, making it difficult to catch any potentially meaningful details.

She contemplated whether there was a possibility to phase through the semi-invisible wall.

Just as she raised her hand, about to probe it lightly, a stern voice interrupted her advance. 

"Don't touch it."

Her body froze. Slowly, she turned her head in his direction, glancing up at him with apprehension. "Why not?" 

"It will burn you if you do, " he stated plainly.

As if to prove his point, the barrier contracted slightly, inching closer towards the pair. 

Marinette was too slow when trying to snatch her hand out of reach, her fingers accidentally grazing the surface of the magical bubble. Pain shot up her arm, and she bit back a surprised yelp. Staggering, she tried to move away but, in doing so, almost lost her balance all over again.

Hawk Moth reached out reflexively, ready to catch her if she were to slip. She managed to steady herself with effort, her legs still shaking from the adrenaline rush. Only when she finally stood still did she grow aware of his hand hovering over her back, fingers slightly brushing over her thin blouse. A shiver ran down her spine at the butterfly light contact.  

Noticing her reaction, he withdrew, placing his hand back atop the other on his cane. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw the glowing butterfly shape reappear around his eyes again.

He wasted no time showing his displeasure.

"I thought I made my instructions clear. Come back this instant. Stop fooling around with your powers and reverse the damage you have done."

There was a pause in which the Akuma apparently argued her case.

"No, this is not "doing good" or helping. This is causing mischief out of pettiness. It was not part of the deal, " he replied coldly.

Marinette raised an eyebrow.

"Doing good"?

She hardly had the time to think more about that before the barrier moved again, getting tighter around them. Any more, and she would be burned again.

Swallowing, she willed her - once again - shaky legs to move, sliding one baby step after another away from the danger zone. Being unsure of her footing, she made the mistake of glancing down towards her feet. A sense of vertigo rolled over her, making her freeze in terror.

Oh God, oh God, this is too high, oh God, oh no-

"Hold onto my arm. And don't look down."

His gruff voice startled her out of her racing thoughts. Trembling and wide-eyed, she accepted his offer without question. Their eyes met, and despite his mask covering a significant part of his features, she could see frustration written all over his face. But more than that, he looked resigned. Weary.

Uncomfortable, she averted her eyes to the side. Instead, she eyed the distance left between them and the edge of the barrier. It was alarmingly small. Three more contractions, and there would be no escape.

"There must be another way to break out of this, " she muttered.

"I'm already working on that."

"Yes, I can see how well this is going for you."

He turned away once again, resuming his glower towards the city. She thought that was the end of the conversation and was about to get worried over her impulsive reply when he continued: "The other option would be to wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir to show up and solve this." 

Unwittingly, the corners of her mouth twitched. 

He had ground this out with such annoyance she couldn't help the small bubble of amusement flickering through her chest. That was something she was familiar with: his blatant dislike of Paris' heroes.

This small bout of nostalgia didn't last long, however. There was another problem: Chat Noir had told her at their last night patrol that he would be out of commission for a few weeks. He would travel to a different country - not too far away, so she could still reach him. But he had warned her that there would be a significant delay if he were to help her. So the only other hero who could've done something right now was trapped herself. And she couldn't call Chat Noir because then she would have to transform.

Out of the question, out of the question, out of the question. Think, Marinette! There is a way to break out of this without giving up your identity! There must be!

She bit her lip, her fingers unconsciously tightening around his arm.

It didn't help when the barrier shifted closer to them again.

Closing her eyes in concentration, she envisioned the trapped couple from before. What was it that the Akuma had said when she had tried to help them? Why had she prevented her from going near them?

Something about-

"You will not ruin their first kiss! I will not let you break apart this perfect match!"

The words resounded like a distant echo within her mind, making her world tilt at a dangerous angle. She blanched.

First kiss.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no, don't tell me I- ?!

How absurd! No way! There must be something she was overlooking!

But time was short, and her frantic thoughts always circled back to the same awful conclusion. This limited supply of information was all she had. She didn't have anything else to go on.

A small, high-pitched giggle escaped her, sounding about as breathless as she felt. Give it a minute, and she might start crying on top of that. Of course. Of course, this type of ridiculous thing could only happen to Marinette.

"What is it?"

