#bitch have you heard of subtext

[feminurge]

so excited for iw.tv to get the attention it deserves. however,

[shannonsketches]

like why did they change where Vegeta was when Cell announced the cell games in the anime

why did they make this vegeta starting shit with yamcha instead of chillin in the lab with his family? why did they take Bulma out of the lab? Why'd they say she was Out while Dr Brief was repairing 16? Why did they change Bulma working on advanced robotics to running in late with her baby?

it's the same scene except: - Bulma's actively at work being a scientist - Vegeta's not being rude to her (or anyone else!) - Vegeta waits for Trunks instead of leaving the room - Cell interrupted the airwaves, which means Trunks and Vegeta were just hanging out with Bulma and Dr B while they were working

Those are all Great Character Details!! That the anime rails against!!

[rottenpumpkin13]

Out Of Context Shit Heard On The SOLDIER Floor #6

Previous: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5

Angeal: No, Genesis, you spaghetti-noodle-spine-having-ass bitch.

Sephiroth: I identify as a tonberry *chases Cloud with a kitchen knife*

Zack: Ra Ra Rasputin *kicks Sephiroth over*

Genesis: Unhand me you cretin *alone, talking to no one*

Angeal: Zack just showed me a picture of the Grinch and said "hear me out"

Lazard: No, Sephiroth, you cannot have a human-sized cat bed in your office "for enrichment"

Cloud: Parkour time *crashes through the air vents*

Sephiroth: I'm the biggest lesbian ally in this department, actually.

Angeal: For the sake of my sanity I'm gonna pretend I didn't just see Zack twerking to One Winged Angel.

Luxiere: I would commit unspeakable atrocities for a crumb of Zack's attention.

Lazard: That stripper pole better be gone when I get back or so help me, Genesis, I will return you to the goddess.

Sephiroth: *does a single pump of sore throat spray* This is enough for sustenance for the day.

Kunsel: Care for a deep-fried cigarette?

Angeal: You look like an AI-generated twink.

Sephiroth: I've grown so tired of Genesis's voice that we now communicate solely through interpretive dance.

Lazard, over the speakers: Whoever heated fish in the break room microwave, please come by my office so I can break your knees.

Zack: Aww, I forgot to feed the Roomba :(

Genesis: I don't know why me and Angeal are being judged. Simulating a birth with a watermelon is a perfectly normal activity for two people.

Kunsel: Hopefully this office party won't end in accidental weed use.

Angeal: WHY IS THERE A FAMILY OF RACCOONS IN THE TRAINING ROOM?

Genesis: I noticed some homosexual subtext in your screams, do you want to talk about that?

Angeal: *sniff sniff* Ooh~ who's barbecuing? OH MY GOD IT'S AN ELECTRIC FIRE.

Roche: Every time I think about chopping my hair short I think "Sephiroth wouldn't want this for me" and the feeling is gone.

Genesis: I made a friend *drags in a skeleton with a Sephiroth wig*

Cloud: *points at Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth* Pure of heart, dumb of ass, big of tit.

Lazard: I told Zack to use Excel and he started sobbing.

Angeal: WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST SEASONING YOUR GROUND BEEF?

Sephiroth: It's extremely rude to ask someone why they're eating a salad bowl of udon at 8 AM. Mind your business, Zack.

Cloud: Genesis likes Loveless so much because the title resonates with his love life.

Zack: You keep your anxiety pills in a takeaway to-go box? Dude that's so fancy.

Lazard: Why is Sephiroth the only one wearing a shirt??

Angeal: Common sense has chased Zack all his life but he wears wheelies so he's faster

Sephiroth: I personally don't use the peace sign because I haven't had a day of peace since I was 12.

Kunsel: I'm never going out in public with Zack again. A child's balloon popped when it went near his hair.

Angeal: No I'm not giving you an aspirin. Last time I gave you one you crushed it and snorted it like cocaine.

Lazard: An overwhelming majority of you peaked in kindergarten.

Sephiroth: Zack, I'm becoming increasingly concerned by the amount of potatoes in your pants right now.

Zack: This year I want an A/B/O themed birthday party.

Sephiroth: Please don't commit tax fraud, Genesis. You won't thrive in prison.

Genesis: Does anyone have an extra ramen packet to give Sephiroth? The 64 he consumed this morning weren't enough.

Roche: Commander Rhapsodos and his emo fringe is our culture.

Zack: I'm at my fucking limit! I'm about to eat a vegetable!

Genesis: He's a son of a bitch Sephiroth: That implies he has a mother, so I don't see how that's an insult.

Zack: Fuck around and find out *said with a chunk of Genesis' red coat hanging from his pocket*

Cloud: Does anyone have an extra brain cell? I lost my remaining one when Genesis spoke to me this morning.

Sephiroth: Damn.

Kunsel: Zack owes me so much money that if he sold his box of random shit he stole from Angeal, he still couldn't pay me back.

Angeal: Why are you guys playing Queen's Blood in the closet? is this a metaphor?

Genesis: Have you prayed to your Sephiroth cardboard cutout yet today?

Sephiroth: Alert me once Rufus Shinra arrives so that I may greet him adequately *said while building a pipe bomb*

Lazard: It's all fun and games until the timeout cage that I ordered online arrives.

Genesis: I will atone for my sins by becoming a nuisance to the environment.

Cloud: If Zack were a scented candle he'd smell like ADHD and crayons.

Sephiroth, standing on a table: DO NOT. EAT. THE CHEESECAKE. IN THE FRIDGE. It's mine.

Angeal: *with a bucket while it's raining hale* Free ice baby.

Zack: I finally have enough gil to buy a sixteen bouncy castles.

Genesis: Being overcome with the desire to eat pasta and call your mother at 2 AM and wondering if you're having a mental breakdown or are possessed by Sephiroth.

Lazard: I can't fire any of you, but I'm about to start setting things on fire.

[lyssified]

i'm asking you about hemingway what would you like to say?

okay first of all THANK YOU for this ask and i'm so sorry I took my sweet time answering it

anyway I have a lot to say abt this so I hope you don't mind if it turns into a little bit of a rant because YES Hemingway was terrible and kind of a freak in a /neg way but he also had the most insane 22 years of life I have EVER heard of

buckle up y'all :)

also trigger warnings for discussions of war and not super graphic injury, dead bodies, horrifying age gaps, discussion and threats of suicide, and just generally Hemingway being a fucking awful person

guys my sources for this is 4 weeks of reading and documentary watching in English class, don't come at me if this isn't exact because i'm going mostly off memory here

so Ernest Hemingway, if you haven't heard of this guy, is a super super famous American writer remembered for his short stories and completely changing the game in literature. he was also kind of a womanizer and had like 4 wives, he was also homophobic and misogynist and stuff. in my opinion his stories are pretty average although the subtext is usually super interesting & there's a lot of great discussion to be had (I will refer you to this pdf of the complete collection of his short stories)

so anyway, Hemingway was born in 1899 and he grew up in Oak Park, Chicago, Illinois, United States of America as the second oldest of like 9 kids. growing up, his mother used to do a silly little thing where she would twin Hemingway and his older sister as either two boys or two girls, and it would be so convincing that their neighbors were confused and thought she had 2 sets of twins. Hemingway eventually grew out of that and started to hate the practice. he began to idolize his father, who was a doctor and also had depression. Hemingway blamed all of his father's issues on his mother and most people think his hatred from women stems from his hatred of his mother because he wanted to be like his dad so badly

so anyway, as much as Hemingway would grow to have literally 4 wives, he was essentially remembered as being a no bitches loser in high school. he had very few friends, sucked at most sports, was pretty clumsy because of his nearsightedness, and really enjoyed taking solo trips to hunt and fish in Michigan. by himself.

naturally, when he was 17 all he wanted was to enlist in the army and fight in WWI because he was a manly man like that. however, he was also really really scared that the army would reject him because he kind of sucked at physical exertion and was also nearsighted and so he signed up to join the red cross!! he was immediately fucking deployed to the FRONT LINES in Italy and promptly almost fainted upon seeing his first dead body. he decided he wasn't really about that almost fainting life so he decided he wanted to drive the ambulance !! and he did that pretty well. for about 2 weeks

and then he said quote unquote "i'm bored of that shit" and volunteered to BIKE up the MOUNTAINS with a CART full of CHOCOLATE AND CIGARETTES to bring to the soldiers. he was the snack boy. he was the fucking snack boy for the army. and then a mortar shell exploded like. 2 feet away from him and embedded him with an absolute Fuck Ton of shrapnel ! he actually wrote that he felt as if his soul left his body in that very moment and then floated back to him

so that absolute Fuck Ton of shrapnel stayed in his leg for quite a while actually, because when they finally got him to a hospital in Milan, he REFUSED TO BE TREATED. he said there were people that needed the treatment more and that he could live with the Fuck Ton of shrapnel for a little while longer. so anyway when he finally did get around to having like 275 pieces of shrapnel removed from his leg, he had some serious mental illness going on. he went through somewhere around 13 surgeries without any painkillers or stuff to numb the pain because a) he was super depressed and wanted to die and b) was also kind of a masochist and enjoyed the pain.

so Hemingway was in the hospital recovering for a fucking WHILE right, and he meets this nurse. she's 27 (he's like 19 or 20 or something) and her name is Agnes von kurowsky. she's his night nurse and they fell in love. they did some cute things like her leaving her hairpin under his hospital bed pillow and them reading to each other late at night. they also did some not so cute things like her calling him "kid" and also sneaking alcohol into the hospital in the wee small hours of the morning and her getting drunk on the job

anyway, Hemingway finally recovers and shit is going GREAT for him. he's got a nurse girlfriend who is 6 or 7 years older than him who writes him every day from france, and he just got back to Oak Park and the US was so impressed with his masochistic depressed surgery-with-no-painkillers thing that they gave him a medal!! so naturally, he thought he was hot shit for that. he started parading around the neighborhood in his full uniform and charging the residents to listen to him tell completely false stories about the war.

around this time was when shit started going downhill. Hemingway received a breakup letter from France from Agnes, and the letter said that she did love him, but not in a boyfriend girlfriend way. IN A MOTHER SON WAY (eeeeeeeeeeeeew). so he got son-zoned. and he wasn't very happy about that, so he decided to start partying in the woods with minors and going hunting and fishing again to prove to himself that he was still hot shit. and his parents really didn't like the "parading around in full uniform telling lies and then going to party with minors in the woods" schtick, so they told him hey ! cut that out !

direct if somewhat paraphrased quote from hemingway's dad: "shorten your temper, respect women, and fear God"

so Hemingway moved the fuck out of there and found himself ANOTHER girfriend !! her name was Hadley Richardson and she was also really really depressed. on the day of their wedding, Hemingway actually threatened suicide but she guilt tripped him into not doing that and then they moved to France and made friends with a lot of artsy people and Hemingway started writing again. He got a job for a newspaper and tried to get some of his short stories published. he got invited to a conference in Sweden at one point and met a publisher that was interested in his work. he asked Hadley to bring his work up to meet him, so she packed EVERYTHING into a trunk and took it on the train- she had it delivered to her car. when she got there, the trunk was gone. to this day we still don't know where all of Hemingway's early work is.

anyway. let's recap. AT THE RIPE AGE OF 22!! Ernest hemingway was: dressed as a girl by his mom, learned intense hatred of woman at a young age, got no bitches in highschool, got too scared to join the army, drove an ambulance, became the snack boy, got a Fuck Ton of shrapnel in his leg, underwent 13 surgeries without painkillers, fell in love with his nurse, got a medal for masochism, got son-zoned, got told to respect women and fear god, married his first of 4 wives, and lost every single one of his short stories that he had ever written

AND HE WENT ON TO DO MORE INSANE SHIT but this is getting really really long so we'll call this part 1 and i'll reblog this with some other stuff I find insane about him !!

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK SORRY THIS WAS A RANT

[shipcestuous]

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley (Episode 2)

@dragomer: We got canon future incest in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley now in chapter 2.

/

Anon #1: Hiiiii! Have you heard of the game The Coffin of Andy and Leyley? It’s mainly a horror game about cannibalism and murder, BUT it’s centered around two siblings who have a toxic, insanely codependent relationship. They’re really weird about each other but still so very much like your typical pair of bickering siblings. If you have heard of it, it’s FINALLY (yay!!) in early access right now, and part 2 (of 4) is released! Also, (SPOILERS? But it’s technically all over the Steam page reviews) canon content is 100% confirmed to contain explicit, undeniable incest in one of its routes! Like. It’s not subtext anymore. Not even sugarcoating this; it’s depicted pretty straightforwardly. And imo it’s arguably one of the “healthier”—for lack of a better word? bc I don’t think they’ll ever really be healthy by conventional standards—routes for the siblings’ relationship. If you haven’t played it yet, or haven’t checked out the newest installment, definitely recommend! The first ep was great but the second is FANTASTIC

/

Anon #2: Hi, this is the anon who was so enthusiastic about the Coffin of Andy and Leyley a couple of months ago. The full game is now in early access and can be bought on Steam, as the creator has decided (after a community poll) to release the rest of the game episodically. Currently episode 1 (which was the demo) and the shiny new episode 2 are available, with episodes 3A and 3B (different routes based on the choices made previously) being slated for release somewhere in 2024. So, we still have to wait sometime before the full game is finished. But for now, what does Episode 2 – ‘Graves’ offer us? (Warning: some spoilers) The answer is: pure gloriousness. It’s even better than I could've imagined in my wildest dreams. The relationship between Andrew and Ashley is just that amazing. Over the course of the (horrible, awful, and darkly hilarious) events comprising episode 2, we learn a lot more about our favourite pair of cannibalistic siblings. Their not-too-pleasant childhood is explored through multiple dreams and flashbacks, and for the first time we also have segments where we play as Andrew, providing the reader with direct access to what he actually thinks (and feels!) in regards to his beloved sister. And oh boy are his thoughts interesting! A lot of people who picked up on the interesting vibes between them in the first chapter assumed that they were mostly the result of Ashley’s obsessiveness, but this chapter contains an infinite amount of hints that Andrew is actually the one whose feelings towards his sibling are the most ‘romantic’ in the classic sense of the word. The way he physically touches her, the jealousness and protectiveness which was already present in the first chapter but whose full depth we actually see now for the first time, the fact that he regularly shares a bed with her to stave off his nightmares and panic attacks, but then it is revealed that he sometimes fakes them! In one flashback he asks his ex-girlfriend to tie her hair up, which would very obviously make her look even more like Ashley than she already does! At one point he literally thinks this about his sister: “You're struck with an odd urge to pull this broody bitch into your arms, and force her to stay until she smiles. But you push such an idea to the back of your mind. Where it may fester with all the other thoughts you wish you never had.” Ahhh, It’s almost too much, and that’s not even the best part yet of the episode! Depending on the choices you make, a situation can occur in which the siblings have a prophetic dream together (after falling asleep while holding hands! This game is just too much...). The contents of the dream? Well... I don’t want to spoil too much but let’s just say that a canonical incest route has now been 100% confirmed. I’ve already seen the artwork from that scene floating around on tumblr so people who have been following the TCOAAL tags might have seen it already. I could ramble about this game for hours on end but I feel like I’ve been writing and potentially spoiling way too much already. This game has completely taken over my brain and I just wanted to share that. I regret nothing!

/

This is such great news that you all bring! It does sound better than we had any reason to hope for. I will definitely have to play this, but I may wait until it is complete and officially released.

I'm so excited that the creator went full tilt on the incest, and that those of you who shipped it so hard after the demo are being rewarded with such glorious developments.

[centrumlumina]

I posted 6,803 times in 2022

That's 2,308 more posts than 2021!

