#i'm not really looking to start a debate or discussion either

[caffeineandsociety]

There's a specific genre of shitty antisemitic joke that I have seen fly under the radar (as it was designed to) a LOT more often lately - especially since Kanye started going full mask-off nazi - so I feel the need to issue a warning about it. Namely, the genre is jokes that get spread around by people who aren't willfully antisemitic because outside of conspiracy brain rot land, it appears that the point of the joke is absurdism.

As an example, let's examine the 23-and-me lizard DNA test that I've sadly seen floating around unquestioned.

Because, see, to the average person who isn't willfully antisemitic, this genre of joke comes off as nonsequiturs, or hilarious mistakes - you, as a person with some level of basic observational and critical thinking skills, living on Earth and not in whatever batshit mirror dimension conspiracy theorists think we live in, might very well end up getting a giggle out of it because, HAH, we KNEW those DNA ancestry kits were a scam! If you're not a deliberate antisemite but not really up on the dogwhistles, it doesn't scan as anything awful because you're put in mind of things like feeding a photo of something decidedly not human into that one selfie-to-anime neural net, which sometimes works and produces interesting results because the thing is looking for specific patterns and trying to make anything fit - not things like blatantly lying about doing something like that in the hopes that normies who see the absurdity and want to have a laugh at a scummy company's expense will pass it along to people who unironically believe that Jewish people are actual literal lizard aliens and the test proves it.

This is the same strategy that guy at the game awards pulled. You, a person living in reality where the main source of political corruption is just the basic consequence of an economic system that makes power pool in the hands of anyone willing to exploit enough people, a world of banal mundane evil, know damned well that QAnon-pizzagate-satanic ritual abuse cult conspiracy bullshit is, well, bullshit, if you're even familiar with the details of what they believe at all. When someone crashes the stage and thanks Rabbi Bill Clinton, you may very well laugh because to YOU it is a blatant absurd nonsequitur.

Problem is that to someone else, someone who's deep into that shit, it's either someone letting the truth slip, or someone backing the deep state into a corner - whichever is more convenient to believe.

This is one form of how the far right uses memeification (CW: the example discussed in the link is a rape "joke") - it means something totally different to the in-group than it does to the out-group. To you, it's funny because it's nonsensical; to them, it's fun because they think they're onto something huge and they're about to blow this shit wide open and it's going to be their great moment of triumph.

I cannot stress enough that no matter how absurd an antisemitic conspiracy theory sounds to you, there are people who believe it, unironically. There are people who unironically believe that Jewish people are very literally not human and no amount of evidence to the contrary will ever change their minds. There are people who believe that we're born with horns and tails and pointed ears and have them surgically altered to fit in with good Christian humans like some kind of extremely high-stakes game of Among Us. There are people who believe that we steal, ritualistically abuse, and kill Christian babies. These beliefs, while fringe enough that, yeah, most of you who this post is aimed at have never heard them in the wild before very recently, are not nearly as fringe as you probably think they are. Just look at fucking Kanye. This asshole has more fans than there are Jewish people in the world.

So I'm begging you to please, bare minimum, be careful of "absurdist" jokes about Jewish people, especially if they reference lizards, money, banking, or government power. Also, you may see Jewish people debating how religious laws may apply to fictional creatures, but outside of that context you should also be wary of any time Jewish people are mentioned in the same sentence as vampires, dragons, goblins, zombies, fantasy demons, or any number of other fantasy creatures known for greed, feeding on humans, or both.

If the reason it seems funny to you is because you'd have to be really stupid to believe it's true or makes any kind of sense - it's probably looking for you to spread it to people who are, in fact, that stupid.

[bellarkeselection]

for cole walter, could you do one where reader replaces jackie (so her fam died and she moved in with the walter’s) and cole doesn’t really like her. one day she gets a cold, and cole takes care of her (begrudgingly) and realizes she isn’t so bad 🫶🏼🥹

Cole Walter Does Care

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun

I rolled over in my bed and felt a headache coming on the second I woke up which really sucked. Slowly sitting up I thought I would feel better that only seemed to make it worse. My nose was beginning to get stuffy and my throat felt dry. Footsteps came from the hallway and I heard whoever it was pause outside my door. “Hey Y/n, my mom is making breakfast. Woah you don’t look too good.”

“Thanks Alex - uh I didn’t know that.” I started coughing and then reached over needing to blow my nose into some tissues.

He entered my room with a sad expression. “I can get my mom to check you out if you want.”

“Please do.” I whimpered, sounding so helpless tugging the covers back over my chest.

He nodded, rushing out of the room and going downstairs to go get her. “On it, Y/n.” Once he was gone I yanked the coves over my head screaming and coughing into my blankets.

“Sounds like there’s a dying angry animal in here. Oh no sorry it’s just you Y/n.” I noticed the voice of Cole who when I peaked my head above the blanket saw that he was leaning in my doorway.

Grumbling under my breath I really wasn’t in the mood for his teasing. “Go away Cole. I’m not feeling good and you’ll just make it worse.”

“Ah now I’m offended since most people find my company to be quite enjoyable.” He walked into my bedroom sitting down on the side of my bed moving the cover down from my eyes so he could see some of my face.

“Well I d-don’t-“ I attempted to say but another coughing fit had to hit me right before his mother and Alex came back into my bedroom.

Catherine sat down and pushed Cole off the bed, putting a hand to my forehead. “Oh you're burning up. You'll just have to stay in bed today and miss the fair.”

“Okay Skylar and Tara won't be happy.” I responded in a tired breath.

She shakes her head eyeing her older son. “I'm sure they'll understand honey. Cole, I need you to stay and take care of her.”

“What the hell!” He raised his voice, accidentally cursing at his mother.

I sat upright on the pillows but had a coughing fit as a result. “No! He doesn't need to be here…”

“This is not up for discussion. Y/n you are really sick and Cole you will be staying home to take care of her. Because you're grounded after we found out you were sneaking girls out of the house. Come on, Alex.” She got to her feet and she left with Alex following her downstairs leaving us alone in my bedroom together.

Laying my head back down on the pillows I yanked the covers over my head screaming into it until Cole made a comment. “Don't think I'm happy about this either.”

“Oh sure. I'm sorry my illness prevented you from hooking up with Erin or Olivia or Paige!” I snapped at him.

His green eyes glared at me. “You don't have the right to judge my life.”

“Neither do you about me then!” I growled turning my back towards him.

Cole watched me for a little while hearing me doze off for a few hours of sleep. He sure found you annoying at times but there was something about you that he liked. It was the fact that you fought with him over the most ridiculous stuff. Most girls just fell at his beck and call except you. He walked around the room noticing a notebook laying on the desk. “Y/n's diary…hmm. I can't deny that I may have feelings for Cole even though he drives me nuts.” He debated reading it but when he flipped to one of the middle he heard you groan waking up.

“Cole, I'm gonna puke.” I moaned, struggling to get out from under the blankets.

He dropped the book rushing over to me, he put one arm underneath my shoulder and the other under the back of my knees carrying me through the door and across to the bathroom on this floor. “I've got ya…I've got ya.” He reassured me when I collapsed onto my knees puking in the toilet.

I felt one of his hands holding my hair back and the other was rubbing my back till I was finished. “Thanks Cole…”

“You’re welcome. See I'm not a total asshole.” He responded sitting across from me on the floor. His honey blonde hair was tossed and in his eyes like always.

Hugging my knees to my chest, my hair was a wreck and my nose was red. I looked like a complete mess and I didn't care for it one bit. His green eyes remained on me before I asked him not to handle the silence well. “If you wanna say something to me just go on and get it out, Walter.”

“I read part of your diary after you fell asleep. I know how you feel about me and honestly I'm shocked given how I've treated you.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was just a casual thing to say to someone.

I raised my voice in frustration grabbing a tissue when I had to sneeze two or three times. “You read my diary! Cole, you have no right to that. How much did you read - god I want to crawl in a hole now I'm so embarrassed.” Covering my face that was red as a tomato avoiding his gaze.

“Aren't you going to ask me how I felt about it?” Cole questioned with a curious look on his face.

Knitting my brows at the former star football player. “You’re telling me you have a crush on me. Yeah right. I'll believe it in another universe.”

“Do you believe me when I do this?” He shifted onto his knees coming closer to me.

Lifting my head up he cut my question off. “What are you doing-” His lips landed right on mine. Cole scooted closer and placed his hands on either side of my face. I wanted to push him away because I was sick and two because he shouldn't even couldn’t really be kissing me now.

Trailing my hands up his chest my arms wrapped around his neck and he moaned into the kiss after we had gotten closer. Cole tugged me up to sit down on his lap wrapping his arms around my waist holding me close to his chest as possible. “Cole, stop - Cole stop. We can’t be doing this.” Pushing my hands on his chest he drew back confused.

“Because you're sick. I don't care about that. I just needed you to know that I actually care about you, Y/n.” He declared still cupping my face on his hands green eyes so focused on me.

Moving one hand through his honey hair, my other drops to his shoulder blade. “I can't believe it, Cole Walter has a crush on me. Here I was thinking you hated me.” I chuckled with a half grin.

“Why did you think I only picked on you when you first got here. I figured you had a thing for bad guys in you somewhere. Just had to bring it out of ya, darling.” Cole tucked hair behind my ear before he could hear a lot of footsteps heading up the wooden stairs outside the shut bathroom door.

“What do we - uh do!” I sneezed where Cole gave me a tissue and I wiped my nose watching him get to his feet.

He scooped me up bridal style once more where I wrapped my arms around his neck enjoying the feeling of being in his arms like this. “Don't worry, we'll go to my room. They all know better than to go in there…now where we're we?” He carried me quickly out and into his room, closing and locking the door.

“Cole, I'm nowhere near ready for that kind of thing. Sorry if that disappoints you.” I apologize for crawling under the covers on his bed, blushing a deep shade of red.

He kicked off his shoes and got in beside me, gently pushing my head down in the crock of his neck so I would fall asleep. “I don't care about sleeping with you yet. I just wanted to see you blush.”

“Cole!” I punched his chest hearing him laugh and it was music to me considering he rarely ever laughs.

He kissed the crown of my head and watched my eyes begin to close shut. “I'm just playing with ya, Y/n. Now get some rest.” I closed my eyes and looped my hand with his freehand that wasn't playing with hair to make me dose off in his arms.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[royboyfanpage]

Okay, let's talk about Ollie's experience with fatherhood.

I'm an Oliver Queen apologist forever, but I think that there's a tendency in fandom to go one of two ways- "absolutely perfect dad, no flaws whatsoever" or "evil abuser who shouldn't be within six miles of a child". This isn't an Ollie exclusive phenomenon, a lot of characters and topics do fall into that black-and-white mindset. But the thing is- Ollie doesn't have to be either extreme. Particularly with Roy, who most of the debate centres around, Ollie wasn't perfect! I think there's such a rich discussion point in terms of young Roy's relationship with Ollie, so much more than just That Panel. Because, in my interpretation, Ollie absolutely cared about him, absolutely saw him as a son, but also the idea of being a father is something that deeply terrified him. The idea that this literal child being dependent on him made it feel more real, if that makes sense. Coming to terms with the fact that he was responsible for another person's life was difficult for him, and so he put up this wall- hero and sidekick. A conceptual dynamic, one that's not based in reality. He can keep that distance between himself and Roy and decide what that means, he doesn't have to be a father because that word has so many strong connotations, but he can still express that he cares about Roy, in his own way. That's why he always calls Roy 'Speedy' even out of costume, that's why his first thought is that Roy's undercover in Snowbirds. He can focus on being a good mentor to Speedy, which will have a trickle-down effect to being a good guardian to Roy, right?

Unfortunately, kids' brains don't work like that! Especially not a kid who's already lost two fathers. Roy needed a stability in his teenage years that Ollie just wasn't able to give at that time. He didn't see "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy because he loves me and doesn't know how to show it", he saw "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy, which means I'm only good as Speedy". This, at least in my opinion, is a major factor in Roy’s later self-esteem issues. Roy’s constantly underestimating himself as a hero, constantly comparing himself to Dick, and pushing himself 24/7 to improve because he internalised the idea that if he’s good, if he’s the perfect hero, then he’ll be loveable. He can’t be bad, he can’t fail, he can’t back down because if he does, he’s nothing.

It’s absolutely not Roy’s fault, but also this doesn’t mean that Ollie’s an evil neglecting abuser, either. Even the best parents fuck up, and Ollie was by no means the best parent. He took in Roy as a sidekick, as a buddy, and then never really found a way to combine the ideas of sidekick and son. He assumed that Roy would be able to interpret meanings behind gestures, which is something that Roy seems to struggle with even into adulthood. I’ve talked about it a fair bit, Roy’s absolutely someone who relies on the explicit, but he’s also not someone who’ll ask for clarification, which has caused conflict in his relationships time and time again. And while it's something he has gotten better at as he's gotten older, a 12-18 year old Roy would absolutely not be able to read Ollie's motives.

And Ollie's fear of fatherhood isn't something exclusive to Roy, either. Sure, he'd gotten better at it by the time Connor and Mia entered the picture (speaking as an oldest child myself, we are the guinea pigs of parenting, I was my mum's sibling), he absolutely still expresses this with them. I mean, just look at his face when he finds out Connor's his son.

That's the face of a man who's just had the crushing weight of parenthood slammed down onto him again, the moment Connor stopped being an ally and started being his responsibility. He's scared, because Ollie absolutely does not see himself as a good father for someone to have. This was very much present during Roy's teenage years, but particularly since this is post-Snowbirds. Both in terms of Roy developing a drug addiction and in terms of Ollie's own initial reaction to it, he immediately spirals. And, since we've already established he does not know how to process things, he lashes out at Connor.

And as for Mia, he's definitely matured significantly by the time she comes into the picture, and compared to with Roy he's a lot more open with his feelings. However!

He still won't explicitly accept the responsibility of fatherhood! Despite acting like a father to Mia in every way through his actions, he still won't use his words! Even though in the issue following, he expresses a paternal protectiveness over her.

And I think Mia's HIV diagnosis is maybe one of the biggest examples of his distancing himself and hiding his feelings, particularly when Connor asks him how he's feeling about it.

He's so fine, so totally fine, trust him when he says he's fine, totally not freaking out. He's absolutely not terrified for his not-daughter, no way.

Ollie has this fear that if he gets too attached to his kids, he's gonna end up failing them. If he keeps a distance from them, then he can't blame himself when they get hurt. Is this good parenting? No! Absolutely not! But this is also the man who dresses up as Robin Hood and who chose to die rather than lose his arm. This is not a healthy man.

But he tries, he tries so hard, even if it's in his own way. And he recognises when he fucks up! And he tries his best to mend it later on!

He's not the best at showing his kids that he loves them, but he's so proud of Roy when he becomes Red Arrow. He comes back to life to save Connor. He stands by Mia's side when she gets diagnosed and becomes Speedy. He's not a great dad, but goddamnit he's trying to be.

In conclusion, no, Ollie is not the perfect father. He's deeply flawed, and his own emotional incompetency has been and always will be a point of conflict between him and his kids. But he's not some uncaring abuser, either. He's trying.

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 13

[I struggled writing this. Again! I feel like all this science stuff I'm doing again is draining my creativity 🥲]

It had only been one day since Eve’s banishment from Eden, and yet the angels were all already discussing the future of humanity, the garden and Adam himself. Adam was sat beside Michael in the circle of stressed angels, all too engaged in their debate. Adam wasn’t even initially supposed to present in this meeting, but apparently Michael, ever so thoughtful, suggested that the first man be involved in the discussion regarding his possible future. And Adam would appreciate the gesture if only he didn’t have to bear witness and suffer through Heaven’s bureaucracy. It was one of the few things he actually hated when he used to be an angel. The meeting began early in the morning and the afternoon was fast approaching, and yet they still haven’t broached the topic about Adam. 

