#i don’t think i’m gonna survive this documentary
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you like to match.
maybe it’s a remnant of the old world, back when your biggest problem was how well your outfit was received.
most of the time, you had to dress practically. whenever your group came across an untouched clothing store or cache of quality clothing, the priority was typically finding seasonally appropriate clothing and weather gear, fresh undergarments, new shoes, socks, etcetera. you rarely had the opportunity to put together a real outfit. it was all layering and just taking whatever you could carry. practicality had you collecting cargoes in every color.
rick enjoyed your style; you made an effort to look put together when you could and post-apocalypse, all it took was you finding a pair of jeans that actually fit to propel him from checking you out to tearing them off and bending you over the nearest surface.
daryl thought you were a mall rat. he takes the opportunity to make fun of you and your fashion sense while you’re out on a run.
“this is an abandoned kohl’s, not mooningdale’a or wherever the bitch from ‘friends’ worked.”
you giggle at him. “you mean bloomingdale’s?”
“whatever.”
the two of you are scavenging the former shopping center in search of any edible food, water, tools, anything for judith, just anything that could come in handy. winter coats and appropriate weather gear were pretty large priorities as well.
you thumb through racks of clothing, estimating if it suit fit the person from the group who you were mentally fitting. from flannels for carl, onesies for judith, and boxers for rick, you’re tossing your finds over your arm like an associate was about to come up and offer you a basket.
the pile you’ve accumulated is ditched on an ottoman in the shoe department when a pair of boots catches your eye.
“fuck,” you whisper low enough for daryl not to hear. the brown leather boots have you salivating at the mouth. god, you have nowhere to wear those but if you did…
you’re forced to pick your jaw up off the floor when daryl comes around.
“find anything worth bringin’ back?” his arms are full with everything from tool kits to batteries.
you shake your head. “nope, not much. i’m gonna grab a cart though,” you mention, gesturing to the haul in his arms.
“just don’t get a squeaky one in case there are any walkers lyin’ round.”
“of course!” you chirp, hand wrapping around the metal handlebar as you pry it from a line of other shopping carts.
daryl dumps his finds in and while his back is turned, you toss in the pair of boots. a layer of two of tissue paper on top seems like a good enough disguise.
then the two of you are back to walking the sales floor. you can’t help but watch daryl as he walks in front of you. your breath hitches when you notice how tightly that shirt clings to him - to his rather large arms specifically. you’re so engrossed in how he pushes the cart that you almost miss the gadget out of the corner of your eye.
suddenly you’re doing a double take and walking yourself back to the electronics section.
“you makin’ a documentary or somethin’?”
you turn over the camcorder in your hands. “maybe.” you smile at your traveling companion. “you can take me on one of your hunts and i can get some footage.”
“spook all the deer while you’re at it.”
laughing at him, you flip the screen fully open and put the recording device up to your eye. “maybe i’ll make a survival documentary. video diary or something.”
daryl is walking up to you and flipping the camera shut as soon as he notices the viewfinder trained on his groin.
“what?” you cry, immediately putting on a fake pout. “you don’t wanna make a porn with me?”
“baby, this is a kohl’s.”
you shrug. “what’s it matter? i’m sure people made porn in kohl’s before. wanna go to the dressing room?”
“i don’t think we have time for all that-,”
“ah, i think we do.”
despite his protests, you tug him away from the electronics section - camcorder in your back pocket - and make a beeline for the dressing room.
rick and daryl didn’t like you leaving alexandria without them.
most of the time they made you write them a list as opposed to letting you window shop in the wasteland yourself. so something so mundane as using a dressing room is kind of exciting to you.
the man with a hand in yours rolls the cart up to the dressing room attendant’s desk.
daryl frowns when he notices the boots under the tissue paper. “baby, the fuck’ are these?” he holds up the most gorgeous pair of boots you’ve ever seen.
your lip quivers. “the best pair of shoes i’ve seen since atlanta.”
“how the fuck are you gonna run from walkers in these?”
“uh, i won’t.” you spit.
“you mouthin’ off?”
“never.” you promise with a chuckle.
daryl just shakes his head. “put ‘em back.”
“i think i’ll keep them.”
“really?” he pushes the cart aside to stand in front of you, close enough so that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you.
you offer a playful smile. “i think you just need to see me in them first. then you’ll be convinced.”
with that, the two of you are darting into a dim dressing room - boots in hand.
it doesn’t take long for you to hear the fitting room door swinging open, announcing that rick has found you two.
“we were just discussin’ the merit of her wearing underwear.”
you’re glad the three of you are confined to the handicap dressing room. you wouldn’t want anyone to see your blush when rick gets a cocky grin on his face.
he takes in the sight of you with your jeans pushed down and his best friend next to you, another finger toying at your underwear.
“well, you know my answer.”
you don’t need to ask the constable; he’d make it law for you to go commando at all times if he could.
“yeah, i don’t think you need ‘em.” the younger man agrees.
“why is me wearing underwear such a debate?” you question with a wistful smile. “you two spend awfully more time talking about it than it off.”
“why don’t you show him your boots first?”
you lift an eyebrow, and a leg and do a little kick, still mindful of the intimate dressing room. the light falls on the posh leather boots in such a fashion that you’re forgetting you snatched them off of a shelf at kohl’s.
rick whistles. “you look great in them, darlin’. i’m curious where you think you’ll be wearin’ then though.”
shrugging, you settle back down onto the seat and begin freeing yourself from the leather brown boots. “not sure. they’re pretty to look at though.
“that they are.” rick agrees.
“why don’t you keep ‘em on?”
you raise an eyebrow. “i thought they were,” you make air quotations with your fingers, “shit boots.”
rick sniggers. “so mean to her, dare.’”
you nod, zipping a boot back up. “really.”
“i think you should apologize to the pretty lady. tell her you like her boots.”
you teeter a boot a foot above the ground invitingly. daryl falls to his feet in front of you with a frown that you know is a front. as soon as he’s faced with your inner thighs, his hands are laid out on top of them, and he’s iterating beneath you,”
“i’m sorry ‘bout your boots, baby.” he states, eager fingers inching closer to your waistband again. “i think you look fuckin’ fantastic in ‘em. but where are you gonna wear em’?”
you have an answer but as he peels back your panties and leans in to face a mere few inches from your dripping core, your response is stuck in your throat. it takes a sharp inhale to regain your thoughts when his finger and tongue begin tempting you at the same time. rick leans against the wooden paneled wall, crossing his arms at you.
“you know they’re gonna be hard to match with all your other clothes. not that you don’t have enough.” rick sighs, running a hand through his hair like he’s thinking about storage and reveling in spectating daryl touch and tease you. “you already filled up the closet last time you came out with us. you’re gonna have to call rosita over to take some of it off your hands.”
you roll your eyes. they’re telling you that you need to get rid of clothing like every other month. when it comes time for them to make you bag up anything you’re willing to part with, you typically found some way to end up on your knees or with them bending you over something. that usually gives you another month.
“i thought daryl was saying sorry.” you grumble, smooth legs kicking playfully in protest until daryl has them pinned against the seat, his tongue licking furious stripes from the top of your clit down to your aching little hole.
“baby, you’re so wet.” daryl comments, lips smacking with your slick.
“as always.” rick jeers, walking over to sit next to you. “hey, doll,” he greets into your mouth.
needy and bucking into daryl’s soft mouth, you return the kiss with a fervor that rick’s not expecting. he groans at the bruising brush of your pillowy smooth lips against his.
you’re reaching your hand to the side to grasp at him when you instead find your camcorder. remembering your original plan, you pull it forward onto rick’s lap.
he only chuckles into your mouth when you open the video camera and aim the lens on the man going to town between your legs.
“you forgive me, baby?” daryl inquires with the addition of a finger.
you nod up and down. “fuck, i forgive you, dare’. you’re so good with your mouth.”
rick’s smile turns upside down when he notices how shaky your hand is getting as daryl brings you closer to your first p.m. orgasm. he brings a steady hand up to relieve you of your cameraman duties.
the opportunity presents itself to fall back into rick so you take it. his chest is pressed snugly against your backside now as he angles the camcorder to catch the downright debaucherous scene occurring in this kohl’s dressing room.
your legs are quivering and you’re chanting daryl’s name when he removes his fingers and goes all in on your pussy.
rick clasps a hand on your mouth. “shh, honey. don’t want the others to think somethin’s wrong.”
“mhmmm,” you shudder against his hand.
the pleasure daryl’s been doling out to you comes in the form of a mind numbing orgasm that washes over your tensed form from head to toe. daryl doesn’t slow down either as you cost his face in your sweet slick. he’s licking patterns into you and you swear he’s trying to paint the alphabet across your cunt as you ride out the delicious pressure your boyfriend is treating you to.
“how are you gonna walk back to the car?” rick asks you, pulling your face gently towards his to cup your chin and engross you in another kiss. he only separates from you to pass the camcorder off to daryl and lift your thighs.
“might have to carry you.” daryl muses and begins undoing his belt.
“rick, you’re gonna fuck me, right?” you crane your neck to lock eyes with the man entering you right then and there.
“fuck, give me a moment, darlin’.” rick shakes his head as you grind against him, unable to think straight.
you’re catching your breath when you look up and notice the blue eyed man behind the somehow closed camcorder. bless him.
“i think you have the cover on,” you giggle and stretch using your tippy toes to flip it back for him.
once the red light is on your face, rick yanking your tank top off and attacking your bare chest with open mouthed kisses. the nipple he pops into his mouth pebbles even more at his touch. his mouth coupled with the all encompassing stretch you’re enduring is drawing every moan you can muster.
he cements a grip on your hips to raise you up and down on his cock in his lap. the plushnsss of your ass is making him feral as he’s met with that same pillowy softness upon every meeting with his pelvis.
daryl keeps the camera on you, rick, and the mess you’re creating in your laps. he shuffles to stand next to the seat and offers you his now nude cock which you happily take into your mouth, earning him a better angle in the process.
the camcorder captures you oohing and aahing around daryl as rick fucks the past few hours of tension out of you. nothing like justifying fucking your brains out in a dressing room on stress and performance.
the girthy man in your mouth is thinking the same thing. daryl hisses when he hits the back of your throat and you gag. he’s fucking your throat even faster once he catches sight of his dick disappearing in and out of your pretty pink lips on the screen.
like a seesaw, you rock up and down on rick. the way rick is thrusting upwards into you has you moaning pornographicly around his best friend’s length. it’s only so long before you have to give in. you’re rolling your hips frantically and making the most debauched noises around daryl.
that’s all it takes for the archer to twitch in your throat. you’re prepared to swallow but before you know it, he’s backing his cock out of your mouth and holding it directly in your face, pumping with one hand and recording in the other.
