#i want to have a conversation about this so if anyone has any thoughts or anything about the topic of enjoying things in a modern

[dreamsteddie]

There is an AITA out there that I can't find but it's been haunting me for weeks with visions of semi-angsty Steddie that I need to release onto the world. (If anyone happens to know what I'm talking about hit me up and I'll link it)

Edit: @jazzathebunny found the original AITA from Reddit linked Here for anyone who wants to read it. I'm definitely not doing exactly the same premise but this was my jumping off point 😊

Part Two! ------

Modern AU, Eddie and the guys are a moderately successful local band in the Chicago area playing gigs on the weekends and doing small tours whenever they all have the time. Gareth and Jeff are both in college while Eddie and Freak are both working part-time at a game store. Eddie managed to lock down that assistant manager position that lets him work 30 hours a week with weekends off for gigs. All in all, it's a pretty sweet deal and they can't complain.

Eddie had sworn off dating after a small handful of disastrous relationship attempts in their first year in the city. He dismisses any advances from people who attend their shows and tries not to think about how much he wants to make a genuine connection with someone and have something real. He's been burned one too many times to try and make something with someone he met in a bar or at work.

He knows the guys talk about it behind his back sometimes, he catches Jeff and Gareth fervently whispering to each other and stopping when they catch him entering the room one time too many to not suspect they're talking about him and he can't think of anything else going on in his life that they would feel the need to whisper about.

The fervent conversations take a slight uptick one day and about a week and a half after they do, Gareth hits him up and tells him he wants to set Eddie up with a guy from one of his classes. At first, Eddie is skeptical and cites all the reasons why he doesn't want to try with anyone right now but eventually, Jeff jumps in to plea the case and Freak jumps in on top of that and under the combined weight of his best friends he agrees to meet up with this Steve guy.

The guys set up the whole thing and before Eddie knows it it's Saturday night and he's wearing his best black jeans and a gray button-down, untucked, to go on an honest to God blind date like his life is some low-budget romcom.

Steve is not at all what Eddie thought he would be. Not the kind of guy he thought his friends would pick out for him given they know he usually goes for other alternatives like himself. Steve, who is shyly waving him over and getting out of his seat to great him, is the very epitome of prep. Well-fitted polo, light blue chinos, and what Eddie assumes this guy thinks are casual loafers. He's handsome to be sure, a 12/10 at least with perfect hair and defined biceps but Eddie is fairly sure he's being punked.

But, Eddie doesn't want to be rude so he goes to meet Steve at the table, confirming just in case that he's actually here to meet with a guy named Eddie. Steve gives him a bit of a confused look, saying that Gareth showed him a couple pictures of Eddie before he agreed to meet and figured he'd done the same for Eddie off Steve's Instagram. Gareth had, in fact, not done anything of the sort but they both dismiss it and get on with their date.

In all honesty, Eddie is expecting it to be a complete wash, but it turns out that even if Steve is not at all what Eddie would have previously said what his type, Steve is damn near perfect. He's funny, kind, a little bitchy, and even though he proves himself to be every bit the sports nerd he looks like he doesn't turn his nose up at Eddie's own much more classically nerdy interests. By the end of the date, Eddie has a new type and that type is Steve Harrington. He's quick to lock down a second date for the next weekend which Steve happily agrees to. They exchange numbers and Steve gives Eddie a chaste kiss on the cheek that has him floating all the way home.

Steve texted him that next morning letting him now he had a great time and is really looking forward to their next date and Eddie thinks this might be the start of something big for him. When he gets to practice he's clearly still floating on cloud nine and in his own little world designing their marriage invitations and matching tombstones so he doesn't notice the sly grins on his bandmates' faces.

"So...how'd it go last night? Everything you dreamed it would be?" Gareth asks, a strange glint in his eyes that Eddie doesn't clock.

Eddie goes on and on about how nice Steve was and how he might be The One, thanking Gareth profusely. Freak looks pleased for him, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder in congratulations but when Eddie finally tunes back into the real world he's greeted by Gareth's livid expression and Jeff's overly concerned one.

He asks the guys what the fuck is up and it turns out that Gareth and Jeff set this whole thing up as a prank of sorts. Eddie was never supposed to hit it off with Steve who Gareth selected specifically because he's a "totally brain-dead prep" and as far away as someone could get from Eddie's previous relationships. He was supposed to be someone Eddie could go on a date with and not form a connection with without getting completely burned at the end like all his previous relationships in the hopes of getting him out of his slump.

Jeff was in on it as well. He wanted to get Eddie back out there, so when Gareth presented the plan he sat in on a couple of Gareth's general credit business class sessions to help pick the guy out.

After Jeff and Gareth finish explaining he does a complete 180 and just...leaves. In any other situation, he would be raging and verbally tearing his friends a new asshole but instead, he completely disengages and walks out the garage door, ignoring his friends' shouts to come back.

He goes back home, socked and hurt and so very confused about how the hell he found himself in this position when his phone lights up.

New Message: Steve H.

Fuck.

-------

Part two coming soon??? Maybe???? We'll see.

[n1su1218]

6B4T

Lately there has been talk about 4B and so I wanted to bring up 6B4T which grew from the South Korean 4B movement, and specially the 6B4T movement as it is practiced by our Chinese sisters. Before that however differences between the both are as followed:

4B

No sex with men

No giving birth

No dating men

No marriage with men

6B4T

Includes the original commandments of 4B and adds the following:

Don’t buy products from misogynistic brands

Support single women/women that have chosen to be celibate

Reject the corset (rejecting toxic beauty standards)

Reject idol culture (as in male-worship and idolization of entertainment figures this ALSO includes rejecting idol culture for female kpop idols/entertainers)

Reject otaku culture (rejecting misogynistic anime culture)

Reject religion

(**You may see 6B4T referred to as 10bt to avoid censorship as CN social media sites are heavily monitored by government censors, even outside of CN social media CN sisters will still refer to it as 10bt because 6b + 4t = 10bt)

Now that there's a basic understanding... I wanted to talk about some of the differences that the CN 6B4T movement has compared to what I usually encounter in English speaking radfem circles. Please note that this is my own experience and as with any political movement there can a myriad of women that agree and disagree (except on the 6B4T principles as a whole, those are rock solid for them haha.)

I was first aware of this movement around 2020 and have been following women on twitter/x since then that follow these beliefs. All of this has been gathered from tweets by 6B4T users on twitter/x + interactions with them. I am not a CN speaker and have used translation apps to piece together details on the 6B4T movement and have cross referenced this with some of the writings I can find in English about this and the conversations that I have had with some of the 10bt sisters that were willing to interact with me.

I do not feel comfortable just singling out specific accounts for people to look up on twitter but anyone that wants to do their own research can search the keywords on twitter 6B4T or 10bt and go under the "People" filter to populate accounts of CN women that have 6B4T and/or 10bt in their bio.

One thing that I want to talk about right away - the term donkey. It will come up quite often when you search 10bt accounts and is used to describe women that are perpetuating patriarchy because they "carry the patriarchy without protest and allow themselves to be exploited." (This includes married women.) 10bt sisters DO NOT have an emphasis on educating women that perpetuate patriarchy. You can find sayings such as:

"Feminism is like being given a weapon to support yourself with, do not use it to commit suicide by having a complex of saving donkeys" 

“Don't do donkey work for donkeys".

“Don’t get derailed by women support women, leave the donkeys alone.”

Which leads me to the next point - 10bt sisters are for empowering women independently. There is obvious acknowledgement of bonds and relationships between women but the general feeling is more to focus on the individual self, connections are based solely on shared interests and can be let go of as needed. (I have also seen discussions of letting go of romantic ties not just for straight sisters but for lesbian sisters as well.) Sentiments such as "focusing on oneself is a foundation for a happy life" "All thoughts and ideologies cannot be separated from down to earth efforts and dedication" are plenty. Really a focus away from "altruistic" causes so to speak

And on that note: anti veganism. 10bt sisters in general are adamant that 6B4T principles should only include tackling patriarchy and not have other causes added to it. Anti veganism sentiment also seems to stem from certain aspects in CN culture of serving smaller portions to young girls and discouraging them to eat meat as opposed to men. The focus on improving one's self from before also shows up here: "Women need strength to overthrow patriarchy, only then should we focus on improving the lives of animals."

Some 10bt sisters are also very open about criticism and believe women that openly identify with the 10bt movement should be prepared to have their posts critiqued, and while some will debate this... one of the things that is absolutely non negotiable is that actions MUST back up words. There’s lots of debates that go on in the 10bt movement but the bare minimum is that if you follow 6B4T then you must follow its core beliefs otherwise what are you here for? There is a huge disdain for those that say they belong to this movement but don’t follow its beliefs.

With that being said, how do the 10bt sisters feel about 4B taking off in the states? Well…

 “4B grew into 6B4T and they only dared to do half of the movement? It’s disappointing.”

“At this point in time, it is crazy to deliberately go back and start from 4B. You have someone’s shoulder to stand on but you won’t take it.”

“4B: No marriage, no giving birth , no sex, no dating. Doesn't that mean they are still serving as donkeys: supporting idols and otaku, believing in religion, using pornographic content, and consuming misogynistic brands... It really makes one recognize by a glance what stupid things they are still doing.”

“I don't understand how this kind of castration of the feminist movement came about.”

Is some of the general consensus on twitter/x.

Two more things I will add here before I wrap this up:

I have seen a post in English about other principles to follow such as 5B, 7B or 8B. I am not aware of what these principles are and could not find a CN source to confirm this so if 5B, 7B and 8B do exist, I do not believe it originated from the CN movement. 

There is also the concept of icing men out aka if a man comments on your social media posts immediately delete the comment EVEN if it is a comment in agreement. For this while I also could not find a specific CN source for the 10bt sisters, it feels like it is just natural to not interact with men. I have yet to see debates on whether someone can be part of 10bt and still have a boyfriend, husband, etc since the answer will always be a resounding NO. (And on this note… if you are curious about attitudes towards male family members.. rejection of filial piety is something that is very agreed upon. I would recommend first learning what filial piety entails in CN culture as whole if there is curiosity about this.)

