#Why 1989 still matters

[about-faces]

Last night, I was once again struggling to actually write smut for a Harvey/Bruce/Gilda fic, when I noticed a very timely new guest comment on my Gilda fic, Bust. It was the first truly critical response I’ve gotten so far, and while that sort of thing would normally send me into a depressive tizzy, I actually found it really interesting!

So instead of actually writing the ship, as I should have been, I wanted to take this opportunity to think about just why the heck I shipped them in the first place.

Here’s how I responded, with added scans to hopefully better illustrate my point, plus some additions that occurred to me upon drafting this post:

I’m actually glad you raised this point, because I would have felt the exact same as you just a few years ago!

I’m gray-asexual, and I used to be a bit bothered by the rise of Bruce/Harvey shippers, because it was their canonical platonic FRIENDSHIP that mattered so much to me. I gradually warmed up to the shippers, because 1.) I realized I was ace and they probably weren’t, and 2.) they at least understood the importance of Bruce and Harvey’s bond, which is more than I can say for LOTS of official DC media.

Still, something bugged me about the ship, and I realized what it was: the lack of Gilda from the equation. She’s always been deeply important to me, especially her scant older appearances, and erasing her for a Bruce/Harvey ship (even one I’d come to appreciate) didn’t sit right with me.

But like you said, it’s not canon, and I’ve always been deeply invested in canon, even the stuff that’s frustrating and contradictory. So yeah, the throuple would have bugged me too.

Except! It all depends on WHICH canon you’re talking about!

So over the past 15 years, I’ve been obsessed with tracking down the entirety of the obscure, forgotten Batman newspaper comic strip from 1989-1991. I’ve posted the entire thing at @batman-daily, and I strongly encourage you to check it out. A couple years ago, I reread it and noticed something really interesting: the remarkable relationship between Bruce, Harvey, and the latter’s wife, Alice, who is Gilda in every way but name. They are all mutual friends, with Alice even going to visit Bruce alone to help/bully him to take care of himself.

It all reads like a perfect long-game setup for a love triangle, or for Harvey—having become Two-Face—to go after his loved ones in a jealous rage, like he did in Paul Dini’s “Two-Timer,” a story which notably showed that Grace had feelings for Bruce.

With that in mind, consider the final story arc of the newspaper strip, wherein Bruce acknowledges his OWN feelings for Alice and PASSIONATELY KISSES HER, all in a hilariously roundabout way to save her marriage to Harvey! It makes sense in context and is frankly hilarious.

And it works! Because Harvey isn’t jealous! The love triangle conflict you expect NEVER HAPPENS! Because they all love one another! And that love saves Harvey in the very end!

Was it explicitly a throuple? No, but nor have Bruce and Harvey ever canonically touched dicks. And yet the love between Bruce and Harvey in canon is true and real enough that shippers who want to make it sexual are perfectly allowed to do so, because it’s the love that matters. At least, for those of us who aren’t afraid to acknowledge the love between men, platonic or otherwise. And that love is rooted in canon.

So consider this: the mutual three-way-love between Bruce, Harvey, and Alice/Gilda is ALSO canon. That comic strip has been officially accepted as DC multiverse canon in the “Crisis on Infinite Earths: Absolute Edition,” which designated it as Earth-1289.

Furthermore, there’s something else you need to consider: the fact that Harvey HAS been used in love triangles against Bruce in several stories in recent decades. I already mentioned “Two-Timer,” but there’s also Nolan’s “The Dark Knight,” the animated “Gotham By Gaslight” film, and the Telltale game. In various ways, these stories serve to throw a wedge in the friendship between Bruce (the protagonist, whose story serves him) and Harvey (the guy who is going to lose it all, the woman included). I hate that shit. I hate the contrived drama that’s meant to stir up needless added conflict between two men who love each other.

And then, on the other hand, you have Mariko Tamaki’s Gilda story from “Batman: Black and White.” Tamaki depicted Harvey and Gilda being in a distant, loveless marriage, where even on their wedding day, he was constantly ignoring her in favor of work. The only person who could actually get his attention was Bruce.

At the time, this felt an awful lot like that problem I was talking about with the Bruce/Harvey shippers: raising up the gay ship while throwing the woman under the bus. In this case, for the purpose of doing an avenging girlboss take on Gilda. I hated that too, especially when Tamaki didn’t even follow through with the gay subtext in her next, miserable Two-Face comic.

You know that meme of a bride, groom, and best man all kissing one another, while the bride flips off the cameraman in the end? @whipbogard redrew the Tamaki wedding scene as that meme, right around the time I reread the comic strip. And suddenly, everything clicked into place for me.

After a lifetime of never, ever having any serious fandom ships, I fell in love with the idea of Bruce/Harvey/Gilda. Take what the comic strip did and bring it into the mainstream canon I love to spite the canon I hate.

In those great old Gilda stories, she saw through Harvey’s bullshit and knew how to reach him, however temporarily. She could do the same with Bruce. She’d be a valuable third voice for the ongoing toxic relationship between Bruce and Harvey, the one who could love them both while also getting to be frustrated with how fucking stupid and fucked-up both these men are.

Before she was reduced to a ride-or-die killer housewife in "The Long Halloween" (which, I'll grant you, has its own appeal), classic Gilda would actually stand up to Harvey and tell him to cut out his shit or else. I love the idea that she can also see right through Bruce, understanding how very alike he and Harvey are, even if they don't want to admit it.

Writing Gilda this way speaks to me as a longtime fan of both men, while also wanting to try to develop her place, as a woman stuck in the middle of their decades' worth of conflict and angst. She sees these men at their best, worst, and most pathetic/ridiculous, and while she's got the nerve to stand up for herself and call them out as needed, she still loves them nonetheless. For me, Gilda has become the voice for fans just like me, who are helpless to stop Batman and Two-Face from continuing the cycle of violent, toxic friendship, but still loving them nonetheless, and always hoping for the best.

So, at this point, let’s say I’ve at least managed to make you grudgingly accept my reasoning for the relationship. Even if that’s true, I’m gonna guess that the mention of a threesome felt like it came out of left field. I can’t argue with that. I wanted to actually write that as its own smutfic but, being ace, I struggle with that. But I really liked the idea, and as I was writing this, it just really wanted to be mentioned, so I included it.

The response has been positive (until now), which indicated to me that I had been successful in introducing Gilda as a viable third into a slice of fandom which had only shipped Bruce and Harvey. This is fanfic, after all, such things are expected, even encouraged, so I leaned into it.

Now, if I were ever (un?)fortunate enough to write for DC, officially? I doubt I’d have the nerve to go that far. But I’d still want to at least embrace the polycule-coded relationship between those three that we saw in the newspaper comic strip. I think it adds a whole new, refreshing spin on their ongoing dynamics, while being rooted in relationships that were established all the way back in 1942 by Bill Finger.

Finger’s story, at its heart, was all about how love can save a life. How love is the only way to defeat the villain. For Harvey Kent’s part, Gilda’s love was every bit as important as Batman’s unwillingness to give up on his friend. So I’m just taking it one step further within the freedom allowed me by fanfic.

Sorry for the length of the reply, but as you can see, I only came to this shit after several decades of thinking about 80+ years of official material. I hope I have at least been able to lessen your feelings of being jarred out of a story you otherwise seemed to appreciate. For my part, I hope to further develop the potential of this fucked-up polycule in future stories, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to get you on board too. Hope to see you then!

(art by ofossart)

[silverwhittlingknife]

Dick Grayson & Tim Drake: Reading Guide

Once upon a time, two kids met at a circus... and the rest is history.

table of contents:

who are these losers?

what's fun about them?

why a reading guide?

how does the reading guide work? (tl;dr: there are quick recs, a selected chronological list, and a complete chronological list)

where is the spreadsheet? (x)

who are they?

Dick Grayson and Tim Drake: the first Robin and the third Robin.

Also known as the circus boy and the earnest computer geek, the hotshot and the pretender, the slighted prince and the new apprentice, the acolyte and the hanger-on, Nightwing and Robin, Batman and Robin, Batman and Red Robin, and Marcia and Cindy (BftC 3, N 110 & 119, B 617, DC 677, Detention Comics 1, R 168, RR 14).

Or as Jason calls them, "You idiots" (TT 47).

More seriously, Dick Grayson is one of the most enduring comic characters ever - he's been around since Detective Comics 38 in 1940! He's Batman's first ward, first partner, and eldest son. When Dick's parents are murdered, Bruce identifies with him, comforts him, and takes him into his home, where Dick ultimately volunteers to join his crimefighting mission. By candlelight, the Dynamic Duo swear an oath: That we two will fight together against crime and corruption and never swerve from the path of righteousness!

Tim Drake was created in Batman 436 and formally introduced in Lonely Place of Dying. He's a lonely kid who imprints on Dick when they meet as children, and Dick hugs him and promises to do a quadruple somersault for him; he's horrified and worried about Dick in the aftermath of the Graysons' murder, which he witnesses. He watches Batman comfort Dick, deduces Robin's secret identity, and becomes a secret devotee of the Dynamic Duo. Though he admires them both, it's ultimately Dick who he idolizes and tries to emulate when Bruce is spiraling: Batman needs a Robin. No matter what he thinks he wants.

Their slow-burn strangers-to-friends-to-brothers-to-antagonists-to-brothers-again arc develops from 1989 to 2011, and it's one of the standout examples of the DC Post-Crisis era's commitment to gradual character development and careful continuity.

what's fun about them?

SO MUCH!!! But one of my favorite things is their friendship has RANGE!! They go from sweet kids to tense strangers to loyal friends to brothers over the course of real-life years and tons of comics. They fight, they tease each other, they get protective, they worry, they chase each other down, they walk away... there's just so much story here.

They meet at the circus as children, when both their parents are still alive. They meet again, years later, when Bruce is reeling from Jason's death and they team up to stop him from hurting anyone. In the early days, they're brothers-in-arms and never quite family - instead, Dick is Bruce's loyal-but-estranged eldest son, and Tim is Bruce's new loyal-but-wary apprentice, with his own family and his own semi-estranged dad. The slow process of evolving toward found-family is a delight to watch.

They work together as Nightwing and Robin over four years of in-universe time and for over twenty years of real-time, gradually forging a fierce bond of friendship and, ultimately, brotherhood.

Then Bruce dies, and they have some huge fights.

But even when they're estranged, even when they're not speaking... they never stop loving and trying to protect each other. No matter what.

why a reading guide?

Quotes from New Titans 60 and Batman 441 (1989), Nightwing 25 (1998), Nightwing 69 (2002), Red Robin 1 (2009), Red Robin 12 (2010), Gates of Gotham 3 and Detective Comics 874 (2011)

I think reading guides are cool!! And somebody asked me about one!

More generally, I think reading guides are always helpful, but especially with Dick & Tim... you know, when I first started out trying to read their comics, I got kinda overwhelmed. Because on the one hand there's SO MUCH CONTENT - they're one of the classic enduring friendships in all of post-Crisis! their relationship is a HUGE BIG DEAL! they're constantly calling each other and hanging out and supporting each other and arguing!

But at the same time, all of that content is scattered across lots of different books, in Robin and Nightwing and Detective Comics and Batman and New Titans and Titans and Young Justice and Teen Titans and Shadow of the Bat and Gotham Knights and Birds of Prey and Showcase and DC Holiday Specials and so on and so forth. There's not One Definitive Place where you can read The Dick-and-Tim Story.

So: a reading guide!

how does the reading guide work?

Dick and Tim are in over 400 comics together and over 800 comics each separately. That's a whole lot of comics! So I've made a spreadsheet with three different reading guides, depending on how interested you are in these two:

1-5 Quick Recs: If you just want to check out a couple comics, check out these quick recs for "if you like fluff," "if you like angst," etc.

200 Starter Comics: If you want to do a comprehensive, chronological Dick-and-Tim read without committing to all the comics, this list has some of their major team-ups plus some solo comics so you know what the heck is going on. Most of them have a "sneak peek" you can use to decide if you want to read it.

Big List: A complete list of all the comics Dick and Tim are in, in chronological order, with links to dc.fandom and to DC Universe Infinite. It has filter views.

This spreadsheet was a labor of love, obsession, and SO MUCH PROCRASTINATING doing other things. I update it sometimes.

where is the spreadsheet?

it's here. have fun <3

[ralkana]

Fluffbruary, Day 6

February 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

Dream of the Endless / Hob Gadling

Rated G

-----

It's the middle of the afternoon when his stranger shows up at the New Inn, a smile on his face, naming Hob friend. Apologizing for his absence.

"Welcome," Hob says, shoving his marking into his satchel. "Let me get you a glass of wine."

His stranger sits silently as he asks Katie for another pint and orders a glass of Malbec.

"The good one," he clarifies, and she grins.

"Got it, Robbie," she says, with a curious glance at his companion, and then they're alone again.

His friend is still watching him, that smile on his face, and Hob can't help but take a moment simply to look. He thinks about asking why they didn't meet in 1989, why he was left adrift and alone, but it doesn't matter. Not really. He's here now.

"What were you working on when I arrived?" his friend asks, his gaze shifting briefly to Hob's satchel before anchoring firmly on Hob's face once more.

"Marking," he says, and his friend's brow furrows. "Checking my students' work," he adds. "I'm a professor now! Me, can you imagine?"

And then he's off, the familiar rhythm of their past meetings suddenly returning. He talks for so long that his voice falters. There is so much to tell his friend about. X-rays and the space race, vinyl records and the internet. With a word to Katie, he switches from beer to water, and keeps going.

