#so if anything i sort of expect that again

[wordsinhaled]

so, edwin enlisting charles’ help in learning how to kiss, right?

charles being like, “all right. before we get started, show me what you think you know about kissing.”

and edwin looks at him nonplussed. “charles, i do not know anything about kissing. that is why we are taking part in this ex—”

“nah, mate, i know that. but, like, you’ve got to have some idea, yeah? like… what you’d do in 1908, or whatever.”

“i was eight years old in 1908.”

“you know what i mean!”

and edwin is all, “…fine.”

and he sort of… sits lost in thought for a minute. charles is expecting him to go in for a very chaste peck, or something. even a kiss on the cheek.

but edwin reaches for one of charles’ hands instead. picks it up delicately, curls his fingers around charles’ in a loose but undeniable hold that charles could pull free from, if he wanted.

edwin dips his head, and glances up at charles through his lashes as if for assent, and then he raises charles’ hand to press a brushing kiss to charles’ knuckles, not looking away all the while.

“charmed, i’m certain, mr. rowland,” he murmurs, still bent low over charles’ hand.

and just as quickly, he’s let charles’ hand drop again, is withdrawing his own back to his lap, looking at charles like he’s expecting to be graded.

and charles is like, what the fuck??? was that??? blushing. completely flustered. gobsmacked. taken out at the knees. can a hand kiss make him fall in love???

[monstersflashlight]

do you have anything about some sort of reptile-based monster that involves hemipenes? i think it’s a very cool way to do double penetration with only one top

A/N: First part of this was one of the stories in the 10k followers event (find it here). Enjoy!

Lizard-brain: the research

Lizardman x fem!reader || double penetration, hemi-peens, tail play, light choking, exhibitionism, dirty talk (low key)

When he pulled out, you felt your holes twitching at the same time a mechanical voice said from the speakers: “You did well, researcher, very interesting data was recorded.” Shit, you forgot there were people watching and probably saw you get fucked within an inch of your life. All your coworkers just watched you getting double creampied by a giant lizard-man. Great.

You were allowed to go home after that, your boss telling you to go clean yourself and the next day you could go over the data with them. Your lizard mate wasn’t happy about it, but he complied knowing he could see you the next day. You felt many emotions when you left the place, not ready to name any of them, you only showered and went to sleep, your body sore in the best way possible.

You arrived to the facility next day, and the first thing your boss said was: “We need you to do it again,” you looked at them confused, what the fuck did they mean.

“What?” You asked, looking at the monitors in the wall to try catch a sight of your mate.

He explained some of the data they collected, but how it was still very early in the research to know for sure, that’s why they said: “We need more data, and you are his mate after all.” You looked at him with understanding, your scientific brain already working all the possible conclusions of all the data collected so far and how much more you could know if you kept it. But also...

“I need to talk to him about this,” you told them. You had feelings for a big monster, and he considered you his mate, there was a lot of possible ethical problems there.

“Oh yes, it talks. True.” They said, but like it didn’t matter at all.

That infuriated you, but you swallowed your complaints, trying to understand why you felt so protective over him. And then it clicked, mate bonds weren’t only one way, he felt the mate bond, but you felt it back. You cemented your bond with sex and now you felt tied to him the same way he was tied to you. That realization should have scared you, but only made your stomach flip with butterflies. You had a mate. And that came with a new goal in mind: demonstrate that lizard-people could go outside and live like equals to humans. That started with proving your mate bond was true and necessary, scientifically. And if that meant to be fucked in front of some researcher, so be it.

The talk with your mate went as well as expected. He was more than okay with the idea of fucking you again, but not so keen on the idea of other people being there. But the head researcher insisted it was important for somebody to be in the room with you to catalog fine movements and reactions that cameras couldn’t capture. You agreed with them on that, that’s the only reason you accepted (nothing to do with the fact that you might or might not have a bit of an exhibitionist kink).

And that’s why you were naked over a medical bed with your lizard-man mate over your body and a researcher standing a few meters away. Your pussy was already wet, needy and desperate to be filled to the brim again. Your lizard mate was looking at you intensely, caressing your body with one hand as he jerked his upper dick with the other. You knew this position meant big dick downstairs, and you were already anticipating the stretch.

He approached you and rubbed his small upper dick against your entrance. “Good job, keep going,” the researcher instructed. “Touch her pussy.”

Your lizard stopped and turned to look at them. “Don’t tell me what to do with my mate,” he growled, making the researcher step back and cover their mouth. “You are here because she wanted it, but I will kill you if you say more,” the danger in his tone indicated he wasn’t kidding. And it made your clit tingle.

You reached up to touch his face and redirect his attention to you, rolling your hips to feel his dick against your needy pussy. He pushed his dick slowly, breathing hard over you, his eyes never leaving yours. You could hear his tail thrashing behind him as you caressed his head with your short nails. He purred, making you giggle as he pushed his upper dick a bit further inside your pussy. The groan he got in response made him chuckle as you felt his claws probing your asshole.

“Are you going to be a good mate today, too?” His question was filled with hope, and you could only nod, trusting him and his magic precum to make it possible. Seeing as you woke up without any pain, you guessed the magic was more than great and would help you out this time around, too. “Such a good mate for me, your holes are so perfect,” he was talking to you but not really. He seemed far away, like your pussy was transporting him into another dimension.

He started rubbing his big dick against your asshole, and you instantly felt the calmness and relaxation of his precum, allowing him to push the tip inside. You cried out, way too big. There was no pain, but the stretch was noticeable as he kept going, and going, and going… By the time he was fully inside you were breathing hard and he had crazed eyes. It was intoxicating.

“How is he doing that?” The researcher asked out loud, stepping a bit closer and earning themselves a warning growl.

“Ssssshut up!” Your lizard mate hissed in their direction, his pace fluttering at the distraction.

“But I-” The researcher tried again.

You looked over at them, trying to move your hips to get your mate to move again. “I will fill a report later,” you told them between pants.

“But I-,” they insisted.

It was enough. “SHUT UP!” You yelled at them as your lizard man stopped moving completely to glare at you, surprised. “Shut the fuck up and I will answer the questions, but you won’t be able to get any responses if you don’t shut up and let my mate fuck me senseless,” you let out between your teeth.

Said mate liked your outburst very much, soon grabbing your face forcefully to look at you. He started fucking you with intent then, the combination of his dicks inside of you driving you insane in a matter of seconds. He reached you neck and squeezed, feeling the vibrations of your moans against his hand and increasing his thrusts to make you lose your mind.

You felt something different this time, the tip of his scaled tail reaching around his body to rub against your clit. The textured surface made you see stars and the universe as he played with you in every way, taking your pleasure to the next level. It was exhilarating, your mouth open and your head thrown back as he fucked you like a machine.

He lowered his body, whispering against your ear: “Come for me, my mate, let me feel your holes milking me.” And like a good girl, you exploded into a million pieces as he growled over you and painted your insides with his cum.

This time around he didn’t stop, though. He kept fucking you for what felt like hours, probably were. You forgot everything about research and people watching, you forgot everything about your boss and the world. You could only focus on his dicks inside of you and his tail rubbing your clit until you came so many times that you had to ask for mercy, which he sweetly complied. He kissed your forehead and pulled out, leaving you messy and exhausted.

Once again you found yourself creampied in front of all your colleagues. Your job was suddenly a lot more interesting than two days ago.

[rcmclachlan]

Heard this was the place to come if we wanted to know about pregnant Buck talking to the baby about the station tasks 🤔

@dadvans is a dirty enabler. He's also the one who came up with the idea of Buck calling the kid "probie" fyi

+

When Tommy walks into the 118, it doesn't feel quite like a homecoming, but when Bobby catches sight of him and smiles as though Tommy's presence isn't just welcome, but expected, something inside him relaxes as though it were twenty years ago and he's about to walk up the stairs to sit down for another incredible family dinner. 

"You guys get called to the thing with the Aon?" Grinning, he shakes Bobby's proffered hand as a matter of course, and part of him can't help but glow under Bobby's approving gaze.

