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landosjpg · 4 months

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fall back together | ln

the one where your ex-boyfriend invites you to spend a few days with him, but you two still have feelings for each other.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: pining, the tiniest bit of fluff i believe, language, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cockwarming

note: ehhh i don't really know how to feel about this but i wanted to post something, once again not proofread! also i have a looooong flight later this week so pls send in some requests so i can entertain myself during it! <3

you and lando had dated for a little over two years when you decided to call it quits. it wasn't messy; you two had mutually decided to stay as friends. and for the few months that you had been just that, it had worked well so far.

that's why lando had decided to invite you over for the monaco grand prix, insisting that you should spend a few days prior with him so you two could catch up and spend some time together.

as friends, of course.

it took him a few days to convince you, but you finally agreed. and that's why you found yourself walking down the corridor that led to his apartment, suitcase in hand. you could hear his giggles already from the other side of the hall, the sound bringing a smile to your face.

as you opened the door with the keys that he had insisted you should keep after breaking up, for emergencies (even when you lived in a total different country), you heard him talking.

"hey, chat!" you heard him say. you should've guessed he would use his days at home to stream like he used to. "guess who's here!"

you smiled as you walked to the room he was in. the fans had always loved you; you saw the edits they made of your relationship, how everyone used to lose their minds over the way you two looked at each other when you decided to make an appearance on one of his streams.

utterly in love.

and of course, you saw how everyone couldn't believe it when he had announced the end of your relationship.

it's not like any of you had expected it either, but you knew it was for the best or the relationship would consume one of you. but you were happy you had managed to make a friendship work, not really wanting to lose lando. and of course, his fans were excited to see you again.

he turned his chair around as you entered the room, his smile widening as soon as he saw you. you walked his way, happily waving at the camera. normally, he would grab your waist and pull you into his lap.

but this time he didn't.

so you stood there, right next to his chair. and as much as you knew that was how things were, it didn't fell completely right to you.

"i think i'm gonna head to bed," you interrupted after a few minutes in which you talked with him and with the viewers, answering a few questions just like you used to do before everything went down.

but after a long flight and a taxi ride to his house, you felt exhausted and all you wanted was to lie down and call it a day.

lando reached to mute his mic before he could answer you, turning to look at your face as he spoke.

"take my bed, i'll sleep in the spare room," he said. you were certain that the fans would try to decipher what you were saying later, but you didn't really care.

you thought about what he was proposing. it would feel weird, sleeping in his bed without him, so you weren't really convinced about it. and he must had seen it in your face, because before you could say anything, he added:

"come on, y/n". you're tired and the spare bed isn't even made," he looked at you with soft, pleading eyes.

you knew he still wanted the best for you, so you sighed in defeat and accepted his offer with a nod of your head.

after saying goodbye to the chat, you left the room to get ready for bed. as you went through your daily night routine in the bathroom, you noticed how everything you had left there behore the break-up was still in its place.

it looked like you had never left.

you tried not to think too much about it, there could be multiple reasons why he had decided to keep all your stuff. he definitely had moved on, right? it had been months since you two ended things.

you brushed it off, not really wanting it to get to your head and then walked to his room. everything was just like you remembered. damn, he even kept some pictures of you on his wall.

with your pajamas on, you climbed into his bed and covered your body with the soft sheets, the smell of him quickly washing all over you.

you rolled around with a sigh, the bed feeling way too big now that he wasn't next to you to wrap hismself around you. you were unable to sleep as your mind filled with all the nights spent in that exact same mattress between laughs, kisses and endless conversations.

you missed the feeling of his arms around your waist, the sound of his snores and the warmth of his body enveloping you every night.

with your mind racing with all the memories that wouldn't leave your brain, you realized it had been hours since you got in bed when you checked the time on your phone. the house was completely silent by that moment, so you figured lando was already asleep.

you sighed and got up, wandering to the kitchen silentely to not wake him up, with the intention of making yourself a tea that would hopefully help you sleep.

୨୧

sat on the counter, you contemplated the city lights with a warm mug of tea in your hands. the only light that illuminated the kitchen was te one that came out of your room. lando's room.

you were lost in your own thoughts, so you didn't notice his figure walking towards you.

"is that seat taken?" his voice made you jump a little in surprise, swearing under your breath as you turned to look at him, simply shaking your head in response. "sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he added with a chuckle, sitting on the stool right next to you.

you didn't really know what to say, so silence fell between you two while you just stared at each other. despite of it being dark, you could appreciate his messy curls, the spark on his eyes and the sly smile that beautifully decorated his lips.

"can't slep?" his voice was low and tender as he brokw the silence.

"bed feels too big."

at your answer, he just nodded. he kept quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and you could see that he was wondering wheter what he was about to say was appropriate or not.

"you know, as much as it hurts... i'm happy that you're moving on," he finally broke the silence, his words hitting you like a truck.

"i'm not... what do you mean?" you asked in confussion, but your mind was more focused on the fact that the possibility of you moving on hurt him.

"i've seen the pictures."

despite of the sadness that his whisper hid, you knew he wasn't mad at you. he had always said that he wanted you to be happy, whether it was with or without him.

silly of him to think that anyone else could ever make you as happy as he once did.

"just a friend," you mumbled, knowing that he was talking about the guy in your latest posts. but he was nothing more than a friend to you, not even close. "not really my type," you joked, earning a little smile from his lips.

once again, the silence felt deafening as he didn't give you an answer. your nerves were starting to kick in and so, in an attempt to try and make it feel less awkward between you two, you gazed back to the window.

"do you ever miss me?" he whispered again seconds later, the simple question making you freeze.

the answer was easy: yes, like crazy. but you couldn't just say that.

as he waited for you to reply, you felt his eyes on you, curious about what you would answer. and you swore he could hear your heart racing in your chest.

"sometimes, yeah," you finally decided to give him the truth.

or part of it, because confessing that it hadn't been a day in which he didn't cross your mind at least twice a day made you feel too exposed and vulnerable.

you halted when you felt his hand creeping up your legs slowly, stopping when he reached your thigh.

"i miss you, too," his murmur sent you a shiver down your spine, and he was looking up at you from where he was sitting, with puppy eyes.

you knew damn well what those words meant, and you felt your heart breaking at your own answer.

" i don't think it's a good idea, lan," you murmured, not able to hold his gaze for long.

"i know", he uttered, and you felt him sigh, but his hand stayed in your leg. "i'm sorry."

when you heard his simple apology, you closed yout eyes and tried to keep your tears from falling down your cheeks, but you failed miserably.

you knew he was apologizing for not being his best self during the last weeks of your relationship. at first, you had tried to convince yourself it only was a rough patch, but it was burning you down.

and, when you asked him for some time, he agreed. he knew he hadn't been the best boyfriend to you during that time, and he hated seeing you suffer because of him. so he ultimately decided to set you free.

"i'll never take you for granted again," he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears that fell down your face.

you hadn't noticed that he had stoop up from the stool and positioned himself between your legs, but having him so close again made your heart feel warm. and you looked down, knowing that if your eyes met his green orbits you'd throw yourself back right into his arms.

