#but :] reality strikes again

[steelycunt]

all my uni rooms have had blackout curtains or shutters and it’s still really thrilling to me. i can bring the night back. you’ve got nothing on me

[cherry-chaos-cola]

Can't sleep again. Thinking about how I don't like knight/prince(ss) as a trope. Besides the fact that it's boring to me. This isn't "discourse" or a call out or anything it's just a personal interpretation and analysis

while yeah there's nothing wrong with that level of power imbalance in fiction, these tropes always act like that's a cute thing which I just find to be. 😬 y'know. Referring to a character as a "pet" for the royal one without understanding that that's. not a great dynamic to have. The "don't call them toxic or problematic!" When the relationship is inherently not equal and can never be without issues, but this can't possibly be discussed because then the person who ships it is a bad person 🙃

and for someee reason still bitching about the "more obvious" power imbalances like enemies, who most of the time end up being MORE equal because they're the same person same situation different fonts

It's fine to me when it's used as an insult (something something loyalty) and then there's discussion of "you know you mean so much more to me than that", or when there's a Very Obviously Fucked Up imbalance that is Very Obviously Not Normal and yet the one that gets the short end of the stick is like "fuck this I don't care that you think you're better than me. Your power only exists because I give you it, so be very careful how you use it" (and when they use it wrong there are consequences that don't get magically forgiven)

If the one with less control isn't very very aware of how much power the other has over them and could exert if they wanted to (but also the fact that the relationship and its genuineness hinges on their agreement) it gets a bit too concerning for me. If there isn't a certain level of meta intertextual analysis and understanding of the way the very much dominant/submissive dynamic works then it's just. Not interesting and often frustrating

Edit: this should have said intra-textual ("in the text itself", which I apparently not a word) not inter-textual (between texts)

[ghostmarmot]

The scales have fallen from my eyes.

My shit sucks. I thought I was a 4-ish on a 5 pt. scale. Nope, I'm a 2. 2.5 if I was really "on" when I was writing. I thought I was noteworthy, but I'm blah.

Finally, I can understand the rejection letters.

Finally, I can start to grow as an author.

Finally...

[elysiaskz]

js saw a woman with a skz jacket at the gas station and was so happy im very normal about skz can you tell 😍😍

[nando161mando]

The Metacrisis Strikes Again

[trentreznorspussy]

one fun thing about me is i furrow my brow a lot when i’m focusing/reading something and i don’t really outwardly express my happiness when i'm enjoy something so this is the face i make when i’m consuming something i’m interested in and having a fucking blast

[delicatefury]

This is a Fantasy Story, not a grimdark tale of the suffering of the universe. A slave wins the race, a farmboy saves the day. Love convinces the monster to turn on his evil master. There is hope even in the darkest of times.

What a beautiful through-line in the 6 Star Wars mainline movies. Too bad Disney and its “creators” didn’t get the message.

I found a Filoni/Lucas interaction over the creation of Ahsoka, and I'm chortling.

Basically Filoni wanted Ahsoka to be a serious commentary on war and child soldiers and her lack of preparation because she's not trained for it

But then George basically told him:

So, in other words: She's got this, and lighten the fuck up :D

[steelycunt]

does sometimes make me sad that i dont have a better relationship with my sister especially when i see other people who do have good relationships with their siblings but then well i have one conversation with her lasting no more than four minutes and its like oh no i for SURE cant do this with you today 😂👍

[squireofgeekdom]

The biggest reason you know Paradise (Hulu 2025) is highly speculative fiction not super tied to reality isn't whatever's going on with their Disaster Movie (TM) backstory or this self sustaining underground society with a wide variety of (plant based) food with no visible agriculture or industrial processing. No that I'll suspend disbelief for. The real disconnect is that there's a dysfunctional puppet president and a billionaire actually running everything BUT the president actually has a moral compass that he sometimes even acts on. And the billionaire actually cares about something more than money and ego. Truly we are in fantasy territory here.

