#very close historical friends we all know they were more than just friends

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

#eve text #elmike #stranger things #byler #only tagging byler because i feel like yall will like this take lol #tagging tagging tagging WHAT ARE EVERYONE ELSE'S THOUGHTS #god i can't believe i'm making a post about stranger things. this feels like poking a bear #i'm not particularly anti m*leven but like... they'd have to do something pretty special at this point for me to feel like it's viable #i'm seeing the bts of s5 and it's got me Having Thoughts #elmike friendship is something i am so passionate about #even before i ever liked byler (didn't ship at all until s4 even though i knew it was a thing before) i've felt this way about elmike #i always believed they were close friends at heart and needed to break up #the romance part of them felt very distinctly young and very much “he was a boy she was a girl” to me #and it hasn't deepened into anything more mature and i don't see how it could based on the current state of the writing... #the fact that lumax exists — a young relationship that is actively maturing and is healthy — makes that clear to me #and the “love confession” in s4 and how disingenuous and miserable it felt was just the nail in the coffin #also the fact that will (who is IN LOVE with mike) was instrumental in making it happen? ... uh... okay... interesting choice… #fucked up and reductive if they make it another queer unrequited love sacrifice for the sake of pushing the heterosexual agenda YUCK #so i really hope the speculation about a m*leven breakup is real!! i think it just makes sense for their characters but who knows #i don't believe in the notion of love at first sight or one true love and i think the writers don't too??? #love to me is an accumulation of experiences and we inevitably choose it at some point rather than fall into it... but idk #tv is so fixated on keeping couples together... sometimes it's just not reality guys especially with young people... LET IT GO... #like i said though i'm not 100% sold that they're going to give up their “golden couple” LMAO #stranger things hasn't historically subverted too many tropes if i'm being honest #anyway i seriously need this season to come out quickly... i'm so bored and getting my master's is crushing my soul #i need frivolity #ALSO btw i won't respond to hateful messages about this so please don't bother. it's not that serious. this is a netflix show

[alpaca-clouds]

Why the media CEOs will always learn the wrong lessons

Yesterday a friend and I talked about how the entire (AAA) game industrie looked at BG3 being as popular as it is and going: "Oh, we need to produce 100+ hour games, I guess! Those sell!" Which... obviously is not why it is popular. The game is not popular because it has 100+ hours of gameplay, but because it has engaging characters, that are well-acted and that work as good hooks for the players. Like, let's face it: The reason why I so far have sunken 160 hours into this game is, because I wanna spend time with these characters - and because I wanna give them their happy endings.

But the same has happened too, just a bit earlier this year, right? When Barbie broke the 1 billion and every Hollywood CEO went: "Oh, so the people want movies based on toy franchises! Got it!" To which the internet at large replied: "... How is that the lesson you learned from this?"

Well, let me explain to you, why this is the lesson they learn: It is because the CEOs and the boards of directors at large are not artists or even engaged with the medium they produce. They mostly are economists. And their dry little hearts do not understand stuff more complex than numbers and spread sheets.

That sounds evil, I know, but... It is sadly the truth. When they look at a successful movie/series/game/book/comic, they look at it as a product, not a piece of art or narrative. It is just a product that has very clear metrics.

To them Barbie is not a movie with interesting stylistic choices that stand out from the majority of high budget action blockbusters. It is a toy movie with mildly feminist themes.

Or Oppenheimer is not a movie to them with a strong visual language and good acting direction. No, it is a historical blockbuster.

And this is true for basically every form of media. I mean, books are actually a fairly good example. In my life I do remember the big book fads that happened. When Harry Potter was a success, there was at least a dozen other "magical school" book series being released. When Twilight was a big success there was suddenly an endless number of "teen girl falls in love with bad boy, who is [magical creature]" YA. When the Hunger Games was a success, there were hundreds of "YA dystopia" books. Meanwhile in adult reading, we had the big "next Game of Throne" fad.

Of course, the irony is, that within each of those fads there might have been one or two somewhat successful series - but never even one that came even close to whatever started the fad.

Or with movies, we have seen it, too. When Avengers broke the 1 billion (which up to this point only few movies did) the studios went: "Ooooooh, so we need shared universe film series" - and then all went to try and fail to create their own cinematic universe.

Because the people, who call the shots, are just immensely desinterested in the thing they are selling. They do not really care about the content. All they care about is having a supposedly easy avenue of selling it. Just as they do not care about the consumer. All they care about is that the consumer buys it. Why he buys it... Well, they do not care. They could not care less, in fact.

So, yeah, get ready for a 20 overproduced games with a bloated 100+ hours of empty gameplay, but without the engaging characters. And for like at least 15 more moves based on some toy franchise, that nobody actually cares about.

And then get ready for all the CEOs to do the surprised Pikachu face, when all of that ends up not financially successful.

Really, I read some interviews yesterday from some AAA-studio CEOs and their blatant shock and missing understanding on why BG3 works for so many people.

Because, yeah... capitalism does not appreciate art. Capitalism does not understand art. It only understands spread sheets.

#baldurs gate 3 #oppenheimer #barbie #barbie movie #hollywood #game industry #media #indie media #media criticism #anti capitalism #late stage capitalism

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

My nana at 9 years of age was dragged kicking and screaming to school. Her math teacher had been molesting her. She told her parents. They did nothing. Best part? Her father was the principal. So obviously that teacher learned he could get away with anything and started molesting the other girls, who then blamed my nana because...I dunno, little kid logic I guess. It was unlikely their parents were going to be any more helpful than my nana's and he knew it.

My great aunt at the age of 13 was forcibly kissed by a teacher in full view of several witnesses who then gave her shit for seducing an honourable man.

My mom at 12 years of age left her physically abusive father to live with her mother and stepfather, only for her stepfather to molest her. Her mother to this day refuses to believe it.

My best friend had a longterm close male friend who sexually assaulted her in her sleep. Their entire friend group as well as the youth counselor encouraged her to forgive him because it was obviously a misunderstanding and she'd been giving off mixed signals and he'd had a huge crush on her and he wasn't intending to hurt her! So she did forgive him, publicly. And he did it again. And again. And again. And then it was her fault because she kept hanging out with him. If she really didn't want him doing it, why didn't she just abandon her entire friend group? He also got emboldened and went on to sexually assault other girls, so eventually they all started talking and went to the school against him. The youth counselor admonished my friend for going forward against him.

My other best friend decided to be "open-minded" and dated a trans-identified male. He also sexually assaulted her multiple times in her sleep but he framed her as the abuser at their youth support group for not adequately validating his identity.

My stepfather molested me from the ages of 7 to 12 and when I reported him he was dating a new woman at the time. She didn't believe it. They're still together. I can only imagine the number of girls he's been given access to over the years (he didn't go to jail, or get convicted of sexual assault).

I was also sexually assaulted in my sleep at my friend's party once. That guy's friend said I "probably wanted it".

Went to group therapy. All the women there had very different stories, but one theme that kept cropping up: they weren't believed or they were blamed.

I read books about therapy sessions with other victims. And that theme kept up. Not believed or else blamed. One woman told her story, learning to gloss it over before being dismissed out of hand, for decades before a professional finally asked her to elaborate and put her in touch with a sexual assault crisis centre. Another thing that came up in those books: knowing how hard it was for victims to come forward, and all the discouragement from people in their lives, many women must take it to the grave.

But hey, it's fine. Men have it worse. I mean we all watched a rich abusive man successfully publicly humiliate his victim while everyone said he was the victim and she was the abuser. And actually it's super common for abusive men to claim to be the victim, and police and family believe it! And it can take multiple women to come forward against one man for anything to be done, and often even that's not enough. But never mind that, men have it worse. We know this because they so--no, no, don't pay attention to hospital records or homicides or child marriages, or--Men. Say. They. Have it worse! So they do. Everything a man says is truth. That's why you must believe whatever a man says and accept every observation he makes as objective. No, there's no irony here, no historical precedent, no global trend.

[writers-potion]

Hi, I am trying to write a homosexual book that takes place in the 20s. I am unsure where to start and how bad the 20s was for homosexuality so if you have any tips it would be appreciated. Thank you for reading.

Homosexuality in Historical Fiction

I'm going to answer this in two parts: (1) Tips for writing queer historical fiction, and (2) the 1920 gay culture.

Get Your Language Right

Vocabulary is key to capturing how homsexual people identified themselves and interacted with one another at the time. Consider:

The kind of language/code used at the time. For example, gay men in the 1950-60s would have spoken Polari to skirt UK’s strict anti-homosexuality laws. This might mean your characters say seemingly ridiculous things like, “Bona to vada your dolly old eek!” (good to see your nice face)

Authenticity vs. Sensitivity. We don’t need to perpetuate old slurs just because they were used “at the time”. Would the readers of today (your target audience) be accepting towards use of such language? 

Is it really necessary? Just like in the case of foreign languages and dialects, it may be better to just refer to the code/secret language being spoken rather than overdoing it in dialogue. Also, does your character identify themselves as a part of this community at all?

Balance Between Struggle and Hope

Often in historical LQBTQ+ fiction, if the conflict is badly written, the readers are just going to feel angry and frustrated. Because:

Even the likable, otherwise reasonable characters won't be able to accept homosexuality easily, often opposing it downright.

Homosexual characters may be confused, struggle with self-doubt and self-hatred (which can't be fun to read, obviously)

The norms of the time make any “resolution” rather disappointing (compared to modern times).

Your goal is to juggle between these strong negative emotions to convey the central message and let hope shine through. Linger too much on negativity and your novel will be dark, but treating these themes 'lightly' will make you sound shallow.

So, treat oppression just as you would write a physical antagonist. It's powerful and a possible life-threatening opposition to the Lead, but it has flaws, loopholes and needs time to regroup before it hits our Lead again with increased force.

+ General Tips

Beware of giving your characters hindsight. As a writer, we know what happened both before and after the time period the characters live through, but they don't! The characters not being able to predict what comes can be a good tragic element.

The word “homosexual” wasn’t coined until 1869, and didn’t become common parlance until the early 20th century. From at least the very early 17th till the mid-19th century, the most common term for women was “tribade,” referring to the act of tribadism (scissoring). Some people used the term “fricatrice.” In the 18th century, “lesbian” and “Sapphist” started to become more common terminology. Men were called sodomites and pederasts (a word which didn’t have the paedophilic connotation it does today). The word “homophile” was coined in 1924 and was most commonly used by gay men and lesbians in the 1950s and 1960s.

“Gay” didn’t take on the almost exclusive meaning of homosexual until the 1960s, and even then, it was still used in the old sense of “merry” more than a few times. Only in the 1970s did it finally emerge as the most popular, mainstream word.

Less suspicions were aroused by a lesbian couple living together for decades than a gay male couple. Many people assumed they were just two very close spinster friends, not that it was a Boston marriage. There were many more questions about why two men would want to live together.

To avoid the very real risk of jail, lobotomy, conversion “therapy,” or the loonybin, sometimes a gay and lesbian couple would enter a ménage à quatre. Though it appeared on the surface as though two straight couples lived in the same duplex or right next door, they were actually just lavender cover marriages. Some had children (through various means) and co-parented.

Photo booths were seen as a safe space where a same-sex couple could kiss, cuddle, and embrace without fear of arrest or public suspicion.

Some lesbian couples were able to adopt children as single women, in jurisdictions which permitted that. More daring couples underwent artificial insemination and then went abroad to give birth, coming home with “adopted babies.”

Similar to the handkerchief code in the BDSM community, some gay men signalled to one another with red neckties and green carnations. Parisienne lesbians signalled to one another with violets in their hair.

