#i say. as if i'm thinking about any of them <- repression

[naamahdarling]

Cranking your hog with children in the house also upsets these people, btw.

The idea of pleasure as addictive is so fucking toxic. Wanking isn't bad.

It can be a compulsive and destructive behavior, that isn't disputed, compulsive behaviors are disorders, and compulsive behaviors are certainly present in some but not all cases of various addictions, but there are major components of addiction (diminishing returns in the pleasure center of the brain -- the brain does not seem to exhibit this wrt masturbation -- physical dependence, risk to health and life) that are never present in these people. Treating it like an addiction does not work and in fact causes people harm. Calling it an addiction is inaccurate and irresponsible. It may seem like splitting a hair, but it isn't. It's very important.

Studies have shown a very common element in the distress associated with "sex/porn addiction" is religiosity and shame. Not just being someone who masturbates. It seems like the culture of shame and repression is the toxic factor here.

"Food noise" is...hmm. I have very low dopamine, and so I think about food A Whole Fucking Lot, or I did until I got my dose of ADHD meds raised and it stopped. Which was nice, I won't lie. So I've experienced what people would probably label as "food noise". But I'm skeptical of its validity as a problem on the scale people are now talking about it being, because even if we grant that thinking about food all the time to the point that it becomes genuinely upsetting is a thing, we have such a dysfunctional and unrealistic cultural relationship with food that I don't trust ANY mainstream discussion or medical discussion about how we eat not to be deeply, deeply unhealthy.

It's the same with sex negativity, which is having a revival even among left-leaning people. You cannot have a rational and healthy discussion about sex OR food in a social climate that deems sexuality as gross and inherently damaging and food as a vice and fatness as a massive character flaw. I'm absolutely not going to be able to meaningfully discuss "porn addiction" or "sex addiction" with people who have a really fucked-up relationship to the idea of other people's sexual habits. I also don't trust people whose knowledge of psychology, sexual psychology, and addiction comes primarily from the internet. I don't trust much of what psychology says about it, either! If you don't think people should get their sex ed from porn, you also should not think that people should get their information about sex and addiction from talk shows and wellness sites, social media, Facebook, Reddit, etc.. There is a large and growing body of evidence that calling this "addiction" is inaccurate and inappropriate and leads to crap outcomes in treatment, which people exhibiting compulsive behavior do need help with.

Fuck it. I don't trust ANY talk about things we culturally consider nasty, indulgent, immoral, immoderate, etc. People just can't fucking cope with the idea that human beings should be allowed to do pleasurable things that aren't causing them distress or negatively impacting anyone else. Someone being bothered by the idea of a coworker's UNCONFIRMED daily masturbation -- during what is likely the only breathing room he gets away from kids and an insufferable-sounding wife that judges him so hard she'll bring it up to strangers -- does not count as being negatively impacted.

I think people should be left the fuck alone and allowed to do what they want with their bodies.

This is not an addiction

[menlove]

Hello! I saw your post about how you deeply believe that John and Paul had sex frequently, and honestly I'm on the fence on whether or not I believe that they did. I was wondering if there were any particular reasons as to why you believe this or if it was just a feeling lol.

there's fsdfasdadf a lot To Me that convinces me but i'm not sure how solid it is so i'd say it's Mostly a feeling/vibe but i'll work through my reasoning under the cut (separated into The Vibes and then actual shit they've said/done that makes me go uh. hm.)

disclaimer: obviously i can't know if they fucked. at the end of the day it truly does not have any impact on my life if they did or not. this is also solely getting into whether or not they fucked, not the rest of the crazy shit they had going on bc that would genuinely take a 1000 page novel. i'm also not getting into proof about either one of them having gay sex bc if we take them both at face value that answer is a resounding "no" and this isn't about proving their queerness

i will say first of all we know for a fact they jerked off together & had sex in the same bed so i'm gonna go ahead and count that as sex bc it's 2025 and queer people have made leaps and bounds away from considering penetrative sex the only kind of sex that exists. but i don't think they would've considered either of those things sex. but in my view? that was sex. does also mean they've had sex with the other quarrymen though #happypride

vibes

first of for me is their personalities/circumstances. i mean it's obviously all very nuanced and i never knew them so there's aspects to their personalities that we obviously aren't privy to. but they were both very sexual people with incredibly loose sexual boundaries, neither of whom really ever had (or at least expressed) religious hangups around sex, and who were Both at the like forefront of the whole changing culture of the 60s to become freer, looser, less repressed. obviously them being free with heterosexual sex doesn't automatically equate to them having the same feelings about homosexual sex, but it's a factor in the way i think about it anyway.

we already know they were loose with sex with Each Other as well. there's ofc the beat the meatles thing (group wanking with the quarrymen/early beatles) but there's also the fact that they'd all have sex in the same tiny ass room in hamburg & the fact that john and paul allegedly had a foursome with a couple of girls whose pictures they took back in liverpool (on the same bed). again, that doesn't Necessarily translate to "yeah they'd have gay sex" but it just sets up that they weren't really prudish about sex and they weren't shy about having sex around/near each other. there's ALSO a different version of the story john told to pete floating around somewhere (can't find it rn so don't quote me on this) where in addition to everything else he mentions it (as in letting brian jerk him off) not being different than what he does with his friends. which does also implicate everyone Else, not just paul, but it's interesting.

i just do Not think that john would've had the self restraint to not make a move on paul if he wanted to. and from Well Everything, we can tell that he wanted to. john wasn't someone who had a lot of self control & i don't think his relationship to paul being "too important" or anything like that would've stopped him either. and i think if he'd made a move & paul shot him down, we would have never heard the end of it and there would've never been the beatles in the first place bc i don't think john would've taken it well at all. on paul's end, i can't see him turning john down either. if they were already jerking off together, potentially jerking each other off, having sex in the same bed, etc, i don't think it's a stretch to say he wouldn't have shoved john off for going further. and again, if he had, there would've been a more dramatic reaction. which means either john Never made a move, or he did & paul went with it.

ofc there's the whole india theory but i do not buy into that even remotely and i'm not getting into why again but tl;dr i just don't think it would be in character for Either of them to have this big dramatic rejection of john's feelings and for john to wait and simmer in it for 2 years before breaking up the band. i think if anything like that happened he would've lost his goddamn mind immediately and the band wouldn't have made it beyond like two more months lmao

i can however see paul making a move and john shooting it down due to His Issues, but i don't really see any time period where that would've potentially happened yk like there's not enough there to speculate on that one. but i can see it more than the opposite

they were also on so, so many drugs. you take two people with loose sexual boundaries and you put them on uppers/alcohol/weed/lsd/coke and i truly think it's more unlikely that they didn't ever fuck. i think most anyone who regularly gets drunk/high has at least one story about making out with/fucking someone they shouldn't. oftentimes when you can't remember shit.

there's also the severe lack of personal space between them & just the way they watch each other. ofc there's a severe lack of space between All the beatles, but it's glaringly obvious and embarrassing when they're all 4 in the same space and the blowjob brothers are over there ass to dick while everyone else has a respectable friend distance.

i won't put a photo/gif dump here i'm sure we've all seen them but this is the single one i have to add bc genuinely what is their problem:

and the way paul stops and then looks over at john after noticing he's watching his ass? they're as subtle as a brick to the head lmfao

tl;dr on the vibes: it's a if you give a mouse a cookie situation to me. if john was attracted to paul (he was), he would've made a move -> if john made a move on paul, paul would've said yes -> if paul had said no, there would have been 0 way john would've just gone on like normal -> nothing ever blew up like that sooo -> i think they fucked (in our definition- idfk what they would count it as). throw in their drug use & lack of personal space................

actual shit w substance

i don't think unless john's diaries leak or paul slips in his old age that we're Ever going to get any kind of Actual confirmation about if they did or did not have a sexual relationship of any kind. BUT there are some things that make me go. well okay !

and a disclaimer i don't think this is the only way you can interpret these things and i'm well aware i look like this rn

i mean this so seriously when i say the thing that convinced me they did actually fuck was john's real love (real life) demo. we know he's talking about paul bc he says "was i just dreaming, or was it only yesterday? i used to hold you in my arms. and now a baby and another on the way la la la farm" and then the added fact from this post that the daily news from that same year around the time john would've made this demo has a page dedicated to linda & paul expecting a new baby and in the same paper it's talking about cruises. which in the demo he says "picked up the paper, read the daily news, nothing doing anyway, same old bs, doot doot doot doot cruise." so we've got him singing about someone he used to hold in his arms that now has another baby on the way on a farm, which he found out about reading the daily news that mentioned cruises. when there was a paper from that day from the daily news announcing that linda & paul were expecting and talking about cruises. so i can say with confidence that he's talking about paul there. unless he was just wildly in love with linda lmfao. and of course "i used to hold you in my arms" doesn't exactly translate to "i fucked you" but like......????? there's really not much else you can infer from that. the rest of it is true to reality, so why would he embellish that bit with something he wished happened? why would he wished to have held him and then lost him anyway? and like it'd just be a weird thing to say about a platonic friend. i can't exactly imagine them just platonically laying around cuddling. i mean sure, maybe, but come on.

speaking of john's demos, there's also his weird paris shit (ignore that title lmfao. it is definitely a real demo & i actually accidentally own it on vinyl- it was one that got leaked during the lost lennon tapes). in it, he's singing to "my pau pau" about his little prod (lmfao) at a cafe on the left bank (hysterically also the title of a wings song ABOUT john and paul's trip to paris). i mean does that mean they fucked? maybe not. but also fucking bizarre to refer to your friend as "my pau pau" and start talking about his little dick while calling him my cheri..... like. again. come on.

speaking of paris there's also the whole skywriting by word of mouth thing. this one's the loosest bc it's fictional, but john based a lot of the sexual stories in skywriting by word of mouth on his own sexual exploits. also realizing for some reason i didn't put this in the original post, but leading up to the paris bit, it describes the man as a journalist who's in the middle of writing a play. but tl;dr on that link: john wrote a short story full of references to gay sex/gay culture about a man leaving writing a play to meet up with his lover in paris where they stay at the george v and fuck to god only knows. in 1966, john left filming how i won the war to meet up with paul in paris and they stayed at the george v. that's the same year pet sounds came out & paul got obsessed with god only knows as well. now this one could Also be taking the details of a very platonic meetup (paul did have one of his girlfriends, maggie mcgivern, with him) and adding a sexual connotation to them retroactively, but....................

