#the reasonings are infuriatingly valid

[eversncenewyork]

oh well

[ayphyx]

Me when someone makes a sweeping statement that i don’t necessarily disagree with but the actual situation is much more nuanced and the statement only applied to certain situations so i cant wholeheartedly endorse or agree with it

[peachsayshi]

Hey Peach! How are you?

I want to request number 64 (Unexpected kisses that get all hot and heavy) with geto suguru please and thank you 🌸💓

➳  minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

⥽ notes: hello, sweets! thank you so much for sending over this request. I'm sorry it took me some time to write out but I do hope you enjoy this little scenario between geto x reader! I hope you are doing well! tags: non-curse au; geto x reader are "rivals". a little angsty and steamy.

"why do you hate me?" suguru asks, but he's standing far too close to your liking. his pretty boy smile a glow in the shadows, his body closing in as he takes another step forward.

you stutter when you breathe, your chest rising and falling. you place one hand against his heart, feeling it beat as you halt his movements. your eyes shift to the window behind you, watching the rain shower underneath the thunderous applause from clouds above.

there is truly no escaping. a part of you wishing you had left with your group in the morning as intended. but now you're stuck here all by yourself with suguru. with no place to go, and no light to guide you out.

"I don't hate you," you say through gritted teeth, irritation igniting in the depths of your core. you swallow the uncomfortable knot in your throat.

it's a shame that you can't get along with suguru. it's not like you haven't tried, but for whatever reason that man manages to get under your skin in ways you can't even explain. you don't know if it's his infuriating attention to detail, or the fact that he knows what is the right thing to say to send you over the edge.

"you do," he replies, making you catch your breath because he actually sounds disappointed.

two hands come to both sides of your face, his palms pressing against the wall as he looks down at you. a crackle of lighting shatters the sky, illuminating the serious expression on his infuriatingly handsome features.

how did you both end up here after being in a heated argument only a few minutes ago?

"well, you don't like me either," you insist, lifting your head high and turning your chin up proudly.

he taps his thumb against the wall, contemplative. a twitch in his jaw as he takes in your words.

"I never said I didn't like you-"

"of course you did," you bite back, stubborn to believe that these words are true because why else do you both keep getting off on the wrong foot.

"when?"

your brain filters through every memory, every conversation, every exchange to recall any ounce of evidence to validate your statement.

suguru dips his head down, your hand squeezing the fabric of his shirt. so tight your knuckles turn white, and you're ready to push him away. but your spine tingles when you feel him lightly graze his lips over yours, his breath fanning your skin.

"when?" he repeats.

your mind spins, your heart races. you find yourself easing your grip, while Suguru's hand meets your waist.

he must be teasing you, you think. playing a dirty joke. but before you can fight back, he leans in for a kiss, pressing his mouth firmly against yours.

the gesture is soft and kind. so sweet it's like you're eating a spoonful of sugar. he pecks your mouth once, pulls away to give you a second, before returning for another kiss.

waiting, hoping, you'll invite him for more.

and when you do he slides his tongue hungrily, one hand dropping to the curve of your shoulder while the other reaches for your thigh to hook your leg over his hip, keeping you pinned up against the wall.

you rock your hips against him, desperate for friction. and when he returns the gesture it only makes you moan. an explosion erupts from within - engulfing you with a desire that's foreign to your being. there's a clash of lips, teeth and tongue - nips and kisses that make the space between your legs pulse. your hand grips onto his hair, the other curling around his neck.

you don't even want to breathe. you want to keep fighting. keep arguing. and this new form of communication works out nicely for you, you think.

but there's a flicker above, warm light colliding against the cool bolts from the lightning outside. the power returns abruptly, shocking you and suguru when you both stop kissing to stare up at the ceiling.

you're both panting, limbs linked as you remain intertwined in complications that you don't have the time to sift through at the moment.

suguru returns to look at you, licking his lips to taste you once more. he eases his hold, helps readjust your posture as he takes a small step back. his gaze never leaves yours, confusion boiling in his irises. you part your lips to say his name, but instead he cups your cheeks with both palms and leaves one more innocent kiss in his wake.

you are stunned when he drops his hands, a tiny grin a sign of relief.

he hums, "maybe, you don't hate me either..."

your heart is feverish watching him walk away, and for the first time in your life, he manages to leave you speechless.

requests for these prompts are closed.

[httpsdana]

Promt 6 where kenan tries to make his friend reader jealous by getting a girlfriend and hanging out with her when he is with reader until reader actually finds someone who she thinks he cares for her. Kenan sees her with the guy and confesses it to her

What Could've Been~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

6-“Maybe if I had told you how I felt sooner, none of this would’ve happened,”

Kenan wasn’t sure when it started—the subtle pang of jealousy whenever y/n mentioned hanging out with other guys or the way his heart raced when she laughed a little too much at someone else’s joke. But instead of admitting his feelings, he made a mistake.

He got a girlfriend.

It wasn’t serious. She was sweet, pretty even, but she wasn’t her. He told himself it was just a way to get over y/n or maybe to test if she cared about him the same way. So, he brought her everywhere. To game nights, parties, even casual coffee runs where y/n used to have him all to herself.

y/n noticed, of course. She wasn’t blind. And with each visit, each laugh he directed at her, something in her cracked.

“Kenan, does she have to be here every time?” she asked one evening when she'd invited him to hang out, hoping for just a little of the old normalcy.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he replied casually, leaning back in his chair like it didn’t matter. “What’s the big deal?”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Forget it. Do what you want.”

He should’ve stopped. The pain in her voice wasn’t lost on him, but his pride wouldn’t let him admit it. Maybe he thought if he kept this up, she'd eventually say something. But the day she walked into the party with another guy by her side, laughing and holding his arm, Kenan realized he’d gone too far.

Mateo. That was his name.

Kenan hated him immediately, though he couldn’t find a valid reason why. Mateo was polite, funny, and, most infuriatingly, he made y/n happy. Kenan watched them from across the room, laughing like she hadn’t in weeks, and something ugly clawed at his chest.

Later, when he found her alone in the kitchen grabbing drinks, he cornered her.

“So,” he said, leaning against the counter, “Mateo, huh?”

y/n glanced at him, her smile fading. “Yeah. He’s great.”

“He seems... fine,” Kenan said, his voice tight. “But you don’t really like him, do you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just that he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Maybe he’s not. But at least he treats me like I’m important,” she shot back, slamming the fridge shut. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

That stung. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, stepping closer.

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You parade your girlfriend around like you’re trying to prove something. Do you have any idea how humiliating that’s been for me? Watching you act like I don’t matter anymore?”

“You think I don’t care about you?” he snapped, his frustration bubbling over.

