#I might be American now and maybe i don’t have much of a connection but I want to know!

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan elle september issue cover story Q&A

ELLE: During this rest period, do you think about things that happened on the set?

Xiao Zhan: Of course, I remember a few days after the filming was finished, I had a dream that we were still filming, and the director and I were still discussing how to say that word? How to handle that scene?

ELLE: Do you actually miss the atmosphere on the set?

Xiao Zhan: I like it very much, because I like the feeling of everyone creating together and working together to get something done.

ELLE: When you first entered the entertainment industry and your popularity grew rapidly, you said that it felt a bit unreal and magical, but now you seem to be quite relaxed. How did this change happen?

Xiao Zhan: Rather than saying it’s unreal or magical, after so many years I feel that I haven’t had time to adapt to the fast pace at that time, so when I wake up from sleep, where am I today? What am I doing? I think it’s a process, just like when you first enter the workplace, everyone is very excited, "I’m here to work, please take good care of me", "I’m here, everyone get out of the way", "I can do it, I can do it". (Laughs) But after experiencing a lot of things, I feel that everything needs to be planned for the long term.

ELLE: In several interviews you mentioned that you like to play roles that "can convey energy". Why do you have such a preference?

Xiao Zhan: Because I think it is the life of the character. The kind of energy I am talking about is not just a single positive energy in the general sense. I mean the nutrition that can be subtle and silent. I believe that every character has a complete story line in his heart. This is what I like very much. As long as you dig deep, you can move people. I don’t like to call the villain a "villain", as if it is defined as a bad character from the beginning, but it is not. He may have his own difficulties.

ELLE: It sounds like “transmitting energy” is just a general term. Is it actually about understanding different people through performance?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, if we break it down to each character, they all convey different things. But if we say they are “good guys” or “bad guys”, I think that’s meaningless.

ELLE: So do you think acting is a form of communication?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, you can say that. I think it’s great to say that (acting) is a bridge to communicate with the audience. Just like when a play is broadcast, I will read some of the audience’s comments and impressions, and feel that they have a rich feeling about the work. When I see some comments that are exactly the same as my thoughts when filming, I feel very magical, as if this bridge is really connected. We don’t know each other in life, and we haven’t communicated, but he suddenly got my thoughts at the time, and I felt that, oh, acting is a very beautiful and magical thing.

ELLE: Do you watch some science fiction movies, TV shows, and literary works?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, I used to like watching "The Three-Body Problem". I have watched some science fiction movies recently, the American TV series "The Stars", and recently I am watching "The Replica". They are all about infinite flow and parallel time and space. Because I think there may really be parallel time and space. Every choice you make will split into a different parallel time and space.

ELLE: Do you imagine Xiao Zhan in a parallel universe?

Xiao Zhan: I really wonder, for example, is he still an actor? Maybe, is he still filming now? Is he still singing now? Or is he still a designer? Is he working for others or is he his own boss? (Laughs) Really, I really wonder.

ELLE: What do you think the future will be like?

Xiao Zhan: Wow, I think the world might return to its original state at that time, and the world might become a better place, and people would return to the most basic communication with each other.

ELLE: This is very interesting. Why do you think so?

Xiao Zhan: Anyway, at least now I am a little disgusted with the ubiquitous Internet. When we were young, when there were no mobile phones, we would chat while eating, and we would call our friends downstairs to play hide-and-seek and various games. I think that time was very precious.

ELLE: Will the profession of actor still exist by then?

Xiao Zhan: I think there will be. I believe that as long as life goes on, drama will continue. Because everyone needs an output, needs emotional resonance and sustenance, whether it is images or sounds. So I think that even if the world is destroyed, as long as there are still people, drama will definitely exist.

-END.

source

[lethalchiralium]

No More | [2] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: WOW. i did not expect that to blow up as hard as it did. thank you so much!! [this seriously might become a series. we’ll see.] [also, that means you’re getting a backstory. a very… need for speed backstory ;)] i really do think this is shitty but that’s all part of the plan baby!

warnings: cussing, alcohol, simon drinks to forget but he always remembers, non-sexual nudity, mentions of genocide, mentions of trauma, mentions of past careers, mentions of planes, mentions of crashing, mentions of american citizenship (you don’t have to be from there if you don’t want to be! i live there and i don’t want to be here! it’s just important from a certain aspect of your previous career.) simon is also a lot more lovey when he’s drunk.

summary: He’s convinced he should leave. He’s convinced himself that you are better off without him, better alone than being hurt by a shell of a man like him. He barely got a foot out of the door before he changed his mind.

part one here! | SERIES MASTERLIST

He had more bourbon in the past two months than he’s ever had in his entire life. The sickly sweet pull and the burn down his throat was a comforting pain as agony ripped through his heart. He sat alone in your shared apartment, a dim lamp being the only light in the entire space. He hadn’t gotten sick of the bourbon like he usually does, he couldn’t move it from the coffee table - he had sat forwards, arms resting on his knees and hands dug into his hair.

He was bone tired. He hadn’t slept in two days; it was a normal occurrence now that you had gone on that mission. He had to take leave so he didn’t rip Price’s throat out for not letting him go with you. The ache in his head still hadn’t gone away with the aspirin he took a few hours ago and the full bottle of his best bourbon down the hatch. The night wasn’t flying by like it did last night, he could hear the clock on the wall tick as he wallowed in his own misery.

Sometimes it took him weeks to bring up the scalpel and separate Ghost and Simon, divide the halves into quarters and dissect what actions could have been better performed to produce a better outcome - essentially, what he did to fuck up the one good thing he had going for him, and how he could fix it. He took your words to heart, and he was taking a very long time to stew over everything he could have done that would’ve have made him look like he didn’t trust you. Simon trusted you with every fiber of his being, he loved you more than that. He knew you were an amazing fighter, your fire to help those in need could never be extinguished.

He realized later rather than sooner that Ghost was why you didn’t trust him - Ghost was protecting the person Simon loves the most. And maybe, that included when you were home too. Keeping Simon locked away so he didn’t get hurt, so Simon didn’t get hurt by you.

If he had half a bottle less, he would’ve gone up to bed - but the room felt suffocating without you. He couldn’t lay in a bed that smelled like you if it became one of the last things he had of you in case you were killed, so he had cat napped on the couch for the past nine weeks. If he had a bottle less, he wouldn’t have thought about how his absence wouldn’t hurt you as much as Ghost does - if he had the £348 he spent on alcohol back, he wouldn’t have thought how this place felt like your home. Never his, he also categorized it underneath Ghost’s half - keeping his love at arms length so his self-destruction doesn’t hurt you.

He was drunk. Piss drunk, since he had never gave himself time to sleep off the bourbon. Ghost was cracked in the middle, and Simon was punching out holes in Ghost’s façade. Ghost never allowed Simon to feel, never allowed him to connect with anyone - a self-defense mechanism. But now? Ghost was almost gone, and he felt like himself now. And God, did it hurt.

How could he have done this? How could have pushed you away so far that your rope was dwindling by a thread, how could he have hurt the one thing that made him begin to unlock the cage around his freezing cold heart? He felt it in his chest, the raw burn and tug of desperation - he knew that he had to cut the thread.

He didn’t want to, he would give anything to not let you go - but Simon couldn’t let you keep getting damaged by his defense measures.

If he had no alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t have gotten up like he did. He wouldn’t have waltzed to the guest room, messily packed his duffle and brought it to the living room. He wouldn’t have grabbed a pen and an old pad of paper. And he definitely wouldn’t have written the note he was writing now.

He folded the note, lifting up the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and setting it down on the table, putting the bottle on the corner to hold the note down. His hand grabbed his duffle and he stood and he made his way to the front door. He slipped on his boots, only caring enough to tuck the laces into his socks before Simon went to open the door. He took the time to turn around, gazing at the dim apartment that smelled like you, that held all of your important belongings. It was the place that cradled you when you were down, the place he kept falling for you, the place he would kneel to the kiss the ground you walked on.

This was the place he loved you.

Honestly, in the back of his mind, he knew his sober ass would walk home after a week.

Before he could open the door, the lock turned and the door burst open - he threw his duffle into the adjacent kitchen and was about to fight. That was before he saw you.

Dirt and blood caked on your face, your duffle hanging from your hand, your hoodie tattered and your neck bruised - and he watched as the tears raced down your face. He could barely even begin to speak when you flung your duffle inside and dove into his chest, arms wrapped around his chest so hard, he thought you would pop his lungs.

“Baby, baby, hey,” He cooed, his hand immediately held your head against his chest - he pulled you both out of the way so he could close the door and lock it, now he was immediately sobered up. Your sobs were loud now, your hands gripped onto the back of his shirt so hard he was convinced it would rip.

He tried to pull you away but you refused, begging, “Please, pl-please don’t let me go.”

“Where’s Cerby?” He spoke gently, keeping his hand on the back of your head, feeling dirt crusted into your scalp. You must have come straight here.

“With K-Keegs.” You mumbled, muffled by his thin t-shirt with a faded band logo on it. He sighed, sad that his dog wouldn’t be home for a few days but he let the feeling go. All he needed to focus on was you, and definitely not his foolish actions from literally three minutes prior.

He hummed then, his free hand moved to underneath your thigh - he pulled it up so you would get the hint, which you did. Your arms moved from around his chest to around his neck and you jumped into his arms, caging your legs around his large waist as best you could. Both of his hands held the back of your thighs, he glanced to the kitchen and made sure both of the duffles were there and unharmed. They were, so he turned around and walked down the hallway to the bedroom he hadn’t used in since the last time you were home. He pushed the door open, turning on the warm light before walking into the ensuite bathroom.

He flicked on the light before moving to sit on the side of the bathtub, it creaked under your combined weight - you were sat firmly on his lap and his hands went to your back and head, cradling you.

“I’m gonna start a bath for you, love.” He spoke, his voice wavering with uncertainty as your arms wrapped tighter around his masked neck.

“No, no, please, don’t let go.” The tumble of words from your mouth made his grip on you tighter. He couldn’t imagine what happened, he didn’t want to - he thanked God that he decided to drink that entire bottle of bourbon a couple of hours ago. His mind was muddled, he could barely get any thought out of what could’ve happened. All he wanted to do now was help you.

He kissed the top of your head through his mask, dismissing the feeling of cloth against his lips and he gently pulled your head back, he gazed into your red-rimmed eyes. He whispered your name like a prayer, as if you were an angel - which you were to him. Even covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and grime, he would still be able to see your halo through any darkness. “Let me help, love. Let me help you feel better, then I won’t let you go for as long as you want.”

“I can’t.” The voice he heard was almost unrecognizable, he had never heard you sound so small. “I can’t, I can’t.”

He sighed, moving forwards to press the skull to your forehead - something he did when he knew you needed it. You physically relaxed when he did it, your back bent into his hand as you pushed every single ounce of weight onto him. His fingertips pressed into your spine, dragging up and down it from above your shitty old hoodie. He stayed like that for a few minutes, letting you cry against his mask. He gave you a bit of time before he pulled up your hoodie, you obliged and let him pull it over your head. You were just in your dirty black sports bra, and now he got a good look at you.

He felt bile rise in his throat. Your entire chest was spray painted in black bruises, he got a good look at the dark purplish handprint on your neck. He looked back up at you, your head faced to the side as you cried, ashamed.

“Oh, my love,” His hand returned to the back of your head, cradling it as he gazed at you. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You quickly shook your head, tears removing most of the grime on your cheeks. Your arms were now at your side, fiddling with the hem of his athletic shorts while you let out a broken sigh. His hands moved to lift you off of his lap, one hand didn’t stop touching you while he pulled off your boots, tossing them to the side before tugging off your holed socks. He made a mental reminder to buy you new socks at the base shop while he placed a hand on your back, guiding you with him as he moved to turn the faucet on. He turned it all the way up then back a little, the temperature you liked. He plugged the drain and put his hand underneath the flow of water, waiting for it to turn almost hot - normally, he would’ve made it extremely hot, you had always said you thought it was like being boiled like a lobster. But, he didn’t want to agitate your injuries. His hand moved from your back and didn’t break skin contact when he took your hand, still looking away from you but he still held your hand gently.

“You’re warm.” You mumbled, moving his hand up to settle on your cheek.

“I know, love.” He answered, turning back to you. His hand slipped from your face and down your side to your belt loops, undoing the buttons and zipper then pulling down your pants. He took your hands as you stepped out of your pants, watched as you kicked them behind you and he observed new pink scars, healed but still fresh. Surrounding them were black bruises, identical to the ones on your chest. He heard your whimpers of pain when you stood back up, his hand ghosted your side as he gazed at it, seeing identical black bruises again. Even if he felt sober, he knew that the adrenaline from you showing up injured would wear off and he would become sloppy. He didn’t hurry, he took his time as he pulled down the boxers you stole from him and toss them away. His hands found the bottom of your sports bra, your wince made him pause and look at your face again.

Fat tears still rolled down your cheeks, silent sobs left you as you kept your eyes closed. Your hands stayed at your side until he murmured, “Raise your arms please.” You did as you were told, he tugged it off quickly but not as painlessly as he wanted. You let out a loud wheeze that echoed throughout the bathroom, he placed his hand on your side again, his presence close to you as he leaned down and shut off the water. “‘m gonna pick you up, love.”

“Okay.”

He did as he had said, gently swooping you into his arms and placing you in the warm water that reached up to your collarbone. Your eyes opened again when he retreated from the tub, your gaze watched as he pulled out a towel from the closet and began to rummage through it.

