#that is just not. recognized or discussed basically ever

[myrkulitescourge]

imo karlach’s soul coin usage seems like it should have been a little more significant than it was.

she only ever really stops to consider the magnitude of burning through a person’s soul for power during an origin playthrough—otherwise she rationalizes to the player that they’re doomed anyway, and if using them gives her an edge in combat, why not use them for good instead of leaving them to be used by evil? the dialogue with lann tarv in act 2, where he tells the story of each soul he's handing over to her, tries to humanize each soul coin, and still she doesn’t really budge and disapproves pretty heavily if she's told no in regards to using them.

it just seems like something that could have caused some kind of conflict between her and wyll, given he sold his soul to a devil in dire circumstances and takes issue with the player for sleeping with mizora, because she 1) is mizora, and 2) similarly expends tormented souls during her romance scene, even if for a different purpose. but it just... never really comes up?

i love karlach. but that seems like it should have gone Somewhere, from a writing standpoint? karlach values wyll as a person but is willing to use currency forged from souls like his for the sake of a temporary power up. she knows the soul is consumed when she uses them. that whole exchange with lann tarv is there to emphasize that every soul coin she destroys was a person once. but it all kind of loses narrative purpose if this combination of factors doesn't mean anything? karlach doesn't change at all in her willingness to use soul coins, no matter what the player says or how much she cares for wyll.

idk. missed opportunity that wyll doesn't have any dialogue about this, of all things.

[theromanceofaffliction]

i wonder what upset the tiktok kids about metallica. was it the alcoholica era (endorsing/promoting addiction)? was it james's anger management issues + crypto-neoliberalism + passion for hunting (actually something you can have an opinion on and find fault with)? was it lars and the napster situation (also valid)? was it the jason lore (messy until you see what he's said about it recently)? im so intrigued

[hugintheraven]

How Bethesda fixed Vampires without realizing it

So there's a LOT of takes on vampires across media, and most of them are radically different from each other. The Elder Scrolls series has an interesting version that I haven't seen anywhere else, that incidentally fixes a bunch of lore issues with vampires, and yet Bethesda hasn't ever really leaned into any of that.

So, the issue with vampires in large RPGs like Elder Scrolls games, D&D, etc, is that a world where various elements of character building are supposed to be balanced, vampires are heavy on the upside and light on meaningful drawbacks. So in Oblivion, Bethesda completely reworked their vampires, coming at it with a blank slate:

Vampirism is a 4-stage affliction, with each stage increasing the numerous benefits of being a vampire as well as the middling drawbacks. Stage 4 brings with it all humanoid NPCs recognizing you as a ravenous monster and attacking you, basically wrecking the game. And, this is the unique part, you reduce stages by drinking blood. Being a vampire is LESSENED by doing the most vampiric thing out there, it actively makes you weaker.

And this is great. From a gameplay perspective, you vanish below ground to kill zombies/robots/whatever, and you grow stronger as the dungeon goes on. But if you don't rush through it, or if it's large, you surface having ignored your hunger for several days and have to do a whole second quest to sneak into town at night and drink blood, where the only reward is to engage with the game again. It's a drawback in the gameplay sense rather than the stats sense. And it lets game designers throw the player against weak vampires in town early on, and face dungeons full of max-bloodlust monsters later once the player knows how things work.

Meanwhile, from a lore perspective this is also great. Suddenly, it's not that vampires have to be evil, it's that they have a choice. A good person who flees their family to hide in a cave is going to starve, turning into a ravenous, uncontrolled, extremely strong monster. Someone who's comfortable sneaking around town drinking blood, meanwhile? They never lose control. They walk in the sun. They're perfectly human. Or as human as anyone can be while the blood of their neighbors flows in their veins.

And Bethesda doesn't DO ANYTHING with this. People you talk to in-game just treat it as "all vampires are evil, why would you expect anything else", when they've created a world where vampire morality is so much more interesting. The few vampires who exist in civilization that you're not supposed to kill don't really discuss their condition at all. And there's plenty of evil vampires choosing to live in caves running societies of vampires, when that makes no sense compared to basically any other way of life they could set up.

Bethesda games are a masterful disaster, in this as in everything else.

[roosterbox]

Had this random thinky thought the other day.

Pre-S4 Steddie are dating. Have been for a decent amount of time. They haven’t told everyone, but a few people know (Robin, Dustin). The thing, though, is that Wayne doesn’t know. Oh, he knows that Eddie has a boyfriend. He’s seen Eddie’s eyes light up like stars when he starts talking about this boy. About how beautiful he is. About how strong he is. And, most often, about how kind he is. After the buildup he’s been given, Wayne is pretty positive there’s no way for this mystery boy to live up to Eddie’s description. Especially with how loveblind his nephew is. But if the way Eddie lights up at the mere thought of him is any indication, he must be something special.

“Invite him over for dinner sometime, son. I’m dyin’ to meet this guy.”

Eddie agrees. And plans are made. But for whatever reason, said plans fall through. And keep falling through.

But then.

The events of S4 happen.

Steve manages to save Eddie, like he should have done in canon (but I digress). They end up in the hospital, and someone gets in touch with Wayne, who shows up almost immediately. And who does he see at his unconscious (severely injured) nephew’s bedside but Steve fucking Harrington.

Now I’m not saying that Wayne assumes the absolute worst upon seeing ‘King Steve’ Harrington in that room (the worst being that Steve has something to do with Eddie’s condition), but he does make his assumptions based on what he knows and remembers about Steve’s parents (especially his dad). Said assumptions are… not great.

He basically kicks Steve out. And Steve just… goes. Robin tries to protest on his behalf, but Steve tells her it’s okay. “Eddie needs him now,” he says.

Eddie doesn’t wake up for several days. Any time Wayne isn’t with him, Steve sneaks in. And gets kicked out again when Wayne comes back. Wayne, for his part, is getting more and more exasperated with his dedication.

But then Eddie wakes up, finally. Wayne and Dustin are there when he does. The latter leaves to give Eddie and Wayne their privacy for a tearful reunion, but he also calls Steve. A little while later, Steve shows up. He and Wayne lock eyes, and Wayne bristles a bit. He’s straightening up, preparing to kick him out yet again, before Eddie turns. And his entire face lights up in a brilliant smile. His eyes sparkle like twin stars.

“Stevie!” He says, imbuing the name with more emotion than Wayne ever expected.

Steve almost trips over his own feet to get to Eddie’s bedside, where he takes Eddie’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. He looks like he might cry.

And Wayne suddenly understands everything.

He lets them talk for a moment. They’ve seemingly forgotten he’s even there. There are soft loving affirmations, sweet names, and maybe even a kiss or two, before he clears his throat. The boys spring apart (Steve springs, at least), but don’t let go of each other’s hands.

“I really wish we could have gotten to meet each other over dinner instead, boys,” he says, gruff as always.

Steve looks nervous, but Eddie’s just embarrassed.

“Uhm,” Steve starts.

Wayne gently cuts him off. “I think you and I might have gotten off on the wrong foot.” And that wrong foot is entirely on me, he thinks.

Eddie looks between the two of them, confused.

“That’s okay,” Steve is quick to say. “You were just-“

Wayne cuts him off again, moving to the other side of the bed, hand outstretched.

“Wayne Munson.”

Steve hesitates, exchanging a glance with Eddie (who’s still terribly confused), before taking Wayne’s hand with his free one, shaking it.

“Steve Harrington,” he says as if Wayne didn’t recognize him on sight a few days prior.

“It’s nice to meet you Steve.” Wayne smiles. “Nice to finally see for myself the kid who makes Eddie smile like that.”

There are further discussions to be had. Eddie is angry (and a little heartbroken) to discover what’s been going on while he slept (“YOU KICKED HIM OUT HOW MANY TIMES???”), but in the end, it all works out. Eddie’s name is cleared. He (and everyone else!) makes a full and complete recovery (plus a few gnarly scars). And Wayne finally, finally, gets to sit down to dinner with his nephew, and his nephew’s boyfriend.

[cardentist]

this is all gonna be very disorganized and rambly, but

"the male loneliness epidemic" as a concept is like.

does anybody remember when it was common knowledge in feminist spaces that part of the Point of feminism was recognizing that All groups of people were negatively impacted by sexism?

I Remember the ridiculous "mens rights activist" era. I REMEMBER feminist talking points at the time pointing out that it was Toxic Masculinity that contributed to things like men not being able to be vulnerable with the people who care about them, or men (or Boys) not being taken seriously as rape victims.

and the point of this Wasn't to blame men for their own pain, to blame men for the system that they were negatively impacted by. but to point out how Feminism Was Meant To Help Them. how it was Sexism that needed to be dismantled to address the things that these very ridiculous men were angry at feminism about.

and now it's just like.

not only have people not learned this lesson, it's becoming increasingly Extinct as a concept even within feminist and activist spaces.

I Do find "male loneliness epidemic" silly as a term. it's particularly strange to me that there have been several articles ran about it.

But Ultimately This Would Not Be Necessary If The Climate Was Different.

like. the term is silly, I'm sure the articles are silly. but it is just Objectively True that men are statistically more likely to kill themselves. the exact number fluctuates depending on the study and the years they were conducted, but this has been Consistent for literally decades.

and it just ! feels abjectly cruel to watch people act like acknowledging something Like This is stupid. to watch people lump in men together As A Class and more or less victim blame them.

why should We care about Men when it's Men who are sexist? if Men care so much about being Lonely then then why [screenshot of 4channer]

a conversation on sexism creating a system where men are emotionally isolated, are discouraged from vulnerability, from relying on the people around them emotionally, are discouraged from affection, Is Good Actually.

like ! I really do wish that people didn't take a nose dive into gender essentialism and decide that men and women are just categorically and fundamentally different from each other. that if one suffers then the other must only be the one that inflicts suffering. that to recognize the pain of one is to deny the pain of the other. when that is Literally Not How It Works.

it's not about why Women should care about Men. it's about recognizing a facet of sexism that is negatively impacting PEOPLE and discussing it in the hopes of starting a long term conversation about it. to potentially encourage change and reach the people that need to hear it.

because All People are victims of sexism, All People can enforce sexism, and All People benefit from recognizing these facts and working together to undo the effects of sexism on a wide scale.

and I Dunno. I think it's really telling that some people actively choose Not to show basic human decency and compassion towards people if they can get out of it. if social convention in their circles say that X group of people don't Deserve It.

we live in a time where compassion fatigue is a real issue. where we have to process more atrocities on a daily basis than the human mind was ever meant to handle. but I still feel like human suffering should just like. Matter As A Baseline. it shouldn't be anyone's job to Convince You that it's worth caring about, you should just care about people.

[casuallyawkardd]

Close Encounters of the Spiderkind Pt II

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader

Summary: Your daughter needs a sitter at the last minute and no one else is available, at least that’s what you thought..

Warnings: Fluff, Miguel is still a softie around kids, your daughter is a menace to society, this is basically the Miggy and Vada show, I’m not fluent in Spanish so correct me if I mess up 

A/N: Here’s the part 2 ya’ll wanted so bad! Thank you for the lovely feedback from the last post, I appreciate you guys 💞 If you want to be tagged for future parts, be sure to join the TAGLIST

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Another month had passed since your little home visit with Miguel. Halfway between then and now, you had decided on sharing your little secret with the rest of the Spider Society. It was no surprise when the other spiders wanted to know more about your daughter, many insisting that you bring her in some time for them to meet. It was especially rewarding when Peter B and Jess heard the news. Granted, Jess was a bit annoyed that you had kept Vada a secret for so long and Peter thought you had deprived Mayday of a potential friend, but after the initial shock they were just as eager to meet her as the others. 

Everyone was surprised at how anticlimatic Miguel’s reaction was. “I already knew,” he would reply when someone would question his behavior, “it’s my job to know.” Ever the cocky asshole, O’Hara. 

The biggest pro to the whole of Spider Society knowing you had a kid was the near infinite amount of babysitters. And trusted ones at that. Except Ben...he was on probation for encourging Vada to hit a new PR with very big, very real weights. Hobie was on thin ice as well, in your opinion Vada was too young to be ‘sticking it to the man’ as he so generously put it. 

When Miguel finds you, you’re in the Go Home Machine control room. Weird, he definitely remembered assigning you an urgent mission. He saunters in, welcomed by the sound of Spider-Byte and you in a very heated discussion.

“Come on Margo, it’s only for a few hours. Vada is a good girl, she won’t get in the way of your work.”

“Nope, not gonna do it. It’s way too last minute, do you see how many anomalies I have to send out today? Plus, I don’t do kids. They're sticky and my equipment doesn't do sticky,” Margo says dismisively, her holgogram zooming around the room as she continues her work.

"My daughter is not sticky," you retort, spinning around in place trying to keep up with her, arms crossed, suited up and ready to go. Miguel recognizes the annoyed look on your face, glad he’s not on the receiving end of it for once, but he’s about to be.

“What’s the hold up? I told you to be on Earth-76C ten minutes ago.”

