#and just as i thought i had my lgbtqa letters figured out

[maranull]

hi,

read Loveless by Alice Oseman.

best aroace book

[guyonrye]

How much of someone is made up from their trauma? How much of a man is derivative of that which he has experienced, and how much is predisposed to be a part of his person when he forms in the womb? It can be a challenge to differentiate between your nature and nurture; regardless of which makes more of an impact, it is irrefutable that both are important in dissecting one’s identity. I’m not sure how much of my identity is made up of the trauma I’ve gone through, how much is inherent to who I am, and how much is still just underlying insecurity piloting my actions. Regardless, all of these things make up who I am in this moment.

It’s been a long journey for me to figure out many different aspects of my identity. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone through nearly every letter in the LGBTQA+ community. I was a lesbian for a while, then a demiboy, then just a trans man, then a bisexual trans man, then a gay trans man… and I’ve finally settled into the most fitting identity for myself, though I recognise as I develop more, that identity is subject to change. As it stands, I identify as an agender guy, who is both asexual and aromantic. Now these may all seem confusing, especially if you know me personally, but I have my reasonings for identifying like this. To me, it makes perfect sense, though it takes a little bit of explaining.

I’ll start with describing why I am an agender guy, as I’m sure those two terms together are the most confusing. As an autistic person, I don’t quite grasp the concept of gender; at least, not in any meaningful way. I have this irrefutable internal sense that I am a man, and have since I could formulate thoughts. At the same time, I’ve never been able to grasp the delineation between “man” and “woman”. Ever since I was young I would draw extremely effeminate men and genuinely not understand how people assumed they were girls. I also couldn’t understand why I was being seen as a girl when I so clearly could tell I wasn’t one, but at the same time, I understood it was “bad” of me to feel that way, so I did my best to ignore it. I would pray to god to fix me, to let me wake up in the correct body, and not to play this joke on me. Obviously it didn’t work, but it did serve to worsen my inability to understand the concept of gender. The terms “manhood” and “womanhood” seem to mean so much to the majority, but I don’t have any feelings towards them. To me, I just know I’m a man, and nothing else is attached to that concept. No feeling of manhood, no feelings of womanhood, nothing. Where others seem to hold a sense of pride in their gender, I feel nothing; just a sense of being a man and nothing else. I don’t grasp the idea of gender, or gender roles, and so I know I’m different from most men in that sense. Even other trans men have a sense of manhood; does that mean I’m not trans, though? No. It simply means I experience gender in a vastly different way, largely due to the fact that I’m autistic. It’s something many autistics report experiencing, it’s just at an elevated level for me. So, I am a guy, but speaking in a larger sense, I’m also agender, as I have no connection to manhood and no understanding of gender roles or gender expression in any meaningful way.

In a joking way, it’s why I describe my gender as “none gender with left boy” in reference to the none pizza meme.

When regarding my sexuality, things get… potentially even more complicated. Many people believe sexuality is black and white; much like gender, however, it is anything but. I’m not sure how much of my sexuality is impacted by my trauma, though I believe it has had at least somewhat of an influence on it. One thing I know for sure is that I am not sex repulsed, and actually quite like sex. I think male bodies are very sexy, with their slightly curved chests and big shoulders, with facial hair and swinging balls… I love it. However, the second it goes from being just a random masculine body to being a person, I stop feeling that attraction. Some people may argue then that I’m just gay with high standards, but it goes a lot farther than that. The mere idea that it is a person and not just an attractive body turns me off for some reason. Only one person has ever been the exception to that, and I have my own theories as to why they are, but regardless, I don’t feel comfortable identifying as just plain gay. The hyper-specific label would be grayasexual, but frankly, I don’t think I want to place that identity on myself since there’s only ever been one exception in my life, and they’re comfortable with me identifying as asexual. I find them very attractive, and am very attracted to who they are as a person as well, but even if another person seems to be perfectly my type, I just can’t find it in myself to desire sex with them even in a fantasy scenario. It goes beyond just not wanting to have sex with random strangers, it’s an active repulsion and discomfort at the thought. So, asexual, agender guy.

There’s one more piece to the puzzle, though. My romantic attraction is incredibly similar to my sexual attraction. I can have fantasies about wanting to be with someone, and I can understand what I’d like from a partner, but any ‘crushes’ I’ve had have been nothing more than friendships with more intimacy. I don’t feel romantic attraction the way most people do, both because of the severe abuse I’ve experienced and my autism. Only one person has ever really made me feel romantically attracted to them, and that would be my current partner. With them I feel a deep, profound love that I’ve never felt for another person. It still doesn’t quite seem to be the same way that others experience romance, but for me, it is. I’ve never felt this sort of feeling for anyone else, I’ve never felt this safe with another person, never felt the same sense of security and understanding with another person. It may be because they were what I latched onto when in an incredibly abusive relationship, but it doesn’t matter; these feelings are real and profound, no matter the circumstances that allowed me to feel romantic love for someone. Outside of them, I’ve never felt the desire for romance with other people. Perhaps I’ve felt the desire for intimacy, but never in a way I would, reflecting back on it, describe as romantic. It is because of this that I strongly feel I am aromantic; just because one person was able to become an object of romantic attraction around my trauma and autism, does not mean I regularly feel romantic attraction for others. It simply means that someone was the exception, not the rule.

This is why I ponder if it truly matters why you feel the way you do at times. Surely it does in some situations, but in a general sense, does it matter that my identity is heavily a result of my trauma and being autistic? Both of those things heavily impacted my development and who I am as a person, so why would their influence on my identity be any less real? Does it mean I need to just identify as a gay man, when that doesn’t accurately reflect who I see myself as? No, it doesn’t. It just means that my nurture has shifted my nature, and that does not have to mean I must work on eliminating that. There are aspects of myself caused by being autistic and traumatized that I do want to change, as they are actively detrimental to my life. My identity as an agender aro-ace guy is not actively harmful, and in fact, helps me feel more complete as a human. It fills in a hole left by my nurture, and provides a sense of healing. I am more than my trauma, and can claim who it has made me without being broken, or otherwise “less than” others.

I am proud to be an agender guy.

I am proud to be asexual.

I am proud to be aromantic.

I am proud to be in a loving relationship

[penpalkingdom]

Hi *squints at smudged writing on my hand*

I’m T, I was given a full name, and it does in fact begin with a T; but I thought this was easier than my real name and I’ve always wanted to strive for a sense of ✨Mystery✨ in my life (to clarify, I try. But I’m closer to a book which has had its spine broken than any cryptic you’ve read)

Also, I love being given nicknames by friends, so you’ll end up calling me by your assigned nickname for me anyway- so my names pointless (you have to stick around though for nickname privileges)

Age: 22

Pronouns: She/her

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff (Fuck JKR)

Location: UK.

Sexuality: ? (This isn’t me being mysterious, I’m generally not sure at the moment)

Religion: Practicing Witch (please don’t come to convert me to anything else, my tarot cards say no)

I’d say I’m a fairly interesting person, although I’m very bad at expressing myself, and also my own opinion of myself isn’t worth shit 👌 I own over 200 books, all of them fiction spanning from different areas of of the young adult, new adult (yes, most of the new adult I’ve read is spicy 🌶, if your into that I have recommendations) , fantasy, dystopian- I could go on, but if you really wanted to know, I’d be happy to send you photos of my buckling bookshelves. I love Mythology, mainly into Greek at them moment, so if you have an interesting fact- I’d love to hear it.

I have a degree in bakery (weird huh?) and I’m currently training to be a nursery practitioner (do these qualifications match? Of course not) my music taste varies but some artists include:

Twenty one pilots (they’re my favourite, my first tattoo, and as of writing this, have just announced their new album),

Machine gun Kelly,

Yungblud,

Panic! At the disco,

Fall out boy,

Taylor swift,

Saywecanfly (if you know this guy, we’re instantly friends)

and many more I can’t remember right now.

