#it's only words but I mean every one of them in this post

[abearinthewoods]

This last post here is so clearly an example of whats wrong with feminism's way of looking at men. How quick it is to ascribe some malicious intent onto the actions of men.

>Do I vocally object to the slur? To the objectification? To the very premise of the question? This was obviously set up to be bait, to catch me out somehow, to "trigger" me, to gauge where my ideological loyalties were - he didn't really care about my response, he cared about how I worded it, which things I objected to, where my lines in the sand were. He didn't like that I was "the quiet guy." He needed material to pick on me with, and I didn't want to give it to him.

Protip: these trade guys don't consider tranny a slur. it is just the name they heard somebody else refer to them. Its why they tend to call generics by specifics (coke or pepsi for soda in general). Their use of speech is not that complicated.

Anywho, yes, this was setup to bait you, the whole point is no answer is free from mockery. You won by not being effected by this and just answering matter of factly. Being cagey or timid would have been what actually lead to mockery. The other path to "victory" is taking the "brave" or unsafe path and defending it with confidence. You could have answered that "i don't care if shes got a penis or used to be a man, if she looks like that any hole's a goal if you know what I mean" and if you passed the confidence check you'd be treated like a manly man. If they pushed back "you telling me you would turn down those lips around your dick?" and now they have failed the masculinity test.

The only truly unacceptable answer would have been to call it out as objectification. This would have lead to becoming the quiet outcast nobody interacted with.

Women have the same kind of discussions about rather or not they want fuck male celebrities. It doesn't all of the sudden become problematic just because its men doing it.

Anyways, back to the point in my opening sentence. So many assumptions are being made about this coworker's intentions. And almost every single one of them proven to be untrue by the dude's reaction at the end to op's answer, yet his post doesn't even realize this. OP got praised for not being held up by chromosomal ideals around sex and gender but still treats the entire interaction like an example of transphobia. Too blinded by the othering of his coworker as a cis gendered straight tradesmen to even see what actually happened in this interaction.

I'm this close to just sending that trans inclusive radical misogynist post, the one about how there's loads of guys who'll go "oh, you're a man now, great, come shit talk women with us" to every blog insisting that trans men can't have male privilege and it's transandrophobia to say they do. Not every trans man has this experience but it's actually pretty common even for out trans men to be seen as, if not "real" men depending on who you ask, certainly non-women, and encouraged to perform misogyny as part of their social transition.

[1d1195]

The Lottery I

~3.7k words

From me: I thought I would close out 2024 with a mini-series. I'm hoping for shorter parts but I should be able to post on a regular basis (Mondays). You should see MANY similarities to my favorite show. I have been planning this one for over a year. I really hope you enjoy 💕

Warnings: angst (?) fluff

Summary: Small towns have the biggest romances and the best view of the moon.

“I don’t know how you ended up there,” Bailey shook her head.

“Bails,” she laughed. “I Googled it. It’s cute.”

The little town was adorably cute. The kind of place where the Christmas-hating CEO female lead in the movie would fall head over heels for the place in a month because of the small-town charm. It was about thirty minutes outside the city but with traffic it could take up to an hour. It was quaint. The exact kind of place she could envision her little dream.

“Your house is good?” Bailey asked. She nodded, flipping the camera to show her the little place she found to live in. Two stories. But the second floor was small. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a small room for storage. Maybe in the right light it could be a small office, but it would be better holding all her books. The bottom floor was open. Living room, dining area, and a kitchen. Down the hall was another bathroom and her bedroom. Right now, it was filled with boxes and no clear markers for any of the rooms. Her furniture was misplaced—the table in the living room, the TV on top of it, the couch was near the kitchen, and the lamps were atop the counters in the kitchen.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.

Moving in was second to her priorities. So the boxes would stay, her clothes haphazardly falling out of boxes, the iron on top of the island in the kitchen to get the wrinkles out of her blouses. “Neighbors are good?”

“I’ve only met Edith and David. They’re about sixty-five years old and hilarious. Edith is insistent on having tea by the end of the week and David wants to set me up with his grandson.”

“I can’t imagine you outside the city,” Bailey sounded wistful.

“It’ll be good for me to be away from all the big lights. I missed the stars... and the moon,” her voice was filled with fondness. Like the moon was her old friend she hadn’t seen in a while.

“We could see the moon in the city,” Bailey reminded her.

It wasn’t just the moon, it was the stars, and silence that the city never allowed. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“You know babe...” Bailey trailed off. “You look... happy.”

She was. Really happy. The kind of happiness that couldn’t be faked because she was supposed to be happy. The kind of happiness that would make anyone jealous. And why shouldn’t she be happy? She was young, basically fresh out of college, ready to start her own business, and do everything she wanted on her own.

“I am happy,” she nodded and looked at her best friend through FaceTime. “I know everyone thinks I’m crazy. Try not to let them be too mean to me. I’m... I’m good,” she promised. “This is good.”

“You know,” Bailey grinned and shook her head. “I think you’re right.”

*

She wore her lucky dress—the one that she is certain got her a scholarship—and chose a pair of flats over heels because in her quick self-tour of the town she noted the brick sidewalks were likely to take out her ankle. She made sure every single strand of her hair wasn’t out of place. She wanted this to be a good impression. All her books and shows told her that small towns were lovely, but she was an outsider. It was possible that they wouldn’t love a newcomer and so she didn’t want to make it seem like she was changing everything.

But since it was her first night in her new home, there was nothing to eat. Nor to cook with even if she wanted to. Maybe if she had a loaf of bread, she could find her toaster in one of the boxes. Moving on her own was tough but she was proud of herself. Another check she could mark on her to-do list.

Her first order of business was securing her business. However, that couldn’t be done on an empty stomach. She locked the door to the little home she now owned. The trim needed a coat of paint, and she desperately needed to buy a lawn mower. Some of the windows needed to be replaced. She tried opening one of them and nearly threw her back out. The bushes in front of the little porch needed to be trimmed or taken out altogether.

But it was home, and it was lovely. She was excited to do it on her own. It made her feel proud.

Her family was far away. Honestly, it was for the best. They thought it was a terrible idea for her to move, maybe because they couldn’t depend on her any longer. If she thought too long about it, she got upset. But this was good. She was doing what her grandma believed she could do. What her grandpa wanted her to do.

With a family far away, her place was filled with boxes. Hardly anything was unpacked. It was a miracle she found her lucky dress but perhaps that was why it was so lucky. With the distance between them, it was easier to ignore the group chat. Easier to not feel obligated to help her family.

They’re adults, honey. They’ll figure it out.

She hoped her grandma was right.

Her friends were still in the city. Completely shocked she left the hustle and bustle for a small-town place. Their lack of support or what they passed off as worry made her nervous all the same. How would it survive? But she researched the perfect place and took plenty of time setting up everything she needed so she was ready to go when she graduated.

