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genericpuff · 2 days

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The Derivative Fashion Sense of Lore Olympus

So I'm usually out here going Gordon Ramsay on Rachel's ass about her writing and art, but for this unsolicited essay I will be wearing a different hat.

Yep, we're going Miranda Priestly today. Specifically the Miranda Priestly who talks fashion, not the Miranda Priestly who abuses employees lmao (though rest assured, I'm gonna have a lot of curt words throughout this).

Disclaimer: I am not at all an expert on fashion, these are just my thoughts and observations from studying fashion styles as part of my own artistic journey, so as always, take what I have to say with loads of salt. I also realize the irony that I am addressing the derivative nature of Lore Olympus when I, myself, am creating a derivative retelling of Lore Olympus.

Alright, enough small talk.

There's this general misconception in runway fashion that all those "impractical outfits" are meant to be worn by the average person, people such as myself who see these outfits and go "what the fuck do you mean Lady Gaga wore a dress made out of meat?!" When we see these crazy fits, our first impression is often "Why would anyone wear that?"

Well, because they aren't outfits. They're art pieces.

And not only are the outfits themselves art pieces, but the people wearing them are the canvases. These outfits aren't designed for just anyone to wear, especially not your average Joe, they're designed both with the artist's vision as well as the model in mind. A lot of thought, expression, cultural influences, and personal messaging is sewn into these designs.

Think about it this way, you couldn't take that aforementioned Gaga meat dress and put it on Taylor Swift. Not only would it not be physically tailored to her, but it wouldn't align with Swift's brand of music. Gaga, at the time of wearing that dress, was making a statement that came about from a collaborative effort between herself, the canvas, and her fashion designer, the artist. The meaning would be lost if you put Swift, Katy Perry, or any other musician into it, because the fact that Gaga is the one wearing it is part of that meaning.

What would happen if you did take the meat dress and put it on someone else? Well, that's how you get the controversial 2022 Met Gala when Kim Kardashian wore the sequin dress that Marilyn Monroe wore for JFK back in 1962.

Not a replica. Not a re-interpretation. The actual literal dress that Monroe once wore. This was a very bold - and in my opinion, reckless - move on Kim's part, because not only was she forcing herself into a dress not tailored to her (and yes, there has been deliberation on what damage was caused to the dress on account of this) but rather than working with a fashion designer to come up with a fresh new interpretation of the same concept, she just went "yeah I'm gonna wear the exact dress", in what many interpreted as a disrespectful power move to artificially put herself on the same level of prestige as Monroe. But she still isn't on that level of prestige and it speaks volumes that she thought carving out her own legacy would be as simple as just taking someone else's. The wolf wore the sheep's clothing with the intent to fool the sheep, but it was still a wolf.

But okay okay, WHAT does this have to do with Lore Olympus?

Well, Rachel released a new interview clip.

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A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

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I will say, these seem to have all been recorded at once probably when she was back at NYCC and they're probably going to be released daily leading up to the free release of the finale. Why they're hyping up the free version rather than hyping up the FastPass version that actually generates income, I have no clue, but I digress.

As always, the transcript is as follows:

"I really like looking at like, uh, vintage clothing and silhouettes that are... y'know, timeless. I mean, obviously it's really hard to future-proof work that's set in the modern setting because of course the times are gonna change, like, rapidly and there's not a lot you can do about it, but in terms of, like, fashion, there are just some silhouettes that are always going to look very classy, so... I try to put things that will not age. Like, I think there was a chapter recently where she [Persephone?] had like a very vintage Dior look which I really liked, um... and I feel like that will always look nice, like in 10 years time I'll be like, 'She looked good'. But there are some outfits which are more modern where I'm like, 'That probably won't look good in 10 years time'. But, y'know, we still got the inspired vintage Dior outfit so that's good, that's safe."

There isn't much to say about the actual transcribed text itself, but I do think it's very telling that Rachel tries to upsell her sense of fashion sense in LO when... much of it is just flat out derivative. At best she's often referencing real life people (mostly Hollywood celebrities) and at worst she's usually just grabbing stuff off Pinterest inspo boards without any consideration towards the influences or who she's putting into them.

That said, I do think she told on herself quite a bit in that final line of the interview clip - "that's good, that's safe."

I can understand wanting to play it safe in terms of knowing your limitations and not wanting to create something that would be dated in a few years.

But fashion... isn't about playing it safe. Because ultimately, how something ages in the long term isn't something that you, the artist, can control, and like many art mediums, you need to be focused on what to create next, not on how well your old art pieces still hold up in the present where they've been removed from their original context.

And I think this rings true for a lot of Lore Olympus, beyond just the fashion. It's all just a little too safe. We see it in the fashion, we see it in her uncommitted writing decisions, we see it in how often she's willing to retcon things just to write herself out of corners.

And I think that's really Rachel's biggest weakness as a creator at the end of the day. As much as she's tried to put on the persona of "screw you, I'll do what I want", her actions are always the opposite of what she says. She says that the fashion in LO is very vintage, but I can count on one hand how many outfits were actually vintage. The vast majority of them are a lot more modern, with a lot of Western influences, and sometimes with a boob window thrown in.

Case in point, the most recent outfit of Persephone wearing a practically-nude sparkle dress?

That's Rihanna's Swarovski dress that she wore in 2014.

Now, to Rachel's credit, she did find a way to personalize this to Persephone by removing the cap and giving her a rose-shaped bun, but the outfit itself is still just copied directly from Rihanna. Not only is there not a whole lot of Persephone's influence beyond her being literally made out of roses-

-but there isn't anything calling attention to the fact that this is a Greek myth retelling. And this isn't just a problem with the Swarovski dress callback, this is a problem EVERYWHERE.

And of course, that's not even touching on the fact that Hades and Hecate are forced to wear suits constantly. Because, according to Rachel, the fashion inspiration for Hades and Persephone only went as deep is "he's the groom and she's the bride"-

Rachel plays it safe by sticking purely to the inspirations she consumes from modern American media. The "modern twist" on the myths in LO is literally just "it's Greek myth but it's set in Los Angeles". She doesn't seem to want to put herself out there and actually consume Greek content any deeper than what she can find on Google, and it shows in how little Greek there is in this Greek myth comic.

There is, ironically, as I've been told by community members in ULO, a fashion collection called Persephone created by Paolo Sebastian, and in it you can see the actual Greek influences in these outfits far more than what you see in even Persephone's most visually stunning outfits:

These are dresses and yet Paolo uses them as an opportunity to tell the story of Persephone, somehow even more faithfully than an actual written adaption of The Hymn to Demeter. Because fashion, too, can tell a story - and Lore Olympus' fashion, like its writing, has no story to really tell, at least not in Rachel's hands when she's just pulling whatever she can find from what she treats as a pile of "stuff" on Google.

And that's not even getting into how the writing plays it safe much in the same way as the fashion influences and artistic choices. A good example is that S3 premiere sequence, in which Hades and Persephone are pulled away from each other so that... they can get washed down by their family and peers.

Rachel doesn't really do anything to re-contextualize this reference for the context and setting and circumstances of LO, she just goes "I liked that bath scene from Beauty and the Beast so I'm going to put it in LO."

And of course, it doesn't work as effectively as it did in Beauty and the Beast, because the whole original point of that scene was to showcase the big and scary Beast being washed down like a dog by his servants-turned-into-furniture while he stresses over how he's going to win over Belle. It's a comedic subversion, artistically by showing the ferocious beast reduced into a wet dog, but also on a narrative level by showing through his dialogue and actions how nervous he is to impress Belle because his own fate - as well as the fates of his servants - depend on her falling in love with him. He can't afford to mess this up.

But in LO, it's two naked people who we already know love each other and are committed to each other, we've already seen countless scenes of them being sweet on each other and showcasing that they're into each other, and by all accounts they've already gotten their happy ending, so it makes no sense for them to just be like "OMG SHE LIKES ME?? I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE LIKES ME!" "should I seduce him?!?!??" because this seems like a no-brainer and there's zero actual stakes riding on this the way that there was with Belle and the Beast. Plus the people washing them down aren't their servants who are in the same situation as them, they're random gods from the Pantheon whose affiliation ranges from "family" to "never even had a conversation before". One of the women washing down Persephone has literally never spoken a single line of dialogue to her; another one of them was literally dumped by her partner because he wanted Persephone more than her. Who are these people and why are they enthusiastically appearing to give her a bath? Why is Hades being given a scrub down by his own brother?

And that's really the most striking difference between inspired references and derivative ones. Undertale was a game created by a guy who was in love with retro games like Earthbound and Megaman. Stardew Valley was a game created by a guy who loved Harvest Moon and used to play it with his girlfriend. Content that's built on the foundation of another is natural and the basis of inspiration, but you have to go further with it than just going "yeah this thing existed and I'm taking it", otherwise you miss the purpose of why those inspirations were created the way they were.

And when you don't actually explore how you can re-interpret those influences and add your own voice into them, that's how you wind up writing like Rachel whose writing is about as inspired as a cheap character swap cutaway gag from Family Guy.

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Rachel's great at referencing, but that's not at all an impressive thing to do as proven by Peter Griffin. She's not at all re-contextualizing or expanding on what inspired her... but she still claims that she's exactly what she's doing because she calls Lore Olympus a "deconstruction". But her deconstruction only ever goes so far as "well what if Aphrodite left Ares for Hephaestus instead of the other way around?" and then just showing that question and never answering it or delivering on the potential of what that could cause. At best, she'll ask a "what if?" but then never actually show us the what if, it begins and ends with the question and the question itself doesn't provoke any thought deeper than "huh, yeah, that would be neat I guess." Episode's over, next scene. What if we showed that clip of Bill O'Reilly freaking out on set, but like, replaced it with Stewie Griffin and changed nothing else about it except for that? That's the joke, next scene.

I know, we're digressing hard off the fashion here, but the fashion itself is just a symptom of a much bigger problem that expands even beyond Lore Olympus - Rachel plays things way too safe. Even her responses in her interviews are painfully subdued, often resorting to the same tired answers that we've heard 823190589320 times before to the same hand-picked questions that are undoubtedly chosen ahead of time to ensure she doesn't have to answer anything too complicated. And when she does say "I have thoughts about xyz" she never actually... expresses her thoughts. She just says she does and then moves on without any further elaboration because she can't wholeheartedly commit to whatever thoughts she has going on.

Granted, I'm sure that part of that is owed to the fact that she might feel like she can't say anything while the critics are breathing down her neck. I can understand that. But it's gotten so chronic that it's now bleeding into the work itself and it's led to even more criticism of her work. Need I remind you that this is the same person who copy pasted the definition of "xenia" from a first result Google search into her comic instead of naturally writing it into the script:

Rachel played it so safe that she basically treated her own audience like kindergartners by explaining what a scene meant even after explaining it in the text:

As true as it is in fashion, writing stories and making art takes risks. That doesn't mean you have to completely throw caution to the wind, but if you don't take risks, you do yourself the disservice of writing something that can truly be called unique and special to you. If you don't use your influences wisely, if you don't analyze and re-analyze what's influenced you over the years, you're going to wind up losing a lot of subtext in those influences and missing out on the opportunity to add your own voice into the re-interpretation. Rachel does take a lot of risks in LO, but they're not calculated risks, they're not risks that actually have any meaning behind them, she's sort of just throwing stuff at a wall and seeing what sticks, and worst of all, when it doesn't stick, she herself doesn't stick to it, she backpedals, she cowers away from the decisions she's made.

Rachel expressed her worries about depicting fashion that would become aged, but Lore Olympus is already aged through her own inability to commit to her decisions, take risks, and find her voice. It's aged itself through its poor interpretations of the myth, it's aged itself through its reliance on Tumblr tropes that have already been replaced tenfold, and it's aged itself through Rachel herself riding off the initial innovation of creating Lore Olympus and then never continuing to challenge herself or raise the bar for herself.

It proves true the discussion around why Lore Olympus became popular - at the time, it was groundbreaking, drawn in a style that we hadn't seen much of before, with fresh new takes on the myth; now, in 2024, its 'takes' feel tired and half-baked, and its art style has become a corporate-scrubbed shell of what it once was. And yet, Rachel is still rewarded for it all the same, so settling for comfortable mediocrity has become the name of the game.

Rachel may be trying as hard as the Disney life action remakes and Kim Kardashian to put herself on the same pedestal as the greats of yesteryear simply by copying what they did, but in playing it this safe and refusing to find her own voice out of the voices that influenced her, Lore Olympus isn't timeless. It's soulless.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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romanoffsbish · 3 days

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I’m Fine 🙂 / Save Me 🙃

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Familial / Sisters)

Warnings: Angst w/Bittersweet Ending | Reader Dies | Black Widow / Red Room Canon | Addiction | “Cry for Help”

All she had left was the memory of you. | WC: 1,512

"Do you ever feel like you're all alone in this world?"

Natasha looked up from her laptop quick. "What?"

"Like, no matter how hard you try, no one will ever love or regard you in the same way you do them?"

——

Natasha tried to approach you gently, "Y/N." Yet she wasn't quick enough as you jumped back. "Shut up."

There was a fire in your eyes she hardly recognized, and she took a step back. Looking in your eyes hurt, because you were not the same little girl who used to pick flowers from the garden just for her hair and part of her took blame for that. "Don't try and pretend like you do." If you were a wine you'd be the most bitter. "I don't know why you even keep me around Natasha."

