#that's a good representation for the mom to have

[0aurelion-sol0]

My Arcane Season 2 criticisms:

Things I actually disliked:

How the Hextech plot turned out, I though it was very badly executed especially in terms of Viktor's evolution through the whole show. Lack of proper explanation about what was actually happening, unnecessary and horribly executed twist at the end, clumsy established rules and dissapointing payoff for anyone involved in this plotline. Final battle was cool and I like the Commune's designs but dear god, was this storyline confusing...

Ekko's community plus the tree's state at the end of the show. You really couldn't put a 15 seconds shot of the community being well and tree being ok ?! Seriously I know you had to make choices given it's animation but come on now... It was like one of the main driving points to stop Hextech for him & one of the safe haven of Zaun & Piltover and it's completely shoved to the side but no, we have to see minutes of Loris, Steb and Sky being there just being a representation of our characters' inner conflicts as if them doing it and/or saying it out loud wasn't enough...

Ekko convincing Jinx to not kill herself by telling her what he experienced, Jinx rallying the undercity to protect Piltover & Zaun from Noxus & Viktor and a proper conclusion to Sevika's story regarding all of this. WHAT THE HELL ?! We needed to see this, this is so important & it's completely ignored. IN WHAT world, did anyone think cutting this was a good idea ?! We needed to get a proper closure & development about Ekko & Jinx's relationship which was already thin to begin with. We needed to see Sevika affirm what she truly thought about Jinx and a moment about Isha regarding the two of them even if Sevika wasn't super close to the kid, we needed to see Sevika get to see the Undercity finally rallied together after spending the ENTIRETY of the show trying to do that and see how that whole thing came about for them to fight with Piltover. It is ridiculous to that me that this was cut... It was so important!

Things I didn't necessarily dislike but I have mixed feelings about:

Jayce not getting a single scene with his mom. I know she was there at the end, in the crowd, mourning him but come on, not even one scene with her before the end where she could allow him a form of reflection and comfort before putting his life in danger or after, I don't know... DISSAPEARING FOR WEEKS IF NOT MONTHS! I know you could interpret it as Jayce being so lost on his mission that he forgets about her and her importance but she was one of the reasons they ended up in Piltover in the first place. It's of course not as vital to the story but it could have provided some breathing in this fast-paced season.

Vi's character arc this season. While there are some part that I like, I feel like it wasn't explored as deeply & as fully as it could have been. The foundations are there but aspects like her relationship with Vander, violence and Zaun could have been pushed far more than they were in this season.

Caitlyn's arc and how the most important bit happened off-screen, again, just like with Vi, the parts it would have been better to see or being more developped weren't as much as they could've been. I am not of the conclusion she didn't face any consequences or was let go by the narrative of the things she did. But her coming to terms with her actions happened mostly off-screen and that is a shame because it was one of the more interesting parts of Season 2.

Singed's characterization. Now I understand why he was developed the way he is, in terms of what he represents for Caitlyn and for the show, but I don't think it was as compelling to me to have him be yet another parallel for the themes of the show or being a reminder of them was completely necessary for me. We got it the other times, I understand why, it had it's purpose; I just prefer how evil Singed was in the original lore & the story he had back then. I understand humanizing antagonists & reinforcing the theme of your story but sometimes it's nice having an element that's a bit of an outlier and explore other themes to give some variety to the story.

[genderqueerdykes]

"entire online queer community collectively forgot, or rather pretends that queer allies don't exist"

funny thing was when I was in high school in the mid-2000s, the "A" in LGBTQIA was just as often assigned to "allies" as asexuals. the obvious reason being that if you didn't yet want to label yourself in a homophobic society, 'ally' was an easy way to say that you're here to be supportive without outing anything about yourself

yeah! that's exactly it!

i think we've lost the spirit of that entirely. we should not have to force people to out anything about themselves whatsoever. i don't like that. i feel like that goes against what we stand for. i don't feel like any queer space should force its participants to out themselves. i don't really care if people who are cishet or whatever read my blog and genuinely learn and take the time to understand things better. that's a good thing.

it was kinda cool that the A could mean multiple things, it didn't force people to disclose exactly what. now obviously we need asexual, aromantic, agender and other aspec representation, and my college's pride group had that, mostly because i was talking about it to the president who was a childhood friend of mine, but i think we just straight up forgot that it really can stand for ally. like. i don't like that people don't want to acknowledge that there are a lot of cishet people out there who genuinely like trans partners and people and aren't judgment or weird or gross about it. there genuinely are cishet people who like it, or don't care in the sense that it doesn't bother them, but they are invested if you talk about it.