His friend is no more talkative about himself than usual, but he seems more engaged, less... dour. He asks questions, and is more expressive than Hob has ever seen him. Hob even thinks he tried the wine Hob chose for him, though the nearly full glass now sits on the table between them.

He is in the middle of explaining the miracle of organ transplants when his stomach growls, loud enough to be heard from across the table even in the busy pub, and he breaks off in embarrassment.

"Pardon me," he says with a laugh.

"I have kept you from your evening meal," his friend says, shifting in his seat, and Hob lunges, half-desperate, as it looks like he might rise. His friend stills, eyes widening a fraction.

"No, no! It's fine!" Hob says, lowering his hand from its aborted grasp. Please don't leave! He takes a moment to breathe, to calm himself.

"We have shared a meal before," he reasons, though of course, his friend has never eaten. He has remained while Hob has eaten, though, and that's what he's hoping for now. "We could do so again. If you'd like."

His friend nods his agreement, so quickly that Hob thinks he might not be the only one unready for the evening to end.

He orders a steak and ale pie, and when Katie asks his friend for his order and he declines, Hob asks for two forks. His friend raises an eyebrow at that, and Hob simply grins. One day, he'll find something that tempts his friend - his need to feed those he cares about is strong. Stronger still because his friend looks like he's missed a fair few meals recently.

If he even eats. Perhaps he lives on words. Heaven knows Hob has given him plenty of those.

His meal arrives, and he breaks the crust of the steaming pie, smiling as he inhales the aroma of the thick gravy that wafts out.

He has eaten a few bites in between his words when his friend shifts in his chair, reaching for the fork in front of him.

Hob watches, fascinated, as he scoops up a small bite of beef, a morsel of crust, and a tiny bit of gravy. Those petal pink lips part as he tastes it, head tilted like a bird's as he considers it.

"It is pleasingly savory," he pronounces as he sets the fork down again, and Hob grins.

"That it is, friend," he says in agreement, applying himself to his meal and his tale.

"Dessert then, Robbie?" Katie asks a few minutes later, as she brings him another glass of water and sees the remains of his meal.

Hob debates for approximately three seconds. "Yeah, go on then."

Katie laughs as she picks up his plate. "The usual?"

"Please, and two forks."

There's so much more to tell his friend about - there always is - but Hob feels mostly talked out. This is by far the longest his friend has ever lingered, and he can't ignore the ache of the knowledge that soon, their meeting must end.

Unwilling to prematurely give into the melancholy that always arrives after these evenings, Hob pushes it away and says, "The kitchen here is fantastic. In some ways, pub food is the same as it's always been, but some things are so different now..."

He's in the middle of explaining gastropubs and fusion cuisine when Katie approaches their table once more, and he breaks off.

"Ah, thanks, love," he says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as she sets down their dessert. "Butterscotch bread pudding with vanilla bean ice cream and housemade whiskey caramel sauce. It's absolutely the best thing on the menu. It's won awards."

Lifting the shot glass of caramel, he upends it, drizzling it over the pudding sizzling in its little cast iron pot. The ice cream is melting slowly into the top of the pudding, and the smell is divine.

Hob digs in and pops a bite in his mouth. It's too hot, burning his tongue, and it's absolutely worth it.

His friend picks up his fork and digs out a tiny bite to try, and Hob watches his eyes widen, his pleasure clear on his face in a way that has Hob shift in his seat. He's beautiful.

"Good, innit?"

He says nothing, but his fork dips again, lifts a larger bite this time.

Sweet tooth, then, Hob thinks. Got it.

He goes in for another bite as well, picking the thread of his words back up.

He's talking about the rise of the celebrity chef a few moments later, reaching for another bite, when his fork scrapes against iron, and he blinks and looks down. The little pot is empty, only a few drops of caramel sauce and a few smears of melted ice cream remaining. Hob has had maybe three bites.

He looks up, astonished. His friend looks back serenely, but there are spots of color, high on his pale cheeks. He sets his fork down.

Hob could not stop the smile breaking over his face for all the money in the world. His friend's lips twitch, the corner tucking into a tiny smile, and Hob notices there is the smallest drop of caramel sauce at the corner of his friend's mouth.

Hob entertains a very brief fantasy of leaning across the table and licking it off, tasting the sweetness of the caramel and his friend's perfect skin.

Clearing his throat and shoving the thought away, he sets his own fork down. They are not unfamiliar, these little moments of want that flash within him, whenever they share an evening. They are what sustain him in the long decades between their meetings.

His friend's gaze is sharp on his face, but those spots of color remain.

"I apologize for consuming your dessert."

"Our dessert, friend. Two forks, remember? I'm just glad you enjoyed it. Would you like another?"

His friend looks away, out the window long since gone dark.

"The hour grows late," he says, and Hob tries not to flinch. "And I have. Difficult work ahead of me. But. Perhaps we might meet again soon. To share this dish. Or perhaps another."

Hob's breath catches, his heart pounding. I will take you to every bakery and dessert shop in London, he thinks. England! The world!

"I would like that very much, my friend," he says.

"Dream," he says as he stands, looking down at Hob with the same smile he had when he first came in. "You may call me Dream."

"Good night, Dream, my friend," Hob says, trying not to choke on the emotion that swamps him. "I hope to see you soon."

"You shall, Hob Gadling. Good night, my friend."

Between one blink and the next, he's gone.

END

-----

Thanks to @fluffbruary for the prompt, and to the Morrison in Atwater Village for the best damn bread pudding I've had in my life.

[spade-riddles]

Anonymous asked:

My friends ❤️ I know the mood around here is down right now. That’s valid! I completely hear you. I know all too well how hard the heartbreak can hit having to watch the terrible stunting. Take a break if you need it. Take care of you always. But never lose your hope!!! Remember the end game!!! We’ve had so much movement forward since the release of Tortured Poets!

Maybe I’m too far down the 🐇🕳️ to be saved. But for reasons we can’t comprehend, the stunting and shenanigans still matter to her. I don’t want to be misinterpreted.. it’s SUCKY and we ARE hurt. I feel it too. But I have seen too much of the light coming through from the other side now. Between Robin and the 🎃 messages coming to fruition and the change in her Betty speech and the rainbow 1989 outfits and the lesbian flag colored Lover suit and all the ✌🏼 and Karlie telling us she’s in Paris and the Lover house falling like a facade.. we’ve been given a feast of clues in a world where we only get crumbs most of the time. She’s probably still going to stunt sometimes, and it probably will still sting. But 🎃 once said “The finish line is closer than it may appear. Transformation is imminent. Hold on to your blind faith a moment longer, now. And remember that reputation is illusion, expectation the magician.” Maybe my blind optimism is to blame, but this is real and we all know it. We can feel it! ❤️

Now - hear me out: 🫚 said “Five, six, Lay it on thick.” So for the months of May and June.. the stunting might be turned way up. But you know what else has been turned WAY up? The flagging to us!! From both Taylor and Karlie. This may even be why we’re still getting ✌🏼 from Taylor Nation, Karlie and Taylor. 2 story lines, 2 narratives being publicly displayed, 2 completely different sides of the story.. but only 1 that catches the public’s eye. An illusionist, if you will. I believe she created this narrative on purpose. When it’s a lesbian flag colored body suit and boots, it’s “just colors” but when it’s Red and Yellow in 1989, it’s “for Tr*vis!!” Interesting double standard set by TAYLOR herself. She IS the mastermind!! The time will come for us to finally win. I believe that.

I love you all and this community we share. Please take the time away if you need it. Come back when you’re ready. We will always be here! ❤️

I leave you with this: “One day, people will say you’re the lucky ones. All I can ask of you is this: To have an open mind, rolling new ideas over in your thoughts and keeping only what feels right.” 🎃

[five-and-dimes]

Thinking more about Dream not telling Hob why he missed the 1989 meeting, and while I love the humor and absurdity of Dream just being terrible at communicating, I can’t help but also think about the angst in how Dream views the whole situation.

We know that Dream blames himself for what happened, holds himself responsible for being captured and the decay of his realm in his absence, considers the whole thing a failure on his part. 

I can imagine Dream not telling Hob where he was because he truly believes it is irrelevant. It was his fault he missed their appointment and that’s all that matters. The details are superfluous, would just sound like he was making excuses for his own mistakes. He’s trying to grow, it would not do to place the blame of the past century on anyone but himself and his own weakness. It was not Roderick Burgess who hurt Hob Gadling.

And at first, Hob is a little frustrated. Happy to see the stranger, obviously, but still carrying a tinge of hurt at having been stood up over something so innocuous. 

But the meeting continues and he can’t not notice all the red flags. His stranger is so different, and not in a bad way, necessarily, but in a way that speaks to something having happened. And he’s more open, giving Hob the answers he’s wanted for so long (his name is Dream) and yet when it comes to their missed meeting it’s impossible to get a straight answer out of him. He says please forgive me, says my failure kept me from you, but he won’t tell him where he was. 

I don’t think anything would come to light that first meeting, or even the first few after that, but I think Hob becomes more and more aware that Dream isn’t telling him everything- not because of pride, but because of something painfully close to shame. 

And I don’t know how it ends. I don’t know what finally tips Hob over the edge into pushing Dream to tell him the full story, into finally getting Dream to explain the past century, full of rage and pain towards Roderick and Alexander Burgess yet still interrupting himself several times to make sure Hob understands that it was Dream’s fault, he was weak, he was prideful, he understands, he’s not trying to shirk his responsibility-

But of course ultimately Hob embraces Dream with all his strength, and curses the Burgesses, and cries for his friend’s pain, and forgives him and resolves him and tries his very best to ease as much of Dream’s guilt as he can.

(Which isn’t much. But it’s a start.)

[mothdruid]

I Wish You Would

pairing. Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x afab!reader

word count. 3.3k

warnings. ANGST!!

author's note. this is for @laracrofted 1989 writing challenge. my song was I Wish You Would. and a special thanks goes out to @withahappyrefrain, @bobfloydsbabe, and @rae-gar-targaryen for letting me use your OC's as the bride and wedding dates for the daggers in this fic. well, here is some angsty angst for you all. also, the venue i'm writing about is a real place called The Farmhouse Siloam, and this is the dress I wrote the reader in.

The invitation had arrived earlier that year. It didn’t shock you that Jake was actually getting married, but having something tangible telling you was a little odd. Danica and Jake started off on an interesting foot. The way Jake had talked about her in secret wouldn’t have made it obvious, but once you all met Danica everything about the relationship made sense. She was the exact kind of woman that drove Jake crazy, in a good way. That’s one thing you and Bradley had always agreed on. That Hangman would hang the stars for his Venus, something you found out Bradley would have trouble doing for you.

The relationship hadn’t been terrible, honestly, it was the best relationship you had ever had. One that you thought about regularly, even though you continually told everyone you were over it. So, when Jake and Danica gave you the heads up that they were also inviting Bradley, you gave them questioning looks. Why would that even matter? It was their wedding anyways, they could invite whoever they wanted. It’s not like that final not was still something you thought about daily. But how would they had known that? They couldn’t have when you always told them the opposite.

Neither of you were bad people, but that night would have told anyone the opposite. Both of your words were laced with venom, neither one of you knowing how to convey your thoughts properly. It wasn’t like either of you, but things had gotten out of hand quick. One thing lead to another, escalating past the point of control.

An uneven breath passed your lips while you looked in the mirror. The dress you had picked was something simple. A two strap summery dress with a bustier built in. It was covered in a muted pastel floral print. Cielo and Abby had helped you pick it out. You bought it with the thought of being able to wear it again, and not to draw the attention of anyone specific.

Even though you and Bradley ended on poor terms, you still yearned for him. Almost two years later and you still wished for something. But you weren’t just hoping and wishing for him to reach out to you, you were also wishing you could have changed things. Wished you would have never hung up on him. Wished that maybe you wouldn’t have said the things you did. Wished that you would have swallowed your pride and reached out. Too many wishes, but it was all in the past and you couldn’t change it now.

All you could do now was face the day. Face the fact that you would be seeing him again. Face the emotions that were going to resurface.

You did a small twirl, calming your nerves in the process. If anything you could hide with Mickey, Cielo, Abby, Bob, and Reuben if things became too much. Or at least just Cielo and Abby. No matter what, you would survive. Ignoring the sensation tightening in your chest, you moved to the bathroom to finish your makeup.

-

Bradley stared at himself in the dressing room mirror, ignoring all of those who were fluttering around him. He had known about this day for a long time. Hell, he knew when Jake decided he was going to propose. Jake had immediately sent him and Javy a picture of the ring. Eager. That was all Bradley had thought about it. Bradley had a slightly pessimistic view on love now.

After his last relationship, he took a break from love. It was too painful, the only thing in the world that could hurt everyone. Even those whose walls were so high, heart so guarded. Those like Bradley.

Love had been the most damaging thing in Bradley’s life. The love for his father? Heart breaking. The love for his mother? Life altering. The love he had once felt for Maverick? Trust breaking. The love he had for you? World crumbling. It wasn’t worth it anymore in his mind. He had tried it multiple times, each time ending in pain.

The pain he had felt with you had been different though. It was a shared one, a pain he could tell that you were also experiencing. It wasn’t like when his dad just never returned home, or when his mom took her final breath in the hospital, or when Mav set him back. All of that had been one sided, him being the only one being hurt. But when he saw the tears roll down your cheeks, the way your chest heaved with each breath. That finally click he heard when you hung up. The ache in his chest as he stared at the phone, deciding not to call you back.