The redhead scoffed bitterly, "because I love you!" It stung to feel the burden in her words—you're hurting yourself just to spite her, but she hurt you first and with the way your mind was racing this made sense.

"Or is it because you feel guilty?" You countered, and hit it on the head as she whispered, "Y/N, please..."

Crushing her the same way she did you the day she left you behind, in a place built to destroy a dreamer like you, in the hands of a man set out to punish you for the mistakes of the woman you loved the most. Ouch.

"Do you think the world would miss me if I vanished?"

"Of cou—." You mindlessly cut her off, words tinged with vitriol, "Of course not. You're the one they'd hold the candlelight vigils for, you'll be on a mural and I'd be the one the stray cats would miss, because just like them I know what it's like to truly have no place."

"Have you been smoking pot?" It reeked the longer she stood closer to you. Then you all but confirmed it as you grew defensive. "Is that all you can ask Natasha?"

Natasha clicked her tongue. "Answer the question."

"Yes," you monotoned, "what does that change?"

"Everything." You grew rather frustrated, "but how?"

“You’re not making any sense,” she tried to reason but you laughed incredulously, “this is the first time in my entire life that I am making complete sense, Natalia.”

"I don't like it when you're like this, sestra."

"I'm always like this." Natasha sighed, "yeah..."

"Yeah?" Natasha nodded shamefully and you couldn't stop the sob from breaking. She hated you.

"Then I won't be anything to you, anymore."

Natasha shot up in a cold sweat, her wife beater tank top sticking to her skin, the words of your last fight still ringing in her head; a cry for help and she was useless.

"Fuck," she hiccuped, her knees pulled to her chest as she sobbed alongside the sky just outside the window. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and tried to force the pity she felt for herself away, the grief...

There were so many things she could have said; done.

I don't understand, but I want to; talk to me...

Had she ran after you, would it be different now?

Could've grabbed you by the arm. Don't go. Stay.

I love you more than you could ever know.

Instead she scoffed, 'at least I can finish my paperwork now,' and let you storm out the door without noticing the keys to her brand new jet black Porsche were gone.

Yelena still won't return her calls. Melina and Alexei are beside themselves in a grief harsher than her own. Though she internally wagers that her loss was the greatest, because you were her little widow first...

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

"Natty?" the blue haired girl looked at you with a wide grin, the innocence of the nickname you gave her was endearing and in the same breath, twisted. It was clear to her you didn't remember much of the before. You were four years her junior, so similar to Yelena, this life was honestly all you'd known. "Da, malen'kiy pauk?"

Natasha laughed just as soon as you giggled. It brought her joy to know, that for a while, you could be free of the harsh shackles that awaited you all back home.

"A little girl at school today told me about how in her family, when a person goes away, that they can become something else when they visit." Natasha nearly lost the joy on her face as you curiously approached death. In her mind the hope you held onto was futile, that when you shoot someone between the eyes, they are as good as gone, but she could never destroy you like that.

Instead, she gave life to your wonder, "What would you want to be then, a kitty?" You shook your head and blurted your answer easily, "malen'kiy pauk." The gaps in your teeth only made your smile more endearing, and the redhead opened her arms to you. You launched yourself into your sister's arms and gripped her tight.

"Then I could visit you," you mumbled against her shirt and the natural redhead tensed. The idea of you no longer existing felt unpleasant—her walls crumbled the moment you and Yelena entered her life but this was the first time she'd felt anything excruciating.

"Moya malen'kiy pauk," she chuckled softly so as to not cry instead, she placed a kiss to your cheek then hoped your childlike attention span would change the tune.

Then a familiar jingle sounded and you were scrambling into the house, shrieking for your mom.

Natasha shook her head and walked to the old man who knowingly parked out front of your house. He handed the redhead three ice creams, and a disk.

—————

You stood next to Natasha in the line for lunch, which was just a tasteless tray variety of essential nutrients. It was rule of thumb not to talk in line, but you were never one to follow the rules, and neither was Natasha.

"Are you scared of death?" Natasha frowned. "What?"

"I think a healthy fear for the end is fair, but I'm not losing sleep over the concept. Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm honestly not," you shrugged, stance indifferent but Natasha unfortunately believed you as you went on to say, "just wondering if I'm alone."

"Never with us," Yelena chimed in. "Death is an inevitability, just a matter of the when and how."

It wasn't hard to see to the fear in the blonde's eyes as she kept up her indifferent demeanor. Deep down, Natasha knew she was still that little girl from Ohio, who up until recently called fireflies, forest stars.

—

"I can't believe it," your tone clipped, the warmth you used to greet her with was gone. "I'll be back," she lied without realizing, but you could see it clearly. "Izhets."

(Liar)

"Y/N, I am going to end it once and for all," she hoped you could see the bigger picture, a promised freedom.

"Tozhe tupoy," you chuckled humorlessly. "There is no end, just more opportunities to build up defense."

(Dumb too)

Natasha fell for the American's words of ignorance.

"I love you," she said with certainty before she was one with the shadows, the last piece of your hope gone as it'd been years since you last caught sight of Lena.

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

A loud cry outside the purposely cracked window pulled her from her bittersweet thoughts of you...

Natasha stood beneath the tarp of your balcony, eyes downcast on a gorgeous white cat, paws soiled by the mud she trudged through with her three kittens. The redhead set a plate of food down for her then settled down beside her, towel in hand as she dried her babies.

The light of the moon cast over the kittens, reflecting off their varied fur patterns. A black one meowed, calling to her first among the litter, he hissed softly at the unfamiliar lift but settled fast as she began to dry his fur, pulling off grime and putting him to sleep.

The same occurred with the next boy cat, who was a gorgeous shade of gray, with faint swirls of orange.

Lastly, the smallest of the three, a gorgeous blend of white, brown and orange. She was the most vocal.

A grateful purr came from the mama cat when the redhead moved on to her paws, her eyes fluttered open at the unexpected contact, and when Natasha lifted her own gaze she gasped. With the light now on her face the color of her eyes was clear, a tear streamed down Nat's face without warning. The color and deep feeling of understanding behind them were just so, you.

"Oh my," a subdued laugh left her as she caught sight of something else, she scooped the feline into her lap, and placed a finger on her wet, pink nose in waiting. The blur of black transferred right on over and the woman smiled truly for the first time in eight months. "Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, moy malen'kiy pauk."

(Welcome home, my little spider)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n

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moon-river-me · 1 day

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Hii

A recommendation would be that the reader flirts with Spencer and he is very blushing because of it. The team would have fun with it haha.

Have a nice day!! 💖

ok so this is my first fanfic so i would really appreciate feedback(good and bad).

Ties.

fem! BAUreader, awkward spencer reid, sfw. I imagined early seasons spencer but it is non specified.

551 words.

“Did you know that wearing a tie can reduce blood flow to the brain by 7.5 percent?” Ties. That was how this exceedingly embarrassing rant began, you did that thing you do were you randomly compliment spencer; he loves it and hates it at the same time. Which for someone like himself, a logical man who values concrete answers, does not appreciate. Spencer loves problem solving, he has always been an amazing problem solver, when there was an equation, there was an answer, when there was a question, there was an answer, but the random comments that never fail to tinge his cheeks a rose hue, Spencer Reid did not have an answer for that.

By now Spencer realized he has been spitting useless facts about ties for over 3 minutes, which resulted in his face turning an even brighter shade of red.

“Pretty boy, all she said was nice tie,” Derek’s belly laugh could certainly be heard through the entire bullpen. Great, and even bigger crowd for his humiliation.

You giggle, keeping your eyes directly on his, “no no I love your facts spence, as long as you don’t give me a statistic on coffee and its correlation to some unheard-of disease, I will happily listen to you talk.” You add a subtle wink when you finish talking. Spencer’s bashful expression morphed into one of shock.

“You do?” The pure confusion in his voice added to your melodic laugh.

“Of course Spence, it’s the best part of working here.” While light-hearted, he picked up on the truth behind your words, making a shy grin appear on his face. He pushed his glasses up before realising his hair had now fallen Infront of his eyes.

“Here let me,” and before he knew it, your hand was directly in front of his eyes, pushing his hair out of his view. Spencer couldn’t take his gaze away from you. You keep the silent staring contest between you going. You know you will win; you always do.

“Boy genius, you look like a tomato” Penelope states are she strolls past to Derek’s desk.

“Red? I- I am not red its just hot in here.” His voice goes up at least an octave, his hand automatically travels to his cheeks.

“Okay keep telling yourself that Dr Reid,” you whisper the last part so only he could hear. You hand goes and taps his shoulder, keeping it there for a second longer than what could be considered normal, before moving to your desk, which coincidently is directly opposite his.

“I wasn’t lying by the way. Your tie is really nice. Suits you.” You state nonchalantly, as if that sentence didn’t make Spencers stomach swirl and form knots.

“I like yours too! Wait no.” You were not wearing a tie. Great. His utter screw up made you throw your head back laughing, increasing greatly when you looked at his horrified face.

“Thank you, Spence.” Your laugh slowly morphing back into your staple giggle, “maybe I will wear one tomorrow, and then you can mean it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer felt like a puddle on the floor, but the look of admiration in your face made that feeling run for the hills.

“Don’t apologise, it was very cute. you are very cute” You promise him, nodding your head to accentuate your point.

oh. oh.

a/n

ok so sorry this is so bad but feedback would be very very great thanks!! I have some Aaron Hotchner x readers' coming up <3

I did NOT proof read lets pray this makes sense :)

#criminal minds #bau team #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #mathew gray gubler #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #penelope garcia #first fanfic #please send requests #this is so bad #doctor spencer reid #girlblogging

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trans-androgyne · 2 days

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but what is WRONG about the statement “men and masculinity are privileged above women and femininity, so transmascs must be privileged above transfems”? that is sound logic, and it’s not disconnected from reality, because reality supports the idea that men and masculinity are privileged above women and femininity. even among trans people. that statement means “there is a particular scrutiny and struggle that women face that men do not”, not “men and masculine people aren’t ever oppressed and trans men don’t experience transphobia”. you seem to think that the issue is that not enough transfems/people are listening to what transmascs are saying about their own experiences, but when it comes to transfems talking about how their experiences with oppression are more severe, it’s perfectly ok for you to not listen to them?

Incorrect. The reality is that isn’t true for everyone, which is what we’ve been trying to demonstrate over and over. “Men and masculinity are privileged” when it’s cis men. Masculinity and identification with manhood is not encouraged above femininity for women or people believed to be women. Femininity for me would be gender conformity. Masculinity makes me transgender. And we are kicked in the teeth for it constantly, by both cis people and our own queer/trans community. All the worst stereotypes of both men and women are applied to us, as is true for trans women. If that supposedly common sense logic copy + pasted from narrow cisfeminist understandings were to be taken literally, transmascs would be privileged over cis women too gender-wise because masculinity is privileged over femininity, and we just Happen to experience transphobia with zero gendered oppression.

I am listening. I have been listening and agreeing and supporting for years and years and years. But other people speaking up made me realize my problems mattered too even if they didn’t fit into the narrative. And now this is my response. Now I want to be heard. I am telling you that my masculinity—my queer, my trans masculinity—is not fucking privileged above shit. I was nearly kicked out over it; I have been made to feel like I am ugly, worthless, and an inherently worse person for it; I am excluded from spaces I need resources from for it; I feel invisible in my community for it. Queer/trans masculinity gets you fucking harassed and assaulted — ask butches! Ask transmascs who don’t pass! Or the stealth ones who suddenly fail to, a nightmare situation for many of us. Look at the numbers for me — trans men and transmasc non-binary people have the highest rates of sexual assault of any gender category. It can and does happen to many due to being transmasc (including someone I know personally) even sometimes taking the route of corrective rape with the intention of “detransitioning” them. I feel less safe since I’ve started transitioning, not more. Before, I wondered if I was being stared at since I was pretty and had long hair. I would get catcalled. It felt gross. Now I wonder if I’m being stared at because I’m visibly queer. I still get catcalled. I feel less gross and more afraid.

We also experience things transfems and cis women don’t! “There is a particular scrutiny and struggle that trans men and mascs face that other people (typically) do not” that’s precisely what I have been trying to convey. And that’s exactly what our tag is full of. The belief that our oppression is “less severe” is mistaken, you just haven’t heard our voices enough. It is the result of our historical and compounding invisibility. We are speaking up and begging you to listen.

#transandrophobia #ask #mine #long post #intracommunity issues tag #resource #SA tw #rape tw

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myguumi · 3 days

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sweet disaster!

synopsis; you attempt to bake for your boyfriend, but it doesnt exactly go as planned..

notes - gn!reader x satoru gojo :) "hun" used as a pet name once. i am genuinely SO ANXIOUS to post this. if u like it pls reblog or comment or whatever.. if u dont like it just come to my house and shoot me tbh

you had always known your boyfriend liked sweet things. the first time you had met satoru, he was munching on some sort of candy. his friends, students, everyone knew. so.. you wanted to try and be a good partner; attempting to bake something for him.

lord now knows you're terrible at baking, and you won't try again.

because it's your fourth try at baking cookies for him, and so far you've failed by forgetting the flour, not placing them further away on the pan causing them to stick together, burning them- you've done everything you could to fuck up these cookies.

you could just watch a tutorial. easy enough, right? well you've watched the same video over and over again, having the urge to punch your phone at the random males voice instructing you for what feels like the tenth time. you could call megumi? he could help. maybe.

a click at the door makes you freeze at the garbage can, having just thrown out your fourth- fifth batch of cookies? you've lost count. you hurriedly shut the garbage, trying to clean up the kitchen and yourself the most you can in only a few seconds, which isn't a lot, but why not try?

satoru shuffles in, looking around a bit for you, hearing you moving around and clinking stuff in the kitchen. "..hun, what're you doing?" he asks, walking over to the kitchen and staring you down as you stand next to the garbage, a complete mess, probably. you haven't had time to look at yourself, just an assumption from the way he's staring down at you and obviously trying not to laugh.

