#gays stay winning in the most absurd of ways

[bleeding-seraphic]

Welcome to the incredibly unwholesome wholesome couple show

[drabbles-mc]

This is giving me MC vibes, the guys running around, essentially playing verbal gay chicken, trying to come up with the most absurd compliments trying to make each other blush. Who has the best? Who fumbles them every time? Who’s kinda genuine? Who blushes the most? Who threatens to suck someone’s dick if they get another compliment?

God. The shenanigans are STRONG.

I was thinking so heavily about this and then life put me ina chokehold. But I am back. And I am here to talk about it. 😌

Tig has the best compliments. No contest. Not even a debate. That man has no shame and he will win any game of chicken that he gets roped into. And, honestly, good for him. 😂 I can also picture him being the one who makes the dick-sucking threat and I feel like the guys wouldn't know if he's being sarcastic or not. Spoiler alert! Tig doesn't know if he is either.

Juice is blushing. Any time anyone says anything to him that boy turns into a tomato. Love that for him. He tries to pay compliments for the sake of the game but he always messes it up because he gets nervous. He'll stammer and then avoid eye contact and bail like halfway through whatever he was about to say (and then kicks himself for it later because he means it but he just can't fucking say it). He's been living in a constant state of cardiac arrest since the whole game started.

The way I'm picturing Happy not necessarily giving a lot of compliments, or even giving ones that are all that wild or crazy. But the times he says anything complimentary to anyone it puts them back on their heels because he's usually just not like that. So often his version of complimenting someone is just not insulting them or not threatening them. So when he actually gives real compliments everyone is just 🤯

Jax tries to play it off like he finds it funny and like it's all one big joke but I just know that he's eating that shit up. I know it! I know it. He does that stupid (affectionate) little smirk and shakes his head but the second he turns around he's trying not to lose his fucking cool about it. Will threaten to suck someone's dick "as a joke" to try and get people off his case and it doesn't work and he pretends to be upset about it but he's not.

I picture Opie trying to stay on the outskirts of it all and then someone says something absolutely absurd to him and he nearly chokes on his beer. From that moment on he's not quite an active participant in the shenanigans but he doesn't hate the compliments, either.

For the Mayans boys??? I feel like Coco is very much in the same league as Tig in terms of giving compliments. Like we know that Coco doesn't shy away from the comments and the banter. We see that when they're all at the doc after Creep gets shot. And we also see the way that everybody jumps the fuck on board the second he gets it all going. He's just that good.

Gilly is all about it. I won't be convinced otherwise. The man was military like I just know that he'll say fuckin' anything to get a rise out of someone and I love that for him. He's not good at receiving compliments and the game of chicken is going to break him of that habit so fast. No one threatens to suck dick more than him. I can feel it in my bones lmao.

I feel like Angel is hesitant at first because he doesn't wanna make himself look like a fool. (Joke's on him, it's too late for that 😂) But once he realizes everybody is about it, he's into it. I think that he is the one who blushes the easiest and gets squirmy about it. It's the self esteem issues in him. He fumbles a lot, but when he actually gets his act together and delivers the line, he does it well.

Oh. EZ. My Ezekiel. People should know better than to underestimate him. Just because he's not loud like his brother and some of the other guys doesn't mean that he isn't all about shit like this. If these boys didn't have praise kinks coming into this, they will once EZ is done with them. I just know it.

The way I don't necessarily picture Hank throwing out a lot of ridiculous compliments, but the second that anyone says anything to him he instantly gets bashful. Suddenly the fucking sergeant at arms can't make eye contact with anyone because they're saying nice things to him.

I will be thinking about all of these boys being ridiculous for the foreseeable future. I owe you my life. 😌

[sokka-with-his-hair-down]

Cabin Leader Zukka AU

Credit to @im-a-sokka-for-you, @waywarddork, @king-bumi-for-president, @sokkaseboyhair, and @crying-at-ikea for helping out with this monstrosity of a post!! Stupid Squad™ ily ❤️

This is long af but I promise it’s worth it 🥺🥺

Sokka and Zuko are rival cabin leaders at a summer camp

The camp has sort of a 4-elements theme because I say so

Eight Cabins. Two Water-Themed, two Fire Themed, two Earth-Themed, and Two Air-Themed.

Sokka leads the Southern Water Cabin. Yue the Northern. Aang leads one of the Air Cabins, and Suki leads an Earth Cabin. Zuko and Ty Lee lead the Fire Cabins. (Ty Lee shamelessly flirts with the assistant camp director, Mai...)

Sokka and Zuko’s cabins, along with all the other cabins, are competing in the yearly camp competition. There are different challenges, like water balloon fights (water), mud runs (earth), zip lining (air), and s’more roasting (fire).

Zuko’s cabin wins most years, and Sokka’s like “not this year. This year WE take the trophy” and he’s got his heart set on it.

Sokka thinks Zuko’s obnoxious. He sees him as hot-headed and snippy and arrogant. And he’s almost militaristic with his cabin kids. (And yet they love him. Even more annoying.)

Sokka wants to be the ✨fun cabin✨, he usually does, but he starts pushing harder to advance to the next round of the competition and win.

Sokka and Zuko have multiple confrontations. They’re snarky and sarcastic “good luck out there😈” kind of things (which Sokka HATES)

The two cabins pull pranks on each other all the time. Very Parent-Trap-esque. Sokka and Zuko plan a lot of them, but that doesn’t stop the kids from doing a few on their own (I imagine some very lovable OC campers).

Sokka wakes up with a shaving-cream beard more than once.

Zuko wakes up wearing makeup once...

Then, as the story unfolds with whatever subplots a writer may put in, Sokka catches more and more glimpses of Zuko acting more human... and hey... Zuko’s sort of sweet when he’s like that...

No. This is a competition. Zuko bad. Winning good.

Sokka confides in Aang and Yue one night after a staff meeting.

“You don’t understand, guys! He’s—he’s infuriating! He’s good at everything, and the kids all like him, and I know I’m supposed to hate the guy but I don’t anymore! And I don’t know why! And part of me feels like he deserves to win every damn time even thought it’s ridiculous that he does-”

“Sokka.”

Aang looks at him almost sympathetically. Sokka tilts his head in confusion.

“Have you considered that maybe you just have a little crush on him?”

“WHAT?!”

“...”

“Oh. Shit.”

Anyway Sokka has a bit of an awakening and is like “OH NO I LIKE ZUKO I’M SUPPOSED TO HATE ZUKO.”

After panicking about that for way too long, Sokka winds up telling Suki about this revelation and Suki is like:

“Well... I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I think Zuko’s had a crush on you for years.”

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

Suki sort of awkwardly admits that she’s picked up on it. She and Zuko are friends (something Sokka could never fathom why but he left it be) and she tells Sokka how Zuko talks about him... an absurd amount. And how Zuko, on more than one occasion, has accidentally called Sokka cute.

(i.e “just because he’s Mr. Cute and Friendly doesn’t mean he can walk around like he owns the place!” “You think he’s cute?” “What? Uh-”)

Leading up to the final face off where Zuko and Sokka’s cabins will compete against each other, Sokka leaves his campers with Suki for a few minutes and approaches Zuko’s cabin one night and asks to speak with him. Alone.

There’s a unanimous “oooooooooooh!” from the campers.

The two step outside, and Sokka’s freaking out, but he’s gonna do it anyway.

He’s really awkward about it and keeps beating around the bush.

“Just get to the point, Sokka!!”

“Um. Do you like me?”

That. Was not what he meant to say.

In all honesty, Sokka meant to say that he likes Zuko, and THEN ask him if he liked him back, but he panicked, give the guy a break.

Zuko’s face goes completely blank.

“Wait, what?”

Sokka, now suddenly convinced he and Suki were wrong, chickens out and bolts, Zuko calling after him. (He can’t chase him because he can’t leave his campers unattended.)

Sokka freaks out silently as he leads his campers back to his cabin for the night.

He doesn’t get much sleep.

Day of the big competition. The campers are getting ready for the final showdown. Zuko’s team is a few points ahead of Sokka’s, but not ahead by many.

Sokka avoids Zuko all morning. Aang, Yue, and Suki are worried about him but he brushes it off, saying it’s no biggie (it is).

Right before the first challenge he overhears one of his campers talking to someone from Zuko’s cabin. The kid from the opposing cabin says “Zuko was in a bad mood last night. He didn’t wanna tell us why, though.”

Oh no. It’s worse than he thought. Zuko is angry at sokka. More than usual.

The games begin. Both teams tally up points after each round of whatever they’re doing (three-legged race, canoeing, etc).

The final score is kept secret—the camp director (accompanied by Mai<3) says the final score will be announced that night at the campfire.

Sokka makes sure he doesn’t run into any scar-faced boys on the way to his cabin. Or at dinner. Or on his way to the campfire.

Everyone is gathered around outside, fire blazing, hot-cocoa and s’mores present. Sokka doesn’t even care about winning anymore. In fact, he hopes Zuko wins, so he doesnt get any more angry.

But

The Southern Water Cabin wins.

Sokka’s campers jump up and scream with excitement. And though he isn’t feeling quite himself, he still offers hugs and high fives and congratulates them all on their hard work.

Then, suddenly, while kids are mingling and cheering, Sokka feels a tap on his shoulder and spins around.

Zuko.

“Hi.”

Sokka can’t find words to say. He just stares. Is... is Zuko gonna yell at him?

“Good job.” Zuko’s holding out his hand for Sokka to shake. Sokka does so, hesitantly.

“Uh... thanks.”

After a moment too long, they end the handshake. There’s a beat of awkward silence and Sokka’s heart is racing.

“Look,” Sokka begins. “About last night. I-”

“Don’t. Me first.” Zuko looks really uncomfortable, but he still keeps talking. “You were right.”

“Huh?”

“I like you. I have liked you, I mean. For a long time. Like, three years.”

Sokka’s dumbfounded. “I thought you hated me.”

Zuko sort of nervously admits that he’s not very good with people (and that he takes great enjoyment in riling people up). And he apologizes like:

“Sorry I was a dick. Me being a fucking gay idiot who can’t ask people out doesn’t excuse me being mean. So I’m sorry.”

Sokka’s sort of touched by all of this. Zuko apologized for being an ass and he has a crush on Sokka?

Sokka figures he should apologize too, since he was pretty much just as mean to Zuko as Zuko was to him. “I’m sorry, too.”

Eventually, the stilted conversation gets sort of quiet and even more awkward, and Sokka realizes he still hasn’t confessed. And, well, better late than never.

“I like you, too.”

“Huh?”

“I like you. As in. Like. I have a crush. On you. So there.”

Zuko has no idea how to react, but eventually a giant grin makes its way into his face and it looks beautiful in the firelight and he just sort of goes:

“Um... do you wanna get coffee or tea with me? Or something? Now?”

“You mean the shitty camp coffee and tea?” Sokka quips.

“Hot Cocoa it is.”

They walk up to the kitchen building and hang out at the counter and actually get to know each other for the first time in years. And Sokka thinks that becoming a cabin leader is the best decision he’s ever made.

(They may or may not have kissed sometime during the rest of their stay. A couple of times. A lot of times. Okay, they made out in the pantry a ton, but that’s nobody’s business but theirs.)

If anyone wants to write this, lemme know!! And again thank you Stupid Squad™ <3 @chaoticidiott @appa-bottom-jeans @soft-zuko you’re also Stupid Squad™ so this is your child as well now. Enjoy.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Fake dating au where demetris on his third strike with the school counselor so when they're about to fight again he holds his hand instead. Hawk cant help but blush and counselor Blatt jumps to conclusions and tries to be overly accepting

PFFFFT okay this is fuckin great

Like I’m just imagining Demetri doing the PETTIEST bullshit to get back at Hawk for that destroying-his-science-project business, like he writes “COBRA KAI SUCKS” all over his locker in sharpie in cleverly-disguised handwriting or pours soda on Hawk’s karate equipment and tough dude sportsballs (because come ON--Eli’s had the same locker combination for years, and just because he’s badass now doesn’t mean it would occur to him to change it) or steals his portable hair gel so that the ‘hawk will be sad and sagging by 6th period, and as soon as Hawk catches on to what’s going on, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out who’s behind all this chicanery. And he fuckin goes RIGHT up to Demetri during the next passing period (he knows exactly what part of the school that little nerd is in because he figured out and memorized Demetri’s class schedule SOLELY for harassment purposes and not because he likes him or anything) like “BRO YOU WANNA GO YOU WANNA FUCKIN GO” and Demetri gets ready to fight like “COME AT ME ASSHOLE” and Demetri’s getting ready to throw the world’s meanest punch to start the brawl (because his douchebag ex-best-friend ain’t the only one who can strike first) when the accursed Counselor Blatt rounds the corner.

She turns and fixes an icy glare right on them, and Demetri has to think fast. He unclenches his fist mid-punch and wraps a hand around Eli’s wrist. Eli’s hand flexes out in surprise, and before he can react, Demetri’s fingers have found their way up his wrist and laced with his own. Hawk’s face goes redder than his (already, sadly, beginning to sag) mohawk.

And fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hawk was absolutely not prepared for this. He absolutely was not prepared for the same goddamn helpless sensation of vertigo to hit as that time he held Demetri’s hand during Red Rover in the 6th grade (how in the hell did a couple of losers like them get invited to play, anyways? The teacher probably made the other kids include them or something). And Hawk fucking hates how warm and pleasant Demetri’s hand feels in his own, and how it fills him with the same hopeless longing that he hoped he could punch away into oblivion as soon as Kreese started training him.

But here comes that stupid-ass counselor, and something tells him that now is not the time to yank his hand away and slam Demetri into the lockers behind them, no matter how much he would like to.

“Demetri? Eli?” Counselor Blatt looks back and forth between the two of them, perplexed. “What’s this?”

“What’s what, Counselor Blatt?” Demetri pulls Hawk closer and swings his other arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders. Hawk can only bristle in barely-concealed rage.

“Did I just...see you about to punch Eli?” she continues. “When you’ve been to our seminar on respectful alternatives to physical aggression?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand!” Demetri laughs, and Hawk wants to smack him. God, his laugh is annoying. He’s annoying. Hawk wants to scream into a wall and he’s not sure why.

“I was just in a hurry to hold my boyfriend’s hand,” he goes on gleefully. “I haven’t seen him all day! Is that okay with you, Counselor Blatt?” He gives the counselor a challenging stare, and Hawk almost feels sorry for the woman and how utterly lost she is.

“I thought you were upset with Mr. Moskowitz here for ruining your science project,” Counselor Blatt says slowly.

“Oh, that?” Demetri snorts. “We were just on a little break. I think that was my indication that good ol’ Eli wasn’t taking it too well. But we worked everything out, and it’s alllll good now!”

He gives the counselor his most winning grin, and Hawk just turns to gape at him. Out of all the absurd directions Demetri could’ve taken this thing, framing him throwing a soccer ball across the cafeteria to smash Demetri’s project as a couple’s fight was one Hawk had not seen coming.

But then again...that did kind of let him off the hook, didn’t it? If all of his messing with Demetri was nothing but silly relationship drama. After all, Counselor Blatt hadn’t lifted a finger when the utter spectacle that was Kyler and Sam LaRusso’s breakup had ravaged the school’s gossip chain.

“You know, you really should be more accepting of LGBT relationships,” Hawk says, making a point to pull out the kicked puppy expression. “It’s hurtful enough that my boyfriend and I get as many stares as we do from other students.”

“I...! Well! I mean!” Counselor Blatt splutters, looking everywhere but their eyes. “I think it’s great you boys are able to...express yourselves so freely! I want this school to be an environment where students of all sexualities are able to be themselves. I’m so happy West Valley High is such a diverse place!” She smiles, brightly but still very confused.

“With all due respect, Counselor Blatt, we’re not just some token gay couple.” Hawk doesn’t let up on the puppy dog eyes. “We’re just two guys who love each other. That’s all. All we want is to be accepted for who we are.”

