#just like . really shaming parts of your community instead of going for the. ACTUAL PEOPLE WHO CAUSED IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dukeofankh · 3 months

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Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.

#me writing stuff #positive masculinity #menslib

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kissitbttr · 19 days

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how would frat!mig be in a huge argument w his girl?? idk a part of me feels like he’d be lowk immature abt it. of course he makes up to her un the end bc i cant stand angst 👎👎🧌

oh very

—

“so that’s it? you’re not even going to talk to me?” miguel stares at your moving figure, who’s hastily picking up a fresh shirt from the dryer. “never realized i’m actually dating a child” he scoffs when you don’t answer to him,

before the two of you started dating, you already knew how many girls miguel had swept off their feet. the ex-girlfriends, the jealous glares, the talking in between groups. it does brings the greatest displeasure in you to witness all of that. but miguel’s top priority is to ease your worries, and he doesn’t want to lose you over something that’s not worth to be talked about.

but the thing is, miguel sometimes forget how to set boundaries. almost like he’s not even trying anymore.

like today during practice. when you were practicing your tumblings and routines whilst miguel did his football drills. your eyes fell upon a familiar blonde girl from the volleyball team making her way towards your boyfriend.

it’s not like you don’t allow miguel to talk with other girls, you’re not as insane. letting a girl touch and feel his biceps is another story. you don’t need a damn book to know what the girl’s intentions are. obviously she was being flirty. blinking her eyes up at him, subtly biting her lip though knowing he’s taken.

the girl was previously known to be acting like a total slut. not that you’re shaming her when it really is a fact. prances herself around other guys even though their taken. you and gloria shares the same mutual dislike towards her when she had told you how the blonde kept trying to get into beck’s pants. thankfully, beck knows how to handle it.

so you waited. waited and watched at how your boyfriend would respond. instead he did nothing. nothing but a smile on his face without brushing the girl’s touch. they carried on a small talk

it broke your heart. and to some, it may sound a little bit too exaggerated but they wouldn’t know for sure until their partner was being felt up by other people and them not doing anything about it.

you were about to make your way towards the two of them, wanting nothing but to rip that girl’s hair off of him but stopping when your coach calls you to inform the practice is starting soon,

your mind wasn’t at ease for one bit during practice.

“i’m a child for wanting to communicate over what happened today? yeah, sure. talk your fucking shit, o’hara” you reply to him, rolling your eyes as you furiously toss your other belongings into a bag. “a real keeper you are”

the sound of his last name falls upon your lips doesn’t feel right to him. sure, you may have called him that in a fun manner but he knows that this time you’re actually pissed.

and miguel is not an expert at expressing his feelings and emotions. he’s got a lot to learn. the only way he knows how it to use anger and frustrations, which is something that he should control. especially when he’s talking to you.

“por el amor de dios! are you serious? we’re still on about that?! get over it, muñeca. it’s not a big of a deal!” he exclaims, removing his shirt before throwing it away on the nearest chair of his room,

“not a big of a deal?!” your tone rising as you walk out of the bathroom to see him. “you let another girl felt you up, letting her get close to you and you said that it was nothing?! are you out of your mind!”

“veronica and i were just talking! am i not allowed to talk to other girls simply because i’m dating you? that’s quite ridiculous, baby” he chuckles but there’s no humor in it, almost like he’s mocking you. receiving a baffled look from you.

“stop putting words in my mouth, that’s not what i said! you missed the part where i said you were letting another girl touching you, when you already have a girlfriend!” you point at him, trying to get him to understand but it seems like it’s no use. seeing him only roll his eyes and dismissing your words with a wave of his hand. it furthers your already broken heart to more pieces,

“fucking immature little shit” you spit, going back to zip up your bag,

he laughs loudly at that, shaking his head. “look who’s talking!” he turns around to face you. “i can’t control the people that like me, sweetheart. what am i supposed to do with that?”

“you really are entitled and narcissistic” you laugh sadly, “maybe try setting up boundaries between people especially girls? ever thought of that?”

“ever thought about not being insecure and jealous all the time? may come off handy”

and that does it. the words just pierced right through your heart, making you stop your movements all together.

never thought in your life that miguel would be the one person to say all of that to you. is that how he views you as? a insecure girl?

is it wrong that you love your boyfriend so much that you want him all to himself and for him to learn how to listen to you?

“if that’s how you feel, then maybe we should just end it here” your eyes turning glossy, trying not to break down in front of him. “if you missed being flirted by other girls or flirting back to your flings, then i am not stopping you. so instead of making me feel like shit, calling me insecure, we should just see other people”

that’s not what miguel had expected you to say. his blood runs cold, face faltering at your suggestion because that is not what he wants. not at all.

hearing what he just said to you makes him want to crawl into a hole and let himself die. he didn’t mean it! he didn’t mean what he said, he’s just grown tired of this argument that he wanted nothing but to end it. yet instead of making you feel secured and listen to you, he chooses the latter.

holy fuck, o’hara what have you done?!

“wh—n-no! muñeca, I didn’t mean what i said, i did—“ he stutters, walking closer towards you only for you to step back. “baby please i wasn’t thinking—“

“exactly! you weren’t!” you yell, picking up your bag and getting ready to walk out of his room, the frat house and his life for good. “i’m giving you, your freedom card from now on”

this can’t be it, right? fuck, no, no, no

“you’re not leaving” he says while trailing you from behind, hands shaking at mind in scrambles at the thought of you walking out of him for good. “y/n please—please don’t leave me—i’m sorry—i—i cut off every girls on campus if you want me to, just stay—please” he tries to reach out to you but your pace is quicker while walking down the stairs, ignoring the looks from some of his frat brothers,

shaking your head, you try to ignore the pain in his voice. part of you wants to hug him and tell him that you won’t be going anywhere. but part of you realize that this time, you need to put yourself first. because as much as you love him, you love yourself more,

this is going to be painful.

“that’s not what i want you to do, i just— i can’t do this, miguel. at least not now” your head shaking, voice lowering to prevent the eavesdropping ears from the kitchen. “i—i need to think, for a while. competition is coming up and exams are too—everything is just so overwhelming. i think we need a break. i think you need a break”

“a break?! I don’t need a break. i need you” his voice cracking, tears welling up in his eyes as he gathers your hands quickly and pull them into his chest. “i love you, muñeca—please—i’m so sorry—i’ll do better i promise. just stay, por favor”

his eyes are pleading at you, staring intently into your eyes as his grip tighten around your smaller hands. for just one second, you almost cave in.

almost,

you smile sadly, “just give it a week or two, okay? and we’ll see after that”

but miguel doesn’t need a week or two. he doesn’t need to see after. he knows who he wants to spend the rest of his life with. he knows who he wants to marry. he knows who he wants to have his kids with.

and it’s always going to be you, no one else.

however looking at the state of you now, miguel has no right to force you to do anything. he cares too deeply about you,

so he complies,

“o-okay” he nods and agrees with a heavy heart. “if that’s what you want—i’ll give you space, but just know that you’re the only one that i want. the only girl i want to have by my side. keep that in mind, okay?”

a small smile appears on your lips, as you reach up in your tippy toes and give him a soft kiss on his cheek before you turn around and open the door. giving him one last look and walk out of the house, carrying his heart as you do.

miguel breathes out a shaky sigh, watching the door closes. his tears are rolling down his cheeks without him realizing.

without you here right now, what else is he supposed to do?

—

don’t worry, i’ll make these two make up :)) i just think that miguel needs to be humbled rn lmao

also, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated xx

#frat!miguel

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babushkatty · 4 months

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Tranquil SAGAU - Part 6

-> Part 1

-> Part 5

With Dvalin gone, you were left basically homeless. Not that it was much of an issue, not really. The forests had been very kind to you -- you could easily live the life of a hermit if you so wished, without having to worry about food, water, shelter or animal attacks.

But it would also be horribly lonely. No compassionate silence, no background noise and buzz of other people scurrying around and going about their day without minding you, no one to speak to if you ever felt the need to.

You liked being alone, but you were still human and humans were social animals.

Soooooo, you promptly asked Crepus about working in his Winery in exchange for accommodations, because 'one that asks, does not stray'... or something like that anyways. Your sister always made her life that much harder because she outright refused to ask for help even when hopelessly lost or overwhelmed, so there must be something to the saying at least.