“watch out, rick,” he warns.
and just like that his cock is in front of you, spurting and coating your face.
“does that go with your outfit?”
#the walking dead#rickyl#rick grimes x reader#daryl dixon x reader#rick grimes smut#daryl dixon smut#rickyl x reader#twd#twd smut#not beta read#f/m/m#p in v sex#blowy#doin’ it in the dressing room#on camera!#established relationship#ditzy thought fr#really sleezy ending#daryl dixon#rick grimes#on a run#grimesgirll#still getting the hang of writing smut#this is one of those fics where i got h*gh writing hit the post button and thought what happened when i reread it
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Imagine
Sewing and mending your clothes after a mission
This is highly specific and detailed but I love the idea. Also domestic 141 is the best thing!!
Laying low after a mission is definitely not the best part of your job. You often times find yourself stuck in an old safe house with your teammates, sharing a small space with them, while not knowing when you’ll be able to go back on the field.
But there surely is one thing that these days can offer you, is some time to think, process the things you’ve seen and get some rest. And as you are forced to figuratively mend and repair your mind, you often take advantage of the peace and quiet to literally mend and repair your equipment; clothes, gear, tools or weapons… anything that could’ve been damaged during your latest intervention.
The whole habitation is quiet as you make your way to the living area. Your teammates are there. Price is watching some obscure documentary about the fishing industry in South America on the telly, the sound brought to a minimum. Soap is mindlessly doodling in his journal, not looking particularly satisfied with his work. Gaz is taking a nap slouched on the couch beside Price, he’s probably tried watching the documentary, didn’t work out too well…
And Ghost is quietly cleaning his pistol, methodically clearing every little piece of any gunk, grime and leftover powder. The clicking of the metal pieces give a rhythm to the silence. You hate to interrupt such a peaceful picture so you speak quietly.
“Hey,” you start, a few eyes moving over to look at you, “I’m gonna take some time to sew up a few things. Got anything that needs mending?” you ask them.
“I’m good, thanks for the thought, though,” Price responds with a gentle smile that warms your heart a little. You nod and turn to Soap.
“I don’t think so, Lass, but thanks.” He can’t think of anything off the top of his head for now, so you finally look at Ghost. His back is slightly turned to you, you can see him looking back slightly and responding with a shrug.
He’s been way quieter around you lately, you noticed. But Ghost is Ghost, right? So you don’t really pay him any mind and give one last nod before going back into your room. On your way there, you don’t notice Price’s slight head movement directed towards Ghost. And behind the door of your room, you don’t hear the husky sigh Ghost let out as he stands up from his seat.
You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed as you silently pass your needle through the fabric of your torn tank top. It’s not major tear, nothing a quick stitching can’t fix. You’re focused in your task when a light knock on your door makes you look up.
Ghost is slowly entering your room, his gaze fleeing yours. As it often does lately. He speaks quietly, his voice still very composed, just like every time you’re working out there on the field, precise and efficient.
“Do you have a spare needle?” he asks. You notice the balaclava in his hand before he holds it out slightly in front of you. “I need to repair this,” he finishes. You look at him for a moment, trying to keep your thoughts at bay. He requesting your help with anything outside the field was not unheard of, but it was still pretty new… Why does he look so cute?
“Sure, there you go,” you respond, picking a small needle and some black thread in your tiny sewing kit. You hand the objects to him and he takes them with a grateful nod. He looks about to leave when he stops in his tracks, not sure if he should ask you.
“This is a knit fabric, I’m not sure how to…” he starts hesitantly, showing you the piece of clothing again, “go about it,” he concludes. You fight the small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and pat the empty space on the bed covers beside you.
“I’ll show you, if you want,” you say and he complies surprisingly quickly.
In your line of work, whether it be on skin or cloth, a man needs to learn out to sew. It’s a primordial skill when you’re in a survival situation, to keep your clothes functional. Ghost in an intelligent man, you realize he probably knows how to take care of his stuff beyond just keeping his guns working.
But even you find knit fabrics tricky to work with. One wrong stitch and the next time you use your item, it might very well run enough to render it unusable. And your heart flutters at the idea of him asking you for help, even for such a tiny little thing.
Ghost sits beside you, the mattress dipping ever so slightly, making you lean towards him just a little. He prepares his needle and thread while you put your own work aside. Once this is done, you locate the small hole in the balaclava he’s laid on his thigh to free his hands. You hand it back to him, pointing towards the repair area.
“First, you need to thread all the loops left open to stop it from running,” you indicate. The loops you’re mentioning are tiny, but precision is your job, so they’re all threaded very soon and you can begin the real work.
“Then you can thread through that and darn it just like a woven fabric,” you say, mimicking the technique moving your finger back and forth. He starts mending the piece, using your advice.
The needle looks comically small in his massive hand. The size of things makes his movements quite awkward. And it doesn’t help that he’s holding the needle with the very tip of his fingers, barely touching it, as if he were afraid to do something wrong.
You smile gently at the sight and decide to help him further. Your fingers brush against his as you move his hand so he can work pushing the needle towards himself instead of away. A technique you’d found way more efficient over the years.
“It’ll be easier if you hold it from this side,” you say, your voice quiet and thoughtful. The voice he loves to hear rolling off your tongue and lips when you are close to him. “Guide the needle with your index and thumb and push it with your middle finger,” you explain as he watches your hands working his fingers into position with a curious eye. “Like this.”
He starts using your latest advice, religiously following your movements as you mimic the gesture in the air. He manages to work faster, his hand steadier. You smile. His needle work starts taking shape. “Nice work,” you say, turning your head to look at his face. His eyes are looking straight back at you. For once in quite some time now, his gaze doesn’t dart away from yours. It just gently moves to your slightly parted lips and stays there for a moment. A moment that doesn’t last nearly long enough for him.
#simon riley imagine#simon riley#simon ghost riley#cod mw22#cod mwii#cod mw2 fanfic#ghost cod mw2#call of duty mwii#ghost call of duty#ghost x you#ghost x reader#reader insert#imagine#soft ghost#fluff#task force 141#domestic fluff
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With Liberty media it wasn’t that I don’t think he’s marketable it’s just I look at F1 and it’s very PR trained and while Marc is good with PR he also love the chaos but I guess if they use it to bring attention to the sport liberty media won’t care. I’m just waiting for them to cash in on the rosquez of it all cause I know it’s gonna happen somehow. Out of all the riders who do you think will be best and worst cause I saw someone try to tell me that Marc wouldn’t be marketable and I was like ??? What do you mean.
Also how was being at COTA I have never been to a live race but I’m trying to get to one in the near future hopefully.
i am interested in howwww liberty is going to choose to narrativize these guys. because you’d think it would be a drive to survive parallel but they already KIND OF tried that with motogp unlimited and it categorically flopped. and marc already took his own stab at telling the sepang story via the medium of sports documentary and as a result he mostly got away with avoiding motogp unlimited. and kind of so did vale really… (it’s been a minute but the only time they really acknowledge the rivalry is when they made marc record a retirement message right?? also so funny imagine being marc. imagine.)
but sepang is also imo pretty foundational to the sport in terms of understanding the current dynamics of like. HALF the grid. you have to understand the 2013-2015 seasons i think in order to reap a lot of those narrative dividends concerning modern rivalries ! if you want to sell marc you’re going to have to sell vale. if you want to sell pecco you have to do the same. same with bez. same with luca. same with franky diggia EVERYBODY almost. enea even. they’ve all been floating around each other for so long and they all play such different roles in each other’s stories and i think if they actually churn out a proper little show about it, it’ll be interesting to see what choices they make ! like liberty isn’t concerned with chaos (that drives engagement remember !!) they care about STORY. and they’re going to cast people in roles here. they’re GOING to have a stance. THATS what’s gonna be interesting to see 2 me. because motogp has a hero and a villain and right now they are kind of both named marc marquez
#there’s also marc’s weird controlfreakism about sepang that i would be VERY interested to see how stuff contrasts…#motogp#callie speaks#asks#cota was great bring headphones to any race you go to shit is LOUD.
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Warning ⛔️ triggering content up ahead, proceed with caution or do not read.
I think I’m gonna write a mini novel on Israel and why she was never mentioned in Hetalia…
I’m gonna call it, “the apology” or something along those lines because quite honestly …
Like I feel it would be just inspiring to have her in there and since you know, Jewish population and ww2 and yeah I don’t really need to get into too much detail here at the moment, but writing it of course in a perspective coming from someone who has had family that survived the Shoah … I feel I should be the one to write of such things. It’s a way for me to cope and deal with the antisemitism I have to deal with in the world.
Also I would definitely put in there my headcanon and my own variation of “Auf Wiedersehen , sweetheart” as in addition to “The Apology”.
And instead it’s, “Ikh bin bahaltn, meyn libe” - translated to, ‘I’m Hiding, My love.’
And it’s about Israel before she was recognized and was living in the country Germany at the time. She had an occupation as a cleaning girl and maid service , because the last job she had before was a perfume designer in France , but that had plummeted after the Great Depression. So she had to find a job that she could make money with despite the hardship. Eventually she went from being living middle class to barely making ends meet by the time she migrated to Germany right before the ww2.
Obviously due to the context that would be in this, is a very sensitive and difficult subject that would not be ideal for all readers, so if mentionings of genocide and holocaust are something you can’t read, then I definitely say do not engage any further of this blog, the last thing I want to do is cause any psychological harm.
I would also like to point out that the small novel I’m thinking of doing would have a lot of topics that would be considered sensitive and very controversial subjects. Mentions of a lot of topics that are DDDNE.
And Germany in his meeting of Israel would be very very very historically multi facet. Some that would be more pleasant, and some that would be considered very negative.
I would also try and keep this in character as much as I could , given how Ludwig’s (Germany) personality is very apologetic and was also apprehensive during that entire time, I will be sticking to that but also strict, militant attitude.
