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kallie-den · 8 months ago

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Your Type

Paige, a trans woman, goes on a date with a reality-warping lesbian who is determined to mold her into ‘her type’

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“So,” Paige said, watching her date carefully over her wine glass as she took a sip. The bar’s house white - good, but a touch dry for her palate. “What’s your type?”

Sophia, the woman sitting opposite her, laughed, amused. “Quite a question, for a first date. It really puts me on the spot.”

“Does it?” Paige challenged playfully.

She was having a good time. Paige had been skeptical - when you were a trans lesbian, dates with strangers could be risky. But she’d decided to take a chance and, fortunately, Sophia was making a good first impression. The woman her friend had set her up with was dressed smart, in a white, satin dress that matched nicely with her fair skin and platinum hair. She was pretty, too, and seemed professional - a good match for a career woman like Paige. Yes, it was strange that she was wearing darkened sunglasses inside a bar, but Paige was happy to overlook a small affectation.

“Well,” Sophia mused, stroking the rim of her glass, “if I tell you that you’re my type, it sounds like nothing more than boorish flattery. But if I describe anything else, then I’m offending you. I’m in a bind.”

Paige laughed too. She was pleased her date could enjoy a little verbal sparring. The atmosphere was perfect for it. The bar was classy - quiet but not dead - and the two of them were tucked away in a private corner so they could talk. Paige had come straight from work but she’d still been able to steal some time to freshen up, and she knew she looked good in her tailored suit, with her long, brunette hair up in a nice ponytail and her nails newly-manicured.

“It’s actually something I ask on all my first dates,” Paige explained. “The answer tells you a lot about someone.”

“And what are you looking to hear?” Sophia shot back, smiling.

“The truth.” Paige shrugged. “Look, I’m not expecting to be exactly your type. That would be one in a million. I just want to see if we have a real shot. I turned thirty a few years ago, I don’t feel like playing games anymore. I’m in your strike range? Wonderful, and we can make sure the mismatches aren’t deal-breakers. If I’m not? We make this just a drink, maybe a night of fun, and go our separate ways.”

Paige knew exactly how that sounded. In fact, it was part of the test. If Sophia got spooked by Paige’s no-bullshit way of doing things, it wasn’t going to work out. Better to find out now than in two months’ time. Fortunately, Sophia was still smiling. The other woman raised an eyebrow as she sat back to sip her wine.

“You’re a woman who knows what she wants,” Sophia noted. “I like that.”

Paige nodded appreciatively. “Oh, and I’m not afraid to put my cards on the table first. You are definitely my type.”

Sophia giggled. “Well, thank you. I’m happy to share, really - I love games, and this is a delightful one. So, let’s get very clear on something first, shall we?”

“What’s that?”

Suddenly, Sophia leaned forward and reached up to lower her sunglasses. She fixed Paige with a devastatingly sharp gaze.

“You are going to be my type. In fact, you need to be. You’re desperate to be.”

For a moment, as Sophia spoke, Paige stopped breathing. It wasn’t Sophia’s words. It was her eyes. Her irises. Paige had never seen anything like them. It was impossible. They were moving, shifting, a hundred times a second, endlessly; an infinite fractal-pattern of shapes, sharp and round and spiraling all at once. And the colors! Every color was in those eyes. In those patterns. A rainbow, kaleidoscopic, but more than that, too. Colors Paige had never seen before. Impossible colors. Maddening colors.

Staring into Sophia’s eyes was like looking into a glitch in reality. And the longer she looked, the more she felt like that unstable glitching was spilling out. Enveloping her. Engulfing her. Paige felt the very fiber of her being as it was unwritten and rewritten - and all just because she’d seen those eyes. It made the skin of her own existence feel so perilously thin, and her very reality feel dizzyingly malleable.

But then Sophia pushed her sunglasses back up over her eyes, and it was all gone. And then the words caught back up with Paige.

“I’m going to…” Paige repeated dumbly. “I need… desperate…?”

She looked at Sophia, in urgent need of clarity. Sophia just nodded.

“That’s right, Paige. You’re going to be my type. You need to be my type. It’s probably why you’re so keen to ask me about it.”

Paige’s mind was racing with a million questions. The big ones - what was wrong with Sophia’s eyes? What was that feeling that had washed over her? - were far too great to fit into words. Perhaps that was why, instead, she found herself latching onto the small incongruities.

“N-no,” Paige said slowly. “No, that’s not right. That’s not why I ask. Like I just told you, it’s because I think-“

Paige stopped talking. She froze because she was realizing that somehow, impossibly, she was wrong, and Sophia was right.

She needed to be Sophia’s type. She was desperate to be. And she was going to be.

Paige barely understood what that meant, but all the same, she was filled with a breathless eagerness. She felt like a butterfly about to burst from its cocoon, ready to taste the world in newly metamorphosed lungs - but to experience that plunge, that freedom, she needed an answer. She needed the answer that only Sophia could speak. Suddenly, Paige’s need for it was agonizing. She was trembling. Craving it, like an addict for a fix. She needed to know what Sophia’s type was.

But clearly, there was something more important than that going on. Paige suppressed the new urge and gripped the edge of her seat, knuckles white, to steady her nerves.

“What did you do?” she demanded, shocked.

“Hm?” Sophia seemed faintly surprised. “Oh, yeah, you’re probably a little distracted, aren’t you? Let me explain, although I won’t get technical on you.” She reached up and tapped the corner of her sunglasses with a fingertip. “With these eyes, I’ve got reality wrapped around my little finger. Past, present, future. Body, mind, soul. All of it.”

“You… you can just… change reality?” Paige was dumbfounded. It sounded impossible, but the urge welling up inside her was all the evidence she needed. Was the woman sitting across from her a superhero? A goddess? “How is that even possible?”

“Tsk.” Sophia shook her head. “This always happens. Sorry babe, but we’re supposed to be on a date. I’m gonna need you to focus on me here. So…”

Once again, she reached up and lowered her sunglasses. As soon as Paige realized what was happening, she tried to look away - but it was too late. The very first glimpse of those impossible, reality-glitch eyes had her captivated. And there it was again: the gnawing, discomforting awareness of her own malleability. As she stared, entranced and powerless, Paige felt like nothing more than an origami doll. Her existence was as thin as paper - and here was a woman who could bend and fold her into new shapes.

“Just don’t worry about it,” Sophia told her.

Paige blinked back to life as those eyes once again disappeared behind the sunglasses. As the existential unease faded, Paige expected her intense concern about the nature of Sophia’s abilities to return - but it didn’t. It just didn’t. Somehow, Paige couldn’t seem to muster up any particular feelings about what Sophia could do, or what she was doing to her. It simply didn’t seem important.

She wasn’t worried about it.

“Oh…” Paige said faintly, as that dawned on her. “OK.”

Perhaps not worrying should have itself worried her, but she proved to be equally cut off from that. Instead, as momentous as Sophia’s power seemed, it quickly became unremarkable to Paige. She wasn’t worried about it. Her date with Sophia was far, far more important.

And Paige’s new need came roaring to the forefront of her mind.

“So, um,” Paige said restlessly. She took a sip of wine to try and calm herself. It didn’t help. “What’s your type? I really need to know.”

“You do, do you?” Sophia's thin smile widened. She sat back again, clearly pondering. “Let’s see… what’s my type today?”

Paige was hanging on her next words. She could sense they would mean everything to her.

“You know,” Sophia said eventually, with an air of frivolity that was entirely at odds with how Paige felt about the pronouncement, “I think my type is girls with short hair.”

A pang of disappointment made Paige inhale sharply as, for the first time ever, she regretted her commitment to growing her hair out. But it faded just as suddenly as it had appeared, when Paige realized there was no problem whatsoever.

She had short hair.

Paige had to reach up and check, which was funny, because having short hair was perfectly normal for her. That was just the kind of girl she was. Sure enough, instead of a ponytail - why had she expected a ponytail? - her fingertips touched the ends of her short bob. That seemed wrong - but only for the briefest of moments.

“I… I have short hair?” Paige said dumbly. She wasn’t sure why it came out like a question.

She had short hair. Of course she did.

But why? That fact seemed oddly incongruous. After all, long hair had always been so important to Paige. It was a symbol of her transition. Of her femininity. She’d always hated the thought of getting it cut. So, why would she have short hair? The more she dwelt on the incongruity, the more it became an insisting, throbbing ache at her temples. She needed to make it make sense.

And then it did.

Paige felt herself plunged into an unfamiliar memory. Herself, rushing to a salon the morning after a sobbing breakdown, voice trembling as she asked the stylist to cut her hair off. It had felt so freeing. Her long hair had become a prison of expectations. Cutting it off had been a ritual. An affirmation.

She didn’t need long hair to be a woman. To be feminine. She simply was. Paige could look the way she’d always wanted. Peering further back, to those miserable college days before her egg had cracked, her memories of her transition goals were shifting. Sigourney Weaver in Alien. Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted. Of course. Of course Paige had ended up with short hair. It made perfect sense.

Soon enough, her memories lost that unfamiliar flavor. They had always been like that. She had always been like this. Paige had short hair.

“Wow,” she giggled, “I’m off to a lucky start. Looks like I’m your type.”

Right away, the fact of her short hair became euphoric. She had short hair. She was Sophia’s type. That was wonderful. Amazing. It was the best news she’d heard in months. It was what she needed.

“Indeed.” Something twinkled in Sophia’s eyes. “You’re rocking the look.”

“Thank you.” Paige reached up and touched her hair. She did that a lot. It made her happy. Short hair didn’t take a lot of effort to keep neat and sleek, but still, it was nice to be complimented for it. “I’m glad you like it.”

She was. She was unbearably glad. Paige just had to hope her grin wasn’t too off-puttingly eager. Knowing she was Sophia’s type made her so happy.

Only, surely Sophia’s type went beyond just hair. The gnawing craving in Paige’s chest itched at her anew. It wasn’t even close to sated.

“And…” Paige pressed. “What else? Tell me more. What’s your type?”

She had to strain to keep her voice measured. Paige didn’t want to make this creepy. But she couldn’t help sounding a little urgent. This was so important.

“Hmm…” Sophia mused. It was plain that she was enjoying the way Paige was sitting forward, shoulders tense, desperate for an answer. “Now that you mention it, I’ve always felt like girls who are all about pink are my type. Know what I mean?”

“P… pink?” Paige said plaintively.

She tried to reason with herself over it. Paige liked pink. She liked it as much as the next girl, anyway. Didn’t that count? In her heart, she knew it didn’t. Sophia’s type was girls who were all about pink, and Paige had always felt faintly at odds with the color. Pink clothes, pink lipstick, pink accessories - they all made her feel like she was stereotyping herself a little. Girls didn’t need to wear pink all the time.

But Paige did.

It hit her like a roaring wind. The infatuation. The obsession. Paige loved pink. It was a touch stereotypical, yes, but that was exactly why Paige adored it so much. There was something indulgent about surrounding herself with it. It was something she could rest her identity on. Blue was for boys, but pink? Pink was for girls. Girls liked pink.

“Pink,” Paige sighed happily, reverently, as the story of her life flailed and twisted out behind her like a serpent’s tail.

When she’d started her transition, pink had felt like coming home. Everything pink she’d bought had become a source of joy. It was funny, though, because Paige remembered feeling a little tokenized whenever someone - a family member, a friend - had given her something pink to clumsily signal their acceptance. Then, a moment later, she remembered more. She remembered overcoming that little hang-up. All of a sudden, her unwillingness to embrace pink was recast as early-transition blues; as holding back, as instinctive repression.

She’d overcome it, of course. And now Paige was all about pink.

Paige looked down. Her suit was pink. Of course it was. She owned a black suit, sure, for somber occasions, but mostly it was consigned to the black of her closet to gather dust. Paige always wore pink suits to work. It turned heads, naturally, but she didn’t mind - not as long as when people looked at her, they saw ‘pink’. Plus, she rationalized - and as she rationalized, it became her truth - it was a nice way to make sure her short hair didn’t mislead people into thinking she was aiming to be androgynous.

“I’m all about pink!” The words burst out of Paige; a cry of joy, a plea for attention. She was Sophia’s type, and she needed Sophia to know.

“So you are,” Sophia giggled. “You’re quite the Barbie.”

The comment made Paige shockingly euphoric. But why wouldn’t it? She was all about pink, and what was pinker than Barbie? Paige remembered seeing the movie posters, and the ads, and- no, no, suddenly she remembered seeing the movie itself. Making time on opening night, despite the pressures of work.

It had been so worth it. So much pink.

“Thanks,” Paige replied, still glowing with the pleasure of being Sophia’s type. “I know it’s getting a little much, at my age, but I just can’t help-“

“At your age?” Sophia seized on that gleefully. “That’s another thing. My type is younger girls, actually.”

“Younger girls?” Paige was immediately crestfallen, but she could already feel the explosive energy of change welling inside her. Already, lines were disappearing from her face. She was caught between despair and hope. “Younger than… you?” She wasn’t sure how old Sophia was, exactly. Suddenly she was hoping for late thirties. Perhaps even pushing forty. “H-how young?”

“Oh, you know.” Sophia seemed to be deciding. She made a little show of counting down on her fingers. “Early twenties, say.”

“Fuck,” Paige breathed - both out of regret, and out of awe at the reality shift that was starting to take her.

This one was different. It made her head throb like nothing else. It felt like her skull was going to implode. Paige could feel her past not just changing, but contracting. Memories gone. Birthdays snuffed out. Suddenly, the nineties she’d grown up in was nothing more than a set of images on TV; a set of anecdotes recounted by older coworkers.