"You don't have to work to earn your keep, (Name). I'd be more than happy to house you as my guest for however long you want!" is what Crepus 'Sunshine Personified' Ragnvindr responded with.

Crepus used Puppy Eyes, it was super effective!

You laid defeated, a puddle of cuteness overload once again wishing for sunglasses to protect yourself from the blinding smiles and imaginary wagging tails.

Crepus was horrible for your heart.

Still, you would go insane if left with nothing to do for days at a time, so you went to turn the Ragnvindr library upside down with Crepus' blessing, a bunch of notebooks, a bunch of pens and a delusion that you'd do any actual studying in there.

This was Teyvat, but this wasn't Genshin Impact -- a library wouldn't have interesting lore, it'd have dry history and even drier geography, accompanied by boring economics and even more boring politics (which was a damn shame too, politics were so interesting when written right).

You never quite had a head for those, prefering subjects with more practical applications that could be practiced instead of having to be beaten into your thick skull until you memorized it just long enough to write the exam.

Though for some ungodly reason you still remembered that onions were actually leaves. It was one of the very few things you remembered from school, actually.

Probably the trauma speaking.

Still, you did find some interesting books - a diary speaking of the Decarabian rule, for example.

Today, I don my very own Windblume.

I can only hope Lord Decarabian never learns of its' significance.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The winds are particularly harsh today.

I am afraid, but I smile and play my lyre as if nothing were happening at all, like I always do.

Sometimes, I forget if what I do is to reasure the people or to delude myself that everything is as it should be...

Then again, does it matter when the result remains the same?

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are growing restless.

Their yearning for freedom gave birth to a small wind spirit that seems fond of my playing. It is an adorable being, even if it has yet to communicate with us.

It remind me of a newborn puppy.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are planning a rebellion.

I want to help, but how can I? I am no soldier, my strength lays with the pen and the lyre, not with the sword.

Ragnvindr told me there was no need for more warriors, that I was doing enough by keeping the morale up with my performances... I am hesistant to believe him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The little spirit has spoken for the first time today.

It said that it knew the song I was playing, despite it being a new piece I was in the midst of creating, and sang along to lyrics I had yet to write.

It was strange, but it made me happy nonetheless.

Perhaps I was strange too, for feeling that way.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

You had a suspicion on who the author of the diary was by that point. Maybe Crepus would be open to giving this diary to Venti, instead of it gathering dust on the shelf?

Idly, you wondered how it had survived so long, but figured Ragnvindr and his descendants took good care of it.

I met Ragnvindr today.

Something compelled me to share my worries with him, even though I knew he had enough weight on his shoulders and I ought not to add more.

"If you cannot trust in yourself, then trust in me and my trust in you instead" he told me.

It helped.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Meetings regarding the rebellion are more and more frequent. Ragnvindr, alongside a man named Amos, have convinced the Gunnhildr clan to participate against all odds.

I can understand their hesitance. Should we fail to kill Lord Decarabian, their legacy would be no more.

I admire their bravery.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The wind has long since realized change is imminent, even when Lord Decarabian himself has not - the little spirit said so.

King of Gales indeed, even the wind has rebelled against him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Ragnvindr speaks of a bad premonition.

In truth, my heart is uneasy as well, but how can I share those feelings with anyone but myself? It is not the time to bother others with my issues -- it is time to reassure everyone, to rouse their spirit and not to let fear take root even as they stand against a God. It is my duty as a bard and as a fellow rebel.

The Windblume feels particularly heavy as I write this.

I fear I will not live to see tomorrow's sunset, but I fear for my dearest friends and for Mondstadt even more.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

My little spirit friend is still without a name.

I know it does not bother them, they are the wind itself after all, but I would still like to give them a name others can remember them by.

A name that they can remember me by once I pass on, selfish as it is to bind an immortal to a memory.

But I am selfish, even if Ragnvindr may see me as a paragon of virtue. I am a human and to be human is to be flawed. I am not ashamed of it, even if I often feel guilty for it.

Perhaps it will be the very last thing I achieve in this life of mine.

It is hard to name them.

I've thought of many names up until now.

Caelus. Liberius. Aella. Calliope. Achill. Carmine. Hilarius. Hanne. Zephyrinus. Dieter. Sascha. Scilla. Paulus. Notus. Veronica. Agna. Vergil.

Those are just a few of the ones I discarded.

None fit.

I can only hope the right name reveals itself when it is time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

That was the last entry.

You closed the diary and carefully put it aside.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

It was not supposed to be mostly nameless bard POV via old diary.

It really wasn't.

Mans literally kidnapped the chapter entirely against my will while I was half asleep yesterday and attempting to write at nearly midnight and I was powerless to stop it, on god.

But hey, at least we got potential Venti bonding set up for the future?

I was planning for more fluff, but I also have no outline for this, so my chapters have a chance of getting kidnapped at any time.

✨BY THE WAY!!!!✨

The charm of spontaneous writing, I guess?

If you have something you want to happen - for example we're in the library right now, so maybe you want a book about a specific tidbit to appear - do let me know, maybe I'll write it in!

I had 2 tests and 1 retake yesterday and holy shit i got through all of them and tomorrow is last day of uni then it's ✨HOLIDAYS✨

✨Taglist✨

@game-savvy @chaoticfivesworld @mmeatt @avalordream @ymechi @andromeda-gay @naynayaa @undecidingfate @thedevioussmirk @tumb3ld0wn @balaur-bondoc @yi-chii @yarabutterfly @nervouseaglelover @vexingpraedyth @indelible-colouring-markers @whitefantasy21-blog @kapitankarate

#genshin sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #genshin impact #x reader #genshin x reader #isekai #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #self aware genshin

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 18

part 1 | part 17 | ao3

“I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t hate me I’m sorry, did it work? Don’t hate me. Did it work?”

“Dustin,” Steve barks. Dustin looks up, eyes bright; he's hugging Steve so hard it’s like he’s trying to fuse his face to Steve’s rib cage through his shirt. Steve scruffs him on the top of the head, rubbing his knuckles over his dumb baseball cap in a way he hopes is reassuring, and wheezes, “Can’t breathe, bud.”

The kid takes a hesitant step back, fists still balled in the fabric of Steve’s shirt like he might run away. Mike’s cowering behind him, hunched in on himself and nervously eyeing up the nail bat.

“So you’re... not mad?” Dustin asks.

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” Steve smiles sarcastically. “Hope you used that Butterscotch wisely, dude, because it’s the only one you’re getting for the rest of the year. Also, you can kiss your full candy bar trick-or-treating plans goodbye.”

“What? No!” Mike starts to whine, but immediately shuts his mouth when Steve glares at him. Then Eddie swoops in behind them, clapping a hand on both kids’ shoulders and nearly startling Mike out of his skin.

“And, uh, for obvious reasons,” he says in an acidic sing-song, “you’re both banned from Hellfire for the next month.”

“WHAT?”

Oh, this guy’s good.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” Mike pleads. “We’re just about to get to the manor’s secret passage!”

“Yes, and what a shame that your paladin triggered a hidden trap and got stuck in a faulty portal for the next four sessions.”

“Oh, my god! This is— this is—!”

“Payback?” Eddie sneers.

Dustin’s eyes are darting rapid fire between the two of them, and he elbows Mike in the ribs and hisses, “Dude, shut up before he kills us both for good!”

“Oh, my god,” Mike says again, face twisting through all five stages of grief.

“Oh, also,” Steve adds for his own amusement as he heads toward the stairs, “you two can clean all this camping shit up.”

—

“You play a good game of Punish the Pipsqueaks,” Steve grins, walking side by side with Eddie. "That D&D ban? Ouch. Keep that up and the moms will start recruiting you for babysitting duty."

“Oh, boy!” Eddie smirks. “My dream finally realized.”

They get back to their cars, and Steve shivers a little, the cold finally getting to him now that he doesn’t have the fight or flight to keep him warm. He unlocks the bimmer and slides into the front seat; cranks up the heat, his hands impatiently hovering in front of the vents.