Your head snaps in his direction, frustration fading only slightly as you huff, “I know. I’m supposed to pick up Vada in an hour, but now I need someone to do it instead and watch her until I finish the mission,” you deadpan him, fidgetting with the Gizmo on your wrist. 

“Did you try-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve asked everyone. Jess is doing date night, Peter said Mayday is sick...” Miguel listens as you rattle off the excuses every spiderperson threw at you, listing every close friend of yours in the society. “...Her grandparents are out of town and my neighbor is the one watching her now, but she has plans tonight as well. So if you have any bright ideas-”

“I can watch her,” it’s so surprising to hear those words come out of Miguel's mouth that even Margo has stopped working to look at him, but his eyes are focused solely on you. Your mouth is moving, but no sound comes out as you try to form a coherent sentence. 

“I couldn’t-”

“It’s really no problem.”

“You’re probably busy-”

“I’m actually very free right now.”

You scoff, hands moving to your hips, “Did Lyla lock you out of your lab again when you went to go grab food from the cafeteria?”

His eyebrows furrow and his jaw tightens, “Do you need a sitter or not?”

Miguel had lost track of how long he was standing in the hall of your apartment building, holographic suit materialized into more fitting clothes for your universe. It felt like an abnormal amount of time, but was probably only a few minutes. Only one old lady going into her apartment looked at him funny, but that was most likely due to the uncomfortable look on his face. It’d been a long time since he’d had to look after a kid by himself, let alone one as young as Vada. 

He had seen her in passing, whenever you would pick up or drop her off with one of the other spiders who had agreed to watch her. You even introduced them one time, saying he was your boss. Vada had just stared at him, he couldn’t tell if it was with a look of fear, confusion or awe. He had no idea how she would react to him picking her up rather than her mother. 

His knuckles rapped against the door and Miguel could hear someone approach from the other side. When it opened he was greeted by a woman, looking to be around your age, maybe even younger. She did a double take when she saw him, but Miguel was used to that. There weren’t a lot of universes where being six foot nine was considered normal. 

“Can I...help you?” she asked him finally.

“M’name’s Miguel...I was told to pick up Vada,” he said simply and her eyes lit up in understanding.

“Oh! You’re who she was calling about,” she called Vada’s name over her shoulder, letting the little girl know it was time to go. “How do you know Y/N again?”

“We’re coworkers,” it wasn’t a lie technically. Miguel parroting what you had told him to say so he could pretend to be someone you knew from your day job. 

“You’re a scientist?”

Miguel paused, confused by the question until he realized she was talking about his...physique. Her eyes not very subtly giving him the up and down. “I...work out when I’m stressed.”

The corners of the woman's mouth briefly turned down in a 'hmph' before returning to their normal position, “Must be hella stressed.”

There was the pitter patter of feet, making Miguel glance past the woman as Vada came to the door. It was almost comical how small she was compared to him, the top of her head barely making it to his hip. The pig tails that were meant to be on top of her head were lopsided, one still in tact while one sagged sideways, and there was a wet spot on her t-shirt. Is that...drool?

“She woke up from a nap about ten minutes ago,” the woman seemed to pick up on his confusion. She knelt down beside Vada, the two hugging goodbye, “Are you okay going with him back to your apartment?” she asked the toddler. 

Vada bit her lip in thought, looking back at Miguel as if to stare him down....or rather up. “Hmmm...yeah. Bye Aunt Harrie,” Vada responds in a neutral tone, stepping through the doorway with a backpack almost as big as her slung over one shoulder.

Miguel exchanged pleasantries with her aunt before the three parted ways. He easily tugged the backpack off her shoulder and followed the little girl down the hallway. She seemed to know the way home, their destination only a few floors up. The rickety elavator opened for them and Miguel stepped in, stopping the doors from closing at the last minute when he saw Vada had yet to get in. 

She...just stood there. Staring at him. Is she scared? Toddlers can get irrational fears, maybe the elevator freaks her out? Then she wouldn’t be looking at that instead of staring at me? “Are you coming?” he finally asked, meeting her gaze when she looks back up at him.

“You have to say superhero jump.” Well that was blunt.

“¿Perdóname?”

“Huh?”

Miguel cleared his throat, “I mean, what are you talking about?”

“Mama always says ‘superhero jump!’ and then I do a reeeally big jump from here to there,” Vada talks with her hands, pointing at her feet and then the elevator.

That’s ridiculous, was what Miguel was going to say before he stopped himself, sighing. “Superhero jump.”

“You have to say it in a happy voice.”

“Superhero jump~,” Miguel’s voice raised an octave in mock enthusiasm, but it seemed to do the trick as Vada did her bathetic jump over the elevator gap. “...Wow, good job.”

“Thank you,” she said proudly as she stood on her tip toes to hit the button for their floor. 

The rest of the short trip was uneventful. Miguel did give Vada a sideways glance when she didn’t request he say ‘superhero jump’ when they got out, calling her actions inconsistent in his head. Like he wasn’t referring to a toddler. When he opened the door to the apartment, Vada was off. She started by running into the living room, stuttering to a stop before going to her mother’s room, then her own and even the bathroom.

Finally she stopped back in the living room where Miguel waited, “Where’s Mama?”

“She’s working, I’m watching you, remember?”

Vada’s nose scrunched at that, “I want Mama.”

“I’m sure you do, but you’ll just have to wait.”

The toddler’s foot stomped defiantly, “I want Mama now!”

“Vada,” Miguel huffed, squatting to be level with her. “Cálmate, your mother will be home in a couple hours. You’re a big girl right? You can wait,” Vada glared at him, but it was hard to take a three year old’s anger seriously when she looked cute expressing it. She then gasped dramatically, cheeks puffing out as she held the breath, little hands covering her nose and mouth. There was a moment of awkward silence as they stared at one another.

What was she-oh. Oh.

“Stop that, throwing a tantrum isn’t gonna change my answer,” Miguel said a bit more firmly, making sure to be somewhat gentle still. She didn’t budge. “Vada, ay coño, that’s enough.¿Quieres desmayarte?” Do you want to pass out?

He reached a hand out to grab her, maybe jostle some sense into her, but didn’t get the chance as she erupted into giggle when his hand grazed her side. Miguel was confused at first before realization hit, “Are you ticklish?” he teased.

Vada giggled again, her bad mood seeming to fade away almost instantly, “Noooo~,” she cooed. 

Miguel scoffed, the corners of his mouth turning up, “Alright, you’re not ticklish, but come on. I’m sure you don’t want to just stare at each other until your mom comes home. There’s gotta be something you want to do? Maybe play? What do you and your mom do for fun?”

The afternoon went by surprisingly fast. Vada was...quite the little firecracker. Very much her mother’s daughter. Not only did she look like a carbon copy of her mom, but she had the same mannerisms. The way her nose scrunched when she was displeased with something he said, the way she bit her bottom lip when thinking hard about something, it was like he was babysitting a tinier version of you. 

Vada played him like a fiddle, getting him to play pretend with her little toys, even convincing him to do different voices for each of the dolls she had assigned to him. Miguel was just glad no one else was around to witness this, he’d be spending the rest of his life threatening them to keep quiet. He became very aware of the drama at Vada’s preschool, the little girl filling him in on all the latest gossip, to which Miguel was listening to with an embarrassing amount of intrigue. 

“...now Becca isn’t talking to Daina because Daina laid next to Teddy during nap time,” Vada rambles on, absentmindedly rolling a toy truck across the floor. 

“Uh huh, because Becca like likes Teddy,” Miguel affirms, his deep, monotone voice a stark contrast to hers. He sat next to her on the ground, watching Vada as she continued to play, while detangling the hair of one of her dolls with a tiny, plastic brush. 

“Yup! And then Becca got mad and pushed Daina into the sandpit, so now Becca can’t play outside for pickup.”

“Tch! Puta...” Miguel mutters the phrase without even registering it, catching himself when he realizes how invested he’s gotten in petty gossip. A child’s petty gossip, no less. Domínese, O’Hara... 

“Puta.”

Miguel’s eyes widen, looking back at Vada. Did she just.. “Don’t say that word.”

“Why?”

“It’s a bad word.”

“Nuh-uh, my mommy knows all the bad words and she's never said that one.”

“It is.”

“Poooootaaaaah~” Vada enunciates, giggling at how annoyed Miguel gets when she says it. Before Miguel can scold her once more, the clicking of the front door alerts them of your arrival, both Vada and Miguel’s head snapping to watch as you come in and shut the door behind you. 

It had been a more difficult mission than you had anticipated. The Sandman from your earth was reeking havoc in another dimension. Seemed like an easy fix, until you discovered there was another Sandman from a different universe also in the mix. After some sloppy web work, a little assistance from the spider of that universe and a few bruised ribs, you had them captured and returned to HQ to be sent back to their respective earths. The damage to your body was minimal, for someone with superhuman abilities, a good night’s rest would have you back to normal.

The door had hardly been shut when the familiar tapping of Vada’s feet on the hardwood approaches you. And as usual, you crouch down to accept her embrace, this time wincing slightly as her little body collides into yours, your toddler oblivious to the injuries you had sustained. She wastes no time talking your ear off, telling you how her day was at Aunt Harrie’s and her evening with Miguel.

Miguel, speaking of, stood in the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room to watch the interaction unfold. You don’t see it, but the sight of you watching as Vada eagerly chatters brings a smile to his face, just a small one, as he admired the relationship between mother and daughter. When you glance his way, he averts his gaze to the ground and clears his throat stiffly. 

“Well, sweet girl, it sounds like you had a busy day,” you say, looking back at your daughter. She’s beaming at you, a sight that always warms your heart no matter how many times you see it. “Come on, let’s get dinner started.” Vada moves like someone who’s never eaten, bolting to the kitchen counter and crawling onto one of the bar stools. 

“Can Miggy have dinner too?” she asks, fidgetting excitedly in her seat. The question makes you pause, stopping just as you were about to fill an empty pot with water. After hemming and hawing for a moment, Vada decides to turn her attention to the man in question, “Can you, Miggy? Can you?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow, jaw set as he thinks of what to say, Vada waiting with bated breath. “Well...”

“It’s fine.” You finally find your voice again. 

Miguel turns his attention to you now, “It is?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” you shrug simply, “that is if you want to stay for dinner.” Miguel purses his lips as he thinks over your offer and you try not to chuckle at the sight.

“...What are you making?”

“Boxed Mac n Cheese.”

He scoffs, “That doesn’t sound very-”

“Mac n Cheese is my favorite!” Vada chimes in, “Mama always gets the one’s shaped like unicorns and rainbows cuz they taste better.”

Her words make Miguel pause again, finally letting out a deep breath through his nose, “Sure, I’ll stay for dinner.”

You smile mischievously, “We’re happy to have you, ‘Miggy~.’”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Dinner with you and your daughter was surprisingly pleasant. Miguel didn’t say much as he shoved the cheap pasta and cheese down his throat, watching you interact with your daughter. It was domestic, almost peaceful. Afterward Miguel offers to do the dishes while you put Vada down for the night. He excuses himself once done, thanking you for the meal and making sure to leave out the part that, for dinner being a cheap box of mac n cheese, it was the best meal he had had in a long time. 

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

re.: the weasleys + parenting

what's always bugged me most abt percy's fight with arthur (especially in the fandom, where everyone's like 'oh, he turned his back on harry and betrayed his family to side w the ministry) is that. that's hardly what the fight is about at all. the fight is about the fact that percy, an 18yo kid who just got promoted to his dream job instead of straight up losing any chance at ever being Minister (because they tried to scapegoat him into taking the blame for the crouch business even though he managed to keep the whole department running while his boss wasn't even there), comes home all excited to tell his parents that "Hey, he's not unemployed and bereft of any and all hope for his biggest dream", but rather that his skills and competence got recognized by The Most Important Man In The Government, and molly and arthur look him straight in the face and go—"no you didn't."

there is no mention whatsoever that they even try to be gentle about it, that they congratulate him first and then bring it up later like "just be careful around Fudge, he's always looking for people to get information from and you are the best of both worlds, close to the action and actually good at the job he hired you for", nothing of the sort. they straight up don't even consider how any of those factors might've weighed in Fudge's decision to hire him.

and, perhaps worst of all, they have no faith in Percy. he tells them "I'm working for the minister", and not only do they not spare a second to be happy for him over this frankly momentous achievement (or at the very least concern for the position it puts him in), they jump straight to conjectures and accusations. "you only got this because of Harry" has got to crush Percy, who was raised to believe that good things come to honest, hard-working people and who has been working for this since he was a small child. and it digs the knife deeper when you realize that most of his siblings have basically replaced him with Harry. Harry, who also plays Quidditch and also keeps throwing himself into death-defying dangers and overalls fits much better into the family dynamic than Percy ever has.

and there's just this. crystal clear implication that they do believe Percy would spy on them. he's so Different and Other and Un-Weasley/Gryffindor-like and they've alienated themselves from him so absolutely that they can't see any reasons he wouldn't willingly and consciously jeopardize his parents' livelihood and Harry & his siblings safety just to stay in the Minister's good graces, when if anyone's actually at risk of losing their job for siding with Dumbledore is his father, who's still working there quite merrily and continues to so for a long time afterwards.