Damn angels and their obsession with order. Adam could feel his eyes drooping, his head nodding off, the discussion a soothing background noise; boredom and exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Beside him, Michael noticed Adam’s quickly slipping attention. Humans after all, didn’t have the same stamina and durability that angels had.

“Pardon me, I’m sure these are all very important, but can we get to the topic about Adam? It’s why he’s here to begin with,” Michael gestured towards the sleepy human. “We can continue the discussion about the others after this.”

Seeing Adam’s drained figure, the angels all agreed to pause their current discussion for later and put away their current notes, switching them for ones related to the new topic. As usual, Sera was the one to start the dialogue. With a clap of her hands, the attention focused back on her as she began to talk.

“Alright. Following Eve’s banishment from the garden of Eden, we were faced with a problem regarding their propagation. Eve’s new companion, who will be created using a part of her, will be made in the following days.” Sera placed both of her hands on the table as she looked at Adam. “Adam, you are now without a companion. We planned on creating a new companion for you but…” She glanced at Michael. “Michael had suggested we consult you first. He mentioned something about your possibly…troubled state.”

A new partner for him in Eden? Someone untainted by the fruit of knowledge? While the idea of being with someone, who was also safe and away from both Lucifer and Lilith, didn’t seem so bad, it was also someone new. Someone Adam would know nothing about, meaning another unpredictable factor. Who knows, maybe this new person would be similar to Eve or they could also turn out to be like Lilith. Either way, they would be an unknown factor. And after finally securing Eden for himself, he didn’t want to add more potential risks, especially not when he was already in uncharted territory. That and, well, the idea of opening up to someone like that again hadn’t crossed his mind for over many millennia now, and he sure wasn’t going to start again.

Adam adjusted himself on his seat, carefully thinking about the words he would say and the emotions he should express in front of the angels. With downcast eyes he answered, “I…after Eve…I don’t think I could ever be ready to be with someone new again.” Adam let a few tears slide down his cheeks, a little sniffle here and there, maybe some subtle trembling. Really, anything to gain the angels’ sympathy and pity. 

The sight of Adam seemingly in anguish over Eve’s betrayal and absence crushed many of the angels’ hearts. How pitiful. For such a delicate creature to experience such a horrible tragedy. They couldn’t imagine the scars that such events had placed on his little heart. God’s most perfect creation, traumatised under the clutches of Lucifer and Lilith. Sera placed a hand over her own heart, clearly affected by Adam’s act. “Adam, are you certain you don’t wish for a new partner?”

Adam meekly shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough.”

—-

The late afternoon sun’s gradually cooling rays shone over the serenity of the garden, coating everything in its soft orange hue. Adam leaned back against a tree as he watched the other inhabitants of the garden prepare for the incoming darkness. It was a bit odd. To have all of the garden to himself in peaceful silence. He had gotten used to a high pitched voice that used to always eagerly drag him along the garden in search of new things to try out. It was about this time of the day when he would join Eve, along with Amora, to gather tonight’s dinner. Adam felt a heavy nudge on his shoulder, and was greeted with large yellow eyes when he turned. 

“Guess it’s just you and me now, huh?,” muttered Adam as he allowed the big cat to lay its head on his lap. “What? Are you trying to comfort me?,” he chuckled. His fingers lazily petted the jaguar’s soft fur, the warmth a welcome presence in Eden’s gradually cooling air. 

Now what? Adam had achieved what he wanted, and of course he was happy that could stay in Eden away from both Lilith and Lucifer, he was also happy not to have to suffer a harsh life outside the garden. But he also couldn’t help but be a little anxious about the future. This was where things would start to really change, and while he was confident in himself, he could still only hope that this future he had carved for himself would be better than the one he had previously.

A familiar flapping of three pairs of wings interrupted Adam’s musings. He knew the owner of those wings. Only he would visit the first man in the garden at such a time. Adam turned to face the angel; a knowing look and a silent nod for a greeting. It seemed suitable enough for the late afternoon’s current undertone. 

Michael found himself a spot beside the first man, close but not too close. The two sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the sinking sun as it tinted everything in orange, before the angel uttered a word. “About your decision earlier… Are you certain with what you’ve decided?”

Adam kept his gaze on the horizon, his figure drowning in the sinking rays as it painted him all over like melting gold in a hot furnace. “I’m certain,” he uttered. 

It was one of the few things he was certain of in his newly carved future. He had lived for 10,000 years, and not once did he ever need it. There were some similar things, like his relationship with his exorcists. Each and every one of his girls were dear to him, even that traitorous Vaggie used to have a spot in his heart. Then there was Lute, who he had doted on the most. And while all of those ties were real in their own right, none of them were ever introduced to the cavernous depths of his soul. After living for so long, he realised he didn’t need it, or maybe it simply just wasn’t meant for him. That was fine for him, it was less messy that way, and he intended to keep things neat in this life too.

“But won’t you feel lonely?,” Michael asked. “Being the only one… of your kind I mean.”

Though the words were directed at Adam, Michael’s wistful gaze divulged another story. Even ever since his body was formed from stardust and golden ichor first flowed throughout his body, Michael always hadn’t been the most sociable angel. He got along fine with the rest, but there was always a disconnect. Lucifer’s fall seemed to have resulted in only widening that gap, with others seemingly keeping their distance on purpose after knowing what he was capable of. He supposed that was to be expected, he was, after all, the only angel in Heaven who had the blood of his own kin in his hands. True, he had no choice in the matter, it couldn’t be helped, but the others also couldn’t help what they felt.

Adam mulled over Michael’s words. He wasn’t sure if he would call it loneliness, but being the only person in the garden did make him feel isolated at times. Though he supposed it wasn’t really that bad. He looked back down at Amora who was snuggling on his lap, a content look on her furry face. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the warmth from her large body that she happily shared with him. Adam may be very different from the rest of Eden’s inhabitants, but he felt very welcomed and at home all the same. 

“It’s not so bad,” Adam answered, a faint smile on his lips as he brushed Amora’s fur. “I’ve got the animals with me. They never let me feel lonely. And then there’s also you.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“I’m just happy to have a home.” Adam would want for more. He had always yearned for more, to learn and experience more new things. It was why he invented so many things. From useless decorative items to important life saving techniques. In fact, one of the reasons he proposed the exterminations, besides wanting to fuck with Lucifer and Lilith, was to escape the monotony of Heaven. The exterminations allowed him to experience new things; sinners with their grotesque forms, hellish food that could kill you in a variety of ways, a chaotic society that easily shifted day by day. It was fun, plain and simple, but it was also a wandering kind of fun. If fun new things meant he would lose paradise, his home, then he would rather not take it. Dying and waking back up in Eden made him realise how he lived like a wanderer in his previous life. Moving from place to place in search of something different, but never truly having a permanent place for himself. He would have to learn to hold back some of his inclinations and unnecessary wants this time, now that he got a hold of his home back. Having a place to belong far outweighed ‘the fun stuff’. Besides, Eden was fun in its own right. It had all kinds of animals that would happily play with him despite being deadly if they were outside the garden, the garden itself was big enough to contain various landscapes from rainforests to open deserts, and most importantly, it didn’t have other people who would ruin his day, at least not anymore anyway.

There was this inexplicable look in Adam’s eyes when he answered Michael’s question. Like a wistful longing; something akin to nostalgia, like he was holding something dear that he had only found again. Just at this moment, with the sinking sun reflecting on his already golden eyes, Michael saw in Adam, just an inkling, what seemed to be an eternity of life and experience. It was surreal, it was as if there was a whole other world within the human unbeknownst to anyone but the man himself, though he knew it couldn’t be possible. So instead, he turned his gaze back to the slowly fading sun. 

What was home?

The archangel, of course, had Heaven, the place he first woke up in, the place he had spent the most time in, and the place he always returned to. Though with the recent events, that place had become a little less comforting, a little more alienating. It was still the same but also different. It was like Lucifer had never fallen, but the void of his absence permeated the atmosphere. Heaven had become uncomfortable. But Eden remained a simple comfort. Michael wrapped his wings around himself. The garden was still here and so were the animals. Then there was also Adam. Maybe that was also enough for him.

Part 12

Part 14

[2cutie]

A Touch Possessive

Kung Lao x Female!Reader

summary: 18 + content! Kung Lao doesn't particularly enjoy when you train with Tomas. He thinks that's a pretty fair thing to feel all things considered, and whether or not it was true outside his head was another thing. Whether it was his ego or denial, he doesn't think you'd be too upset if he comes up with a pretty little lie to steal you away.... You won't be, right?

a/n: pretty lil thing, innit? *pats his shoulder* dimples make my brain a bit feral. also this is longgg because I was feeling very self-indulgent. (i should probs start bulleting) but enjoy sharing my sins.

Kung Lao's gaze scans the proximity of the training field, his eyes narrowing in the sun's rays. He was looking for you - of course. When was he not?

It became more of a habitual trait at this point, and he couldn't really help it. But he had a reason this time, at least.

He was just… annoyed that you were spending time away from him. Specifically with other people.

Yeah, it was totally a reason. And no, he wasn't jealous. He had this monologue in his head everyday and every time he settled on not being jealous - therefore he wasn't.

You were a champion that Lord Liu Kang had collected; Modest, sweet, kind. A quick learner. Additionally, a great fighter. So it was really nothing short of due time that Liu kang instilled your assistance in training the rest of the champions.

Lao relished in that! He would purposefully do a poor job just to feel your hands position him to a better stance. He would work harder just to strip off his shirt because he was "sweating too much". He sent Raiden a winning smirk and wink every time you fell for it. Raiden always shook his head in disapproval.

But, that delight deflated when he realized that you would be doing the same to the others as well. Your hands on Kenshi's chest? Raiden's waist?

And when you spread out Johnny's legs with your own to show him a better way to dive out of the way? You didn't actually believe Johnny needed assistance for that, did you? The actor was totally stealing his idea!

Besides, he was your boyfriend, not Johnny.

So there he was, sulking, as he searched the Wu Shi Academy for where you were.

It was after the day's training, one where you were separated to different groups. Not only did he not get to see sweat drip off you, but he didn't get to show off for you either.

Unfulfilling.

His eyes finally fell on you. You were a small distance away, conversing the shade with Tomas at your hip. Part of his mind knew you two were discussing your martial arts - after all, Tomas was most likely your instructor of the day - but the larger, more illogical part of his brain overruled that. Tomas was looking at you with those doe eyes of his after all.

He crossed over to you in record time. He called your name, purposefully interrupting the ninja mid-sentence.

You perked off the wall, looking over Tomas' shoulder upon hearing his voice. "Kung Lao?"

He stopped when was beside Tomas. Well, until he was semi-blocking assassin purposefully but not enough for it to seem on purpose. He was smart when he wanted to be. "You, uh, busy? I need your help with.." Oh, he didn't get this far. "..Something."

You blinked. "Ah." You were mildly disinterested, but who were you to deny those dimples? You turned to Tomas, who only shook his head, dismissing you. You apologized, excusing yourself to fall in step beside Kung Lao. "What's up?"

Kung Lao couldn't resist the creeping smirk on his face. He intertwines is arm in yours, pulling you closer as if to prevent you from turning around. "I kinda lost a paper this morning. You don't mind helping me, right?"

Your face scrunched, both in confusion and disbelief. "A paper?" Seriously? That's what he wanted? You turned your head around, debating about returning to Tomas. Kung Lao walked faster. "Why not just be more organized?"

"That's more of your thing. I'm more unbothered."

"So even you admit it?"

Your cheeky comment didn't go unnoticed as he glances down to you. "It's not like I'm a mess all the time, I mean… most of the time. But not all. That counts for something."

You held back several retorts to that as he guided you to his room. He released you only once you were there, opening the door to his room. He gave a nonchalant shrug and stepped inside.

Unsurprisingly, it was in disarray, but not as much as you expected from him. You eyed it over quickly. A part of you semi-hoped this cursed paper would be in the middle of the floor or somewhere in sight so you could just leave. "What paper is it exactly?"

Chinese decor was sparsely scattered, being a spare room for the monks of the academy before their arrival. There was a crest of his heritage on the wall and the desk pushed to the wall was filled with scattered papers in his messy handwriting, all in mandarin. It seemed a fair place to start.

"Training data. I think I left it somewhere around here." His eyes follow you to his desk, some sort of shallow pride swelling in his chest to have you in his shared space. He closed the door.

"Training data," you repeat, deftly shifting through the papers. "You keep track of that? I mean, that's great. I just didn't really… expect it, I guess."

He comes closer behind you, peering over your shoulder as your muse around on his desk. He feels a little offended at that, even despite it being a lie. "I always keep track of progress and achievements."

A partial lie, anyways.

You hum in response and continue to dig through his litter. You notice that he is not at all helping, but it's not much of a shocker, really. You eyed a familiar receipt in the corner of his desk. "You know.." You pick it up, holding it over your shoulder accusatory. "If you kept track of things the same way you keep tabs of this receipt with your favourite food on it, you'd be fine."

Kung Lao snatched it back. ""Hey, don't look at that! It's the only thing that makes my life worth living, so don't you dare laugh at it!" His tone was playful and exaggerated, but it was a perfect ploy for him to move closer to you.

"Ugh, you are so dramatic," you huffed, rolling your eyes. But you couldn't exactly stop the faint blush that creeped on your cheeks upon feeling the warmth emitting just behind you.

And yes, of course - of course - he noticed. He stood right behind you as you continued your fruitless search, really just keeping your mind busy. He brushed some hair off your neck to get a good look at your face. He smirked at your reaction. "I'm simply passionate about what matters to me."

Ignoring that, you pulled away from his hand and attempted to stay focused. "You could be helping."

"I know." You sent him a look over your shoulder at his dismissive tone. "But I am helping." He continues in a low tone and his arms come beside you, his palms pressed on either side of the desk, trapping you between them. Your fingers stop rummaging when you feel him press against your back. Your eyes narrow suspiciously.. "What's wrong?" He asks in feigned innocence, his lips brushing your ear. "Did I make you lose your concentration?"

"This paper doesn't exist," you state. Not a question.

You felt Kung Lao's smirk grow against your ear. He moved down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, nodding slowly. "I know." He really couldn't even put up a lie? "I just wanted an excuse to pull you away from Tomas. He can be annoying.."

You really, really wanted to be mad at him. But his warmth, almost scorching against your back felt a little too nice and he pressed tigher to you, encasing you. You felt yourself flush. You put a hand on the desk to stabilize yourself. Focus…

"I wasn't annoyed," you attempted to argue back, keeping your tone straight. "And that's not for you to decide for me."

His right hand shifted from the table to your hip, keeping you in place. "It doesn't matter, I just don't like seeing you with him." He whispered against your neck, mouthing his lips on your skin. He moved towards your ear again, his timbre taking a firm, and almost possessive murmur. "You shouldn't be talking with him."

You felt your gut churn. That tone wasn't doing you any favours. And he knew damn well what he was doing pressing himself behind you while pushing up against the wood, the friction pressing at your core. You knew he heard you thickly swallow. "He is still my mentor," you defend, even through your stuttered breath.

"Yeah, but you don't need to train with him. You train with me too, you know?" Kung Lao defied, voice firm and possessive. His warm hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pulling you back to him tighter.

You grunted, placing your other hand on the desk. You were trying so damn hard to keep your composure, to not prize him for his actions. But feeling him press so suggestively to you, feeling the brief hard on against your ass was maddening.

He felt so annoyingly good. Your hand snaked to his wrist, squeezing a pathetic warning to him. "I am also a student. I cannot stop training simply because you're feeling left out."

