#whats the reverse of a hipster?

[sas-afras]

im truly genuinely so happy for everyone having fun with the prime show, even though i have the tags blacklisted out the ass and half my dashboard is unusable

ill probably watch it in like 2-3 years when the hype dies down and cant benefit amazon anymore <3

[shananigans-posting]

The Reverse Omens fanart possibilities from this image requires talent beyond me. But a PWP fanfic is not.

[snowstories]

The problem with BOTW is that it's obnoxiously popular in the LOZ fandom to the detriment of other games but also unfortunately it's genuinely really really fun to write fanfic for.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Me: I really like dc canon and frankly I think that fanon flanderizes the characters to the point where they are unrecognizable

Also me: Dick and Jason are drinking buddies,

Tim has put kon, Bernard and Steph in a gc called “the roster” and dipped.

Dick is not allowed to meet Barbara’s friends bc they all like him too much and then it’s rlly hard to bitch about him. (This is actually kinda canon thank u Dinah lance in birds of pray lmao)

The reverse of this is also true but for Dicks exes and Barbara like they get along TOO well.

Babs and Kori are friends.

Babs and Donna are sworn enemies. (Mutual)

Dick gets a different signature food with each of his siblings except Steph cuz they get smoothies. 

Dick keeps trying to get Steph and Donna to meet up but Everytime he tries Gotham gets blown up

Damian refuses to sneak pets in a trench coat bc it’s bad for them to be squished.

Duke is the only bat who knows about the mpreg joker story

Tim and Jason’s only texts to each other are “help” or “you lil shit what did you do!!?!”

Tim, Jason, Cass and Duke all like the discowing suit

Steph and Damian hate it

Damian says he’s spending the weekend not with his dad and everyone assumes Bruce and talia are trying split custody but he needs to bitch about Bruce so he goes to bludhaven

Donna and Dick get drunk together and get progressively more and more sappy about how they should move in together and how much they love each other, you’re amazing no you’re amazing.

Roy and Dick are besties who text like a divorced couple trying to coparent

Dicks exes are in a discord server called “raw. next question” and they have channels called “red heads only” “also dated his brother” “tried to kill him” etc

The redheads don’t have names in this discord “redhead 1” “red head 2” “redhead 3” and so on

They also don’t discuss dick in this server at all

Bruce calls dick for ideas about the Brucie Wayne persona and also when he just doesn’t get why people are mad at him.

Dick calls wally for help with menial tasks

Tim is a big big big fan of THC (same)

Dick goes to raves

Jason is actually the DARE Robin

An image of Dick at a rave went viral on Twitter and Bruce had a mental breakdown so did Jason

Stephanie will never ask Bruce for anything but she buys a 10$ coffee every morning on his card bc of that video of people saying young people can’t buy houses bc of Starbucks and avocado toast.

Jason has a video of 19 yr old Dick spitting at a police officer and he sent it on the family gc when he found out dick went undercover as a cop. It is one of 5 messages he has sent.

Everyone of the Bats is some shade of bisexual

Dicks house is the defacto Bruce is being a lil bitch for the bats and literally everyone who is affiliated with Bruce as long as you bring liquor you’re welcome

Garth and Dick watch sad movies together

Tim and Bruce watch all the bond films together

Damian and Dick watch bird documentaries together

Jason doesn’t watch tv bc he’s a secret hipster (he doesn’t have a tv they keep blowing up.)

Linda has absolutely asked Dick to swing with her and Wally and Dick told Wally about this and Wally’s only reaction was…”soooo is that a yesss or a no?”

The fab 5 titans all hate each others exes, refuse to acknowledge any guilt their friend had in the matter , and will absolutely pretend none of them have dated (they have all dated)

Bruce is in absolute denial that his children date. Like he knows dick has dated people but he assumes that it is kindergarten dating “ah dick spent the night at Barbara’s they must really like holding hands” “Bernard and Tim are moving so fast I mean I saw one of them kiss the other on the cheek??” Meanwhile he has traumatized all robins to ever Robin bc him and Selina Kyle can’t keep their hands right themselves

Also me: cognitive dissonance thank you for your service

Dick has like 25million ig followers, donna does his photos

Tim has a very popular shitpost account on Twitter from his pre Robin days that has statements like “if i was Batman I would simply barricade Arkham” and “stalking Nightwing rn we are up to 120 flips and 30 quips…. There is no else here”

[pumperpup]

In the heart of the metropolis, where the streets buzzed with the eclectic energy of its inhabitants, Elliot, a young man of distinctive taste and a penchant for the unconventional, embarked on a quest that would etch an unforgettable chapter in his life's narrative. Known for his love of vintage vinyl and the art of coffee brewing, Elliot was the epitome of urban hipster sophistication. His journey into the unknown commenced with the discovery of the Moonlight Diet, a regimen shrouded in mystique, promising not just weight loss but a transformation of the self.

As the moon waxed and waned, so did Elliot's enthusiasm for his nocturnal feasts. Under the luminescence of the celestial orb, he dined on a cornucopia of exotic fruits and rarefied edibles, each bite an ode to the night. Initially, the changes were subtle: a lightness of being, a newfound vigor. But as the nights unfurled, a more tangible metamorphosis took root.

Elliot's belly, once flat and unassuming, began to burgeon. It swelled like a balloon on the cusp of flight, stretching his flannel shirts to their limits. The transformation was both bewildering and mesmerizing. His midsection took on a life of its own, a spherical monument to the moon's enigmatic power. It jiggled with a peculiar grace, a soft, pillowy expanse that elicited a mixture of awe and consternation in those who beheld it.

The sensation of his expanding girth was peculiar; it was as if he carried the moon's essence within him, a constant, gentle weight that nudged him towards an understanding of the universe's mysteries. Each step he took was a dance with gravity, a negotiation with the newfound corpulence that marked him as a disciple of the night's shadowy diet.

Embarking on a quest for answers, Elliot sought the counsel of a wise nutritionist, whose laughter at his tale echoed the whimsy of his predicament. She explained the folly of his ways, how the disruption of natural rhythms and the allure of moonlit enchantments had led to his remarkable transformation.

Yet, despite the wisdom imparted, Elliot's belly refused to concede to the realms of normalcy. Instead, it continued its celestial expansion, growing to sizes beyond what was typically possible, a phenomenon that defied the laws of physics and biology. Elliot's silhouette became a legend in itself, a living testament to the night sky's boundless influence. His belly, now a marvel of the modern world, shone with a luminescence reminiscent of the very moonlight that had begotten its growth.