Eddie catches the car door. “You’re really not going to punish them more?" he asks, leaning in, head cocked to the side. "I mean, no trick-or-treating sucks and all, but. Seems a little lenient, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does,” Steve agrees with a short laugh, “but see, the thing is, those two dumbasses are assuming that revenge is a dish best served cold, when actually?" He points at the house. "It’s a dish best served by Claudia Henderson.”

Eddie’s brows lift in question.

“I’m gonna call her tomorrow morning and say I caught them smoking at the bus stop.”

“Jesus!" Eddie laughs. "That’s diabolical.”

“And then I’m gonna suggest they do community service at the retirement home on Halloween instead of trick-or-treating, because Dustin’s weirdly afraid of old people.”

Eddie's laugh turns to a cackle, all his teeth on display, and the car bounces on its wheels as he leans his weight against the door. “Oh, man," he exhales, wiping the corners of his eyes. "Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Pretty sure we’ve only ever been on each other’s bad sides.” Steve’s joking, but Eddie’s smile slips a little, and Steve wants to take it back. Pluck the words from the fog of chilled breath hanging between them; tell him that they're not anymore, that they don't have to be again.

But then Eddie catches the bass line coming from Steve’s speakers and the grin comes back full force.

“Hold the fuck on," he beams, nodding his head to the beat and hum-mumbling the melody as the words come back to him.

Following the footsteps of a red dawn dance, we are entranced.

“Spellbound,” he sings, shaking his head in delighted disbelief. “I’m sorry, does Steve Harrington have a Siouxsie tape in his car?”

Steve’s face goes red. Fucking Robin. “If you’re about to talk shit about the music, I— I mean, I’m just the chauffeur, man, I don’t—”

“Relax. It’s not that, I just…” He raps his knuckles against the roof. Gives Steve a once over; smiles softly at whatever he sees.

“What?” Steve asks. Kinda likes how he has to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Nothing," Eddie murmurs, low and deep. "You’re just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Steve shivers again.

It seems to snap Eddie out of... whatever that was. “My bad, man,” he says, his voice back to normal volume. He apologizes for letting in the cold air and slips Steve’s jacket off, handing it back to him and shutting the door with a soft click, then he throws out a parting salute and skips off to his van.

Steve just sits there for a moment, feeling syrupy and dumb. Like there's whiskey in his chest, a full flask of it sloshing around behind his ribs.

His jacket smells like Eddie. Siouxsie croons in his good ear.

Spellbound, spellbound, oh-oh-oh.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters as he cuts the music off. He drives home in silence, the song still ringing in his ears.

—

part 19

first half of tag list below the cut comment if you want me to add you to the next one

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #st fic #my writing #my fic #robin WILL make a sonic witch girly out of steve

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pureastrologywisdom · 2 years

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ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔴𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫

I have already discussed the role that Lilith plays in a woman’s natal chart in previous posts. She is the darker aspects of a woman that we feel forced to hide, she is the ridiculed part of us where we are made to feel shame. However she also represents hidden power. She often shows us a certain issues in an area of our life that we find difficult to confront. A place where we can feel vulnerable and weak so we avoid it instead of confronting the issue.

In this post I want to talk about how Lilith can be the key to unlocking this hidden power that derives from pain. As you are probably aware there is this obsession at the moment with this dark feminine archetype. This topic of Lilith can relate to this subject. As is said it’s all about turning pain into power. Not being afraid to confront the ‘uglier’, ‘scarier’ and repressed aspects of yourself. Accepting yourself completely, the good and the ‘bad’. The light and the dark.

Wherever Lilith is in your natal chart is will show you where people have tried to take away your power or control you. I will say when working on this area in your natal chart painful emotions and experiences may come up, so be prepared for that. Just know that in the long run healing this part of yourself will do you so much good. W can transform this part of us where we feel shame or weakness into a part of ourselves where we exude power, and it can even be used for seduction - though I won’t be going into the seduction aspects in this post. I want to show you how you can look at your chart and see how you are affected (or how its showing you you are affected).

I am going to run through an example of how Lilith can play out in a natal chart:

If you have Lilith in the third house this may have affected your communication. This could have played out in a number of ways, one example of this being that you had people around you (parents, friends etc.) who tried to control how you expressed yourself. This could have been through emotional manipulation, invalidating what you were trying to talk about or express or having people around you who didn’t care for what you had to say. You may have also been repeatedly beaten down by somebody else’s words time and time again. It also could have been people using your own words agains you, turning you into the villain. As a result of this growing up you felt like you couldn’t speak openly to the people around you about how you felt or what was on your mind without feeling either way to vulnerable and overexposed or without people throwing it back in your face and twisting your words. This is a hard pattern to break, never knowing how much you should share or what to say. You may find confrontation hard. You may feel like no matter what you say people will always find a way to make it bad or find a fault. But once stop restricting yourself and letting other restrict you you will gain your freedom back. Your words will hold so much weight and power behind them, you can wield them as a weapon if you really wanted to. This is not to say you should, but knowing that you posses that much strength to that much potency will make you feel in control again. This is where the dark aspect comes in, knowing you could use this skill to destroy but choosing not to. Knowing the right moments where you can stand up for yourself and using the right level of force and confrontation. People will still try and control you but you hold your own power now, not them.

Once again I am never encouraging people to use this side of themselves with bad intention or for evil purposes, however to have your power back in this area you must know your full potential and capability. It can be scary when you see this dark side to yourself, but as humans it’s important to understand ourselves fully. Like I mentioned earlier, knowing the good and the bad. You cannot truly understand yourself until you know the good and the bad aspects. And like I said, it’s not actually bad, there is a potential for this to be used in a bad way but that is up to each person to choose what they do with their abilities.

If you want more detailed posts about this is am happy to make more depending on what you guys wanna see/read. Thank you for taking the time to read through my post and I hope you enjoyed

Lots of love,

Pureastrologywisdom

#astrology blog #astro notes #astrology #lilith in the houses #lilith asteroid #lilith astrology #astro tumblr #astro community #astro observations #astroblr

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catsolas · 7 months

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i can't take it anymore,

if you are not going to put any amount of effort into researching the experiences of actual mixed race people, please do not write about your white half-elf dnd/bg3 character as an oppressed minority

"not accepted by elves or humans" is such a vague statement, it's basically meaningless!!

even if you don't have a backstory fully formed in your head, your character does not live in a vacuum. "not accepted" by WHICH elves? WHICH humans? especially if they live in a sword coast city -- why would those elves and humans they pass on the street have any care in the world about their existence as a half elf??

is the character going in to elven grocery stores, speaking in elvish only for the proprietor to give them a weird look or a hard time about their accent? are random humans doing double takes before asking, well where are they really from?

(actual advice below (from a biracial person if that needs to be said))

half elves are really, really not that uncommon. even if they're a rarity in their individual community, that alone isn't a reason for them to be discriminated against. elves aren't a marginalized group in most generic dnd settings or Forgotten Realms! Not human =/= oppressed!

instead, think about what the character's upbringing would have been like and what cultures they were exposed to rather than shaping them on basis of race. a biracial character isn't just someone who doesn't "fit" within a binary system, there are a hundred other factors at play, too.

let's say their elf and human heritages are opposite sides of a riverbank. if they grew up on one side primarily (raised by the elf OR human parent), did they ever get a glimpse of the other side -- whether that was sun, moon, wood elf cultures, or any number of human cultures? what did it look like? did they care about it enough to learn more on their own, or were they content to turn their back to it and stay on the side they were at? maybe they never had an opportunity to learn more!

plenty of people irl have no connection to parts of their heritage. it's up to you to decide whether that is a source of grief, shame, anxiety, etc., for your character. there's no wrong answer, but it's important to explore.

if the character grew up separated from one "side," did they ever get a chance to cross that river? how? was it on a makeshift raft, undertaken at their own peril? did they have regularly scheduled ferry trips, wherein crossing that gulf was a pleasurable or hopeful experience? why did they seek to return or visit in the first place -- was it out of curiosity or filial duty?

if they're seeking a "home" to return to because they've felt out of place in other parts of the world, do they find that there? what about these cultures resonates with them, especially if they were not exposed to it as much from a young age?

can they even speak the language of their predecessors?