“Do you?” she countered, her voice trembling. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

The silence was deafening, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Kenan sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe if I had told you how I felt sooner, none of this would’ve happened,” he muttered, his voice breaking.

y/n froze, staring at him with wide eyes. “What did you just say?”

“I’m in love with you,” he admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. But I was scared, okay? Scared you wouldn’t feel the same. So, I screwed everything up.”

Her lips parted in shock, and then anger flashed in her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?” he asked, taken aback.

“You say you love me, but instead of telling me, you decided to get a girlfriend and rub it in my face?” she said, her voice rising. “Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Kenan? How many nights I spent wondering why I wasn’t enough for you?”

“I thought—” he began, but she cut him off.

“You thought what? That I’d magically figure it out while you flirted with someone else right in front of me?” she shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You’re such a coward.”

The word hit him like a slap. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I am. But I swear, I never meant to hurt you.”

y/n looked away, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if I can just forget all of this, Kenan. You broke my heart.”

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life fixing it if you let me,” he said, stepping closer but not daring to touch her just yet. “Please. I love you. Only you.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, finally, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain and something else—hope.

“You have a lot to make up for,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’ll do whatever it takes.”

When he reached for her hand, she didn’t pull away. But when he leaned down to kiss her, she pulled away gently.

"break up with your girlfriend first. she doesn't deserve this" y/n murmured, making Kenan smile at her thoughtfulness

It wasn’t perfect, not yet. But it was a start.

[hadesoftheladies]

queer theory is actually a nightmarish frankensteinian creation of postmodernism, and post-modernists philosophers have frequently and explicitly been pro-pedophilia, because this is a logical consequence of what post-modernism says is true: there is no (epistemic) certainty or stable meaning.

when my conservative parents tell me they basically associate "lgbtq" with "maps" and pedophilia, they have reason to do so, given how "queer culture" is fundamentally a creation of post-modernist values, and post-modernist estimations of sexuality. everything is fluid, no binary exists, no meaning is fixed, so there are no defining lines, which means lines cannot actually be crossed. homosexuals can be bisexual, man and woman are interchangeable meaningless terms, and attraction to children is just one of the many ways sexual fluidity is expressed in humans, a benign and normal thing that should be released from modernist moralistic confines

that is queer philosophy, and it is actual queer culture. so not only are LGB folk being told they should celebrate the reclamation of an awful slur that explicitly others them as "perverted" and "strange", but now they are told to embrace queer culture (which means queer identity and philosophy) which not only declares their reality as abnormal and unreal (same-sex attraction is myth, since there is no such thing as sex and attraction is fluid), but also defines them explicitly with sexual perversions like pedophilia and bdsm: which IS EXACTLY WHAT HOMOPHOBES BELIEVE ABOUT THEM.

when queer culture is predicated on subjective feelings of identity needing to be validated, celebrated and "set free" from modernist (read definable, material and epistemological) structures, then the distaste for MAPs from queer folk doesn't mean anything, because even if MAPs are publicly rejected by queer culture, they are embraced and validated by queer theory and post-modernist philosophy.

what is doubly baffling to me is how the lgbtq+ community has tainted a movement for gay rights, you know, people who are being killed and ostracized for being same-sex attracted. not only nullifying their experiences and struggle in being same-sex attracted, not only associating their neutral, normal orientations with perversions and kinks, making something neutral political . . .

but they have also actively decentered a movement for homosexuals and bisexuals in order to accommodate identities that have NOTHING to do with that struggle or fight. intersex conditions, gender dysphoria, and asexuality have nothing to do with the oppression LGBs have faced for their sexual orientation and gender nonconformity, their culture of genderlessness. the idea that men and women can wear and present however they want, love and be attracted to the same sex, without it altering their material status.

EVEN MORE INFURIATINGLY, queer politics has offered almost ZERO challenges to patriarchy. by throwing out definitions, throwing out distinctions, it has relegated the essence of oppression to an individualistic, liberal fantasy that is powerless to change the system, and so can only grant us "spicy" patriarchy. dominance and submission, patriarchal inventions, are now cool kinks that every couple should try. gender is now open access (but still necessary), so men can wear heels and still call women slurs and violently harass them. transmen can go by he/him and still be refused abortion access! gay people are gender fetishists, not sinners. nothing has structurally changed, it's just we have cool names now! :)

so now LGB and women all over the fucking world are relegated to this homophobic misogynistic hell whether we turn to the left or right, and when we speak up about it, conservative homophobes and misogynists confuse us with liberal perverts, and liberal homophobes and misogynists conflate us with conservative sadists.

the structure doesn't change. there is no actual progress. like, same-sex right and women's movements all over the world have suffered for this. because white liberal westerners wanted to play around with words and have that count as activism.

i fucking hate queer theory and politics. i fucking hate how rich western whites shit on every human rights movement while capitalizing on them.

[flower-boi16]

I would like to ask what your opinion is on MDHWrites's blog, or some of his most comprehensive takes criticizing the show at large, for he's covered a lot of ground. What is your regard for his opinions, if you have seen it.

The second I saw this ask pop up in my inbox my thought was "should I even answer this?". On one hand, I would like to express my opinions on Writes' TOH takes since I have er...strong feelings about some of them, but on the other hand part of me still feels a bit iffy about it.

For my 200+ followers who don't know who tf this anon is talking about; MDHWrites is a tumblr user who makes a heavy amount of posts critisizing TOH, he's kind of the most well-known TOH critic on this site, at least in the TOH critical commuinity (and yes, TOH has a critical commuinity).

I remember once randomly stumbling across Writes' blog when I was new to tumblr and first discovered that critical tags were a thing and I started reading some of his posts. I don't remember exactly what all the posts I read said but I do vaguely remember some of the points Writes' made in the posts.

This was at a time where I kinda just accepted critisicm of things I liked rather than actually thinking about the validetly of the takes, and since Writes' posts sounded proffesional enough (and because I went on the toh critical tag and watched videos critisizing the show WAY too much) I think I kinda just forgot why I liked the show in the first place...? I know that sounds weird but I first watched TOH when I was 13 (I'm 14 now) and my analysis skills were still developing at the time.

A couple of months later after I rewatched The Owl House and fell back in love with the show leading me to grow an attatchment to it that was stronger than ever before I thought back to Writes' posts and decided to revist his blog and read a handful of posts out of curiosity to see what his points were. And...I thought going in that there might be some good points about the show but...I can't really say I agree with any of his takes.

While I don't Writes' TOH takes are Lily Orchard levels of infuriatingly media illiterate, and Writes' doesn't look like a bad person...I don't think his TOH takes are that good. They sounded professional at first but everytime I think about them I notice more holes. That's all I'm going to say. I don't want to cover Writes' TOH takes in detail because I know some might alert him of this post, he'll see it and I'll end up starting an argument I don't really want that.