There’s a long history of gay bathhouses, dating back centuries. Since male homosexuality was illegal and severely punished, a bathhouse was among the few places it was safe to meet potential partners and engage in sexual activity. Even the very real fear of police raids didn’t deter patrons. Manhattan, Paris, and London were home to many famous (and luxurious) gay baths, but there were plenty of lesser-known ones in other cities.

While not everyone was lucky enough to have a lavender ménage à quatre, many people had individual lavender marriages. Sometimes the spouse knew s/he was serving as a cover, sometimes not.

There were also more “traditional” ménage à trois marriages, composed of the lavender couple plus the true same-sex partner all living together. Sometimes these arrangements were composed of a bisexual plus a partner of each sex.

People did NOT casually out themselves! They could only confide their secret to other confirmed friends of Dorothy and extremely radical allies who had proven they could be trusted and wouldn’t turn on them.

You don’t have to make your straight characters raging, violent homophobes, but it’s completely unrealistic and historically inaccurate to show them all immediately, unquestioningly, lovingly accepting their friends’ homosexuality if the secret comes out. They might agree to not let anyone else know, but the friendship would probably be over. Other people, a bit more open-minded, might eventually reconcile but never be able to completely shake the belief that their sexual orientation is unnatural, strange, or wrong. Some people might only come around after decades of estrangement and realising gays and lesbians are just like everyone else.

To avoid discovery, some lesbians called one another by male names in their letters. Some liked those nicknames so much they continued using them in real life.

1920 Gay Culture

The United States - The Roaring Twenties 

As the United States entered an era of unprecedented economic growth and prosperity in the years after World War I, cultural mores loosened and a new spirit of sexual freedom reigned.

Harlem’s famous drag balls were part of a flourishing, highly visible LGBTQ nightlife

"Pansy Craze”: gay, lesbian and transgender performers graced the stages of nightspots in cities

lesbian and gay characters were being featured in a slew of popular “pulp” novels, in songs and on Broadway stages (including the controversial 1926 play The Captive) and in Hollywood—at least prior to 1934, when the motion picture industry began enforcing censorship guidelines, known as the Hays Code. Heap cites Clara Bow’s 1932 film Call Her Savage, in which a short scene features a pair of “campy male entertainers” in a Greenwich Village-like nightspot. On the radio, songs including "Masculine Women, Feminine Men" and "Let’s All Be Fairies" were popular.

On a Friday night in February 1926, a crowd of some 1,500 packed the Renaissance Casino in New York City’s Harlem neighborhood for the 58th masquerade and civil ball of Hamilton Lodge.

Nearly half of those attending the event, reported the New York Age, appeared to be “men of the class generally known as ‘fairies,’ and many Bohemians from the Greenwich Village section who...in their gorgeous evening gowns, wigs and powdered faces were hard to distinguish from many of the women.”

The tradition of masquerade and civil balls, more commonly known as drag balls, had begun back in 1869 within Hamilton Lodge, a black fraternal organization in Harlem. By the mid-1920s, at the height of the Prohibition era, they were attracting as many as 7,000 people of various races and social classes—gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and straight alike.

London - Balls and Adverts

Like other large cities at the time, London was home to many drag balls and nightclubs where the gay community could express themselves. 

"Lady Austin's Camp Boys" (1933): At a private ballroom in Holland Park Avenue, west London, 60 men were arrested in a police raid after undercover officers had watched them dancing, kissing and having sex in make-up and women's clothes. But despite facing a lengthy prison term and disgrace, the organiser, "Lady Austin", told officers: "There is nothing wrong [in who we are]. You call us nancies and bum boys but before long our cult will be allowed in the country."

Other gay men found partners through personal advertisements, which could be an equally risky strategy. 

In 1920 the publisher of a magazine called the Link and three gay subscribers were each sentenced to two years of hard labor on charges of indecency and conspiring to corrupt public morals.

Some adverts even appeared in the national press, such as the Daily Express, although they were not quite so blatant. People would ask for 'chums' of their own sex and offer to take people on holiday.

One man responding to an advert in the Link wrote that he was "very fond of artistic surroundings, beautiful colours in furniture and curtains, and softly shaded lamps and all those beautiful things which appeal to the refined tastes of an artistic mind". He added: "All my love is for my own sex", and wrote that he longed to give his love "in the most intimate way".

Gay adverts often had references to Edward Carpenter, Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman, or would say 'I have an unusual temperament'.

Berlin - The Weimar Republic

The Weimar Republic, Germany’s first parliamentary democracy lasted from 1918 until 1933 and was a time of progressive cultural renaissance from cinema, theater and music, to sexual liberation and a flourishing LGBTQ scene.

Berlin was home to around 40 known queer bars, a number which had doubled by 1925. The cabaret bars and clubs like Eldorado were packed to the brim with lust, tassels, glitter and flamboyance.

Drag shows were the norm and stars like Marlene Dietrich (a Berlin-native) and Josephine Baker who were icons for the queer community, performed regularly in Berlin’s lavish halls.

Kiosks sold an array of well known queer publications like Die Hoffnung (The Hope), Blätter für Menschenrecht (Leaflets for Human Rights), Frauenliebe (Woman Love), and Das dritte Geschlecht (The Third Sex).

As homosexuality was still illegal, Berlin’s Tiergarten and other parks, Nollendorferplatz as well as train stations and the infamous octagonal public bathrooms

Underground spaces flourished.

Here's a list of books with an LGBTQ+ POV character, set at least partly in the 1920s:

Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix

Dead Dead Girls (Harlem Renaissance Mystery, #1)

In the Field

The Lady Adventurers Club

Last Call at the Nightingale (Nightingale Mysteries, #1)

A Good Year

The Last Nude

The Sleeping Car Porter

Once a Rogue (Roaring Twenties Magic, #2)

Slippery Creatures (The Will Darling Adventures, #1)

Crazy Pavements

References

https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20180212-polari-the-code-language-gay-men-used-to-survive

https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2004/jul/03/gayrights.world

https://www.history.com/news/gay-culture-roaring-twenties-prohibition

#writers block #writers and poets #writing #creative writing #writers on tumblr #creative writers #helping writers #poets and writers #writeblr #resources for writers #let's write #writerscommunity #writers #writer #write #female writers #writer things #how to write #author #write every day #write it #write anything #write up #write that down #writing advice #writing community #writing tips #writing inspiration #writing prompt #on writing

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for implying my sister’s a transphobe?

For context: i’m a nonbinary girl and at the time had recently broken up with my trans girlfriend of a year. I also have very different political stances than my sister, which historically makes me very frustrated (she’s a liberal so very into making sure people have rights but never acknowledging the structural problems that cause minority hatred/prejudice).

So my sister and i were playing a videogame together and having a great and fun time. We were switching the game and there was an add for Hogwarts Legacy on her home screen, which we both saw. I genuinely don’t remember who commented on it first. Either i said something like “ugh, please don’t get that godawful game” or she said something like “oh i wanna get/play this game”. Knowing me it was probably the former. A throwaway comment for sure. Either way, that started a little argument between us.

More context: my sister and i both grew up as avid potterheads. I was even more obsessed with it than her, as a lonely middle schooler with no friends, harry potter was my favorite avenue of escapism and basically my main coping method. Which is why i was so devastated when, in 2020, i found out about all the terf shit jkr had been posting and supporting. It felt like losing a close friend, and so it’s a subject around which i have a lot of pain thinking/talking about. But my sister (cishet) usually thinks I’m overreacting. She doesn’t support jkr’s rhetoric but doesn’t think that supporting her or her work monetarily is a bad thing whatsoever. Mainly she believes it simply won’t make a difference to her bottom line.

Anywho, we were arguing about Hogwarts Legacy and how i think that she shouldn’t give jkr any money regardless of how closely she was involved with the production, since she’s getting profit from it regardless. Sister brings up that she’s seen trans people who want to buy and play the game, and that i’m not the authority on the issue. I tell her that the people saying that are not the majority of the community, and that maybe she should listen to the person who’s actually trans and sitting right next to her. She disagrees, and i say “then just don’t call yourself an ally”. I don’t quite remember what she said, but the argument didn’t last long after that.

We continued playing whatever videogame, and then i excused myself to have dinner. When i came back k stopped by her room to share a fun fact, and she confronted me about how much it hurt her that i said she wasn’t an ally. She told me that she had put in real work by taking an intersectionality class in college, and by attending trans rights protests — all of which i’ve never done (mostly because of mental health issues i won’t get into). She was crying and upset, and i told her i was sorry for having that conversation at a bad time, and for how i phrased my thoughts, but that i didn’t take back what i said about her not being an ally and to say i was would be lying. I didn’t say much more because i saw how upset she was and didn’t think that was a good time to argue about my opinions - so we decided to talk about it later when she was calmer.

I still haven’t started that conversation because i haven’t decided if what i said was unnecessary and made me an asshole, or if what i said was justified and she needed to hear it. It’s been a few months now and we’re both back in college and living hours away from each other in different countries.

So, tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[berlingotesque]

What are your ships for Batim? :D

VERY GOOD QUESTION- I know my answer should be rather straightforward but I feel I have to put some context to my answers since they may seem contradictory/paradoxical otherwise, so bear with me-

Sammy x Norman : Well. I think that one was pretty obvious, anyone who's seen more than 3 of my posts knows that I'd die for these two. They're just so PERFECT for each other, from their complementary personalities to the fact that their relationship allows us to delve deeper into batim's historical and social context. Sammy and Norman have one of the few relationships that develop the most during the game's lore : Norman originally complains vehemently about Sammy's frenetic behavior, only to end up lamenting to Buddy and Dot how 'Sammy isn't the same anymore'. What's interesting about this statement is that he says it in relation to Sammy's strange behavior : clearly, the two men have grown close enough for Norman to differentiate Sammy's extravagant habits from his ink-influenced behavior.

Furthermore, Sammy is a very gray character morally, a perfectionist who is extremely socially maladjusted (surely due to the fact that he's coded on the spectrum and autism wasn't properly diagnosed at the time), naturally ostracizing him. For his part, Norman comes from a rural background (which surely earns him the animosity of the people at the studio, given the historical context and the fact that he could very well be poc) and also seems ill at ease socially : to me, it's fascinating to see two characters excluded from their peers because of differences they can't change (being autistic or poc and gay) getting closer to each other, to the point where Sammy, who is deeply misanthropic, naturally compliments Norman by describing him as very bright. To me, Norman is the perfect partner for Sammy : ready to apprehend him as he is, since he's completely free of social conventions, without taking any shits from him.

I think Sammy and Norman can really get the best out of each other, during a historical period when being different was strongly proscribed. I think I'd have trouble enjoying Batim as much without their dynamic at its heart (considering how narratively rich it is) : Norman is Henry's confidant, Sammy is Joey's, both remain morally gray deuteragonists fundamentally opposed to the ink machine, while remaining fascinated by its powers. And who wouldn't love a good old enemies to lovers ending tragically with the unwitting murder of one by the other ? After all, Norman's main flaw is that he's too curious for his own good, and it was Sammy who inevitably led him to his doom..

Allison x Tom : what more can I add. She's everything. He's just Tom. I've always been drawn to characters/ships with a vibe completely opposite to the vibe of the work they originally came from, and the 'turning poison into positivity' energy that Tom and Allison bring to Batim has always fascinated me. In a world as tragic as their own, I find it touching to see these two find beauty in all the ugliness and manage to ask themselves 'what if we were happy after all ?' It's really striking and brings a narrative richness to the work, since they directly mirror what failed with Sammy and Susie : Allison is perfect, but that was never what was at stake in Tom's eyes. Tom was looking for humanity, not perfection, and he managed to go beyond the image of the muse to discover a friend, unlike Sammy with Susie. They're literally Romeo and Juliet but, well... Not dead.