You felt his chuckle vibrate beside your ear. It was too easy to sense your failing composure. His hand crept from your belly to interlock his fingers with yours, trapping it against the wood under a firm grasp. "Whatever you say," He mumbled, dripping with a smug, amused tone, knowing damn well he wasn't listening to a thing you were saying. His lips kissed the nape of your neck, his tongue running to taste your skin.

A shiver thrummed through you. How was he so good at this? You're attempting to stay determined, but your facade was crumbling. Your hand clenched beneath his, and you squirmed.

On the contrary, Kung Lao loved the way you were involuntary grinding against his hips. His lips pressed more firmly to your neck, his lips sucking at your delicate skin. His free hand went back to the side of your hip. "Ah, ah, ah," he mocked, "don't move so much."

You let out a huff through your nose. You were done with avoiding him.

But you wouldn't let him win.

In a display of insubordination, you wrapped your arm behind his neck, pushing him closer to you. You ground back on him, firm and deliberate, stealing some power back from him. He groaned, and you felt him twitch against your ass. Your fingers sank into his hair, grabbing at his ponytail.

The hand on your hip gripped tightly and he meets the angle of your hips. "Playing dirty?" He managed to get out, the natural smugness of his voice replaced by arousal.

"Like you don't like it." You leaned your head back against his shoulder, drinking in the tremors of his response. He bit at your earlobe. "You're so annoying."

"I'm taking it as a compliment," He conceded, his tongue caressing a path behind your ear. His hand trailed lower on your stomach, his thumb swiping over your underbelly.

You heart stuttered as his fingers trailed under the layer of your shirt. You tugged his head down to your height, kissing his dimple in permission to continue. You littered kisses along his strong jawline, spreading your legs and grinded against his cock encouragingly. Kung Lao leaned it to your lips, meeting your motion in return easily.

Kung Lao's hand dipped below the pants of your uniform, his dexterous fingers grazing your awaiting folds. "Gods, you're so impatient," he grunts, the rumble reverberating both beside and behind you. His voice was a blend of desire and lust as you melted into his touch.

"You're just slow," you retaliated and nipped at his neck, trying to get him to go faster already. There was no need for him to tease; you were so wet already.

He grunted at the sting of your teeth, a shudder running through him. His head pulled off your shoulder just to look down to you, his dark eyes lusted over. "I'm slow, huh?" He questioned in a low mockery. Before you could even question his response, two fingers dipped easily into you, deep. "Because I'm slow, right?"

Your whole body locked, spine arching back into him at the sudden intrusion. Neither your body or your mind expected to be stuffed so suddenly, and an absolutely pitiful whine broke from your throat. "Ah, fuck, you asshole," you panted, his fingers already setting a steady pace in fucking you open. Your slickness made you take him easily.

"Oohh, look who's getting bratty now," Kung Lao taunted with a sharp flick of his wrist. His simper spread when he felt your hot walls clench around him.

You didn't - couldn't - manage a reply to his irritable remark. Not when his fingers worked you skillfully and steadily.

And by the gods was he good with his fingers.

You were practically convulsing gently against his frame, trying to escape from the growing pleasure that was already gnawing inside you at his fingers alone. Your unbound hand gripped at his forearms, his wrist, his fingers - anything you could reach, trying wordlessly beg him to ease up.

You were eating your words now, feeling yourself mend to a moaning debauched mess, so pliant and submissive. His fingers scratched you deep and practiced; he knew your body all too well.

His eyes burned on your skin as he watched your every reaction. You writhed against his solid frame, but your body was at the mercy he didn't feel like giving you. His sighed, so satisfied, as his gaze fell on how well your pussy swallowed his fingers and drooled over his wrist. "Now look at you, so desperate and helpless.. all from just my fingers." He punctuated his words with a crook of his knuckles, hitting just right to release a whine of pleasure from you.* "You were saying you wanted me to go faster?"

Your mind took too long to process what he had said, and by the time it did, his fingers fucked were pumping in you faster, rougher. His gaze swallowed you, watching your crumble of power.

"K-King Lao, Lao, please, L-Lao," you spluttered, clenching around his fingers as you nearly sobbed. Your hips jerked in time with the thrusts of his wrist, your body chasing the pleasure without your mind's permission. His arm wrapped around your waist, enforcing you to keep partaking in the assault of pleasure. "I-I can't-"

"Yes you can. You can take it," He intercepted, keeping you pinned against him, taught. His fingers were relentless. "Don't tell me. You're overwhelmed by my fingers alone?" He purposefully hit the same spot within you, abusing it over and over again, just to feel that delicious jerk of your hips against his hardening dick.

You want to say more, but you find yourself unable to do anything more than just to stutter out breaths and broken sobs. You feel his other hand snake from your hip down, and you blush hard at the realization of what he's doing.

He spreads your folds lewdly, just for the added torture and for his own satisfaction of having a better look at his assault on you. You were dripping for him, your pussy looking so abused and full as your swallowed around his knuckles, painting them in a clear essence. Your pants fell off your hips and to to the floor finally. You kick them hastily off your ankles, not caring where they land.

You're thankful he's mostly supporting your weight. Your own legs were not an ally anymore, not having the strength as you only leaned back into him, seeking his touch and warmth. Your head fell into his strong bicep, muffling your moans into the muscle. You had half the nerve to sink your teeth into him for torturing you like this, but you were enjoying it more than you were willing to admit.

"All spread out in front of me. How can I not just take you?" Kung Lao's own breath was turning hot and ragged, the puffs hitting against your skin. He was so hard against you now, his eyes lusted over. His tongue darts out to wet his lips while his thigh snakes inbetween yours to open you up further for him.

You felt so exposed, so vulnerable and yet with him it felt so right as he admired you, devoured you with his eyes. Relentless, he pressed his thumbpad against your clit and you let out a shrill of a moan, tears hazing your eyes in pleasure. You felt your clit tremble. "L-Lao, gods, Lao.. I.. I'm going to.."

Lao chuckled deeply at the song of your shattered moan. "You're gonna what, hm?" His fingers kept their steady pace, fucking up into you while his thumb applied more pressure, swirling. He was determined to see you fall apart, to see your fall from grace. "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nodded quickly. There was no use in lying. Your mind was completely unraveled, only focused on the rising glow inside of you. Your hips rode in time with his wrist.

"Do it. Come for me." The command was a hiss in your ear, low and gravelly.

That sent you over, as if his permission held power over you.

Your release hit you - hard and crashing. You convulsed in his hands, her body arching and twitching. Kung Lao worked you through it, working you through you even as the white started to faze out of your vision. He held you firm, wanting to feel each twitch of your climax.

You sobbed and moaned his name, the only thing your mind could process, quivering as you came undone and when he worked you into overstimulation. His fingers slowed as you started to drift away from your high. The new wetness making his coating his fingers thickly.

You stuttered at the movement on your oversensitive walls. Your grimaced, shuddered. "Kung Lao," you warned. "Please."

Alright, he could be nice.

He let his fingers slip out of you, missing your encompassing heat as soon as they left you. His fingers were stained with your mark, your release dripping down his fingers. He held his hand in front of you both, forcing you to get a good look at it all the same. You painted him so beautifully.

There was a primal satisfaction he felt thrum through his body. Kung Lao took a moment to admire the sight, feeling the slick between his fingers. "Gods, look at you," he murmured, full of pride and desire. His eyes shifted to yours as he brought his fingers to his mouth, pressing them to the flat of his tongue. He slowly, savoringly licked them clean.

You groaned at that, a spike of heat bubbling in you again. You took the moment to shallow out your breathing. "You're so gross."

"You love it," he hauntingly responds, his tongue running over his thick fingers, cleaning every last drop you left on him. When he was satisfied, he hugs you to his chest. The same hand finds course to your chin and tilts your head back.

Your mouth was parted as you panted, meeting his eyes back with your glazed ones. Kung Lao's eyes scanned over your face, committing the painting of your features into your brain

"You look so beautiful when you come undone by me." He leaned his mouth forward, hovering just above your lips. You think he's going to kiss you, until his fingers press your lips. The same fingers you came on. "Taste yourself," he ordered.

You didn't protest. His fingers dipped into your mouth and you pressed your tongue to them. Your taste was faint, but still you obediently listened to him. As his fingers pushed deeper, your tongue wraps around his index, slick and warm before you swallow. You suck on them, your eyes never leaving his as you watch his desire unfold in his eyes.

"That's it," he praises. "Taste good, don't you?" You had enough sense to glare harmlessly to him. He takes his fingers out when he's content, a trail of saliva falling disconnecting. "You look adorable trying to glare at me when you're flustered and dazed."

"I can't believe you lied about some paper just to feel me up." You tried to break out of his hold, your mind catching back up to remind you that you should be annoyed with him.

"Hey, hey, don't get mad at me. I was just having some fun." His grip was unrelenting. "I feel like you should reward me for even letting Tomas flirt with you in the first place."

You were allowed enough room to turn in his hands, facing him with an unamused look. "He was not flirting with me," you argued back. "And you don't get anything just for being jealous."

Kung Lao sent you an incredulous look. "Are you really truing to deny it? You must be completely clueless then. It was so obvious. And I wasn't jealous," he added on petulantly.

"Tomas was not.." You trailed off, thinking back to some parts of your conversation with the assassin. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lao had a point. "It's not important," you ignored his smug 'hah!'. "I wasn't flirting with him, anyways."

"You're just as oblivious as always," he retorts. "And just because you weren't doesn't mean anything. I don't like how he was all over you. He knows I'm yours."

You ignored how your heart clenched when he said that. "You are still not getting anything just because you got jealous. And yes," you tacked on quickly, "You are jealous."

"Wha-" He sputtered. "I am not jealous! Why would I be jealous of him of all people?" He huffed, an indication that he was, in fact, incredibly jealous but refused to admit it.

"Possessive then? Infatuated?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "Envious? Bitter? Which synonym would you prefer?"

Kung Lao releases a frustrated huff, knowing this was going nowhere. His eyes flicked away as you continued to drive in your point. "Fine, I was.. a little jealous. Are you happy now?" His tone was still defensive, but there was a small glint of resignation.

"You were all of the above," you corrected, eyeing him.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, you got me. I'm infatuated, envious, whatever. Anything else you wanna add to the list?

"Sure," you practically purred and reveled in the way his shoulders slumped. "Egotistical, flamboyant, cocky…" He were enjoying the sulking look of his. "And looks so damn good when he admits it."

His brown eyes look back at you, that smirk returning to play on his lips when you mentioned the last part. His ego never took a bruise for too long. "You forgot humble and modest.'

"Oh, right," you muse, matching his energy. You smirk up to him, unfolding your arms as you cock your head to the side. "The great Kung Lao."

His eyes seem to gleam back to you, enjoying the banner. A sense of confidence washed over him at the title. "Greatest warrior of all time." So self-assured.

"And exactly what does the great Kung Lao think he deserves since he so believes he's entitled to something?"

"I think as the Great Kung Lao I'm deserving of many things. Recognition, respect, admiration…" his eyes flicker down to your form, his gaze walking over you "Among other things Tomas won't get."

You give him an unimpressed look. "And what do you want now?" You ask instead.

"Well, for one" He stars, "For you to stay far away from Tomas. And for two.." Kung Lao moves in, backing you up against the desk once more, the back of your thighs digging into the wood "I think I deserve a little reward. For being honest about my feelings." Your legs bend until you're sitting on the edge, and neither of you care about the papers you may be crumpling. His hands are on either side of you again. "A nice, hard, long reward."

Your hands rest of his shoulders, eagerly squeezing at his muscles. His hands come to pull apart your thighs to slot between them. Your turn to lick your lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lao's body is firm as he pulls you by your legs to him. "And I think I'll take here, right now."

"On the desk? Seriously?".

"What? You don't like the idea of it?" His hands explore the contours of your sides. "You didn't mind a moment ago."

You sigh, defeated, and instead pull at his vest. "You're overdressed," you mumble, rising your eyes to his expectantly.

"I can fix that, easy." He moves away just enough to start undoing the buttons. Each undone button is a tease to his tanned skin below, a shade that has your mouth watering in anticipation. He pulls it off his arms, tossing it somewhere on the floor. His chest is bared to you, muscles rippling with the movement.

Your eyes roam him appreciatively and your hands find his skin again, massaging into his toned chest. He's well aware of how built he is, and even more aware of how much you appreciate it.

Kung Lao leans back, his face close to yours as he sends you that cock-eating smirk. "You like the sight, huh?" He teases. Like he had to ask.

"So obnoxious." You pinch his dark nipple in retaliation.

"Hey!" He lets out a shocked gasp, and his chest twitches at the sudden pinch. "Watch it now, that's sensitive." He pouts, rubbing a hand over the abused peck. He gives a brief glare before his smirk creeps back. "Do it again."

You let out an exasperated huff. "Ruining the moment."

He laughs, settling his grip on your hips. "You never complained before. Besides, you're the one who pinched my nipple."

"As if you didnt' like it," you retorted. You brought your hands to his face, carressing over his soft skin, your eyes drinking in his spellbinding features. Your fingers trail over his soft lips, the curve of his smile before tracing the dents of his dimples, staring at them in awe.

The dents deepened. "A fan?" His lips kiss your fingertips.

"Unfortunately."

"Only unfortunately? That hurts." His large hands squeeze you. "Can't help I have a handsome face. Lucky you, hm?" His self-assured confidence was back in full force it seemed.

"Hm," you repeated, matching his tone. "Looks ever better between my thighs."

There was a nice reaction. His eyebrows shot up at your boldness, his teeth peeking beneath his lips. "Is that an invitation?" He asks, voice lowering to a more seductive undertone. His hands shifted the inside of your legs, pushing them.

"Take it as a suggestion, if you will."

His hands stopped the junction of you pelvis. "I think I'll have to take you up on that." He kneels on the floor, quick and impatient, forcing your legs to expose yourself in the process. He's practically drooling already, and you were already bare, ready for him from the previous sin. Your pussy was a delectable sight but he still managed to trail his eyes back up to you when he heard the quick intake of breath.

Your hand shifted to the back of his head.

"Eager?" He teases, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin. You have half the mind to tell him to shut up but the words are lost when he leans in, his tongue licking a long stripe up you.

Your whole body jolts from the contact, and his hands have to hold you down atop your thighs, keeping them spread so you don't squeeze him. Not just yet, anyways. When he presses his lips to yours, sucking, a squeak leaves you and your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at his scalp.

He can feel you twitch and squirm, both beneath his palms and on his tongue. His ego inflates at the sound of your pleasure. He chuckles, the deep vibrations coursing inside of you. "Sensitive, aren't you?" He teases between licks, his tongue lapping at the wetness unfolding before him. You can feel yourself opening to him. His fingers dig dents into your plush thighs, keeping you in place as he continues, dipping his tongue inside of you.

"Oh gods," you whimper. You can't manage a reply, not right now. You undo his ponytail, letting his hair fall free to his shoulders, and you grip it to ground yourself.

Kung Lao lets out a low moan as he swallows your lather, a taste he can never be filled of, and you jolt at its vibrations. His eyes open to see you, drinking in that delicious look of ecstasy on your face. It spurs him on, his tongue working inside your hot folds with more fervor. "You're shaking," he murmurs between sucks, and his eyes are blown wide as watches between your thighs, full of hunger.

You know that, damn him. But your face still flushes deep red from hearing it from him and you whimper, trying to stifle your moans. Seems you're being stubborn. He can't have that; He'll just have to pull them out of you.

Kung Lao sucks on your clit, grazing it just lightly between his teeth, before his tongue flattens against it to soothe it. He places open mouth kisses to your folds. He wants to hear every sound, feel every whimper and gasp of pleasure on his tongue and lips. He wants it all to be for him. His tongue rides inside you, moving quick and with purpose.