The only thing she wished could be different, was that her grandparents got to see her.

*

The main part of town felt like a city. But way friendlier. People shouted in the middle of the road. Kids ran across the road to the school. There were very few cars but even the ones present parked illegally and the officer strolling the sidewalks didn’t pay any mind to it. It was adorable. It felt like she was in a Disney movie, and she wanted to sing.

The center green was being set up with seats and banners. People were on walkie-talkies directing more items about the area. The space was warm and cozy. Like where she could spend the day reading in the grass and have a picnic with herself or a friend.

God, she hoped she made some friends. It seemed possible. Everyone was so nice. They all knew each other. That was evident. It was so comforting, exactly the change she wanted and needed, and she prayed they wouldn’t hate her for trying to bring something new to their little place.

As her stomach reminded her once more of its presence and emptiness, she approached the diner on one side of the main street. Squished between the post office and a shoe store. Someone was exiting as she opened the door, so she gestured for them to exit before she proceeded. “Thank you, darling,” the man tipped his hat to her.

With one deep breath, she entered.

It was like she was the new girl at school. The second she crossed the threshold of the diner, everyone stared at her. There wasn’t a voice to be heard, the only sound coming from behind the counter in the kitchen. “Uh... hi,” she swallowed. Quietly, she made her way to the counter and situated herself at the end of it away from everyone else.

Sure, she wanted to be part of the community and wanted to be liked, but she didn’t want to force it. The place continued to be quiet, although the murmuring began. No doubt everyone whispered about her. “No newcomers lately, I guess,” she mumbled under her breath and pulled out her folder of paperwork to go over it again.

You’re going to crush it! Bailey’s message read. She smiled gratefully, feeling her heart slow. She was wearing her lucky dress. It was going to happen. She was going to be happy no matter what.

“Shit!” It was paired with the distinct sound of something shattering. She turned directly to the sound as did everyone else in the place and she was on her feet immediately. It wasn’t anything major, a coffee mug on the floor.

“Jesus, honey, watch it!” It was an older woman who scolded her husband with a light thwack on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to, Alice!”

“Harry!” Someone called.

“Jus’ a second,” the voice was from the back, low, almost like it didn’t want to be heard. He must have been cooking or something because there was a commotion in the back behind the kitchen door. She didn’t think much of it because she was worried that poor Alice and her husband were going to get hurt picking up the broken shards or slip in the mess of spilled coffee on the floor.

“I can help,” she offered and crouched near the older woman—Alice—as she struggled to grab the pieces. “Here,” she grabbed a rag off the counter even though she had never been there and it wasn’t her place to do so. Gently she pushed the broken pieces and coffee into a neat little pile sopping up the mess as best she could.

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Alice chimed. “Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” she smiled politely.

“Did you just move here?” She asked. Perhaps that would satiate the whispering.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where are you living?”

“Oh... um... Oak Street,” she stammered. It probably didn’t help her newness that she stammered. But her new address was new; she was still getting used to it.

“Oh, Holliston’s place! It’s a lovely home,” someone called from across the room.

“Y’don’t have t’do that,” it was the same voice that called from the back but now right next to her.

“Oh...” Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him. Did time seem to stop? That couldn’t be right. She wasn’t going to have a crush on the first guy she met on her first official day as a resident of the small town. “I don’t mind,” she said quickly looking up at him from her crouched position. “Happy to help and...” She stopped speaking again as he stared at her. His eyes were pretty, even if he looked grumpy. His mouth was set in a frown, and she noticed that once more everyone stopped speaking. “Sorry,” she said and stood, scooping the mess as best she could in her hands. Coffee dripped from the rag into the puddle at her feet. She could feel the splatter on her ankles, and she was nervous to look if she had ruined her shoes. It didn’t bother her, but she wasn’t sure she’d have time to head home and change before she went to the town hall.

Harry held out the tray for dirty dishes and she placed the rag, broken pieces of mug, and all into it. He dropped it on the counter about two spaces down from where her folder and purse remained. “Are you okay, ma’am?” She asked softly placing a gentle hand on her arm in a comforting kind of way.

“Alice, Ed, y’okay?” Harry—she presumed—was quiet. It almost rubbed her the wrong way that he repeated her, but he knew them, and she didn’t. So, she returned to her seat quietly after offering one more smile to Alice.

“All good, Harry,” Ed said in return.

Harry went back around the counter and fiddled with the coffee pot. He refilled a new mug and brought it over to Ed.  When he returned behind the counter he stood in front of her silently. Waiting. Not offering a word nor question.

Harry looked to be roughly her age. Handsome. If this was David’s grandson, she would have reconsidered his offer. But his scowl was to be desired. Made her uneasy. She wondered if this was how he always was or if it was something about her.

But she wanted to be liked. People generally didn’t dislike her. It would devastate her if he did. As grumpy as he seemed, she wasn’t going to shy away from her own personality. “Do y’want something?”

“What’s your favorite?” She asked glancing from the menu to him.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a favorite.”

She blinked. He worked here. Did he own it? That would be crazy, he was so young. But she was young and about to own her business too. So who was she to judge his age? “How can you not have a favorite?”

“I like it all,” he shrugged.

“You seriously don’t have a favorite?”

“Since I own the diner,” he was explaining it like she was a toddler, “everything is good.”

“Well...” she took a deep breath. It wasn’t that she was one of those people who assumed everyone would like her, but it was... different to work for friendliness. Bailey told her she had the kind of face that would work wonders in sales. Everyone just opened up to her.

But not Harry. Harry was stoic as could be. It barely looked like he was breathing. Other than the irritation in his eyes, he had a really nice face. Smooth skin, angular jaw, and just pretty features that were probably wasted on someone so grumpy. But she could see something flicker in his eyes. Something that she wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to see which is why it was merely a flicker.

Was this grumpy man amused? By her?

“...Do you have a recommendation then?”

“Anything. It’s all good,” he was clearly over this exchange.

She thought she could get him to budge but it didn’t seem that way. This was the fast track to nowhere. Not the impression she wanted to make on her first official day in town. Sighing, she glanced at the specials board. “You have peach pancakes?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have white chocolate chips?”

Harry sighed, exasperated with the conversation, and she hadn’t even ordered her coffee yet. “Yup...” he was staring at her like this was going to kill him. Or he was going to kill her.

“Can I have one of each? Peaches and white chocolate chip?”

“What?” He seemed surprised. Which was interesting because surely it couldn’t have been crazy. Peaches and white chocolate chips had to be popular if he had them. He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” She frowned.

“Because s’extra work t’make a whole batch of peachpancakes and chocolate chip. One or the other.”

Maybe it was his tone or her frustration. The nerves of heading to town hall after breakfast. The piss-poor impression she was making at the extremely local diner where everyone seemed to know Harry. Even though he was grumpy they still ate there. It was obvious this wasn’t their first day being there. They still called out for him when the mug shattered even though she was more than capable of helping.

