#plus it feels like a trans allegory

[storytellering]

Love your art and I'm generally curious as to what the appeal of Dante/Vergil is to you? Do you have any hc that you're drawing from or is it just personal preference? I struggle to imagine the right conditions for them to be involved in that way and would like to know what inspires you.

I will premise this by saying, that I’m actually not a MASSIVE fan of just DV for its own sake, if Nero isn’t also included (or like, with the assumption he will, 100%, be included once he’s in the picture). To me it’s kind of a baseline pairing?

As in, I don’t even have to think about it. Of course they’re in love, of course they’re together, of course they’re fucking. It’s almost an afterthought to me, the way the married parent couple of the protagonist in a story inherently are. It doesn’t necessarily interest me by itself, that fact, it’s just a certainty, it just is. I guess, for me, the interest in DV specifically comes more out of what other people make of it, because for me I’m almost always approaching first from the perspective of Nero being there also, haha.

There’s also the fact that I have a lot of hc about just like, the way demons function as a species, I guess. I took a lot of things dmc canon gave me and went like, “alright, time to project this into the most self indulgent, non-human society but humanoid looking species I can think up in my brainhead”. To me a lot of the appeal comes from it being not necessarily a predestined thing as much as like, a biological inevitability - (going to speak in definitives about my own hc from here on, so not making any statement about canon dmc lol) demons mate with their kin, and with whoever deems worthy - and twins from the same litter would inevitably end up being the other’s first partner, their first choice, their other half. In a sense, to me, they’re soulmates - though honestly I prefer to think of it more as two halves of the same soul, following the implications in 3 and the 3 manga that them being twins comes from the spawn of Sparda being too powerful to just be born in one body. That might sound like I’m just saying they’re soulmates in a different way, but not really - to me, if I had to go the soulmate route, Nero would be both of their soulmate - because the two of them make one single soul, and the match to that would be Nero’s.

I kind of just go off of the assumption that they are in love and have been since they were in the womb, you know?

That colors the way I see their every interaction. To me, in their fighting, their squabbles and their feuds, there’s always love at the source. Familial, yes, but romantic and sexual as well - and to me, when I think about them, it’s all one and the same. To love each other like family is to be intwined, is to be mated, is to be a pack and is to be one.

That’s the more deep thoughts I have about it, I have more shallow/surface thoughts (and specifically ship dynamic thoughts about like, what appeals to me about them sexually lol) but if I had to quickly sum it up that’s what I would say, I think. 

[deoidesign]

Hi! im not sure if you read tags on reblogs. But your recent drawing of Steve in trans colours.. was that meant to be a reference to the Vibes he has, or is it a confirmation of anything...? He'll still be transition goals no matter the answer, but i was just curious how /hj or /srs it was.

It's serious! He's trans. Got transed by werewolves.

[blubberbuns]

Hiii i personally would live to hear about rabbits kiss- i mean the lore!

RUBS MY HANDS TOGETHER... alright fellas. Buckle your butts in Make sure to drop the post down to read the full lore!

Bon's Beginning, Love Interest:

Bon was originally made to be Frankie's Minnie! Back then, she was called Bonnie, and her whole purpose was to be part of all the romantic storylines—like all those you can think of. Plus, she was supposed to help Frank with some of his tricks for the shows. You know, like in magic acts where a pretty lady gets cut in half or vanishes—basically eye candy for him and the crowd. But Bonnie never clicked with the audience, so she started showing up less and less until she seemed to vanish from the show, only popping up as a low-key background character. People figured, "Oh ok- she’s still exists she's just not getting any attention anymore". That way they can focus on more diverse plots! Many people assumed they were still meant to be together.

The Rival Era:

So, while they were working on the new seasons of the show, they wanted to mix things up a bit—like throw in some Looney Tunes-style slapstick with classic Disney vibes and a bit of Tom and Jerry fun.

When they were coming up with ideas for rival characters, they gave Bonnie a makeover and turned her into Bon, a chocolate colored rabbit! Since they looked super similar, fans were like, "Oh, Bonnie must have a twin brother!" There were never any storylines where they fought over a girl or anything, so everyone just thought, "Yep, definitely Bonnie's brother." But the truth is, it’s the same character. Bonnie's not around anymore, so you could see Bon as a trans allegory if you wanted. So Bon has become Frankie's Mortimer, Tom to his Jerry, Daffy to his Bugs- but their shenanigans entirely depend on the episode's plot!

More Than Meets The Eyes:

So, now that he's a guy, he can’t be a love interest anymore, right? They totally have that Tom and Jerry vibe going on—like, sometimes Frankie wins, sometimes Bon wins, sometimes they both get the short end of the stick and occasionally they actually work well together, even if it ends with them slap-fighting over who gets the trophy.

So, every episode they cook up this stew of drama with one conflict after another, but then it’s like they hit the reset button on all the storylines and their progress. One reoccurring joke is that since Bon is called a chocolate rabbit (his name being a pun haha), it's a running joke that Frank wants to take a bite out of him.

Sometimes, you see them actually caring for one another. Like, if Frankie twists his leg and really messes it up (totally inspired by some fan art I got), he’d pretend he’s totally fine and be like, “See! I LITERALLY can’t stand you!” right before crashing down- and Bon would roll his eyes but still help him out, picking him up and carrying him when he needs it. But once Frankie’s all healed up, it’s right back to their bickering.

That’s just a chill example, but let’s say Frankie’s really not okay. They’ve got this dynamic of “I can’t stand you, but I also can’t handle seeing you so miserable.” Even though they mess with each other a lot, when things get real, they manage to soften a bit. It’s mostly in their body language since they’re not exactly pros at comforting one another, but they give it a shot. Bon tones down his quips and helps Frankie through whatever’s going on. They have these genuine, tender moments, but then, of course, by the next episode, everything's back to square one.

Yearning For A Fictional Reality:

I totally dig the trope where a cartoon character suddenly gains their own consciousness and totally goes against how they're portrayed in the show. So, yeah, since Bon never got a consciousness Frank kind of yearned for him to have one. He wouldn't admit why but as unbothered as he is with a lot of things, he wants to have someone there with him, and out of every character he wants a Bon.

Those old romance episodes just feel so cringy to him, like the whole “I was made to be yours” drama. He’s not about that. What he really wants is the guy who wasn't MADE to be his. He wants to make him his.

Our Lucky Contestant:

The lucky contestant in Bon's world is kinda like Bon in a lot of ways. For starters, their personalities aren’t exactly the same, but you can definitely see some similarities. Lucky always looks like he’s running on empty, and while he’s a bit sarcastic, he’s also really genuine and just juggling a ton of stuff in his life. He doesn’t have that same cocky vibe as Bon. So, he and Frank tend to clash a bit, even though The Other gets along just fine with the new guy. In fact, you could argue they have a situationship brewing.

Things took a turn when Frank finally saw Lucky without his mask on. He’s got chocolate brown hair, a ton of freckles, and hazel eyes (though he pops in lime green contacts sometimes, but those don’t last long). He’s different, but still so similar at the same time. Plus, Lucky sometimes rocks this headband that looks like rabbit ears, and The Other thinks it’s cute because it gives him a chance to mess around with Lucky’s ears- BUT I DIGRESS.

It really weighs on Frank, and he starts to act all strange afterward. He beats himself up for being so desperate to have a Bon around that he’s imagining him in people he shouldn’t. But it’s like clockwork – “Lucky” keeps getting swapped out for “Bon.” At first, he just slips up, but after some time, he won’t call Lucky anything except “Bon.” Not “Lucky,” not his real name; just “Bon.” It gets him all stressed out, so he starts sending mixed signals to the guy, sometimes being pretty hostile and other times sounding all longing.

He starts projecting onto Lucky more and more. Sometimes he even tries to stir up conflicts that don’t make any sense, kind of like something out of a cartoon. He’s chasing that high, he wants HIS BON. He craves that warmth and tenderness he feels during those emotional moments between Bon and Frankie in the cartoon. It doesn't change who he is or take the top spot on his priority list since the show matters to him. But still, it eats into how he interacts with Lucky and takes up a lot of his mental space.

Bigger Budgeting:

Eventually, though, he gets what he's been longing for. With the budget getting a nice bump, the Other gets a totally new body—way sleeker and less clunky than in the game. Since there's more cash to throw around, the higher-ups are all about new ideas. At one point, Frank even ends up with these awesome mech arms, and his 4D tech gets an upgrade. But the real kicker? Lucky becomes a test subject for something super special. They want to pull him into the cartoon world—like actually transport his mind onto the screen. The plan is that, in the end game, they could test it out for other contestants, where you’ve got to survive in the cartoon world, and if you die there, you kick the bucket in real life too! So, naturally, Lucky is the first one they put through the wringer!

And guess what? When they finally get it to work, Lucky looks REALLY familiar in the cartoon world. He thought he’d be a human or something—just himself but in that rubber-hose style, but nope. He looks exactly like Bon, right down to the last detail. He might not sound exactly like him, but man, the visuals are spot on. Frank had no clue this would happen, either. He was totally in the dark.

Was it intentional? Oh very much so- the only difference is that they don't sound exactly the same. (Normal Cartoon Bon sounds like this btw.) But other than that, down to a T. The Other can keep track of how things go in the cartoon world- until he can't. These two need some alone time after all- imagine how you will. (Yes he does try to take a bite out of Lucky's arm and he is disappointed he doesn't taste like chocolate)

I LOVE THESE TWOOO I HOPE THIS SNIPPET IS SUFFICIENT!

[gracebethartacc]

bunch of doodles/art of later events/next chapter my cccc fic from the past week :3€

First up is doodles of some concepts for the next chapter !! (Being post RoE)

the idea of Mind crying for the first time entirely alone off screen just because he’s so worried about Soul and Heart simultaneously and also just from feeling betrayed just breaks me to think about

like the concept he’s worried for Soul because Heart is violent/just tried to shoot him, but he’s also worried for Heart because he knows Soul is going to punish them in some way and for once he doesn’t know what’s going to happen he has no clue if either of them are ok and he’s just Alone and in pain and is just sitting there waiting and hoping for the best and he finally gives himself a moment to show emotion and he’s entirely alone when it happens and. Just. Fuck I love thinking about Mind so so so much. he was definitely mentally kicking himself for doing it also btw. if it’s not obvious I’m very excited that I’m finally at the stage of the fic in which I finally get to do character study stuff :)

anyway! Here’s ones I did last night specifically related to this detail of my soul design: (HEAVY TW FOR SUICIDE ATEMPT)

I love how Soul is the embodiment of identity and the self and yet keeps straying further and further from Whole both in terms of remembering him as well as the concept of being Whole/human and it absolutely HATES it !!!!! I love dissecting my characterization of it it’s definitely my favorite jash to write as much as I love Heart my love for identity issues and trans allegories is stronger sorry

Everything turned out ok in the end <3 peace and love on planet HMS (off topic but I love the idea Heart and Mind show opposite expressions to what you’d assume, like Heart is more downtrodden/pessimistic while Mind is the one being more optimistic/comforting, I just like it, character arcs and all that youknow? )(plus Mind and Soul friendship is my new favorite thing in the word after brainstorming the post RoE chapter more)

[rei-does-stuff]

Why Chibiusa is a trans allegory!!

