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b0bs0ndugnutt · 7 months

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Because the “shrodinger’s queerbait” nonsense will never go away, indulge me an analogy (and a long post).

wlw ships are the “made from scratch” cake in a world where we only ever expect cake mix from the box.

Say you have a show where, in the first interaction between a male and female character, there is a red box. It could be a Betty Crocker box of cake mix. Because all it takes is just one smile — one wink — one raised eyebrow— and the fans don’t question it. We’re clearly making a cake here. The box is red.

Meanwhile, you have two female characters building their own relationship that have elements that could build to romance. There are eggs in the fridge. A few more episodes, there’s flour in the pantry. Sugar. Baking powder. Queer fans start whispering…we could be making a cake here. Other fans scoff “you will read into anything. They’re just eggs! Everyone has eggs in their fridge!” Maybe so, maybe not. They are written off as discrete ingredients, nothing to see here.

That red box is still sitting in the pantry. Obviously we’re going with that one, and it’s definitely cake mix. That guy and girl stood next to each other again.

The wlw relationship is now full-on batter. It was a cake recipe all along, but it’s not baked yet. The crowd that wrote off every ingredient is now saying the writers are just going to “squander” that box that could be ready-made cake mix or that they’re being “forced” to bake a cake with the very ingredients the writers deliberately bought and put in their pantry.

Now it’s in the oven, the cake is baking. That crowd will still insist it’s forced, or maybe its actually something else, or it’s rushed, or it’s pandering. Whether the writers painstakingly built a pantry to make the cake they truly wanted or they were cultivating good ingredients and realized they had the fixings for a more decadent cake and went there, it doesn’t matter. It’s still a recipe. One that fans who always have to piece together ingredients had hoped for or saw from the get-go, despite being scoffed at and disparaged. Just because that crowd didn’t see (or refused to see) those ingredients as part of a whole, doesn’t make it any less of a recipe.

And wlw fans shouldn’t have to keep writing essays to demonstrate that the wlw “cake” has all the ingredients every cake mix does, or keep pointing out that fans were ready to believe a cake was being baked when they saw a nondescript box, but that they’ll do anything to discredit or doubt the cake from scratch that’s now cooling off on the counter.

It is partly a function of heteronormativity from the audience in immediately seeing romance in any whisper of interaction between m/f characters and passing off all charged interactions between female characters are sisterly or platonic. And it also comes from writers, who are either being cautious so as not to spook corporate overlords or audiences, or who are preserving plausible deniability.

To take the analogy further, box cake mix is fine! It works! It is, practically speaking, what a lot of folks know by default. I thought I was a Duncan Hines girl once myself. Vanilla cake mix has the ingredients measured out, it’s a safe bet, it tastes like cake.

But it doesn’t mean every red box is cake mix. And it doesn’t make the cake that had to be pieced together from scratch due to censorship, caution, time, narrative build-up, what-have-you, any less of a cake.

#Also this is a pillsbury cake mix hate blog so it doesnt count. The good ones have red boxes.#are we discoursing on this fine evening? Why not.#This could be about literally any wlw ship #but as someone who binged 8 volumes of rwby before 9 and missed all the drama but sees the vestiges of it years later somehow #its wild to me. Because as someone who saw the narrative in one gulp #it is very obvious they have put a lot of love and attention into Bumbleby #anyway this applies to #Bumbleby #korrasami #clexa #bubbline #harlivy #i could keep going #Having to defend a wlw ship like it’s a dissertation EVERY TIME is exhausting #And the fact that wlw fans have been burned before shouldn’t be wielded as a sword and a shield every time a wlw ship is viable

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hauntedpearl · 8 days

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s12 destiel from dean's perspective is explanation enough for why dean is sooooo insane after that season. like.

- first he almost kills himself for the greater good or whatever and has to come to terms with like. dying. on purpose. and then he is given the gift of life but before he can be like yay! i can go home! his mom is back from the dead??? and his brother is missing???

- then his mom leaves him bc she wants to figure out who she is and even tho he's like a 38 yo man it fucks w him a lot understandably.

-they get arrested and put in SOLITARY for a while and when they finally get out and meet cas again (at which point dean has once again come to terms with dying for the greater good but also mostly his mom and brother this time), he KILLS THE REAPER THEY MADE THE DEAL WITH AND GETS ALL EMOTIONAL??? after which he proceeds to fuck off bc he is Busy™ tracking lucifer etc.,

- then they get a lead and CAS ALMOST DIES IN FRONT OF HIS EYES and throws an I love you in his goodbye speech for the lolz. which. hahaha. anyway cas lives but turns out his mother — with whom he's trying to connect so badly so he can achieve full Normalcy — was like. lowkey responsible for his almost death. so they're fighting now.