Yeah, you had been the one to hang up, but Bradley had been the one who did nothing. He didn’t do anything in that moment except let you slip through his fingers, like sand in an hour glass. He regretted it to this day. Knowing he should have at least reached out but didn’t. It was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He finally popped his collar up then ran the tie for his suit around it.

He hadn’t been this dressed up, outside of his Navy regalia, in a long time. The last time he remembered was for your cousins wedding. A smile drifted to his lips, but only a small one, as he recalled the way you had tied his tie for him. Your face was so calm and focused, threading the material through the knot and tightening it up for him. His own hands followed the same pattern that yours once did. He was never able to capture it completely, but he always preferred how you had tied his ties.

“Crazy, huh?” Javy said while grabbing Bradley’s shoulder and pulling him close.

“That’s one word for it,” Bradley let out a little chuckle.

The two of them sat there for a moment, silence over taking them. Javy's bright smile faded a little when he met Bradley’s gaze in the mirror. Javy wasn’t oblivious to what today meant for Bradley, Jake neither. Jake had told Bradley immediately when Danica sent out invitations. Bradley was happy you would be there, seeing the union of two amazing friends. But he couldn’t ignore the anxiety festering in his chest.

“If you need anything, just ask man.”

“Thanks.”

-

Throughout the entire ceremony you had fought the urge to throw up. Which now lead to you in the bathroom, waiting for your nausea to calm down. It was the worst symptom of anxiety you got, that and the tightness in your chest. You didn’t think that seeing Bradley would do this to you. You had been preparing and hyping yourself up all morning, only for him to crack it all with one look. A look he didn’t even return.

You moved to the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. That’s when you noticed something that you didn’t catch prior. Well, you had ‘caught’ it, but didn’t realize the full extent of your choice in lipstick. It was Bradley’s favorite shade. It was a soft neutral, one you wore cause it went with everything. Bradley had loved it because, “It just makes you glow”, or at least that was what he had told you. Your fingertips almost brushed your lips, but you stopped yourself and simple smiled.

The reception was gorgeous, the entire thing had been gorgeous. It was an outdoor venue, a boho-esque farm house that had been transitioned into a wedding venue. People were swarming everywhere, waiting to the newly weds and wedding party to show up for things to officially start. You made your way up the steps of the outdoor pavilion, looking around only to find familiar faces staring back at you. Danica and Jake had been kind enough to put all their good friends at the same table. Bob and Mickey both noticed you at the same time, alerting everyone else at the table of your presence.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Reuben said as he stood to pull your chair out for you.

“As if I wouldn’t miss this,” you replied while sitting down.

“That’s right, can’t stay away from us,” Mickey said with a big grin.

The night had moved fast. Dinner had been an event, Javy making his way over to your guys table to greet everyone. Jake and Danica eventually came over too, only after making sure to say hello to all the extended family, which Mickey was claiming you all were a part of. You, Cielo, Abby, and Natasha had talked about the struggles of finding the perfect guest dresses. Bob chiming in to say that you all looked phenomenal, only to turn red when you all complimented him back while Abby pressed a kiss to his cheek. The only person that was missing from your group was Bradley.

Your anxiety about the situation had subsided when the wedding party walked in. Bradley had actually looked at you, even gave you a small smile. The butterflies you had felt weren’t brand new, but they weren’t something you had felt in a long time. They were a regular thing Bradley used to give you, no matter how comfortable you had become with him. Butterflies on your one year anniversary, two year, and even three year.

Your gazes didn’t stop meeting throughout the entirety of dinner. He calmly sat at the wedding party table, disappearing at some point. The thought about finding him had crossed your mind, but you decided to stay seated, a small amount of anxiety winning that battle. It was a good thing though, the first dance starting only a few minutes after you made the decision.

All of you sat there mesmerized by the gorgeous couple dancing. They looked so seamless together, making your heart swell with fondness for the both of them. After the first dance was the dances they had with their parents. Danica with her father, Jake with his mother. All of it, everything was making something inside of you sad. Not for the people around you, but for the fact that you could have had this.

The night continued though. About forty-five minutes had passed since the music and dancing had started. You were sitting at your assigned table while sipping your wine. It had been your second glass. Even though you wanted to get really drunk, you decided not to. It wasn’t the time nor place, and seeing Bradley didn’t fully constitute it. But there was a still a part of you, one that was becoming a little overwhelming, was yearning for him.

A slow song had started to play, many people dispersing from the dance floor. It wasn’t the first slow song and it wouldn’t be that last. During the first slow song, Reuben had asked if you wanted to dance at one point after seeing the saddened look on your face. You had politely declined though, and Reuben confirmed that he understood. The two of you instead had sat at the table and watched all the varying couples on the floor. Jake and Danica, Javy and Natasha, Bob and Abby, Mickey and Cielo. The first time you didn’t take notice to Bradley’s presence, trying to ignore the silent plea inside of you.

Your heart was screaming at you, telling you to just walk over. It was wishing that you would simply go up and talk to him. Wishing that he would come talk to you. Wishing for so much that would probably never happen.

But this time you did notice his presence.

That’s because he wasn’t there, completely absent from the pavilion.

-

The day was going better than Bradley had anticipated.

So what if his chest was filled to the brim with regret and anxiety. He could get over that. What he couldn’t get over was how beautiful everything was. The venue looked like something from out of a movie, Danica truly looked like Venus, and it was perfect. Including you. Before he even walked down the dirt path they called the aisle, his eyes were locked on you.

How could they not be?

After countless days and nights he had spent with you. The very image of you was seared into his soul, being able to immediately pick you out before even seeing your face. You looked as beautiful as ever. It made his heart race, now being faced with the reality that he was only a mere twenty feet away from you. So, he made sure not to make eye contact throughout the entire ceremony. It was harder than he thought it would be. All he wanted to do was look at you, but he forced himself not to.

That was until the reception started. When he walked up the steps of the pavilion his heart was hammering. The DJ announced his name and he walked through, eyes finally meeting yours. It was brief, but it was enough to make his mind spin. He immediately noticed the color of your lips. It was his color, the one he had always loved on you. The one that made you look radiant, complimenting you in all the best ways. It had always grabbed his attention. It wasn’t an extravagant color, but you made it extravagant.

And you continued to keep his attention all night. His eyes followed you, adverting away fast enough for you not to notice when you looked his direction. It was borderline painful watching you with all of his friends. They were your friends too, but the two of you hadn’t been around all of them at the same time in forever. Not actual forever, but that’s what it felt like to Bradley. More like a lifetime.

All he kept thinking was about how foolish he had been. Wishing all over again that he would have done just something. Called you back, sent a text, or simply just not disappear out of your life. But at the time he thought that was the best thing. Only after did he realize how dumb he actually had been. He had to leave the pavilion for a moment, getting fresh air to relieve himself. He returned only a few minutes later.

Then when Jake and Danica started the first dance he started to feel sick. If he would have been better, that could have been the two of you. He could have seen you in one of those gorgeous white gowns. All he saw when he pictured it was you as an ethereal being. This all had to be karma, finally coming around to bite him in the ass. And it didn’t stop either. Watching everyone take their partner, arms wrapped lovingly around them.

Watching how Bob softly moved a stray strand of hair from Abby’s face. The bright smile that Mickey brought to Cielo. Even the way Natasha was laughing at Javy's dumb jokes. He wished that he could have been like that with you. Whisking you around the floor, whispering in your ear about how lucky he was to have you. But it was simply a wish, nothing more.

So Bradley left.

He didn’t want to sit with the regret and pain anymore. The memories of how foolish he had been to let you slip through his hands. He made his way out of the pavilion, dress shoes hitting the grass quickly as he walked a little bit away from the pavilion. Warm deep breaths filled his lungs as he stared out at the sky. Hues of orange and pink were starting to blend in with the clouds.

Not even a minute later did he hear someone coming down the pavilion steps. He waited for a moment, hoping he would hear the steps hit the stone path, but they didn’t. The small sound of shifting grass was creeping closer to him, making hm let out a sigh. He was whole heartedly expecting to see Javy, maybe even Nat in tow. But when he turned around he was much more surprised.

-

“Hi,” you said barely above a whisper.

“I.. Hi,” Bradley greeted back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at one another. Bradley’s eyes had brightened, a soft smile pulling at his lips. Which you mimicked, offering your own small smile at him. Neither of you knew exactly what to say. It didn’t feel awkward, but it wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable either. You looked up, seeing the gorgeous colors of the sky. Bradley looked up to see a little more pink had settled in the sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you said.

“It really is,” Bradley replied.

There were a few beats of silence before you spoke again.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” you didn’t look at him, keeping your gaze towards the sky.

Bradley looked at you though, wondering why you would ask that question. You had never bothered him ever, he just sucked at showing how much he cared about you. Sucked so much he couldn’t even properly show it to you.

“You never have,” Bradley decided it was a now or never thing.

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow to act like you had no idea what he was implying. A breathy half laugh passed your lips as you stared at him now. You waited for a moment, hoping he might retract it or something. That never came though, so you dropped the slightly confused expression from your face.

“Bradley, I didn’t mean it like that,” your smile was gone now.

Bradley nodded, “I know, but there was a lot I wanted to say and never did.”

Those bubbles of anxiety were floating back into your chest, threatening to pop at any moment. But there were things that you had never said either. It was now or never, say your peace or forever hold it.

“There’s a lot I never said either,” you started to fiddle with your hands, a nervous habit you had always had.

“First, I want to say I’m sorry, genuinely,” Bradley’s eyes were sincere as he spoke, “you didn’t deserve anything that happened or that I said. I was stupid then, the emotionally capacity of a peanut.” You both let out a chuckle after that one. “And I don’t expect everything to be magically okay, but I just wanted to apologize and say”, he paused briefly, “that I miss you.”

It felt like your heart had broken into two. Everything you had ever seen in the media was telling you to ditch him, tell him to fuck off. But you couldn’t, because you completely understood what he was saying. You felt the exact same way. Ever since he left it was like you were missing something, double checking every time you left your apartment.

“Bradley, I’m miss you too,” you grabbed his hand as you spoke.

His hand encapsulated yours. The warmth was something familiar yet distant. He had always ran a bit warmer than you, something you had always appreciated. A soft smile appeared on his face once more. He rubbed his thumb lightly on the back of your hand. Neither of you were sure how much time had truly passed since you found him, but another slow song started to play in the distance. Bradley let out a small huff that caught your attention.

“What?” You asked.

“I just… I’ve been meaning to ask you all night,” Bradley started, “would you like to dance?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The two of you stayed there in the grass. Bradley kept you close to him, hands resting on your waist. You rested your head on his chest while your arms where wrapped around his neck. It was peaceful, anxiety melting off the both of you. It wasn’t completely perfect, but it was something the both of you had wished for.

[gayloringinplainsight]

"Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn't a straight white cisgender male," she tells Vogue, when asked about why she chose to, all of a sudden, stand up for LGBTQ+ rights. "I didn't realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I'm not a part of."

Source: https://www.out.com/news/2019/8/08/taylor-swift-says-shes-straight-despite-all-bisexual-rumors#toggle-gdpr

I was waiting for this to come through my inbox lol. (There was more then one ask about this but I'm only responding to the first.)

There's lots to unpack here but the first and foremost thing is: She doesn't actually say here, "I'm straight." It was a perfect opportunity. It was the ideal conversation. She punted. Why?

Why did she instead give this vague, circuitous, carefully couched answer?

She calls out communities encompassing sexuality, race, and gender, followed by saying, "a community that I'm not a part of." There are lots of communities that she could have been referring to, but she crafted the sentence in such a way that makes it unclear which one. She could have been talking about the trans community. She could have been talking about the poc community. She could have been talking about the ace community. She could have been talking about the gay male community. There are lots of possibilities. In this carefully worded sentence, she deliberately avoided naming the specific community she's talking about.

Another thing to consider is that many, many closeted people don't consider themselves part of the queer community. They don't feel like they belong because they're not out and proud. And even once people come out, it often still takes time before they feel like they're part of the queer community. That was certainly my personal experience. Cara Delevingne said something similar in her Hulu show when discussing her own coming out.

Let's move on. The link anon provided isn't the source. It's an article quoting the source. The actual source is the 2019 Vogue cover article. And the full article is important because there are lots of interesting things that give context to this quote.

First, there's a great deal of conversation about gay stuff and lgbtq+ rights. And the writer makes a point of saying about this subject matter that Taylor seems to enjoy that part of the conversation "as much as she’d enjoy a root canal." Wouldn't a straight ally be eager to discuss this? They would. And a closeted queer person would be uncomfortable and panicking at the thought of having to talk so blatantly about this subject. The writer also makes a point of saying that once the conversation changes to music, Taylor lights up and her demeanor and speech patterns relax dramatically.

The other important context that the Vogue article discusses is Taylor's very long history of supporting lgbtq+ rights. Everything from the Mean mv of a gay boy being bullied to the "boys and boys and girls and girls" line in WTNY to donations to lgbtq+ organizations to giving out queer awards to queer people to dedicating Dress to Loie Fuller, an openly gay artist. There are plenty of other examples of Taylor advocating for the queer community that aren't mentioned. All the way back in 2008 she participated in the LOGO queer anti-bullying PSA. In 2009 she was in Seventeen magazine taking a stand against the slaying of a teenager for being gay.