It feels a bit like he's cheating on Captain Salazar, who took Tommy under her wing the second he got to Harbor and has given him free rein to do whatever he damn well pleases when he's in the air, but she doesn't cultivate the familial aura that cleaves to Bobby like a shadow. He likes and respects the hell out of her, but he probably wouldn't steal a helicopter and fly into a hurricane for her.

Some people were meant to be parents; Bobby Nash is definitely one of them. Tommy's working on it. 

Bobby gives a sporting but ineffective swipe at the soot smeared across his forehead with his wrist. "Normally falling space junk knocking over a skyscraper would take the cake, but since twenty million bees weren't released into the city, I'm calling it a ho-hum sort of day."

There's something severely wrong with them that the third-tallest building in LA breaking in half like a Kit Kat Bar doesn't rank above bees, but Tommy had to fly through that shit storm, so he can't disagree. The next person who says 'bee-nado' is getting thrown off the Santa Monica pier.

Speaking of. Tommy throws a quick glance at the three engines parked in their usual spots in the hopes of catching a glimpse of movement, and he's either losing his touch or never had it to begin with, because he's clocked immediately.

Bobby gives him a knowing look.

Caught, Tommy chuckles. "At the risk of sounding patronizing, how much did he overdo it?"

"Buck didn't mind being on winch and hose duty," Bobby says wryly. At Tommy's dubious look, he adds, "Okay, he did try to sneak into the thick of it once or twice, but he complained only a little when I threatened to hogtie him and chuck him in the back of the ambulance."

"Only a little? That's unlike him." Tommy can perfectly picture the mulish pout on Evan's ridiculous lips because someone forbade him from running into a building that was hanging at a 240° angle. 

"Hen may have also hinted that she'd break out The Powerpoint again if he didn't stop whining," Bobby admits. The capital letters are audible.

Tommy gives a low whistle. "That was diabolical of her."

He unfortunately hadn't been there when Hen presented You're Living For Two: A Comprehensive List of Things Buck Will Avoid for the Next 8 Months or Hen Will Have Him Committed (With A Foreword Written By Maddie Han) to Evan and the rest of the 118, but Eddie had texted Tommy throughout the whole thing like he was live tweeting a football game. At slide 40, which had five charts demonstrating the rates at which acute physical stress increased the risks of miscarriage and low birth weight, Eddie sent him a picture of Evan's cowed expression. Slide 43 ("Deli Meat A No-No"), on the other hand, got him a video of Evan in a heated argument with Hen, Howie, and Bobby about the merits of that. 

It ended when Bobby shouted, "It's not just you that you're risking, Buck! Every time you deliberately put yourself into harm's way, you're also risking my grandchild!" and Evan burst into tears and sobbed, "You can't say things like that when you're taking hot dogs away from me!" 

When Evan came home that day, he announced that mentioning The PowerPoint—and anything to do with Microsoft in general—was verboten for the next thousand years. Tommy couldn't help but quip, "It looks like you're upset about your family wanting you to carry this pregnancy safely to term. Would you like help? Yes, no, or cancel?" 

He was forced to sleep on the couch for three nights. He regrets nothing.

"Where is everyone?" The station is eerily quiet for a day spent trying to get ahead of a falling building.

"Burrito run. Buck volunteered to stay behind. He still getting carsick in traffic?"

"Let's just say we've been putting the emesis bags Howie gave us to very good use. Is he busy?" Tommy lifts the bag in his hand so Bobby can see the grinning face of the Colonel himself. "I come bearing gifts."

Bobby laughs the laugh of a man who knows firsthand that Evan's insatiable cravings for KFC's mashed potatoes are the only thing keeping the lights on at the location on W Pico Boulevard. He gestures past Tommy toward the engines. "Last I saw him, he was giving a class on proper hose maintenance."

"Appreciate it, Bobby," he says and starts heading in that direction.

"Tell him he'd better not be promoting bad coupling habits." Tommy turns around, wide-eyed, but Bobby's already got a hand up to forestall the laughter he must know is inevitable. Bobby's grimacing so hard it looks like he might severe his carotid. "I regretted it the second I said it. Do me a favor and phrase it a little better?"

"I make no promises." Snickering, Tommy turns back to the engines and swings the KFC bag cheerfully as he goes, making a mental note to mention this in the OG 118 group chat. That ought to give Howie enough ammo to last through Christmas. 

As he rounds Engine 3, he hears the susurrus of voices, which he expected, but as he gets closer he realizes it's just one voice, which he didn't. He comes to a stop right where the engine's rear strip on the storage compartment ends and ducks behind it a little to try and figure out exactly what he's looking at.

Bobby had said Evan was teaching and Tommy figured that meant he was holding court with the station's two newest recruits, but he's kneeling on the floor and carefully re-rolling a hose while he talks to an audience of precisely zero.

"Now this is called a straight roll," Evan says, voice modulated to be slow and easily understood. It's textbook perfect pacing. Tommy has no clue who it's for. Maybe he's filming a video? "I'm folding the male coupling over and then rolling it to the female coupling, which are unnecessarily gendered terms, but I wasn't in the room when they came up with the names, so."

Tommy's so distracted by how the muscles in Evan's arms strain against the sleeves of his uniform as he methodically rolls the hose that he almost misses what Evan says next.

"Now Daddy wants to do a Dutch roll, because it takes about five seconds and it's hilarious, but Grandpa Bobby would slaughter Daddy if he ever found out. Apparently letting the couplings drag on the ground is the eighth deadly sin." Evan rests back on his shins and pants a little, then pats the planetary curve of his belly with a grin. "Hope you're taking notes, probie. There will be a test."

There are two things in Tommy's life that he will never be able to forget, even if he had a full-frontal lobotomy; even if he wanted to:

The first is the way Evan's shoulders curled inwards as if bracing for a blow while he haltingly apologized about goading Tommy into fucking him after the condom ripped, about how Tommy didn't have to worry because Evan was relieving him of all responsibility, and that he didn't have any expectations because Tommy never asked for this and he hoped someday Tommy would forgive him for keeping what they'd accidentally created together. 

Tommy isn't a violent man, but sometimes he fantasizes about going back through Evan's life and beating the shit out of everyone who ever made him feel unwanted, or treated him like a consolation prize. Even in the early days of their relationship, when Tommy's respect for certain boundaries or simple acts of kindness would make Evan visibly recalibrate, Tommy had to stop himself from demanding a list of names. He has one now, and part of him would like nothing more than to start with Evan's parents and work his way down.

The second is the teary, disbelieving grin that broke across Evan's face like a sunrise when the sonographer pressed the ultrasound wand to his belly and the room filled with the jackrabbiting whup-whup-whup sound of their kid's heartbeat. Evan had looked over at him, laughed wetly at the struck-dumb expression Tommy knew he was sporting, and said, "Sounds like the Bell 206." 

When he reached out for Tommy, the fluorescent lights had glinted off the engagement band Tommy'd bought like a complete lunatic four months after Evan kissed him in the lobby of First Presbyterian. He'd kept it hidden in his toolbox until three months later, when Evan put on a brave face and tried to let him off the hook. 

But he didn't have far to go, because Tommy was already reaching back for him. The metal of the ring was warm where it pressed against his fingers. And if his heart was so full of love and wonder that he cried a little, no one commented on it. Well, Evan did when they got in Tommy's truck after their appointment and then went straight to KFC, but that was to be expected. He'd taken the ribbing like a champ. 

Watching Evan—now in the second week of his third trimester, the hem of his shirt fighting for its life where it stretches around his belly—earnestly teaching the kid still cooking inside him about proper hose care, Tommy knows he'll never forget this one either. He's pretty sure his life is going to be one unforgettable moment after another from here on out.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he walks out from behind the engine and gets a hand under Evan's elbow to help him get to his feet. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stand back and let Evan carry the hose over to its compartment and attach it to the main connection site himself. He's learned to grit his teeth and give help only when it's asked for. He has no desire to start up that argument again.