"..nothing at all!" you say, looking over at your boyfriend with a bubbly smile on your face to attempt to distract him from whatever you just threw out, and the burning smell coursing around the house. "you sure?" he questions, tilting his head a bit to the side. you nod, looking into his eyes- well, blindfold- with that same smile on your face. satoru giggles a bit at you, walking over to you.

"two questions. one, why does it smell like a house fire in here? and two, why are you trying so desperately to hide the trash?" he asks, looking down at you. you look up at him. "tried to bake for you, obviously didn't go as planned," you sigh. "stupid dude who's tutorial i was watching didn't make any sense." satoru lets out a small laugh, smiling down at you with that cheeky grin of his.

"you don't gotta bake me anything, you're enough yourself. plus, i don't want you burning down the house.." he mumbles, making you softly punch his arm. "in all seriousness tho, you could've called megumi. he's a pretty good baker, somewhat good of a cook. if you wanna learn how to bake, give him a call."

you nod, still smiling up at him. he leans down and gives you a small peck on the lips, leaning back up to stare back down at you. "please don't try baking again without someone else. it smelled like there was a fire, i thought you burned the house down. smelled like it, at least." satoru says, still looking down at you. you pout up at him, flicking his forehead.

made by myguumi; please dont alter my work or try and post as your own. reblogs are appreciated, but claiming as your own is not.

@venzlenes

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #jujustu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #i dont think ive ever added this many tags saying gojo ever #jjk x reader #x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff

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jrow · 1 day

Text

May Prompts (29)

Day 28 here. Start from the beginning here.

Hero

John Watson is nothing short of a hero.

Doctor. Writer. Veteran.

He will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life.

He is not a hero.

Junkie. Sociopath. Freak.

That John would choose him for a friend is unfathomable. That John could want more, entirely out of the realm of possibility.

It does not compute. It cannot have happened.

Currently, John is looking at him, concern etched on his features.

“Are you okay, Sherlock? You fainted.”

“No, that doesn’t seem right.”

The worry on John’s face morphs into a smile. “Who’s the doctor here?”

He furrows his brow. Perhaps he did faint. Perhaps he hit his head. Perhaps that’s why he hallucinated the conversation with John. But then he sees the gift. “You gave me a Yamaha SV250. And a case decorated with Rosie’s handprint.”

“Err … yes? I mean yes, I did.”

“That doesn’t seem right. Because that means you want to move back. With Rosie.”

The smile gets bigger. “Yes.”

“And this would entail sleeping in my bed. With me. Presumably.”

“Presumably.” And now John looks like the cat that got the canary.

“And I fainted?”

“When I tell everyone the story later, I may use the term swoon.”

His eyes snap to John’s. “You want to tell everyone?”

John’s smile softens. “Yeah, quite badly, actually. I want to move in. I want to sleep in your bed. And I want to tell everyone. Not that anyone will be all that surprised.”

None of this makes sense. “But you … you are … you’re a war hero!” he sputters.

John knits his brow. “I don’t think that’s true and I don’t see how it’d be relevant even if it was.”

“Of course it’s relevant!” he says, sitting up. “War heroes don’t raise families with sociopaths!”

John sighs fondly, reaching out and touching his arm. “It’s a good thing you aren’t a sociopath then.” A pause. “You know, I was just thinking how beautiful protagonists don’t usually end up with minor side characters.”

He scoffs. John can be such a fool sometimes. “I am the not the protagonist, John. I wasn’t even in the story until you came along.”

John chuckles and stands, before reaching out a hand to help him up. “ Well, I am certainly not the protagonist. So who does that leave?”

They both reflexively look up when they hear the sound of tiny feet hitting the ground. A couple seconds later comes the loud squeak of the upstairs door.

“Lock, play!” Rosie yells at the top of her lungs. The speed at which that girl can go from fast asleep to boundless energy is staggering.

John sighs and looks at his watch. “Right on schedule, I suppose. Busy day means short nap.”

“You go lie down, I am the one being summoned,” he says. Despite his fainting/swooning a moment ago, John is the one who needs to rest. He coughs and feels heat rising in his cheeks. “Lie down in … our bed?”

John looks at him with an expression that can only be described as adoration. “Okay, but can I make one request before you go see to the princess upstairs?”

He nods, slowly. Fairly certain, and fairly terrified, of what’s coming.

“Can I kiss you now?”

He nods again. And then, without hesitation, John kisses him. It’s slow and soft and like he’s something precious. And it is terrifying, but in the best possible way.

He’s still not 100% sure this isn’t a hallucination.

He closes his eyes and returns the kiss.

John Watson is nothing short of a hero.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

#johnlock #wip #may prompts 2024 #just two more days!

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impala-dreamer · 20 hours

Text

Meet Me At The Beach

A Supernatural Story

~ Texting and emails can feel so impersonal. There's nothing quite like exchanging tangible, handwritten letters with someone you love...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

4,025 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst. SFW.

A/N: This is for @jacklesversebingo "Writing Letters To Each Other" was the prompt. I hope you enjoy...

June 2

Dear Dean,

This feels so weird. Do people really write letters anymore? Am I going to get strange looks at the post office when I go to buy a stamp? Will they even know what to do with this tiny envelope and folded piece of loose-leaf paper? I almost don’t know how to write anymore. My script looks kinda like chicken scratch, huh? Hopefully it’ll get better. It is weird not typing though. But emails just seem like work. Impersonal, ya know? Besides, it gives us something to look forward to when we hit the mailbox. Nice to open something that’s not a delinquent credit card bill, huh?

Speaking of which- how the fuck do you do it? I just got another card canceled. My credit is non-existent. Fuck, I need to get a job. Could you imagine me in an office? High heels and panty hose and my hair tucked into a neat, matronly bun? I shudder to think!

OK, this is weird. I just wanted to write “LOL” but it’s not an email. Or a text. Why are we doing this again? Oh, yeah, see above.

Anyhoo- - - - I don’t even know what to say! Umm… I’m in New Orleans for a bit. Not working, just hanging out. My friend Emily from high school tracked me down online and we’ve been chatty. She’s in a band. They’re not bad. Not great, but not bad. So yeah, I took a drive down to see a show and I’m just lingering. Drinking too much, sleeping past noon. It’s fun. Nice little vacation.

Which - ahem - you should be taking. When are you gonna get your ass out of that dusty old bunker and stick your toes in the sand? I already told you I’d meet you in Pensacola with sunscreen and a cooler of beer. You know you want to. Or are you just scared to show off your ugly toes in flip flops? Your boots might actually cry if you ever took them off, so I guess it’s just as well.

Hey, do you remember that night in Richmond when it started pouring and your boots sank into the mud puddle? God, that was a mess. We were soaked to the bone. Nice way to warm up, though - cuddled in the back of the Impala. I miss that car. Sometimes, I think I can hear it at night when the world is quiet and the wind is still. It’s like the engine roars in the back of my mind and I start thinking about all our adventures, all the time we spent driving into the sunset.

I miss you. Is that wrong? I probably shouldn’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t tell you that I do. But I do. I miss you so bad sometimes that it hurts. Like someone has punched me right in the chest. Maybe we can end up in the same town soon. Grab some tacos and sit on the hood. Make a mess. I’d like that.

OK, before I get too emotional and start asking you to run away with me, I think I’ll end this ranting scribble of horrid handwriting.

Write me back soon.

Love, Y/N

June 21

Y/N-

Your handwriting does not look like chicken scratch. I like it. Mine is like some toddler just learning his letters. Whatever. I never learned that fancy shit. I can sign my name and make a grocery list. That’s all I need.

This is weird, yeah. But it’s kinda nice. Feels more… like you’re here. Does that make sense? Like seeing your handwriting, the dents in the paper- I don’t know. Just feels more real. Like you’re not just some computer talking back at me. Also there’s something strange about answering questions weeks later. I meant to write this sooner, but I got a little distracted. There was a Kung Fu marathon on and I just lost track of time. Too much pizza, not enough Carradine. Ya know? You know.

Remember that horrible motel in Raleigh when we both caught that nasty stomach bug and stayed up all night watching old tv shows? Saltines and Little House. I’ll never forget it. You were so sick that day. Shit, I was sure I was gonna end up taking you to the hospital. Sure, I was puking too, but you looked like death. I hated that. Hated that I couldn’t help you, make you feel better. I did cook up a mean chicken noodle soup though, didn’t I? Not that it stayed down for long.

Thank god for that yellow Gatorade. And yes- it’s fucking yellow. Not green.

Anyway- I miss you too. I try not to, I really do. Not all the time, no offense, but sometimes I’m just fucking insane with shit going on. But at night, especially, I miss having you beside me. I miss rolling over and seeing you there, or hearing you snore. I miss feeling your freezing feet under the blanket. I don’t know, I just-

What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m the biggest piece of shit in the universe. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.

Can’t change the past. Just gotta move on.

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump that all out in a letter. I almost ripped this all up and started over. I actually let it sit for a day before I came back to it. But, fuck it- we said we were gonna write to each other and be honest, and here I am, being honest.

Fuck, I’m so tired. That kinda tired when sleeping for ten days wouldn’t even put a dent in it. Yeah, OK, so things are getting a little better. Chuck’s gone for good this time. Jack’s got things back in place, even made a few improvements. Sam’s- well, he’s Sam. He’s fine, doing his thing. The dog is- did I tell you we have a dog now? Yeah, I know. Me and a dog- yeah right. But we do. Miracle. He’s a good boy. I’ll send you a picture soon.

Never thought I could slow down like this. Feels like for the first time we can just - work. I mean, I’m never gonna give up hunting, not totally, but- feels like I could just ease back a bit. Been looking at some jobs in town- nothing crazy, fixing engines and stuff like that. Don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty good with my hands.

Did you blush?

You did.

OK. I guess- that’s it for now. I have no fucking idea how to end this so - bye?

~ Dean

P.S. I’ll meet you at the beach soon. I promise.

Fifteenth of July

To Whom It May Concern:

Re: Beach Vacation

Dear Mr. Winchester,

I am very pleased to hear that you are agreeable to meeting me at the beach. It should be delightful fun to run through the surf and hunt for sea glass with you.

Oh shit! Do you remember that new age shop in… where the fuck was that? With the sea glass necklaces in the window that I said were so pretty and the witch inside said they were blessed to give the wearer riches or some shit like that. Where was that? Who knows.

Feels like we’ve been all over the world together. Well, this country at least. Lord knows I could never get you on an airplane. If only you could drive to Paris. Did I ever tell you about my trip to France? God, it was beautiful. Rained the whole time, but it was this beautiful, warm spring rain that made everything smell like dust and petals. Not rose petals, but those little white ones that grow on trees, ya know? It was so beautiful. Fuck it. I’m taking you one day. You need to see more than the dash of your car and the backroads of America. Time to travel!

Speaking of- I’m glad you’re slowing down a bit. I know that won’t be easy for you but if you think about it, you’ve spent the last forty years running from problem to problem like a damned bomb-sniffing dog.

A DOG?! Dean Winchester, I never thought the day would come. I can’t wait to see a picture. Don’t forget it next time.

I think you’d be a great mechanic. It was always very hot seeing you covered in sweat and grease especially if you had those damned coveralls on. I mean… what? I don’t think about you like that anymore, you know. It’s over and done with and we’re just friends. We are friends, aren’t we? Maybe something more than friends, I guess. Ex lovers? Ew. I hate that word. Lovers. So gross. Well, then what are we? Just two souls swimming in a fish bowl…

Year after year. Day after day. Do you know that I put nearly a hundred thousand miles on my poor truck this year? Back and forth, up and down the country. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting it is. Fun, but exhausting. Rewarding, but not. I wonder how many people remember me after I leave? Does that family in New Haven think about me whenever they go into the basement and it’s no longer haunted? Is there a photo of me on a fridge in Wilmington where I saved that guy’s fiance from the vamp nest? Probably not. I’m sure people remember you - The Great Dean Winchester. The sexy hunter with the green eyes and the giant black car. You’re hard to forget. Also, you hang out with a giant. Tell Sam I said hi.

I do remember that puke fest! And it’s green. It’s literally neon green. Fight me.

We could probably write a book, you and me. ‘Winchester & Y/L/N Do America’. It’s a coffee table book with pictures of random diner signs and gas station bathrooms. Maybe a list of the country’s best french fry places. Shit like that. Let’s do it. I’ll call my literary agent in the morning. Ha!

SPARTA!! That’s where that damned sea glass shop was. It just hit me! Stupid brain. I swear, I’ve been hit in the head way too many times. Broken too many bones. I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you know that my left knee pops whenever I stand up now? Like, how old am I?? I can’t stand it. I need a month at a spa somewhere in the desert. That’d be nice.