I guess I'll just say that I think his comments about the understood scene in the posts I read feel like he completely missed the point of it. The scene is meant to be a moment of realization for Luz of what she truely wanted, it's not intended to be a "character finish" and just because she realized what ultimately wanted doesn't mean that her self-loathing and guilt of helping Belos is just going to go away.

He even goes as far as to say it doesn't matter to Luz as a character in his post about filler in TOH, where he labled several episodes that are extremely important for outside context as "filler" by the standards of the general commuinity that complains about Amphibia's filler (that post is a whole other can of worms that I don't want to get into) which is just....baffling.

I could also get into things like Writes' takes on Luz's depression arc or his post about Waffles or his post about grom factor (a fan comic by moringmark) but again I don't want to say anymore things here beyond that.

I just don't agree with most of the takes that Writes has on the show. I will say sometimes he makes interesting points like his post about why the boiling isles woulden't work as a setting to a sequel series which does raise some valid points and his analysis of Boscha's "redemption" on my post that he reblogged was fairly interesting (though his reasons for Luz reaching out to the collector not making any sense weren't valid to me) but overall I don't care for his TOH takes.

[lemony-snickers]

Lemony I've cried six times already and it's 1PM, please give me some tender forehead touches with Kakashi <3

You are the absolute best my tomato no matter how much you don't believe me <3

i hope you are feeling a little better today, my dear. sorry for the wait. &lt;3

You've been crying all day.

The weather is miserable, you are miserable, and you see absolutely no reason why remaining swaddled in a thick blanket on your couch for the rest of eternity is not a valid life plan.

If only you could make Kakashi see reason.

"Leave me alone," you whine, tucking your face beneath the blanket and curling up as small as you can against the couch cushions, "I don't want you here."

Kakashi has valiantly attempted to cheer you up all afternoon, ever since he returned home from his latest mission and discovered you swathed in misery in the living room.

"Will you at least eat something if I make it for you?" he asks, and your heart breaks a little at what you know is genuine concern for your well-being.

But it's easy enough to shove that away, to bury it deep. You've had a lot of practice, and it turns out it's easier to push back until he leaves in a discouraged huff so you can continue to wallow in solitude than acept his help.

"Go away, Kakashi. I just want to be alone."

That's not true. Not really. Some small, scared part of you desperately wants anything except to be alone. You want his support. His comfort. That small piece of you stands at the bottom of the ravine in your heart screaming for him to notice, to raise it back to the surface so it can bask in the light.

But the rest of you knows you don't deserve his sympathy. His kindness. His love.

So you tell him you don't want his pity, that he should go home and not waste his energy on you.

"I'm sure you have a report to write," you grumble from the darkness of your makeshift tent, "so go write it."

Silence stretches through the living room for so long you think maybe you've finally won; finally convinced him that trying to cheer you up is not a worthwhile endeavor for the great Copy Ninja.

But then you feel the pressure of his body as he settles on the couch and yanks the blanket off your head.

You wince at the light, and at what you imagine was be the very unpleasant sight of your puffy eyes and terribly disheveled couchhead.

You grab for the blanket to tuck yourself back under it, but Kakashi holds it just out of your reach. When your gaze finally meets his, all you find is concern; no trace of disgust to be seen. His brows crease over his nose, and even with his mask on, you can tell he's frowning.

"I want to help," is all he says as he folds the blanket over your lap, pressing his palms against your thighs like he's trying to remind you that he's here. He's real.

You aren't alone.

It doesn't matter that you've been snide to him since he arrived. He's taken your comments in stride, and now he's stroking his hand affectionately up and down your leg while he waits for your response.

He so good. Too good. And so some stubborn kernel of self-hatred bursts to life in your chest, wholly intent on ruining the wonderful thing right in front of you.

"Get away from me."

Kakashi's brows knit closer together, the first small flames of his irritation glowing in the recesses of his dark eye.

He leans forward and you prepare for a fight--for him to be angry and bristly, to give you a chance to finally scream.

And then suddenly he smiles, tilting his head infuriatingly to the side as his eyes crease at the corners. "No I don't think I will."

You growl, hands bunching into fists against the blanket over your lap. You stare at the fabric as it creases in your grasp. Why doesn't he understand? Why won't he just leave you alone?

"Hey."

Your eyes trail upward, prepared to glare daggers at Kakashi, but before you're able to make your irritation known anew, you feel the soft pressure of his forehead as it settles against yours.

His grey eye bores into you when you do look at him, but his expression is not one of anger or irritation or repulsion.

Despite all your best efforts, the only thing you find there is love.

"It's going to be okay," he says, bringing one hand up to brush over your too-greasy hair. He doesn't even flinch, just keeps his forehead pressed against yours. You can feel his breath as it rushes out his nose, tickling the skin of your face.

Suddenly, all the fight drains out of you. You're too exhausted not to give in, and so you close your eyes and press your forehead against his and just breathe.

You inhale through your nose, finding comfort in Kakashi's familiar scent, grateful for the warmth of his skin against yours, the pressure of one of his hands still on your leg. His fingers trail over your cheek and you almost start crying all over again because he's so gentle and you don't know why.

You lean forward, fingers poised to yank down Kakashi's mask so you can kiss him properly, but he pulls away, out of your reach.

"Uh-uh," he says chidingly, the teasing lilt in his voice making you pout, confused. "You have to get up if you want kisses."

He strides away toward the kitchen without another word and soon, you hear the sounds of cooking. You shake your head, trying to frown--trying to still be miserable and sullen--but it's impossible because Kakashi knows just the right buttons to push to improve your mood, to coax you slowly into a happier state of being.

You huff, tossing aside your blanket and padding your way toward the kitchen barefoot, your morose mood replaced with fierce determination.

You're going to collect that kiss he owes you and a whole lot more.

[writingfanficsfan]

@soprompt had a new prompt that I thought was fun so have a little Tony/Bucky ficlet.

"Can we skip the fight this time, please?"

“Oh. I don’t know, James. This situation seems like a valid reason to have a fight. Because it’s clear you like a fight.” 

“I didn’t start it, Tony. I wasn’t the one doing a wonky spell and trying to bring aliens back to Earth, again. Do you even realize how insane that sounds?” 

“Please. Aliens trying to invade Earth is nothing. Been there, done that.” 

“Then why are you angry?” 

“I can’t believe you’re actually asking me that question right now.” 

“What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and wait?!” 

“You could have let me handle it.” 

“I did let you handle it, just not alone.” 

“And there is the reason why I’m angry and the reason why we are not skipping the fight.” 

