#i understand your pov anon bc i had it even just a few years ago i was overprotective of transfems

[tirfpikachu]

damn son I'm literally a transandrophobia poster and I routinely rail against TIRFism and even I think your takes are wack. "AMAB privilege" GTFO with that man. we can lift up transmasc voices and promote trans unity and talk about radfem ingression into trans spaces without making this another AMAB/AFAB oppression olympics thing - that was the whole problem, we should be doing the opposite. stop taking words like TIRF and pretending to be against radfems when you're eating their talking points for breakfast

tirf means trans inclusive radfem, so tirfs actually are radfems! i am one myself. terfs aren't actually a thing - there are definitely transphobic radfems, but radfeminism includes ALL afab people, transmascs included. i'm still veryyy critical of how many handle trans issues. i reblog as much material as i can for my book, which very often includes not-so-kind terms/phrasing, but i do try to use language as respectful as i can in my own posts so i can have actual conversations with trans folks and trans activists, including saying amab/afab and agab instead of male/female.

i do believe that transfem people face unique oppression on the complicated axis of what ppl call transmisogyny. which imo is mostly a mix of sexism and homophobia if someone knows that person's sex/agab, mixed with conditional misogyny if they pass and live their life as afab. if they're outed as amab, they're seen as a gnc man again and with all the violent sexism that comes with that. it's a very complex form of oppression. i know they go through a lot of unique trauma, i'm not denying it.

but i also believe that afab people are uniquely oppressed as well.

if not, then what do you call this if not unique oppression? forced impregnation, abortion/pregnancy issues, period tax, lack of menstruation/uterus research & resources, afab bodies being under-represented in medicine which causes horrific things to happen, afab babies being aborted or killed at birth for being born with a vagina (afab) bc they're seen as lesser, afab upbringing coming with very unique experiences that amab ppl for better or worse will never understand (it is NOT a fucking privilege fuck you), being born with a body type that is very obviously vulnerable against people with penises sexually due to people with bio dicks feeling genital pleasure when they stick it in something, and god knows they will not give a shit about the person below them (look at fucking nature documentaries!!!). they will take off the condom. they will pressure ppl to do anal or give painful blowjobs. they will be creeps or jerks about pregnancy. they will generally put penises above vaginas and amab rights over afab rights, and this shit is DEEPLY ingrained in society. transfems being able to transition is very new, meaning that although they had many struggles before, they were not treated as female and had that (perhaps painful) privilege for MOST of human history. this meant being allowed to open a bank, go places without a husband, not being forced to be impregnated like cattle, not being forced to be a mother stuck in a kitchen, and having SOOO much more generational wealth at their disposal. afab ppl reading abt historical afab oppression is upsetting in a way that transfems will never fully be able to relate to. afab people have a deep, rich, unique culture and faced trauma for thousands of years and us being afab is not a privilege!! we have the privilege of not understanding transfem issues, sure, like a woman not being a lesbian won't face lesbophobia. but then again male-attracted women face violence from men in a unique way!! it's complex af when you're already marginalized

most ppl have an agab-based sexuality too, cis men included, meaning afab ppl are the ONLY *INTENDED* target of cis men's lust and sexual violence and whatever misogynistic bs they say about women, since most cis men are heterosexual. amab ppl face it, and it fucking sucks for them too, but they also only face it conditionally - the very second the cis guy realizes the person is amab, the usual trope is them throwing up thinking back on how they kissed and wanting to punch the "crossdressing pervert" EVEN if the transfem had every surgery possible and looked totally afab. they lose attraction, usually anyway, and physical violence linked to homophobia and gncphobia is the danger transfems then risk. which ofc is absolutely horrible, it can be life-ruining. but not an afabmisogyny experience. they aren't unconditionally sexualized. they are mistaken for afab due to all the surgeries and hormones they took. it's misdirected afabmisogyny due to ppl assuming they were born with a vagina and went thru afab puberty. and then harming them bc they see afab ppl as sex objects and dumb bitches, they see us being born and raised afab as a weakness. they hate us and want us for our sex/agab. most misogyny is about specifically afab people! and yes transmisogyny sucks, it should be called out too for sure. but when fem transmascs pass as transfem post-transition they always are open about experiencing misdirected transmisogyny and talking abt transfem rights etc etc. why can't transfems do the same with cis women and transmascs?? why can't they talk abt how transmisogyny & misogyny against cis women are both bad in different ways? it's always them being victims vs those evil privileged bitches!!

and not just quickly mention it but ACTUALLY speak up about it, uplift afab voices, and be genuinely good afab allies? where are the posts from transfems calling out transfems' afabmisogyny? why can't transmascs or cis women write posts abt it without being met by death threats and terf accusations? i know you think you can only further transandrophobia discussions by tiptoing around the existence of afab-exclusive misogyny. i know talking abt transmasc-unique issues already leads to insane amounts of bullying from afab & transfem folks. but i'm tired of transfems getting away with shitty behavior. i'm tired of cis women being only seen as oppressors against transfems. something needs to change. i truly believe that radfeminism isn't a lost cause, and in fact there are more and more transmasc radfems, and even transfems who are strong radfem allies. people are finally waking up to the realities of afab oppression!! they're finally embracing nuance!

misogynistic behavior from transfems gets brushed under the rug and them being amab is seen as completely irrelevant, anyone bringing it up is a bigot, while afab folks are more than open to their agab being a factor in conflict... it's unfair. as you've shown, transfems and the ppl speaking for them refuse to have nuanced talks abt afab oppression, they view it as "omg we're all oppressed!! shut the fuck up theyfab go bootlick those privileged cis cunts! no one wants to hear about your issues for longer than a minute, only listen to MINE!! being afab is a PRIVILEGE i didn't get to grow up afab stop rubbing it in my face!!!" what sucks is that transfems and transfem allies used to be soooo much more respectful of cis women and transmasc people's rights too. literally NO ONE used to say that being afab genuinely meant you got benefits in society. no one. like holy fucking shit. the past 20 years has been a fever dream!!!