I have to many hobbies, so ask me about most arts and crafts and I’ve probably tried it once before. I write, although ( I think) not well. We could maybe write short stories to each other? Maybe? Oh I love mushrooms 🍄 (over 600 photos on my phone... don’t judge me) and I’m in several fandoms, and I plan to be in many more (the more I read, the more fandoms I join) if you read YA fiction that was published between 2011 and 2013, you can probably guess some of my fandoms 😊

I’d prefer snailmail, although we can talk first online if you wish (if you want to talk online permanently, be warned I retreat into my own head a lot, so online replies may be slow) if we talk long enough, and we become good friends- I will defend you with my life. I love my few friends deeply therefore if you become one you’ll have the same treatment. This includes me checking on you whenever I can, reminding you you’re great, scolding your self doubt and random gifts when I feel like you need them/the thing reminded me of you. (Basically I’m the mum friends, figures)

The crook of it all is normal life is boring me (thanks COVID ) and I need ✨more✨ so I thought I’d try this penpal thing again. But I’d like to try a twist. (Not compulsory)

In with our normal letter, let’s add a letter written by a character. This character could be already written, or completely made up, hey you can write as your DnD character if you like (though if you play DnD I beg you to explain the game to me- I’ve always been interested in the game but it’s not big in the uk so never learnt) So then tucked inside the mundane of a normal penpal letter there can be a little bit of adventure. Writing like your someone else helps me feel better, maybe if can help you too?

Everyone and anyone is welcome to come and talk to me, I accept all (unless your a backwards transphobic, homophobic, racist, (LGBTQA+-phobic in general) dick. If your any of them I have no time for you) I also ask no creeps, I’ve already found my soulmate, so your creepy messages aren’t welcome.

You can find me at - @tessatales (just and FYI, no, Tessa isn’t my name, not even a nickname ether actually 🤷🏻‍♀️)

“I’m (hopefully) going on an adventure!” - bilbo baggins (plus a twist from myself)

[gin-ursur]

band of brothers fic rec (ft. the pacific)

nobody asked for this is a self indulgent list because this fandom has a lot of quality works that deserve recognition:

Easy’s Omega by GGCharms 

Omega Eugene Roe is assigned to be a medic to the 506th Infantry Regiment's only all Alpha company, Easy Company. Watch as he earns his place among them, becomes pack, and (unintentionally) finds his Alpha and a family.

[unfinished / abo / baberoe / doc roe centric] 

Doc Roe is the soul omega in a company made up predominantly of alpha’s and beta’s, in a world where omega’s serving in the military is still a very new concept. And I think the study into that is really interesting, there aren’t enough good historical abo’s set during the early to mid 1900s.

letters between continents by aliaaaaaa

Shelton and Roe sharing their worries, anxieties, hopes, and dreams in a series of letters throughout the war.

[bob-pacific crossover / sledgefu / baberoe / snafroe friendship]

Really good angsty cajun boy’s writing correspondence throughout their individual war’s. The prospect of doc and snafu being either close friends or cousins is a favorite headcanon of mine.

catch it down in new orleans by starblessed

Gene’s not sure what he regrets more – inviting Babe down to Louisiana for the week while his cousin is also visiting, or saying it was fine if Babe brought his friends with him.

Merriell is the last person Gene wants in the house when his boyfriend and his friends show up. But, well, it’s not like he can kick his cousin out. It seems like the only option for Babe and his posse is just to learn to live with him.

Not if Gene can help it.

[bob-pacific crossover / sledgefu / baberoe / they’re cousins this time]

Cajun cousins do it best. Big family values down on the bayou.

Delivered as a Whisper by mytimehaspassed

They work nights, work bars and corners and alleyways and pool halls and night clubs.

[baberoe / snafroe / sledgefu / murder mystery]

A Softer War by twelve_pastels

In 1945, Edward Heffron comes home from War. In 1951, Babe punches a guy through a plate glass window, loses half his tastebuds, flees from alligators, and moves in with a doctor. All of these things are related.

[babe centric / baberoe / post-war]

Babe after the war, a really good study into veterans and PTSD. Definitely one of my favorite BoB fics ever. 

Center Stone alyseofwonderland (Esyla), Esyla

They are the same, at their centers, at their cores. Ronald Speirs has a center of stone and Eugene knows exactly what that feels like.

[speirsroe / magical realism]

Rarepair that deserves more. I think this author really captures their characters, as well as a presumed relationship dynamic.

and what you've got is magic by cptnwinters

The day Babe Heffron meets Eugene Roe, he falls through a compartment door on the Hogwarts Express straight into Eugene’s lap. It’s (unfortunately) not the only time it happens.

Or: The Hogwarts AU.

[baberoe / harry potter fusion]

Just a really sweet Hogwarts AU.

Follow My Lead by Emono

George just never thought he’d meet a Sex God at his great-grandfather’s deli.

---

“Who the fuck says ‘going steady’ anymore?”

[toyeluz / meet-cute}

Romance? In my deli?

Grass Knuckles Series by Emono 

Please just read this entire series it’s so sweet.

Old Familiar Places by ama

George's relationship with Joe Toye wasn't exactly normal, or always happy, or easy to maintain. Sometimes he thought about ending it, or cursed the G.I. bill (which he blamed in the first place), but every time he made the five-hour drive to Philadelphia for a secret tryst it just felt... worth it.

[toyeluz / post-war]

Through the Gay Days by ama *****

“When you got to a camp, you just immediately sought out the other gay guys, just for the reinforcement of knowing you were not alone.” -- Pvt. Ben Small, Army Air Corps.

Four gay men arrive at Camp Toccoa in 1942, each thinking that they are alone. They're used to being alone and used to keeping secrets. But when Gene Roe, George Luz, Ed Tipper, and Chuck Grant meet, they realize that the war has shaken everything up, and together the four friends try to make it through the worst of the war--and the best.

[snafroe / tipper x lieb / toyeluz / speirsgrant / queer history]

Okay ladies and gents this is it. This fic is up there as one of the best I’ve had the blessing to read. This story is such a fantastic study into queer history, specifically pertaining to queer culture in the military that would go on to become the very foundations for the LGBTQA+ community as a whole. This author simply has an incredible grasp of queer history please read and support everything by ama.

they don’t know about the up all nights (they don’t know I’ve waited all my life) by PotofCoffee

Johnny and Bull throughout the war, in a slow meandering dance you might just call love.

[bull x martin / Period-Typical Homophobia]

Boy’s in love trying to figure themselves out.

By Small and Small by luxover

Babe wants to keep talking with Gene, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like, in the past, he never would’ve shut up, but now, since Julian, he’s just got nothing. Maybe that’s grieving; Bill says that’s grieving, anyway, but Bill uses the term like a Band-Aid to put over every aspect of Babe that has changed.

Or: The one where Gene is in med school and Babe's messed up over Julian.

[baberoe / modern au / hurt-comfort]

Random The Pacific mentions just because:

My Sweet Summer by Emono

Eugene hears from his good friend George Luz about a charity farm he wants to do a story about. Feeling restless in Mobile, Eugene travels to Currahee to investigate the town and see if there's a story worth pursuing. There he finds people he'd never think he'd meet. A bright and bubbly ranch owner, his gruff business partner, a charming server, a modern (but happily married, damn it) witch, and a Lousiana boy who seems to have an eye for him.

Eugene lets himself enjoy the adventure and succumb to the sweet spell of Currahee.

[sledgefu / farm life]

Southern belle sledge meets farm boi snafu.

Where to Begin by ama

In the summer of 1946, Leckie travels down to Alabama for Sid’s wedding. Once there, he rekindles a friendship with Eugene Sledge. They’re both a little lost, a little broken, a little heartsick; it might not seem like the best basis for a relationship, but to their surprise they find themselves stumbling towards one anyway.

[leckie x sledge / post-war]

Rarepair, I know, but please give this one a chance cause it’s incredibly good. Two gay boys finding each other in 1940s america.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s all folks, I might do another in a few months tho.

[silly-nonny-fics-are-for-fandoms]

Artistic differences

BakuKamiweek day 4 (Part 1) : Band AU @officialbakukamiweek Summary: ’The Squad’ was known for having the most diverse types of music, sometimes slow ballads and others heart pounding rock songs. But the drummer and the lead guitarist have never been able to agree on a single type of song they enjoyed best. How do they work so well together? Read on Ao3

When people saw 'The Squad' in concert, no one would guess that the Drummer and the Guitarist had vastly different tastes in music. No one would even think about how they differed with how perfectly their music flowed, their voices adding in perfect touches here and there. Songs varied in genre, making it a band which could appeal to all. A song list released before the tickets were even available to be sold, so people could go listen to that one song they adored more than anything in concert. Some performances were themed by genre, even better for some who enjoyed their music without liking a specific song.