Joey x Henry/Henry x Linda : oh boy. These three... Let me get it straight right away : Henry and Linda are perfect for each other. She's exactly what he needs to be happy : she's present, patient. There's no denying that he loves her immensely. But Joey... oh Joey is undoubtedly Henry's soul mate. The subtlety is that Joey can't bring him the stable happiness Linda can : Joey tugs at him, pushes him over the edge. He knows exactly what to do to push him beyond his own limits. The love Joey offers Henry is an uncomfortable but unconditional one, one that would allow Henry to go beyond what he thinks he's capable of achieving because no one knows Henry better than Joey ! And let's be honest, Batim only exists because Joey refuses to move on, to live his dream without Henry in it. He's stuck in unrequited love and refuses to learn to live with it. And that's the tragedy of this trio : Henry sincerely loves Linda but is truly himself with Joey, which prevents him from hating OR loving him (And Joey exploits this information by remaining extremely toxic and convincing himself that he can wear him down lmao). Henry is stuck with this dilemma : Existing peacefully with Linda or living painfully with Joey. And that's why I love the dynamic of this love triangle : because there are no solutions that will satisfy everyone.

Joey x Sammy : okay, don’t get me wrong : these two are HORRIBLE for each other. Does Sammy periodically want to quit just to piss Joey off? Yes. Isn't Joey's fascination with Sammy intimately tied to his refusal to forget Henry, who was a genius like Sammy? Yes. Nevertheless, it's impossible for me to read The Illusion of Living without feeling embarrassed and like I'm reading Joey's diary : whether you ship them or not, Joey is practically canonically smitten with Sammy. I sincerely don't think Joey and Sammy can sustain a healthy relationship with each other, but oh boy, surely that won't stop me from exploiting their bizarre obsessive love-hate relationship, where it's hard to determine whether they're going to throw hands or make out.

#oh god the normmy one I’M SO SORRY ANONS #I just love this ship so much I got carried away #anyway that’s just my own personal analysis #which are sometimes a bit far-fetched I admit #BUT STILL it’s so fun to over analyze batim when you know the creators really don’t give a shit about their own lore lmao #thank you so much for the asks anons :)) #I hope my answer has enlightened you #sammy lawrence #norman polk #normmy #allison pendle #thomas connor #thomson #joey drew #henry stein #linda stein #creatorship #how do you call Sammy x Joey ?? #jammy ? or is that the name for Sammy x Jack ? #god i dont know #susie campbell #(mentioned) #samsie #(derogatory) #batim #batdr #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #ask response #berlingot’s asks

[aipilosse]

Now I am really really curious and want to know more about your theory of C&C and M&M not being close anymore in Beleriand and why you don't buy their super duper close relationship. I noticed that as well as the fact that C&C are the feanorians often linked not just to Aredhel but to the three Arafinweans, especially Orodreth and Angrod who in the many versions are actually close to C&C which honestly is pretty interesting and such cool thing.

oooh yeah sure, I'll talk about this! This is more contrarian headcanon-not-contradicted-by-canon than anything I came to organically, but it's now become my preferred way of thinking about them.

Anyway, first, I will clarify that my theory is not Celegorm & Curufin and Maedhros & Maglor not being close in Beleriand; it is that they were NEVER close, even in Aman. We know from the story that Fëanor's sons were fiercely devoted to him, but it's never said that they were especially close with each other. And with a father who was likely demanding, played clear favorites, and had piles of charisma, I could easily see the brothers' relationships being marked by jealousy and simmering resentment, but not in an 'every brother for himself' way. It seems M&M have a strong relationship and C&C do too. Caranthir is the odd one out where it seems like none of his brothers are too attached, and honestly there's so little about Amras & Amrod but from what's there they form another obvious pair. But yeah, C&C definitely have a lot connections to the rest of the family! And it seems like those friendships were created before the Darkening and the Flight, and then renewed after Maedhros' rescue.

After Fëanor's death, Maedhros leads his brothers, but here I don't think that's because of any especial familial love or 'big brother Maedhros protective power uwu', and more because as Princes of the Noldor descended from Fëanor they are a *political* unit.

Sidebar: I think the 'family' part of the family politics of the House of Finwë is super overemphasized and the 'politics' part languishes. Like, Maedhros' brothers owe some sort of political allegiance to him (I'd say fealty... but I feel like someone with more historical knowledge will jump out of the woodwork and 'well ackshually' me) -- they are not a normal modern family!!

Now, I think the common fandom interpretation of suffocatingly close and devoted sons of Fëanor is a reasonable conclusion to reach from reading 'Of the Return of the Noldor' and I don't think my 'brothers at odds' theory is more canon; it's more that I don't think close and devoted take is the only reasonable conclusion. I have in fact seen people discard an obvious interpretation of events off hand because of the fact that all of the sons of Fëanor were soooo obviously devoted to each other, any time they didn't seek each other out there must be *something* preventing them from joining their brothers.

I really must disagree -- while C&C seem very close as do M&M, I think it's just as likely that when they're all together they're an acrimonious bitter mess, and that Maedhros staked out lands for them out east not just to keep the peace with Fingolfin & Finrod, but also to reduce fighting between his brothers. Also, them being an acrimonious bitter mess together does not mean they aren't charming, fun even, apart. Finrod is friends with all three pairs (sorry Caranthir); there's the other aforementioned C&C Arafinwean friendships and Aredhel friendship; Maedhros is friends with Fingolfin and Fingon. They even form alliances with non-elves apart, with Curufin befriending some dwarvish groups independently, and different brothers forming different mannish alliances. And I haven't even mentioned Amrod & Amras and the green elves. This all points to the brothers being reasonable, personable people when separated, capable of forming friendships and political alliances both, and perhaps to some degree hating each other's guts when together.

Food for thought! I welcome any and all enjoyers of my 'the sons of Fëanor would rather not be in a room together ever again' theory.

#they hate each other your honor #and C&C would rather hang out with their many friends than their other brothers #which tbh is very normal #and doesn't mean they hate each other #I just think it's more fun if they dislike each other #maedhros #curufin #celegorm #sons of feanor #eh fine I'll tag them all #maglor #caranthir #amros #amrod

[buckets-and-trees]

Congrats again on 300 my love ❤️❤️ so you may already know which AU I’m going to be requesting, because it’s my favourite story of yours (so far) and that is Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree!! This story made my heart ache and if you have the inspiration for it I’d love love love to see more!! I don’t want to restrict your imagination by being too specific, but literally anything with those two and I would die of happiness 💙💙

Em, I squealed when you dropped this into my box for the request fest! Partly because I adore you. Partly because you know I also really adore Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree. And partly I squealed out of terror because...I was worried I wouldn't be able to do any kind of follow up to this fic justice. But I took a deep breath and let that go and decided to just let whatever happen happen. I was also a little worried because when I wrote Cedar Tree, it felt very finished, so I didn't have any leftover thoughts to pick up and play around with, so I literally took that first week to just think about them and their story. And then... a lot of scenes started to emerge - stuff before and after Cedar Tree, stuff that was just them, stuff with the people around them.

This is where I landed for now. It's not the same as Cedar Tree - first thing being that it's told from Steve's perspective instead of the reader's - but I'm thinking it will make sense in their overall narrative.

This it the end of their honeymoon, a few weeks before Cedar Tree.

Fandom: MCU Title: The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x female!Queen!Reader, brief Sam and Bucky Word Count: 1.2k Summary: The final night and morning of King Steven's royal honeymoon.

Content Warnings: brief sexual relations (p in v)

Additional Notes: The third offering to celebrate 300 followers with the request fest! While this depicts events before Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree, it does not stand alone and should be read AFTER reading the original piece. Song title inspiration from Better Love by Hozier, which is one of the songs on my original Cedar Tree writing playlist. A/N 2: This still is pretty arbitrary, but although I knew the original was a historical royal AU setting, I basically closed my eyes and pointed when I ended up saying it was medieval. I debated between medieval or Georgian/regency vibe, but NOW it's decidedly Georgian, which will be more relevant if/as I share more of their story in the future.

It’s as he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling, that Steve realizes he’s already deciphered the difference between how it sounds when you’re asleep, when you’re awake, and when you’re somewhere in between. He didn’t expect that.

He expected a lot of things after taking you as his queen, but there were so many small things that make sense, but he simply hadn’t thought of, like this – knowing so quickly the sounds of your breathing.

Ten days and in some ways he knew so much more about you than he knew about anyone else but himself – more than he’d known about his parents, than Bucky whom he’d grown up with and trusted else as his closest friend and advisor, more than his general Sam who he trusted with the security of his kingdom and his own life.

The betrothal, the brief period of engagement, the wedding, and the wedding feast had all been very public and formal. The moment the two of you had entered the royal carriage to make the journey to his small palace in the lake country for the honeymoon, everything was suddenly private and intimate. It was the first time Steve had truly been alone with you, and the first moments alone would have been awkward – he certainly hadn’t thought about that moment until suddenly the two of you were there alone – but you had clearly thought of the circumstance in advance and had been prepared to make easy conversation. While the first few minutes had been an effort to make conversation, they swiftly did progress to easy conversation. The topics had been largely trivial and unimportant, but the words were not stilted.

After a late and quick supper upon arrival, the two of you had retired to the royal bedchamber. Steve had expected a dutiful consummation, and duty may have called for the deed, but the execution had unexpectedly run deeper, warmer, with the undertones of the fledgling familiarity built over the few hours alone earlier. Each day the familiarity grew, and though there could have perhaps been moments that could have allowed each of you two part naturally, you both drew each other into extending conversations, going on walks or rides or visiting a new area of the palace together, continuing formally in the first few days until it became merely natural and the two of you forgot altogether the idea of spending much of the time apart.

Now he understood the nostalgia with which many referred to the honeymoon. It was a pity it was coming to an end. Two weeks ago, you were little more than strangers to be wed and fulfill your royal duties. Here on this final night, he could not think of it ending. Tomorrow he would go back to being the king again.

He sighed and turned his head to look at you. He wanted to reach for you, pull you closer, touch you, but the touching wouldn’t be enough, and he’d said sensibly that the two of you should retire early specifically so he could sleep and be well rested for his early departure. He hadn’t thought you warming his bed would be torture. He thought that it would be soothing and help him sleep. But this was worse, and the longer he listened, the less it seemed sleep would ever come to him. But he would not leave or send you away, it was the last night he would have this kind of closeness afforded to him with ease. He also didn’t want to disturb you if you were perhaps close to dropping off to sleep. Nearness was enough, even if it meant no sleep.

Suddenly you shifted, rolling to lie on your back, and you let out a long sigh of your own.

“Sleep alluding you, my queen?”

“As it seems to be alluding you, my king. I know the time is only slipping away until you’re required to wake and depart. Is my restless state keeping you awake?”

Steve laughed. “Perhaps, but not in the way you think.”

He rolled up on his elbow and places a hand on your hip, drawing circles there with his fingers.

“Perhaps I can beckon sleep for both of us in…other ways.”

His hand moved up to cup your breast. He gave a squeeze and brushed his thumb over your nipple, the thin fabric of your night shift barely there. You whimpered his name, arching slightly into his palm.

“Yes?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you pleaded.

While he reached down to pull up the hem of your nightdress, your hands went quickly to free his growing desire for you. Quickly he shifted his body over yours, nestling between your eagerly parting legs. He smiled as he guided his cock to your heated folds, happy to find you were already wet. He looked up to your face, and you bit your lip before reaching your hands up to his jaw and drawing him down to meet your lips. Steve devoured you with his kiss as he plunged into you, and you gave yourself up to him completely until you were both exhausted and sleep finally overtook you.