- cas receives a divine voicemail from his close friend and colleague and then they go on that case with Lily sunder and ISHIM BEATS CAS UP AND THREATENS TO KILL HIM and even after they beat him Lily Sunder is like. I'm gonna go do some soul searching and if im in the mood I'll come back and KILL YOU. THREAT. and cas is like 😔 fair. so you know.

- there is also an instance of him losing his memories which is scary. and it's like. being intimately familiar with that experience is. something else. as a memory loss girlie let me tell you 👍🏽😄

- and then!!!!! lucifer's unborn child mind melds with his wifehusband — once more in front of his own two eyes — and "manipulates" him into running away with the pregnant lady instead of staying and Figuring Out A Solution. and when they finally do find cas, they are with them for all of 12 hours before HE DIES. FORREAL THIS TIME. AND LIKE THAT'S IT. NO COMING BACK FROM THAT ONE!

this is not an exhaustive list bc i don't remember everything but. like you know. he was primed to get worse and worse. all things that happen in s12 are out of his control but they are also things that happen in front of his eyes, and in ways that make him think that perhaps he did have control over them and he did fuck up some way and he *should* have done something to change the course of their lives so he's filled with guiltshame about it. and he decides that the solution to not losing anyone in the foreseeable future is to just. Control Every Possible Aspect Of Their Existence. which is impossible and that's why he gets mad all the time but YOU KNOW. YOU CAN SEE WHY HE'S CRAZY. poor s12 dean man.

#doe is talking again #just thinking thoughts #i MISS S12 BTW #EVERYTHING WAS SOOOO RIGHT #and then </3 #also this is my bias against s13 showing bc i think it's STUPID #thete i said it idc about narrative importance s13 commits the worst crime of all: its boring as shit #and yeah I've only watched it once but i hated having yo watch it and supernatural WAS my favourite show back then even!!#snd an excuse to spend time with my v close friend!!! SO !!! EVEN THAT couldn't make s13 worth the time 😔#im also not a big fan of first half of s14 while we're at it.#i think it picks up in the second half thk when thsy start doinf family drama #anyway #ANYWAYSSSS #this is not meta or analysis im just thinking about s12 dean my baby #suicide ment

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be-bi-do-crime · 4 months

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watching ajtl is like being told that you will be kicked down the stairs of a 500 story building, accepting that you will be kicked down the stairs of a 500 story building, then getting kicked down the stairs of a 500 story building, screaming crying and throwing up while tumbling all the way down, and finally arriving at the bottom to get a pat on the shoulder and a bandaid that says "congratulations for surviving" 😊

#a journey to love #一念关山 #unpopular opinion maybe but actually the ending wasn't that bad since the narrative was doomed from the beginning. i cried a lot but i had #a good agonizing time. i only wish we had a special ep to show us yizhou with their kids & explain how tf they survived their BRUTAL deaths #also i will not lie i needed more of ltg and yy #show me their 10 year timeskip selves!!#all in all its a great drama that i recommend!! i rated it 8.5/10 and i havent rated a drama in a while so that says a lot #i miss my ruyi already... ill see if i can finish that fic im working on for her

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variousqueerthings · 2 years

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there’s so many ways that queerness exists in texts, unintentionally and intentionally, coded and uncoded and partially coded and baited and confused and limited and expansive, and then there’s whatever is happening with Hawkeye Pierce, M.D. of the 4077th MASH unit

#hawkeye pierce #MASH #there is of course also the constant mist of gender/sexuality queering that hangs over the narrative because of its structure #its structure as comedy (often subject to whimsical departures from acceptable gender/sexualities)#its structure as anti-establishment and anti-conformity #its celebration of non-conformist personalities and lives and its redefinitions over and over of madness and mutual aid #its structure - of course - as found family #its structure as an island in a sea of militant and fascistic surrealism and answering the questions of:#well what does the alternative to that violence look like?#so the idea of intentionality/unintentionality sort of doesn't matter #because it's creating a manifesto/ethos of sorts that speaks the same language as queerness #and it's down to the DNAs of its structures #(not even mentioning the structures of echoing the realities of those making it -- ethnicities - romantic lives - cultures and religions -#friendships and political beliefs - family structures created on the set of the show itself)#but yes hawkeye pierce is depicted as fascinatingly overtly queer and comedy is (like horror... which....) an acceptable space #for him to be this #(which -- when the horror and tragedy takes more of a front seat his funny-man queerness is somewhat diminished #but a. still very much present b. given an air of drama that legitimises it further c. underpinned by seasons and seasons of existence #d. embedded in that self-same DNA of the structures -- he IS the main POV character #which means he's carrying so much of that idea of non-conformity/civilish disobedience as good and right/whimsy/gender-and-sexuality/etc #so you see... there's whatever is happening with hawkeye pierce M.D.