Why is this important? Because it proves that Taylor is lying in the quote in question. "I didn't realize until recently that I could advocate…" girl yes you did. You've been advocating for years and years at this point. She's lying. She's lying. She's covering herself up. She's hiding in the closet and hoping desperately that no one notices.

And this isn't the first time she's done this either. During the 1989 press tour she gave an interview where she was asked about the "And you can want who you want / Boys and boys and girls and girls" line. As the interviewer is starting to speak about this, a look of pure panic immediately takes over Taylor's face:

And then she starts stumbling around trying to give a coherent answer. At one point she stutters out, "And also I wrote this song, um, I wrote this song, kind of, kind of following, the, uh, when gay marriage became legal in New York." This interview was in October 2014. Gay marriage had been legal in New York since June 2011. Sooo three years later is "kind of following." Right. Sure, Taylor. Nice closeting. You really nailed it.

Okay let's review. She doesn't actually say she's straight even though this was a perfect opportunity to do so. She doesn't name the actual community she's talking about, giving herself cover if she ever comes out. She's closeted and probably doesn't think she's part of the queer community anyways. She full-on lies about not knowing she can advocate for others. And the writer states Taylor seems deeply uncomfortable talking about lgbtq+ things even though the context of the article was that blondie wanted to make it clear how much of an ally she is.

None of this remotely adds up to hetero. And none of this comes even close to Taylor saying that she's straight.

[im-not-corrupted]

Because I'm totally normal about your writing (you can hear me hiding a pile of your writing that reaches my head behind my back) can you do 6-Should I write you a poem instead? For the Valentines Game (yes I feel really funny for choosing that)

<333

Mar!! Hi!! :D I hope you enjoy <3

---------

Dream has always enjoyed gift giving.

He has always been the one to gift things to others. To adorn lovers in jewels, to weave tales and compose poems for them. It is no hardship; when he loves, he falls hard and fast, and often to the point of ruin. Before they reach that point, though, he has always found it delightful to gift those who have captured his attentions ways to assure them of his adoration, ways to prove just how significant they are to him.

It has never been any hardship, and Dream thinks it unlikely that it should ever become one. There will never be any greater joy than the chance to see one he loves taken aback by his gifts, than being able to prove his devotion in some real, tangible way.

There is a lot that went into the creation of the gift he wishes for Hob to have. He does not consider a gift until Hob mentioned one of humanity's popular traditions off-handedly—Valentine's Day, he called it, and though he claimed it mattered little to him, he also stated he enjoys the gift-giving aspect of it in the same sentence.

Valentine's Day is not something Dream was familiar with, before he returned to the Dreaming after that particular conversation to conduct some research. He had considered asking Matthew, but then reconsidered. While Matthew was certainly the leading expert in the Dreaming regarding human traditions, he has yet to voice his own feelings for Hob. Has yet to put words to the tangled mess inside his chest, at least not in the Dreaming.

He thinks it is obvious anyway. His realm has embraced spring, flowers blooming through the cracks of his castle, the sky a pleasant blue, the air clear and cool. The Dreaming takes all those feelings and puts them on full display for all his creations to see. It is obvious. He needs not voice such things, not yet.

And he believes Hob knows, too. They have grown steadily closer since Dream's return, thirty-three years late and full of a fierce hope that he wasn't too late. That he hadn't ruined everything by failing so terribly to escape his prison, to make it to their meeting in 1989. Dream has already stated that Hob is important to him, and has made an effort to be more present in his friend's life. Despite the fact that he has not put words for the tangle of feelings inside his chest, he has not made them a secret.

No, Hob must know. He must, surely; there is little chance he does not.

Of course, it is possible Dream has been misunderstood. Hob has been...reciprocative of his attentions, his stares lingering, his touches more purposeful now instead of accidental brushes of their shoulders, but he has not put anything to words either. Still continues to call Dream old friend, an endearment that makes the traitorous thing inside his chest tug almost painfully.

That, he supposes, is the point of his gift. He wants Hob to know just how much he means to him. Wants to put those thoughts to words; to stop dancing around his own feelings. He is sure Hob feels similarly, even if Dream cannot quite understand why; he would not risk ruining their friendship this way otherwise. It means far too much to him for that.

It's late, when he turns up at Hob's door for Valentine's Day. It feels appropriate, knowing the meaning behind this tradition, to give his gift to Hob on this day instead of any other.

As always, he is welcomed inside with that same, lovely smile he has adored the sight of since he was first gifted it the day of his return. It is blinding in its radiance, so lovely, and Dream thinks he understands the meaning of reverence every time he sees it. It is a gift in and of itself, that warmth, that joy at seeing him, and he is selfish enough to hold the memory of it close to his chest, to return to the Waking for the sole purpose of being blessed with it once more.

It has become quite a problem. His mind turns so often to Hob Gadling, to that smile, that he has begun to create dreams of comfort and succour around it. Lucienne's knowing look the last time it happened remains forever ingrained inside his mind, now.

"Wasn't expecting to see you today," Hob tells him, but he sounds pleased about it. Somehow, he always does. Dream remains ever-baffled by that particular fact, but is too selfish to risk giving it up by questioning it. "How're you, love? How's your day been?"

Inside his chest, his heart warms. He has no use for a heart, not really. It does nothing for him. He does not typically have one, either, but there is something about being here, with Hob, that makes him stray a little closer towards humanity. He can feel the warmth of Hob's apartment, the cosiness that leads to a sense of security, greater this way. He does not mind fashioning himself a little more human for the sake of those things, however unconsciously.

"Well," he answers. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. The gift in his pocket seems...heavier, suddenly, or perhaps he is all-too aware of it. "I have a gift. For you."

Eyes widening, Hob blinks at him. "Oh, do you?" he asks, and he already sounds delighted. It soothes some of the nerves that have made themselves known, and Dream sighs softly. "You didn't have to do that, love."

"I wanted to. You mean...much to me, Hob Gadling." It is stilted, that admission, more than he wants it to be.

He is rewarded with a faint flush to Hob's cheeks regardless as he steps closer to Dream, that smile growing wider. "And you mean much to me too, Dream. I have to admit, I'm curious now."

He digs his hand into the pocket of his coat. It is functional only when he wants it to be; he hadn't wanted to lose this gift to the galaxies that line it, not when it is so important.

When he pulls his hand away, he holds out a small, black box and holds it towards Hob. His heart is in his throat now, terrified and nervous. "For you, my friend."

His excitement is palpable when he takes the box from Dream's hand, fingertips brushing his palm for just a moment. When he opens it, his eyes widen further for a moment, until he eventually plucks the ring from the box. "Dream." His voice is choked when he says it. "This is..."

The gold of the ring shines in the low light of Hob's apartment, the ruby shard glinting. "It was made by my own power," he explains. "The jewel is a shard from my own ruby. You can...communicate with me through it, should you wish to." This, Hob has mentioned already—I'd like some way to contact you, if possible, he'd whispered softly, not long after Dream gained the courage to tell the story surrounding his absence in 1989. In case...In case something like that happens again.

It was, in the end, a small request. One he thought he could fulfil easily.

The silence that grows between the two of them now, though, makes him think differently. "Should I have written you a poem instead?" he asks. It is a lot, he supposes, to gift his friend a ring of all things, even if he wishes to be a little bit more with said friend. Perhaps he should've asked Matthew for his opinion after all. "You need not—"

Whatever he was going to finish that sentence with gets quickly cut off when Hob meets his eyes. There's a faint sheen to them, the beginnings of tears, and Dream has only a moment to panic over the sight before his friend slips the ring on his finger. It fits perfectly, just as he planned for it to, and he begins to say as such, but he's interrupted when Hob strides forward, closing the distance between the two of them.

The expression on his face is open, warm. "If I'm mistaken," he whispers softly, "I apologise. Please don't smite me for asking, but—may I kiss you, Dream?"

His heart jumps. "Yes," he breathes. "I would like that."

Lips quirking, Hob says, "Good," before he cups the back of Dream's head, fingers weaving through his hair and gripping lightly, and kisses Dream lightly.

It is tender. Warm and loving. Something snaps inside him instantly, whatever restraint he let hold him back abandoning him as he grasps his friend's waist and pulls him closer, allowing his lips to move against Hob's. It is lovely, everything Dream has imagined it could be.

Eventually, Hob pulls away, resting his forehead against Dream's. "Not mistaken, then," he murmurs between them, chuckling softly. He continues to play with the hair at the back of his head, and Dream shivers.

"Not at all," he says, and kisses Hob once more.

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: For some reason, when Eddie's around you, he doesn't feel like a piece of shit- he's really starting to like that about you. Your feelings for Eddie are growing past 'friendship' feelings, but you sure as hell aren't telling Eddie that. Robin is perceptive as hell.

Word Count: 4.9k

Tags for Entire Fic (from AO3): Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Inspired by When Harry Met Sally (1989), Slow Burn, Romantic Fluff, Good Friend Robin Buckley, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Eddie Munson Lives, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, no one dies, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut

Divider was created by the lovely and talented @hellfire--cult❤️

Part 1 | Part 2

Part 3

Spring, 1983

“How on earth are you failing shop?”

Your voice landed in the thick quiet of Eddie’s van halfway between a question and a laugh, and Eddie could feel a blush creeping up his neck as he tried to laugh it off. 

“Eh, I failed a project way back where I was supposed to make this birdhouse or something and I never turned it in…”

He didn’t miss the concern in your voice when you replied, “And you never thought to just ask for an extension? Did you at least start it?”

Eddie’s silence spoke volumes.

“Eddie!” you shoved him lightly on the shoulder, and he winced. Not from pain, you’d barely shoved at all- he winced out of embarrassment. 

You were smart. He didn’t need to look at your report card to know someone like you had never failed a class as simple as shop before. By all means, it should have been an easy A; Mr. McCarthy didn’t grade based on skill, his projects were easy to ace as long as you followed the rubric. The hard part was that Eddie was a serial procrastinator, especially when it came to projects. He’d kept telling himself that he would start the project later, start it tomorrow, start it this weekend, etc. Now here he was, a month after it was due, and a month before the school year ended- still no project, and no amount of minor assignments would help him to regain a passing grade in that class.

“It’s no big deal, they can’t make me repeat the year just because I failed an elective class. I’ll just take another elective credit next year instead of a study hall-”

“Eddie!”

The tone of your voice surprised him, firm and all-business, almost like a reprimand. He glanced at you sheepishly. “What?”

He wasn’t sure why he’d expected you to be angry with him. Perhaps Eddie had grown so used to getting lectured by those that mattered to him that the idea of you doing the same wasn’t that much of a stretch. But when Eddie saw your expression, it wasn’t one of anger, but confusion.

“Do you hear yourself?” You asked. Your voice was firm, leaving no room for any argument. “It’s like you’ve already given up and you still have a whole month before junior year ends.”

Eddie shook his head. “The project was due in March, there’s no way McCarthy would let me turn it in this late-”

“Have you asked?”

Another silence, equally telling as the last. 

You turned your attention to the street ahead, arms crossed over your chest and a satisfied look on your face. “Well, you’re going to ask him Monday if he’d accept your birdhouse late.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “Oh that’s what I’m gonna do, huh?” 

You nodded, smiling smugly. “Mm-hm!”

“And then I’m going to build a birdhouse?” 

“You are, and I’m going to help you.”

That, Eddie hadn’t expected. “You’re gonna… what?” 

You smiled at him, pulling your backpack up into your lap and hugging it to your middle. Eddie remembered you doing that last week too; he wondered if that was something you did subconsciously, always needing something to hug against yourself to feel comfort in some way. “I’m going to help you. My dad has some tools and scrap wood in the shed out behind our house, so we can go there if you want. Either way, I am not letting you fail shop class unless you did every possible thing you could have to pass.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say. His friends were always happy to help him with homework, even let him copy off of them from time to time- but this? He felt a bit overwhelmed at your eagerness, borderline pushiness, to help him.

“You really don’t need to go through the trouble-”

You gave him a stern look that sent his eyes straight back to the road ahead. “Munson, if you try to get out of building a damn birdhouse I swear I’m changing the radio station to whatever popular girly crap is playing right now.” 

Eddie shut his mouth, button eyes blown wide. “Understood, yes ma’am.” 

He pretended that the thumping of his overzealous heart was just the heavy bass from the radio.

To Eddie’s surprise- and your satisfaction- Mr. McCarthy agreed to grant Eddie an extension. If he was able to present a finished birdhouse by the end of the school year, Eddie could receive credit for it with an automatic ten point deduction for being tardy. You thought ten points was generous of him, and while Eddie secretly agreed, he wasn’t about to criticize the hand that fed him. 

So, per your request (which Eddie could tell was non-negotiable, so not much of a request, really) Eddie stayed with you after school while you tutored some freshman in preparation for their English Lit final and drove you back to your house when you were done. This time, however, he went inside with you to begin construction on the birdhouse that would (hopefully) save his grade.

Your dad had been more than happy to help Eddie with figuring out how big to cut each of the wood pieces, teaching him to measure twice, cut once, blah blah blah. All of that adorable fatherly stuff. It was very cute for you to watch- your dad, who had initially been less smiley, a bit more taciturn than usual because his daughter was bringing a boy by the house to work on a project and he’d been intent on snuffing out any ill-intentions towards you, instantly falling back into his everyday, effortlessly smiley exterior the moment Eddie told him that his woodworking hobby was “actually really cool”. 

Something about Eddie seemed to do that to people- he melted away the person you projected, leaving behind the person you were at your core. You could see it so clearly on your dad’s face as the two of them sketched out lines on a piece of scrap wood. Eddie marked one piece with a little cartoonish-looking skull, and when your dad saw it he asked Eddie if he likes to draw- and then the conversation simply flowed from there easily. You couldn’t wipe the sappy smile from your face. 