i'm also throwing this paul song into the mix bc .....????? sure man. i'll also throw let me roll it into that category bc of the "he gave me loving in the palm of my hand" thing like okay man. i'm sure he did. and best friend/call me back again are just self explanatory.

this one is EXTREMELY loose and i don't believe 99% of them but there Are a ton of rumors/blind items if you go digging around about them kind of openly fucking during the 60s (as well as paul & linda having threesomes with men lmao). not linking those bc i wouldn't count them as even a remotely reliable source but they exist and all say just about the same thing

am i 100% certain they fucked? i mean no. but it just seems way less likely to me that they didn't. and i've seen historical narratives built on less so i'm gonna go on w my interpretation that they did fuck nasty in whatever way

[jackwolfes]

do you have buddie fic recs? i’ve been loving all of yours and hungry for more! id be especially interested in ones that don’t have emergency scenario disasters (don’t like blood but i love gay sex so uhhh this is for sure the ship for me) or them talking through their feelings and also any crazy ass sex like the most insane smut. what are you reading in the buddie world these days? thank u love u hope your day is lovely!

man I've kind of been reading nothing but buddie fics for the past two months so this is an apt request!!! and also thank you I'm really glad you liked the ones I've written 😊 anyway, here's a whole bunch:

feeling my way back to you by markofalover (T, 4.3k)

Not smut at all but this is a very cute teacher!buck / firefighter!Eddie fic

rough riders by symphonysoldier97 (E, 11.2k)

This IS smut. early stage relationship with lots of feelings and also good sex, framed around eddie's copious issues and also bdsm

come take a dive by organyx (E, 12.4k)

Hear me out #1: Eddie's dick gets magic'd away. in my opinion, and as a genderqueer reader, this fic does some very interesting things with dysphoria and eddie's whole repressed shtick (some of these recs have a theme, don't @ me)

curl up in my heart and let me keep you by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (T, 10.5k)

Magic!Buck who turns himself into a cat every so often. from the lawsuit era to like, mid season 5. For most of the fic this is them expressly refusing to talk about their feelings but it works.

i'll eat you instead of chocolate (you're sweeter anyhow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (E, 28.7k)

Hear me out #2: this is the ideal fic for me in the sense that it blends humour and really charming slice of life comedy that makes me enjoy the show with some solid AU themes, a lot of stupid pining and also very hot sex. But like when the tags say "werewolf sex" they MEAN werewolf sex. so it might not be to everyone's taste.

frequent flyer by whileyouresleeping (M, 13.4k)

I kinda do love an AU where buck isn't a firefighter but I maintain that if he's not a firefighter he kinda has to be having like, a slightly insane bad time. And that's this! it's predominantly not angsty, but it does have some very good hurt/comfort (but not gorey). Also, E rated sequel if you are after smut

bad idea right? by brewrosemilk (E, 6.7k)

canon divergent wherein buddie are still colleagues/BFFs but also making poor choices on grindr. i don't usually go for chat style fics because they can be a bit hit or miss IMO, but I think this one is done really well

[vasito-de-leche]

I'm so excited you're interested in kpop demon hunters! Could you possibly write some headcanons for Mira (romantic or just general analysis, whatever works best for you!)

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS MIRA - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Mira and other related things.

anon you dont knwo how much i adore mira shes literally just like me fr shes the moment shes the love of my life shes SOOOOOOO good!!! head in hands kicks my feet starts screaming incoherently oh my god okay

I went with general headcanons so I could start setting the ground for some future posts about her and the rest of the huntrix! feel free to send another ask if you want those relationship headcanons!

On the subject of family and Mira's role within Huntrix.

The movie clearly states that Mira is the visual and lead dancer, so that's not what I'll be tackling in this point--instead it's about the role she fills in her dynamic with Rumi and Zoey, her current family.

The three of them contrast and compliment each other very well, and we can see that they're united by themes of belonging; all three have struggled with finding a place or people that will accept them wholeheartedly, and even after finding each other continue to deal with the consequences of the way they were raised.

While we get the full context of Rumi's background, we don't get that privilege with Mira and Zoey--these two have only one or two moments in which their respective backgrounds are addressed, and most of the time they're left up for interpretation. In Zoey's case, it's a single moment in their Golden music video, which might imply that she's a child of divorce (explaining why she grew up in Burbank and later returned to Korea).

And when it comes to Mira, we get two family pictures and her part in "Golden," which references the very same family picture from the very beginning. She's wearing similar clothes as her family pictures and the dancers from the "Golden" music video are obviously there to represent her family.

We can gleam out a few details about this. She has an older brother, a father and a mother, all three wearing muted and more commonly "acceptable" outfits. The most standard family one could think of.

A fun way I like to interpret these two initial portraits is the way Mira is positioned; in her younger portrait she's sitting on a tall chair, taller than her brother, dressing in a proper and sensible outfit that was most likely picked for her if her expression and body language is anything to go by. Almost as if presenting her as a prop, the idea of what a good child should look like.

Compare this to the second picture; the stark white of her shirt sets her apart right away, and she's still sitting, only this time she's doing it by her own terms and now there's no one to prop her up like a doll. Instead, she's lower than her entire family, a visual metaphor for how they may have treated her as "the black sheep" the second she strayed away from their standards.

I like to headcanon that she's no longer in contact with any of them, and that neither party has made any real attempts at reaching out to the other. This isn't to say that she's fully moved on from her family and their influence, but she strikes me as someone who's fought so hard to love herself despite everything that she simply won't allow anyone to trample her identity. I can absolutely see at least someone from her biological family trying, if only once or twice, just to see if she's "calmed down enough to come back." Or looking her up online to see what she's up to.

From reading various interviews involving the directors, Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans, one of the themes they wanted to portray in the movie was the duality of women--their elegance and power, but also their flaws and less picture perfect lives, hence the silly and goofy moments but also Hunters' song focusing on hiding ones flaws, leading to repression.

We see the pressure of expectation and tradition wear all of Huntrix down in various ways and, in Mira's case, it manifested as her doubling down on the things that set her apart, a confidence to be herself no matter what--at the cost of pushing others away because of said confidence and her "jagged edges."

But when Gwi-ma's voice reaches Mira, the one thing that causes her to fully break away from Huntrix is the concept of family; the idea that she doesn't deserve one.

This alone should speak volumes about how at her core, regardless of the confidence Mira displays to be able to live her truth, she's still someone who wants to be understood and accepted. She's still human.

The way Mira speaks is monotone and flat, the way she presents herself is sharp and aggressive, but she's the first one to notice Rumi's secrets. In her words, she's "an expert at reading people," and I like to attribute this to her upbringing--it becomes very easy to know what others are feeling or thinking when you're often the focus of so much negative attention, when you have no choice but to accept that you will always be on the spotlight simply by being different.

What makes Mira and Zoey raise their weapons at Rumi after she's revealed to have patterns is not the fact that she's a demon, but the fact that she's lied to them for so long. To me, this goes hand in hand with the way Rumi argues with Mira, by bringing up "her insecurities," because the concept of a found family matters so much to Mira.

It's very easy to chalk down Mira as the cool, edgy and aloof of the trio, but the movie makes sure to emphasize that these girls are more than the superficial roles they've been assigned--both as idols and as hunters. Within Huntrix, I like to see Mira as the one who brings up the harder topics, the conversations no one wants to have, to say the things everyone is afraid to say because someone has to do it. Not out of malice, but a genuine care for Rumi and Zoey, and the Huntrix as a band.

On the subject of Celine and becoming a hunter.

I'm prefacing this by saying that I do not like or agree with any portrayals of Celine as a one-dimensional, horrible mother to Rumi.

I believe that is a massive disservice to another theme the story is trying to tell about how trauma leads people to pass on harmful mindsets to their loved ones, and how those future generations might be the ones forced to break the cycle of violence to heal. The problem wasn't Celine, but the pressure ALL hunters had to live through concealing their flaws for the greater good.

So if you dislike Celine as a whole, please feel free to skip this section!

Celine gives little information about hunters as a whole, only mentioning that in each generation, three women are chosen to protect the Honmoon--we know that Rumi was pretty much expected to follow this path, since Huntrix was BUILT around her because of the promise Celine made to her mother.

But as far as I know, there's no information on why or how Mira and Zoey became hunters as well. So it's free real estate until details come out, if they ever do!

I feel it makes sense to have Huntrix be formed like any other K-Pop group, with a bunch of trainees and a handful just making it to their debut and whatnot? But it feels too impersonal just like that. I'd assume that Celine, as the only active Sunshine Sister we know of, would at least have a hand in the process to veto or check over potential candidates to work with Rumi.

Not just as a mentor and prominent figure in the industry, but as a mother trying to find girls that her adoptive daughter could connect with--this is based on her relationship with Rumi's biological mother, and how Celine cared so much for a fellow Sunshine Sister that she went on to raise Rumi, EVEN with all the biases she holds towards demons. If there was such little regard for Rumi, if her biases towards demons had truly won, Rumi wouldn't even be here in the first place.

There is an emphasis on harmony for the hunters that can't be ignored and as a seasoned hunter I believe Celine knows this and could've been the one to pick Zoey and Mira from the other trainees to join Huntrix, because she saw that very same loneliness Rumi carries in them. There is also the way Mira and Zoey perfectly mimic Celine's usual hunter speech, and how they immediately know that seeking her for help is not an option. So she's clearly been around enough.

When it comes to their relationship with Celine, I think Celine doesn't necessarily have to be a mother figure for neither Mira or Zoey, but a strong figure in their lives that they respect, since it's thanks to her that the three were able to meet.

This isn't to say that Celine paved the way for Zoey and Mira to be successful without putting in the work. I like to headcanon that Mira specifically came from a dancing career and naturally switched to music along the way, on one hand because this is something that she loves and on the other because it's the very same careers that were considered too outlandish for a girl like her, according to her families.

I also imagine that the news about ... Hunters and the concept of killing demons and all would have to be brought up relatively soon, at least prior to their debut for sure.

It's very fun to imagine that Celine herself trained all of them to fight, helping them once their unique weapons developed and whatnot, since the first trio of hunters had an entirely different set than Huntrix. This is an entirely new train of thought, but I really like how Huntrix's weapons match them; in Mira's case, she's the tallest and lankiest member, so she gets a tall and lanky weapon to match. It's just very cute to me.