[daisyachain]

Great that Andreas has no option but to be an out-of-touch bourgeois

[euphorial-docx]

during the wga/sag-aftra strike, we may see:

film in other countries continuing as usual, but those actors/writers are NOT crossing picket lines! other countries unions often have rules where they can’t strike in solidarity with american unions.

new indie movies separate from hollywood studios. indie movies can continue as usual too, and may even use union actors if they follow certain guidelines and/or get permission from the union.

awards shows, although they might look different and may be postponed. if there are award shows during the strike, there’s a chance they will just be live conferences announcing winners with no celebrations attached.

celebrities will not be promoting their work during this time— that WOULD be crossing the picket line! yes, this includes social media. they can still post on social media, as long as it doesn’t pertain to their work.

a lot more reality tv. this happened the last time there was a writers strike, and it will certainly happen again.

actors will also not be able to campaign for awards. this awards season is going to be a strange one.

propaganda from hollywood. they are already trying to flip the narrative by claiming they can break the unions, but they can’t. the strikers have the power. stand with them for however long this takes!

[loycos]

ahh caitlyn my beloved.

let's talk about the trauma she has around jinx, in particular, in a way i think is more related to being targeted by jinx than just grief.

don't get me wrong- grief is a huge part of why caitlyn is all over the place this arc (season?). she probably came to the conclusion that her softer, pacifistic attitude from the first season is the reason she ended up hurt. clearly the rocky relationship she had with her mother adds a layer of bitterness and regret caitlyn is feeling regarding her death. alongside a million different reasons, which i might discuss in a different post.

but there's a clear difference between the anger and coldness we see from caitlyn when she discusses catching jinx and bringing her to justice, than when she faces jinx head on. in the latter, she suddenly loses her cool and acts all frantically, so unlike anything we've seen from caitlyn so far.

in her mind, in episode 1, she sees herself as collected and calm, aiming her rifle at jinx. btw, take note of how jinx is depicted here. her eyes are glowing.

but in reality, she's very much NOT cool and collected when she thinks that exact scenario is about to be replicated.

that's caitlyn's pov btw:

again jinx with the glowing eyes- caitlyn had seen what jinx looks like in other circumstances, but THIS is the version of her that she visualizes and then irrationally reacts to.

we see it again when she shoots jinx in the finger

no composure, no deep breathe, no thinking. she just shoots on instinct. it's nothing like she used to.

and then her frantically calling vi to move out of the way as she keeps firing, almost like shes blind to everything but jinx- the kid and vi, who are both in harm's way, don't stop her.

i know it's easy to just paint it as anger and grief here, but there's something about it that strikes me as almost like animalistic fear. she sees jinx and just goes feral mode, but its almost more of a prey instinct than a predator.

and i think it's because whenever she faces jinx, properly, it's not the grief and radicalized anger she's feeling, it just sends her back to this moment

with all the "jinx murdered her mom" talk its easy to forget that jinx also directly, and cruelly, targeted caitlyn, tried to kill her, kidnapped her and held her hostage for who knows how long. it's not just anger that caitlyn feels towards jinx. it's a trauma response. and like, welcome to the club, caitlyn! most of the arcane cast are acting out of trauma. but i better not see people think her trauma is somewhat lesser than some... other.. characters.

[marvelsmostwanted]

Today in 🍂✨October surprises✨🍂

• Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg and Secretary of Labor Julie Su quietly assisted in winning labor rights for dockworkers, ending a strike that could have had catastrophic economic consequences. (10-4-24)

• In Springfield, Ohio, where Haitian migrants have been blamed for the disappearance of local animals with Trump claiming “‘migrants are walking off’ with geese in the town” and “they’re eating the dogs” - a lie also promoted by JD Vance, Ohio’s own sitting Senator, with no evidence - it turns out that the missing geese were actually the victims of a 64-year-old white man who was hunting illegally. (10-3-24)

• A Trump-appointed federal judge blocked Biden’s student loan forgiveness plan again after another judge reinstated it earlier this week. (10-3-24)

• Republicans and crazy Facebook uncles everywhere have spent this week spreading disinformation about the FEMA response to Hurricane Helene, including AI photos of Trump standing in floodwater and wild claims that Biden is sending money to undocumented immigrants. In reality, the Biden-Harris administration has provided substantial emergency assistance and both Biden and Harris have visited the region. Meanwhile, it turns out that Trump was the one who redirected money from disaster relief to send to ICE during his presidency. Shocker. (10-4-24)

