#black writing matters

[theereina]

To my black writers, poets, authors, journalists, and the like...

[taohs]

(some) Balalaika moments that lives in my head rent free

[superbat-lmao]

In college, Harvey and Harley would poke fun at being Bruce’s first friends. He’d been so closed off with all those rich kids that it took him until college to really find his people.

But that’s not entirely true.

Bruce would say he had a lot of friends actually, just that none of them stuck around for very long. Meeting each of them was completely accidental. And strange. It has taken him a while to figure out what was happening, but once he got one of them to admit to it, the rest caved pretty quick.

You see, Bruce’s friends were time travelers.

They had crazy suits, some skin tight, others padded like a SWAT team, and all of them made of stuff Bruce had never seen before. They could also do insane tricks they were willing to teach Bruce, like backflips and knife throwing when he was old enough. They promised to teach him more each time they came back through time.

They wouldn’t give him their names, but they all had nicknames for each other and that worked well enough. Didn’t want to blow up the time-space continuum.

He met “Wing” first. He’d felt moronic calling someone that looked like an adult something that wasn’t a real name, but by the time Jay, Red, and Robin turned up, he caught on to the bird theme. The girls didn’t stick with the bird thing and neither did Tom, although the knew that was a fake name, especially because Robin would often try and call him Thomas, so he assumed it was close.

So yes actually, Bruce had friends before he met Harley and Harvey. He was just waiting for the day he would meet them in his time.

[mousefists]

hello! i made an infographic on my method of making quick and sturdy protest banners.

feel free to share with your communities. if you post to other platforms please include my alt text.

[oh-phoenixx]

"Stay" - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 1392 words

-

James wanted to like Regulus. Really, he did. But overcoming that want was his love for Sirius, and his fear of his best friend getting hurt. This had happened before. Regulus had shown up on their doorstep all bruised and bloody and Sirius had welcomed him in so eagerly, just wanting to keep his brother safe. But the moment that Walburga had come looking for him, apologising to Regulus and begging him to come home, Regulus had given in. It had torn Sirius apart, and James would not let it happen again.

“You’ll really stay this time?” James asked, eyeing Regulus suspiciously. Nothing had happened to provoke Regulus’s running away, he was not adorned with any new cuts and had no story of his parents’ violence to tell. He had simply run away because he wanted to, because it was what Sirius wanted and because he knew his parents were not good people. James wanted to know where it had all come from.

“I’m going to stay,” Regulus swore stiffly. 

“You can’t just show up here and leave the second Mummy comes knocking,” James gritted out, surprising even himself with his cruelty. He tried not to show how guilty he felt. “You left Sirius and it really fucking hurt him.”

“He left me first,” Regulus spat, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m…I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I won’t let her control me anymore.”

James just nodded, still looking him up and down, as if waiting for something to pop out and ruin everything.

-

The first few weeks were hard. Despite his initial hesitation to accept Regulus into their lives, James did everything he could to make sure Regulus knew he was safe with them. He remembered how Sirius was, when he first moved in with James and his parents, and he knew what had worked for him, what had made him feel more comfortable. 

Regulus had nightmares often, and James would find him sitting in the living room, staring blankly at the wall. When this had happened with Sirius, James or Euphemia would make him tea. So, without thinking, really, James did this. He brought through a cup of tea and handed it to Regulus, who jumped when he finally noticed James.

“Bad dream?” James asked knowingly. Regulus looked him over cautiously before nodding. “Tea always helps Sirius sleep. Thought it was a safe bet.”

James learned quickly that Regulus did not speak at night. He wasn’t sure if it was the dreams or night time in general, but he didn’t question it. James also learned that Regulus was a very good listener. At first, he had started talking for the sake of not sitting in silence, not really about anything specific. Then, he shared opinions, on whatever he could think of. Movies or brands of tea or music or how that woman in the shop was rude earlier. There was a kind of domesticity to it, this end-of-the-day ritual. James got it all off his chest and went to sleep feeling a little lighter. He hoped Regulus did, too.

