#lo fans safe space

[genderkoolaid]

In Los Angeles, one of the queerest cities in the United States, there are surprisingly few spaces where trans masculine individuals can find solidarity and community. For some, trying to fit into queer spaces after transitioning can be an isolating experience once they start to pass as men. “In general, people can’t necessarily look at me and know that I’m trans,” says Devyn Payne, jumping rope outside to warm up ahead of his match. It’s now different for him to enter LGBTQ+ rooms where lesbians might read him as a straight man or gay men might not recognize him as trans. “Passing as a Black man, my experience has been different in sapphic spaces ... I don’t necessarily feel welcomed [anymore].” The 27-year-old used to wrestle competitively in high school, but three years after coming out as trans he is now rediscovering his joy in the sport and reconnecting with the queer community in a different way — tonight by wrestling another trans man in a neon green jock strap under the alter ego “T-Payne.”

“Before I went to my first Trans Dudes of LA event, I had no trans men friends,” Payne says. “I can’t necessarily relate to [cisgender men]. So it’s great to have people who I can talk about the changes of being on testosterone.” [...] In this room full of transgender people, the weight of a gender binary disappears. Masculinity becomes play material, a performance to bend and break. People dressed for the part exude “Brokeback Mountain” homo-eroticism, another pair act out a construction worker role-play in a BDSM scene in which a plastic hammer is shoved in the mouth. Cal Dobbs, dressed for the part as a judge for the tournament, wears a white wig reminiscent of the founding fathers and a thong under his black robes. (“RBG, classic sex symbol,” Dobbs explained of his costume inspiration from the late Supreme Court Justice.) “Trans men and trans masculine people are redefining masculinity,” says the 27-year-old, who was the first trans person to run across the transcontinental United States. “[Wrestling] is a hyper masculine sport, [but the competitors] bring an element of humor and romance and cuteness to it that makes everyone feel really comfy and safe.” [...] In the weeks leading up to the big performance, Elías Naranjo and Arón Sánchez-Vidal had practiced their wrestling routine weekly for a month, familiarizing themselves with consent and boundaries to make sure they wouldn’t hurt each other. “I was asking them, ‘Is it OK if we kiss? Is it OK if I pick you up and grind on you?’ And he was like, ‘Yeah, I’m open to it,’ ” says Naranjo. But on the spot the two also decided to improvise as Sánchez-Vidal took his testosterone shot on the wrestling mat — a moment met with thunderous applause. The two entered the ring waving Mexican and Peruvian flags dressed as vaqueros. “EL VAQUERO... STR8 4 PAY?” read a sign that Sánchez-Vidal’s girlfriend had made to cheer on her partner. “There’s so much in being brown and trans and queer,” says Naranjo. “We want to show up and take up space ... we’re Peruvian, hot and trans.” The two won best partners, splitting a $150 cash prize at the end of the tournament. Inclusiveness was on the forefront of co-organizers Miller and Bandrowski’s minds as they planned this event. They prepped over 200 hot dogs to feed their hungry fans, a hot and heavy playlist to rally their attendees, and hired ASL interpreters to make the event accessible for deaf members of the queer community. This was their biggest event yet.

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.2

So I truly didn't think that many people would like this but thank y'all so much, genuinely

The reader is unfortunately no longer GN, they are referred to as 'mom' but otherwise fairly neutral

There is blood/sort of self harm imagery in this one but it ISNT SELF HARM I promise! Make sure you only read if you're comfortable though!!!

<< Part 1 Part 3 >> Masterlist

Waking up next to him was pretty surreal. Mostly because of how relaxing it actually was. His chest pillowed your head and one of his arms was around your back, playing with your hair. He smelt fucking amazing.

You lifted your head and looked down at him, images of last night flashing behind your eyes. It had actually been pretty funny to begin with, neither of you could work out how to get the other out of their suits, ending in you both giggling and undressing yourselves. He was out of his suit lightning quick - you're surprised it is still intact - and immediately found his way back to you. Kissing your neck and you struggled to remove your shoes.

“I promise this isn't some elaborate plot to turn you off.” You laughed as your foot was finally free of the blasted shoe.

He merely hummed, breath fanning your neck as he slowly bit down. Your brain short-circuited and it took a full shaky breath for you to be back in the room and removing the spandex.

His face was calm, relaxed, and he gifted you a small smile.

“Hey.”

You grinned back. “Hi.”

“It's still pretty early.” He wiggled his brows.

Your cheeks warmed and, in a move that probably wasn't wise, you hid your face in his chest. “No. We have to get ready.”

His chest rumbled with his chuckle and you groaned, placing playful kisses on his pecs.

“C’mon, baby.” He pulled you up to his lips and kissed you slow. Taking his time with a leisurely pace.

You kissed him back before nipping his bottom lip, knowing it would drive him crazy, and pulling back. “Stop." Kiss. "It's a big day." Kiss. "I gotta make sure Laura eats.”

Confusion splattered across his features but he slowly released you. A fact that you were grateful for because you don't think you could've rebuked him another time.

You eased yourself up, still a little sleepy and a little sore before stretching fully. His eyes watched your naked body shamelessly and you turned to locate your suit.

“What is that?” His expression was stony.

You turned around to catch what he had seen and couldn't find anything. “Was it a spider or something?”

“No, what is that?” He pointed at you.

There better not be a fucking spider on me. You looked down, scared, to see nothing. Just yourself, naked as the day you were born. “I'm still confused.”

“That fucking scar on your back."

Ah.

Shit.

He hadn't seen it last night because he had you laid on your back for the majority of it.

“Oh. That scar.” You played it off. “It's nothing real-”

“Did I do that?”

“No. It wasn't you.” You bit your cheek. “It was a version of you.”

“Wh-”

“Lo.” You stopped him before he could spiral, placing a hand on his cheek. “Nothing happened that I couldn't handle. He just got lucky and unlike you I can't heal everything so unfortunately I have claw marks. But I am alive and safe and you are not to blame.”

He looked like he was about to argue but a knock at the door stopped that.

“Guys, are ya decent?” Wade asked in a sing-song voice.

Not really. “You okay?” You called back.

“Yeah, I'm here to tell you to hurry up because Maya doesn't know how to end this part.”

Who the fuck was Maya? “O-okay?”

“See ya soon!”

Logan didn't look like he wanted to move. He was content with staying here and blaming himself for something that he didn't do.

“Look, Logan, if he is awake they all are. It's time to go.”

He had to agree with you there.

~~

Logan entered the main living space and was unsurprised to see everyone else there. Gambit was sitting with Elektra talking strategy, Blade was kneeling spinning his weapon and psyching himself up, Deadpool copying every move he made and you were braiding Laura's hair.

“At least they won't be able to grab your hair, lovely.” You kissed her crown as you finished, tying it off with a small piece of fabric. She smiled and scooped a handful of dry cereal into her mouth. “Make sure you have some fruit, please.” The girl rolled her eyes but did take a piece of fruit from the can by your feet. “Good girl.”

Laura would never tell anyone but she loved praise from you. You were her favourite person and for you to tell her she was doing good meant the world. She liked to be strong and fierce but secretly she loved when you babied her.

“You her mom or something?” Logan asked. He didn't mean for it to sound so insulting. Every set of eyes turned to him, their judgement sitting heavily on his shoulders.

Wade even piped up, “What in the ever loving fuck?”

You looked up shocked and a little embarrassed. “No, of course not. But it's good to keep her safe and s-she needs a balanced diet, so I try to... provide one.” Oh, god. You sounded crazy. Your gaze fell to Laura who was staring right back at you. “Sorry. I guess I have been acting like your.. I know you have parents and I know I'm not- I’m sorry.”

“I don't have any parents.” She clarified.

That didn't hurt, per se, but it didn't feel good.

“‘course you do.” El called over. “She just braided your hair.”

Laura smiled and leant further into you, you hugged her back and handed the can of fruit to her. “Have you packed your things?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. Her ‘things’ were her comics and a pair of sunglasses. The light was far too bright for her eyes and they were a blessing in this wasteland.

“That's good.” You smiled as she stood up and walked through Wolverine, clipping his shoulder with her own.

Gambit asked Laura to help him in the other room. Everyone in your party knew it was a distraction so that Blade could feed. It was your turn and you knew it would go over swimmingly with the man that just insulted you.

“I didn't mean-”

“It's fine.” You stood and made your way over to the Daywalker. “You ready?”

“I hate this.” He clasped your arm and you helped him to his feet.

Wade reached his arm out and you obliged, pulling him up too. He bounced happily on his toes and hugged you. “You can be my mom any time.”

“Sure thing.” You chuckled.

“Where are you going?” Logan asked. He was just stood awkwardly where he had stopped in front of you and Laura.

“To feed Blade.”

“Feed him?”

Blade sneered, revealing his fangs. “I used to have a friend that helped my hunger. Now I'm here.”

“We all pitch in.” Elektra continued. “Take turns.”

Wade fanned himself, “he bites you? Kinky bitch.”

“No,” You shook your head. “I cut myself and pour an amount into a glass, we have a measuring line. It's a very well thought out system.”

“Cut yourself.” Logan's stony expression hadn't quite left from earlier but was back in full force now.

“It might sound strange to you but it's a good system.” You defended it. “We try to shield little Laura, we all take turns, it's fair. The only victim is Blade! He hates it!”

Blade, who had stayed quiet, nodded. He was embarrassed to ask anything like this, he hated that he was a Dhampir. His mother had died because of a selfish Vampire and said being cursed him, he swore to rid the world of them and here he was. No better than those he hunted.

“I'll do it.” Logan volunteered. “I heal so I'll do it.”

“You don't have t-”

“I'll do it.” He was firm but then spoke lowly. “I don't want any more scars on you.”

You sighed but agreed, half hating and half loving him.

“Come on then.” You ushered them both into the makeshift kitchen.

Deadpool followed watching with wide eyes.

Blade hung back as you got the glass, it had been scratched halfway to indicate the measurement.

“That's a lot of blood.” Logan's tone was accusatory.

“Every other day.” Blade informed, emotionless.

Logan was quick to yank off a glove and cut a quick slice on his hand. The hand had so many veins that he was sure it would take seconds to fill the cup. Except, he healed before he could fill it a quarter of the way.

He repeated his actions and the cut seemed to heal faster.

“This is embarrassing.” Wade ‘whispered’.

“Shut up.” Logan growled as he did it again and finally got just under the mark. “Is that enough?”

“Not quite-”

Blade agreed to stop this painful display. “It'll do.”

“Blade, we have a big fight coming up, you'll need all your strength.”

“It's okay, I'll be good.” He picked the glass up and took long thick swallows, hating that the taste was good. That it itched the scratch in the back of his head.

“So if he's a Vampire why can he go out in sunlight?” Deadpool asked whilst Blade licked his lips.

“Daywalker.. he can handle light.” You recalled something, “actually did you know that Dracula could as well? Sunlight didn't kill him, it just weakened him.”

Blade set the glass down, “I killed that mother fucker.”

“Dracula?”

“Yeah.”

“He's real?”

“Real as the stake I shoved into his heart.”

You were in complete shock. “Are you being serious? For real life? This… this is mind-blowing.”

Wade shrugged. “I dunno, I'm pretty sure in that comic he comes back to life.”

“Comic?” Blade raised a brow.

“Yeah keep up, sweety, this is a bunch of nerd comics thrust together with you included.” Deadpool pointed at you.

~~

You'd never seen a fully grown man scream ‘shotgun’ and sprint to the side of a car. Yet, here he was, shoving Gambit to the side and opening the door of a beat up Honda.

Wade rolled down the window and explained, “I'm not driving but I am a passenger princess.”

“I guess, I'll drive.” Elektra shrugged and there were no objections. She was probably the most logical of all of you, she could handle his outbursts and tune him out. She had done that to Daredevil for years apparently.

Laura, Gambit and Blade were next in the car, the latter sandwiched in between the others, they say in the middle row as the back row had been destroyed. You smiled at Laura leaning against Blade.

“Y/N.” Logan gestured to the open boot. Oh, right. Yeah. You'd have to get in the boot. With Logan. The man that had been cold towards you today. Great.

You shuffled into the car and settled your backpack next to you, he got in behind you and you were both just sitting facing each other. Knees meeting.

You busied yourself with your backpack, handing Laura her sunglasses. She had them on her head and placed them down for a second, forgetting them. Luckily you picked them up for her.

“There you go, hun.”

She blushed and took them happily. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

After that there was nothing else to do. You had no distractions.

Wade had put the radio on as El had pulled away from your home. This might be the last time you ever saw it. It was actually a little bit sad. You all might never be back here. Or all but one could be, you hated that thought. It was bad enough Johnny being dead - and he was fairly annoying - you couldn't handle anyone else. Were you going to cry? No. You weren't. You were fine. Everyone would be fine.

You sniffed just as Britney Spears started singing and Gambit and Wade put on a terrific performance.

"I think I did it again."

“You look tired.” Logan whispered, the others wouldn't hear him over the duet.

“Do I?” You frowned. What had you done to him this morning? “Way to make a girl feel special.”