I will wrap this up with one of my favorite concepts I have encountered from our 10bt sisters:

“When one woman keeps house*: five women are trapped: herself, daughter, mother, sister-in-law, and female coworkers”

[*keeps house meaning  - “when one woman marries…”] 

If there are sisters out here who are involved with this or have more info to add please feel free to do so! Also would love to get in touch with any that know more on the CN 10bt movement.  

[malk1ns]

november 8 2024 @ capitals, 4-2 win

the next part in my soulbond series (1, 2, 3, 4). hope you like it!

Sid can feel this season rapidly slipping out of his grasp.

He’d had a lot of talks with Kyle over the summer. Kyle was up-front about his plans for the year, honest and forthright about what he realistically thought the team could do. Their final conversation before Sid signed his extension ended with Kyle telling him, the Penguins are your team, Sidney, but if the direction we’re headed isn’t how you want to finish your career, I understand. It’s up to you.

He’d signed. He’s staying. It wasn’t ever really a choice.

Sid thinks there’s still a part of him that hoped, though. He’s never going to give up on winning, never going to stop chasing the ultimate goal, and the part of his brain that asks his barber to shave down the hair on his temples until the gray is less visible is the same part that clung to the idea of contending.

And, well, anything’s possible. They’re not even a quarter of the way through the season. But.

Worse than the team, though, Sid can feel Geno slipping away.

Geno’s been avoiding him since the Islanders game. After the hellish Carolina blowout, Sid tried to pin him down for a conversation, to actually talk about this bond and how they can fix it, but Geno slipped away, insulated from Sid on the plane by the poker game group and practically running up to his hotel room when they landed in DC.

For a moment Sid even considered going to morning skate to corner him, but Geno’s gameday routine is even more rigid than Sid’s own, and Sid can’t bring himself to mess up Geno’s rhythm, not on a day like today.

Games against Washington always have a little extra importance. Sid takes every game seriously, of course he does, but he won’t lie and say that the Capitals don’t stand out on the calendar more than the rest. Especially now, with records in sight and careers coming to an end.

It’s why he loses his temper and screams on the bench when they blow another lead again in the second.

Losing to an opponent because they’re just better than you is one thing. But what Sid can’t abide, won’t tolerate, is a lack of effort, sloppy play and ignoring the details and fundamentals, making careless mistakes that lead to chances against.

His line is playing well. He can’t say the same for anyone else.

At intermission, Sully stays out of the room at first, and Sid lets loose all his frustrations with the year so far, his anger at the losing streaks and his own struggles, and shouts the team down until they’re properly cowed. And when the coaching staff comes in again, Sid marches up to Sully and tells him to take Geno off the top line.

He says it loud enough for most of the guys to hear, but he doesn’t look over to see what face Geno’s making.

Geno’s been on his wing because of a bond he clearly doesn’t want, and Sid’s been taking advantage of it. If Sid can’t score with the wingers he has, he deserves any failures coming his way.

He spares a thought for his parents, somewhere up in the stands because Sid’s getting close to yet another milestone. Maybe he should tell them to go home.

It was the right decision. Partway through the third, Geno reads a rebound like only he can, breaks the tie, and the Penguins don’t look back.

Winning in Washington always means a lot, but even watching Alex smash his stick and yell at himself on the Capitals’ bench as time ticks down doesn’t make Sid feel better. He keeps his head down when he strips out of his gear, spends entirely too much time on a cooldown bike, and is the last one on the bus, barely making it before Sully would have started yelling about him being late.

At least they have the weekend off.

Sid can feel Geno watching him on the plane. Normally after a road trip like this, Geno would commandeer the window seat next to him, sprawl out and get his legs in Sid’s space, jostling him until Sid relaxed enough to laugh and poke back, the two of them picking at each other until they settled enough to get some sleep.

Nobody takes the empty seat next to Sid this time. He tugs his hat over his eyes and purposely thinks about nothing. At least it’s a short flight.

When they’re deboarding in Pittsburgh, for the first time ever Sid reaches out with the bond on purpose.

The recoil he gets from Geno is enough to send him practically running to his car, racing through the quiet streets to Sewickley faster than he’d normally drive. He feels sick.

Geno might hate him. It was Sid’s lagging production that pulled him into this bond, after all, chained Geno to his side for a week until Sid stopped being selfish and forced them apart again. Geno had been sick, Geno hadn’t been producing, and the second Sid let him free he scored, so… Sid can’t say with confidence that he wouldn’t be furious if their roles were reversed.

He’s so wrapped up in his own self-recriminations that he doesn’t realize Geno’s coming over until he hears a key in his lock, and suddenly Geno’s presence in the back of his mind is inescapable.

“Sid?” Geno calls, and Sid, sitting at his island in his dark kitchen, drops his head into his hands and waits.

When Geno finds him, he swears long and low, a tumble of Russian that Sid would have gotten the gist of even without the bond pulsing concern and guilt his way.

He flinches when Geno flicks the lights on, blinking up at where Geno’s suddenly looming over him.

“We need to talk,” Geno says, and Sid stares at him helplessly, because what is there to say?

Geno shakes his head and sits on the stool next to him, pressing their knees together. Sid feels a wash of relief at the contact so powerful he has to blink away dizzy darkness from the corners of his vision. Geno frowns, the downturned corners of his mouth digging lines into his face. In the harsh overhead lights, he looks haggard, skin pale under the remnants of his summer tan and the bags under his eyes dark and pronounced.

“My fault,” Geno says, holding up one big hand when Sid opens his mouth. “It’s me who starts this, like, after Sochi. I’m think probably I know it’s there and we’re ignore for so long it’s say, no more, has to happen. We have to fix or we’re sick for season.”

Sid shakes his head. “It’s me who made it…whatever,” he says, gesturing. He doesn’t know the right words for what’s happening to them, never read up on bonds because he never expected to have one. “Like, I needed you and made it…this.”

“You needed me,” Geno repeats, and his voice is toneless, but Sid feels a soft bloom of…something in the bond, something that makes him want to reach out and touch.

“I always need you,” Sid mutters, staring at his hands instead of Geno’s face. Almost twenty years together on this team and it shouldn’t feel so strange to admit, of course they need each other, but something about saying it now, out loud…the way he’s feeling, the way he can tell Geno is feeling, makes the words feel fraught.

There’s a long silence, and when Sid looks up, Geno’s biting his lip. “Don’t know what to do,” he admits, and Sid shouldn’t feel relief there, but at least he’s not alone in feeling totally lost.

There’s no real literature for this, not really. They haven’t even been able to have more than a few quick consults with bond specialists since they’ve been on the road.

Sid startles a little when Geno reaches out and covers Sid’s hands with one of his own. His palm is a little damp, but he’s warm, and his hand is big enough to cover both of Sid’s where they’re twisting in his lap.

It’s late. They both should get sleep, even with two full days off from games.

They sit in Sid’s kitchen in silence as night deepens outside.

[chillicoded]

Lando Norris is NOT an underdog.

This is NOT Lando hate. I don't endorse or tolerate hate towards ANY driver. This is just an opinion.

I had a conversation with somebody on Bumble about the Norris/Verstappen championship battle this season. I was for Verstappen, he was for Norris - no problem whatsoever in itself. After Max's absolute dominance last season, I really can't blame anyone for being bored of Max winning and wanting to see a new driver succeeding. But what Got My Goat is that he said the reason he wants Lando to win the WDC is because "he's an underdog". I sent a (pretty lengthy) message back on why I really don't think Lando qualifies as an underdog, and he never got back to me to defend his position. Maybe I scared him off, or maybe he just wasn't on Bumble to debate the nuances of what it means to be an underdog. Either way, I figured the topic would make a good first opinion post because I'm more likely to get a discussion out of it here, plus I have extra thoughts to add.

To me, an underdog is somebody who is disadvantaged because of the external resources available to them, in comparison to those they are competing against. For an F1 driver, that's the car, the team, the strategy, the experience they have in F1, the track (not just condition, but whether or not it suits their car) and momentary bursts of luck, among countless other variables. A good "underdog coming out on top" narrative comes from a person or character (in this case a driver) performing well or succeeding despite lacking the ideal resources to do so.

It's important to note that I don't think skill counts as an external resource. I also think skill is hard to measure. I personally would measure it in terms of results, consistency and versatility, but even within that, I feel like you need to take all of the external factors into account. For example, DNFing or dropping way back because of a collision, bad luck with the car or a botched pit stop would make a dent in a driver's consistency and results, but it doesn't mean they're less skilled.

Underdog narratives do exist in F1. The Alpine double podium in Brazil was a great underdog narrative. The Alpine car is hardly competitive most of the time. At the start of the season it was an absolute tractor. I don't know enough about the team, strategies, pit stops, etc. to comment on those, but regardless, I don't think anyone was expecting a double podium from them this season because Alpine just hasn't been competing at the front of the field. Yet, despite all that, both drivers finished on the podium and scored mad points in easily the most unpredictable race of the season.

Franco Colapinto performing well and scoring points, despite being dumped into Williams mid-season with a firmly midfield car and no experience, is also an underdog narrative. He's far outperformed Logan Sargeant already and has been battling with some of the most experienced drivers on the grid, and coming out on top. I don't think anyone was expecting all this from him when he was first brought into F1. Personally I saw a lot of people saying that they were booting out one underprepared F2 driver, and replacing him with another underprepared F2 driver. I was part of that crowd too. Sorry Franco. I was not familiar with your game.

Even Carlos Sainz's win at Singapore last year could be considered an underdog narrative. Sure, he started on pole and he's an experienced driver, but everyone was an underdog compared to Red Bull (mainly Max) last year, and Ferrari didn't have a great car or great strategies. He did have the luck of Max being practically out of sight, having been outqualified by Liam Lawson in an AlphaTauri (another great underdog moment, by the way), but it still takes skill to keep the lead, and his strategic use of Lando goes to show that even further than just the win itself.

