#like genuinely when their latin reads just like english. come on

[fluentisonus]

sometimes when modern academics write in latin it is so cringey godbless

[inaflashimagine]

lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?” 

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day. 

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks. 

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas. 

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!” 

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from. 

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened? 

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

— 

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained. 

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night. 

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop. 

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises. 

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him. 

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky. 

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet. 

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla. 

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling. 

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada. 

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking. 

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be. 

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises. 

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze. 

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke. 

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden. 

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.   

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.” 

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Hi, I absolutely love the way you breakdown tswift songs, and I just wanted to clarify something, that's been bothering me. In 7 she mentions this part "we'll move to India forever" at first I was just like yeah, but the more I listened to it, the more I was like what kind of fucking colonist/white mindset is that? You'll never tour to India but you want to move here?? LIKE??? NO!!!! Don't!!! We've had enough of you white people exploiting us without ever actually ever caring for our country.

Feel free to vent about whatever Taylor Swift lyric you hate. I literally love it. :)

Because you're right, I always saw the line "we'll move to India forever" in the most charitable light. I remember thinking to myself, when I first heard it, that maybe she just loves India.

It made sense to me- because during the pandemic I fell into reading a BUNCH about India's culture, religion, food, anything. (My interest was mostly a result of linguistic interest into how India has shaped the English Language over time). Despite English only being present in the region due to colonialism, India has had a remarkable impact on shaping the Language itself! I emphasize post-colonial theory in my real job- and while I don't write much on India's relation to English Linguistics, I enjoy reading on the subject. So that's why I find it so interesting- because it really speaks to human ingenuity and perseverance. You know? The linguistic diversity present in India alone is so cool- and I really could talk about it forever.

So, I heard the line, and my first thought was like "yeah, okay maybe she just loves India?"

I think I was being too kind with that initial response.

But dude- she's never even toured in India? Like she just refused to go? She's never once talked about India in a positive light at all. So then why would she write that line? Like she will go to any random country in Europe, go to any random state in the USA, and go to couple of select places in Latin America, but it seems like she outright ignores Southern parts of Asia? Except Singapore- because they gave her a boatload of money, I guess. So, why write that line? Why write all of "Karma" is she has no genuine interest or respect for the people from which that philosophy comes?

In combination with her obvious pro-colonialist imagery in her other work, like the "Wildest Dreams" music video, the line in "Bejeweled" about reclaiming the land, and the latest line in "But Daddy I Love Him" about how she wants to win the West, I now believe her line about moving to India to be pure Orientalism.

Plus, the whole issue with the "Karma" song in which she is denigrating the philosophical concept of Karma and making it seem like nothing more than a shallow idiomatic ideal on revenge.

I think she's just an idiot who wants to mention "India" like it's some fantastical realm far away from "reality" (Eg), to her, the USA, as if India is not a real place with a real history and real culture. This is what I mean when I say she offers India no respect or appreciation- you can't liken a place to a mystical realm removed from reality without removing it from its history, culture, and people.

If the whole line is "Pack your dolls in a sweater/ We'll move to India forever/ Passed down like Folksongs" ("Seven" 2020).

She is intuitively linking the concept of moving to India with that of a childhood fantasy- with the word "dolls"- one childhood fantasy which will be ultimately unfulfilled. Thus, I support the argument that her line about moving to India is only in reference to the fact that it's like an unreal fantasy- worlds away from reality.

In literary theory, we call this process of subjective reality removal, and fetishization of the East as a fantasy realm, Orientalism. Orientalism is the act of creating a fantasy of the East, in this case India, that is often full of stereotypes or predicated solely on the myopic lens of western perspective.

Naturally, this facet of literature was mainly popular during the height of British Colonialism in India- in the 19th century. So why is Taylor Swift negotiating Orientalist attitudes in a song in the year of 2020? WHY! Uh- (because she's a fucking Racist with no respect for anyone who's not White and from USA). I've been blind- I fear.

It's such a rude oversimplification of such a diverse and interesting place- and all of her many nods towards Colonialism are so disgusting - I'm actually pissed off about it.

Anyway- That was my long-winded way of completely agreeing with you. You're right it's a shitty colonialist attitude and she should not be getting away with it.

[creature-wizard]

Hii genuine question. Are Christian holidays not actually from a basis of paganism? I felt like from what I’ve read about it before made sense to me

So like, a lot of people basically jumped to conclusions whenever a Christian holiday was either celebrated near the time of an old pre-Christian holiday, or its name sounded superficially similar to something pre-Christian, or its popular celebrations included elements that didn't seem quite Christian enough.

So, let's take Easter, for example. At one point, this guy Bede mentioned that the holiday got its name from "Eostremonath," IE, Eostre Month, which was named after an old goddess, Eostre. Now, that may very well be true, but it doesn't demonstrate that the holiday had pagan origins. See, when it comes to words for the holiday celebrating Jesus's resurrections, English is an outlier. Most European languages use words that derive from Pascha, which is ultimately derived from the Hebrew word Pesach, as in Passover.

There's also no evidence that Eostre's symbols included eggs or hares. In fact, everything we know about Eostre comes from Bede. Anything else is just guesswork. Dr. Andrew Henry of ReligionForBreakfast on YouTube, by the way, has a decent video on the topic of Eostre.

So why eggs, anyway? Well, back in the day, eggs were forbidden during Lent, so by the time Easter rolled around people had like a month's worth of eggs stacked up. So like, why not eggs?

And then of course, Alexander Hislop completely pulled the Easter/Ishtar connection out of his ass, because he was an anti-Catholic conspiracy theorist who did not care about scholarship, only about demonizing the Catholic Church.

Christmas has been claimed to have been derived from Saturnalia or Sol Invictus based on similarities in dates, but scholars have found that there was this belief that holy men died on the same day they were conceived. So if we start with Good Friday and fast forward nine months, that puts us either in December or January, depending on when exactly you believe Jesus was crucified. So Western traditions, which went for March 25, settled on December 25, whereas Eastern traditions, which went with April 6, got January 6. Dr. Andrew Henry talks about this here.

Christmas trees are also claimed to be pagan, but in reality they weren't a thing until the late medieval period. The earliest known reference to a decorated tree goes back to 1419. Or, it might be a tree; the word used ("Bom") could also mean a pole, as in a decorated pole like a maypole. It was shortly after this that people began erecting trees out in public squares. Again, Dr. Andrew Henry has a video on this.

And yes, it's true that Christmas is called something like Yule or Jol in other languages, but as we've determined from Easter, a name doesn't necessarily tell us where something came from. Most languages don't use anything like Yule; for example, English uses Christmas, as in, "Christ's Mass," while many languages use a word deriving from the Latin natalis, as in "birth," as in "Jesus's birthday."

Just about every attempt to link a Christian holiday to a pre-Christian one is operating on similarly poor methodologies. People just kinda drew conclusions based on things looking kinda similar without looking closer to see if they were really actually connected, or based on things not lining up with their personal ideas of how Christians ought to behave. (This whole idea that pure, true Christianity is sourced 100% from the Bible and the Bible alone is very Protestant, btw. It's also a position that would have baffled the earliest Christians, who didn't even have a New Testament and didn't regard things like the the epistles as holy scripture yet.)

Now of course, the Christianization of Europe didn't overwrite its cultures entirely, and local cultural beliefs and traditions ultimately did influence holiday traditions in some way; Christmas elves are a pretty clear example of this. But this whole idea that the Catholic Church just stole all these pagan holidays and remade them into Christian ones is pseudohistory.

[greenandsorrow]

What once was.

the secret history fanfic

"One likes to think there's something in it, that old platitude amor vincit omnia. But if I've learned one thing in my short sad life, it is that that particular platitude is a lie. Love doesn't conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool."

I'm a fool... Richard was right. Love has the power to conquer many things, it can make the shy act brave and the brave act shy, but it cannot conquer death. I used to think Henry could not be conquered by neither love or death. I such was a fool.

Author's note 🦋

This story will be very self indulgent and maybe not for everyone! I am aware that the characters of the book aren't meant to be romanticised and I'm also aware of all the elitism and pretense that's portrayed in the book, but I still love it. If you love it too, you'll excuse me, I know it.🏛️🍂☕

No Bacchanal will take place in this fic. The characters will still be messed up, but not guilty of murder. Richard won't be the narrator. Another mention, this is Henry centred!

The Secret History left a big impression on me when I first read it (I've read it three times so far) because: I) I'm greek, live in Greece & speak greek, II) during high school I had to study ancient greek and latin to death III) I have a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

I hope you'll like my attempt at inserting a new character. Obviously, this isn't even trying to compare to Donna Tart's exquisite talent, it's just fanfiction.

That's just an introduction. I'm a bit insecure about writing something I aspire to be a bit more "serious", especially when it comes to my use of the English language, but it's fine I guess.

The title is basically "What once was" by Her's.

My OC, Rita, is definitely my shameless self insert. I didn't want to make her flawless, without any negative traits. I also wanted to explore the contradiction between a raw, almost bohemian person against Henry's perfectionistic and almost non-human at times personality. Rita is genuine, she is simple but in a complicated way (like all of us). She shares the same passion of the ancient world with her classmates, but not in their flamboyant manner. In a way it's her heritage, Plato, Homer & the twelve Gods of Olympus, but she embraces the fact in a grounded way, not in an obsessive one.

Just like the title is inspired by a song, so is Henry & Rita's backstory. The childhood I'll be referring to is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "seven". You don't have to be a Swiftie to enjoy this fic, but do listen to the song. It describes the purity of childhood friendships. Childhood friends that get separated for years only to find each other by chance (or fate) is all the information you need for now.

Warnings; possibility of smut/ nsfw content, mentions of childhood trauma and abandonment, triggering themes in general, physical injuries, mental issues, self harm, homophobic people from the 80's, some cute moments that might be out of character for the gang, stereotypes that I don't resign with but are part of the plot, dark themes that might have to do with death, pov changes

the masterpost

my masterlist

YOU CAN ASK TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s4 episode 9 thoughts

this day had aspects which i did not care for, which is why i am hoping that the thrilling tale of mulder escaping a gulag will bring light and warmth to my heart.

author’s note, post episode: i need answers i need answers i need those slugs destroyed. this episode vastly improved my day and i remembered the simple joys of being alive, such as watching silly TV shows where the characters have an indescribable bond. truly a pleasure to be alive despite it all. scully and mulder, you have shown me such wisdom.

excellent moments for both scully and mulder in this one, which i treasure deeply, and also their together moments made my heart soar. genuinely a good ep!

let us gather to watch this tale!

we begin with a “previously on the x files”. i really hate that shot of mulder squished under that wire cage; it’s deeply unpleasant and i imagine so was the filming experience.

after that, we journey to a convalescent home in florida. now. the last time we went to a convalescent home, i have tried very purposefully for forget what went down. so my expectations here are low.

someone just waltzed in at night and is looking at the old people sleeping with a flashlight.... is this allowed? it probably shouldn't be. is she looking for someone in particular? 

she finds auntie janet and says it is time, he is waiting. now what does that mean?!?!

so she takes auntie janet out and there is some man that she’s in the car with?? he’s hooking auntie janet up to various chemicals. she says she’s tired of the pain and the doctor-y figure puts the green stuff into her. ah, i see what is going on here, as auntie janet hugs this woman and says she is her angel of mercy. 

so it looks like she died, but instead of just dying and that being it, there are oily slugs coming from her nose and mouth. which…. i mean, it’s better for them to come out in a controlled environment and after her passing, right? that seems ideal, all things considered. except for the fact that the oily slugs will now crawl into these people, so that’s a bummer.