Batch of headcanons I couldn't fit anywhere else.

Contrary to popular belief, Mira was the least bothered by Rumi's secrecy and need for accomodation (we see near the beginning of the movie that Rumi has her own separate dressing room to conceal her patterns). Out of everyone, Mira understands the need to have privacy the most. I saw in one interview that one of Mira's voice actresses believes Mira is way more patient that she lets on, and I agree!

She's bisexual, but hasn't come out to anyone but Huntrix. Not out of shame, but because she's a naturally private person when it comes to her personal life. This contrasts Zoey who is out, loud and proud as a way to make her fans feel seen and is known to oversharing on social media. And then you have Rumi who keeps skirting around the topic because of her repression issues.

Mira is the type of person who binges asian dramas, and she will ramble about the latest episodes to Rumi and Zoey over dinner. She also knows exactly which ones to recommend to people that will make them bawl their eyes out with how crazy good she is at reading others. I like to think at some point she gets the chance to star in one of her favorite shows for a minor role.

[bookwyrminspiration]

they should put a limit on how many identity crises u can have at once. single file line please

[vaguely-concerned]

few things bring me as much joy as my rook's expressive capacity for sudden withering disdain. (he's looking at illario here, of course lmao.) he's so hey i'm just a little guy...🥺 coded most of the time and then someone says something dumb enough that the mask cracks for a moment and every line of him says 'that is the stupidest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me and I'm aggrieved to even have had to hear it'. rye is mostly very kind but there IS a bastard lurking in his head waiting to be let out as well. not just solas but solas too I suppose. two bastards in rye ingellvar's head they keep each other company and are trying to strangle each other as we speak 😌.

(vs. him looking over at lucanis a moment later during the same line delivery. since lucanis was actively into viago once I cannot imagine that getting to watch rye crack and be kind of mean to people who've earned it when too sorely tried is like. entirely without allure to him fhskjadf. witnessing illario pulling the old ingratiating 'rooook reason with him would you~ I'm the cousin with the charisma stats' routine and This being rook's response probably opened some as of yet ill-understood '...I think I hauve covid' corners of lucanis' soul. tfw your buddy has your back so completely (dawning erotic implications))

[greencarnation]

Here is a plot of education resources around Palestine that you can check out if you want to know more. It's completely free and accessable, there's a whole range of books and pdfs available, it will help you to understand what's going on, the context behind it, and what you can do. Please take a look (from milochite on tiktok)

[robinsnest2111]

idly wondering with what experts would diagnose me if I was 100% truthful and could remember every single thing that happened to me and every single quirk I developed because of it <3

[shidraoftheworldpillar]

Hey I just realized that maybe going a few years without taking care of yourself is probably not normal and a sign of mental problems

[lgbtlunaverse]

I've seen a good number of people ask a question along the lines of "why do characters like Falin and hate Laios when they're so similar?" and i've also seen good analysis on the differences in how the touden siblings carry themselves that would, despite their shared traits, make a person gravitate to one more than the other.

But i feel like we've overseen one very central thing here.

People don't like Falin

Like... the average person in dungeon meshi doesn't like Falin. She was deeply ostrasized by her home village, in magic school she had zero friends before Marcille and the others generally saw her as strange and a bit offputting.

Characters like Namari and Chilchuck like her well enough but not necessarily more than any other member of their party, including Laios. Neither Kabru nor his party think much of her. The canaries don't give a fuck about her. Toshiro's retainers don't see her as anything else than the weird foreign girl their boss has a crush on.

The reason we think everyone loves Falin is because, despite all the indifferent side characters, the 2 most important and central characters of the story are Laios and Marcille. Who are NOT representative of the average attitudes to Falin! But necromancy georg number 1 and 2 are our main eyes into the story and they love Falin so much that it colours our perspective of the whole world.

The only side character who qualifies as liking Falin and not Laios is Toshiro (at least at first, as he ends the story on much better terms with Laios) and that says a lot about his character, with him drifting to the quiet Falin precisely because of her oddness but being both uncomfortable with and deeply jealous of Laios' much more open expression of that oddness. Because he's a repressed guy from a culture where etiquette is incredibly important.

But like I said, that's a specific aspect of him, not to the world at large.

Because there's also people that click more with laios than with Falin.

Kabru, for one, who is initially distrustful of laios but clearly also deeply fascinated by him and drawn to him.

Minor spoilers, and you don't have to read too deeply into this, because I don't think Kabru particularly dislikes Falin or anything. But it's interesting that when he talks about his distrust of the toudens in ch.32 he's talking about them both. But his big friendship declaration in chapter 76 is aimed squarely at Laios, he doesn't say "you and your sister" he says "you"

And Senshi!! He instantly clicks with Laios, well before he does so with anyone else in the party– who he also becomes friends with, it just takes a bit longer– specifically because they bond over their shared special interest in monsters!! Senshi is kind towards Falin and cares for her wellbeing, but he also... doesn't know her. The reason he is even here, helping to save her, is because he and Laios bonded over monsters and he wants to help his new friends out!

Of course, the theme of neurodivergent isolation is very present in Laios' story. I'm not denying that. He does turn people off, without meaning to and unable to fully understand why! But so does Falin. And just like there are people who like her despite of or even because of those traits, there are people who do the same with him.

In conclusion: "Average person loves Falin and hates Laios" factoid actually statistical error. Average person is neutral on both Falin and Laios. Georcille, Laiorg and Geoshiro, who live in the dungeon and think over 10,000 Falin-loving thoughts a day, are statistical outliers adn should not have been counted.

[annabelle--cane]

I think the tma characters generally Know about contemporary queer labels and identities, they're really not that old and jon uses language like "male presenting" and georgie and melanie have jobs that require them to be very on social media. it's not out of the question that any of them might have pride stickers on their laptops or would introduce themselves with their pronouns if they thought the social situation was relaxed and gay enough. the important and beautiful thing to remember is that this does not preclude any of them from having extremely weird internalized queerphobia and very repressed relationships with their gender and sexuality, because I am a young adult in the year of our lord two thousand and twenty five and I know plenty of people with those exact problems. jon can know what the colors on the asexual flag mean and be casual friends with trans people and still turn around and say "well my issues with sex and my body are because I'm uhhh a fucked up little freak? probably?" and that wouldn't be any contradiction. you don't need to temporally lock him into a mid 90s understanding of queerness, he can be the pinnacle of a modern man and have issues aplenty. x

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

ragatha is NOT abstracting* and i will bury myself six foot under that hill

* well , i don't think she'll FULLY abstract . _____

i know this may be shocking coming from Me , the ragatha angst enjoyer , who made an entire au where she's having a bad day 24/7 . i truly , do not believe that ragatha's going to get killed off . just . hear me out . sit down on this chair .

it's not even that she's my favorite character and i don't want her to die . the opposite , actually , i eat ragatha abstraction fanfics up . my problems are more ... well , it lies more on the writing .

first of all , let's remember what tadc is for a second ; it's a tonally hopeful show with messages about community and not being truly alone . even in episode 5 , where ragatha Goes Through It , it has a glimmer of hope through jax — where he finds a friend in pomni .

it's why i truly believe she'll have some form of positive development , because if Jax , the character that gooseworx said who's Most deserved to be stuck in the circus , can be happy ... then why couldn't ragatha ?

also . i Love assholes with repressed trauma as much as the next guy , but it'll be weird to make the guy who's been antagonistic to most of the cast thus far find more happiness than ..... the clearly-traumatized woman ...........

when you write a story with mentally ill characters and a hopeful message ... what does it say when you kill off one of them ? what does it say to the audience that relates to that character ? here's a hint — stuff that i would find IFFY to put in your show .

obviously , you can do literally anything as a writer , but picture this ; imagine setting up a character like ragatha . someone who has gone through abuse and a lot of trauma . desperate for a community to the point she grasps for any scraps of validation she gets . you put her in a show where every character find some form of hope in the situation they're in . she has shown herself to harbor some form of self-loathing .

by that point , you should see my problem with killing her off . once more : if she dies , what does it say to the audience who relates to that character ?

and now for my next question — what would it add to the show ? what message does it send and how does it add to the theme ? because ... any of the answers to those questions i can think of are NOT good answers considering the last paragraphs .

" it'll show that people truly cares even when you're gone " we'll have episode 2 again , but this time at the cost of a character we've gotten to know for the last five episodes . it'll make ragatha's time in the show a Total Waste . like cool , all she's been set up for the last five episodes is to Die ...

i sure do hope we don't have another dead character who tells the same message of people caring about you when you're gone and also had an entire funeral scene which will make all of this build-up so redundant — oh wait his name is kaufmo .

at that point you could just remove her and put kaufmo in her place , because it's just the Same Message being told . it'll be impactful to see a main character dying ... if that character isn't going to essentially make all of their scenes redundant in hindsight .

" it'll give the cast character development " but not ragatha ?? i will be real with you i will be so Mad if ragatha gets killed off as a catalyst for jax to have an epiphany or character development . like genuinely that would make me instantly drop the show , do Not get me started .

even then , the thing that's going on with ragatha thus far is her thinking nobody cares for her despite that it's the Opposite . by giving the other characters development instead of her in Her Own Arc is Terrible Writing and i'm not going to budge on that .

" it'll mark a tonal shift " an answer i'm slightly okay with , but let's take the above paragraphs again — it'll be iffy nonetheless . do i Love the idea of an unsatisfying character arc where it suddenly ends , therefore breaking the formula that's been set since the beginning ? yes ! would i love it in this specific case considering the context of the show and its themes ? very much Not !

i know these arguments are more of an opinionated , ' think of how that'll work into the story ' rather than actual proof , but when it comes to making predictions , the tadc fandom doesn't really stop and think about how it adds to a character or story beyond It'll Be Shocking . for this theory specifically , i can't see a Good narrative reason to kill off ragatha without stepping on at least one land mine . as someone familiar with writing stories with mentally ill characters — it'll get Weird quick !

do i accept that there could be a Tiny possibility that ragatha Does abstract ? absolutely . i do trust gooseworx's ability as a writer enough to Maybe make this sting less when it actually does happen , but i'll very much criticize it .

so ! i don't think she Wouldn't abstract 100% though . because by this point it's inevitable that she'll sink into the darkness in some way . keep in mind that Barely Anything goes right for this girl . i don't think she'll die , but a very public mental breakdown is inevitable . at most , i see a fake-out abstraction . you know . one where she gets pulled out of it at the last second . just to scare the fans .

personally , do you know what would be more impactful than a death ? a character that fully believes she'll die alone and unloved being proven Wrong . episode 5 has shown how the other characters Care for her . imagine her spiraling and thinking that nobody cares if she abstracts , only to realize that there are people by her side . shit that would actually make me cry , i'm not gonna lie .

she will get a BIG group hug and she'll cry and i would also cry and we crew and we crode and i don't know maybe i'll be wrong Shrugs let's see this post age like milk LOL

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 1

I am not well versed in DC knowledge. I've read a bunch of the older comics but, honestly, these timelines are too confusing to say I have a firm grasp on what the fuck is happening at any given point.

