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hedgewitchgarden · 2 years

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It’s Pride Month and I’m Scared

Jessi-James Grey

Posted on June 23, 2022

When I decided to write something about Pride month again this year, I struggled to decide how I wanted to approach the topic; I have written quite a bit about Queer topics, ranging from coming out and celebration to solemn remembrance, to the importance of chosen family, community elders, and (a snippet of) our history. In the hellscape that was 2020, I wrote about reigniting “true spirit of Stonewall and reclaim Pride as a rebellion against the oppression of ALL of our intersecting communities, rather a corporate-sponsored party.” Each time I’ve written on these topics, I’ve outed myself—explicitly or implicitly—to the Sweatpants & Coffee community and I’ve often disclosed aspects of my personal experiences as a Queer person; in fact, this community has witnessed me evolve as I have realized and began to embody my genderqueer identity.

What I haven’t done yet: express my fear. That fear has grown over the last year and I need to acknowledge it.

Not long ago, I was browsing Facebook—like you do—and I came upon an ad for a trans-owned clothing company. I clicked through and began browsing that website and a shirt caught my eye: a black muscle tee—absolutely my aesthetic—emblazoned with the words “visibility is vulnerability.” Maybe I hadn’t been able to find those words because of the extent to which I overthink things but, upon reading that shirt, it clicked: that is the most accurate and succinct way to articulate my growing unease. I have made myself very visible online and in meatspace and, as the political and cultural landscape has become increasingly hostile to marginalized communities and identities of all kinds, that means I’ve made myself quite vulnerable too. And, as is the case with all kinds of vulnerability, it’s scary.

In addition to being Queer, I am also chronically ill, which means I interact with medical institutions A LOT. Most of those interactions are with a major university medical system. I’ve recently had the pleasure of contacting that medical system’s chief audit and compliance officer to lodge a formal complaint against one of the clinics I attend regularly because they continually, even after repeated correction, misgendered me and used my birth name—mind you, they have ways of noting both in my record and this is a medical system that, supposedly, offers gender affirming care. As I put it in my letter: “I am, during visits to the office, routinely addressed by my birth name and referred to as “Miss” and “ma’am”—most embarrassingly (and, in an increasingly hostile social climate, potentially dangerous) for me, in the waiting room in front of other patients.” Living in the home of the infamous HB2 “bathroom bill” and a shiny, brand new “don’t say gay” bill, the potential threat to my safety is real—though it is mitigated by my whiteness, which is important to acknowledge because visibly Queer and gender expansive BIPOC are much more at risk of discrimination and violence than I am.

I was contacted by both Patient Services and the clinic about my complaint. Patient Services apologized and said they were taking my complaint seriously. So seriously, in fact, that they shared my letter directly with the clinic which is great because now they are aware of what exactly the problematic behavior is. It scared the ever-loving crap out of me, though, because they know who made the complaint and, while they may have easily deduced that it was me just because of the nature of the complaint, I am visible. For what it’s worth, someone from the clinic called me to apologize and I was told they were taking corrective action. I suppose I’ll find out if that is actually the case when I go to my next appointment at the end of next month.

Since the death of our mom last year, I’ve tried to be very diligent about visiting my sister quarterly(-ish). That means that I regularly make a ten-hour drive through The South. It’s a beautiful drive, if you don’t count the two enormous Confederate battle flags I have to drive past—seriously, they’re two of the largest I have ever seen. I pass through the Great Smoky Mountains and gorgeous, rolling countryside. This last trip, the weather was perfect and I drove the whole way with my windows down and my music up and it was just pure joy… until I had to make a stop somewhere. I make sure that I only stop in populated areas or at large gas stations and truck stops with camera surveillance and more staff than just one person at a register. I do this because I know how I look, I know that I don’t pass as cishet anymore—I am visible and, therefore, vulnerable—and I live with the threats of “corrective r*pe” made against me since high school hanging over my head.

Visibility is desperately important for all marginalized groups. Visibility is necessary to fight against the willful ignorance of the white supremacist, Christian dominionist, ableist, cishet patriarchy. Oppressive cultures are not going to acquiesce to the righteous demands of marginalized groups for our safety, civil rights, and the respect due us as human beings if they’re not regularly confronted with our existence. And though visibility is vulnerability, it is safer for some of us to be visible than it is for others—as I mentioned before, my whiteness insulates me to a degree, so does my being child-free. It is important to me that, despite how scary being truly visible can be, I use the relative safety that my privilege affords me to be seen, to protest, to demand, to fight because there are so many in my community who can’t without much greater risk to their personal safety.

So, here I am before you, this Pride month. Visible. Vulnerable. Scared. Righteous.

And demanding that you look past the glitter and rainbows and chants that “love is love” and “love wins” to see that Queer and trans folks are in danger. As I write this, we’re only half way through Pride month and, already, there have been numerous threats of violence against, dangerous disruptions of, and narrowly-avoided attacks at Pride events across the country—all of which have been organized—not just random mob violence. This is not something y’all can write off as “lone wolf” situations. I need y’all who “identify as” allies to stop calling yourselves allies and actually be allies: be aware of the political climate; participate in state and local politics, which is where so many of the dangerous, anti-Queer and trans policies are being made, AND object to those policies before they become law; call out the stochastic terrorism of churches, politicians, and influential community members and organizations that all but guarantees violence against trans and Queer folks.

It is Pride month. And I am frightened.

#pride month #lgbtqa

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dropintomanga · 3 years

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Understanding Yumeko Jabami, Thanks to Mahjong

One of my latest hobbies is about to intersect with a very notable gambling anime/manga series starring a girl who just loves to risk it all.

So I found out that Mahjong Soul, the game/service I play online riichi mahjong on, is doing a collaboration with Kakegurui and my reaction to it is somewhat of a mixed one.

That’s mostly due to what Kakegurui explores versus the ambiguity of mahjong as a gambling game.

For those who don’t know about Kakegurui, it’s a gambling anime/manga series about a young girl named Yumeko Jabami who attends a school, Hyakkaou Private Academy, where the social hierarchy is determined by gambling with your fellow students. The more you win, the more privileges you get in school. The more you lose, the worse your status is. There are multiple “loser” students that are labeled as “household pets” and have to wear a tag around their neck that labels them as such. Yumeko is noted to be a compulsive gambler. She doesn’t care if she wins or loses; she’s in it for the thrill. Yumeko’s behavior draws the attention of the whole school as she takes on various notable opponents in order to get an opportunity to take on the student council president, Kirari Momobami.

There’s a lot of commentary about Kakegurui with regards to Yumeko’s character. She does have a huge gambling addiction, but never truly pays for it in anyway. The series can be also be commentary about the nature of today’s world and how the nature of capitalism has destroyed important familial/peer bonds for the sake of status.

I find the MajSoul x Kakegurui collaboration fascinating because

1.) Gambling is illegal in Japan. There’s literally no casinos there at all. You can beat on sports and horse racing, but if you want to play poker/blackjack, underground casinos are your best bet. And the ones who run them tend to be the yakuza. The Yakuza games highlight underground casinos to a huge degree.

2.) Mahjong has stigma from where the game originated - China. The Chinese government has frowned on people playing mahjong to gamble. While there are mahjong parlors in China, there are many stories of police raiding them and many parlors are run by gangsters. It also doesn’t help that some Chinese folks have had their lives ruined due to mahjong.

3.) Mahjong is very popular in Japan. It’s probably the most popular table game there. However, the game is in this in-between space of being a gambling game while also not being a gambling game. That’s probably a big reason why Japan hasn’t been too fussy about it.

So this collaboration has some kind of tension as many folks don’t know about the dark “gambling” side of mahjong. Kakegurui is a trip to that dark side. No real money is bet in MajSoul anyway, but I’ve been thinking about the series after getting caught up with the manga.

There’s a scene where Yumeko and one of her rivals-turned-ally, Mary Saotome, face off in a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors Poker. Mary was the 1st opponent Yumeko fought and she lost her place in the school. Over time, Mary built up the resolve to challenge Yumeko again while becoming more friendlier. During their game, Mary manages to win a hand against Yumeko. Yumeko admits that she was scared during the hand, but at the same time, she’s having A LOT of fun.

Mary remarks about her comments:

“Oh. The way Yumeko sees it...fear is part of the fun of gambling. This is so ridiculous. “Fear is part of the fun of gambling”? It makes no sense. And yet, I’m starting to feel it right now.

Getting afraid, bluffing, going in fully confident...our feelings are exposed in every move we make, and we respond to them and then...the showdown! Our true emotions are revealed.

We’re having the kind of conversation we can only enjoy when we’re gambling.

It’s like we’re in our own little world...sharing secrets with each other.”

Yumeko isn’t a hero. Gamblers usually aren’t noble characters, but they have this tendency to inspire other people to embrace their vulnerabilities and move forward while doing so. Fear is real, but it closes off the real you. Yumeko wants the people around her to truly be themselves and take the kinds of risks that can change their lives for the better in so many ways.

There was an article I once read about how most work is BS and one of the things that was mentioned was that what’s considered work today doesn’t solve social problems. For example, many people will argue that rampant consumerism has destroyed the world. The writer said something along the lines of that it’s not pleasure that’s a problem; it’s the view that people have to suffer in order to deserve pleasure. That view feels like Puritanism because it absolves those with power of their responsibility in letting social problems happen in the first place.

Kakegurui is a celebration of that pleasure in a way that generates real change. The freedom to have whatever desire you want. And in turn, that freedom spreads to other people in good ways. In some ways, mahjong is about the right kind of pleasure and learning how to deal with it amongst other people. It’s competitive, sure, but you’re being intimate with 3 other people and are learning more about yourself and those around you.

I don’t really gamble much, but mahjong just grew on me. While I’ve managed to do well, I have lost many times and have deliberated on many in-game decisions. I realize that the game is a safe outlet in learning how to deal with life’s many decisions. You don’t win all the time. There’s also benefits in letting other people win as well. For example, if you’re in 1st place by a lot and the player in 2nd place is chasing you, you can help the 3rd and 4th place holders by discarding tiles that you don’t need and they need. Make them take on 2nd place or each other. Hell, you can even lose to them if you know you won’t lose 1st place at all and they don’t have super-strong hands. Mahjong is a game that connects everyone and really gets going when all the parts (i.e. the players) move together.

There’s a wonderful interview I read last year from a psychology journalist turned pro poker player, Maria Konnikova, about being unable to control things in life and how poker taught her how to stay calm despite bad luck. Maria talks about the beauty of not knowing and embracing that view.

“Look at how many things there are to amaze us, to fascinate us. Look at the power of wonder, embrace it, and don’t be afraid there are things we don’t know. Don’t be afraid of uncertainty, be grateful for it. Would you want to live in a world where you knew everything and where everything was determined?

He (Carl Sagan) hated superstition, as do I. Don’t take the easy way out. Don’t give up agency. Don’t have these stupid rituals. Science is beautiful. Lack of knowing is beautiful. All of these things we can’t control are beautiful. They’re powerful. They make us human. They make life worth living.“

We all make kinds of gambles in life when it comes to choosing the right partner/school/job opportunity. There tends to be a lot of pain, but there’s almost always something good that comes out of taking the right kinds of risk. I’m learning more about that through mahjong. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever get super-competitive in mahjong because it’s a lifetime to master. But it’s a safe outlet to process my fears of uncertainty. My mom has been a big help in telling me that it’s okay to lose and give up when needed. There has to be rainy days as well as sunny days, right? The “win at all costs” mentality causes so much harm to people and those around them.

While I know Yumeko is criticized to be a sexualized female character, Yumeko isn’t afraid to display her lust for gambling with a sense of pride. In my opinion, she represents female empowerment. There’s so many women who are slut-shamed for being sexually expressive. What bigots fear are people unafraid to express themselves and won’t let themselves be shamed for it. Yumeko is the kind of heroine whose story needs to be out there - potentially destructive and able to harness it for self-empowerment without it getting out of hand.

So, I’ll go pseudo-Yumeko and say - Gamble away responsibly to your heart’s content~! Share your love with fellow gamblers! Have fun! Make that fun destroy those insecurities awful people have placed upon you! (insert wicked grin)

#Kakegurui #manga #anime #Mahjong Soul #psychology of gambling #pleasure #luck

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hellomynameisbisexual · 3 years

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Are you aware that bisexuals walk amongst you every day? We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re not just confused or going through a phase. Bisexuality is as real as the air we breathe – and I discovered this myself after what felt like the world’s longest coming out journey.

Aside from being bisexual, I’m also transgender. This may seem like an irrelevant piece of information to bring up in a piece about Bisexual Awareness Week, but, for me, my gender and sexuality intersect in a very important way.

I found myself questioning my sexuality from quite a young age, but was too scared at first to really confront those feelings. When I eventually did come out at the age of 17, my first-ever label was bisexual. But I stopped using it a little while afterwards, and chose others like ‘gay’ and ‘queer’ – even though the bisexual feelings I had were very much still there. I think it had a lot to do with struggling with my attraction towards men – some unaddressed internalised homophobia, basically – and the only time I allowed myself to revisit those feelings was after I’d accepted myself as a trans man and begun my transition.

I stopped calling myself ‘bisexual’ when I struggled with my attraction towards men.

Embracing my gender felt like a huge step in understanding myself; it was a freedom that came as a sigh of relief, which then allowed me to explore other facets of myself, namely my sexuality. It was just as nerve-wracking facing the idea of being bisexual when I still identified as a woman as it was after coming out as a man. Coming out as a bisexual woman left me feeling vulnerable to fetishisation and the belief that I’d just “end up with a man”; coming out a second time as a bisexual man meant I now experienced total ignorance and dismissal from others, along with (yup, you guessed it) the belief that I was actually gay and that I’d just “end up with a man”.

Before and after I transitioned, being bisexual meant people assumed I’d end up with a man.

Both of these experiences opened my eyes to the reality of biphobia and how prevalent it still is, especially when it comes to bi-erasure, even within my own LGBT+ community.

But, despite that, I couldn’t be more grateful for my journey and where it has led me. Years of confusion and fear evolved into knowing myself on a level I never could have anticipated. I never thought I could ever be so comfortable with my identity, yet I’ve never been more content than I am whenever I say the words: I am a bisexual transgender man.

I’m not a huge believer in labels. I think you should absolutely use labels if you want to, but there’s no pressure to use any if that’s not your jam. But for me, my labels have given me a sense of security that I never could have envisioned. They are an anchor for me to hold on to when I’m feeling unsure about my place in this world, especially when intertwined with mental health issues that make it difficult to know yourself at times. My bisexual label feels like sitting in front of the fireplace with a sugary cup of tea, wrapped in a thick blanket while I watch my favourite TV show. It’s comforting and freeing and feels like home.

Now, my bisexual label feels like sitting in front of the fireplace with a sugary cup of tea.

I can’t quite put into words the feeling of freedom I get from truly knowing who I am. Both my sexuality and my gender feed into that feeling, but my sexuality in particular is something that I struggled to pin down for so long. From first coming out as bisexual as a teenager and then using myriad labels in the years to follow to being led back to bisexuality in the end – it feels like my exploration had to happen in order to bring me here, back to where I started. Because it turns out where I started is where I should’ve been the entire time. And it may have taken me a little while to figure that out, but I’m so glad I did.

So, I stand before you a proud bisexual man, and I hope all of my fellow bisexuals can join me this Bisexual Awareness Week in celebrating our pride!

And once again, happy #BiWeek, everyone! Make sure the bisexuals in your life know that you’re aware of them, and more importantly, make sure they know that you love them and support them in being exactly who they are.

And to anyone who has an issue with us bisexual baddies, I will simply throw up a bisexual peace sign and quote the infamous words of *NSYNC: BI BI BI.

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rochey1010 · 4 years

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Hi everyone, i wanted to make a post about Eliott and his insta. Especially how meaningful it tends to be. Back in S3 we know Eliott set up a POLARIS cipher puzzle to find @srodulv, and he would tend to post stuff that would foreshadow his personal SKAM or actually the plot e.g. double trouble cartoon, Virginia Woolf, My Own Private Idaho etc.

With this season S3 Eliott is back again, and once again his insta is foreshadowing the plot. Ok, just hear my rambling theory out. Eliott likes film, works in a film store and is posting movie recommendations as well as his own little obscure movies. We know the spoiler. We know a movie is gonna be made soon that will cause drama. Let's look at Eliott's movie insta posts for a minute.

1: Moonlight - a queer movie about same sex love. Specifically in this movie is a theme of the character struggling to come to terms with his identity and connection is very scary. The character has issues with being touched. How does this relate to the show. Well Lola is a depressive who has developed feelings for Maya. Lola has no issues with sleeping with others on her benders but it's pretty obvious that it's self destruction and not true connection. Lola is lonely and hurting and when she hurts she uses vices to bring some release e.g. cutting, drugs, alcohol, sex etc.

But Lola is looking for true connection but there is an intimacy fear there which makes her angry and closed off. In EP:1 Lola was taking pictures of the city. She took a picture of a quote "I want to get under your skin" and what is happening so far is that Maya has gotten under Lola's skin. So safe to say that if true about Eliott's Insta. Lola/Maya and W/W connection and love is this theme.

2: Parasite: Ok this movie is about not falling in line and screwing the system. The Rich own everything and it's basically class inequality and the characters obviously are sick of it and seek to do something about this unfair class system. Ok how does it relate to the show? The first thing is that the Lecomptes are lower class, they live in flats and are tight on money. The dad either does shift work, or doesn't work at all. Daphne told the dad that her birthday isn't an issue and she knows that they need to watch their money. They end up throwing Daphne a surprise birthday and Daphne whines hiding in the kitchen not wanting to have it as she is ashamed and prideful over the gang knowing that they live in flats. She's hidden her home and always had pretenses and airs and graces. Now the gang are in it and she's focusing on the class inequality between her and her friends. Lola tells her to wake up and go to her friends who love her. Daphne does.