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androgynouspenguinexpert · 2 months

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"You were there."

"Yes... Yes I was."

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #art #illustration #redacted imp!asher #redacted imp!milo #redacted imp!alexis #redacted imperium #CHAT LOOK I KNOW SHE WASNT THERE AND ITS A BIG PLOT POINT BUT THE DIALOGUE IS GOOD #first one to pick where it's from gets a kiss #if there's no imperium this year i'm burning down a chase bank #ngl the most fun part of the imperium other than having some of the most compelling drama and narrative depth ive ever seen #is that i get to give everyone a different haircut :)#im literally just a girl ok

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itsgrimeytime · 9 months

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Magnolia in May (Part Seven) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @belaballs

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, misunderstandings, a marriage of convenience, and mentions of loneliness.

[[A/N: girllllll, not another Magnolia in May chapter!!! Whoops. And actually tagging bestie @imaginemyfavoritefics properly this time, bc I did use the idea of Daryl as the courier. Unrelated but this gif of him clenching his jaw... girl. Thanks for reading !! ]]

You'd taken to writing letters -the gentle swish of your quill was calming the storm of your mind. Originally, you had garnered a sort of cold from the walk in the rain and had to heal -now, you'd stayed holed up of your own accord.

'Nonsense, darling,' Headmistress had said, fluffing up your pillows, '-you must heal from a broken heart like any other wound.'

It was fewer letters and more of a sort of journal -only for your eyes to see but sometimes addressed to someone other than yourself. It started simply with one occasionally to Maggie to make her smile, or Beth to tell her things you'd learned so she wouldn't have to, or to remind Father to eat a meal when he'd been so focused on a patient that he'd neglect himself. But then, Mr. Grimes started appearing at the header.

You couldn't remember the first time it had happened, days rather blurred after that day -especially since you were treated shortly after. And rest was all you'd really gotten then, it made the passage of time blurry.

But it became something you were rather dependent on.

'Mr. Grimes,' you wrote in the first of its kind, quill rather fluid at this stage.

'I met your wife, Lori. She's a wonderful woman, kind and perfectly poised. I would, in a different life, maybe be friends with her -seems the type to be good company. Was it always her?

You've got something special, a family with beautiful children. It's every man's dream, is it not? You were my dream. I find it a bit hard to believe she would leave that dream behind. For what is more powerful than one's love for their child? I suppose there were other circumstances that I shall never be aware of. I would've liked to have known why. I understand it's a rather personal thing, but I should be urged to hear something of the full story. I might deserve it.

But I suppose you deserve a full family more. Carl and Judith do. I wouldn't fit in. I would love the best for them, despite not having known Carl, he seems a bright boy. Deserves much of the best in life, I'd garner all children do.

I often wonder if I am to have children. I suppose I could ask you for advice one day, if so. But there's something in me that speaks differently. Like that path with you is gone. Maybe I should run off to the city and write away, become focused on my education. Pay for my father's living, and house my sister's 'til they're wed.

I don't think I could, with good conscience, leave Alexandria. I'm far too fond of the people the town, its where I grew up. And I suppose, to keep my father's clinic running under the family name I may marry. I'm not too sure that I'd marry for love, per say. Can you begin the fall in love more than once? Is it possible? And furthermore, although it is something I wish for, I'm not sure that I would like to bring children into a loveless marriage.

This is getting far too detailed of my own troubles, and for that I apologize.

I truly wish your family well. Even if there's no room for me.

Yours Sincerely,

Y/N Greene'

It was a positive experience, mostly. The smearing on that letter particularly wasn't of cathartic tears. Not quite a release of the emotions dying so tightly within your soul, it was rather grief. Loss of a life that you'd never have. Despite it being the one you desperately wanted.

You sighed, stashing away the paper with the other ones -the second desk drawer to the right, under the math textbook that had been gathering dust even before you were born.

Sure, it messed your hands, but you found it was a small price to be paid for secrecy.