HEY! the changed the text after the intro. “E PUR SI MUOVE” <- is that latin? hold on

i didn’t want to figure out what the whole phrase meant because that was part of the fun!! but in trying to figure out if “muove” was latin or italian or portuguese or something, i learned what the whole phrase meant and that it is significant for being uttered by galileo. darn! well, if i had to learn it before i wanted to, you shall too, i suppose. although i imagine if you read this blog, you’ve seen all this before. hmm.

we are in st. petersburg. FORMERLY LENINGRAD! but no longer at this point. someone is knocking at an old russian guy’s door. a young gentleman tells this old guy that “the cold war isn’t over” 

damn. still rings true in 2024. 

and also he gives the old guy an envelope. 

mulder is sleeping in a jail cell. he’s very tucked into that corner. it's adorable, in a certain way. someone is whispering to him. mystery other prisoner guy who can speak english said that he has been lying there for hours, and that the first time (referring to his alien injection) is “bad, very bad”

he calls this alien injection the “black cancer” that lives in the rock. this mystery man used to be a geologist! he was there when they found the fragments! woah... a rock guy... and look what they have done to him :(

okay, so this black cancer comes from the tunguska rock. got it. i am tracking the lore.

so at least hundreds of people have died here, and they seem to be searching for a cure to the black cancer after they inject it into their test subjects.

well! it is almost comforting that maybe both scully and mulder will die horrific early deaths, but at least together, right? because. the actual cancer that she probably has. and the weird creature in his veins now. they’ll have each other, i guess?

sighs. this is not providing me much comfort.

“i’m not gonna die. i have to live long enough to kill that man krycek” <- YAAAAAS i cheered!!!! his dogged determination has now been set to bloodlust mode!! hey, whatever keeps you alive!!!

mystery man sneaks mulder a shank he made over two weeks. that is a very dedicated thing to do, and even more profound to spend all that time and then give it to someone else. “it is wonderful- the persistence of life” damn…. bro has me thinking…. life really IS a gift, huh

back to the USA, where scully is tending to the mysteriously ill dr. sachs, who if you need a refresher, was the guy who was cutting into the mystery rock before he was mysteriously paralyzed. his blood looks a bit thickened (gag) and also there is something in there. EW!!! EW 

EW NASTY WORMS ATTACHED TO A GLAND IN HIM?!?!?!?!

no no no don’t care for that thank you!!!

in virginia, some people get on a bus, including an old man who is eating an apple. they are going to charlottesville. 

also there are some horses. the apple man snuck onto a farm with horses. IS IT GONNA BE THE WELL-GROOMED MAN’S FARM???

is it the russian guy??? well, he introduces himself as “vassily peskow” which seems to answer that question. 

(in googling this to make sure i spelled his name right, i saw that he has something to do with "the syndicate"- is that the official name of the group i have been referring to as the UN alien people for 3 seasons now?!)

he is speaking to the woman who we earlier saw give that stuff to auntie janet, but he has come to see her! her name is dr. charne-sayre, and while i know nothing about her besides her willingness to euthanize her aunt, she seems to have handled a strange old man showing up and touching her horses quite well, because personally i would be throwing hands.

OH!!! HE STARTS CHOKING HER?? the horses are neighing with fury. 

what… did i just see…

scully! at home!!! so pretty….

skinner is behind her!!! he is MAD! he has been trying to get ahold of her all day! well, she was busy??? cut a girl some slack???

he says she owes him some answers about this mystery pouch. he is maaaad! he has to testify tomorrow!! he harbored a known felon!!! ooo he’s gonna get in troubleeeee

she very calmly explains that the pouch has a rock with some sort of creature in it that she has been trying to figure out all day. she handled his anger quite, well all things considered. never forgetting to say “sir”.

but she doesn’t know where it was supposed to be going. HOWEVER…. skinner does! it was going to dr. charne-sayre!!! 

scully knows who this is!! because she is a nerd. said with heart eyes. dr. charne-sayre is a virologist, who has looked in on presidents and also is an authority on “variola viruses” which means something i’m sure, but it’s a mystery to me

OH! it means smallpox! she has been trying to get people to destroy the last remaining smallpox vials. 

(WAIT IS THAT A THING?? is humanity really keeping some smallpox in some bottles somewhere???? i need to look something up after this and the adjust my levels of panic for biowarfare accordingly.

GOOD NEWS! wikipedia says the last vials were finally destroyed in 2015! that feels like it took too long...

wait. just kidding. it highlighted an irrelevant part of the article. another page says they are still out there, the ones in atlanta and russia that scully refers to in the episode. i feel no relief after all.

the ones that WERE destroyed were 350+ vials of smallpox that had just been lost????? HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN???

damn. i need to go down a rabbit hole later that is going to teach me some unsettling things)

anyway, skinner breaks the news that dr. charne-sayre was killed, but blames it on a horse. and i saw what went down and it did not look like any hooves were involved, so idk how tf they came to that conclusion. a choking and hoof marks are not at all comparable??

back to da gulag. a guy kicks mulder and leads him out with a bunch of other men. i find myself wondering about all of the extras there that day, how the filming went. 

UH OH! krycek is up smoking with one of the bigwigs of the gulag!!!! what is he DOING??? the geologist prisoner who gave him the shank says mulder has one chance to kill him, and he pulls out his weapon. OMG HE’S RUNNING FOR IT!!! does he stand a chance?!?

that dude is absurdly fast bro. he gets two solid punches into krycek and steals a truck!!! where is he going!!!

horse vs truck race!!!! who will win??? i hope it’s the truck!!!

so he knocked krycek tf out and took him on the bed of the truck... that is hilarious

i hope all the other prisoners break out too :)

okay, the men on horses are shooting at mulder. krycek wakes up and is slamming the back of the truck. what i want to know is where mulder, who has a famously terrible sense of direction, is driving!!!

he’s trying to hit the brakes but it’s not really working!!! and krycek jumped off!!!! where does he think he’s gonna go 😭😭

no!!! mulder crashes the truck!!! ouch ouch ouch!!

well, instead of resolving that plot line, we jump to the well-groomed man (am i using his name right?) chatting with cancer man in the dark. cancer man bullies him for smoking, as if we don’t only know him as cigarette smoking man or cancer man, but well-groomed man is pissed at cancer man’s various failures!! and wouldn’t you be??

oh!! that person riding the horses- dr. charne-sayre- was well-groomed man’s personal physician! there’s some weird tension between these old men now that he needs the help of cancer man to figure out what went down

“were you sleeping with her?” csm asks, making us all uncomfortable. and well-groomed man doesn’t answer!!!!!!!! EW!!! nasty!!!! he put the mission at risk for his personal pleasure!

damn. hate when cancer man is right about things.

well, i guess they’re both flops at their job. that should unite them rather than pull them apart. 

cancer man asks well-groomed man (and that is definitely going to get confusing quick) to call off "the investigation", which he says he cannot do. but senator sorenson is an honorable man. do we believe him?

i do not. 

somehow, cancer man knows mulder was captured in tunguska and has escaped. i don’t know how this plays into their plan, but cancer man is smirking. suspicious... i hate his creepy smirk.

okay, back to russia. we see the truck that mulder crashed and a bunch of blood on the window, which are not auspicious signs. but no one is in there!!!! the men on horses are baffled!!!

krycek is in the woods, being surrounded by a bunch of people and speaking in russian, claiming to have escaped from the prison camp. they realize from his clothes he is lying about being a prisoner, but they believe that he was accused of spying and take him in?? i guess??

OMG!!! mulder was hiding under a ton of leaves while the men on horses looked for him!!! it was giving a real peeta in the 74th hunger games moment.

so, now we are where we started last episode, with scully swearing to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her god. and she is reading her prepared statement. people are passing notes as she does so. and then they are rude as hell and cut her off. 

skinner is watching all of this go down, and as she tears into the culture of lawlessness, he does look like he kinda wants to die. but i think she’s serving. 

OMG!!!! they’re taking her to jail!!!! she said idgaf i am NOT giving up mulder’s secrets and that is a REAL ASF FRIEND!!! she’s in jail in her kickass outfit and omggggg what a queen… crossing her arms as she stares out the window…. i love her so deeply 

back to russia, where some guy finds mulder under a ton of leaves, and yells at him for breaking his truck. sorry!! it was an accident. he didn’t mean it :(

the woman he is with is gonna tend to him though, because mulder has that sad puppy dog thing going on. 

she knows some english!!! woah!!! this is convenient for plot reasons and also fuels my determination to keep learning another language so i can be the cool side character that saves the day at least once.

she says that they kill everybody for “the test”, and that her husband makes deliveries, so they spare their lives. but now, no truck…

mulder says we need to get tf out of here, the smallpox scar is tracking you. she says there is an alternative, and gestures to her son with no arms. i do not think this is a good alternative. and the husband comes back in with a knife!!! are we gonna have some hand to hand combat…….

krycek is sleeping by a fire, but then a bunch of people come and get him. one of them has a heated knife!!! are we in amputation mode…

oh. he sure is screaming as that knife is going in… yes, it appears we are in amputation mode

scully is in jail, reading the works of dr. charne-sayre, because she is studious even behind bars!!!! i love that about her. highlighter in hand as she ponders. 

skinner comes to see her! “you holding up?” “i’ve got plenty to read” awwww :( skinner cares about her :( big old softie :( and she is gonna read her way through jail :( she’s just so :(

she clarifies that this is NOT just about mulder!!!! this idiotic commission is wasting time asking about mulder and not about the pouch, the murder, the rock, or anything ACTUALLY RELEVANT at all!!! 

“it is my experience that lawyers ask the wrong questions only when they don’t want the right answer” DAMN what kind of lawyers has she dealt with…? probably plenty in her FBI time. but still. she has seen things.

“it is my natural inclination to believe they are acting in the best interest of the truth” aww… she wants to assume the best of these obviously very shady men

“but i am not inclined to follow my own judgement in this case” <- she said y’all are so god awful not even my natural optimism can salvage this (and i love her for knowing her limits)

skinner makes a remark about following mulder’s judgement instead and i can’t tell if he was trying to be hurtful or not…

back to dr. sachs, dealing with his rock induced injury. NO! the russian guy vassily is here! with a needle!!! what does he need that for??? go away!! i like that rock scientist!!

he’s getting this orange fluid in a syringe and he sticks it into dr. sachs and BLEH i cannot look…………. but the slugs!!! the oil slugs!!!!! 

NO!!! he takes the rock and unplugs the machines dr. sachs was on!!! HE CAN’T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS 💔

cancer man is explaining that vassily was in the KGB… “how could this be? how could the russians know we were working on our own inoculation?” asks well-groomed man, “six of us knew!” 

an anti-alien vaccine! this could be useful,,, maybe? idk.

cancer man is tasked with finding vassily… but he says someone might save him the trouble

cut to scully back in front of the fancy congress slash senator slash corrupt government people…. she has had time to think about the question she was asked.

and she says she cannot answer! she keeps listing off things she can answer instead, but not about this!

OH! MULDER APPEARS!!! “answer the question miss scully!” (mulder voice) “what is the question?”

YEAHHHHH THAT’S MY GUY!!!

HER REACTION TO HIS VOICE… the little orchestral flourish… his beat up face… his stupid smirk. wait i have to rewatch this. LOOK AT HER FACE WHEN SHE SEES HIM!!!

she says that the death of the doctor was connected to the death of the man in skinner’s apartment, and dr. charne-sayre FOR SURE knew information about the virus. and while i am happy for her triumphant moment, skinner walks in and whispers something to her….

dr. sachs has died under suspicious circumstances!!

this is obviously very important, but in the background you can see mulder say something to skinner, and he reacts as if deeply annoyed. lmaoooo we are soooooo back!!

the bigwigs on the council go to recess, and the absolute MILLISECOND that gavel is slammed, these two nerds JUMP UP to see each other, it’s so cute oh my goshhhh it is for sure making my list of favorite moments this season

AWWW AND THEY HUG AND HE SAYS “good to put my arms around you” OHHHHH MY GODDDD OH MY GOOOOD THE WAY HE’S LOOKING AT HER (and the remark about still having both arms she obviously doesn’t understand yet!!!!)