He feels Demetri stiffen beside him with surprise, but the grip on his hand and around his shoulder doesn’t loosen in the slightest.

Demetri’s really acting like he doesn’t want to let go. He’s really committing to this façade.

Makes sense. When they were in middle school, Demetri always tried to be the class clown--not that it ever worked. Eli would always cheer him up by insisting he had a natural talent for improv. The kid isn’t half bad at acting, he’ll admit.

“And...you are accepted!” Counselor Blatt reassures awkwardly. “I’m...sorry I misunderstood your relationship, boys. I should be better about checking my heterosexual privilege.”

“Not to worry!” Demetri says cheerily. “Anyone who works at being a good ally to the community is always appreciated!”

Hawk resists the urge to roll his eyes. What was this, a fucking gay Sesame Street episode?

“Sorry again, Demetri. Eli. Have a nice day.”

As soon as Counselor Blatt shuffles around the corner and out-of-sight, Hawk tears his hand away (as...reluctant as he admittedly is to do so. Feeling another hand curled around his made him feel calmer and safer than he had in months, no matter what utter pussy’s it was. Disgusting. Kreese would never train him again if he found out, that was for sure.). He shoves Demetri hard--not into the lockers, not in any way that’ll make a noise to be noticed, but enough to knock the wind out of that fucking runt.

“What the fuck was that?” Hawk snarls.

Demetri crosses his arms and glowers at him. “I just saved both of us from a month of detention. It was only so long before she figured out Cobra Kai’s the aggressor around here just as much as Miyagi-Do is.”

Hawk surges forward and tries to shove him again, but Demetri is ready this time and quickly blocks. “What the hell was your grand plan, anyways?” he scoffs. “Pick a fight with me in the middle of the school day?”

Demetri sighs, starting to back away. “Eli, Eli, Eli. I know you’ve got a good brain in there, buddy. Maybe start using it, if all the punches to the head haven’t messed it up too much.”

He taps his head a couple times before turning and disappearing into the throng of students around them. Hawk groans.

Mitch doesn’t make matters better as they walk away. “Dude, were you blushing?”

“Shut the fuck up, man! I was just fucking embarrassed!”

Bert sniggers. “I’ll say. Should I start planning the wedding?”

“Don’t make me fucking deck you! Look...he wanted to stay out of trouble, and I realized I could spin it to our advantage. So I did. We’re in the clear for now.”

“Yeah, only took a bit of...hand-to-hand combat,” Mitch snickers. “What’s next? Judo wrestling him in the janitor’s closet?” He and Bert break out in giggles, and Hawk shoots them both his most seething glare.

“If you mention any of this to Sensei Kreese, I will kill you,” Hawk growls.

“Fair enough,” Mitch says, shrugging. Bert nods in agreement.

Hawk reminds himself to wail especially hard on both of them during practice today.

[nomoregoldfish]

I Promised You The Moon rant

Just binged it and this was from the episode by episode reaction/discussion with my partner in crime @glossyboy.

First of all, Oab stole the show, singlehandedly, which he's not supposed to. I don't think anyone expected it including himself. In the very top post when I searched his name on tumblr, he said this lol

But the truth is he played one hell of "villain" that required a very nuanced performance and he delivered it in a believable and graceful manner. Jai became the catalyst of the entire season and his rather complicated relationship with Teh was the highlight of part 2.

EP 1

From the very beginning it's clear that part 2 is very much a Teh's story rather than a balanced story about two young people's journey as a couple in the next chapter of their lives. It makes me uncomfortable they made Oh-aew clingy and pessimistic without giving him any character development.

The best part is probably the opening scene where they went paper-rock-scissors to decide who's gonna buy condoms. It felt authentic, the expectation, the hesitation, the mischievous act, all fits their characters well. Other times ep 1 was more like two adult kids playing house, literally in an empty giant ass upper middle class apartment.

EP 2

It's great that they poked the femininity vs. masculinity issue through Oh-aew, but stopped right there at the surface. Missed a perfect opportunity to go head-to-head with the controversial topic, start a debate, crush the stigma of femininity, bring something new, be a real game changer of the BL genre, and most importantly give Oh-aew some concrete character development. Part 1 showed us a gay character that's very comfortable with his sexuality and femininity, that's almost revolutionary in Asia, not as a comic relief but a leading role. Oh-aew questioned his own sexual identity once in that bra wearing scene, it's straight out of comfort zone, BOLD, and transgressive. So I expected more from part 2.

That's it? And they're already sophomores? Can't believe Oh-aew's character has been marginalized like this. It's pathetic.

But I love the brutally honest conversation at the end where Teh vented his rage and despair regarding his frustration of acting. He was acting like a dick because he's disappointed, and scared. Teh again was not afraid of showing vulnerability, making the reconciliation very realistic and touching.

EP 3

Dare I say I freaking love ep 3! The unresolved (partially sexual, but not entirely) tension between Teh and Jai was over the roof! And the built-up to their kiss was very authentic, which paled Teh and Oh-aew's much sidelined storyline, including the long anticipated sex scene (still can't believe it happened right after Jai explicitly instructed Teh to do it after the two spent a whole night bonding, like wow! Totally TRANSGRESSIVE and to some extent, kinky.) Teh looked up to the senior, idolized him, wanted to be good for him and make him proud, thirsted for the validation from him, which was mixed with affections. The workshop diary was a brilliant idea to let them open up to each other and eventually bring them close. This was what a meaningful arc of a story looked like. By contrast, there isn't a single moment between Oh-aew and Teh in part 2 that made me go "Damn it's soooooo hot!"

I know Jai/Teh wasn't the endgame but I appreciate the storyline so much. It's a very bold move considering it broke the over-glorified "one true love in one's life" fantasy of its target audience, mostly young cis women. The popular narrative of "you can only love one person through your life/one true love" in romance fictions/chick flicks was totally smashed. And it wasn't written just to stir up things between Teh and Oh-aew, it wasn't a silly fling. Instead, it's meaningful, complicated, natural, and realistic, delivered by nuanced and excellent acting from two young actors. It's hilarious that fans hate Jai with a passion and call him names.

And big news, Jai is bi?! Bravo! He's radiating bi vibes since his first appearance.

I kind of gave up at this point, the season wouldn't do Oh-aew any justice. Like my partner in crime pointed out, the costume design literally threw some "incongruous female fashion pieces" on Oh-aew, made him dye his hair red, without...making any actual point of his personality or his character development. Wardrobe was supposed to make a point in storytelling. Yes, PP wearing pink is cute, and? There's nothing else for Oh-aew. Unfortunately he's reduced to this sulky, crying, and wronged partner in a failing relationship.

EP 4

Oab again was killing it. The tension between Jai and Teh...from the rehearsal in front of Oh-aew to the dressing room pep talk, was incredibly intense and hot AF.

Was it a manipulative relationship after all? Oab was so good at conveying a character with many faces. Jai's a mentor to Teh, also a good friend, their relationship was genuine. He's also ambitious with his own goals, he used, challenged, provoked Teh in a way that benefited them both. It made sense the title of part 2, I Promised You The Moon, was from Jai's script. He promised Teh what the junior wanted the most, a bright future in acting. Teh's unconventional and unspoken feelings for Jai was the best part of the entire season in terms of creative writing, it's complicated, fragile, delicate and completely heartbreaking.

The after talk in the hallway was so well-written. It's funny (Teh joking about playwrights always write about their EXs is gold), intimate yet meticulously controlled, no one lashed out or wept. Both knew what they signed up for and Jai particularly made it clear about his motive and the purpose of the "special workshop" beforehand (or right away.) Yet it's no one's fault that Teh got carried away. He's younger, he's immature, he's more into it, it's totally natural. It's so romantic when Teh's singing karaoke in the bar with Oh-aew, yet he couldn't help but desperately staring at Jai on the floor, knowing he and the man who just turned him down were never gonna happen, they were done, but he's still madly attracted to him and his talent. He fancied Jai, at least the idea of Jai, a playwright, a director, someone knew him better than himself. That hurt beautifully.

EP 5

Teh/Oh-aew endgame at this point was pretty meaningless. Oh-aew as a leading character never got any solid character development over a span of four years. What happened between Jai and Teh wasn't just "cheating", though they surely made it look that way, like Teh's empty promise of "I won't see him again after the show ends". No matter how Oh-aew and Teh eventually reconciled, there's no emotional connection, no sparkle anymore between the couple.

But I knew for a fact they had to. Otherwise it's too much of a risk financially for the series. The creators had to take the easy way out like most traditional romances—one of the most contrived and formulaic trope where the male leading character made a mistake (usually cheating) and realized he's wrong, he deeply hurt the female leading character (Oh-aew was merely a girl substitute in part 2), then he completely changed for hell knew what reasons, started doing every nicest thing in the world to try to "win" the female character back. It has been feeding the emotionally-deprived cis female readers/audience who are frustrated with heterosexual relationship irl for decades. The formula that made romance outsell other genres of fictions combined in the 60s and 70s still sells today, under the name of boys' love. It's pathetic to see Oh-aew confess to Bas that he always "lost" to Teh. Love shouldn't be some kind of game or competition, there isn't winner or loser in love. Love is spontaneous. Oh-aew didn't lose because Teh developed feelings for someone else, and he didn't win when Teh begged him for reconciliation. People change, people move on.

And as predicted, they went for it. The ending was so absurd and tedious.

Overall, Jai's probably the hardest villain to play, he needed to be REALLY GOOD to be "the bad guy", to make his role conceivable. Oab absolutely nailed it with his talent and experience. He's not even my type or extremely good looking yet I'm 100% SOLD. I immediately re-watched the scene of him kissing Teh back hungrily at the end of ep 3 like I used to re-watch Teh/Oh-aew's steamy make out session at the end of episode 3 part 1. Coincidence?

I like some parts of both seasons for the same reason, each challenged and tried to break some outdated/contrived narratives in the BL genre. Part 1 took on the sexuality taboo by showing two same sex characters sexually attracted to each other, no more "I'm not into boys, I just happened to fall for someone of the same gender" or "pure love" bullshit. By staying true to the characters' sexuality and actually showing it with explicit, intense (and beautifully shot) scenes, the gay characters were normalized. They weren't just pure and innocent, no one was. And it created two of most unconventional gay characters in Asian pop culture, Oh-aew, a beautiful boy who's very comfortable with his own sexuality and femininity, not passive at all, taking initiative to pursue what he wanted; and Teh, a sensitive, caring and vulnerable boy who cried a lot, he's confused but also sweet and brave.

Part 2 tackled the "You can only love one person through your life" trope with a very nuanced story of "cheating". Yet neither carried out what they started. Part 1 fell short of a revolutionary piece that stayed true to "adolescent sexual turmoil", dismissing bisexuality and becoming a typical unrealistic BL fantasy in the end. And Part 2, ugh, forced a "happy ending" that almost no one digs. I understand it's extremely difficult and risky to disrupt the established norms of a genre. But sometimes being transgressive and progressive could be the same thing. A story, an artwork, has to challenge something in order to create something new and compelling.

[mediocre-writerr]

day 1 [leah rilke]

bring us through: leah rilke book

chapter 3: day 1

hey guys! i posted this on my wattpad (username:THEmediocrewriter11) a while back along with another chapter that’s after this one. if you guys follow it then you’ll get early access to chapters right when they come out! but i hope you enjoy chapter 3!

*not my gif*

My first thought this entire time: why would he do this? If God was real like everyone I’ve known said he is, then why is this happening? Causing me to feel this way, losing two important people in my life in the span of three months, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse it does.

The plane goes down. There’s a 1 in 11 million chance that the airplane will just drop right from the sky and crash. And luckily, for me, like I haven’t had a bad enough year, I am that 1 in 11 million. I’d rather be the 1 in 14 million to win the lottery, but I guess life just doesn’t work like that. Now does it?

I gasped for breath, the taste of unbearable amounts of salt overwhelming my tastebuds. My once dry clothes are now damp and soggy. I put my head on a swivel searching for anyone, but all I could see was the ocean.

“Shelby!!” I yelled, desperate to find my best friend. I squinted far enough to see someone lying on another piece of wreckage from this horrid plane crash. Everything seemed a bit fuzzy. Everything started to fade away from view as my vision started to become more and more fuzzy.

“Shelby…” I mumbled.

My dad threw my journal right at me. It landed on me with an unsatisfying thump, “What the hell is this?!”

“What’s what?” I asked, acting confused, but I knew what he saw. I know what he read. I guess a part of me just wanted to hope that he didn’t and he was angry that I accidentally cussed in one of my entries, but I know what’s in there.

“Don’t lie to me, Ray!” he shouted, picking up my journal and flipping it open to one of the entries, “Then she walked by my locker, my heart gives a flutter, but I didn’t dare utter a word. Because that would be absurd behavior for a little miss perfect.”

Journal Entry: January 7, 2019. How could I forget? How could I forget meeting her? The one girl who changed my life and ruined it all at once. Well I wouldn’t say she ruined it, but things got more complicated when she came in it.

I don’t regret any of it though. I could never regret her. He flipped through the pages again rereading yet another entry, “She stayed over one night. We laughed and shared enticing smirks. She takes a sip of her soda, her eyes never leaving mine. Next thing I know, I lose control. I finally kissed her.”

Journal Entry: March 3, 2019. Again how could I forget my first kiss with someone I actually cared about? I looked at him with tears in my eyes. And all he did was just throw the journal back at me.

“What is all the racket?” my mom came in, drying her hands off with a towel, leaning against the doorframe. She looks between me and my dad. The tears that stained my cheek and the death glare that my father was sending through my spine, “Honey, what’s going on?”

“Your daughter here is committing a sin that is unforgivable.” he spat, emphasizing the daughter part. He wanted nothing to do with me anymore. I wasn’t his daughter in his eyes.

“Wait, what?” she said, shaking her head.

“Rayleigh is gay.”

“Hey, hey! Are you okay?” I awoke to the bright-blue eyed girl staring at me, shaking me lightly. The cool ocean water is still lapping over me, soaking my clothes.

I lifted my head up abruptly, “Where’s-where’s Shelby??” I yelled.

“I don’t know, but we need to get to shore c’mon!” she exclaimed. I examined the terrain to see plane debris everywhere. Wow so this really happened.

“Wait look over there!” I yelled, pointing at another unconscious body. She looked familiar and as I swam closer it was the girl who suggested ‘Never Have I Ever’, “Can you swim?” I asked the blue-eyed girl and she just nodded.

The two of us pushed the girl’ unconscious body to the shore. All three of us laid on the floor completely worn out from fighting the tides.

“Rayleigh is that you??” Dot asked, and she came into view and I just nodded, continuing to cough up the disgusting salt water I accidentally had.

I pointed to the unconscious girl on the floor, “Help,” I began to say, before a fit of coughs hit me like a wave, “Help her.” I finally managed to say. Dot nodded, making her way to the unconscious girl we just saved. And from the corner of my eye I could see her begin CPR.

And then there was Shelby who was helping another limping girl. I let out a breath of relief that I didn’t even know I was holding. She was okay, good, good. She gently placed the girl down on the sand next to Dot before rushing over to me.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked, frantically. Scanning her eyes over every inch of my body, looking for any injury.

“No I’m okay. Are you?” I asked and she just nodded. I looked over at Dot continuing to do CPR, a small crowd forming around her. The girls started bickering about how fast she was going when they didn’t even notice the bookworm girl who was passed on not too far away, “But I don’t think she is.”

I immediately got up from where I was lying down and as fast as the lightning flashed I was right by her side. I pressed my ear against her chest, trying to find a heartbeat despite all of the arguing. There was nothing there, so I put two fingers to her pulse, waiting slowly and patiently.

“I gotta do CPR.” I told Shelby and she just looked at me in shock.

“You were stranded in the middle of the ocean with them. How do you know that you’re not gonna drop dead while doing it too?” she asked, worried about my health and safety.

“I won’t, okay? I’m fine.” I promised my best friend in hopes that she will believe just a little ounce of it.