"So?" Tommy happily takes Evan into his arms while Evan happily takes the KFC bag out of his hand. "Is our kid going to graduate from the Academy or wash out completely?"

Evan grins at him. Tommy knows at least 45% of the love in his eyes is reserved for the mashed potatoes. "I'm calling it now: they're gonna be fire chief by the time they're twenty. Youngest in the entire country. What do you think, probie? You up for the challenge?"

Tommy places a hand gently on Evan's belly and immediately feels movement against his palm. Their kid hasn't given Evan a moment's peace since week 15; at any given moment, they're flipping around in there like they're doing zero-gravity training for a space mission. The familiar fluttering feeling makes his heart cramp. 

That's their kid in there. They made that.

"I think that's a yes," Tommy murmurs, pressing a kiss to Evan's temple, then hanging there for a moment, breathing him in. Breathing them in. "Love you."

"God, I love you so much, you don't even know," Evan says, cracking open a container with a pleased hum.

Tommy smiles dopily, then reality trickles in. "You're talking to the potatoes, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Evan lies through a mouthful of KFC's finest spuds.

[nix-nihili]

"kiss me."

it's a whisper, soft and breathy, and when charles doesn't say anything at first, edwin wonders if he'd said it at all; if the words had ever made it past the terrified tightening of his throat to sit between them like a ticking time bomb.

but the arms wrapped around him, grounding and warm as the sun had been on a crisp, bright day when he could still feel anything beyond his own orbital path's personal sun, tighten, loosen, then tighten again.

finally, charles pulls back from the embrace and stares at him – catalogues him. edwin resists the urge to shrink away. this is charles after all. charles who has seen him at his very worst in Hell. charles who would burn the world before ever even thinking of hurting him. charles who he is wholly, surely, utterly, in love with.

charles who may love him back.

edwin almost expects charles to pose a question, to ask him if he's sure? as if he could ever not be sure about this.

but charles doesn't do that.

there are hands on edwin's face, cupping his jaw, his chin, his cheeks, gently, oh so gently. another arm brackets his waist, pulling him flush against charles, closer than they already were. edwin sucks in an unneeded breath, his own hands suddenly unsure of where to rest but he doesn't get a chance to properly panic because-

because-

his first kiss had left him feeling like a fish out of water; surprised and confused. all of it had happened so quickly that edwin hadn't gotten a chance to process much of it at all.

but when charles tilts his head closer, closing the gap between them with a gentle tremor in his frame that edwin mirrors, the surprise that accompanies it is for an entirely different reason.

charles kisses like he's afraid. charles kisses like it's his last. charles kisses like he's withholding.

edwin shall not have any of it.

with a crashing tidal wave of confidence, edwin reaches up to hold charles' face, one hand sinking into his curls as he deepens the kiss. there's a gasp, the hand on his waist tightening, and edwin takes advantage of the opening with fully formed intent until they're both crushed together, utterly unsure and uncaring as to where one of them begins and the other ends.

it doesn't matter. none of it matters. all that matters is the positively sinful sounds charles seems to be unknowingly making, causing edwin to sink and fall and topple into the all-encompassing pit that is charles rowland.

a tick, or two, or a hundred pass before they finally separate, panting with the force of it all.

"that was-" charles starts, then stops, gaze flitting all over edwin's face with an entirely different sort of cataloguing aim. edwin finds himself doing much the same: charles looks delightful, cheeks barely coloured crimson, curls falling out of place, and eyes wide.

his lips look thoroughly kissable, a quality edwin had not realised could be heightened and he almost pulls charles in again before charles says- swears, "I love you."

there is a place in edwin's chest that once contained his beating heart, an organ that had only found itself thrumming away thrice after his death: twice in hell and once in port townsend.

and then, here, standing across from charles, does edwin find his heart restarting to the sound of those words. the three words that leave him reeling far more than the kiss ever could have. the three words that pull him closer to the centre of his orbiting pathway to leave a softer, but just as searing kiss.

"I love you too," he says into it with a smile and a beating heart and a love that is mirrored.

[funkyplantguy]

established relationship scarian where scar finds A Creature of some sort (dealer's choice) and starts in on the whole "Can we keep it?? 🥺🥺" routine to grian

i was originally going to go with a cat, then a baby warden (listen idk) then an ACTUAL baby...then landed on this (and giggled and kicked my feet the entire time as i wrote it). hope you enjoy :D

scar: g scar: grain scar: grian scar: light of my life scar: where are you? scar: i have gift grian: fishing dock scar: shoulda guessed scar: be there soon <3

grian stretched, quietly groaning to himself as his back (and wings) crackled in delight at the movement, tired of the endless hunching they’d endured over the past several hours. a gift from scar (especially an unexpected one) was sure to be…interesting. they’d been together long enough that scar knew what grian liked, of course…but sometimes…the “gifts” his partner would bring him would be more for scar’s own personal amusement than anything else.

not that he really minded, of course. not when that meant getting to see scar light up like a kid on christmas. scar was always so full of life - always giggling over something or other - and it just reminded grian of why he’d fallen in love with him in the first place. and honestly, that was gift enough for him.

despite all of that, he wasn’t quite expecting scar to bring him something...alive.

grian heard the chirping from the small bundle in scar’s arms before the man had even landed, and couldn’t help the inquisitive trill that forced its way out of him in response. and that, of course, set scar off - mimicking the noise with his own (very human) vocal cords (which only served to produce a melody akin to being strangled). he stared at grian with wide eyes as he touched down, and grian felt his cheeks burn under his gaze.

“g! i’ve never heard you make that noise before - that was so cute, do it again!”

“no,” grian chirped back, then pressed his hand against his mouth as scar laughed in delight. “scar - what is that?”

“it’s a baby!” scar responded, moving closer and tilting the bundle in his arms towards the avian. “look - it’s a little you!”

grian uncovered his mouth to retort - he very much doubted that scar had somehow found a baby avian wandering around hermitcraft - but another quiet chirp caught his attention, and he found himself leaning forward to peer over scar’s arms. and there, nestled in a pile of soft, brown blanket, was the ugliest baby parrot grian had ever seen in his life. and yet..and yet…

grian didn’t even realize that he was whistling until the baby returned his birdsong, eager little chirps and gurgles spilling out of its little fleshy beak. it tilted its head up at grian, blinking, and grian offered up a trembling finger into the makeshift nest. the chick nuzzled against it, purring softly, and something in grian’s heart felt like it might burst. he raised his face to his partner, and found scar’s gaze transfixed - but not on the parrot in his arms, but him. their eyes locked, and scar offered him a smile - something soft and warm, something that made grian want to kiss him more than anything in the world.

“can we keep it?” he whispered, and grian let out a short (wet) laugh.

“i…scar, where…where did you even find it? it’s so little…i can’t imagine its mama would have been far; she’s probably worried sick…do you really want to take the little guy from his mama?”

scar’s lower lip wobbled (and grian felt like he might be the worst person in the entire world for it).

“he didn’t have a mama! i sat and watched and waited for hours, gri, and nobody came for him…he was just all alone, on a branch in the jungle, and i got worried that something was going to come along and eat him! and…well…i figured you’d know how to take care of him. given that you’re…y’know.”

he gestured toward grian’s colorful wings with one hand, and grian’s feathers rippled obediently in show for his lover. from scar’s arms, the tiny bird chirped again, raising its little head and struggling to flap its wings in the same way grian had fluttered his. scar looked down to the parrot, then up to grian, eyes wide and sparkling as he jutted out his lower lip.

“see! he agrees! he wants you to be his new mama!”

(and if grian’s heart fluttered in his chest at the suggestion of being a mother, that was no one's business but his own. that was a topic to be discussed later - much later, in the warmth of each other’s arms and the shield the darkness their room offered for grian's vulnerability)

“we could name him…um…jeffrey!”

“scar - we are not naming our son jeffrey.”

“our son???!??” scar parroted back, jerking his head up from where he had dipped it to stare down at the chick in his arms. “our son??? so…we can keep him? really? you mean it?”

“yes, scar. i mean it,” grian responded, smiling softly at the hopeful peep from the newest member of their little family. “we can keep him.”

