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rosiesramblings · 2 years

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Distraction

Fandom: Stranger Things, reader fic

WC: 1.5k

A/N: This is one of those fics that I wrote cause I had to get some stuff off my chest and process through my feelings lol. Your girl got an official autism diagnosis in possibly the most reluctant way, so I wrote this to try and cope. Please enjoy!

TW: some slightly self-injurious stims, but not for long (just finger chewing)

You didn’t know what you were feeling.

Almost on autopilot, you slid your feet into some shoes and left your apartment, going through the motions of locking the door behind you and tucking your keys into your pocket before you set off on a walk.

“Given the combination of your scores on the cognitive tests and your self-described sensory issues and social deficits, I am comfortable diagnosing you with autism spectrum disorder,” the doctor’s voice echoed in your head as you tapped your thumb and pinky in a pattern against your sternum. Even with your issues interpreting tone, you could tell that he had not meant “self-described” in a good way. You were used to condescending doctors, but for some reason this one really got under your skin.

You brought one hand up to your mouth and began to chew on your fingers without thinking. The crunch of the fall leaves under your feet did little to bring you out of your head.

The next thing you knew, you were in front of Eddie Munson’s trailer. You blinked in surprise, then felt a rush of warmth as you realized your body took you to where you felt safe to process through things. The hand that wasn’t in your mouth reached up to tap on the door.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie greeted as he pulled open the door.

“I need a distraction,” you said, the words coming out half mumbled as you chewed on your fingers.

Eddie looked you over. “Sure thing,” he said, grabbing your elbow and pulling you inside. “Let me check your hands first, yeah?”

He dragged you toward the sink in the kitchen, and you saw Steve wave at you from where he was sitting on the couch, his hair a bit more tousled than usual. You froze, looking between Steve and Eddie with a furrowed brow.

“Am I…” you tried to think of a polite word for what you wanted to say. “Interrupting? Something?”

Steve’s face burned bright red as Eddie threw his head back and cackled. “Should have known - nothing slips by you, Y/N. But no, we were just about to watch a movie, you aren’t interrupting anything,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at Steve, “X-rated.”

“Are we that obvious?” Steve asked you from behind his hands, while Eddie pulled up your sleeves and examined your fingers.

“You are… not subtle,” you tried for a placating tone. “But if it makes you feel better, nobody else but Max knows.”

Eddie broke out into another round of laughter as he made sure you hadn’t broken the skin of your fingers, before squirting a dollop of soap into your hands and turning on the faucet. You dutifully scrubbed them clean, still feeling a little like you said the wrong thing. Drying your hands, you turned and followed Eddie toward the couch and sat down.

“Is it ok that Steve’s here, sweetheart? I can have him wait in my room or something,” Eddie offered.

You processed the question, before shaking your head. “He’s fine where he is.” Then you turned to address Steve directly, “But if you think it’s weird, keep it to yourself, please.”

Steve cocked his head at you, but you had already turned back to Eddie.

“You know what I have to ask, princess,” he said, throwing his leg over yours and straddling you. “Are you in any trouble?”

“No.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Is the problem that I am distracting you from time-sensitive?”

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“No,” you fixed Eddie with a look. “You’d know if I was, anyway.”

Eddie smiled, “Yeah, you can’t lie for shit. You ready?”

You bit back an anticipatory grin, “Yes.”

“Arms up, then. What’s your record, now?”

“Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds,” you said as you slowly raised your arms and put them behind your head.

Eddie rested his fingers against your unprotected ribs, not moving yet. “Steve, baby, keep an eye on the clock for us please.”

“Okay?” Steve said, confusion evident in his tone, but before you had time to dwell on it, Eddie dug in.

“Okayokayokay okahahahahhay,” you echoed, falling into giggles almost immediately. Your arms jerked once before they seemed to remember that they were supposed to stay up, which made you laugh harder.

“Okay? Okay, what?” Eddie asked teasingly, moving his hands down to squeeze at your sides.

“Ihihihi dohohon’t knohohohow,” you said, fighting desperately against every instinct that screamed at you to push in away.

“Mmm, that’s fine. All you have to do right now, sweetheart, is laugh for me.”

“Wait,” Steve said, and Eddie eased up for a second, scratching at your tummy as he looked over at him. “This is so fucking cute?”

Your face burned as Eddie giggled. “Isn’t she?”

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup,” you grumbled through your laughter.

“No, this is too precious,” Steve said decidedly. “You walked all the way over here cause you wanted Eddie to tickle you?”

“Fuhuhuck off, Harringtohohohohon, I’m not prehehecious, I am terrifyIHIHIHIHING, EDDIE, GOD,” you screeched as Eddie brought his fingers up to dig into your underarms.

“Oh yeah, suuuper terrifying,” Eddie snorted, spidering his hands across the hollows.

You didn’t even realize you were gripping your hair before Eddie was stopping. “Nope, none of that,” he scolded lightly, “You need something to grab, use the back of the couch, not your gorgeous mane.” He untangled your fingers from your hair and placed your hands on the couch beside your head.

“Sohohorry,” you said.

“All good, princess, just gotta protect that big brain of yours,” Eddie said before his fingers found the backs of your ribs, and you could no longer comprehend the English language. You’re pretty surprised that you didn’t shatter any glass, honestly, with how loud you screamed. Eddie focused on your worst spot, finding the spaces between your ribs that got you absolutely howling.

You put up a good fight, but in the end your instincts won and your arms came crashing down tight to your sides. Eddie gently pulled his hands back and got off of you, leaving you free to curl up into a ball.

“Ok to touch you?” You heard Eddie ask, and you nodded. His hand came to rest comfortingly on your shoulder.

A few minutes or hours later, you caught your breath and opened your eyes. You sat up and pushed the hair out of your eyes. "What was my time?"

"Five minutes and three seconds," Steve answered.

"Damn," you said, before looking at Eddie expectantly.

Knowing the drill by now, Eddie sat on the floor with his back turned to you. You sat down so that your back was pressed against his own, the resistance exactly the grounding pressure you needed.

“You ready to tell me what’s on your mind?” Eddie asked.

“If we’re getting technical, my skull cap is on my mind,” you quipped.

“Y/N.”

“I got diagnosed with autism.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment. “Okay. Is that all?”

“No.”

“What else?”

“I’m not surprised - about the autism. I’ve always been different. But I thought it would feel… better? More validating? To have a professional confirm what I’ve always thought about myself.”

“But that’s not what happened?” Eddie asked.

You hummed, distressed. “No. The doctor, he… it felt like something that he just said so that I would leave him alone. Like… like he just gave me what I wanted, because I was bothering him.”

Eddie hummed back, and turned around to face you. You looked somewhere above his left eyebrow, the closest you ever got to making eye contact.

“He sounds like an asshole,” Steve said, and you jumped. You had forgotten he was there.

“Most doctors are,” Eddie said, nodding sagely. “But, Y/N, I don’t think that’s what happened. He’s probably busy, and tired, and arrogant, but an autism diagnosis isn’t something people just throw around. I’m guessing you did some testing?”

“Yeah,” you said, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“And what did the tests say?”

“They… confirmed it. He said that combined with my ‘self-described sensory issues and social deficits’ was why he was comfortable diagnosing me. But he said self-described like it was a bad thing. And I think social deficits is a really rude way to put it.”