Far from seeking to reverse this unparalleled transformation, Elliot embraced his unique condition. He became a symbol of the extraordinary, a beacon for those drawn to the mysteries of the universe. Crowds would gather to witness the man whose belly had transcended human limitations, each viewing a reminder that the world was filled with wonders far beyond our understanding.

In this new chapter of his life, Elliot navigated his existence with a buoyancy both literal and metaphorical. His story, a blend of curiosity, adventure, and the sheer unpredictability of life, echoed through the streets of the city, a tale not of caution but of embracing the unknown with an open heart and an unyielding spirit. Elliot, and his ever-expanding belly, became a legend, a mythic figure dancing in the moonlight, forever a part of the celestial tapestry that had so dramatically reshaped his destiny.

[nenoname]

the realisation that ford's dream hipster dream basically described what happened during the portal incident to a t but with reversed roles

"it grabbed him and lifted him into the air. i tried to run to help him, but my feet were frozen" i'm gonna chuck my phone out the window

[madnessismydestiny]

Another swap au, this time, in a bit of a role reversal way, where the throuple are trying to date eatch other, while Scott and Ramona are the ones trying to control/destroy their love life.

in this au, Gordon/Gideon used to know Ramona in highschool, and altough Gordon was born with his mind powers, he wanted to prove himself himout the need of abbilities, so he gave them away to Ramona. Years later, they were then reunited, with Gordon being a music producer and Ramona useing her mind abbilities to people with their problems, witch made her very ritch, altough there are those who that how she helps others are….uestionable. Gordon proposed the idea to her that he could help produce some music for a company (comercials and such) with also maybe remove some of his own fears and doubts, she accepted and she did remove it… atleast, that’s what she told him. He diden’t know when it had started, he diden’t know when his memories started to get foggy, he diden’t know when he had forgotten his name, all he knew was that his mind was slowly being locked away, with Ramona trying to control his thouths like a puppet. He diden’t know how to get away, expect if he had another form to hide away into… and he did find a way. Potions left from another company was his salvation, so he took the one he seemed the most fitting, and ran away in his cat form. He knows he can’t go back home without Ramona going looking for him, nor go back to his original job, so he hides away, not wanting Ramona get her Gideon back… if that is his real name.

Matthew used to date Scott in highschool, and they even formed a band togeather, that soon got bigger over the years. Sadly, it seemed that the original sparks that once was there has been fading away, with Scott usually talking how Matthew is a powerfull fighter and has amazing musical talant, altough it was nice, it seemed as if that was all Scott saw him as now, presenting him more as some kind of ‘exotic’ animal or plant, not a real person anymore. The last straw was when he discovered that Scott was cheating on him with some other powerfull and rich girl, so Matthew left, both the band, and Scott. It was chertanly lonely being on his own, even with the demon hipster chicks, it still wasn’t enough. That was until a man stumbled unto his street, who seemed to not fully where he was and clearly needed help, so Matthew took him in, and trying to figure out how to help the man called Gideon.

Julie powers lives with her ex-boyfriend Stephen, who came out to her as gay not too long after moving in togeather, but even tough they are stuck togeather for now, they still care about eatch other and try to figure out how to move along and away with their lives. They both work at The rockit, with Stephen as a musician and Julie as a waitress… even if their not the greatest at their job. It wasen’t until the place was getting a new employe that things began to change. She diden’t know what exactly it was, but there was something about the passionate Matthew that she thouth was interesting, so they started to gang out togeather. at one point, there began to appear an extreamly smart cat to Julie and Stephen's place, who they began to take care of, who they named Gigs, and even tough the cat always seems to go away in long periods of time, he always come back. It wasen’t long before Matthew then introduced to her his new roomate called Gideon, who also wanted to try to work at the Rockit. It siden’t take long before all three of them began to hang out a lot togeather, and even thouth Julie and some feelings for Matthew, she coulden’t help but notice that his eyes turned to Gideon, and she coulden’t but also agree that there also something about him. She definitely was curious as to see where this thing between the three of them could lead to… she proberbly would regret that thouth later, when the messy past came litterally crashing down.

inspired by lakesparkles and lux-wave’s swap au’s.

[rosanna-writer]

🌠 and 🌶️ for the feysand ask game!

🌠 What is your favorite Feysand trope? Feysand is a particularly fun pairing for role reversal! But tbh anything where Rhys simps for the super scary Lady of Nightmares goes so hard

🌶️ What is your favorite Feysand spicy scene? This is going to make me sound like a Feysand smut hipster because it's not one of the popular ones that everyone thinks of, but I really really love the scene where Feyre's sore from training in ACOWAR and Rhys helps her out. The casual domesticity gets me every time! After all the pain and suffering they go through, there's just something soothing about Feysand taking their time and having some very chill sex on a weeknight lmao

[kstewdeux]

@inukagfluffweek | Prompt: Role Reversal

Summary: Modern Trivia AU (Collection Here). Kikyo calls to try and get Inuyasha back. Or something. Motive unclear and unimportant.

It was a typical Friday night. Nothing was out of the ordinary and, in fact, everything was going very well but for the fact that Inuyasha's phone had been buzzing non-stop and his already pale skin somehow kept getting paler. His attitude wasn't doing so hot either and honestly, Kagome was starting to second guess a lot of things because if he thought it was okay to treat people-

As she stewed and Inuyasha was in the bathroom for the umpteenth time tonight doing god knows what, Miroku sucked on his teeth and picked up the phone that had started vibrating again.

"Oh wait, it's just a spam call," the man sighed before taking a quick sip of beer and pressing the answer icon, "John's Mule Barn, head jackass speaking. Where can I kick your call?"

Miroku's bemused expression fell immediately and something dark bloomed behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry. No one by that name works here. You must have a wrong number," the hipster replied to whoever it was in a cold tone and then immediately hung up.

"Were they trying to reach Inuyasha about his car's extended warranty?" Kagome joked nervously when Miroku glared down at the phone like he was thinking of smashing it to pieces.

"No, it-" Miroku huffed before grinding his teeth when a different spam number popped up and the phone began vibrating again. This time Kagome was quicker and despite Miroku's panicked attempt to grab it, she managed to keep the phone just out of reach as she answered.

" Hello, City Morgue. You stab 'em we- Kagome giggled before her eyes bugged then darted up to Miroku who looked like he was watching a slow motion train wreck, "Okay. That's nice. So do you have a dead body or not?" Kagome commented slower and in a markedly less amused tone, "Well if you don't-"

Sighing heavily, Kagome lowered the phone when the caller hung up before looking back up at Miroku.

"So...that's a thing. Explains a lot," she cleared her throat and set the phone down, "We need to get him a different phone. She's next level crazy."