“I almost died.”

Simon visibly froze as you turned back, your gaze now staring at the light above the tub. He peered around the door, hand clutching a washcloth with a pain he couldn’t soberly place. “Do…Do you want to tell me?”

You didn’t respond. He brought all of the materials to the side of the tub, he gently pet your head.

Simon, drunk as hell, bathed you with care. He didn’t speak a word and neither did you, you stared at the wall the whole time except when he tried to wash your hair. You let him move you under the faucet, rinse your hair for five minutes because he couldn’t tell if the soap was gone yet, let him dry you with a towel and dress you in new clothes.

You could barely keep your eyes open when he carried you to bed, tucking you in before he did himself. He watched as you curled into a ball, facing him and keeping your eyes on the sheets, your hand drew circles beside your face. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand, drowning the room in darkness and settled back onto the bed, watching you with bated breath.

“Got trapped in a burning truck.” Your voice almost spooked him, his eyebrows furrowed. You just stared at the gray sheets. “RPG’d the ground in front of us and flipped it. Knocked Logan and Keegs out. Hesh got launched from the driver’s windshield. Had to drag them out and triage them in an abandoned warehouse while trying to fight off the enemy. Got captured for a week. Keegs saved me.” You sniffled a little, your hand reached for his - he instantly took it. He squeezed your hand. “Had bad flashbacks. It had been a while since I’ve got stuck under burning metal and tortured. S’why I was crying.”

“How’re the boys?”

“Watchin’ Cerby and all as stubborn as always. All fine.” You mumbled, pressing his rough skin to your chapped lips.

A deafening silence settled then, your thumb threaded over the back of his hand while he felt your breath graze it. He began to feel drowsy, the slow turn-table of dizziness was coming back from earlier and all he wanted to do was place his head in your neck and just breathe. He needed you like he needed oxygen, you touch him and he felt like it was the first breath he’s ever taken.

“Sleep, baby.” He murmured, sliding down from his sitting position, underneath the soft duvet. He moved closer to you, settling his head so that he laid face to face with you. He could barely make out your nose and cheeks in the dim moonlight, but he could see the glisten of your eyes as they gazed at his.

“I haven’t had a PTSD episode since I left the US Naval Aviation division.” The voice he heard sounded nothing like what you normally do - it was small. Broken. Damaged. An echo of you.

He furrowed his brows, he thought he knew everything about you. Both your dad and childhood best friend were pilots, but you never specified what kind - and apparently neglected to tell him that you were one too. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a pilot?”

You sniffled, squeezing his hand and ignored his question. “Got shot down over enemy territory. Crash landed and had to pry my legs from my jet as the fire burned.” The sensation of his hand being squeezed tighter made his dizzy mind think that you were angry - but in reality, the memory of burning metal against your hands made you feel scared. You wanted to pull him closer, to have him shield you from your memories. Yet you kept talking, even if you recognized the hurt twang in his voice. “Had to fend for myself in an abandoned city just over the border in Ukraine. Stayed in that town for three weeks ‘til Special Forces came and found me.” You pulled his arm to your chest, pressing his hand into your cheek. “S’where I met Price. Almost shot him too, thought he was an enemy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the flashbacks?” His voice was softer then, he pressed his warm palm down to your jaw. “I could’ve helped you, my love.”

“‘Cause it’s not important now.” You murmured, both of your hands cradled his. “Wasn’t even s’posed to stay with 141, meant to go back to Miramar. Meant to get back in the air.” You took a quiet breath. “I fell for you and everything I knew went up in smoke.”

His heart dropped to the floor. It thumped against it, still pumping blood but it hurt in his chest.

“If I hadn’t given it up, I wouldn’t have you.”

“I would give up anything for you.” He whispered. “Don’t give up anything for me, darling. You deserve everything you have.”

“That means I deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me.” He immediately answered, his other hand went to settle on the duvet, tugging it up more. “You don’t deserve my problems, how fucked up I am.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.” He settled his hand on your side, feeling you breathe underneath his fingertips. “I’ve hurt you, not on purpose but I still did it.” His thumb circled on the duvet, you barely felt it as his voice became quieter. “You really hurt me when you walked away.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered, he couldn’t bear to hear you start to cry again. He paused, hand coming from your hip to completely take off his mask - something he had never done in your presence before. He tossed the mask away onto the floor as he moved forwards, placing his lips against your moonlight dusted cheek.

“I deserved it.” He answered, settling back and pulling your hands into his chest. “Made me think for a while.”

“You’re drunk.” A statement he didn’t deny, he pulled your hands upwards to his collarbone.

“I am.”

“Because of me?”

“Because I hurt you.” He answered, now pulling your hands to settle on his cheeks. “I want you to feel that I trust you, because I do.” He began to move your hands upwards, his eyes fluttered closed as your fingertips traced his warm face, tracing his eyebrows and dancing over his eyelids.

“Simon, you don’t have to let me do this.” Your hands paused, his own grip settled on your wrists. “I want you to be sober, you’ll be mad at me tomorrow.”

He scoffed, moving his head to kiss one of your palms, keeping his eyes closed as he whispered, “I could never be mad at you. Frustrated or upset? Yes, but angry? No.” He gently rubbed your arms, hands moving to settle on your own cheeks. “I’ve decided that you need to really know how much I trust you. How much faith I have in you. How proud I am of you.”

“You hurt me for so long.” Your voice cracked so heavily, fingertips grazing his forehead and memorizing his nose, coming down to trace his lips you knew well.

“I want to fix it.” His lips kissed your palm again, eyes opening to gaze at your dimly lit face. “Give me a chance.”

“I think this is most comfortable you’ve ever been to talk about things like this.” You remarked, hands stopping on his jaw, cradling it. “I want you to show me how much you trust me, but when you’re sober.”

He nodded in return, moving forwards to place a slow kiss on your lips. His hands moved to settle on the side of your head, pulling you forward just a little. When he broke the kiss, he placed another on the tip of your nose. “You’ll know how much I treasure you until the end of time.”

“Okay.”

“Just don’t leave me like that ever again.” His voice was low, one hand going to trace down your body. “Ever.”

You nodded as you moved closer to him, chest to chest. He removed his other hand from your cheek and slid his arm under his pillow.

“Sleep, love. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

_______________

comment for part 3! (part three here!!)

—————————

tag list:

(i was not able to tag some - i apologize!)

@luhvbot @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @ladystarfishnut @chris3tom2pau1rdj @kat-nee @efsa-lks @angelsquid @marytvirgin @medivalpersephone @ramadiiiisme @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @abbiesxox @lockleywife @nicomactavish @nose235678 @lumpypoll @multi-fandomlovers-world @holyfeck @thriving-n-jiving @kgive @simonsdoll @crazyfandomist @ryunniez

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[its-time-to-write]

this is 100% self indulgent. no one asked for this except me and I have zero excuse for how it turned out. i have no defense, no witty rebuttal, no nothing. i wrote this because i wanted to, and at the very least i hope this inspires someone to write their borderline-self-insert fic and post it publicly.

this fic is set after season 3. enjoy😂

(oh now might also be a good time to mention how much I love Man City. bc it’s a lot.)

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

Calling Lake Como beautiful is like saying space is big. It’s true for sure, but it feels like an understatement. It’s June and the weather is absolutely gorgeous, perfect for the wedding you’re attending. It’s for two good friends of yours, and it’s going to be a party full of football royalty. You’re mostly excited to see friends who are WAGs from other teams who you’ve connected with over the past year and a half.

Oh, and you suppose it will be a nice vacation with Jamie, too.

You’re staying at a beautiful hotel that’s been open since 1910, and you swear you’ll never stay somewhere as beautiful again.

“Getting ideas for the house?” Jamie teases, and it sends a thrill down your spine with the way he refers to his house as your collective home. 

You grin as he spins you around the Suite Greta. Everything is golden, from the drapes to the pillows to the sun catching on his face.

“No,” you reply, “but maybe for a vacation home?”

Jamie laughs as he catches you up in his arms. “I could see us here in the next off-season. Not sure we’d get out much,” he muses and you wrap your arms around him as tight as they can go.

You’re here for a full week but Isaac’s wedding is only one day. You and Jamie have plans to see everyone who’s in town, as well as have some time to yourself.

“Sasha wants to go out for dinner tonight,” you tell Jamie as he unpacks his suitcase.

“Girls only, or will Jack be there?”

“Let’s see,” you hum as you scan the group chat. “Isabel said she and Erling will be there, so looks like it’s a couple’s thing. That’ll be fun, right?” you ask with just a hint of anxiety. Jamie and Jack are friends, they’ve run in the same circles for years, but you’re not sure how he’s going to feel about being outnumbered two to one, City to Richmond, at dinner.

“As long as Rodri ain’t there, I’m fucking chuffed,” he says as he lays out his suit on the bed.

“Chuffed? Is that a thing you say now?” you ask, flat on your back on the bed.

“Yep,” he replies. “I’m posh now, babe. Sorry you Americans can’t do it as well as we Brits.”

“I have it on good authority that we do it very well,” you smirk. “But I don’t think that’s something you’ll get to experience tonight. I haven’t seen Sash or Isa in ages, so we’ll probably talk for a long time and then I’ll be tired when we get back to the room.”

Jamie groans. “You’re sadistic, woman. The shit you put me through.”

You smile and remind him, “You’re the one who picked me, remember?”

—

Jamie is technically the one who picked you. You had just moved from America to London, got a temp job at a Richmond FC, and the rest is history. You don’t work at Richmond anymore, haven’t for a while, as you’ve been able to start your own thing in between attending matches and events and whatever else Jamie’s invited to. Being Jamie’s girlfriend is a full-time job on its own, and he definitely spoils you beyond what you’re used to. He’s the one who bought your dress for the wedding and it freaked you out just a little bit until you called Sasha (an angel, by the way) who laughed and talked you off the ledge. 

“Comes with the territory, babe. They’re just boys with more money than they know what to do with. Jack’d buy me the moon if he could figure out how. Enjoy it. It’s been a while since anyone’s seen Tartt this happy.”

So you do. You had been living together for almost a year now so you’d think that a dress wouldn’t push you over the edge, but there you go. You’re trying to be calmer about it. It’s better ever since you met Sasha and Isabel. 

You had been stuck in a room while Jamie talked to his old manager, and they had noticed your deer-in-the-headlights expression. You’re right in the middle of the two, age-wise, and from similar enough backgrounds.

“Here’s my number. Come over to my flat tomorrow for brunch. We’ll get you settled, babes,” Sasha had said. You went and it had been amazing to finally make real friends, even if they were technically on the opposing team. 

You’re excited to see them, excited for Isaac to finally get married, and excited to spend a full seven days with Jamie by your side. It’s going to be the best.

—

You enter the venue arm-in-arm with Jamie, practically dancing across the grass. The sun’s shining and there are all sorts of people you know and love. It feels a little surreal to be here. 

Earlier, back in the room, you had slipped into your dress carefully to avoid getting makeup stains on the front. The skirt fell just at your knees and puffed out ever so slightly, with thick straps instead of regular sleeves so you could fully enjoy the warm weather. 

“Do a spin,” he had said, voice full of glee. You’d acquiesced, twirling around to let the blue tile print billow out before he caught you, kissing your shoulder so as not to ruin your makeup. 

Now, you’re holding onto him and trying not to wrinkle his linen suit when you hear someone shout your name. 

“Sasha!” you screech, running toward her as best you can with your shoes on the grass. You squeeze each other into a tight hug, uncaring about about the state of her hot pink dress. 

“Hey man,” Jack says to Jamie, who grins and shakes his hand. “You’d think they haven’t seen each other in fucking ages.”

“It’s been twelve hours,” you say. “And before that it’s been like two months. Anyway, don’t you two have some football to discuss or something? Or headbands? Or-”

“Really short socks,” Sasha helpfully supplies. 

Jamie shakes his head. “Fuck off, Attwood.”

“Fuck you, Tartt,” she replies. 

“Oi, you two wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for me. You could be a little nicer,” Jamie says. 

“Oh is that Hughes?” Jack asks before either Sasha or Jamie can escalate. Their entire friendship is based off sniping one another and neither you nor Jack are particularly in the mood for it today. 

Jamie turns to look. “Oh mint, looks like things are starting. You saved us seats?”

“Yeah, with Haaland and Isabel,” Sasha returns, linking her arm through yours. “C’mon, did you get yourself a parasol?”

—

It’s the most beautiful wedding you’ve ever been to. Stella looks stunning in her gown, Isaac stoically sobs his eyes out while Colin surreptitiously hands him a tissue. Even Roy seems to be having a good time, but then again Keeley once told you that he “really fucking loves weddings.” You hadn’t believed her, but his lips are in a straight line instead of a frown so maybe she was right. 

There’s a group of City and Richmond players together, and it’s a little strange to see how friendly they are off the pitch. Dani is explaining something with lots of hand gestures to Phil while the rest of the group jokes around. 

Sasha sneaked you and Isabel away to get drinks for yourselves and you were about to get away unnoticed when Erling caught Isabel’s arm and asked for a drink too, so now you’re ordering for your boyfriends as well as yourselves. 

You don’t really care, there’s a part of you that’s reveling in the sheer joy of being young and hot. Sue you. 

“Cosmo, please,” you say while the girls order drinks of their own. Sasha raises an eyebrow so you shrug and say, “Jamie likes what he likes.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs “Tartt,” but it’s with the affection of an older sister so you elbow her and ask, “What did Jack want?”