“I would agree with you,” Eddie said. “I think if anyone told me I had ‘social deficits’ I’d pop them in the mouth.” You giggled at that, and Eddie smiled proudly. “But really, Y/N, if anything it sounds like he was reluctant to diagnose you. He needed proof of three separate areas of life that this affects you, and only then did he give you the diagnosis. I don’t think you have to worry about it being invalid because there wasn’t enough evidence or something.”

“And anyway, Y/N, ultimately, whatever that doctor might think of you as a person doesn’t matter, because you got what you needed. You have a medical diagnosis. So now that doesn’t have to be a barrier in getting you any help that you need,” Steve concluded.

You thought about what they were saying, and began to tap your fingers happily on your knees. “That makes me feel way better,” you said shyly.

“Awww,” Eddie said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, Stevie, join the Validation Cuddle Pile.”

Steve laughed at Eddie’s antics but sat down obediently on your other side, mirroring Eddie’s position. You shivered happily and flapped your hands softly, thankful that your friends had your back.

#tickle fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader fic #steddie #ler!eddie munson #ticklish!reader #stranger things fic #lee!reader #tickling #tfb community #this was cathartic to write

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helenreddy · 2 years

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Passed down in hushed tones Told to steer clear of Uncle B Learned about rape before I Even learned what consent means

"I wanted to be a hooker" My mother said to me Speaking of her childhood dream that With luck never came to be

A mom at twenty-two, The father was her boss She barely even had the time To make up for her childhood, lost

"Hurt people hurt people" Isn't that what they say? With all the pain filling up her heart, She sure made me pay

I was touched as she was touched My body, she said, was hers Even to recount the acts Within me, emotion stirs

It took a lot of healing And fear and anger and rage But now I think I'm ready To break free of this generational cage

#my poetry #ok to reblog #this was cathartic to write #and honestly what i wrote about is just the tip of the iceberg #she really fucked me up and it took nearly 10 years to forgive her #we're still no contact but now i understand

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smilegirl64 · 9 months

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Inspired by this tumblr post, though the actual cuddling doesn't show up til the end.

https://www.tumblr.com/youneedsomeprompts/699464303996207104/cuddle-snuggle-prompts-requested-by?source=share

Soluna’s body trembled as she stared down at her arms. Scars. Why did they leave scars? Tiny white dots sprinkled across her arms like salt. Even her dark vitiligo wasn’t immune to those ubiquitous scars. She was a goddess, little needles weren’t supposed to leave marks. But that thought didn’t make them vanish. If anything, they just became more visible, phantom pains pulsing in her neck. Her breathing wavered and went shallow as the trembling worsened. The noises of the forest blended together into static as she became deaf to everything but her heavy breathing and her rushing thoughts.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her arms, distracting her from those white dots. Soluna looked up and saw dark skin and silver eyes framed by long, curly hair. Dark hands gripped the dark fingers of her right hand and the dark palm of her left. “Sweetheart,” Geara sat down in front of her, expression concerned as she squeezed her wife’s hands. “What’s going on?”

Soluna wordlessly extended her arms, showing Geara the dots that marred her arms. “Goddesses aren’t supposed to get scars.”

Geara’s lips quirked up. “Then what do you call this?” She pulled her hair back with her right hand, revealing raised skin on her temple.

Soluna leaned close, examining the scar. “Where did that come from?”

“I hit my head on a rock.” Geara made a hair tie out of a vine and tied her hair back in a high ponytail, as if to show off the scar. “Got pushed off a cliff and didn’t react fast enough.”

Soluna winced. “Sounds painful.”

“It was. But hey, I’m still here, and so are you.” She gripped Soluna’s shoulders, looking her in the eyes. “What those doctors did to you was unacceptable, but the scars are nothing to be ashamed of.” Her hand crept up Soluna’s neck to her cheek, and Soluna leaned into her touch. “They’re proof that you’re still here, with us…with me.”

“But…scars come from big accidents, like that fall or a giant battle.”

“Sure, but little things can lead to scars too, and that doesn’t mean they have any less of an impact. The phrase ‘death by a thousand cuts’ exists for a reason, love.”

Soluna sighed. “You have a point. I guess…I just thought I was unstoppable now.”

“Well, you’re not, and that’s okay. I’m sure not even Abyss himself is unflappable. You’re allowed to be hurt and feel it.”

A rock formed in Soluna’s throat as she teared up. She tried to swallow around it as her breathing started to waver again. Geara wordlessly wrapped her arms around Soluna’s neck, pulling her into Geara’s lap. A gentle hand with long fingers drew shapes on her back. Her body trembled as the dam cracked and a tear ran down her cheek.

“It’s okay, we’re the only ones here. I’ve got you.”

Those words were enough to shatter that dam. Soluna wailed as the shadows around them darkened, hiding them…protecting them. Tears ran down her face like an unstoppable flood as she buried her face in the crook of Geara's neck. A soft voice reached her ears, whispering encouragement on the wind.

"That's it, I'm here, I've got you…" Geara stopped drawing shapes on Soluna’s back, choosing instead to hold her tightly in an iron grip. "I'm not going anywhere…"

#Soluna #Geara #my characters #my writing #original characters #aftermath of torture #implied torture #implied use of needles #hurt/comfort #this was cathartic to write #because i have the same scars Soluna does #for very different reasons #fictional gods #insecurity about scars

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transmascissues · 4 months

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Songs sung in T voices? You mean just regular male voices because trans men are men

imagine being so miserable that you see a post about trans joy and pride in transmasculinity and the first thing you think is “i’m going to find a way to see this as transphobia instead”.

i have a t voice. my voice is distinctly different from most cis men’s voices in a way that a lot of other trans people’s voices are distinctly different after being on t. a lot of us have voices with a unique quality to them. the claim that me, a trans man with a t voice, talking about voices like mine somehow implies that my own gender isn’t real…is just fucking wild, honestly.

i think t voices are BEAUTIFUL. i love them so much, having my own voice sound like that was genuinely one of the things i was the most excited about when i started t because to me, that voice is the kind i heard when i watched videos made by other trans guys that taught me about what was possible for me and met other trans guys irl for the first time and got advice on transitioning or just life from them. it’s such a comforting sound and so important to me.

nothing about recognizing that distinctive quality implies that trans men aren’t real men. i have a t voice just like i have a deep voice, a quiet voice, a tonally expressive voice — it’s just a descriptor for one of many things that can make a voice unique. my voice is a “male voice” and it’s also a t voice because i’m a man whose voice has been affected by going on t in a distinctive way. the two aren’t in any way at odds with each other.

if i described my chest as a post-op chest, would you come into my inbox saying “you mean just a regular male chest?” i have a feeling you probably wouldn’t because on some level, even you get that talking about unique parts of living in a trans body doesn’t invalidate who we are. it’s fine if you personally wouldn’t want to describe your voice that way because it makes you dysphoric or isn’t applicable to your voice or isn’t as meaningful to you, but that doesn’t mean it’s morally incorrect for me to do so.

trans bodies are wonderful. visible (or in this case, audible) transness is wonderful. it’s not a bad thing to have features that are distinctively trans, and having those features doesn’t make you less of a man. we don’t have to reject our transness or be exactly like cis men to be real men because cis manhood isn’t the gold standard, it’s just one of many ways to be a man.