Miroku blew out his cheeks and nodded before the phone started buzzing again with yet another spam number. Kagome chewed on her lip for a second before answering.

"Drip drip drop little April showers, beating a tune as you- " Kagome sung in a bubbly tone before pouting and lowering the phone, "Aw, she hung up," it buzzed again and Kagome answered, "Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities. Forget about your worries and your- aw  man, she hung up again."

The pause between calls was longer this time but like clockwork the phone buzzed again and this time Miroku grabbed it. A beat and then he sent Kagome a bemused smirk.

"It's a wonderful day in the neighbor-" 

The phone went dead. Kagome snorted. The pause was even longer this time but the phone did start buzzing yet again. Miroku's smirk turned into a wicked grin.

"Butterfly in the sky, I can go twice as high. Take a look, it's in a-"

Kagome gestured excitedly and the phone was deposited in her hand and this time answered on speaker.

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they’re like, it’s better than yours. Damn right, it’s better than yours. I can teach you, but I have to -" Kagome sang as quickly as she could and Miroku cackled at the indignant spluttering on the other end.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Inuyasha asked - looking pale and knowing but also amused.

"Trolling your ex-girlfriend," Kagome giggled when the phone went dead before gesturing for Inuyasha to come sit, "We should do a song we can all sing together. Like...like Living on a Prayer."

"S-so the fact that she's been calling me doesn't-" Inuyasha asked hesitantly before blanching when Kagome clapped excitedly when the phone buzzed again.

"Okay. Okay. Living on a Prayer. You two join the end," Kagome breathed before answering with far too much confidence, "Woooaah! We're half way there."

The two men shared a glance when Kagome pointed at them as a cue. For the briefest of seconds, they all stared at each other and then Miroku smirked and leaned forward  while Inuyasha simply stared between them like they'd lost their damn minds.

"Wo-oah. Living on a Prayer! Take my hand and we'll-"

Kagome wiggled happily when the phone went silent.

"Okay, okay, what should we do next?" she asked before grinning at a very confused. very disturbed Inuyasha, "Oh, we should do a duet."

Strangely, though, the phone didn't ring again and Inuyasha was absolutely flabbergasted when Kagome groaned in disappointment.

"Why doesn't this bother you?" Inuyasha asked nervously before clarifying when Kagome quirked one eyebrow, "That my ex-girlfriend is calling me. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Yes and no. I trust you but it pisses me off that she's stalking you. Not cool," Kagome snorted like it was obvious as she reached out and poked the phone with one finger like that would make it do something, "Aw, I was having fun."

"How long has she been calling you like this?" Miroku asked after a heavy moment in which Inuyasha seemed to be questioning his own sanity.

"Just happens every once in a while. Usually once I answer, she goes away again," Inuyasha admitted miserably before catching himself and quickly clarifying, "Not that I'm doing anything. I just-"

"I know you're not," Kagome addressed his fear with a kind smile and Inuyasha died a little in sheer relief.

"Why haven't you changed your number?" Miroku huffed in frustration, "We talked about this. I thought you changed your number."

"What made you think I did that? Did I ever give you a new number?" Inuyasha clipped defensively. Miroku blushed a little and nodded like he would admit the answer was indeed obvious.

"Well we'll change it tomorrow," Kagome offered with a slightly dejected sigh, "Know what we should do after this though? Karaoke. That'd be fun."

They did indeed go to karaoke and it was indeed fun. They did indeed change Inuyasha's number as well but Inuyasha's biggest take away from the whole situation wasn't that he was a moron - although he would admit changing his number would've been the smart thing to do. No, his biggest take away was that Kagome trusted him to the point where she found out his ex-girlfriend was calling him and her response was to laugh in Kikyo's face.  Not only that, Kagome encouraged him to laugh in Kikyo's face and damn if that didn't feel good to take the last of her power over him away. 

For whatever reason, a final broken piece slid into place. From that moment forward, Kikyo no longer bothered him - which was partially due to the fact that she never did get his new number and also because it finally hit him that what she was doing was nothing less than incredibly pathetic. That realization was life changing. Gone was the anxiety when a call marked spam popped up on his new phone. He could ignore the telemarketing bastards confidently and in peace. Or he could answer them with his girlfriend and they could sing the poor bastards a random duet. 

[omegaradiowusb]

NOVEMBER 11, 2024 (#389)

Elliott Smith: "Coming Up Roses" Boo Radleys, The: "Lazarus" Queens Of The Stone Age: "In The Fade" Radiohead: "Pyramid Song" Yeah Yeah Yeahs: "Pin" Strokes, The: "Reptilia" Knife, The: "Marble House" Rowland S. Howard: "Pop Crimes" Painted Palms: "All Of Us" Arctic Monkeys: "Do I Wanna' Know?" Youth Lagoon: "Cannons" Ty Segall: "Reverse Shark Attack"

Our Autumn season is almost going, going, gone. This morning, it's a free space on the Omega bingo card and every one of them is a winner. We reach back and treat you to another once-a-season marquee show of nothing but classic top-shelf projects in Britpop, indie, and peak hipster tunes. All music tonight is provided by @tewz, Omega-approved. So, this one's on us. Enjoy it.

We return in two weeks at 3AM for what will be our final Autumn and Year 12 broadcast of Omega. Feel free to download our show for the next seven days at WUSB’s schedule. Stay with us here at @omegaradiowusb for a gross amount of playlists since our genesis. Also visit us at our new music site @omegaremix for an experience done like no other.

Thanks to all of our followers, supporters, and listeners or ours and WUSB. See you soon.

November 25, 2024: final deluxe Autumn Omega + Year 12.

[mlqueen89]

never find another like me | hoax (prologue)

pairing: jamie tartt x OFC (ted lasso)

rating: T(language)

word count: 3,704

summary: you know the hero died, so what's the movie for? Nat always thought she was meant for Adam, well, up until now.

A/N: As promised - here's the first chapter of my jamie tartt fic. Be warned, there's no jamie in this chapter, just some background so we're up to speed once they meet! This is my first fic in a while, so please please please, let me know what you think - feedback, comments, constructive criticism - anything is welcomed! <3 I'm also posting over on A03, so if you see this there, it's meee.

never find another like me masterlist | next chapter →

Behind this fortune is the love of your life. 

Natalie MacCormack scoffed at the tiny slip of paper from her seat on the floor, surrounded by a semi-circle of piled half-full banker boxes and a half-empty bottle of red sitting by her hip. Turning it over to see the “Lucky Numbers” on the reverse 81, 24, 14, 9 Nat rolled her eyes at herself. The damn numbers weren’t even in the right order. 