These are just a few recent examples. Think about them. Seriously deep them. Revel in how they make you feel.

Now think about Lando's performance this season.

His first win in Miami was great. At the time, I was still a hardcore Lando supporter and I was absolutely thrilled. A few laps before the end of the race, when it became apparent that he was almost definitely going to win, I was already celebrating for him. It had been a long time coming and it was amazing to see him realising the potential I knew he and McLaren had. He's won twice more this season so far, and both times he was ahead by a country mile at the chequered flag. Aside from that first ever win, though, his other impressive performances this year haven't quite evoked the same emotion as my previous examples. That sense that he's overcoming disadvantages and delivering even when the odds are stacked against him just isn't there for me. Why is that?

There's no denying that he's a skilled driver. Three wins in a season with 7 different race winners (6 of whom have won multiple races) isn't too bad at all. He's also been relatively consistent throughout the year, never finishing a race outside the points. He's even been able to adapt to a range of tracks and weather conditions. For example, he finished P6 after the rain and chaos of Brazil, which threw off even some of the other skilled drivers mentioned above like Sainz and Colapinto.

But we're not here to discuss whether or not he's skilled. We're here to discuss whether or not he's an underdog.

Honestly, did you even read the title?

Anyway. Skill doesn't make someone an underdog. I established that earlier. If skill makes someone an underdog, Max Verstappen is probably the underest dog on the current grid, and that's obviously not the case. We need to look into those external factors I mentioned above: things like car, strategy, luck and experience, in comparison to what other drivers have had to work with this year. The less he has, the more of an underdog it makes him.

First and foremost, McLaren's strategies this year have been pretty abysmal. The terrible calls made in instances like the Hungarian Grand Prix and the lack of calls made in instances like Monza lap one have been enough to make me stop supporting McLaren as a team altogether. They insisted that they weren't prioritising the drivers' championship, but with the constructors' practically secured, I honestly find that hard to believe. If it is true, they've been doing a disservice to both drivers: to Lando by not giving proper attention to his very real championship chances, and to Oscar by ordering him to give up positions for Lando and act as a second driver at certain points, apparently for no real reason. Overall, McLaren's strategies have been in Lando's favour at times, but they've rarely been good. It's hard for me to compare McLaren's strategy calls to other teams, though, simply because I don't know enough about other teams' strategy calls. Maybe all the teams have been equally rubbish with strategy this year, so it technically hasn't been putting Lando at a disadvantage. I wouldn't know. If you have any insight on this, let me know and I might make a second, more definitive post about this.

As for luck, Lando has had bouts of both good luck and bad luck so far this year. He had some good luck in Miami, ultimately facilitating his first win, and he had some hard luck in Austria with his collision with Verstappen and Baku with qualifying. I'm not at all suggesting that Lando didn't deserve his first win (honestly, I don't believe that "deserving" matters in this sport at all), but I don't think he would've won that first race without the luck of the safety car, and I'm not sure he would've performed as well as he has without the confidence boost from that first win. With the car he's had this season (and I'll talk about that next), it would've come eventually, but I really do think that momentary burst of luck has been a really important factor in shaping this season for Lando. It has definitely had more of an effect than his moments of poor luck. I think few other lucky instances have had as much of an effect for a team or driver, except maybe Alpine's performance in Brazil.

His car has been a seriously influential factor, too. Of course, no driver's success is all because of the car; the driver and the car always go hand in hand. A less skilled driver can't properly handle a good car (see Pérez) and even a good driver can rarely drag performance that isn't there out of a tractor (see Bottas at Sauber). But, like his luck, the MCL38 has massively facilitated Lando's ability to perform this year. It's a car that has been capable of winning races by over twenty seconds, creating final laps that are reminiscent of Max's dominance last season. That alone begs the question, why has Lando not been performing consistently at that level? Where exactly does the balance of success lie between Lando and his car?

It's definitely worth taking into consideration that top teams this year have certainly given Lando a lot of competition to deal with this year. Even with a dominant car, with around six other drivers able to put up a fight against Lando, he's not in as dominant a position as Max was last year. But there is a difference in skill in certain areas, and it shows in moments like Lando's first lap bottles from pole compared to Max's perfect starts last year, for example. Lando is just not as polished a driver as some of his competitors, and that is something that naturally comes with more experience.

It's hard to say Lando lacks experience, though. 2024 is his fifth season in F1. He's not always had a great car, but now that he does have one, it's clear to see that he knows how to handle it decently well. Compared to Oscar Piastri, though, it doesn't look like his experience is giving him the competitive edge you'd expect. With four years of experience over his teammate, you'd think Lando would be performing at a much higher level, but that just isn't the case. As a quick example, Oscar's average finishing position this season is 4.9. Lando's is only 0.8 higher at 4.1. With that difference in experience, you'd expect a much higher gap in performance... or at least I would. Maybe I'm wrong for that. Let me know.

Overall, I really don't think Lando is at any kind of serious disadvantage that would make it fair to call him an underdog. He has issues thanks to McLaren's strategic blunders, sure, but the rest of his problems are pretty much skill issues. Call me back with the notion of an "underdog narrative" when Ollie Bearman is in the championship fight in a Haas next year.

[ramblinscramblin]

May I request scout and demo (and maybe heavy if you want) with a ftm reader??? It can be any scenario NSFW, sfw idc. I'm hungry and I need food 😭 (you don't gotta do this btw just a little thought ♥️)

-‼️

→With a FTM reader!

Genre: slice of life, fluff! Male reader!

Characters: Scout, Demo, Heavy

Of COURSE I will write this. Relationship left pretty ambiguous. Hope you enjoy! Thank you again for the ask!

Scout

Scout definitely doesn’t realize without you spelling it out for him, no matter how “feminine” you may present.

Asks A LOT of questions, borders on invasive, but is just genuinely pretty confused and intrigued about it.

“So… wait, you were born a chick, but now you’re a guy? How’s dat work?”

“Scout, we have been over this. Literally ten times,” you say, exasperated.

After the initial long and honestly exhausting conversation, the two of you feel closer for it. He’s secretly sentimental as hell, so he appreciates you telling him so much, like it genuinely makes him feel so trusted.

When you come out to him, the support is not instant, as he tends to show these kinds of things in really covert ways, he doesn’t want anyone knowing he has a big heart.

But the second someone says something out of line that is when his support is the most apparent. Always corrects someone when they misgender you, but if they continue after he corrects them? Buddy, it’s over.

You tell scout you appreciate it, but you can stand up for yourself. He’s not really having it though, too hot headed to let it go.

Genuinely forgets your trans at time.

“Why don’t you ever use the urinals? S’weird,” the commented once as you left the bathroom together.

“Scout.”

“What?” He blinked at you dumbly for a few seconds, before realization dawns on him “oh shit! Dats right, sorry.”

He’s trying his best.

Demoman

Demo is part of team “not really my business so it doesn’t affect me”

As in it doesn’t really affect the way that he feels about you, or the way he treats you.

Doesn’t ask any questions unless it’s clear to him it’s something you’d like to talk about.

Depending on closeness he may even feel confident in making some jokes about it. Only if you find them funny though, absolutely wouldn’t do it if made you upset/uncomfortable.

Is big into giving you male experiences that you may have missed out on, mostly cliché and stereotypical things, some of which you have probably definitely done before.

“Demo, I think we’re a little too old to be playing trains right now,” you say, holding a train in your hand.

“Fine then, I’ll just clean it up then,” Demo said with a huff.

You stop him “well… I didn’t say that.”

Let’s you speak for yourself in most settings, but if you ever express your discomfort in a situation he won’t hesitate to remove you from it/remove the person causing this discomfort.

Doesn’t make a huge scene, will take the blame for you saying it’s him who’s got a problem.

Demo supports you when you need it, encourages you through your medical transition if you choose to do so/if you haven’t already.

Alternatively, reassures you that you’re not less of a man for not having surgeries or using HRT if you choose not to.

I honestly believe that Demo has been around a lot of queer people, he’s the world’s best trans ally.

Heavy

Heavy, like Scout has a lot of questions when you come out. Isn’t nearly as invasive and holds back anything that he thinks may make you uncomfortable.

It doesn’t change how he views you, thinks of you as man no matter what.

Really appreciates that he’s someone you trust enough to tell, even if he doesn’t fully get it, he understands that it can be a nerve wracking thing to talk about.

Recommends medic if you want to have any surgeries done, respectfully you decline. Fearing for the rest of your organs well being.

Heavy does a lot of reading to ensure he gets things right, but only brings up your transness if you do.

Loves hearing about your trans experience if you tell him about it, will listen intently taking mental notes.

Doesn’t feel the need to protect you, you’re a grown man who handled himself perfectly fine without him. But, like Demo, if he feels you getting a little out of your depth all he really has to do is come stand behind you.

Gender affirming nicknames, always. I feel like Heavy is big into nicknames some of his favorite for you is “big man” “guy” “handsome” if he’s feeling bold.

“How is the big man today,” he asked coming up to you one day.

You chuckle a little bit “it really should be me asking you that.”

Being with Heavy is a testosterone booster, just enjoy being masculine together.

OOOOO I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCH. I may revisit this idea later and add more of the mercs, for now I have more asks to get to! Thanks so much for the ask! (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

[machineheraldbabe]

viktor, a messiah inverted.

arcane season 2 spoilers throughout.

I have a plethora of thoughts on Viktor's strictly season 2, act 1 arc so far and I'd like to get them down in writing before act 2 drops. without a clue about how this evolves in future acts, I'd like to unpack the ways in which arcane has painted Viktor not as a simple Christ-figure, but an inverted messianic figure in just 2 tight episodes.

important note: i'm speaking strictly in terms of literary/film analysis. as you'll see, i'm taking an archetypal angle and won't be evoking any true discussions of faith in this post. i would never want to offend anyone of any religious beliefs, and i hope the secondary source i bring in helps clarify my meaning <3

Lit scholar and professor Robert Detweiler, writing in a very old (1964) but useful article about Christ figures in American literature, defines 3 manifestations of such symbolism: the disguised biblical christ; the christ figure as "mythological archetype;" and the christ figure as a symbol. i'll be using the second definition, the archetype, which he defines as the following:

“He can be the redeemer on the supernatural level who mediates between God and man or the culture-bringer on the natural level who introduces people to a better life " (115).

