#actually remove might i do label myself too much

[pvppy-flesh]

DIY project nr2, this hoodie im turning into a jacket! Added a few patches and trying to think of more shit i can add to this mf

[scrollll]

Hi there :) I'm sorry to bother you but this is very important because you are now the chosen Ace who can give me their perspective on Zouey. I have adamantly argued that Zouey can be read as being on the ace spectrum but some of my friends say that's not realistic. My arguments: - He gets aroused by things that are removed from reality (hentai) and in moments where there is no risk of actually having to be sexual with the person (Teena as a model) but he struggles to enjoy the "real" thing -> sounds very aegosexual to me. - He says sex is for everybody but him. Later he changes that to "sex might be for him if it's combined with love" -> that could either hint at him being demi or it could mean that he is willing to have sex out of love for his significant other (as many aces do). - He can give pleasure and touch others but doesn't like to be touched -> this feels ace to me but I can't really explain why - Even when he touches Teena, he often struggles with things that are "more" sexual (like touching genitals) -> could be that he feels strong sensual attraction towards Teena. He also seems to distance himself from the reality of the situation by escaping into the fantasy of hentai, another thing many aces do because the reality of sex actually turns them off. - He thinks he wants to have penetrative sex with Teena but then doesn't enjoy it

Their strongest counter argument is that Zouey gave Teena a bj in episode 1. Now, I see their point. And I don't think Zouey being acespec is the only valid interpretation of his character. I like some of the other interpretations just as much. BUT I hate when people tell me that he can't possibly be on the ace spec. We have so little representation as it is and telling us that a character who speaks to us actually can't be like us feels shitty. I'm ace myself but my experience with sex is quite different from his. From your post it seems that you can relate to Zouey a lot. So if you feel comfortable sharing your perspective, I'm sure that would be valuable not only for me but for other aces as well. Thanks for making that post! (Also that Chinese definition of asexuality is so badass xD)

For starters, my sweet love anon, thank you so much for this ask and a big warm hug through the internet for you if you feel comfortable with it :D

And it's no bother, I like talking and writing XD

And regarding Zouey... welp, you asked, so I will deliver but be prepared for a longer essay XD

Let's start with the basics for those who are not quite familiar with asexuality: asexuality is a broad spectrum with many different nuances, gray areas and so on.

In the asexual community (as well as in some others), a distinction is made between romantic and sexual orientation. It is therefore possible to love a person romantically and still have no or only very limited sexual desires.

So: Asexual people fall in love with others, they want romantic or platonic relationships, but mostly without feeling sexual attraction for them.

Asexuality doesn't always mean that a person doesn't have sex. Yep, it may sound strange at first, but it's true. Many asexual people satisfy themselves or have sex, e.g. because they want to have a child, but nothing more. Some asexuals who are sex-positive or sex-neutral, i.e. who are not repulsed by the idea of sexual activity or are simply indifferent to it, have had sex or participate in sexual acts.

So an asexual who has sex will not suddenly become homosexual or straight, they can still feel like they belong to the ace spectrum. There are a variety of labels that break it all down and all fall under the ace umbrella, like placiosexual, lithosexual, cupiosexual, but to make a long story short, for many of us it's just too complicated :) So many just prefer "Ace-spec" or Ace-spectrum, but that's a personal preference of myself and a few ace friends of mine. It's nice to know the labels, but usually just too complicated for everyday use XD

And I also rank Zouey's blowjob from EP.1 on the ace spectrum. You very aptly mentioned the point that Zouey gets aroused by things that aren't part of reality. I think in EP 1 the blowjob went in exactly that direction.

For Zouey, as we also find out later, Teena is first of all a beautiful work of art himself. In his imagination, he sees him more as a statue that he can touch than as a person. Only when he runs into the bathroom does this bubble burst for the moment.

Zouey seems very overwhelmed to me, which I can understand, because he normally only experiences sexual stimulation from two-dimensional figures. Teena, however, crosses the line. For Zouey, he is at first only a two-dimensional figure on his easel, but at the same time he exists in real life. Zouey, who only knows sexual attraction based on hentai or pictures, is now confused as to whether this means that he finds Teena or only Teena's picture (similar to Jump's) attractive.

At this moment, however, I don't think he really got anything like sexual arousal or desire from Teena himself. It was, as I said, initially only Teena's picture that aroused him, the confusion comes because Teena runs after him and Zouey is undecided whether he should treat him like an aesthetic art object or like a human being and whether he would still find him attractive as a human being at all.

Zouey decides in favor of safety. He wants to return to the art room, back in front of his canvas and the distance he knows and feels comfortable with.

The blowjob is initiated by Teena putting Zouey's hand on his crotch, making it clear that he is not just interested in a conversation and certainly doesn't want to go back to painting.

And Zouey knows that.

In a household like that with Captain and Porsche, it's pretty much impossible to avoid the topic of sex permanently. As an ace, we may not be interested in sex, but especially if you have friends who are very sexually active, you get a lot of information.

And you can't tell me that the baddie bunch hasn't talked about blowjob tactics and the like at least thirty times. Especially because really none of them can shut up and Captain and Porsche are very keen to get Zouey deflowered soon.

So Zouey presumably knows the stories from his friends and knows on a logical level what it means when someone practically hands you their dick on a silver platter. And he has the theoretical knowledge, so why not try it out, especially with an aesthetically pleasing man like Teena, who is a painting come to life for him from an artistic perspective?

What I'm trying to say is that I don't think it was a real sexual attraction at that moment, but rather an action-reaction. Of course, attraction can also play a role, but as I said, it doesn't have to be sexual, it can have an aesthetic origin, especially with Zouey's artistic mind.

Sex-indifferent aces are not repulsed by all sexual acts, so if our partner desires certain types of satisfaction and we feel like doing it, why not?

As the episode progresses, Zouey gives Teena another blowjob, but still dear people, Bj does not equal sex. Zouey still clearly shows his rejection of penetrative sex, or sexual acts that involve him. And that's pretty typical of us aces, or at least the ones I've met on the spectrum so far.

It feels okay to read about or watch sexual acts (mostly for aesthetic reasons rather than masturbation, but I don't want to generalize) because in 3rd perspective you are detached from the action and can look at it objectively.

You're not involved and that's nice.

By satisfying Teena, Zouey can still keep himself uninvolved. A nice term under the Ace umbrella for this is: Placiosexual (meaning a person that is okay and comfortable with performing sexual actions onto others but is uncomfortable having sexual acts performed onto them) This can still have limits and gradations, such as no penetrative sex in general or sexual acts under certain conditions.

As I said, also with the further development in the series and the way he deals with Teena and sexual innuendos, Zouey just feels very ace-coded to me. He moves on the spectrum, again, labels are nothing solid, but the vibes and the whole thing… Yeah, he is a fellow oft he ace for me XD

I wouldn't be surprised if he turns into Demi or Gray-ace, but his general view of sex and the way he's starting to expand his comfort zone bit by bit is very familiar to me from myself and my adventures on the asexual spectrum XD

However you interpret Zouey, for me he's chilling on the ace-spec XD It's my personal interpretation of him and I'll stick with that for now. I don't want to badmouth anyone's idea of Zouey, in the end he's a fictional character that we can interpret differently :)

But it feels very nice to have someone who thinks similarly :D

So, before this gets way too long, I'll make a cut here, but feel free to write me or send an ask if I should clarify anything :)

[my-gender-is-void]

So, lately I've been thinking about my future, everyone around me is trying to get a grant for some research project either as a PhD student, an internship or a master's degree and I've been thinking, since my friend got his name changed to avoid further bureaucratic bs in the future, that I can't keep progressing sin my career without changing my legal name because I absolutely refuse to get another degree with my dead name but in order to that I need to either move out first or tell my parents and in moments like this I really wish I was a binary trans person because that would be easier to explain and for them to understand but non binary is simply "too much" and "too ridiculous" for them and then "oh, but how are we going to explain that to your sisters?" Well, they'll probably understand it better than you since they haven't been spoonfed right-wing hatred just yet and basically I raised them. And I just know from experience they'll start saying shit about me being confused and "brainwashed by left-wing communism" as If I'm not 23 years old and know myself better than anyone. For fucks sake, they can't even respect my friend's name and pronouns and they've known for like 2 years.

Also, I'm really angry at how little progress we've actually made regarding trans rights in my country, just short of this year we finally got the right to self-determination of gender but it is still a very lengthy process and you need to be 16 at the very least, it has been mocked, there's been a surge of people against trans rights as well, saying people would take advantage of it to go r*pe women in the women's bathroom, some parties want to remove it and, obviously, it only applies to binary trans people. Anyone can change just their name but the "gender" market can only be changed to "Man" or "woman" so, non-binary and gender queer people are out of the question. We're being forced to either stick to the marker they assigned us or change it to another that is still not representative if our identity. Sure you could say I'm lucky because I'm comfortable with "he/him" pronouns in Spanish or that an afab enby is lucky if they're comfortable with "she/her" pronouns but we're still neither women nor men so why are those the only options still. Society keeps saying it's evolving and that you should be grateful for these new rights and laws, and sure I'm happy for my binary trans siblings, but what about the rest of us, why are we still being forced into two boxes. And they'll tell me "just wait, you'll get your rights as well" it took decades to get these rights, I don't think I can keep waiting for those rights to come because the way things are going they might as well never come since they're vouching for the elimination of these new rights the trans community just got a tear ago. I can't keep waiting, it's not fair, why do I have to lie in a consult with an endocrinologist from the "transsexual" area of the hospital and say I'm a guy so I can get hormones, that's not fair. Why is society so fucking obsessed with shoving people into boxes they made up and then get angry that we have our own "labels" to identify and share our experiences. I'm so over it.

[youngtomhardy]

LoveSexDrugs (2023) canvas shot by Isaac Luna

I grew up online. I really enjoy talking to fans, making genuine connections/friendships with them, over sharing. I even like making content as much as TikTok drives me up the wall. Recently I’ve started searching my name a little more frequently since I started gaining more attention. It’s very exciting. Listeners on Spotify grow every day, even with no editorial support. With that, of course, comes more negativity. I’m sensitive, but I’ve been through a lot, I’ve got thick skin. I don’t take hate to heart. I’m extremely confident in my music, branding, looks, etc. I feel I’ve gotten it all figured out and will only grow from here.

What I do take to heart is constructive criticism, even if it’s only meant to be criticism. Recently i’ve seen words circulating about the way I present myself on socials. I think maybe I put myself out there too much sometimes. Maybe I’m just not at a point where I need to try so hard, but nothing has ever come easy to me in this business so it’s my default. I realize my content might be attention grabby, may rub people the wrong way even and I stand by my decisions 99% of the time. But I have to draw a line in the sand when it starts to taint the listeners experience.

So I plan to be a little more removed in the future. Finally realize that my music actually stands on its own for the first time since I started this. I’ve grown more now posting infrequently on tiktok. Those advice tiktoks are full of shit btw, nobody wants to see you post 6 times a day. Like. Be serious 🤦‍♂️ but I just want things so bad sometimes that i’ll try anything. The pressure to blow up is so insane once you’ve met a new label and have the ceos hovering you for that success. None of my critics understand that… but they’re also not entirely wrong and that’s the part that sticks with me. I watched ethel cain go from like 200k to over 1M on spotify. All she had to do was be herself. I guess that’s my lesson here… why am I trying to show a version of myself that I’m not proud of? I refuse to do that anymore.

[sandandlightning]

My Recent Personal Spiritual Journey

When I started this blog, I had strongly identified as a Kemetic pagan for some years. Before that an eclectic pagan, and before that just sort of generically ‘pagan’ as I was first trying to sort religion out for myself. Regardless of the label, Set had been the god I was closest to since I was a school kid.

I was in a good place spiritually when I was posting. In a way my attempts to share my knowledge was an offering in and of itself. I wanted to help others like me, especially since I always felt isolated as a solitary practitioner. I originally fell off due to things just getting busy and my health being what it is, but I found it even harder to pick up the pieces here after having a crisis of faith.

I still consider myself under the pagan umbrella, I don't think I will ever not fall under it, but I’ve certainly returned to my eclectic roots. 

The harsh reality is that pagan spaces can become extremely cliquey. Most of us are neurodivergent, disabled, queer- societal outcasts in one form or another. I think a great number of us have a strong desire to find a community where we feel like we belong. It's a natural human instinct, we're pack animals at heart. The stakes are so high trying to find safe religious spaces, not only is there all of this baseline social anxiety, but you are interacting with something that is so personal and vulnerable.

Obviously, no religion is without problematic radicals. Neo Nazis and racists trying to coopt heathenry is a well known problem. And maybe, compared to that, things I have experienced aren't nearly as harrowing. (Not that, unfortunately, I have never run into those kind of so-called heathens). Paganism, especially any reconstructionist avenues, is wrought with gatekeeping and elitism. And that's not even considering the fact you have a few, marginalized, under funded individuals trying to hold together groups with rubber bands and duck tape, doing their best but unable to maintain spaces as much as they want or know is necessary.