Crumpling the fortune, Nat tipped the wine glass to her lips, swallowing once and then twice before she cringed against the burn and almost gagged on the after taste. Port had never been her favourite – it had been Adam’s, just like the paint colour he picked out, the restaurants they ate at, the photos he’d insisted they hang in the apartment they shared together. Had shared – Nat mentally corrected herself. Just like the apartment on the Upper East Side they had shared, the one Adam insisted was perfect, even when Nat wasn’t sure she could afford her half of the rent. 

Tossing the small ball of paper toward an overflowing trash bag across the small room, Nat glanced down into the small shoe box in her lap, a few strands of loose, light brown hair falling across her vision. Three years of memories shifted around in the tattered box: the strip of photos of her and Adam kissing in a photo booth on Coney Island, a movie stub from their second date, a napkin from a hipster oyster bar in Brooklyn where he’d asked her to be his after two months of back and forth. The whole time Nat had been seeing Adam, she hadn’t been seeing anyone else, she had never been good at being aloof or casually unattached – it wasn’t her style. When she found something, in this case someone, she liked, she was laser focused, intent. Inez always told her that putting all her money on one horse wasn’t the way to win bets, that it made no business sense. If she’d had time for a therapist, Nat was sure they would have told her that she was losing herself in someone else to avoid dealing with her own problems – to which she would have ignored them. Nat hadn’t cared. From the moment she met Adam at the bar of a club while the indie band she liked played on stage, all she wanted was Adam. Smart, handsome, journalist Adam with his boxy framed glasses, who swept her off her feet and made her feel like she wanted to be the kind of woman he liked. 

“...you’re supposed to burn it.” The voice piped up from the AirPod stuck in her ear, “we did this thing with the team. Sacrifice to the spirits, I think.” 

“Did it work?” Nat hummed, gulping another mouthful of the wine, bracing for the burn this time before she swallowed. 

“I mean,” there was a pause for a beat and then two, “yeah. Curse lifted. No more ghosts as far as I can tell. Just took my Booker T action figure.” 

“So, you’re telling me, you, Thierry Zoreaux, believed enough in some hoodoo to burn your favourite action figure?” There was a silence on the other end of the line and Nat sighed deeply, the long quiet broken only by the glug-glug of the wine she poured into her half empty glass until the crimson liquid nearly reached the brim. Out of bounds – she had heard the snippiness in her own tone the moment she’d spoken the words.  

“Sorry - I know you’re trying to help. It’s just that I don’t think burning a shoe box full of pictures and movie stubs is going to exorcise a three-year relationship and pull the knife out of my back. I don’t even have the My Little Pony I had when I was seven to sacrifice to the flames.” 

Zoreaux’s voice returned after a long moment, a moment in which Nat had to dig around for her phone in a pile of newspaper meant to wrap valuables to see if the line had disconnected. “It would be a start.” 

Nat stood, the feeling of the three-quarter bottle of wine hitting her knees so she stumbled a bit before she found her footing with the help of the corner of the king size bed. “If that’s the case then I might have to burn the entire apartment to the ground. Probably half of Brooklyn too.”  

“Fuck him, Mac.”  

“Yeah - fuck him.” Nat repeated the words without feeling them, her voice a faraway echo, a numbness spreading down her arms as her nose began to tingle and her vision blurred behind the tears welling in her eyes.  

“Fuck her, too. Friends don’t do that shit.” 

Adam cheating hadn’t been the hardest hit. The biggest gut punch, the one that knocked the air right out of her lungs had been who he decided to cheat on her with. In their apartment, in the bed they shared... Inez. Adam had cheated on her with Inez and for how long, she didn’t know. As far back as Nat could remember, Inez had been her sister – not by blood, but by choice. Nat had loved Inez too and the hole that she and Adam carved out and left felt cavernous, bottomless, impossible to heal.  

Approaching the bedside table, Nat grabbed a picture frame and scowled at the smiling picture there: the photo of her, Adam, Inez and Inez’s flavour of the month in Mexico last year. All sun and smiles, and yet, in the year the picture had sat on her nightstand she’d somehow missed Inez’s manicured fingers splayed on Adam’s thigh, just above where his orange board shorts ended. Inez and Adam had at least been dancing with the idea of something since last year then, right when Nat felt like her and Adam’s relationship had hit its stride. The relationship had hit its stride, Nat just hadn’t realized at the time that it wasn’t with her. “Was the Nat you knew when we were kids this incredibly blind?” 

“There’s a flight that leaves in three hours out of JFK, you’d be in London in 7 hours and in Richmond by morning.” Nat could hear the jingle of keys on Zoreaux’s end, the creak of a door and the stifled yawn he tried to swallow. “Come and visit. Maybe you’ll like it – find something else to care about for half a minute.”  

“I’ve got a job here, Zee. My life is here...” the words had been ones she’d thought to herself over a hundred times in the short week since her world had been sent off-balance. After kicking Adam and Inez out with the very few items of clothing they had been wearing and the shock had partly worn off, Nat had reasoned that she couldn’t leave New York. Where would she go? The life she’d worked so hard to construct after university was here, as difficult as it was to be here now. Not only that but leaving now would give Adam the satisfaction that he had won, that she somehow hung her head as she lost the war. 

“...Or, hear me out, crazy idea - you could find a job here and stay for a bit. I love it here.”  

“Sounds like something Eve would say,” Nat mused, tossing the frame on the bed without caring were it landed and exiting the room, her mind turned to the cold Famous Famiglia pizza in the fridge as she headed toward the kitchen. Pizza was always the great distractor when it came to feeling feelings, Nat had long ago found. “Wait, did Eve call you?” 

“No. Your mom didn’t call me.” Zoreaux sighed and Nat could almost hear his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You know I wouldn’t tell you even if she did though, right?” 

“Calling her my mom is a stretch,” Nat scoffed, a humourless laugh hiding just below the surface as she wrenched open the fridge and grabbed the pizza box before nudging the door closed with her foot, “even for you. Did she text you then?” 

“She might have.” 

“So, she knows then. I didn’t even tell her.” Nat huffed, tossing the pizza box on the counter before flipping the top open and taking a bite of a cold slice before she threw the rest into the microwave. The port needed company – Nat had been drinking and snacking on pretzels for at least 2 hours. “She must have called Adam.” 