But she didn’t want to take no for an answer. Maybe if he had placated her or smiled. Or if he just didn’t look at her like she was the bane of his existence she wouldn’t have pressed. “But... I don’t want one or the other. I want one of each.”

“Get ‘em mixed together or don’t have ‘em,” he shrugged.

“But if I get them mixed together, the peaches will sink to one side or slide off all together. The chocolate chips always sink to the bottom. So the ratio in each bite will be off. I’ve tried it before; it just doesn’t blend well.”

“If I make y’one peach and one white chocolate chip, then all m’ratios will be off. I’ll have t’purchase different quantities of peaches and chocolate chips.”

“That seems a little dramatic for one plate of—"

“S’my diner! Jus’ order what’s on the menu or order four pancakes.”

“That’s absurd! I doubt I’ll even eat one whole pancake!”

Harry swallowed hard, his jaw flexing tight. Briefly he looked at the ceiling and then back at her. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “Order what’s on the menu or don’t order at—"

“Fine! Two peach pancakes!”

Honestly, she has no idea why she was arguing in the first place. It was idiotic and childish but there was something about the grumpiness that was off-putting and made her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was solely because he didn’t seem to like her, and she was trying really hard to fit in and he was the only person she had met so far that was close to her own age. If she could get him to like her, then maybe she wouldn’t be friendless and lonely.

With another large sigh (like it was painful for him to be standing near her) he rolled his eyes and headed to the back to make her breakfast. She wouldn’t be surprised if he poisoned them.

The diner was still quiet, and she could feel eyes flicking over to her repeatedly, their gazes heating her up with knowledge she was being watched. To keep her cool, she continued flipping through her paperwork folder and scrolled on her phone.

About ten minutes later, Harry returned holding her plate. It was practically silent again. The show that ensued was not forgotten by the other customers. Harry failed to hide his interest in her paperwork and failed to hide the fact he was reading whatever was in front of her. It didn’t bother her, honestly. She wanted to be an open book. Especially in a small town and especially with the guy that looked beyond irritated with her.

Trying again was insanity. But she was nothing if not one for perseverance. “Do you know what time the town hall opens? I tried to find a time online but—"

Harry snorted. “Town Hall doesn’t do online. S’whenever Sutton gets there t’unlock.”

She blinked. Small towns. “When’s that?”

“Usually before nine-thirty.”

“Usually?”

Harry shrugged, placing the plate in front of her. She could smell cinnamon and maple. Of course, the peaches were starting to caramelize as well and so it really looked utterly delicious. “Sometimes he forgets his alarm. Then s’before ten-thirty.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Alright,” she nodded. “Hey,” she called quietly as Harry turned to leave. “Do you do tabs? I’m probably going to be here every morning before work. It’s fine if you don’t. Just... figured it would easier.”

Did it get even quieter? Harry had a way with sighing. Heavily. Like talking to her and thinking were the two greatest and hardest tasks he’d ever been given in his life. Her eyes quickly darted around the place. There were enough tables to seat about twenty people plus five seats at the counter. It was busy—not crowded or full, but busy. It was just after the morning commute group had left; she had to imagine. The hustle of the nine-to-five crowd was long gone. “Sure,” he shook his head. “Every Friday.”

She was certain she didn’t imagine it that time. The entire place was silent for another ten seconds before the low murmur picked up again.

“Okay, thank you. I just... moved into town and I had no food at my house.”

“Whose house?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Whose house did y’buy?”

“Oh... uh... the Holliston’s?” Was that the name someone said a few moments ago? It had to be because no one corrected her, and it was apparent everyone was listening to her to talk to Harry.

“Nice couple,” she supposed she got it right then. “Do you want coffee?” He asked.

Was this him warming up to her? It was interesting. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t arguing. Which she liked. Although arguing with him was kind of... fun in its own way. But she needed a friend before she argued with him for hours on end.

“Oh, yes,” she nodded quickly. “Please. Thank you.” Was it hot in there? Harry was attractive—even if he was grumpy. A sour face usually turned her off immediately. But with Harry... it didn’t seem so grumpy anymore. Especially now that he stopped arguing with her. The crease between his eyebrows disappeared. His frown turned to a more neutral expression. She swore that flicker of amusement was back again. “This is a really cute town,” she remarked.

Harry ignored the comment as he poured her a mug of steaming coffee and placed a little plate of cream and sugar packets beside it. “What brings y’here?” He asked. She did hear his skepticism like maybe he was going to kick her out before she unpacked if she wasn’t good enough for the clique-y village.

“Oh,” she swallowed. “I’m hoping to open a book shop.”

Harry tilted his head at her, surprise all over his face and she couldn’t figure out for the life of her why that would be. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. Approval? Was she in the club? “Alright, well... welcome, I guess. Let me know if y’need help with the water at y’house. It always gave the Holliston’s trouble in the winter, and I’d have t’go over and fix it. Don’t want y’pipes t’freeze.”

That was it. He walked away. She watched the grumpy, attractive man tend to the tables, cleaning, and serving all by himself. The others were patient. There was no rushing to get to work like it was Starbucks and everyone quietly waited their turn. There wasn’t a lot of small talk with Harry, but people smiled at him. Like they knew him from the time he was a baby. Maybe they did.

She hoped he would warm up to her. It would be nice to have a friend like him.

Turning to her breakfast, she cut into both pancakes stacked on top of one another, brought a bite of the two little pieces to her mouth after drowning it in enough maple syrup to make the man look at her suspiciously from across the room.

There was no way someone was that concerned about ratios of one patron. He could be grumpy all he wanted, but Harry was dramatic too. (Even if it was way more syrup than she needed, and he probably had a point in worrying about syrup—especially if she was going to be there every day.)

But as the bite hit her tastebuds, she had to look down and see it for herself.

One pancake was peach and the other was white chocolate chip.

