#also yes you are tumblring correctly good job

[beat-the-morning]

🖤Common Stage || Hozier x Reader🖤

READ ON TUMBLR UNDER CUT || READ ON AO3

Rating: 18+ || smut

Tags: coming in pants, cum eating, cum swallowing, face-fucking, oral sex (both receiving), semi-public humiliation, hand jobs (in the dressing room), tour bus sex

No beta we die like the poor thing in the road

Summary: You tease Andrew too much before a show and he cums on stage, he makes you make it up to him.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Sorry for not posting for a month, it will happen again. Probably. I hope not. But you know me so :/ anyway enjoy :) also that suit in the picture is the one he wears in the fic :)

💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙

Following your boyfriend on his tour had been easier than you expected. Yes, it was overwhelming sometimes, and having to live on the road wasn’t exactly easy, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. You had travelled around the world for practically free while being able to be with Andrew while he did his shows, and your new job was long distance anyway, so all you needed was wifi and somewhere to plug your laptop to charge.

You loved this tour life, everything about it was fun and exciting, though if you had to choose, your favourite moments, or at least the one where you had the most fun, were when you were alone with Andrew, either in his bedroom in the tour bus, a restaurant, or, like right now, backstage before a concert, where you could tease him endlessly and maybe even have a bit of fun if you were fast enough.

Today though, you were playing with fire, sitting on the couch of his dressing room backstage after he’d changed into his concert outfit. You looked him up and down as he checked himself in the mirror, a smile on your face and a plan in your mind already getting started.

“I love this suit on you.” You said softly as you walked up to him, your arm reaching to hold onto his. He smiled, avoiding your grip and placing his hand on your lower back.

“Do you, baby?” He teased with a smirk.

“Yeah, it looks so good.” You looked up at him with puppy eyes and feigned innocence, wanting your next words to take him by surprise. “Can you fuck me with it on? Please?”

His eyes widened, a laugh escaping him as he processed what you’d just said. “Maybe,” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “But it’ll have to wait until after the concert.”

“Unfair.” You whined, your hands moved to his belt, playfully pulling at it without actually undoing it.

“Baby, don’t.” He scolded you, though you felt his hips buckle towards you, his smirk never going away.

“I’m not doing anything.” You protested.

“Liar, you’re trying to tempt me.” His eyes wandered your face and body, his smile widening when he felt your hand moving to palm his crotch, his cock already hardening. “You know I have to be on stage in less than thirty minutes, we can’t do this right now.” He said firmly, though he had no intention of stopping you, or himself, his hand already moving from your lower back to your ass, squeezing it roughly.

“So? We can be quick.”

“Not with how you’re behaving.”

“What do you mean?” You teased, rubbing your hand over his clothed cock, feeling it hardening more and more by the second. You moved your hand to his waistband, easily slipping it under his pants despite the belt, you wondered why he even wore it in the first place if he wasn’t going to fasten it correctly.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.” He warned you as he leaned down to kiss you, though you both knew it wasn’t a serious warning.

“I love fire.” You giggled, then moved your hand lower until it was wrapped around his cock as best you could, pumping it slowly.

Andrew let go of your ass and grabbed the table behind you for stability, he moaned under his breath, his eyes fluttering closed. You smiled, moving your other hand to the back of his head and pulling him down until his neck was up to your mouth, where you started peppering kisses. He moaned into your shoulder, his hips buckling ever so slightly as you jerked him off.

His phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a notification that you both promptly ignored. It was a message from the stage manager, he had ten minutes before he had to go on stage. His left hand gripped the table while his right moved under your shirt, caressing your skin and lightly scratching it with his nails. You fastened your movements, his moans becoming more high-pitched. Your hand moved painfully slow, wanting to drag this out for as long as you could.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he ordered, his voice raspy, “use your pretty mouth on me.” You shook your head.

“Can’t,” you whispered against his neck. “Someone might come in, this is safer.”

“Don’t care.” He let out a strangled moan as he spoke. “Please.”

Hearing him beg was a rare sight, the way his voice cracked and his whole body shook with desire stirred up something in you, your lips continued to kiss all over his neck, careful not to leave any bites or marks so he wouldn’t have any while he was performing. His hips buckled lightly into your hand, he was close, you slowly moved your free hand to his pants with the intent of pulling them down so he wouldn’t ruin his suit, the universe had other plans though. Someone knocked on the door and started turning the handle, your hand flew out of Andrew’s underwear and he quickly fixed his trousers as his manager came in.

“Jesus christ, Andrew!” She screamed, marching over to him with haste, “you’re late! Everyone’s waiting for you, let’s go!”

Andrew followed after her, not before kissing your cheek and winking at you, a silent way to tell you this little game wasn’t over yet. You composed yourself and walked out of the dressing room a couple minutes after, taking Andrew’s clothes to the tour bus since he hadn’t had the time to take them there himself thanks to you. You ran to the side of the stage right after, you sat on top of a box as you heard him sing, he was halfway through a song, almost a third through the concert, but he was still as hard as when you last touched him, you smiled to yourself, the outline of his cock only obvious to you thanks to the patchwork suit he was wearing.

Andrew looked at you, his face lighting up with a mix of happiness and lust, he kept stealing glances at you throughout the show, all until he started playing Angel of Small Death, specifically closer to the guitar solo, you could see him getting very into it, he was making faces you knew too well, practically moaning into the microphone before he finally stepped away to do the solo, getting too much into it again, his eyes almost glazed over as they found yours, and then, he threw his head back, biting his lips, he’d just came, on stage, in front of thousands of people, he knew, you knew, you both prayed no one else did. He went back to the microphone to finish the song, his voice more whimpery and rougher than before, his legs were shaking ever so slightly, he had turned fidgety and his face was practically red. You had to close your legs together and bite the inside of your cheeks to stop a moan from escaping, and to make things worse, he was still hard.

The rest of the concert went by too slowly, almost torturously so, but it finally ended, Andrew bowed and took a picture with the band, quickly leaving the stage and walking towards you, ignoring everyone else. His eyes bore into you, they were burning, and you didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing for you. He grabbed your arm, dragging you along with him to somewhere else, a few people tried stopping him to talk, but he quickly dismissed them with whatever the shortest excuse was, though after the fourth person, no one else approached him.

He took you to the tour bus you shared with him, closing the door behind him and lowering all the blinds. A silence fell, the tension palpable in the air.

“Did you actually..?” You asked, trying to fight a giggle.

“You already know.” He replied bluntly, his eyes full of fire. “Don’t laugh, or else.”

“Sorry,” you bit your lip, putting on puppy eyes to see if that would reduce the punishment you already knew was coming.

“Don’t even try with the eyes, they’re not working,” he grabbed your waist roughly, his nails digging into your skin though your clothes. “Anything to say for yourself before I start telling you what’s gonna happen next?”

“Can I clean you up?” You asked, still trying not to laugh, “please, sir? I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Liar.” His grip on you tightened, his voice almost a growl. “I can tell you’re trying not to laugh, you little brat.”

You looked up at him, unable to say anything even though you wanted to, he leaned into your neck, nipping at it lightly.

“You’re going to clean me up, yes, but then I’m going to use that pretty mouth you have,” he whispered into your ear, “and I’ll see about maybe letting you get off after if I feel like it. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.” You bit your lip, practically shaking with excitement.

“Good girl, now go to the bedroom and get on your knees at the foot of the bed.” He ordered, lightly smacking your ass as you left.

He followed suit, taking off his patchwork jacket and unbuttoning his shirt on the way. You kneeled on the spot he told you, he undid his belt and took off his pants, he examined the inside of them as he sat on the bed in front of you, you laid your head on his thigh, your eyes focused on the outline of his still hard cock in his boxer briefs, a dark spot on them from when he came on stage. He groaned lightly, muttering under his breath. “Six-hundred euros just to get cum on them…” He threw them off to somewhere else in the room afterwards, you didn’t know or care where exactly.

“Look at you, so pretty with your head on my lap.” He caressed your hair lovingly, his voice now soft.

You leaned into his touch like a cat, your eyes looking up into his, silently asking for permission to start.

“Go on, take off my boxers and clean me up, be good for me, baby.” He smiled, lifting his hips just enough for you to completely take off his underwear. His cock sprung free, fully hard and covered in his cum. You moved your mouth closer, licking off the remains of his orgasm off his balls before moving to his shaft, Andrew moaned softly, his hand still on your hair, scratching at your head as he held onto it. His spent travelled down your throat as you licked him completely clean, your happy humming almost like a song to Andrew, you kissed his cock along your way, worshipping him in the process. A few moans escaped him as you used your hand to jerk him slightly, just to make sure you got him as clean as possible.

Once finished, you kissed his tip, making him hiss through his teeth, you knew exactly what he wanted the second he pulled your head closer to himself. Your mouth opened, your hands guiding his cock to your mouth, you bobbed your head slightly up and down, still not deepthroating him. You hummed as you took him in your mouth, he moaned without restraint.

“That’s it, good girl, my perfect little slut, you love this don’t you?” He panted softly, throwing his head back for a few moments as more moans escaped him. His grip on your hair tightened, his hand starting to guide your head to take him deeper into your mouth. You let him take control of your movements, holding your thumb in your fist to get rid of your gag reflex as he sped up. Drool ran down your chin as the sound of Andrew’s moans filled up the room.

He suddenly pulled your head away, standing up from the bed and pulling your head so it was at the same height as his hips.

“I want to fuck your mouth properly, are you okay with that, baby?” He asked, barely able to restrain himself.

“When have I not been?” You teased, smiling wide.

“That’s not an answer, do you want this yes or no?” He said sternly, his cock just inches from your face.

“Yes.” You answered, your mouth watering. He immediately pushed himself into your mouth, letting out a loud groan. He pushed you all the way, your nose pressed against the trimmed curls at the base of his cock.

“What’s the safeword for when you’re like this?” He asked, wanting to make sure you remembered how to stop if you needed it. You moved your hand up and tapped on his thigh, he smiled. “Very good.”

He started thrusting into your mouth, starting slow and careful but quickly losing control, he fucked your mouth with wild abandon, his balls slapping against your chin. His moans were loud and rough, he’d lost all care for if someone could hear him, he was completely lost in your warmth. “You feel so fuckin’ good baby, god i love your mouth so much, my perfect little cocksleeve, fuck!” His rhythm started to falter, his thrusts becoming erratic and twitchy. He was close, you both knew it, and after just a few more thrusts, he pushed all the way into your mouth and spilled himself down your throat, you swallowed everything you could.

Andrew pulled out of your mouth slowly and carefully, hissing when your teeth accidentally scraped his cock just the tiniest bit. He caressed your hair, almost petting you, you leaned into his hand, absolutely loving the simple affection. “Was I good?” You asked, your voice slightly hoarse.

“You were perfect,” he smiled, pulling you up to your feet, and kissing you lovingly. “Do you need anything, water, cuddles, an orgasm?”

You laughed softly at his last suggestion, “I would love that last one, actually.”

“Thought you would,” he smiled, kissing you again. His hands moved to your waistband, starting to pull down your pants. “How do you want it?”

“Eat me?” You asked, taking off your shirt.