More than likely this will be referenced a bit off of Love it Was Not (by the way, a very educational and interesting documentary that I recommend for those to watch, especially in the day and age)
#hetalia oc#israel chan#hetalia#israelhetalia#dddne#seriously but guys just warning you#contraversy#dark history#hetalia germany#germany hetalia
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Anyways this might get me shot on here but like. I actually don’t want Netflix to die lol. Bc frankly. To me. It’s got a better user experience than all the other idiot streaming services. Like. I go anywhere else and I’m subjected to ridiculously long unskippable ad breaks (I’m sorry but if YouTube is free and caps their unskippable ads at 30 seconds, why is Hulu, which I pay money for, giving me 3 MINUTES of unskippable shitass ads???) or ridiculous tiered content schemes that lock half the content behind a paywall, or the content itself is so limited in scope that if I wanna watch a documentary or a classic movie or an adult filmé with sex in it, I cannot. Like. Netflix is popular for a reason! No ads! No paywalls! Your monthly subscription grants u access to every title in their catalogue, and their catalogue is extremely diverse! No fucking ads! And like. Sure it’s on the spendy side for a streaming service, but compared to Hulu Netflix is like paradise. Personally I think the only reason Netflix is “dying” is bc some dudes in suits collectively decided that growth is the best way to measure a company’s success. When like. Netflix is so popular it’s reached market saturation in North America. Most companies would KILL for that shit! They’re bringing in billions of dollars every month and yet somehow the company is STILL failing bc a line on a graph doesn’t go up enough. And now they’re gonna tank the company bc like four dudes decided that their insane monthly take isn’t enough and they need more subscribers to survive.
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Yellow time :D I’m watching Aimsey
Pregame
I know it’s a fakeout but the c!Aimsey cosplay is cute!!!
Not a fakeout I’m a fool
Their lil bag and the high waisted pants!!!! Hand over the gender!!!!
“My girlfriend’s dead… I don’t have a home… but I’m a silly little guy!!” So true!!!! The silliest <333
NOOOOOOOO C!GUQQIE 😭😭😭
Aimsey calling himself the only welsh person to ever exist, I’d believe it
I know Ran probably told her in advance, but it would be so much funnier if they knew absolutely nothing about the Garfieldfan bit and just freaking went with it as soon as he saw their stream
Aimsey talking about getting out all their swears, don’t think that’s how it works king
“I should get bonus points because I’m a lesbian, moving on” So true
“Is Jimmy ready to game?” Well he is Mr Gaming
I’m so excited to Jimmy and Aimsey interactions, you have no idea :)))
“I’m going to try my absolute best, if I do slip up I will push myself down the stairs” Jimmy sounded so concerned help 😭
Nevermind he is now offering to shove xem down the stairs
Jimmy laughing about the mental image of throwing Aimsey down the stairs several minutes later 😂
They’re so silly :D
THE FANART 😂😂😂
The way they both were so confused my TrueSymmetry
Aimsey and Jimmy asked to team with each other this event??? :(( that’s so sweet I love them
“What are you doing here?” “What are you doing here?” When they run into each other at the place they all said they were going 😂
Jimmy saying Phil has something different in mind every time someone suggests something and him laughing and saying “a little bit of chaos”
I love this team’s energy so much you don’t understand
Aimsey and Jimmy screaming no to bingo and Phil just laughing
Bingo But Fast
Phil woke up and chose violence chaos
Phil and Aimsey’s synchronized gasp when they notice the elytra
Jimmy what are you talking about, you’ve played bingo
They’re just crying about the old textures, valid
Aimsey and Blushi :))
They tried to crit out Bad, I’m crying
“Can anyone get some clay?” “I’m currently in the… uh, thingymajiggy” “Perfect!” Blushi 😂
“I love flying, this is so fun! Oh and I fell, nevermind, no longer fun” and Phil just shrieking
Blushi trying to actually game while Phil is just losing his mind and Aimsey is enabling him
“Sam broke my crafting table!!” Blushi sounded so sibling right there 😭
Already planning to throw for loser dodgebolt after game 1 my beloved
Blushi giving Aims a chicken and it just testing itself out the tube 😂
Aimsey screaming at Jimmy when he missed his miss
Battle Box
Blushi being Aimsey’s hypeman my beloved
This team is so scuffed help 😂
High key thought Phil was referencing MCM there 👀
Phil went “ooo weapon >:D”
What even happened lmao
Jimmy’s little “We’re doing this on purpose, right?” 😭😭😭
THEYRE SO SILLY
“We won the battle, now it’s time to win the war” SO TRUE BLUSHI!!
“I’m overstimulated” “Someone just said we’re the Distracted Dogs, that’s our new game name” just back to back lol
“I’m having too much fun, I can’t” Phil is dying
Hole in the Wall
Aimsey talking about himself like she’s some kind of robot and/or sim is so
Jimmy and Aimsey taking “If we go down, we go down together” to a whole new level”
See kids? If you eat your veggies you too can become a minecraft streamer!!
“We’re pulling it back!!” “We can’t pull it back too much guys, we gotta get last” so true Blushi, so true
“For the sake of Jimmy’s mental health”
Survival Games
Aimsey legit sounds so sad
Aimsey narrating documentary-style 😂
Phil embracing his inner bird is the best thing to happen to this community lol
“I’m gonna get a drink and it’s gonna be ALCOHOL!!!” Phil 😭
HANNAH AND SYLVEE MY BELOVED!!! THEYRE POPPING OFF!!!
TGTTOSAWAF
Aimsey hyping up Blushi :))
Aimsey and Phil continuing the halftime show, as they should
“NO!!! I hate people” valid
Them all just screaming 😂
Noooo Aimsey would’ve been first :((
Philza my most inconsist canon player my beloved <333 (Jimmy’s the most overall lol)
Sands of Time
I love how much xey love SoT <333
Aimsey saying hi to H and Phil underestimating how much this man loves sands
Phil noticing the chimes being off so fast is actually insane, this man plays too much minecraft /lh
Aimsey’s confidence is everything <333
“We’re the great, we’re the best, we’re actually the best there’s ever been… oh we’re still tenth though” “It’s rigged!! I am telling you, it rigged!!”
“We were too silly!!”
Big Sales at Build Mart
Aimsey and Phil’s energy is everything
“You need white stained glass” “I have black stained glass” “That doesn’t help, you loser, good job though” AIMSEY 😂😭😭
Phil just keeps getting sassed 😂😂😂
“Guys, do you think we’re making it to dodgebolt, I think we do” “A HUNDO PERCENT!!”
Who hurt Jimmy???? Well, skyblockle, but…
Skyblockle
Who gave them permission to be this funny???
“Can we make a pickaxe real quick?” “No” “… PLEASE!!” 😭😭😭
TOP TEN ANIME BETRAYALS: BLUSHI KILLING AIMSEY’S PIG
“Forget the pig, keep mining!!!” Jimmy 😂
They’re just playing a game of telephone 😂😂😂
They did really well!! I spaced out and now they’re in 6th lol
“It’s so silly” “The silly meter on it is crazy” “Shut up!!!” Aimsey and Jimmy my beloveds <333
THEM ALL ABSOLUTELY LOSING IT WHEN THEYRE ACTUALLY IN DODGEBOLT
Dodgebolt
Oli and Jimmy <3333
Aimsey and Krinios intense eye contact my beloved
“Guys I feel sick” JIMMY 😭😭😭
This is so chaotic I’m dying /pos
KRINIOS KILLED JIM 😭😭😭
“Guys, there’s friendly fire, just to let you know, there is friendly fire” thank you Jimmy
“Beky I’m in you” “Good.” Why did she say it like that 😭
I need an Aimsey and Oli team STAT
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What sort of asks would you like to receive at this time? Questions about characters? Questions about the worldbuilding of the Cars universe? Questions about how things in the Cars universe compare to things in ours? Questions about scenarios that could have happened in the films, but didn't? Or would you prefer questions of a different nature?
Speaking entirely candidly, I am actually on Tumblr in this, the year 2022, for my sideblog, not this blog. My sideblog is the current love of my life, and I wish my sideblog got asks in the way that this one does! XD You all are very, very, very nice to me.
That being said, I’m not especially yearning for anything over here. Cars-related things I am actively thinking about of my own accord probably relate most to NASCAR itself--though I also try to think about NASCAR as little as possible when it’s not in season. Generally when I talk about NASCAR here I assume I come across as some weird lady screaming random sets of letters and numbers and sounding very angery all the time, because I don’t think there’s necessarily huge overlap between the Pixar Cars and NASCAR fandoms. I know there are some of you out there, for sure! But this blog acts like the fandoms are one Venn circle and in the broader reality I don’t think that’s actually true.
Stuff I’d talk about unprompted: I’m very glad that JGR is letting the 18 lie fallow for at least a year. I didn’t think I could abide Bowman in the 48 after JJ’s retirement, but having forgiven Bowman for the high crime of having simply done his job in the cleanest and most unproblematic way at Chicagoland 2018, I am now a Bowman defender and the 48 feels undeniably his. But JJ got to leave on his own terms and then some.
That’s not what happened with the 18.
After all this, I’m honestly just like, you’re gonna do the 18 like that? You’re gonna doe KFB like that? Call me petty but I am not ready do see the 18 on someone else.
And now I’m SCREAMING because I just had flashbacks to the Cars 3 deleted scene where they strip LMQ of the 95, a trauma I have yet to recover from after seeing that deleted scene ONE TIME in September 2017. Brick Yardley was like Kasey Kahne and LMQ was like JJ and now also like KFB. 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Cars 3, the “Drive to Survive” documentary NASCAR has been yearning for.
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Happiest of beautiful days! This weather has been fantastic! Although it’s a reminder that global warming is real. I watch all the Alaskan survival shows and older people all talk about how the weather has changed so much since they were young. The ice doesn’t freeze like it used to so they can’t do ice fishing like they used to.
I must find time to see the Bob Marley movie! I absolutely love him and his philosophy on life!
What happened in Chiefs celebration day was a nightmare! Thank God me, nor anybody I know was hurt. Feel so sad for those who were hurt, physically, but also mentally. It shocks you to the core when it happens to you. When I found out it was a fight that started over “why are you looking at me”, I just couldn’t believe the lack of respect for human life. Senseless, in a crowd of kids. 2 of the shooters were kids. We have caring men starting programs for these kids to actually see a way out of the ghetto. Kudos to them! I’m going to volunteer. #KCstrong
We watched the January 6th insurrection documentary last night. So scary and overwhelming for those officers! How can anyone say that it didn’t happen? Or that Trump wasn’t the instigator? They just must not care that our government was almost overthrown because everyone is just acting like it didn’t happen! I’m totally trying not to freak out over him making a comeback. What is wrong with people? How can they not see the narcissistic, egotistical, psychotic liar that he is? What president constantly makes fun of and calls people names that don’t agree with him? A big bully that will do and say anything to get his way. And don’t get me started over his alignment with Putin.
Still holding out hope that the American people wake up and see what’s at stake if they vote him back in office. 🤞🤞🤞
Since it’s gonna be in the 70s today, I’m having a bbq with a few of my favorite people!!
I swear my little Jazzy girl is the most intuitive, smartest dog ever! She knows what I’m saying to her! If I sigh or even look sad, she’s right there to comfort me.
In this pick, she’s been smelling the yard for the best poop spot, can’t be too careful where you poop!