47 posts created (1%)

6,756 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@astercrash

@cynassa

@scienceandstarlight

@floralprintshark

@voyaging-too

I tagged 6,799 of my posts in 2022

#batfam - 1,505 posts

#random - 783 posts

#pretty things - 777 posts

#jason todd - 504 posts

#the locked tomb - 437 posts

#writing - 422 posts

#cuties - 397 posts

#capitalism - 340 posts

#dick grayson - 295 posts

#sci fi - 293 posts

Longest Tag: 125 characters

#but also immediate headcanon that cass also felt betrayed when sheldon and amy's relationship got forced into allonormativity

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I didn’t want to have to say this, but: anyone who thinks that the Boathouse Scene was a “Girlboss moment” has completely missed the point of Katya’s character arc and, frankly, the movie as a whole.

Katya’s arc is about the ways that her life is defined by the men around her. Goncharov, Andrey, Valery - they all have their own ideas of how she should act, who she should be. She doesn’t want to be a housewife, but in the strictly gendered society she lives in, she isn’t allowed to seek fulfilment beyond that.

The subtext of the conversation in the market is pretty blatant - Katya wants to be allowed to discover who she really is away from the obligations of her family, lovers, and husband. Sofia giving her the apple represents the offer of that freedom. Some people have interpreted this as a temptation - the serpent with Eve, and all the pseudosexual tension that implies - but I view it as an intentional subversion of that image, given the way Sofia is haloed in light throughout the scene. (The homoeroticism is real, though!)

I can see where some people get confused by the ending, because Katya does successfully escape her domestic life - but she doesn’t achieve that through the spiritual offer of self-knowledge Sofia represents! Her love for Goncharov and Andrey won’t allow that. Instead she betrays Sofia and winds up in the boathouse, holding the gun; the men around her have finally dragged her into their life of violence. She might survive the end of the movie, but she has lost everything she cared about, and instead of pursuing the independence she initially wanted, it’s implied (I heard confirmed in a cast interview? if anyone has a source for that let me know!) that she returns to Russia to pursue further vengeance.

Katya’s story arc is not about her being a Girlboss - she isn’t beating the men at their own game, or if she is it’s not a game worth playing. Katya is a tragedy, and a warning about the way the violence of men damages the women around them. Killing is never something to aspire to - it is only, as Valery says, “a clock ticking down to midnight.”

260 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

#4

Did your ship make the top 5?

View the full list now on my AO3, along with the Top 100 Overall and the Top 100 Femslash pairings.

539 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

#3

What fanfic was the world writing in 2021? (AO3 Year In Review)

Click through to AO3 to read the full top 100 list of the most popular relationship tags of 2021!

637 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

#2

pre-resurrection gang is like: every friend group should include

a bimbo (cristabel)

two mean bisexuals (augustine & mercymorn)

an even meaner lesbian (cassiopeia)

she/theys (pyrrha)

he/theys (gideon)

a token straight that’s on thin ice (alfred)

two preserved corpses you puppeteer around with you (ulysses & titania)

an astrology bitch who has everyone’s birth chart memorized (nigella)

and a short king (john)

708 notes - Posted October 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Here is my Hot Tridentarii take: Babs is not Ianthe’s cavalier. Coronabeth is, and always has been, Ianthe’s cavalier. The reason Ianthe ate Babs had nothing to do with who he was, and everything to do with him not being Corona.

Ianthe and Coronabeth represent a model of the Lyctor/cav relationship to parallel Harrow & Gideon, just like Pal & Cam do. But where Pal & Cam loved each other so much they became one person, Ianthe’s choice was that she loved Coronabeth so much that she could not stand to consume her, and as a result pushed her away.

...which is exactly what Harrow did to Gideon with her home-grown lobotomy in HtN. I gave you my whole life and you didn’t even want it.

741 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[limesonspecial]

Apropos of that last reblog, I got in a fight at work this week over - of all things - dry erase markers.

See, I was asked to buy some, and for the past year and a half all I have heard is bitching about the fucking store brand markers and how they Don't Erase and Die Immediately and various other sins. So I resolved to buy the good markers, not out of brand snobbery but because they are demonstrably better. However, I am not permitted to just buy things, I must get approval. Once, this was just approval from my boss, the head of the department, but lately my workplace has been in dire financial straits so we're all being frugal and now there's an extra layer of approval to go through from outside the department. And unfortunately the chap tasked with this responsibility has been told to hold the line on the good markers because they are Too Expensive. It's come up before.

So anyway, knowing I was fighting a moderately uphill battle, I went to have a collegial chat with the guy and ask if, pretty please, we could get the good markers just this once because it's actually having an impact on how the faculty in my department do their jobs. I was told no, they're too expensive, but I'm sure we can find an alternative. Thus stymied, I went away and did the research.

Now, this is where it comes back to academic disputes. One thing any academic knows is that academics love to do research. People who are not academics do not seem to grasp this. So when I say I did the research, I mean I did the fucking research. It took me an hour or so to collate materials and write up my findings in a meticulously-cited email, wherein I presented that not only was the alternative I'd been presented nonviable (the black markers are backordered), but also right now the good markers are on sale so they're actually less expensive than the ones I'd been offered (which again, are currently only available in the more-colors-than-would-be-useful configuration). For good measure, I also went through enough pages of highly-rated search results to get about eight other alternatives, and explained concisely why they wouldn't work for our purposes (commonly: too expensive, too many colors, too few reviews for the rating to be statistically significant). The conclusion: let me buy the good markers, they're actually the fiscally responsible option right now.

Reader, he did not just let me buy the goddamn markers.

He didn't say no, exactly, but the subtext of his response was "I'll find you something, tell me what you need," as though I, a person with multiple graduate degrees, don't know how to do product research and price comparisons. Operating under the impression that he just couldn't say yes (because of a mandate from on high), I...escalated to the person who could say yes (his boss), with my boss's blessing. Unfortunately, this seems to have annoyed his boss, because something something surely we have better things to do. And on the one hand, sure. I could've been eating lunch instead of escalating. But on the other hand, researching the best solution to a problem is kind of my thing. I don't know why she's upset that I'm engaging in natural behaviors.

Anyway, long story short, we're getting the good markers because I was right. All my faculty will rejoice, and hopefully a couple more people will grasp that one should never go in against a scientist when the weapon is research. It's a classic blunder, but an infuriating one.

[starbuck]

is it possible to successfully depict a gay relationship without showing kissing/sex? Yes.

does Dave Malloy succeed at this in Moby-Dick: A Musical Reckoning? Well, going out on a limb here, but since it’s less explicit in portraying gayness than its >150 year-old source material, I’m gonna say No.

[foxilayde]

Nine [Poe Dameron x fem!Reader]

Warnings: *looks you dead in the eyes* Bitch if you only knew how long this has been in my drafts. Nearly two thousand words of cunnilingus, piv, one tickle fight, alien alcohol consumption, mixed metaphors, and the projection of sexual/emotional desires onto the best pilot in the resistance 18+ ONLY.

Summary: Idiots in love. You’re the idiot, mainly. You happen to hear something quite salacious about your bestie. And oooh boy, are you awful at keeping your shit together.

Word Count: 15.7K 

There are some things you can’t unhear. Tidbits of information that just fuck your whole day up with the implications. Specific ideas or mental images, solicited or not, that take form in your brain and proceed to run through your mind like a fathier on a racetrack. Oh Maker, you wish you could unhear this conversation. Because you know, you know after hearing all that… you’ll never be able to look at Poe Dameron the same way again. At least not for a long, long time. 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You really didn’t. You were in the stall peeing, minding your own business for Maker’s sake and they just happened to come in and have this conversation. This was on them, not on you. What were you supposed to do? Cover your ears and hum to yourself? Bolt out of the toilet without washing your hands? 

You were just having a normal, routine, piss in the cantina bathroom- spotchka going right through you, as per usual… and that’s when you heard them. Maker, you wish you’d never heard them. 

Voices coming from the sink area.

“What are you getting all dolled up for, Tella? Got a hot date tonight?”

“Ha! Hoping to! I’ve been trying to get Commander Hot Ass’s attention all evening.”

Commander Hot Ass? Is that what the recruits were calling Poe now? You snort a silent laugh as you wipe and stand up, pulling up your pants and checking your pockets to make sure you hadn’t dropped any loose credits on the stall floor. You shake your head smiling. Poe will be thrilled to hear that. Commander Hot Ass. Ha! You put your hand on the handle to flush but are stopped by the next words.

“Been there, done that, babygirl.” 

Oh… really? Your eyes go wide. You don’t want to flush to alert them to your presence, but you also don’t want to hear this… do you? No, of course not. Of course you don’t want to hear these girls discussing your commander, your best friend, your kriffing roommate like this…. Do you? You lift your hand from the handle and sit down on the seat once again… curiosity, admittedly, getting the better of you. It couldn’t hurt to just let them have their conversation, right? In fact, it would be rude to interrupt them. You bend down to scan the underside of the stalls to your left and right. Empty. Just you and Tella and…. Who’s is that other voice? She sounds familiar…

“Ohhh, you and the commander, huh?”

“Yep, just once. A while back. We didn’t date or anything. Just one night.”

You can hear the pride in her voice and the subtext of, “go on, ask me. Ask me how it was.” Whose voice is that? It sounds so familiar…. You know what? Doesn’t matter! Not your business. Oh Maker this is bad, you definitely shouldn’t be listening to this…

“How have you never mentioned this before!? Quinn! I want details! How was it?”

Quinn, huh? Quinn Penly? Hot Quinn Penly? The one with the gorgeous hair and the perfect tits?! That Quinn Penly?? Certainly sounds like her voice. Your face starts to burn and your fingernails dig into your clothed knees. 

Woah, Get a grip, girl. Why the hell is your heart racing and why, maker, why is your kriffing face getting hot?

“Well…”

You can hear the fucking smirk in her voice. She was going to play all coy as if to say “oh I don’t want to say, but since you asked…” fucking Quinn Penly. Wait, where is this hostility coming from? You don’t hate Quinn. She’s fine. Always casually pleasant to you. Get. A. Grip.

“Best I’ve ever had.”

“So, you’re saying you guys…?”

“Oh yeah. All. Night.”

“Really?”

“Dameron’s got stamina, Tella. If you’re trying to hit it, you’d better caf up first. He broke my record.”

Record? Broke her record? What the hell does that mean?

“Broke your record?” 

Thank you, Tella. Asking the important questions. On your behalf. Oh maker you are not even pretending not to listen at this point, ears strained to catch every sound, you swear you can even hear the lipstick being applied to their gossipy mouths.

“You know. My record. For how many times… you know…” 

You did not know but you could fucking guess.

“Oh! You mean…” Tella’s voice lowered, “orgasms?”

Oh maker, Quinn, please don’t answer that, please walk out of this bathroom and never ever answer that question. Let me wash my kriffing hands and live my life without this information, for stars sake.

“It was Five. Until Dameron. Now it’s Nine.”

You can’t see them, there is nothing to look at from where you’re sitting. But that doesn’t stop your eyes from going wide, and boring into the metal latch of the stall door. Maker. Nine?

“Nine?! You’re joking.”

“Uh-huh. Truth. And that was just with his tongue, too.”

Just with his… 

“You’re serious?”

“Oh yeah. Eats it like he’s starving. Wouldn’t stop until I begged him to.”

The images are pouring in now. Poe, in your top bunk, between your legs, mouth dripping with lust, just devouring- No. Stop. Nope. Nope. Lalalalalala think of something else. Anything else. Goodness, couldn’t these two have checked to make sure there was no one else in here before saying… well, THAT?

“So you’re saying I should go for it? Try and talk up the commander tonight? See if he can break my record?”

It is embarrassing how hard you are hanging onto every word, trying to breathe quietly so you won’t miss a single syllable. Even if every single word is making your stomach turn.

“I would say you should, but he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in months. That I know of.”

“Really? Why would he be depriving the female population of the resistance like that?” Tella laughs.

“I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with his roommate, you know, that cute mechanic girl that follows him like she’s his droid. I think they’re dating, but they’re kind of low key about it, they never kiss or hold hands in public or anything.”

Well shit, you’ve sealed your fate, now you can’t, simply CAN’T come out of this ladies room until well after they leave. They’re talking about YOU. Oh maker, this kriffing stall is like a prison cell. How did this turn onto you? Dameron supposedly hasn’t pulled in months and a-fucking-parrently its  because you two were dating?? What in the kriff? Is this what people thought?? And you do NOT follow him around like a droid… do you? Sure, you service his ship… and you’re best friends…. And you did come with him to the cantina tonight…. But you’re your own person. You’ve got an autonomous life, dammit. 

Well now you know why they say what they say about eavesdroppers. Maker blind you. Kriff.

“Yeah, I have seen them together. Just figured they were friends. I didn’t know they shared a room. Lucky girl. She probably has something against PDA.” 

What?? Maker, make this stop. Okay, well they’re not wrong about sharing a room, but it just makes SENSE since you keep the same schedules and you know your way around his droid and his ship and… dammit, maybe they have a point. The only other friends you have are Poe’s friends, and your schedule is undeniably dictated by his training and missions…. Still, whatever!! They don’t know shit, okay. 

“She must have restraint made of durasteel, because you’d never be able to stop me from squeezing that ass.”

Quin and Tella laugh together in agreement, the sounds of it fading as they exit the ladies room. You think you can hear Tella saying “Maker, 9 times. Well then I have to shoot my shot!”

 You put your palms over your eyes in an attempt to block out the visions invading your brain. The darkness of your shared chambers, too many limbs enclosed in the bottom bunk… No! Closing your eyes just makes the visuals more clear. So you choose to stare at the metal latch in front of you instead.  Nine times? Nine kriffing times? This shouldn’t matter, right? Just disregard it. Theres nothing to see here, folks, you’re just going to go right back out to that cantina and resume your usual spot… next to Poe “the tongue” Dameron like you never heard that. You’re going to sip spotchka, you’re going to celebrate your kriffing VICTORY and, you’re going to get that fucking look off your face.

You give it another full minute before leaving the stall. To, you know, make sure they didn’t forget a lipgloss on the counter and come back. Yeah. Not to delay the inevitable. Not at all. Get a grip, Nine. Oh maker. Your name. Your fucking name is NINE. Not your given name, obviously, but your callsign. Black Mech Nine, BM9 for roll and just “Nine” to everyone on base. Fucking great. You’ll be helpfully reminded of Quinn’s record breaking cum-fest every time someone says your name. Brilliant. 

You meet your own eyes in the mirror and wash your hands at the sink.  Cool, cool, be cool. You splash a little water on your face and point a finger at yourself. 

“You are going to go back out there and pretend like you never heard Quinn Penley. Got it? Not your business. Good.” You sniff and adjust your shirt. You are fighting a war for fucks sake, you’re in the Resistance! You could handle carrying this knowledge about Dameron. You could.

You can’t.

“Nine!! Over here, we got a booth!” Snap shouts over the loud music and you weave your way though fellow Resistance folks out celebrating a well earned battle victory. Carefree smiles and clinking drinks, even a toydarian DJ at the little stage, playing a Huteese song with a low thrumming bass. Poe is standing at the edge of the booth, he’s in the middle of a toast, glass raised in the air, when you reach the table. He stops his speech to put his arm around your shoulders. 

“And give it up for Nine! The best damn mech I’ve ever met. Could make a blaster out of the belly of a compacter droid. We’d be fucking stardust without her…. I know I would!” He’s drunk. Not wasted, but a little drunk. Drunk to the point of dishing out warm compliments for the whole room to hear. He smiles at you with such a Poe-ness and grips your shoulder. Maker damn you. The rest of the table raise their glasses and whoop in agreement.

“To Nine!” Jess cheers and takes a sip of her shooter of bright blue spotchka. The rest of the table follow her lead and Poe lets go of your shoulder to push a shot of the same into your hand. 

The resounding chant of “Nine” from the table. Every time someone addresses you, your heart is going to stop dead, you’re sure of it.