The second part of the theme of screwing the system is urbex/lamifex/Otteli. So Eliott is the urbex legend Otteli. He has a passion that is very illegal and dangerous and he does it at night channeling his raccoon persona. Lamifex love urban exploring, specifically around the La Petite Ceinture area, which is a huge abandoned railway system that runs throughout Paris. It's very popular in reality for urbex and the underground Parisian Art scene. Lamifex connect to Otteli as they revere him and he's a rockstar in their community. It's not the last we see of this theme as there's gonna be more urbex with and without Otteli. So this theme is ongoing. But basically it's the intoduction of urbex/grafitti art and our characters intersecting for the S6 plot.

(Edit: wanted to add another movie Eliott chose in the recent mardi scene and watched with Lola.)

3: The Kid: this is a 1920's black and white silent movie directed by Charlie Chaplin. It's about the relationship between a tramp and an abandoned child. The tramp takes the child under his wing and mentors the child. They have fun and friendship as the movie is a dramedy (comedic drama). They get into schemes together and look out for each other. How does it relate to the show? Ok, so Lola is the abandoned kid. She's lost and looking for connection. Maya has ghosted her and she's taken to wandering the street at night while the dad works to avoid Daphne. Eliott is the tramp who is working in the video store. Lola now reaches out to him as she is desperately trying not to slip and go back to the club and get high and forget.

Eliott sees her with a smile and a "how do you do?" He is instantly welcoming and open. He literally (arm around the shoulder) takes her under his wing. He gives her compassion and comfort and expects nothing in return. 😍 he can see she needs to talk but doesn't push her. He sees she's homeless, so offers her a seat. He chooses 'The Kid' and they watch it. So this i suspect is the dynamic going forward. Eliott is going to nurture and help Lola. He right now is between her, the club, and her self destructive habits. The source of connection she needs. She's deeply hurt by Maya's silence, and she may not understand it right now but Maya has her reasons for pulling back, as we very much know. Eliott's friendship is gonna help her learn what true connection is, and the importance of holding on to the people in your life. Eliott may also have a story to tell Lola as he can identify with Maya right now (S3 text to lucas over his bipolar)

What Eliott is also going to do is give Lola a sense of purpose, focus, and direction. I don't know how he involves her in the movie he's making but i suspect it may be a moment where he sees her vulnerable to her vices (drink/drugs) or she simply tells him she's an addict. But Eliott involving Lola and Lamifex in his uni project is gonna distract Lola so much. And the movie may even help Lola with her love towards Maya. POLARIS is about connection and the fear of it.

The Kid is also a comedic drama, one of the first of it's kind. Chaplin's words were "a picture with a smile...and perhaps, a tear" meaning the relationship will be bittersweet, and there will be pain involved among the friendship, and the Eliott and Lola connection will ultimately be a healing one.

Right, so that's Eliott's actual Movie recommendations that he has posted on his insta. Edit: And our boy is gonna keep it up with his pretentious obscure tastes. So I'm just gonna keep editing this each time. 😄

My next post will be about his personal insta posts of his obscure favourites, and how they are connecting to the plot. Thanks for reading. 😊

#skam france #eliott demaury #skam fr s6 #skamfr

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darnloveablecharacters · 4 years

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Prove Me Wrong, Part Eighteen: The Goblin Caverns

Series Summary: Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of the following imagines from @imaginexhobbit: This One is the basis of the story, and This One and This One will be added in later. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are my own!

Prove Me Wrong - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Ahhh, reunited with our Thorin at last! We have to work for it though... I think there’s only one other part in this fic without Thorin in it but it’s also necessary.

Warnings for this chapter: violence, death, fluff if you squint a bit

Tagged: @imaginesreblogged @chevycastiel1967 @rices4me93 If you want to be added just let me know!

Caithwistë smirked with her arms crossed as she watched Mithrandir pacing at the caves’ entrance, muttering about the stubbornness of dwarves. “Did I mention I told them to wait here?” He asked her incredulously.

Her grin widened as she held up four fingers. “A few times, now.” She said chuckling.

They had made good time with only the two of them traveling and managed to crest the mountain in only three days. The Company’s trail had been easy for her to follow, even in the rocky terrain, until they were well into the mountain. Her pace had involuntarily quickened with worry when the trail died out. There had been a battle, and the destruction they saw could only have been caused by the stone giants that were rumored to live in these mountains. She wasn’t sure she was even breathing until they found the end of the destruction and the trail picked up again, leading them to the cave.

“Can you see where they went, My Dear?” Mithrandir asked.

Caithwistë frowned and shook her head. “You can see here that they did enter.” She said, pointing at a spot where boots had scuffed the rock. “But there is no sign of them leaving. Perhaps there is an exit at the back of the cave?” She said with a shiver. She did not like the prospect of being underground, but knew in her heart that it was a fear she would have to conquer if she intended to follow the Company into Erebor.

Mithrandir watched her patiently as she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Though she had never explained what had happened to her in Moria, he knew enough about Azog’s brutality to understand why she would now fear enclosed spaces. Her eyes opened then with determination and stepped forward into the cave.

They reached the back of the cave quickly but found no sign of an exit. They could not even find signs that the Company had camped here, and the thought unnerved Caithwistë greatly. “They cannot have simply vanished,” Mithrandir grumbled. He started tapping the back of the wall with his staff in search of a hidden door.

Caithwistë glanced at the floor and furrowed her eyebrows. It was covered in a fine sand, but the only footprints she could see belonged to her and Mithrandir. It didn’t make sense, there should have been some signs of movement. Even if the Company hadn’t been in it an animal surely would have made its way through at some point. She kneeled down and started to move the sand around, not fully sure what she was searching for. After a few moments she found a spot where the sand disappeared. “Mithrandir.” She said softly, uncovering a small crack.

He stopped his tapping and watched her curiously before he grimaced. “Goblins.” He said with a groan.

Caithwistë shivered at the word but nodded. “There should be another entrance close by. If the goblins have them, we don’t have much time.” She stood to leave the cave but stopped when she realized she was alone. She turned back raising an eyebrow at Mithrandir.

He hadn’t moved and was simply watching her with a look of immense pride on his face. “Lead the way, Caithwistë.” He said after a moment of silence, confidently stepping to her.

They found the entrance quickly and walked in, moving quietly through the tunnels. Caithwistë wrinkled her nose as the putrid smell of death invaded her senses. She knew they were headed in the right direction. The worse the smell is, the bigger the congregation of goblins. They would certainly be gathered around their prisoners, a fine catch for the day. She could only hope they were still alive.

The sounds of drums and a boisterous song reached their ears as they exited the tunnel into a massive cavern filled with a complex series of platforms, bridges and lifts with no obvious rhyme or reason. She could see them then, huddled in the center of the large gathering with a large goblin leading the song in front of them. She let out a sigh of relief at seeing the Company alive but felt a stab of fear pierce her when she noticed the goblins pushing brutal torture devices up the ramps.

She took off toward them without a second thought, Mithrandir at her heels. As they drew closer, she heard a goblin squeal in terror and the song ended abruptly. “I know that sword!” Said the voice of the large one that had been singing. “It is the Goblin-cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks! Slash them, beat them, peel them, kill them all!”

The platform erupted in chaos as the goblins moved forward to attack the defenseless Company. They were closer now, and she saw Thorin toss a goblin over the edge of the platform before he was overtaken and pinned down by four more. She drew her bow and nocked an arrow just as the Great Goblin yelled out “Cut off his head!” She saw the goblin on top of Thorin raise its blade and she released her arrow, letting out a guttural scream. As the arrow pierced the goblins head Mithrandir stepped forward and light suddenly exploded around them, pushing everything down.

Slightly dazed, she followed him as he slowly walked to the gathering. As the light in the cavern returned to normal, she saw the equally affected Company and goblins begin to push themselves to their feet. “Take up arms, fight.” Gandalf called out. “FIGHT!” He commanded again when there had been no movement.

Caithwistë drew her sword and in that moment, truly saw it for the first time. It was glowing blue, as all Elvish blades do when goblins are around but the runes were glowing red and pulsing as if it were a heartbeat. She drew strength from it and charged forward at Mithrandir’s side, killing the goblins in their path. The Company was finally finding their way to their feet as they fought their way forward but were still vulnerable as they moved to the pile of weapons. Mithrandir quickly drew a few of the goblins away, clearing the way for Caithwistë to dash through and protect as they armed themselves.

She beheaded a goblin and turned to deflect an attack she knew was coming but Bombur was there, and he knocked the screaming goblin off the platform. She nodded at him and turned, seeing the Great Goblin charging toward a still unarmed Thorin. With a burst of speed, she lept in front of him and blocked the first attack. Emel-o Orcrist rang out beautifully as if it were singing when it clashed with the metal staff; However, the strength of the hit sent a shockwave through her and she staggered slightly. She shakily prepared to block as he raised his staff for a second attack before she was pulled back roughly. She watched as Thorin stepped in front of her, Orcrist now in his hands, and met the attack with incredible strength instead. It was enough to knock the Great Goblin off balance and send him flying off the platform.

Thorin quickly turned to her, appraising. His eyes flicked to the sword in her hand and he raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Caithwistë smiled and shrugged, making him chuckle as they joined the fight again, side-by-side. Together, they cleared the area around them quickly. She felt as if they would be unstoppable, but the goblins were many and eventually they would be overwhelmed.

Mithrandir must have realized this as well. “Follow me. RUN!” He called out gesturing to the tunnels. Caithwistë took the lead across the bridge with Thorin right behind her. As they passed through into another cavern, they were met with the sight of more goblins moving in to cut them off. Thorin pushed her against the wall and Dwalin charged ahead, leading Nori, Fili, Bifur and Glóin to clear the path in front of them.

As the five moved forward, Caithwistë saw another group of goblins moving through the intersecting pathways to split the group. “This way, keep moving!” She cried leading the rest behind her to a higher platform. She killed the few goblins in front of her and led them in a sprint up the path. They continued like this for some time, constantly having to change their direction as the goblins cut them off. She wasn’t sure how long they had been fighting like that when they crossed another bridge and the Great Goblin exploded through it, blocking their path. Now at the back of the group, Caithwistë turned with her sword raised as the goblins surrounded them again.

Thorin stepped in front of her and gently pushed her closer to the Company as the Great Goblin began taunting Mithrandir. “Stay behind me.” He warned quietly as Dwalin took a place next to him, facing the goblins with his axe raised. Caithwistë opened her mouth to protest but Thorin glared at her, as if daring her to argue. She huffed in frustration but nodded and he turned back to the goblins raising Orcrist.

“What are you going to do now, wizard?” The Great Goblin was saying. Suddenly he squealed in pain and she turned to see him on his knees nodding in shock. “That’ll do it.” He said before Mithrandir slashed at his throat and he collapsed, the force of impact shaking the bridge. Caithwistë groaned when she heard the first snap and the ground became unstable beneath their feet. Thorin grabbed her hand and glanced at her. His eyes were wide with a fear she had never seen on him as more of the beams snapped and the bridge fell, taking them with it.

Authors Notes: Okay y’all, I have a schedule in the brain. I’m thinking I’ll post Wednesdays and Sundays BUT... I am forced to be leaving town for a week so this week I will post today and Friday, then will be off for the week. I would take my laptop to keep posting but with me but on these trips, by the time I make it to my room at night I literally hit my pillow and am snoring. I will either send out another chapter the Sunday I return or the day after and gah, that is literally my favorite chapter so far!!! Worth the wait IMO. It is literally the fluffiest of fluffness I have EVER written!

Actual Author notes: I know for a fact that I didn’t do this fight sequence justice, but if I had written out the full thing I’m pretty sure it would have taken up 2 or 3 full chapters and that wasn’t worth it for this particular story. Just saying. I’ll make up for it though, much promise! Hope y’all enjoy and thank you for your amazing support so far!!!

#the hobbit imagine #the hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin x ofc #thorin imagine

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ucflibrary · 4 years

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Ready to fly your flag?

Pride Month has arrived! While every day is a time to be proud of your identity and orientation, June is that extra special time for boldly celebrating with and for the LGBTQIA community (yes, there are more than lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender in the queer community). June was chosen to honor the Stonewall Riots which happened in 1969. Like other celebratory months, LGBT Pride Month started as a weeklong series of events and expanded into a full month of festivities.

In honor of Pride Month, UCF Library faculty and staff suggested books from the UCF collection that represent a wide array of queer authors and characters. Click on the read more link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links.

With the Libraries’ on remote resource access, the usual extended physical display isn’t available so we have created a list of ebooks and streaming videos that you can access from the comfort of your home.

A Wild and Precious Life: a memoir by Edie Windsor A lively, intimate memoir from an icon of the gay rights movement, describing gay life in 1950s and 60s New York City and her longtime activism which opened the door for marriage equality. Edie Windsor became internationally famous when she sued the US government, seeking federal recognition for her marriage to Thea Spyer, her partner of more than four decades. The Supreme Court ruled in Edie's favor, a landmark victory that set the stage for full marriage equality in the US. Beloved by the LGBTQ community, Edie embraced her new role as an icon; she had already been living an extraordinary and groundbreaking life for decades. Suggested by Kelly Young, Administration

How We Fight for Our Lives: a memoir by Saeed Jones Haunted and haunting, Jones's memoir tells the story of a young, black, gay man from the South as he fights to carve out a place for himself, within his family, within his country, within his own hopes, desires, and fears. Through a series of vignettes that chart a course across the American landscape, Jones draws readers into his boyhood and adolescence--into tumultuous relationships with his mother and grandmother, into passing flings with lovers, friends and strangers. Each piece builds into a larger examination of race and queerness, power and vulnerability, love and grief: a portrait of what we all do for one another--and to one another--as we fight to become ourselves. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

How to Write an Autobiographical Novel: essays by Alexander Chee Chee’s manifesto on the entangling of life, literature, and politics, and how the lessons learned from a life spent reading and writing fiction have changed him. In these essays, he grows from student to teacher, reader to writer, and reckons with his identities as a son, a gay man, a Korean American, an artist, an activist, a lover, and a friend. He examines some of the most formative experiences of his life and the nation's history, including his father's death, the AIDS crisis, 9/11, the jobs that supported his writing--Tarot-reading, bookselling, cater-waiting for William F. Buckley—the writing of his first novel, Edinburgh, and the election of Donald Trump. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Juliet Takes a Breath by Gabby Rivera Juliet Milagros Palante is leaving the Bronx and headed to Portland, Oregon. She just came out to her family and isn't sure if her mom will ever speak to her again. But Juliet has a plan, sort of, one that's going to help her figure out this whole "Puerto Rican lesbian" thing. She's interning with the author of her favorite book: Harlowe Brisbane, the ultimate authority on feminism, women's bodies, and other gay-sounding stuff. With more questions than answers, Juliet takes on Portland, Harlowe, and most importantly, herself. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

No Tea, No Shade: new writings in Black queer studies edited by E. Patrick Johnson This book brings together nineteen essays from the next generation of black queer studies scholars, activists, and community leaders who build on the foundational work of black queer studies, pushing the field in new and exciting directions. Suggested by Jada Reyes, Research & Information Services

Over the Top: a raw journey to self-love by Jonathan Van Ness Before he stole our hearts as the grooming and self-care expert on Netflix’s hit show Queer Eye, Jonathan was growing up in a small Midwestern town that didn’t understand why he was so…over the top. From choreographed carpet figure skating routines to the unavoidable fact that he was Just. So. Gay., Jonathan was an easy target and endured years of judgement, ridicule and trauma—yet none of it crushed his uniquely effervescent spirit. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and you’ll come away knowing that no matter how broken or lost you may be, you’re a Kelly Clarkson song, you’re strong, and you’ve got this. Suggested by Kelly Young, Administration

Queer, Trans, and Intersectional Theory in Educational Practice: student, teacher, and community experiences edited by Cris Mayo and Mollie V. Blackburn Queer theory, trans theory, and intersectional theory have all sought to describe, create, and foster a sense of complex subjectivity and community, insisting on relationality and complexity as concepts and communities shift and change. This collection brings these crucial theories together to inform pedagogies across a wide array of contexts of formal education and community-based educational settings. Suggested by Anna Dvorecky, Cataloging

Real Queer America: LGBT stories from red states by Samantha Allen Allen takes us on a cross-country road-trip stretching all the way from Provo, Utah to the Rio Grande Valley to the Bible Belt to the Deep South. Her motto for the trip: "Something gay every day." Making pit stops at drag shows, political rallies, and hubs of queer life across the heartland, she introduces us to scores of extraordinary LGBT people working for change, from the first openly transgender mayor in Texas history to the manager of the only queer night club in Bloomington, Indiana, and many more. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Shakesqueer: a queer companion to the complete works of Shakespeare edited by Madhavi Menon Exploring what is odd, eccentric, and unexpected in the Bard’s plays and poems, these theorists highlight not only the many ways that Shakespeare can be queered but also the many ways that Shakespeare can enrich queer theory. This innovative anthology reveals an early modern playwright insistently returning to questions of language, identity, and temporality, themes central to contemporary queer theory. Chasing all manner of stray desires through every one of Shakespeare’s plays and poems, the contributors cross temporal, animal, theoretical, and sexual boundaries with abandon. Together they expand the reach of queerness and queer critique across chronologies, methodologies, and bodies. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Sister Outsider: essays and speeches by Audre Lorde In this charged collection of fifteen essays and speeches, Lorde takes on sexism, racism, ageism, homophobia, and class, and propounds social difference as a vehicle for action and change. Her prose is incisive, unflinching, and lyrical, reflecting struggle but ultimately offering messages of hope. This commemorative edition includes a new foreword by Lorde-scholar and poet Cheryl Clarke, who celebrates the ways in which Lorde's philosophies resonate more than twenty years after they were first published. Suggested by Jada Reyes, Research & Information Services

