#I have no idea who the audience for this is

[spider-swift]

if i had a nickel for every time disney or their associated studios hired a major award winning actress with clear, strong beliefs and morals to portray a character who also embodied those ideas, only to throw them to the wolves when the general public turned on them for no reason, provide them with no protection from a violent and hateful audience, blame them for the failings of their respective studios and the reception to their films, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s really fucked up that it’s happened twice.

[biff-adventurer]

i've seen this post a lot in the past year/s(???) and like. i just don't understand. if you want reach, you share your ao3 posted fic to places like twitter, bluesky, tumblr, etc. people used to write fics on facebook back when i first started rp.

but also, fanfiction is one hobby that can't make you legal money. people try very hard to be known as good writers, or else advertise commissions to others in fandom, but they forget--they're typically writing in a copyrighted world. that's why ao3 doesn't allow you to share on pages that might make you money for writing fanfic.

writing fanfiction can be a serious, thoughtful, artistic undertaking-- it's not below any genre in terms of literary worth. it captures the way the audience of a piece of media feels toward the media, it captures our cultural thinking in the moment, it expresses and, possibly, spreads the love for topics in the media it is referencing. fanfiction has so much inherent worth.

i myself indulge in fanfiction as a literary undertaking. i'm completely serious about it. but in the US, i can't make money off it. again and again, communities must be reminded that benefitting financially from the writing of fanfiction (directly) means playing fire with big corporations who will wage legal wars. i wasn't there during the anne rice saga, but those that were will tell you the horror stories. we don't want to be afraid of posting fanfiction and getting sued for it. ao3 is a godsend when it comes to protecting our rights.

i say this because "reach" echoes this idea that everything we post must be commodified and useful to us in some capital-gaining way, whether that be social or financial. do not post for reach. do not write to be famous. you'll writhe, wither and wail at the pain it causes you.

fanfiction has always been about the people reading and writing it. how do you feel about this work? how do you seethe world these characters are in? why are you telling the story you're telling?

(it doesn't HAVE to be meaningful to be important, it can be completely self-indulgent, it can be cursed, it can be wrong, it can be on any scale of quality just as all writing can be)

please write because you have something to say. because you want to share your daytime reveries and your silliest thoughts. because you want to leave something behind. because you love something and, gods be damned, you have to make more of it because no one else will.

there are as many writers in the world as there are stars in the sky. it's a luck of the draw to get recognition for a work, and it's been that way for a great, long time. so if you write, let it be because you must. because your love of the act compels you. because a dream rooted in vanity will inevitably break you.

writing isn't about status, branding, marketing, or anything like that. don't trap yourself in this notion, and don't let it make you feel superior to anyone. do it for you. do it for the love of you. you will blossom into the person you've always meant to be if you do.

nothing pisses me off more than when i see a fic on ao3 talking about reach. "this ship isn't here but i added them for reach" "this fandom tag isn't necessary but i'm adding it for reach" "reposting for reach" STOP IT!!!! this is not tiktok this is not twitter this is an ARCHIVE this is not how it works!!!

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ stargirl interlude: chapter ii.

wnba!paige x pop star!azzi. men & minors dni.

⋆ 🪩 masterlist.

synopsis: azzi’s one of the industry’s fastest rising stars—a notorious ice princess. she doesn’t pay much attention to the internet, so she’s caught off guard when she finds out who her biggest fan is: world-class athlete paige bueckers, publicly losing her mind over her.

cw: implied mental health issues, fluff, first date, medium burn?, young girls rediscovering themselves and their desires, slight angst, mentions of faith.

notes: hi, my doves. let me know if you enjoyed this. sorry this is a little sad, but azzi is a product of childhood fame. love you. can't wait to see you in my inbox.

II: SECOND SKIN.

“i’d like to work on something different. something that feels more like me.”

azzi watched as her manager’s brow rose, sensed her mother's gaze boring holes deep into her skin. she steadfastly ignored them, focusing instead on the condensation dripping down the plastic body of her iced blueberry matcha. 

the head of the label sat across from her. he was a stout man with a pinched face. it always looked as though he was struggling to breathe. he was kind though, had seen many a pop legend come and go, and seemed to have a soft spot for her ideas, usually called silly, when she presented them to katie on the car ride home.

“you don’t feel any connection to what you’re doing now?” he asked her, and azzi blinked back into the moment.  

“i think i did at some point but,” azzi pursed her lips, then let out a flow of air, “i’m not feeling myself in any of it. i look at the lyrics and open my mouth and nothing comes out. at least nothing i’m proud of.”

the man sat back, green eyes unnervingly bright. she focused on the liver spot that pulled across his neck, mind running as she tried to remember his name. it was something rather clandestine. micheal? murray? 

“what do you feel yourself in?”

azzi looked up from beneath her lashes, her cheeks haloed by her unbrushed curls. she was only in a midi black dress, the straps thick and the neckline square. along her collarbones lay a thin diamond chain with a silver, cursive ‘a’ pendant that swung forward every time she readjusted herself. her feet were encased in faux-leather flats, the small, needlework rosary tattoo she’d gotten on a whim dark and visible.

“i’ve been listening to a lot of indie rock. red hot chili peppers, smashing pumpkins, the teenagers. i like the way i feel when i listen. there’s more room in the writing to sing about what i’m going through, big or small. i’m—” she hesitated. “i’m tired of being a sexy baby.”

“indie rock, huh?” the man said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “i didn’t think kids knew of red hot chili peppers these days.”

azzi smiled, her two front teeth shining white and new. her mother, who had been holding on for a rather impressive amount of time, finally gave her input.

“but she’s not a rockstar, max! she’s a pop star.”

oh, so his name was max. yes, very clandestine. max rolled his neck over to one side as he glanced irritably at katie, his jaw working before he responded. 

“i get that, katie, i really do.” azzi tried not to laugh and took a sip of her matcha. “but reinvention is how these girls stay alive in this world. azzi’s right. people are not looking for the sexy baby thing right now. i mean there’s always an audience, but azzi’s demographic has grown with her. and if she wants her growth to be noticeable, i think it's smart to play up a different image other than discovering that you have a body and desires for the first time.” 

huh, azzi thought. go, max.

he looked back at her, eyed her drink. “need another?’

“sure,” azzi said, her voice quiet but her resolve strong. 

they got up. they took a walk.

⟡

azzi pushed three thick sprays of salt water through the nozzle and into the back of her throat, her nose burning as california brine coated the muscles. then she texted paige. 

» hey, paige. just wanted to touch base about getting coffee this week.

her arms burned when she pressed the meat of them into the metal strings of her bass guitar. she shined it earlier and its teal corpse stared at her, reflecting a distorted image of her face as it begged her to touch it—to raise it from the dead. she felt the feeble spirit of her thirteen-year-old self in the marrow of the instrument, and she focused she could hear her too.  

she hated the message once she sent it. she sounded so out of touch with what it meant to be a young girl, a cool girl. while she waited for paige’s response, her eyes roved over the other girl’s instagram. she cataloged what she knew of her already: she was twenty-five, two years to azzi’s twenty-three, and a well-loved prodigy. she frequented texas, dallas to be specific, due to her current contract. she flew back and forth to new york, apparently helping to coach teenage athletes in her spare time. 

azzi liked that, that the goodness of her heart gave her a reason to plant her feet on new york’s rat-run ground. azzi sometimes worried that she wasn’t good, not even a little bit. 

she lingered on a candid of paige in the pews of a church, the light streaming in through the thin stained glass adorning her with mock sainthood. azzi wondered if it would matter to paige that god tended to put a frog in her throat, that she had removed his hands from around her neck and thighs and was trying to sit next to him without flinching on most days. maybe they would never get there. 

» hey, azzi. yeah, i’m still good for coffee. 

azzi smiled. i wonder if you know how good you make me feel, she thought and then was immediately embarrassed. 