diaspora creates so many different environments for people irl -- some kids of immigrants never visit their parents' homeland, while others have the wealth and resources to return regularly. different amounts of grief and obligation are felt by everyone involved in both situations. many of those who leave the community are expected to send back money, clothes, supplies, etc., if they left for a "better life"; and despite their best efforts to maintain their ties to the community, they often end up estranged from their own culture and language over time as they assimilate into their new home. it's a devastating situation especially with the history of colonialism across the globe.

but with regards to fantasy cultures of elves and humans, the possible scenarios are just as endless! a half elf character could have easily been raised by a happy couple who made an effort to share their culture, languages, and histories with their child. conversely, they could have been raised by an elven parent who, still mired in grief at the loss of their short-lived lover, raises their child with resentment borne from that grief, or an overbearing, overprotective nature to keep this "living memory" of their love alive.

maybe the character was raised by a human parent who knows nothing about the elven culture their partner came from -- maybe they feel guilty they can't share it with their child, and maybe they don't. an inherent talent for magic from fae ancestry etc. could be at play here as well, which the parent might or might not be familiar with. something else to consider is that the human parent may only live for a fraction of their child's life even if they die of old age. (this is true in real life as well, obviously, but of slightly different significance here)

tl;dr you can play a half elf like they're a human but with darkvision, it's fine. but if you're wanting to explore how their mixed heritage would shape them, especially for backstory trauma reasons, consider in what ways they're an outsider -- and to whom.

#bg3 #dnd #idk i'm just shouting into the void #but genuinely hope this is helpful in any way to someone somewhere #one day i'll get to the weirdly polarizing focus on drow and colorism i've been seeing recently #sometimes i look at my tl and feel like i've been transported back to 1910 #and it's just about ELVES

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synthient · 1 year

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When Neo ruefully says that his video game self is "maybe a little too much" like him, the moment he flashes back to is his screen-selves yelling at the Architect.

Which implies that the one thing he feels the most retrospective shame about--his most embarrassing piece of self-recognition--is the one time in reloaded+revolutions that he allowed himself anger.

And note that he didn't even really allow it. At most, that was the Architect holding up a mirror to the inner feelings that Neo was outwardly, and successfully, repressing.

In the trilogy, Neo's emotional repression is part of his character-defining selflessness. He's a martyr, he's a monk, and he's completely subsuming his personal feelings into the role of the One.

In resurrections, Neo is still emotionally repressed (despite-slash-because of the Analyst's "adaptive anger" therapy), but it's taken a new form. Instead of stoic immovability, Neo has leaned into meek accommodation. His body language is curled inward, like he's afraid of taking up too much space. He doesn't speak up for his artistic vision. He doesn't stand up to Smith (while flashing back to the version of himself that was still capable of flipping him off). Any genuine thought or feeling he has must be delusional, and something he needs to stamp out.

(If we could read trilogy Neo as a deadening, reflexive performance of masculinity, then resurrections Neo is being just aware enough of your transfemininity to spiral about how it would be unforgivably inappropriate to even speak to the cute woman at the coffee shop)

This is encapsulated in Neo's fight with Morpheus 2.0. Neo has lost all will for self-defense. He's the perfect punching bag.

Which is the point where Morpheus, and the movie, suggests: maybe our Ultimate Martyr could stand to be a little more selfish!

In the trilogy, it was Smith’s selfishness (literally turning the entire world into an extension of the self) that made him Neo's dark mirror. In Resurrections, Smith is still narrowly focused on his own freedom and self-actualization--to which the movie pretty much takes the approach of "and good for him ☕️". Trinity also gets to embrace selfishness, finally prioritizing her own desires over tending the needs of the nuclear family.

What's interesting, I think, is that this doesn't really end up extending to Neo himself.

Morpheus and Smith both try to prod Neo into fighting for himself--for his life, for his freedom, for his pride, for the basic things he deserves as an autonomous person--and they both fail. Ultimately, Neo can only be talked into fighting for Trinity.

There are a few different interpretations of this we could take. If Trinity is in part a symbolic representation of Neo's ideal self, then maybe freeing her is his act of self-actualization and self-love. Or maybe a healthy amount of selfishness is a nice thing to strive for in the long term, but not something Neo's going to Fix about himself within 48 hours.

Or maybe it's something he'll never really "fix" at all. Maybe being Thee Martyr Complex Guy is just too central to who he is as a person. In the best case scenario, the people who love him can talk him down from his most self-destructive/self-abnegating impulses. Bugs can drag him back from the edge. Morpheus can remind him he deserves better. Trinity can get violent revenge for the both of them.

Not an individual bootstrapping of selfhood, but selfhood based in communal support.

#the matrix #long post #yes i am coping w stressors via infodumping #why do you ask

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peppertaemint · 6 months

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I've always felt that the jikookers vs. taemin feud kinda mirrored the taekookers vs. jimin situation, but at a much smaller scale, of course. I agree with you that they feel threatened by taemin's indisputable stature as an artist, as it disrupts the narrative that bts is always the first and always the best at everything, and also because jimin looks up to him and is influenced by him (as if it wasn't obvious enough before, now we got the confirmation from the man himself, thank you very much). This reminds me of taekookers getting mad at jimin for standing out so much as a performer. I mean, he obviously does, that's why they're always all up in his business instead of focusing on their favs' "records". Also, they hate the fact that they're close because they read taemin as queer, which makes them think that they actually might have kissed, once, at a party (just once). Kookie's friends look straight enough to them, so they can stay. A bit homophobic if you ask me. I'm sure that if we saw taemin around jimin publicly more often, he would've been already promoted to the same The Other Woman™ role jimin occupies for tkks. And besides all that, I could write an essay on why jimin's friendships have always been under scrutiny because many people can't take the fact that he has more going on in his life besides being the members' cheerleader and jungkook's devoted wife, but that's a different topic.

Thank you for this Ask, Anon. You raised a lot of salient points here. The one I'm gonna pick up on is Taemin's perceived queerness, with emphasis on perceived.

There is an odd thing that happens with non-fans. They mostly think he's gay, that it's obvious, and they don't really like their favourite having a connection to him. While, within the fandom community, shawols cannot decide if they think he's gay. If you were to ask around, you'd get quite a few different opinions.

I find it interesting because the "outside" community has very specific and strong opinions of him. I connected with a Korean-American lady in her 50s a while ago and talked about all things Kpop. She wasn't a shawol. One of the first things she said, unprompted, was, oh Taemin, he's gay but can never come out, what a shame/challenge for him (I was chatting from a 2Min account, just for context). I was a little floored at how readily she shared this fully-formed opinion.

It seems the world outside shawols have already made up their minds about him, in one way or another. I think about when he was young and had that beautiful long hair, but his frame was still so slight that the gender confusion for an onlooker was understandable. It must have been hard to have the world decide that you were sitting somewhere on the trans spectrum. And to know everyone thinks they know you're gay.

There is a zero percent chance of him not feeling these things, and he's certainly done both reactionary hetero-leaning performances and queer performances. Pretty Boy is and Internet War are the first that come to mind. And it's worth remembering that sometime in the early 2010s, there was a Korean news report about homosexuality in kpop idols, and he and Jonghyun were named in it (as a couple, I think 💀).

I don't love the song Pretty Boy, but the choreography with its military steps and these lyrics have a lot to say.

Hey you, tough guy / Relax your hardened shoulders / Hey feel the way I move

I’m like a speeding train / You’ll be surprised / Look at that poor girl, I hope you notice / She says “you’re a guy so…” like a habit / Why is being sensitive and prepared the opposite of being a man?

Cause I do it I do it for you / I won’t pretend to be innocent like a puppet / Everyone talks so easily

I may always seem pretty, I may always seem good / I may seem nice, I may seem soft / But that’s all a part of your imagination that’s over my head / (Pretty Boy)

youtube

#kpop and gender #kpop and queerness #taemin #lee taemin #taemin Ask

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gatorlovebot · 6 months

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Love, everytime you mention me or that you want more of my thoughts, I happy stim. You can bug me for my thoughts at any time, and I’ll only take it as a compliment, don’t worry. But since you asked about collaring Simon here are some of my thoughts, as a treat for you 😘 we will call this part one, where you discuss collaring without doing it yet

I think that it’s a multiple day discussion first. You first have to explain to Simon the meaning of collaring, then the different types of collars you could give him, how that may affect the dynamic, and each time you give him time to think over what it is he wants. When he comes to you and says that he likes the idea of collaring, you move on to logistics.