Growing up without the internet? It was a crazy thought, suddenly. Paige found that, even in her last moments of remembering it, she couldn’t seem to comprehend it.

The process was terrifying - or it should have been. But Paige wasn’t worried about it. Couldn’t worry about it. Instead, her eagerness to please, to be Sophia’s type, forced its way through her confusion.

“T-that’s good,” Paige struggled to say. “I’m y-younger.” And she was so pleased about it, too. “I’m… I’m…”

It was a little alarming to realize that she didn’t know quite how old she was. Paige’s age was still in flux. It was like Schroedinger’s cat. She’d yet to settle on it. Paige found herself torn. How young was ‘younger’? Part of her wanted to push her luck. To save what could still be saved of her past. Twenty-four? That could still be ‘early twenties’, right? It was younger than twenty-five, at least.

But what if it wasn’t good enough? That was the other thought, and it soon carried the day. Above all, Paige needed to be Sophia’s type. It was so important.

“I-I’m twenty-one!” Paige sang out, in a voice that was suddenly just that bit fresher and higher.

Twenty-one. Of course she was twenty-one. It had only been last month - her birthday, that little ritual, going to a bar, buying a drink with her real ID as her friends cheered and the bartender winked. As moments passed, that memory became more and more solid and concrete in Paige’s head. It was real, undoubtedly. Far more real than the ten or so years she’d just lost, all of that life and time metaphysically shredded into nothing more than hypothetical abstraction.

“Twenty-one?” Sophia cocked an eyebrow playfully. “That’s kind of hot.”

Paige tittered and blushed. That was so naughty. There was something thrilling about going on a date with an older woman - why did that thought taste so new? It wasn’t. Paige was sure of that. At least, she thought she was. She’d been giddy with anticipation ever since her friend had, with a knowing wink, proposed setting her up with Sophia.

Paige had a thing for older women. She must. Why else would she be on a date with Sophia? Her attraction to Sophia took on a new flavor.

“Twenty-one,” Paige repeated. The thought was settling. “Yeah. Um. Yeah.”

Twenty-one. She was twenty-one. Fuck. She was younger than Sophia.

She was still dizzy from the change. So much of her life had been put into flux. Only slowly was it falling into place. Paige struggled to make sense of it all, grasping at possible solutions that turned to stone - to reality - as soon as she latched onto them. Her transition moved backward, to her teenage years. The miserable, closeted portion of her life was high school now, not college. College - that felt like just yesterday. Paige had only just graduated. She was so young!

But of course she was. She was twenty-one.

It changed everything. Only the bare outline remained fixed. Suddenly, instead of Sigourney Weaver and Winona Ryder, Paige had been showing her hair stylist pictures of Miley Cyrus. Kristen Stewart. Those were her idols now - at least, in some ways. Neither of them was quite pink enough for Paige’s liking.

2010s pop culture was pouring into her head, replacing what she’d lost. It was a wild experience. And somehow, it felt like it had always been there.

And then there was her job. Paige was a successful career professional. She worked in management. A twenty-one-year-old manager? Wasn’t that absurd? Paige tried her hardest to cling to that one thing. She was so proud of it, after all. Mercifully, the thread of reality she was pulling on didn’t quite snap.

Right. Yes. She remembered now. She was a twenty-one-year-old manager. Paige had started interning in college, and she’d made a big impression at the company she’d worked for. They’d been willing to take a chance on her and hire her into a senior role right out of college. She was a rising star. It was rough sometimes, of course, having so many subordinates who were younger. It was a fight to get them to take her seriously. Especially given all the pink she wore. But Paige couldn’t be stopped. The pink became a statement. Young women - young trans women - of her generation could do anything. She was a girlboss. The world was her oyster.

And a thousand other things about her reality shifted. Big changes and small ones, spreading out along implications and possibilities like cracks in ice. With the strange power Sophia had infused into her, Paige was rewriting her entire being - and all of it, just to be Sophia’s type.

“How old are you?” Paige asked. She just wanted to hear it.

“Old enough,” Sophia replied rakishly. “The waitress probably thinks we’re mother and daughter.”

Paige shivered rapturously. It wasn’t the age gap, not really - although, yes, she found that hot, now. Frankly, working in management was a little distracting in that department. So many hot, older women were Paige’s coworkers. It was the kind of thing a young lesbian could get worked up over. But what mattered far, far more than that was that she was Sophia’s type.

“So… I’m perfect, right?” Paige was desperate to be. It was written into the fiber of her being now. “Perfect for you?”

“You’re getting there,” Sophia offered. Just hearing that was intoxicating. “But… oh, I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t say it.”

“What?” Paige’s heart skipped a beat. The mere possibility of a mismatch between herself and Sophia’s ideal was panic-inducing. “No. No, tell me.”

She needed to know. She needed to know, so that she could become.

“It might be a big ask,” Sophia warned. The smile on her face was more than a little cruel. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes!” Paige answered at once. Her apprehension was swept away effortlessly by gnawing desperation. “Please.”

“If you insist,” Sophia replied. Her manner was painfully unhurried. “The thing is, my type happens to be girls who are… well… dumb.”

“W-what?” Paige whimpered. “That… that’s…”

It was awful. Sophia’s type was dumb girls, and Paige had always prided herself on her intelligence. But as much as she feared losing her brains, the inexorable pull towards becoming Sophia’s ideal was stronger. Paige could already feel it, taking her into its flow, draining hard-won knowledge out of her head.

“I’m dumb,” Paige pleaded, half-sincerely, searching desperately for an angle to shoot for. “At least… um… m-maybe a little forgetful? My friends are always saying-“

She froze. Saying what? Paige could feel reality shifting beneath her feet as the memories came back to her.

Ditzy. Airheaded. That’s what her friends always called her, wasn’t it? After all, she’d always been the slow one in the friend group. Even in college, someone had to be the dumbest. Of course, in Paige’s case, they even joked it was a miracle she’d been able to graduate. Paige could feel it, even now. Her head getting a little foggier. Her thoughts, a little simpler and cruder. As soon as she felt it, it became familiar.

“Oh, no,” Sophia said, dashing her hopes. “I’m afraid it goes a little beyond that. I’m talking about really dumb girls. That’s my type.”

Paige’s head throbbed painfully as she absorbed that, and reconfigured herself again. College? No way. She’d tried, sure - middle-class family expectations - but Paige had ended up dropping out in her first year. She simply couldn’t follow along in lectures.

“I’m… I’m really dumb,” Paige confessed bashfully. It was kind of embarrassing, coming right out with it on a first date - but hey, it was better than a new lover dumping her after three months once she realized Paige couldn’t hold an intellectual conversation.

Not that she had to worry about that with Sophia, of course. Dumb girls were Sophia’s type, and that alone made it something to be proud of. For the first time ever, Paige was truly, wholeheartedly glad of what a total ditz she was.

"That’s really cute, honestly,” Sophia told her, any predatory glint in her eyes concealed behind those dark sunglasses. “Adorable.”

Her approval was like a red rag to a bull. “When I first got my job, everyone was, like, so surprised!” Paige gushed. “I mean, me? Working in management? That was… was… um… I-I mean, that wouldn’t even make…”

A fresh wave of dizziness hit Paige as the total incongruity of her career dawned on her. It didn’t make sense. A twenty-one-year-old working in senior management was already pushing it. Only exceptional aptitude could possibly justify that. Now that she was dumb - which, of course, she’d always been - that particular thread of reality was finally snapping. It gave way, plunging Paige into another pit of uncertainty.

What was her job again?

There was only one real answer, as embarrassing as it seemed. Paige was a secretary. Not a manager. A secretary. Why had it ever seemed like she’d been anything else? Secretary work was the only kind of office job Paige could handle.

“When I first got my job,” Paige said slowly, trying to pick up the anecdote, “people joked that I might not be cut out for all that, like, reading and typing. Sometimes I kinda need help with some of the more, um, technical documents.”

It was true, she realized a moment after. Paige could now remember hearing workplace rumors about how she’d only been hired because her pink outfits really brightened up the office. She looked down. Her legs felt a little chilly all of a sudden - only, it wasn’t sudden. Paige had been wearing a cute little pink pencil skirt all day. Not pants. A pantsuit was a little much, for a secretary.

“I guess I’m kind of a bimbo,” Paige giggled self-consciously, as she joined the dots between her ditziness and her obsession with all things pink.

And she was. She really was. Maybe that was why she was so confused. Maybe that was why she kept half-remembering another Paige - a Paige that was older, and smart, and successful, and serious. But that wasn’t her. Not anymore. No, not ever. That Paige wasn’t real.

She was becoming less real by the moment, as the waves of this latest change rippled back into her past. Her high-school grades retroactively plummeted. When she’d first started transitioning, there had been more than a few sexist little jokes about being girly and pink suited her better than trying to be smart and serious and masculine. The dizziness started to recede as, more and more, Paige’s life started to make sense again. Once again, the implications went deep. Everything about Paige was malleable. The only fixed points were the things Sophia liked.

Paige wasn’t worried by that, of course.

“A real girly girl,” Paige added, as her reality settled. “You… you like that. Right?”

“You know?” Sophia mused. “Now that I’m seeing it, I’m not so sure. It’s a little, well, cliché.”

“Cliché?” Paige echoed, in a wounded voice. “Is that, like, bad?”

It certainly sounded like a reprimand, but Paige had to be sure. Already, she felt her existence becoming fluid again. The sensation was like nothing else; a dizziness, a fuzziness around her thoughts, around her memories, especially, as they blurred, ready to change.

“I suppose what I had in mind was something a little… rougher?” Sophia continued. “Punk? Is that the word I’m looking for? You know what I mean. A little bit of that blue-collar charm. Dumb, strong, rough.”

“B-blue… collar?” Paige panted. “Punk?”

The headache was like thunder inside her skull. Gale winds, too, blowing away the Paige she’d been steadily coming to terms with. There was no fighting it. At once, Paige’s head was flooded with stereotypes. Punk girls. Working-class girls. She dredged up every impression she’d ever had of them to fuel her transformation. A transformation that tore her life story to shreds.

College? Fuck no. Her family had never had a lot of money. They couldn’t afford to waste it paying tuition for a girl with rocks for brains. Paige had struggled to graduate high school, let alone get a degree. What would have been the point? You didn’t need book smarts to haul ass on a construction crew.

Right. Construction. That was where Paige worked. Suddenly, the idea of herself as a secretary seemed preposterous. Lame. Paige would take fitting joints and carrying pipes over some stuffy office any way of the week. Hers was a good, respectable, union job. Those ran in the family, didn’t they?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Paige was good at it, too. Strong. Sophia had mentioned strong, hadn’t she? Paige was sure of it. Her self-confidence was bolstered back a little. Everyone wanted a strong girl like Paige on a construction site. Even a trans girl. Oh, sure, she’d heard plenty of shitty comments about that. But Paige didn’t take them lying down. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She could stand up for herself. She was rough.

Paige smirked at Sophia. She let her legs fall apart as she slipped into her natural, girlspreading stance. For some reason, wearing a pencil skirt crossed her mind. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. That sounded so needlessly restrictive compared to her loose-fitting pink jeans. The glass in her hand wasn’t wine anymore. Beer.

“Good news, miss,” Paige said, and her accent sounded classless and coarse to her until it didn’t, because she’d always talked that way. “Looks like I’m your type, right down to a fucking T.”

Sophia giggled. Paige lapped up her approval. It felt wonderful. Being Sophia’s type was all-important. Now, though, she was used to girls giggling at her that way. What kind of lesbian didn’t love a tough, strong, working-class dyke?

“You sure are,” Sophia cooed. “You look really punk.”

Paige really did, she realized. In fact, she was a little out of place at a classy bar like this, with her studded choker, heavy boots, and her battle jacket - blue, but covered in pink patches and pins, of course. She’d always dressed that way. Ever since… when? Paige soon supplied the answer. Ever since she’d come out as trans. Her transition goals shifted again. Siouxie Sioux. Joan Jett. The goddesses of punk rock.

For a moment, the fact that Paige liked pink so much bothered her, but her warping mind soon resolved the contradiction. Pink was punk. That was now - always - Paige’s defiant battle cry every time someone questioned her punk cred. In a world that hated women and denied trans women at every turn, pink was punk.

Paige’s music taste, having lurched violently away from pop, started coarse-correcting back. She was punk, for sure, and she loved the classics, but she had to admit that pop punk was a guilty pleasure. Avril Lavigne was so hot. She really got it. Pink was punk.

"So. Anything else?” Paige asked. In this new reality, she was cockier and more confident than ever - but she couldn’t help being insecure about exactly one thing. “Or am I completely your type?”

“You know,” Sophia said slowly, looking Paige up and down as she weighed her up. “I think you’re exactly what I was feeling today. Yeah. You’re my dream girl.”

Paige grinned. Her whole body was thrumming with the delicious pleasure of affirmation. It was like a gnawing emptiness inside her had just been filled. And now she felt so good, there was only one thing on her mind.

“In that case,” Paige said, sitting forward, “how about we get out of here and I show you exactly how good I am at laying pipe?”

She laughed at her crude double entendre - by her standards, an impressively witty joke. A classy, older woman like Sophia was out of her league in at least three different ways, and Paige would hate to blow her shot by moving too fast, but this kind of bar really wasn’t her scene, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up in conversation. Besides, she knew Sophia liked her rough edges. She was Sophia’s type, and she couldn’t wait to have her moaning all over Paige’s bed.