When one of his esquires woke him in the pre-dawn glow, he suppressed a groan of agitation. It is not the kind of king he has ever wanted to portray to his subjects. He will always be a dignified king. He was diligent in making sure you were tucked in with propriety before falling asleep himself, but he looks over to make sure your modesty is preserved this morning now with someone else in the room. He wants to kiss you goodbye, and while part of him wants nothing more than to wake you, see your eyes look up at him before he leaves, he refrains from doing anything more than brushing the hair off and away from your face with only the lightest caress. It would be silly to wake you for any more sentimentality. The honeymoon is truly over, and he only feels this consuming tie because of the unique circumstances of here and now. When you are both back in the capitol, it will be more normal and less sentimental. He will be himself again.

Downstairs in the hall there were simple foods ready for him to break his fast, and Lord Barnes and General Wilson were both waiting and ready to receive their king. Barnes would accompany him to Stark’s kingdom, but Wilson was there to escort the queen back to the castle.

“Guard her with your life,” Steve commanded.

Wilson gave a slight bow. “Yes, my king.”

Steve turns to look at Barnes only to find a smirk on the man’s face. “What is so amusing at this hour?”

“You gave that order as if he hasn’t been in your service for years.”

“She is the queen,” Steve reminded them.

“I will afford her the same safety and security that I have for your majesty since given the responsibility of this position.”

Steve shook his head, “You should afford her more than you do me.”

Without hesitation, he responded, “It will be done.”

Steve strode out of the foyer and Barnes fell in just one step behind him. “We need not rush away from the palace so soon. The official royal business of Stark’s expo does not require you so immediately.”

“This was the plan,” Steve retorted, “why would we alter course?”

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return to your queen,” he agreed.

“The sooner we can return to my kingdom, Lord Barnes.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

#steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #royal au #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader insert #reader insert #steve rogers au #steve rogers royal au #king!steve rogers #request fest #aspen wrote something #aspen's request fest #cedar trees au

[teecupangel]

I had this unhinged crossover idea, Desmond getting yeeted into left 4 dead. Consider this like a really, really late Halloween thing.

I hadn't thought too much on how things would play out for Desmond but all I know is he fucking hates it, he's thought he hated being the main target for Abstergo? Oh he's gonna hate the undead despite feeling a bit of sympathy for them.

I mean, the green flu appeared to have started slowly before things spiraled out of control continuing to evolve and further spread, and the next thing people knew, their loved ones were dropping like flies only to rise once more and begin just attacking out of nowhere. Heartbreaking to him but now his fight for survival just got worse, there's no innocents anymore, and survivors who were once kind and generous are now willing to kill other survivors just to stay safe and get supplies.

He did find some of the saferoom wall writing hilarious though, if he found a marker he totally adds his two cents in.

Absolutely hates the special infected, avoiding witches? He can manage that unless some idiot startles her, first encounter he had was not fun- he swore his heart stopped for a second hearing the witch screech. And don't get him started on the hunters, they boggle his mind and make him internally rage. Of all special infected, he's 100,000% certain if he drops and all he'd end up a hunter, and that thought terrifies him above all else.

Like, could you imagine that? Hunter!Desmond would be a freaking menace, and unlike other hunters who aren't all that silent due to his training and bleeding effects, his stealth goes above and beyond what the typical hunter is capable of. Nightmare fuel for sure.

Well, this is obviously a very late Halloween thing because I just answered this today XD

I have fond memories of L4D as it was the game me and my friends would play between classes if we were quite bored. I even play Back 4 Blood with my friend a few months back just to get back to that L4D feel (and also because it was one of the few games we both had that we could play together hahahaha).

Out of all the infected, I prefer being the Hunter so there’s definitely some bias when I say that I agree with you that Desmond would definitely be the worst kind of Hunter.

Made for stealth and speed, compounded by his unique genetics that makes him the closest Isu among the humans if we don’t count the Sages.

He wouldn’t just be a Hunter, he’d be a mutated Hunter.

One might even call him the Apex Hunter.

His vision would stay in a heightened state of Eagle Vision, unaffected by flashbangs or any kind of tools that might impede his visions or other senses.

The heightened state of Eagle Vision meant that not even walls can hide his preys and he has… ‘favorites’, one might say.

The Apex Hunter would prioritize hunting and turning specific humans.

Humans that would turn into Hunters as well, joining him with some kind of strange pack-like intuition.

To the humans, it would seem random and they won’t realize it but the Apex Hunter…

He turns those that glowed bright to him.

Those with higher Isu genes that the rest.

And it is those nightmares that plague Desmond’s sleep.

It makes him fear being infected.

Not that it was easy for him to be infected.

He wore a mask to cover his face and lessen the chance of being hit by blood or any kind of body fluids from those he takes down. He goes to the nearest museum and ransacks their historical weapon and armor displays, going for the chainmail and leather armor instead of a full metal armor. It was as light as he could get it while offering the necessary protections as he sometimes has no choice but to get into close combat with them.

He goes for weapons his Bleeds are familiar with, a hunting bow for stealth kills that wouldn’t alert the hordes, a sword with the nearest weight to what he was familiar with, a hunting dagger that he uses more as a utility tool than anything else and an emergency pistol he got from an undead police officer he took down.

He kept his identity a secret. There was no need to tell everyone he was Desmond Miles, not when he’s not sure yet if Abstergo had already been wiped out or if they’re not behind the scenes, protected by the best security money can buy.

He woke up alone, in a room that had enough clues for him to figure out that he was about to be dissected (or vivisected since he wasn’t dead yet).

No clues on where the Assassins were.

If there were even Assassins left.

All he knew was that he woke up and the world had turned into a post zombie apocalypse.

So he continues to travel, focusing on the rooftops to traverse and only making contact with other survivors when it was necessary (or if his kindness gets the better of him).

He does not give a name.

But his existence is whispered regardless.

The White Hood.

A man clad in a white hoodie with a blank mask that covers his entire face.

You know when you see him because…

His white clothes do not have a speck of blood at all.

#i feel like desmond would be trying to find his team #hoping they’re still alive #but not holding his breath at all #if they were dead #he was hoping he could find his apple with their remains #at the very least #it’s morbid yes #but he has seen enough death and the shambling of the undead #to have hope #but to prepare for the worst #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

[libraford]

Obviously, I have opinions about the word 'queer.' There's historical precedence for the broad usage of this word and there are multiple posts about those contexts.

But that's only some of the reason that I choose this word to describe myself.

You know... growing up in Indiana in the 90s I didn't get exposed to the community. There was some ruckus about it at church a few times, the AIDS epidemic was background noise, and we had one gay bar that got closed down by the time I was old enough to go there.

I was outed against my will when I was seven, in 1993, when it was still very much a social death sentence in the suburban midwest. Twenty-one years before marriage was even halfway legal. And I was called all manner of things, including 'queer.' But the word that hurt the most, really hit me deeply in my soul...

...was 'lesbian.'

Lesbian is the accepted term for a woman who seeks relationships with women (the community's own gatekeeping aside.) It is one of the main letters in the acronym. There is nothing wrong with the word 'lesbian.'

But it was the way that they said it. That fucking lesbian. What are you, a lesbo? Dont sit with her, shes a lesbian.

This was paired with projectile rocks, bottles, some elaborate pranks and some less than elaborate.

This went on for eleven years. In high school our Gay-Straight-Alliance had about five people, and it was made up of two people I was sort of friends with and three people who had been throwing rocks at me. It wasnt a safe place.

And I had yet to kiss a single girl. Whole high school experience, couldnt even think about dating because I was too busy trying to shake that word off of me.

Maybe if someone said it nicely to me just once I wouldnt have felt like I was scraping the label off of me every day.

Get to college, I hear the phrase 'queer studies.' The word felt like pins on the back of my neck because I'd heard that word, too. But today it was a friendly word, a thing you could study. A history, a theory, a community.

I get shy about the word, and then I hear more words. Femme, butch, dyke, bear, bambi, fag, queen... all of these words from friendly mouths with kind eyes and all of them queer.

And then I said it out loud.

"Queer."

Ooohh.. see, it was different when I took it for myself. It wasnt pins anymore, it was a knife that I got to hold. 'Lesbian' still hurt because by the time I found queerness, it was questionable that my gender mattered anymore.

It's such a... broad word. I get to define my own queerness. I'm not a woman who loves women, I'm a person who is in love! And that love is for my girlfriend, that love is for my friends, that love is for myself- god fucking finally that love is for myself, who I hated and hated and hated for almost thirty years because someone when I was seven decided to put me in a fucking box that I didn't belong and I didnt know how to escape because I didnt know that there were other words, kinder words, words like knives in the hand instead of in the heart.

God. Fucking. Damnit. I loved myself for the first time.

And you want me... to go back into that little box that doesnt fit me anymore because it's a 'slur?' And you think I cant reclaim it because it wasnt meant for me when I was literally... called it since I was seven god damned years old?

No word meant to describe my sexuality is without a history of violence. Not a single one. The word 'lesbian' no longer stings, it just isnt wholly correct for me.

So if I can make peace with the word that sent me home crying for eleven years, you can let people reclaim the word 'queer' for themselves.

Miss me with that terf shit.

[idyllicwillowtree]

Vickie's Friend - Part 2

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve are both very protective of your friends.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: use of y/n, silly goose!Steve, fluff, trying not to out somebody

Author’s note: Sorry this took so long! I got some of the inspo from an episode of Friends

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Saturday, March 22, 1986

“I mean, it’s hilarious! I could never place what Tammy Thompson sounded like but Robin got it spot on,” Vickie enthused.

“Yeah, it’s a Muppet joke. The muppets are always funny,” you replied, focusing more on the stack of new books you were arranging on the shelf. Vickie twirled around the bookstore you both worked at, following you as you did most of the work.

“My point is that when I compared Tammy to Kermit the Frog she laughed. And not like a fake laugh either, like a real, genuine laugh. It was perfect.”

“But…?” you waved the book in your hand, gesturing for her to continue.

“But I’ve been trying really hard to stop that thing where my mouth moves faster than my brain so there was just that weird awkward silence you get when you want to keep talking with the person but you don't know what to say but I had like a million things I wanted to say but I suppressed the shit out of that so I wouldn’t keep talking and talking and talking and I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?” Vickie gasped slightly, forgetting to breathe during her run on sentence.

Sending your friend a tight lipped smile, you say, “yeah, you are.”

“I’m hopeless,” Vickie exhales and leans against the bookshelf you were organizing.

“Eh,” you turn to lean next to her, “we both are.”

“If only we could like, combine,” Vickie said, intertwining her own fingers together.

“Combine?”

“Just think about it. I know exactly what I want, and I’ve found the girl of my dreams, but I can't get the courage to ask her out. Meanwhile, you go on a million dates and you have no idea what you want. So if we just combined, all our problems would be solved.”

She was right, you had gone on what felt like a million first dates with no plans for a second one in sight. Unfortunately, Vickie is forgetting a crucial flaw in her hypothetical plan.

“Vickie?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget about Dan again?”

Your best friend’s face dropped as she blinked rapidly at you. “Right…Dan…”

“It’s alright, Vick. As long as you break up with him before you and Robin do anything, you’re good,” you say with a teasing smile.

“Robin and I aren’t going to do anything!” her fair cheeks flooded with pink.

“Okay sure, whatever you say.”

Vickie rolled her eyes in defense before gasping, “Ooh, I found our next book club book!” Her jewelry started clanking together as she jogged across the store. 

You sighed dramatically at her attempt to change the subject, “I still don’t understand why we call it a club if it’s just us-”

Vickie spun around to show off the novel she chose, “‘Sense and Sensibility’ by the one and only, Jane Austen.”

 “Ugh, you know I don’t do historical fiction,” you grimace.

“But it’s about doomed love!”