Stories I Told Myself: a memoir by Brian D. Crimmins (UCF Thesis) Stories I Told Myself: A Memoir explores the experience of growing up gay in the 1980s. It is one boy's journey toward self-acceptance set against the conservative backdrop of a rural community on California's central coast. The story illuminates the hunger for a life different than the one being lived, and the ever-present sense of being different exacerbated by bullying and unrequited love. It is a narrative of evolving identity, and includes cultural insights and societal context of the time period. The author poses a fundamental question, "How did I make it out of the 80's alive?" and he explores the answer with poignant humor and self-examination. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

The Book of Pride: LGBTQ heroes who changed the world by Mason Funk Captures the true story of the LGBTQ civil rights movement from the 1960s to the present through richly detailed, stunning interviews with the leaders, activists, and ordinary people who witnessed the revolution and made it happen. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

The Crimson Letter: Harvard, homosexuality, and the shaping of American culture by Douglas Shand-Tucci Historian Douglass Shand-Tucci explores the nature and expression of sexual identity at America's oldest university during the years of its greatest influence. The Crimson Letter follows the gay experience at Harvard in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, focusing upon students, faculty, alumni, and hangers-on who struggled to find their place within the confines of Harvard Yard and in the society outside. Suggested by Pat Tiberii, Interlibrary Loan & Document Delivery Services

Time is the Thing a Body Moves Through by T Fleischmann Sebald meets Maggie Nelson in this autobiographical narrative of embodiment, visual art, history, and loss. T Fleischmann uses Felix Gonzales-Torres's artworks--piles of candy, stacks of paper, puzzles--as a path through questions of love and loss, violence and rejuvenation, gender and sexuality. From the back porches of Buffalo, to the galleries of New York and L.A., to farmhouses of rural Tennessee, the artworks act as still points, sites for reflection situated in lived experience. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Trauma, Violence, and Lesbian Agency in Croatia and Serbia: building better times by Bojan Bilić This book uncovers some of the major moments in the fragile and still poorly known herstory of feminist lesbian engagement in Serbia and Croatia. By treating the trauma of war, homophobia, and neoliberal capitalism as a verbally impenetrable experience that longs to be narrated, this monograph explores the ways in which feminist lesbian language has repeatedly emerged in the context of strong patriarchal silencing that has surrounded the armed conflicts of the Yugoslav succession. The book renders visible a surprising diversity of activist initiatives and the resilience of transnational affective ties, which testify to the creativity of lesbian activist mobilizations in the ambivalent semi-peripheral space that used to be Yugoslavia. Suggested by Anna Dvorecky, Cataloging

We Are Everywhere: protest, power, and pride in the history of Queer Liberation by Matthew Riemer and Leighton Brown Have pride in history. Through the lenses of protest, power, and pride, this is an essential overview -- and a visual record -- of the history of the Queer Liberation Movement in the United States. With exhaustively researched narrative and hundreds of stunning photographs, this sweeping book traces queer activism from its roots in the late-nineteenth-century -- long before the pivotal Stonewall Riots of 1969 -- to today, casting new light on many of the movement's trailblazing activists and organizations. Suggested by Christina Wray, Student Learning & Engagement

#ucflibrary #featured bookshelf #reading #booklr #lgbtqia+ pride #queer

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pfenniged · 4 years

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My (Updated) Masterpost for Asexuality [2020]:

Some Youtube Videos I found Really Lovely and Validating:

Debunking Asexual and Aromantic Myths

Ace-Spec and Are-Spectrum Book Recommendations

And Some LGBTQIA+ Channels That Bring Up Asexual Experiences:

Rowan Ellis

Problems of a Book Nerd

Jessica Kellgren-Fozard

Some Shows with Confirmed Asexual Characters:

Sex Education

Bojack Horseman

Liv in ‘Emmerdale’ (UK Soap)

Historical Asexuals/ Demisexuals:

Emily Brontë: Emily Brontë was a very private person and as such it’s impossible to be entirely certain of her sexual orientation. Some Brontë scholars believe she died a virgin, never having had physical relationships with men or women. However, most Brontë scholars think that the content of her novels would suggest she may have been asexual, but she was not aromantic.

J.M. Barrie: The man who wrote Peter Pan into existence, was reportedly asexual. His marriage was never consummated and ended in divorce when his wife cheated on him. Because of his relationship with his neighbor children, and the subject matter of his books, some speculated Barrie was prone to pedophilia. Those who knew him closely vehemently deny Barrie ever exhibited such behavior. Instead his lack of sexual relationships was more likely due to his asexuality.

George Bernard Shaw: Renowned playwright George Bernard Shaw was a man far more interested in intellect than sex. He never consummated his marriage (also at the request of his wife, Charlotte Frances Payne-Townshend) and was a virgin until 29. Shaw told friends he appreciated the ability of sex to produce “a celestial flood of emotion and exaltation” but only as it compared to the “conscious intellectual activity” he strove for with his work.

Isaac Newton: Isaac Newton’s supposed asexuality is based on his recorded behavior and lifestyle. He had strict religious views, never married, was obsessive in his scientific careers, and supposedly died a virgin. Whether he truly lacked sexual attraction or was simply too immersed in making massive scientific discoveries to have a sex life is unsure.

T.E. Lawrence: Tragically, T.E. Lawrence – a man immortalized in the film Lawrence of Arabia – was sexually assaulted while held prisoner during The Great War. His lack of sexual and romantic relationships in life were mostly attributed to this trauma but some scholars argue he may have been asexual. He had no documented relationships with men or women. Most notably, since it was the turn of the 20th century, Lawrence was known to be non-judgmental of homosexuals. His personal orientation may have motivated his tolerance.

Florence Nightingale: Interestingly, though “the Florence Nightingale effect” is a situation where a caregiver develops an attraction to the patient they are caring for, the effect’s namesake, Florence Nightingale, was likely asexual. The famous nurse never married and instead chose to devote her life entirely to her work. She even refused a marriage proposal from a suitor who had been pursuing her for years. Nightingale rarely discussed her personal life and the term “asexual” was not widely used at the time, but asexual activists and scholars strongly suspect she lacked sexual interest.

Nikola Tesla: Nikola Tesla, the revolutionary engineer who was instrumental in the invention of electricity, also lived a life of celibacy typical of asexuals. He showed very little interest in sexual relationships throughout his life, preferring to focus on science. Many asexuals describe their lack of attraction as a blessing allowing them sharp focus. Once again, we have a person who could have been too busy (and brilliant) to focus on relationships, but who’s asexuality likely allowed him to be busy (and brilliant). [Fun fact: I am actually related to ol’Nikola. Sometimes it’s nice to even think about someone in my family being asexual, because it makes me feel like we’d both be able to get along together when we get fixed in our little studies, research, and schemes ♥]

Frederic Chopin: Famed composer and pianist Frederic Chopin is supposed to also have been asexual. While he lived with writer George Sand, she noted in her biography that their connection was affectionate without being sexual. She described their affair as “eight years of maternal devotion,“ also noting, “He seemed to despise the courser side of human nature and…to fear to soil our love by further ecstasy.”Whether Chopin was uninterested in sex, or had reservations about consummating the relationship for other reasons, is unclear. Many scholars believe the famed pianist lacked sexual desire altogether.

John Ruskin: Victorian art critic John Ruskin was known to be particularly uninterested in sex. Though Ruskin was once married, he reportedly showed no interest in getting physical with his wife. Typical of other asexuals on this list, his marriage ended having never been consummated.

Young Adult Fiction/ Books about Asexuality (NOTE: Some of these are coming out later this year, August and September 2020):

How to be Ace: A Memoir of Growing Up Asexual by Rebecca Burgess: Brave, witty and empowering, this graphic memoir follows Rebecca as she navigates her asexual identity and mental health in a world obsessed with sex. From school to work to relationships, this book offers an unparalleled insight into asexuality.

Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, And The Meaning Of Sex by Angela Chen: An engaging exploration of what it means to be asexual in a world that’s obsessed with sexual attraction, and what the ace perspective can teach all of us about desire and identity. What exactly is sexual attraction and what is it like to go through life not experiencing it? What does asexuality reveal about gender roles, about romance and consent, and the pressures of society? This accessible examination of asexuality shows that the issues that aces face–confusion around sexual activity, the intersection of sexuality and identity, navigating different needs in relationships–are the same conflicts that nearly all of us will experience. Through a blend of reporting, cultural criticism, and memoir, the misconceptions around the “A” of LGBTQIA and invites everyone to rethink pleasure and intimacy.Journalist Angela Chen creates her path to understanding her own asexuality with the perspectives of a diverse group of asexual people. Vulnerable and honest, these stories include a woman who had blood tests done because she was convinced that “not wanting sex” was a sign of serious illness, and a man who grew up in a religious household and did everything “right,” only to realize after marriage that his experience of sexuality had never been the same as that of others. Disabled aces, aces of color, gender-nonconforming aces, and aces who both do and don’t want romantic relationships all share their experiences navigating a society in which a lack of sexual attraction is considered abnormal. Chen’s careful cultural analysis explores how societal norms limit understanding of sex and relationships and celebrates the breadth of sexuality and queerness.

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann: Alice’s last girlfriend, Margo, ended things when Alice confessed she’s asexual. Now Alice is sure she’s done with dating… and then she meets Takumi. She can’t stop thinking about him or the rom-com-grade romance feelings she did not ask for. When her blissful summer takes an unexpected turn and Takumi becomes her knight with a shiny library-employee badge, Alice has to decide if she’s willing to risk their friendship for a love that might not be reciprocated– or understood. [A bisexual POC protagonist; adorable fluffy, easy and sweet read].

All Out: The No-longer-secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout the Ages: Take a journey through time and genres and discover a past where queer figures live, love, and shape the world around them. Seventeen of the best young adult authors across the queer spectrum have come together to create a collection of beautifully written diverse historical fiction for teens. [This features several different types of queer stories, from transexual freedom fighters, but also a very sweet asexual love story set in a seventies roller rink with a POC protagonist].

The Pride Guide: A Guide to Sexual and Social Health for LGBTQ Youth by Jo Lanford: Jo Langford offers a complete guide to sexual and social development, safety, and health for LGBTQ youth and those who love and support them. Written from a practical perspective, the author explores the realities of teen sexuality, particularly that of trans teens, and provides guidance and understanding for parents and kids alike. [Although this is a little rudimentary, I found it a great resource even in my twenties for someone coming out, or to slowly but carefully come out to those who may be uncomfortable or not understand asexuality, or not see it as a valid sexuality or lack thereof].

Tash Hearts Tolstoy by Katie Ormsbee: Natasha ‘Tash’ Zelenka has found herself and her amateur web series plucked from obscurity and thrust in the limelight. And who wouldn’t want fame and fortune? But along with the 40,000 new subscribers, the gushing tweets, and flashing Tumblr gifs, comes the pressure to deliver the best web series ever. As Tash struggles to combat the critics and her own doubts, she finds herself butting heads with her family and friends - the ones that helped make her show, Unhappy Families (a modern adaption of Anna Karenina, written by Tash’s eternal love Leo Tolstoy), what it is today. And when Unhappy Families is nominated for a prestigious award, Tash’s confusing cyber-flirtation with an Internet celeb suddenly has the potential to become something IRL if she can figure out how to tell him that she’s a romantic asexual. But her new relationship creates tension with her friend Paul since he thought Tash wasn’t interested in relationships ever. All Tash wants to think about is the upcoming award ceremony in Orlando, even though she’ll have to face all the friends she steamrolled to get there. But isn’t that just the price you pay for success?

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire: The story is set in a boarding school for teenagers who have passed through "doorways” into fantasy worlds only to be evicted back into the real world. It serves as something of a recovery center for boarders who find they no longer fit in, either in the “real” world or their own uncomprehending families. For a fortunate few it is just a way station until they can find their ways back to the worlds they do fit into; for others, it’s the least bleak choice in what may be a life-long exile. This unhappy ending for the students takes a terrifying turn when some of their number start turning up dead. A small group joins together in an attempt to expose the person committing these murders before it is too late to save the school, or even themselves.

The Invisible Orientation: An Introduction to Asexuality by Julie Sondra Decker: What if you weren’t sexually attracted to anyone?A growing number of people are identifying as asexual. They aren’t sexually attracted to anyone, and they consider it a sexual orientation—like gay, straight, or bisexual.Asexuality is the invisible orientation. Most people believe that “everyone” wants sex, that “everyone” understands what it means to be attracted to other people, and that “everyone” wants to date and mate. But that’s where asexual people are left out—they don’t find other people sexually attractive, and if and when they say so, they are very rarely treated as though that’s okay.When an asexual person comes out, alarming reactions regularly follow; loved ones fear that an asexual person is sick, or psychologically warped, or suffering from abuse. Critics confront asexual people with accusations of following a fad, hiding homosexuality, or making excuses for romantic failures. And all of this contributes to a discouraging master narrative: there is no such thing as “asexual.” Being an asexual person is a lie or an illness, and it needs to be fixed.In The Invisible Orientation, Julie Sondra Decker outlines what asexuality is, counters misconceptions, provides resources, and puts asexual people’s experiences in context as they move through a very sexualized world. It includes information for asexual people to help understand their orientation and what it means for their relationships, as well as tips and facts for those who want to understand their asexual friends and loved ones [A good beginning place to start if you’re considering your asexuality. Also provides reassurances about the most common stereotypes concerning asexuality].

Switchback by Danika Stone: Vale loves to hike, but kind of hates her classmates. Ash is okay with his classmates, but kind of hates the outdoors. So, needless to say they are both fairly certain that the overnight nature hike with their PE class is going to be a hellish experience. But when they get separated from the group during a storm, they have worse things to worry about than bullies and blisters.Lost in the Canadian wilderness with limited supplies, caught in dangerous weather conditions, and surrounded by deadly wildlife, it’s going to take every bit of strength, skill, and luck they can muster to survive.

Not Your Backup (Sidekick Squad #3) by C.B. Lee: Emma Robledo has a few more responsibilities that the usual high school senior, but then again, she and her friends have left school to lead a fractured Resistance movement against a corrupt Heroes League of Heroes. Emma is the only member of a supercharged team without powers, and she isn’t always taken seriously. A natural leader, Emma is determined to win this battle, and when that’s done, get back to school. As the Resistance moves to challenge the League, Emma realizes where her place is in this fight: at the front. [This is a third in a series, but the main character has recently come out as asexual at the end of the last book].

If It Makes You Happy by Claire Kann: Winnie is living her best fat girl life and is on her way to her favorite place—Misty Haven and her granny’s diner, Goldeen’s. With her family and ungirlfriend at her side, she has everything she needs for one last perfect summer before starting college in the fall.…until she becomes Misty Haven’s Summer Queen.Newly crowned, Winnie is forced to take center stage at a never-ending list of community royal engagements. Almost immediately, she discovers that she’s deathly afraid of it all: the spotlight, the obligations, and the way her Summer King wears his heart, humor, and honesty on his sleeve.To salvage her summer Winnie must conquer her fears, defy expectations, and be the best Winnie she knows she can be—regardless of what anyone else thinks of her. [Another POC protagonist and promises to be a cute summer read in the vein of Gilmore Girls. Claire Kann’s first book was the adorable ‘Lets Talk About Love’ which reads as an asexual rom-com. This also promises to be absolutely precious.].

Immoral Code by Lillian Clark: Ocean’s 8 meets The Breakfast Club in this fast-paced, multi-perspective story about five teens determined to hack into one billionaire absentee father’s company to steal tuition money.For Nari, aka Narioka Diane, aka hacker digital alter ego “d0l0s,” it’s college and then a career at “one of the big ones,” like Google or Apple. Keagan, her sweet, sensitive boyfriend, is happy to follow her wherever she may lead. Reese is an ace/aro visual artist with plans to travel the world. Santiago is off to Stanford on a diving scholarship, with very real Olympic hopes. And Bellamy? Physics genius Bellamy is admitted to MIT–but the student loan she’d been counting on is denied when it turns out her estranged father–one Robert Foster–is loaded. Nari isn’t about to let her friend’s dreams be squashed by a deadbeat billionaire, so she hatches a plan to steal just enough from Foster to allow Bellamy to achieve her goals.

Loveless by Alice Oseman: The fourth novel from the phenomenally talented Alice Oseman - one of the most authentic and talked-about voices in contemporary YA.It was all sinking in. I'd never had a crush on anyone. No boys, no girls, not a single person I had ever met. What did that mean? Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush - but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she's sure she'll find her person one day. As she starts university with her best friends, Pip and Jason, in a whole new town far from home, Georgia's ready to find romance, and with her outgoing roommate on her side and a place in the Shakespeare Society, her 'teenage dream' is in sight. But when her romance plan wreaks havoc amongst her friends, Georgia ends up in her own comedy of errors, and she starts to question why love seems so easy for other people but not for her. With new terms thrown at her - asexual, aromantic - Georgia is more uncertain about her feelings than ever. Is she destined to remain loveless? Or has she been looking for the wrong thing all along? This wise, warm and witty story of identity and self-acceptance sees Alice Oseman on towering form as Georgia and her friends discover that true love isn't limited to romance.