Paige had undergone a head-splitting number of metaphysical changes throughout her date. But one thing that had remained constant throughout was that Paige was a top - and a damn good one.

But Sophia didn’t seem to agree. “Actually, maybe you’re not my type after all,” she said, with an air of particular malice.

Paige was immediately heartbroken. “W-what?” she gasped, shocked. There were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry.” Sophia didn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s just, I’m not that interested in the kind of girls who lay pipe. Bottoms are really my type.”

Paige head started throbbing dangerously again. “I…” she pleaded. “I could… I can bottom.”

And she could, Paige realized as it became true. She called herself a top, sure, but that was just part of the game. Paige could feel her orientations and preferences shifting beneath her feet.

“Really?” Sophia replied idly.

“Yeah!” Paige panted, eager to convince. “I-I love to bottom!” A secret thrill entered her voice. Oh god, she really did. It went against her vibe, her style, her demeanor - but that was part of why it felt so fucking good. “ I’m, y’know, v-… um… I’m… vers?”

It just didn’t taste right in her mouth. Paige wanted to say it - wanted to keep that part of herself within her grasp - but she soon realized why she couldn’t. Sophia had said she wasn’t interested in girls who top. Even being vers was out of the question. Paige felt a sorrowful pang as that part of herself vanished into abstraction - but then the sorrow vanished too, because this was just who she was.

A complete and total bottom.

“Are you now?” Sophia queried.

“No,” Paige admitted. She blushed and leaned in, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I just… god, if word got around, I’d never hear the end of it, OK? Big, tough Paige? But I’m… um… yeah. A bottom. Totally.”

Still the rough kind, of course. Paige wasn’t the type to go down without a fight. She needed to be overpowered. To be dominated. To be shown who was boss. A punk brat. That was her, she decided. It was a little frustrating people always mistook her for a top. What did they think all the pink was about? Couldn’t they take a hint?

Sophia giggled, and said in a teasing voice, “A punk bottom. Now that’s fun.”

Paige stiffened briefly at being mocked, before that, too, was folded into her sexuality, and she squirmed in her seat. Sophia liked bottoms, so she had to be a top, right? Paige loved getting teased by tops. It was so hot.

“It’s kinda embarrassing,” Paige offered, eager to please. “I get these subby girls coming on to me all the time, but… god, I just wouldn’t even know what to do with them in the bedroom.” Her blush deepened, but she made sure to flash Sophia a defiant look that she hoped would stoke her interest. “But… I don’t know if I believe you’re the kind of woman who knows what to do with me.”

Prove me wrong, she was begging with her eyes.

Sophia didn’t rise to the taunt. At least, not directly. “You wouldn’t know what to do with them?” she repeated curiously. “That’s pretty cute. So would you say you’re a pillow princess?”

Paige bit her lip. She could feel it inside her again. The empty, gnawing need that was the furnace of her transformations. “Would… you like it if I was a pillow princess?”

“Oh yes.” Sophia laughed at her. “Definitely. That’s my type, for sure.”

“Fuck!” Paige whimpered, as she was rewritten once more.

She was so pleased. An older woman who liked pillow princesses? Paige had hit the jackpot. She couldn’t let herself fumble this. She just needed to stop pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Bratting? Giving a top some attitude? She’d tried it once, sure. It had seemed a little more dignified, somehow. A little more like what people expected from a punk girl like her. But it hadn’t felt right. Paige was the kind of girl who blew over in a stiff breeze.

She loved the way Sophia was toying with her. Playing with her expectations. Making her change to match them. Paige could feel herself getting hard under her jeans. She’d never been so turned on. And the best part was, she could sense that she could count on Sophia to understand that just because she had a cock, it didn’t mean she was interested in using it.

“That’s better,” Sophia purred approvingly, as she watched Paige whimper and squirm. “Yes, that was just the finishing touch you needed. Now you’re perfect.”

“T-thank you,” Paige whined instinctively. God. She knew how absurd it was for a rough-and-tumble punk like her to sound so meek and submissive. She hoped Sophia was going to bully her about it. “So, um. Maybe, if you wanted, w-we could… get out of here now? Please?”

It was pitiful to beg, but Paige couldn’t help it. She was burning with need. Being around Sophia made her feel even stupider and more tongue-tied than she always was.

Sophia just stared straight at her. Paige could sense those ineffable, eldritch eyes burning behind her sunglasses. “Please what?”

Paige let out a low moan. “P-please, mistress.”

“Good girl,” Sophia told her. Paige moaned again. She could feel herself making a mess of her panties. “Very well.”

Paige shot to her feet with embarrassing eagerness. “Thank you! Um. God. Thank you. I-I’m just really excited, you know? I really got lucky here.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sophia replied kindly, as she rose to her feet. “Besides, I’m the lucky one.”

“You really think so?” Paige asked timidly.

It was hard to believe. A young, dumb punk with a construction job? Paige knew she wasn’t much of a catch for a lady like Sophia. Compared to her classy outfit, Paige’s pink, punk style and short hair were more than a little garish. And she couldn’t even top.

“Of course,” Sophia giggled, leading Paige towards the door of the bar. “How often do I get to meet a girl who’s exactly my type?”

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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#story

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morally-earl-gray · 2 months ago

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its ✨crisis time✨

sooo.... im aroace.

ive kinda known for a long time but i was in denial about it until recently (my internal thoughts are... complicated)

anyways, i want to come out to somebody, but im not sure who. i have a few options so im making a pro/con list (something i do a lot when making important decisions). yes, this is very personal but i need an outside opinion.

Option 1: lets call her Estelle (not her real name)

Pros:

younger sister

im really close to her (we tell each other almost everything)

bisexual, and i was one of the first people she told

already suspects that im aroace

Cons:

shes really pushy

shes gonna be weird about it and ask too many questions

she hasnt been as honest with me as she used to be, so im a little hesitant to open up to her

Option 2: Poppy (again, not her real name)

Pros:

shes my twin sister

we're really close

if i tell her, shes finally gonna stop asking me why i dont get crushes (and stop calling me a liar)

shes pretty understanding

she probably wont ask too many questions

she tells me everything about her life

i know she probably wont tell anyone

Cons:

shes straight (and doesnt know our other sister is bi) so she could be weird about it?

i might need to explain it to her bc shes less educated

Option 3: Clara

Pros:

lesbian, so she'll definetly understand

already knows what aroace means

we've been friend since kindergarten and we text a lot

Cons:

i know for a fact that she's not completely honest with me about her life

i dont know her as well as i thought i did :,(

basically idk... it would be kinda hard for me to be super honest with her, and i would feel weird about it

Option 4: put a PSA on my extended family group chat and then completely disappear (lock myself in my room) for like a week

Pros:

they'll all finally know

theyll stop calling me a liar when i say i dont have any crushes

i can stop feeling like im hiding something when im around them

i gotta come out sooner or later, right?

rip the band-aid off

if i come out first, my sister will probably feel more comfortable when she decides to come out

Cons:

theyre REALLY homophobic

they have extremely... old-fashioned views on stuff like families and gender roles etc

they definetly wont understand

theyll probably call me a heartless robot or smth

i'll probably end up as an outsider in my own family

they're gonna be super awkward around me

long story short: every bad thing that you could say to an aroace... thats what theyd say to me

So... if anyone has advice, i would love to hear it. this is literally eating me up inside, i really want to talk to someone but i dont know who. also (and this is a weird request) my dms are always open, if anyone's out there and wants to chat, please message me and we can work through our crisises together

#its crisis time #aroace #arospec #lgbtq #lgbtq community #coming out #send help #please help #help #need help #gay #asexual #aromantic #aromantic asexual #asexual aromantic

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ravenadottir · 2 years ago

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i started playing season 6, and i've got shit to say for the half of dozen people that are still following me in this cobweb infested blog (i apologize, i'll be explaining what's happening on a different post)

i'm only on day 2 of the season, right when it's announced that roberto is coming (which is so disappointing to me that he isn't brazilian but portuguese, like... WHEN ARE WE GETTING A GOOD BRAZILIAN CHARACTER????)

anyway, here are my thoughts:

WRITING:

i actually didn't see much of a problem with it so far. it feels on par with similar conversations we had in the past, except this time we're getting to know them a little deeper than, say, season 3.

knowing bella's family situation or roberto's is kind of refreshing because we barely learned bobby had a sister on a throwaway scene on s2, so... yeah, it's ok.

i like how they express themselves because as an litg player, i'm used to some eloquence, but as someone who sometimes watches the show i HAVE to suspend my disbelief since i know islanders from the show are just... NOT GOOD AT EXPRESSING THEMSELVES, to say the least.

i like the conversations we had so far, it felt fluid and fun, but then again i've only coupled up with jamal, because obviousoly i did, who would i go for, fucking ryan? WAKE UP.

the challenges piled up but because of how many dialogues we had in this little time i think it worked pretty well.

CHARACTERS:

grace - girl, it's been a day and ozzy is not even that hot. HAVE YOU SEEN YOURSELF? he's punching, not you. chill. (and i hate they're giving the intensity they gave hope here, feels bitterly familiar and they better fucking knock it off).

bella - FINALLY a girl i like who's available and slutty (affectionate) since the beginning. i absolutely think bella might be right there with talia when it comes to arc as an LI, but we'll see. if anyone dares stealing her or if fusebox even make the slight suggestion of a slowburn i'm burning their HQ idc

ivy - alright i see you bootleg marisol, but i don't give a shit, you're annoying, die in a hole.

amelia - i think she's putting a front and deflecting the negative attention to ivy but that's just me. also, the twist of the public choosing who she should couple up with before she could tell us is extremely dumb and unnecessary, but also a reason for her to say a different name later, maintaining her image of good sister. i don't trust her, i WILL step on her head to the finale, die in a pit you're also annoying.

jamal - i like the attention but everything with moderation gives me way more tingles than a crybaby that can't stop talking about how he wants to be with me again. we were coupled up for a few hours and only had one conversation, chill bitch. it's giving ted mosby and every himym fan knows how bad that is. i'm not sure if every guy that the public chooses to be with amelia on night 1 acts the same, but i'm slightly turned off. it's too much boy, calm down, i'm here to be a slut, calm down.

ryan - get a haircut or let it grow because looking twelve and the coolest lesbian at the same time is not the look for you. its giving hipster with a chemistry kit at the local café.. also, either you're the douchey musician or a bad poet, you can't be both, PICK A STRUGGLE.

lewie - the impersonation of being stuck in traffic. i don't care for you, die in the same hole as ivy and amelia.

ozzy - fucking pulling the noah, man. i've seen this before and i'm not interested. stop being such a coward and tell grace how you feel. i know for a fact you're gonna be drama and it's because you refuse to be honest. it's so embarrassing, bestie.

roberto - HOT. i only saw the preview but i'm excited.

PACING

it's great. i think it was kind of weird how fast and furious it was with some previous seasons (remember the last season i played was 3 and half of 4 {it was soooo tedious i gave up half way through}) but i think so far it's ok. it definitely has better cliffhangers than other times when they thought they tried their darnedest.

OBSERVATIONS WITH SCREENSHOTS:

there's no fucking way they thought these were worth diamonds. and 22 diamonds for that frufru purple shit??? it looks like something who doesn't sew would put together with a hot glue gun, stop.

ivy i might kill you like they kill one of those vampires at the end of the twilight saga, by opening your mouth so wide it cracks off your skull. SHUT - UP.

and amelia... you're irrelevant, get out.

BUDDY, YOU'RE THE MOUTHPIECE OF THE GROUP NOW, HOLY SHIT. grace has me on my knees, i can't.-

bitch, we did! i kissed you in the challenge. EXCUSE YOUR BEAUTIFUL SELF! (also, for the breasts appreciators, i feel you, boobs are great, really! but like, those... two... lines... coming out of the bikini???? yeah, that is actually what gets me. you didn't need to know but i told you anyway, because i'm happy bella is hot and cool and i don't know how to shut up when i'm love, leave me alone!) whoever designed her knew EXACTLY what they were doing.

I LOVE GRACE. I JUST DO.

i'll give ryan some cool points because 1, he burned ivy in front of everyone, and 2, he admitted and owned up to it. good for you, bestie, good luck when you take a trip to the hair salon and get rid of that... hair. also, STOP SKIPPING LEG DAY BUDDY. from the waist up it's giving "abs, hot, i go to the gym", from the waist down is giving "i'm twelve and there's a reason i go to the beach in pants".

bella and grace looking naked and glamorous but feeling threatened by this ugly ass dress is the funniest joke in the writing so far. truly. i've had mermaid costumes at 4 years of age less embarrassing than this atrocity. stop lying, bella and grace, YOU'RE BOTH NAKED AND PERFECT.

and that's what i have to say so far. i'll continue playing this season until they inevitably fuck up. i'm not being pessimistic, i'm just... well, i guess i am. but i have no reason to believe otherwise.

also, i keep forgetting ozzy is here even though it's been a day. idk why.

anyways, i'll come back with more litg brain rot in a bit.

#love island the game #litg s6 #litg bella #litg grace #litg jamal #litg lewie #litg amelia #litg ryan #litg ozzy #love island double trouble

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 years ago

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@allvalley100

Prompt: Superstition

Pairing: Hawkmetri

The rest of this AV100 prompt that I didn't have time to finish before the prompt closed XD This one is a 7-parter--700 words total! Only fitting they should get a happy ending for the last AV100 post I write for them <3

***

Day 38

Talked to Eli about his…interesting new lady friends. They’re making me miss when he was hung up on Moon, honestly.