“I am not letting you go out there alone, fighting some crazy madman and his army of crazy aliens!” 

“It was barely an army, James!” 

“It was enough.” 

“I’m not the one bleeding right now. What the hell were you thinking?” 

“I was thinking I needed to help you out. Why aren’t you berating Steve? Or Peter? I wasn’t the only one out there.” 

“They didn’t jump in front of me when one of those crazy aliens fired a purple beam at me. Seriously! You didn’t even know what it was! You could have been killed!” 

“But I wasn’t! And neither were you.” 

“This isn’t about me! Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Do we need to contact a therapist?” 

“What? No, of course not. No, Tony. I don’t have a death wish!” 

“Then why the hell-”

“Because I need to protect you! Dammit, Tony! You’re just a human underneath all those nanobots and tech! You could have been killed 10 times over today and I don’t care how mad it makes you, I will always jump in front of whatever it is that tries to hurt you. Damn you, Tony! You have no damn idea, do you?” 

“No damn idea about what? That you’re an idiot and have even less self-preservation instinct than Steve? Yeah, I’m starting to get that.” 

“For a genius, you can be infuriatingly oblivious.”

“I am never- hmmp.” Bucky grabbed Tony, kissing him hard and demanding. Still half high on adrenaline from the fight. He smirked into the kiss when he felt Tony’s body go limp against him, opening his mouth, and letting out a soft moan when their tongues found each other. 

“Do you get it now?” Bucky grunted, his body feeling on fire, cock already throbbing inside his pants as Tony leaned against him, for once lost for words. Bucky smirked, licking his lips and Tony’s brain came back online, trying to push Bucky away but not getting him to move a millimeter. 

“That. That still doesn’t give you a right to throw yourself into danger.” 

“It does. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again, Tony.” 

“You can’t promise me that. I don’t want you to promise me that, James.” 

“I just did and I can. Anyone who tries to harm you will have to go through me. And it’ll be the last thing they ever do.” James swore and a ripple of excitement ran down Tony’s spine, settling at his groin. 

“You- You shouldn’t say stuff like that.” 

“Just telling you the truth, Sweetheart.” Bucky whispered, stroking Tony’s cheek, seeing the disbelief in his eyes. 

“You could have been killed, James.” 

“But I wasn’t.” 

“Not now no. But if you keep doing stupid shit like this-” 

“As if you have never done stupid shit on the battlefield. Besides, if it saves your life then it’s worth it.” Bucky said and Tony swallowed, eyes starting to tear up. Bucky frowned, catching one of the tears falling before pressing their foreheads together, wrapping his arms securely around Tony’s waist. 

“I don’t want you dying for me, James. That’s-”

“I won’t. I’m a super soldier remember? It takes a lot to bring me down. Can we stop fighting now? I really want to kiss you some more.” 

“This discussion isn’t over, Buckaroo. Steve is going to-” Tony gasped when Bucky lifted him off the ground and kissed him. Before Tony could even protest Bucky was carrying him towards the bedroom, distracting Tony with his mouth the whole way there. Okay fine, maybe for right now they could stop fighting about it. 

The end. 

@polizwrites

[gothra]

Please spill more tea on The Boys season 3 shitting the bed, too few people on here only give flack to the finale being shit and not enough on how they screwed up the whole thing.

I want to get my attempt to answer the question out of the way before I continue with my apology for not answering. This reply is going to be bare, and the rest of my post will explain why, but after I get the question out of the way.

I’m going to operate under the belief that, because you’re asking me for more complaining, you already understand the basic issues that I have with Season 3, the biggest being the Toxic Masculinity Bullshit. Not only have I grown to love Hughie Campbell very deeply, but I’ve come to appreciate his flaws and story more. His new arc as some sort of ego monster is so ill-fitting that it’s disrespectful. It’s disrespectful to Hughie, it’s disrespectful to the people who love his character, and it’s disrespectful to Robin, which leads me to The Robin Problem.

Fundamentally, I don’t believe that this issue I have with Hughie’s new arc would have merit if they respected Robin enough as a character to connect her to Hughie’s problems in the third season. They have effectively excluded and ignored Robin from the narrative. It’s one thing for Hughie to fall in love with another woman, it’s another thing to suddenly pretend that his first girlfriend’s violent death wasn’t traumatizing enough to shape his identity and flaws in the later season. Instead, he’s made out to be the guy who wants to reign over his new girlfriend and lock her up in a tower to protect her, ignoring her Ra-Ra Girl Power Rhetoric and stepping on her twinkly toes. He has to grovel to her, let her have her moment, and he doesn’t get any empathy, which means that Robin doesn’t either. She’s not special enough for Hughie to use as a starting point for his trauma. All she is is the catalyst for the entire story, not anything special (sarcasm).

Circling back to Annie, in what I call The Annie Issue. I don’t like Annie as a character. I’ve come to understand that more and more with the 3rd season. I thought she was a bit boring, sure, but I never write off a female character for being boring. I’m never quick to express dislike of female characters, but let me say, as quickly as possible, that I don’t like Annie. I don’t like what she does or what she represents, which seems to be a very infuriatingly middling stance at every important moment. There’s a sort of Midwestern flavor to everything she does, and it’s sour. She gives Hughie grief about wanting to protect her while she simultaneously complains about not feeling safe. She bags him for taking super drugs, and never once acknowledges that the reason he might be taking them is because he’s feeling unsafe, which is a valid thing to feel (I didn’t expect her to do that when the story won’t even do it, but it still sucks). She bites back at Victoria’s attempt to bribe her with a very manufactured millennial white feminist tagline about doing things her own way. Here’s the thing: she doesn’t do anything. There’s a moment in the last few episodes where she says something so stupid that it’s still a source of entertainment for me: she tells the rest of the gang that she’s is going to “save Hughie” (from the V, from Butcher, from Toxic Masculinity, from himself) whether he wants her to or not. The next time we see her, she’s in the car picking Hughie up from a gas station, alone, after Butcher punches him in the face to keep him from taking any more V, effectively saving him. Hughie even comes to that realization in the car, that Butcher saved his life by punching him in the face. Butcher was his savior, Annie was his ride home. She does basically nothing else for Hughie the rest of the season.

As far as the story goes, she’s useless as anything other than a narrative pull for Hughie to return to his former self and shut up about his personal trauma. She exists only to make Hughie look cool for dating her, and I’m bored of it and I’m bored of her. I’m tired of the neo-liberal gymnastics S3 was doing. I found her point of view pathetic and inefficient and I found the attempts of the writing to discredit Butcher’s successful work in her favor to be ridiculous. The guy is a piece of shit. He’s horrible. But he gets shit done. That’s the whole point of the story. Sometimes bad people have to do bad things to make good things happen. Annie just wants to be a good girl all the time, and I don’t like that her good girl status is what the writing wants us to prefer. I’m not stupid enough to fall for it.

