#sometimes i make an argument like this and it feels like complete bullshit but i somehow find enough evidence to prove it so who cares

[propheticjester]

hard to say what i gained from being raised in a christian household, but goddamn can i spot a biblical allusion when i see one

[kazumist]

THROUGH THICK AND THIN .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro had forgotten the lengths of your love for him.

✩ — request: hi, can i pls request an argument with hoshina and how u resolve everything 🥹🥹🥹

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. hurt/comfort, angst if u squint. cw: arguments, implications of soshiro being injured but thats just it, soshiro is kinda mean Uhm, ooc!hoshina this is another experimental fic help me. wc: 1440. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

if there was one thing sharper than the blades hoshina soshiro wielded, it would be the words that escaped his lips.

hoshina knows how to sugarcoat his words. he considers himself a good talker—negiotiator, if you would. however, when it comes to more sensitive topics, that’s when it all starts to crumble down. 

he never expected for him to catch feelings, especially with the line of work he takes. it’s too risky. dangerous. worrying. but he fell as deep as the ocean could get for you. you accepted it. him and his line of work. him as a whole.

yet soshiro seems to forget that sometimes.

getting out of a mission unscathed was impossible. he would always have at least one injury planted on him. it was a repetitive game of russian roulette where either his injuries would be severe or light. and unfortunately for him, today was sadly the former. 

a knock was heard at the door of the hospital room he’s staying in. a mission had recently just finished—about three days had passed, and soshiro was unconscious for the first two due to how he overexerted himself. “come in,” he says. and to his surprise, he saw you opening the door.

soshiro hasn’t told you about him being hospitalized yet—so how?

“captain ashiro told me.” oh. so that’s how. well, he was aware that you had also built a friendship with his commander. and that was completely fine with him. it was awkward when you walked over to the bed, pulling out the chair for you to sit on. you refused to make eye contact with him while soshiro just stared at you.

neither of you has an idea of what to say.

“i wish you told me as soon as you woke up. i was worried sick when i heard the news about the kaiju attack and all.” you said, keeping your gaze focused on your fingers as they played with each other. he flinches slightly as guilt starts to bubble up inside of him. it was already five in the afternoon and he’s been awake since ten in the morning. he wishes that he told you as soon as he woke up as well.

however, there’s one thing that has started to creep onto soshiro lately—fear. insecurity, perhaps. he gets haunted by the thought that you would definitely be happier in someone else’s arms and that you would be more happy being bathed in someone else’s affection. being with a man like hoshina soshiro was dangerous, as if it were a gamble to play.

because you never know if you’ll still wake up to him being alive the next day. and believe it or not: hoshina was scared—terrified of that possibility. he doesn’t want you to be sad, he crumbles at the thought of you crying in the first place. so he made it a task for him to push you away. to be distant.

to be someone you would hate.

that’s the only way he could keep you safe.

“sorry. i didn’t want to disturb you.” bullshit.

“why…” you trailed off. soshiro noticed that you werent playing with your fingers anymore and that you were now clenching your fists. “why would you think that? soshiro, your health matters to me.” his heart also clenched when he heard the slight crack in your voice. “why would it matter to you? i could die any day.”

“are you being serious right now?” he hates it. he hates the way that the first time he saw your eyes today, they were filled with such negative emotions. anger. hurt. confusion. “do i look like i’m kidding?”

“soshiro, why are you acting like this? did i do something wrong? i know we haven’t seen each other a lot because we’ve been both busy.” no, you didn’t. this is my fault, but this is also for the best. is what he wanted to say—but he just swallows up his words. “it’s nothing.”

“no, it’s not just ‘nothing.’ tell me what’s wrong, please? so we can fix it. it pains me when we’re like this.” it pains him too—it pains him so fucking bad. but hoshina soshiro is stubborn. so he will find himself accomplishing his task, whether it pains him or not.

because all he wants is the best for you, even if he wouldn’t be able to provide that.

— — — — — — — — 

he doesn’t know how things got so heated between the two of you. and he’s sure that you both might disturb the other patients who are confined in the room next to his.

“why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong? i feel like an idiot, soshiro! what am i?! some fucking mind reader on what goes on inside your head?!”

“like i told you, it’s nothing for you to worry about! what can’t you understand with that?!”

“what can’t you understand with me saying it’s not just nothing?!”

“and what can’t you understand with me implying that you shouldn’t care anymore?! dp i have to spell it out for you?”

you weren’t sitting down anymore, and hoshina doesn’t dare to speak anymore. fighting with you was the worst. and this time, he fucked up real bad. “i… it’s getting late. i should get going.” you say, and soshiro could feel a part of him shattering when he heard you hold back a sob.

the next time soshiro saw you, he was on his day off (a day off he didn’t really want to take but captain ashiro forced him otherwise since the doctors told him he shouldn’t be making his body engage in strenuous activities just yet). and the first thing he did? he visited you. he knew you get off work early on fridays, making you free for the rest of the weekend earlier.

he knocks on your door, although hesitantly. he’s nervous as he waits for you to open the door.

and he’s grateful that you still opened the door for him in spite of your last conversation with each other. you didn’t say anything as you opened the door further, inviting him in. the awkwardness gave hoshina a rush of deja vu about the awkwardness in the hospital room.

“i’m sorry.” although these two words don’t just cut it so easily, he thinks.

“do you really mean it? what you said in the hospital?”

his breath hitched as he found the right words to say. if hoshina was going to be honest, he hasn’t thought much about what to do at this point. surely, he had achieved his goal that night, right? “yeah.”

“liar.”

he turns to you immediately, and you were already looking at him to begin with. “you’re lying, and i could tell that because you’re nibbling on your lip. you always do that when you lie. just tell me the truth, soshiro, please.”

why should he? would you accept his reason? would you accept the insecurities that haunt his every waking thought? would you accept him even though he said such mean things to you the last time you saw each other?

would you still love him despite it all?

you would. you always would. 

and so he explains from the very start—when and where these thoughts started in the first place. and you listen to him intently, absorbing every single detail he says. once he was done, you took a deep breath. 

“god, you’re so stupid. did you know that?” soshiro lets out a weak chuckle at that, avoiding your gaze. you cup his face with your hands, making him face you. “look at me,” he refuses. “soshiro, look at me.” he then complies, slowly trailing his eyes across your features before resting them on your gaze.

“you don’t get to decide what’s best for me when it comes to this type of thing, okay? i love who i want to love. you don’t get to decide that i’d be happier with someone else. because i love you. i love you more than you could ever imagine, more than you could ever feel. remember that. engrave that inside your mind so you can never forget. you are the one i am helplessly in love with, soshiro.”

i love you. i love you. i love you. it repeats inside his mind. you are the one i am helplessly in love with. it echoes. soshiro feels stupid for attempting to become someone you hated in the first place. there was no way he could ever bear the possibility of you actually hating him.

how could he forget? you had already accepted him as a whole. through thick and thin, you will stand by his side.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: きのう何食べた? / Kinou Nani Tabeta? / What Did You Eat Yesterday?

Kinou Nani Tabeta? (which I'm going to abbreviate here to NaniTabe) is a live-action adaptation of a manga with the same name, which tells the story of two middle-aged Japanese gay men as they navigate their relationship, their families, and their professional lives, all while having some good meals.

Do you want something nice? Do you want a show that's just ... nice? Not saccharine, not cloying, not reductive, but just cozy and kind? This! This is what you want. Every episode deals with some events in their lives, and then the action will pause once or twice while someone demonstrates how to make a meal. There's no real overarching plot. You just get to peek in on them every so often and see how they're doing.

...Shit, I'm just going to steal the GagaOOLala second-season synopsis, it's perfect:

Shiro Kakei and his partner, Kenji Yabuki, live a life full of some hardship but mostly happiness together, with Shiro's speciality cooking affordable and delicious dishes. As they turn 50, they begin to experience different changes, but Shiro and Kenji are still gentle with each other as they move on to a new stage in their lives.

So here I am, a middle-aged gay who cooks affordable and (mostly) delicious dishes and treats my partner gently, serving you a five-course meal of reasons that you should watch this show -- especially if you too are a middle-aged gay, in which case I'd say this goes straight from "should watch" to "unmissable."

1. Help, my face hurts from smiling too much

Prepare to get your heart warmed whether you like it or not.

Kakei Shiro, the main character, is a closeted gay attorney in his forties whose main likes are cooking and saving money. He lives with his slightly younger boyfriend, Yabuki Kenji, who is a very openly gay hairstylist. They're an incredibly unlikely couple who somehow manage to make a relationship work, kind of to their mutual surprise.

I called bullshit on the show early on: This relationship is cute, I said, but this is not the behavior of guys who have been together a decade. But as the show unfolded, it became clear that I was so wrong -- their behavior is perfect, because these middle-aged boys actually haven't been together nearly that long. In fact, once you finally get the story of how their relationship started, yeah, it explains a lot of their insecurities and awkwardnesses about one another. Combine that with how Shiro's a neurotic mess who absolutely does not want anyone to know that he's gay, while Kenji lives on eggshells for fear of rejection, and it all starts to make sense.

It helps that the two leads have incredible chemistry. Not in a horny way, mind you (the show is incredibly, and intentionally, nonsexual, but more on that later), but where they genuinely make one another smile and laugh. Nishijima Hidetoshi plays Shiro as an anxious mess who slowly learns to become at least a little more comfortable in his own queer skin. I have a t-shirt that says Oh, Honey and I want to put it on every time he does something.

Meanwhile, it would have been so easy to make Kenji a caricature, but Uchino Seiyou skips right past the stereotype and plays the behavior that the stereotype comes from. He minces his way along as Kenji so perfectly, I was surprised to find out he's married to a lady in real life. He's got to be doing an impression of someone he actually knows, because his faggotry is just too accurate.

Their relationship is far from perfect. They're capable of annoying the tar out of one another, sometimes on purpose. They keep secrets and avoid talking about feelings. They get jealous over completely irrational things. They want things the other person isn't comfortable giving. They get into petty little arguments over petty little shit.

And because of all that, it feels real.

Also, if you're one of those Jane Austen bitches who swoons every time lovers scandalously brush knuckles, well, here you go.

2. Surprisingly educational about the state of gay life in modern Japan!

This is not incidental: Like the manga, the show uses this cute food-based story to present a fairly realistic snapshot of what it's like to be a middle-aged gay couple in Japan right now.

Like the manga it's based on, the show goes out of its way to be incredibly nonsexual, to the point where Kenji and Shiro barely touch, much less kiss or even hint at getting naked together. It is very consciously and deliberately attempting to counteract the stereotype of the hypersexualized, salacious homosexual by presenting two gay men who are delightfully mundane.

It is not, however, homonormalization. There's no attempt here to make an argument that gay people are just like straight people, only with incidentally matching genitals. Every time someone falls prey to the pressure to conform to cishet gender norms, it ends badly for them. While the first-episode conflict establishes that Kenji tops, he's also the fruity hairstylist who does the housekeeping. Shiro's the straight-passing suit-and-tie guy, yet he's the one who cooks and goes grocery-shopping. They have a division of labor based on personality traits, not gender roles. In fact, their relationship as presented challenges a lot of those norms by decoupling gendered expectations from the necessities of everyday living.

(This isn't even just me getting my queer studies goo all over everything! Allow me to be a good academic and send you to two people who've done even more thinking about this than I have: the unfortunately paywalled "Queer Cooking And Dining: Expanding Queerness In Fumi Yoshinaga's What Did You Eat Yesterday?" by Katsuhiko Suganuma, and the more freely available "Queering the Palate: The Erotics and Politics of Food in Japanese Gourmet Manga" by Keiko Miyajima.)

Every so often, one of the episodes' conflicts will have to do with how gay people in Japan do not have equal rights and protections under the law. This doesn't just mean they can't get married -- not having a spouse and children actually messes with a lot of legal stuff, including inheritance and government assistance. Sometimes the show will even take a beat to have one of the characters explain to another what a certain statute says. Changing laws about same-sex partnerships even get factored into the story!

And sure, I don't know these things, but I bet a lot of straight people in Japan don't know these things either. Well, if you watch the show, now you do!

It's important that no one is ever outright shitty to Shiro or Kenji. No one calls them slurs or hate-crimes them or refuses to serve them at a business or anything like that. In fact, the majority of people they encounter are perfectly chill and even outright supportive. The most serious challenges they face are bigger than individual people being dicks. They're about systemic barriers to equality.

That said, there are still plenty of instances of individual people being dicks -- just not maliciously. In fact, most of the homophobic sentiments in the show come from the mouths of people who are otherwise supportive of Shiro and/or Kenji! These nice people seem like they're way okay with the gay ... and then they let slip that, no, they're actually not as okay with it as they think they are.

And I love that the show includes that, because I know that feeling way too well. When these things happen, our boys don't throw a righteous fit or cut the offender off completely. They just ... absorb the blow, sigh quietly, and keep going with the belief that the person in question means well. It just sucks, you know? It sucks to have to know now that your straight lady friend who thinks it's great that you're gay would be uncomfortable if her daughter were a lesbian. You're not going to stop being friends with her, and you're not even going to hold it against her, but it lives in your mind now, and you're going to add it to the I Am A Disappointment To My Parents rotation of intrusive thoughts.

Speaking of parents, Shiro's incredibly fraught relationship with his aging parents is hands-down one of the best parts of the show. They love him, he loves them, but they don't always know how to love one another. As their childless only child, Shiro finds himself having to support them in spite of a lot of hurt they've caused him because of his sexuality. He would in many ways be justified in cutting them off -- after all, many other gay people in the show no longer speak to one or both of their parents! Shiro wants to keep them in his life, though. He'll just have to learn how, for his sake and for Kenji's, to lovingly set boundaries.

This, to me, is the most important lesson a show about boring gays can teach a straight audience: There's always a background level of suck. You can be as chaste and normie and regular as you want, but you'll never be normal, because there's literally nothing you can do to erase the background level of suck.

It's easy to reduce someone else's oppression to Big Bad Events, and then to assume that the absence of these Big Bad Events means that oppression has ceased. That's like thinking there's nothing left that needs to be done about racism because the US had a Black president and you've never personally seen a cross burned on somebody's lawn. Once other people's oppression stops being Big Bad Events, it becomes Everyday Stuff You Can Ignore. And that's worse.

NaniTabe pushes back against this in two directions. The first is to show gays who are not miserable, but are instead living happy, fulfilling, and exceedingly regular lives on their own terms. The second is to give reminders that what gay-related misery they do experience largely comes not from their being gay, but from society's giving them shit for being gay. This misery doesn't destroy the happiness, but neither does the happiness make the misery go away.