“No I mean.” He sighed. “Have a nap. It's a long journey.”

“There's not an abundance of space.” You gestured to each other.

Logan manoeuvred and motioned for you to move with him, you were wary but did as he asked and ended up in a very comfortable position. It mirrored how you had awoken this morning, resting on his chest, except you were both closer. If that was possible.

To be comfortable he pulled your leg over his, leaving the other straight, and wrapped both arms around your sides.

“I'm sorry I've been a dick.” He whispered against your hair. “I- The scar set me off this morning and everything I've done since I can't explain. I don't know why I've been an asshole. I jus-I haven't meant to be it's just come out like that.”

“It's alright.” You raised one shoulder in a half shrug. Your Logan had explained once that sometimes he says something and between his brain and his mouth it was as though it went through an 'asshole filter'. He truly didn't mean to be a dickhead but he couldn't help it. He usually felt horrible when it happened.

“No it isn't-”

You placed your hand on his lips, “yes it is. Now shush let me sleep. I was up practically all night.”

At least that got you an amused huff.

Part 3

[httpscomexe]

is chapter 4 of runaway will be coming out soon? just genuinely asking, take your time don't feel rushed!!! i absolutely adore your fics 😍😍

Runaway 4

Summary: Xavier takes others over you, leaving you with Logan's worst nightmare. Staying with Wade Wilson.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, forced drinking, sexual jokes, fourth wall breaking. (Individual warnings per chapter) This will most likely be a non-con fic.

Word Count: 4155 (Find all chapters here) CH5

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

It becomes sort of a routine with Logan.

Wake up, let him brush your hair, let him choose your clothes, study, eat dinner, let him brush your hair, sleep, and then repeat. Occasionally, he would have days where he was busy, and you knew better than to try finding Wade. Since he’d taken your phone as a punishment, you hadn’t been able to contact anyone else either. But you didn’t think much of it.

And right now, it was morning. The sun was shining through his open curtains, light shining onto your thighs as you sat on the floor, Logan sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed as he brushed through your hair, his fingers occasionally stroking over your ears.

“Okay, what does this word mean?” You held up the book you were reading, and you pointed at a word on the second page.

“Do you know how to say it…?” He asks you, still brushing through your hair, you weren’t sure why he still was, since there weren't any tangles left.

“Sub…Lim…” You try pronouncing the word, stuttering a little. “Inal?”

“Good, now say it all together.” He asks, taking a tie off his wrist to pull your hair up into a ponytail, but he changes his name and continues to brush it.

“Subliminal? What does that mean?”

“Read the sentence, try to figure it out…” He tells you, sectioning your hair now to part it into box braids.

“It says ‘As is typical with this method, no part… particip…ant… participant reported being aware of the sub…liminal faces.’” You struggle a little, and hear him chuckle behind you.

“Good, what do you think it means?”

“Well…” You think about it, trying to remember what Xavier had taught you about root words, and just as you’re about to explain your thought process, there’s a knock at the door, making your ear twitch slightly to the sound. “Ow…” You move your head away, the pointy end of the brush he was using the part of your hair pokes the sensitive skin of your ear.

“Shit… sorry… are you okay?” He quickly gets down to his knees, and his hand fans over your large ear, and there's another knock at the door, the person behind it getting impatient.

“I’m okay Lo, go see who’s at the door.” You gently nudge his hand away, and you watch as he sighs and stands up to open the door, leaving you to gently rub your ear. You weren’t sure why they were so sensitive, but you were sure it was because you weren’t grown in your deer form yet. You’ve only spent a few hours in that form in total in your many years of being alive, so of course, it wasn’t very… developed.

“Jean?” You can’t see too well from your position on the floor, the bed being in your way.

“Hey, I wanted to talk about something, is Bambi here?” You stay quiet.

“No, she’s out with a friend.” He clears his throat, and you understand what to do, you crawl to the other side of the bed so you wouldn’t be visible to Jean.

“Can I come in?” You hear Logan step inside, then lighter footsteps until Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So Xavier told me…” You hear the bed move a bit more, and assume Logan sat down next to her. “Having her here is too risky.”

“Too… risky?”

“Yes… Considering she’s a hybrid and all.” You hear her sigh. “Obviously, people are searching for those. And if anyone finds out that she’s here… Well… Then we’re compromising the safety of everyone in the mansion.”

“So what? He wants to just throw her out?”

“No, he will provide her with a home and clothes to hide her-”

“It’s not happening.”

“It’s not up to you, Logan.” By this time, your ears were already pinned down to the back of your head, and if you weren’t sitting on your ass, your tail would be between your legs.

“She will die…”

“She’s survived all this time alone already. What difference would there be?”

“Yea she’s survived!” He half shouts and half whispers. “She’s survived because they catch her and hold her like a fucking animal.”

“Logan, why are you whispering? We’re alone.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then a sigh comes from Jean. “Bambi, you can come out.” Your ear perks up slightly, but you don’t move, she wasn’t in control of you.

“Bambi honey, come on out.” You stand to Logan's demand, slowly before crawling onto the bed, sitting near Logan.

“Hey… Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell her, but your ears are still down.

“It’s just… If they find you here, it’s putting everyone else at risk, and Xavier would… Well he’d rather lose 1 hybrid than lose hundreds of mutants.”

“I understand.” You whisper, but your eyes meet Logans.

“When does Xavier want her gone?” Logan's voice comes out gruff.

“As soon as possible. He was hoping this afternoon.”

“And why isn’t he the one telling me this? Why did he send you?” She’s quiet again apart from a sigh. “God he’s a fucking pussy.” His head turns towards you. “There’s a duffle bag in the closet, start throwing our clothes in it Bambi.” He stands up, and Jean stands up with him, a stunned look on her face with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry… Our?” She watches as you disappear into the closet, and her jaw goes slack as Logan follows behind you. “No, no. Logan, you can’t leave.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, Logan. We need you on missions.” She stands at the opening of the closet, and you ignore their conversation, deciding it doesn’t have to do with you.

“You guys will do just fine without me.” He says, reaching over your head to grab a heavy jacket. “Here hun, carry this one. It’s cold outside.”

“Logan-” She grabs his arm, and tries to pull on him. “You can’t-”

“No.” His tone changes completely, from just simple annoyance to straight anger and frustration. He clearly wasn’t happy about Xaviers negligence, and the last thing he needed was the stubborn red head pulling on his arm and telling him he can’t. “I am not leaving her out alone in fucking New York to be kidnapped by another fucking gang.” He pulls his arm away from her and he points in her face. “If you guys need my help so fucking bad, then you better talk to Xavier and figure out a way she can stay here.”

“Logan, there are hundreds of lives on the line, you could at LEAST do the logical thing.”

“The logical thing?” His voice gets louder, and you take a small step away but continue folding clothes and stuffing them into the duffle bag. “I lost my entire fucking family and everyone I knew in my fucking universe, and Bambi is the closest thing I have to family here.”

“The closest thing you have to a family? Logan you fight beside us in missions that could end up with the entire state exploded to dust and what? We’re not your family?”

“No, you’re not. The Jean that was my family is fucking dead, the Xavier that was my family, guess what? He’s fucking dead…” You glance over from the corner of your eye to see Logan take a progressive step towards him with each name. “Ororo, Hank, Scott, everyone that was my fucking family is dead. So excuse me if I don’t want to see a walking fucking corpse every last waking second of my life, and be reminded of my fuck up, everytime I see you motherfuckers…” Jean was now packed into a corner, Logan's face barely inches away from hers, and you can see the way her jaw is clenching. “So don’t you fucking dare tell me what I can, and can not do. I have no connection to you, and will have no fucking problem sending three fucking blades down the centre of your throat.” She doesn’t say anything, only swallowing her spit before her eyes move to yours, still in the closet and frozen in the middle of folding a pair of Logan's jeans before you had become invested in their argument.

You’ve never seen Logan so pissed.

“Fine… Leave.” She looks back up at Logan. “Have the lives of a couple more hundred people in your hands because you left, again.” Shit… You watch as his claws slowly extract from his hands, and you put the jeans down, slowly approaching in case Jean becomes a target.

“You better take that back…” They stare at each other for a long moment. Only the sound of the fan above spinning and the heavy breathing from Logan could be heard through the room.

“Make. Me.” Logan.

“Oh…” He chuckles. Logan…! “Now you’ve done it…” Logan!

“Logan!” Your voice comes out small, and his head twitches a little as he looks over his shoulder. He looks as if he had forgotten you were there. “Can we leave… Please?” You glance down as his claws are hidden back beneath his skin, and it heals over quickly.

“Right…” He growls a little, and backs away from Jean after one last look. “Are you ready then?” He asks, ignoring Jean now as he goes into the closet and lifts the duffle bag, tossing in the last pair of jeans before zipping it up.

“Yes I’m ready…” You stand in the centre of the room awkwardly. “I guess…” You mumble, and Logan sways his hand in front of him, signalling for you to move ahead of him as he grabs his keys, and you’re out of the door quickly, leaving Jean alone in the room, and his arm slides behind your back to walk next to you.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, watching in the mirror as Logan tossed the bag in the back, slamming the door and making the truck shake a little before getting behind the wheel and starting the engine.

“So where are we going?” He sighs, thinking of an answer to the question with one hand on the wheel as he stares at nothing. Then he reaches into his back pocket, and takes out his phone, handing it to you. “Call Wade.” You take the phone. “Act happy or whatever, and ask if he has space for both you and me…” He growls a little again, looking out his window as you find Wade’s name in his contacts, and you ring it.

“Peanut? And I thought you deleted my number.” The sound of Wade's voice alone was enough to make you smile.

“No, it's me.” You chuckle a little, expecting him to recognise your voice.

“Oh, darling. Bambi, you’re using Logans’ phone. Everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine. But he and I were wondering if you had space for both him and me?”

“They’re kicking him out already?”

“No, they’re kicking me out actually.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I have the couch, and I have an air mattress that I let Logan sleep on before he left me for one-eye. You guys can obviously stay here.” Logan sighs, but he starts the engine and speaks up.

“Still living under that bridge with Althea?” He asks gruffly.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to leave this humble abode. But peanut?” Logan grunts. “Do you mind picking up dinner? I’ll pay you back. We just need pizza.”

“Sure. What kind?” He turns over his shoulder and begins backing out.

“Hawaiian, no ham. And then just normal cheese.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks pea-” Logan reaches over and hangs up before putting the truck back in forward and he drives out of the parking lot, leaving the mansion behind.

“Can we also get some brownies?” You ask, putting the phone on the centre console.

“Of course, Bambi.”

“Oh, my two most favourite things ever are here!” Wades’ voice is joyful as both you and Logan walk inside of his little home, the smell of sweat and dog smacking you in the face.

“Male strippers and cocaine?” Another voice comes from a different room.

“Bambi and pizza!” He hugs you, and Logan grunts from behind. “Male strippers is my third favourite, silly.” He calls back, letting go of you and taking the pizza boxes from your hand.

“Hey Bam, how about you go shower, the bathrooms back there.” He points to the room where the other voice came from. Just another person comes out, wearing glasses and with a white afro and walking cane in one hand.

“Who the hell gives birth and names their kid ‘bam?’” She says, feeling around a little for the couch and mumbling something along the lines of ‘why does Wade keep moving the fucking couch.’ “That’s a stupid-”

“Her name is actually Bambi.”

“That’s a little better.” Just a few sentences in conversation between Wade and Althea, and you could tell just how close they really were besides their constant bantering. “Wait, her?”

“I know right? Logan managed to pick up a little girl.” Wade says giddily, placing the pizza boxes on the table and opening them all before taking two cheese, a pineapple, and three brownies.

“Oh then it’s not as surprising, I thought she was your girl.”

“Look, Wade and I need to have a talk.” Logan says suddenly, gently grabbing your arm to get you to look at him. “How about you go take that shower, okay?” You nod, and take some clothes from the duffle bag he's set on the floor.

“I promise the bathroom is the cleanest place in this house.” Wade tells you as you walk by, grabbing a brownie as you pass him. 

“Just ignore Wade's toys, he uses them when Vanessa is around.” Vanessa? “Or whenever Gossip Girls is playing… Wish I was deaf.”

You walk into the bathroom, the sound of Logan's voice disappearing as you close the door, and your eyes immediately land on the large dildo sticking to the wall, which you try your hardest to ignore and not laugh at as you turn on the faucet and remove your clothes.

With the time that you’re in the shower, Logan takes his time explaining to Wade why they need a place to stay for a while, at least until they find another place.

“God they are such pieces of shit. Like I get where they’re coming from with saving hundreds or saving one, but there’s also like either you save one hundred chickens or you save one unicorn. One’s just more important. You don’t find any mammal hybrids anymore.”

“Exactly, but also Jean got pissed off at me because I told her I’m leaving. Apparently I’m so important and they can’t win without me.” He takes a large sip from his beer, an understatement when half the bottle disappears down his throat.

“I mean they’ve survived and fought so long without this world's Logan before…” Wade tells him, snatching another cheese pizza.