(also, not everyone who goes on t is a trans man, so not every t voice is a male voice. it’s funny how the people who get mad at me for being proud of my t voice are always the same ones who have really gender essentialist and binaristic views on transitioning.)

so no, i don’t mean “regular male voices”, i mean fucking t voices because that was a post about unashamed in-your-face proud transmasculinity, not transmasculinity that tries to make itself indistinguishable from cis manhood. please keep your assimilationist bullshit away from my trans joy, thank you very much.

#if there is one thing i will do its sit here at 5am writing essays in response to angry anons #is it a good use of my time? idk. is it a cathartic one? you bet.#anon hate #examples of transandrophobia #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia #trans men #transmascs

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marley-manson · 3 months

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the topic is Trapper and the army as foils, you have three hours, go

In no small part the satire of Mash, particularly in the first half of the show, is tied up with gender performance.

The army represents traditional, stifling and violent masculinity. This is shown through everything from freudian jokes about guns (eg Frank and Margaret's flirtations in The Sniper or The Gun), to Margaret trying to cajole Hawkeye into performing a more traditional standard of masculinity while treating him like a soldier in Comrades in Arms Part 2, to many jokes and comments about (usually) Hawkeye not being a real man in contrast to army standards and various specific army personnel (eg Lyle in Springtime, Flagg in White Gold), to Frank and Margaret's worship of the masculinity of the army ("He's twice the man you'll ever be," re: Flagg and Hawkeye, Margaret's lust for MacArthur, Frank pursuing the sniper in The Sniper in an attempt to be a "real man" in Margaret's eyes, etc) to many jokes positioning the military as a sexually aggressive man pursuing Hawkeye ("Sure, the sun the moon the stars, your high school letterman jacket. Same deal I promised nurse Baker." "A receipt please, and promise you'll go out with other doctors," etc.)

In contrast, the main characters all fail to perform traditional gender in some way, from crossdressing to immaturity to indecisiveness to peacefulness to Margaret's masculinity and Frank's pathetic failure to live up to his own masculine ideals, to just about everything about Hawkeye. His cowardliness, his jokes about not being a real man, his jokes about taking the feminine role in sexual encounters with men and women, even multiple double entendres about his average at best penis size.

Trapper is the most traditionally masculine of the main cast. He still subverts masculinity in some subtle ways here and there, such as the occasional feminizing joke and mentions of not being in great shape, but overall he's the more butch counterpart to Hawkeye's fem. He plays the role of boxer while Hawkeye plays the role of diva in their respective manager/star roleplaying episodes. He's broader and buffer and plays football, often seen playing catch with someone while walking around the compound, while Hawkeye disdains sports and doesn't participate. He reads Field and Stream which Hawkeye derides in Alcoholics Unanimous while making a wry comment about shaving his armpits. A past lover nicknamed him Big John.

And there are many, many jokes about Hawkeye and Trapper being sexual partners. The recurring Uncle Trapper and Aunt Hawkeye gag, if my father sees this you'll have to marry me, for me? only if you put those on, your father and I will tell you what we did to have you, that's when I fell in love with him, etc etc etc. It's constant. In these jokes Hawkeye usually takes the feminine role, though not strictly every time ("Me and the missus," is one exception in As You Were, the dance in Yankee Doodle Doctor is another).

Trapper's masculinity is differentiated from traditional military masculinity in a few ways. Most obviously, Trapper abhors the military's violence. He never uses guns and mocks Frank's obsession with them, he's a healer rather than a soldier, and he's disgusted by the results of military violence on the men on his operating table.

He's also secure in himself. The military's brand of masculinity is strongly characterized by insecurity and overcompensation. Frank is the main representative of this military insecurity - a coward who insists he's brave (The Army Navy Game), a man who clings to a phallic gun to compensate for his sexual and gendered inadequacies (a main theme of The Sniper, perfectly mirrored when the army itself comes in with a vastly disproprotionately powerful automatic machine gun on a helicopter to shoot down one sixteen year old), a homophobe repressing his own attraction to men (As You Were, the original script of George), etc. We also see this in Flagg, who implicitly sublimates sexual urges into violence (seen when he suggestively caresses his gun while describing how he wants to torture a boy in Officer of the Day).

Trapper doesn't need to overcompensate. He's well-endowed physically, he's portrayed as a competent and considerate lover, he's a brave man who doesn't mind being seen as a coward, and he may or may not be attracted to men but either way he's not a homophobe (George) and he doesn't express his sexuality through violence. When Margaret proves herself stronger than him, his response is to be impressed rather than offended (Bombed). When he dances with Hawkeye for a gag, he doesn't mind letting Hawkeye lead.

He's also differentiated in terms of tradition, with the mliitary representing a more propagandic 50s traditionalism, and Trapper representing a 70s, countercultural freedom from tradition. We see this in the way Trapper has plenty of sex despite being married, while adultery is a court-martial offense in the military. It's notable that he's open and carefree about it, while Frank and Margaret are surreptitious and hypocritical in their affair. This lack of traditionalism is also shown in his disrespect for authority, often in direct contrast to Frank and Margaret's worship of it, and his allyship to George who the military would persecute for his sexuality.

So ultimately we can see that while Trapper and the military are both examples of masculine performance, Trapper's masculinity differs from the military's in being more flexible, less violent, less traditional, and more secure. The military's masculinity is far more toxic than Trapper's, particularly in the context of 70s counterculture media, which aligns womanizing with sexual liberation rather than a lack of respect for women, accurately or not.

This contributes to their respective dynamics with Hawkeye.

Hawkeye, we've established, is usually more feminine, and there are a myriad of jokes characterizing Trapper as his sexual partner, as well as the military as a sexual pursuer.

The jokes Hawkeye and Trapper make about their relationship tend towards cozy domesticity. They're Radar's "aunt and uncle," they directly roleplay marriage ("Martha, we're going to have to move, the people upstairs are impossible,") and less directly behave as though married (the bickering in Alcoholics Unanimous, the discussion about naming their pony in Life With Father). Occasionally they're treated as a healthy couple in contrast to Frank and Margaret's toxicity ("While I'm gone, promise you'll go out with other doctors," vs "Touch anyone else and I'll cut off your hands" in Aid Station).

In some instances the jokes lean towards predatory - "If you're trying to get me drunk, it'll work," or "Who is this man in bed with me?" "I followed you home from the movies," but they're always playful, always fond. If Hawkeye takes on a submissive or victimized role in these jokes, it's one he has fun with and discards just as easily in the context of the rest of his relationship with Trapper.

So, it's important to note that Hawkeye and Trapper support each other and look after each other in an equal, enthusiastic friendship. From Trapper ensuring Hawkeye gets to sleep in Doctor Pierce and Mr. Hyde, to Hawkeye supporting Trapper when he wants to adopt a child, to Trapper right at Hawkeye's side as they attempt to procure an incubator, they are there for each other every step of the way. If their relationship is a marriage in some ways, it's a healthy, strong, and non-traditional marriage, an equal and open partnership free of jealousy and insecurities.

Compare that to the military's relationship with Hawkeye. In jokes it's characterized as powerful and predatory, far from an equal partnership. Sometimes it approaches positive - in Carry on Hawkeye, much of the humour is derived from Hawkeye and Margaret's gendered role reversal as she assumes military command of the unit. Hawkeye playfully calls her sir, seductively lies on her desk like a secretary in a porn film, and most notably treats an immunization shot as sexual penetration in a prolonged gag about sexual role reversal. Hawkeye has fun playing a sexually submissive role to a representative of military authority in this episode, but it is a submissive role.