By the way, this is true of any non-normative identity! The gays do not have a monopoly here. There's always going to be a level of suck when you don't inhabit an area of privilege, and it's very easy to be unaware of someone else's background level of suck when you yourself do have that privileged status! One of the best ways to become aware is to listen to stories about people unlike yourself! Hooray for empathy and learning!

3. tfw your bffs are straight-up freaks

If you're queer, and especially if you're queer and the vast majority of the people around you aren't, you know all too well that sometimes you wind up being friends with people you'd never associate with otherwise, except that you're queer and they're queer, and buddy, if you thought the queer dating pool was shallow, the queer friendship pool can sometimes be even worse.

That's how you get Kohinata and Wataru.

When I said earlier everything about how nonsexual and normie the show is, I was intentionally glossing over whatever the hell is going on with Kohinata and Wataru, the bizarre boyfriends who become Shiro and Kenji's gay besties. You know that couple where you think, I cannot imagine how this relationship works because if you were my partner I would want you stab you every minute of our lives, but it clearly does, so I'm happy for you both? Yeah, that's these two.

The elder of the pair, Kohinata, is a butch, severe man -- except when it comes to his boyfriend, the much younger and worse-behaved Wataru. Then he's reduced to a complete simp, catering to Wataru's every whim. Wataru knows that throwing a tantrum and being bratty is the way to get anything he wants from Kohinata, so he's just a little shit recreationally. He loves saying bitchy things and pointing out people's flaws, while Kohinata chides him ineffectually.

And I love how much this is totally a sex thing for them, except that when you put it in the context of an otherwise extremely PG-rated show, the kink of it flies completely under the hetero radar. Ha ha, look how generally funny these two weirdos are! While Shiro and Kenji are over here doing the thing where somebody calls their partner "master" in front of you, and you're like, I wish you wouldn't.

Their presence is great for the acknowledgment that gay people can be maladjusted freaks in a whole spectrum of ways! They also make the point that a great deal of your ability to openly be a maladjusted freak is related to your job and your level of wealth. Wataru works from home and Kohinata works with celebrities, both of which bring in high incomes and allow for way more deviance from social norms. They're in positions of privilege that allow them to be themselves, but the price of being themselves is that they're always going to stick out in a society that values harmony in sameness.

By contrast, Shiro's good-but-not-great-paying suit-and-tie job means he has to behave. Because of this, he has plenty of angst about being Not Gay Enough, through which the show reinforces time and again that not all gay existence is about barfing rainbows. You're still a valid homosexual even when you're a dull one.

So just remember: When you feel like you're not queer enough, remember that there are always worse queers out there in the world. Oh, they're not worse at being queer. They're just worse in general.

4. Itadakimasu!

This show, like the Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty and Otoko Meshi, is a food-centered show that is very dangerous to watch if you're hungry, so be prepared! Snack first!

It's also got actually followable recipes! Unlike those other food-centric shows I've done recs for, this show actually gives pretty precise measurements, lists all the ingredients, and walks you through basically the whole process. Aside from a few "add the incredibly Japanese thing I bought premade at the store" steps, Shiro's cooking methods are replicable at home.

...It is here that I should probably put up a warning for the occasional bout of very Japanese-typical and gay-man-typical fatphobia, which can be a heck of a combination. I don't think it's a dealbreaker, but you should be aware of it going in. However, I will say that the show almost always comes down on the side of positive moderation: Sometimes you need to eat like you're an aging homosexual watching your cholesterol, and sometimes it's a special occasion so you should enjoy yourself without guilt. It also never once conflates "eating healthy" with eating disappointing meals. If anything, it's mostly just being honest about what happens to your body's relationship to fried food when you hit your forties.

The other nice thing is that Shiro's not some trained chef. He makes good food, but he's a dedicated amateur at best. There's not a single super-fancy technique in anything he does. Much of the time, he's just winging it, combining techniques he knows with what he's already got in the fridge. Sometimes he uses recipes he found on the internet. Occasionally he cooks alongside other, more experienced people and learns techniques from them. Once in a blue moon he just tries a thing to see how it works. (Of course, he does have the unfair advantage of being fictional to cover for how none of his meals ever turn out bad, which, you know, must be nice.)

Sometimes you even get to see other people cook when Shiro's nowhere around! Some of them follow instructions to the letter, while others just sort of wing it with whatever's on hand. And that's okay! For a show so much about cooking, it is very unpretentious about food. The manga drives home even more strongly the point that you don't need fancy meals and a million perfect side dishes to be content. It's great if you're perfectly happy microwaving a pork bun! What matters is that it works for you and your family.

...Now can we please convince subbers everywhere to translate "Itadakimasu!" as "Itadakimasu!"? Please? I think my favorite bad choice is "Bon appetit!", which, okay, good job, you took an opportunity to teach English-speakers a non-English phrase that has no good English translation, and instead you chose to bank on their extant familiarity with a different non-English phrase that has no good English translation. Just keep it what it is. It's just something you say before you eat. It's obvious from context clues. I promise.

5. Makes you, an aging queer, feel real weird about some stuff!

Over the course of the show, Kenji and Shiro go from their early/mid 40s to pushing/over 50. Their parents age, have health scares, and even sometimes die. They deal with losing eyesight and hair alike. They get promoted. They make household budgets and purchases. They worry about saving enough for the future. They work late. They go on vacation sometimes. They wear the same clothes they wore a couple episodes ago.

However, they do all this while also wrestling with their unequal status as gay men in Japan. All their discussions about retirement are colored both by Kenji's tendency to impulse-buy ice cream and by the fact that they can't get married. The choices Shiro makes about his job rest both on his desire for a good work-life balace and a fear that his profession would react badly to his coming out. They have to make all the normal decisions expected of men their age, and then they have to make all the extra decisions to compensate for how "normal" doesn't account for gay.

To pick one issue running throughout the story: Shiro is an only child who is himself childless. This comes up fairly often, in fact, as various circumstances make him aware time and again that he's not making his parents into grandparents, and he won't someday have someone to take care of him like he does for them.

The first time the show brought this up, I thought it would be a one-and-done thing, where the conclusion of the episode got to be that Shiro learns to be happy without being a parent, the end. Nope! It isn't a constant stressor, but it never goes entirely away. Shiro is happy with his life, but he's also reminded that he's failing to live up to social standards. He doesn't want to be a dad. Or does he? No, he actually doesn't. But he also doesn't want not to be a dad, if that makes sense. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone by not having a wife and children, but at the same time, that disappointment isn't enough to force him back into the closet. But it's always going to be seen as a failure on his part.

As a middle-aged queer with no kids, yeah, I feel that hard. I don't want kids! But I also don't want to not have kids. I know I'm always going to be a little bit of a misfit in my family compared to my siblings, who are all parents now. Besides, I think about all the things I do for my parents, and all the things they did for theirs, and yeah, it kind of scares me to know I won't have that when I get older. And we're just basic-ass white people! Japan takes filial responsibility to a whole 'nother level!

So I really, really like that this show doesn't resolve that tension. Shiro has chosen what's right for him. It just also sucks sometimes. The honesty of that narrative is refreshing. Sometimes your best choice still kinda sucks. Sometimes the only way to get closure is to say, you failed me and I failed you, so we're even.

It's a frequent thing for the show to present the realities of people's lives and choices, and to say, maybe this isn't everyone's perfect solution, but it's the right decision given what the circumstances will allow, and you are still allowed to be happy despite the imperfections. It's not that you need to settle for less than perfection because you're gay -- everybody settles! Everybody makes choices and then has to live with the consequences of those choices. You'll never know if things could have been better if you'd done something different, but that doesn't stop what you have right now from being able to be pretty damn good.

I'm not going to say you must be a middle-aged queer to watch this show, because did you read the whole part earlier where I talked about how you should consume stories from experiences that are not your own? Right? Right.

I will, however, say that if you are a middle-aged queer, a lot of it's likely going to hit real close to home, and often in uncomfortable ways. I've seen a couple people say they had to take breathers after some episodes. I know I've been left chewing over a few things in the days and weeks since watching. There are definitely parts where you're laughing because you know exactly what that feels like, and if you don't laugh, you'll do something else.

But you know what? I like that. It can be nice to see people go through situations similar to yours and emerge realistically happy. It's nice to be able to laugh about things, or to know that you will laugh about them someday. The world is fundamentally hostile, but there are people who love us and watermelons are on sale this week, so instead of despair, let's have lunch together.

bonus: porn!!

I want to make it clear that the mangaka isn't some erotophobic dishrag who fetishizes gay men so long as they don't have any of that icky nasty smex. Oh no. The proof that NaniTabe's sexlessness is intentional is how Yoshinaga Fumi made six fairly explicit pornographic side stories that fill in some of the sexy gaps in the larger narrative. You can read all six volumes scanlated right here! ...though if you want to avoid spoilers, I'm going to recommend you wait to dig in until after you watch the show and/or read the actual manga to the appropriate points.

Enjoy the confirmation that Shiro is a freaky size queen (at least in theory, as is the case with maybe most freaky size queens).

Are you hungry for this show yet?

Tragically, this one's a little hard to watch. If you're in Japan (or you have a VPN that can fake it), you can see the first season on Netflix. Otherwise, the preposterously named GagaOOLala is probably your best bet. The watch order goes like this:

Season 1

the New Year's Special

the Movie

Season 2

While the two movies and the second season require a subscription, the first season is available for free. So if you want to give it a try, you've got a whole twelve episodes to see if you like it!

Maybe it'll get a third season someday? We can hope! After all, there's still much more manga left to adapt! All I know is that I'm very sad that I've run out of new installments of it to watch, and I look forward to going back and starting again from the beginning soon.

...Boy, it's funny to see behind-the-scenes shots and think, wow, they're so much snugglier in real life! That's how not-snuggly the show itself is! You think I'm joking but I'm not!

[eijirousbestie]

since ur one of the realistic bakugou writers (just like what that anonie said) what do u think about: 1.him being jealous over his s/o. we always see those possessive or jelly bakugou writings, but i think it's kinda over exaggeration sometimes. 2.with affectionate s/o? like, i know things may be very awkward at the start of their relationship but what if his s/o suddenly has the urge to pepper kisses all over his face & hug him so tight? srry if it's stupid😭

Jealousy + Affection

Jealousy

——————————————-

He’d unsuspectingly pull them into his room when they aren’t looking, closing the door behind the two and standing tall with a displeased frown on his face. Jealousy is one of the feelings Katsuki rarely ever feels. And when he does, he absolutely hates it. It doesn’t make sense to him. He has everything he could ever need. An incredible power, insane strength, intellect like no other and a tongue as sharp as a knife. What the hell would he ever be jealous about? Or at least that’s what he would’ve thought before he got close enough to someone to call his own.

“We needa talk,” he’d grumble, brows knit together. “That ‘new friend’ of yours is pissing me off. I swear they only ever need you when I finally have you to myself.”

He’s realistic. He knows they’re not just gonna drop someone for him just because he doesn’t like them for unproved reasons, but that still doesn’t mean he won’t stop wishing they will. Until then, he’ll keep taking extra measures to make sure they can make up for lost time spent together. He’d spend extra time giving TLC he usually wouldn’t, feeling like he’d need to remind his partner where home really is.

In no way is he being overtly possessive or trying to tie his partner down. That’s just crazy as hell. He’s just worried about the third party’s intentions with his person, untrusting of what their motives may be or what their influence is on his partner. He knows they can handle their own but still it’s just a normal concern.

Then again, this is Katsuki we’re talking about so when he has his mind set on something it’s hard to change his mind about it, but he tried to be flexible for them. He tries. Jealousy is a bitch.

————————————————————

Affection

Having an affectionate partner isn’t always the easiest for Katsuki to deal with but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. Most likely this person would be one of the very few relationships he’s had throughout his life. Being career and goal focused for years on end left him with no time to think about all that lovey dovey bullshit other people his age would drown in. But everybody wants somebody, even if it’s just a friend.

And that’s how the two had started. Being friends with Katsuki is no easy feat. Having to put up with constant yelling, bickering and outrageously childish arguments, it wasn’t a cake walk. But it sure as hell was still fun just like any other friendship. The two had gotten along unsuspectingly well even though their personalities were near opposite. Him being reserved and self righteous; them being outwardly friendly and super connected to people.

In most cases Katsuki wouldn’t give someone like them the time of day, but of course they’re a rare case. His rare case. Katsuki could find solace in them knowing that whatever stupid shit he might spew could easily be returned with matched energy. The sense of mutual respect would then blossom them into a budding relationship, one where he could feel safe enough to fall with them completely.

At the beginning, yes it was a bit awkward. He wasn’t the skinship type at all and didn’t really understand why someone had to be glued to another person’s skin damn near 24/7. But after being slowly acclimated to hand holding, he starts to warm up to mutual touch. Having gotten used to being hugged up by them since the earlier stages in their friendship, of course he knows all their tells months into their new relationship.

Occasionally coming in for a hug, he’d accept, letting them do so as long as it wasn’t overly performative. There’s a happy balance in everything so he’d gotten to learn how to take it with stride after a while. Well, only if they hadn’t pestered him with too much physical contact in one day. One too many hugs? He’d put a palm to their face and lightly shove them away, not using any real strength to hurt them. Only enough to send the message that he’s all hugged out.

Of course, if he noticed he’d been neglecting their love language of touch, he’d concede, but in his own way. Loungin on the couch with them, he may glance down and notice their hands resting in their lap as they focus on the television. His gaze would drift up to the side of their face, watching their expression closely before taking their hand in his and putting it in his lap instead, lightly stroking the back of their hand with his thumb.

Katsuki can be a hardass sometimes. Most of the time. But he’s incredibly perceptive of people, especially those he holds close to his heart. So of course he’d do what he can to make them feel comfortable around him all while keeping himself comfortable and preserving his own boundaries.

————————————————————

[postersofleon]

gonna bully re6 leon because he needs to be humbled. the way he disrespected chris is still living in my mind. angry/mean sex. fem!reader

the trip back to america was silent. you and leon sat silently in a hotel. you tapped on your foot, feeling annoyed that leon thought he was right. you were the only idiot making progress in the simmons case while leon pointed a gun at chris. "i," you attempted to swallow your anger towards your boyfriend, "why, why didn't you just fucking read my reports?" you even worked on it with ada to see the consequences of simmons, but the moron thought carla was ada. you repeatedly tried over and over through cons or messages and the idiot read it way too late.

"i always feel like I'm talking with a stupid brick wall."

leon opened his legs to man spread, "i thought i was doing right."