The Last Eight by Laura Pohl: Extinction was just the beginning in this thrilling, post-apocalyptic debut, perfect for fans of The 5th Wave series. Clover Martinez has always been a survivor, which is the reason she isn’t among the dead when aliens invade and destroy Earth as she knows it.Clover is convinced she’s the only one left until she hears a voice on the radio urging her to go to the former Area 51. When she arrives, she’s greeted by a band of misfits who call themselves The Last Teenagers on Earth.Only they aren’t the ragtag group of heroes Clover was expecting. The seven strangers seem more interested in pretending the world didn’t end than fighting back, and Clover starts to wonder if she was better off alone. But when she finds a hidden spaceship within the walls of the compound, she doesn’t know what to believe…or who to trust. [I’ve read there is also aromantic representation in this book too, so helpful for the Aros out there as well ♥]

LGBTQIA+ Comics with Possible Asexual Representation/ Influence:

Lumberjanes: At Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types, things are not what they seem. Three-eyed foxes. Secret caves. Anagrams. Luckily, Jo, April, Mal, Molly, and Ripley are five rad, butt-kicking best pals determined to have an awesome summer together…and they’re not gonna let a magical quest or an array of supernatural critters get in their way! [I LOVE THESE COMICS SO MUCH I SWEAR THEY’RE SO DAMN CUTE ♥]

The Backstagers: When Jory transfers to the private, all-boys school St. Genesius, he figures joining the stage crew would involve a lot of just fetching props and getting splinters. To his pleasant surprise, he discovers there’s a door backstage that leads to different worlds, and all of the stagehands know about it!All the world’s a stage…but what happens behind the curtain is pure magic!

And Lastly, Extra Online Resources For Asexuality:

UCLA LGBT Campus Resource Center: Asexuality

The Trevor Project on Asexuality

Campus Pride: Asexuality

The Canadian Centre for Gender Diversity and Awareness

Asexuality needs to be a recognized as its own, unique sexual orientation, Canadian experts say

Asexuality.org

A Lot of Ace (An Ace Positivity Blog on Tumblr ♥)

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foxten · 4 years

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𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻 repost, don’t reblog !

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME. nathaniel abram wesninski neil abram josten.

MEANING. nathaniel: “gift of god”, abram: “exalted father”, neil: “champion”.

NICKNAME. neil, junior, josten, abram, runaway, number 10.

GENDER. trans male.

HEIGHT. 5’3.

AGE. 20.

ZODIAC. capricorn-aquarius cusp.

LANGUAGES. english, french, german, spanish, japanese, american and british sign language, and hebrew

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢��𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR. auburn.

EYE COLOR. pale blue.

BODY TYPE. underfed, lean, athletic. ( imagine professional runners. )

ACCENT. baltimore with british pronunciation of words but actively suppresses any noticeable accent. can adopt and authentically mimic multiple other accents in a local area to blend in

VOICE. quiet and hoarse, soft and mumbling, low scathing anger, sarcastic, overly confident and outspoken.

DOMINANT HAND. ambidextrous.

POSTURE. nervous and defensive, arms crossed and slouched. actively trying not to be noticed.

SCARS. impression of a clothing iron on right shoulder, bullet scar below right collar bone (no exit wound but extreme scaring because bullet had to be removed), 5 intersecting horizontal cuts on lower abdomen, stab wound just above left hip, bullet graze on back of right thigh, road rash/abrasions scar on chest from left shoulder to naval, various horizontal scars of equal length in various places on torso, 6 horizontal cuts on each forearm interspersed with quarter sized burns from car lighter between them, abrasion scars on wrists from where skin was rubbed raw by handcuffs (twice), crisscrossing scars on both hands, quarter sized burns on all knuckles, bullet scar on left calf, 4 diagonal scars on right jaw / cheek, multiple quarter sized burns all in same place on left cheek bone

TATTOOS. fox + “10” tattoo on right bicep, house key on inner left thigh, circle of rabbits running on right knee, “neil” tattooed on right ribs, “40.4355°” (left) “124.4027°” (right) on ribs below pectoral muscle, “win because you don’t know how to die quietly” on back of left shoulder, date of exy championship win on inner left bicep, exy racquet on left shin

MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). ugly scars on face, height, striking coloring of hair and eyes.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH. baltimore, america.

HOMETOWN. baltimore, america.

PARENTS. mary hatford and nathan wesninski.

PARENT INVOLVEMENT. hoo boy. neil's father is a serial killer known as the butcher of baltimore and an absolute and unrepentant bastard. as a father and a husband Nathan wesninski made life for neil and his mother nightmarish. they were always at the mercy of his moods and when he ran out of cruelty to inflict on his enemies he would turn to his child and wife. neil had always been afraid of his father. the world that he came into was bloody and cruel and nathan cultivated that fear, he wanted neil to be afraid because when someone was afraid they were easier to control. if you were the thing a person feared most then it was unlikely that they would ever betray you. he thought if neil was afraid of him he would respect him but all it did was make him hate him. his mother had it worse, he was acutely aware of this fact from the sounds he heard through the walls of the house that would rattle the very frame of the wooden keep. mary hatford was not a soft woman or even a kind one but she and neil had a bond of shared suffering. like two people held hostage by the same monster.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION. professional athlete.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. personal: house in columbia, south carolina. school: fox tower, palmetto college.

CLOSE FRIENDS. andrew minyard, robin cross, kevin day, matt boyd, dan wilds, jean moreau, allison reynolds, nicky hemmick

RELATIONSHIP STATUS. taken.

CRIMINAL RECORD. wanted by the fbi as a person of interest in the ongoing case of his father, as well as credit card fraud, grand theft auto, breaking and entering, aggravated assault, evading arrest, murder, theft, possession of counterfeit documents, and so many other things

VICES. wrath, pride, envy.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. demi sexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. demi romantic.

PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch

PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch

LIBIDO. med / high.

LOVE LANGUAGE. acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. exit music (for a film) by radiohead.

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. running. lying. exy.

MENTAL ILLNESSES. ptsd, depression, anxiety.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. chronic pain in joints and old injuries.

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. left.

PHOBIAS. drowning, fear of discovery, his father.

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. 3. ish? neil has a very low opinion of himself and is extremely pessimistic about the outcome of most situations.

VULNERABILITIES. paranoia, distrust, temper, loyalty.

tagged by: @sunbruise tagging: @infernumagi / @violentiae ( andrew ) / @boycrowned / @carbonhands / @ichorim / @swnsn / @postguilt

#oh this was fun aaaaa ty for tagging me in this #🥍 between you and me i don't think you've ever been fine. ─ headcanon.#🔐 i don't want to run. i want to be neil josten. i want to be a fox. ─ study.

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thatbangtanbloom · 5 years

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Dionysus | jhs

dionysus | jhs

characters: hoseok x reader

au(s): greek god!au, historical!au

categories: angst, fluff, lots of tension

word count: 2,013

For as long as he could remember, Jung Hoseok was taught the grand distinction between the gods and the mortals. It was a once in an epoch phenomenon, to cross paths with someone as rare as Dionysus (the immortal name that his father had bestowed upon him); someone simultaneously both within and without; to exist as both a god and a human. This duality of nature prompted Hoseok to a childhood of hardships. Before the time that he could hold a kylix* in his hand, his father had told him of his mother, Semele, who had burned to a crisp the second she saw Zeus (Hoseok’s father) in his truest form. This was the first time Hoseok realized that he was to be untalked of, unseen, and unloved.

Hoseok still recalls being looked down upon by his many brothers and sisters for being the very breed that his father governed and ridiculed for being ‘too’ human. Athena laughed when he bled from falling from Mount Olympus. Apollo scolded him for his humanly movements when he stroke his harp. Artemis scoffed when his actions were too in-deliberate and Heracles expressed disconcert for his lack of strength.

Hoseok did not expect to be admired by anyone as he grew older. His younger, much more vulnerable years were marred by the criticism of his siblings and the hateful vengeance of his step-mother (or step-witch, at times, Hoseok didn’t know what the difference was). He found himself growing more drawn to the rhythmic lilts of music, often paired with the toxic effects of inebriation that allowed for him to feel more at home. Those two things accompanied him to the edge and granted him his title as god of wine and patron of the arts. But a lesser known fact would have been that he was a patron of you, as well.

You were small, insignificant, a mere mortal that a god would not pay attention to. You did not have much to your name; nothing but an arranged marriage with a local village boy named Jungkook, and more movement that a woman of your class, stature, hell, era should have had. Your father called you everything short but of a perfect daughter and you knew that you likely scared your husband-to-be with each time he saw the movement of your hips in broad daylight.

Everyone would have beseech you to stop.

Everyone, that is, but Jung Hoseok.

Hoseok admired the courage you took, the confidence and poise that you held while balancing your own free will. While he was never one to take women to the woods to join his cult (despite it being what he was infamous for), he found himself wishing that one day you would fall into the palm of his hand.

It was almost as though he could not pinpoint it - was it admiration? Adoration? Infatuation? Obsession? As he resided over Mount Olympus, watching over you like a preoccupied guardian, he found his attachment growing more and his insatiable desires (or lust? Hoseok never knew these things) that always drew himself back to you.

“Have you heard of the Cult of Dionysus?” Agafya asks you from beside the riverbed as you stare out into the thin confines of water. You have always hated the way that you were pigeonholed into society; expected to marry, expected to produce children, expected to have no dreams outside of making sure your husband satisfied his.

You nod, not paying attention to her as you dip your toes into the cold water. It’s freezing, almost suffocating your ankles with the iciness, but you feel that it somehow feels better compared to how you feel above water.

Agafya rubs her arm nervously as she notices your disinterest. “I have heard from the other villagers that his presence has been felt in the woods.. I fear that he grows near.. Y/N, what shall we do?”

“What can we do if he is as irresistible as they say he is?” You reply with a raised brow. “Who are we to defy the fate of the gods when they have so generously given us a haven to exist on?” You ask with a scoff.

Agafya’s frown deepens at your apathetic attitude. “Do you not remember the oracle and your story? YN! You should be the most afraid of all… you are susceptible when you are not under the influence of the god’s divine drink! Have you no shame that he may… covet you without so much as lifting a finger?”

The mention of the oracle makes your skin crawl. It had been the final nail in the coffin to how your parents intended you be wed off to a sensible, strong man. As the story goes, you would follow the fate as other foolish women entangled with the gods did - to be a divine gift, another crown jewel for Zeus, Hera would see for your immediate end.

But unlike them, you refused to believe in such things. Why would you not choose your own autonomy when you choose to wash your face, brush your hair, read, and cook for yourself every morning? What was the difference in autonomy with choosing life over death? You knew the values of the gods - the misconstrued reasoning that often plagued them and their tendency of fooling mortals. But not you, you would not be blinded by the materialistic riches or the lustrous desires. You knew yourself better than that.

“His father converted a mortal.Do you think he would make a mistake to grant a child who is no immortal at all?”You click your tongue before shaking your head. “No man, whether god or not has the reason, charisma, or persuasion to me to do things that go against my value. If anything, he ought to be afraid of me who walks this Earth.”

And little did you know, Hoseok was laughing to himself. He was, in fact, very afraid of you. Or rather, afraid to the degree of which he would find himself tripping over you (in a total god manner, of couse). He pondered on how to approach you, of what means he should do it. Would you fall for his immortal charm? Be blinded by his smile to the point where your eyes could no longer see the sun? Or should he have taken a card from his father’s deck and came in disguise?

“Dionysus… he is here…” Is the first thing you hear in the market as you finish paying for the last of your grapes. You almost find yourself smiling, watching the men who tried to dictate your life scatter in collecting their wives, sisters, and daughters, as though it would protect them from the inevitable.

You do not know the feeling that you find yourself experiencing. Is it pride? Happiness? Euphoria? There is an unnatural swell in your chest, a twinging feeling around your heart. Something in you is yelling, screaming, to enter the forest. For a split second,you question if it is a figure of your imagination. Then the next second, you realize you hear a noise.

The noise is barely above a pin drop, the slightest melody from a flute.

Dionysus’s flute.

Hoseok’s flute.

And for the second time, you find yourself smiling more.

The first person to try to drag you to the house is Agafya, eager to keep you safe through the bustle of the crowd. Her curly brown locks are a mess on her head as she pulls you behind her, running towards her house. It’s a monstrous scene, how women stand upright and walk through the front door, their peplos* dresses barely hugging their figures as they make a slow but strong descent to the forest.

“YN….Why do you walk so slow? Don’t you know that his influence is pervasive? These words may be my last to you!” Agafya screams as she pulls on your arm, nearly falling to the ground to pull you. “Can you not see that you are under his mass influe-”

You do not hear anymore of her. She almost dissipates into dust when your eyes fall on his figure.

He is taller and more beautiful than you could ever imagine. His eyes look as though they hold the secrets to a thousand worlds and his gaze pierces through you. You can barely make the sublime smirk that crosses on his face.

“My.. my… my.. It is the one that I have waited for,” Dionsyus - Hoseok - purrs to you in a tone that could reduce you to nothing more but a pool of adoration for him. “Do you think that this is our first meeting or our last?”

“If I am the one that you have waited for, I wish that you would have chosen to make an appearance earlier.” You retort and Hoseok nearly chokes at your response. You were everything that he could ever imagine; intelligent, brilliant, witty, and beautiful. He wonders if the gods have looked favorably upon him for once.

Hoseok finds himself smirking at your words, “I think that our crossing paths is a providence of the universe. It is not often that a mortal has the will, let alone strength to speak to me in such a manner.”

“I could say the same of you… It is not often that an immortal has the intelligence, let alone the brashness to speak to me in such a manner.” You reply with a soft smile before tilting your hands to the side. “Is this a cause of religious celebration? Of sacrifice, my god?”

He stares at you for a moment, almost in awe of your presence and he wonders if you are the divine and he is a worshiper. He thinks that the roles should be reversed when you manage to command a room, to command him without spite, without malicious intent.

“I think that our meeting is a divine interaction,” He lilts in a soft tone as he takes a seat on his chair. It is the first time you notice the pure whiteness of the room that is intersected by the gold trim of the edge of the desk, of the chair, of the table. “You have heard the story of the oracle, surely?”

“I have.” You say simply as you take in his appearance. The white is the same shade of pure dianthus caryophyullus flowers, or in simpler terms, carnations. It complements the honey brown that protrudes from the collar of his shirt.

“And you are not afraid?” He asks as he leans forward to pour you a glass of wine. The smell is intoxicating and you find yourself growing faint just at the sight of it.

You smile sweetly and it is from then on that Hoseok knows that he is a goner. “I think it is reasonable for you to fear our end as much as I do.”

“Does fate not scare you? I am sure you know as well as I that our story is ill-fated by the stars. While I have found myself in awe of you, I do not find myself afraid of losing it all as long as I find myself able to be with you in the presence, YN.” He whispers your name like a prayer and you wonder if this is real.

“Scare? Yes. Deter? No.” is your humble reply when his eyes finally meet yours. When his eyes meet yours, it is almost as though you can see a thousand other lifetimes with him. An intangible culmination of love, life, deception, and regret all rolled into one and all Hoseok does is smile.

He smiles because he knows that the ends may not justify the means. He smiles because he knows that perhaps you are willing to risk it all like he does, to risk it all like the Muses have destined and you wonder to what extent that this is the end. Until you realize, perhaps this is not the end, but the beginning.

- - - - -

* Terms:

-kylix: traditional Greek drinking cup

- peplos: delegated wear for Greek women in ancient Greece

- - - - -- - - - -

I really like this idea.... Perhaps I could turn this into a series! Tell me what you think! Feel free to ask questions or leave your thoughts. Don’t be a silent reader!

xx,

thatbangtanbloom

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halloweennut · 5 years

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Memento Mori

Memento Mori: a reminder of mortality.

(Or in which Draxum attempts to be emotionally supportive for Recruit despite having looming omens of mortality.)

The Foot Clan’s research in quest of the Dark Armor led them to a secluded remnant of yokai land on the surface. What was once a very well maintained hedge labyrinth had become overgrown and easy to miss through the bramble and trees that had risen from the earth. Their branches grew over the hedgerow, shading the path and making it impossible to see the other side. The labyrinth itself looked more looming and threatening than it had ever been. Draxum remembered seeing the labyrinth a few times all those years ago, prim and pristine, and never again wished to venture in for good reason. Behind the clean-cut edges of branches and leaves and golden glint of sun off leaves lay a threat.

“So…how literal is the name “Labyrinth of Souls?” Jocelynn asked, visibly a little put off. She, Recruit, and a few others were with him at the labyrinth’s entrance. Despite Recruit’s absolute hatred of her, which Draxum understood fundamentally, she was one of only five recruits Draxum deemed suitable enough to handle the labyrinth and procure the armor piece. “They said the translation was a bit literal but is it? Could it just be…a poetic device?”

Draxum refrained from rolling his eyes - the original yokai name was much better and fitting but didn’t translate well, admittedly. “No, it is literal. The generation that named it was known for its less figurative language.”

Before Jocelynn could continue her growing line of questioning, Recruit cut in with her own. “What exactly do you mean by ‘literal’? What are we going to face in here?”

“The maze is called “the Labyrinth of Souls” for good reason,” Draxum began. “It’s haunted.”

“Haunted? What the-” another recruit began to prattle. “I did not sign up for ghosts! I ain’t Scooby-Doo!”

“Your reference is lost on me, and additionally I don’t care,” Draxum said. “Now if I may continue without any more outbursts…the labyrinth is haunted. It simply became that way a very long time ago.”