“With pleasure.” He replied, taking off your bra as you stepped off your remaining clothes. Andrew smiled, throwing you into bed and climbing over you, only to start kissing down your neck and collarbone. “You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for long.” He added with a soft growl.

“Yeah?” You teased, moaning softly.

“Yes, I shouldn’t be doing this right now.” He left a hickey on your collarbone, kissing down to your breasts, sucking one of your nipples before speaking again. “I should be leaving you begging for me after that little number you pulled earlier.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you moaned, a cheeky smile on your face. “Ah!” You whined after he lightly bit your now hard nipple.

“Don’t try me, love.” He warned you, you nodded. He kissed all the way down to your mound, nuzzling his nose and lips into your bush before he fully settled between your legs, licking your pussy and moaning at the taste.

You moaned loudly as he licked you, his face completely buried in you. He moved slightly lower and pushed his tongue into you, fucking you with it as his nose pressed into your clit. You moved your hips slowly, trying to get some more friction, but Andrew stopped it quickly, his hands moving to hold down your hips. He shook his head for a second, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Andy! Fuck! Oh my god!” You practically whined, trying to move your hips once more only for his arms to push down with more force. Your hands moved to his hair, holding onto it like a lifeline, you pulled him closer, he chuckled. His beard scratched at your inner thighs as he doubled his efforts, moving his face more since he knew you loved it when his nose rubbed against your clit. Your legs started to shake, your breathing became erratic and whiny, your moans turned more and more high pitched until you finally came undone, your whole lower body twitching with pleasure and your mind foggy with bliss. Andrew didn’t stop until your moans turned into whines from overstimulation, when he did, his face was soaked with your essence.

He climbed back up your body, laying down next to you and pulling you close, you melted into his arms, he kissed you all over your face, the last one on your lips.

“You’re banned, indefinitely, from being in my dressing room with me before a show from now on, by the way.” He said into your hair.

“Why? Do you hate me?” You teased, unable to stop your giggle.

“No, you dramatic baby, I love you a lot.” He pinched your cheek, smiling lovingly. “But I’m not risking cumming on stage again just because you like to play with me.”

“I didn’t even do it on purpose, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “I love you, too, by the way.”

“I know,” he kissed your cheek. “And I know,” he added in a whisper, kissing your lips again.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

autism levels, few “often get wrong” points need highlight again

[transcript: autism levels, few “often get wrong” points need highlight again]

^ masterpost by birdofmay for more basic stuff no able explain rn, like “what are levels” “how determine levels”

autism levels about how much support you need for autism specific symptoms—specifically, two autism criteria, social communication & restrictive repetitive.

not how much you feel like you struggle

levels compare you to all autistics. not allistic neurotypical nondisabled people.

level 1 mean “need support.” level 1 can struggle. unsupported burnt out level 1 can struggle a lot. unfortunately level 1 can be miserable in life.

not able finish school, not able drive, not able keep job, need help cant live independent—none of that automatic level 2 & 3. none of that automatic mean not level 1. know many people who level 1 who all that. level 2&3 people tend more common be those thing because autism symptoms cause very big struggle. but autism levels not actual about any of that.

autism levels is DSM 5 thing. country no use DSM 5 not get levels. countries use DSM 5, sometimes doctor still not assign levels, because that doctor don’t use levels, or level 1 & just leave out write.

autism level is official diagnosis thing. different from self diagnosing autism itself (which for lsn/level 1/etc have many resources about what it like, community, and like. not life risky), autism level really not same and not recommend self diagnose, to put nicely. because it about amount official support need, & limited info about level 2/3 (yes, even if look like many of us on tumblr, still very few), and because that most people never actual met entire autism spectrum met actual level 3 in person not to mention enough to be good sample size, so most have understanding of autism & autism levels that heavily lean to level 1, wrongly think any struggle w autism mean level 2 or 3. put in plainly, most you all don’t know don’t see enough about higher levels to actual label correctly (this actual include level 2/3 people—although yes personal experience, but that one experience).

many level 2 & 3 diagnose as that because we need the official support. for not die, for physical survive, and/or for basic quality of life. it not fun little label to collect to call self unfortunately

also, i say a lot of level 2/3 i abbreviate put them together because online autism community not often include both. but level 2 & 3 can be quite different quite far not “basic same thing”

autism level describe general average symptom & support needed

autism level can change over entire life, like born level 3 but adult now & level 2 or even 1(rare), or born level 1 & now adult level 2.

autism levels cannot change over hours days or short term in general. cannot “level 1 good day & level 3 bad day.” not even “last (few) month level 3 this (few) month level 1.”

autism levels not same as functioning labels. although can be use in same ableist way people use functioning labels. but fault is ableism. (remind that some people do self ID as low functioning after their diagnose and that okay)

autism level is not perfect and need improve

autism level important & needed especially for many of us who need many support or our autism symptom very big or struggle communicate.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

seven degrees east - chapter three

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairings: multiple Rating: T (may change) Chapter: 3 / ? Word Count: 4075

read on tumblr: one | two

The roof was considered an obvious and necessary extension of the dorms. Which was to say, the boys were not encouraged to spend time up there, but it was widely acknowledged by the administration to be an inevitability. Which was to say, there was a standing rule that they were not allowed on the roof, but it was understood to exist for insurance purposes only. Which was to say, the rule had been enforced before, but not in a way that singled out any one student’s rooftop proclivities. Which was to say, John Egan, specifically, had been banned, and, yes, the photograph from his school record had been used on the poster taped to the roof-access door. Which was to say, the boys had taken to reaching the roof via the decidedly more dangerous yet not technically banned route of climbing out their windows and getting a foothold on the sill.

It was already after dinner when Crosby decided to swing his legs out the window and scale the wall. He preferred to do this with Bubbles, who he trusted implicitly to map the wall with his eyes on the fly and find the best handholds, but Bubbles was at the library, likely sniffling in the stacks. He had come down with a small cold, and Crosby had urged him to stay in bed. Unfortunately, he suspected it had been his offer to make dinner that had caused Bubbles to flee. Crosby tried not to mind. They were frequently at playful odds over exactly what constituted a “good meal.” Crosby had no defense for his Bagel Bites, but maintained that they wouldn’t put “Chef” in front of “Boyardee” if the canned ravioli wasn’t imbued with superior nutritional and gastronomic value. Bubbles vocally doubted that Jean, Crosby’s long-distance girlfriend, would agree.

Rosie was smoking on the roof when Crosby scrambled up. As their eyes met, Crosby offered a meek and panicked smile, which Rosie correctly interpreted to mean Help! Rosie tucked the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and leant down to give Crosby a hand. Crosby’s shoes came scrabbling up brick, then slipping across the gritty surface of the roof. Rosie released him, laughing, once Crosby had found his footing.

“You probably don’t want to try that alone again,” Rosie observed, plucking the cigarette from his lips and exhaling into the wide sky that arched above their heads.

“No shit,” Crosby panted. He eyed Rosie. “Thanks.”

Rosie shrugged this off. He waved his carton in offering, but Crosby patted the back pocket of his jeans to indicate he’d brought his own smokes.

“Nice job on the seminar today,” he offered, lighting up.

It was Rosie’s turn to reply, “Thanks.”

Neither of them had counted on the company, but, equally, neither was bothered by it. They smoked in silence. Rosie watched Crosby like he was waiting to see what he would do next. Crosby watched the smoke from their cigarettes, how it trailed and dwindled in the air, how it looked dirty and hazy against the prolonged light of a summer evening. He felt that it polluted the world, that he, himself, was an irritant in the eye of the nature that beheld him. But self-loathing was just the kind of thing a guy felt, Crosby knew, when his shoes were tied a little tight, or he hadn’t eaten a vegetable in a while, or he had to go looking for fun without his best friend.

Rosie wasn’t sure he had a best friend. He had admirers—some for his scholastic confidence, many for his mustache—and he appreciated the respect with which he was treated, but he did sometimes feel as if he were in a place the others weren’t. (He had pondered this deeply while standing alone on the roof.) In a way, it made him feel adaptive, flexible, primed. It also gave him probably too much opportunity to heft unnecessary weight onto his own shoulders, to summon into existence pressures that would strain but not quite break the idea of himself that he believed in: tireless, committed, an emotional island. Rosie didn’t see that he felt much the same as they all did, but then none of them did. All listening too hard to their own tell-tale hearts to realize no one else would ever hear them if they didn’t make a noise.

Exhaling until he couldn’t see the smoke from his third cigarette in his breath, Rosie turned his body towards Crosby to indicate that he wanted to speak. He cleared his throat for good measure.

“You wanna rent a movie tonight?”

Crosby picked the cigarette from between his lips like he was picking food from his teeth. There was a showy machismo in the sharp line of his movement, like he thought about closing his fist around the cigarette so the tip would burn his palm, just to give him some little pain to endure. The motion was too deliberate, a little stupid, and Rosie’s slight smile reminded Crosby of that much. Rosie wouldn’t say anything outright though, lest they find themselves in a Mexican standoff—Crosby and his touches of noir versus Rosie and the mustache which stood as a symbol for his allegedly mournful, tortured soul.

“Yeah, sure,” Crosby said with a shrug.

“Cool. I’ll grab Nash.”

“Nash is gonna want a Meg Ryan flick.”

“So?” Rosie stared at him. “They can’t all be Lauren Bacall, Croz. At least try to pick an actress from this half of the twentieth century. Julia Roberts?”

Crosby made a sound of partial assent, then narrowed his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter though, does it? You’re just gonna overrule us and pick whatever the hell you want to see anyway.”

Rosie grinned.

“I drive, I pick.”

“I hate how that works,” Crosby grumbled.

“I know you do,” Rosie said, patting him on the shoulder.

—

“Adapt or die,” Bubbles said, settling himself before one of Thorpe Abbotts’ two new Macintoshes and depressing the power button. His voice was cottony due to his stuffed-up nose.

“Die,” John decided.

He didn’t spare the Mac so much as a sideways glance, continuing to knock out his essay on the same electronic typewriter he always used. The school wanted to appear cutting-edge—especially to the British universities they continually sensed, correct or not, were breathing scornfully down their necks—and this time, John had had to haul the typewriter from the closet at the end of the space increasingly referred to as the “computer room.” It wasn’t a perfect machine, but John preferred to grapple with the devil he knew rather than submit before the unexplored complexities of a sleeker word processor. Where was the glory in that? Where was the struggle? The allure of the logo on the front of the Macintosh was wasted on John, who thought Eve’s theft of the apple had more style than Thorpe Abbotts’ foisting of the new technology upon its students.

They weren’t supposed to smoke in there, but John had the window cracked, and he flapped a hand to fan the smoke from his cigarette towards it as he paused to review what he’d typed so far. It would do, he thought. If it provoked Professor Harding’s urge to murder him back out of its currently dormant state, so be it. John liked his enemies where he could see them. Except in a mirror.

The truth was, he’d been wrestling back some impulses since Gale had shared news of his and Marge’s breakup. Impulses to avoid Gale, impulses to stand at his elbow and wait to be noticed. It made John’s skin itch, this newly single Buck Cleven, with his hair like American wheat.