(This post is abt the manga specifically!)

When we first get a glimpse into Chibiusa’s backstory we see her main insecurities, that she’s small, not like everyone else, not like the other girls and not like her Mother who she sees as a ‘proper’ woman.

She looks up to her mother as everything she believes she can’t be, this I feel, is similar to how a lot of trans people want to be cis, their true gender, but feel like they can’t due to their assigned gender at birth,

Ie-Chibiusa feeling like she can’t be like her mother due to her being small, and not like everyone else, aka her being trans, additionally, her insecurities can be a metaphor for gender dysphoria

Similarly the bullying she receives for this can be interpreted as her peers being transphobic about her identity,

“you’re a fake princess” could be read as “you’re a fake girl” and Chibiusa internalizes this as “I will never have power” ie “I will never be a girl”

She steals the Silver Crystal in hopes of proving everyone wrong, to prove she does have power, that she’s a real princess, a real girl

This is also why she gravitates towards Pluto so much, she was the first person aside from her Parents to validate her identity, to see her as just like her mother, as a girl

Wiseman uses her insecurities her pain, her dysphoria and turns her into Black Lady, tries to turn her into a ‘real’ woman, but the thing is she was already a real woman, she’s always been one, always had power like her mother she just needed to realize it for herself

And when she does she transforms into her sailor form, this form being her true self, you can read it as her transitioning, she’s always been a girl, always had power, this transformation is the embodiment of self love

You can also see her almost realizing this before with how she compares herself to Usagi, Usagi who she sees as a ‘real’ girl is just like her, showing that she isn’t alone and that she’s just as much of a girl as everyone else

Of course this also comes back in the dream arc, with her still having these insecurities much like how even after transition a lot of trans people have doubts about if they’re really the gender they are, of course though now, Chibiusa has more people to support her,

And she can come to accept her identity once again, even in the future she’s like her mother because she’s always been like her, always been herself

And she can come to accept her identity once again, even in the future she’s like her mother because she’s always been like her, always been herself

So yea, Chibiusa is transgender, at least I feel she can be interpreted as such, plus her color pallet is literally the trans flag!! <33

[mwagneto]

my lady jane lgbt but specifically trans allegory was so crazy djnfjefjdnm like i'm like 100% sure that's what they were going for w the whole ethian thing. like that whole scene where they talk about how he can possibly stand constantly being challenged like this and him saying that he doesn't care bc people that matter to him know who he is, plus the narrator literally calling non-ethians cis like it's not subtle

and i really love how the whole narrative was like. people are starving and there's constant riots and a few idiots control the entire country but the person trying to seize power isn't addressing any of those issues because her entire campaign is "when i'm the ruler i'll exterminate every trans person". and it works. feels very relevant right now and i really liked the way all that was handled

[dom-guilfoyle]

Okay so (sorry if you've answered this before, Tumblr isn't turning anything up, but the search function is notorioisly...nonfunctioning) I have a question.

I'm trying not to give many dire spoilers to anyone else new, but what are the 'proper' pronouns for the Queen's child? Do the fae even conceptualise them the same way/does it even matter to them? I noticed that Queen usually uses 'they' for their child, but also just kind of goes with the flow well enough, and uses 'he' sometimes when Guide is using 'he' to refer to him. (And, sidenote, I'm p sure they're always or almost always referred to as they themself too. I can't remember if anyone besides Guide refers to any of the other fae using pronouns and not just titles/nomikers, and Guide assumes Stranger is 'he', but is that correct? Or, again, is there even such a thing as 'correct' when it comes to the fae? Is this something they care about? Or, also, could it be something they purposely don't clarify and prefer the ambiguity, because the less people know for certain, well...the less people know! And the less they have over you! That does seem to be how they operate).

And Beast I'm pretty sure referred to them as 'he' a couple times soon after Guide said what ppl at Mistholme knew him as, but usually defaults back to 'she' still, because that's how he remembers his friend.

I'm just interested to know if there's an answer to this, I suppose, and if it will be brought to a conclusion in the show or purposely left ambiguous. I think either way is interesting, as from my questions above, I've been turning this around a lot.

Also, related: was the whole backstory of the Queen's child, with the pulling away from family and finding a place with Beast instead, and then going back only to basically take what they could (what was theirs) and leave again, stay estranged because of the expectations of them they didn't want, plus added in that Beast literally knew his close friend as a girl only for him to be known as a man later in life... was that Supposed to be a trans allegory at inception, or was that just a happy accident? I feel like it's too much to be accidental, but I thought I'd ask. I love it either way and was really taken in by Beast's arc, and I'm very interested to see how it pans out when (if?) they [Queen's child]

Sorry that was so long lol. I've just been bingeing the show the past few days whilst i was working on things and it's been on my mind a lot!

Hey, thanks for listening and also thinking so much about the show!

I've kept things a little ambiguous with regard to the Fae's concept of gender, because it allows for the conflict between the Queen and The Man to be about more than just one thing. It's about gender, but also parental expectations and finding yourself and whatever else it sparks inside you. The Fae are very different from us in a lot of ways, but also a lot like us in others, and that means the story can resonate with our experiences without being a direct allegory.

I was definitely thinking in terms of gender discovery and transness, but from the Queen's perspective we don't even really know if that's part of it at all for them. I wrote the Fae to have a different concept of gender to us because, well, why wouldn't they? And then I've left it a bit ambiguous because explaining everything about something can make it mundane, and I definitely don't ever want the alternatural to be mundane. In my head, the Queen is The Man's only "Parent", they just decided to have an heir and kind of... manifested one? Because that seems like something a Fairy Queen would do. But that's not really important to the narrative, so, no need to include it.

Pronouns for characters are:

Guide: It/Its

The Queen: They/Them

The Man: Tricky. The people in the Museum use He/Him, because that's what they've known him as this whole time and they've never been corrected. They don't know how The Fae relate to gender and they have bigger problems at this point.

The Queen uses They/Them, because The Man is more than just an individual- they're The Heir, they're not a person they're the future, and all of The Queen's expectations made manifest. Sometimes they've said He in front of the Guide, because the Guide has actually interacted with The Man far more recently than The Queen has, and they're like... going along with that? But they always default back to neutral terms.

The Beast still thinks of The Man as their friend, the person they were when they were both cubs. It's very stuck in the past, desperate for a return, and the complexity of the Fae isn't something it understands. Sometimes it uses He/Him, but it's not really sure what it all means.

Stranger: He/Him is probably fine? I think Stranger probably changes it on a whim to mess with people anyway lol.

[bestworstcase]

I think it'll be interesting when RWBYJ tells everyone about the ever after, specifically Oscar/Ozpin. I think that'll be a hell of a slap in the face to those two. Imo it's pretty clear that Oz doesn't like the Brothers (his lie for his curse literally puts them in the WORST light to anyone who hears it), but isn't exactly open about it nor does he think on it much. But hearing that the 'gods' are essentially just people who got kicked out of their home would make him. Well I hesitate to say that he'd flip the fuck out, but I definitely think he wouldn't be happy at ALL. I'm sure he'd be furious while simultaneously having an existential crisis.

Frankly, Oz is just. An interesting character when it comes to his thoughts on the Brothers. He went from more or less listening to Light without question (but immediately started questioning when Salem talked to him- "Unsure of where his loyalties still lay-" he trusts Salems words but is confused about his stance on Light, perhaps afraid of questioning him), to putting them in a bad light repeatedly and more or less giving up on his task (there's far far easier ways to unite the world i.e. war- why would he deliberately make it hard on himself? He's far from stupid. He still foes his best to foster peace because why wouldn't he?). And, now, he's actively fighting his curse, and is doing so the second he got an ounce of hope.

I think why he hasn't really thought of fighting the Gods is bc a) he's still scared of them (and it makes sense, I'd be scared too) and b) he never knew that they, well, were just people. I think he'd need some convincing, but I really think he'd be happy to try his hand at giving Light a piece of his mind lol. Something tells me Oz has millennia of bottled up anger- something will eventually be the straw that broke the camels back, as even the most resilient of people can break.

Though I think the biggest issue would be the idea of teaming up with Salem. He's bitter and terrified of her, and although we don't know exactly what's happened between them since their first fight (beyond Oz spending several lives as an alcoholic, then wandering Remnant being reminded of Salem (not necessarily bc he thought every Grimm attack was her, Grimm just remind him of her)), it's entirely possible Salem has also done... something to hurt him. No one's that bitter or terrified of someone for absolutely no reason, but whatever the reason is, that'll definitely be an obstacle between him being allied with her against the Gods. Plus she also, yknow, tortured him and allowed Hazel to torture him (which Oscar took most of it, but they're in the same body).

I think that interaction would be... interesting. Especially since I really don't think Oz even is 'Ozma' anymore. Ozma is the foundations yes, but the merge changes you fundamentally. He has changed his name every lifetime (if Oz doesn't accidentally answer to the name Oscar I'll eat my left shoe), but how much of him really is Ozma anymore? Ship of theseus and all that. If he, by all accounts, isn't 'Ozma' anymore and Salem isn't aware of this, I think it'd be an interesting revelation for her. There's similarities between Oz and how he used to be, but I feel like 'Ozma' is functionally a deadname for him (Oz trans/DID allegory? /j). Especially since I think Ozma is just- not who he is anymore. He's tried living up to the name, but he can't and he knows it (the words his illusion in v9 says speaks a lot to his mental state and his opinion of himself).

God speaking of his illusion on v9, I think it's incredibly clear that what each illusion says pertains to that character in some way. And it says so so much about Ozpin and how he sees himself. It's ironic how the God of Light, associated with creation, made him, yet he thinks that all he does is destroy. He's scarily good at splitting people apart just accidentally (i.e. v6, Summer basically throwing him under the bus thus STRQ broke apart and blamed him, etc) too. Yet Salem, immortal via Lights curse, made herself through Grimm and is very good at rallying people. Dunno, fun thought there (it's why swap aus are so damn tasty with these two).