"yeah, and what did that get you?" you asked him. leon faked his death to chase simmons and... he gained what? new wounds she has to clean up. you rubbed your face, "and ada still having to clear your name because you focused on the wrong things."

he grimaced for a bit. "simmons was threatening the situation."

"did you even try to ask the people around you?" you asked him. "i know you and Chris don't speak a lot, but, fuck," you couldn't help but laugh, "you are so lucky chris is a good guy. you threatening him for ada despite you knowing shit."

leon's face turned red, "ada saved me. ada had saved the two of us so many times-" his voice was raising every second he got more angry. you laughed softly, he was unbelievable sometimes. "yeah, and defending her for neo-umbrella." you snapped back, "jesus, kennedy, i didn't know you fucked with neo-umbrella. was i the only one actually trying to form a friendship with ada?" the three of them have met for so long. ever since raccoon city, you were the only one who apparently spoke to ada.

leon's nose twitched, "i just wanted to help her."

a small silence was between you two. you two always swore to have sex if an argument was getting too bad. leon took off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. you followed his direction. you took off your jeans and kicked them down.

"you are a fucking idiot." you hissed softly before sitting on his lap. you rubbed against his bulge, "you are only worth it because of your cock." you grabbed his face.

leon glared at you, but once he felt your pussy lips rubbing on his bulge he groaned weakly. "bitch..." he muttered back. your breaths were mixing with each others. leon's eyes soften for a second until he remembered his anger.

he leaned in and kissed you, nearly throwing you to the ground. leon ripped open your shirt and slapped your tits. "those fucking tits always so fucking needy. you are so angry with me yet your cunt needs me." you grunted weakly from each slap. his hand grabbed your tits and squeezed it.

"you fucking asshole." you moaned weakly. leon dove in and sucked on your nipples. his teeth nibble on the pebble and gently tugged on it.

"you love my bullshit." he muttered softly.

trimming was enough for the two of you.

leon tugged down his underwear and rubbed his cock around your covered panties, "you fucking love my bullshit." you were getting more pissed off and leon moaned softly. "your pussy..." his fingers tugged the sides of your panties. his pre-cum was trailing down your own pubes that you didn't have time to shave completely. you worked too much to worry about it, and leon was the same.

the tip of his cock dragged around your pussy lips. "look at you... god... i need to marry you before i fuck up too badly." his tip circled around your clit making your back arch.

leon's fingers harshly rubbed your clit and they slowly slide down your hole. harshly moving his fingers deep in you. your eyes rolled back as you moaned loudly. "pu-put your stupid cock to work..." you mumbled softly. leon nodded his head.

in the end of the day, leon loved your pussy more than anything. he removed his fingers and slowly slid into your hole. he moaned softly. his anger turned into lust so quickly. your warm walls were always so good. you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

"you need to apologize to chris."

leon nodded his head, "i will. i promise." he grabbed your legs and put them on his waist. you tighten around his cock and he moaned pathetically.

leon is a moron who can't think straight, but he shuts up so fast when he is inside of your cunt. those pathetic little cries of pleasure, his cheeks all red because he wants to keep quiet. leon was moron. you roll your hips so he can feel those specific details, his pathetic cock slips out and oozes out his cum on your tummy.

"i'll be good. i'll shut the fuck up." he grabbed his cock and put it back inside. you two moaned together as he began to push himself deeper into you. your butt was raised from the ground as he pounded you faster and deeper. his balls hit you over and over. his face was in front of yours. the anger in your eyes vanished for a second. you fucking loved this idiot. you kissed you, he stopped thrusting for a bit to properly kiss you.

"i love you..." he mumbled against your lips.

"i love you too."

leon smiled brightly before continuing to fuck your pussy. he rubbed your thighs gently and held your ass tightly against the palm of his hand. he didn't want to lose you despite it sometimes being seen like that. especially with the way you looked at him. he moaned softly, you had the galaxy in your eyes everytime he was around.

he pounded you faster over and over. his hand grabbed you a bit too hard that you moaned loudly. leon was bending you more and more, your legs were completely off the ground as he kept and kept going. the tip of his cock hitting your spot over and over. "leon... leon!" You grabbed his injured shoulder, he hissed out with pain but kept going. his cum painted your wall and filled you up. leon looked at you weakly, he was just an idiot in love with his girlfriend. his hand gently caressed your face. his fingers caressed your lips, "i'm sorry." He whispered softly.

[balkanradfem]

So, if you all remember the broken-bones lady and the horrible male, I still visit them pretty often! The woman is still recovering, and there's a lot of chores she can't do, I come by to do her shopping, cleaning, moving things around, and sometimes meal prep.

However, a week ago when I went I had ended up in an argument with the horrible male. I wanted to write about it, but the subject was so controversial I got scared that half of you would get mad at me, so I gave up on sharing it. But during that argument, I crossed the line of what a woman is allowed to say to a male, and I said something that then let him know I find myself smarter than him (which I do), and this shocked and infuriated him. He started to openly despise me.

Since then he couldn't look at me or talk to me, he would avert his eyes away from me, and sometimes criticize me on completely inane stuff (you're making too much noise putting the dishes away). I didn't mind that he finally openly hates me, because at least that's honest.

However today I went over to clean, and things took a different turn. I happened to miss a spot while cleaning, and the woman told me he demanded for me to come back and clean it – and I did, happily, saying something like 'oh I didn't see that!' while being perfectly friendly and happy to fix it. I was alone in the room with him. He started on me then. He told me I was being careless, doing worse job every time. That this was only one of my many mistakes and she, his wife, was just too polite to call me out on it. But he would call me out on it every time.

I just laughed him off and said something along the lines of 'Yeah the older I am the more I suck at this! :) you can tell me if I do something wrong sure!' because I refuse to be unnerved by the bullshit criticism, I didn't particularly care if I did a bad job because missing a spot on the floor is so non-consequential – and I immediately fixed it.

But I was starting to feel uncomfortable in there, and I noticed he waited to be alone in a room with me in order to start on me, and I thought, I'm gonna snitch on him. I'm gonna subtly tell his wife what he did. And I went to her with a smile saying 'Hey your husband is mad at me because I do such a bad job! He told me I'm getting worse and making so many mistakes, and you're just too polite to say so.' and she was stunned and then told me the part I didn't know – he intentionally left some trash in the corner under the curtain where I wouldn't see it, in order for me to miss it, so he could call me out on it! And I'm realizing then, that this was a setup, he wanted to get a chance to berate me, and knew I would miss that spot – because it's a place where vacuum cleaner can't reach, so I only clean it every other time, and this time I didn't.

She then told me that it's not about me, he's lately short and difficult with everyone, even she is having problems with him. She explained to me that it's not his fault, it's just that he's sick and she doesn't know what to do. She begged me not to be mad at him.

And I reassured her not to worry, stroked her back as she told me teary eyed about how she struggles to deal with him almost every day. I was pained by the fact that this woman is in an abusive marriage right now and the only thing she's worried about is the opinion of outsiders, of me. It was more serious than I thought, I thought he just hated me, but he hated her too. And she was heartbroken. She insisted he used to be a good m*n, that this was not 'the real him'.

I decided to be more cautious, and to consult with her before saying anything to him at any point, because if I set him off, it's likely she'll be paying the price for it. This became a hostage situation so fast! A moment earlier I was just annoyed that he's hateful to me, but now I have to worry about what he's going to do to his own wife if I dare to argue with him.

I'm again, so tired of the world males have built where they can just do this, and I can't do anything to stop it, or to even say what I want to say without worrying what's going to happen next. That's an insane way to be expected to live! I want to move away from this city and live in nature so badly right now, where I don't have to be involved in this kind of horror. Death to all males who take their shit out on their wives.

[lunar-wandering]

🎤 what are your shadowpeach hcs broski?

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED allow me to go absolutely insane;

ive mentioned this one before but, Macaque is bi, and Wukong is... incomprehensible to humans. however if he's hanging out with Macaque he will say he's also bi out of solidarity

Wukong is the one who got Macaque hooked on peaches, shockingly enough peaches became one of Macaque's comfort foods, and despite all the stuff that went down in between them, this is still true to this day- even if he avoids peaches usually now, he still really craves them.

Wukong covers up any liking for Macaque via "it's not like I like you or anything" type stuff, Macaque on the other hand covers it up with villain dramatics. they both think the other is being completely genuine in this regard despite how obvious it is to otherwise

i know most people decide one of them is easier to fluster than the other, but i think they're both equally easy to fluster, just in different ways. for example, if Macaque wanted to fluster Wukong, he'd have to be more forceful about it. as in like, kabedons, pinning Wukong to the ground, Very Obvious Flirting, or gripping Wukong's face and loudly complimenting him. If he's too gentle with it, Wukong either brushes it off, or is oblivious to it. on the other hand, Wukong needs to be more gentle to really fluster Macaque, cause if he's too forceful with it, Macaque will panic-default back into his villain act. so he needs to be softer- gentle touches, holding hands, whispering Macaque's nickname into his ears, stuff like that.

there comes a point eventually where they stop arguing because they're actually upset and start arguing just for fun because even though they've worked through most of their bullshit it feels weird now to not argue after they've been doing it for so long. usually this ends with them roughhousing on the ground- and this is what leads to stuff like Wukong accidentally bruising Macaque's knee over an argument about cereal.

i like to think that when they were still on slightly bad terms but were trying to work things out, one of the things they decided to do was just. sit there and silently braid each other's hair after an argument. like an "they're mad at each other but don't want the other to leave" kind of thing.

they keep stealing each other's stuff. originally Macaque was doing it just to antagonize Wukong, and then Wukong started taking some of Macaque's stuff, so it became a challenge. there's been quite a few times where Macaque has used a shadowportal to just take Wukong's food without him noticing.

speaking of shadows, Macaque just genuinely likes to chill in Wukong's shadow- whether or not Wukong is aware of it. (he is, most of the time, if he's not heavily distracted that is. he figures he can keep a better eye on Macaque this way if he lets the other believe he doesn't know).

there are points in time where Wukong will become extra hesitant but gentle/affectionate with Macaque. usually this is cause he was reminded of Macaque's death. Macaque himself has no idea that that's why Wukong sometimes acts 'so weird'. (he gets very confused when Wukong won't banter with him during these times- earlier on in them working stuff out his attempts to get Wukong to banter with him might make Wukong snap at him- which at least is something Macaque views as normal. this was not good for either of them but it eventually ends up working out sjdlfksjflks)

because of their coping methods and Wukong's tendency to attempt to repress stuff, they tried to force their relationship to be back to how it was prior to everything once. this did not end well.

Wukong was actually the one to initiate their first kiss (or, well, maybe their first kiss after everything if you hc they were in a relationship before), but it was 100% just to get Macaque to shut up. it worked, but it also made them both have a mental breakdown afterwards

they both crave physical contact from the other but both hesitate to do so. like, they'll get in each other's personal space, but then both will wait cause they want the other to initiate contact. usually this'd end in them getting irritated over that not happening and they end up rolling on the ground fighting so they kinda get the contact they were craving but also at the same time not really.

MK is so done with their bullshit. He's been the reluctant spectator to most of this. He HAS threatened to lock them in a closet together just so they'd work their shit out.

[micahulrichdraws]

I don't think self-deprecation or concern for the person's well-being is ever going to come across well to someone saying they like what you do. Maybe I'm missing something, but there are reasons to like your art besides being miserable. Even if only the truly miserable liked your work, responding to them by pointing out how miserable they must be wouldn't feel great for them. Your art isn't giving them depression, and it's not like you're contributing to net suffering by making art with ~themes~, so it seems unnecessary to bring up. You suggested that if you struggle to enjoy life, and you make something, anyone who resonates will also struggle to enjoy life. I disagree. Some people will like it for completely shallow reasons. Some people have empathy for others' suffering. You can have a decent life and no mental illness and probably still appreciate a well-drawn skeleton. I don't know what kind of art a perfect world would produce, but any world where people are mortal is going to have sadness, and some art will reflect that. Yours isn't uniquely dark.

Sorry if you've gotten 100 asks saying this same thing. I wasn't sure based on the ones you responded to, and I just found your blog. I know it's sort of a joke, bc you do still sell art prints and stuff, so you clearly are okay with people liking your art. Tbh, I /had/ depression for a few years, so I'm not exactly proof against the theory that your art somolehow only appeals to depressed people. It seems unlikely, though. And the way you talk about your art as "garbage" kind of gave me flashbacks to the sort of self-deprecating humor I'd use when I hated myself. I don't know you or how you're doing, but that feeling made me want to say something.

You didn't just miss something, you missed like, everything I've ever said on my blog about like, everything to the point I'm not even sure this was intended for me? Like I'd break it down, point by point and be like 'no what are you smoking' but that'd be a waste of time after the 'why do you think my art gives people depression!?' part of whatever this is. Like, this is offensive levels of trying to make me be someone I'm not for the sake of a hypothetical argument against a strawman. So if, you want to take offense to who I am in case you misclick and end up here again here's an asshole enough of a response to give you a legitimate reason to find me intolerable:

Welcome to my page! I make art, jokes, and bullshit with folks to make people happy. I started doing this when I was big sad, because cheering people up cheers me up. Now, here's the crazy part: some people are very sad, and sometimes they tell me it makes them a small amount of happy, which gives me dopamine and makes me do it again. The word 'some' means 'not everyone', or even 'a fraction of a percentage'. For example, in this case, it means 'most people just like my drawings but some people get an extra lil bit out of it'. I don't take myself seriously because I know that the art world is insanely intimidating to those outside of it, and sometimes artists tend to be egotistical and condescending, a word that means 'having or showing a feeling of patronizing superiority'. Naturally, I do everything in my power to avoid that, because I'm a very 'gates open' kinda person.

So, here's the WILD part: in my perfect world I would've never had depression. Now, I know, that would have been inconvenient for you as someone who passed by my page one time, and I do apologize. I also apologize that I don't make 'dark art', because I like frogs and mice doing cool shit. Finally, I apologize for my art having -~*themes and concepts*~-, I know good art only comes from ChatGPT and that was my bad.

Sike, I didn't apologize, my fingers were crossed behind my back when I said that. Fuck you for thinking me not wanting to be around for a decade is 'worth' because I drew a mediocre skeleton, and because somehow sadness is necessary. That line of thinking is so awful, here's a video explaining it:

PS: the reason my friends and I in these parts call my art 'art garbage' is because that's what my professors called it back in school for like 4 years, back when I started this shitshow. Much love.