Eve had always liked Adam, always told Nat how lucky she was to have found someone like Adam, taken Adam’s side the few times they’d met, bought Adam extravagant gifts on birthdays and Christmas, all while telling Nat the greatest gift she could have, was the gift of not needing anything. Eve always made a point to lay on some cringey joke about how they were natural accomplices, or at least their namesakes had been – Adam always laughed. Adam, Adam, Adam. Bitterly, Nat thought, as she watched her pizza rotate in the microwave, Eve probably found a way to excuse the fact that he’d cheated... if he had even mentioned that part. Knowing Adam, he probably had and found a way to twist it so that Nat was at fault for his transgression. Eve would have lapped that up, no doubt. Anything for Adam. 

“Listen Mac, I have early morning training, but promise you’ll think about it.” 

“I promise.” 

&& 

Visit Richmond! 

Nat stifled a yawn as she sat in her cubicle toward the back of the long writers’ floor in the New York Times Building, hunched over her laptop. Clutching the Joe’s coffee cup in one hand, Nat guided the cursor around the page, absently clicking on a few slider images between deep sips of her coffee. The port was taking its revenge right about now in the form of a splitting headache that pulsed at Nat’s temples. Reaching into her desk, Nat tipped a few Tylenol into her palm and knocked them back with another large gulp of caffeine. Resting her head in her hand, Nat squinted against the brightness of the screen as a timelapse of busy streets and cafes and boats gliding along the Thames played on the screen. 

Home of AFC Richmond - Go Greyhounds! The new banner slid across the top of the webpage as the video concluded, a still image of an on-field celebration that included Zoreaux and a few players she didn’t recognize, mouths open in silent exuberance. Promoted! 

Plan Your Visit. Nat clicked on that header next, pausing for a moment as her eyes focused on the link at the top of the new page Track Flights & Prices.  

The sound of clicking heels and the pop of chewing gum alerted Nat to the woman hovering outside of her workstation. 

“Planning some vacay?” Cheryl popped her gum sharply once more as she leaned over the short cubicle wall, her eyes dancing over Nat’s computer screen as she twisted a strawberry blonde strand of hair around her finger. “Looks like a cute spot.” 

“Just some research for a story.” Nat offered a small smile before she closed the lid sharply. Richmond would have to wait. 

“Cool. Boss wants to see you.” 

“Tell him I’ll be right there.” Waiting a minute, Nat watched Cheryl turn and start her trek back across the floor before she quickly opened her laptop and clicked on the flight tracker link. 

 && 

Perry DeGrossman had been a New York Times legend in his own time. In his 20 years with the company, he’d worked his way up from Junior Writer to Editor. When Nat had been hired four years ago, Perry had interviewed her and taken her under his wing, for some unknown reason. Not that Nat questioned it too much, being a Perry protégé had helped her writing improve ten-fold. 

“You’re heading down to Madison Square Garden,” Perry tapped the end of his pen on the yellow notepad sitting on the edge of his desk as Nat slipped into the office at the opposite end of the floor and closed the door quietly behind herself. “You and Adam are covering the Lockwood kid’s trade to the Rangers this morning.” 

“Sports is Harvey’s thing, isn’t it?” Nat cleared her throat to keep herself from laughing at Perry’s assignment. Sports coverage was definitely not her thing – she'd barely watched any games of any sport, let alone a New York Rangers game. “I didn’t even know there was a Lockwood trade to cover.” 

“So, you don’t want it?” Perry challenged, tossing the pen to his desk with a sigh, “I changed it from Harvey to you at the meeting this morning. Please write me a great article so that I can rub it in Miller’s face. I can’t stand that guy – do you know that he calls all raw vegetables crudités?”  

“No, I do - it’s just -” Nat gripped her notepad and relaxed for a moment, mentally shaking herself free of the cloud that hung over her head. “Adam and I, we broke up last week -” 

“Listen, MacCormack.” Perry sighed, cutting Nat off, a hand sweeping through his thinning shock of white hair before he stood from the high back chair and steepled his hands on the desk in front of himself. “This isn’t high school – I'm too old for this. We’re all adults. I don’t care about my writers dating s’long as you can do your job. I don’t care what happens outside work.” 

“Yes, sir.”  

“You can still do that job, can’t you MacCormack?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good. Now, we need to think about beefing up your sports coverage. Lenny is retiring next year, hopefully before he has that street food induced heart attack, and I’d like if you took his place once that happens.” 

“The heart attack?”  

“Jesus - no. Retirement,” Perry smirked despite himself and waved his hands about, erasing the tense atmosphere. “Listen. You’re a fantastic journalist MacCormack. Don’t let some asshat with a fancy diploma, weird looking glasses and a semi-decent tailor fuck that up for you.” 

“You know what? He doesn’t even need the glasses, fake lenses... he thinks they make him look more like Hemmingway or something ridiculous.” Nat waggled her fingers in front of her eyes, barely biting back the smirk as she relaxed slightly. “He wears them in “smart” situations,” Nat exaggerated the air quotes. 

“Yes! That’s the spirit.” Perry clapped his hands loudly, “That’s the Nat I know. Now get yourself down to MSG before Adam takes all the credit on this story.”  

Nat nodded, “no pressure, though, right?” 

“No pressure,” Perry smoothed his tie as he settled back into his chair, “just help me shut Miller up. And MacCormack? As my daughter would say: Team Mac.” Perry pumped his fist in the air as Nat slipped out of the office and closed the door softly behind herself. 

&& 

Nat stretched the eight-minute walk from the New York Times Building on 41st to Madison Square Garden on Pennsylvania Avenue to a painful 15-minute slog. Catching her harried reflection in nearly every storefront window as she blew huffing breaths out, Nat clutched the strap of her purse until her knuckles were white.  

The promise of Lenny’s job and Perry’s praises propelled her forward, her thoughts trained on the job security as she repeated the mantra in her head. Asshat with a fancy diploma. Sweeping a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, Nat hurried across the street against the crossing light, dodging a honking yellow cab as an NYFD truck screamed past her going the opposite direction. Asshat with a fancy diploma – it was all Adam was to her now and the sooner she could wrap the last three years up in a fancy little package with a bow on top, the better.  

Legging it up the short flight of stone steps, Nat fluidly stepped through the glass doors and into the entrance of Madison Square Garden before she could talk herself out of it.  

Leaning against the front security desk, Nat watched from across the lobby as Adam chatted animatedly with the security staff. Taking a deep breath, Nat allowed it to leave her mouth nosily. Just this one last story with Adam. For Perry.  

“Nattie.” Adam straightened as she approached him, his 6’ frame swallowing her small 5’4 stature as he wrapped his arms around her so that she was crushed against his chest. Part of Nat relaxed reflexively, and it was all she could do to stop herself from looping her arms around his waist and resting her head squarely on his chest like she had done for the better part of the last three years. The smell of the cologne she’d bought him last Christmas swirled about her - the feeling of the knife twisting in her chest shook her back to the present. 