Your dad stayed to advise until he could tell that Eddie had a good grasp on how to use the tools at his disposal, and jokingly made sure Eddie knew you were the one in charge whenever the two of you were left to your own devices. Eddie had responded with a mockingly serious salute, which only made your dad smile wider. 

“He likes you.” you’d said once you were sure your dad was out of earshot. 

Eddie huffed out an embarrassed chuckle, eyes staying focused on his work while the corner of his mouth quirked up in a sardonic smile. “Yeah, well, he probably just hasn’t heard much about me then.”

You studied him, half amused and half pained that he was once again refusing to take a compliment of his character. Turning your attention to the tiny wooden dowel you intended to turn into a perch for the birdhouse, you continued. “Oh he’s heard about you. Just, everything he’s heard, he heard from me. So no, no bad things.”

That got Eddie’s attention. “Really?” he asked incredulously, looking at you with one eyebrow raised. “No bad things? Not a single one?”

“Nope, no bad things. He’s heard annoying things, though. Infuriating things. I told him to warn the HOA about you.”

“Oh, did you now?”

“Scouts’ honor, we have a certain standard to uphold around here, you know.”                                                                                                                  

Twin smiles played on your lips, evidence for the joy it brought both of you to be around each other. You both worked wordlessly, letting the sounds of sandpaper and sharp tools on wood fill the pleasantly warm air in the shed. 

“What about you?”

His vague question earned a glance from your direction. “What about me?” you asked.

“Well, if I’m so infuriating and annoying, why do you care so much about whether or not I pass this class?” Eddie’s sentence trailed off into a breathy, nearly imperceptible tremor that told you he cared about your answer. 

“You might be infuriating and annoying,” you said, matter-of-fact, “but you’re smart. Way too smart to fail shop because of something as stupid as a missing grade.”

Eddie was quick to brush off your compliment. “You know some might say that missing a due date is something only a stupid person would do,” he looked up at you with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “so I would argue that that alone makes me-”

“Eddie, stop.”

His lips clamped shut. 

You placed the wooden pieces in your hands down on the floor before walking up to him and stopping about a foot from where he sat. Your eyebrows were drawn together menacingly, your arms were crossed over your chest, and your tone reminded Eddie of what it must be like to be in trouble with Mom.

“Look Munson,” you began sharply, “You are a very intelligent person. I am not saying that to flatter you because I couldn’t care less about giving you empty compliments or not. I’m just stating a fact: you are smart.” 

His gaze was trained on the floor, unsure what to do with himself. Brown eyes flicked up to yours through his dark chocolate curls and back down again.

“And I don’t know who made you think you’re so much of a lost cause that you give up before asking for help, but I’ve never been one to watch smart people let themselves down and be okay with it.” You held out your hand palm facing upwards between your chests. “So hand me the wood glue so I can give the lucky birds who get to live in this fancy joint a little perch to stand on.”

He did what you asked, quiet and hiding behind the curtain of his mane. It wasn’t until you were back in your seat that he finally spoke up.

“You know-” 

You looked up at him, a soft smile teasing the corner of your lips, and you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself as you processed the fondness that shone in his eyes. 

“-you’re a little scary when you’re angry.” 

You snorted. “Good. Maybe I can scare you into fulfilling your potential.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure what that potential was, exactly. His life was doomed from the start to complete its natural cycle within the same hundred square miles, so he figured his potential was to… work at the power plant with Wayne? Be a bartender at The Hideout? Drink himself to death when his life got too depressing to deal with anymore? 

Okay, maybe that last one was a little too dark. But realistically, he knew that would probably cross his mind after enough time spent in this hell-hole of a town. 

Now there was a smart girl telling him he was capable of more than that, and his first instinct was to wonder if Wayne had put you up to giving him a pep talk or something… but that was way too sneaky for Wayne, who had only heard about you in passing at this point, so there was no way he’d asked you... which meant that you, a smart girl, truly believed that he- Eddie Munson- was a smart guy. 

Huh. 

Well how about that.

True to his word, Mr. McCarthy accepted Eddie’s birdhouse when he brought it to class that Friday. He chuckled when he saw the little horned devil symbol painted in the corner on the back. He peered questioningly at Eddie when he caught sight of the pentagram that had been drawn on the floor of the inside, to which Eddie had replied, “In case they want to perform any ritualistic sacrifices in there.” 

When he’d handed Eddie his graded rubric, there were minimal notes written in red, but when Eddie looked at the little blank labeled ‘total’, nothing else mattered. 

90/100

Which meant that without the ten point deduction, Eddie would have made a 100%. His work- sans tardiness- was worth a 100%. Eddie was baffled, stunned- he couldn’t remember the last time his work had been deemed worthy of a ‘100’ circled in red pen at the top of his paper since elementary school.

“I got a 90%!” 

He was practically giddy when he told you. Shop was his last class of the day, after which he had run straight to your locker to show you the rubric. You were excited for him, of course, but you hadn’t been surprised in the slightest. 

“And that brings your average in the class up to…?” You asked with a knowing smile. 

Eddie clutched the precious page to his chest, swooning as he threw his back against the locker beside yours. “72.” He sighed, content and over the moon. “You’re a miracle worker, you know that? You took this sad, pathetic, stupid little boy-” He splayed a dramatic hand over his heart. “-and you wanna know what you did?” 

You smiled wryly, closing your locker door. “Uh huh?”

His face contorted in the most joyful way possible- a smile showing every tooth, crinkling the corners of his eyes, brow scrunching from the passion with which he gripped that flimsy piece of paper and shook it in your face.

“You got him a fucking A, you genius!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as the two of you walked through the halls to the theater department for Hellfire. “You did all the work! You got yourself  that A.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Eddie wagged his pointer finger back and forth. “No, that’s not what I said, I said it was a fucking A.”

You looked at him, confusion evident in your eyes. “Yes, that’s what I said, you got yourself that A! I barely did a thing.”

He was quiet, grinning ear to ear as he narrowed his eyes on you. “Oh… oh you sweet, sweet thing…” 

Whoa now, that gave you butterflies. 

You casually turned your eyes in the opposite direction of where Eddie walked by your side, hoping he couldn’t sense your reaction. “What?”

Eddie chuckled, positioning himself directly in your line of sight. “Don’t hide from me, come on-” You looked up begrudgingly, taking in his amused expression. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say fuck.” 

“What? That’s ridiculous, I’ve said it.”

“Not in front of me!”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t say it often.” you shrugged, eyes darting literally anywhere but his face- again. “So what? There are so many other better words I could use-”

“But can you say it?” 

At that, your eyes met his, and you made sure to sprinkle a little venom into that eye contact. “Of course I can say it, I’m just choosing not to.” 

Eddie was undeterred. “Then choose to say it just this once, I want to know what the word ‘fuck’ sounds like in your sweet little innocent voice.” His puppy dog eyes glistened as he pouted. 

You glared, smacking your hand against a door that threatened to close before you could pass through it, and angrily shoving it aside. “I am not innocent or little, thank you very much.” 

“Awwww, come on, Ace,  just one little f-bomb?” 

“No.” 

“Not even for me?”

“No!”

“Uuugghhhh,” Eddie sighed, throwing up his hands exasperatedly as the two of you approached the twin set of doors that led to the auditorium. “Fine.” He hopped ahead of you, opening one of the doors for you. “After you.” 

You should have seen it coming, but you still yelped when Eddie jabbed his fingers into a tickle spot in the curve of your waist as you walked past him. 

“FUCK! Eddie!” you practically squealed. 

You shook your head in disbelief as he skipped down the narrow aisle of seats toward the stage, throwing a fist victoriously up in the air. 

“Hahaaa, there it is!” He cackled. 

You may have acted annoyed with him, but nothing could deny the brightness in your smile seeing him overtaken with so much joy. That joy translated so easily into his storytelling during D&D that when you had finished your work on the set for the play- which was only two weeks away now- you didn’t even pretend to be busy with anything else this time. You grabbed a wooden stool from backstage, tugged it close enough to the table to see the story playing out before you, and simply watched Eddie do one of the things in his life that truly made him come alive. 

What you didn’t realize was that there was now another thing that seemed to bring out the best parts of him the same way that D&D did, the same way that music did, the same way that curling up and rereading The Hobbit did. And when Eddie heard the drag of your wooden stool across the black surface of the floor, glanced over his shoulder and saw your eager, shining eyes glowing brightly at him, drinking in every word that left his lips- that was when he realized it.

 He realized that you were quickly becoming one of the things that made him love waking up in the morning.

Eddie had, admittedly, never been to a play before. He’d been in a play, but that was back in the fifth grade, and it was more of a Christmas pageant than an actual play. He had played one of the three wise men, and all he could remember from it was his teacher chewing him out for his improvised line- “Myrrh-y Christmas, Jesus”- when he’d placed his prop-gift into baby Jesus’ manger. That had been the prompt end of his acting career.

Now, as he tried his best to look nonchalant with his hands in his pockets, he couldn’t help but feel particularly out of place while his eyes frantically searched for a place to sit in the auditorium that would give him the perfect balance of empty seats and proximity to people he knew wouldn’t recognize him. The last thing he needed was another reason for his usual bullies to mess with him. 

“Munson! Hey, Eddie! Over here!”

Eddie’s attention flicked over to a seat toward the back, occupied by none other than Robin Buckley, who was absolutely ruining his efforts to act cool. He rushed to where she sat while trying his best to wordlessly communicate SHUT. UP. with only his eyes. Oblivious to Eddie’s plea, Robin patted the empty seat beside her.

“I didn’t know you would be here!” her voice was loud- that was something he already knew- but it still rang uncomfortably in his ears. 

“I’m right here, Buckley, no need to yell.” Eddie hissed, crouching in his seat as if he could make himself smaller just by trying. “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly have other plans, and I knew this was going on and…yeah.” 

Robin watched Eddie stumble through his poor attempt at nonchalance, a knowing grin taking up residence on her mouth. When he clumsily arrived at the end of his sentence, she simply kept smiling at him, which unnerved him greatly. He averted his eyes, leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm over the rest an elbow atop its back. “What?” he scoffed, once again trying to appear indifferent- it didn’t work well, at which Robin snorted. 

She shook her head, chuckling silently. “She’s going to be so happy you showed up.” 

Well if that didn’t make his chest feel as though it was about to inflate and fly away, nothing did.

Regardless, Eddie still acted cool- or tried to, at least. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” but the red crawling up his neck and the sappy grin that he just couldn’t fend off gave him away. Robin groaned, pretending to be fed up even though she actually thought the way he reacted when you were simply mentioned was the cutest thing she’d ever seen in her life. Even though she knew he didn’t need reminding, she still said your name just to see if his blush would grow even deeper when he heard it. She was rewarded. 

Eddie nodded in recognition, sticking to his bit. “Oh yeah, I forgot she was helping out with this thing. That’s uh… that’s cool-”

“Oh shove it, Munson, quit playing the indifferent cool guy.” she shoved a finger in his face. “You like her.” 

He scoffed- again- and rolled his eyes a little too hard. “Lay off it, Buckley, we’re just friends.” 

Robin raised an eyebrow, obviously not buying it. “Really? That’s it?”

Eddie remained neutral in his tone, shrugging as if the whole situation were just that cut-and-dry. “Yup. That’s it.”

She looked at him for a long time- a long time, with a gaze so intense it made Eddie a bit uncomfortable. It felt like letting go of a breath he’d been holding when Eddie finally heard Robin’s “If you say so.” 

Eddie nodded. “I do say so.”

Judging by Robin’s facial expression, she still didn’t buy it, but she seemed willing to drop the topic. “Okay then.”

“Okay.” Eddie mumbled, just in time for the lights on the stage to go down. 

It only took about ten minutes of the play to go by for Eddie to start wondering if seeing you at the end of the production was going to be worth sitting here for an hour and a half. However, when the curtain had finally closed and he saw the look on your face upon seeing him standing there with Robin at the end of the arts hallway- that long hour and a half melted away. 

You were dressed all in black just like a few other crew members that Eddie saw scuttling about, carrying certain props and costume pieces. Pulling away from a hug that you’d bestowed upon Robin immediately after seeing her, your eyes focused on him and he couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Eddie Munson, did you actually sit through an entire theater production of your own free will?” you asked through a toothy smile. 

Hands in his pockets, Eddie shrugged and hid his smirk behind long stray curls. “Yeah, maybe.”

He was quiet. You were quiet. You were both just… smiling at each other. Like idiots. Robin shook her head in disbelief. 

“You’re both idiots.” she mumbled, dumbfounded.

You blinked. “What?”

“I said ‘Let’s go get burgers!’ I’m starving.” Robin began walking with you down the hall toward the exit. “Coming, Munson?”

You looked at him, wide-eyed. He struggled to read your expression- were you expecting Buckley to invite him? Were you hoping he would say yes? Say no? Eddie stuttered, clearing his throat. 

“I mean, if you want me to-”

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah! I mean, if you want to-”

“I don’t want to impose-”

“Don’t feel like you have to-”

“Oh my god!” Robin stomped over to Eddie, grabbing him by his upper arm and dragging you in the same spot with her upper hand. “You both want food! Let’s go get food!” Eddie had to suppress a chuckle upon hearing Robin’s muttered ‘God, you two are fucking children’ under her breath. Your gazes connected behind Robin’s head, both of your faces sporting a small, crinkled grin- shy and sharing. 