» that’s really good to hear. 

she paused, then sent another message. 

» sorry about saying “touch base”. it was weird.

the response was swift.

» nah, it wasn’t. 

azzi wondered if she should leave it alone, but if she was going to coffee she may as well ensure it wasn’t too awkward. she raised her arms, ignoring the indentations in her skin, and snapped a picture of her guitar. the steel of its strings gleamed; the teal paint seemed to cry. you could see her shadow reach across it. her leg was bent, but visible—tender from her weight being shifted across it for several hours.

» trying to learn how to use her again » going a new direction with my music and i’m kind of really scared 

too honest, she berated herself. paige didn’t seem to think so.

(paige didn’t think so at all. her crystal blue eyes had fallen on the reddened skin of azzi’s knee, on the thin strip of darkness made by the bend of azzi’s leg and the crush of her thigh. her mouth watered, and she redid her ponytail to regain some self-control.)

» u have a voice like an angel, azzi. some things are just meant to be. 

» God knew what He was doing. 

she capitalized God, azzi noted. her mouth twitched into a smile. she liked that. it was a good detail.

» i’m not that religious, but since you are i guess you would know. » sorry that sounded mean, but i don’t mind it. your faith, i mean. please don’t feel bad.

a moment passed and then,

» i don’t know, i just trust. » and i didn’t feel bad. ur not a mean girl. 

azzi laughed out loud then. 

» it’s my desire to know vs my desire to trust, she said.  » see you tomorrow, paige

her phone buzzed one last time. 

» can’t wait. i’ll be looking for u. 

azzi took a deep breath and closed her eyes. she thought hard of california, saw her father in the waves with a hand around her arm—the bone thick with baby fat. she heard something, someone. 

she touched a string. it sang.

⟡

the morning light came in sharp, cutting the shop into bright angles and long shadows. the windows were too clean, the floor polished to a dull shine. it smelled like scorched milk and antiseptic, something artificial masking something else. the kind of place people pretended to not mind, with its ten-dollar oat lattes and plastic baristas. the kind of place azzi used to think she liked.

she had dressed without thinking—well, no. she had thought about it quite a bit, but it was a good fantasy.

a strapless smocked top, tight across her ribs, the fabric shifting when she moved. faded jeans, loose at the hip, cinched with an old leather belt. they slouched low, soft, and worn in the way vintage denim should be, brushing against the tops of her boots. she carried her jacket in one hand, twisted around her fingers like an afterthought. her hair, loose from whatever styling had held it the other morning, fell in soft, uneven spirals. she’d drawn up the top with brown butterfly clips to prevent it from getting into her eyes. 

she looked like someone caught between selves. not quite undone, but close.

her fingers traced the rim of her mug, nails chipped down to uneven edges. the heat of the ceramic barely registered. paige was watching her. not in the way people usually did—calculating, expectant—but with a slow heat closer to patience. like she was trying to understand something. azzi often felt like a ghost within her own body, but now, someone was gazing at her,  not through her.

paige sat with her legs apart, elbows resting on her thighs. it was the kind of posture that helped make her look present without seeming too comfortable. the light made a halo of her, just for a second.

she wore a white, slightly oversized button-down, sleeves rolled up just once—as she did it absentmindedly, not for style. the fabric looked soft; it seemed the kind that came off better the more it was worn. beneath that: dark wash straight-leg jeans, fitted enough to hint at her strength but relaxed to a degree that spoke to her disinterest in the semantics of fashion. they fell heavy at the hem, half-swallowing her vintage nike cortez sneakers. a simple chain encircled her neck, barely noticeable except when the light caught it. a cross, just simple metal.

the image instilled a sense of wonder in azzi. she wanted to ask about it, if it meant anything.

paige grimaced, picking up her vanilla latte with two shots of espresso. "twelve fucking dollars?" she muttered. "for this?"

azzi watched her, something soft developing in her chest. she slightly recognized this feeling. it was like rediscovering a language she'd forgotten she knew how to speak. it began to bleed through her, raw and unfiltered. she worried that it would stain her shirt.

"so," paige said, her voice slipping through the lo-fi hum of someone’s terrible 2010-esque playlist, "tell me something."

azzi blinked. the overhead lights buzzed, too bright, catching on the fine gold chain around her throat. her small scorpio pendant shifted when she swallowed. 

“um, let’s see. i'm twenty-three," azzi started, her words falling into a practiced rhythm. "born in virginia, but lived in california for a while. i miss it there. uh, oh. my favorite color is pink. i have a birthmark shaped like texas on my left hip.” 

paige took another swig of coffee and then looked her dead in the eye. she raised an eyebrow. "you giving me teen beat facts?"

azzi suppressed a smile. she shrugged.

paige leaned in, elbows on the table, hands loose but steady.

"something that doesn’t exist in a press release." a pause. "give me the real you, please."

the words settled between them. the moment stretched, thin and expectant. something about it made azzi want to look away.

she didn’t.

“um,” her voice was quieter now, “i’m terrified of spiders, but i don’t ever want to kill them. i’m allergic to fake gold, and my ears swelled when i got them pierced as a toddler. i can’t cook or bake, but i have a good eye for presentation. i haven’t really written or performed anything i’ve liked in over two years.”

the last bit took her by surprise, but paige’s eyes only softened. she leaned back and swallowed down the remnants of her drink. she put it down and tilted her head, her blonde hair shifting with the movement. her mouth seemed electric as she spoke. 

“i want to take you somewhere. come with me?”

they ended up at a small ethiopian restaurant.

it was tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, where the scent of berbere and spiced butter pulled at the air before the door even opened. inside, the walls were warm-toned, lined with woven baskets and paintings, the floor covered in persian rugs softened and faded by years of footsteps. it hummed with low chatter, the clink of metal trays, and the occasional burst of laughter from a group in the corner.

azzi looked around, a little mesmerized. "this is beautiful."

paige watched her, further endeared. "yeah."

they sat on the floor, low cushions pressed against their backs, a tray of injera and slow-cooked stews set between them. the place was packed, families and couples and groups of friends leaning close, tearing pieces of bread with practiced ease. 

it was intimate in a way that surprised azzi—hands reaching, sharing, dipping.  food was so respected here; the art of the meal and family so centered. she followed paige’s lead, watching her scoop a piece and fold it with practiced ease.

azzi’s first bite made her eyes widen, then flutter closed. "oh my god."

"right?" paige grinned, watching as azzi eagerly took another bite. it was so good, flavored in a way that stuck to your ribs. this was the kind of food you could taste long after you’d left the table.

they stayed like that, across from one another but intersecting as their hands met in the warm rivers of heavily spiced sauce and pots of yellow rice.

at some point, azzi got a bit of sauce on her chin, then her cheek, and paige, without thinking, swiped her thumb over it only to smear it across the bridge of her nose. azzi let out a startled laugh, brown eyes crinkling, and paige smirked.

"you missed a spot."

paige watched as azzi lifted her phone, angling the camera to capture the streak of sauce on her cheek, then her nose. she stuck out her tongue, crossing her eyes in one, then tilted her head slightly, lips parted to reveal her american girl teeth, a mess of curls cradling her face.

"these are so cute," she murmured, voice warm as she tapped through the shots. "i never get to have food on my face."

and it was clearly meant to be funny in an offhanded way, but then azzi’s face flickered—like she’d just realized something. a small thing, but a thing that felt bigger, heavier. her throat tightened, and she hurried to blame it on the spice, but she could tell that paige saw through it, saw the way her fingers flexed like she didn't know what to do with them.

under the table, paige found her hand. squeezed. then, casually, she tore another piece of injera, scooped up some stew, and lifted it to azzi’s full lips—the skin a deep pink and swollen by the flame of peppers.

