#quite plainly

[albatris]

I totally understand the push back against therapy speak in novels when it's boring and shoehorned in and out of character and Every Character but like therapy speak itself isn't the problem, it's about whether it's Interesting, whether it's In Character, whether there's still conflict, etc etc etc n like

1) how many genre fiction books can you honestly name where a psychotic character speaks frankly about their psychosis

2) there is still a lot of interesting ground to explore with a character who HAS been in therapy and knows the lingo

3) there's really really funny potential for a character who speaks all the therapy speak and knows Why they're deranged but is still absolutely deranged

[secriden]

So, I get that Style "knowing" and choosing Fadel anyway in episode 5 still isn't enough for some people, because (as pointed out by others) he still hasn't physically witnessed all that Fadel is capable of: for eg. he hasn't actually seen Fadel shoot (at) / kill someone yet.

But here's the thing, he did watch Fadel dispatch 3 guys with ruthless - and, more importantly, evidently skilled - efficiency and also unnecessarily* break a guy's arm with his thighs... and Style just got more attracted and intrigued. Fear and flight isn't naturally a big part of Style's personality, and violence isn't enough to deter him. Which is why I totally buy how quickly Style gets over his initial apprehension in episode 5 (a little fear, but no flight) and why he came back even after Fadel punched him in the guts in episode 4 (violence isn't a deterrent).

*forever amused by how unnecessary it was for Fadel to do it like that. He was totally trying to intimidate Style and maybe (definitely) showing off for the boy he was actively refusing to admit he wanted carnally.

Moreover, his reaction to Kant's (legitimate) worry for his ex is, "Dude, worry about your own skin!" Style clearly feels that they don't have room to be concerned about any 3rd (or 5th) parties being caught in the collateral damage of Kant's scheme, even if he eventually gives in to Kant's plea for help (again, because something that Style does have is loyalty).

Edit: I forgot to add these other examples in, but in episode 1 we see Style kind of shrug off the idea that Fadel could have stolen his car despite the way he expressed quite validly that Fadel was acting weird about not wanting to show the proper paperwork for the car. Similarly, we never see Style surprised/shocked about Kant's background in crime, which makes me wonder if he already knew and was okay with it.

I love that this show is explicitly showing us that Style is just as morally grey as the other 3 main characters. He may not have done anything close to what the others have (that we've seen so far), but he has the disposition and character traits to stand beside them.

So yes, absolutely when they get to the scene with Fadel shooting someone over Style's shoulder and just generally brandishing a gun, Style is going to once again have to come to terms with what it means to choose to love a killer, but I am 1000000% certain of his choice. Not (just) because the genre and narrative and source material are all pointing towards it, but because fundamentally this is exactly how Style's character would respond.

Style says "I'll be your 100%" and it's going to be true even if it isn't yet, because Style isn't a "good" character, morally speaking, but dammit he is just perfectly made for Fadel.

[hannahssimblr]

She’s with the cocaine guy now, the girl with the pink hair. Forlorn look on her face as she tries to get him to drink some water. I feel her eyes on me as I pass. Of course they know each other, those two. I should have guessed. They’re probably on the same drugs. 

Evie’s in the booths now, with Claire, Shane and Jen. A jolt of anxiety at the sight of her there beside her bags of gifts, still crushed into the corner of the seats, but I adopt a nice casual stride over, drop onto the seat beside her.

“Hey,” she says, and smiles faintly before gazing across the bar to the table I just passed, brows knitting.

“Yeah, hey."

I nudge her gently. 

“Hey, who are those two? They’re a bit… intense.”

“Oh, they’re… from college.”

“Okay, well, can I be honest?”

“Yeah,” eyes on me now.

“That girl is weird. She was telling me about her polyamorous relationship and how her boyfriend is into bondage. Offered to tie me up in his house if I came home with them.”

Evie’s face twitches, then smooths out into something neutral, like a learned response. “Hm, okay. And what did you say to that?”

“Obviously I was like, fuck yes. Gimme some of that.”

She tries to smile, but it flattens. She tucks her hair behind her ear, looks away. “Okay, well, that’s clearly the only acceptable response.”

“Yeah, good offer, right?”

“Right. And him?” She gestures toward the guy, forehead on the table now, the girl scanning the place desperately for someone else. “Did he say something to you?” 

“Not really, just tried to sell me bag in the toilets.” 