Anyways, this is my story, I made a tumbler for it. I'll definitely upload again..

When the fly on the wall starts to spin webs of their own, can the bats catch on? Or will they be left to dangle in the web they've tangled?

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

You're hardly school aged when you wake in a strange place, vague memories of someone patting your head as you fall asleep. Then it was all blurry and you went from cold hard ground, suddenly, to a warm bed worth more than you've ever seen.

Laying still, staring up at the ceiling, you lay dazed until you hear the door starting to creak open. Quickly shutting your eyes you wait for the suspect to peak inside.

When his voice sounds, back on the other side of the door, you perk up, "Who's this? They're kinda cute." A boy, most likely a few years older than you.

When that deep, fear inducing voice reaches for you, you jump out of bed after it. "Apparently, my child." He couldn't possibly be talking about you, right?

You make your way silently to the creaked door. Peeping through to watch them. "Huh? What?? Like seriously???" Hands resting on his hips, a boy of black hair and lean physique gapes.

A tall man with a build as intimidating as his voice, "Yes, I've run a DNA test and everything." His large arms cross over his broad chest.

Mirroring the older man's stance, the boy questions, "So, who's the mom?"

"I'm still working on that.."

"Have you.. asked them?"

There's a heaviness lingering in the hall around them. "We don't know if they'll talk yet, not till they wake up." He doesn't like not having answers, clearly.

"Can they?"

Swinging the door open, you bark out at your own defense, "I knew how'd to talk!"

His shoulder shot up, face blossoming in embarrassment, "Oh, sorry." Sighing, he tries to appear nonchalant. "Well, heyyy.. kid.. My name's Dick.” Placing a hand on your shoulder, he smiles, “Guess I'll be like, your, uh, big brother?"

Eyes widening, you step away from his grasp. Being in a strange place with strange people claiming to be your family was concerning. Even in your young mind, alarm bells rang loud and clear.

Like a light shining through your darkest times, his voice cut through the tension. “This may be all too much for,” A man, much older than either, rests his hand on your back, “the newly young master Wayne.” He ushers you gently back into the room. All gentle pats and kind smiles as he insists on you resting.

You never spoke about who or where you came from. It hurts to try, to think of the cold, the dark, the pain, the fear. Push out all the bad. Make it just go away. You just wanted it to go away. Wanted to take every memory of before and lock it up, never to be found. So, that's what you did, burying every painful memory. After some time, your young mind turned repression into suppression. Now, left with only bits and pieces, you couldn't remember even if you wanted to.

So, you’ll need to fill in the emptiness with this fresh start.

Life in the Wayne house started off joyfully. You found serenity in the solitude of the manor, disconnected from the rest of Gotham. When Alfred wasn't pushing tedious homeschooling work, you explored the massive house you'd be calling home. The quietude of empty ballrooms, winding halls and stodgy gardens was your respite. While it wasn't a place made for children, you felt at peace for the first time. The perfect home for a ghost with plenty of walls for flies and flowers alike.

Coming from unknown origins with no paperwork to speak of left you in a peculiar predicament. As a child was low grasp on the passage of time, you couldn't exactly say how old you were. Let alone when your birth date was. No one has ever bothered to tell you and if they have you certainly weren't going to remember. Infact, at Alfreds insists on a celebration, he comes to find you've never truly experienced a birthday of any kind. He had to correct this at once, give you a proper one with cake, singing and presents. It makes him wonder what sort of childhood you've been plucked from.

“Well, young master.” Alfred takes your hands as you climb the step stool next to him, “It's been a year now since you've joined us at the manor.”

Your hands slap onto the counter when you finally reach it. “Yeah, I like it.” Smiling wide up at the old butler, you babble on, “everything is so big and warm and it smells nice and I like when you cook and I wanna cook too and-” Alfred hushes your ramblings with a hand on your head.

“Yes, that's lovely, my child.” The other hand opens a draw nearby. “And that's what we'll be doing today.”

You tilt your head as the hand on it brushes over it and falls away, “Cooking?” Craning your neck, you try to peek at the cards he flips through.

“Well, baking, but yes.” He confirms, offering you a smile that's warm and sweet like his cookies, “Today was the day you joined the family, it's as good a day as any for a party.”

Your eyes light up, “A party for what?”

“Your birthday, my dear.” He chuckles softly at your look of awe,“Today will be your birthday, and every year I shall make you a cake.”

“Woah, every year?” You gasp as he hafs you the small stack of cards, each a handwritten cake recipe. While you can't read them yet, there are pictures of each cake pasted alongside the words. “That's a lot of cakes.. Can I help?”

“Whichever you like most we'll bake.” You're quick to pick one, waving the card around frantically, “I would be honored to have your help as well, young master.”

Alfred got to work with measurements, letting you pour everything into the bowls. He shows you how to mix, guiding you hand over hand when you struggle. You can't help spilling half of you what you're given, covering the counters. Sliding the pan batter into the oven, Alfred has you assist by wiping away your mess.

As he begins readying ingredients for frosting you ask, “Are those guys gonna join us?”

You're too busy scrubbing batter from your stool to see the way he deflates. “Unfortunately, your father and brother are tied up in something.” He sighs, taking the rag and finishing your job. With a sullen smile he hands you a measuring cup of sugar, “Perhaps next year.”

The night is spent merrily celebrating. When it cools Alfred frosts and decorates your cake. He places a number of candles, It's the first of many birthdays spent with just you and Alfred.

The next years were your first time in true schooling, a prestigious boarding school to boot. You couldn't remember seeing so many other children before. The eyes you received from strangers when given your new last name made your skin crawl. Deciding to forgo it in most encounters. Yet, for some reason to a great number of your fellow classmates, that fact seemed to matter greatly. If you met someone who insisted or withheld their friendship without, then you'd simply roll your eyes, never speaking to them.

You decided friends weren't important, instead making it your goal to not just succeed but to exceed. If this was your shot of a real family, you wanted to show them you were something capable. Worthy. You were hopeful, determined in getting close.

Only to be pushed aside at every opportunity.

“I got’ perfect score!” The words burst from you with such excitement you're bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Bruce doesn't even bother to look at the paper you're frantically waving at him. Simply mumbling as he places his mug in the sink, “Very nice.” Before turning to Dick, “Come on, son. It's time to go.” You thought maybe this was how a father was supposed to be. Cold, distant and hardly ever around for someone so small.

Alfred steps up from behind your slumped form. Plucking the paper from your dejected gaze. He hums softly before you hear a rap on the fridge beside you. “Wonderful job young master.” You smile for him as he pats your head. Happy to have at least someone’s acknowledgement.

From what your classmates say, a big brother will either pick on you or support you. Soon you came to find that living with Dick Grayson didn't guarantee you any of his time. Good or bad.

So, despite the terror that being center stage fills you with, you entered your school's spelling bee. The thought that maybe you could possibly impress them gave you just enough nerve.

“Hey, um, Dickie...” When you catch his sleeve, your teeth skin into your cheeks. He peeks over his shoulder at you, “Here, it's a competition.”

His nose wrinkles slightly before he smiles. “Spelling bee?” Not a real smile, you don't get those. It's a empty, meaningless thing that hardly lifts his lips.

“If you're not busy.” You clasp your fingers together, steeling your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. Maybe.” It’s thinly masked disgust if anything.

Time came to discuss bringing you into the public eye, an official declaration of your relationship with the Wayne's. Just the thought of it was unsettling, like placing a target on your back. The last place you want to be is the spot light.

“I don't wanna go. I won't go.” It was then in that moment, when the words left your lips, you could see it in his eyes.

A wave of relief Dick couldn't quite stifle, lip touching at the corner before turning to Bruce, “Maybe they're just scared of all those new people. With everyone looking at them, seeing them as your..” That uptick in his features falters slightly, “first child, technically.” Back then, you thought he cared. That this was actually for your protection. “It's a lot of pressure, maybe it would be better. For them, to stay safe.”

Bruce crosses his arms, examining his older child before looking back to the younger. “You have a point there, Dick.” You've twisted your fingers into Alfreds pant leg, half hidden behind him. “Fine. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. It might even be for the better.” Neither of them wanted you there, thinly veiled behind words of care, never quit saying it.

Not once then did you realize. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could say, nothing you could show for. Nothing to make them see you, the real you. You couldn't provide them with anything, that made you useless.

“Very well, Master Bruce.” With a sigh, Alfred guides you away as the two leave. He was always the one in your corner. Before you even know this life would be a battle.

This give on the topic began your gradual slope into obscurity. In the hectic years of adolescence, you'd come to the conclusion that private schools are for snobs. You manage to convince the old butler, with baked goods, to allow a change of schools. Not wanting to slow your studies yet overwhelmed by your known family reputation. Public school seemed viable, no one had to know who you really were. There seemed to be no object, or real acknowledgment of this decision.

You used to believe, despite how they act, this was it, this would be your family and you could be happy. Surely, you thought, it's because you're new to them. It must be hard to connect, you found it quite difficult yourself.

So, you decided, you'll just need to put in more effort. Show them that there is something that you and they can do together. You took up everything you Alfred offered to teach you when he was around. You learned to cook, sew and clean the whole manor faster than the master butler himself.

Of course, he had other priorities, not just as your caretaker. Try as he might to keep you at the top of that list, he still has duties to attend. So, you would take your days, even weeks, alone with stride. A good time to build your skills on your own, finding new ways to utilize them. Hoping for something, anything, to bridge the gap with your new family.

“I'll be home late today, Al.” While you had gotten away from uptight private schooling, Alfred still set into a well funded school.