"lan..."

"i swear, y/n," he interrupted you; you could see his eyes were also watery, tears threatening to come out as well, but he held them back as he kept talking. "i know i fucked up, but it won't happen again."

closing your eyes, you sighed. your fingers softly wrapped around his wrist as you kept silently crying.

"please," his whisper made you sob, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and never let go of him. "i promise."

as you took in his words, your hand slid to his neck and he rested his forehead against yours. your breaths were mixing together and you nodded your head slightly, giving him your final answer with that small gesture.

before you could think about it, his lips were on yours. soft, just as you remembered, and you could taste both your tears on his lips. he kissed you slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't want you to slip out of his fingers again.

and you knew he didn't.

"i've missed this," he sighed in between kisses, pulling you a little closer, his arms now wrapped around your waist. "i've missed you, baby."

at the sweet pet name that you never thought you'd be hearing from his lips again, you exhaled with a smile.

"want to join me in bed?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers softly brushing against the skin of his neck. you wanted nothing more than to sleep next to him again, so close that one would think you two were literally attached at the hip.

"you're inviting me to my bed?" he chuckled as his arms went lower on your body, pulling you closer and picking you up from the counter.

"our bed," you corrected him with a giggle of your own.

he planted a soft kiss on your lips and walked you back to his room, wrapped in his arms. he lied you down on the mattress gently, keeping his body over yours. your gazes locked for a few seconds before his lips attacked yours hungrily, the tenderness of the previous interactions now long gone.

your hands roamed all over each other's bodies, clothes soon flying everywhere as both your breaths got heavier.

he started trailing small, wet kisses down your breasts and torso, his hands carefully pulling your underwear down your legs. he spread your open for him and positioned himself between your thighs, looking up at you from the edge of the bed.

you slightly nodded, giving him permission to go on. a long sigh left your lips as soon as you felt his lips pressing a soft kiss on your sensitive bud, and your fingers instinctively got lost in his curls, urging him closer.

"you're so gorgeous, baby," he mumbled, his hot breath against your slick making you moan softly.

you felt his tongue flatten against you and he started licking your cunt as if he was starving. a smug expression plastered on his face when your back arched as his lips found your clit again and he sucked, fingers tugging on his hair.

"fuck, lando..." you stuttered, your legs closing around his head as you felt the knot on your lower stomach about to snap. a small groan escaped his lips, his hands gripping around your thighs, surely leaving small bruises on your smooth skin.

soon, the warmth of his tongue on your pussy felt too overwhelming and your orgasm didn't take long to wash over you, leaving you a moaning mess under his touch.

as you came down from your climax, he got rid of his boxers and hovered over you again, his lips finding yours once more. as you tasted yourself on his tongue, you hummed contently into the kiss, your fingers finding their wait to his curls again.

"you alright, love?" he gently asked, taking a minute to look into your eyes.

"need you inside of me," you panted, your legs hooking at each side of his body as you pulled him closer.

he locked his lips with yours as he teased your folds with his cock, both of you moaning into the other's mouth at the friction. he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside of you, letting you adjust to his size.

"so fucking tight for me, baby," his voice sounded breathless as he started thrusting into you without a hurry.

he took it slow, his movements almost lazy but deep.

and god, did it feel good.

you held each other tightly as he kept that slow pace that you two seemed to be enjoying. he reveled in the way your sweet moans filled the room and your nails drew crescent moons on his shoulders, your face contorting in pleasure as he stretched you out deliciously.

feeling your second orgasm starting to build up, your pussy clamped down on him, drawing him even deeper inside of you; which resulted in a low grunt from his lips.

"baby, i'm gonna... fuck..." you whimpered, unable to even form a proper sentence as the pressure in your lower stomach increased again.

"look at me, love," he groaned, and you did as he had asked.

with your gazes locked in each other's, it only took the two of you a few strokes to come undone, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt him cumming inside of you and leaving you weak under his body.

he collapsed on top of you, a little winded as he left a sweet kiss on your lips before moving to lay down on the mattres, pulling you with him.

"i love you," he uttered, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as he kept his cock buried deep inside of you.

"i love you, lan," you mumbled, your face finding the spot between his jaw and his shoulder as you caught your breath, feeling yourself slowly drifting off to sleep with your nose nuzzled on his neck.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris blurb #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x you #ln4 x reader

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maximumqueer · 22 days

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Yamato, Transness, and "Passing"

Now that we're nearly a full arc removed from Wano and Yamato's introduction, I want to talk about the reaction that a subset of the one piece fandom had to his reveal as a trans man/transmasc person, the transphobia behind that reaction, and how the concept of passing plays into that reaction. I'm not going to be arguing that Yamato is a trans man, as I think it is very obvious that he is given how he is referred to in the canon text. This is instead going to be more of a fandom dissection of why (in my personal opinion) so many people refuse to acknowledge Yamato as a man.

When we are first introduced to Yamato, he is dressed in a way that gives him the appearance of a flat chest, and is wearing a mask to hide his face. He looks like a man in a cis-heteronormative way

When Yamato was depicted like this, he was (from what I can tell) mostly referred to with he/him pronouns by the fanbase. This is based on comments underneath his chapter debut and episode debut. There are comments under his episode debut that do use she/her pronouns and refer to him as a woman, but because these episodes have been out for a while, it would make sense that these kinds of comments would be left on his debut after his second design was revealed.

Then, when he removes his mask and outer layer of his outfit, he is depicted like this

After this reveal, more people began to refer to Yamato with she/her pronouns, and refer to him as Kaido's daughter, despite him referring to himself as Kaido's son, as well as the people around him using he/him pronouns exclusively for him. What changed? Well, Yamato went from having a design that looked traditionally masculine to having a more traditionally feminine one. As such people who associate only women with having breasts and more "feminine" features began to insist that Yamato was a tomboy, or a delusional woman, anything but accept that fact that he is a man.

There is a phenomena with trans "acceptance", where a character is accepted as trans only if they look like their gender according to the cis-heteronormative ideal, and questioned and denied if they don't. Kiku, a trans woman who "passes" as a woman did not receive nearly the same level of speculation and denial of her trans identity. (This is not to say that Kiku received no hate or transphobic comments, but that because she looks like a woman to the average cis-het viewer, she was treated as a "real" trans person, whereas Yamato was not).

Yamato has been repeatedly referred to as mentally ill for being a "non-passing" trans man. He has been called bad representation (despite large numbers trans men/transmasc people, myself included, saying that his IS good representation). People have made claims with no canon backing in an attempt to hand wave away his transness because he "looks like a woman", a popular one being that Kaido some how forced Yamato into being a man, despite his backstory telling us the exact opposite.