Anyways, turns out they’re just some exiled lesbians he took pity on. Families disowned them for kissing women, growing fangs, etc etc. Last I heard, Yas is single—maybe she’d want their numbers?

Woke up with a couple (bite?) sores on my neck, so I asked Eli about his pest control situation. He says everything’s fine, but I have my doubts.

Side note: Are metal allergies possible? Had to toss that silver crucifix—damn thing gave me hives.

Day 40

Confession: I’m worried about Eli.

There was an…incident a few days ago, and I hoped if I mulled it over enough times, it’d start making sense. Wishful thinking.

Was shaving the other morning when Eli barged in. Funny, I didn’t see him coming in my shaving mirror—can those things glitch? Thought that was only Smart Mirrors™️.

He started ranting about how “mirrors are for pussies,” and threw mine out the window??? Incredibly inconsiderate.

He insisted I didn’t need to shave because I’d look hot with a beard. How do you tell if someone’s joke-flirting or actual flirting?

Day 45

Have I mentioned Eli’s weird about blood now? Unsure I like it.

Cut myself on some loose board (this castle needs renovation), and he freaked out. Wouldn’t even look at it! Wailed about “blood being too precious to waste” and ran away. Huh.

Townsperson banged on the door today, telling Eli to stop eating people. I opened to tell him that was nonsense, but I noticed he smelled...appetizing? Like a gyro wrap.

He made himself scarce before I could say anything, but…kind of hurtful, honestly. I know I’m a bit gangly, but I’m not that ugly, am I?

Day 47

Finally got a wifi signal in here! Only took 4 hours of fiddling to make Eli’s TV work.

We binged Castlevania today. Eli’s favorite character is Dracula, supposedly because he’s “such a badass and is gonna kick the asses of every one of those lame humans.” I think it has more to do with Dracula having a soft spot for a smart, good-hearted human who he goes absolutely batshit avenging, but Eli’d never admit to this.

Side note: Is it hypothetically possible for one’s reflection to gradually grow more and more translucent and dead-looking? Asking for a friend.

Day 50

Bad news: Eli ate the mailman today, and I…may have helped.

Walked in on him draining the guy’s blood, and naturally demanded an explanation. Eli said to settle down because “there’s plenty to share!” What an insane suggestion.

But since the mailman was already dead...

In my defense…best AB positive I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve had much. I’ve dabbled a couple times, but who hasn’t?

In better news: Wearing the “amnesia” down! We’ve been reading through the library together, and Eli’s instinctively remembering what kinds of fantasy and sci-fi I like. He remembers me—I FEEL it.

Day 60

Okay! Know what’s going on now.

We were reading Buffy comics when Eli clutched his head and started shrieking. Everything came back at once.

After I calmed him down, he spilled everything. Getting involved with a Kung-Fu-practicing vampiric “organization” promising nigh-unlimited badassery. Being taken to Europe, undeadified, and given a blood-only diet…none of which sharpened his memory.

Admitted I’m not inheriting a Greek estate, and I only came to find him. He tearfully told me that’s a shame. He imagined us building a life there. Maybe raising some goats?

Fuck it—if he wants, I’ll make that happen.

Day 140

Been a while! Busy, busy!

Surprisingly easy talking “distant family members” into giving us a land plot. Maybe it’s superstition. Maybe it’s healthy fear. Regardless, people don’t like saying no to weird, sharp-toothed out-of-towners.

Made Eli promise he’ll discuss with me before joining any new martial arts-related cults (especially ones that strand him in isolated castles as soon as he “isn’t evil enough”). Now he only feeds every so often! We’ve gone through some neighbors, but it’s an improvement over Transylvania.

Also, our eldest nannygoat gave birth! Eli named the kids Hellraiser, Slayer, and Wrathchild. I love them.

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old-school-butch · 8 months ago

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I know im in ur inbox a lot but i really need help, i figured i’d ask you because ur a lot older than me and u most likely have more experience. Theres this girl that i really like, she likes me too. Only problem is, shes my BEST friend, my only friend at that. Shes my only friend due to the fact that i dont go to school anymore, shes basically my everything. I really really like her, but i dont wanna ruin our friendship. I love our friendship but i also love the idea of being with her, shes perfect in every way and i dont wanna lose her. Honestly ive been losing sleep thinking about it, shes the most perfect girl ever, what do I do?

(p.s i love ur blog <3)

I can't tell if she's into you as more than a friend. If your feelings are mutual, then is there something stopping you from trying having a relationship? Sometimes relationships don't last but you can still learn a lot through the process. Hell, some friendships don't last and that's fairly normal. And a good relationship is based on friendship.

If she isn't into you though, you need to get past your feelings. It's not a great friendship if you're perpetually hurting yourself over what you can't have, and it's also not fair for her to put her friend-energy into someone who really wants something else. If this is the case, dial down your friend time together and put a huge effort into finding a girlfriend who can refocus your romantic feelings on. There are 8 billion people in the world, so that means there's more than 50 million lesbians - many lesbians are great, some of them will be happy be your girlfriend.

Now, it also sounds like you need more friendly people in your life, so don't hyperfocus on one person to meet all your social needs. It's healthy to have friendships of various intimacy levels, so work on making that happen. My observation among Gen Zs is a return to larger IRL social circles, which is a shift from the more individualistic Millenials, and I think it's healthy. Maybe we, as a society, needed a period to adjust to vast online marketplace of human engagement to remember that fewer, deeper, more consistent relationships are more meaningful than 10000 online account interactions.

One thing to remember is that everybody plays the fool sometimes. It happens to all of us, and strong feelings are just part of learning about love. You're not alone in this experience by any means.

Fellow lesbians, feel free to add your thoughts.

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thesassysegments · 23 days ago

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Im an asshat someone shoot me

ive decided fuck what others might have to say i want to love her in public. Ever since our friends party at the end of october shes been the only one i want to spend my time with. she is my person.

okay lets start from the beginning of everything. The first time anything clicked for me that i might have feelings for her was our friends sweet 16. love was in the air after the group of us tried to plot and try to make her first kiss happen with her gf of over a year, mission accomplished. after a couple of hours being overwhelmed at the party since i dont do well in the loud a small group of us walked to the gas station for redbulls. That walk there was supposed to be just us but i didnt mind the fact that others came as long as i got to spend some time with her. she looked stunning in her dress and i was too shy to tell her such. that night ended with me with a red face wearing a trench coat next to a place called snl tax.

before and after that day we had multiple projects for drama club that we worked on together but little did i know this show ive worked to get to my whole high school career, that i almost quit because the job i worked so hard for was ripped from me, this show would change my life. i only stayed working on this project for her. the week of our two competitions for this show was very stressful but we got each other through it, from crash outs to nice moments every moment i wanted to spend with her even if she was tweaking out holding a container of publix cookies. the night of the local competition we swept the board, awards in every category, but my performance in my job left me feeling like i couldve done more. i was so upset with everything i spent the whole night sobbing, she was nothing but kind to me that whole time. i felt like a dick, all of her hard work with the chorus earned them an award and i was tweaking cause i didnt get one and i felt like i was making it hard to enjoy her very much earned award. i was acting like a dick because i was upset and that wasnt fair to her.

the next day we leave for an overnight competition, we sat together on the train having a blast. she didnt feel good for most of the ride so i entertained myself while checking on her every 10-30 minutes to make sure she was comfortable. We made it to our destination of the middle of nowhere safe and sound. we were apart of the last group to go to the hotel so we just wandered around and took pictures, that was probably one of my favorite moments of the trip, i will cherish those pictures. night one of this trip the 4 of us sharing a room decide to get a little silly and invite others back in past midnight and we did, she and i shared the couch while we all watched our movie. my arm around her, we were right next to each other, faces inches apart, but i cant shes my friend, shes 15. fuck. after a while we all go to bed, my head on her shoulder and my arm around her. it was the only way i wanted to be and surprisingly she let me. shes not one for physical touch so my running bit for the trip was being over dramatic "is this okay? because if it isnt ill go _____" and then some absurd thing, getting more dramatic each time. i wanted her to know i wouldnt do anything without asking and ill stop if she wanted me to, i also just wanted to get a smile out of her. i adore her smile. the next two days had their ups and downs, she was sick, people sucked, bad news, but it wasnt as bad cause we were together until night 3.

"hey so you and her?" i freaked the fuck out, definitely more that i shouldve but what could i do? she was my friend, she was a lesbian, she had just gotten out of a relationship, shes 15. fuck. i just denied, denied, denied. its all i really could do even tho it hurt to say it was only platonic i wanted it to be more but how. i dont know. after i told her what happened and got more information her kind words are why i didnt feel worse. i never wanted to make her uncomfortable because im older than her, im her friend, im 17. shit. i felt so guilty that was the first night we spent apart. i didnt know what else to do. after that night our relationship was different, but it grew stronger, the rest of the trip we were still inseparable but all i could think about is what they all had to say, what she had to say. fucking hypocrite. luckily that asshole over shadowed the drama.

every since that trip we were attached at the hip, my love had grown for her every day i talked to her, we called, texted, talked every two seconds, wed hold hands, be arm in arm, some form of contact always. she was in my piece i had with our friend group and it gave me an official excuse to text her but i never needed one she was always happy to talk to me. the more i got to know her the more i loved her. then 3 days before another competition, i find out the work weve put in so far would get us in trouble, we had 3 days to redo our whole piece or we had to drop. wonderful. the 3 of them were amazing through out the whole process i couldnt have asked for anyone else to be a part of this. friday before the comp, one of her closest friends is at rehearsal hanging out, im super silly and cant shut up, when its just us i say outloud "two years doesnt seem to bad" fuck my secret is out. but i dont get judgement instead they teehee with me about her, how pretty she is, the moments weve had together, her perfume, god i love that perfume. she was on my side for the couple hours i kept freaking out. then its saturday, competition time. we have our piece first thing, it goes well, i have hope. but i have to finish my other piece, we were free for like 2 hours and she sat with me while i worked hard on it hearing everything i had to say, when she wasnt looking id stare at her. at this point i wouldnt have cared if she caught me she was so pretty i wanted her to know, i wouldve said it to her face if i wasnt freaking out over my piece i had to present in a couple hours. she was there with me as long as she could hearing me freak out and i just love her so much im grateful she was there.

the end of the day, scores time, i got 2 excellents, she got a superior and 2 excellents. but our piece got DQed, shit, all the work we put in felt like a waste i felt like an asshole but she was there for me regardless, i love her so much. i wanted to tell her so badly but how. after that i said fuck it lets get silly, we went to a more remote part with a friend and i made an inside joke from my teehee with her friend the day before. she heard me and wanted to know. after a bit of pestering i got the balls to tell her. "two years two months' repeated over and over till i freaked out and sat down, she passed me her phone. it was a note, "i like you but i couldnt tell you i didnt want to make you uncomfortable or ruin our friendship" i felt the exact same way. the relief on both of our faces spoke so much more than words ever could, but what now? we spent the whole showcase together talking, then back to the spot and all i could think about the whole time was the age gap and how others would react, the names id get called, what if it affected her. i didnt wanna put her in a hard spot i was so scattered but looking into her eyes calmed all of my thoughts. after the showcase we sat and talked, id just yap and shed stare at me with love in her eyes, i was so happy but i was also freaking out, "what if i just dragged her into something i have no control in possibly being able to fix" but how pretty she looked made it all go away yet again. in the middle of the field i was in awe of her beauty, i wanted to kiss her, i asked, i did. it was the happiest ive been in a long time.

days of exchanging teehees and compliments was so amazing. but still the thought lingered "after all of my denial am i an asshole for being upset with her for asking me about it or was it just the way she asked?" "do i want these people to know?" "do i let anyone know?" i ended up telling people i trust and the shock was low key funny but i felt like a dick for saying to not say anything. just because i felt scared she also had to hide it? thats not fair to anyone especially her. i didnt want people to know but i want to love her in public like how i wasnt. i want to learn from my past mistakes and from how others treated me to be a better me. then i invited her over, we spent the whole afternoon together, we went out to the bridge. I told her i think im in love and i want to be official, the sigh of relief on her face when i said those words is a look ill never forget. she loves me too and she said yes!! 12-13-24 is a day that will go down in my history books.

ive been in the best mental state ive been in since i was 11, im being treated with kindness and love. im ALLOWED to FEEL. i love her so much i feel like words cant describe it enough and trying to keep it secretive from certain people wasnt right of me to do. she deserves to be loved in public, loved out loud not only in private and i was convinced i was making her feel like she was only loved in secret which i promise was not the case. id talk to everyone i could about her im having a wonderful time with her and i wouldnt have it any other way. I hope the new year treats us well and she feels loved, i want her to know so that when she thinks of me she feels loved! i want nothing but the best for her and ill do what i can to make sure that happens

basically my intention of writing this was so she knew my inner thoughts during everything, even tho she was there. i love her and i want to love her out loud, from today moving forward i dont care who knows i just want to be happy with you without feeling like i have to hide anything. i know its gonna be a bit hard but we can get through it together.