“Oh.”

“I actually walked in on him trying to do a bump off the wall mirror.”

Her palm comes to her forehead. “Oh, God,” she breathes. “Sorry, I actually am just feeling a bit stupid.”

“What? Why?”

“No, I just thought he was drunk.”

“Um,” another glance at him, probably completely unconscious at this point. “He’s probably drunk, too, but nah, he’s out of it, Evie. No doubt. I saw him–yeah, it’s definitely drugs.” 

“Oh, well, that’s awful then.”

I can’t help smiling a bit. Seeing an innocence in her distress, finding it a bit endearing. An urge comes to comfort her about it, teeth worrying at her lip like a puritanical fourteen year old who just found out her friend went rogue and tried a cigarette. 

“It’s not that awful though, is it?” I say, dipping my head to level my gaze with hers. “You know, a bit of coke. It’s–everyone does it a bit, don’t they?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d know since you live here now, is all.” 

She scoffs in outrage, indignant that others would have the temerity. “Well excuse me, but am I the only one who actually cared about the anti-drug posters hanging up in school? Of the woman with the horrible scabs all over her face? I couldn’t look at it. I had to avert my eyes if it was lunchtime, or whatever, and I was trying to eat a sandwich.”

I want very badly to laugh, but her face is so serious. Huff instead, an easy shrug, like, yeah, fair point. “I suppose some people get scabbed up a bit, to be honest, yeah. That’s a legitimate concern. Still, people will do whatever is fun. I think you’d probably have what’s considered quite an extreme view.”

“Do you do them?”

I blink. “Drugs?”

“Yes.”

Pick a thread in my jeans. From catching myself on a nail in some customer’s stairwell. “I have done, yeah. Not lately.”

“Hm.”

“Have I changed in your eyes?” 

“No, it’s… like. I just hate to feel naïve.”

“It’s fine.”

She brings her fingers to her nose, pinching at her nostrils. Like she’s wiping away phantom powder. Her nails are short, bitten-looking. “Maybe I should get with the times and start doing them, you think?” 

I laugh. “Yes, Evie. Very much your style.”

“Can’t imagine it, either.” A shake of her head, a look of amusement in her eyes, as she tries to picture it. Impossible. Like if Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls lit up a smoke. Makes me want to laugh—the absurdity, until a wave of protectiveness hits me. Glancing again at the table with those two as the backs of my hands prickle. Strange dread. A sort of knowing. 

She squeezes her hand, flexes it before reaching across the table for her drink. I remember that specific gesture. I learned she did it when she was nervous. When someone in the group asked her a question. Before she leaped off the rocks into the sea. She did it with me when she knew I was about to kiss her, neon light glowing through her ears like paper. Looking so serious, like kissing me back was something that required thought and preparation. It nearly killed me how soft she was. Now I don’t know what she is. 

“Whatever you do, make sure it’s because you want to. Not because of anyone else,” I say, then shrink, instantly cringing. Who am I, her dad? Sounding so superior, but I can’t help the way my voice is. How it reflects this horror I feel of these weird people circling her in the water. 

We both fall quiet for a beat, music thudding around us. Stupid lyrics, Shawty fire-burning on the dancefloor, or whatever her current dilemma is. I shouldn’t have said anything to Evie. Should have said “cool” or something, then I wouldn’t have sounded like a cop.  

“All I want to do is leave this party, to be honest,” she says, hands moving now to her stomach, chuckling at herself. “I’m so hungry. All I can think about is food.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m starving.” 

“You want to get some?”

Her expression is timid, embarrassed to have to say it. “Nah, it’s too late. Everywhere is probably closed.” 

Slip my phone from my pocket, then. It’s near one AM. “There’s places still open for sure. We can get the gang moving, if you want.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “I feel so bad saying it, but yeah, I actually do want to go. Is that rotten of me?”

“No, never.” I wave across to the others, deep in their own conversation. “Food,” I yell. “We’re getting food. Are you guys in?”

“Are you mad?” says Jen. “After that feast we had earlier? No, I’m good. You go.” The others nod. 

I turn back to Evie. “You okay if it’s just me?”

A flicker of something—panic?—crosses her face before it smooths into something practiced. My God. When did she learn to hide like that?

“It’s grand,” she says. “Yeah, we can go. I really just want food in me.” She finds her coat in the pile and stands up to shrug into it. “Claire, we’ll meet you back here in, like, half an hour.”