Percy, who runs into a freezing lake mid-February while attending an international event as Crouch's replacement to make sure Ron is alright, who pesters Ginny to eat and have a pepper-up potion most of her first year bc she doesnt look well, who tails Harry and Ron a lot of their second and third years bc there's something petrifying kids and then Dementors on the grounds and a mass murderer on the loose and they all just think he's being willfully bothersome like no you idiots he's worried.

of course he left. of course he left. what did he have to gain by staying at the Burrow, beyond fresh home cooked meals harassment and disagreements? why wouldn't he leave?

sorry I have a lot of feelings about this.

No need to apologize, this is brilliantly written!

I don't even feel like I need to add anything as you summed up the Percy situation perfectly.

But I can't help myself because I love discussing the Weasley family dynamics, so it's a bit more rumbley than my usual...

Percy cares so much for his family. When Voldemort is revealed and the war actually starts, he puts all his disagreements with his parents aside to come and help and make sure they're okay, because he cares. And still, he is being shunned and treated like an outsider.

Arthur and Molly Weasley are just really good at alienating their kids because it isn't just Percy.

Somehow all of them succeded in feeling like outsiders in a family of 9. Bill shows frustration with his parents and only returns to Britain because of the war, Charlie's in Romania for most of the series. Fred and George run away the moment they can and are treated like trouble by their parents most of the time (Molly and Arthur assume they are selling stolen goods from Mundungus when they hear they have money, not that they, idk, somehow earned it), Ron has a whole complex of low self-esteem and a tendency to blame himself for everything. Ginny is isolated from her brothers as the only girl and youngest...

And Percy cares and tries to be the best and most responsible sibling and gets scorned in turn.

Harry and Ron do acknowledge Arthur's and Molly's accusation towards Percy was awful and that he was right to respond negatively in OOTP. Ron is just sensitive about their family's financial state which soured Percy to him after Percy blew up at their dad (rightfully so, honestly, I'd say way worse to Arthur if it was me).

The thing is, Percy also gets scorned by his siblings, not just his parents (like Fred and George do). He gets grief for trying to be responsible and for wanting his siblings to do well in school and not get in trouble, Fred and George lock him in a pyramid...

That being said, do I think Percy is perfect? No, he is pretentious and overbearing at times, but he is a child in a large family who tries to find a place to fit himself in. According to child psychology, usually when it comes to siblings, the eldest would usually (at least in childhood) try to be everything the parents want (Bill), and then each next sibling will carve a different niche for themselves, and we see this with the Weasleys. I think the twins being born right after Percy and demanding a lot of attention from their parents from a young age as they were little troublemakers from the start is a big reason why Percy chose the niche of being bookish, ambitious, and responsible for himself. To contrast himself with them and his older brothers and get some attention from their parents.

I'm not a fan of the epilog (like everyone), but I find it hard to imagine Percy being close to his family post-books. I think he never fully got over the sting of not being seen as skilled and competent and that his parents believed he'd turn on them all without a second thought. Nor do I think he should just get over it.

Like, I'm really salty that Percy was the only one to apologize:

“I was a fool!” Percy roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph. “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a—a—” “Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron.” said Fred. Percy swallowed. “Yes, I was!” “Well, you can’t say fairer that that,” said Fred, holding out his hand to Percy. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She ran forward, pushed Fred aside, and pulled Percy into a strangling hug, while he patted her on the back, his eyes on his father. “I’m sorry, Dad.” Percy said.

(Deathly Hollows, pages 512-513)

Like, yes, it's great he was smart enough to realize the ministry is corrupt, but this demand only for him to apologize when Molly and Arthur Weasley were just as much in the wrong. Fred and George weren't beacons of sainthood here either. But none of them have apologies demanded of them. None of them are demanded to confess they are "morons". Just Percy.

Who even after his apology is still an outsider. Probably always will be one.

You said it best: "Why wouldn't he leave?"

And that's what we see him do (if temporarily).

[snootlestheangel]

A Very Unique Ghost Headcanon

My friend and I got lunch together today and we went to a bookstore afterwards for a bit. An idea about Ghost had spawned so here's the whole thing.

*Does contain MW3 spoilers towards the end*

When Ghost is on leave, he spends a lot of time at a local bookstore. The staff and other locals began calling him "a ghost" because he's very quiet and appears for several days every few months. He's always very quiet and seems to "appear and disappear" randomly. He eventually spends so much time there, pretty much everyone knows him. Not by name, but they recognize him/when he's in town. They know he's a bit weird based on all the things he reads. He goes from reading really deep books about self-improvement to horror/true crime novels to silly animal fact books and laughing cause "penguins are silly". He's very kind though, everyone knows, and is always willing to grab something off a high shelf or assist an elderly person in carrying their items.

There's a table that's basically reserved for him now, sitting in the back corner of the bookstore's little cafe. There's always a stack of books that he wants to read sitting on the table. Sometimes the stack remains untouched for several months before "Ghost" is seen again. Sometimes, he comes back a bit more ragged than normal, and even sometimes more he comes back with an arm in a sling and a limp. But everyone gets used to the presence that is their local cryptid, even if he isn't much of a conversationalist.

Then they realize he journals everything he reads. He likes to write about all the things he learned while reading that day, and is diligent about dating everything.

This habit spawned from a few years he spent giving himself therapy because the military believed him dead, and he couldn't afford one outside of it. So, he took to the bookstore and it's nice section of self-improvement books and the mental help journals. He realized he actually really enjoys journaling, and likes being able to reflect back on all the things he read that year.

But he leaves the journals at the table with the books he has yet to read. And some people start getting curious. And someone reads the journals. They know it's horrible, but they figure there can't be anything personal if the man is willing to leave the journals unattended for months at a time. And that's when everyone learns he's actually journaled everything he's read for the last 4 years (how long it took him to get into that habit), and it's an incredibly fascinating read.

He's very well-spoken about the things he discusses, and his handwriting is pleasant and easy to understand. Not to mention, he only uses pen, and the fact he sometimes has to scribble out mistakes makes the journals feel familiar in a human way. There's something so personal and intimate about it, and it all adds to the local myth of the ghost that haunts the bookstore.

But then one day, the regular people that read the journals realize Ghost has started to mention someone within his readings. It starts small, a little comment on a book he read about the history of explosives: "I blame JSM for me reading something like this. It's fascinating stuff, and they have grown rather complicated these days. Wonder if there's more on modern explosives."

Just the initials: JSM. What they don't know is the initials belong to one John "Soap" MacTavish, the man to hold Ghost's heart.

And for a while, there's a lot of entries including the initials "JSM" somewhere in their contents. Some entries are almost entirely relating to this "JSM" person. And it's clear, as the mentions of "JSM" increase, that Ghost has fallen madly in love with whomever this is. And the people that read the journals have grown fond of Ghost, and are cheering him on, hoping he gets his happy ever after.

But then Ghost doesn't show up for over a year. The stack of books remains the same, the journals untouched.

But when he does, something's different. He immediately heads towards the section on "Grief and Loss". He stands there for an overwhelmingly long time before picking a couple of books and heading for his little table in the back.

And he reads, and journals, and cries all at the same time. No one even realized he was crying until a staff member passed by and noticed the tears falling from his eyes as he scribbled into the journal. No one bothers him, of course, but there's an overwhelming sadness that passes over the bookstore that day.

No one's brave enough to read the entries from that day, and they let the journals sit overnight. Ghost is back the next day, does the same, and leaves. Doesn't spend hours just simply perusing, but instead sits and reads the books he collected on grief/personal loss and journals.

But one day, after Ghost stops showing up again, becomes brave enough to read the journal entries from the last 3 days.

Word spreads like wildfire.

JSM is now Johnny and Johnny is gone.

It all makes sense, and all the regulars, all the staff that are familiar with Ghost and his journals mourn. They mourn on Ghost's behalf and they mourn for Ghost.

They mourn for him because the way he wrote changed, the way he spoke in his entries changed, his demeanor when in the store changed. They mourn Ghost because clearly Johnny took a part of him with him; his heart.

One day, there's a book about coping with losing your spouse, specifically geared towards younger people (especially ones in Ghost and Soap's age range *25-35*). There's actually no journal entries specified for most of the book, almost like he simply read it and didn't bother sharing his thoughts.

That is until the end of the book, where there's one journal entry marked to accompany the final chapter.

{I've read this book probably ten times now. The first time was actually the easiest. It was new to me, and I enjoy picking apart new books and getting through them. The second time was the hardest. It's when the words I had already read were starting to sink in. Too quickly I had been brought back to that day I lost Johnny. I didn't dwell too long on this book. I didn't want to, at least. But I kept going back to it because I knew it had answers and solutions. In reality, it didn't really help. It more took the mess in my head and sorted it out so I could deal with it more easily. I miss Johnny more than anything else in life. Losing him has been the worst thing I've ever gone through. Which is quite impressive, considering some of the things I've experienced. This book has taught me many things, and I only wish to share the one I feel speaks the greatest volumes. "But like all wounds, it takes time to heal a broken heart." What an incredible lesson. I've had my fair share of wounds to heal from, and I am painfully intimate with the recovery process of broken bones. Never once did I consider my heart something that could be wounded and recovered from. I always figured if my heart had been wounded, then that would be the end. But I was wrong. A heart can be broken and wounded, and like all injured things, it can heal. It's a beast of a recovery process, I won't lie, but the idea I'm merely recovering from a near-fatal injury comforts me. It's morbid, I suppose, to be comforted by that, but I am. It means he didn't die in vain, and that is all I ask for.

~Simon "Ghost" Riley}

[stardustvanfleet]

Backstage Baby (Jake Kiszka x Groupie!Reader)

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 4k

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. BASICALLY PWP. rough unprotected sex, edging, daddy kink, light choking (blink and you’ll miss it), mix of praise and degradation, nicknames (baby, princess, good girl, slut), my obsession with jake’s silver medallion, ending with flirtatious fluffy aftercare.

A/N: i’ve been writing band rpf for years, but this is my first gvf fic! ever since seeing them in boston on 9/15, i have literally been walking around in a daze, daydreaming about going backstage with jake……. and this is the result lmfao. title inspired by B-Side Baby by Adam Ant. i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss ideas with….. and also just cry and lose my mind with LMAO. anyway— i hope you enjoy! XO, li

••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how many times you saw Jake up there, he still made you breathless.

That furrowed concentration on his brow as his expert fingers flew across the strings… his hair falling across his shoulders… the way he would rock and grind against his guitar, glowing under the lights as sweat dripped down his forehead, his chest bare and slick from perspiration…

You didn’t really ever plan on becoming a groupie. The effect that Jake had on you had been intense enough long before you started following Greta Van Fleet around the country, before you’d even once thought you’d ever be in a room with him smaller than a stadium. But you hadn’t expected anything like the way things had actually gone. They had always said real life was stranger than fiction, but you had never thought its twists and turns could be this earth-shattering.

It had started with the eye contact. The first few times it happened, you couldn’t be sure if you were imagining things, your head perhaps fuzzy from the thrill of numerous front-row nights in a row… but when Jake crouched down and leaned towards you mid-solo, his eyes meeting yours with a jolt of electricity, a wicked smirk on his face, you realized with a heart-stopping shudder that no, you hadn’t been imagining his eyes on you.

Those looks would intensify as the tour continued. He’d always somehow find you in the front row, letting his cool and confident gaze rest on you as he played, just long enough to leave you squeezing your thighs together involuntarily. One night, you had been approached by a stagehand, who simply passed you a note with directions to an afterparty, and even though the note had no signature, something deep down told you exactly who it had been from.

That was your first night with Jake, and you had left the next morning with aching legs that felt like jelly. Since then, every night had been fucking cinematic.

Tonight was no exception. It had been damn near impossible to take your eyes off of Jake before you’d even had any opportunity to speak to him, but now, knowing exactly what he was able to do to your body, how fucking incredible he could make you feel… seeing him like that onstage made you positively throb throughout the show, taking all of your energy just to keep your composure.

As the concert winded down, you slipped out of the pit up front, making your way to the backstage entrance. The security guards, who recognized you by now— still an odd feeling — let you in. You headed towards where you now knew the band would be coming down once they left the stage, your heart already pounding with anticipation, heat already beginning to pool between your thighs. You took a deep breath, tugging on the hem of your top, which you had intentionally chosen due to its short length: you loved the way it highlighted the curves of your waist and hips, and hoped Jake would too.

And, as always, once they emerged, it seemed as though everything was happening at once– pulling out earpieces, handing off instruments and passing equipment along – but your eyes were only on Jake, and, you realized with a shudder that wracked your entire body, his were on you.

Once his guitar had been handed off, Jake wasted no time in heading right towards you, grabbing your wrist, and leading you down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly where he was taking you, and you instantly felt a wave of overwhelming desire wash over your every inch. It was truly absurd how little he had to do to turn you on.

//

He pulled you into his dressing room, and immediately pushed your back up against the closing door. Jake’s large hands pinned your shoulders against it, a soft clicking sound occurring as the door locked automatically. His lips collided sloppily with yours, kissing you with a hunger that sent your head spinning, sparks of heat igniting deep within your core.