“Sit, sit!”  He gestures to the edge of the booth and you take your seat next to Jess, Poe sliding in right after you so you’re crammed between them. You stare at your drink for a moment too long while you try to remember to breathe like a human fucking being. 

Poe clinks his shot glass to the one resting in your beleaguered hand, “bottoms up, troublemaker.” 

You take a deep breath and luckily you think you pass off the act with preparing for more booze. The shot could only help your nerves at this point. You might even want to ask for another round. Maker, why are you so worked up? Because you learned something intimate about Poe? Is this how a normal best friend would behave upon learning this information about their buddy?? What if it had been Snap’s name you heard, and not Poe’s? What if Tella was planning on taking a ride on Snap’s face tonight? Would you be having a nervous fucking breakdown? Would you still be this flustered? 

You don’t want to answer that but…. You suspect not. If they’d been gossiping about Snap in the fresher, you would have come back to the table with NEWS. You would have interrupted Poe’s speech and told every kriffing member of the squad, given Snap hell for being a notorious Casanova, and shoved his ass in Tella’s direction with a breathmint. Which is how you should be treating Dameron right now, you KNOW that’s how you should be treating him. Like a pal, giving him a ribbing for making the ladies fawn over him. But you don’t. You do not treat him like that. You sit next to him like a weird little nervous monkey, which is just not like you. 

You down your shot and you hope no one asks you anything directly as you try, maker you try, to mentally go back to 10 minutes ago before you knew…. Before you knew all about Dameron and his unholy mouth with it’s magical orgasm powers. 

With all of the hyperspace capabilities at any pilot’s fingertips, there has to be some kind of machine than can take you back to a time where you didn’t know about this, right? Some sort of worm hole you can jump through and be the version of yourself that existed just ten measly minutes ago; blissfully unaware of the prowess of Dameron’s tongue. Kriffing hell. 

Poe is pushed up cosy and firm to your left side, his right arm resting on the top of the booth behind your head. Fuck, he smells like leather and soap. He’s freshly shaven and his teeth look so perfectly imperfect and pearly white with every animated word he delivers across the table to Snap and the squad. Damnit. Damn him. He’s so charming and brave and …fuck! Your stupid heart is skipping beats and if you don’t start breathing normally soon, someone is going to notice.

You make a point to stay in the moment. Get your head in the game. Just like battle. You can dwell on this shit later. Later. For now, just sip your drink, enjoy your team’s victory and calm the fuck down. You might want to start with actually listening to the story Dameron is telling.

You get your shit together infinitesimally and lean back in an imitation of a relaxed pose. This puts the back of your head on Dameron’s forearm and you try not to think about how warm and strong his forearms are while you take the offered fizzy cocktail from Jess and sip the citrusy concoction. 

Dameron is giving a play by play of the mission from earlier, waving his left arm animatedly, describing how he and Snap took out at least 8 tie fighters with consecutive shots. 

“It was just so satisfying you know? One right after the other. Bam, bam, bam!” Poe slaps his hand joyfully on the table. 

Oh holy Maker, was this how it was going to be forever? Literally everything sounding like an innuendo? 

“Clean victory today, no losses” Snap agrees. “We needed that today.”

“Great flying out there today, commander.” Your eyes go wide and you nearly sputter and choke on the foamy beverage in your mouth. You should have known you’d be witness to this. She had said she was going to make her move tonight, didn’t she?

The voice was coming out of the freshly lipsticked red mouth of one Tella Zagley. 

Poe turns to face her, as does the rest of the table. 

“Thanks…” he sounds a little confused, letting the word linger as if he’s trying to place her.

Her fingernails match the color of her lips and she brings her hand to his bicep. She scratches him lightly in what most might call a very over-the-top, I-want-you-to-rail-me fashion. She pops her hip and bites her lip “Maybe you can take me flying sometime, hmmm?” 

Oh maker, is she serious? You don’t want to blame a girl for trying, and you certainly aren’t slut shaming, but kriff, Tella. Put some subtlety on it. Who knows, maybe this works for her. Maybe thats the exact pickup line that would make Dameron weak. You don’t know. You’ve certainly never tried. 

Poe laughs a little and says, “Oh yeah? Don’t you think it’d be a little crowded in the x-wing? It’s only got one seat.” 

She shrugs, focusing her eyes on the fingernails tracing his bicep through his shirt. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’m sure we can manage.” 

You turn to Jess and share a look over the respective rims of your drinking glasses. For a second time this evening you pretend that you can’t hear Tella’s conversation that is happening right in front of your face. Is he- Is he falling for this? Is he into this? Tight squeeze? Blagh! Why doesn’t she just lick his face? It’d be more ambiguous. 

“You know what, Tanya? I am sorry, but I really don’t think I’d be able to take off with you on my lap.” 

You snort into your drink and try, unsuccessfully, to play it off as a cough.

Tella narrows her eyes at you, scoffs at Poe and she’s off, successfully shot down. 

“What’s up with her?”

“Her name is Tella, not Tanya.” 

Poe cringed, “That was kind of mean, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity, do you think I should apologize?”

You shrug at him.

He turns toward the direction of her departure and yells “sorry, Terra!” 

You slap his chest and hiss “Tella, you doofus!”

“Well shit, guess I wont be getting a tight squeeze after all.” He laughs and you roll your eyes. Luckily the music is loud and its doubtful she heard any of that. 

“Please don’t say ‘squeeze’ ever again. I’m fucking traumatized- I’ll never look at a citrus the same way.”

Poe snatches the wedge of citrus fruit from the rim of your cup and squeezes it into the glass. 

“You mean like this? Like tight squeeze like this?” He stretches out the word squeeze as the liquid squirts into your cup. His eyes are tight and smiling, tipsy and teasing. 

You shriek and slap his chest, “You’re disgusting!”

Poe cackles deviously and absentmindedly brings the rind of the fruit to his mouth to lick the pith like a filthy fucking animal, he brings it up to cover his mouth lengthwise and licks and sucks the fucking juice out of it with an obscene slurping sound. He closes his eyes and treats that rind like a third date, holy. shit.

Well.

You cant exactly help the way your jaw nearly drops to the tabletop. He “mmmm”s and sets the rind down on his napkin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks over and you and catches your dumbfound expression. 

“What? Do I have something-“ he wipes his mouth up and down, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “Did I get it?”

You’re lagging in response. Like someone just turned you on and is waiting for you to warm up. Well, thats a thought. 

He’s still wiping his mouth and you shake your head to rattle your brain loose. “You got it, you got it, it’s gone.” 

Maker, what he did to that rind was probably considered a proposal on certain planets. And he just did it like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t even the thing he did to tease you. He squeezed the fruit to tease you, he then licked all the insides, not as a part of the teasing, but…. Because that’s just what he wanted to do. You’re forgetting to breathe all over again and your face is getting hot staring at the tongue scraped peel that lies satiated on the napkin. 

The rest of the evening at the cantina goes better than you think it would. True, you couldn’t look Dameron in the eye, and there was also the incident where he clapped you on the shoulder when he returned from the bar to deliver a fresh round to the table and you flinched so hard you nearly knocked Jess’s drink out of her hand. 

“You okay, Nine?” Nine. Fucking nine. Nine fucking times.

You have never been spazzy like this before and there’s no reason for you to be behaving this way, you’re all supposed to be celebrating for Maker’s sake. Indulging in the lack of enemies, not on high alert in the anticipation of attack behind every corner.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Jess. Feeling a little bit ill, sorta. Also tired. I think, I dunno. I’m going to head to bed though, so,” you nudge Dameron’s thigh with your own. “Move it, flyboy.” 

“Those shots are going right through you, huh?” He laughs. Standing up, shot in hand, ready to take it with the table. 

“I’m not peeing,” you wince, horrified at the idea of going back to the bathroom, to the scene of your mental unraveling. “I’m leaving. Going to bed.”

The grin drops from his face, and his eyes round concernedly. “You okay Nine? The party’s just started. And, I’m not trying to hold you to anything, buuuut you did say you could beat me at darts and I see a game opening up right now. Whatcha say, one more drink, one round of darts, Nine?”

“Maker, don’t CALL me that right now!” You shout it frustration. 

Poe’s eyes go wide “Hey hey hey, I’m sorry. If you wanna go to bed, I’m not going to stop you. Just wanted to make sure-“ 

“Its-“ you sigh “Its fine Poe. I’m fine, just really need some rest.” You bump him on the chest with your fist and turn to leave. He grabs your arm. 

“Let me get my jacket and I’ll walk you back.”

“Poe, enjoy the party. I’ll be fine.”

“Stay here, I’m getting my jacket.”

What is the point in leaving to get away from him if he’s just going to follow you back to your room? You use the two seconds of time between him holding your arm and coming back to think of an excuse, any excuse to get away from him. You contemplate just turning and leaving, but before the thought even forms, he’s got your arm in his and you’re leaving the Cantina, heading back to base. 

“Poe, you really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to, but I’m not letting you stumble back in the dark. Plus, I’m tired too. We’ve got a 10am call time and if I don’t leave now, I’d probably fall asleep in the booth.”

He chuckles, obviously hoping you’d clear the air with some laughter of your own. But all you can think about is your arm in the crook of his elbow and how perfectly his steps fall with your own. 

“Did you leave your jacket in there? We can head back-“

“No, I didn’t bring one.” The admission sends goose pimples down your bare arms and Poe unlocks his hold on your arm to put his jacket over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you mutter. His jacket still retains the heat of him and it smells like him. Like blaster residue and engine oil, like floral soap from Nevaroo and a hint of sweat. You shake a little and its nothing like the shiver of cold you felt moments ago.

You can see the lights of the base from where the trees clear in the distance and its not long at all until you’re on the familiar dirt path to your home away from home. 

Poe hums to himself, one of the songs that was playing this evening. You’re surprised that you recognize it. He hums and whistles to himself somewhat frequently in your down time. The sounds that might annoy you coming from anyone else are always comforting coming from him. They’re the sounds of peace and contentment; feelings that are largely hard to come by in the midst of a war. You lean your head on his shoulder when you reach the entrance, winding through windowless tunnels. The life that usually sprinkles the base is quiet, mostly everyone is still celebrating and you feel guilty for dragging Poe away from the ruckus. 

When you finally reach your bunk hallway he squeezes your hand in the junction of his elbow with an unnecessary tightness and hisses, “tight squeeze!” 

You can’t help but snort at the reference and he lets your arm go completely to punch in the key code. “I knew I could make you laugh!” 

You get inside and turn the lights on manually, the door swoops and clicks closed behind the two of you. You hang up Poe’s jacket on the usual hook behind the door.

“Sooo, you going to tell me whats wrong?” Poes arms are crossed, Linen shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, he quirks a brow and tilts his head for you to answer. 

You bend over to unbuckle your boots, shaking them off your feet and placing them in their usual spot by the door. Maker its so hard to look at him. “Nothings wrong, Poe.”

“Bantha shit.” 

“Poe, please just drop it.”

“Why don’t you want me to call you ‘Nine’?” His hands prop on his hips and his face gives you that look. He knows theres a mystery to be solved and he’s too stubborn to drop it. Maker how did he catch that? Well, you did sort of… shout that he should stop calling you that. Shouted. Kriff. You thought you could blame this all on Quinn and Tella, but if the truth comes out which it will most certainly not, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. 

You can tell your silence is irking him a bit. He taps his foot impatiently, “You were fine when we were walking over there! Something happened,” he narrows his eyes and wags a finger at you. “Something happened between the time we went into the Cantina and the time you came back from taking a leak and I want to know who I have to blame for that.” 

Maker, was he pretending to be drunk earlier? Were you really that bad at hiding your distress? At this rate he’ll detective his way to the answer before midnight. 

“Speaking of taking a leak” You grab your nightclothes and go to the tiny fresher attached to your room and close the door behind you. You splash water on your face and change quickly, but still stand in front of the mirror for a few dead moments. Don’t tell him, just don’t admit it! It’s that fucking easy. There’s no way for him to know as long as you don’t tell him. And how in the hell are his detective skills really THAT GOOD? He was tipsy! The fact that you're apparently so easy to read is a forceful blow to your ego- you had indeed been as transparent as you dreaded. 

You can’t stay in the tiny fresher forever. You sigh and go back out into the room. Poe hasn’t budged an inch. Hands still on his hips, he’s not even getting ready for bed yet. Boots still on, holster and blaster still in place. Probably because he isn’t kriffing tired. Neither are you, though. It was all pretense, just to get away from it and run scared. Maker, you’re not a fighter, you’re not built to put up defenses and find an opening- and the way he’s trying to breach your perimeter is leaving you feeling outnumbered though it’s only one on one. You’re a helper, not some kind of hero. You love that about him, his bravery, but why is this so terrifying? The air in the room is tense and the buzzing of the warm yellow light from your lamp sounds so fucking loud right now. Even his stare seems to have a volume to it and you want to put your hands over your ears and tell him to 'shut up’ even though he isn’t saying anything at all. You toss your dirty oil stained clothes in the hamper and fold your vest to put in your tiny drawer next to your shared bunk. 

“I’m not going to drop this, so you might as well tell me now, Nine.” He emphasizes your name and you cringe. 

“I really wish you would drop it, commander.” Using the same emphasis on his title that he used on yours. That’s a tactic, you guess. Be a child about it. Nothing could go wrong with that big-brained maneuver. 

“Poe, I know you’re worried about me, I know you feel some kind of responsibility for me, but just trust me when I say I’m fine and I’d rather get ejected into dead space without a helmet rather than tell you what’s going on so, please, as a friend, if you care about our friendship, please drop it.”

You know it’s a low blow, to put the qualification of being a good friend on leaving you alone. Especially since the exact opposite is true. The fact that he cares so much, that he’d leave the party, his celebration party, to walk you back and patiently watch you throw a petulant little fit— it’s a testament to the depth of his caring for you. He’s still dressed even, probably in case he needs to go rough someone up for making you upset. And he would, with just a name- he would.

But all the pity in the fucking galaxy couldn’t make you open your mouth, you’re not even sure if you could form the words in front of him if you wanted to. What would you even say? ‘Well I’m feeling really antsy learning that I’ve been sharing a bunk with a sex god and I think I might have a crush on you and P.S. Quinn Penly isn’t even that cute when you think about it!’

“Scuse me”, you say instead, as you step around him to get to the ladder to your top bunk.

“Oh no, little girl. You’re not getting off that easy.” His tone is a mixture of amusement and frustration, but he doesn’t move to stop you from crawling into bed and getting under the thin blanket. Your head is on the pillow and you face the small room. Poe’s height is just so, that it matches up his face perfectly level with yours. Maker, you were trying to get away from him, so why is he right here?

“What are you going to do? Stand there all night and watch me sleep?” You scoff.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Nine.” He plants his booted feet at the floor, shins touching the side of his bunk probably, judging by the way his chin is practically resting on the corner of your pillow. “I know torture tactics, you know.” 

“You gunna torture me?” You challenge half heartedly. 

“Course not. Don’t be stupid, but I am going to stand right here until you tell me what it is.” 

“Suit yourself” you turn over. Maybe if you pretend to sleep, he’ll get bored. Ha, that might work on Jess maybe, but Poe? Fat chance. 

“Nuh uh”, forcing his hand on your shoulder, he turns you around. “Here’s what I know already, I know it happened tonight, I know it has something to do with “nine”, and I know you’re crazily embarrassed to tell me. Does it have something to do with me?”

“Fuck! Please stop guessing!”

“That’s a yes.”

“Drop it, Dameron!!” You insist through clenched teeth. 

 “Oh maker, you’re really embarrassed. Nine! Is it something you did?”

“No!"

“So it is about me. “

“How-wha—No! No more clues, no more guessing. Don’t you have a war to fight or something?? Don’t worry about it. Everything is going to be fine. I am fine, you are fine and just, gah! Drop it!”