“Look, if I ever end up having to leave…” He sighs, regretting his next words. “Just promise to take care of Bambi. Other than you, she’s all I have left.”

“Wow, talking about me like my life doesn’t matter.” He chuckles, shoving the cheesy bread into his mouth, getting the red sauce on his lips.

“Well you can’t die, she can.”

“Now, now. I was joking, Peanut.” Logan grunts at the use of the nickname.

“What’s this girl's real name anyways?” Althea asks, using a nail fail on her nails, not even realising how incredibly crooked they were becoming.

“No idea, I’ve been calling her Bambi cause… Well, she’s a deer hybrid.”

“Ah, ah. She’s a fawn hybrid.”

“Fawn isn’t a fucking species, it’s an age.”

“Yes, but she’s not a deer.”

“Pretty sure she’s full grown.”

“Maybe in her human form. But she hasn’t spent nearly enough time in her deer form to call herself a deer.”

“What are you talking about…?”

“Look at it this way, if she spent the majority of her life in her deer form, then she’d be a full grown deer, and whenever she turned into her human form, she’d be a toddler. Right now, she’s a toddler in her deer form, AKA, a fawn.” He pauses and looks away from Logan, eyes landing on Althea. “Al honey, if you keep doing that to your nails, they’ll be sharp enough to give someone a Prince Albert piercing.” He looks away from Althea and at a wall. “Readers, I don’t suggest looking that up.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Logan growls, and he can hear the sound of the shower being turned off.

“He does that sometimes, you learn to ignore it.”

“Maybe you do, but you’re blind. He literally just stared at the fucking wall and spoke to dust.”

“Like I said, you get used to it.”

As you get out of the shower and dry yourself, some sort of talk about walls and dust quickly changes into how Wade is a psychopath. Throughout your entire shower, you were thinking about where you’d be sleeping. Of course, knowing Logan, he’d let you choose between either the air mattress or the couch. The problem is, you didn’t know what’s been done on either of them. You knew Wade pretty well, and judging by the dildo still suctioned onto the wall, he didn’t really care who knew about what he did, and he didn’t mind where he did it. So you were sure there would be stains on either one.

“There she is.” Wade automatically silences the conversation as you walk out of the bedroom and back into the living room wearing only your favourite white lace panties and one of Logans’ hoodies, which looked oversized on your smaller body.

“Want the couch or the air mattress Bambi?” There it is. You still had the towel in your hands, and you were drying your hair as you sat next to him on the couch.

“Yea I had a question for you about that.”

“What’s up?”

“Is the couch even…” You look at Wade. “Clean?” You ask it in the nicest way you can, and the sight of Althea suddenly breaking out in laughter seems to stun Wade.

“Careful now, don’t want to have a stroke.”

“Oh fuck you.” She stops laughing and looks in your general direction. “Want my honest input.” You nod, but then remember she’s blind.

“Yes, please.”

“Sleep on the floor.” She tells you, then stands up with her walking cane, and heads towards her room, closing the door behind her.

“Logan, where would you rather sleep?” You expect him not to answer, and to just tell you that where he sleeps is based on your answer.

“I’d prefer the couch, an air mattress is like sleeping on a damn rock.”

“Can I just… Can I just sleep on you?”

“Oh. My. God. You better say yes, she’s offering to sleep with you.” Wade stands up from the couch, stretching in place before heading to Althea's room. They sleep together?

“Wade, we sleep together all the time.” Logan sighs.

“It was supposed to be a sex joke, Sheldon Cooper.”

“Who…?”

“Ignore it…” Logan holds his hand out, preventing you from saying anything else.

“Goodnight, Peanut. Goodnight, Bambi!” He calls from the room before closing the door, and you can hear the sound of him throwing his jeans down on the floor before the bed in the room creaks under his weight.

“So…”

“What do you mean sleep on me?” Logan asks, interrupting you.

“I mean like… You sleep on the couch, and I sleep on your body. Like you’re my bed.” He stares at you for a moment, as if deciphering your request.

“Yea… Yea, we can do that, that’s okay.” He groans as he stands up, tossing his beer bottle in a pile of more bottles, some broken from previous other bottles being tossed on them.

“I’m gonna eat first though, does Wade have anything to drink?” You ask, standing up as well, and skipping a little to his fridge.

“Ugh… I know he has beer.” He tells you, opening another closet and pulling out a few blankets as you open the fridge and search for something other than alcohol. You simply will not touch it.

“Gross… Is the sink water-”

“Don’t even think about drinking the sink water.”

“What does he give her?” You point down at the slobbery looking dog that’s been snoring this entire time, kicking her legs in her sleep.

“Probably his own saliva.” He tells you, and it almost sounded serious as he covers the couch in clean blankets. “Did you bring your hairbrush?” You nod, walking back over to the couch. “The beer?” He quirks his eyebrow, reaching down to find the hairbrush in the duffle bag.

“Beer is gross.”

“Grab me one then.” You turn back around, opening the fridge again to grab a beer for him. “Sit here.” He points to the couch, and you sit exactly where he’s pointing, and he sits behind you on the back of the couch as you’re seated between his legs.

“Thank you baby.” He takes the beer from your hands, and removes the few braids he was able to get in from that morning and afterwards he pops the beer open.

“How does your ear feel?” He asks once they’re all out, gently touching your ear with his fingers and stroking the fur gently, causing you to purr quietly.

“It’s fine, it was just a poke.”

“Good, I didn’t mean to hurt you Bambi…”

“I know, it was my fault. I moved.” He doesn’t say anything back, instead, he grabs the hairbrush and begins to gently brush through your hair, and again, as always, he’s careful to avoid your ears, using his hands to gently pull threads of your hair off the fur.

“Are you sure you don’t want the couch to yourself?”

“Logan, you know I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“I know, Bamb. Just trying to make conversation.” He tells you, and you reach forward, him gently letting go of your hair so he doesn’t pull it as you grab two cheese pizzas, the pineapple box completely empty.

“You have to drink something.” He continues brushing your hair, occasionally taking a sip of his beer as he focuses on brushing.

“I know, but beer is gross… We can always go out and get apple juice in the morning?” You suggest, and he sighs behind you.

“You haven’t drank anything all day.” He tells you, and you look up and over your shoulder at him as he sets the brush aside and puts more of the liquid in his mouth, you watch as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

“I’ll be alright.” You tell him as he stares down at you, and his right hand finds your chin as he lifts your face up slightly. Then he presses a single kiss to the corner of your lips, pulling back for a moment to take another swig of his beer, and his lips find yours fully now. His fingers squeeze your jaw carefully, but enough to force your own lips open, and he spits the alcohol into your mouth, making you involuntarily pull away but he keeps you still, replacing his mouth with his hand and covering your nose as well so you’re forced to drink the foul liquid.

“Now we either do that about five more times, or you drink the rest yourself.” He tells you, holding the half-filled bottle up to your eye level.

“Fine…” You groan, taking the bottle and sipping from it as he watches you.

“Good girl…” Your tail begins to wag on its own again at his praise and he removes his shirt before lying down on the couch with only a lamp on a small table next to the couch to illuminate a small portion of the room.

“Do I have to drink it all?”

“Just half is okay.” He tells you, and you close your nose before downing half of what he’s given you, hacking a little at the taste.

“Done.” You hold out the bottle to him, and he takes it, swallowing the rest before tossing the bottle towards the rest as before.

“Alright, lie down…” He pats his stomach a little, and you quickly crawl on top of him, taking a soft blanket from the side with you.

“So… since we’re living with Wade now…”

“You don’t have to ignore him…” He answers your question before you even finish asking it, and he shuts off the light behind him, casting the room in darkness, barely seconds later you feel his hand on your head as he gently scratches that spot behind your ear, making you purr.

You were relieved you wouldn’t have to ignore Wade, considering you’d be living with them for who knows how long.

“Just don’t ever sleep with him when I’m not here.”

Tags: @shybluebirdninja @atomicheartbroken @hazydespair

[xxxnightcorequeenxxxv2]

Humans are Space Fae 2

Safe to say, when humans joined the spacenet, new things were bound to crop up. Memes were quickly understood to be a language of its own, and most humans could tell you if you were looking at one. Most other beings got it or tried to engage with it as it was too confusing and convoluted for them to understand. That leads us to where this story starts; At a universal campus, where roommates had only been assigned a week prior. A student pair that happened to include a human. Was chilling in their room doing homework. The human, as usual, was wearing an earbud while working. "I'm sorry, but I've been really curious, human friend, about what you have been listening to while you have been working." "Oh, I've just been listening to music while I work, nothing unusual. " "So you have been doing the ritual of Lo-fi study music. Would you mind if I joined you in the practice." "eh... not exalty. Lo-fi is fine and all, but I never really got out of the so-called "Nightcore" phase. Not everyone is a fan of it. It can be a bit jarring if you are not used to it." "Is this Nightcore a music genre?" "yes and no, it's debatable. You'll know a Nightcore when you hear it, but Nightcore could be multiple genes. " "Curious, would you consider any other species songs to be Nightcore?" "Not originally, but, I've heard them made into Nightcore." "Fascinating, how do you make a song Nightcore?" "Well, the short and sweet of it is that you speed the song up so you can dance to it." "That's it? I find myself confused. Most songs are perfectly adequate songs to dance to already. Why would you speed them up?" "Well, it's a preference thing, but it still has value. Nightcore has introduced me to many more songs I would not have been introduced to if I hadn't listened to Nightcore." "Why won't you listen to the song normally?" "Sigh, I know, that's what most non-Nightcore fans say. But let me tell you the value a Nightcore could bring to you. You know those sad songs that tell you about the state of the universe?" "Yes, we do have some songs like that I enjoy; they are not as popular as other songs." "Well, they can be played for a bigger audience if you Nightcore them." "Won't that devalue the nature of the song if you make it a dance track?"

"No, it won't. See it like this: you hear the song in the club. Love it there. Add it to your playlist; you play it a couple times. And once have a quiet moment, you listen to the lyrics for once. And then the true meaning of the songs comes to you. " "So you are saying that songs an individual would have lost out on the message, don't get lost because the individual is not a fan of slower songs." "Yeah, that's it. You can also do it the other way with Anti-Nightcore/ Daycore If you are a fan of slow songs. It makes a dance song's lyrics stand out differently to you depending on your mood." "I would like a demonstration." "Alright then, listen to this song, " The human says as they deactivate their earbud.

After the song finishes they both look at each other for a second. they both grin at each other. "I understand your point friend. May we perhaps make some of my favorite slower songs Nightcore?" "Sure but let's see if they been Nightcored first. "

[idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy]

Earth 42!miles with popstar reader or Spider-Man! Miles with popstar reader

I’ve had this thought on my mind for a while and it makes me loose it 😭

MILES 42 & MILES 1610 WITH POPSTAR!READER

A/N: Ok bestie! I really tried with this one! I’m sorry if I didn’t bring you justice :/

WARNING: I dont speak spanish so I will be using google translate, lol. However, if anyone is a translator and can help me out please do!

BE PREPARED FOR VIOLENCE, FLUFF, POSSESSIVENESS, LANGUAGE, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING

I’m doing both Miles 42 and 1610 Miles!

———————————————————————————

MILES 42:

• He’s definitely super concerned for your safety and always keeps your location. He’s like your personal bodyguard and always does ANYTHING he needs to do to keep you safe

• I mean ANYTHING.

• If he has to go as far as killing someone for violating your personal space he will.

•When weird creeps/fans come up to you while your in the club best believe he’s right behind you.

Random person- “Hey hottie I love your music and I think your really hot, let me take you home and show you a good n-“

Miles - “A good what?”

Random person- “None of your businesses dude. I was talking to her”

Miles - “First of all I’m not your dude and you better back the fuck away from my girl before you lose your fucking life homeboy”

The guy instantly leaves. And miles protectively wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head

“estas bien mami?”

“si papi estoy bien!”

But he definitely has a whole playlist dedicated to you and listens to it all the time when he’s missing you.

Uncle Aaron makes fun of him when he sees him listening to your music cause you make bubbly (maybe even girly songs) very opposite from his personality.

“Don’t tell me you listening to that girly song again, man” Uncle Aaron says while laughing

“cierra la puta boca” Miles says under his breath.

———————————————————————————

Miles 1610:

• You know that one scene in ITSV where he was singing sunflower I can imagine that but with your music

• He’s just in awe by you and thinks your so talented.

•When he’s at your concerts he’s recording and photographing everything like a proud mom😭

“lo estás haciendo increíble cariño!”

• If he can’t make it to one of your shows because crime calls he always brings you gifts to make up for it🥰

• You probably make a few songs about him and when you play them for him he’s just blushing😇😇

THE END

I hope you liked it nonnie!!!

[genericpuff]

This whole "LO is ending" thing makes me a little sussy baka-

There are currently four ways for fans of LO to find out about it ending.

1.) Articles online , of which there are only two, from Cosmopolitan and Popverse

2.) A user who got to ask Rachel questions at NYCC and posted their findings to the official Discord which has recently re-opened

3.) The Lore Olympians IG page (a fan page for LO)

4.) The antiLO/ULO communities

Notice a pattern?