[everythingmp3]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧

adult!Van x fem!reader (smut)

you´ve been dating Van for a while and a heated argument turns into something else, when you can’t hide that her rage is kind of a turn on.

minors dni. warnings: bottom!reader, fingering, slight degradation/domination

(disclaimer: a little longer/more plot, inspired by the few outbursts we see from Van in the show, hate sex if you wanna call it that but also more to it. anyway, I hope it conveys the vibe i was going for! enjoy xx)

fights were a rare occurrence for you and Van. you could count on one hand the amount of times you´d actually gotten loud with each other, but there was a through-line with all the fights, the same issue connecting them all: Van refusing to let you in. there were moments when you could tell that something had triggered a memory in her, which made her shut down completely but she refused to talk about it or accept help. she´d brush it off, isolate, leave you guessing, and it ate away at you every time. it was not something that happened often, but that night it just rubbed you the wrong way and it escalated to a fight. you were standing in the living room, she was by the counter in the kitchen nook, both of you pretty riled up at that point, arguing from across the room.

"you don´t tell me shit, Van, ever! I have told you everything about myself, all of it, yet you don´t tell me anything!" you said, visibly pissed off, she shook her head, eyes intense, hands grabbing the counter for support, "that´s not true. i tell you things all the time".

"you know what i fucking mean, not the things that matter! not the reason you sometimes get that look and space out and get all strange for an entire night. how do you think that makes me feel, to not be trusted with any of it?".

"it´s not about trust, i´ve said this a million times! it´s about protecting you, not dragging you into it!" she yelled, arms gesturing wildly, you just scoffed at that, "bullshit, that´s bullshit Van, i am grown, i can take it and you know it. that´s a lame excuse for your inconsiderate way of shutting me out" you were tired of the same old argument.

she got even louder then, "you have no idea what you´re fucking talking about. the kind of shit i am dealing with, that´s not for you to know, okay, it´s better this way."

"you seem to have no idea what´s better for me"

"oh really?" a sudden quietness to her tone that somehow sounded more threatening, she went over to you then, getting closer. "you think i´m wrong? you wanna know about all the fucking horror in my head? you think that´s what you need from me?", she was almost backing you against the wall then, her eyes burning into yours, her stance solid and unmoving, her chest visibly flushed from the anger. you nodded, challenging her.

"yeah? okay, you asked for it", she became spiteful, it all bubbled up in her then, "what detail do you need, huh? that i survived those 19 months in the woods by fucking eating people, friends, teammates, that i did that", you were staring at her then, your eyes fixed on hers, breath shallow, she was seething, "that they weren´t all natural deaths, that we we hunted them like animals, that we set traps, that we turned into fucking monsters out there, that i know the look of human flesh so well, that i get nauseous when i cut my finger. that´s what you wanna hear, yeah? that i was a brutal evil person, that i am scared i might still be? you happy now?" the pain in her voice was just as strong as her anger then, and all you could do was stare at her, take it all in, the sight of her overflowing with everything she´d left unsaid for so many years, her body practically on fire. in that moment, it struck you, all at once, how her strong deep voice, her attempt to corner and intimidate you, the animalistic look in her eyes, her unusual meanness; it was so different to her usual sweet way with you, that it stirred something deep inside of you. it wasn´t intentional, it just happened, your body, a sudden visceral need, a primal kind of pull towards her. you were trying to mask it but not very successfully, at first she mistook your wide eyes and shallow breath for fear, but then, she noticed it, she knew your body too well not to sense the shift, she shook her head in disbelief, leaning closer to you.

"are you fucking turned on right now?" she hissed, her eyes unrelenting, searching your face for an answer you weren´t willing to give, "you are, aren´t you? fucking hell. here i am eaten up by guilt because i am being a bitch to you and you´re getting off on it??" she was at a loss, she expected disgust, fear, shock, but not that, not the look on your face that you usually gave her when you were extremely desperate for her. "oh, so now you can´t talk back anymore, yeah?" she came even closer then, close enough to make you fully back against the wall, her breath so close you could feel it on your lips, trying not to make a sound, initially she was baffled, then something crept up in her: satisfaction. she realized she had the upper hand, which was delicious after a fight where she felt cornered, you could see it in her eyes, the switch, and you knew you were fucked.

"speak." she demanded in a stern tone, hands on your arms then, pinning you to the wall, it was horrible how hard it was not to moan just from that, your voice wavering as you returned her gaze, "i told you, i can take it.", you did it on purpose and she knew it, that way of wording it, rubbing it in her face, the repetition of earlier words suggestive then because the air was so charged, she pushed even closer to you then, fingers digging into your wrists, restraining you, "oh yeah? is that what you wanted all along? for me to be brutal and make you take it?" emphasis on the last words, almost a kind of disdain in there, "careful what you wish for" she said before pushing her knee up between your legs in one hard motion, making immediate contact with your pelvis, a sensation so violently arousing you let out a pathetic moan, wincing from it, she kept her knee there, not moving an inch, but you were stubborn, trying hard to not give her what she wanted, stifling the other sounds that were forming in your throat, so she moved her knee up against your most sensitive area through the fabric, you were whining then, breaking, losing your composure second by second, a slight grin on her face, not a generous one.

"fucking slut" the word hitting you across the face, she was not into degrading you, quite the opposite, the list of sweet names she called you during sex endless, so the harsh tone as she spat that out made you even more dizzy with heat, with the need for her to just have her way, and by that point she was deeply into the dynamic of it all, not truly angry anymore but riled up, willing to be rough, if that was what it was going to take to make you fold. you tried leaning forward to kiss her, but she let go of one of your hands and put her forearm across your chest, pressing you into the wall to keep you from doing something tender, shaking her head "i don´t think so", you were begging her then, "please just.." , an intense expression on her face as she groped your tits pretty hard, forcing more whining out of you, making you surrender, "jesus fuck i´m sorry okay".

you crying those words out softened her a little but she could tell you weren´t actually trying to apologize, you were just desperate to have her fuck you, which she couldn´t deny, so she wasted no time, "what´s that, i didn´t hear you?" she teased, as she took advantage of the fact that you´d already showered and changed, just loose sweatpants and no underwear in the way, her cold hand on your cunt in one second, a sharp breath in from you at the contact, "fuck you" you uttered, not very convincingly, shutting your eyes, she was only pushed further by that, "oh okay I see" she leaned forward, her hot breath on your cheek then, as she felt how wet you were, practically leaking, not even needing to push her fingers between your lips to feel it slick against her skin, usually she´d be gentle but in that moment she couldn´t be, pushing two of her fingers all the way into you without warning, no mercy, a loud cry escaping you then, immediately thrusting her fingers into you repeatedly, while still having you pinned against the wall, her breath ragged against your skin, her voice low and sultry, "this is what you wanted, isn´t it?".

Van was enjoying it, the power, there was a slight pain from her relentless motion but it just added to your arousal, you´d gotten soaked enough for it to feel good, the sudden change from zero to a hundred, your moans almost pornographic then, your walls throbbing around her knuckles, she leaned down, not to kiss you but to leave bites all over your shoulder, your neck, teeth digging in just enough to drive you insane, "fuck Van" you kept pleading, as she was doing her best to push you towards an orgasm, hitting the right spot, doing so with more force than usual, not wanting you to savor it but to be overwhelmed by it, pleasure as punishment, something like that, your hands were free to move again by that point, so your nails were digging into her back hard as you were chest to chest, she had no words left in her as she felt you cumming against her fingers, increasingly turned on herself, mind blank, groaning so close to your ear it just made you finish even harder, her fingers not slowing dow at all while you felt your whole body shaking, once your grip on her loosened she finally let you go, backing away from the wall, panting, her hand cramped up at that point, collecting her thoughts as you almost collapsed to the floor because your legs were done for, so you stumbled over to the couch, falling down against the cushions, exhausted.

the second Van turned and saw you resting there like that, she felt a wave of guilt rushing over herself, she was coming back to her senses and it hit her like a ton of bricks; that all you were trying to do during the fight was to get close to her, that all you ever fought her on was her unwillingness to let you be there for her during her darkest moments. you were younger than her, yet more patient, more emotionally available, which made her feel awful all of a sudden. she walked over to sit down next to you, giving you some space for a moment, the two of you just sitting there in silence, until she turned to you, reaching for your hand, her voice soft and quiet:

"hey, listen. I think I owe you an apology." you shook your head, "it´s fine really don´t-" she interrupted, "no, no i do. you weren´t saying anything crazy, it obviously just hit a nerve because it was true. i should be grateful you want to help me. sorry, really. i´m fucking stupid sometimes." a faint smile from you then, you slowly climbed over to her, half on her lap then, hands in her hair, "it´s fine. you know, i just wanted to make it clear, that nothing you could say or reveal about your life would make me leave you, ever. but i get that it´s hard to talk about it, so i´m sorry if i forced something out of you." her hands on your back then, under your shirt, caressing you as she stared up at you, enjoying the feeling of your fingers pushing her hair back, "stop that, you´re being too sweet, i don´t deserve that right now, not after all that..", you grinned then, amused "right, after calling me a slut", Van shook her head,"god don´t even-", you laughed then, "didn´t know you had all that in you", she was glad you weren´t truly hurt by it, joking about it, her gaze fell to a spot on your shoulder where she´d left a rather prominent bite mark, "jesus christ i really need to get a grip" one of her fingers tracing it, you shook your head, grinning, "oh, that part you don´t have to apologize for. I think it´s hot when you get like that. as you clearly realized and took advantage of", nudging her as you said this, she smiled then, "i did like seeing that look on your face" she admitted, a grin, "but don´t get used to it, i like this much better", leaning in and placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, your neck, pulling your face down to lazily press her lips against your cheek, your temple, your forehead, hearing you sigh softly, pulling away after a while to face you again.

"trying to make up for something there, Palmer?" you teased, hands on her neck, she eyed you, head tilted to the side, smiling, just taking in the view of your flushed face, "i think i can do better than that if i´m really trying to make it up to you", you raised your eyebrows, "oh yeah?", she nodded, hands on your waist then, pulling you closer, "yes. I´ll have to get on my knees to really deserve forgiveness, don´t you think?", your eyes wide then, impressed by her sudden smoothness, "i won´t stop you from trying", your lovestruck eyes giving away that she was of course already forgiven, feeling her shift from underneath you, pulling you up, "come on then, let´s go to bed" a gentle squeeze on your hand, making you realize that her being rough had its appeal, but would never compare to the feeling of her being all sweet and loving.

it didn´t fail to make her emotional that night; the realization that you truly did not care about what she´d shared with you, that you still saw her as just as worthy of your love as before. it would lead to her spoiling you even more the days and weeks after, if that was even possible.

[louisisalarrie]

Why do you think some larries like the idea of hl broken up in 2013 or 2016? I joined the fandom in 2017-18 and read back popular bloggers at that moment and everyone was convinced that they have been together, and some even were sure that Harry was very supportive in 2016 and did his best for Louis. Last few years I see more and more bloggers thinking differently. Have you ever changed your mind about hl and break ups?

hellooooo anon! welcome to the show x

a lot of the bigger blogs somewhat gave up hope, and started to fall off tumblr anyway because it wasn’t the platform it once was. The dynamic of this fandom is so different now, and visibly shifted after the band went on hiatus. The closeting got more and more aggressive over time, obviously, and then once the band split it was hard to keep on larrying because we weren’t getting content of them. And that’s the main thing I think has subconsciously or consciously swayed folks from believing they’re still together. It was mainly the hiatus.

Now, the hiatus was important in terms of contracts and stunts and we had so much hope that because they were no longer “one direction”, we’d see a large shift in stunts and the boys hanging out together, and perhaps a bit of optimism for a CO. we tried to make the best out of a very sad situation lol, but it made sense. They could be more free since they were both solo and with different teams.

However, we just didnt get what we hoped for. We didn’t see them reconnecting and we didn’t get to see them both being in the same place staring at each other with the same love in their eyes that they had in 2011, because they weren’t required to be. No band, meant no obligations together. So without the constant proof and subtle looks and brushes of their arms and giddiness, it was hard to keep up supporting them. It felt somewhat pointless because we didn’t see an end to it. It was just hoping they were seen together or we’d get SOMETHING, and we got and are still getting little tidbits, but it’s not the same amount of proof as before so people kind of fell off the wagon.

To be honest, I took a step back after 2017 because Tumblr wasn’t pumping as much as it used to, and my life got in the way. Unless something major happened, I was pretty MIA, unfortunately. But I’ve been back fully for a couple years now, which I’m happy about. But it’s easy to shift ideas when you aren’t getting photo and video evidence of them being loved up, ya know? The stunts didn’t stop after 1d. BBG didn’t end. We all bet so much on at least a couple of stunts dropping when they went on hiatus but it just didn’t happen. We were, and still are, caught in this closeting game of PR moves and bullshit tweets and gift baskets for a kid that isn’t Louis’. ANYWAY

Those are the reasons behind a lot of doubt that larry are still together. So, what do I think?

Well, I think that theorising about their breakups is just entirely unproductive for the cause that we’re fighting for. It feels almost… fanfic-esque, and like, I still see people calling themselves casual larries and believe they were together at one point and that’s why they still fight for their freedom, because of what they went through as kids and even their closeting now, but I just… don’t think it should be a theory that people try and convince others of. That’s not what larries are about. If you think they’ve broken up, cool, don’t come on here and try to prove to everyone why, because that’s just… silly. It’s almost an anti move, which a lot of old larries have shifted to, mind you, because of these theories of break ups and very little proof with a whole lot of reaching (sometimes) on our end at the moment.

It’s an argument a lot of people use, like theorising that they’re in an ethical non monogamous relationship, or aren’t together anymore but fuck casually, or genuinely hate each other, or they aren’t together anymore and they’re dating other people (some examples being stunts, some being completely wild theories), and yeah, it comes down to song lyrics and lack of proof otherwise that they’re still together.

A lot of L and H’s songs do have connotations of breakups, or getting back together, or being separated etc., and I see a lot of Larries say “oh well they must have broken up at some point like any relationship, they’re not perfect, but they’re together now” etc., which is great, fine, and normal because being with someone for like 13 years in those jobs is hard work. But I truly think it’s unproductive to theorise on shit like that, as Larries. It gives antis ammo, and I think it comes out of boredom. Because let’s be honest, us and many solos (except the niall solos rn they living it UP), aren’t getting a whole lot right now, larry or otherwise. Harry’s basically MIA, we saw louis and Harry both at the euros in the same photo, louis is doing a few more festivals before a break (god that’s gonna hurt), and so… idk. We’re all itching for something. We used to get new content every day back in the day, but we just aren’t getting it. Which is fine, I don’t expect that these days, but damn, throw us a bone lol.

Some folks like to believe that larry themselves are choosing to keep their relationship private for now, because they want to. That’s fine. Others believe they are still being heavily closeted. That’s fine. What we’re fighting for is the love between two dudes, regardless of whether they have broken up somewhere in between, because we want justice for them and a change in the industry.