“Ghosts just don’t come from thin air! What if the labyrinth is magic and killed whoever cheated?” a second nameless recruit added. Draxum stared at them harshly, and Recruit joined him, and they shrank back behind Jocelynn.

“The labyrinth is magic, yes, but the most it does send you back to the beginning if you do cheat,” Draxum continued. “It changes its shape every so often as well, every thirty minutes. To get to the center where the armor is, you all will need to go quickly. Do not separate. Do not cheat. Do not engage with whatever you see.”

“Permission to speak!” Recruit said. Draxum nodded. “Is there any more information on the ghost? It will be relevant.”

Draxum paused. “Do not look at it, and do not let it see you. Whatever the spirit is, because it isn’t a ghost, technically, it can and will try to manipulate you to turn and run, either getting lost in or leaving the labyrinth. As I said, you have thirty minutes to get to the center. From there, the labyrinth will allow you passage out. Understood?”

The recruits snapped into a tight line and saluted. Recruit quickly took the lead of the other four, and they ran into the labyrinth. Draxum watched as they disappeared into the unknown, and stood watching and listening. Huginn and Muninn began to place bets on who would run out screaming first with a few laughs. Draxum ignored them, his attention solely on the passing minutes and the screaming sound of silence, trying to keep his mind away from the times he had gone in - times brought on by a goading dare or from desperation to see faces he missed. He forced the memories down deep, kept himself in the present.

The thirty minutes were up, and the labyrinth began to twist. The entrance stayed the same, but the labyrinth began to echo and groan as it rearranged itself, like old bones forcing themselves to bend and creak. They should have been out by then. Another few minutes passed, Draxum allowing for some benefit of the doubt. When there still wasn’t any sign of them, Draxum brushed the gargoyles off his shoulders. “I’m going in after them. Do not leave this spot. I can at least follow a time constraint.”

“Bye boss!”

“Don’t die!”

Whether or not Draxum paid attention to them was of little relevance as Draxum entered the hedgerow. Skeletal branches jutted out from the green, almost grabbing at him as he made his way into the depths, listening and keeping an eye out for his recruits. The path twisted, breaking into different directions, never once repeating the same design. There were no clues of traces of any of the recruits, forcing Draxum to act solely on instinct alone. He ignored the sound of the wind echoing around him - it sounded like a funeral wail and march all at once, and he didn’t wish to verify the source be it wind or otherwise, not yet. As he turned past corners and through little clearings that may have once been pleasant little hideaways with their gazebos and benches, Draxum’s mind went back centuries - he told himself it was to help make sense of the maze. He didn’t have any more time or patience for being sentimental, only for objective facts.

Objective facts from his memory: the ghost, spirit, what have you was the only one. The form it took was an impression of your most vulnerable memory and meant to scare you. It wasn’t a true shade, only an excellent, harrowing mimicry. Find and follow it to the other people in your group. From these, he had the outline of how to cheat the maze without being sent to the lonesome entrance and forced to begin again. Up ahead, he saw a film of fog slip away behind a corner. There was his quarry, and he bolted, gunning straight towards the specter. He slid around the corner, narrowly avoiding tripping over exposed, neglected roots, long forgotten in their overgrowth. Draxum found himself in another one of those little gazebo hideaways, the flowers overgrown and choking on themselves and the sweet smell of floral rot.

And the ghost stared at him. It stood in front of him, unmoving and eyes blank, blinking sedately every so often. It made no sound of anguish or heartbreak, made no move to reach him. Draxum stared back. It was all he could do, despite the pit of horror in his gut. He straightened his posture, squaring his chin. The ghost mirrored him then, its one and only movement.

“You are not real,” Draxum said coldly. The ghost made no response, only disappearing into the ether. It’s only a hint of a presence was a curling trail of smoke that almost dissipated into the ground before moving out of the clearing. Draxum stood still for a moment, trying in vain to make sense of what he saw, before running to follow it through the maze. It proved difficult, only having a trail of smoke that just escaped from the corner of his eye. It almost felt like he was being led in circles! It was senseless! It was mad!

It was the nature of the maze.

The specter evaded Draxum, shaking him off its tail as the path forked in three directions. Draxum snarled and angrily snapped a dead branch from one of the walls. Three choices laid ahead, and he despised guessing games. A hint, at the very least, came in the form of a distressed shout, coming from the left. He couldn’t tell which recruit it came from, not that it mattered as he followed the sound. As he approached an intersection in the path, a parallel sound of footsteps came running towards the center, towards him. Draxum barely came to a stop when Recruit nearly collided with him. She let out a yelp, immediately going into the offense before recognizing that it was just him. Her hands balled into fists in an instant and she struck at his chest, adrenaline flashing out in a fight response. Draxum was quick to grab her wrists.

“Recruit! Stop!” Draxum barked, finally getting a look at her face. Recruit’s eyes were wide, but he couldn’t read if it was horror, distress or adrenaline or some mix of the three. Her fists were still clenched, just as tightly as her jaw was. He could feel her heartbeat race against his palms, frantic, and it was hard to ignore the full body tremor. Whatever she had seen had been bad. Recruit’s pallid face twinged, her lower lip tucked under her teeth, and suddenly her head dropped and her shoulders slumped. Her fists were still clenched, but Draxum loosened his grip as the top of her head leaned into his chest. He knew she was upset. She, for all her bravado and fearlessness, wore her emotions on her sleeve - her pride, her joy, her anger, and now her fear and distress. He knew she needed comfort.

Draxum was at a loss for what to do.

Giving her what she needed back at the Botanical Gardens was easy. External confidence in her abilities, belief that she was more than capable of retrieving the armor piece, all easily given with an action and a sentence - besides, it all fell into place with his overall plan that night. This was different. While Draxum understood what and why she felt the way she did, he didn’t know the right words to say, the right actions to do. He wasn’t like Lieutenant or Brute and he wasn’t like Lou, and copying any of them would be disingenuous. There was little he could think of doing that could even be in the realm of possibility for him.

Recruit let out a breath that shuddered, snapping him out of his head.

So, in all his loss, he stood still but loosened his grip on her wrists so she could relax them at her sides. Her head was still pressed on his chest and he couldn’t see her face at all. Draxum reasoned that it was for the best that he didn’t, at least not until she had calmed herself down. Recruit’s own pride wouldn’t let her be seen too vulnerable, and he didn’t want to disrupt that. She was already down enough as it was. Cautiously, he placed his hands on her shoulders, not pushing her away but just to brace her.

“Hush,” Draxum said, softly. It was the only thing he could think to say. He knew it wouldn’t help, save to maybe offer some noise to the silence. It was neither an order or a suggestion, just a sound. They stood like that for a few moments, ignoring the rasp of the wind and a creak of the vines. Eventually, Recruit’s breathing evened out, and she stopped shaking. Roughly, she cleared her throat and stepped back, putting distance between the two of them.

“Apologies,” she said gruffly, raising her face mask over her mouth and nose. Draxum nodded, knowing that this would never come up again. “We need to locate the other four. Three of them got spooked and ran off, and Jocelynn and I were separated by the maze while trying to find them.”

“The sooner the better,” Draxum replied. “We’ve spent long enough in here as it is.”

And with that, they began to quickly navigate the labyrinth, although Draxum did notice Recruit keeping behind him instead of trying to keep pace. Like before, it wouldn’t be brought up unless it became a habit - something Draxum doubted. Before long they caught the spirit’s trail again, following it to the sound of startled cries and footsteps. They found Jocelynn first, shaking more than a leaf and rambling about her grandmother. Recruit barely relished the chance to snap Jocelynn out of it with a quick jab to the side. The next two recruits were found together in an almost comedic huddle. One of them repeated that, once again, he was not “Scooby-Doo,” and once again Draxum didn’t care. The last one they found closer to the center. They were unnervingly calm, simply stating that they wanted to go home, wanted out of the Foot Clan, and wanted to apologize to their mother.

“Only after we get the armor piece,” Draxum stipulated. The recruit only nodded and fell in line with the other four. “This time, no separating, understood?”

It was understood and laid unquestioned as they ran through the rest of the maze, ignoring the wind creeping and wailing at their backs as though begging them to turn and look behind them. They ignored the whispers of gray fog and smoke that curled in the corner of their eyes through gritted teeth and clenched jaws as vines and branches grabbed at them from the depths of green leaves. Ignored and run past even as it all seemed to grow more and more frequent until-

It all stopped and went silent and still. They had reached the center of the maze, Draxum realized. The whatever spirit that ran rampant there no longer had reason to go after them. The center was nearly a perfect circle, save for the solitary entrance. In the middle was a small marble fountain, once grand and bubbling with water, now crumbling and choked with dead and decaying leaves. Water sat stagnant with nary a ripple to mar its mirror-like surface. Equally choked, covered with vines and debris, was the piece of armor on the top tier, standing as a former, glittering centerpiece. Ominously, the maze changed behind them, with all its creaking, snapping branches. They had made it by a hair.

The recruits, naturally, stepped closer to Draxum at the sound, with only Recruit finally going to Draxum’s side. He hoped she was getting over the earlier incident. Much like in the Botanical Garden, he gestured to the armor piece with a nod of approval. He just saw the twinge of a smile or something similar on her face before she lept on top of the fountain, snatching the piece from its resting place.

They returned to the entrance and, just as quickly, back safely to New York. One recruit did as he said and quit, leaving his gi and alliance at the door. Jocelynn and the other two lingered around the lair before heading to their respective homes. Recruit promptly handed the armor piece to Draxum, lowering her mask.

“About…earlier, I swear to never show weakness like that again,” Recruit stated. “I’m not a child. What I saw-”

“Is of no importance. It wasn’t real,” Draxum cut in. “I don’t need to know. However, what I do know is that you are capable of handling things like this and even greater. Unlike the other recruits, you snapped back quicker from the experience.”

Recruit straightened up at the praise, whatever trace of nerves gone. Relief and pride replaced them. She nodded her head. “Thank you, Draxum.”

He nodded in return. “Go rest, Recruit. I have things from here.”

Draxum turned to face the armor, walking up the stairs. The armor piece seemed to grow warm in his hand as it grew closer to its proper place and home, nearly snapping from his hand to join the rest. Now he could relax, albeit momentarily, and let himself think about what had happened in the maze.

The first time he stepped foot in there was on a dare from Big Mama before she was Big Mama and back during the brief few decades they actually liked each other. He dared her back, and neither made it far. He couldn’t even remember what the maze’s sole inhabitant had taken the form of, just that it frightened the both of them, probably a dead relative back when the concept of death was still new and frightening. The second was a few centuries after yokai had been forced down below, and he was desperate to see faces long since passed. The forms the spirit took weren’t what he expected, instead finding twisted death masks of the dead pleading with him. Like the first time, he didn’t make to the center, nor did he even plan to. The last time had been thirteen years ago and for the same reasons as the second. A last-ditch, desperate plea to see Lou’s face again, even if it was contorted by anger and rage. He only stayed long enough to see that and then he turned and left.

All the forms were were last memories of those departed and those long since dead - or in Lou’s case, presumed dead. A clever ploy to frighten maze-goers into leaving or confronting some twisted idea of mortality. Draxum thought he understood it, the mechanisms of the spirit and the maze, just like he did with alchemy or battle.

What he couldn’t understand is why the spirit became his mirror image, without a flaw marring the surface. And that was what frightened him.

#rottmnt #baron draxum #foot recruit

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jawnjendes · 5 years

Text

mystery | shawn mendes

oof its been a while since ive written anything.

university au, shawn x goth gf

~2k words

masterlist | series playlist

“You're really mysterious, you know that?” Shawn smiled as he placed his hand on the shoulder of my driver's seat.

It was only endearing because it came from him, my boyfriend of 2 months. Anyone else who pointed out my reserved nature was blacklisted in my mind. Apparently it's borderline offensive to not want to delve into personal details about your life.

I've always been a listener. An observer. An introvert. I guess I looked that way too from the lack of color in my wardrobe. How would I end up with someone like Shawn, right?

He had a lot to talk about. He had a lot going on in his life. From family, to work, to music, to university. He was not one to shy away from basic human interaction. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about things he was passionate about won me over. He had ambitions and goals and killer abs. So I decided to keep him around. I wasn't sure why he kept me around.

Shawn said he liked my silence. To him, it was something like a chase, and the moments where I did open up to him are worth it. Of course, he liked to poke fun at me and call me a hermit, but he's cute and my boyfriend, so I allowed it.

“It's kinda what you get for having a goth gf,” I responded meekly.

We had been driving around all night long. Shawn had asked if I was having fun, to which I replied a simple “yes.” A lack of run on sentences is what made Shawn compelled to say the thing I'm told everyday of my life. Maybe he thought I was supposed to be less tense now that some time had passed between us.

Where's that photo of Bruce Banner when you need it?

“Hey, I like this goth mystery you got going on,” he told me. “Makes me wanna turn goth too.”

I chuckled. “You're too much of an open book, my dear.”

“Seriously, though. We need to get deep.”

If this was a cartoon, my eyes would have widened out of their sockets and my heart would have pounded out of my chest. I mean I felt the effect, but as always, it was internal.

“Deep how?” I asked. “Like, you wanna share childhood traumas or something?”

“Yes, that's perfect!” Shawn sounded less sarcastic and more serious. “Just share whatever you want with the class.”

“You say that like I'm hiding something.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of an intersection. Shawn didn't say anything for a hot minute, which made me look at him.

“No, I don't think that,” he finally said. “I just need to know if you're still into this.”

What the fuck is happening? What is he trying to do?

“Well, yeah,” I told him. “We're here. On a date. Heading to your place right now.”

Shawn nodded. “You're not wrong. But what I mean is… you don't really talk a lot.”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Hey, I told you the riveting tale of my wisdom tooth removal.”

“Babe. You know what I mean. I don't know that much about your family, or where you come from. Past relationships, your friends back home.”

Haven't dated a guy who's an overthinker. Haven't dated a guy who actually wanted to know these things.

I'm just really shit at talking. And I have what my therapist calls a “wall” up.

I hesitated, watching the street light turn green. “Any other concerns?”

Shawn cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. His tone softened a little bit. “Do you still like me?”

“Of course I do. I mean, you'll definitely know that when we get to yours.” Dear god, please let that suffice.

It sufficed. Shawn was happy, for the night at least.

I felt happy too, I was just internally shoving it all into a bottle. Waking up next to Shawn made my cold, mysterious heart swell so much I thought I was going to puke up butterflies and glitter. No one needed to know that, though. I already spent the night with him.

We were still spooning by the time Shawn woke up. Even in his sleep he had a firm hold on me, so I couldn't plan an impulsive escape. Yeah, I wanted to escape.

He kissed my neck, but it didn't have the same affect it did last night. I just had my eyes hyper focused on my phone that was on the nightstand. This was a rare time I wanted someone to call me due to an emergency. Get me the fuck out of here.

“I have to go,” I said, my clear voice breaking the warm, hazy silence.

“No, stay,” Shawn mumbled, hugging my waist a little tighter.

“I have a work thing.” Not a lie, but it sure felt like one. Last night I planned to ditch the mandatory work luncheon. Thank god I didn't mention that plan out loud.

Luckily, Shawn knew how seriously I took my glamorous office job, so he let me go and rolled onto his back. I didn't look at him as I climbed out of bed and grabbed my clothes. Once I was in my shirt and underwear, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I had a new text from my manager, Stacy.

“Hey, sorry to be so last minute, but the luncheon had been moved to the same time tomorrow. See you then!”

Okay, now I was lying. Fuck.

“You have fun last night?” asked Shawn from the bed.

The sound of his sleepy, euphoric voice sent a chill down my spine. He really knows what he's doing, which is why I had to get out of here. Fool me once.

“Yeah,” I said shortly as I bent over to get my pants.

When I was fully dressed, I felt a pit in my stomach. I didn't really want to leave, but I already knew how this was going to play out. I didn't want this sick cycle to repeat itself again. I needed something to send me off.

I turned towards the bed and leaned down onto the mattress, now looking at Shawn. He was dozing off again, but awoke at my movements. He sat up on his elbow, smiling at me.

“You sure you don't wanna stay?” he offered.

“Can't skip work,” I replied. Then, I leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. I hadn't been so intoxicated since-

“Mm, text me, okay?” Shawn asked, to which I loosely promised.

As soon as I was in the car again, I pieced it together. How convenient was it that Shawn wanted emotional reassurance as we headed back to his place. Of course he played up being sensitive and wanting me to be open. He knew I wouldn't use words, so he made me think I was in control. In reality, I was being played like a Nintendo Switch. Of course he wanted me to text him. It was so he could have an excuse not to do it himself. Oh my god I got fucking played.

The only thing I knew what to do was to keep myself busy and away from my phone. If anyone could play the Silent Game, it was me. I was the ruling champion. I wasn't going to crack, no matter how much I wanted to.

Here I thought I had someone different. Someone actually nice. But jeez, men really are the worst. How many more times was this going to happen to me?

My fears were even more confirmed as the silence stretched into the night. I found myself going to bed alone and quite sad. At least last time I got played, I knew what I was getting into. Shame on me for thinking Shawn would be different.

But I was stronger now, and I knew better now. It was time to get a move on.

“You know,” I said, rubbing my hands together the way that I usually on these days, “it's one thing to use me and kick me to the curb. But he really thinks he can come back for for seconds. How arrogant and heartless must he be?”

I had spent the last thirty minutes getting my therapist, Callie, up to speed. I hadn't seen her in just over a month, so I told her about my night with Shawn and the silence that followed the last three days. She was good with validating phrases like “he did not!” but that was as far as it went.