None of these are official sources.

Rachel hasn't tweeted it or posted about it to Instagram. "But she's busy with NYCC" might make sense, but the official Webtoon pages haven't posted about it either.

And despite the fact that Rachel HAS posted about the series returning, it HASN'T included the reveal that it's returning for its final arc.

And this makes me suspicious.

Why?

Because this isn't how you market a final season.

City of Blank is currently on its final season. We know this definitively because it's been marketed as such since the premiere.

They knew from the start that this was going to be the last season, so they marketed it as such. Which makes sense, this is something you SHOULD do when marketing a final season, it lets people know that if you want to read a series, NOW is the best time to do it! If you're someone who fell off the series, now is the time to check back in and catch up on what you missed!

LO, meanwhile, hasn't had that marketing. This made a lot of us suspicious that S3 wasn't going to be the final season (which was a common belief for a while) because if it was the final season, why wasn't it being marketed as such? Why were so many new plot threads being established if this was meant to be the last season?

It's tinfoil hat time-

I'm feeling very certain that the signs of S3 not being the final season were true - but the decision was made to end the series with the third season regardless.

When you really think about it, it makes sense:

The popular opinion of LO has shifted to negative, with many people calling the comic out on how silly and poorly made it is.

Every time Webtoon Official announces new awards for the comic, the general opinion is, "Why?" and not just from the antiLO/ULO community, but even from other webcomic creators and users of the platform.

Its average numbers have been rapidly dropping with each episode and they'll surely continue on that downslide after it returns from the longest hiatus it's ever been on.

Its rating on the app has been slowly but steadily dropping, and its viewcount has hardly risen despite all the marketing it gets from Webtoons.

The fans haven't had access to any sort of space since the closure of the official FB page, Discord, and subreddit (the latter of which was already dying in activity by the time it closed).

The newest releases of the physical copies go on sale literally less than a week after release. There's still no news of the TV show and it's becoming painfully obvious that the production rights are simply sitting around waiting to either be sold to another studio or abandoned entirely. And the longer time goes on, the further LO ends up being in the rearview mirror of WT culture, the less interest there will be in adapting it.

It's already barely discussed outside of the platform, people who traditionally read comics have no idea what LO is despite WT's rabid attempts to inject it into every corner of comic culture.

It's safe to say that much of WT's audience is very over LO, and many are simply sticking with it to see how it sticks its landing. Now we know that landing is coming in 2024, but we didn't know that until now, and it was very silently announced. Not a single word on Rachel's or WT's social media. No big hoorah or hype marketing to get people excited for the finale. Chances are fans have found out about this reveal more from the anti's than their usual sources of information.

This really casts an implication that LO was going to go on longer than a third season - but Webtoons decided to put down its golden goose instead.

Now Rachel has (according to the answers at NYCC) until 'early to mid 2024' to clean up the mess she's made.

(my personal theory is it's going to end just in time for the first day of Spring/Rachel's birthday).

Even her answers about her future projects and how the series will end are incredibly vague. Most of the time she's describing exactly what she's guilty of doing without ever owning up to the fact that she's largely the root of most of her work's problems. It's very much "take your own advice for once."

(^^^ Notice how she doesn't actually talk about the show here, she redirects it entirely to the books. Exhibit #2385902 that the show isn't happening and they just don't want to take the L.)

There's also an accompanying tinfoil hat theory that the reason they're being so vague about it is because they haven't actually committed to an ending. Which would be very Rachel of them to do. Rachel is notorious for saying she's doing one thing and then doing the complete opposite. She's often written entire plotlines as vague as possible to make it easier for her to either bury them or retcon them down the road, so I wouldn't be surprised if she wound up retconning the comic's entire finale if it's just a matter of her trying to decide if she wants to continue the comic or not.

That said, I think the former is a bit more plausible, knowing at least somewhat as to how WT works with their contracts. It really feels like she either suddenly decided not to continue, or WT cut her off entirely by not giving her a series renewal for a 4th season. I've seen series get sudden finales in the past due to WT cutting them loose, and those were series that were, unlike LO, actually enjoyed by many and didn't have an entire critic community based around them. It would explain why not even Webtoons is announcing the ending of the comic.

But we'll see what happens after NYCC ends and LO returns November 4th. I don't think LO is going to be able to stick the landing that it's been crashing towards for two years now, but you bet your ass I'm gonna be here to watch.

[savethegrishaverse]

Back to Grisha School: we present our new physical mail campaign, in tune with the beginning of school year enthusiasm that every wizard student awaits!

There is seldom a fantasy fan that at the beginning of autumn isn’t nostalgic about all things magic, whether it be about brewing rare potions, escaping to a secret abode in the middle of the woods or invoking the spirits of the ancestors’. But nothing quite encompasses this cozy sense of belonging like a school of magic.

When for Grisha there was no safe place, Aleksander promised that There will be. When Grisha scurried fearfully across the lands, no haven in sight, the Darkling vowed: I will make one. And that’s how The Little Palace came to be.

So pick up a pen and tell Netflix how the Grishaverse has made you feel included or how the fandom is a space of belonging for you, just how The Little Palace is for the Grisha and how at the start of autumn you can’t help but long to be a new Grisha enrolling or a new student at Ketterdam University. Remind them that this fan beloved theme - the school of magic - is right there among their adapted stories, awaiting continuation!

Use the following Mailing Address to send a letter or postcard to Netflix:

Sunset Bronson Studios

ATTN: __________

5800 W. Sunset Boulevard

Los Angeles, CA 90028

Choose one of the names below for ATTN:

Bela Bajaria: Chief Content Officer

Cole Galvin: Director of Original Series

Jinny Howe: VP, Original Series

[hyperfixation-fix]

Aight so.

Just reblogged a post that mentioned Nico canonically having depression (totally agree), but I wanted to talk about my other headcanons around Nico's mental health AND MORE IMPORTANTLY his recovery journey.

(AN IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm very wary of talking about headcanons involving mental illness, bc it can easily cross the line into romanticising mental illness. I grew up in that kind of online space, and it's toxic af and makes recovery almost impossible. So I want to emphasise, especially for younger fans who read this - Nico gets better, canonically and in my headcanons. So did I. So will you. It takes work, and often it's not a painless or pretty process, but it's so much better than letting yourself rot away in the dark. Romanticise being well, being happy, and getting better.)

In my head, Nico is autistic. But I think he's been so traumatised and so dissociated for so long that he doesn't even really realise how much things affect him, how much easier things could be if he gave himself permission to be the way he is.

FOR EXAMPLE. I think he is specifically very sensory-sensitive, but he's so disconnected from his body and brain that he doesn't really realise it. He just always feels Bad™️ and has never been safe enough to figure out why. So then, once he gets comfortable at CHB and really starts to finally feel safe and present, he starts to slowly untangle things bit by bit. Will is a big part of this - he's very intuitive and notices stress queues in Nico before Nico even realises he's stressed.

It starts off with Will noticing Nico avoiding crowds, which isn't necessarily weird for a kid who spent the last several years with ghosts, but then he realises it's not actually the people that bother him. It's the noise. Like, Nico avoids the Apollo Cabin as much as possible, even when it's completely empty except for Will, bc it's constantly got music playing a little too loud. Nico doesn't even really know why he doesn't like it and doesn't really bother thinking much about it, but Will is like "huh that's interesting". And, as he gets closer with Nico, that pattern becomes more and more apparent - in noisy places, Nico becomes tense and guarded, but in quiet places he's more relaxed. Then Will notices Nico's sensitivity to textures. Some clothes are consistently "grumpy Nico clothes" and some are "happy Nico clothes".

Will decides to run little experiments, making subtle changes around Nico and taking note of Nico's reaction. For example, suggesting Nico change clothes before a date because "I like the black jeans better" ie "the black jeans are a softer denim and stiff denim makes you grumpy". Or swapping out Nico's sheets bc "whoops my bad, I was practicing wound cleaning and spilled supplies all over them! But don't worry, I've replaced them with a new set so it's all good," ie "your sheets were cheapass 100% cotton and rough af and that's why you haven't had a good night's sleep like, ever, so here's a high-quality satin (or whatever, idk fabrics) set that probably won't bother you as much." And lo and behold, Nico sleeps like a baby every night after that. Or orchestrating a whole plan to get Nico into the Apollo Cabin when it's quiet (music gets turned low, siblings are threatened with weeks of dish duty if they don't keep it down), and seeing if he's less on edge. AND HE IS.

And eventually Nico picks up on Will's increasingly elaborate accommodation experiments (Will is simply having way too much fun at this point - he feels super sneaky, finds it hilarious that Nico still isn't noticing, and also just loves seeing Nico less stressed out) and is like "Solace I know you're up to something, out with it or else." And at that point Will is like "ok bet" and pulls out a fucking spreadsheet (Annabeth taught him how to use excel (yeh I know demigods don't vibe with tech but this is my headcannon so deal with it) with great joy and little-to-no interest in why he actually wanted to learn) with a bunch of Nico's triggers and sensitivities and the success rates of different accommodations. Nico is like "I'm actually going to kill you, you've been fucking with my brain for months????" but is barely containing how curious he is and how sweet he actually finds it that Will has thought so much about how to make Nico happy. But Will knows, especially when Nico, even while grumbling, takes the spreadsheet with him.

The next day Will presents Nico with a present he was saving for the final big-reveal: some loop earplugs or something similar. Discrete and practical 😌 Will just leaves them next to Nico's bed with a cute lil sticky note that says "Before you orchestrate my untimely demise as promised, give these a go. Consider it the last request of a dead man walking ;) love you Neeks x".

And that's that. The earplugs make a massive difference, much to Nico's surprise and Will's smug satisfaction, and from then on Nico starts to reconnect with himself and gets better and better at recognising things that make him more comfortable, and using them. Will considers his experiment over (a resounding success, of course), but is unwaveringly supportive and helpful as Nico figures stuff out.

Lol that became very long sorry, but it made me happy to write it out hehehe

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 11}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: You share the hardest parts of your path with Frankie and offer understanding to his own. 

Word Count: 5.1k 

Warnings: narcotics, recreational use of narcotics, addiction, recovery, nicotine, cigarettes, mentions of smoking, descriptions of injuries, blood, gun violence, brief description of a shooting scenario, readers past is revealed, medical jargon, trauma, ptsd, ptsd triggers, reference to use of alcohol, alcohol used as a coping mechanism, emotional vulnerability, kissing, Frankie’s skilled mouth, baking puns to lighten the mood??

A/N: HEAVY CHAPTER!! please, please proceed with caution, while the chapter is balanced it is very emotionally heavy. i do not take anything described in this chapter lightly, having been a victim in a school shooting myself at a young age, i still carry it with me to this day and it affects how i feel about crowds and small spaces. readers past is something i’ve had to deal with but thankfully there were no deaths in my experience. 

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist 

Frankie was seated at a booth in an empty diner. He had been sitting there alone for hours, staring into the mug of black coffee the waitress was kind enough to refill before it was truly empty. After the third time, she had brought over a plate of toast, to help settle his stomach. It was late, well past midnight.

Midnight. Midnight.

He could’ve sworn he was supposed to be somewhere, but his mind was so foggy from the hours-long conversation he had with someone he had never thought he would encounter again. They had gone in circles, only to come to a mutual understanding of what happened. But it still didn’t take any of the emotions away; if anything it had brought them all back to the surface. There was so much pain, remorse, regret, weakness, desperation filling him to the brim and his mind had flowed out along with what he couldn’t handle. Down the river and into the whitewash that was the rapids of his life. One mistake after another, one bad move after another…

‘I just…I kinda like you and want to see where this goes beyond today?’

‘I’d be up for that, because I kinda like ya too.”

“Fuck!” Frankie stood with a jolt, rustling the table in front of him with the movement. He took his wallet out and fished out a bill, threw it down on the table before he peeled out of the diner.

-

A shuffling sound roused you from your deep sleep, but your eyes were still too heavy to open. You lifted your head from where it rested on your arms atop your pillow. You had collapsed onto the bed on your stomach, hips canted up slightly as your legs spread in a way to relieve tension on your injury and you had scrunched a pillow underneath your arms and laid your head atop them. Your hair was loose and long around your face, fanning out over your bare shoulders. There was the sound of the cats chittering at someone and you lifted your head up more to peer through the open bedroom door. You saw the shadow of someone standing in your living room through bleary eyes.

The shadow moved a bit and the bill of a cap was visible. You deflated back into the mattress, knowing you were safe, and sleep curled its tendrils around your mind and pulled you back under. You hummed into the quiet as you felt warm arms wrap around your middle. One had moved underneath you, brushing the bare skin of your chest in passing as the other laid gently on your back. You felt a nose nuzzle into your hair, near your neck and a gentle kiss was placed there before a head rested on the pillow beside you. Legs carefully situated around yours, skin on skin where they touched just slightly.

“Lo siento, estoy aquí ahora, cariño.”

You were already too far down underneath the hold of sleep, a quiet murmur leaving your lips at the words before you were out completely.