“That’s relatable,” you scoffed

“Precisely,” Vickie said with a smile, already grabbing you your own copy.

_______________________________________________

Friday, April 4th, 1986

Steve did end up asking you out after your volunteer shifts at the High School. You both were awkward and giddy about it but it was comforting to know that he was just as nervous as you were. You found him to be very charming and endearing and you were excited to get to know him better.

Your first date was very sweet and simple. There wasn’t as much to do because of all the businesses that had to close due to the earthquake, so he took you to a diner that had managed to stay afloat.

You were having a great time, the spark of electricity you felt when you flirted with him that first day flooded through your body the second he came to pick you up, and it continued as you sat and ate your food. Your topic of conversation quickly transitioned to Robin and Vickie.

“And then the guy goes, ‘what? There’s no ‘b’ in rose.’ and the other guy goes ‘there was in this one!’” Steve looked at you with anticipation in his eyes and a big grin on his face. You blinked at him, still waiting for the punchline. He sagged slightly, realizing you didn’t get his joke, “it’s funnier when Robin tells it.”

“I’m sure it is,” you teased. “Robin is very funny.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and sent you a lopsided smile that sent butterflies to your stomach.

“Speaking of Robin…her and Vickie have been talking a lot on the phone,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. You eyed him closely, assessing his reaction.

His eyes jumped around nervously as he took an extra long drink from his milkshake. You could already read him like a book, he was very obviously stalling.

Steve cleared his throat, “yeah, they seem to like each other a lot.”

You leaned forward, trying to invade his space a bit, “Steven Harrington… What do you know?” your voice was low and suggestive. It made Steve’s heart skip a beat, although he wasn’t sure if it was from his attraction to you or from nerves. He has spent so long keeping Robin’s secret, he didn’t want to accidentally out her and make her the ‘town’s pariah’, as she liked to say.

Little did he know, you made the same promise to Vickie.

When Steve kept his mouth closed, you sighed and said “okay, but if you found out on your own, that would be okay, and then we could talk about it, right?”

Steve had an idea as to what you were referring to, but he needed to tread lightly just in case. “Well, then it wouldn’t be a secret. So, yeah that would be okay,” he said carefully.

You eyed him for a moment, seeing if he’d break first. 

He squinted his eyes back at you, “do you know something?”

“Do you know something?” you said quickly.

“I might know something.”

“I might know something, too.”

“What’s the thing you know?”

“Oh no, Steve. I can’t tell you until you tell me what you know.”

He shrugged softly, “I can’t tell you what I know.”

“Well then, I can’t tell you what I know.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Fine.”

You both sat there in awkward silence as you contemplated what the other was saying. Or not saying in this case. Anxiously gnawing at the dead skin of your thumb as you looked out the diner window, you could feel Steve staring at you, watching you suspiciously.

_______________________________________________

Saturday, April 5th, 1986

You and Steve were so excited to see each other again that you planned your second date for the very next day. Unfortunately, you had to cancel.

You didn’t want to postpone, especially since you were still eagerly still waiting to kiss him, but you had to. Vickie and Robin were finally going to hang out together and you wanted to spy. Some would probably call it stalking, but you didn’t care. 

Being Vickie’s only friend that she trusted enough to share her secret with came with a lot of pros and cons. On the plus side you were honored that she trusted you, but on the other hand Vickie can talk a lot and it can get to be a bit draining. You earned the right to spy a little on their first date. 

Also, Robin could be a serial killer. You never know. Stranger things have happened in Hawkins.

Steve actually told you, when you called him to reschedule, that he was about to cancel as well. He had some excuse that you weren’t really paying attention to, you were just excited that he wanted to eventually see you again. 

You hung up the phone with a smile still on your face. Immediately, it started ringing again. “Hawkins’ Book Attic, how may I help you?”

“Hey Y/N, is Vickie there?”

Of course it was Robin. 

“Hi Robin! Yeah just a second,” you pulled the phone away from your face before shouting, “Vickie! Phone’s for you!”

“Thanks Y/N, I’ll take it from the break room.” Vickie shouted from the back.

You returned the phone to your ear, covering the mouthpiece, so you can hear when Vickie picks it up.

“Hello?” you heard Vickie say.

You were about to hang up when you heard Robin say, “hey baby!”

That’s new, you thought. Against your better judgment, you continued to listen.

“Hey hun, I was just thinking about you.”

Your eyes widened. You looked around, making sure no one was watching you before you realized there was no one else in the store. It’s been closed while you and your co-workers cleaned up the place. The building itself wasn’t destroyed like some of the other businesses in town were, but it definitely left a mess with all the knocked over shelves and books.

“Awh, that’s sweet. I just wanted to check to see if we’re still hanging out after your shift?”

Ah, yes. The date you were planning to spy on.

Vickie giggled sweetly, “of course, Robin! I’ll pick you up after work and we’ll head over to that wildflower field by the quarry.”

You hung up after that, that’s all the intel you needed for your mission.

_______________________________________________

Luckily for you, your shift at the bookstore ended at the same time as Vickie’s. You managed to get to the field before them since Vickie needed to go pick up Robin. You found some street parking in a neighborhood nearby to ensure that your best friend didn’t see your car. You smoothly parallel parked in front of a dark brown BMW to start your stake out. 

You focused on the road that was perpendicular to the street you were stationed on. Only when you saw Vickie’s blue hand-me-down Ford Cortina drive by did you grab your bag and exit the car, starting the short trek to the woods surrounding the open field of colorful wildflowers.

Spotting the two girls from a distance was easy with Vickie’s fire-red hair and Robin’s towering height. The tricky part was finding a suitable hiding spot. 

Glancing around the wooded area you noticed a tall tree nearby. Before you could assess the strength of the branches you heard the rustling of a giant bush at the perimeter of the field a few feet away from you, followed by whispered curses. Denim clad legs were sticking out of the green shrubbery as a man was trying to wedge himself through it. You’d know those white sneakers (and that fine ass) anywhere.

“Steve?” 

You heard a hollow “thunk” as Steve jumped in surprise, his head hitting one of the branches. He slowly emerged as he rubbed the back of his skull with a grimace. He was wearing giant women’s sunglasses and a long blonde wig that now sat lopsided on his head.

“O-oh, hey Y/N,” he said sheepishly.

You let out a surprised snort at his appearance, before realization bloomed in your chest. You smirked, knowingly.

“What are you doing here, Steve?”

Steve shuffled to the side, trying to block your view of Robin and Vickie setting up their picnic.

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

“Okay…what are you wearing?” you said suspiciously, tugging a leaf out of the synthetic fibers of his wig before crossing your arms.

Steve immediately paled.  He snatched the jumbo lady glasses off his face, showing you his panicked brown eyes. What excuse could he come up with for wearing this in the middle of the woods instead of going on your second date?

“Uh…it’s just-...you see-”

“Is that Robin and Vickie?” you interrupted, craning your neck to look over Steve’s shoulder, pretending like you had just noticed them.

“What? Uh, n-no I don’t think so.”

He was such a bad liar.

“Yeah it is! Let’s go say hi-”

“NO!” Steve’s voice echoed across the field, making Vickie and Robin glance in their direction. Before they could see, you gripped Steve’s shoulders and pulled him down to crouch behind the shrub he was trying to hide in moments before.

“What are you-”

“Shut up, Harrington. Do you want to blow our cover?” you frantically whispered, peaking around the leaves carefully to see Robin handing Vickie a pink sparkly drink with a glimmering smile on her face.

Steve gasped dramatically. “I knew it! You’ve known this whole time?”

“Oh please, you knew nothing,” you said with a giggle.

“Okay fine, but I had my suspicions,” he grinned at you. Finally, he had someone to talk to about Robin’s love life. You two already had an immediate connection, but this solidified his attraction to you even more.

“Ooh! Wait, I came prepared too.” You swiveled, turning your back to him as you dug through your bag. He watched as you pulled something out that you placed on your face. Then you whipped out a baseball cap that you tucked your hair into before placing it on your head. You spun back around to face him again, “ta-da!”

He let out a surprised snort, similar to the one you gave when you saw him in his disguise. You had stuck a dark black mustache to your upper lip, wiggling your nose like a rabbit to show it off.

You both continued to laugh as quietly as you could at the absurdity of the situation you were in. Somehow, you both separately planned on canceling your second date, dressing up in a disguise, and spying on your friends. 

“We need higher ground, I think,” Steve whispered after his laughs had died down.

“Come on,” you gripped his hand, ignoring the tingling sensation it gave you, and dragged him to the tree you were planning on scaling earlier.

You helped hoist each other up, finding two parallel branches that were sturdy enough for you and Steve to sit across from each other on. It was the perfect spot to spy on Robin and Vickie with the opening in the tree leaves, while still staying hidden. Steve rested a foot on your branch as he got comfortable. You were close enough to him that his spare knee was in between yours. 

Your legs swung lazily underneath you as you admired him, happy to have someone to share this moment with. 

“Look, look, look,” Steve whispered excitingly, leaning towards you more as he pointed towards your friends.

Angling your body to get a look, you didn’t realize how close your faces had gotten, but Steve did. He nearly fell out of the tree when he got a whiff of your sweet perfume. He held his breath as he subtly studied your face, scrunched in concentration before lighting up with excitement.  Despite the fake mustache, you were the prettiest person he had ever seen.

“I can’t believe it. Robin is feeding her! And it's a strawberry? That’s like the sexiest food,” you snickered. Turning to see Steve’s reaction, you almost bumped noses with him. 

Both of you froze, no one was leaning in, but no one was pulling away either. 

After what felt like forever you whispered, “Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?” he replied, equally breathless. 

“Have you ever kissed a woman with a mustache before?”

He beamed at you, eyes sparking with humor. “Can’t say that I have,” he glanced at your lips, “have you ever kissed a guy wearing his mom’s old halloween wig?”

Before you could stop it, you snorted right in his face. Luckily, it made him smile even more.

He gently held your cheek as you placed your hand on his leg that was still propped up on the branch you were sitting on. Your heart was practically bruising your ribcage as it pumped in anticipation. Steve’s face heated up even more as you both started to lean in. 

Before your lips could touch, his foot shifted and you lost your balance, sending both of you tumbling out of the tree, breaking branches along the way.

Steve landed on his back in the plush grass below, it wouldn’t have hurt if you didn’t land directly on top of him. The breath in his lungs got pushed out as he let out a loud “oof” that quickly dissolved into laughter. Once you realized he was okay, you began to full body laugh alongside him. 

Both your disguises got lost in the chaos, he could finally get a good look at you. You were still laying on top of him as his brown eyes stared happily up at you, ignoring the leaves and debris that were still raining from your fall.

It’s like deja-vu, time slows as you stare into each other's eyes, slowly leaning forward yet again.

“a-hem!” 

Both your heads whipped to the side to see Robin, now only a few feet away from you, glaring disapprovingly at Steve with her hands on her hips. Vickie had her arms crossed and her furrowing brows were directed towards you.

“Our cover has been blown!” you say to Steve.

“Retreat! Retreat! Abort mission,” Steve said, a grin still plastered on his face as you both hopped up and ran through the woods, hand-in-hand. Robin and Vickie watched you both go, listening as the sounds of maniacal laughter echoed throughout the woods, fading away the further you got.

Both of you made it back to your cars, still laughing through your heavy breathing. Steve didn’t waste time catching his breath before gripping the back of your head and planted his lips to yours.

You were still giddy with laughter as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck in an attempt to get closer. He snaked his arms around your waist as he walked you backwards, pining you to his car. 

You pulled back for air, still nuzzling your nose against his. Both of you were still smiling like a couple of idiots as happiness and adrenaline flowed through your veins. 

You continued to pant in each other’s faces before you whispered, “hey Steve?”

Steve pecked your lips again, “yeah?”