Several of the one-off jokes have a similar sensibility, such as the double entendre of "My bellybutton's been puckering and unpuckering all day," in response to a representative of MacArthur assuming their excitement over the general's arrival to the unit, or Hawkeye's "Okay, take me, I'm yours," to Colonel Flagg. They demonstrate a willingness to play the receptive role on Hawkeye's part, but they also, pointedly, disturb the object of the jokes.

When Hawkeye makes these jokes that sexualize military authority, he's attempting to be provocative as well as defiantly drawing disruptive attention to his own powerlessness as a drafted surgeon. The power dynamic between Hawkeye and the authority of the military only goes one way, and Hawkeye gets a kick out of pointing it out in ways that perturb the representatives of that authority, but it's a power dynamic that takes its toll on him.

Many of Mash's plotlines revolve around Hawkeye rebelling and attempting to seize some scrap of agency back from the military. Adam's Ribs, for example, in which he starts a mild riot over the food he's being fed and spends the episode attempting to procure barbecue ribs from Chicago (which Trapper procures for him), or Back Pay where he tries to charge the military for his forced labour. A particularly notable example is Some 38th Parallels, in which Hawkeye complains about being paid the equivalent of a nickel per operation, and his frustration manifests in impotency until he can perform a gesture of rebellion against the military.

One unfortunate consistency of these episodes is that the army ultimately retains its power. When Hawkeye achieves his goals, it's only in small ways that do little more than satisfy his own need to assert his sense of self. Often, Hawkeye doesn't achieve his goal at all, but is thwarted by the army, such as in For Want of a Boot. In every instance he remains powerless in comparison to the authority of the military.

So the context in which Hawkeye makes these sexualized jokes about the military literally fucking him is one of abject helplessness. In a sense, all he's capable of is pointing out what the military is doing and putting it in his own, audacious terms. He's not capable of preventing it. His jokes usually have an edge of bitterness to them in delivery, and when they don't, that tone is imparted anyway by the greater context.

With Trapper, Hawkeye can play-act a marriage or an assault, but in either case he's an enthusiastically consenting, equal partner. Trapper's performance of masculinity allows for Hawkeye to take any role from victim to wife to husband, and enables Trapper to respond in kind from a position of equality and respect. The military, in its insecure, domineering performance of masculinity, is a dictatorial authority, never allowing Hawkeye perform any role but a feminized, victimized one, and only ever giving him the choice of whether to perform with a wry smile or a sneer.

In short, Trapper is the cool, considerate service top to the military's insecure domineering boyfriend.

I'm tagging everyone who enabled this lol, share the blame. @beansterpie @majorbaby @professormcguire @rescue-ram

#mash #this was dumb but writing it was somehow cathartic for me lol #i should've done this with frank and hawkeye as foils wrt subverting masculinity bc i think that would've been much easier #but i got caught up in this honestly. it's incredibly fun to write this kind of shit #maybe i'll post a round 2 sometime #marley on mash #ship ht #mash gs #and like... it's a little bit parodic but also sincere to an extent lol. this is absolutely one way of reading all the freudian #undercurrents in the show. it's definitely silly to contrast trapper and the military to make a point about how the show depicts #masculinity especially for like 1800 words lmao but it's a very fun angle #trapper mash #hawkeye mash #long post

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carmyboobear · 1 month

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Idk if you've written this but can you write about carmy and the reader arguing and he makes her cry? Idk I just feel like thatd be good angst fluff lol

AHH I got carried away as per usual. anyway this is good stuff. wrote a bunch. enjoy!!

word count: 1.3k

tags: traumatized carmy, mentally ill carmy and reader, arguing, language, HURT/COMFORT, ANGST/FLUFF, carmy being a sweetie

Hm…i'm spending a lot of time thinking about the set-up for this. Carmy is a very careful person when it comes to those he’s romantically involved in, but at the same time, he has a hard time controlling his temper when he's in the darkness, as i'll put it.

here's something awful i think about that i wanna write about. carmy's stressed about work, because of course he is. he's carmy. his head is whirring, spinning with anxiety and self-hatred. i think you're just like him. mentally ill for mentally ill if you will. you're also in a bad mood, and he comes home from The Bear exhausted and keyed up.

“I hate when you push me away like this,” you admit. You've been trying to get him to talk to you since he's been home. Maybe he just needs space, but separation makes you anxious. Especially when he shuts down.

“I'm sorry that it's so hard for you,” he spits, finally snapping and turning to face you. You've followed him into the dark bedroom, lit only by the harsh moonlight through the window. You flinch. You never quite get used to seeing him like this.

“I—I just—“ you feel pressure beginning in the back of your eyes. You will it away. “How can I help you if you don’t talk to me?”

“Why do you care so much? Does it make you feel better to take care of someone more fucked up than you?” He snaps, voice raised. His words go down bitter, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. Something in you shatters.

“How could you ask me that?” Your vision’s gone hot and blurry. “I’m your partner. I love you, that’s why I care, you asshole!” You’re stifling sobs. You hate crying in fights like this, but it hurts. You can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Carmy mutters under his breath. He’s gone still in your blurred vision. “Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—“

“That was so fucked up, Carmy.” You move to sit on the bed, trying to wipe your tears away, but they keep coming. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what my problem is.” His remorse has swept away the anger, leaving him quiet before you. He leans down at your knees, hands on your thighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Carmy nods quickly, and he raises a hand to your wet cheeks. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

“I know.” He takes your pain, your anger in its entirety. His other hand brings your knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.“

“Sure sounded like you meant it.” Anger flares up in your chest, hurt and betrayed, but you tamp it down, leaning into his hand cradling his face. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Damnit, Carmy.”

“I know. I know.” He’s still kissing your hand. “You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.” You hate it when he talks like this, because you can tell he really believes it.

“Don’t say that. Please.”

“But it’s true.” You look down at him in the moonlight, at his sad blue eyes. “I always find ways to hurt you. I…”

“That’s what being in a relationship is, Carm.” You pat the space next to you. “Sit with me?”

“I keep having to remind myself of that.” He sinks into the bed next to you. “I’m so sorry for talking about you like that. Like you’re only doing this out of…I don’t know. Obligation.” He drags a hand across his tired face. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I just, I just think that—that I’m—fuck—“

“Slow down, Carm,” you say quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to force it. I’m listening.” He smiles bitterly at you, and you recognize the love in it easily. He takes in a deep breath before continuing.

“I still have a hard time believing that anyone cares about me. I can’t even believe that you—love me.” You can practically see the shame rolling off of him in waves. “And it makes me scared.”

“Love is scary, isn’t it?” You say softly. He just nods. “It scares me, too. That’s why I kept pestering you when you got home. I…” You blink quickly. You don’t wanna cry again. “It scares me when I don’t know what you’re thinking. Because…I dunno. It just does.”

“Yeah?” You nod. He has this thoughtful expression that he holds for a moment as he stews on your words. “I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry. I think…I think when you kept asking me if I was okay, it…” he sighs, scratches at his temples. “I felt like I was…getting back into a corner. I think.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” You take his hand in yours. “I can see how that must’ve felt really bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that I’m like this. I think—I think it just reminded me of my mom. We would always ask her if she was okay, because she’s fucking crazy, yknow? We didn’t wanna step on her toes. But it turns out we did anyway. And the way I acted just now, I was just like…” He can’t even get the words out. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, voice choked with emotion. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“You tell me everyday. How could I not?” You pull him into a hug, tight and warm, and he instantly wraps his arms around you. “You’re not your mom, Carm. You're nothing like her. Okay?”