Anyway, my belief is that they’re together now, and that’s all that matters. We could go into deep theories and shit about body language changes and attitudes and fighting in 2015/2016 or whatever, but I just don’t think it’s productive, or that simple.

Listen, if I was in that situation, like… it’d be fucking hard to give up after how hard you fought for this person, that love just doesn’t go away. Being that age as well, it’s deep in your soul when you feel it. So I really do think that it isn’t as simple as that. I think it probably got messy at times, frustrating sure, but I’m not going to theorise on that.

And that’s not me being ignorant about relationships and how they can fluctuate and fights happen and breaks happen and I’m sure those two went through hell, but I just don’t see them giving up on each other that easily.

Anyway, hope this gives you a little insight into my brain and what I think about this. You can check out skepticalarrie’s ‘they never broke up’ tag if you like, and I’ll have this in my pinned post for reference to what I think about breakup rumours etc as #still together still going strong.

Let me know if any other q’s or if this ramble needs some clarifying hehe. Thank you! <3

[piecesofreeses]

We've Got You

Nick ignores his mental health in favor of staying on top of work. When his involuntary age regression catches up with him, Matt and Chris are there. 

Told in 3rd person limited (like most of my stories) where the reader has access to Nick’s thoughts, but not Matt or Chris’s.

DISCLAIMER:

This is an age regression fanfic! Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill and it is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Hate will not be tolerated, nor will it be entertained. I will not give you my attention; your comment will just be deleted! Please don’t waste your time, just take your bullshit somewhere else!

One more note:

This is NOT incestual, nor is it sexual in any manner. The comfort Nick receives during and after his panic attack is purely loving, familial support. Yes! They cuddle! Yes! They hold Nick and rub his back! Yes! They share a bed for the night! No! None of that makes this “weird!” 

TWs: Panic attack, descriptions of the physical sensation of a panic attack, avoiding regression, swearing, lighthearted arguing, guilt for enjoying a pacifier

Okay on to the story!

Nick always tries to be the quick witted, loud, strong oldest brother. With the triplets spending so much time in LA just the three of them, more now than ever they have to keep each other in line. And yes, that means Nick has to take care of his brothers even when he doesn’t want to. 

Matt may be their transportation as the only brother with a license, but Nick still feels like he’s mothering them half of the time. He’s constantly sticking a hand between his brother's faces both literally and metaphorically. While Nick probably couldn’t love Matt and Chris any more than he does, they’re brothers; it’s impossible for them not to get on his nerves sometimes. 

Currently, the triplets are sitting in a parking lot about ten minutes from their house filming a car video. Nick is tired and has been a bit quieter than usual, leaving his quips and comebacks to a minimum, just listening to Matt and Chris rant. 

Suddenly, of-fucking-course, the two are arguing again. It’s something stupid about the song that’s playing in the background— no wait— it’s about Matt’s phone? Nick isn’t really sure, he’s just exhausted. It’s not the other boys fault; they can disagree and get at each other throats all they want in the car videos. Nick knows the fans love it, but in that moment he’s just so goddamn overwhelmed.

Nick tries to open his mouth to tell his brothers to shut the fuck up, but no sound comes out. He feels a bit like he’s sinking into the backseat, totally isolated from the argument in the front. Nick knows he’s fine, so why does he want to cry? Why can’t he get his words to come out?

A tear escapes and slips down his cheek. He tries to wipe it away but his arm feels so heavy and his fingers feel so clunky and they’re not moving the way he needs them to. Why is everything so hard?

Without even meaning to, Nick lets a little whine slip past his lips. Even though he hates asking for help, he’s sure he needs Matt and Chris. If nothing else, they need to turn off the camera, but apparently the fighting in the front seat is too loud, because the boys give no indication of hearing him. 

Oh no, Nick realizes as his mind gets even fuzzier, I’m slipping.

Nick knows he regresses if stress gets to him too much– his brothers know too, but God, it hasn’t happened in months.

He’s usually pretty good about preventing it by being gentle with himself, but it’s just been so fucking stressful this month. The end of the podcast just ended up being a lot of work and he didn’t have time to cater to his mental health the way he has to to make sure he never slips. 

This is the result, I guess, Nick thinks. Because he refused to show himself some goddamn love when he was big, his brain was forcing him to regress. And he didn’t get to pick when. 

“Matt?” The oldest choked out.

Still no response. Nick felt like he was sinking into his brain as everything started to feel eerily quiet, like his brother’s voices were coming from underwater. 

Maybe I’m the one underwater, he thinks as the whole world begins to appear muted in color. My sensory processing just conked out, didn’t it.

“Chris? Help,” Nick tried again, but it came out even quieter than the previous attempt. Despite his every effort, Nick felt his eyes well up. 

Why won’t they stop arguing? I need help! I need help and I don’t know how to get it! Someone please help me. Matt? Chris? Please help me.

It’s all far too much, so he closes his eyes and fights against his heavy limbs, eventually able to pick up his hands to cover his ears. He feels himself shaking gently and the first of his tears begin to flow down his cheeks. Apparently, Nick hasn’t breathed in a while, because suddenly he feels himself gasp involuntary. Fighting the sudden rush of air, his throat catches on nothing and he coughs out, forcing more tears to spill. 

Nick’s forearms are covering his cheeks from the way he's trying to protect his ears, and he feels them wet from how hard he's begun to cry. He convulses in a sob and finally, a loud enough sound comes out.

“Nick?!” He hears Matt yell. “Something’s wrong, Chris! Turn that shit off!”

They’re coming. They’re gonna help. Please hurry, though.

“Okay, okay I am. Go get in the back with him!” Chris’s response comes, quieter.

He doesn't even hear the door open, but suddenly Matt’s arms are around him. He’s wracked by sobs as his body relaxes into Matt’s chest.

It’s all okay. I’m okay. They’ll make it okay. 

Matt’s arms are rubbing Nick’s back as he shakes and he can feel how his tears have wet the shoulder of his t-shirt. A moment later, he feels the seat underneath them move like another body has sat down, and then he hears Chris’s voice. 

“It’s okay, Nick. We’ve got you,” Chris says gently. As Matt keeps touching him comfortingly, Chris keeps talking. 

“The camera is off and we can delete all the footage later. I’m so sorry we didn’t notice what was happening earlier. Matt and I are gonna help, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Chris,” Matt whispers, “Take him? I want to get us home.”

“‘Course,” Chris says. Nick whines and holds onto Matt, clearly comfortable where he is, but the boys are still able to switch who he’s sitting onto fairly easily. He's stopped crying and looks up at Chris as he pulls him into his lap. Chris is sitting properly in the left seat with Nick on his lap, back leaned against the door and head on Chris’s shoulder. It's probably illegal, but with the boy no longer crying, they won’t be taking any risks. 

As Matt gets out of the back and back into the driver’s seat, Chris haphazardly wraps the seatbelt over the two of them. Nick pulls his knees up and burrows his head into his brother's shoulder. Quietly, he pulls a thumb into his mouth before looking up at Chris as if waiting to be told off. He waits, half expecting to be called gross, even though he knows his brothers don't find his regression gross.

“Oh, you’re small, Nicky. How old are you?” Chris asks with nothing but love in his voice. Nick doesn't respond, just closing his eyes and sinking into the comfort.

“He’s small?” Matt asks from the front. “How old did he say?”

“Didn’t respond. I’d guess one by the thumb and how he was crying earlier,” Chris responds, petting Nick's hair and trying to make sure he doesn't slip out of his lap on the drive home. 

Matt sighs, “Okay, we’re only a minute away from home. What do you think we do when we get there? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him regress.”

“Well first get his pacifier, I don’t want his fingers in his mouth and longer than they have to be, but I’m pretty sure he’ll cry if I try to take them out without a replacement. Next… uhh… I don’t think he’s going to be chill with me letting go of him unless I'm literally putting him into your arms, but he seems exhausted. I’d say we all get in your bed and try to get him to go to bed? It’s late for all of us, especially for the baby,” Chris says, looking down at Nick and laughing quietly as they pull into the driveway.

“Alright, I’m going to come and help you stand up with him so you can carry him in. He’s not going to walk himself, is he?” Matt replies, looking back at the little boy curled into Chris with his thumb in his mouth. 

“No way.” Chris says, reaching to unbuckle them. Matt steps out of the car and opens the door for Nick and Chris. 

Sounding confused, Matt asks, “How are we going to make this work?”

“You just take him? I don't think I can stand up with him in my lap even with your help,” Chris suggests. Matt slots his arms under Nick’s knees and picks him up bridal style. Luckily, there is minimal protest from the little, just a whine and some still watery eyes. With Nick out of his lap, Chris climbs out of the car, shuts the door, locks it and runs up ahead of his brothers to unlock and open their door. 

Now that they are standing, Matt carries Nick with ease. Up the steps of their porch and into the house, the lack of strain on Matt’s face makes it appear as if Nick really is a baby. Chris smiles with the thought as he follows the two inside and closes the door behind them. 

“I’ll find his paci. Get in bed?” Chris calls out as he tosses the car keys on the kitchen table. 

“Got it,” comes Matt’s reply. Chris has no idea where the little’s paci might be, but it’s pretty important that he finds it, so he starts by tearing out the couch cushions to see if it's tucked underneath one of them. With no luck, he heads up to Nick’s room and strips his bed, checking if it might be in there. Unfortunately, the stupid blue thing is still nowhere to be found. 

Nick can hear Chris tearing his room apart looking for his pacifier as Matt carries him upstairs. 

He’s never gonna find it.

Too small to tell Matt where it is, he just tugs on his sleeve and looks down the hall to his room.

Fortunately, Matt gets the message. “Want to go help Chrissy?” Matt says and turns toward the sound of the rummaging. As they walk into the room, Chris looks at the boys defeated. 

“I can’t find it,” he sighs. 

“Losat,” comes Nick’s small voice. 

Oh no, are they going to think that means I lost it? No no, that’s supposed to be “closet.”

“In the closet?” Matt and Chris respond in unison, walking into the closet and digging through the junk on his closet floor. 

Oh thank God. 

Matt sets Nick down, leaning his back against the closet wall so he can move his shoes. Underneath, he finds a small shoebox covered in stickers. How promising. Opening it up, Matt discovers the pacifier and a couple small toys. 

“Bingo, Chris! It's right here,” Matt exclaims.

“Why’d you hide it away like this, sweet pea?” Chris asks the little boy, scooping him up like a koala. Nick doesn't respond other than a whine and rests his chin on Chris’s shoulder, facing the opposite direction. 

The boys walk out of the closet, Matt with a pacifier in hand and Chris with a Nick in… arms.

“I need to wash this off,” Matt says and walks into the bathroom. 

“Okay, bring it to us when you're done,” Chris says and hikes Nick up so his legs can wrap around his waist. Nick has one arm wrapped around Chris’s shoulder and neck and the other bent so his thumb can slip back into his mouth. “You ready for bed, honey?” Chris whispers into his ear as he leans over the bed, working to gently disconnect Nick from him. Eventually, he separates them, laying Nick down on his back in Matt’s bed. Chris pulls Nick's shoes off, brushes the little’s hair out of his face, kicks off his own Crocs and crawls into bed with Nick. He drags the covers up over them and pulls Nick closer to make space for Matt to lay on the other side of the boy. 

“Okay bub, I’ve got your paci,” comes Matt’s voice. Carefully, he pulls Nick’s hand away from his mouth and replaces it with the blue pacifier, slotting it between his lips. 

That helps. That helps so much. Why am I like this? Why does that help?!

Matt slips under the covers and wraps his arms around the boy. “Nick, honey, I can see you freaking out. It’s okay that you like that. It's not gross, it’s not bad, and Chrissy and I don't mind. We love you bubba.”

“Luv yous too.” 

[sapphire-weapon]

So, in light of recent events, I've been doing a lot of thinking. People ask me a lot how to get into analysis and where to start if they want to analyze characters and media -- and, historically, my answer has always been "start with the themes."

But there's actually a point 0 place to start. I never mentioned this, because I thought it went without saying -- but that was stupid for me to do, because people are coming to me with nothing and I'm expecting them to have something by default. That's dumb.

The real place that you start?

Is with the writer and the target audience. Who is writing this story, and who are they writing it for?

This is the exact reason why I've also said, in the past, that not all readings of a text are valid. The only way to make all readings of a text valid is by invoking Death of the Author.

So, what is Death of the Author?

Very plainly, Death of the Author is defined as: a literary theory that argues that the meaning of a text is not determined by the author's intention, but rather by the reader's interpretation.

A lot of queer media analysts and scholars, for example, invoke Death of the Author in their work, because they know that an author did not intentionally set out to write a story that was reflective of the queer experience -- but their argument is that there's a way to read the text that is reflective of that experience. They're not saying "this is what the story means." They're saying "this is what the story means to me."

And this is a very valid form of literary analysis, because it provides extra meaning to a work beyond what the author intended and makes it more accessible to a broader audience.

But the thing about Death of the Author is that you need to acknowledge that you're invoking Death of the Author. Because if you don't, then you're making a completely different argument, which is: "the author/work intends for us to take this meaning from it." And you can't say that in good faith for all readings of a story. There is no way to make a claim that there's a positive allegory for the trans experience within Harry Potter, because that is most certainly not what JK Rowling set out to do. However, you could make a Death of the Author argument in favor of that -- which would be great, because it'll piss her the fuck off.

That's what I mean when I say that "not all readings of a text are valid." When I say that, what I actually mean is "that is absolutely not what the writers intended for us to take away from this scene/character/relationship/line of dialogue."

So, if you're someone who's coming to me, personally, and asking "how do I do what you do?" -- I don't make Death of the Author analyses. That's not what I do. So, my step zero to writing meta is to consider who is writing the story and who they're writing it for.

And there's a few reasons why I do this.

First and foremost, I'm in the business of theorycrafting. In order for me to try to accurately predict where a character arc or storyline is going and how it's going to manifest in future titles, I need to try to hone my focus on the writer's actual intentions. Because if I can't see things from their perspective, I'm never going to be able to chart out a course for where they might be going. And I'm not always right -- but sometimes I'm really right. Like, really super right. And I can't stop being right. And that feels really good.

The second reason is because acknowledging the writers' intentions opens them up to criticism. It's hard to criticize a writer for a lack of inclusivity if you take the stance that all readings of a text are valid and therefore any of the characters could be XYZ marginalized group. It's hard to criticize a writer for a sexist narrative or a sexist framing of events if you make the argument "but it's possible this completely alternate interpretation is also valid."