(and the way scar pulled him into a kiss, then, was the greatest gift of all)

[herefortheships]

One of the biggest reasons I feel like Beetlejuice 3 is needed is that Beetlejuice Beetlejuice felt (to me) like there was no payoff. I'd have to rewatch, but I feel that the only aspects in which Lydia's and Astrid's lives improved comparing the start of the movie to the end, is that Lydia is freed from Rory and Astrid got to see her dad again, all of which was only achieved thanks to Betelgeuse's intervention.

Lydia was not happy at the end of the film, in contrast to the end of the first movie where we see her happy living with the ghosts of the Maitlands (in addition to her actual dad and stepmom). If anything, even though Rory is gone, Lydia is perhaps lonlier and more unhappy than at the start of the film, after the death of Delia and her father Charles. Rory might have been toxic but whatever idea or feeling of support she had from him is now gone too. We don't know if Astrid will still be attending the boarding school or not, so if Lydia truly quit making her show, then she is also more alone than she was at the beginning.

Betelgeuse also did not get rewarded after spending the entire movie working hard to sort of prove himself to Lydia and show her his love was genuine (despite the few scenes where he truly scared and disturbed her [the Beetlebaby for example... ew], but even though I don't excuse him, I also understand that these dark aspects of BJ's personality just come with the package, with him being what he is, it's something he can't help). In the end he was dismissed despite keeping his part of the agreement, as I'm sure he expected he was going to be, based on the song choice and, what many fans have pointed out, how he didn't do anything to stop Lydia from saying his name and sending him away.

What I'm getting at is that, in the end, the movie left a feeling of there being no payoff, even though technically "the good guys won". When there's no payoff, the story feels incomplete and/or empty in the end. At least we had that scene at the end to confirm that Betelgeuse is not truly gone, which left the door open to the possibility of a third and final part to this series. So even though I do like an open ending, in this case it just feels like this movie just set the stage for a continuation.

Maybe not everyone would agree, but it truly feels that with what this movie set up, the ultimate payoff would be for Lydia and Betelgeuse to finally get married and complete each other's stories. I wish the next movie will focus on Lydia, so that her choosing him feels organic and entirely her own choice.

[menlove]

what do you think of paul’s relationship with maggie mcgivern? it’s one of the less talked about relationships he’s had

it's very interesting to me! i found myself deep diving on it for chapter one of i need you (never leave me alone)

some of the things that stand out about it to me are:

it's interesting how she talks about how most every time she hung out with paul, she was also hanging out with john. like it very much throws a wrench into the whole "they weren't even friends they didn't hang out with each other beyond business by those later years" thing some biographers parrot (& cynthia seemed to have believed)

along with THAT, she was also on the 1966 paris trip they took while john was filming how i won the war. she talks about how they laid on the grass looking at the eiffel tower together. and like. all that sort of makes me sit there and go "hmmmmmmmmmm" and ponder if they had a bit of a threeway going on lmao. i have like 0 evidence towards this beyond just the vibe i get when she talks about her relationship w john & paul while she was with paul but like.... it's super interesting bc john was so SO blatantly jealous of all of paul's other partners, but not maggie? and she also seems to be like really fond of john when she talks about him which. again. SUPER super different compared to literally every other woman in paul's life who basically goes "that guy fucking sucked, he was a menace, i don't get why paul was so into him" like..... maggie seemed to adore john right along with paul and i just look at that dynamic and go HM.

she was also one of the women paul asked to marry him (although apparently like in a very weird & vague sort of way) when he was freaking the fuck out in 1968 for No Apparent Reason

and there's a LOT of questions i have about his whole. showing up at her house the night before he married linda crying and not saying anything before leaving forever like ??????? what was THAT about? it's not like maggie was the one true love of his life or anything, i don't think he's ever talked about her, like. what the fuck was it abouttttt i'm so beyond curious

and then ofc he ghosted her and basically dropped her for linda around the summer of 68 without a proper breakup after she said no to marrying him which is super shitty. it's just interesting bc before that it seems like he treated her better than his other girlfriends & she has nicer things to say about him than like, francie or jane. but it still is very much like. he was using her in a deeply upsetting way and i wonder how she looks back on All That

edit: ope this is starting to get notes which i didn't expect it to so here's the source that i used when writing the fic that talks about her. it lists its own sources although not super thoroughly so- but i really don't think there'd be much reason to lie about a random paul gf so. take it w a grain of salt but also i'm inclined to believe it lmao

[https-sourlimes]

home meals with you! . . .

featuring – aventurine x gn!reader

synopsis: there was a lot going on in his head... perhaps he thought, your cooking was too good for him, and he never deserved you at all...

consist of: 1k2+ word vomit... aventurine is a nervous emotional wreck, and if i say it's angst to fluff would you believe me? mentions of food, and marriage (champagne problems referred iykyk), domestic life w aven.

sincere regards to my pookie @akutasoda for helping me brainstorm an idea and proofreading; my favourite aventurine kisser @theother-victoria for proofreading <33

quality time was the love language that AVENTURINE did not know that he possessed. he never knew a thing or two of the reason why or when it started, but when he stirred awake by the warmth of sunlight streaming down his face, patting on the mattress beside him then found it empty, he'd end up dozing off again on his belly in your secured arms when he found you by the living room's couch; his weekend was dedicated to you, and he just wanted you with him, to selfishly ask for the affection that you showered on him always and think it would never be enough.

spoiling you until he's broken broke is what aventurine concepts. to him, gift giving is the effortless love language that he can express, whilst the four remains never worked out on the aventurine who lived in the orbit of lies and contract. he thought that it'll be easier that way, and he is slowly letting love once again thaw away his dense heart, and the one who did it so perfectly, much to his expectations, was you. then, to his surprise, the idea of you demanding shiny, glamorous luxuries or brands vanished when he found himself with you in the oti mall, browsing by the groceries, picking up the fresh ingredients of your liking, instead.

"i love homemade meals," you told him – and aventurine couldn't help the fond smile he was wearing when he looked at you tiptoeing to reach the higher shelves for the pasta box of your favourite and the childish excitement in your eyes as you skip back to him to show him what you got. and then suddenly, aventurine feels like he loves homemade meals, too.

does the image of you – putting your hand around his arm, aimlessly strolling through the shop while he was pushing the cart, your thoughts were elsewhere between the ingredients of the upcoming meal and never noticing that you were making his stomach churn – thrive him? i bet it does. because he can not concentrate, his eyes fixed on you, nodding mindlessly to whatever you're planning to make tonight (it doesn't matter because he will swallow it whole) then find the lamest excuses to kiss you, your hair, your face to satisfy his most intrusive demands. you are the biggest treasure that he has ever prevailed, he noted. you were trusting him entirely, giving unconditional love, staying by his side. how can he possibly live without you? you're driving him nuts!

and when aventurine's tongue touched the first bite of anything you made, sweets or savouries, he imagined filling his stomach full with your unyielding love, the one that undoubtedly never failed to remind him that he was yours truly to be cherished, to be taken care of. undeserving of you? yes, inevitably, or maybe that was just his thoughts; so aventurine found himself savouring every moment with you in the kitchen, invading your attempts to cook and stealing kisses, he knew he was going to dedicate the rest of his life to the person he intended to marry and to love you harder than you do to him.

aventurine never dares to dream about a family with you, he couldn't bring himself to crave it when the past of failing to protect his own in sigonia haunted him like some sort of ghost, everything feels illegal. the thoughts exiled the golden boy in prison of indecision and despair,... and then he stumbles upon the last words leaving his mouth when you mention wanting a betrothal life with him. he didn't feel ready yet – he'd fail you, (at first!), and it was disheartening. you said you understood and were there with him the entire time, but aventurine knew he was the problem, not you.

aventurine wanted to confide in you that he would be lying if he said his eyes weren't tearing up at the sight of you waiting patiently until he is ready, until he surpassed all of his trauma and reached his final decision. he knew he never deserved you, no matter how hard you'd been trying to make him feel like he did, he would then die for you, gambled all of his existence over again just to lose it all to your overpower love.