Particularly my experiences with kemetic spaces has been… unpleasant. And worst of all, this oftentimes has to do with my closeness to Set. It is very strange in all honesty, because unlike most who have experienced their religious trauma at the hands of a conservative Christian family, mine has always been at the hands of others in the community. Which, of course, to those who have had to deal with the worst of Christianity my heart goes out to you, my personal experiences in no way are meant to belittle your own. But I have to address it, because there is this particularly unique hell of getting kicked out of the space for people with Unusual Beliefs for having a belief that is Too Unusual.

Which was always frustrating, because I did not think my own beliefs were particularly radical. I simply subscribed to old kingdom and upper Egyptian theological structure. But those aren't the popular ones, and I have outright had kemetic spaces react to my veneration of Set with the same vehemence a conservative Christian grandmother might to their goth grandchild wearing something ‘satanic’. 

And sadly, those were actually the easier cases to deal with. Because while I didn't agree, at least everyone was up front about not agreeing, and about how they viewed things. I could remove myself quickly and move on. But a lot of places Want To Be Cool but Still Get Weird Around Set. And even if they try to be nice, there is a lot of internalized demonization of my deity around others that becomes hard to navigate. It's the micro transgressions and off handed comments. I am all for irreverence, I worship a trickster, but sometimes there are lines that get crossed and it's so hard to vocalize why things became uncomfortable. I don't know how to explain why jizz in salad jokes are funny but brother murdering jokes aren't. And sometimes when I try to express discomfort I just get met with a passive aggressive, ‘well that's what happens when you follow a problematic god, get used to it.’ It's incredibly alienating.

Some people have been so nice. Even if they don't agree with something, they try their hardest. They are clear and say, ‘hey, we're sorry we don't exactly agree or follow the same things, we won't be able to change or accommodate certain things, but we honestly are not bothered by your personal beliefs and you are welcome to stay.’ but for everyone 1 of them there are 5 in the same coven or community who are in fact bothered and hide it poorly, only even trying because they know it's Not Allowed to be exclusionary. And those people become an insurmountable hurdle to reach the kind ones. Or, in the end, even if someone is being kind and accepting, there is still that underlying feeling of still not quite feeling like you belong or fit in. Which isn't their fault, and makes me feel like I'm being petty. In the end I’d have to give up one way or another.

Some people have gatekept in exceptionally nitpicky ways. I remember following some persons blog who rather loudly venerated Wsir and Set side by side. They dealt with constant clap back from a lot of people I had to deal with too. People would just tell me that Aset and Wsir simply Would Not Like Me for my relation with Set. That narrative isn't really how I experience polytheism at all, nor in many cases is it necessarily ‘historically accurate’ (tho it is on occasion, and those people cite those instances feverently). It is the same feeling as having a radical, extremist Christian tell you Jesus hates you for being gay despite the fact that realistically that's not in the Bible. 

That's why, despite feeling close to many Egyptian ideas, and in a world with many deities the ones I felt closest to hailed from Kemet, attempts to double down on kemetic practice always backfired spectacularly. My interpretations of Ma'at I would find to be different from others in a way that, frankly, made me feel some people were wholly unethical. Religion is a foundation of morality for many, and so when I look for my fellows for assurance that, in this abrahamic ruled world, I am not a bad person as I am often condemned, it is so, so damaging when those who I thought were my peers turn around and say that I am a radical, and my ideation is not valid. That I am wrong, not just factually, but morally.

My ties to old gods are because I do not particularly understand or endorse moral trends that have been propagated by abrahamic dominance and born of a corrupt world struggling through late stage capitalism. Some or more generically accepted began ideas, like sex positivity and queer friendliness. I find purity culture particularly loathsome. I live off the land, and don't think enough people understand or appreciate the circle of life, have looked their dinner in the eyes while it still breathes, understand that their hands are not necessarily clean just because they are an end consumer who did not personally kill something, or that slaughtering an animal for food is something that can be done respectfully and should be acknowledged. The latter bits are obviously where I start to lose people. A lot of new age folk enforce a buddhist based pacifist nature which I find entirely commendable on its own, but struggle to interact with when it is projected onto unlike pantheons. I suppose in a way, it comes down to being frustrated that many are allowed to cherry pick ideas from different cultures to form their beliefs, but if I am not picking the ‘popular’ ones I am simply wrong.

As an eclectic I have never had a problem with people picking and choosing ideas and themes that resonate with them, mind you. It's something that has more historical basis than how most reconstructionists try to section things off. But the hypocrisy and double standard are frustrating nonetheless.

One particular complaint I would get from kemetic circles more often or not was that I was a leftist, or left hand path pagan, and they weren't comfortable with that. I have known about left hand path worship since I was a child, but I never particularly thought the label fit me. The core left hand path idea in satanic pursuit is ‘worship of the self’, which was not how I practiced. I was wholly theistic. But Set has long since been identified with the satanic church, and many people less familiar with leftist ideals look at Set and Loki and every other ‘problematic’ or demonized deity and throw their worshipers into that category by default.

It was particularly frustrating when this became twisted into an implication that such practice made me selfish or self serving in a problematic way, which frankly, is just insulting to true Satanists who I have always found to be lovely people. I am not even sure I can correctly vocalize this phenomena sufficiently. I suppose one common issue is the implications that by trying to share my take on something, people would get defensive and push back like I was trying to change their minds. Even if they are the one who asked the question, if the answer is too far from what is expected they become uncomfortable. I suppose it's because, like me, they are looking for that assurance and sense of community. Not everyone who has done this is doing so maliciously and I realize, but it still hurts for everyone involved and is frustrating, hense an inclination to simply remove myself and find a place I do fit in, as lonely as the journey has been.

But after the last failed attempt to integrate with a Kemetic ground ended in disaster I finally said fuck it. If everyone is going to say I am a left hand path pagan, let's actually look into flavors of satanism, let's try it. At least the people there won't be so frustrating to be around.

It was a particularly harrowing experience, that last Kemetic group. I had turned to my religion after a lot of traumatic, unfortunate events in my life. I had lost most of my support system, finally thrown aside by the last of my family for being trans, my health was getting worse, the only thing I could do was pray. And everyone was inviting at first, but it was all so… performative. That ‘i have to be nice to you because I want to be seen as nice' behavior, when it was obvious people didn't agree fundamentally with many things I had to say. There was a lot of petty mean girls drama that didn't even have to do with religion, honestly, but the lack of morality from people who supposedly have the same foundation as you is maddening. They were ‘pro Set’ but they still practiced osirian mysteries and became Very Weird About Him around those times. It was a mix of people trying earnestly to be inclusive and people being annoyed at my presence. I don't subscribe to be slaying of Wsir myth, and was assured that was ‘okay’, and that other people agreed, but it is still hard when I can't seem to find those people, and when it was time to talk about those myths my value as a member of a community was just left by the wayside. I don't by any means expect them to stop participating in festivals that are important by any means, but given how large the group was, given how many supposed other Sethian practitioners there were, it was hard not to feel forgotten and ignored. A ‘and if you don't participate in this, why don’t you have fun with this other thing’, a quick shout out, a simple acknowledgement that not everyone participated in those festivals would have done a lot. Trying to ‘be the change I wanted to see’ did not end well, people did not take kindly to me trying to reach out to and organize things for the other Sethians. There wasn't much winning.

I came to feel uncomfortable around Aset, Heru, and Wsir. Which was particularly frustrating, because I had been close to Heru in the past. But the doubling down on certain narratives, the hive mind interpretation of how those gods behaved being so different from what I saw and experienced, it became too hard to go against the grain. I tried expanding with more obscure deities that were less concretely written in thebgroup. I became close to Neith and Khnum and Serkert, I focused on the esna traditions, something I predominantly had the pleasure of learning about because of sources from the group! But no one else particularly followed them, and so I was left alone again.

There was a common conundrum in the group, something I did also personally experience but dealt with- shockingly- in a different way than most. It's the age old, ‘well, this ancient calendar from this part of the world with an entirely different set of seasons doesn't line up with the Gregorian one at all!’ conundrum. A lot of paganism is nature based, a lot of pagans really like that connection, and it's had when working with a culture or pantheon where nature doesn't line up with the practice. Even more so with a culture that doesn't have as much, or as popularly known, rituals or practices for certain ‘popularly pagan'bthings. Like lunar cycles. Personally, moon stuff I just kept separate and interacted with in a very eclectic sense. It was never a super big focus for me, compared to a wiccain let's say. Lots of people here though really wanted big lunar stuff in a solar focused religion. I mean, go nuts! Have fun with Djehuty and Khonsu. But they sort of… wanted to push everyone else into doing that, and that was where it became awkward. Besides that there was just, a lot of disconnect on how to handle the reality of our seasons vs the ancient calendar we followed. No one really liked to talk about or acknowledge it as an issue outside of vague complaints. I personally also follow the wheel of the year, because it is designed for a modern calendar, and spent a lot of time trying to work out what Kemetic deities would make the most sense to be venerated on which of those days. It seemed a bit odd to me most people were more concerned with full moon rituals than Mabon or Litha, and I felt pretty solitary in holidays I adopted specifically because they were ‘mainstream’. A bit of a personal problem I realize, but it was another straw in the camel's back.

But I've digressed a fair bit. The point being I took a few dozen hints and ultimately left, not wanting to waste energy around people who caused me stress and feeling utterly shattered by a loss of faith. I felt so alone and lost. My gods had been twisted in my mind into something they weren't. I felt constantly ashamed and worried I was causing them offense, with perhaps the sole exceptions of Set and Anpu. I did not know where else to go, so I turned to pantheons yet untapped and unexplored. I went to the place people kept assuming I belonged, thinking maybe they were right and I just misunderstood the concept.

I certainly had not, but I found a much more rich and diverse and organized ecosystem within left hand path faiths. I certainly did not feel, theistic focused as I am, that I fit in with many different flavors of satanism (but again, no offense to them, you all are absolutely lovely, you keep on living your best lives.) but there were theistic forms of satanism that seemed more fitting to my cup of tea. And, as stated before, Set was already venerated in a lot of Satanic churches. This sometimes made me feel uncomfortable, because in my understanding of Set, he and Satan or Lucifer or whichever incarnations did not share a lot in common. I disliked the idea of a Christian narrative being forced on an old god on principle. But what I found were reasons for his veneration that were honestly a lot more in line with my own beliefs and upg and not simply because ‘bad guy god go here.’ it was his championing of individualism, the chaotic nature of nature itself, and free will, luciferian ideals to be sure but approached from surprisingly historically appropriate sources and not at all monotheized narratives. There is obviously some level of ‘well we are adopting him because he has been labeled as problematic’ but they took the time to understand intricacies of his teachings and not just copy paste some ideas onto him. For the first time in a long time, I saw other people look at his aspect as a war god and interpret it as I had, ‘you should speak up for fight for what you believe, you have a right to fight tooth and nail to exist in this word, it is more ethical to fight against injustice you see than be a bystander.’ This patroning of ‘war’ was not just a traditional one fought with spears and blood, but the embodiment of a fighting spirit to push back and make the change you want to see in the world with the tools whatever society you are in sees fit. I finally began to feel less alone.

I have become exceptionally close to Lucifer, and I really shouldn't be surprised. I was always wary to approach him, to approach certain aspects of Satanism as though it was simply signing myself up for too much. Not in a particularly Christian narrative induce way, (not that living in a Christian country wants a factor, of course) but in the same way that I whole heartedly respect the All Father but will not go near him with a ten foot pole. It was a can of worms I was afraid of opening, but apparently needlessly so. 

As an enjoyer of myth and theology in general, I had done my fair share of research on demonology and abrahamic angelic hierarchies purely from a scholarly point of view. It was not my religion, but it was fascinating nonetheless. But those ideas I consumed in my youth shaped me more than I thought, and I now fully believe several such entities have been watching over me since childhood, patiently waiting for me to be ready to listen and accept them into my life. Leviathan, particularly, I have also become close to and can in hindsight see so many instances of his influence and protection in my life. 

As I continued down a rabbit hole exploring a tangle of satanic, pagan, and left hand umbrellas I eventually arrived at the more recently coined, but longly practiced demonalatory. The Goetia was quite popular here, and that was something my previous demonology research had well equipped me for! I did not feel so grossly like I was starting over, just applying knowledge I had had for decades and applying it in new ways. 

What really won me and caused me to double down was the community I found. I have not reached out much, I am an anxious individual on a good day, but I could see even just looking from a distance how different things were. Everything was so much more courteous. People went out of their way to actually shut down gatekeeping when it was seen. People linked their references in a way that wasn't condescending or assuming it was an end all be all truth. Eclecticism was encouraged! Books I read literally told me ‘dont like these hierarchies? Make your own! Feel it with your heart.’ People actually take this advice seriously and respect others. People have the fucking capacity to go ‘man, that isn't the aspect of that entity that I persieve or interact with, but yours is so valid, these are all multi faceted beings.’ they are beginner friendly, actually beginner friendly, with dozens of archived and organized posts to help explain things from different authors and perspectives. Even posts telling people they shouldn't worry if there is a big ‘fad’ happening when they join and they shouldn't take it to heart or as gospel. Encouraging questioning everything and meaning it. Intellectual discussion without 50 ‘well actuallys’, a community where everyone is actually treated as equal and no one person becomes venerated as some defacto priest. It is lovely.