“So… you know that Fast Times tape we returned a couple weeks ago?”

_______________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

Tags:

@johnricharddeacycy

@stormwellsstuff

@impossibelle

@kennedy-brooke

@heyyimmisunderstood

#stranger things #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley #mutal pining #steve harrington x y/n #steve x reader #canon divergent #80s #netflix #vickie's friend #robin x vickie #fluff

[drdemonprince]

your reblog of that post reminded me. i have no connection to my indigenous culture on my father's side because i want nothing to do with that side of my family. the people i know from that side of my family are all horrifically and violently abusive. and what i often have to sit with is that this is one way various cultures are subsumed into a hegemonic whiteness. i have little doubt that the substance abuse and violence from that side of my family can be at least partially attributed to white supremacy. what little i know of my paternal grandfather is that he treated his kids and women largely the same way my father treats his kids and women. white supremacy turns trauma and the consequent violence into our culture, which (of course!) we want to separate ourselves from. so we're left with this hole where culture should be. i'm lucky enough to have (some) cultural polish roots via my adoptive grandparents on my mom's side, at least.

This is a very common story -- a friend of mine who is reconnecting with their Indigeneity has a similar struggle. In my family, the violence of assimilation and the violence of abuse, neglect, heavy substance use, and even interfamilial murder are all inextricably linked. There is this big hole in my family life, an occluded spot taking up more than a quarter of the page, but in the background so it's easy to be tempted to ignore. The family that had a distinct culture separate from the dominate white middle-class one is also the family that has almost no historical records of itself, erased much of the history that remained, took deliberate efforts to pass as white, and sometimes literally killed one another because they were so poor and traumatized and dysfunctional. Every healthy, loving, supportive link that i had to that family legacy died very early, as if marked by a curse. And my dad, who was uhh not so healthy, did too.

I can only connect to that history by doing things like talking to my one surviving uncle, exchanging foggy memories with one another to try and clarify things as best we can, reading about the region, doing geneaological research, and connecting with local tribes as well as heritage groups that preserve some vestiges of the culture, and cultures tangentially close to what once was there. I find it healing while also feeling like a fraud and an interloper, but I have settled on the understanding that keeping these words and practices alive and giving to them without demanding anything for myself is the right thing to do. And a whole lot of mourning. But if you are Indigenous at all, then mourning what is lost while fighting to preserve what is not is kind of the very culture itself, too.

On the other side of my family, it is harder. They were more present in my life, and less dysfunctional, but there is a profound hollowness there. My dad, my grandma, my uncle, my relatives who died before I got to know them, they were marked with trauma...but they were outspoken, and distinct, and so vibrantly alive. I can take the good with the bad of them and see a rich, full humanness. It sounds so terrible to say, but i find it very challenging to locate the humanity in my mother's side of the family. They do nearly all that they can to choke it out. I'm trying to not be resentful anymore of what they never learned how to do. So instead I will just be sad. Being around them is so cold. It's so lonely. Except for my sister.

Sorry, I made all of this about myself, but I hope some of this is resonant. I think there are ways you can connect with your Indigeneity even if your feelings toward your direct relations are quite negative. There's a lot of talk in Native spaces about pretendians and people not knowing their people and having no family ties and that exists for a reason, but it can sometimes scare the wrong people away, much as talk about straight people in queer spaces can drive the wrong people away. There are ways to forge new connections and practice a culture and find your people if you do not have them already, and some of my friends have shown me that. But you also do not have to if all the associations with that background are just...too upsetting and too linked to trauma. It might be healing to find your own way of relating to it, or maybe just connecting with the culture that you have fond warm feelings and associations with is the path for you. I miss my parternal grandmother so much. She was a truly radiant and special person. Decades after her death, my uncle, her son, still says she was his very best friend. And it's not even in a toxic way. she was just that wonderful a person. ive never been loved quite so actively, nurtured and made to grow while also listened to. i am so thankful i got that even for just thirteen years. and sometimes honoring her is just being a searcher and having a fiery spirit inside me and going to yard sales and crushing at trivial pursuit.

[madhatterbri]

Captain | J.W.

Summary: Y/N is the lover of a man that is indebted to him. Jay White agrees to take you to settle the debt. Historical AU.

Hope you enjoy @coleskingdom

Author's Note: Someone once posted that Jay reminds them of a pirate, and I can't stop thinking about it. Listen, I don't want any smoke with the Darby girlies. He is in the GIF and it was just easier that way.

@plentyoffandoms @99hook @theworldofotps @midwestmade29 Mentions of Jay White, Austin Gunn, Colten Gunn, Darby Allin

Pure Fiction

Captain "Switchblade" Jay White was one of the most feared pirates in the Americas and Caribbean. Men, women, and children feared to even speak his name for fear that he would magically appear. Very few lived to tell the tale after crossing his path. Rumor had it he only kept a few survivors to spread the word about his cruelty. His boys, Austin and Colten, who stood by his sides, were known to have the same love for cruelty.

A cool ocean breeze blew onto the docks as five pirates had a stare-down. The dimly lit lanterns flickered, trying to outlast the harsh wind. Despite the dim lights, the scowl on Jay White's face could be seen. Captain Darby didn't have the money with him.

Y/N stood behind Captain Darby and watched Captain White closely. He wore a black vest and a gold chained necklace. A knife hung from the gold chain. Black pants with gold and white hashtags shielded him from the elements. A gold bat laid limply in his hands. The two other men at his sides appeared calm at the news, yet they could pounce on Darby at any second.

"You see, sir, I haven't enough money. We barely escaped with our lives last week when we happened on a British ship. Their defenses," Darby stuttered and snaked his fingers through his hair. Jay shifted once he found out he wasn't getting his money again. He shuffled his boots and looked down at the ground. He grabbed his gold bat and twirled it in his hands. The bat was going to be tasting blood tonight.

"That is a shame, you know? You have a nice ship, hard-working crew," he complimented. Austin and Colten nodded in agreement to their deranged captain. Jay took a step towards the right, and his eyes locked on you. An idea suddenly popped into his head. "A beautiful woman at your side,"

"Captain White?" Darby questioned as Jay strode towards you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Austin and Colten stand over Darby to keep him quiet. You looked down at your feet. There was no use in running especially being outnumbered like this. Jay moved the bat under your chin. He raised your head up so the two of you were staring face to face.

"She isn't part of this deal, Captain White. She was here for, um,"

"Prettier than any treasure I have ever seen. Tell me your name, darling," Jay instructed you. You told him your name without hesitation. He tried to catch his surprise reaction, but you could see it in his eyes. You weren't afraid of him despite the stories. Call it madness or brilliance.

His right-hand men smiled at each other. He spoke it back to you. The way it rolled off his tongue made you practically swoon. Jay looked down and rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb in more thought.

"Support? Trust me, mate, I wouldn't want to let this one go either. But you, my lucky friend, have an amazing opportunity at your hands. One that I don't just let any bloke have, you understand?" He asked. The cunning captain acted like this was a deal of the century. You knew better. Darby isn't going to like this one bit.

"She isn't for sale," Darby defended you. Despite the brief courtship, he had become fond of you. The tiny moment of courage squashed when he looked at the disdain of the three men around him.

"You give her to me, and all your debts with me will be squared away," Captain White offered and stood between Austin and Colten. Darby looked down in shame. He wanted his debts with the captain squared away more than anything.

"You promise that you won't hurt him if I go with you?" You questioned. The captain pointed his bat at you and then at Darby as he spoke.

"If you come with me, I swear on my life that I will not lay a single finger on your beloved. He will get to have his ship and crew and sail around free of any worries as a pirate should in one piece," Jay promised and looked at his boys out of the corner of his eyes. You turned to Darby, who didn't seem to be against this idea. The Switchblade reached out his hand for you to take it. "Our bargain?"

"Deal," you agreed and shook his hand. Jay smiled triumphantly.

Once you made it up the ship, Jay reached his hand out to seal the deal with Darby. Darby went to take his hand, yet Jay pulled his away. Darby looked on in confusion until Jay raised his hand up in the form of a gun. His index finger pointed right at Darby's forehead while his thumb was straight towards the sky.

"Welcome to the Bullet Club Gold, love. Why don't you make your way up there? I will be with you shortly for your first command," Jay assured you. He stepped out of the way so you could walk the gangway back up his ship.

While walking the gangway, you noticed his black sails with gold and white hashtags like his pants. The number five represented in them the five captains that betrayed him. Supposedly, they left him to die on some island, but he was able to come back stronger than ever. Rumor had it the men were currently running from him like dogs.

"You lied to me," you accused him. "We had a deal,"

With little hesitation, Austin and Colten began their attack on Darby. One punch knocked him on his ass and the brothers ganged up on him. All you could see were the two men on top of him.

Jay made his way up the gangway, whistling a jolly tune. The sounds of grunting and yelping farther and farther behind him. He didn't worry too much. The boys knew to keep him alive and in one piece as promised. His bat rested comfortably on his shoulder. You watched the beating in shock.

Jay stared at you and raised his hand up for you to see. "Afraid not, darling. I promised never to lay a hand on him, and he would be in one piece. I kept my word. My hands are clean,"

#fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #jay white fanfiction #jay white x you #jay white x reader #switchblade jay white x you #switchblade jay white #jay white

[absolutebl]

Hi!

I love your Blog and love to read your takes in everything. So thank you so much for all your Posts and thoughts about the industry etc.

Here is my question: i came across one of your posts where you wrote "actually gay, not bl gay" (it was a Post about Jojo and Only Friends) and while I FELT that I TOTALLY understood what you meant and instantly was like "yes 100% clear" Id love to read and learn more about what this means exactly and why some bls feel quite heteronormative while some dont. Would you mind explain the take on "actually gay Not Bl gay" a little bit? And why some Shows feel just more queer than others (besides the unbelievable stupid "gay only for you" trope lol)

Thank you so much and I hope you will have a nice day!

actually gay, not bl gay

There's actually quite a discourse on this right now mostly originating with @waitmyturtles and @wen-kexing-apologist (Post @killiru references above is here.)

I tend to mostly talk about this in broad brush strokes as a queer lens.

But there's a great ven diagram (which of course I've lost the link to) that approaches the idea of and queer lens by tunneling into its approach and intent:

about queers

by queers

for queers

How do different BLs intersect in different ways with these three elements?

When I said "actually gay, not BL gay" I was alluding to this discourse. Specifically the "about queers" category of BL.

There are characters in BL who read as genuinely gay (as in belonging to the queer family of this terrible reality we live in) and then there are those that seem more performative (to exist in a bubble of fantasy were sexual identity is almost unimportant, only the romance matters, everything is safe sweetness & light). For some queers this can read as manipulative or even exploitive (because it is inauthentic to most queer experiences). For me, it's fine... even desirable. I like the safe bubble. I enjoy the utter delusional escapism of it. Sometimes I will call this sanitized gay. (Since it is designed to make gay palatable to non-gay identified folks e.g. seme/uke.)

A sanitized gay BL may be unintentional but it is nested in origin yaoi and mm romance whose target market has never been the queer community, and whose authors have historically not been members of it, either.

Let's be frank, we queers are generally a terrible target market, we don't have enough spending power - especially not for a piece of pop culture as niched as BL. And as creators we really want our voices to be heard (obvs), which makes us produce content that those unsympathetic or uncaring find uncomfortable. (Yes, I know, fuck them, but also, they have all the money and the entertainment industry is a numbers game.)

So in the arena of office romances, just as an example:

actually gay = The New Employee

sanitized gay = Our Dating Sim

actual gay = Step By Step

sanitized gay = A Boss And a Babe

All of the above have the same tropes, archetypes, and premises. All of them are BL. Some are just... queerer feeling than others. And the characters in those shows (Step by Step and The New Employee) read as more "actually gay."

