historical drama/sitcom where two gay best friends (woman and man) get lavender married--and proceed to spend the Fancy European Honeymoon their parents paid for acting as each other's wingman
I ❤️ self-loathing characters, characters who struggle with monstrosity (either fearing or embracing it), characters who are so lonely, who have a gaping hole in their chest, who bottle up & repress their feelings, who claw their way up & have ambitions, who fall down & lose everything, who search for identity & purpose yet can’t see themselves outside of what others want from or expect of them, who are hurt & hurt others, who long & grieve, who lie & pretend. characters who are messy & flawed & human
“Allow Me to Demonstrate” aka Reviewer Husk has me at a chokehold, the way I screamed in my heart 😭 now here is a memorialized version of it beCAUSE ITS SO SOFFFFTTT IM DE C E A S E D D D D 🩷
oisín hakinvar my mind is spinning with thoughts of you. you’ve gotten buff over the summer maybe for your own sake, but if the talented and beautiful diviner you’ve had a crush on since that first history of glyphs class one thursday morning in freshman year notices your tats and says hey, then what a win! right? who cares if you feel like she’s hiding something? or she runs away from you. or your party rogue gets bossier and angrier and you feel like she’s hiding something for you too. you keep a low profile, get bored in the auditorium while your crush’s friends do all these crazy bits—they’ve been killing it helping their party cleric campaign for student president, by the way—and you’ve had the lot you have for long enough to know that especially when she doesn’t get what she wants, kipperlilly gets mad. now she’s mad enough to cuss her opponent out in front of both your parties and. well. you aren’t by any means inexperienced, but you haven’t saved the world thrice. so you try to deescalate before this becomes a real shitshow and you just. watch as these intrepid heroes all square up in their cleric’s defense. and maybe something nags at the back of your mind, of a fight, of giants and sweetness and a cable knit sweater stained with blood, or maybe it can’t because you can’t remember the truth, or maybe or maybe or then their rogue starts hissing at you? you’ve met him maybe once? anyway. with all that over, oisín! your crush, the literal elven oracle, says she thinks you’re cool! you catch her eye, or try to, while her friends aim her head your way, and despite that, or maybe even because of it, you ache a little for a friendship as comfortable and familiar as theirs. but you have the lot you have. so you send an apology through a pointed finger and walk away.
on principle opposed to describing art i dislike as 'masturbatory' because even though it's an alluringly contemptuous word to sneer it's impossible to reconcile with my pro-masturbation stance