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[wuuuuman]

Hazard x Reader - You little Gommy

first tumblr post!!! need more fics of him omg pls 1.1k words fluff!! sorry scotland if i fucked up ur language - The quiet atmosphere was deafening, a place usually so full of laughter and talking, suddenly turned to the complete opposite. Everyone in the gang had left to steal a high tech weapon from the Oasis. Well, everyone but her. She stared at the ceiling, the bed creaking a little bit as she moved. Her eyes wandered across the whole room, going through every little detail as if she had never been there before. Boredom can really make a person mad huh?  Her eyes looked through the photos they had taken together as a family. Some of them only have certain people and so on. Her eyes lingered on the picture of her and Findlay, well he is better known as Hazard. She slowly got up from the bed, walking towards the counter and staring at the holographic picture. In the picture they both stared at the camera smiling widely as he held it up, she remembered when they took this photo. It took him so long to figure out how to press one button and she couldn’t stop laughing at him. Such a small thing had such a big impact on her memories. She couldn’t help but let a small smile form on her face as she remembered A sudden sharp pain however had that smile wipe away. She let out a loud groan, her hand immediately flying to hold her side. Oh right, she had gotten hurt during action in their last mission. A guard sneaked up to her and landed a very mean punch to her side, bruising the whole side. Yeah the guard had some sort of knuckle braces or something, was a hard hit anyway. She could remember being so scared that her ribs had been busted, or that the braces had gone deep into her skin, good thing it was none of that. Ribs just got bruised a lot, very painful. She cursed to herself as she tried heading back to bed, only for the pain to strike her back two times worse now. She could only stand still, holding her side, even if touching it wasn’t the best idea either. She leaned on the counter, keeping her balance, waiting for the stronger pain to pass. It was at that moment she heard the faint muffled noise of an engine coming closer and closer. It must be the gang! FUCK! They couldn’t see her out of the bed, she tried to walk forward, pushing through the pain. The quick movements made everything worse, one bad move caused her to twist in a bad way and she fell down onto her knees, fighting against her angry tears. She felt so fucking useless like this. She heard the heavy door to their hideout open, bringing with it loud laughter and quick chatter. One of the voices really stood out to her, Hazard. “We really tore tha' place down ay?!” He laughed, his heavy Scottish accent so intoxicating to her. “You really scared us there for a moment champ.” BoomSlang said, shaking her head as if disappointed even though a smile rested on her face. “Ah! You woulda’ done the same if you were in my place.” He chuckled, giving her back a few pats before walking past all of them. “‘Right. I'm gonna head to bed, don’t do ‘nothin stupid without me!” He waved his hand before disappearing down the hall Hazard walked further from the laughter and chatter of his friends, his steps confident and full of energy. His mind was racing, thinking about everything that happened today. One thing he knows for sure though is that he feels fucking awesome and that he cannot wait to embrace his little darling.

He neared his room and as he finally stopped in front of the door he listened for a moment. Considering there was light coming from the small crack below the door and if she was doing something, but he couldn’t hear anything, perhaps she was still sleeping and recovering. He smiled to himself, opening the door slowly. He was not expecting to see her on the floor on her knees holding her side, trying to lift herself up. “Whadda’ ya doin bonny??!” He said a bit urgently, rushing to her side. “I’m sorry Lay’... I just don't know. I was looking at the pictures, completely forgetting my predicament.” She sighed, looking up at him. “You little gommy. Let’s get ya back to bad ‘right?” He said softly, carefully maneuvering his cybernetic arms to not hurt her. “Thank you..” She mumbled, accepting his gentle help. Once he had her safely tucked under the covers he sat down on the side of the bed, the mattress sinking a bit under her weight. He turned his head over his shoulder, staring at her. She stared back, captivated by his pretty eyes, her cheeks burning up a bit. He chuckled, turning himself around a bit more, so that his whole upper body was now in her line of sight. “Aye.. ya know you can always ask for help right?” He smiled at her, using his left hand to caress her cheek lovingly. “Just don’t wanna be a bother to you…” She mumbled, leaning her head into his palm. “You could neva’ bother me ya numpty. I love you after all don’t i?” He chuckled. She blushed at his words, she had been together with him long enough to figure out some of the slang he used when referring to her or other people. Right now he called her a lovable moron, some people could get offended but they loved lovingly insulting each other, just part of their love language really.

“Alright, you get some sleep yeah? Otherwise yer gonna miss that beauty sleep of yous.” Hazard said, about to get up from the bed to give her some alone time, only to be stopped by a hand quickly latching onto his wrist. She winched a little bit at the sudden movement again, but nothing was going to stop her from speaking her mind. “Wait, please. Could you.. stay with me hun..? I just.. I don't wanna sleep alone, and I need your company..” She asked quietly.

“You know I could neva’ say no to you.” He slowly and carefully climbed into the bed, thankful he had switched out his gun for his other cybernetic arm so that it would be less uncomfortable for her to sleep on. She smiled at him, and snuggled up beside him, his body a walking furnace, she felt so safe and warm beside him. He stared down at her, running his fingers through her hair to soothe her nerves. She looked up at him and motioned for him to lean down a bit which he did. Her lips slowly landed on his, giving him a long kiss goodnight. “Sleep well lassie.” “You too dummy.” - I TRIED!!! Please hazard lovers request stories so i stay motivated

[iblameashley]

Okay... I need to get some thoughts out...

To anyone who hasn't watched the end of Arcane, you may want to skip this. To be kind to y'all, but put my thoughts under the cut.

I really want to start off by saying that I actually did like Arcane! But like with most things, now that I have had time to reflect... I have feelings. And where better to get them out than Tumblr / screaming into the void.

They amusing thing to me about Arcane is that, for all its progressive themes, it still manages to fumble (from my point of view), gay representation. Gay men, specifically...

But as an Old Gay™ who has lived through so many TV shows that bypass, imply, nod, wink and nudge at gay relationships, if not flat out kill the gays and deny them a happy ending; I'm tired of implied gay men.

Lets start with Old Man Yaoi™

So in the alternate universe we get a glimpse of what is heavily implied to be two old gay (or Bi) men happy together.

I know some people might look at it and be like 'you're looking too closely at this, they're just friends now.' but... There is only one thing written more homoerotically and we'll get to that later.

Once again, all we are given is gentle touches, smiles and glances. And that can be fine sometimes. But its all implied and subtle. We have a whole dance scene with Ekko and Jinx, but they could have had Vander and Silco in the background dancing as well? We could have gotten a tender kiss?

We were given lesbian sex in a jail cell, but two gay men having a loving an intimate moment was too much? Of course it was. Lesbians are the safe option. They're always the safe option in TV when you want to have gay relationships. (This is not to say that lesbians get a 100% free pass, or don't have backlash! I simply mean that TV producers feel more confident including lesbians over gay men in media).

And of course we have Jayvik

I read on the other (hell) site that the creators of Arcane never intended to make Jayce and Viktor an item. I don't follow the creators and have no intention of looking it up, but lets be honest... this shit was so homoerotic.

But once again, things are mostly just implied or alluded to.

Would I have loved for them to kiss? Yes. Did I need them to kiss? No.

The gentle touches and looks were nice, for sure. I enjoy the intimacy of the moment, but we couldn't even get an 'I love you' with the actual words.

It feels like, once again, we can't have two men confess they love each other (even if it was platonic) because that would just be too much. Instead we get another repeat of "I want my partner back."

And then of course they explode into... something. Of course they could have simply changed states of being, or something. But its frustrating to always see gay men (viewers) get the short end of the stick once again. I'm tired of having to settle for implied romances or confessions of love from two men.