Damnit. I just got a call from Vinnie Alverez. Do you know him? Hunter out of Pittsburg. Anyway- he needs help on a job. Guess I’ll cut this letter short. Hopefully I’ll find a box to drop this in on the way to PA!

Miss you.

Sincerely yours,

Y/N

P.S. - I do forgive you, Dean. Of course I do. Things were just too hard back then. Life didn’t want to cooperate for us. It’s not your fault. Not my fault. It just was. Please don’t carry that guilt in your heart. You deserve better than that.

August 2

Dear Y/N-

You’re a real character, you know that? Love the corporate letter. I’m in for the book by the way. Could be awesome. We do need a full chapter on onion rings though. Make a note.

I heard about your hunt in Pittsburgh. Came through the grapevine that you kicked some serious wolf ass. Nice job, kid. Hope you’re being careful. I know how bullheaded and impulsive you can get when you’re in the zone. Just watch your back, OK? Promise me. Last thing I wanna hear is that you got your heart clawed out or you’re walking around with a demon in your ass.

Demons. Haven’t seen so many running around lately. Queen Rowena’s been keeping them in check. So fucking weird that she’s in charge now. Not that I’m surprised- she’s a badass bitch. If I had a nickel for every ruler of hell I was friends with, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The kids still say that, don’t they? See, I’m not old. I keep up with pop culture and shit. Started watching the tik toks. I still don’t get it, but I like the woodturning stuff. Thinking about taking up whittling. Maybe carve you a keychain so you stop losing them.

I got a call for a job interview. Chickened out though. I don’t know if I’m ready to start all that, ya know? Start a real life in the real world- just seems- I don’t know, scary. Yeah, I’ve faced every deadly thing on this and other worlds but the idea of getting a 9 to 5 civilian job scares me. I’m some kinda fucked up, huh?

I think about it a lot though. Getting a job, finding a little house somewhere, settling down. A little fenced in yard so Miracle can run around and dig up dirt. Might put a rocking chair on the porch and watch the clouds, some shit like that. Would you come visit me in my Barbie dream house? I’ll cook you breakfast every morning and you can rub my feet at night. Real cozy couple stuff.

OK, so maybe I’m thinking about you more and more these days. Maybe I’m regretting leaving. Maybe I’m just an idiot daydreaming about meeting you somewhere in the middle and sweeping you off your feet. One of those running hugs that hurts when you collide but ends in a kiss that makes everything feel better. I’m a real romantic fuck, huh? I was digging through my drawers yesterday and I found a pair of your socks. Those tiny ones that barely covered your ankle. I don’t know why they were stuffed in the back of the dresser, but there they were. Dingy white socks with the pink threads on the toes. I’ll bring them to the beach when we meet up.

Oh, Sam says hi and he hopes you’re good and he wants you to shoot him a text when you can. You can do what you want, but you better not mail him a letter. That’s just for me. God, my hand is cramping up. I’m not used to this. Oh, and you’re not alone. My knee creaks like a haunted house when I go up stairs now. And my right wrist pops, and my neck makes this weird almost squeaking sound, and my ass- well, I could go on, but just know you’re not alone. Kinda weird to think that we lived long enough to be this old, ain’t it? I never thought I’d live to be thirty and here I am staring down 42. Forty Fucking Two. Can you believe that shit? Goddamnit I got old. Let’s go find a nursing home together. Maybe we can get a double room- or a king sized bed?

Think about it. We could be cranky old people together. Losing our memories and shuffling around with walkers and shit. You’d look cute with white hair. And fuck, my beard’s already going gray. Should I grow out my beard?

Write back soon. I really like seeing your letters in the box.

Dean x

My dearest Dean Winchester, it is with great happiness that I write this letter to you and I do hope that it finds you well and happy and all good things and I can’t keep this formal shit up. Ha!

Anyway- but yeah, things are good. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I was on a little trip around the continent. Headed up to Montreal for a bit. Killed some nasties, salted some bones, generally fucked around. My beloved truck crapped out in Burlington, Vermont, so I had to hang out there for a while and gather my resources to get a new vehicle. I think you’d like her. Green Ford Explorer from ‘94. OK, she’s not as sexy as the Impala, but she gets me where I need to go. Which, apparently, was Maine! I met up with some friends in Greenville. Cute little town full of witchcraft. So much fun. Also had a lobster roll on a pier… I swear to god, they plucked this thing right out of the water and slapped it on a buttered roll. You’d LOVE it. I’m gonna take you there someday.

Speaking of- We need to make plans for Florida. I picked up a little bikini on my travels and I think I really need to show it off. Maybe you could be my bodyguard and keep the creeps away while I’m sunbathing? To repay you for your services, I’ll gladly let you take it off me at night…

Oh, and I’ve thought about this extensively, and I believe that you should, in fact, grow your beard out. Like, full on, bushy lumberjack beard. I can’t wait to see all that gray. You know I have a thing for older men… and you’ll always be older than me, Dean Winchester and don’t you forget it!

And for your information, I don’t lose my keys anymore! I got one of those… apple taggy things. Now I know where they are at all times. Can’t find my phone to find them sometimes, but that’s another issue.

Two weeks later, I’m picking up my pen again. Sorry this is taking forever. Things are stupid busy. I wish I could just… put this fucking gun down and go live with you on a farm somewhere. Not a working farm, we wouldn’t keep pigs or anything because gross, but a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Big white house with a giant tree in the yard and a tire swing and a picket fence and a kid chasing the dog around and -

Shit. Do you ever think about it? I do. A lot. More than I’d like to and it fucking cuts me up inside every time. I know we could never have kept it, and life- I mean- it just wasn’t meant to be. But I do think about it sometimes. Imagine if we’d just walked away from the life and tried to be a family? Impossible, I know. Maybe in another life.

Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Ignore me. I haven’t slept in a while and I just

I want to see you. Can we meet somewhere? Wherever you want. I’ll come to you.

~ Y/N

Dear Dean,

This is my second attempt at writing this. Crumpled up the first one because I’m an idiot. Am I an idiot? Did I piss you off with the last letter? I honestly didn’t mean to. I just- we said we’d be honest, and you’ve been so open in your letters that I thought it was ok to talk about, but I guess not. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dug that stuff up.

I’m so tired and stressed and I miss you so much. Since we’ve been writing back and forth it’s almost like I can’t stop thinking about you. I get so fucking excited to check the mail whenever I roll back into town. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s like Christmas every time I see your handwriting in my box. Remember the time you wrote your name on my thigh in Sharpie? That stayed on for like a week. I shoulda gotten it inked on. That’d be something, huh? Branded by a Winchester.

Fuck, Dean, I really hope you’re not mad at me. I really want to call you, but we said we wouldn’t. Just write me back, please.

I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week. Got turned onto a haunting up in Abilene. Maybe we can meet on the road somewhere? Please?

Hey, did you know there’s a Hunter, Kansas? Wonder why they didn’t build the bunker there. I don’t know, made me laugh when I was looking at the map.

Anyway- Please write me back. Or call. Or text. Or send a damned pigeon with a tiny letter taped to its foot. I don’t care, how, just do it please. Even if you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk anymore, I get it. But please. Just let me know, OK?

I’m sorry.

Love, Y/N

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know you and my brother were writing to each other like this, but I found your last few letters to him in his private P.O. Box. I didn’t even know he had one of his own, but I guess we all keep secrets from those we love. I hope you don’t mind that I read your letters. Not all of them, but the last two that came through. Please know that Dean would have responded if he could have, I know he would have. He talked about you a lot recently. Said you two were in contact and that he was hoping to find some time to meet you for a vacation. I don’t know where you guys were planning on going, but I found a new Hawiian shirt in his closet with the tags still on it.

I know we spoke on the phone after he passed, but I wanted to send this to you. I was cleaning up his stuff and found his notepad. Looks like he’d started a letter before we left for Canton. I think he’d want you to have it.

I’m closing up the Bunker soon. I don’t really know where I’ll go, but I can’t be here right now. Not without my brother.

I’ll always be around if you need anything or want to talk. I’ll always answer the phone for you, Y/N.

Be well,

Sam Winchester

Y/N/N,

If I could take it back I would. Every fucking word. I think about it now and I know we made the wrong choice. I know we could have made it work if we tried. But we are both total fuck ups who can’t be normal. We just can’t.

Forgive me

That’s dog slobber up there, not tears. Just fyi. Definitely not tears. I think I might have been a little drunk when I started writing and then well-

Anyway- Maine sounds awesome. We were there once but no time for lobster rolls. Guess I missed out.

Not much to report since the last letter. Been kinda quiet here. But… I did apply for a job. Well, I filled out the application. Well, I started filling it out. It’s actually underneath this notepad right now. I’ll get to it. I will. I just need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe a pinch… wink wink

I absolutely think we need to get together. Pick some place stupid like the World’s Largest Frying Pan or South of The Border. I’ll meet you. Just say when.

Guess this letter will take a little longer to finish. We’re leaving for Ohio in a little bit. There’s a buncha vampire dicks making a mess. Gonna take ‘em to batting practice. Show them my machete swing. I’ll give a full report when we’re back home

Dean Dean,

I made it to the beach. It’s hot, like stupid hot. Had to stand in the water just to keep my toes from burning. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of something to say, but all I can say is I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here with me. I wish things had been different. I wish and wish and wish.

If I throw this into the ocean will it get to you somehow or will my words just wash away like the sand?

I’ll see you again someday. I hope so, anyway. Let’s just pretend I’m destined for Heaven. I know you’re up there. You were too good not to be. You sacrificed so much, cared so much, saved so many people. I know you made it. If there’s any mercy in this universe, I’ll be up there someday too. Just don’t have too much fun without me.

I love you, Dean. Always.

Y/N

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean/reader #sfw

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 1 day

Text

05/28-29/2024 Daily OFMD BTS

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Samba Schutte BTS; Nathan Foad; Vico Ortiz; Dominic Burgess; Tell Tale Awards; Upcoming Fuckeries; Watch party reminders; Schadenfreude; Fan Spotlight; MerMay; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika.

== Rhys Darby ==

To 29 And Beyond is coming up fast and our dear Captain wanted to remind everyone that he'll be there! For tickets and more info, visit To29AndBeyond.com

Source: Rhys Darby's IG Stories

== Samba Schutte ==

More Season 2 BTS from the man who deserves all the things -- Samba Schutte!

Video 1: Roach Bobbing for Plums

Video 2: Fang + Samba Dance

== Nathan Foad ==

Source: Nathan Foad's Instagram Stories

== VIco Ortiz ==

Vico is going to be back at Them Fatale price this June 21st!

Source: Them Fatale's Instagram

Vico also wanted to send out the following resources for those looking to help with the situation in Gaza. Operation Olive Branch

Source: Vico Ortiz' Instagram Stories

== Dominic Burgess ==

Our precious Jeffrey Fettering is out and about in Los Angelos visiting the Queen Mary!

Source: Dominic Burgess' Twitter

= Reminder to Vote =

Our dear crewmates over at @saveofmdcrewmates put together a helpful guide for the Tell-Tale TV Awards! They've listed the queer shows related to OFMD in someway and are reminding us you can vote up to 3 times per category! Vote here.

Source: SaveOFMD Crew Instagram

More Under The Cut! Long Post is Long

== Watch Party Reminders ==

Our Flag Means Death Season 2 Dates: May 28-31 Times: 3:30 pm PT / 6:30pm ET / 11:30 pm BST Need access? We're doing a WP on the RhysDarbyFaction Discord server, feel free to hit me up on tumblr @gentlebeardsbarngrill or @ aspirantabby42 on Twitter for access.

== Upcoming Fuckeries ==

As you all have seen around, there's a fuckery planned for June 3rd! Which is approaching fast! Our friend @patchworkpiratebear made a nice graphic to remind us. Mark the date on your calendars if you want to join the fuckery!

Source: PatchworkPirateBear's Tumblr

== Schadenfreude ==

Just a nice ending to the day. June 3rd's shareholders meeting is coming fast WBD.

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

More Cast cards tonight! Thank you @melvisik! The first, George Maunsell is listed as "Valet" in 'Calypso's Birthday' and Zach Douglas "is "Roderick," aka the Bluecoat rudely reading the love letter meant for Ed"

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

== Mermay ==

= Snejpowa =

Our friendly neighbourhood @snejpowa is back with another MerMay prompt, this time featuring the Republic of Pirates! I have to say, the Instagram liked by is a nice touch :P.

Day 29: Republic of Pirates

= Blueberreads =

Our fantastic friend @blueberreads has done it again with a Stede portrait this time! I am blown away by the detail of the hair and shirt. Just lovely!

Day 29: Republic of Pirates

= Eros The Artist =

Our darling @erostheartist has another Mermay submission for us-- to learn more about this prompt visit the link below! Day 24: Murder's a Natural Cause

= Spencer Does Artt =

Another Mermay day for @ SpencerDoesArtt on instagram! This time Day 29 is Republic of Pirates and they were kind enough to give us our favorite folks all gathered around.

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= Stjernegaupe =

More lovely vector art from @stjernegaupe for mermay! Ricky almost looks innocent in that first one! (Almost)

Day 13: Road to Moscow

Day 14: Orange

Day 15: Blind Man's Cove

Day 16: Kraken

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies. It's Wednesday here which means we're half way through the week. I hope it's treated you kindly. We could all use a little extra kindness these days. I'm not sure the following statements are going to make much sense, so apologies if not.

Tonight I wanted to mention a few things about changes. Sometimes change is something we can predict, and sometimes it hits us without warning.

Sometimes change makes things better for us and sometimes it can make things worse.

Sometimes change is the hardest thing in the world to do, and yet somehow the most important.

Change could be anything, a change in routine, in friends, in location, in attitude, in jobs, in weather, in boundaries-- it can be so very many things. Sometimes, the places we are, the people we're with, the jobs we have, the patterns we practice just aren't going to suit us forever. We as human beings are ever changing, ever evolving, ever moving. Situations and life styles we may have embraced previously may no longer serve us, and you know what?

That's okay.

Chang is part of the fun and wonder of life. Every day we learn new things about ourselves, and in doing so we evolve. This is a good thing, lovelies, you dont have to hate or love the things that came before or the things that come after-- you can look at where you are, where you want to be and where you've been and appreciate what came with those changes. Maybe you were in a terrible situation before, and now you're only in a mildly better one. Maybe you're worse off than before, but because of that you know exactly what you need/want to become.

Change can be a scary, unpredictable catalyst, but it can also be a very important tool that helps us reach the places we want to go. Sometimes changes take us back rather than forward, and sometimes they jump us ahead eons. Both are valid, and both are part of this life, and experiences we need to have. Don't be afraid of change lovelies, there's always more around the corner. It'll work itself out-- I know it will, because I know you're strong enough to brave it. You are so very wonderful and lovely the way you are, and you'll be wonderful and lovely when you're something new. Don't forget that. Rest up, new day tomorrow as always. I'm so glad you're still here with us.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is Floor Antics! Gifs courtesy of the brilliant @mxmollusca and @soapbubbles511!

#ofmd daily recap #ofmd #samba schutte #vico ortiz #nathan foad #our flag means death #ofmd bts #rhys darby #save ofmd #david fane #dominic burgess #adopt our crew #sofmd crew

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bqstqnbruin · 3 days

Text

Forget About Us

Hello this is my first fic in like almost 6 months inspired by Forget About Us by Perrie Edwards

Thanks to my loves @nicohischier @assmanselke and @matthewtkachuk for yelling at me and letting me yell about this fic :)

Summary: Carson meets Jack, Jack falls for Carson, Carson does what she wants.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST

Flashbacks are in italics. Also, I swear I read through this more than once but there might be errors unintentionally 😬

_________________________________________

Looking up into the stands, every game he plays in this city, he’s looking for her. He had been doing it for the past few years, always expecting to see her.

___________________________

“Can you stop pouting? We’re going to go out after the game,” Morgan begs.

“I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be here or anywhere else besides my bed.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, sitting down in her seat. “Carson, you never go out.”

“Because I never want to go out,” she repeats. “I don’t have the money to go out.”

“The tickets were free from my job and I told you I would pay for your drinks tonight.”

“I don’t feel good,” Carson whines, knowing that it still wouldn’t be enough.

“You’re fine.”

“I’m on my period.”

“So am I, what’s your point?”

“Your period doesn’t make you double over in pain for three days.”

“This is the fourth day of your period when you have told me you always feel fine. And your period has been regular since you were fifteen when you went on birth control.”

“I don’t like that you know that.”

“Then maybe don’t tell me the same thing like a broken record every month?” Carson continues to pout, even though her friend is right. “Do you really not want to be here? We can leave after the first period if you really aren’t having fun. But, you do keep telling me you’ve been wanting to come to a game since we moved here.”

“No,” she drags out. “I just had a bad day at work.”

“What happened?”

The teams start coming out onto the ice for warm-ups, everyone booing the away team. It made no sense. They weren’t even actual rivals. The other team, from Carson’s understanding, was so inconsequential that they shouldn’t even matter. But who was she to argue?

“Anthony came by work today.”

“Anthony? Like Anthony, your ex, Anthony?”

“No, Anthony Michael Hall from The Breakfast Club.”

“What did he say?”

She and Morgan had this same conversation every week. “He wants to get back together.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?”

“I’m grumpy, not stupid.”

Morgan sighs. Anthony kept showing up at the cafe Carson worked at between classes to ask for her back for the last month. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that they wanted wildly different things in their lives and that they weren’t going to work. Carson wanted to get her JD and leave New Jersey for good. She was tired of the debate over whether or not the central part of the state existed, if it was called Taylor Ham or Pork Roll, and which beach down the shore was the best. She wanted out as soon as possible, and Anthony wanted to stay here and settle down. He wanted someone who wanted to be at home with the kids, which Carson really didn’t want. The only way she could think about staying in New Jersey was if her partner wanted everything else she wanted. Whoever she ended up with had to be everything else to her. Anthony wasn’t it.

Morgan slowly forms a smile on her face, one that immediately makes Carson panic. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“Who said I’m going to do something that you’ll hate?”

“Every past action that you’ve done without talking to me about it first says you’re going to do something I’m going to end up hating.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, pulling out her wallet and handing Carson her debit card. “Here, you go get us beer and pizza so that way you don’t have to see what I’m about to do.” Carson sits there, Morgan shoving the card into her hands. “Go.”

Both of them get up from their seats, Carson feeling a sense of panic as she watches her roommate go down to the ice while typing furiously on her phone. Carson tries to get back to their seats as fast as she can, worried about what antics she was about to be dragged into. She wanted to be home early that night so she could start studying for one of her exams that week. She did not have time to do whatever it was that Morgan was planning to do.

“Here,” Morgan hands her something as she sits back down, Carson still trying to figure out how to balance two overflowing drinks and two slices of pizza larger than her own head. “I got this for you.”

“You got me a puck?”

“Yes.”

“Ok?”

“You could say thank you.”

“Thank you for a piece of rubber that could probably break a bone if you get hit with it hard enough.”

“You’ll get the rest of what I got you tonight.”

“I swear to god,” Carson starts. “I’m not god, but I am close to a goddess.”

Carson groans, trying to focus on anything other than the terror that she was sure was about to come to her tonight. One of the players kept looking up at her, over his shoulder and seemingly ignoring his teammates. “What did you do?”

Morgan shrugs, nudging Carson’s shoulder as she waves at the player. “His name is Jack.”

“Just because I’m studying law, that doesn’t mean I’m above breaking at least one of them.”

“Yes, it does.”

The game starts, Carson’s eyes staying on the one player who had been watching her before. He gave her the vibes of someone who would end up naked and drunk in the hallway of her dorm in college, passed out and unsure of where his pants or keys were.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Morgan asks once the second period starts.

Carson doesn’t make a noise, just nodding. He was the exact type of mistake she would make on a night out when she needed to forget about something. “Why does he keep staring?”

“Probably for the same reason you’re staring at him even if you do look like you want to kill him.” Carson turns to glare at Morgan. “I’m just saying, you might be hot, but you also look like you could commit a felony right now.”

Carson sighs, waiting for the end of the game. She had no idea what was going on, but Morgan seemed to be into it at least.

Carson lets out a yawn as the fans start to file out of the arena, Morgan dragging her along behind her. “Can we please just go home?”

“No, I have a surprise for you.”

“Last time you had a surprise for me, I ended up needing three of my tires replaced.”

“And they gave you the fourth one for free, anyway,” Morgan grabs Carson’s hand, pulling her in the direction of some bar she wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning.

Carson knew that no matter how much she complained to Morgan, her friend would have something to counter every whine. They had lived together all four years of college before finally somehow scraping together enough money to each get their own places, despite the fact that they were still neighbors in their apartment building. Morgan, unfortunately, could get Carson to do anything she asked her to since she knew exactly how to make it so Carson wouldn’t say no. Most of the time, it involved physically dragging Carson places, like she was doing right now, but it always somehow worked.

“I’m paying for drinks,” Morgan tells her, dropping Carson’s hand as they two walk into the unreasonably crowded and slightly smelly bar.

“Yeah, like that was in question,” Carson tells her.

“You go sit down, I’ll find you.”

Morgan leaves Carson alone. The scene around her made her want to run away, except for the fact that Morgan could track her location and would not be above chasing her down the street and dragging her back to the bar. Everyone seemed like they were five drinks in, Carson feeling anxious about being what seemed to be the only sober person around.

“You ok?” a voice comes behind her, snapping her out of her potential spiral. She turns around, the guy from the game standing in front of her.

“This isn’t real,” she mutters, shaking her head. How the hell did Morgan manage this?

“What?” the guy asks, understandably confused.

“Sorry,” Carson says. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m dehydrated.”

“Can I get you water, then?”

“No.”

“But, wouldn’t that help with the dehydration thing?”

Carson stares at him, dumbfounded. “I can get water myself,” she says, her tone a little harsher than she intended it to be.

“I’m Jack,” he introduces himself, not getting the message at all.

“That’s nice.”

“Do you have a name?”

“No, that spot on my birth certificate has been blank for the last twenty four years. Everyone calls me whatever nickname they can think of. The current one is ‘Maverick.’”

Jack opens his mouth to say something, Morgan appearing in between them before he can get a word in. “You actually came!”

“How could I pass up coming to meet someone as sweet as your friend here after the game?”

Carson barely knew him, but she already knew he would be a thorne in her side.

“She’s already been mean to you, hasn’t she?” Morgan laughs, finally handing Carson the drink she got for her.

“Hey,” Carson tries to protest, despite both of them ignoring her.

“It’s fine. It’s kinda hot,” he smirks, staring at Carson. She didn’t care that she couldn’t help but stare back, her cheeks bright red at his words.

___________________________

She always sat in the same general area, a few rows from the top of the section right behind their bench. It was easy to find her. How could he not at least try?

___________________________

“Why are you anxious?” Morgan asks, plopping down on Carson’s couch.

“Who said I was anxious?”

“You’re scrunchie.”

“What could that possibly mean?”

“You’re scrunching your brow so much and frowning so hard that you have wifi symbols showing on your face. You only do that when you’re anxious.”

“Please don’t say that to me ever again.” Carson lets out a sigh. She shouldn’t be anxious. She’s done things that were so much more difficult than this. She graduated with a 4.0 GPA in high school and college. She participated in every possible extra curricular that she could, and did so perfectly. She had her life scheduled down to the minute, when she would study, eat, have free time. She didn’t have time to be anxious. “Jack is supposed to be here any minute.”

Morgan lets out a squeal so high that Carson covers her ears. “You’re finally going on a date with him?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“Tell me everything,” Morgan says, plopping herself at Carson’s feet.

“No.”

“Carson,” Morgan whines.

“Morgan,” Carson counters. “I don’t even know where we’re going. From what it sounds like, it’s not even going to be just us, it’s something with the team.”

“He’s taking you to meet the rest of his team?” she yells.

“If you get that loud again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

“We both know your window doesn’t open far enough for me to get out of it, we’ve tried. Anyway,” Morgan continues, ignoring Carson’s annoyance, as usual. “That means something if he already wants you to know his teammates.”

“It means he already had plans with them when he asked me to go out with him and is dragging me somewhere I wasn’t otherwise invited.”

“You could be positive sometimes, you know.”

“There’s no fun in that.”

“Carse,” Morgan says, “He wouldn’t be inviting you if he didn’t like you. He wouldn’t have been texting you every waking moment that he could if he didn’t like you.”

“It’s kind of annoying.”

“That’s because you are a black hole personified and he’s the human equivalent of a dumb puppy.”

Carson scrunches her face while she looks at her friend. “That’s mean.”

“I’m trying to say that you two are different. And that’s ok. He’s more extroverted than you are. You’re still going to have fun because you’re going to be with him.” Carson looks at her, unsure. “If you’re not fine, I have your location and I will come join you guys, or come pick you up.”

“Why am I nervous?”

“Probably because this is the first guy you’re going out with that doesn’t look like a dead baby bird.”

“Sometimes, inside thoughts can stay inside.”

“My point,” Morgan starts, pulling Carson up to lead her out the door, “Is that he’s not your normal type and you don’t know what to do, so you’re panicking. But, again, you’ll be fine.”

Before Carson could say anything else, a knock came from the other side of her door. Morgan opens it, Jack standing there with his hands in his jeans pocket.

“Wow,” Morgan verbalizes what Carson was thinking as she tries not to ogle at Jack. His jeans fit him way more perfectly than she would have liked, the t-shirt he had on showing off his arms in a way that made her feel like she was actually about to start drooling. For fucks sake.

“I think Carson is supposed to say that,” Jack jokes, leaning against the door frame.

“Jesus Christ,” Carson groans, Morgan laughing as she pushes her way past Jack to head back to her place.

“Actually, they call me Jack.”

“If you keep this up all night, I’m not leaving this apartment.”

“Is this your way of asking me to come in?”

“Absolutely not. We’re going now to meet your friends or you’re going by yourself.”

Carson didn’t see Jack physically swoon at Carson as she walked past him, a stupid grin on his face as he watched her walk away from him.

___________________________

Morgan was sitting next to her, the two of them seeing less of each other now that they didn’t live with or next to each other anymore. Carson was laughing at something Morgan was telling her, the smile on her face reaching her eyes.

___________________________

“What are you doing right now?”

Carson groaned, knowing that any time Jack was asking her to do something lately, it was to pull her away from something she actually had to get done. “Studying.”

“When’s the test?”

“Next week.”

“Come out with me.”

“No.”

“I’m picking you up, I’m turning onto your street now.”

Jack hangs up before Carson can protest, her immediately texting Morgan to tell her she was being kidnapped.

‘You aren’t being kidnapped, you aren’t a kid.’

‘Kidnapping is anytime a person’s liberty is restrained by force and taken to another location.’

Before Morgan could text back, Jack was knocking at her door.

“I’m not going.”

“Come on. Half an hour?” he begs her. Carson glares at him. “I’ll buy ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Says that three cheese pizza you downed the other night.” Carson continues to glare at him. “Please? I’m leaving tomorrow for a week and a half. It’ll be the last time I can bother you until then.”

Carson rolls her eyes, shutting her textbook with her highlighter keeping her page like a bookmark. “I’m studying in the car.” Jack smiles at her, holding his hand out for her. Carson smirks, grabbing another book from her table and putting it in his hands instead.

Jack runs to follow her, his free hand on the small of her back, a smile on his face as she didn’t fight it. They get in his car, the windows down and the radio blasting as he peels away from where he was parked.

Jack starts talking, Carson not listening in the slightest as she continues to read the book in her lap, just like she promised.

“Wait, shut up,” Carson finally says, reaching over to turn up the music that was already loud. “I love this song.”

Jack laughs, glancing at her as he pulls up to a stop light. “Seriously? 1985 by Bowling for Soup?”

“My childhood best friend and I would listen to this song all the time growing up,” Carson explains,the smile on her face something Jack rarely got to see but loved every time. Jack’s smile mirrored hers as she started to sing along. He couldn’t help but laugh again as he listened to her. “What?”

“You are a horrible singer.”

“Yeah, because you would be better,” she snides, looking back at her book.

“Oh, of course I would be,” he says, starting to sing along with her.

Carson cackles, a sound Jack had never heard from her before. “You are just as bad as I am.”

___________________________

He thought of her whenever that song played, his heart beating faster every time the opening guitar riff played through whatever speaker he was near. He never purposefully listened to that song. The song never played in any of the arenas they played in, except for Rogers Arena, like it was now.

___________________________

“What do you mean, ‘we’re going out tonight?’” Carson groans.

“You just finished finals, Quinn is in town, and we’re heading down the shore for the weekend.”

“So I have to pack for a whole weekend?”

“Unless you plan on wearing the same thing for four days, I suggest you do,” Jack says, Morgan laying on Carson’s bed laughing.

“I wish you were helpful,” Carson says, throwing a shirt at Morgan. “I’m not here to be helpful, I’m here to be comic relief.”

“Then you should try being funny sometimes.”

Jack laughs, his phone buzzing with a call. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and answering it out of Carson’s room.

Once he was out of earshot, Morgan sits up, a giddy look on her face that caused a pit to form in Carson’s stomach. “You’re going away with him for a weekend!” Carson grimaces. “You aren’t excited?”

Carson sighs, getting up to close her door so Jack can’t hear them. “I think he wants more from whatever this is than I do.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan whispers.

“I can’t see a relationship with him.”

“Carse, he’s perfect.”

“He kind of is. Which is why I don’t see it. Anthony was perfect.”

“No, Anthony was the human equivalent of a stale ham sandwich who, if brains were money, wouldn’t have been able to buy a cup of coffee.”

“Go eat something.”

“What?”

“Your metaphors turn food related when you’re hungry.”

“My point is,” Morgan says, getting up. “Anthony is not Jack. Don’t ruin something before it starts because of something that happened with someone else.” “Hey,” Jack says, startling both of them. “Sorry, Luke was asking if we were on his way to pick him up. Are we ready to head out?”

___________________________

He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t realize that Luke had skated up to his side.

“You didn’t know she’d be here?” Jack shakes his head. “Quinn doesn’t know you still love her?”

He shakes his head.

___________________________

Carson hated to admit it, but she was having a good time. She hated to admit that she needed to relax, especially after the intensity that she had when she was taking finals. They were sitting around a fire one of them had set up on the beach, the smell of smoke hitting Carson right in the face, the night air starting to chill around them. The guys were all laughing, their partners sitting in their laps as a few of them fell asleep.

“Where’s Quinn?” Luke leans over Carson to ask Jack.

“You have his location,” Carson says before Jack can answer. The brothers keep anticipating Quinn with every new person that shows up, their usually prompt brother still MIA.

“I don’t know where my phone is.”

“What’s that in your left hand, bud?”

“Right,” Luke draws out as Carson and Jack both laugh at him. “He’s supposed to be here any minute.”

Luke gets up to head back to the house for what he claims is to use the bathroom. “He hasn’t been drunk in a while. He gets dumber as he drinks,” Jack tells her.

Carson checks the can of beer he left behind. “Isn’t this his first drink of the night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“This can is still full.”

“He might just be dumb.”

“Bold of you to call someone else dumb,” an unfamiliar voice comes from behind their circle around the fire.

“I was just about to say that,” Carson says to the guy who must be Quinn, given how much he looks like his brother.

“God, I never realized there’s two of you,” Jack says to Quinn, the color draining from his face.

“I don’t think you’d survive with two of me,” Carson says, Jack mumbling something about going to the house for a minute as he gets up, a smile on his face anyway.

“So, you must be Carson?” Quinn asks her.

“What was your first clue?” she tries to flirt, taking a sip of her drink while maintaining eye contact with him. She knew that Jack was cute, but there was something different about Quinn. She and Jack were opposites. She and Quinn were the same.

___________________________

He still loved the way she looked in that old hoodie that she stole, the team logo faded and cut through, the number that was supposed to be the right side of her chest gone. He remembered when she stole that, the way her eyes lit up the first time he saw her in it as she told him she liked that she could wear it while he was traveling and he would still be with her.

___________________________

“Who’s picking up Carson?” Ellen yells up the stairs.

“I am,” Quinn and Jack both called at the same time, Jack’s mind running wild at the fact that his brother answered with him. Since meeting Quinn a few weeks ago, Carson had been mentioning him a lot more in their conversations. He shouldn’t be bothered by it. They never actually established that they were dating. Sure, they had hooked up, and sure, it was all Jack could think about since, but they were never dating.

He wasn’t Carson’s boyfriend.

“We both are,” Jack amends, running down the stairs when he hears Quinn do the same.

The brothers get in Quinn’s car, a smile across Quinn’s face while Jack can feel himself start to panic. “So, you’re excited to see Carson?”

“Yeah,” Quinn lets out. “I’ve missed Car.”

“Car?”

“That’s what I call her sometimes, yeah.”

“Doesn’t everyone else call her ‘Carse’ if they don’t call her Carson?”

Quinn laughs. “She said she likes when I call her ‘Car,’ instead.” Quinn keeps talking the rest of the way to the airport, both boys getting a text from her saying that she had just landed.

Neither boy had seen Carson in weeks, but it seemed like she had been talking to Quinn much more than she had been talking to Quinn.

Quinn pulls up to the airport, both boys getting out to go find the girl they wanted to see. Jack felt like he was racing Quinn to get to her first, Quinn having no idea what was going on in Jack’s head.

They get inside, both of them looking for her.

“Thanks for introducing us, by the way,” Quinn says, breaking the silence between them.

“What?”

“Me and Carson. When you told me I’d love her, I didn’t realize how right you’d be.”

Jack swallows, the pit in his stomach making him feel like he wanted to throw up. Quinn couldn’t love Carson the way Jack did.

The way Jack did?

Jack spots her first, shaking his head of the thought of loving her when he sees the Canucks sweatshirt with 43 on it hanging on her body. Jack looks at Quinn, Quinn’s favorite sweatshirt on the girl Jack wanted to be with.

Carson spots them, a smile on her face as she runs towards them, her suitcase clumsily trailing behind her. She lets go of her suitcase, it rolling towards Jack as she runs into Quinn’s arms, acting as if Jack wasn’t there to begin with.

___________________________

Morgan says one last thing to Carson, heading back towards the concessions, probably to get them drinks. Knowing Carson, she was out with Morgan on the condition that she didn’t have to pay for drinks. Jack couldn’t help but laugh to himself, Luke giving him a strange look while he stood there, lost in thought.

___________________________

Why would Carson want to be out right now?

She wouldn’t want to.

So why was she out right now at a bar that was way too loud, smelled incredibly bad, and was so crowded she could barely move a muscle without hitting another person?

Morgan.

Well, and Jack.

But, mostly Morgan.

“I hate you for this,” she yelled over whatever music was playing.

“No, you don’t,” Morgan and Jack say at the same time, both of them laughing despite Carson sending both of them a death stare.

“You haven’t been out of your apartment in, like, two months,” Jack says as Morgan walks away to get another drink

“We went to get coffee together four times this week,” Carson rebuttes, her phone in her hand lighting up with a text from Quinn.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his name, not paying attention to the clear awkwardness that Jack felt when he saw his own brother’s name on her phone. She loved texting him, talking with him every free minute the two of them had. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him fast.

Quinn loved that she was a lawyer, that she was passionate about helping people, he respected all of her decisions when it came to her uncertainty with her future. He made her laugh, he constantly made sure that she was ok and genuinely showed he cared about her.

He was everything he wanted in a guy, except that he was on the other side of the continent.

“What’s Vancouver like?” she asks Jack, again having to yell over the noise.

Jack shrugs, “It seems a lot like New Jersey, honestly. I’m never there long enough to find out.”

Could she see herself in Vancouver? She had looked into it, she just had to take another exam and be approved by their judicial system and she would be ok to practice law.

Quinn had officially asked her to be his girlfriend when she went to visit the boys a few weeks ago. She wasn’t sure if Jack knew yet.

“I’m going to get another drink, do you want anything?” she asks, elbowing her way back to the bar when he says he’s fine.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she hears from behind her once she orders her drink. She turns around, trying not to audibly groan.

“Anthony.”

“How are you Carse?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do I need to give more?”

“Well, it’s a genuine question.”

“‘Fine’ is a genuine answer. What do you want, Anthony?”

“When can we get back together?”

Carson scoffs, the bartender handing her her drink that she was now tempted to throw in his face. “We’re not.”

“Come on, Carse,” he says, taking a step toward her, his hand trailing down her arm. “We had so much fun together. Why do we want to throw all that away?”

“I have a boyfriend, Anthony.”

“I don’t see him.”

Before Carson could answer, she feels Jack come up behind her, thankful that it was him and not some other stranger. “Babe, I told you, I was paying for drinks tonight.”

Carson looks up at him, turning toward him so Anthony couldn’t see her mouth a quick ‘thank you,’ to him. “I put it on your tab, don’t worry,” she turns back to Anthony, the smile on her face because of the stupid look on his face. “Anthony, meet my boyfriend, Jack.”

Anthony mumbles something, walking away before either of them could say anything else.

“I owe you,” Carson says once Anthony is far enough away neither of them could see him.

“Well, drinks are on me tonight,” he says, earning a laugh from her. “Nice job, lying about the boyfriend thing. Think we’ll have to keep it up until we leave?”

Carson laughs again. “I wasn’t lying about having a boyfriend.”

“What?” Jack asks, Carson not noticing the panic on his face.

“Quinn asked me to be his girlfriend.”

Before Jack can respond, Morgan runs over, squealing something about how their song was playing and that they just had to go dance. Carson quickly hands her drink to Jack, running off with her friend.

Jack downs the drink, ordering another.

His brother got the girl.

___________________________

He sees Carson waving to someone down on the ice, his heart racing in the worst way because he knew it wasn’t to him. Jack followed her gaze to Quinn, who was waving back at her, a smile on his face while he was on the ice when he was notorious for looking like he was having an existential crisis all the time. He should hate the guy who got to love the girl he wanted to be with. But how could he hate his brother?

___________________________

“You’re what?”

“I’m moving to Vancouver.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“No you aren’t.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“Morgan,” Carson whines, “You’re going to be fine.”

Morgan groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m being dramatic, let me mourn.” The girls laugh, Carson getting up to grab a drink. “So, you and Quinn are actually serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, we have to be if I’m willing to move across the continent and to another country.”

“Are you going to be able to practice law?”

Before Carson can answer, a knock at her doors follows with someone walking in.

“Are you a murderer?” Morgan yells to the stranger from Carson’s kitchen, prompting Carson to roll her eyes.

“Definitely,” Jack says, appearing in the doorway. “I got us dinner,” he says, holding up a bag. “What are we talking about?”

“If Carson can practice law or not.”

Jack laughs, setting down the food. “How did you manage to get disbarred already? You passed like three months ago.”

“I shot a man in Reno,” Carson deadpans. “I didn’t get disbarred. I’m just,” she hesitates, knowing that telling the two people who were her best friends was going to be the hardest. “I’m moving.”

Jack’s attention snaps to Carson, a look of panic on his face. “Where?”

“She’s moving in with Quinn.”

“You’re moving to Vancouver?”

“Yeah. Quinn asked me last week to move out there with him, and I told him yes today.”

Jack didn’t hear anything else while the three of them sat at Carson’s table and ate the food Jack brought. She would be able to practice law in Canada with a few more steps to get there, she would be living with Quinn.

She would be away from Jack.

She would never be with Jack.

___________________________

He could see the engagement ring on her finger from here, the sapphire in the middle catching the light in just the right way. His mother had their grandmother’s engagement ring, something much more simple, that had been intended for whichever boy wanted to give it to their future partner. Jack didn’t want to give it to anyone. He knew that their grandmother’s ring was picked for their grandmother. He wanted to give his person a ring meant for them. He wanted to give a ring he knew would suit her and would make her think of him whenever she looked at it. That’s why he and Quinn had helped the jeweler design it in the first place. It had to be made for her.