This has nothing to do with the actors, chemsitry, or how much we may personally like the show (Our Dating Sim is one of my absolute favorite BLs). It has to do with how closely those CHARACTERS intersect with the reality of queerness as we inhabit it today. It will be lots of little touches given to the drama by director and script:

language use,

surrounding friendships (and friendship style),

mannerisms and physicality (specially body language around straights vs other queer characters),

makeup & wardrobe,

facial expressions,

surrounding queer-coded behaviors by side characters,

layers of story nuance that indicate a complicated queer-driven back story.

Markers of specifically a queer identity are given to the leads.

These kinds of BLs are satisfying the "about queers" category. ("By queers" can be difficult to extract because IRL outting is involved. "For queers" is the rarest kind of BL, because making something specifically for us often alienates the majority of the rest of viewership/market. I could be argued that SCOY did this.)

I'm sure I've missed things, but I hope that kinda makes sense?

By/For/About discourse from @wen-kexing-apologist here:

Parts 1

Part 2

Part 3

I'm indebted to them for the links!

More Queer Stuff from Yours Truly

BL Linguistics & Queer Identity - I Am Gay versus I Like Men 

Will BL Get More Honestly Queer? 

Queer lens (from the director) and chemistry (from the actors) in BL (A Tale of Thousand Stars)

Touch & Daisy in Secret Crush On You - Queer Coded Language and 3rd Gender Identity

BL in Taiwan & Gay Marriage

Debating Queerbaiting in BL ( + Devil Judge... is it queerbaiting?) 

BL Actors and the Assumption of Queerness - outing actors, coming out, being out, more:  Is that BL actor actually queer?

So is it really fetishization? straight women loving bl 

Some BL fans are sasaengs, and it’s a problem in this fandom 

BLs That Highlight How Society Treats Queers

10 BLs That Are Honest to a Queer Experience 

(source)

#asked and answered #bl and queer identity #intersection between BL and queer stories #about queers by queers for queers #thai bl #korean bl #the new employee #step by step the series #actually gay #not bl gay #actually gay not bl gay #BL university

[jarenka]

finally I finished this pic. Maybe you remember it from the post I MADE IN FUCKING JUNE... a very old post.

And here is the scene in the fic I invented the whole opera plot for:

Anakin closed his eyes, lost in memories.

He and Obi-Wan took a day off to go to the Opera House of Senra together. Even with Anakin's driving habits, it took them four hours to get there. 

The theater building, as was customary in Karati, was located in the center of the park, and Anakin and Obi-Wan managed to take a little walk before the performance. Last time Anakin went to the opera with Palpatine more than twenty years ago.

 "Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis The Wise?"

 He thought these memories would haunt him now, but as soon as he and Obi-Wan entered the theater building, all bad thoughts flew out of his head. They climbed the wide stairs, found their seats in the parterre. Until the lights went out, Anakin observed the hall decorated with intricate wood carvings and beautiful lamps modeled after different local flowers. Anakin and Obi-Wan were wearing their regular civilian clothes but the majority of spectators chose traditional evening clothes of East Catari, embroidered silk tunics. 

“Do you remember the first time you tried to dissuade me from going to the opera?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan. 

He was still very young back then, not even a teenager. In the dining room Anakin overheard other Jedi discussing the latest premiere in Galaxies Opera House. At that time he did not even know what a "premiere" was, and he saw something remotely similar to the theater play only once, when his mother's friends arranged an amateur performance for the children on... some kind of holiday? Anakin no longer remembered. He liked it. Aunt Sey portrayed a farmer and sang funny songs. 

“You were eleven," Obi-Wan replied. “Not every adult can handle opera, and I thought you wouldn't understand.”

He really barely understood anything. It was a historical drama with political intrigue at the end of which the hero was killed by his old enemy, and even as an adult Anakin found this plot to be overcomplicated. But then he was struck by the singing, and the music, and the and the actors in stunning costumes, and the soft play of light and color on stage. He sat almost motionless until entr'acte, and moved only when the curtain fell. "Is it the end?" he asked Obi-Wan, disappointed. "No, there are three acts, but in the meantime we can rest a little." 

In the opera they were currently watching there were only two acts and it took two and a half hours total. When the lights went out, the orchestra played a short overture in the dim light of the bulbs in the orchestra pit, then the lights went out, the music subsided. The hall was plunged into complete silence and darkness. 

And then a voice rang out — an amazingly beautiful contralto. Bluish light flooded the stage, illuminating the scenery of the palace garden with palm trees and bushes strewn with flowers; the palace itself was visible in the distance, a squat building with round domes; two female figures with spears guarded the entrance to the terrace where Princess Akarias was waiting for her beloved. The voice of the actress, at first quiet, now filled the whole hall, she pressed her hands to her chest, tormented by terrible forebodings. Her lover, Saria, a general of the royal army, had to lead troops to war with a neighboring kingdom, and Akarias was afraid that she would die. 

Anakin froze in awe just like years ago in the Galaxies Opera House. He had no idea that theater still could invoke such strong feelings in him.

It became a little brighter on the stage: dawn was approaching, and Akarias was afraid that her beloved would not come to her. 

This production was much simpler than any that was done at the Coruscant. No holoprojectors or complicated machinery. To change the scenery, the lights were turned off between scenes, and at some point Anakin was even able to distinguish the silhouettes of workers in black clothes who were carrying the royal throne from the stage. 

The author of the opera took the plot from the ancient history of Palia, the home planet of the current inhabitants of Carati. After the long war, the king of Asteria and king of Kadasa decided to marry their children Princess Akarias and Prince Tarr in order to establish peace between the kingdoms, but instead of becoming a pledge of peace, on the wedding night, Princess Akarias killed her husband. In the opera, this murder, as expected, was committed out of passion: Akarias was in love with the general Saria, who died in the war at the hands of Prince Tarr, and she agreed to the marriage only to take her revenge.

The last scene took place in the Prince’s pavilion decorated for newly married couple. Sitting in front of the mirror without her upper dress, Akarias sang that she still loves Saria. She prayed to the gods for her and Saria to be together in the afterlife despite her marriage with Tarr. She begged the spirit of Saria for forgiveness, and assured her that she entered into this marriage with only one goal: to do to Tarr what he did to Saria. From the bodice of her dress she took out a knife that had been with her all the wedding ceremony. The metal shone brightly in the spotlight. 

Tarr was waiting for her sprawled in the bed with only his undershirt on. He dreamed that he would finally make love with his beautiful young wife. He propped himself up on his elbows when Akarias approached him, and froze when, instead of going to bed with him, she picked up the knife. Akarias killed him, and then, after offering another prayer to the gods, she killed herself.

Only when the lights came on did Anakin notice that he had grabbed Obi-Wan's arm. He hastily unclenched his fingers and looked at Obi-Wan's palm. He felt a bit dizzy with excitement. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked. After all this beautiful music and beautiful voices his own voice sounded a bit weird to him. 

Obi-Wan replied with a puzzled look. 

"You adjusted the prostheses, didn't you?..” 

Anakin didn't adjust anything. He hadn't held hands with anyone for so long that it hadn't even occurred to him. 

“Well... I forgot.”  

Obi-Wan's gaze softened. 

“It's all right. Apparently, the factory settings suited you.” 

The actors came out to bow, and Obi-Wan and Anakin applauded them along with the rest of the audience.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #post-rotj au #my art

[twogyuu]

We Were Destined to Fall (But I'll Catch You) || Eight (2/2): 1500 BC, Greece

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader (ft. kid!hansol and friend!seungkwan)

Synopsis: In which he traded the fate of humanity for your love.

Genre: Angst, betrayal, greed, fallen angel!jeonghan, sinner!reader, blacksmith!seokjin, F2E!seokmin, one-sided pining, angel!joshua

Warnings: HEAVY THEMES OVERALL!!! Misogyny, mentions of brothels and infidelity (oc was born out of wedlock), mentions of weapon and combat, suggestive kinda, mentions of famine, profanity, social inequities, mythology/historical inaccuracies (i did my best to do research but reminder that this is a fictional fantasy based in anceint Greece), oc has a specific appearance this era, unedited

WC: ~3k (I got carried away 🥴)

A/N: Part 2 of 2 of the origins

Taglist: @yoozuku​​ @sleeplessdawn​ @listxn @paintedstarres @knucklesdeepmingi @nanamioo​ @bibinnieposts

previous || masterlist || next

The last few rays of the sunset warmed Jeonghan’s skin, rejuvenating his spirit and making him feel more alive after a long day’s worth of work. He was thankful to the god, Apollo, for letting his chariot run a while longer to allow Jeonghan and Joshua this luxury – after all, they did swipe a few stars from his sister Artemis for him to gift his human lover. It was the least Apollo could do.

The leaves of the olive tree hanging overhead tickled Jeonghan’s forearms as the gentle summer breeze passed through. The weather was exquisitely balanced; a wonderful way to end the day. All would’ve been perfect, but there was a thorn in his side that ceased to let Jeonghan reside in complete bliss. 

“How’s your little thief?” Joshua asked. 

“My thief?” Jeonghan replied, dubiously, his eyes still shut close in an attempt to indulge in any lingering ounce of comfort. 

Joshua nodded, humming in response as he pushed a piece of rye in between his lips. “Yeah, your thief. The one the whole city is vying for – and not in a good way.”

Jeonghan feigned nonchalance and stupidity. “Ah, her.”

“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t bother you, you know,” Joshua chortled, nudging his shoulder. Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered open, throwing his companion a dirty look. “Even if you managed to fulfill all the prayers Zeus assigned to you today, I know the very thought of her still bothers you – you’ve been restless for several nights!”

Jeonghan sighed, adjusting himself to sit up straighter. “She may look innocent and fragile, but she is not an easy one. I have been trying to muster the right plan to approach her without causing a ruckus – as you know, those are difficult to clean up.”

“The mastermind himself has met his match at last,” Joshua commented. 

Subconsciously, Jeonghan’s hand flew to his neck, his fingers toying with the brass key at the memory of you. “She is smarter than most – I believe she suspected me when I approached her in the market. Most humans are usually blinded by my beauty to think clearly.”

“So she thinks you ugly?” Joshua joked. 

Jeonghan scowled again at his best friend. Joshua held up his hands in defense, silently reassuring him it was a friendly tease. 

“Can’t you just zap her into the underworld?” Joshua suggested. 

“Surely, you cannot be asking me this now?” Jeonghan retorted. “You are an angel and we do not condemn or kill unless commanded by the holy gods themselves. Besides! She must face the consequences of her actions determined by Hermes and Zeus, let alone the journey to the underworld is not as easy as ‘zapping.’ There’s the River of Styx, trials and tribulations–”

Joshua waved off his friends. “I got it, I got it – stop going on a tangent and distracting yourself! No wonder you cannot capture her!”

“You should watch your mouth before I shove you off this tree, Joshua,” Jeonghan grumbled. “How dare you underestimate me! I am an angel.”

“As am I,” Joshua replied, “I can fly if you push me off.”

Jeonghan huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Sometimes, I wonder how I’ve lived this long in your presence.”

“As you have explained, you cannot ‘zap’ me into the underworld,” Joshua remarked.

“You–”

“I have information that may or may not be of help to you,” Joshua cut him off. 

“Information?” Jeonghan repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes. He did his best to recollect his composure. “You could’ve just told me so rather than mocking me.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“The information?”

Joshua smoothed the skirt of his chiton. “Your little thief happens to be the illegitimate child of the Greek Archon – her and her little brother’s mother was one of the brothel workers.”

Rather than ease and satisfaction, there was an unsettling sensation that overtook Jeonghan’s body. The rye he was snacking on suddenly taste like metal, his throat growing dry as his limbs grew stiff. 