“I don’t wanna be like her,” he whispers. “I don’t wanna be like her.”

“You’re not,” you remind him softly. “And you won’t be.”

Carmy leans back to look at you, but he remains close. His expression is knotted with pain. You run your thumb over his furrowed brow, and it makes his mouth curve upwards in a smile. It’s fleeting, but it was there.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ll try to open up more. Let you know what I’m thinking.”

Suddenly, you think about when you first started dating Carmy. He was so scared to open up to you emotionally, but with gentle prodding, he fell apart instantly. There was a hunger in him to be known by others, to be seen by you, and it scared him to death. You see that same fear in him now, but you also see how much he’s grown since then. You doubt you would’ve been able to have this conversation at all in the first couple months.

That makes you happy in a way you’re not quite able to word properly.

“Thank you. But I hope you also know I don’t want to force you. I just wanna help. And…” You measure your words carefully. “I’ll try not to let it freak me out so much. Because if you’re not in the mood to talk, I want you to know that’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay. I’d like that. If I don’t want to talk, I’ll just tell you. Instead of…blowing a fuse.” He laughs dryly.

“I’d like that too.” You let out an exhale of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. “Wow, Carm. Look at us. Communicating!”

“I know.” That makes him laugh for real this time, and you’re laughing too. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I think you could. But I certainly like doing it with you.” His smiles grows wider at that, brimming with affection.

“Let me make this up to you, baby.” He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep. You let out a little noise when his lips meet yours.

“Make it up to me?” Carmy’s tongue is on your neck now. Oh. “Aren’t you tired? You—you have work tomorrow—?”

“Don’t care.” You fall back onto the bed, and the blankets deflate under you. You stare up at Carmy, his curls hanging by his face. “You’re more important.”

“Well, if you insist…” You giggle, and your giggles get louder when Carmy pulls up your shirt to blow raspberries against your stomach. “Carmy, quit it—oh—!”

He makes it up to you in full and more by keeping his head between your legs for the rest of the night. By the end of it you can't remember what you were mad about in the first place.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my blurbs #my asks #AHH.... started writing this thing this morning and then i got massively carried away. typical #anyway today was a carmy day for me (derogatory) so writing this felt pretty cathartic

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ghouljams · 8 months

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Alright!! Here's the end of the first act of the Medieval AU, in which I hit poor reader with a stick multiple times and Knight!Ghost makes it better.

TW: this handles some stuff around sexual assault/sexual trauma, virginity politics, and period typical misogyny

You’ve always thought of sex as something that will be forced on you. Dreading your marriage night has become the norm for you. Even before Ghost came into your life. Though after his entrance it came to mean so much more than just an unpleasant night. It’s losing Ghost, losing the spare hope that somehow you could be his. Because you think if it was with him it might be nice. The way he touches you, the way he takes care of you, he’s kind, terribly so. He’s good to you, he’d be good to you.

Ghost presses his lips against yours, gentle pressure you instantly crave more of. He turns your head to kiss your cheek, your jaw, to press his nose against your pulse and breathe you in. His fingers in your hair direct you as he likes, and you’re more than willing to let him. Your eyes are heavy, everything wonderfully soft and ever so slightly out of focus. You run your hands over his bare shoulders, feel the firm muscle, trail them up to feel his jaw as he kisses your neck.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispers to you, his voice low in your ear. Your stomach clenches, your skin prickling with heat. Ghost’s hands are so gentle with you, exploratory as they run down your sides and up your stomach. His lips follow them over your chest, making you squirm and press into his touch.

“My lady,” He presses his words into your skin. His, you think, just his for as long as he’ll have you. No one matters like him, no one holds you like him, keeps you like him. You want him to keep you. You want to be his, greedily, you want him to be yours too. It’s not a quality you’re supposed to have. You aren’t supposed to want like this.

You aren’t supposed to dig your fingers into his shoulders, not supposed to let your legs fall open when he nudges his knee between them. “Just like that Princess,” He tells you, his voice raspy in a way that makes heat bloom over your cheeks, “spread your legs so everyone can see what a selfish little whore you are.”

Your head is jerked to look at the crowd of shadows gathered around you, their eyes so wide and watchful you don’t know how you didn’t feel them raking over your exposed skin before. You feel panic well in your chest, grabbing the sheets quickly to try and cover yourself. You scramble away from Ghost and he lets you, hardly bothered by your rapid breaths or the tears quickly gathering in your eyes.

“They already think you’re ruined,” He doesn’t sound like Ghost, voice cruel and taunting, “All because you value a knight over the only thing you’re good for.” His eyes aren’t Ghost’s, the shifting and changing shape and color, his face flickering through your previous suitors. “He won’t want you anyway once you’re sold, he doesn’t even want you now,” His hand grabs your cheeks between rough fingers and you push at his face- their many faces- you don’t like this, you don’t like this, you don’t- “Are you really so stupid as to think he’d protect you from your husband. This is your duty princess, and his is not to interfere.” Their hands push between your legs.

Your sobs shake you awake, heaving, trembling things. You scorn propriety and wail. Let the whole castle hear you, you don’t care. You’re a horrible princess, a terrible, selfish, greedy thing that hardly deserves the title. You know all of this, and yet you still sob because you want Ghost. You want your knight, you want the man that’s slowly leading you to ruin. The man that’s planted an altar of thorns around your heart and laid his kindness upon it like a lamb to slaughter. You want him to hold you and tell you it was all lies. That he wants you like you want him.

You sob, feel the fat tears roll down your cheeks and fall on your blankets. You sob, feel it scratch your throat raw, your chest barely expanding enough to compensate for the despair that rattles out of you. One of your nightly guards comes into the room to check on you and you scream at him. Force the sound out of you like a banshee until it rips your vocal cords. You hope it shreds them.

What a picture you’d make then.

What a picture you must make now.

The guard leaves in a hurry, apparently having deemed you safe from external threats, but mad enough not to stick around. It feels good to scream. You do it again, and again, curling in on yourself as you clutch your pain to your chest. The world can fall away like this, leave you to your self infliction. Who cares. It’s all bullshit anyway.

"How long has she been like this?" The voice is furious, unfamiliar. You’ve never heard anyone that mad in your life. You can barely hear the reply over your hiccuping sobs. You don’t want people in your room, you don’t want them to see you like this. Not when you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. Some part of you is still clinging to decorum even now. How well trained you are.

“Get out!” You shout, reach behind you to grab a pillow to throw blindly at the intruder.

Big warm hands grab you and pull you from your misery, wild brown eyes dart over you searching for injury. Ghost pushes your hair from your face, and you scream at him the same as you screamed at your night guard.

He’s not wearing his mask, in the back of your mind you wonder if he came here like that. He pulls you against his chest, presses your face to his shoulder to stifle your screaming. His frame curls over you, shielding you from the world you were trying to drown out. You can feel the rapid expanding and contracting of his chest, his breath quick, as he drops his head to your shoulder. You wonder if he ran here.

“I’m sorry I was late,” He tells you, and you fall apart again.

The way you shake and curl up in his arms, guarding yourself against whatever hurts you, breaks his heart. His poor love. Ghost wraps his arm more tightly around your shoulders, holds the back of your head as he turns to kiss your temple. “You’re alright,” He whispers, “I have you, you’re safe.” Your sobs feel like a full body effort. Each one wracks your chest and forces the air from your lungs. He can feel your tears soaking through his shirt. God, you- you’re safe. You’re safe.