The cautious tone of his voice filtered through her panic-stricken mind, yet she couldn't bring herself to meet his stare. It wasn't bad enough to be stuck with her enemy. No. Apparently, the Akuma wanted her victims to share a first kiss - only because her own had been interrupted.

A first kiss with Hawk Moth.

It was that, or give up her superhero identity.

Pick your poison, Marinette.

"Mademoiselle?"

There was also something else she realised. Hawk Moth talked to his victims through a telepathic connection. Therefore, he knew their thoughts and feelings. And by giving them their powers, he also knew what they were capable of. Which meant he was familiar with how each and every attack of theirs worked.

"You know, " she breathed.

"Beg your pardon?"

Finally, she looked up at him. "You know how to get out of this."

Outwardly, he showed no sign. His expression remained infuriatingly neutral. He didn't even blink. "Well, of course. That is why I've been trying to talk-"

"No, don't pretend to misunderstand! You know very well how to get rid of this barrier without the Akuma! " she interrupted him, before he could continue with his made-up excuse. His blind insistence on pursuing this idea made her more confident in her dreadful theory.

She got further proof when something flickered in his eyes. Something that was gone as fast as it had appeared. It was too late, though.

Gotcha.

"I have no idea what you're speaking of," he said, a warning edge to his tone.

Oh, so he was going to make it difficult. But there was no time.

Because, at that instant, the barrier shifted so close, it would definitely touch them with its next contraction.

Mind made up, she decided to act before she could think. 

With a snarl, she grabbed his lapels and forcefully yanked him down towards her, meanwhile pushing herself up to meet him. She pressed her lips to his, her vice grip keeping them locked together for the moment - making sure this act met the magical requirements for their release.

Her heart kept pounding a warning beat as they teetered dangerously close at the edges of the crossbeam, somehow evading the lethal fall by pure luck. 

She had squeezed her eyes shut to spare herself the embarrassment of his reaction. The sudden tension in his body spoke volumes nonetheless. 

Two heartbeats passed with nothing happening.

Then she felt one of his hands press down on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin almost painfully.

Gasping, she tore herself away from him, immediately casting a look over her shoulder. She tried to ignore her flushed face, squinting through her blurry vision to try and figure out whether they had succeeded. There were no flashes of gold as far as she could see. That alone, however, wasn't enough to confirm her suspicion, so she raised one of her hands and tentatively reached out toward the empty air. 

There was no pain nor any resistance.

A flash of relief passed through her, lessening the tension from her frame.

So she had been right. They really had to- !

Well.

At least it was over now.

That was when she grew aware of a hand resting on her shoulder, its grip not as bruising anymore, but its weight still heavy on her conscience.

She herself was holding onto his lapels, unwilling to let go and refusing to look up. His body remained tense, and his unnatural stillness was foreboding. She knew she needed to say something fast, or else, she felt, he would explode on her.

"I'm sorry, monsieur," she muttered, half meaning it, half defiant. "It was the only thing I could think of."

And it had worked.

When he didn't answer, her heart sank. That was it. He was probably going to leave her up here. Or worse. Maybe he would throw her over the edge for her audacity.

She cringed inside when he let out a forceful exhale, preparing herself for the worst. What that might've been, she would never find out.

Her eyes widened when he suddenly bent down and picked her up. He shifted her to a more comfortable position in his arms while simultaneously managing to hold onto his cane. She frowned. Opening her mouth, she was about to question his intentions. What left her lips instead was a silent scream as he jumped over the edge without any warning.

Their fall was occasionally interrupted by him landing on one ladder or crossbeam and then jumping to the next. This way, they could steadily descend the many levels of the tower. Eventually, they reached the safe and solid ground.

This whole time, he had said nothing to her. He hadn't even spared her a glance. The longer this oppressive silence persisted, the worse she felt about her actions, no matter how justified. 

Had it been reversed, she knew, she would've been furious. God, she would've despised him for it! 

But she had to face the truth.

He could've done to her what she had done to him and just left her then and there once they were free. But he hadn't. Instead, he had insisted on trying to convince the Akuma to reverse the attack. And not only that. The very first thing he had done was prevent her from plunging to her death. And despite being preoccupied with his negotiations, he had stayed aware of her safety, helping whenever he felt she was in danger. Even now, he had chosen to bring her down rather than leave her behind as punishment.