When he finally pulled back, grazing your bottom lip with his teeth as he did so, a shiver went down your spine, and it took you far longer than intended to regain composure and open your eyes. When you did, his heavy-lidded dark eyes were on you, pupils blown wide with desire. The dominance behind his expression was enough to cause an involuntary whimper to escape you, the sound of which brought out a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“So needy today… What a dirty girl,” he said, his tone dripping with authority, making your knees immediately weaken. His eyes never left yours as he continued teasing, knowing by now what it did to you. He leaned in, making sure you got his next few words right in your ear. “You wanna get fucked tonight? Hm?” His voice was low and seductive, leaving one hand on your shoulder to keep you pinned to the wall, while his other one stroked first down your arm, then back up, your skin lighting up under his touch. As his body pressed up against yours, you could feel him, rock-hard and throbbing against your thigh, the sensation almost overwhelming as you found yourself nodding your head as hard as you could, already difficult to find the words.

That wasn’t enough, though, not for Jake. The hand that had been stroking up and down your bare arms moved abruptly to your jaw, holding it firmly in place so his gaze was locked on yours. “I asked you a question, princess.” Your lower lip trembled desperately as Jake tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression and tone just the right amount of patronizing as his hips began to roll at a slow but steady pace against you, breathing out, “You want this cock?”

“Yes, fuck,” you managed, already feeling lightheaded at just his words and close proximity.

“There you go,” he chuckled condescendingly at the sound of you using your words for the first time. He continued to rock up against your thigh, letting the hand on your jaw slide to your throat, but not lingering there too long, not giving you yet what he knew you wanted— just staying long enough to drag his long fingers down the sensitive skin of your neck, as if examining every inch of you. What a fucking tease.

“Jake, please,” you found yourself begging, taking your free hand and gripping the lapel of his black jacket— all he was wearing over his tanned, sweaty torso, which had been making your head spin all night— “I’m so fucking hot for you. So fucking wet for you. I want you so bad, please…”

The sound of your desperation made a low sound somewhere between a chuckle and a growl rumble in Jake’s throat, and if your panties weren’t soaked through already, that alone would have been enough to get you there.

Your begging had satisfied him, for now. Jake finally released his grip, freeing you from your position pinned up against the door, only to lead you over to the white leather couch in the corner of the room. Before having you sit, however, there were two things that needed to be done. First of all, he shrugged his black jacket off from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor behind him, leaving him standing before you in nothing but those sinfully tight pants and that silver necklace that drove you wild. Through your lightheadedness, you could tell how horny he was, too— his pants left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sight of the achingly large bulge straining against the tight black fabric was making your head swim, to say nothing of the heat between your thighs.

That was when he lowered himself just enough that his lips were in line with the top button of your jeans, and you felt all breath leave your body as he looked wickedly up at you. Going slowly enough to make you squirm, but not so slowly that you’d protest, Jake unzipped your bell bottoms. His gaze never left yours as he pulled them down your legs, revealing inch after inch of your skin to him, his tongue flicking out across his own bottom lip hungrily as he watched himself undress you— this gorgeous present, all his to unwrap.

As you had anticipated, your light pink panties were so soaked they had been rendered essentially useless as a means of covering you up, and the feeling of Jake’s eyes devouring the sight of your pussy through them were only making you wetter.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes glancing up to meet yours for a moment before looking right back down at the burning heat between your legs. After a second or two of him just looking intently— as if committing the sight to memory— he spoke, saying, “Drives me fucking crazy…” as one of his hands found its way to the inside of your calf, stroking slowly up, further and further, “...how fucking wet you get for me, before I’ve even touched you. Goddamn.”

“Jake, please,” you begged again, your voice cracking a bit as you spread your legs to give him easier access to your inner thigh, his long fingers stroking and massaging you only centimeters from where you needed his touch the most. “I need your fingers… I need them… please.”

Your final “please” had such an undertone of neediness, desperation, it must’ve been exactly what Jake had been looking for-– and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head as his long middle finger began to stroke deliciously up and down your clothed slit. He started at your entrance to gather your wetness through your panties, then slid upwards and flattened his fingertip out, letting the pad of the digit trace tight circles over your throbbing clit. Immediately upon the contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out, clapping a hand over your own mouth as you, in a cloud of arousal, watched Jake play with your pussy from his position between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept up his steady, rhythmic circular motions.

Time seemed to stop for what could have been seconds or minutes as Jake massaged your clit and teased your entrance through your dripping panties, and it was only when your eyes were watering and whimpers were falling from your lips that he pulled his hand back, the loss of contact making you let out an involuntary whine.

But once his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, you realized he wasn’t teasing any longer— he was escalating. The thought made you shudder as he tugged the soaked scrap of fabric down your legs, Jake’s face flushed with heat, that gorgeous hair of his falling across his shoulders and sticking to his forehead.

Once your panties were off, he tossed them to the side, standing up and leaving you trembling on the leather couch as his hands moved down to his own waistband, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue once again swiping across his bottom lip hungrily. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved to pull his pants down— which, at this point, were pornographically tight— and, Jesus Christ, he looked angelic as they came off. His skin was glowing with sweat, and warm light from the dressing room’s lamps was glinting off the silver medallion around his neck. When he took his cock out, you let out yet another involuntary whimper.

Hard and thick, the tip already glistening with his arousal, just the sight of it made your mouth water. He wrapped his hand around his length, beginning to pump it up and down just slightly as he lowered himself onto the couch next to you, watching with blown-out pupils as you pulled your crop top over your head, revealing to Jake that you hadn’t worn a bra underneath it, your tits bouncing free. The realization made him growl under his breath between strokes of his cock, groaning, “Fuck… you do that for me?” Your nod made him groan all over again, rasping out, “Mmmm… you’re such a dirty girl… C’mere.”

The simple command was all you needed, giving into your desire and practically pushing yourself against his slick, toned body. The feeling of his hot skin against yours alone made you moan out loud as Jake’s hands found your hips, pulling you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, you were so close to his cock that you felt entirely lightheaded, knowing that if you rocked forward, your clit would get the most incredible friction rubbing up against his length…

But you didn’t have to do anything yourself. Before you could organize your thoughts, Jake was kissing you again, messy and filthy, his tongue and teeth everywhere, his mouth moving sloppily from your lips to your neck and back again, and suddenly you hadn’t any thoughts left at all beyond Jake, his hands, his body, and the feeling of his cold silver medallion pressing up against the skin of your breasts— grazing your nipple, making you gasp into his mouth, eliciting a dark chuckle form the man beneath you.

One of his hands took yours and guided it to his cock, and when your fingers wrapped around the velvety skin of his length the both of you shuddered in unison. Jake’s mouth immediately dropped open from the pleasure, murmuring another, “Fuck, princess,” his other hand slipping between your legs to start toying with your clit again. It didn’t take long for your legs to start to tremble. You were aching for him to fill you up.

You both worked each other like this for a minute or two, eyes growing more half-lidded and cheeks flushing ever pinker as you built up to the main event. Finally, after what seemed an achingly long time, Jake finally spoke, words coming in between his heavy panting that was making your whole body tremble.

“You want it, baby? You want this cock right now? You want Daddy to fuck you like the cute little slut you are?”

You moaned so desperately you hardly recognized your own voice. He always knew exactly when to bring things up a notch, and how. You were nodding your head before you could even speak, finally finding the words to beg, “Please, Daddy. I need it, I need your cock,” staring at him with lust-blown doe eyes.

Jake let out a true growl this time, and sat back further, spreading his legs wide, his cock thick and hard and waiting, your wetness all over his thigh from where you had been straddling him. When he spoke again, his voice was low and authoritative. “Then sit on this fucking dick.”

The sound that left your lips in response to his words was something beyond desperation. With trembling thighs, you positioned yourself over Jake as he gave his cock another couple strokes, lining himself up at your entrance, and saying lowly, hotly, “Look at me.”

You obliged without even having to think, and with your eyes on each other, taking in every little change in expression, you started lowering yourself onto him. Slowly but surely, you felt every single inch of his hard cock stretching you out, and as you took all of him as deep as possible, you made sure to keep your eyes right on his as your mouth fell open. He loved to see what he was doing to you.

He only waited a moment, giving you enough time to grab onto his shoulders for leverage, but not enough time to catch your breath, before his hands found your hips. His fingernails dug into your skin, something sexy, dangerous, and dark in his eyes that you instantly recognized. Oh. There would be no working slowly into things tonight. Tonight, Jake was entirely in control.

Roughly, quickly, he lifted you by the hips, before pushing you right back down onto his cock, making you cry out in ecstasy. It was only a moment before he lifted you right back up again, then shoving you back down onto him, giving you no rest from the sudden and overwhelming pleasure. His sense of timing, perfected from years of playing guitar, was more obvious than ever as he started to build up a rhythm that was dizzying in its relentless repetition. The way he was filling you up felt so fucking good, and it only intensified when Jake began to fuck up into you while pressing you down onto him, getting deeper and deeper with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to moan out his name as he fucked you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Jake groaned out, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead onto his chest, “Such a good girl… taking my cock so fucking well. Goddamn. So fuckin’ filthy.”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, Daddy,” you were moaning, broken sounds falling nonstop from your lips as Jake slammed his cock into you, but when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, he once again took your jaw in his large hand, forcing your gaze to stay on his.

“I told you to keep your fucking eyes on me when I fuck you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, Jake’s relentless pounding hitting you right where it felt the best, the angle at which he was fucking you giving him perfect access to your sweet spot.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, the combination of his cock filling you up and that low, sexy voice of his right in your ear completely emptying your mind of any other thoughts besides how fucking good he was making you feel.

Jake was speeding up now, and it was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes on him with the pleasure building so intensely within you. You knew you were close, and his labored gasps and breathless growls made it clear that he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck, baby… that perfect pussy… she’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he was groaning against you, and you were nodding desperately and moaning out obscenities, tears forming in your eyes from the unyielding ecstasy. One of your arms was still around his shoulders, while the other had a white-knuckled grip on his silver necklace as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts.

He must’ve been able to tell you were close by the way your thighs began to shake, the way your moans turned into desperate, tiny whimpers, because you didn’t even have to say a word before Jake sucked his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and slick before lowering them to trace tight circles onto your clit.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was all so much; so deliciously overstimulating— Jake’s cock deep in your pussy, his fingers working your clit just right, his dark eyes looking at you so intently that even the act of him simply watching you as you fell apart felt so fantastically filthy and sinful.

“Does my little slut wanna cum?” Jake growled through gritted teeth, still thrusting up into you as he managed one of those patronizing smirks that drove you wild, “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You let out a desperate whine, whimpering weakly, “Jake— fuck, please, Daddy.” Every word took all of your focus and energy to stammer out, with Jake surrounding what felt like every inch of your body, from his cock pumping in and out of you, to his fingers on your clit, and the heat of his skin against yours.

“Be a good girl now,” he continued between grunts, fucking you deep and hard, his lust-blown eyes never once leaving yours, “I’m gonna count down. Then… and only then… you cum on my fucking cock.”

You managed to make the only sound you could— a whimper that sounded so pathetic and slutty you hardly recognized your own voice. Trying to find words now would be hopeless. It was all so much. It felt so fucking good. Tears began to spill from your eyes as Jake’s thick cock slammed against your g-spot over and over again, in perfect time with his calloused fingers relentlessly circling your clit.

He chuckled condescendingly. You could tell— he knew you were too fucked out to answer him.

“Here we go, princess… five…”

You were trembling, moments away from the edge, utilizing every bit of energy you had left to hold off the orgasm that threatened to overtake you any second.

“Four… three…”

You could barely breathe. Every sensation, every feeling, was layered on top of one other. The pressure on your clit. Jake’s eyes, watching you unravel. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you as he pounded into your cunt. His other hand still gripping your hip for leverage, surely leaving bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

“Two…”

He leaned right in, giving you a look so fucking intense and hungry that you felt yourself go lightheaded, that heat building, building… so close, so fucking close… he just had to say…

“One. Cum for me. Fucking cum.”

The moment the command left his lips, it was all over. The white-hot coil within you snapped, and your body was overtaken with bliss, shaking uncontrollably as you clenched down onto him, the feeling of your release all around him making Jake groan out a pornographic, “Oh, fuck.”

He kept up his pace as he fucked you and worked your clit through your orgasm, repeatedly biting his lower lip in concentration as he groaned out, “That’s it, baby, give it to me, soak my fucking cock.” The pleasure was dizzying, damn near overwhelming, and through your haze it was impossible to tell for just how long he helped prolong your climax while chasing his own.

With a delicious moan and a string of obscenities, Jake pulled out of your cunt just in time, thrusting into his hand and covering your stomach in his cum. Even through your post-orgasmic haze, the sight of him cumming all over you was so incredibly filthy you found yourself whimpering all over again, watching him through glazed-over eyes as he rode out his high.