i'm 100% for transfems living their best lives, transition included, and i've heard many horror stories of transfem-specific experiences i'll never truly understand. but it's not a strict oppressor/oppressed dynamic all the time. just because you're not oppressed on every axis of oppression ever doesn't mean you have no struggles. it's fucking insane that i keep needing to explain that to people, like oh my god do y'all not understand that someone can be both privileged and disprivileged in society in different ways, and might need to both have their voices boosted sometimes and ALSO need to take a back seat other times??? this ain't us cis radfems OR transandrophobia activists just playing oppression olympics. this is an oppressed group talking abt their unique struggles and being mocked to hell and back. and it's sad that it's seen as catty and selfish and bitchy. but as an afab woman i'm not surprised lmao.

and yeah you might speak on transmasc issues, but do you speak on afab rights? do you call out misogynistic bullshit that transfems say about cis women too? do you speak on cis women's oppression as well, about how they're oppressed by amab people too and are oppressed in a different way than transmasc or transfem folks, for being afab and ALSO identifying as women? do you mention how afab people are a uniquely oppressed class of people, or are you too scared of stepping on transfem toes bc they're seen as the top of the oppression pyramid and will harass you off the site?? why is saying that amab people as a class have privilege over afab folks on an oppression axis controversial? what about that feels like an attack?

if you're transfem or otherwise are amab and live perceived as afab, and you aren't afraid to recognize that afab oppression is its own thing and deserves its own voice and its own movement, ily bestie. i see you. i see more and more of you lately and it warms my heart. we aren't enemies, we can learn from eachother. thank you for working thru that initial knee-jerk reaction and learning to be a good ally to afab folks. i wish you the best <3 and if you're transmasc you DESERVE to have your voice heard too. you deserve to speak on afab rights and for transfems to want to be good allies to you too!! ALL afab people have unique voices that need to be heard for once!

#asks #this was long af sorry i went off lol #i understand your pov anon bc i had it even just a few years ago i was overprotective of transfems #i acted like afab ppl had talked enough and should stfu like they were the lowest bar of oppressed in society #that transfems had it worse by default and any talk of afab rights would make them dysphoric esp if transfems weren't centered #but EVEN THEN even when transfems are mentioned in afab-specific issues they STILL get mad #it isn't an amab/afab oppression olympics thing #and it's so childish of you to draw that conclusion #but it makes sense bc it's the current sentiment in trans spaces. any talk of afab-only issues makes ppl uncomfortable #any talk of transfems not only being the oppressed but also the oppressor class on a different axis makes ppl foam at the mouth #meanwhile afab ppl in general are more than happy to recognize they're privileged on another axis of oppression generally #why is that? #i'm tempted to say amab upbringing (and afab upbringing making ppl want to shield others at all costs esp amab ppl) #but i know now that i said it ppl will be even MORE pissed off #idk. i'm so glad i started recognizing my own afab oppression as mattering too. that thing where women are seen as talking so much more #than men even though if they talked the same amount? yeah. that still impacts things like this lol. identity doesn't change that #idk. respect one another and give equal space to all marginalized folks. simple easy and free!! and yet!!! #lay text #my words #radblr

[quidfree]

YOU are why I am intimidated so much by writing Bakugou’s POV lol your writing of Bakugou and Todoroki’s inner dialogue is incredible. Makes me throw up my hands, ‘see? That’s exactly how I see it! It’s already been said! What could I possibly contribute in a story of my own, lol?’

I just feel like you understand them so well. Your TLAAO is so nuanced and…admittedly, one of the few T rated stories that kept me reading despite nothing explicit (your most recent work on AO3 with the Bakugou crossover thing chewed me up and spit me out lol 😂, the line especially about people losing interest or stopping reading after the first kiss or hookup lol… I was embarrassed to say the least! But laughing all the while). Their chemistry though lol gracious, it’s intelligently spicy!

I guess what I’m saying is: I am supremely jealous of how you write them with such wit and crackling undercurrents of …idk, awesomeness. See? I can’t even adequately describe what your delicious dialogue does to me. Ooo, good word: scintillation.

Wait, I’m supposed to be asking a question. Okay, um, I talked myself out of my initial question because to ask how you get into the mind of these characters may be outside my ability right now lol hmm… maybe?…. In your opinion what do they, Todoroki and Bakugou, want and need?

Gonna go fuck off now and reread TLAAO because the story got me addicted to escaping into the agonizing slow burn 🔥 thank you so much for sharing your amazing stories and your unique POV with the world. I’m really grateful.

anon this is so flattering haha thank you. sorry for dragging you in the BL nightmare fic. and yeah, scintillation is a good word. definitely do not be put off from writing yourself because of my fic!

regarding your scrapped question about the minds of the characters, you're in luck, because i did answer a similar question like 2 years ago which i managed to dig up the answer to here

beyond that, regarding what both characters want/need... hm

bakugou wants, foremost, to Win. that's his whole fun dynamic with midoriya, right? midoriya wants to Save like all might, and bakugou wants to Win like him. now, with character dvp/trauma, he gains a more nuanced understanding of what Winning means to him- no longer just beating every opponent into the dust and laughing at them, but winning also by virtue of being a winner For Good- planting himself in opposition to the forces of evil by taking definite action for good, whether this be in kicking ass or ensuring those around him are also at their personal best to do the same, etc. still i'd argue even proto-bakugou does have more than just winning on paper as his Want- that's why he gets SO mad when todoroki doesn't fight him properly in sports fest, and why he spits on the league's offer to switch sides. he wants to be the best amongst the best, not just have the title.