I didn’t wait for her answer though. I just started doing the CPR on the girl I was so infuriatingly rude to about reading a book. I guess it just reminded me of another time or well, another person.

“No she’s not Rhett. There’s no way.” my mom said, shaking her head. Trying not to believe the harsh reality that was already unfolding in front of her. But the thing is she knew. She always knew and I knew she knew. She just didn’t want to admit or say anything because she knew what my father would do.

“Oh yes she is. Many, many, disrespectful journal entries about something that is not natural!” he yelled. I looked at my mom and gave her a look, she was trying to hide the fact that she already knew, but she was a terrible liar. Luckily for her, my dad was so angry at me that all he could see was red.

“I can’t help the way I feel Dad! I love her!” I tried to plead with him, bargain, or do something. But it was no use, I don’t even know why I bothered trying.

He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest, “This is because you’re hanging out with Shelby all the damn time. I bet you were in on it with her and Becca Gilroy right?”

“This has nothing to do with Shelby!” I yelled back, “I have felt this way for as long as I could remember Dad! I can’t control it.”

“I don’t have an ounce of hate in my body.” he said, his voice getting softer. That was BS though. He has always had hate in his heart for anyone who tried to go against what he wanted, “But this is not what I want for you, honey.”

And with one last look he storms out of the room. I looked at my mom and shook my head at her in disapproval.

“You knew all along.” I whispered to her, just in case my father was anywhere near, “I needed you Mom. And you weren’t there. So thanks for being mother of the year.” I pushed past her and got into my car despite my father’s yelling and I drove to the one person I needed most.

The whole world started to grow fuzzy as I continued doing CPR. All of the exhaustion I was putting into keeping this girl alive was slowly diminishing my life. But out of the corner of my eye I could see the other girl Dot was helping, slowly waking up.

And with one last push of compressions, the blue-eyed girl shot up. But then I was on the floor as everything went black.

[allsassnoclass]

Mashton “now his tummy’s gonna be full of mud”

Gregory I am genuinely so enraged that you asked me to write this but I am a humble entertainer who dances to the whims of the audience so. Boo hiss here this is.

Heads up for copious Supernatural references.  Also they’re both American in this.  It takes place on November 5th.

Mashton: “now his tummy’s gonna be full of mud”

"Ashton," Michael says urgently, staring at his phone.

"What?" Ashton asks, heart pounding.  Has another state flipped?  Have ballots been counted enough to call another win or loss?  Michael stays silent for a moment longer, then moves a hand to cover his mouth.  Ashton can't tell if this reaction is positive or negative, and it sends his anxiety spiking, as if it hasn't already been bad enough since he woke up on Tuesday.

"Michael, what is it?"

"Destiel is canon."

Ashton blinks.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Destiel, from Supernatural, was made canon in tonight's episode.  Then I think they killed him."

"Killed which one?" Ashton asks, because how else is he supposed to respond?

"Cas.  Apparently he confessed his love and then, like, immediately died.  They really did a speed run bury your gays."

"What the fuck?" he asks faintly, moving next to Michael on the couch so he can properly see his phone.

Ashton hasn't exactly been keeping up with the show, but he used to be a fan.  The first few seasons were really good, actually.  There's some interesting points to be made about American loneliness and the portrayal of masculinity in post-9/11 Bush administration, and Ashton is always a sucker for strong family dynamics in media.  There's something familiar about Dean's loyalty and Sam's aspirations, and Ashton has read up about the influence Kerouac and Siken had on the development of the premise and Kripke's vision.

He stopped watching somewhere in season six, so he wasn't overly invested in Destiel, but he can see the appeal of it.  The concept of an angel of the Lord pulling a repressed homosexual man out of eternal damnation and falling in love with him while they both fight against a predetermined reality really could've been a beautiful story if they hadn't ruined it with the rest of the show.

It's just a monster-of-the-week show that devolved into something slightly worse, but Ashton enjoys romanticizing it a little.

"Where's the clip?" he asks.  Michael searches around and manages to find it, and he turns up the volume and tilts his phone so they both can see better.  Ashton recoils slightly at how deep their voices are, because he forgot that both actors torture themselves like that this late in the game, but then he's quickly drawn in to watching the most perplexing love confession he's ever seen.

"What the fuck?" he says to himself once it's finished.  He has no clue what the context was, but he was so distracted by the weird acting and editing that he's not sure if he really needs it.

"Dude, Dean didn't even reciprocate," Michael says.  "That was genuinely the most homophobic love confession they could've done."

"Well, he could come back to life," Ashton says.  "There's two episodes left.  Maybe they'll somehow save him and then Dean will do an equally cringe-worthy love confession and they'll actually live happily."

"Yeah, maybe," Michael says.  Ashton hums, and then Michael starts giggling.

"Destiel became canon before we got the election results," he says.

"Well," Ashton says, starting to laugh a little himself.  "It's 2020.  Might as well throw canon Destiel in there."

"What the fuck," Michael says, and suddenly they're both full-on laughing, because yeah, what the actual fuck?  They're in the middle of a global pandemic, waiting for the results of the most important election of their life so far, living through about five major historical events a week, and suddenly Destiel becomes canon in the most homophobic way possible, complete with a possibly-unrequited love, weird acting and editing, and then immediate use of the bury your gays trope.  There's nothing to do but laugh.  Ashton feels like God gave Samuel Beckett the pen and let him write this year, because things are quickly approaching absurdism.

"I kind of want to watch the first episode with Cas now," Michael says.  "Knowing that this is what he ends up with, I think it'll be funny to see the beginning.

"It's on Netflix," Ashton says.  "We could.  There's nothing stopping us."

Ashton has two papers due on Thursday and half of a book that he has to finish by tomorrow, but it's not like he was having much luck focusing on it before, anyway.  What harm will one episode of Supernatural do?

"We're doing it," Michael says.  He probably has his own block of homework he needs to steadily be working through, but Ashton certainly isn't going to call him on it.  Michael has been nothing but nerves, fear, and irritability since Tuesday, and it's nice to see him smiling.

Who knew that canon Destiel would be the way to accomplish that?

Michael sets up the TV while Ashton clears the coffee table so they can put their feet up if they so desire.

"You know he doesn't appear until the end of the episode, right?" Ashton says.  "I don't actually remember if they really talk in this one."

"Then we'll watch the next episode too.  This isn't amateur hour, Ashton.  I want to see Castiel have a fully conversation with the love of his life!"

"Alright," Ashton says.  "Want to just binge the entire season?"

"We'll see," Michael says, sitting closer than he was before and pulling a blanket off the back of the couch to cover their laps.  Ashton puts his arm along the back of the couch so Michael can cuddle up if he wants.  He's always been pretty tactile, but with the election he's been too jittery to ask Ashton for contact.  Maybe he'll settle enough here to accept some.

"Ready?" Michael asks, holding the remote.  He doesn't wait for a response before pressing play, and they talk the entire way through "The Road So Far," trying to remind each other what context they need when neither of them have actually watched the show in years.

"Hey, how is he going to get out?" Ashton asks when Dean starts banging on the lid of his coffin.  "That's a lot of dirt he has to dig through.  It'd be too heavy and he'd probably suffocate."

"He's just going to eat the dirt," Michael says with a straight face, and that sends Ashton into another fit of giggles.

"What the fuck, Michael," he laughs.

"Why not?" Michael asks, trying to hold back his own smile.  "Do you see another way for him to get out of there?"

"Maybe his angel boyfriend will help him."

Dean's hands break through the Earth, and Michael turns an unimpressed look to him.

"Do you see Castiel anywhere?"

Ashton concedes his point until Michael starts complaining about Dean breaking in to the nearby gas station and guzzling water.

"He's been dead!  He's probably really thirsty, and it's not like they haven't done worse."

"Now his tummy's gonna be full of mud," Michael laments, and that starts Ashton laughing again.

"He didn't eat the dirt!"

"How else did he get out, Ashton?" Michael says, but he's laughing now, too, a delighted, high-pitched sound that Ashton loves, shoulders releasing some of the tension that has built up there.

"Pay attention, he's calling Bobby," Ashton says, and Michael slumps against him.  He keeps up a stream of commentary, cheering when Castiel finally appears at the end, then talks all the way through the next few episodes, too.  The only reason that Ashton realizes he's fallen asleep on his shoulder is the suspicious lack of talking once they reach the seventh episode of the night.

Michael hasn't been sleeping well.  Neither of them have, really, but the dark circles stand out more under his eyes than Ashton's.  They should probably part ways and head off to separate beds, but Ashton is loath to wake him.  Instead, he carefully grabs the remote and turns the volume down just a little.  He shifts slightly, only enough so neither of them will get a crink in their necks, and rests his own head on top of Michael's.  He's out by the time the episode switches over again.

[xhaotixaesthetica]

The Shooting Stars of N.City (Soulmate Au! Jaemin Fluff)

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

Author’s Note: YAY, a request for one of my ult groups! And one of my biases! It’s a win for me, ladies and gays! I accidentally deleted the original request, so I can’t post an answer to it. (It’s really lucky I screenshotted it before that happened.) Also, keep in mind that I’ve never been to a concert before, so this might not be entirely accurate, but I tried to just use my common sense. This imagine honestly has just as much Jisung X Felix as Reader X Jaemin, I’m sorry I got carried away. Hope you enjoy!

Trigger warning: none 

Genre: fluff and slight angst 

Word-count: 4.2K+ 

You are in: The Luck of Fate Star System 

“And what’s the name for that?” the barista asked, the bored lilt to his monotoned voice offset by the heady scent of vanilla and coffee in the air.

“Y/N.” you said softly.

The boy didn’t bother to respond, not even nodding as he tapped your name into the register and told you your total.

“Eight dollars and twenty-one cents.” he drawled.

If it wasn’t so early, you would have groaned about the absurd prices — were you ever going to buy that coffee maker? — but as it was still so early, and you were incredibly sluggish, you only nodded, pulling the money out and handing it toward him.

The boy’s brow furrowed at the ink on your arm, suddenly looking a bit more awake as he craned his neck to see it better, like all nosy people did.

You will meet at: N.City.

The boy startled when you yanked your sleeve down over the words, glaring fiercely as he took the money, stammering and dropping change all over the corner.

You had seen the words on your arm for the longest, and you were beyond sick of being ogled at like a zoo attraction for a soulmate link that you had come to hate anyway.

As if you hadn’t looked at every website, in every almanac and encyclopedia, on every map and globe, trying in vain to find N.City.

Only, no matter how hard you looked it up, you couldn’t find the place on your arm.

N.City was not a real place.

But that didn’t matter, you reminded yourself.

Because this, right now, was a real place. The current moment is what you should be focusing on. Not some distant person that might not even exist in the first place.

“Y/N!” another barista called.

This barista, a pretty girl whose nametag read Yeji, gave you an airy smile as you shuffled up to the counter and took your drink. It made you feel a bit better.

The hot drink in your hands warmed from the inside out, a comforting brace against the sharp November breeze.

Despite the resentment for the words on your arm, you couldn’t help the old childhood habit of brushing your thumb lovingly against the words as you walked into your lecture hall and took your seat.

While your soulmate link wasn’t particularly common, it wasn’t particularly rare either. It wasn’t hard to find other people who had it and they all said the same thing: while seemingly helpful, it acted more like a puzzle than a hint.

Many times, soulmates would have different pieces of the location on their arm, like one soulmate having a street name and the other having the city and state its in. Some soulmates had vague locations like ‘bus’ or ‘river.’

And some, most likely in your case, had emotional locations. This could mean somewhere that’s really important to one of the soulmates, but isn’t actually a place with a name, so the soulmate link had to make one.

This was most likely what you had.

At least, that was what you hoped.

This was much easier to accept than the thought that the soulmate system just screwed you over.

“‘Sup N.City,” Felix’s low baritone, still scratchy with sleep startled you out of your pre-lecture stupor.

You gave him a sour look, too tired and too fond of him to have any real malice behind it.

“Stop calling me that,” you said, like you did twenty times a day whenever he used that nickname. If it had been anyone else, you probably would have body-slammed them.

But Felix, with his deep voice and big pretty eyes and heart way too big for his body, was an extremely hard person to get mad at.

When the years went by and you started to resent the writing on your arm, he was the one who distracted you with Mario Kart and the detentions his stupid ideas brought.

When everyone kept asking what N.City was and what it meant and where it was and your stomach dropped when you saw their faces twist with pity when you said you didn’t know, he was the one who told them to back off and mind their business.

And when people started trying to use your confusion toward your soulmate link to their advantage, trying to trick you into believing they were your soulmate, he was the one who protected you. The one who stood by you when you started isolating everyone in the interest of your safety.

The lecture passed by as it always did, your professor’s incredibly boring voice sliding in one and ear and out the other, without a word of his speech actually sticking in your brain.

If it hadn’t been for the notes Felix took in this class, you probably would have failed weeks ago.

“You really need to start paying attention,” Felix admonished, sounding more amused than disapproving.

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as you two packed up. Well, Felix packed up, you didn’t have anything out to begin with except your iced coffee.

“Come on, Lix. Statistics make me sad, you know this.”

Felix rolled his eyes as you two left the lecture hall, on the way to get some actual food in when his phone buzzed in the middle of the walk.

You weren’t paying attention to him until you noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore.

You glanced around, confused, before seeing him a few paces back, an upset and pensive look on his face.

“Lix? What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

The moment he heard your voice, the look broke and he grinned.

“Felix, I don’t like that look. That’s the same look you got on your face in sophomore year when you—”

“Oh? Oh, we bring up stuff from the past, are we?” Felix’s brow rose and your eyes narrowed. “Because if that’s the case, then we can always talk about that time when—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up,” you hissed, cheeks already flaming as he smirked.

“That’s what I thought,” he said sliding his phone back into his pocket and catching up to you, throwing a jovial arm over your shoulder.

You really didn’t like that grin on his face.

“So you know what concert I was going to in June?”

“Yeah,” you said warily, swiping your student ID at the entrance to the dining hall.

“Well, the concert’s in Korea and I don’t like going by myself, so I was going to have Chris-hyung come with me.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“But he’s going on a family vacation with Lucas and their mom.”

“I really don’t like where this is going.”

“So I want you to come instead.”

“Oh, Felix,” you whined as you two moved down the line.

“No, listen! It won’t be like that time in LA! My Korean is pretty good now and I’ve been to Seoul loads of times before so I can get us around! And Chan already paid for you, so all you have to do is come!”

Your eyes widened, almost dropping your plate as you looked for an empty table to sit at.

“Chan paid for me?”

“Well, he already paid for his stay in the hotel and his concert ticket and his flight and everything so he’s just giving it to you.” Felix smiled brightly, as if he wasn’t asking me to go with him to a country where I couldn’t speak the language and had never been there before to see a band that I didn’t even know the name of.

Felix was an avid K-Pop fan, but I think it was only because of the name that appeared on his collarbone a day before he turned eighteen.

Han Jisung.

A Korean name if I’d ever seen one. Since then, Felix had been to Korea like six times and was very near fluent in the language. Despite always going there “strictly for concerts and conventions,” he always stayed for, like, a week to “take in the sights.”

Normally, any mention of soulmates irked you. You tried to forget about it as time went on, but it kept being thrown in your face. Couples everywhere, your parents and family constantly harassing you about N.City and your potentially nonexistent soulmate.

But you found his dedication to his soulmate so cute and genuine and innocent, that you just couldn’t fault him for it. This Han Jisung was a very lucky person. 

And, no matter how much you didn’t really want to give up a week of your hard-earned summer downtime to go frolicking in a foreign country, you had to admit that the idea of Felix being alone there didn’t sit well with you either.

“Ugh, fine. But you better not turn me into Nancy Drew looking for Han Jisung.”

Felix blushed, ducking his head down as he grumbled, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

~

The next two months passed by uneventfully. Exams, homework, and copious amounts of finals stress came and went. And though you and Felix were worn and tired, the thought of having another year under your belt and being one step closer to your degree lifted your spirits considerably.