"Y/N, dearest," your Headmistress hummed -voice pounding up the stairs, "-get dressed and meet me at the door in 10, will you?"

"Yes, Headmistress," you echoed, off to your feet and only touching up ever-so-slightly by the mirror. And in your rush, maybe you had forgotten to shut the drawer -you couldn't know now. It stayed open, and the telling corner of dustless papers under a dusty book was certainly one to ponder over.

At least for someone, it was.

You wouldn't know what had occurred until a few weeks later, as you sorted out your joint closet with Maggie. Gathering bows and ribbons, and straightening dresses, was a wonderful way to pass time -since your newest book was seeming to be tucked away in the carriage. You truly could not find it anywhere-

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Now, normally, this was of no notice -either for Maggie (who had gone on frequent outings with Mr. Rhee since the ball) or Father (ranging anywhere from an old friend to an urgent patient). But this was one to put a pause in your mind.

Maggie was, in fact, out -you remembered the shimmer of the carriage as it pulled away, and Father was rushed off for an emergency. And even further, Headmistress and Beth had gone out to a sort of gathering -some sort of tea party, you'd assumed. (They'd invited you, but you'd truly not wished to hear the gossip. Especially not now.)

You stilled, you were alone here then.

Well, you considered -making your way down the steps, -could be a sort of delivery. Ms. Elisa did frequently speak with friends out of town -often through letters. And Father always had an extra copy of cases delivered to his home -so he could think properly on an issue.

Satisfied with that, you approached the door with newfound confidence -fear that had stubbornly stuck there was unfounded. You twisted a bit of fabric in your dress, just to do something with your hands before swinging open the door.

And, it was a familiar face. Not one you had a name to, but one you knew -the courier.

"Ms. Greene," he spoke, his voice gruff and tired, much less peppy than you'd seen him before, "-I assume?"

"Yes," you answered cautiously, "-I'm the eldest Ms. Greene, why? If you're looking for Maggie-"

"No," he answered, simply, long hair moving with the motion of his head, "-Mr. Grimes requested this be given to you, the eldest."

"I can't acce-" you started but fell shut as a letter was extended to you -two letters. One a familiar sort of coffee-tinged brown -paper old and weary, you could hardly believe the quill hadn't punctured right through really. And the other, neatly folded, a pristine sort of ivory, and dark ink that somehow didn't seem to smudge at all. On the side that was exposed to you was written: Ms. Y/N Greene, in handwriting you recognized.

The one that had scribbled across the invitation so long ago-

"Who are you?" you questioned -eagerly bringing the letters close to your chest, "-And how did you get my letter? Have you been in my home-"

"Ms. Greene," he spoke -composed and calm, unmoved by your pressing questions, "-they were presented to me to mail weeks ago."

You froze, something heavy dropping in your stomach, "They? How... How many letters were you given to post?"

"A stack, no more than 10," he responded, "-the youngest Ms. Greene, opened the door for me once to deliver an invitation. The same one I 'ave been for weeks- It ain't relevant, really. She knew where I came from, and requested I bring 'em to Mr. Grimes immediately."

You paused, "An invitation?"

"More like a summonin'," he clarified, rather poised but still somewhat a bit casual, "-it's always the same request for you, the eldest, to attend to the Grimes estate."

"What?"

He paused, "It's supposed to be brought to ya, upon retrieval but... I'd guess it hasn't."

"You've-" you exhaled -a deep uncertain exhale, "-Just how long have you been delivering these?"

"Lost count."

"And-" you stuttered, a bit overwhelmed, "-and the letters, my letters they-"

"I put 'em in his hand, myself," he spoke -an ordered sort of discipline heavy in his tone with a dose of familiar twang.

"Right," you swallowed -pushing down the nerves biting up your throat at such rampant pace, he was never to see those, "-and who are you exactly?"

"Grimes estate courier," he grumbled out, a some of bitterness gathered there.

"No, no," you quirked a brow at him, "-your name? I figured as much otherwise."

He answered, rather improperly -as if he was trained in some ways and ignorant in others just slightly, "-Daryl Dixon."

"Mr. Dixon," you echoed, a sort of curiosity in your tone, "-you said he received the full stack, did he not?"

He merely nodded.

"Well, why do I only have one, then?"

The man pondered it for a second, loosely eyeing the way you held the letters like he knew what they contained (maybe he did), "I suppose he ain't done replyin' to the others."

