#I BUD YOU

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_micromessaging_1113 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.

[hunny-k]

This is the funniest way you could've put it

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[pangur-and-grim]

the end of an era.

I did my best to give them all good lives.

[marzipanandminutiae]

I hate "it's not trying to be accurate!" arguments for historical fiction or historically-inspired fantasy clothing choices that just. don't make sense logistically

why is that girl in Br*dgerton tightlacing her stays? what is she reducing- her upper ribcage? not only can you not tightlace in those (hand-bound eyelets can't usually take that strain, in my experience), but there's no reason to because your waistline is under your boobs. and unlike most of the series, they actually commit to the empire waistline for the court presentation gowns. small waists don't matter when NOBODY IS SEEING YOUR WAIST

why no chemise, in so many productions? fantasy/lack of concern for accuracy can't make things not chafe. chafing is not a matter of accuracy; it's a physical reality. did a wizard give everybody in the kingdom Anti-Chafing Spells?

just because you don't WANT a linen underlayer beneath a medieval tunic doesn't mean sweat won't get to outer garments and damage them- or make them need laundering, which weakens the fibers -at a time when all clothing is handmade, custom-fitted, and created from hand-woven fabrics and thus a HUGE investment

you're not just throwing accuracy to the winds as a design choice; you're ignoring How Textiles And Bodies And the Realities of Your Technology Level's Fabric and Laundering Capabilities Work

[about92bleachedrainbows]

Shadow of the Erdtree oodlies

[baejax-the-great]

[badasserywomen]

I love the way Karlach just fans over Jaheira, we all just trying to get her approval and be called 'cub'

[xayspancakeee]

mhmm, a real danger to society.

(≖_≖ ) if dangerous, why so soft?

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

in the notes on my last lmk fanart some folks were like "this reminds me of this clip/vine/tiktok" and y'all were so right I had to learn storyboard pro about it *happy wiggling*

[shepscapades]

Xisuma, why in the world were trying to fix your helmet with TAPE?? I thought the superglue idea was unhinged but THIS IS A NEW LEVEL

(I know that it's probably not holding itself ONLY on tape, but the image in my head is too funny)

What's next? You tell me he attached Doc's new arm to his body with tape and glue too??

THIS RESPONSE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE COMICAL but I let it get away from me;;

[ghouljams]

(unreality tw)

the headlights in front of you wink out of existence. the streetlights overhead the only indication that you're moving through the fog. you yawn, unable to keep the sleepiness at bay as you journey home. cars parked along the street grow more and more sparse as you pass side street after side street, waiting for the light that signals your turn is coming up. the rowhouses of the city give way to short square buildings, and though your brain is sluggish it's not quite diminished enough to ignore that glaring disruption.

you stop at a red stop light.

the cross street is devoid of any other drivers.

your usual light is a T intersection.

you blink at the red glow of the light and the thick fog in front of you.

your car is silent.

a low static begins to fill the air and with a slow movement you lean to turn your radio off.

the light is red.

you drag your gaze over to the cross streets light.

red.

your arms begin to feel heavy as you watch the light on the crosswalk blink.

blink.

blink.

no count down to zero just the slow blink.

blink.

blink.

you pull your gaze back to the light.

yep, still red.

silent and-

someone knocks on your window.

you blink some of the exhaustion from your eyes, shake your head as you suck in a full breath and return to your senses. You look at the man who's bend down to smile into your window. His blue eyes are a welcome distraction from the red light.

his sclera are as white as his teeth, and there's a scar that cuts his hair line with a gnarled pink.

he taps again.

you roll down the window.

"Hullo!" he says.

"hello." you respond. "can I help you?"

"Aye," he nods, "Ahm afraid Ahm lost, dinnae ken mah way around town."

"oh." you frown. maybe he's a tourist.

"Dae ya ken where ya are?" he asks.

do you?

the light is red.

this is a cross street.

your light is a T street.

do you know where you are?

would you feel any more awake if you did?

"i think so." you tell him.

"Could ya take me to-" he rattles off an address that sounds like gibberish.

it hurts your head.

"i- maybe?" you wince.

you keep your foot on the brake as he walks around to the other side of the car and opens the door.

there's mud caking his boots, the bottom of his trousers.

fatigues, your fatigued brain supplies.

like the army.

or one of the other ones.

there's something red caked under his fingernails.

and holes in his shirt like it's been torn.

your skin prickles with chill.

you reach to turn the heat up.

he smiles and you turn back to the red light.

"Ah bet your legs have something between them." he says.

your muscles strain like they want to shake.

you don't move.

"what?"

"The nurses," he says, "they're like mannequins."

you turn your head to look at him.

the light that casts jagged shadows over his face it green.

there's something black dripping from his nose.

"Drive." he tells you.

you take your foot off the brake, and turn to watch the road as you press on the gas,

and something heavy smashes into the side of your car.

[katrafiy]

I'm sure it will come as no great surprise to anyone that about 15 minutes into this the host was talking about how trans women are being brainwashed by baeddels, and ended with a cishet woman brought on as a guest who said that baeddels call trans men incels but really they want to call trans men eunuchs, to which the host responded saying "I wouldn't call incel a slur, but it's definitely the politically correct version of calling them a slur.

I also really got a kick out of this part in the middle where another guest started talking about how the expectation that trans men should ever have to listen to trans women (or any other women) is misandry, though my favorite part had to be right near the very beginning where the host said, and this is a direct quote, "bell hooks, who is the person I believe that coined the term intersectionality".

Just a hilariously pathetic display from beginning to end.

[ugly-anarchist]

Me: I've been targeted by people for my perceived masculine traits. I've been told that my high T levels as an intersex person make me inherently more likely to be abusive, aggressive, or assault someone. I call this anti-masculinity because it feels like the most accurate term to describe my experiences and the way they align with what other queer people have also experienced.

Someone, for some reason:

[wdthl-shipart]

That one scene in opla got me thinkin ab them. You know the one.

[ryllen]

when u love being called 'love'