He repeats it to himself, presses his lips to your cheek, your shoulder, keeps you held as tightly as he dares. He’d seen the maids running from your room for the court physician, and assumed the worst. Assumed you’d been screaming due to some grave injury, that he’d find you bloody, and- But these were just tears, anyone should have been able to help you through your tears. How long had you been screaming alone? How long had you been left to deal with your pain while others whispered about sedation?

Ghost feels his anger bubbling again, feels the hot licks of fury against his ribs as your sobs settle into gentle hiccups. You don’t need his anger right now, but it will come. Later. Now he does his best to keep his voice from shaking, to keep it gentle for you.

“Tell me what happened.” So that he can take his revenge on whatever hurt you.

Your breath shudders. “You let them touch me,” you sob, your hands desperate where they hold onto his shirt. Ghost’s heart stops, he feels his grip on you tighten more than wills it.

“Never,” He growls, forcing himself to look at the remaining staff in your room, “No one is coming near you.” It’s a threat, he means it as a threat. He’s never felt more dangerous than he does in this moment. Never felt more sure of his own deadly precision. At least your court lady is smart enough to usher the rest of the nervous onlookers out of the room. “Who touched you?” He watches the door shut tight, tries to keep the anger out of his voice. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to touch what was his?

“I-” You hesitate as Ghost slides his thumb against your tear stained cheek, “I want to be selfish.” Your poor hoarse voice, he’s almost willing to let you change the subject when you sound like that. Screamed yourself raw, and they all let you.

“Who touched you princess?” He asks again.

“No one,” Your voice raises and breaks without your willing it to.

“No one,” Ghost repeats, feeling his shoulders drop with relief.

“What would you do if they did?” You ask him, and he knows exactly what he’d do, “Nothing.” Ghost stills. “You’ll throw me to my wedding night the same as the rest. Give me up as is your duty and ask me to forget every time you’ve touched me. How can you ask me to forget that, when every time I touch you I ache for the next time you’ll let me close? How can you hold me like this before you throw me to the wolves?”

Blood rushes in Ghost’s ears, his breaths short as he listens to you swallow your heart. No. He’s not so noble as to give you up like that. He imagines it, how chivalrous he’ll be letting you go. But he knows. He’s not a noble man, not kind, not half as honorable as he pretends to be. He can’t leave you in anyone else’s hands. No one else can have you, no one deserves you. Not when they’ll let you scream yourself hoarse. Not when their first thought is to sedate you in your grief. No. He knows.

He’d kill your husband before he ever reached your wedding bed.

He tips your head back and kisses you. You all but melt against him, your soft lips wet with your tears, sweet and salty. And warm. You’re so warm. How could he ever delude himself into thinking he could give you up? You’re right. You slide your lips against his with a sigh, and all he can do is ache for the next gentle kiss you give him.

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #knight!ghost #princess!reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #medieval au #when you only hear about how awful sex is and how it's your duty to give it up #you tend to develop some complicated feelings about it #I was explaining this whole chapter to my therapist and she was like #woah and people like when you write this?#no but it's cathartic for me so I'm writing it anyway

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moonyinpisces · 8 months

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puttin’ on the ritz by moonyinpisces

rating: E wordcount: 10.1k TAGS: crack, smut, humor, roaring 20s, new york city, demonic temptation, very very silly complete

#<333 this is literally a crack fic. do not expect much from this #so so so cathartic to write #love writing the boys absolutely stupid #good omens #good omens fic #good omens fic rec #smut #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands #azcrow #moonyinpisces writes

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varpusvaras · 14 days

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There's someone with Fox.

Rex squints his eyes. There's a small, dark-haired woman standing next to Fox. She is looking up to him and saying something, and from the downwards tilt of Fox's head, even with his helmet on, Rex knows that Fox is saying something back.

She looks awfully familiar, but at the same time Rex knows that he has not met her before. It's a somewhat paradoxical feeling, but she's so familiar that he would know if he had ever seen her before this.

He watches them for a while, but mainly her. She is tiny, in both height and overall stature, and she is wearing comfortable, yet high-end clothes. Rex has spent enough time with Padmé by now to recognise when something has been made with enough care and money. Her hair is braided, rather intricately, into two crossing bands at the back of her head. She looks a lot like all the women in the Alderaanian delegation, with the hair and the clothes, he decides.

Perhaps she is. Rex knows that Fox is rather close with Senator Organa these days, as the Senator has been a good ally to the Guard. It makes the most sense. Perhaps she is a relative of someone in the delegation, and Rex has seen those said relatives before.

The thought feels wrong, for some reason, but it's the best he can come up with for now, especially since they seem very comfortable with each other. Fox doesn't let himself be comfortable like that with many people.

Anakin comes to stand next to him.

"What is it?" He asks Rex.

"Nothing, was just watching them", Rex says, and nods his head towards Fox and the woman. "My brother's there, and she looks familiar, so I was trying to see if I recognised her."

Anakin looks over to Fox and the woman as well, and that is the moment Rex sees her going awfully still. Then she's whipping her head around, and locking her dark eyes with Rex and Anakin.

She looks-

Rex blinks. She looks at Rex, for a split second, and then looks at Anakin, and even from this far, Rex sees how her eyes turn hard and cold. She steps closer to Fox, partially in front of him, like she is attempting to shield him from them, even when she's almost two heads shorter than Fox, and not the one wearing full-body armor.

She takes Fox's hand into hers, and says something. Rex sees how Fox looks up at him and Anakin as well, and instead of coming to greet Rex, he lets her turn him around and walks away.

He looks up at Anakin, who has a deep scowl on his face.

"Sir?" Rex calls. Anakin blinks, too, and the scowl clears slightly.

"She looks familiar", he mumbles. "And she felt like...I don't know."

His comlink beeps, and he turns to speak to it. Rex turns to look back at Fox and the woman.

There's something hanging at her waist. Rex can see a glimpse of it when the long hem of her shirt shifts a bit as she walks.

It looks a lot like-

They go down some steps, and Rex cannot see them anymore. He glances back at Anakin, and at his lightsaber, for once securely on him.

He had seen correct. Rex is sure of it.

He is also very sure that the woman is not a Jedi.

#hello the leia time travel au hasn't left me alone after my last ficlet #I just find it very cathartic okay #she's on a little father-daughter-date and Anakin is disturbing them #sw #tcw #my writing #snippets #captain rex #commander fox #leia organa #anakin skywalker #leia time travel au #bail/breha/fox is a thing in this au if you couldn't already tell from the fact that it's me writing lmao

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overgrownthrone · 14 days

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tracing over the scars that time wore into us

making sure you’re really here

#finally some cathartic zelink with my dragon zel #sometimes i need to write some sap for the caption for my own soul #loz #totk #totk spoilers #zelink #zelda totk #zelda #link #link totk #dragon zelda #light dragon

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witchspeka · 1 year

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It's always "Shou and Ritsu need to blow stuff up with their minds for mental health reasons" or Ritsu and Teru or even Shou and Teru!