“So he tried to contact you again?” Callie said as she wrote on her clipboard. “What did he say?”

It was embarrassing how quickly I had burned Shawn's text into my brain. Then again, I don't think I did that voluntarily.

“All he said was ‘hey I miss you.’” I folded my arms and rolled my eyes.

“Why do you seem upset by that?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't have one. “I… I wouldn't say upset…”

Callie nodded. “Okay, what word would you use? Disappointed? Disgruntled?”

“I don't know. When I saw the text, I just thought he wanted to hook up, and ignore me once again.”

She stopped writing for a second. “You know, from what you've told me about Shawn, he seems like the last person to want to hurt you like that. You told me you were in a relationship, right? It's not just a friends with benefits situation?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he asked me to be his girlfriend like, two months ago.”

“So where is this fear and distrust coming from?”

Fear. Distrust. Weariness. Tip toeing. No sudden moves just in case he changes his mind and doesn't tell me.

I sighed. “Luca.”

Callie already knew that, she just needed me to say it. “It came from your time with Luca. It was a very one sided and unhealthy relationship, so of course you would keep your guard up now. And since Shawn is the first person you've dated since Luca, it's a bit scary to make yourself vulnerable again.”

The words sank in for a minute. As soon as they were processed, I wanted to smack myself on the forehead. I'm a fucking idiot.

“Yeah…” The hand rubbing recommenced

“Have you told Shawn about Luca? Are you at that place where you can share those things?”

I shook my head. “No. I don't, I don't want him to think I'm hung up on someone, especially someone like Luca.”

“Yes, I see your point. However, I do think it would be good for Shawn to know why you're so-”

“Mysterious. He says that a lot. Everyone says that a lot.”

Callie smiled. “I was going to say closed off. It's important to share past experiences when you're ready.”

“I know he wants to know things about me, but I think my quiet self makes him think it's a game or something. It's fun for him. I think if I let him in and bare my soul he'll either get bored or freak out because I'm secretly crazy.”

“We don't say crazy,” Callie firmly reminded me.

“Anxious,” I corrected.

Being aware of your crap and overcoming your crap are 2 different things, as said by a wise lady on a hospital drama. I already got the awareness down, now I just had to suck up my pride and stubbornness in order to dump myself on Shawn's doorstep.

A week had gone by without much talk between us. It's hard to find a balance between staying interested and being clingy. Just the thought of that made me shake myself like I had to reboot my brain. I detested clinginess. It's not a dealbreaker, because it's basically inevitable. It was just my least favorite part of a relationship. I know, if I had a heart, it would just be a black hole. I don't know why Shawn chose me.

I let him know ahead of time that I was coming over. As always, he was excited and looking forward to it. I had to remind myself that this was a good thing. We are overcoming the crap now.

Obviously, I was nervous by the time I had pulled up in front of Shawn's place. I knew how to hold it down and remain composed, though. Part of what he liked was trying to read my face. At this point, I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't see myself going away because of it. I had plenty of things to say, I just needed Shawn to hear it.

I expected him to be broody and passive aggressive over the weeklong silence. Shawn was all smiles. He brought me some water. Sat me on the couch and draped me in a blanket. Everything seemed like it always was these last 2 months. It was strange territory. A guy being genuine and giving me non sexual attention was different.

Unless-

NO. SHUT UP.

“So what have you been up to?” I asked Shawn. “Feel like I haven't seen you in centuries.”

He chuckled and recalled his week. Shawn was a busy man. Turns out, he was catching up on coursework and picking up extra shifts at his job. Meanwhile, I made him think I was doing the exact same thing. Why? I don't know, my therapy sessions are once every 2 weeks. There's still a lot to unpack.

“Oh! I got a gig at this bar on Friday,” he told me with a nudge to my arm. “You should come.”

I would have been picking at my nails had I not been holding a glass of water. “Yeah, absolutely. I love watching you perform.”

“Awesome. It's a date.”

Oh thank god, we're still dating.

Unless-

OH MY GOD. SHUT UP.

“So…” I started with a big sigh. “I go to therapy.”

Shawn quirked his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Good segue. Long pause. Fuck. “Uh… I wanted to tell you because, uh… y'know, I share everything with my shrink. Like, everything.”

“Everything, eh? Including me?” A cute, boyish smile was creeping on his cute, boyish face.

I nodded, putting my glass down on the coffee table. “I talked about how I practically fled after we spent the night together. I talked about why I did that.”

The tiny smile disappeared from Shawn's face. He hadn't forgotten about that. Perhaps he didn't like my great escape.

“Yeah, why did you leave?” he asked softly.

My heart ached at his tone. To think I was so irrationally angry at him a week ago.

“I thought you only wanted one thing from me,” I admitted.

Shawn looked confused. “Why would you think that? We've been going out for two months, I don't understand. Did I do something?”

“No,” I told him. “It was never you. I just…” Ugh, words. I shifted around and started rubbing my hands together. Soul baring time. “It's… hard for me to believe that someone would want me for more than just my body. So I jumped through a lot of mental hoops to make myself think you were a person with bad intentions…”

“Why would you want to believe I wouldn't be good to you, though?” he asked.

I looked down at my hands. This was far too many emotions for me to share and feel at once. But he still didn't understand.

“Because…” I mumbled. “The guy who came before you wasn't good to me.”

“Oh…”

Dam. Burst.

“It's not sad at all,” I said quickly, fumbling with my fingers. “It's not as bad as you think. I never actually dated the guy, but I liked him so much that I just let him use me and toy with my feelings. I did whatever I could to keep him close...”

Shawn's big hands went over mine, calming my sporadic movements. He had a certain look on his face. He was listening, but careful not to speak out of turn.

“He and I never talked about feelings or anything,” I continued. “That wasn't a problem at first, because I don't talk about those things. But I never knew where anything was going and he never took me seriously whenever I tried to establish something with him. He acted like I was insane for trying to communicate. He would also ignore me for weeks at a time, and act like we never did anything. It drove me so crazy. I am a little crazy now because of him.”

I didn't realize I broke eye contact until the silence stretched a little too far. I looked back up at Shawn, nerves spilling out on the floor. I felt like such a mess.

“I gotta say,” Shawn spoke, “I've never heard you talk this much before.”

For a split second, I wanted to pummel him. But he offered a smile and squeezed my hands. The air wasn't that tense or awkward.

“But seriously,” he continued, “that helped me understand you a little better. I had no idea someone hurt you. You really liked him, eh?”

“Let me put it this way,” I said. “We never dated. But when I had enough and decided to cut him off, it hurt like a break up. It messed me up for a little bit. Intensified my anxiety issues.”

“I can’t believe someone treated you like that. You just seem so strong and unbreakable all of the time.”

“Well now you know what's behind the mystery. A crazy, nervous wreck.”

“Never would have guessed you were the nervous type.” Shawn kissed my hand. “I'm sorry you went through that. I'm glad that guy is out of your life now.”

“Me too.” A stream of incoherent sounds were still building up in my throat. “I know I started the silent game, but we can't do that. We can't not talk to each other. I know I'm quiet, but it does more harm than good.”

Shawn smiled wide. “I am so down for basic communication. And just so you know, I didn’t want you to leave last week. I don’t ever want you to leave.”

My knee jerk reaction was to brush it off. Okay, sure. You don’t mean that. But I squeezed his hand, and let out more cheesy feelings.

“I don’t wanna leave either.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #mine #do i have a writing tag for this blog #probably not lulz

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bakudekuficlibrary · 5 years

Text

BakuDeku: Angst One Shots Part I

Click here for Part II & Part III!

84 Works.

Fallout by limesicle ( T | 2,505 | 1/1 )

Katsuki does everything the hard way. Falling in love isn't an exception.

It doesn't take him long to realize he's falling, but it takes him ten years to admit it to himself. It takes another ten before he says it out loud.

For the Future by limesicle ( T | 2,886 | 1/1 )

In which All Might doesn’t arrive in time. In which Katsuki watches his childhood friend fall by his own hand. In which he realizes too many things after he’s lost too much.

[Major Character Death | Suicidal Thoughts]

Words They Didn't Say by crushingblue ( G | 1,804 | 1/1 )

Bakugou doesn't know how to say enough. Deku is scared to say too much.

Series Part 1 of Future Feelings

Crossroads by atosei ( T | 1,493 | 1/1 )

“I already told you,” he said steadily, “I’m leaving for good. As of today, I’m resigning as a Pro Hero.” Bakugou laughed harshly. “You’ve got to be kidding me – you, resigning? Best joke I’ve heard in years.”

If you really knew Bakugou, you’d be able to hear the hint of fear he was trying to hide behind those cruel words. And if you really knew Midoriya, you’d be able to see in his eyes that he was dead serious. And they really did know each other that well, to that extent, to be able to pick up on the emotions that they’d tried so hard to lock away and it was then that something broke between them, something irreversible and Bakugou knew he couldn’t keep this up any longer.

Series Part 1 of Intersection

imbalance (he knocked the world from under your feet) by dovedapple ( G | 506 | 1/1 )

/ɪmˈbal(ə)ns/ noun the lack of proportion or relation between corresponding things.

Taraché by Funky Hanji (Temari) ( T | 4,571 | 1/1 )

- «Hey Bakugou. […] You ever been afraid of your quirk? It’s hella strong, I bet it was scary until you learned to control it…! » -

Choices by stardustacademia (cosmiclarents) ( T | 576 | 1/1 )

The only summary I can think of for this is what's in the tags, honestly. Angsty vague bakudeku w/ a splash of plot. Just a bit.

Series Part 1 of Drabbles With Potential

opia by Ramabear (RyMagnatar), timeto-explode (NoWayApril) ( T | 2,169 | 1/1 )

In an attempt to breach the wall put up between Bakugou and Midoriya, All Might and Aizawa try something a little unorthodox. The two teens are set down in chairs across from each other with the instruction to stay there and look into each other's eyes.

The strange vulnerability that follows spurs a confession that Bakugou isn't prepared for in the least.

Так бывает by Serpentaria ( G | 705 | 1/1 )

Так бывает, что ты не предназначен своей родственной душе.

Fearless by ukiinas ( G | 1,434 | 1/1 )

Izuku's fiery spirit and compassion were so dazzling that it blinded him; his strength and endurance were so captivating that it scorched him like an inextinguishable flame. They’d never come on equal terms as to even try and begin to understand one another, and perhaps Katsuki was to blame, but it was precisely due Izuku’s brilliance that he found it hard to approach him.

Series Part 1 of Fear, Pride, Denial

Tempo by ichikonohakko ( G | 2,081 | 1/1 )

He promised Katsuki the world.

But Deku was a villain. And no villain should be trusted.

--- Or in which Deku let himself slip up in a moment of weakness.

Series Part 7 of Villain!Deku AU

reconnect: extended version by Ramabear (RyMagnatar) ( T | 4,639 | 1/1 )

After a brief meeting at Yuuei, Izuku takes Katsuki back to his small apartment for conversation and dinner.

{ Curator’s Note: This work is tagged with “Exes”. }

Screaming never helps Screaming always helps Don't scream Do scream by inspectorwired ( T | 551 | 1/1 )

Don't look at me that way

Tears by frostyoctopus ( Not Rated | 436 | 1/1 )

lil one shot i made of kaachan/deku.... i rly like bnha haha. i dont read the manga OOPS so idk if these characterizations are 100% accurate... kaachan ponders the real reason why he hates deku so much but he cant pin-point the specific emotion he feels towards deku...

Make Every Moment Last by osakakitty ( E | 6,885 | 1/1 )

There are days where Izuku Midoriya wakes in a different world. It is usually a world very similar to his own, but with noticeable changes. The thing that changes the most is Katsuki Bakugo. Sometimes he's a friend, sometimes he's not, and sometimes he's something else entirely.

Canon-Divergent story where Midoriya has the uncontrollable ability to travel to parallel universes. He sleeps in one, and may wake up in another. By seeing through the eyes of many different 'Izuku Midoriya,' he learns things about himself and Bakugo.

Terrible Losses by AshREvans ( T | 1,339 | 1/1 )

rasm835g asked: Could you write a scenario describing Bakugou or midoriya having to react to the other one dying, and how their reactions would differ from one another

From my BNHA scenario blog https://myheroscenarios.tumblr.com/ Feel free to submit requests!!!

Series Part 4 of Multifandom Tumblr Requests Part 3 of BNHA Tumblr Requests

[Major Character Death]

Your sorrow, pouring out of your skin by tandum (nea_writes) ( T | 3,433 | 1/1 )

Izuku dies in Katsuki's arms, and he becomes intimately familiar with the long shadow of regret.

He's so full of regret he wishes he could vomit it out.

Every time he hurt Deku, every moment he rejected him, every single instance he made Deku's smile fade, haunts Katsuki.

What he should've said to Deku long ago, what he never said, what even in his dying moments he held back, he says now, to the only person who'll understand, and who will never forgive him.

Series Part 1 of Even though all I wanted to do was become strong like you

[Major Character Death]

blindness by umbrage ( M | 1,771 | 1/1 )

There's a fine line between love and hate, but Bakugou's willful lack of nuance proves both to be equally painful.

Here Comes a Thought by myraj ( T | 600 | 1/1 )

"Kacchan, I'm here"

Snap Out Of It by ReturnToZero ( Not Rated | 1,068 | 1/1 )

There was a time in his childhood where he had hopes and dreams of being the best, with the full support of those all around him. Everyone knew he could be a top hero, and he was just waiting on finding a suitable sidekick early on, to ensure they both would be top notch and tightly knit.

“Mom has the ability to pull small objects to herself, I might get that as my quirk!” the quiet voice muses, the joy of imagining his soon to be quirk filling his words with hope unlike any other.

“Still not as good as my quirk though! Cmon Izuchan, you have to do better than that if you wanna be my sidekick.”

Bakudeku Week Day 2: Cotton Candy / Childhood / Sloth

Series Part 2 of BakuDeku Week 2k17

Happy Birthday Deku! by LionellLim ( M | 3,566 | 1/1 )

15th of July was the day of our hero special day but can he celebrate it with his lover without getting interrupted with his work?

Series Part 4 of Katsudeku compilation of one shot

skin shouldn't look like that by HummusKing ( M | 3,007 | 1/1 )

“How about I cut you a deal! You’re a prideful kid right? How about I’ll stop if you get on your knees and beg.” Tomura took his hand off Midoriya’s face, the flesh blistering red as blood began to trickle down the boy’s cheeks. Midoriya’s eyes began to flutter, the pain causing him to slowly lose consciousness but he kept his gaze locked with Bakugou’s. Something in his emerald eyes had pleaded for him, maybe to tell him to give up and to get out, or maybe it was a plea for help – Bakugou didn’t know.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence (Torture & Blood)]

I'll Wait by ZoZoTheTaco ( T | 489 | 1/1 )

For BakuDeku week.

"I waved goodbye to you knowing that you'd come back home to me."

Katsuki falls apart waiting for Izuku to come back home. (inner-monologue style)

I was not born to drown by yabakuboi ( T | 2,645 | 1/1 )

One more night, Izuku thinks. He’ll stay with me one more night.

another old space odyssey by sorethroat ( T | 2,058 | 1/1 )

“Car-di-o-meg..aly,” Deku fumbles around the words. “I can’t see the moon with you.”

He stands there, Deku smiling tight like if he moves his tears will spill over, and they’re too young to laugh at the idea that the insurmountable obstacle in front of them is a heart that’s just too big.

Bakugou is an astronaut but he's forgotten why. Midoriya wants him to come home.

Lovesick by halcyonwhispers ( M | 2,652 | 1/1 )

Izuku must’ve felt sorry for him more than Katsuki first thought. There’s always some stupid penalty ‘date’ that’s supposed to make Katsuki feel better because Izuku’s made of fucking rainbows and stupid sunshine.

He couldn’t even let his fuck buddy feel like he’s been used.

"Care" by The_Simpatico_Writer (AjhayLee) ( G | 826 | 1/1 )

Your life was a movie Scene by scene You had your thoughts that he would soon be Your Teenage Dream And with your fire, you assumed he Would put it out But he couldn't

Come on and make your mind up Love ain't so hard to find ya When he was standing there Waiting for you to care

Waiting for you to care (3x) You thought he had landed All maxed out You let him fall and leave him stranded Without a doubt And you're here beggin' for a lover Well turn around because you missed it Oh you missed it Come on and make your mind up Love ain't so hard to find ya When he was standing there Waiting for you to care Waiting for you to care (3x) Look at yourself Is this really what you wanted Is this really what you wanted Look at yourself Look at what you started Waiting for you to care (3x) Come on and make your mind up Love ain't so hard to find ya When he was standing there Waiting for you to care

[Major Character Death]

Rose Knows by origami_soul ( Not Rated | 501 | 1/1 )

Bakugou meets a younger Deku in his dream.

[Bullying]

Aquiver by stardustacademia (cosmiclarents) ( Not Rated | 4,083 | 1/1 )

This is supposed to be their happily ever after.

Unfortunately, 'Happily Ever After' doesn't always guarantee unconditional satisfaction.

Radio Silence ( T | 1,634 | 1/1 )

When making a dangerous plan one must consider Murphy's law. For those who are unfamiliar, the law states, "anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." But there's a hidden side to this rule that comes into play when you least expect it, "If things are ok, expect them to get bad. And if they do, expect them to get worse."