And the reasoning for all of this speculation is that trans people are held to such high standards in terms of appearance and presentation, even in fictional media. A trans man must have a flat chest, deep voice, facial hair etc. or he isn't actually trans. A trans woman must have breasts, a high voice, a lack of facial hair, etc. or she isn't actually trans. Non-binary people are dismissed entirely. This denies the many different and diverse ways that a person can be trans. Sure, some trans people wish to medically transition, get the "surgery" and go through life as if they were cis. But not all trans people want that. Gender is messy and complicated, its not nearly as black and white a we have been taught to believe. There are many trans people (both binary and non-binary) who will never medically transition. That does not make them less trans, it does not make them delusional. Yet because we have this black and white thinking ingrained in us from childhood, any deviation from the strict boxes of "man" and "woman" are immediately questioned, and that includes gender non-conforming people - both trans and cis.

This type of transphobia is not talked about enough, as the people doing it will so often hide behind the idea that they are protecting "real" trans people, and just want to make sure that they are respected and taken seriously. But, respect for a persons gender identity CANNOT be conditional. It does not matter if they "don't pass". It doesn't matter if they are a good person, a bad person. The second you start dictating who gets to have their gender respected is the second you stop being an ally. And that includes fictional characters like Yamato.

#one piece #one piece meta #one piece spoilers #wano arc #wano spoilers #yamato one piece #one piece fandom #transgender

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its-your-mind · 4 months

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ORV as shitposts 42/???

[Photo ID - 10 cropped screenshots from the ORV manhwa with text post pasted upon them.

The first image shows Kim Dokja wearing his white coat. The text post is by Tumblr user squeakitties. It reads, "*explodes into a shower of gore and when the red mist clears i'm completely fine but wearing a different outfit*"

The second image shows Jung Heewon with a large smile on her face while she points to herself in joy. A translucent Kim Dokja looks at her in shock from the viewer's left. The text post is by deactivated Tumblr user oamisoa. It reads, "I love it when people tell me about me because I have no idea who I am."

The third image is a close-up of Kim Dokja glancing at an indirect message from a constellation. The thought bubble above his head reads, "Looks like someone misread my intentions." Smaller text is on the side of the thought bubble that reads, "Uriel..." The indirect message reads, "[The constellation, Demonic Judge of Fire, is impressed that you are trying to put your fallen friend back on the righteous path.]" The text post is by Tumblr user neroinblack. It reads, "I like to hear their interpretations of the persona that I've shown them."

The fourth image shows Kim Dokja sticking out his tongue while Lee Sungkook and Jung Minseob are staring at a phone in Lee Sungkook's hands in shock. An indirect message is at the top of the image. It reads, "[The constellation, Secretive Plotter, is impressed by your shameless lies.]" The text post is by Tumblr user teaboot. It reads, "construction of the self through the eye of the other."

The fifth image shows Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja staring off toward the viewer. Yoo Joonghyuk is at the bottom left of the image while Kim Dokja is slightly behind him at the top right of the image. Two text post are pasted. The first one is by Tumblr user toastpotent and is above Yoo Joonghyuk and to the left (relative to the viewer) of Kim Dokja. It reads, "hey sweet heart!! hey dear!! *fucking decks you in the face* angel :)" The second text post is by Tumblr user ndiecity. It is to the right of Yoo Joonghyuk and below Kim Dokja's face. It reads, "Psst. Hey. Fucker. *Kisses you* idiot."

The sixth image shows Yoo Sangah holding Kim Dokja's arm in a semi-crowded subway car. Kim Dokja is looking at her in surprise with a speech bubble that reads, "Sorry?" The text post is by Tumblr user heavensickness. It reads, "Do you ever wanna bond with someone so bad you're like 'damn i wish we were knights on a dangerous quest.'"

The seventh image is a close-up of Kim Dokja smiling with his eyes closed. A message from "Junghyeok Yu" via Midday Rendezvous is above his head. It reads, "I'll get you back for hitting me." The text post is by Tumblr user antigonekin. It reads, "my beloathed. my insignificant other. my worstie. my stupid rabbit. my fucked up abhorrent little meow meow."

The eight image shows Kim Dokja wearing a dirty and torn shirt. His hand is outstretched as he smiles. His speech bubble at the bottom of the image is cut off, but what's visible reads, "Give me 5,000." The text post is the fortieth question from a quiz with two answers. The question reads, "I use the force of my personality..." The first answer is selected. It reads, "...to get what I want." The second answer reads, "...to guide others in making the right decisions."

The ninth image shows Kim Dokja staring upwards at a golden ball of light. The text post is by Tumblr user canimuff. It reads, "no offense but i'm literally starving for affection but when people give it to me i can't accept it as valid because i'm worried i've manipulated their perception of me by only portraying myself a certain way and feeling like this portrayal of myself is an imposter and makes me disingenuous and not deserving of the affection they give me."

The final image shows Kim Dokja drawn in a simplified way in the background running off with a sword in hand and a smile on his face. The background of Yoo Joonghyuk's head is in the foreground of the image with an anger symbol drawn on it. A spiky speech bubble under and to the right of him reads, "Why you...!" The text post is two tweets by Twitter user rem ?! @/exercexe. The first tweet reads, "you're in his dms i'm on his nerves." The second tweet is a reply to the first one that reads, "im pissing him off im ruining his day." /End ID]

ID by the incredible @incorrect-web-novels !!!

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscent reader #orv shitpost #orv textposts #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #joongdok #yoo sangah

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utahlive · 3 months

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Announcement

Hello UtahLIVE viewers, I have come before you today to talk a bit about recent events and how they will impact the future of this blog. Apologies this note is a bit long, but I would really appreciate it if you took some time to read this.

As I'm sure many of you know, within the past month Wilbur Soot/William Gold has been outed as an abuser. I want to make it clear right now that I no longer support him, nor do I accept his apology (mainly because it's not mine to accept in the first place). I stand with and believe Shelby and Alice 100%. This goes for any other victims that have or will come forward that I am unaware of, since I've been trying my best to stay offline. This aint about me!! But it's still hard when someone you look up to and who inspired you to create art turns out to be a shitbag. If you were somehow unaware of this, please go watch Shelby/Shubble's stream (VOD + transcript) and read Alice's post (and mind the CW/TWs) for more information.

This blog has brought me a lot of grief because of all of this. I do not want to support or perpetuate this man's image, but at the same time, I don't want to discontinue a story that I've put so much time and effort into. After a lot of deliberation, I've decided that I am going to continue this story until the end. I will also be adding a disclaimer in the pinned post, and I will no longer be tagging any of my posts from here on out with #wilbur soot or any adjacent tags. I don't think it's fair to myself or to anyone else who has enjoyed this blog to waste all the hard work that I have put in, because ultimately this is my project and my story, not his. If you disagree with this, I totally get it, but I ask you to just unfollow and/or block rather than sending me any hate because I promise you that whatever you say about me "supporting" Wilbur Soot by continuing this blog is something I've already considered myself. He is not (active) on Tumblr, he did not receive any of the money I got from stickers, I doubt anyone is looking at this blog and thinking "wow this Wilbur guy seems cool, let me go listen to his music and watch his vods".

Despite this decision, I'll probably still be taking a bit of time to myself to think about things and focus on school. Updates will likely resume in late March or early April.