The rest of it is a handful of related things that I haven’t thought as hard about. I don’t like Soldier Boy, I think that his presence really made the fandom even more unbearable on every front. It brought a bunch of Jensen stannies into the fold, and Soldier Boy was all they cared about, to the point where their engagement drowned out content about other characters. And the way the men immediately did a Patrick Bateman and began to woobify and lust after him. That, combined with the fact that The Deep still isn’t dead like he should be, further exacerbated my frustration with the way they chose to progress with Hughie’s character. So Hughie has to be a lesson about toxic masculinity to a fandom that inherently revels in toxic masculinity (to the point where they had to be asked to stop harassing Erin about her cosmetic surgery) and clings to one of the most toxic characters ever to appear in the show, a show that keeps a rapist around as comedic relief? It’s patently unfair.

Anyway, that’s the best that I could do. I’m not good at being broad, so if there’s something specific you’d still like to know, feel free to come back and ask about it. I would 100% be fine if you brought up stuff in the comments or reblogged with whatever you want to talk about. I think I would be able to give you that tea you want on smaller scales. That being said, I have something else to say.

(I wrote the following part before I wrote the part above)

I’ve thought about this ask every day since you sent it. If you thought that I wasn’t answering it because I forgot, and that I forgot because I was on a tumblr hiatus, I want you to know that I was on a tumblr hiatus BECAUSE I didn’t want to do anything else until I could muster up a reply to this ask because I respected it so much. I have what is probably autism, and that means that I have a very strong attachment to tasks and projects. I don’t like to quit or abandon things, so I sat with this ask in my inbox for about 4 months. I wanted to do it justice and type up an essay, and really lash out at the writing like I’d done before, but I think two things were wrong with that desire: one, I’ve never conjured up a long form essay for the sake of media review before, so the task is a huge, exhausting, foreign undertaking and two, the ask came at the wrong time.

Now, that’s not an indictment on you or the question. It just came at an inconvenient time, because immediately before you asked it, I had already worn myself out discussing the flaws of Season 3 with other people. I have a bit of a battery when it comes to these things (that’s the best comparison I can make right now, I’m kind of tired) because I get so worked up and passionate about what I’m arguing about, that when I’m finished making the argument, I often get worn out and can immediately forget the argument or the focus of my frustration in the first place. It can take a long time to recharge that battery, and I still haven’t recharged it. It’s not that I’m not longer frustrated with Season 3, it’s that, before you even sent the ask, I ranted so thoroughly that I essentially burnt myself out. I essentially ranted the thoughts out of my brain.

But I wanted to answer the ask. I wanted to answer it so badly, that I just avoided tumblr altogether, because I didn’t want you to see my internet presence and think I was ignoring you. I even stopped playing TS4 because I knew I’d end up on tumblr, and you might see it and feel neglected. None of that is your fault, of course. That’s just me, and I’m apologizing now. I’m so sorry I left you hanging for so long.

I set aside a document to jot down the thoughts whenever they came to me, but I didn’t get much. If you’d like, I can definitely send you the outline and the bits and pieces that I had gotten to write, but there isn’t as much there as I really wanted to present to you.

[arcanarubinaito]

Imperfect Relationships - Asra & Julian (Part 1)

[Read Part 2 Here!]

A dive into Asra and Julian’s relationship as it’s portrayed in my story/AU, “Fool’s Gold.” This one is more of a narrative style post!

Disclaimer: I’m aware that Asrian is a controversial ship for valid reasons. I wanted to write a different take on their relationship.

(Romantic relationship, not canon compliant)

First Impressions & Friendship

The summons to the Palace gave Asra a chance to bring Auric back sooner rather than later. Though it wasn’t his only reason, it gave him a purpose beyond whatever the hell Lucio needed him for. He didn’t have much choice in the matter anyways.

They kept to themself as much as they could for that first week, gaining access to the library for the purpose of researching the cure; they half-heartedly kept up a façade of doing just that, but mainly took advantage of the surprisingly extensive collection of books on magic for their own purpose. There were two others that frequented the library as well—the Countess, and one of the physicians employed at the palace.

It was the doctor that made the first move to befriend Asra and the Countess. He was loud, annoying, and dramatic; but Asra hadn’t laughed like that since Auric died, and he begrudgingly enjoyed Julian Devorak’s company. The three of them were similar in their circumstances. None of them wanted to be in the damned Palace. They took solace in their shared misery.

Julian and Asra started working together on the cure. Though Asra was mainly distracted by their own purpose, and had a fleeting attention span on the matter, they did provide good input when they were paying attention. In turn, Asra found it a little easier to relax when they knew someone else was keeping an eye out for them. Their friendship was one more of convenience and circumstance, it wasn’t likely that they would’ve been friends outside of the situation they were in.

(Faust found out quickly that she could get Asra to laugh and smile more when she tormented the poor doctor. Julian was more than happy to play his part once he figured it out.)

The problems started once Julian started asking questions.

The doctor was infuriatingly insistent when he wanted to know something. The questions started out simple enough—“what’s your favorite color?” “do you have a favorite food?”—and Asra would give him answers. Unfortunately this only encouraged Julian to ask more personal ones that Asra wasn’t eager to answer in any manner.

Asra dodged the questions as much as he could, and gave half-truths when he couldn’t avoid answering.

Julian found Asra to be great company. At first it felt like they were communicating well, as Julian made an effort to get to know this new friend of his; the things he liked, the things he disliked. Then abruptly there was a wall that slammed up between them, and Julian wondered what he was doing wrong.

He switched up tactics; perhaps he needed to lead by example. Julian would start offering up random bits of information about himself without warning, off-handed remarks about his past. “Did you know I amputated the Count’s arm?” “I found this little crow chick the other day…”

Asra seemed willing to talk about it, when he wasn’t caught up in his reading or taking a nap. Sometimes Asra would sit on the edge of his desk while Julian talked about some adventure or interesting event, listening intently with a focused expression. He’d ask questions of his own, which Julian would answer without hesitation.

Then Julian would try asking Asra questions again, trying to coax out the mysterious magician’s past; and the wall would slam back up and leave Julian wondering yet again what he was doing wrong.

Asra didn’t intend to hurt Julian when he pulled away. Likewise, Julian never intended to hurt Asra when asking these questions. Regardless, the contrasting communication styles drove a slight wedge between them.

[theawkwardvirgin]

Read a great post talking about how, no matter how terrible a person is/what they’ve done, you can never start thinking of them as “not a person”. Because the second you do, the second you set conditions on human dignity, you open the possibility to expand those conditions. You become the boot of power crushing specific groups you dislike (no matter how valid the reason).