She makes a face. “Heineken. He also likes what he fuckin’ likes.” 

You wheeze out a laugh as Isabel comes to join you. She smiles as she sips from something lavender colored in a martini glass. She cuts an elegant figure in her yellow, billowy dress. You smooth your dress and open your mouth to say something when a voice calls your name. You look to see your ex walking up, hand-in-hand with his wife. You know, the one he left you for. 

“Jake,” you say in surprise. God, you need your brain to form coherent thoughts right now. “What are you doing here?”

He grins, far too wide and goofy to be real. Not like Jamie, you think. 

“Oh, you know, Emma’s loosely related to the bride on her dad’s side. She asked for an invite, so here we are. Who are you here for? Bride or groom?”

“Both, actually,” you reply automatically. Jake’s words are grating, not so much in content as they are in tone. He always had a way of saying things condescendingly, like everyone else was a stupid little kid. 

“Oh,” he says in what you think is supposed to be surprise, “that’s funny. I didn’t know you knew anyone out here. You’ve been living in England all alone, right?”

Emma just hovers by Jake’s shoulder. She’s not contributing anything to this conversation except a snooty little smirk. 

“No,” you say. “I’m not alone. This is Isabel, by the way.” You look around for Sasha, but she’s disappeared. Smart girl. 

Isa doesn’t extend her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she says and Jake takes her at her word. He puffs up his chest a little bit as he asks, “Where are you from? You don’t sound British.”

“We’re from Norway,” a voice behind her says. “I’m Erling.”

Sasha has reappeared with Jack, Erling, and Jamie in tow. You mentally congratulate her with a well done, Sash as you feel Jamie’s arm loop around your waist. 

He feels like a solid wall against your back, a glimmer in an otherwise garbage moment. 

Jake takes stock of the three men who are looking at him with less-than friendly stares. You’re not sure what Sasha told them, but you’re absolutely positive Jamie recognizes Jake. You can practically feel the hairs on his arm bristling. 

Jake finishes his assessment and deems it appropriate to talk. “So, how do you all know each other?”

Jamie scoffs and looks away, while Jack stares at Jake like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

You wonder what it is with your affinity for J-names. 

“We’re footballers,” Erling says before anyone can take more offense. 

“Premier League footballers,” Jamie adds, as if it means anything to Jake. 

Jake’s American, like you, and he’s never been much for sports anyway. He wouldn’t even recognize David Beckham if the man were standing under a poster of himself. 

Jake says, “Right. Hey, weren’t you on one of those trashy dating shows?” and Jamie stiffens. 

Sasha mutters, “Fuck’s sake,” under her breath as Erling and Isabel take pointed interest in something in the distance.  

“No,” Jamie replies shortly. “The fuck were you talking to my girl?”

Jake looks to you in surprise. “Oh! You two are together? That’s… well, that’s… I guess I just didn’t expect her to be whoring around like that. But hey, move to another country and all morals go out the window, right?”

That’s the thing about Jake. He never speaks as if he’s actually trying to be offensive. He just says what’s on his mind. And you’re a little concerned that what’s on his mind is going to land Jamie (and quite possible Jack) in jail. Neither of them are especially known for backing down from a squabble. “Cut from the same cloth,” Pep was rumored to say. 

“Fuck off, mate,” Jack interjects. “Just fuck off. Everyone here loves her, and you can’t talk about her like that.”

Your ex reevaluates the situation at hand and decides the best thing to do would be to take Emma’s hand and walk away. 

“Strange that his wife does not speak,” Erling remarks. 

You grimace. “You could’ve stopped at ‘strange.’ No idea what I ever saw in him.”

Jamie has a crushing grip on your waist so you wiggle a bit to get him to loosen up. 

“Prick,” he mutters. “How the fuck did he even get here, anyway? He’s in fucking America.”

“His wife’s loosely related to Stella. They asked for an invite,” Isabel volunteers. 

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Oi, if he tries to talk to you again, I’ll grab Roy and we’ll fucking kill him.”

“Yeah, ‘cause McAdoo’s never been above a little violence at a party,” Jack grins. 

You return his smile and say, “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure his mother-in-law would kill you.”

Erling huffs out a laugh. “Never a dull moment in the Premier League, is there?”

Isabel grins and loops her arm through his. “I’m tired of all this,” she says.  “Let’s go dancing. There’s a band and we don’t have to think about anything other than celebrating, yes?”

“God yes,” says Sasha.

Jamie still looks murderous, but you squeeze his hand once and whisper, “I’m fine, babe. It’s fine.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he lets you pull him along to the dance floor with the group.

— 

There are so many people that you don’t even catch a glimpse of Jake and Emma. You’re not sure what they’re up to, and fairly certain they don’t know anyone else here. You on the other hand, are living your best life as Jamie sings along to “Ain’t No Mountain.” He’s swinging your arms around as he sways in time to the music. You just let him lead you however he wants. The song ends and he presses his lips to your ear so you can hear him over the sheer volume of everyone talking. “D’you want a drink? I can go get you something.”

You nod and mouth my usual, please, so he salutes and begins weaving his way through the crowd. You watch him as long as you can before spinning back around with a smile.

A smile that quickly fades when you realize Emma is right in front of you.

She says, “Cute dress,” and for a moment, you believe she’s being sincere but then she follows it up with, “Did you borrow it from your grandma’s closet? I’ve seen people do that.” 

Right, because grandmas are known for wearing dresses like this. 

“What? No, Jamie got it for me,” you say. 

“Oh cute, is it from Walmart? I think I saw something like it there last week.”

Emma is trying to draw blood. You suppose she’s taking her shot now as opposed to back then because she thinks there’s no one around to call her out. No one who knows her. 

You say, “They don’t have Walmart here,” instead of “It’s Dolce & Gabbana,” because the second phrase would make you sound like a prick. There’s a part of you that wants to be a prick, though, wants to channel that part of Jamie that’s ruthless, vicious and cruel, messing with the opposition before he cuts them down. 

The first time you saw it, it was hard to believe the Jamie on the pitch was the same Jamie who played with your hair while you cooked, or put a sticky note on his fridge titled “Babe,” detailing everything you’d ever said you liked. 

Emma sees she’s not getting to you, so she changes tactics. “Must be hard being here without any friends,” she remarks. “All alone. And you’ve never been especially extraverted. Are those people the only ones here you know?”

God, Jamie, where are you?

You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by someone with a distinctly midwestern twang say, “I heard one of my favorite countrywomen was here.”

You turn to see Ted Lasso grinning at you in a black suit. It’s the same smile you remember, albeit his eyes are a little sharp. You’d bet anything he knows exactly what’s going on between you and Emma. 

“Ted!” you smile as a rush of relief floods your system. You step into his arms for a hug as he says, “Hey, sweetheart. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” you say. “Kind of great, actually. I wondered if you were going to be here! Have you seen Jamie yet?”

Ted shakes his head. “Y’know, I haven’t. Why don’t we find him together?” He offers you an arm and you take it gratefully, choosing not to spare Emma a glance.

“She seems like a real bucket of laughs,” Ted remarks.

“You have no idea. That’s my ex’s wife.”

Whatever Ted thought you were going to say, he certainly wasn’t prepared for that. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on a short, “Well I’ll be danged.”

You laugh and stand on tiptoes to try to see Jamie. You don’t see him, but you catch a glimpse of an especially tall, blond head.

“This way,” you tell Ted. You brush past Phil who smiles at you, past Colin and Michael, and past someone you’re pretty sure is a Beckham.

You make your way to Erling and Isabel as they dance to the music in their own corner.

You frown. “Have you seen Jamie?” you shout. 

Isabel shakes her head. “He was looking for you,” she calls back.

“Oh,” you say, “Ted, this is Isabel and-”

“Erling Haaland,” Ted says, hand outstretched. “Pleasure to meet you, son. Big fan of the way you play the game.”

You miss Erling’s response, startled by a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Sam standing behind you.

“Sam!” you exclaim with a grin, “You look so handsome!”

Sam returns your grin and strikes a pose. “I’ve been sent on a very important mission. I am to retrieve you and bring you to Jamie and I am under no circumstances allowed to let a small rat man named Jake speak to you.”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Jamie’s words, not mine,” Sam clarifies. “Although I must admit, I have seen this rat man. I do not like him very much.”

“You and me both,” you agree. You wave to Isabel and pat Ted on the arm before following Sam.

He leads you away from the crowd of people to a stone path illuminated by small lights. This can’t be right, you think but Sam points down the path and says, “This is where I leave you.”

He turns to leave then changes his mind and spins back around. “It was lovely seeing you today, albeit for a short amount of time. I hope I will be seeing more of you while we are here. It is not often I meet someone who makes Jamie more tolerable.”

He speaks with a touch of humor and it’s just enough to dispel any apprehensions about what’s waiting for you in the dark. 

You say, “Thanks Sam. Love ya,” which he returns before he disappears back to the main party.

You take a breath and head down the steps.

It’s dark, the light barely shining enough for each step, but as you get farther you see a shadowy figure sitting on a bench under a tree. You smile. You can tell exactly who it is by his silhouette.

Jamie stands as you get closer and pulls you into his arms.

“Thought we’d sneak away to make out a bit,” he says. “And maybe to you wouldn’t yell at me in front of all our friends.”

You groan. “What did you do? Please tell me it has nothing to do with Roy. Or Jack. Oh my god, did you two start convincing people you were separated at birth again? Because it’s really only funny one time.”

“Well…” Jamie hedges.

You pinch his back. It’s the only part of him you can reach at the moment. “Jamie Tartt, you’d better tell me what you did right now or so help me you are going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of our lives.”

“Oi, don’t fucking do that!”

He reaches back to grab your hands and holds them flat on his chest. “We- Roy, Grealish, and me, might have gotten your prick ex kicked out.”

“You what?” you gasp.

Jamie starts speaking in a rush before you can say anything else. “Look, y’know how protective Grealish gets, especially because Sasha fucking loves you, and then Roy heard that your prick ex was here (not the twat ex) and he said it’s easier for him to get in and out of fights on account of him being a fucking manager but then Grealish said that it’s pretty much expected that fights happen so might as well and anyway, no one’s gonna fuckin’ snitch on any of us because (hate to break it to you babe), but you’re, like, everyone’s kid sister. They’d fucking kill for you so it’s possible that we channeled that into threatening to break all of his bones if he ever ended up in the same country as you again.”

You’re processing all of the things Jamie said plus the incredible speed at which he said them, so all you can manage is a single “Okay,” before he’s talking again.

“Ehm, it’s also slightly-fucking-possible that someone did break his foot.”

“What?” you all but shout.

“Coordinated effort between Isa and Haaland,” Jamie says. “Lad’s a fucking wall, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“Jesus, Jamie,” you groan. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or pinch you again.”

“You can do both,” he suggests.

You sigh. “I’m going to kiss you. Like, a lot. And I’m not going to worry about getting caught and after we’ve snogged like a pair of kids in high school- sorry, secondary school, then we’re going to eat a bunch more food and dance with our friends. And if you want to get sloshed, I promise I will only take funny videos for myself, and I will not send them to your mum this time.”

Jamie says, “Liar,” as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Fine,” you concede, “I will most definitely send them to your mum. And Simon. We’re on a group chat.”

“Not even gonna fucking ask,” Jamie says as he threads a hand through your hair so he can get at a better angle to kiss you.

—

You wake up the next morning (ahem, afternoon) to Jamie’s foot in your face.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say.

He hiccups himself awake. “Yeah?” he rumbles. “What fucking time..?”

“Late, I assume,” you say.

He groans and flips himself around so your heads are on the same side of the bed. He wastes no time in tangling your limbs together.

“Oi, koala boy. Some of us have morning breath.”

“No y’don’t babe,” he mumbles.

You scratch his head and a shudder runs through his body. “I know,” you say, “my breath is perfect. I meant you. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Cruel woman,” he returns before lapsing into silence. The sun slips through the curtains, and you’re sure it’s going to be another gorgeous day

“Jamie,” you begin then stop.

He says, “Yeah, love?” while looking up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes and you take a moment to freeze this image in your head. 

Jamie Tartt, in bed, hair tousled from sleep. Pillowy white duvet, golden freckled skin, warm body pressed to yours.

He kisses your shoulder, rousing you from your thoughts. 

“Jamie,” you say again, “I wanted to say-”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “You’re not fucking allowed to say thank you for the bare fucking minimum.”

“But it’s not,” you reply, opting to skate over the fact that he apparently can read your mind. “Bare minimum is like, making sure I’m not alone with him, not getting your friends together to scare him off and break his foot.”

Jamie’s been kissing your skin wherever he can reach as you speak, so his words are interspersed with pecks. “Technically, the foot was an accident. Ask any one of our witnesses. And besides, they’re your friends too. You’re the one who got ‘em all to like ya despite the fact we’re mortal enemies on the pitch.”

“You’re the one who goes tanning with Jack,” you remind him.

“Lies told by the press,” Jamie grumbles. “This is my natural sexy glow.”

You say, “Okay little British boy,” as Jamie decides that his current position is not enough and he wants to lay on top of you.

He says something but his face is buried in the crook of your neck, so all you can feel is vibrations.

You ask, “Hm?” so he lifts his head.

“What if it were us next year?”

“Tanning or breaking feet?”

“Getting married.”