"here, mama," she said, voice easy. "try this one."

azzi took the bite, chewed, and swallowed. she exhaled, slow. paige didn’t let go of her hand.

before they left, the owners took a polaroid for the wall of customers. azzi insisted they take two, so they could have their own. in the photo, azzi was mid-laugh, eyes bright, sauce still dotted on her nose. paige stood beside her, relaxed in a way she didn’t even realize, watching azzi like she had a secret within that she didn’t know yet.  like she always had.

they didn’t decide who would get to keep it officially, but it ended up in the back of azzi’s phone. a pale copy sat in paige’s gallery. azzi pocketed the second polaroid, running a thumb over the glossy surface. something shifted inside her, loose and warm. 

later, on the train home, she tucked her legs beneath her in the seat and hummed under her breath. a melody had given birth inside of her—new, half-formed, and fighting. words came to her unbidden, stale lyrics made better by the fact that she was trying again.

she murmured into her phone’s voice memo app. she held up the phone to paige’s mouth and asked her to speak. paige smiled, tender with joy, and protested that she didn’t know what to say.

“it’s not the real thing,” azzi assured her. “you can say anything.”

paige hummed and then,

“will you get another coffee with me?” 

azzi grinned, her body trembling. she lowered her feet to the floor and leaned over until her head fell onto paige’s shoulder. she picked up paige’s hand and turned it over so that the pale palm was open and exposed. she traced nine letters into the skin.

yes, please.

paige closed her hand and kept her there. 

azzi hummed from the station to her apartment. even the clink of her keys into their designated bowl seemed on-key. 

it was a song. her song. the first in a long time. she could’ve sobbed. 

thank god, she thought, that i remember how to sing.

⟡

voguescandinavia: azzi fudd has a new approach: “i want to keep going to places where i don’t know anyone or anything. i tend to find myself there.”

a black and white portrait accompanied the tweet. azzi's face was slightly turned, wind-blown wisps of her natural curls catching across her cheekbone. her expression was borderline intense, almost vulnerable—eyes looking slightly off-center, not quite meeting the camera.

she wore a simple white tank top, and her skin was slightly tanned, with shadows and bits of sand dusted along parts of her face. the background was indistinct, a blurred landscape suggesting openness, motion. her gaze penetrated.

it was silently understood that she wasn’t performing, but truly present.

the reception was overwhelmingly kind, warm. but only one mattered.

trending simple and proud:

pbueckersofficial: angel falls short but swear it’s her true form 🩶🎙️

on her private account, her heart to mouth filter had failed. the same picture, quote retweeted but with different wording: 

pbuckets5: i want to run away. make a world of just you and me. somewhere between the city lights and the way you breathe—i'm desperate to understand everything.

her teammates' immediately lit up her notifications.

karnold: girl what is happening  aubrey: wait what.   janaaa: oh. drewbuckets: paige poetry era??

azzi, almost half asleep, saw the public thread. smiled. then quote-tweeted:

azzi35: i'd like to stay on earth for another coffee with you 🕊️

the internet imploded. 

username: they actually hang out?!  username: paige bueckers and azzi fudd interacting again??? this is not a drill  uconnsports: we're witnessing history  ⤷ username: who is the intern running this page lmfao username: the way they're speaking about each other?? its giving legacy love story i fear karnold: y’all don’t you worry, we got somebody checking on paige cause she may actually be dead idk

and trending worldwide: #bueckersfudd2028.

⟡

azzi went to sleep. in her dreams there was a stage, but no microphone. azzi opened her mouth and extended a hand to the sole person in the audience. from her mouth burst three pink butterflies. 

teach me, they said with every pump of their wings. please, teach me.

the woman stood from her seat. her hair was so blonde it was almost white. she looked at azzi with her sharp blue gaze, touched her own throat, and then stepped forward to press into azzi’s skin. the heat from her fingertips spiraled up into azzi’s mouth until she felt so warm that she thought her bones might melt into ash and milk. 

the woman cupped her cheek. from her heart a beat; from her mouth a word. 

azzi, she said. her mouth was closed. God himself opened your mouth and placed music on your tongue.

azzi, she said. sing.

© hcneymooners.

[ohcorny]

yoinking this idea from friend kate widdershins because i also love taskmaster and have a cast of (mostly) british problem solvers.

for the record, emery would be the only one who dressed in a costume for the tasks, as a classic Little Sailor Boy. wick and neeta dressed normally. honeycutt wore a suit.

neeta should win but she talks back to greg too many times and it ends up being wick. audiences are in uproar.

[sugar-petals]

every time i see him pop up on my dash i’m impressed by how taemin (who else) has debuted and effortlessly resonated in several generations of his genre and remains so bewitchingly relevant. yes i know manwhoring and the dark side of catholicism plus dissecting masculinity/femininty will never go out of fashion and he dances more compellingly than 99% of his peers and his looks never seem to change ever and he works his butt off but you know what i mean: 

an inexplicable longevity. without scandal, lack of sympathy from fans, missing the mark, error, mediocrity. all while provoking thought. taemin’s ultraglittering, seductive musical staying power slash a remarkably consistent message — how on earth does he vary his aesthetic but always manages to express HIS idea?— and drive to do what he does are mysteriously singular. and it’s not just his jesus-honoring buttshaking alright. to use the first gen benchmark, without slighting either of these artists: he is the legacy and work of BOA and Rain in one. seamless even after his difficult enlistment, taemin always keeps going and going and innovating and serving looks and performing and enchanting. 

i don’t mean that in a way of “tch why has taemin not fallen from grace yet?? he’s too goody-two-shoes to be true!” or “this dude must be a cash-hungry slaving robot who uses sex to sell as a sleazy capitalist trick!!”. i just sincerely think he’s done so well, everything else would be unfair and inaccurate to say. enviably, taemin really found his own thing, that inspires. it’s no surprise how every shawol/taemin fan is just on fire (and every phobic tongue that rises against him shall be hilariously ridiculed without even bothering much: i like this idgaf attitude in the fandom, it resembles him a lot lol). can’t blame anybody, one hand movement by that cheeky guy, you’re hooked. 

i simply wanted to stress how taemin pulled off sticking around against the odds, being a charmed personality, and electrifying a multi-generational, multi-gender crowd and look damn sharp while doing it: even with a soft, sweet tenor voice such as his. we really have to thank jonghyun in all regards, whatever he has instilled in taemin was, and we all know that, zero percent in vain. it has given him a huge portion of that “X-factor” (or ‘T’-factor in this case lmao), in front of the camera that only the greats have, far beyond just doing ‘attempted personal branding aaand done, retired, forgotten’.

even if yes, that still contributes on the hard-to-ignore business side, SM knew how to do one thing right after all. we don’t know idols personally still, and taemin clearly found his perfect niche, giving the audience what other artists desperately cannot offer on that ‘market’, if you want to put it like that. but either way, he seems much more than the industry in a way? and MJ/Prince, for that matter, despite an obvious inspiration? like a feeling. or musing. really, how does he do it 😭

taemin’s success, fan-favorite status and concept ahead of the curve is so difficult to explain and that’s probably why people enjoy him and his work: it is curated, not calculated. i think there’s huge difference, even if the production process is the same or similar everywhere. but the way most idols are fascinated by taemin says it all basically, he’ll be talked about for decades after and always come back successfully, gaga-style. ngl taemin could never bore me (am i the only one who still positively loses it when he hits the pose? i never found it annoying, i love that shit) it’s so easy to like what he does. his enigma makes him an artist, and i hope he’ll be around for long to spread his cheeky little mischief.

TLDR; i just wanted to emphasize how awesome taemin is and got totally carried away.

[izzysbeans]

i just read a mainstream article about the show and there are so many comments of people being hommophobic it's hilarious i can't these people have no idea how funny they are

"this show doesn't need another gay character!!!!"