(screaming into my pillow for a solid 30 seconds before composing myself)

skinner jumps in and says “some other time” when she asks how he got back LMAOOO he has had ENOUGH

scully says please skinner let us go to florida for 15 hours please 🙏 it should be quick but if it isn’t please stall for us please sir…. and he’s all “girl just go and be fast about it” (sternly)

okay! so why florida? because that is where one of dr. charne-sayre’s patients at a convalescent home died of a mysterious virus! yes, as we saw in the very beginning!!!!

NO!! vassily is here!!! can he just wander in?? is that allowed? why are people coming and going from this convalescent home…? is there not a sign in process…?

he’s going for the meds. he pockets some meds and replaces them with a decoy. 

“may we come in ma’am?” mulder asks, shoving his way in <- LMAOOOO god that gag gets me every single time 

so they need to look at the elderly, and scully reports that this dude she just walked up to is dead. and he sees another one with the slugs!!!

these people are test subjects, he says!!! and they have to deal this building right now!!

no!!! vassily was laying in a bed and heard all of this!!! what is this mischievous fellow up to???

mulder says all of this can be traced to one man. and scully…. oh my gosh, the side profile, my heart…… 

IS KRYCEK WORKING WITH VASSILY?

scully and mulder go to visit the leader of the militia they busted krycek with at the beginning of last episode. scully looks so good i’m actually going to gnaw my own arm off holy fuck. that blue trench coat and grey suit combo is lethal.

so this criminal is denying finding krycek in a missile silo, and said krycek came to him. looking for help to make “devices”, and talking about this black cancer developed by the soviets, and used in the gulf war. so how did he get out of the silo....

OH! mulder asks where the other “device” (bomb) ended up, and when the militia leader says “i ate it”, he punches this guy in the stomach and puts him in a headlock. and then he says some very out of pocket things i am not going to repeat, but the point is: krycek took the bomb and put it in a storage garage somewhere in terma, north dakota. ah! the name of this episode is finally understandable!

“scully, get on the phone and get the license numbers for any two-ton trucks stolen in north dakota in the last six months, then call canadian border authorities and have them stop any vehicle fitting that description” (said while gazing into her eyes)

(this line killed me for some reason and i can’t even explain it… just such an odd series of commands out of context!)

“someone used krycek, then krycek used us; someone who didn’t want that rock in american hands” ah. so this whole thing has been a set up. you see, i was too busy thinking thoughts like “i hope he gets out of the gulag” and also “man, i hope scully doesn’t go to jail” and “look at how they hugged!” to put that together. sometimes i am a simple viewer making no conclusions about the grander plot at hand! sometimes i am surface level! i am multi-faceted!

vassily is gonna put the rock back in the ground under the guise of fertilizer for his tomatoes 

WOAH!!! agents in a helicopter :0 they look so good….

mulder is trying to scream over the loud noise of the helicopter doing its thing, which i imagine had to be an awful time to film. scully wisely just nods her head instead of attempting to communicate with words.

haha his hair is all messed up from the helicopter… hehehehe…

so he’s looking in the truck for any sort of rocks or bombs or whatnot. he sees some pipes… he is forming conclusions…

scully disembarks from the helicopter, and her hair is all messed up too (my heart!) as she climbs over a fence to get into this refinery. one thing about these two is they are gonna climb some fences!

vassily sees this going down and hides…… mulder is reaching into the pipe…. trying to grab the hidden rock… he is covered in oil!!!!

and it blowed up!!!!!!! 

no!!!! scully sees the explosion,,, and vassily sneaks up behind her and puts her in a chokehold!!! he grabs her gun!!! he says he will kill her but he doesn’t want to? and that his work is done. 

damn, now she’s gotta get a new gun……

she’s RUNNING to mulder who is soaked in oil and has barely escaped the explosion. she is picking him up and then… cutscene to more testimony stuff.

GIRL IS HE OKAY???

i love when they save each other <3 i love when they have to pick each other up and drag each other to safety <3 i love the panicked screaming of the other’s name <3 i love the fast and furious assessment to see if the other is okay <3 i just love these things <3

scully has evidence to present: linking a number of deaths to a biotoxin brought onto US soil! and the man who delivered it also died! and that guy was the man who krycek pushed off skinner’s balcony!

“alex krycek, who is missing and possibly deceased” oh i know better than to believe his ass is dead

the council is whispering… 

they laugh at the idea of extraterrestrials, and mulder also comes to the stand… what is he gonna do…

“why is this so hard to believe?” he asks. hey i know you’ve had a rough go of it man, and there is literally an alien slug in your body, but she was doing so well…

oh! he’s going on and on about how obvious it is that extraterrestrial life forms exist!! and you need to understand this or else you are denying crucial evidence!!!

ah, i see now why the opening text. just as galileo spoke of the earth rotating around the sun but was scorned, so mulder speaks of aliens and is met with disdain. and yet, the earth continues to spin, and the aliens continue to be in his bloodstream.

“this is not why we are here today” “then why ARE we here today?” okay parallels i see you!!!

they recess… and cancer man stands up in the back……..

back to russia, where vassily is returning home, insisting he is retired to someone in his room.

OH! IT’S KRYCEK! WHO IS ADDRESSED AS “COMRAD KRYCEK” bro… he is congratulating vassily on a great job 

and omg… he’s got a prosthetic arm… they really sawed his arm off…

back at DC (home) the senator is reading files and passing them to cancer man, who is tossing them in a bin??? presumably to burn??

HUH! so much for an honorable man.

okay, so much happened here. let me go in order of which thoughts are loudest.

first of all… did they know this was gonna be what they did with krycek from the start? just asking because i want to know if “needs to be fluent in russian” was on the casting call for that role or if they sprung it on him later. because that would be wild.

krycek, working with the soviets… huh. interesting implications.

second. the alien!! there is alien oil slug in krycek AND mulder now!!!! what is that going to do to them? are they gonna turn into living flash bangs like that one lady did in that one episode?? is it gonna slowly kill him? will be and scully slowly die together? i can’t imagine such a horrible thing….

third. their reunion…. damn it, it was so sweet. the way they INSTANTLY got to their feet when the recess was declared… the way he wrapped his arms around her…. oh man. oh man. and the smiles… the smiles……..

so far, s4 has not really been my jam. but this episode was really good and has given me hope that soon we shall be cooking with gas, in terms of both very juicy plot advancement and special agent bonding moments. i mean, come on, lifting him out of that explosion while he was covered in oil??! i cannot get enough of that!!!

is he going to hide that he has an alien slug in him?? is he going to be that guy in the zombie movie who acts like he didn’t get bit?? or is he going to be honest and tell her?? will she try to find a cure? wait, does he even know what happened?? because he was knocked out when all of that went down…

and what about scully’s mystery illness!!!! is she going to be okay?? are they going to be terrified for each other??

okay, okay, one thing at a time.

so, there’s an alien virus in a rock that landed on earth during the tunguska event, and the americans were working on a vaccine to protect against it. but somehow the russians knew about it, and that is likely due to krycek, who was a double agent on like three counts. they killed the leading expert on the virus in order to prevent a vaccine from being developed, and have previously used the virus in biowarfare (so i guess gulf war syndrome is alien slugs in this universe?). the guy that krycek threw off of skinner’s apartment was the one who was meant to receive the rock containing aliens, but was killed, and said virus rock was intercepted by the russians, who are having a sort of cold war 2.0 moment. over alien slug virus. which, if exposed to, will eventually kill you; why it killed dr. sachs and not all of the other men who were at the gulag is a mystery. and to try and protect the americans against this virus, the leading expert, dr. charne-sayre was testing on the elderly. and cancer man wants to cover up all of the evidence which scully and mulder have presented linking all of the deaths to the rock. 

okay. i think i got most of the lore down.

i want to know what happens next!!! but i am no fool!! i know we will be given random monster of the week episodes which are also excellent but tell me nothing about the plot!!! and now that we’re dealing with alien slugs, i’m wondering, what about the actual little green men? where do they come in? is this a third type of alien? because we have the little green men we’ve seen glimpses of, sometimes mixed with human DNA; we’ve got the aliens that were clones from that species with the poison blood and can only be killed with the needle to the neck; and then these alien slugs. and also a few other random non-central to the plot alien life forms, like the ones in firewalker and ice.

where is the common thread?? how can they tie all of these up?? would tying all of these mysteries up even be satisfying?? or is it better to let some things be a mystery?? did chris carter have plans for all of this overarching stuff, or was he making it up as he went?

so many questions! but for me, basking in the warmth of their hug is my highlight 

[noemilivv]

I was waiting for an opening as I saw you had match ups available and would love to see who you'd put me with.

Preference for male characters from Hazbin Hotel

About me: You can call me Claire. I'm AFAB she/her, 5'3", panromantic demisexual. I'm Tim Burton pale, brown eyes, messy curly bob brown hair, glasses with glasses chains usually, chubby but strong, dress either romantic gothic feminine or butch cryptidcore, like no in between, never wear make up because sensory hell.

Some type of neurodivergent but not diagnosed specifically. I tend to know a little about a lot of things due to jumping from focus to focus. Queen of Dad jokes, rather blunt since I'm not subtle. Aside from English can speak Latin, some Gaelic, some Spanish, a little bit of Turkish/Arabic, Church Greek and Slavonic, and random phrases in Russian, German, and Italian. I'm ENFP, Ares cabin from PJO if that means anything.

I teach preschool, love children as they're so fun to be around and the possibilities they have ahead are wonderful. I also bake, sew, knit, read tons of books, collect rocks and other nature stuff, tend to the gardens, I sing in my choir, and like to listen to music. Not specific music genres that I care for, more vibes, but been into some Bauhaus lately, along with SJ Tucker and The Dead South.

My faith is important to me, I even am considering pursuing becoming a religious sister at a convent, like a nun.

I do love horror, romantic gothic poetry (Think Poe and the like), analog horror(DOAI, Mandela Catalogue), Dr. Who, bad b movies (think Redletter media level bad), animation in general, HB HH, stuff like that, I read everything and anything so long as the narrative is interesting or the subject is a hyperfixation of mine, such as Religions, Mythology, History relating to late Medieval to Elizabethan, textiles, fantasy, or speculative biology (like thought potato on youtube). I also do dress in character for the Renaissance Festival, people assume I work there as I have season passes for the last 5 years and attend all weekends from open to close.

I tend to be a sweet tooth, love any chocolate, baked goods with richness or chocolate flavors, drink lots of coffee, tea, sweet red wines, mead, rum based cocktails or dark malty beers if we're going alcohol, though I tend to be the driver if I'm going to party somewhere. My giving love language is touch and words, along with acts of service. My receiving love language is words, touch, and gift giving. I love to cook or make gifts for others, usually don't expect it in turn.

I'm loud, maternal, weirdly dark yet wholesome, and able to lift a toilet with my bare hands up two flights of stairs. I tend to talk either like a southern grandma or terminally online weirdo with random swears. When friends have a bad breakup I'm like do you want a hug or does someone have to die?

In relationships I can be very talkative, but also in a sense the less dominant partner. Like, I handle the day to day, but not great at organizing the dates, the stuff like that's more romantic. I'd hope my partner could handle that part. I'm also romantically easily flustered. Like squeaking and burning red in the face from genuine good flirting.

So hope you can find someone right for me, God Bless you dear.

hello claire!! i decided to pair your with…

Lucifer !!

First of, he loves your love of kids, and let’s be real, he probably has a love of kids as well, as much as Charlie is an adult, he would probably eagerly introduce you to her after finding out this tidbit of info

Honestly, to him, you give off very strong, emotional support wifey vibes and honestly he is all in for it haha

Lucifer doesn’t mind that you can be very talkative, infact, he enjoys it.