How the fuck is he doing this, how can he read you like this, like a fucking book, all open and fluttering with every word of your secret shame stamped on the surface of your skin. People truly don’t give him enough credit. Those who don’t know him well assume he spent all his luck points on flying acumen and good looks- but he can be observant when he wants to be. Very observant as it turns out. Maker, he’s fucking annoying. 

Poe’s eyes light up like a damn supernova at your outburst and his mouth turns devious. You know that look. That’s the same fucking look he had on his face when Snap bet him he couldn’t do a triple spin through the crater on Bespin in that fucking joke of a tanker ship. Goddammit. This was a competition in his mind. To make you crack. And you’re hardly a fortress of durasteel. You’re more like limpest crepe paper, without enough tensile dignity to even mark the finishing line of a footrace. 

“Oh you’re going to tell me.”

Your face crumples in, brow wrinkling and you put your face directly onto the pillow, perhaps you can cut off enough oxygen like this and pass out, therefore making it impossible to speak and unleash stupid fucking bathroom sink secrets. You pull the blanket up over your head as an additional barricade, calling in the reinforcements- because all he has to do is poke a finger through your barely-there shields and he’d have it. You know at some point he’s going to get what he wants, because he’s Poe stinking Dameron and he’s never looked this stupidly thrilled at the prospect of winning anything. 

“Can you at least tell me why you don’t want me to know?” His tone doesn’t match the grin you shielded yourself from, he sounds quiet and he places a comforting palm on the mound of you-shaped blanket that is your shoulder.

“Hmm?” His tone caught you so off guard that you didn’t quite understand the question.

“So far I haven’t been given a compelling argument on why exactly I shouldn’t make you tell me what’s bugging you.” He drums his fingers on your huddled shoulder. “Hey, I’m a fair guy. Some might even say reasonable, level-headed, calm, soothing—“

“Ha!”

He lets out a breath of tired amusement. “Nine, I didn’t want to have to break out the big guns but… I actually wasn’t kidding about those torture tactics.”

You pull the blanket down your face and peek one eye out from behind the blanket. His expression is somber with an exaggerated frown and he nods. 

“No” you warn. He wouldn’t.

“Oh, Yes. I’m afraid, yes. You leave me no choice. My hands are tied.” He brings up his hands to the level of his face so that you can see them. “Or are they… very much not… tied?” His eyes go wide, his fingers take on a menacing claw-rigidity and you scream while you scramble to fully cocoon yourself in the blanket. 

“You’re really going to resort to this huh?! Lower than Correlian street fighter tactics, I’m disappointed in you, Damerooon!” Your words emerge in stilted shrieks, you twist away as best as you can against the feel of his scuttling fingers making pinching contact with the sides of your ribs, up your armpits  and to whatever part of your neck he can reach through the blanket. He’s going to tickle the truth out of you. Maker, he’s really 5 years old, isn’t he?

You kick and try to twist away from him, but there’s nowhere to go, even if you were to leave your little cocoon, he’s towering over you now, standing on his bunk, blocking any chance of an exit. He’s pinned both of your knees with one hand and and is targeting that spot on your ribs that makes you helplessly kick your feet and fruitlessly attempt to shove at his shoulder.

“Ahhhh! Bastaaard!” You scream with a higher pitch than is normal. Poe chuckles darkly, gritting his teeth and zoning in on your neck now. 

“I will ahhh!! I will bite you!” 

“I’d like to see you try!” He singsongs through gritted teeth with the effort of pinning your jerking legs.

“Ah-haaahuuuhaaa!! Okay oKAY! I- Maker- I will tell you just STOP!”

Poe settles his hand on your clavicle and pats it, giving a very satisfied smile. 

“Was that really so hard?”

“Unfair.”

“Desperate times called for desperate measures.”

You remove your hands from the junction of his shoulder and smooth your hair out of your eyes. He’s still standing on his bunk and you can see all of him from the waist up, his hand doesn’t leave your blanket-bound knees, but he does release some of the pressure. He looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised. The bastard fights dirty.

You groan, “you’re really not going to drop this, are you?” 

He gives you an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look and shakes his head, “Duh. I can, and will, do this all night.”

“Fuck” you grumble. Why did he have to fucking phrase it like that?? All night. Just like Quinn said. Merciless. 

Poe takes a deep breath and raises his face to the ceiling. 

“Me and you, we don’t keep secrets from each other, ‘kay? It’s bad for business.” He looks at you seriously now, eyebrows knitted together in concern, “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m-“ you want to defend that you are, in fact not afraid, thank you very much… but you are. You are afraid. There’s no going back to the way things are if you tell him the the thing you don’t want to tell him. It’s not a physical change- it’s a chemical reaction. It’s not like adding salt to water, where you can separate the two later, it’s like mixing hydrochloric acid and sodium hydroxide, forever altering the state of the matter. Because it’s not just about the thing that you overheard, it’s the context that he now has. How much you’re fighting trying to keep this information to yourself, you’re resisting the combination and making the forthcoming reaction that much more volatile. 

“Tell me. Please. You can trust me.”

Of course you can trust him. It breaks your heart a little that he even has to remind you. And you cant live like this forever, trying to scoop out acid with one hand and a base with the other and holding them behind your back; all the while acting like they aren’t melting your fucking skin off. 

“Ill tell you.”

“Attagirl!”

“But- could you, like, lie down in your bunk while I tell you, please. I don’t think I can literally face you right now.”

Poe shrugs his shoulders and steps off his bunk. He disappears from sight and you stare up at the ceiling and try to reign in your pounding heart. Maker. 

His bed squeaks softly beneath you.

“I’m laying down. This had better be good.” 

You put your palms up to your eyes but when you do you’re assaulted by the image you had earlier in the bathroom of Poe, hot and ravenous between your legs. Fuck. Bad idea. You stare at the grey ceiling instead, eyes unfocused. 

“I don’t even know how to start.”

“Considering the awkward setup, I think you can start with ‘forgive me father, for I have sinned’” 

You take Bigsby: your stuffed reptile, and swing him harshly under the bed where it softly thunks against Poes guffawing chest. 

“You’re not funny, Dameron.”

“Aww, c’mon. Tell me, my child.”

You grit your teeth. Moment of truth. This is the only logical path here now. You think, for a few seconds; that you could lie to him. Your brain is screaming at you to lie… but he’d know, wouldn’t he? If you were to lie, you’d have to think up something outrageous and fictitious and innocent on the spot… Maker, there’s nothing. Nothing at all. And you owe it to him. You owe him the truth. He’s right. You don’t keep secrets from each other. It’ll be a leap of faith, of course. You feel like you’re standing on a precipice about to hurl yourself blindly into something deep and terrifying, no chute no cord, but how scary could it be? Poe is there, somewhere in the recesses of the void with his arms outstretched telling you ‘everything is going to be fine. Just jump.’

You inhale deeply, grateful for the lack of him staring directly at you.

You lie there for a few more seconds, simply luxuriating in the peace of being Poe’s best friend. You don’t know what will come after this, but good or bad, it’ll never be the same. Poe doesn’t urge you along, he’s quiet and you wonder if he’s got his eyes closed in frustration or if he’s staring at your mattress above him, sending you encouraging thoughts with his sweet intentions. 

“You can do it.” He says simply. 

The second one then. Of course. You smile.

“You promise not to make fun of me too much?”

“Uhhh…. No.”

“Poe!”

“I’m kidding!” He taps the bottom of your mattress, “I will make fun of you just the right amount.”

You roll your eyes. Bastard thinks he’s real funny.

“So funny that I forgot to laugh.”

“Oh come on, of course I’m not going to make fun of you. Not only will I not make fun of you, I will never tell you how silly I think you’re being for doing this whole thing. No matter how unnecessary and downright adorable it may be. Ever. I will never- not in a million years, mention what a total goober you’re being-“

“Oh KAY! I get it!” 

Poe chuckles softly to himself and you follow too, bed creaking faintly from your incredulous fit of giggles. I mean, look at you, you made him lie down so you could tell him this dumb thing you overheard in the bathroom, and you’re not even telling him.

“I’m being silly. Ugh, it’s just- I,” rip it, like a bandaid, just go. “I overheard something in the bathroom and, maker its so stupid.”

Poe is silent, waiting for you to continue.

“It was… Quinn Penly and Tella Zagley. And they were talking about you. I was in the stall and they didn’t know I was there. Maker, I hope they didn’t know I was there. Anyway, Tella was saying how she was trying to get your attention and wanted to ask you out and Quinn told her she had hooked up with you before and that you’re some kind of sex wizard long story short and they talked about how you hadn’t hooked up with anyone in a while and they thought you and I were dating which in retrospect seems really messed up that Tella would do the whole tight squeeze right in front of me if she really thought that was the case and anyway that’s all okay.” 

The waterfall of words feels like a surge of projectile vomit with no pauses, and you actually wonder if he caught all of that. Maker you hope to the stars he did, because there’s no way you’re going to repeat yourself. You’re so glad you’re laying down because you feel as though you’re about to fucking faint.

The silence you’re greeted with is deafening and goes on for an eternity. Is he holding back laughter? Is he shocked? Just one disadvantage of not being able to see his face, but you’re fairly certain if you had been within face-view, you never would’ve gotten all that information out.

“And the nine thing?" His voice betrays absolutely nothing.

Fuck, of course, you glossed over the most salacious part. Idiot.

“Quinn may have went into some detail and she may have let slip that you may have possibly that one time madehercumninetimes which she saidwasarecordbreakingnumber andthatyoudiditwithjustyourtongue.”

“Uhm, what?”

He’s not torturing you by goading you into saying it again, like some kind of sports champ cupping their ear at the roaring crowd in an ‘I can’t hear you’ mock display of bravado. He legitimately didn’t hear you because you barfed out that last bit in a steaming bowl of garbled language soup.

“She said. You made her cum nine times. With your mouth. Record breaking.”

“That’s the nine thing?”

“That’s the nine thing.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope. That’s all.”

His bed squeaks and he stands back at his spot, he rests his forearms on the lip of you bed and plants his chin on the back of his hand.

“Actually,” you amend, meeting his soft expression. Maker, he’s so close. “that’s not all.”

“Oh? More sexcapades?”

“The recruits have a new nickname for you. Commander Hot Ass.”

“That’s not very creative.”

You squint in mock contemplation, “It really isn’t.”

“It used to be Hoe Dameron.” He grumbles.

You shriek out a laugh. “Okay, now that is creative. Hoe Dameron. I’ve never heard anyone call you that.”

“Yeah, they stopped a while back.”

“Why’s that? You tickled them all to death?”

“No, I never minded the name” he shrugs, “Just haven’t been living up to the title lately.”

You stare at each other for a beat. He looks tired. You saw him shave this very morning in your shared fresher and already a fine layer of stubble shadows his face, texturing the steady planes of his jaw.

“You can make fun of me now if you want. You have my full permission to call me a bantha brain from now until Life Day.”

Poe shakes his head. “I didn’t mind everyone thinking I was….”

“A hoe?” You offer.

“A hoe” he smiles and it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But I-” he tugs at the crown of his hair with an open fist, digging his forehead into your mattress. “Maker I’m going to lie back down for this”

He moves to duck back under to the bottom bunk, but you stop him by grabbing the loose collar of his unbuttoned shirt. Seriously, Dameron, why even have the buttons if you’re not going to use them? At a certain point it’s considered a waste of resources. 

“Don’t.” You plead. He’s the brave one here, if he can’t face you, you’re fucking doomed.

“Oh I see, so you can hide from stuff, but not me, is that right?” His tone is light and teasing, the way it always is. But the wry assessment cuts through you. You let go of his collar but he doesn’t go to the bottom bunk to hide, he faces you straight on. He purses his lips before deciding on, “I don’t want you to think I’m… the type of guy who uses people to get off or something.”

“I don’t think that.” 

“You don’t.” He says, unconvinced. 

“Of course not! I know you’re not like that.”

“Then… then why were you so upset? You couldn’t even look at me. I mean, look at you! You’re hiding, hiding in the fresher, under the blankets…” 

Maker, is that what he thinks? That you’re disgusted by him?

“That’s- that’s not why I couldn’t look at you! I couldn’t look at you because… because…” fuck here it comes. You can feel your heartbeat shaking your whole body, the wretched thing in your chest desperately trying to escape the confines of your very being, you imagine the thudding of it has to be quaking the whole bunk. 

“It’s not that part, it’s… well she said that you haven’t been with anyone since we’ve been friends. That I follow you around like a droid… I’m- be honest with me, am I cramping your style? Should I give you some space? I can kick it in the rec area if you want to you know, bring dates back here or something. This is a shared space, I hate to think you can’t, you know, be yourself, because you’re babysitting me or something.”

You say that, yes you say you can ‘kick it’, but the thought of Poe bringing someone else back here, to your little haven? And doing maker only knows what to their bits is just too much to really consider. If he did, that’d be just fine, but you would by no means be “kicking it”, more like pacing around the base, getting your hands dirty with anything that you could conceivably maintenance in order to get your mind off of it.

“Cramping my style, she says!” Poe slaps his hand on the bunk, startling you a little. “Is that what’s got you so bugged?”

“Well, yeah, kind of… “ it sounds silly when he puts it that way but it’s true. “You took me under your wing when I first got here and…”

“You know, you know better than anyone, except for maybe the general, that I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. And the opposite too, no one, not even you can make me do something I don’t want.” 

That is true. As a commander, he’s much better at giving the orders than taking them. 

You nod your agreement and pull the blanket a little more down your face. “I told you I was being stupid. Bantha brain, remember?”

“Not stupid. Not at all. Quinn on the other hand… maker, she certainly has a lot of opinions, doesn’t she?”

You hum noncommittally. “You two have, a…. history, huh?”

Poe covers his face with one hand, dragging it over his stubble in a way that makes a very appealing scratchy sound.

“Not really. It was, sheesh, over a year ago. And just the once. She’s cute, you know, but… yeah, just the once” he finishes the statement quickly and dismissively. 

“She seemed to enjoy herself, I mean. Nine times!” You pull the blanket down your legs and clap your hands together, resting them on the fold of the thin cover. 

“There she is! that’s the kind of response I would have expected from you! Not hiding away. Yeah, wow. Knew it was… something like that, didn’t realize she was able to keep count.”

“What do you mean, like, was she out of it?”

“Nine want’s the dirty deets, huh?” He pokes your tickle spot on your ribs and you swat his wrist.

“Oh maker, forget it!”

“No no no, i’m happy to share. You know what a humble guy I am.”

You bark a laugh.

“Humble Dameron. Your new nickname.”

“Don’t let the general hear you. No, Quinn wasn’t out of it. She was very into it. She was… well, you know what it’s like.”

“No I don’t. I very much do not know what it’s like. The legendary skills of Hoe Dameron.” You sit up now, cross legged and leaning towards him, eager and relieved that nothing has changed. Your banter is back. You’re teasing him, just like good friends.

“Maker, are you really asking me about this?”

“Go on! I do, I really want to know.”

“I don’t think I reinvented the wheel or anything. I just… it’s like that every time, you know, I do my thing and everyone seems pleased all around.”

“What kind of ‘dirty deets’ are those?” You accuse, “My grandmother has a filthier mouth.”

“You want a play by play or something? Is that really-“

“What if I do?”  

The air in the room shifts palpably. You didn’t intend for it to come out sounding like that exactly… but Maker, that was a tone adjustment. If that statement had a scent, it’d be jet fuel. The words the a period of a final chapter and the first words of the next novel. Maybe you had read everything wrong, maybe things had changed.

His expression turns dark and your tummy does what feels like 20 little somersaults, and maker you can feel your fucking lungs shake on an exhale. 

“You want the dirty details? The play by play, you got it. Okay, Nine, I start off with a little bit of kissing: pretty standard moves, I’ll get my hands in her hair, rub her scalp a little while I kiss her nice and slow, that one is a signature move- the scalp rub… gets em purring like a loth cat.” 