Per advice given, I decided to work out my own mini patheon of central deities, demons, and entities, working with those I had a connection with before and seeing how things went. Honestly, a lot of this was because I would look at certain quarter ruler arrangements and go ‘I mean yeah, Lucifer, Belial, and Leviathan? Those be the classics. But while I am sure you're lovely Feloreus, I have literally never heard of you before and the one of these things is not like the other energy is just not the vibe.’ I have since substituted him with Ashtaroth as the fire elemental, but I'll talk more about that later.

Bune was the first I interacted with. Their sigil was something I first saw in an anime when I was 5 for a deity that was effectively a DnD lesser god. Much later in life I had a moment where I joked I ‘was connecting dots that were never meant to be connected’ when doing some Goetia research for a more recent anime made me recognize the sigil from my childhood favorite show. I quickly developed a favorite goetic demon, even if it was at the time from a secular place. Ultimately, I found a lot of connections from my childhood and felt closer to them than ever. They were another ‘red’ entity like Set, and they became something of my liaison as I explored with others.

In an attempt based purely in desperation, I had turned to Ipos after determining he seemed to be the most qualified to help with my anxiety. He was exceptionally soothing and familiar, the latter of which was strange. Further down the research hole what do I find? A fairly unanimous conclusion that Ipos is the corrupted, demonized representation of Anpu in early Christianity. Fucking bet.

This was delightful on so many layers. For one, it was fascinating to see a very different game of linguistic telephone and see how Ipos, in a way, was far closer to original translations and transliterations of Anpu than the romanized Anubis. I found, and have found with every deity I have since attempted to ‘reverse engineer' in this way, that the understanding of this entity passed down by word of mouth was far more inline not only with my personal interpretation and upg, but with how original Egyptian text described when you scrub out all of the 17th century white British Christian nonsense that archeology is laden with. Even pagan scholars, try as they might, have a hard time removing things that have been treated as fact for so long, seeing bias that is ingrained in our society. This was like some magical, isolated, uncorrupted source of information. Which well, there has certainly been corruption, especially from 17th century white British Christian nonsense even though it was from an occultist's hand rather than an archeologist’s and arguably therefore less severe, but it felt so much more genuine than so many takes of reconstructionists. It was more sparse, but that lack of need to methodically fill in the gaps kept the information that was there a bit less twisted. Kept further from the public eye, the layers of whitewashing that needed to be scrubbed away were significantly less. 

Rather than a small window into a glorious past that seems unattainable, I feel like I have found the long path the gods have walked to where they sit in this world today.

While demonalatory comes in heavily theistic flavors it comes in many more secular ones as well, as is unsurprising given its satanic roots. I have found many ‘traditionally witchy’ pagan practices that are sometimes just awkwardly pasted over the base pantheons and practices to fit with a wider crowd and modern understanding have much stronger roots here- or at least have been settled into a nest much more carefully and integrated with forethought. And besides that I have found so many of those ideas cited in Egypt! Some of which I knew, others I didn't. It was so strange, knowing I had spent years studying Egyptian myth and practice and ideas, only to find so many fundamental traditions originated there despite being forgotten by the reconstructionists. Alchemy began in Egypt I knew, but I found so many better sources, so many specific little things I didn't realize were a part of the alchemy umbrella because they have become so unanimously adopted by modern secular witchcraft elements such as astronomy they are treated as a modern idea not rooted in tradition and cut out of their origin. Metals especially were fascinating, especially with so much corroboration from isolated far east cultures. People talk about Egypt, and talk about how Egypt was influenced, and talk about how Egypt influenced others instead of trying to put things in a vacuum. I was delighted.

Set, of course, had his own fun with all this. I did have anxiety and general existential dread at what felt like simply jumping religions after decades. Would he be mad I was so close to these other gods and demons where I had failed to be close to any of his siblings? Would it upset him if I redesigned the altar he was the center of? Would he feel like the odd one out over time?

Sitri was a goetic demon that was a favorite go to of mine for using in fiction. I had done lots of research on him earlier in my life than with Bune. You think the leopard imagery would have been a hint. 

A good meditation of being trolled by your patron with lots of sad farewell songs coming on only for the tone to shift abruptly and you start to realize, wait a minute. And sure enough, like with Ipos and Anpu, there was a general consensus that Sitri is Set. I could feel him laughing, but it was the closest I had felt to him in a long time, and I was finally at some semblance of peace.

I personally view his aspect as Sitri as particularly doubling down on the ‘patron god of the gay’ aspect, but that is a fair amount of upg. 

I have taken to trying to document as many ‘original identities’ of traditional goetic and other popular demons as I can, something I feel a bit uniquely equipped to pursue given my background (not that there aren't others in the same boat I'm sure.) I've made a lot of personal discoveries and latched on to many more of others. While not as absolute as some have found, enough etymology telephone could place our fire deity Feloreus as an aspect of Heru, so no wonder I had felt a bit awkward after my recent divine falling out. Ashtaroth (which I have taken to preferring over Astaroth) is unquestionably Ishtar and the many many different diets in the area she shares roles with. I will do a fun post on some of the etymology later, but it is where we get Ostara and apparently validated some upg of her and Lucifer being close.

Which is ironic, because I have always felt drawn to Ishtar but struggled to approach. Now having the correct avenue, it has become easy. In terms of Egypt I personally identify her most with Hat-Hor opposed to Aset. I suppose that is my old kingdom inclination, as I feel like the original ideal of Aset is much further off from her, unlike the new kingdom nigh monotheistic Aset which was much closer. Particularly the idea of Hat-Hor and Sekhmet as two faces of the same entity speaks to Ishtar for me personally. I had some closeness with Hat-Hor, certainly the closest I was to a goddess, but things still sometimes felt clunky. This now is all more natural. 

But most importantly I don't feel like I have abandoned my gods, just found a better avenue with which to communicate with them and accepted a few more into my inner circle. But it was all a long, complicated, tedious process that is not easy to explain so I have written this unholy novella to try to. Not that I have ever been particularly skilled at being concise. 

I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. I think I had really begun to internalize things about my religion that were at odds with my own internal processes and unhealthy, even if it was little things like starting to feel self conscious about what types of clothes I wore. All the parts of witchcraft that are important to me feel so cohesive now, my calendar is no longer an unsolvable conundrum that always ends in me feeling on the sidelines, but something a nice mix of traditional and tailored that I think is much more palatable to the new crowd I have found. 

The unfortunate result is for the first time in my life considering something of a broom closet. A post about aroace rage I once read articulated the feeling well, that they aren't a ‘socially acceptable easy to digest ace who wants to be all lovey dovey’, I feel like I am no longer a ‘socially acceptable, easy to digest pagan'. I am not a quirky witch who worships nature and flowers and gods you learned about in public school in a way that is strange but exotic and intriguing. I have befriended the devil even if I do not see him as such, I fall under a satanic umbrella of some kind even if I am not entirely sure the label fits, or what label does fit. I am now no longer simply standing in a place that a fair number of Christians would see as about as confusing as Hinduism or other non abrahamic religions, but something in technicality in direct opposition to it. Not that there aren't always radical Christians who are quick to assume any flavor of witchy endeavors is satanic and by satanic they assume you are sacrificing goats. But I feel like I am over a line, I am no longer ‘passing’, a feeling I have had to contend with through transitions and sexuality and race that I don't particularly relish having to again. Not that there's much to be done for it. In the end it susses out the assholes of the world quick, which in a way so exactly what I was asking for, but I still have a fear in the back of my head, the same one that an unforgiving neighbor will try to vandalize my house for the same way I always have due to my sexuality or gender. You think living with the fear that long I'd be used to it but no. I am just… suddenly self conscious about talking about religious anything in public, thinking to hard about every joke or creative swear, hyper conscious that should someone recognize the sigils I have drawn on my arm to try and calm my nerves and repair my health that they may turn against me without warning and with extreme prejudice, openly berate me while I mind my own business.

But as I said it is technically what I asked for. I would rather be able to see my enemies clearly than continue to have them masquerade as my friends. 

A more depressing note than I intended to end on, but one I felt compelled to share all the same. I think it is important to address the hard things. And really, I am much happier now. I feel more centered, I feel like I understand myself and the world around me better. I feel heard and I feel included rather than alone. Not that it isn't lonely sometimes, there aren't really any local pagan groups in the area, but then again 90% of ‘the area’ is corn and soy so that's unsurprising. There's actually a lovely pagan apothecary in the closest city! And with any luck I will be able to sell some consigned goods there.

All of this is, in the end, besides a lengthy meandering confession of sorts I suppose, a lengthy and meandering explanation for a change in direction for this blog. I'll make some more, significantly more succinct posts about some things in the future, but for now I give you the full story as to why things are so different.

I intend to keep what has been posted archived and available. My compulsion to share myself and my spirituality is, besides wanting to feel connected, rooted in some ways in a desire to help and to share and put things out there because if I don't, who will? As a Sethian, the idea of deleting existing content in an attempt to present uniformity and professionalism is just nonsensical. Change happens, Set is about embracing change, and hiding my own change certainly won't do any good for myself or the world at large. If nothing else I hope other, younger pagans see this and take away ‘its okay to try something new and go somewhere else, no matter how long it's been.’ In a similar vein, I am absolutely happy to continue to discuss any Egyptian ideas, from upg I have had, currently had, to historical sources I have showered and have under my belt. If something I have or know can help you with what you're doing, going through, or trying to understand I am more than happy to share! 

[iam-back]

Super Mario RPG playthrough diary - 37

Alright, boys and girls, let's actually head off to Wacky Weaponland or whatever it's called. Smithy can't remove the last Star Piece from his own person!

Lemme look for myself...

...Apparently there's only one Hidden Treasure.

After that we'll re-equip the Ghost Medal for Mallow.

Hippopos are NOT the enemy you want with an orange label - their Body Slam can one-shot your poor party members to death!

Fair warning - Weaponshack is home to a fair number of "who the Devil are you" characters, enemies AND bosses alike. It's a Squeenix thing, apparently.

Behold, the weapon nobody uses because they got the Lazy Shell weapon.

Remember when I mentioned "who the Devil are you" bosses?

As Blast Man always says, "time to begin the Count Down". Only instead of Dingalings, the bells are now called Ring-a-Dings. I guess modern Squeenix didn't want to talk about penises in a Mario game?

You'll absolutely want to take out the clock face first! It'll do something different and horrible each turn, except at 10:00, when it skips a turn because mamagoogoogama.

Unfortunately, that's not what ended up happening.

Can we all talk about how none of the bosses in Weapontown USA have the Fight Against an Armed Boss music? Real missed opportunity - this is Smithy's home dimension and therefore it'd only make sense, but Squintendo were a bunch of dum-dums.

Anyway, after that grueling Nightmare of a boss fight, because I was a moron and left the face alive last because I used AOE attacks like Geno Flash and Thunderbolt, therefore leaving it to do all manner of crazy and terrible things, I won by the skin of my teeth.

...What I WOULD be saying, if I weren't so overleveled that I blew off the face with much jumping and electricity and nobody even got too hurt to continue once.

And almost as if the game apologized for subjecting me to such unholy terrors, suddenly after the boss fight I was fully healed.

Now to wait until next time to venture further into Balan Weaponworld. Who knows, I might even see some familiar faces!

[myfriendskickass]

@girlpoasts making a new post because i don't want to clog up rune's notifs -

I have literally had overclocking give me BSODS with video games before. (as in, passed every benchmark software test with flying colors but the second I play a video game, boom, insta BSOD).i have heard devs of specific games explicitly say "if you overclock, it may affect performance of our software." this is my actual lived experience. (I didn't overclock myself, it came stock overclocked which. Why do hardware manufacturers do this I hate it)

i never said that this problem was software only? Heck, if it was, they would be able to patch it, and they can't. I wouldn't be advocating people to replace their tech if this was fixable by a patch.

the number after the i doesn't mean THAT number is the specific core count, it just means that an i3 has LESS CORES than an i5. Not that it has 3 cores or 5 cores. I was not implying that i3 = 3 cores, where are you getting this from?

The vast MAJORITY of laptops have everything soldered together to the motherboard. It is EXTREMELY likely that you are going to need to replace the entire thing. Even if you remove the SSD (if the machine lets you) for the price of replacing a cpu AND motherboard, it is much cheaper to just...buy a new laptop. Also, most people are not going to have the tech knowledge/feel comfortable enough opening their own laptop to remove an SSD anyway, so that's another service fee you'd need to add to repair it. It's easier and less hassle to just back up your stuff on an external drive and buy a new laptop.