"they've already made buck bi!!!! STOP this NOW!!!"

dude this tv show has had a tornado made of BEES and you're mad that queer people exist? shows don't "need" anything, they're shows! if you don't like it just leave! GOD.

also this is a great example of why i keep saying that even tho a show has queer characters it doesn't mean it can't queerbait: a lot of homophobic audiences will tolerate a character being gay, if that character is disclosed as gay as soon as they appear on screen, because they will choose not to relate to that character. If you have a character discover their queerness as the show goes on, these people will ralate to that character and than be mad when that character turns out to be queer because "I'm not queer so this character i like/relate to can't be!". I've literally seen people say that if the show makes eddie gay, they will stop watching because this show "doesn't need another gay character" and eddie is "straight" so it will be the last straw for them.

The point of queerbaiting is to make queer people believe a character is going to discover they are queer to keep them hooked, but never commit to it so they don't alienate the homophobic audience watching it. THIS is the homophobic audience!! the same people oliver called out when 7x04 happened! they have tolerated hen and karen and josh and michael because that is what they do: they tolerate the existence of queer people, but only in specific cases. They don't actually want queer people on their screens. And that is exactly why we need more characters like buck, more slowburns, more queer characters who get the same treatment as straight couples have gotten for YEARS. Sorry for the rant but i get the "stop saying it's queerbaiting because there's queer characters on the show so it can't be" argument all the time and it sucks because all these homopobic assholes who are out there have found it in them to sort of tolerate a few gay characters on tv after years of us not even existing in media or being the butt of the joke if we did, and instead of continuing to push for more characters and normalizing our existence, people who say that argument are just catering to that homophobic audience that is ALWAYS just one queer character's awakening away from lashing out about how much they hate us and how tv is "shoving gays down their throats" and "making their children gay" or whatever. I'm tired of it and i really hope 9-1-1 makes the decision here to be better and continue pushing for more. Having two main characters who were not established as queer early on, have a slowburn romance is something HUGE that has never really happened before

[sunshinefloortime]

tbh I don’t hate Tommy bc tbh mf is working HARD to lay the groundwork for Buddie…

plot device for Buck’s bi-awakening

plot device for Josh’s speech about having sympathy and understanding for men who had their sexual awakening but weren’t comfortable coming out so tried to make it work with women instead (and also Glee)

plot device to introduce the idea of Buddie to the GA in 8x11

plot device to introduce the idea that Eddie might not be straight to the GA in 8x11

These are all things that need to happen to prepare the audience for Buddie and Tommy is checking ✅ them ✅ off ✅

[junkdrawerfan]

Absolute CRACK BatFic Idea:

An AU where Tim knows Batman needs a Robin and discovers (somehow) that Bruce Wayne has a biological son and sets out on a quest to kidnap Damian into become the new Robin.

It’s like “Fine! Dick doesn’t want it and Jason’s dead. If Bruce Wayne needs a son to turn into Robin, I’m going to go get him one!”

Too competent, no awareness Tim Drake (very fandom Tim Drake I know but listen…. It’d be funny!) hacking into the League of Assassin computers (sneaks into the cave during Bruce’s solo patrols to connect his personal laptop to get access to the BatNet) so he can talk to Damian (small boi, very sweet, was never taught internet safety because who the fuck could be talking to him on the LoA’s intranet!) and get his location.

Tim waiting months, befriending Damian the whole time, until Talia takes Damian to one of the Leagues’ European safe houses, all the while promising Damian that he’s his friend and he wants to meet but his mom is too protective.

Tim: you can’t tell her. She’ll make us stop talking.

Damian: but what if I convince her we’re friends?

Tim: hmmm let’s wait until I can see you in person! That way we can convince her together!

Maybe they’re in Paris (it’s always Paris) when Tim meets and admits the reason he’s talking to Damian is because he knows his dad who sent him to bring him home (lie).

“I’m friends with his eldest son,” Tim says, you know… like a liar. (But he did snap a selfie with Dick for this exact purpose because oh holy contingencies Batman. “I can take you to your dad.”

And Damian is unsure and resists but than Tim points out Talia never tells Damian when he’ll get to see his dad. “And isn’t taking initiative something encourages by the LoA, Dami?”

Anyway, Tim gets Damian on that plane fast enough (and with Damian’s help and Tim’s tech savvy sneakily enough) to avoid the ninjas. Until it’s 8 hour later and Tim is knocking on the door (he’d tricked Dick into visiting for the weekend because he knows he’s going to need the older boy to smooth all this over) like “TA-DA! NEW SON ALERT!”

Cue fallout and Dick and Bruce quickly realizing they’ve got two new kids in the house because Talia is going to have to pry sweet baby, naive, adorably arrogant 6 year old Damian from Bruce’s cold dead fingers and also “Oh my god we need to fix this little stalker neighbor boy before he becomes a new rogue.”

(Side Note: this could so easily be a horror fic from limited POV like from Damian’s POV :D where the audience doesn’t know who Damian is talking to while he’s being stalked and eventually kidnapped. Until the end it’s revealed to be Tim who’d have never hurt Damian and actually did bring him to Gotham to meet Bruce!)

[arbitrarity]

ooo it's interesting that there are so many different meanings of reduplication even just in this post

(k sorry for the ramble. I usually just post my responses to stuff like this that @ihasafandom sends me on here in our personal chat, but this one got long. plus ihasa sometimes says I should post some of my long rambles, so why not :P also I am taking a quick break from re-writing a school paper and so I am both wanting distraction and easily in writing-mode, so this is what happened. oops!)

"like" vs. "like like" = distinguishing between two meanings of the word, platonic liking and romantic liking.

"spicy spicy" and "fancy fancy", on the other hand, I feel like is reduplication contrasting intensity, based on subjective interpretation of those words. but where like "is it spicy/fancy based on a more broad definition of what that means, or would it still be considered spicy/fancy to someone who's used to spicy/fancy things?" i feel like it's not solely intensification because "spicey-spicey" is greater than the first instance of "spicy" in the same sentence, which is now less-than, but they are both encompassed within the broader term "spicy". and that feels different to the first example with "like", which doesn't seem to me to simply contrast "like me a little" vs. "like me a lot".

then the "milk milk" idea is similarly referring to a subset of the larger set of all things that are encompassed by the same meaning of "milk", but instead of being more "intense" it is more prototypical - more 'milk-like' - as pointed out by allthingslinguistic

Is the Bantu example of "REAL leg" the same? it's hard to tell what "real" could mean here. is it contrasting something more typically leg-like to something less so? or is there maybe a distinction of animacy -- contrasting between "human/animal leg" versus like "table leg"? that difference could also instead be 'real' vs. 'metaphorical', where the second is serving a leg-like function, but isn't technically a leg. I wonder. that's sort of like the 'prototypical' meaning of reduplication, but still slightly different if its 'real' vs. 'metaphorical/has x-like characteristics'.

then we get into those three modifications on english reduplication. the baby-talk doesn't seem to have any meaning difference, just an audience-direction one. the rhyming stuff "teeny weeny" and "super-duper" are straight intensification. while the "fancy-smanshy" is dismissive of the first part. so interesting! languages are weird :D

So you know what I don’t get? Why people repeat words. (x)

[nebulablakemurphy]

Haymitch Abernathy & The Dead Donner Girl (Part 2)

Summary: Haymitch is forced to mentor the niece of his former ally, aka the prequel to all things Moves & Countermoves. (Warning: Sunrise on the Reaping spoilers.)

Part 1

Haymitch knows it is bad when he’s summoned by letter to the Capitol, the week before Y/N’s victory tour. He knows it is worse when Snow wants to recap her interview following the games.

“Well I didn’t win because I was the smartest, or the strongest, or even because I deserved it the most.”

“Then how did you do it, Y/N?” Caesar leans in, “we’re all dying to know.”

“I won because someone loved me.”

“Aww.” The audience coos.

“Tyson was more than my ally, he was my friend. He protected me. He deserves to be here today, not me.”