“mmmhmm” you say with closed lips, afraid if you open your mouth, a wave of drool will emerge. 

His tongue flicks out to lick his bottom lip, which he promptly drags between his teeth. Fuck. 

“I’ll- lemme show you.” He reaches a hand tentatively you your hair, your eyes grow wide with panic, he angles his brow toward you. “This okay?” Maker fuck his voice is deep. Like really really deep and soft. Shit.

You nod your head, in for a credit- in for a tare, and he firmly, with measured pressure, cups the back of your scalp, fingers sliding into your hair, his thumb rests warm and present, right behind your ear. You shiver. Fucking shiver, no denying it. Maker, he’s not even doing anything, his hand is perfectly still, and you’re quaking like fault line of a magma-cooled planet. 

He rubs his thumb on the soft bit of skin between your ear and hairline and you can’t stop yourself from closing your eyes and leaning in to the warm tingly feeling, the soft pad of his thumb is scratching an itch you didn’t know you had and the effect is like picking at a bug bite, the relief coexisting with the urge to scratch harder. 

“That’s good, right?”

“Y-yeah… good.” The words don’t even feel like they’re coming out of your mouth. When the hell did you forget how to speak?

His thumb doesn’t stop its work and your breathing gets deep and ragged. Poe steps back up on his bunk, coils squeaking under his calf-high boots; the extra foot of height causes him to tower over you when he leans his belly on your mattress. He brings his other hand to the opposite side of your head and mirrors the same action. Your head is cradled preciously in his cupped palms and, maker, the thumbs, his touch is like a million tickling microscopic live-wires, sparking deliciously, buzzing your brain until your whole being is liquid metal. 

You can’t lean into one without leaning away from the other and you don’t want to lean away at all. Signature fucking move, indeed. You scoot your body so you’re facing him directly so one of his arms doesn’t have to work harder than the other. You’re sure the look on your face is dopey as hell and the only thing you can do is keep your eyes closed so he can’t see how idiotically they roll to the back of your head. 

“I- I kiss her, while I do this….”

Fuck, you had forgotten about why the hell this was even happening, past and future had ceased to be, dropping your pliant form firmly in the present. 

“Okay” 

And when you say that, when you say ‘okay’, you consciously mean it as an ‘i understand’, but there must be something about your tone, or your body language or the way that you involuntarily moan or shift or something because Poe asks you, “do you want me to kiss you?”

Your eyes are still closed and hands reach up to his wrists and you grip them gently. His thumbs don’t stop. And it’s a real fucking question, isn’t it. Do you want him to kiss you? Do you want everything to change? Do you want to give up your friendship and exchange it for something more, more risky, less stable, more volatile? But he’s holding you so tenderly and he’s standing on his kriffing bed in his damn boots and he’s waiting for your reply with patient eyes. This stance has got to be giving his lower back and arms a real workout while he demonstrates everything he has to offer to you. He’s holding it all so steady, on a platter, and it could all be yours if you only reached out and grabbed it. He’s so much braver than you- you who hid in the fresher and the stall and under blankets and behind excuses. He’s offering. It’s like he said earlier, no one can make him do a damn thing he doesn’t want to do. He’s not asking if he can kiss you because he wants to accommodate you, he’s asking because he’s Poe and he’s sweet and maybe pleasing you just so happens to be the only thing he wants. 

Your fingers glide over the light dusting of hair on his thick forearms, they hit the rolled up sleeves of his loose linen shirt, stroking them back and forth and you nod, head tilting gently in the embrace of his palms. 

“Y-yes?” You can’t help the way your voice trembles and even you aren’t sure if it’s from excitement or from fear. 

He tilts your head in his hands, making the perfect angle to press his warm lips to yours, you feel but don’t see the his face draw close to yours. His breath and his voice are right there, on your lips and he says, “open your eyes. Don’t hide from me.”

He wants you to open your eyes? Right before he’s about to kiss you? Seems a little counterintuitive, but maybe it’s another one of his signature moves. You tell yourself to open your eyes. It’s a simple request, one you usually perform without conscious thought, but for some reason you want to stay hidden, to keep the one barrier remaining between you and Poe.

“What are you afraid of?” It’s the second time he’s asked you that question tonight, and you’re worried the answer might just shatter you. He’s holding you like precious glass, like a delicate arc of fine eggshell, and wether he lets you go or holds you closer- it’s going to crack, either fucking way.

“I- I… I don’t want anything to change. I want to…but I don’t want it to change.”

You can feel the way he shakes his head, his nose rubbing laterally over your own.

“Silly girl. Nothing- not a damn thing could ever change the way I feel about you.”

You open your eyes at that, slowly, carefully, like the anticipated curtain after an overture. You find his caf-brown eyes right up against yours; open and inviting. Fuck. He’s so big, he’s all you can see. And his lips, his lips are right there, ruggedly framed with prickly stubble that you’re certain has grown a millimeter or two since the tickle fight.

“Is this… is this one of your moves? Because it’s really really good.” If he said that to all the ladies, you can see why he’s got the reputation he does. He hasn’t stopped rubbing your scalp and you faintly wonder if you could actually cum from just the pleasure of his thumbs on your scalp alone.

A hot huff of laughter fans over your parted mouth. His eyes flit back and forth between yours. 

“No, the pièce de résistance is something I like to call a tight squeeze, I’ll show you later if you want.”

“You’re a dork, you know that?” You mean it to come out teasing, the way you always say it. But it’s soft, it’s barely there, it’s breathless and sensual; exhaled, rather than spoken. 

“You going to to call me names or are you going to kiss me?” 

Fuck. You love him. You’re just totally and helplessly in love with him. And so you do what someone in love does, you close the gap. You leap, without chute without cord, you jump into the void hoping to be caught in his wide embrace.

You tentatively press your lips to his, he’s still cradling your head preciously and his thumbs stop rubbing for the first few seconds of your lips meeting his-  he’s shocked into stillness. His lips are soft and firm and he tastes like citrus and spotchka. He kisses so slowly with so much fucking intention like he’s trying to absorb everything about you. And then he quickly remembers his signature move of rubbing your scalp and the combination is heaven. The motion of his lips is like the the way his thumbs rub your scalp, a smoldering sparking thing with a steady heat. Your chin and nose graze his prickly stubble, your smooth skin catching on it a bit like sandpaper. 

You have thought about this. What it would be like to kiss him. Especially in the mornings when he’s sleepy and you bring him caf and he winks at you from his bunk with his hair all mussed and his face all pillow-marked. You’ve thought about it, just saying ‘fuck it’ and diving into the lower bunk with him to feel his skin on yours and to kiss his warm sleepy mouth.

And now you’re actually kissing him; Poe, your Poe, and he’s good, Maker he is so fucking good and slow and warm; he’s showing you his moves and you don’t care if he’s kissed Quinn Penly exactly like this, just once or a even a hundred times, because this feels special. It feels handcrafted for you and when you peep your eyes open during the kiss to make sure it’s really happening, you see the way his shoulders are shrugged and how his brow is creased- like he’s putting in all the effort in the galaxy to show you just how good he can make everything for you. 

You scoot forward, letting your lips get clumsy while you seat yourself on the edge of the mattress and let your legs hang on either side of Poe’s torso. He hums in approval at your new position and lets one hand leave your head to rub gently on your thigh. 

“So” you break the kiss. “What’s your next move?”

Poe is breathless, like you, and his lips are pink and kiss swollen and so lovely you want to dive back in and grab him by the hair when you do.

You slide your hands up behind his ears and give him the same massaging movement he’s been giving you, trying to do the actions exactly like him, circling your thumbs on the soft patches of skin. His eyes roll back a bit and he humms like a pleased loth cat. 

“What did you ask me?” He tries to snap out of the daze you’ve put him under. You know exactly how blissful this feels for him and you know he does it on others, but has anyone ever done it for him?

“I said, what’s your next move?”

Poe looks confused. So you continue, “the play by play? What’s next?”

“Oh… oh! Well, I… move down to the neck.”

“Uh huh.”

“Can I show you?”

“Please.”

Using the hand on your scalp, Poe tilts your head to the side slightly, exposing your neck, and he begins to lick and suck gently at the sensitive skin there. His mouth is so warm and soft except for the gentle scratch of his facial hair, and the tiny scrape of teeth on the sensitive flesh of your neck makes you moan and clutch the backs of his shoulders and clench your thighs around his waist. 

“Fuck, that’s good. That’s really good, Poe.”

“Mmmhmmm,” he hums, not stopping the ministrations of his lips on your jugular. Maker, he is amazing at this. You’re seeing fucking stars in your vision already. You don’t know how far this playbook of his goes, but you’re willing to see it through to the very last page. 

He grabs at your thighs with both hands and pants into your neck when he says, “lay down. please.”

He’s breathing as hard as you are and it takes no mental fortitude for you you lay back down, easily onto your pillow. Poe jumps onto your bunk with such finesse and ease, crawling over your supine form and diving into the other side of your neck. Maker he is magnificent. He’s crouched above you, the only body part of his making contact is his lips and tongue on your neck; his knees are blockading yours on either side and his hands prop him up, forearms engaged on both sides of your head. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub his scalp with your fingers, just hoping to give him a modicum amount of the pleasure he’s bestowing upon you. 

“And then-then what?” You raggedly breathe out, twisting your fingers into his curls.

Poe sighs and chuckles into your neck, giving a few closed mouth kisses to your trembling skin.

“You just want the highlights, huh?”

“I want it however you give it.”

Poe nods and he scoots back onto his knees. Maker, he’s still fully clothed, boots, blaster and all on your bed, and he starts to unfasten your top, undoing the ties and the buttons, exposing your torso to the tiny room thats made tinier by his large presence. 

“Then… then I do something like this.” He opens your sleep top easily, untying the sash at your waist , your tits exposed and vulnerable, your body is fucking quaking with nowhere to hide. He pushes the material of the top completely off of your torso and arms.

 “Nine. Baby. You’re… you’re so… fuck.” Words escape him and his mouth finds your clavicle, and he’s kneeling above you, worshiping you, kissing directly over your heart in such a reverent fucking way, his stubble scraping you all the while as he kisses on his mouth’s journey to your tits. He very obviously can’t decide which one he wants in his mouth first; kissing the medial side of each of them. He ends up deciding on the left one, latching onto your hard nipple, licking and sucking you to the fucking moon and back. 

You scoot your knees and legs out from between his legs and you wrap your lower appendages around his middle, getting as much as you can reach with all that you have at your disposal. Maker, you are gone and the only thing that remains is the wanton bits inside of you that need fo feel him closer and fucking closer.

He kisses his way to your other nipple and you cry out in ecstasy at how perfect his mouth and tongue feel swirling on you and you’ve never felt so worshipped or adored in your entire life. You wonder briefly if this is all because of his talents or if it’s because this was always meant to be. Does it feel so good because he’s so adept at it or is it because it was always supposed to be like this? Him. Poe, your Poe, in your bed exposing and sucking and biting you like it is the most natural thing in the world. He tugs your right nipple with his teeth and your legs crush his hips involuntarily. He sinks his hips onto yours and you delight in the closer presence of him. Maker, he’s so big and present. One nipple is being bit and licked while the other is being tugged and pulled by warm deft fingers and just like earlier when you thought you might cum from him rubbing your head you think you really might be able to this time, with just him playing with your breasts. But it’s not even ‘playing’ is it? He’s making love to you already, right here, on second base; he’s got you firmly locked in his scope and there’s no fucking escape. 

“What’s the next play, Dameron?” Maker, you try, you try to sound as casual as possible but the question is more like a plea, you want him down. Down down down down. And he does just that, doesn’t even come up with a signature quirky remark before kissing down your sternum and abdomen, lingering at your belly button briefly to lick into it, giving you a preview of things to come. 

Fuck, his fucking tongue is so hot; licking at a spot that isn’t even supposed to be sexual. He’s tugging your leggings down the swell of your ass without compromising the licks he’s administering to your belly. Your legs, once holding his hips, are now limp and splayed as he pulls the garment off your quivering limbs. He kisses from the inside of your knee to the apex of your thighs and mouths and moans into the flimsy piece of fabric separating your sex from his begging mouth. Fuck. You can barely look at him. And not for the reasons he voiced earlier, but because it’s all so raw and so real.

“Next step?’ You shake when you ask him, trembling fingers soothing his thick curls as he kisses the elastic seam of your panties.

“Next is…. This.” He stares hard into your eyes as he shimmies your relegation panties down your trembling legs. Maker, if you had known this was going to happen tonight you would have worn something different. Something sexy, or at least new. But the panties are gone anyway before you have time to be truly horrified about them and Poe stares dumbstruck between your waiting thighs. 

“Fuck me, baby. Such a pretty little pussy.”

He dives face first into the curls at your mound. Inhaling deeply and his hands grip your waist in supplication. 

Maker, you’re on the fucking edge and its no wonder Quinn was bragging because holy fucking hell, this is a new form of worship you’ve never been exposed to. 

You feel yourself on the edge of everything already. Poe bites your mound lightly, tugs at your curls and he reaches out a hand up towards your head and asks, “Pillow?”

“Huh?” All thought is out the window and Dameron needs a what now?

“Pillow, baby. Need a pillow.” He is insistent, kissing the crease of your thigh, your hipbone. One hand dragging from your neck, down your sternum in slow petting strokes, fuck, his hands, his forearms, so big and dense. Capable of war and battle and defending the innocent; and also quite capable of turning your entire body into a puddle of mush- of quaking goo. You eagerly hand him your extra pillow and he easily hooks your knees with his forearm and lifts your hips off the bed to place the pillow beneath them. 

“Very important step,” he gasps, settling eagerly back between your thighs. “Gonna be down here a long time, need to make sure my neck… is good.”

He’s breathing heavily over your naked cunt, staring at it all propped up for him, the eagerness to dive in is so fucking palpable, but he stops himself, he grabs both your hands in his and rubs them soothingly. Fuck, how are his hands so fucking warm?

“You sure about this, honey?”

“Poe, please.” You beg, canting your hips up slightly, afraid now that he might back out and holy maker this is the only fucking thing you could ever want. Fuck all the fear that was holding you back before, the woman you were 20 minutes ago didn’t know, couldn’t understand what was missing, what beautiful sensations were waiting for her in the unknown.

Poe smiles and nods, leaning over your trembling body to press a loving kiss to your lips, his hands still twisting with yours, and who fucking knew that holding hands and kissing could feel this fucking special, you swear you’re about to burst with love for him. You almost break the kiss to fucking declare yourself because it it just boils and steams in the cavity of your chest so very violently- but instead of telling him you’re in love, you moan desperately into the tender give of his lovely mouth. And he must be able to interpret desperate moans of love or something because he breaks the kiss and leans his forehead onto yours and says.

“Nine. I fucking- I love you. You know that? Love you so much.”

You nod because, yes. You know he does. He shows you just how much every day. It’s not as much of a declaration as it is an unsaid fact. It’s no confession, it just is what it is; he loves you. And you nearly fucking cry looking at his big dumb brown eyes. You’re completely laid out, spread open before him, and you tilt your chin up to kiss him; and in between soft, sweet kisses you whisper into the comforting adoration of his mouth, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Poes hands clench and squeeze yours and his lips traverse the path he previously trailblazed with hot hungry lips, frantically making his way down your shaking abdomen, one desperate press of lips after the other. 

You can’t help it, you cant help the way your hips rock toward him slightly, begging for friction, begging for his tongue. And then he positions himself, just like you’d imagined, his large- fully dressed from, settled in between your legs, lips teasing the insides of your thigh, about a third of his own body hanging off the edge of the bunk; just like you’d pictured it every time. But he’s hot and he’s here and it’s really happening and his mouth finally reaches your dripping lips and oh fuck he’s good. 