“What’s Buck gonna do?” Bubbles suddenly asked.

John stiffened. Ash flaked onto his fingers before he brushed it into the primeval coffee cup he was using as an ashtray.

“What?”

“Well, is he a luddite like you?” Bubbles wondered, nodding towards John’s typewriter.

John exhaled slowly.

“We’ll see.”

“He should get his essay typed up soon,” Bubbles said. “Always takes longer than you think. Maybe he’s distracted thinkin’ about the breakup.”

John drew smoke into his lungs to calm himself, then scratched at the side of his head like Bubbles’ remark was something he could scrape from the surface of his brain.

“Nah, Buck’s fine.”

“He’s lucky he has you.”

Bubbles made sure his eyes were on the Mac’s brightening screen when he felt John turn to look at him. He didn’t think he shouldn’t have said it, but he didn’t want John’s expression to make him feel like he needed to backtrack or add a joking insult so they—specifically John—could move past it without having to accept that Bubbles had intended it genuinely. You didn’t just tell a guy to value the closeness of his friendships, point out that those friends valued him in turn. Bubbles knew nobody thought of him as particularly risky, particularly brave. That was how he got away with it, his sincerity slipping in under their radar. And while they were thinking about themselves, they would never notice that he had a vested interest, that he counted himself luckiest of all to have Crosby as the other pea in his two-pea pod.

Before John could insist on a confrontation on the battlefield of his feelings for Gale, he saw Ken Lemmons walk past the doorway.

“Yo! Lemmons!” he shouted.

Ken re-entered his line of sight walking backwards and looking both quizzical and ready. He usually did look like that; an undergrad with a possibly bottomless bag of mechanical and technological tricks, Ken had become a dogsbody around campus. If he couldn’t immediately fix whatever needed fixing, he didn’t require long to figure it out. He’d gotten a job locally that summer instead of going home to the States. Everyone who knew or knew of Ken Lemmons felt the luckier for it.

“Egan,” Ken greeted with a grin, gripping the doorframe and leaning into the room. “Bubbles.”

“How’s the wife?” Bubbles inquired.

“She’s great, thanks, Bubbles.”

The fact that Ken, just 19 years of age, was a married man should perhaps have triggered in them some instinct to defer to his emotional maturity. Instead, it only made them feel more fatherly towards him, and, incidentally, act more childish.

“What the hell have they got you running around for now?” John demanded teasingly. “Go enjoy your fuckin’ summer. You should be at a rave or a topless beach or something.”

“Lotta those in England, you think?” Ken joked back. His feet and attention shifted. “Printer’s on the fritz.”

“Don’t you worry too much,” Bubbles soothed. “The summer edition of the journal isn’t that important.”

“Tell that to Kidd.”

“Yeah,” John said, gaze wandering back to his essay. “Jack’s probably sweating bullets.”

“Sure is. Poor bastard. You’d know if you ever took a position on the journal.”

“Nah. I’m just one of the people, Ken. I don’t want to run shit.”

Ken shrugged.

“Got some empty pages too,” he said in a hopeful tone, glancing between John and Bubbles. “Either of you have an essay you want to put in?”

John grunted noncommittally—it took him a long time to know what to think of his own work—but Bubbles said, “I’ll talk to Croz. I think he might write something.”

“Sounds good.”

“Don’t say anything to Kidd yet,” Bubbles added quickly. “Croz might get a little… nervous if he thinks Kidd’s waitin’ on him.”

Ken gave him a loose salute in understanding and pushed out of the doorframe, hurrying down the hall once more.

Bubbles released a massive sneeze and collapsed over his keyboard, forehead nudging the mouse aside. John shot him a look.

“Don’t get that thing sick.”

“Your computer virus jokes are tired,” Bubbles mumbled.

But they seemed to invigorate John, who began to type rapidly as the setting sun blazed through the window. The shadows of his hands were jumping spiders. Bubbles watched them as he summoned the strength to begin transposing his own essay.

—

It was foolish for more than three of them to attempt to decide on one movie. It was foolish for three, or even two. Nash wandered the aisles of the video store, the protective coating on the empty VHS cases too shiny and bright under the fluorescents. He wouldn’t try to pick anything until Rosie and Crosby squabbled at the check-out. That first squabble was only ever the opening salvo; they would then sigh their way back into the aisles under the disinterested gaze of the minimum-wage kid at the register, feeling the pressure (that wasn’t really there) to make a better selection. Even that would not necessarily be the moment for Nash to insert his own filmic preferences. He would wait and see. The key was to pounce in the moment when both his friends were feeling highly frustrated by the impasse, solving the problem with the simple solution of offering the movie neither of them wanted to see (Nash’s first choice du jour).

Yes, they could have rented more than one video, but they didn’t. They never did.

Nash stood and contemplated the latest Scorsese; he and Gale had once talked for an hour of their love for the director’s Age of Innocence adaptation, but Nash wasn’t sure about Casino. Seemed like more of a Crosby thing. Nash was lifting his gaze to the genre signs positioned along the top of each aisle when he spotted something more compelling: girls. Two—no, three—girls clustered by the far wall, chatting as they perused the titles. All three were brunette and Nash’s heart fluttered hopefully as he thought of Helen, the memory of her dark waves pulling at him like a current. (John had been going on about Gatsby lately, repeating the final lines with a rhythmic insistence that had formerly threatened to put Nash to sleep but now seemed to assist in holding him in hypnotic stillness.) Without looking away from them, Nash reached out with the empty copy of Casino. There was a plasticky clatter as he fumbled the case back onto the shelf.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Crosby asked, coming down the aisle—a witness to Nash’s episode.

“I think—”

Nash stopped speaking as quickly as he’d begun and cleared his throat. She’d turned her head, laughing; it was Helen. The world was a good place, the arc of history bending towards justice and peace and harmony amongst all people. Nearly thirty years prior, humans had walked on the moon, and tonight, Nash would be reunited with that beautiful girl from that one night at the bar—a miracle even Kennedy would not have had the balls to prophesize. Nash wished he were wearing a nicer shirt, but he smoothed a hand down the front of the baggy sweatshirt he’d—at some point—borrowed from the laundry hamper of John or Curt or maybe Crank, over winter semester, and blindly pressed Crosby aside to clear his path to her.

Crosby gave Nash a head start before alerting Rosie, because he recalled how Rosie had shouted at this girl (by Nash’s transfixed reaction, he assumed it was the same girl) across the bar, embarrassing Nash. But, because Crosby was also preparing to be greatly entertained by the scene that promised to play out, he needed Rosie to join his audience. What were friends for if not laughing at other friends’ awkward attempts at romance? It was necessary to physically remove Hitchcock’s Rebecca from Rosie’s hands, but Crosby got his attention.

“Our boy’s lovesick so often it’s practically a chronic condition,” Rosie pronounced, grinning.

“Yeah, too bad we’re all studying to be the wrong kind of doctor,” Crosby added.

As much as they loved to rib Nash for putting himself out there so very frequently that he could rarely be considered in, they watched, slightly awed, as Nash confidently approached the girl and was greeted with a wide smile after her initial surprise.

“Huh,” they said together.

“Well, we’re not letting Nash have all the fun,” Rosie decided, smacking the back of his hand into Crosby’s chest to get him moving.

Nash didn’t mind his friends joining him. He didn’t mind Helen’s friends looking on, or that they would almost certainly talk about him as soon as he left their vicinity. Only the way Helen was looking at him was important, and she was doing that with a gaze that didn’t wander, that didn’t light up with greater interest when Crosby locked his puppy-dog browns on her, Rosie his glittering blues. Helen just went back to looking at Nash, talking to Nash, and soon, they had drifted slightly apart from the others, engaging in a lively conversation about Meg Ryan’s filmography. When Herbert Met Helen, Nash thought, entirely captivated by Helen, from the toes of her Mary Janes to the lettuce-edged sleeves of the t-shirt she wore beneath her spaghetti-strap dress.

Rosie was alarmed by his dissipating impulse to humiliate Nash. He’d only come over to keep Nash humble, and to make sure the girl—Helen—who’d caught his friend’s eye twice now seemed worthy of Nash’s at least momentary captivation. He hadn’t counted on Helen’s friend. Very quickly, he’d learned that she went by “Liss,” considering the name that’d been passed down from her grandmother old-fashioned, that she was studying law, and that the way she combed her fingers through her straight-across bangs while she talked was damn cute. Really fucking cute. Rosie forgot about Nash, about Crosby, about Hitchcock. The Flaming Lips’ “When You Smile” poured distantly through the video store speakers and Rosie realized he might be falling into love at first sight—and that it came with none of the doom reading Poe had foretold.

In contrast, Crosby felt he was having everything his hard-boiled books had ever taught him about women confirmed. Had Rosie not been otherwise occupied and noticed Crosby with Helen’s other companion, he would’ve said, Whoa, Croz. He would’ve said, Careful. Because there was Jean, back home, and Crosby wasn’t thinking about her at all as he watched Sandra bite the end off a string of red licorice.

“You’re supposed to pay for those first,” he said, glancing at the other movie snacks by the check-out, their packages stacked in neat rows.

Sandra’s lipstick was as red as the licorice and Crosby swallowed when she did, watching her mouth spread into an unconcerned smile.

“Don’t I look trustworthy?” she asked him, and Crosby felt a rush of sympathy for every detective who’d ever been drawn in by a femme fatale. Which was exactly what he’d determined this girl to be. If he were correct, he should’ve grabbed the boys and run—but then, if he were correct, Crosby figured, it was probably already too late.

As Sandra looked back at him, not knowing about Jean or Chandler or Hammett and seeing only a young man with expressive dark eyes full of seductive fatalism, she thought, Why not? and offered Harry Crosby a long piece of licorice.

—

Inside, they’d gotten so stoned they couldn’t remember what they were talking about, and so Curt and Gale had decided to climb to the roof for fresh air that would clear their heads. The evening was warm and breezy, but Gale loved the wind, and Curt tended to roll with the circumstances as they presented themselves. Which didn’t mean the way he’d flailed onto the roof was graceful.

After a while, they’d picked out the loose thread of their last conversation. Like many conversations the boys had, this one landed on a book recommendation as predictably as a plastic Life car landed on “Taxes due.” Curt was trying to sell Gale on the works of James Baldwin. He was a cheerful inebriate, confident that all his points were compellingly made and that his audience was keen to hear them. He was touchy as well, tugging Gale’s sleeve when he talked about Baldwin’s voice. Gale didn’t mind this, since he roomed with John, who was far touchier. That was at least half the reason he was smiling as Curt talked, the weed he’d smoked helping him construct little mental sandcastles and wash them away again: John’s elbow on his shoulder as he asked what Gale, sitting at their desk, wanted to add to the grocery list; John’s foot prodding Gale’s hip to tell him to change the channel even though he was sitting sideways on the couch, reading instead of watching TV; John’s hand on Gale’s knee, then his thigh, the other day in Harding’s class, not long before Gale had named the woodchopper.

Like wet sand, the woodchopper and John got mashed together in Gale’s head as he listened to Curt launch into his pitch for Gale to read Giovanni’s Room.

“It doesn’t matter that he’s gay,” Curt was saying.