Anyway. I still loved both seasons of the show overall, but I just needed to let some of my frustrations out. I will now return to being delusional and throwing myself into the fandom to get more gay content that TV still hesitates to provide me with.

As an Aside... Loris deserved better!

I want this man in ways I cannot accurately express on this site. (I'd give this babygirl all the peanuts he'd want)

Thank you for reading my little gay rant. I feel better having typed things out a bit, even if I didn't cover every one of my intrusive thoughts in this post.

[sockatoothewafflebird]

u prolly have already but pls i want in depth yap abt caitvi in arc3 and how they heal :)

oh anon i have NOT yapped about how they heal. not in detail at least. so here we go. there's not a lot that hasn't been said about them, but i'd like to put my perspective into the ring just because. as an eldest sister and as a lesbian i can relate to vi in a lot of ways.

i think my main takeaway for caitvi in act 3 is how they're both human, in the ways they love and in the ways they fight. arcane is a show that respects its audience and trusts us to be able to read between the lines and i appreciate how you can see every little detail of the words they're not saying if you look close enough.

in The Scene especially you can see just how real theyre being... im not gonna dwell on it, but by the skin of my teeth and the bones in my knees they LOVE each other. you can see it so clearly.

caitlyn walks in on vi questioning everything she is. violet legit just let her sister slip from her fingers, again. i cannot tell you how many times i've felt guilty when my sister or brother are hurt or do something wrong, even if i had no part in it. i cannot imagine how much it would hurt to lose them and keep going only because of the possibility of finding them again, and then when i finally do find then they're ripped from my arms. and it happens more than once. i would be in the same place vi is. blaming herself for all of it. making the burden of protecting her sister all hers and no one else's. wondering whether or not she's doing the right thing at all. (cough coughh petra minecraft is that you)

as stressful as they can be sometimes they're my siblings and i'd do anytning for them. and with the kind of person vi is, for her that means punching whoever's in the way. doing whatever she can. she has a big heart and she's never lost it.

after caitlyn basically dumped her in the most entitled way possible vi had nothing left. no one to protect and nothing to fight for. so she fought just for the sake of fighting. after getting her family back and losing them again (holy ballsockets she was put through the wringer) all she had was cait even if cait hurt her. i think even if cait never did anytbing to make it up to her, she would have stayed, because vi needs an anchor.

caitlyn's hurt a lot of people directly or indirectly. she grew up priveleged and stayed that way, never truly seeing exactly how much pain people are going through until it's too late to turn back. caitlyn's arc is a very interesting one because she never says the words "i'm sorry". she never tells vi that what she did was wrong and that she wants to fix it. but she does things that prove her remorse.

caitlyn works with vi in the end of act 2. i think this is partially because she was already skeptical of ambessa from the start, and partially because she wanted to find a way to make it up to her. caitlyn doesn't fold as soon as vi calls her cupcake, that's not what the look is. The Look is her thinking, "wait, does she not hate me? why did she call me her term of endearment even after everything i've done?"

in act 3, caitlyn takes all the guards out of the prison, because she knew vi would try to rescue her sister. in the words of another post i forgot to save (deepest apologies to the op of that one), vi could have taken jinx and ran. caitlyn might have never seen her again and she let that happen anyway. and cait even went to the cell to check to see if her theory was true, and lo and behold it was. and vi failed at trying to save her sister. again.

what does caitlyn do? she tells vi that she relieved the prison of the guards because of her. all confident and sultry and commanding like she knows what she's doing.

and then when they're getting into it caitlyn frantically pulls away. she realizes that, yeah, she still needs to make things right. she tries to be honest, tell vi that she saw someone else, and vi just reassures her and keeps going. i think thisnis because 1) vi wants the cupcake, who wouldn't, and 2) she's... not exactly forgiving, that needs more work- but she's showing her appreciation for caitlyn here. caitlyn did something huge for her, she let her break a prisoner out which could have dire consequences for both of them.

i think vi just absolutely smothering cait is also a way to show that even though cait hurt her physically as well as emotionally, she's gone past that. if vi hadn't at least given some thought about cait's actions she would not let this happen, i don't think, unless she's super desperate. this proves that vi is starting to move on and cait is starting to revert back to that sputtering stuttering pinned-to-a-wall-flustered woman she was in season one- that's the woman vi fell in love with, after all... and that woman is battered and bruised and has plenty of sins to stone for. but that woman is not dead.

The Scene in the cell is both them being desperate and them showing their love for each other without words. caitlyn's hand lingers on vi's injury, maybe about to utter an apology, but vi cuts her off anyway. there's SO many little things here gaughehgjf.

and in the end of the show, when caitlyn looks into the hexgates in her family's archives, she looks because vi probably asked her to. vi wanted to be sure. she looked because she cares about vi. whether or not she'll tell vi about this is an interesting thought- i don't think she would. it would undermine jinx's sacrifice.

jinx walked away so she could move on. so piltover could move on. so zaun could move on. so vi could move on. and caitlyn telling vi that she's alive would ruin the steps they've taken towards healing.

i think vi's main problem was dedicating her life to her sister and nothing else. and caitlyn's was just her exploiting a broken system and mever recognizing her faults. vi starts to heal because now that her sister is truly gone to her, she can move away from the past and build her own future. and now that caitlyn's fully realized her mistakes she can take steps towards changing piltover for the better. GAHH i love complicated sapphics especially when there's sapphic joy after all the suffering....

this was all written in one sitting so apologies if it's messy, and i've sort of compiled some other ideas and theories i've seen in here too; but yeah, these are my thoughts on caitvi in season 2. i think they could've been fleshed out a bit more, but overall their relationship is legendary. i'll never stop loving them. caitvi supremacy people 💪

[purrple-sectors]

I had this post on my drafts for months ngl and I think with everything that's happening (and to not let it rot on the drafts) it should be shared

----

With the Lando hate train going on, and many other hate trains, I feel like there's some things that need to be said related to fandom and hate culture in general, this is not only about Lando and it applies to any driver

It's very valid to dislike, lose respect, and/or hate a driver to some degree, but death wishes, including wishing for a serious crash and general hate speech is NOT OKAY in any way

There's some very valid stuff to hate about a driver, but not all things they do are valid to hate, for instance many of their actions are reasonable and not properly wrong, I'm talking for example about when they complain on the radio when they're genuinely struggling with the car

It's okay for people to like a driver you dislike and it's okay for people to dislike a driver you like, don't harass fans for having opinions different than yours

Refrain from using isolated quotes or sentences from drivers to base all your mindless hating but also defending, context matters like the question they were answering, what they said before and/or after, try to understand the situation in a wilder angle before making assumptions and spreading misinformation

Avoid generalising actions, the drivers are human beings, and humans are very complex, only bc they did/said something shitty once, that doesn't mean all they do is always with malicious intent

I know we are on a time where media impressions are so absolutely central that it's normal to question the motives behind some statements, but that's doesn't mean they are all done with manipulative intent, yes we can never be sure but that also means that we aren't sure if it was truly a pr manipulative move

Try to not claim that you know for sure the true intentions of a driver when its not disclosed and the comment/action itself is very dubious and/or not very serious, you can guess it but you shouldn't go around saying that what you think is the factual truth, you don't know them personally and what is going on on their heads, a comment you may feel like it was made with ill intent, could have been done very innocently and naively. I'm not saying that it always happens however at least try to consider that it may be a possibility

Don't go overanalysing and dissecting a driver's every action and words with the purpose of only finding things to hate on them, not only is quite disrespectful it's frankly borderline obsessive and creepy

If you want to truly hate, there's specific places where you can do it, but don't let it bled to spaces like Twitter and Instagram comments, places where most drivers (like Lando) are very present and can see not only the hate directed to them but also the hate directed to other drivers. This also include spaces where drivers' close ones can see the hate, mentioning in particular Max F's twitch chat.