Because you were petty, you didn’t admit to Felix how excited you actually were about the upcoming trip. But he’d known you for years and the grin wouldn’t leave his face as he watched you run around your room, stuffing clothes and toiletries in a suitcase as you babbled nearly incoherently to him, practicing the little phrases of Korean that you had had time to learn.

Something you knew from experience was that traveling with Felix was . . . stressful. At least, at the beginning.

You had both worked out a plan two days earlier to keep everything relaxed and smooth.

However, the day of the flight, that entire plan went out the window.

You both woke up an hour and a half after the alarm went off, had to go back to his house three times for things you forgot (one of which being his passport and ticket), the bus you were on broke down, Felix cause a hold up at TSA cause of all the snacks in his carry-on, you very nearly got questioned by the police when Felix yelled, “This concert is going to be the bomb!” at the top of his lungs, and then you nearly fought a man at the terminal who you were pretty sure was trying to kidnap you and Felix.

“This happens every time!” you complained to him as you both finally boarded the plane, putting your carryon in the overhead compartment.

Felix got the window seat — due to all his whining — but at this point, you didn’t even care, just settled down in your seat with your earbuds, head leaning back, and drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

At least that’s what was about to happen until Felix tapped your shoulder.

“I have to pee, you have to move.”

“Oh, for FUCK’S SAKE!”

~

You wondered if other people had this same experience, the feeling that everywhere they went, soulmates were all people seemed to want to talk about. But maybe it was just because you were trying to avoid the topic that it kept coming up.

Either way, you were pretty sure that hearing Felix talk about the etymology of the name Han Jisung for the past ninety minutes would have been too much for anyone.

“We’re here!” you said gratefully, nearly crying tears of relief as you practically threw yourself out of the Uber you were sharing with Felix.

The venue was large, and you were elated to see there weren’t too many people in line yet so Felix, hopefully, wouldn’t have time to start talking about Jisung again.

You really hoped they met soon, because, as much as you loved Felix, you didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

“What’s the name of the group again?” you asked as you and Felix walked in, stopping at a merch stand so Felix could buy a shirt and lightstick.

“NCT,” he replied, holding a shirt and lightstick out to you as well as if asking if you wanted one as well.

You shook your head. “Nah, those things are way too expensive to buy one for someone who isn’t even a fan.”

Felix only smirked, buying the extra shirt and lightstick anyway.

“You will be after this, trust me.”

You shrugged, putting the shirt on over your clothes and turning the lightstick around in your hands, examining it curiously. It wasn’t the prettiest thing, but it wasn’t that ugly.

Maybe you could use it to light the way when you go to the bathroom at night.

It was Felix’s money, he could spend it how he pleased. Well, more likely it was Chan and Woojin’s money, but that’s beside the point.

For the next hours, you and Felix spent a generous amount of time talking, beating each other up with lightsticks, and conversing with other fans until finally the lights die down and the music starts up . . .

~

The summer air was cool, gently ticking your face as you gazed up at the sky. The night was quiet, quiet as it could be in a big city like Seoul, and the only other thing that filled your ears was the sound of NCT’s songs on shuffle.

You’d been impressed by the concert, to say the least.

The way they all performed with such passion and precision made you feel electric and, even though you didn’t know the words to the songs, you almost forgot you weren’t a fan as you waved the lightstick and hummed along with Felix beside you.

When you got back to the hotel, you were still wired, unlike Felix, who fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

You decided to go to the nearest park, only a couple minutes' walk away. Even though you didn’t wake Felix up and disturb him, you made sure to text him the location of the place you were going ahead of time just in case something bad happened.

So far, nothing had happened though. There were other people in the park, but none of them paid much attention to you. It seemed they were all just people who couldn’t sleep either.

At least, that was what you thought until some random guy appeared beside you, pointing at the spot on the bench next to you. “Can I sit here?” his voice was smooth and pleasant, and you nodded before you even realized what you’d agreed to.

The boy — who seemed to be about your age — had a black mask on, but you could see his eyes crinkle cutely so you were pretty sure he smiled as he sat beside you.

“Are you here for the shooting stars?” he asked.

Your face contorted in confusion.

“The what?”

“There’s supposed to be shooting stars tonight,” the boy said. “That’s what most of these people are doing here.”

“I didn’t know that. I just couldn’t sleep. I went to a concert, so I guess the adrenaline still hasn’t worn off.”

The boy rose an eyebrow. “The NCT 127 concert? You went?”

You nodded, a ghost of a smile curving your lips. “Yeah, I went with a friend. He’s an NCT friend. I guess I am too, after what I saw at their concert.”

“Do you recognize me?” the stranger suddenly asks.

You stared at him for a moment, bewildered. It was kind of hard to see past the black hoodie, mask, and sweatpants that covered nearly every inch of him, but even so, you pretty sure you’d never met this person before.

“Uh, should I?”

The boy’s eyes changed and you were pretty sure he was smirking.

“NCT has another sub-unit, NCT Dream. Are you and your friend going to see them perform tomorrow?”

You racked your brain for anything Felix might have said about it and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think he did say we’re going to see them to— oh. Wow . . .”

At that moment, the shooting stars appeared, brilliants streaks of white painting the sky, enrapturing you so much that you failed to see the boy staring in awe at you, a realization seeming to dawn upon him as he watched your face light up at the sight of the shooting stars.

“Holy shit, it's you,” he breathed.

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him. Before you could ask any questions, he just held a hand out to you. You were even more confused at first, before you saw the words on his palm. They were in Korean at first, but they shifted before your eyes, reforming into an English sentence.

You will meet: under the shooting stars.

Your eyes widened, glancing back up at the shootings tars, now long-gone, leaving behind only the brilliants trails where they once were.

“I....but I don’t understand.”

You yanked your sleeve up showing the sentence inscribed onto your arm, but it only made the boy’s eyes crinkle more.

“NCT 127 is called that because they’re based in Seoul. That’s what 127 is, it’s the coordinates for the city. NCT? N.City? You came to Seoul for their concert and now we met under the stars. We’re—”

“Soulmates,” you whisper in disbelief, your eyes widened to the point of saucers.

The boy grinned, nodding as he finally pulled his mask under his chin, revealing the face of what was probably the most gorgeous boy you’d ever seen in your life, a few strands of soft-looking pink hair falling into his sparkly eyes, curved with happiness.

You let out a choked sob as you flung your arms around his neck, hugging him close without even really being conscious of what you were doing, but your soulmate didn’t seem to mind. He just laughed, arms circling around your waist just as tight, rocking you back and forth, hand rubbing your back comfortingly as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“I thought you weren’t real, I thought the system screwed up,” you blubbered, hands clenching fistfuls of his hoodie. “I tried to look for N.City and I couldn’t find anything, so I thought . . .”

You trailed off, trying to pull yourself together as you buried your head in his chest, the scent of his sweet-smelling cologne filling your senses and calming you slightly.

Your soulmate nodded in understanding, hugging you a little bit closer.

“I’m real. I’m real and I’m here and I’m yours,” he whispered.

“I can’t believe all those years of being obsessed with astronomy actually paid off,” he said and you scoffed.

“I can’t believe letting Felix drag me to a foreign country actually paid off,” you chuckled.

Your soulmate stiffened, pulling back to look at you. “Felix? Lee Felix? His Korean name is Yongbok?”

Your jaw dropped, brows furrowing as you nodded slowly. “Yeah, how did—”

“I’m friends with Han Jisung.”

~

“FELIX!”

A loud bang echoed through the hotel room as Felix shot up in the bed, an anguished cry escaping him when his forehead collided with the headboard.

“What? Are we being robbed? Where’s the fire? Fuck, that hurt!”

Felix groaned, clutching his head, only to yelp when he strayed too close to the edge of the bed and tumbled to the floor in a heap of aching limbs.

You barely even noticed, throwing him clothes and speaking so fast that Felix wouldn’t even be able to understand what you said if you hadn’t just woken him up and given him two concussions and a bone fracture in the span of eight seconds.

“Y/N, slow down, what the hell are you talking about, I— DON’T TOUCH THAT, I CAN GET DRESSED BY MYSELF!”

“Hurry up then!” you groaned, shoving a jacket onto him as he put a pair of jeans and a sneaker on at the same time.

You finally made it out of the hotel room, arguing incoherently the entire time as you pulled Felix along to the destination that you and your soulmate had agreed upon before racing to go fetch your respective friends.

Your soulmate had obviously been more adept at explaining the situation as he stood beside an intensely good-looking boy with long-ish messy blonde hair that looked nervous beyond all belief, but otherwise pretty well pout-together for being woken up at three in the morning.

Meanwhile, you and Felix were still arguing loudly as you entered the already-loud restaurant, his shirt on backward, jeans inside out, mismatched socks on, one shoe missing, and hair sticking up at every angle as he shouted at you, the both of you somehow not bumping into anything as you approached the pair.

“— could have died for Christ’s sake Y/N, you don’t even know Hangul, not to mention I have a headache the size of Germany now and—”

“Germany is a small country and headaches don’t have sizes you moron—”

“YOU KNOW WHAT—”

“DO YOU WANT TO MEET JISUNG OR NOT?”

That made him shut up, eyes wide as he gaped at you, still not noticing the two boys now directly in front of you.

“I— wha— Jisung?” he finally stuttered out.

You wordlessly waved a hand toward the boy, who you could now clearly see had Felix Lee/Lee Yongbok written on the back of his hand.

“That’s him. He’s apparently one of my soulmate’s friends so I thought you’d like to finally meet him.”

Felix looked back and forth between you and Jisung, mouth flapping open and closed like a fish as he tried to find the words to say.

Jisung finally found his voice, squeaking out a, “You’re very pretty.” in a timid shaky voice.

That seemed to shake Felix back to his senses as he flung himself onto the boy. They were the same height but Felix still found a way to comfortably nestle his head in the crook of his neck.

Jisung looked surprised but absolutely elated and you could already tell that he was even more whipped for Felix than Felix was for him. You could see Felix’s ears flushing red as Jisung whispered things in his ear in Korean that you probably didn’t even want to know.

“They’re cute together,” you whispered as your soulmate came over to you, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“Not as cute as you,” he said, grinning as you groaned.

“Ugh, way too cheesy,” you said in mock disgust as you two sat in a booth, no longer focused on Jisung and Felix at all.

“Get used to it, prince(ss). You’re stuck with me for now. For a long time, hopefully.”

You smiled, anticipation thrumming in your veins as his face advanced closer to yours. You had always thought it was stupid that soulmates got so comfortable with each other, and especially with physical affection, so early on in the relationship, but now you understood perfectly.

You didn’t even care about the fact that you and your soulmate hadn’t even exchanged names or numbers yet as his lips met yours. All you cared about right now was him and the rest could come later.

And if the way he held you so delicately and adoringly was anything to go by, he felt the same.

~

“Wait, so you’re telling me that my soulmate is an idol?” you gaped, turning to look at Jaemin who smiled sheepishly.

Felix snorted, shoving twelve fries into his mouth at once, as he cuddled into Jisung’s side, much like you were doing with Jaemin in the booth seat across from theirs.

Jisung and Felix were an incredibly good-looking couple. You’d grown somewhat used to how pretty Felix was, but Jisung looked like a prince from another direction and it startled you every time you glanced in his direction.

Still, biased though you might be, you didn’t really think anyone was in the same league as Jaemin, whose name you just found out three minutes ago.

“You’d know what if you actually asked his name before you decided to shove your tongue down his throat.” Felix sassed.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You really want to go there, Felix? You really want to bring that up when I saw Jisung squeeze your ass right in front of my salad two seconds ago?”

Jaemin guffawed loudly as Felix choked on his water. Jisung just gave a tiny smile, not looking the least bit ashamed or sorry.

“Touche,” Felix squeaked.

“Isn’t a relationship going to be complicated for you?” you whispered worriedly to Jaemin as Felix and Jisung talked amongst themselves.

Jaemin’s smile dropped and he looked completely serious now, scaring you a bit as he took your hands in his.

“No matter how hard or complicated it gets, I won’t let that get in the way, Y/N. I’ve waited for you way too long to let my work get in the way. I want you to know I’m serious about this, Y/n, serious about you. I can’t guarantee that we’ll last forever, but I’ll do my part in trying.”

You stared, speechless, for a moment, trying very hard to keep your tears at bay.

The moment was ruined when Felix and Jisung groaned.

“You guys are disgusting.”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”

The Luck of Fate Star System 

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

[mz-hide]

Mowing the Lawn - Chapter 3

Aka: a Dragon Ball Z AU slash fic.

Chapter 3

May I interest you in some morning after shenanigans?

Summary: Mowing the lawn (in almost every sense of the term). Goku and Vegeta have a secret relationship. Turles has a cute dealer and needs someone to smoke his pot with. Raditz thinks the only thing hotter than the weather is his moms’ new lawnmower boy. Ships & Pairings: Son Goku/Vegeta, Raditz & Turles, Raditz/Turles, Gine/Seripa | Fasha, Bardock/Toma, Bulma Briefs/Yamcha, Brolly/Raditz, Brolly/Turles, Daiz/Turles, Daiz/Raditz/Turles, Bardock/Turles, Bardock/Toma/Turles         Contains: Gay Sex, Established Relationship, Casual Sex, Fuckbuddies, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Secret Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Alternate UniverseAlternate Universe - Human, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome, seducing the pool boy, Dirty Talk, Smoking, Explicit Sexual Content, Resolved Sexual Tension, Open Relationships, Open Marriage, Age Difference, Sexual Roleplay, Friends With Benefits, Sexcapades, masturbation      

You can find the rest on my AO3 page (username: originalmonkeyhydes)

Yamcha had foul breath and wore the same smelly clothes from the night before. Nevertheless, there was a spring in his step when he made his way back to the hotel the next morning. He’d had a wonderful time the night before. Bulma was the kind of girl that made it hard for him to believe his luck every time she invited him into her bed. He had all but forgotten he hadn’t been the one winning the medal and the prize money at the tournament. He idly wondered how his room mate had celebrated his victory, after the unannounced meeting of the night before. If a fight had broken out, he would have heard something about it from Krillin or master Roshi. Surely, his friend handn’t just gone straight to bed. Even after so many years of acquaintance, Goku was still somewhat unreadable to him. If Yamcha had to guess, Goku had probably wondered off to look for some cheap thrill -or rather, what his version of a thrill was- most likely a place that served food late at night, because that’s what Goku did when he was in a good mood. He was somewhat of a hedonist in that way… As the elevator doors opened on his floor, however, the trail of his thoughts was interrupted. Yamcha couldn’t help but stare at the disheveled beauty that hurried past him to catch the elevator. His bewildered eyes followed her, duly noting her embarrassed, shifting gaze, the way her hair stuck to the back of her head, how the dress she wore and the high-heeled shoes that dangled from her hand didn’t suit the time of the day. Only when the girl’s eyes met his, he averted his prying stare. He was by no means an expert, but he knew enough to know what a walk of shame looked like. Then the elevator door closed and the vision disappeared. Yamcha didn’t quite know what exactly had clicked into his mind -maybe it was because the girl was dark and fiery-eyed- but he suddenly suspected he knew what door she’d come out from. Pursing his lips, he opened the door to his room. What he saw, seemed to confirm his suspicions. His side of the room was just as he’d left it. Goku’s side however… “Well… Who would have thought!”, Yamcha whistled, impressed, smirking from ear to ear. “Seems like Goku is not as innocent as he would have all of us think!” Beer cans were scattered here and there on he floor. The sheets on Goku’s bed were crumpled, the pillows in disarray and the scent wafting weakly off of the bed erased what little room had been left for interpretation. As it should have been expected, the faint sound of running water came through from underneath the bathroom door. Yamcha knocked, calling out loudly over the noise. “Hey, Goku, It’s me. I just came back to pack my bag. But I still have to get some stuff from the bathroom.” “Uhhhh… Can it w- uh… can it wait?” That made Yamcha smirk even wider. The alarm in his friend’s tone was proof enough to confirm his suspicions once and for all. Goku had never been shy about his nudity. He must have been in pretty rough shape… But the man had also just won a martial arts tournament, so Yamcha thought it wise to let his hand draw away from the door handle. The teasing would have had to wait. “Sure. Just make sure to bring my stuff down”, he let him know on his way out, showing his back over his shoulder, “We’re all meeting up in the lobby later. Check out is in thirty minutes. Don’t forget!” He left the room as merrily as he’d walked in. He couldn’t wait to tell Bulma what he’d just found out. Inside the bathroom, Goku was standing still under running water, pricking his ears. “I think he’s gone”, he finally let out in a sigh. “Good”, his lover hissed, irritated. The tiles of the hotel shower were hard on his knees. “Let’s make these thirty minutes count.” Goku stifled a groan. Vegeta's head had promptly sunk down and the two of them had resumed where they’d left off. Lucky circumstance indeed, that Goku hadn’t wanted to shower the night before, or Yamcha would have walked in on his friend writhing against his rival’s generous mouth.