we have to stop assuming the worst. i think that's really what it comes down to.

it's a good thing if someone's 70 year old cishet grandpa comes to the pride meeting and sees that gays, lesbians, mspec people, trans people, intersex people, and other queers are just normal people. it's a good thing if the lesbian brings their supportive mom and dad. it's okay if a gay man brings their supportive mom and sister to their drag performance at the gay bar. it's okay if trans women bring their supportive cishet brothers, dads, sisters and girl friends who can help them pass or stay safe outside of queer spaces. it's okay if trans men bring their best friend who's a cishet guy and is supportive of the community to the trans meetup.

hot take but i also believe that cis gay dads with a lesbian daughter belong in lesbian spaces, too. i believe that cis lesbian moms belong in trans spaces so they can support their trans kids. i believe that cishet parents belong in gay spaces to learn more about and support their gay kids. i believe perisex cishet parents, friends and partners belong in intersex spaces so they can support their loved ones and the community. i believe that cis bi/pan/mspec men & women belong in trans spaces if they're attracted to trans people. i believe that the cishet polyamorous guy who has 4 girlfriends who all love each other gets to come to the meeting. cishet people belong at the aromantic & asexual meetings.

we need to stop assuming things about each other and let us have open discussion. it's not good to try to guess what someone else's identity is just by looking at them. that's profiling. it's just not helping. people are allowed to disclose as much or as little information as they want. asexuals and aromantics don't deserve to be talked over of course, but i feel like we've tried to erase allies in order to lift aspectrum people up and it's not the way to go. we should uplift everyone who supports us!

thanks for stopping by! i appreciate this ask a lot

[sol-em-gemeos]

[anonymouseeverything]

I'm never going to stop thinking about david "I daydream about my mother's death so I'd finally have an explanation as to why I'm like this" ward

[capinejghafa]

One day, someone will realize Inej's dad value in her story... not today, though 😔

[rotisseries]

rori rotisseries reviews from respected critics

[cuteniaarts]

2 hour rough drawing of Ehuang, my precious Green Opal child who I don’t draw nearly enough <3

[midnightconfessions]

I got to watch an advance screening of Polite Society last night and I will be basing my personality on it for the forseeable future. 

that is all

[asinglesock]

unemployment arc update

[skrunksthatwunk]

god goromi really fucked my gender didn't she

[neil-gaiman]

hello neil, my mom and i have loved the show good omens for a few years now, and we recently discovered your tumblr, so we feel we must inform you of something.

when i saw the "do ducks have ears?" bit, i was very happy, but when we saw the second season came with a second mention of ducks, we were both delighted. we named these ducks over a year ago, and in a show full of important representation and themes, it just makes me feel very seen as not only a queer person, but as a person for whom ducks are very important.

these are three of our ducks, hastur, crowley, and aziraphale. we tried to get a picture of them eating peas from a bowl, which they have done, but they were most uncooperative.

here they are actually eating peas.

This was a very necessary post.

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby names

in which spencer comforts you after you wake from a good dream about becoming a mother

fluff! warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader sort of wants to be a mom sort of doesn't, they discuss having a child in the future, talk of pregnancy stuff, I think that's it! a/n: another short sweet fluff piece that is by no means going to get me a pulitzer but is cute nonetheless!! love u!!! let me know if u enjoyed!!

Spencer wasn’t in the room when you fell asleep into an impromptu nap, induced by the pattering rain, the low light of your bedside lamp, the warmth of your favorite throw blanket—but he is when you wake up. Home from work, sprawled on the bed next to you, long legs crossed and as close as he thought he could get without disturbing your slumber. 

“You came home,” you whisper groggily, curling into his side and letting your sleepy eyes flutter shut again. 

He pulls you closer against him, rubbing your arm. “I always do.” A low, affectionate chuckle that buzzes from his chest and dizzies you. “You tired?”

You hum a distant affirmation. Visions of diaphanous pink, of sweet cooing, of a haloed Spencer doused in warm light and smiling down at a some blanket-bundled creature in his arms, still burn behind your eyelids, fading with every passing second. The gentle classical music you’d been playing earlier now blends with the sound of evening rain tapping ceaselessly against the window. Spencer is warm next to you, scent familiar and comforting and only contributing to your drowsiness—but a lingering sort of sadness still claws at your stomach. Emptiness. It bites like a shock of icy water. It’s just a small thing. You feel silly for being upset, but you are upset, and you want to tell him. 

“I had weird dreams.”