He tries to make it fairly easy when it comes to planning dates for you, so most of the time, you both just stay in

Also, Luci is definitely someone who gets flustered easily, so you both just end up giddy and smiley at eachothers shy little flirty comments and it’s the most heart warming thing

[brooklynislandgirl]

information

basics

full name: Elizabeth Irene Riley {{Birth-Certificate: Elikapeka Ailine Alohaekauneikahanuola'Ilikea'wahine Riley}}

nicknames / aliases: Beth, Apples, Konachino, Jelly Bean {{the nurse shark}}

height: 5 foot even

age: 27-35 {verse dependant}

spoken languages: English, Pidgin, French, Latin, Spanish, Basic/some: Russian, German, Greek, Japanese, Mandarin, Kikongo {Kituba}, Masalit

physical characteristics

hair color: deep chestnut/mahogany brown

eye color: green/honey brown {central heterochromia iridum}

skin tone: sand/olive with warm undertones { "deep autumn"}

body type: delicate/petite {ectomorphic/triangle}

dominant hand: left

posture: straight, graceful, poised

scars: The shark bite scar/muscle atrophy/shortened tendon {right leg}

tattoos: sea turtle with the Hawai'ian island chain on its shell, with a hibiscus {left hip} {eventually the tree of life as above/so below near the bottom of her neck/between her shoulder blades} She has three sub-dermal studs just inside the arch of her hip.

birthmarks: freckles around her chin, across her nose, sharp 'little' teeth

most noticeable features: Wide doe-eyes, 'fangy' smile, nose crinkles when she does so unguarded/genuinely.

childhood

place of birth: Pearl City/Honolulu, O'ahu, Hawai'i. {for Turn: Brooklyn, New York}

siblings: Andrew Riley, Jayden Morgan

parents: The Admiral, Iwalani Kahananui {Riley} Stern

adult life

occupation: ER Nurse/ER Doctor {verse dependant, might be NYPD or SHIELD agent} {for Turn: Wealthy Socialite}

current residence: Verse dependent {for Turn: Philidelphia, Boston, NYC} close friends: this is an entire blog roll roster of my beloved mutuals, so verse dependent? {For Turn: Ben and Samuel Tallmadge, Caleb Brewster, Anna Strong, John Simcoe, Malcolm Baker}

relationship status: Verse dependent. Beth doesn't so much date as she lurks, closely. Waiting for all parties involved to tire out and just move in.

children: Beth is incapable of having children, but loves everyone else's. {Turn: None...yet.}

criminal record: various juvenile charges for destruction of property, vandalism, and the like. All neatly sealed and never to be spoken of again.

vices: entirely too fond of a glass or six of wine in the 'evenings'. workaholic.

sex and romance

sexual orientation: demi-sexual {{I would say she leans towards heterosexual but the body isn't exactly a concern for her, so long as she likes/feels connected to the person}}

turn-ons: Intelligence, kindness, wittiness, passionate, idealism, honesty, empathy, caring for other people, the environment, animals.

turn-offs: Cruelty, abuse {physical/verbal/of power, etc}, lack of respect, refusal to accept boundaries, one night stands

love languages: physical touch, acts of service, quality time

relationship tendencies: Beth tends to be slightly oblivious when it comes to relationships. She is avidly keen in getting to know people, cannot help but to try and nurture them in what seem to be natural ways as much as she's able to. She doesn't experience sexual attraction until well after feeling bonded to someone. This can lead to many mixed signals. When it comes to love/sex/romance, Beth tends to be a little naive and extremely trusting,and that has always broken her heart in the past. Beth doesn't do one night stands, or casual hook-ups, though she doesn't judge others for them. Some people might consider her clingy.

miscellaneous

hobbies to pass time: surfing, dancing, knitting, reading, gardening, card games, chess. {Beth is amusingly aggressive when it comes to competitive games/sports}

mental illnesses: Beth lives with bipolar disorder, shows signs of childhood trauma, and tends toward fear of rejection/abandonment self confidence level: Beth has all the self esteem of a banana slug outside of a medical-treatment setting. ~*~ tagged by: my darling M @honorhearted tagging: Tell me about your muses!

[mokutone]

hi what do you think abt t4t kakayama (it's canon to me tbh)

:) hi ty for the question. i will do two sweet pictures of them being intimate and then under the cut there's going to be a longer very unsweet and more technical response

so i'm usually not a very shippy person! but that said i am also on the record as an occasional kakayama + kakayamagai enjoyer

i do hc them both as trans and in different ways w/ different experiences of transition and identity! i have no interest in proving my view as canon, but i do regard my reading of the text (text here including the anime) as a valid interpretation of yamato's experience of identity

yamato, for example, imo, doesnt have any real lived experience of being raised as a child of any gender. he was an experimental subject, and then he was Danzō's weapon/vessel for the mokuton, and then he was in anbu.

in a fun little word game which should not be taken seriously: it'd almost be more fitting to describe him as "adgender" rather than "transgender" since the prefix "trans" implies moving across where the prefix "cis" means to stand still, but the prefix "ad" means "to move towards" and i headcanon him as somebody who was degendered as a child, not in a cool nonbinary way, but instead in a dehumanizing, objectifying way, so his experience of creating his identity and his gender along with it is one of moving toward the concept of gender this word doesn't and wont exist, but bc of the way english works it would probably be simplified to be spelled precisely the same as "agender" in the same way that "aggression" came from latin "aggredi" which came from "ad" (meaning to/toward) and and latin "gradus" (meaning step) (essentially the combination means "to step to" [in a threatening manner]) the only diferences is where agender (meaning no gender) is pronounced ay-gender, the agender that comes from adgender would be prounounced more like "uhgender" in the same way that agressive isnt pronounced like "ay-gressive" but instead like "uhgressive"

and then...as for kakashi? i just decided on vibes. i didn't think hard about it.

i guess i should also say that, while i draw kakayama very infrequently, when i do draw it i usually try to be very apparent about the transness in the artwork if i can? especially if i'm drawing anything more intimate than a peck on the cheek. it's no secret that shipping is often times the most energized part of fandom, and i kind of don't want to produce romantic or sexual artwork which will be enjoyed by people who don't think trans people can be attractive? or who find that trans headcanons make a character uninteresting to them? or worse, "ruin" a depiction of a character to them?

often i think about in terms of. IF there are people that follow me that love my work (usually) and think that kakashi or yamato are hot (usually) and love kakayama (usually) but get frustrated or even uncomfortable out when i draw them as explicitly trans? then i'm drawing all intimate artwork of them as explicitly trans.

it's a little like...nobody gets to love my work if transgender characters are a turnoff for them. that's the bar for entry, is the way i think of it, but really its more like putting onions in a dish. if you want to eat the dish you have to eat the onions. if you don't want to eat the onions, don't eat the dish. all the meals i make contain onions. i'll never compromise on my intention to put onions in every dish i make. that's my ninja way, as the kids say.

especially in the climate we're in right now.

i don't know. i have a lot of feelings about how most fandoms tend to view trans men, especially in terms of romantic and sexual relationships. I'm doing a bad job of expressing the depth of how much seeing how fandom treats trans male identity and transmasculine bodies impacts the way that i draw + write kakayama, but genuinely it's something i think about every single time i create content about them.

[sweetpascal]

i'm all for receiving criticism about my writing. but there's a fine line between being genuine about it and being completely cruel.

i received a comment on beneath the armor from someone, and she started off by saying, "this is a good fic but..." and then completely criticized me very rudely.

i know i'm not educated when it comes to the roman ages and how they spoke. i understand that using the old english language in my writing to replace the latin language romans used is historically inaccurate. when it comes to writing something in a different time period, i want my readers to feel immersed as if they're in that time period. if that means using a different writing language for my readers to understand, then so be it. that's what screenwriters do so that the audience can understand.

don't continue reading if you know right off the bat that it's not for you. it's really that simple instead of making a rude comment because articulate, detailed writing is something you don't like to read.

i know i'm most likely being sensitive about this, but i have every right to feel sensitive. i take my work extremely seriously. i put my entire body, mind, heart, and soul into it. my writing has matured and improved over the years. the temporary hurt i feel at the moment will go away. it just sucks people feel the need to open their mouths and complain instead of, like i said before, not continuing to read something that they don't like.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

A Guide to Language Domming, Pt. I

Language Play, Qu'est-ce Que c'est?

Republished for your reading pleasure. And to all who attended my Language Play 101 Class at CAP '23- thank you!!!

What is language play?

Language domming, or language play, is a highly immersive activity where a little or sub experiences speech and media exclusively in a foreign language they either don’t know and at all or have very little knowledge of. For the purposes of most of this guide, I’ll be focusing specifically on language play in an AB/DLs or ageplay context, but it is possible to work into some other kinks - I’ll get to that near the end. 

The appeal, especially when you’re dealing with ABs and ageplayers, is pretty clear. Rather than your little having to pretend they’re too little to understand what all the grown-ups are saying, well, they genuinely won’t understand what all the grown-ups are saying. They won’t be able to grasp most of the things you’re saying to them. They won’t be able to read along with storybooks - they’ll just have to look at the pictures and use their imaginations. They’ll consume simple cartoons the way a young toddler would. And all of this, if presented with the right amount of love and care, can make your little feel very, very little. 

I do want to make it clear here that I didn’t invent this idea. A number of bigs, CGs, and doms I’ve spoken to have used native tongues or foreign picture books to make their littles feel little. It’s even come up in some fantasy writing, where an international setting, or even an extraterrestrial one, leaves a little with a babyish inability to communicate. But I haven’t seen it formally spoken about much, so I figured I would share this guide with you all.      

So how does it work?

Language play sessions normally last a few hours, but if you’re feeling adventurous (and very well prepared) you can stretch it for a day or more. The idea is to completely immerse your little in the target language for as long as you’re playing. Speak to them only in that language. Show them cartoons in that language. Read them stories for bedtime and naptime in that language. The more activities you have to help immerse them - children’s board games and card games, toys that say foreign phrases, even alphabet blocks for non-Latin languages - the more wonderful possibilities there are. 

When playing, your little may try to say things to you in English (or whatever you usually speak), and there are a few ways to handle this. You can enforce that they can’t, with spankings and other punishments, or just with a wag of the finger and a reminder of ‘non, non, en français, s'il vous plaît’ or the equivalent. Alternatively, you can just pretend not to understand them, looking quizzical and bemused (but do listen to what they’re saying, in case it’s important). In either case, as long as you don’t break into English yourself, your little will start to get used to it, and will lean more on non-verbal communication and whatever simple words or phrases they’re able to pick up (and often butcher in the cutest possible way). 

Of course, your little one not being able to talk means there’s a whole lot more they’re not going to be able to do for themselves. You’re going to have to choose their activities, so be sure to plan ahead and know your little’s likes well. You’re going to have to give some diaper checks without asking - well, you can ask, but it’s not like they’ll know that you did. You’ll also be the one figuring out the menu, and you may want to feed your little directly to add to the ageplay immersion. 

Because this is one of the more intense ageplay activities, and because communication during play can be difficult, preparation and communication beforehand is key. Learn your little’s likes and limits, make sure to put away any grown-up distractions (work phones, etc.) and set time aside firmly, and have cues in place to use as safewords (and STOP IMMEDIATELY if you see them). Oh, and when you’re done, be sure to have a gentle, warm, snuggle and talk through the experience - your little is going to have a lot they want to tell you, and you might have quite a bit to share as well. 

What if I’m not fluent in a foreign language? Can I play too?

YES! Believe it or not, you don’t have to be native or fluent in your target language to use it for a wonderful, immersive play experience. In Part II of this guide, I’m going to walk through some key words and phrases to focus on, so that you can be ready to immerse your little with just a few weeks of practice, a bit of strategic Googling, and a whole lotta love. 

Pt. II Can Be Found Here

[crimeronan]

On the "Empress Luz acting scary with The Blights snippet" for some reason In my head as I was reading it, part of me was imagining Luz's accent sounding more like Belos when she's being intimidating and it's just now rattling around inside my head and won't leave.