Some songs were uplifting, happy and energetic about loving life, enjoying it while they can and generally pick-me-up songs. Others, well, they'd won awards for the emotions and realty depicting anxiety, depression, and what it felt like to have suicidal thoughts.

One song, a universal favorite, was called 'I'll save myself', about someone figuring out they needed to seek help for their issues, usually set to a catchy pop tune though occasionally put into other genres.

"And I'll take steps all on my own, to help save myself, not sit alone on my lonely throne; Finding things to prove this life is ultimately meaningless, ultimately meaningless.

To those who tore me bent me and broke me, left me all alone; you can watch me now, because I'll save myself, but I can't do it on my own. We can do this together; Help bad feelings to pass just like the weather."

People sang out their hearts, told them the song had saved their lives; even Bakugo would admit it was humbling.

'How did you come up with it?' The reporters asked, and Jirou, the lead singer, always told them the same thing.

"Everyone in our band has some kind of depression. Bakugo's is linked with his PTSD, Denki's got more mental issues than I can count, Toko and I have clinical depression. Momo has a situational depression from stress. We wanted to help people realize that therapy is an option, it's not something to be ashamed of. Heck, on our tour bus, there are two therapy animals and they kinda help us all out. The world is full of shit, get the help you need to make it less so."

Kaminari would always chime in with Momo, "If you have medication, take it! Don't ignore it!" Before Kaminari would remember that he forgot his ADHD medication, and quickly leave to make sure he took them.

Another question which came up was 'Is your diverse musical styles to reach more fans?' and everyone always answered

"No. We just can't agree on music. Ever."

Even in Katsuki and Denki's house, which they shared due to their relationship, music was almost never playing due to this fact. Their pets provided enough noise for both of them.

Bakugo recalled when they'd announced their relationship to the world, and how people had revolted from their music as a result. Just because the world was getting more and more progressive didn't mean there wasn't still biased, judgemental assholes. And an all LGBTQA+ band didn't seem to deter them anymore, even showing up and rioting at their performances.

Even now, as he looked at his boyfriend, he couldn't forgive them. Denki laid down on their bed, Nana, Jig, and Nick laying around him, and the stark white of the cast on his right hand and up his forearm stuck out.

He'd been cornered after a show when he'd volunteered to go out and buy drinks for them all. They'd attempted to beat his face in, but it seemed they'd been dumb or ignorant enough to not do their research into their backgrounds. All of the band members were trained in hand to hand combat, had been since high school where they'd met. But they were stronger than him, and when Todoroki, a friend of theirs who was traveling with them, had shown up looking for him, they'd broken Denki's hand.

"I warned you someone's hand would get damaged with me around," Todoroki mourned later, mumbling about some hand crusher curse. Bunch of bullshit is what it was.

The tour had been put on hold until Denki's hand healed. Their fans, wonderful and amazing in every way, had understood completely that they wanted to make sure everyone got exactly what they'd paid for. Denki couldn't play or sign anything, but the whole band made sure everyone who sent Denki get well soon gifts or letters got an autographed thank you, with a different photo from their various tours attached.

Twitter had exploded when the letters arrived in return, and their official twitter responded to the blow up with a video of Denki attempting to play with a cast and him thanking everyone for their kind letters and gifts.

They broke the internet, a fact which made Katsuki laugh to this day.

Though, even with the glamour and fame that came with being in the number one band, he preferred moments like this. He watched as Denki curled closer to him, his uncasted hand clinging to his pant leg as their cats purred and Nana slept lazily next to him, basking in the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Morning," Denki whispered, golden eyes alight with mischief despite it still being early.

"Mornin'," Katsuki smirked, "Bitch."

"Says the biggest bitch I know," Denki chuckled, knowing Katsuki didn't really mean harm by the word.

"The dumbasses are coming over," Scrolling away on his phone, Katsuki felt Jig move by his leg, getting up and sauntering off to do whatever cats do. Nick would follow in a minute, but Nana would always stay with one of them.

"Which group of dumbasses?" Denki sat up, stretching slightly. Katsuki's shirt was big enough on him that it hung off of his shoulder, though he had taken to wearing his boyfriend's shirts because the cast was a horrible thing to wear sweaters with and most of Denki's closet had tight sleeves otherwise. So, the boyfriend shirt. Perfect solution.

"Our actual fucking squad." Katsuki rolled his eyes as Jig stepped on his leg, hissing at him like he'd done something wrong by being there.

"If you're talking extended, then we're going to have like. Ten guests? The band, plus Kiri and Mina and Sero, Shinsou and Camie-"

"Camie is too damn gossip hungry," Katsuki growled, "She may be a part of the squad but until you're better, she's not coming over."

"Aww, sweetie," Denki grinned, slipping off of the bed as carefully as he could, unfortunately waking Nana, "You care."

"If you're going to try kissing me, wait until you fucking brush your teeth." Katsuki waited on the bed for Denki to do so, trying not to itch at the cast. "How much longer are you in that fucking thing?"

"Uh," Denki paused, thinking on how long the doctor had said, "I think doc said six weeks."

"Fucking forever, got it."

"Hey, Kacchi?" Denki pulled out his best puppy dog eyes, and along with the nickname, he got his boyfriend's attention with a raised eyebrow.

"What the fuck do you want, idiot?"

"Can I put on music? It's supposed to rain, so I'm going to be stuck inside!"

"None of that fucking peppy shit."

"You only like depressing songs, Kacchi!" He chuckled, going over to their bookshelf of CDs, "I'm gonna put on my favorite, okay?"

"If you put on those fucking chipmunks, I'm dumping you."

"You always threaten that, but whenever Christmas rolls around you seek them out." With a chuckle, Denki picked out the CD of choice, an album of the top one hundred pop songs of the last year. His favorite song to dance to was on here, and, ironically, three of their songs had made it onto the disk. One was sung by himself.

Katsuki would never admit it, but that was his favorite song. Denki sang about happy, uplifting things. That song had been about the wonders of each season, aptly titled 'Seasons' and Katsuki had never been able to get enough of it. Winter for cuddling by the fire and rest, Spring for new beginnings, Summer for the fulfillment of wishes, and Autumn for rekindling old flames.

Another song was on this album, one sung by Katsuki. It was Denki's favorite song to listen to, to dance to, and to hear him sing. 'Better go big' was the song, and their band had won song of the year with it. Live life to the fullest, fuck whatever people said, do it, however, the fuck you wanted. The message was clear; It's your life, you only get one and you're not going home, so you had better go big. Fight your way out of whatever box people try to put you into. Fight and win.

Even if they couldn't agree on what style of music was their favorite, they could both agree the songs sung by their favorite person held special places in their hearts.

[crowkingwrites]

Ship It

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Request:  If your request are open can you do another ramsay bolton where they are in high school and he is popular and he slowly falls for shy reader but he won't admit it because he is dating someone else but they hookup with each other at a party and she finds out she is pregnant with his baby and in the end they get together. I really love your writings they are amazing and your an amazing writer. Thanks

Author’s Notes: Totally didnt intend this one to be this long, but here we are.

Written for: @bittenwolf45

Words: 4973 //  [Ao3 Link]

“Ms. Y/N, can you read the next paragraph out loud?” the history teacher asked you. When you shifted in your seat, you locked eyes with him again. Ramsay Bolton was among the rich and popular at North Westeros High School. He chewed at the eraser on the end of his pencil, waiting to hear you speak like the rest of the class. You enjoyed history. It was the only class you shared with him, and it was your favorite subject.

You read aloud a summary of a battle long ago. A civil war within a single house that almost destroyed everything. It was sad how a family can break apart and kill each other for power, but that was history. You’ve seen worse at home where your stepsiblings would argue with each parent. Civil war wasn’t foreign in your life. It was relatable.

The school bell rang for the day and everyone was out of their seats within seconds. You understood. History seemed bland to everyone else. It was boring. Who wanted to listen to a bunch of words dead men said? You packed up your things slowly, taking care to keep everything in neat order. You almost left the classroom when your teacher called your name.

“Sorry, Mr. Cayce. Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I only wanted to give you something,” Mr. Edgar Cayce handed over a pamphlet and an application to you. “There’s an internship program at the museum downtown. One of my past students is in charge there. I recommended you and showed her your last two papers. I think you should apply. It would open some doors for you.”