Spencer offers a hum of his own (perhaps a habit you’d picked up from him) and you open your eyes, watching him watch the rain. The stark angle of his jaw, the sweet slope of his nose. Any baby he had a hand in creating would be absolutely cherubic. “You know, Carl Jung said dreams are hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”

You fiddle with the knit of his sweater, and he covers your hand with his own, looking back down at you, deep eyes full of easy contentment. Like as long as you’re together, he can’t imagine a thing to be worried about. 

“Wait—the dreams are the door? Where does the door go?”

His brows pinch slightly as he recalls what is no doubt an exact quotation. 

“Uh—he said they led to a primeval cosmic night, that is soul long before there was conscious ego, and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”

You frown, sleepy head aching as you twist your brain into knots trying to decode the ornate language. “Was he the weird incest-y one?”

Spencer chuckles again. “Nope. That was Freud. Jung was essentially saying that there is something primal and instinctual about our dreams. He said they were our way of accessing the unconscious, which can process things the conscious psyche can’t, and our consciousness was a ship on the great sea of unconsciousness.”

“You’re losing me, Dr. Reid.”

The corner of his mouth flickers up. 

“He just meant they offered us an unbiased look at our lives. Our desires, our needs, unburdened by conscious ego.”

Our desires. Our needs. 

You chew your lip. 

“What does dreaming about having a baby mean?”

You say it because Spencer is your closest friend as well as your partner and you trust him completely with every thought in your head—but the way his hand pauses on your arm makes you nervous. 

He takes a moment to dissect your answer, digging for a hidden meaning like a precious gem, and then, once he decides there are no landmines, proceeds cautiously. 

“Well… some people say that a baby in your dream is a representation of you. It could indicate a desire to nurture, or a need to be nurtured.” Again you make a noise of vague acknowledgement. His hand starts back up again on your arm, and he delves gently deeper. “Why? Did you dream about having a baby?”

For a moment, you can only nod. Suddenly you’re choked up, releasing an exhaled, “Yeah,” as tears cloud your vision. He gives you a moment, just holding you as you try to find the words to continue. “It felt really real. I mean—I think I knew it wasn’t, but I was so happy that I didn’t care. I—she—” You laugh tearfully. “I’m being ridiculous, I know, I just… I miss her. Is that crazy?”

“That’s not crazy,” he says quietly. A stretch of silence follows, and the brief deluge of tears fades to trickling stop. Spencer is probably used to you enough so that he’s not surprised when you huff dramatically, trying to dispel your melancholia with a hefty dose of drama. 

“I wanna have a baby!”

Your boyfriend releases a surprised laugh as you bury your head against his chest, but it only takes him half a second to root his hand in your hair and hold you there. 

“Because of your dream?”

“Yes!” You sniffle into his sweater. “She was so perfect, ’nd sweet. I wanna have a baby so much.”

“With who?”

You look up at him tearfully and visibly frustrated. His eyes betray only fondness. “You, Spencer! Who else?”

“No one! No one else.”

You collapse again, satisfied with his answer. 

“You were such a good dad. It was—oh my god, you were so happy. You were holding her, and smiling at her, and—can we please have a baby?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, half chuckle, voice tinged with pity. His hand sweeps over and over your hair in a soothing pattern. 

You pout, hiding even further away against him. “That’s not an answer.”

“We can’t have a baby right this second, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“Why not?”

He hums, pretending to consider the question, hand still carding gently through your locks, detangling. 

“You’re not pregnant, for one thing.”

“I might be.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could be.”

He angles your head up, smiling. Those warm brown eyes of his are full to the brim with sparkly affection. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“No, I’m saying, we could have a baby.”

The curve of his mouth lessens though doesn’t entirely dissipate, and the subtle lines next to his eyes soften as he regards you. There are a thousand reasons you shouldn’t have a baby right now, but Spencer knows you know that, and it’s still not what you want to hear right this second. 

“We could.”

He’s not being serious, but your heart flutters anyway. 

“Really?”

“Sure. Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Spencer. I’m not joking. You’re not taking me seriously.”

Spencer pulls you closer, and though you’re mildly annoyed, you allow it with a huff. 

“I am taking you seriously. Like the plague.”

“I know you want kids.”

“I do.”

“We can have kids.”

“Angel. We have time. I believe that you want a baby, and I’m overjoyed that you want one with me. And you know we’d need more time to talk about it.”

Of course, you probably will change your mind tomorrow, and again the next day, and Spencer will love you then and every time you change your mind thereafter. 

“Do you love me?” You ask softly, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand and not looking at him. Just to make sure. His eyes are liquid adoration on you. 

“More than anything in the whole world.” And maybe, you think, you’re okay with keeping it that way. For just a bit longer, at least. Spencer squeezes your arm. “I do think you’ll get to meet her again one day. I’ll get to meet her.”