I love you to the moon and back <3

Song of the vibe: Somethin' Stupid - The Sinatras

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beperoncin · 5 months ago

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im so mad at myself. is it even my turn to vent yet probably not but fuck the rules baby

uh. tw for me yapping about suicide and general queerphobia and bullying and shit

i keep fucking staying up until 5 am on my phone because im scared of sleeping because i might have nightmares about otherwise trivial things that irritate me because im a stupid self centered bitch whos so scared of a little bit of hate because apparently its almost like that person wants to kill me.

and staying up on my phone isn't even the thing im worried about here its the fact that im mostly on tumblr. because its the only place i feel safe. and what if my mom finds it through the apps i spend the most time on and looks at my blog and sees that i dont strictly use she/her pronouns and supports palestine and supports all queer identities and actually does kill me. or at least does something that leads to me. you know. committing chapter 8 my life ends here.

and also the fact that i stay up all night and go to sleep until 1 pm. i feel so disgusting and lazy depression probably doesnt even excuse it atp im probably just looking for comfort since nobody else can give it to me i mean others have it far worse than i do lol

and Him. dont fucking forget about Him. i had a fucking nightmare about him touching me. not even in anywhere intimate just on my head. just the idea of him making any form of physical contact with me is fucking repulsive. im absolutely terrified to go back to school because what if hes planning things to do to hurt me. what if he has more friends to harm me. what if he hurts Her because Shes one of the only people who trusts me. he didnt even do that much he just made me extremely uncomfortable

literally the only four things keeping me from killing myself are my online friends and the spicy cookies from the hit korean mobile game franchise known as cookie run (specifically only peperoncino and habanero and capsaicin and the other scovillia cookies but my prove is still pointen) and the haha funny wario game released for the nintendo wii on july 24 2008 and the one girl from my school i have an extremely obsessive crush on and if she Finds Out™ then 3/4 of those things (or all 4 if she's sick enough to keep me out of school to "protect me further from the gay agenda") are gonna be taken away from me and. quick question to my mom. do you want a dead child? no? then get your shit together and stop making baseless threats against me for having human decency.

"why do you hide everything from me????????? 🥺🥺🥺" well if you never made those threats to me because i reacted in an almost justified way when you were being hateful about trans people i would have felt more comfortable telling you things. and dont even try and say "but i support the gays too!!!!!!! but not the mutilation psychos!!!!!!" youd probably tell someone to stop shoving it in their faces if you saw even a little tiny lesbian flag pin on their jacket. and stop using psycho for every person you ever so slightly have beef with. its getting annoying and not everyone who thinks trans people should have basic rights has a psychotic disorder. thank you <3

i wouldve been more hopeful about everything if my parents didnt have fucking fox news on every evening and not one not two but THREE FUCKING PRO TRUMP SHITSTUFF in their front yard. these fuckers never learn. i hope blue wins this year so i can see them wail and bitch about their stupid little fascist orange losing. but again thats just one of the dumb little trivial things that frustrate me beyond my limits. i find it funny how i pretend im just. not interested in anything political but. does a backflip

my fucking god can someone just fucking euthanize me. wait not even that. just fucking torture me and keep me alive. like do some wild shit. make the devil shiver even more than he would when a nice guy loses his temper.

i know im overreacting. i know im just making shit up like the self centered pile of flesh i am. but im so mad right now im beyond livid i might blast glittertown in my earbuds again to at least dull the rage

#hee hee hee haw

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recappers-delight · 4 years ago

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I AM INFURIATED!!!!

But not for the reasons you think.

How many of you watched the She-Ra panel tonight? ACTUALLY WATCHED IT?! Because I did and here's what I saw:

1. "_____ called someone the D slur"

He DID NOT call anyone that word. He used it in the context of announcing a panelist to the show. The word is IN THE TITLE of her podcast. He was literally just stating the title. That's it.

2. "Noelle said Double Trouble would be creepy around kids."

What Noelle said was that to get the inspiration for Flutterina, Double Trouble would have gone to a coffee shop, found a girl to imitate, and stare at her until they got her mannerisms down. Because of the implications here irt trans people and the stereotypes of "creeping on children", this could have been worded better. BUT this whole headcanon was in response to Noelle DEFENDING Double Trouble against the rest of the crew thinking they straight up murdered the real Flutterina. And again, problematic because of larger implications, but on the show Double Trouble IS A VILLAIN. Just because we think they're awesome doesn't mean they're not capable of shady shit. I saw very few people having a problem with this before. Other things they said about DT?

They specifically searched for a non-binary trans activist to voice the role.

Double Trouble was the whole cast's favorite character.

Everyone had a crush on them.

They support DT x Peekablue headcanon and think they should date.

3. "Noelle said Entrapta and Hordak are great representation."

Literally just did not say this. This comment was made by a fan writing in. A fan who, by the way, IS DISABLED THEMSELVES, and was writing in to thank the crew for the rep THEY saw in these characters. Noelle didn't agree or disagree at all. She goes on to give a character analysis about them both, and that's it.

4. "They made Bow's brothers slaves."

No. They didn't. It's a crew inside joke that all of Bow's brother's have pun names that rhyme with "Bow". The brother in question came from one of the other male creators making the joke "which one of Bow's brothers tills the field? Sow." Here's a pic from Noelle about the rest of the brothers.

Because of the complicated history between black people and "farm work" it's best to not make any joke at all like this. It was tasteless and misguided, but hardly a reason to grab pitchforks. Black people have the phrase "whites gonna white" for a REASON. We know there's no such thing as an unproblematic person. Creator or otherwise. Is it still wrong? Yes. Should people strive to do and be better? Absolutely. Should allies listen when POC talk about things that make us uncomfortable, and support us when WE call it out? Please, for the love of God!!! But I do not think the level of backlash the crew-ra is getting is at all warranted.

I understand I do not speak for all black people or lesbians, and I don't speak for ANY of those other groups mentioned and possibly offended, because I am not one of them. However, I felt the need to speak for myself. I am SO SICK of everyone knee-jerk reacting to every little thing that could possibly offend someone. Noelle is not perfect, but she has done a SHIT TON of work for representation and the progression of normalizing queer, inclusive stories to younger audiences. She also went to bat for a diverse cast of characters to be voiced by a diverse cast of VA.

The truly fucked up thing? There was a question someone wrote in about how a cis, straight, white person can respectfully tell the stories of underrepresented and marginalized communities. Noelle then goes on for 5 minutes about how it's difficult, and how it's more important to hold doors open for creators who actually come from those communities to be able to have their own voices heard. And this is the woman you throw flames at? Ridiculous. Our true enemies are able to so easily conquer us, because we so easily divide ourselves.

No one owes allegiance to any one fandom or creator. But we have got to start picking our battles more carefully. If we don't, people will become desensitized to our cries when REAL threats and offenses happen. And white people? PLEASE stop being so outraged at every little "off-color" remark someone makes YOU think might offend ME. I appreciate you wanting to be an ally, but you are drowning out our voices over things that really matter. That's why we get shit like musicians and sports teams changing their "racially insensitive" names, while police are STILL killing unarmed black peple in the streets without repercussions. It shouldn't be an either/or thing, but it often is, so please focus your attention on "canceling" THAT.

TL;DR: Don't just retweet and reblog everything you see without doing your own research and forming your own opinion. Speak out against bigotry, but understand when it's time attack, and when it's time to educate. Stop holding people on so high a pedestal they have no room to grow, and can only fall. Do not speak for, or louder, than the people you say you are standing up for. We can speak for ourselves. Help amplify our voices; DO NOT BECOME OUR VOICES. And finally, because we really do just have so much bigger fish to fry:

#i said what i said #she ra #she-ra #she ra panel #noelle stevenson #double trouble #entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #wlw #spop

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its-deputy-caleb · 4 years ago

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Hi! I hope you’re doing well, I really love your writing and I recently tried to come out to my family but it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I was wondering if you could do the four lords’ reactions to reader coming out as lesbian (it doesn’t have to be lesbian specific if you don’t want to) If you don’t feel comfortable writing this it’s totally fine, no pressure at all. And thank you for all of your work it really helps me just relax sometimes 😘

Hii, I’m so glad that my writing is able to make you feel happy! It honestly makes my day!! I’m so happy to write this for you and I feel so honoured to write this, I apologise that it’s late I wanted to write it sooner.

I’m sorry that all this has happened to you and if you ever need anything I will always be here for a listen if you need <3 just message x I also wrote this from some person experiences since I am bi and have also had bad experiences so this is just to make everyone feel loved and included!

Alcina Dimitrescu

You’re sitting on the lounge of one of the various sitting areas in Castle Dimitrescu, having tea with the Lady of the house one cold evening.

You were both enjoying each other’s company, having grown very fond of Alcina and her daughters. You’d become something like an aunt to the girls and Alcina had accepted you into her house with open arms.

The Lady Dimitrescu was currently speaking about another “man-thing” she had hidden in the dungeon when you told her about your own feelings towards women.

Your heart is practically beating in your throat as the nerves make you feel nauseous, anxiously awaiting a reaction from the Lady Dimitrescu. Your palms shaking slightly as she stopped speaking to glance at you.

Tears well in your eyes as you wonder if you’ve made a mistake, instantly going to apologise.

She takes two large steps towards you, kneeling down and takes your much smaller hands in her own. Her thumb moves in gentle circles along your knuckles as she soothes you.

“My darling, please do not cry… You’re too beautiful in your youth to be sad. Just know you will always be loved here in my castle both by my daughters and myself. No harm will come to you, I promise; I will protect you always.”

She brings her hand up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek, holding your chin up so you can look at her. Everything about her presence is calming and loving in that moment.

“All that matters in this world is your happiness, my darling, don’t let anybody take it away from you.”

She places a soft kiss to the back of your hand and uses it to bring you into a tight hug. Her arms wrap around you tightly and she holds you close, almost protecting you from the outside world.

“Come now; if you’re to be staying with us, you’ll be needing your own formal room. Besides if you stay with us you’ll find that you and I are not so different.”

You look up at her with wide eyes as she gives you a large smile and scoops you up in her arms. It’s there that she carries you to your new chambers just down the hall from her own and you continue to stay with the Lady Dimitrescu.

Each day and night she reminds you just how much you’re loved by her and her family, making sure you know just how much she cares for you no matter who you are.

Donna Beneviento

You’re standing on the porch with Donna, over looking the waterfall which her house sits next to. You notice Angie is not with her and she’s in lighter clothes than her usual layers which she wears to visit Mother Miranda.

It’s one thing you’re very happy about is Donna’s comfort around you. You two are very close and you’re the only person she feels like she can be herself even without her dolls. To her, you’re someone that makes her feel normal and safe in this crazy and chaotic world.

Much like Donna, you’ve kept to yourself, often hiding how you really feel inside but she’s someone who you’ve grown to trust with your life and who care for very deeply about.

That’s why you feel ready to finally tell her about your own feelings and who you are. Yet it doesn’t make it any less nerve racking, your friendship with Donna means everything to you and you don’t want to lose her.

She notices the way you tense up, how you focus more on the water falling to distract yourself, fiddling with your hands at the same time.

Donna leans over and rests her head on your shoulder which you relax into and place your head on hers as her arm wraps around you reassuringly.

“Angie and I still love you. No matter what, you’re still the only one who likes us. Just because you feel a certain way doesn’t change that.”

Donna’s hand squeezes every so often against your arm, a reminder that she means what she says. Her touch keeping you warm out in the cold as her words warm your heart.

Salvatore Moreau

You and Moreau have always found comfort in each other. The two of you feeling rejected by everyone in society, just wishing that someone would give you the opportunity to get to know you both better. To see the real you.

That’s what you were, inseparable and each other’s second chance to be yourselves. You were all you two had, telling each other everything and sticking by each other.

Hidden away in his reservoir was your own little world where no one could judge either of you and you could be yourselves.

That’s why with your hand in his, squeezing tightly, you decided to come out to him.

His hand squeezes back and matches your strength as he smiles at you, proud that you were able to say it.

“You’re my best friend, you know? And I will never view you any differently because you like girls, you’re braver than I could ever wish to be.”

Salvatore is captured by your ability to be yourself, especially around him. He feels honoured that you trust him with everything, even something as daunting as coming out and he makes you feel validated and respected all the time.

You’re something of a role model to him and the two of you work through all your troubles together, always relying on each other for support.

You never once had to face anything alone, no matter how hard it was for you to come out to everyone else, Salvatore was always there for you and was by your side.

Karl Heisenberg

You and Karl had an interesting friendship, something akin to the term “chalk and cheese”. He was the wild and crazy engineer, always tinkering in his workshops, working tirelessly for his revenge on Mother Miranda while you were the gentle and sweet soul who was once a member of the village.

No matter of your differences, you were both the only one you had left. You truly cared about each other. Although you both weren’t always great at saying it, you each had your moments.

After Karl told you about his childhood, the experiments he endured and the Cadou implant you both agreed to tell each other everything and he honest. Promising to be there for each other.

That’s why you knew you could come out to him and tell you how you felt deep down.

He instantly drops the hot piece of metal he was welding to draw his attention to you. Leaning in and listening to you as you told him all of what you had been hiding.

At the end of it you’re exhausted, teary eyed and in need of a hug which he gladly provides, practically crushing you as he holds you close.

“Hey now, you’re not broken like I am, there’s nothing wrong with who you are. Fuck what anyone has to say, if they want to hurt you I won’t let them okay? If they’ve got a problem with who you love they’re gonna have to deal with me. I mean it, if anyone gives you shit they’ll be fed to the lycans!”

You laugh at his little speech and he smiles when he sees you happy. Although apart of you knows he’s very serious and cares about you enough to rip anyone’s throat out for hurting you.

Karl Heisenberg was the last person you’d expect to find a friend in and yet he’d stop at nothing to make you feel loved and safe in his home.

i love all of you <3

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil village #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil #RE8 #asks #prompt

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

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yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

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thedeadhandofseldon · 3 years ago

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The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

#unprepared casters #bombyx mori #haley whipjack #long post #this is really rough but I don't have time to keep working on it and it's already a month later than intended

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

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this heavy humanness

Summary: Spencer leaves the oven on overnight, and Derek - whose pent-up emotions get the best of him - loses it, exposing secrets neither of them expected to be spilled, for two very different reasons. They get there in the end.

or; Spencer's suffered far too much abuse in his life and Derek knew about none of it. He shouldn't have found out like this.