You smiled softly. “Thank you, Mr. Cayce. That’s really thoughtful of you. I’ll think about it.” You tucked the pamphlet and application between your folder and notebook and ducked your way out of the classroom. The next thing you saw was a redheaded girl kissing Ramsay’s cheek. She played with his fingers and they walked off together. His eyes lingered on you for a moment and then back to his girlfriend.

You couldn’t say it stung you. Ramsay and his girlfriend had been going out with each other for months. You were used to seeing them together. It was hard to swallow. You daydreamed so many times over the idea of you kissing his cheek and playing with his fingers. You also daydreamed of other thoughts that made your cheeks warm.

None of your naughty thoughts were known to the world. You only had one friend you were attached to. And even he didn’t know about your quiet crush on Ramsay.

“So, are you going to do it?” “I don’t know. There’s just a lot of people, you know?” you sighed. “What if I mess up something?”

“You won’t,” David reached his hand over to touch yours. “This is something you really love. Working at the museum for the summer? Getting out of your horrid house? Surrounded by artifacts and other people like you? It’s perfect for you. I think I know what’s really wrong here.”

“What?”

“You’re scared, honey,” David only called you honey when he dropped any kind of truth on you. The first time you brought Crocs? Honey. When you thought Santa Claus was real at 15? Honey. When you thought that RuPaul’s Drag Race was a show only for gays? Hoooonnnnnney. Ru Paul’s Drag Race is for everyone.

David picked up his phone and opened Facebook. His newsfeed with buzzing with LGBTQA articles, friends posting selfies of themselves, and people haring inks of cute kitten videos. His friends number was upwards of 250 people. You frowned. You knew exactly what he was going to say.

“You’re so scared of rejection that you miss out on everything! I mean, look at—

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“And the point still stands,” David firmly spoke. “This is perfect for you. Take it, damn you. I mean, fuck, if Ms. Reyes handed me an internship for Vogue, you best believe I would not be here moping to my best friend about it.”

“I guess you’re right. It would be really cool,” you half-smiled. The idea of spending all summer in a museum with people like you. Away from people screaming. Away from everyone who didn’t matter. That was perfect. “Could you help me pick out an outfit for the interview?”

“Interview? Are you getting paid?” David’s eyes lit up like Christmas. His flat brown hair seemed to have static electricity running through it. His glasses reflected like a Japanese anime character ready to make a stand.

“No, there’s a couple rounds of interviews to get a place in the program,” you explained, almost laughing. “I wanna look my best.”

David’s smile turn to sheer horrific glee. “I watched Devil Wears Prada 79 times. I am prepared for this.”

The flats you borrowed from David’s sister went perfectly with the green dress that David picked from your closet. Your hair was loose in curls around you, and David forced you in his bathroom to wear makeup. It certainly wasn’t your comfort zone, but at least your feet were comfy.

After receiving instructions from front desk information, you found yourself in the waiting room of Anna Nguyen, PhD. The room was mostly empty save for Anna’s assistant at her desk and Ramsay sitting in one of the few chairs by the office. You found yourself unable to breathe for a moment. Your head filled with questions.

Was what he doing here? Is he wearing an Armani suit? Does he even like history? What was he doing here? Did Mr. Cayce give him an application too? Is he that smart? What was he doing here?

Why was he here?

You quietly made your way over to one seat over from Ramsay. You took out your resume and recommendation letters and read over everything. You heard something shift and a voice.

“Hey, it’s you,” Ramsay said. “Y/N? We have History together.” Your mouth ran dry. You cleared your throat before you said anything.

“Yeah.”

“I guess you’re here for the internship?” He asked you. You nodded your head. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Not much for talking, hm? You’re probably smarter than me, but I’ll still get a place in the program. Don’t think you’re better than me.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’m better than you.” You explained. “But why are you here? You don’t like history.”

“You’re wrong.” Ramsay shot at you. “I do. Mr. Cayce wanted me to be here. He gave me the app.” Your questions were being slowly answered.

“I didn’t know. I thought I was the only one.”

“Well, you weren’t, Miss Perfect.”

“I’m not perfect.”

“Do you have straight A’s?”

“Yes, but—

“Then you’re perfect.” He replied with a huff. You knew Ramsay was hard to get along with. He wasn’t popular because everyone liked him. He was popular because everyone feared him. You still liked him anyways. He never bullied you, but this conversation wasn’t going well. You heard the assistant call your name. She gestured you to go inside the office for the interview. You nodded and left Ramsay behind.

“Hey, Perfect,” Ramsay called out to you. You turned to him one more time before entering. He winked. “Good luck in there.”

You thought about that for the rest of the day. On the way home, your eyes glazed over. In your bedroom, you stared at your personal journal. Trying to figure what to say. The words played over and over. His wink. That small smile. Someone had to know. You couldn’t keep these thoughts to yourself.

“What?” David said at lunch that next Monday louder than you wanted.

“Keep your voice down,” you whispered.

“I didn’t even know you liked people! Ramsay tho?” David nodded, tucking his finger under his chin. “I can see it. I ship it.”

“What? No. He has a girlfriend. It’s fine.”

“Still ship it.” David reaffirmed.

“He didn’t like me very much during the conversation we had.”

“Did he smile at you?” David asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “And he winked at me.”

David dropped his water bottle like a mic. “Ship it.”

When you received the email that you made it into the next round of interviews, you were ecstatic. This time you showed up in a pink blazer with a white blouse underneath. Your black slacks complimented your short heels, but what you liked the most was the statement necklace David nabbed from another friend for you. You swore that your closet was anything David could get his hands on.

You showed up holding your phone in your hands. You scrolled through every note you took from social media about group interviews. Your breathing matched your heart. Both seemed to be going fast. Group interviews were never your thing, and will never be your thing.

“You alright?” Ramsay asked. You looked up to see the Bolton with a button up shirt and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You it your lip. You considered lying for a moment, but you were terrible at lying. Why would you lie? It was written all over your face. This was not fine.

“No,” you said in the smallest voice. Your downcast eyes found the floor much more comforting to look at than your crush. “Is it the group interview? You have nothing to worry about,” Ramsay said casually. “They only do this to make good candidates nervous. You’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re perfect,” Ramsay gave you another small smile. “You’ll be measured against your peers, that’s me, and they’ll see how good you are.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m still getting a place in the program. Don’t worry about that.” His cockiness was on full display. He eyed other candidates as they filed into the room. Both of you took a seat next to each other. Ramsay leaned over to you. “Put it away. You’ll look distracted. If you’re still nervous, remember that you have the highest GPA of everyone in this room.”

“What? That’s so dumb. Why would I—

“You do. I already did the research. You have the highest GPA out of everyone in this room.” Ramsay finished his thought. He leaned back as the group interview started. Dr. Anna was there, but it was the Program Director that led the interview. Three other candidates introduced themselves while you and Ramsay were last. They shot easy questions at first. Why do you want to be in this program? What draws you to history?

But then came the more difficult questions. Why should they pick you? What do you have to bring to the table? You answered your best until you remembered what Ramsay told you.

“Ms. Y/N, what are your biggest weaknesses?” the Program Director asked you. Everyone’s head turned towards you.

“I believe my biggest weaknesses are my shyness and how introverted I am.” You watched two of the interviewers lean forward. “I may be quiet, but it’s something I’d like to work on. If I was offered a place here, I would be in good company. Learn and teach from thoe around me and create new friendships.”

You almost wanted to slap your momma that was such a good answer. You watched Ramsay’s smile grow because of you.

“Mr. Bolton, what are your strengths?”

“I know more about that painting to the left than you do,” Ramsay’s quick tongue earned a heated response.

“Do you?” The Director challenged. Ramsay leaned forward.

“The Arnolfini Portrait was painted by Jan van Eyck in the 1430’s. It’s a double full length portrait depicting an Italian merchant and his soon to be bride.” “You can’t prove that his bride.”

“I can.” Ramsay smiled. “Erwin Panofsky and other accredited art historians regarded this as a unique form of marriage contract, recorded as a painting. It was one of the first portraits done entirely in oils and highly regarded for its perspective. Of course, that’s only a copy. The original is in London. Any questions?”

You watched the Director frown and crumble up paper on the spot. You thought you could hear him say ‘that little shit’ under his breath. After the group interview was finished, you waited around for Ramsay who spoke with the art historian. He looked at you and did another double take. He excused himself, walking towards you.