Do believe my new part time gig is gonna be finding Bigfoot. That’s right, jumping on the bandwagon. I’ve been convinced that something big and hairy and smart is out there! We think we know everything, but maybe the hairy beast lives!
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Imma infodump real quick because this has been bubbling in me and holy crap I can’t believe people care!
First off, I’m gonna preface by saying I’m just a Tauros rancher. Been one all my life, my family has been doing it in the traditional Johto fashion for… I dunno how long exactly, but a while. My only real scientific know how comes from old schooling and documentaries about fossils. Everyone had that phase right? Anyway…
So Tauros are pretty neat. Hoof to horn to tail they are the coolest. But they’re also kinda weird. They’re one of those weird mons that have a strange sexual dimorphism thing with another ‘species,’ aka Miltank. But actually they are technically the same. And yet, they are so physically different. Why?
Let’s start with their history. Bovine Pokémon were some of the first to be considered ‘domesticated,’ domesticated here meaning more willing to work with humans than most for one reason or another way back in the day. Hisui era type stuff. There are some who suggest that Tauros and Miltank looked much more alike in that time, or that they had a pre-evolution that branched depending on the sex like Ralts or Snorunt, but no proper records seem to have survived that prove either of these theories.
All we really have are old tales passed down by ranchers generation after generation. And anyone familiar with oral histories will know how messy that can get in terms of getting facts straight. My Pa and his Pa before him both told me stories of a time when Miltank looked very different, much more similar to their male counterparts in body structure and ferocity. At the same time, Tauros were also even more wild. The better to battle each other over mates and fend off the far more ferocious predators of their era. Neither Pa nor Grandpa ever actually saw these differences. Nor apparently did my great grandpa. But for a story to last even that long, surely there has to be something to it right?
As they tell it, Tauros and Miltank eventually decided that humans weren’t so bad. We could grow amazing food, build reliable shelter, and make a good racket if something threatening comes around. A lot of canine Pokémon had already figured out that we were willing to share the spoils for a few favors, so y’know, why not also try to get in on that?
Tauros were great at helping plow the fields to make even more food for everyone. Miltank was able to, of course, give milk as additional food so young children wouldn’t starve. Who’s idea it was to start that particular arrangement is anyone’s guess. That part of the story hasn’t survived in detail, but I believe it may have been the Miltank?
Anyways, outside of hard labor, meat was the only other thing humans could really do with the male Tauros at the time outside of the standard Pokemon Partner relationship. Miltank was more valuable as they could produce more without the need for a butcher. So as with many other living things, selective breeding happened. Both Pokémon were bred to be less temperamental, especially Miltank, though it’s never fully worked on Tauros.
Miltank were bred to have shorter legs, the harder to escape with. Smaller bodies, the easier to house in a barn. Gentler dispositions, the more willing to share their milk without a struggle. Somehow a degree of bipedalism became a side effect of all this. No one really knows how that part happened. Maybe an added cute factor? But that’s just my own speculation. More likely it’s so their teats don’t scrape the ground because… ouch.
Regardless, all those small changes resulted eventually in the Miltank and Tauros we all know of today. Put them in a field together, and they can still make more of themselves in the *ahem* ‘old fashioned way.’ More than that, they are always fully comfortable with each other, differences and all. Like nothing ever really changed between them after all this time.
Sometimes I think about all this and wonder what those ancient Tauros and Miltank were like. I wonder if Miltank could ever be restored to their original form. I wonder if they would want to. I wonder if either ‘species’ would have chosen to be our friends if they knew how it would change them.
Not that that really matters in the here and now. We’ve all become so intertwined as species that separating at this point would only hurt everyone involved. Sure there are plenty of wild herds as well, but even they carry the marks of what we humans have done.
I guess what I’m saying is, if we really are responsible for changing them, then we must also be responsible for continuing to care for them where we can. Sorry to get all philosophical suddenly, this stuff just kinda raises those questions. All I know for sure is I’m gonna keep doing what I do to raise and care for these beautiful Pokémon for all my days. And someday maybe I’ll pass this story to my own kids.
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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 105
Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid/Turn Left
“Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid”
Plot Description: The dead are rising from their graves and happily reuniting with their families in Bobby’s hometown
Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: 1) I thought they said the dead were HAPPILY reuniting. But 2) I don’t think I’ve pissed off anyone who’s died enough for them to KILL me. But also I’m not answering the door in a storm like that if I don’t know someone’s on the way
That is some very convenient narration from the nature documentary
Well, they’re not calling you a TRUTHER. Mmm, but okay. Just solidifies my hypothesis that I wouldn’t die in the first five minutes: I’ve also never killed anyone
These are, in fact, the correct faves to make when you get caught impersonating a government official because you had the sheriff of Bobby’s home town call him
Oh shit…Bobby didn’t tell them what the fuck’s going on because his wife is back from the dead too
So DEATH Death is on his way
I am…extremely sympathetic to Bobby’s dilemma (and I am EXTREMELY glad I didn’t watch this last week). But yeah, if it were John and the boys had found out he came back from the dead, Bobby would be telling them the same thing they’re telling him now.
Well, one good thing about Sam getting attacked by that old woman is that we know you don’t have to do anything special to kill them
Bobby, come on.
Look…the level of planning Dean’s doing to go kill Bobby’s wife is exactly the level that Cas did to get Famine’s ring yesterday. Surface level to the extreme
Oh Jody…now I see why you’re pro-zombie. Oh no…oh you poor woman. To get your son back and then lose both your son and your husband in the same night due to your son coming back. I can’t even imagine. Jody, I’m so sorry
Oof, Karen knows it’s over, but Bobby (predictably) can’t do it. He can’t kill her again
Aw come on…I wanna know the messagggggge
Oh Bobby. He did it. He had to, but that doesn’t make it hurt less
WHY ARE THEY SO FOCUSED ON KILLING BOBBY AND/OR DEAN? Unless Bobby is somehow responsible for their deaths too?? Maybe??? I dunno. Are we gonna get closure on that?
This must be so hard to do a second time.
Oh…this whoooooole thing was a hit on Bobby’s life.
“Been On My Mind…”: Nope. 9
“Turn Left”
Plot Description: Donna's entire world collapses, but there's no sign of the Doctor. Instead, she finds help from a mysterious blonde woman - a traveler from a parallel universe
(First things first, HBO Max spelled traveler wrong in their plot description...just needed to get that out of the way)
I'm not ready at all for this episode. I feel like I JUST. GOT. Donna. (The episode just about every day all last week didn't help, but I still want to complain)
*blinks slowly* they were going to pay her HOW MUCH a year? to be a secretary? 20k a year? adjusted for inflation and converted to USD, no. No absolutely not. Well, I suppose if you had multiple wage earners in the house, sure. Anyway...
Normalize making what turn out to be life altering decisions out of spite. I love that for you, Donna.
You can take the companion away from the TARDIS but you can't take the instinct to run toward danger away from the companion
There's so much I've forgotten (fitting) about these episodes because I rarely went back to these in particular. They're so painful. So, yeah, I forgot the Doctor straight up dies.
Rose came all the way across universes just to find out the Doctor died.
Way to go, Mama Noble, making Donna take the job where she's just gonna get laid off because half of he employer's contracts are on the other side of London and they can't cross the Thames.
YES, DONNA!!! GO OUT LOUD AND TOXIC!! This is cathartic for me.
Watching this in 2023 is...something, for sure. Wilf's (rightly) going on about how there's solid proof of alien life, and how it's coming to Earth, and it's not friendly. All the while, Donna and her mom are (also correctly) still having to deal with the minutia of daily life. (Adore that Donna stole Beatrice's label stapler.)
I don't like that Donna and Rose don't get along here. Darkest timeline.
WILF IN HIS TWO PAIRS OF CHRISTMAS ANTLERSSSSSSS <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
Oh...oh, shit. Girl..."is that like a sequel?" TO TITANIC??
"America is in crisis" bitch, you are telling me. OKAY HANG ON NOW. I was on board with you when you said that the country I live in is in crisis, but I will always draw the line at the fatphobic comments about Americans...
GODDDDD this episode is depressing. Like. I've seen this episode of Supernatural, that one sucked, too. I don't like watching all the things our protagonists accomplished, all the people they saved....be....not that. (I'm tired. It's nearly 11pm because I was dreading watching this)
Oh god...this family Donna and her family have been living with. Fuck. FUCK. The Donna I know wouldn't be this oblivious to what's actually happening around her. The knowing looks exchanged between the patriarch of that family and Wilf...it's heartbreaking
I hate Donna's mom so much. How dare she.
Oh,...that's what Rose meant when she told Donna she was going to die. She's going to cause the accident that forces...herself to turn left
The Doctor's reaction to hearing Bad Wolf once more...
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A Favor: Epilogue
Nessian Modern AU
Masterlist
***
Eleven months later
Rhysand,
I’m leaving this letter taped to your desk because I know you won’t bother reading it otherwise. Sorry—this didn’t feel like something that could be said over email.
I can’t begin to count the number of times you’ve saved my life over the past two decades. From when your mom first took me off the streets and you let me share your room, to when you pushed me to go to Italy because you could see that I needed the space.
Since the day I joined Night Court Inc. I’ve worked tirelessly to pay you back. The long hours, taking on multiple projects at once, doing jobs outside of my jurisdiction, all have been to pay you back. Not because I felt like I had to, but because you deserved it. You were—and are—an amazing boss and brother.
Which is why it’s so hard for me to tell you that I’m leaving.
Not forever, obviously. Just for a year, maybe more if I feel like it. Think of it as an extended sabbatical.
Nesta is graduating soon, and there’s a lot I want to do with her before she takes the Bar and starts her career. Firms are already lining up at the door to employ her, so she’s hot real estate, you know?
Anyway, the two of us have this bucket list of places we want to see before we die, and while becoming a full time attorney isn’t really dying, it’s pretty close to it in my book. She’s not in it for the money, either, so you just know she’s gonna end up in some ugly gray cubicle doing thankless pro bono work (which I love her for).
I’m rambling. My point is, we’re heading straight for the Pacific Northwest after her graduation. I want to see those cute little woods from Twilight. After that, who the fuck knows.
Just be warned that my phone will probably be off for the next twelve months, but I’ll be sending postcards. Don’t be too mad if the company struggles to survive without me; I’m sending in a temporary replacement who I think you’ll really love.
I have one question to ask you before I go, though. I want to say it here so I don’t have to risk crying like a pussy if I say it to your face:
Will you be my groomsman?
Your brother in crime,
Cassian
***
Gwyn and Emerie wake tangled in a pile of limbs and sheets. Groaning, the girls push themselves up from the bed—no, that’s hardwood, and blink around at their surroundings. They’re sprawled across Emerie’s bedroom floor, the space littered by empty cans. Late morning sunlight streams in through the single window, making Emerie wince in pain.