But be aware that if you're hating/speaking ill about a driver on a social media platform there may be people that can get uncomfortable with it and block you as they should. DO NOT make it personal or weoponize it, they have every right to block you if they feel uncomfortable and dont want to see your content

Lasty if you ever feel like your mental health is in stake bc of f1, turn it off and give it a break, your mental health shouldn't dependent on some drivers that don't even know you, its okay to feel this way but it's imo unfair to blame on a driver for their performance when theyre simply doing their job and doing their best

On a final note all the drivers have done something shitty and/or had shitty attitudes at some point but many people are clouded by judgement and mindless hate some drivers without acknowledging (and refusing to) that their faves also did things wrong, please avoid doing this, not only its very hypocritical but its quite a dangerous mentality of "My fave cant do any wrong" that can easily be translated to day to day life, try to be critical on serious situations, and hold ALL drivers accountable for things they said/done, not just the ones you personally feel to! You will come across as quite hypocritical if you just select a few drivers and not hold anything accountable to others (especially if they're your faves) and in the long run is not a very good look

To sum up just practice basic human decency, this is mostly my take of view so take it with a grain of salt if it pleases you so. This applies to any driver and I'll add more if I find other things to say. To any new fans out there the only thing I ask you is to try to educate yourself before jumping into any hate train, give yourself a chance to form an opinion and then see which part or side of the community you relate most, don't let others dictate your opinion.

[chainfen]

I want to preface this with the fact that response came from myself and OP directly discussing this post, and me offering to further elaborate on my own opinions on a universe I too enjoy very much.

As I've delved into the HDG universe over the last few months, I've found myself struggling to understand why I find a lot of the writing I'm really enjoying to in some way still be unfulfilling. Reading this piece helped me realise that for a lot of them, it's because they simply do not cement themselves in fantasy. As a group of widely diverse both creators and readers, whether that be race, gender, sexuality- we are choosing to engage in a collective universe, with established boundaries and context, that is high fantastical. That's the entire point of it, is it not? the concept of being allowed to build a version of yourself that is your 'idealised' form; free from the economic constraints of capitalism, the socio-political constraints of wider society and social perception, for some even the limits unbreakable by species.

I don't, like you said, want to put down the idea that there is a catharsis and a rawness in being able to do that. The things I would do to be able to do that. The sheer escapism that the HDG universe offers me- a chronically ill, disabled, transsexual butch plural system, is something I would struggle to find anywhere else. But it feels like there is trend within the content in the universe to build it's women out of a generic base model, one that I see every day on every billboard all around me. There's an almost sterile nature to it, that makes me feel uncomfortable. A woman is small, submissive, feminine, hairless... perfect.

Tangential talk about noncon here, but it's relevant. I'm willing to roll with the idea that noncon as a concept exists within the HDG universe because the Affini believe that they do things for the best interest of the sophont in question- this is not something I'm trying to bring into question. However, as we know it is very thematic for this override of control to include egg cracking, HRT, removal of body hair and body modification that ranges from minor health related changes, to limb changes and additions, as well as full SRS. And whilst I as a reader can not only enjoy these elements, but understand the necessity of them within the storytelling, it once again removes me from the fact that this is meant to be fantasy.

What does it mean to 'be feminine' or be made 'girly'. How does one define those words? How does one separate them from gender, if you can? I can understand that the responses to those questions might be different for each person- but putting that aside, the only actual prerequisite to being 'girly' is to be a girl. I am not ignoring the social implications of being called 'girly' and it's wider use to often mean effeminate, or weak, but I am calling to attention the idea that there is no one look to what is perceived as 'girly'. In regards to femininity, as a GNC butch who has femininity often imposed on me societally because of my stature, there is a pain in the norm of associating these things with the ideal woman without a much wider commentary on why we feel the need to do this.

The Affini are bound by a collective and paternal duty to, well to put it short, care. To ensure the safety, happiness, and realised potential of all xenosophont races they domesticate, every individual, even those who resist it the most. I don't want to have to suspend my disbelief in my escapist fantasy world to believe that they, as an entire race, believe that the best way to treat the damage done to transgender Terrans is to reinforce and comply with the standard that caused them the very damage and trauma they're trying to undo in the first place? This idea of what a woman should be. This perfect model of ideal sterilised femininity who is gorgeous, ageless, hairless and always youthful. That the path to healing the insurmountable harm humanity has committed against transgender, non-binary, and GNC people is to reinforce their home world stereotype that was constructed around an imposed colonialist view of gender that centred the subjugation of women as a gender and ensuring they would be subordinate

and a note, for those in the comments saying OP is 'holier than thou' for the way they express their trans-femininity, or their thoughts on hair removal. I need you to reflect on the fact that your perception of an ideal woman is racist. I am not, in any way saying that it is wrong for you to feel the way you do or to want the things you want. But there needs to be a reflection on the values you apply to womanhood. Idealised white femininity intentionally devalues non Eurocentric features and labels them as masculine to dehumanise and devalue women of colour. You are not being radical or subversive by continuing to uphold these values in a fantasy universe that is meant to be for all.

Trans Feminism and the Human Domestication Guide

Or

Wishing on a misogynistic star won't make your dreams come true

Thesis: A running theme in some parts of the HDG sphere is the unintentional chase and valorisation of misogynistic standards for women in the pursuit of validation.

“The most radical thing that any of us can do is to stop projecting our beliefs about gender onto other people's behaviours and bodies”

― Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity

I would like to open by declaring my own identities, both as a shield against a particular kind of bad faith criticism, but also to demonstrate that I’m operating in good faith here. I’m a fat, hairy, physically disabled, transgender, butch dyke who writes within the HDG setting with great joy and greater love for the community. I’m also hot as fuck. That established, I’ll continue:

There is a particularly pernicious lie that revolves around the state of women's bodies; that there is a correct way to have one and that those who do not meet these standards are unfeminine or otherwise worthless. It must have a vagina, of course, but it must also be white, thin, able, hairless, youthful, fit but not strong and, of course, soft. 