He gives a light chuckle of disbelief over the phone, “You have plans, young master?” Pinching the device between your shoulder and ear, you fumble through your first ever locker.

“It's just a club, I'll still need you to pick me up after.” With all your free time, you thought you'd use more of your growing skills.

“At your service my dear.”

You took time to catch on, years of peeling away from the background. Picking and pulling apart from the inside out, finding something that could peak their interest. Hoping to think twice, even once to turn their heads back to the lone manner.

That's how you found them, their secrets; and the life that pulled them as taunt in one direction as the other did. Digging for a way that you could connect from beyond the twice eye catching lives they live day and night. You were piled with reasoning when you found that special place in the library they all seemed to love. The idea of passing the security felt out of reach at the time.

Walking along the dark water line, looking out to the misty sky. You don't wish for misfortune, but you wait. When that light flickers on and that familiar symbol reflects on the dark Gotham clouds, your breath catches. Ducking alonge the rocky cliff wall by the large alcove, you listen to the rumble. You brace yourself as something in the shallow cave opens, the rumble growing.

Then you have your answer. The Batmobile comes billowing out of the cave, in its wake you hide. Long after its departure from the property, you emerge from your hiding spot. Slipping through the closing doors and wandering down into the bat cave.

Despite how they see through you most times, you're sure Alfred knows when you sneak in. So, appreciating this to be Alfred throwing his hand up and hiding his eyes for your sake.

It's awe inspiring to say the least, especially knowing you live above it every day. It felt like peeking through the lives of strangers and you couldn't look away. You don't know why he kept it from you but you didn't want to be shut out for knowing. Yet, you couldn't satiate your curiosity with just this visit.

You had told Alfred you had a meeting after a club and that you would be home late. For some strange reason he promised Dick would pick you up.

Water splashes up from a speeding tire as you walk along the misty Gotham streets, “Aw man, come on!” Of course Dick didn't show! Why would he? When has he ever?

Now, in this situation, Alfred would wish for you to call him for assistance.

“Over there! Look, look!” Across the intersection a pair gasps and squeals, fingers pointed up at the Boy Wonder. The last thing on his mind as he leapt through the night sky, was an unwanted sister.

If only Alfead could get everything he's ever wished for, but you're not a fairy.

Following gunshot and bangs you skirt around chaos, nearly avoiding an obvious outbreak of costumed thugs. You watch in ired fascination as they beat down each threat thoroughly. As the moon starts to sit lower again and the bad guys are carted away, you realize how long you've been gone.

You arrive at the gates in tune to be blown past by the Batmobile. Inside, Alfred gives you a look as if he knows every secret you've even kept. Thankfully he doesn't say a word, You're out of your damp clothes by the time the dynamic duo ascend to the manor.

For people of the shadows, they never could seem to see you creeping through them.

It's through this that you managed to learn about Barbra Gordon. The commissioner's daughter was someone you could only catch glimpses of from time to time. It was rare for you to catch her attention. Much too preoccupied with her work for the Bat, your father.

The batgirl's skill inspired your own delve into tech. Hacking, coding and even trying your hand at tinkering with new devices. Creations that you've jerry-rigged and hoped against hope that she would even glance at.

She's coming over today, you overheard dick say so. You've poked your head over the banister as you wait to spot the red head. Yet, once she's there, you freeze. Dick and Barbara push through the front doors together. Light rain chasing them inside from the sturing storm. Their foot falls followed by light laughter and easy chitchat. If only it was so easy for you.

You watch as your brother scurries off, promising to grab a towel. This is your shot. “Oh, um!” Words are coming from you before you even know what to say. Stumbling over yourself, you bumble over, haltung in front of her. “B-Barbra?”

“Huh, who?” At the ruckus you've made, she whips around. Head on a swivel 'till green eyes locking on you. “Oh! It's you.. uh..” looking you up and down she stumbles as well.

You have to give her your name, again.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Barbra looks off sheepishly, carting a hand through her hair. Hand flicking droplets from the ginger ringlets.

“It's okay..” that's alright, that's normal Even. You don't see each other all that often.. even though you remembered her name just fine. “I just want to ask you about some-” Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, she cuts you off before you can pull out what you want to share with her.

“I've actually got to-” Her mouth snaps shut before she thinks better of words, “Well, um, talk with Bruce.” She finishes with an awkward chuckle and mumbled “Y'know how it is. Always something with the Wayne's.”

No, “Yeah..” You didn't know.

You've never shared more than a last name with the Wayne's.

Patting your head she smiles, “Sorry again, hun. Maybe later?” turning away down the hall Dick had disappeared to. Even to the all seeing eye you were nothing but a mere fly on the wall.

Gothams streets were dark, dangerous, and the only place you could see them for more than a minute. You loved nights like this, when you could slip from the manor. Undetected by the inattentive gazes that should have kept a preteen like you home.

With this habit of bird watching, you found yourself looking more into your subpar self defense. Living in Gotham has given you a natural caution but all too often you've wound up in tight situations. All because you couldn't keep your eyes off them. Maybe if you show them you could do that, fight back, they might see you.

You put yourself out there over and over, “Uh, d-dad?” Alfred insisted you call him that, but it never felt right, “I've been doing, um, I have this..” taking a breath you force it out, “It's martial arts, could you come see me?”

Another paper half glance at before the typical, “I'll see what I can do.”

Apparently, there are some things even Batman can't do.

“H-hey.. I, uh, am doing..” You pull out the flier for your competition. inspecting it over before looking to see him. Half-heartedly glancing up from his comic, Dick gives you a once over before continuing to read, “Gymnastics.”

Finally his eyes hold yours when the word shoots from your mouth. For a second you think this is it. This is when you’ll finally have his attention. Finally make that long awaited connection with your big brother. “I'll see, why don't you ask Bruce?” Dick lays the paper on the living room table in front of him.

“I did... he said the same thing.”

The paper is still there when you come back later.

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Two

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — Eek, are we soft for them already?

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

Maths was a unique kind of enemy.

Harper stared at the page, where a tangle of numbers mocked her in perfect, immovable silence. Quadratic equations. Graphs that looked like abstract art. Somewhere in her notes, her own handwriting had turned against her.

Jane was no help. "Look, I'd love to assist, but I operate strictly in the humanities. You want me to write an essay on why algebra is a metaphor for emotional repression? I got you. Solve for x? That's between x and God."

Harper sighed, banging her forehead on the desk.

Which is exactly how Oscar found her after his endurance run, still in his hoodie, hair damp and cheeks pink from the cold.

"You okay?" He asked.

"No," she mumbled into the table. "I'm dying. Death by numbers."

He peered over her shoulder. "Those are easy."

She raised her head and narrowed her eyes. "You would say that." She glared at him.

Oscar laughed and slid into the seat beside her. "Alright. Come on. I'll show you."

At first, it was just him. Patient, steady, explaining with short, clipped phrases and pencil taps. She wasn't sure if it was his teaching style or just the fact that he wasn't condescending that made it slowly start to make sense.

But by the next evening, word had gotten out.

Somehow.

The dorm common room turned into a weirdly specific academic support group. Oscar's roommate Sam pulled up a chair. Then Cal (Oscar’s engineer) FaceTimed in "for moral support"; and then casually mentioned that he has a masters degree in quantum physics.

Then two boys from Oscar's algebra class wandered over with snacks and just so happened to linger.

By the third night, someone had drawn up a "Harper's Maths Survival Schedule" and taped it to the common room door.

It read:

Monday: Oscar Tuesday: Sam Wednesday: Oscar Thursday: Alfie Friday: Matt

Harper laughed so hard when she saw it, she nearly cried.

And weirdly, somehow — it helped.

Not just the maths—but everything. The pressure. The loneliness. The constant feeling that she was a visitor in someone else's life. Here, she wasn't her mother's daughter, or the less-than-perfect student, or a problem to be fixed.

She was just Harper. And they liked her enough to stick around and actually put effort into helping her get better at maths.

One night, after everyone else had trickled off, Oscar hung around a little longer. She was almost too tired to think, her head tipped back on the sofa, eventually lolling over to rest on his shoulder.

"I don't know how you did it," she murmured.

"Did what?"

"Managed to turn maths practice into something I look forward to."

He laughed lightly. "You just needed to stop being so hard on yourself about it."

She looked over at him, eyes half-lidded. "Thanks, Osc."

He paused for a second too long. "Yeah. You're welcome."

She didn't respond. Just blinked at him, soft and warm.

And when he kissed her, it wasn't shocking.

It just felt... right.

—

Oscar wasn't supposed to be here.

Technically, he could be permanently expelled from the school. Lose his scholarship.

Not that he seemed particularly worried about that as he ducked beneath the low dorm window Harper had jimmied open earlier that week with a pen and a high level of angry rebellion.

"You're late," Jane said from where she sat cross-legged on her bed, dabbing highlighter onto her cheekbones. "Harper said you'd be five minutes."

"I had to wait for your prefect to leave," Oscar replied, swinging a leg inside. "She was sniffing around like a bloodhound."

"You're lucky you're cute," Jane muttered, not looking up.

Oscar took in the room; two mismatched duvets, makeup scattered across the long desk, fairy lights tangled above a heart shaped mirror. The air smelled like vanilla body lotion and expensive shampoo and some kind of spice he couldn't place. Cinnamon, maybe.

Harper was perched on the windowsill, brushing her hair into a ponytail with one hand, holding a lip balm in the other. She was wearing a navy jumper over leggings, ankle tucked under her thigh like she hadn't even noticed he'd arrived—even though the pink high in her cheeks suggested otherwise.

"I feel like I've entered another dimension," Oscar said, warily eyeing an eyelash curler. "What is that?"

Jane brandished it like a weapon. "Beauty, my darling. Don't question the process."

"You're both unwell," he muttered, but he was smiling.

Harper rolled her eyes at him, but had to purse her lips to hide her smile. "You're the one who insisted on coming over."

"Yeah, and now I regret it," Oscar said, perching awkwardly on the edge of Harper's bed. He knew it was hers because her pillowcase was monogrammed with a cursive H. "What are you doing?"

"Makeup," Jane said, blending concealer with terrifying precision. "You should try it."

Harper handed him a compact mirror with a sly smile. "Want some mascara, Osc?"

Oscar caught his own reflection and made a face. "No. I'll stay ugly, thanks."