“Of course it matters that he’s gay,” Gale countered.

“No, like, it matters, but—”

“What the hell else matters?”

“It’s bigger than that! It’s about what it means to be a man,” Curt insisted. “Socialization, alienation, internalization…”

“If you throw one more ‘ation’ at me, I’m pushing you off the roof,” Gale warned waggishly.

“It’s fucking Baldwin, man! He had his thumb on the fucking pulse!”

“His finger, not his thumb. You can feel your pulse in your thumb, so using it to find a pulse doesn’t work.”

“Whatever,” Curt said, grinning and waving him off. “Fucking pedant. Read your fuckin’ Baldwin.”

“Never said I wouldn’t,” Gale asserted.

“Good.”

Curt gently patted his pockets. He couldn’t remember if he’d brought a joint to the roof or left all the ones he’d rolled on the table. He also didn’t want to stow one in his pocket and forget about it. He’d definitely made a mistake tossing a pair of jeans in the wash in the past.

“It’s just that Brideshead Revisited is a little more up my street,” Gale added.

“Oh, fuckin’ BRIDESHEAD REVISITED,” Curt shrieked, setting Gale laughing quietly. “You can’t even tell those assholes are gay!”

“’Course you can,” Gale argued at a lower volume. “If you’re paying attention. You can tell if you’re paying attention.”

Curt, who was paying even less attention in that moment than he had been while reading the novel, said, “Fuckin’ EVELYN WAUGH!”

Gale shook his head in amusement. Happening to glance out away from the building atop which they were perched like eaglets in their eyrie, he saw Rosie, Nash, and Crosby ambling towards the dorms from the rear parking lot.

“BOYS!” Gale called down sharply.

Three faces tilted up towards the address. Crosby threw up an instinctive middle finger that Curt heartily returned.

“Meet you inside?” Rosie shouted back.

“My place!” Curt offered, receiving Rosie’s nod.

Gale lived with John, Nash with Rosie, and Crosby with Bubbles, who Curt knew to be sick at present. Curt lived with no one. Well, he lived with Dickie, but Dickie wouldn’t be back until the fall. Technically, Curt should have been getting charged more in residence fees living as a bachelor for four months, but between being well liked by faculty and staff, and the students who’d elected to remain on campus through the summer knowing Curt was shy about neither bringing guests back to his room nor the type and amount of noise that emanated from such visits, he paid the same as he did when he had a roommate. He tended to be quite smug about it. Regardless, his friends didn’t complain; they’d have happily paid less and did not begrudge Curt his good fortune. Curt’s temporary lack of roommate also made his dorm the perfect place to go whenever any of them were annoyed with their own. Anyway, Curt loved to host.

When he got all the boys inside, sprawled over his furniture, he found that the air on the roof had un-addled him a bit, but not enough to easily follow the trio of narratives unfolding at once. There was Nash gushing about finally getting Helen’s number and Rosie wearing a dopey smile while he explained about Liss and the haunted and yet lustful look in Crosby’s eyes when he talked about Sandra and—

“Who the fuck are all these girls?” Curt cut in.

“You met them at the video store?” Gale, who had caught slightly more, clarified. “What’d you rent?”

Crosby, Rosie, and Nash glanced at one another’s dreamy eyes and empty hands.

It was Crosby who voiced their joint realization: “Uhhh… we forgot.”

[azus-reyan]

Entry 7: I Use AI, so what?

I’ve come across creators and artists who swear by a zero-AI policy.

I get it, and not long ago, I would have agreed with them. But something happened: AI got better.

Every industry has been feeding this beast, and it was only a matter of time before it got freakishly good. So good that it’s putting people out of jobs. 

I get why people are angry about it. No one likes the idea of their job being automated. That’s a totally understandable reaction. But one that still ignores something important.

AI can’t do, and excuse my language, shit without humans. 

Sure, it’s taking over some roles, but there are spaces where it won’t even come close—namely, the creative sector.

Writing, music, painting, photography—these are the fields where AI sticks out like a sore thumb. You can spot an AI-made image from a mile away. It’s too clean, too stupid, or both. 

When it comes to writing, it gets repetitive and lacks the heart of what makes something human—creativity. So why do I use it?

Because it has its upsides

Here is the thing, I suck at editing.

I’ve been bad at it since I began writing seriously. 

For someone in my position, there are only three options: learn how to edit, hire a professional editor, or use AI. So I came up with a neat idea.

Why not get a better editor and learn how to edit—all at the low, low price of $0?

When used correctly, artificial intelligence can make that happen. To show you what I mean, I’ll share a glimpse of how I work.

This is a paragraph from one of the posts I’ve recently made.

The initial paragraph where it says ‘Original Paragraph’, is mine. No AI, no outside help, just raw human hands in action.

Then there is the suggested version, which is ChatGPT’s revised version. As you can see for yourself, there isn’t much difference between the two, only a slight change in flow.

But the most important part is the following section. ‘Why the changes’ section clearly outlines the alterations made and why. 

I’m not great at editing. I tend to add too many unnecessary words, make a lot of grammatical mistakes, and generally struggle with the technical side of writing. Plus, hiring a professional editor or teacher isn’t an option for me. So, using AI was a no-brainer.

Here is another example: 

Not much of a difference between the original and the revised, right?

It takes what's inherently human and kicks the kinks from it.

The main grunt work is done by yours truly, with my heart and soul, and then, said AI simply shapes it up a bit. 

Let's not forget that this is a tool of convenience like the thousands of others we’ve made before. 

Does it have downsides? Absolutely. But can it undermine human ingenuity? Absolutely not, unless we allow that to happen.

The stupid thing is here, with its own set of problems. Yes, it stole what others have worked hard for. I know very well it made some people homeless. But the irony is, humans are behind this tool every step of the way.

Like humans, It’s flawed. Like humans, it steals and displaces. But we’re learning the consequences, albeit slowly.

There are laws now for AI infringements and plagiarism. People are finding more ways to protect their work. And AI is being integrated into the workforce instead of replacing human hands.

I’ll say it again: AI is just a tool—a tool created by humans. And eventually, it will be part of our society, and you won’t even know the difference.

But for now, the only question that remains is: can this help you? 

For me, it’s a yes, In some ways. But if you see the issue from a different angle, then that is your choice and no one else. 

I came across a post here on Tumblr talking about how AI has 0 percent business in creative spaces. I prefer to say around 10 percent is where I draw the line. 

Not just editing but also brainstorming a cool idea. Or generating prompts, and offering an interesting perspective when I’m mulling something over. 

I sometimes sit and chat with ChatGPT like it’s a human being, and the insights it gives are just wild! Seriously, give it a shot.

But hey, that’s just me, what do you think?

Maybe you’ll convince a fellow creative to ditch AI. Or maybe you’ll think I’m not a writer for even considering it

Let me hear your thoughts in the comments.

[texasbama]

Hiya I know you're a safe space and I need to get this out, so sorry in advance 🙃.

I see how amazing canon bi buck is for the queer community and I don't mind how it happened in canon. But while I should be happy, I actually kind of feel like I'm mourning? I'm so attached to eddie, maybe unhealthily so, and the ensemble found family dynamic is what first brought me to the show. For a while it's been a struggle having the fandom basically shove buck into every spec or storyline and act like he is a perfect angel and the centre of the universe. But there was always the eddiezers and it was more balanced. But now literally EVERYBODY is all about buck and tommy. It feels like the rest of the show doesn't even exist. I know its only been a couple of days but going on social media now just makes me anxious and idk why really. I'm worried about future eddie storylines, I'm desperate for marisol to disappear, but the vibe is that now buck is bi nothing else matters, we've won apparently, who even cares about eddie or the other characters because buck kissed a man.

Also I'm sex-repulsed ace and people saying how if you don't like it you're a purist and an evangelical and homophobic and biphobic actually makes me feel like shit. I never really understood wanting two characters to have sex 'because why not', because I don't understand why anyone wants to ever lol. I can only read buddie smut in very specific scenarios and most of the time i skip even that. And the rhetoric in a lot of tumblr space recently makes me feel like a bad person for not being all for it 100%. I don't think I've explained myself well here but I tried. You don't have to reply or post this either, I just wanted to reach out to someone in fandom who won't jump down my throat for it 😅. 911 is kind of a hyperfixation of mine so even though I'm trying to stay away as much as possible so as to not make myself more upset but I have no idea what to do with myself otherwise 🫠. Thanks for reading and sorry for unloading on you

Please don’t apologize, im happy you felt like I was a safe space. Im gonna break this into two parts and I hope I can articulate myself correctly lol

1) the first few days after an episode, any episode but especially one like this, isn’t indicative of fandom as a whole. Emotions are heightened due to what happened in the episode. Everyone is screaming about something and it’s in your face ya know? This week something HUGE happened, so yes people are talking about it. It was to be expected. We must make space for people to be happy about it. It’s a beautiful thing and queer joy MUST be celebrated.

This show (for the most part) has done a beautiful job of giving each character their time to shine(some more so than others but thats a conversation for a different day). Coming off 7x04, yes the headline is Bi Buck. And it will continue to be for a while, but it’s important to remember that YOU curate your fandom experience. I don’t blame you at all for what you’re feeling, ESPECIALLY as an Eddie girlie(gn), like I get it! Trust me! I’ve had to carefully maneuver through some emotions this week myself. I’m human! But filtering and being able to step away is everything.

Being excited about the storyline and also hoping and wanting more from other storylines are two things that can be true at the same time. It’s not one or the other. Remember that.

2) im going to say this and just know the caps is because I am just passionate. I promise you, its yelling at you with love okay?

I know it is easier said than done, but don’t you EVER allow ANYONE on this fucking hellsite make you feel less than or that your asexuality is anything but 100% valid. YOU are valid, you hear me?

Okay. I had to make sure to say that first. Whew. Now. As for the fandom piece of it all, we have to remember that there levels to it. You are allowed to feel the way you feel about sex, BUT it’s also important to remember that sex positivity (and those who express it) is also a good and valid. If you feel like there are blogs that talk down to you, imply that YOU are homophobic or biphobic simply because YOU are not doing cartwheels about different sex acts, then block. Unfollow. Do whatever you need to. Those people are scum.

Listen to me *pulls you close*, this is always a safe space. You are a valid, your existence and experiences are valid. And anyone who makes you question that can fuck right off. And lastly, HAPPY ASEXUALITY DAY TO YOU SPECIFICALLY! MUAH! 💜🤍🩶🖤

[hollygl125]

On the adventure endgame, and why I support Sara leaving the lab:

From an inside-the-show perspective, I 110% support Sara’s decision to leave the lab to go off on an epic eco-adventure with Grissom, just as he once decided to leave the lab to go off on an epic eco-adventure with her.  I would totally make that choice in her circumstances.  From an outside-the-show perspective, I also support the narrative choice to have Sara and Grissom go off on an adventure together rather than stay together in Vegas.

While GSR-fic writing, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why I support this ending, so I’ve outlined some of the (terribly rambling) reasons below the cut.

I honestly—though, yes, I am somewhat embarrassed to admit it—love (the GSR of) “Immortality” (16): it’s its own little self-contained Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom love story of angst, yearning, wistful glances, and happy endings, and I have spent more time rewatching that last dock scene than I should willingly admit to anyone.  (And JF and WP are so beautiful together—so beautiful!)