*In general, when I'm talking about a Christ figure (which I'll then invert in Viktor's case), I mean a fictionalized account of Christ's experiences and teachings, in whatever way they can manifest in the corresponding literature/story.

Arcane is very heavy on archetypes, and this version of a Christ figure is the most divorced from any distinctly biblical iterations that would hinder an analysis like this one. This definition then invokes 2 main questions: who is the God, or the transcendent, in Arcane, and what is the "better life?" I argue the following: the transcendent would refer to the arcane itself, as it's the only larger than life force we have to work with at this point in the series; the "better life" is the healing Viktor is offering shimmer addicts. Culture-bringer makes Viktor into a bestower of the knowledge the he was "granted" from above (time away from Zaun, time spent enduring the Hexcore). His "descent" to the undercity represents a "mission" of spreading that knowledge and healing. All that, combined with a stunningly on the nose visual rework, he's got the full Jesus-Christ-Allegory package.

But I just don't think it's so black and white!

They've altered an otherwise one-for-one replication of traditional, overdone Christ, messianic allegories into an eerie perversion. I've broken that down into 6 main points...

An Unwilling Resurrection

As Viktor states very obliquely to Jayce, "I was supposed to die." 1x09 all but closes with Viktor telling Jayce to allow him to die by promising to destroy the Hexcore. With his time running out, Viktor resigns himself to his own death; he would even have something of a legacy, as pointed out by Heimerdinger.

But Jayce wrenches him back to life. Whereas a typical Christ figure, in Detweiler's view especially, would have this resurrection spring from a transcendent divine will, Viktor is fighting against said will. He rebukes the life that's been re-thrust upon him. So, while it may be a Christ-like resurrection on the surface, it's far from it in intent and impact.

A Concealed Crucifixion

Viktor's physical positioning is very similar to that of a figure nailed to a cross, sans the fully outstretched arms, in this full-body shot. Yet, whereas a Christ's figure's demise would most likely be displayed as a testament of that character's sacrifice, Jayce has concealed Viktor. He lets only his most trusted confidant, Mel, witness Viktor. Maybe Cait has seen him, too, based on her conversation with Jayce, but in general he's not been seen by a large audience.

The Empty Tomb

Christ's departure from the tomb after 3 days is crucial tenet of Christian belief -- Viktor leaving his cocoon/tomb is not joyous, nor is it a sign of transcendent prophecy. If the arcane is the transcendent in this case, Heimerdinger's frequent warnings about its potential for destruction do not promise anything good by its manifestation walking among the common people - a marked difference from a traditional Christ figure. The empty cavern he leaves is but an eerie revision of the stone being moved from the tomb's opening.

Blind Leading the Blind

Viktor is not on a divine-inspired mission; he's being manipulated to some degree by an entity that has invaded his psyche, taking the form of Sky. He's not piloting himself, nor is there a benevolent transcendent being guiding him toward spreading good will. Viktor is blind, not a teacher, and he leads the blind, the shimmer addicts, further into a darkness over which he has no control (yet! I'm confident he'll be regaining agency soon). Even his eyes, now without their old amber hue, point to the fact that he's not seeing nor living clearly right now.

Cultists. Not Disciples.

The blind in question are not called to love and learn from Viktor organically. Whether by implication or a plot device to expounded upon later, Viktor very frighteningly draws the shimmer addict (Huck) toward him and forces his power unto him. As far as we can tell now, the result was nothing bad, but the Sump addicts have bent their knees to him out of desperate fear, not benevolence or worship. The mercy he's extended them is inspired by the malevolent arcane, which seems hungry and commanding.

Enslavement to, Not Embodiment of, the Transcendent

While Viktor has consumed (or been consumed by?) the arcane, he still does not embody it. Despite aligning with Detweiler's "culture-bringer," Viktor can only maintain this for so long. His body is weakened by this episodic healing - he collapses after healing Huck the first time. And in the newly released poster, we can see what appears to be brown rust/rot beginning to corrupt his hand.

If Viktor truly embodied the transcendent, the arcane, it would mesh properly with his person. Instead, he's been enslaved to it. The degree to which it's currently affecting him may be up for debate, but all signs point to Viktor not being totally with us just yet.

In sum, Viktor has the superficial workings of a typical messianic symbol, but beneath the surface, the writers have made not an anti-Christ, but an upside-down version. If Viktor had malicious intent and spread what was outwardly harmful, especially inspiring that in others, then a new term may be necessary. But the tragedy involved in his story so far is that of attempted healing, attempted redemption, and attempted forgiveness all being corrupted by the transcendent arcane.

I'm very excited to see where they take his arc next. I like to think that this analysis can stand on its own, at least for now!

[emmg]

WIP whenever

because @heylittleriotact uno reverse'd me lmfao

bc grading essays is overrated, so here’s a lil’ something from the ridiculous fic I’m forcing my keyboard to suffer through. Plot? Absolutely none. Just Emmrook going on “dates” (and like also… smutty dates) suggested by the other clowns haunting the Lighthouse. This one’s SUPPOSED to end in a coffee date—because Lucanis—but I haven't written that yet lol

Honestly, it’s like… smut-crackfic with necromancy puns that should be punishable by law. I keep saying I’ll write a serious Emmrich one day, but let’s be real, that day isn’t today

Anyway, title? Don’t have one. I'm just throwing a bunch of dashes and slapping a read-more right before it gets too long so it doesn't invade anyone's dash

--------------

It’s the most absurd scene. Like, truly bonkers. 

She hovers in the doorway, conveniently camouflaged by shadows, because though the cringe levels are searing her soul, she simply cannot look away. It’s like watching a runaway cart barreling downhill, if said cart was cobbled together with blissful ignorance and top-tier ineptitude. 

There, crammed onto Harding and Neve’s favorite tiny sofa, are Lucanis and Emmrich. And they’re... talking? Sort of? It’s the most agonizing conversation she’s ever been subjected to, and that’s saying something. Lucanis is flailing his hands around, using them more than words, trying to drive home whatever point he’s failing spectacularly to make. Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the dignified one, has one leg crossed so neatly over the other that it creates this little triangle of space that she suddenly wants to crawl into and hide from the embarrassment radiating off both of them. 

"You see," Lucanis laments, his fingers forming that universal gesture of the confused and the desperate, “we went for coffee. But she, well, threw it back. Like a shot of spirits. It was not just any brew. This was from the frost-bitten slopes of the Vimmark Mountains. A dark roast with notes of juniper and just a hint of wild honey. You don’t just drink something like that—you experience it.” He shakes his head. “Her focus was all on that new case file, instead. And fish. Fried fish."

Emmrich nods along thoughtfully. “I understand. However, if I may be so bold, Lucanis, have you perhaps thought of discussing something besides coffee? A change of topic might open new avenues.” 

"I did offer to sharpen her knives."

“Knives,” Emmrich repeats, as though weighing the term’s philosophical import. “And… Neve is known to possess a significant collection of blades?” 

“No,” says Lucanis, flat as a pancake. 

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, offering a sage nod. A wise and knowing “ah,” as if that somehow clarified things. "An unusual approach, then." 

Desperate to claw himself out of this conversational pit, Lucanis asks, “Well, what is it you and Rook… do?” He stumbles over the words, as though simply asking has exhausted his entire social skill set for the year. 

And now, it’s Emmrich’s turn to squirm. She can almost see his moustache twitching, wishing it could detach itself from his face and make a run for the hills. He looks away, frowning slightly, as though consulting some vast internal library.  

They don’t go on dates. Please. Not even the hilariously doomed sort that Lucanis somehow subjected Neve to. For one, neither of them has the time for candlelit strolls with the world about to be ripped apart by blighted elven gods strutting around like they own the place.

Usually, she just pops into his room and fucks him while he pontificates about the finer points of romance. Oh, she always lets him go on for a hot minute, but once her lips are on his throat and her hands start wandering further south, he finally gets the hint, and that highbrow nonsense about “dignified courtship” goes straight out the window.

Emmrich, after clearing his throat, finally answers, "We discuss books."

From her shadow, she snorts. He's not wrong, technically. Just the other night, she had perched in his lap while he was reading some dry treatise on Fade energy attunement and the properties of dawnstone. He’d even launched into a detailed explanation while she kissed her way down his jaw and neck, hardly deterred by the lecture. Finally, when her hand wandered beneath his shirt, Emmrich, after a brief struggle to finish his monologue, allowed the tome to tumble from his grip.

So yes, “discussing books” might be accurate, but it’s hardly the whole story. And yet here sits Emmrich, steadfast in his scholarly pride, while Lucanis looks ready to take a long walk off a very short pier. She’s not sure which of them is more tragic. 

“Hm,” says Lucanis, apparently having reached the absolute zenith of his conversational abilities. 

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, with all the enthusiasm of someone describing mildew yet also, somehow, managing to sound very polite about it. 

She saunters over to break this pathetic monotony of wall-staring both are currently engaged in.

“My dear,” Emmrich perks up, relief flooding his face as though she’s just rescued him from the depths of some social hell. His voice is full of that charming lilt he uses when he’s desperate to salvage his dignity. 

He makes a half-hearted attempt to stand, all dignified and well-bred, but she waves him off with a lazy hand, signalling him to stay seated. And stay he does. Without missing a beat, she slides into his lap, practically draping herself sideways over him, arms winding around his neck. He tenses for a moment, exhales in resignation, but eventually gives in, one hand resting at the small of her back, fingers just barely grazing the line between respectable and… well, decidedly not. 