Sorry for the long ask, I just wanted to ramble in your inbox for a bit. I have many thoughts about Oz.

not. to be snarky but

To live free or die, it’s all the same The enemy was right, there’s no reclaiming In waves of shame We’re desperate to make amends But through a simple soul we lie complacent  Love brings us dreams But grief makes the heart burst at the seams  As light fills my eyes I’ll picture me beside her And pray that I’ll inspire  I promise I’ll be here until the end I promise I’ll be here until… Our story has been told Til our bodies break down every door Til we find what we’ve been looking for

terrified she’ll never forgive him and terrified of what will happen if she confronts the gods again, yes. but terrified of her?

the enemy was right. we’re desperate to make amends. grief makes the heart burst at the seams. i’ll picture me beside her. ozma isn’t terrified of salem; he is, explicitly, ashamed of himself and desperate to make amends and longing for her.

listen. you don’t have to go salem did dot dot dot something to hurt him. we KNOW exactly what she did; rejected the mandate, fought him, burned him alive. they blew up their home and killed their own kids. is this insufficiently traumatizing to explain him.

similarly i do not have to go ozma did dot dot dot something to salem: we know exactly what he did. we know why she’s furious and bitter and still hurting. it is not ambiguous.

he’s spent the intervening centuries hiding inside a narrative where salem is the Great Evil he must defeat because the guilt he feels for deceiving and manipulating her and the grief for everything he sacrificed is so unbearable that he can’t touch it except through layers and layers of distortion. but it’s bleeding through the cracks everywhere. the infinite man tried to be a hero and is a fool who may not be worthy of forgiveness, ozpin suggests. look far enough ahead from the ending of the girl in the tower, and you’ll find the hero who saved her turned out to be a villain.

he hates salem. (he deserves her hatred.) this is the wrenching internal war he fights with himself day after day and life after life; the only way he can live with himself enough to function is by hating her, but the hatred is a fiction, a lie, to protect him from his fear. the truth is that he neither hates her nor deserves her hatred.

i am being intentional about calling him ozma, by the way. i am also intentional about when i call him ozpin or oz. i do not think ozma is a deadname. i don’t think ozma is an ideal he is trying and failing to live up to. he doesn’t identify himself as ozpin; he says “the professor ozpin you all met was not my first form.” he dons these other identities as a mask—i am the combination of countless men who have spent their lives trying to protect the people of remnant—because he hates himself. ozma is who he’s running away from because he doesn’t think ozma has ever been enough.

that is why. salem distinguishes between ozpin and ozma the way that she does. and why she is able to differentiate between oscar and ozma even when oscar is mimicking ozpin, because ozpin is the latest in a long series of masks that ozma wears.

(ozpin is tippetarius enforcing his own exile, and thus he became the wizard. ozma is the true self imprisoned by the curse. he’s… named ozma for a reason.)

”what if you could be anyone?” <- the blacksmith does not ask ruby this question because ruby needs to stop being herself in order to be happy. she offers ruby a metaphorical representation of ozma’s curse—what if you could be anyone, slip into a like-minded soul and become that person—in order to guide ruby to the realization that only her true self is the right fit. this is what i like to call blunt force foreshadowing.

ozma is trying to be a thousand different heroes and salem has only ever wanted ozma. ozma then is not the same person as ozma now, but ozma is ozma is ozma. the ship of theseus is the ship of theseus, then as now. on those who enter the same rivers, ever different waters flow. read heraclitus.

the thing is. yeah. he’s going to snap like a brittle twig when he learns the truth about the gods… because he already knows salem is right, deep down. the enemy is right. it bleeds through even into the lost fable, which is narrated in his voice. jinn’s telling—his telling—obfuscates and twists away from salem’s interiority, her feelings, her motives except for the moment of her realization about the brothers: perhaps the gods were not as powerful as they seemed; she had lied to them, turned them against each other; they were fallible.

the enemy is right. he knows she’s right.

hearing what the kids learned in the ever after is going to shatter the cognitive dissonance preventing him from acting on that knowledge. it’s going to surface ‘until the end’ but now joined to the hope he has—since the end of v8—that he can make amends for his cowardice and lies.

ozma apologizing to the kids and asking for a second chance to earn their trust was, uh, a practice run for ozma apologizing to salem and asking for a second chance. the fallout of the lost fable (“there was so much you hadn’t told us! how could you think that was okay!” and “i gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world; i thought i was finally doing some good!”) is a reflection of salem’s distress. the narrative is on her side. because. he lied to manipulate her and grievously betrayed her trust. in exactly the same way he did to the kids.

[yggdraseed]

Unassorted Toga Thoughts

Because God knows I haven't emitted enough of those on Tumblr or at people in my social circle over the past few months.

I really like how Toga fills the role of a femme fatale character like you see in a ton of comic books and manga, but only the broad strokes. The female villain who's got sexual overtones, like with Toga needing to strip to use her Quirk.

But in Toga's case, Horikoshi really went out of his way to avoid making her the typical sex bomb, supermodal villainess. She's got a very average body, usually covers herself up quite a bit when she isn't using Transform, and her appearance can be legitimately unsettling.

Like when you go for the "misunderstood monster" archetype in a female character, it's easy to write other characters demonizing them right down to their appearance, but then make them conventionally attractive. I like how Toga is only going to be charming to some people. For others, her big, tooth grins and the shadows under and around her eyes will make it harder to see her that way.

Because the whole point is that a person's worth isn't in their appearance or how neatly they conform. Having aspects to her appearance that are unsettling doesn't justify how Toga was treated by her parents, just like the blood fixation that came with her Quirk did not, on its own, make her a bad person - and certainly not deserving of abuse. I think that to have made Toga too easy on the eyes would have damaged the message, that things she was born with and can't control are not her fault. Some of her actions are, but those actions were informed by people mistreating her and distancing themselves from her over things she couldn't control before she ever started to act out in any way.

I also feel like the exhibitionist aspect is an expression of how Toga wants to be seen, wants to be understood in her entirety, and wants to be wanted just for what she is. No masks, no disguises.

I know it's easy to see it as justification for a horny writing decision, and on one level it is just Horikoshi's horny side bleeding through the page, but I think there is still a creative thought process behind it. That being a sort of psychological outlet for how badly Toga wants people to see the genuine her, wants to form an intimate connection, and I think baring herself like that specifically and her overbearing, inappropriate shows of affection in general are the result of her needs for a deeper connection and to be desired not being met until she can't moderate them in a healthy way anymore.

I also just like the way Toga can be an allegory for so many different things without being locked into any one thing. The way her Quirk and the way it influences how she perceives and interacts with other people and the world in general can really resonate for a neurodivergent reader just as much as it can for a lesbian or bi reader.

Even though I don't think this is the strongest connection, I'm trans and felt a little of my own experiences reflected back at me through how Toga feels so unwanted and wants so much for someone to love her. Plus, you know... the transformation thing.

I've also got a much more organized little essay in mind for how Toga's parents and society in general have gaslit her into believing she's something she's not - i.e., a bad person. I'll get around to that one sometime soon.

[mychemstat]

just text me- ray toro

summary- you don't expect your tutor to be remotely attractive. you certainly don't expect him to care about anything other than his transcript. but seeing the recipient of the president's scholarship and the name on top of the dean's list shredding electric guitar on stage with his tattooed and pierced band members has you reevaluating your life; did you want to fuck your tutor? author's note and warnings- ray/ftm!reader, cunnilingus, sexual tension, nerd ray, suspicious gerard, pete wentz mention if you squint (comment if you find him), trans allegory, smut. enjoy :)

you stare blankly at the loading webpage, gut coiling at the speed of the buffering dots in the middle of the screen. rubbed, red eyes and undone hair bathing in the fluorescent light of the screen, instant noodles steaming near your keyboard in a cheap plastic cup, you lean back in your chair, the plasticky armrests pricking your skin. the only light source in your room is the laptop you were given last year, especially because the main white tubelight in your ceiling makes you depressed, something about the emptiness it casts over your room, reminding you of hospital lights; the feeling of being on display bothers you deeply. 

the digital clock on your nightstand reads 3:03 am; near the giant text is a small symbol reading the time you set for your alarm, 8:00 am. most days you would get less than four hours of sleep, so this was not surprising for you at all. you toggle your index finger on the mouse, scrolling down to the end of the page, clicking on “see available tutors.” incisors sinking into the plush flesh of your bottom lip, you skim through the math tutors listed on the pdf. 

most tutors were listed under first-year math courses, resulting in an immediate elimination from your shortlist. you word-search “fourth-year data statistics,” meeting with only one result. you pout at the lack of options but click on his profile anyway; not like you have a choice. 

there is no profile picture on his listing, just the words “raymond toro: fourth year, dean’s list.” your eyes flicker to his tutoring times and contact information, fingers reaching for the nearest pen and pad to jot down the information. you have definitely heard his name before in classwide emails about how he received the president’s scholarship. but, fucking hell, you never expected him to tutor people; you figured he was just too busy studying to do anything for others. 

shutting your laptop, you kick away from your study desk, looking over your roommate’s bed behind you to make sure she doesn’t wake up. she stirs slightly and goes back to softly snoring, making you sigh in relief. tiptoeing to your bed, you lift the covers as quietly as possible and climb in, switching your phone on and going over to instagram.

you ignore your inbox and any notifications that pop down from the top of your screen and focus on typing the tutor’s name into the search bar. you click the top result, the one with the most mutual friends. that has to be him you think, hoping his profile was public.

it was, but it didn’t help; his profile picture was an electric guitar, and he had not posted. furrowing your brows, you bite the inside of your lip, pressing on the tagged pictures. 

bingo.

the only picture he was tagged in was posted by the username “gwayyy.” your thumb is quick to scroll through the post,  barely paying attention to the owner of the account, tapping on each slide to see if any of the tagged people in the pictures is this “raymond toro.”

you end up in the last slide, meeting the back profile of a man with shoulder-length curly hair, a broad back, and a slimmer waist than you would expect. 

you pictured a gallon of hair gel slicking his hair to the side and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses; you know, someone who would get a hard-on from every a-plus they get in their classes. 

you switch your phone off, place it on the nightstand and shut your eyes, trying to fall asleep, even though you know you stay up past four in the morning every day. 

your eyes shoot open to stare at your wall, the queen poster staring back at you. the aircon sends a chill down your spine, triggering a pang of anxiety and turning your legs into jelly. you cannot afford to lose your scholarship, and your declining grades only add pressure to every fiber in your body.

you miss the first-year of your undergraduate degree, when you could pass exams without studying too much, get high every few days, and waste time with your friends. it definitely does not help that your family wants you to get a well-paying job right out of college, and you are already in your fourth-year, no clue what you want to do with your life. you barely meet with your friends now, forget about getting high for no reason and spending time at some rando’s dorm party getting tipsy, trying to flirt with the nearest warm body you find. 

the focused, determined student you once aspired to be had died, leaving but a husk of weak motivation. one part of you wants to graduate and leave this place, the other part does not want to enter the workforce that would put you in a cubicle with other mindless drones feeding capitalism’s drooling gluttonous gut. 

or something like that.

plugging in your headphones, you lie on your back, eyelids drooping down. the lulling melody submerging you under a thin layer of unconsciousness. 

you dream about a budding flower that night, a dahlia, it seems. it looks fake, though, almost like it is made of plastic. it grows thorns, roots growing deeper and stronger into the soil. dew drops slide into the center of the flower, swirling into a hurricane-like pattern, revealing a red rose. 

the enticing nature of the flower, the way it swings against the wind like its first breath of fresh air. the flower stands tall, taller than it did when it was a fake, plastic dahlia. rose petals glow against the moonlight, almost smiling. your chest feels warm, you feel your body rise to the air, disintegrate into rose petals. you are happy.

the deafening ringing of your alarm wakes you up, fluorescent rings of pink and yellow emerging from the darkness under your squinted eyes. 