You pull him more taught, pressing the both of you closer, to have him deeper. He sucks and you jerk, a moan leaving deep within your chest. His hands fall away from your thighs, instead dipping underneath your hips and crushing you to him. His mouth covers the whole of you, and he moans in satisfaction as your thighs instantly squeeze around his head, twitching and trembling. An approving grunt follows.

He has more access to you, his tongue exploring each wet cavern and crevice of you, and you can feel each path it takes, each thrust the appendage pulses into you. You're not sure if you can decide if you like his tongue or lips on you better, but fortunately you don't have to decide.

He loves every second of this, loves every drop you make for him to swallow.

Your lips are parted as you heave your breaths, the blush running down your chest and dusting your shoulders. He doubles his efforts, his tongue fucking furiously against you. He wants nothing more than to see you writhe and cry out beneath him.

And yet, when you feel yourself fading, can feel yourself getting too far gone, he stops. Sudden and short, and you feel empty as his and unfulfilled as his tongue sinks out of you.

You hear him growl as he pulls away, not entirely wanting to himself. But he's craving you carnally.

You whine in protest, panting. His chin is wet with your slick and it makes your body flame hotter.

Kung Lao's eyes are darkened with desire, his own breathing ragged. He can still taste you on his tongue, can feel the evidence of his work on his chin. "You taste so good," he praises as he licks his lips. His hands squeeze you encouragingly. "But I need more. I need you."

He rises to his feet without another warning, his body towering over yours since you slipped down to your forearms. One hand stays upon your thigh, the other coming to caress your face, his thumb tracing your plump bottom lip. "I need inside you," *he mummers, voice rugged. His body presses against you, his aching cock pressed right up to your clit through the confines of his fabric, but you still felt it twitching when he feels your wetness touch it. It's evident how much he desires you.

"I think you may have a kink for desk sex," you comment idly, your breath ghosting his lips. You shudder at how hard he is.

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a deep kiss. But it's short before he pulls away, his breath hot as he responds. "Maybe." His hand slips to your neck, a shiver running through you. "I think it's just you." He pushes you backward until your back is laying on the desk.

"That's so stupid and cheesy," you comment but bite your lip. He grabs at the top of your uniform and slides the rest of it over top of you, leaving you just in your bra. His eyes soak in the sight hungrily, greedy. It cups your breast so nicely…

But no as perfect as it would be with his hands. With that though, he gropes your bust, pushing the plush of it up against your bra, plumping the skin. He nearly pants at that alone. Maybe he was a boob guy afterall.

It takes his mind a moment to process you responded. "I know you don't mind it." His hand continues to knead over the lace of your bra, a touch possessive. His eyes have a dark gleam to them.

His hand pushes beneath the band of your bra, pushing it up until your bare breasts bounce out below and he wastes no time in pressing his palms to them. You arch into his touch.

A hum of approval sounds in his throat. The peak of your nipples are enticing, and he runs it between his fingers, feeling it harden at the attention. He presses the peak with his thumb, his eyes roaming to your face to watch your expressions.

"You're being handsy," you comment, pretending as if this was having no effect on you.

He tilts his head. "Can you blame me? You're just too tempting." He shifts the bra off you afterward, another garment falling somewhere to the mess of his floor. "There's so much I want to do to you.."

"Why don't you start with kissing me?"

A soft chuckle leaves him. He presses flush against you again, taking in the sight of your flustered skin. "I'm definitely doing that," he mumbles over your lips, teasing you before finally capturing yours in a deep, passionate embrace.

His tongue wastes no time in licking into your mouth, tasting, his hands holding you in place as he tastes you hungrily. You kiss him back with the same fervor, but you let him dominate the path of your lips, the ferocity of the moment. Your legs encompass him, wrapping over his sharp hips. You grind up into him. moaning as he meets your movement, his desire so hard as it slides against your wanting folds. Your fingers find their way back to his hair.

"I have a question," you murmur inbetween of kisses and you nibble on his bottom lip before salving it with your tongue.

Kung Lao shudders. He breaks his next kiss, keeping close as he looks down with lidded eyes. "Listening."

"Can you just get the fuck inside of me already?"

His tongue rolls over his teeth, dimples returning. "So bossy." But his hands are already moving down to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down without a waste of another second. There's a bit of arrogance in his expression when he's there nude above you. "I like it. But can't you wait a little bit longer?" He's purposefully teasing you.

"Make me wait any longer," you started, a grumble in your chest, "And I'm going back to Tomas."

A laugh escapes out of him, his head dipping back in amusement. When the laugh ends, his head dips toward you again, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and a flash of possessiveness. He leans in, his lips hot against your ear, his voice dipping low and dangerous as he speaks. "Don't you dare every joke about that," he nearly growls.

"Then get on with it." You lick a hot stripe from the curve of his collar bone, up the length of his neck, tasting his sweat and pulse beneath his tongue. You stop at his chin, placing a wet kiss there. The sight of his thick, twitching and curved cock nearly makes you feral. Precum drips out of its slit and your mouth waters.

Kung Lao shudders overtop of you, a moan escaping past his lips. His self-control is fading, the desire of how badly he wants you surging forth. It was driving him wild.

He finally kicks off his pants completely.

You are both bare and exposed, the heat between the both of you scorching. Your hands seek his skin, following the valley of his contours before finding purchasing in wrapping around his neck, keeping him close to you. Your breaths mingle, tasting each other's. You're so ready for him, it almost hurts with every pulsing throb that runs through you. You peck his lips, looking into his eyes as you await him.

You don't dare to blink. You always loved watching his expression when he sunk into you, afterall.

He sigh when he finally, finally, lines himself up to you.

His chocolate burn you, committing the feel of your legs around his waist to his vast memory of you. His heart is pounding in the confines of his chest, his body tight with need for you. "You're beautiful," he can't help but mutter, his words barely more than a whisper. He drinks in your every feature, his breath catching in his throat as he finally, slowly, pushes into you.

His girth stretches into you and your warmth envolpes him, so easily encompassing, your body familiarized with every part of him. You grunt at his entrance, your head dipping back onto the desk. Your hips arch up into him, his cock curving into you deeply. He holds you steady.

You're so tight, so hot, so wet. So perfect for him.

Your hand squeezes the back of his neck, the other raking your nails into the curve of his back as you ground yourself into the moment. "Kung Lao," you moan out his name, watching his eyes dilate, his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure as he hilts into you.

He's always so expressive in that moment, with how his lips part open, his eyes haze beyond his control.

"You feel so good," he grunts, ragged and deep, his lips still parted as he breaths out the words. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment at sensation of your nails dipping into his skin, his body rigid with pleasure. He loves that sound of his name on your lips, the way you say it; the way you need him in this moment.

He begins to move, his hips thrusting into you slowly at first. His hand bruise your hips as he tries to maintain the last threads of his control. His eyes open to fixate on your face.

He didn't need to wait for you to adjust. Not when you were so used to him, not when he prepared you so well. He moves inside of you deeper, accumulating you to his increasing movement. His breath fans off your skin, both of your moans slipping into the other's mouth.

You're so slick around his cock. He opens you wider for himself, a hand holding you down on your thigh, while the other glides to the dip of your knee and raises your leg up, settling it over his shoulder to spread you. His angles his hips a new angle, delving into you deeper.

You can practically see the moment in his eyes when he feels you fully adjust to him, the flash of lust over his pupils when he knows he can pummel you. He marks your plush skin possessively, his thumb stroking the skin that plumps under his grip. He drinks in every twitch, every pass of pleasure on your face and every moan that escapes from your lips. His pace increases steadily.

"You're so pretty, Kung Lap," you praise and he kisses your knee. "I like when your hair is down. Fuck, you feel so good." Your hips undulate as his thrusts turn more purposeful, more pointed.

Your compliments wash over him, his pulse jumping. Something in him always burned when you praised him, something primal. "You feel amazing," he responds, hips thrusting faster into you, your skin slapping off each other, the sound filing into the background.

You pussy clenches around him, pulling a moan from the both of you. You shiver at the sound of his moan, a ripple of pleasure coursing through you. You can hear how wet you are becoming, the lewd sound of your sex filling the room, amplifying your shared lust. The desk begins to creak beneath you as he picks up his pace to something more relentless.

Kung Lao's eyelids flutter again. You were going to kill him with how much you twitched and clenched without realizing. The desk was a countertenor to your lyrics of pleasure, urging him on, riling him to to pull more from you.

"You're so tight," he grunts.

You cursed below your breath. He hits into you so deep, so bruising. "You make such pretty sounds, Lao," you whisper. "Please keeping moaning. F-for me."

Your words course a shiver down his spine. He ruts into you, and it earns a deeper and more guttural sound from him. He pushes your thigh further up on his shoulder. "Don't stop talking," he growls out, his breathing coming out more heavy and broken as his thrusts stutter.

You poke an eye open, watching his sanity crumble. Your other eye opens. "You like when I talk to you?" You ask around broken moans. "Like when I praise you for being a good boy?'

Your eyes paint with lust when he nods, his eyes nearly rolling back at the title. "I love it," he gasps, steadying his weight on an arm as his thrusts slam into you. Your voice, your choice of words, drive him wild. His hips buck into you more urgently, less rythmatic, relying more onto his fraying instincts. You know his you a bruise in shape of his hand by tomorrow. "Do not stop. Please don't stop."

Who were you to deny that? "The great Kung Lao falls at such simple words.. So beautiful when he's like this." You moan at a particularly harsh thrust, spine jerking into him* "So pliant. My good boy.. good puppy."

Kung Lao nearly whines at that. You both demean and praise him as one, and he can't resist the pull it has over him, his movements turning sloppy as he ruts into your hips. He released a loud moan, his eyes practically pleading with yours. "I'm your good boy," he agrees, his body all but melting, his hips driving into you with a desperate need.

And yet you crave even more. You know he can give you more. "Don't be so gentle with me, pretty," you coo. "Go harder. Be rough. You can do that for me, can't you? Baby?"

A guttural moan passes his lips at the neediness in your request. He likes it rough. He loves it even more when you give permission to be rough.

"Anything," he nods. "Anything you want." He rightens his grip on and does an experimental thrust into you, harder, brutal as he drags you down onto him in time with his plunge. He doesn't wait for a response, diving right into a savage pace, jackhammering into you at an animalistic rhythm. His muscles strain, but gods he needed this.

The force of his hips send the desk into an endless creaking state that threaten to splinter, scraping against the floorboards. The back of it bangs against the wall with each calculated thrust, but neither of you can find a care to stop. A large part of him is riled knowing someone could hear you both, knowing that they're hearing him claim you.

"T-that's it," you affirmed. "Y-yes, Lao. Doing.. so-so good. Feel so good."

"You're mine," he states with a deep growl," the thought of someone - hopefully Tomas - hearing this was driving him to an almost overwhelming state. His hips bounced off yours in an impairing force, the sound of your coupling growing desperate, urgent.

"Yours," you confirmed. Your head throws back, your throat presented to him. Tempting… "F-fuck, Kung Lao..!"

That smirk returns to his lips, seeing the expanse of your throat bared to him. His head dips to it, his lips sucking over your pulse point. His teeth graze it, teasingly. "You have no idea how good you look like this.."

Moans spill from you, falling from your lips in an overflow and he soaks the vibrations of them, bites them. Your nails leave crescent dents into him, red marks burning into his back.* "Tell me about it," you request in a helpless whimper.

His teeth pave a burning pathway to the side of your cheek, his deep grunts filling your ear. "The way you open up for me." he starts, his voice sensual and gravelly with need, his body practically molding itself against you as he bounces you off of him. "The way your pussy takes me, the way your body responds.. Your moans.."

"Yeah?" Your urge him on, your own body responding to his words. "How wet I get for you?"

Kung Lao moans, the sound guttural. His lips find your jawline, pressing nibbles across it. He's driven by your words. "So wet, so tight."

The best part about that was just how amplified it made the sounds between you two. The loud, wet squelch. It made everything so much more intoxicating.

"You do it to me, it's all you, K-Kung Lao," you sputter out. Your lips messily find his.

This was so obscene, so disgustingly perfect. "All me, no one else," he growls between your tongues' intertwining, his pants hot and heavy as his thighs slam off yours. "No one else can make you feel this."

The hickeys he left tingle on your neck, and you relinquish in their burn. Your tongues dance in a heated, messy display, hands groping any part him you can reach. You find the column of his throat and you squeeze, firmly. "Only you," you agree. "S-so keep fucking me, Kung Lao. Make me come on you, let me feel - fuck - feel you inside me.. Please? So I know I'm yours. I-inside and out."

Kung Lao's lips part in delight, in pure pleasure at the restriction around his throat. The sound of your light begging, telling him to make you come? He would do anything you asked in that moment. "Fuuck, you're mine."

His hands grip onto the underside of your hips and lift you, the change of inclination allowing him to thrust into your warm cavern deeper.

Your moans leave you without any sense of control or restraint. You can only willingly take what he's pounding into you, your mouth agape as moans stream out of your raw throat. You're burning, so is he, and you can feel the familiar urge settling in your stomach.

He knows you're right there on the edge because he's there too, but his focus is entirely on you. "Come for me, baby girl," he grits out, driving into his hips. "I need to feel you." He grunts out your name, and you think that was the thing that truly breaks you.

You bury your fingernails further into him, ground yourself, overwhelmed by him. You moan his name loudly, the only thing your mind could process onto as you came for the second time, more immense than the last.

He watches you you fall apart beneath him, your climax painting you into the perfect picture of debauchery. Your inner walls tremble and grip him, aside your spiraling cries, and it's almost enough to send him following right over the edge. Almost. "You're perfect," he gasps out, gripping your thigh closer to him, using it as an anchoring point to plow into you.

Your breath remains shuddered, moans still slipping past your lips as he continues to fuck into you even in your hazed, barely there mindset as you tried to find solace after your release. Your hips jerk gently out of your control, bucking back up to him as he chases his own ecstasy. Your eyes are blurred, pupils blown wide as you keep your vision trained on him.

One look at your eyes and he knows he's done for, but he holds on, stuttering with more urgency. "I'm close," he rasps out, strained. "So close."

"Please," you beg to him in a soft, needy whisper. He leans back over you, pressing his head into your shoulder. He can practically feel himself tear apart.

Your arms wrap around him in a secured embrace, feeling the way you claw onto him in anticipation for his own release. He faltered, if only for you.

It pushes him into his own pleasure, a lengthy moan escaping his throat, his body tensing while his hips mercilessly still plow into you, burying your head deeply into the crevice of your neck as he comes inside of you. "Fuck," his hisses as he rides through his orgasm, "I'm so-I- you-"

He's sputtering nonsense, his mind so far gone.

"That's it," you whisper encouragingly, shifting your hips to feel his warmth cradle the inside of you, the heat spreading into you deeply. You milk him for all his worth and when he doesn't have more to give, he slows speed down, his thrusts turning soon shallow.

Kung Lao can feel himself shuddering against you, his body reeling from the pleasure still coursing through his veins, the adrenaline that still pumps through him with every hammering pulse of his heart. He's completely wrecked, utterly spent, but he can't bring himself to move away from you, not just yet.

You are in no rush to escape from him either. You just hold onto him there, your bodies intertwined intimately as you bond in the mutual afterglow. He's still inside of you, entrapping his release inside of you, hot and filling. Your fingers glide over the skin of his mark you marked, a comforting sensation for him, while your others glide themselves through his hair. It's quiet between you two as you share a few silent moments

. You nuzzle your cheek on his head, peppering kisses to the crown of his hair. Your pulse steadies in his comfort and you let out a small, content noise. "So good for me," you praise after a pause, when you trust your voice to speak again.