[Graphic Depictions of Violence (Blood and Gore)]

Walls by chancellorxofxtrash (PhoebeMurdivine) ( T | 5,245 | 1/1 )

Official sources had announced, that the two students from UA’s Class 1-A, who had been missing for the past three days, had been recovered during a raid led by Heroes, with the participation of their classmates. There had been no official statement regarding the state the two students are in, but hospital sources had confirmed that they are alive, and their lives are not in danger.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence (Torture) | Psychological Torture]

syzygy by shousanki ( T | 2,151 | 1/1 )

The thought of being apart never even crossed Izuku's mind until it became a reality, and then a nightmare.

we run in antiparallel. ( T | 1,181 | 1/1 )

there are different ways in which a boy can be saved.

katsudeku week: day 2 - heroes/villains

Sleeping With Ghosts by lalazee ( M | 1,003 | 1/1 )

“I guess even heroes have to do their grocery shopping.” “Villains, too,” Katsuki said tightly. “Villains?” Deku blinked, gasping softly as he went to his tip toes and looked over the aisle divider. “Where? Shit, Kacchan, you’d better get on that!”

Written for KatsuDeku Week 2017, Day 2: Heroes/Villains.

the way you are is like a dream. ( T | 4,001 | 1/1 )

nothing makes sense in this world. especially bakugou katsuki.

bakudeku week: day 3 - fantasy (a different kind of au)

[Implied/Referenced Bullying]

I'm Sorry by Viciedy ( Not Rated | 1,074 | 1/1 )

Suicide. Late apologies. Lack of self-expression. Depression. What more is left?

Bakugou Katsuki sulking in his locked room with a cutter in his hand.

[Major Character Death | Suicide]

“if it could be you…” by holdingoutforahero ( E | 1,508 | 1/1 )

Loving Katsuki is something Izuku just does.

Only in My Memories. by aeyongdarling ( G | 1,703 | 1/1 )

He always sees him talking, sees him sending a message and always hear him muttering his usual things. But it seems he was always ignored, always talked over. As if he doesn't exist in other's lives.

Mentiroso Pierrot by Stasawe ( G | 2,663 | 1/1 )

"No tienes que soportarlo tú solo." Ser capaz de hacer sonreír a la gente era su mayor sueño. Izuku haría cualquier cosa con tal de conseguir ver a las personas felices. Por otro lado, Katsuki estuvo reprimiendo la libertad que le correspondía.

Count of Three by lalazee ( M | 1,522 | 1/1 )

“You asshole,” Bakugou said, numb fingers fumbling as he shucked off his gloves and threw them aside. “Save two dozen people and then do this? Not on your life.”

Quirkless Vigilante Deku AU.

Series Part 1 of Vigilante/Quirkless!Deku AU

[Graphic Depictions of Violence (Blood & Mild Gore)]

Deku please don't go... by miiba_chan (marichat_girl13) ( T | 531 | 1/1 )

Series Part 2 of Bakudeku oneshots!

[Suicide]

Bound to You by Magefeathers ( T | 5,751 | 1/1 )

There were a few moments of nothing but the static, and Izuku feared that maybe the demon had disconnected after all. But then the voice spoke again, and this time it was flat, listless, without any of the anger and fire Izuku had come to expect from it.

“I exist to destroy you, Midoriya Izuku,” he repeated. When he continued his voice was bitter, and almost sad. “I’m bound to you. I am going to steal your breath from you, because that’s the only way for me to be free. Sooner or later, one way or another, I will destroy you.”

there are listed buildings by semiautomatichearts ( M | 3,309 | 1/1 )

Katsuki first sees colors bloom when he is only three years old. It is timid Izuku, hiding behind the cover of his mother's leg who looks upon him with wide eyes, and Katsuki's world explodes in shades of greens and pinks and blues, and he is so startled, he begins to cry.

His life is then on defined in color, in shades his peers can't see, by the forlorn, timid stare in Izuku's eyes that always lets off more than he is willing to tell. There is a schism driven between himself and his fated other, and Katsuki strives to be better than fate, better than what is defined for him. He is more than the written pages of a book, to be cracked open and read by the gods.

He wonders if it is possible for colors to bloom for someone who will never love you back.

Healing Process by shewizzard ( M | 10,962 | 1/1 )

When an injury leaves Deku out of commission, Bakugou steps in to help the healing process. Between all of his friends feeding him up and Bakugou pushing him Midoriya ends up putting on some pounds.

Let the Petals Fall by limesicle ( T | 4,976 | 1/1 )

In a world where hanahaki emerged around the same time as quirks did, it's a disease that doesn't happen to many. But it does seem to run in families. Ever since Katsuki heard that his mother had it, he wondered if he'd get it, too. When the first signs occurred, he tried to fight it. But as the green flowers kept spilling from his lungs, it got harder to ignore.

In short, it's the katsudeku hanahaki AU that no one asked for.

Series Part 1 of Tiger Lilies and Crysanthemums

Our Dream by Purplemerald ( G | 1,176 | 1/1 )

"Izuku, what do you really want? Die never accomplishing your dreams? Or live and...?" Katsuki didn't continue but the words were already said.

Live and be with me.

[Major Character Death]

11 Miles by Dragonbooks249 ( T | 3,752 | 1/1 )

Is there something you want? Something you need? How far are you willing to go to get it? Bakugou Katsuki would go anywhere to get what he wants. What he needs.

[Major Character Death]

Близко by Explodocat ( G | 1,175 | 1/1 )

Сигареты. И вещи, озвучивать которые вовсе не обязательно.

Punishment by Purplemerald ( G | 1,314 | 1/1 )

"You who have done evil, you are a sinner, you do not deserve happiness, you will never forget your sin."

Deku..

I want to be your friend again..

But I'll never forget that I hurt you. Even if that pure smile is given to me, I can never forgive myself.

[Major Character Death]

Pained Lotus by VoidRune ( T | 1,732 | 1/1 )

Katsuki was still working out the toughest parts of understanding his boyfriend, of rediscovering the childhood friend he lost somewhere along the way. Most of the time, it wasn't expected, but endearing in ways he had simply never seen before.

At times, they just looped back into some old wounds.

Katsuki hated not knowing what to do, but he tries.

Series Part 1 of Lotus

Loving Him is Painful by ioooriiii15 ( Not Rated | 321 | 1/1 )

She's there whenever you're in pain.

She's there when the world turn its back to you.

Why did you let her go?

'Til Death Do Us Part by reijeux ( T | 2,448 | 1/1 )

Izuku is the world’s greatest hero. It doesn’t take long before Katsuki notices he’s changing; it doesn’t take long for Izuku to realize what’s happening to himself, either.

[Major Character Death]

Start At Ground Zero by lalazee ( T | 1,551 | 1/1 )

The longer Katsuki knew Deku, the more he realized how much he didn’t know.

Hospital scene, aftermath.

Series Part 2 of Vigilante/Quirkless!Deku AU

A Hero by Purplemerald ( G | 822 | 1/1 )

Trapped under a villain attack, Izuku could only scream his name as Katsuki makes his decision.

Chewed Up by warschach ( E | 30,693 | 1/1 )

Zombie apocalypse, more than a third of the population currently dead or in the state of undead, and Katsuki still somehow managed to get his shit stolen by two chicks and Freckle boy.

Fuck this new generation.

Scattered Anemones by gaytodoroki ( T | 3,582 | 1/1 )

"Fuck you for making me cough up a ton of shitty flowers," is what Bakugou might say to him, if he had the courage to actually confess and wasn't stuck panicking over his stupid crush.

[Panic Attacks]

we make homes out of people and we forget that they are bones and blood and stardust and all of them can perish as well. by moonblossoms ( G | 854 | 1/1 )

katsuki reflects on his life with and without izuku.

[Major Character Death]

silk by holdingoutforahero ( G | 669 | 1/1 )

Katsuki is anxious, Izuku can recognize that even from the slightest signs. He is going to snap any second and this time Izuku has to let it slide instead of letting out a weary sigh and a sharp “Kacchan”. Katsuki’s hand is slightly trembling as he ties the obi of his inner underrobe. Izuku steps closer to him and pulls the narrow belt out of his hands.

“Here, let me."

For the Flowers that Bloom Inside by limesicle ( T | 8,457 | 1/1 )

Hanahaki develops in approximately two out of a hundred people. The strength, the prognosis, and the outcome depend on the person afflicted and, of course, the person who made the disease present in the first place. Izuku has known these things for as long as he can remember–for as long as he’s seen his mother coughing petals. Two out of a hundred–and he would be one of them–like being quirkless wasn’t bad enough.

Izuku’s side of the story of the katsudeku hanahaki AU (you don’t need to read the other half first to understand it)

Series Part 2 of Tiger Lilies and Crysanthemums

A Classical Storm by oceanswrath ( T | 1,400 | 1/1 )

In that moment only the two of them existed, a force to be reckoned with greater than the storm raging outside.

i have seen every single one of your life milestones and i’m really glad i’m one of them. by moonblossoms ( G | 1,072 | 1/1 )

izuku reflects on the milestones he and katsuki have shared together aka i write a terrible fanfic at 3am and say the word milestones a lot.

[Major Character Death]

Odd Combinations by whatthefuckisupkyle ( M | 1,813 | 1/1 )

Katsuki called Izuku over to his house because he was just a mess at 3AM.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con | Implied/Referenced Self-Harm | Implied/Referenced Abuse]

{ Curator’s Note: None of the Rape & Abuse warned about above is between Katsuki and Izuku. It is from Bakugou explaining all the things that were wrong in the relationship he was in that he had just ended. }

Green Haze by reijeux ( T | 2,408 | 1/1 )

Denying his soulmate the first time brings a nightmarish consequence to Katsuki as he's forced to live through different lifetimes where he dreads the coming of Christmas.

[Major Character Death]

stained glass variation of truth by cheaperthantherapy ( T | 3,717 | 1/1 )

It has been six years.

Well, it has been six years, ten months and four days.

Twenty-Four by SharkbaitSekki ( T | 15,874 | 1/1 )

Izuku gets himself kidnapped, and Katsuki is dragged into it with him as they face villains with particularly terrifying illusion Quirks.

It ends up being a living nightmare, but Katsuki can't bring himself to regret following Izuku into it all. Because between the pain and the terror, between the lies and the illusions, between life and death, at least they can always hang onto one another. Even if everything else is fake, they know that they will always be real.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence (Torture)]

This is Grinder, not Christian Mingle... by Crandberrycrush ( E | 7,568 | 1/1 )

The quality of the video was horrible, fuzzy green hair was all he could see for the first few seconds, before a flushed and freckled smile much too close to the camera appeared, followed closely by a gratuitous amount of laughter.

“Kaaaaachaaannnn…. What are you doooooin’?”

The screen wobbled and refocused on the face, round cheeks glowing in the red and yellow lights of some unknown bar. Cheesy pop music cracked through his speakers - trash that Katsuki would never be caught dead listening to. Suddenly the image switched from Izuku’s face to the flat wooden surface of what Katsuki could only assume was the bar and ended. Fucking Deku.

Do you Regret it? by MadamBlue ( M | 1,331 | 1/1 )

A rescue mission goes horribly wrong

[Graphic Depictions of Violence (Blood and Gore)]

saltwater knives & saltwater lives by writedeku ( T | 1,580 | 1/1 )

Before.

(Before is a time Katsuki doesn't like to think of now. Before was before, now is now, but it does deserve reflection.)

Series Part 2 of the saltwater saga

[Bullying | Physical Abuse]

to know you by Anonymous ( T | 7,645 | 1/1 )

They were the Wonder Duo, the saviors of the innocent, and it took that reminder to get Izuku through yet another sleepless night.

defluo by managician ( T | 1,165 | 1/1 )

defluo: verb. to flow down, waste, disappear. “I probably should have thought about the consequences of selling my soul first.”

[Major Character Death]

Ожоги by Explodocat ( T | 3,356 | 1/1 )

После достижения четырнадцатилетия человек не может прикасаться ни к кому, кроме своего соулмейта, не вызывая ожоги.

I've Loved You Since Forever by BeanPasteMan ( G | 289 | 1/1 )

Katsuki and Izuku went on a mission together and Katsuki died. Izuku never got the chance to tell him how he felt before Katsuki passed away.

[Major Character Death]

Am I Ready? by Ryxmas ( G | 6,226 | 1/1 )

Even after one and a half years after his disappearance, Izuku never really stopped thinking about Katsuki. After all, Katsuki always had a habit of barging into your life, even if you never expected it.

Don't Phunk With My Heart by yamarik ( T | 7,972 | 1/1 )

Deku wakes up with a hangover in the worst possible place. Now he’s in fear for his life. Meanwhile, Kacchan just wants to return Deku’s train pass...

heaven in hiding by halcyonwhispers ( T | 8,827 | 1/1 )

After years of without contact, Izuku's suddenly thrown into playing seven minutes in heaven with Kacchan at a dumb house party he didn't even wanna go to.

He didn’t expect how things turned out.

Endless by chancellorxofxtrash (PhoebeMurdivine) ( T | 3,582 | 1/1 )

It’s been six months since the pro hero Ground Zero’s last stand, and Izuku was determined to make things right.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Major Character Death]

One More Time, One More Chance by limesicle ( T | 3,256 | 1/1 )

Katsuki knows he’s made mistakes–some worse than others–but none as bad as letting Izuku walk into that fight alone.

Series Part 2 of Spring BakuDeku Week 2018

let our proud fossils prove who we were by shousanki ( T | 2,622 | 1/1 )

Katsuki does not die. He does not kind-of propose to Izuku while in the throes of near-death delirium either. And they are not talking.

Series Part 2 of 青春ノンストップーSpring Bakudeku Week 2018ー

Lie by chancellorxofxtrash (PhoebeMurdivine) ( T | 1,883 | 1/1 )

The timer on their wrists, written with black numbers were different for everyone, constantly counting back the seconds. Everyone knew that the moment you first touch your soulmate, the timer on both of your arms will reach zero.

The timers on the arms of Izuku and Katsuki kept counting backwards.

Lost, but lost together by Tsulivy ( T | 1,660 | 1/1 )

"Kacchan... It's too late... It's already spreading, I can feel that I'm losing my last grip on whatever's left of my sanity," Deku said weakly to Katsuki, who was holding him in his arms, silently shaking trying to comfort the other. "you need to leave... Before I go after you, I don't want you to be lost, too."

"Shut the hell up," Katsuki said out of breath because of an upcoming panic attack. "I'm thinking, let me fucking think for one goddamn second, we'll figure it out."

"Kacchan..."

[Major Character Death]

Meeting Again by Dana91 ( G | 1,141 | 1/1 )

Bakugo never thought he would see him again. Not there. Not at the Hero License Exam. But most of all, what the hell was quirkless Deku doing with Shiketsu uniform?

Series Part 1 of Shiketsu AU

The Me you don't know by Dana91 ( T | 1,391 | 1/1 )

Sequel to "Meeting Again", same AU.

Just a really emotionally constipated Bakugo and a new "Deku" he is not familiar with. Someone should switch off those emotions for him anyway.

Series Part 2 of Shiketsu AU

Love That's Left Behind by ploThief ( T | 1,439 | 1/1 )

The trio flinch when they hear the tale-tell guttural moan of hungry zombies. Two new zombies have heard the commotion. One looks savage, face twisted forever in an angry scowl. The other is plainer, moving with a slight limp. The two are bloodied and dirty, but in much better condition than most zombies they cross. Newly turned, Ochaco’s mind supplies. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

[Major Character Death]

Into the Night by MadamBlue ( M | 1,721 | 1/1 )

He takes a step.

The world doesn't need me.

Another step.

I'm useless.

He braces himself on the low wall.

I can't control my quirk.

In one swift movement, he scales the wall and stands tall, looking out into the night one last time. In a strange way, he felt at peace. The day was already cold and calm, just how he wanted to feel.

I can't protect anyone.

Izuku takes one final breath and closes his eyes, his foot outstretched to take the final plunge.

[Suicide Attempt]

Being Alive is the Most Comforting Thing We Have by Mrs_AgustD ( M | 1,135 | 1/1 )

“'Suki, please no” The typically violent tempered blond freezes all movement, just like the blood in his veins freeze. 'Suki 'Suki 'Suki The word echoes and bounces around the inside of his skull, and he feels bile rise up his throat and he panics. Only one person calls him 'Suki, but he’s dead, he is so very dead.

[Anxiety Attacks | Mentions of Self-Harm]

#BakuDeku #KatsuDeku #BNHA #bkdkfl masterlist #masterlist #w:os #ws:complete #g:angst #w:mcd #t:s #w:violence #t:bullying #t:panic #w:rape #t:abuse #t:sh #curator ellie

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namedconquer · 6 years

Text

OF BEAUTY

DIARY ENTRY: 01/08/2017

Beauty is a social construct!

It has been constructed to best serve white supremacist, patriarchal, capitalist systems, with an agenda to deliberately exclude anyone and anything that does not package perfectly for profit – depending on the market. These markets could be different contexts, a few years back it was about being supermodel thin, now we could say it is about being “stripper thick” We could even consider the different markers of beauty in cultures around the world, some value eyes, hips, many value skin tone…The complexity and cruelty of capitalism, with its siblings patriarchy and white supremacy, is that this construction is fluid – it flexes through time and place, morphing and moulding, changing shape, but always serving an evil agenda. Once you understand that beauty is constructed by those in power, you become aware of your own power to construct beauty in a way that best serves you. What I mean is not the clichéd affirmation of, “Beauty Comes from Within,” – because it doesn’t. There is nothing essential about beauty. I’m advocating for the everyday exercise of constructing a definition and standard of beauty that suits and serves you. Deciding that though your edges are not laid today, today’s definition of beauty becomes non-laid edges – and gotdamnit you’re beautiful! These deliberate decisions and definitions are an everyday, maybe even hourly exercise, because whilst you are constructing beauty for yourself, you must simultaneously deconstruct definitions that come against your standard. Theoretically, social constructions are not real, they are made up. They shouldn’t matter, but realistically, they have adverse effects on our being in this world. You get to work, edges not laid – gotdamnit you’re beautiful! And then, your white boss states that your afro is unkempt and unprofessional. You’ve got to churn, do the mental and spiritual work of deconstructing and reconstructing, deconstructing and reconstructing. Whew! If you ask me, being beautiful is exhausting – it’s a task that relies very little on the physical and external appearance, but weighs heavy on the mind and spirit.