��What did we do last night?” Gwyn groans, batting her tangled auburn hair out of her face.
“I wish I could remember,” Emerie grumbles. Her dark eyes catch on a dark marking on her left knuckle, and she goes to rub it off.
She hisses a wince when she touches it and pulls her hand back. “What the…”
Gwyn takes notice of her own middle finger knuckle and squints. “Are these...tattoos?” she says groggily.
“We got matching tattoos? What the hell is this even supposed to be?” Emerie demands. She waves her hand around like it’ll give her answers. “It’s just a V.”
Gwyn uses her half-sober brain to think as hard as she can about what she and Emerie have in common that starts with V. “V for…vagina?”
“V for Valkyrie.”
The girls jump at Nesta’s voice, finally taking notice of her sitting against the wooden dresser.
Nesta, who hates drinking and was unfortunately completely sober for the events of last night.
“We were watching a documentary about Norse culture and mythology,” Nesta goes on, her tone informative and straightforward. “Gwyn was drunk off apple schnapps. You, Emerie, had an entire flask of vodka all to yourself in celebration of your final night as a law student.” Nesta uncrosses her legs and delicately gets to her heeled feet. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t the Norse doc that made you want to get matching Valkyrie tattoos. It was watching Thor: Ragnarok right afterwards.”
“You were sober the whole time and you let this happen to us?” Emerie fumes.
“If I had a mom she would totally kill me for this,” Gwyn whimpers, clutching her newly tattooed hand.
“Oh, it could have been worse, ladies,” Nesta says. “It was going to be much, much worse, but since I was nice enough to look out for your dignities and pay for your tattoos, I convinced us all into getting something small, cheap, and unnoticeable.” She holds out her own left hand, where a dark V sits inked onto a knuckle. “See? Nothing that could scare off our future employers.”
“Aw, you matched with us?” Gwyn practically makes heart eyes, but Emerie bats her arm aggressively to get her to shut up. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something important right now?” Emerie demands.
“Oh, right. We graduate from Prythian School of Law in…” Nesta holds out her wrist and checks her watch. “One hour.”
“Fuck.” Emerie scrambles to her feet, nearly slipping on the way up. “Fuck fuck fuck!” She eyes Nesta’s fully dressed figure in disbelief, heels and blazer dress and sleek hair and all. “You got ready without waking us up?”
“You made your decisions, I made mine.”
Emerie clearly doesn’t have the time to be upset with Nesta, because she’s already speeding toward the shower in a storm of curses. Gwyn chases after her shouting, “Let me shower with you!”
Left alone in the bedroom, Nesta huffs a quiet laugh to herself. Her thumb grazes against the fresh tattoo on her middle finger, and she turns on her heel to clean up the place before they leave.
***
In the end, the winner of Nesta and Emerie’s three year long academic rivalry is Emerie.
Nesta is buzzing with excitement while filming her friend’s valedictorian speech, only dropping her grin when she has to send death glares to graduates that try to stand in the way of her camera. And even though Gwyn is waiting on the other side of the amphitheater with the rest of their friends and family, Nesta can practically hear her squeals from where she sits too.
The weather today feels like a reward for all the hard work Nesta’s done the past year. The sun shines but it doesn’t overheat her, and a cool breeze comforts her as she waits for her name to be called. Not even spending half the year sleeping in an empty bed could stop her from finishing out law school with the highest honors.
When it’s Nesta’s turn to walk the stage and receive her JD, she almost falters at the cheers that erupt from a certain section of the seats.
Straightening her shoulders, she strides to where the dean waits, shaking his hand and accepting her degree. She flashes a glance of irritation toward her guests to let them know that she hears them perfectly fine. That only makes them cheer harder, and Emerie almost jumps Nesta on her way back to her seat. “You did it!” She flings her arms around Nesta’s neck. “Goddammit, you did it!”
Nesta lets out an unrestrained laugh and hugs Emerie back tightly. “You’re next, babe.”
Hearing the announcer finally say “Emerie Nikolis” is almost as exciting as when Nesta heard her own name being called. It makes the rest of the ceremony dull in comparison, mostly because Nesta hardly cares about the rest of her peers. She still isn’t that great at getting along with others, she supposes—more like certain people came into her life with a lightning strike of luck, and they chose to stay. She chose to keep them.
After the ceremony ends and people begin filing out of the amphitheater in lines, Nesta looks around everywhere for a glimpse of Emerie in the sea of people. She wants to bask in their shared success as soon as possible. Instead, she ends up getting caught in a crowd of fresh law grads also searching for their friends and families. Black robes create a blur around her, and her senses itch at the feeling of being trapped, trampled before she can even make it out of the venue—
A warm, broad hand wraps around Nesta’s robed waist, pulling her close and creating a barrier between her and everyone else.
Without a word, Cassian uses his hulking size to create an opening in the crowd, edging people out of the way until they’re out in the open air again at the entrance of the amphitheater.
Offering him a grateful smile, Nesta hobbles onto the curb that runs along the overflowing parking lot. Her feet are asleep from sitting in a hard chair all morning, but she stands steady again when she catches sight of them: Gwyn and Emerie and her sisters, with the rest of their friends and family trailing behind them.
Cassian gives her waist a squeeze before nudging her toward them. In an instant, Nesta is swarmed by a flood of congratulations and gifts, not knowing which way to look or who to pay attention to.
A heavily pregnant Feyre shoves a bouquet of white calla lilies into her arms, and Elain follows with a potted succulent. “Elain grew them herself, but I helped pick them out,” Feyre tells her proudly.
“Thank you,” Nesta manages to say with a grateful smile before her attention is stolen by Azriel, who tugs at her sleeve like a kid wanting attention. “And what did you get for me?” she asks him.
He offers her a smile and two thumbs up. “My love and affection.”
Gwyn smacks him in the arm with a wrapped present and glares. “You’re so cheap. I told you not to come if you couldn’t get anything.”
Azriel rubs his arm in disbelief. “Just put my name on whatever you got!”
She hits him with the present again. “Shut up.” She hits him a third time. “You’re a terrible friend.”
“That’s enough, you’re gonna hurt it,” Emerie snaps, wrestling the gift out of Gwyn’s hands.
Azriel looks grateful if not a little surprised at Emerie coming to his defense. “Thanks, Em.”
“I was talking about this.” Emerie holds up the paper-wrapped gift.
Nesta furrows her brows, wondering who the present is for. It could be for Emerie, since she seems to be carrying no other graduation gifts in her hands—something that instantly concerns Nesta. “Where are your flowers?” Nesta asks her. Surely someone remembered to get Emerie flowers.
Emerie points to her car parked not too far away. “Over there.”
Nesta shouldn’t have worried. Emerie’s beat up car looks like a makeshift garland shop, piled from hood to trunk with flowers, stuffed animals, and edible arrangements. Of course; Emerie has always been more popular than Nesta.
“Oh, I can see my flowers from here!” Mor exclaims with a hand above her eyes, sidling up to Emerie’s side. Nesta keeps her mouth firm against the amused smile that wants to form at Mor’s attempt to get Emerie’s attention. If there’s one thing Morrigan doesn’t know, it’s when to give up.
“Oh really?” Emerie plays along. “Which ones are they?”
“The basket of yellow tulips. Aren’t they pretty?”
“I see.” Emerie pouts at Mor with mock disappointment. “Too bad I’m allergic to tulips.”
Nesta accidentally lets out a cackle when Mor’s face drops, and then quickly shuts her mouth in apology.
Cassian chooses that moment to intervene, dropping a hand onto Mor’s shoulder and tugging her away. “Let’s let the girls have their moment,” he says, shooting a look to his brothers. They get the hint. Az frees Nesta’s hands of her gifts before he and Rhysand each take the arm of an Archeron sister and begin to lead them away, giving Nesta and Emerie and Gwyn some privacy.
Elain’s elbow meets sharply with Azriel’s ribs as they walk away, making him curse and nearly drop Nesta’s bouquet. She says, “Oops, thought I saw a bug.”
“Why is everyone going for me today?” he demands.
Gwyn watches them go over her shoulder, and Nesta sees a spark of concern in her eyes for Azriel’s hurt rib. Then she waves a dismissive hand and mutters, “He’ll be fine.” She turns back to the girls and grabs Emerie’s sleeve. “Give her the gift, give her the gift,” she pleads, bouncing up and down on her toes.
Emerie shakes Gwyn off and snaps, “Give me a second.” She straightens out her wrinkled gown sleeve with a scowl.
Nesta’s brows go all the way up into her hairline, her curiosity finally piqued. “That’s for me?” She nods to the present. It’s shaped like a book or maybe a journal, both options that excite her. She can buy pretty books and fancy journals any time of the year, sure, but getting them as a gift will never turn boring.
Emerie huffs and holds the present protectively to her chest. “It was supposed to be a birthday present,” she says.
“From two birthdays ago,” Gwyn interjects, her teal eyes bright. “Em and I came up with the idea after the ski trip, but by then it was too late to get it ready by your birthday.”
Nesta does the numbers in her head. “It took you guys fifteen months to get this ready?” If she sounds skeptical, it’s because she is.
Emerie shrugs. “Gwyn is a slow…” She trails off at a warning look from Gwyn and amends, “She has her art blocks.”
Gwyn snatches the present from Emerie and thrusts it into Nesta’s hands like she wants to be rid of it. “Here. Open it fast, we can’t wait any longer.”
Gwyn claps her hands together in excitement, but Nesta’s own hands are wary as they wrap around the gift. It’s hard and smooth beneath the wrapping. Definitely a book, and longer than her usual reads.
Nesta’s smile is small as she tears off the paper. “What kind of book takes over a year for you to get?”
She falls silent as the last of the paper falls away, answering her question.
Gold lettering stamped against a deep blue binding stares up at her. The book is beautiful in its simplicity, the title declaring:
THE ADVENTURES OF LADY NESTA
“What’s this?” she whispers.
“I did the writing and Emerie helped with the plot and the manufacturing. We’re a two-woman publishing house,” Gwyn explains, throwing her arms around Emerie.
Nesta carefully opens the book in her hands, not knowing what to expect within the pages.
There are words, obviously. Black ink on off-white paper organized into sentences, and sentences organized into paragraphs. But one word stands out the most among the page she opened up to. Her own name.
“To the valiant Sir Nesta of House Archeron.” The warrior lord raised his cup toward her. The others toasted in suit, “To the valiant Sir Nesta!”