Yet, it wasn’t the news that you were born out of wedlock that was bothering him.

“A little brother, you say?”Jeonghan asked again, ensuring he wasn’t mishearing his friend. 

“Mhm,” Joshua confirmed. 

His heart began to sink. “H-how ‘little’ is this . . . little brother?”

Joshua shrugged, not noticing the sudden change in demeanor in his friend. “Not sure – just something I heard through the grapevine.”

“And you’re sure it was her? The thief girl?” Jeonghan asked more urgently. A piece of him was suddenly wishing Joshua had made a mistake and was gravely wrong. “Th-there are plenty of children born into brothels, a-and how is this information even useful?”

Only then did Joshua begin to realize the panic his friend was entering. The former crinkled his brows in confusion, lips twisting into a pout. 

“I mean,” Joshua said slowly, “One would think she would follow in her mother’s footsteps. Perhaps she resides at the brothel.”

For some reason, this angered Jeonghan – a turbulence picking up momentum in his chest as he let out a frustrated huff and stood up on the branch. He couldn’t quite understand what exactly about this situation was upsetting him, let alone, they were criticisms and rumors about the source of his problems and apprehension for these past few weeks. However, it was there and didn’t seem like it would dissipate any time soon. 

“I believe you are mistaken,” Jeonghan said calmly, a slight shake to his tone. He held up his hand, waving his opposite one over his pinky finger to reveal the thin string of silk gold thread. It glistened beautifully in the sunset, the last few rays of light reflecting off the metal. 

Joshua gasped. 

“I tied it to the jade ring she stole. Where she goes, I can trace her whereabouts with Athena’s silk gold thread and I highly doubt it’s at a brothel,” Jeonghan explained. 

“Jeonghan, but you know that is not the purpose of Athena’s thread,” Joshua scolded, “If it’s past the time, you will not be able to cut ties! Your fates will be entangled!”

“It is only a legend that the gods made to keep creatures like us away from powerful tools like this,” Jeonghan said coolly. He admired the knot, tugging at the string extending from it as if to tease Joshua – tease you that he was coming. “Why keep it locked away when it can be used to our benefit?”

“Jeonghan,” Joshua repeated his friend’s name sternly. “We must return it before Athena notices–”

The sound of a ‘clunk’, metal meeting wood, interrupted Joshua’s warning. His eyes widened in horror as he noticed the brass and sapphire key descending into the field of sorghum, the worn leather strap fluttering in the air as the prized object was about to meet its doom. Joshua lept from the tree branch, unleashing his wings to swoop and rescue the key. 

How could Jeonghan be so careless? This was the key to the Pithos! Any calamity upon the key led to the danger of the box, unleashing horrible unknowns even to them as heavenly beings. 

When Joshua landed, key tightly wrapped in his fist, Jeonghan was already preparing for take-off, presumably to find you. 

“Keep it safe for me, Joshua,” Jeonghan advised, “She already seems to know something is not quite right about that key.”

. . . .

Okay . . .

So, perhaps Joshua’s “information” was not far from the truth at all. 

Dusk had settled over the city, the dusty streets cleared of humans, only a few stragglers making their way home. 

Alone, stood Jeonghan, wrapped in a worn brown cloak, in the guise of a common man, in front of the brothel at the edge of town. The old building towered over him, candles blazing from the main floor – some already retired to their quarters above. He could hear the jovial tune being played on the kithara, accompanied by the aulos. Hearty laughter bellowed from the thick chests of the men there seeking special company, tinkles of girlish laughter quick to follow. 

His thread had led him here.

He couldn’t help, but shake off the feeling of disappointment . . . was it? Perhaps he was anticipating something . . . a little more grand for his little thief. 

Jeonghan unveiled his hood. Just as he was about to make his way inside, someone else stepped out. The slam of the wooden door thundered across the quiet neighborhood, the bottom edge threatening to crack and chip against the clay more than it already was. 

“Fancy seeing you here, merchant,” you greeted him, your voice dripping in saccharine. 

“M’lady,” Jeonghan greeted you sarcastically, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Much to his surprise, he had half expected you to be dressed in a thin and loose chiton that hardly covered your virtue. Yet, here you stood in a warrior’s chiton and chlamys – much different from the elegant gown he saw you in at the marketplace. The lack of makeup dusting your features and the way the fitted outfit hung loose around your frame shocked Jeonghan . . . you appeared rather famished. 

Silence, then a beat. 

You took a step towards him, the pebbles crunching under your feet seemingly deafening to Jeonghan’s ear. He has never met a human, let alone a girl, quite so bold. 

“I don’t like playing games, so let’s just get to the point,” you quipped. You pulled the jade ring from the folds of your chiton and tossed it in his direction. Jeonghan didn’t dare to catch it, letting it tumble on the dirt sidewalk before his feet. You crossed your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyebrows at him. “You’re too foolish to be a merchant – who exactly are you and what would you want?”

Jeonghan smirked, letting his gaze fall to his feet. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the ring, cradling it in his palm. He turned it over, his thumb rubbing against the gold and then the smoothened stone.

His insouciance seemed to have bothered you, for Jeonghan could tell, you were growing impatient. Your breathing was growing uneven as your fury coursed through your veins; your jaw clenched several times as you tried to form the right words to get the information you wanted from him. 

“Did my beloved father send you?” you sneered. 

“Quite rude to speak to a guest of this lovely inn like that,” Jeonghan pouted sarcastically. He scanned over the building before looking at you once more. “What would your boss think?”

“Miss Samara has no claim over me,” you remarked. 

“Fascinating indeed,” Jeonghan marveled. He walked closer to you and you didn’t dare budge. He took note of your hollowed cheeks and the bags under your eyes. Nonetheless, your features were . . . exquisite and unique, particularly your eyes. Flecks of green tinted your iris that stood out in the dark. Alas, your father was apparently the king and your mother plausibly an equally beautiful woman for their unholy union to have happened. 

He flipped a piece of your hair off your collarbone and leaned over so his lips were by your ear. “Then what would a lovely girl like you be doing here other than for pleasure then?”

At this, you shoved Jeonghan away – surprisingly much stronger than he was expecting. He stumbled back, quick to brace himself within a few steps. 

You unsheathed a dagger from your hip and pointed it at him. 

“I assure you, merchant, I am more than capable of taking care of myself,” you spat. 

“Sassy,” Jeonghan chuckled, “Though I would love to entertain the gesture, I’m afraid you have been too much of a nuisance on my to-do list for me to stay and play.”

The space between your brows creased and dipped. Jeonghan noted the way your stance faltered the same. 

“Let me introduce myself,” Jeonghan unclasped the hook on his cloak, unfurling it and throwing it aside, revealing his stark white and gold accent attire underneath. He rolled back his shoulders, readying to unfurl his wings before you. “You were right: I am not a merchant.”

Your breath hitched. You swallowed the lump in your throat harshly. “You talk too much for my liking.”

“You’ve caused me enough trouble for weeks now, at least allow me this dramatic introduction,” Jeonghan teased. He opened his arms and gave you yet another bow, but more humorous this time – as if he was putting on a performance. Jeonghan tugged at a capsule on his belt, golden ropes appearing in his hand. “I’m archangel Yoon – some call me simply, Jeonghan. I’m paying you a visit because a little birdie, or rather several, have informed me of your sins.”

“Lies,” you whispered softly. 

“Oh, but is it?” Jeonghan snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in his opposite hand. He unrolled it, the length nearly reaching the ground. His eyes skimmed across the silver lettering. “Thief, bandit, deceiver, debtor – oh my! Arsonist as well, child?”

Your cheeks grew hot. You were more than aware of the crimes you committed against society and though you hid yourself, it was not out of shame. Nonetheless, this self-proclaimed archangel made you feel so. You had vowed yourself long ago, you wouldn’t let yourself be ridiculed as such. Memories of begging for change and crumbs on the muddy streets on a rainy day, your father, the so-called king casting you out and claiming he did not know you or your mother, flashed before your eyes, fueling the fire in your core. 

Irritated was an understatement when you threw your dagger at Jeonghan, splitting apart his scroll and nearly nailing him in-between his eyes if it wasn’t for his supernatural agility. 

“Now miss, that wasn’t very kind,” Jeonghan whined, “We don’t want to add ‘murderer’ to this list now, do we?” 

You didn’t answer him, only unsheathing another dagger from your belt. 

“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” you said stiffly. “If you knew what was good for you, Archangel Yoon, I suggest you go about your evening – peacefully.”

“You can’t be serious?” Jeonghan snorted. “You, a human, really think you can beat me?” He paused for dramatic effect, his lips curling into a shit-eating grin. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your eyes widen in horror. Immediately, you spun around to retreat inside the brothel. However, Jeonghan was faster – his ropes shackled around your feet, making you tip forward onto your knees. 

“Under the order of Zeus and the heavenly order, you are under arrest and will face punishment for your sins, Miss Y/L/N,” Jeonghan declared. 

“Y/N!” a childish voice suddenly cried out from behind him. 

Jeonghan spun around to find a boy in a tattered robe, set off in a sprint towards you. 

“Hansol! No!” you shouted.

The little brother.

The boy brushed past Jeonghan, his shoulder bumping against the angel’s thigh as he reached for you, wrapping his chubby fingers around your shoulders as best as he could. 

“Stop! Stop! You can’t take her! You can’t take Y/N away!” Hansol spun around, arms splayed around you protectively. “She’s all I have – I will not let you take her!”

“Hansol!” you shoved your brother behind you. “Listen to me, I need you to go–”

He thrashed violently in your hold. “We will not live this life without you, Y/N! 

We?

“The other children and I will not survive!” Hansol cried. Tears welled in his dark brown orbs. They started streaming down his cheek. 

“Hansol, please listen to me,” you swiped at his tears, your own starting to prick along your water lines. 

“Ch-children?” Jeonghan stammered. 

Hansol was wailing now. 

Your gaze shot up at the angel – rage and agony swarming in your eyes. The green he once noticed had turned . . . red. 

“Y-you mean, there’s more than one child?” Jeonghan asked in disbelief. The same turbulence from his time with Joshua earlier began to return to his chest. He had a duty to accomplish, but his heart begged him to not complete it instead. 

“Yes,” you growled, pushing Hansol away from Jeonghan. 

Inside the brothel, the music had ceased as had the laughter, replaced with confused chattering instead. 

“Is that . . . a child?”

“In this part of town?”

“Where are they? W-what are you doing to them?” Jeonghan demanded, his breathing growing shallow. Surely, you had to be some sort of sadistic laborer, right?

Between this new information and the unrest inside, the angel was running out of time to get his answers. If the people of the brothel come out and find him in his true form, it would not only mean a visit to Tartarus, but perhaps death to the humans who did not deserve such fate. 

“She takes care of them, you idiot.”

A figure emerged from the alley. The silhouette transformed into a thin, but built man. His face was seemingly cherubic and cheerful, but his expression was cold. 

“Seungkwan,” you said breathlessly. You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustrated to have brought another person who mattered to you into this quarrel. 

Jeonghan turned to you in disbelief. “Y-you . . . take care of them? The children?”

You had no choice but to answer him, slowly nodding once. 

“B-but that doesn’t make sense,” Jeonghan stuttered, “Y-you’re,” he pointed at the ripped scroll, “The sins, the prayers, but never word of the children – it can’t possibly be?”

Seungkwan kicked at the scroll on the ground. “Newsflash, angel: society sucks and your gods are full of bullshit.”

As the inn door flew open, there was a blur of white and gold. 

Jeonghan unfurled his wings and spun once, vanishing into thin air.

This was Jeonghan’s first sin.

#jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios