actually, i'm gonna say it;
i'll never forgive the TSP fandom for taking the valid critique of " hey isn't it just a little weird that this character without a form is most often depicted as a conventionally attractive skinny guy "
& turned it into " guys let's not police anybody's designs here that's not cool, everyone's design is valid "
nobody ( competent ) said you HAD to change your designs or that they were bad, they just asked you to consider a very glaringly obvious trope IN the pool of designs, but you had almost everyone bastardizing that message as " policing "
guys, all that was being pointed out was that " conventional attractiveness " seemed / seems to be the norm for a character that doesn't even have a physical description, much less anything that alludes TO him being attractive beyond personal tastes.
we were just asking you to think about that.
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Okay, see, I understand the reason why people believe "testosterone is so powerful and estrogen, by comparison, is useless and weak", but guys... please stop. It's not helpful, it's inaccurate, and frankly, it's just... transphobic (and misogynistic).
Yes, estrogen and testosterone (in different levels) are different, and do different things. But to say that one is useless - esteogen, more often than not - is so inaccurate. I've seen so many trans women on estrogen express just how much they have changed - some even remarked that their shoe size changed. Estrogen isn't inherently weak. Testosterone isn't inherently powerful. They do different things in different peoples' bodies, which is why transition timelines vary so much even if some of us take the same medications.
Additionally, please recognize how hurtful this can be to those either seeking transition, or not looking to medically transition in this way. How does it look when people are bombarded with the idea that their transition isn't going to be successful, and that there's no point? If I were told again and again that there isn't any point in something I need, I know I'd be miserable on top of the misery I'd feel for being unable to transition how I needed. It's unnecessarily cruel.
You can certainly speak on the affects of different hormones. That is completely okay! But to moralize or even scandalize hormones isn't the way to go, I think.
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(Sorry, I know I sent a lot of questions already so feel free to ignore this one akdks)
How do you feel about truth serum tropes? I think it has a lot of potential for angst scenarios - not sure which HH character would be the best "victim" though... It's a tie between Angel Dust and Alastor for me!
I spent WAY too long with Jin Guangyao and Mu Qing as my blorbos of choice in their respective fandoms to not have some strong feelings about truth serums as a concept, ehehehe. I actually fucking love truth serum tropes, but I am also phenomenally picky about them.
The key point for me is that I do not enjoy them as a comedic premise! I want truth serum to be tackled with as much seriousness as the character it's being inflicted upon would see it with. Being forced to reveal your secrets - the secrets you're keeping for your emotional well-being, for your safety, for your reputation - is deeply fucked up and traumatizing. It's an extremely vulnerable position to be in depending on the character it's done to!
Bonus points for trope subversion a la a character being dosed with truth serum and the people close to them understanding that this is deeply fucked, and promptly doing everything they can to ensure that it's not taken advantage of.
I don't know if there is any Hazbin Hotel character that would be as satisfying to truth serum as Jin Guangyao, but here are a couple of ideas:
Angel Dust gets popped with it and is pretty good at spinning his words into innocuous glib comments that he thinks are totally fine jokes to make about his situation, except he doesn't realize that everyone is just growing increasingly horrified as he goes on because his normal-meter is so broken
Lucifer gets dosed and it just kinda shoves all of his self-deprecating dark-as-fuck-but-as-a-humorous-cope thoughts from the inside to the outside sans filter and it's just a magnifying glass onto how not okay he is that whips away his thus far semi-successful attempts to keep it together
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Hi Pia! You said that you need another vacation after this vacation, so I am not sure, how puppy situation, even if it partual custudy, affecting you ( may be you in panic when he is there and then recovering when he is not, and then round and round? ), but really, If you need another vacation, I hope you know we will be here to support you for it!
It's been nearly 4 weeks now since we got Toby so I feel like I can talk about this with a bit of a clear head.
(Talk of like an actual PTSD meltdown beneath the read-more, including self-harm mention - nothing graphic. There's zero obligation for anyone to read this, especially for folks who don't think authors should ever be honest about being people with issues):
So, I've been kind of quiet about aspects of this, but I have like severe treatment-resistant PTSD and C-PTSD, and puppies specifically are one of my triggers (especially if I'm responsible for them). The reason for that is kind of awful, and I don't really want to talk about some of the things I've experienced/been through that led to that, so let's just move onto the next part. You're kind of right anon, there has been panic while he is here lol.
As a result, I had a severe meltdown the first time I tried to adopt a dog many years ago now. Could not last 24 hours, needed weeks/months to recover.
But I've always wanted to share my life with a dog and I've been in a somewhat better space over the past year or so, and I thought I could maybe handle it better. I told myself 'if I can just get through that 24 hours I'll realise it's okay and it will all work out.' Anon I cannot tell you where this thinking came from, but it was wrong. Idk why past me was kind of naive enough to think this way but here we are.
No, after that 24 hours, it got temporarily better, and then I slammed into consecutive meltdowns, each one worse than the next, until the people around me were afraid for my life. I am still recovering from some of the harm I inflicted on myself during the last three weeks and likely will be for some time to come. The combination of a really intense PTSD relapse, as well as not being able to handle (as an AuDHD person) intense changes to my schedule basically compounded and I broke.