Frankie lay there, down to his shirt and briefs. He cuddled around you as close he could without agitating your injuries or waking you up completely. Guilt and shame eating away at him in the darkness of your room. He watched the shadows of the cats as they jumped up and settled around you both for some sleep themselves. A sigh heaved itself into its chest and caught, choking him as he realized you felt good in his arms. You were good. He was good with you. You were good together.

-

The sun was just beginning to rise for the day, casting gentle light into the bedroom where it seeped in from the other rooms of your space. Frankie lay awake, his mind not letting him fall into a slumber that was really sleeping. He was watching the way your lashes fluttered as you dreamt in your sleep, you had been snoring lightly, though he was sure you would deny it should he feel like he could tease you about it. Words and apologies and reasons flitted across his mind, mentally exhausting him as he had no clue what to actually say to you once you were awake. He had seen the bottle of vodka, emptied, on the coffee table. He had seen the bottle of your pain medication next to it. The smooth cursive of your writing turned messy and illegible to him on a notepad beside them both, recipes and ideas for the bakery scribbled out in your altered state.

You had numbed yourself in his absence.

Because of his absence. When he had specifically promised his time to you.

But it had been the page that had been torn out and crumpled that worried him the most, thrown in what he could only picture was a moment of overwhelming emotion. It had been on the floor, beside your dead phone, halfway under the coffee table. The words ‘I’m sorry’ scribbled all over the page, filling it until there was no space with overlapping letters. The words of Tom echoing in his ears, ‘Kids tend to end up in graves around her’.

Frankie worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his heart stuttering and his chest getting tight when you shifted in your sleep with a tiny huff. Your face scrunched up in a rather adorable way before a sneeze racked your body. What wasn’t adorable was the spray of blood that resulted from the sneeze. With a rather loud groan you were opening your eyes and bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose to stop any flow of blood that may follow.

“Fuck,” You shimmied from the blankets, oblivious to the man beside you. Frankie had moved away from you in the night, especially when you had begun to shift a lot, seemingly unable to get comfortable. You were rushing to the joined bathroom and Frankie averted his eyes at your naked form. He wasn’t sure were you stood, where he stood….

The sound of the water was a quiet hush that allowed him to recenter. The blood spotting his face was cold, the spray of it causing unwanted memories to blip in his mind but he pushed them down. He was safe in your room, safe in your bed, safe with you. He startled when you called his name, bringing him out of his thoughts.

You watched him from the doorway to the bathroom, arms pulling on an oversized t-shirt. He could see the flash of tan lace you had pulled up your legs to cover yourself and he felt a strike of arousal. You slowly made your way back to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge of it, eyes on him the whole time.

Your face felt weird from the sneeze and your mind foggy from the night before, but you were sure you weren’t hallucinating the handsome man in your bed. The one that had stood you up for your date last night. Your heart was torn between being angry that he had made such a big deal about showing you how serious he was about this then bailing and wanting to melt at the prospect of him using the key for the first time and slipping into bed with you.

You didn’t say anything as you leaned over him a little, placing a hand on his chest to balance yourself as you reached over with a damp washcloth and wiped the blood from his face with the other. Your skin tingled where your hand rested on him, despite only feeling the heat of him through the shirt. His eyes tried to catch yours but you ducked your head as a deep blush rose to your cheeks. You were about to pull the washcloth away from him but a hand came up to grasp your wrist gently.

He didn’t say anything as he brough his other hand up and notched a finger underneath your chin to tilt it up. His brown eyes caught the light and turned amber in the morning sun, causing your already fast heartbeat to pick up at the sight of this beautiful man in your bed. His eyes were worried, as you chanced making contact with your own. You could feel tears race down your cheeks as you watched the emotions swirl in the brown depths. You were overwhelmed, your own emotions a whirlwind.

“Tell me you didn’t change your mind,” Your words were whispered, your fear of breaking the moment all too real. Vulnerability winning out against the anger and worry and had turned into hurt. Tears continued to fall, your face growing hot with them and your breathing beginning to shift into a weird staccato as you tried to keep yourself together. “Please tell me, Frankie, please tell me you still want me.”

When he was silent for a beat too long, you were ducking your head, eyes clenching shut and you drew in a shuddering breath. You had never felt so willing to ask such a question, for once you didn’t dwarf your needs and worries in favor of someone else. You’d reached your melting point and you needed to know if redemption was possible. Because you wanted it, by god did you want it, to be redeemed and feel like you were worthy of good things. Of being good with the man who made you feel like you hadn’t in a long time. To be wanted by him just as much as you wanted him.

During a time past, you might consider this pathetic, but circumstances change. People change you, people become more important than coming across as weak and vulnerable, the love you have for people changes you.

“I need to-“

He swallowed the rest of your words as he kissed you, his tongue delving into your open mouth and tangling with your own. Both of his hands came to cup your face, his fingers light on your cheeks and you melted into him. You kissed him back fully, taking what he was willing to give. Worried it was fleeting.

When he pulled back, he had tears of his own shining in his eyes.

“Of course I want you. Oh, sweet girl, you’re one of the only things I’ve ever wanted this much.”

Your heart swelled at his words, warmth flooding your entire body and making you feel wanted. But his actions had wounded you, brought up feelings of inadequacy, and while realistically a part of your brain knew it wasn’t intentional, it did send a message. It did lend to facts that had to be faced, questions that had to be answered. For both your sake.

“Then….then why do you make me feel like you don’t?” You couldn’t look at him, gently leaning back from him, your hands wringing in your lap. Frankie sat up from the pillows, reached out and pulled you to lay along his side. It took a minute for you both to get comfortable, his right arm around you as you leaned heavily into his side with your head resting high on his chest. His hand traced up and down your back smoothly, comforting. “I understand, please don’t mistake that, but…I just, I just need reassurance and I know that’s too much for some people and I-“

“No, no, sweet girl. It’s just that…I’m bad at this, I realize that. But please don’t let it make you feel like I don’t want this.” He sighed, jostling you with his breath. “I know words are just words, but querida, I really do care about you.”

“You stood me up, I called and texted and felt so foolish.” You hid your face in his chest, smelling the scent of him that was a combination of something woodsy and warm. Reminiscent of early autumn hikes in the forest, it smelled like home. “I feel like a damn fool, Frankie…I waited up for hours, wondering if you were okay…”

“I wasn’t okay. I’m still not okay. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay, sweet girl.”

“You will be, you are.” You reached a hand out and gripped his free one that had been resting on his middle. You intertwined your fingers with his own, his hand dwarfing yours. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as you contemplated your next words. Not wanting to make him feel seen or that he was transparent with the things he was hesitant to share with you. “Recovery isn’t linear.”

“…you know.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, an understanding. He knew that you knew. You knew about the parts of him that he tried to hide and cradle in his own hands, that he tried to resolve in the form of swapped vices and managing triggers. He worried for a second, panicked really, that you were about to tell him that it was something you could help him with. While it would be appreciated, he didn’t want to drag anyone down with the gritty details of what exactly he dealt with.

Of course you knew he was in recovery, you had seen it enough times out in the field, with your friends, with your family. His triggers, the smoking having replaced some other vice, the way his nose would twitch when he was agitated, the way his fingers would tap when he was anxious. The meetings he wouldn’t tell you details about, the way he was hesitant with certain foods, with certain places. The way he devoured anything sugary and inhaled fruit anytime it was in front of him.

All signs of someone fighting a battle that would take the rest of their life to overcome. You had been present and a part of the recovery when the battle was lost, both on the clock and off…

“Frankie, I was an EMT for a decade. I didn’t want to pry because you hadn’t said anything, and your business is your own. I’m not one to shoulder their way into anything, I’ve been humbled beyond comprehension on that, believe me.” Self-depreciation saturated your words, turning them bitter in your mouth. You weren’t brave enough to glance up and peak at Frankie’s expression, but you felt him tense up as you lay against him.

Your name sounded in the air, bathed in a tone you had yet to hear from him. You tensed at it, not sure what was going to happen next.

“It’s not an excuse. I was getting you flowers down the way last night when Alexia’s mother approached me. Didn’t even know she was still in town after all these years. She spooked me to hell and back, my mind went blank. Nothing was anything and before I knew it, I was running.”

“Frankie, you don’t…”

“I do, I do have to. I want to. I want you to know.”

You pushed your cheek into his chest, hiding your face. Not sure if you were ready for what he was going to say. Would she want to be a part of his life now? Would she want to see her child? Frankie’s daughter was only someone you interacted with once, but you weren’t willing to share her with the woman who walked out on her. You weren’t willing to experience the heartbreak it would bring Frankie to share her.

You listened. You took what he wanted to say and you held it close. You grasped it and kneaded it into yourself the way you worked bits of chocolate and fruit into dough. You folded the hard pieces of him into yourself and took them on, helping to soften the burden of them. You gave them a smoother edge so that he could handle them easier.

He explained the last night he had her, what her name was. He explained the challenge of attempting to raise Alexia together and get clean at the same time, how it was easier for him to let go of the substance than it was for her even throughout her pregnancy. That she never seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of their child and what they created together. He told you how he had offered her his hand in marriage and how she had said no.  

How determined he was to be a good father, to provide everything for his child. To offer her anything she might want or need or even think about in her life, how he wanted to be able to give her the time he had to devote to work in order to prove to her.

“Our bill was settled when I dropped her off yesterday.”

Your hand had been tracing patterns across the fabric of his shirt stretched over his chest. You fingers stilled for the barest of seconds before continuing their movement but you were aware that he caught the action. There was a question in his words that you knew was aimed directly at you, he was looking for confirmation of a hunch he had. You hummed a curious sound, knowing you weren’t fooling anyone.

“Thank you,” He murmured lowly, his chin resting atop your head for a moment before he laid it back against the pillow.

“…I wanted to.” You spoke carefully, unsure if you had stepped over a line. “You said you were worried about the bill and how she was so excited. That you didn’t want to let her down and her miss out on being away with her whole class.”

“She drew you something, we brought it the other day before everything hit the fan. I brought it with me, it’s on your fridge.”

“She’s sweet. Thoughtful like her father.”

“She’s a lot of things I’m not too. And so genuine in them. So understanding and forgiving, so easy going. So eager to try new things and to get out of her comfort zone.” He fell silent. You could sense he was thinking something over. He clicked his tongue before his next words. “I told her about you. About liking you and taking you out on a date.”

“Oh?” This curious sound was genuine. You felt your heartbeat quicken at his words, nervous.

“She was so excited she wouldn’t have to give up treats from the bakery because I would be dating someone else and was sure you’d be upset about it.”

“She is smart. I would definitely cut you off from treats if you dated someone else.” You quipped, words holding no real heat as you chuckled at the stern look you pictured her pinning him with as they talked this over. He huffed a quiet laugh.

You listened as he told you how he lost his license, due to his addiction. How it scorned him to this day that he let it take such control over his life and how sometimes it’s all he wanted still. You were quiet, letting him get it all out, not pressuring him with comments and thoughts you had in response. How he worked so hard to get it back and took every class and course they offered him to keep up to date with protocol and regulations, so he could keep flying the way he always wanted to.

You cuddled closer to him, trying to melt into him as he talked, offering him comfort in a quiet way as spoke. His voice would crack every so often as emotion got to be too much for him. He would clear his throat and hold your back firm so as to not jostle you too much when he did so. He fell quiet and you both just took the moment for what it was, not saying anything as you both processed the steps you were taking together.

“Tell me.” You felt his arm tighten around you, pulling you closer to him. A kiss was pressed to the top of your head. Followed by another and another, his facial hair hushing against your curls as he rested his face there. “You know about my worries. Tell me about yours. About what Tom was talking about, please. If you still want to, I’ll listen. I’m here, I’m with you, I’m trying. You have me.”

“You…you won’t like me anymore…”

Your name was a whisper, a plea.

“You, um, you heard the nurse mention a shattered hip?”

“I did, you were so overwhelmed, and I was not having the best day so I didn’t ask. I don’t like I’ve ever faced so many goddamn triggers in the same day as yesterday, but we’re focusing on you right now. You are important. You mean so much to me.” His hand trailed down to grip your waist, warmth seeping into you underneath it. It gave you the courage to continue, his quest reserve calming you. “I hadn’t wanted to get into anything heavy with both of us so worked up. I know better than that now, too much experience with doing the opposite.”

Quiet enveloped the room for a moment, the both of your just laying with each other. The morning sun rising and bringing light to the new day, revealing the world much the same way you were both revealing things about yourselves to each other. Memories and emotions flooded you, and you tried to concentrate on the best wording to explain the worst day of your life to someone who wanted to help you bear the weight of it.

“It got shattered when I got hit by a round from an automatic assault rifle. I was the first on the scene of a shooting and had run into the shooter in the building. I think we both startled each other. But he had the upper hand to my pistol.