Trans feminism, and by that I direct my attention to feminist speech within trans and gender non-conformist spaces, has managed to, if not defeat, then at least combat one of the great evils of cis sexism, the necessity of the vagina. The ongoing and necessary validation of the girl cock as beautiful, as wonderful, as feminine is a wonderful, joyful thing. We (trans feminine people) exist as part of the spectrum of womanhood, and that means that our bodies also exist within and without that spectrum of womanhood as well. 

However, trans feminism of a particular kind has - rather than continue the work done to uplift the gock - has embraced a particular kind of ugly lie we’re taught. In many cases - due to a perceived desire to be as close to flawlessly woman as we can be - the focus will instead fall on a particular kind of trans feminine person who manages to engage with and evoke those standards aside from the obvious. To paraphrase Julia Serano in illustrating this point:

“Whether unconscious or deliberate, the gatekeepers clearly sought to … ensure that most people who did transition would not be “gender-ambiguous” in any way”

― Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity 

One of the beauties of the class-G is that it allows the character to experience their body in an idealised form. I recognise and applaud this position, it is beautiful to see a writer able to imagine themselves completely idealised, completely transformed into something that doesn’t hurt. However, therein lies the rub; the ideal depicted displays some of that ugliness, some of the roots of misogyny that thread their ways through our brains like poison and make us into useful fools for its goals.

The thought that brought about this essay is a repeated phrasing that appears across several works within the HDG milieu; that to be hairless and soft is to be feminine. A character will have their body hair, all their body hair bar that on their head, removed and thus will be made ‘girly’. They, and other characters, may remark on how much more they feel like a woman, unconsciously or consciously linking womanhood to that hairlessness. 

You may note that this directly plays into another cis-sexist standard of beauty; that to be feminine requires a certain girlishness, a pubescent budding that belies the possibility of cellulite or wrinkles or the consequences of living a life where one is not simply a doll.

What is my objection to that? Surely, every writer has the right to depict their own wish fulfilment fantasies. Certainly yes, but also… one must ask at which point we celebrate their dreams and at what point we ask people to engage with their biases and question what they consider to be true. Women, all kinda of women, are hairy. Women have pubic hair, arm hair, leg hair, chest hair, even facial hair. The seeming desire to be completely hairless is as ‘unnatural’ a goal as any other, as ‘unnatural’ as any expectation set for us by the white supremacist culture most of us are steeped in. To return to whipping girl:

“Rather than question our own value judgments or notice the ways that we treat people differently based on their size, beauty, or gender, most of us reflexively react to these situations in a way that reinforces class boundaries: We focus on the presumed “artificiality” of the transformation the subject has undergone.”

― Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity 

It must be noted that at least part of this problem is with what the reader brings to the table. When something goes unstated, we resort to the baseline of our biases and, due to the way society is structured, that baseline is generally white, thin and physically able. Beauty and femininity are racialised concepts, and I think we fall into traps headlong that white supremacy establishes for us. I am not the person to write an essay critiquing race in HDG, but I recognise the consequences of race and the expectations of white femininity on the work. Thus, then, we must consider the text, and the text is very often pretty clear about its characters.

How many protagonists of a human domestication guide story are textually fat? How many are stated in the text to be people of colour? How many of them are, if not stated to be, then implied through lack of mention, white, and thin? These questions ignore the many that are actively identified as those things. (I will pause here to note that Dog of War - notable as the most popular piece of work in the setting - features a protagonist who is both brown and fat, and I’m extremely happy to see it).

Collectively, as writers, we have seen a future where everyone is accepted and have created a world where the depictions of acceptance come with conformity to modern misogyny. We create a world without boundaries, where a person can be digitalised or made into a dog, and our characters are still aping their ancestors of five centuries prior in seeking validation of self. We are, I would argue (and borrowing heavily from Butler), ‘uncritically mimicking the strategy of the oppressor instead of offering a different set of terms.’

This is not, I would like to be clear, an attack on any particular story. You may recognise elements of several stories in this essay, and perhaps there are particular things I am drawing on, however, this essay does not charge the product of the writer's work with anything. That body of text can exist and be critiqued, but does not exist as a thoughtful, philosophical actor. Rather, I would charge us writers, all of us, with being more thoughtful as we engage with what femininity means to us and what is and is not feminine in a world where anything is possible.

Finally, a quote from Gender Outlaw that I direct at myself as much as anyone else:

“Let's stop pretending that we have all the answers, because when it comes to gender, none of us is fucking omniscient.”

― Kate Bornstein, Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation

[something-tofightfor]

A PSA:

This wasn’t a post that I ever thought I’d make on here, but it’s something that I’m choosing to do because I want to be transparent about it - and about myself. 

It was brought to my attention that there are people that used the information they knew about me gained through a private space to seek out my twitter account. They then used the discovery of my twitter to search for a slew of very specific words and phrases in order to drag up things that I may or may not have said throughout the years in order to use what they found against me and to paint me as a variety of things that I am not. Unfortunately, there were tweets that they did find. I’m not proud of the way I spoke and behaved online in my early 20’s. I said hurtful things, and portrayed myself - via these words - as something that I am completely ashamed of now. Of course, looking back, it’s easy to say “I definitely shouldn’t have said these things” - but that’s the truth. I shouldn’t have, and I regret that these things exist under my name, even if only via screenshot in present day.

I’m including some of the examples beneath the cut, because I don’t want to trigger anyone without their consent. But in the spirit of being open about the things I said in the past, I think it’s important to admit to them as an example of the way people can and do change their behaviors over time - and in recognition that these tweets do not reflect me as a person - or my feelings and opinions - any longer. (TW: the following images contain text that includes instances of racism and homophobia).

These tweets as well as others in the same vein I have been able to find have been deleted from my profile - which should have been done sooner - because they are horrifying to me as I look back on them. In reality, they never should have been tweeted in the first place. Many of them, I don’t remember tweeting, but that doesn’t excuse my past behavior - or negate the fact that they were up in the first place. These are not a reflection of me, today, as a person, and if I met younger Rachael, I would call her out on her shit immediately.

But as you can see, the dates show you that the majority are from well over decade ago - and in the time since, I’ve reevaluated a ton of things including the way that I speak, the things that I say, and the phrasing that I choose to use. Using terms like “gay” or “lesbian” in the manner that I used to is unacceptable. Bringing up race or ethnicity as a generalization for a group is also unacceptable. I have no ill will toward people based on their sexual orientation, race, gender etc.