I honestly—though, yes, I am somewhat embarrassed to admit it—love (the GSR of) “Immortality” (16): it’s its own little self-contained Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom love story of angst, yearning, wistful glances, and happy endings, and I have spent more time rewatching that last dock scene than I should willingly admit to anyone.  (And JF and WP are so beautiful together—so beautiful!)

But this also highlights how bizarre the whole later-season GSR storyline was.  These people were crazy for each other!  They had no conception of personal space!  They wanted nothing more than to stand on top of each other!  They wanted nothing more than to breathe each other’s air!

Of course, as an episode of CSI, “Immortality” (16) is also pretty ridiculous.  Whenever I get to the “you turned her heart” line I almost always have to pause the show for a minute just to digest the ridiculousness (or sometimes to do a little rant to myself or whoever’s near).

But (returning to the positive vibes here)….  According to Zuiker’s DVD commentary (if I’m remembering it correctly), the team had very little time or resources to put together the finale, plus all the sets had already been taken down.  (Is that right?)  Yet they gave us bomb tests and butterflies and bees and a boat (completely with a Moby Dick reference) and a happy ending to what was basically, in the end, the GSR story.  Zuiker also (again according to my memory of his DVD commentary) insisted on filming a scene I consider crucial to the ending and on editing out a scene that would have distracted from it.  So, overall, I’m very grateful.

Anyway, here’s why I like the adventure endgame:

*Speaking personally, for my own life, if I could use my background and skills to go off on an eco-adventure with the love of my life, I would 100% make that choice.  I will admit that bias.  (Maybe that’s the whole ballgame?  I’m not sure.)

*If I were Sara Sidle, and I could use my background and skills to go off on an eco-adventure with the love of my life, I again would 100% make that choice.  Making that choice is consistent with Sara’s characterization.

*Jorja Fox said long ago that she thought Sara would choose love over work: “Sara, by virtue of being a realist, is also very much a romantic. So I think if she really was in love with someone, and it came down to a choice between work and love, I think she’d go in the direction of love” (TV Guide, 2006).  (I definitely think WP was being coy in his answer to the same question.)

*In this case at least, love > job.  Specifically for Sara, as someone on Tumblr pointed out (I can’t find the reference right now), because of who she is, she is more likely to find another good, interesting, intellectually challenging job than she is to find another love, let alone another love of her life.  Man she’s loved quite madly for seventeen years is a pretty irreplaceable role.  It’s not like she’s choosing between some guy she met online a few weeks ago and a job for which she’s been working her whole life.

*Sara doesn’t have to choose between love and the job, though.  Grissom clearly wants to talk to her throughout “Immortality” (16) but doesn’t think he deserves to ask to be in her life again.  He would totally return to Vegas for her, but she wants to join him on the adventure.

(If he told her the only way for them to be together was for her to give up the job and follow him, that would be a completely different story, but that would also be totally inconsistent with his characterization and what “Immortality” (16) shows us.)

Moreover, once the two of them are back together, (1) he would not be good with either one of them getting anywhere near any bombs, and (2) they would be total partners in whatever adventure they undertook.

*Sara would want and enjoy an (eco-)adventure; she would not enjoy being lab director.

*Sara has proven herself, at a minimum, amenable to change.  She has previously picked up and moved her life on basically a moment’s notice.  Sara either picks up her whole life and leaves or threatens to do so on several occasions throughout the course of the show, so Sara either likes or is open to change (at least change she initiates—i.e., she is the agent of change, rather than change is imposed upon her).

*Sara is the most progressive of the CSIs.  She had (extremely dysfunctional, yes) hippie parents and spent most of her first three decades near or in San Francisco.  She cares about animals and wildlife, she’s a vegetarian, she likes vegetation, and she cares about the environment.  (In 2007, as shown in “Living Doll” (07x24), she drives a 2006 Toyota Prius II; at the time, the Prius, a hybrid, was among the cleanest vehicles sold in the United States on the basis of smog-forming emissions.)

*Sara has previously wanted an adventure (e.g., the Sea Shepherd, the Galapagos) and has acted accordingly (going off on a marine research vessel then doing research in the Costa Rican rainforest).

*Sara’s happy (work) place is doing fun science and investigations with Grissom, not doing administrative work while Grissom does something else in Vegas (even though Sara working as a CSI while Grissom does something else in Vegas would have been far preferable to what happened in the later seasons).  They like working together (and they’ve already wasted enough time they should have spent together).

*Sara would not enjoy being lab director, and I’m quite certain she knows it.  She doesn’t exactly look thrilled to be completing her application for the position.

Although later seasons of CSI made Russell both lab director and night shift supervisor, that’s not realistic for the top crime lab in the U.S. outside Quantico.  Lab director would be an administrative/managerial job.  Season 5 is more realistic.  As soon as Ecklie gets promoted to assistant lab director, he stops doing lab or field work (to the extent of refusing to cross the crime scene tape because then he would have to testify) and starts doing administrative and managerial tasks, as he explains at least a couple times throughout that season.

In “Nesting Dolls” (05x13), Sara tells Ecklie, “You couldn't hack it in the field, so you fail your way up”; similarly, in “Secrets & Flies” (06x06), in response to McKeen querying whether he might be interested in more responsibility or a promotion, Grissom says, “You know, Oscar Wilde once said, ‘Ambition is the last refuge of failure.’  I'm fine.  Thanks.”  Both Sara and Grissom like science and fieldwork and hate (and, honestly, probably have a fair bit of contempt for) the kind of work being lab director would entail.

I can’t see either Sara or Grissom wanting to rise above the position of shift supervisor.  I can see Sara enjoying a promotion that would give her more responsibility and autonomy in her role as a criminalist (which is how I understood the season 4 promotion for which she and Nick apply) but not one that takes her away from that work.  Hence it’s not all that surprising that in seasons 5-15 she never appears to try to rise up the ranks at all.

I also think Sara would have to contort and to suppress a lot of her personality, her instincts, and just generally herself for that kind of administrative/managerial role, and (though she could have succeeded if it were what she really wanted) it would ultimately have made her pretty miserable.

*Sara, if we’re being honest, does not at all have the experience necessary to be director of the top non-federal crime lab in the U.S.  (I love Sara!  But this is still true!)  Sara is a great criminalist!  Sara has no administrative or managerial experience!  Probably even Nick becoming a lab director in San Diego with only a couple years as assistant shift supervisor (a role from which he was demoted) under his belt is unrealistic.  But Sara, a known non-people person, with no relevant administrative or managerial experience, getting the job as director of the country’s top non-federal lab is beyond unrealistic.

Maybe going from CSI to lab director could make sense for someone who is clearly a gifted future administrator and manager (I honestly don’t know!), but that is not Sara.  That is maybe the opposite of Sara.  Sara is a shit-disturber.  Sara is awkward.  Sara’s brilliant manipulation of Nora Cross in CSIV, for example, is quite beyond what CSI Sara could pull off.  (Sure, she can persuade Grissom, but that’s because he never doesn’t want to sleep with her, and even then it took her years.)

Ecklie would have other internal options (the other shifts’ supervisors and assistant supervisors), he could look at external candidates, and he could appoint an interim director if he needed more time.  I’m not saying Sara could never become lab director (I think she could if she really wanted the position and seriously pursued it on a longer-term basis), but at the time of “Immortality” (16) she doesn’t have the necessary experience or even a demonstrated interest in that kind of role.

(Like, seriously, when Grissom says she deserves the promotion, that can only be because he sees little gold stars floating everywhere and hears symphonies playing every time he looks at her.)

*Sara being appointed lab director is so clearly an unrealistic contrivance for the sake of the finale plot that I can’t really care in the slightest that she gives up the job.  First, of course, there’s the two points above (she wouldn’t want or be qualified for the position).  Then there’s the timeline in “Immortality” (16).

Sara is completing her application at what I presume is the start of her shift (at the beginning of the finale).  That’s the same shift when the bomb goes off in the casino.  Russell gives her the case because she’s applying for the position.  He suggests it will help her application, even though, again, her competency as a criminalist really says nothing about her readiness to take on a high-level administrative/managerial role.

Based on their clothes (mostly, Sara’s striped t-shirt), they work on the case all night, all day, and through to the next night.  Then the next day (I presume it’s the next day based on Heather still wearing the same clothes from the day before), immediately after the case is solved, Sara gets the promotion.  This also coincidentally happens to be Russell’s last day, from the look of things (him packing up his to-go box).

Russell has clearly given prior notice of his departure, but Sara submits her application only maybe 36 hours before he is leaving, and, within those same 36 hours (while a crazy bombing plot is going on in the city and making international news), Ecklie hires her.

Being lab director is clearly an important role.  (In season 5, Ecklie gets a huge black-tie dinner with speeches just for being named assistant lab director).  The hiring of a lab director would absolutely be a more significant endeavour than this.

So, Sara applying for the job at the beginning of the episode and getting it at the end provides a nice framing for the episode.  Sara getting the promotion leads into a nice Sara/Grissom scene near the end.  Sara getting the promotion adds more suspense to the ultimate will they/won’t they question.  But, logistically speaking, it doesn’t work.

(As an aside, in terms of logistics, I think the story could have made more sense if they’d already chosen a new lab director and Ecklie was still just deciding who would step in as night-shift supervisor.  Sara’s running of the case would then have some significance, she’d maybe actually want that job, and she would presumably be sufficiently qualified to get that job.  They could still have found an excuse for the final photo-op—her having been the lead on the bombing case and then getting the promotion would make for a nice story.  It would also be an even clearer parallel with whatever promotion Grissom got (I think—this show is so muddled in places) at the beginning of the series.)

*Finales are often a time of transition.  Sara’s found family has largely moved on (or is moving on), and it makes sense for Sara to be doing the same.  I love workplace found families (The West Wing, Sports Night, Parks and Recreation, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Superstore, etc.), but finales often involve transitions (usually symbolizing personal growth) for the characters in those found families (The West Wing, Parks and Recreation, New Girl, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Superstore, etc.).  (Occasionally characters realize they shouldn’t be moving on—à la Russell Sam Malone in Cheers—but that’s less common).

Most of Sara’s crime lab found family has moved on or is moving on.  Warrick died.  Grissom left the lab.  Wendy left.  Catherine left (although she seems to be coming back).  Brass retired.  Nick left.  Finlay died.  Russell is leaving.  To my mind, Greg and Morgan are moving on together (meaning Sara’s importance in Greg’s life will inevitably ultimately diminish), though they may be staying at the lab for the time-being.  (Morgan is wearing a huge sparkly ring on her left ring finger in her final scene, in which she embraces Greg after they defuse the bombs in the parking garage.  I’ve always taken this to mean they finally got together.)  Nick has moved to California, and there’s probably a decent chance of Greg and Morgan ultimately moving back to California, since they are both from the L.A. area.  (Unless we learn otherwise, I’m assuming that’s where they are now.)  (Many thanks to the second season of CSI: Vegas for ruining my Greg/Morgan headcanons, but the above was true at the time.)