He, uh… he was young, maybe late teens? I don’t even remember that now, it was about six or so years ago now. But I remember what he looked like, what he was wearing, the expression on his face…the blood splatter that marked his entire body. The squeak of his shoes as he ran down the halls of the building and stalked from room to room, leaving bloody footprints in his wake…

It was a school, an elementary school. I don’t remember the motive, I don’t remember the time of day the call happened, but I remember feeling the fear and anger emanating off of him, the heaviness of the air all throughout the building, it was suffocating. It was terrifying. I remember how warm the blood was as I tried to stop the bleeding on more than five children, only successful with two of them…

They were so panicked, they had been so scared, so worried about their parents and friends not knowing they loved them…. asked me to save them, to help them, but I couldn’t. Those guns do so much damage, they do too much damage to fix. I- I tried, I did everything I could, and it wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t enough, all of my training and all of my experience and I couldn’t save those kids while they begged me and pleaded with me to help them. It doesn’t matter how many people I had saved until that point, I had failed them, I didn’t do my job. I couldn’t do my job.

I was put on medical leave for the duration of my recovery, the shooter passed away during his. My shot had been placed well, but it had taken too long for him to succumb to it, allowing him to fire shots into two more classrooms before he collapsed. I needed multiple surgeries to repair my hip and ended up getting a replacement a year down the line. That’s why I don’t bear as much weight on it, it’s…foreign to have something so vital taken away from you and replaced in the wake of such an emotional tragedy.

I lost more than just a part of myself mentally that day, but physically as well. And it’s a constant reminder every time it twinges, or I feel the dull ache that never seems to quite go away.

I was put on suspension pending two investigations that went to trial. One from the shooter’s parents for wrongful death and one from the parents of one of the children I couldn’t save for failure to administer appropriate medical treatment. I got harassed and blamed for the death of the shooter who had done the killing and then called a killer myself. I had been painted in the same light as the shooter, as if I was the one that pulled the trigger and fired on those innocent children.

Everyone was looking to place the blame in the wake of his death. And it landed on me.”

You were crying, tears dampening the fabric of Frankie’s shirt. You felt your bottom lip trembling, sure you had stuttered over words and that your voice was an octave higher than normal. Your hands were shaking too, but Frankie had on in his grip and was holding it firm, his warmth seeping into you, grounding you as you shared with him the worst chapter of your life.

Your ears burned in the silence that followed your words. All you could hear was the blood rushing in your veins and the faded memories of gunfire. The gunfire hushed and was replaced with quiet murmurs of consolation from the man cradling you. Frankie pulled you carefully over to lay atop him completely, both of his arms wrapped tight around your frame. His chest was rising and falling in a way that mimicked yours, telling of the tears he was fighting back. You buried your face in his neck, hand going to rest over his beating heart to ground you.

Your name fell from his lips as he buried his own face into your hair.

-

It was hours later, you having trusted the shop to Louise for the day. You had baked enough stock for her to get through yesterday and today, business picking up enough to warrant double batches of everything. You had an untouched Sunday paper from the past week on the kitchen island, secured underneath the leather journal you kept all your recipes in. You admitted to Frankie over getting coffee brewed that you were afraid of reading the blurb that had been written about your bakery in the article about the first summer farmer’s market. The second had gone as well as the first. You had more applicants, more business, more interest in the things you created and were willing and happy to share with the world.

He carefully pulled you into his arms and leaned against the counter, the sound of the coffee pot brewing turning into background noise. You had been feeding the cats their dry food, their chittering and meows filling the air in such a domestic way. Your back was warm against his chest and he reached for the paper to hold it in front of both of you. He read the words printed on the pages to you, his lips close to your ear as he did so. The praises printed in ink felt were comforting coming from his lips, his smooth voice giving them life that you refused to give them yourself. He placed the paper back down on the counter and made sure it was safely tucked back so as to not get ruined. His arms came back around you and he spun you so you were facing him.

He was about to say something but you leaned up and captured his lips with your own. Your hands coming around his shoulders. Before you could register where his own were wrapping underneath your bottom, he was lifting you to carefully set you on the island. He leaned into your space, delving his tongue into your open mouth and pulling a moan from your chest. His fingers trailed featherlight paths across your skin underneath your shirt. Sparking warmth and tingles in their wake.

You took a moment to catch your breath before you mouthed at the hinge of his jaw, tongue trailing the shell of his ear. You placed sucking kissed down the column of his neck and revealed in the feeling of him hardening against you where he was pressed to you as closely as possible. He vocalized his appreciation at your attention, his hands continuing their exploration and coming to thumb at your nipples.

You arched into him even more, a gasp smothered into his heated skin.

“I’m falling for you.”

All you could do was hide the wide grin that broke out over your face in his neck, tightening your arms around his neck.

“I’m going to take you against this counter and then again in your bed. We’re going to go to the store to get stuff for dinner and I’m going to take you back to mine. Where I’ll take you again and again until you’re satisfied.” His words rumbled in your ear, causing pleasure to settle between your legs and you tightened your thighs around his waist, grinding yourself against him.

“I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me, over….and over….and over again.”

He kissed you deeply, again and again until the coffee was finished brewing. He stepped away to ready two cups and handed you one. He watched as you cupped both hands around the ceramic, taking his own in one and bringing it up to sip. He reached out and trailed his index finger along the front seam of your underwear as he bracketed himself back between your dangling legs. Your eyes widened and you whimpered into your cup at the pleasure that sparked. Legs opening more as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Just enjoy your coffee, sweet girl. Let me take care of you.” He was placing his own mug back down on the counter. Watching the way you watched him as he lowered himself to his knees. He leaned close and licked a hot line to mimic his finger just seconds before. His large hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, his tongue hard and flat against the front of your underwear. He looked up at you, seeing the way your fingers were white where they gripped your coffee. He pulled away for the barest of seconds.

“Drink, sweet girl. And I’ll do the same.”

previous chapter || next chapter 

taglist:

@tanzthompson @clevergirl74

[opinated-user]

Sort of a nuanced take so bear with me here-- I honestly think its a little weird that you obsessively post about every trans woman that happens to be poorly behaved. Not saying that Lily Orchard, Sophie Labelle, whoever this Poppy person is aren't doing bad things. It's just I don't know kind of strange that you have a blog all about documenting trans woman misbehavior as a non-binary person. Speaking as a trans woman you come off as transmisogynistic some times. I'm sorry it is. The only people who's bad behavior you post about are trans women. That's weird.

this blog started off talking about LO because i have seen evidence of her abusive/predatory actions to the point i felt worth talking about. she's the main focus.

P&Z came to the picture because they talked and responded to LO's lies about them. turns out they were abusive, as i have seen evidence myself and believed on their victims, and that felt worth talking about. especially since thanks to their videos on LO, the people who watched those and supported them deserve to know the kind of people who made them.

sophie labelle is a big name in trans/progressive spaces. massive even. i was a fan of her work and supported it fully until everything to do with using a irl toddler for lewd furry diaper art came out. i have only ever brought her up on that post in months to make an example of LO having a bigger issue with queer acceptance and usage than with pictures of irl babies being used for porn, so it was relevant.

EssenceOfThought made videos following on LO and then was unabled to continue doing them out of her own circunstances, so that clearly was relevant for this blog. she apologized to both Brittany and me in private for not telling us about that earlier and i have absolutely no ill will towards her or Levi. i'll probably not going to talk about her again in this blog except to say just that.

regarding all of them, i have never, ever, encouraged or supported any kind of harrassment, misgendering or transphobia against them. if anyone has any issue with any of them they can quietly unfollow or unsub. on my pinned post i put link to sites where you can download videos from youtube without giving anyone views if so people want it, encouraging, once again, to not go after any of these people for any reason.

i'm sorry that existing on the internet as a trans woman means being constantly demonized for merely existing. being used constantly as an example of a predator when you haven't done anything to deserve it it's incredibly tought and demorilizing. nobody deserves that. i don't blame you one bit for having a negative reaction when seeing transfemme being called out precisely for that, because so many bad people are going to use that as fuel to keep believing all transfemmes are the same and i hate that, i wish i could change it. for every transfemme that i discuss here i also met so many transfemme who were the sweetest, most considerate, smartest and kindest people that anyone can be.

but keeping quiet about these people is not an option either. it just isn't. they're bad people, dangerous people, who happen to have platforms where they have influence and power over vulnerable people, traumatized people, marginalized people who are desperate to feel safe somewhere. they're bad people because they chose to take advantage of the trust put on them, because they manipulated, lied and abused, not because they're trans women, and if i ever implied that then i'll dennounce it because that couldn't be further from the truth.

these people should never be used as any kind of example of how trans women are. they just happen to be trans. anyone using my blog or anything on it to further that narrative is no ally of mine and i'll block them whenever possible. if there's anything else you think i could do, please let me know.

[mythsandheather]

I've been pretty curious about the LO Critical side. I'm asking genuinely but what are the reasons why LO has such a strong anti Fandom.

Do people not like it? I was curious because it seems like a lot of lo critical/anti lo blogs seem to enjoy certain aspects and characters. Is it the author people don't enjoy?

Like I said I'm really being genuine. I think people have the right to have like their own critical space for a free webcomic. It's just interesting because it's like. This Fandom has a second Fandom of people who seem to hate the comic.

The anti community for any fandom is sure to be a complex place that’s usually, in my experience, more built on pain and disappointment than anything else. Pain because something important to you no longer provides comfort, maybe even perpetrates harmful themes for your own personal experiences, and disappointment because this is something you used to love and you wish could be better.

There’s two parts of the anti community for LO. There’s one part that, as you said, still holds some affection for the series, for memories attached to it and for some characters. There’s also another part that, again as you said, straight up just hate it.

I’ll briefly touch on the first part. They can see so clearly how LO could be infinitely better and that’s frustrating. They can see all the flaws they didn’t notice or didn’t want to see before and are exasperated by why it’s allowed to continue this way. Let’s not forget that a significant number of LO’s critics are people who were young teens and read it in their formative years without realising what they were being so carelessly exposed to.

With that realisation, there’s a level of anger and horror at learning what was put in front of them, marketed as safe and heavily promoted at every turn, and it’s only gotten worse over time. That must be an absolutely gut-wrenching thing to feel over something you loved once.

So in that sense, you’re correct; a big part of the anger comes down to Rachel herself and her choices.

Then there’s the other part of the anti fandom, the part that just out and out hates it and always has. This is where yours truly fits in.

Now, I was super active on tumblr during 2014-2017, when fandoms like Steven Universe, FNAF and Undertale were at their peak. I had to learn, trial by fire, how to be real critical of any media I consumed. There is certainly a downside to this, I tend to see the negatives of anything I enjoy first and then find positives later. The upside is it’s certainly been one helluva way to improve my media literacy and spot the bs from a mile away.

A lot of people don’t believe when I say I got skeevy, uncomfortable, gross vibes from LO from chapter one, but I did. I don’t know what it was, but it set me off so bad that I couldn’t get past “her butt is shaped like a heart” and never read it again.

Now I’m willing to admit that this part of the fandom, like me, are the way we are because we were never the target demographic for LO.

Therefore, when it came out and got popular, we were the ones who were absolutely baffled and the ones who got dog piled and called every name under the sun by fans for a long time…that is, of course, until a lot of those fans grew up, realised what they were reading and turned on the series.

As I said, the critical side of any fandom is complicated and this is just my two cents.

I could do a much longer post about how fucking angry I am at Rachel personally for the fact she’s from my country, a country who constantly gets ignored, and given this amazing chance that so many of us wish we could have, yet chose to peddle her self insert x celebrity crush jailbait fantasy.

I could talk all day about how physically sickened I am that she’s taken so many aspects of trauma experiences by myself and millions of others and used it as ignorant, glamourised, fetishised shock-material.

I could go on at length about what a racist, misogynistic, homophobic piece of baggage she is and how she’s permanently done damage to another culture while completely misrepresenting ours…but I won’t.

I’ll just draw more mean art of Persephone’s giant lips and Hades accidentally letting the air out of them with his mosquito nose instead.

What’s Rachel going to do? Draw a goofy, technicolor caricature of me in her comic that’ll blend into the background, be only half finished and look like a recoloured Persephone in her otherwise pristine and totally professional looking masterpiece that’s definitely not losing readers? Oh wait—

[blizzardsuplex]

Roderick Strong Primer Part I: The Portion About Personal Connection

Part I (you are here) | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[So...I've been jokingly kicking around the idea of doing a series of meta posts on Roderick Strong for a while now. As usual with me, however, one late night conversation with @scissormedaddyass later it no longer stayed a joke.

This will be split into four parts: this one, where I talk about some of my personal experiences concerning his work (and PWG, because I can never get away from that promotion when talking about my faves ever); the second, which will dive into what I know of his history; the third, which will talk about his character arc - yes, even he has one - and finally a match guide, because by God he wrestles real good.

I'm not saying this'll be the most in-depth dive into his character and career in the world (for one I'm gonna miss a lot of early ROH and most NXT things), but until someone else makes one my little offering will have to do. If even just one person comes out of reading this understanding a little better the brainrot I occasionally have for him, then I think I did okay. Content itself under the cut!]