Like, I love DBZ. I love Akira Toriyama. I cried openly when he passed. But DBZ has some sexist bullshit going on in it. And you can't criticize it or him for turning all the female characters into housewives and babymakers while also supporting a reading of the text that says "but this is the happy ending that the characters are fighting for in the first place, so it's actually empowering."

So, in the case of Resident Evil...

Resident Evil is being written and developed by Japanese men in their 30s, 40s, and 50s for a group of Western cishet male gamers between the ages of 18-35. That is their target demographic. They are not talking to my coworker who's a 24 year old afab bi enby who desperately loves the series; the series just happened to reach them despite that.

And while everything in RE released prior to 2005 is pure survival horror meant to make you constantly feel like you're on the back foot, everything from RE4 onwards is a power fantasy. There are still horror elements to the games and movies, but RE more turns into a monster-of-the-week series about cool characters doing sick wrestling moves on cool monsters.

The devs and also the majority of their target audience project onto the male protagonists of the series to a certain extent -- which is why there has only been one title released since 2005 with a focus on a female protagonist, and that's Revelations 2 -- and, even then, Claire had to share the spotlight with Barry. Women have been playable here and there and been considered "main characters" -- but they've never really been the focus of any new titles that have come out. Sheva is considered Chris's partner. The RE6 campaigns are primarily about Leon, Chris, and Jake. Revelations 1 is seen as a Chris and Jill game in equal measure. And even though Death Island was supposed to be about Jill -- it wasn't, really. Because every other character had to be there with her, too.

So, when I get shit for taking a "heteronormative perspective" to my RE analysis -- there's a reason why I'm doing that. It's not because this is how I inherently view the world. It's because that is the intention with which the games are being written. That is who is writing the games and who the games are being written for.

Let's take RE4 Remake as an example, here. Capcom had to mash three different women together in order to create Ashley and turn her into an idealized fantasy woman so that she had the perfect face, the perfect body, and the perfect voice.

And the games are being developed by and for men who project onto Leon and see him as a power fantasy.

That is why it's absurd to me for people to say that Leon and Ashley never flirted with each other in the game. Of course they fucking did. Capcom created the perfect woman with giant tits and a small waist and a huge ass and a supportive personality and put her into close quarters with a male power fantasy protagonist. They put the flirting in so that their target cishet male audience could live that.

What people don't understand is that the eagleone romance wasn't created for the sake of the ship. It was made because of:

dudes who want to fuck Ashley and

Yoshiaki Hirabayashi's love for fairy tales.

(What makes me say that Hirabayashi loves fairy tales? He wrote RE5, which has a shitton of fairy tale elements surrounding Jill and Wesker specifically and even an alternate costume for Sheva that's called "fairy tale." To find that he turned RE4 into a fairy tale wasn't surprising to me at all, considering what the source material was. But the RE5 thing is for a separate post.)

Capcom doesn't care about your ships or our ship wars. They didn't create a Leon and Ashley romance because "we ship these two characters together." They created a Leon and Ashley romance so that guys who want to fuck Ashley can feel like maybe they could.

And because Hirabayashi fucking loves fairy tales.

And I also love fairy tales, which is why I love the ship. But I also do recognize that there's a sexist element behind the construction of Ashley's character and am capable of criticizing the ship for that reason.

So. Yeah. Start there. Start with the writers. Start with the intended audience.

I know that RE isn't being written for me. So I have to look at it from the perspective of the people who it is being written for. And if you want to analyze media, you have to do that, too.

[ritchiepage2001newaccount]

WHY UNIVERSAL BACKGROUND CHECKS ARE JUST AS UNLIKELY AS EVER, UNFORTUNATELY

I'm a leftist (Libertarian-Socialist), who votes progressive, because I live under an "elected" government, and I had thought I had purged the MSNBC/CNN Nation from my friends list, but apparently not, as my timeline is just chock-full of media-driven hysteria over current events, so here's a primer:

"Liberals" who think their arguments are clever or relevant to the Second Amendment are exhausting.

They are not the left; they are just one half of the good cop/bad cop act of the corporate owned fire-hose of bullshit that is the corporate media, and corporate America's governing criminal cartel/duopoly.

Both cults "I like simple and ineffectual 'solutions', because they make me feel like I'm doing something, and I'm just stinky with fear."

There are over a hundred million legal gun owners, who some want to punish for somebody else's crime.

Well, there are some things to consider.

We've been a heavily armed country since 1621, and yet the epidemic of daily mass-shootings didn't begin until 20 April 1999 (Columbine), at a time when gun ownership was at an all-time low, and five years after Clinton's assault-weapons ban, so maybe guns aren't the variable.

Worth noting: One of the first things the "Pilgrims" did when they betrayed the Native Americans, was disarm "King Phillip" and his men.

Maybe, just maybe, dead school-children are the price of the neoliberalism practiced under the "Washington Consensus" of BOTH right-wing authoritarian parties since the 1980's? When your country offers you no prospects, and you become terrified of the future, what then? Fear can make unstable people do desperate things. Add to that a culture of celebrity, and what could possibly go wrong?

Another factor that goes completely unexamined, is the way Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill emptied our state hospitals onto our streets, and onto families ill-equipped to deal with the sometimes violent mentally ill.

Thank God, the "solution" is so simple…

Also, 84% of NRA members support universal background checks. The problem is, every time a bill comes up for a vote, Democrats add poison pill amendments guaranteeing defeat in the legislature (and the courts), and then they proceed to tell the TV cameras that "once again the GOP and the gun lobby have voted down background checks and defied the will of the people", or some such nonsense.

If you want to watch Dems sabotage universal background checks (while Republicans roll their eyes and face-palm) in real time, go here:

P.S. You can probably guess which one of these three groups I belong to (Hint: It's the one that's growing and actually decides elections):

LaborPartyNow!!!

P S The line, "You don't need 30 rounds to shoot a deer!" is not clever.

The Second Amendment has nothing to do with hunting tools, toys for hobbyists (target shooting), or even weapons for self-defense.

It's about ARMS!!!

It's about the individual citizen's right to arms, so they'll be prepared to join a militia, not the other way around. ‘Well regulated’ at that time, simply meant, ‘efficient.’ In other words, in order for a muster to be efficient, civilians needed to be already armed.

So the "collective rights" argument has a couple of problems that make it quite unhinged from history and reality.

1) As I've mentioned above, Americans have always been relatively heavily armed. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

2) Contrary to what you were probably taught in school, by the time of the Confederate artillery barrage on Fort Sumter, the war over slavery had already been going on for over six years, and was fought entirely by independent volunteer militia's. Fort Sumter was just the beginning of official involvement by government troops. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

3) In what universe do government forces need to have their right to arms protected?

4) Since when do National Guard members keep National Guard arms (Hint: they're kept at the armory, and have been since colonial times)?

5) Obviously, "Liberals" are stupid.

Again: #LaborPartyNow!!!

P P S That was ENTIRELY the point of the first fruits of dissent, the 10 Amendments we've come to call the BILL OF RIGHTS (which have become a beacon to aspiring democrats all over the world), to protect INDIVIDUALS from the government they had just created. #TrueStory

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Nice To Meet You - Guys Like You | Part I

an interactive top gun fic series! with a poll waiting for you at the end!

summary: Nat introduces you to the squad for the very first time. You expected a lot, but certainly not two of the most drop-dead gorgeous men ever to flirt with you.

6k only a tw for alcohol ig? otherwise just simping. on every and all ends.

guys like you masterlist | top gun masterlist

Nat's keys clanging onto the living room table should have been your first hint that something was not going to be normal about this evening. That she appeared in your doorway instead of vanishing into the shower next was an absolute red flag.

"We're going out tonight", she announced, not a trace of a smile on her face. You turned off your phone with a sigh and propped your head up on your pillow.

"Gee, not even a 'hello' or 'how are you' today, hm?", you asked.

"You need to go out", she went on, completely brushing over your interruption. She was dead-set on giving you a speech, you could tell. She was still sweaty, her hair slicked back, her flight-suit zipped up, but she was looking at you as though she hadn't just been through hours upon hours of what you'd probably call torture. "You've been just sitting in this room for the past two weeks and I can't stand it anymore."

You sat up with another sigh, tugging at your oversized, sauce-stained shirt that you were suddenly much too aware of.

"Nat, please, I need to get settled first."

"You settled a week ago."

She wasn't taking any bullshit today. She had let you off the hook too many times already, up until now swayed by your half-assed arguments of why you were hiding in your bedroom. "You're going out with us tonight."

"Us?", you asked, dreading the answer. Nat didn't have any friends outside of work here.

"Me and the squad", she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

"No", you laughed. "No, definitely not."

She frowned, finally moving out of the doorway and settling at the foot of your bed instead. At least it felt more like an eye-to-eye conversation now.

"It's just the squad", she shrugged.

"Just the squad?", you asked. "Just the squad? Nat, those people fly multi-million-dollar aircrafts on a daily basis, they're all ripped as hell and make thrice the money I made back in San Fran. I don't even have a job."

"First of all, you've applied for jobs, it takes time", she reasoned. (Sometimes you could have slapped her for her rationalism.) "Also I'm one of those people and my job never bothered you before."

You stared at her like she'd gone mad. How could she not get this? Yes, they were normal to her, they were her colleagues, her friends, but to you? Um, hello?

"Yeah, because I have pictures of you pooping your diapers", you said, exasperation lacing your tone. "I've known you for as long as I can remember. Those people have never met me. And I don't need them to meet me at my worst."

Even though she'd been dead-set on getting you out of this apartment, she still softened a little at that.

"You're not at your worst anymore", she reassured, smiling at you. "You're beyond that. You're starting a new life now."

"Still", you snorted. "I'm a nobody compared to you guys."

"God, don't say that!", she groaned, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "That kind of thinking is exactly why you need to get out of here for a few hours. You're coming with me, I don't care what you have to say about it. We leave at eight, we'll get takeout on the way and I promise that if you're not feeling any better by midnight, we'll go home."

You knew that you couldn't argue with her. She was determined to get you out of this apartment and even if you didn't agree, she'd drag you out screaming. She'd have no problem either - she was way stronger than you.

"I hate you", you mumbled, no real malice behind the words. She just grinned and got up to stretch.

"Great", she chuckled. "I'm gonna go shower and then get ready. If you're not done by eight I'm carrying you into the car myself, I don't care."

You just grabbed a lonesome sock from the bed and threw it at her as she turned and walked out, leaving you to yourself, your own thoughts and the realisation that you actually had to meet all those high-maintenance people. It took two seconds before you were tearing open your closet and dragging your shirt over your head. You had barely one and a half hours left to get ready and lord help you if you weren't finished on time.

...

You were buzzing with so much nervous energy when you got in the Uber that you felt like you were about to mutate into a bee. You couldn't imagine that would be any worse than what was about to happen anyway. Honestly, you'd been dreading meeting Nat's friends for months now, but it had got much, much worse when you'd moved out to San Diego. Because it had become a very real possibility. And today, well, today seemed to be the day that all those fears that had been festering for weeks and weeks would truly become reality.

You spent the entire car ride staring out of the window, thinking about how they'd surely all sneer at you, look at you with that expression just in between pity and arrogance that somehow all rich people wore. Maybe there'd be one or two decent people. Hopefully there would. Nat wasn't usually friends with absolute dickheads, but then again even back in highschool she'd got along with most of those popular jocks that wouldn't have looked twice at you. To be fair, she'd thrown some punches here and there, but you'd still rather keep to yourself than meet a bunch of snobs. At least you knew that Nat would be with you and that she wouldn't break her promise - if you weren't enjoying yourself, she'd take you back home dead on twelve.

You let out a last sigh when the car stopped, climbing out of your seat as slowly as you could while Nat paid, trying desperately to stall for as long as you possibly could. But she tutted at you and tucked her arm into yours, dragging you with her through the parking lot and over the threshold.

It didn't take long for you to realise that this was a navy bar. There were very, very few people in civilian clothes - in normal ones, you'd say - most of them were clad in uniforms. You could have rolled your eyes at that alone. Why were navy men always so goddamn eager to show off that they were navy? They couldn't seriously think anyone was going to throw themselves at them just because of their fucking uniforms. You'd much rather keep a very safe distance away from any and all navy guys - a radius of at least two miles.

"There they are", Phoenix said, a grin playing on her lips as she pointed at the corner with the pool tables. You internally braced yourself, taking another deep breath before you even dared to look where she was pointing, clutching the little purse you'd slung over your shoulder to ground you.

The bar wasn't particularly crowded yet and you could make out a group of people - not in uniform, thank god - huddled around both of the pool tables. As far as you could see, there was only one other woman. Of course. You should've guessed that Nat was flying with a bunch of testosterone monsters.

You hadn't expected much else, of course... but it still made you hyper-aware of the dress you'd picked out.

Nat whistled and let go of you when you got close enough to the squad (your skin was practically burning up and you were seriously considering turning around and making a run for it, but you'd never been too good at running and were much to scared to face-plant on the floor). The guys turned around like dogs, answering to her whistle and nothing more, and way too many pairs of eyes landed on you in the span of a single second.

"Alright?", Nat grinned, shoving you a little step in front of her. It wasn't like you were shy. You really weren't. Maybe you weren't exactly extroverted, but you certainly weren't shy. Usually. So you couldn't even be mad at her for forcing you to come out of your shell like this. "I'd like to introduce you idiots to my roommate."

One of the guys put his pool cue down and immediately your focus switched to him. You had to admit that for a moment there you forgot how to breathe. He was tall and he was blond and he had strikingly green eyes and broad shoulders and that button-up was really doing things for you. You'd expected Nat's friends to be talented and rich, sure, but not that goddamn handsome.

"You never told us your roommate's stunning", he drawled, all Texan accent dripping from his words like molten honey and sticking to your brain, and his grin almost sent you careening straight into his arms. You needed longer than you should've to really process his words, only realising that oh god, had he just called you stunning? when Nat was already rolling her eyes.

"Do not, Bagman", she hissed, "flirt with her or I will end you."

Bagman only chuckled at that and strode towards you, holding out his hand and luckily you had enough braincells left to grasp it. Normal, you told yourself. Totally normal greeting. You did your best to ignore the heat in your cheeks and the way his fingers felt.

"Hangman", he introduced himself, that award-winning grin still on his lips. "But you can call me Jake."

He winked, completely brushing over Nat's threat. She slapped the back of his head and he finally pulled his hand from yours as you stuttered out your name.

"What did I just say", Nat seethed, practically dragging him away from you. He just shrugged and chuckled to himself.

"Can't help myself around beautiful ladies, I'm afraid."