You smile to yourself, imagining your little dreamy baby girl back in your arms. “One day.”

He kisses the top of your head. 

“Did we name her in your dream?”

“Elizabeth. But only because in my dream your mom’s name was Elizabeth, for some reason? I don’t… I can’t explain that.”

“Hm... I love my mom, but I don't know if I'd want to name my baby Diana. Feels too prophetic.”

“Hold on, I have like, a hundred baby name ideas. Can you hand me my phone? I’m gonna tell you all of them. First and middle name combinations.”

Spencer reaches for your phone on the side table. “Boy and girl?”

You scoff, settling into the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder, so he can see your phone screen. 

“We’re not having a boy, Spencer.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You smile and tangle your legs with his, searching through your notes app with your non-dominant hand for your list of ridiculous baby names. 

“I can’t believe you would even suggest that. You're obviously going to be a girl dad.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so glad I'm not pregnant because you’re clearly not ready. You have a lot to learn. Okay, how does Artemisia Valencia October Reid sound to you?”

You’re lucky he loves you so much.

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

Self-indulgent again, also very much a vent. For the girlies who don't wanna be moms, not even in fictional settings, who kinda need some representation. Tw: angst with (almost) no comfort and self-deprecation.

You don't want kids.

You have nothing against them, really. You even like most children, think they're cute and all, but it's just not for you. You have never liked baby dolls, nor have you ever dreamed of motherhood; never had that tug of maternal instinct that most women your age felt.

And for a long time, you felt wrong. It was yet another broken part of you that you couldn't possibly fix, and that alienated you from your peers. You still feel wrong. An annoying, loud part of you still thinks you're broken, but what can you do?

You scroll through your instagram feed, seeing post after post of old classmates either with a big, round belly or with a little bundle in the arms, all bright smiles and hands entertwined and hugs.

And you think maybe you ARE doing things wrong. Maybe you were supposed to do that too. Try to conform to what everyone apparently thinks you should do, push through and endure something you know you weren't built for – maybe it'd fill the hole inside your gut, who knows?

Then you hear a baby cry – a soldier's wife was visiting with their kid – and you lose your breath, quickly approaching a meltdown as you feel your hackles raise despite how much you think it's wrong to feel this way.

You lock yourself into the nearest room.

Truly, you don't mind children. In fact, you respect them so much you know they deserve someone who has maternal instincts, and you know that you're not that someone. Not when you fucking derail at the sound of a kid crying.

"What's wrong, love?" Your eyes focus and you finally realize that you had entered Price's office without realizing. Probably your subconscious seeking the comfort of his presence.

"... Nothing." You lie, breathing deeply and waddling your way to one of his couches. The other men observe your movements with the some focus of a scientist finding a jumpy animal in the wild. Simon gets up to give you his seat on the couch.

"Yer pale as a sheet, lass. What happened? Saw a bug on yer way here?" Soap says playfully, as he scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and anchoring you back to reality.

You huff out a sad, tired laugh and shake your head. You feel the familiar pressure build up behind your eyes and your throat constricts, but you close your eyes and keep breathing deeply, willing the tears away.

A few moments pass of you trying to keep your emotions at bay while the men silently watch you, patiently waiting for you to open up in your terms.

"Do you think I'm broken?" You finally whisper and Ghost is kneeling right beside your seat in the blink of an eye, a strong hand squeezing your knee.

"Why would we ever think that, love?" Kyle asks as he sits on the ground and swiftly takes off your shoes, massaging your feet.

You clear your throat, trying to ground yourself through the feeling of Soap, Ghost and Gaz touching you, all while Price stands to the side. The comforting woodsy scent of their colognes envelops you like a cocoon, but it doesn't stop you from thinking.

It is during moments like this that you can feel your heart breaking – remembering how much you ended up loving them and how much you don't deserve them at the same time.

Your mind flashes back to late nights at some hole-in-the-wall bar, all four of them in different stages of drunkenness, talking about distant dreams they have – a family. Kids running through the house. You'd usually smile and keep quiet, knowing you were drunk as well; at the danger of making some self-deprecating comment you were sure they wouldn't appreciate.

It's good, how things have to be nipped at the bud, you think. It's best to have your fantasies ruined than indulge in them and then hurt yourself later on.

You look at Johnny, a sorrowful smile on your face as he raised his eyebrows in concern. He'll be a great father, you're sure of it. All of them will. It's just sad that you will never be the one to fulfill their fatherhood dreams. You can't disrespect their dreams out of selfishness. You can't disrespect a child just because you were too greedy to breath the same air as those men.