“I don’t know how true that is,” Caesar says.

“I think if we all loved each other; everyone in the districts and everyone in the Capitol, maybe we wouldn’t need the games to remind us of the rebellion. If we all love each other, why would anyone rebel?”

“How sweet,” Caesar holds a hand to his heart. “What a sweet girl.”

The audience roars with applause.

“I have no idea what the future holds, for any of us. But I would very much like to be your friend.” Caesar tells her.

Y/N smiles and nods, extending her hand to him. “Of course.”

“She wants to end the games.” Snow tuts, “didn’t you warn her what a careless mouth could do?”

“I haven’t spoken to her,” Haymitch admits. “I’ll get her under control before the tour.”

The man hums. “I’m not sure you can.”

“All I’m asking for is a chance.”

At this the older man smirks. “If I grant you the opportunity to correct her behavior, what are you willing to give me in return?”

“Anything.” Haymitch decides.

“Does loyalty to your former ally run so deep that you would do anything to save a girl you can’t even bear the sight of, simply because she is her kin?” President Snow cocks his head to the side.

“I guess it does.” It’s all for you, sis.

Coriolanus steeples his hands on the desk before him. “A car will be sent for you this evening, I have something special in mind for your retribution. Be sure to wear something nice.”

“Nice?” You want me to dress up to be tortured?

“Suit and tie,” Snow nods.

“Fine, alright.” Haymitch agrees.

“And moving forward, do keep her contained. I know you’d hate for her to join you.”

Haymitch purses his lips, where the hell are you sending me?

————————————————————————

“Man, I wish you had to do this instead of me.” Y/N laments, arranging flowers against Tyson’s headstone.

“Little girl, there’s a train rollin’ in for you.” Tyson’s mother, Cherry reminds her.

“I’m aware.” Y/N sighs, turning to face the woman.

“You be good now, ya hear? Remember who you are.”

“Yes, Mrs. Cherry.”

“That’s Ma to you.” The woman taps her chin, affectionately. Tears welling up in her eyes.

“Yes, Ma.” Y/N forces a smile. She can’t cry now or she’ll never stop.

“Wish we coulda met you different, but I’m glad to know you all the same.”

Y/N allows herself to be pulled in for a chaste hug. “Me too.”

“Make us proud.” Make our boy proud.

“I will.” Y/N takes off, out the side gate. Purposely skirting Tyson’s father, Tucker, and his siblings, in an attempt to keep her composure. Racing home to her house in Victor’s Village.

Haymitch is back. The lights in his house are on next door.

She wonders where he ran off to, but Haymitch never tells her anything. Still she pushes through the open door of his house. “Knock, knock.”

No answer. She finds her mentor passed out on the dining room table. “Haymitch, it’s tour day.” Again nothing, he doesn’t even stir. Hesitantly, she reaches for his shoulder, giving it a jostle.

“AHHHHHHH!” The man springs to his feet, knife at the ready.

“Haymitch,” Y/N holds up her hands, “it’s just me.”

“Why are you here?” He blinks rapidly, attempting to settle his nerves. He’s not in the arena, not in that house in the Capitol where he had to-

“It’s tour day.” She reminds him, before turning on her heel to leave.

“Wait.” Haymitch calls after her, “wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You need to be careful.”

“Careful how?” Y/N asks, “I’m not kissing Snow’s ass in front of the people whose kids he just killed.”

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

“You want me to sell out?”

Haymitch slams his fist against the table. “People are going to die. If you say the wrong thing, people are going to die.”

“Haymitch, they believe in what I’m saying about the games. They-”

“Aren’t going to stand between you and Snow if it comes to that. Nobody is gonna do that but me!” That’s never been more clear.

“I never asked you to!” Y/N shouts back, “I don’t want to be responsible for what happens to you.”

“And you think it was my dream to become responsible for you? Whether you live or die? You think I want that on me?”

“Then let the peacekeepers take me off your hands. A public execution ought to be enough to stop whatever I’ve started.”

“I made a promise!” Haymitch snaps. “I promised Maysilee that I would take care of her family. Bang up job I’m doing, already lost Merrilee.”

A promise like that is something Y/N understands very well. “That wasn’t your fault, what happened to her.”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was.” Haymitch digs the soles of his hands into his tired eyes.

The silence hangs heavy between them.

“Look, I won’t say anything reckless.” Y/N whispers, “just stop blaming yourself. You tried your best to keep your promise, Maysilee would understand.”

————————————————————————

Vanity arrives, zipping her victor into a lime green dress with feathers around the neckline and wrists. When she is deemed camera ready, Y/N is escorted to the stage in front of the justice building. Y/N bounces into view, clutching what appears to be cards in her hand.

President Snow shifts in his seat, waiting for a proper performance.

The victor finds the cameras, waving them closer with a smile.

What’s your play? Coriolanus leans toward the projection.

The shot tightens to the words scrawled on her index card. ‘I’m sorry! I lost my voice.’

Y/N taps her throat for emphasis.

You

little

shit.

———————————————————————-

President Snow sends a doctor to assess Y/N in district eleven.

“Her throat is raw and her vocal cords are inflamed, other than that she appears healthy. It’ll be at least a week before she can speak again.”

What have you done?

The tour must go on. Without a voice booming from the microphone, the fallen tributes from each district are able to speak for themselves. With no sweet words to sugarcoat and glorify their crimes, the Capitol is forced to own what they’ve done. After all, how can she say the wrong thing if she says nothing at all?

Y/N grins and waves, blowing kisses to the crowd and paying special attention to the cameras.

Haymitch says nothing about her antics, all he can do is sell the lie. But in this lie, there is some truth. Y/N cannot speak. Not in any meaningful way, not in the only way she would.

Punishment for this act will surely come, but for now she is free.

Miraculously, Y/N’s voice returns just in time for her tour to end, in the heart of the Capitol. The audience for Caesar Flickerman’s show is packed full, practically overflowing into the aisles.

“It is such a pity that you didn’t get to speak in any of the districts. I, for one, was eager to hear your speeches.”

Y/N makes a show of unwrapping her cough drop and popping it into her mouth. “Well Caesar, laryngitis is no joke. If I could have spoken, you know I would have.”

“Of course, of course.” Caesar smiles, “we are so happy that your voice has returned in time to see us all here tonight.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Y/N tells him.

————————————————————————

Two years pass and Haymitch does not speak to her, the girl whose noose hangs around his neck, in lieu of her own. Mercifully she leaves him alone.

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

The pounding on his door alerts Haymitch to the fact that the dead Donner girl is back with a vengeance. Only she would dare to visit him on his birthday. His eyes remain cast downward, looking anywhere but at her. “Can I help you?”

“I’m hoping you can.”

She sounds different. Older.

Curiosity gets the best of him and he looks at her, for the very first time. Because she has outgrown her nickname, too old and too alive to be the ‘dead Donner girl.’

This is the girl the Capitol can’t wait to get their hands on? This is the girl men fall to their knees for? Who he’s spent the past three years in servitude to? This is Y/N? “I imagined you’d be different.”

Y/N crosses both arms over her chest, “that’s what eyes are for.”

Pain in my ass. “What do you want?”

“You, actually.” Y/N informs him, “come mentor with me.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” Haymitch can’t help but laugh.

“Because I need you.”

“Laying it on thick there.”

“And,” Y/N raises her brows, “because you’re one of the few people I can trust.”

Haymitch shifts between feet, uncomfortably.

“Allies?” The girl offers, holding out her hand.

Haymitch sighs, looking up towards the sky. For you, sis. “Don’t make me regret this.”

[meatgrinder-0]

something that ive found myself thinking about a lot recently is the loss of autonomy that you have over your identity and what makes you "human" when you die.