IDK how malleable accents are, (I moved from the UK to Australia when I was like, 9 and I still sound painfully english) and at what stage these things naturally develop. But unless Belos was actively 'correcting' how she spoke... (the thought of which is its own potential bag of horror ) I imagine her normal speaking voice still being broadly as it was in canon.

Mostly because the thought hadn't occurred to me when reading most of the au and Hunter sounds just as american as the rest of of the isles, (sans Terra Snapdragon) but he wasn't really Belos' favorite now was he and probably got enough early instruction from non-Belos people to shape how he spoke. So I imagine aside from maybe the odd weirdly British pronunciation on some terms (ie Lef-tenant v Lou-tenant when referring to the rank, minor things like that, maybe the odd vowel here and there) they just sound like they did in canon.

But now here's the thought I can't shake. When Luz is being authoritative, and especially when she's using fear like in that snippet, as a tool Belos taught her how to use, even as she's trying her best to use it to be better than he was, she can't help but subconsciously sound like him. Application of force, threatening with force of law like that isn't in her nature, but she's been taught it by Belos and can do it well even if in almost all cases she hates the thought of it now, something so associated with him but also an indispensable part of "being The Empress".

Specifically in that scene I can imagine her normal speaking voice coming through for a moment as she talks about how biased she is and how much she hates The Blight all that anger is completely her own, genuine and honest, there is nothing of Belos in it...

Then her voice goes right back to BBC english when she mentions how that bias is legally irrelevant and she's right back into threatening absolute monarch mode.

you know what?? this is honestly spot-on for how i heard her in my head while i was writing it. the accent was definitely still american but there's a chipper, professional Icy Cheerleader quality to it that's all belos. luz having adopted his precise cadence and genial demeanor because it's the most effective way she knows how to be scary... Yeah That's The Stuff

and tbh it's entirely possible for her accent to slip into something more british. i know that i unconsciously mirror people's accents in conversation & am constantly worried that when i'm with my southern friends or irish friends or latine friends that they're gonna think i'm making fun of them when it's like. no i Promise this is just how i talk. probably another autism thing but i don't actually know if accent mirroring IS a common thing so.... mysteries!

regardless.... i can bestow a bit of this upon luz. between drawing on her memories of belos AND matching odalia's Smarmy Corporate Smugness, i think there's Easily some british in there. if hunter is in the room, he's definitely running mental numbers on the likelihood that luz will suddenly hear herself & Freeze Completely.

[zwritestuff]

it's just casual (it's pathetic)

Scarlet and Yvie aren’t a thing, they hook up every now and then, and go for late night fast food at whatever chain is open on the rare occasion they go home at the same time and don’t feel like hooking up, and occasionally go to cheap bars to drink cheap drinks and Yvie will draw circles on the back of Scarlet’s hands while talking about her childhood and teenage years, and Scarlet sometimes will send her TikToks that remind her of her, and Sugar and Spice snicker and scurry away when Yvie comes near her during work hours—but they’re not, like, a thing. It’s just casual. (It’s pathetic). or: Scarlet's actions blow up in her face, Yvie is a stone cold bitch for all she knows, and neither knows what "communication" means. (ao3)

a/n: do people still post fics directly on tumblr? anyway.

Word count: 5513

“What do you think about our new bartender?” Sugar and Spice ask, doing that weird synchronization thing that freaks Scarlet out and makes her nearly jump out of her skin.

Scarlet is currently leaning against the far corner in the main room, where Widow put an inside plant some time ago that hides Scarlet just fine. She looks up from her phone screen and cranes her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the new hire, but that proves difficult since she’s facing the other way talking to the other bartender, Kameron. The only thing Scarlet can make out are the red braids and her white t-shirt.

“Dunno, haven’t met her yet.” She shrugs, going back to reading the PDF of the textbook she put off for the past few weeks.

“She’s, like, hot,” Sugar says, with that ditzy giggle Scarlet still can’t quite figure out if it’s fake or genuine. “I’m positive she was looking at my tits when we went to introduce ourselves.”

“Would it kill you to not fuck any more of the bartenders?” Scarlet replies, finally putting her phone away. “What, do you have, like, a bingo or something, Sugarella?”

The twins cackle, more so Spice, who receives a swat on the arm by Sugar. Their banter is cut short when they receive a glare from Widow who’s passing by, checking everything is running smoothly, and the twins quickly scurry away to the kitchen while Scarlet stays put in her place, pretending to fix her uniform.

Widow fixes her a stare that means get up and do your job and Scarlet immediately emerges from behind the plants she’d been hiding in. 

It’s not a busy day, not at all, but Scarlet has an exam tomorrow and this textbook reads more like anything other than English. It also doesn’t help that she’s not up to date with the texts, but whatever.

She goes around taking and delivering orders, chatting with the twins and the rest of the staff every now and then, and when no one’s listening she recites latin declinations under her breath while the mayhem of the restaurant roars around her.

She’s been working for Widow for a little more than a year now, since these are her final years of uni and her classes are far less now that graduation is on the horizon. Scarlet never thought about working in the service industry before, but she needed a job and this was the only place that called her back.

It’s… Nice. As nice as a restaurant with a blatant clique of co-workers slash friends can be. There’s this old group of waitresses that go all the way back to when Widow owned a restaurant in a different side of the city, it feels High School-y, in a way. They’re so tight knit they don’t really make space for new people, or at least they never made any space for Scarlet. 

Whatever, at least the twins like her.

“Good evening, ladies, I’ll be your server tonight, what can I—”

“Oh my god, bitches, you’re here!” 

When Jackie shoves Scarlet off with all the force her body can manage, it takes all of Scarlet’s willpower to not grab Jackie by her hair and drag her around.

Out of nowhere, all of the old waitresses gather around the table Scarlet was about to serve and their overlapping voices make for a very annoying scenario. Soon Widow is marching up to them, and Scarlet hopes, for a brief second, that they’ll get an earful about proper workplace behavior, but much to her disappointment she joins them in the chaos.

It takes her a couple of seconds to guess the pair of women were part of the original waitressing staff and that the blonde doesn’t just have a few pounds on her, she’s pregnant.

The moment Jackie and the rest start sobbing is the moment Scarlet turns on her heels and gives herself a cigarette break.

“Fucking absurd,” Scarlet mutters, kicking open the back-alley door with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. “If she weren’t Widow’s favorite, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

“Jesus fucking yellow penguins!” Scarlet exclaims, turning around to look at the stranger. When her heart stops pounding against her chest like it wants to come out of it, she recognizes the red braids. Oh, yeah. The new bartender.

“So? What would you do if ‘she’ weren’t the boss’ favorite?” The newbie prompts, a cigarette dangling from her lips, like a damn bad boy from the 60s movies where all the bad boys have leather jackets and pounds of gel on their hair.

“Like I’d tell you,” Scarlet answers, fetching her cigarettes and lighter from the ground. “Who’s to say you’re not a snitch?”

“Do I look like a snitch?”

“You look like a lot of things,” Scarlet retorts, eyeing her up and down.

She’s hot, she has to admit that. She’s taller than her, just a little bit, her arms are leaner, and she’s rather thin. Her arms are covered in tattoos, and if Scarlet forces her eyesight a little bit, she can make out finger tattoos.

“Is it a requirement to get tattoos to be a bartender?” Scarlet blurts out, fixated on making out what her finger tattoos say.

She flexes her fingers, looking intently at Scarlet. “No, but it helps with tips.”

“I suppose so.” Scarlet tries to light up her cigarette, then realizes her lighter ran out. “Got a light?” 

The bartender holds out a vintage lighter, one that makes Scarlet whistle in appreciation, and leans closer with her cigarette trapped between her lips while the hot newbie lights it.

Once she gives it a first drag, she says, “‘M Scarlet, by the way.”

“Yvie,” she merely says.

“Welcome to the family, Yvie,” she says, holding up the cigarette like one holds a champagne flute to make a toast. Yvie chuckles, then imitates her.

“My pleasure, Scarlet.”

***

“Yveeeeees, I need a gin tonic, a virgin daiquiri and a mojito,” Scarlet drawls, handing Yvie the order.

“This is the fifth time you’ve come here during your shift,” Yvie points out. “What, are you pushing cocktails onto your customers so you can come see me?” She flirts like it’s her second nature, and Scarlet rolls her eyes and sighs in an exaggerated way.

“Oh, yeah, like I’d want to come see your annoying face.” Scarlet waves her off, placing her tray under her arm and walking away from the bar, with Yvie’s laugh echoing behind her.

She’s definitely pushing cocktails onto her customers. Instead of suggesting one of the many expensive, fancy wines they have in store, she’s suggesting cocktails under the premise that, Well, it’s Friday! Why not have some fun? It helps that the cocktails are much, much cheaper than the bottles of wine they sell. 

Scarlet knows it’s a little pathetic, high school-y even, the way she wants to find any possible excuse to perch herself against Yvie’s bar, trying to find the perfect angle that makes her hot enough in her hideous waitressing uniform, pulling down her cleavage just a little bit so Yvie has a good look of the beauty mark on her left breast.

It’s not a sin to want to fuck the very hot, very lesbian new bartender that everyone else has their eyes on—not in Scarlet’s mind, at least.

Sugar and Spice caught on to this pretty early, when they saw her one time trying to fix her stupid bun falling apart before approaching the bar. 

“Since when do you care about your looks while you’re on your shift?” Spice pointed out with a giggle.

Scarlet didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Don’t you have tables to attend? Why are you always up my ass?”

The twins held up their hands in mock surrender at the same time, and the following times they interacted with Yvie, Sugar didn’t try to hit on her. Scarlet couldn’t say why she was so relieved that Sugar refrained from going after Yvie, but she thanked her anyway during one of their breaks.

So whatever, now she tries a little extra to look put together on the nights she’s working with Yvie, playing up the annoyance façade, sizing her. Bartenders are flirty by nature, and she’s not planning on making a fool out of herself by making a move based on flimsy evidence.

“Scarlet, Blair called in sick,” Jackie tells her the moment she steps foot into the kitchen. “Do you think you can cover for her tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s her turn to close, no?” She mutters, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Jackie nods. “Well, fine, yeah I’ll do it. Put me down for it. I need the money.”

Jackie smiles, pleased. She’s been an assistant manager for a month and she brings that iPad everywhere she goes, it’s like it’s an extension of herself nowadays; her and that iPad run this place like the navy. Nothing is ever out of place, out of time. Sometimes she wonders if she was always this methodical, if she was more laid back when the restaurant was still a small thing hidden among skyscrapers.

Scarlet goes to ask Dusty for some fries, when Jackie speaks again. “Oh! You’re closing with Yvie tomorrow.”

A cheshire cat-like smile blooms on Scarlet’s face.

***

She looks mad, positively crazy, she’s sure of that: here she is, at 1 A.M on a Sunday, sweeping floors and humming tunes like a Disney princess. The twins weren’t working this shift today, and thank fucking god for that, she doesn’t need them nagging her more than they do.

The majority of the girls working the Saturday night shift, including Blair, are part of the cliqué Scarlet will never be part of, and although they didn’t even attempt to make conversation with her during the beginning hours, Scarlet couldn’t care less.

She’s going to fuck Yvie. She doesn’t care if it’s on one of the tables, on the bar, or in the refrigerator but she’s gonna do it. It’s been five months since Yvie started working here, and now she finally has her golden opportunity. Tonight she’s a woman on a mission, and nothing can deter her.

Once the waitresses start filing out, saying goodbyes in general and never just towards Scarlet in particular, excitement starts to bubble up in her stomach. It’s like she’s back in High School all over again and she plotted to be alone with her crush at one of the many house parties she has no recollection of, the only thing still within her memory reach being hot lips against hers.