aventurine was a coward, he claimed. he couldn't bring his messed up life that once considered so insignificant that it was traded as some goods up for auction, and a chip he brought to bet in his high stakes with treacherous risks to dedicate to you, it was unfair for you, he couldn't be selfish. it was excruciating that he couldn't refrain himself from basking in your unconditional love, even if, to him, it was forbidden.

and when he had you pressed against the wall, aventurine lifted your chin up and kissed you fiercely with the best of gratitude and love, mostly to shut you up and to soothe his aching heart when he heard you repeat that you understood with that agonizing voice once again, aventurine said he was sorry, that he would do better and sort this out quickly to make everything up to you properly. it pained him to see you wait so voluntarily for him, he was trapped with hesitation, between letting himself love you with his entirely heart and the thought that you'd definitely deserve someone better than him?

but when on a beautiful friday, aventurine's heart burned selfishly with the swelling sight of you, wearing an apron so breathtakingly, humming to your favourite song on the phone sat beside the counter, the delicious aroma you're stirring filled his senses, his breath hitched, it felt like as if you had already been his spouse, cooking dinner, waiting for their husband to be home, and to his utmost selfish thought that spoke louder than all of his logical minds, just, what if... someday you got tired and gave up on him? would he be able to see you looking like this ever again?

"Kakavasha..."

he opened his eyes, the real name of his that you let slip so easily from your soft lips felt like a salvation; he hummed in response, gently holding your hand on his face as you looked down at the sleepy man on your lap. aventurine caressed the shiny cold material with a small exclusive gem he selected himself attatched on top of it that wrapped perfectly around your ring finger, contentment was written all across his face. ah, yes... he has been sleeping in his spouse's lap, no?

"can you please get up? it's almost past lunch and we haven't had anything properly," you sigh, the chuckle you let out helplessly.

aventurine stirred slightly before lazily sitting up, scooting closer and snaking his arms around you, holding you snuggled against him while he buried his face in your hair, sinking entirely in your presence.

"mhm... sit still. just a little longer. lunch can wait, i'll swallow them whole everything you make, anyway."

So if, once again, your husband dozed off on your lap on a calming sunday morning, make sure to do something with it. if not, please be prepared and stay strong with a clear mind or you'd end up getting charmed by his antics which he knew so well that it touched right in the soft spot for only him in you. (or you might as well pay him back with your own cooking technique, one of the reasons he married you home and loved you so good...)

© 2024 https-sourlimes. all rights reserved. (banner source: aventurine's eidolons 5 from official honkai: star rai art)

ending notes: *sigh* this man is making me feeling things. ❤️‍🩹 and tagging @synqiri because this cutie asked to be here <33

[koolades-world]

So, request for the Obey me boys (main and side). When I'm emotionally stressed or overwhelmed, I get the urge to clean (especially if my space has been needing it). So, how would they react to an MC spontaniously cleaning anything and everything in that sort of state (Dishes, Floors, surfaces, their own room, etc)?

hi! sure thing!

i relate to this on such a deep level. it's when i get my best cleaning done LOL. having a crisis? suddenly the room is the best it's looked in months

posting this instead of spellbound because getting my car took much longer than I expected. spellbound will be tomorrow for sure :)

enjoy <3

Mc who spontaneously cleans

Lucifer

he may just have to marry you on the spot

his brothers aren’t exactly the cleanest bunch and sometimes he feels like he’s the only one making an effort

he might cry if he comes downstairs one morning and the kitchen is sparkling

Mammon

if he’s not the messiest bitch ever… no shade but there’s no way his room doesn’t look like it was hit by a tornado

however if he ever sees you cleaning he'll try his best to help

he will also try his best to keep things tidy to make it less work for you <3

Levi

I can’t explain it but something about him screams neat freak to me

but, this only applies to his spaces because it would be too much work

he applauded your efforts because more than once he’s cracked and just deep cleaned everything haha

Satan

he’s clean when he wants to be

and most of the time, he is. the only times he isn’t is to piss off lucifer even though he’s just going to drag him back to do it anyways

after seeing how hard you work, he never does that again haha. he would hate for you to have to pick up after him

Asmo

somehow clean but messy at the same time

he won't stop you if you want to go to town cleaning up his makeup pallets and what not

afterwards though he makes sure to treat you <3

Beel

definitely the guy that takes three plus showers a day lol

he always asks you to make sure he's picking up after himself though just in case

he appreciates you and everything you do :)

Belphie

if you think he's tidy, i am so sorry you are wrong haha

will complain about an area being dirty and then proceed to ask why you were cleaning it up

however he will thank you every time he notices you've tidied up :)

Diavolo

despite the fact that he has a whole team that cleans for him, he hates to leave behind a mess

so, he always insists you get him when you get the urge to clean

everything is better when you have someone by your side! besides, he'll take any excuse to be by your side

Barbatos

you know him, he’s incredibly tidy to the point that it’s almost impossible to find a mess in the demon lord’s palace

but in the rare cause you’ve beat him to it, he’s grateful since it’s rare he gets help

afterward, you’ll be having tea together, his treat

Simeon

he also seems like his things are always clean no matter what

it's almost like he's magic at the rate at which messes vanish

he will feel bad if he sees you cleaning, and will take over

Luke

both of his dads (simebarb sorry for kinda sneaking this narrative in here lol) are both neat people, so it only makes sense for him to be too

after all, he wants to be just like them!

if he catches you cleaning, he will instantly join in

Solomon

he seems like he would live realistically, not too dirty, but also not too clean

if things are a little cluttered, he's alright with it because it looks lived in

if you do spontaneously clean, he'll try his best to make it up to you with his cooking!!

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part Ten)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

"You need to get out of my room," you told him in a packed state and Cillian nodded before he quickly untangled himself from you and started to get dressed hastily. His face was flushed with a mix of shame and worry as he tried to pull his clothes on as quickly as possible.

"Quick, put something on!" Cillian whispered frantically as you, throwing your shirt at you that was lying around on the floor.  

You moved quickly, pulling the shirt over your head as you slipped out of bed and hurriedly pulled on your underwear and pants up too. 

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, and you swallowed hard, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you as you heard your mother's voice.

"Cillian?" she called out , her voice was calm, but something in her tone sent a chill down your spine.

"Fuck," Cillian hissed, his face panicked, knowing that she might see him coming out of your room.

"Can you come down and help me with the bags?" she then called out, from the bottom of the staircase, which led directly to the bedrooms.

Cillian's entire body stiffened. He didn't know what to say or do, but the urgency in your eyes prompted him to make a move.

"I'll be right there, Marion!" Cillian shouted back, trying to keep his voice steady and calm before he nervously exited your room and, as soon as he stepped out of the door, he saw your mother, having walked half-way up the stairs already. 

Her gaze was laser-focused on Cillian, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "What were you doing in Y/N's room?" she asked, but not suspecting anything inappropriate, even despite Cillian's disheveled appearance/ 

Cillian swallowed hard, trying to think up a plausible excuse on the spot. "Oh, I was just... checking on Y/N," he said, forcing a smile. "She seemed a bit down earlier, so I wanted to make sure she was okay."

Marion raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by his explanation.

"Well, I am about to have a word with her," your mother responded almost angrily but Cillian blocked her way up. 

"Let's get your bags in first," he suggested as he tried to divert your mother's attention for as long as he could.  "Despite, I think she needs a little alone time this morning as she had a fight with one of her friends,"  he added, searching for any excuse that could buy him a few minutes.

Your mother looked unconvinced but eventually relented. "Fine," she then said just before Cillian followed her to the car.

"Why are you even home already? And where is Sadie?" Cillian queried Marion  as he was loading bags into the house, still rattled by the encounter with you.

"Sadie is with Cliona, who is taking her to the park so that I can sort out the bloody drama Y/N has caused again,"  your mother said with a frustrated sigh.

Cillian froze, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach at the mention of your name and the implied drama. "What do you mean by 'the bloody drama Y/N has caused again'?" Cillian asked cautiously.