When you both finally collapsed onto each other, panting, covered in sweat and cum, Jake groaned out a breathless, “Holy fuck,” before taking his hand and running it through your hair. There was a tenderness in his gaze and a softness in his tone as he asked, “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, slowly but surely coming back down to Earth. When you managed a dazed grin, he chuckled a little, smirking affectionately. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips— this one far more gentle, but no less passionate. When Jake pulled back, he breathed out, “That was so fucking hot, baby… goddamn. You’re something else.”

You felt a blush creep up in your cheeks as he stroked your hair, then your back, his tender touches grounding you as you caught your breath against his chest. It was only after a good long while, once the stickiness on your stomachs became too much to bear, that he helped you to your feet, your thighs already feeling a familiar ache, knees still wobbling a bit. By now, you had found your words, and you thanked him, giggling shyly despite yourself.

He wrapped a plush towel around you, cleaning you up as best as he could, grabbing another towel for himself. It was after this, though, that he spoke.

“Come back to the hotel with me tonight.”

His words took you by surprise. Yes, you’d been to his hotel rooms before— but generally, you’d head there in order to fuck, not after it already had taken place. He must’ve been able to read your expression, because he continued, “I wanna take care of you, baby. It’s the least I can do… there’s a jacuzzi, we can get a nice bath going for you… and there’s a king-sized bed…”

And… you were blushing again. Of course.

You chewed on your bottom lip with nervous excitement, your heart already starting to beat faster. “Jake… that sounds perfect.” He smiled at you, looking utterly radiant, and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he put his arm around you. “C’mon, gorgeous… let’s get you some of my clothes to put on. I’ve got a sweatshirt in here somewhere…”

As you melted into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The night was only just beginning.

••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: thank you so so much for reading!! i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts either in the notes or through tumblr DMs. my ask box is always open for filthy thoughts, and i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss with 🥰 i’m also starting a taglist for any new fics i post, so be sure to let me know if you want to be added! XO, li

[antianakin]

So, for people who don't have basic reading skills, when I say Ahsoka is entirely irrelevant to Anakin's story, this does not mean that I think Ahsoka is a bad character, that I think Ahsoka should never have existed, that Ahsoka is uninteresting, or that I don't think Ahsoka can be important to fans who enjoyed her. When I say Ahsoka is irrelevant to Anakin's story, it really does truly mean JUST THAT.

Anakin's motivations for everything that he does already existed prior to Ahsoka. They're built into his story long before she ever even existed. The message of his story existed before Ahsoka was even a glimmer in Filoni's eye. So nothing about Anakin's story truly changes in any meaningful way because of Ahsoka's inclusion in it. He still falls because of his attachments, because of his fear, because he cannot live without Padme and is traumatized by the loss of his mother. He chooses to come back because of his selfless love for his son, because he'd rather die than allow Luke to be killed. None of the most important choices in Anakin's story have anything at all to do with Ahsoka and, quite honestly, I feel like it takes away from the whole theme of his story to try to shoehorn Ahsoka into those choices.

The story existed before Ahsoka and it has not, does not, and never will need her in order to make sense or be compelling.

NONE OF WHICH means Ahsoka cannot be significant IN HER OWN RIGHT. Ahsoka was the first female character to truly be the main character of a high canon Star Wars story (if we consider her the main character of TCW, which you can make a solid argument for). Ahsoka was the first female Jedi character to even be allowed to speak in a high canon Star Wars story let alone be the main character of that story. And that's significant, obviously. It was a major milestone in Star Wars and it meant a lot to a lot of fans growing up, especially young girls.

I have never and will never dispute what Ahsoka meant to the franchise and to the fandom.

She's still totally irrelevant to Anakin's story. The two things are not mutually exclusive. They can both be true at once.

And honestly, I think Ahsoka would be doing a lot BETTER as a character if people were able to recognize that more. Ahsoka IS NOT RELEVANT to Anakin's story. Anakin is relevant to HER story, but she truly is not that relevant to his in return. Ahsoka cannot remain anchored to Anakin forever, it's quite literally dragging her down. Trying to make her more significant to the Skywalker Saga is making it impossible for Ahsoka to be significant in her own right, separate from her relationship to Anakin.

So I'm going to keep saying that Ahsoka is irrelevant to the Skywalker Saga, to Anakin's story, because it's true and I find it a really important part of any discussion about Ahsoka as a character and her place within the narrative and the franchise.

[inphront]

y’know i’m writing this fic and it’s making me think that maybe we don’t recognize enough as a fandom that a lot of harrow’s guilt and shame, which make her light years more sympathetic as a character, are a.) not actually that moral, b.) directly caused by the ninth, and c.) probably shared with her parents, the only characters in the whole series that i’ve never seen a single post trying to humanize/analyze as complex. like. harrow hates herself for what her parents did and honestly? the most likely reason for this is just that kids subconsciously recognize themselves as extensions of their parents, and *her parents probably hated themselves for what they did.* regularly explaining your crimes against humanity to your five-year-old but only being willing to discuss it in the terms of it being a horrible sin and having to take a ritual cleansing bath every single time is the action of a very guilty person. i have to imagine that those saltwater baths probably included some really intense self-flagellation on the part of harrow’s parents that she internalized. i’d venture so far as to say that their suicides were motivated by guilt over the massacre just as much as by shame over the opening of the tomb.

harrow’s sense of constant guilt is so often seen as proof of her having overcome the imperial morality pushed by the houses, and that makes sense given the fact that she *has* taken a viewpoint by the end of the series that opposes imperial morality, but also, guilt is like the main export of the ninth house. harrow’s relationship to it, even once it stops being something she projects onto gideon or otherwise externalizes, is fundamentally ninth and ties her to what she herself acknowledges as “the worst flaws of her house.” ultimately it is something she inherited just as much as the 200, which to me provokes a lot of questions about how her parents actually coped with the consequences of their own fucked-up actions. gideon experienced that coping as just straight cruelty, but we know that harrow got a much more complex window into their feelings and behaviors, and my guess is those behaviors bore distinct resemblance to hers.

i have to wonder what sorts of systemic pressures were falling on them and their house that led to them killing off a whole generation, and what sort of transformations they underwent. how *do* you live with yourself knowing that the blood of so many innocent people, people you were responsible for *protecting,* is on your hands? how could you possibly raise a well-adjusted child when she’s basically a mirror into an atrocity you could’ve hardly fathomed up till the day you committed it? do you think they tried to? i think they probably tried to, but ultimately being a good parent doesn’t change being a mass murderer, and it’s impossible to pull off at all when the mass murder is so directly tied to your hopes for your child. the ninth’s entire purpose within the empire is to carry the weight and memory of one of the most horrible things john ever did, to *inherit the mass death and necromantic subjugation of the earth.* in this capacity, harrow’s parents are *victims* of the empire and its doctrine around death who proceeded to perpetuate both the mass death and necromantic subjugation AND the task of bearing the burden of shame onto their next generation. i don’t really know where i’m going with this aside from “the ninth’s cycle of violence is based in shame and is an extension of john’s disbelief in forgiveness, which means harrow can’t break it without forgiving something unforgivable; it’ll be interesting to see how she manages such a difficult task,” and “i think we oughtta talk about the politics of guilt as it applies to the entire reverend family dynamic”

[very-normal-abt-this]

I forgive you = I don't forgive myself. I am acting angry at you = I am feeling angry at myself. I am rejecting you = I am rejecting myself.

 Here is a little psychological analysis of the worst sentence ever uttered in the history of everything. I've decided that Aziraphale is utilizing a subconscious psychological defense strategy called "projection" (I'm a professional psychologist, so I can use the lingo :P)

We all use this at certain times in our lives. What happens is, when we feel that our behaviors, feelings, or thoughts are unacceptable; When they go against some of our values and create an internal value conflict - we feel shame, anger, fear, confusion. Feeling this way about ourselves is extremely uncomfortable, so sometimes, instead of acknowledging those feelings ("Wow I am feeling really angry at myself right now"), people will *Project* those feelings onto the person who is involved in the situation that is causing us to feel that value conflict. And, we are more likely to use this defense strategy when our emotional resources have been depleted. When we don't have the emotional energy to recognize and cope with painful feelings that we are feeling. Sometimes its just easier to be angry at someone else, instead of being angry at ourselves, you know?

Now, lets look at how this concept applies to Aziraphale's reaction to *The Kiss.* We know that his emotional resources have certainly been depleted by all of the emotional events that just occurred in the span of a day: planning and executing the ball, building up the courage to ask Crowley to dance, actually dancing with Crowley in front of everyone, realizing that he put his guests in serious danger when demons show up, fighting for his life, seeing Jimbriel and Beelz get their happy ending and realizing that it is possible,  seeing Metatron come down from Heaven, and finally being offered an insane opportunity for himself and for Crowley. Wow, that is.... A LOT, don't you agree?  So, by the time Aziraphale is having the "final 15" conversation with Crowley - he can no longer effectively process unexpected and complex thoughts and emotions.

Uuuuunfortunately, that is exactly what he gets during the conversation with Crowley. First, Crowley has an unexpected and complex reaction to the offer of being together as angels (unexpected to emotionally unhinged Aziraphale, not to us of course). Then, Crowley proceeds to drops an emotional bombshell by doing something that has never been done before - openly discussing the nature of their relationship and his feeling about Aziraphale. After that, Aziraphale himself chooses to show the most vulnerability and honesty about his feelings that he has ever shown (i.e. "I need you!"). And what is the final cherry on top of this "emotional tsunami" pie? The straw that completely breaks the camel's back? (aka temporarily breaks his friggin mind) ***THE KISS.***

As an aside, I am not AT ALL saying that Crowley was wrong for anything that he did or said in the final 15. I believe he was right to say and do all of it. I am simply breaking down the factors that were present in the context of that conversation. And one of the factors is -- the timing of it all was just horrendous. It was horrendous, because both of them had very depleted emotional resources at that moment in time. Aziraphale was basically primed to become completely overwhelmed and confused by all the new and complicated emotions/ideas that he was required to process. On top of it, he was required to process them in a very short amount of time, with damn Dickatron putting pressure on him to make a decision ASAP.

Okay, so what do humans do when we are completely overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions? Sometimes what happens is - we REVERT to the familiar. We REGRESS to things that are the most automatic and easiest to understand. We revert to thoughts and behaviors that have been the most practice, even if they are not effective and not relevant to the situation at hand (which we don't recognize until later, when we are out of that "fight of flight" state). 

Back to Aziraphale. He is experiencing an insane amount of emotions during and after the kiss. He is trying to process his emotions and the implications of the kiss; and he is also trying to make a super hard decision, all at the same time. What he should have done is say to Crowley - "wow this is a lot for me to process right now and I'm completely overwhelmed. Can I please have 15 minutes to myself so I can re regulate my nervous system, and then we will keep talking?"

Unfortunately, when we're overwhelmed by emotions - its really hard to see the different options available to us. We go into a sort of "tunnel vision" and revert to our internalized and automatic beliefs and behaviors. For Aziraphale, that means - regressing to the old beliefs that Heaven has programmed into him. Maybe beliefs like: acting on carnal desires is wrong (look at what happened to adam and eve); good angels don't engage in physical intimacy and they certainly don't crave it or enjoy it; it's selfish to consider choosing your personal happiness and your personal desires over an opportunity to help others/help the world.   If those are some of his old values - Aziraphale has just acted against all of them!

When we act against our old values (even when we know that those values are no longer working for us, and we are actively working on changing them) - we still feel ashamed, guilty, and angry at ourselves. This is especially likely to happen in times of great stress and emotional overwhelm. So, now we get to the equation from the top. Aziraphale is feeling ashamed of himself, angry at himself, and guilty for his thoughts and feelings (i.e. for liking/wanting the kiss, for loving Crowley, for wanting to be with Crowley more than he wants to "help the world").

He is feeling that he needs to be forgiven for the way he feels, and for the way he is. However, due to his temporarily deficient emotional resources  -  Aziraphale is not able to accurately attribute the feelings he is experiencing (anger, shame, guilt, desire for forgiveness) to the correct source. He mistakenly decides that he must be feeling those feelings towards Crowley (not toward himself), and he must be feeling them because of what Crowley did (Kiss him), not because of what Aziraphale did (enjoy and reciprocate the kiss). And Viola, the process of Projection is now complete.

He says: "I forgive you" to Crowley, but Aziraphale is the one who wants his own forgiveness. Which, unfortunately, he does not get. At least not yet. (Yay for religious trauma).

In conclusion, the sad thing about bad timing and projection is: now Crowley is worried that Aziraphale sees him as sinful and unacceptable, as someone who needs forgiveness. But the truth is, Aziraphale is the one who still struggles with seeing himself as sinful and unacceptable, and as someone who needs forgiveness for his urges, desires, and feelings.

But, the good news is - Aziraphale does not always see himself in that way. We know that he has been putting a lot of work into breaking away from heaven's toxic values, and into developing his own values (e.g. "our side"). Like I said above, old habits die hard, they are more likely to surface during times of stress, and all that is a normal part of the process of psychological change.

I am very confident that once Aziraphale has a hot minute to himself, once he has time to calmly process everything that's happened - he will see some things differently. And he will eventually be doing the Apology Dance for "using projection as a deadly weapon. " :)

[enassbraid]

helloooo!! can I request a the pjsk boys with a reader who is "perfect"/popular (example: good grades, a lot of friends, talented in art/most school subjects, etc) but they actually hate it (bc people keep using it as an argument when the reader discusses about their grades)? I'm sorry if this is too specific bc this is basically a summary of me 😭 But anyway, thanks in advance, I love your writing <)

-> 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞…

You can’t help being a natural at almost anything you do, just like others can’t help seeing that as your only trait. Fortunately, there’s always someone who doesn’t see you only for your skills…

With Akito Shinonome, Toya Aoyagi, Tsukasa Tenma & Rui Kamishiro | Genre - Comfort with a fair amount of angst

Cw) anxiety, pent up emotions, belittling, fights (none between reader and characters listed above), it gets noticeably shorter during Tsukasa’s part cause I was tired

Akito felt honored at first. You, of all people, saw something good enough in him that was actually worth something. It almost didn’t feel real. But this type of thinking didn’t last long, not even a week in fact.

He quickly realized he shouldn’t have been idolizing you the way he was, and you were still a regular person just like him. You may be more skilled, intelligent and quicker than others, but you were still a regular high schooler at the end of the day.

But that didn’t make others think the same way.

You made everything look so easy, so simple. Your peers admired you for this, and held you up on the pedestal Akito once did. A part of him worried about you. After all, all these people can’t acknowledge any flaws you have. You should be happy, right?

But that wasn’t the case at all.

You felt pressured, anxious, worried. What if you messed something up? Would anyone ever see you the same way? Everything had to be perfect, it just has to.

The street singer recognized your thinking, it felt all too familiar to him. He assured you it’s okay to make mistakes, and not everything has to be perfect. But that’s what he thinks, what about what everyone else thinks? It didn’t take long for you to find that out however.

“Ah, I can’t believe I failed the exam… I didn’t think it’d be that hard!” One of your classmates said.

“Tell me about it, half the questions weren’t even on the study guide we got.” Another classmate replied.

The exam was… hard. But it wasn’t impossible. It felt like it was designed to challenge everyone rather than actually test the students. Even you flunked the test a bit.

“I bet you (Name) over there still managed to get a 100, right (Name)?” One of which called over to you, you didn’t bother to remember who though.

“Actually… I got a lower grade as well. 78 out of a 100. It was pretty difficult this time.” You replied.

You were hoping your words would make the others feel less failure. If you got a low grade- what they considered a perfect classmate and student- then they shouldn��t stress too much over their failures. Right?

You wish you were right.

“Are you kidding me? You get a 100 on like… everything! How did your grade drop that bad?” The girl scowled at you, feeling as if you were mocking her for some reason.

“Well it wasn’t the easiest, and it was designed to challenge us, including me.” You said back. Your two classmates looked at you in disbelief. Were you being serious?

“It’s different coming from you. You place in the top 10 all the time during these tests! Usually your first! You should have been the one who passed.” Ouch.

Those words hit you like a brick. Yeah… they were right, you were supposed to be the saving grace for the class’s average. And you went ahead and flopped just like everyone else? They were right, you had no excuse.

The bell rang and you picked up your bag, hastily walking out of the classroom. You couldn’t be seen like this, everyone’s going to find out…

Navigating the crowded hallways, you search for the school’s exit. The staff will only think you got sick and had to go home, no one would ever think of you as a class cutter. If it’s only one time… they shouldn’t mind.

Right as you were about to push the door open, a hand grabs your shoulder.

“Where do you think your going..?” A familiar voice asked.

You turn around, fearing the worst and expecting to make eye contact with a teacher.

“…without me.” He finished.

“Akito!”

He let go of your shoulder, figuring you got the hint. He chuckled a bit as your face showed relief. ‘They must have been really worried about getting caught.’ He thinks.

“Great to see you too. Now, would you answer the question?” His voice sounded stern, yet playful.

“It was just… a bad time today. In class I mean. Um, I don’t think I feel comfortable talking about it here though.” You said. The last thing you needed was for anyone to hear how badly you thought you screwed up.

“Alright then, lead the way.”

You looked both ways, making sure there were no witnesses nearby before pushing the door open and making a run for it, your boyfriend not far behind. You two ran for a few minutes until it was ensured no one was after you.

But neither of you quit moving. Akito wouldn’t say it himself, but he was also itching to get out of there, and was kinda grateful you were as well. Otherwise, he’d probably be suffering alone in school right now. You both were itching to get home- either of your homes.

Opening your front door- much calmer than the last door you opened, you didn’t waste a second to walk through. Kicking off your shoes and hanging your bag up, the ginger behind you following suit, you were finally home.

“So, what happened earlier?” He asked, throwing himself on your bed.He’s been wondering ever since he caught you at the school door, it was very out of character for you to.. rebel… like that.

“Right.. I had a little slip up in class. They were talking about tests grades- the most recent one they got. Everyone either failed or got below an 80, including me. I thought… I thought telling them I had a low grade as well would make them feel a bit better. But they got frustrated- saying something about how I can’t possibly fail a test.” You sighed, it was still fresh in your mind. Even as you crawled into your bed where you’re supposed to be calm.

Akito stayed silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts and thinking of the right words to use. Even if you didn’t say it flat out, he knew you were troubled at the thought of people thinking differently of you. You felt this strange ‘responsibility’ of maintaining this perfectionist reputation. He was never sure how to feel about that. Should he have reassured you more? Been more worried? He couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“You shouldn’t worry about what those bitches think. They clearly didn’t understand that test wasn’t meant to be passed with a perfect score, huh? You did though, and you still passed right? Even if you failed, that’s okay. At the end of the day… isn’t it just a number?”

You took a moment to process his words. He was right, you did still pass. Even if it wasn’t a perfect score… a passing grade is enough, right?

“You don’t like the way you are, don’t you?” He continued, this time getting past your imaginary mask.

You shook your head silently. Of course you didn’t. Everyone expects so much from you all the time, it’s so… stressful. You despised it, you’d do anything to be an average person.

He didn’t need you to say anything, your reaction was enough. He shifted closer to you so his presence felt less vague, it comforted you.

“I hope you realize you don’t have to do everything right, and I never want you to feel as if you have to keep that up around me.” Your heart warmed, of course he’d say that.

Even if everyone else wanted the most from you, Akito only wanted whatever you had to give. If it was nothing, that’s fine. You alone is enough for him.

It was hard for anyone to imagine Toya with a partner who’s so… outgoing. Even if it wasn’t intentional, you seemed to know anyone and everyone in the district. But as they say, opposites attract.

He never minded how well known you were. At times he may feel just a tad jealous when someone holds you up for too long, but besides that, it was never too much of a bother. He may not know what it’s like to be in your shoes, but he thought he had a good idea of what it was like.

Everyone knew you, almost all of them taking a liking to you. It was rare to hear of someone who disliked you for reasons other than jealousy. You must always have options when it comes to going out, and you’re probably entertained at functions like that often.

At least, that’s what Toya believed at first.

Slowly over time, he began to pick up on your sudden shifts in facial expressions. You were all smiles when an acquaintance came up to talk to you. But the moment they walked away, your face instantly dropped into what looked like annoyance.

You’d giggle with someone, but once they left you scoffed. You’d gossip with someone else, and once they left you’d roll your eyes. But not once did you verbally express complaint.

Toya was no idiot, he realized your stance on your popularity. You weren’t happy about it, at all. He intended in speaking to you about it eventually, but it came sooner than planned unexpectedly…

You were walking down the streets with Toya, on your way to meet up with his group at one of their favorite locations. There were more people walking than usual today, but you didn’t pay any mind to it, considering it irrelevant. But little did you know…

“Oh look, it’s (Name) and their boyfriend! How are you two?” A chipper girl said. She had an… odd… look in her eyes.

“We’re doing pretty good! We were just on our way to meet up with friends actually!” You smiled sweetly, but you felt sick to your stomach knowing who this girl was.

“That’s so cute! If you don’t mind, can me and my friends over there tag along? We won’t be a bother, I swear!” She practically squealed that first part, leaving your ears ringing.

Toya looked between you, the girl, and her friends a few feet away. He caught on to what you were thinking, thankfully.

“Apologies, but the meeting is exclusively for close friends. And we’re in a hurry, so if you’ll excuse us…”

‘He’s my saving grace’ You thought. Although, you thought just a little too soon.

“Wow (Name), you never said anything about your boyfriend being such a douche. You seriously gonna let him make these decisions for you?” You internally screamed at her, calling her all sorts of names. Of course, you refrained from this on the outside.

“He’s not making decisions for me, we are actually in a hurry and this meeting is exclusively for close friends. We need to get going now…” You took off, grabbing Toya’s hand in the process before she could say anything else.

You sighed, of course you had to have a run in like that on what was supposed to be a good day. Who knows what you’ll come home to hear this time. What’s it going to be now? You were a bitch to someone you barley knew simply because you didn’t want to be late? That is something they’d say to bring you down.

The hangout went smooth, no more random encounters with randoms. But the scene from earlier related over and over in your mind.

“(Name), are you alright?” Toya asked. He asked quietly in order to avoid attracting the attention of others, you found it considerate.

“I’m alright, just thinking. That’s all.” Liar.

Toya nodded, averting his attention back to the recording An and Akito were making him listen to. Apparently they were coming up with a new song for their next event, and wanted his input on it.

You found yourself dissociating from the group. It’s been hours, and you just wanted to get home to find out if anything new was spread about you.

“It’s getting late, I think me and (Name) are gonna head home now. Is that good, (Name)?” You practically jumped out of your seat when you heard “head home.”

“Yeah, I’m ready. I’m exhausted and need to go to sleep… I’ll see you all later!” You waved goodbye to everyone alongside Toya. Exiting Weekend Garage, making your way to Toya’s place.

The walk was silent, but a comfortable silent. Neither of you said a word the whole way to his place, but you still knew what the other was thinking.

Opening the door, he stepped aside to let you in first.

“We need to talk about something.” He said.

‘There it is…’ you thought. It was only a matter of time. He lead you upstairs to his room, hoping you’d be more comfortable talking in his own space. You took your spot on his bed, waiting for his next words.

“You’ve been acting strange, or I’ve noticed how strange you act. Specifically when your around people who seem to know you. Does that… make you uncomfortable?” Maybe it wasn’t the time to think of it, but you were relieved this wasn’t a breakup talk.

“It’s… complicated.”

“I’ll listen to any complications you have.”

Taking a deep breath, you let everything out. All the pent up frustration you’ve kept in for so long.

“I’m just so… annoyed. Annoyed with everyone. Not you of course, but all these other people. Everyone thinks I’m happy to hear their gossip about others, but it just makes me view everyone involved differently. Like that girl we saw today, she’s a cheating bitch who cheated on all her exes for some random guy she meets. And then if I tell anyone what I think of someone else, I’m the two-faced one.” You took another breath, you needed it after all that talking.

You threw your head back to the wall, sighing again. You weren’t even sure how it got like this, when all these people saw you as a comfort person. It was starting to stress you out.

Thankfully, Toya caught on. He took your hand in his and started rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It’s the little actions that always mean the most.

“I couldn’t possibly know how you feel. But what I can tell you is that none of those people deserve you. If all they do is bad mouth others to you, messing with your head, then they could do the same thing back to you. You deserve the best possible friends out there, not people who think they know you.”

“You say I deserve the best friends, but I already have the best boyfriend, don’t I?” You pointed out. His cheeks flushed a bit, but only briefly.

You chuckled at his reaction, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Toya. You’re the only person I ever want to know. Well, our other friends as well. But especially you.”

He smiled into your hair. Both of you were really lucky, huh?

You were always quite talented at the arts. Whether it be musical arts, visual arts, or any other type of art, it was guaranteed you would excel. This was what inevitably drew Tsukasa towards you. He found your talent admirable, and aspired to reach your level of skill one day.

Whenever you drew around him, he watched intently, starry eyes following every pencil stroke you made. Whenever you played an instrument near him, he’d drop whatever he was going to listen. It was almost spell-bounding to him.

You of course, appreciated his enthusiasm. But sometimes you wished he’d focus a little less on whatever your doing and focus more on you. You implied this discreetly once in a conversation, and he didn’t realize till later. Once he realized though, he thought it was better to focus on you more anyways.

If Tsukasa is able to pick up on that, shouldn’t anyone else be able to? You wished that was the case

You groaned out in frustration as yet another peer handed you their art assignment to “help” with. They disguised it as help, but in reality they only wanted you to finish it for them, that way they get a better grade. It was… annoying to say the least.

Examining what was left, it seemed possible to get it done before the class ends. You got to work immediately in order to avoid any more pestering later.

As usual, other students gathered over your shoulder. Some were a little too close for comfort, and it was starting to distract you. A lot.

“I’m sorry, but could you please back up a bit? You’re in my personal space and it’s pretty distracting.” You asked as politely as possible.