He’s soothing your thumbs with his own while he makes the same soothing motion with his tongue on your clit. Holy fucking hell. His tongue, it’s so strong and purposeful, sliding into the seam of you. Shit he looks so pretty like this. He hums contentedly at the taste of you? The feel of you? Whatever it is, he hums through his nose and the hot breath travels through your curls and fuck, you know you’re a goner. You’re going to get it tonight. This is a challenge isn’t it? The nine thing. You know Poe and you know that there’s no way he’s going to let the woman he loves be outdone by Quinn fucking Penly. May the maker have mercy on you. Your little breaths are stunted and you shiver in anticipation when Poe licks hot and open flat-tongued ministrations on you. You let go of his hands to run through his beautiful locks and he grips the soft flesh of your thighs, rubbing those same soothing circles onto the tops of your quads. 

He makes you cum. He makes you cum 8 fucking times in a row. Like the tie fighters he shot down earlier today. Bam, bam, bam. Obliterating every invisible and vestigial barrier you have until you’re nothing but a shaking pliant mess, the heat of your core so swollen and liquefied, you can not tell where your folds end and his mouth begins. 

Well, you’ll be damned. Penley was not joking, not exaggerating his skills. He is… Maker, he is fucking good at this. How much pussy has this man eaten in his life to make him this good? You know what, doesn’t matter, you don’t care. In fact, you’re grateful as hell to all the pussy that came before you to make him this fucking good. Maker, bless them all. He’s all hot breath and firm competent tongue. And those eyes. Those fucking impossibly big, gorgeous eyes that keep looking at you. Fucking prettiest eyes in the galaxy. Even prettier framed by your trembling thighs. In the haze of your mind you register that the way he stares at you probably has a lot to do with how skilled he is. Like a constant receptor for biofeedback: eyes trained on the little crease between your brows, on the shape of your mouth around your silent screams, on the way you bite your lip when he does it that way… or this way. Like an optometrist checking for your prescription. Better 1, or better 2? Poe goes for a minute up and down with tiny licks, the next minute- a side to side with strong licks. Oh that face you just made, that’d be a 1. So he repeats. Up and down with tiny licks, or circles with tip of the tongue? You buck your hips on both of those… that’s a tossup. Back to the beginning. 

This fucking beautiful man, the prettiest mouth in the galaxy, casually curating the perfect prescription of licking pattern for your pussy. The only time his eyes break away from your face is when they close involuntarily to savor you- beautiful eyelashes delicately fanning closed, cutting off one sense in exchange for increased sensation on his tongue. He closes his eyes and fucking moans. Hot air coming out of his beautiful nose nestled in your curls. Maker the sound of those moans. It’s like he’s trying to fill up your clenching hole with the vibrations of his throat alone. Were the moans voluntary? Could he really be enjoying himself this much? But the more he grips the pillowy flesh of your hips, and draws your cunt closer and closer to his mouth, you can tell, he really is fucking enjoying himself. Poe Dameron doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.

And the patience on him. There is no air of man-on-a-mission. No, the curly haired love machine between your legs is not trying to get you anywhere. Not a chauffeur, not even a dammed pilot right now. He has the look of a man moving in to his new home. Hanging up his hat, settling in, getting the lay of the land- inspecting and admiring the place he’s going to be living for the rest of his days. Nothing feral about it. Purely domestic, polished and practiced. Fork on the left, napkin in lap, digging in. 

He looks so comfortable down there. How can he look so comfortable as the second person on this one person cot? He’s halfway hanging off the bunk, but he looks like he could really be there all night, shit, maybe he has been there all night, you lose sense of time and space and that 10am call time tomorrow (today?) can go fuck itself for all you care.

Each time you come is a little victory for him, you can see it in his shining eyes. By the time he gets to the 6th one you’re fully confident that there’s no way, no way in hell you could possibly reach that height again. But you do. He walks you all the way up, pushes you off, and carries your limpness over the back of his broad shoulders, all the way up, and all the way down, to fall again and again and again…

Poe is consistent and determined, tackling you like a mission, on a mission to get that 9th and final orgasm, and it doesn’t take him long to find the perfect combination of mouth movements that coax desperate low moans out of you once again; moans that you didn’t think were possible at this stage in the game. You plant your heels and push your cunt towards his face, leaning into the move. Not jerking away from too much stimulation. You start grinding up on his face, just a little. He lets you do it, following the movement of your hips with his mouth, figuring out what your body is searching for so he can give it to you. Poe doesn’t pin your hips down for moving, he recognizes the movement as a want of friction, of contact, of seeking, and he is going to give that to you. Ready and willing to give you any fucking thing you need.

“Oh fuck, Poe. Just like that, just like that holy shiiiit, yes don’t fucking stop, Dameron.” Your voice is needy, wrecked, and breathless, your mouth is so dry from having moaned a lifetimes worth of hot breaths in one evening. You clutch his thick curls in your fingers to reiterate your point. Which is, for the love of Maker, stay here, do not fucking move. Your fists glue his beautiful face to your cunt. When you’re confident he’s not going to break away or deviate, you let your hands relax and rest mildly on his head, your splayed fingers carelessly fingering his locks and rubbing little circles into his scalp. 

“So good. So fucking good, Commander.” You’re drooling. Like some kind of animal, you are drooling, but you can’t care, not right now. There’s no room to be self conscious when Poe is feasting on you, the steady beat of his tongue marching you closer and closer to the edge. You can read in his eyes what he’d be saying if he could talk, if his mouth wasn’t in the zone; “thats right, baby. Cum in my mouth.” Damn his eyes are so fucking beautiful with the moonlight leaking into the room like this. Everything is cast in shades of blue from the window and warm yellow from the lamp, and his eyes- dark and sparkling, fuck it’s so breathtaking you wish you could take a holo to fucking remember, but you’re pretty certain you’ll never be able to blink those irises out of your memory. They’re so bright you suspect they’ve already burned holes into your vision that will last for weeks to come; every time you close your eyes, it will be nothing but twin glittering pinpricks. 

His fingers flex and contract on your soft thighs, indenting your flesh gently, reassuring them of their rightful space on either side of his head. You forget why you were so scared to let things get here. There’s nothing scary about this, in fact nothing has felt more right than this. It doesn’t matter he’s your commander, your best friend, your kriffing roommate… he’s still all those things and he’s more than that. He’s your Poe. You could spend the rest of your life with his head right there. Yes, right there, right there, right fucking…

“Poe!” You whine, breath belting ragged from your nose, “so good. Fuck yes, just like that, Poe I’m gunna, I’m gunna. Fuck, fuuuck, Poe.” Your hips rise to make even more friction than what he’s already giving you, “fucking cuuuuuu-“ the words devolve from intelligible speech into a long, low moan. Your toes curl and your thighs vice his pretty head, covering his ears- muffling them from the cries of your pleasure.

You cum hard, wetness flowing out of your spasming cunt. Nine.

He lets out a deep, vibrational moan into your center, clawing his fingers into the thighs currently smashing his head. Your hands and fingers shake and writhe, one hand in his hair, the other tugging at your nipple. Fuck, you feel like you’re being electrocuted, nearly goddamn painful, and if you didn’t know the number you were both aiming for you’d have begged him to stop a long time ago, beg him to come up and fuck you because he must be painfully hard in his rugged canvas pants. You softly whine as the shocks ebb from your body, gently rocking your hips to Poe’s mouth, eeking the last bit of pleasure out of his tongue. 

Your body falls limp, thighs falling open, Poe rubs them softly and moves his mouth down slightly, from your clit to your entrance, dipping his tongue into your dripping hole, sucking with his lips, catching every drop of your release into his languid, warm mouth. Lapping up the evidence of his efforts with his hot slick tongue. Maker, everything is hot and slick, the only friction you can feel is the slight burn of Poe’s one-day stubble. You swear you saw him shave that morning, but it grows like a fucking weed on him and the short bristles that were burning the soft skin of your inner thighs when you started are sufficiently covered in sweat and spit and your cum, to the point where the friction is negligible at best, and the whole lower half of his face moves with a gliding ease through your folds. 

“That was… that was…” your voice is broken and shaky, like every part of you. The pillow he placed under your hips is totally flattened now, not providing any form of support or elevation for his neck to comfortably keep his face in the recesses of your spent pleasure.

Poe hums, mouth still occupied with your nether regions, licking and swallowing, licking and swallowing all the evidence he can reach with his tongue. Every bit that hasn’t been absorbed by your thin relegation blanket or smeared in your curls and the insides of your upper thighs. 

“Poe…” you whine, his tongue is too much. Too fucking much right now and you need him closer, you need him bare and not blastered-up, hanging partway off the bed. You push his face away from your pussy sighing in relief when you feel the cool air hit your heat for the first time in fucking hours. 

“Next… what’s the next step,” you smile, blissed out and teasing.

Poe wipes his mouth, just like he wiped it at the cantina after the citrus display, and takes a deep breath in followed by a satisfied exhale. He shakes his head at you, grinning, his lips are so pink and swollen and he places a sticky stubbly kiss to your hip bone before rising up to his knees and begins to unbutton his shirt. 

“Next step is, I believe I mentioned; the tight squeeze.” He winks and his fingers are steady, unbuttoning the bottom half of his linen shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders before tossing it to the floor. 

Maker, you’ve seen him shirtless before, he never wears shirts to sleep, and you’ve trained yourself not to ogle him, but now it’s different. Now you’re able to stare, to drink him in unabashedly. He undoes his thigh holster and discards it with a toss, joining his rumpled shirt on the bedroom floor. He does it all with half hooded eyes on yours and you feel positively hypnotized at the mini strip show. He unfastens his rough canvas pants and sits on the edge of the bed to toe off his boots. You hear them clunk to the floor one by one. 

“Don’t know how tight of a squeeze I’ll be. You’ll have to hit up Tella for that move.” You wink at him.

He scoffs and leans back to pull down his trousers and underwear. And kicks them off his legs, careless as to where they wind up on the floor below. 

“Never, baby. Never.” 

He’s completely bare now, and yes, he’s achingly hard, cock bobbing and smacking on his abdomen when he bends to his hands and knees and kisses up your shins, up your thighs, up up up to your neck and cheek and lips. His mouth is pleasantly warm and sticky, his tongue tastes like arousal, and you snake your arms under his to grab the taut muscles at his back. He grabs your legs and hooks your thighs at his pleasantly wide hips. Maker, you’re too fucked out already and you haven’t even been fucked yet. There’s nothing between you now and you can feel his cock brush against your aching cunt while he licks into your mouth. And even though you’ve cum nine fucking times, you still want more. Maybe not more orgasms, but more him, more Poe, always more more more. 

You break the kiss and ask, still breathless and shaking, “Maker is this really happening? Are we really going to-“

Poe cuts you off and amends seriously, “Only if you want to. We can stop right now. We don’t need to round all the bases,” he strokes your cheek with his thumb, “whatever you want from me. I’m yours.”

Your eyes search his. He really would stop, wouldn’t he? After giving you all that, he wouldn’t ask for anything of his own. You stare into his eyes, relieved at what you see there, grateful he was patient and brave enough to wait for you to come out of your shell, to do this thing that seemed so scary at first, but there isn’t any fear to be had now; holding him like this, steady and earnest and waiting. He’s trembling with need now and you were only asking if it was really happening because it feels too good to be true. Like a vivid hallucination and the only fear now is of going back to the way it was before; with all the doors and blankets and eyelids separating you. You want this. You want him. 

His cock is caught at the notch of your core, so you slide your hands down his lower back, over the swell of his ass and you press your fingers into his firm flesh, lowering his hips to yours. He slides into you with unreal ease. You’re still so fucking wet despite how thoroughly he tried to lick you clean. He fully seats into you and when he does, his back arches under your hands and he shakes, one hand gripping your face, the other squeezing your hip.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking wet.” He groans and his face looks like it’s in actual pain the way he squints his eyes close and huffs through his nose, biting his bottom lip slightly. “Not.. not going to last long. Wanna.. wanna give you one more…”

One more? One more what? Orgasm? 

“No way….”

“Oh you- you don’t want one?” He grinds his hips into yours just fucking right and you moan hoarsely. He’s giving you that fucking look. The challenge accepted look. Dammit.

“Or do you not think I can get you there again?” He grinds deeper now and you’ve got hot pricks of tears at the corners of your eyes because maker fuck, how can this feel good? How can he make you want more when you’ve had enough? But he does, he fucking does. He’s grinding into you with expert friction on your mound and your nails dig into the flexing muscles of his ass. Holy shit, he’s a fucking sex god. They weren’t wrong. Every bathroom sink gossip within a 10 planet radius should be buzzing about this fucking asshole. And, maker, his stupid satisfied grin says everything and more. He knows how badly you want it, he can feel the desperation- hot and clenching at him. 

He grips the rail of your bed for more leverage and scoots his thighs closer to you, folding you in just the tiniest bit until- fuck. He’s hitting a fucking miracle inside of you, something that flashes hot and electric with every thrust and drag of his cock. He’s got this down to a fucking science, doesn’t he? His thick forearm is taught and flexed from gripping the rail above your head and, maker, he’s so big and strong… you’ve always loved his forearms but this… he’s biting his bottom lip in concentration now, the fucking pussy whisperer. More tears leak out of the sides of your eyes and your lips quiver and your knees shake out of control on either side of his hips. Fuck him, he’s going to make you cum again and you’re never going to live it down. Maker, he’ll probably change your name to “Ten” and when everybody asks why he’ll wink at you and you’ll want to kill him. You want to kill him now; the strong sexy bastard-grinding up into you.

He kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear while he rocks into you just fucking right, “Give it to me, that’s right baby, can feel you right there, just let go.”  

You can’t fucking fight it. He’s on you like nothing else, you’re fucking helplessly pinned beneath him and his chest cages you in so tensely you can hardly breathe let alone move. You’re sure you draw blood from his skin with your nails when you cum on his cock. More tears streaming thinly from the sides of your eyes. Fuck him. It’s a perfect ratio of pleasure and pain, soreness and relief. You muffle your scream into his warm shoulder, not wanting to wake anyone- certain that it’s gotta be at least 3am and everyone is sound asleep. 

He curses repeatedly in your ear and draws heaving breaths as he flexes and spills into you. His cock pulses resonant and hot, buried completely, the hand on your hip leaving dents in your skin as if you were trying to break free of his grasp. His relieved gasps are music to your ears. You drag your nails up and down his back lightly and he goes totally boneless on you like a man who just completed an epic feat of strength; completely depleted. It’s not a wholly unpleasant feeling, being crushed by him. He kisses your neck and chuckles. 

“Gunna have to start calling you Ten now.”

You huff in disbelief, “how did I know you were going to say that?”

“Because I’m predictable?”

You smile and bite your bottom lip, “How about: because I know you so well.”

“Mmmm, yeah. I like that.”

You bite your lip and smile, staring at the ceiling, lightly scratching Poe’s back as he falls asleep in you and on you, the early rays of dawn leak in through the window and mix with the golden lamp light and you kiss the side of Poe’s head.

“Me too.”

END

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you see yourself on this taglist and you wish to be removed from this and future works pls message me, no hard feelings I promise. Love ya sluts. 