• Seriously, though, Trump is not who you want to call in an emergency. Before allowing disaster relief to reach victims of wildfires in California, then-president Trump forced aides to show him an electoral map to see if he had voters there. He evidently intended to withhold the aid if he found out it was going to mostly Democratic voters. This would be a career-ending scandal in any other political era but alas, we are living in this one. (10-3-24)

• Finally, far-right extremist and Oklahoma superintendent of schools Ryan Walters intends to put Bibles in public schools, which is already disturbing, but in a stunning display of corruption, the only ones that meet his specifications are the so-called “Trump Bibles” that include the Constitution and Declaration of Independence. They go for $60 apiece and Trump gets fees from each one. (10-4-24)

No, wait, I’m going to say that one again:

In Oklahoma, taxpayers’ money will be used to put Trump Bibles in public schools. Their money will go directly to Trump. Not a joke!!! Not an exaggeration!!!

…Surely the voters who are still undecided are lying, right?? Right?!

30 days until Election Day.

Go to vote.org for a sample ballot, early voting dates, and more. Seriously, we have to win.

[the-halloween-jack]

DC ✢ When he realised he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

The moment had been a quiet revelation, in a silence so profound it frightened him. The kind of silence that followed the first crack of thunder, one moment loud and undeniable, the next building with tension, waiting for it to strike again. 

You were sitting in the library of the manor, an arcane book resting open upon your lap, the fire crackling softly behind you. He had just returned from patrol — broken, bloodied, and defeated.

You looked up, eyes wide, alarmed at his state and asked, ‘Bruce?’ You had spoken as if he were not the Batman, not an emblem of vengeance and grit, but a man, just a man, whose hurt mattered.

Something in him gave out. Not in an ostentatious, cinematic collapse, but in the subtle yielding of defences too long held taut. His mind, a fortress of rationale and boundaries, fell silent.

She sees me, for all I am, it whispered. And yet she stays.

He had not believed in unconditional love since the alleyway. But in that moment, with the stench of blood from his suit and the leaden weight of the city upon his back, he saw love for what it was — not a sanctuary, but a quiet understanding, and a choosing. And she had chosen him.

It terrified him. Because now he had yet another thing to lose, to protect, something that was not abstract. It had a name. A voice. A laugh. It sat in his home and softened his world.

He had never been the same since.

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

It crept up on him — not a wave, but rather a tide. Quiet and constant and utterly irreversible.

You had fallen asleep in his bed, still holding a game controller, your brow furrowed even in your unconsciousness. He watched you in the blue glow of the screen and thought, God, I’d die for her.

And then came the laugh — low, bitter, surprised. Because of course he would. He was always ready to die for someone.

But this felt different. This was not a compulsion, a sense of duty. It was not about legacy or guilt. It was about you. And the way your presence grounded the part of him that had always been just suspended above the world, half-grieving, half-trying.

He remembered kissing your forehead before leaving for patrol that night. Slow. Lingering. The kind of kiss that was not about want, but reverence.

That was when he knew.

Love was not a thrill. It was a weight. And he had never wanted anything to anchor him, to tether him to this sphere, more than you.

The realisation made him smile. And then it made him ache.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

Jason felt it like the first rays of sun upon his back after a piercing winter, it flooded his system, warm and compelling. It struck him all of a sudden — new, unfamiliar, and… unwelcome. He did not want it. He had not asked for it.

You were brushing your teeth, half-asleep, wearing one of his old shirts, humming a song under your breath as though nothing was wrong in the world, as though it were not in a state of disrepair just beyond the window. And while watching you, he could believe it for a moment too.

Jason stood in the doorway, paralysed. Because he had seen too much tragedy, too much carnage. He could hardly believe that a quiet instant of peace, like this, could even exist, let alone in his reality.

His first instinct was to run. Not literally — he could never leave you. But to emotionally retreat, to steel himself for the moment this fleeting softness was stolen from him.

But you looked at him. Just looked — toothpaste foam and all — with a kind of amused concern, and asked, ‘You okay?’

