"They are each other's oxygen, each other's fuel, each other's water, energy." normal things to say, normal things to say.

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"They are each other's oxygen, each other's fuel, each other's water, energy." normal things to say, normal things to say.

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i think every publisher should have to institute a ban on books that fail what i’m calling the “little life” and “what else?” tests
for reference.
my unpopular opinion (i think?) is that shane doesn't really use pet names on ilya, at least not at first and not before he works through some of his internalized homophobia, and then, the first time he absentmindedly drops a 'babe' on ilya, ilya nearly brains himself on the nearest surface
like everything with them, it happens during sex first. ilya's eating him out slow and sloppy, spit dripping down his chin, two fingers teasing at shane's prostate, when shane pulls his hair and whines "ilya, baby, please."
blood rushes to ilya's dick so fast he almost blacks out. baby. he pulls away. shane whines again, pulls again, begs again, "nononono don't stop, baby, please--"
"say it again," he croaks. he'd meant it to come out stronger than that, but he's fighting shane's hold and flailing for the lube and trying to slick himself all at once while his brain goes baby baby baby he called me baby i'm his baby.
"please."
"not that. what did you call me? call me that again."
he lines himself up while shane tries to collect himself. finally recognition lights his eyes. he sniffles. "...baby?"
ilya sinks into him with a groan. shane's tighter than they usually like, but he keeps pressing forward anyway, through the stretch, through the heat, through their combined cries of pleasure, and he fucks shane until neither of them can speak.
after that, shane quickly learns calling ilya "baby" is the quickest way to make his brain stop working. ilya gets him a ginger ale from his parents' fridge, shane says "thank you baby" and ilya walks into the wall. they're coming off the ice after practice, shane says "hey babe don't forget--" and ilya trips over his own skates and almost causes a ten-Centaur pileup. shane says "babe will you--" and ilya stands up so fast he bangs his knee on the table.
but he never gets embarrassed no matter how ridiculous he looks, and he never chirps back no matter how relentlessly he's mocked. if anything, he leans into it all, puffing out his chest and playing up his reactions until shane's belly laughing with delight.
"is only reaction when you are shane hollander's baby," he declares. "only natural. no other choice. you would not know this. you will never understand. he is mine, and only i am his baby."
every morning i wake up & get my coffee & i recite in my head this excerpt from ‘invitation,’ by mary oliver: “it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world.” & i just say it over & over again until it sticks to my mind for the rest of the day. it is a serious thing. i am alive. i am so lucky. this fresh morning i get the chance to live again & again & again
mid-way pride month check-in
just saw someone comment under a videoclip of the sylvia rivera interview where she insists on the modern (circa 2001) pride movement being a capitalist smokescreen, a “straight gay” movement that worships the almighty dollar, that:
and this person is likely quite young but this really really really captures the limited imagination of capitalist neoliberal indoctrination around freedom and liberation. radical queerness treated as a paintjob over a prison as opposed to the bulldozer that tears the prison down. we have to dream for so much more and endure the pain of dreaming.

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Hello everyone. I'm an nb trans woman. i'm trying to complete my master's in environmental science. i have no money and my employer just this week dropped my hours to near zero. I need to bridge the gap to the next job. please, anything helps. If you like my posts, i invite you to donate.
my venmo is @str-ngeloop.
please, yall
Having watched the finale, and digested it (somewhat), I wanted to articulate one of the many things about the show that I have loved and always long to see in fiction. That is, the ouroboros of nature/nurture, excuses/explanations, abused/abuser. I sincerely appreciate that Gadd allows several things to be true at once, as they are in real life.
By the end, we are able to see that Niall is a conniving liar, lacking in empathy and a sense of duty to others, a misogynist who is content to treat women and children as collateral, unwilling to take offered opportunities (even as an adult) to self-reflect and to improve himself. He is cruel and petty and selfish. His own suffering is where the world begins and ends.
Ruben is a violent rapist, a murderer, a bully, a lazy sexist, and a brute. His self-image is as fragile as spun sugar, and he holds life cheaply enough that people (both men and women) may be considered merely things to be destroyed and obliterated, property to be held or discarded.
(They are, I think, both addicts).
And yet.
They are the products of their environments, as we all are. The choices that we are capable of making as adults are made possible by the nature of the mechanisms with which we are fitted in our formative years. How are we composed, mixed, alloyed, wired, patched, rigged up, constructed brick by brick, or chipped and chipped and chipped like the knapping of flint? (Pick your metaphor, I suppose).
Niall is bullied, abused, assaulted, raped, dismissed, mocked and belittled, again and again and again. As a child, as an adolescent, as an adult. His opinions, views, fears, doubts and worries are minimised and invalidated repeatedly. If we are supposed to learn moral courage, compassion, and emotional intelligence from adults/elders/family, then who, precisely, was modelling any of these things for Niall?
Ruben is raped, abused, (implicitly) neglected, left behind and passed around from home to home, institution to institution. He is everyone's problem because he is no one's responsibility. (And certainly should never have been Niall's). If we are supposed to develop a sense of self-control as we grow, to understand boundaries and autonomy, to learn to recognise the necessary barriers between self and other, how, exactly, was Ruben meant to grasp any of this? Who is showing him the way, and making him feel safe?
Of course, these are explanations for their behaviour, not excuses. Or are they? Where does one end and the other begin? At what point can we say that decisions made as an adult should not be allowed to sprout from the muck of our childhood any longer? Our 20s, 30s, 40s? When, when?
And is it even possible to do otherwise?
I've personally been frustrated with reviewers and critics who have found Niall and Ruben crudely drawn or unbelievable, and most effectively read only as metaphors of masculinity, because those critics haven't the experience or wit to imagine real people living such lives.
I am in my 30s, a parent, a homeowner, employed, responsible, sensible...an adult by any metric. I still make decisions that have their origin in childhood experiences and trauma. It is draining to be constantly on guard against an earlier iteration of yourself, to act in opposition to wiring installed by a shoddy workman. And, obviously, there is plenty to be said for the way in which boys/men are permitted or quietly encouraged to react to trauma, and the ways in which women are disallowed these modes of expression. (And must, like women generally do, perform the cleaning up afterwards).
Nevertheless, reckoning with abuse means that it costs you to fight your worse instincts, just as it costs you to pursue them when you fall into old patterns.
So, when do you get to put down the burden of such work?
(When you die).
max irons talking about mycroft as a brother to sherlock, and how his irritation with him is balanced out by his care for him and his understanding of his neurodivergence. max irons explaining that mycroft is used to being told that his brother is the most interesting thing about him and that he himself agrees. max irons understanding that mycroft is just as intelligent as his brother but in a much more linear way to sherlock . Yeah he Gets it. he owns mycroft holmes now !!! Sorry !!!
remembering the last time ruben ever said i love you to niall he didn’t call him brother, dropping all pretense, all boundaries in the final moment, just the simple truth in his final moments “i fucking love you”

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looking at this now is like. straight emotional terrorism. THEY HAD SUCH A CHANCE
a friend with a boyfriend is a type of dead wife
"give me a gay break will ya" is becoming part of my lexicon immediately
lisle von rhuman to madeline ashton in deathbecomesher 1992
happy pride everybody
Derry Girls + homosexuality

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'campaign for the skate + snowboard shop so hip it hurts' in lürzer's int'l archive (ads, tv + posters worldwide) vol. 1 - 2009
VERONICA MARS & LOGAN ECHOLLS Veronica Mars | Season One