I hope you can all respect my stance on this, and I want to reiterate how much I appreciate you all for supporting my work. Love you guys <3

#utahlive #4th wall break #dsmp #dsmp ask blog #dream smp #dream smp askblog #ask blog

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slvtforfiction · 7 months

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Who is most likely to? ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Colby X reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Established relationship

☆ Ignore how disgustingly horrible this is written I’m so sorry 🙏

☆ Suggestive (no smut)

☆ Masterlist

☆ A like reblog and comment is always appreciated:) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Colby 🖤:

Do you wanna be in a video with Corey,Sam,Me and Jake?

You:

Yeah sure what is it?

Colby 🖤:

Who is most likely to,it’s for Sam’s channel x

You:

Okay cool I’ll come to the living room now I’m just doing my makeup give me like 10 minutes x

Colby 🖤:

Okay cool nw see you in a min x

I walked downstairs after finishing my eyeliner and walked to the kitchen next to the living room and grabbed a drink of water.

Colby came up behind me whilst I turned the tap on,he rested his head on my shoulder,his hands wrapped around my waist. “Hey baby.” I said smiling and turning around,his hands cornering me against the sink.

“You okay?” I asked as he kissed my neck. “Mhm.” He smiled as he kissed me cheek.

I smiled walking over to sofa,holding his fingers in my hand after he had stopped cornering me and we sat down next to each other as Sam began the intro.

“Might be weird,might be a little sexual,who knows?” Sam said and I laughed along with everyone else as Colby watched me with a soft gaze as he laughed along,his gaze lasting a bit too long for viewers to think were just friends.

I grabbed a card first because I was at the end of the sofa and read it aloud, “Who is most likely to be the hottest dilf.” And I burst out laughing hiding my face and pointing at Colby.

“Definitely Colby I could see him with a kid on his arm.” I said confidently sipping on my water.

“Nah it’s gotta be Corey.” Sam stated as everyone else pointed at Corey,I felt embarrassed,being the odd one out but everyone knew about our relationship and wouldn’t hold it against me let alone make fun of me.

Colby soon after picked up a card and read aloud, “Most likely to fall in love with someone much older?” And immediately hands were pointed at me.

“Just because I like fictional dilfs,this is discrimination.” I gasped jokingly,holding in a laugh “That’s exactly why we pointed at you.” Corey said laughing.

“Bully.” I said under my breathe in fake rage.We swiftly moved on after I fought back for a while.

Corey then picked up a card and burst out laughing trying to read out his card in a fit of laughter.

“Most likely to admit their darkest secret when drunk?” He finally got out and my head flew into my lap as everyone pointed at me.

I thought back to the day people found out me and Colby were sleeping together,how did this happen? Well exactly that I told everyone whilst I was drunk.

I didn’t mean to and Colby quickly dragged me away and back to Colby’s apartment where I slept and then woke up with memories I didn’t want,texts I didn’t want to reply to,a hangover that made me feel like death was upon me and a not so happy boyfriend.

“Okay so this is unfair.” I said calmly lifting my face up and feeling the obvious blush present on my face.

It soon circled back to my go and I picked up a card,when Sam said it was mostly weird and a little bit sexual he was lying.

It was heavily sexual with much less weird things than probably intended. I picked up my card praying for it to be funny and I sighed.

“Most likely to have a secret sex tape?” I said before I accepted defeat that I was never going to get a vanilla card…and then I pointed to Colby.

“Why me?!” Colby shouted and I giggled to myself “Colby have you made a secret tape?” I asked calmly and he laughed shaking his head accepting defeat himself.

It was only me who pointed at him,Colby pointed at Corey whilst everyone else pointed at Colby.

At this point Colby had accepted defeat and so I had,however for different reasons.

“Most likely to have kids?” Corey asked and I replied “Oh definitely you.” I said without hesitation.

Corey seemed like the person to have kids and most people knew that he did want kids at some point.

He said he hates kids but in actuality he’s a huge softie <3.

After the video was over me and Colby went back to his apartment and laid on the sofa together whilst he edited and I watched love hard on Netflix.

“You really think I’d be a dilf?” Colby asked me out of nowhere. “Definitely,I can see it already.” I said honestly laughing a little to myself.

“Sure love.”

#Spotify #spotify #smut #song #romance #cute #fluff #sam and colby fluff #colby smut #colby x reader #colby brock x reader #colby brock smut #colby brock #sam and colby #sam and kat #sam golbach #arctic monkeys

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grapejuicestyless · 9 months

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The Grudge

Harry Styles x fem!reader

The second part to You’re The Winner.

ANGST

Summery: based off of the song The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo!!

Some nights I still wake up wet from my own cold sweat and salty tears. I rework the script I’ve perfected until my pen runs dry and the pages are crinkled. I scribble out each word and fix it until the cut is so deep it cuts more than just through the page, but to the reader.

I was never someone who believed in doing things so they were merely good enough. No, I always thought things through until they were at their very best points. Each sentence rephrased to make the viewer understand the concept of the conversation but to catch the deeper meanings and let it make more and more sense with each rewatch.

Now I lay awake, terrified of never being enough. Is my success nothing more than a false ego I have in my head? Do these awards that sit on my shelf hold any value if nobody could recognize them? If earning these doesn’t elevate me do they even count as a prestigious award?

I never had these issues, I displayed everything proudly. Aware of how lucky I was to be able to accept these awards so graciously. Body draped in the finest pearls and hair styles to perfection. I was excited to tell the stories when people would ask. Tell them about what I was working on, encourage them to follow their hearts. My insecurities were always just that, small thoughts littered in my head meant to make me doubt my self worth. Now they felt like more.

More than just metaphorical daggers stabbing into my body and mind. I wake up in distress from more than my own voices but his. I still hear Harry’s voice after all these months. It’s the sound of the insults I throw at myself, at everything I’ve done. It’s his voice I hear every time I think I am not enough. And what he had to say about my passions and how I execute them still lingers like a scar. I hold onto every detail of what he thought of me like my life depends on it and I break myself over and over again by finding deeper meanings in his playground insults.

The trust that he betrayed, confusion that still lingers. He took everything I loved, my confidence and my pride and crushed it in between his fingers. He could run circles around me with all his money and resources. He knows it too, be both knew it. I just never believed he would use it as a way to take stabs at me.

I still stay awake fantasizing about his little fucking sorry. How he was in tears when I finally pulled away. The shocked look on his face. I feel tough in the privacy of my room. Able to beat him up in my head and make him feel guilty but never to his face. I try to understand why he would do this all to me. I make up situations to lessen the blow. The fact it was unsolicited and simply something he chose to do for fun. Still, I can not let it go that easily. Not until every ounce of doubt is scrubbed from my mind and the voices in my head no longer belong to him.

……………………………………..…………………………………………

Sitting at the Oscar’s I find my place beside Greta Gerwig and Emma Stone. I feel out of place. I’m friends with them, I know them and their secrets. They’ve led me through the obstacles and the difficulties that come with trying to get into film making. They have been nothing but kind and reassuring over how great they think I am yet I can not push down the feeling that when the cameras flash to us I will be labeled the place holder to make the crowd look more full. No matter how lavish my gown is, no matter how nice my hair is I will never shine like the women who sit beside me. I will never stand out and make my name be known and it is something I can not come to terms with.