This Hawk Moth was a stranger to her. She didn't know what to make of his unusual change in demeanour. 

But she couldn't ignore the suffocating heaviness in her chest anymore.

So when he set her down, she kept her grip on his lapels, holding him in place as she gathered the right words. Breathing in, she braved herself to look him in the eyes. He needed to realise that she meant what she was about to say.

"Monsieur, I'm really sorry, I-"

He didn't let her finish.

"Spare me your incessant apologies."

She flinched at his biting tone.

Noticing her reaction, he paused, his eyes studying her face in quick saccades. He must've found something in her expression because some of the severity seemed to leave his features. 

Closing his eyes, he sighed.

When he spoke again, his voice had lost its cutting edge. "You did what was necessary at that moment." Reaching up, he closed his hands around her fists and carefully loosened her grip on his clothes.

Her breath hitched. "Still..."

She clamped her mouth shut when he gave her a look. 

"I don't want to hear any more of it." He didn't let her go. Not yet. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hands, letting her know the weight of his following words. "Let us both do ourselves a favour and forget this incident."

Slowly, she nodded. She wanted to do nothing more than that.

Satisfied with her agreement, he released her. "Well, then..."

"Thank you."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It was too late to take them back now.

He tilted his head. "For what?"

Does he think I'm thanking him for the kiss?

The unbidden thought made her flush in mortification, and she immediately shoved it into the deepest recesses of her mind.

"F-for rescuing me. I could've died had you not saved me!"

After a beat of silence, he inclined his head. "Any time, mademoiselle."

Having finally cleared up the situation, they exchanged goodbyes, and she watched him vanish into the night. She stayed there for a while, eyes unfocused while gathering her composure. Soon, she also left the scene.

Paris was still in need of Ladybug's intervention, after all.

There was one problem, however, she would not be able to solve.

Both Hawk Moth and Marinette would fail at their agreement to forget the events of this evening.

[johnslittlespoon]

It just makes so much sense that you were writing in 2013, you have the unhinged vibe that the golden fics from that era had.

I'm just here to compliment you really lol, mostly because I am giving a try to write a lil something for the first time and god I can only dream of ever being able to write as good as you. I've been writing poems and music for years now but i find writing actual coherent storys with characters and dialogue so so hard.

I was wondering if you have any tips, or like little rules you follow when you write.

all the love, xxx

🌷

I'M GONNA CRYYYY this was the sweetest thing in the world to wake up to wtf wtf <333 thank you SO much, i really appreciate this wahh my heart :'))) but also you are SILLY. don't compare yourself to others!! if we all did that constantly we'd never get anything written!! there are SO many authors i adore on here that will always have me chasing the "i wish i could write like that" feeling and it's a great motivator but alsooo at the end of the day. you gotta fall in love with your own words and characters and stories <33

and i feel that so much!! we are twinsss, i also started out writing poems and music and then realized i had stories i wanted to tell that wouldn't fit in shorter form, then discovered fanfic in middle school in the early '10s and it was all downhill from there LOL. truly such a golden era tho oh my god. growing up reading the hat fic and borderline illegible wattpad stories was certainly... formative!

yapping ahead vv (i don't have much advice bc i'm still just learning as i go but hopefully some stuff i picked up on can be a bit helpful!)

i have zero method to the madness when writing so it's a relief to know it doesn't come off that way LOL but i do have a few little things that i follow and i always look for them when beta–ing as well! they're pretty small technical things and they're generally up to personal preference, but some of them come from authors i admire and i think they can really take anyone's writing up a notch <3

i don't feel qualified to give advice because i'm just raw–dogging everything lmao i've never taken classes or anything, so take all this yapping with a grain of salt bc it's just what's worked for me!

– i try to use descriptors like "the man" or "the blond" or "his friend" etc sparingly. i wish i could remember the source, but i read a great piece about why it's better to just go with the character's name 99% of the time, and then i went through so many of my works to edit them and i felt so much more confident in my writing afterwards– it made a big difference in readability (imo).

ofc there are exceptions, like if the name of a character is unknown, or if there are too many names being thrown around in one sentence and a "the man" or "the soldier" etc just sits nicer. i definitely still use them occasionally! but it does sometimes put some distance between the reader and the story when those descriptors are used too often instead of names, so it's a good thing to keep an eye out for when it comes to flow. sometimes less or more or whateva ??