Progress was slow, but it was progress nonetheless. Regulus sitting a little closer each night did not go unnoticed by James. One night, Regulus had rested his head on James’s arm, and neither mentioned it, and it didn’t happen again, and James was so, so happy. With how guarded Regulus was, James had been sure that he would have hated him forever because of how cruel what James had said was. But each night, James brought him tea, and each night, Regulus accepted it and did not say a word. It was strange, really. Before Regulus had come to stay with Sirius and James, James had always seen him as this somewhat rude enigma, Sirius’s mean little brother, just like his parents. But at night, as they spoke—or, more accurately, as James spoke—, Regulus seemed so vulnerable; all tired hums and sleepy giggles one moment, and trembling hands and shaky breaths the next. 

After a particularly long day, James fell asleep earlier than usual. Work had been hard, and he had stayed up late the night before talking to Regulus. Really, his exhaustion had dragged on for weeks now, as he was always awake in case Regulus needed him.

When his alarm went off at six, as it did every morning, James sat up, rubbing his eyes and noticing the presence of the younger boy in his bed, who groaned at being woken so early in the morning. When he noticed James staring, Regulus’s eyes widened and he shot up.

“Um, sorry, I…You weren’t there last night,” Regulus explained, getting out of bed and already heading for the door. “I came in to find you and I fell asleep. Sorry. I- Sorry.”

And before James could respond or tell him that really, he didn’t mind, Regulus was out of the door, leaving James confused and a little sad, for some reason. Only after Regulus left did he notice the two mugs, one empty and one filled with now-cold tea.

That night, James did not fall asleep. He brought in the two cups of tea, and sat beside Regulus, who seemed calmer each night they were together.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Regulus whispered. James was sure it was the first time he had ever spoken to him at night. “My tea never tastes as good as yours.”

James hoped that was not the only reason Regulus was happy to have him there, but did not push it.

-

When James got home from work, all he wanted was to sit with Sirius and Regulus and watch a movie. So, the sight that he got instead was not a welcome one.

“Regulus, this is foolish,” Walburga said, looking around the flat with disgust. “You will come back. Your father and I need you.”

There was this subtle hint of desperation in her voice that James knew was intentional. Regulus swallowed hard and looked between Sirius and their mother, as if trying to decide which life to live, which of the two people he loved to appease. Then, his eyes met James’s. James tried to speak, but nothing came out. He mouthed ‘stay’.

“I’m not coming, Mother,” Regulus said, voice unsteady but determined.

She wouldn’t leave immediately, but once James and Sirius had both stepped between her and Regulus, she seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it. 

That night, Regulus walked into James’s room. He stood in the doorway, seeming unsure of himself. James gestured for him to come in, and he finally moved towards the bed, sitting awkwardly on the edge.

“Thank you,” James started. “For staying.”

“I did it for Sirius,” Regulus replied, looking away.

It stung a little, but James nodded. “I know.”

“I…I did it for you, too, though,” Regulus added, quieter.

James beamed at him, reaching a hand out and placing it on Regulus’s. He didn’t really think about it until Regulus’s eyes met his own, and he was overcome with this indescribable urge to do something. He wasn’t sure what. Or maybe he was, and he was scared. But James didn’t get scared, not of a thing like this. He leaned in, just a little, just enough to gauge Regulus’s reaction. His breath hitched and he pulled his hand out of James’s. Oh. James moved back.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry, I-” Regulus cut himself off and sighed. James tilted his head to try to catch Regulus’s eyes.

“Regulus?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Oh. That’s…nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

James laughed, though he wasn’t sure why. What Regulus had said wasn’t funny, really, but still, he laughed, and Regulus’s cheeks turned this pink colour that James could revel in for the rest of his life. That urge was suddenly so loud, and James realised that it had been there long before he had noticed it.

“Regulus?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Regulus’s ‘yes’ was just a breath, so quiet that James took a moment to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Regulus looked at him expectantly, and James nearly lunged forward. It was all want at first, deep and determined. He took a breath and pulled away to collect himself, gentling his hands and kissing Regulus again, softer this time.

When they finally parted, Regulus mumbled, “I love you, too.”

[haaam-guuuurl]

Love the flavor of soulmates that is a main m/f partnership dynamic that's mostly platonic but also romantic but also dysfunctional and yet completely essential - like these characters would not work without each other, but they barely work with each other, and most importantly they know each other carnally better than anyone else, but it's also not about sex at all it's about the partnership and navigating the highs and lows of intimacy and letting someone in, but also maybe they do fuck, but also maybe don't, but also...