“I got your press pass,” Adam reached toward Nat as they parted, carefully clipping the badge to the breast pocket of her blouse, the tip of his finger gingerly tracing around the edge of the plasticized credentials. “I’m really glad Perry put you on this with me. Things were just – weird the last time we saw each other, you know?” 

“We should get to the press conference.” Nat asserted, clearing her throat past the lump growing there. The quicker this was over, the better. 

“All media – 5th floor press room.” The security guard recited monotonously, motioning briefly toward the set of stairs behind the desk. 

“Thanks Denton, my man,” Adam reached across the desk to clap the middle-aged man on the shoulder, his stupid perfect teeth gleaming as he smiled in the charming way Nat once found so alluring. 

“You know,” Adam began as he corralled Nat toward the stairs, his hand hovering just over the small of her back. “I should really be thanking you.” 

“For?” Nat pretended to adjust the press pass pinned to the breast of her shirt, her eyes focused anywhere but on Adam as he started to ascend the stairs ahead of her. At the top of the stairs, he stopped and angled himself toward her. 

“Inez.” 

The gut punch feeling surfaced all too quickly so that Nat had to swallow hard to breathe past the growing lump in her throat and shove her hands into her pockets to hide that they shook. Eyes on the floor, Nat moved closer to the group of journalists, ones she recognized from The New York Post and The New York Daily News, as they crowded outside the press room. Adam moved with her, always just ahead of her. 

“It just feels so...” Adam’s hands milled in the air, his eyes searching the ether for the word he couldn’t quite grasp, “serendipitous. Like it was always meant to be her and I, ya know? She’s really something else. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” 

“I -” Nat opened her mouth and then closed it several times, her breath loud in her own ears so it was all she could hear. Nat once thought that Adam’s blunt honesty was something endearing – he would never lie to her, she’d thought. It had been refreshing, the to-the-point candour after dates where men had lied to impress her. Now, she saw the teeth behind it, now it was just cruelty hidden by the thinnest veil of kindness. 

“I’m so glad we can be mature about this.” Adam’s hand rested squarely on Nat’s shoulder as he stepped in front of her, squeezing once and then twice in a familiar way that made her want to vomit. “I really think we can all move past this and see it was just Lady Fate working out the endgame.” 

Nat opened her mouth to speak again, her eyes drawing up so that she could just see the dimple she used to love on Adam’s chin. 

“The boys are ready for you,” a middle-aged man popped his head out the press room doorway, the gleam of the lighting above reflecting off his smooth, hairless head. As he kicked the door open, the group of reporters moved forward toward the doorway with an excited burst of chatter. 

Adam straightened as he buttoned up the jacket he wore before he adjusted the press pass and gave it a little tap. “Oh, one more thing, Nattie. You should really reach out to Inez. She’s just been an absolute wreck since the, well, you know. She just wants to hear that you’re giving us your blessing. You’ll do that, won’t you?” 

The double ping of the phone in her pocket shook Nat from the moment just long enough that she instinctively reached for the device. 

Flights to London, UK just got cheaper! The small bubble hung at the top of her phone for a moment before disappearing as the device went to sleep again. In the darkened screen, Nat caught her own reflection, the dark bags under her eyes she had tried to cover up with concealer that morning, the flyaway hair from her hurried walk over here. Asshat with a fancy diploma. Perry’s words echoed in her mind for a moment, followed swiftly by Zoreaux’s: You’d be in London in 7 hours and in Richmond by morning. 

Fuck it. 

Nat pocketed her phone and turned swiftly on her heel, her legs beginning to carry her away before she realized what she was doing. 

“Nattie?” Adam called after her in a rasp, “where the hell do you think you’re going? I thought we were being mature about this!”  

Ripping off the press pass with a snap of the clip as it came away from her shirt, Nat dropped it in the trash can before she descended the stairs as quick as her feet would carry her. 

“C’mon Natalie,” Nat could hear Adam’s footsteps behind her on the stairs, “Perry only gave me this interview if you were here.” 

“Goodbye, Adam.” Nat called without looking back. 

A/N: feedback is my love language.

[frazzledsoul]

Occasionally I'll run across an insane comment (usually on Instagram) that says something to the effect of "all of Rory's bad behavior and questionable decisions are the fault of the S7 writers, ASP would never write anything like that!"

I've also seen the new writing team accused of writing AYITL and that ASP was responsible for the much more optimistic and close-ended series finale.

Is there anything the dastardly S7 writers aren't guilty of, including forcing Milo to get a more prestigious job on a bigger network so that he couldn't make guest appearances anymore? (Wait, no, they've been accused of that, too). But I digress. That is not the point here.

The point is that Rory is fairly unproblematic in season 7. She is arguably at her most mature and stable during that season. She's in a stable relationship where she and her partner can have arguments and the world does not end. The relationship is long-distance, but when left to her own devices she doesn't go out and cheat, but instead makes new friends for the first time since high school (this is more compelling in theory than execution, but I appreciate the attempt). She is offered other opportunities to stray but doesn't take them. She has conversations with her partner about how it's important to remain faithful and honest (this would never, ever happen if the Palladinos were in charge). She calls Lorelai and Logan on their bullshit but doesn't stop talking to them. When she makes bad professional decisions, she reassesses and tries to get another job. She doesn't give up on Logan after the impromptu proposal, but asks to resume their long-distance relationship. She leaves the series on good terms with almost everyone she knows and seems to be a grown-up.

This is not to say she was perfect (what the fuck is up with denying Gigi's existence AGAIN?!?) but it is a vast improvement from the previous three seasons.

Unfortunately, all that growth was reversed when ASP was in charge again. She basically rewrote her season 6 plotline, which requires Luke and Lorelai to have communication problems, Rory to be adrift and confused after enconscing herself in Logan's lifestyle, for Jess to swoop in, charm her with his stability and overall hipster dreaminess, and set her on the right path professionally, and for Logan to make his way into her orbit once again when she's getting her shit together. Everything is the same as it was, so what was the season in between going to be about? I know what a lot of the fans wanted (a Rory/Logan/Jess infidelity plotline despite Jess's prior protestations and Luke and Lorelai somehow forgetting the Christopher incident right away, though it seems like the first plot thread won't lead anywhere positive and the second doesn't sound realistic) and I don't agree...but whatever was supposed to happen in ASP's head didn't take, which is why things went back to where they were. So who exactly is at fault for these storylines showing one of their main characters at her worst? I don't think it's the people who let her progress and become more of an adult, because they weren't working towards a "tragic" plot twist for an ending.