what bakugou needs is more complicated. pragmatically he needs very little! and in canon he’s already had/is still displaying the kind of growth i would have said he needed early on- to become a hero ™ not just in name but in practice. when he’s at that point, what does bakugou need? maybe to continue to look beyond himself- in terms of being a hero for the people, but also in recognizing that having a community he can rely upon and bond with and open up to is in fact good for him. it’s not that he needs taking care of, even though TLC does everyone good, but i think some level of real recognition does both his ego and his fragile feelings some good- kirishima’s been such a positive influence on him bc of it. even my earliest fairly OOC tdbk works had that whole bit where todoroki gets on his ass about the fact that having people you care about makes you stronger not weaker. so i guess those two things are his needs.

todoroki, i think, is a little harder to pin down than bakudeku, since they’re helpfully explained to the audience by numerous other characters and by subtextual opposition. what he wants most consistently is probably to Do Good. originally this idea is very much just a kind of hollow motivation that exists purely in opposition to his father- enji is the Bad todoroki will be Good against- but it’s still somewhat distinct from bakugou’s winning thing, since he doesn’t care about the game in itself, just ousting his father from it. as the story progresses he very rapidly starts to take notice of the difference between him and eg midoriya iida or bakugou, who all have a lot more clear ideas of what their wants mean to them, and once he manages to unrepress a little he rapidly starts to flesh out what Doing Good actually means to him- protecting an ideal, standing for something real and alongside others, extending kindness to those who need it. 

what todoroki needs... he and bakugou are both very independent and start off very individualistic, so no surprise that i think that whole ‘people around you’ thing is a need for both of them. with todoroki, though, i think he’s less resistant to the idea of forming bonds; what he needs considering his fucked up childhood is probably more simple, like just having friends who consistently and enthusiastically care about him. that tethers him to the world, but it also heals some of the really dark things inside him that todoroki does a really good job of pushing past but deserves to actually address at some point.

#qui parle #qui repond #writing #tdbk #bnha #anon #characterisation #character study #shouto todoroki #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya

[dr3amofagame]

haha your snippit abt the dispenser got me thinking.

Dream gets let out of prison and he talks constantly, whatever is on his mind. And he's positive all the time. To a fault where people walk over him. And it doesn't make sense because he was tortured right???? But after an incident they find out it's because he hates the sound of silence and needs constant reminders that other people are there. Also he was punished for any negative emotions in the prison so his default is happy now,,,

hi anon !! this concept makes me SO goddamn sad ,, the idea that he Has to be happy bc anything else would mean punishment im so *punches the walls*

this ,, ficlet is honestly. pretty ooc, not really related to the ask at all, and mostly an excuse for me to cry abt c!dream and c!punz for an excessive amount of time (technically the vote on twitter was supposed to have this as c!sapnap pov, but i just wrote one for him so i went for c!punz instead. mostly bc i wanted to write him LMAO). hopefully someone enjoys it despite *gestures vaguely* all of that mess

tw: trauma, disordered eating, implied torture/abuse, blood, injuries, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional distress, thoughts of murder/mercy killing, mentioned animal death, dark content

In the end, it’s all rather anticlimactic, the complete opposite of Dream’s vault and the whole fiasco of adrenaline and theatrics that had made up that day. Quackity ended up having one too many drinks, bragged about the wrong thing to the wrong person - Punz doesn’t know the specifics, only knows that one thing has led to another and suddenly Sapnap was screaming at his ex-fiancé, sword pointed at his chest and tears streaming down his eyes in the middle of the Community House floor, everyone else stood around and watching. A look into Quackity’s office said everything he didn’t - the chests and chests of used and new tools, shiny and sharpened and completely rusted over with blood and everything in between. There’s been a balled up shirt in the wastebasket, completely unsalvageable from how saturated it was with blood, more red than white, and perhaps most chilling of all the calendar, marked with X after X in red pen, going back months and speaking to their utter failure to see what had been happening all but right in front of them.

With Quackity down, Sam caved not too long after, and with his input getting into the prison was no challenge at all. The only thing holding them back were bad memories and the tense, worried edge to Sam’s jaw as he led the small group of them - himself and Sapnap, actually entering the facility, Bad and Puffy waiting outside - carrying them through winding corridor after winding corridor and lava pit after lava pit, until they’d come to stand before a chasm filled with flowing lava, slowly draining before the main cell.

“I- I have to warn you,” Sam had muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant, “it looks…pretty bad,” and Punz would’ve questioned him further, but the lava had fallen far enough to reveal the topmost edge of the cell, so they let Sapnap hound the Warden for information as they directed their full attention on the cell itself and holy shit.

Nothing Sam said could’ve possibly have prepared them for the sight - it was a complete fucking bloodbath, crimson painting the walls and smeared over the floor and splattered over every visible surface like some abstract art experiment gone wrong. The stench of iron and burning flesh and viscera was awful, even over the gap marked by the still-draining lava. Punz strained his eyes; at the very back of the cell, huddled, unmoving, was a similarly bloodstained shape that must’ve been Dream. They remember the crack of Sapnap’s knuckles meeting Sam’s face and breaking his nose, remember themselves chucking a pearl and feeling along Dream’s neck desperately for a pulse - everything beyond that became a swirl of voices and panic and crying that makes their head hurt to think about, so they don’t.