But apparently his mind was already back because you can feel his ego practically bolstering, his senses flooding back into him. He pulls slightly back, hovering closely above you with a self-satisfied look in his eyes. "Perfect, aren't I? He grins. "I do come from a long line of-"

"You're so unsexy." You push his face away from you.

He cackles, his lips widening honestly. He grabs at your wrist, holding it so you can't push him away. "So what? You love it. Don't deny it, you think I'm great."

You make a noise, shaking your head at his pride but even you can't help the sound of affirmation that leaves you. You caress his cheek and you sigh again, silently, your eyes softening in adoration. "Yeah," you begrudgingly agree. "I do love you."

Oooh, he's never letting you live down those words. He cranes into your touch. That winner smirk of his dissolves into a genuine one, his eyes softening. "You better love me," he answers, tone turning more affectionate. He places a kiss to your palm. "You're stuck with me forever, you know that right?"

"Only if you don't burn the world down before then," you confirm.

"I'm not that bad," he protests but there's cheekiness bordering his voice. "I might destroy a few things. But I'm a perfect angel, really."

You want to scoff at that. This saint just committed several sins with you. You raise yourself up and he pulls himself out of you, humming at the loss of your contact. You feel the mess pool between your legs and you grimace. "If you're such a saint, how about you being so generous and carrying me to the shower?"

Kung Lao isn't really listening to you, passive as he takes satisfaction in watching his come pour out of you instead. But he eventually looks back to you. "Demanding as usual." He shakes his head in mock disapproval. "But," he concedes, lifting you easily into his arms. "I suppose I can indulge you once in awhile."

"My hero," you pride him flatly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His chuckle runs through you in his chest and he squeezes you as he carries you into the adjourned bathroom with prideful strides. "You really should be more grateful, you know," he teases. He sets you gently down in the shower, ensuring your legs can stand on their own before he releases you.

You don't reply for a second, focusing on stabilizing yourself. "You're staying, right?" You don't voice it, but it's an obvious plea for him to shower with you.

Lao raises an eyebrow at you, clearly saying: 'Of course I'm staying', as if he was offended you even thought differently. He steps inside of the shower after you, closing the distance between you and him again. He smiles down at you and walks you back under the water spicket.

You smile up to him, your hands finding trails over his arms to take. You know you really shouldn't tease him, but you just can't help it… "Wanna invite Tomas, too?"

Bad choice for you. His hand was on the nozzle and upon hearing your words, he stops and looks down on you. Did you seriously just ask him that?

"He has his own." His answer was short.

He just.. can't help it when he feels a bit vindictive, twisting the shower on to rain freezing water down onto you. His expression clearly communicated that that's exactly what you deserved and he holds you there tight as you shriek and try to escape.

He watches the water crusade over you, your body shivering and he doesn't fight the satisfied look on his face.

"Lao!" You shriek, your hair weighing down under the cold divets of water. "You asshole!"

He sighs in exaggerated bliss, obviously enjoying the desired effect it had on you. He holds you tighter to him, his body radiating a warmth that contradicts the cold water pouring down on you. "You know you deserved that."

You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. His gaze follows the trail of water running down your body, following the lines of your curves. Your nipples perked, hardened. But when you shiver again, your teeth clattering, he finally finds some mercy and turns the water to warm. He moves himself under the stream of water as well, letting it rain over you both. He sighs at the contact.

You harmlessly glare up at him. "You are such…" You honestly had no good comeback.

"Can't help it." His voice lacked remorse. "You provoked me."

"Pain my ass," you mutter beneath your breath, but you know damn well you partially deserved that.

But hell, if you didn't absolutely adore him...

"You have a nice ass," he adds after a moment.

"Lao, if you don't shut up for at least two minutes.."

[buckets-of-dirt]

(ID: A screenshot of tags that read "#Prev what are some alternatives to the word primitive that are less derogatory" /end ID.)

@panicdeleter I'm responding to your question on a new post so that the op of the original doesn't get this in their notes because answering in good faith is going to take a lot of explanation.

Short answer: there isn't one.

Long answer: as you say in your tags, "primitive" is a derogatory term with a very loaded meaning. Removing it from your vocabulary is less a matter of finding a more PC alternative, and more a matter of understanding why it's derogatory and changing your perception of what's being discussed. To do that, we're going to have to look at archaeological theory for a minute. Stick with me, I do have suggestions at the end.

Archaeological theory is a complicated subject and there's no way I'm going to try to summarize all of it in a Tumblr post since it's a topic arch programs devote at least a semester (if not longer) to. So we'll focus on the relevant bits.

Essentially, in the bad old days when archaeology was starting to become a discipline instead of a thing rich dudes did on the weekends, there was this idea that certain European societies were the peak of civilization and everywhere else was less evolved and therefore primitive. It was based on the misunderstanding of the theory of evolution that was common at the time. Like so:

(ID: a diagram drawn in pen. It's titled "Ye Olde Arch/Anth Theory TM". The next line says "Primitive = simple, less evolved, bad". Below it there is a vertical arrow pointing down, with the words "one way line" next to it. Under the arrow there is a line of text reading "Advanced = complex, most evolved, good". /end ID.)

These early archaeologists believed that all of humanity lived on a hierarchy with the "advanced" societies they lived in (and their ancestors like Ancient Greece) at the top and all the "primitive" past and current societies (destined to either become like them or die out eventually) at the bottom.

It's been a long road for archaeological theory. The 20th century was fraught with theoretical movements and debates that sometimes literally devolved into fistfights. But eventually we all ended up more or less here:

(ID: A hand drawn diagram in a similar format to the one above. It's titled "Arch Theory Today (Short Version). Below the title there is a single line of text centred around a horizontal line with arrows at both ends. The left side of the arrow reads "simple" while the right side reads "complex". The line itself is labeled "continuum or spectrum". /end ID.)

While you'll still find some archaeologists who disagree, the main consensus appears to at least be on the same page that instead of the old primitive vs advanced hierarchy, societies exist on a spectrum that ranges in complexity. In the most basic terms, because I'm glossing over A LOT of nuance here, hunter gatherer societies tend towards the simple end of the spectrum while big state societies are on the more complex end. This is not meant as a value judgement of these societies, but merely an attempt to classify them so other people have a frame of reference for what you're talking about. Even so, there's considerable debate about the language used for certain terms and societies, and I am not necessarily qualified to go into that in this post.

I say all that to help you understand why I can't give you a catch-all term to replace "primitive", because if one did exist it would be just as derogatory. In certain contexts there may be more appropriate words that you can use, such as simple (as in the case of the meme that inspired this post) or old. But a lot of the time an alternative just doesn't exist because we are not better or 'more evolved' than our ancestors any more than people living in big state societies are any better than people still living as hunter gatherers.

I know this has been a very long post, but I really am just scratching the surface here. For more information I suggest looking at podcasts like The Dirt or A Life In Ruins, youtube channels like The Welsh Viking or Archaeology Tube, or the blogs of any of my fellow dirt lovers here on Tumblr like @chaotic-archaeologist, @micewithknives, @art-thropologist, @archaeologistproblems, and @rhysintherain to name just a few. Archaeologists are generally a bunch of nerds who will take any opportunity they can to talk about the human past, and we rarely bite.

[upslapmeal]

Notes from the Taskmaster 16x10 recording

The last two episode recordings I went to, I meant to make comprehensive notes when I got home afterwards that I would be able to look back at and post when the episode aired. I did not, in fact, end up doing that. So this time I was determined to have lots of notes, and made them on the go in the breaks in recording. However. They were made in a rush and I never went back through them to pad them out (you'd really think I would have learned by now). So instead of just having to rely on my memory, I ended up with an almost coded list of words and phrases that it's taken me pretty much 2 weeks to sit down and decipher lol. So with that said:

the pre-episode Greg-Alex entertainment was Greg getting Alex to sing a song about a recent news story to the tune of a song suggested by the audience - in this case it was Trump's lawsuit (the one in May 2023 since there are...a few) to the tune of Wuthering Heights

Alex really went for the whole live thing, and was constantly referring to it throughout the episode

when the contestants came onstage, I obviously first saw Sam in his bright colours and blond hair

we were right on the back balcony and my first impression from that distance was that he kinda looked like Jamie Laing lol

Greg made a passing comment about how he's been dressing in grey but I was completely taken by surprise when the vt rolled and he looked completely different!

I had assumed he'd actually buzzed his hair and didn't realise it was a wig until the ep aired

Sue made comments throughout the episode about how Sam looked like Dahmer

Lucy's prize task story, unsurprisingly, went on for ages and included a whole story about the holiday they went on that I tragically cannot remember

I was so glad they didn't cut 'untaffled' because I looked through my notes before again before watching the episode and couldn't for the life of me remember what she'd said

Greg's said that his immediate response to naked Alex in the prize task was that he was 'smooth like an eel'

After Julian's prize task there was a discussion about how people wanted to be buried, and at one point (I wish I could remember the conversation leading up to this) either Greg or Alex said they would be buried 'together forever in the Victoria monument'

There was a whole long debate about whether Sam intended to use nature as part of his doughnut task, and whether the bird toppling Ms Doughnut to her death should be counted

Greg told Sam to 'convince me to give you 3 points'

Sam went on talking about how amazing nature is and how we're all connected and at one point said 'consider the statistics.....3000' (I'm 99% sure this is what he said and I didn't just forget the rest of the quote)

Julian's exercise name was absolutely not a one-off, to the point they started running a 'cunt count' for the episode

Sue talked about how she had recently had an ADHD diagnosis, and that she kept viewing tasks holistically rather than paying attention to the details. This was specifically in relation to the exercise where she just did the same thing 4 times

I'm not sure if we saw the full extended version of Hotel Taskmaster, but we definitely saw a cut that included more than the aired version (though tbh I think they do that for most tasks and I just noticed this one bc we got the extended version)

We got an 'I put it to you' from Greg that Alex-as-Qrs looked genuinely cool

Lucy described Alex as having 'tight metallic buns' which Greg later referred to as his 'robot arse'

I cannot stress how much of a breakdown Susan had in the studio about the forks and marbles - you get a glimpse in the episode but that was nothing!

Susan also took AGES to do her throw in the live task - she kept on being about to throw before being interrupted, or saying her arms were too short, or that she needed a wee, or having a fit of giggles, and the longer it went the worse it got lol

Greg and Alex also had a go at it, and Sue wanted another go without the pressure. Greg and Sue got the ball in but Alex didn't

Don't ask me to remember the context, but at one point during the record, Greg told a story about someone he knew (whose name he said he would tell the others backstage) who would have sex in a cow mask and would demand 'LOOK AT ME!!!'. Anyway that was referred back to a few times in the ep

When Sam was given the trophy he just stood near-motionless with it for what felt like ages before we got to the hugs and everything

And now we enter the magical world of ~what on earth was this note referring to~ where I just hope someone else who was there (@politicalprocrastinator how's your memory?) sees this and can fill me in on what I've forgotten:

At some point around the prize / first task I wrote 'correct dog guess'. Whose dog? What was being guessed? Absolutely no idea

At some point there was a joke about the 'former Prime Minister', I think the idea being that by the time the episode aired we'd inevitably have a new PM? but I honestly can't remember

Someone called someone else submissive in a way notable enough for me to have written 'submissive' as a one-word bullet point, but not notable enough for me to actually remember

And now three bullet points which I will present in their original form:

Birthday

Bum hole in back

Get in bath

[utilitycaster]

I'm glad to see you mentioning how disconnected the PCs are from Marquet! I'm a little surprised that I haven't seen more discussion of this in the fandom at large (although maybe I'm looking in the wrong places), since it was a point of discussion at the very beginning of the campaign in a couple of private PoC tabletop/LARP groups I was in. The consensus in the aforementioned groups at the time was that maybe the cast didn't feel comfortable representing characters coming from cultures that were explicitly based on real world PoC cultures (but the decision to have almost everyone be an "outsider" in a PoC-coded culture had unfortunate Orientalist overtones). This was very, very early campaign (like e10 maybe), though, before we really knew the trajectory of the plot (or that they'd spend so little time in Marquet).

It definitely came up a lot early on and I think a lot of the people who felt this either left Campaign 3 quite early and said "this isn't working for me" or else said, as I did, that it is what it is.

I think my issue here is that like...Imogen and Dorian are the only Marquet-born characters and while I have complicated feelings about how people see Imogen (see my previous comments about the bizarre bordering on creepy glorification of a very white-coded Southern culture that have spread into like...white anglophone but not United States portions of the fandom) she and Dorian are both very much coded to North American cultures (Imogen, accent aside, honestly fits any rural agrarian portion of the country and honestly reads closer to the great plains than the south, and Dorian is influenced by Native American culture). I actually do think that Taliesin did a good job making Ashton feel like they were part of Bassuras (and they aren't from there originally, but did grow up there culturally), but the fact is I've seen multiple people ignore that "Bassuras" is specifically taken from Tagalog (and that Makenzie de Armas was one of the Marquet designers) and hc it as Central American rather than Filipino despite Matt explicitly saying it's the latter.

I do think that the answer, if the cast was not comfortable playing Marquesian characters (and I am not a POC so take this with that grain of salt, but I also think, with some effort and some sensitivity work, they could have done so, particularly since Marquet is inspired by but not one to one), the answer should have been to either be clearer this wouldn't be centered in Marquet and would simply start there which would have lowered those expectations and to perhaps plan an EXU in Marquet that does primarily star actors who are from north Africa, or western, southern, or southeast Asia; or just set the campaign in Issylra or something. I get that Marquet is more central and cosmopolitan than Issylra by far, but we're now in an awkward position where we might have a campaign set mostly in Fake North America; a campaign set virtually entirely in Fake Europe/debatably central/northeast Asia; and a campaign that was ostensibly set in Fake SWANA/SEAsia but really was mostly about the moon. Like, the cast doing a thoughtful but perhaps imperfect go at Marquesian characters would have, at least in my opinion, been preferable.

If it helps I think the way Matt and the worldbuilders describe Marquet it doesn't feel (to me) overly orientalist and the fandom has definitely had way more "do you see this shit Edward Said" moments than the cast, despite the fact that only half the characters had spent significant time in Marquet. Really, the narrative issue is "the characters don't feel tied to this place or invested in the same way in this plot because the plot isn't tied to this place", and the unfortunate overtones come from the fact that it was the Ostensible Marquet Campaign that got the plot that's not really about Marquet.

(as someone running Netherdeep - I will say that helps. The bulk of that story is in a lovingly and sensitively reworked Ank'Harel. I'm hoping TLOVM also does a better job than C1 with Ank'Harel.)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I restart an argument with a friend?

🌊⚓ <- so I can search for it.

So, a while ago, a friend was over and we talked. She is from South Germany while I am from North Germany, where we are both living (this'll be important in a sec).

I don't really remember why we were talking about the topic, but we started talking about regional dialects and sayings and then she called Low German* a dialect. Which tldr: big no-no. But I don't think she was being malicious, she just didn't know about the topic at all.

So naturally I explained: "You absolutely cannot call Low German a dialect to peoples faces around here. People will take offense to it. I don't really, because I consider the difference between dialect and language is arbitrary to begin with. But you will provoke incredibly unkind reactions from other people."

Her response was "Yeah but like. Doesn't everyone think their own dialect should be a language."

And... Idk why that one hurt but it did. It just felt incredibly dismissive. And I didn't really know how to respond other than "but this is the one case where it is true" which felt weird so I just. Didn't. We kinda moved on to other topics. But in hindsight, I really wish I hadn't?

Because I wish I had explained it in depth to her so she understands why what she said is considered unacceptable. But also for her own sake, because she will piss people off if she says the same thing to other people. And honestly for my sake so I can make peace with the conversation.