To rub salt in the wound I sit there and compare each category I am placed in to everyone else. I read out the nominees on the pamphlet they hand out like we are watching a youth theatre production of a marvelous broadway play. I barely make the cut for best assistant director. I read the names beside mine and I try not to get myself worked up.

I am not Greta Gerwig, I am no Christopher Nolan. I am Y/n Y/l/n. I am a woman who dreams bigger than she can possibly ever achieve. And I try not to get in over my head, but I always do. I strive to be the best and still I get trampled over.

I read the names over and over, flipping through the pages. I read the names under each category. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Adele…I think about if I should’ve taken up music. I can’t sing very well but I have so much to write about. I have so many feelings and so many things to argue that I simply can not relay through film. Not at my level anyway. Joe releasing it must be to put a pen to paper and just write whatever you feel because the darkest emotions write the best songs.

It’s the sickest joke the way the names continue to go down the line. The eleven letter name in bold italics with an invisible circle around it and arrows pointed to make sure I see it. Harry Styles is up for best original song. Not only that, but I’d heard it too. Stayed up with him while we wrote it. He was so sure it wasn’t good enough and I sat there supporting him.

I stayed awake comforting him while he cried over his million dollar piano. Tears ruining the ivory and the clear shine. How idiotic I was to have been so kind to someone who so easily tore me down like I was nothing more than a pawn to remind him of his greatness. I knew the song was beautiful. His name was golden among the others competing for such an important award. One that would recognize his talent and secure his name in Hollywood. A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t believe him then, I did now. I wasn’t some prophecy. I didn’t have a title to my name to prove. I was someone who got lucky once. My work was nothing compared to his.

………………………………………………………………………………….

They called the nominees for each category, listing off the winners one by one. We grew closer and closer to the major categories that would have the TMZ headlines buzzing by the morning. When it was my turn to be called, I couldn’t help but feel jitters and anxiety pass through my veins.

I’d heard about everyone else. All of their movies staples in my Friday movie night routines I had continued even without Harry there to occupy a portion of the couch. I laughed, I cried, I thought deeply about each movie. I couldn’t help but feel nervous that I was up against people so much stronger than I was.

My picture on the screen showcased my much more recognizable friends shaking my shoulders. We were unprofessional and excited to see how I could be recognized. They made me feel that even if I didn’t win, it was well worth it because the academy, as rigged as we all secretly knew it was, had chosen me of all people to list along with a handful of others. It was an honor for me to be here, beside my best friends and my hero’s.

The name that rang through the microphone didn’t match mine. It wasn’t even close, yet I felt fine. The hands slipped from my shoulders to clap along with the crowd. My photo minimized to showcase the woman who had rightfully won over me. Still, my shoulders were heavy and my heart sunk. How nice it could’ve been to go home with that. Be able to hold it up to the sky and thank my brothers and sisters for helping me get there.

Greta and Emma tried to make me feel better. Nothing hurt worse than working up an excitement only to have it ripped away from you. It worked, for a minute. How blissfully unaware I was that the categories grew closer and closer to the one that involved the one man I couldn’t bare to think about now. I barely registered the way they prepared the stage to announce his category until the talking turned to whispers and the softest sniffles echoed.

He looked handsome on the big screen. His hair was darker than I remember it being, I assumed he dyed it for tonight. His shoulders were broad in his suit and his face was cleanly shaven. If his eyes could speak they would be a jumble of words that expresses different emotions. He bit his lip and toyed with his rings. I caught him picking the skin by his thumb. I wanted to yell at him to stop, it was a bad habit we tried so hard to break. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I no longer existed as a best friend to him, someone else could place their hand over his and silently relay their own thoughts to him.

The sour feeling in my heart curtailed like milk when his picture took up the entire screen. The way he stood and hugged the people around him. He was surrounded by friends and family alike that supported him in ways I used to. If it were a few years ago, that would’ve been me beside him. His plus one to an event I was already attending simply because he was everything to me.

Watching him accept that award was the final straw. How he walked up to the stage in no rush, fixing his coat on the way and running a hand through his hair. He had a lazy smirk on his face that would make anyone weak in the knees. He looked confident and yet so grateful for everything happening to me. I felt confused by his attitude. How cocky he was in private, he was so good at masking the real Harry when it came to keeping a good public image. It was some kind of pathological lier type of bullshit that made my throat close and heart pound.

In his speech he thanked his mom and his dad. He thanked his sister and his friends. His ex-Bandmates and his producers. A full list of names, he went on and on and yet my name never came up. He thanked people who didn’t even know him on the crinkled piece of paper shaking in his hands. They didn’t know his favorite color, how he preferred his eggs. He didn’t like celery but he loved peas. Mushed, soggy, fresh. He would spoon them onto his plate like a mad man. They didn’t know he slept with his socks on because he felt scared something might try to grab at him at the end of the bed even now. He was childish in a mature way. Fears he carried form childhood that he couldn’t shake, they didn’t know that and yet they got the credit I deserved. I couldn’t do it then.

I could sit there and pretend to be tough, but I wanted to scream. I could sit there and say I was fine to everyone, be my professional self but I couldn’t act like it was okay anymore. To tear me down, to rewrite your past to fit the people who chose you based off fame and not on who you are, to get rid of what we once cherished was too far. I could put aside his harsh words for the sake of the night but his blatant disregard for my feelings after he’d cried over my leaving said enough.

When he left the stage I made my exit, mumbling something short of having to use the bathroom. My dress was short enough to not have to gather it between my fingers. I could walk quickly down the aisle and look at my feet on the way. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, even though they didn’t know me I felt that the look on my face would reveal it all.

The door opened harshly but had stoppers on it to silence any amount of force pushed on it. It made any angry outburst look accidental. The only indication that the door had been opened was the sliver of light the slipped through the opening of the main lobby and the dimly lighted theatre that held the greatest minds of film alike.

My feet hit the expensive carpet hard, heals digging into each design I wondered if my aggression would permanently dent the fabric, ruin the art in it.

It was colder outside of the room that I sat idly in, more free. The only people out here at this time were the few paparazzi permitted and stray employees cleaning up for the night. Flashes took my vision and I could see the headlines now.

How I would be bashed for simply showing my emotions. How they would paint me as a bitter sore loser who couldn’t even keep it together and act fine. I couldn’t blame them really. How would the world even know of how their favorite pop star had taken a hold of my heart and ruined any perception of love I had for him in a few short months.

The air outside was chilling. My skin was bare and in a way, in my artistic side of my mind I could pretend it was the literal way the world was showing how I felt. Tiny stabbing wounds across my arms creating goosebumps running up and down each exposed part of my body.