“You know, waiting you directly at the train station like we’d agreed would have saved me a lot of trouble. What is so exciting that you wanted me to come all the way here for?”, Bulma complained, fanning herself with a hand. She’d received a cryptic text from Yamcha, summoning her to the hotel where he was staying quite urgently. He’d refused to tell her why. She’d had to walk quite fast to get there in time. The effects of her morning showers had already been defeated by the heat and the rush. Instead of smelling like her delicate, lily-of-the-valley shower gel, she was now sweaty, sticky and slightly out of breath -and patience, at the sight of her boyfriend looking childishly expectant when he saw her. “So, where’s the fire?”, she inquired, already unimpressed by the seeming lack of anything remotely interesting happening in the hotel lobby. “No fire. At least, not now. But some sparks definitely flew yesterday night”, Yamcha reported, leaning close, animated and conspirational like a teenage girl over some saucy gossip. For some reason, he looked and sounded very proud of himself. “Gosh, Yamaha, is this about last night? You know I was there, right? You better not had me come here just to-” “No no no, this is something better! Er- even better!”, he corrected himself, after catching his girlfriend’s glare. “How so?” “I saw the hottest chick when I was coming back to my room this morning. I swear, she was a vision. All ruffled and dark-haired and she had the skimpiest dress and a great pair of- Ouch!” “What part of this nonsense is supposed not to make me want to rip your face off, exactly?”, Bulma inquired in a venomous hiss, as she yanked her boyfriend by the ear, quite harshly, “Ugh, and you smell too! Weren’t you supposed to have plenty of time to shower?” “I was getting there!”, Yamcha complained, clasping his abused earlobe, “You see, this girl, she clearly looked like she had some fun the night before, right? And she got on the elevator on our floor. And, then, when I got to our room Goku was in the shower.” He paused, theatrically, waiting for a reaction. “… And?” Bulma wasn’t sure she’d understood where her boyfriend was trying to go with that absurd revelation. “Don’t you get it? Our good ol’ friend got lucky last night! With some stranger hottie!” Bulma seemed to consider the scenario for a moment. “That might not mean anything. Maybe she came from another room.” “Maybe. Maybe the mess on Goku’s sheets was just mayo, then. A whole jar of it-” “Ewww. Too much information!”, Bulma grimaced, swatting the air before her eyes as if to disperse the disturbing visual that had just been conjured up in her mind. “You see my point now? Goku definitely scored last night.” “Why on earth did you think I needed to know that? Or call me all the way here, for that matter.” “So that we could both be here for this moment.” “And what moment would that be?” “Oh, you know. It’s a very special moment in a boy’s life…” “Oh, please! This is not his first time.” Bulma’s remark sounded just a touch too knowing for Yamcha’s taste. This time it was his turn to frown. “Just what makes you sound so sure about it?” He’d always known Bulma had had a crush on their mutual friend. It had gone unspoken, but it had been clear as day for years. Bulma was the kind of girl who’s very open with her feelings and very direct with what she wants. Uncharacteristically, she’d never really come on to Goku -probably because she saw him  more as a little brother than anything else- but she’d never bothered to hide the way she looked at him, at times, when she felt significantly less sisterly towards him. Goku being younger, buffer and stronger than him, this crush of hers, albeit insignificant, never failed to make Yamcha feel insecure and, consequently, jealous. “Get your mind out of the gutter, stupid, it wasn’t me!”, Bulma retorted, returning the indignant frown, “I just happen to know some things.” “And you never thought to share this knowledge? I thought he was a virgin all this time”, Yamcha carried on, his sensibilities now upset by her secrecy. “Would that have been important to know, for your friendship? That he isn’t a virgin?” Bulma was visibly annoyed. That was yet another sore spot in Yamcha’s pride, and a strain their relationship: Bulma had been Yamcha’s first, but not the other way round. “Well, no- not really, I’m just saying…” “I swear I will never get you boys and your inferior logic”, Bulma sighed, rolling her eyes. In that moment, Master Roshi made his appearance, looking a lot merrier than someone who should be suffering quite a grandiose hangover. “Morning, lovebirds! Had fun last night?”, he inquired, eyeing the young couple ever so significantly. Bulma scoffed, turning her head the other way. She found herself wondering why she still hung around that old sleaze. “Master, I absolutely need to tell you about this chick I saw last night on the elevator”, Yamcha approached his master, grateful for the distraction and hopeful that he of all people would have been positively receptive of his story. He was halfway through describing said chick when Goku finally got down to the lobby. Yamcha turned to him as soon as he caught a glimpse of his signature orange sweater, ready to grill him about every raunchy detail with a toothy grin on his lips… A grin that died as soon as he laid eyes on the shorter, darker figure that walked behind him. “Hey guys, sorry I’m late!”, the young man greeted them as if there was nothing unusual about the situation, “Here, Yamcha, this is the stuff you left in the bathroom.” “Thanks, man”, he replied, drily. He eyed Bulma and saw his same confusion reflecting on her features. “We’re off to the station now. We’re running a bit late and Bulma has to buy her ticket, so…” “Oh, don’t worry, she can have mine”, Goku helpfully offered, fishing the piece of paper from his bag. “I won’t need it?” “Sorry, what?” The weider the situation got, the wider Yamcha’s eyes became. It was clear nobody was gonna address the elephant in the room, who was currently waiting a few steps away, burly arms crossed over the sculpted chest and an annoyed look on his face that was clearly directed at their group, despite facing in another direction. “I decided I’m not going back home just yet”, Goku said, simply, as if that explained anything at all, “I’ll see you soon at training as soon as I do come back. Have a safe trip!” “W-wait! So… where are you going?”, Yamcha stopped him as his friend started walking towards the entrance. “Dunno”, was the disarming -yet, frankly, not unexpected- reply. Equally disarming and less expected, was the expectant look the young man shot behind his shoulder. “To get breakfast”, the older man informed, heading for the entrance himself, “Before you get whiny.” “How does he know that about Goku? Since where those two hang out together without breaking each other's bones?”, Bulma whispered in her boyfriend’s ear, staring at the odd couple as they walked off together. Yamcha slowly shook his head. He’d barely registered what his girlfriend had said. His mind was too busy processing the stinging feeling that his nose had picked up a hint of the same pine-tree shower gel wafting off both men. Or maybe it had just been his imagination. “You don’t think they got into a fight?”, Bulma continued, “I thought I saw some bruises on Vegeta.” “Maybe. Or maybe he was the one that got lucky last night”, Yamcha wondered out loud, trying to remember seeing the man in their hotel at any point during their stay. “With the dark-haired hottie from last night you were telling me about earlier?”, Master Roshi butted in, “Like hell he did!” “What makes you so sure?” “Because I did.” “What?”, Bulma let out, slightly horrified. “How?”, Yamcha asked, not unimpressed, despite himself, “Goku and I were with you all evening and walked you to the hotel!” “Picked her up at the hotel bar. Took only a couple extra drinks too”, the old man gloated, toddling proudly ahead of them, “This old grandpa still got it!”

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told - Part 2 of 2

More Endgame and Baghdad Waltz spoilers ahoy!

This is such high praise, and I’m really humbled to receive it. Well, I would be lying if I told you I’ve never daydreamed about giving up my current career to write. I imagine many fic writers fantasize about this. But it’s hard work to break into, as you’ve implied, and there really aren’t shows out there like the old Star Trek that have open submission policies, so my understanding is that you’ve got to hustle to get your shit out there. I am not a person who has that kind of hustle, I’m afraid, nor the confidence in my skills, and I really do love my current career deeply. But I probably won’t stop writing any time in the near future, because it’s my sole creative outlet, and who knows what the future may hold. I appreciate your kind words very much and will endeavor to keep improving my skills to deliver better character arcs than Endgame did. I hope my next fic will be better than BW, in terms of craft and consistency, though people will probably be lukewarm on the subject.

Okay, I don’t want to go full SALTMODE (edit: I totally did), but let’s talk about this Steve who goes back to Peggy. Can we agree that Endgame Steve is about 110-180 degrees different from the Steve Rogers who went into the ice? And, really, why wouldn’t he be? He’s been through horrifying, horrifying things and placed the burden of it on himself, whether he earned it or not, because he’s Steve Rogers and that’s how he Steves. And he’s had five years to disconnect and sink into himself and pine over Peggy the Idealized Woman/Past and probably get horribly stuck in his grief process over Bucky and Sam and everyone else, and I imagine he just get all sorts of messed up after failing to reverse the snap. So, why would Peggy want this guy? Would she even recognize him? And then there’s our poor Ice Steve. I mean, shit, he was the one who Peggy probably really would have wanted, but did Endgame Steve just leave that guy? Did he set him loose? Tell him about Bucky? Help him find Bucky? Who’s this Bucky guy again…?

And now that I think of it, if Endgame Steve came back to her, would he say he’s from the future? Would he lie and say he’s Ice Steve (fat chance pulling off that one)? Because if he didn’t lie, she would absolutely insist that they find Ice Steve and pull him out. That’s the man she loves! And you’re telling me, movie, that she STILL chooses the weird disaffected, depressed, traumatized future Steve she doesn’t know over the Steve she loves and knows already — and who just saw Peggy, like, 20 minutes ago, as far as he knows?? (All of this is functioning on the MCU’s presumption that Steve capital-L Loves her back, BTW.) Did Ice Steve and Endgame Steve fight over Peggy? Did he pull the ol “Hey your BFF is actually alive” card to win the fight and then compliment his own star-spangled ass? I mean, this whole thing is so patently absurd that it’s almost not worth thinking about, but Jesus. It makes NO SENSE why Endgame Steve would get Peggy while Ice Steve would either a) stay in ice or b) not get Peggy, if he was in love with her. Poppycock!! This MOVIE.

Welp, I can’t do really anything in one or two sentences, apparently, so...

I will open with the caveat that I am not a Loki person. I have nothing against Loki, I just never particularly attached to him. This is probably because I didn’t really enjoy the Thor movies (except Ragnarok, which I know is divisive and may mean I have bad taste?) and so never got deep into Loki’s story. And I am one of the five people on the planet who didn’t like the first Avengers movie, in part because I thought Steve’s character was so off the mark that it made me wonder if Joss Whedon even saw TFA, and I just found the jokes and the pacing to be so mehhh. And also Joss Whedon has none of my respect, first for Avengers 1’s bad characterization and flat jokes, and second for Age of Ultron’s rampant misogyny poorly disguised under gurl power. Prima nocta? Really? And most egregious — Natasha’s random dating of Bruce (i.e., any penis without a family, a girlfriend, or a gay love interest) just to give birth to some shitty infertility narrative, as if the Black Widow doesn’t have a tragic enough backstory that she needs some bullshit sterilization procedure to make her a sympathetic figure — I’m sorry, make her “a monster,” which infertility apparently makes you.

ANYWAY, about Loki. If I were a Loki fan, I would be pissed about the way his story ended. I was pretty irritated anyway, because his death in IW only seemed to serve as a device to trigger Thor’s emotional journey in that film. And even then, it was minimized by Rocket being like, “So, dead brother, huh? Yeah, that can be annoying.” And yeah, that’s totally a Rocket thing to say, but Thor responds with “Well, he's been dead before. But this time... I think it really might be true…” and then he launches into his grief about his other family and his people. There’s hardly a sense that he’s grieving for Loki personally, and we never see any closure or interaction between them in Endgame, which also minimizes the character’s importance in the MCU as the big sendoff movie. Sure, he gets ahold of the Tesseract and gets to escape, great, but what does that even mean? It wasn’t a moment of major emotional valence.

The audience didn’t really get a chance to properly say goodbye to him. You got a horrific image of his death, truly awful, worse than almost any significant minor character. I cannot imagine what that must have felt like. I can relate to the Loki bad arc thing through the crappy way that Steve and Bucky’s relationship was barely tended to in the last two movies, but they both made it alive, so it’s not even the same. I feel dissatisfied and frustrated on your behalf that his death was a mere device and that his behavior on the Asgardian ship was stupid at best and possibly OOC at worst, I’m not sure what you thought of it. Maybe that was part of some redemptive arc, but he seemed like he should be more clever than that. My condolences for your character getting short shifted along with everyone else except Tony Stark.

Another interesting question.

Bucky probably hasn’t talked to Steve much about George, because it’s just too raw of a subject for him. He still blames himself for George’s death, too, so to think of George is to almost inevitably feel pain. I think Steve has surmised that his death is a core wound for Bucky, which he’s no doubt projecting his own experience of losing his mother upon, but I imagine he holds George in positive regard because the little Bucky has said about him has been positive. I really think the more telling thing is Bucky’s behavior, which is emulating George’s career as a soldier (which, as an infantryman, is more closely aligned with George’s than Winnie’s), and Steve would probably see that as a reflection of the positive role George has had. But like most things, Steve undoubtedly wants to know more, especially as he learns more about Bucky. He would want to know why Bucky has such a bad relationship with his own sexual orientation. Why he started drinking so young. I imagine he’d start to wonder why the math doesn’t add up. Steve knows Winnie well and believes that she’s a very good mother, so how would Bucky grow up to be this way if he had two wonderful, stable parents? Was it just George’s death that threw him off? Maybe, or was there something else? I imagine he’ll get more suspicious as he learns more.

That’s all for now! Stay tuned in the next week or so for Chapter 34. Thank you so much for the wonderful Asks and keep them coming! 

[constantlyirksome]

Drag Race All Stars 4x06 “The Hunt for Naomi Small’s Bones.” Review.(Spoilers)

It’s hard to win a game, or even know if you’re playing well, if the rules keep changing every five fucking minutes.

This has become a real pain in recent seasons of Drag Race, crazy senseless twists that end up “robbing” queens who have better score cards. While the girls don’t seem to have any trouble keeping within the confines of the honour system, Mother Ru makes the rules and basically just does whatever she wants. However, even if the ending was anti climactic this week’s twist did keep you on the edge of your seat.

In an unprecedented lip sync spectacular, the four eliminated queens thus far got to lip sync against a queen still in the game, and the winner got to keep their place in the competition. This meant potentially the eliminated four could all return, along with Monet x Change and Manila Luzon who had immunity after last weeks double win. Though possible however, it would have been shocking if any more than two came back let’s be real. Rupaul makes the rules but she also chooses who stays and despite evidence to the contrary is not an idiot.

Before the six remaining queens are dragged across the floor by their hair over the absurdity of the maxi challenge, all the queens sit for a kiki, the eliminated girls wearing black funeral attire, following the previous weeks challenge and the remaining queens still in their angelic white. Farrah Moan, who misunderstood the assignment, was dressed as a red flight attendant.

They griped over their eliminations, the eliminated queens were bound to have issues with their eliminators. Farrah and Valentina, carrying on their two-year feud, discuss how Valentina’s decision set their relationship back, because clearly they had done a lot of work mending fences since S9. Latrice Royale came for Monique next, citing her elimination was favouritism, because Monet was Monique’s season ten sister. Monique, always honest, calls bullshit and rightly so. Latrice wasn’t bringing it to the competition; she repeatedly served stale season four teas and blamed others for her flops. Latrice can’t believe this, having been treated as a fan darling warps a persons perceptions I guess.