So I'm considering either finding a way to restart the argument/ conversation when we are together or go the cowardly route and send her a couple screenshots explaining the topic. But I also feel like restarting a fight we never really had and really doesn't matter is kind of a dick move.

Additionally I tend to be a person that corrects people when they are wrong and starts discussion way too much. Because in my family academic debates are a love language.** So I tend to reaaaaaally overestimate the amount of debating/ arguing people are comfortable with. They tend to perceive me as being upset with them while I am just having fun hashing out a topic from different angles.

So Tumblr. WIBTA?

Footnotes

* Low German is the regional language of North Germany. The definition of North Germany is actually pretty much "wherever they are speaking Low German". There is some controversy if Low German is a dialect or a language. Which like... People often describe it as closer to Dutch and English than Standard German, it's a recognised language in every state it is spoken in, it is recognized as a regional language in the fucking European Union WHY is it still controversial.

It is also very much an endangered language because in the past decades especially it has been looked down on as being "lower class". No that's not where the name comes from, low german is spoken where the terrain is flat/ low and high/ upper german is spoken where the mountains are. This attitude towards Low German is shifting a lot recently but it is entirely possible it's too late to prevent it from dying out.

** I felt like this part needed some clarification too. I can't count how many dinners in my childhood were spent eating while getting into the meat of whatever topic caught our attention. Politics or science or more spiritual stuff. Ask questions about things we were wondering about. Absolutely tear into each other when we had opposing positions, but concede when we were convinced. Oftentimes I'd get up to grab pen and paper, or demonstrate orbital dynamics with the jam container, a bowl and my plate, or use the butter as an impromptu drawing board.

But that doesn't mean we were fighting in the normal sense even if someone got upset occasionally. It was really just communicating with one another. It was connecting. Exercising our debate skills. Play-fighting but make it academia. It was genuinely fun to us and still is. An alternative outlet for sibling rivalry. There is no need to fight over the TV remote when you can just reason it out together.

So yeah. That's how academic debates can be a love language (and simultaneously absolutely destroy your conception of what is considered arguing).

[elleloquently]

i can’t explain how much i love your posts i-😭😭😭 they make me feel so safe and loved🥹

if u take requests, can i kindly request some headcanons with videogamer!ellie x reader!gf ?

thank u sm beauty!!💕💕💕💕💕

| a/n : i am so happy to hear that, that is so sweet!!! i'm so sorry this took so long, i'm rly behind on requests ): as a reader tho i adore this idea. modern au bc yay modern technology!

gamer!ellie with a reader!gf :

-having different interests definitely didn't keep either of you from spending time together. you would just do separate activities, together.

-if ellie was gaming you would always take the opportunity to read, and if you wanted to read then ellie would play something. you sorta correlated times that way someone wasn't feeling left out if you wanted to actively spend time together (ellie wouldn't want to see your pout when you saw her gaming while you were missing her lmao)

-if there was a game ellie was really into at the moment, she would def be guilty of surprising you with a book from your to read list so she could spend more time than usual playing ,,

-you are privy to her ways but you would certainly never complain about getting a new book !

-ellie always listens while you sit with your legs over her lap, ranting and raving about whichever book you're reading at the time.

-if you burn through books quickly she might get the side plots or characters mixed up, interrupting your rambles with a follow up question about a character that was definitely from like, three books ago.

"ellieeee," you would pretend to whine, though the look of interest crossed with confusion on her face made it difficult to stifle a giggle. "that was my last book, this one is different now."

"oh! right! but he did turn out to be bad, right?"

"yes. okay, anyway..."

-sometimes she gets distracted and loses or has to pause for awhile because she just likes . watching you. it's sweet, the way you look so peaceful with a book in your hands.

-ellie thinks it's funny when you mimic the facial expressions that you're reading about. rushes for her phone sometimes bc the faces you make while reading crack her tf up. you get so flustered when she shows you later but she absolutely adores the photos.

-especially if you're making an expression in regards to what is happening in the story. you're so quiet and ellie looks over to check on you, only to be met with your bewildered expression or a deep set frown. she'll pipe up and ask what's happening, grinning when you snap your book closed.

"oh my god," you start, leaning forward to clue her in.

-sometimes you find yourself rereading paragraphs over and over, finding it difficult to focus as your eyes wander to ellie instead.

-the look of concentration on her face... muttering and swearing under her breath... her hands.

!!!!!!!

-tugging ellie's hand in a book aisle at the store, pacing around the shelves with mumbles of "i promise i'm just looking, not buying any today"

-(ellie carries your books when you leave the store)

-displaying the same patience while she's browsing games, debating and comparing. you make sure to pay extra attention cause you love surprising her for special occasions.

-you try some of her games occasionally after much convincing on ellie's end. she's such a backseat gamer though and it ends with you either getting a lil grumpy or laughing too hard to take it seriously.

-she tries to find some low stakes, silly games so the two of you can play together. if there's a book you're really crazy about, you'll pass it on to ellie and she'll read it so you can have someone to discuss it with <3

[lu-zijing]

WHAT THE ———-

WHAT THE HECK, SO THIS IS OFFICIAL ART AFTER ALL!!!!!!?✨✨

/ Soukoku discussion ahead:

Okay, no, I'm sorry, I've seen it before, this is old news, I know, but I kinda thought someone had edited them together, especially because many people said it looked like they had kissed - being very debatable whether or not it is just battle dust/wounds or actual traces of them kissing......

In my own opinion: Dazai's "scratch" is a bit weirdly placed- but Chuuya's does look more like a normal scratch.. But then again, why is it the only place both of them even have scratches on their face?? The rest of their faces are completely clean, have they even been in a battle? Wouldn't it be more realistic to have multiple small cuts, scratches, or at least some kind of dust or dirt then? - Like this: Which Chuuya had in the actual Dead Apple movie:

Could be an artistic choice for the Official art piece ofc, but then, Why do they just have that one scratch, both of them???

Yeah, okay I guess it isn't directly unrealistic to get just one scratch, but both?? Almost the same place??? Both scratches even look to be made the same way, if you look closely. At least they are drawn the same way - Either they just draw all scratches the same way, or this could mean they were from the same source. But ofc, we have no way of knowing, if that source is kissing, but it couuuld- Okay, yeah, mayybe I'm/we're overthinking it since the, well- ~ship~ But I can definitely see how the whole Idea started. I see it like this, it's probably some sort of actual scratch from battle, but it potentially being from a kiss, can't be completely ruled out either.

Here's a post from Reddit where someone pointed it out:

-Although in the start I thought, that's easy to add, it must be fanmade, looks like they used some scenes from Dead Apple, and... well..... yeah... Okay, I was likely a bit in denial at that point, even everyone around me talked about it as if it were Official.....

And just the fact that it says "HAPPY KISS!" in the text.... (( I am a Soukoku shipper, and now it's said- But Okay, I can be realistic - I can't speak Japanese, it's likely in some other context, but still, you can't help but let the thoughts run wild, and you know I'm right— And just.. The way Chuuya smiles so happily and innocently......!!! Chuuya please do that in the canon story as well— It kinda freaks me out a little though but still—

But... I don't know what to believe about this piece, to be honest. - Even if they actually turn out to be romantically involved with each other somehow, it doesn't mean they necessarily kissed in this specific art piece. It could, but it doesn't have to be. (Even if they haven't kissed I absolutely adore this art piece both as a neutral fan and a shipper..!!! The shipping is taking the upper hand though, that's just how it works, no point denying-))

And besides, would it really be hinted like this??

If it really was the Artist's/team behind this Official art piece's intention to make people think or doubt they kissed -if they actually HAD kissed- I bow in the dust to them- Damn-

It Would also mean that Chuuya and Dazai likely ALREADY have a relationship-!? In the course of the current timeline, I suppose. Which I imagine, is also one of many theories.

Like, I don't think an entire confession scene happened there, so if they kissed, it would have had to have been a thing already. Highly likely at least. Okay maybe I'm going too much into this now-

Personally, I would prefer to see a confession scene between them in the present, should they really come together romantically canonically.

But I certainly couldn't (or wouldn't!)) complain either if it turned out they have had a secret relationship this whole time-!! Imagine the reactions—--! Someone must have drawn that scenario already. Damn, I wanna see it now- If you wanna, feel freeee to draw it and mention me so I can see~~ I would praise you to the heavens, for reading this far, and even drawing it- *ahem* anyhow-

However unlikely, one can always dream — Dream with me if you would like~ ✨ 

And I hope you enjoyed reading this whole silly delightful thing!! Hopefully, you really did, if you read all the way down to here-! 😅 ✨  It became longer than expected-

But well! No matter what - So it WAS from an Official Magazine cover from Spoon-2di!! - These Magazines - Which I figured out was a thing after my last post, about what the heck the magazines were about - Now I know, MANY thanks to @originalaccountname ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ 

They really do have some amazing Official art, just the covers alone! Go check out my post that I linked, in it there are a good handful of them! Otherwise, just go Google "BSD Magazine covers" If You didn't know already, you will thank me later-!

Thanks for reading! Until next time-!

[sophieinwonderland]

Not that prev religion anon, but the fact is, you’re not just hurting sysmeds “in their bigotry.” You’re hurting pro-endos too, such as myself, by saying these sorts of things so loudly and with no nuance.

I love the idea of a plural God for others, but not for me. I don’t agree with the idea based on my teachings. But furthermore, I don’t agree with my God being used to… further… plural acceptance? That’s not the point of spreading Christianity.

If you’re looking for actual theological discussions, then yes! Fuck yes discuss! But you aren’t. It doesn’t feel like you’re saying God is plural out of any desire for theological debate or a deeper understanding of Christianity. It feels like you’re using it solely to upset anti-endos into foaming at the mouths loudly enough that Christians will look at you and… somehow go, “Oh, this plural thing sounds good!” And that will somehow make plural acceptance a thing.

I don’t like feeling so used. ):

I'm sorry you feel that way.

But furthermore, I don’t agree with my God being used to… further… plural acceptance? That’s not the point of spreading Christianity.

Right. Of course. The point of Christianity is spreading homophobia and taking away people's bodily autonomy...

Yes, I know that's not true of all Christians. But the point I want to make is that... I think we need to acknowledge that the Church is always used for politics. And there's power in whoever can use it best to their advantage. If it's not us, it will be the pluralphobes.

Can I ask, have you thought about what a plural future will entail?

Or, to be more specific, have you thought about the Church's place in a plural future?

Because I have, and frankly, it's more than a little worrying.

Did you see the article about tulpamancy from Rod Dreher?

Either the tulpa is a wholly psychological phenomenon generated by the mind, or it is an unusual way of allowing a demonic spirit to take possession. Or perhaps both. It is at best a sign of great mental disturbance, and at worst a sign of evil spirits inhabiting a person’s body. Whatever the case, it ain’t good.

Then there was the right-winger not too long ago who infiltrated a plurality panel at a gender conference, and claim she felt a demonic presence. She's STILL claiming this plurality conference caused her to be possessed by a demon.

And in fact, the first time I ever brought up the Trinity being plural wasn't on my Tumblr blog. It was in a catholic subreddit in response to members saying that tulpas sounded demonic. (I regret deleting those comments now.)

Like it or not, widespread plural awareness means that plurality WILL become a topic in churches. And we can't afford to allow the narrative to be shaped by the right-wing evangelicals alone. We NEED to get ahead of this and appeal to churches before it comes to that.

Because I already have a pretty good idea of what talking points they're going to be churning out.

They'll say that plurality is evil. That we're getting children to open themselves up to demonic forces. They'll say that our experiences of plurality are impossible because God designed each of us to be one person, and anyone claiming otherwise is delusional. I mean, this is pretty much what they're saying right now, just on a smaller scale.

So this is my counternarrative. God is plural and Mankind is made in God's likeness. To claim plurality is unnatural is to claim God is unnatural. To hate plurals is to hate God. Coming our of the gates with this will be an immense help in the battle to come.

And I do realize that this only applies to Trinitarians, but that's the large majority of Christians.

If you don't agree with my methods, that's fine. But I think the seeds need to be planted now. We have a chance to gain a foothold in this conversation before it really starts. Because let me tell you, once it really kicks off, the rightwing talking points will spread fast and countering them isn't going to be easy. Changing a firm belief is way more difficult than convincing someone who is undecided.

Every sympathetic Christian we can introduce to the idea that God is plural is hopefully going to be somewhat inoculated against the right-wing propaganda when it comes in full force.

We're going to need every advantage we can possibly get when we're going up against these massive right-wing evangelical Christian institutions.

And I've decided that potentially offending a few people along the way, even a few pro-endos, is going to be worth the long-term benefits.

[system-of-a-feather]

Man, this will go a bit into syscourse probably, but I was just watching Monkey Man and it really had me thinking (and internally groaning) about how gender "weirdness" is really something that is not weird at all in a lot of non-white non-european cultures. Shiva in Hinduism is a great example.

It's just when you get weird white people who come in and say "well you see, my understanding of gender is actually correct and the right way to think and talk about gender and I am inherently the most correct and right and smartest way of talking about gender and everyone else is just a cultural / spiritual game and should stay within their culture because its wrong but we 'respect' it and let it be wrong"

And it really got me internally ranting about how honestly - and I was trying to be a bit subtle about this cause I know it'd probably get back lash - but as a person of color from a culture and spirituality / philosophy that has plurality and variants of it normalized - the fact that people claim that the only way a person could experience themselves as more than one being due to trauma really really upsets me, because its a very white / western / european way of thinking about the concept of self, identity, personhood, and the soul.

In some cultures, people are understood as inherently many or inherently parts of a whole. It is just something that is just a part of the culture - may that be subtly and in a non-spoken manner, or in a more direct manner in the way that animism and buddhism talks about it. People can and do experience themselves as more than one and have been doing so since long before people were really aware of what psychology even was.

The fact that people talk about how individuals experience themselves inherently in a white, western, euro-centric cultural perspective that writes off "not identifying as one singular person" as something that HAS to come from trauma just really.... kinda pisses me off.

And if the argument is "well they shouldn't be called a system cause its a totally different thing than what people with DID / OSDD have" like... really, why are we getting so hot and bothered over the fucking word "system" and two... I can't delineate where my DID and my cultural plural-adjacent experiences begin and end. And also three, if we are getting so protective over the word "system" then why aren't we getting mad at the guy who developed IFS too??

It's also just so frustrating that people look at people who identify as more than one and inherently go "oh they are only doing this because they looked at my disorder and said they wanted it" when??? no??? Sure there are some I'm sure, but again, this is something people have been experiencing for centuries - hell more than a millenia.

As someone with DID / OSDD, I get the need for protecting the medical label and the diagnosis and all that because yes, while the psych system sucks, the medical labels are medical to get help, aid, and all sorts of stuff - absolutely.

But going around stating that anyone that experiences themselves as more than one is inherently either traumatized or maliciously lying and trying to actively co-opt a disorder is just.... ugh. Not it.

Please consider that there are other cultures and perspectives to identity, self, and spirit that impact how one identifies and engages with their own existence before you start sounding like a colonizer.

-----

Anti-endos are welcome to respectfully discuss and engage.

Arguments and debates are not welcome and will be blocked.

This is partially me venting about white / western people. Do with this as you will.

[cj-doodlez]

Speaking up in regards to the Carnitrix and Chaquetrix

Very unplanned post, but upon glancing over a friend's post again, as well as multiple times having it mentioned and having discussions I will state what the younger audiences that are so obsessed with the Chaquetrix & Carnitrix would NOT want me to say; you need to stop associating other people's work with the Carnitrix/Chaquetrix just because it follows a certain theme (e.g.: aliens looking disfigured and whatnot). Not everything that is Ben 10 horror or contains bizarre and disturbing looking aliens/transformations & has obscure, twisted storylines/plots is immediately inspired by/similar to the Carnitrix; a lot of the horror Ben 10 things that you immediately associate with the Carnitrix have been around at least a while before the latter AU itself has been, if not for years. And you also need to stop nagging people about it. You can ask/suggest an artist to draw it, but don't be out here trying to shove it down every artist's throat. It gets obnoxious. If you get told no, then no is the final answer.