Thank god for Robin. 

Eddie was happy to throw Robin’s bike in the back of his van; happy to drive the two of you to the diner downtown in lieu of meeting you there. Happy- and relieved- to discover that even though he had only ever spent time with you alone or with his friends, he was able to fall into comfortable conversation with you and your friend the same way that you had nestled your way into his friends’ routine so easily. It had been ages since one of the Hellfire members had glanced your way during a session, nervous to throw themselves into the game while an outsider was in the room waiting to judge them. They learned- Eddie learned- pretty quickly that you would never judge them. Pretty soon, you weren’t an outsider- you were just a part of their Friday plans. 

Eddie’s mind began to wonder, as he drove the two of you down the main road, now that the play was over, and you had no reason to keep showing up to Hellfire, what excuse would Eddie have to see you? Summer was fast approaching, so you wouldn’t be seeing each other at school each day either. Suddenly, Eddie wasn’t just wondering, he was worrying. Without an excuse to see you, would this burgeoning little friendship just…fall? Just stop? 

“Hey, Eddie? You awake over there?” you snapped your fingers by Eddie’s ear, and he flinched away slightly as a nervous laugh bubbled up his throat. 

“Sorry,” Eddie said, his voice light. “Just got lost in thought I guess.”

If the two of you were alone, you would have asked him what he was thinking about. However, Robin was here- it was a strange sort of limbo you felt you were in, your childhood best friend and your newly-discovered… friend. Crush. Maybe-crush? The way you felt about Eddie was becoming increasingly difficult for you to pinpoint. You knew you loved being around him. You knew that your heart had done a complete backflip when you’d seen him waiting with Robin after the play. Eddie Munson did not attend school functions. When you’d seen him at the winter formal years ago, you hadn’t even seen him inside- as far as you’d known, he hadn’t gone with a date… maybe he’d gone with friends? Or he was someone’s ride? Either way, the fact that he would go to a play simply because you were involved in it was certainly enough to give you heart palpitations.

When the three of you arrived at the diner, the energy was a little odd between the three of you. Robin watched as you and Eddie had gone from comfortably chatty to eerily quiet. It seemed that you both were caught up in your own spiraling thoughts, and the awkwardness that it was causing was going to make Robin scream if it didn’t stop soon.

“So Eddie,” Robin said as you all sat down in one of the plasticky blue booths in the diner, “what are your summer plans?”

It seemed to take a second for Eddie to register what Robin was asking; he tilted his head to the side, taking a second to consider. “Haven’t thought about it…honestly, I figured I might be busy with summer school or something if I wasn’t passing all my classes-”

“-Which, you are.” you interrupted, a soft, proud smile on your lips.

Eddie laughed, and Robin couldn’t help but notice that his biggest smiles always happened when he was looking at you.

“Yeah, thanks to you.” Eddie replied, quickly turning to the waitress as she walked up to your table, closing the window of time you had to deny the credit he was hell-bent on giving you. The three of you each ordered a burger and a milkshake before Robin took it upon herself to carry on the conversation. 

“Think you’ll get a summer job?” she asked Eddie with a nefarious grin. “You could work at Scoops with us, you get a pretty sweet outfit out of the gig.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, “Hah! I’ll pass on the shorts, thanks.” 

You cursed your brain for conjuring up the image of Eddie in shorts, then proceeded to burn that image in your brain.

“You bring up a good point, though,” he mused, “Wayne and I could use the money. I pick up odd jobs around the neighborhood, but most of the old farts around the park just throw me whatever they find between their couch cushions.” 

The waitress set your shake in front of you, which you eagerly grabbed and took a sip. “I can keep an eye out for places that are hiring, if you want.” You smiled at Eddie, bright red straw lightly resting against your lips. 

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully, “Just don’t go asking at any places where I’ll have to wear some stupid outfit.”

“Hey!” you narrowed your eyes on him, a teasing glint in your gaze. “I happen to think I look cute in that stupid outfit.”

Eddie had no doubt that you did, but he wasn’t about to tell you that. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Smee.” 

Robin snorted, shaking her head at the two of you. She was astounded at your combined talents for ignoring the undeniable chemistry that the two of you had whenever you shared each others’ spaces. She saw it all- the way he seemed so completely unaffected by everything except for you. The way that whenever he was around, you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him. The way that you both refused to admit that your friendship had an expiration date- you both wanted to be more than friends, and that much was clear as day to Robin. It was only a matter of time before one of you cracked. A ticking time bomb.

Robin resolved to confront you about it at some point. Not tonight; tonight, she was content to watch the two of you idiots tripping over yourselves while you pretended not to be absolutely besotted with each other- it was free entertainment. But she’d ask you about it soon. 

For now, she settled for laughing at the way you pretended to be mad at Eddie as he spent the whole meal trying to sneak fries from your plate. 

Part 4

[flymetosnarryland]

A little progress.

I'm working on "Infraction." My precious baby, uh. This art is part of it in a way. Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape. When people are falling in love everything seems easy, but then life happen.

(I'd like to talk about how things are going with Infraction.)

I'm back on it since couple of weeks and working on it is intense (my brain is literally boiling). I don't think I ever planned a story for that long. The first idea has born 6th January this year. I was writing down (like crazy) everything I wanted to be in this fic. During first months it was chaotic and messy, but brought me so much joy. When I've had everything that (I thought) I needed, I wrote first chapters, yeah. And then shared them, because was so excited about all of it and just couldn't wait. Gosh.

Now I... hm... well, maybe not "regret" it, but I think, I totally should have wait. Why is that? First thing first, this story is not ready yet for being written in, you know, final version. It's too fat, lol.

I may want too much from it. There is a lot, like, seriously, A LOT of things to cover. First notes took me around 80 pages and it had many gaps in it (too much if you ask me). Things I needed to figure out and fill in, in the same time making everything work together. Because this Snarry is not sprinkled with crime. It's filled with murder, political shenanigans, family shiteshow and tough, not always appropriate, love. There are secrets and lies, blackmails and history that matter. Backstory of many people, whose actions over the years supposed to bring us to the point where we are now. And, you know, all of it gives me the thrill. First time in my life I feel like a true Puppet Master.

So, couple weeks ago I started to write a proper outline, if I can call it like that. To put everything in order and, going from the very beginning, to fill all the gaps. To answer all the questions I was asking myself in notes. To figure out the missing clues, some details without I couldn't go further and with that - to find out how characters will change facing new situations. How they will grow (I really love this part). Sometimes I think, "why am I even doing it?" I could just write some cosy, little fic where Harry and Severus' silly problems would be the main goal of the story. Like, focusing on them should be enough, right? Why am I going for all the other things, if I just want them to shag and have their happy end after all? 😂

Well, if it's not for fun, I don't know the other reason. The level of excitement is just incredible. I don't know, if what I'm writing is good or bad. If it really has sense, because I've always seen myself rather as a potato, not as a great mastermind who can plot some good shite, you know. That said, "Infraction" feels even more challenging that I ever thought it will be. But I feel deep inside that I can do it. Going step by step where the main plan leads and... it just feels good.

I've started in October 1989. Now I'm in January 2011. It means that I managed to finish everything that happen before the fic starts, lol. And, actually, I almost covered the first part of the book. So, two more to go? Hehe. It'll take time, yes. It's crazy how much I want to continue writing the main chapters, not only swim in the plan-phase. Drawing the series of "Muggle London" art helped me a lot with easing this itch. However, it's still there. I know, though, that I have to finish it. The whole outline, I mean. Without it, things can go south.

That said, I can't tell how long it will take. Couple weeks? Maybe months. This is really... a lot of work and I want to be proud of it. Even more so, because this fic means a lot to me. I know it may not be, you know, mind blowing or something. But I hope that giving it all my love, it could be, you know, not that bad for reading, hehe.

[izunias-meme-hole]

Since you've been rebloging this clown like crazy, who are your favorite Jokers?

Oh no... how could I ever choose?

Anyway.

Number 10. 1966/Caesar Romero - He's the most iconic of the purely campy Jokers, and honestly he's just fun. I know that's not a heavy reason to like this iteration of the character, but it's true.

Number 9. Gotham - The Valeska Twins share a spot, purely because Cameron Monaghan's performance as them was so great. First there was Jerome, who was originally supposed to be a one-off possible Joker, and remained that way throughout the entire show even as he became somewhat of a Proto-Joker that was simultaneously heinous and fun. Though near the end of the show's 4th season, Jerome dies, but his twin brother Jeremiah ends up getting infected with an insanity gas that his brother cooked up, turning Jeremiah into a Golden Age inspired Proto-Joker who slowly evolves into the clown that we're more familiar with.

Number 8. The Batman 2004 - This clown offers almost everything you'd want, but they're all packed within an extremely different exterior! His bare feet, dreads that resemble a jesters hat, Kevin Michael Richardson voicing him, and just how athletic and animalistic he is make this Joker unique, even if what he brings to the table is still pure fun mixed with genuine heinousness and a bat obsession.

Number 7. Arthur Fleck - I gave my thoughts on poor Arthur already, but if you want the short version, Arthur is a paradox. His dynamic with Batman is a "brothers reborn on the same day" type of deal, he's a lot more of a pathetic guy you'd see on the street, his appearance is different, and overall he's not the Clown Prince of Crime that we're used to at all (which is why the incels ignore his worst bits and praise him). Yet at the same time, he's got the laugh, he gained the confidence, he's got the mindset, he's got levels of uncertainty about his own history, the belief of life being one big joke, Phoenix's entire physique and his performance in the latter half of the film, and overall he's just undeniably Joker on some levels. He's never gonna be my all-time favorite, but he's at least on this list at a decent spot.

Number 6. Arkhamverse - Despite having that shit final boss and his bad habit of constantly overshadowing other villains, Joker in these games is an absolute blast to see and hear. Doesn't matter that he's a big bad, a secondary antagonist, or just "flirting with Batsy", he's great. It also helps that both Mark Hamill and Troy Baker do a phenomenal job at bringing him to life.

Number 5. Golden Age - Ah, Original!Joker my beloved. A scary as shit cunning sociopath with a haunting grin, clownish exterior, and a nice purple suit who just came outta nowhere. Plain, simple, yet very effective at the time.

Number 4. Batman 1989/Jack Nicholson - Perfect casting, perfect costume, feels like he leapt straight outta the comics and onto the big screen, and he has a near perfect origin. If only he wasn't responsible for the death of the Waynes. Still he's a phenomenal Joker and an ICON.

Number 3. Nolanverse/Heath Ledger - I swear to god Heath Ledger's take on Joker is the definition of "don't judge a book by its cover" because while he kinda spawned more cringeworthy and edgier Jokers (Lookin' at the New 52 & Leto), he also manages to distill the essence of the character perfectly. He's colorful yet subtle, funny yet terrifying, arrogant yet self-deprecating, brilliant yet insane, motivated to cause chaos yet feeling the need to justify that chaos to the rest of the world, hates Batman yet loves him, and he just simply exists.

Number 2. BTAS/DCAU - Forever the definitive Joker adaptation. Mark Hamill's voice was perfect for the clown, his designs are iconic, his origin being a perfect blend between "we know what he's about" and "we don't know shit," he's still funny yet terrifying, he's a chaotic artist, his toxic dynamic with Harley Quinn was perfect (which is funny since Quinn was invented FOR BTAS), his death and actual defeat were cathartic, and overall this was the Definitive Joker.

Number 1. Post-Crisis Comics - We got Joker's Five-Way Revenge, Laughing Fish, Dreadful Birthday Joker, The Killing Joke, and A Death In The Family out of this iteration of the character, all of which pretty much came to define The Joker in one way or another, for better or worse. Out of all of the reboots of DC's universe, Post-Crisis had the best Comic!Joker, and in all honestly just the best Joker in general.

[sehodreams]

RIIZE AS TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Hey guys, so I saw @///gyuvision doing this and I thought it was the cutest thing ever, she did it so well I couldn't stop thinking about them when I heard music, to be honest I wanted to assign an era to each one but I couldn't decide (except Shotaro, he's definitely 1989, and Anton, he's Lover), so if you like it I’ll try to do that one.

These are songs that make me think about each member when I listen to them, I had so much fun doing this, hope you all enjoy it too!

TW and tags: fluff (?), a bit of toxic!Eunseok, a touch of angst, mentions of first time with Anton but nothing explicit (by the way they’re 18/19), fwb(?)!Wonbin.

WC: 2.1K

Note: This is not dark at all, if you don’t like that kind of content, I don’t recommend you visit my blog.

SEUNGHAN - The Archer

He's been so hurt, and it's even more painful because the people who have been trying to sabotage him are mostly friends, ‘cause all of my enemies started as friends, this song always makes me think of him, and how vulnerable he must feel seeing pictures of his past all around the internet, ‘cause they see right through me, can you see right through me? I see right through me, also, how much he must have felt responsible for the group's reputation, scared of being an obstacle to all the boys and regretting his past, I never grew up, it's getting so old, I'm sure he'll always remember these hard times, I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost, the room is on fire, on invisible smoke, but I hope he learns how to be stronger from this and comes back safely to the group with the same, or a better, energy, combat, I'm ready for combat.