As I am sure absolutely no one who has talked to me about professional wrestling for longer than ten minutes knows, the promotion that made the greatest impact on me in my teen years was 2014 to 2016 Pro Wrestling Guerrilla (PWG). Beginning with night one of the 2014 Battle of Los Angeles that took place on August 29, 2014, I saw most of the shows they put out for a decent stretch, getting off the train after All Star Weekend 12's second night on March 5, 2016. It was there I saw the full potential of my first favorite wrestler, Chuck Taylor; there where I was first exposed to both talented up and comers like Speedball Mike Bailey and veterans like Chris Hero; there where I first saw the work of my favorite wrestler ever, Zack Sabre Jr.

In other words, for nearly two years it was my favorite promotion; as people well know, though, even as late as the mid-2010s it was not very easy to watch, and living half a world away with no credit card to pay for exorbitant shipping meant that to keep up to date I had to get extra creative. Knowing that I definitely wasn't going to be able to attend a live event, I followed what was happening as closely to real time as I could though social media posts, forum threads, and the occasional YouTube clips or official preview. As soon as news of the DVD releases dropped on the company's Twitter, I would Google search through pages of trash results for a couple of minutes every day until I found someone who'd uploaded the actual full event in glorious 240p and immediately watch it—more often than not, I knew, it would make my day.

I'm not saying PWG was perfect (God no). In fact, back then I don't know if, had I been more active in wrestling discussion circles, there would have been a safe space for someone like me. Still, spending all that time and effort to keep up and watch it was a really important time for me as a fan. It opened my eyes to how fun and creative pro wrestling could be, especially with the freedom independent status provided; sure, oftentimes it would be dizzying or even dangerous to give that kind of power to the wrestlers, and they lacked the multiple levels of safety and security that proper contracts provided, but there was just so much sheer entertainment I got from spots and shenanigans that would have never be cleared or work with the constraints of sponsors, copyright, or other corporate concerns. Making to suck your opponent's dick in the middle of the ring? An invisible remote that magically makes everyone, including the chanting fans, act in slow-mo? "The legendary asshole of Jushin Thunder Liger"? All hilarious, all fondly remembered. There's a reason that for years my top wrestling dream was to attend a show in Reseda—a dream that'll never be realized, but the Globe Theatre is a beautiful venue that seems to actually have working AC, so that's nice!

But, as mentioned: after Zack won the PWG title, a result I spoiled for myself via Reddit thread with much screaming, I stopped watching. It wasn't that I was any less interested in it—I was very much excited about the prospect of my boy on top, actually! It was simply that, between the sites I used all getting nuked and not knowing how to torrent, I just couldn't find it anymore. So I fell out of watching PWG, then the American and British indies, then NXT and what little main brand WWE I still watched, and finally I didn't watch much wrestling at all for two years, from 2016 to 2018. I only came back, actually, when I found out where my old fave Zack ended up: this large promotion called New Japan…

But that's a ZSJ story, and (as is hopefully clear from the title of this post) this series isn't about him. Instead, let's set the scene:

On July 29, 2016, two events and about four months after the last PWG I'd been able to watch, Roderick Strong had his last indie date before going to WWE. Having watched it back, the entire sendoff is pretty elaborate: after champion Zack fends off his latest challenger, Kyle O'Reilly, in a grueling 20+ minute match, Roddy comes down to the ring and demands his rematch. What follows is a less than six minutes breakneck fuckfest with several run-ins and foreign object usage; but, of course, Roderick loses. Afterwards, inviting his friends then that night's locker room down to the ring, he makes his speech about how in 2014 (which was, of course, the year I started watching) he'd made a commitment to reinvent himself as a wrestler—a move that ended up contributing to him being signed to NXT after a 15+ year career. He's thankful for everything PWG had given him, though (especially his then-fiance, now-wife Marina Shafir); as he says to cap things off, he loves the crowd, doesn't hate them!

Honestly, I wish I watched just two more events than I actually did back then, because it might have made my path to becoming a fan of Roderick Strong way more flattering to me. Instead, I have to admit: after Zack tapped him out for the belt and Roddy slunk off to the back, and for a long time during and after my two year break…I forgot about him.

It's a bit of an awful thing to say and is, on top of that, admittedly hyperbole; I never dumped anything of him in my brain down the memory hole. What I mean is that he never really came to mind unless I thought about it really hard. Even during my lull period, when people asked me about pro wrestling I could talk about my favorite people and my favorite moments and my favorite matches, and Roderick was never really there in anything more than a passing mention. In my defense, at first it was because I was even more of a massive hipster back then than I am now, and since I knew he was in NXT I assumed that when (not if; those were more innocent days) he'd go up to the main roster and get lots of fans he wouldn't need me vocally being one of them. Sure, he was probably going to be misused and I wasn't really going to watch to find out because this was 2016 WWE, but he'd at least get that money and that fame on Raw or Smackdown. Why wouldn't he? He was fucking Roderick Strong, a fantastic wrestler and someone I didn't realize for years people thought was bland as hell. Surely he'd make it. Surely.

But slowly and steadily he began to fade from my thoughts, until it came to the point that even after I started watching prowres again from 2018 and into the pandemic I didn't talk about him at all—even when I began looking back nostalgically on my time watching PWG.

Then, completely by chance, the week I decided to get back into All Elite Wrestling—I watched for a while in 2019, but lapsed during the pandemic era; it was hard enough to watch one major wrestling company with no crowds, much less two—was the week Roddy Strong debuted there. Buoyed by other people's excitement and name recognition, I felt generically happy watching the clips. "Oh, yeah," I said to myself. "Roderick Strong. What's he been doing for the past few years?" 

(Yes, I completely missed his Undisputed Era period, and was shocked at the belated news that he and everyone else in that faction never officially made it to the main roster. Yes, this also means I mostly know what happened thanks to Drea fighting the good fight with all her Era boys fics. No, I don't think I'm gonna watch his NXT run any time soon, LOL.)

After therefore deciding not to really dive into his recent past, I decided to, for the umpteenth time, think about when I first became familiar with him in that era of PWG…and something funny came about. If you're familiar with the trope called "Once More With Clarity", then that's what honest to God happened: eyes wide and memories superimposed above a shot of the aforementioned eyes at around 50% opacity, I realized that so many of my favorite moments and matches had him there the entire time. Person ZSJ won the belt from? Roddy. One of ZSJ's best matches until that point? When Roddy beat him the first time Zack challenged for the title. Speedball's real coming out party with the Reseda faithful? Them answering Roddy's open challenge at Mystery Vortex. That (in)famous, ridiculously overbooked, ridiculously memorable Guerrilla Warfare match at All Star Weekend 11? The heel aggressors was Mt. Rushmore 2.0, Roddy's faction with the Young Bucks and Adam Cole. Even outside of PWG, I ended up finding out he was involved in several other promotions I followed; I saw him several times in EVOLVE for instance, and what little Ring of Honor I watched Mr. ROH himself was, of course, there as well.

I'm probably forgetting something, but here's what I'm trying to get at: the more I combed through my good memories of pro wrestling the more I realized Roddy'd not only always been there, but that he was a key player in them, not just in matches but in the angles as a whole—and, yes, even promos, his forever dump stat. At the time it was all going on, I just…never really noticed him. And that's the story of much of his career, isn't it (at least in kayfabe)? Always considered an excellent hand, but even when he held the big belt he never seemed or felt like the most important person there.

"Okay," I then said to myself those months ago. "So he's a great wrestler. He's in all these great things I like, wrestling-wise. But who is he, really? Is there enough for me or anyone else to chew on from a character perspective?"

The fact I'm dedicating a four part series to this man, along with all the GIFsets and fanfic I've made, might spoil my answer to that. But for now, brave reader who's actually read all of this (or clever reader who's skipped to the end), stay a little in suspense for a bit if you’d like while I write part two. :')

[npd-creature]

| no name | he/him (not cis) | 21 | SEasian |

NPD (+other disorders) eldritch creature that takes the form of some guy (and wien mar/ga/rete lo/ve li/ve)

aroallo + romance repulsed. dont flirt with me i will block you. nsfw acc interaction is ok idc but don't rb my vents

my account is a safe space for the mentally ill of any variety except for whatevers in my dni. I try to read carrds and dni's when I can/have the energy to.

i like talking about whatevers on my mind in regards to my npd or observations about the world around me with npd in mind, my thoughts are blunt and honestly quite harsh but its not directed at anyone in particular. i sometimes talk about fetish-related topics but not in graphic detail (still, these posts will be tagged). i appreciate honesty and clarity when being talked to.

i dont follow people because this is a sideblog. i stalk the npd tag all the time for new posts to make up for it

not in medical recovery but always trying to work on myself

---

DNI: minors, radqueers, transid/endos, """narc abuse""" believers, sh/ed blogs, "murd/er/sim" fans (im no "anti" i just think youre all annoying edgy pricks), shipcourse people (youre all annoying too), egotypicals and other non-pwpd's (my posts aren't for you), yandere/pd romanticization blogs

everyone else who isnt on here that i also dislike but cant be bothered to list, read the room. if the vibe is off, then leave.

[stars-n-spice]

Ask game! 6, 20, 30, 38 pls 🌑

Of course! Thank you for sending the ask :D

6: Which Batcher would you want to be your coworker at your irl job?

I am unfortunately unemployed,, lmao. Technically a full-time student and a housemaid so if we're going off that then I would say I'd want Echo to be my 'coworker' because I think he'd be more than willing to give a helping hand (or scomp, lol) when and if I should need it. But if we're talking like what I hope to be doing in the future which is whatever thing that has to do with screenwriting, teaching, or creative writing; I'm going with Tech. I think Tech and I would get along very well because we're both on the spectrum and we could just like parallel play and be cool with just that.

20: Which Batcher has the 'weirdest' taste in music?

Unrelated note, Echo is a k-pop fan and I'll die on this hill (and he's a Broadway fan). I think the person who has the 'weirdest' taste in music is probably Tech and I say 'weirdest' in the sense that he will listen to whatever genre. He simply does not care. You shuffle his liked songs and you feel like you're having a stroke. It's a mix of old dad rock that Hunter and Wrecker enjoy, it's the punk and emo shit Crosshair listens to, there's some old/first-gen K-pop in there, he listens to Los Panchos and Vicente Fernández. County? Sure, why not? He's a big fan of Beyoncé. He knows all the words to Rap God. He listens to Broadway songs and game OSTs. Omega makes him listen to those fan songs of video games. Catch him crying and listening to Mitski at 3 am in the morning. I could go on and on.

30: Tell me a random headcannon you have about Omega.

A random headcanon I have about Omega is that she has a good night routine. Like the book "Goodnight Moon" before she hits the hay she says goodnight to anything and everything. Of course she starts out with her brothers–"Good night Hunter. Good night Echo. Good night Tech. Good night Wrecker."–Then she goes on her personal items and Gonky–"Good night Lula. Good night trooper. Good night Gonky."–Then the ship and surrounding things–"Good night Marauder. Good night stars. Good night planets."–and then when everything is said and done and everything is silent she'll stare out into space and whisper, "Good night Crosshair."

38: What color do you associate with each Batcher?

Ooh, this is a fun one! Honestly, my answers are super basic, but eh. For Hunter, it's red, mainly because he's the squad leader and one of the main colors of the squad is red so automatically he gets that. While he does look good in teal, I think red's his color. For Echo it's a deep blue, mainly because of his time spent with the 501st but also because it's a calming color and Echo is just someone you'd want to be around to feel calm and safe. For Wrecker it's yellow; the color I associate with any positive/bubbly character for obvious reasons, but also it's my sister's favorite color and she's the sweetest person ever so I think it's a fitting color. It's a warm color and I'm sure he gives warm hugs <3 For Tech it's oranges/browns. Typically I tend to associate purple with 'smart' characters because of Donatello from TMNT, but orange/brown is just a more fitting color for Tech and I can't really describe why. Maybe it's the s2 armor? For Crosshair it's green because of his Imperial armor and I guess also because it symbolizes growth? In a sense? Also it's not one of my favorite colors, lol. For Omega, I associate her with teal colors. Something like the ones on her outfit from S1 but also because I love her so much and teal is my favorite color as well.

Here is the ask list if ya'll want to send me more asks ^^

[canichangemyblogname]

Movie Review: RW&RB

Score: 2.5/5 ⭐ Conclusion: Yaoi Fanfiction strikes again Recommendation: do not watch WC: 1730

I will credit Casey McQuiston, the author of Red White & Royal Blue, for writing a book where coming out is depicted as something that can be stressful and daunting but not life-endangering. Her story actually focused on what Alex and Henry’s relationship would mean for history, each other, and their respective countries. These two characters actually grappled with what it means to be queer and in the public eye. They contemplated the erasure of queerness from history and struggled with the (false) choice between making history and being their authentic selves. In the book, both characters took time to discover what they wanted out of life and their relationship in a way that felt genuine. Alex exploring his queer identity felt organic and unique to his background and social position.

However, the book Red White & Royal Blue is prone to conventionality, cliche, dull and brusque dialogue, and heavy-handed political references (oh, the emails). The book features uncreative and baffling political conflict that could rival the taxation treaty debacles in The Phantom Menace, and it reveals the author’s inexperience with the subtleties of U.S. and U.K. history and politics. Additionally, the book's happy resolution feels underdeveloped. The characters got their happily ever after before the dust settled. It felt like the author slapped a bandage over the very-real relationship hurdles Alex and Henry had yet to work through.