You bring up that while you would love to properly collar him with a more classic collar, you are worried having something around his throat that sits so closely to it will make him feel choked and claustrophobic, instead of grounded and comfortable in your dynamic, not to mention that he’d never be able to have a day collar to wear constantly since he is in the military. You’d thought of a ring, as it could be slipped onto his dogtags when not in scene, but that would make Simon too nervous in case an enemy spots it and also if you ever give him a ring, you want it to be when he takes your last name (because like hell are you allowing him to keep that cunt’s last name when you have one so much better for him). So you bring up bracelets. One for scenes that has an o-ring on it that you can attach a leash to, that wouldn’t make him feel choked or trigger any of the trauma he has with being restrained or what not with his neck, while still being able to take your puppy on a walk. And, if he wants a day collar/permanent one, you can get one of those permanent chain ones that really just look like a chain that soldered onto people. It would be small/simple enough that no one besides the two of you would think anything of it, and since he always wears full sleeves and gloves when in the field, he could hide it while still wearing it. You could even get a matching one on your own wrist or on your ankle depending on what he feels more comfortable with. You stress that Simon can decide to do both these things, only one of them, or none of them, and that it will never change how much you love him and will not change the dynamic unless he wants it to. You stress that this was just the best solution you thought of, but that the two of you can continue to workshop it, as well as experiment with different methods until you find one that works best for Simon. That there is no shame in saying that you like the idea of a collar but the reality is too overstimulating and overwhelming to actually do. There are plenty of things in kink, and just in life, that are better as fantasies than reality. If Simon finds that collars fall into that domain, that’s completely fine, you both will just have to discuss if he wants you to bring it up as dirty talk during scenes or if he just wants to keep it as a private fantasy for himself.

Simon is near tears during this discussion, but they’re happy tears. You see him so completely: you don’t try to gloss over his trauma and say “it’ll be fine, it’s not a big deal anyways so he should be fine”, you take the time to account for the different ways it may come into play and try to accommodate it the best you can while still communicating to him that your insights are limited so he will take the lead in deciding his own comfort. You dont try to lead him to ideas you think are best, or try to manipulate him into going along with them, instead the whole time you are involving him in the process and waiting for his guidance. Even with all the trauma, with all the shame and pain he deals with, you see them and don’t love him despite them but regardless. This conversation is one of the many that drives home to him just how much you love him, and it fills him with so much gratitude and love for you that it feels like it is overflowing from his soul, like no words or actions or amount of time will ever be enough to show you just how much love he has for you. It overwhelming in the best of ways, and he is more certain than ever that he wants to wear the proof of his devotion to you on his body and soul for the rest of the world to see. His inner monologue as he gazes at you for the rest of the night is just “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you” and it’s the truth.

He loves you.

-🐶

anon, you have a way of making me so emotional with your concepts, oh my god <3

most conversations like this have to be multiple days. it just takes him a little more time to process things. like it takes him a full day to even be able to look you in the eyes after you bring up that you would like to collar him. he spends the day spiraling between blushing to himself at the prospect and then feeling ashamed about wanting to be collared like an actual fucking dog.

but he finally allows himself to come to you and say yes, this is what i want because that's why this whole dynamic is about him, him fully accepting himself and his desires.

i think he really wants to wear a collar around his neck because he just wants to be normal and doesn't want you to have to make accommodations for him. but then you're pulling out your laptop and showing him all these different bracelets you can get him, different materials and colors and he's just sat stunned at the amount of time and effort you've put into this. for him.

you go out to one of those places that does the forever jewelry. getting dainty little chains soldered onto your wrists and then when you go home you slip the leather bracelet around his wrist as he falls to his knees in front of you, nosing underneath your shirt and letting his head rest against your warm skin as he sinks further and further into puppy space.

i like to view the puppy dynamic as simon's way of saying, i trust you. he allows you to see every part of himself because you've proven time and time again that you can handle every part of him. that you want every part of him. when he allows you to slip a leash into the o-ring of his bracelet and he spends the day following you around the house it's his way of saying i trust you with all of me, my wants, my needs, my body, my soul.

#thank you anon so much for continuing to treat me to your thoughts #always feel free to come into my inbox whenever you want to you never have to wait for me to say something #it's always a wonderful surprise when you send me something #couldn't really match your beautiful energy tonight bc i'm just feeling bad and off #but this message made me feel so many feelings i really love this universe that we're creating #🐶 anon #puppy simon

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aeide-thea · 11 months

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From a thread by Twitter user @mykola:

Ok, so, the following thread is going to be dense. I have a model of what I call "Identity Trauma" that is not exclusive to Neurodivergent people but so common among us that almost nobody can actually see it. Let me tell you a story.

When you are an infant, and you have needs that other people don't understand, nobody will be able to meet those needs. And so you grow up, from a very early age, with the empirical, evidence-based understanding that parts of you are not valid. Those parts don't shut up, tho!

Maybe you're an Autistic kid whose hearing is so hypersensitive that it's physically painful to you to be around your (large, joyful, boisterous) family. Maybe you're ADHD and your emotions are so strong that Everything! Feels! Extreme! Always! Whatever it is? It's not welcome.

And like, you try over your early life to communicate to people about this thing. And they don't believe you. They tell you "sometimes people are loud when they're happy, it's ok, don't be scared!" or they tell you "stop with the dramatics, you just want attention."

Every attempt to inhabit your full self is somehow curtailed, cut short, and you receive anywhere from a tiny bit to a WHOLE LOT of Shame for it. This leads to cognitive dissonance: do you listen to the part of you that says "this can't continue", or your caregivers?

(And remember, you're like six.)

The choice, for a sadly enormous percentage of us, is to trust our caregivers. They assure us we're fine. They assure us everyone deals with this, that if we just try a bit harder then we'll be okay. That part of us that's screaming? We start to wall it off.

It turns out we've got a lot of really useful construction material laying around in the form of shame. Every time that pain tries to get out? It gets shamed back in. So we just finish the process, seal it in.

Bliss.

Relief.

We can't hear the screaming anymore. We can now focus on making sure we trust our caregivers, instead. Except. By walling off that voice, that pain? We've walled off our relationship to our body. But something VERY IMPORTANT lives there: our identity.

Your identity is who you are. It's everything you know to be true, everything you value, everything you feel. It's the name for the sum total of the enormous Thing that you are. One part of that thing is letting you know about unmet needs. But it does so much more.

It answers every question you need to ask yourself. How does it answer them? By thinking about it? No. It uses embodied, somatic, axiomatic knowledge. This is important, read this a few times: It is not cognitive. It doesn't feel like thinking. It feels like feeling.

[…]

Emotions are one of the ways our body communicates with us. With one exception, emotions are signals from your body to your self. That exception is shame.

Shame is the only emotion that originates externally. Shame comes from other people instructing us to feel it. That's it. And if you are cut off from your body? It is literally the only emotion you are really in touch with. And so you organize your WHOLE LIFE around it.

Listen, this model I'm describing? This is codependency, right? Because what's happening: your "core" self, your embodied axiomatic somatic source of truth, is gone. So your identity is not grounded in your body. Where is it grounded? In the approval of those around you.

If you're dealing with this shit, I will now perform a magic trick and tell you something about yourself that you will realize you have always known but that nobody has ever pointed out before. There's a special class of relationship in your life. It's not friend, parent, lover or anything else you'll find a hallmark card for, although it frequently coexists with some of the people in these roles. But the special class of relationship you have is that set of people that you trust to tell you who you are. You have complicated feelings about them.

These are the people that you have tasked, often without their knowledge or their consent, to serve as the grounding for your sense of identity. They are your surrogate embodied self. And they hold unfathomable power over you. (This is why we are so susceptible to abuse.)

Healing is in part about taking back those parts of you that you have invested in other people. That was never a gift to them, that was not about love -- that was an abdication of your responsibility to be a PERSON. It's not your fault. You didn't know. Your self was taken.