She’s just sitting at the hostess chair, swinging her legs back and forth, with child-like excitement. Yvie is finishing at the bar, doing whatever she’s supposed to be doing, and she’s waiting for her. Her plan is simple: unbutton the first button of her blouse, approach Yvie, say something seductive, gauge her reaction and go for the kiss.

It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s worked all the time for her.

“Are you all done here?” Yvie asks, her footsteps being the only noise left—for now.

“Yup,” she replies, “You? All done at the bar?” Scarlet straightens her spine, indubitably making her tits stand out. Yvie’s eyes wander down there for a brief second, but they go back to her face. Step one, done.

“Uhm, oh, yeah, all done. You?” She says dumbly.

“You already asked me that, silly,” she laughs in that sultry southern way that’s known for making women fall to her feet. “What, do I make you nervous, Yves?” Scarlet throws her hair back, uncovering her neck.

Yvie gulps, now unabashedly giving her a once-over. “Not the word I’d use.”

“Oh? What word would you use, then?”

It happens in a flash: Yvie ducks down, captures her lips in a kiss, and it’s not in the sweet, gentle way of the romance movies Scarlet watches until her retinas burn. It’s anything but; it makes her insides churn with lust and that’s way more fun.

They don’t fuck inside the restaurant, but in Yvie’s car. Yvie’s tiny car barely manages to contain both of their tall bodies; maneuvering themselves to be in a position where both are comfortable goes exactly how Scarlet thinks Circus De Soleil rehearses go.

Scarlet’s toes are touching the roof of Yvie’s car and she’s pretty sure she’s going to get a cramp, but Yvie’s tongue is licking at her folds and, really, her brain can’t register much else right now.

“You’re beautiful,” Scarlet says, sincere, looking at her through half-lidded eyes.

Yvie smirks, with her fingers still inside her, and a thought rattles in Scarlet’s mind about liking the way Yvie smiles just for her, but that thought goes out the window the moment her orgasm starts to build up in her stomach.

***

“We should close together more often,” Yvie says, from the driver’s seat, while Scarlet is putting her clothes back on.

“We’re a great closing team,” she replies, putting on her blouse and then realizing—“Shit, I can’t find my bra.”

“Just leave it, I’ll find it and give it back to you.”

“You better! It’s a love & lemons one, those are expensive.”

“Awh, you wore your expensive bra to work? I’m flattered,” Yvie jokes, winking at her through the rear view mirror.

Scarlet doesn’t dignify the implications with an answer.

***

She blurts it out to Sugar that she fucked Yvie the other night, and Sugar tells Spice, who tells Brianna, who tells Crystal, and that is how she gets pulled into the cleaning supplies closet by Heidi during the Wednesday lunch shift.

“Scarlet, didn’t you know?” Heidi starts, as if Scarlet has any clue what this is about.

“Know about what?”

“Yvie is Crystal’s ex,” she says, like it’s common knowledge.

“Okay. And?” It’s not like Crystal is single and pining for her ex; she’s engaged to some blonde seamstress called Gigi who used to work for Widow four years ago, she has her own clothing store now, she reckons. Pretty sweet catch, if Scarlet says so herself.

Heidi seems caught off guard by Scarlet’s indifference.

“Well, friends exes are usually off limits—”

“Crystal is not my friend,” she points out, because she isn’t.

“Yvie’s never serious about anyone,” she says this time. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up. She only sleeps around.”

“God, we fucked once! It’s not like I want to marry her,” Scarlet groans. “None of you ever considered me a friend, why do you suddenly care? I didn’t even know she’s her ex, because, again, she and all of you are not my friends.”

Heidi seems positively mortified, but they both know Scarlet is right. So she simply apologizes—Scarlet isn’t sure if she’s apologizing for casting her aside or whatever this intervention was—and they go on about their lives.

“Hey, hot stuff!” The twins say in sync, when they run into Scarlet just moments later. “We just wanna remind you of our birthday party, it’s three weeks from now down at our parents’ house!”

“Our tiny flat would never be able to hold in so many guests,” Sugar comments, handing her the invitation.

“Yeah, good thing mom and dad are leaving that weekend.” Spice winks, and soon they’re off to do whatever it is they do when they’re not pestering Scarlet.

Scarlet inspects the envelope; for a pair of girls who are obsessed with social media, handing out paper invitations seems like a paradox, and then she remembers they’re also obsessed with Y2K, so, whatever, it figures. 

The sparkly pink envelope with all types of stickers manually placed on it reminds Scarlet of when letters were still a thing and she would spend her lunch money sending letters to her friends who lived just some neighborhoods away, just for the thrill of it. When life was good and easy, and she didn’t have a bartender taller and hotter than her watching her every move from her very empty, very lonely bar.

“Hey, Jackie, this place is dead,” Scarlet comments when she runs into Jackie in the kitchen. “Can I leave early? I don’t think you’ll need me.”

Jackie looks at her, then at her iPad, then she chews on her lower lip and agrees. “Just do your side work before you clock out.”

Scarlet goes to take her things from the little storage room they keep for the staff’s personal belongings, and lingers there for a bit when she hears a pair of footsteps behind her.

“Hey, Starlet! You’re leaving early?” Kameron’s voice asks. Scarlet turns around, an attempt at a relaxed smile on her face and sees Kameron and Yvie on their way outside, they're probably going on a smoke break. Yvie is eye-ing her up and down, with her hands stashed in her pockets.

“Yup. It’s pretty dead here, so Jackie let me go already. I’m clocking out before that changes. See ya!” She makes her exit with her heart beating in her ears, her face getting as red as her hair. The high-pitched tone with which she spoke makes her insides churn with shame. God, Yvie must think I’m pathetic.

She stations herself outside of the restaurant, lightning up a cigarette to calm down her trembling body. It’s summer now, and the humidity makes her feel so gross and sticky she actively hates herself when she lights up the cigarette and makes herself sweat a little more.

I’ll quit it when I want to, she told herself some years ago, but here she is.

She’s about to start walking to her bus stop when she hears the restaurant’s door ring, and a distinct pair of footsteps she’s come to recognize like one recognizes the sound of birds in the morning.

“Hey, ‘Starlet’,” Yvie says, nonchalantly, “need a ride?”

Scarlet turns around, ready to say no because Yvie is giving her that lust-filled look that promises that her ankles will end up on her shoulders, and she really really can’t, because it was a one off time to quench her thirst and now that’s all done.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, however, thinking with her imaginary dick rather than with her brain.

Yvie holds out the car door for her, like a gentleman, and she sits with her legs pressed tightly when she looks through the rear view mirror and sees her lacy pink bra resting on the backseat.

It’s obvious and redundant to say Yvie drives them to her own place instead of dropping Scarlet off, and that she can’t quite stomach it when Yvie calls her gorgeous when she’s between her legs and moments later tells her they should keep this casual.

***

Scarlet feels stupid, completely and irrevocably pathetic.

Here she is, being eaten out on her friends parents’ bed by a pretty woman on a house party, a house party that’s supposed to be kept a secret because the twins didn’t have permission to throw it in the first place, and the secrets of the universe are being revealed to her as said pretty woman keeps looking at her like she’s some sort of prey.

“God, you’re so pretty when you’re needy for me like that,” Yvie says, coming up to kiss her. Scarlet tastes herself on her lips, and gives a low whine.

Part of why she feels so pathetic is down on the first floor of the house, probably sitting all angry in the living room couches, looking like a cheap replica of Scarlet, most likely complaining to her friends about Scarlet, not discarding just yet searching for another body to make her company tonight.

Yvie is a gorgeous woman, Scarlet knows that; she attracts attention wherever she goes, so naturally there was someone else interested in her at the party. Scarlet doesn’t know Irene Dubois personally, she’s a friend of the twins and they’ve gone clubbing as a group once or twice before, but she’s not her friend (Scarlet thinks the way she looks so much like her is a little freaky, so she keeps her distance).

Irene was flirting very openly with Yvie, who, although not as enthusiastic, was flirting back. 

Scarlet and Yvie aren’t a thing, they hook up every now and then, and go for late night fast food at whatever chain is open on the rare occasion they go home at the same time and don’t feel like hooking up, and occasionally go to cheap bars to drink cheap drinks and Yvie will draw circles on the back of Scarlet’s hands while talking about her childhood and teenage years, and Scarlet sometimes will send her TikToks that remind her of her, and Sugar and Spice snicker and scurry away when Yvie comes near her during work hours—but they’re not, like, a thing. It’s just casual.

(It’s pathetic).

So Scarlet couldn’t really go up to Yvie, intimidate Irene and very subtly tell her to fuck off, drag Yvie up towards an empty room and slip out of her dress before Yvie had fully closed the door behind them, because she’s twenty-fucking-five and not a petty high school girl falling in love with the girl she sometimes fucks.

No, she couldn’t. So she didn’t.

Irene finished her drink, Yvie went to get more vodka from the kitchen, and Scarlet just so happened to drop her cup, so she also made a beeline for the kitchen. She batted her eyelashes, said nothing about the other redhead staring at Yvie across the room, and it took Yvie all of five seconds to ask her to “go to the bathroom with her”.

The pathetic satisfaction she felt upon seeing Irene stare daggers at her as Yvie took her hand and led her up the stairs made her feel like she’s sixteen all over again, petty and wild and stupid.

Scarlet redresses herself with Yvie’s help, and when her hands linger on her waist just for a moment longer, she knows this, whatever she has going on with Yvie, is bound to hurt her.

***

“Doesn’t it bother you that your ex works in the same restaurant as you?” Scarlet blurts out, while she’s laying on Yvie’s sheets.

Yvie’s perched by the room’s window, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, smoking. “Who, Crystal? No, she’s chill. We broke up a long time ago.”

“Like how long?”

“Uhm, I was still an art major, so…” She looks up to the ceiling. “Like, six, seven years ago?”

Scarlet sputters, turning to face her instead of looking at the ceiling cracks.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Why?”

Scarlet opens her mouth, then closes it again. Would it bother Yvie if she knew half the restaurant knows about whatever is going on between them? 

“Just curious. Do you think she might have unresolved feelings from that?”

Yvie scoffs. “I would hope not, isn’t she getting married in two months?” Scarlet nods, remembering the way Crystal reluctantly looked at her when handing her the wedding invitation a week ago. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

Scarlet thinks back to the night where Heidi warned her that Yvie just sleeps around, never looking for anything serious, some three months ago in July. Thinks of the burning ache in her heart when Yvie reminds her they’re just hooking up, the self-pity she wallows in every time she watches romcoms on Sundays and yearns to go on stupid museum and park dates with Yvie and getting to call her her girlfriend.

“Curiosity,” she says instead.

Yvie hums, acknowledging her answer and goes back to smoking. In the silence of the night, tangled in Yvie’s sheets, Scarlet wonders if Yvie thinks about them as much as she does. If she also yearns for something they’re not, or if she’s content enough with their arrangement, not sparing another thought towards her as soon as she’s out of the door.

The thought makes her feel like throwing up, so she silently gets up and starts rummaging for her clothes among the pile.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Yvie asks out of the blue.

“Next Saturday?” Scarlet pretends to think about it, knowing damn well she has a hot date with her couch and a new K-Drama she got hooked on. “Not much, why?”

“My mom invited me for brunch. I love her, but I don’t think I can stand her for hours alone, my sister moved across the country and—”

“What are you asking me, exactly? To go to brunch with you and your mom?”

“Well, yeah.”

Scarlet pauses, at a loss for words. There’s many things she wants to say, like, does she know who I am? Who am I to her? A daughter-in-law, friend of her daughter? What am I to you that you’re asking me this?

But Scarlet’s dignity flew out the window some months ago, so she simply nods and says, “Sure, text me the time and place.”

***

Scarlet thinks, honest to god, that the whole brunch ordeal was a fever dream.

She expected to meet some sort of wasp-y woman, uptight and slightly homophobic by the way Yvie spoke about her mother. She met, instead, a normal, fun, laid back woman in her sixties with nothing out of the usual about her. Yvie’s mom was just a normal suburban housewife who loves her daughter very much and tries to keep an open mind with what she’s doing with her life.