“You know, you’re not the nicest guy at school—or ever,” you shot a look at the Director whose sour face could not be wiped from his face.

“I’m not. Why do you bring it up?”

“Why are you helping me?” you asked. Your hands fiddled with your phone. “Don’t you want a place for yourself?”

“Of course I do, do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Ramsay blankly stared at you for a moment before rolling his eyes.

“This program leads to promising futures. I would rather make my alliances now,” Ramsay explained. You narrowed your eyes.

“Wha-I-Is this some kind of medieval time war game? A game of thrones? Or something?” you blurted out.

“It’s principle. I help you now. You’ll help me later.”

The words made sense, but it certainly didn’t help your feelings. You would still watch him from afar. As soon as the bell rang, Ramsay was in his girlfriend’s arms. Your stomach didn’t forgive you whenever you watched. It felt like torture every single time.

You didn’t know much about her. Only that she was just as popular, an average student, and her hair was kissed by fire. She was a fiery one. And wild. No wonder Ramsay liked her so much. And you were…the exact opposite. Quiet, unpopular, cautious, nervous. The words flowed through your head. You couldn’t hold a candle next to her.

You turned to go to your own lockers. You couldn’t watch them together anymore. Not when you and Ramsay had grown so much closer than you ever expected.

The reviewing process for the museum summer program was underway and it was only a matter of days until you found out whether or not you had a place in it or not. You decided to distract yourself in the school library going over your notes for your next history test. Your eyes almost glazed over until he sat down in front of you.

“Why are you always dressed like this?” Ramsay asked.

“What do you mean?” you replied, looking up from your notes. Ramsay gestured to your outfit. Another t-shirt and jeans. It was easy. No real thought into it.

“This. Why don’t you wear your other clothes to school?”

“The interview clothes?”

“Yeah,” Ramsay scoffed. “Don’t you want to impress some guy you like?” You felt your heart skip a beat. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“W-well, it’s just looking good isn’t that important. I would rather study.”

“Rather study,” Ramsay mocked. “High school isn’t life or death, you know. You should wear your other clothes. You’re prettier in them.”

Ramsay got up from the seat and looked towards the library entrance. His girlfriend entered and waved him over. He nodded and then looked back to you.

“Stop studying. You’ll be fine. Remember? You’re perfect.” Ramsay tapped the table twice and left. Your mind was reeling. He thought you were pretty. Well, he thought you were pretty in your ‘other’ clothes. Did he like you? No, he has a girlfriend. He likes her. He called you perfect again. Was he being sarcastic? The questions and answers spiraled in your head so much that when you were in history you almost wrote Ramsay’s name instead of the correct answer on the test.

But you tried it.

The next day you wore your ‘other’ clothes to school. You did your hair. You even put a little more makeup on. Just to see. Yes, more people looked your way, and the attention was a bit much. You noticed Ramsay’s friend looking at you longer than you were comfortable with.

It was almost lunch and you carefully put your English notebook away when you felt a close presence behind you.

“See? Much better,” Ramsay smiled. You looked around for a moment, catching Ramsay’s girlfriend eye. She was seething.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Ramsay finished texting on his phone and his attention turned back to you. “You and I are going to Mr. Cayce’s classroom.”

You looked back at her. She was still seething. You almost thought she was on fire. “Your girlfriend doesn’t seem to be too happy.”

“She doesn’t matter,” Ramsay shrugged. “Don’t worry. She’s not mad at you. She’s mad with me, and frankly it’s getting fucking annoying.” Ramsay said that last sentence particularly louder. Both of you looked her way. She rolled her eyes and walked off with their mutual friends.

The walk to Mr. Cayce’s classroom was quiet. Until, Ramsay’s hand brushed by yours. You wanted to say something or mumble some sort of apology. When you glanced at him, he seemed too satisfied with himself. As if he did it on purpose. What game was he playing at? You were going to protest his mockery with your anger when you reached Mr. Cayce’s door.

He smiled wide and welcomed you both inside. He placed his hands on his hips. “Congrats to both of you! You made it.”

You felt like you could fly. You felt a sad weight lift off your chest and joy fill it in its place. Your summer would be spent around art, statues, artifacts, and anything you could get your hands on. You would be in the company of other people who did what you wanted to do for a living. You wouldn’t be stuck in your house listening to another argument or hiding away from the tension. In your glee, you squealed and hugged Ramsay much tighter than you planned to.

You blinked and realized you were holding your crush and that his face was inches from yours. Heat rushed to your cheeks again and you let go, mumbling a short ‘sorry’. You watched Ramsay’s face go from confusion to a secret satisfaction in seconds. He was enjoying your embarrassment.

“Thank you, Mr. Cayce,” Ramsay spoke for the both of you. “What do we need to do now?”

“Keep your grades up for the rest of the year,” Mr. Cayce explained. “I’ll get more information to you when it becomes relevant. And celebrate! Both of you did so well!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Ramsay smirked. “We’ll celebrate.” He winked at you. When you told David about it, he almost fell to the floor.

“I can’t believe he said that.” David was beside himself. “He’s so into you.”

“He makes fun of me. He knows I like him a lot and he makes fun of me for it.”

“So, Ramsay’s a little mean. He’s still into you.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“He told you that you were pretty.” “He says I’m pretty in these clothes.”

“He called you perfect.”

“He’s mocking when he says that.”

“I still ship it,” David said while sipping away at his cool drink. He stopped and then he started to hit you repeatedly. “There’s a party! It’s at some fucker’s house! He’s gonna be there! We have to go!”

“What? No!” you reacted. “I don’t like parties. There’s so many people. And there’s gonna be drunk people—

“He said you two were gonna celebrate! This is it! It’s your chance!”

“I have no chance with him.” David was having none of your negativity (as best friends usually do). Before you knew it, you were at the house party in another outfit David put you in. Only this time, it wasn’t for an interview. Your thigh highs showed off your legs while your new crop top (that David may or may not have cut in the car) showed more skin you’ve ever shown in your life.

David led you into the house party. Loud music played while everyone’s conversation with each other were louder. Red solo cups were filled with a mixture of alcohol and punch. A few girls looked your way and commented on your outfit.

“Y/N? Wow! You look so good!” one of them shouted. “Total queen bee right now!” You smiled and nodded. Sometimes you forgot how nice girls were. As you continued through the party, you noticed more smoke clouds, couples kissing in secret, and someone dressed as a banana? You shook your head and kept going.

David pushed you towards Ramsay and his friends. You watched him chug down another beer. Ramsay took one look at you and spit out half of his beer. His eyes were wide as a hungry dog watching dinner be made.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, but you heard him. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you waved.

“You’re here,” Ramsay looked down your shirt. “In that.” You nodded. Silence feel between both of you. David rolled his eyes. He couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

“Have fun with your dick appointment,” David said and left without another word.

“Dick appointment?” Ramsay laughed. He looked back to you and bit his lip. “You wearing that for me?”

“No,” you said in your smallest voice. This couldn’t be anymore mortifying. Ramsay’s smile grew wicked.

“No,” he shook his head. “You’re wearing that for me.”

“Ramsay—

“Y/N,” he teased. You could smell his hoppy breath. “Am I the dick appointment?”

You bit your lip as a response. What else could you say? Ramsay’s mouth salivated like a dog. You watched him lick his lips and his eyes set on you.

“I knew it,” he said as he grabbed you. He pushed through people to get you into a small bedroom. Ramsay barricaded the door and turned to you. “You have no idea what I wanna do to you.”

You felt Ramsay’s hand run up your thigh. His fingers found their way inside your panties. They moved back and forth along your pussy. His mouth found yours not long after. Your mind raced. This is what you dreamed about. What you always wanted was now a reality. You’ve never done anything like this before.

Your hands ran through his hair, kissing him back. You couldn’t have enough. He tasted exactly like the beer he chugged and the junk food he shoved into his mouth, but who cares? In this one moment, he was yours. You opened your mouth and moaned. Ramsay’s fingers went inside of you and you moaned more from pleasure than from pain.

You found yourself in a tangle with him. Both of you were panting and sweating. Ramsay pressed himself against you as he thrusted inside of you. He was rough. He held your hands above your head and kept going. You had him. He was all over you with no sign of stopping.

Each second with him grew more intense. He buried himself in your neck. Your hands held him close, but you wanted him closer and closer. You heard the bedframe moving and the music disappear. All you heard was him grunting. All you could feel was him. His arms around your body. His mouth on yours.