“turn it off, bitch!” you hear your roommate muffle through her pillow, your fingers reaching for the top of the alarm to slam it off. your roommate was never a morning person, exactly like you, so you don’t mind her cussing you out even though she was basically a twenty something year old mother teresa if she were a stoner reincarnated any other time of day.

your phone in one hand and toothbrush in the other, you email the tutor, not putting too much thought into the message before sending it and shoving your phone into your hoodie’s pocket. dark circles curve under your eyes- remnants of last night’s anxiety keeping you up. splashing ice-cold water helps them depuff, you heard.

*

the library is colder than usual, making you bring the cup of coffee to your eyes and warming them one at a time as you walk toward one of the study rooms. the email he almost immediately replied back with, said he would be in room 102, followed by five exclamations. 

way too enthusiastic for a tutoring session. and nine in the morning. and data statistics.

the gray carpet in the building makes you sleepier for some reason, sipping on your drink and knocking on the door labeled ‘102.’ the liquid warms you, soothing your organs as the door creaks open and your head cranes up. 

“hey! nice to see you! i’m ray,” the boy flashes you a toothy smile, curly brown hair like you saw in “gwayyy’s” instagram post. you marvel at how tall he is, almost reaching the doorframe. you don’t know whether to feel inferior or attracted to his height, but you nod, reaching your hand out. 

his hand engulfs yours easily, fingertips clearly calloused by the way they feel against the back of your palm. your cold hands that were once rigid, are now warm and protected, almost making you gasp at the reintroduction of the aircon to your skin when he pulls back. 

he walks in, making way for you as you assess the room. pale eggshell-white walls, destroyed on the edges with water stains, envelop the two of you. it smells like old books and mothballs at first as you drop your back near the foot of the chair nearest to you, and take a seat, adjusting your clothes. 

“thanks for replying so fast, by the way. i kind of needed help with this class.” you state, bending down to fish your notebook out as you feel his footsteps near your chair. 

his backpack was perched on top of the other side of the table, near the whiteboard, so you knew he was coming near you. 

“of course! yeah," raymond speaks. his voice is higher than you expect, masked by a husky filter and you look up at the direction of his voice, surprised by how close he was. 

it isn’t weird, he is there to tutor you after all. all he does is pull out a chair near yours, and place his hand on the table, fingers sprawled across the wooden top. you take a millisecond to see how his hand was basically the size of your notebook before meeting his face, closer to getting a better view.

“you know, i don’t get many students hitting me up to tutor them, so this is refreshing. i was totally just going to rot in my bed all day.” he comments, rolling his eyes playfully, trying to make you warm up to him. you smile, looking down at your notebook and grabbing your pen. your go-to move with anyone, platonic or romantic, is avoiding direct eye-contact for as long as possible. you straighten your back, swearing you watched his eyes flicked to your chest before switching to the whiteboard across the room. 

“so, what do you need help with?” he asks, pushing his chair back against the rough carpet and walking to the other side, watching his tight black shirt bundle up near his waist. your gaze scans his figure, noticing how the flimsy black fabric hugs his back and trails down to the waistband of his jeans that hug his hips tight. you make a mental note to stop staring but where else are you going to look? you’re there to watch him teach. 

nope, you are there to learn, so you don’t fail your classes and lose your scholarship. 

that reminder makes you snap out of the staring contest you had with the small of his back and look back up at him, ready with an answer, “uhh. confidence intervals.” 

it comes out more like a question, spoiling how clueless you are with the subject and you see him smile and nod at your tone before grabbing a dry-erase marker. five pens lie on the thin metal tray across the underside of the white board, and of course, ray doesn’t grab the one that works well the first time. or the fourth time. 

you watch him struggle and cuss through the process, biting back a smile at the way his curls shake at every sigh of disappointment. 

“there we go!” he exclaims, writing down the concept name on the white board, involuntarily flexing the muscles bulging near the ends of his short-sleeves. you see the hint of a tiny tattoo under the sleeve but you decide to save that for later amusement and focus on his words. 

“so, it’s super simple,” he begins, rambling about the definition, something about how it is the range in which you expect your test value to follow, and you soon realize that it, in fact, was not super simple. 

you nod, wanting to let him know that you were listening and alert. your eyes widen, and an unknowing smile spreads on your lips. he talked with his hands. a lot. the more animated he was, the more his hair moved around his face, and the more distracted you were. 

“so basically that is how you end up with the test value, do you know how to figure out if it is a right or left-tailed test?”

fuck, what the hell was that? you look away from him, pretending to think, knowing full well you have no fucking clue what it is. you press your lips together and squint your eyes, “...no.”

“no worries, that’s what i’m here for,” he smiles this time, a toothy grin, almost unexpected from someone of his stature, flashing before he turns around to draw yet another bell-curve on the white board. you watch his shoulder blades move with every letter he writes, how the small of his back stands prominent with the tightness of his shirt. 

he looks back a few times to confirm your attention, his lips pursing before turning back to the board and continuing teaching. he likes to ramble a lot, you notice, but it isn’t unnecessary by any means. if anything, it helps you retain information. 

you ask him questions, pen gliding against the thin notebook paper as you write down what is on the board. he folds his hands, one arm propping up on the other and reaching for his chin like he’s thinking of the answers. 

as more time passes, his shoulders relax, the back and forth between the two of you reaching a comfortable rhythm. you ask a question, he goes on a tangent and you fill out another page with ease, all the pieces of puzzle from different lectures falling into place. 

you let out a couple astonished “ohhhhh”s, like you finally understood the meaning of life and your tutor just smiles at your surprise each time. you bite down on your lip and knit your brows as he asks you if you understand him or not. 

“holy shit, this makes so much sense now.” you drop your head in relief and look back at him screwing the lid of the marker back on. he walks to the chair near you as you pen down the last of the diagram he drew before shutting your notebook close. 

“i wish you taught this class instead of higgins,” you comment, stuffing your belongings in your back, “i swear he hates his students.”

“higgins can be a toughie, but he’s just old, you know? and maybe slightly senile.” 

you chuckle, “thank you, raymond, seriously,” you rise to your feet strapping your bag on and looking down at where he sits. 

“oh, you can just call me ray, raymond is more for the official student records.”

oh, ray toro. has a nice ring to it. 

“okay, cool. do you teach anything else, ray?” you don’t expect your words to come out as flirtatiously as they do, but you can’t swallow them so you go with it, flashing a smile to coat them as platonically as possible. 

“uh… not officially. but if you ever need me to look over essays, or whatever, i’ll do it, i don’t get much traffic nowadays anyway so i’ll probably be free unless i’m at a gig.” 

so that electric guitar in his profile picture wasn’t for show. 

“oh, you perform?” you ask, feeling like a stalker. 

“yeah, i play guitar in this band, you probably haven’t heard of us.” he waves it off, clearly not one to boast about his personal life. 

“i’d love to catch a show,” you blurt out, not expecting your statement to sound as intense as it does. 

he cocks an eyebrow, “oh, for real? let me give you my number then, we have this show tomorrow night.”

already exchanging numbers? you giggle internally, watching his fingers tap the screen before giving you his phone. 

“i’ll just text you the time and address, gerard's still working out the logistics.” ray explains, erasing the whiteboard and pushing all the chairs into place.

you tilt your head in confusion, “gerard…?”

“oh, he’s our lead singer. you’ll see him tomorrow. hard to miss him.”

*

ray is right, of course. the next night, after hours of stewing in excitement to see ray perform, you watch this “gerard” dance and sing around the stage, flicking his tongue at the crowd, glistening in sweat from the stage lights beating down on the band. they are good. 

you aren’t at the very front though, that space was occupied by people who look like they have been waiting all their lives to see ray’s band perform so you sit right off the pit, pulling your jacket taut into yourself. you squint, trying to gauge a feel for each member. there is one on the left, banging his head, his lips spread apart like he’s mid orgasm at any given moment, tattoos spreading up his arms all the way to his neck. there’s one on the bass, seemingly timid, a beanie pulled over his straightened hair swooped to the side, the only one with glasses on and the tightest shirt on the planet. 

then there’s ray whose gaze is fixated down at his guitar, his tongue sticking out like there is nothing more important in the world. his guitar is crystal clear even when the expressive, red-haired frontman screams into the microphone. you feel your heart race at the sight of him shredding on the instrument, bouncing curls and flexing forearms prominent under the yellow lights. 

the overpriced drink in your hand that is seventy percent tequila and ten percent juice has you nodding along to the song, even though rock was never in your top genres on spotify. it may be the alcohol or their talent in general, because they sound good. like, scream your heart out to their songs and want to be their groupie good.

okay, maybe the latter is the alcohol talking. 

mostly girls around you fawn over the band’s frontman, or the one playing the bass, mikey, you gather from their screams. as their set comes to an end, he girls beeline from the pit to the backstage, excited giggles erupting one after the other. you feel like shit. 

ray is probably straight. he probably fucks girls left and right, he’s in a rock band after all. 

the defeatist in you, however, soon fails as you find your fingers fighting the cold and typing out a message to ray. 

-hey, i watched your set. you were great!

a sense of superiority dawns over you. do the others have his number? fuck no, they don’t.

your eyes follow ray as he walks out the stage with his guitar in one hand and the amplifier in the other. fuck, he’s strong. 

the tequila has hit you, you realize, as you rake your eyes over his body from the crowd, a strange sense of jealousy over someone you met only yesterday pricking at your chest. your phone vibrates against your palm in your coat pocket, and you see a text from ray.