Your breathing slows down, emptiness burrowing its roots deep inside the painful muscles of your heart and your gut.

If you're going to be miserable either way, you'd always choose the option in which you would never drag any of them down with you.

"Forget I said anything." You squeeze Simon's hand, still firmly clutching your thigh. "I'm just having a bad day. I'll feel better soon."

You lean forward, gently removing Kyle's hands from your feet, and put your shoes back on. You get up, still feeling like there's a scream stuck in your throat – something fierce inside of you that begs to be loved without needing to create life; something desperate, that wonders if anyone would want to stay with you without a child to tie them down.

Oh god, are you going to die alone?

You clear your throat as you get up before images of the 141 with other women begin flooding your mind. That would have to wait till nighttime. You could cry freely then.

You force a tight-lipped smile and nod your head at Price. He subtly narrows his eyes.

"Sorry I barged through your door with my nonsense, Captain. I'll be taking my leave now."

Price crosses his arms and watches you leave, steps slow and deliberate as if you were hanging by the thinnest thread. He's very aware of the eyes of his men boring through his head, egging him on to do something, say something. Isn't he the Captain, after all?

"Love." Price calls out for you as you open the door. You look at him with watery eyes and reddened lips. No matter how much you tried to hide how awful you felt, you always wore your emotions on your expressions.

"You're not broken." He murmurs and your eyebrows twitch. "No matter what hurts you. We would never think you're broken."

You bite your tongue, holding back any bitter protest of his words. Instead, you smile.

"Thanks, Cap. I do hope so." You say as you step outside and close the door before any of them could try to retort. You can't discuss anything right now. Not when your mind is yelling silently, desperately begging for acceptance of you as you are.

Most times, you just hate yourself too much and too loudly to be able to notice how they would never care about the choices you have made for yourself and your life, as long as you could stay inside their arms; as long as you could be their girl.

[covenofagatha]

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 2)

More flirting from Agatha the morning after and then the much anticipated Halloween party starts...

Word count: 2500

Warnings: allusions to smut

The sunlight streaming in through the windows wakes you up and you stretch with a groan. It takes a few seconds for you to get your bearings and heat floods your face at the memory of Agatha last night. 

You really need to get a hold of yourself. 

You brush your teeth and head downstairs. The door to Nicky’s room is shut, which doesn’t surprise you. You cannot sleep past eight, meanwhile, he can easily sleep until noon if he isn’t interrupted. 

Agatha is down in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cooks eggs on the stove. 

“Good morning,” you say quietly so you don’t startle her. She turns around, eyes raking up and down your body, still clad in the nightie she gave you last night. The older woman’s hair is messy and she wears a black robe with flower designs, still managing to look hot as fuck. The robe has a low V-neck and you have to make an active effort not to stare.

“Hey, sweetheart. My clothes look good on you,” she says with a smirk. You have to bite back a comment about how they’d look even better on her floor. “How’d you sleep?” 

She turns back to the stove, but has her head tilted toward you so you can tell she’s still listening. 

“I slept great,” you answer honestly. “The bed is so comfortable I might just move in.” 

She gives you a heated glance. “I’d be more than okay with that.” 

You swallow hard. “Thanks for having me over for dinner and for letting me spend the night. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, dear. You’re always welcome,” she says warmly. “What time do you have to leave for work?”

You glance at the clock. Your shift starts at 9:30 am and it’s currently 8:15. It’s a twenty minute drive from their house. “Around 9 or so.” 

She hums and scoops some eggs onto a plate and hands it to you. They’re scrambled, your favorite. She retrieves a fork and gives that to you as well, your hands slightly brushing. 

“Thank you so much,” you say and sit on a stool at the island so you can watch her. She makes herself a plate and stands on the other side by the sink so you’re facing each other. 

“So, you’re dressing up as a witch for Halloween,” she starts. You blink, and then recall that you had mentioned that last night. “Why a witch?”

“I don’t know. I’m really into witchcraft and all that, plus they’re a staple of Halloween. I just think their history is really fascinating and there’s all different kinds of representation of witches in the media. I also just like the costumes,” you hastily add, not wanting to bore her with your nerdy thoughts. But Agatha is hanging on to every word, nodding in agreement.

“I’m glad Nicky has a friend as smart as you. And I’m sure you’ll look great in a witch’s costume,” she says with a wink. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” She looks positively delighted that you’re playing along and internally you are proud of yourself. If she’s going to flirt with you, maybe you can have some fun back. “Are you dressing up for your party?”

She laughs at that. “Dear, I think I’m a little too old for that. No one wants to see a forty-five year old woman dressed as Snow White.” 