"Oh god Cillian, did you not read the headlines?" she  asked, her voice laced with disdain. "The fact that she broke her house arrest and had you pick her up from the police station is all over social media," she went on before pulling out her phone and showing it to him.

"Well, thank god I don't do Facebook," Cillian chuckled, brushing off  the news to lighten the mood. 

Marion sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Cillian, this is serious.  Y/N is constantly causing trouble, and I can't believe that you didn't even call me when this happened. I mean, why didn't you?" she  asked, looking at Cillian with confusion. "I would have expected you to tell me if my daughter got arrested."

Cillian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't want to worry you while you were enjoying some time away," he said, honestly. "Besides, Y/N asked me not to tell you. She was afraid of your reaction. Clearly rightfully so."

Marion scoffed. "Afraid of my reaction? She should be more afraid of the consequences of her actions," your mother spat, causing Cillian to become a little more protective.

"She didn't smuggle the drugs, Marion. She found out who framed her and went after her," Cillian began to explain. "And yes, it was a hotheaded decision that got her into trouble again, but her solicitor is sorting it now, so you can relax, alright? Just give her a break,"  Cillian insisted before taking the last bag from your mother's car.

Your mother, Marion, simply sighed in frustration. "Hot-headed is an understatement, Cillian. You know as well as I do that her reckless actions might not only ruin her own reputation but also affect yours and your career," she pointed out, but Cillian only shrugged it off.

"My reputation is fine Marion," he replied, unbothered. "Besides, Y/N's actions speak to her character, and I'd rather have a stepdaughter with courage and a backbone than one who's silent and obedient."

"You are too lenient," she said before calling out for you.

"Y/N, can you join us in the kitchen, please?" she called out.

All characters are over 18.

You sighed, knowing that you were in for another lecture about your choices and how they affected your family's reputation. You walked into the large, open-concept kitchen, where your mother sat at the kitchen island, looking expectedly while Cillian was standing by the sink, trying to avoid your gaze. 

"We really need to discuss your careless actions, Y/N. They are unacceptable and affect us all," your mother began with a pointed look in your direction as you stepped in front of her, wondering whether she could smell her husband's scent on you. 

"And what makes you think you have the right to lecture me about the decisions I make?" you shot back, looking at her, wanting to tell her what you just did, but of course, you wouldn't have. Revenge was not what your interactions with Cillian were about. 

"I have every right to lecture you," Marion countered coolly, still not missing a beat. "I am your mother and you are staying in my home, so you listen to me," she  asserted, reflecting an air of authority.

Cillian stepped closer, moving to stand protectively by your side, his presence a small sense of comfort in this awkward situation.

"Marion, let's just take a step back and take a deep breath," Cillian advised, his tone gentle, but firm. "Being angry won't solve anything."

Your mother huffed in response, before she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. "Are you taking sides now?" she then asked him accusingly, turning her steely gaze towards Cillian.

"I am just trying to be reasonable," he replied, maintaining his neutral stance. "Because I think that you should actually hear Y/N out," he went on, looking at you, then on to your mother, expecting her to listen to you.

You looked surprised at Cillian's support, but it brought a small sense of relief which, unfortunately, for you, was short lived.

"What is this on your neck?"  your mother asked abruptly in a stern, disciplinary tone, piercing the tense silence in the room.

Her sudden query was followed by her hand extending forward, hovering over the side of your neck where Cillian must have left a red mark during your heated sessions. 

"It's nothing," you muttered quickly, flinching at her sudden touch.

"Alright, well, anyway...," she continued, lowering her hand back to her side, although her eyes remained fixed on the spot. "I am not going to tolerate another breach of your house arrest, and I expect you to behave yourself during your time here," she said with a sternness that was even rare for her.

"Yes, mother," you sighed deeply with a slight roll of your eyes, trying to downplay the situation.

"Don't be smart and go and have a shower. You look like a mess,"  your mother said, glancing over you one more time before turning to leave the room.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you once your mother had left the room, her judgemental gaze no longer lingering on you.

"I need to get out of here," you muttered under your breath, shifting nervously on your feet while Cillian came closer.

"And hopefully you can soon, even though I will miss your company," he said quietly  , placing a hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch burned through the fabric of your shirt and sent a shiver down your spine.

"I will miss you, too," you confessed as you finally looked at him, meeting his eyes. There was a distance between them both, yet a connection electrified the air, like a magnetic force drawing them together. "Last night was nice and so was this morning," you whispered  to him, almost inaudibly.

"It was," Cillian agreed, his voice low and soft. "More than nice, in fact. But what happened between us cannot happen again and, as we had agreed, let's not mention it again," Cillian murmured. Despite his composure, his eyes showed vulnerability and depth-filled with desire. 

You felt a pang of regret, knowing that your-selfish desires had led you to an unexpected path. The connection between you two was an unstoppable, powerful force but you knew that acting on it could only end in tragedy, not just for you and Cillian, but also for your family. 

"Agreed," you thus said before asking him for one more favor. "But I just have to ask you for one more thing," you hesitated before catching a lock of loose hair that had fallen across your shoulder and twirling it between your fingers nervously.

"What is it?" Cillian asked, his eyes on you, waiting patiently for your answer.

"I...I need you to go to the pharmacy for me,"  you requested Cillian, hesitation in your voice.

Cillian raised his eyebrows but quickly schooled his features. "Are you feeling okay? I mean, after, you know...," he asked, a hint of concern etched on his forehead.

You hesitated for a fraction of a moment, gathering your thoughts. "I'm fine, it's just... I need the morning after pill," you finally managed to squeak out.

Speaking the words aloud made you cringe but you knew this was the responsible thing to do and, of course, Cillian agreed.

"Of course, I'll go," he replied casually, as if you had asked him to get ice cream instead.

"Thank you," you murmured gratefully, releasing your breath in a soft exhale as Cillian stepped closer to you, brushing a gentle strand of loose hair off your shoulder.

"Do you need anything else while I am there?"  Cillian asked, his voice gentle and caring but you shook your head.

"No, that is all," you replied quickly, forcing a smile.

Cillian placed a hand on your lower back, his fingers gently brushing against your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. The gesture was so small yet so intimate that it made you feel both exhilarated and conflicted.

"Okay then, I'll be back in a few," Cillian said softly, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly stepped away from you.

The way he looked at you, filled you with such a deep longing, it was almost overwhelming.

"See you soon," you whispered, watching him walk towards the door where he paused and looked back at you, one last time before he left.

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[drbased]

ok I have to talk about 'the dialectic of sex' by shulamith firestone because it was one of the first proper feminist books I read and I didn't have the confidence back then to address this book:

so this is still the only book I've read so far that actually uses the words 'radical feminist' - except her definition of this politics is essentially transhumanist luxury space communism. because her understanding is that the 'root' of women's oppression is our reproductive capacity and therefore no matter what happens society will never fully be able to share the burden of childbirth and child-rearing across both sexes.

this book feels so evocative of its time - like there was a small window of pure hope shortly after the invention of the pill and the hippy movement where everything entirely changed for women. like, think about it: up until that point unless you use some sort of condom (which men don't like using - and also not 100% effective anyway) you're basically always vulnerable to being impregnated by a man during piv, which is considered the basic form of sexual intimacy wth men, which women are expected to engage in to be considered full members of society. so women would have all been in some sort of constant state of low-key fear; one sex - or rape - away from having a child that would change their entire existence. that's got to really fuck you up, especially your relationship with your own body. and you could get an abortion but only if you're incredibly lucky, and still getting an abortion is probably more like surviving a car crash than anything - like you're glad you made it through but also you're still damaged psychologically and probably physically as well. and it's such a silent fear as well - because women are supposed to want babies and babies just happen so you're not allowed to complain that this is because your husband always wants sex and he's the one who impregnates you but if he does people say 'she got herself pregnant again'. like there's layer upon layer of psychological terrorism surrounding men's impregnation of women and that's gotta mess you the hell up.