Harper rolled her eyes at him and nudged him. He noticed that she'd painted her fingernails a glittery pink. He liked them.

Jane tossed an empty crisp packet across the room and it landed somewhere close to the bin.

Harper held up two near-identical shades of what was apparently lip gloss and demanded that Oscar choose.

Oscar chose the darker pink and Harper beamed at him.

Eventually, Jane pulled her riding boots on and announced, "Right. I'm going to grab some water bottles. Don't kiss until I get back — I want to watch."

Oscar opened his mouth to say something — anything, but she was already gone.

And then it was just the two of them, the room suddenly quieter, more tense. Harper turned toward him, one knee bent on the chair, her face lightly painted with makeup, her cheeks flushed from the laughter.

She looked at him, eyes half-lidded. "Thanks for coming, Osc. I missed you this weekend."

He stared for a second too long. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. I wanted to come. I missed you too."

She didn't look away, and suddenly he couldn't hold himself back anymore.

He pushed off of the bed and walked over to her, leaned down and cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. Long and soft and perfectly minty — from his gum or her lipgloss, he wasn't sure. Maybe both.

Teamwork.

When they pulled apart, she exhaled shakily."Okay," she said, so softly it barely existed. "That was nice."

Oscar looked at her for a long moment, his thumb brushing a smudge of mascara off her cheekbone.

Then Jane banged back through the door with a flourish, freezing mid-step at their closeness.

"Oh my God, did you—? You did, didn't you. I missed it again!"

—

Half term at Harper's house felt like walking around in someone else's skin.

Every day was a new performance: a crisp outfit, polite laughter, perfectly timed nods in rooms filled with too-white teeth and names she was supposed to remember. The dining tables were long and silent, the smiles were sharp, and the wine flowed never-ending.

Her mother paraded her through charity galas and luncheons like she was a debutante being rebranded.

"Stand up straighter, Harper."

"Don't speak unless you're spoken to."

"Do not mention anything to do with your schooling. God forbid they ask about your grades."

So Harper swallowed herself down, tucked her sarcasm into her clutch bag, and became exactly the daughter her mother wanted. For six days.

By the seventh, she'd become brittle.

When the train pulled back into the station near school, Harper had barely spoken a word for almost five hours. The Uber to the gates was quiet. Her mother didn't even look up from her phone when she said goodbye.

And then the building appeared—stone and ivy, wind in the trees, the faint smell of grass and cafeteria food.

Home, almost.

She hadn't texted Oscar. So she just walked straight to the common room, her bag still digging into her shoulder, hair pulled into a too-tight twist, like a fingerprint that her mother had left on her.

He was there, leaning against the radiator with his headphones half on, scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up once and blinked like he wasn't sure she was real.

"Hey—"

She dropped her bag before he could finish. Crossed the space in three quick steps.

And then she was in his arms, burying her face into the curve of his neck.

No words. No warning.

Oscar caught her without hesitation, his arms sliding around her, his hands settling at her back like they'd been waiting. He held her tightly.

For a long time, they didn't say anything.

Just her fingers fisting in the back of his hoodie. His chin tucked gently over her hair. The low hum of the radiator and the quiet outside, and the way she was shaking, not crying, not quite, but trembling with the pressure of having to be somebody else for too long.

Eventually, he whispered, "Was it that bad?"

She nodded into his chest.

"I missed you," he said.

She didn't answer; just held on tighter.

It was the first time she'd ever let herself lean on somebody like this. Not perform, not pretend—just be held. And she didn't care who saw or what anyone thought.

Oscar had quietly become her anchor. Her soft place.

And maybe that was terrifying.

She was only fourteen, Oscar fifteen — but God, his arms felt like safety. And warmth. And something else that she couldn't bear to even consider yet.

—

Harper's fifteenth birthday wasn't eventful.

She didn't tell anyone. Not because she didn't want them to know—but because birthdays in her world had always come with strings. Lavish luncheons, social climbing events, gifts that felt like bribes.

She just wanted this one to pass through quietly. Like a train through a tunnel.

Jane, of course, knew anyway. She left a pastry and a glittery crown on Harper's bed with a note that said, "You are legally required to feel loved today. I don't make the rules." The crown had little fake gems and kept slipping off Harper's head, but she wore it anyway during breakfast.

Oscar wasn't there.

He was in Italy. Or Belgium. Somewhere with a name that tasted foreign and exciting. Somewhere chasing corners at 120 miles per hour while she spent the morning trying to translate her messy English notes into a coherent essay.

Her and Oscar still weren't... official.

No labels, no silly promises.

Just soft looks and secret smiles, warm palms pressed together in the dark of the common room. Kisses that stretched time. Late-night texts that made her stomach twist in ways she still didn't know how to name.

But still. It was her birthday.

She didn't expect anything.

Which is why, when Jane dragged her back to their room after dinner, she nearly tripped over the package sitting on her desk.

There was no name on it. Just a strip of tape across the top, and the faint smell of engine oil clinging to the paper.

She tore it open slowly, heartbeat ticking louder with each pull.

Inside: a hoodie. Worn-in, navy blue. She recognised it immediately—it was Oscar's. The one he always wore over his racing suit, with his initials inked inside the collar. It smelled like him. Like soap and sun and sweat.

And tucked inside the folded fabric, a card.

H — Happy birthday. Sorry I'm not there. Don't let Jane make you wear the crown all day. Put this on instead. I'll be back before the end of the week. Save a birthday kiss for me. Osc x

She stared at the messy, awful, hardly eligible handwriting for a long time.

Then she pulled the hoodie on and let it swallow her whole.

Later, when they'd crawled back into the common room to watch a movie and everyone was pretending not to watch her phone light up every three minutes, Jane nudged her.

"You know he's basically your boyfriend, right?"

Harper rolled her eyes. "He's not, though."

Jane shrugged. "Oh, puh-lease. You're always wearing his clothes. You look at him like he's the moon and you're the stars. You guys kiss all the damn time — like you've got nowhere else to be."

"I don't need a label." Harper said.

"No," Jane said, smiling. "But you'll have one soon. I'd put money on it."

As if on cue, Harper's phone buzzed.

A photo. Oscar, in his race suit, grinning with helmet hair and grease on his cheek, holding up a little cupcake with a candle in it.

Wish you were here. Celebrating for you anyway. Happy Birthday, sunshine.

Harper didn't reply right away. Just closed her eyes, let the warmth bloom under her ribs, and whispered, mostly to herself, "I wish I was there too."

—

The night was cool and quiet in the early spring, the kind of night where the world seemed to be holding its breath for a warm day.

Harper waited near the edge of the astro turf, shadows stretching long under the floodlights that were turned off but still gave the field a faint glow from the nearby streetlamps.

Her hoodie was too big, but it felt like a shield—and it smelled like Oscar.

She heard footsteps before she saw him, and when he appeared, the grin he gave her was full of all the things words hadn't managed to say.

"Hey," he said, voice low.

"Hey," she replied, stepping closer.

They settled on the edge of the turf, legs stretched out, the grass synthetic but soft beneath them.

For a while, they just sat. Quiet but close. Hands finding each other like magnets.

Then Oscar broke the silence. "So... uh, us," he started, voice hesitant but steady.

Harper turned her head toward him, watching the way his eyes caught the light, shadows flickering like secrets.

"I don't want to mess this up," he said, his lips curled awkwardly. "But I really like you, Harper. Like... so much."

She took a breath. "I like you too," she whispered. "More than friends."

He grinned, that slow, real smile that made everything else fall away. "So—you want to be my girlfriend?"

She stared at him, her stomach warm and twirling, her lips twitching into a fond, sweet smile. "Yeah, Osc. Yeah. I want to be your girlfriend."

—

The track in Essex was wet. Not just damp — soaked. The kind of cold, miserable damp that clung to your bones and turned the air misty around the edges.

Harper stood at the edge of the paddock with Mark, a steaming takeaway cup with hot chocolate cupped between her hands, the sleeves of Oscar's team hoodie pulled down over her wrists. Her boots were already muddy. Her nose was red. She didn't care one single bit.

Because out there — helmet on, eyes narrow, engine growling beneath him — was Oscar. Fast, fluid, terrifyingly good.

Mark watched silently, arms folded, one eye on the stopwatch. "Final lap," he murmured.

Harper didn't answer. She couldn't. Her heart was in her throat.

Then he crossed the finish line — just ahead, by a fraction of a second.

A cheer broke out across the team tent, someone throwing their arms in the air. Mechanics pounded backs. One of the younger juniors swore loudly in delight.

Oscar skidded into the pit lane and yanked off his helmet. His hair was plastered to his forehead. His face was flushed, wild-eyed, grinning.

Harper barely waited. She ducked under the barrier and ran straight into his arms.

He caught her mid-stride, lifting her clean off the ground with a muddy laugh.

"You did it," she breathed, half-laughing, half-crying.

He held her tighter, nose brushing her temple. "I did it."

Their kiss was messy and cold and perfect.

A few feet away, Mark shook his head with a smile and muttered, "Teenagers."

Later, after the podium and the trophy photos and the engine checks and the interviews he barely paid attention to, Oscar found her again — sitting on a folding chair, wet hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her boots still caked in track dirt.

He dropped down in front of her, ignoring the mud. His hands slid around her knees.

"You cold?" He asked.

"A bit."

He peeled off his jacket and tugged it over her without thinking.

She let her hands drift to his collar. "You really are the best boyfriend ever, aren't you?"

He shrugged. His cheeks flushed a little. "I try my best."

They sat like that in the growing dusk, a boy covered in sweat and rubber and a girl who didn't belong in this world — but somehow fit in it perfectly anyway.

They still hadn't said the words.

But everyone around them already knew.

They could see it.

"Bloody young love, eh?" One of the mechanics said to Mark, giving him a friendly grin.

Mark stared at his protege and the girl he was wrapped around. "Yeah. Young love. A hell of a thing."

—

The Monday morning after Oscar's karting championship win was business as usual — at least for everyone else.

The cafeteria stank of burnt toast and unripened bananas. Someone's rugby kit had been left to rot in the corridor again. Teachers were barking about mock exams and how important breakfast was for concentration.

Rain pattered against the high windows.

The whispers had started the moment they walked in — not mean, just curious. A mix of respect and amusement. He's the karting kid who actually did it. And she was the girl who'd been there.