Jamie goes back to having his mouth on your neck as if the air weren’t just punched from your lungs.

You’re quiet long enough that he lifts his head again to ask, “Is that good quiet or bad quiet?”

“Good!” you hastily confirm. “Good, but, babe- you haven’t even asked me yet.”

He says, “I’m going to,” as if you should have known already. 

“Okay,” you breathe, “can you give me like a little heads up or something so my nails are done?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, “At the end of the week. Been planning it. Ring’s in my bag, even asked Stella if she’d be pissed that it’s the same week she took on the most un-sexy last name in history. She said she don’t give a shit as long as it’s not at her actual wedding. So.”

“I love you,” you tell him. “Not just because of yesterday or right now. I just think you’re great.”

“I am great, babe,” he says like it’s obvious. “Picked you, didn’t I?”

You crack a smile. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. Do you want to get out of bed or go back to sleep?”

“Sleep,” he replies immediately. 

“Thank God,” you groan, “I didn’t want to move. You’re like a weighted blanket.”

“It’s me sexy muscles,” Jamie says. You wiggle under him to get more comfortable.

“Uh huh,” you agree, but the words are hardly out of your mouth before you’re both back to sleep.

[duckprintspress]

Celebrate Native American Heritage Month with 7 Queer Books We Love

November is National Native American Heritage Month! We’re celebrating with books (as always, lol). We asked our rec list contibutors for their favorite queer books either by Native American authors or starring Native American characters. Most of these books (maybe all, I couldn’t confirm for all the authors) are both! Contributors to the list are Nina Waters, hullosweetpea, D.V. Morse, Shea Sullivan and an anonymous contributor.

-

Indiginerds edited by Alina Pete

First Nations culture is living, vibrant, and evolving…

…and generations of Indigenous kids have grown up with pop culture creeping inexorably into our lives. From gaming to social media, pirate radio to garage bands, Star Trek to D&D, and missed connections at the pow wow, Indigenous culture is so much more than how it’s usually portrayed. These comics are here to celebrate those stories!

Featuring an all-Indigenous creative team, INDIGINERDS is an exhilarating anthology collecting 11 stories about Indigenous people balancing traditional ways of knowing with modern pop culture.

-

Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Díaz

Postcolonial Love Poem is a thunderous river of a book, an anthem of desire against erasure. It demands that every body carried in its pages – bodies of language, land, suffering brothers, enemies and lovers – be touched and held. Here, the bodies of indigenous, Latinx, black and brown women are simultaneously the body politic and the body ecstatic, and portrayed with a glowing intimacy: the alphabet of a hand in the dark, the hips’ silvered percussion, a thigh’s red-gold geometry, the emerald tigers that leap in a throat. In claiming this autonomy of desire, language is pushed to its dark edges, the astonishing dune fields and forests where pleasure and love are both grief and joy, violence and sensuality.

Natalie Diaz defies the conditions from which she writes, a nation whose creation predicated the diminishment and ultimate erasure of bodies like hers and the people she loves. Her poetry questions what kind of future we might create, built from the choices we make now – how we might learn our own cures and ‘go where there is love’.

-

A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger

Nina is a Lipan girl in our world. She’s always felt there was something more out there. She still believes in the old stories.

Oli is a cottonmouth kid, from the land of spirits and monsters. Like all cottonmouths, he’s been cast from home. He’s found a new one on the banks of the bottomless lake.

Nina and Oli have no idea the other exists. But a catastrophic event on Earth, and a strange sickness that befalls Oli’s best friend, will drive their worlds together in ways they haven’t been in centuries.

And there are some who will kill to keep them apart.

-

Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology edited by Shane Hawk and Theodore C. Van Alst Jr.

Many Indigenous people believe that one should never whistle at night. This belief takes many forms: for instance, Native Hawaiians believe it summons the Hukai’po, the spirits of ancient warriors, and Native Mexicans say it calls Lechuza, a witch that can transform into an owl. But what all these legends hold in common is the certainty that whistling at night can cause evil spirits to appear–and even follow you home.These wholly original and shiver-inducing tales introduce readers to ghosts, curses, hauntings, monstrous creatures, complex family legacies, desperate deeds, and chilling acts of revenge. Introduced and contextualized by bestselling author Stephen Graham Jones, these stories are a celebration of Indigenous peoples’ survival and imagination, and a glorious reveling in all the things an ill-advised whistle might summon.

-

The Witch King (Witch King series) by H.E. Edgmon

Wyatt would give anything to forget where he came from–but a kingdom demands its king.

In Asalin, fae rule and witches like Wyatt Croft…don’t. Wyatt’s betrothal to his best friend, fae prince Emyr North, was supposed to change that. But when Wyatt lost control of his magic one devastating night, he fled to the human world.

Now a coldly distant Emyr has hunted him down. Despite transgender Wyatt’s newfound identity and troubling past, Emyr has no intention of dissolving their engagement. In fact, he claims they must marry now or risk losing the throne. Jaded, Wyatt strikes a deal with the enemy, hoping to escape Asalin forever. But as he gets to know Emyr, Wyatt realizes the boy he once loved may still exist. And as the witches face worsening conditions, he must decide once and for all what’s more important–his people or his freedom.

-

Elatsoe (Elatsoe series) by Darcie Little Badger

Imagine an America very similar to our own. It’s got homework, best friends, and pistachio ice cream.

There are some differences. This America been shaped dramatically by the magic, monsters, knowledge, and legends of its peoples, those Indigenous and those not. Some of these forces are charmingly everyday, like the ability to make an orb of light appear or travel across the world through rings of fungi. But other forces are less charming and should never see the light of day.

Elatsoe lives in this slightly stranger America. She can raise the ghosts of dead animals, a skill passed down through generations of her Lipan Apache family. Her beloved cousin has just been murdered, in a town that wants no prying eyes. But she is going to do more than pry. The picture-perfect facade of Willowbee masks gruesome secrets, and she will rely on her wits, skills, and friends to tear off the mask and protect her family.

-

Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky series) by Rebecca Roanhorse

A god will return When the earth and sky converge Under the black sun

In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial event proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world.

Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a man’s mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio, is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain.

What are your favorite queer books with Native American representation?

Want to chat your favorite reads with us? Join our Book Lover’s Discord server!

Update your Goodreads TBR with any of these books by visiting our queer Native American books shelf  on Goodreads!Shop books with Native American rep using our rec list on our Bookshop.org affiliate page!

[teenwolfbywitchofhellridge]

My little crush on Tyler Hoechlin

Alright, let’s talk about Tyler Hoechlin, my inexplicable (or maybe very explicable) crush, wrapped up in a mix of his roles, his genuine charm, and his whole vibe that just gets me—a Polish introvert who finds herself absolutely smitten by this effortlessly warm American actor.

Let’s start with the roles that first hooked me in. Obviously, Teen Wolf’s Derek Hale, that brooding, growling, protector-with-trust-issues, instantly stole my heart. I’m here for all that tortured, misunderstood energy, wrapped up in a leather jacket and a stare that could probably kill vampires, if it came to that. And then, fast-forward to Superman & Lois, and suddenly Tyler is this open, clumsy, adorkable Clark Kent who’s trying to keep his life together with a dimpled smile and big-hearted sincerity. Talk about a range! From intense alpha werewolf to the world’s sweetest superhero, he’s got both ends of the spectrum covered—and he nails them both, effortlessly.

But it’s not just those headline roles. No, the crush really deepened when I started to notice him in some of his lesser-known projects. Take Bigger, where he plays Joe Weider, a guy with this quiet resilience, building a fitness empire from the ground up. It’s a subtler performance, filled with understated glances and moments that could easily go overlooked if you’re not paying attention—but Tyler makes you pay attention. He brings this determined vulnerability to the character, making you believe that Joe really did have what it took to change the world, one dumbbell at a time. It’s not flashy, but that’s what makes it so good; he gets the art of holding back, of letting the quiet moments do the talking.

And speaking of talking, don’t even get me started on his interviews. Tyler’s one of those rare actors who doesn’t just go through the motions; he brings a thoughtfulness to his interviews that’s downright magnetic. He’s humble, insightful, and introspective, the kind of guy who makes you want to listen to his perspective on, well, everything. He’ll casually talk about how he’s drawn to roles with depth or explain why certain characters matter to him, and suddenly I’m nodding along like I’m in a mini philosophy class. He’s clearly someone who cares about what he does, and that sincerity shows in every role he takes.

And then, the cherry on top: how he is with his fans. Now, as a Polish introvert, I’ve always marveled at that American openness, that effortless way of connecting with people without a second thought. Tyler takes this openness to another level, especially when he’s meeting fans. He doesn’t just do the polite smile and nod; he’s actually present. You can see it in the way he takes his time with each person, his expression saying, “Hey, it’s totally okay if you’re a little starstruck—I get it.” It’s like he understands that fans might be a bit nervous, maybe even overwhelmed, and he doesn’t just brush it off; he embraces it. He’s calm, kind, grounded, making everyone feel seen, even those of us who’d rather be hiding under a table than meeting a celebrity.

I can’t quite explain why that resonates so much with me. Maybe it’s my introverted heart that’s secretly in awe of someone who can be that open and kind, or maybe it’s just him. Because while I’d be mentally preparing for hours to hold a decent conversation, he seems to connect with people from all walks of life in a heartbeat. There’s a sincerity there, a genuine warmth, and it makes me admire him not just as an actor but as a fellow human. So, yes, call it a crush or maybe a bit of a fascination, but I’ll happily admit that Tyler Hoechlin isn’t just a talented actor or a charismatic presence on screen. He’s someone who’s got this blend of thoughtfulness, authenticity, and warmth that somehow manages to charm even the quietest, most introverted corners of my Polish heart. There’s something comforting in knowing there are people out there like him—kind, grounded, and entirely okay with meeting fans in whatever emotional state they’re in. It’s rare, and it makes him more than just another celebrity. He feels, honestly, like a genuinely good human.

And hey, I’m not usually one to get sentimental (okay, maybe a little), but if we’re talking about life and last wishes here… well, it’s pretty clear. If I were dying and somehow had one final wish, some precious wish granted through one of those hospice programs for kids (and fine, I know I’m not a kid, but bear with me!), that wish would absolutely be dinner with Tyler Hoechlin. Just a simple meal, no glamor or glitz, where I could sit across from him, laugh, and maybe get to see up close if he’s really as down-to-earth as he seems.

A part of me thinks he’d make it unforgettable, not just for me but for anyone lucky enough to be there. And even if my introvert soul would be struggling to form coherent sentences, it’d still be perfect, just for the chance to see that kind smile in real life, even for a little while.

[loversj0y]

For your 200 follower event you should do Invisible String with Wil! Maybe inspired by him being on tour, and once you guys connect, you realize all the similarities/close calls you’ve had to each other?

invisible string

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

tws: bars/references to drinking

notes: this might be tphe longest one bc it felt wrong making it Not long, i guess so i hope you enjoy :3

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @melunnek

You hated heartbreak and the way it seemed to accompany you like an old friend. Several bad breakups led to the collective feeling of needing to leave, wanting to run, so you did. It wasn’t hard to find a university you could study abroad in and accommodations, especially with the proficiency in your courses meaning a scholarship wasn’t hard to find. Choosing a place to go was the hardest part; you knew you wanted to go to the UK, but you didn’t know where. Thankfully, there was a pretty simple solution: throwing a dart at a map. Leading you here: Brighton. The taxi drove you to your new apartment, and there was a rock song playing you’d wished to have gotten the name of before you got dropped off. 

After a week of unpacking and settling in, you’d gotten notably bored. So you decided to look for a place to go, or something to do, and you stumbled across a pretty small club that seemed quite nice. You walked in, and at first it reminded you of the dive bars back in America, but a bit nicer. You went up to the bar and ordered quickly, trying to speak a bit quieter given the glaringly obvious American accent. It wasn’t enough to entirely hide it, though. Once you got your drink, a blond boy who’d been next to you at the bar spoke up, loudly.

“Are you American?”

You looked at him and nodded. He seemed a bit younger, but given that he was in here meant he was probably at least 18. “Yeah, I just moved here.”

He perked up, grinning, “Follow me!” He didn’t give you much a choice before grabbing your arm and dragging you over to his friends, “My name’s Tommy, by the way! My brother Wilbur loves America, so he’ll be excited to meet you, c’mon!”

You chuckled, allowing yourself to be dragged over by him. He brought you to a group of five people, two of whom were incredibly tall. All five of them were giving an incredulous look at Tommy, making you laugh a bit. 

“Wilbur!” Tommy basically yelled as he pulled you over, “I found an American!”

You fought the urge to hide your face in your hands, instead taking a sip of your drink.

One of the taller guys, who you presumed was Wilbur, sputtered at Tommy, “Tommy! You can’t just drag someone over because they’re American, for fucks sake.”

“Yes, but you love America and you needed some cheering up, so ta-da!”

Wilbur just facepalmed, sighing and looking over at you now. He was an attractive guy, light brown curls and a tall frame, plus a good fashion sense if the Doc Martins were anything to go off of. “I am so sorry he abducted you. He is a child with no sense of manners.”

You chuckled softly, especially as Tommy gasped dramatically in response. “It’s alright,” you smiled softly, “Beats the alternative of sitting alone at the bar for an hour, so.” You shrugged.

Wilbur gave you a bit of a thoughtful look, but before he could speak up, the girl next to Tommy spoke.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, even if he literally just dragged you over. I’m Molly, Tommy’s girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled softly, before Tommy took charge once more.