Tags: est. rel., past abuse, arguing & making up, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, hurt spencer TW: implied/referenced - child abuse, abuse & csa. trauma response that could be perceived as dissociation. misplaced frustration at neurodivergence. nothing graphic but message me for more info if needed.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills the "Domestic Violence" square of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. It's a heavy one folks so please heed the tags, but fear not, as always we have a happy ending ahead of us! <3 Title by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Spencer knows it’s ridiculous. Derek will not hurt him: this much he knows for certain. Derek is safe, he is home, he is his person. Derek would die before laying a hand on him.

This objective knowledge does not stop the fear from building in his chest, fizzling through his veins until his whole body is alight with it, simmering under the surface of his cold skin as Derek shouts, his face contorted in anger. Spencer might know that Derek won’t hurt him, but that doesn’t mean he can forget what’s happened in the past when he’s put that same expression on crueller people’s faces.

“How could you be so irresponsible, Spencer?”

He doesn’t know. The sinking feeling of failure, of disappointing someone he loves so much settles deep in his stomach as he watches Derek pace up and down the living room while he stays firmly planted on the sofa, pressed as far into the corner as he can.

He didn’t mean to leave the oven on overnight. Again. It’s just that sometimes he gets so lost in his head, in the studies he reads just before bed that getting ready for bed happens on auto-pilot, and small things like turning the oven off slip through the cracks. Derek’s never got this angry over it before, but that’s probably because he’s never said “yes” when Derek’s sleepily asked him if he remembered to turn it off, not when he actually didn’t.

He answered on auto-pilot. He didn’t mean to lie, but that doesn’t seem to matter that much to Derek as he wears down the living room carpet with his pacing, visibly seething. He tracks him with his eyes. He can’t afford to not see the blow coming.

The blow isn’t coming, he tries to tell himself. It’s not all that convincing when Derek stops mid-pace, turning to look at him dead in the eye.

“We could’ve died, Spencer! Does that mean nothing to you?”

Spencer doesn’t reply. He wants to, he really does, but the words are stuck in his throat, choked by fear and confusion and emotion and regret, God why didn’t I turn off the oven, I should’ve been better, it’s all my fault—

“Do you seriously not have anything to say?”

Spencer stares. He has so much to say. All of it is trapped in his throat, tangled in a mess of please don’t leave me and please god don’t hit me.

“You know, I can’t deal with this right now,” Derek mutters, throwing his hands up in the air, “this is unbelievable.” Spencer watches as he shrugs a coat over his shoulders, pulls on his shoes, pauses only to grab his wallet and keys, and walks out the door without looking back.

The door slams behind him and Spencer jumps at the loud noise, jolting out of his fear-ridden stupor, wincing as he’s forced out of his head and thrust back into reality. It’s only ten past ten in the morning; a nice, sunny Saturday in late Spring, and maybe in a different universe, Spencer and Derek are packing a wicker basket with a picnic, heading off to their favourite park to feed each other strawberries and enjoy jam-filled sandwiches.

In this universe, though, Spencer drags his heavy bones to the bathroom, and peels off his clothes. He feels weighed down, tied to some point of gravity far below his feet as he avoids the mirror at all costs and lets his pajamas lay where they fall instead of gathering them into a ball and throwing them into the hamper like he usually does. He turns the water on and steps under the spray, allowing himself to revel in the warm rivulets of water caressing his cold skin.

Shampoo bottles stand untouched in the caddy to his left. He’s not there to get clean, he’s there to forget and to think all at the same time. Slowly, he sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall as the water cascades down his front, but not before he turns the heat up. It’s a small comfort: the water just on the right side of too hot running down his face and his torso and his legs, pooling at his feet momentarily before sliding down the drain, never to be seen by him again.

Today shouldn’t have started like this, and it’s a hard pill to swallow that if he hadn’t left the oven on, it wouldn’t have. Derek would have smiled when Spencer stepped into the kitchen, pulled him into his arms and kissed him gently before making them pancakes while Spencer sat on the counter-top and told him everything running through his head. Derek would listen, enthralled, whether to the sound of Spencer’s voice or the words he’s saying, and he wouldn’t shut him up, not even when they sat down to eat.

They’d finally get ready for the day late in the morning, they’d decide what they would do that day, and they’d make a point to steal as many kisses as they could; making up for the affection lost during long cases.

Spencer knows this because it’s happened so many times before. They may have only been dating for just over six months, but they already live together, having fallen hard and fast; Emily teases them for it, calls them her favourite lesbian couple, and they don’t care because they’re in love.

Despite that, though, Spencer still hasn’t told Derek.

There are nights he lies awake pondering how unfair that is. He’s held Derek as he sobbed over memories of Buford, as he spilled every awful detail of the abuse he endured; he’s comforted him after he’d tried and failed to bottom, falling into a flashback every time, no matter how much he wanted to try it.

But Spencer stays silent. He doesn’t tell him about his dad beating him, or his mom getting confused off her meds and smacking him, shoving him, even punching him that one time. He doesn’t tell him about Matthew, his first real boyfriend, trapping him in an abusive relationship that took him months to get the courage to leave. About how when a third person hurt him, he began to wonder whether it really was his fault. Whether that was the only kind of love Spencer Reid deserved.

He stays silent now, staring at the shower wall. The fear has left him now the threat has too, and a cold type of numbness replaces it, and even once the water runs cold, he doesn’t leave. He traces the same four tiles with his eyes, drawing the same pattern with his gaze over and over again as his thoughts turn to an endless cycle of he’ll leave me, he’ll stay, he’ll hit me, he won’t, until he’s not really sure what he believes.

Derek is a good man, but Spencer knows how he can be. He messes up, he forgets things, he doesn’t read situations right, he doesn’t behave the way people think he should, he doesn’t think like a neuro-typical person does. And a good man can only put up with that for so long.

The proof is in the pudding, after all. Derek has always been understanding of things like this in the past. He’s given him a hug and told him not to worry about it, that mistakes happen, and no one can be expected to remember small things like this all the time. But this morning, he was furious. Spencer’s not sure he’s ever seen him so angry in all his years of knowing him, and it was directed at him. All because of an oven left on.

Eventually, a sound from the upstairs apartment drags him from his head again, and he’s suddenly aware of the cold water, of the way his body is trembling and his fingers are pruning. He pulls himself out of the shower, turning the water off, but he stands in the middle of the bathroom, aimlessly, for a long time. By the time he finally has the sense to wrap a towel around his body, he’s basically dripped dry. His hair is soaking wet and the dripping water is freezing, but he doesn’t have the energy to find a towel for his head, too, so he leaves it.

He walks towards the bedroom and climbs into bed, pulling the fluffy duvet over his damp skin and laying his wet hair on the pillow. It feels awful, being wet and damp under the dry bedding, but he doesn’t have the energy to move, so he stays there, towel still wrapped around his legs, hair still soaking the pillow, and he stares at the wall.

He doesn’t know what time it is, and he doesn’t know when Derek will come back home. If he ever will.

⭐️

Derek slams the door behind him as he storms out of the apartment, rage consuming his every move, his every thought. The force of it rattles the door frame, echoing down the empty corridor, but he can’t find it in him to care as he marches towards the elevator. The buttons are pressed with perhaps a little more aggression than socially acceptable, but the woman already on board takes one look at his face and has the sense to stay quiet.

He gets in his car and steps on the gas, the squeal of his tyres against the floor of the garage as he speeds out satisfying him more than it probably should. His jaw is locked and tight as he drives through the streets of DC, his thoughts going a million miles an hour, quieted only when he turns the radio up loud, a blasting soundtrack to his ferocious getaway.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he speeds down the highway, heading out of the city towards Baltimore. He doesn’t have a destination in mind: he’s just driving straight. Straight away from the apartment. Away from Spencer.

It’s after more than an hour of driving that his jaw finally loosens and the anger that had simmered in his blood so fiercely fades into reluctant rationality. He’s somewhere in the middle of Baltimore, and the traffic — the tangled road system he actually has to focus on — drags him from the absent headspace the highway had allowed him to slip into.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and turns off the road he’s on, onto a quieter one. As soon as he’s able to pull over, he does, and he hits the steering wheel angrily. “Fuck!” He leans forward, pulling off his sunglasses and burying his head in his hands. It’s not the same kind of anger he’d felt earlier, no. This time it’s directed purely at himself, fuelled by dismal regret.

Before he can stop it, his brain replays the fight with Spencer over and over, the wall he’d put up to block it out crumbling down as images of his boyfriend flood his mind. He hadn’t registered it in the moment, but looking back, God. There was something on Spencer’s face, something so broken, so scared and he feels nauseous at the realisation that he put that there.

Over something as fucking stupid as an oven.

Truthfully, he wasn’t really angry at Spencer. Waking up to see the oven left on again, even after Spencer promised he’d turned it off, was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He’d fought with both his mom and Penelope yesterday, and he went to bed feeling like an utter failure, made even worse when Spencer had declined to join him, deciding instead to keep reading the series of papers he’d started earlier that evening. He woke up in a foul mood, and not even the sight of his peacefully sleeping boyfriend could make him feel better.

It’s his own fault. He should have communicated with Spencer: he should’ve told him about letting his mom down and saying the worst thing he possibly could have in his conversation with Penelope, but he didn’t. He silently stewed, and felt irrationally angry that Spencer wasn’t reading his mind. He knows for an absolute fact that if he’d asked Spencer to join him in bed last night, he would’ve dropped his studies immediately, and cuddled him until he felt better.

But he didn’t. And then he’d screamed at Spencer, in a way he never has before, over something he simply forgot to do. Derek swore to himself that he would never shout at or put Spencer down for his neurodivergent traits. Not in the way he’s seen so many people — regrettably, far too many of them on their own team — do before.

He’s always been understanding in the past, kissed Spencer’s hair and promised that it wasn’t a big deal, and he has always meant it. Because as dramatic as he’d been this morning, leaving the oven on wasn’t really the end of the world. He remembers ranting about the electricity bill, about how they were going to afford the house they were going to buy if he kept this up, about lying to him — even though he knew that was clearly an auto-pilot thing — about how dangerous it was. It’s a fan oven. They were never really in any danger.

What a god-awful way to let off the steam he’d built up and chosen not to let go.

As if he’s not already feeling shitty enough, though, his mind won’t stop circling back to the fear on Spencer’s face. The way he shouted back, but instead crammed himself into the corner of the sofa, never taking his eyes off him as he paced angrily back and forth.

He feels sick.

He digs his phone from the pocket in his sweatpants. He’s still in the clothes he sleepily pulled on in the dark this morning, and he hadn’t thought to bring his phone out with him, but luckily he’d picked it up off the kitchen counter that morning.

He clicks on Spencer’s name, listens to it ringing out as he desperately begs him to pick up. “Come on, baby, please,” he whispers, ignoring the tears burning behind his eyes. “Pick up, please.” He tries three more times before throwing it angrily on the seat next to him, allowing one more second of feeling the blind panic and the fury at himself before forcing himself to calm down.

Reaching over to his phone with one hand to turn the ringer up, he turns the ignition on and pulls back onto the road, heading back towards DC.

The traffic infuriates him, cursing as it takes thirty minutes to get back on the highway, but finally he’s back on the open road. It takes everything in him not to speed past the other cars, knowing that getting pulled over would only slow him down in the long run. He doesn’t turn the radio on. He just replays the fight again and again, each time remembering something new: something he said or something Spencer did.

He doesn’t wipe the tears away as they fall, lets them slide uncomfortably down his neck, under his collar, lets them drip into his lap, lets his nose run. It’s the only punishment he can afford himself right now.

Finally, finally, he pulls into their apartment building’s garage, finding their spot and parking roughly, abandoning the car as quickly as possible in favour of sprinting towards the elevator. He curses at the slow moving carriage, but it eventually spits him out on his floor, and he’s walking down the very corridor he stormed down just a few hours prior.

He pushes open the door to their apartment, closing it behind him softly. Suddenly, the nausea swimming in his gut isn’t just borne from regret, now fuelled by nerves and dreaded anticipation.

“Spence?” he calls softly.

He doesn’t know what to expect: he doesn’t know whether Spencer will be sad or angry, whether he’ll be screaming or crying. The kitchen and living room are empty, and the bathroom door is wide open, so he ventures into their bedroom.

Whatever he was expecting, it isn’t this.

Spencer’s tucked up in bed, duvet pulled up to his neck, facing away from the door. He doesn’t move so Derek thinks he might be sleeping, but when he circles the bed to check, he finds his eyes wide open, staring vacantly at a fixed point on the wall. They don’t flicker or blink or move when he steps into his field of vision, and Derek’s heart sinks, panic beginning to grip his chest.

“Spencer? Baby?”

When he still doesn’t move, Derek crawls onto the bed, and the movement or the sound or something must finally catch his attention, because all of a sudden his eyes are widening — in shock, surprise, fear, Derek doesn’t know — and he’s shifting under the covers.

“You’re back,” he says, and it’s so uneasy that Derek wants to cry.

“Yeah, baby, I’m back,” he says gently, “and I’m so sorry about earlier, I—”

He cuts himself off, because when he reaches to tangle his fingers in Spencer’s damp hair, he flinches. His hand freezes, but his stomach twists, because this is the confirmation he was both expecting and dreading. This is the confirmation of everything he prayed he had wrong, everything he wished he’d misinterpreted the whole drive home.