Yeah, if you have a desktop you're probably in the clear and can just replace the CPU. Depends on how broken it is. Last I heard, this issue specifically had to do with voltage? If there is a voltage issue with your cpu, it absolutely CAN break your motherboard. (I have had this happen to me in the past.) I said up front on the post that I haven't gotten a chance to watch the videos, too. Reading more news, this seems like a power draw and heating issue. Guess what? Heat can destroy your motherboard! Again, especially if you have a laptop, where everything is crammed together.

The biggest issue with these intel CPUs right now is that it's UNPREDICTABLE. You have no idea how much strain your cpu has already been under at the time this is making the news - and it might just be enough to also affect other hardware components, especially if the issue is heat damage. You have no idea how far into the lifespan your cpu currently is thanks to this problem. I know that computers and laptops turn themselves off when they get too hot to protect themselves but if you keep pushing them to this state, you are permanently damaging your hardware. I'm in the damn Sims community, I see people do this to their laptops ALL THE TIME and LAUGH ABOUT IT.

If you are computer savvy, and know how to open up laptops and build your own desktops by yourself, yeah, it's probably a minor issue for you - swap out cpu and replace it ASAP. But the vast majority of computer users are NOT that technologically advanced, and are NOT GOING TO KNOW HOW TO DO THIS. FOR THESE PEOPLE, IT'S BETTER TO REPLACE THE WHOLE THING

this ENTIRE time I have mostly been talking about laptops. Because most computer users today USE LAPTOPS. In other words - that post's target audience is NOT the people who are CAPABLE of replacing hardware.

By the way, this is intel's LITERAL product description:

Does every single cpu in these product lines have the exact max number of cores? No, obviously you have to look up the specific product. But IN GENERAL, an i3 is going to have less than an i5, which will have less than an i7 etc. Literally the whole point was to tell people who AREN'T TECH SAVVY what numbers on their product label ARE important to see if they are affected by this problem and what they can do to fix it.

[headspace-hotel]

also there’s an important analogy I think needs to be made about clinical diagnoses of mental illness

Does everybody remember that post that was talking about how manatees were removed from the endangered species list, and then it was added that this wasn’t actually because their populations were increasing, it was just that their protections as an endangered species were removed?

It’s like that. Mental illness labels are like endangered species labels. They are both made up, they both describe something real to an extent, but the lines defining them can be very arbitrary. And they conceivably wouldn’t be necessary in a perfect world.

But just like the answer to manatees’ decline isn’t to take them off the endangered species list, the answer to mental health problems isn’t to do away with labels. Because—just like if manatees aren’t endangered anymore, we won’t be closely tracking all their populations and setting up wildlife refuges in important habitats and spending lots of money on educating boaters on how to avoid manatees—if we don’t have some way of “labeling” conditions, people won’t be able to easily access information that might help them and ask for the accommodations they need and connect with other people on the basis of shared experiences.

This goes for neurodivergencies too. It especially goes for them.

I know “autism” is a made up label, and to an extent arbitrary. But—do y’all seriously think the only benefit it’s given me is some kind of “identity” related thing?

Before I started reading online about autism, I did not know what sensory issues were. I had them, but I could not identify them. I knew that I would often be very exhausted after social events and would often become very upset and cry. I knew that sometimes eating was very hard for me, and my nutrition was bad. I knew that I hated going to certain things, but I couldn’t articulate why.

Without the “label,” I could not have described or even found out what was happening to me. As a kid I couldn’t tell you “I don’t like events that are loud” or “I don’t like certain kinds of touch” because I didn’t know that. I just knew that the world was scary and sometimes I felt awful and overwhelmed and there were some patterns but I couldn’t interpret them.

My parents didn’t seek out a diagnosis because of anything related to sensory issues either. I thought things were like this for everyone! I just didn’t know why I had to cry so much and be so irritable.

Like, shit, I’ve had a completely debilitating fear and hatred of doctors and medical procedures my entire life and I could never identify why, and I hurt and traumatized myself further not knowing it was an Autism Thing because I couldn’t communicate my needs or concerns because I genuinely didn’t know what they were. I thought everyone felt like I did! I thought when people joked about going to the doctor being unpleasant, they were referring to things like having recurring nightmares about it and shaking uncontrollably from being in a doctor’s office and feeling panicky from having a nurse move in their peripheral vision.

I hate when people talk about how excessively labeling neurodivergency is somehow stifling or oppressive. I need more words, not fewer. I don’t even necessarily believe that characterizing something as a ‘disorder’ is always bad. “That hurts” is a label and a characterization of something as wrong, and when I’m in pain I don’t want people to create a society for me where it’s okay to be in pain, I want someone to help. Things will still hurt in a world where everyone’s needs and feelings are okay! Sometimes they will hurt in non-normative ways! It’s not possible to completely eliminate the ideas of a “normative” way to experience distress!

Like, I think people have this idea that in a Perfect World, autistic people will be able to be like “yeah, I need quiet environments because I’m very sensitive to noise” and have that accommodated without a “pathologizing” label for it.

But when I was diagnosed and began to do research about my condition, I was able to buy clothes based on my sensory issues. I was able to start wearing earplugs to noisy environments. I was able to plan my activities around what would drain my processing energy and give myself adequate time to recover. I couldn’t have done anything like this before because I didn’t know what was causing me to suffer.

I still feel obviously, painfully Other to most people in social environments. I don’t know if that will ever go away. You can theoretically create a society where accomodations are freely available to everyone without “pathologizing” them, but how do you create a society where no one is Other even if their physical perceptions and entire experience of the world is different? How do you talk about sensory differences without labeling some experiences as different? How do you create a world where it’s okay to be autistic if “autistic” can’t be meaningfully differentiated from anything else?

Defining disability and mental illness based purely on accommodating people without labeling them assumes that people can articulate how they are suffering and what they need without “labeling” vocabulary for it. And I just don’t think that would work as well as people think it would.

Sensory overload doesn’t feel like sensory overload until you know what sensory overload is and how it might apply to you. I know that sounds weird, but it’s true. It feels like coming home from a party and crying and feeling angry, or snapping at people when they try to ask you things, or just feeling nauseated and like your skin wants to crawl off when you’re sitting at the dinner table. Even if you know what sensory overload is, if you’ve never been able to directly and obviously associate your reactions with stimuli, you might not feel it applies.

I’ve struggled so much with my own experience of my body and world and how it’s different from other peoples’ experience and how to explain and identify things I feel and experience. But if I wasn’t able to label myself as autistic, I would not have recognized my suffering as suffering or fully understood that it was “suffering.” I would have just been anxious and exhausted in such a vague, unclear way that it would limit my life, and I feel sick at the thought of a society that would reassure me that it was “okay” to not want to pursue anything outside of my house without giving me words to describe why that was happening.

Sometimes you can’t tell you’re suffering because you’ve never felt anything better. It’s as if people assume there’s this level of feeling okay that everyone will successfully identify as how they could be feeling, and it’s just not true. Sometimes you can’t tell you’re suffering because youre so out of tune with your senses and emotions that you can’t identify something you’re feeling as worse or better than something else, or at least not outside of the immediate moment. Sometimes when you learn about a “label,” that’s the first time you realize, “Wait. Things can be different?”

Idk. I can’t vibe with the ‘labels r bad’ side of mental illness conversation. Labels are always going to be incomplete but they are also always going to be necessary, and they facilitate the process of asking for accommodations. The idea of eliminating “normal” and “abnormal” as categories of experience is appealing until you spend most of your life not knowing “abnormal” existed and just thought “normal” felt bad and difficult.

[skamenglishsubs]

Young Royals ep1 ending breakdown

You've seen the show, you've seen the gifsets, hell, I even reblogged one myself, but I haven't really seen anyone talk about what's actually going on in the ep1 ending. And you know how much I love juicy subtext, so here goes:

Up until this point, it's not obvious to the characters that they're attracted to each other. We, the audience, see what's going on, but the characters are oblivious. Until this exact moment:

Nils says: "He's probably fooling around/making out/hooking up with someone. Fuck it."

August says: "What do you mean fooling around? Did he leave with someone?

This is the first time someone puts a label on what's going on here, and Wilhelm suddenly realizes that whatever this is, it might not be strictly platonic, and he starts to gay panic.

However, Simon hasn't caught up yet, and is just being an ass, trying to reveal their hiding spot. So Wilhelm panics even more and tries to shut him up by putting his hand over his mouth, because he really doesn't want to start explaining to August and the guys why he's hanging out with Simon and not them.

Simon is just giggling as Wilhelm tries to hide them both, still thinking it's a silly drunken game. But as Wilhelm keeps his hand on him and looks at him, Simon finally has his own light-bulb moment.

Wilhelm quickly removes his hand, but it's too late. Both of them now know that they're attracted to each other, and as the episode ends, the implications of all of this come crashing down on Wilhelm as he closes his eyes.

[wheeloffortune-design]

I don't know exactly how to call my eating disorder, and even if I can or should label it as such. I call it "food related anxiety". It's probably very tied to executive dysfunction, and the process of buying food, making sure the ingredients don't go bad, planning meals, cleaning the kitchen and actually cooking is very hard on me. Also, I might not get the release of happy hormones people should get when they eat, so it just becomes a task and not a pleasure. (Only sugar does that for me and you can see how this is a problem. I can taste good food, but apparently just eating itself should make you happy. I just do because I have to.)

Anyway, I don't eat right. No routine and too much take out. These last few weeks have been bad. Uber eats owns my first born by this point. But it's better than not eating, because that's what happens if the anxiety overwhelms me.

Now, in the long series of "having money solves all my problems" I subscribed to one of those meal boxes where the ingredients arrive all ready.

It's the 2nd day and I think this will honestly change my life. Not the fact that it's easy, because it's still cooking, but by removing so many steps in the process, it lessens the executive dysfunction and I get to the cooking stage without having to spend three hours paralyzed in my bed because I'm hungry but I can't feed myself.

I've been cooking with my brother and we have enough energy to clean after. The food in delicious. Learning new recipes makes them less intimidating, and I'll have an easier time including veggies if I know many ways to cook them.

So far, my goal is three months. They say habits take three months to form, so this'll be my cooking bootcamp. Maybe after that I can actually have a control over what I cook and what I eat. It would be nice.

I've been insanely proud of being able to cook and clean two days in a row. And it was delicious.

[three--rings]

Something I want to contribute to this conversation as someone who was never in the canyon, never considered myself any kind of Izzy stan, (I've always enjoyed him but he's never been of particular interest to me to explore in fic, etc) is that the hostility of the fandom over the issue of Izzy just drove a lot of people out of the fandom entirely.

I was always, always sympathetic to the Izzy fans because I hate antis of any kind and have been in fandom for 25 years and know people attacking fans for liking a character or ship are always the bad guys.

When I MENTIONED Izzy Hands on my blog I got deranged anon hate in my inbox. As I'm sure you all understand. Last year, I mean.

It got to the point where sometime late last summer I just didn't want to see the words Izzy Hands and unfollowed anyone who had any discussion of his character at all on either side because reading the discourse infuriated me so much.

Which means I basically unfollowed most of my OFMD people and ended up drifting quickly away from the fandom into things that didn't pain me to interact with. From the general amount of discussion and fan content over time I don't think I was the only one who was like yanno fuck this shit life is too short. If you think being an Izzy fan was lonely, try being pretty exclusively a Blackbonnet fan who can't stand people talking shit about Izzy.

Only when the trailer dropped did I try to reengage with the fandom and quickly realized oh, yeah a lot of these mainstream people are still completely deranged by hatred of Izzy Hands and I followed and unfollowed people extremely quickly once I saw it. It was so unavoidable in the buildup to S2 airing that I wrote this post.

And got a death threat within hours, which eventually tumblr said they removed the sender for fwiw.

So then I was like fuckit I'm getting death threats, I'll be more explicit. Which post got such insane responses that people not in the fandom were messaging me and commenting like OMG what the HELL is wrong with that fandom. Legit people were like I was going to watch the show but now I'm not because those people suck.

At which point I basically decided to start following Izzy fans because they were the only sensible people I could find. Hi.

But my feeling, as a whole, watching the people who were in OFMD all along who were hostile to Izzy fans, watching Izzy fans, watching people like me who haven't been active for a year or more until this season.

I think most people are positive to neutral on Izzy and always have been. Or dislike him because he was an antagonist but not as a character if that makes sense. I think some may have been persuaded by the hate or simply ignored it in order to engage in fandom, (or were afraid of being labeled problematic and racist) but I think a lot of people simply decided to just read fics they liked and hang in very small circles if any and ignore the greater fandom drama because it was so unpleasant.

I feel like if people who hated him now feel more positive it's not because they feel like they were wrong, but that he has changed and his writing has changed. I don't see a lot of remorse personally.

But humans are always very bad at admitting to themselves or others that they were wrong. Their opinions of Izzy might continue to change when they go back and rewatch, but I doubt you'll see many posts about how wrong they were. I doubt you'll receive many if any apologies.

Certainly anyone who actually did the worst of the harassment will not admit they were wrong because they would not be able to face being that bad of a person.