“I hate when you do that,” Lucanis snarls from across the sofa, jabbing a finger at her. 

“Yes, it’s not very proper,” Emmrich says with solemnity, though he’s showing absolutely zero signs of protest about her whole backside pressing against him. 

With a serene, mischievous grin, she stretches her legs, casually extending them until they’re firmly invading Lucanis’ personal space. 

“Mierda,” he grumbles, swatting at her ankle with all the fervor of a cat being swiped at by an annoying feather. “Rook.” 

She just grins that beautifully infuriating grin. “Go back to your pantry, Lucanis,” she says sweetly, her tone one of pure, serene malice. “The gouda is getting lonely.” 

Lucanis stalks off, glowering as if he’d chuck a knife at her head if he had one in hand. And she’s fairly sure he would. 

She blows him a kiss. He shows her the middle finger. They’ll have coffee in the morning.

Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the portrait of indulgent patience, looks up at her from his cozy place beneath her with a satisfied hum. “How was your day, darling?” 

“Good,” she sighs, stretching further until her legs are practically colonizing whatever’s left of Lucanis’ side of the sofa. “Yours?” 

Emmrich raises an eyebrow. Makes a contemplative sound deep in his throat. “Enlightening. Lucanis and I were just having… an intriguing discussion.” 

“Oh?” she purrs, eyes glinting. “About what, pray tell?” 

“Courtship,” he says, savoring the word as though it were some priceless artifact he’s just dusted off from an ancient shelf. 

She smirks. “I’m sure you gave him absolutely riveting advice.” 

“I certainly tried.” He heaves a great sigh, even rolls a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “Though, I fear our preferred methods diverge.” 

“‘Preferred methods’?” she echoes, giving his thigh a playful squeeze. “Do enlighten me.” 

Emmrich gives her a look that’s half-scholar, half-sufferer. “Well, I fancy a touch of romance, some… sentimentality, if you will. And Lucanis…” 

“And Lucanis?” she goads. 

“His idea of a grand romantic gesture involves… knives,” he finishes with a sigh of pure exasperation. 

She can’t hold back the snort that escapes. “I mean, yeah, it’s Lucanis. Did you expect anything different?” She presses a little closer, trouble dancing in her eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I do love talking about books with you… so very much.” 

Emmrich doesn’t miss a beat, a hint of sarcasm curling his lips. “So I’ve gathered.” 

“Tell me more about your books, Emmrich,” she coos, batting her eyelashes with all the enthusiasm of a third-rate actress in a chintzy Orlesian play. 

“If you’re genuinely interested, I would gladly oblige.” 

“Oh, I’m interested,” she purrs, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. “In you talking… while you bend me over your desk.”

Emmrich rolls his eyes, his facade of feigned innocence dissolving in an instant. “There it is,” he says, shaking his head, fully resigned, and yet absolutely, unflinchingly unbothered. “Right on schedule.”

She giggles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, laughing against his skin as his mouth curves into a smile. His hand moves down her back, rubbing a little more insistently, as if he’s grounding himself—or maybe just unable to resist the urge to keep her right there. 

And she doesn’t make it easy for him. She drags her legs back, swings one over his lap, and settles herself down, straddling him. For a moment, she just studies him, tracing her fingers through his hair, brushing little gray strands back, pressing featherlight kisses along his cheekbones. She moves to his jaw, his forehead, then teases at the edge of that absurdly high collar he insists on wearing like he’s hiding some grand secret rather than just a very biteable throat. 

He is fine, she muses, is he not? So impossibly precise, so painfully detailed. He’s all sharp angles and sleek lines, with those maddeningly long fingers that look like they could carve through a mountain if they set their mind to it, and legs that seem to go on for days. Tall, lean, graceful, and—she smirks—a touch too verbose for his own good.

There’s a tragic elegance to him, too, a sort of quiet, melancholic dignity wrapped up in age and maturity, like a bottle of rare, finely aged wine that’s only gotten more complex with the years. A shame, really, that he’s about to be thoroughly enjoyed by someone who wouldn’t know a fine vintage from a spoiled ale. 

She’ll savor him all the same, every last bit. 

When she takes his hands, winding her fingers through his, she feels him smile—a real, soft thing, so she leans down and steals it right off his mouth. She licks along the seam of his lips, teasing, before he finally gives in and parts them, letting her kiss him in earnest. 

“I like your rings,” she murmurs as she pulls back, letting their mouths part with a wet pop, a little string of saliva snapping between them. “They make you look expensive.” 

“Not too expensive, I hope,” Emmrich teases. “Otherwise, I fear I’ll meet the same fate as every artifact your merry Lords of Fortune collect. Pilfered in the night, sold to the highest bidder. One moment here, the next—poof. Gone.” 

She makes a show of sighing, voice deadly serious. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’d rig the auction, slip in a pretty penny or two, then plant an inside man to bid on you. Coin in one hand, you smuggled back to me in the other. All in one night.” 

He laughs, that rich, throaty sound she loves, and she can feel it rumbling up through his chest. “All that trouble just for me?” 

She leans in, lips brushing his ear. “Consider it my own little courtship ritual,” she whispers, nipping at his earlobe. “Better than dinner and a walk, don’t you think?” 

He chuckles, his hands slipping to her hips, holding her close as if he’s half-tempted to test just how well she could pull off that heist. “Dangerously persuasive, as usual.” 

For a while, she stays just as she is, savoring the closeness, every slow inhale filled with the scent of him, the warmth of his body against hers. She steals little kisses, grazing his jaw, breathing her laughter against his skin each time he starts to smile. She loves the quiet, the intimacy of it all, though she loves his voice just as much. Sometimes, she asks him to read aloud, not for the content, but for that smooth, careful cadence that rolls through her and makes her feel so, so good. She’ll rest her head in his lap, fingers idly tracing patterns on his hands, kissing his knuckles, his fingertips, watching his face as he reads. 

Now, there’s nothing for him to read, but she leans into him all the same, letting his quiet words fill the space. He murmurs, babbles, whispers soft nonsense as he unlaces her hair, fingers brushing through the waves, watching as they fall in gentle cascades over his lap. She exhales, content, her eyes half-closed, perfectly happy just to listen as his voice drifts around her, soothing and familiar. 

She simply listens, resting her head on his thigh, gazing up at the ceiling, fingers trailing over his hands, kissing his fingers one by one, lingering on each touch. Her teeth gently scrape along his skin, letting her tongue follow in a slow, winding path. She feels his breath hitch, hears him stumble over his words as she nibbles down each finger, tracing her tongue along the edge before she takes it into her mouth, sucking just enough to leave him squirming. She lets each finger slip from her lips with a wet pop, savoring the way his composure falters, how he tries—and fails—to keep his voice steady as she drags her mouth over the center of his palm, kissing, licking, leaving nothing untouched. 

He’s given up on this one-sided dialogue entirely, his gaze drifting from her to the room around them—the door, the table, the empty corners where nothing but dust bunnies, or perhaps a few stray Fade bunnies, lurk in silence. 

“Dear,” he murmurs, glancing down at her. “We ought to move.” He gives her a gentle nudge, even tries to rise himself, but she’s not having it. 

“Oh, but you look so good here,” she protests, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “They’re all asleep, Emmrich. Even Lucanis, that kitchen rat, is probably curled up in his pantry right now, snuggling his precious wheel of parmesan.” 

Emmrich lets out a long, put-upon sigh, like he’s reaching deep into his reserve of patience, maybe for some scolding remark, but he finds none. His shoulders drop as he finally relents, letting her kisses chip away at his restraint. She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, detailing exactly what she wants him to do with those hands of his—where she wants those fingers, how she wants them stroking, filling, plunging, curling… 

“Well then,” he manages, and she laughs, a short, wicked little sound, straight into his mouth. 

She slips down his body, her hands already at his waist, working his trousers loose with a grin that says she knows exactly how flushed he’s become. She murmurs something obscene, barely a whisper and almost incoherent, her smirk widening as she leans in closer, taunting, “Come on, Emmrich, don’t tell me no bone was ever… poked… in that crypt of yours, right out in the open for all to see.” 

“It’s the Grand Necropolis,” he corrects, like that’ll somehow keep his dignity intact, “and we most certainly do not… poke.”

She undoes the last of the many - too many - buttons on his trousers before freeing him just enough to take him in hand. And oh, would you look at that, for all of his posturing he's already hard. All that wriggling on top of him certainly led to something, she thinks.

“Oh?” she hums, tracing her fingertips over his bare skin, savoring the way he stiffens under her touch. She leans forward, her lips brushing against his length as she murmurs, “Not even a quick tumble between the tombs? Not a single bone used for inspiration?” 

His restraint crumbles as she flicks her tongue over him, taking her time, drawing out each little shiver, each catch in his breath, making sure he’s utterly undone before she finally lets her mouth close around him, her gaze locked on his as she starts to take him deeper, her mouth warm, wet, greedy. And as she feels him sink back, his hands clenching in her hair, she knows she’s finally broken that perfect composure, and she couldn’t be more pleased. 

Then she pulls back just enough to speak. “So, tell me, is this what you meant by reanimation techniques?”

Emmrich sighs, dragging his free hand over his face as if he could somehow block out the utter cringe tumbling out of her mouth, his fingers twitching, though she doesn’t give him a moment’s peace. She lowers her head again, sucking him in, hollowing her cheeks, before releasing him yet again, his cock slipping past her lips with an obscene, wet pop. “You know," she muses, "I’d say you’re looking rather stiff.”

A sharp exhale escapes him, a half-laugh, half-moan that only encourages her further. She picks up her pace, taking him deeper, her hands braced against his hips as she moves with a steady rhythm, doing that little thing with her tongue she knows he likes, she knows that everyone likes, a talent truly, swirling all the way around, pressing it flat on the underside of his cock, only to suck her way up, breathe hot air against him, before swallowing him again. 