“Spence,” he whispers brokenly, withdrawing his hand, “I would never— never do… I’d never hurt you, God, I—”

A choked sob cuts him off this time, and another follows when he sees a tear sliding down Spencer’s face. A previously blank, emotionless canvas, his face is now full of sadness, tinged with the fear and guilt Derek hates himself for even suggesting was warranted in the first place.

“Derek,” he says softly, and his voice is so mangled with emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher, it breaks his heart a little. He doesn’t say anything more though, eyes sliding shut instead as tears continue to stream down his face.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. “Anything, I— anything you need, you can have, Spence, I’d give you the world, you know that.”

Spencer’s quiet for a long time, and Derek sits there on the bed anxiously awaiting a response while trying to summon all the patience he doesn’t have as he stares at Spencer’s crying face.

“A hug,” he decides eventually, and Derek almost collapses in relief because, God, he can do that.

He crosses the small space between them, and carefully folds Spencer into a hug, sighing in relief as he melts into Derek’s side, placing his head on his chest and cuddling into him. Their legs tangle together and Derek holds him as gently and as closely as he can, carding his fingers through Spencer’s damp curls while his other hand rests on his waist, his thumb caressing the bare skin there.

He’s still in his towel, he thinks sadly. He didn’t have the energy to properly dry himself before crawling into bed. As if Derek could possibly feel shittier.

They lay like that quietly for a while before Spencer finally speaks. Derek wishes he hadn’t. The words “I’m sorry”, uttered so brokenly, so miserably, have no business leaving Spencer’s mouth.

“Baby, you have nothing to apologise for,” he says fiercely. “This is all on me. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been, Spencer, because this is completely my fault. I wasn’t actually angry at you, that’s the first thing you need to know, and I know that makes what I did so shitty, because you hadn’t even done anything wrong, but I was so pent up and frustrated with myself and I didn’t communicate that with you and— fuck, I’m doing such a bad job of explaining, I just. I need you to know, Spencer, that I’m not angry, okay? And I’m so sorry for losing it like I did, that never should have happened.”

He pauses and takes a breath in, burying his face in Spencer’s hair as he holds him even tighter, trying to keep his grip as gentle as possible.

“I never told you,” Spencer whispers after a couple beats pass.

Derek’s heart seizes tightly and he swallows. Prepares himself. “Never told me what, sweetheart?”

“My dad, he… he wasn’t a good man and he… you know, he hurt me a lot. And then my mom, when he left and she stopped taking her meds completely, she’d get so confused,” Spencer admits, voice so quiet as he murmurs into Derek’s chest that he has to strain to hear him. “She didn’t mean to, but she’d… And then my last boyfriend, he—”

He cuts himself off as a heaving sob that seems to come out of nowhere strangles his words and it’s all Derek can do to hold him tightly as Spencer cries, whispering every reassurance he can think of through his own tears. It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks. I shouldn’t know this just because of an argument we had; just because I lost control. Spencer should’ve been able to tell me on his own terms, in his own time.

He tries to cry as silently as possible, but it’s not easy when the grief of knowing the pain Spencer’s suffered in his life is weighing heavy on his chest, and the acidic taste of guilt abounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Spencer’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s sorry for so many things he’s not sure he could list them all out, neatly and coherently, if he tried.

Spencer fists his hands in the soft cotton of Derek’s t-shirt. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

Derek balks at the guilt in his tone, as if he actually believes he has anything to apologise for. “Baby, you could’ve waited until we were old and grey to tell me and I wouldn’t be mad, okay? Trauma like this… it comes out in it’s own way in it’s own time. I’m not sure how or when I would’ve told you about Buford if everyone hadn’t found out the way they did. And if I’d waited to tell you, you wouldn’t be mad at me, would you?”

Spencer shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry that I triggered you the way I did, Spencer,” Derek says seriously, gently twirling a loose curl around his fingers. “It was inexcusable, and it was a problem of my own making. I know you didn’t mean to leave the oven on and I know you were operating on auto-pilot when you told me you turned it off last night, and nothing I said was true. I was mad about stuff that happened yesterday and I failed to communicate that. It’s all on me. Nothing about this is your fault, you hear me?”

“Really?”

The way Spencer cranes his neck to look up at him, the trusting innocence in his eyes both breaking and warming Derek’s heart. “Really.”

“I want to tell you, Der, it’s just—” He sighs. “I’ve never talked about it with anyone, and it’s hard. I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

“We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, baby. You can tell me everything all at once, or drop tiny pieces of information when you feel like it, or never tell me anything else ever again, and any of that is perfectly okay. I just need you to know that what happened this morning will never happen again, okay? I promise you.”

Spencer shifts, moving from his position curled around Derek to prop himself up with one arm, facing his boyfriend properly. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, before leaning down to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. More than anything.” He kisses him again before moving the duvet and making to get up. “Now, how about I order us some pizza for lunch and we spend the afternoon in bed. You can read or we can watch some documentaries or a movie, whatever you want.”

A small smile crosses Spencer’s face, and nothing’s ever felt more like a win.

“I think that sounds like a plan.”

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @moreidtrash @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @enbyspencer @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #criminal minds #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #cm #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #moreid fic #moreid angst #tw domestic violence #tw abuse #tw csa mention #moreid fluff

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captnjacksparrow · 4 years ago

Text

Why do I ship SNS?

It is a known fact that when people experience a good media, they like to discuss various things they liked, hated, interpret what the creator trying to say and get something from what they have consumed. Eventually people end up in a shipping war if there are multiple possibilities.

I started watching Naruto on a whim, hoping to see some ninjas in action with some revenge as a background (after all when you have power, there will always be a revenge). Am a sucker for revenge, btw. I am a person who hates romance in media. Because, every movie, book, novel, series has this same recycled romance plastered into every story even though the story don’t need at all. So, I am very tired of it. Every media portrays romance as something inevitable, necessary and something we can’t live without. That’s wrong.

Usually, romance goes like this... Person A sees Person B... they hate each other and add some possessiveness, jealousy... they magically gets attracted through some shared experiences eventually... they kiss and make babies. There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s just very tiring as I’ve seen million forms of this same repeated trope. I always cringe and yell “Can you give us something different? Grrr.....”.

And also, my motto is that love can happen with any person. It can’t be restrained into certain boundaries. So, I don’t like to put some relationship under an umbrella called Gay, Lesbian, Straight or whatever. Of course, illicit relationships and incest are not normal and am not okay with it.

With all that being said...

My experience after watching the Shippuden series until episode 478 was “Wait, do they love each other?”. I know am very late to realize this, but I have never even viewed them with any romantic lens throughout.

On my first watch, I was always under the impression that “They are friends”... But there are certain moments I felt “Wait, why are they doing like this which could’ve been handled in a different way!!” I will get to this later in this post. But those moments were overlooked by me because of my curiosity of “What happens next ??”.

And on my rewatch, it only confirmed my view.

The other popular ships like SS and NH put forth many points to invalidate what SNS represents. The most common being “They are reincarnated brothers” or “They are best friends”. Am just going to debunk them from my point of view.

Naruto and Sasuke are like brothers.....

Nope.

The best brotherhood title, in this series, should officially go to Itachi and Sasuke.

You can argue as much as you want that Itachi mindfucked Sasuke and killed his parents....yaada yaada....

It is repeatedly shown why Itachi put a curtain on his own clan. The reason is, Uchiha clan decided to forcefully take over the village. No matter how much innocent you are, you cannot take over something with force. Dot. I will write about this in a separate post.

In short, Sasuke realised how his clan members were wrong after hearing the story from the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju. That’s why he openly proclaimed “I am going to protect Konoha and become Hokage”.

Back to the topic, Itachi and Sasuke are blood brothers. If I ship them both, then what you claim is very valid.

The above gif says, “Sasuke, I know, I made a mistake by filling you with hatred. But whatever you decide to do from now on, I will love you always”. Meaning, He stopped treating Sasuke as a kid and accepts that Sasuke has his own path to walk.

This is exactly how brothers behave. I would do the same to my kid sister. You can see a fraternal instinct from Itachi’s eyes realizing that this is their last time together.

Another thing, Brothers trope always has this hierarchy.... Protect the younger sibling no matter what. It is evident from Madara/Izuna and Hashirama/Tobirama.

Not convinced?

If you pull the Indra and Ashura bullshit, let me tell you one thing. Indra and Ashura were separated and formed their own clan long ago. They eventually branched off into Uchiha and Senju clans. No way you can relate a century old blood relation as brothers. It’s just their chakra got reincarnated over and over.

Don’t pull up an incest angle between Naruto and Sasuke. Because they never shared a womb. Dot.

Naruto and Sasuke are Best Friends only.

You know what, you are almost right. I thought that for a very long time. Remember I never wore any shipping goggles ON.

There are two types of best friend categories. Best Friends without a reason and Best Friends through rivalry.

Best Friends without a reason in Narutoverse are: Shikamaru/Choji.

They just became friends and became BFF. They won’t fight or hurt each other. But when you have something to share...you would go to that person and share everything honestly.

Best Friends through Rivalry: Kakashi/Obito, Hashirama/Madara, Naruto/Sasuke

I really cannot provide more proof for the first two pairings as Best Friends as it is not the scope of this post. Although the latter two also qualifies for shipping category. Why?

Because, the common thing among them is that all the three Uchihas awakened/reawakened their Sharingan for their best friend. But Hashirama/Madara and Naruto/Sasuke are the only pairings to awaken or evolve Sharingan when trying to break their bonds with each other.

Special Brownie points for Madara. He had 4 brothers and lost 3 but still couldn’t awaken his Sharingan but when trying to break up with Hashirama, his eyes were brimming red.

Sasuke’s Sharingan matures in the first Valley of The End.

That’s why I excluded Hashirama/Madara and Naruto/Sasuke from this Best Friends list.

Because to the both Uchihas, the other person meant something special which cannot be comprehended into a mere term called ‘Best Friends’.

Which is exactly why Kakashi/Obito would perfectly fall into this category.

The way they quarrel, fight with each other, protect each other are perfect scores for a friendship. What makes them best friends is when Obito decided to give his Sharingan despite Kakashi was always putting a cold air around him and most importantly asked him to protect his love ‘Rin’. Also Kakashi carried his friend’s will to his heart and passed on to Team 7.

It all falls under ‘In the memory of my Best Friend’ trope.

Obito may be a trash but he is a good friend. Because after Rin was killed, he massacred everyone around him except for Kakashi. He could have killed him. Understandable. Or he could have plucked his Sharingan back (because he literally plucked most of the Sharingans from the Uchiha clan massacre and kept those eyes as a reserve). This could have enabled him to use Susanoo. I believe Susanoo can only be used with Mangekyo Sharingan in both eyes. But for some reason, he didn’t.

So what makes me think Naruto and Sasuke love each other, not as a brother and not as a friend but something beyond which I can’t term?

My way of shipping is not about marriage, sex and rearing babies. Because literally everyone does this as an obligation.

So, I don’t ship them in terms of living together in my headcanon and having sex daily. Nope. But it is not wrong though if you ship in that sense.

In this Narutoverse, Women are just some stow away pieces whose sole existence is to fawn over their dreamboy and cry for them. (Usually literally nothing useful comes out of them). Me being a girl, as much as I hate this setup but I have come to terms with whatever it is and have accepted it. If you are a girl looking for a strong female character...... this is not the place. Watch something else.

But I draw inspiration from male characters who are characterized deeply for which I have to applaud the creator. Reason being, the very first character which I connected with was Itachi. It was when Sasuke thinks about his past with his family in the flashback before the first VotE battle in part I. I will be writing a separate post about Itachi in this week.

In short, If you are a person who wants inspiration, draw it from male characters. Not in a single moment, you stoop so low for characters like Hinata and Sakura. That’s not how I envision myself or any woman. Dot.

With all this being said, I ship them as a couple who necessarily don’t have to get married or have sex... But they each other has some special allowance towards each other in their hearts which no one can touch, not even their wives or children.

This doesn’t mean I accept what came after episode 478 as they are literally something they made for $$$$$.

There are some basic traits which are absolutely necessary for a ship to sail successfully. They are Acknowledgement, Reason, No Hierarchy, Influence, Owning each others rights and Privilege. (All these reasons should come from both the sides for the ship to be worthy)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Acknowledgement, I mean here, is to accept and acknowledge what they are to each other.

They both agree that they are Bonded/Friends verbally as well as emotionally.

To me, this is essential in any relationship especially for the ones you are trying to ship. I didn’t see this in any other ships like SS or NH where it is always one sided. Sakura confessed before the village entrance to which Sasuke said “You really are annoying!!”. Hinata proposed in Pain arc. Naruto didn’t even acknowledge her confession. He went on to beg for pardon for Sasuke. Again she proposed in the War at the expense of Love Cupid “Neji”. Naruto went on to joke with Minato that Sakura is his Girl Friend.

If I were in both of these girls place, I would literally be mad and drop this shit right away.

Wheras in SNS, I saw both the people I am trying to ship were asking “What am I to you?”, to which they reply “You are my friend”. To me this is very important.

Reason

To those who are saying “Love is blind”, “Love is Madness”, “Love needs no reason”, you all need self-evaluation. This is not some K Drama situation where you don’t need any reason. You should know why you love someone and why you need the other’s presence.

Naruto’s reason is very simple.