The male rolled his eyes a bit before backing up. You thought that would be the end of it- you wished that was the end of it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“What do they mean they’re ‘distracted’? They were doing just fine when I was standing that close. Making a big deal out of nothing… geez.” He spoke up, a little too late after he moved away.

Your wrist stopped, dropping the pencil. ‘What’s his problem?’

“Excuse me?”

Anyone who wasn’t looking before was definitely looking now. The room went dead quiet after hearing the malice in your voice. Others near you backed away, while some got a bit closer to hear better.

“You didn’t hear me the first time? I said you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You were doing just fine. Was all that attention not enough for you? You wanted more? Well you definitely got it now.” He laughed at bit after that last remark, pissing you off even more.

“I heard you loud and clear the first time. Just wanted to see if you had the guts to repeat it is all.”

“Oh yeah? And what were you going to do if I didn’t?”

You abruptly stood up, getting more and more irritated with every second that passed. The look on this guy’s face was enough to frustrate you alone, his words were just additions to that.

You were toe to toe with him now. Your other classmates were finally backing away now, but the only one who didn’t stayed toe to toe with you.

“Cute, you’re just gonna stand there?” He mocked.

Clenching your fist as tight as ever, you raised it. The punch was swift, but it felt like a stab in the stomach to him.

“(Full Name). Office, now.” Apparently in the midst of everything, someone went off to get a teacher before it could escalate to… that. While they were a little late, it definitely prevented it from escalating further.

You walked to the office with the teacher, holding your head down in shame. It felt like all eyes were on you, and everything sounded so quiet. The only good thing to come out of this was getting sent home early.

You got let off with a 2 day suspension, while the one who provoked you only got a detention. It pissed you off reasonably, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Because he didn’t attack first or even attack at all, you were seen as the problem.

“…and that’s how my day went. Sorry Tsukasa, I won’t see you around school for a few days.” You finished telling your boyfriend all the events that occurred today, and why someone told him to ‘get his partner in check.’

He sat in front of you dumbfounded. For a moment, he felt all the rage you felt when everything was happening. He was almost as pissed off as you were at the detention punishment as well.

“But you were being harassed! It wasn’t physical, but who knew if that guy was going to throw a punch first. You were only sticking up for yourself!” He exclaimed. You sighed, muttering an “I know” under your breath.

He huffed, crossing his arms to express his seriousness right now.

“Well… I don’t think you did anything wrong. Shouldn’t the girl who made you finish her art project be blamed for all this? If she never gave it to you then this all could have been avoided!”

“I thought about that, but she wasn’t even in the room when all this happened. And it still comes back to me for doing her project anyways.”

Tsukasa sensed your frustration. He tried to calm himself down to avoid adding onto it, but it was still in the back of his mind.

“The only way any of this could have been avoided is if I sucked at art.” You bluntly said. Tsukasa turned his head, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Why would you want to suck at art though?” He asked.

“It’d keep people away from me, make them stop seeing me as a homework machine or something. I don’t like the kind of attention it gives me.”

He tried to understand where you were coming from, but it was difficult. He loves the attention being a self proclaimed star gets him, and would never want to give his title up. But you were the complete opposite.

Still, even if he didn’t understand, he’d try his best.

“I think… I think what you do is amazing (Name). But I don’t think it’s amazing that people use you for your talent, and I find it even less amazing how it deteriorates your self esteem.” He tried to keep his voice as soft as possible.

“Thank you, Tsukasa. I just… I just wish things went a little differently for me, that’s all.”

He could understand that this time. Sometimes he wished things went differently for him as well, but that thought was buried in the back of his mind with all the others.

He took your hand in his, reassuring you he wasn’t going anywhere. He swore he’d always see you as who you were as a person before your talents.

And it worked. The built up anger finally dying down.

Your scientific mind never went unnoticed by Rui. How could it be? Not only was it a trait he found quite attractive, but it was also what lead to your relationship with each other.

Not a day went by where he didn’t appreciate your love for all things science related. You’d frequently ask him questions about his own inventions, even offering help with a handful of them. The ones you assisted him with felt more important than any other inventions he had.

You were placed in the highest science courses available. Chemistry, physics, biology, you were somehow taking all of them at once. The school saw you as some sort of “prodigy” and wanted to push you as best as they possibly could. Which certainly worked! But…

Some students weren’t as welcoming as others. Not everyone thought your vast knowledge in science was normal, some even considered it ‘unhealthy.’ You tried your best to ignore them, but it’s hard to ignore something that’s right in front of you.

With chemistry involving, well, chemicals, your class was often in a lab room during the period. The professor enjoyed being unpredictable, so you never knew what to expect walking into the room. But you wouldn’t have thought he’d try something so… inconsiderate.

The first thing you noticed was a chart projected on the board, the second thing you notice is that it’s a seating chart. Any groups from earlier in the year were changed into random clusters. Some were excited for this change, while others, including yourself, groaned out in frustration.

Because of course, you just had to have the worst group.

Two members of the table seemed to be familiar with each other already, giggling amongst themselves. The third person looked completely out of it, not appearing to be paying attention to anything going on around him. You were already feeling like the odd one out here.

“Oh look, we have (Name) in our group! This class should be much easier now.” One of the girls said.

You looked at her for a moment, averting your guys to other next to her. She seemed to find what her friend said amusing, you could tell what was going on already.

“(Name) did I ever tell you how gorgeous your eyes are? Does wearing those… science goggles make your eyes look prettier?” Her smile seemed as fake as her lashes, but for now you just had to stay civil…

You tune the rest of the room out to focus on the assignment handed to you. All you had to do was write a few equations and answer some questions… nothing too bad. If you finish early, you can probably get out of this class sooner.

Your focus was disrupted by obnoxious tapping on the table.

“Can you give me the answers when you’re done?” Your group-mate asked. It took every ounce of self control to avoid rolling your eyes and turning away, instead you pretended you never heard her.

“Hello? Anyone there? Earth to (Name)~!” She said in a sing song voice. Still, as long as you pretend you never heard it…

“God, can they be anymore rude? They think they’re the shit just cause they’re in all these science courses. Just grow up already!” At that point she knew you were listening, and was resorting to shit talk to get your attention.

Unfortunately that was what grabbed your attention. Peering up at the girl with a look of annoyance, she giggled again.

“Looks like someone can hear after all!”

“Fuck off.” You replied. Stuffing your paper into your bag, you asked the teacher if you could see the nurse, to which he agreed. You couldn’t stand that table already, and you have to do that for a whole semester? Hell no.

Some students were already on their free period or lunch, so the hallways were a bit crowded, but not terribly. Thankfully it made it much easier to spot a tall purple haired male nearby.

“Rui, there you are.” You said while practically running up to him.

“Well, if it isn’t dear (Name), shouldn’t you be in..” You cut him off.

“Chemistry? Yeah. I got out to ‘go to the nurse’ but I really just wanted to cut the rest of the class. We got new groups today- mine is the worst.”

“I see…” he replied.

It was clear you were unhappy with these new seats, but there wasn’t much you could do about them. Rui acknowledged this, and tried to come up with quick solutions on the spot. Though he could tell you about them later. Right now, you just need a shoulder to lean on it seems. Literally and figuratively.

You sighed into his shoulder as he played with you hair. It felt more private in this part of the school, so there was less shame in the PDA. Besides, it at least looked normal compared to other couples.

“I hate science.” You said.

“Excuse me?”

Maybe you could have phrased that better… but part of you meant that as well.

“I just hate how everyone treats me because of science, it’s not fair. I’m just ahead of everyone else and have a passion, why is that such a problem?” You continued.

Rui knew exactly what you meant. He spent years being outcasted for being a weirdo, primarily about science. It was easy to sympathize with you.

“I know what you mean… but at the end of the day, who’ll be the one wearing a cool looking lab coat ten years from now? Definitely not them.” He joked, trying to lighten your mood a bit before class starts again. If anyone else had said that you’d have just rolled your eyes. But because it was Rui, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You punched his shoulder lightly, making him chuckle. ‘Your spirits have been lifted up’ he thought.

“Just what would I do without you Rui…”

“Not thinking of yourself in a lab coat standing over everyone else, that’s for sure.” He replied.

Feeling better, you leaped up and stretched your arms out. Rui following suit, just a bit lazier. He handed you your bag and you thanked him.

“Mind walking me to my next class?” You asked.

“I’ll never mind doing anything for you. And… that’s our class, I’m in it as well.” He remarked teasingly. He sits right in front of you in that class, but you just wanted to see what he’d say.

“Right right, now let’s go before I accidentally drop a fire cracker here…”

You two were really made for each other, huh?

[utilitycaster]

Speaking of Laura and Marisha having relatively weak chemistry, which CR cast members do you think have the strongest chemistry (romantic or otherwise) across campaigns?

I've tried to limit this because I could literally name a great relationship for basically every cast pairing at this point, but some of my favorites. To keep things balanced, I've done a sort of circle situation with two pairings per cast member. I also haven't included Matt just because I think it would be weird because as DM he has to play off everyone well, and he does.

Travis and Liam always have something bizarrely intense and it's different every single time and it's never quite romantic (other than Bertrand/Lieve'tel) but it is, frequently, homoerotic. Obviously most present for Fjord and Caleb and particularly their conversation in the Xhorhaus, but the "I want to give you an experience" line in late Campaign VM and Chetney and Orym's conversation in the Heartmoor are two examples.

Ashley and Travis are also always good; Pike and Grog are legendary for a reason, Fearne and Chetney have some extremely fun stuff going on but can also take it to more serious places, notably their discussion after Ashton's shard absorption attempt. and Fjord and Yasha didn't interact a ton but their few moments (I'm specifically thinking their shopping trip around episode 108 or 109?) are stellar.

Sam and Ashley have the same quality I think Liam and Travis have, namely, they are on some level playing chicken with each other and neither will back down. We see this with Pikelan; my favorite interaction is Pike being mad at Scanlan after he returns from his Meat Man era. Pike and Tary and the flashcards to remember VM is also a legendary scene for a reason. Veth and Yasha have some unbelievably funny conversations (I killed my whole family, I'll throw you under a bridge) and FCG and Fearne have run the gamut from poignant (post-Otohan Fight) to ridiculous (Fearne riding FCG around and using them as a thermos; honestly, the latest Otohan encounter somehow straddled these two vibes).

Laura and Sam should be a legendary cast pairing. They tend to play in a similar space thematically and they also keep overlapping in some sort of stat or outlook as well, without ever playing characters who knew each other beforehand. It's uncanny. We had Vex and Scanlan as Vox Machina's Charm (highlight being Vex's reaction during Bard's Lament). Vex and Tary becoming best friends and opening a bakery. Jester and Veth's shenanigans and deep friendship (messing around in that temple in Zadash; Jester confiding in her about Fjord kissing her; that one time where they encountered the syphilis bandits and kept running past each other in the dark; Jester taking the flask; and many more). And FCG and Imogen's early campaign closeness, with Imogen insisting on FCG's personhood and the two of them doing mind and dream stuff together.

Taliesin and Laura, unsurprisingly given the appeal of Perc'ahlia, are always great as well. Their willingness as Percy and Vex to be incredibly honest with each other, even about their darker traits, is commendable. Molly and Jester were fascinating because I don't think he respected her much but he did enjoy her company, and she admired him greatly. Team Cleric was also, naturally, a great duo, and I particularly think of them both returning to their respective thematic wells of closed-offness and recognizing it in each other, but going to other places to open up. We didn't get a ton of Kingsley, but he and Jester seem to get along pretty well! And Imogen and Ashton's standout moment was post-shard, but they also had a really good conversation after All-Minds-Burn, and I think they are able to embrace the tension regarding their different idealizations of estranged parents as seen in the latest episode.

Marisha and Taliesin are also really unafraid to explore conflict with each other, and it enhances their character interactions. Percy and Keyleth's friendship is fascinating because it seems that pre-stream they were quite close, but once the Briarwoods arc hit they often found themselves at odds and played off each other brilliantly. I love Molly and Beau's belligerence as well; that is one of my personal big regrets about Molly's death, and Marisha did a fantastic job showing how Beau was affected. Beau and Caduceus were also really interesting, in that they saw each other as the adults of the team for a while, especially early on. Beau and Kingsley have a great conversation in the Nein Reunited. And I've been pretty open about finding Laudna and Ashton's chemistry fascinating; while I enjoyed it romantically earlier, and would have loved to see how that played out, there's just such a great weird tension now, post-shard, that's hard to pin down.

Liam and Marisha have two of I think the most popular relationships in C1 and C2 and with good reason. Vax and Keyleth complement each other incredibly well, and I find Keyleth's feelings about the Raven Queen and how she and Vax approach them very differently to be beautifully done. Empire Siblings are again a favorite - they're so often at odds early on even as Beau has a lot of empathy for Caleb, and they're both the nerds of the party and among the most politically-minded to the point of working closely together years after the campaign. Laudna and Orym are also fascinating because they have these similar and yet wildly different ties to Vox Machina, and Orym feels for her situation, and they have some great conversations during the Issylra arc, but I actually love the growing tension. I love Orym flat out telling Laudna that this mission is important and he is pressuring Imogen because only she is capable of getting this information. I'm excited for the infiltration that's coming up!