@roanniom @jedi-mando @santiagogarcia @supernovafeather@paper-n-ashes @veuliee @soyelfuegoquearde @montygirl @wyn-dixie @witchyavenger @writefightandflightclub @isvvc-pvscvl  @picklesgoose @mylifeisactuallyamess  @general-latino@winniedaboo96-blog @youvebeenlivingfictional @aerolanya@tlcwrites @revolution-starter @mariesackler @millllenniawrites@woakiees @dreamingindigital @writing-in-april@nowritingonthewall @waatermelon-sugaar @pumpkin-stars@kesskirata @budcooper @kikis-writing-world @blackberries45@teacore-hunny  @beepboopyoda @jellybelle @hotchlover-blog @ophelialoveshandsomemen  @samspade @emilykjh@writefightandflightclub @gottalovethefandom @temptressofwaikiki @mstgsmy @brandyllyn @autumnleaves1991-blog @abelslittlebunny @moon-kn1ght @thedukeofcaladan @winchestershiresauce  @miraclesabound @sunfairyy @ozarkthedog @smiley-asylum @princessxkenobi @batsycatsyclown 

[solosvejs]

The Old Guard, and subverting expectations

I remember when I first watched this movie - I didn’t know much about it. I had seen the trailer about a month prior, was immediately on board to add this to my collection of Movies Where Charlize Theron Beats Up Dudes. Like, I was sold just on that. And then, you know, there was that shot of Nicky and Joe spooning on the train from Sudan. And I thought... Huh. You don’t know see that every day. I kept watching. I remember asking some fandom friend or other if the movie was gay. (I expected, like, maybe some subtext between Charlize’s character and the new girl, but that was the height of my expectations going in). They said it was. I got to the Van Scene. Ah yes, I thought, these are The Gays of the film. (I did not know yet at that point that everyone in this movie is gay) And then... And then I got to the scene in the lab (the That Time in Malta scene), and something.... something twinged inside me. Because I had seen enough movies now to know that if people are in dire circumstances, and they mention some happy prior event, AND there’s some form of “that was nice, wasn’t it?” or “we should go back there”, there’s.... well, it’s usually a good sign that the character(s) will NOT get to to do that thing again or go back to that place. There’s almost always a finality to it. A sense of regret. I heard that in Nicky’s voice, and I heard it in Joe’s reply. And I thought, well. They gave us these gays, at least; so maybe they won’t make it out of this movie alive, but at least it was nice while it lasted. It’s not the first time that has happened and sadly it will not be the last. You see, I’m a fic writer. I am well-versed in the language of “that didn’t happen” and “Alternative Universe - Everybody Lives” tags. I am fully prepared at any given moment to ignore every part of canon I do not, as the kids say, vibe with. They almost had me in that scene where Nicky gets shot in the head, I had to admit. It happened fast enough and brutally enough that I got flashbacks to Star Trek Discovery’s similarly-framed killing of their lauded gay character. I think I literally yelled NO!!!! at my TV. There’s about 35 seconds of Nile-Booker-Andy badassery between Nicky getting getting shot and his gasping, breathless, bloody return. They’re a good 35 seconds. Andy gets a fireman axe and goes to town. On my first watch, I couldn’t really enjoy them, because I was kind of.... riding out the disappointment. I thought, well. At least Andy will be okay, right? She’s the main character, right? But, you know. When she grabs that axe and she says “enough of this shit” and starts cutting down dudes, I thought...what if she’s not talking about their current situation? What if it’s addressing the narrative and the place the viewer is at that moment - a viewer who has probably seen other movies where the queer couple is given some cute screen time, maybe they teach the protagonist or the audience about love and tolerance, and then they are killed off for cheap angst. That viewer is probably expecting that same thing, not hopefully but with cynicism. Here we go again, the viewer sighs But then... Enough of this shit, says Andromache the Scythian... and Nicky wakes up. And they get their revenge on Keane, they get to come away from this together, with their found family, reaffirmed in their love and their place in the world. There's been a lot of talk lately about viewer expectations and whether creators should or shouldn't try to subvert them. Usually it's been used when writers are afraid someone has figured out their plot, and have to scramble to try and change it up in service of some "zomg twist ending!!!". But I think The Old Guard did something different. Like Andy, we had grown cynical and weary, tired from years and years of being promised "representation" that ultimately leads to disappointment. Enough of movies where queer characters are dangled around in press hype as "representation" only to be done away with to show how "dark and gritty" the world is. Enough of that shit. We lived, bitch. 

[spacewizardtrek]

WARNING: This post will ruin you. Like Medusa; look at your peril.

But here is is. It’s the one you’ve all been waiting for.

Kirk bod appreciation #7: The RIDICULOUSLY BEAUTIFUL FACE. A highly technical and academic review.

This is a rather nebulous one. And not, on the face of it (pardon the pun) very philosophical, as it’s essentially about Kirk being stupidly pretty. This post probably will (it will) descend into just screaming and sobbing, but there will be, I promise, *some* meaningful insight into the meaning of ‘beauty’ and textual analysis of its role herein.

Beauty is subjective. But look at him. It’s not just being aesthetic, but it’s the *way* he’s aesthetic. Here I might repeat myself a bit, but stay with me. I may have mentioned before once hearing him described as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is PRETTY. He is indeed often conveyed in the way the women stereotypically (not necessarily rightly) are on screen: perfect, smooth skin; soft, big eyes; luscious lips (his body is sensually curvaceous and furthermore it’s emphasised). He’s not androgynous though. He’s masculine. And yet I still sense what was meant in describing him as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is a rather uncommon form of gender fuckery. He is a form of stereotype-subversion not commonly acknowledged. He seems to be everything at once, ALL THE GENDER; combines whichever traits he desires from those categories, and yet is undeniably a man and masculine whatever the ingredients. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE, one might wonder. The fact of the matter is, that it IS. And it teaches us something.

The FUCK. nO. You are not allowed to be that pretty, and you are NOT allowed to look at her like that. We’re trying to have a SENSIBLE DISCUSSION here.

Sorry, that was a non-sequitur / nothing to do with what we learn by Kirk’s embodiment; I was just ambushed by my own gif. Only the control of a Vulcan. ONLY that could possibly withstand this onslaught. And even that won’t hold up forever AS WE WELL KNOW

God.

This is going well, as you can tell.

OK. So, it’s claimed he has Eyes and Stupidly Long Weakness-Inducing Eyelashes. You know, from all that fanfic that goes on about ‘big, sparkling eyes’ and him fanning his ‘long, copper eyelashes’. I mean, yeah right, tropey mc tropeface -

IT’S TRUE. HE IS LITERALLY AN ANIME PRINCESS.

There are some moments where he just BLINKS and, how to describe it...how does a BLINK have that effect. It’s NOT ALLOWED.

...I’m sorry. It IS allowed. All of it. I am not shaming you your beauty. Never change, Jim. Never.

OK. I’m ok. 3 pics down, we can get through this -

Oh you are joking. Stop.

I don’t understand how anyone can be so beautiful. Life is a lie. Reality is fake -

- you did NOT just turn your big anime eyes on Spock. You do know this is why he ran away to PURGE ALL HIS EMOTIONS?

And for that matter, you know when Kirk looks his most beautiful? Literally WHEN HE’S LOOKING AT SPOCK. Spock talks some bollocks and Kirk just sparkles like a fucking angel:

Unbelievable. But utterly undeniable.

Sigh. Moving on.

Oh - someone once suggested I talk about The Lips. Lips are so wonderful aren’t they. So many wonderful things they can do.

And Kirk’s. They’re there in every picture: perfect, rosy, soft and madness-inducing. My advice is just...don’t think about them. But since I’ve been asked to draw attention to them, well, you’ve just sealed your fate. Scroll down at your peril.

I WARNED YOU.

I am pulling NO punches.

I’ve seen this great meme going around:

Excuse me though....CUTE?

That’s the understatement of the 23rd century.

Try impossibly beautiful, mind and body: heart of solid gold, soul deep in love with you. Those eyes and all their passion burned into your memories a thousand times over, along with - maybe, suggestibly, idk I’m extrapolating from all the goddamn tension - even the one unforgettable time he laid between lily-white sheets and gave himself to you; every gift of the mind, body and soul - and your ostensibly-forced Vulcan conditioning, that completely ignored how incompatible one part of you was with it, caused so much dissonance that you thought the only possible course of action for you both to survive was to BREAK UP, tear yourself from this beauty and love and sweetness to PURGE ALL EMOTIONS because nothing, nothing equipped you for this; you were set up specifically to fail, and fail hard in the face of transcendental love and beauty by those who rejected such things and didn’t understand you and could never imagine this for you and who instead of helping your beautiful neurodivergent brain flourish taught you to repress and caused you pain and shame and Gol was so hard and Kirk was so sad, so very sad and depressed and hurt and yet he couldn’t stop loving you with a bond so strong he called to you across the stars and Gol was all for naught yet you still didn’t know how to live like this, it was torture, torture until the mind meld with the living machine flashed your BIOS and you knew, love.exe was suddenly running with no errors and he came after you and held you and you held hands and, and -

.

*sobbing*

.

just...give me a moment

.

YOU WONDER WHAT THE SUBTEXT (FRIKKIN’ MAIN TEXT) OF STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE WAS ALL ABOUT???

The pain?? The angst?? The two logical entities seeking contact, love, THIS SIMPLE FEELING? That fucking moment when spock walks on the bridge and the only way he can control himself is to be SUPER Vulcan, while his love gazes at him with those EYES, fucking huge and glittering and hurt and loving?? Is it so much a mystery what memories these two are carrying, what’s behind the searing tension???????

Love him. Love him Spock. Take him in your arms and love him. He’s for you. All for you. Fucking hell guys. The fuck. This movie.

.

ok.

ok I can do this

CAN U NOT

those damn eyes I swear

It’s obviously not all just superficial physical beauty. What IS beauty? Narratively we do sometimes find this ‘prettiness’ enhanced and emphasized like the old vaseline lens to set the tone of a scene (he’s vulnerable and delicate, or someone’s indeed in love with him so we see their ‘lens’ on him); but it is somewhat intangible and nebulous and changeable. I don’t think aesthetic beauty, if one deems it so, on its own, would be enough for the likes of Spock (indeed, no woman could charm him thusly); it's about something deeper. It’s about who he is. Who he is inside: the beautiful AND the imperfect. How his good and bad - how his ‘all’ -  chimes with Spock’s 'all’. The Enemy Within deals with this, and shows how Spock loves all of Kirk, wants him complete, with both his light and shadow. The beauty of all of us is this totality and variance, not one intangible quality.

I’ll bet Spock’s parents knew immediately. Can you imagine Sarek trying to be a total bitch over Kirk, having heard the rumours and just wanting to have one more thing to reject Spock over, immediately projecting onto Kirk as some blow-up pretty-boy and how Incredibly More Disappointing My Son Is for being Obviously In Love With Stupid Illogical Human Doll Face Bubble Butt Bimbo Captain, and Amanda’s like, stfu, let me remind you Kirk is actually a Fucking Amazing Highly Decorated Starship Captain who Saves Your Life and don’t you DARE resent him just because he’s got tits/ass/tum/lips that won’t quit and is obviously the freakin’ sun Spock orbits. Mr ‘I married a human but that was special because it was logical’ or some bullshit. How is Kirk an illogical choice? I mean literally, Spock is a Science Genius™ on the federation’s FLAGSHIP whose well-matched Genius Captain™ understands him, accepts him, brings the best out of him, helps him fulfil his whole potential and is in love with him in the deepest and purest way and will be his bonded soulmate for ALL OF TIME and that fucking sour-faced bih at the start of that ep, ffs.

Of course Amanda stays in touch with Kirk, adores the fuck out of him, sends him old Vulcan lit on t’hy’la bonds (yes sarek, a T’HY’LA bond, so revered freakin’ poets write about it) etc because frankly her son could do FAR FUCKING WORSE.

FAR. FUCKING. WORSE.

Don’t...just don’t slip the bod into the equation, the face is enough for one post. We’re all in therapy for this already, let’s not relapse.

Oh, what’s the use. I’m gonna die. This is it. This is like the Monty Python joke that is so funny it kills you. This man is lethal. I need to stop this thread and purge all my emotions

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

That’s it. I’m dead. You’re dead. We’re all dead.

I hope, however, seeing this post was worth it. See you at Gol everyone.

.

.

The Forbidden Texts, DO NOT READ:

Kirk bod appreciation #6: The Curves. The Front. The...chest. AND THE AMAZING GREEN WRAP

Kirk bod appreciation #5: The Paws

Kirk bod appreciation #4: The Curves. The Back. Poetry in motion.  

Kirk bod appreciation #3: Season 3 (Part 1)

Kirk bod appreciation #2b: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #2a: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #1: The Tum

[angstyjellybean]

We’re back

9-1-1 “Outside Looking In”

✨spoilers✨

Let’s go baby

quinceañera how cute

Moms right that isn’t safe by the trees

That’s a lot of balloons for a windy day

New guy… huh

Are his feet gone?

oh oh shit

Yucky

Oh my god Buck stop waving like a princess

Oh so he did go to dispatch

Chris got so big

Wait what’s his job exactly?

Insomnia? Or just getting sick of the same stuff?

Public service officer? I have never heard of that

Why does Eddie look high? And this seems like a good family dynamic

Mmm cupcakes

“I like what I’m doing” that sounded so convincing

“You need to move on, I have” yeah that doesn’t sound like it has subtext

Oh I don’t feel like I’m gonna like this man

Hen baby he’s still the captain

Oh shit

Thena my love

RAVI OUR BABY

Be careful Buckaroo

Ooo 147 is cute

Is she our she buck?

They said kids but so far they’ve shown 1

Eddie knows his bombs even while sleep deprived

We don’t need to make life decisions rn maam

What the hell is she doing?

Ouch that couldn’t have felt nice on his ribs

Buck just hanging off the ladder shouldn’t be funny

Why does he look mad

Oof Joshy letting boundaries be known

Why would you say no??? Just because you got there later and they didn’t wait?

This woman looks familiar and I can’t place why

I sure as hell would want it if I were able

Athena coming in with the wisdom

Are y’all having them flirt are you serious he has a girlfriend

Stop it, let this man have a stable relationship for once

YOU BITCH AND BUCK YOU DUMBASS

FUCK THIS I’m not the biggest buck and Taylor but still

I know where I recognize her from, it’s Aquamarine

No buck you kissed her back and kissed her once she pulled away again

Tell Taylor istg

Eddie looks like shit

Ma’am you can’t police what other people have in their yard

Is that neighbor the bomber maybe?

Oh god I know she doesn’t die or get maimed but still

assault with a deadly weapon

Why would you go in alone maam I love you but still dumb at times

Eddie seems  delusional and idk why he seems to be spiraling too

ooo Bobby come from him

STOP BEING A DICK

God Buck lawsuit parallel

I feel like Taylor has an inkling what’s going on

YOU SHITHEAD TELL HER

He hired Lucy didn’t he?

THE LOOK ON BUCKS FACE karma baby

[castielmoriarty]

the bi lighting behind Guerin in the wedding reception scene reminded me of the same in Sherlock during Mary and John’s wedding (and a lot of other media), and I was reminded of how like... I’ve literally heard and read people say, when ridiculing those who analyse subtext in series/movies, esp. in this case after Johnlock didn’t go canon, that “lmfao they are talking about “““bi lighting”“” like what gtfo” and, I’m just... bitch, things people are ridiculously overestimating the meaning of is stuff like “the beer bottle facing away means...” (I’ve literally seen a long meta about the positioning of beer bottles) (and it means they aren’t going to randomly do product placement) but for those ridiculing interpretation of lighting, as if fucken lighting is unintentional or random in visual media, when it’s literally one of the most intentionally used things, and that coloured lighting would be random, that coloured lighting in such specific colours as pink - purple - blue would have been chosen at random and not mean anything? I mean if you think lighting and especially coloured lighting is random, you must have not seen a single movie or episode of anything. or a photography for that matter. brb there’s some tables that needs flipping.