(as has been said before by multiple different people) technically ford does not die when he goes through the portal, but as many have said at this point--in a metaphysical way when he goes through the portal he is dead in the eyes of his dimension, so i find in the narrative he experiences a similar loss of his humanity and in the same way that might've occurred with his death, his memory for any that have access to any form of it constructs him into an idea rather than a person.

and really anything can be said and done with him by the people who are still "alive" when this occurs. since he is in all aspects dead people can use him to justify their actions, as a figure in their concepts, and imagine him up to be whoever they want him to be for as long as he remains dead. the audience of course also partook in these same things prior to his reveal by theorizing about what type of person he was or how he might fit into the narrative as a person but to be more specific to examples of this idea in the show is how stan and dipper see ford as an idea.

due to being absent ford had no possible way to influence what stan thought he would want him to do about the portal outside of his existing warnings in his journals so stan is able to twist ford into a justification to work towards opening the portal, and during the length of his work on it according to alex's statements about stan "expecting ford to be weak and in need of help when he came out of the portal" (i feel the likely useless need to say whatever a creator says about their work is always only as canon as one wants it to be but this is worth mentioning here and i think it makes sense contextually within the text) the ford who comes back is so jarring because in his "death" he's become an ideal of what stan wants to see in him to play into his hero fantasy and hopes of earning back his appreciation

and of course as i think about a normal amount of times per day--the duration of the show presents the author as a figure that is wrapped up in a concept of ford while presenting him in a much more mythical format--another one of gravity falls' mysteries. pretty much every main character that isnt stan views him in this mystical light throughout the show with dipper being the prime example and uses the idea of "the author" as a driving force to pursue the questions that the town begs them to ask. there is something to be said about how creators of the show refer to journal 3 as "its own character" in a way that clearly separates it from it's author. even outside of the universe of the show itself, even in the show's own writing team ford--somehow despite being already being only a concept by virtue of being fictional--is stripped of humanity and becomes an even further abstracted concept.

but even to the ford who is alive the self who had gone through the portal is also a concept. i know this idea isnt explored much in canon if at all but bear with me here while i make shit up for fun--in a way, we ourselves the way we are now are dying near constantly. when we wake up each morning we of course have access to the same memories and the same body and the same experiences as the self we were before we fell asleep, but if we were to get existential, how can we be sure that we are the same consciousness that we were before?

even if this is a bit too absurd of a concept to be applying to a messy braindump "analysis" of a fictional character theres something about how extreme change in a person (often from trauma as ford has experienced for Obvious reasons) or even just the passage of time leaves the former self as nothing more but a memory to even the body that it once inhabited.

as i said theres not much to connect this to in the canon of the text, but i do believe that ford does see his past self who wrote the journals as an idea just as much as anyone else in his life did.

[williamaltman]

On Lochlan, his sexuality and incest

Ok, so the following text was written with reddit in mind, so my tone is a bit more... idk, serious and cautious than it usually is, but I decided to post it here as well, cause this whole topic has been eating me up. I'm also aware that I'm kinda preaching to the choir when it comes to how tumblr sees this situation, but still.

Ok, so I was thinking of waiting for the end of the season to talk about this, but to be honest it's been kind of driving me mad.

For a while now, there has been debate about what exactly is going on with Lochy and his relationship with his brother and what exactly is the truth behind this whole situation. After all the debate about him supposedly being an evil predator who spit the pill (which he didn't!) so he could take advantage of Saxon, it seems that now most people have settled on "he was just genuinely trying to help and the handy was bad but not actually incestuous in nature", and I kind of understand why because this is pretty much how the actor is explaning his character away, but I'm gonna be honest, I don't think that's really the case.

I don't want to discredit Sam entirely, cause I do believe that actors' opinions matter as it affects how they play things, but he's still not the writer/director/anything with actual input in the story, and both he and Patrick have also said that Mike White decided to leave things up for interpretation, and he hasn't given any interviews or explained his thoughts himself (well, apparently he mentioned something about a "gay storyline that is truly satanic", as that's mentioned in a couple articles, and if that is true, the fact that he's even referring to it as a gay storyline kinda supports my point).

I actually agree with most of what Sam has said, which is that Lochy is a people pleaser who is desperate for approval and attention. As of these last few episodes, he has basically followed his brother's lead and done everything that Saxon has told him to. I do believe he did not have any malicious intentions.

However, this doesn't necessarily negate the idea of him being sexually attracted to him. I think the way Sam talks about it, as well as a large part of the audience, comes from the idea that it has to be either one of two extremes: Either Lochy is a creep and a freak and predatory, or he's actually just a teenager helping out his brother in a no homo way... Which honestly just doesn't compute.

If you pay attention, there has been a lot of stuff suggesting Lochy is queer. Whether he's gay or bi I don't know, and I don't think it really matters, but I just can't possibly think he's straight. I'm gonna list all the ways that I think indicate that, and I will warn that some will probably be considered a reach by some, but others imo are very clear, and I ask you to read this with an open mind.

1 - From the beginning, he has the dilemma of going to Duke or Tar Heel for college. As in, will he follow the same path as the men of his family or the women. He doesn't know himself. This could mean different things, like does going to Duke makes him more masculine like his father and brother, or does it mean that he's choosing their side as in... choosing men? And vice-versa. Not like it's an actual choice, but again, as a storytelling device.

2 - Both his parents (but particularly the dad, I think) are adamant on him fixing his posture. Straightening his spine. Making him stand up straight. Saxon also encourages this, on the same situations where he encourages him to hook up with women or drink his protein shakes to get buff.

3 - If you think the last point is a reach, in the very session that he takes for said issue, the therapist tells him that he sits in a defensive posture because he's "protecting himself with his female side."

4 - He's the one who notices the "ladyboys" and asks "Dad, are they women?". When Saxon makes his joke about them, "you never know which one is gonna have nuts", he looks visibly uncomfortable. He tries to laugh at it like he does with most of his jokes, but for that one he can't. You can see that he's affected.

On his mother's dream, she also sees him sitting with two "ladyboys" as he talks about the tsunami.

5 - When Saxon is getting drinks for them on the Full Moon Party, he says "pink one for the lady" and tries to hand it to Chelsea. When she refuses and goes to take her call, Lochy takes it instead.

Now, to kinda go back on the Saxon/incest-related.

If you're a straight guy, losing your virginity to a woman, would you really be so focused on jerking off another man? Even if it's like, some guy you really like such as your best friend or your brother? I don't know. And he didn't seem to be actually that interested in Chloe to me. Not grossed out either, so I don't think he has to be gay necessarily rather than bi/pan/whatever, but still.

Chloe also mentioned how young virgin guys get all flustered and shaking with their hearts beating rapidly when they take off their clothes and etc, that she wanted that kind of attention. Yet we don't see any kind of excitement from Lochy over her, really. If you look at Saxon's memories, Lochy only smiles when he's looking at Saxon and Saxon looks like he's about to come (as he jerks his body up).

Going back to the first episode... Many people have rationalized that scene as not really being sexual. I know what Sam has said about it on interviews, too. But I just don't think it checks out. There is a real focus on Saxon being naked and Lochy staring at him. That soundtrack, which seems to be one that plays when something kind of spicy and perhaps unsettling is happening, starts playing right as we get the shot of Saxon walking naked with his ass on full display. It continues as Lochy is looking at him.

And then Saxon notices, and even him, who has no boundaries and was talking about porn and sex, seems a little freaked out when he does. As Saxon closes the door, Lochy looks like he's either embarrassed for being caught looking, disappointed that he closed the door, or both.

And then on episode 2 we have the scene of him waking up. And again the first thing he sees is Saxon's ass, and then he goes wash his face and looks in the mirror. Yeah, this isn't quite proof of anything, but what is the purpose of the scene then, why was it written and shot and kept in the final edit? Especially when you consider it in addition to the previous one.

And lastly, spoiler alert, in one of the trailers/promos,there are scenes where he says to Piper "I don't want to give in to my dark shit" and "if everyone gave in to their base instincts, it'd be total depravity."