-super! you wanna come backstage?” 

bing-fuckin-o.

you send a thumbs up and begin your trail around the venue, budding anxiety popping like bubbles. your eyes scour for the backstage, or any group of girls bunched together. where there’s smoke there’s fire, after all. 

you hear your name through the commotion of screams and giggles and whip your head in the direction, spotting him. he waves from inside a shed, the door open for anyone who wants to meet the band. you flash a smile, feeling giddy that he has the same interest in you as you do after only a few days of meeting him. 

he’s just being nice, you tell yourself.

he wants to fuck you, you argue, immediately knowing which part of you is the drunk one. 

you fight the wind, running toward the shed that has a string of fairy lights wrapped around the inside of the room. the room isn’t huge; enough for about twenty people to stand around and mingle. a sudden warmth embraces you as you blow a tired breath out and approach ray who’s nursing a beer, his eyebrows shooting up.

“you made it! how’d you like us?” ray raises his voice over the slightly loud music playing over somebody’s bluetooth speaker. you look over at the noise and look up at him through your eyelashes, feeling smaller than him. 

it turns you on. 

“you were awesome! the way you shred, it was so fucking cool.” ray hears you curse for the first time and giggles, the same toothy grin flashing across his face. he takes a swig of his beer, bringing the mouth of the glass bottle to his- wow his lips were plump.

the shed is barely lit, a lavender-colored sunset light on the right corner of the floor was the only light source. a strong scent of cigarettes and weed lingers in the air and occasionally clears out as the door opens when someone has to go out to piss, you assume. people huddle in groups, some way larger than the others. but ray stood alone when you walked in.  

he leans down to you, and your heart stops momentarily. his breath fans the shell of your ear. his face was fucking near yours. 

“i didn’t think you would make it.” he says, this time at a regular volume now that his lips were right near your ears. you shiver when his breath hits your skin, failing to compute what he says for a second.

you lean toward his ear, pulling him in by his arms on reflex because he seems too far to your tipsy ass brain, “of course i did. i need to get my grades up!” you joke, hoping to god he sees the humor lacing your voice. 

he chuckles, oh how sweet his voice is, you think, relief fighting the cortisol in your brain. 

“ray! what are you doing all the way over-” you hear his name being called, a blur of red hair knifing through the little crowd around him. you could see girls’ hands drag across his chest and even grab his shirt and he flashes them an obligatory get-the-fuck-off-me smile before catching up to the man in front of you. 

it is gerard, his red hair dripping in sweat making him the most easy to recognize. you watch the shorter guy turn his head towards you, “who’s this, ray?”

ray introduces you, “i tutored him yesterday.”

gerard’s eyes scan you from head to toe, a polite smile appearing, “good to know you’re not trying to rip ray’s clothes off like that crowd back there.”

if only he knew. you chuckle at his comment, looking at ray nervously before turning toward gerard, “you guys were super great, by the way.”

“you’re sweet, aren’t you.” gerard tilts his head, his fingers massaging ray’s biceps. you believe gerard notices the way your eye twitches at his move on ray and the corner of his mouth perks up, “huh, maybe not.” 

the crowd filters out of the shed, leaving the band and a couple of their friends, you assume, to let their hair down and get a couple of drinks in. 

“how long do these,” you look around at people rolling joints and pout, impressed, “...afterparties go on for?” 

ray looks up, trying to come up with an answer, “uh, like a few hours, no one knows really. i live on campus so i leave whenever i want to, sometimes g and frank stay back. sometimes we see mikey come to practice the next day with the same clothes on,” he shrugs, “it’s different every time.”

you aren’t sober by any means, but you aren’t piss-drunk either when you meet frank and mikey, the shorter one with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, with closer inspection, betraying his onstage persona. mikey, who you’re told is gerard’s younger brother, is as quiet as he seems when he plays on stage. you smile at him and make small talk, compliment his neon genesis evangelion shirt and he grins in surprise, revealing his pointy canines. 

ray is across the room, mingling with some people who you assume are from other bands who performed before them. a man with a shorter stature and a fuckton of eyeliner, wearing a zip-up hoodie that barely hid his torso, a tattoo around his collarbone with nothing underneath, sips on a cigarette and talks to ray, looking up at him like you did yesterday.

you don’t realize how long you’re staring until ray finds your stare, downing the beer he holds so casually between his index and middle finger. your gut flips. heat spreads from your chest to your stomach, making you crush your paper cup and throw it away in dismissal. 

you dream of the same flower you did yesterday. an odd sense of belonging tags along the haze you’re merged in. this time with another rose beside it. the roots of the other, pinker rose intertwined with yours, the ends connecting and becoming one. 

you wake up the next morning with a headache you haven’t had in months. you’ve heard of hangover remedies like swallowing a raw egg yolk. but you would never do that, even if it meant you were throwing up in the paper bag near your nightstand. which you do. 

admittedly, throwing up makes you feel better before you realize what you have to do today. 

the stack of papers on your table resembles mount everest as you contemplate the quantity of it all. not only had you forgotten about the project, but it is also due tomorrow night.

grabbing a coffee and a breakfast sandwich from the cafeteria, you sprint back to your dorm, trying not to wake your roommate up who had worked late last night and met you on the way to your shared room after the afterparty with ray’s band. 

ray was offering and insisting that he drop you off since he invited you there, but you politely declined, horny and exhausted out of your mind. 

the way he looked at you last night. his gaze clinging to every inch of you before looking away, had not only given you some interesting dreams that may have involved getting fucked in the lecture hall, but also left a lasting feeling that there was a ball of fire in your ribcage. 

you consider asking ray for help on your project. 

no, you can’t. he has better things to do. 

scanning through the question on the paper only makes you lean into the idea. suddenly forgetting everything ray taught you the day before. time blurs for you, and you don’t realize you have already texted ray and asked him if he can help you, fixing your hair and second-guessing your outfit.

wait, why did you care?

your phone dings. 

-all of the study rooms are booked :( 

you throw your phone on the bed, the pile of papers making your stomach sink lower into your body. fuck, you’re going to fail the class. you’re going to fail all because you went to the show yesterday to look at this fucking boy, who caught your fucking eye, and you wanted to fuc-

-unless you’re okay with me coming over.

you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t pound so hard against your rib cage that your ears started ringing. you send the same thumbs up emoji, pretending to be casual, regular; anything synonymous with normalcy. the coffee in your system kicks into overdrive; you straighten out your room, tell your roommate to get the fuck out once she gets up and receive a bunch of sex jokes in exchange, all of which you blush at. 

“have fun blowing that dude,” she yells, probably loud enough for your neighbors to hear. she closes the door on the way out, missing the paper ball you threw at her. 

*

“oh wow, your room is way cleaner than mine.” ray appears at your dorm in another tight black shirt, this time with the iron maiden logo that has clearly fought the washer and lost the fight multiple times. 

you see him duck through the door frame, fixing his hair back into position, and you try not to feel your heart wrench at the sight of him being adorable. you bring the papers down to the floor, a signal for ray to mirror you. he sits next to the foot of the bed, leaning against the wooden leg. his hands wrap around his knee, neck craning near yours to get a better look at the questions laid out on the fluffy grayish white carpet. 

you don’t realize that the shorts you’re wearing ride up your thighs, almost presenting themselves to the taller figure in the room. your legs lay on top of each other, almost parallel to the direction ray faces. you prop yourself up on the ball of your left palm, the arm that is stretched behind you, leaning into ray. ray begins helping you, talking about the different mistakes you make as you go through the process of solving the questions. his voice rings near your face, and you find yourself adjusting your seat on the carpet, moving the hem of the shorts closer to your pelvis. 

ray begins stuttering, and for a while you wonder what that is about. he strokes his chin like he’s thinking hard but it is clear that he is pretending to do so. the room gets hotter and you turn your head to check the thermostat. 

it’s the same. 

maybe it is the way you meet ray’s eyes, his plump, berry lips curving into a smirk at every joke you crack, or the way he, at least you think, gets distracted by your legs on display. he bends down to the papers, the fabric of the shirt stretching over his back, and you can’t help but think about leaving scratches on his back and trailing your fingers down his spine. 

ray smells like soap and the kind of cologne that a college kid can afford, not too charming, not too repellant. his hair is nearer to you than his face, and you can smell his shampoo that’s kind of coconut-y and beachy, and you try your best not to audibly inhale. 

you go through the papers at the speed of lightning with ray there to coach you through it. you chew and bite your lip, working through the problems with utter concentration. sometimes you don’t realize that ray is talking, and you end up ignoring him and apologizing for spacing out at the project. 

“holy shit, you were focused huh? like shiva at his penance,” ray comments, and you don’t understand. and he figures.

“shiva is a hindu deity. he’s known to be the sage of all sages, nobody would disturb his penance on top of this mountain in india,” he says, like he's almost embarrassed about knowing trivia. 

“wow…” you trail off, “and you just know all this?”

he chuckles, ducking his head and looking back up, “i used to google things a lot as a kid…” you cock an eyebrow, not believing him.

“...and maybe i still do.” he admits, palming his face, hiding that smile of his you love to see. 

“i admire that actually. i used to be obsessed with dinosaurs, google was like my life for a good few years” you comment, not expecting his countenance to be that of enthrallment; almost childlike joy. 

“you’re kidding, right? i did too! if you ever come over, you’ll see dinosaur stickers on my laptop and some of my drawers.” and you try not to think too much about the implication of the statement. 

you sort through the papers to make sure you don’t miss a single page and then turn toward ray, who was closer than before. you see specks of gray and black in his eyes, the way his nose bumps up slightly, freckles adorning his olive-toned skin. you notice he has dimples, appearing with each smile. his toothy grin melts you, and you feel that similar warmth you felt last night blossoming in your ribs. 

your breath hitches in your throat before you realize you’re staring like a madman into his eyes. 

“good job today,” ray says, his hand shaking your shoulder, jolts of electricity branching up the point of contact. you look away, a tight-lipped smile masking the sudden pulse his compliment sent straight between your legs. 

“oh, thanks. i really couldn’t have done this without you.” 

ray waves you off, leaning away, upsetting you slightly, “of course you could have. i just pointed you in the direction, you were the one on the journey.”

“any chance you play dnd?” you question, almost teasing his attempt at being poetic.

“it’s that obvious, huh?”

you both laugh, voices ringing out. you don’t remember laughing like this in a while, especially with someone you admired this much. the laughs settle into a comfortable silence as the two of you look out at the plane passing through the window. 

“you know, you’re super talented.” you say, out of the blue, and immediately regret it, thinking you were giving away too much. he turns to you, you observe through your peripheral vision, almost like he knows you have more to say. 