After the girls react to how horrible Rupaul’s suit this week was, there’s about twenty minutes of chatting, hashing and re hashing beefs. While the queens pair off to bicker, Monet and Manila scheme off to the side, delighted in their competitor’s discomfort. Honestly I felt the same, knowing Manila was safe made the episode so much more enjoyable. Sure a mix up in the roster was a fun idea but beyond her I didn’t really care who ended up where.

The main stage was set, and the girls come down the runway in their best battle armour. Valentina gave us sexy Jessica rabbit in a suit that was both functional and fashionable, Farrah gave cute Vegas showgirl, and Gia serve Gogo Yubari with a high pony. The boots include Jasmine and Latrice who was cosplaying as Margot Robbie from I Tonya. Manila and Monet didn’t have to think about performing so they got to experiment and look glamorous.

Challenge lip-sync one is lined up; the eliminated queens picked their pre determined rivals. In an unprecedented move in stupidity Jasmine Masters picked Trinity, who surfed her way into a top four with her lip-sync assassinations. However, Trinity got crazy lazy with her reveal, having come down in a black hairdressers cape, to reveal a lacklustre outfit to dance in. There is absolutely no fun in a reveal you can see coming from space. God bless them but Trinity and Monet do this a lot, boring dresses that turn into boring swimsuits. But this reveal was on the level of Alaska turning into Lil Poundcake or Aquaria in her balloon boy outfit.

Trinity still won tho obviously, after being the most nervous about the challenge the most, bless her. The next one, Farrah versus Valentina was narratively interesting, would Farrah get her revenge? No, Valentina just sends her home a second time.

Up next came the performance that gave all gays everything they ever wanted. Miss Gia tried her hardest, as a showgirl she pulled out as many stops as she could but Naomi came out wildin’. She swiffered the floor with her taint, using her crane legs as leverage before performing what should be an illegal backbend. The girl literally folded in half. She was still taller than Gia.

Last and certainly least was Latrice v Monique, and really I didn’t have a clue which way this one would swing, I don’t recall Latrice getting wild on the main stage before but I’ll admit, entitlement aside, along with a basic wig reveal, she earned her spot back in the game. The only eliminated girl to manage it.

But then ladies! After the longest fake out ever, Monique, who had the better wig reveal, was saved as well. She fell to the floor harder than any death drop I have ever seen, it was more of a death splat. I really thought she died for a second.

This effectively negates the last three episodes. Latrice was eliminated, then no one was eliminated for two weeks and Latrice came back. Riveting stuff.

[kurogabae]

Tsubasa: Trainwreck Chronicles

And Why Bee Train Personally Owes Me At Least a Grand; an Essay by Popular Demand

part 1 part 2

For those of you who might not know, I love Tsubasa Chronicle. So much. But for the love of Kurogane’s beautiful biceps is the anime awful. Now, I’m not one of those “manga purists” who always insists the manga is better than the anime, I tend to find them equal pretty often. This is not one of those cases.

Once upon a time CLAMP made a deal with Bee Train for a Tsubasa anime. Cardcaptor Sakura had done so well! CLAMP was a solid name to back! Bee Train had nothing to lose - except the trust of every CLAMP fan ever. I don’t know how hands on CLAMP (or rather Ohkawa) were in the production but I feel like “not at all” is a fairly solid guess. It was a mess folks. Production was rushed, story was disregarded, plot was cut up and Frankensteined back together, I’m not even going to talk about the English casting.

In fairness, it wasn’t without it’s good points. The soundtrack was flawless, the Japanese cast was amazing, and when Bee Train tried they really did manage to make the series look nice, which imo makes the rest of the subpar animation even more of a slap to the face. They even had some genuinely enjoyable filler episodes - the chibi episode and the Kero and Mokona episode are always the first to come to my mind - but overall? Not even a hot mess, just a mess. 

Under the cut we’ll go arc by arc. I’m not going to rewatch the series just to write this so forgive me if I’m missing facts or if something I say is slightly inaccurate. Also, beware of spoilers for the manga if you haven’t finished reading it. That means you Nick. I’ll write you up a spoiler free copy of this later. Anyway, let’s go.

Opening and introductions:

You’d think, as the start of your series, you’d want the first episode or two to look really nice right? Catch the eye, impress the new viewer. Not Bee Train! [x x] The whole thing is subpar at best. Syaoran and Sakura’s introduction isn’t so bad for the most part, they’re cute and Bee Train tried to add a little more interaction between them before Sakura loses her feathers, which I am all kinds of behind, but... there’s a point where they run from castle guards. And Syaoran sort of just... grabs her and runs and Sakura is left literally flapping in the wind? [x] Also Sakura looks stoned out of her mind in like 90% of the shots she’s in. Touya probably thinks Syaoran is giving her drugs. But honestly, I don’t have too many problems with how the intro happens, mostly just the way it looks.

Fai’s intro can go by with almost no comment aside from the fact that his face looks like it’s melting. Sadly, this is not the worse his face will ever look. Pretty meh.

Personally I think Kurogane’s intro got the short end of the stick visually and I’m not just saying that because he and Tomoyo are my favorites. They both look pretty awful and, as always, where’s the beef???

Also Yuuko deserved better. 

Hanshin:

If possible, the animation gets even lazier. We’ve added Mokona to the party and they cannot decide how big she is. I’m not being nitpicky either. Her size fluctuates wildly. Here are just a few examples set only in Hanshin. This problem persists throughout the series. Also I don’t know how to exactly put this into words but... everyone’s eyes are just extra jacked up. 

Plot wise we mostly follow canon. Until they decide Sakura should get more screen time. “Great idea!” I can hear you say. “We love Sakura!” Well so do I. Problem: she has one (1) feather to her name and is comatose. Sakura is not really going to do anything. Yet the camera keeps going back to her- oh wait she’s awake. Sort of. Oh she’s getting dressed now, we even get a very weird little montage of her trying on clothes. Now she’s wandering the town, meets up with the leader of the Mohawk Gang whose kudan Kurogane beat the crap out of. Luckily she’s a super cute girl (who is barely conscious and doesn’t even talk? She’s so far from Mokona she probably can’t even understand these guys anyway but...) so they take her out to lunch instead of doing something Terrible. To the restaurant Touya works at. He serves her and doesn’t recognize her, meaning there is no Sakura in this world, at least not one related to him. This happens a lot.

In the anime Sakura is sometimes, for reasons unexplained and inconsistent, “drawn” to her feathers. She’s looking for her feather. There is an absurd Looney Tunes moment where she climbs some sort of tall thing (oil rig? construction site? world’s weirdest flag pole?) and jumps off of it before Syaoran and Co. (who have located her after Arashi, who would never have lost track of her in the first place let’s be real, tells them she’s gone AWOL) can stop her.

And then she flies. Literally and truly fucking flies. Through the sky. Thanks I hate it. 

Syaoran catches her, brings her back home, and the story pretty much continues. One fun change was that the whole family had to share a room, they didn’t get separated like in the manga, so we get treated to this Gay Fucking Scene(tm) of Kurogane waking up and the first thing he sees if Fai sleeping while angelic music plays in the background. So that was nice.

Oh god hang on, I had to come back and add this because I literally always forget: Kurogane sees a version of Tomoyo in this world and goes running after her, leaving Fai and Syaoran to meet Touya and Yukito on their own. This results in both of them missing Kurogane’s kudan fight and Kurogane missing the “same face, different person” talk/reminder. They still can’t draw Tomoyo. 

Also this.

Koryo:

Where’s the beef?

Much in the spirit of Hanshin, Koryo keeps mostly to the plot and has overall meh animation with a few choice moments of dear god why. Surprisingly, they made a few changes that I didn’t hate - the village had gotten a group of rebels together against the Ryanban. He also stole Chu’nyan’s mother’s body, making it so that her spirit could never find peace, making him even more of a dick.

This is where we see the first instance of the anime really being geared towards younger audiences than CLAMP had planned for. In the manga Sakura wins everyone new clothes via dice gambling, but in the anime she wins a lottery. Not a big deal, but we see more of this. Another thing change is that there’s a whole secondary plot added to everything when they try to, again, give Sakura a more active role. There are better ways to do this, but Bee Train sort of just tosses her into action and then tosses Syaoran in after her. It’s always bad and pointless and never amounts to anything. 

Anyway, she ends up inside the castle, somehow Syaoran manages to follow after her. Goodness knows what the dads are up to. (Probably this.) Some Really Weird Stuff happens and from what I remember the spirit of Chu-nyan’s mother hops a ride out of the castle with Sakura. Who, uhh, teleports her and Syaoran out. Yeah.

The rest of the arc goes pretty much how the manga does with a handful of minor changes - like the fact that Kurogane never bought a manga in Hanshin, so in order to block Kiishim’s killing blow he’s tucked the hammer he was using to fix the roof in his shirt, which is a much smaller shield than a whole ass book and I think that’s dumb. Still can’t get Mokona’s size right, to awkward and hilarious results.

And remember kids, we won’t show you dice but we will show you this.

Big Lake and Shipper Fish:

The animation in this part is actually pretty nice. Considering. The things they changed were needless and weird.

Sakura and the fish talk. How? Why? We don’t know, it’s never explained or examined. We are meant to accept it Because Sakura, which only works most of the time. The fish tries to tell Sakura that she knows Syaoran - we all know this will not and cannot work. Why does this happen? What was the point of adding this? It is so weird and awkward. It messes up the flow and is so extra. I understand your desires Shipper Fish, but please, let things take their course.

Jade:

Fuck you and fuck your animation. It looks The Worst, which is a bummer because this world changes the fewest amount of things. Anything I could point out are really minor:

somehow Fai can read

they never show how the family gets their clothes, and 99% of the scene in the tavern is skipped

breaking and entering!

Mokona bites Kurogane in the ass

they don’t have horses

no Kuro-dork looking at the snow like an excited child

they nerf Kurogane’s BAMF

the feather isn’t hidden behind a wall, they need the pure hearts of children?

Kyle was a way lazier villain 

Filler #1 - Lightning Jazz Hands:

Alright, that looked neat as hell, I’ll admit. My compliments end here.

Story: nosy little shits got themselves cursed. Gonna fight in a competition to win a Big Magic. Is the Big Magic a feather? Stay tuned! (It’s not, because then the girl would die and that would be Too Sad.)

So the people in this country can shoot lightning out of their hands, that would be awesome and possibly scary, but I guess Kurogane is water/ground type because he gets it and only says, and I quote, “it tingles”. So your lightning powers mean nothing, add no stakes, and the Fam can’t do it so what is the point?

This filler is also famous for its KuroFai baiting, which is impressive, seeing as the anime tried very hard to make them Not Gay. I mean it failed but yeah.

Syaoran is the only fighter they have left because Kurogane and Fai are children and Sakura is making friends with the cursed girl. Keefer... Keepha... fights Syaoran, and obviously Syaoran wins because we’re supposed to think this is a feather. They really play it up to, even after we learn the Big Magic isn’t a feather Syaoran still hesitates before handing it over. For dramatics I guess? I don’t know, there’s literally no reason for him to not give it to the needy couple.

Boring filler. Only fun was watching Kurogane get excited over fighting people.

tbc... with Outo

[part 1] [part 2]

[lovinglohst]

I Wanna Dance With Somebody: Chapter 1- The Shittiest Night Of Our Lives

Story Pairings: Boyf riends, Pinkberry, RichJake

Chapter Characters: Michael Mells, Brooke Lohst, Jeremy Heere

Chapter Warnings: Panic Attack (think that's it)

Summary: On the night of the Halloween Party, Michael is about halfway through having his infamous panic attack when Brooke comes tumbling into the bathroom, in the middle of her very own teenage angst. Michael lets her stay and the two sit in the bathtub and bond over their anger at their friends/super-mega-crushes. That’s when they get the idea to start fake dating to both get back at Jeremy and Chloe and win them over. Chaos, bonding, and gay ensue.

Authors’ Note: So we got this idea for a BMC fic and decided why not. To be absolutely clear- Michael and Brooke are not endgame. They’re just cute, platonic chaos gays. Enjoy! - Aly and Nik

AO3 Link 

“He went crazy trying to get it out !”

The air in the bathroom turned ice cold. Michael could feel his heart beating in his chest rapidly as if he’d drank one can too many of Red Bull. It was hard for him to believe that the boy standing in front of him was the same boy who’d been his best friend since pre-school. Because the Jeremy Heere before him was almost unrecognizable.

“Then I have nothing to worry about. Why would I want that?” The words cut into him, and Michael could feel small cracks forming in his heart. Jeremy looked away from him, jaw set as he moved for the door. Michael moved with him, refusing to let this go. Jeremy was going to end up hurt if he didn’t do something. He just had to make him listen . “Move.”

“Or you’ll what?”

“Get out of my way. Loser. ” Michael stared directly into those blue eyes. They were as cold as ice, glaring into Michael’s like he was a bug under his shoe. His chest felt heavy, his heart beginning to ache as it tried to jump from his chest. Holding back thick tears, he moved out of Jeremy’s way silently. The boy brushed past him, purposefully knocking Michael’s shoulder with his own as he left Michael behind. He didn’t even glance back, slamming the door shut. Michael flinched at the sound, letting out a shaky breath. His entire body felt numb as he stared at the wall blankly. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, hecouldn’tbreathe- whycouldn’thebreathe-

“Hello?!” A sharp knock cut through the air, pulling Michael from his daze. “Some of us have to pee!”

“I’m having my period!” He called weakly, wanting to slam his face into the wall. Idiot, absolutefuckingidiot .

“...Take your time honey.” The voice answered gently, and Michael let out another ragged breath. He needed to sit down. His legs could barely hold him upright, his knees like jelly. He felt around blindly, his hand curling around the cool, porcelain of the bathtub. He guided himself into it, breath coming in short, rapid gasps.

He felt pathetic -he was pathetic- sitting here all by himself. He was in a fucking bathroom at the biggest party of the year, while Jeremy was out there having the time of his life. He’d probably found someone new to hang out with, someone to replace Michael. Like he was some broken toy.

The thought made him begin to shake uncontrollably, his vision narrowing till all he saw was the smooth bottom of the tub, his ears filled with the loud thumping of his still racing heart and some girl singing to a Whitney Houston song outside the door. The type of girl he and Jeremy would usually make fun of…

Michael pulled his knees to his chest, burrowing his head in between them. He was going to be sick, he just knew it. Everything was so loud, tooloud- ohgoditwastooloudmakeitstopplease-

A sudden, high-pitched shriek made him jump, head snapping up to see-

Oh, you had to be fucking kidding me right now …

Standing in front of him was Brooke Lohst, in all her glory. She was wearing the skimpiest dog costume he’d ever laid eyes on, with almost everything on display. It was everything a teenage boy could’ve wanted. Except for him. Everything he’d ever wanted had just told him he was a loser and then left him without a second glance.

“What are you doing in here?” Brooke questioned, her voice hollow and broken. It was only then that Michael realized that she was crying. Her usually flawless makeup was coming down her cheeks in streaks, face flushed a depressing shade of red as she stared at him with as much poise as a crying girl in a poodle costume could muster. He stared at her for a minute, trying to get his voice box to work.

“Having the shittiest night of my life.” He answered finally, resting his chin on top of his knees. Brooke slowly raised her hand, wiping at the makeup-stained tear marks on her cheeks.

“Same.” They sat there in silence for a moment, Michael silently debating what to do. Sure he kind of hated Brooke- not only because she was a bully but because she stole Jeremy from him- but she looked as shitty as he felt, which was concerning.