#the psyche #useful reframings #open to feedback on the formatting here‚ honestly #originally i was just going to put every tweet in as a link and let tumblr do its automated screencap-and-transcribe thing #but i found all the extraneous visual noise (repeated username‚ &c) really fucking distracting #so hopefully this is a decent balance of readable and clearly-not-mine #anyway some of this was old news to me but i did find the particular framing of it compelling

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spindrifters · 1 year

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dude i really dont know how to tell you this in a comprehensible way but im just so in awe at you. i've been following your blog for maybe two months or smth bc of the constant wolfstar spam and really enjoy that.

but also i find it so so nice to see an adult in fandom that is comfortable with being an adult in fandom. i've seen lots of people turn away from fandom activity as they grow older (especially from harry potter related stuff. ig it becomes embarrassing for people) but i couldn't imagine that for myself as it is a big part of my own life. why would i stop engaging in a community that shares art and stories and beliefs?

(also as i'm a nonbinary teenager my heart just kind of jumps seeing an adult whos comfy presenting themselves like that on the internet. i'm finishing school soon and growing into the age where lots of people in my social circle seem to expect from me to grow out of this "phase". ALSO i make art myself and its just cool to see "real" writers in fandom. (i really hope me telling you this doesn't bother you.))

i just wanna tell you that your silly little posts always make me giggle and this blog feels like its own little safe space :) hope you're having a nice day <3

I want you to know that it really made my day to wake up to this.

I remember being a teenager and seeing my 30+ fandom friends and just sort of thinking well that's great for them, but there was an underlying assumption that I'd probably grow out of it by then. which made me really sad, but I assumed it was just a natural part of growing up. and then I didn't grow out of it. but more importantly, like you've said, I became really comfortable with it. if football fanboys can have their niche obsessive interests their whole life, then so can I. that's something that happens across the board, at least in my experience. I hit 27 or 28 I think and started embracing things I thought I'd have to put away as an adult, only now I had the freedom to do it in ways I didn't when I was younger. (I'm not just talking fandom. I'm talking dying my hair pink after 7 years of blonde because it made me happy and I stopped caring about it looking professional.)

and I do think part of this is because there's no actual way to 'be an adult.' part of that's because the markers and milestones boomers and much of gen x had don't really exist for us anymore. so you get older and it's a realization that, "I don't have to look and act like an adult. an adult looks and acts like me, because that's what I am." and then you start to meet other people who think similarly. the community of 30+ fans here on tumblr dot com are honestly some of the best people I know.

anyway, all this is to say, I so remember what those growing pains you're going through/can see on the horizon were like, especially relating to the interests I had that society messaged to me were shameful to have. I was a teenager during peak fangirl shaming of the 00s/10s. so I turned it into a fucking career instead.

I'm really, really glad that this feels like a safe space for you, it makes my lil gremlin heart very cozy and warm. xx

#lovely things people say to me #ask box

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down-in-devildom · 2 years

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Community Theater

Jealous!Bakugo x GN!reader

Being a part of the theater club hosted by your local community center was just another way to pass time. As you get older, it becomes blatantly obvious that making friends has become increasingly harder to do and most of the friends you have are all somehow tied to your workplace. Not that there was anything bad about having work friends, but when the only thing you had in common with your peers is your career choice, you kind of start feeling caged in with the amount of small talk that gets circulated.

So, that brings you to the present moment. Sitting on the ground of the rec center while you try your darndest to sew a stray string of pearls back onto the dress it popped off of. You have been making decent work with the repairs but it feels like you have been at it for hours and your fingers are starting to cramp up. Honestly, why in the world were you being so meticulous about this? You finished up patching little tears and rips in the other costumes already and this one detail in the lead female’s costume will hardly even show in the grand scheme of things. A shadow seems to rise up out of nowhere and block what little lighting you got from the fluorescents.

“How long do you plan to just stare at the damn thing instead of being useful and fixing it?!” came a rather irritated voice from above.

You look up and can’t help but shudder when you lock eyes with the intense stare of one Bakugo Katsuki. His blond hair looks like it is exploding from his head and the lighting that filters through the edges almost appears like a halo. And that will be rather fitting, actually. Bakugo was handsome but his temperament was less than desirable and he was a bully. He stomped around the backstage area all the time and terrorized everybody with his loud and brass personality. But it wasn’t like anybody would stand up to the guy. He was casted as The Phantom in the upcoming play and anybody who came to any of the practices would know he fit the role perfectly. His voice was phenomenal. Raspy and deep, it honestly felt like he put all his love and devotion into his singing. When he acted on stage, it felt like he demanded all eyes were on him. He was like an angel of death and destruction and Bakugo knew it as well.

You have to shake your head to stop staring at him after he raises an eyebrow at you when you don’t give him a response. Bakugo huffs before plopping down next to you on the floor, his indoor shoes ending up on the pure white ball gown you were working on.

“Hey!” you exclaim before swatting at his feet for him to move them. Bakugo just gives you a lazy smirk but makes no move to get off of the dress.

“You have been over here staring at the damned thing for so long, I thought your brain finally quit on you. Would be a shame to have lost the only other person with a single thought going on in their head,” he groused.

Bakugo was, how do you put it, basically the only person you talked to in the entire theater. It was tragic, really. You came to make friends and it seemed like from the first day you joined, people avoided you like the plague. Now, you are under no illusion that it wasn’t partly Bakugo’s fault.

On the first day of you joining the costuming crew, Bakugo came bursting into the dressing room yelling at random people about his shirt being too tight. He was on a rampage and everybody else was trying really hard to step out of the way. When he got around to getting up into your face, you looked him directly in the face and reached for the top three bottoms of his dressing shirt that were left open, exposing his firm chest. It seemed like the whole dressing room held its breath as you fiddled with the bottom-most button. Even Bakugo was frozen, his face still pulled back into a snarl and his eyes bloodshot with rage but not a muscle moved as you gave up on closing the shirt that was stretched too thin and made to start smoothing down the wrinkles around the chest.

You weren’t sure why you did what you did but it seemed like your lack of reaction to Bakugo’s wrath calmed him down just enough to scoff at you.

“What? Now the fucking helpers are feeling me up?”

You seemed to snap out of whatever daze overcame you and you looked up slightly into piercing red eyes. His mouth was pulled into a cruel smirk and his head seems to have gotten closer to you when you weren’t paying attention.

The moment was broken by the head of costuming rushing over after the shock of Bakugo’s outburst being cut short wore off and everybody took a collective sigh of relief when the fiery blonde was ushered away to have his shirt changed out.

That had seemed to be the catalyst to your social isolation. Originally, a few staff members would try to approach you and start a conversation but Bakugo would come stomping up out of nowhere and demand your attention in some way, shape, or form. Sometimes, it felt like you would be really getting to know another person and they would suddenly become pale whenever they happened to glance behind your shoulder and run away. You would start to call out to them but Bakugo would appear out of nowhere and demand that you repair something or another. It didn’t even make sense how often he tore his clothes.

Now, Bakugo, despite his rather abrasive personality, became basically the only person you interacted with at the theater. He was the one that showed you how to properly stitch the clothing back together (although he did call you stupid for joining costuming without knowing anything). Sometimes, he would cook too much lunch and give you the extra and, honestly, his cooking has become something you look forward to. You got used to his jabs and grumbling and now you can say Bakugo was your friend. He even would take time out of his practice schedule to come see you. If anybody asked you, it was the least he could do seeing how he basically scared everybody else away though.

“There you go spacing out again,” Bakugo huffs from beside you and you have to shake your head to clear it.

“Sorry. Was thinking about how much of an ass you are.”

Bakugo lets out a bark of laughter and several heads turn towards you two to see what the commotion was.

“Oh, really? Then I guess you don’t need the lunch I brought for you today, huh. Such a shame. I would hate for me to have to waste it on one of these extras.” Bakugo does a lazy sweep of the room but his face pulls into one of disgust just looking at the other crew members.

“No, no! Please forgive me, Bakugo-sama! How would I ever live without your generosity! I am forever lost without your kindness!!” You lay it on real thick and you can tell that from the small quirk of Bakugo’s mouth and how he refuses to look at you, that he knows you are being sarcastic but he gives easily enough.