– sorta on the topic of less is more, i love challenging myself to show vs tell when i can! whether it's by keeping dialogue short and letting actions speak instead (can add to intimacy/realism– we communicate so much through body language yk), through metaphors (literally how my whole '#john egan is dog coded' fic was born LOL), or describing feelings rather than spelling them out (his heart ached vs he was sad, his pulse raced vs he was scared, you get the gist). you said you've been writing poems so i feel like stuff like that would already probably come easily to you tho! <3

– this guide on ao3 is great for smut writers! whether someone's a beginner or just looking for ways to elevate the filth, i found it really helpful, it's a fun read as well lol. it calls out stereotypes/cliches and teaches you how to reword them, gives lists of slang and reactionary words, do's and don't's, etc. i don't follow everything in it but that's the beauty of writing; we all have things that work for us and things that don't and that's so okay. :-)

– in the same way that artists use references to practice and find their style, you can do that with writing too! i know a lot of writers have a doc or note where they jot down stylistic things they find while reading that they'd like to emanate, or words they want to use, specific phrases, descriptors, etc. if i'm reading a fic and find an auditory descriptor i like, i might take note of it, stuff like that. sorta like a text document version of a pinterest board!

– thesaurus.com is my best friend truly. often going with the 'simplest' version of a word makes for smoothest reading so someone isn't taken out of the story being like wtf does that word mean lol but sometimes things can feel repetitive, or like there just needs to be a little bit more spice; i probs go back and forth btwn my doc and thesaurus a dozen times an hour tbh.

that's all i can think of rn and ik those are pretty basic so i'm sorry about that!! i really do just kinda write what evokes emotions in myself, and then i hit post and hope it translates over to whoever is reading too :') drawing from your own experiences if you can/really sitting with what the characters would be feeling in whatever scenario you're writing is probably the most powerful way to present what you see in your mind.

i have a hard time writing about emotions/things i haven't personally experienced, so i usually stray away from it out of fear of not getting across what i want to, but some people are great at winging it and putting themselves in unfamiliar shoes so!! it's again just personal preference really.

and alsooo be kind to yourself! i'm an anxious wreck every time i post any of my writing, i am very much not confident when posting new fics and i agonize over my docs so much and trash a lot of works, but i know at the end of the day i can't grow or learn if i don't get the words down, and i can't get feedback or gain confidence if i don't post. becoming your own hype man and giving yourself the opportunity to improve is essential <33

sooo much love and best of luck!!! lmk if you end up writing smth, i'd love to read it (◠‿◠✿)

[platinumaspiration]

What are your must have hairs to have in game?

mine 😅🤡

for clay hair, anything by @applewatersugar @hazelpuff @miniculesim. @rascalcurious and @brandinotbroke also have nice hair conversions

As far as individual hairstyles.... I honestly couldn't tell you. I am kind of on an EA kick right now so the only custom hair I haven't thrown out of my DL folder are a few by the people above + my daylifesims hair conversions lol

[darlincollins]

not sure if you still take requests but..

darlin and sweetheart being siblings that fell out of contact after quinns attack and them finally seeing eachother again at a pack meeting

ok honestly i'm kind of obsessed with what this does to the entire shaw pack canon, INCLUDING giving milo and sweetheart a childhood friends OR childhood rivals/enemies to lovers possibility

anyway i think sweetheart and darlin would have been really close as kids! always getting into mischief, pulling pranks, this also would probably mean that when they joined the pack two things could have happened:

1. sweetheart strongarms their way into the 'inner circle' of the pack and drags a reluctant darlin with them, thus initially making darlin a more integrated pack member

