it's oddly comforting to be in love with men that i know i'll never have
i don't understand why
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I LOVE when marriage in media isn't portrayed as a chain around your neck and a total hell
like yes bitch don't let some miscommunication get in the way of your relationship, TALK IT OUT LIKE ADULTS YESSSS!!!! STICK UP FOR ONE ANOTHER WHEN SOMEONE'S BADMOUTHING YOUR SPOUSE BECAUSE YOU LOVE THEM AND YOU WON'T TAKE THAT SHIT YEEEEAAAHHHH!!! BANTERING WITH EACH OTHER THAT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE STRAIGHT UP BULLYING BECAUSE YOU FEEL THAT COMFORTABLE AROUND THEM TO BE PLAYFUL AND FUN LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! KEEP THE PROMISES YOU MADE IN YOUR VOWS AW YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!
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I am so normal about the way Wilbur Says Things in Normal People Things
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I’m compiling all my Marcy headcanons in one place and they all vary wildly in tone
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🗣️ Darlin', you give love a bad name
Found this in my old wip folder and it feels now more relevant than ever :)
Also these don't know why I never uploaded these they were just sitting there completely finished:
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i love the group names that mcyts come up with for themselves when they get the opportunity. mumscarian have just now officially named each other the buttercups,
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what part of italy are machete and vasco from? not their birthplace since from what i've seen you're still workshopping that. where do they live? i assume rome?
In the 1500's setting Vasco lives and was born in Florence, his family has lived there for centuries. Machete was born in Sicily, was taken to Naples to serve as an apprentice and ended up living and working in Rome (and more specifically today's Vatican city, which as you may know has been an independent country since 1929 but wasn't back then). They first met when they were both studying in Venice in their late teens/early twenties.
I think in the modern au they live together somewhere in Florence.
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I love how MILGRAM keeps leaving little details that show us that haruka has difficulty with his motor skills. Motor clumsiness is quite common in neurodivergent people, in this case its fine motor skills and its seen on a daily basis in difficulty tying braids or ties, problems doing manual work that requires accuracy (like origami!! folding or cutting paper, grasping small objects). Gross motor problems involve difficulty moving around, poor hand-leg coordination, miscalculating one's own position in space which causes us to bump into objects or people etc etc
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I'm pretty sure there's only two types of bassists in this world
- quiet, probably dorky man with long hair (coin flip on whether he plays only 4 notes or approximately ALL the notes)
- the hottest woman you've ever seen in your life
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It's so interesting and so exceedingly frustrating how agab is being utilized now within the queer community as a way to isolate and sort nonbinary and genderqueer folks into binary boxes that determine their moral purity levels, and their authority to do and write and exist.
The way nonbinary writers are being put under accusation of fetishizing gay men while their AGAB is continually brought up in a way that feels like queer-space-approved misgendering.
The way feminist circles that are supposedly trans-inclusive will use the word AFAB in a way that implicitly but intentionally isolates nonbinary people who aren't AFAB from joining. It's for women*.
The way the language is already flawed and leaves out intersex folks from the conversations while focusing on a binary of sex that isn't truthful.
The constant obsessing over whether someone is AFAB or AMAB and whether or not that gives them the privilege to join, do, write, or be present in certain spaces really really concerns me. How are we supposed to dismantle a binary system of gender if we can't even move past forcibly assigning and focusing on people's genders assigned at birth?
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It’s thirsting o’clock… cause your comment on the gif set of the hug after Tim says goodbye to his dad 😭
Can we talk about how big his stupid(ly attractive) hands are!? And also how when he hugs her — like in the dad ep (I forgot the number) and in the laundry room in 5x21 most notably — how his arm wraps around her entire back…
Idk how it’s hot but it is and we should all talk about it more. 😂
I know, right? There's something so attractive in the way his hand covers most of her back… Or her head… I don't know why but this thing is always my undoing. Maybe because it is a physical representation of how he protects her… How he can shield her with his whole body and give them both that safe space when they need it… Or maybe it's just the tall/small dynamic…
Hugs are my kryptonite and these two have some of the best hugs ever.
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My new favorite thing? I think you mean OUR new favorite thing :)))
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acts of service
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I genuinely think the best video genre on YouTube is the niche genre of gay people doing video game voice acting improv. Genuinely those videos are the funniest shit ever.
And yes the people doing it have to be queer as gay people are just objectively funnier that’s a fact.
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Big fan of fantasy settings that turn classic monster types into more abstract archetypes that fit within the magic system.