“Yes, right! Introductions! I’m Tommy, obviously the coolest one here, Molly is my wonderful and only wife, Jack over there is an dick, don’t be friends with him, but that’s his girlfriend Ellie, she’s too cool for him. You spoke to Wilbur, my lame brother, already, and the only one taller than him is the very gorgeous Ranboo,” he explained.

Not a single person looked pleased with his explanation, but they also didn’t exactly look surprised by him.

“Right, well, nice to meet you guys. I’m Y/N.”

“So, you’re actually from America? Are you visiting?” Jack asked, a kind smile on his face.

“Yeah, uh, I just moved here actually. I just needed a change of pace, I guess, so I actually transferred to the university out here.”

He nodded, and you could feel the entire group’s eyes on you for a moment. It was a bit unsettling, but that was more just the nerves.

“Cool, fellow American,” the tallest one, Ranboo, spoke up. You looked up at him (he was really tall), and you smiled. 

“Glad to know I’m not the only one out here. How’d you end up out here?”

“Uh… work, actually. It’s kind of a long story, but I had to move out here for my work stuff, so I did.” He shifted his eyes a bit as he spoke, and you just nodded, assuming he didn’t want to be pressed on the matter.

“Wilbur,” Tommy spoke, “tell them some cool America facts.”

“Tommy, they very likely know them better than me given that they actually lived there.” Wilbur chuckled softly.

I smiled softly at Wilbur, “I’d still like to hear them. Maybe I can tell you if you’re mistaken about any of them.”

He looked over and gave you a grin, and the conversations paired off. You and Wilbur discussed America and where you lived, and the fact that Americans need to stop building parking lots, which you agreed with.

After nearly an hour and a half, he disengaged, turning to Tommy, “I have to head out now, Toms. I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?”

Tommy nodded, then gave Wilbur a bit of an evil grin, turning to you, “Did Wilbur tell you he’s a big musician? He’s got to leave early because he’s got a gig tomorrow and has to do boring musician things.”

“Really?” You grinned softly, “That’s really fucking cool.”

“Yeah, well, Wilbur’s lame, but his band is cool. You should come to the gig!” Tommy exclaimed, and Wilbur’s cheeks dusted red, eyes widening at Tommy.

“I’d love to, but, only if it’s okay with you, I guess,” You looked up at Wilbur, raising your eyebrows.

He nodded a bit stiffly, “yeah, no, that’d be great. The more the merrier. I’ll see you both tomorrow then.” He waved, heading off quite quickly after.

“Is… he going to be mad at you for inviting me?” You chuckled, looking over at Tommy.

“Eh, he will be at first. I’ll probably wake up to an upset text, but it’s just because he gets nervous playing in front of people he wants to impress. Once he does fine after, he’ll text me all ‘Oh, Tommy, you’re so smart and right, thank you for inviting them since I was too much of a pussyhole to ask myself,’” he mocked Wilbur’s voice, and you laughed a bit. You blushed slightly at the implication that Wilbur wanted to impress you.

After a bit longer, the group dispersed, and you headed home. You actually ended up living pretty close to Tommy, who was about two blocks down from you. As you headed inside to your apartment, you smiled and got excited at the idea of going to the gig tomorrow and seeing Wilbur again. You fell asleep excited and wondering what type of music you’d hear from him and pleased with the people you’d happened to find. 

You managed to get to the gig without too much trouble the next day, and you were shocked by the sheer amount of people waiting outside. Tommy had texted you about going to a back entrance, which thankfully wasn’t too hard to find. He was waiting by the door to help you in as well, and you felt immediately starstruck. 

The place was pretty big, and Wilbur was already standing in the centre of the stage, practicing something on his guitar. The lights were hitting him perfectly, and he looked like an angel. You struggled to look away, until Tommy came up and basically draped himself against you.

“Stop simpin’ after Wilbur, c’monnnn, we’re heading backstage. He needs his little ‘rockstar-practice time’ or whatever.”

You flushed, turning away from Wilbur, “I’m not simping, I’m just in awe. This is really cool.”

“Yeah, yeah, well,” he walked further backstage with you following him, “you should’ve seen how long it took him to get used to it. Whole band did a bunch of fake shows to get used to performing.”

“Really? That’s smart, actually.”

Tommy just shrugged, taking you to room backstage where there was a much larger group of people than the night before. You recognized Molly and Jack, but the other three were complete strangers.

“Oh, Y/N, you came!” Molly grinned, waving. You waved back at her, nodding a bit. 

“These lot are more of the band. They are much cooler than Wilbur, you’ll find. That’s Ash, Leandra, and Mark.”

You waved, saying a quick hello, before allowing yourself to become an observer of the conversation.

The show started not too long after, with you, Jack, Molly, and Tommy watching from the side stage. You quickly discovered that the band, Lovejoy, was incredibly popular, and their music was fantastic. And Wilbur.

Wilbur was something else on stage. He was fully in his element, lights covering him in halo glows. His voice was melodic, and it made you want to melt. From the side stage, you could see how he leaned against the mic, the passion in his voice, and the intensity he matched in each song. It was about halfway through the show though, that you felt you blood run cold.

The song you’d heard in the cab when you moved in. It was their song. And if that wasn’t just the biggest coincidence slapping you in the face than god knows what was. You didn’t know what to make of it, other than feeling incredibly overwhelmed by fate and the new friends you’d made.

By the end of the show, you felt strange. You felt incredibly uncertain about your place in the world most days, but for some reason, as you watched Wilbur approach you and the group, you felt like there was no where else you belonged.

“Hey,” he walked over with a grin, “You came! What did you think?”

He looked almost nervous as he asked, sweat still dripping from his forehead as you chuckled, “It was amazing! I actually recognized one as well!”

A startled look crossed his face for a moment, “You did? Which one?”

“The, ah, I didn’t catch the name of it originally, but I want to say it’s Call Me What You Like if the setlists are correct. It was playing in my cab when I was dropped off in Brighton.”

He grinned, “Really? It was on the radio?” 

You nodded, “Yeah! I thought it was fantastic, but I didn’t have time to catch the name. At least now I don’t have to worry about forgetting it.”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t let you,” he gave you a grin that shined brighter than any light on that stage, and you felt butterflies flood your stomach as you considered that maybe it was fate that brought you here.

Sometimes you didn’t consider the ways that time worked. In the span of one year, so much more had changed than you’d ever even considered. You moved to a new country, started a new school, made new friends. You cut your hair, changed your wardrobe, got a better music taste. You became much more social, started dating Wilbur, learned to feel more confident in yourself. 

The relationship probably was the most shocking of anything to happen. But it happened quickly, and it felt so right and so easy, as if your previous heartbreaks never occurred. You still had problems, mind you, however, there was something within you telling you it was fate constantly. 

You thought about fate a lot when you thought about your relationship. The random effect of the universe tended to have a weird way of making you think about stuff like that. The statistical chances of choosing to move to Brighton by throwing a dart at a map, of hearing Wilbur’s song play in your cab. Then there were the numerous things you’d learned over time, small coincidences that pointed to a string of fate tying you together. Of the color of his first album being the color of your first prom dress. Of the time he visited America and ended up staying twenty minutes from where you lived. Of your first boyfriend sharing Wilbur’s middle name. Of all these tiny clues of parallel moments within your lives that you could only see now in retrospect. 

The biggest thing within this string was the connection you felt to him that first night. It felt like that little string pulled you straight into that bar. When all of a sudden, all the stress and feelings you’d had about heartbreak and needing to run felt soothed, all past mistakes feeling fuzzy in comparison to something that was so right. 

“Darling,” Wilbur chuckled softly, “What are you thinking so hard about?” He smiled, walking over to where you were already laying down, ready for bed. 

“Do you ever think about fate?” You asked as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Not often, I guess. Why?”

“I just think about us, and I just feel like there’s been a string connecting us, tying us together, and we just couldn’t see it.”

He smiled softly, slowly getting into bed next to you, “You think?”

“I don’t know for certain. But I know that there’s way too many coincidences to be normal. And that in one year, just by moving here… I don’t know it feels like I wasn’t living before being here, and even more now that I’m with you. I actually feel in charge of my life. Like time just changed everything for the better, and I have to at least believe that maybe it’s because fate brought us here.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him, “Yeah. I’ve never quite thought about it like that. I like that idea though. I mean, the chances of us actually meeting were so slim. As much as I don’t love the concept of fate, I’ll love fate for this. Because if fate is what brought me to you, then I owe it so much.” 

You smiled lovingly at him, leaning forward to kiss him gently, “I owe it so much too. That- that little thread of gold tying us together.”

He held you a bit tighter, turning off the lamp next to him, “You think it’d be gold?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He chuckled, “Why is that?”

“Because it’s your last name. And the leaves were gold when I moved here in the fall. What about you?”

“Hm,” he hummed, “Gold could be fitting. But I think it’d be some sort of blue or purple, like the sunset we watched on our first proper date.”

“That’d be nice,” you smiled softly, “I’m just glad it was there, if it is real.”

“Me too, love,” he whispered, before pulling you into a slow and gentle kiss. 

[swlyf-24]

The Exploding Star

Oscar had learnt astronomy just for Logan. He never cared for it, finding it boring to engulf yourself in the lights of the sky. But ever since Logan had told him that he loved astronomy, he had a desire to learn more to just connect with Logan about it. Logan had been Oscar’s North star, Polaris; Oscar’s way back home. Logan was Oscar’s home. Everywhere he went, Oscar sought out. Polaris was bright, shining brightly despite the dark that tries to dim its light. It reminded Oscar much of Logan; despite all the challenges on and off track, Logan seemed to get through it with that smile of his. His eyes would crinkle and his lips would curl into a toothy smile, and his American accent. The way words would sculpt themselves into those that fit Logan’s voice. 

Ever since F1 started for the both of them, Oscar found it hard to cope. Difficult to maintain the relationships that he once had, to even have time to himself without burying himself into data and training. Fortunately, Lando was like a lifeline, pulling him from the isolating grip of F1. Oscar never felt so sequestered anymore, his days spent shouting and laughing through video calls with Lando and his friends. His once silent and kept-to-himself nature was gone, replaced by a personality that was all smiles. Some might even call him a cat. 

Despite everything that had been going on in Oscar’s life, he had never felt like he was trapped in a dead end before. Not until this one race. He hadn’t scored the place that he wanted to, his expectations burning at him. How difficult was it to even make it to the podium? P4? Really? Oscar knew he could do better, he must. Anger stirred and boiled and popped in his blood, his anger controlling him like a pawn on a checkerboard. Of course, his day had gotten so much worse. He just wanted to take a walk around the paddock, to try and relieve his anger.  But someone had been careless enough to bump into him. A scoff left his lips before he could even think of a response. 

“Watch it.” Oscar lifted his head, ready to give the other person a piece of his mind. How dare- 

Oh.

“Oscar.” The American accent weaved its way into Oscar’s heart once more, pulling at his heart like a guitar. It had been so long since Oscar last seen Logan. His hair had grown out, he was visibly thinner. Logan’s sunglasses did little to hide the tentative hope in his eyes. Oscar’s anger still boiled in his mind, wishing to attack like a predator just to have a sense of feeling normal again. “Oh,” he muttered out, pulling his lips into his mouth, teeth pulling the skin apart. “Logan.” Oscar offered, he nodded hoping to conceal his anger. He couldn’t mess this meeting up. But with every passing second of the silence, his anger grew again like a relentless wave. 

A streak of disappointment painted Logan’s face before he schooled it into an unreadable one. 

“How are you-” 

“I have to go-”

Oscar didn’t want to lash out at Logan, he didn’t deserve any of it. It only broke his heart further, knowing that Logan wanted to reconnect again, to fill the drift that they had created. The sun seemed to shine brighter, reflecting off Logan’s sunglasses. “If you don’t mind..” Oscar shuffled his feet past Logan, trudging towards Mclaren. Maybe after they could talk once more, to contain the void that was created. 

Polaris seemed to drift further. 

You

Hey

Sorry for today, I had a meeting. You’d get it. 

A meeting, yeah right. Oscar wanted to delete that last message. “You’d get it”? “You’d get it”?

You

Hey

Sorry for today, I had a meeting. You’d get it. 

                                                            Seen 11:46

Fuck. 

Logan

 Oh yeah dude. No worries. 

Oscar couldn’t mess up now. He had everything on the line. 

So

How have you been 

He could only hope Logan found peace in Williams, that his team was treating him well. Even through his challenges on track.

As well as I can in a WIlliams haha

You?

That could mean nothing and everything. Was Logan well? What about his relationship with Alex? Were they on good terms?

Great

Meeting Lando had been the best day since 

Lando and his friends are great, they’re practically my everyday life now 

Was it too far? Did Oscar hurt Logan just by talking about Lando? They hadn’t talked for what felt like years and all Oscar could talk about was his new friends. 

Oh, really? I’ve never met them before 

Tell me

Maybe it wasn't that bad of an idea. Oscar went on a rant of every person he met through Lando, their personalities matching one another bringing them endless adventures and jokes in their everyday life. Before he even knew it, he had talked Logan’s ear off for 1 hour and possibly more. 

It’s late, I hope I didn’t bore you with all the stories

Thanks mate, night

The void, much like a terrorising fire, was doused, contained. 