“So it’s a fantasy set in medieval times, kind of like Camelot but not actually Camelot,” Gwyn babbles while Nesta stares at the book in her hands. “And you’re a lady-in-waiting who’s part of the court of a tyrannical king, but you also secretly moonlight as a knight, and you’re also a sorceress, and sometimes you’re a murderer—and the whole time, Em and I are like your super hot magical sidekicks. I’m going to warn you now, though: I did use real people’s names for this, and your character does have graphic sex with Cassian’s character multiple times. If real life Cassian ever learns of the existence of this book, however, I will have to kill him and then you—” She pauses for a big breath.
Emerie stops her right there with a hand to her mouth. “Okay, that’s enough, don’t spoil the whole damn book.”
Nesta looks from Gwyn and Emerie to the book, back to Gwyn and Emerie. “You guys…wrote smut about me in a fantasy setting? And then you had it printed and bound?”
“It’s not like we enjoyed it,” Emerie says defensively, lifting her sharp chin. “It’s a staple of the genre. We figured you wouldn’t read it without any romance.”
“There’s more than smut, though,” Gwyn promises. “There’s magic and power struggles and adventures that test your loyalty and bravery. Give it a chance before getting mad.” She looks worried, afraid that Nesta might actually hate it.
Nesta laughs aloud, but the sound comes out all odd. Her voice cracks when she says, “Why would I be mad?”
“Are you—crying?” Emerie sounds concerned.
Nesta shakes her head, overwhelmed with a feeling she can’t even name. It’s more than joy or awe; it might even be more than love. She focuses back on the book to distract from her tears, opening it to the title page. In smaller print beneath the title are the names of the authors.
Gwyn Berdara
Emerie Nikolis
Nesta then flips to the last page and finds the number on the bottom. 405 pages.
“You wrote all of this about me?” She didn’t even know there was that much to say about her. She laughs tearfully again. “How did you two even come up with this?”
Gwyn shrugs like it’s nothing. “We mostly just wanted to give you something that shows you how we see you.”
Emerie adds in a gentler tone, “We think you’re brave, and smart, and elegant and sometimes scary, and…” She looks to Gwyn. “We were inspired.”
“The heroine’s story might be exaggerated, but it’s basically you, Nesta,” Gwyn says.
Nesta’s eyes start stinging again, and she blinks furiously to keep the emotion away. It’s bad enough that Cassian and her sisters and their friends are pretending not to stare from a distance.
“Check the spine.” Emerie nudges her softly.
Nesta follows her directions and flips the book over. Instead of the title engraved along the hard edge like most books, there are three emblems along the spine. A dagger, a music note, and a book. Matching the charm bracelets each of them still wear today, even though Nesta’s bracelet is dangerously on the verge of falling apart. It only has a few wears left to it before she’ll have to store it away somewhere safe, Nesta being too attached to the cheap purple thread at this point to replace it.
She runs her fingers over the spine in awe, unable to comprehend how much time and labor and money it must have cost her friends to create such a beautifully crafted book. “But… I didn’t do anything for this gift,” she tries to say. “I didn’t even get anything back for you guys.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Emerie assures her. “Consider it a gift for existing. And don’t even think about paying us back,” she adds in warning.
“I’m going to pay you back,” Nesta deadpans. She turns to Gwyn with immeasurable pride in her eyes. “I can’t believe you wrote my favorite book.”
“You haven’t even read it yet,” Gwyn laughs.
“It’s my favorite book,” Nesta repeats. “Thank you.” The words are an understatement; she’s going to sit down and read every page three times as soon as she gets home.
A loud cough suddenly interrupts their moment, and Nesta slides her eyes past the girls to where the rest of the group waits. Azriel looks irritable at Gwyn being away for so long, while Feyre is taking pictures of the three of them like she’s capturing a historical moment. Everyone else is attempting not to look like they’re eavesdropping from where they stand.
“Let’s get back to the group,” Emerie says, taking one of Nesta’s and Gwyn’s arms in her own. “I heard your rich brother-in-law promised everyone overpriced sushi after this.”
“Just because he’s married to my sister doesn’t mean you should call him that,” Nesta scolds as they make their way back to her family.
“Everyone finished crying like little girls?” Rhys asks when they arrive.
Nesta gives a pointed look to Emerie that says, See my point?
“Let me see what you got.” Feyre huddles near her to get a closer look at the book, while Elain pretends to be disinterested but still takes a peek over Feyre’s shoulder.
Despite the claustrophobic feeling of being surrounded, Nesta opens up the book to show her sisters the contents.
While Feyre oohs and ahs over the gift, Azriel says, “Here, take these while you’re at it,” and shoves Nesta’s flowers and potted succulent back into her arms.
She just barely catches them before they fall, her arms now overflowing with gifts.
Before Nesta can be attacked by any more people, Cassian appears and places a firm hand at her back, steadying her balance. “Nesta and I will leave first,” he says in his smooth voice. “Race you to the restaurant.” He throws up a short wave in goodbye and begins to pull her away from the group.
Nesta whooshes out a breath of relief as they leave and mutters, “Thanks.”
He says nothing in return, but Nesta feels his hand tighten imperceptibly around her waist.
***
The group watches Nesta and Cassian go in a mix of suspicion and wariness. It’s silent for a long moment before Elain finally throws out, “Do you think he’s going to do it?”
“No way,” Feyre says. “He wouldn’t do that without telling us, right?”
Mor shakes her head. “No fucking way. It’s Cassian.”
“It’s also Nesta,” Emerie rebuts. “He won’t tell me anything about what he has planned, if he even has anything planned.” The rest of the group murmurs in agreement.
Rhys grumbles aloud, “After abandoning me at the company with Eris Vanserra for the next year, he better not be planning anything without telling me first.”
Gwyn huffs out a sigh of frustration. “It keeps me up at night wondering when he’s going to propose.”
“You sleep fine,” Azriel mutters from behind her.
“It also keeps me up at night wondering how long I’m going to be stuck with you.”
He tucks her arm into the crook of his elbow. “Forever, Carrots.”
Elain forces a polite smile at the show of affection, and then turns abruptly to Rhysand. “I hope you’re also paying for drinks.”
***
“You drive.”
They’re the first words Cassian has said to her face all day, accompanied with a toss of the keys to his truck.
Nesta catches the keys, her arms free from the gifts that now sit in the back seat of the truck. “Really?” she says.
“Yeah.” He’s too nervous to even speak, much less drive with his trembling hands. He takes a deep breath to collect himself and goes over to the passenger side, getting in before he can overthink things.
It was bad enough being torn apart by jealousy while watching Nesta receive Gwyn and Emerie’s book—not that he wasn’t wildly happy for her and the girls, but that it was a sad reminder that Cassian couldn’t give Nesta a gift as well.
He had had it, the perfect gift: a finely crafted music box with a ballerina that spun gracefully when you opened it. He was going to place the ring on the dancer’s outstretched arm for Nesta to find, and now…
Now the music box lies in a hundred pieces in the trash, crushed during an aggressive Nerf gun fight by his reckless brothers.
Rhys apologized—and has been apologizing—profusely for the mistake, but it doesn’t fix anything. Cassian has no gift to celebrate Nesta’s accomplishments, so he can only hope that his words will do the heavy lifting today.
“Nesta.”
“Hm?” She takes her eyes off the road to glance at him.
“Congratulations.” He feels so fucking lame for not having anything more to say, but for her it seems to be enough. A slow smile lifts up the corners of her mouth as she says giddily, “Thank you.”
Cassian shakes his head at the way she shines from his one word. He’s got to get her standards up with this proposal.
“Take a left on this road.” He nods ahead.
Nesta frowns. “Why? I thought we were getting lunch?”
“I need to get something from home first.” He’s not technically lying, but he feels all sneaky like a liar would.
Nesta’s defenses are lower than ever today, because she doesn’t question him once before turning left onto the road that leads to the cabin. It must be that she’s in a good mood—and Cassian is reminded that he could either make this the happiest or the worst day of her life.
They’ve discussed their future together before, but it was always some distant musing, not something that could happen today or tomorrow. Cassian won’t dare to assume what Nesta’s answer will be. He can’t know until he asks.
They pull up to the cabin and get out of the truck, and Cassian wordlessly holds his hand out for the keys. Nesta hands them to him as they walk up to the door. “What do you need to get?” she asks.
“You’ll see,” he promises with a wink. He unlocks the front door and throws it open, walking in first without looking back.
Hearing Nesta’s heels on the hardwood following him inside, Cassian goes off on the search for her ring with a pounding heart.
***
Nesta stops in the middle of the living area, raising her head to admire the fairy lights strung up all around the cabin. Fresh flowers sit in brand new vases everywhere she turns, and the scent of something rich and sweet wafts its way through the house. The only thing it’s missing is a trail of rose petals and some candles. “Did you do all this for me, Cassian?” she calls out laughingly.
Cassian doesn’t reply from wherever he disappeared to down the hall, but Nesta doesn’t mind. She trails an absentminded finger over the back of an armchair, feeling oddly bittersweet.
The cabin has transformed so much in the past year alone, with Nesta and Cassian bringing new things in and throwing old ones out, decorating and redecorating until they found a style that suits both their tastes.
A record player that only ever plays one vinyl is now situated permanently in the corner of the living room, put there by Nesta when Cassian was still in Milan and the only thing that could ease how much she missed him was music. There were times during those months when it felt like she couldn’t survive without him here, times when she couldn’t focus on any of her studies because of how his absence clanged through the cabin.
So she filled the cabin with other people, and she filled it with herself. By the time Cassian returned from Italy, there were little traces of Nesta everywhere: in the deep blue curtains in their bedroom, in the pictures of Gwyn and Emerie at pole dancing class in the entryway, in the beautifully shaded coloring pages stuck to the fridge doors.
He had left her alone, but she never became lonely.
Nesta slips off her graduation gown and carefully folds it over the back of the couch before finally following that warm scent into the kitchen.
There on the middle of the island sits a freshly baked chocolate cake. It towers over platters of other sickeningly sweet desserts, all of them favorites of Nesta’s: triple chocolate chunk cookies, chocolate chip pancakes, chocolate and pistachio macarons.
Written on the cake platter in decorative icing are the words For My Favorite Attorney.
Nesta huffs a quiet but awestruck laugh to herself. “I’m not an attorney yet, you idiot,” she says aloud.
“But you will be.” Cassian’s voice makes Nesta jump. She whirls around to find him standing at one of the kitchen entryways.
“You’ll be the best in town,” he continues, taking a step closer, “and soon you’ll be the best in the state. And before you know it you’ll be hounded by people asking for your expert legal opinion in their cases.”
Nesta rolls her eyes at him and mutters, “If I even pass the Bar at this rate, you mean.” Everyone and their mother has let Nesta know what a terrible mistake it is to go on vacation for a year before taking the Bar. She’s only been a law school graduate for a few hours and she can already feel the information she worked so hard to learn filtering out of her brain; where will her skills be in twelve months’ time when she finally takes the exam?