2. sweetheart and darlin remain distant together (sweetheart because they aren't a wolf and so they're necessarily on the outside of some pack things, darlin because darlin) and develop kind of an us vs. them mentality

either way i like to think that sweetheart and darlin would be kind of punk kids who are often on the wrong side of the rules/the law, but at a certain point sweetheart does become closer to the pack and maybe starts dating milo, decides they want to be an investigator, and starts cleaning up their act more, while darlin feels more isolated than ever and goes the opposite direction, falling in with the wrong crowd etc etc unto everything with quinn, who manipulates them into cutting sweetheart out of their life more and more

does darlin even tell sweetheart about quinn/report him directly to them? honestly doubtful in my mind both because they want sweetheart to be safe and also because they're too ashamed to tell them about it, so i imagine sweetheart only really hears about what's going on after the fight when darlin is in the healing ward with serious injuries

darlin can't lie and say quinn was caught since sweetheart works in the department- when sweetheart gets there the two get in a HUGE blowout argument with both saying really harsh things they don't mean, sweetheart because they're frustrated and terrified for their sibling and darlin because they're hurt and betrayed and think that if they push sweetheart away then sweetheart won't go after quinn

darlin doesn't even tell sweetheart they're leaving, which is another really low blow and sort of the final nail in the coffin

obviously sweetheart is not deterred from hunting quinn down and keeps pushing DUMP to look for him, going after leads on their own when they can- they also keep trying to get in contact with darlin, who rarely if ever responds

when darlin gets back to town, they of course don't tell anyone, but when they meet sam he informs them about this very annoying department investigator who's also looking for quinn and darlin is just... so done at this point and also FREAKING out because holy shit they did everything they could to push sweetheart away and they're STILL going after quinn?????

as a result their conversation with david goes WAY worse than it does in canon because he's also yelling at them for not telling sweetheart they've been in town for 2 entire months and also about the almost dying thing, darlin goes into complete shutdown mode as per the video, but realizes it is time to face the music and goes to the pack meeting

part of my vision of this disastrous pack meeting in canon is that darlin is like 10 minutes late because they physically cannot enter the building, so like... that times 500 because not only do they have to see the pack but also their sibling who they had this horrible fight with right before leaving- several times they genuinely consider just leaving the state of california and getting a new identity... but eventually they go inside...

the entire pack goes silent and is kind of watching the silent stare off that follows between sweetheart and darlin, wondering if they're about to start brawling, and then sweetheart stands up and walks over (darlin is standing there looking like they're about to be executed or something) and tackles them in a huge hug while darlin is like... what the fuck is going on???

then sweetheart drags them into a separate room and yells at them for like 10 minutes about how they've been here this whole time and didn't say anything??? they've been hunting quinn alone like they think they're batman??? they almost bled out and didn't call??? THEY LEFT FOR OVER A YEAR WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A NOTE??? darlin makes one or two attempts to interject but sweetheart hits them with the "AM I DONE TALKING?" until they're done and then the two of them join the pack meeting, which goes... poorly

afterwards darlin leaves without answering any of sweetheart's attempts to check up on them, going so far as to put an anti-tracking spell on themself and stay out of their apartment so that sweetheart can't find them

in canon i usually think that milo would probably be the most understanding when darlin first comes back because they're super similar in a lot of ways, BUT... in this au i think it would not be the same way? in milo's mind darlin has caused a lot of hurt and trouble for his mate and i think things would be chilly at best for a WHILE :/

anyway darlin feels horrible about everything that's gone down between the two of them and doesn't want to think about it, while sweetheart wants to push through the baggage as soon as possible so they can get their sibling back... things are not great for a while, with darlin trying to keep away and sweetheart trying to keep them from slipping away again, both of them feeling a lot of guilt

eventually sweetheart realizes that they can't push darlin to come back before they're ready, and darlin realizes they can't keep avoiding their problems, and the two have an actual honest discussion for the first time in a while, with both apologizing for the things they said during their fight and for the flawed way they've handled things since darlin's return, and tentatively working out a way forward

it's a little weird because they're both such different people now and because things are not the same anymore, but at the end of the day they just want to have the other in their life again and they make it work!

[petalstem]

Thoughts on the new graphic novel excerpt!

This is the first time in years that I have been GENUINELY excited about something relating to canon WC. Genuinely. Like, the past few graphic novels WERE good, I'm a big fan of Winds of Change, but like. I wasn't HYPED over them. I still pirated them (I did buy Winds of Change after I pirated it though, it was on sale).

I ADORE what we've seen of the art so far, the character designs are really cute and seem very in-line both with the characters, as well as just... being good! I love Rustys little striped tail and his brown ears especially. The expressions and movement is really good as well, I love the characterization we're seeing already with Rusty and Graypaws expressions.

I LOVE the inclusion of Princess! This is great for several reasons, firstly, it shows they are willing and able to make changes, something I'll elaborate on in a bit, and it also helps with the cohesion between Into the Wild and Fire and Ice. Fireheart randomly remembering he has a sister he's never mentioned or thought about ever in the middle of Fire and Ice was just... weird. Especially given how Princess is ALSO an outdoor cat who lives nearby, it's clear that he just. Wasn't written with a sister in mind. Having Princess show up as an established character BEFORE she's relevant is a subtle change I really like.

Now. To elaborate on changes. I am desperately, DESPERATELY hoping they change some stuff from the original books. While I think arc 1 is still worth reading, and still solid books, so much of it has aged HORRIBLY, namely, all of the constant horrific ableism that goes unaddressed and unchallenged. In an ideal world, they would

1. Introduce Snowkit before his death. Preferably establishing that the idea he 'can't learn' is unfounded (It is, IN THE TEXT ITSELF, shown that he IS capable of learning, given how Dappletail communicates with him through gesture. He is ABSOLUTELY capable of learning and it's ableist of the series to continue to shove the idea that he can't).

2. Have Fireheart either not make constant comments about Cinderpaw having a miserable life for being disabled (Despite the fact she's literally happy as a medicine cat), or have someone actively challenge him on this. This might not even be that big of an issue in the graphic novel if they don't let Fireheart's thoughts show up as often as they do in the books, as it's mainly him THINKING about how 'miserable' Cinderpaw is and not outright SAYING it, but I just found him incredibly tiring with HOW often he'd sulk about Cinderpaw during scenes when she was literally acting happy and healthy.

3. Give Brightheart more agency. One of the most shockingly ableist moments in all of arc 1 is when Firestar tells Cloudtail that he has to take Brightheart as an apprentice, that she'll never be a true warrior, and that she's entirely his responsibility now. While Brightheart is sitting with them. Firestar quite literally talks to her BOYFRIEND as if she's a small child who needs to be looked after and not like the fully grown adult woman she actually is. This scene could very easily be fixed, by just having Brightheart being the one talking to Firestar, and to get rid of the comparison to her being Cloudtail's apprentice. Brightheart going "Hey Firestar, I'm ready to be a warrior again and Cloudtail and I have some ideas on how I can best hunt" solves basically 90% of the problem. Also, remove the scene of Firestar saying how Brightheart being moved to the elders den was because she was going to have to be an elder. That's literally not even true, she was moved to the elders den explicitly because the elders liked having her around, and because they needed room in the medicine den, but Brightheart still needed time to heal. Firestar's literally objectively wrong there

4. This one isn't about ableism, so it's less important, but get rid of Princess's bizarre dialogue about how she "wants to decide Cloudkits destiny" and how Fireheart needs to "make him a hero just like him". It's baffling and it's really uncomfortable, why does Princess think she "deserves" to choose her kits "destiny" because he's her firstborn.

5. Also not about ableism, but I feel this is also incredibly important, don't fucking include the lines about StarClan being the reason Clan cats are moral. It's disgusting on so many levels how BloodClan is said to not care for the young, sick, or elderly ENTIRELY because they don't believe in StarClan. This childrens series should not have the fucking moral of "religion is what makes us moral", that's revolting. Just change it to its their lack of community, not their lack of religion

Ultimately, I think things are really looking up for the graphic novel. I'm certainly buying a copy, and I'm really excited to see how it turns out. I have some hope of them changing some of the worst parts of the first arc, namely, the limited ability to see Fireheart thoughts as often as the books do will most likely cut down on how often he's able to be ableist towards his Clanmate, but ultimately, even if they don't change the worst parts, I'd guess that the art alone would still warrant a purchase!

[frogenthusiastt]

19/sea change for prompt meme?

19. Sea change (totally read this as sea of change because i couldnt think of a single thing to match this prompt lol sorry)

The first lesson Nicholas is taught is loneliness.

At 8 years old he's long since learnt that he lacks the cherubic qualities required to be granted adoption by a rich, childless couple. He looks poor and desolate, sure, but not in the way that makes adults want to swoop him up into a blanket and coo over his poor fate. He wears the kind of thousand yard stare that makes them avert their eyes in discomfort, that reminds them of the casualties of poverty in the entirely wrong way.