Yeah, no worries

Ever since that night, Oscar had found it more difficult to talk to Logan due to his busy schedule and his lack of communication skills. He couldn’t embarrass himself in front of Logan, what kind of new impression would that be to him? Oscar just hoped that they would have a chance again, not letting a fire of some sort burn them. 

Logan

Happy birthday

¼ to 100!

Logan had remembered Oscar’s birthday and even went the extra mile to wish him at exactly midnight where a new day arrived. He would cry if he weren’t so drunk in that bar in Montreal. 

Maybe Oscar should’ve replied, not getting wasted in a bar. 

Logan

Im sorrru

Sorry 

I thitjk i drank ttoo mkcuh

tqhaks for evryerhting 

Your’e my best friend eveb id im nit yousr

yorue my south satr the octiatis

Everything went by in a blur. Oscar had broken into Logan’s hotel, in his bathroom. He tried making Logan vomit the pills and alcohol out of his system, but Logan only flopped around like a fish out of water. He wept for someone out of reach yet the body was in his hands. 

If Oscar was Logan’s Octantis, then Logan is his Polaris. The North star to his South.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side A

Propaganda below ⬇️

Abuelita Alma Madrigal Propaganda:

There's a church in the Encanto as well as a priest and given how strong her grip is and how much of a control freak she is, I would very much doubt she'd allow people to believe in other miracles than Pedro's if she wasn't, herself catholic. Also I mean south american turn of the century family they're probably catholic.

Listen at least Alma is!!! The candle!! The importance of the church!!! The vibes are just there!!!! The idea of being a savior by sacrificing yourself (or at least your personality/grief) for your people? That’s SO catholic coded PLEASE

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler Propaganda:

good lord where do i start. in the animated series he converts logan to catholisism and then fucks off basically thats the main thing he did there. i think one time they tried to make him a demon to explain how he looked but everyone hated that. he sold his soul one time to help his friends out after he died. he and logan have a weird little gay thing. he was a priest one time but he was made a priest by a fake bishop from a religion that hates mutants iirc so he just wasnt a priest. like 3 people have written him in a way i like and one of those is my friend just talking about how they view him.

wow marvel loves making catholic characters dress/look like demons

Kurt is a mutant who was born to mystique who looks a LOT like a devil (technically is half one but that cannon truth isn't real go back to bed), his mother dropped him off a cliff when he was born and he was picked up by a Romani group/circus (fuck old comics man) however he then narrowly escaped being sold to a freak show and found himself in a small German town. There he met a kind priest, who showed him God, and he quickly grew attached to the idea- However, it wasn't long before people began labeling him a demon and soon the whole town was against him with pitchforks and fire. Cornered and injured, Kurt thought this might be the end for him- maybe he would see heaven so long after finding it- but he was then saved by Charles Xavier who invited him to the X-Men. AND ITS BEEN SO MANY YEARS AND HE HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THERE. SO MUCH. SO GOD DAMN MUCH. BUT THE MOST AAAA THING TO ME CONCERNING HIS FAITH HE WHEN HE LITERALLY DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN BUT THEN BECAUSE OF DRAMA WITH HIS FATHER HAD TO BRING HIS FRIENDS IN WITH HIM FROM THE BEYOND. THEN WITH ALOT OF TROUBLE THEY FOUGHT HIS FATHER AND THE ONLY WAY KURT SAW TO STOP HIM WAS IN A MOVE THAT STRIPPED THEM BOTH OF THEIR SOULS AND PUT THEM BACK ON EARTH. SO KURT CANONICALLY HAS NOW LOST HIS ABILITY FOR ETERNAL PEACE, LOST HIS VERY SOUL, TO SAVE PEOPLE- AND ALSO TOLD NO ONE NOT EVEN HIS GAY LOVER WOLVERINE.

Nightcrawler is a mutant vigilante who looks like a classical demon. He can't even go to church without people panicking and trying to exorcize him. Despite it all, he's so full of faith and hope and compassion, and he wants to believe the best of everyone. Also, he's bffs with an extremely angry Jewish sword lesbian. That has nothing to do with anything, but it's important to me that you all know that.

What if you were a devout christian and literally looked like the devil? He nearly became the pope, which was a plot by some supervillains that also involved faking a rapture? There is nothing like comics I swear to god.

A catholic who is half demon I don’t think I can better explain a struggle than that. But his character is so relatable to people who feel unwelcome with their congregation because of something that is a part of them but still feeling a connection to the faith. Kurt actively engaged in his faith and shares how his faith helps him through all the things he has faced in life and how he found a home with those of the church who leave the judging to God.

so they made kurt a priest briefly before deciding to retcon it, resulting in nightcrawler actually being part of a plan by villains to promote him to pope then reveal to the world that the pope is a demon. wild.

I have a side blog and a tattoo about him and i really really want him to win

Wisecracking devil-appearing devout Catholic with the Best superpower (teleportation)? HECK YES

German Catholic circus acrobat who looks like a demon & can teleport through a hellish alternate dimension with a puff of sulfur. Character of all time.

hes catholic and his dad is the devil. what could be funnier than that. also hes my silly little guy.

Nightcrawler is the world’s most fun catholic priest. I first was introduced to this kindhearted teleporting acrobat while he saved a boat full of stowaway refugees from inter dimensional pirates with swashbuckling gusto!

[neufer]

No one asked for this, but I wanted to go through my outsiders playlist and talk about my thought process behind each song. I love making playlists for characters and stories and think making the connections between them and the songs is very fun. If anything this is just for me to have my thoughts actually articulated and written down, but I figured someone else might enjoy it too.

Here is the playlist I’m talking about.

Okay so the first two songs are obviously from the movie and are there just to set the tone.

This next group of songs is all about being a greaser. Sort of wild and crazy because of the circumstances. Specific lyrics that demonstrate this: “I used to be such a sweet sweet thing ‘til they got a hold of me” (No More Mr. Nice Guy) and both choruses of Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked and Youth Gone Wild. The others songs are based mostly off of vibes, and I saw a post on here one time headcanoning some of the gang jamming out to Respect, and it’s like, yes give them their respect.

This group of songs is similar but it gets a little more deep and specific to certain characters. I really love Ethel Cain so I wanted to include American Teenager partly because of that. It might be a reach but I think “a long cold war with your kids at the front” is pretty outsiders coded, same with “it’s just not my year” and the whole second verse. The lines about being wasted and handling liquor remind me of Two-Bit, and the mention of Jesus reminds me of Ponyboy and Johnny. Patches by Clarence Carter is a new addition and it gives me Darry having to take over vibes. Point of Know Return for me is Ponyboy wanting to get out of Tulsa, kind of like, how long until he reaches the point where he can’t stand not to leave, until the point of no return? The lines “Your father, he said he needs you. Your mother, she said she loves you. Your brothers, they echo your words,” are also very Curtis bros coded. Standing Outside The Fire and The Poet are both very Ponyboy, specifically his passion and heightened sense of emotion and him being that way in the rough neighborhood he grew up in. I guess you could say those two songs also apply to Sodapop, and Standing Outside The Fire is also very greaser vs soc.

These two songs are about Cherry and Bob. Specifically about his drinking and other wild habits and how she knows they maybe aren’t the best for each other. “Them boys are out and they’re angry and they’re lookin’ for blood” in Oklahoma Smokeshow is also SO soc coded it’s crazy. I’m pretty sure I saw a post on here about that song relating to the outsiders so that kind of gave me the idea.

Class of 2013 is Johnny Cade, simple as that. I also think “you have so much to do and I have nothing ahead of me” in Your Best American Girl is kind of Johnny to Pony/the rest of the gang, but I also saw an edit to this song where it was Darry to Ponyboy, and that is so valid as well. And, if you’re a Darry/Paul truther, it’s also Darry to Paul (the rest of the song too, not just that one lyric). Now Runs in the Family is kind of hit or miss. Like the song in the musical, it talks about being doomed from the beginning, but I see it more as Ponyboy’s tendency to overthink and his breakdown at the end of the story. Also not being able to run from his family. There’s some more in the lyrics about the family kind of exploiting the person whose pov is the pov the song is from, and I don’t think that relates to the outsiders in any way.

This is where it starts to get serious. Obviously we have two songs from the musical. They, and another one that comes later, are in my opinion the ones that sum up the themes of the outsiders perfectly, so I wanted to include them. Fly To The Angels is about Johnny’s death and the other characters having to let him go, specifically “heaven awaits your heart and flowers bloom in your name.” Mama I’m Coming Home is about Dally’s death. I’ve been thinking of it as Dally’s pov, and while it may not work perfectly, I think it still works. Specifically, “times have changed and times are strange, here I come but I ain’t the same.” I also really like “lost and found and turned around by the fire in your eyes” but I don’t really know who that would be about from Dally’s pov. Maybe Johnny?

These next four songs are all Ponyboy mourning Johnny and Dally and longing for them to still be alive. Tuesday’s Gone is a bonus because it talks about a train and the phrase “gone with the wind.” I saw an edit of the three of them to Crab, so that’s where I got the idea for that. There’s nothing in particular about Comin’ Home, just a vibe. Copperline is all about a sense of nostalgia for a place/time you can’t go back to and if that’s not perfect idk what is. The line that does it for me the most is “I tried to go back as if I could, all spec house and plywood. Tore up and tore up good, down on copperline.”

Then these last three songs are obviously the epitome of Johnny’s message about staying gold. Stevie Wonder’s Stay Gold from the movie is a little less optimistic than the one from the musical, but I think it still fits well here at the end. Fooling Yourself (The Angry Young Man) is actually very similar to Stay Gold from the musical in that it’s about having a better outlook (“you’re the one they can’t beat and you know it”, “just take your best shot and don’t blow it”). Obviously it applies to Ponyboy but I also think it could apply to Darry as well. And then of course Stay Gold from the musical. It’s tied with Throwing in the Towel as my favorite from the soundtrack so I would have included it no matter what, but what else would I have ended on? To me, Stay Gold perfectly encapsulates one of the main messages of the whole story. It’s the biggest message that I’ve taken from my recently renewed interest in the outsiders, so it only made sense to end with it.

If you made it this far or skimmed this far, thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading and hearing my thoughts.

[billdenbrough]

my uncle killed himself last night.

technically, he’s my mum’s cousin, but we’re pasifika, which means he’s my uncle. he’s one of her best friends in the whole world. she’s closer to him than she is to her actual brother.

when he told me the news, my dad gave a tiny biography. a refresher course, if you will. to some, this would indicate, i imagine, a great distance. a lack of familiarity. the thing you have to know, then, is my mother has one hundred and eight first cousins. multiple of them (who are also related to each other) have the same name.

but i’m sitting in a mall, looking at my google doc, thinking to myself, how am i going to connect a to b, and then i get a text, and i am staring at my phone for ten minutes. there is something weird and staticky and tight and panicky in my chest, but mostly everything is numb. i do not own a weighted blanket, but i imagine sometimes it might be like this. a grounding pressure coating everything. or maybe vaseline is closer to what i mean, keeping things in, keeping things out.

i call my dad. i take a list of errands. nothing to do with my uncle, or my mother, or grief, or death. they are the tasks my dad needs done, the things he was going to do today but now is not, because my mother’s heart is broken and he can’t leave her alone. so maybe they are to do with grief, kind of.

i drive through the city, and it sucks, because of course it does, but also it’s a saturday, and it’s a long weekend, and there are sales, and i am driving to the biggest mall in my area. and i get there, and i don’t really know where to go or what to do, so i try to nap in the back of my car. i lock all the doors, bunch up several of my jackets lying around, and set a timer for half an hour. after three minutes, it’s too hot, so i climb back up, figure out how to unlock the whole car, make my way to the front, turn it on, and put the back two windows down, just an inch or two. inches aren’t my favourite measurement—imprecise, unpractical, american—but it is what it is. i lay back down, and i try sleep, and i get maybe ten minutes of semi-aware rest before the noises outside stress me out too much, and then i spend the rest of the timer curled on my side, staring at my phone battery go down. my dad calls me back eventually, and gives me a direction. the first half of the great impersonator is my company for this, until my battery level stresses me out even more than the vaseline works, and i switch off bluetooth completely.

it starts raining at some point, and there is a wind tunnel, and my feet are sore because i’m not wearing my orthotics, which i am not wearing because they were making my feet ache. catch-22. i keep doing errands, and eventually, the lane i take when driving from one of the stores to a different mall leads me all the way to the house of someone i used to know, a boy who dated someone in my family for years and years and years. this is not great. i do not love this. i have spent the better part of a year adjusting to his absence, see, and reckoning with the big hurts people can deal people in ways that are small, in the greater scheme of things.

and i’m driving past his parents’ house, thinking about the last time i was there, and it’s probably less upsetting than it would be on a good day, but it is still a bad thing on a day that just managed to already be worse. and then i start thinking about my uncle, and my dad’s refresher bio, and how it did not include the fact that this man taught me how to weave, even though he did. he showed me how to weave hammocks and nets and helped me into a dinghy when i was ten and trying to bridge the gap of the ocean from the ladder to the boat and my mother loved him and relied on him and his smile is etched into my brain and now he is dead.

i finally get hungry. i woke up at 5am, my body causing me problems even after being up past midnight revisiting old stories and universes and ideas, and i’ve had one thing to eat around 9:30, and then everything has been too funny in my stomach to contend with the idea of eating. and then, suddenly, i am finally hungry, so much that it hurts. and i get food for my mother, who has not been eating all day, too full with grief, and i get food for myself, and some extra for my dad, and i drive through the rain and behind bad drivers and with songs i don’t know playing, until i get to the kitchen where my mother is, and i drop all my bags, and i hold her for a full minute while she shakes against me.