Between every few breaths, she pulls back just enough to taunt him, her voice syrupy with mock innocence. She can barely hold back the laughter as she watches him react, his hips bucking ever so slightly with each tease, like clockwork, so deliciously predictable. “Come on, love. I thought resurrection was your specialty?”

“Blasphemy,” he mutters above her, though there’s no real heat in his voice. 

“No, no.” She rests her cheek against his thigh, stroking him instead with a slow, deliberate touch, her palm warm and slick, her grip firm. “Think of it as… a rather intensive course in raising the dead.”

The absurdity of it hits her right as she says it—her last attempt at an erotic pun officially surpassed—and she breaks, a snort escaping as she buries her face against his leg, her shoulders shaking with laughter. 

But then she feels his hands shift, pulling her up by her arms, and she yelps, startled, before giggling as he hauls her up, settling her right back on top of him. 

“That’s quite enough of that,” Emmrich whispers. 

As he catches his breath, she wipes her mouth, grinning at him with all the smug satisfaction of someone who’s just completely dismantled a man who prides himself on his restraint. She feels his fingers on her chin as he angles her face back towards his so he can kiss her and she's not shy, she tangles her tongue with his immediately, tasting as much of him as she can reach, even tracing the edge of one canine before retreating for breath. 

“Think you could, I don’t know…” She waves a hand around aimlessly. “Necromance my pants away?” 

He smiles, curling her hair around his fingers where it frames her face. “No, dear. I’m afraid that is not in my skill set.”

[keepingitformyself]

there’s been no way for me to say (that i felt a certain way)

Synopsis: natasha romanoff has loved you for ages and she could never seem to get it right.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: college AU, fluff and angst.

warnings: angst?

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha met you in a very peculiar way.

it started at a friends of a friends party, in some internet starlet’s brooklyn loft.

drinks were going around, the music was loud, the smell of marijuana was very strong. she doesn’t quite remember it— after having been to a bunch of parties they all seem to blur into one— but she knows it was enough to leave a lasting impression on her.

she’d heard your piercing laugh from across the room. you, in a tight tank top and some black slacks. she could see the shine of sweat against your skin, the colorful lighting of the room making you seem so beautifully human.

everything sort of froze in the coming moments. she watched as you took your top off without a second thought. you were about to shotgun a beer and you stood tall as you did it atop the kitchen island. you didn’t need the attention, nor did you want it, but you had it.

it was a simple behavior. but it stayed with natasha long after you had crushed the beer can and tossed it on the floor somewhere.

natasha thinks you never notice her staring for the rest of the night but you do.

weeks later she sees you again at another party.

clint, wanda, tony and everyone else joins her this time. she isn’t surprised when she sees you. it was the same crowd, similar friend groups. but this time you made it easy for her to approach you.

somehow you end standing next to eachother near where all the drinks had been laid out.

"hey," you said, voice casual but warm. "didn’t expect to see you here again."

natasha smiled, though she hadn’t expected to talk to you at all. nor did she think you noticed her. "i guess we have similar taste in parties."

you laughed lightly. “guess so."

there was a beat of silence before you added, “you know, you were kinda staring at me last time.”

natasha froze for a second, unsure how to respond. she hadn’t thought you’d noticed. but before she could stammer out an excuse, you were already grinning.

“i’m just messing with you. it was funny. i didn’t think anyone would care enough to notice me.”

natasha was relieved, yet still unsure if you were actually joking. either way she felt this was going better than she planned.

the night wore on and you guys carried easy conversation. natasha was still unsure how to even approach talking to you. she felt kind of shy. so she improvised by making references to things she didn’t think you’d get, but you almost always did.

you dropped a reference to something obscure, a movie natasha had once obsessed over, and natasha stared at you for a moment longer than was socially acceptable. she couldn’t stop herself.

“you’re really into that, huh?” she said, and just like that, the bond started to form. it wasn’t immediate or instant, not the kind of connection that screams “best friends forever.” no, it was something stranger, something subtler, like two different puzzle pieces that had almost fit, only to get pushed back together by sheer happenstance.

“your references are spot on.” you laughed. natasha smiled at how easy you made it for her to be around you.

you and natasha started seeing each other more, slowly building this weird, unspoken routine. she’d text you at random, making some kind of sarcastic comment or joke only you would get, and you’d shoot back a meme that only someone with your specific sense of humor would understand. over time, you both ended up in the same circles, passing each other in the hallways of the university, at class, at parties—always just a little bit more than acquaintances, but never quite crossing into the territory of “best friends.”

there was something comfortable about it. easy, even. but for natasha, it was also strange. the more she saw you, the more she felt like there was something else there, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge. maybe it was a crush. maybe it was more than that.

it wasn’t as though either of you had been completely oblivious to the passing of time, to the fact that you were both growing older, moving through college with the same bittersweetness that everyone else felt. and yet, there was still this distance between you, an unspoken barrier that neither of you had broken down.

natasha thought about you a lot more than she’d like to admit. how she so badly wanted to cross the line between friendship and something more.

by senior year, natasha couldn’t ignore it anymore. her feelings for you weren’t just fleeting glances or passing thoughts. they were there, constant, sitting beneath her skin, running through her mind like a song she couldn’t shake. but it wasn’t just a crush. it was more. she could feel it. she knew it.

the desperation kept getting worse.

it was a slow burn.

you were months set from graduating, natasha felt it was time she’d try to test her luck.

it was late into the evening at yet another party—music blaring, laughter echoing through the crowded living room, and cups of cheap beer littering the tables. one last semester before graduation, before the "real world" set in. natasha was sitting on the couch, leaning against the back with her legs stretched out in front of her. her eyes roamed the room, scanning for someone to talk to. and then she saw you.

you were in the middle of a conversation with clint and wanda, your hands animatedly gesturing as you told some wild story about a disastrous trip to the beach, the kind of tale that had everyone in stitches. natasha couldn’t help but smile from across the room. there was something magnetic about you—how you lived so fully, how you pulled everyone into your orbit without even trying. natasha had been watching you for months now, always on the edge of your space, always wishing she could be more than just a silent observer.

she didn’t know when it started—when the simple admiration had turned into something else. but now, as she watched you laugh with your friends, something in her chest tightened. this wasn’t a crush she could just ignore.

it wasn’t the first time natasha had thought about asking you out. but tonight felt different. maybe it was the proximity of graduation, the sudden realization that this was it—that you both were on the brink of leaving behind this chaotic, unmoored time in your lives. she could either stay on the sidelines or take the chance.

she stood up, smoothing out her jacket and walking across the room. her friends—clint, wanda, and sam—noticed her approaching and exchanged knowing glances, all but daring her to make a move. natasha could feel the weight of their stares, but she ignored them. she focused only on you.

"hey," she said, stepping into the conversation, a little breathless from the nerves she’d kept hidden.

you turned, giving her that warm smile you always did. "hey, nat! what’s up?"

"not much, just wanted to, uh, ask you something," natasha began, her usual confidence faltering just a little.

“i was thinking about heading to this bar later, just to get away from all… this,” she gestured vaguely to the party around them, “and i was wondering if you wanted to join me? for drinks. just us. you know, before we all get caught up in the whole graduation mess.”

it was casual, maybe too casual. but natasha didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. not with everyone watching.

there was a pause, just a beat too long, before you looked at her, a faint frown pulling at your brow. you were processing. “uh,” you hesitated, glancing at your friends.

clint, wanda, and sam all turned their heads at the same time, giving you the slightest raise of their brows. you bit your lip, clearly unsure, and natasha’s heart sank a little at the hesitation.

"i mean," you said slowly, looking back at natasha. "we’re friends, nat. i just… i’m not sure."

it was a gentle rejection, but it stung all the same. natasha swallowed, masking her disappointment with a shrug. "no, yeah, of course. no pressure." she let out a quiet laugh, her hand rubbing the back of her neck, trying to laugh it off. "i was just messing with you. don't worry about it."

you nodded, a small, apologetic smile on your lips. "i mean, i’d love to hang out more, just—"

"totally fine," natasha interrupted, her voice light but edged with something that made her own heart ache. she smiled, keeping it neutral. "maybe some other time."

she turned away quickly, but she felt your eyes on her as she walked back to the couch, her friends watching the entire scene unfold. clint raised his brows, and natasha just shook her head, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing how deeply that small exchange had affected her.

but inside, it stung. it stung more than she cared to admit. it wasn’t just a small rejection. it was the fear that maybe you had noticed her feelings all along and were just too scared to say anything about it.

that night, natasha tried to sleep, but her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. you were everything she had wanted, but in this strange, liminal space, neither of you had been brave enough to admit it.

weeks passed, the semester came to an end, and graduation day loomed on the horizon. natasha and you both moved on in your own ways, starting to make plans for life after college. but something lingered. something unsaid. life became a little more faster, and faces got a little older.

you reached out to her a few times. it was never the same as before. it was different now, with this strange tension lingering between you both. but you kept in touch, as if you both were afraid of letting go of something that might have been, something that might have still been.

and maybe it was ridiculous, natasha thought, but she was okay with it. she had loved you for years, and maybe that was the most honest thing she could admit to herself.

because even if you two had never been the closest of people, you’d always been there. always in the background, always in between. and somehow, that was enough for natasha. enough for her to hold on to the hope that maybe, one day, you’d both be able to finally figure it out.

it had been two years since you both left the university. two years where natasha had started a career in marketing, constantly moving up, climbing the corporate ladder while trying (and failing) to suppress the things she didn’t want to feel about you. she had dated, of course. a couple of short-term relationships, nothing serious. but nothing had ever lasted, and she had never quite understood why until now. the answer had always been there, hovering just out of reach, in the form of a text, a call, a passing thought about you.

as for you, you’d moved across the country for a job in graphic design. you didn’t think much about natasha at first. life had been busy—new city, new friends, new routine—but every now and then, you'd wonder if she'd thought of you. if she remembered how everything had felt when you were both on the brink of something, but never quite dared to cross the line.

and then it happened.

it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t expected. but one saturday evening, natasha found herself sitting at a bar in brooklyn after a long week at work. she’d had a rough day. one of those days where everything felt like too much. and then, as she nursed her gin and tonic, she heard someone call her name.

it was a voice she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

“natasha?”

she turned, already recognizing the voice before she even saw your face. and there you were, standing in the doorway of the bar like a memory coming to life. your hair had grown a little longer, and you looked different, older in a way that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. but you were still you—the same you who had been in those parties, those late-night study sessions, the one who had always made her laugh with a look or a passing reference.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. just stood there, eyes locking, as if trying to figure out whether this was real.