If he does not have any incestuous feelings for Saxon, what is this "dark shit" he has in him that he's talking about? For the second one there could be some other context, but even then it seems like he's thinking of his own "base instincts" as depraved.

To go back to what Sam has been saying on interviews a bit, I think a lot of it comes from the fact that he wants to defend Lochy and believe that he's a good person, especially after the reactions to episode 5 where so many people were saying that Lochy was a creep, a predator, some kind of evil mastermind/manipulator and theorizing that he had spit out his pill and was perfectly sane.

I think he feels the need to defend him and not paint him in such a negative light, and because incest is a thing that is considered, well, bad by most people, he's denying that as well. In another interview he also said actors need to find a way to love and connect with the character no matter what, and I think this is a big part of it, not seeing him as fully incestuous if one thinks that incest is something irredeemable.

Both he and many people watching also seem to think that Lochy thinking of the handjob or even the kiss as him wanting to make Saxon happy and impressed automaticaly negates him being attracted to him and having any other feelings about it, but that isn't necessarily the case. It can be both, it makes sense that it's both imo, and I think that's part of what makes him and this storyline as a whole so interesting, that there are so many layers to it.

But in my mind, with all of the context we have for the character in relation to both his relationship with Saxon and in regards to how his own identity and individual arc is portrayed, I think Lochy is definetely queer, and indeed attracted to his brother. And when you put these two things together, it can easily be explained as something similar to, if not straight up the same thing, as the Oedipus/Electra complex.

Lochy, even though he's legally an adult at 18, is clearly still developing in many ways, including his sexuality, and Saxon is the closest male figure in his life, not to mention one who's showing up naked in front of him and talking about sex.

If you're grossed out by it and want it to be explained away, or get some comfort about it in general, I think it would make sense for him to sort of grow out of that as he gets older and more secure in himself/his sexuality, especially after the confusion and guilt he feels over what he did as seen in the monastery scene when he remembers things.

[yanderedrabbles]

About the bride kidnapping thing. While I understand that the idea is very cool, I would advise against specifically having it be the Kyrgyzstani tradition. When it comes to showing these sorts of traditions in fiction, unless you’re part of that culture or well informed on the issue it’s easy to accidentally portray harmful stereotypes. Vice in particular has made documentaries about minority cultures that blow issues out of proportion to portray them as backwards (I don’t know about this documentary because I haven’t seen it). Point is that this could end up going very badly. With that said it would be cool if there’s a family of yanderes or yandere town who have the tradition of kidnapping their children’s beloved.

I'm really glad you brought this up anon. It sort of has me wondering about the "should you write outside your culture" debate. And where the line between cultural appreciation and cultural appropriation lies.

In media, lots of cultures and cultural practices get boiled down to the sensational; orientalism, fetishization of the other, the idea of the "exotic."

How should we respond to that as writers and creators? The obvious answer is to do research, to treat foreign cultures with all the nuance and care they deserve. ("Foreign" being relative of course, what's strange to you might be pretty mundane to me).

But it's not quite so simple. Lot's of us are writing from positions of privilege. Can we speak on cultural issues as well as someone from a minority community can? Are our voices overshadowing the people we claim to be representing?

This is especially tricky in fiction. Do we have the right to take someone else's culture and use it for our own entertainment?

Conversely, do we have a duty to be representative in our writing? On the one hand, your readers should be able to see themselves in your writing. Plenty of us grew up without really seeing our peers or our culture in the media. It's alienating. If I have the platform to ease some of that alienation, shouldn't I use it?

On the other hand, I can't always do these things justice. No matter how much research you do, nuance can still be hard to grasp. Furthermore, using foreign culture in my work can very much be seen as manipulative. Using minority identities to grow my audience. Pandering. Placating.

It's a difficult thing to balance. And largely influenced by personal ideas of identity and culture. I don't talk that much about my country, but it's very multicultural. Intersections not just of race, but of ethnicity, religion and language. Engaging in traditions and beliefs outside your own are a given.

I think that's a big factor behind my work. Usually my yanderes aren't any particular race or nationality, but I've made plenty of exceptions. I've written characters from different countries and cultures. I've written different sexual orientations and races.

Do I get it right all the time? Hell no.

I've had so many incredible readers point out my errors and give me advice when it comes to dealing with culture in my writing.

I think that's beautiful. I think that's the best way to interact with cultures outside your own - listen and learn and admit when you get it wrong.

In terms of ala kachuu, I was actually hoping to ask my Kyrgyz followers to beta read the fic before I publish it, given the nature of the topic.

I'm curious where you guys stand on the topic though - especially if you're a POC. Does a writer's background matter? Should they stick to what they know or should they write outside their experience?

[buddiesbuddiess]

Sometimes I don’t think we as a fandom give the general audience enough credit tbh. They’re often referred to as this nebulous monolith, a brainless mass of NPCs, but in actuality they are human beings with eyes, ears and working brains. Most of those human beings know at least on a surface level how to pick up what a story is putting down.

The only difference between them and us is that we are insane about this show and relentlessly analyse and pick apart every detail.

Yes, there are a minority of loud homophobes in that audience, as we saw after 7x04. But what happened after 7x04? Did the show tank in ratings and suffer because actually everyone who watches it is homophobic despite having multiple queer main characters since season 1? No. The show is doing better than ever since then and still going strong.

I mean FFS we literally had a gay hookup scene in the last episode. I don’t think they’re scared of losing homophobes.

Realistically the show has been subtly signposting a romance between Buck and Eddie for two seasons now - and since 8x09 it has begun LOUDLY signposting that romance. And if they truly didn’t trust their general audience and believed going ahead with Buddie was going to tank their ratings, they wouldn’t have introduced the idea to the show at all.

[twopoppies]

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/779120652808536064/hi-gina-im-already-sick-of-myself-typing-this?source=share

War flashbacks…

I read Daisie’s timeline, and I realized that the way Shia quit the movie and Harry came in to replace him happened almost one right after the other. I’d say it was a rushed negotiation, and no one really thought through the consequences, plus I doubt anyone saw it coming.

I think Harry was trying to be as professional as possible with her, but there were moments where he definitely seemed upset: like during one of the Boston shows (before Harryween), then the whole yachtgate situation, and when he found out the nightmare was going to last another year and was seen at Sony office. You could also tell he didn't want to do pda with her until they probably told him to put in more effort.

As for the tattoo, we’ll never know what made him get it, but I think she wanted an engagement—there were even rumors, I believe—but I guess at that point he said 'I’ll just get your name tattooed instead.' I wouldn’t be surprised.

The only positive thing is that Harry—because I truly believe it was more him than his team—was able to negotiate keeping her separate from the album and didn’t let her mention him outside of the movie promo. I feel like that was a last-minute negotiation too, because it really seemed like they were going to link the album to her, but thank God that didn’t happen.

Nothing will make me believe that relationship was real, even without considering larry—things just didn’t add up, and Harry showed his frustration in many ways.

And for those who use the excuse that she interacted with his family and friends, believe me, if Harry were my friend, I’d try to protect him and help however I could (because that’s what friends do). And if that means going to her birthday just to keep up appearances and prevent my friend from another pap walk with her, I’d do it.

I absolutely agree with you about friends and family helping to keep him from suffering through more interaction with her.

I think the leak of the video of her begging Shia to stay, while also shading Florence, probably enraged Harry. I would bet she was covering all her bases and doing all of that while also courting Harry to be in the film (and we already know she lied about Shia being fired, and lied about his behavior on set, when he actually quit because the script for the film was terrible and there wasn't enough rehearsal time).

I think the tattoo exchange for an engagement was a fan theory originally (because I know I had that theory, and I saw others saying it, too). We really have no idea, but it seems like a logical leap to make.