Honestly, I think the show could have improved from some Jess appearances in season 7, but it doesn't have to be about Rory. He has a new half-sister, he has a newly discovered cousin, and we tragically never got his opinion on the Luke/Lorelai soap opera or saw any scenes with just him and his mom. He's got his own life too and it would be nice to have some updates about that. His primary anchor to Stars Hollow (and to us) in the latter seasons is through Luke, not Rory, and we know that relationship has developed in between S6 and AYITL so it would be nice to see how he replaced Liz as Luke's confidante and how he got to a place where he's a support system to his mom. And yes, I think his relationship with Rory could have benefitted by them being friends while she's in a stable relationship when someone else instead of repeating this love triangle drama again. It would be much easier for them to start over (if the narrative permitted it) after she had broken up with Logan and got to keep her character growth than it would be post AYITL, when the lifestyle and morality issues seem to have placed them even further apart (and yeah, there's a baby involved now, too).

But, alas. I know it wouldn't have happened, because Milo was not available. I also know that Matt Czuchry was signed as a regular for the season 8 with the new writers that never happened, so Rory and Logan would likely have reconciled if they had gotten another season. So it's just a nice dream. I guess I can headcanon all that other Jess stuff, though.

To be honest, though? The S7 writers were much kinder to Rory and tried to make her into a better person and learn from her mistakes. ASP did not.

[xtrablak674]

Finding Your Tribe

Initially I had come across the image during my morning Tumblr'ing, and as I was wont to do I was doing a reverse image search to find a higher quality version of the image. I mean if I am going to download smut, better have a good-looking version of said smut. During my search I had come across the young man's Twitter account and prayed to my goddess that I wouldn't have to scroll long to get to the image I was looking for.

The thing about scrolling through someone's social media is you get a sense of the person, even if it's a highly curated and polished version. Its the version that they would like the world to see. One thing that became immediately apparent to me is that this curly-haired light-eyed sort of middling looking young man had found his tribe.

His "friends", because I am not sure what the kids are calling them these days, especially when the lines between plutonic and sexual were so clearly blurred, were clearly of the same tribe. Young people and others who had similar sexual interest and also loved documenting their merry-making in photographs, gifs and videos. Celebrating their lust and loves in a very public fashion. It had me very curious what these misfits did for work, because clearly they didn't care that their faces with dick in mouth were on very open display for all to see.

I could map the similar aesthetic between them, artsy but alternative, definitely not the main-stream gays that colour places like Chelsea but the on-the-edge queers who would exist in places like Bushwick barely boarding on being hipsters but divergent enough to be their own sub-genre of gay. Whereas a Manhattan gay may brag about wearing Prada and Louis Vuitton these ones would thrive in a new piece thrifted at L Train Vintage, never caring for those luxury brands but finding solace in their grandfather's old boots or jacket, paired with their grandma's pearls.

After watching the twelfth episode of Tracker last night where Colter finally met up with his wayward and possibly murderous older brother Russell, this made me think of the last time I had a tribe to speak of. And it would be back when my mom was still alive and I lived with my two younger siblings. It was the only time in my life I had a true connection to someone else around me, and albeit after her passing and our separation I would never truly find anything remotely the same.

In college I had a "crew" of sort largely based around the terraces where I lived my freshman year at this private college in upstate New York. They were gay, like I was at the time, some were lower-class like I thought I was, and would only later find out I was actually middle-class. None were of color, which then made me a novelty of sorts. I recall quite often being quizzed about how to use the language these upper-class queers had just learned from Jennie Livingston's infamous documentary Paris is Burning.

Ms. Trevor how do I say FIERCE? And what exactly is shade? Girl, teach me how to vogue! I mean I did my best to hobble together bits an pieces from my short-lived foray in the queer culture of New York City, which I had only really begin to explore the peaks of in my last two years in high school right in the middle of Manhattan. But this didn't feel exactly like my tribe, I seemed to be torn between allegiance to the HEOP Black kids on campus and the LGBT queer kids, not totally fitting in with either because of either class, orientation, how I preformed gender or how I performed race.

Post-college I continued the activism I had started moving into HIV/AIDS education through GMHC. Joining their youth program which was made up of primarily of other post-college kids but unlike upstate was more diverse having more woman, Black and people of color in its ranks. I can say I felt a connection to these young people as we tried our best to educate others our age and younger about how to navigate the complexities of trying to stay safe while being a young queer.

I have always had very mixed feelings about work relationships and albeit there are some people I met at my first advertising agency job that I would connect with an be friends with years after I left that company. I am not sure any of those relationship had a tribal feel to them.

My next significant connections would be to small or micro-business owners I had associated with through a non-profit that was out to help us with micro-loans. I was never really interested in the loans having long had an aversion to debt, but I did like the fellowship with the mostly Black business owners and using my own brand design business to help these folks out, at least with the visual aspects of their own brands.

But like all things that passed too.

The last fifteen years I have been a loner, most of my friendships drifting a part for one reason or another. I even stopped dating and then sexual relations too. It is a popular platitude to say to young people that you will find your tribe, I just haven't found that to be true. It has felt like all throughout my life I have had to partition pieces of myself to be accepted in certain areas. Even my fifteen year stay on Flickr seemed to be primarily based on folks sexual desires towards me, not really seeing me as a whole but just parts of a whole.

At this point I have let it all go, and find solace and comfort in my own company or in having parasocial relationships with the characters in my comics, books or television shows. If a tribe is a thing, its a thing that has always eluded me, maybe my not being able to compromise my values to 'group think' and allow folks to make me feel less than I am has not allowed me to assimilate into a group dynamic. Maybe my strong sense of self and moral aptitude and not ever being one to succumb to peer pressure or other ill-conceived notions has left me adrift. I am not sure I will ever understand how to be a part of a group.

My nephew was talking to me last week about this group chat, and I thought I have never been in anyone group anything. Even my attempts to start them have failed, like the group I created on Facebook for my fellow grand jury members. I thought we had an amazing eighteen month together, but I think afterwards we became the strangers that we were before. This has been the rhythm of my life since my mom died and I truly don't think it will ever change, and curiously I am okay with that.

Albeit our society loves to preach about how important relationships with others are I have found I think the most important relationship you can have is one with yourself, one unbound by pretense, pretensions and falsehoods. One unencumbered by expectations, animosity and aggression. One that lies in seeing who you are and appreciating all aspect of whom that person is and what they bring to the table never asking them to select which pieces are the most suitable for acceptance. But embracing, loving and encouraging them to come as they are and be welcomed.