“As long as you know it,” he says before finally taking his foot off the gown and turning his head to look at you. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”

You pause for a brief second as you look at him. Bakugo looked back at you with such a contemplative expression. It was like he was looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty that would flash across your face from such a basic question. And, maybe he had the right to. It kind of sounded like he was asking you to meet up outside of the theater; something you have never done with each other before.

“Nothing,” you say, “why?”

“There is a food festival going on in the city tomorrow and you are coming with me” he says with a roll of his eyes. He acts like it was obvious you would join him.

“And if I had said I had plans?”

“Then you would cancel them. You can’t live without me, remember?” Bakugo says with his signature lazy smirk. Oh. For some reason, that smirk did a little something to your heart.

“I believe I said I can’t live without your generosity, not your presence.”

“Then I am being generous and gracing you with my presence! Do you want to come with me or not?!” Bakugo says with a bit more bite in his voice. His eyebrows are furrowed and he seems to be glaring at you but you can kind of tell he is more frustrated with how the conversation was going than with you not really wanting to go. Looking at Bakugo at that moment seems to have finally made everything click into place.

Ah. He was asking you on a date.

And you guess you should have seen that coming a mile away. How he acts like some overprotective guard dog whenever people try to approach you, him taking time to teach you to sew when he is notorious for his little patience, and him always bringing you lunch and spending every spare moment with you.

Bakugo’s eyes do not waiver from your face. His attention fully on you like it always seems to be nowadays. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Honestly, you’ve spoiled me a bit with your cooking at this point. I think a picnic in the park would be a lot better. Plus, there would be a lot less ‘extras’ for you to have to worry about, yeah?”

Bakugo seems to release a breath that even he didn’t appear to notice he was holding before his signature smirk came creeping back onto his face.

#gn!reader #reader insert #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugo x y/n #jealous bakugou #getting together #bakugo imagine #my hero acedamia #my hero acadamy #boku no hero academia #bakugou x you

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Text

Time & Place - Part II

AN | Yeah, so I wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to go but I know now. Enjoy 😌

Summary | Months have gone by since you’d met him and he’d become your savior. You’d almost (but not really) forgotten about him until you decided a move was in order. But when you move to a small new town, things take a surprising turn.

Pairing | Javier x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Main, Javier

Part I | Part III

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d expected some looks when you’d decided to up and move to a small town. But you hadn’t expected nearly everyone to openly stare without shame. All the stereotypes about small town nosey neighbors really did seem to hold true. It was no matter - you didn’t owe them any explanations and hadn’t done anything wrong. If someone was really that curious about your sudden appearance, they could have easily come up and spoken to you. And some did; a few people had introduced themselves and welcomed you into the small community, including your new neighbors.

The quiet and quaint cul-de-sac you’d moved into was a big change from your apartment in the heart of Austin. It was a welcome change that you’d liked more with each passing day. Everything would fall into place as it was meant to, you constantly remind yourself, but for now you’d get used to your new home.

It had taken a lot of courage and bravado before you finally convinced yourself that it was okay to step foot back into a bar. One bad experience shouldn’t ruin them all, right? You weren’t going to let that scumbag of a man ruin this for you; instead you’d gone downtown and picked out the bar that seemed the brightest and most lively. A few people you already started to recognize from around town even offered you a convivial hello.

You’d ordered a beer for yourself at the bar before grabbing your book and making your way to an empty booth. This time it wasn’t at the back of the bar but in the middle, with people all around you. The overall aura of the place was immensely better than any bar you’d ever been to. This would be okay, you promised yourself, this would all be okay.

You were about twenty-five pages into the new novel you were reading when a shadow loomed over you, blocking out some of the light. You startled lightly in your seat before turning to look up and find out who the sudden intruder was. Your jaw almost dropped at the sight in front of you.

There was no way. There was no way that he was here and now.

“Javier?” you asked, not quite willing to believe your eyes. It had been several months since that incident but you still remembered that face. Who could forget it? In a way you had the odd feeling like you’d know that face even before he’d become your savior. A curious look graced his features as he whispered your name back, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it either.

“What are you doing here?”

You both spoke at the same time before you laughed and motioned for him to sit on the other side of the table. He slid into the booth without hesitation, running a hand through his dark hair, mussing up the thick locks. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t hoped to see him again; you hadn’t held your breath but this was a most welcome surprise.

“Hi,” you don't know why but you suddenly felt shy under his intense gaze. He had nice eyes, you decided, there was a nice kindness within them that you found hard to come by in others. You closed your book and slid it to the side, “I just moved here actually, about two weeks ago.”

“You moved to Laredo?” he seemed surprised but you just nodded in response, “small world.”

“Oh?” you asked, setting your elbows on the table and leaning forward toward him, drawn in by…something. There was something about this man that gave you a sense of ease and comfort, “did you just happen to move to Laredo too?”

“I’m from here,” he admitted after a few beats of amused silence, “born and raised, left for a good while, and now I find myself back here again. I’m starting to think I was meant to be born and die in this town.”

“Oh,” Javier instantly decided that he liked your smile, along with the sound of your voice, your laugh. You gesticulated your hands nervously as you tried to even think of that to say to that, “and yet here we find ourselves meeting again, miles and miles away from where it all started. What are the odds of that?”

“I’m not even going to bet on that,” he laughed before running his hand over his mustache. He looked at your almost empty bottle before drumming his fingers along the tabletop, “are you expecting anyone?”

“Definitely not,” you admitted, worrying your lower lip, a small action that almost drove him crazy on the spot, “I don’t think I know enough people here in town yet anyway.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” if it had been any other man under any other circumstance you would have turned him down. But there was something you inherently trusted about him; besides that, he’d been your savior upon your initial meeting. You nodded as a smile grew on his face; when was the last time he had felt this smitten? Must have been years ago, “alright, well, I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sounds wonderful, Javi.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d found yourself at the bar late into the evening, chatting with Javi about anything and everything. He told you about his childhood, the ranch, his work with the DEA (which admittedly he had left more than vague on purpose), and his return to home. In turn you’d told him about the vagabond life you led during your youth before settling down in Texas for college and never finding a desire to leave, despite your work as a travel writer taking you to different places all over the world.

Talking with him was easy, almost too easy. There were no awkward moments, no things you regretted telling him, no tense pauses. In a way it was like you’d always known each other, like someone you were meant to drift back to each other. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to question it and decided to go with the flow.

“Did you get home okay…last time?” he asked softly once you’d downed the last bit of your drink. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up but he wanted - no needed - to know you’d been okay. You let out a small huff of air as you played with the soggy, peeling label of your beer bottle. Javi reached over and placed his fingers on top of yours, quietly stopping your silent worrying, “cariño.”

“I did,” you promised, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. You licked your lips, and paused before a moment before you allowed your gaze to drift back to his. The worry lines between his brows were present and a feeling that you wanted to reach over and gently touch away his worries welled up, “I did. Thanks to you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“I’m sure someone-”

“No,” you scoffed with a huff of bitter laughter, “they wouldn’t have. With things like that…a lot of the time it seems like ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ Like if people look away and pretend nothing bad is happening it’s fine. It’s…you’re not a woman, Javier. While I’m sure I’m not the first woman you’ve saved, you’ll never know what it’s like to be a woman. To be in that type of situation. I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to thank me at all,” he insisted softly, “I did what anyone should have done. But for what’s worth, and I’m not sure it’s worth anything, I am glad I got to meet you.”

“Yeah,” this time your light laugh was genuine and a sense of ease settled back in as he still kept your hand in his, neither of you in a hurry to move, “I’m glad I met you too.”

“It’s getting late,” he said quietly as he dared a quick glance at his watch. He was stunned to find that several hours had passed while managing to feel like no time at all. When was the last time he could say that about a date - or whatever this was. He couldn’t really call it a date since he had discovered you sitting in the hometown bar he had frequented since he was barely old enough to drink entirely by chance, “let me take you home.”

You knew exactly what he meant - he was just being kind - but you couldn’t help but playfully raise your eyebrows at him. A flush of dark pink crept up in his cheeks as he realized the connotation of what he said. Fuck. When was the last time someone had made him feel this way? How were you single-handedly making him feel like an inexperienced boy instead of a man? You patted his hand before pulling back, “I know what you mean, Javier. But you don’t have to - I can catch a cab.”