After everything he had been through. He was not sure he had ever been less okay.

He loved you. He loved you with a passion that made him feel unworthy, as if he had tainted something holy.

A voice in him protested — said it was weakness. Said this would end in catastrophe. But he ignored it, just this once. He stepped forward and kissed your temple.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just tired.’ But he was not. This was a lie. His mind was reeling.

He did not sleep that night. He lay awake memorising your breathing.

T I M⠀D R A K E

It was a question you asked that did it. Something ordinary, like, ‘Did you eat today?’

Tim wanted to laugh because it was such a cliché, wasn’t it? But clichés exist because they are true. No one ever asked him that, not like you had, not like it genuinely mattered. 

Then you brought him a coffee, one of those orders so tailored it was essentially an identity. You did not need to ask what he wanted. You simply knew.

He blinked down at the cup, then at you, and suddenly the task he was completing meant nothing.

He felt the world tilt. Quietly. Like the axis of his orbit had shifted. And it had.

Love, to Tim, had always been a puzzle he did not have time to solve. A thing for normal people, with normal lives, for people who lacked the responsibility he had garnered.

But there it was — simple, unassuming and irreversible.

He did not tell you. Not for a long time.

But he began cataloguing what made you smile. The way your face changed after a laugh, crinkled and carefree. He noticed the way your eyes sparkled just a little brighter when you spoke of things that made you passionate, and how the corners of your lips turned up when you were lost in a quiet thought.

This love became his sustenance, it was the first time in years he feared forgetting something.

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E (Aged up as Batman)

It had infuriated him. The sheer idiocy of it.

Love was chemical, juvenile, a distraction. Or so he had been taught. So he had believed.

And yet there he stood — across from you in the garden, where you were speaking to a stray dog as if it were royalty, and something in his chest pulled.

At first, he mistook it for contempt — annoyance at your softness in a moment where he was attempting to be serious. But then you looked up, grinned, and said, ‘I think she likes me.’

And the words caught in his throat. Not because he did not believe them, but because he liked you. Against every grain of his upbringing.

He wanted to scold you, retreat, build walls. But instead, he asked the cat’s name.

That was the beginning. The fracture.

He loved you. In an old, mythic sense. In the way poets spoke of their love — fierce, unyielding, as though it could bend the very fabric of time. 

And that it did, time slowed every time you entered his concentration.

He began to dream of futures — a concept once as foreign to him as mercy.

He has not told you. But he will. In his own time. For now, he will continue to relish in it, and continue in this alluring descent. 

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He did not realise. Not at first. Because what he felt for you was too immense, too intrinsic, to label with as small as a word as love.

It was not until you fell asleep in his arms, mumbling about a stressful day, completely unaware of the god you were held by, that it hit him.

You did not see him as Superman. You saw him as Clark Kent. You simply saw him. The man. His hope. His grief.

And he realised then — you are his tether.

He thought of Krypton. Of its loss. Of the gaping emptiness it had left as soon as he had learnt of it. And for the first time in years, he did not feel hollow. He felt… full. He realised, that the planet could never have been home to him like she was. 

You snored softly. He laughed. Then cried.

Love, he realised, was not loud. It was simply your hand over his heart. It was your laughter in the next room. It was your body next to his.

He had not fallen in love. He had found it, unexpected and irrevocable, and for all the power he had been bestowed, this force had left him helpless to resist.

And now he guards it with everything he is. Because you are not just his world.

You are his home.

If you're interested, I've since posted a follow-up called 'When he admitted he loved you' linked, here. Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

[tojigasm]

Thinking about older!Logan and how he'd definitely clock the crush you have on him as soon as you meet him.

It's amusing to him, and unfortunately for you, Logan wasn't born yesterday and he absolutely catches your long stares when you think he's not looking or the way you avert your eyes from his whenever speaking to you.

He thinks it's cute and a little stupid on your behalf – a twenty year old something kid crushing on some fifty year old man old enough to be your father.

But it's when the two of your eyes meet from across the room that he knows he's completely fucked because damn if you're not the prettiest thing he's seen in a good fifteen years or so and damn if he doesn't want to treat you the way he knows boys your age aren't

When he finally gets you alone, it escalates faster than either of you could've imagined.