Fortunately, the book was written to be a fun, queer rom-com rather than a serious work of fiction with a profound political message. It’s frivolous. It’s charming. The Los Angeles Review of Books called it "calorie-free." Unfortunately, the movie exacerbates the book's faults. The movie’s story is conventional and cliche in the worst possible ways. It tells a shallow and uninspiring story. The writing and performances will not leave the audience with many deep or complicated thoughts about the pressures of conformity, the harms of assumptions, or the benefits of safe spaces to come into one's "self." There was no message to sit with and contemplate when the credits rolled. It's perfectly forgettable. RW&RB is not a story that will stick in your mind or leave behind a profound legacy. In fact, the whole movie feels a little like a series of product placements for condoms and lube. Oh, and PrEP. 

Virality leaves no place for nuance, so those online break stories into small and often context-less moments: a series of gifs and a set of expressions. People hyper-focus on a particular moment— often one that is emotional or intimate— in which they wish to be in one of the character's shoes. They want an image or video that can be circulated rapidly and widely that, when separated from its context, allows any meaning or emotion to infuse with the imagery. RW&RB, the movie, delivers on that, and only that. It was made for the virality of the contextless moment where viewers can imprint their wants, desires, and feelings onto the scene. That's why movie promotion consisted primarily of 30-second clips of intimacy and emotional stills, and that's why the movie’s continued hype is primarily seen in a series of fan cams of the characters where their gazes, touches, tears, and smiles are reserved not for each other, but the viewer.

As a result of this hollow, context-less production, Red White & Royal Blue is formulaic and hackneyed, lacks personality, and its plot has been stripped of the messaging and the mental and emotional conflict which redeems the book. Compared to the book, the movie attempted to dedicate one, maybe two scenes to the importance of privacy and coming into your own on your own time in a space and environment where it is safe to explore identity. However, these scenes come too late and have no prior development. For those unfamiliar with the characters, the scenes feel out of place, and the concerns the characters raise in these scenes seem to come out of left field. When Alex confronts Henry about ghosting him near the end of the movie, I half expected Henry to mention something about Alex not keeping things casual enough because he can only “belong” to Alex momentarily, as this is all they had previously discussed. I was not expecting Galitzine to give a very heartfelt monologue about the pressures of politics and existing in the public eye as a queer man because the movie had forgotten to provide us with Henry’s motivations and main goals at any point previously. Production cut too much from book plot lines that focused on the main characters finding themselves and figuring out what they want, leaving them unable to develop the primary conflict later in the story. If the book is calorie-free, the movie is devoid of any nutrition.

The lack of depth leaves this movie feeling more like a Hallmark movie, a Disney Channel Original, or even the intro scene of a porno where everyone is talking and still has their pants on. It’s bland, and the acting certainly did not add any flavor. Zakhar Perez’s performance comes straight out of a Nickelodeon special. As Rachel Handler put it in Vulture, his performance oscillates between “Overtrained Child Star and Did Somebody Order a Big Sausage Pizza.” Gone is the nerdy, studious, earnest, and politically impressive Alex from the book, replaced by an arrogant, cheesy, ripped frat boy. On the exact other end of the spectrum is one of the few decent performances in the movie. Galitzine brought his dramatic background to a tonally inconsistent movie, making him feel out of place for the production quality and the genre and leaving me to wonder why the hell he took this role. And do not get me started on Thurman’s interpretation of a Texas accent.

This story felt rushed and stiff, and the character’s relationships and interactions felt forced and artificial. The production struggles with lackluster writing, exemplified by painfully cliche dialogue (and I thought the blunt dialogue of the book was bad). The story lacks a consistent tone, trying for a somber, serious, and heartfelt tone in a few scenes toward the end, something which felt very out of place for the Hallmark-esque camp of the rest of the story. It's as if the director and writers forgot the genre they were creating for. Scenes intended to be endearing were often flat and stale, while intimate and heart-wrenching scenes were painfully awkward, worsened by a seeming lack of post-production editing that left the characters blinking at each other on screen and very strange lighting decisions that left every scene so bright they bordered on overexposed. The movie has the same quality but none of the personality of a free YouTube movie, exemplified by insipid green-screen backgrounds and visual effects. The sets were tiny, the wardrobe uninspiring, and the crowds were eerily devoid of extras.

RW&RB’s terrible portrayal of U.S. and U.K. politics is emblematic of its significant writing, messaging, and direction issues. No one involved in the production understands how an election is run or how British society operates. Why was the first family involved in developing campaign strategies and discussing them on state time with the White House Chief of Staff? What was that mess of an electoral map featured at the end of the movie? (First, discussing a campaign on state time is a crime. Second, the President and Chief of Staff do not handle the development of campaign strategies. Third, a Democrat has not lost Minnesota since ’72, and if they were to lose Minnesota, the election would look more like ’72, where 49 of the 50 states voted for Nixon.) Who allowed a member of the Royal Family to appear at the DNC, practically endorsing the Democratic candidate, and later join her on stage for her acceptance speech? Where are the British tabloids? What is a Hanover-Stuart (also: how and why)? How many times would this movie call the third-in-line for the throne the Prince of Wales and the heir? The British government is homophobic, but the US is a bastion of progressiveness? Texas, blue? MSNBC???

These inaccurate and inadequate depictions of real-world issues and historical systems ultimately distract from the fact that this movie makes no commentary on queerness in modern politics despite that being a theme of the book. This movie critically lacks notice of the social, historical, and political nuances of male same-sex attraction or queerness in U.S. and U.K. politics. So much so that I would go so far as to say the movie is tone-deaf. For example, the main antagonist from the book— a homophobic Republican politician prone to abusing his power— is replaced by a mean, jealous ex-partner who is also a queer Latino and a political reporter. An example of tyranny was replaced by a political minority whose job is a pillar of democracy. 

The main characters’ relationship is “gay” only insofar as they're both men, but their relationship often seems to lack queerness. Director Matthew López described the movie as one of the most expensive fan fictions ever made. (What did that money go into because it could not have been the CGI?) The fan fiction tropes the movie employs— enemies to friends to lovers, royalty AU, forced companionship, relationship of convenience, mutual pining, etc.— don't just make the story devoid of any real human connection but also seem to "tame" the characters into a new set of social boxes. It's like these tropes provide an "acceptable" reason to be gay and, in the process, erase a man's queerness so he's gay only in ways that heterosexual people or heterosexist society can imagine. The movie filters queerness through a heterosexual lens and replaces one set of social conventions with another. The main characters become escapist fantasies that are just bland enough for straight women to project onto and conventional enough not to be offensive. Because this movie is escapism and self-indulgence for the straight audience, it has a very narrow view of how queer relationships should be. It's also the perfect escapism for straight women because no woman is featured in the relationship. No woman has to have her heart broken. No woman has to confront social taboos. No woman has to risk anything. It's just two hot guys. I keep returning to what Jackson McHenry said in Vulture: "It smacks of all the tropes of Yaoi-style stories written about gay men.”

I also still cannot figure out what warranted the R rating in this movie.

[ajoytobeheld]

Ellen: it's been an awfully big adventure

December 7th, 2012

I don’t know how to start this, other then diving right in so….I’ll dive.

It is with a sad face I have to report that I am leaving Los Campesinos!. The show on the 15th of December in London will be my last, and I shall spend it struggling not to cry. Please don’t point out my tears if you come along. Simply pretend it is eye sweat.

Over the last seven years I have been blessed, not by God, because he doesn’t exist, but with opportunities and a life I will not fully appreciate until I am about forty-five. I will look back at old photos of the band, with our smooth skin and questionable hair, and go “fuck me. That was mental.”

The past and present members of Los Campesinos! have been my family for the last seven years and seen me at my lowest, my highest, my most angry, sad, happy, broken, fixed, grown up and immature. They have seen me fail, succeed, let myself and them down, learn the hard way, but they have also seen me grow. And they have always had my back, and I hope, I sincerely hope, I have done my best to have theirs.

There is not a terribly exciting reason for me leaving, (so please start some exciting rumours), I am just going to try something new. Fulfil my ambitions of becoming a failed writer and developing a opium habit. It’s all going to be very retro. I leave with the upmost love and support from the band, but I have requested my replacement not be too cool.

I would say I am sad to go, but that is too simple a word for the variety of emotions I have swimming around my head right now. I am sad, but mostly I am drowning in warm and happy flashbacks, vinaigrette images of us all laughing in the van on long drives across America. Joe Puleo, tour manager, at the front telling a story, Jason playing quizmaster and hosting a game of “Guess the Song,” from an app he has downloaded, and we all scream out responses. Rob taking photos of the scenery on his lomo, Neil watching gangster epics on his laptop, and maybe later on this long long drive Paul and Tom will play Tiger Woods Golf whilst I work out how long I can hold my bladder for before requesting we stop. I was the most frequenter pee needer on long drives. I am not ashamed of this. I owned it.

I felt warm and safe on those drives, listening to everyone tell stories, share experiences, make each other laugh. I am lucky to have shared a hotel room with so many exceptional ladies over the years, Aleks, Harriet and especially Kim, who shared my fear of the cold, love of porridge and put up with my ability to make a mess in any room in under 5 seconds. Starting and ending the day together, we did some good chatting.

I have seen a lot of this world, and I didn’t have to go on a gap year to do it. I have travelled across the breadth and depth of the US and the UK and I have seen a lot of different faces, and sampled a lot of backstage humus.I have seen a lot of graffitied backstage cocks.

I have met and worked with countless wonderful, interesting and horrifically talented people inside the industry, inside the venues, inside the recording studie and inside our practice space. (I won’t gush too much about how talented the people in the band are, you might get diabetes from my sincerity, but it has been a pleasure and a privilege to play the music that Tom writes.)

Also fans. Fans are awesome. You made it possible for us record an album in Seattle. To play a show outside of Wales. To play in a baseball stadium in Japan. A haunted restaurant in Santa Cruz. a handful of US universities and see Mexico! I saw Mexico! You girls and guys are truly humbling, and I hope I never took you for granted too much. I probably did. Thank you for knowing the words, for bringing cakes, and books, and t-shirts, and comics, and buying us drinks and for waiting and driving miles and cheering and clapping. For reading or watching or listening to anything we have ever done. Thanks. You kept us going and will continue to be the life blood of the Los Campesinos! family.

I was trawling through old photos trying to find the best one to represent a start and an ending, but I got lost in old memories and the process of ageing.

(God we looked young, look at our skin! Look at our clothes! Cardigans and ripped up Distillers t shirts, oh I still have that.)

I have eons of photos of the band at the start, at rehearsals, house parties, with experimental hair, (mine black, Gareth long and wispy, Neil’s fringe nearly covering his eyes and Tom always wearing his hat) and at our first shows. I remember when we first started, our summer of label romance where everyone wanted to take us out for a pub meal, and all we ever did was go out in Cardiff drinking and dancing. We said we would change our last names to Campesinos! if we ever played in the states, but we tempted fate, and we never changed out names but we did get to go to America a lot.

I sometimes wonder what alternative universe me would be doing if she didn’t go to that first rehearsal in Ollie’s bedroom. I think she is picking her nose right now in a bath of baked beans, bored and crazy because she spent all day in an office sitting next to a woman who told her about the time she slept with a navy seal. No one cares Brenda.

So 500 plus gigs, millions of air miles, gallons of backstage whisky and wine, a tonne of sweaty cheese and pita bread, a litre of tears shed on stage, hundreds of “don’t fuck up,” panics, hundreds of fuck ups, hundreds of “this is blowing my mind” moments whilst starring into a sea of unfamiliar and impassioned faces, break ups and ill advised hook ups later (don’t date musicians, like ever, we’re all mental,) I realise I have seen all the travel lodges, service stations, and states of America (apart from Alaska) and I have tasted more Marks and Spencer’s meals then I thought possible. I’ve been with some of the finest people I know doing a very unnatural thing, which is both the best and the worst experience and often at the same time, but never the same any given year. And we have done it fucking well. The best we can.

God I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help it, I was a middle child.

So some more self-indulgence.

I want to thank some people for being ace. John Goodmanson – a brilliant producer and a lesson in style and grace under pressure. Joe Puleo – the best tour manager, you never feel anything but safe in his company. Kelly Pickard – inspiration, mentor, wisest woman. Paul Rattcliff- The loyalist soundman whom gives so much. Kev and Alun and Mark Bowen, Wichita, Ben and Vicky, Gareth Dobson, anyone we have toured with or supported or who I have met along the way, everyone I forgot. I haven’t forgot, I am thinking about you.

My mum, because she told me I could be anything and do anything except get my tongue pierced. And I did that anyway, and she still wasn’t mad at me.

And the band.. Kim, Jason, Gareth, Tom, Neil and Rob who I will miss sharing experiences with that no one will understand, I love you guys. Like, loads. From our first Sweet Dreams, until our last, thanks.

Okay, too long, too emo. Bye bye.

Ellen x