Claire looks startled. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

I find my coat, too. Struggle into it and zip it all the way up, feeling the whole time Shane’s eyes on the side of my face. I look at him. “You better mind her,” he says. Joking voice, sure, but his eyes harbour a distinct threat. 

“Christ, Shane, relax,” Evie says. “He’ll hardly let me get killed at the kebab shop.”

We move towards the exit then, together, the sleeve of my puffer coat pressing into hers for a moment on the stairs, past party-goers slumped across the steps, boots kicked off, tights laddered at the toes. 

“You don’t mind abandoning your own birthday thing?” I say, and Evie laughs.

“No, not at all,” she says. “Get me out of here, quick.”

“Let’s go, then.” I hold the door for her, and we step out, shoulder to shoulder, onto the snowy street.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[dmagedgoods]

Imagine the father you hate sends you a talking sex toy

It may be born from expecting some cunning and twisted games from devils (where is the fun, otherwise?), but to merely take Raphael's and Haarlep's relationship the very way it's presented without further thought appears like signing the line without reading the words to me. What they do there clearly has layers. Raphael is smart, he has to be for those contracts, the manipulations, and his little ambitious plan. Furthermore, it's essential for him to stay careful. He, more than anyone, should know not to trust Haarlep. And he most certainly is highly aware. Imagine you want to surpass your fiendish father and he gifts you a toy incubus. What would you do with them? I, at least, know what I would not do with this gift: Order it to take the form(s) of those I most desire (or, worse, cherish to a point) or even fuck it. Now, Raphael is a devil (with a strong human side, fight me, but still a devil): of course, he fucks Haarlep anyway and maybe not to appear ungrateful too (after all, you want Daddy to think you appreciate his gift or at least paint the surface-level impression of it). But he only fucks Haarlep in quite a special way, does he not? - In the one and only way that gives nothing away about him. Or at least it gives nothing away about him that his father (and anyone, really) doesn't already know (or is supposed to know): That Raphael has a very high opinion of himself. Maybe it's even an abstract little joke. I, for my part, see some dry humor in it: His daddy sends this shapeshifting, form stealing incubus spy to get some information on how to pressure his son, should it become a necessity. But all he gets from said incubus spy is the statement that his son only ever fucks himself. "Raphael only loves Raphael." That definitely is what I would want my incubus sex toy to report back to my detested father. (If I was a devil, mind you.) Now Raphael doesn't put that much effort into the act, it seems, but that's not truly necessary after all and only serves him further: I don't think he fancies Haarlep gossiping about his actual sexual preferences with Mephistopheles either. Ah, now maybe Haarlep and Raphael despise each other or maybe they developed a fondness for each other, I can picture both, but it stays true that Raphael doesn't seem like the kind of man who would willingly allow someone to gain an advantage over him by allowing personal information to spread to those he's determined to outsmart. Of course, I guess, it's also a possibility that this 1000+-years-old cambion truly only ever lazily bottoms for his father's incubus toy and only ever while it looks (more or less) like himself because that's all he wants in this regard. Maybe devils are immune to boredom. I, for my part, strongly assume it's a game with daddy dearest.

[aeolianblues]

was kinda thinking about this when I saw Renee Rapp live recently-- I didn't know her visual vibe, I'd heard a few songs here and there but I hadn't really *seen* her, and her attire at Osheaga was really casual, a jersey (baseball/basketball?) and slacks. And that was so amazing! I couldn't help thinking, the work Billie Eilish has done for how women in pop music are allowed to dress is incredible. Seeing her up there all comfortable you just know that Billie walked in her oversized tops so that Renee in her slacks could run; Billie walked through all the critcisms about how she dressed slobbily and having to assert that she didn't owe anyone a display of skin, so that Renee could be comfortable and unquestioned running up and down the catwalk in front of 10,000 people. How iconic.

And I don't think we even realised at the time how much something as simple as letting Billie dress the way she as a (then-) 17-year-old teenager dressed, could end up meaning for a future generation of women in music.

Obviously there is still way to go, there were weirdos complaining about how 'plain' Dua Lipa's Glastonbury outfit was this year (in 2024!!), l have to ask, are you at Paris Fashion Week?? She is the musical HEADLINER of an entire day of music at one of the biggest music festivals in the world, and you can't grant her the space to exist as an artist, you have to moan about her dress not being excitingly revealing enough. There's work to do, it's still dismal out there. But the space Billie Eilish has created for a most ordinarily-dressed woman popstar is still heartening.