[beanghostprincess]

A bit tired of people complaining about Sanji's principle of "not hitting women" being misogynistic when it has been clearly stated multiple times that he does not choose it and it's heavily tied to his trauma and admiration for his dad and respect for women and definitely not from seeing women as somehow weaker than him

[the-music-maniac]

Not that I read mpreg all that often (not really my thing generally speaking) but I came across some "Sanji is pregnant" fics in the sanzo/zosan tag, and not nearly the same amount for Zoro. It got me thinking about the trope. I think the lack of Zoro fics here is a tragic oversight. I think we as a fandom are absolutely and tragically ignoring the potential comedy gold of Zoro being the one to be pregnant instead.

Because when people write Sanji, the general trend I'm seeing (upon scanning through some of the fics quickly) is that he's cautious about it. Conscientious, careful to make sure things are okay. Which - arguably I could see, Sanji is probably the more practical of the two (not by a whole lot but still)and he didn't have a good childhood. Sanji being pregnant is usually a fic about his heaps of parental issues, childhood trauma and angst - which is fun to read. It's good. It's amazing, even.

Zoro being pregnant is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT gonna be a COMEDY. We're talking about a man who once tried to fight Kuina holding like 20 bokkens. We're talking about a man who got stuck in wax and thought the reasonable solution was to cut off his legs.

The entire crew spends the next 9 months tearing their hair out, preventing Zoro from doing stupid shit (exhibit A: cutting off his own limbs). They spend the same amount of time trying to stop Luffy from gum-gum-grabbing Zoro and yeeting him anytime he needs to get them out of a sticky situation.

The crew (mostly Sanji) is on 24/7 prevent-zoro-from-drinking-alcohol duty (impossible). Chopper is constantly stressed in the later months cause no one puts it past Zoro to get lost somewhere, give birth out in the woods and come strolling back with a baby tucked under his arm. They have to start hiding Zoro's dumbbells.

Franky and Usopp design and build a nursery and spends the entire time suspiciously teary eyed. Sanji tries to pretend he's unaffected but spends an entire night creating a 9 month meal plan of all the nutrients Zoro and the baby are gonna need. Not even a day later, one of the crew finds him up at 2 am making a mountain of food because Zoro made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning he had particular pregnancy craving within earshot of Sanji. In the end Zoro has to sit on him to stop Sanji from running himself ragged.

Robin keeps spouting morbid childbirth facts and quotes from parental advice books in equal measure. Nami keeps going on shopping sprees for cute baby clothes and adding the cost of them to Zoro's debt. Brook keeps writing lullabies and trying to sing them to Zoro's stomach. Zoro 100% uses his pregnancy belly as an excuse to walk around without a shirt 24/7 without getting nagged.

Somehow word gets out that the famous pirate hunter Zoro is pregnant, and at the next big fight with the Marines, half the soldiers refuse to fight him and instead start telling him to sit down, take it easy, shouting advice at him etc. Etc. Zoro loses his shit a little bit and cuts their boat in half.

Mihawk, upon finding out, tells Zoro in no uncertain terms that that is his grandchild and he's expecting them to visit so he can meet the baby when they're born. Zoro vehemently denies that Mihawk is his father (he is). Zeff upon finding out, is almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to being a mother hen. Perona buys even more baby clothes for the baby. She buys one singular shirt for Zoro as a joke, and it coincidentally happens to be the exact same brand of "mama" crop top he was forced to wear in that one filler episode. Zoro tries to chuck it into the ocean (he fails).

I'm essentially saying it would be absolute chaos, and it would be the funniest thing I've ever read. 9 months of Marimo wrangling. Can you imagine the look on Zoro's face if one of the opponents he was fighting were to tell him that he's "glowing"?