She slapped him another time for that and he brought his hand to his hair to rub over the spot that you were sure must already have been sore. Nat had a wicked right hook.

"Keep it in your pants, Bagman", she threatened again, then turned back to you. "Alright, now that the worst is over, I'll introduce you to the others."

She spun to stand next to you, eyes narrowing as she paused for a second. You could barely raise your eyebrows. All of this was so overwhelming. You'd expected everything from embarrassment to ridicule, but certainly not that anyone was about to flirt with you. And one gorgeous piece of human being as well.

But he probably did that with everyone.

He was navy, for gods sake! What were you thinking? Navy guys were toxic assholes that brought a new conquest home every night only to leave them unsatisfied and doing the walk of shame in the morning. You had enough troubles already, you really didn't need to add another man to the pile.

So you straightened and made yourself swear not to give Jake another second of acknowledgement.

Nat seemed to have finished her assessment of the group, whatever it had been, and she didn't look satisfied.

"Where's Bradshaw?", she asked.

"Probably doing what he does best", Jake sighed, snatching the pool cue up again and leaning over the table to take a shot. "Slow ridin'."

You had seriously no clue whatsoever how pool worked, but he straightened again with a self-satisfied expression and you guessed he must've done good, especially when his friend groaned. He caught your gaze and you snapped it away, cursing yourself for already fucking up on your promise. Nat huffed.

"He better have a convincing excuse", she muttered. "I thought I told everyone to make a good first impression."

Then she clapped her hands.

"Okay! Anyway. Next to Bagman, that's Coyote."

Coyote raised his beer at you and smiled. You gave him a little wave.

"Next to Coyote that's Fanboy and next to him that's Payback."

You waved at them too, laughing as Fanboy waved back with just a little too much vigor and as Payback threw you a sloppy salute. Nat turned to the other pool table.

"Over there that's Fritz, Yale, Harvard, Omaha and Halo."

She grinned, grabbed you by the shoulders and maneuvered you around, pointing at a man with big glasses on his nose, sitting in one of the few chairs that were facing the pool tables. He stopped popping nut mix into his mouth the second your eyes fell on him, his hand hovering uncertainly in mid-air.

"And that's", Nat said, almost prideful, "That's Bob."

"Ooh!", you keened, a little more confident that everybody seemed at least somewhat happy to see you and a little more excited now that you remembered a person from Nat's stories. "Backseater Bob?"

"That's me", Bob chuckled, red tinting his cheeks as he smiled, putting away the nut mix to wipe his hands off on his pants and reach one out to shake yours. You couldn't help but mirror his grin - his fingers were soft and he was gentle with you, a bit unlike Jake. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too", you nodded, already comfortable with him after all of two seconds. You understood now why Nat was so glad to have him as her backseater - he seemed like the complete opposite of the navy cliché that you despised so much.

Bob just smiled at you for a moment. His glasses made his eyes a little bigger than they probably were and honestly, you could see yourself getting along well with him. He seemed sweet and genuine and kind and you could feel your anxiety start to let go of you, start to slip away a bit.

"Oh", he let out and straightened. "D'you want something to drink?"

"She does", Nat interrupted before you could decline, as though she'd already known you would. She probably had, to be honest. She knew you well enough. "Would you get us two tequila shots and two mojitos?"

"Two tequila shots and two mojitos?", you laughed, turning around to her in surprise.

"I told you, you need to let loose", she grinned. "And we're letting loose tonight!"

"Oh yeah", you snorted, pushing her away by her shoulder as Bob got up and walked over to the bar. "Really letting loose apparently."

Nat only laughed and let herself flop down on one of the chairs, patting the seat next to her with Bob's nut mix on it. You grabbed it and sat down as well, brushing your hand down the front of your dress, smoothing it out.

You watched Nat's friends bustle about the pool tables. Watched Nat's squad as they talked and laughed. Watched Jake - just out of the corner of your eyes, really! - as he clapped Coyote on the back and you could've sworn that even though you really definitely weren't looking!!! his eyes were fixed on you. It had you fiddling with the straps of your dress.

"So?", Nat asked eventually, drawing your attention back to her. "They're not as bad as you thought, are they?"

Internally, you had to agree with her. Okay, maybe you'd been a little overdramatic. Maybe they weren't as bad. They didn't seem so. But also you'd known them for less than two minutes and you knew just how good people sometimes were at deceiving you.

"Give me a minute to get to know them and I'll tell you after", you smiled.

"That I can work with."

"Ladies", Jake's voice rang out, just before he stepped up right in front of you, leaving you practically no choice but to look up at him. He was grinning, the pool cue still in his hand. "You'll play a round, won't you?"

Nat shifted in her seat.

"Haven't got your ass kicked enough yet?", she asked.

"You know you couldn't kick my ass if you tried, Phee."

"We'll see about that."

She was up in a second, grabbing the cue from Jake and strolling over to the table as you watched her. You hadn't moved. You weren't about to.

That almost lazy kind of teasing they had going on reminded you of all those other people like Jake that she'd been friends with throughout her life. Not that you didn't make fun of each other - wasn't that practically the baseline of every friendship? But with them... You couldn't put your finger on it just now. It wasn't that they actually despised each other, you knew what Nat's hatred looked like and it wasn't this, and it certainly wasn't flirting either, you knew what Nat's type looked like and as handsome as you found Jake, he definitely wasn't it. Maybe it was just the combination of their personalities, maybe it was nothing at all. It was a bit like they still hadn't quite decided that they liked each other, even though they obviously did get on.

"What about you?", Jake asked and you blinked up at him in surprise. Sure, he'd addressed the both of you, but you'd kind of just assumed that he'd meant Nat.

"Uh, I don't play", you said carefully, still unsure if - and if, then why - he was talking to you. Hadn't Nat just agreed to play against him? Were two players not enough somehow? Was this like, a group game?

Jake raised his eyebrows.

"You don't play pool?", he asked, like he'd never met anybody who dared not play pool.

"No, I don't", you said, very slowly, as though that would somehow lessen the risk of miscommunication. "I don't know how to."

The corners of his lips tugged upwards at that, just slightly, like he wanted to hide his grin from you. Was he making fun of you? Honestly you couldn't even be mad at him if he was - you'd expected pretty much nothing else from the squad. But it did come as a bit of a surprise now that your impression of them all had so rapidly changed.

"Well we can't have that", Jake tutted, reaching out a hand again, hanging in mid-air as you looked at it sceptically. This whole situation was a little overwhelming. Or maybe it was just him that was a little overwhelming. "You're at a navy bar, Sunny. You have to know pool."

You glanced from his hand back up at his face and felt kind of daft with how much time your brain needed to process all this.

"Sunny?", you asked, because of all the questions that you had this was the easiest one to phrase. And maybe because it was the thing that had thrown you off track the most. Jake's grin only widened.

"Navy nature to give nicknames, darlin'", he chuckled while you realised that you'd still not taken his hand and that at this point it probably started being weird (and heavy) to hold his arm out like that. So despite your earlier promise, which, you had to admit, you'd already thrown out of the window a second after you'd made it, you acknowledged him very much. As carefully as you possibly could, you put your hand in his as he talked, and immediately he tightened his grip on you and helped you stand up. You were a little too close to him now, a little too close for good, and if Nat hadn't been occupied racking the pool balls she probably would have kicked Jake in the face. But he didn't seem to mind, only carried on talking, apparently not whatsoever surprised by the sudden close proximity or by how easily the pet names had slipped off his lips.

Sunny. Darlin'.

"And that's just a lovely dress", he went on, leaning in even closer, so close that for just a second you almost could have felt his breath on your ear. "I think yellow might be my new favourite colour."

He pulled back with a wink and then he was gone, just the weight of his hand resting in yours left as he led you to the pool table Nat was setting up. He let go of you the very moment she looked up, a smile on her lips, and your breath caught in your throat. Jake was playing a dangerous game and he was pulling you down with him.

He strolled around the table back to Coyote, who was still holding the other pool cue in his hands, and Nat took the few steps towards you, her smile dropping a bit.

"Bagman bother you?", she asked, genuinely a little worried.

"Nah", you said, a little shaky, and shook your head. "I'm fine."

It wasn't a real answer, but she let it slide, nodding as she watched Jake return with the second cue now.

"You just let me know if he does", she muttered and then there he was, too quick for you to respond.

Nat was usually protective. She always had been, and rightfully so. Always a little weary of guys you went on dates with, always a little weary of guys you brought home. You'd minded sometimes, like back in college when you'd had a crush on that guy from musical theatre and she had threatened so vividly to break his neck if he hurt you that he'd never talked to you again. But she had clearly been right about most of them and so you really should trust her, really, you should... and yet.

She was practically telling you to stay far away from Jake. She was doing it the other way around, for now, but you were sure she'd give you the whole speech tomorrow morning as well. And you'd just met this guy, it wasn't like you were head over heels in love with him, but he was charming and flirty and it was working on you.

He was just about to open his mouth and, you guessed, start explaining pool to you when Nat suddenly straightened.

"Bradshaw!", she called out, so loud that the whole bar must've heard her, and you turned to see what - who - she was looking at as if in reflex. The crowd nothing short of parted for him.

A ridiculous Hawaiian shirt on that caught your eye first, then those sunglasses - were that Ray Bans? Hadn't they got out of style like, a decade ago? - and then... Oh, and then.

"That's a pornstache", you said, quite dumbly, you had to admit, and Nat snorted. You turned to her and then back to him and even though you were still very much gaping, you were laughing now too. "Like, an actual 80s pornstache."

Pornstache had caught sight of his squad apparently and was making his way towards you and the closer he came, the less funny you felt about the whole situation.

Pornstache was attractive.

Maybe it was the hair. Maybe it was the swagger in his step, the fact that he was practically oozing confidence. Not that the others weren't, but he... well, you kinda couldn't look away from him as he approached. Maybe it was the moustache after all.

You hadn't ever met a man who could pull that off.

He shouldn't be allowed to either.

God, how was Nat working with all these gorgeous specimen? They should all be sued for looking like that. It was too much power in the hands of the navy.

Pornstache stopped short in front of you, a light grin on his lips, and someone - Jake perhaps? - let out a resigned breath.

"You're late", Nat said, crossing her arms like she always did when she didn't like something. His grin only widened.

"There needs to be someone fashionably late in every squadron", he chuckled, slipping off his sunglasses and hooking them into the collar of his shirt and if it had been up to you you'd have forced them back up on his nose because now you had to watch as he glanced from Nat to you and took you in. He was way too attractive to be eyeing you up like this.

Men like him didn't eye you up like this.

Especially not in yellow sundresses.

Not that the dress wasn't pretty. It was. And you weren't overdressed like you'd have been in the black one that you'd had hanging at your closet door too. But it was kind of weird to be standing in front of all these testosterone-y men in a cute little dress like that.

Though Jake seemed to have liked it.

God, first him and now Pornstache...

"Rooster", Pornstache said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. "Or Bradley. But you can call me whatever you want."

You could practically hear Nat rolling her eyes as you shook his hand, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen into your face as heat rushed through your arm and straight to your cheeks.

"What is it with you guys tonight?", she sighed, uncrossing her arms and grabbing her pool cue instead. She turned back to the table that she'd finished setting up and nudged Jake away to take his place, apparently at her wits' end and done with the conversation. Pornstache - Bradley - wasn't.

No, he was still looking at you and you still couldn't look away.

"So you're Nat's new roommate, I assume?"

You couldn't help but admire the way his voice sounded. If it already had you melting like this within two minutes of meeting him, you didn't want to imagine how you'd react if you heard it in the morning. Or late at night. Or close to your ear. Or- Wow, you really needed to fucking stop.

"Yeah", you choked out and cleared your throat as embarrassment set in. You shouldn't be thinking about Nat's colleagues like this. You shouldn't be thinking about anyone like this. You needed a drink and to cool off. God, where was Bob with those tequila shots? "Yeah, Nat's new roommate."

Bradley nodded, that damned grin still on his lips.

"But you knew her before?"

"Yeah", you said again, a little steadier this time. "Yeah, I've known her my whole life."

You should stop saying 'yeah' that much. It was making you sound like that was the only word you knew. Yeah.

"Really?", he asked and raised his eyebrows, glancing at Nat who was now leaning over the pool table and taking her shot, totally concentrated. "She never told us, just said she was introducing us to a friend who's recently moved. If you've known her that long, she could've introduced us back at Top Gun."

"You went to Top Gun with her?", you asked, raising your eyebrows to look at Nat too. "She never told me."

"Seems like she didn't tell us much about each other", Bradley said and somehow, he seemed rather amused by it - his lip was quirking up and his moustache followed and you felt like that should rather be funny than attractive. Shame that it wasn't.

Before you could say anything more, Bob came back with a tray in his hands, balancing a bunch of glasses. He barely seemed to notice Bradley, too focused on not letting anything fall and shatter.

"Tequila or mojito first?", he asked. Nat straightened up and grabbed the two shot glasses from the tray.

"Tequila", she said, back to at least a half-grin. "Thanks, Bob."

She gave one to you and clinked them and the two of you downed your shots like you'd always done - one big sip in sync, heads thrown back and glasses practically touching your noses and laughs on your lips when you put them down again, with just a bit too much fervor on Bob's tray.

"Now the mojito", she chuckled, taking the cocktail glasses next and handing you one again.

"You ladies seem to be enjoying yourselves", Jake suddenly said, leaning against the pool table with that grin on his lips but somehow, it was tighter now and his voice was a little strained. Maybe it was the tequila just blurring up your senses for a moment. Maybe your perception was fucked.

"Have to", Nat grinned and winked at you. "After all you lot aren't any help."

Bradley and Jake started protesting like she had somehow insulted their honour, but she only laughed and turned back to the game, already taking a sip of the cocktail in her hand. You followed her example.

Bob carefully sat down the tray on one of the chairs and picked up the nut mix again. You couldn't help but smile. It was somehow endearing, the rest of them sipping beer and drinks and him just popping nut mix into his mouth like a grad student.

"So, Sunny", Jake said, suddenly so close again that you could smell his aftershave. "Your turn."

You glanced at the pool table and raised your eyebrows. You should probably say no, thanks, I can't play, goodbye and leave it be. Leave him be. Nat would probably prefer if you did. She'd probably prefer if you turned around and joined Bob and made friends with her backseater instead of let Bagman, like she so affectionately called him, teach you how to play pool. But he was an attractive man and you were only human and anyway, you imagined you'd have enough time left to talk to everybody else. So you looked up at him and his impossibly green eyes that you couldn't get over and took the cue out of his hands.

"Only if you teach me", you said, stopping short at the end to ponder if maybe, just maybe.... So you grinned and added "Bagman" and watched his face fall for a second as you pushed past him and tried to make sense of the pool table.