so the invention of the pill - holy shit, just imagine it. the hope. you can take the pill in secret, you can take the power back, you're not uniquely vulnerable to your own bodily forces anymore, that gives you time to fucking think, to be alive, to feel, to feel vulnerable, to feel free. it's like literal magic. if the most basic of happenings - pregnancy - can be actually prevented, then what else can we do to the body? what else can science do for us?? how more free can we get?? It's women's first time to (ironically) feel like a god, able to transcend the body. I'm actually surprised that I've not found more writings like shulamith's - that there weren't more women spurred on by this amazing discovery into further transhumanism. I guess the problem was that women were starting to notice that whilst women were able to change their own individual lives with the pill, that wasn't making men behave any differently.

but I still find it fascinating how this definition of radical feminism hasn't survived at all. as it stands on radblr, the 'root' of women's oppression is men, and therefore the only real solution is separatism. but like, what happened to the brand of feminism that says, uhhhh isn't it actually kinda fucked up that half the human race are burdened entirely with pregnancy, birth and child-rearing? and could we maybe be freed from that if we used science to bring about children another way? I'm not even agreeing with her that that would solve everything (because regardless even if we *could* make babies in a tube, that doesn't mean all women are going to magically become infertile, and it certainly doesn't mean than men are going to be less violent against us), but I'm very interested in questioning what the 'root' of women's oppression is - because modern 'radical feminism' has a lot of gaps to allow for a simplistic narrative that I'm sure many in the community, definitely myself included, are rapidly tiring of. and I think it shows in the separatism debate, which rages on because no one can think of any other solution, because the unspoken tenet is that what the 'root' is is solved and agreed-upon, and therefore the answer is just so damn obvious that the women who don't agree must be scared and stupid. I've been wanting to address this in some form or another for years now, and I guess I'm dipping my toes in it now.

at the very least, I'd like to know if someone has a good source on where the term 'radical feminism' came from and how its meaning has evolved over the years. in ariel levy's 'female chauvinist pigs' she touches on this debate that started in the late seventies that led to the fracturing of feminism and the creation of liberal feminism - and it seems to be along these same lines of separatism vs fucking men. I've always found it odd that there's essentially no middle ground here - like you don't need to embrace 'sluttiness' in order to want to have a healthy sexual relationship with a man, but it seems the liberal feminist side chose that, meanwhile the only other 'mainstream' option seems to be separatism. obviously a lot of the women in radblr don't actually fully agree with that - but all us hetties are suspiciously silent on that subject.

to me the issues with separatism go further than simply sex with men - sure it's psychologically good for you to only purchase from women owned businesses and only read books by women etc etc, and it financially uplifts other women. but also we live under capitalism, which obscures our reliance on each other. when you buy from that woman-owned business, the person delivering your package is likely to be male, the person who assembled the vehicle he drives is likely to be male, the person who constructed the roads he drives on is likely to be male. this is not to say that men are vital - but rather, your 'separatist choice' is a fundamentally capitalistic one that exists more for your peace of mind than being anything actually radical - as in, nothing about the 'root' of women's oppression is addressed in doing so. there's no ethical consumption under capitalism yadda yadda. and only speaking to women irl is also less of a capitalist action but still ultimately an individual one. there's so much emphasis on personal actions as the height of feminism and it screams liberal individualist to me. like you took 'the personal is political' and ran with it.

but if the root of the problem is men, then that's simple, isn't it? just don't interact with men. don't have sex with men. don't pay men, apart from the men who happen to be an inescapable part of the supply chain, they will inevitably get paid by your actions anyway, but you don't have to think about that because that's what capitalism does: it makes you think you have this magical power as an indvidual to make real radical choice in the world, to 'vote with your dollar'.

I'm not exactly calling for firebombing a walmart but I'm bored with the capitalism-loving individualistic liberalism of what this community calls 'radical feminism' - but that same thought-terminating cliche keeps getting thrown at us: 'we're radical, which means we grasp at the root, and the root is male violence, so you can't call yourself a radical feminist if you don't want to do the basic things of not wearing make-up and not fucking men'. and nobody ever seems to stop and question, does any of that actually address the root of our oppression? capitalism isn't the only economic system that has ever oppressed women, but it's the one we live under, and it's very good at sneaking into the backdrop of our lives and naturalising hierarchies - capitalism becomes its own justification, e.g. women choose low-paying jobs just because that's what we gravitate to, yanno?

being genuinely anti-capitalist recomplicates politics all over again, because suddenly it's not an easy men vs women but also men vs women vs rich people, some of whom are women??? and like, what's the solution to that? do we stand with men agains the capitalist system and risk our voices getting silenced, or do we go full single-issue and just go fuck it, capitalism was created by men for themselves like solanas said, so if we stand against men then idk capitalism will just sort of fall by itself? or in reality it's just not addressed at all. separatism itself always sits there as a thought-terminating cliche in and of itself - an accusation ready to be levelled at anyone who wants to question any of these unspoken tenets of radblr. and the goal-post is ever-shifting - separatism is women's land, but if you say that's not a real solution in our capitalist interconnected world then you get accused of not wanting women's spaces because that's obviously what separatism has been about this whole time. also separatism is not fucking men, actually it's not about that it's about prioritising women (vague), and on and on and on - the argument always shifts so the word stays pure. but like, is separatism an end-goal? a political tactic? something you do to enrich your own life and psyche? something to give space for consciousness-raising? I saw someone ages ago claim that the suffragettes wanting the right to vote was somehow separatist because idk, the women were making spaces for themselves? but wanting to involve yourself in male politics is literally assimilationist, no??

I'lm going to stop rambling for now but this was good to get my thoughts out there - I enjoy my theorising in this space but I'm also deeply interested in questioning. I've noticed time and time again that discourse is always stopped by 'you're not a real radical feminist if you do/don't do x' and I've found it really odd and telling that no one's questioned that? like sure I know we've built our whole political framework on 'words mean things' but also it's always worth questioning the definition of 'radical' and what the 'root' of our oppression is, and what we can actually do to address it, and if our narratives and assumptions are too simplistic. the community would be all the better for it imho. I already think the influx of 'tirfs' in the community and the khelif debate has been opening up these unspoken simplistic narratives on the nature of gender vs sex, of socialisation vs low-key biological essentialism, and I think we can push that kind of questioning even further. ramble over.

[carlyraejepsans]

You think Flowey feels some sort of weird…gratitude in a King Mettaton ending? His parents are gone, the memory of his failure is all but erased and what remains is being worked down by a new king who would want nothing more than to forget for himself, and with Chara not here the tale of the fool that was Asriel Dreemurr can finally fade.

I'm gonna be so real with you cjief, i don't think flowey feels much of everything towards any neutral ending personally. i think the moment frisk appears on the stage ("i could never predict you" etc) his focus shifts entirely on them, with everyone else as background noise. the rest of the cast is a source of connection or separation between him and The Human He May Or May Not Believe To Be His Dead Best Friend. i think in any non major ending (ie anything asides from pacifist) flowey expects the player to reload/reset and try again. so he just doesn't indulge whatever hypothetical future we teased through our choices this one time. he just waits for you to get bored. because be knows you will

[roachfun]

This is probably a wild thing to get but your “Gojo should stay dead” post has got my unmedicated ass vibrating.

(I’ve only read jjk0, besides that literally all of my exposure has been via 3 video essays and fanfic… I basically got into the series backwards and tbh it’s an interesting experience…)

And tbh I agree with you more than not. Even though the view I have of the character is so fucking warped because jjk fanfic is too the gills filled with smut.

Because what I’ve gathered from the video essays and the few bits of fanfics that actually tried getting into his mind… is that the man is gd tired.

A god complex the size of the sun, that’s only ever been challenged once by one of the few people he ever formed a genuine connection with, and it was challenged as that person was leaving him. That incident may have motivated him to change, but that change was predominantly if not exclusively external, he didn’t really do much self reflection.