___________________________

Quinn had texted in the family group chat that the ring was ready and that he was picking it up from the jeweler that day after practice.

Everyone in the family congratulated him, his mom gushing about how excited she was to have a daughter, and how happy she was that it was Carson. His dad talked about how he was glad Quinn found someone who made him happy. Luke gave a thumbs up and texted in the group chat without their parents something stupid that Jack still hadn’t read yet.

Jack said nothing.

And he wasn’t sure anyone noticed.

Quinn and Carson were going to be engaged soon.

Jack didn’t know who to talk to, his finger hovering over Carson’s contact. He shouldn’t call her. He could call Morgan. But he knew Morgan was busy doing something with her job. He didn’t want to bother her.

He pressed it, turning on the speaker and pushing his phone away from him before he could hang up.

“Hello?” her name comes out of his speaker. He opens his mouth to say something, realizing he had no idea where to begin. “Jack, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, dropped my phone,” he lied, lunging to grab it. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Carson laughs, Jack’s insides jumping at the sound he hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

“How are things?” he asks, silently smacking his forehead at how stupid he sounded. He used to be able to talk to her with ease, having conversations that would go on for hours before either of them even found any silence between them.

Now he could barely talk to her, the sound of her voice something he wanted to hear so badly, something he missed more than he could actually put into words, and he didn’t know what to say so that he could listen to her.

“Things are actually really great,” she says. He could hear the smile on her face coming through the phone. “Quinn and I just work together, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeats to himself, trying to hide the pain he felt hearing that. “Have you and Quinn talked about…” he starts, his voice trailing off, the words catching in his throat knowing that Quinn could technically ask her at any moment.

“About what?”

“About you guys getting married?”

Carson stays quiet for a second, a smile on her face forming that broke Jack’s heart with every millimeter it grew. “Yeah, we have.”

“And?”

Carson’s cheeks turned red. “He hasn’t told me outright, but I think he’s proposing soon.”

Jack’s heart fully shattered, a fake smile on his face. “That’s great.”

“He hasn’t talked to you about it at all?”

“We, uh,” he starts, running his hand through his hair as he laid down on his bed. “We haven’t been able to get each other on the phone lately.” The two of them sat in silence, one of the first times neither of them knew what to say to each other. Conversation used to be so easy between them. “Don’t do it.”

“What?” Carson asks, Jack unsure if she didn’t hear him or thought she didn’t.

“Don’t get engaged to him.”

“Jack-”

“Carson, I still love you,” he blurts out, leaving Carson stunned. “Carson, please say something.” He wasn’t planning on telling her during this conversation. He wasn’t planning on telling her at all.

“Still?”

“I think I started falling for you the first minute I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack swallows, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “By the time I realized it, you were already falling in love with Quinn.”

“Jack.”

“How could I tell you I love you when I was watching you fall in love with my older brother?”

“Jack.”

“How am I supposed to sit here knowing that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone who is perfect for you knowing that I was so close to being that person?” he says outloud.

“What do you want me to say?” she whispers.

“Tell me you won’t do it.”

Carson squeezes her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t.”

“Carson.”

“Jack, I love Quinn. And he loves me. It has to go both ways. I can’t tell him ‘no’ because you feel something for me that I never felt for you.” Jack says nothing, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. “I have to go. Quinn will be home any minute.”

Carson hangs up, without saying another word, the front door opening as she whipped away her tears.

“Hey,” Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You ready to head out?”

“Uh, just give me a minute. I was talking to Jack and got distracted.”

“Yeah? How is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“He mentioned that,” Carson nods, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go grab my shoes.”

Quinn watches her walk away, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed for the night.

Phone, check.

Keys, check.

Wallet, check.

Engagement ring.

Check.

___________________________

Quinn skates over to his brothers, who were still standing next to each other. The crowd starts yelling, as they normally do when the three brothers are on the same ice at the same time. Luke and Jack greet Quinn, Jack trying to pretend like he wasn’t distracted.

“Hey, wait,” Quinn says when the two are about to skate away. Luke hangs back slightly, pretending not to listen. “Carson wants to get together after the game, all four of us.”

Jack looks at Luke. “Uh, we have a flight out tonight.”

“Luke said you guys are leaving until the morning.”

“It got changed,” Jack lies, making a mental note to turn off his location and hope he can convince Luke to do the same. “The weather’s supposed to be too bad to fly out in the morning.”

“Come on. It’s the last time we’ll be able to get together, just the four of us, before the wedding.”

___________________________

“Ready to go?” Luke asks, suitcase in hand as their boarding group gets called.

“No,” Jack mumbles.

Luke rolls his eyes, yanking Jack by the arm to pull him towards the plane. “What’s your problem with Carson?” Jack fastens his seatbelt, pretending not to hear his younger brother. “Dude.”

“I don’t have a problem with Carson.”

“Then why do you shut down and act like a prick any time we go see them, or anytime her name is mentioned?” Jack doesn’t say anything. “No, we have 6 hours on this plane, so either you are going to use that time to tell me why you have a problem with our future sister-in-law or I’m going to tell Quinn that I’m worried you’re going to Richard Ramirez her in her sleep.”

Jack looks at his brother with a look of horror. “What the fuck? I’m not the Night Stalker.”

“Talk,” Luke pokes his brother’s side.

“I liked Carson before she met Quinn.”

“You’re acting like this because you had a crush on her?”

“I’m acting like this because I fell in love with her and she never even thought of me that way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Every interaction you’ve ever had with her now makes sense.”

“What?”

“Every time you talk to her, you have that look on your face like she was telling you she killed your first born.” Jack looks at him horrified, again. “Yeah, like that.”

“Stop watching CSI.”

“There’s so many seasons.”

Luke keeps talking about something while he doesn’t realize Jack is barely paying attention, interjecting with a generic confirmatory noise every once in a while until Jack finally pretends to go to sleep.

His brother eventually falls asleep instead, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts without his brother’s voice in his ear. He hadn’t seen or talked to Carson since the night she called him before Quinn had proposed. She went from a stranger, to someone he could see in his life forever, back to a stranger.

He couldn’t even talk to a girl anymore without thinking of Carson, how she compared to her, how her humor and deadpan delivery wasn’t the same as Carson’s, how she didn’t look like Carson or walk like Carson. He was in love with his brother’s fiance, on his way to their engagement party.

___________________________

Jack barely processed what happened during the game. He made the plays he had to, passed the puck when he needed to, but his mind was empty.

After the game, Luke comes up to him once they're both dressed. “Ready for this?”

“No.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

They wait for Quinn outside, the adrenaline coursing through him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure he could face her, even after all this time.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, the voice he once loved now sending panic through him.

“Hi.”

___________________________

“Alright, you’ve got to get it together,” Luke says as they get out of the car that brought them to the venue. Their parents were already inside, Carson and Quinn definitely inside.

“I’ll be fine,” he lies, a gift in shaking hand as he opens the door with the other to let Luke go first. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to go in and face Carson for the first time since their phone call the night they ended up getting engaged. “I’ll be fine.”

The party was set up in a way that made exact sense for Carson, it was classy and elegant, while still having shades of Quinn’s chaos thrown in here and there. He didn’t know exactly why it made sense for them, but it did.

Because they made sense.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, causing him to jump. Carson stands behind him, a short white dress fitting her perfectly in a way that made his heart race. He knew there was a reason to wear a black shirt, and it was to hide the sweat that he felt coming on just being around her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, holding out the gift. “This is from us.”

“Us?”

“Um,” he shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “Me and Luke. You didn’t expect him to pick something out on his own, did you?’

“No, not at all.”

They stand in silence, neither of them knowing what to do. “You look good,” he says, probably one of the first opinions he shared that actually had some semblance of truth to it.

“Thanks, you do, too. How are things?”

“Things are good,” he says, trying not to cringe at how awkward this whole thing felt. He shouldn't have come, but how was he going to say no to the girl he loved and his own brother? “I’m seeing someone, actually,” he hears himself say, surprised by the lie he didn’t know was coming.

“Really?” her eyes light up. “Jack, that’s great. Quinn didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s still new. I haven’t really said anything about it to Quinn yet. I don’t want to jinx it, you know?”

“I get it,” she nods, a smile still lighting up her face. “I’m so happy for you.”

She pulls him in for a hug, Jack keeping one of his hands in his pants pocket. He knew himself too well; if he hugged her too tight, he wouldn’t want to let go.

He hated how corny and stupid he felt. She is his older brother's fiance. He had to forget about her in that way.

“Hey,” Quinn joins them, pulling Jack in for a hug. “Sorry to interrupt, but Car, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Go, go, I need to find my way to a drink anyway,” Jack waves them off.

Carson takes Quinn’s hand, turning to be led off somewhere by Quinn. She turns over her shoulder, smiling at Jack, as he watched the two of them walk off. She turns away, Jack staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch her walk away.

___________________________

The four of them get to a restaurant Quinn had taken his brothers to before, despite the fact that Jack couldn’t remember the name for the life of him.

Jack sets his phone on the table, the rest of them doing the same.

As they order, Jack’s phone lights up with a text from Morgan: ‘When do you come home? I miss you.’

#Jack Hughes #Quinn Hughes #Luke Hughes #New Jersey Devils #Devils #Vancouver Canucks #Canucks #Jack Hughes fic #Jack Hughes x OC #Quinn Hughes fic #Quinn Hughes x OC

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artistsfuneral · 2 days

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I'm always a sucker for Witcher fics where someone comes to the keep really young (maybe Eskel?) and they don't speak the common language at ALL and it's even more terrifying and confusing what's happening to them. Cue lots of friendships and learning how to find their place!

ohohohohohohoho yesssss ❤✨ also isn't it canon that Eskel came from "mountain people"? It would make sense that toddler Eskel only speaks Norwegian Northern (also I started learning norwegian for no reason whatsover, so I am going to use my 100 words)

deaged!Eskel, shy toddlers, softe Geralt and awkward Lambert

It was common knowledge that most of the collected artefacts in the dungeons of Kear Morhen were cursed in one way or another. So it wasn't all that surprising, when one of them started to omniously glow once Lambert got too close to it by accident. It also wasn't very surprising that the youngest wolf was quickly shoved away by Eskel, kind, protective Eskel, who promptly ended up at the center of the curse's magic.

The tiny toddler that appeared where the full grown witcher once stood, was unexpected though. Lambert had been prepared to fight a monster, but his drawn sword prooved to be rather counterproductive when it was noticed by big brown baby eyes that immediately turned teary at the sight of danger. The loud crying that followed strangled Lambert's heart painfully.

"Oh, no, no, no! Please don't cry, I don't know what to do, when you cry!" Panicking, Lambert did the only thing that came to his mind and he reached out to pick the tiny toddler up. The witcher looked helplessly around the room, as if any of the artefacts could provide him with the secret knowledge of childcare. Eskel didn't stop crying.

"Uh- Let's get you to Geralt, okay? You like Geralt right? You're best buds, he will know what to do."

Alarmed by the sounds of a crying child, Geralt was already halfway down the keep, when Lambert reached him. The - currnetly not - youngest wolf hastened his steps and practically shoved tiny Eskel into Geralt's arms. "Lambert, what on earth?" Adjusting his hold instinctively, Geralt started to rock the toddler in his arms, one hand gently petting the mop of unruly brown hair. "Uh- that's Eskel," Lambert managed to blurt out.

"Eskel?"

"He got cursed. Down in the dungeon. I didn't know what to do, not sure he recognized me." Geralt hummed. "If it truly is Eskel, then we might have a small problem."

"What, why?" Lambert's eyes darted down from Geralt's to look a the small figure sniffling in the witcher's arms. "He's was born up north," Geralt explained slowly, "didn't speak a word of common when he first got here. It took him years to learn." Lambert's mouth went dry.

What Geralt didn't seem to know was that Lambert could in fact speak most northern dialects. But what on earth could he possibly say to a tiny child he already managed to bring to tears seconds after meeting him? He took a shaking breath, "Går det bra med deg?"

Eskel's reaction was immediate. His little head snapped up from where he had been hiding it under Geralt's chin and he stared at Lambert with wide eyes. "Hva?"

"Går det bra?" Lambert repeated, trying his best to ignore Geralt's confused stare. Between snotty sniffles a small voice that sounded nothing like the Eskel they knew, the child answered. "Ja, bra."

Lambert let out a sigh of relief. "He says he's alright, probably just got scared." Geralt's shoulders relaxed visibly. "Didn't know you speak northern."

"Wasn't exactly needed until now."

"Can you ask him, if he knows who we are? Does he recognize us at all?"

Lambert blinked at the other wolf. Angry, at himself, for not thinking about asking such an important question. He focused his gaze back at Eskel. "Vet du hvem jeg er?" A wide, toothy grin spread across Eskel's little face. His chubby little finger pointed straight at Lambert and he exclaimed proudly, "Ulv! Rød ulv!" The action was quickly followed by a similarly enthusiastic pointing, this time at Geralt, "Hvit Ulven!"

Lambert chuckled. "I think he'll be alright."