PLEASE, I would actually wheeze myself to death. The best part is you can still have plenty of Sanji angst. He still has parental issues except now they're flavoured with "I'm not ready to be a father" and "I'm terrified I'm gonna become my biological sperm donor" and "please don't die because of childbirth complications, that happened to my mother(sort of, I know she died after but it kinda counts), and I can't handle that happening again to you". Lots of cute/tender moments of Zoro comforting and reassuring Sanji. We can even have Zoro angst. He probably views protecting his crew as the one and only job he's good for (not true but that's probably what he thinks). Not being able to fulfill that is probably not helping his self esteem, and that sense of uselessness warring with his need to protect the baby - but the contradictory thing here is that to protect the baby he HAS to sit back and let other people do that FOR him. That plus all the other restrictions, people treating him differently, but him at the same time refusing to view his own child as a weakness. Imagine the havoc that would wreak. Oh my god.

Y'all don't understand, I don't even read mpreg that often and yet this is literally my ideal fic HAHAAAAA

[hoodlander]

You know what gets me sometimes?

That Black Noir was the only one who truly loved Homelander.

For all that he was. The good, the bad, the ugly; Noir knew it all.

And he loved him. Just as he was. Unconditionally.

[valentinevandal]

My journal entries as a black nonbinary person currently living in the U.S. 01/20/2025 - 01/25/2025

Please excuse my rough handwriting and spelling mistakes, but I think it’s important to keep a written record of one’s own story while living through a rampant corruption of government. My utmost love and support goes out to my community, my fellow queer/trans folks, my fellow people of color. They will try to censor us, sweep us under the rug, deny our very existence and our right to share our truths. Things are gonna be hard, but we will find a way. If you’re reading this, remember that I love you ❤️✊🏾🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

-Valentine Vandal

[elumish]

When people talk about fandom and fanfiction, I will sometimes see people saying, almost in the same breath, that fanfiction is important and should be preserved as/because it is queer art and that the lack of or negative female/disabled/Black/etc. representation doesn't matter because it's just people's taste or reflective of broader society.

This isn't in any way to disagree with the first point, but to say that, if representation matters, it matters for all and not just for (white bi/gay male) queerness, and prioritizing the queerness of fandom as the one true important aspect of it while dismissing the importance of all other forms of representation because you personally are less invested in reading them is just logically inconsistent and kind of hypocritical.

Start figuring out how to celebrate female art in fandom, and disabled art in fandom, and Black art in fandom, and parts of fandom that have nothing to do with queerness. You (and fandom) will only benefit from it.

[laughtalelogs]

Cuddles with Sanji

Sanji reminded you of the a summer breeze. Gentle touches that were as soft as wind sent a shiver down your spine for a fleeting second, but were quickly subverted by the warm front of his embrace. You felt a pepper of rain, as tears fall from the crystal blue skies, their clouds parting to exalt you. You felt the ground beneath you. The security you felt was overwhelming and his gravity pulled you impossibly closer, the heat between you addicting.

Your heart ached and your own tears threatened to spill. Your fingers dug deep into the flesh of his arms where he cradled you. Your chest tightened as a selfish thought pushed its way to the front of your mind. You wished to dig your heels into the earth, anything to be closer to him. A shower of praise fell on your forehead as you raised your head up to the heavens, his voice parting the clouds of your mind.

“You are beautiful, my love, I am eternally indebted to you,” the sun coos, its rays casting a warmth on your face that creeped up from your neck and prickled your ears. You didn’t dare look up, scared to be blinded by his brilliance. You pressed your lips into his neck, feeling his heart beat frantically underneath his pale skin.

“..I love you Sanji,” is all you can conjure, your gratitude too great to put into words. You let yourself sink further into the heat of his body. How could you ask for more, when he gave you the world?

first time as an adult trying to write fanfiction. I think I might continue?? I have a lot of free time rn and a couple ideas for more sanji stuff and zoro stuff too! pls stay tuned and if u have anyone else you’d like to see lmk! :)

[mothmanavenue]

can i confess something else that will absolutely get me stoned in the town square since im dropping my unpopular opinions. I don’t like altean broadsword Lance. i already disliked red paladin Lance. the broadsword was like rubbing salt in the wound. why couldn’t he have his own niche. why was his character development just making him keith. i understand that it was like “he accepts that he doesn’t have to be a leader and excels as a co-leader and you can find happiness that way yada yada yada”. but you could’ve done that without making him keith. also now give him something unique, cool, that falls in line with his sniper bit. i’m not saying just give him another gun, im saying give him something quiet and lethal. like a garotte. yeah i want garotte lance.

i yap a lot more in my notes by the way if you were interested in other unpopular opinions. don’t send me hate messages or comments i won’t read it and will block viciously i also will not be debating this this is my hill to die on <3

[slutisnotabadword]

TWILIGHT: NEW MOON

✨the bedroom scene ✨

[pwh3]

Crossroads.