[inosukeslefttoe]

SO i just finished wonder egg priority and i think that with confidence i can say it has been one of my favorite animes like... ever ?? and not even from hyperfixation or obsession over it just... its so fucking real yet so simple in a way that i havent rlly seen shown in any other shows you feel ??

but first i wanna talk about how sexy the art and animation is real quick... HOMIE ITS SO GOOD LIKE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT JUST... serotonin... the characters are all so unique and iconic and fun but not over the top in their designs yknow ??? they seem like regular every day girls but they stand out and theyre all sO CUTE !!!! also i love how the style is like this soft bubbly slice of life lookin stuff with bright happy colors and the most beautiful scenes you could find but they also have the SICKEST fight scenes complete with whimsical animal helpers and terrifying villains and crazy weapons unique to each character. and the animation. god DAMN shawty i am obsessed with everything in this show. i might make a post solely about the art later lol bc i wanna get into the other stuff.

so the themes in the show right ?? it starts just as this cute lil magical girl kinda deal but within the first episode we see that like.. oh damn... thats kinda heavy... tbh i was a little shocked and thought about stopping bc yknow bad mental health BUT i was so intrigued that i had to keep going and i am SO GLAD that i did. because this show just so beautifully discusses all these heavy topics in such an eloquent and artistically expressive way. and also like, , the juxtaposition of the charming childlike vibe with bright colors and 14 yr old girl protagonists against the dark themes of suicide and so much else,, i think is just perfect. bc a lot of heavy animes are more of the seinen genre and have some middle aged dude as a protag or make the entire color palette dim or offer little relief to the pain of these heavy themes right ?? but NO not wonder egg bitches B) because these problems arent just things that ppl face later in life or just problems that need to be talked about among adults or the edgy seinen watching squad,, these are REAL problems that face people of every age, gender etc and i think its awesome that wonder egg addresses that. some may cringe at the thought of their high schooler watching animes that discuss sexual harassment, suicide, abuse, self harm, eating disorders etc,, but in reality it is the most comforting thing i have ever come across and is basically jsut free anime therapy. because not only does wonder egg present these themes to the viewers as something real that happens to all kinds of people (making said people feel heard in a way that maybe they hadnt before), but it also makes sure to vanquish all of these forms of trauma. and the way the trauma is vanquished isnt always beautiful and it isnt always just magically gone with a poof. the struggles of overcoming or living with that sort of thing are shown in such a real and relatable way that addresses every hardship trauma survivors have to go through. and i just. god i cry bro. 

oh m y GOD and the lgbtq+ rep in this show ?? like shawty... as soon as i saw episode one i was picking up on some gay/lesbian themes but then again im sapphic and project that a lot so i tend to see that sort of stuff like... everywhere... but NE WAYS... episode ten made me FUKCING CRY BRO LIke i cant believe there was a whole trans character with a whole trans pride hoodie like LKGHKDGH my heart is just so.. so fucking full thinking about him. bc like yeah i know there are trans characters in anime but i feel like theyre always very ambiguous about actually being trans or not or erased or portrayed as a harmful stereotype or theyre constantly misgendered and still refered to as their assigned gender at birth and i hate it. HOWEVEr... Kaoru.. *chefs kiss* it was so amazing to see a character straight up say “yeah im trans” in such a casual yet powerful way bc i personally have never seen that before. and i love love loved how he went into his backstory and talked to momoe about gender bc i think thats what she rlly needed and that it helped her find herself and it makes me so happy oh my god,, and the way they talked about it never seemed forced or like it was the focal point of his existence yknow ?? like yeah he existed to help momoe overcome some of her trauma but he also just existed to be HIM yknow ?? also... personally, i headcanon momoe as a trans girl even though i dont remember it being explicitly stated plus the school scenes of her and stuff would seem like they suggest otherwise ??but,,, SHAWTY THE AMOUNT OF SUBTEXT and her complicated relationship w gender is... something i feel like a cis girl would not go through so harshly yknow ?? with all of the questioning and feeling detached from femininity or feeling like ppl dont see her as an actual girl and only like her as a guy or for her masculine traits,,, but dont take my word on this bc i myself am a cis girl but that was just my take on it as someone in the lgbtq+ community trying to educate myself on the transgender community :) either way,, wonder eggs portrayal of momoe and kaoru and the way that momoe becomes so passionate about expressing herself the way she wants to as a girl is just... good lord im gonna cry its so perfect,,,.so ... i just love this show way too much. i also am honestly super lost about the relationship btwn acca and ura-acca ?? bc i was gonna mention ura-acca as a canonically gay guy bc when i was watching i interpreted ep 11 as him being in love with acca and being jealous of Azusa (bc i mean,, they lived together (i swear to god there was only one bed in that apartment) and had a daughter together and def loved each other and also when Frill said they were husbands and then when ura-acca said he wasnt attracted to azusa but he was def jealous of their relationship ??) but then i saw somewhere that theyre brothers ?? which would make sense ig since they look kinda similar and accas daughter called ura-acca “uncle”.. but at the same time its ANIME SO THEY ALL LOOK SIMILAR and referring to gay couples as siblings is an EXTREMELY common euphemism soooo... IM JUST LOST HERE... but yeah i tried doing research and found different things so i cant say anything for sure >:( however,,, if they are canonically a lil fruity for each other... when frill refered to acca as ura-accas husband i imploded dude you never hear that sort of wording in anime.. but if theyre related i am so sorry. 

god this is so much longer than i planned it to be oops but i also love the theme about like.. relying on friends to help carry your weight but at the same time not becoming completely dependent on those friends and using their support to learn how to love yourself and rely on yourself yknow ?? bc that is exactly what healthy friendships look like. bc i think ai sort of had a codependency thing goin on with koito maybe ?? but now she has a whole squad of funky friends that are so so different but all struggle with different kinds of trauma and although they fight over it, they always get through it with each other together. and they push each other no matter what to be the best versions of themselves and they teach other that getting hurt is okay because theyre always gonna be there to pick up the pieces no matter what happens. they can give each other space when they need and adapt to meet each others needs but theyre always able to balance it out with their own needs and thats such a beautiful thing in friendships especially at their age like damn i wish i had that maturity when i was 14 but no all i had was depression. another thing is that through these friendships you get to see all the different sides of each girl; you get to see them being strong or a shining light to their friends when theyre hurting but you also get to see them being hurt and weak and allowing themselves to be on the receiving end of the comfort. their friendships allows them to have weaknesses but it also allows them to highlight their strengths and thrive off of each others. I LOVE FRIENDSHIP DUDE

next i wanna briefly mention some of the themes connected to suicide that ive noticed. a big one is the survivors guilt that ai feels once koito is dead. several times she screams that she wishes she couldve gone with koito and she dreams of a “perfect world” where they committed a double suicide. one of the main reasons for her troubles is that she blames herself for koitos death and feels like it should be her thats dead... but at the same time she feels like too much of a coward to do anything now that koito is gone. she just has all these complex and contradicting feelings that wear away at her in ways that ppl that havent gone through the suicide of a loved one could never imagine. a lot of the times when things like this are portrayed in media i feel like its more in a way thats meant to guilt trip those that have taken their own lives and paint suicide as this selfish sin thats unforgivable but... not only does wonder egg reject that idea and instead portray it as a heartbreaking tragedy with,,, so so many terrible reasons, but it focuses on the feelings of ai separate from koito without blaming her in any way. not once did i feel like the show antagonized koito or that ai blamed koito for doing any of this, but they simply mourned her loss and touched on ais reaction towards the event but separate from koito herself if that makes sense. and i think that discussing survivors guilt without painting koito as the bad guy is something so beautifully done in wonder egg that can really resonate with those that have lost a loved one to suicide and have struggled with these same things.

okay i think this is the last thing ill mention,,, but HOMIE THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE BIT AT THE END. I AM. OBSESSED. i am such a whore for anything about the multiverse okay n e ways...,, not only did this make a super epic trippy ending of season one and add a little bit more magical girl whimsy to the show,, but it had such a powerful message. from the perspective of og ai,, finding out that you killed yourself in another world is... i mean its definitely not a surprise but at the same time it rlly makes you think how close og ai herself couldve been to that point and what decisions led her out of that dark place in her life. if i were in her shoes i would be terrified and id cry bc the thought of going back to such a dark place and actually going through with something like that is my worst fear and probably something that ai fears too. but at the same time,,, think from the perspective of ai two !!! like yeah its true that theres this awful terrible version of ai that dies but theres also a whole version of ai that is a superhero magical girl fighting off monsters to save countless ppls lives !! and she has a badass lizard and a gang of awesome friends !!! at first i was worried that ai two would be jealous of og ai and compare herself to her and feel inferior but like.. THEYRE LITERALLY THE SAME PERSON AND CAPABLE OF THE SAME THINGS !!! and ai two realized that !! just within the span of one episode, she went from the version of ai who took her life,, to the version of ai jumping in front of a friend to take a bullet for them and save their life. and that just inspired THE SHIT OUT OF ME. i think that ai was sent another version of herself to sort of beat her own worst enemy yknow ?? those doubts and fears that shes no good or that shes that same bystander from episode one and that she hasnt changed at all. but getting to interact with her parallel self and see her grow was just what she needed to realize that while yeah sometimes the worst thing can happen and things can be terrible but on the other hand sometimes the most wonderful thing imaginable can happen because she has the power to do either. 

so im gonna go ahead and stop rambling bc i got all my thoughts out that i wanted to for this post :D but yeah lol i might make another if i feel like it sometime. long story short: this show is perfect and it is going on my favorite of all times.

[alexjcrowley]

The "you lead him on" mentality applied everytime a girl accepts an offer with no explicit romantic or sexual connotations made by a guy is the basis of r*pe culture.

Yeah, feels a bit coming out of the blue from my page, but in my defense I didn't expect I would have to deal with this bullshit anytime soon.

Of course the speech still applies no matter the gender, but I think it's safe to admit that the case of girls considered guilty of "leading guys on" is the most common.

And today I have heard someone define a girl "selfish" if she accepted a guy's offer to hang out because "you know what it means to him, you only care about your feelings if you ignore the subtext".

BITCH, WHAT SUBTEXT? IF SOMEONE ASK ME TO HANG OUT, BOY OR GIRL, IT MEANS HANG OUT. Why, for the love of God, should I automatically believe a guy wants to hang out with me because he is attracted to me?

This whole reasoning is a trick, because it makes you answer to a question another person never asked, they just "expects you to know". You're saying "yes" to question that was never asked you, because in this way there's a higher possibility you won't turn them down. And you are at best a fool for thinking they liked you- oh my God, how high do you think of yourself?- at worse, a slut who may get what "they asked for".

And couldn't the same stupid speech work in the other way? Isn't he selfish not to tell me he wants us to date but, not to expose himself, expecting me to assume accepting an offer to hang out is the same as saying "yes" to "do you want to be my girlfriend?".

It doesn't work this way either because hanging out with someone because you like them as a friend or as a romantic/sexual partner aren't inherently selfish, but it is a dick move to assume just because someone said they wanted to hang out with you they want to have a relationship with you or, worse, they basically said they like you back and therefore you are already entitled to take the friendship to a relationship level. And they never got it wrong, you were a bitch for letting them think that.

It's 2021, for fuck's sake, I shouldn't be explaining this.

But this is the basis of r*pe culture, because if you automatically think hanging out with someone or being kind to them is "leading them on", when someone refuses to have a relationship with you, then you can accuse them of tricking you, of lying to you and playing with you, when they never agreed to being involved romantically or sexually with you. They only agreed to hanging out with you, and the fact that you're a boy and she's a girl or any other combination in which the two people could only theorically being attracted to eachothers DOESN'T. MEAN. THEY. HAVE. TO.

And that's how you justify r*pe saying they "wanted this too", they "acted like they wanted me", they "lead me on".

Because they were so stupid to think you were a normal, reasonable person who understands taking the relationship "on the next level" is not something you can decide to read in someone's behaviour and take that as a solid proof.

I am so sick of this.

(I just want to say this has not directly happened to me, luckily enough, but something happened that made me want to write about this, because I am tired, too tired of this.)

[thatskepticalbitchcara]

General Intro Post

Hi I’m Cara. I’m a 20 something chaotic gay (general term, i don’t label myself) bitch who works in marketing/PR. you may know me from my friend cam’s podcast ( @whatiwillsay ). i post about a lot of different things on here but definitely a lot about taylor swift! some of my other interests are poetry, interior design, fashion, plant based cooking, astrology, cats, music, coffee, travel, film, writing, psychology, and art of all kinds. i dabble in guitar, photography, and drawing. i love discussing all kinds of topics and i’m open to most things. i’m a HUGE dianna agron stan who partially made this blog to talk about her, spread her beauty and elegance and sweetness for everyone to see since the gaylor fandom has historically made up all kinds of nasty stuff about her that is in NO way true.

general faq:

1. are you a gaylor? - yes and no. i got really into the gaylor theories in summer 2020 bc of the pandemic and i find an immense amount of queer/sapphic subtext in her music. i’m not married to the theories or ideas or whatever you want to call them. but i do find it super interesting to discuss.

2. why do you think taylor is gay/why are you forcing a sexuality on her/speculation is disgusting etc - you can’t force a sexuality on someone, let alone a straight person, who you do not even personally know. i don’t really “think” taylor is gay, i just think the speculation is fine and also fun. she has said and done many things on main to invite speculation and i *highly* doubt she cares (she profits off of it) based both on things she has said/done and stuff i’ve heard behind the scenes etc. she’s a filthy rich capitalist millionaire who partially is so successful bc of the marketing around her personal life and relationships. calling someone gay isn’t offensive. 🤷🏻‍♀️

3. do you ship swiftgron? - no, i do not. i don’t ship any real people, nor have i ever except a brief stint when i was 14. don’t ask 🙄 i just stan them both individually and i think it’s wild and hilarious that there are rumors they dated. so ofc i sometimes make jokes or reblog memes and i’m totally open to the discussion of course!! but i don’t ship them and i never have.

4. do you think dianna is gay? - i do not. i try to refrain from labeling anyone as straight who hasn’t publicly declared their heterosexuality, but i generally think she’s falls closer to the straight end of the spectrum. based on things she has said (like on multiple occasions), i am almost certain she has dabbled/experimented, but i don’t actually think she’s secretly gay. if ever she came out as something other than straight, i’d be pleasantly surprised. what a service to the wlw community 😌 but until then, i mean it when i say i don’t think she’s gay. i’m not just joking bc it’s my brand. and i’m OF COURSE more than open to discussing, speculating, etc.

5. why do you hate kaylor/kaylors? - i don’t hate all kaylors. but the answer is simple. they hate me, they hate dianna based on nothing that is rooted in reality, they are antisemitic, encourage conspiracy theorist thinking (which is a slippery slope), they are often homophobic and biphobic (yes, even the bi ones), they do not tend to have any respect for the people involved in their theories, they treat sexuality in a regressive manner, and a whole slew of other nasty and awful reasons.

6. why do you think it’s okay to gossip about celebs? - i simply do not care that much about rich, out of touch, white multimillionaires who profit off of gossip and will never see this blog. i’ve also written this post and discussed this on the pod with cam!

7. what is your sexuality? - i don’t like to label myself and don’t feel comfortable doing so but i love women.

8. do you think joe is really taylor’s boyfriend? - yes.

9. why didn’t you answer my DM? - it’s me, not you. i’m busy and also often overwhelmed by social interaction lmao. sometimes when i don’t have time to answer (or energy), i’ll still be online reblogging or answering asks but it requires different energy to do so. it’s not personal i swear. i do this with everyone irl too.

i may add or update this later but this is all i can think of for now. also hard rules:

1. please do not @ or mention celebs on social media when it comes to ANYTHING related to gossip, shipping, etc.

2. DO NOT be weird towards dianna please im begging. she has spoken about how she was impacted by people prying too much into her personal life and speculating on her sexuality. discuss it in private areas or discord or DMs or even on anon on here or whatever. just please don’t comment on her or her friends, coworkers, family’s, etc. social media and please don’t go digging for shit she doesn’t put out there for you to consume or anything that isn’t public info. i have heard secondhand that she hates it and was traumatized from glee and she more recently alluded to this in an interview too.

3. don’t come to me with any lesbophobia, homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, racism, antisemitism, etc. i won’t entertain it and i’m not here for inner community lgbtq discourse of any kind

4. have fun🥰