You bite your lip. It’s got to be a crime to be this turned on by how old she is. “Maybe not a princess. You could be a witch. Or maybe a cowboy or something.” Images of her wearing a slutty Halloween costume flitter across your mind and you work hard to push them out. 

“Maybe you can pick me something out. Now eat your eggs before they get cold.”

You obey. You’d do anything she says, you think. She also picks up her fork and is bringing the egg to her open mouth (not that you’re staring or anything) when a piece of egg falls off and falls right into the open V of her chest. 

“Whoops,” she says innocently. She cranes her neck to look down and swipe the egg up with her finger and then sucks the finger into her mouth. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

You stammer out an apology, blushing harder than ever, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The last thing you want to do is make her uncomfortable in her own home, but she seems to be enjoying the effect she has on you.

“I don’t mind, dear. It’s always nice to get some attention.”Oh, come on. She has to be flirting with you now. “Ever since Nicky’s father left…” She trails off. 

“I’m sorry,” you say lamely, because you don’t know what else to say. You don’t know the story of what happened and you don’t want to make Agatha feel like she has to talk about it. But if she thinks that no one would pay her attention when she looks like that, she is wrong. 

She gives you a soft smile and then brightens up. “It was for the best. I realized that I wanted something different than he could offer. He was a safe option, but I was tired of that. I wanted something new.” Her eyes burn into you as they travel down to your chest. 

Is she saying what you think she’s saying?

You look down at yourself just to make sure you didn’t accidentally spill anything and you see your nipples poking through the silky material of Agatha’s nightie. Oh. You look back up and she finally tears her eyes away and looks at you. 

“Who’s staring now?” you say before you even have a chance to think about it. Her grin is wolfish and her stare is unapologetic. She shrugs. 

“I’m just admiring how good my clothes look on you. Why don’t you keep it? Any woman who gets the pleasure of seeing you in it is a lucky one,” she says. 

“Oh, I couldn’t–” Is she counting herself lucky? Or is she just being nice?

“I insist.”

“Thank you.” And now you need to get out of here before you explode. You shovel the rest of the eggs into your mouth, stand up, and go to the sink to wash off your plate. 

You’ve just turned the water on when, all of a sudden, her warm body presses against you. Your brain short-circuits and you freeze. Her arm reaches around and shuts the water off and she pries the plate from your hand. 

“Let me,” she whispers right in your ear. You shiver and you turn around. Her face is three inches from yours, her body just a hair away. You can feel her hot breath on your face and you can’t help yourself from looking down at her lips. 

Her tongue darts out and licks her lips and oh god, you are going to kiss her. 

You look back up and meet her hooded blue eyes. Neither of you move, and you’re just about to say fuck it and lean in when you hear a noise from upstairs. 

Nicky. He must be awake. 

Agatha smirks and steps back, putting some space between you and you finally feel like you can breathe. 

“I should probably get going. I think I’ll run by my house and change my clothes,” you tell her, heart going a hundred miles an hour. 

“Good plan,” she says, not taking her eyes off you. “I’ll see you on Halloween.”

You give her a tight smile. “Tell Nicky I’ll see him Monday?” She nods and you quickly leave her house. Once in your car, you run a hand through your hair and inhale and exhale slowly. 

Holy shit. 

***

The next few days pass quickly. Your Halloween costume comes in and you don’t remember it being this tight or short when you ordered it. The black long-sleeve crop top accentuates your breasts and the dark purple miniskirt barely covers your ass. The purple hat is really the only thing that looks like it belongs to a witch. 

You don’t care, though. If anything, you can’t wait to see Agatha’s reaction to it, assuming the looks and the touches and everything else from her last week wasn’t just a fluke. 

A text from Nicky buzzes on your phone, saying that you can come over whenever for the party. It’s supposed to start at 8 pm. It’s an hour and a half before, so you text him back that you’ll get ready and then come over. 

You curl your hair and the black smokey eye makeup makes your eyes pop. You finish off with a cherry red lipstick. You put your costume on, topping it off with a pair of knee high black boots. 

You have to admit, you look hot and your stomach warms at the thought of Agatha seeing you like this. 

You arrive at their house at 7:45. You see no other cars in their driveway, but you figure it’s early and you’re best friends with Nicky anyways, so who cares. 

The doorbell rings and it almost immediately swings open. Nicky stands there, black vest, black-and-red striped pants, a sword hanging from his belt, and a pirate hat on his head. He whistles at you. 

“Damn, you look good,” he says, stepping over so you have room to come in. 

“I’m glad you found a costume in time,” you remark, laughing as his fake sword gets in the way. 