I could provide many reasons. But here, Sasuke, without any reservations... knowing full well of the consequence if he feed Naruto but still extended the helping hand to someone who was always hostile. It is just like what Iruka did. And many incidents which happened during Land of the Waves arc are evident.

He wanted to be friends with this lonely Uchiha boy way back when he was around 7 or 8 for a simple reason that he understands his pain more than anyone. But he really became friends when they were grouped together for Team 7.

Sasuke’s reason goes even way beyond when Naruto series started.

“Because he felt relief”.

Imagine a young boy who witnessed a massacre before his eyes and lost everyone he loved. But somehow another young boy of his age made him feel relieved. This explains why Sasuke went all out of his way to make friendship with Naruto despite being aloof.

Isn’t this what we want from someone we love?

Rather than being completely insensitive about an orphan life or just stalking from the distance and never offered any support, I would prefer someone who understands my pain from their heart and try to reach me. Sasuke reached out to him by offering the lunch and Naruto reached out to him by making him his rival and bug him.

NO HIERARCHY

This is pretty self-explanatory. Unlike blood brothers, there should be no hierarchy in a relationship I want to ship.

We saw Naruto yells at Sasuke many times absolutely for no reason, despite Sasuke bearing this cold attitude. Probably he is the only person who can call him by such variety of names.

Sasuke always calls him by his trademark ‘Usuratonkachi’. Sometimes he calls him fool just like everyone. But was never insulting or mean towards Naruto. Except for that time in the final battle, he made fun of his Shadow Clone jutsu citing his loneliness.

In short, be it a physical fight or verbal offense.... neither of them wilts like a flower. They equally give back.

The only other person who can verbally assault Sasuke is Karin and probably the only girl who never addresses him as “Sasuke-Kun”.

U-SU-RA-TON-KA-CHI..... Why do Sasuke spend such an effort to call someone with a 6 syllabic word, instead NA-RU-TO, a 3 syllabic word which is way more convenient to call?? I always wonder.

POSITIVE INFLUENCE

I don’t have to spell out anything here. There are many obvious examples but will try to keep it short.

Naruto became strong because of Sasuke. He trained hard for 3 years with Jiraiya , a month with Kakashi developing Rasen Shuriken and controlled Kurama’s power with Killer Bee. Except for Sage Mode jutsu everything he learnt was all for bringing Sasuke back.

In short, Sasuke is Naruto’s predominant strength.

Though Naruto was not the source of strength for Sasuke, but he brings out many vibrant emotions in Sasuke which he really needed for his traumatic mind otherwise he would always be that cold angry brooding doll without any emotions and I am sure Sasuke enjoys to banter with Naruto.

LOL!!! I don’t know why Sasuke feels competitve here. It’s pretty childish even for Sasuke.

Friendly tease :-) I think he also protected Sakura in this scene. He can also ask her the same, isn’t it? I mean as a friend.

The best one is yet to come

It’s incredibly hilarious to see how Sasuke pouts when he was with Naruto. Sakura!!!! You third wheeling joker :-D :-D

Throughout Shippuden, Sasuke never shows his emotions with anyone. He either looks very cold or angry.

Reminiscing his Team 7 days, for a split second.

Probably the only positive emotion is this, in all of the Shippuden. I mean not counting Episode 478.

I don’t think Sakura brought any kind emotions in Sasuke except annoyance when they were together in Team 7. Or Hinata too. These girls just moan “Sasuke-Kun”, “Naruto-Kun” but brings nothing to the table. Total wastrels!!!!!

OWNING EACH OTHER’S RIGHTS

This section is exactly where SNS moves on to a whole different level.

Sasuke wanted to inflict his pain over everyone who lives in peaceful Konoha for what it did to Itachi. (though I don’t really accept with Sasuke here since he never even bothered to question about his clan’s history, but what he was doing is understandable. Just like Naruto tells him).

But the context here is Sasuke is on a murder rampage. Starting from the Kage Summit, killing Danzo, unnecessarily hurting Karin and almost reached a point where he could not be stopped anymore. Then Ms.Annoying appears. She literally have no fucking clue what Sasuke is going through. So started to spout nonsense that she wanted to go with Sasuke-Kun with an ulterior motive to kill him without a strong resolve.

The interesting SS dynamics here is Sasuke asks Sakura “Do you know what I want?” and to which she gives a carefree-shitty-pathetic answer “I don’t care. I will do whatever you want”. Geez!!!

If I were Sasuke, I would think, “This person standing before me don’t even care about what I want but coming with an intent to kill me and not only that... she is a kunoichi from Konoha where I planned to inflict my pain by slaughtering them.. I better ram my Chidori and be done with it”... He doesn’t see her as his former Teammate. He just want to kill that person.

However, Kakashi deflects the attack and saves Ms.Useless.

( Me : I am a Sasuke fan through and through. But, Sakura..... You always says you will do this, do that.... But you never succeed at anything... Why is that? Why are you even continue being a ninja? No one asked you to kill Sasuke, you decided to. But why don’t you kill him. Probably you would’ve earned my begrudging respect... Pffft” ****sighs with a heavy second hand embarassment)

Anyways, Sasuke becomes an unstoppable maniac at this point because he was very irritated on seeing Kakashi and Sakura spouting some unreachable nonsense. So he started to attack Kakashi as he is even more irritated on seeing his Sharingan.

Again, Ms.Idiot wants to kill Sasuke when he is at his weakest point due to chakra exhaustion and that too from behind his back. (You!!! Gutless wrench). Sasuke sensed this and attempted to kill her again... (Naruto!!! You idiot. Why did you save her...)

However, Naruto appears and saves her. Naruto and Sasuke’s eyes meet each other.

But somehow Sasuke calmed down and hears out Naruto for what he has to say. He says, “Whatever you are doing until now, it’s understandable”.

Kakashi wanted to kill him and Sasuke got riled up and prepare his Chidori. Anyways, Naruto intervenes and they go to some meta physical plane and talks privately. And Naruto comes up with his idea and announces as below:

Me: Naruto!!!! Sweety..... Do you realize that you have a big dream of becoming a Hokage which you have been shouting from Day 1? But still you want to overthrow everything for that one person who is in unbearable pain. It’s alright. But you don’t want to go alone or send him alone. No Best friend would go this far. And to those Sakura shippers.... Why didn’t Sakura try to bear the burden? Why didn’t she come up with this Idea? Afterall, you spout nonsense like ‘Sakura saved Sasuke from Darkness, isn’t it?’ And, Naruto.... Who gave you the right to take his hatred and shoulder the burden? And what makes you think you are that only person to do it??? Sasuke, might have other special person in those 3 years. How can you decide on Sasuke’s behalf??? Aren’t you going overboard ?

The answer to all the above is simple, Naruto can risk anything for Sasuke. And he clearly knew that Sasuke’s only living bond is him.

And what happened next was almost unbelievable and for the first time I thought ‘What is it with these two guys?’.

Sasuke agrees with Naruto’s proposition to not destroy Konoha before fighting with Naruto.

Me: Sasuke!!!! You have every right to reject his proposition. Since, he was not in your life for the past 3 years, your side of bond with Naruto should have been cut-off long back, right? Sasuke??? Well, at this point he was just your former Team 7 member. You don’t need to honor your proposition. You can attack Konoha anytime. Why did you accept?

Also Me: Sweety!!! Why do you always question Naruto ‘Who am I to you’? Why do you need his opinion always? There is an annoying princess standing behind Naruto vying for your attention. And yet you didn’t even ask her this question at any time. But before Naruto, you completely calmed down from your rampage and willing to wait for what he has to say plus asking for his validation. After all you don’t care about anything, why just Naruto???

And the reason being, Naruto is still his closest bond which he couldn’t cut off despite trying very hard. After all, Many years ago, Sasuke was the one, who readily jumped in to protect Naruto knowing full well that it’s a trap. He was ready to throw away his revenge for this boy back then. Sasuke is afraid that he will give in to this bond once more and Naruto is his weakness which he wants to eliminate so badly.

This is definitely not any Best Friend would do..... Fix that in your mind.

The purpose of these GIFs is not show how protective Sasuke is..... Well, I can talk about it all day. Let’s save it.

Me: Yo!!!! Sasuke..... You wanted to kill Naruto.... You said so yourself under the bridge. Meaning, He is the only person standing between your goal and your resolve and Naruto is always known to weaken your resolve. And yet why are you protecting him here? There is absolutely no need. Because, if there is a situation like Kaguya where both of you are must needed to save this world , then there is a reason to save him. But why now? Plus do you know, if Naruto dies, then Madara’s plan may not succeed because if a Jinchuriki dies, tailed beast also dies. It is perfect for your Revolution, isn’t it? Who gave you the right to own his life? Obito has his reason to kill Naruto, why not let him?Why is it that you want to personally remove him from your life? If he is dead by an external factor, you can carry on your path without any interference and pain. Why go so far to protect him ?

The answer is Sasuke values Naruto’s life more than his own even during his Team 7 days. He has this high esteem for Naruto and almost consider it to be a shame if some worthless fool takes his life. And Sasuke never hated Naruto. He once hated Itachi and his resolve to kill was real and intense. But when Orochimaru asked him to kill 1000 people for practice, Sasuke never killed anyone. He even implemented no kill policy for his team “Hebi”. So, someone like Sasuke who never liked to kill random innocent people, how could he let some trash take away a life, he considers dearly to the same level of Itachi? That’s why in this situation, his body moved on his own to protect something special for him. He may not agree it, but he always shows it.

But some other ship wankers try to say Sasuke may have said “You are annoying” but inside he deeply loved her which is why he was smiling. If so, Why didn’t Sasuke never showed his care not even once? He not only tried to kill her twice when she was defenseless but also let her die twice or didn’t bother at all during the war. Or show me where these soul level connection happened between SS or NH

In short, Sasuke and Naruto own each other’s rights unconsciously. Because they are the only ones who can understand each other’s soul which nobody can reach.

Me: Oh, by the way Sasuke, I think Susanoo should be used like this. You really don’t need your hand to protect Naruto. Susanoo can do it’s work for you. Minato would be proud though!!!!

PRIVILEGE

Most of the points I written above are in and of itself is a privilege they give for each other and not for anyone else. Privilege is essential in a ship. Because it shows how different a loved one is from normal people.

For Naruto,

I originally want to put how he begs for forgiveness on Sasuke’s behalf before Raikage and weeps immeasurably before hyperventilating. But this one trumps the other. Naruto literally broadcasted everyone how important Sasuke is to him and how he regretted not offering his friendship at that time and how he couldn’t stop Sasuke from reaching Orochimaru.

If you want to inspire Alliance shinobi forces, you should have shown how you worked so hard from the bottom to top. Projecting Sasuke as your regret and inspiring people shows how deeply you prioritize this person which affects you after so many years and hence, you don’t want any more regrets.

It’s very unconventionally romantic which passes the shipping category in flying colours.

For Sasuke,

The following is the Land of the waves arc which was novelized in the name of Innocent Heart, Demonic Blood released in 2006. 99.9% of the material is exactly as it happens in Manga/Anime.

This is the privilege Sasuke provides for Naruto. “ But coming from Sasuke, It almost counted as a hug”...

BROWNIE POINTS:

Now, the following are the scenes which add a mysterious flavour to this ship. I sincerely don’t understand why Kishimoto put this. I mean I am absolutely happy with it, but why? What was he thinking while drawing these scenes?

It’s also strange that, whenever they clash a Chidori with Rasengan..... They always gets repelled to their own sides and fall with a loud thump. But Naruto’s posture looks very perfect, I mean it looks like someone carried him and laid him down. Anyways, What’s Sasuke doing on Naruto’s side?? He should have fell on the opposite side. Why didn’t he walk away? There is absolutely no reason for Sasuke to come over to Naruto’s side and have an intense meaningful gaze.

This is another mysterious plus intense scene. I am still wondering, Is this really Sasuke? He is a person who avoids casual touches with anyone other than his brother. I’ve seen so many times Sasuke rejecting hugs from Sakura. I can’t even imagine what Kishimoto was thinking.

If you people pass these scenes off as Brotherhood or Best Friend chemistry... Then you lack basic human emotions. That’s all.

Me: Well, Sasuke, If you really want to kill him, you should have shovelled your sword right through Naruto’s vital point when you made that exuberant landing. There is literally no need for you to draw a long sword in close quarters. And what about the Personal Space??? With your speed, you can land without leaning on Naruto’s shoulders...

Also Me: Yo, Naruto... You were panicking when Sai does the same....but you don’t even flinch when Sasuke invades your personal space????

Anyways, it’s funny that both the intense scenes I have mentioned here were initiated by Sasuke. Quite strange and thrilling.

So, to conclude.... All these scenes I have mentioned made me unconsciously ship them as a pair. With all these being said, I believe all the ingredients for a good romance were laid perfectly. A moment of impulsive tension or affection, say a hug, between them after a difficult battle could mess with both and make a romance happen. And I don’t think either of them will deny especially Sasuke.

I don’t see any of this aspect in other popular ships such as SS and NH. If I am Sakura or Hinata in this universe, I will not be okay with my pair doing all these things with other person. I intentionally left scenes from Episode 478 as it is so intense and require a separate post. I am happy that even without Episode 478, SNS ship sails high. So, I believe both Sakura and Hinata are still fourth wheeling their respective pairs in Boruto universe also, I guess.

P.S: I don’t watch Boruto

Final memento:

No way a friend will look this mesmerized on seeing the other one.

#narusasu #sasunaru #sns #naruto #sasuke #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #itachi #kakashi #obito #anti sakura #anti hinata #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina

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