I will also say that - because it is public information - I am a registered Republican voter (as I was encouraged to sign up that way when I turned 18) and have voted for occasional Republican candidates in recent local elections, but have not voted for a Republican presidential candidate since Mitt Romney in 2012. Many of my family members are Republicans as well, and before I really had a chance to be out on my own after college, I unfortnately echoed a lot of their sentiments about R vs D when it came to politics in my late teens and early 20's. I had a lot of issues with Obama's presidency, but NONE of them were based on his skin color. That tweet above absolutely fills me with shame even 13 years later, and I can't put into words how uncomfortable it makes me to know that at some point, I actually typed those words out and then POSTED them, because present-day me cannot reconcile with feeling that way and expressing that type of sentiment.

There is certain context, also, to the 'thanks for not being gay' tweets that wasn't shared - and while it doesn't excuse them, the phrase was used between the friend whose name is blocked and I due to the exact thing being said to HER by a coworker, and both of us thinking it was an absurd thing to thank someone for. And Spangler Park was a running joke in the city that I used to live in, due to the fact that the weekly police blotter was filled with reports of gay men using it as a meeting place for public sexual acts.

Trying to explain myself isn't a valid defense to much of the content here, but it's also important to remember that context matters in many cases - like with the Daniel Tosh (who is a comedian) reply, that was clearly in response to something he said on his own account, but what that was is unknown to me 13 years later since it wasn't a quote tweet.

I am constantly trying to hold myself just as accountable as I hold others in my life for the things they say, do, and believe. I would not tweet or say any of these things today. I do not believe any of these things today. I have grown and learned a lot in the last decade plus, and I hope that that is reflected in my current behavior and with the people and causes I support. I am not the same person at 37 that I was at 22-23 - very few people are.

I will end this with a sincere apology to anyone that I may have hurt with these messages and my behavior - both now and in the past. I regret saying these things. I regret the fact that for a period of time, I "spoke" with very little thought about the impact of my words, or how wrong these things were to say. I have tried to - and hopefully accomplished - make changes in my life throughout the years, and continue to do so every day. 

It's impossible to make meaningful changes overnight, but I hope that you believe me when I say that over the course of the last decade, I have changed a great deal about myself and my behavior, and work hard to keep learning as the world around me changes, too.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. My inbox and DMs are open for questions and conversation, if you have anything to say. If this is where you choose to part ways with me, I wholeheartedly understand that, too, and wish you the best. An additional reply to an ask I received

[skippingthroughfields]

one thing that's missing from these convos about amc not submitting assad zaman for a golden globes nom that makes it 10x more malicious on amc's part is that a nomination isn't just like oh... ~simple appreciation for an actor's performance. even if there's no win, it results in a profile boost for these actors & them being able to command a higher salary when it comes to future projects. it's something that gets notice on their CV. these studios and networks love being able to market their shit with things like "starring golden globe nominee john doe" or "emmy winner jane doe." the emmys are more prestigious than the golden globes which are more prestigious than the critics choice awards (the one they submitted him for with two other actors lol). actors get nominated and have the opportunity to get attention from social media posts, article mentions, attending the red carpet, having their name announced and a little clip of their acting shown. that's not nothing! attention from possible new fans, publications, execs, peers, producers, directors, fashion houses & other industries which could lead to $$$ and sponsorships. I won't make any presumptions about the cast's finances but I do know amc is probably not paying them their worth, least of all the bangladeshi muslim who barely had any major roles in tv/film prior to the show.

there are fees and costs associated with submitting for awards consideration and FYC ads. the network basically took a look at assad's brown skin and name and said they don't think he's worth the money over the white actor who had less screentime and narrative importance (to the season ig) which is absolutely crazy lmao. it shouldn't be controversial to say that and you can't not discuss this without bringing up sam's name. this has nothing to do with whether he "deserved" to be submitted (and even if I said he doesn't deserve it over assad who's gonna beat my ass?). this white man isn't being persecuted by conversations about blatant racism. but I'd expect nothing less from this fanbase x.

[seaweedstarshine]

Haters call eleven straight Doctor because he’s attracted to older women, when his type is clearly just morally questionable people who look middle-aged (he calls Churchill “dear,” don’t forget. he never calls Amy or Clara that. Churchill is in the same category as River and the TARDIS).

[nbclover]

What if you could exist as nonbinary in the world

[uniquezombiedestiny]

thinking about senet and votive again (explodes into a million shards. walks into the ocean. lays on the floor. god)

it couldnt be real. i couldnt believe it, couldnt believe in it, so i crushed it. now it's shards on the floor and all i can do is look. i can look, it's bearable to, but all the light that was once in it is gone

when senet finally gets what he wanted, when he looks back so utterly joyfully, at votive who has suffered nothing but misery. it surrouned her always, leading so many others to their demises too, because that's just what she is. there's nothing else to it, so she learned to be happy in misfortune and to find it in misery itself

and then senet came along and proved her all wrong. every hardship he beared through with her, and when when he wavered, votive (as much as she obscured her words and intent) still picked him back up, for some reason. maybe it was the community they saw in eachother.

two disgraced nobles, prince and heiress. two travelers, wearing the same masks, chatting along as they walked a path alone, as noone else would come near them. the innocent and the knowing, the pitying. the knowing one who was proved wrong in the end by someone who, entirely naively, refused to stop hoping.

and when he finally found a cure, a way out, for the entirely unknown ailment that was leading him to a slow, likely miserable death for so long, she stared in bewilderment. the most emotion she'd expressed in a long time.

it couldnt be real that he found happiness with her by his side - with her there. it couldnt be real that she had anything to do with hope and joy and happiness

so she betrayed him at the very last second. just to prove it. to prove something to them herself

votive is an omen of misfortune and misery

senet is the innocent, naive traveler who made the mistake of staying by her side

senet is the one who weathered through the storm, who hoped against all odds, until he made it out on the other side

no. senet was not the one

senet is the idiot, senet is the fool in this play, the one who made the fatal mistake of trusting her, the one who dared to challenge his puppet strings, the one who couldn't see when to possibly quit and stop trying to give affection to a mere dead mass of brambles and thorns

he's the one who won, his victory now forever scarred by a betrayal he will never understand, one that did nothing at all to change anything.

and votive is the idiot, alone, looking up and wondering where her puppet strings are

[cosmogyros]

I swear to God, modern music production is so FLAT that it physically hurts to listen to. There's no spatial depth to it, no air, no sense of this music actually being performed in a real three-dimensional space. Please can we bring back breath and air and space in music production?

[obnoxiousarcade]

I have a longing to be understood more than anything else i think

[formulapisces]

shamelessly vagueing here and this sounds harsh but jesus some people really need to start realising not everything is about them.

not in a stuck up, the world revolves around me, arrogant way. but in a they’re not laughing about you, they’re not gossiping about you, you’re just insecure, reading into every little thing, hurt and need help type of way.

[a-high-femme]

rant in tags bc I want to sob into a pillow