“Do you… do you wanna get in the tub with me?” He asked hesitantly, watching Brooke’s face twist in disgust. He quickly realized how that sounded, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “N-Not like that. Just-”

Groaning, he buried his face back in his knees. He wanted the Earth to just open up and swallow him whole, just to get out of this awkward situation. After a few moments, he heard Brooke’s slow footsteps coming closer. Lifting his head, he watched as she lowered herself into the opposite end of the tub carefully. She pulled her almost completely bare legs to her chest, the tags on the collar around her neck jingling quietly as she placed her chin on her knees in a position that mirrored his.

This was officially simultaneously the worst and weirdest night of his life.

“Am I ugly or something?” Brooke asked suddenly, making Michael pause. When he didn’t offer a reply, Brooke gazed directly into his eyes with fresh tears already forming. “No, seriously? Like, am I just hideous to look at?”

Michael’s mouth opened and closed quite a few time before he could force the ‘no’ from his throat. Looking dissatisfied, Brooke wiped at her cheek again.

“Then what is it about me that makes guys want to cheat on me? I don’t get what’s wrong with me.” Her voice broke, fresh tears beginning to fall again. “I try so hard, so fucking hard so that people will like me. I’m beautiful, I’m popular, I’m on the honor roll. But it doesn’t even matter, does it? All anyone is ever going to see me as is ‘Brooke Lohst, second best’. My own supposed ‘best friend’ doesn’t even respect me enough to not screw the guys I’m dating! And I just-”

Brooke let out an ugly sob, placing a hand over her eyes. Tears continue to slide between her fingertips, the small droplets plopping quietly on to the tub’s white floor.

“I’ve had a crush on my best friend for four years,” He admitted quietly, turning away when Brooke’s green eyes found his. “And tonight, he basically told me that I wasn’t good enough for him anymore. E-Even after all the things we’ve been through. Twelve years of him being my friend- my only friend- and he just throws it all away.”

Michael didn’t take his gaze off the sink, though he could feel Brooke watching him still.

“It’s definitely not the same thing, but it sucks just as much,” He let out a hollow laugh, tears coming down his face even quicker. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Then I guess we’re both pretty pathetic.” She answered, and Michael finally turned to look at her. She gave him a sad smile, sticking out her ‘paw-glove’ clad hand. “Brooke Lohst.”

“Nice to meet you, Brooke,” He shook her hand, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the absurdity of the situation. He was in a bathtub, at a party with the second most popular girl at school. “I’m Michael Mell.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael.”

“I don’t get how this is supposed to help,” Brooke whined, stabbing her straw into her slushie. She looked completely ridiculous in a poodle costume, sat upon the hood of Michael’s shitty 2007 PT Cruiser and holding a bright blue slushie in the 7-11 parking lot at two o’clock in the morning. Michael sat beside her, slurping on his red one like it was the last one he’d ever have.

“The cold helps to freeze your heart so that you can’t feel any more pain.” Michael joked, shrugging sarcastically. Brooke giggled, taking a hesitant sip of the ice cold drink. “Good?”

“I like Pinkberry better,” She sighed, taking another long sip of the slushie. “But this is okay, for now.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Michael hummed, fiddling with his straw. Music was coming from his headphone, the faded sound of Bob Marley helping to fill the comfortable silence between the two.

“Tomorrow?” Brooke questioned, turning to look at him.

“O-Oh, I just kinda assumed- I mean-” Brooke giggled at his flustered expression, nudging him with her arm.

“I would love to hang out with you tomorrow. Not like I have anywhere else to be…” She trailed off quietly, staring at the bright neon sign on the store in front of them for a long while. “Do you…”

“Do I…?”

“Do you think that stupid computer made him cheat on me?” She asked, sounding a little hopeful. It had taken a while to convince Brooke about the SQUIP, mostly because of how ridiculous it sounded, but she'd quickly come around at the slight chance that yet another boyfriend cheating on her hadn't actually been her fault. Michael glanced down at her, straw between his teeth.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. That fucking thing is making Jeremy act all kinds of weird.” Michael's leg began to bounce, sitting still becoming to constricting. “Whoever that person is… it’s not Jeremy. Jeremy- the Jeremy I know- is kind, and funny and smart. I mean, yeah, he’s a bit of a tool sometimes- but he cares . He cares so much.”

Brooke blinks at him owlishly.

“You’re so gay it’s not even funny,” Brooke said finally, and Michael couldn’t help the laugh the ripped its way from his throat. Brooke joined in, giggling furiously. And in that moment, they weren’t the school stoner and the second-hottest girl in school. They were just Michael and Brooke, two very gay (bi, in Brooke’s case), very lonely kids who had found someone who understood them just a bit better than everyone else.

“You know what we should do?” Brooke gazed at him mischievously, laughter still bubbling in her throat.

“What?” Michael asked teasingly.

“We should date, just to make them jealous.” Michael looked at her sideways, tilting his head in confusion.

“Brooke, you realize I’m strictly into dudes, right? Like you’re amazing, don’t get me wrong. But you kinda don’t have the right… parts for me.”

Rolling her eyes, the girl slid off the hood of the car, dramatically placing her hands on her hips.

“I know that, silly. I didn’t mean we should actually date .” Brooke wrinkled her nose on the word, her tone suggesting she found the whole idea revolting.

“Feeling really flattered here, Lohst.” He said dryly, slurping his drink.

“You know what I mean! I just mean that we should pretend. Make them think we’re dating. Show them how happy we are without them!” Michael considered her words, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

“Do you really think that’ll work?” He asked, considering the girl. She had a determined fire glowing in her green eyes, smirking at him like a wolf closing in on its prey. It was… unsettling to say the least.

“It worked for Chloe and Jake last year. She fake-dated Dustin Kropp to make him jealous, and they got back together the next month. It’s totally fool-proof!”

Despite Brooke’s confidence, Michael couldn’t help but feel a nervous pit in his stomach. It didn’t sound as simple to him as it probably did to Brooke. She’d dated a bunch of guys (and a girl or two) before, but Michael had only ever loved and wanted one person. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Not with Jeremy probably watching his every move.

But why would he watch you? He asked himself, feeling cold. He’s made it very clear that he thinks you’re beneath him. So why not make him regret it?

Looking at Brooke’s expectant face, he nodded firmly.

“I’m in.” He proclaimed determinedly. Brooke squealed loudly, throwing her arms around his neck roughly. Michael paused for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Brooke’s small frame. It felt nice to be hugged like this- like she cared about him. It had been a while since he and Jeremy had done something like that, his heart clenching at the thought. He held onto Brooke tightly for a long while, before pulling back reluctantly.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” She giggled, pulling back to smile at him brightly. She brandished her slushie at him proudly. “To our new relationship!”

Michael smirked a little, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“To our new relationship.”

Chapter 2 --->

[scripturehomosexuality]

The “Gay” Media Blind Spot: HIV Cases Increasing Worldwide

I’m writing this as a followup to the 2016 STD Bump in the United States. As I’ve just found out, HIV rises aren’t just happening in the U.S. They’re happening all over the world. And the “gay” media is acting like it doesn’t exist.

While reading through the international press in early June, I came across a certain item from Chile. The story originally came from Agence France-Presse (AFP), though I personally encountered it through a Caribbean newspaper. Other news outlets in Europe, Africa, East Asia and Southeast Asia also carried the story. From what I can see, U.S. outlets haven’t carried it at all.

For some strange reason, AFP junked the story just a week after publishing it. If you try to look for it, you won’t find it there. Thus, I had to go back to that same Caribbean newspaper to analyze it, where you can read the story here.

The article details alarming developments in the HIV situation in Chile. According to the article, almost 6,000 new cases of HIV were diagnosed in 2017. The majority of the new victims are young people aged 15 to 29. Meanwhile, according to a TeleSUR story from last month, 7,000 new cases have been diagnosed so far this year.

The same story says that at present, the total number of Chilean HIV victims is 100,000. That’s a 64% increase from levels in 2016, when according to the UN, the total number infected was 61,000. So either the number of new cases were undercounted, or the 2016 UN estimate was very conservative.

Those same UN statistics show that, unsurprisingly, the majority of new and existing cases are “gay” men and other men who have sex with men (MSM). However, the AFP story shows a new and frightening twist - that women are increasingly getting infected too. This is because, as the article describes, “many of [the young people are] blurring the lines between gay and heterosexual relations.”

Now, that line validates what this blog has said about same-sex activity in the developing world. As shown in this post, same-sex activity is already a widespread and frequent phenomena throughout that world. It’s been that way for hundreds and thousands of years. It’s just that their traditional model historically rejected anal play.  They rejected it because anal was considered a gender-bending act, since the penetrated male was “acting like a woman”. Plus, because those regions still define “sex” in terms of penetration, such activity wasn’t even considered full “sex”.

Since it’s common and non-penetrative, the traditional model isn’t considered “homosexuality” in those regions. In fact, as far as I know, it isn’t identified by any particular name. Instead, “homosexuality” refers to the anal-centric LGBT sex model, and particularly to male-male anal sex. As such, the traditional model isn’t incompatible with having sex with women.

So because of the traditional same-sex model, the developing world has been effectively bisexual for some time. Evidently, this has been the case in Chile too. The difference is that certain young men, seduced by LGBT advocacy in their country, are increasingly including anal in their male-male interactions. They then spread it to their girlfriends and other women through sex with them. That’s what the articles and data strongly suggest. Otherwise, STDs would have always been a problem.

Chile isn’t alone. Brazil has been been having its own troubles. 2016 is the latest year for which we have statistics, so we’ll refer to those. According to the New York Times, there were 48,000 new HIV cases during 2016. There were already 830,000 Brazilians infected with HIV during that year. which means the total jumped by 5%. Keep in mind that we still don’t have statistics for 2017.

As with Chile, the largest rise occurred among the young, between ages 15 to 24. Men are disproportionately affected, which suggests that “gays” and MSM have the majority of cases. However, women are also getting affected, as they also have sex with those men. This is because, since it’s part of the developing world, dynamics in Brazil closely resemble those in Chile.

The increases aren’t limited to Latin America and the Caribbean. Even as deaths from AIDS are decreasing overall, HIV infections are rising throughout the world. CNN reported that over the past decade, there have been increases in 74 countries. The most pronounced ones happened in Central and South America, South Asia, the Middle East, and Eastern Europe. Though the increase is partially attributable to drug use (particularly in Eastern Europe), the majority of new cases still occur among “gays” and MSM.

However, I’ve yet to touch the most outrageous part - the deafening silence of the “gay” media on this story.

I’m not saying this lightly. I’ve tried to find “gay” media output on this, but it’s nowhere in sight. There’s nothing on Chile in the Advocate, Queerty, Gay Star News, Out Magazine, or Pink News. These are some of the biggest “gay” outlets in the world, yet there’s nothing on this massacre. Nor is there anything on Brazil on those websites, except for a small item in Gay Star News that superficially covers it.

As for the situation worldwide, you also find virtually nothing. The exception is a video from the Advocate, which cherry picks information detailed in the CNN report. The video completely ignores the bad news, which is the continuing and escalating rise in HIV infection. Instead, it focuses only on positive developments, making the stupefying claim that “we're winning the worldwide fight against AIDS”.

After doing all this research, I had to take a break. That headline would be so funny if it wasn’t so utterly fraudulent.

We’re winning the worldwide fight against AIDS? Really? In what universe? If we were winning, rates of HIV infection wouldn’t be increasing.

Meanwhile, these outlets diligently report bias attacks that happen around the world, including in the countries mentioned. To be clear, I’m not saying that they shouldn’t do that. In this aspect, they are doing their job. However, they ignore possible factors spurring these attacks. If you believed these outlets, you’d think that these attacks are driven by blind illogical hatred for all same-sex activity.

Let me make a modest suggestion. Is it possible that those bias attacks are driven by these disease statistics, at least in part? Especially when these diseases were previously unknown, and mainly appeared when LGBT advocacy arrived in their countries? Especially when anal was previously unknown in those countries? Especially when scientific evidence shows that anal, the practice they want to increase, is mainly responsible for HIV transmission during sex?

As I did research for this post, I noticed something. More often than not, countries reporting HIV increases also reported increases in bias attacks. That’s especially the case in Brazil, where murders of LGBT-identified people reached an all-time high last year. The same has occurred in Chile, where 2017 was called the “year of rage” against “gays”. That has blatantly been the case in Russia, which has also registered a sharp uptick in HIV cases in recent years.

I’m not justifying random violence on LGBT-identified people. Nor am I encouraging blind persecution of those who have HIV. My point is, when analyzing why “gays” are attacked in those countries, we must consider these statistics. If we don’t, we might be ignoring a huge factor. Think about it. You see HIV increasing in your country. With your own eyes, you see the horror that it can cause. At the same time, you see “gay” groups openly and endlessly advocating anal sex. Available evidence shows that anal is highly effective at spreading HIV.

With all those factors combined, isn’t it logical that someday, grief over HIV may turn into anger against “gays”? Especially when behavior spreading it isn’t native to those countries? To be clear, I definitely don’t support attacks on random “gay” people. However, I also can’t blame those residents for being so upset, even if the anger is expressed in extremely harmful ways.

I also don’t think that victims of HIV should be stigmatized. They need help, not stigma. They indeed support, medication, and love. At the same time, we should be doing everything possible to end its transmission, so that others won’t be harmed. This must include changes in behavior. That’s what socially responsible movements do - analyze if its own actions are worsening the issue. If the “gay” movement refuses to consider that kind of change, they are part of the problem.

To not look so complacent, “gay” advocacy groups push the absurd demand for more condoms. The truth is, it really doesn’t matter whether condoms are used en masse or not. Condoms can tear, and because the anus is rougher than the vagina, condoms tear much more easily inside the anus. In other words, condoms give a false sense of security.

That’s not all. Because of that false sense of security, those “gay” men might do anal more than they would otherwise. This results in a paradox: by using condoms, “gay” men feel free to increasingly do something that can make them tear. This in turn increases the risk of HIV transmission. So in sum, mass condom use doesn’t decrease HIV risk, but actually increases it.

There’s only one way to surely decrease HIV transmission - stop doing behavior that spreads it. As in, “gays” must stop having anal sex (and other forms of anal play) altogether. It’s simply too risky.

There’s one more factor to consider, which wasn’t mentioned in the last STD post. As mentioned before, the new infections usually occur in young people. They weren’t born when this epidemic started in 1981. Many of them also weren’t born with the virus, but acquired it later in life. This means that on a fundamental level, HIV activism has failed miserably. Instead of staying with one generation, the virus is now being spread to a new one. HIV has become the “gift” that keeps on giving.

This guarantees that we will be dealing with this for another 40 years, at least. This means that, contrary to the Advocate headline, we’re not winning the war on AIDS. We’re not even close. Even as you read this, a new generation is getting infected, and the “gay” media is dead silent.

Does the “gay” movement not realize that through their willful ignorance, they are chaining our young people for life? Do they not see that this is morally reprehensible? Do they not comprehend how vile and nauseating this is?

Worst of all, outlets discouraging anal are struggling to spread their message. This website, the Man2Man Alliance, and the g0ys have all been censored and hindered on various platforms. I have endured many personal attacks while trying to advertise this blog on Reddit. At one point, some rogue employee(s) at Tumblr vigorously tried to shut this website down. The Man2Man Alliance has suffered similar attacks. In many cases, the “gay” movement plays a big role in that censorship and sabotage.

Yet, the “gay” movement can spread their message much more easily, even as it increases disease transmission. And they have the nerve to label us as homophobic!

Thus, I will repeat the same message I said in the past article: if you want healthy advice on same-sex activity, don’t listen to the “gay” media or the “gay” leadership. They are morally bankrupt, and apparently love anal sex more than life itself.

Instead, listen to those who don’t insist on doing anal, such as the g0y movement and the Man2Man Alliance. They have the intellectual integrity to explain how anal increases STD risk. They show that hierarchies of risk do exist, and that certain modes of contact carry low STD risk. You’ll be much more able to avoid STDs by using their advice.

If you’re not “gay” yourself, don’t wantonly attack those who identify as LGBT. That will only drive them further into the arms of the “gay” leadership. Also, don’t lump all same-sex activity in the same category as anal. That will only feed into their narrative, that they are the only ones championing all same-sex activity.