The blockwalls are unfortunate but unlikely to be undone. The most you can really look for is that the Izzy haters become fewer and fewer over time and as people return to the fandom and new people enter, the old wars will fade into memory.

Also, do not underestimate how hostile a small number of people can make an online space feel. You may feel like the numbers are overwhelming and that everyone had blocked all Izzy fans, but I doubt that is the case.

I know a situation in another fandom where multiple writers were hounded out of the fandom by hundreds of messages over years and it turned out to all be one person's doing and only by finally comparing notes was it revealed and they were named. People who felt like a significant group was coordinating attacks on them across multiple platforms were actually just targeted by one very ill person.

So, yeah, these are unfortunately the kinds of things that happen when we forget to live and let live and when fandoms get bored during hiatuses. Eventually canon will be complete and the period of in-between S1 and S2 will seem like a distant memory and the fanon associated with it will probably be laughed at. That's how fandom goes.

TBH the fandom has reacted better to S2 than I feared, though that could always change at any moment. Even now it feels like once we get to Tuesday and Wednesday that people start getting antsy and try to start shit with baiting hot takes.

slowly moving out of my smug phase and transitioning into a "okay... so what happens next?" phase.

cuz like... what does happen next? i really really think the fandom as a whole needs to address whatever the fuck was happening for more than the past year. and i guess i'm wondering what does that actually look like? and what are you supposed to do if you spent a year and half being awful to people about a character you were wrong about?

and ik a lot of people will just brush it off or dig their heels in deeper that they weren't wrong and they didn't do anything bad, but i like to believe that not everyone will, ya know?

but idk it feels like part of a larger convo on fandom, antiracism, fan activism, and harassment.

[crypttechnikian]

i can see my page. but if i go into a different browser/on my phone this happens

this is honestly mogaiphobia and ableism. my amount of genders and pronouns (my hoards) are unable to be seen by the public. you may ask, "Nik! Why do you think they thought you were trolling?" and honestly? I have no idea. Here are my labels:

I'm not quite sure why this amount of labels counts as "trolling" when there are many people who have a lot more labels! I have about 70 pronouns on my page, I can't really show all of them, it would make the post way too long.

Another question someone might have is "Why do you need all of these genders and pronouns?!" Well, it's simple. I'm Autistic (ASD Level 1) and ADHD. That's why my labels are in alphabetic order, it's easier for me to see them. My gender is heavily based upon my neurodivergence. My mirco-labels help me understand my mspec oriented aroace-ism. Maybe It's because of the amount of "counteractive" or "same" labels. I, personally, identify with being a Gay MSpec Transmasc Aroace. My neurodivergence has turned my gender into something very vast.

I use xenogenders to help me understand it. My gender sometimes feels like a void in space, or a rotting log with mushrooms on it, etc. My gender is loud. My gender is evil. My gender is the night, my gender is robotic. There is no reason for me to be "trolling" about this. I am very much connected to all of my labels and pronouns.

If someone reported my page, why? Is it because they actually thought I was trolling? They probably don't know me. So how do they know I'm trolling? Whoever reported me doesn't know my gender any more than an employee of pronouns.page or even myself.

There is no reason to be banning someone for using MOGAI labels, especially when one of them is Autigender. I'm very upset and still processing my emotions about this situation.

If someone knows how to appeal this ban, please let me know.

Tagging MOGAI/LGBTQIA blogs and others for a boost under the cut. Please let me know if you would like to be removed from the list.

@alcremie-mogai-n-kin @aroacechillzone @blurgender @bored-coiner @forest-of-mogai-genders @galaxy-of-genders @gendermerchant @little-gender-trinkets @mogai-clouds @mogai-timezzz @mogaiz-heaven @neopronoun-flags @neopronounprovider @neopronounsmybelovaed @pinkfruitgender @spiral-gender @tangymogais @thexenofaerie @xenogender-klown-goblin @xenogenders @xenozandshite

[chatonne-rousse]

Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike

Written as a gift for my sweet friend @sketchy-panda to celebrate a bunch of happy things in her life, as well as just because she's awesome. Inspired by this adorable piece of her art.

During a rooftop discussion about superhero merch while relaxing after patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir each decide to share their favorite items with their partner. What results is an impromptu gift exchange that just might open the door to a whole lot more.

Read it on Ao3 here.

"My parents put us on the Christmas tree last year, Kitty! I had to see myself in the living room every day."

He bumps her shoulder with his. "And me, apparently."

"Yes, but your ornament was cute!" She flails her arms comically and he tries not to focus too much on the fact that she called his likeness cute. "Mine didn't even look like me."

"Would you have liked it better if it had?"

"That's not what I..." Ladybug scowls, but there's no real heat in her expression or her voice. "It was just weird."

"No, the baby onesie that I saw on an actual baby that said 'Meow, My Lady' was weird," Chat mutters. "I didn't even know any civilians had ever heard me say that."

Ladybug's surprised laughter rings out across the rooftop they're perched on tonight, loud enough to be heard from any nearby open window until she muffles the sound with her hand over her mouth. "And whose fault is that, you tomcat?" she asks through her remaining giggles.

He tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and his smile breaks through. He chooses to ignore the jab at his vain attempts at flirting. Wooing is difficult business.

"The baby was cute, though. I had to take a picture with him."

"You had to?"

He shrugs. "That's a very small request, Bugaboo. I've encountered way worse. A few pictures? I don't mind."

She stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze, before looking back over the horizon. "Have you ever bought any Chat Noir merch? You strike me as the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures."

He is the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures, and he definitely does, but he thinks of the drawer in his closet that's full of red and black, reminders of his beloved partner. There are far fewer items in black and green.

"I...have a few things. The action figures of us are really cool, actually. Didn't you always want to be immortalized in plastic as a kid?"

"Can't say I did, Minou." She bumps his shoulder this time. "I'll bet you had your supersuit all planned in your head already, didn't you?"

Not quite, but only because he never imagined himself as a cat-themed superhero. He has no intention of ever divulging the fact that his first real transformation sequence was anything but random. That secret is between him and Plagg, and he's not telling. Plagg probably will, but that's a problem for future Adrien.

She laughs again. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'll have you know, My Lady, that I have a carefully curated display of collectibles that are very valuable. And no, this—" he gestures from his cat ears to his steel toes, "was all spontaneous. Can't help it if I've got cat class and I've got cat style."

Ladybug shoots him a deadpan look that dissolves into giggles once more when he wiggles his eyebrows.

Success. He loves to hear his partner laugh, loves to make to his partner laugh. These are moments he wouldn't trade for the world.

"Well," she finally says after her laugher subsides, "the Chat Noir doll I saw in the market did not have cat style, so I made my own."

"Really?" His voice is soft with wonder.

"Yep! And a Ladybug doll, too." She casts him a sidelong grin. "They're a duo, you know. I couldn't have Chat without his Lady, could I?"

He wills himself not to cry. It takes three blinks and one shaky breath before he can respond. "You made them? Yourself?"

"Sure. It's not hard. All it takes is felt and thread and buttons for eyes. They're simple, but—" she shrugs, "I think they're pretty cute."

"Wow," he breathes. "You really are amazing, Bugaboo. They sound incredible."

His Lady seems to amaze him anew with each revelation she allows. He could count on one hand the things he knows about her, really knows, and those facts are tucked away and treasured. She's a whiz at video games. She babysits. She has a loving family. She listens to Jagged Stone. She loves animals.

"Thank you, Minou," she says softly, as the barest hint of a blush spreads to her cheeks beneath her mask.

His heart beats a little faster. His tongue feels heavier. He falls just a tiny bit more in love with her.

Ladybug fills the silence again. "Better than mass-produced action figures, for sure. More cuddle-able!"

That startles a laugh from him. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I'm telling you, Bug, those action figures are cool. I can't believe you don't have a set."

"Guess I need to go shopping."

"Yup," he responds with a decisive nod.

When they make eye contact, it sets off another giggle fit, Ladybug's shoulders shaking with mirth and Chat having to wipe the tears from his eyes. It's not even that funny, but it doesn't have to be.

Paris is quiet tonight, and his heart is light as he relaxes against the rooftop and laughs with his best friend.

*****

Four days later, when they meet up for patrol again, Chat Noir is surprised when his partner joins him carrying a gift-wrapped box. Especially since he himself is hiding a gift bag behind his back.

He sweeps into a bow as she approaches, straightening with an exaggerated wink. "Something for me-ow?"

Her expression morphs into one of longsuffering annoyance. "Well, it was, but I'm reconsidering."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps, one hand clutching his chest over his heart.

Her lips twitch into the beginning of a smile and soon the stillness of the nighttime rooftop is broken by their shared laughter again.

"For you, Chaton," she finally says with a grin, holding out the box.

He produces the gift bag from behind his back and presents it to her, the tissue paper fluttering in the night air. Her eyes widen with delight, and his heart sings.

The handoff is a quiet affair, a hushed silence of surprise settling over the moment as they sit cross-legged, facing each other.

Even the box is beautiful, he notes, wrapped in shiny black paper and adorned by a giant bow of vivid green with black paw prints. He knows, of course, what's in the bag she's holding in her hands. Could this box contain...? He doesn't dare to dream.

He looks up and nods at the bag. "Go ahead, Bug."

The tissue paper rustles as she removes it, trapping it under her foot to keep it from drifting away on the breeze. She takes one look inside, sees the label on the top of the box within, and bursts into laughter. "You didn't!"

Chat grins. "I did."

She pulls out the box to take a closer look. There are several options when it comes to Ladybug and Chat Noir collectible figurines, but this one is his particular favorite. They're sold separately, but he's always been partial to the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition, boxed together as a pair and made to wield his baton in his left hand and her yo-yo in her right, leaving them free to hold hands in the middle. Which the figurines' hands are molded to do, and how they're currently posed in the box. They can also stand alone, but there's just something special about the fact that joined hands are an option.

"Okay, Kitty, you were right. They really are cool." She points at the Ladybug figure. "This looks so much better than that Christmas ornament!" Squinting at the box to examine his figurine, she suddenly snorts a laugh. "Your hair looks like a bunch of bananas!"

"Hey!" He pouts, but he knows she's right. When he bought his own set last year, Plagg had made the same observation and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his cheese. He then proceeded to call him Bananoir for days, until Adrien threatened him with a month of Velveeta. The ribbing didn't really bother him that much - honestly, he had to concede the resemblance - because it was an action figure...of himself. No matter how many were produced, that fact would never not be incredible, and no amount of banana hair or cat god snark could diminish his excitement.

"Oh, Chaton, I'm just teasing. I love them." She beams at him, cradling the box with both hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, LB. I just...I thought it would be fun."

"Great minds think alike, it seems. Your turn!"

He glances down at the box in his lap and back at his partner. Her smile is bright, but her eyes betray a nervous anticipation.

"Bug, you know I'm going to love whatever this is, right?"

"I hope so. I made them myself."

His heart in his throat, he carefully slips the ribbon from the box and slices the paper with his claws. He can barely breathe as he lifts the lid.

His hunch (his dream) is confirmed when he finally sees the contents of the box. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper, side by side, are two handmade plush dolls, opposite in configuration to the action figures but with their soft little hands touching in the center just the same. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and he wipes them away quickly, partially out of embarrassment but mostly because he wants to see every detail with clarity.

The seams are pristine, the limbs symmetrical; the dolls are simple, but crafted with a skilled, sure hand. He picks up the Ladybug doll first, lifting it reverently from the box. Red felt with carefully-painted black spots form the doll's body, and her little black button eyes gaze up at him from a matching spotted mask. A sweet smile is the only other adornment on her face, but the doll is perfect without anything else. This is his beloved partner, created by his beloved partner herself. That alone is perfection to him.

He returns the Ladybug doll to the box and shifts his attention to his own likeness, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat.

Equal in craftsmanship, the felt Chat Noir in his hands smiles the same sweet smile and looks at him with shiny button eyes from a black domino mask. Perched on his blond felt hair are two black cat ears, and a real bell is sewn at his neck. He gives the doll a gentle shake and the golden bell rings with a jaunty jingle. It's adorable.

Chat Noir is helpless to the grin that lights his face, looking up from the doll to his partner just in time to see that same joy reflected back in her own dawning smile. Warmth suffuses his chest, elation and love and an overwhelming gratefulness bursting firework-bright and making his breath catch.

He has never received such a heartfelt gift in his life. This eclipses the fine blue cashmere scarf his father gave him on his fourteenth birthday, folded in his closet and placed where he can see it every day. It's a treasure to him, and it always will be. But this, handmade just for him with obvious care by the person he loves most in the world? Nothing could come close.

"I don't know what to say, LB," he begins once he can finally speak, "They're...they're amazing. Adorable. Perfect." He takes a deep breath. "I'm fumbling this, but...thank you isn't enough."

Ladybug reaches out to place her hand on his knee. Even through two supersuits, the contact sends a shiver up his spine. Her expression is one of warm relief, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Thank you is more than enough, Kitty. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" he splutters. "These are far from nothing!"