dad went for a walk, she says, and i give her the food, and i tell her i got the broth separate from the noodles so she can heat and eat it later if she isn’t ready now, and she says she will eat it.

and she is eating. and i am eating. and there she is. and here i am. and she says she wants to go back home. she wants to go this week, but she doesn’t know who can take care of the cat, because i will be in another city for three days and dad will be away for two. and she says how my uncle was such a big part of the reason she was so looking forward to going back home with all of us this christmas. they had so many big plans. and her voice shakes. and she says my aunt, her sister, is taking it badly, and i am not surprised, and then she says that my aunt is the one who found him, that it was in her house, and now i am surprised. now i am shaking too.

my dad comes home. she doesn’t bring up wanting to go back. maybe she is waiting. i wash my new sheets. the rugby game is starting in one room, and we all slowly migrate there, and we sit in separate chairs, and we watch, by which i mean we have devices in front of us that we sometimes look away from to observe the game. i’m still staring at that same google doc from this morning.

every so often, when i look up, i don’t watch the game. i watch my mother, and i watch how her face crumples, so many times that i cannot count. her whole mouth turns down, and her face shakes, and her eyes are so, so sad, and she is across the room from me, and all i can do is watch. she does not cry. she does not speak. but her face crumples, over and over.

my dad goes to shower. she goes to shower. i end up on a wikipedia deep dive of something even more horrible, even sadder, and close my laptop screen. i go to shower, because i almost had a breakdown over something that isn’t even a thing to have a reaction to on twitter, and i need to do something to douse the rising anxiety beneath my skin. so i go to shower, and i open tumblr, and i start typing. i don’t really know why i’m saying all this. i guess i’m still trying to douse the rising thing in my chest. the vaseline is wearing thin, and i don’t know if it’s all better out or in.

i guess it’s just a lot. and i don’t know where to put it down. and today is the first day. and we will do it all again tomorrow, and my mother will still be staring at the ceiling, and i will be watching her, and my dad will go for walks in the rain, and nobody will have anything big enough to say to make it better. i don’t know if anyone has told my sister.

[spaceorphan18]

My Season 3 Diatribe

for @wowbright who gave me a platform that I really didn't need but took anyway. ;)

The thing about Glee was that it started with a woman being fake pregnant for thirteen episodes and then ended the season with a baby being born while Bohemian Rhapsody blared in the background. It was weird and crazy and insane and just edgy enough that it was being talked about but not too niche that it couldn't find an audience. It also hit in the sweet spot of the Obama years when, as a nation, we could get on board with being a little different and a little crazy.

Ryan Murphy is both a genius and insane at the same time. I'm not really fond of him, and I think his tendency for going big sometimes obscures the nuances of really good storytelling. But he knows how to make a loud statement. And Glee was that loud statement.

And then it got big. Too big. It got more money, an awards, and the national stage, and then all eyes were on it. And Ryan Murphy got tired because that's also Ryan Murphy - being distracted by American Horror Story where he could be abstract in the way his brain really wanted to go. And so, new writers were brought in, but having all eyes on it meant you had to dial it back, and the new writers didn't jive the same way, nor could they really juggle all of the new network notes, ballooning cast, mandates of the Glee project and responsibility for now having to be a 'role model' for all the new outsiders who were hanging on.

The show was once about being an awkward kid in the 80s. And then it was forced into becoming a mouthpiece for the changing times of the 2010s.

And that... doesn't work.

The funniest thing is way back when... after I had stopped watching the show for a while, Season 3 is what brought me back. I did think, for a moment in time, that I liked it better than Seasons 1 or 2. I can't exactly tell you why. But The First Time is when I fell in love, and maybe you feel connected to something when you fall in love with it that you can't really discribe.

And I hated Season 4. and I was listening to a podcast of the day (Those of you who remember Lima Heights Adjacent?) and the group of people were talking about how, with all of its faults, Season 4 was at least NOT Season 3. And I was confused because at the time - I much preferred Season 3. Because my favorite couple was at least a couple back then -- because the cast was people I liked. Because the episodes were easy to digest and the structure of it, while being bland and predictable, fit into a nice, uniform way of storytelling.

And then time moved on, and I left my twenties, and digested the entire story (the second half, with all of its faults, does not get the recognition it deserves -- despite it falling apart at all times) and got a lot better at critical analysis and media analysis and being open to the ideas of others and just... shake my head.

When you look at the whole, Season 3 isn't AS bad as I make it seem sometimes. There's a good chunk of it, right in the middle, that is... more watchable than what's at the beginning and end.

There is, however, a laundry list of reasons why it's not good -- from questionable story telling choices to dulling the edge of a more biting comedy to just not being able to service all the characters it has in a satisfactory way. They botched Santana's story, which had been set up nicely in season 2. They threw in guest stars and special episodes to throw off that they didn't really know what to do with the story other than praise Rachel Berry and get those kids winning nationals and graduated. They took Kurt and completely neutered him in a way that went against everything they had built him up to be in the first two seasons. And so on and so on and so on.

But I suppose most egregiously -- they played it safe and it was no longer interesting.

I don't fully understand why people love it so much. But I will say - part of the reason might be why I liked it at the time. There's a huge influx of newer fans always coming to the show. And like Klaine, Brittana (which has a following unlike it ever did when it aired) remains together and having the most screen time in Season 3. All the original characters are around, and the story structure, if nothing else, is secure and sound and plays out exactly as its supposed to. Rachel Berry gets the crown, Will gets the teacher of the year, and they all win nationals - hell, even Sue gets a baby. Cue the music and roll credits.

To each their own.

Season 4 comes next with its awkward new characters and its break ups and its wild ups and downs. And then season 5 with its grief and queer in a way that's not accessible but fuck it who cares and season 6 that just wants to go back to the beginning and end it all like the weird creation it was when it started. And as complicated as all of that is -- it's not as digestible as Season 3. I like the afterwards better. But I understand that some people won't. It has, after all, taken me years to get to this level of appreciation.

Who knows how people are going to look at it in ten, fifteen, fifty years. I'm sure, as streaming shows continue to go on and on and on and nothing dies any more, it'll take on different tones and different meanings.

Maybe this time around - those people just need that comfort.

I can't tell you.

But it won't ever be my favorite. And that's fine. As always, ymmv.

[cecekeating]

My 614 Jordayla Analysis and Commentary

Hey guys! Back after the hiatus with a pretty good episode. I personally loved this episode and it actually exceeded my very low expectations. I am beginning to understand that in order to enjoy All American episodes, it is best to keep all your theories/expectations aside and watch each episode with little to no expectations. If your expectation gets met, hurray. Celebrate, tweet about it if you can and after celebrating begin to prepare to lower your expectations for the next episode. So far, this has worked for me.

So we got to see Jordayla in their married era! I am so pumped about this and not gonna lie, I was nervous because I wasn’t sure on what to expect. These two episodes, while created to close out Spencer’s arc, will also serve as a teaser on what season 7 might look like. I was nervous about the direction the writing will take when it comes to Jordayla as a married couple but so far, I am impressed. 

The Jordayla dynamic still felt the same but also felt different in this episode. Now I am gonna pause here and talk about the Jordayla chemistry. I can’t be the only one that has noticed how the chemistry of Jordayla shifts to match the current stage of their relationship. In season 4b, the chemistry of Jordayla as friends was different to the chemistry of Jordayla in season 5a when they were still in the honeymoon, puppy love stage. The chemistry shifted again in season 5b after the death of Billy. This period matured Jordayla’s connection and if you recall, they said I love you to each other for the first time during this period. The chemistry shift happened again this season in 6a. You can tell if you watch their scenes again that they were in the engagement/stepping off of the engagement bliss phase until episode 606. By 608, Jordayla’s chemistry shifted again and the connection matured deeper. They were still so cute but you could tell they have also grown.  Season 6b Jordayla was a mature Jordayla- still goofy and light but also pretty mature especially on Jordan’s end. Now in this episode we see the chemistry shift to an actual married couple chemistry and it actually feels like they have been married for over a year!! You can also see maturity too.  It doesn’t feel forced at all. Personally,  their dynamic has always given married couple vibes; it can be why married Jordayla lands so well for me but in other episodes, I could still tell that they were dating/engaged. This time, all I see is Mr and Mrs Baker! In most shows, once the ships get married, there is normally a wear off of the momentum for me. With Jordayla however, they still feel fresh, like there is more to explore with them and see as they grow as a married couple.

Whatever the hell NK in conjunction with MikeGreta laced Jordayla with, I don’t know but damn it's good!!!  Married Jordayla is such a SERVE and I for one, am here for it. 

This episode also shed a bit more light on how their dynamics would likely be going forward. The vibe is still light and rom com to me. I was anticipating the writing, maybe adding some extra tidbits because you know, this is All American but no, they have still stuck to the established Jordayla dynamic.  You can see Jordan and Layla are truly the same person and both are overthinkers too! I don’t know why some Jordaylas are surprised about Layla being an overthinker. Have you forgotten how she spiraled in 412 when she jumped into the conclusion that JP was dying? That woman is Jordan Baker 2.0, she is just more subtle with her chaos. 

I did feel Layla had a lighter, somewhat goofy vibe to her and Jordan was a bit more serious. Sort of showing us that they have rubbed off on each other. I actually expected this for a couple that has been married for over a year. You can also see how they care for each other so much- Layla, being worried about his health and checking if he has a fever. But also how annoyed they can get with each other - I was cracking up at Layla saying that she would kill Jordan for the entertainment choice at the party and a few minutes later suggesting that they should have actually gotten the strippers instead of the magicians.

I was also here for Asher being a hardcore Jordayla stan this episode. That man was determined to continue his interrupted best man speech this episode. I love how Asher said Jordayla are the same person and as long as they have each other, they are going to be fine. 

Asher told no lies because this is a core Jordayla dynamic that has been established in the writing. They belong to each other and they are all each other needs. This is why difficult moments bond them. It is why anytime they have angst, it makes them much closer and it takes them one step forward. We saw this after their first fight, after the death of Billy and when Layla went through it with her mental health battle and recovery. In all these tough moments, Jordayla has only grown closer and chosen to love each other deeply. I see this continue to be their dynamic going forward. 

So we officially begin married Jordayla diaries with Jordan making Layla breakfast. Jordan taking care of Layla in this manner has been my head canon for a married Jordayla since season 5a. It is totally on brand for Jordan to cook for his wife and I am so glad Micah and Carrie were on beat! Now let’s talk about this housing situation. I was very surprised when I found out they still live at the beach house. I would have loved an explanation from the writing as to what happened to the place they found originally in 612. Was it initially rented and they are now in the beach house temporarily now that they want to buy a home? Or is the place they found in 612 the same place they have been trying to buy for 15 months? I just needed something to tie 612 to this episode.

Anyway, Layla announces that they are actually close to buying their own home. You can see how unsure they are about owning a home, indicating there is still something about the house. Jordan then switches the topic to him getting a job by the time they move into the house.

[ygsunflower]

Yes! Your last post *chefs kiss* from the start of this show I was wondering how this propaganda of the military would play out through the show because when you’re portraying people in the military of coarse it will be full of pro-American and pro-military sense. But I love how Cruz really does break down through the episodes and as sad as the finale was I am obsessed with the fact that she’s finally seen right through this Mission of the military and how she’s against it at the end of the day

If the show’s not literally named Special Ops: Lioness, it’ll be so interesting to follow Cruz and explore what’s next for her… Will she stay in the military? Will she go back to the Marines? Will she try to find Aaliyah on her own? Will she stay in the Lioness ops so she might get a chance to work on ops that could lead her to Aaliyah? Just how and what will happen to this poor woman now that her whole world is shattered and she’s lost in the darkness?

I do think Cruz is someone with a morale, and this whole experience also made her realized that for her, the ends don’t always justify the means: using Aaliyah to kill the dirty oil guy/terrorist; joining the military to get her life a second chance. There needs to be a line drawn to when the ends can justify the means. And maybe she’s just discovering that.

A side note: In my imagination for their future story, Aaliyah is now left with her dad’s business as her brothers are useless and her fiancé who her dad deemed as a heir is dead. She’s overwhelmed by everything but at the same time there’re also threats that required her to run and hide: her dad’s old partners and his enemies are now hunting her for the business. Cruz, on the other hand, may or may not left the military completely, but she’s definitely out of Joe’s lioness ops. She still keeps contacts with the team though, and this is how she heard about Aaliyah being chased by the “bad” and “good” parties. [Good and bad are really no difference in this case because they both are after the access to Aaliyah’s dad’s middle-eastern oil connections… The so called “bad” ones refer to her dad’s friends/enemies and the “good” ones are the CIA and other western governments. ] Once Cruz learns about this, she goes rogue trying to make connections with Aaliyah. And during this journey, she gets to explore where the lines between the means and the ends are drawn for her. While Cruz and Aaliyah still have feelings for each other, so much have happened since, and their relationship now is more complex than ever. Will they work together to stay alive? Can they trust each other? Who else or which side can they trust more?