"Shy little thing arent'cha?" He comments from his seat beside you, "Am I really that mean and scary?"

For a moment, you don't realize he's speaking to you until you look up to scan the room before meeting his eyes.

Logan seems to have followed your eyes, scanning each nook and crevice along with you.

"See any ghosts?"

Your eyes narrow slightly in annoyance.

"M'not shy."

Logan hums from his seat, leaning forward to pick up his cigar from the table. Settling back into his chair, he takes a long drag.

"Sure y'rnot." He replies with a smirk, smoke pooling from his lips as he exhales through his words.

You don't break eye contact with him this time, and he's got you right where he wants you.

"M'not." You repeat.

"Oh, I know you're not." Logans voice suddenly shifts to a lighter tone, laced with tease. The switch throws you off for a moment. "Don't think I haven't seen you, do you?"

And there's no need for him to elaborate. You've been caught in your school girl crush that, in reality, you know you won't get in trouble for but it's the fear of disappointing the older man that strikes a chord of anxiety through you.

You don't say anything to that, and the two of you only stare at one another before Logan's placing his cigar back down into the ashtray and motioning for you to come towards him.

You obey without question, partially in response to your training with him and partially wanting to show him how good you can be, how good you are – you have complete trust in him.

Logan seems to sense the slight of your unease, helping to lead you to straddle his lap as you sit down atop him.

His thighs spread out beneath you, helping to keep you balanced.

"That's better, huh?" He asks.

You nod, eyes drifting downwards to where your hands have begun to trace over the detailed lines of his leather suit.

There's quietness to the moment. One that seems as though it could last forever as Logan keeps a gentle hand on your thigh and the other on the arm of the chair, content on letting you distract yourself for the moment.

"Jesus," Logan comments, making you look up to meet his eyes again.

He cups a hand to your jaw, softly turning your head left and right to look you over.

"Can tell you right now," he cuts himself off with a hesitant inhale, the pads of his gloves running along your hips as he slides his hands up and down the shape of your waist to your thigh, "– When I was younger I would've been all over ya'."

Something about the image that draws your mind makes your core ache and your legs weak – imagining a younger version of the older man in the moment, the whitesh grey streaks in his hair bring you back to earth just as fast.

Logan holds your chin with two of his fingers, pad of his gloved thumb stroking your soft skin, and in the same moment, the two of you are kissing.

His lips are soft against your plush ones. His tongue is rough as he takes his time to run the wet muscle up the insides of your cheeks and around your own tongue.

You run your nails through the short of his hair, tangling your fingers in the thick of his tufts.

Logan groans into the kiss, shuffling down the seat to spread his thighs out further beneath you.

His hand comes up to cup your heat, and you gasp into the kiss before grinding your hips into his large palm.

Logan smiles into the kiss.

It only takes him a moment before the pad of his thumb is deftly pressed against your clit through the layers of your suit and you're pulling away from the kiss to moan.

Your brows furrow, and your hands drop from his hair to rest atop his shoulders, letting out soft moans and hums as his finger circles your bud.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw, pulling back to lean against the chair, watching as you relax into his hold.

"That feels good." You manage through a whimper, humming lightly as he shifts his movements to figure eights over your clit.

Logan gives a half chuckle, "I bet it does." His free hand holds you by your hip, keeping you still as you begin to rock into his hand.

"Right there, huh?" He asks, and you nod weakly, rolling your hips into his hand.

"M'close." You breathe.

Logan nods, "Tell Daddy where you want him."

You're quick to obey, dropping your hand from his shoulder to hold his wrist in place, letting out a choked sob when he runs his fingers over your sensitive folds through your suit.

There's not much warning besides a moan that gets caught half way up your throat as you cum.

Logan only continues to run his fingers over your cunt, stroking your folds before your pushing his hand away, swallowing soft gasps for air as you relax against him.

You can feel him kiss the top of your head, his hand stroking up and down the soft of your back while your fingers are tangled with the other.

"Y'okay?" He asks into your hair.

You nod.

[steelycunt]

the traitors is such delicious tv im so obsessed with it..even if the only people watching it are perhaps my mother and i