sometimes me and my friend that also got badly fucked over by my ex will recall crazy shit that my ex did just to like, cope with humor about how absolutely unhinged they were/prob still are and how much mental strain it all was BUT OH MY GOD after our talk last week, I remembered how another glaring red flag should have been how ace/arophobic my ex was??? literally would rant and vent to me about how they don't belong in the queer community cause they don't face the same kind of oppression as "actually lgbt" people or whatever and like, whether the struggles they face are different or not, that's not a valid reason for them to be excluded? And you wouldn't be able to understand their struggles unless you experienced them urself anyway?
I still feel kinda gross for going along with them when they would say shit like this, but as I've said before, disagreeing with them was always too risky for my own well-being.
ANYWAY I KNOW I'M ACE NOW so thanks for helping me figure that out at least lmaooo
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you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.
you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.
he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.
a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.
he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.
you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.
people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.
wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.
also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.
he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."
you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.
"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."
he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.
you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.
is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?
you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.
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Echo curls up in the window seat of the apartment Fox has somehow acquired for them. It’s laden with the ugliest throw pillows known to Coruscant and a few other worlds. It doesn’t matter, each one was carefully chosen by their commander and that makes them the best pillows Echo has ever seen. He’s got a real flimsy book held up with one hand but he hasn’t looked down at the pages since Fox’s arrival.
Fives sidles up to Fox with a happy hum before he takes over unbuckling armor. “Well aren’t you a pretty sight?”
Fox doesn’t rise to the bait or try to slap Five’s hands away. Visible emotions aren’t really their partner’s thing but something flickers across his expression. He looks between Fives and then Echo before looking back at Fives. “Are we dating?”
Of all the questions…
Fives’s immediate reassurance breaks off as he doubles over with the force of his coughing.
That leaves Echo to take over. He half stands before he realizes that maybe Fox wants the space—that their commander wasn’t on the same page after all. Instead he stays put and makes sure he catches Fox’s gaze. “We were under that impression, yes, but if it’s not what you want then nothing needs to change.”
“Oh.” Fox says.
He doesn’t jump to reassure them that he wants them in return but that’s alright. Any immediate answer Fox could give wouldn’t be true. It’s honestly a point of pride that Fox trusts them enough to tell the truth.
Meanwhile, Fives stops dramatically choking on his own spit long enough to go back to helping with Fox’s armor. He isn’t immediately pushed away, so that’s also a good sign.
Echo watches from his window seat and hopes.
There’s not much physical difference between Fox’s blacks and their own, but it still soothes a possessive nerve to see Fox replace his dirty blacks with Echo’s. It’s his favorite set, the one with a little tear down the side mended with a decorative stitch in blue.
Fives scoops up the dirty blacks and scuffed armor to do maintenance on in the other room, shooting Echo a sharp look as he does. That is where he deviates from routine, pausing this time before he kisses Fox’s cheek to give their commander time to pull away.
Fox does no such thing. He leans into the touch, tipping his forehead to rest against Five’s. Then he’s pulling away to drop onto the seat next to Echo. “So if you thought we were dating, I’m guessing you’ve already filed the paperwork?”
That draws Echo up short. Sure he doesn’t abide by the regs as strictly as he used to, but surely he would have known if there was paperwork. “For dating?”
“Mm.” Fox isn’t looking at Echo. “We’re in different battalions. I’m head over the military police force. That’s more than enough to be a conflict of interest.”
“Fuck. We can get it done tonight if you…” Echo breaks off when he catches a telltale amused twitch of Fox’s nose. He shoves their commander with a bright laugh. “You bastard! Who taught you a sense of humor?”
Fox’s lips tip up ever so slightly at the corners in the closest he ever comes to a genuine smile. “I found these parasites in the drunk tank. I think their bad habits are starting to rub off on me.”
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Me going on a chaotic adhd rant about how I came with this idea on how to be a legendary robber and never get caught: “Ok so you get a kangaroo and you train it how to hold a gun, it doesn’t need to actually be able to fire it just hold it and point it at people, then in its other hand you have it hold a sign that says “give me all your money and put it in my pouch”, and unleash it in a bank or something. Honestly you might not even need to give it a gun, kangaroo’s are terrifying have you seen those videos of them stealing peoples dogs and trying to drown them!? People would instantly be intimidated and comply with the sign!! And the cops couldn’t even stop me like what are they going to do arrest a kangaroo?? It’s the perfect crime!”
Mammon:
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JeanMarco in which Jean slowly falls for Marco while Marco always thought they were a couple is so funny to me guys like you don't understand how much I love this concept of, you know,,, Jean having this realization that he's in love with his best friend and getting so anxious about it because what if Marco doesn't feel the same??? Mikasa was proof enough that confessing wasn't an option, he didn't want to ruin their friendship. But man doesn't he love Marco so much.
Meanwhile Marco is like 'Man I wonder what my boyfriend is doing right now' while working on his ODM with Armin. 'I can't wait to spend some time with Jean, maybe we will go star watching tonight'. To Marco they're already married with two kids coming soon. Don't ask him how he gets hold of two kids, he's working on it. The idea is that they are together your honor
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