#red wolf and white wolf #the witcher #witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geralt #eskel #lambert #witcher eskel #witcher lambert #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #ficlet #deaging #ask answered

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bloggingboutburgers · 5 hours

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Wait I'm actually crying because the other day I read one of your comics about your qpr and I can't remember which one but I couldn't stop thinking about how cool it would be and how much i liked the idea of a non-romantic or sexual kind of relationship with someone, but then I kept thinking "but you do experience attraction and have desired a romantic relationship with someone before". I kept on thinking this until at one point I tried to remember when I actually wanted to be with someone and couldn't come up with anything. Yeah, I've had feelings for people before (I think- still figuring that out) but when I thought about us actually being together it just didn't feel right at all. I kept trying to find evidence of romantic attraction but it just wasn't there. I've kinda "denied" being even just ace for awhile because of internalized homophobia, and it took me awhile to finally realize that yes, I am aro/ace, and I onoy realized thid after much internal debate and afyer readung your posts. Basically your comic helped me learn and accept myself instead of hiding because I'm scared people won't accept me. Thank you so so much :) (and sorry this is so long haha)

Aaaaaaa thank YOU for telling me that!!! It makes me so happy if my comics can help someone out in that way, and I hope figuring yourself out in that way also makes YOU happy TwT

Despite being in my 30s I realized I was aroace at 14, but I feel I might be more of an exception and it just being due to me being very persistent, inquisitive and having a strong sense of identity. 'Cus yeah, seems society does a lot (accidentally or not) to not let anyone ever know that asexuality and aromanticism ARE a thing, and beyond that, ARE valid, and beyond that, that YES, you can be happy with those orientations. It's made so hard to get to a place of self-knowledge and acceptance, so it's no wonder people need a while to figure themselves out!

(...And yeah the whole "Oh you experience positive feelings for someone? THAT'S ROMANCE! Wait, negative feelings too? THAT'S ROMANCE ACTUALLY! Feelings of mild interest in general? THAT'S ROMANCE! EVERYTHING IS ONLY EVER ROMANCE!" thing definitely doesn't help either.)

So... Yeah. I'm really glad this could help, and I hope knowing this about yourself will help you not force yourself into boxes you don't actually fit in in the future... And find the right boxes for you if that helps, of course.

I really wish you the best TwT

#anon #aromantic #asexual #aroace #this makes me so happy

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morlock-holmes · 2 days

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Part of my confusion about "Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria" is that it's really just... not a good term? It doesn't really reflect what it's supposed to, which is the idea that some teenagers essentially take on a trans identity as a sort of social role spurred on by friend groups.

I think that this is likely to be actually true in at least some sense, so I was amazed at how unconvincing the Littman paper which coined the term actually is. The parental narratives advanced in that paper are just unbelievable on their face.

Ever since the gay rights movement I've felt that our vocabulary for talking about this stuff is deliberately incredibly stupid, for reasons I haven't quite been able to suss out.

In the gay rights battles, everybody got together and agreed that there were exactly two possibilities:

Gay people are born that way

Gay people made a choice to be gay

I think this is really dumb because those are really obviously not the only two options, and also because there's lots of biological "born this way" things we still treat or try to eliminate, and lots of choices that are still incredibly important to protect.

But also, like, okay, think about sexual fetishes. Say you have a guy with a cheerleader fetish. Cheerleaders are a contingent social phenomenon; no 12th century Breton had a cheerleader fetish. The possibility of such a fetish arose with the invention of the cheerleader.

But it's just as obvious that people do not choose their fetishes the way that they choose, say, a new car. Nobody says, "After listing out the pros and cons, I felt that having a cheerleader fetish was the best choice, because it combines a little bit of exotic spice while still being mainstream enough that it can't be used as blackmail if people find out about it."

No, one day you just realize that you think cheerleaders are really hot.

I do tend to think that gender identity is, for most people, a lot less immediately set in stone than sexual orientation is. My personal impression is that the vast majority of people start to understand very quickly whether they are attracted to men, women, or both, and that they only tell themselves differently because they fear social censure.

I'm not really convinced that the same is true of gender identity; I think that for an extremely large number of people it does function a bit more like a fetish, in that there are people who encounter the idea for the first time, go, "Huh, yeah that's cool or whatever" and after repeated encounters come to think, "Actually I am really into this."

I'm very, very suspicious of the tendency to then assert that this must inherently, then, be a discovery of something that always existed within the person since birth.

There's also the fact that gender roles exist, and people want to be legible to people around them.

For a lot of people, dressing up as a vampire on Halloween is fun, but dressing up as a vampire to go grocery shopping in June would be deeply embarrassing. Because on Halloween all the people around you understand why you're dressed that way and your dress makes you part of a larger social whole; in June you're going against the grain, marking yourself out from the people around you, probably drawing stares and hidden smiles.

Because sex roles in our society are so set in stone, there is a certain extreme dissatisfaction with not following them, even when allowed to do so.

I can wear chokers and frills and pretty hair ribbons if I want, but the women around me can do that anywhere in the country and have people think of it as normal, as obvious, rather than *a statement*.

Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, from reading the Littman paper, seems to refer to a parental conviction that their child essentially got the idea to be trans from a peer group who convinced them they were trans despite a lack of gender dysphoria in childhood.

Like I said, the general narrative is really, really hard to believe at face value, for example:

A total of 63.8% of the parents have been called “transphobic” or “bigoted” by their children for one or more reasons, the most common being for: disagreeing with the child about the child’s self-assessment of being transgender (51.2%); recommending that the child take more time to figure out if their feelings of gender dysphoria persist or go away (44.6%); expressing concerns for the child’s future if they take hormones and/or have surgery (40.4%); calling their child by the pronouns they used to use (37.9%); telling the child they thought that hormones or surgery would not help them (37.5%); recommending that their child work on other mental health issues first to determine if they are the cause of the dysphoria (33.3%); calling the child by their birth name (33.3%); or recommending a comprehensive mental health evaluation before starting hormones and/or surgery (20.8%)

So, like, the whole tenor of the paper is that these are basically very liberal parents who are sort of being cut off by their kids for no reason, but like...

This is typical of the general weasel wording used by Littman. Are the third of parents who called their kids by pronouns they used to use going, "She - Oops, he, I'm sorry" one time and getting blasted? Do they claim to be trying but just get it wrong literally every single time? Or do they just flat out refuse to call their child by their preferred pronouns?

When my brother was first entering high school, he joined the Sea Scouts, a division of the Boy Scouts dedicated to learning about sailing. He later entered a maritime college and has had a succession of maritime jobs, which will likely be his career for the rest of his life.

Is that the result of social contagion or was he born that way?

I think the question is obviously both absurd and irrelevant.

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thehappynewzo · 23 hours

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SYNASTRY OBSERVATIONS🔥❤️

I just want to give a heads up that I am no professional astrologer.. although it's funny cuz you see most users saying this here and their predictions seem pretty professional in the end no? Lol. Anyways, as I was saying, please don't plagiarise my content..but wait, no, I don't really have a problem actually cause astrology is astrology and if you wanna use it for your posts, fine...feel free to...I have no issue so please widen your knowledge and share it with others. Okay, I think it's best i begin now.

Also, I'll be talking about stuff that are meant only for adult eyes lol😂 so dear minor watching, i understand how curiosity fuels your engine but please don't interact with this, otherwise curiosity will also begin to kill minors along with cats.😂😂

If something here does not relate with your experience, please keep in mind that astrology is an insanely vast but such a beautiful topic so this varies based on other aspects and placements too.

☀️Sun in the 8th house🏠 -

•The sun person makes the house persons insecurities and past wounds exposed due the sun persons brightness, because of this it seems like the sun person hurts the house person unintentionally.

•The house person gets triggered a lot with certain actions of the sun person but keep in mind, the sun person has no intention of triggering the house person.

•These are the triggers that's developed because of the house persons past and it gets exposed to the sun's light.

•No matter how much the house person tries to stop those triggers, it won't stop in the beginning of the connection.

•The sun person might want to explore the house persons deepest parts that they hide from the world and as the dynamic gets closer to eachother in the connection, the sun persons heat either worsens the wounds or helps heal the house person heal them.

•The sun person pays a lot of attention to the house persons deepest wounds and desires.

•They notice every little detail of the house persons insecurities but you'll be happy to know that the sun person usually finds brightness in all your darkest parts.

•The house person will be someone who provides them a shadey place to relax from their own ego and shine. A place for them to dig deeper than surface level.

•The house person gets obsessed completely with their entire soul towards the sun person. It's usually possible that the house person felt an instant pull to the sun person on their first meeting.

•Here, usually along with the above points, manifests in such a way where the sun person wants the house person to be as open and comfortable with them as possible but the house person is too afraid to expose their sensitive hidden parts to the sun person.

8th house synastry -

•i feel, according to my studies and observations that whatever planet sits in the 8th house becomes like a two sided coin or a opposite sort of thinking here most of the time.

•Usually the planet person thinks and feels some way about the house person but the house person feels like the planet person thinks the complete opposite of what the planet person actually thinks (lol I hope it made sense) and vice versa.

•It's like both the house person and the planet person may have similar feelings about eachother (planets depend as it can change this) but they both think that the other doesn't feel the same way about them.

• EX: VENUS in the 8th house - both of them (planet person and house person) love eachothers beauty and insecurities of eachother but they are insecure that the other person does not like it or will not like it sooner or later.

ANOTHER EX: SUN in the 8th house - both of them (planet person and house person) wants the other to open up to them but they think the other person does not want to or will not support them or understand them. Both of them want to open up abt their insecurities but they both are afraid and hence take a long time to open up but in the beginning are closed off.

Btw, I'll be making a list of Eros in the houses and signs in synastry soon.

Eros (433) in 3rd house : Firstly, Eros is your turn ons. The Eros person is turned on / finds the house person voice very attractive. Also the house persons hands, how the house person speaks and their mind.

Eros (433) in 7th house : The Eros person is turned on / finds the house persons feminity attractive. Even the house persons ass lol. If the house person is a woman, then the Eros person finds her feminine body very beautiful.

Kiss (8267) in the 4rth house :

•the house person can be comforted easily by the kisses of the kiss person.

•the kiss person's kisses feels like home for the house person.

•soft loving kisses.

•slow comforting kisses.

•The kiss person can love to kiss the house person's chest.

Kiss (8267) in the 9th house :

• the house person gets very hyped up and excited when the kiss person kisses them.

•the house person feels protected and safe everytime the kiss person kisses them.

•since this is Jupiter's house, the house person may want more and more of the kiss person's kisses. They may also get a lot of kisses from the kiss person. The kiss person may have the urge to kiss the house person whenever they're around around them since Jupiter expands whatever he touches. This holds true if the house person's Jupiter is in conjunct with the kiss persons kiss Asteroid.

•the kiss person can give the house person kisses out of nowhere too.

Vesta (4) is an asteroid that indicates what our soul is most devoted towards, where you're most dedicated, where you invest a lot of your energy. The conjunctions can make this asteroid very prominent in synastry.

= If you want to know if you are going to invest a lot of energy in a connection, check if Vesta conjuncts any of your inner planets, especially big 3 (ascendant, sun, moon) and ESPECIALLY JUPITER.

= Which planet Vesta conjuncts indicates the kind of dedication or the areas in which you or the other person is dedicated towards in the connection.

= EXAMPLE 1 :

•Vesta conjunct Jupiter = Vesta person is dedication to guide and protect the Jupiter person.

•This conjunction makes the Vesta person extremely, I mean superly duperly extremely excessively devote all the energy they have in them towards the Jupiter person.

•The Vesta person surrenders and devotes themselves to Jupiter person as if the Jupiter person were a god.

= EXAMPLE 2 :

•Vesta conjunct Venus = the Vesta person has a romantic dedication towards the Venus person.

•The Vesta person is very much dedicated to showing the Venus person their love.

•This is a 100% loyalty placement in any romantic relationship. Other aspects matter too though but this tops the loyalty placement among many other.

• The Vesta person is usually the one very loyal in this connection but the Venus person loves the dedication that the Vesta person has towards them and this becomes the Venus person's fuel for loving the vesta person in return.

•The Vesta person is devoted romantically towards the Venus person.

= EXAMPLE 3 :

• Vesta conjunct Sun = the Vesta person has an overall dedication towards the sun person.

• This literally means that the Vesta person is dedicated to the sun persons soul.

= EXAMPLE 4 :

This time I'll give an example of Vesta seated in _______ house.

• Vesta seated in the 8th house = The Vesta person has such a deep leveled soul digging devotion towards the house person, especially if Vesta conjuncts any planet here (esp. big 3).

Yay! Special asteroid mention time!!

Vesta ☌ child (4580) -

The Asteroid Child is youthfulness, where your inner child never dies, where you feel a little lost, where you feel like a child.

•The Vesta persons devotion is aimed at making the child person feel like a child.

•The Vesta person invests HUGE amounts of their energy just to make the child person laugh like a child, smile like a child and feel like a child.

•The Vesta person is also devoted to make the child person's inner child never die, to keep their inner child alive.

•The child person can make the Vesta person feel lost at times.

•The child person is lost when it comes to the Vesta persons devotion towards them, especially if Vesta is also ☌ (conjunct) Sun/Jupiter.

•The child person wonders why the Vesta person is so devoted towards them.

That's all for today my dear readers with amazingly curious minds. I hope you all enjoyed reading this post today and I hope I made somebody smile! Let me know in the comments if anything resonated and if you'd like me to cover anything in astrology!! Love you all so much ! Bye bye for now! Take care, be happy and healthy!😊❤️

Asteroids mentioned above : 433,8267,4,4580

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