Same for the Chaquetrix. For the most part, In my honest opinion, I see the Chaquetrix AU as merely a cheap excuse to draw rule 34, not that huge of a deal, and most likely a lot of the artists that get requested to draw things in regards to said AU explicitly specify they do not take NSFW commissions/requests, nor do they draw it. And even if they do, some would be uncomfortable/not okay with it, given that the Chaquetrix, in a nutshell, surrounds a pre-pubescent minor having the ability to summon aliens whose sole purpose is literally to fuck, which to me is really concerning. But putting that aside, like I said prior. If you ask an artist and you get no as an answer, you shouldn't try to persuade/insist, they might just end up blocking/reporting you. And nor should you be making comparisons/claiming something is inspired by either AUs just because of similar ideas/themes revolving it.

As for my opinions on the Carnitrix and the Chaquetrix? I already said what I think of the Chaquetrix. But as for the Carnitrix; to put it shortly: promising idea/concept, poor execution story/plot wise and in my own opinion, poor to average/very hit or miss alien designs. Again, that's up to debate, those are just my opinions. To each their own. This will be the one and only time (hopefully) I'll touch on the subject. Now I go back to the kitchen to cook the next alien and plan what the hell I'm gonna do for the others.

One off topic note, once I hit 10 aliens (there is really no actual order of posting them, I just post them at random and whichever I make first), I'll start revealing characters in the story, so stay tuned for that :P

[sonkitty]

Bookend Buddies - Crowley and Muriel

Introduction

Alright, I'm going to talk about Crowley and Muriel.

My starting theory was that these two knew each other as at least acquaintances, not necessarily friends, in the first draft of the story. This first draft would have resolved the matter of the cardboard box Gabriel brought much sooner. Then a second draft, or even more drafts, act as the cover for whatever happened the first time around.

After looking over Crowley and Muriel scenes, something like that could indeed be true, but certain other messages from the story emerged that seem to make that idea secondary when looking at the pair specifically together.

Trust

For one, a far understated thing about their relationship is that these two trust each other, even if they don't seem to know each other very well. It hits really hard once you get the level of trust Crowley has to have in Muriel for their assistance in the Triple of The Bigger Thresholds Trick. Their part together is for the Heaven elevator, and pockets are involved.

Pocket usage combined with threshold usage in Good Omens 2 amounts to a nightmarish puzzle that I will never truly solve. I have solved just enough to know what to look for, and I see it all over their entry into Heaven. Pockets require precise framing, and they both have it.

This trust level would put their relationship as much more likely to be actual friends despite Crowley's intense claim to the contrary in episode 5 when he tells Gabriel that Aziraphale is the only friend he has.

Bookends

The other weird message was something I found in looking for a small pattern I noticed. That pattern was that Crowley scenes tend to bookend Muriel scenes. I started to log and verify that pattern. It's not on both ends every time, and I could find only one Muriel scene where there's no bookend of a scene with him on either side.

When they both get back from Heaven in episode 6, this pattern goes into hyper-drive. It becomes a game in and of itself to see how Crowley can bookend or share Muriel scenes all the way up to the end of the episode and overall season.

Along the way, Muriel likely assists Crowley in the Single of The Pocket Trick. Muriel then ends up having bookend scenes to all 6 of Crowley's own Threshold Tricks.

Memory

I don't know how both their memories were edited or altered, but I'm left to guess that it happened and was partly voluntary with making sure they remembered just enough to maintain their trust in each other or have a way for that trust to quietly activate, as if it has a switch.

Boxes

Boxes are a theme with these two, so I'm going to discuss the boxes among the other stuff below.

...

Episode 1: The Arrival

There are 3 Matchbox Muriel scenes. Two of them happen in episode 1.

Before Muriel is shown on screen, there is a cut of Gabriel with the fly that's implied to be an extension of the scene where Aziraphale called Crowley to invite Crowley to the coffee shop.

Then Muriel finds the matchbox. I'm not going to get too much into the quote and stuff, but one could easily link it to Crowley if what I've read of its relation to "leviathan" is true since leviathans can be associated with snakes. There's also the fire-breathing Crowley pretending to be Aziraphale in season 1. Then of course that hopping and shouting with the lightning forcing the power outage on the coffee shop that comes later. The matchbox itself might be evil or borderline evil.

Muriel's hand is just as deliberate as Crowley's can be when it comes to managing the touch because part of a thumb is shown with the thumb tip itself hidden and the thumb obscured specifically by the end of the touch.

After this scene, the immediate next scene is Crowley's arrival at the coffee shop, which is also The Perfect Entrance Trick.

So, that's one Muriel scene book-ended with Crowley scenes. One could find the first part debatable, and indeed, that will happen again. Still, almost every time, there will be a Crowley scene at least before or after a Muriel scene.

That's also the first scene for Muriel to bookend one of the Threshold Tricks.

Take note.

These things add up.

We're going to take a quick break from Muriel because of the cardboard box.

In episode 1, there is an extremely important sequence of at least one Likely Fake Crowley, possibly two, storming out of the bookshop. In that sequence, the fake who looks most likely to be Aziraphale passes by a prominently displayed cardboard box and does not touch it.

Actual Crowley is a top tier player in Earthly Objects who is incredibly deliberate in what he touches, especially with his hands. He's also someone who tends to ask questions.

Remember the cardboard box and that the fake did not touch that box and did not question it. Both Crowley and Muriel are going to follow this pattern with the exception of Crowley retrieving the box during episode 6 of course.

Let's get back to Muriel.

The next debatable front bookend Crowley scene to a Muriel scene is that after Crowley shoots out lightning, his torso is shown and does not include his head. The scene cuts to Nina and Maggie realizing they are locked in. For some reason, a blurry red-headed figure wearing black is ensured to be shown in the background as if it could be Crowley. This figure is a possible fake because we later find out that Crowley lost so much of his red in his hair. Plus, there's some general confusion about the car being parked in front of the coffee shop. The car itself seems more bluish. He doesn't enter or leave and is shown to be with the car later on a different street. This possible fake allows for a stronger bookend connection to the incoming Muriel scene nonetheless.

The next cut is of Michael and Uriel for a bit before Muriel enters, but it is the same scene. Now we are at Matchbox Muriel Scene #2.

When the matchbox is set down, it does not make the sound that an empty matchbox makes. In fact, it sounds like a disguised magical book. The music gives more of a mystery vibe than a stronger intensity and possibly evil vibe it will give later in episode 5.

We learn the name of the game, Earthly Objects, and are shown an extensive touching sequence. I don't know if it's a tutorial. If it is, I can't tell you what it teaches. I can mainly tell you it makes sure to show most of Michael's digits during the sequence. Thumbs are shown, but the thumbs don't actually touch the matchbox itself. Thumbs are a big deal in Earthly Objects. A thumb tip can even set certain things into Door Mode. If that matchbox is an evil book hiding in disguise, a thumb tip could be like a password that would have accessed it. Muriel avoided doing that or avoided it in just the right way.

As this Muriel scene wraps up, Uriel says, "I think he's gone to Earth."

We're supposed to guess and assume they mean Gabriel, yet the story cuts to Crowley entering his car before he is summoned to Hell. So, this Muriel scene is given a clear back bookend Crowley scene.

Muriel does not show up again in episode 1.

But...let's get back to the cardboard box.

When Crowley returns to the bookshop, the prominently displayed cardboard box is no longer prominently displayed where it was. In fact, for a good long while, I thought it had disappeared as much as the plate of Eccles cakes, but no, it was just moved out of the way in a less obvious spot.

Now, here's something I found interesting while drafting this post. My own question to myself was, "Was the box moved out of Crowley's line of sight?" for the scene.

I was quite surprised to find out that in almost the entire scene, the box is not in his line of sight. There is only one tiny part of the scene where it is.

The box is in Crowley's line of sight briefly during the apology dance.

So, the dance might have been a clue to Crowley to know where the box was but still not visibly touch it or question it. Remember, later in episode 6, it's going to be weird when he acts like he knows about the cardboard box he never acknowledged in the whole story up to that point.

...

Episode 2: The Clue

Not that it's hard being one of the two main characters of the story, but Crowley has another front bookend scene before a Muriel scene in the minisode that starts off the episode. He is at least prevented from having a back bookend scene this time.

The episode opens with the scene of the big giant scroll and pretending to kill off the goats while actually turning them into crows instead, as Crawley.

Muriel is later shown reading a big giant scroll. I don't know if it's the exact same scroll, but it's at least supposed to be about the same thing.

Muriel does not appear again for the rest of the episode.

...

Episode 3: I Know Where I'm Going

At long last, Muriel arrives on Earth. They have a scene without Crowley scenes book-ending either side of it.

The front bookend is Gabriel drinking hot chocolate. Soon after, Muriel is the subject being seen through the window for Mrs. Sandwich. Then they start their scene with Aziraphale. One could probably estimate this scene's end as Aziraphale closing the door. So, finally, no Crowley though Crowley himself will be part of the scene immediately after.

It's possible that Muriel has had a memory wipe though how recent is hard to guess. My own guess would be that it's actually relatively recent because as stated, I think they and Crowley knew each other in the first draft of the story.

Aziraphale seems to have a moment of quiet recognition, that could be either from the recent Job minisode or if he knew Muriel in the first draft as well. I would guess that he did, but this bookend thing Crowley and Muriel have is not quite the same as what can be found between Aziraphale and Muriel. Aziraphale moves the story along without any further acknowledgment.

After Muriel enters, the cardboard box is given more focus from its designated place than usual with a blurred Muriel in the foreground. The camera work forces a shift such that Muriel receives focus, and the cardboard box is blurred. While I'm sure many people have picked up on this thing happening, I'm going to add that that particular type of blur was used in the first shared complex window scene Maggie and Nina had looking at Crowley through a window in episode 1. The blur type share was also done with Crowley and Gabriel in episode 1 when Crowley finds out Gabriel is in the bookshop. So, Muriel is given a notable share with a cardboard box instead of an actual full other character in the story. It's also a box that keeps having no touching or questioning from Crowley. Muriel doesn't touch it or question it either.

When Crowley arrives, he does sound grumpy as he complains about Aziraphale not taking the train. He soon stops, realizes Muriel is there, and says, "Who's this now?"

Take note of the "now" because this story is both deceptive and deliberate in its methods. These are the types of little clues it scatters around compared to the bigger ones. The "now" hints he knows of a "who" Muriel was from some other time.

Just as Muriel glows, Crowley is actually more cast in shadow than he already often is upon stopping to find them there. His body makes sure to stop with the shadow covering much of his upper body area in a diagonal manner.

Crowley has short sideburns despite Muriel being an angel because the bookshop literally took their claim as human. Interestingly, Crowley is also lacking his more saturated streak of red hair that is often found over the center of his left eye during the present day story.

Crowley himself quickly warms up to Muriel in a more friendly manner.

Muriel's body blocks the cardboard box from our line of sight for a good amount of the scene but not the entire time. In turn, Crowley is bound to have it in his own line of sight much more easily than in episode 1 when he returned to the bookshop. So, by now, Crowley probably knows it's there and is still just generally ignoring it while being near its presence.

There's some kind of light near Muriel that keeps flickering. While neither Crowley nor Muriel use pockets here, they both do at other times. Pockets use lighting as clues. So, I'm not going to log every single line and every single flicker, but I did notice the flicker when Muriel said "200 years". That number could mean something like when these two actually met or became friends.

Another noteworthy thing about this scene involving both characters is that it is one of the few times the story shows a person reflected in Crowley's sunglasses before The Window Trick at the end of episode 6. Muriel's reflection can actually be found, quite likely because they were intentionally showing off their cup of tea.

Crowley exits first, allowing for a scene between Muriel and Aziraphale. After Aziraphale leaves, Muriel is left alone momentarily. While they do not get the same blurred share from earlier, they are still shown specifically with the cardboard box while not touching it or questioning it.

Later, Muriel intrudes on Crowley and Aziraphale. I've actually written about the scene in my "Rule Following" section for Earthly Objects.

So, I'll mainly say that this scene does not really have a hint of them having known each other. Instead, it has Crowley manipulating the scene and Muriel to do what he wants so he can give Aziraphale a proper pass of the car keys. The toss is incredibly precise because he waits until Muriel's eyes move to the notepad, not just for them to get out their notepad. The only possible hint is if Muriel actually looked at Crowley before their notepad intentionally as a cue for when he should be ready for the toss. Then the toss isn't as impressive, so my bias prefers to think that was not the case. Head canon as you please.

Even though the two had an actual scene together, the story makes that scene a front bookend Crowley scene of yet another Muriel scene with Muriel's stop at the coffee shop.

Muriel is not seen again for the rest of the episode.

...

Episode 4 does not have Muriel. It does have Crowley touching the cardboard box of the plants. Sorry, I couldn't help notice that cardboard boxes are a thing because of the matchbox and the mainly featured cardboard box, so we may as well take note since Muriel was given that shared blur with such an important cardboard box.

...

Episode 5: The Ball

During episode 5, there are two important scenes shared between Crowley and Gabriel. The first scene is where Crowley ultimately tells Gabriel to jump out a window, then stops Gabriel from doing so. He offers to make hot chocolate. This scene is a front bookend of the last Matchbox Muriel scene. It also includes mention of an actual matchbox.

Finally, we are back to our ominous borderline evil matchbox itself with Matchbox Muriel Scene #3. This scene further manages to act as a back bookend to a touch of The Sunglasses Trick. In this matchbox scene, the subtitles say "intense music" and it is intense. The matchbox is given immediate focus to introduce the scene.

The intensity settles. Muriel is giving their report to Michael and Uriel with no Saraqael around.

In this report, Muriel says Crowley's name, including calling him, "Mr. Crowley," and describes Crowley as Aziraphale's "grumpy friend." Well, Crowley was grumpy when Muriel first saw him yes, but most of the time we saw them together, he was not grumpy. In fact, he was rather friendly. Muriel is also shown to be unaware that Crowley is a demon. When they say Aziraphale's "Mr. Fell" name, Uriel gives Muriel a look that makes Muriel definitely not say Crowley's name—not even partially.

Aside from Aziraphale, Shax, and any character involved in the 1941 minisode, the story itself seems to have some rather strict rules on who can say Crowley's name and when. If I remember right, Muriel never says Crowley's name again.

We, the audience, were never shown anyone giving Muriel Crowley's name before that point either. In addition to that, mysterious music plays while the angels stop in confusion as they grasp at the assistant bookseller they can't quite remember. The matchbox is not easily seen during all of this time, but we know we saw it first with the intense music.

We never saw Muriel see or speak to an assistant bookseller, Gabriel going by Jim, in the scenes given. Muriel's memory and the story's memory do not match with what we have been told is happening. And some possibly evil matchbox is making that happen...maybe. That thing gives off "trying to get back to its master" evil ring vibes towards Crowley. It's creepy. No, I'm not venturing too far down that road. I'm admitting it's just vibes.

The back bookend scene here is Crowley actually giving Gabriel hot chocolate.

After this point, Crowley's sideburns stay a medium-to-long length until right before the credits at the end. Part of my sideburns scheme theory is that Aziraphale and Crowley borrowed each other's homes to form a special connection that affected an invisible supernatural border that existed between the car and the bookshop. They then made their preparations for the ball through the invitations, and Crowley had his scenes with Gabriel to force this sideburn status into place.