But also because I can't limit myself here's some thoughts generally about cases where it's not every campaign but it's worth watching. The short version is "Travis and Ashley have some kind of chemistry with everyone."

I can name at least one relationship, romantic or platonic, between one of Travis's characters and a character from every other cast member, but I specifically want to shout out him and Marisha, who have zero romantic chemistry and bananas platonic chemistry in not just all three campaigns but also EXU Calamity and Candela Obscura Chapter 2. (He and Taliesin tend to have a fun and different thing going on each campaign and have a lot of similarities as players; Scanlan and Grog's clown to clown communication and Fjord and Veth's weirdly charged hostility are great; and hilariously I am obviously a massive fan of Fjord and Jester but I feel like the Baileyhams each campaign are like either we're doing high romance or we're going extremely our separate ways, which kind of makes sense in that they have extremely different approaches to D&D but also a lot of overlap in themes. Like on the rare occasions Grog and Vex, or Chetney and Imogen talk it's very good but they're certainly not the closest of characters)

Ashley also plays well with everyone. She has phenomenal chemistry with both Marisha and Laura. Beauyasha is readily apparent but also what we saw of Pike with both Keyleth and Vex was fantastic, and Imogen and Fearne are great and have some sparks, and Yasha and Jester had some incredible conversations. I also enjoy Ashley and Liam but have never shipped their characters romantically (and I suppose that was only even feasible in C1 given character sexualities); that's on my list of "could be fun" because they do always play off each other well. I will say, Ashton and Fearne have grown on me as a pairing but Ashley and Taliesin have always like...quietly vibed and had some great moments, and I think Molly and Yasha was (platonically) promising and cut short, and I love the conversation where Caduceus encourages Yasha to tell Beau how she feels, but they've never quite blown me away. I would like to see it though. There's potential.

Marisha and Sam seem to operate in very different spaces and so like...Keyleth and Scanlan, or Laudna and FCG, don't really interact much though they do have some mechanical overlap (Keyleth and Scanlan were good in combat together but didn't talk a ton) but specifically as Beau and Veth they were incredible. This is out of game but I very much enjoy their rapport during the Midst roundtables. Would love to see more.

Liam and Sam are also a fascinating case in that they're obviously very close friends irl but it's only as Veth and Caleb, and as the Grimms in Candela Obscura, that they've played characters who were close. They do have great chemistry though, romantic and platonic, and I'd love to see it explored. Liam and Laura are also interesting in that I love the twins and think they're amazing, and I like Orym and Imogen's relationship but particularly with C2 in the rearview, I just do not see much romantic chemistry between them at all. Bonkers good platonic chemistry though.

Taliesin and Sam are also a fun one in that I do like FCG and Ashton's friendship and their post-shard absorption conversation was a standout, as is Percy's outburst at Scanlan during the Bard's Lament and his friendship with Tary (and Tary's crush on him). Veth and Molly had some good moments; Veth and Caduceus did NOT know how to interact with each other.

[dnbcoded]

cdnb prompt: after his first encounter with ctechno, cdream uses high heels shoes bc doesn't want to look so short next to him and in the middle of doomsday ctechno finds out about this

OK. Let me see if I still got it.

He doesn't notice, at first. There's too much more things going on in his life to even begin to think about it.

Dream's sudden growing sprout is one of those things that he misses in the middle of everything, but still takes notes, waiting for the second he can finally go hibernate and think about it. In fact, he was waiting for that little retrive to capture everything about Dream and just shove it in a box and stop having to take note of everything that Dream does.

He is not repressed, chat. Shut up.

He doesn't notice, and he plans on not noticing, until Dream's little grubby, greedy, slender and surprisingly well cared for hands--until Dream gets him involved like the meddlesome man he is. Suddenly they were walking towards L'manberg's demise as Dream has wanted since basically forever, and Techno realizes --only the slightless bit regretfully-- that he played right into his hand. With horror, he finds himself anything but angry at being so easily led to a solution that benefits Dream and only Dream; rather, he thinks it's a little endearing, and that cannot be possible.

He tried to remind himself about how terrible Dream is as they walk, but the man is anything but subtle, there's a pep to his step--hes practically walking without his soles touching the ground from how excited he is, and he's talking Techno's ear off about how he plans to build the platform for the bombs, and he can hear his shit-eating grin as he discusses how little of L'manberg there will be left.

He's only a pig, after all. So he takes note of all of it, and tries his best to ignore it. He ignores, too, the way they're basically the same size, towering over Philza who's actually doing his job at scouting the terrain so they're undetected at dawn. He pretends he just trusts Philza's judgement, and not that he's terribly charmed by the other man.

This wasn't always the case. Once upon a time, Dream was at least a foot shorter, and more irritating than lovely, and he didn't talk about destruction. There was a hesitancy that Techno recognized as human. He had overcome doubt, and thus, humanity--while remaining mortal. Techno... was intrigued by that. (He'll only stop denying this fleeting crush once it's efficiently death and the recipient of his current adoration is long gone, he promises.)

Now, he's tall and regal, and as deathly as ever. He's a wildfire, a burning lamp. Techno is better than a moth.

His eyes still rake over the figure as he starts towering up, occupying only the faint morning lights as guide. Techno notes the possible enchanted nature of his mask, and hates himself for it.

It's as he's watching, that he notices.

"Bro, are those high heels?" And all at once Dream's height makes sense, even though it shouldn't matter to Techno. He's still gawking at the man who's--blushing. That's a blush on the edge of his ears, not covered by a hoodie for once.

"That's--shut up, don't be an idiot." He hisses, his mask suddenly pointing towards Philza as if scared he'll hear. Oh, this is fascinating.

"Nothin' wrong with being fashionista, I tell you." Techno says, smug, leaning the faintest bit down to look at Dream directly. "But a man that's, ah, homeless... you would think he had better priorities than heels."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, I HAVE A HOUSE!" Dream shrills, effectively making Techno lean away. Then his arms cross on front of his torso, the picture of a diva. The heels are a deep green, and they click as he steps back. Oh, how didn't Techno notice?

You were trying hard not to notice, chat whispers. Then, of course, it notices it has Techno's attention. eee, EEE, DREAMSIMP, dream dream dream, Dream in chat, hi techno :), eeeE, STOP SIMPING.

"Not denying the fashionista allegations, I see." Techno replicates. His companion huffs, and then turns back to finally get to tower up. And this time Techno allows himself to notice the shape of his legs--and no, he's not being weird, Dream's ass is on the way okay-- and the way it curls with the distinct form of a trained heel wearer. Techno has no thoughts about Dream's skintight pants nor the way the heels are beautifully integrated into his body, to the clear attention to detail Dream used to pride in, that he still has.

Something in Techno's chest aches. But it's barely morning, and they have a job to do.

"If you wanted to see how it felt to be tall," he calls back, placing a lazy hand around to make his voice sound louder. "You could've just asked for me to carry you."

SHUT THE FUCK UP, Dream whispered in chat.

[lurkingshan]

Only Friends and Engaging with Queer Male Media as a Cishet Woman

I’ve had some good conversations this week with friends as we’ve been unpacking our early reactions to Only Friends, which has only just begun getting into the messy dynamics we know the show is going to explore. One of the things that has come up in conversation is our different reactions to the scene between Boston and Top in the shower stall, and how we each read that in terms of consent, sexual coercion, and what it says about each of the characters. Some of us were relatively unfazed by the scene, finding it to be a fairly realistic depiction of a pushy aggressor and his conquest who is not that into him, but also not really opposed to getting sex anywhere and any way he can. Some were more uncomfortable, recognizing behaviors we might call assault in other contexts and wondering whether we should be condemning the character or the scene for the behavior depicted.

For me, this discussion brought up a lot of my previous fandom experiences, taking me all the way back to ye olden days when Queer as Folk (US) was airing and the majority cishet woman fandom spaces were scandalized, scandalized I tell you, by some of the aspects of gay male culture it depicted. It was not the first or the last show to do so, but it stands out in my mind as an important cultural moment at the turn of century as I was coming of age, when the internet was booming and the proliferation of online fandom spaces was rapidly accelerating. Because QaF did it all—casual sex, cruising, group sex, very public acts of indecency, aggressive boundary pushing and peacocking, open and polyamorous relationships, cheating and betrayal, age gaps—and it depicted it all quite explicitly, which made a lot of people uncomfortable. Especially women who were used to thinking about sex and relationships through two primary, and heavily socialized, lenses:

heteronormative romance, and

heterosexual rape culture.

Let’s take a moment to unpack those terms. Heteronormative romance is a big, broad term that I’m using as a kind of container for a lot of things, including patriarchal structures, misogyny, rigid gender roles, purity myths and fetishization of virginity, courtship rituals, promiscuity and respectability politics, the madonna/whore complex, sex as an act primarily for breeding and procreation, expectations of sublimating sexual desire in service of caretaking for others, and so on. Basically, all the bullshit cis women get jammed into our heads from birth that gives us so many hang ups about sex and love. With heterosexual rape culture, I am referring to the undeniable culture of sexual violence women also endure in a majority heterosexual society, in which we are in constant danger of having our boundaries transgressed, being physically and psychologically hurt, and then being told it doesn’t matter because our personhood has always been in question and never mattered as much as any one man’s power or pleasure. I’m not going to drop a bunch of citations for the above because this is tumblr and I have escaped the icy grip of graduate school, but if any of these ideas are unfamiliar to you, google is your pal (and please read about intersectionality as it relates to these concepts while you’re at it, because there are layers of identity that make these dangers worse for some, like our trans and BIPOC sisters, and all of this is undergirded, as ever, by white supremacy).

So, yes, engaging with media about sex is fraught for women, especially when that media does not conform to our heteronormative ideas of morality that have been shaped by all of the above, and particularly when we as individuals have not done the work to unpack and interrogate our socialized beliefs, which is often the case for cishet women especially. Many of us instinctively cringe away from unromantic depictions of sex. Many of us can’t stand cheating and betrayal in our love stories. Many of us shy away from media that depicts the unfortunate reality of grey and dubious consent. All of that is valid, to an extent, and rooted in the way we have been taught to think about this stuff from birth, and the ways we’ve had to adapt to survive. 

But, here’s the thing, girlies: most of those socialized hang ups I just talked about? Do not apply to a story by, for, and about queer men. 

Before you start yelling, here is your disclaimer: of course patriarchy and misogyny also hurt men. Of course rape culture also exists in queer communities, and of course some queer people engage in heterosexual sex, so these are not mutually exclusive categories of people. And, importantly, cishet women are not the only ones who struggle with these tensions—just the ones who are most relevant to this particular post. 

So, after that long and winding road, back to the point: this debate about the bathroom scene in Only Friends is the same shit that’s been debated in majority female fandoms around depictions of queer male sex since time immemorial. And whatever your personal feelings are on that scene, or the no doubt numerous other depictions of questionable romantic and sexual etiquette and dubious consent coming our way in this show, what it boils down to is this: can a majority cis woman fandom step outside of our own conception of sexual morality to engage with this show not with judgment, but with curiosity about what sex and relationships look like for queer men? This show has an entirely queer male writing and directing team. It is made with love by people of the community, for the community. They know what they’re about, they have resumes demonstrating they are damn good storytellers who understand safe sex, consent, sexual health, and sex work, and they are here to tell us a story grounded in their reality. BL has been moving in fits and starts toward depictions of sex that are more honest about queer male experiences, and Only Friends, spearheaded by the Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong (who demonstrated quite ably that he has a firm grasp on consent, sexual assault, and the damage that dubious consent can cause in The Warp Effect), is the next step in that evolution. The key point is that sexual activity simply does not mean the same thing or carry the same associations and hang ups for queer men as it does for cis women. With that in mind, can we try our best to process and critique this story on their terms, instead of our own?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Only Friends is not going to be a good time for people who are looking for romantic depictions of relationships and sex or invested in identifying heroes and villains amongst this cast of characters. This show is about deeply flawed people hurting each other, rooted in the lived experience of the Thai queer male community—and those of us who do not share all of those lived experiences may not understand the nuances of every single thing that is happening. We can be sure that the characters will all be wrong sometimes and they will all do things we think are stupid or reckless or unkind. Does that mean we can’t have empathy for them? Do they have to act in a way we think is morally “correct” in order to love them? You don’t have to be comfortable with the things these characters do, and it’s certainly valid to point out when you think lines have been crossed. But attempting to sort them into “good” and “bad” camps is pointless, and moralistic judgment of their behavior is out of place, particularly when it comes from a place of trying to force them into our own irrelevant frameworks for sexual politics. 

And with all that said, I am passing the baton over to my dear friend @waitmyturtles, because there’s an entire aspect of the intersectional cultures at play here that I have barely touched on—Only Friends as an Asian queer story that is building from a specific lineage of Thai queer media. I’m gonna let her take the mic for that part, and say thanks to her, @bengiyo, @neuroticbookworm and @wen-kexing-apologist for reading this over and helping me think through what I wanted to say here, and shoutout to @williamrikers whose post I also linked to above.