This Made Me Tear Up - Tumblr Posts
An Asexual's love letter to Good Omens 2
There's an infamous quote by Neil Gaiman going around, regarding the general vibe of season 2, and many people (I believe humorously) yelling that it could not be further from the truth. Particularly in the last episode, where that happens.
I disagree.
The final episode of season 2 was deeply, deeply comforting to me.
I am asexual. Have been my whole life. Even before I had the words to describe what that was, child-me had this feeling in their gut of being an outlier, that everyone was exaggerating, or in on some joke, that I wasn’t privy to. Because I was bombarded on all sides by shows and movies and books, telling the same story of love, again, and again, and AGAIN. It’s drilled into our brains with the same fervor as the days of the week, or the quadratic formula. Meet-cute -> misunderstanding ->declaration of feelings ->kiss. More or less steps can be added to account for runtime or complexity of narrative, but that’s the basic structure that a relationship follows. It MUST be, because that’s the formula every character who's ever been in a story goes through, often times when it even feels like an add-on, like it’s only there because this is a story, there HAS to be a romance. And it has to follow the steps.
For a long time, I felt love wasn’t for me, because if there’s only one way to be in love, I sure as hell wasn’t feeling it.
Instead, the relationship I ended up in looked a lot like what Beezlebub and Gabriel go through. Meeting someone routinely until it starts to feel comfortable. Getting to know them and slowly growing more attached. Eating chips and listening to music.
We like to joke whenever someone asks us how long we’ve been together, because the answer is we just sort of slowly fell into it, and we honestly don’t know when the line got blurred between ‘friends’ and ‘partners’. And, at least for me, a good deal of that confusion, that hesitancy to label, came from the fact that what I was feeling, what we were, couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be romantic.
We were just quiet and gentle.
And that wasn’t love.
Because it was slow, because it wasn’t physical, because there was no structure aside from consistency and companionship. Because it didn’t follow the Rules.
Then I found myself in stories, and it felt like a revelation.
Beelzebub and Gabriel aren’t the first time I’ve seen a love like I feel represented in a narrative, but it never stops feeling special. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop celebrating it.
Throughout the sequence in the pub, I kept expecting them to “confirm” Gabriel and Beelzebub. A dramatic line, a kiss, a whatever. That’s what I’ve been taught to expect, after all, that’s the only way a relationship is “real”. Of course, this doesn't mean Crowley and Aziraphale sharing a dramatic kiss is wrong, or that I can’t see why it resonated with so many people, but for me. Those moments in the pub are worth so much more.The last scene might have been literally showstopping, but those handful of moments between the duke of hell and an archangel were the beating heart of the season for me. A simple love story in four scenes. No kisses. No ‘I love you’s. Not even any definition of what. The love Gabriel and Beelzebub have is strong enough for them to both want to shatter their worlds and flee their lives and it's just.
It's just that.
Two people in a pub, playing the other's favorite song, giving a little gift, buying a packet of crisps.
That sequence means far more to me than any kiss ever could.
Love isn’t only real when it's hot and sudden and ephemeral, it can also be
Quiet.
And gentle.
And still romantic.
Still real.
Spoilers for The Mimic (Tales from the Pizzaplex: Nexie)
do you think The Mimic understands mortality? Does it know it's killing people as opposed to just, disassembling endos? Did it know about mortality when David died, or did it learn when it began to kill other people?
Does the Mimic know how to wash its hands? Does it still sing the ABC's in order to know its washed them long enough? What's its favorite color, is it red? Does it stare at the red stains in the sink as it sings the ABC's?
Does the Mimic know that David is dead? That its bestest friend in the whole wide world isn't coming back to play with it again? Does the Mimic ever wonder where David is, or what happened to him? Did the Mimic see him die? Does the Mimic wonder if it hurt?
Does the Mimic understand that it wasn't its fault? That it was a child too and that it wasn't responsible? That what happened was tragic, but that Edwin should have been watching David? Does the Mimic think that it killed David? Does that make it easier to kill the others?
Once you start, it gets easier every time.
Does the Mimic know how many people its killed? Does it understand the gravity of 23 casualties? Does it sing the Clean Up song every time it cleans the scene of a murder? Does it ever wonder where its plushie went? Does it have nightmares like a child? Does it ever wish Tiger Rock was real, and soft, and that it could hold him like it used to?
Does the Mimic ever sit in the basement, a sad, scared child...? Does it ever miss its friend? Does it ever miss Edwin? Even a little bit?
What does it think of him? Of any large, older men? Does it associate all fatherly figures with the pain? With being bludgeoned and left behind? Does it hear the sound of cars - the engines, the horns, the screech of tires - and feel the knots of wires tying themselves up tight in its chest?
Does the Mimic ever want? Does it yearn?
Do you think someone could ever help coax that little kid out of it again?
running up that hill (a deal with god) is actually a perfect holy week song because it could feasibly be taken to be from the perspective of Jesus towards humanity, in this essay I will
Hi! I was looking at the cottagecore tag and found ur blog :0 just wanted 2 say that i think ur cool! All ur writing and quotes feels exactly like my box of feathers and dried flora if that makes sense. There is meaning and fondness embedded here to which i will never be able to understand. It's like looking inside someone's scrapbook, at all the little peices of paper and stickers. Those paint splotches, and doodles, at the dried wildflowers and leaves. It's a little peak on how they fell in love with life. Its so warm and cozy. Ur literally radiating cottagecore vibes here. Like woah I'm patting u on the head and giving u soup
Aw, I am crying rn. You just made my day. This is the best thing I've heard from someone. You just gave me the motivation to write more, plus I love compliments like these. I appreciate that. Thank you so much. *sending big, warm hugs*
(not) your guy in the chair
"Your sister," Iron Emmett said, "how old is …"
By now she'd be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. "I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you." Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment.