I wish they could explore more on this storyline, but again, the show’s called Special Ops: Lioness, so if Cruz’s no longer a lioness, she’s not gonna be in s2. Also, let’s be honest, even with this show title, they still focused so much on Neil and the daughter’s drama this season. Sometimes it feels like that this part of the plot is more well-written than the supposedly main Lioness plot. So, I doubt going forward this show will ever give the sapphics the type of main plot I want to see. But you never know, we might get a surprise once in a blue moon, and no matter what, I still have my wild imaginations 😂 Tbh, as much as Aaliyah x Cruz and their characters are so interesting to me, the overall plot of the show is a bit weak. Things are too predictable and almost too one-dimensional for my liking. Whatever happens in s2, I hope they have better writing/plotting of the story. Show the audience the complexity and nuances more!

[safetycar-restart]

🎾 anon back with another angsty logan idea, so we haven’t discussed logan in the past! ds au but do you think back in formula 3 right before he met his dom now for a brief period of time he just had a horrible dom, didn’t really pay attention to what logan really needed and wanted so logan being so young just went along with it. he kind of like pierre just thought that it was the only was to do things so when he finally has a dom that is good for him and loves him he acts out a lot at first trying to set boundaries and bc his dom knows that they don’t really want to punish him hard. but that’s what he wants!!! he ends up getting really upset and asking his dom with tears rolling down his face “why won’t you punish!! ive been a bad boy!” and his dom ends up having to punish him but like lightly (like you make him sit in a corner or lightly spank him) bc if you do it hard it makes him even more upset thinking that he’s a really really bad boy :(. feel free to combine my last anon that i sent about logan in the beginning. have great rest of your night, toodles! 🎾

You know somehow even though I asked for both Logan and for angst, I never considered that I might get sent Logan angst… this is my own fault. And I am obsessed.

I definitely agree that Logan would start out F3 with a different dom, maybe a team Dom? It’s his first season in F3 and being an American, he already feels like an outsider so he doesn’t dare say anything about not getting along with his Dom.

I think that Logan LOVES talking to his Dom during scenes so much? And he doesn’t do it to be bratty, really he doesn’t, he just loves communicating like that? He wants to be able to talk and joke around and ask for a kiss. He’ll always listen to instructions and he doesn’t mean to be disrespectful. He just wants to connect!!!

His team Dom hates that about him. He makes Logan stay quiet the entire time, punishes him so harshly when he breaks the rules.

I also think that Logan responds MUCH better to positive reinforcement than to punishment? (Unlike Charles or max, who actually both respond a lot better to punishment, though in very different forms of course) his Dom doesn’t care about that though. He’s always being punished.

What Logan really needs is to be praised for his good behaviour far more than he needs to be punished for his bad behaviour. Especially because he so desperately wants to be good for his dom. A punishment ruins his mental health for DAYS afterwards. He feels like the worst sub ever, and he's so lost and shakey for so long afterwards.

But then he meets you, and suddenly he's so shocked. Now he has a dom that actually listens to him and wants to figure out how best to dom him? I actually think that maybe he has no idea what to say?

You come prepared with a list of questions and common kinks and sit down with him to get all the info you need. But Logan, who has never had a dom actually listen to him before, has no idea what to say? You ask him what his favourite kinks are, what his hard limits are, etc and he just... he doesn't know? He has no idea what to say. He's never been expected to have these opinions before.

So naturally, when faced with someone who is giving him everything he's ever wanted, he pushes back because he doesn't believe that it's actually true. He can't manage to let himself actually enjoy this because he's sure that it's going to go away.

You start off with very simple rules for him, because you've seen how upset Logan gets when he thinks you might be upset with him. You don't want any harsh punishments until you understand him better, because he seems to react REALLY intensely whenever he suspects you might be unhappy with him.

Maybe you two have had a really good week when he purposefully breaks rules? He had a training week and you stayed the entire time, praising him for doing well and scening with him every night and maybe he even comes to you at night and asks to spend the night? He spends the night with you, cuddling in bed and he's so so happy but then he wakes the next morning and he's mortified at how he acted.

He's laying awake in bed while you're still asleep, thinking about how his old dom would have hated this, would have punished him for coming to their room that night.

And he just... he has to break some rules. He has to know, and he feels like he deserves it.

Your heart breaks when he disobeys, because you know you'll have to punish him now. There's no way for you to work around it.

Logan is shaking before you've even said what the punishment is, and you really want to call it off but you can see he needs this. You just spank him lightly, but he's sobbing because he's been a bad boy. You're good to him and then he disobeys? There's no way he deserves you.

You end up spanking him three times and then pulling him into your arms, praising him for taking his punishment and thanking him for being a good boy for you. He doesn't seem to believe you, but he's so desperate for comfort and praise that he takes it without complaint.

And the funny thing is, he got punished so much more often and so much worse by his old dom and he never reacted that way. But then again, he never reacted so strongly to the little praise he got from his old dom either.

To be honest, you're glad it happened, because it shows you that with you, Logan is a soft sub. He needs to be praised and helped and punishment should be avoided at all times.

[mysteryloversbookshelf]

The Afterparty: Sebastian

This week’s episode was a lot of fun and my favorite so far of the season. A lot of ground was covered and new theories have emerged so this will be another long post. Starting off with the “Not ___” clue (shoutout to the subreddit for getting it so quickly omg). SPOILERS AHEAD

“Not By Camels Milk”

I don’t know what to make of this clue because when I looked up kumis/koumis, the results said that it’s milk from a donkey and not camel’s milk as stated by Ulysses in the first episode. I doubt the writers would make a mistake while researching it so it’s hard to say what this means. Are they trying to insinuate that Ulysses is a fraud? Isabel made an offhand comment about him always boasting about his travels. But let’s say that it is koumis: Edgar refused to drink it at the rehearsal dinner and after Aniq spit it out I assumed that there wouldn’t be much if any left. Maybe later on in the evening Edgar and Ulysses come to some sort of agreement that was sealed with Edgar taking a sip of the koumis. Ulysses is kind of going higher up on my list now because this is starting to get suspicious.

Confirmed Theories

As always Reddit was on it because four long-standing theories were confirmed:

•The wedding staff were in on the heist

•Sebastian kidnapped Roxana to open the safe

•Sebastian was the naked man

•SEC4 meant Edgar, Sebastian, Connect 4 and was a record of their scores

A lot of people suspected Sebastian was secretly Australian instead of British so the reveal he’s actually American is so funny to me 😂 And omg at Yasper’s brief appearance! That was a perfect little tie in to last season. Also I knew Travis wasn’t lying about being knocked out! It just didn’t seem like something he’d lie about. After watching the episode twice these are my thoughts:

Theory 1

I 100% think that Edgar calling everyone devils in that rant was because he knew their secrets and now I see that he himself is a devil as well it will be interesting to see how this will all tie in at the end. When Isabel told Sebastian to tell Edgar she remembered everything it gave me a feeling that Edgar might have actually been the one to poison his father. And as I write this I’m starting to wonder if maybe Edgar tried to poison someone that evening and then accidentally poisoned himself instead. If he’s killed someone before he probably got too cocky this time and accidentally offed himself instead. There’s a theory that Edgar has been drugging Isabel and tbh I’m starting to believe it because if he did kill his father, that would be a good way of keeping his mother in line and preventing her from telling the truth. He and Hannah were really close up to a point so I can’t help but wonder if they did it together since it’s Hannah’s garden that has all the poisonous plants. It’s just a vibe I’m getting but we’ll see.

Theory 2

Speaking of Hannah, I still think Grace killed Edgar and Hannah is covering for her. Like I’ve said before Grace is putting on this damsel in distress act and I wouldn’t be surprised if she were manipulating Hannah because she knows she’s in love with her. If neither are the murderer I think they planned to run away together after the wedding night with Edgar’s money since there was no prenup signed.

My current three suspects:

Grace because of all the lying and her playing Zoë like a fiddle the whole time ; Whether or not she’s also taking advantage of Hannah is unknown

Ulysses because I’m starting to think he’s a liar and after Edgar’s encounter with Vivian, she may have told him. That’s a pretty big motive because of how big a family secret it is (unconfirmed theory that he’s the father of Zoë and/or Grace)

Edgar as an accidental death caused by himself since he’s been shown to have that dark side and he already got bested by Sebastian with the card so he’s clearly not as intelligent as he thinks he is

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 2/21/2023

despite two sections clocking in at one sentence each, i had a lot of thoughts about a video game so this one is the normal creeping-up-on-2k-words length

listening

brian david gilbert's rgss must be presented without comment.

-

reading

earlier last year a regional gas station chain offered a whopping twenty five cents off per gallon. many terms and conditions applied. the one that made me scoff and delete the app right there at the pump was that location data had to be on at all times. not just when you were using the app or in a geofenced area around the gas stations, all the time. i hate people knowing where i am. i despise my data being sold. do not advertise to me. fuck off.

last year this made me briefly wonder about the loyalty programs i have with the regional supermarket chains, big y and stop & shop. i don't even want to think about whatever instacart was collecting on me much earlier in the pandemic. unfortunately i can choose not to drive as much but i really should not eat less and i do love a loss leader sale. and then i had to move again and forgot about it. earlier this week my favorite data scientists at The Markup dropped a...upsetting article on kroger's data practices, which can include in-store tracking, biometrics, facial recognition, and when shopping on kroger.com: "Third-party trackers send your product page views, search terms, and items that you have added to your shopping cart to Meta, Google, Bing, Pinterest, and Snapchat." did you know they have their own spinoff data company? for why, you might ask?

Experts told The Markup that companies that sell products in grocery stores don’t have much visibility into what happens after their items are placed on shelves. These brands want granular shopping data that only supermarkets have in order to gauge the success of the brands’ products. In recent years, this data has become harder to come by and therefore more valuable. 

i try very hard not to be be doom and gloom about tech bc reporting already tends toward the hysteric, and usually there is stuff i can do or a different option i can take to avoid a package of my data being sold and linked to other packages of my data. however, it is unrealistic to leave my phone at home and pay with cash, and financially i can't afford to opt out of these loyalty programs. sucks! sucks real bad! The Markup articles are pretty good at making the american senate take notice, but they are very slow and do not always fully understand tech abuses, bc their average age is sixty fuckin three.

-

watching

im ticking along in adventure time, in the middle of season six, the last real long season before we get down to twenty and fourteen episode seasons. there has been an amusing string of episodes where finn and jake aren't present or are only present briefly. this show will wander off to tell the most heartrending story about a character you will never see again, and this episode will stick with you for ten years.

ive also been looking at the fandom (i know) wiki page for each episode, bc why not, and it is a very funny fan wiki. a great deal of emphasis on animation errors with the caveats that maybe the miscolored arm of a princess in episode whatever actually means there's two princesses of that kingdom and we're only seeing the second one for the first time now. whenever the show references a classic work, the note in the wiki has the tone of "ugh this weird old thing why is my show making a joke about it". if an episode won an emmy (this show won fifteen emmys btw) it is usually the very last thing on the page bc that's not lore or errors or connections to other episodes why should you care??? either a very specific type of guy or a bunch of young teens wrote this. probably a bunch of young teens that grew up to be a very specific type of guy.

-

playing

thank u for all ur open world rpg recs, i think horizon zero dawn is the closest thing to what i want but i will probably end up playing Prey first (which has exactly one of the many qualities i want and is not open world even a little bit) bc it is a game i actually own. but im here to say i know im having a depressive episode when im listening to a lot of mother mother and playing f/allout 4. anyway we're back at it again in far harbor, which at least contains the most interesting storytelling in the game. can we all say hello to andre, bethesda's eleventh first gay character?

coming up on this drive-in theater with an incongruous neon heart looming out of the mist and spooky music plus screams from the horror movie trailer that's been playing on loop since the bombs dropped is SO fun. nothing on the mainland is quite this atmospheric. the fog really does heighten the fun of exploration. i know dead money did it first and better but this is less dire than dead money. usually.

also i forgot they're showing a western staring Legally Not Lee van Cleef if u switch the reels. this is not even getting into the delightful enemy encounter at this location bc i have a different location i want to talk about

GOD the MS Azalea (the one screenshot that isn't mine and is from the wiki) is so fun to run around. a rusted out, ripped in half cargo ship with five different sections (guardpost, top of ship, shipping container apartments on top of ship, inner sheltered harbor within ship and floating kitchen/pool table parlor, floating bar and clinic lashed to ship entered by swimming or elevator down from the top of the ship, sheltered harbor between two halves of the broken ship. each of these sections uses vertical space in interesting ways bc the ship is so fucking big. there is a straight up House underneath that boat. and everything feels very lived in, there's clutter and signs of life everywhere. these guys are just vibing with their little stores and their little apartments. a smarter game or a game with more time would have leaned into "you were sent to kill these guys by the townsfolk bc they felt threatened by an unaffiliated settlement" but alas. the trappers on the boat are just xp.

it is very funny that the lighthouse on the south end of the island refuses to load in properly, no matter where i am

this dlc, more than anything else in the game, actually does feel like my choices matter. i do the missions for the mariner and the barricade physically changes. i do enough fairly complex quest chains for enough of the town and they decide they like me enough to go build settlements. seeing the settlement fog condensers off in the distance from across the island feels very different from the mainland, where generally your settlement's buildings don't pop in until you're pretty fucking close.

i really don't care about how big the map is, i want the main game to be this dense and this bold in telling a stories, start to finish, that feel very interconnected and grounded to its location. i am feeling a little conflicted with my playtime, bc i gotta lotta fucking bones to pick with this game, but i am having fun with this dlc. part of it is "what if fallout/the rest of the game was good" and part of it is the depression making any scrap of delight feel weird. so it goes. february will end eventually.

-

making

did my taxes.