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / night / word count: 864

The strap of his now not-so-favourite bag insists on slipping off his shoulder, the sketchbook he carries under the same arm with which he's holding his umbrella has stayed there by sheer miracle, and the scarf he wrapped around his neck and nose before rushing out of his room is causing his reading glasses - which he forgot to take off - to fog up making his vision a bit more difficult with every step.  Oh, and let's not forget the scale model he's balancing on his other arm, which is now in potential danger thanks to the drizzle after Regulus refused to leave it in the workroom the day before, and which is to blame for the fact that he's about to be late after spending all night putting the finishing touches on it.

Evan once said "if you see Regulus Black running, it's probably because the world is ending," and while Regulus isn't exactly running yet, if he doesn't arrive in ten minutes for his presentation, his world is the one that will be ending.

Now with his glasses completely fogged up, causing him a complete technical loss of visibility, and unable to fix the problem, he has no choice but to blindly follow the fastest route to the faculty, which he has fortunately done countless times before.

If his calculations are correct (and they are) he should now be standing in front of the glass doors that lead to his destination. Unable to close the umbrella, in an attempt to open the doors, the sketchbook under his arm slips out of his grasp, and Regulus is ready to let it go, at least the entrance is roofed over and maybe he can come back for it later, but he never gets to hear it hit the floor.

"Let me give you a hand," says a voice near him. 

Great, he looks miserable enough for someone to take pity on him.

The last thing Regulus was expecting after that is for the stranger in front of him to remove his glasses, but he is greeted by a pair of warm brown eyes framed by glasses similar to his own.

"The same thing used to happen to me all the time until I tried an anti-fog spray, if you want I can recommend it to you, it's very effective," it's then that the stranger starts wiping his glasses with his t-shirt. 

Regulus cringes. He's having violent thoughts right now. 

"And there you go," the boy says, ignoring the expression on his face and offering him a smile and then putting the glasses back in place. "Take your sketchbook too." 

Regulus, unable to respond, does nothing but stare at him through his poorly cleaned glasses.

"Oh, where are my manners. My name is James Potter," James says, holding out his free hand as if that had been the reason Regulus didn't accept the book. It is then that he seems to remember that Regulus is in a predicament. "Damn, I made a complete idiot out of myself, didn't I? Just let me..." James holds out his hand waiting for him to pass him the umbrella, to which, for lack of a better option, Regulus gives him. The boy helps him close the umbrella and passes him his workbook in quick, precise movements, as if to make up for his earlier mistake. 

James glances at his scale model and his face seems to light up. "So we're enemies!," he exclaims in a tone too happy for what he has just said.

"Sorry, what?" asks a confused Regulus.

"You're an architecture student, aren't you? I'm a civil engineering student, I'm in my third year! Your model looks spectacular but all those curves are a nightmare for me." 

Regulus is about to go blind thanks to all the light James seems to be radiating. He doesn't have time for this now.

"Hey, thank you for helping me, but I need to go."

"But your umbrella-"

"Keep it."

Now Regulus is really running.

—

An hour later, now without his reading glasses and after seeing his and others' models brutally destroyed - something he thinks he'll never quite get used to - Regulus leaves the room with it in hand. He passed and will now spend the rest of the afternoon catching up on the sleep he missed during the night.

"Are you ready? It's still raining."

Regulus considers for a few seconds before turning around. 

"You waited for me?"

"Yes, I couldn't let the work of art get wet. And neither could the model," James replies.

Regulus tries not to smile at that.

And fails.

"My name is Regulus."

"So the work of art has a name," is the reply from James who waits for him with umbrella in hand. "Maybe you can tell me more about the other artwork over coffee? Shall I help you with the model?" James holds out his arm, waiting for him to give it to him.

"Only if you promise not to clean glasses with your shirt ever again."

"I promise."

Not heartless enough to tell him he was planning on taking it to the model graveyard, Regulus hands it to him.

He wasn't that tired anyway.

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