It was a great post, a secular representation of one of the foundational aspects of Catholicism: that every person is made in the image and likeness of God, and has human dignity that should be respected.

Which is why it was so infuriatingly hypocritical that they ended their post by saying, ‘forgetting to respect each person’s humanity is how we end up losing our rights, like reproductive rights’. After spending several paragraphs beautifully expounding the importance of respecting the inherent dignity and rights of each and every human person, they use the example of having the right to abort any pregnancy, for any reason, a position that continually denies the human dignity and rights of fetuses, often until the very point of birth, when they’re fully able to live outside the womb and the only difference between them and the pro-choice crowd’s definition of a person with human rights and dignity is location.

Rejecting the human rights and dignity of fetuses is, in fact, WORSE than rejecting that of war criminals and Nazis, because their only crime is being inconvenient. That’s what human dignity and rights so often rests on now: How convenient that person’s existence is. This is backed up by the Unborn Victims of Violence Act, which asserts that fetuses have legal personhood and protections…as long as their mother wants them. As soon as she approves an abortion, those rights are stripped away.

Can’t people see how terrifying that is? Can’t they see how that leads to ageism, racism, classism? To ableism on a fucking horrifying scale? Iceland claims they’ve “cured” Down Syndrome. What that really means is they abort every fetus that shows signs of it. (The doctor who discovered how to detect Down Syndrome before birth, Jérôme Lejeune, was Catholic. He strongly opposed the use of his research in selective abortions, but was ignored.)

You can’t advocate for the respect of human rights and dignity and then exclude one group. That’s the very problem they were arguing against in the first place.

(Mandatory note that respecting the human rights and dignity of fetuses does not mean disrespecting the human rights and dignity of their mothers. The Catholic Church advocates for and actively supports the care of mothers both during and after pregnancy. There are many Catholic charities devoted to providing for mothers and supporting families. The Catholic Church does not support people who harass mothers at abortion clinics. They do have prayer and outreach programs that offer financial and medical support to these mothers, in case they don’t actually want an abortion but feel it’s their only option. I have also personally met people who’ve adopted several children from mothers at abortion clinics—they support the mother throughout her pregnancy, and then adopt the child after they’re born.)

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hello, I was looking on your page for a fic, but I couldn't find it, I went down as far as I could but nothing, I'm sure I saw it on your page but I can't be 100% sure, could you help me with this? It's a fic where they are co-workers, both teachers and as far as I remember, Dean hated Cas but they were having relationships, I think it was an enemies to lovers but also enemies to friends to lovers, I'm not sure about that So do you remember or know which fic I mean?

Hey! We found two fics that might fit, one already reviewed here and another actually written by one of the mods. Hopefully, one of these is what you were looking for:

The Closest Thing We Have To Magic by EllenOfOz, TrenchcoatBaby [Explicit, 221k words]

Dean Winchester is a graduate student at Stanford University’s School of the Occult. A naturally-talented mage but a lazy professor and student, he figures he’ll coast through his final year the way he always has: with charisma, charm, and a natural aptitude for magic. All that changes when his thesis advisor, Dr. Castiel Novak, turns out to be the strictest and most challenging educator on-campus. Unfortunately for Dean, the uptight professor is nearly his age and infuriatingly gorgeous. But Castiel is keeping a secret, a powerful talent that’s more a curse than a blessing when he’s targeted by seditious parts of magical society. Can Dean and Cas put aside their animosity—and undeniable chemistry—long enough to instill real change in the magical community? Or will sinister plots and hidden agendas keep them apart?

one million fires burning by dothraki_shieldmaiden [Explicit, 248k words]

Dean Winchester teaches three classes a day, tutors after school, and chairs the English Department for Lawrence High School. He does enough. Unfortunately, his boss doesn't feel the same and informs him that he has a new job: co-coaching the school's trivia team. His co-coach? None other than the school's golden boy, Castiel Milton. Who Dean can't stand, for various reasons, all of which are valid, thank you very much. And the fact that Dean can't stop talking about the stick up Cas's, sorry, Milton's ass? Completely irrelevant.

[modern-inheritance]

Debrief, Snippet #3 (no edits) (Back to Valaria)

“That is not an answer to my question, ma’am.” Arya’s eyes flashed and narrowed, only for the briefest of moments. It was time to light the fires again, remind these highborn fools who they dealt with. “And my rank is Major. I would appreciate that my accomplishments be properly acknowledged.”

The amusement vanished from Valaria’s face, cool frost replacing it in her voice. “No, Major. I do not seek to imply that you are, as you put it, a whore.”

“Then why this line of inquiry?” Arya flicked her gaze to Däthedr. “It has no relevance to the matters at hand. I raise a formal objection.”

Still. Still. Islanzadí did not look up from her notes. “Lady Valaria, your reasoning?” The queen scrawled something in the margins, shuffled the page to the back. 

“It speaks to the Major’s state of mind during the mission, and the cohesion of the unit. If there were unrecognized or unclaimed relationships, physical or otherwise, between members of the guard and the Major, it stands to reason that it could have opened the door to jealousy and distraction.” Valaria casually swooped a fringe of her hair behind her ear, eyes flashing with the barest trace of triumph. “The Major has a…history, of acting rashly in some situations, most frequently when members of her guard or the…other members of her Varden squads were involved–”

The words left her mouth before Arya could stop them, sharp and hot and spitfire. “That sure sounds a lot like you’re implying I’ve whored my way through the Varden, Lady–” 

“Major!” Däthedr’s staff cracked loud on the roots, his voice amplified to drown out whatever came next. “Restrain yourself.” Arya snapped her teeth shut with a harsh click, fully aware of the unfortunate timing of her slip. Bored her eyes through Valaria’s forehead and tried to ignore the smirk on the woman’s lips. “Lady Valaria, please continue.”

She bowed her head in the man’s direction. “Thank you, Lord Däthedr.” She returned her gaze to the young elf before them. “As I was saying, the Major has a long history of outbursts that frequently occur when it involves members of her guard or members of her Varden squads. It is no small stretch, then, to be concerned of the consequences such relations could have should they have been occurring during these courier missions. It should be known if they were a factor.” 

Again, uneasy silence fell. Arya refused to look away from Valaria, that infuriatingly smug look glimmering through the mask. She heard Izlanzadí put aside her pen, a soft shuffle of something else being placed on the desk. Another moment of contemplation.

“Your reasoning is valid.” The queen’s voice was neutral. “Objection overruled.” 