Sara has already left the lab once, and it makes sense for her to be doing the same again.  Plus, in 2015, it’s not exactly hard to stay in touch with people long-distance, and Sara has practice.  (Long-distance friendships are presumably a lot easier to maintain than a long-distance marriage, though I’ve never tried the latter.)

*For me, the two biggest ongoing narrative arcs (journeys) of the first nine seasons are Sara and Grissom’s romance and the (related) personal growth of Grissom, the show’s protagonist.  Both those stories culminate with Grissom finding Sara in the rainforest, which gives us one of my favourite scenes of the entire series.  It’s a great ending for both.  (In my opinion, the whole show could have ended right then and there; its narrative arc was complete.)  But Jorja Fox’s return, and TPTB’s handling of it, sort of threw a wrench in things, and then ultimately we got season 13, and I don’t think I need to say any more about that.  To my mind, Sara and Grissom going off on an adventure together best restores the happily-ever-after ending they originally received—and deserved.

*Whatever she later claims, Sara in “Goodbye and Good Luck” (08x07) clearly intends a permanent departure from the lab, and in season 9 she wants an adventure (e.g., the Sea Shepherd, the Galapagos).  She goes off on some sort of research vessel then goes to do research in the rainforest in Costa Rica.  She wants an adventure (preferably with Grissom).

After he and Sara divorce, Grissom picks a path that coincides with what Sara had wanted (a Sea Shepherd-like organization) and names his boat after one of their favourite books.  I don’t think he ever expects her to join him, yet he chooses a cause she would like.  He subconsciously selects something that might best entice her to join him (if she had any clue he wanted her around).  (Even when she’s not around, everything he does, he does for her, or with her in mind; he’s always thinking of her.)

*I don’t blame anyone but TPTB for the divorce.  (Sometimes things are so out of character that I cannot blame the characters; I have to blame the TPTB.)  But the precipitating event really is Sara’s return to Vegas.  After that, as far as I am concerned, they are like boiling frogs (i.e., their marriage disintegrates so slowly that they don’t even notice until it’s too late, and then Grissom thinks he is doing the right thing by setting Sara free).  So, to undo that mess, it makes sense that they would again leave Vegas and continue their intended adventure together.

*From a narrative standpoint, Sara leaving the lab to go after Grissom parallels Grissom leaving the lab to go after Sara.  It’s balanced.  It’s symmetrical.

Although Sara originally comes to Vegas for Grissom, those are different circumstances.  That (Sara moving to Vegas post-“Cool Change” (01x02)) is guy she’s secretly kind of in love with offering her a great job opportunity and her accepting.  That is not “you are the love of my life and I will give up everything I hold dear for you,” which is what “One to Go” (09x10) and “Immortality” (16) both are.

Additionally, in both “One to Go” (09x10) and “Immortality” (16), Grissom and Sara (respectively) each go after the other only after the other has tried to set them free, reinforcing the parallel.

Moreover, while Sara gives up a lot in leaving the lab for Grissom, Grissom would have had more difficulty reaching a point where he could give up everything in his well-structured life for Sara.  Sara has proven herself more amenable to change.  In contrast to the actual ending, having Grissom follow Sara away from Vegas (“One to Go,” 09x10) only to end up following her back to Vegas (“Immortality,” 16) would feel very one-sided.

*Finally, the symbolism of the adventure is good.

While deserts can be extremely biodiverse places with their own ecosystems and life (on which I am very much not an expert), in this story the desert is associated with death; it’s the setting of this particular show about death; it’s where Sara is taken to die; and, in the eighth season, Sara literally has to leave Las Vegas and the desert to say goodbye to her ghosts.

Sara has a lot of ghosts.  Sara and Grissom have both spent their lives with death.  Their fathers die when they are young, which strongly influences their upbringings.  They graduate early, which means they begin their jobs early, with both starting out in the coroner’s office in their respective cities and then moving on to different crime labs.  Both are obsessed with their jobs, jobs that revolve around death.

Before they meet each other, neither Sara nor Grissom is fully living; before they meet each other, neither is fully invested in the human experience.  But they meet, and they fall in love, and ultimately they choose life.  (They lift their heads up out of their microscopes, although Sara has always been more prepared to do this than Grissom.)

In “One to Go” (09x10), Sara and Grissom reunite in the tropical rainforest in Costa Rica, an incredibly green, lush, biodiverse place, and honestly I cannot think of a better metaphor for life; I couldn’t find any great stats, but one website I visited stated that the Costa Rican rainforest ranks first in the world in biodiversity per area unit.  The rainforest is also the place Grissom wanted to visit before he died, as stated in “Way to Go” (06x24), where it is thus initially contrasted with death.

Then, in “Immortality” (16), they once again leave the desert, but this time for the ocean.  Again, contrasted with the desert, for our purposes the ocean symbolizes life.  They’ll be working on the conservation of marine life.  They choose life.   They choose the adventure.  Together.

Sara and Grissom reunite in the coastal state where they first met (and where they were both born and raised); they have come full circle.  They sail off into the sunset.  The end (but not actually the end of the story I’m currently telling).

And, lucky for us, we then get an epilogue that shows us just how perfectly magical they are when they are finally allowed to become old(ish) and married together!

Those are my (very rough) thoughts; obviously your perspective may differ! 💛

[annihilate-this-week]

I know no one will see this because no one reads my tumblr and that’s fine but yesterday was my wife’s 40th birthday and I took her on a day trip to DC and bought her a bunch of stuff and a couple really good meals and now I’m sure we won’t have rent money and the thought of calling my dad and asking him for the money I’m short is giving me major anxiety even though I am pretty sure he’ll give it to me. Imm honestly trying to keep my parents pretty far away from me these days because I know they don’t support my identity or accept me as their daughter and I just can’t stand continuing to show up for the emotional abuse and unsupportive attitudes when I’m 47 goddamn years old and it’s been going on all my life.

Buuuut on the other hand I also can’t seem to make ends meet even though I have two jobs and a goddamn Patreon (which has 12 supporters — who I love but I need more and have no idea how to get them). I probably need $3000 a month for Sara and I to live pretty goddamn well and I can’t fucking get there no matter what I do. She can’t work full-time due to ongoing chronic health issues and I just want to give her a good life without having to panic about money all the time but I can’t seem to do it. And worst of all, then she blames herself and says I’d be better off without her as a “financial burden” or whatever, completely ignoring the fact that her emotional support is the only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit right now. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want her to feel that way, but sadly, I understand why she comes to those conclusions. I just want to create a situation where she has no excuse to feel that way and I can’t.

This cis lesbian who is married to a trans girl my wife is friends with was all gung-ho about helping me do a new resume so I could get a better job, and back in January we got together on a weekend and worked on stuff and got a resume for me about 80% done. She sent me home with homework I needed to get done so we could finish it but life kept getting in the way and I needed to make money NOW to make sure our power didn’t get turned off, we didn’t get evicted, etc, and before I knew it three months passed and now the girl who was helping me isn’t talking to me anymore and I think she’s offended I didn’t prioritize my resume but it’s hard to do that shit when you’ve gotta work 40 to 50 hours a week just to keep from losing your place and whatnot. And I think the dream of making an actual good resume so I can try for better jobs is dead now, or at least that I’m on my own, and it’s so hurtful and terrifying but I guess I brought it on myself.

And right now I’m sitting on the floor of my bathroom typing this instead of showering because I have to go work with my one employee (yes I am a MANAGER at my main job and I’m still struggling this hard) who consistently refuses to gender me correctly and is also terrible at her job and I’m just fucking dreading it. So here I am.

Anyway, thanks for reading. If you got this far and want to help a struggling queer aging trans writer lady and her disabled trans queer wife cover our goddamn bills and save me from having to be further indebted to my dad who never genders me correctly and is killing my soul, well, you can paypal me: buzzorhowl@gmail.com (yes my deadname is on that account, no they won’t let me change it) or Venmo me: @Drew-Necci. But don’t feel obligated. I know shit is awful everywhere in America right now.

Regardless, thanks for reading my panicked rant. Love you.

[nogenderbee]

Favorite vocals for every char? Ill start !

Toya: CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY also echo but BRUh that second verse in crazy omggggg he did such a good job givin off that hip hop vibe

Akito "get down now".

Do i need to say any more?

Kohane: daybreka frontline first verse lets go

An: ermmmmm...... "I dont know how to fight" in echo is just✨✨✨✨

Rui: filament feverrrr filament feverrrrrrrrrr he sounds so OFBWICBAOC OWXNWODNSOCN

nene: eVeRythInggg

Tsukasa: filament fever bridge honestly if you dont like that bridge we are not friends anymore/j

Emu: kItto. Koko wa. Yume no. Naka da. Itsuka. sameru. Sousou wa dekinai kedo

Shizuki HWERE DO I EVEN STAR HER VOICE IS SOSOSOSOSO BEAUTOFULL ajywah watashi wa watashtachi wa second pre chorus.. Kokoro wa oooooooo

Minori: nee near.... Sorry but the cute girls sound the best with low and soft voices

airi: worldwide wander second verse

Haruka: also near and lonely universe

Honami: "Kanawanakute ii kara negawasete" her voice is so sweeeeeeeeeet she deserves more love :(

Shiho: the bridge in voices

Ichika: ermmmmm stella

Saki: flyway

Mizuki: ummmmmmmm idk man her voice is so good... Im think 25:00 no jounetsu?

Ena: her first line in sore anata ga no shiwase shite mo is like so passionate i love her voice

Mafuyu: im not sure tbh... The outro of kanadetomosusora?

Kanadd:... Her first line in sore anata ga no showase shite mo im sorry but they just slayed in that

Your turn~ !

Hehehe I'm gonna surprise you here~

I actually have event where I answer that! ^^

But in case Tumblr is messing with me again.. I'll just rewrite it to make sure it's not unreadable-

Ichika - HIBANA

Saki - Order Made

Honami - When the Morning Glory Falls

Shiho - Were Still Underground

Minori - Vampire

Haruka - Float Planner

Airi - Parasol Cider

Shizuku - Matemo Re:born

Kohane - Beat Eater

An - City

Akito - Moonlight

Toya - Rain and Petra

Tsuaksa - At God's Mercy

Emu - Alien Alien

Nene - Tondemo Wonderz

Rui - Showtime Ruler

Kanade - Hated by Life Itself

Mafuyu - Phony

Ena - Lower

Mizuki - Gehenna

WHOAH THAT'S A LOT- I hope I wrote the names correctly now...

ALSO YES!! Honami needs more love!!! Like her voice is so soothing I LOVE IT!!

[miraculousfanworks]

Brief Writing Prompts FAQ!

As you all may have noticed, Writing Prompts have been posted with regularity over the past week, with a new format. In light of this, here's an FAQ (or, uh, a Would-be FAQ) about the writing prompts we post here on the Miraculous Fanworks tumblr!

Where do the prompts come from? The prompts come from out associated Discord Server, where we have a designated channel for people in our community to submit prompts for fanfiction. That's why each prompt has a "Prompt by:" section, indicating which of our server members was responsible for it. Not all prompts posted there get posted on the tumblr page, though. There's just too many. So instead we have a system where if a prompt has to get a certain amount of likes before it's put into the queue.