And she loved Scarlet, too. For some reason, Yvie’s mom found her so fascinating, she wouldn’t stop asking her questions about her, her life, what she’s studying in uni and her two moms back home in Kansas. She ordered mimosa after mimosa for the pair of them, at times forgetting her own daughter was sitting just across her.

It was so lovely, and so, so painful.

Scarlet is obviously girlfriend material; they get along well, Yvie’s mother likes her, and the sex is great. There’s no reason for Yvie to cave in and ask her to forget about the “casual” bullshit, because they both know there’s nothing casual about going on late night car rides, with Yvie’s index tracing the letters m-i-n-e on her thigh, talking about their hopes and dreams for the future, letting Scarlet babble excitedly about her independent research projects for school, pretending she doesn’t notice when Yvie sketches her in one of the many sketchbooks she has laying around, in sneaking to the back alley to make out during dead shifts, in spending days off together somewhere far away from the city.

She doesn’t know what else has to happen for Yvie to change her mind and just ask her to be official, be serious about where they’re going together.

So, the next logical reason why Yvie doesn’t want anything serious, is that she doesn’t like her like that, doesn’t want to commit to her and have the quiet, domestic Sundays and brunch with the in-laws with her. It hurts more than it should.

“Take me home,” Scarlet says when they’re in the car, drunk on mimosas and feverish with yearning.

“Wanna make a stop at my place?” Yvie suggests, squeezing her knee.

Scarlet inhales sharply, willing herself to be strong and not let herself falter.

“No, I think I shouldn’t.”

“You sure?” They come to a stop at a red light and they lock eyes. Yvie has her brows slightly furrowed, trying to gauge what’s wrong, and Scarlet feels like a wild thing, trying to decipher how does she do it, how does she keep her cool so well when Scarlet is melting against the carseat, the blood boiling in her veins with longing and fighting every atom in her body to stay strong on her no.

“Hundred percent,” she says through gritted teeth, peeling her gaze away.

“Hm. Whatever you want, princess.”

Scarlet barely keeps it together. It’s so cruel to call her that right now, when she’s trying and failing to make her escape before her longing kills her.

Yvie drops her off at her apartment complex, and once Scarlet slams the car door shut, she decides that fuck it, she's going to use her vacation days for once and go back to Kansas to regain some semblance of control over her life. Her friends can lend her class notes later, when she doesn’t feel like a soulless puppet at Yvie’s beck and call.

She dials Jackie not ten minutes after and books the flight tickets in less than an hour.

***

[yves !!] hey is everything ok? 

[yves !!] can i come over to talk? 

[yves !!] fuck please. talk to me

[yves !!] starlet

***

Scarlet hasn’t talked to Yvie in two days, and she’s never used drugs to know what withdrawals feel like, but she supposes this must be akin to that. She feels every cell in her body yearning to reach out, to go right back to her sheets and learn to be satisfied with it as long as she’s with her. But she has to have some dignity, so she asks her moms to take her phone from her while she’s desperately sobbing to prevent herself from reaching out to Yvie.

She feels like the pinnacle of stupidity, getting herself so hurt over a fling that she sought out, that she plotted to make it happen. Now, she’s truly sixteen all over again, locked up in her childhood room crying over a girl that hurt her precious princess feelings when things blew up in her face.

Her moms don’t tell her to get over it, you’re twenty-five already, but instead offer her many, many chocolate chip cookies and silent cuddling sessions where the only thing she does is cry with her gaze lost in the distance.

By the fourth day she feels good enough to come out of her room and go to the supermarket with her moms, but she has to go back to the car in the middle of it because she saw a pair of women that looked like her and Yvie pushing a baby-stroller in the frozen foods section, then proceeded to bawl her eyes out.

When she inevitably has to go back to New York, her moms promise they’ll come visit her in a few weeks to check on her, and send her on her way with a tupperware full of chocolate cookies and some semblance of autonomy back in her mind.

***

AUGUST.

“You’re so weird,” Scarlet giggles, sitting across Yvie’s lap. “How did you even manage to get that many socks to make a floor length gown?”

Yvie shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Many thrift stores and a stubborn head,” she says, making her laugh again, and she feels a sort of pride wash over her.

It’s been two months since they started sleeping around, and she knows it’s pathetic from her to keep giving in and inviting Scarlet over just because she wants to hang out with her using the excuse of having sex, but she’s too much of a coward to invite Scarlet on a proper date and get told no. It’s easier to pretend there’s no strings attached and this is just casual, lest she’ll scare her off.

Although Scarlet was the one that flirted with her back in June, if the way she acted around her at work afterwards was anything to go by, she didn’t want anything else to do with her, and yet, like a fool, Yvie sought her out again.

Yvie knows, is very aware, that despite being somewhat attractive, the oddness that makes her stand out is also the reason why the women she likes never like her back. And that’s just personality wise; on the odd chance they like her back, her disability is enough of a reason to scare them away. It was easier to just sleep around, dating casually and not giving much of herself away.

Then Scarlet came in, very blatantly interested in her, and once she was a hundred perfect sure she wasn’t just another flirt bored during work hours—thanks to Kameron, who assured her Scarlet had never ever tried to hit on her, at all—she decided that, fuck it, why not?

But then Scarlet became like an intoxicating presence in her life, pulling her in and leaving her wanting more, making her dream of dates that didn’t start with having sex or them being too tired after a shift to do much else than go for take out, and Yvie couldn’t do much else aside from trying to hide how much she wanted—wants—her in more than a sexual way.

Now she’s stuck in this loop where she’s the one that keeps reaching out to her, against her better mind. Why Scarlet came back time and time again, Yvie’s not sure. She supposes the sex is good enough to make her want to keep her around.

Scarlet bids her goodbye after a while, giving her a last kiss before she hops on her Uber, and Yvie is left feeling like a pathetic coward, who dreams of being courageous enough to ask the woman she sleeps with to be her girlfriend.

One day she’ll do it, she just hopes it’s not too late by then and Scarlet has lost interest.

[bloggingboutburgers]

Do you have any advice for someone traveling to Europe from the US for the first time?

Hi!! I'm so so sorry for replying so late TwT This week's been messy!! I hope I'm not too late TwT

Seeing as I'm the European one in my long-distance relationship with my queerplatonic partner, and THEY've had to come to Europe from the US for the first time to visit me, I took the liberty of asking THEM for some advice, which I feel would be more accurate^^ They've given a lot of input, so everything's under the cut! (Many thanks to them <3)

Okay I'm just going to be transparent here. If you're traveling to Europe by yourself, then be mindful of any testing or documentation needed for that travel. ( Good starting point is here [https://travel.state.gov/content/travel/en/international-travel/before-you-go/travelers-with-special-considerations/schengen.html]) It's always good to make sure you have them at the ready since the international airport of where you live, will most likely check that when confirming your check in. Currently from my understanding, people from the United States will need the European Travel Information and Authorization System (ETIAS) in order to come in to the EU. ( website over here [https://travel-europe.europa.eu/etias_en]) That starts January of 2024. However, once you have it, it's good for three years. They're not accepting applicants at the moment but it's important to have that at the ready if you are planning to visit in the next following year and onwards. Aight, so that's the whole technical aspect of it. Here's like genuinely wish someone told me when I traveled by myself to Europe.

[16:37]Bruh, I underestimated how long the flights are. Absolutely get a airline that provides food regularly because you'll definitely be needing it or bring some food with you. The hunger factor gets to you! Also water, please do get that! During those flights, I've had window seats and they've been serving me well! Like honestly if the section is going for the restroom, you follow the herd, just to make it easier. Also, gauge if ya can chat with your seat neighbors! They've been pretty cool from my experience! (My first ever flight to Europe, there was a couple with a service dog with them! They kindly allowed me to pet the dear but sadly had to move to a better seating for them. Which I respected! Though as a result I had a whole lane for myself! Boi the leg space was a god send! Gosh! Yeah! The leg space in economy is cramped! In all transparency, I'm petite! I fit fine but for my fellow average and up companions...yeah it's a bit uncomfortable. Just be sure to do stretches before and after the flight!) Let's see...I've brought my own head phones which was solid for the movies provided at the flight and if you want some music while you read! I finished vol 1-3 of "The Adventure Zone: Balance" when I first visited with some nice tunes! Then I read some long fanfics from AO3, which were super solid. Nonetheless, whichever is most comfiest for you to spend hours doing for entertainment with slight constant movement is more power to you! It's okay to give yourself options too! Hmmm...once you land, at least where I landed, there was small letterings in English that assist in directing your way through the airport. Though more often than not, there's veterans that just know their way and usually the crowd is heading the same way. So know where your going but usually if you follow the herd of peeps heading to customs, ya know ya have arrived. Gosh, okay, I'll stop right there! Thank you for reading my Ted talk!

That's for my partner's advice! And as for a bit of mine:

Definitely don't forget about the ETIAS document if that'll apply to you. It's a fairly quick process but it's crucial.

Don't expect a great level of English proficiency everywhere in Europe. It can vary from country to country. Typically countries that speak latin languages (like France, Italy or Spain) tend to be less fluent in English and you'll have more trouble Englishing your way there. Of course, that's all evolving with time, but yeah.

...Overall honestly that's the European in me talking but don't expect too much from Europe Europe is kinda mid /j /hj

[witch128chick]

under the "Labyrinth Runners" rewatch post i suggested to analyse Amity's name and Willow's role in the friend group and got requested to do it. so, this is what i'm doing now!

first, let's start with Amity's name. i didn't make the connection until i read about it somewhere, that her name means friendship. it's a shame tbh, bc i learnt French at some point and the word "friendship" means l'amitié (f) in French. however, the name's origin is Latin.

Amity; meaning: friendship, harmony.

now that we cleared this, let's talk about Willow's name. surprisingly enough, her name means "willow tree", originated from Old English. one of the websites describe the trees as elegant and having the ability to grow and prosper despite unfavourable conditions.

i can't help but bring up smth i learnt at uni. i think one of the most famous willow trees is Salix alba 'Tristis', commonly called Golden Weeping Willow or White Willow. (but that might just be me. the tree is indigenous in my country.) the word "tristis" means sorrowful, mournful. this will only be a side note, just an idea i had, but i wanted to include it, for further angst potentials.

so the meaning of the names is cleared. now let me write a little summary about Willow and Amity's friendship.

the two started off as friends pretty early. Willow was everyone's first friend in the Hexsquad, but her first friend was Amity. i'd link that to the meaning of her name. then, the two were forced apart, and Willow became a sad part of Amity's life, someone she missed, someone she mourned losing as a best friend. here comes the side note i mentioned in point 4. the two then found each other again, when Luz (Spanish name, meaning light) shone her light on them and the sorrow vanished. at least partly, since the hurt they both felt was still present.

Amity was forced to be friends with kids she didn't like, her true self fading over the years after losing Willow. she made mistakes in this new situation where she most likely felt alone and most importantly; didn't have her best friend by her side. to someone who's name means friendship and who's a genuinely kind and sweet person, this was enough reason to become cold and watch as the harmony within fell apart. without her best friend Amity couldn't be herself with anyone, therefore she had to suppress all her traits that didn't fit in the friend group she was forced into.