Arya glared up at the elf lord, for a handful of seconds dropping all pretense of polite and proper decorum her infuriating culture required. For that time she let Valaria see the fire in her eyes, the raise of her lip and the bared ancestral dragon’s teeth that replaced the dull canines and premolars that most elves sang forth instead of their natural weapons. 

Let this woman see the face of defiance, of fury, that Durza saw. 

Victory in defeat. Lady Valaria of House Teorann, lord of the city of Kirtan, took a minuscule step back from the wild child prodigal daughter of Du Weldenvarden before she could smother her reaction, her own eyes flaring wide for the briefest moment before she pulled down the mask again.

[toasecretsanta]

Together

Match: @heresronnie21 Prompt:  Sunflower siblings tea party Relevant warnings: Gen Written by: @sierice​

“Are you okay?”

Lester frowned. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

Because they were one day away from facing Nero once and for all. Because sooner or later, Apollo would have to face Python himself and regain his godhood.

“Because you’re sitting in a field of strawberries and having a tea party like you’re Alice in Wonderland.”

Hello! This is my attempt at TOA Secret Santa 2022 (ty heresronnie21 for the prompts!), set in chapter 12 of TON, where Meg and Apollo have their conversation about going to Nero's lair the next day, except I've dragged out that conversation to about 6 extra pages worth of indecision. I hope you enjoy!

Apollo sat near Hestia’s hearth, mulling over the conversation he had had with Meg just an hour or two ago. Nobody seemed to mind him sitting there. Or well, it would be more accurate to say that nobody had noticed him there.

Imagine that. A year ago, him coming to Camp Half Blood would have been the highlight of the year. It might’ve even come in the Olympian newspapers that day! But, well, when one is Lester Papadopoulos, Apollo had found, it was a very easy thing to be ignored.

“I have to go back. I have to see if I’m strong enough.”

“Maybe I’ve gotten stronger. But when I go back to the palace, will it be enough? Can I remember to be who I am now and not…who I was then?”

Well, that was the million dollar question here, wasn’t it? Would Meg be able to stay true to herself, even when faced with her horrible past head on? Would she be able to handle that toxic environment once again?

(Honestly, didn’t the same question apply to Apollo himself? Could he stay true to his promise if once he got back to Olympus? Could he remember what it was like to be a human?)

“Keep quiet.” Apollo muttered to himself, moodily fidgeting with a blade of grass. You know, this was why he liked Hestia’s hearth. At least it didn’t throw infuriatingly valid questions at him. Or, at least, most of the time.

“You know, talking to yourself is usually not a good sign, mentally speaking.”

Apollo jerked up, and he could’ve sworn that his powers had made a brief comeback with how high he had jumped.

“D-Dionysus?”

“What, do I look like anyone else?”

Considering the form he was in — a portly middle aged man holding a diet coke — Apollo was tempted to say yes, but honestly, he could do without being cursed with visions of mad insanity or leopard print shirts for the rest of, oh, forever. (The first and last time he ever wore a leopard print shirt was during John Deacon’s 23rd birthday party, Never again.)

“What are you doing here?”

“Could see you being all mopey from all the way there, just came to see what it was about.”

Apollo scowled. “Yeah, well, not much to see here.” It’s more likely that Dionysus came to tease him about how pathetic he probably looked right now. “You know, facing past abuse is usually not an advisable idea. In fact, it’s strongly recommended that you distance yourself from it as much as possible.”

Apollo stilled. Had Dionysus been listening in on their conversation? Was he offering advice?

Dionysus continued. “But in the case that it is necessary, it's advisable to face it with someone else by your side.”

Apollo’s eyebrows floated up somewhere to the heavens. There was no way Dionysus would be giving advice like that without some sort of ulterior motive.

But… the reasoning behind his little speech was sound, to be honest.

Maybe I’ll give him the benefit of doubt, Apollo decided.

Dionysus huffed, as if sensing his thoughts. “Just stating my opinion. No need to get all worked up about it.”, he said, turning around to walk back to the Big House.

“Thanks.” Apollo decided to say. All he got in response was another huff, before he was left alone with his thoughts once again.

Together, huh?

--------------------------------

“Meg, Lester’s asking for you,” Billie said, one hand on the frame of the Demeter cabin’s door. “Said to meet him at the strawberry fields.”

Meg got up from the bed she had been lounging on (It was Katie’s, if she remembered correctly), and frowned. Lester? What was he calling her for? Couldn’t he just have come himself?

“Why?”

Billie shrugged in reply. “Dunno. He was pretty insistent about it though.”

Meg sighed and got up from the bed, shaking off the leaves that the dryads she had been talking to had left behind.

“‘Kay, I’ll go.”

She took her time walking over to the fields— punctuating her steps with a few cartwheels along the way, glaring at that one Ares kid (What was his name? Sherman or something?)— you know, the usual.

Nothing, however, could have prepared her for what she was about to receive.

“...Lester, what on earth are you doing?”

Apollo beamed. He was sitting on a blanket in the middle of the strawberry fields, on an empty patch of land. Around him were various different food items and— was that a teacup?

Okay, looks like he finally cracked. Meg always did wonder when it would happen.

“Are you okay?”

Lester frowned. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

Because they were one day away from facing Nero once and for all. Because sooner or later, Apollo would have to face Python himself and regain his godhood.

“Because you’re sitting in a field of strawberries and having a tea party like you’re Alice in Wonderland.”

Lester frowned. “This is not a tea party. It’s simply a medium for conducting a conversation. With tea.” He opened his mouth, then closed it once again, probably realizing that he just defined what a tea party was, and began hurriedly speaking again. “And how do you know what a tea party is? When did you even watch Alice in Wonderland?” Meg shrugged. “Dunno.”

Lester pressed the bride of his nose, exhaling slowly. “Well, whatever. Just— sit down. Eat something. I took a lot of trouble smuggling these magic plates in from the kitchen. You do not want to know how hard it is to steal them from under the harpies’ eyes, I swear.”

While Lester kept babbling on about the hazards of stealing from harpies and how she should Never steal from harpies, and never challenge them to a fight either, Meg — (Yeah, right, like as if that was gonna stop her. Did Lester even know how convenient these plates and stuff were? She was not leaving this camp until she had at least three of those plates with her) — Meg decided to try out whatever weird food Lester decided to bring.

And there were a lot of weird food items there. How did he even think of them, honestly?

She hesitantly took a bite of a weird pastry looking thing that was shaped like a ball. Meg blinked.

It… was actually good. Honestly, with Lester’s aptitude for food, she thought it would be bio-hazardous or whatever. She took another bite.

Lester cut short whatever he had been talking about. “Do you like them?” 

“What is this?”

Lester smiled. “Ah, that’s one of my favorite pastries from the French! I believe it was called the gougère, if my memory serves me right.”