I made the decision to rehome Toby, and first contacted the people around me. Glen's mum said she wanted a dog, and had been specifically looking into dogs like Toby anyway, and so we decided this would be best because then I could still be involved (I love Toby to pieces).
After getting some space, I finally started to adjust, and have gone back to having Toby about 4~ days a week, with a view to going to about 6 days, with one day spent with my mum, or Glen's mum.
Today is the first day I was able to handle having him on my own for around 9.5 hours. And I'm here and able to write about it, so that's progress. He'll be here all day Sunday, and then Tues-Weds-Thurs-Friday. And from there a decision will be made as to where I'm at with my mental health etc.
I'm a bit more hopeful now that I might be able to keep him, but my PTSD is still very very bad. I'm having some nights where I'm simply not sleeping until 7.30am (even if he's not here), and my hypervigilance is crazy. Like, I am having so many auditory flashbacks it's stupid. So this is why I've been saying this break hasn't been very restful or productive. Because my mental health tanked like I detonated a landmine inside myself.
I didn't actually plan the two week break for Toby! That was just a coincidence honestly.
Unfortunately I have a lot of health conditions that respond very poorly to stress, so I'm dealing with those now too. And then additionally, in all of this, I had a breast scan / mammogram / ultrasound that has confirmed a suspicious lump I found a couple of months ago (breast cancer runs in the family), and I suspect I'm going to need a biopsy. I'll find out on Monday if that's the case. That's been in the background and hasn't been helping.
There's some other stuff going on that's not really worth talking about because these are the main things, but that's a good picture I think. It turns out 'just getting through the first 24 hours' doesn't magically make a severe PTSD trigger go away. And that forced exposure is not 'exposure therapy' - that's just reinforcing a trigger.
Anyway! I feel like I'm through the worst of it, and I am seeing glimpses of how my life could be richer if I keep getting through this. But...that's why I think another break. *smiles tiredly.* I have to wait a bit now for the PTSD / C-PTSD symptoms to settle down, and I also need to see what's kind of worsened after this. Realistically, with a relapse to this degree, it could take between 3-6 months to really start recovering, or to at least get back to where I was before December.
I hope with all my heart I can get there with Toby by my side. I love him so much.
(I want to add that Toby has never ever been in a position of harm at any point, and in fact I probably put myself in harm's way for his sake, because I wanted to provide solid continuity of care - in case anyone was worried about that).
Er so yeah! But I've picked up my writing again this week and have been able to do some like...things I'd been neglecting, and I feel more human again, I just hope I get some sleep tonight
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By the way, about LCSyS, how are you dealing with the whole 'Es plurality' situation? Because it is a central part of their character that gets brought up on multiple voice dramas and seems really difficult to remove. Also, it is implied that some of our judgements may be our if character for Es because they seem pretty uncertain about it. For example, some people including myself suspect that if Es wasn't controlled by the audience they would have voted Mahiru innocent because they appear somewhat fond of her and would probably have not jumped to stalker based on no evidence (kinda bullshit people thought that anyway but whatever). This was asked by someone who is insane about Es and thinks about them constantly, BTW.
Ah, well I appreciate an Es expert (Espert?) weighing in on it!! :D
Because that element is very central to both them and the plot, even if it hasn’t been fully explored yet. Like you said, there are a lot of events that rely on these “other” voices, some actions and decisions that they themself seem unsure of! Not to mention their own dialogue using a plural first person pronoun! I’m already trying to distance the au from the audience interaction element, so I’ve definitely kept my eye on the plural Es theory >:3
Since we have little to work with, I’ve tried to keep them pretty vague in the fic so far. They don’t appear in a lot of it because of plot reasons (everything is the same as canon to them, most of the time). And even in their pov chapter I try to steer thoughts and emotions directly to the prison. I only mention their identity near the end to make everyone say “Hmmmm we don't know who you are and neither do you!” Now, I'm prepared for three main options for endings: 1. There is a non-system, in-universe explanation for the voices. 2. The voices are directly confirmed as the audience. 3. Yamanka states that he hates me, personally, and doesn’t explain anything about Es. If it’s the first one, I’ll see how well it works into my fic and go from there! (If it’s overly supernatural/involves Es disappearing/dying, I might make some tweaks lmao. I’m committed to accuracy but this is a fix-it, at the end of the day.) For the second two, I plan on leaning into plural Es, with research and input from others to make the writing accurate 👍I’m hoping to go back revise earlier sections to drop more hints and make things consistent. I also want to write an epilogue once we get more context on the ending as a whole! Though, I guess they've already confirmed some feeling of plurality... maybe I add some lines in that last chapter now...
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🦽 Too weak to walk, for Henry <333
(@whumpvp kiss kiss)
Content Warning | Post-op wooziness, Henry being pliant and helpless, Fluff
---
This was about as routine a heart surgery as they came. The battery in Henry's ICD had run low, and so for the sixth time in his life he'd gone under to have it replaced. Both of them were familiar with the process, and they'd had more than a month to prepare. But it didn't stop Wesley from nearly melting with relief when he first laid eyes on him again. Exhausted and pale and drugged, but still aware and still in one piece.