My car wasn’t there. I was out so early without warning, I became stranded not only mentally but physically. I didn’t care then. If I had to walk the streets of Los Angeles in high heals and an expensive gown. If I got mugged of all my belongings on my way home I didn’t care. I couldn’t be near anyone anymore. I couldn’t hold it together and I certainly wouldn’t fall apart for everyone to see.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement so quickly, I didn’t process the splashing of puddles or the heavy breathing approaching me. With my luck, I would already become a victim to a robbery before even turning the corner.

The hand on my arm came next. It wasn’t rough but it was firm enough to catch my attention. More than that, it was so familiar, so warm.

I felt the roughness of fingertips brushing under my bicep and the contrasting softness of his palm resting on top. His rings were warmed from his skin already, smooth against my body. I knew who the hand belonged to immediately. It was one I had held, toyed with and admired for years. One attached to a body that I adored, looked up to like a hero.

Turning, his eyes met mine. They were a darker green. I couldn’t see if from how far I was before, but he looked more tired, more sad. His eyes were dark not from anger or all the drinks I had hoped he was downing so he would forget about me, but because something was bothering him. Something heavy. He carried a lot of regret and sadness in his eyes that were once so free and careless. He seemed more calculated in his choice of words, more precise than his usual mess of sentences that came straight from his mind to his mouth.

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” I broke the silence, he was still catching his breath. He shook his head, looking down to gather himself. His pants were wet at the bottom from the pavement and his hair was falling in front of his face. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, but it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a place in his life anymore.

“I wanted to.” He confessed, searching my face. In my head I’d like to think my expression was stone cold. One that was heartless, expressionless. I didn’t care in my head, but in my heart I did. I felt my lip quiver, I felt my eyebrows furrow. I was an open book for Harry to read.

“Why? So you could fix things? Fix us?” I escalated things quickly. I didn’t want to play his mind games. He was brilliant, people didn’t give him enough credit for it. If I allowed him to sit here and apologize while I was already feeling vulnerable, it wouldn’t matter how sincere it was. I would accept it and cave and by the morning I would hate myself for letting my heart take over my brain.

“No, don’t do that. Y/n, you were the one who walked out on me. I tried to get you to stay, and I regret not trying harder and if I could go back I would’ve begged on my knees but that doesn’t change the fact that you still left. I care about you, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” His voice was sharp, desperate. It felt so real, everything he was saying. I trusted him completely. I understood what he was feeling. Some nights I wish I had stayed. I had just put up with it. It was all the talk of my undying love that I held for Harry. A friendship that may have turned into a small crush in my head without me realizing. My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge. The reason that forgiving and forgetting is so hard.

“Do you think I deserved it all? Harry tell me, please. Is that what you really think of me? As someone who deserved to be built up just so you could watch me fall? Is that what I was for you?” I begged him to understand what I meant. What I endured was verbally abusive, toxic, venomous. It killed me to know that my best friend thought so low of me. So poorly of the girl he swore to protect with all his heart.

“You know I never meant to.” He tried to defend himself, his hand loosened on my skin, falling down to hold my hand. His fingers intertwining in mine felt like tiny flames bursting out across my hand. It was so soft yet so hard, my body started to shake from more than just the cold.

“You are so selfish.” I shook my head, breathing in to look at the same bewildered face that looked back at me all those weeks ago. I remembered all the arguments I had won in my head against him. In the shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I remember all the things I didn’t say that I wish I had, all the ways I could’ve made him hurt like I had. It would’ve made me the smaller person.

The fact he looked lost about where I was coming from made it so much more difficult to not spill my guts to him there on the sidewalk. He made it so hard to not want to rip him apart with his oblivion and gaslighting tendencies. I doubt he even though about all the damage that he did.

“I just-I can’t wrap my head around how anybody could do the things you did so easily? You have everything and you still want more! You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy! I know it more than anything, I’ve lived it. Harry, hurt people, hurt people. We both drew blood but man, those cuts were never equal!” I didn’t touch him but to both of us it felt like I had slapped him in the face. Acknowledging his actions and mine that led us here made it so much more real, the end was so much more destined for our story. I tried to be tough, I tried to be mean, but still standing there after pouring out my heart and feelings I couldn’t help but crumble. A single cry tumbled from my lip. I shook my head and looked to the sky. Harry made no movement.

It was pathetic to be so torn after so much time apart. He should’ve held no weight in my heart, but he always would. He was the most important opinion in my life, even when he wasn’t present. When reworking scripts and giving direction, in the back of my head it became a constant question of if Harry thought it was enough. If it was good enough.

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” My hand ripped from his viciously. It burned the way we separated so quickly. His eyes were stuttering over mine, his mouth tried to move, hand digging through his pocket.

I no longer had time for him, not then not ever. He could pick me apart, rip my heart out and stitch it back together, point daggers at my deepest hurts but he would no longer get these reactions out of me.

My escape was the same as the last. Quick and panicked. My feet hit the pavement harder than before and my arms swung with so much force, I was pushing myself forward with each step. Farther and farther, I couldn’t find the courage to look back like before. I couldn’t stand to think about him crying again. My hatred for his actions could never compare to the love I would always hold for Harry. If he didn’t deserve me, that would be okay. But I could not live with myself knowing I made him cry again. Not even after what he did.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” Her hand ripped from mine so quickly that it almost burnt my skin. It was like a fresh wound opening to feel her leaving not only mentally again, but physically. How her touch would never be in mine again. How she no longer belonged to me, I no longer belonged to her.

Her words set in after a hesitating moment. She meant my speech. God, how could I have been so stupid? To not realize how hurt she must’ve been to be erased so easily from the narrative. Like the nights spent together and the laughter and tears meant nothing. The piano ruined and her shirt soaked by my tears. The shirt that was really mine. I wondered if she still had it after all this time. It always did look better on her than me. I would give her everything if I could.

I dug through my pockets quickly to find it, the crinkled piece of paper with all the names on it. All the words I wanted to say but knew I would stumble over in my own nerves if I were to win. My hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t grasp it in time. She was gone.

Something about this time told me that she wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t stop. Not even the most guttural cry could make her look back. I had hurt her over and over again. Still, I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was until the word held no meaning and sounded odd coming from my lips. Like it was no longer real. She owed me none of her time.

So I stood there by myself, in the light rain that fell over Los Angeles, wet and alone. My paper was wrinkled in my hands, creased and bent messily. I looked down at the handwriting that didn’t really look like mine. How even in my excitement to be nominated, the loss of Y/n was so heavy it was hard to do anything. The pen was too heavy. I couldn’t do anything I once loved without her support. I looked down at all the names. My mother, my sister. They weren’t even first on the list. The first name I had written down, Y/n Y/l/n. My best friend.

I hadn’t read it out because I thought she wouldn’t want me to. I didn’t want to take away from an important night for her. Steal the spotlight from her award I was certain she would win by placing her name onto mine.

I was so sure she would win. She would be happy and we could reconnect. I had watched the movie, I watched all of her movies. She was the best of us. Always a talented writer, always having a new idea to jot down. Her napkins were sketch pads and her notes app was a dictionary of her favorite books and inspirations for shots. I know nobody with a mind like hers, one as creative and brilliant. I’m not sure why I tore her down all those days. Made her feel worthless when she was one of the best things in my life.