But what about Mob? When does he get to blow stuff up with his mind for funsies? For shits and giggles? He didn't go through all of those meltdowns and character development for nothing, let him go ham on a junkyard car or something smh

I believe in Mob's narrative given right to fuck shit up sometimes

#im hungry i should do homework i should also finish all of my other drafted posts BUT I AM LAZY #ive been starting to write fic tho at least thats productive. fic thats kind of relevant to this actually hm #listen i just want more Mob content where he does smth reckless or stupid with his powers he deserves it #or just in general tbh i need more content of mob being kinda mean or having arguments with ppl like to a healthy degree ok #but i still want him to. yanno. lash out and stuff. experience emotion. have him get angry over petty stuff #the first mp100 fic ive ever started writing/drafting had mob and ritsu having a proper fight post canon #i just need it for my OWN mental health. let them have dumb sibling fights and have mob express his annoyances #itd be funny and cathartic. for me at least. ill finish that shit one day its been assembled and disassembled but ill figure it out #eventually #let mob feel and express all of the ugly emotions he didnt allow himself to acknowledge for years pls #its my favourite thing #anyway.#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #shigeo kageyama #cine te a intrebat

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firenati0n · 20 days

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and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life

by firenati0n on ao3

T | 9999

tags: city of angels au, guardian angel henry, lawyer alex, 5+1, dual pov, hurt/comfort, angst with a HAPPY ENDING! NOT THE MOVIE ENDING I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“In all the years, across all the universes, in the midst of all these people…you saw me. You felt me somehow. A gossamer fine thread connecting us, yet you grasped and tugged and held on tight. If losing my wings means I gain you, then that is a loss I will bear with gratitude.”

Five times Guardian Angel Henry yearns for a truly human sensory experience, and the one time he feels them all at once. Or, Henry discovers the joys of humanity through Alex’s eyes, finds himself, and falls in love. Or, Henry takes a leap of faith, and Alex catches him.

xoxo roop

also i know i talked about this in literally january so tagging some folks who expressed interest in this in the past pls don't mind me <3 ilysm xoxo

@ninzied @suseagull04 @onward--upward @duchessdepolignaca03 @@candyspandemonium @anincompletelist @inexplicablymine @heysweetheart-writes @wordsofhoneydew @nocoastposts @onthewaytosomewhere @magicandarchery @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @littlestar2911 @leaves-of-laurelin @tinyarmedtrex @galitzine-nick @anchoredarchangel @gltzine @getmehighonmagic @thirdeye1234 @movetoheavens @starkfridays @indestructibleheart @littlemisskittentoes @songliili @theprinceandagcd @gay-flyboys

#rwrb fic #fics #rwrb #roop writes #fic: angel au #fanfiction #another genre unlocked: hurt/comfort and angst #adding to my roopertoire #(thanks for that fun word anchor jasdkfjalsf)#i have been avoiding this wip since january #and it is finally done #and i cried every time i sat down to write it #and it is so deeply personal to me #so i hope you love it as much as i do #felt cathartic to write #i am henry fr #i need my alex expeditiously #the situation is getting rather dire

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whoistrash · 7 months

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Why change matters and how Amphibia did it better than The Owl House.

"Watching and Dreaming" made me cry a lot during its premiere. I was amazed and, I'd say, dazed by it. Then I forgot about it for a while. Now I finished re-watching Amphibia for the first time since TOH ended. My hype died down, and I have some thoughts. A lot, actually.

Amphibia's ending was incredibly painful and made me sob like a baby for two whole weeks the first time I watched it. That's because it was not only beautiful and heartbreaking, but truly GOOD. Brilliant, actually. I absolutely agree with a statement that any other ending would literally be a contradiction to the whole main plot, especially Anne's arc. The girls had to learn to let go in order to grow as individuals - the thing they had the biggest problem with. Saying goodbye was the only logical option, plot-wise. It still hurt like hell, though. Separating the multidimensional, against-all-odds relationships (especially my beloved spranne. Ouch, ouch, ouch). The Owl House does no such thing - everybody stays together. They live happily ever after.

Paradoxically, I think that it's the main reason why I'd choose "The Hardest Thing" over "Watching and Dreaming" every single time. I know we shouldn't really compare them in EVERY aspect, since TOH had way more things to deal with in the final episode, but the fact that Luz got to not only stay, but to freely travel between worlds as she pleases really took the whole "growing up and finding your true self no matter what the other people do/say about you" thing out the door. Luz from season one, episode one, and Luz from the finale are not really that different. Well, she certainly became more traumatised and depressed than before, but in terms of personal growth? Nope. Luz - from the very beginning - was cheerful, open, caring and very selfless, willing to literally help every stranger she met no matter how it would affect her. She had little to no boundaries, but, well, you can't argue that she was A GOOD, SELFLESS PERSON. Now, we could say that her arc here would be learning that sometimes you should put yourself before others, that you can't save everyone, that you can't trust every person you meet. And she learns it! She fucking does! She helps Philip not knowing who he will become, and then suffers from the consequences, because she helped the wrong person. And then it's all erased, when she saves Collector's life and meets Papa Titan (or whatever we call them).

I have so much to say about this. All of TOH's "villains" (Amity, Lilith, Hunter, The Collector) that were given a redemption arc literally get turned into lifeless, edgy trauma dumpsters, that suddenly loose all of their previous character, quirks and sass (well, maybe except for Lilith, she just started to express them differently, I think, but still, it was WAY too big of a change). I won't dwell on it (since many, many fans called it out already - as they should), and will focus on something different. The only one marked as irredeemable is Belos. Good. Okay. He's irredeemable, because he's a white, christian puritan who won't listen to anyone but himself. Also a genocidal maniac. That's the lesson for Luz here. "You can't save everyone. Some people are just straight up evil". And it's very, very true. But.

From all of the "villains" I mentioned before, Belos is the one that had the most reasons to, let's say, take a dark turn. Those reasons are what makes him irredeemable - he's just too convinced he's right, because, in his mind, he has evidence to prove it. But how do we learn about this? Maybe by seeing his part of the story? Maybe by learning about his brother and Evelyn, about their relationship? It couldn't be straight up awful, since Philip literally brought his brother back to life over and over again, he wanted his brother, or at least the picture of Caleb that satisfied him the most. There was more to it than only "you betrayed me and now I will hate you forever". Do we get to see any of that? No. Instead we get an all-knowing, all-doing being that literally choose Luz as "the one" for being kind and trusting, that convinces her that Belos is, indeed, a lost cause. Do you see where I'm going with this?

Luz, the person that on the literal episode two was told that there is no such thing as a "chosen one" and that she can't always hop into action to save everybody, because, it's, well, not always possible, DOES EXACTLY THAT in the finale by taking a bullet for The Collector, the, you know, very freshly redeemed and suddenly cute and funky villain, whom Luz trusts immediately. AND SHE IS REWARDED FOR IT BY BEING MADE THE CHOSEN ONE. BY A GOD-LIKE BEING THAT CLAIMS TO BE ALL-KNOWING AND CAN DECIDE WHO IS RIGHT AND WHO IS WRONG, BECAUSE OF PERSONAL (King) REASONS. Just like, you know... Belos? The irredeemable villain? And then Luz lets go of the moral dilemmas that's been keeping her up at night for the past months, makes up her mind, defeats the bad guy, learns nothing, and gets to stay in the Boiling Isles and on Earth. With her beautifully redeemed girlfriend and friends whom she kept secrets from and lied to out of fear of being ostracised (you see the pattern here, right?) for, again, months.