EUNSEOK - False God

Eunseok would give you the most intense love story of your life, with an energy that makes you forget about anything else that isn't him and you two together, I know heaven's a thing, I go there when you touch me, honey hell is when I fight with you, however, I don’t think it’s a love that would last forever, you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it, they all warned us about times like this, they say the roads get hard and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith, and it doesn’t necessarily ends because you two don’t love each other anymore, but because of life circumstances and personalities, and I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, staring out the window like I’m not your favorite town, still, a love like the one you two had was impossible to get over, it doesn’t matter how much you two have tried it, you want to be together again, but we can patch it up good, make confessions and we’re begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you, but you're not good for each other anymore, and you can’t talk to me when I’m like this, daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you, so it becomes unstable, hard to maintain, a secret embarrassing to say out loud to others, but we might just get away with it, religion’s in your lips even if it’s a false god, at least, you two feel satisfied with what you have, because the thought of not being together is more painful than proudly living alone, we’d still worship this love, still worship this love, even if it’s a false god.

SUNGCHAN - You Belong With Me

Sungchan makes me think of friends-to-lovers and mutual pinning, knowing each other all life, you two had to be friends first to start having feelings for each other, I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry, and I know your favorite songs, and you tell me 'bout your dreams, but not daring to ruin your friendship, you try to forget it being with other people, hurting each other in the process, If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see?, both of you have unfulfilling relationships with people you don’t love and that do not love you, and you've got a smile that can light up this whole town, I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down, you say you're fine, I know you better than that, you two know it’s not going to work out because you two need each other to feel really happy, I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be, laughing on a park bench thinking to myself ‘’Hey, isn't this easy?’’, so after much time, none of you can deny what you feel anymore, have you ever thought, just maybe, you belong with me?

SHOTARO - Shake It Off

My sweet boy reminds me of this song because he always brings positivity to whenever he is, But I keep cruising, can’t stop, won’t stop grooving, it’s like I got this music in my mind sayin’, ‘’It’s gonna be alright’’, his pretty smile makes you smile too, and even when the others say he can be scary while dancing, he works hard because he wants to give people the best out of him, and his skills are not just from talent, but from effort and passion, I never miss a beat, I’m lightnin’ on my feet, and that’s what they don’t see, he’s actually a pretty brave boy, grabbing every opportunity that appeared in front of him, following his love for dance and moving alone to Korea, I’m dancin’ on my own, I make the moves up as I go, and that’s what they don’t know, he got to work with NCT to then go to Riize, a risky decision that maybe wasn’t a choice to start, just think, while you’ve been getting’ down and out about the liars, and the dirty dirty cheats of the world, you could’ve been getting’ down to this sick beat, he's a strong boy, and doesn’t matter the obstacles that he sees, he’ll always overcome them and appreciate the process, ‘cause the players gonna play, and the haters gonna hate, baby I’m just gonna shake, shake it off, I shake it off.

Extra: And to the fella over there with the hella good hair, won’t you come on over, baby? We can shake, shake, shake, is Shotaro calling Wonbin to dance together, lol.

SOHEE – Fearless

We all know the comments about Sohee growing up in a family that wasn’t as well positioned economically as the other members, I don’t want to confirm it, but taking that into mind, it makes me think that he comes from a place that, if he hadn’t worked so hard, would have made his dream stay just like that, a dream, there’s something about the way the street looks when it’s just rained, there’s a glow off the pavement, and that, apart from liking to sing, his dream of being a start was pushed by himself with the goal of helping his family get a better life, we’re drivin down the road, I wonder if you know I’m trying so hard not to get caught up now, but you’re so cool, run your hands through your hair, absentmindedly making me want you, always remembering where he comes from and all the support he had, he has values not many do, in this one-horse town, I wanna stay right here, in this passenger’s seat, you put your eyes on me, in this moment now, capture it, remember it, he already met his first goal, debuting, and he’s slowly getting used to a different lifestyle, you pull me in and I’m a little more brave, it’s the first kiss, it’s flawless, really something, it’s fearless, he took a hard decision for anyone in his circumstances and he’s finally seeing results, but he doesn’t take it for granted and continues working hard every day, ‘cause I don’t know how it gets better than this, you take my hand and drag me head first, fearless, showing how courageous he is and how he’ll never stop improving, because fear is not an impediment for him, and I don’t know why but with you, I’d dance, in a storm in my best dress, fearless.

ANTON - Cruel Summer

Anton is summer love, seeing each other again after many years, you two can’t remember how you used to look when you were younger, enjoying meeting as if it was the first time again, but this time, you can’t just be friends anymore, killing me slow, out the window, I’m always waiting for you to be waiting below, doing new things, things you never imagined before, you enjoy exploring a different side of yourself, devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes, tanned skin, friendship bracelets, the ocean and ice creams in the middle of the night, everything is pure pleasure around you two, what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more, everyone tells you to be careful, because summer will have an end, and you know it, so you decide to get the best out of it, sneaking out and having as many experiences together as possible, It’s cool, that’s what I tell ‘em, no rules, in breakable heaven, stealing cheap beers and whisky from your parents to then get sick because you two are too young to know how to hold your liquor, I’m drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar, you don’t want to admit it, but you think you’re the one who is more in love between you two, which hurts, said, ‘’I’m fine’’, but it wasn’t true, I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you, you believe you’re the one who is making most of the effort, risking things you never thought you’d before, and I snuck in through the garden gate, every night that summer just to seal my fate, and you thought he didn’t know about your feelings, but of course he did, who else would give as many things as you did? and I screamed for whatever is worth, ‘’I love you’’, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?, however, to your surprise, you find out you weren’t the one who was more in love, he looks up grinning like a devil, and, even if it ends, you two give each other all the first times anyone could ever wish, and It’s new, the shape of your body, so it’s cruel, but it’s the best summer, it’s blue, the feeling I’ve got, and it’s ooh, whoa, oh it’s a cruel summer.

WONBIN - I Think He Knows

Falling for Wonbin is easy, he draws people to him without even trying, so of course you’re one of his victims too, his footprints on the sidewalk lead to where I can’t stop, go there every night, just to have him near you was enough to enchant you, following him with your eyes all night, you can’t help but go to him, his hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it’s mine, you’re the one who has to start the interaction, and even if you weren’t used to it, you did it, pushing the fear of rejection aside, seeing a man like him was unusual, and you had to shoot your shot, he got that boyish look that I like in a man, it wasn’t as hard as you thought, with confidence, and a weak strategy, you caught his attention too, I am an architect, I’m drawing up the plans, a bit awkward at first, you being the one getting close first made you feel like a young kid running behind her crush again, it’s like I’m 17, nobody understands, no one understands, but you liked it, the nervous eyes, the heart beating, the hands sweating, it was something exciting that reminded you of good times, he got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue, but you weren’t a child anymore, that interaction wouldn’t end with you two holding hands, and with him reciprocating the energy, you felt it coming, got that, ah, I mean, wanna see what’s under that attitude, like, I want you, bless my soul, and I ain’t gotta tell him, I think he knows, and unlike the meeting, the touches weren’t awkward at all, both of you perfectly knowing what to do to satisfy each other, when we get all alone, I’ll make myself at home, and he’ll want me to stay, but you knew his type, and he knew yours, or so he thought, because after a couple of meetings and getting to know the real you, I think he knows he’d better lock it down or I won’t stick around, ‘cause good ones never wait, he didn’t want to let you go anymore, he’s so obsessed with me and boy I understand, boy I understand, he was new to approaching someone, always being the approached one, but again, with a bit of your help, everything was possible, lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we could follow the sparks, I’ll drive, and just like falling for him, being with him was easy too, because after you showed him the path, he knew what to do, ‘’So where we gonna go?’’ I whisper in the dark, ‘’Where we gonna go?’’ I think he knows.

[vodika-vibes]

Love Everlasting

Summary: You've lived a thousand lifetimes, and lived a thousand loves, with the same man. And now you want to find him again, in the middle of a galaxy at war.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1989

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, reader and Echo have died multiple times, but they always find each other again

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @the-bad-batch-baroness @kiss-anon

A/N: I wanted to write tooth rotting fluff, and so this was born. Echo will be happy and healthy, even if I have to write it myself.

Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you’re able to run through all of the first times you met him like it’s a movie.

From the very first time, when he was just a boy and you were just a girl, and it didn’t matter that you came from different worlds, and it didn’t matter that he was royalty and you were the daughter of a slave. And nothing mattered except that there was love and it was real and it was yours.

To the most recent time, when he was a Jedi and you were a Sith, and yet you still managed to find each other, and you still managed to find love, though you stood on separate sides of the battlefield.

Thousands of lifetimes.

Thousands of loves.

And it’s always the same. It’s always him. It’s always you. And you’re always happy, for a time.

But it never lasts.

The first life ended in pain and blood, with his screams ringing in your ears and a promise that he would find you again.

And he did. Over and over and over-

Sometimes he doesn’t recognize you. Sometimes he does. It doesn’t matter, because you always recognize him. 

You’re fortunate, in this life. You weren’t born a jedi, nor a sith. You were born on Coruscant, and you were born to a middle class family, with parents who loved you and wanted your happiness.

You haven’t always been so lucky. 

You started looking for him when you were a child, before you really understood that your dreams were memories of past lives. You searched and you searched, though you didn’t understand who you were searching for. 

And at times you ached that you would never see him. 

And at times you feared that this was it. This was the lifetime that you wouldn’t be together. 

And then the war started. And as you watch the news with your parents, and as you learn about the clones, you know that that’s where he is. So you drop your life, your career, and everything that’s ever made you happy in this life, and you enlist.

It’s not the first time you’ve been a soldier. It won’t be the last time, you’re sure. It’s not even the first time you’ve enlisted to try and find him. In fact, by your reckoning, this is the twelfth time you’ve enlisted in the military to try and find him.

Well, unless you count the time with the pirates, which you do not.

You start out with a posting at Triple Zero. And it takes you less than 6 months to determine that he’s not on Coruscant. So you start needling your Commanding Officer, and you end up with a transfer to the 91st.

And then the 104th. And the 212th.

And finally the 501st.

You stand before Captain Rex and General Skywalker, your hands folded neatly behind you, as the blonde clone reads over your profile, “You’ve been bounced from several battalions, Sergeant.” Rex says slowly, as he handed the datapad over to General Skywalker, “There are dozens of commendations for your actions in battle, and your military strategy-”

“Yes sir, there are.”

“What Rex is wondering, and what I’m wondering,” General Skywalker says smoothly, “Is why none of those other Battalions worked out.”

You nod once, luckily you have an answer for this, “Conflict of personalities, General.” You say promptly, “Commanders Fox, Neyo, Wolffe, and Cody are fine men and I was lucky to have to have the chance to work with all of them, but our personalities don't mesh well.”

“The 501st often works closely with the 212th.” Rex points out.

“I am willing and able to work alongside Commander Cody, sir. It was his decision to transfer me to the 501st.” You say calmly, “If I’m not a good fit, you can always transfer me on.”

General Skywalker hums thoughtfully, “Honestly, based on some of Obi-Wan’s comments here, I’m surprised he signed off on your transfer at all.” He admits, “He’s all but singing your praises.”

“Thank you sir.”

He smiles at you, and offers you his hand, “Anakin Skywalker, welcome to the Resolute, Sergeant.”

You grin and take his hand, “Thank you, General Skywalker. I hope to serve well.” 

“I’m sure you will. I have no concerns.” The General replies, “There’s an empty room for you to use. I’m sure you understand that we don’t have many female soldiers serving.”

“I had noticed that my enlistment was something of an oddity when I was stationed at Triple Zero,” You reply.

“Less an oddity and more an anomaly,” General Skywalker jokes. There’s a knock on the door, and all three of you turn towards it as it slides open, “Ah, Echo. Is something wrong?”

“The Engineers report that there’s something wrong with one of the gunships,” ARC Trooper Echo reports from the doorway, his gaze is locked on Captain Rex, and then General Skywalker, and you don’t think he’s even noticed you.

Which is a shame, because you recognized him as soon as he entered the room. The last time you saw him was when you were standing back to back against an army of rancid Sith Alchemy creations. He fell before you did, in the last life, but you suppose it’s only fair, since in the one before that one, you died first.

He looks good, you decide. The armor suits him (it always does, even in that first life when his armor was chainmail and his weapon was a steel sword). And he looks healthy and, maybe not happy, but he looks well. It’s enough for you, even if he doesn’t recognize you.

You tune back into the conversation when General Skywalker claps you on the shoulder, “Echo, this is our new Sergeant,” He says cheerfully.

Echo turns his gaze to you, and he stops. For a moment his breath catches, but he soon catches himself, and you smile. You know that reaction. It’s the same reaction he always has when he sees you again for the first time. That’s something that’s never changed.

It’s something that several lifetimes as a jedi, and several more as sith, haven’t been able to take from him. 

He nods at you, and you pretend to not notice the way his fingers flex, as though he’s fighting the urge to slide his hands into your hair. “Welcome to the Resolute, ma’am.” He says, very politely, and you smile at him in return. Your smile widens slightly when you notice him flicker his gaze to the side. He hasn’t changed at all.

Still the same sweet man you fell in love with all those lifetimes ago.

General Skywalker’s gaze is darting from you to Echo and back again, and he has a wide grin crossing his face. Captain Rex, however, looks less impressed. “I have a great idea,” The General says cheerfully, “While me and Rex check out the gunship, why don’t you, Echo, show our new Sergeant where her bunk is?”

“General-” Captain Rex says immediately.

“I can do that, General.” Echo interrupts, his gaze snapping back to you, “It would be my pleasure.”

“Great!” General Skywalker firmly guides Rex out of the room, “Have fun! Maybe give her a tour!”