It is a task that I have tried in the past year to fulfil, and found some success in the fact that I do not have a deep hatred for my dark skin. I understand that the exclusion of darker skinned people (whatever their race) are white supremacist ideals used to fuel conquest, colonialism and capitalism. I do not want to be complicit, even in the smallest way, of believing there’s something wrong with my skin, and feed into the rhetoric. That’s not to say self-hate doesn’t creep in now and then, between the churning of deconstructing and reconstructing, I may add a lightening filter to my Instagram selfie and then some days I just post. Beauty is an everyday exercise – an hourly exercise.

For me it has become an exercise of life and death. My body has deteriorated – I have lost so much weight. When I took a look at myself in the mirror after two weeks of hospital admission, I hated it. On top of that I had a bloody cold sore on my lips – I deemed myself ugly. Ugly infected with sickness is death. This fear of frailty goes way back, beyond the two-week hospital admission or the week admission last year. It goes back to a school photo of me in Grade 7 that surfaced whilst I was in Grade 8. In this photo, my dark skin looks pale – not light or ashy –but pale, without its glow. I’m smiling – I have a beautiful smile, but my face has lost its filling and firmness, and is struggling to sustain the smile. It seemed as though the smile would fall upon my protruding collar bone and that would be the end of me – shattered, a pile of tiny bones with barely any skin. My mother came across the photo once, hidden in a drawer under stacks of unnecessary things we put in drawers, and she said, “You shouldn’t show people this picture, otherwise they will know.” They will know what? That I was a sickly child, to put it lightly. From then I associated thinness with sickness and death, and at the time the photo was taken, I had heard with my own ears the doctor telling my grandmother, “if this doesn’t work she might not make it”. Lo and Behold I did. I made it to Grade 8, where a fellow pupil came across one of my grade 7 photos and remarked, “you looked so much better when you were thinner”. Sigh – beauty is a social construct.

Sometimes the constructions you form will be in alignment with white supremacist, patriarchal and capitalist standards – I am quite aware of my skinny privilege, I have a smug “never been a dress size over 8 in my life” pride I have to keep in check every so often. To an extent, I understand the reasoning behind why my fellow pupil leaned more towards thin than health. The world is very unjust to bodies above a certain size, and the assumption is that if you weigh above a certain number on the scale, you’re automatically unhealthy, unfit, undeserving of food or adequate seating and freedom of movement. These are all normalized assumptions - it’s not like we have written our BMIs on our foreheads (and even if we did we would still need to question the power behind that measure). In this context, the dilemma for me then becomes anxiety between the thing I see as death. and the big girl that will be socially excluded (and trust that social exclusion has as much intensity as death – do you exist if people deem you invisible?) Hence, another layer to what beauty is and must become, not only must you churn to construct and deconstruct – you must recognize where your definitions of beauty are in alignment with the socially constructed standards – find where that privilege intersects with someone’s oppression and then extend your constructions of beauty to include them. Think on how broaden definitions on beauty will help you grow, think on how inclusive definitions will help others grow.

What is it that is specifically growing? Some call it spirit / soul / self – the only thing I believe to be essential to a human being. Beauty is not from within, nor intelligence, nor any other attribute we’ve been shamed for falling short of, but the spirit / soul / self is – it’s an untainted and fragile part of our being. It needs the body to hold it, it needs thoughts to frame it and it needs emotions to manifest itself, and that is why we must be deliberate about what we construct around us and the world to build it up. Everything but the spirit / soul / self is constructed, learnt, conditioned, socialized. In my very vulnerable state of feeling ugly, I have come to define self-love as the deliberate exercise of activating and amplifying the spirit – that essential part within me. When possible I believe all thoughts, actions, emotions, must serve the growth of the spirit / the soul / the self to fulfil not just your body and mind but any spiritual or physical space you occupy. If you do not take deliberate action in constructing structures and definitions that prop your spirit up, it will be suffocated by all the emissions of capitalism. In the same way that capitalism is eroding the beauty of our Earth, you will find your spirit sinking deep in the waters of a melting ice cap.

Construct. Deconstruct. Churn!

Today, my beauty is health. It’s the fact that I haven’t had difficulty breathing, and that my cold sore is waning to the furthest corner of my lips. Understanding that today’s beauty is about recovery and patience, and less about my desirability in a world that often deliberately excludes me. Which reminds me of a Haitian saying, “Nou led, Nou la” translated “We’re ugly, but we are here.” I’m alive – I’m here! I’m regaining my health and though my edges aint laid…gotdamnit I’m beautiful!

KUNDAI CONQUER

#ART #HIV #BLOG #DIARY #diaryentry

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falsemerits · 3 years

Text

“I kept track of the violence done to Black people in my city, Toronto, and my country, Canada, as if it was being done to me, because it was, because it is, because that’s what Black people are facing in Canada and around the world, and I’d never been more aware of it.”

When Desmond tells of the violence that is happening to him metaphorically, through others who are experiencing it physically- All across Canada, I recognize this as truth. He is not being selfish in feeling that this violence is also done unto him, as it is for the person physically involved. It would be selfish to think that he could not relate, because that is not his problem in the moment. It would be selfish if because he lives in Toronto, and violence in British Columbia against Black people happens, that it has nothing to do with him. I will liken this to an experience of my own, and challenge others to think abstractly and connect the dots. September 11, 2001- A day of destruction, alleged terrorism, and global fear. I remember being in class when this happened, and my sixth grade teacher asked us to take a moment of silence for it and to discuss the event. This had nothing to do with Canada. I was not involved with these families that suffered, or the government that protected them. I was a little 10 year old girl, who only knew that if my dad, mom, uncle, aunt, or whoever I loved was in that tower that I would feel tragedy. To me, that is why I sympathized with this event. Because if something similar happened in my country, I would hope that others would share my same feelings.

Being metis, I share the same feelings that Desmond does for the violence Black people experience daily. Indigenous people are being profiled, and abused every day as well. Our causes are similar. I cannot attest that our origin stories are the exact same. I cannot say that one is more pressing than the other. All I know is that, if I can feel suffering for my ancestors, then I can share the same feelings with immigrants who were taken from their countries, forced into slavery, made to start their lives in North America, and to continue to be robbed of honour and respect every single day.

“A CBC News investigation that analyzed 461 fatal civilian encounters with police between 2000 - 2017 found that “70 percent of people who died struggled with mental health issues or substance abuse or both.” The combination of this violence with the police targeting of Black people makes Black people with mental health issues more likely to experience police violence. The CBC also found that, of the 461 deaths, “criminal charges were laid against 18 officers… With only two ending in convictions.”

To me, this is proof that our system of police and authority is grossly under trained and ill-prepared. Police are able to perform “wellness checks,” on civilians, but only when prompted by a person who has called and claimed that said person’s wellness is in question. Police feel that they do not have to assess, de-escalate, or consider external factors in an investigation, false or with merit. These are horrifyingly sad statistics, that I believe many people would just glaze over. The typical citizen doesn’t understand enough about mental health, to care about mental health. There is a culture of common socially acceptable misunderstanding, when mental health is in question. It is okay to not know. There are cues that one can detect about mental health, if given the chance. Crying, hyperventilating, excessive language, obvious frustration, resistance to identify, these are actually all signs that someone might be experiencing mental distress, or exacerbation of their pre-existing mental health condition. Police are here to enforce the protection of personal property and assets. Opting for violence against someone who is mentally unstable, Black, Hispanic, Indigenous, White, Asian any race is not the answer. Protect and serve. Protect lives of police, against usually unarmed unsuspecting vulnerable people, and serve to uphold the laws that help protect officers of wrongdoing. That is what that statement means nowadays. When officers use violence against people who have mental health problems, and do not question this as a possibility first, we see why this system fails 100 percent of the time.

“In my experience, the average white Canadian doesn’t know that British and French settlers enslaved Black and Indigenous people on these lands for two centuries, and simply shifted legislative tactics once they had abolished “legal” slavery. Those who do acknowledge slavery in Canada often add that it was “not as bad as in the States,” a nod to the white Canadian proverb used as a checkmate end to a conversation. No need to consider anti-blackness here. This idea that Canada’s racial injustices are not as bad as they could be- This notion of slavery lite, of racism lite, of what my friends calls “toy version of racism”- Is a very Canadian way of saying “remember what we could do to you if we wanted to.” Passive- aggressive racism is central to Canada’s national mythology and identity. White supremacy warns Black people against setting our own standards and pursuing dreams that stray too far from the global atmosphere of anti-blackness.”

My parents were never taught this, so they never had the opportunity to educate me. Years of public school didn’t ever teach me about slavery in Canada. Not even of slavery of Indigenous people. I remember being taught about the “trading,” and “successful negotiations” that would happen among settlers and my ancestors, sometimes after battles. Settlers considered themselves to be a type of saviour, to this land. Not once, were slaves given a voice in the education system that was taught when I was growing up. The reason for this, in my opinion, is that knowingly, this information directly contradicts the “hard work,” that British and French settlers did for Canada today. These settlers are the reason we even have an education system, the same system that blindfolds it’s students. That information would be detrimental to the foundation of Canada. This misleading information, this terrible kind of education is the reason why we have violence and racism in this country. This is why racialized groups are marginalized and oppressed. White Canadian citizens feel that they are the ones that are owed thank yous, and apologies. They are owed sympathy and rewards for “letting” immigrants take shelter in this great country.

“BLM-TO co-founders and their supporters marched into the 2017 parade close to the intersection of Yonge and College street where, a year earlier, they’d interrupted the festivities to call out Pride Toronto, the not-for-profit organization that runs the annual celebrations. This time the group’s signs read, “May we never again need to remind you that we, too, are queer,” and “May we never again need to remind you that WE built this” and that “we shut it down for ALL OF US.” I remember this as righteous, bold, inspirational and powerful- But not surprising.”

I wish I could have been there to agree with them. To rally beside them, and take honour in their pride. To me, this is a reminder that the society we live in today, no longer cares about history or where we came from. It no longer cares about the pain and suffering that was experienced, to get us to where we are today. When the executive of Pride misleading signed their list of demands when BLM-TO interrupted the parade and said the next day “What I did was move the parade forward,” I get that, however I felt distrust. I felt that having pride in your own dignity meant nothing, and that people are constantly misconstruing what this means. People mistake integrity, with entitlement. They confuse honour, with gratification. This was a great reminder that, where we come from, in all walks of life, our paths should never be forgotten. It should never be disrespected or looked down on. Everything that we go through, unjust or just, shapes, molds, and builds who we are today as a civilization and individuals.

“Canadians who do recognize historical injustice seem to understand it in this way:

Bad things happened.

Bad things stopped happening and equality was achieved.

The low social and political status held by Indigenous peoples is now wholly based on the choice to be corrupt, lazy, inefficient and unsuited to the modern world.”

Desmond quotes this excerpt from Chelsea Vowel’s novel “Indigenous Writes.” This three point bulletin explains exactly how most Canadians understand their country now. It highlights that things happened, and now there is a notion that those same things no longer happen. These days when government officials in Ottawa hold press conferences, or public meetings, they say “ We [I] would like to begin by acknowledging that the land on which we gather is the traditional unceded territory of the Algonquin Anishnaabeg People.” I am not disagreeing that they should not acknowledge it. However, I acknowledge that it is not enough, and never will be enough. Bad things happened to these people, and they get less than 2% of Canadian soil for reserves. Acknowledging that these lands once belonged, and still rightfully belong to these nations and tribes, only serves to coddle Canadians, and dismisses the conversations that many people are still fighting to have.

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sramirezvillage · 6 years

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Sara Ramirez receives Trailblazer Award (Speech Transcript)

This is a beautiful recognition and it means the world. Robyn Ochs, Faith Cheltenham, thank you from the bottom of my heart, for all that you’ve done to center the bisexual+ community and our histories, our needs and our beautiful stories. No trailblazer can trail blaze without standing on the shoulders of others who fought for our visibility. I thank you and all of the hardworking bisexual+ community leaders and activists and allies for empowering me to stand here before you tonight to receive this honor. At the same time, I must name the painful reality that while I am being honored for who I am and what I’ve done there’s so many LGBTQ institutions and spaces where I don’t feel safe, where I don’t feel recognized as a bisexual, pansexual, queer person of color. While my platform has given me important access, I am so blessed to have the many privileges that I do. Every time bisexual+ people are erased, every time I am erased, as a bisexual+, queer person of color in the movement spaces that are supposed to be my home, the pain can feel unbearable. If I’m going to be recognized, you must also recognize my community’s vulnerabilities and needs. Whether you are comfortable with labels or not, the fact is, the ability to be seen, to name our truth, to find community and build power around who we are is such a critical part of any political movement for true liberation.

Recently, at a conference focused on ending youth homelessness I had an experience that exemplifies this type of pain. I was in attendance as a representative of the board of directors for the organization hosting the event as well as to listen and learn. After one panel, I was sitting at a table when I was approached by a white gay identified woman who eagerly wanted to get a picture with me for her wife, I told her I wasn’t doing pictures at that time, we then talked. We started talking about the gay rights and gay pride work that she does and I am a curious person, so I asked questions, including questions about how people of color and bisexual+ people were integrated into the work, she seemed uncomfortable, after some more awkward exchanges, the conversation ended naturally and we went our separate ways. Hours later, the same woman tracked me down to say “I didn’t have my glasses on earlier, but now I do and you’re not who I thought you were.” And with that she walked away. “You’re not who I thought you were.” “You’re not who I thought you were.” I remembered those words so clearly, because this exchange is a microcosm of how I often feel as a bisexual, pansexual, queer woman of color in LGBTQ spaces. I am desired until I am inconvenient; I am useful until I am disruptive. This is the experience not just of celebrities or others with platforms but the entire bisexual, pansexual, fluid, non-monosexual, queer identified community, especially those of us whose lives intersect with multiple margins. Those of us who are immigrants, poor, brown, black, disabled, asylum seekers and bisexual, pansexual, fluid, queer, trans and or non-binary. When I thought about what to say here tonight, I considered asking folks in this room who identify as bisexual, pansexual, fluid or non-monosexual to identify themselves, so we could see one another, celebrate one another and maybe feel less alone. But the anticipation of almost no one standing up with me because so many of us don’t feel safe to, can’t, was too painful for me to risk. I have felt so vulnerable, so often.

No matter where I turn, there’s so few resources specifically for bisexual+ people generally, and especially bisexual+ people of color. We are suffering because we don’t have a community, we’re fractured, we’re isolated and this experience of not being seen or recognized or of being out right excluded with hostility, takes a toll. It’s part of why we see such negative health outcomes for bisexual+ people, it is being reported by the CDC that bisexual, pansexual, fluid individuals have the highest rates of suicidality and depression among our lgbtq community and the most recent study published in 2016 by [Heron Greenesmith BiNet USA, Bisexual Organizing Project, Bisexual Resource Center and MAP(Movement Advancement Project)] it is being documented yet again that over 50% of the lgbtq+ community identifies as bisexual, fluid, non-monosexual and yet we are often neglected and erased. There is rarely programming specific to our needs, rarely speakers, trainers and staff for bi+ and can lead bi+ specific work. But it is time for that to change. For us to see bi+ staff at large in LGBTQ institutions, to see brown and black bisexual+ people in top leadership positions. To have bi+ specific programming, to have clear, easy access to culturally competent bi+ resources when going to lgbtq organization websites, to see signs up in their lobby that explicitly celebrate bi+ people, to direct funding to the bisexual+ community’s needs, to have leaders whether they identify as bisexual+ or not. Naming our identities and sharing our stories. Our needs are not identical to the needs of gay and lesbian individuals and it’s okay. People who aren’t bisexual, pansexual or fluid will never understand what it means to be bisexual, pansexual or fluid. Please respect our human dignity despite your lack of ability to understand us. Please stop tokenizing bisexual, pansexual, fluid identified, cis gender, transgender, and or non-binary life experiences to further policies that don’t actually support our lives and experiences. Our stories and history are important and cannot be lost. Tonight I urge us all, to think about whether we have contributed to the erasure of bisexual+ people, whether we’ve thought to ourselves “mm bisexual, pansexual, fluid people are really just straight or really just gay” or any number of other insidious stereotypes. We can do so much together, if we take a step back and reflect on the fears that may drive our discomfort, the assumptions that may cause us to exclude, we all do this and we can all work to change. There is so much struggle right now, but we are also at a critical juncture where movements are building, we are calling out cultural normalization of sexual harassment, we are standing up and naming the importance of black lives, transgender lives, we are uniting on so many fronts and we need to unite here too. We need to honor our bisexual+ elders, fight for our bisexual+ youth and give space and voice to the entire bisexual+ community. I thank you again for this award and I thank you all for joining us here tonight.

I know that there are people in this room who don’t feel safe, or comfortable to openly identify as bisexual, pansexual or fluid. I want you to know that despite this, I see you, I was you, I am you, I love you and maybe in a couple of years we will feel safe enough to show ourselves and celebrate one another openly without fear. Thank you.

#sara ramirez #lgbt center nyc #bisexual #pansexual #lgbt #queer #speech transcript #2017

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