Willow cruelly lost her best friend. she was alone, until she met Gus. another thing from uni: big, majestic trees are perfect to stand in the middle of a bigger garden as solitaire trees. and willows are big, majestic trees. so as another side note, i'd say she was alone like those solitaire trees. (tho the White Willow i mentioned earlier is most commonly planted on watersides.)

as my last point, i'd like to talk a little about point 3. especially about the part where i mentioned that willow trees have the ability to grow and prosper despite unfavourable conditions. Willow was definitely in an unfavourable condition, before becoming friends with Gus and even after that, bc of the bullying and the fact that her former best friend was one of her bullies. but she grew. even more, after Luz - the light or the sun, if you will - shone on her. Willow became the strongest she's ever been.

both Willow and Amity needed Luz to become who they were meant to be. actually, Luz had that effect on everyone. literally. my point is that Willow and Amity's friendship is an important lesson about staying true to yourself, losing yourself bc of control and cold circumstances, unhealthy coping mechanisms, second chances to people who deserve it and healing not being linear.

i think that's all i wanted to say. i had these thoughts in my head for quite a while so i'm glad i finally sat down and wrote this :D it was fun! it got me engaged even tho i thought i'd lose interest after 5 minutes. but i finished it in one sitting! anyway, i can totally see myself do more of these kind of posts and i'm open for requests too!

hope you liked my little rambling about Amity and Willow! <3

sources: The Bump, Wikipedia, North Carolina Extension Gardener Plant Toolbox

[possessionisamyth]

Since that person said to ignore or block them for their post if there's disagreement, I will respect that and just make my own post.

Why is RE5 labelled racist and not RE4? Well, there's two things going on here. First, the original RE4 was kinda racist too. There's Ada Wong's depiction, the people in Spain weren't speaking Spain Spanish but Latin American Spanish and some of it was just gibberish. There's the "mexican yellow filter" layered on top of the village segment. Yet, the word we're actually looking for when it comes to the issues of Resident Evil 4 is xenophobia not racism. Everything is going under the cut because there's a lot here. Pardon for any typos, and there are links attached.

I genuinely think an RE5 Remake would be a reboot due to it's issues and the story direction changes RE4 Remake has made. If that helps get an idea of my thoughts before you click that button, you've been warned.

What's the difference? Let's look at the dictionary terms according to the merriam-webster dictionary.

Xenophoba- Fear and hatred of strangers or foreigners or of anything that is strange or foreign.

Racism- A belief that race is a fundamental determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race.

A further example of the difference here is a French white person can be xenophobic to a Polish white person showing that same hatred, but it's not racism because both parties still benefit from the privileges provided to them due to the color of their skin and lack of ethnic features.

So what's the difference between the RE4 and RE5 depictions, and why is RE5 labelled as racist? Starting with the setting, RE4 is set in Spain. It's not set in Mexico, or Brazil, or Cuba, but it is in Spain. Spain is a colonial power who colonized huge areas of South America. The reason there are so many english speakers in North America is the same reason there are so many spanish speakers in South America. Which is the brutalization and murder of the people and their cultures to force assimilation into another culture. Here is the Britannica article [X] and a list of a colonies Spain exerted control over if you scroll to the bottom [X].

Spain as a country and a culture have the same foot to stand on when it comes to being turned into mindless zombies and being killed as US Americans, British, French, Canadians and so on from a world perspective. There are very obvious classism themes going into play for this village Leon has stumbled into and proceeds to shoot his way through including how the houses are built and what the bridges are made from.

The most important distinction is that RE4 has villagers, soldiers, monsters, cultists, a man dressed as a priest, and another man cosplaying as a Spanish colonizer. You know what they don't have? They don't have enemies dressed up in luchador outfits, fiesta outfits, or wearing big sombreros. The only blonde woman they're seen trying to steal and infect is the character you have to save, get to know as a person, and get to play as in a game segment. Plus the person pulling all the strings is another white man looking for power like the Spanish did when they killed all those people historically speaking.

On the other hand, what colonizers did to the entire continent of Africa was so awful many labeled it The Rape of Africa. Historians later labeled it The Scramble for Africa, yet the history remains as bloody and grotesque regardless of the title.

Spain did have it's own tragedies, but you don't want to read all of that history junk. You want to know why RE5 is labelled racist specifically! It's just a video game. Sure there was the tribal costume for Sheva, but that's the worst of it. I mean RE5 is just RE4 with a setting change and with Chris instead of Leon, right? Yes and No. Let's list the similarities first and bleed into the differences.

Evil white guy seeks power and discovers a resource he can use to gain power. (Saddler with the plaga in amber, Wesker with the sonnentreppe flowers for Uroboros)

Heroic white guy comes on the scene based on a tip they received so they can find a particular woman. (Chris for Jill, Leon for Ashley)

Both groups that the player has to kill are infected with parasites.

Both protagonists deal with an infected population where the line between their humanity and inhumanity is questioned due to their ability to communicate and use tools to further their goals to kill and infect.

Both games have the player enter a village where it's clear the place isn't the richest and- wait a minute. Wait a minute!

The town we enter in RE5 is being occupied by the military on the hunt for terrorists. It looks like it used to be in pretty good shape, but based on the random plumes of smoke and what appears to be previously bombed rooftops, it's clear this place has been through some shit which can be based on the amount of damage these buildings have. The houses in the village in RE4 look as though they were falling apart due to age and negligence not outer forces. In RE5 we also keep seeing the imagery of killed livestock unlike in RE4 where the player is responsible for most dead livestock. So Plaga Type-1 can take care of their animals but Plaga Types 2 and 3 don't care? Well, that probably has nothing to do with the location.

Speaking of location, did anyone else notice whereas in RE4 the locations get more modern and/or expensive you can visibly see where the money has gone, but in RE5 the locations get more ancient and tribal themed until you have to deal with Wesker? Just me? Okay, back to the similarities.

Both the plaga amber and the sonnentreppe flowers have been there for hundreds of years, and the- hold on a second. Ramon's family was responsible for making sure the amber never got out. They sealed the place up because they knew it was dangerous. The sonnentreppe flowers were used by the Ndipaya tribe in West Africa to determine who would rule them and their king would then become super human. They fled when their empire fell, labeled it as sacred ground and sent men of their tribe as soldiers to guard it, and then later lost that sacred land to a corporate militia. Ramon opened up the amber caves to Saddler willingly after his parent's "mysterious death and disappearance." Hmm.

Ramon is a descendant of a famous colonizer. The Ndipaya tribe was doing some messed up eugenics tests as The Right of Kings, stopped doing that to turn the zone into holy ground, and then were removed from their own land by a foreign power. Hm. This is starting to sound familiar in a bad way.

Okay, but no one cares about that stuff! No one thinks that deep in the lore or set pieces. The people claiming racism are "blowing up" about RE5 when it comes to the visuals. All right. Let's talk about those because you are right! The visuals are the meat of the racism label.

Remember how I said RE4 doesn't have ganados running around in sombreros and luchador or fiesta outfits which would actually be racist? Let's look at the majini.

Both the ganados and the majini are being used by their specific higher ups, (Saddler's cult and Tricell) to act as a militia force in order to protect foreign interests. As a result both parties are hostile and murderous to outsiders.

Both games gives distinct costuming to differentiate stronger enemies. For RE4 you have Salvador, El Gigante, J.J. the gatling man isn't great imagery for Spain not going to lie. There's the bella sisters. The group that has the most distinct costuming due to them being bags are the cultists as the soliders just line up with Krauser's choice in wear.

Now the majini are- oh. Okay, gattling gun majini and gattling ganado cancel each other out. The rest though... Okay, Executioner is probably supposed to be like Salvador, but we get a chainsaw majini segment so the Executioner must be like the Bella Sisters? Okay, there are two of executioners so that's what we're going to claim. Big Man Majini? They didn't even give him shoes or a shirt. He's just in short pants. I can't think of a ganado comparison that would even this out. Giant maijini? Why do they have those masks on?!?! Why are they running around with rope loincloths?!!! Stop being so tall!!! Get down from there! Yeah but El Gigante was, no no, RE5 also gets their own El Gigante, the Giant Majini were a different enemy. Okay but the rest of the Ndipaya are supposed to be like the cultists and- hello? What do you mean there was a letter written by a dying child in that village that the surviving Ndipaya men put on the ceremonial outfits before they started their killing activity?

But the cultists also wore ceremonial outfits! Okay, but I don't think I need to explain the visual difference between wearing a long black dress versus putting on ceremonial clothing and body paint used only for special occasions. If you need a comparison, the cultists dressed that way to show dedication to their religion similar to nuns so they wore it everyday. The Ndipaya tribe wore normal clothes up until infection where they then dressed up in their special formal costumes so they could look more tribal for the section where the player gets to kill them all. That's not great. At all.

I think the overall reception for this game being labelled as racist or not racist has to do with people just wanting to enjoy the game and ignore the issues, and people talking about the issues in a way that isn't exactly concise. We know black people were on the development team according to an MTV interview with RE5 Producer Jun Takeuchi [X]. According to him, the team valued the opinions of their black members during development and were constantly checking with them.

We know many people writing articles trying to debunk the racism label were running to Glenn Bowman who is an anthropologist and Sue Clark who at the time was the head of the British Board of Film Classification wherein both parties stated the game was not racist. [X] But when it comes to Glenn's comments, it turns out he wasn't an expert on race relations at all. [X] I tried digging deeper into the source, but the blog post exposing videogamer.com is now gone. Yet, I can look up Glenn Bowman and see that he's a retired professor. A retired white professor who was an expert on international relations like in Palestine, Israel, and Yugoslavia. [X] Not race relations. So the fact that everyone was referencing these two people as sources for the game not being racist does concern me.

Look, RE4 dropped in 2005. The conversation about it's racial and xenophobic issues were held mostly between the small RE circles people managed to find and other people of color who played the game at the time of it's release. This is also if those circles even brought up the topic because it was such a game changer for the genre, the issues it had were an afterthought until later on.

RE5 dropped in 2009. Social media was just getting it's foot in the door outside of forums. The first black president had been in office for a year, and conversations about race were finally being brought back to the table in a way that wasn't immediately humorous or dismissive because "things had gotten better". The US cultural consensus during the 2000s was a situation where the middle class felt like everyone had a seat at the table when it came to discussions of race. That's one of the reasons why looking at that decade of films you'll see things about race that would never pass into a final script today. I mean Tropic Thunder came out in 2008, and the negative reception it received still didn't "blow up" as understood public knowledge until a couple years after the fact. Some black people thought it was a hilarious when it dropped, and those were the voices being highlighted.

When and why people are saying RE5 is racist is because like many things of the 2000s, there are concepts in there that have aged like milk. They are offensive, outdated, and based on negative stereotypes given to an entire continent of people and the people who are descendants of the slaves reaped from those countries.

Yet, the scene that people bring up the most in this game other than th Ndipaya tribe is the classic racist fear mongering image where we see a dark skinned black man violently yank a blonde white woman away from safety while she screams for help. Does this remind you of the "Mad Brute" poster by Harry R Hopps. Or "America’s desire — Europe’s fate" from the Fliegende Blätter. Or the assumed excuse a lot of black men got lynched for? I understand this town is supposed to be horrible and the majini the victims, but I have to ask why it was specifically a white woman with blonde hair instead of a black woman being yanked into that building while she screamed for help. That is such a strong visual decision to make in the middle of this town in an African country where we also see a black woman walking by carrying a basket on her head at the beginning of the game. So the black women are still here, but they're not even cast into the role of a throwaway victim in this game?

To answer why is RE5 racist and not RE4, I've said a lot here. If the story is set in Africa, of course Chris is going to be killing african zombies. That's what we're going to see. That's not the racist part when here are other zombies who are not visibly black in those crowds that mob the player. What is racist is seeing the racially charged tribal imagery to frame these victims of this tragedy as monsters. What we need to see in instead if we get a remake is a concentrated effort to focus on Tricell and Wesker and the last tendrils of Umbrella as the bad guys.

These are places being occupied by corporate interests, and people being experimented on and tortured for corporate profits. Yet we have a location where something sacred was not only thematically framed in a way that justifies the extinction of an ancient tribe, but their descendants are then punished for it through being lied to and tricked under the promise of receiving healthcare.

RE5 is racist not because a white guy is killing african zombies in an african country. RE5 is racist because it tries to take a story about colonialism and racism and the structural failings of the government and doesn't execute it well. And we know it doesn't because people are still having these conversations long after it's release despite it's financial success.