Even after all of this, she was and would always be everything to me. I could try and try and try to forget her and erase her from my life but she would always carry a piece of me around with her. I would always have hints of her in my home, in my wardrobe. She was everywhere without even being there.

She was my best friend.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles #fine line harry styles #oscars #hslot harry #yn x harrystyles

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thewickedkat · 17 days

Text

long post incoming; meta enthusiasts may wish to digest this in chunks.

i am so completely exasperated with Laudna as of the latest episode. however, i temper that exasperation with my enjoyment as a viewer; indeed, i am feasting on the conflict, thinking finally, some good fucking food, because i think (and have always thought) that Laudna is terrifically interesting as a character and she presents wonderful opportunities for growth not only on her end, but as a catalyst for others.

that being said. the sword. how she handled it. how she handled her own trauma bubbling up, how she handled (or didn't) Delilah, how she handled Orym and Chetney and Dorian and the whole miserable mess she made.

it was selfish. there. i said it. you may disagree with me, i care not, but her course of action was terribly selfish and destructive.

i know many people out there have been likening her behaviour to that of an addict's (and there are many common factors there: the hiding, the lying by omission, the shame, the acquiescence to bad behaviour), but i think in some ways that to do so is reductive, and also removes agency from Laudna herself.

she is allowing her trauma to almost make her decisions for her, allowing it to define her, and she is not giving herself the opportunity to realise that growth beyond it is possible--or, perhaps, she does realise this and is simply too afraid to reach out and grasp it. i think even if Delilah weren't trying to subsume her, Laudna would still be self-sabotaging and self-destructive and still try to hide the parts of her she felt were undesirable; Delilah in many ways simply makes it easier for Laudna to do so and, if pressed, provides a rationalisation for Laudna's choices and actions (as in 'it wasn't me, it was her, she made me do it).

first and foremost, Laudna was a victim of heinous trauma, being murdered and then being put on grotesque display. then she was further traumatised in coming back from the dead and being forced to isolate herself from people for many years, with only Delilah's honeysweet venom dripping into her ear for that time. then she is murdered again as an object lesson for the woman she loves, then stuffed down so deep into her own psyche by the one who first killed her; she is fought for and brought back by her friends...who then seem to do little to check in with her, to make sure she is stable, or coping, because they each have their own baggage and oh by the way, the world is possibly ending. to be fair, there is little time for therapy and stability when you are literally running from crisis to crisis and trying to stop something you haven't even conceived of in your nightmares.

she feels dismissed, often, minimised, and she never developed healthy people skills or coping mechanisms (i am sorry but as much as i love Pâté, a dead rat does not a support group make). so she lashes out, has poor emotional regulation, and Does Crappy Things. so i also understand when she said 'what else have i to give, but myself?'

all that being said. what she did with Orym and the sword was fucking selfish. she is behaving like a child, as if she is the only one whose tragedies matter; she's playing Oppression Olympics, and can i just point out that Orym was the one to say 'i'm sorry' but Laudna never apologised for accosting him while he slept and hurting him? saying 'i didn't mean to hurt you' is not the same, because that implies that if she had not hurt him, stealing from him was perfectly acceptable and reasonable.

i don't believe her when she said 'i accept responsibility' because that means one must accept the consequences of their own actions, and right after she said that, she argued with everyone, told the oldest member of the Hells that he had no right to talk about loss to her, and then fled. that isn't accepting responsibility; that is mouthing platitudes in the hopes you will sway others to your point of view and when it fails, leaving in a huff like a child having a tantrum.

she didn't even bother to ask Orym why he kept the sword. she just tried to take.

Laudna often reacts from a place of fear: of pain, of more trauma, fear of inadequacy, of loss. all of these fears are valid. they are understandable, given all that has happened to her. but just because her fears are valid does not give her the right to make others pay for her emotional baggage. this is what makes her behaviour in ep 95 selfish. all of her actions in the back half of that episode are things she chose to do, and now she must sit in the mess she made. Laudna seems to be falling into the same mental rut that many victims fall into when their trauma isn't dealt with in a healthy fashion: they start fucking others over, as if being a victim excuses it. it does not.

and before others come for me, i say that as one who used to do the same fucking thing but i was lucky enough to have therapy. Laudna doesn't have that luxury--none of the Hells do. there simply isn't time to make space for any of their issues, not just Laudna's. Imogen is still wrestling with her mother; Fearne is wrestling with her parentage; Orym is just trying to keep his feet under him and do what he feels is right without betraying anyone he cares for (yes, including Laudna, shut up); Ashton is still trying to process the loss of Fresh Cut Grass (for gods' sakes, the crafting night was a fucking wake for the lil guy); Dorian just lost his brother and watched his friend succumb to a Betrayer God that turned her into a monster; and Chetney? Chetney is an old man who, i personally think, can pick his battles and knows how to compartmentalise better than any of these kids.

Laudna is not unique in that she has suffered horribly. no one is saying she hasn't, but her behaviour implies that she believes they are saying that. her actions imply she believes not only that she does not trust her friends (thanks, Dorian), but that acknowledging others' losses somehow negates hers. there just isn't time to healthily process any of this, which sucks. it does. i do think her friends love her, care for her deeply, and i think part of the reason they haven't checked up on her as much as they could is because a) they're afraid that her problem with Delilah is much worse than they thought (duh, it is); b) they can't fix the Delilah Problem right now even if they were qualified to do so (even Pike couldn't scour that bitch out of Laudna, she said as much); and c) they run the very substantial risk of wholly alienating Laudna if they press the issue too hard, thus not only losing an asset in the fight against the Vanguard and Ludinus, but also a friend and lover.

it's shit, all around, we all know that. but to pretend that it's okay she did what she did to Orym--or worse, somehow transfer responsibility from her onto him and make it his fault--is infantilising and disingenuous at best, and more than a little insulting.

#critical role #cr discourse #cr meta #laudna #orym did not vote for the leopard-eating face party and then wonder why his face got eaten okay #if laudna is a whole grown-ass woman in charge of her own destiny then she can own the consequences of her actions #she is not a soft uwu bean who can do no wrong for fuck's sake

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thenightfolknetwork · 7 months

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Hello. I'm, um, not entirely sure how to talk about this. I hope it's okay if I misspeak. I'm a human, right, so I think that needs to be clear more than anything, but I've been very involved in the creature community for years now. I live by a great big lake and I always liked to walk down the shore late at night or early in the morning, you know, just to try and get out of my own head, and one night ages ago I accidentally tripped over someone's jacket and twisted my ankle. It was a gorgeous fur jacket, too, not like any kind of fur I'd seen in a jacket before, but just stunningly soft and thick as Hell.

Now, of course I didn't take it, that'd be awful, but also I had just hurt myself in kind of a nasty way and so it wasn't like I had anything else to do but sit by the shore next to the jacket and waited, and yeah, a few hours later one of the lake seals popped its head out of the water, looked at me for a good long while, and then...well, I mean, you know how the rest of the story goes, I'm sure.