“i mean. the way you just performed like it was breathing to you, it really is rare to see talent like that, especially in this dump of a town.” you finish, clearing your throat in the end, waiting for him to say something. 

“i don’t know what to say,”

“for starters, a thank you would suffice,” you quip, a humorous tone tagging along. 

he starts to rise from his seat, “thanks, i do appreciate it. it’s difficult for me to take compliments, though, if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

you ignore him, “oh yeah, you probably have to leave, sorry to keep yo-”

“no no! i love helping other students, you weren’t keeping me from anything else. i just have band practice in a few, so i have to get going,” 

you swear you hear regret in his voice but maybe you liked to lie to yourself. 

as you watch him see himself out, you wait for him to turn around, say something. 

come on, don’t leave without giving me something. 

“oh by the way,” ray turns around. you hope he doesn’t notice your eyes gleam at the sudden lightbulb moment of his. 

“there’s a mixer on sunday. the band’s gonna be there. you should come, if you’re not busy.”

you nod, and he leaves with a promise that he’ll text you the address. 

he does, followed by a text that says, “hope 2 c u :)”, and you receive a side eye from your roommate who watches you bury your face in your pillow and kick your feet. something about the way ray had to peel his eyes off your legs subconsciously makes you pick something that shows them off, ending up with fishnets and a short skirt you bought on a whim months ago that collected dust in the back of your closet. 

at this point, you know one thing. ray isn’t straight. you very well know you can imagine and exaggerate situations to fit your narrative, and that very well may be the case, but you don’t care. 

it’s your last year. it doesn’t matter if you’re rejected or if you really are imagining things. senioritis in university makes you hit a special low where you could care less what happened. you borrow a jacket from your roommate, ignoring the comment on how she would be really mad if you got ray’s jizz on it. 

*

sunday rolls in and your stomach does not stop jumping. you had somehow completed all your work ahead of time without having to ask ray for help. anxiety was nowhere to be found, just excitement and a little bit of nervousness to see him after days of texting him. 

he had sent you a picture of the dinosaur sticker on his drawer unprompted, and your heart skipped a beat at the notification before you began having conversations that extended late into the night. 

late night conversations turn into exchanging music recommendations and funny videos you find. he sends you videos of his band playing, and he’s the only one you watch, but of course you say, “you guys are going to make it big someday.”

saturday night before turning in, you text him.

-good luck. can’t wait to see you guys perform.

-you’re sweet.

you keep going back to the text, giggling at it throughout the day, even as you get dressed for the mixer. you keep telling yourself he’s being nice but you are at the event, looking around for ray or gerard, or anyone you know. a rotating light hung low in the middle of the floor, a small podium for people to perform at the mixer. people hover around the bar, clearly no age check involved in the process as they swipe drinks and trail off with a huge smile on their faces. 

you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you swear your heart jumps into your throat. 

“ray! i’ve been trying to find you forever.” you look up at him, a sliver of purple and pink lights from the disco ball light streaks across his face like an illuminated scar. 

“so have i, come on back, this place is just for the general public,” he nods his head toward the other direction, fingers grabbing your wrist and nudging you toward him.

“ooo, i feel like a groupie,” you comment, and you hear him giggle, thanking god he doesn’t take you seriously no matter how much you want your words to be true. 

gerard sips a cigarette indoors, frank tunes his guitar with an ear down to the strings, and mikey is nowhere to be found. gerard looks amused at you as he blows smoke out. ray steps out to grab drinks, and you feel vulnerable. exposed. 

“so…” gerard begins, and you know he’s not about to make small talk, “ray has told me a lot about you.”

“all of us actually,” frank interjects, and you look at both of them, bewildered. 

“oh,” he talks about you? “all good things, i hope.”

“oh yes, overwhelmingly.” gerard ashes the stick between his fingers on the crystal tray near him. you sense mischief in his voice as he gives you the same head-to-toe scan that he did the first time you met him. 

“ray isn’t the outgoing type,” mikey walks in. you turn around in surprise to see him without his beanie and glasses for the first time. you can see how similar his features are to gerard’s. 

“yet, here you are, after what?” gerard tilts his head, “a week of meeting him?”

his tone isn’t malicious, nothing he says could sound malicious because he knew how to talk to people, how to handle them. that’s what made him a good frontman. 

“would you be surprised if i say i don’t gel well with strangers either?” you shrug and straighten your back, trying not to seem so timid around them.

they chuckle with you at the irony of the statement, gerard simply says, “i like you,”

you tilt your head slightly, not sure what to say and gerard offers you his cigarette, “ray doesn’t trust people often. and when he does he’s rarely wrong.”

you wave his offer with a small “no, thanks,” and he continues, “i hope he isn’t wrong.”

*

“are you okay?” ray asks you after the show, a beer in his right hand as he leans back into the wall of the green room. 

“yeah, i’m fine, i think i was just too close to the speakers so my head hurts a bit,” 

you aren’t fine. you’re thinking about what gerard said to you, and you barely paid attention to the performance and focused on distracting yourself with a shot of tequila that burned deliciously down your throat. 

you make eye contact with gerard across the room who is sitting on frank’s lap for some reason, his stare less threatening at this point because ray is there. he can’t be obvious. 

gut slowly burning and the alcohol in your system climbing up to your head, you ask ray if he wants shots and before you know it you’re carrying a small tray of salt and slices of lime with two little vials of tequila. 

“do you know how to do this?” you ask, not knowing what you got yourself into. 

“yeah it's super simple,” you hear, trying your best not to giggle at his go-to phrase, “lick, shoot, and suck.”

you dip the back of your hand in the hill of salt, where the index finger and the thumb meet, you glance at ray once before nodding, and lick up a stripe of your hand. ray does the same and you try not to think about the fact that that is how he would look between your legs. you throw your head back in unison with ray, squinted eyes and sour face, sucking at the bright green slice of fruit before smacking your lips. 

ray sits beside you, thighs pressed up against yours, leaning into you, giggling. a rosy blush rises to his cheeks, and his eyelids lie lower than before. your body is on fire. tipsy words making you stutter and laugh for no reason, forgetting about what gerard said for a while. 

ray walks you to your dorm that night, stumbling on the street and giggling at nothing in particular. you clutch his shirt for support as you burst into a fit of laughter at a joke he makes, not caring if you’re loud. 

the lingering breeze in the air makes your skin feel less hot even though being near ray was enough to make you sweat through a leather jacket. the streetlights shine down on the two of you, slowing down in your path and strolling, kicking pebbles and making a game out of them.

you ask him how he got into playing guitar, he tells you a story about how he got ripped off buying his first guitar that broke in the first fifteen minutes of playing it. you tell him about your university experience, your plans for your career. 

he beams at you with genuine admiration in his eyes, eyes softening. the spirit had weakened its effects on your body; you walked with a straighter back and a higher chin than before. almost like a gateway opening for your anxiety. 

“so, gerard told me something,” you begin, not sure what you want to know from striking this topic up.

“hm? what’d he say?” he asks, kicking the poor pebble on the pavement. 

“he said you don’t make friends that easily.” it sounds bad out loud, but you know that he knows what you mean. 

he chortles, “yeah? what else did he say?”

you raise an eyebrow, as if checking with him if you should continue, “he just… he said he hopes you’re not wrong with me.”

the two of you enter your dorm, shuffling through pockets and keycards. ray stays quiet. you noticed he does that when he isn’t ready to talk just yet because he’s thinking of the most logical and rational answer possible.

“why did he-” he begins, and you listen, ignoring the fact that ray follows you to your actual room, trying to justify his friend’s words. 

“he said something about how you can’t stop talking about me and thinking about me,” you flash a shit-eating grin, his eyes widening immediately. 

“that fucker…” he trails off, his head dropping down in defeat. 

“so it’s true?” you ask, leaning your back against the main door, a foot propped up on the surface. your back is straight, if not arched. you feel the after effects of downing two shots of fireball take over, the haze of the liquor blurs the line between “study buddies.”

he steps closer to you. there’s barely anyone outside in the hallways, they are either out partying or fast asleep. his hand trails up the doorframe, palm against the bumped surface. he’s so big that he casts a shadow over you from the main light. you notice his eyes trace your figure, backed up against a door, at his mercy. 

his left arm trails up your waist and stays there, “do you want it to be?” 

*

your bodies move in the dark, an orchestra of heavy breaths and moans bouncing off your dorm’s walls. the posters in your room are but flies on the wall as ray carries you to your bed, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. you lick into his mouth, his warm and soft lips slick with your saliva engulfing yours. 

you breathe in, the scent of his sweat driving your senses into a frenzy and your grip on his hair tenses up. he pulls away to look at your face under the moonlight beaming through your frosted window. ray tastes like the tequila you downed with him, deliciously bitter and intoxicating, his shiny lips sending waves of lightning to your clit. 

neither of you have spoken a word, fingers and lips grabbing and groping each other like hormonal teenagers away from their families at summer camp. ray places you on your bed, your sheets suddenly feeling foreign to you with him hovering above you, his fingers nosing toward the curve of your ass. 

involuntary whimpers escape your throat as his fingers stroke down the back of your thighs; he hooks one of them to the fishnets and rips them in one go, handling your thighs like he starves for something more than open mouthed kisses over his lips that make his cock stir in his tight jeans. the gasp you let out is more out of pleasure and surprise, and less of you mourning the loss of your clothing. 