"Oh, Minou," she laughs. "I meant that it was my pleasure. It wasn't difficult, but even if it was, you're worth it."

Do. Not. Cry. He thinks. He's been fighting tears since she handed him the box. Once he gets home, he's absolutely going to give in and sob while clutching them to his chest. He's man enough to admit that...to himself.

He takes several deep breaths and swallows against the lump in his throat as he arranges the dolls back in their tissue paper nest, making sure their hands are touching before replacing the lid on the box.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he says softly. "I love them. Us."

She pats the box still held on her lap. "And I love this version of us, too. Thank you for making sure I have the coolest action figures in Paris." After placing the box and the tissue paper back inside the gift bag, Ladybug stands and offers her hand to Chat to help him up. "Now, let's go stow these treasures and patrol. Last one to Sacre-Cœur has to buy the other an ice cream cone."

Still clutching the gift box under one arm, he watches her throw out her yo-yo to snag a distant chimney before she zips off with a giggle. He grins, shakes his head, and reaches behind him for his baton.

"That's my bug," he murmurs to himself, before setting off for home to secure the gift safely.

In a few minutes he'll rejoin his partner in a merry chase across the rooftops. He hopes the night remains quiet.

Chat Noir can't wait to buy ice cream for his Lady.

[geminiwritten]

jesse’s girl ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: natasha encourages you to date one of the new recruits in the hopes that it might provoke bucky to confess his feelings for you

notes: this is messy and i’m so sorry but i’ve be so stuck lately and i had to force myself to get this written! i hope it’s decent...

word count: 4744 (i don’t even know)

Three weeks ago, the only thing you could think about was Bucky Barnes. His blue eyes and the twinkle that they get when he smiles really wide, the way he flips his hair out of his eyes during a sparring match, and the smell of his aftershave after a hot shower. Everything about Bucky Barnes felt as though it was a drug designed specifically for you.

But that was three weeks ago.

After venting to Natasha and Wanda on a long overdue girls’ night, you finally agreed to go on a date with one of the new recruits who had been asking you out for almost a month. His name was Jesse, and he was one of twelve new agents that were being trained by Steve, Sam, and Bucky in the hopes of being able to help on missions where numbers were necessary.

Natasha convinced you that maybe Jesse would be the chance for you to move on and forget about Bucky, since your infatuation was very evidently not reciprocated. You were sceptical at first, but he was cute and funny, and he seemed genuine, so you agreed to go out with him.

“Hey,” you greeted, looking up at the sound of your room door opening, “how was training?”

Despite his soft smile, it was obvious that Jesse was exhausted, “Good, yeah…”

You stood from your desk and gestured for him to give you his heavy tactical jacket, “What’s that ‘yeah’ for?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, “I’m just tired.”

“Really?” you asked, following him as he sat on the edge of your bed to remove his boots.

“I mean,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t want you to think that I’m making shit up or just being a wuss but…”

“But?”

He sighed, “I just feel like Barnes is going a little hard on me.”

You frowned, unable to stop the way your heartbeat began to race, “What do you mean?”

The fitness watch secured around your wrist beeped at the sudden elevation in heartrate, to which Jesse offered you a confused frown.

You tapped the device in an attempt to shut it up, mumbling, “Stupid thing.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, thankfully ignoring the watch, “I’m probably just over-thinking it but he really doesn’t seem to like me. He made me do thirty extra laps because I asked an ‘irrelevant question’ even though Timms had just asked him how long lunch break was. And he’s always calling me out for having poor form, he gives me all the broken gear and all the shitty roles during dummy-missions. He’s never even given me a chance to lead but Timms has, twice!”

You frowned, “Which one is Timms again?”

“Frosted tips.”

“Oh,” you watched as he tucked his laces neatly inside his empty boots, “that’s rough.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I don’t know, maybe I’m being dramatic.”

You shrugged, “I don’t think so, none of that sounds at all fair to me.”

He turned to you, looking up through his lashes with pleading eyes, “Really? Because I was thinking that maybe, if you didn’t mind, you could talk to him for me?”

Your watch chirped with another heart rate warning, “Oh, um, like talk to Bucky and ask him to ease up, or…”

“Yeah! He doesn’t have to go soft on me just cause I’m dating you,” he winked badly, “but I wouldn’t mind a pat on the back every now and then.”

“A pat on the back?” you echoed, still trying to squash the sound of your watch with your other hand.

He stood quickly from the bed, gathering his jacket and shoes and pausing before the door, “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Wait,” you stood too, “aren’t you staying here tonight?”

He shook his head, “I’ve got an early start tomorrow, and besides, now you have a chance to talk to Barnes for me!”

Though you couldn’t actually remember agreeing to it, you nodded slowly and leant into his kiss as his lips collided with your cheek.

“Thanks babe, see you tomorrow!”

The door swung shut in your face, leaving you to stare bewildered at the empty coat hook stuck to the back of it.

After sitting pensively on the foot of your bed and allowing yourself enough time to process the conversation that had just taken place, you decided to go upstairs. You hadn’t spent a lot of time with the team over the past few weeks, thanks to Jesse, and you couldn’t help feeling a little sheepish as you stepped out of the elevator and into the common room.

“Oh, my!” Tony, the first to lay eyes on you, exclaimed, “Could it be our long-lost comrade?”

Clint chuckled, “We thought you’d been taken hostage, or worse.”

Before you could speak, Peter walked up to you with his hand outstretched, “Hi, my name’s Peter Parker, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

You gasped indignantly and slapped his hand away, “Watch it, smart ass.”

The rest of the group who were sprawled around the living area rumbled with laughter while Peter received a proud high-five from Tony.

“You know, princess,” Sam said, appearing beside you and placing a heavy hand on your shoulder, “I think you owe us an apology.”

You scoffed, “I don’t owe you anything, Wilson.”

“Actually,” Steve pitched in from his spot on the lounge, “I’d say you owe me some gratitude since I was the one who hired your new boyfriend.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of that word out loud. Though you’d thought it once or twice, you hadn’t yet heard it spoken aloud and something about it made your insides knot.

“Don’t say that word,” you snapped, “I- we haven’t talked about it yet.”

Natasha’s ears pricked at the sound of discomfort in your voice, and her eyes quickly looked to Bucky. He was slumped beside Steve on the three-seater sofa, his elbow resting on the arm of it as his hand supported his head. He looked as if he was doing his best to sink right into the lounge itself, his lips pressed in a thin line and grey eyes glued to the television screen.

Natasha supressed an evil smile as she turned her attention to you, “What do you mean you haven’t talked about it? You were just saying yesterday how dreamy this guy was.”

Crimson colour blossomed in your cheeks, “Thanks, Nat,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “All it means is that we haven’t spoken about labels yet, now would you all butt out of my love-life?”

“Love?” Sam exclaimed, much to Natasha’s delight.

She glanced at Bucky, whose jaw was getting significantly tighter.

“Oh, come on!” you huffed as you pushed past Sam, moving toward the sofa where Bucky and Steve were seated.

“You know, Y/N,” Nat said as you situated yourself between the two super soldiers, “if it’s not too early for the L-word then I think you should at least start using the B-word.”

Before anyone else could react or respond, Bucky jumped up from the lounge and practically sprinted toward the kitchen door. Silence enveloped the room, everyone staring at the blazing trail that he left behind.

“Well,” Sam spoke first, trying and failing to conceal his amusement, “I wonder what that was about.”

He and Natasha exchanged a knowing glance before dissolving into giggles.

“You two are cruel,” Wanda said, standing from her seat at the dining table and heading for the elevator.

“Did I miss something?” you asked.

Beside you, Steve shrugged, “Just ignore them, they’re being idiots. Buck has had a hard few weeks and he’s nervous about having to let go of some of the recruits tomorrow.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to have to get rid of anyone.”

“Yeah, some of them just aren’t performing well,” he replied, “but between you and me, Jesse is safe.”

You knew you should have felt relief, but you were too busy worrying about Bucky to even consider the safety of Jesse’s position in the recruitment programme.

“He’s actually performing really well, he’s a very promising recruit,” Steve added.

You blinked yourself out of your own spiralling thoughts, “Who is?”

Nat snorted a laugh from across the living room.

“Jesse is,” Steve said, “your boyf-”

“I told you not to use that word,” you interrupted him, standing from the sofa. “Um, I’m just going to go see if Bucky is okay.”

No one spoke a word as you exited through the same door that Bucky had moments before, and as soon as it swung closed behind you, Steve turned to Nat, “Is there something I should know?”

Her grin was nothing but satisfied, because her evil plan was going exactly as she had hoped.

Natasha wasn’t stupid, in fact, she was the exact opposite. She was an international super-spy with a genius level intellect, specially trained to be able to manipulate people and events in her favour. It would have been stupid for her not to use her expert skills and abilities on you, despite the fact that you were one of her closest friends and fellow avenger.

It all started three weeks ago when you had requested a special night in with both Wanda and Natasha. The girls knew that you were once again needing to vent about your unrequited love for Bucky, but Natasha had decided that it was time she did something to fix her best friend’s broken heart. She knew that Bucky felt the same, and not just because Wanda had told her in complete confidence from once hearing his thoughts, but because the Winter Soldier wasn’t at all good at hiding the way he felt about you. At least, not from Natasha.

She could easily see the way that you both pined for one another, so really, she was doing the two of you – and the whole team – a favour. Jesse’s feelings were just collateral damage, and she only felt a twinge of guilt for using him as a pawn to evoke Bucky’s jealous rage in the hopes that he might finally express his feelings for you.

“Are you insane?” Steve asked once Natasha had finished explaining her scheme, “Bucky is going to kill you if he finds out.”

She shrugged, “Finds out what? That I encouraged my best friend to go on a date with a cute guy? That’s hardly a crime.”

Wanda re-entered the room with her drawing pad tucked under her arm, “Like I said, cruel.”

In the gym, down on the lowest level of the compound, Bucky had changed into his sweats and begun pummelling all of his anger into one of the sparring dummies.

“Careful,” you said, stepping up to the ropes around the elevated sparring ring, “Tony just got us a new one, he’ll be fuming if you destroy this one so soon.”

At the sound of your voice his footing stuttered and he tripped forward, his thick arms wrapping around the dummy in order to stop his whole body from falling to the floor.

“Jeez,” he huffed as he righted himself, “don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” you blushed, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He watched as your nervous eyes searched for anything else to rest upon but him, “Don’t be sorry.”

He cursed himself for being so soft around you and turned back to the dummy before he had the chance to say anything he might regret.

“Are you alright?” you asked him, resting both forearms on the lowest rope.

He landed two expert punches to the torso of the dummy before turning back to you, a bead of sweat escaping his hairline and racing down his sharp cheekbone.

“Of course, why?” he lied.

You shrugged, “Just seem off, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” he said, “a little tired, but fine.”

Your eyes were wide, silently pleading for him to be honest, but he was too stubborn.

“Okay,” you said, reaching your arm up toward him with your pinkie finger outstretched, “pinkie-promise?”

His whole body felt warm and fuzzy, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He couldn’t resist you, so he crouched down and linked his flesh pinkie finger with yours.

“I pinkie-promise.”

The stupid sound of your fitness watch alerting you about your erratic pulse made you both startle, and the blush returned to your cheeks tenfold.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked.

You retracted your hand and quickly held the watch behind your back, “Just- uh, low battery I think, stupid thing.”

He frowned.

“I should get to bed, anyway,” you said as you backed away from the sparring ring, “I’m glad you’re okay, Bucky, really.”

You spun around and headed quickly for the door, smacking the small screen on your wrist in another lame attempt to get the thing to shut up.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky called across the gym, stopping you just before the door.

He wanted to tell you how he missed you. How he missed your smile and your voice, and the way that you would always take his side over Sam’s. He wanted to tell you that the last few weeks have been hell, and that he hated every second that you weren’t by his side. He wanted to tell you how he really felt about you, but he couldn’t.

“Jesse is really great,” he blurted out instead, “he’s a really promising recruit, and I think you two make a great couple.”

You felt as if someone had stuck a pin into the side of your heart, popping it like a balloon.

“Oh, uh, thanks, Buck,” you called back, “I really miss you though.”

Before your watch could identify another alarming elevation in your heartrate, you swung the door open and hurried into the corridor, away from the gym.

Over the next few days, you avoided just about everyone. You were confused about Jesse and still overwhelmed by Bucky, and most of all, you felt as though you were missing out on some huge inside joke with the rest of the team. You needed space in order to pacify your turbulent thoughts and decide exactly what you wanted to do next.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Wanda said, waving a hand in front of your dazed eyes.

You blinked yourself back to reality, “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I asked if you were coming to watch the recruits after lunch.”

“Watch them do what?”

She rolled her eyes, “The sparring competition.”

Your confusion only deepened with the crease between your brows.

“Against Natasha and Barnes,” she elaborated, “didn’t Jesse tell you?”

You shook your head, “I haven’t really had much of a chance to see him lately.”