He was so horrible to everyone, but he felt so wonderful. He groaned your name loud and your felt warmth between your legs. He lifted himself off of you and sat on the bed. You started to hear the loud music again. His eyes focused in the dark. As did yours. Then the shameful realization came to you.

“You cheated on her with me, didn’t you?” you asked. Your stomach churned when he didn’t answer you. You dressed yourself and set off without another word. David caught you storming out the party.

“What happened?” David asked, grabbing you. He saw your teary eyes and shaky breath.

“I just wanna go home.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Please just take me home,” you said. You couldn’t sleep for the next couple of days. You watched Ramsay hold her hand. Ramsay kiss her on the lips. All while you knew exactly what both of you did together. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak or look at Ramsay.

But he was insistent on speaking with you. He left several notes in your locker when texting wouldn’t work. He stared at you during history class. Whenever you saw him coming towards you, you avoided him. Suddenly, spending the summer with him at the museum didn’t sound wonderful anymore. If he could do that to his girlfriend, he could do that with you.

Three weeks went by just like that. Avoiding him. Not looking at him. Pretending like he didn’t exist. At first, you thought you were sick. You skipped a day and thought your nausea would go away. Then, it was the fatigue. You barely could keep awake in history class anymore. Your body felt sluggish as if you had to drag yourself to do everything. You thought it was weird that your period didn’t come.

Wait.

Your period didn’t come.

“I’m so scared,” you told David. He waited with you in his bathroom, trying to keep you calm. The seconds felt like forever.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be fine,” David rubbed your back in circles. It felt comforting, but it couldn’t solve the current issue. “This could all be stress. I mean, isn’t your stepsister suing your dad for something?”

“Yeah, for rent, and he’s countersuing.”

“See? Stress. You have a lot on your plate. It could be nothing.” David tried reassuring you, but the seconds were up. The results of the pregnancy test could change your life. Your stomach flipped and turned. Your chest felt tight. You held the small item in your hands and saw the two blue lines.

It was positive.

Everything was a blur. The room had to be spinning. This couldn’t be happening. You had plans. You wanted to go to college. You wanted so much more. Monday came around, and you felt the same. Sluggish, shitty, and trying your best. When you approached your locker for the first class of the day, you saw Ramsay. He watched you not too far away.

You had to tell him.

Quickly thinking of something, you wrote down a meeting time and place on a piece of notebook paper. You approached him saying nothing and handed him the note.

“You’re acknowledging me now? What’s this?” Ramsay took the paper and unfolded it. “What is it?”

“We’ll talk later. That time. That place. Ok?”

“We can’t talk now? Because that’s what we’re doing, we’re talking now.”

“Ramsay, I don’t have the time. I have to go to class.”

“No, you really don’t. Talk to me. Now.” Ramsay waited for you to say something. All you could manage was sigh and close your eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Ramsay.”

Ramsay blinked. He stood there, almost unfazed. “You’re what?”

“I’m pregnant. With your child. It’s yours.” Your vision started to blur. Your face felt wet. Ramsay looked around and took you aside. The bell rung and the hallway was nearly empty of everyone save for a few tardy students.

“You’re serious?” Ramsay’s hands fell on your shoulders. You nodded, trying to keep tears back. Ramsay let out a long and slow exhale.

“I’m sorry,” you said through the tears. “I can get rid of it. I’m not asking for anything.”

“Oh shut up,” Ramsay kissed your forehead, almost smiling. “This…changes a lot of things, but we can do this, alright? Stop crying.”

“We?”

“You didn’t think I would let you do this on your own, did you?” Ramsay tucked his finger under your chin.

“What about—

“We broke up. Three weeks ago. She found out from one of her friends. Took a picture of us going up the stairs. She wasn’t too happy. I didn’t really care.”

“You don’t care about a lot of things, do you?” you felt anger coursing through your veins. You wanted to slap him. Of course he didn’t care. You let your hand fly until he caught it.

“I care about you, Miss Perfect,” Ramsay said in your face. “I don’t regret what we did that night.” You looked down at your belly and then back to him. “Not even now?”

“Not even now,” Ramsay took your hand. “Are we doing this or not?”

The summer went by and so did the internship. When fall came, you opted out of going back to school with David and Ramsay. You entered into an online school where you could finish your high school degree. It was easier. Less people.

David was more than happy to help you in every way possible. He wanted to throw you a wonderfully big baby shower. That is, until you were thrown out of the house. Your father wouldn’t tolerate or deal with ‘baby drama’. David and his family took you in.

When Ramsay found out, his heart broke for you and his anger grew against your father. Ramsay moved you in with him and his family. Roose thought you were kind, but naïve. Walda, Ramsay’s stepmother, loved having you around. They were uch nicer and more forgiving than your own family.

When the day finally came, you pushed for hours. You cursed and screamed at Ramsay at first which frightened him. He’d never seen you like that. That day, he made an important mental note to never ever piss you off. You both heard the cries of your little baby girl. She had your eyes, but she barely opened them.

Ramsay and you laid back in the bed, looking down at her and reflecting on the past nine months. Both of you heard a high-pitched squeal to see David. He held an armful of balloons, a teddy bear, and flowers.

“Hi David,” Ramsay greeted. David still squeaked, looking at both you. Ramsay rolled his eyes. “What is it?”

David smiled and like a cute fangirl, he squealed, “I ship it.”

Taglist:  @angelicshinigami @sugarwastaken @carilov09@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @i-theredqueen @sleepylunarwolf@trashpandabarnes @loki-0fasgard @boltonblade

[oddlygayuniquelynormal]

What's wrong with the community?

I was going to post this during Pride Month but until now my friend had told me not to.

(For her sake I'll just call her J)

Of course like many people in the LGBTQA+ community, my friends and I went to possibly a few Pride Parades and maybe a few bars n parties. Now, yet again like many others we thought we were free to express who we where during these times. But apparently not for J.

J does identify as Ace. For those who are wondering what Ace is= Asexuality is a type of sexual orientation, alongside other orientations such as gay, lesbian, bisexual and pansexual. It's not the same as celibacy or abstinence, which is behavioural and based in choice, situation or circumstance. Asexual people experience little or no sexual attraction.

So now that you know here's the story-

As we walked through the crowd we were talking, as friends do, and a bit of our conversation had to do with J saying, "I can't believe I'm in a place where I can be myself and be proud,". (If you're wondering it was her first time officially celebrating Pride.) As we continued our conversation we brought up many things to point towards our sexuality. Many people where around us not really paying attention but there so happened to by another group who had heard her say, "I'm too Ace for that", commenting on what one of my friends talking about how she would like to get into the more sexual side of her relationship with her girlfriend. Now, a few hours passed and a lot of drinks later we were dancing at a bar (I can't remember which one) until we realized J was nowhere to be found. A couple friends suggested she went home and simple never told us or we never heard her. The rest of us were freaking out because we tried to call her but she didn't pick and that was highly unusual. I was in full Mom mode. Cursing, Running, Screaming her name until we heard a cries from the alley. We figured it was probably two people having some drunk 'fun'. But, one of my other friends, who was also panicking, decided to look and Thank God she did. There huddled up by a dumpster was J. Bruised, Bloody and Scarred. A crying mess when we gathered around her. That group who over heard her saying she was Ace had beat her like our highschool bullies. Yelling at her she didn't belong at the parade and that she shouldn't celebrate pride because she wasn't part of the community. Saying it was impossible not like someone sexually or that she just needed the right person to show her. We never knew who they were and we still don't know. Never going to the police because she didn't want to get hurt even more. Scared either the police would hurt her or the group would just come back to finish her off.

It disgusts me that people would do that. It disgusts me that people in our own community forgot what Pride was about and they would outcast someone who where just like them, wanting to be accepted.

The letters of LGBTQIA+ refer to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer and questioning, intersex, and asexual and allied. 

The A stands for both asexual and allied.

If you don't agree your just as bad as every homophobic person out there I don't care what you say.

We fought and are still fighting for our rights and equality. But, you're still pushing people to inequality. It's probably because those who don't give Ace people rights as part of the LGBTQIA don't want equality, they just want more drama, more violence and more lives taken.

This isn't what any past or current people who fight for equality want.