Recovery is…messy. The physical side had been bad enough - pulling Dream out of the cell, barely breathing, limp in his arms and far too light, all Punz could think about was a sheep he’d found a year ago, frail and struggling to breathe, one he’d ended up killing - quick and painless - with a sword through the skull because it seemed kinder than letting it suffer. Watching Dream struggle on the bed, laid up in Bad’s mansion because none of them knew if he’d survive going any further, body resisting the potions they’d slowly forced down his throat after being so over-saturated on them, temperature spiking and heat baking into his skin like the lava from the prison had been imprinted onto his body, Punz feels the same strange mixture of pity and unease, wonders if it’d be a hell of a lot kinder if they just put him out of his fucking misery.

Still, because Dream is a stubborn bastard, against all odds, he ends up surviving - his fever breaks, the potions begin taking effect, and a few tireless, aching days later his eyes flutter open, lucid for the first time in a week. Punz isn’t even in the room when he wakes, only knows that it happens because the too-quiet room suddenly erupts in noise and activity, muffled thumps and sounds of a struggle undercutting Bad’s frantic calls for someone to help, anyone, and they run into the room to find Dream thrashing on the bed, wounds reopened and blood dripping onto the sheets, eyes wild and wide as his head whips from side to side so hard Punz is half-afraid that he’ll straight up break his neck. Somehow, worst of all, not a single scream falls from his lips, nothing but muffled whines squeezing past his mouth, clenched shut, and for a singular, awful second they wonder how long it took before he realized that screaming was useless.

Fortunately enough for them, or unfortunately, it’s not like he can tell the fucking difference anymore, the panic and strain end up with Dream passing out altogether, and they trade uneasy glances with Bad before going to clean off the worst of his wounds. If everything they’re doing feels hopeless, dressing up wounds that’ll be torn open hours later when Dream is awake enough to feel fear but not much else because he’s forgotten what it’s like to not be afraid - well, that’s for them to think and everyone else to pretend not to agree with.

Weeks pass along the same vein - Dream wakes up, panics; they try to calm him down, fails; he falls back into unconsciousness, and they move on and pretend that they’re cleaning up wounds from battle and not from someone that’s literally been tortured for months on end. People stop by, occasionally; Puffy spends more time than not inside the mansion, but hardly ever enters the door into Dream’s room, Sapnap and George drop by occasionally with potion brewing supplies that the rest of them can’t go out to get; once, he’d gone out to the front door to find a chest with an enchanted golden apple, sender nowhere in sight. He knows that the server is busy; Quackity’s admission had brought more than a few secrets to light, and from what they understand, the political fallout has been pretty damn messy. Still, he stays in the mansion, and watches.

He doesn’t exactly know why he stays. They’re not a stellar healer, not beyond what they know to dress their own wounds, and spend most of their time doing odd-and-ends tasks for Bad, who looks more tired than ever. Maybe it’s because he’s seen Dream at his worst more than the rest of them, had been there through his entire fall from grace, watched as his eyes became clouded with anger and madness and a single, desperate hope that he’d chased at the cost of his world and himself. Maybe it’s because they have no ties to the rest of the server - not to Las Nevadas, falling apart under the scrutiny of the eyes that now fall upon it, not Snowchester, caught up in the chaos, not the Badlands, half-dissolved after the fiasco of the Egg and with Sam’s actions having just come to light. Maybe it’s because above everything else, he feels guilty.

They’d thought the prison was the answer. It’d seemed too simple, back in that Vault - a perfect answer, because everyone else was perfectly happy to watch Dream die another time and some part of them had clenched painfully at the thought even thought they knew it was for the best. The prison meant that he’d be alive, if angry, and at some point when he had the time or the nerve or the guts he could go and visit, and they would talk, and Dream would be angry but with time maybe he could even understand.

They hadn’t wanted this. He can’t imagine anyone wanting this.

“Punz?” They don’t jump at the voice at their back, they don’t, but Bad still has a tiny, tight-lipped smile when they turn around anyway, eyes creased in the corners and still not as bright as they’d been before the Egg. Bad looks at him knowingly, setting a bowl of soup into his hands. “For Dream, if you can get him to eat.” He shifts a pointed gaze towards the door. “Maybe you two could talk.”

“About what?” The words come out harsher than they intend, and they take a moment to bite back the mostly self-directed anger that Bad doesn’t deserve to receive the brunt of. “I just-” he waves his hand in the air, trying to articulate the mess that is his relationship with Dream without the words to explain it. “I don’t know, man.”

“You don’t have to talk about everything,” Bad says, calm as always, eyes flicking down to the bowl of soup in his hands. “Just start with the soup.”

Punz sighs. “I’ll try.”

He enters the room in a single, fluid motion, mostly because he knows that if he were to stop at the door then he’d never actually make his way in. Dream flinches back when they enter, eyes going wide and stance going rigid, and the familiarity doesn’t make the sight any easier to bear as they wait, as always, for Dream’s eyes to clear enough for him to realize he’s in the mansion and not stuck in that same obsidian hellhole.

“I brought soup,” they say, finally, when Dream looks up. Dream’s lips twitch up in what he probably means as a smile; between the still-healing gashes on his face and the fear that flashes over his expression, still, it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Thanks.” Dream looks away. “I’ll eat it later.”

Liar, Punz thinks tiredly, moving closer to set the bowl down on the nightstand by the bed. They frown as Dream’s expression goes slack and distanced, again, eyes fixed to stare blankly at the wall once again.

“You should have some now,” he tries, careful to keep his words even. “You need the calories.”

“I’m good,” Dream says, automatic, just shy of sincere. “Thank you.”