“all this time, toro, yo- ah, fuck you- you liked me?” you kiss his neck as he works on peeling the fishnets off your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders, elbows digging into your mattress, leaving kisses up your inner thighs. your arousal was obvious, ray- even you- could smell it through your underwear. 

ray stops and climbs up to face you, his fingers stroking your happy trail and you buck your hips for more just at his touch at your sensitive waist. he asks you if you’re okay and if you want to stop, you need to tell him. 

you grab him by his collar and pull him in, teeth clashing, skin feeling like a burning matchstick, flame eating away at its wooden body. you blabber nonsense, not able to get enough of his full lips around yours; hands lacing around his waist pulling him so close that if he didn’t pull away you would be crushed by his body weight. he kisses down your stomach, his calloused fingers soothing under your hoodie and to your breasts, tracing under the mounds of flesh before his hands flew to your thighs. 

soft trailing kisses become warm, careful presses down your stomach. you breathe like you don’t want him to hear how bad you need him, but your efforts are soon wasted as he presses his nose against your clit. 

inner thighs pressing into his ears, hips bucking up to the warmth of his mouth over the damp cotton underwear, you look down at him, locks of curls falling beautifully over his eyes. his tongue licks a stripe up through the fabric, the frills of your skirt resembling one of those bell-curves ray drew on the whiteboard the first time you met him, with him underneath it.

skilled tongue that circles on your clit before curling his digits under the hem of your panties, yanking the fabric off your skin, a sudden chill making you feel exposed. ray doesn’t let you feel that way any longer; his tongue licks up the folds of your pussy, tasting you whole and you almost pass out from the sheer euphoria locking down the ends of your spine on your bed, the arch in your back pushing your clit further against his nose. 

you beg and beg and beg him to do something. he simply chuckles and swipes the pad of his thumb on your slit before dipping his middle finger into you, a guttural groan emanating from your throat. your feet move against his crotch and you feel his dick strain against his tight jeans, his tongue replacing his finger and tugging you into his face, delving into you. 

hands thread through his curls, clutching and pulling at him needing to feel a release expeditiously. the hotness of his mouth against your pulsing core has you palming your tits hoodie, playing and pinching at your nipples. 

teeth pulling at the skin on your thighs, making you moan helplessly has him circling your clit with his thumb, wanting to hear more of your voice. you chant his name like a prayer, like he would somehow lift your soul up to the heavens with his tongue. 

his stubble adds delectable friction to your cunt and you gasp like your life depends on him; you forget everything. every word, every person in the world, every fucking thing is wiped clean like patterns in the sand under the foamy waves of the ocean. 

your thighs clench around his head, the honestly fucking corrupt noises of him devouring your pussy muffling under the flesh of your tastefully bruised thighs. he hums lowly, gulping and licking and gorging, the vibrations of his voice (that you didn’t know could get that fuckin low) driving you closer to the white light of orgasm that seems so close. 

his moans crescendo as the heels of your feet grind into his cock, his lips pressing and sucking harder at your clit, his fingers that once moved carefully in your slick walls, now quickening and curling up into you. 

you plead, you beg, you pray to him, hips jerking againsts mouth as his teeth lightly graze over the swollen lips of your cunt, your nails scratch his scalp perfectly, the tip of his tongue licks up your clit perfectly and his fingers, oh his fingers, scratch an itch seated so deep inside you that you swear you see stars before tipping over the edge, bottom lips falling open in a silent plea.

you ride his nose, his tongue, you push his head down, fist his hair, do whatever it takes, to make your orgasm last as long as possible, ankles meeting at the back of his neck. the way your legs shake at his last lap on your swollen clit, moonlight reflecting off of his beautiful brown eyes and your arousal dripping down his chin makes you go dizzier- if it was even fucking possible- and you feel like you’re high on the world’s most euphoric drug. 

you smile down at him, fingers holding his cheeks gently, nudging him up to meet your face; his palms digging into your ruined sheets on either side of you, lowering his wet lips onto yours, wanting you to taste yourself against his tongue. you breathe into his kiss, his hair falling on your face, you feel him smile against your mouth and you suddenly remember. 

“ray, do you want me to-” you start, eyebrows twisting up in concern and he cuts you off with another sweet kiss to your lips.

“you expect me to not cream my pants when you’re splayed out like this in front of me, in this little fucking thing around your waist?” his words sound harsh, but admiration fills his eyes, and you know it’s just an amalgamation of what the both of you have been feeling for the past few days. 

“you fucking-” you sputter, still recovering from incredible high- the type of orgasm that the little toy in your nighstand or your fingers could never give you, “-you fucker.”

he sits back on the bed, pulling down your skirt and helping you up to sit, his hands sturdy as a brick wall holding you up while your legs still solidify. as viciously as he ate you out mere minutes ago, he was back to being himself, sweet, nerdy, kind ray. helpful as ever. 

“can i take you out tomorrow?” he asks, his thumb stroking yours, like he’s afraid he’ll break you. 

you kiss his neck and then his jaw, smiling up at him, “just text me the address.”

[the-gay-disney-games]

Round 1A: The Little Mermaid (1989) vs. The Great Mouse Detective (1986)

Propaganda:

The Little Mermaid:

“It's an allegory about transitioning under the Benjamin Standards actually.”

“Like. c'mon. the original fairytale its based on was literally written by a closeted gay man as a metaphor for how his love for another man was doomed. also ursula is a drag queen”

“She's trans-human, or something. The Queer experience of wanting to know what else is out there, if there are people like you, like you in your soul, put there. Of wanting to go to a place where you are safe to ask everything you want to ask and be whatever way you want to be.”

“any movie howard ashman writes lyrics for is gonna be pretty gay”

“The trans metaphor is right there, guys!! Plus Ursula being based on a Drag Queen. And most importantly: Howard Ashman.”

“The original story is about Hans Christian Andersen being in love with a man but knowing he could never be with him. And the movie itself is very queer. You could read queerness into Ariel’s fascination with the human world and wanting to be part of that world rather than the one she “belongs” in. Being willing to cut off contact and move far away from your family because you’ll never be accepted by them, especially after a parent violently rejects something important to or about you. Ursula.”

“a lot of ink has been spilled on why the little mermaid is a metaphor for internalised homophobia, with hans christian anderson's own thoughts regarding his bisexuality coming through in the character of the princess (ariel) who wans to be a real woman so she can be with the man she loves. this also lends itself ot trans readings in the mdoern day. of course, the 1989 film was written by howard ashman, himself a gay man, and it is possible to read the alternate, happier ending to this film adaptation as a hopeful retelling for gay people towards the end of the 20th century. its gay”

“Part of Your World??? Ariel literally transitioning from a mermaid to a human. bYE”

“Girl have you Seen or Heard the behind the scenes of Ursula”

“Ursula literally being based on the drag queen Divine”

“The whole plot is a trans allegory imo. Ariel feeling like she’s be happy with “just one day on land” screamsssss trans person wanting to be seen as their gender. Plus she literally got “bottom surgery” lmao. (Tl;dr: I’m trans and it’s my fav so I say so. /j)”

“hans christian anderson wrote the little mermaid as an allegory for being gay. therefore these films are literally gay. disney swept it under the rug but i will not. also that "i can't believe we're both goth and trans" post”

The Great Mouse Detective:

“The protagonist, Basil, and antagonist, Ratigain, are practically bitter exes. Basil literally has a giant photo of his “”””enemy”””” above his fireplace, come on!”

“Vincent Price as Ratigan is so obviously over the top queer coded, but this is one of the few Disney movies where the protagonist, Basil, is also queer coded. It’s more subtle, but all Sherlock Holmes type characters are queer coded. Also the movie ends with Basil asking Dawson, this movie’s Watson, to stay and live with him so yeah”

“As per usual, Basil (Holmes) is V queer. Confirmed bachelor, immediately ready to play happy homes with Watson, Ratigan is Basil's flamboyant ex.”

“i can't explain it but basil the mouse is gay and so is the vincent price rat”

“It’s based on Sherlock Holmes so right away the Basil/Dawson relationship is. Very queer. Also Ratigan is a queer-coded villain.”

[dragontamerno3]

DS9 S2 E19 - Blood Oath

I love Kor so much. He's my favorite Klingon lol

This is the first Jadzia centered episode I enjoyed and it made me realize just how perfect she is for Worf in later seasons. It was clear that she valued Klingon culture before but this one really highlighted how deep it goes for her as well as how much she KNOWS Klingons as a whole, too. She pushed all the right buttons, said all the right things. I enjoyed seeing her like this.

Back to Kor for a second. I've seen all the image sets of the trans allegory between Curzon and Jadzia so I knew that scene was coming but I was not prepared for how smoothly he took it. Not only was it a smooth transition between one to the other, he also was constantly defending her "brother, sister, what does it matter" and the like. Kor treated her like an equal the entire time and I have mad respect for him for that alone. Plus he was just super fun.

The way the episode was framed it was apparent to me that she'd end up going along somehow so I was curious to see how she did but I wasn't expecting a suicide mission from Kang as that doesn't feel like the Klingon way. That said I really appreciate him trying to stop her before he finally relents because of his secret plans, he knew she was not the old man he once knew and there was no reason to drag her to her death. But she's as stubborn as the other Klingons, so she wouldn't drop it.

I don't have a lot to say about Koloth. His death in battle was one that he wanted and he was an asshole up until that point. The only thing about him that was worth noting to me was how he realized Jadzia's strengths were varied and wide after his little sparring matching with her and that's rare for even Klingons at times. I'm glad he got to die with honor, though.

I also appreciate the episode not making Jadzia a killer, though I personally think she would have done it, but instead sat there and let the man who was hurting more take the final blow. Narratively Kang deserved it and so it was a satisfying end to see. I really do think Jadzia would have gutted the man if she was the only one left standing though, without hesitation.

The thing I take issue with in this episode was Jadzia asking Kira how many people she killed in the most insensitive manner possible. Even with her head wrapped up in the turmoil of the impending possibilities I feel like Jadzia, with the many lifetimes of Trill memories and empathy in her head, would have asked differently.

That and Kira being a snitch to Sisko about Jadzia's plans.

7.5/10 - this feels like one of those episodes that I might skip to just to play on its own sometimes

[sehtoast]

Is it me or not many people simp for Homelander compared to other villains? It’s like people can’t say they find him hot without getting jumped and i just don’t understand why? There’re villains who have done way worse and people still like them so why is it any different with Homelander, he is literally fictional and never harmed anyone in real life. What do you think is the reason?

Prepare yourself. This is gonna be a long one lol:

For what it’s worth, I feel like a lot more people do simp for him than are open about it for exactly what you just said. I’ve rarely seen fandoms respond to people liking a character the way people jump at us for liking Homelander.  The amount of hate mail I've received and seen others get and the genuinely FOUL things that have been said are just absolutely crazy. Like I’ve seen less kickback for people simping for real-world mass shooters and serial killers than I have for fans of Homie, which is WILD but yeah!!

I think it’s because Kripke decided to make him a Trump allegory that makes people so quick to jump us over it honestly. I feel like if he wasn’t, a LOT more people would openly like him too. 

More below the cut:

90% of the criticisms I see toward Homie fans is “he’s LITCHERALLY TRUMP” and/or something about Stormfront.  Some people go the “he’s a r*pist” route, which, sure, valid, but then this is not the same energy a lot of fans of r*pist characters have gotten.  I remember with shows like GoT, where characters could be any number of awful things (including r*pists), there wasn’t necessarily as much vilification of people for liking those characters, and, even though I didn’t watch much of the show, I know daaaaamn well we got some qualifiers in there.  That’s just an example, and there’s certainly others that prove the point. Soldier Boy was downright HORRIBLE to the women he was around, but we barely see criticism there and it's pretty heavily implied he's ignored consent many times in his own time given the way he treats women - plus we know he s*xually abused Gunpowder. Anyway, if that energy isn’t being directed in nearly the same capacity there or elsewhere, then it’s primarily likely to be either reason one or two, and I definitely would put my money on number one.  And like, being a Homelander enjoyer has not made me a Trump enjoyer. In fact, I have a pretty visceral reaction of disgust every time I see that rat bitch on the news lmao.  