“i didn’t know you were in new york,” natasha said, her voice betraying the sudden weight in her chest. she couldn’t keep the smile from forming, even though she tried.

“i wasn’t planning on being,” you said, grinning. “work sent me here for a few weeks. i was meeting some friends, but it’s been a while, so i thought i’d just see if you were around.”

it wasn’t exactly casual. but you both knew it wasn’t entirely random, either. it felt like fate had decided that you two were finally going to do this.

you sat down, and the conversation flowed as naturally as it always had. the awkwardness of the past melted away. you didn’t need to pretend anymore. there were no more games, no more hesitations.

just you and natasha, picking up where you left off, though this time, the space between you felt a little different. there was an understanding now, a quiet knowing in the way you both spoke, a recognition that time had done its job.

“so…how’s life?” natasha asked, pushing her drink aside and leaning in a little closer.

you shrugged, but there was something different about you too, something less guarded. “it’s been alright. busy. but you know how that goes. i’ve been thinking about home, though. about—” you paused, then looked directly at natasha. “about people i should have kept in touch with.”

natasha’s heart was thudding in her chest, but she kept it together. she was a master of hiding emotions, after all. “yeah?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“yeah,” you said, with a smile that made natasha’s stomach flutter. “it’s funny how things work out. you don’t realize what you miss until you’re standing in front of it again.”

time had always been a strange thing between natasha and you—something both distant and close at the same time, like a thread that wound its way through your lives, never quite snapping, always lingering. you’d known each other for years, seen each other at parties, shared quiet moments, and laughed at the same jokes. but all that time, there had always been a hesitation. a space between the two of you, filled with something—something both of you had been aware of but had never dared to name.

it was the kind of thing that was easier to ignore in college, easier to pretend it wasn’t there while you were both busy with classes, with your lives, with the thrill of being young and not yet knowing what you wanted out of the world.

but that something between you had always been there, pulling at both of you, quiet but undeniable. the way you caught each other’s eyes a little too long. the way your conversations turned into something more meaningful without either of you intending it. the way natasha would see you at parties and catch her breath for just a moment. the way you’d smile, as if you both knew, but neither of you was brave enough to act on it.

you’d both dated people. tried relationships. but it had never lasted, had it? there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind—something missing, something not quite right. as if your lives couldn’t fit together because they weren’t ready to yet. you didn’t have the words for it, and neither did natasha. but you both knew. you always knew.

the things that had once seemed complicated—life, timing, fear—suddenly didn’t feel as big as they once had. there was a quiet honesty between you now, as if you both had grown enough to stop pretending you didn’t feel it. the awkwardness, the hesitation, the “maybe” that had been there before was gone.

it was you. it had always been you. and you knew it too.

“so,” natasha said after a beat, her voice softer now, quieter than before. “what are we doing here, really? we’re not strangers. we’ve known each other for, what, almost four years now?”

you looked at her, your lips curling into a smile that didn’t hide the tension in your gaze. “we’ve known each other longer than that,” you said. “we’ve always known.”

“i think i’ve always been afraid of this,” natasha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “afraid that i’d say the wrong thing, or that it would mess things up between us. that maybe the timing was never going to be right.”

you nodded slowly. “i’ve been afraid of that too.” you paused, then added with a wry smile, “i was never good with timing.”

“maybe we don’t need perfect timing,” natasha said softly, her gaze meeting yours with something she hadn’t let herself feel before—a quiet certainty. “maybe it’s just the right time now. after all this time.”

you didn’t answer right away. you didn’t have to. instead, you reached across the bar, your hand brushing gently against hers, and just like that, it all clicked. there was no more hesitation. no more waiting. you both knew what this was, what it always had been.

“yeah,” you said, your voice low and certain. “i think you’re right.”

and that was it.

[im-just-a-random-fandom-girl]

Hiya, I really appreciate you giving me the benefit of the doubt. I truly was not trying to wreak havoc in the tag. I should’ve tagged it as meta instead, and I’m about to go back and fix that.

Yeah I have read around, and I get the first and second points! I did notice how when it was sort of more private, Tommy acted differently. I’m not going to pretend I have experienced racism to the extent that you have as a Latina (I am Hispanic, but very much white passing), and I can appreciate that his sort of softness after the fact made you feel more comforted! For me, I just like it wasn’t enough.

As for the bit about Abby, I just think this more a disagreement of how we perceived the conversation. Yeah, I agree that Tommy expresses regret about this period of his life where he was closeted, but it feels more like sympathy for himself (which he deserves!) and judgement of Abby. Again, the casual sexism of him calling her crazy for dating a man half her age is absurd when he is literally doing the same thing.

On the fourth point, as a queer woman, queer people do not owe others any sort of label. If Buck doesn’t ever want to define himself by a label, he doesn’t have to! I totally agree that Buck was putting Tommy on the gay icon pedestal, and that’s not fair to Tommy and not what you do in a relationship. Both of them don’t really treat themselves as equal partners, and that’s not a good foundation for a relationship. Navigating new interactions is a normal part of the queer experience, and I can appreciate that Tommy has helped Buck a lot with that, but he shouldn’t turn the blame for their breakup back on Buck if he doesn’t want to do that.

I am truly sorry that this has hurt the BuckTommy fans so much! I know what it’s like to ship characters whose storylines get dramatically changed from what I felt was right (I’m a Stucky shipper!) It didn’t personally come as a shock to me, but I agree on your last point about Tommy being scared, and can sympathize with him.

Thank you again for giving me the benefit of the doubt! Not trying to change your mind or anyone else’s, just sort of get my own thoughts out of my head! Going to change the tag now

listen, i liked tommy as a character when he was friends with eddie, but he and buck being in a relationship has never made sense to me, and hated it more and more as time went on.

firstly, i really can’t get over how he treated chim and hen when he was in the 118. i get that at that point in time he was suffering from both internal homophobia and witnessing homophobia on a daily basis at his job. i get that he had to protect himself. but its possible to protect yourself without also perpetuating the problem. he was homophobic and sexist and racist, and him being closeted doesn’t excuse the former, and certainly not the latter two. i get that hen and chim forgive him, but he legit never apologized. he’s never truly taken accountability for what he did, and he honestly doesn’t seem to feel that bad about it

2) on that same note, i don’t know that buck would be able to forgive him so easily. he has such a big heart and a strong sense of right and wrong that it feels out of character for him to know how awful tommy was to his best friends and coworkers and not really care, despite the fact that, again, tommy hasn’t apologized or anything

3) everything about how he spoke about abby and their relationship was gross. “she went crazy after” and “went after a himbo half her age” is so callous and cruel. it also is casual sexism at its finest. it’s not unreasonable for abby to have felt lost after her engagement and long term relationship suddenly ended because the person she thought she wholeheartedly knew turned out to be gay. but tommy just sort of brushes it all off, dismissing the fact that he played a role in her personal turmoil, and expressing no sympathy for a person he supposedly cared for. obviously, tommy did the right thing in ending their relationship, both for himself and abby, but the way he discusses it feels cold. (also the sexism is really highlighted by the EXTREME hypocrisy in saying she went for a himbo half her age when he literally is also dating a man way younger than himself, even without knowing that it’s the same man)

4) i’ve always felt like tommy has treated buck as a “baby gay” rather than as an equal partner. looking down at people that don’t fit the mold or are young and still working things out is a problem in the queer community (of course, this is ironic given the fact that we are all about not fitting the mold society wants for us). i think tommy and josh both have some of that mentality. again, yes, tommy was trying to protect himself and yes, younger queer people will never be able to fully understand what the old generations of our community faced and experienced, but that doesn’t mean that young queer people’s opinions and feelings are invalid. like me, buck felt icky about how tommy spoke about his relationship with abby, and instead of being encouraged to open a discourse, his feelings are shut down with a “you will never understand so shut up, and, in fact, THANK tommy”. YUCK.

5) tommy just continues this treatment of buck as a clueless “baby gay” when he breaks up with him. instead of listening and trusting buck when he tells him what he wants and how he feels, tommy completely invalidates all of it. he acts as though he knows buck better than he knows himself, and acts like their breaking up is buck’s fault. ugh, the whole scene made me so angry.

i know that there are a ton of BuckTommy shippers, and i’m not trying to attack you at all. this is just my perspective, and i’m always open to discussion!

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[idealism-world]

need y'all to realize tme doesn't mean transmasc. tme doesn't even mean afab (and the idea that tma people are attacking tme people for their agab is extremely transmisogynist) a cis man is tme. a cis woman is tme. transneutral people who are afab, amab, and intersex are mostly likely tme. intersex people can be tme or tma. tme just means Transmisogyny exempt. i'm tme. my parents are tme. You are just making it endlessly harder for tma people to talk about their oppression because you think every time they say tme they're attacking transmascs. maybe if you gave a fuck about tma people you wouldn't nitpick their language. just saying.

edit: i deleted my previous edit because i realized i was being stupid as hell.