“Dream,” they don’t quite succeed at keeping a displeased sigh from falling from their lungs, and bite back a curse at themselves when Dream pulls back with a silent flinch. It’s so goddamn hard, to talk to this version of Dream, both of them feeling around the edges of their relationship like walking on goddamn eggshells. A few months ago, he would’ve straight up called Dream out on his bullshit, get it through his thick skull that the whole ‘I’m fine and don’t need anyone’ act was stupid and completely failing to convince him. Here, they bite back another sigh, look forlornly at the bowl of the soup on the nightstand, sure to go uneaten once again, and force themselves to sound completely neutral when they speak again. “Alright. You’ll have to eat at some point, though.”

“Mmhm,” Dream hums noncommittally, once again staring at the wall. Punz stares at his hands. This is so fucking pointless.

“So,” they say after a few seconds, Bad’s words echoing in their head - they can try to make an effort to talk, sure. It’s just that Dream’s not going to cooperate. “How are you, man?”

The words come out stilted, awkward. He looks up to watch Dream’s expression, as the other man begins to gnaw on the inside of his cheek.

“I’m good,” he says, words deliberately light. “You?”

“Dream…”

“I’m fine.” Dream’s voice sharpens suddenly, breath hitching, before he shakes his head and turns his head away. “I’m fine.”

Punz looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious? Do we need to get into exactly how not-fine you are?” They wave a hand in his direction, jaw clenching when he rears back. “Do ‘fine’ people lose their minds from someone waving at them, now?”

“I-” For a second, Dream glares at him, eyes burning with a familiar, irritated fire that Punz knows all-too-well from having it directed at him a few too many times, before it suddenly dies and Dream is swinging his head back to the bedsheets, hands tightening on the cloth as he stammers. “I- What do you want?”

Punz breathes a soft sigh, regret blooming in the center of their chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles, careful to keep their gestures overly-telegraphed and away from the other man’s face. “I’m just- you’re not okay, man. No one’s expecting you to be okay after...all of that.”

“But why?”

Dream’s voice is small, nearly a sob, and Punz directs wide, alarmed eyes to where he’s hunched in over himself, knees pulled to his chest, hands staring at the sheets pulled over them. “Why?” he says, again, quieter, lip trembling slightly.

“Because you were tortured,” Punz begins, words slow as they watch Dream’s expression, trying to pull out the thoughts behind his averted eyes, “Because the cell was inhumane, and nobody deserves to be treated like that. Because you were hurt very, very badly because of what we did, and none of us are expecting you to be fine right after going through months of trauma.” He pauses. “You know that, right?”

“But I’m out,” Dream says, quiet, disbelieving, instead of answering their question. “I’m out of there. It’s over. It’s- everything’s good,” he whispers, more to himself than to them, hands curling into fists and then uncurling. “I’m- they said I would never get out. And I’m outside, and it’s not- not the cell, and I get real food, and Quackity doesn’t visit anymore,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut as his breath catches in his throat. “I’m happy- I should be happy. Right?”

“Oh Dream,” the other man flinches back, breath quickening, and Punz’s hand stops short from where he’d almost let it fall onto the other’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be happy, man. Not- not after all of that. Not if you’re not ready yet.” Dream’s eyes, wide and wet, rise to look at their own, and they feel more than hear the soft, wounded noise that leaves their lips. “It’s ok to be hurt. It’s ok to be scared. No one’s blaming you, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, more than anything, seems to be the breaking point, because Dream collapses forward, hands flying up to pull at his tangled hair before Punz manages to ease them away and into his own hands, watching as he grips onto them until his knuckles go white. His breathing shudders, quiet, even his sobs muffled as to make as little noise as possible, and they murmur meaningless croons and hums as he cries into their chest.

“I wanna- I wanna be okay,” he hiccups, and Punz smooths his hair back behind their hand.

“I know,” he swallows around the lump that has risen in his own throat. “I’m sorry.”

#tw trauma #tw disordered eating #tw torture #tw abuse #tw blood #tw injuries #tw unhealthy coping mechanism #tw emotional distress #tw murder #tw animal death #tw dark content #tw unhealthy eating habits #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !! #-> my asks

[iamanartichoke]

I wasn’t going to address this bc I’m pretty sure it will accomplish nothing bc people will believe whatever they want to believe - but, well, at least *I’d* feel better getting my side of the story out and then moving on with my life.

Cut for length.

I’m aware that the fallout of my “controversial” post has several people upset. I have seen, over the past 24 hours, several vagueposts about me. I have seen one user in particular (who I am not going to tag but I’m sure she knows who she is, what's up) make *several* posts about how I’ve betrayed her. I have seen that I am now a “toxic possie,” that I am gaslighting people into thinking they misinterpreted me, that I have “out of nowhere” changed, become toxic, or suddenly have a problem with people I’ve been mutuals with for years for “no apparent reason.” I have *also* seen that I don’t want to be proven wrong, that I can’t handle the inevitable backlash of what I’ve said, that I don’t know what torture is or what narrative framing is. And that I have been “pretending” to be on one side all this time, that I am now slandering the takes that I’ve previously defended, etc.

And I just need to say - for one thing, what in the actual fuck are you talking about by saying I’m GASLIGHTING you, but for another thing, if you truly think that my POV is coming out of nowhere, with no apparent provocation, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.

And I mean, that’s fine, whatever, but just for the record? I got fed up MONTHS AGO. Some of you I unfollowed a long time ago (thanks for noticing!), some of you I blocked way before my post was even a thing (what’s up!) and some of you I was never fucking following in the first place, nor have I ever even had a conversation with you (or if I have, it’s been brief and in passing on some post or another). And I wasn’t following you nor did I ever attempt to befriend you because I don’t agree with most of your takes and don’t want to engage with them.