“Mom would’ve had my head on a spike if I didn’t,” he replies solemnly. “Come on, we’re almost done setting up. You can help me spike the punch.”

You follow him into the kitchen and are taken aback by how decorated it is. The lights are dim and it looks like cobwebs are covering the countertops. Fog is rolling in from somewhere. Fake spiders and bones are strategically placed around the kitchen. There’s donut holes decorated to look like eyeballs, the punch is bright green and in a cauldron, there’s candy. 

It’s going to be an awesome party. 

“Nicky, can you grab the tape from the drawer,” Agatha yells from somewhere else, not in the kitchen. Your friend springs into action and leaves you alone in the kitchen. 

You slowly walk around the island, tracing a finger along the cobwebs. You pick up an eyeball-donut and pop it into your mouth. It’s good. You can tell how much thought Agatha and Nicky have put into setting up for the party and you love it. 

“Where did you say it was?” you hear Agatha say, you’re guessing to Nicky, her voice growing louder. You spin around just in time for her to enter the kitchen, stopping in her tracks the moment she sees you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, covering your mouth as you finish chewing on the donut. Her mouth settles into a smirk as her eyes trace you up and down. 

“Quite the getup, sweetheart,” she says in a low voice. 

You blush and then notice what she’s wearing. Maroon leather pants and a long black vest that doesn’t touch in the middle, leaving a strip of skin all the way down from her neck to her wide belt. A headband is wrapped around her head, bunching the hair at the top. 

“Look at you,” you say breathlessly. You want nothing more than to run your tongue down her bare chest and listen to her moan. 

“I decided to dress up after all. Now, would you be a dear and hand me the scissors from the bottom drawer to the left of the fridge?” 

You nod and it’s as you're bending down that you remember how short your skirt is and you realize that Agatha can probably see the lacy purple underwear you’re wearing (just for her). You swear you hear her breath hitch and suddenly you feel her presence right behind you. 

Her warm hand touches your lower back and you fight the urge to gasp. 

“Did you find it?” she murmurs. She leans over you and her hand slides down you, almost reaching your ass. Fuck. 

“Yep!” you almost squeal and jump up. You hand her the scissors and she deliberately puts her hand over yours to grab them. 

There’s no way this is in your head. Agatha is either playing some cruel joke on you, or she actually wants you. 

And you’re praying to god that it’s the second one. 

***

Thirty minutes later, the party is in full-swing. It seems to you that the entire neighborhood must be here. People in costumes fill the kitchen and the surrounding halls and you push through the crowds to find your way back to the punch. You’re not sure what’s all in it, but it’s addicting. Nicky and you had poured an entire bottle of vodka in it, much to Agatha’s chagrin, but almost every partygoer you saw was drinking it. 

You scoop yourself another cup and lean back on the island, slowly sipping it, just watching everybody at the party. An older man dressed as a police officer comes over to you, obviously drunk from the way he’s moving. 

“What’s a pretty young thing doing at this party all alone?” he slurs, the smell of vodka and maybe something else hitting your face. You wince. 

“I’m not alone, I’m about to go find my friend,” you say loudly over the music and stand up straight so you can leave. 

He grabs your wrist. You feel a spike of fear flash through you, but in an instant, you feel a protective arm wrap around your shoulders. You turn your head, figuring it’s Nicky, but instead, it’s his mother. 

“Herb, get out of here,” she says harshly and steers you away. Her arm doesn’t leave your shoulders and her hand has started stroking your bicep. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Thank you for that. He was just a little drunk,” you say, not quite sure why she’s leading you up the stairs. 

“That doesn’t excuse it,” she says, a tight expression on her face. She takes you into her room and motions for you to sit on her bed. She sits next to you. 

You don’t know what’s happening, but you’re in Agatha’s room with Agatha, so you’re not complaining. “Well, luckily I had my knight in shining armor to protect me,” you say, nudging her shoulder with your own. 

She smiles and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. “You look really nice,” she says. “Super witchy.” 

You laugh at that. “I didn’t realize I ordered the slutty witch costume. Must’ve accidentally ordered it a few sizes too small.”

“I’m glad you did,” she flirts, her eyes obviously dropping down to your cleavage. 

“Agatha…” you whisper, not sure where you’re going with it. It’s wrong, you know it’s wrong. She’s your best friend’s mother. She’s twenty-five years older than you. There’s no way she’d want someone this young, this inexperienced. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” she whispers back, looking back up at you. 

Your brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure out what to say. But what can you say?

So you just lean forward and press your lips to hers. 