That means a lot of pieces were moved around so that the next time Crowley encountered Muriel, his sideburns were longer despite Muriel's earlier claim of being "human" and the bookshop's reading from that.

Let's skip ahead to that Crowley and Muriel encounter.

Crowley finds Muriel near the pub. In fact, he finds Muriel at, I believe, where he parked the car in episode 2. That's quite the coincidence.

After he convinces Muriel to "arrest" him, for some reason, Crowley makes sure to enter the elevator first. Ever since I realized Crowley's sideburns respond to thresholds, I have taken note of Crowley's deliberate decisions in so much of what he does, especially in season 2. He is rather strategic overall. Him entering first sets off alarms in my head. That is not the typical way he does things. He goes alone or Aziraphale leads. In the Edinburgh minisode, Elspeth entered first, followed by Crowley, then Aziraphale. Not long before this Muriel encounter and probably not a coincidence, Crowley left with Mrs. Sandwich first. They went together. He still did not go first as only himself.

But for some reason, at this particular threshold, it is a priority that he be first. I wish I knew why instead of just constantly sensing it.

This entry into Heaven is the first part of the Triple in The Bigger Thresholds Trick. It is also the only one that expands over two episodes.

When looking at Crowley and Muriel together, here are some things I think are worth noting.

First of all, Muriel was convinced to begin with. Why would they trust him? He's a demon, and they were even given a specific look of not even saying his name. Yet still, they find Crowley convincing enough to do this arrest. Crowley told Shax in episode 2 that he was a "former demon," but when it comes to Muriel, he actually drops the "former" part of his own self-description.

Now, I do have this theory that when it comes to the longer sideburns, they are like a mark of rank on Crowley when he is around angels. I usually associate that theory more with their longest length and specifically when in the bookshop. If that theory has any merit even outside the bookshop, then latent memory in Muriel could actually be recognizing Crowley's rank from before his fall and why they ultimately abide. If I'm wrong, then Muriel still finds a way to put their trust in him, such as a latent memory of whatever they did together in the first draft of the story or past friendship they had. If there is no latent memory, Muriel just trusts him anyway.

Crowley himself is having to trust Muriel here. It is no small amount of trust either. This segment is incredibly important to performing the Trick. He trusted Aziraphale for the other two, and with Aziraphale not here, Muriel is the one he turns to for help.

Unfortunately, I do not have a desired simplified explanation of how this threshold is being tricked, but I can at least tell you I know what to look for and the deliberate methods both characters use for entering. The more simplified ways are that Crowley manages to not touch the buttons and not touch the pub doors before going up. Muriel is the one who both summons the elevator and closes the pub doors for him. When he is later seen going down, he maintains touch with his back at where the edges of the elevator doors meet.

Well, that's the easier stuff. There is something far more complicated happening with shadows, lighting, and pockets. I don't know what it is. I'm just going to tell you I see it, and I know it when I see it because I at least know what to look for. With pockets involved, that also means framing.

I won't bore you with too many of the details. It was hard to write in my initial draft. Muriel is deliberate in how they get themselves framed alongside Crowley. Probably about the most noteworthy things of such framing are a look down as if to check they are positioning themself properly and getting their right arm so close to being over the middle edge of where the elevator doors meet and still not doing that. That part might have to do with whatever was necessary a to align with a reflection in a window pane, and that reflection being over a lock.

Speaking of windows, they are both deliberately framed through the window panes. I'm not going to describe it. If you're interested and can see, I advise you just go take a look. It is assuredly intentional. Their heads and upper bodies are in a grid or something. "Gridlock" might be the simplified word I'm looking for, but I'm not fully convinced and couldn't explain it to anyone.

Here, I have at least made a GIF because the glance down helps show it's intentional:

Pockets of light were involved. Muriel used a pocket. Crowley made touches on his clothing suspiciously like when he uses pockets. His tied hands might have been tied. His belt head might have activated. It's ridiculous. I can't believe this Earthly Objects game.

Before Muriel entered, they looked at Crowley and asked, "You aren't trying to trick me, are you?"

Now a lot of people would see that question and be, like, yes, of course he is.

It definitely looks that way.

But...these two are actually tricking a threshold together. It is likely a clue to the audience to look for the Threshold Trick that's happening right in front of their eyes instead of Crowley tricking Muriel.

Even though we saw Muriel close the doors, we did not see any miracle touch to activate a button. We just see the elevator go up.

...

Episode 6: Every Day

As the two arrive in Heaven, Crowley makes sure to exit the elevator first. His foot decidedly makes sure to not touch the lower threshold of where the doors slid open. His shadow can be seen to his left side. When Muriel follows, they don't have a shadow to their left side at all.

Now on they go where probably a million important things happen since pockets were involved on the way up, but let's focus on three things.

Crowley quickly refers to Muriel's rank when asking about records. We've already seen Muriel know Crowley's name without us knowing how they got it. Now we see Crowley know Muriel's rank without us knowing how he got it. We're even going to see both of them receive each of these pieces of information later on this trip in Heaven.

Not long after the rank reference, one of the lines Crowley says is, "You're forgetting about the bees."

Crowley, how many times has Muriel helped you break into Heaven by this point?

I hope it's not more than one, but it's going to be awhile to get such an answer.

Muriel's "forgetting" are they? Does he know that Muriel knew about the bees before? Did they talk about it? Did they work together?

As the conversation continues, it leads to Crowley changing his appearance. Of note in this appearance, his newly manifested gold tie is...pocketed into his newly manifested gray jacket. If his "tied hands" activated at the entry, he's putting those hands in a pocket here and now. And he's doing that because Muriel led him to that decision.

Neither one seems to truly remember the other, but both are guiding each other to certain ends.

At some point, Crowley asks Muriel a question about if they knew why Gabriel would not want another Armageddon. They shake their head and answer "not yet". We were never actually shown Muriel's assignment for why they were on Earth. We were just led to believe it was to confirm the miracle that Aziraphale performed since all actions shown by the characters said so. Muriel has no problem admitting this "yet" part of their answer to Crowley.

Saraqael arrives and shows us one way Muriel could have gotten Crowley's name by addressing Crowley by name.

Later on is when Muriel actually gives the rank. Crowley gives them a friendly fist bump to the shoulder. They smile. Both of them are shown to be on friendly terms in what might be an earlier draft of the story. Even if it's not an earlier draft, I'm glad to see Crowley be on friendly terms with an angel who is not Aziraphale. He reached somewhat friendly terms with Gabriel, but the story made sure that Crowley and Gabriel had zero direct interaction on Gabriel's side once Gabriel recovered his memories. The same could be said of Muriel, now that I think about it.

There's footage of the cardboard box they both watch. Muriel's memory of the matchbox is shown in focus as an assumption it was whatever Gabriel really dropped.

On the exit to Heaven, I've long theorized that Crowley is invisible and Muriel looks scared and amazed by such a thing at the same time. I haven't really changed my mind. If Muriel is doing something to help because Muriel is in the middle on one side, and Crowley is in the middle on the other, I don't know what it is. I can just tell you that a pattern is indeed found between the two if one looks for such a thing.

I can also bring back the pockets.

When the light goes up and Crowley's appearance changes, something about his re-manifested clothes is decidedly different than usual. His tie strands are pocketed into his vest, which then means his thumbs and thumb joints are hidden. I don't know exactly what that means, but it's deliberate on the story's part. Thumbs do things to doors, and these thumbs are hiding themselves while Crowley has his back to a door. That's somehow doing whatever needs to be done for this Threshold Trick and Muriel convincing Crowley to change his appearance earlier contributed.

Also, there was a rainbow when the light went up.

We missed whatever led to Michael and Uriel joining Muriel, Saraqael, and Crowley in the elevator.

When Crowley and the angels arrive at the bookshop, Muriel quietly closes the doors without anyone asking. I'm left with the impression that those doors being opened when they were and while Crowley was in Heaven is supposed to be important. So, the timing of this closure and who is doing it is also important.

Muriel stays out of the way and on their own quite a bit throughout their time in the bookshop as they turn their attention to a book.

In turn, that means their attention is not on the cardboard box when it is retrieved to help Gabriel recover his memories.

When Gabriel recovers his memories, something strange happens. If Crowley is where the story told us he was—next to Aziraphale, Gabriel is acting like Crowley isn't there. Aziraphale glances where we were told Crowley was. Gabriel briefly follows this gaze, then changes course. In the next cut, he blinks as he passes over where Crowley would be. He names more characters, including Michael and Uriel. While he doesn't remember Saraqael's name, they are given an interaction. With Muriel on their own further back—just like Crowley—they, too, are ignored during this sequence. They are at least shown on screen. Eventually, Gabriel reacts to seeing Beelzebub, and we are informed that Crowley is still there by Aziraphale. Of course, with the scene cut the way it is, maybe he wasn't there, and all of these drafts are blending together but still telling us Crowley was ignored, possibly invisible, cloaked, or forgotten.

Even with Crowley visibly on screen as Beelzebub refers to Aziraphale by name, neither Gabriel nor Beelzebub acknowledge Crowley as having played any part in helping to look after Gabriel—or anything else for that matter.

Again, the cardboard box was notably ignored by Muriel. They were given a specific shared blur with the box. Why give the focus if nothing of fruition was to come from such a thing? That was a shared blur that Earthly Objects uses in its game, and that box went untouched.

Things move on with Crowley escorting Maggie and Nina out.

Now it really gets hard to track how Crowley is book-ending Muriel in the scenes at the end, but he is. I think he is doing it every time. He is shown to approach a window and look inside while several angels and demons are arguing. Aziraphale rings his bell, which is enough to grab Muriel's attention as well. Soon after, Crowley is shown looking through the window again and smiles.

Then they actually have a scene together where neither one of them talks. It is the Single in The Pocket Trick. The Pocket Trick is a difficult, confusing collection of puzzles that uses word play. Because Muriel wears all white and The Pocket Trick has a Rainbow Connection mechanic that uses non-rainbow shades, there is a very strong chance Muriel is helping Crowley with yet another Threshold Trick. Whatever it is, it probably has to do with the alignment of Crowley's sleeve and jacket through a window frame since that's when Muriel's white can be seen and then when Crowley's sunglasses appear in one of the window panes at a certain point since that's the exact frame where all-white-wearing Muriel is no longer on screen. Muriel's white probably held onto something the Trick needed during that part.

Muriel ends up bookend-ing both sides of the Single of the The Pocket Trick while also being in it. That means Muriel is pocketed into the last touch of The Pocket Trick.

From this point, I consider them both part of a much bigger scene between several characters that ends with the demons leaving. I also consider it the back bookend to that Pocket Trick Single.

The story cuts away to the Metatron and then back to another scene that Crowley and Muriel share with other characters. By the way, the angels and Crowley seem to have generally changed positions overall.

Eventually, everyone leaves, giving Crowley and Muriel a chance to have their own scene together.

Now Crowley is more grumpy. Even so, near the end of their scene, he throws a book at Muriel and says, "Go for it. Here, you'll like this one." How does Crowley know Muriel would like the book? Has he known that book to be liked by a past version of Muriel? Does he just generally know Muriel because they are either friends or decently acquainted even before this scene ever took place? Even if both answers are no, he is probably guiding Muriel to read that book. I have never read that book, The Crow Road, but I have read what other people analyzing Good Omens 2 have had to say about it. That book has characters who communicate in non-verbal code with each other.

That's something both Crowley and Aziraphale do frequently during Good Omens 2. Crowley is actually giving away how he and Aziraphale communicate to Muriel by choosing that book. That could be dangerous with someone he doesn't trust...but he trusts Muriel. He trusts Muriel so much he is trying to tell them something about himself without saying it out loud—or is reminding them.

The story moves on.

In the next Muriel scene, at first glance, it looks like Crowley does not get a front bookend scene with it. Instead, that's given to a mix of the Metatron and Aziraphale as Aziraphale walks away and enters the bookshop. Blended with that scene, Maggie and Nina leave the bookshop with Nina shown to be passing by the Metatron. If one goes back and looks very closely—and I definitely would have missed this part were it not for a Tumblr post I'm happening to remember, a small bit of Crowley can be found in the background when Maggie and Nina were leaving the bookshop.

Muriel has their scene with the Metatron about reading a book. This part allows Muriel's scene to be a front bookend to the last two touches of The Sunglasses Trick, which take place while Crowley and Aziraphale have their argument.

At the same time, Crowley's scene of those touches becomes the back bookend of another Muriel scene. This stuff is happening on purpose as a game from the story.

Crowley leaves. Sometime after, Muriel can be seen looking through the window with a big question of how much they saw of the argument. They saw enough to look sad—like someone who cares about Crowley as a friend would.

Muriel is barely part of the scene with the Metatron and Aziraphale yet still gets book-ended between Crowley scenes.

After that scene, Crowley is shown standing alone as he starts The Door Trick. So, again, we have Muriel acting as a front bookend to a Threshold Trick, and Crowley acting as a back bookend to a Muriel scene.

Muriel is not on screen during the entirety of The Door Trick, The Door Catch, and The Window Trick. They manage to stay out of the way during these important moments in the story even though, as best we can tell, they are somewhere nearby.

In Muriel's last scene, they still get book-ended by Crowley scenes. The Window Trick finishes. Muriel opens the door and enters the bookshop. That makes their scene a back bookend to the last Threshold Trick. Crowley's car is seen driving away. Before the credits start, Crowley is shown driving with short sideburns as the last scene of the season before the credits truly start to roll.

If I understand yet another pattern from this little game, starting from when I said this bookend thing went into hyper-drive, Crowley's supposed to be a front-and-back bookend to Muriel scenes whereas Muriel doesn't do that for as many of Crowley's scenes. They have a special pocket version for The Pocket Trick and a front-and-back bookend to the argument, which was the conclusion of The Sunglasses Trick. One could find Aziraphale's moment alone before the Metatron arrives as debatably its own scene, then Crowley just doesn't front-and-back bookend Muriel at that point. Otherwise, Muriel's supposed to bookend one side or the other of Crowley's scenes but not both.

I wasn't even looking for yet another game, but I found one.

Anyway, I think they're friends—good friends even. It's hard to say how long the friendship existed before season 2. This trust they share would also explain Muriel's last scene with Crowley trusting them to look after the bookshop as he leaves.

...

More here:

Bookend Buddies Part 2 - Crowley and Muriel

[tirfpikachu]

doing some research on making my own tirf zine :] i want to put lots of (respectful) radfem debates within the community, interview trans & detrans radfems and tell their stories, maybe showcase the work of some radfem artists and photographers too!! and i'd love to also include interviews of some tra & terf povs to add diverse opinions on complex topics between the lgbt community and radblr. i might genuinely name it radblr, as cringe as it sounds lmao. or call it tirf with an i. either way this was just a random idea but for funsies i'm gathering some folks in my tirf server who have different sets of skills and just learn more about what it would even look like if it did become a real thing. again, this may or may not end up happening, but at the very least it sounds like a fun thing to play with and learn from. i do want to self-publish my tirf book someday at least initially until i find a publisher who's not afraid of publishing ~controversial~ content or whatever lol. so this could be a nice way to dip my toes into that world y'know? either way it's an exciting thought!

i would want to charge only the price of the publishing cost for the people ordering it online, with the option to pay more to support the zine. i mostly want it to be about community building!! boosting voices that are so often silenced, and showing people the fascinating discussions that can happen between radfems and tras and how we can all try to actually figure shit out instead of endlessly fighting. i also want to show how varied radfem opinions are, and how they aren't always "terfy" the way that tras assume. i would love to have people share the zine within their irl lgbt/leftist community too. and help other radfems make their own zine too!! idk, i really want to start doing more tangible activism <3 i think holding in our hands something about the radfem community we're in could be super empowering!