Being a Homelander simp certainly does not mean we approve of his every act, but media morality police think this is not the case. I think a lot of people– and this was 100% exacerbated during covid shutdowns imo– have started to see media consumption as a form of morality and feel as though your enjoyment of something is a perfect spreadsheet of who you are as a person.  I mean, there have always been people like this, but it’s gotten worse and significantly more annoying in recent years.  I think the death of media literacy is also contributing heavily here because there being a lack of critical thinking associated with media consumption has so many people painting everything in a purely black and white context. Like this is good, this is bad, there is no middle ground in which people can consume this or appreciate that without it being a moral violation.  Which is… increasingly concerning lol.   

All media has problematic elements somewhere/somehow, and basically all characters do as well.  However, very few have the director jerking off and going “i’m SOOOOO smart for comparing him to trump omfg” and constantly shoving shoehorned political and social commentary into the script the way Kripke does (ask me how I felt about the transphobia ‘commentary’ this season and I will write you a thesis paper about how bad, ineffective, and mostly insulting to trans viewers it was). He’s so fired up to make the two a mirror image that even Antony Starr has said he’s sometimes checking Kripke and telling him that taking it too far reduces the character to one or two dimensional at best unless the comparisons directly relate to the narrative of the character.   The allegories have been effective in keeping people (for the most part) from viewing Homelander as a hero, but it’s also created a lot of senseless vitriol for people who actually do enjoy the character whether strictly because of the character himself or because they’re simping (I do both 😂).

So uh… that’s my extremely long two-cents. Hopefully it makes sense as I’m a little sleep deprived at the moment and just got out of a two hour long lecture lol

[stanlunter]

Characters that I think are actually straight even tho a lot of people consider them as queer:

Bc I have the whole hour before Pride Month and I'm bored, lol

Rainer. Well, he didn't show to have feelings for any male characters (and no, I don't think he likes Bertholomulo, he litterally ships him with Annie), only to Historia, plus he just doesn't give me this vibes, so yeah

Bojack main five. All of them have shown interest only to the opposite gender, so there are no reasons for them to be anything rather than straight. The only exception can be Mr Peanutbutter with his interest in Bojack bc of which I don't mind people hc him as bi, but I think it was just a platonic admiration, nothing more. Also hc any of them as aro or ace (except Todd, obviously) doesn't make sense either, since we know damn well that all of them are very romantic and almost all of them are very sexual

Howleen. I can see her being bi, but I personally don't think she's actually interested in women. She was shown to have interest in men, but women? Just no. Twyls is her bestie, not a gf. I don't mind headcanons ofc, but I just don't see it

Denji. I mean, this guy is obsessed with women and never shown interest in men, he's straight as a line, sorry

Rika & Momoe. I really don't know where it even comes from, but a lot of people hc Rika as lesbian, while she's pretty much canon straight. She litterally says "I wish you was a boy" line and you still don't get it?

What about Momoe... This one confuses me even more. For some reason the whole fandom thinks Momoe is barely canon bi/trans, I have to fully desagree with this, cuz it basically goes against her whole arc

No, she wasn't in love with her friend that killed herself. That basically was the point that her friend killed herself bc Momoe didn't like her back (at least I read it this way). In fact, Momoe litterally was sad bc only women were attracted to her bc they thought she waa a boy. While she wanted a man to find her attracted. So it makes no sense for her to like girls.

Trans think is mb arguble, but I interpritate her story as an experience of being gender nonconforming: she doesn't look like a gender she is. I don't see any trans allegories here, especially considering the fact that we have a canon trans character there, Im pretty sure, if the creators wanted Momoe to be trans, they would say she is. Also the fact that she could get in this "magical world" , since only afab can go there (considering the fact that Kaoru, as a transman, got there)

Shinji & Kaoru. Yes, this one is super objectionable. Tbh, I can see him being bi, as everybody thinks he is. However, I do like another explanation of his character arc and his relationship with Kaoru, bc It's just much more interesting than him just being bisexual

Well, in the way I see it, Shinji is straight and basically can be only attracted to girls, however, Kaoru is the only person that showed "love" to Shinji and who "cared" about him. While everyone else were rejecting and just using him, Kaoru is the first person who said Shinji he loves him and the only one that basically didn't want anything from him. Who could give Shinji unconditional love he can't get from others. And I really do not think that Shinji loved him "back" in romantic way. Imo, he didn't love him at all, but since Kaoru was the only one who gave Shinji at least some love, Shinji had no other choice than take this love anyways. Just bc it was the only way for him to feel loved in general. And to me this idea reveales Shinji's character much better than just "he's bisexual, that's why he hang out with Kaoru" and "Kaoru exists only for lgbt rep" (also have to add that It's only about original anime, not rebuilds, bc I basically haven't watched it and mb It's different there)

What about Kaoru? Kaoru isn't a human to have feelings or love. In reality he doesn't care about Shinji, he just pretended to love him only to find out what love for humans is. So ofc I don't think he's straight either. He just doesn't have feelings bc he's not a human and not even a person. He's just an angel who pretended to be a boy to know humans better

Ramona (from the movie). I thought this one is basically canon, but for some reason some people still think she's bi. Yes, she had relationship with another girl, but she has litterally said that she was just "a little bi-curious" - which literally means that she's straight and just wanted to have this experience and that she's not wlw in any way, unlike Roxie. Imo, headcanoning movie Ramona is bi is kinda even biphobic, since it sounds exactly like this stereotype that bi girls only play with girls and always chose men anyways

Higuchi. This take isn't as strong, but I just personally don't see her as wlw. She's obsessed with Ryunosuke and has never shown any sign of being interested in Gin, so yeah, I think she's just straight and gives me these vibes tbh

Annie & Hitch. Again, both girls that have shown interest only to men. Annie loves Armin, and, even tho I don't like Aruani, It's litterally canon and even has some build up. And Hitch talks only about men as well. Also I really love her relationship with Marlo and their love was really so important. Yeah, both of them could be bisexual, but I just don't see this. The only hc Im really against is any of them being lesbian, bc it just doesn't make sense

Lute. I mean, she's litterally homophobic and It's basically canon. And she didn't show any signs of being closest gay/bi anyways and Imo she loves Adam. Idk why would she be anything besides homophobic straight. Like, I can see Adam being bi, but Lute? Nah

And yeah, if anyone thinks me seing some characters as straights makes me homophobic, I advise you to use your brain or smth. Anyways, that's just my vision which I'm not trying to impose on anyone, lol

[flashfuture]

I'm just thinking in terms of 2024 Pride they're probably going to slowly keep making certain characters come out. Not too popular but around the fringes. Like not Bruce Clark or Ollie but their kids. And who is missing now is a modern Green Lantern. So I'm trying to guess here

Hal was during his Spectre run canonically genderfluid. I checked no other spectre host before has swapped from their living gender. A writer could discover this and go with it. But Hal might be too mainstream, too much of a possibility for a movie coming up and they might not want to rock the boat.

Guy Gardner since his inception has been a trans allegory. What with his costume being different his name being Guy him going shirtless only when he had body warping shapeshifting powers for a moment. Two transphobic storylines of his body becoming a woman's and him flipping out. So by that alone DC owes it to make him trans.

^^ If DC were not cowards they could do Both Hal and Guy and show Space Genders and break open the mold of what is gender. But I don't think this is what will happen.

Another alternative I've kind of tapped into recently is expanding on Judd Winnick Kyle Rayner run. Specifically, why was there emphasis placed on Kyle never having thought about sexuality and taking his friend's gay bashing beyond personally? They're STILL going on about Alex and I think they could have Kyle confess to a construct of Alex/her grave what he's feeling about men. An easy way to pick up the threads of a secondary but popular Green Lantern character and make him the artist type bisexual. Plus it would be really funny for Tim Connor and Kyle three characters made popular in the 90s to all come out. I think that DC is Most likely to do this.

Option two on the bisexual train is Jessica Cruz was once using a dating app and had the option "male or female hmm" was like the basic quote. Implying she was maybe debating it. But I don't see DC really rocking the Jessica Cruz boat right now they don't seem all that interested in her but you never know !

These are just my guesses/wishes if I'm honest. DC could throw a random curveball out there about anyone at any time.

[sailorsplatoon]

so in the musician au, can we get some headcannons after parallel cannon after leaving the memverse(for some reason i can see pc as a trans allegory bc she wants to be a real inkling but feel like they can't, you get what im saying?)

The trans allegory is so good omg. I love that so much!!!

It can be like, after finding out that they’re a clone, Parallel Canon started to really desprately want to be a real inkling, but they feel like they shouldn’t. They know that they’re just a clone and worry that Four and the others will tell them that wanting to be a real inkling is weird or a bad idea. But this desire gets so strong to the point that they feel like they are a real inkling, just not in every way. And this is entirely true. Since they’re a clone of Four, who’s a real inkling, they have the mind of a real inkling, they just don’t have a physicial body. This really strengthens the trans allegory because what they are doesn’t match them physically.

Parallel Canon eventually feels like they need to tell Four about this, and rather than Four reacting poorly like they expected, Four supports them entirely. This is when Four starts to work with Marina on building them a physicial body (which is like getting on hormones or getting a surgery). When Parallel finally gets to have this physical body, they are so excited (first time feeling gendder euphoria). They decide that they want to spend the rest of their life like this because they are a real inkling, just when they were created they weren’t physically.

Sorry, I know you asked about headcanons and then I went on a tangent about a trans allegory. Headcanon time now!

They can’t keep going by Parallel Canon, that’s kind of their deadname now I guess, so they start going by Elle (because parallel).

They begin to forge their own identity outside of being Agent 4’s clone. Over time, they grow into their own person. Them and Four are certainly still similar in a lot of ways, but they’ve also become different in some. Having that sense of individuality is super important to both of them. 

Elle loves to play ink battles and has a pretty good reputation. They don’t have one specific main though, and are fairly good with all the classes. They like to change it up often. Having to use the same splattershot for so long got boring, so now they like to try out all different kind of weapons.

They can’t really eat, since their body is a robot, but they still like to buy food just to look at it. This food often ends up at Four’s apartment in hopes that they will eat it. 

Elle also doesn’t need sleep, but they still lay down in a bed every night. They enjoy being underneath the warm blankets, plus they can take that time to recharge their battery or do any updates they might need. 

Thank you for the ask!!! That’s all I’ve got for now, but I’m sure I’ll come up with more! I think I’m slowly turning Parallel Canon into my own oc lol.