I love Amphibia. I love The Owl House. But Amphibia handles it's "villains", generally wronged characters and the whole change/no change thing way better. Well, maybe besides the Core - they got a bit wasted in my opinion. But still. Sasha. Grime. Marcy. Andrias. Anne herself. They learn and change. And more importantly, they face consequences and come to understand and accept them. There's no "chosen one" here. Anne gets the proposition because she's the first one to use the music box for good in literal millenia. A fact, plain and simple (not an opinion based on personal motivations), that makes sense plot-wise, and adds so, so much to Anne's arc. Because Anne from season one, episode one wouldn't care. The one from the finale cares very damn much. And that's the biggest difference.

Saying goodbye makes the message way stronger. The more I think about it, however, the more I'm starting to be afraid that there's no The Message in The Owl House to begin with. Luz learns very little, yet ends up with everything she ever wanted. There's no power behind it. The "find the right people and choose to trust them, not everyone will be your friend" and "some things are out of your control, some people are just bad" aspect is even weaker, as proven by basically the whole season 3. I will end it by my favorite quote from Amphibia, that I think about on daily basis. Have a good day, y'all.

"Change can be difficult, but it's how we grow. It can be the hardest thing to realize you can't hold on to something forever. Sometimes, you have to let it go; but, of the things you let go, you'd be surprised what makes its way back to you."

#the owl house #amphibia #watching and dreaming #the hardest thing #luz noceda #philip wittebane #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #toh critical #kinda?#i love this show too much to fully criticize it but i had to write this #it was cathartic

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queenlucythevaliant · 7 days

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Okay, here we go. Rating literary allusions in Taylor Swift songs:

The Outside: "I tried to take the road less traveled by /but nothing seems to work the first few times/am I right?"--Starting off pretty well! She tried to take the road less traveled by, but it didn't make any difference. 8/10

Love Story: Whole song allusion to Romeo and Juliet-- All those 2008 jokes about Taylor not having read R&J weren't funny then and they aren't funny now. It's a fun, satisfying subversion. However, I am going to dock points for the fact that Romeo and Juliet aren't a prince and princess, just rich. 7/10

Love Story: "You were Romeo/I was a scarlet letter"--Is the Juliet character in "Love Story" being publicly shamed? Did she do something scandalous? There are zero other lines in this song to suggest that she did, and a fair amount of evidence that she didn't. This allusion confuses rather than clarifies and tbh this is the one people should've made fun of in 2008. 2/10

New Romantics: "We show off our different scarlet letters/ trust me, mine is better" --Hooray! She figured out what the book is about! This is a beautifully executed allusion, where "scarlet letters" represents a mark of something shameful which, in a fun subversion, is being shown off with pride. Fits the song really well. Most improved award, 11/10

Getaway Car: "It was the best of times, the worst of crimes" (A Tale of Two Cities) -- Goes in the category of "fun wordplay, but doesn't really mean anything deeper" 5/10

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: "Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year" --This is a perfectly serviceable allusion, but not a super interesting one. Sub "Gatsby" out with "nostalgic" and the song wouldn't change at all. She could've done a lot more with the reference, given the subject matter of the song. 6/10

cardigan: "I knew you/tried to change the ending/Peter losing Wendy" -- This works! You get a sense of Betty losing her innocence and choosing to leave James and of it being inevitable somehow. Plus, it imbues the song with a lovely fairy tale quality. 10/10

illicit affairs: "take the road less traveled by/tell yourself you can always stop" -- To take the road less traveled by is to do something risky, unpopular, or unfamiliar, not just to take a route through town where you won't run into people. Not totally egregious, but the regression from Debut is disappointing. 4/10

invisible string: "and isn't it just so pretty to think/ that all along there was some/ invisible string tying you to me."(The Sun Also Rises)--Ugggggh. Okay, so "Isn't it pretty to think so?" is this sad, tired, ironic note in The Sun Also Rises. Brett tells Jake, "We could have had a damned good time together" and Jake says "Isn't it pretty to think so?" because their whole situationship was never going to work. It's not a positive thing; it's pure, bitter Lost Generation irony. Completely out-of-place in a song about how two people we're supposed to believe will actually work as a couple. This one drives me nuts, and I don't even like Hemingway. 0/10

happiness: "I hope she'll be a beautiful fool/ who takes my spot next to you" (Gatsby)--Saying this about an ex's future SO is so... off. Like, the reason why Daisy hopes her daughter will be a beautiful fool is because it's easy. The two situations have nothing to do with one another, and not in an interesting way. 1/10

The Albatross: whole song allusion to "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," but most notably "She's the albatross/ she is here to destroy you"--The albatross in the Rime is a good omen. The Mariner shoots is for no reason, and the albatross's death is the ostensible source of bad fortune. I wrote a whole separate post on this here. That said, culturally "albatross=bad omen" is common enough, so whatever. 3/10

I Hate It Here: "I will go to secret gardens in my mind/ people need a key to get to/ the only one is mine" -- I like this one a lot. Exactly the right vibe for the song, trying to escape something miserable by going somewhere pleasant. The key is a nice touch. Poor Archibald. 10/10

The Prophecy: "I got cursed like Eve got bitten" --No Taylor, that's not what happened. Famously, Eve was the biter in that situation. 0/10

Cassandra: whole song allusion -- correct me if I'm wrong (I haven't actually read the Illiad), but my understanding is that Cassandra died fairly far into the Trojan war, and not by burning. 4/10

#this probably isn't exhausive lol #but it's what i've got off the top of my head #this was weirdly cathartic to write #you guys know i adore taylor swift but literary allusions have always been my biggest nitpick with her #i would just like to send her to an English class or gently help her out or something idk #tay tay #i'm aware that i'm not addressing Peter off ttpd but that song is such a nothingburger that i really can't be bothered #pontifications and creations #literature makes us more human

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wikiangela · 2 months

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wip wednesday

tagged by @theotherbuckley 💖

I wasn't gonna post any today bc progress slowed down with working mornings again and having to actually sleep at night 🙄😂, but i'm so excited about this fic and I'm loving it and I just wanna share it all lol

prev snippet

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“I’m fine.” Buck responds through gritted teeth. He’s okay, he’s fine, he can do this. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” he laughs, wiping his cheeks with one hand. He needs to get a grip. At least while he’s driving. “This is all so stupid, I’m fine, everything is fine.” he takes a deep breath.

“You don’t have to be fine. Not with me.” Eddie says, and he sounds almost desperate. Desperate for Buck to listen, to hear him. He sounds so earnest and gentle, and Buck can imagine those piercing eyes that always feel like Eddie’s looking into his soul, and he can’t handle this. He can’t handle being so cared for, he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve someone as wonderful as Eddie. All he does is make him worry. All he does is make everyone worry. (...) Eddie once said Buck's the guy who wants to fix everything, and it’s true. He wants to fix everything for everyone he loves. He’s the only thing that’s unfixable, though. And he hates that people even try, only to get burned in the process.

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no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @nmcggg @jesuisici33 @exhuastedpigeon @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @fortheloveofbuddie @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz

#wip wednesday #buck driving fic #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #btw if you want me to start tagging you or stop tagging you just lmk <3 #istg i can't wait to share it all i love this fic so much #it's so self-indulgent bc it's me projecting and it's so perfectly what i needed to write/read lol #it's gonna be a happy-ish ending tho! at least hopeful lol #why is putting buck through it so fun and cathartic lmao #also don't worry y'all there's not gonna be a car crash - Buck will not be physically harmed in this fic 🤣#he's lowkey a reflection of my mental state rn and it's not *that* bad (yet) lol

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