I'm not crying you are
It's weird, Eddie thinks. When Eddie and Steve holds hands, they intertwine it together. However, almost always, Steve ends up untangling it, his hand creeping up and holding him on his wrist instead. It makes Eddie feel like a child, with a mother holding on to him.
He thinks it might be his rings, thinks it might be annoying Steve. But then, he remembers Steve telling him how much he loves them.
He thinks it might be because he sweats when they hold hands for too long. But then, he remembers Steve trying to hug him after work and telling him he couldn't care less if Eddie's sweating or smells like oil.
He thinks it might be— no. He doesn't— Steve might be ashamed of him? And doesn't want to be seen with him, their hands slot together so perfectly the whole world may crumble? No. That's definitely not right. Steve is open to the people who matter, tells Dustin of their last endeavor, tells Robin about how good Eddie is to him, tells Hop that Eddie is good and kind and everything to him. He kisses him in the Wheeler basement, slots his head on his shoulders in between the empty aisles of Family Video, takes Eddie in his arms in the trailer in front of Wayne. That can't be it.
Eddie finds out in the middle of a campaign. Steve, Robin, Max and El hanging out on the sides while the boys busy themselves with defense and strategy. He didn't mean to look Steve’s way, but like a boat, his eyes will always find his lighthouse, bright and guiding in the dark.
Steve is holding Max's wrist, just like he always does with him. At first, it's weird because Max doesn't really like prolonged physical touch. They stay like that for half of the game, whenever Eddie looks back, Steve's hand is still wrapped around Max's wrist.
When Eddie calls for a break, and Steve rushes upstairs to help the boys get a snack, Eddie sits beside Max.
"Hey, Red." Max gives him a nod of acknowledgment as she reads the latest comics.
"Can I ask you a question?" Max hums in agreement, eyes still glued on the page.
"Why was Steve holding your wrist like that?" Max freezes, eyes looking up to meet Eddie's. Eddie is aware of how it sounds like, so he word vomits, "I— I am just curious. He does the same for me and I've never understood why."
Max squints at him behind her thick glasses, "It helps him calm."
Eddie tilts his head in confusion, "Calm?"
Max takes his hands, wrapping a hand around his wrist, just directly above where his pulse is, "When he found us after the Upside Down, we were barely alive. Now, he feels our pulse and it's a reminder that we're alive, we're okay. It calms him down, helps him stay in the moment."
It hits him like a bucket of cold water. How Steve makes it his mission to burrow his head on Eddie's chest, directly above his beating heart, his hand always wrapped just above his pulse, Steve staring at his eyes first thing in the morning like he's looking for something in it.
It's a reminder that Eddie's alive, that Max's alive, that they're all alive and that they get to live and breathe in peace without the impending doom looming over the edge.
Eddie never brings it up. He lets Steve hold his pulse, splay a hand on his chest to feel his heart, lets Steve fall asleep to the sound of Eddie breathing.
Eddie's never gonna bring it up. Steve can do it for the rest of their life for all he cares.
It's the least he can do.
nothing makes me cry like the embankment tube station voiceover story !!! nothing !!!!!!!
Granite And Shadows -bg3 comic Shadowheart, Lae'zel
⚠!!soft spicy content!!⚠ -> remove orbs on patre0n / sh0p
I hope you enjoyed!
read no cens version on patre0n
thinking about how the hunger games were designed to prove that without society, order, government, someone to rule, we devolve into little more than animals, and how the games themselves prove over and over again that this is not true. We see it in every single game we witness.
Katniss placing flowers around Rue's body in the arena. Thresh sparing Katniss because she was kind to Rue, even though he was making it that much harder for himself to win.
Haymitch going back for Maysilee after hearing her scream even though their alliance had been broken. Haymitch holding her as she dies the same way Katniss did Rue.
Coral's "I can't have killed them all for nothing" when she realizes she's not going home. Lamina cutting down Marcus at great personal risk. And, my favorite moment in tbosas, Reaper collecting the bodies of his fellow tributes, his peers, even the ones who tried to kill him, into a pile. Taking the weapons from their hands. Closing their eyes and crossing their arms in the best approximation of a proper burial he can manage, covering them with the Capitol flag as a makeshift shroud.
The Games bring out the worst in people, yes. But despite the extreme circumstances, despite the exterior pressure of the Capitol, despite the fact that it could mean pain and heartbreak and death, it also shows that people have an enormous capacity for goodness. That even in a situation purposefully designed to make empathy impossible, people can't help but have it anyway.
Snow looks at the Games and all he can see is what's inside himself-- this pure animalistic drive to conquer and defeat. He kills and it feels good and he thinks that everyone else must feel that way too. He doesn't realize (maybe can't realize) that he is the exception, not the rule. He cannot see outside himself, outside his own warped perspective, to realize that the fact that people do show humanity in the games proves his entire worldview wrong.