The rest of the interaction was fairly polite, mere questions about his work -to which he complained quite vividly about the extent of it, but never shred a wrong light on Mr. Grimes. You'd gathered they were well-acquainted, even perhaps friends from youth, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint it. He didn't say anything directly, and was rather quiet around details. Well, details pertaining to Mr. Grimes, you supposed.

You'd initially wanted to search for the invitations he spoke of, but something bigger was biting you.

Your hands were quick to rush to the drawer, pulling it open -to suddenly believe it was not real. To prove that all of this was a farce, that the letters were still safely kept. But, when you opened it, you could tell.

Even still, you pushed forward holding up the book, peering underneath. It was empty, extraordinarily empty.

"No, no, no-" you urged, heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach -heavy, "-it can't be..."

Private pieces of you, of your sadness, your longing- Sent to the married man of the header.

And just back as you pushed back in your chair, the brush of tears only a breath away -your eyes caught on the letter.

It was not yours.

Yours sat just beside it, you recognized it to be the first one -all sort of crumpled and agonizingly smudged. All conflicted feelings and harsh realities buzzing under your skin. You'd written it partially under the delirium of your illness, so it was rather brash but you'd never thought you'd need to worry about it. The only thing different was how it was presented.

You remember hastily shoving it away, between book covers, under table legs, hidden in the dirt of the garden, as you tried to find a good place to stash them. You'd always been so quick to put them away, to get out the feelings and move on-

Looking at it now, though, the worn paper was smoothed out (to the best it could be) and perfectly folded. Each corner matched to another and creases were indented lightly so as to not damage the written word. It was treated as precious. Something... Something he'd rather cared for.

Something told you then to get rid of it, to throw it onto the fire when no one was looking, to stash it away, to never read it no matter the cost because you were doing the right thing and should not be swayed-

But another part of you was dreadfully curious. And dreadfully grieving the loss of a man who still lived.

It was your mail, a letter addressed to you. Wouldn't it be rather rude to not read it? If you hadn't wished the first one to be mailed, you retorted, then no.

And yet, you found yourself picking up the note with the gentlest of graces. Carefully unfolding the thick paper, slowly, timidly, like the words would jump off the page. Like they could hurt you.

You supposed they could.

Once fully opened, you didn't directly focus on the words -instead, detailing the printed bits around the top edges. It looked as though this was an official sort of paper -the same kind an invitation may be extended to. As well as a family seal printed into the bottom right corner, it seemed a little formal for the occasion but you found it didn't bother you. Not really.

Taking a deep breath, you blinked your eyes -wishing to calm your heart, even just for a moment, and started reading.

'Ms. Greene,' it started, letters crisply written in a thin but precise sort of writing. Your finger naturally went to trace over them, dotting the i's and swirling the g's.

'I must first say that it's to my understanding that these letters are rather personal to you. You weren't the one who intended to mail them, I've come to know. I know that this then, by proxy, is a large invasion of your privacy.

And I can only hope you forgive me for such a thing. Because this is my sort of last resort to reach you. I'm sure you're familiar with the invitations that have flooded your door, and although, I understand the no response for what you know, I've become quite desperate.

To be completely clear, I was nearly on my horse to your home the morning these letters arrived. To explain everything as you deserve it to be explained.

I instead am here, writing letters. I cannot tell if that's any sort of better than my original plan was but it is the decision I chose.

In terms of Lori, the situation is rather complicated. Surely, at the young age we married, she was the plan. I'd honestly not given thought to the fact that she'd ever come back. I knew her reasons, and I fully doubted I'd ever see her again. And out of respect for you, I wish for the full story to be in person.

Despite all that, I truly wished she would. I know I did. If not only to see our children, to grace me with some sort of company.

I lived a rather lonely life before you Ms. Greene. Which may seem a bit arbitrary coming from a man with a staff, but it doesn't make it any less the truth. When she left, it was quite the scandal. I never spoke a word on it, too devastated to even imagine what to say. It meant much more reclusion, even from friends I knew from youth. And then, as I'm sure you're familiar, I decided to move back to Alexandria. Atlanta only harbored negative things, and I wished for someplace more pleasant. And it was, but still despite it all, the loneliness persisted.

So this family, this full family, you speak of, it's not what Lori and I would be. It wasn't what we were when we were married. I love my children, beyond belief, but I was still lonely. And I can't imagine a full family has a lonely father.

Frankly, Ms. Greene, I was lonely until that day in the marketplace.

And on the off chance you don't understand what I mean, I ask, from the depths of my heart, don't leave Alexandria.

Yours,

Richard Grimes'

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may #narrative letters ??? drama

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