To the person who thinks I deliberately betrayed them, specifically - I don’t even KNOW YOU. Most of the time I’m hardly aware that you exist, until your posts cross my dash due to the mutuals we had in common, and I’m not impressed with what I’ve seen. It’s not your response to anons that have sent you hate and death threats that I take issue with - obviously no one deserves that and you’re free to defend yourself from it however you like. My issue is that I have seen you and others hop on posts that started out either neutral or positive and turned them negative by reminding everyone that the series is harmful, that Sylvie is abusive, that Mobius is a torturer, that the TVA being fascist means that the show is pro-fascist (and I’m the one who doesn’t understand narrative framing? Please.) etc etc etc and it’s fucking exhausting. This has happened to a few of my own posts, too, and I’ve watched them spiral into seriously negative posts that I didn’t want my name attached to bc I didn’t agree w/ the direction the arguments were taking.

So when I saw you reblog my Mobius post and saw notes start coming in from series-negative people, I said, NOPE. And like I said, I’m glad I did bc the result was that I feel I ended up having fruitful conversations. I don’t want to be proven wrong? I WAS proven wrong. I ACCEPTED that I was proven wrong. I am FINE with being proven wrong. I’m not fine with trying to navigate my way through vitriol to defend myself against people who are so quick and immediate to accuse others of being abuse apologists, toxic, pro-torture, gaslighters, and whatever else takes I have seen in the last day, who aren’t going to listen to me anyway. I'm surprised I haven't been accused of being a terf yet (unless I have and I just haven't seen it). (And also I’m not taking the post down bc while I agree it was harmful, it was also productive and also it’s my fucking blog and I can keep up whatever I’d like, but thanks for adding some pro-censorship vibes to this dumpster fire.)

I haven’t “switched sides.” I was never on a side to begin with, which I have repeatedly said since this series started airing. I have defended a lot of you, absolutely, bc I don’t think anyone should be bullied for their takes and I don’t think criticism should be discouraged. I still feel that way.

But for months now, my efforts to be neutral and/or to stick up for people I thought were my friends have been ignored and unreciprocated, people I thought were my friends posted my meta in their discord servers to attack it, people stopped tagging their negativity, making it impossible for me to curate my fandom experience, etc. I have gone out of my way to apologize to people if I’ve hurt them, I have held my tongue so that I *wouldn’t* hurt anyone’s feelings even though I thought their takes were trash. All to no avail.

I’ve BEEN fed up. The fact that those of you this applies to are only JUST NOW noticing? Really just proves my point: y’all don’t actually give a shit about me, you’re just mad that I’m not holding my tongue anymore so you can go on thinking that good ol’ non-toxic artichoke is on your side. I'd say I'm surprised with how quickly you jumped to assuming the absolute worst about me, except I'm not surprised at all.

I am 1000% sure I am going to regret posting this, but I'm not unblocking anyone I've blocked, so if you have shit to say, go ahead; I won't be seeing it. Think whatever you want to think about me. If I haven't blocked you but you no longer wish to follow me or be mutuals with me or think I'm an asshole, feel free to leave. Peace out. I don't care anymore. It was nice knowing you until it wasn't; I'm 500% done with the way things are in this fandom.

#i'd say #not for reblog #but i can't stop you so whatever #edit: i privated this post bc i did end up regret posting it due to the overall tone of it #bc it's kinda unhinged tbh #but now that it's been a few days - i am not mad anymore but i'm STILL bothered #by how this all went down so i'm leaving 'my side' up for the record so to speak #hi i'm charlotte and my superpower is staying ever-so-slightly salty indefinitely

[daydreamrry]

gonna claim this emoji if no one has yet: 🃏 (the joker card i think… LOL) i’ve been a silent anon sending asks here ‘n there hehe but not anymore!!!

this is not holivia/harry related but i kinda just wanna rant, if that’s alright? i feel beyind safe here with all the anons and the mod who make this space so open and comfortable to feel and talk about things haha

i may ramble so i don’t even know where to start tbh but i have these two friends who i consider my bestest friends ever (almost sisters at this point) who i’ve known for over a year now. we’re internet friends and they’ve met a few times since they live on a few states away from one another (while im on the west coast) and sometimes i just feel like the outlier, or really “the friend who walks on the grass” in our friend group. if there’s some kind of animosity happening in the gc or im being distant bc of school, im the one who “doesn’t care about the friendship” or they think im “shutting them out”. we’ve had this convo like a few times about communicating and whatnot but somehow, it’s always me who is the problem. i agree with them when they say we’ve been drifting but sometimes it’s not just me who’s being distant but them as well and theyve acknowledged they need to work on it but it’s always me who is constantly apologizing for doing the “wrongdoing”. it’s always me who’s spending time reading their words to make sure im apologizing for hurting their feelings. it’s always me who’s trying to save the friendship? i messaged them an entire notes app paragraph about how them doing certain things gives me bad anxiety and they continued to do it after like one week lol.

there was an entire mishap today about an twitter account i have where i just rant to myself with no one else and have a non-harry tl and they got angry i didn’t include them in it. which i understand their pov but if no one else is on it (not a soul, just me), what makes you think i want anyone else on it? it’s nothing against them but i have close cousins i add on everything who i also consider my sisters and they’re not even on that twitter account…

they don’t really respect my boundaries after i’d told them certain things they do give me anxiety (which has gotten so much worse in general) example: ignoring my text messages for hours (even for the past two days) but continuing to be on social media even tho i texted the gc. yet they’re complaining im being distant or icing them out when they haven’t communicated if i’ve done something wrong…

i just feel so hopeless in this situation because i don’t have many other friends that i talk to and they’ve always been the closer pair in general. i’ve been dealing with so much in my life that i don’t talk about to them or anyone and my mind is just in constant overdrive with overthinking and doubts. i just feel like everyone is against me lately.