You stare at his back, bemused, “Is the Resolute any different than the Negotiator?” You ask Echo, as he steps into the room and allows the door to shut.

“Not in the slightest.” He replies, as he moves closer and closer to you, until he’s standing in your personal space, and a soft smile crosses his face, “Hi.” He whispers as he reaches out and presses his hand against your cheek.

“Hi,” You whisper back, your heart pounding in your chest in sheer excitement that he’s here. He’s here and it’s been so long-

“You’re as beautiful as the last time I saw you,” Echo murmurs, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “As beautiful as the first time I saw you, all those lifetimes ago.”

You smile at him broadly, “You look good,” You reply, “Healthy…happy.”

“Happier now.” His voice is little more than a sigh, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“You enlisted, didn’t you?” Echo asks.

“It’s not the first time I enlisted to find you.” You bring your hands up to caress his jaw, “It won’t be the last time, I’m sure.” You have to stand on your toes to hover your lips over his.

“Maybe next time I’ll enlist to find you,” He teases, “I think it’ll be my turn.” He closes the distance between your lips, and further words are unnecessary. 

He kisses you like he’s always kissed you. Like it’s a secret. Like it’s a promise. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. I’ll always love you. Wait for me. Wait for me. Wait for me.

When you kiss him, you zip back in time, to that little girl who fell in love with a prince. To the prince who fell in love below his station. To a love that transcends life and death.

He breaks the kiss slowly, as though the very idea of parting from you for even a moment breaks his heart, and he presses his forehead against yours. “My heart.” Echo whispers, “My only. Does your heart still belong to me?” 

“Always.” You whisper back, “Forever. Was that ever in question?”

“No. Never. But I do like hearing it.” Echo replies. He kisses you again. And again. And again. “I could spend the rest of this life in your arms, and I would die a happy man.”

“You could spend the entirety of every life in my arms, and you would never complain.” You correct with a small grin.

“This is true,” There’s a glimmer of adoration in his gaze, “Stars, I have missed you. Your voice, your scent, the feel of your skin against mine-”

He kisses you again, and he slides one hand into your hair, angling your head back to deepen the kiss.

He doesn’t want to stop, that much is obvious to you. He never does, right when he manages to find you again, but this time you don’t have a choice but to stop him. 

“Echo,” You murmur his name and he shudders and presses firmer against you, “You need to show me to my room. We can continue this later.”

“Want to continue it now,” He mumbles sullenly, and you know, if you let him, he’ll convince you to his way of thinking, so you smile and press your finger against his lips.

“We’ve waited this long, what’s a little longer.”

He pouts at you and you laugh softly, running your finger lightly across his lower lip. “Babe-,” It’s a whine and a plea wrapped into one, and you grin at him.

“I know you can be patient.” You chide gently, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Echo’s breath catches in his throat, and he stares at you, “Right. Right, okay.” He takes a deep breath, and then another one, “Tour, and then show you your room. I can do that.”

You grin at him, and pull your hand away from him, and take a step back.

For a moment he looks a little lost, as though the idea of not being able to touch you is beyond him for a moment, but he visibly composes himself and your smile broadens.

Quickly, so quickly that you almost miss it, Echo kisses you one more time, and then he’s heading towards the door. “Keep up, Sarge. It’s a big ship.”

You roll your eyes and grab your helmet off the table, “Large and exactly the same as the Negotiator.”

“Yeah, but this is the Resolute, so it’s better.” Echo grins at you as he opens the door, “And everyone knows it.” He winks at you, “After all, we have you.”

You tilt your head back and laugh. Gods above, how you’ve missed him.

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

what was it like as a gaylor before 2016?

What an appropriate question on the 10 year anniversary of the kaylor public launch at the VSFS 2013 :) As it's quite a subjective question, prepare for my gaylor/kaylor origin story 😉

I've been a more committed Taylor fan since Red came out in 2012, but because I'm in the UK a lot of the public media buzz about her has passed me by (except for the headlines about her and Harry, that was definitely a big story over here). In spring 2013 the article about her and Dianna exploded on the internet and, despite it obviously being retracted, it perked my ears up because 1. I was also a big glee fan at the time, and 2. it seemed to offer an explanation to why I found her music so relatable having just had my heart broken by a girl and all her genderless breakup songs fit that situation so well. So, I did a bit of research and quickly realised that, if she was in fact with Dianna, it would have been at the same time that she was supposedly dating Harry, as well as that Kennedy guy. No public acknowledgement of any queerness (like ever) so it was very clear to me from the start that, if she is dating women, she is doing it very much in secret. Not a great inspiration for fairly newly out me (23 at the time), so I filed that information and moved on with just her music. Didn't really think about it again until over a year later when a guy in a club decided to bully me and my then gf with the sentence 'Are you a real couple or just bffs like Taylor Swift and that model chick?' Yep, my kaylor origin story is a straight man harassing me in a nightclub. What are the odds, right? 🤭

So, because that remark somehow stuck with me (and I had no idea who that ' model chick' even was) I googled it, expecting to find something similar to the Dianna situation and my jaw hit the floor when I got pages and pages of photos of Taylor and Karlie walking the streets of NYC holding hands, smiling at each other with the biggest heart eyes. It genuinely changed my life. It may sound totally stupid and out of proportion, given that they didn't acknowledge it as a relationship (which I'm aware was doing no favours to lesbian visibility), but it did something to me to see the girl whose music I'd danced to in my bedroom when I was 16 so happily in love with another girl. I'd never seen that sort of love between two women, either in fiction or in real life, and it felt like she'd reached across the miles dividing us to tell me that it's possible, and that if she could find it (even in hiding), I could, too. And somehow it didn't matter to me what they were calling it, I could see what it was and it was everything to me. But I only had a few months to enjoy it before kissgate ruined it and of course the tabloids printed words like 'affair' and ‘scandal' and by March the next year we had Calvin Harris, then Hiddleswift, and then Joe. But at the same time, we got 1989 and rep with some of the gayest music ever written. And I found a great community of fellow queer people on here in those years that seemed to enjoy watching them and seeing their lives in the lyrics as much as I did. I’ve dipped in and out of the online space for years, lurking when there were more kind people around and disappearing when the hate got worse. It was fun to watch it all unfold in real time with people, I’m impressed that people still become new kaylors these days when there is no real time interaction and the hate from the general fanbase towards Karlie is still high since 2018. I don’t think I would be a gaylor today if I hadn’t witnessed their love in front of everybody’s eyes in that year, that really made me resilient to setbacks because I’m just so irretrievably in love with their love story. I’ve seen how Taylor lashes out when she’s cornered and scared (like she did after kiss gate) and sometimes we’re the collateral damage of that. And as much as that sucks it just shows that she’s incredibly protective of her little bubble of happiness and the more you poke the bear the more savage she’ll be in her retaliation. Do I wish she didn’t throw her most loyal supporters off a cliff every time she needs a straight excuse? Of course! But have I also hurt people I care about to protect my loved ones? Yes. So I can’t really judge. I can just take a walk when it gets too much, and wait for the soft shit to pull me back in.

So, to summarise, being a gaylor has always (and will always) have highs and lows, the public narrative is never for us, only the music is. But that's ok with me, I've learned to tune the noise out and enjoy the music, reminding myself that those songs were inspired by one of the greatest love stories I've ever accidently stumbled upon.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 20

word count: 1066

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

April 22, 1989

Dear Will,

Prom is tonight. And I’m not going. It’s fine. I’m fine. I made up my mind a whole month ago and have been able to withstand the borderline harassment of our friends telling me that I’m gonna regret this decision for the rest of my life and would be better off just going without a date because it doesn’t matter if I have a date or not and it’s the experience that counts and Lucas said you’re going to be there so I should go too and fuck I regret this so much.

What time is it…? Why I’m writing down the question instead of just checking my fucking watch, I don’t know. It’s 5:30pm, prom starts at 6, and you probably haven’t left your house yet. And why I’m writing about my suit being presentable enough instead of just going to my closet to check is so fucking counterproductive and

—

It was like a movie, the way I bolted out of the house in my dress slacks and suit jacket with half-tied converse, the laces billowing behind me in the wind as I biked through the neighborhood as fast as I could to your house. I should’ve just taken my car, but of course I had to bring all of my own rom-com fantasies to life. You know, like the Big Chase scene where the guy runs through the airport, praying that it isn’t too late to confess his love to the girl that nearly got away. But alas, I am no athlete, so this unfortunately came with the consequence of looking like a sweaty rat by the time I reached your driveway. Thankfully, you and El were still there, taking photos with Jonathan on the front steps. I haphazardly thrust my bike onto the curb and sprinted up to you as fast as my legs could carry me.

“Will!” I shouted, suddenly conscious of how I hadn’t prepared anything to say to you. My actions always have spoken louder than my words, which is concerning, considering the fact that I’m planning to become a writer once we’re out of high school. So I ran across your front lawn, and I stopped in my tracks when I noticed the surprised looks on Jonathan and El’s faces, the worried look on your own, and the confused expressions on Joyce and Hop’s.

“Hey, Mike,” Jonathan’s eyebrows furrowed together as I gasped for air.

“Hey, Jon,” I replied, leaning forward until my palms rested on my knees as I panted. I acknowledged everyone else, and then looked back up at you, standing back up and running my hand through my hair. The sweat clung to my hand, which I wiped on my slacks with a grimace. “Hey,” I said, “Yeah, so, uh– Will. Dude. Buddy. Do you want to go to the prom with me?”

There was a beat of silence that followed, and I felt the urge to cut my own tongue out. Before I could actually act on my impulse, you walked down the stairs and took a few more steps in my direction. “I thought you weren’t going,” you said, crossing your arms against your chest. I shook my head, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“I changed my mind. Lucas told me–” I began, but trailed off before I gave myself away. You could never know about how Lucas convinced me to go to prom on the sole basis of your attendance. That would’ve been so humiliating.

“He told you what?” you prompted me to continue, taking another step forward so we were less than a foot apart.

“Just that everyone else was going, and that I was a weirdo for not wanting to go as well.”

“He’s not wrong,” you smirked up at me, and I lightly smacked your shoulder, feigning offense. “But, like,” you went on, “now that you’re actually coming to prom with us, doesn’t that mean you’re going with me already?”

Against my better judgment, I reached out and adjusted your shirt collar against the lapels of your suit. You looked up at me in mild shock, but hey, at least I didn’t kiss you. “I mean, I was asking if you wanted to go to prom with me as my date.”

Your face turned a beautiful shade of pink, and you stammered out, “I–I’m not sure if we’d be allowed to do that.”

“Come on,” I pleaded, “We’d be going as friends, they can’t kick us out for that.”

Another moment of silence bloomed between us like the yellow flower in your jacket pocket. You picked at your nails in contemplation. “Fine,” you relented with a smirk, “I guess I could go as your prom date… buddy.”

“I just know you’re never gonna let me live that down,” I whined, and you just laughed.

“Damn straight,” you agreed, and I refrained from making a gay joke on account of, oh I don’t know, outing myself. You put my bike in your garage while I was caught up on the plan for transportation, which was Lucas’ parents’ minivan, which would be there in a few minutes to pick us up. Needless to say, everyone was shocked when I climbed into the van.

Prom was pretty lame, and we all ended up leaving early and going back to your house, but I honestly don’t give a single flying fuck, because we actually got to dance together. I repeat: we actually got to dance together. The music had slowed down, everyone was finding their respective dates, and I was just about to leave the dance floor for my impending Closet Pity Party™ when you grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to you and placing your hands on my hips. “What’s the point of prom if you don’t have at least one slow dance?” you asked, and I tried my best to appear as nonchalant as possible by shrugging. Meanwhile, I was, like, one second away from dying of happiness. It was dark enough that I got away with putting my hands on your shoulders, and you became a bit more confident with the way your hands gripped my waist as we swayed back and forth to the music. I’m grinning so hard while writing this. I think this has been the best night of my life by far. I hope this feeling lasts forever.

Love,

Mike

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Peter Tork dancing, 1960s to 1980s; clips from “The Spy Who Came In From The Cool,” the Star Collector” sequence, Head, 33 & ⅓ Revolutions Per Monkee, The Monkees live show in Michigan in August 1987, Solid Gold in 1987, and the Pat Sajak Show in 1989. (Audio from Peter’s live performance of “Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?” at CBGB on July 31, 1977.)

“Between scenes, Peter’s always reading some book. He’s really the intellectual of the group, interested in various religions and politics. Peter has a smile for everyone who comes on the set no matter how tired he gets. The boys work every day from 7 A.M. to 7 P.M. [...] Whenever he gets the chance, Peter talks to others about the Beatles. He’s quieter off the screen than he seems on and is always very courteous to others. He loved dancing in high school but now he’s not so crazy about it though he’s still good.” - Ann Moses, Tiger Beat, January 1967

Q: "Being a multi-instrumentalist, did any of the instruments come to you easier than others?" Peter Tork: "No. It’s all the same. Each instrument has its own facilities, its own challenges. It’s funny. I think I play piano best of all. I think I rank highest as a banjo player among all the people who do what I do at any given thing. In other words I’m in the 15th percentile as a piano player, and maybe 25th as a guitar player and 85th as a banjo player, but I don’t know why that is. One, is it’s simple, I get to relax, I don’t know. Each thing is different and I don’t get to dance as much. I play guitar mostly because I get to dance with it. Piano doesn’t dance. It just sits there – a wallflower instrument – a stick in the mud." - Enigma Online, 2006; published 2015