I made a prompt that's gotten enough likes on the server, why has it not been posted yet? Patience, grasshopper. Even with our restrictions on what can and cannot be posted, we still have a LOT of prompts in our backlog. We're slowly but surely making our way through. To ensure viewers of the tumblr page get a constant stream of content in the mean time, we put all the prompts in a queue set to update a couple times a day. Your prompt will make it onto the page eventually!

I made a prompt that was published on the page, but you didn't credit me correctly. What do I do? Simply reach out to us, and we will do our best to fix the mistake! We credit people mostly based on the usernames and/or nicknames they use on Discord (hence the lack of tumblr or ao3 profile links), so if you'd rather be credited differently then please tell us! You get to be properly credited, and we ensure that our records are accurate. Everyone wins!

Can I write a fanfiction (or otherwise create fan content) based off these prompts? Yes, absolutely, that is what they are here for. Just make sure to give some credit to the prompt's creator! (And if you feel like giving us a shout-out too, well, we certainly won't mind!)

Are prompts posted to the tumblr exactly the way they were posted in the discord server? We try to maintain as much of the original formatting as possible when copying prompts over, unfortunately in some cases that's just not possible. The most common example of this is when people incorporate Discord formatting or emojis into the prompt. It's common practice for people to use our custom character emojis for script-format prompts, and since we obviously can't use those on the tumblr such posts are edited to maintain the intention of the original as much as possible. If a prompt is preceded by a comment from its a creator saying it's a reference to something else on the server, than that comment will usually be removed or edited since tumblr users can't make use of them. Also, if there's a spelling or punctuation error that's particularly jarring then we'll fix it, but usually we try to leave the prompts as they are. If a prompt by you gets published with edits you do not approve of, then by all means reach out to us and we will fix it.

Who's posting all of these? Who's responsible for the prompt titles, and the tags? That would be me. Hi, I'm Maspers, one of the Miraculous Fanworks mods running the tumblr. Posting writing prompts (with editing if necessary) to the queue is my job. I'm also responsible for the majority of the titles given to the prompts, since usually the prompt creator doesn't make one themselves. If the title WAS created by the prompt's creator, it'll be in quotes (" ") and I'll make note of it in the tags. And yes, the tags are also my doing, since obviously those aren't present on Discord.

Why do I see a lot of the same names responsible for creating prompts? Isn't your community pretty big? It is pretty big. But as stated previously, the prompts posted here have to reach a certain amount of likes on the server first, and some people just have a knack for making good prompts! This goes for the stuff featured in the prompts too, some concepts and characters are just more popular. If you want to see even more prompts by even more people about an even bigger variety of Miraculous-related stuff, then come join our server and check out our writing prompts channel there!

I have a question about the writing prompts that isn't answered here. How do I get it answered? Reach out to us with your question, and we will do our best to answer it for you! The Miraculous Fanworks moderating team takes its job very seriously, and we want to ensure that everyone in our community feels like they can come to us for assistance. So don't hesitate to reach out!

Who thought putting Maspers in charge of managing the prompts was a good idea? He's insane. Look I'm just as surprised as you are, really.

Thanks so much for reading this brief FAQ about the Writing Prompts on this tumblr! We hope you continue to enjoy them! Have a nice day!

[adventures-of-tbh-and-btw]

❓📱👥

❓- What question isn’t on this list but you wish it was? What is your answer to it?

Answer: Hmm… this is kind of tough. I guess I think a good question would be : What is one stereotype of autism that you defy/doesn’t apply to you?

I think this is a good question, because although it is becoming more and more well known that there is not such thing as one type of Autistic person, there are still a-lot of stereotypes out there. Not all of them are negative, but they are stereotypes nonetheless.

As for my answer, I would say that the stereotype of Autisic people being exceptional with math and numbers does not apply to me. Although I can do basic math fairly well (same goes for geometry), I am by no means a math person. I thrive on words- writing essays, creating stories (and of course comics). I can’t stand math. I understand the whole appeal of logic (which yes, I agree is nice. 2 + 2 always equally 4 is lovely), but once you start getting into algebra, you lose me. Maybe that’s why I enjoy geometry. It’s about explaining the math through words (also shapes, which as an artist I understand), rather than simply finding i to the first power (ew).

📱- Giving as much or as little detail as you’re comfortable with, what sort of accommodations and support do you need?

Answer: Oof, this one’s tough too (mainly because I am not entirely sure what counts as support). Starting off with accommodations, I need gloves. Almost every time I touch some sort of food (cheese in particular), I need to be wearing some sort of gloves. I also typically need to be able to wear headphones in spaces with too much noise. I don’t have noise cancelling ones, so I will typically turn on music in an attempt to drown out the other noises. Without headphones, I can get by covering my ears, but can only take so much before it becomes too much. Thankfully, my current job (despite being ridiculously noisy) allows me to listen to music whilst I work, so this hasn’t been too much of an issue yet.

I would say I mainly need support socially. As I mentioned previously, I need people to be okay clarifying if they are joking or sarcastic sometimes, and need them not to get upset if I take something literally (ex: Only bringing two of something when someone asked for a couple. Because couple = two. I have to constantly remind myself that when someone says a couple of something, they typically mean more than two).

I also have a very hard time telling when people are taking advantage of/making fun of me, so having someone be willing to let me know when that is occurring is always nice. I have had people tell others to leave me alone on my behalf, as I was unknowingly allowing them to mock me to my face.

Sorry if I didn’t answer this question correctly. I honestly don’t know what counts and doesn’t count as support/accommodations, as I was never really offered any growing up. I just had to find ways to “deal with it”, which usually involved me simply avoiding the things that bothered me.

👥- Do you feel like you are part of the autistic community on Tumblr?

Answer: I don’t know? I mean… I would like to think I make people in the Autistic community happy with my comics and such, but in reality, I don’t interact with others in the community that much (aside from answering asks). This is a secondary blog, so I don’t really have the ability to interact with people without sharing my main blog’s url (which I don’t think I can do atm). So I guess I’m not? I don’t really know TBH (no pun intended).

Thank you for the ask!

[linka-r9-vysocina]

i wonder where i saw that thing that was like - when you struggle with your mental health, you can't even have a bad day or week in peace because you are immediately thinking is it getting bad again?? am i slipping into a depressive episode again??

idk whether it was a tumblr post or an article or a pastel insta infographic (even though the last one is highly unlikely)

but i found myself thinking about that today when i realized that while yes, maybe you can say that *gestures vaguely* those things have taken a toll on my mental health, - i realized that in am simply once again filled with

SO

MUCH

FUCKING

RAGE

that I don't know what to do with it anymore

it's not just depression and other "normal" stuff, rage and anger are the reason i have been having so many vivid dreams and nightmares and why i feel like shit at least half of the time

I know I should take peace in the things that are good, and I have been lucky to have plenty of those; I know that I could channel the rage and make it a driving force to do good

but i am also exhausted and i am not able to stop feeling like things in general are turning into shit in rapid speed at a massive scale and i know that desperation is not useful at all but desperation is ultimately what my rage always transforms to

i really wish to find a way to just put it aside and find solace in working for a better world, but i feel like it's getting harder and harder with every news article about palestine, with every public figure saying stupid shit like "public transport has bad reputation because it's so cheap so we should deifnitely raise the ticket prices", with every app update sneaking in a line about AI training, with Tumblr and Wordpress deciding to sell our creativity in the exact moment I set up a wordpress blog, with every job listing in which a billion crown company is both bragging about billion crowns sales and offering 27 000 CZK for a full-time position (which is about 22 300CZK after taxes which is about 900 EUR if I am counting correctly or 950 USD and also 27000 is the rent we three roommates pay for an apartment), and I wonder how and if i ever find a way out of this

the fact that one of our cats is sick and I'm taking him to the vet daily does not really help

[waymond-wang]

Don't you worry about rambling my man, that's what this here tumblr is for! Those are some really good points! I think as well, for Shuri to go to war in her mother's name, not only would be an insult to her mother's love, but Ramonda didn't raise her to be like that. She was raised to be quote unquote "womanly" as at the end of the day *thinks of at the end of the day from les mis* she is a princess and how are princesses supposed to behave? Demure, compliant, "womanly" ie, the complete opposite of Shuri. We see this mainly in the first film, with Shuri giving the middle finger, Ramonda warns her, Shuri wanting to get out of her traditional dress before the waterfall fight. Given that she's mainly into STEM, it makes sense that those take priority over being the "traditional princess" so when she has to be the "traditional princess" with the dresses, the calm, etc, that's not comfortable for her. However, she is still aware of her mother's influence and given Ramonda's personality, I wouldn't put it past her to be complaining about how Shuri isn't behaving like a "proper princess" in the ancestral realm.

Also I think I have a good summary of what you said - it's all about the greater good!

these are very interesting points about shuri's upbringing under ramonda. I would say that wakanda has different viewpoints on what is "womanly" in comparison to the rest of the world, with the most obvious example being the dora milaje. being a dora is a great honour, reserved for wakanda's greatest warriors and is one of the most important jobs (protecting the royal family) -- in any other country, comparable positions would be occupied by men. does that speak to a larger cultural opinion of women in wakanda? im not sure, but i'd like to think so!

perhaps what ramonda is doing during these instances is not reminding her of being "womanly" per se, but more of traditional etiquette. in the context of our (or western?) society, "traditional etiquette" and "womanly (i.e. demure, reserved, compliant)" may be one and the same in women, but in wakanda, they could mean different things. like, t'challa compared to shuri is much more stoic and reserved -- this could be his nature, but it could also be because he's the firstborn and was always going to inherit the throne, so these qualities were taught to him because that is what is expected in kings, as per tradition. and tradition, respect of elders and the ancestors is deeply embedded into wakandan culture, so it would make sense that the top most position of the country (one that is deigned to be representative of the country and its peoples) is reflective of that. maybe ramonda wasn't telling shuri that she wasn't behaving correctly as a woman, but as royalty. im sure she would have tsk'd t'challa if he flipped someone off as well -- but I can't picture him doing that at all hahaha

and yes -- ultimately my last answer was a really long-winded way of saying it's for the greater good! but i'd like to think that shuri showed namor mercy not just for the sake of wakanda's future and her responsibility as its princess and black panther, but also because she loved her mother so much. violence begets violence -- letting namor's hatred fuel her own would only lead to more down the road, and i think ramonda's love for shuri is part of what broke that cycle, even if that same love is what started her down that path to begin with. namor loved his mother just as bad, and when he lost her, his heart broke into something sharp and hateful -- he wielded that hate, bludgeoning the surface and laying waste to his enemies. he let that grief shape him into something furious. but ramonda teaches shuri that while grief is difficult, yes, it can be survived. it is just love, reincarnated. imo, ramonda was watching her from the ancestral realm, praying that her death didn't break her daughter into something unrecognizable, and hoping instead that shuri would take her sorrow and seed it, nurture it into wisdom and love to share with the future.