[kinardsboy]

This has been sitting on my mind a lot lately but it seems extra relevant now with the way Tommy and by extension Lou has been criticized for acting “too gay” in ep 5. And while yes, I will agree Tommy acted slightly different in ep 5, it has absolutely everything to do with Lou’s incredible acting choices to play Tommy differently when he is around people he deems as “safe” which is much better explained in this amazing post here <-

All these complains are doing is just yet again exposing buddies as homophobes who are, at the end of the day. Uncomfortable with real queerness being shown infront of them. Of course we already knew this with how they react to Buck and Tommy kissing and god forbid flirting especially if it has sexual implications like the daddy kink scene.

They can’t possibly fathom their precious uwu baby Buck would be sexual with another man so they spin and twist it however they can to make it out to be, “NO! You see! Tommy started the flirting! Tommy is just an insatiable horny gay man! He only wants sex! Like most of them do!”

Which is again spewing homophobic rhetoric, who wouldve guessed thats what they immediately turn to?

I now have something probably controversial to say but oh well, im going to say it anyway.

A good many of these shippers would be deeply uncomfortable with Buddie actually becoming canon, because they would be nothing like their fanfic. They don’t want to see two men in a relationship, they want to see Eddie in a relationship with the character they project themselves onto.

There are so many examples of this but perhaps the biggest being the way Buck is made out to be the “woman” in the relationship and especially how he is made to be the “mom”

Buck and Tommy’s relationship 1st does not have any children involved so there are no gendered roles to be assigned (even though if there was.. theyd just both be a dad), they are both beefy and the same height, which is what people usually use to decide “top” and “bottom” but again since there is little physical difference between them, they cannot do this, which only adds to their uncomfortableness.

Furthermore, I would go as far to say that Buddie shippers dont actually like Buck.

A while back a shipper posted this analysis of Buddie, that essentially reduces Buck to a dog. A pet. Only to be let out of the bedroom to cook and take care of Chris, otherwise he’s meant only for Eddie’s pleasure.

Which, disgusting. But the thing that stood out most to me was how Tommy was criticized for

letting Buck be himself. For accepting and loving him flaws and all. For not trying to change anything, or “train” the bad out of him

While Eddie was the “trainer” in that scenario, that had to train the bad out of Buck in order for him to be acceptable.

And thats the funny thing isnt it? Buddie shippers have to completely warp and destroy Buck’s character to make him fit their mold of perfect partner for Eddie. They make him out to be this helpless person who can’t even tell Tommy he doesnt want to be called Evan, that needs rescuing from Tommy, that is a “mother figure” to Chris, that his “dream role” would be live in chef and maid for the diaz family..

When none of that is Buck.

Buck is a smart, independent and strong man. He has worked tirelessly on himself to know who he is and what he wants, which right now? Is with Tommy.

Bringing it back to my main point, their complaints of Tommy being more gay and Bucktommy intimacy ultimately just boil down to homophobia plain and simple, seeing real queer representation and not representation that they can specifically twist and cater to themselves through fic, headcanons or gifs, makes them uncomfortable

(could this be why so many of them ignore shows with canon m/m ships for favor of shows with fanon ones that will never actually happen? So they can make these demands for representation then shit on it as soon as they get it because its not fanfic? Its not their fetish specifically catered to them? It actually represents real life queer men who they don’t actually like?)

[byerseason]

some ranting

people do not realize how important the representations are and it’s really pissing me off so much. they act like byler wouldn’t be a representation just because they don’t like the ship.

talking about my own family, they’ve always been homophobic due to religious reasons. i had a friend who was lesbian, and when my mom accidentally heard about that, she forced me to cut ties with her. that was how she was in the past.

we watched st with her multiple times. and whether you accept it or not, the queer characters do make a difference. my mom started to feel empathy towards will. he was always her favorite since s1 but in s4 she wasn’t disgusted by his sexuality or anything. she was in fact feeling sad for him.

these characters give the audience the chance to see what these people go through. to see the harshness of their lives and how they can’t even accept and love themselves, and for what? for the most basic human feeling ever, love.

i was talking about will and how he changed her with my mom and she told me if i ever experience some kind of things or anything i can always talk to her. that wasn’t something my mom from 3 years ago would do.

and now if byler happens, she will see how pure the love can be even if it’s between the same gender. how hard their lives can be. just because you don’t like the ship itself it doesn’t mean it’s not making a difference for good. and we need these representations in mainstream media like stranger things. you know my mom would not sit down and watch heartstopper or any other queer-based show. it’s important to shove it to their faces. and for byler, mike’s point of view is gonna be a perfect representation of internalized homophobia since we don’t have many shows that have that. it’ll perfectly show what people thought was love all along was STILL love but a queer one, which will prove them it’s not any different.