[satorusluver]

Having this mf's babies is a NEED not a want.

[luxiaraaa]

(push kafka and shalom aside)

let me introduce u guys my other zooweemamas i know these two redhead will treat me right i just KNOW it

[lesbianmarrow]

so what IS a director of photography and what do they do

i’m so glad you asked! here’s what everett chambers has to say on the topic in his 1986 book how to succeed by: producing tv movies which i got from the used bookstore for $3

[aretheypolyam]

Taps our little sign

[communistkenobi]

(continuing discussion of the gap between show's perception of Starfleet + what is presented)

I know there's a lotta Trek to work through and I completely understand if you choose not to, but I'd be really curious to see your opinions of first two reboot films—there's this fascinating continuation of it in line with 21st-century American history/politics, but the director and writers are clearly unaware of it. The cinematography of Starfleet in reboot Trek is distinctly more fascist when compared to The Motion Picture and the plot is. Distressingly on the nose.

(TLDR w/o big spoilers: in the first movie, Starfleet is described as a "peacekeeping armada", the Federation essentially experiences 9/11, with increased militarization and eugenics the main plot point of an ostensible Wrath of Khan reboot, and what is an attempt by a 'fleet admiral to provoke a war with the Klingons in the process of his further militarization of Starfleet. Also he attempts to blackmail Khan into helping him Build Weapons and Khan gets radicalized into becoming an anti-Federation terrorist. And then there's the racism)

I definitely wanna watch the reboots! I remember watching the very first one when it first came out but I had no investment or knowledge of Star Trek at the time so I don’t remember having any strong feelings about it

[alister312]

yall know that one post that’s like “you can tell exactly what kind of person someone is based on the 3 favorite homestuck chararters”? do u think the same thing applies to top 3 south park characters?

[haveihitanerve]

Sunlight

“You can stay.” The words were so soft, hardly louder than an exhaled breath, that Lucien wasn't sure she had even spoken. But she had. “What?” He asked, hardly daring to breathe. “You can stay.” Elain repeated, watching him from the doorway, hands wrapped around its frame, as though to steady herself. “Of course, its up to Feyre and Rhys.” she added with a faint blush. “But… you needn't leave on my behalf.” Lucien swallowed, hand still on the doorknob, the small backpack he had first arrived with slung over one shoulder. “Are you… are you sure?” he asked finally, hardly daring to believe it. “I- i wouldn't want to impose. To- to make you uncomfortable. I never mean to make you uncomfortable.” Elain offered him a small, tentative smile. “I know.” she said quietly. “I was planning to go out shopping. For some new clothes. Next Friday. I could use an escort.” A shy smile. “If you chose to stay, that is.” She dipped her head to him once, then turned, and disappeared up the stairs. Lucien stayed standing, one hand on the door, staring after her. He wasn't even sure if he was still breathing.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

where's that post about how people come up with the worst characterizations of Trant due to the strong autism he gives off I need to reblog it

[stardustedknuckles]

Well I meant to split this book up into two days and go to sleep before midnight but sure, 413 pages in... Wow. Three hours. I'm trying to be more intentional with my focus and get back into doing things in my free time that don't involve screens (hence intending to split it up) but it just kept feeling like running for the first time after being stuck in bed for a week. I needed to blaze through it the way I used to. Felt nice.

The book was "The Forest Demands Its Due" by Kosoko Jackson, and I'm a little annoyed it was YA after I was fairly clear to the bookseller that I was looking for adult fiction, but she got most of everything else I asked for pretty right, so I'm not too mad. It's just. It was for teens so there's not a lot to chew on in some of the dimensions I had hoped for. But it was a good glimpse of the ideas of reparations and atonement, where blame falls and who benefits from perpetuating systems built on pain from generations ago, and the conversation around that was really neat coming from a Black, gay author and main character. I'm glad I read it.

[papertowness]

WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE ONES THAT LOOK LIKE THEY’VE NEVER KNOWN THE GENTLE TOUCH OF A WOMAN ???

[arolesbianism]

Played some oni on the home computer and holy shit it's a magical feeling playing oni on a computer that isn't constantly shitting itself