they claim they’re not trying to attack me or railroad me when this happens and we’ve hashed it out today but they’ve once again started ignoring me in the gc when im just trying to move on and get our lively, and happy gc back. and i have a gut feeling they texted each other personally the last two days they’ve been ignoring my messages in our gc like i should’ve guessed that they have, it’s kind of obvious lol.

sorry for rambling but honestly i kinda want some advice but i also just wanted to let all this out. im contemplating just deleting all social media (except tumblr and tiktok per usual) and staying off my phone to focus on school, maybe seek a therapist, etc. but at the same time, i don’t want to lose the some of only friends i have. im just not doing well right now and i don’t know what to do.

im so sorry for dumping this on you, mod, i just needed a place to rant 😭

looooove i’m so glad that you feel comfortable enough to share your personal thoughts and feelings with us <3

i totally understand what you are currently going through right now. this was me not too long ago and what i did was completely remove myself from that “friend group” and move on. i was also conflicted as they were my only friends but honestly, i found people who make me feel so much better about myself and include me in everything. that’s my best advice to you: distance yourself and move on.

i know it may seem hard because you think that they’re your only friends but really, you’ll find better people. trust me. and if you have a lot going on, take time for yourself first. your problems come before anyone else. take care of yourself and do what you need to do whether it’s talking to a therapist, meeting new people, talking to these friends, distancing yourself for a bit - whatever it is, just do what you think is best for you!

trust me when i say that once you figure yourself out, you will feel so much better. it may seem difficult now, you may be conflicted because you feel that you don’t have anyone else, but you will find other friends who will treat you better. it’s better to completely let go of people who make you feel guilty or upset than continue to be friends with them and allow them to treat you unfairly.

also, my messages are open if you need to talk or rant! you can shoot me a text anytime! always here for you 💛

#🃏 anon

[littlespoonevan]

yoooo i loved your little drabble about isak and even meeting in isak's first year at the bakka party! would you considering writing the same situation but from even's perspective? obviously you dont have to if you dont want to but i think it'd be cute to read how even spots isak from the minute he walks through the door and can't take his eyes off of him the whole time! maybe he even preemptively slips his # into isak's jacket pocket before meeting him on the bench bc he knows isak is special

anon said:oh noooo that little bakka party drabble is so cute! i’d love to read some follow-ups to this if you ever feel like writing more! kisses

anon said:omg please do a part 2 to even and isak meeting at the bakka party!!! it was so good i’m ENTHRALLED!!!!

anon said:Yesssss pleaseeee write part two!!!!

okay!!! so this is a continuation of the bakka party fic as well as even’s pov!!!! i hope you enjoy it, angels:’)

Part 1

*

Even goes to every single party he hears about in thenext two weeks, just hoping for a glimpse of Isak again. He’s still cursinghimself for not asking for his number. He’d plannedto but he’d lost his nerve a little when Isak’s friend had shown up.

He’d noticed him the second he walked in the door,expression piqued with curiosity and something that had almost looked likerelief. Even would have felt guiltier about staring at him but with him andSonja taking a break after one too many fights and the way Mikael’s smile hasbeen muddling his head recently, nothing fucking makes sense.

Isak though. Isak had made sense that night.

He’d watched him lean against the wall and lazilyglance around the room. When his friend had disappeared in the direction of thekitchen with a girl he’d seen the way Isak’s calm demeanour slowly grew morepanicked, looking around the dancefloor with an agitated expression on his facethat contrasted starkly with the easy confidence he’d been wearing earlier.Even had watched him escape outside and waited a healthy amount of time before following him.

And he’d just. He’d had the best night of his life –sitting on a porch swing smoking with a stranger who didn’t feel like astranger.

But he has yet to see Isak again since that firstnight. He doesn’t have his last name so he can’t look for him on Facebook. He’dconsidered asking Elias’ little sister, Sana, since she was a first year inNissen too but he thinks it’d probably raise too many questions he’s not surehow to answer yet. So instead, he goes to parties and hopes against hope thatIsak will show up again.

He’s honestly close to giving up, moping in thecorner at the party of some guy in his English class, when he sees him.

Isak steps through the door with two other boys intow: Jonas, from last time, and a blond boy. He hasn’t spotted Even yet – why would he? Even thinks, he’s probably forgotten about you – and hedisappears down the hallway after only a moment.

Even exercises excellent self-control and stays inhis seat, listening to Adam and Elias bicker about something and trying desperatelynot to watch the entryway of the living room for when Isak comes back. He does return a few minutes later, withouthis jacket and with a can in his hand.

Even completely checks out of the conversation aroundhim then in favour of watching him. He doesn’t know how long it takes but atsome point, Isak must feel him staring because he looks over in Even’sdirection and freezes when their eyes lock.

Even offers a smile and a tiny wave and he’s too faraway to tell but judging by the bashful smile on Isak’s face when he ducks hishead he’s probably blushing.

“Who are you waving at?” Yousef asks, making Evenjump and hastily look away from Isak to meet his friends’ curious gazes.

“Just some guy I met at Rakel’s party a couple ofweeks ago,” Even says casually. He resigns himself to not being able to talk toIsak just yet after that and allows the boys to suck him back into their conversation.He still tosses fleeting glances in Isak’s direction whenever he gets thechance and feels a thrill shock through him every time he catches Isak lookback.

It takes a while but eventually he notices Isak’sfriends peel off, presumably in search of a hook up, and when Even next meetsIsak’s gaze a look passes between them before Isak slips through the crowd inthe direction of the back garden. Even manages to last about sixty seconds withhis heart in his throat before he pushes himself up and announces that he’sgoing to get some fresh air.

“Want me to come with you, bro?” Mikael asksautomatically and Even thinks if it was a few weeks ago he probably would’vejumped at the chance.

Instead, he shakes his head. “Nah, it’s cool. It’sjust a bit stuffy in here, I won’t be long.”

With that, he pretty much hightails it out of theliving room and weaves his way through the crowds to reach the garden. It’sbusier out here than it was at the last party and he doesn’t immediately spotIsak until he notices someone sitting on the grass further down the garden, bundledup in a jacket with little tufts of blond hair visible in the dim light.

Even doesn’t run to him but it’s a near thing. This gardenis a little different from the last, wide and sprawling while also slopingdownwards towards a treeline. Isak is sitting about halfway down the hill,leaning back into the slope with his legs bent at the knee and his head turnedtowards the sky. He’s mesmerising.

Even sits down beside him, butterflies erupting inhis stomach when Isak casts a shy glance in his direction.

“Can I have your phone?” Even asks before he can losehis nerve.

Isak raises his eyebrow but his hand still goes tohis pocket. “This is an even weirder conversation starter than you declaring ussome reincarnation of Romeo and Juliet just so you know.”

“I didn’t get to give you my number last time,” hesays, plucking Isak’s phone out of his slack hands. “And I had to go to a lotof shit parties just to see if you would show up because of it. I’d rather thatdoesn’t happen again.”

Isak is staring at him, expression caught somewherebetween excited and disbelieving as Even folds his phone back into his hands.

“I wanted to go,” Isak says when he finally seems tohave found his voice again. “But I didn’t really know how to explain why Isuddenly wanted to spend all my time at Bakka parties instead of ones thrown bypeople at Nissen.”

Even nods, hoping he looks more confident than hefeels. He may feel like he might burst on the inside but on the outside heaffects a teasing smile. “Just tell your friends you met a devastatinglyhandsome boy who shared his weed with you. They’ll understand.”

Isak raises an eyebrow again before huffing out alaugh and shaking his head. “I’m not sure that they would, actually.”

Even feels himself frown slightly at that, shiftingto mimic Isak’s position so he can more easily bump their shoulders together. “No?”

Isak turns his head to the side to meet his gaze fora moment before he looks away, shrugging self-consciously. “I don’t know. I- Ihaven’t really-“

“It’s okay,” Even says softly when watching Isaksquirm makes his chest clench.

They share a look for a moment and Even feels himselfrelax once again when Isak’s lips lift in a tiny grateful smile. Then Isak’sgaze drifts to the sky again and he sighs. “Life would be so much fuckingeasier if I was a star,” he says petulantly. “They don’t have to deal withemotions or insomnia or anything like that.”

“Uh, I believe Stardustbegs to differ,” Even teases. It’s an attempt to make the crinkle between Isak’seyebrows disappear and it works. Isak rolls his eyes, mouth curving up in whatappears to be an involuntary smile.

“That’s a movie,” Isak mumbles then and Even knowsthat but considering the way he’s glowing from the inside out just sitting besideIsak right now, he thinks that movie might’ve been onto something.

“So you don’twant me to disappear through the trees to collect you a star?” he checks,letting out a delighted laugh when Isak elbows him.

“No, I want you to stay here,” Isak murmurs and whenEven turns his head he finds them only centimetres apart.

“I can do that,” Even whispers, feeling his throatbob as he hooks his pinky finger around Isak’s where their hands are layingside by side in the grass.

Isak lets out a tiny gasp at the contact but after amoment seems to steel himself and tangles their fingers together properly.

Even is content to sit like that for a while, staringup at the sky and revelling at the way his fingers are sparking where they’retouching Isak’s. He hardly remembers there’s still a party raging on behindhim, the music almost like a distant soundtrack to the moment than anythingelse.

They’re quiet until Even hears Isak stutter out abreath and then he’s hesitantly asking, “Even?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

Even turns to look at him and isn’t all thatsurprised to find Isak already looking back at him. “No,” he says quietly. “Haveyou?”

Isak merely shakes his head in response. Evenconsiders him for a moment, takes in the way Isak’s expression seems to begginghim to lean in in one breath and praying he’ll leave in the other. He doesn’t knowwhat Isak really wants but he can take a guess.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reachesup with his free hand to cup Isak’s cheek and, in one smooth movement, hecaptures his lips in a chaste kiss. It’s a barely there brush of lips but itmakes him feel more than he ever thought possible. It lights him up.

When he pulls back a moment later he feels hisheartrate pick up at the way Isak’s eyelids flutter open, mouth still partedslightly and looking so, so inviting.

“Now you have,” Even whispers.

It takes a minute for the words to register with Isakbut Even can tell the moment they do because a shy smile spreads across hisface and his cheek grows hot under Even’s palm.

“So have you,” Isak whispers back, hand hesitantlyreaching up to touch Even’s lip like he can’t really believe it.

“Still wish you were a star?” Even asks after amoment, voice soft and low.

Isak shakes his head, fingers absently tighteningaround Even’s where their hands are still held together. “Stars don’t kissboys.”

Even grins, nudging his nose against Isak’s andleaning in to kiss a boy with galaxies in his eyes.

*

#evak #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #skam #asks #Anon #my fics