Frankly, I think she was thrilled for it to last a second year and probably didn't fight it for one second. It was originally supposed to be released at the end of 2021. Then, in early 2022. It kept get pushed later and later (I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't please her case with WB that she could drum up more excitement for it the longer she played the PR relationship game as Harry was becoming more and more popular as his tour continued and as Harry's House was released).

The shoot went a full month longer than expected (partially due to Covid, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was due to the mess that everything was because of her). Then she literally checked out completely in terms of post-production and was so busy being a rock star girlfriend that the movie needed to be re-edited and shown to test audiences at least three times (with all reports being leaked pointing toward a disaster). Then, somehow Warner Bros decided to cancel every single movie it was making except DWD (and some movie starring the Rock that I can't even remember the name of now) and pushed its premiere to the fall when all the big Oscar contenders are released (as if. LMAO!) and somehow got it to the Venice Film Festival.

I very much think Harry's House was originally meant to be linked to her (the same way Fine Line was linked to Camille). The fact that it seems as though the Zane Lowe interview was shot and edited by January 2022 and then re-shot at Coachella in April of that year tells me everything I need to know about that. He swerved hard and cut her out of the narrative completely (THANK GOD).

[mediumgayitalian]

okay this is not the blog for this but i’m gonna explain myself anyway. i know this story was written by a bisexual woman. and the movie was directed by a gay man. i know there were queer actors. i know this film was important to so so many people. it was important to ME — i wasn’t allowed to watch it when it came out; i watched it in silence on a plan at 1 in the morning looking over my shoulder. i wept and muffled the tears into my hand. this movie was revolutionary.

it was still straight pandering.

i don’t mean that it was a bad representation of queerness. i don’t think it was; i think it was pretty good, actually, especially for the time it was made. but the message, and the point of the film, is straight pandering — the point of the film is to normalize gay people. on one hand, that is validating for queer people. on the other hand, this film is directly written for straight people. this is a letter to them. this letter says: look how normal we are, look how alike you we are, please please please find it within yourselves to treat us with respect.

this is not me reaching. this is almost a direct quote. in fact, let's look at the opening lines, from simon, to the audience (emphasis mine):

"I'm just like you. For the most part, my life is totally normal...My dad was the annoyingly handsome quarterback who married the hot valedictorian. And, no, they didn't peak in high school...I have a sister I actually like...And then there's my friends. Two of them, I've known since pretty much the beginning of time...One of them, I just met a few months ago, but it feels like I've known her forever. We do everything friends do...So, like I said. I'm just like you. I have a totally, perfectly normal life. Except I have one huge-ass secret...

from the very first line! "I am just like you!" if he were talking to other queer people, there would be no 'but'. no need for the "huge-ass" secret. we have the same 'secret', after all. no need to tell us. but he is not talking to queer people. he is talking to non-queer people, he is talking to straight people. this entire story, in simon's voice, is directly addressed to straight people.

that doesn't necessarily mean straight-pandering, sure. so far it's just straight-addressed. except there is an appeal in there -- a please, please, accept me, i am like you, i am not a freak, and, worse, i am not like those other freaks. i am normal. i am like you, see that i am like you, that, like you, straight person, i am normal. the association is straight = normal; and, therefore, queer = freak. this ideal is further cemented with ethan's entire character -- who is not only queer, but is gender non-conforming (GNC).

ethan 'looks' gay. he is feminine, he is open, he is flamboyant. before he is called ethan he is called fag. the first time we see him, he is being mocked; in fact his entire character is a bit of a caricature: here, look, see simon, gay and normal, and see ethan, gay and Other. were this film not straight-pandering, the idea might be: here is simon, here is ethan; both gay, both 'normal'. instead, ethan is posited as Abnormal. his Otherness, even, is presented as the reason he cannot be treated normally:

[BULLY]: Whatever, fag.

LEAH: Dicks.

SIMON: Wish Ethan wouldn't make it so easy for them.

there! right out of the gate! right out of simon's own mouth! [ethan's] queerness is his own targeting. if ethan were normal, like simon, like the straights, he would not be so mocked. but because he is visibly queer, because he is GNC (think about the implications of that, maybe, think about the 'LGB' movement, the 'gay people against trans' movement, think about queer infighting that has gotten so so so much worse in the years since that movie came out), he is bringing it upon himself.

obviously this is a pretty clear and blatant case of victim blaming. and the victim blaming isn't necessarily the problem -- that is a great opportunity for growth! this would be the point on which we, as an audience, could reflect upon at the end of the movie; look at where he started, like all of us, hating ourselves by hating each other, and look at where he has come. this would make his character arc very clear.

except...that doesn't happen?

even after martin outs him. he spends his break isolated and terrfied, as is to be expected, and then there is this brief brief second where an arc is teased.

this is where i might differ in opinion from some people. is love simon straight-pandering, or simply sanitized? both? neither? what's going on?

in my personal opinion, the sanitization is straight-pandering. it frustrates me that everything about us must be as close to cis and non-queer as possible to be presented to the mainstream (it frustrates me that we strive so hard to be mainstream at all, but that's another conversation). the sanitization and the straight-pandering comes in because even when simon is tearing through his closet, looking for way to signify himself, to wordlessly tell other queers he is like them, he cannot commit to it. even in this fantasy movie, even in this rom-com happy ending all loose ends are tied and everybody clapped (literally, everybody clapped, it is too much fantasy to let queers -- to let us -- be our total, uncensored selves.

because this movie is straight pandering.

it's really obvious to me in simon's college fantasy. it hit me when i was 17 even, watching this film and crying from the joy of it; the self-hatred was so evident i stopped and recognised it. in simon's actual, unwitnessed mind, he is so embarrassed by flamboyant non-straightness that he cannot entertain it. he must announce it to the IMAGINARY AUDIENCE, DO YOU GET THAT, IN SIMON'S PERSPECTIVE WE, THE AUDIENCE, ARE THE FICTIONAL VOYUERS OF HIS LIFE, WE, THE WATCHERS OF THE MOVIE SIMON IS NARRATING AND ADDRESSING US THROUGH, ARE THE STRAIGHTS HE IS TALKING TO, that is is seperate from the faggy queers.

SIMON: Maybe not that gay.

isn't that awful? doesn't that hit you? there's no re-evaluating at the end of the film. even when simon does get the chance to talk to ethan, one-on-one, he cannot come to an understanding. he doesn't get it. in fact, he is still separating himself from ethan! ethan makes himself vulnerable and tell simon that his mother pretends that he is straight and it kills him. ethan, the non straight-pandering voice says, out loud: i am different and i am proud of it. i am gay and obviously so and any other implication is a betrayal of my soul. i am a fag. i am flamboyant. i am not straight, and i am proud of that. i am PROUD.

when the dumbass VP assumes simon and ethan are dating, simon cannot correct himself fast enough.

simon is not evil. he recognises his ally and brother in ethan, he is careful and civil with him. but he also recognises the position being ethan's friend and being associated with ethan puts him in. it's explicit in the bullying scene! in the VP's office! should simon fail to fervently and frequently align himself with straightness, with 'normalcy', he will be assumed as one of those gays. he will be that gay, the weird ones, the ones who 'shove it in our faces, you know?' the uncomfortable gays. the gays that cannot be made into corporate interest.

you can have all the gay writers in the world. but what a major gay movie, backed by corporate sponsors and literally addressed to fucking straight people, cannot be a genuine and true representation of queer, in both senses of the word. it cannot show the other. it has to, by virtue, align itself as closely as possible with the straight people funding it, with the cheque-writers in the room going hm, that's a little too gay for me.

love, simon begins with one idea: i am just like you, but i have a huge-ass secret.

at the end, the secret is revealed. but simon is not desperately vying to be just like his straight audience any less.

yes yes love simon is straight pandering blah blah blah. but "you get to exhale now, simon" will never not knock me fucking flat to the floor.