Anyway, it's been a few years now and I've become really close to this family. I didn't really know anyone in my town before meeting them and I'm not on speaking terms with my own folks, so in a lot of ways these people have become my family, and it's an honor that they trust me to keep guard of their cloaks and such when they go out. But I've got this problem, right, and it's just...over the years it's felt less and less like I fit in with other humans. All my friends are nightfolk now, my family hates me even more because they're bigots--in this night and age, can you fucking believe it--and it's just like every night I get further and further away from the shore.

I'm just scared because...I don't *want* to stop drifting away. I've had dreams of joining them down there in the lake, practically every night for months on end. I've tried doing research into methods of joining the community but I don't want to become a vampire, I don't fancy any lunar-aligned nonsense, nothing has felt right except selkies, but I can't decide if I'm just self aware enough that I need a push from an outside viewer to try and accept something I already know full well...or if no, actually, that little voice in my stupid head that won't go away that keeps calling me a fraud, an invader, an appropriator--what if the reason it's not going away is because it's right and I really don't belong?

Just...please be honest with me. Am I a complete asshole for spending hours every day trying not to just outright beg my family--sorry, chosen family--to help me sew myself a cloak, or is there something to this?

First of all, reader, please rest assured. As long as you are speaking from a place of kindness and a willingness to learn, you don't need to worry about using all the correct terminology. I always try to listen generously when people come to me in need, and I encourage our followers to do the same.

Unfortunately I can well believe that bigots like your biological relatives still exist. I'm glad you've been able to extract yourself from their hateful society, and have found comfort, support and kinship among the nightfolk.

You say there is a little voice in your head calling you a fraud, casting doubt on the validity of your feelings. As much as you might want to push it away and stop your ears, I want you to listen to that voice, just for a little while. Pay attention to the language it uses and what ideas it seems to have about the world.

And then ask yourself: is this my voice? Does that sound like me? Or does this sound like a last, desperate, wriggling remnant of the people I've worked so hard to distance myself from?

Every one of us is raised with a narrative, a story about the world and our place in it, and how we should treat the people around us. We're told that story by our parents, by our teachers and schoolmates, by television and books and a million other sources. The story is so vast and so all-encompassing, it takes an enormous effort to be able to see any single part of it clearly.

Imagine, then, how hard we have to work to realise some of that story is untrue, or harmful, fed by hatred and fear. To start untangling ourselves from the rotting, strangling roots of the story we've known all our lives, and start planting something new and fresh and honest.

It sounds to me like this little voice is one of those lingering strands of the story you were raised with – one where liminality is nothing to admire or strive for, and where you cannot be trusted to know your own mind, and your own needs. It's time to tell yourself a better story.

You've found people who honour you with their trust and who make you feel supported and loved, as you deserve. You admire them, and want to be like them. None of this sounds “stupid” to me.

This is not a decision to be taken lightly. By all means, take your time, and talk your feelings through with your family. But I think you already know what story you want for yourself, reader – and for what it's worth, I think the world will be better for its telling.

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

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I need more time to put my thoughts in order about tonight's episode, but my initial reaction is that I'm surprised by others' disappointment? I mean, I'm actually not that surprised because coming out stories are intensely personal with viewers all looking for/needing vastly different things from their media, but it just feels like a lot of what (I thought) Ted Lasso was trying to do has gotten lost under specific expectations.

Ted goes off on a long, ridiculous, borderline disgusting story at the worst possible moment? Yes, that's the point. For all my fun TedTrent theories, Ted is (currently) serving the role of the well-meaning, but often ignorant straight man. His function is to both provide the insight and warmth that he's known for - "Actually it does matter to us" - while simultaneously showing how this intensely heteronormative culture would react to a player coming out. AKA messily. If we got a perfect scenario where everyone was accepting and said exactly the right thing, that would undermine the problems the show is trying to acknowledge in the first place. The focus on Isaac's complicated anger and Ted's foot-in-mouth syndrome is just as important to this whole scenario as the club's overall acceptance and the fact that Ted immediately realizes that he fucked up: "I regret that." Ted Lasso is a feel-good comedy, so it's all couched in over-the-top humor, but I thought that was an important acknowledgement: your allies - straight or not, out or not - are likely going to react in cringe-worthy, imperfect ways and the important takeaway there is not that they're irredeemable people who don't love you, but that they're trying and you should gently correct them (as Colin does) and allow them to grow (as Ted does). Despite being an absurd fiction, Ted Lasso is working to write about this in a semi-realistic sense. Instead of a Perfect Coming Out Moment that makes all the queer fans (myself included!) squeal at how ~wonderful~ our beloved cast is for being oh so perfect, we get that realistic awkwardness, misplaced anger, and regret.

We cut away from Colin coming out? Yes, because he's already come out to us. I understand why fans would be disappointed in that, but I don't think it's fair to characterize the show as not allowing Colin to come out at all. That was the entirety of "Sunflowers." Rather than trying to fit Colin's big moment into a locker room halftime, the writers crafted a whole episode where he could grapple with that fear of being outed, be reassured, have a heart-to-heart with Trent, sit together on the monument, go out later in celebration... Ted Lasso made space for all that and, understandably to my mind, didn't want to rehash many of those same beats three episodes later, especially not when we need time to work through the intersection of Colin's story with everyone else. (Because despite this being a queer story-line about a queer man, the show is about the team. Colin's conflict was always going to expand into the rest of the cast.) No, we don't get to see Colin come out specifically to the others, but we did see him come out - both narratively by kissing a man and to Trent - and we see the team's reaction immediately after the fact. Making space for Issac didn't feel like it was cheating Colin to me, or focusing too much on the straight characters, because Colin's story has been a season in the making (plus some details earlier on). To say nothing of the fact that his hesitance about coming out is specifically because he fears the team's reaction... so why wouldn't we grapple with Isaac's negative reaction? We already know Colin's worries, we know what he wants, we see him seeking advice from Trent, we see him reaching out to Issac, we see that failing, and after all that his queer story-line is functionally at a stand-still until something else gives. Issac's explosion is what finally tips the scales.

Idk I don't think I'm explaining this very well because it's late and I only just watched, but I'm of the opinion that Ted Lasso did a lot of work in previous episodes so that they'd have space in this episode to do different work, which is smart. From a narrative perspective, Ted doesn't need to be the perfect ally because Colin already has a supportive queer mentor. "La Locker Room Aux Folles" doesn't need to try to balance Colin's emotional coming out with Isaac's internalized homophobia because "Sunflowers" already gave the audience so, so much, allowing the writers to both keep things on screen for our benefit and then later cut away for the sake of time. As said, stories like these are always going to be a hit-or-miss depending on what each individual fan wants and needs, but I think it's worth keeping in mind that Colin's story is not this single episode; it's all of them combined. Has Ted Lasso really not treated his journey respectfully... or did it just not try to check every queer story-line box in a single episode?

#Ted Lasso #Ted Lasso spoilers #Colin Hughes

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