Nesta knows all of this, and yet…when Cassian first brought up the idea of taking a year-long sabbatical dedicated to traveling, she didn’t hesitate for a moment before saying yes. All ration and reason flew out of her brain and was replaced with one singular desire: to see the world with Cassian.
“You can study on vacation,” Cassian reminds her, coming up to her side and brushing her hair over a shoulder. “You will be studying on vacation, if I have anything to say about it. That’s what this is for.” He nods to the cake and the words written in icing.
He has a point. Nesta turns back to the cake and frowns, taking a closer look at the sloppy frosting work and the attempt to decorate the top with Oreos. “Did you make this yourself?”
“I did,” Cassian says, looking proud and nervous at the same time.
“It looks like you saw one of Elain’s cakes and then tried to recreate it from memory.” Realizing that she sounds too harsh, she belatedly adds, “…Sweetheart.” She doesn’t know if that works to soften the blow or not.
Cassian lets out a real laugh, and she notices some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Try it before you say anything else.”
“Right now?” Nesta’s brow furrows. He put so much time and effort into the array of desserts before her, Nesta thought there would at least be more fanfare before she was allowed to eat anything. Maybe a photoshoot.
“I made it for you, didn’t I?”
If he insists. Nesta swipes a fingertip through the words For My Favorite Attorney and holds it up to Cassian’s lips. “You first,” she orders.
He obeys without second thought, clasping her wrist and bringing her finger to his mouth. He suckles the icing off with a flick of his tongue before pulling away. “Just what I thought.” He licks his lips. “I’m an amazing baker. See for yourself.”
He means for her to try the cake, but instead, Nesta gently takes hold of Cassian’s jaw and brings her mouth to his. His lips part in surprise beneath hers, and she sweeps her tongue into his mouth to taste the lingering icing. She pulls away a long moment later and whispers, “You’re right. Better than Elain’s.”
When he doesn’t respond, Nesta leans back even farther and looks up into his awe-struck face. She worries for a brief moment that she did something wrong. “What are you thinking?”
Cassian’s throat bobs. “I’m thinking…that you look so beautiful today.”
Was that it? Nesta chuckles and starts to move back, but Cassian catches her wrists and keeps her in place. “I’m thinking that I want to see you like this every day,” he goes on. “I want to hear your heels clicking on the floor after a long day at work, and I want to make you dinner every night, and I want to help you choose your clothes the next morning.”
Nesta’s answering smile is small and confused, but he’s not finished.
“I’m thinking I want to raise a living being with you, whether it’s a fish or a whole kid.”
“Cassian…”
“Most of all, I’m thinking that you are my first love.”
Oh.
“And now I’m asking you to be my last.” He lets go of her hands to pull something out of his pocket and place it on the island beside them.
The small box, opened to reveal a delicate ring of gold, sits between them like an offering and a truce. He isn’t shoving it in her face, but rather letting her know that it’s there if she wants it.
Nesta isn’t stupid enough to say that she’s never thought about this. That she hasn’t already considered proposing herself, only to push the idea away out of baseless fears and what-ifs. The potential of change terrified her too much to try anything risky.
She was planning to finally grow a pair during their vacation and ask Cassian the question he deserved to hear, but it’s too late now—while she was waffling around, he beat her to the chase.
Nesta looks from the ring to Cassian, her face blank except for the emotion burning up her eyes. “When did you decide this?”
When was the moment he realized he wanted her until old age and death, in the most binding manner possible? When was the moment he got tired of calling her his girlfriend and decided he would rather call her his wife?
Cassian is unfazed at her deflection. “The moment I got back from Italy last December, I wanted to drop to my knees and beg you to marry me.”
Fair enough; she wanted to marry him in that moment at the airport as well. “Who else knew you were going to propose today?”
“Nobody,” Cassian answers with a rough voice. “I couldn’t tell anyone else because—it’s you. You deserved to be the first to know. I also knew everyone would want to watch it happen, and a public proposal is your biggest nightmare.” He tries to laugh and fails.
He knows her too well.
“You have a lot of questions,” Cassian says, meeting Nesta’s eyes with gentle defiance, “but you still haven’t answered mine.”
“And what question is that?” She needs to hear the words out loud.
“Will you marry me?”
It’s the easiest answer Nesta has ever given. “Yes.” She blinks away tears and repeats, “Yes.”
And just in case her fiancé has telepathy, she thinks Yes yes yes yes yes.
As Nesta pulls Cassian in for a kiss deep enough to cement her answer, sunlight streams into their shared home like outstretched arms, welcoming the beginning of the rest of their lives together.
***
a/n: around 116K words later, we finally did it!! but mostly i did it. im too exhausted for words rn, and it sucked to have to write this epilogue i loved so much while my mental state wasn’t at its best, but … who cares! i finished my first not-book ever!
nesta and cassian and everyone else are far from gone, so if you’re gonna miss them keep your eyes peeled for future stories set in this world :) love u all so much, and as always, thank you for being my first readers.
tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes
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You asked, I deliver! Part II of Accidental baby acquisition💖 I lost one of the asks 😩 but anon who asked about baby Udo, I named the baby in your honour! Saddle up cowboys! I’m not good with sequels but here we are-
Babygate:
the scandal that implies that a certain boy band member cheated on his partner (another band member) and had a kid even when the mom was never pregnant.
- urban dictionary
—
Reiner thinks things are alright. Life is definitely picking up. Pieck still sends him excerpts of her dirty fanfiction to proofread, Bertholdt is still doing all he can to “retire at 30”, Annie might have eloped with said boyfriend. But he’s seeing Porco on the regular now, he’s really cute, he’s got a nice ass. Reiner can’t complain.
He’s also recently donated his Levi Ackerman standee. Only because it’s getting increasingly hard to reconcile the fact that he has a life sized cutout of his colleague’s boyfriend in his room.
What he can complain about is said colleague (and friend) dropping bombs on him. He’s one of the moderators of one of the bigger No Name servers. Sometimes he wonders if that’s a conflict of interest because, well, he knows the guy on a first name basis. But today he has other concerns. He sees his notifications blowing up and decides to go on the No Name server. And lo and behold. There’s a paparazzi shot of Levi and Hanji with a stroller taking a walk in a new channel called “MYSTERY FAMILY?”.
He cancels his plans with Porco. “Don’t text me for the next few hours, got a fire to fight.” He clicks send, and feels kinda bad, so he sends Porco really dank meme to appease him. (That doesn’t stop Porco from doing exactly what Reiner told him not to do and demanding an explanation every five minutes).
He forces himself to take a deep breath before texting Hanji-
“Hanji… I don’t mean to be rude but…
WHAT THE FUCK?”
—
So here begins babygate. A conspiracy theory that took the Internet by storm.
“Levi Ackerman had a secret marriage! He was keeping this from us from the start!”
“It’s a publicity stunt to keep No Name relevant during their hiatus!”
“It’s an elaborate scheme by the company to punish Levi for announcing the hiatus without their knowledge!”
“Levi’s mystery partner was sent by the lizard people to take control of his mind and produce half-lizard, half-human hybrid babies to take over the world! What a bitch!” (This is Hanji’s favourite).
And the internet’s favourite- this is all an elaborate scheme to cover up the scandalous love affair between Levi and Eren- the band’s guitarist.
“What the fuck?” Levi had said during dinner once, to which Reiner had to swallow his food and pretend he never read or actively looked up ereri content. Yes. Reiner knows the name of their ship.
Levi hadn’t been too worried before, but when pictures of them shopping for baby stuff leaked online, something snaps. Something snaps and Erwin tells him he needs more time to figure out the biggest PR crisis in No Name history.
It’s Levi. Levi is the PR crisis.
So in the meantime, no shock reveals, no more social media, (if possible) no more leaving the house with pregnant girlfriend in tow. “Don’t do ANYTHING.” Erwin had said, “especially not you!” Erwin had directed that at Eren, who suggested he makes an announcement. Erwin shudders. He remembers all the past scandals they got themselves into just because Eren, bless him, didn’t know when to shut up.
“I’m sorry…” Levi says to Hanji when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching a documentary on whale migration.
“Huh?” Hanji says, voice muffled through her incessant sniffling because “whales are delivered tail first, Levi! They wear their mothers like hats!”
He apologises for putting her through the mess that is him and his job. And Hanji smiles at him. He wonders if their kid will look like her. He’s hoping they would.
“Levi…” Hanji sighs, taking his face in her hands, “that night at the bar I thought to myself ‘this man has a face I would risk it all for’… I think this counts within the realms of ‘all’”
Levi scoffs, but a smile is threatening the corners of his lips. Erwin’s nagging over the phone fades a little and he sinks a little lower into the couch. He sighs one more time for good measure before saying-
“So… you wanna know which my favourite babygate theory is?”
—
“And you’re really not bothered by all this?” Reiner asks, in an emergency meeting that he had scheduled into her calendar. He hates that he’s packing things into her already busy schedule when she’s about to pop but, he figures it’s better now than when the baby’s actually out. He had booked a meeting room and everything, figuring if he projected some of the crazy shit they’re saying on the fan boards up on screen, Hanji would start taking this seriously. Because if Reiner knows anything, it’s that the fans will do anything to keep their ship afloat.
He scrolls past another post on the lizard people and Hanji gets him to pause.
“I mean… A little?” Hanji pinches her fingers together.
“Hanji…” Reiner sighs, “you and Levi discuss and rate babygate conspiracy theories you find online I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all…”
Hanji looks at Reiner- an absolute state of panic. And she considers panicking for a moment. She’s read articles dissecting babygate and although they’re absolutely batshit, Hanji appreciates how well-researched they are. Which is a little scary. To be fair to Levi, he’s been trying to get her to worry. “I can’t keep you safe all the time, you have to be careful” like he’s going off to war somewhere. But it’s not in Hanji nature to worry about things like this. She’s a researcher at a lab who lived an ordinary life up until the point the universe hit her with a-
Sike! Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy! What are you gonna do about it?
And now she knows what headcanons and lemons are, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. So Hanji decides, she’ll do nothing. She’ll go on indulgently long walks Levi in tow, she’ll talk his ear off about work. And like a good girlfriend, she’ll listen to his demos (and enjoy them) and tell him “are you sure anger rhymes with danger?”.
“I don’t really know how to worry about anything beyond our samples getting contaminated…” Hanji says, sheepish. Reiner sighs. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket on Hanji’s life. He wants to be fun Reiner. Cool as a cucumber. Reiner who manages to make it through dinner at Hanji’s without having to excuse himself to hyperventilate in her bathroom because Levi is right there. And he’s so afraid that he might just be able to read his mind and find out he had looked up Levi Ackerman x y/n fanfiction once in his foolish youth (youth being approximately four months back)
Reiner shudders.