After Geto left, Gojo did better (became a teacher, warding Megumi, not letting Yuta be executed) but he didn’t work on being better (god complex, recklessness, belief that his way is the only way with no real consideration for the effects those decisions have on others)

He’s selfish, arrogant, and reckless, he doesn’t seem to take much of anything seriously and that may be a persona (again, I haven’t actually read jjk yet… the ending of mha did the characters, narrative, and audience so gd dirty I need to know how jjk ends so I set my expectations accordingly) but I can very much see this man never really developing his sense of empathy because he never really had any stakes… like he has some understanding, but the god complex and the fact people around him constantly reinforce it… he can’t put himself in other people’s shoes, there’s a detachment from reality that would read as delusional for anybody else, but he has spent his entire life being told he is the strongest with nothing ever being able to prove him wrong.

Than on the flip side of that god complex, honestly for a good while, and still sorta kinda… to me he reads as passively suicidal. (I know “Word of God” can be controversial regarding character analysis because of its absence in the base text) but the fact Gege’s rough rundown of Gojo’s daily schedule was basically “he sleeps for about 3 hours and spends the rest of his time working, his sweet tooth is actually somewhat practical as he uses sugar as a stimulant.” That’s not good for your noggin. Add the isolation caused by his status and his god complex, I see him coming to the conclusion that the only way he should die, is in battle.

And he did! Even if wasn’t in the “final sacrifice that ensures he becomes a legend” sort of way I think he would’ve hoped for.

But that also felt… right? (Certainly not fair, Gege openly admitting he kills off fan favorites for the shock value does dampen the possible emotional impact that could’ve been achieved… but I digress)

Every time Gojo fights, and I mean properly fights, he’s smiling, it’s a game to him, a chance to show off, to assert his dominance and reaffirm his status… so him dying so suddenly that his legs are still standing as his upper half falls to the floor, he’s lying there choking on his own blood as he bleeds out and Sukuna saying it “cleared his skies” (weird phrasing, but I think that’s a cultural/translation thing) it could’ve been a gut punch of a tragedy that amped up the stakes of the final conflict! The protagonists’ trump card is gone in a handful of panels and a flick of the wrist! He’s bleeding out on the ground as the big bad seems to reach a moment of genuine inner peace! But the backtracking and Gege’s history lessened that significantly

tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Shonen Jump had something to do with it… the motivations for Gege’s writing choices are questionable to me (it feels spiteful and cheap) but they’ve been consistent until now, what changed?

Anyway it is… 5:45 am… I should be asleep, but I’m here vomiting character analysis based on partial information in your inbox… I hope you have a good day/night/whatever is appropriate for when you receive this

I hate that you had me read all that, but I couldn't agree more with most that you said (except maybe where you call him selfish and I lowk think geges killing system is fair and I like it a lot but🤷).

Anyways, I don't know how to really respond to this since you basically did all the talking lol (plus I'm tired from reading all that and just got out of school).

I do have a question tho. how did you start with jjk0??? Like how does something like that happen. Also you haven't watched the anime or anything😭???

Anyways, thanks for dropping this essay on me have a good day/night or life in case we never speak🩵

[misstwisted]

raaaaant time

so, I am very upset over the new Menéndez brothers series that came out. If you’ve seen it, you probably know why. Before I go into this, if you don’t know about this case, the menendez brothers had murdered their mom and dad in 1989 as self defense, fearing of them soon murdering them themselves, after suffering years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse by their parents hands.

for context I am a long time supporter of these men. I’ve known about this case since I was around 12 (unsupervised internet access, lmao) and I supported them then and I support them now.

This series is fucking disgusting. And not just because of the atrocious, disrespectful, and weirdly comedic relief portrayals of these traumatized men, no no no, it also of course just had to include sexualization and Incestuous fetishization of them. I was SO EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE watching these scenes. I’m sure it’s all supposed to show how their father had fucked up the brothers relationship and how he blurred the lines for them of what’s appropriate and not appropriate to do with your family, but this crosses a god damn line. It’s possible I’m also giving this dumb fuck director too much credit. Idk if it’s just me, but this feels like a writers barely disguised fetish moment. So many scenes felt like the start of a porno, and at times DID BECOME A PORNO!!!!!

I remember so many times of me yelling out loud in shock “WHAT IS THIS SHOW????”

the dialogue is trash, the pacing is trash, the portrayal is trash, etc. The only part I personally think was great was when they recreated the footage of Lyle and Erik walking into court. When I was watching it I felt they really looked and acted like the brothers at that moment. And the fact it’s surrounded by such garbage is sad. It really felt disconnected from the other episodes and scenes because of how much I enjoyed that little moment. And they weren’t even talking or anything.

There’s only like one word I could use to describe a lot of the scenes, especially the sexualization scenes, which is: unnecessary.

Gotta be honest, I really wanted to like this show! Thought it could bring back attention on this case again. Show empathy towards them. But no, I had to watch two actors portraying real life traumatized brothers kiss each other.

I am seriously wondering now if Ryan Murphy wanted two actors with romantic/sexual chemistry casted on purpose for what seems to be some sort of fantasy of his.

I started this show YESTERDAY, I am halfway through episode 7 right now. I wanted to see if it’d get better, and it just never did. But honestly? It’s my fault. What did I fucking expect from a Netflix series that’s directed by the guy who made GLEE? I’m still mad now, but I can’t even describe how even more upset I was yesterday watching it.

I legit could probably go on for days about how disrespectful this show is, and good on Erik for not being afraid to call it and the directors out.

It’s in vain to say this, because obviously they’ll never see it, but: Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan you two are pieces of utter dogshit. What about any of this was a good idea? You guys deserve to be sued for thinking this was okay. You deserve it for making Dahmer, and you deserve it for making this. I don’t even wanna SAY all the horrible things I think about you guys. All i hope is nobody ever hands you two a god damn camera again. Sincerely go fuck yourselves.

I know I’m being a dramatic little bitch again for the 100th time but this is truly horrendous. This isn’t just a story you can add shit to and get creative with, guys, this is their LIVES. These are real human people with dignities and families that care about them. They’ve been disrespected enough, the fact that they were sentenced to life in general just shows how little people empathized with them.

This audacity of this being made. This very serious story of trauma being turned into this weird comedy show.

what is this RPF, Ryan Murphy? ARE YOU BORED??? How about you go make a actual fucking difference? Cause you know what, Erik and Lyle are, and they’re the ones who’re incarcerated!

that’ll be all.

[batbeato]

Sending a another ask btw but it's then a conflict of interest then you suppose? Cuz i feel Ryukishi's gonna post a redux edition of ciconia in the form of silent hill F to be honest to try to tie it back to wtc. String of fate reference, tezuka cast vibe, or even a behind the set vibe. Like a vent post of his working experiences as a social worker and how he wants to write as a hobby about without losing his job or smth like that.

I don't really have to the right to say this cuz im not a full time author but is this train of thought correct?

I feel like authors always have personal desires they want to put into their works, even commission works. But so long as they focus on balancing their own creative energies with the wishes of the client, they'll be able to create something great. Ryukishi was probably hired because they wanted his unique creative energies to be put into a Silent Hill project. With his non-07th works, whether it's good or mediocre is always a mixed bag, but I'm still excited to see how he handles it.

Ryukishi has put out a variety of works since Umineko. If I was to list anything that's a vent work, it would be Higanbana. It talks a lot about bullying at schools, the uselessness of / abuse by adults, and has a lot of violent retribution towards those who hurt children. Ryukishi is the creator of 07th Expansion, so while his staff might sometimes ask him to tone something down (like how he scrapped Ikuko Tohya marriage due to staff), he has a lot of creative freedom there. If he has limits, I'd presume it's more of a resource problem (they're a small indie company) than anyone limiting him. Even the hiatus of Ciconia seems to be due to Ryukishi worrying about the current world events and how they parallel Ciconia.

I don't think Ryukishi will be using Silent Hill F as a place to vent, since he's had plenty of works in the past that he could use (and has used, with Higanbana). He's also still writing Ciconia when he finds time. I think he's a professional, so he'll be able to use his experiences and thoughts to enrich Silent Hill without taking away from its identity.

[reineydraws]

wanted: marine hunter takanome mihawk