Meg choked.

“The what?” She managed to say after a while.

“The gougère! I remember the person who made it, lovely fellow, though at first he made it a savory dish, which, really, come on. It was very clearly meant to be sweet!”

Meg squinted at Lester, and then shrugged and continued to eat. Well, weird names aside, it tasted alright, and that’s what mattered.

“So,” Meg began, as she took up her fourth plate of suspicious pastries, “what did you call me out here for?”

Lester dropped the dopey smile he was making at a plate of what he had called tiramisu. “Is it wrong to spend a good meal with a friend?”

“It’s a tea party, Lester. Nobody does tea parties nowadays. You wanna say something.”

Lester raised his hands, as if signaling defeat. “You got me. I did want to talk to you about something.”

“So? Spill.”

Lester frowned. “You’ve spent way too much with Lavinia.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Just say what you were gonna say,” Meg said, phrasing it as an order.

Lester obeyed, but not after taking his own sweet time to answer.

“Meg… would you have rather preferred to have eaten all of this alone?” He began.

Meg furrowed her eyebrows. What did he mean by that?

“Uh, no? Why should I?”

“Some things,” Lester began, “are better experienced with other people. Tea parties, birthdays, singalongs—”

“Get to the point, Lester.”

“Logically, tomorrow's journey would also come under that bracket, wouldn’t it?”

Meg stilled. “What do you mean?” She demanded.

Lester sighed— and for a second, he actually looked his age, centuries and millennia older than her. He looked old and weary, but mostly, he looked tired.

“I’ll admit it,” He began, slowly taking up a cup of tea (Because he was weird like that). “I don’t know what will happen to you tomorrow. I don’t know what will happen to me either.”

Lester turned to Meg, and looked her in the eyes. “But we can get through it together, can’t we?”

Meg looked away, blinking her eyes. Stupid Lester and his stupid reassuring speech. Why did he have to say such cheesy lines? What did he know about all this?

Everything.

She rubbed her shoulder and sniffed (It was because of allergies, okay? Nothing more).

“Together, then. We have to try.”

Together, huh?

[snifekinner]

For the friendship ask: 1-10 for the baltic trio :)

happily :)

1. who brings the most drama to the table?

raivis spirals really easily so it's usually him although it's never anything serious, just, "i sat up for 36hrs straight and now im convinced all my friends hate me for reasons i made up in my brain."

2. who always has the gossip on everyone else?

eduard. he has organised folders on his computer for all the dirt he has on people. always good to have plenty to negotiate with. tolys is sometimes like, "hey we don't have beef, couldn't you delete the stuff about me?" and ed is like. "nah. i like to cover all potentialities."

3. who is the one everyone goes to for advice?

usually tolys. raivis likes asking both of them at once because then he gets two different takes (all data is useful) but tolys is more likely to be sympathetic about his problems. ed is very much a 'fixer' and not great at validating emotions.

4. who is the one who gets dunked on the most?

i don't think they go in much for ripping on each other in general but there's a fairly equal split. probably leans slightly more towards tolys because it's pretty hard to get under ed's skin and raivis is too easily set off on one of his anxiety spirals. whereas it's almost guaranteed that at some point while they're hanging out tolys will do something which makes ed and raivis go, "ok MUM."

5. who borrows everyone else's stuff all the time?

tolys; he doesn't necessarily borrow stuff but he'll pick up things lying around and just use them whether he knows who owns it or not. his defence is, if you leave it lying around then it's fair game. raivis constantly loses his pens and they all end up in tolys' pockets.

6. who is the peacemaker?

eduard has a very grounded, level-headed attitude which snuffs out arguments before they can really get started. again his 'fixer' behaviour coming in. also very straightforward about calling it as he sees it. the type to say in an infuriatingly calm tone, "let's not be over-emotional about this."

7. whose house do they hang out at the most?

between ed and tolys. raivis' place is always a huge mess and the other two can't be there without getting stressed. raivis would prefer to drive or get a train across the border than clean his house. he lives in a state of semi-organised chaos where he can locate the exact tool he needs from a drawer full of them but has no idea where he put his clean laundry. he's had the backs off most of his electronics and some of them still only semi-work. it's kind of a death trap in there.

8. who always demands they take a selfie and who complains about it every time?

tolys always wants to take photos and eduard always complains about it.

9. who is the biggest liability when drunk?

lmao eduard. the other two can handle their drink; eduard is kind of a lightweight (in comparison) and he spends so much time being calm and diplomatic that when he's drunk there's a strong likelihood he'll just go tell everyone exactly what he thinks of them. it's very, "he's going to say the wrong thing to someone and end up getting punched."

10. who is the one who flakes out of plans last minute?

raivis. not intentionally, he'll be hyperfixated on something and completely forget about their plans. tolys isn't flaky but he is chronically late for everything.

[plantdad-dante]

Book #176 - Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales

(second time read; I just wanted something nice and dependable again for a change)

Idk, sometimes you just want to fry your brain with a bit of gay teen romance, like the bookworm equivalent of watching a rom-com on a rainy day. Didn't even need to be particularly fluffy, which this one wasn't, for me to have a blast.

The miscommunication, or rather the refusal to communicate, period, got a little frustrating, even distressing at times (especially when Ollie would be all like "I won't tell you bc I want you to figure it out yourself", like- ugh, dude, just talk). And while, in the beginning, I kinda thought that both of them were being self-centered idiots for no reason (in a way that I couldn't be sure the book was fully aware of), it was cool, in the end, to see them a) untangle the emotional reasoning behind their actions, and b) fucking grow out of it and finally talk. I wanna believe that Ollie and Will are now that kind of couple that's infuriatingly good at talking things out and it kinda pisses off everyone else. That's my headcanon for them. That'd be so fucking funny.

Like, I just really like the reconciliation scene in the music room, okay? I like the part were they talk about their feelings openly and then proceed to grow closer again in that lower-stakes kinda way, while Ollie slowly deals with his unrelated grief.

Btw, I did remember the aunt's story as this very impactful gut punch, and uh... yeah. Yeah, it's still fucking brutal. The whole thing hangs over Ollie like the Sword of Damocles for the entire story and then... yeah, don't know what I'm supposed to say, it's just really fucking sad.

On the lighter side of things, I also enjoyed the friends' sideplots, especially prickly Lara (+ Ollie just being this instinctively compassionate towards her regardless of her jibes), and Juliette's non-romance. Remember, you don't need to be aro and/or ace to defy amatonormativity! Like, it is completely reasonable and cool to headcanon her that way, but I also like the thought of her not being on the ace-spectrum and just... not being interested in romance at the moment. She's valid either way, and thats nice.