She had to fight the temptation to listen in to your thoughts, “Oh, well, Steve decided that a little friendly competition might boost morale among the recruits after they had to let two of them go last week. They’re going to spar with one another and the four best recruits will get to fight either Bucky or Natasha.”

“Holy shit,” you muttered, “that’s- uh, that’s intense.”

“I suppose it is,” she said, “are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, of course, just a little preoccupied.”

Nearly three hours later you were seated between Wanda and Sam in the first row of the gymnasium’s modest bleachers. Tony had them built in beside the sparring ring for occasions such as this, or for watching Natasha kick Rogers’ ass as he often liked to remind everyone.

The eleventh match was almost over, which meant there were only five more until four of the recruits would have to fight Bucky or Natasha. They were quick rounds, hardly lasting any longer than five minutes each, and with every winner that Steve called you could feel your palms getting sweatier and sweatier.

“For your sake, I hope Jesse gets Romanoff,” the burly recruit sitting behind you said, he had already won his first two matches and you had no doubt he would be one of the four winners.

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning in your seat to look at him.

“Jesse’s one of the best fighters, I don’t doubt he’ll be one of the top four, but Barnes will snap him in half if he gets the chance,” the man replied.

Sam’s attention was piqued now, and he too turned around, “What the hell are you talking about, man? This is just a friendly competition.”

This time, the recruit frowned, “I know that, but Barnes hates Jesse, he’s always had it out for him and don’t think he’ll be very friendly if he’s given the chance to fight the kid.”

You turned to Sam, watching his face morph slowly into realisation.

“Wait,” you said, “I’m still confused. Bucky doesn’t hate Jesse, he told me himself that he thinks he’s a great recruit.”

The burly recruit looked from you to Sam, and then back to you as he slowly raised both hands in mock surrender.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “but this conversation is definitely above my paygrade.”

Sam turned back to face the sparring ring, obviously ignoring your confused and urgent eyes.

“Sam,” you poked his bicep, “What the fuck is going on?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I just-”

“Next match is Jesse versus Angelina,” Steve announced, interrupting Sam, “and if Jesse wins this match, he will be the first of our final four!”

The small group of recruits, agents, avengers, and friends of avengers cheered, but you were all too confused to even muster a clap. Steve then announced that the match would begin in five minutes, so you took your chance and hurried over to where Jesse was stretching beside the ring.

“Hey,” you said, “how are you feeling?”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, excitedly planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “I feel great, I’ve got this in the bag.”

You resisted the urge to wipe your lips on the back of your sweater sleeve.

“Oh, really? I mean, you’re incredible but these other recruits are pretty tough.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “not really, they’re all fairly amateur but these rounds are just a warm-up.”

“A warm-up for what?”

“Barnes,” he replied, his gaze locked on something across the ring.

You glanced over to see Tony helping Bucky try on a few different gloves, each of them made from a variety of soft materials and reaching up his forearm and above his elbow.

Jesse sniggered, “Those gloves are a waste of time, he won’t get a chance to land one on me.”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed, “Jesse, he is a genetically enhanced, special-ops, super spy. He could kill almost everyone in this room without even breaking a sweat.”

“Almost everyone,” Jesse echoed, “you’re right, but not me. Don’t worry babe, I’ve been waiting for a chance to show Barnes who’s boss ever since recruitment day.”

You were utterly speechless, anchored to the ground by overwhelming disbelief of what you had just heard. You hardly even noticed when Jesse kissed your lips once more before Steve called him into the ring.

Slowly, you moved back to your seat between Wanda and Sam.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked, a gentle finger hooking beneath your chin to close your open mouth.

You were in shock, “That kid is an idiot.”

“I could have told you that,” Sam said, “he’s too cocky, always pushing back and refusing orders. We only keep him around because he’s shown some real skill, and because of you.”

“What?” you snapped, “Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?”

He shrugged yet again, “Barnes asked us not to, said that if you liked him then he must be a good guy deep down.”

You glared at him accusingly before whipping around to Wanda, “Did you know this?!”

She smiled sheepishly, “Yes and no.”

“Ugh,” you groaned loudly, “why the hell is everyone being so damn cryptic lately?!”

Steve’s voice once again echoed around the gym, announcing Jesse as the winner and the first of the four finalists.

The next few rounds happened faster than you could keep up with. Every time the bell rang to signal the beginning of a match, you fell back into the spiralling pool of thoughts in your head. You wanted to find answers for all the questions you had but there was something that you didn’t know, a piece of information that you needed in order to finish the puzzle you so desperately wanted to solve.

“Oh, my god,” Wanda said, bringing you back to reality, “this isn’t going to end well.”

“What happened?”

“Jesse is going to verse Barnes,” Sam replied, trying terribly to hide the amusement in his tone.

“Is Bucky really going to kill him?” you asked.

“He’s thinking about it,” Wanda said.

Everyone cheered as Natasha was the first to fight the burly recruit from before. She had him in a headlock within seconds, but he certainly didn’t seem too bummed about being trapped between her thighs.

The next match was a muscly female recruit against Bucky, who was inhibited by a silicone glove covering his bionic arm. She was incredible, and seemed to actually give him a run for his money until Steve rang the three-minute bell and Bucky pinned her to the floor. He had obviously been going easy on her, only putting a fraction of his power into every move for the fear of actually injuring her.

After the rest of the recruits celebrated the length of time that their comrade had managed to stay in the ring with the Winter Soldier, it was time for Natasha’s second duel. She was up against a petite but lean female recruit who only had half a head of inky black hair that was braided tightly to her scalp. The fight was dynamic and entertaining to watch, even Natasha seemed to be enjoying herself with the skilled young recruit, but after five minutes passed Nat won the round.

It was nice to watch all the young recruits celebrate with each other. They were all huddled together, chatting excitedly about how great this competition was and how amazing both Nat and Bucky were. They were genuinely happy for one another and they were starting to act like a real team, all but one of them.

Jesse was back in his spot beside the ring, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands on his knees, palms facing up.

“Is he meditating?” Sam said, taking the words right out of your mouth.

“Not really,” Wanda answered him, her eyes trained on Jesse, “he’s a bit nervous, but he’s hoping that everyone is looking at him and thinking he’s really cool. He also can’t wait for victory sex tonight.”

Your stomach lurched, threatening to send your lunch back up your oesophagus, “Gross.”

The moment Steve stepped into the middle of the ring, the gym went silent, as if everyone was waiting for this fight.

“I can’t wait to see Barnes destroy him,” a voice from somewhere behind you said, “the weasel deserves it.”

“He shouldn’t even be given this chance,” another voice joined in, “it’s an honour to be in one of these matches and Jesse’s just an arrogant prick. I can’t believe he wasn’t kicked out of the programme last week.”

Steve rang the bell and the match began.

Bucky was still wearing his silicone glove so he didn’t accidentally kill his opponent, though you almost wished that he had taken it off this time.

Jesse wore a stupid smirk as he danced on his toes around the ring. Bucky had to use all of his strength not to knock the idiot out in one punch, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the longer he had to wait for the first swing.

“I know your technique, Barnes,” Jesse said, only loud enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, “This is a sparring match, Jesse, just shut up and throw a punch.”

“Why would I do something that you’re expecting me to-”

Bucky swung a soft fist into Jesse’s torso, knocking the wind out of him and earning a cheer from the crowd.

“Big mistake,” Jesse spluttered as he tried to regain composure.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before fluidly ducking Jesse’s first swing, and then the second and the third.

“Stop thinking about how you look while you’re fighting and focus on technique,” he said as he resisted the urge to finish the match right then and there.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Jesse’s swings became sloppy and Bucky was easily dodging every attack. The crowd were cheering and even Steve had to fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As Bucky moved around the ring, guiding Jesse whichever way he pleased, he searched for you. He knew it was silly, but he wanted to know if you were watching, he wanted to see if you were worried about Jesse or if you were watching for him.

The moment he found you, his heart began to race. Of course, it was already a little worked up from dodging Jesse’s careless fists, but the effect that you had was so immense it made him a little dizzy. Then he saw the corner of your pink lips quirk upwards ever so slightly and for a split second, he lost focus.

Jesse’s fist collided with Bucky’s jaw, drawing a gasp from the crowd as Bucky stumbled on his feet.

“That’s what you get for looking at my girl,” Jesse sneered.

Bucky glanced at you, worry now consuming your perfect features.

Jesse too glanced back, evoking a flicker of rage across your face before he turned back to Bucky and really put the final nail in his coffin, “I just can’t wait to fuck her tonight after I win this stupid competition.”

Wanda gasped, “Holy shit.”

“What?” you demanded.

“Oh, no,” Sam muttered.

In the time it had taken you to turn to Wanda and turn back to the ring, Bucky had begun beating the life out of Jesse and Steve was running into the ring to stop the fight.

You leapt off your seat as your watch, yet again, began beeping obnoxiously to alert you that your pulse was beating dangerously fast.

By the time you reached the side of the ring, Steve and Tony had pulled the pair apart. Bucky climbed out of the ring as Steve carried Jesse off to the infirmary. The recruits were cheering for Bucky, chattering animatedly about the events that had just transpired.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, “Are you okay?”

The pure uncontrollable anger in his eyes melted away the moment they met yours.

“Hey, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, finding a towel to dab at his split lip.

You raised your brows, “The last time you said that to me you were lying.”

He couldn’t help the silly smile that you brought to his lips, “I’m sorry, and I’m sorry that I broke the sacred vow of a pinkie promise.”

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.”

For a moment you simply stared at each other, hearts thrumming and palms sweating until painful realisation shot Bucky through the chest.

“Well, uh, you should probably go check on your boyf-”

“Please don’t,” you cut him off, softly bringing your hands up to his jaw, “that idiot is not my boyfriend, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Bucky whispered, his voice failing him as you overwhelmed his senses.

You shook your head, “No, I have a Bucky.”

That was all he needed to close the distance between your lips, pressing his body against yours as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

You never wanted to part from him, not for anyone or anything, not even for air but the sudden chirping of your fitness watch made the two of you startle.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sighed.

Bucky chuckled, “What the hell is that noise?”

You laughed too, “It’s my Bucky-radar actually, because whenever there’s a Bucky nearby it beeps like crazy because my pulse starts going a hundred miles a minute.”

“Is that so?” his smirk almost made your knees buckle, “Should we test this thing out then, see how fast your heart has to race before it breaks?”

You hooked your arms around his neck, the watch still chirping, “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”

He pressed another breathtaking kiss to your lips, stealing every coherent thought in your head.

“Oh, I’ve got a list.”

END.

[thechildofstark]

Sympathetic Villains and the Rise of Overt Apologism.

I’ve seen a lot of discourse recently about how being a fan of villainous characters has become polarized, and how the way people treat villainous characters (and people who support them) needs to change. The two main issues seems to be:

a) the classic “if you support this character you support their actions” bs. 

and 

b) “oh no, my character isn’t a villain, they’re just a misunderstood baby who would never hurt anyone”. This, I think is much more worrying, and almost certainly came into practice as a response to point a). 

As has been said many times before, appreciation of a character does not equal agreement with a character. Nobody is accusing fannibals of being actual cannibals ;).  This can often follow on with issues in the source material/with the actors. A great deal of the negative attention on the WandaVision storyline (racism/anti-Semitism/anti-Romanyism/anti-blackness/gaslighting/torture/O***n using slurs/etc.) means that anyone that supports Whitewashed-Wanda (Wendy) is automatically labelled as in agreement with her actions in the text. And to be fair, this version of her is a pretty terrible character. It’s just incredibly bad writing. But this feeds into the second point. Wendy-fans, faced with such strong hatred for their fav, go too far in the other direction, insisting that she did nothing wrong. And there in lies the issue. This is by no means limited to Wendy - so I might as well use another completely divisive example: Kylo Ren. 

Kylie Ron is an objectively terrible character. He is a badly written whingy asshole. (okay that’s mostly on the lack of coherency between films/creative teams - aka a post for another time.) The problem is that his fans behave like he never did anything wrong, ever - and is he is one of the ultimate good guys and was all along, actually. In doing so, they completely undermine his role within the text, and gloss over the fact that: 

He killed his dad

He joined a neo-N*zi organization

He took over leadership of said organization 

He completely screwed the First Order over. A story is only as good as its villain and he is a terrible leader with no core beliefs or alignment to the radicals he leads. 

Yes that last point was literally me being annoyed that he is bad a being a N*zi. I want the evil bad guys to be cool and competent. He is neither. 

He has awful relationship skills

He dies like a newb

He is literally a terrorist

This is a short, totally unbiased list of reasons that I think that saying Kyle is a ‘perfect lovely hero uwu’ just doesn’t work. If you want to be a fan of him, that’s fine and up to you, but if you want to be a fan of him and in the process erase all the bad things he did, you aren’t a fan of Kylo Ren. You are a fan of an aggressively altered and de-problematized oc insert played by Tall Brooding White Man #1785. 