[beautifel]

i. hate that i cant ignore any longer how fucked up i am

[harrowharkwife]

x

[hellfireeddiemunson]

i have bad melted soup brain today and i hate it

[jesskasb]

EXTREMELY LONG POST AHEAD YOUVE BEEN WARNED. DO YOU LOVE THE COLOR OF MY WORDS?

i've been so scared of posting my opinions about recent media because i want to maintain some kind of unproblematic agreeable image out here. i don't want to say i enjoyed something for fear that enjoying it means i am morally required to reblog or discuss every critique others have to make sure people know i am aware that it is not perfect. i suppose this comes from this increased ideology that people who like things need to do so critically at all times, and they need to demonstrate that or they're a bad person; which is stupid, obviously, but i have somehow internalized that because i wanted to make the small of audience of this blog to know im not stupid or "problematic" or whatever. which is another stupid thing to want because this blog is supposed to be for ME and not other people, and ive always tried to uphold that mentality by posting whatever i wanted and always saying my thoughts in the tags. but obviously, my feelings have had something else to say about it and ive been holding back opinions and expressing my enthusiasm for things because of how that enthusiasm may be perceived and misinterpreted, even though im aware that everything ever will be misinterpreted by somebody eventually and that is out of your control and its ok. this dissonance between what my logic tells me and how i actually feel has been bothering me a lot. even now im like oh i should put this under a read more so it doesnt bother people! while logically i know i want to post this as is because its some meaningful introspection for ME and thats what matters, truly. it's why i have this app in the first place. so i can express myself through text in eays i can't in real life for one reason or another.

either way it seems i've fallen into the social media trap of making everything content and palatable to as many people as possible, making things relatable and clever so others will enjoy it and i will be known as someone to be liked. all for the fleeting dopamine of a like and a reblog or a follow.

and then, because these feelings frustrate me and i have been in denial about them, i have also fallen into the trap of the "let people enjoy things" mentality. that scares me because it just goes to show how easy it is for someone to slowly get on the side of perpetuating a lack of media literacy or even shit like proshipping and stuff, when actually my feelings are not related to that at all but rather a dissonance between wanting to be palatable for everyone and wanting to talk about my interests when the reality is that there is not really anyone stopping me from saying whatever i want except for myself. im the only one who cares about this and the only one that is bothered. i've always looked down on a "what will they say" mentality and i hate that i've become so used to the way ive been thinking that i started ignoring the fact that i shared the mentality.

ok im just repeating myself now. point is. i want to work on getting back the mentality of posting for myself and being honest with my opinions not because i want to start discussions or get clout for being opinionated but rather because i truly enjoy analyzing things and expressing my thoughts. so. in an effort to do just so ive decided to unpack some of the media that have really reinforced the need to conform.

• let's start with the biggest elephant in the room: oppenheimer. i know! i know. no fucking wonder. "but hear me out!!!!" (headass need to justify everything i say and do so i wont be perceived incorrectly). i went to watch it with my stepdad at 11pm after the rest of our family went out to have boba tea without us bc we were resting, even though we LOVE boba and they couldve simply asked if we wanted to go. so the whole outing to the movies was spontaneous revenge and i loved that. it was a great bonding experience. in the parking lot we found two 20 dollar bills on the floor and the way we both dived to pick them up was hilarious. he was faster than me. we got some shitty churros and no popcorn and into the movie we went. now, the movie itself, i honestly did not like it and didnt have a good time, i was trying soo hard not to fall asleep. i was sleep deprived, tired, and honestly science and politics arent my thing at all. and that is obviously beside the fact that the whole plot was hard to follow because they tried so hard to make the audience sympathize with oppenheimer and frame it as if he really knew no better than to participate in the war and making the choice to kill thousands of japanese civilizatians. i was trying not to chew my arm off at the theater. ugh.

i will say i found the use of audiovisual distortion to represent dissociation and high stress brilliant. obviously its not the first media to do this but i think it made amazing use of the audio of a theater and the nature of film. i saw that post about how "if i cant see a movie in the comfort of my house and i have to go see it at the theater to get the full experience then its not very good" and i honestly think thats bogus. in fact im glad and i agree that something that can only be experienced in a theater full of people with good audio and a giant screen has value. chris nolan may be pretentious about it and fuck him but its like. the nature of a thater itself is not stupid and streaming it is different. theaters are about getting together with fellow humans and seeing something live and valuing the fleetingness of not being able to replicate that same exact experience again. whether its a musical or a play or a film youll never see the exact same thing with the exact same audience. and theres beauty in that.

• barbie was fun. it was different and refreshing from the usual stuff in mainstream theaters and i can really respect it for that. i cant believe mattel allowed that depiction of their own company to be in there but yeah theyre winning in the end. really good marketing. when the girl called out barbie for doing irreparable damage to the feminist movement i thought that was very based... im really biased because when i was younger, as a little hispanic poc girl who was chubby and kind of weird, i was just so bitter about everything that barbie was. because she wasnt me. she wasnt like me. she was like everything everyone said was pretty and that idea of pretty wasnt me. and i hated it. i wouldnt play with my blonde white barbies and i was obsessed with the one tan barbie with curly haired i had. she was a ballerina in a blue leotard and a tutu. i took off the tutu because i thought it was too feminine and i wasnt too feminine and i wanted her to be like me. but i still knew i could never be a ballerina because i was chubby and not athletic. it was the closest a barbie doll would ever get to being me though, and i was satisfied. i ended up relating more to my entire collection of g3 ponies than barbies.

going back to the movie; i think the message is important even if it wasnt handled perfectly. its a step in the right direction. we've been talking about this for YEARS and it has finally made its way to be told directly in an extremely mainstream movie. thats good! im glad! and i had fun laughing my ass off at the funny parts with my friends. i was ready to watch it alone after a hangout with my friends but some of them decided to join me and i love it. im very happy ive found people who want to go out with me and include me and like being around me and respect me. its been a while. i coughed a lot during the movie and my friend said "...do you need a cough drop, alex" at the end of the movie and i was so embarrassed and it was funny. my car keys fell in between the seats and it was scary but the employees were really nice about it. when magic ring ken appeared i yelled COCKRING KEN! and it sent my friends and a stranger next to me into hysterics. i had a great time and i wont forget it.

• good omens. neil gaiman has been a figure of great dissonance for me. i genuinely like his books and posts but im also aware that saying you like his work comes with all this other stuff that people assume is true, especially on tumblr, because he can also be really annoying. i dont support EVERYTHING he does of course but i love good omens and at the same time i was scared of what people would assume about me for sharing posts of season 2 and being excited about it. loved the first season of good omens and i was criminally deranged about it back in 2019. i liked the new season a lot! (SPOIILERS AHEAD SKIP TO AFTER THE Picture IF YOU WANT TO AVOID THEM) i missed the characters a lot and michael sheen and david tennant are just such stellar actors and you can really tell how much they like aziraphale and crowley. and gosh i just love when everyone involved in a production is as passionate about it as fans are. i will say michael and beelzebubs thing felt really fanservicey and i wasnt the target audience for their relationship. heres some more thoughts i want to share

besides that i mean fuck i would watch aziraphale and crowley talk about the weather for an hour. their banter is amazing. i also love the final episode drama. i just love mythology and exploring how all the fantastic bullshit fits into the real world. its why i like percy jackson so much, and i think gaiman really succeeds at urban fantasies (or magical realism?? not sure) extremely well. im not familiar with the work of terry pratchett but someone whose opinion i value likes his books so i wanna check em out one day. i had a good time with good omens and im excited for season 3. got a lot of theories but im lucky i have a friend to talk that to about so i wont keep you here much longer.

• the witcher. im SO passionate about the witcher show you guys have no idea i got my entire family to watch it and im able to connect all the dots and shit i love the world building i love the characters i LOVE LOVE JASKIER. but i hate the writing. i hate that i havent read the books and im progressing incredibly slowly through wild hunt so i feel like a poser and not a true fan. i hate that its so mainstream and i hate the way that i hate that. my feelings about this are not as dissonant and strong as the past three media i listed but i feel like it was the first straw. i just have this need to justify liking it and saying oh its not a good show but i like it haha sorry. IM NOT SORRY! I ENJOY IT A LOT, FLAWS AND ALL! AND I THINK ITS GOOD BECAUSE I AM STILL WATCHING! but i will stop watching after this season i refuse . liam hemsworth makes me puke while henry cavill is not only attractive but he genuinely cares about geralt and the witcher series and i dont want to watch something where the lead is just a replacement for someone who wanted better conditions and treatment and didnt receive it. fuck

• young royals. i just shat on it heavily back when it started trending on tumblr bc i thought it was some stupid teen drug show that had some shallow romance but honestly i think it was the internalized homophobia talking idk i gave it a shot and im LIVING for the drama and the cringe that comes with being a teenager and i love the setting and i love that everyone is so flawed and human and real.

• alice oseman's work. i actually dont know much about her as a person and author but i also shat on heartstopper when it became mainstream because the tv show annoyed me. i tried it, but the first episode left me feeling uncomfortable and icked so i quit and have been hating on it since without even giving the graphic novels a glance. i read the synopsis of her novel solitaire and a review compared it to catcher in the rye and i thought that was so fucking stupid. catcher in the rye, really? the creator of HEARTSTOPPER, making something that can even be of the same tone as catcher in the rye? bah, impossible. when i picked up i was born for this, i thought itd be a shitty and fluffy fan/celebrity book but i was just so desperate for trans rep. and then i pulled an all nighter to read it and i realized it was GOOD and had a lot of layers that impressed me. i had underestimated alice oseman's writing skills by SO much and i dont like thar i was so cynical. i started reading solitaire and man. it is dark. and evidently inspired by catcher in the rye. i am not done with it yet but from what i read so far.... holden, you have some competition.

solitaire is told from the pov of the sister of one of the heartstopper voice. through this book i learned that actually the heartstopper boy has a LOT of serious issues. i wonder if the graphic novels handle it better than the tv show. i hope they do! if they dont, then , well, i can say with confidence that i enjoy her books even if heartstopper isnt my thing.

ok i think thats all. if you read all that, post picture of an animal. i dont know. like and subscribe! i am growing as a person and i think thats beautiful. whatever. rolls my eyes and walks away

[sailorsleepymoon]

My mental health is doing something weird today where I’m getting many tasks done which is good since they are very important tasks. But the creeping need to isolate myself and ruin everything good in my life and tear my skin off my body is also really getting to me.