They didn't hold hands in front of everyone, they were both too awkward for that, but they walked close. His bag brushed hers. Their shoulders kept touching. She caught him glancing at her more than once, and she blushed every damn time.

They sat at their usual table; Jane joined them, already mid-rant about the biology quiz, and Oscar slid into the seat beside Harper like it was instinct. A few of his mates clapped him on the back, one of them tossing out, "Bloody hell, Piastri. Gonna forget us little people soon?"

Oscar grinned but didn't rise to it. His hand brushed Harper's knee under the table.

After breakfast, Harper slipped away early. Sometimes, the morning noise was too much. She wandered toward the astro, the damp still clinging to the edges of the pitch, her trainers leaving faint impressions on the stone pathway.

A minute later, she heard footsteps behind her.

"You always going to run off without me?" Oscar's voice, soft, teasing.

She turned and squinted at him. "I wasn't running," she said.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. "You okay, babe?"

Babe.

Babe. Babe. Babe.

"No," she said. "Yes. No. I don't know. I just needed to breathe."

He stepped up beside her, both of them facing the empty turf.

"You think my mum's going to be pissed when she finds out?" She asked after a minute.

He glanced sideways at her. "About you going to the race?"

"No. Yes. But I meant more about us."

Oscar was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. She probably will."

She looked at him; saw the mud-streaked, medal-wearing, boy-who-won-the-thing him. The one who kissed her under floodlights and held her on her worst days. The one she'd never trade for any high-brow, suit-wearing finance guy in any universe.

"You really aren't going anywhere, are you?" She whispered. "

He shook his head. "Not unless you're coming with me."

She stepped into his chest and sniffled a little, then looked up and lifted onto her tiptoes to let him kiss her.

—

It started as a joke.

One day in maths, Harper made a face so violently pained at the sight of a clock diagram on a worksheet that Jane nearly fell off her chair laughing.

That evening, Oscar mentioned it to the guys — just casually, in that offhand way that somehow made them all very invested in Harper's educational redemption arc.

By the weekend, there was a printed-out worksheet titled "MISSION: TEACH HARPER TO READ A CLOCK" taped to the common room wall.

It escalated quickly.

Now, every Tuesday evening, the boys' dorm turned into a chaotic, loving, entirely misguided tutoring group.

Like an off-brand of the maths tutoring program they'd thrown together for her — but with more interest.

There was Oscar, naturally, trying to be the patient one. Then Alfie, who thought yelling was teaching. Ethan, who brought snacks. And Matt, who had made a papier-mâché clock face out of a pizza box. With arrows.

Harper sat in the middle of them like a hostage.

"I'm telling you," she said, pointing wildly at the pizza box. "That one's ten. I swear. It's a ten."

Oscar, sitting cross-legged beside her, gently rotated the cardboard. "Harper, the big hand is on the two. That means it's ten past the hour. Not ten o'clock."

"Okay but how am I meant to know which hand is the minute hand? They're both just... hands."

Alfie groaned. "The minute hand is the longer one! Like, always! What do you mean 'just hands'?"

"They're not labelled!" She cried. "If someone handed you two spoons and said one was for soup and one was for jazz, would you know the difference?"

Everyone stopped.

Matt blinked. "Why would I have a jazz spoon?"

Oscar covered his mouth and tried not to laugh.

Ethan passed Harper a cookie. "Here."

She took it. "I'm just saying — numbers on a clock move. They're not meant to move." She grumbled and gave herself a frustrated forehead tap. "God, I'm so stupid."

Oscar leaned his shoulder gently against hers. "No you're not. You know that you're not, Harper. You know you're brilliant at a million other things."

She glanced at him suspiciously. "Like what?"

"You have perfect spatial memory. You memorised my whole kart setup after watching one session. You've mastered a million different coding languages already. You're good with people. You know how to read a room faster than anyone I've ever met. And," he added, deadpan, "you've successfully confused four teenage boys into thinking teaching time is a fun group activity."

She laughed then, warm and tired. "Well. Can't say I'm not a good influence, can the?"

"You're just a bit of a lost cause when it comes to clocks," Alfie muttered, re-taping the pizza clock for the fifth time.

But Harper didn't care about clocks. Not really.

Because she was surrounded. Because they kept showing up — Oscar with his soft corrections, Alfie with his shouting, Jane peeking in with popcorn halfway through every session. They all knew. About the dyscalculia, about the clocks, about her brain doing loop-de-loops over simple sums.

And none of them ever made her feel stupid for it.

Just... loved.

Even if she still couldn't tell the difference between three-forty-five and quarter past the hour (because what the hell did that even mean?).

—

It happened on the following Wednesday.

Halfway through the day, Harper was pulled from class. A quiet word from a teaching assistant, a murmured excuse. No one offered a reason why.

She thought it might be something small. Maybe Jane had accidentally set off the fire alarm again.

But then she stepped into the front office — and saw her mother sitting there, spine straight, legs crossed, lips pursed in thin, unimpressed silence.

Harper's stomach dropped.

"Come," her mother said, standing. "We'll talk in the car."

⸻

The car was parked on the far side of the lot, a sleek black town car that looked like it belonged outside a private gallery in Mayfair. Not a school car park.

Harper slid in, cold air brushing her ankles, heart thudding in her chest like it already knew what was coming.

Her mother didn't speak until the door shut.

"A karting race?" Her voice was like glass. "Karting, Harper?"

Harper blinked. "How do you—?"

"I got a call," she said, cutting her off. "From someone on the board. They saw photos. You, standing in the dirt with oil on your jeans. Smiling like you'd won the lottery. Holding hands with some, boy, in a racing suit. Do you understand how humiliating that was for me?"

"It's not—"

Her mother turned, eyes sharp and glittering. "Do you have any idea how much I've done to protect your name? Your future? And you're throwing it away for... boys who drive go-karts and call it a sport?"

Harper's hands curled in her lap. "He's not just a boy," she said quietly. "And it is a sport."

"Oh," her mother sneered, "is he your boyfriend now? Do you want to bring him to your cousin's wedding in Vienna next month? Shall we seat him between a baroness and a venture capitalist and see how long he lasts before talking about gear ratios?"

Harper flinched. "Stop."

But she didn't.

"You are not one of them, Harper. You are not some muddy little pitlane girlfriend who throws her life away for some boy with too much money and a ridiculous dream. I will not let you become a story people whisper about."

"I'm happy," Harper said, voice rising. "For once in my life, I'm actually—"

"Enough." Her mother's voice was like a slap. "We're withdrawing you at the end of term. I've already spoken to Madame Viard. There's a place for you at Lausanne International. You leave for Switzerland in January."

The silence after was suffocating.

Harper sat frozen, winded, as if someone had punched all the air out of her.

Her mother adjusted a glove, calm again. "You'll thank me someday."

But Harper wasn't listening anymore.

Her mother's jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein twitched in her temple.

"Fine," Harper said, voice low but steady.

The word dropped like a weight in the space between them.

Her mother blinked, surprised by the ease of her surrender.

But then Harper looked up — and there was fire behind her eyes. Her voice was calm, controlled, but every word burned.

"But you should know," she said, leaning forward just slightly, "that when Oscar's driving in Formula One — not if, when — and he's one of the most successful athletes in the world, I won't look back. I won't give you an inch. I'll let you sit in your wrongness and stew in it forever."

Her mother went bright red. "Do you think you're making this better for yourself?"

Harper laughed — a bitter, tired sound. "No. I know I'm making it worse. I'm very aware of how this works, Mum. I step out of line, and you slam the gates shut. But what else can I do?"

She paused, chest heaving slightly now.

"You don't listen to me. You never have. You just tell me what my life is going to be. What I wear. Who I talk to. Where I study. Who I sit next to at dinner parties like I'm some sort of accessory you place on a chair next to a financier's son. You talk through me like I'm not a human being. Like I don't have wants and desires and dreams of my own."

"Harper—"

"No. You don't get to talk now."

She didn't raise her voice — didn't need to. Every word sliced clean and deliberate.

"The worst part? The part that actually makes me want to scream? Is that I know Dad would be so happy I found someone like Oscar. That I found someone who likes me in the quietest, most awkward, most real way."

Her breath hitched — not from tears, but from the pressure of keeping them in.

"He's so bad at it. At being romantic. He blushes when I look at him for too long. He stammers when he's nervous. He opens doors and fixes my hair without saying a word. He doesn't like PDA. He frowns when he's concentrating and forgets to drink water and spends more time worrying about everyone else's lap times than his own."

She looked her mother dead in the eye.

"And yeah — he races karts. But he moved all the way here from Australia on his own at fourteen. He trains his body every single day for hours on end. He's braver than anyone I've ever met. Can you name one of your friends' sons who would've had the guts to do that? Or who would sit with me for an hour to explain how to read an analogue clock without laughing at me? Or who lets me cry without asking questions because he knows I hate explaining myself?"

Silence crackled in the car.

Her mother's lips parted — but nothing came out.

So Harper filled the space.

"You raised me to care more about perception than truth. To be polished. Obedient. Photogenic. And I'm done."

She reached for the door handle, voice like steel. "You want to send me to Switzerland? Fine. But you'll have to drag me there. Kicking and screaming."

She opened the door, letting in the sharp slap of cold air, and turned back one last time.

"Because I've finally found something that's mine. And I'm not giving it up for you. Not this time."

Then she stepped out of the car and walked back to class.