Wes filled out the paperwork. Collected the post-op meds, thanked the nurses one last time. Then he took the handles of Henry's wheelchair, and started them toward home.
Wes had seen him like this a few times before, but it was never going to stop making his heart ache. Henry's eyes were glassy and vacant, watching the floor tiles go by without seeming to follow them. He was still holding his hospital pillow close to his chest, looking every bit like he'd crumble apart without it.
Henry winced as they went over the threshold, knuckles going white on the pillow. Wes was even more careful about the next little bump, and then they were out to the lane where the valet was waiting with the Audi. The sound of traffic going by, the murmur of other waiting patients, the smell of heat and asphalt hit like a wave.
Henry seemed to stir a little, recognizing his car. And then he started looking around, brows furrowed until he found what he was looking for. Wesley.
"Hey," Wes said gently. He leaned down and locked the wheels on either side, making eye contact with one of the nurses and nodding for them to come over. He squatted down next to Henry, giving his arm a squeeze. "We're gonna help you into your seat. Then we're headed home to rest, okay?"
Henry's eyes were on him, blinking too slowly as he tried to focus. But eventually he inclined his head in what was probably a nod, and turned his eyes back to the car as if figuring out how to try to get in there.
Wes almost didn't catch it when Henry shifted his weight forward in an attempt to stand, only to nearly collapse into the car door. "Hey- hey—not yet." He caught him, and the other nurse jogged over to close the distance. They each took Henry under his arm, steadying him. "Let us do the work. Just put your foot here....and the other....there you go. Now on three. One, two..."
They hefted him the rest of the way out of the chair, and helped him transfer to the car. Wes caught his head just before it hit the roof, and let out a breath of relief as Henry sunk down into the seat. It took a few more moments of helping him adjust his legs and get buckled. Wes made sure he was able to keep the pillow between his seat belt and the incision site, and Henry went back to hugging it just as closely as before.
Wes thanked the nurse, then closed the passenger door. Once they were both in the silence and familiarity of the Audi, Henry's eyelids drooped. He looked exhausted, and his breathing was coming slow and a little labored. Wes buckled in, then reached over to give his leg a squeeze. He got a little sound of acknowledgement. He knew he was there.
The drive home was a quiet one. He took a longer route home, one that would avoid as many stops signs and potholes as possible to avoid jostling Henry any more than necessary. And when they finally pulled up to the steps of their rowhouse, Wes let the car idle for another minute as he coaxed Henry back to awareness.
"I'm gonna come around to get you. And we're going to take the steps really slow, alright? It doesn't matter how long it takes to get us there."
Henry made a mumble that sounded like an acknowledgement. They'd talked about this before his surgery, and somewhere in there he still knew the plan. Handrail on one side, Wes on the other. Slow and steady.
Wes gave a nod, and then came around to open his door. He helped him unbuckle, and murmured, "We're gonna leave the pillow here for now, but I promise I'll give it back when we're inside." He still saw Henry hold it even tighter for a moment, before that little bit of resistance caught up with common sense. He let Wes take it, fingers still clinging loosely as it was pulled away. The longing on Henry's face made his heart ache, but he knew it would be forgotten by the time he got it back.
Getting him to his feet was no small feat. Getting him to the base of the steps wasn't either. Henry wasn't exactly a light man, especially when he was swaying as they went. He kept tripping on his own shoes as though he couldn't remember quite how to place them. But with Wes' help they made it to the hand rail, and from there Henry finally seemed to remember his balance.
There were only ten steps up to the door, and every one of them was taken carefully and clumsily. Wes helped him lean up against the doorway as he got it unlocked, feeling Henry's whole frame trembling with exhaustion against his side.
And then they were home. He tossed the keys onto the counter, and helped Henry up the last step. Henry started hanging back just inside the doorway, looking down at his feet. It took Wes a moment to realize he was trying to toe off his shoes.
The sight tugged at him. Even drugged halfway to hell, routine was still such a powerful thing.
"It's alright, love. Let's get you sitting first. I'll help you out of them once we're in the bedroom."
"...mm?"
"Yeah. Promise it'll make it a lot easier."
He coaxed him along. They went past the couch and to the bedroom, where blankets and pillows and water were already set up and waiting. He eased Henry down onto the bed, and bent over to help him pull off his shoes.
He was gentle getting him undressed. Careful to make sure he didn't try to lift his arms, steadying him when he started to sway. He helped him settle back against the pillows. Henry's skin was clammy to the touch, but he still leaned into him when Wes pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm gonna be right back. I just need to go get the rest of our things."
Henry was almost asleep again by the time he returned. He roused him just enough to offer him his pillow. And when he saw it, the look of relief on his face said everything. He curled around it like a long lost friend, tucking his knees up and burying his cheek against it with a sigh. It didn't seem to matter that he was surrounded by other, arguably much better pillows. This was the only one he had eyes for.
Wes sat down beside him and combed fingers back through his hair. And with that, in moments, Henry was asleep.
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