Crimes against LGBTQ+ people have risen. Which means more are being arrested, more are being killed. AND YET WE WORRY WHETHER ASEXUALITY IS PART OF OUR COMMUNITY!!- Would you just grow up and accept them and protect them like we would any other. Can we for one second focus more on get the equality we deserve than the drama we create. For God's Sake can we just be truly accepting for once.

Those who are Ace are:

Valid

Equal

Kind

Worth it

Accepting

But still those who are Ace are:

Being hurt

Being killed

Suppressed

Being doubted

Being raped

Yet no one does anything about it. They should be allowed to be who they are like any other. They should be able to celebrate pride like any other.

[earmo-imni]

1. Nonbinary genderfluid

2. They/their/them and fey/feir/fem (I made the second set myself because I liked fae/faer but didn’t like the conjugation)

3. 21

4. Boy and girl are not your only options. There is so much more to gender than the binary, and you don’t have to hold onto a label that doesn’t quite fit.

5. I hate that genderfluidity is usually thought of as being between 100 % male and 100% female. It took me forever to realize I’m genderfluid because I’m never 100% male or female so I thought it didn’t fit.

6. I’m not familiar with any nonbinary celebrities, though I know of some.

7. I’m only partly out, but with those who I have told, I was really awkward. Just like, “Hey, so I’m nonbinary.”

8. Not actually a pun, but one time my friend said he broke everything he touched...so I told him that’s what happened to my gender. 😋

9. No :( I have very few lgbtqa+ friends at all and it makes me sad. I wish I had more friends who understood.

10. Asra from The Arcana! And Stevonnie, Pearl, and Garnet from Steven Universe! Also, Nico di Angelo and Alex Fierro from Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus/ Magnus Chase!

11. LGBTQA+

12. Anything that’s not 100% male or 100% female. That’s the short answer, anyway.

13. I have ADHD!

14. I wanted a name that started with my deadname’s first letter. Mari (from my username Marille) didn’t feel right, so I tried looking at name suggestions on Tumblr and found Marin, I looked that up, it had a linked variant that was Marijn!

15. No partner and probably won’t have one for the foreseeable future

16. I like partner and datemate. I also saw diamour somewhere on Tumblr and I really like that.

17. Don’t stress out too much about getting your specific identity or sexuality figured out, especially if you’re questioning if you’re non-binary. It’s a process. It’s taken me nearly a year to figure out what fits right, both for gender and sexuality, and I’m still unsure about a lot. If you’re trying to find peace of mind, though, I recommend reading people’s descriptions of their experiences with the gender(s) and sexuality(ies) you’re considering. Like a lot of people’s. Often a simple definition of an identity wasn’t enough for me to connect to it, I needed to know what it was like to live it.

18. Ah, I have a lot lol. Asexual, Aromantic (with a white stripe, not yellow), aroace (the blue and yellow one), nonbinary, genderqueer, trans, genderfluid, queer chevron, and rainbow

19. Listen to affirming music, delve into whatever part of Tumblr fits your identity, if you’re dysphoric avoid posts about dysphoria that WILL make it worse. If you have people who you can trust and are out to look to them for support.

20. No specific one, no. I like a lot of them!

21. I tend towards androgynous, but I very much like feminine and I wish I was still comfortable in feminine styles.

22. I’m creative, I’m passionate, and I’m alive!

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Since over 400 of you agreed that it’s Nonbinary November, I decided to do something fun for my nonbinary kids and came up with this: 

22 Questions for Nonbinary November! 

1.Which labels do you use?

2.What are your pronouns?

3.How old were you when you came out to yourself as nonbinary?

4.What’s one thing you’d like to tell your younger self?

5.Is there a myth about nonbinary people that annoys you the most?

6.Is there a nonbinary celebrity you look up to?

7.If you’re out, how did you come out?

8.Is there a gender-related pun you like? 

9.Do you have friends who identify as nonbinary, too?

10.Do you have a favorite lgbt+ character?

11. Lgbt, lgbt+, lgbtqa+… which one do you usually use?

12. How do you explain the term “nonbinary” to people who have no idea what it means?

13.Tell us a fun fact about yourself (gender-related or random!) 

14.How did you find your name? 

15.If you’re in a relationship, how did your partner react to your coming-out?

16.Do you prefer partner, datemate, significant other or something else?

17.A piece of advice for questioning kids?

18.Which flag(s) do you use?

19.Any tips for bad days?

20.Do you have a favorite nonbinary blog on tumblr?

21.Feminine, masculine, androgynous - or none of those things?

22. What are your three favorite things about yourself?

If you’re on the nonbinary spectrum, you can copy those and answer them on your blog (and tag me!).You can do all at once or one a day. Feel free to skip any questions you don’t want to answer. 

I hope this will be a fun way for nonbinary people to share their stories and a way for others to learn more about the nonbinary community! <3 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[sugirandom]

365 days of writing: day 119

 Day 119: ordeal

               Yesterday was not at all what I expected it to be. I was already a little miserable because I wasn’t allowed to eat anything as I mentioned before and then we headed to the hospital. Mom and stepdad were actually not that obnoxious on the way there thankfully. I guess they were trying to keep things low-key knowing that I was pretty miserable. When we got to the hospital signing in was fairly simple but when they brought me back is when things got frustrating. I was so dehydrated that they had to put the IV in my hand and while I managed not to tear up like I usually do it still wasn’t very pleasant and the nurse wasn’t very sympathetic to the fact that it stung. I think the reason it stung so much is they had to get an IV in me rather quickly so my blood sugar wouldn’t tank.

               We had to wait a long time because my doctor was running late. I remember the first room they had me at was across from a TV where they were playing a Scooby-Doo movie where John Cena saved the gang from a giant bolder that was chasing them. The last thing I remember on there before they made me move was seeing Scooby and Shaggy ride John Cena like a raft. I’m not sure how to feel about that… Anyway, yeah they moved me to a different area and then the nurse got the area wrong so I thought they were going to move me again. At this point I was miserable and after testing my blood-sugar level they realized they had to give me a stronger IV. At times the nurses would crowd around the area outside my room and talk to each other with the doctor. Since my blood-sugar was low my hyperacusis was working overtime and I felt like I wanted to scream until the new IV finally started kicking in and making me slightly less miserable. They kept telling us later times until I was finally brought back 3 hours later than my arrival time. At that point of course the procedure went quickly for all I could tell because they put me to sleep. Then I was in recovery with some crackers and my protein bar I’d packed and they sent us on our way. It was about 4:30 when we left. We’d arrived there around 11AM so it was practically a whole day experience.

               After taking me to Natilus for what was now an early dinner mom and stepdad brought me back home to Poppy’s house. Poppy was outside when I got home and was a little awkward with me when I went to hug her but gave me a small hug none-the-less. She said something to mom about how we ‘shouldn’t hug too much’ I was too out of it to react but mom told me about it today and I just brushed it off. I think she has an old-fashioned idea about how men are and figured hugging too much would hurt my masculinity or something like that. For the record, I love hugs so that’s not at all the case.

Today’s been pretty quiet and I’m still a tad sore from the biopsy. I’m bleeding a little bit but it’s not nearly as intense as I worried it would be so far. The good news is I can get the less invasive surgery that I should be able to heal from more quickly than if they didn’t have enough room so that’s the good news. I just have to figure out the insurance at this point and it seems like I’ll have to suck it up and talk to another therapist but my current therapist recommended a really LGBTQA+-friendly  therapist and I plan to call him on Monday to explain the situation to him. My current therapist is also going to send a letter to my doctor for the insurance company to look at. Once I get one more letter I should be able to get approval so long as they don’t figure out more hoops for me to jump through or set those hoops on fire lol.

               We went grocery shopping today but other than that I’ve just been watching youtube videos and playing Pokemon Moon. I have 24 more Pokemon to get caught up to the same level as my other groups and then I can move on. I’m being really patient because I never really was able to do this before with a little over 50 Pokemon because I get really restless. It is helping me fill out my Pokedex a little though so that helps me feel a little accomplished. Now I’m probably going to watch some Dragon Ball and then cook some dinner. I’m not sure that I’m going to watch the new SnK episode or LoI tonight. It really depends on how I feel or how late it is. I don’t usually like watching Anime really late since it effects my dreams but maybe I’ll do it anyway. We’ll just have to see how I feel. I do know that I don’t feel up to RP responses today.