“Yeah okay… That’s um… That’s cool… Right?” He says.
Hanji shrugs.
—
So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what?
You go into labour of course, with a matter of fact- “oh. Look Levi. The water broke.” All while refusing to leave the house until you demolish that amazing sandwich he made for you. You go into labour and you yell and grunt like a beast as you squeeze the life out of your baby daddy because he kinda deserves it. You both kinda deserve this pain. Take it as heavenly punishment for being horny and stupid if you will.
And in the middle of it Hanji thinks huh, this feels like a mix of a reality TV show from MTV and a badly written fanfiction. Except Hanji isn’t a teen mom and she’s too old for self-insert fiction that involves a lead singer of a popular band.
But Levi is here, and he doesn’t complain one bit even though he looks like he’s about to pass out. So as far as drunken one night stands go- this is pretty damn aspirational.
The baby enters the world with a huge cry.
“Kid’s got a huge set of lungs…” Levi says, but his own voice is quivering.
“Just like her dad…” Hanji smiles.
As he watches Hanji fall asleep with their baby on her chest, Levi thinks fuck it. Fuck keeping this under wraps. Fuck the fans and them enjoying how Eren gets on his nerves. Fuck Erwin and his “Levi. You’re giving me a headache. You are the cause of this headache.” Because the baby has Hanji’s nose and his eyes and he loves them more than anything in the world.
He snaps a picture of them and tags bigdaddyzoë-
“Welcome to the world, my love.”
—
Reiner can’t help the tears that well in his eyes after seeing the picture Hanji had sent him of the baby-
“He says hi to his favourite uncle!” Was the caption, and Reiner could only reply with a crying cat meme and an incoherent text that Hanji favourites.
He’s on the bus on the way to the hospital when his phone buzzes incessantly. It’s Porco.
“REINER WHAT THE FUCK.”
“LEVI ACKERMAN IS HANJI ZOË’S BABY DADDY?”
“HANJI ZOË MY PHD SUPERVISOR?”
“LEVI ACKERMAN OF NO NAME?”
“REINER WHAT THE FUCK?”
He sends a reply at the entrance of the hospital-
“Welcome to my world”
—
Reiner thinks things are alright. He’s one of the moderator of one of the bigger No Name servers, so he can block and remove people at his discretion. Some days he lets it get to his head. It makes him feel like a king. But today, he’s putting out fires.
Erwin decided their PR strategy was absolutely no strategy, because “they’re zooming in on the pixels Levi. Once they doubt the pixels, they won’t believe anything we’re saying”. With that. Babygate has officially taken on a life of its own. Eren still sends Levi babygate articles to annoy him, and to Hanji because she asked very nicely. Hanji thinks Erwin’s strategy makes sense, Levi thinks it’s just lazy. But Erwin framed a certificate that says “survived a PR crisis (sort of)” that Hanji had insisted be hung up on their wall, so that closes one chapter. Besides, Eren has been spotted going out on dates with a mystery girl. Which has the double effect of diverting attention away from Levi and exacerbating babygate because “see? Told you the company’s doing all they can to prove they’re not together!”
“Can’t you keep it in your pants?” Levi had thrown at Eren, to which he had responded cleverly with a-
“Could’ve said the same for you!”
Touché…
“See? That can’t be Levi! Look at how he’s smiling!”
“That can’t be a baby! Looks like an animatronic to me!”
“Do they even make animatronics that realistic?”
Reiner pins his “no slander” rule- one day they’ll get it. Or at least he would’ve gotten rid of all the people that don’t.
“Who’s this bigdaddyzoë anyway?”
“Maybe she isn’t real? Company probably invented her…”
“Heard she’s a crazy groupie who got knocked up…”
“Heard she’s hot…”
… several people are typing
—
“So… I heard from Reiner you were defending my honour in the server?” Hanji quirks an eyebrow.
Levi shrugs. Whatever goes down in the server stays between Leviackerman173810 (leviackerman and all 173809 permutations of said username had already been taken) and the hundreds of people who haven’t quite figured out he’s the real deal. Besides, Erwin has issued him three warnings so it’s best to lay low for now.
“My hero…” Hanji chuckles, pressing a kiss on Levi’s head. Below them, baby Udo wriggles and yawns against the fabric of Levi’s shirt. Cute.
So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what? You look at your son and know he’s going to break hearts like his father of course. And if you’re Levi, you pray to god he never asks about babygate because Hanji has read up enough about it to be considered a connoisseur.
One day the internet will break when they find out the identity of bigdaddyzöe. But for now baby Udo has his parents wrapped around his tiny fingers and he doesn’t quite understand the concept of him being the spawn of every typical band member x y/n fanfiction. Or the centre of a very popular, very absurd, yet strangely believable internet conspiracy theory. Or the canon plot that has sunk one of the biggest No Name ships. And that’s okay.
#babygate was a 1D conspiracy theory#levihan#whoopwhoop!#levi x hange#levi x Hanji#Drabble#inbox#anon#mine#again Pieck is me#un beta-Ed I’m sure it’s full of mistakes#shingeki no kyojin#Levi Ackerman#hange Zoë#celebrity au
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Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter
SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER
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They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.
And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.
In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.
“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”
Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.
“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”
Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.
Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!
She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.
Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”
Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”
Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”
Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”
Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”
The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”
Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.
“Why….” She asked breathlessly.
“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.
“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”
“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.
“It was Naruto’s idea.”
“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”
“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.
“Thank you, everyone.”
--------------------------------
It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.
They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.
Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”
“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”
“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”
“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”
In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”
They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.
“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.
“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.
“Do you miss the cream puffs?”
“Nothing comes close.”
“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”
In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”
“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.
“Don’t need one.”
“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”
“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.
Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”
“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”
“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”
With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.
Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.
“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”
Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”
“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”
“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”
Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.
“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.
“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”
“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.
“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”
“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.
“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.
Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.
Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”
“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.
“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.
“Who is it?”
“Sasuke also likes someone.”
“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”
“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”
“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”
The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.
“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”
--------------------------------
Graduation Day
“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.
His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.
“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.
But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”
Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.
“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”
Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.
“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”
Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.
“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”
Laughter broke out.
“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”
When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.
It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.
Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”
Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.
Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.
In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”
She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.
Then, she let her tears fall.
--------------------------------
“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.
“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.
“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”
In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”
“Grumpyyyyyy.”
“Idiot blondie.”
Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.
“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”
Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.
It was the last picture of their high school life.
--------------------------------
The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.
“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”
“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.
“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”
“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.
The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.
The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.
“I’ll miss you.”
#SCPS#student council president sakura#haruno sakura#uchiha sasuke#uzumaki naruto#hatake kakashi#team 7#sasusaku#kakasaku#narusaku#fic!pseudolily#fic!pinkhairedlily
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oof googling for trans men and/or transmasculinity in film is uh... hmmm
With trans people involved
Documentary - 10 movies:
The Brandon Teena Story
A Boy Named Sue
Gendernauts
No Ordinary Man
One Of The Guys
Instructions For Survival
Shinjuku Boys
Southern Comfort
The trans list
Transparent
- I’d honestly recommend all of the above, although there are a couple I haven’t seen, but just because it feels important to hear people speak to their own experience, even if sometimes the structure around them isn’t always... inspiring. The Brandon Teena story is about his murder, so TW for that. I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch it yet, so I don’t know if he’s misgendered in it.
Feature films - 5 movies:
By Hook or by Crook (an experimental film about two petty criminals - a movie I wish had a bigger budget, but fascinating in what it attempts to do and the artistry of the leads! Also the only one of these four I’ve actually seen yet)
52 Tuesdays (about the transition of a parent, filmed over the course of 52 Tuesdays)
Rurangi (came out 2021, I haven’t seen it or spoiled the narrative - I know “there are trans people in it” shouldn’t be enough to sell a move for me, but friends... there are four feature movies on this list)
Open (2010 - um... okay I feel like I’ll mis-represent this film if I try to explain it, especially since I haven’t seen it yet. But it’s not about transitioning or hatecrimes, wahay!)
Adam (NOT the 2019 Adam movie. This isn’t technically a movie, it’s a play, but I wanna add it, because for anyone who has BBC Iplayer or can get it, it’s a play based on the real life of Adam Kashmiry, who also plays the lead. It’s about Adam trying to navigate the UK immigration system as a transgender asylum seeker from Egypt and it’s Intense, but so so good and beautifully shot. 1 hour)
Movies with cis people playing trans people
About kids “questioning” or “transitioning” / about the parents
3 Generations (no.)
Tomboy (I will watch this film, because I’ve heard it’s actually quite sympathetic and well-made)
Minor character is trans
Adam (2019) (so everything I’ve heard about this is bad. If I’m correct: Cis boy pretends he’s a trans boy in order to sleep with lesbians? Which is... wrong. On so many levels...)
Itty Bitty Titty Comittee (I’ll watch this at some point, it’s about lesbians and it’s by Jamie Babbit and I love But I’m A Cheerleader)
Tragedy
Boys Don’t Cry (lol, we all know this one)
Vera (this one was made in the 80s. so I might actually give it a go. I think it’s about a real person, which will at the very least will introduce me to a real trans person, even if it’s through a very distorted lens)
Misc cis actors
A good man (A trans guy offers to carry the baby, because his cis partner can’t. See this sounds so good, why not cast a trans guy in this? It doesn’t have good reviews)
Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls (even vaguer, it’s unclear if this character – who’s a villain – is a transgender woman or a transgender man)
Pierrot Lunaire (I will not watch this movie. I watched the trailer and... no. I recommend the trailer for anyone who wants to figure out if they want to watch this, because I think the aesthetics will be the breaking point. A cis girl introduces her trans boyfriend (who she doesnt know is trans) to her dad. He Suspects Something Is Up).
Two4One (uh, so it’s a comedy... I think it’s a cis guy playing the lead trans guy, so at least it got that part right. Idk I was just very uninspired by it, sorry, if anyone tells me it’s actually great I’ll eat these words).
Romeos (I was actually gonna watch this and then I read it’s just full of transphobia? Why would I subject myself to a bunch of that if it’s not even considered that good and there are no trans actors in it. Pass)
If there’re any beyond this, let me know. TV’s doing... so much better, truly fascinating how far behind film is lagging.
#i ought to do a separate one for short films#there seems to be more going on in short films - jake graf has made at least a few + we forgot to break up#i think the problem with short films is often they're hard to find/shown in 3 local festivals and then disappear#trans media#queer media#transgender film#queer film
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