Alright, so there were nine balls in different colors and if you were right, you were supposed to push them into the pockets in the corners and at the sides. Right? But that couldn't be it. It couldn't be that easy.

Jake had apparently restarted his original train of thought and turned around to you, his chest almost - just almost - pressing into your shoulder.

"I was planning on teaching you, Sunny", he chuckled, straightened and turned a little more serious. "A'ight, it's actually quite easy once you got it. So we've got ten balls in total and your goal is to pocket the nine colored ones. But you're only allowed to strike the cueball, the white one. With me so far?"

"So far", you nodded. "So basically I have to like, hit all these other balls but just with the white one and not with the cue? And if I pocket the cueball then what happens?"

"That's a foul", he explained patiently. Honestly you hadn't expected he'd react so well to dumb questions. "If you pocket the cueball, your turn's over and the other player-"

He stopped short. You were just about to ask if he was alright when you heard it too.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

The music was gone. Completely gone. Someone had turned off the jukebox.

"Every fucking time", Jake muttered, running his hand over his face as you looked at him and frowned. You were missing something major here and honestly couldn't think of what. But then Nat put down her cue and her drink and maneuvered around Jake to pry your drink from your hand as well.

"You're gonna wanna see this", she chuckled, one of those rare, all-consuming grins on her lips and you could hardly do anything but stumble after her as she made her way through the crowd. You didn't think anything could have prepared you for the next five minutes.

Because okay, Bradley was sitting at the piano. Okay, Bradley could also play said piano. And okay, Bradley could sing as well. And just maybe he really wasn't bad. Maybe he was really, really good.

Maybe Nat thought the same because you hadn't seen her that carefree in a while. Maybe everyone did - almost everyone, at least, because almost everyone was laughing and singing along and having the time of their lives. Maybe you did too.

No, you definitely did too.

Bradley had popped his sunglasses back up on his nose and was clearly enjoying being the center of attention for a minute. And you couldn't help but be completely enamoured by it. By him. You couldn't help but laugh along with Nat and let her twirl you around and sing, too loud and probably much too off-key, and fall from Bob's arms into Fanboys and you really couldn't help but somehow feel like a part of the group.

And then the song was over and you were panting, your cheeks hurt from grinning and you had to brace your palm on the lid of the piano to not fall over.

Fanboy's arm was still wrapped around your shoulder somehow and you didn't know if you were leaning on him or if he was leaning on you, but it didn't really matter. You were glad now that you had chosen that summer dress - it was light and breezy and you didn't have to worry about sweating through skin-tight fabric or anything like that. No, you just had to sweep your hair out of your face and throw your head back and laugh.

And look at Bradley, maybe, whose eyes were twinkling with amusement. He looked straight out of a fever dream. His sunglasses lay abandoned on the piano lid - he had really pretty eyes. How had you not noticed before?

"Is this like a regular show you pull off?", you asked, a little breathless as Fanboy untangled himself from you, the conversation the rest of the squad was starting up now fading into background noise. You were running high on adrenaline, the tequila was finally hitting your system, the anxiety was fully disappearing and because spirits were so high, your confidence came crashing back into you like a huge wave of relief that had you collapsing on the piano bench right next to Bradley. "'Cuz it seemed like everyone was quite used to that."

He chuckled, turning his head so he could look at you. He was tall, you realised, really really tall, at least taller than you by a head and you didn't know if it was this apparent because you were suddenly sitting or just because you were suddenly so close to him. Not that you wanted to complain either way.

"Let's say it's not the first time", he smiled. You raised your eyebrows.

"i'll ignore that you're deflecting for now", you laughed, not quite caring that he was deflecting at all. (You were pretty sure you knew the answer anyway.) "And instead I'll say I'm impressed. I've always admired people that can play."

"Do you play?", he asked, genuinely interested, drawing his hands back from the piano as the jukebox started up again. You had to say you'd liked the live music a little better. A little a lot. After all, Bradley Bradshaw was a sight to behold.

"No", you said. "Not anymore. I played... Well, I kinda had lessons back when I was little, but my family- Yeah, no, I don't play."

You swallowed and he raised his eyebrows, but luckily didn't comment on your stuttering. You really didn't need to traumadump on people you'd met half an hour ago. If it had even been half an hour. (It probably hadn't.)

"I could teach you", he offered and maybe you were wrong, maybe you were stupid, maybe you were tispier than you'd thought but you could've sworn that just for a moment, he glanced down at your lips - but you probably were wrong and stupid and tispier than you'd thought.

"Slow Ride."

You looked up to see Jake leaning against the piano, a beer bottle in his hand and a forced grin on his lips, entirely focused on Bradley next to you.

"Bagman."

You glanced back and forth between them as they stared at each other in silence.

Maybe you shouldn't be here. This felt like you really should not be here. Were you missing something? You'd thought that the squad was like one big family. These two seemed more like they were about to rip each others throats out and you didn't know if you wanted to be in between them when it inevitably happened.

"So you're back in showbiz, I see", Jake chuckled, putting his beer down on the piano lid.

"Some people can actually make it there, whether you believe it or not", Bradley shot back, his eyebrows raised and his lips still twisted into that grin that you were pretty certain was an act in itself.

Jake let out a dry laugh.

"Maybe you should change career paths", he suggested. "Actually do make it somewhere."

"Maybe I should leave", you muttered, already halfway off the bench and on your way to down the mojito Nat had left on the pool table, just to get out of whatever this was. Even though whatever it was came closer than anything else had so far to what you'd expected, it threw you off track more than the rest had. You needed a minute. And you needed a drink.

"Don't worry", Bradley said, turning back to you after throwing a last glance at Jake. "Bagman's gonna go now."

"And leave the poor woman with you?", Jake chuckled, straightening up with a grin. His beer bottle clinged against the wood. "I don't think so."

Having the both of them stare at you had your skin crawling.

That confidence that you'd had earlier? Gone. The anxiety you'd thought you were done with? Back. Fun! Where was Nat to get you out of this? Where was Nat when you needed her? You should've listened to her and kept away. You should've sat down next to Bob and had a pleasant conversation, but no. No, you had to find the two troublemakers of the team and get right in between their little quarrel.

"I was about to teach the poor woman how to play piano", Bradley said, eyes still fixed on you.

"Really?", Jake asked. "Because I was about to teach her how to play pool."

He raised his eyebrows and Bradley did too and they were looking at you all silent like they expected you to say something now and oh god, what had you got yourself into?

Two of the most gorgeous men you'd ever seen - to your great dismay - who were friends, no, colleagues of Nat's, who flew multi-million-dollar aircrafts and spent their days saving the world, looking at you and flirting with you and... flirting with you.

Nat had been right, no matter how this would work out.

You'd really needed to get out of your bedroom.

...

So you've tripped and fallen right into a love triangle, it seems. What are you gonna do?

a/n: this somehow didn't really turn out the way i wanted but i dont mind? like, im quite happy with how it did turn out tbh!!!! and im so excited to finally publish this chapter ahhhhhhhh lets see what happens!

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[axailslink]

Judy Harmon Hc's

• Judy is the definition of acts mean and is mean

• Doesn't smile much but when she does you are usually the reason

• Loves hearing you talk she calls you 'songbird' because as she's said before "you talk so damn much"

• Completely different when you both are alone

• Kissing is her love language and she takes it very much to heart if you peck her lips instead of giving her a full kiss

• Demands your attention with just a simple look

• Feisty as hell

• Loves holding her rifle it's something about having a little extra weight in her hands that makes her feel good

• Can be violent but never to a lover of course however anyone else she's quick to throw punches first talk later

• Do not let the height fool you she is the dominant person in the relationship

• She has a stone cold face however when you are anywhere near it lightens you can literally see her eyes smile before she does

• Judy loves when you touch her in any kind of way whether it be sexual or a simple hand hold

• Can not deal with being away from you for too long she will complain the whole time

• OVERPROTECTIVE? Absolutely if you're joining her while she's patrolling anything black panther party related she's standing in front of you rifle in her hand and she's made you grab her switchblade. "That pig moves you better be gone"

• If she sees you hurt her in any way, shape or form all of her morals are thrown out of the door

• Surprisingly was very nervous your first time like didn't know where to put her hand nervous you had her sweating and shit

• Not easily jealous or threatened by another attractive person in fact she laughs at someone trying to get with you. (It took her a while to get your number so yeah seeing anyone else trying is a hilarious sight.)

• Arguments with her can last forever because she's so damned stubborn

• Claims to hate cuddles but loves skin to skin contact 🙄 make it make sense

• After an intense night -whether it be fighting the pigs or fucking- she just wants to lay with you skin to skin completely nude the only warmth you two are using is each other. She loves that.

• Can't do the whole secret thing and doesn't care that you're both women

"I don't see the problem I love her just as much as a man loves his wife. Sounds like some made up bullshit to me y'all stay tryna control the next motherfucker"

Nsfw kinda 🤷🏾‍♀️

• Wants your eyes on her at all times especially when you're climaxing "look at me"

• Walks you like a dog it's honestly kind of embarrassing but if she's missing you and gets the smallest moment alone with you she's grabbing you by your pants and pulling you to a corner with some sort of privacy

• Does not like repeating herself and she won't

• Heavy on wanting you to beg for her "I'm sorry what did you say? I couldn't hear you...did you say faster?"

• Loves to overstimulate you just because she loves seeing your legs shake and hearing your mumbles, whimpers and whines drives her crazy

• Aftercare is a must and will never leave you without it

• Loves teasing you while you're in the bath will touch will bite will nip but she won't give you what you want. Her fingers will rub every part of your skin except where you truly desire it. So long story short she's fucking annoying and will tease you for her own personal fun.

• This woman lives in your thighs you will wake up to her kissing up your thighs on many mornings it's a tease thing of course but sometimes she furthers the action especially if she knows she won't be home at a reasonable time

• Her favorite thing to do to you is to bend you over a counter and ram her fingers inside of you knuckle deep just before she has to leave because she knows that's all that will be on your mind as you're working, eating and going about your day.

• Never leaves you unsatisfied if you're unsatisfied she's unsatisfied

• Oh my God's you let her anywhere near your cooch oh she ain't stopping until her jaw is locked and in pain

• Your legs squeezing shut or shaking is only motivation for Judy in fact call her name out while you at it because it does nothing but rile her up

• "Captain Harmon" yeah you might want to remember that she prefers that name

• Seeing as you are rarely seen with a man she does everything possible to make sure people know you are taken so you have plenty of marks to show it. Hickeys usually trail from your neck to your inner thigh when it comes to Judy.

• You licked her fingers clean once and now she loves to see you do it all the time

"there we go clean that shit up"

• Loves to try new things and is always open to an experiment

<3 <3 <3 ᴊᴜᴅʏ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴ

uoɯɹɐH ʎpnſ <3 <3 <3

"Cum on my tongue and I'll be home on time tonight to finish this off correctly"

"stay still"

"You know my name don't play with me"

"I should tie you up next time... I hear that's something new folks are doing"

"If I have to repeat myself you gone piss me off"

<3 <3 <3 ᴊᴜᴅʏ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴ

uoɯɹɐH ʎpnſ <3 <3 <3

A/n: I had way too much fun with this shit anyways enjoy buh bye ✌🏾(I'm so I'm love with this woman y'all have no fucking idea.)

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[anotherkindofmindpod]

So on reading a bit more of McCartney Legacy, the breakup section seems to align more with the typical Jean Jacket interpretation to me... is that your impression?

My take of the Breakup Section of McCartney Legacy is that it DOES align with the Traditional narrative, but not necessarily the Jean Jacket narrative.

What's the difference? I think the Traditional Narrative is more like Paul's and John's Public version, the "Official" version, the Common Ground version: John privately quit in September '69 and meant it; Paul didn't want to break up, but begrudgingly accepted it. Cue: divorce proceedings and the inevitable ugliness. The Jean Jacket Narrative is more like Yoko's PR (or JohnandYoko's PR): The Beatles were essentially a chrysalis that required Yoko to break the spell and release John from what had become a cage. After he dumped Paul (a relic of his childhood), he was able to fulfill his true mission. Ultimately, John's Higher Artistic Purpose, Yoko's transformative partnership and their shared drive for World Peace were too strong and too big for the Beatles. Paul, OTOH, was childishly stuck in Little Boy land, wanting to make mindless pop music with his schoolmates (tsk tsk tsk). Unlike John, Paul never grew out of his desire for childish friendships and refused to progress. Pathetic and sad, Paul limped along (with his successful marriage, beloved family, numerous fantastic albums and tours, etc), while John finally blossomed and flourished without him. It might seem like a depressingly low bar, but I can't emphasize enough how remarkable and progressive it is to read a book on Paul in the 70s without that Jean Jacket narrative! I don't mind reading the Official Narrative! Because personally I didn't expect (or particularly need) the McCartney Legacy to re-write the Breakup for me. Having done years and years of work on the break-up myself, that's just not what I was looking for. What I DO appreciate is that their coverage, while including all the most vital facts and events, was sparse, fairly unemotional, and did not ever demonize the other Beatles. (They did however agree that Klein was objectively shit, which I GREATLY appreciate). It's almost impossible to read a Beatles book that doesn't insert snide commentary about John or Paul's behavior, so this was immensely refreshing. -Phoebe Incidentally, we feel like the Real Version of the breakup is much closer to: JOHN: Paul, you turned on me the second the Beatles were done. You jumped ship without a backwards glance, cut me off completely and then turned your lawyers on me! WTF!?! PAUL: Bullshit! I loved you and wanted to work things out. I would've stayed forever, but YOU said you wanted a divorce! You TOLD me to fuck off out of your life! WTF?!?! I feel like they're having this argument for 2-3 straight years, if not for the rest of their lives. (*grumble, sigh, cry, rip out hair*) Sometimes I wonder to what extent they were truly able to see things from the other's POV. IMO, they were both so pathologically afraid they loved/needed the other more, it clouded their ability to see how much they were hurting each other. However, IMO, they do have a whiff of understanding, because when they try to make up in the 70s it's like: JOHN: No, I do love you and want you in my life always PAUL: Awesome, I don't give a shit about money, let's never discuss it again please But (as we all know), they don't heal completely and when they are hurt and/or scared, they retreat to these original positions: JOHN: Fine then, fuck off out of my life PAUL: Great. Speak to my lawyer In other words, I don't think the Official Narrative is incorrect, exactly. Just incomplete (i.e. strongly believe John wanted Paul to come back in early '70 and ask for another chance, etc), and doesn't address the emotional drivers of their behavior (which to us is the "Real" Story).