NEXT CHAPTER

[lesbworth]

a probably incomplete list and rating of all the britcoms i have watched and how gay they are

somehow, during my short life, i have managed to watch an obscene amount of britcom, mostly through family osmosis. this probably explains a lot about who i am today. i have recently been thinking about just how many of these things have passed through my eyeballs over the years and also just how many of them range from kind of to very to unbelievably gay. so here is a list rating how gay they all are out of 10 because i always love a list!

notes:

many of these i watched at a tender age so i remember kind of fuck all and i have not rewatched any for the purposes of this. so be aware that several of these reviews are based on hazy recollections of vibes

yes some of the ones with canon queer characters are going to have lower ratings than some of the ones without that's simply how the cookie crumbles. sometimes a show is just packed to the absolute brim with pure trademark typically english inexplicable repressed homoeroticism and it makes it feel gayer than one where a character came out

let's say 5/10 is what i consider the "average" level of britcom homoeroticism but other than that there's no system to the ratings just vibes fr

-

1960s

dad's army

this is probably the one i started watching at the youngest age, but i watched so damn much of it. i was too young to be looking out for this kind of thing but considering it fits the classic britcom format of revolving around the strong bonds between a cast that fails to pass the bechdel test i'm gonna make an educated guess at 3/10. there's probably old man yaoi in there somewhere. (and if i had to pick the main ship it would clearly be mainwaring/wilson)

1970s

all creatures great and small

i mean. OBJECTIVELY. it is not gay. it's literally based on real people who as far as we know were not in the least gay. but THERE'S JUST A WEIRD VIBE. AM I CRAZY? TELL ME I'M NOT CRAZY 5/10 (it's probably partly a side effect of watching this as a babygay since i would basically headcanon the whole main cast of anything i watched as bisexual. good times. i also had tristan farnon gender envy)

fawlty towers

really heterosexual vibe i will not lie. at least 60% propped up by classic i hate my wife humour. if there's anything queer in there it did not impress itself upon me 0/10 at least it inspired vicious

the good life

ostensibly this is about two married couples but it emits such an oddly bisexual energy??? like they're a polycule. to me. which is already basically canon since they have the whole wifeswap dynamic but i mean tom and jerry (yes really) are giving exes and margo and barbara have probably snogged a couple of times. TO ME. 6/10

only when i laugh

on balance i think it's probably at least a bit homoerotic considering the bechdel test metric again but despite having decently clear memories of it i can't think of anything particularly. i'll give it a 4/10 and as a raffles fan christopher strauli being there adds a point LMAO

porridge

despite being set in a men's prison i don't think it gets a very high score... let's go 4/10 because i'm sure there's enough there to go off of. pretty sure there were also many jokes about gay sex as can be expected. also inspired red dwarf

rising damp

going to be so for real the main thing i remember is the racism. 1/10? there are enough male characters that there might have been something idk

to the manor born

i mean it's a straight romance but it's not toooo hetero. audrey and marjory are kind of schoolgirl exes yuri #if you think about it. in fact i remember a scene where they're gushing about how they both had a crush on one of their schoolmistresses? 5.5/10?

whatever happened to the likely lads?

i THINK i've watched episodes of this. i know my parents have the box set. but i cannot for the life of me recall anything from it. just based on the premise though, i'll give it a strong 5/10

1980s

'allo 'allo!

girl... i forgor. i don't think so? i mean let's give it 3/10 for being set in france. also i have been reminded that there's an implied gay nazi, diversity win

blackadder (all series)

absolutely. "i cannot conceive", etc and so on. the crossdressing shenanigans. fry & laurie are there. just has a fruitiness about it generally. 7/10

only fools and horses

eeehh. all-male main cast but they're a family which hinders its ability to serve homo. generally giving very straight energy. 1/10 in case i forgot something

red dwarf

the fucking show that led me to make this ranking in the first place. grant naylor you will be dealt with. 10/10

a very peculiar practice

i didn't watch much of this and it was a long time ago but distinctly remember getting some kind of A Vibe. and looking it up apparently one of the main characters is canonically bi?? damn 7/10

yes, minister (and yes, prime minister)

look. LOOK. there's just something about it. it's the father of the thick of it which is british succession to me. also sir humphrey is homosexual there is literally no other way to read him nigel hawthorne told me himself actually. go and watch the homoerotic wispa ad 7/10

you rang, m'lord?

i actually haven't watched any full episodes of this but i must give it a 7/10 for the inclusion of CISSY the stylish 1920s aristocratic butch communist who could have walked right out of le monocle. love it

1990s

drop the dead donkey

this was such a deep cut i actually forgot it existed until making this list. i know i watched quite a lot of it to be honest but i can't remember shit other than that i liked one of the women's hair. i think it was pretty straight? NEVERMIND THERE'S A LESBIAN IN IT HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT A WHOLE LESBIAN 6/10

father ted

to be honest i don't think this comes from quite the same place homoeroticism-wise as most of the others on this list given that it's irish and not english (not to disparage oscar wilde of course!). catholic yaoi...? i really don't think so 2/10 for the catholicism also get fucked graham linehan

jeeves and wooster

let's be serious now. 9/10 i <3 gay people. i was raised on the books which also probably explains a lot about me... and naturally i have also always gotten severe gender envy from bertie

mr. bean

is mr. bean really considered britcom. can i leave him out. i'm going to leave him out

one foot in the grave

now i am certain i have watched this because i remember the theme song and vaguely the title sequence but i also forgot about its existence until this list. honestly i think it was just giving constant i hate my wifeism even the imprint where a memory once was of it that i have feels tiring 0/10

the royle family

painfully straight but in the way your irl straight friends are. if that makes sense. 1/10

2000s

black books

maybe i watched this at an overly impressionable age but like... it's giving. it's got the odd couple the domesticity the found family if you will. the m/f platonic relationships. also tamsin greig in that haircut? i remember always being so unconvinced that fran was straight that woman looks sooo lesbian 8/10 and FUCK graham linehan

the it crowd

very classic britcomism (you're my wife roy! you're my wife!!!) and i mean the guys snog on screen that is very much a thing that happened. also i just don't really think richard ayoade can totally play straight despite being a straight man. also the main three kind of have rancid bisexual polycule potential. also there's a goth. also i would watch gay! a gay musical. 7/10 AND FUCK GRAHAM LINEHAN!!!!!!

peep show

classic britcom homoerotic odd couple except one of them is actually bisexual and played by a bisexual actor. and the other is "possibly bi but basically uncurious". and they ALSO snog on screen. i haven't watched much of this to my shame but I Know What It Is 8/10

the thick of it

BRITISH SUCCESSION. i swear to god you would all be foaming at the mouth about this if it came out at a time and context to be big on tumblr. malcolm tucker god's worst bisexual 7.5/10 by the way that's an incredibly homophobic headline you massive poof!

2010s

ghosts

8.5/10 right off the bat brother firstly it's a six idiots show which already guarantees a high score but also it's genuinely very sweet with regards to canon queerness and the characters are flamboyant and lovable in a way guaranteed to attract the kind of queer fandom it has today. captain my beloved

upstart crow

i mean of course it's about shakespeare and it doesn't shy away from implying he's queer but the general vibe is not suuuper fruity. i'll say 6.5/10

vicious

this is what i'm TALKING ABOUTTT i'm so glad this show exists in the world. genuinely what would we even do if there WASN'T a show about ian mckellen and derek jacobi being a gay couple of 50 years who hate each other 11/10

yonderland

i feel like this makes ghosts too low but i wanted to put yonderland a bit higher for the sheer amount of environmental queerness knocking about in there and also the general campiness of it all. six idiots moment. 9/10 the elders are incredible ho-tan you will always be famous queen

2020s

staged

yeah. 9/10

-

thank you for reading 🙏 honestly i basically just made this for the appeal of making A List but absolutely feel free to argue with me about the ratings, suggest your own fav britcoms not listed here, et cetera

(also have fun spotting the same fucking people in half of them LMAO. i fear british tv is never beating the 3 actors allegations)

[sxorpiomooon]

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Masterlist

Pile 1-

More thinking less actually talking about it. You might talk to yourself alot or blabber alot? Alot of words that you say or are deep thinking about never actually see the light of the day and that's what they think. I see especially a women figure mother probably very worried and curious about this. They think of you as someone who knows very well how to hype others well someone who brings the light in people and you know the mood settler. Someone who brings excitement and they are always upbeat when you are near. However I think your family might be a little worried about you mainly because they believe that you hide alot from them especially your struggles it's like you refuse to talk about them or even acknowledge that they are there. There is also this theme about trying to ignore the past or let go off the past but not being able to. I keep having a vision of a person with their hands on their face there is a shame that this person feels as they wish to hide themselves/ their face so that other people don't look at it. Your mother or a women around you is the one that is the most worried and concerned she loves you alot and is waiting for the moment that you come up to them to talk. They believe that you bring light whenever you go and it's like you are the light. Your family also believes that you tend to hide your struggles this might be someone who might have had to protect their family from a very young age, someone with alot of burden on their shoulders and a belief that no one else can or should be handling it except them.

Pile 2-

The thought daughter. "You got your passion, you got your pride but don't you know that only fools are satisfied" from Vienna started playing in my head. Very warm and kind you might love winters or more so being able to hide yourself in big clothes, mufflers and fire near. You might daydream alot and might drink coffee or some other drink alot. "You know how to love better than most of us that's why you find it all so painful" from fleabag played in my head I heard "begging to be understood". You might feel as if no one understands you or your struggles but they do that's what you need to know. You might repress your anger alot in order to be kind or nice. I think your dad loves you the most he understands you it's in the way that he stares at you. Read books, philosophy, write in your journal and observe art you have a very long way to you. You have to understand and realise that people do see you for who you are especially your family. Someone very warm, kind and wise very good intuition and very connected to her inner voice.

Pile 3-

do you perhaps say the same thing alot of times because you are nervous or simply because you are not able to remember what you were gonna say next? Your family is patient with you. You have a good home I think if not good, you do have a home. You will always come back to your home and you will always have a place that will celebrate even your smallest goals. I think you make your house a home. You might connect all the family members with each other and even if there isn't much love between them they share this mutual love for you. You also have your community I think for this pile their family is not just their parents who gave birth to them etc but also other people that they have found over the years. You have a bigger family than the rest of the people. You are very celebrated. Are you good with decorations or surprises? There is something coming up regarding that I think your family might have wanted to do something for you alot of times but they fail because you are always two steps ahead. Your family might also feel as if they are a burden to you or perhaps you do more for them than they do for you? This might be a native household I'm also hearing a language I heard "their first time living too" and "maybe they really don't know any better"

Pile 4-

Oh they really fw however it's either that they think you are too much with your friends and about friendship or they believe and actually think of you as someone who is their friend and keeps a very friendly environment in the house. They might think that you like to party and have fun and also that people around you just have fun yk. Do you bring your friends to your home alot I see one in particular dancing with you dancing queen by ABBA started playing in my head. I heard "a very loving community". However they might also feel as if you have not yet discovered who you truly are. They might often worry that you are too fixed on the superficial thing and other people and pay no focus to your own well being I heard "emptiness and hopeless" that's not how they feel about you but that's what they believe that you feel about yourself. They might worry about your future and might want you to see things for what they truly are I heard "disregard for consequences". But they believe that you are someone who's very compassionate and composed.