The idea of being a fan of a character that does bad things has become quite heavily judged over the last few years, and I think that this is the response: making it so that all the beloved main characters are good and perfect beyond reproach. So that it is impossible to be judged for liking this character, because they’re such a good person. But in the process, many of the negative and positive aspects of the character are wiped away, leaving a blank slate insert with no culpability and no positive discussion of any of the potentially harmful things that they did in the text. 

Earlier I mentioned Hannibal. I consider Hannibal Lecter to be pretty much a textbook case of liking a character you disagree with. As someone who appreciates high art, good food, psychological discourse, angst, and fun murders, I love NBC’s Hannibal. But I don’t actually condone eating people in real life, and neither does the fandom.  But I can appreciate art as separate from myself because that’s how it works. 

The other classic is Darth Dad himself, Anakin Skywalker. Is he Evil™? Yes. Does he murder children? Yes. Is he also a member of a fascist dictatorship? Yes. Do I love him? YES. Because all of these things are part of his character. Without them, he wouldn’t be Darth Vader anymore. 

TL;DR: Villains are really cool, but once you deny all the aspects that make them villainous it automatically devalues the character and removes the opportunity to learn from their mistakes, and to discuss genuinely problematic things within the text.

also fuck d*sney :)

[sapnxps]

(WTL) Chapter One: Greg the Neighbor- Georgenotfound x Reader

If I knew that when I moved to London, I'd have two weird neighbors, I'd laugh in your face. Now I'm friends with an old cat lady. Now I'm enemies with my cute neighbor that's definitely not single, who also screams too much.

Even though he's a dick, why can't I stop thinking about him?

My parents told me I’d regret moving to London from the state before I left because I’d miss them and the US too much.

They were half right.

I’m sitting on a box messily labeled ‘kitchen’ in the hallway of my new apartment complex. I huff, wiping the sticky sweat from my forehead. The moving bill is almost 4 thousand dollars. If I knew moving would be this expensive, I wouldn’t have moved out from my parent’s house until I was 40. Sure, I moved a lot of my belongings across the Atlantic ocean, but 4 thousand dollars? Who do I look like, Jeff Bezos?

Today has been hectic, to say the least. Three of my boxes somehow drifted away to Spain. Don’t ask me how that happened, I don’t even know. I’ve been unpacking by myself all day. A box of my kitchenware got shattered upon arrival. I should’ve listened to my Mom on that one, she told me to just buy plates and glasses here instead of shipping them here. Big mistake I’m never making again. Finally, the biggest chunk of my problems: My apartment is full of boxes and I don’t feel like unpacking. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress for two days, maybe not, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If one more thing goes wrong, I think I might lose it.

Begrudgingly, I lift myself up from the box I was sitting on. It’s a bit dented now, but the way it felt on my ass, it’s just pots and pans. I open the door, pulling this box into my apartment. I weakly push it into the kitchen. It collides with one of the boxes filled with shattered plates. The sound of the broken glass sliding across the box sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I need to make a note to properly dispose of that. Turning my head to look around my new home, I feel my brain's short circuit. All these boxes unpacked, I’ve barely made a dent. This is going to take for-fucking-ever. Moving is modern-day torture. Oh, that’s funny. Remember to tweet that later.

The next three hours of my life are taken up by filling up my kitchen cabinets and drawers with cutlery and various kitchen utensils. The counter was now less bare, housing my toaster and breadbox. My Tupperware containers sat in a special place in the far-right cabinet by the sink. It looked like this home was lived in, as long as you didn’t glance anywhere else besides the kitchen.

I soon after tackled the bathroom, which was the less intimidating room compared to the living room and bedroom. I got the shower curtain hung up, which made it look nice. The rug found its way to the floor, protecting my feet from the cold, cream tile. The shelves were now stocked with a few fluffy peach towels and soaps. Underneath the sink had cleaning supplies as well as spare toilet paper. Living alone meant having nobody to give you another roll if you finish the other one. Kinda sucks. I had a boyfriend during high school, and two years into college. I dreamed of living with him, we planned it all out. I’d finish college, we’d move to a city and rent out the tiniest apartment we could find. We’d live it out until eventually we made ends meet and the rest would be. Dreams cut short though, he cheated. It’s part of why I left in the first place. Needed a change of scenery, new people.

That’s where I am now. New people. Stuck on that part. Haven’t gotten a chance to meet any, which is oh so tragic. I can’t decide if I want to introduce myself to the neighbors or let them come to me? I’m stuck pondering on the thought until I hear a knock at the door. I wonder if my lost boxes have mysteriously arrived.

Opening the door, I’m greeted with an older woman, holding out a small cake into my space.

“Hi dear, I’m your neighbor to the right. Heard all the commotion, saw all the boxes. I had to see for myself the fresh meat in the complex,” She paused before lightly tapping my arm with her free hand. “Just teasing! It’s great to have another lady on this level. The young man to your left, handsome fella, never comes out much though. Hopefully, we can have a girl posse or something,” Her posh accent made her much different than me. Is it wrong to already feel isolated?

I grin at her, moving out of the way to invite her in. “Nice to meet you, feel free to come in. I apologize for all the boxes scattered around, moving has been proven to not be quite my talent,”

The woman smiles brightly at me, shock plastered on her face. “You’re American!”

“That I am,” I chuckle. She hands me the cake, which I gladly accept. My diet has consisted of soggy hash browns from the complex lobby. She makes her way to what is settled in the living room, politely setting herself on my suede blue couch across from the large wall in the room. I place the cake on my counter by the stove, making a mental note to grab a slice once the woman leaves.

The shock never leaves her aged face, “Oh goodness! How amazing. I have a foreigner as my neighbor. You’ll find London quite lovely. I know how it feels to be isolated and removed from what you’re used to, but I promise you’ll fit right in,” She says as I settle myself on the loveseat a bit away from the couch.

“Where are you from?” I ask. She obviously isn’t American.

She smiles, “Just a bit east of Surrey. South of London. Beautiful area, grew up on a small cottage,” The woman was glowing as she spoke of her hometown. She was obviously proud of where she grew up. Compared to my southern Arizona town, this place seemed like heaven. A cottage? Sign me up.

“Sounds lovely,” I speak truthfully.

“Welp,” The woman slaps her laps, a way of signaling it’s time to end the conversation. Despite only speaking for a small amount of time, she seems like someone I can come to if I ever have questions about London or the terminology that I hear around the city. I’ll need to remember that she’s the neighbor to the right. As she began to see herself out, I remembered the other neighbor she mentioned. The young man to the left. I believe she used the term ‘handsome fella’ to describe him. Once she was out in the hall, I felt the need to find out more information.

“Oh!” I shout, hanging myself out into the hallway. She pauses her steps, turning back to me. “By the way, who’s my other neighbor? The guy you were telling me about. Does he have a name?” I ask.

“Greg,” She nods, resuming her short walk back to her apartment.

Greg. Ugly name.

I completely forgot about the conversation by dinner time. As I was munching down on my cake, delicious by the way, I heard loud yelling from my right side. I wouldn’t even call it yelling, more like high-pitched screaming. Who was my neighbor over there again? Greg? Greg. He was causing a ruckus and a mere heart attack at that. He was screaming so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time I heard it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s facing a very, very gruesome murder right now. Well, I guess I don’t know any better. I’m just wishing for the very best.

Another hour passes. The yelling never stops. It’s only 8, but my body is as awake as ever. I still have yet to get used to the new time zone. At times it was difficult, but I’m using it to my advantage now. I have some extra time to unpack and get my actual bed ready. My bed frame was put together professionally during lunch, so that was one thing checked off my list. The mattress I ordered was delivered yesterday. Now it was just the matter of putting the sheets on and preparing my duvet.

Fitted sheets fucking suck to put on a bed. I was currently struggling to put it on my nice mattress. It was edging close to 10 pm. The sky was dark, and I was stuck in some odd mixture of a starfish and the downward dog position. If this moment was a picture, it could be used for blackmail. The closer I got to finally getting the top right corner on my bed, the more stretched out I became. I was like one of those sticky hands you’d get in those toy dispensers at the grocery store. I was just about to get it, when another loud shriek could be heard. In shock, I slammed my head on the bed frame and lost grip of all four corners of the sheet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

Whatever. He probably has a greater reason to be screaming like this, right? Justified shouting, whatever you want to call it. My bedroom is closer to his apartment than the kitchen was. Is it nosey to try to figure out what he’s saying? I don’t want to be that type of neighbor. I’ll continue minding my business because I don’t want to find out some weird shit about Greg that I don’t want to know.

The screaming never stopped.

In fact, if anything, it got louder. And louder. And louder. Is it okay to call the cops here?

It’s midnight now. The next fucking day. And Greg is still screaming at the top of his lungs as if everyone else isn’t asleep. If I saw some normal citizen just trying to get some rest, I’d be fed up. Well, I’m still fed up. I’m also running on a messed-up sleep schedule, so it’s not like I was trying to sleep anyways. My bed is made now, and comfy as hell. I built a shelf to house some of my small decorations, with the entertainment of my noisy neighbor’s yells to accompany me. For some odd reason, it made me feel less lonely.

At about 2, I began to reject the company. I felt irritation grow in my chest as I heard the same high-pitched shrieks that I heard at 8. The annoyance that bubbled in me overtook my politeness. Before I knew it, I was up and in the hallway banging on his door. I didn’t have the time to care about my Daffy Duck pajamas sticking to my legs due to the heatwave hitting England right now. Before I even realize it, my fist is slamming on his door. I never knew I had the power to knock that hard, but my anger and blossoming resentment overpowered me. I continued banging until the door pulled away from its frame. Now I’m face to face with Greg.

Boy was he handsome.

I was met with a man, about 5 foot 9. His dark brown hair was disheveled. Strands of hair laid across his forehead messily. If he wasn’t screaming, I would’ve thought he was sleeping. He was wearing a fluorescent green hoodie with an odd smile plastered on the front. It was a bit large for his skinny frame, that’s unimportant though. His grey sweatpants were twisted on his legs. What the fuck was he doing? His face was delicately shaped. This jawline looks sharp yet fragile like it was constructed of the most fragile rose crystal I’d ever seen. His brown eyes reminded me of caramel, thick and way too easy to get lost in.

“Hi, uh Greg-” I start. I’m just realizing now how close I am to him. The scent of his spearmint gum floods my nostrils. It’s a bit powerful, crinkling my nose at the smell. It wasn’t gross, just very shocking.

“George,” He spat. That’s fucking embarrassing. I’m meeting him for the first time and I got his name wrong. I’m not taken aback for long though, because his attitude oozing from his simple correction was enough to disgust me. I’ve done nothing wrong to him, except maybe get his name wrong. Was my moving too much of a nuisance to him? Poor little British thing, he can deal with it.

I cringe, “Oh, um, sorry.”

He leans into the door frame, sweatshirt adjusting to the movement. Forget a tiny bit large, he was swimming in this thing. “Yeah, no problem. Can I help you or are you selling girl scout cookies at,” George checks his watch. “2 in the morning. If you are, I’m not interested, sorry ‘bout that,” His outfit makes me feel a lot less aware of mine. Despite his face being rather attractive, the outfit makes him look like he just rolled out of bed.

“Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you could lower the volume a bit, please. Or just stop screaming entirely, if possible. I don’t know if you have some weird shouting fetish, but I certainly don’t,” I chuckle. George, however, doesn’t chuckle. Actually, he looks rather unamused. If a human was an art museum, it would be George. Curling into a ball and falling into an endless void doesn’t sound too awful right now. I think I’ll add that to my itinerary. I’ll do it in my bed so I’m at least comfortable while I’m drowning in my own self-pity.

He grimaces, “Yeah. Sure.”

He’s blunt. Got it.

The second I turn my back to the door, it slams. Wow. What a cunt. Shaking the interaction off, I begin to feel the wear and tear of the day beginning to hit me. Moving all those boxes made my muscles ache. The solution to all my problems today seems to be going to bed. Not that I’m not okay with that, just funny. The day before I left for London, you’d think I was shocked by lightning. The electricity that was running through my veins was no match for any ADHD medicine the FDA had ever approved. Now, my body is beginning to fall victim to the earlier time zone. Not that it was a big deal, it was going to happen eventually. These next few days would just entail a difficult sleeping schedule. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

I quickly find my way back to my own bedroom. The yelling was quieter, but I could still hear George through the thin walls. He was murmuring to someone softly. This apartment complex was all 1 bedroom apartments. He didn’t live alone. How lovely! I made a fool of myself to him, and he was most definitely telling his partner right now. Talk about dignity, am I right?

I scrolled through my phone for an hour, before the screaming returned to its original volume. Would it be overdramatic to say I felt my face go red with anger? I don’t think so. I think I handled the situation as politely as I could. Hell, I even cracked a joke so he could know I wasn’t that upset over the situation! If I knew he was going to resume his disruptive noises, I wouldn’t have been so nice or absolutely hilarious. Nobody that douchey gets my amazing humor. He didn’t even laugh! I hear another shout followed by a slam to a desk. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Welp. Welcome to London!