Dragons in Pact aren’t just big magic lizards that sometimes fly or breathe fire, they have a specific place in the universe, with each one being an ouroboros, a perpetual motion machine, an infinite feedback loop of some kind of power, often but not necessarily elemental. A god that worships themself, a fire that burns itself as fuel, a spring that acts as its own water source, a battery that powers itself. They aren’t always reptilian, but default to forms reminiscent of dinosaurs as the last dominant group of organisms before the rise of mammals and humans. They’re one variation on a broader concept in the universe, of knots, places or beings or circumstances where the usual balances and flows of the universe have stopped working as they should.
Bogeymen in Pact are a way of unifying the wide variation in specifics of horror movie monsters and slashers, preserving the uniqueness of each one while keeping the shared themes of fear and implacability and refusal to stay dead in the sequel; each one is someone who fell into the Abyss, a dimension that feeds on pain and fear and specializes in forcing its victims to sacrifice their humanity to improve their own situation, and got out by agreeing implicitly to become the Abyss’ agent in the mundane world, dragging more people down to keep themself afloat.
@artbyblastweave also has a great non-Otherverse concept of Minotaurs emerging from mass death in a labyrinthine area.
So I was thinking about Gorgons. There’s a lot of variation to this Greek myth, but the gist is that if someone looks at a gorgon, they turn to stone. Also they have living snakes for hair which is sick. The Basilisk and Cockatrice are other monsters that are usually described as having similar powers, though in some versions they poison or burn rather than petrify, and in others it’s what they look at that ends up poisoned/burned/petrified, instead of what looks at them. Also they tend to be more bestial and might incorporate some bird parts in addition to the reptile parts.
The reason for why they have this power ranges from “cursed by gods” to “they’re just like that”, but I think an interesting interpretation would be in a similar vein to Pact’s dragons. They’re beings that embody such a potent source of a particular element or substance or power, that they’re incredibly reactive or contagious, so much that even looking at them or being seen by them provides an avenue for their essence to cross and infect. They arise from too much power being forced into too small a container, until pressurized enough to burst out along any path of least resistance, rapidly conducting along any connection. The ‘snakes’ seen in some gorgons are in fact plumes of their energy leaking out, like the corona of a star, reptilian emission spectra. The heads of some gorgons may appear to those who manage to view them indirectly as like blooming flowers, bristling with invertebrate legs, pierced with spikes, or radiant with halos; these are only ever brief glimpses however, as even indirect viewers are almost immediately blinded. The ‘crown’ that gives basilisks (from basiliskos, ‘little king’) and cockatrices (spelling influenced by resemblance to a rooster’s comb) their names is the same phenomenon.
‘Gorgon’ could be interpreted as specifically the stone or earth infused variant of this being, while ‘Basilisk’ could be fire and ‘Cockatrice’ poison, or they could all just be treated as interchangeable. A fire gorgon cause viewers to spontaneously combust, a water gorgon melts its spectators, to look on an air gorgon is to vaporize. Gorgons vary in power, and not all are able to instantly convert the whole body, but even the weakest are usually fatal due to the close proximity of eyes to brain. The victims that escape direct eye contact with only blindness or nonlethal brain damage are few and lucky. Even a reflection of some more powerful gorgons can be enough to turn eyes to stone or melt them out of their sockets. A potentially related phenomenon is seen elsewhere in Greek myth, with Zeus and Semele, and in the Bible, with Lot’s wife. While mortals gazing on Lovecraftian horrors may lose their minds, those who witness the true power of a god are annihilated or become a pillar of salt.
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at the asian american studies sponsored movie screening i run out of my seat to press a button for the presenter and you look away, not in shame, but in anger
go make your own movie.
One where you’re the star
and everything’s my fault
the way you want it to be. I know, it’s easy
to let someone else hold this grief
and sit in the bathtub,
all dressed up to go to the party.
Maybe in this movie it’s your party
and I the party crasher,
holding cymbals and a baseball bat, et cetera.
But we don’t stop getting older when we’re angry
and you’re only twenty,
can’t listen to lullabies at night,
can’t sleep without a blanket
over your head like you’re scared
of your own shadow. God, go
write your own movie.
You could do it,
you’re still
pretty. Angry? Me too.
The bathtub’s overflowing,
the bathroom’s flooding
with whatever you couldn’t say
to the poet with their palms glued shut
in a cheap simulacrum of prayer.
Didn’t you say you were tired? Angry? Me too.
Upset? Unhappy? Me too. Hungry? Lonely? Me too. Me too.
Standing barefoot in the grass
I remembered the month of bad weather.
How I parted the fog with broken hands each night,
looking for your voice.
Oh, I will not forgive you.
Not like this.
With your fingers splayed
against the brute February sky,
lips cracked open like windows,
waiting, like you always are, for me to say the first word.
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