[Photo by Brown Estate]

[marvinthemillennialmouse]

Thoughts on Marvin Lore - part 8

Whenever you see something happening that's pretty strange and hard to explain--and you get to the thought "maybe it's aliens!" trust me... it's not.

For starters, we know how to evade all your detection technology. If you have anything that can spot us, you deserve to catch us. You just haven't yet.

We aren't interested in taking over your world. At least... not yet. Who knows what the corporate overlords back on Mars will decide is the next most profitable business venture?

No, we're not crash landing here and getting caught by the government, we've already set up a channel of communication for things like visiting groups, resident aliens (literally), and even permanent residents.

I'm on a B-15 master card (get it? visa? master card? it's a funny joke and if you're not laughing, check your pulse, you might be dead) which says that I'm allowed to live here so long as I don't try to influence society to my culture's way of life.

Pffff... right... like there's any chance of that.

If anything YOUR culture has influenced ME to influence YOU BACK to push you even more to the left because I'll be damned if I come to this mudball only to have it turn into MARS.

Seriously... y'all are kind of on your way to it. You need to fix the whole global warming situation pronto.

Anyway, the whole "IT'S ALIENS!!!" thing is so played out, boring, and tired. I wish the people pushing this nonsense would find another hobby because I'm tired of feeling like I can't tell more of my friends that I ain't from around here.

Y'all have a saying, "extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof" and damn is that a good saying. So when some dude sits in front of a panel of big spooky important people and gets asked a bunch of questions dancing around "WAS IT ALIENS!?!" and he basically says yes... maybe don't jump straight to "IT WAS ALIENS!!" because I've looked into it. I've even had a few folks at the Alien Affairs Agency drop me a line wanting me to vet weirdos like him.

It's. Never. Aliens.

Unless it is. Like me. We won't be flying around, getting shot down, getting captured by the military and having our technology and biology reverse engineered.

We're going to be sight seeing, visiting your theme parks and resorts and tourist attractions, maybe picking someone up at a bar and then taking them back to our spaceship for a night of dirty, nasty, core-memory-forming probing/sex.

Me, I run a second-hand bookshop where I kick out fascists and nazis on sight because fuck them. I also run a side-business that I only tell select few people about depending on their needs and if they can be trusted to keep a secret.

"Hey, that's a nice gender you got there, would be a shame if somethin' were ta happen to it... you want some gender insurance? For just a few bucks, I can get you set up with whatever gender you want and help you keep it that way."

If you can't make the hormones you want from scratch, storebought is fine, and mine are artisanal crafted or whatever the hipsters call it. Whatever, it's sweet magical super-science and it will make your day... just be aware it might be a really weird day... for a few days. Maybe a week. Still working on the side effects.

[crossedwithblue]

4, 23, 46!

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

A pleasure to have in class 💀

Also, 'daydreams too much' (that one was on my recommendation when I moved school, until my mum made them take it off lmaooo)

23. strange habits?

Hmm this is a tricky one, I don't know what counts as strange! Probably the reverse-hipsterism, where I chronically come to popular things late - like, I just started regularly doing Wordle a few weeks ago! Maybe also the insistence on having painted nails and (in healthier times, when it didn't give me a headache) quirky earrings, but not otherwise caring about fashion all that much.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Oooh so atm I've been finding old-fashion nightdresses really comfy, since they don't put any pressure on my back at all. Normally though, an old t-shirt or tunic top + comfy sweatpants or cotton trousers.

[tokiro07]

I couldn’t find any on your blog yet so, have you done some sort of analysis on Kamome and the “hipster archetype” yet? I recently read linkspooky’s post on Tsurubami and how he plays with both types of “anti-hero” but I saw that he didn’t mention an aspect of Kamome: a rather interesting take on the “hipster” character type.

I think I might be the wrong person to ask about this on the basis that I'm not too familiar with the sheer concept of hipsters

I have a very specific idea in my head of what qualifies as a hipster, that being the "I liked it before it was cool" type who almost fetishize being misunderstood because it gives them a feeling of superiority for enjoying things that the plebians can't wrap their small minds around

Is that an accurate description of hipsters? I'm willing to bet it isn't, but it's definitely the stereotype that tumblr drilled into my brain a literal decade ago

If I'm even remotely close, though, I don't think Tsurubami really counts as a hipster. To me, he's always seemed more like...the reverse of a chuunibyou, almost. Like he doesn't really see himself as being different or special because he can do things that others can't, but rather he feigns being normal. He wants so desperately to be recognized as a mature adult that he eschews anything that he perceives as being "childish," exemplified by his distaste for Weekly Shonen Jump

The joke, though, is that in lieu of Shonen Jump, his manga anthology of choice is Jump Square, literally formerly known as "Monthly Shonen Jump." Square does get away with a bit more adult-oriented content than WSJ, but ultimately it's still a shonen magazine, aimed at exactly the same demographic. Reading it doesn't make him more of an adult, and acting like it does makes him more of a child

I don't know the context of Tsurubami's character from Nisio Isin's perspective, sadly; for all I know he was meant as a direct response to some of his own critics or to a wave of young readers transitioning from Jump to SQ at the time. If there's ever been an interview or anything where Nisio explained that, I'd love to hear it

What I do know, though, is the context of Tsurubami within Medaka Box; he mentions liking SQ in direct response to being asked if he likes Jump, which Hitoyoshi was using as a litmus test for whether or not Tsurubami was a Minus. Saying that he preferred SQ over Jump definitively signaled to Hitoyoshi that he wasn't, but we learned later that technically Tsurubami is in fact a Minus, he's just also a Plus and a Stylist. Plus Abnormals are typically characterized by a superiority complex, and Minuses are often depicted with a regressive and juvenile interest in shonen manga, so Tsurubami's interest in shonen while also denying it on the basis that he reads something "more mature" leans into both concepts: "I love shonen manga, but I'm better than those losers because I read shonen manga for grownups." He has a regressive and juvenile understanding of the medium he enjoys and uses that to elevate himself above others - a blending of both Plus and Minus without leading himself into the contradiction of having both a superiority and inferiority complex

It also bleeds into his general personality as well, because he's haughtily childish about most everything. We see this specifically when he's soundly beaten by Medaka and refuses to accept the loss on the basis that there were no rules put into place; his childish pedantry feels not dissimilar from a Minus', but he's definitely being prideful and snobbish about it like a Plus would be. Minuses are always smiling and optimistic, they don't let defeats get them down, because it's normal for them, but Tsurubami protests his loss completely joylessly and matter-of-factly, meaning he knows full well that he lost but just won't admit it

In short, Tsurubami may or may not be a hipster, but he is definitely a big baby