[nightingveilxo]

BBC Sherlock is picking up where Casablanca left off. “The stage is set, the curtain rises, we are ready to begin…” Which is important, because before it was a film, Casablanca was an unproduced play.

First, I’d like to give credit to @deducingbbcsherlock for the original meta about John on the tarmac: ( x ) This post, is a follow-up of sorts, in that it deals with what happens afterward, and how we all land.

Take into account, that when Casablanca was made, the people we now think of as refugees, were still living the events. The film did create a rallying for those same people, and included refugees in its scenes. The LGBTQA+ viewers hoping for representation are the Sherlock refugees.

I included the images above, because of the blue/slightly rainbow lighting effect that occurs in the scenes, and due to pondering why they were having Mycroft watching an old movie (which we know was made for the show). Blue lights invariably spring up around anything involving Sherlock and John’s hearts (especially phones, bombs, and police lights). In the scene from T6T, the blue lights mimic a runway. In the first of the two images from TFP, after Sherlock breaks down the fourth wall, it even looks like he is coming down from a plane ramp.

From a previous piece I worked on:

Lights and Landing. I keep thinking it’s going to /come down/ to lights. On ASiB, Flight 007, the lights were out, and Nobody (TLD/Nemo TFP) was home (because they were all dead). During the stag night, Sherlock and John are drinking by a table, where Sherlock’s (heart) phone is left glowing blue next to four candles. If we’re still on the roof of TRF, John had his lights knocked out, but only after he and Sherlock escaped the police with their blue lights. In TEH, the lights are on the (heart) bomb. In HLV, Sherlock shoots Magnussen, and then a huge light lands on him from the helicopter. In TAB, Sherlock’s lights kept going out. In the flight of T6T, again everyone’s lights are out, except John’s. In TLD, Sherlock figures out the issue of the illuminated Miss Me from Eurus’s note, in the same way he noticed Help Me on the wall when Anderson missed it (which is also the text Sherlock sent Lestrade in TSoT that then results in blue lights through 221B’s curtains). In TFP, the little girl mentions seeing lights right before Sherlock figures out the code to locate John. We already know there is this recurring issue of projectors/projections/premonitions.

Which is why I don’t think it’s an accident that we go from the Casablanca-style scenes in HLV and TAB, to Sherlock and John beating Mary Rosemund to Morocco, in T6T. At the beginning of T6T, Sherlock says, ““I’m the target. Targets wait.” “How did you find me?” Mary asks. “I’m Sherlock Holmes,” he shrugs. He waited. For John. For her. There were premonitions...

Also, it works with the scenario of Victor Lazlo. Early in the movie, Victor Laszlo acquires a large scar over his left eye. The reason for the scar's existence is never addressed in the movie. Likewise, @inevitably-johnlocked surmised that John has lost his left eye ( x ) In TFP, as a child, Eurus always has brown eyes--except in the scene where she is lighting the match. In that scene, it’s blue. I never understood why, until this.

The water scenarios we keep getting in S4, and the idea of TD-12 or a coma causing this to all be misinformation or somehow incorrect.

Captain Renault: What in heaven's name brought you to Casablanca?

Rick: My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.

Captain Renault: The waters? What waters? We're in the desert.

Rick: I was misinformed.

We’ve already had a parallel between Rick and Sherlock from TGG, albeit in reverse.

Rick: And remember, this gun is pointed right at your heart.

Captain Renault: That is my *least* vulnerable spot.

Then, there’s John as Ilsa. A blonde married to a blonde, pining over a dark-haired man that is represented as anti-social. Renault has the ability to mirror Sherlock or John.

Ilsa: It's about a girl who had just come to Paris from her home in Oslo. At the house of some friends, she met a man about whom she'd heard her whole life. A very great and courageous man. He opened up for her a whole beautiful world full of knowledge and thoughts and ideals. Everything she knew or ever became was because of him. And she looked up to him and worshiped him... with a feeling she supposed was love.

Now, we come to the parallels between the tarmac scene and TFP:

“Another well-known story is that the actors did not know until the last day of shooting how the film was to end. (Delayed Sherlock scripts, and actors saying they didn’t know in advance where their story arcs were going.) In the case of Casablanca, this was later refuted... The original play (set entirely in the cafe) ended with Rick sending Ilsa and Laszlo to the airport. During scriptwriting, the possibility was discussed of Laszlo being killed in Casablanca, allowing Rick and Ilsa to leave together, but as Casey Robinson wrote to Hal Wallis before filming began, the ending of the film "set up for a swell twist when Rick sends her away on the plane with Laszlo. For now, in doing so, he is not just solving a love triangle. He is forcing the girl to live up to the idealism of her nature, forcing her to carry on with the work that in these days is far more important than the love of two little people." (Remember, John is Ilsa) It was certainly impossible for Ilsa to leave Laszlo for Rick, as the production code forbade showing a woman leaving her husband for another man. (Much like the film code prevented TPLOSH from having Holmes and Watson as a gay couple). The concern was not whether Ilsa would leave with Laszlo, but how this result could be engineered. The problem was solved when the Epstein brothers, Julius and Philip, were driving down Sunset Boulevard and stopped for the light at Beverly Glen. At that instant the identical twins turned to each other and simultaneously cried out, "Round up the usual suspects!" (Which is literally what they did in S4, especially TFP. The key players are all rounded up, and we have our twins reference) By the time they had driven past Fairfax and the Cahuenga Pass and through the Warner Brothers studio's portals at Burbank, in the words of Julius Epstein, "the idea for the farewell scene between a tearful Bergman and a suddenly noble Bogart" had been formed and all the problems of the ending had been solved.” (No loose ends...)

That issue of the Prime Minister, that came up in T6T? In the original play (the curtain rises, the scene is set), the correct PM is written: Weygand. In the subtitles for the English DVDs, it says De Gaulle. At the time of the film, he was head of the Free French government in exile, so a letter signed by him would have provided no benefit.

In the scene where Lazlo begins the national anthem, La Marseillaise, these are the lyrics:

Arise, children of the Fatherland! The day of glory has arrived! Against us, tyranny raises its bloody banner. Do you hear, in the countryside, the roar of those ferocious soldiers? They’re coming to your land to cut the throats of your women and children!

To arms, citizens! Form your battalions! Let’s march, let’s march! Let their impure blood water our fields!

John in TFP: Today, we have to be soldiers, Mycroft, soldiers. And that means to hell with what happens to us!

Sherlock: Soldiers.

John: Soldiers.

Going back to the first image, look at the name of the bar. The Attic. Where does Sherlock locate Eurus? In the attic (last image)...

Tellingly, this is what Umberto Eco said of the film (which originally, had a solid opening, but nothing meteoric) "Thus Casablanca is not just one film. It is many films, an anthology. Made haphazardly, it probably made itself, if not actually against the will of its authors and actors, then at least beyond their control. And this is the reason it works, in spite of aesthetic theories and theories of film making. For in it there unfolds with almost telluric force the power of Narrative in its natural state, without Art intervening to discipline it....When all the archetypes burst in shamelessly, we reach Homeric depths. Two clichés make us laugh. A hundred clichés move us. For we sense dimly that the clichés are talking among themselves, and celebrating a reunion. Eco also singled out sacrifice as one of the film's key themes: "the myth of sacrifice runs through the whole film." It was this theme which resonated with a wartime audience that was reassured by the idea that painful sacrifice and going off to war could be romantic gestures done for the greater good. (We’re back the Greek references that permeated S4, the status of Anteros at the beginning of the opening credits to the show, and the overall reception from viewers of TFP.)

Also, remember Mark saying: “I’m a gay man. This is not an issue. But we’ve explicitly said this is not going to happen—there is no game plan—no matter how much we lie about other things, that this show is going to culminate in Martin and Benedict going off into the sunset together.” Well, if John as Ilsa has vacated the premises, and left that part of himself with Mary, it makes sense. Because, at the end of Casablanca, Rick walks off into the fog with Captain(!) Renault.

Regarding the clues we’ve been getting about 6, 40, & 27. In the summer of 1940, the 27-year-old teacher Murray completed the play in six weeks with the collaboration of Joan Alison. It was never shown as such until London in 1991, for 6 weeks.

Tagging @graceebooks @impatient14 and @whimsicalethnographies @may-shepard @jenna221b because they replied to some of the minor bits I added onto existing posts, which then became this...thing. Anyway, thanks for reading.