“I want to,” he insisted and you couldn’t refuse. Not when he was looking at you like that with those eyes, “what kind of man would I be if I just let you go?”

“An average one,” you laughed as he scowled with the knowledge that you’d been treated to anything else than what he was offering, “alright then, you can take me home.”

“Let’s go, my truck’s just out front,” he slid out of the booth and held his hand out to you, which you took with hesitation. You liked how your hand felt in this; small and safe - protected.

You gave him your address, a neighborhood he knew without even needing directions. The drive back was quiet, neither of you feeling like you needed to say anything; it was nice for a change not to feel obligated to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. The radio was on, softly playing some oldies you didn’t quite recognize. You noticed that he had the little habit of tapping his fingers along the steering wheel in time to the beat. It was such a simple thing but managed to put a smile on your face.

When you arrived at your house, he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Momentarily surprised, you wondered if he did actually think this meant you were going to…no. He definitely did not give you that impression at all. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything else, Javier got out of the truck and came around to the passenger side and opened the door for you, holding a hand out to help you. The small gesture made you smile; it was something so simple but you couldn’t ever recall anyone else ever doing that for you before.

He said nothing when you thanked him but made a small sound of acknowledgement as he walked to your door with you, trailing a few steps behind. It took everything in his power not to stare at your ass in those jeans but he remained firm that this was not going to turn into sexual - he did allow himself one little peek however, he was only human. When you reached the front door, you hesitated for a moment before turning back to him.

“Thank you, Javier,” you smiled softly at him and oh no. Your smile should not have made him that weak in the knees but here he was, feeling like he was turning into jello, “for making this a very pleasant evening and for getting me home safe - again.”

“Don’t mention it, cariño,” he offered a tentative, nervous little smile back at you, “welcome to Laredo. I’m sure I’ll see you around town.”

“I look forward to it,” you promised and before thinking too much about your actions, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. It wasn’t even much of a real kiss, more of a brush of your cheek against his, but it still managed to make him flush with warmth, “good night, Javier.”

“Good night,” he parroted as you turned around to unlock your door. He studied you for a moment, wondering how something so simple could be enticing as you opened the door and stepped inside. It was only when you offered him one last little wave goodbye that he noticed the scar running along the underside of your left forearm. It was memorable - a jagged line running down and spidering out into what looked like lightning. Curious.

He waited until you were inside and he heard the click of the lock before heading back to his truck. By the time he arrived back at the ranch, he wasn’t even aware of having made the drive. His mind had been mulling over you, your conversation at the bar, and the scar on your arm. Hopefully he hadn’t managed to run any red lights in his dazed state. It was only when he was ready to head inside the house that he noticed your book on the floor of the passenger seat; it must have fallen out of your purse at some point. Was it terrible to say that the idea that he had something of yours in his possession sent a small thrill through him? Now he would have a legitimate excuse to seek you again.

As he laid in bed that night, he thought of you, his body warming in a mixture of excitement and worry. He couldn’t have it this bad for you after only meeting twice, could he? Just when he was drifting off to sleep, revelation struck him just like lightning.

He knew exactly where he’d seen that scar before. Several years in the past in the middle of a gaudy, dirty bar in the downtown of Bogotá. Yes. He knew he could remember that scar anywhere - he remembered commenting about it the night you’d met, running his fingers along it while you laid next to him in his bed.

No way. No way was it possible that he’d just happened to be the one that had found you in that dirty, sleazy bar in Austin. No way was it possible that you just happened to turn up in Laredo.

He sat up, suddenly feeling wide awake as he tried to remember all the details of that night. He remembered that he’d gone out that hot, humid summer night in search of reprieve and to unwind with a drink. You’d been sitting at the bar, chatting with some girlfriends when he’d caught your eye. He knew he had seen your smile before - it had been just as breathtaking back then. One thing had led to another and soon the two of you were sharing a table and drinks and then you’d ended up going home with him.

While it had been his rule that women had to leave his bed as soon as the deed was done, you’d been different. He hadn’t wanted you to leave, instead he’d asked you to stay, falling asleep with you draped over him and fingers tracing that scar. How could he have forgotten? The overwhelming feeling that he knew your face, he’d seen you before hadn’t been wrong at all. He really had known you in another life.

“No way,” he laughed to himself, hanging his head in disbelief, “no fucking way.”

Javier knew he had to find you again. Before the revelation had hit him, he was practically buzzing with excitement at the prospect of seeing you again. Now he knew he had to. It all had to mean something, right? There was no way that this was all purely chance…no way. Javier had never held much belief or faith, having abandoned the concept of religion as a young man and the idea of fate and karma as a man running around in Colombia. No, Javier believed in tangible things, things that he could see and hold. But this had him rethinking everything.

He had to see you again.

There was no way he was ever going to be able to stay away from you.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x fem!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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fonulyn · 2 years

Note

Why do writers always bang on about getting comments on their fanfictions? I'm sorry but I really don't get it.

If you love writing and enjoy creating stories then why do you need comments? Is it just an ego thing?

this ask does not feel like it's been sent in good faith, tbh, it's phrased so provocatively it sounds more like an attempt to guilt-trip than a genuine question. but I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and answer it as if it was a genuine question anyway, because maybe the tone wasn't intentional.

have you ever in your life actually created something? imagine a scenario: drawing a picture or writing a story as a child and running to your parents with it, I bet you expected them to actually say something about it instead of just glancing at it and turning away. you liked making it so why should they react to it in any way then?

it's very human to want some acknowledgement to your hard work. and that's what writing (or drawing or any creating) is, even if it's enjoyable, it's also a lot of work. so why is it such a bad thing to want some engagement for it? why do you feel the need to shame writers for wanting something back for the hours of work they put into creating something?

or I've seen it phrased online like this: you love baking, you enjoy the whole process and it's one of your ways to decompress. but when you bake a cake for a party and no one takes a slice, no one enjoys what you created, it is going to feel like crap. as fun as the hobby is, sharing it with others is a whole different thing and you do expect something back when doing it. and comments are it for fanfic, because you can't be there to see the happy faces when people actually do eat your cake.

another way i've seen it said before: fanworks are gifts to fandom. in general, if you give a gift to someone, you are going to want to know if they liked the gift they got. granted, fics and other fanworks aren't often directed at only one person but at a collective bunch of people, but the expectation still remains. you'd still want to know whether people liked your gift or not.

besides, writing something and posting something are two very different things. I enjoy writing and I'm not going to stop doing that and creating stories. but if no one engages with my work online, why should I go through the tedious process of posting it online? sharing is done with the expectation of engaging in some sort of community, in whatever capacity, and if there is no sense of community there? it's wasted effort.

I don't know when writers wanting comments suddenly became a bad bad thing instead of a natural part of the entire process but it's really something that we should take a step back on and reassess. fandom, for me at least, is about connections and community and sharing things I love with other people who love those same things. but if it feels like I'm just sitting here screaming into the void and no one even tries to scream back, then why bother.

sure it's partly an ego thing too because it feels really damn good to know you were able to create something another person enjoyed. but that's not the main thing. and even if it was, I don't see what would be so bad about it tbh. again, writing is not only enjoyable it's also hard work, so if one goes through the trouble of putting those words from their head onto a word document, then why is it so bad to want something back from it?

so just… why is it so bad that writers "always bang on about getting comments"? how would it hurt you to spend fifteen seconds of your life leaving a nice comment on something you enjoyed reading and spent some time on? would it be so bad to make someone a little happier? someone literally took time out of their life to post it online in the hopes that it would make someone's day a little nicer, so why is it so bad to hope someone would repay the favor and make the author's day with two nice words?

I'm sorry but I really don't get why it's such a bad thing to want to feel a part of the fandom instead of a mindless and emotionless machine who's supposed to churn out content for others to read and wordlessly dismiss. because that's how your attitude translates. that wanting some kind of a human connection is something bad.

I'm tired and I should be sleeping and I'm sure this could've been phrased better but there.

besides, anon, if you're that annoyed about writers asking for engagement on their work, you can always unfollow and ignore them. problem solved.

#anonymous #ask and i shall answer

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