Instead, show them alternatives to the anal sex model. The g0ys and Man2Man Alliance will help considerably with that. I’m sure they will appreciate that their same-sex attraction isn’t as problematic as they think.

If you want to try it yourself, this site will be more than willing to help you.

Thus, I urge you to read further here, to explore another way to think about same-sex activity. I urge you to read “The ‘Straight’-’Gay’ Dichotomy: How It Works”, to fully understand how that system functions. I also urge any who read this to go to “For Straight People (though not exclusively)”, which will point to philosophies and forms of same-sex behavior that don’t hinge on demonstratively false concepts. Also read the page “History of the Concept of Homosexuality”, to see how this concept evolved into its modern day meaning. Don’t be afraid of talking about what you learn to others, because that’s the only way progress will be made.

Other approaches to same-sex activity are possible. The “gay” movement doesn’t have a monopoly on it, and it won’t if you don’t allow it.

[everettaddamsmacleod-blog]

The Player of Games - Review and Deconstruction I

So, in this whole “a friend is paying me to review books” deal, as it turns out, I need to actually review the book. So- The Player of Games, is it any good?

Yeah. Good book. Well written, tightly structured, asks fun questions. Don’t expect to fall in love with any characters. If you’ve ever wondered about the problem of ennui in Fully Automated Gay Space Communism, I have a book for you!

But I suppose the more interesting thing to write about is - what is there to get out of the book? Why, other than the joy of Iain Bank’s calvinball scenes, should someone read this?

Because it’s 2018 and like most things, the book’s about gender identity, masculinity and the allure of fascism1.

The breeze was cold and freshening under ragged clouds. Out to sea, beyond Hassease village, where the weather was coming from, he could see tall veils of rain under a dark front of storm clouds.2

Side note: I wrote a lot about this book, so I’m splitting it up into three parts. When I get all of them up I’ll edit in links. Part II: Azad: Vicious but Sexy Part III: Getting the Girl Handsome Androgynous Person

From this point forward, I assume knowledge of the text. So, spoiler warning.

Part 1 - Gurgeh’s a Dick

This was my second time through this book, and so I got to notice a lot of details I didn’t during my audiobook listen of it. I got to pick up on the significance of the names Possession and Stricken for games. I noticed how the three main boards of Azad paralleled the three main sections of the book: the Board of Origin (Gurgeh at Ikroh, introduction of the Culture and Gurgeh’s discontent), the Board of Form (Proper introduction of Azadian culture, and Gurgeh’s immersion into it), and the Board of Becoming (Gurgeh embraces his own Culture-al values). I also got to notice Flere-Imsaho’s machinations to manipulate Gurgeh, his bird watching habit, and a number of other details I missed on my initial listen.

Like this one other thing I noticed about this book: Castration comes up a lot.

Aha! A motif.

The first time it is mentioned explicitly comes while Mahwrin-Skel/Flere-Imsaho is in the midst of blackmailing Gurgeh to contact Contact and speak on its behalf. Reading this a second time, it is clear that the drone is very consciously and meticulously manipulating Gurgeh here- the drone hasn’t really been expelled from Special Circumstances, it doesn’t actually need Gurgeh to do this for it’s sake, this is all part of the ruse to get Gurgeh on the voyage to Azad. And so, in stating its case, in getting Gurgeh to have the strong emotional response that would compel him to act, Mahwrin-Skel is appealing to Gurgeh’s own sense of impotence and frustration with the Culture’s somewhat neutered mode of existence, all while Gurgeh has been literally paralyzed.

“Don’t you know what they’ve done to me, man?” the machine said, shaking him. “I’ve been castrated, spayed, paralyzed! How you feel now; helpless, knowing the limbs are there but unable to make them work! Like that, but knowing that they aren’t there! Can you understand that?”3

Then, as Gurgeh is beginning to get a sense of how Azad really works with real players and what this society values, he accompanies Shohobohohaum Za to - well, lets just call it a den of iniquity. There they witness a fight where a female Azadian - the first female Azadian we have seen be anything other than submissive and demure - wrestling a strange alien.

The audience behind them went “Oooo”. Za and Gurgeh turned round to see the victorious woman pulling her opponent’s body up out of the mud by its penis; the aliens being’s head and feet were still under the glutinous, slowly slopping liquid. “Ouch,” Za muttered, drinking.

Somebody in the crowd tossed the woman a dagger; she caught it, stooped, and sliced off the alien genitals. She brandished the dripping flesh aloft while the crowd went wild with delight and the alien sank slowly beneath the cloying red liquid, the woman’s foot on its chest. The mud gradually turned black where the blood oozed, and a few bubbles surfaced.4

And here Gurgeh gets to see literal castration. Given the space it’s given in the text, I think we can infer that this scene- wherein a woman supposedly selected for docile servility in this culture - violently slices off alien dick, makes an impact on Gurgeh. Indeed it does:

“I believe you are a male.”

“Yes,” Gurgeh said. His palms started to sweat.

“My bet is castration. Removal of the male member and testes against apicial gelding, on this one game on the Board of Origin. Do you accept?”

“I--” Gurgeh swallowed, but his mouth stayed dry. It was absurd; he was in no real danger. The Limiting Factor would rescue him; or he could just go through with it; he would feel no pain, and genitalia were some of the faster regrowing parts of the body… but still the room seemed to warp and distort in from of him, and he had a sudden, sickening vision of cloying red liquid, slowly staining black, bubbling… “Yes!” he blurted, forcing it out. “Yes,” he said to the Adjudicator.5

And so our castration setup begins its full payoff as Gurgeh is pressed into a body bet to progress further in the Azad tournament. Directly after accepting this bet, Gurgeh loses hope of winning this game, he loses the will to do so, and we learn that Olz Hap, the young woman who nearly beat Gurgeh at a game in the beginning of the book, has “produced the Ultimate Stricken result.” A final strike that leaves Gurgeh “unsure what to know, or think, or remember, or even be.”

But what did Gurgeh think he was before this?

For starters, an indefeatable game player, the best that the Culture has to offer. And, crucially, male.

“I feel you want to...take me.” Yay said, “like a piece, like an area. To be had; to be...possessed.” Suddenly she looked very puzzled. “There’s something very… I don’t know; primitive, perhaps, about you, Gurgeh. You’ve never changed sex, have you?” He shook his head. “Or slept with a man?” Another shake. “I thought so,” Yay said. “You’re strange, Gurgeh.”6

Most of the Culture seems to change gender with a fluid nonchalance. It gets mentioned in the background rather frequently - so-and-so is changing, this person spent so many years as a man, don’t let the aliens dissect your junk because the way we made it easily change is a state secret, etc. Gurgeh has some discomfort with the idea, however, and has avoided it. He’s even vaguely concerned to notice that six of the ten former lovers that showed up to bid him farewell became and stayed men. To Gurgeh, gender identity, his gender identity - his masculinity - is an essential part of him, and he fears losing (or not fulfilling) it.

This is also entwined with the other thing that sets him apart from the rest of the Culture: His drive to possess, to dominate. He plays games with conversations that make an unwitting opponent of someone he means to shame, to dominate, for fun. He is goaded into cheating at Stricken by the thought of not just winning, not just beating his opponent, but dominating the game itself by obtaining the Full Web victory condition. While he says his reputation isn't something that matters to him, it clearly does, as his reaction to the thought of being caught cheating is to threaten suicide. His position as the Culture’s dominant game-player is clearly very dear to him. I think the only reason he doesn’t like the shooting game at the very start of the book is that he’s not good at it- he can’t dominate.

This is also apparent with how he approaches relationships with women - he’s there to dominate, possess them, according to Yay. We also get to see him with Ren, and there he also displays more possessive traits while having sex with her. His bristling at the transitioning of his former lovers and his approach to women shows that he sees female-ness, femininity, as an important trait as well- one that has a role that he wants it to play. Namely, submission and passivity, even if he would attest otherwise. His subconscious desires and assumptions make themselves known. Femininity is there to be possessed and dominated by masculinity. Domination and possession are traits he codes as masculine, and so he values them as part of his identity as male.

So I think its clear that even before the body-bet happens, one of Gurgeh’s driving fears is emasculation and fluidity of gender roles.

Also the nature of truth and reality, which makes it even more relevant in 2018, but since I don’t really get in to that topic, I thought I’d leave it out of the opener.

Banks, Iain M. The Player of Games. Orbit, 2008. p. 67. get it, has-ease village but theres a storm a-brewin?

Ibid, p. 70

Ibid, p. 197-198

Ibid, p.  249-250

Ibid, p.  28

Aaand theres where I’m leaving off for today. Tumblrs text editor is not that fun. Tune in next time for a ramble about fascism.

Links to the other ones:

Part I: Gurgeh’s a dick

Part II: Azad: Vicious but Sexy

Part III: Getting the Girl Handsome Androgynous Person

[loudlytransparenttrash]

10 Ways Of Overcoming The Social Justice Stranglehold

It’s no mistake that cultural Marxists in the form of social justice warriors and feminists tend to create artificial divisions between people and “classes” while attacking and homogenizing very real and natural divisions between individuals based on biological reality and inherent genetic and psychological ability.

They do this most commonly by designated arbitrary “victim status” to various classes, dividing them from each other based on how “oppressed” they supposedly are. The less statistically prominent a particular group is (less represented in a job field, media, education, population, etc) in any western society based on their color, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, etc, generally the more victim group status is handed to them by social justice gatekeepers. Whites and males (straight males) are of course far at the very bottom of their list of people who have reason to complain and are repeatedly targeted and attacked by SJW organizations and web mobs as purveyors of some absurd theory called “The Patriarchy”.

It is not enough anymore to simply continue pointing out the insanity of political correctness, we must also take useful steps toward reversing the destruction already done.

Do you have leftist leaning friends or family members? It doesn’t matter. Are you employed in a workplace crawling with social justice ideologues? Stop seeing them as part of the equation because they do not matter. Worried about losing a relationship if you make a stand? Say good riddance. This is what must be done by free thinkers if they are to counter and reverse the collectivist nightmare of cultural Marxism. Here’s some solutions, which must be enacted by individuals in their daily lives regardless of the potential backlash:

1. Feel no shame

Social justice relies on shaming tactics, usually by slandering an opponent with a label that does not really apply to them in order to control the person’s arguments and behavior. If you don’t care about being called a bigot, a racist, a sexist, a misogynist, a homophobe, etc, because you know you aren’t, then there is not really much that they can do to you. They have overused these attacks to the point of having no meaning.

2. Do not self-censor

This does not mean you should go too far out of your way to act like an asshole, but the thought police have power only if you give power to them. Say what you want to say when you want to say it, and do it with a smile. Let them froth and scream until they have an aneurism. Cultural Marxists are generally piss-weak, anxiety-riddled children. They avoid physical confrontation like they avoid logic, so why fear them?

3. Realize there is no such thing as white privilege or male privilege

In reality, there is only institutionalized “privilege” for victim-status groups. There is no privilege for whites, males, white males or straight white males. When confronted with such claims, demand to see proof of such privilege. Invariably, you will get a long list of first world problems and complaints backed by nothing but easily debunked talking points and misrepresented statistics. People should not feel guilty for being born the way they are, and this includes those “darn white male devils”…

4. Demand facts to back claims

Cultural Marxists tend to argue on the basis of opinion and emotion rather than fact. Present facts to counter their claims, and demand facts and evidence in return. Opinions are irrelevant if the person is not willing to present supporting facts when asked. 9.5/10 you’re going to win the argument so don’t be afraid to confront their obvious exaggerations and fabrications.

5. Do not play the game of “unconscious bias”

If social justice cultists can’t counter your position with facts or logic, they will invariably turn to the old standby that you are limited in your insight because you have not lived in the shoes of a - (insert victim group here). I agree. In fact, I would point out that this reality of limited perception also applies to THEM as well. They have not lived in your shoes, therefore they are in no position to claim you enjoy “privilege” while they do not. They love to pretend that they know everything about everybody and therefore have the right to judge and position us all in the victim rankings. This is why facts and evidence are so important, and why anecdotal evidence and personal feelings are irrelevant where cultural Marxism is concerned.

6. Let them know their fears and feelings do not matter

No one is entitled to have their feelings coddled and normalized by others. Whether the issue is the nonexistent “boogeyman rape culture” or “racist white cops are going on purge-like killing sprees of young innocent black people”, their irrational and delusional fears are not our concern, it’s not society’s job to alleviate their phobia of men, straight people or white people, that is what psychotherapists are for. Why should any individual relinquish their liberties in the name of placating frightened nobodies?

7. Maintain your rights, they do not hurt other people

PC cultists will invariably argue that a certain group of people (we all know who that is), whether they know it or not, is indirectly harming others by essentially breathing and it’s up to them to recognize, apologize and change their oppressive ways. "We live in a society”, they say, “and everything we do affects everyone else…”. Don’t take such accusations seriously; these people do not understand how freedom works.

For instance, hypothetically as I don’t hold these views, that I refuse to bake a gay wedding cake for a couple. I would be accused of violating their rights but in reality I would only be preserving my own. I would have every right to not bake that cake if I didn’t want to, not a single person could make me. Also, I would point out that the gay couple in question has every right in a free society to bake their own cake or open their own cake shop to compete with mine. This is how freedom works. It is not based on collective entitlement; it is based on personal responsibility.

8. Refuse to deny the scientific fact of biological sex

Sexes are first and foremost genetic imperatives. Society does not determine gender roles; nature does. A man who gets his genitals removed and takes hormone pills is not and will never be a woman. A woman who tapes down her breasts and shaves her hair will never be a man. No amount of social justice, denial of biology and science or wishful thinking will ever allow them to reverse their genetic proclivities. Their psychological and sexual leanings do not change their inborn biological reality. I’m not saying we should attack or hate these people by any means, we should treat people equally, but the moment they begin to go bananas and call you cis scum over getting their pronoun wrong or assuming one of their 200 genders, it’s time to refuse to play along with this nonsense.

9. Deny the illusion of Utopian equality

There is no such thing as pure equality. Society is not a homogeneous entity, it is an abstraction built around a group of unique individuals. Individuals can be naturally gifted, or naturally challenged. But there will always be some people who are more apt towards success than others.

I have no problem whatsoever with the idea of equality of opportunity, which is exactly what we have in this country. I do have a problem however with the lie of universal equality through engineered means.

Standards of success should not be lowered in order to accommodate the least skilled people to facilitate artificial parity. For example, I constantly hear the argument that more people with victim group status should be given greater representation in positions of influence and regard within our culture, from science and engineering, to media, to business CEO’s, to politics, etc. The key word here is “given”, rather than “earned”. There is nothing wrong with one group of people excelling in a field more than another group, and there is nothing wrong with inequality when it comes to individual achievement. We must begin refusing to reward people for mediocrity and punishing success simply because the winners are not part of a designated victim group.

10. If you are a man, embrace your role

Men in particular have a considerable task ahead in terms of their personal endeavors if they hope to repair the destruction of social justice.

For thousands of years, men have been the industrial force behind all human progress and achievement. Today, they are told to be relegated to cubicles and customer service and to stay out of the way of badass, strong and independent women because their presence around a female is scary and oppressive… If we have any chance of undoing the damage of cultural Marxism, modern men must be men again.

You don’t have to prove to anyone you do “manly things”, just go out and do them. Most importantly, embrace your masculinity. Men are meant to be strong, hard working, competitive, protective and brave. Yes, women can be too but we are telling men that these qualities are toxic, only for feminists to use them for their own empowerment. They’re either toxic or they’re empowering. Make your mind up, ladies.

Men, you also need to be a threat again. That does not mean a threat against women, your family or anyone around you, but our men are supposed to be threatening to those who would threaten us. Modern society has not removed the need for masculinity and this will become more obvious the more our culture sinks into economic despair and the more our country’s values become overtaken. Just take a peep into Europe, their men are being raped by Somalian refugees and they apologize and feel guilty that his poor, victimized rapist faces deportation.