Still, he has Livio trailing after his steps like a lost puppy. Together they learn how to live like weeds growing in the cracks of pavement, how to be alone together. It's a lesson to be learnt, for sure, how to keep the lights on in the dark.

The second lesson he learns is shame.

Mask clad adults, clapping and telling him welcome child, to the path of God. They pat him on his back and ruffle his hair, all gloved impersonal hands.

The Eye of Michael teach him how to chant the psalms, how to recount his sins and that salvation lies in abandonment of your body and acquiescence of pain. He's taught the vital points of the body and how to gouge knives in the hearts of men, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned. His body grows and grows into a holy weapon, and he learns how to kill a man without flinching. This is a terrible lesson.

The third lesson is pain.

Nicholas has known pain before, like a distant uncle. Now pain is his mother and father, his creation and Eucharist. Once he'd proven his body a worthy tool before Chapel and the acolytes, they take him apart into his base components and Unmake him into something inhuman. Terrible liquids seep into his body through needles and plastic tubes, for this is the Blood of the Covenant and through it thou shalt be made Holy. His flesh is carved and replaced, for Holy is the body of Christ and through it thou shalt be made perfect and free from Sin.

When he is lucky, they sedate him and the world becomes a technicolor kaleidoscope of visions to keep his thoughts occupied. He doesn't know if it's on purpose or just an accidental side effect of whatever chemicals they put in him but he takes it gratefully, thankful for just a moment to breathe throughout the nightmare of hurt.

He never learns what exactly they did to him, but when he's finally released from that terrible white room, he looks in the mirror and finds something other staring back. It takes years for him to recognize it as his face.

The fourth lesson is in efficiency.

Whatever it was they took out of him left an empty hole in his mind. Wherever regret or empathy used to be, only survival remains. Survival means to submit to the hand that's fed him, to take whatever chances given for a paycheck and the lives of the orphanage secured. He doesn't remember the faces of the people he kills, nor their pleas for mercy. He's a cold outer shell in the shape of a man, and so he becomes the employee of the month, of the year, of the decade.

The twist of a tendon, the flick of a wrist to sever flesh from bone, even the stab of a knitting needle through the head to save him the hassle of cleanup. These are the ways he earns a living, and he's damn good at his job. He steels himself against terror and lets the fear of fire and brimstone flow around him and through him like the hull of a sandsteamer, no worse for wear after he's crossed the sands of a thousand bodies piled underneath his feet. He becomes what he's been made to be, finds meaning in his function and keeps the lights on for the children at home. He's efficient, he's good at his job and that's all that counts.

His fifth and final lesson hits him with a truck. He walks in a daze, only half put upon to garner sympathy, and when he lies there bloody and disheveled hope walks out the side door of the car.

It is the most terrible lesson of all, the way the man calls him by name and looks through him like there is any softness in his body worth that blinding smile. Hope tells him that he's something worth salvation, wearing impossible blue eyes and the face of his brother. Nothing Wolfwood has ever been taught prepares him for this unwavering belief in goodness, the warm caress of a mismatched hands against his cheeks, the way he utters his name like it's something precious.

Hope finds him late at night, in soft touches and a hushed voice. Hope foolishly makes him stay in the morning when sunlight paints the white sheets wrapped around a body incandescent and flaxen hair golden. Hope puts his lips against lips, hands against hands, in desperate prayer to keep this one soft thing safe. Hope lights a fire against his will, forces his to look at his life with kinder eyes and wish for another day to come, and Wolfwood has asked for exactly none of it.

Hope laughs at his jokes and whines at his teasing and holds him trembling at night. If he was half the weapon he was made, he would cast it off and escape into the wasteland. It turns out the hands that fed him did a piss poor job of it, because he stays and stays and stays.

It is hope that has him rage at the dying of the light, knees bent in penance against the cold stone floor of the church. Blood splatters against it in a fearful rhythm, body contorted to support himself against the heavy weight of the cross. Still he rages, still he hopes, still he curses the God that made his fate. That he would learn his final lesson, as he lay here dying, must be some terrible cosmic joke from an uncaring creator.

As Wolfwood stills, he takes hope with him. It's the cruelest lesson of all.