[good-things-do-happen-dean]

GOOD VIBES FOR DEAN’S BIRTHDAY GOOD VIBES FOR DEAN’S BIRTHDAY GOOD VIBES FOR DEAN’S BIRTHDAY

[mxactivist]

Some statistics on Mx in the UK

I recently submitted a Freedom of Information request to HMRC (Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs, they handle taxes in the UK) to find out how many people use various titles.

I had two goals:

To find out a minimum number for how many people in the UK are using the title Mx;

To find out how the number of people using Mx compares to the number of people using other titles.

HMRC provided data from the two largest sets of data they had: self-assessed tax returns, and PAYE (pay as you earn) tax. (Note that these two sets of data don’t contain everyone in the UK, and a small proportion of people are probably in both sets. HMRC also told me that the “other” category contains typos.)

Here’s their response:

Tumblr doesn’t let me add alt text but you can see the full table here on Google Sheets.

The blue rows highlight titles that are represented by a greater percentage of people than in the other dataset. So, for example, the title Mr is represented by more people in the self-assessed dataset (60%) than in the PAYE dataset (47%). (This visually helps more when you view the tables side-by-side instead of one and then the other underneath, which is another Tumblr issue.) I did this to see at-a-glance patterns between gender, marital status, and qualifications relating to tax type. Dr, Mr and Mrs are all larger proportions in the self-assessed group compared to PAYE, and I think that may relate not to qualifications or marital status or relative privilege, but to age - as people age they become more likely to have acquired doctorates and spouses, and they also become less likely to pay tax through PAYE.

There were much higher proportions of people claiming the titles Miss, Ms and Mx in the PAYE group.

It seems that there are at least 7,000 people in the UK using the title Mx in a “legal” (tax-related) capacity. In the grand scheme of things this is a very small percentage, but if I imagine a group of 7,000 nonbinary and otherwise genderly interesting people I find it quite heartening! Hello, everyone. :)

(I feel that I should mention at this point that this data is NOT representative of the proportion or number of nonbinary people in the UK.)

I’m sure that as Mx becomes more well-known these numbers will increase. I may request this information from HMRC again at several future dates to see if any rough trends can be identified.

If you’re out there and you’re in the UK and paying tax and your title is Mx and you didn’t know that you can register your title as Mx with HMRC, I hope this serves to inform you that it’s possible.

~

Edit to add responses:

gnotknormal said:

This is cool. I'd be interested if you could find the info from the DVLA as I'm Mx on my driving licence. Mainly because I requested it myself, when it came to my last employed job my employer didn't even ask me. I said I was a man and they put "Mr" by default, so I feel like there would be more representation in things like driving licence. Just a theory though.

I did consider the DVLA, so yes, I’ll put that on my to-do list!

notacirrhosismachineanymore said:

I think the PAYE data is severely skewed by employers. I'm non binary, AFAB, and my tax is done by a HR department I have neversspoken to, who saw my name and assumed Mr. My preferred is no title, and I definitely never put one on any form. I expect there are a lot of genderqueer people in that situation, or something similar. If your employers HR system only allows an M or F, you would have to shout very loudly at people you don't work with, to get that info updated.

Really good points. I definitely think there are more than 7,000 people who use Mx, and I’d very much encourage people to make sure their title is logged correctly with employers and HMRC.

~

Edit again: I have now made FOI requests to the DVLA and the DWP. Click the links to view my requests on What Do They Know.

[shiny-jr]

Hello, Shiny!

Yesterday I was looking forward to your quiz and after work I postponed all my business to read everything!!

I'm sorry, I couldn't resist and wanted to read everything from cover to cover.

Practically followed every update of this project.AND HOW HE HAS SUNK INTO MY SOUL. THEY JUST SHOT ME THROUGH THE HEART AND SEWED THIS BLESSING EXPRESSED IN WORDS AND LINES. THANK YOU FOR FINISHING THREE WHOLE CHAPTERS!!!this is amazing!!!

if I could kiss your hands, I would do it, of course with your consent.

I HAVE READ EACH OPTION AT LEAST 4 TIMES!!!

I love your writing style so much!!The way you convey the atmosphere, the characters, their actions. and the consequences of those decisions that led to such a tense denouement!!

And I would really like to print out every one of your work. Whether it's even a brief sketch with Vil or a big job!!And i want put it on shelf and reread it from time to time!!But unfortunately I don't have a printer, aahaha

A little spoilers, for the rest.

Geese Jesus, I laughed so much when I imagined the stunned, confused and complete confusion of the King of Hearts in that scene with the Cater!!!

It was so funny to imagine in my head that on their heels literally every second comes the threat in the form of deprivation of the head. And now they were literally holding a shovel for their grave.

By the way, I kept thinking that Trey is too suspiciously "kind", you know, that simple guy whom everyone seems to love, everyone trusts him. But your goose bumps are serenading you that this guy is stirring up something. Do you know such a phrase in your head "Run fool, he'll eat you up" In truth, I even thought that he would do something dark and hidden from Riddle and the King of Hearts in the end.

Excuse my waiting detective head.

And I was so sorry for the Hatter, the White Rabbit and the March Hare. I felt very uncomfortable when I read these lines. Good job!!

And the scene where Azul is on the ship….I'm sorry, but I've never swore so loudly from fright!! To sail away on a ship…A brilliant plan!!Reliable as a Swiss watch!!Sail away from Merfolk!!!Ahahahah.

(in no way do I want to offend you or say something negative, I really liked everything!!My English is not native, I use a translator)

That scene with Leona at the end. I could just feel all the disgust that blood is smeared on the Leader's face and feel this smell and taste as if you chewed nails or an iron spoon. It was a very smart move for the ending!!! What could be more cryptic and frightening than "such a proposal" after the murder of ______ (I don't want to completely spoiler for others so cruelly)

It was even a pity for the Leader when Jack was like an arrogant thistle that could not be unhooked, for them and hyenas. Ahahah.

I'm sorry if it got messy, and a little incoherent. I will look forward to the rest of this project!! I wish you a good rest and gain strength!!Thank you for sharing your works with us, which are divine!!

I still fondly remember one of your works, but as far as I understand it was removed from Tumblr. Although I really liked it!!! If I remember correctly, it was due to the fact that Azul wandered into some cheap bar? and I found a poor singer MС there and almost persuaded them to a deal. But they refused and kicked him out of their dressing room. I love this job so much!!

Oh yes, I do not know if anyone has asked you before. Sorry if you already answered.

Who are your favorites from TWST? And who do you like to write about the most?

Wow, this is a long ask. I'm both flattered and concerned that you postponed stuff to read it. I'm hoping that at least you didn't postpone anything important like a class or a meeting or work or whatever other important things you may have to deal with. It's also worrying and flattering that you've read each result four times, but it's also scarily impressive.

As for the rest, believe it or not, I actually didn't know how I wanted to insert Cater into the story. I thought it would be boring if I just added him like a regular subordinate, because then it would be too similar to Trey. Then I remembered the whole reason mc nearly died was because the king they replaced had a scandalous relationship or admiration for someone. When I thought of putting Cater into that role, I realized it would make for something really interesting especially how Cater tries to fit into the molds of how others perceive him, so of course he'd probably want to get along with the king (now the mc). At least, that was my thought process. As for Trey, Trey is just always loyal to Riddle, even in the main game story, which is why I decided to take a similar approach with him here.

As for my favorite twst character, that has to be Idia. He's both funny and extremely relatable. The easiest to write though is Vil, because of the whole soft yan Vil thing, he's a lot easier to write now and people definitely enjoy stuff I write about him.

[sukirichi]

Bonten husbands messing up their child's haircut idk if you got this one cus my tumblr's acting up :(

Ran: panik. He's sURE he followed the tutorial correctly, but something must have gone wrong. After struggling to fix it he just accepts his fate and vacuums the carpet for the night. "Ran" "I know."

Rindou: Tried to impress you by doing it but it backfired. Waits for you to get home since he doesn't want to mess it up any more. Poor bby cries a lil and is so guilty, pls give him love🥺 "Care to explain?" "Not really"

Kaku: Internal screaming. There's no way this could've happened. Not to him. Tries to fix it and does a pretty decent job but he knows he can't fool you "What happened to their hair?" "Iaccidentallymessedup"

Koko: The only reason he was doing this is bc he heard the other members fvked up their kids hair and tried to one-up them. Calls every professional in the area. Just for backup he bought a wig. "Why are there hairdressers in my home?" "That's a good question"

Sanzu: Desperately tries to save it but it only gets worse. In the end he acted like it all happened on purpose. Also made your favorite meal to distract from the hair. *Unimpressed Wife Noises* "iT dOEsn'T LoOK thAt bAD"

-✎

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS 😭💕

omg ran would definitely be very excited about it. he’s quite proud of his hairstyles from his youth up until his bonten self, so its almost hard to stop him from wanting to be the one to snip snip his kid’s hair. so daddy! ran stands there, proud and confident as youtube tutorials play in the background. but then it doesn’t turn out the way he likes, and his kid is speechless at the rather...questionable new look. as if things can’t get worse, you come home with a frown. “ran?” you gently pat his shoulder, the muscles under your touch slumping in defeat. and when he says yes, he knows it looks bad and he should’ve just went to professionals, you can’t have the heart to scold him on it ://

now see, rindou may look aloof or unbothered most times with a permanent lazy frown, but he does like the attention and praises you shower him with. he gets the idea one day to surprise you by cutting his kid’s hair so you won’t have to take him to the stylists this weekend. but his hands are shaking, his kid won’t stop fidgeting on the chair, and on top of the pressure of wanting to impress you, along with the fear of not pulling this off - it backfires. rindou doesn’t even try finishing the look his kid asked for before he’s giving them snacks to make up for the mistake. and when you get home, rindou begins to tear up. thankfully, you appreciate that its the thought that counts (though your kid didn’t have to suffer this heinous cut lmao) so you don’t push him too much to explain 🥺

kakucho refuses to believe it !! him, best daddy kakucho, messing up his kid’s haircut when he even practiced on so many wigs and watched more tutorials that it put ran’s effort to shame? him, best daddy kakucho, who was intensely focused and careful in everything he did yet it still turned out this way ?? poor bb is so shocked he can’t even form coherent sentences anymore

out of all of them, kokonoi is the most reassured he’s got this. he’s been styling his hair since he was a teen - he’s got this !! and just to prove a point that he’s the best daddy who won’t mess up his kid’s cut, he happily facetimes the other bonten members while a group of professional stylist supervise and nod in agreement at his techniques and swift cuts. don’t get him wrong though, there’s a number of wigs and professionals on standby if ever he messes up, giving him a perfect excuse that “its time for a break” before he ends the call. better safe than sorry, Koko tells himself, because alas, he ended up needing them after all 💀

sanzu - as insane and daring he may be - knows his limits and is most definitely aware how scary you can get if you see how he messed his kid’s haircut up. but ah, sanzu gives in when the other bonten members bribe mikey to order sanzu to at least try so all the bonten daddies could finally crown who is most deserving of the ‘best daddy award.’ he messes up though, which is expected, and there’s no more taking it back so he simply whisks you into the kitchen before you can hear your crying kid, your favorite meal prepared and kisses littered on your face. until your kid comes to greet you and your mouth falls agape at the mess. *cue unimpressed wife noises and defensive husband noises*