#but if some young gay boy is scrolling through the tag

[foggyfanfic]

Random Bruno Pride Thoughts

CW: my very queer opinions

I’ve noticed that a lot of the people who identify with Bruno, like a lot of us, are demi-sexual/romantic and bi. Ever since that latest round of Jared Bush answers when he confirmed that there was a REASON Bruno is single, I’ve been thinking about what Bruno’s canonical identity might be.

I know it’s most likely that if they’re going the LGBT route they’re going to go for the more straightforward identity of Bruno being gay, which would still make me happy. (I mean, if they try saying Bruno is straight I’m laughing my ass off at them.) I just find myself hoping they go for one of the lesser known identities. There are a lot of queer stories that are still left to be told, and I think Demi-sexuality/romanticism is a good next step. I know they probably won’t go the “gender doesn’t matter but vibes are essential” route because to people who haven’t already rejected the gender binary that seems like a really complicated concept, but that would fit the character, and the fans who love him. And, there are queer kids out there who would benefit from knowing that’s an option, which (imo) is always the most important consideration when it comes to these conversations.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Riled Up | Part 3

Summary: Quarter Creek Ranch was just another kind of prison for Jensen, but at least this one came with some eye candy at the reins.

Rating: 18+ Pairing: present day!Jared (38) x young!Jensen (19)  Warnings: Homophobia and gay slurs - This story is set in Texas in 1990. Sexual activity with someone of the same gender was illegal in Texas at this point in time. If depictions of homophobia and use of derogatory, anti-gay language will be triggering for you, please scroll on. Tags: ranch owner!Jared, ranch hand!Jensen, juvenile delinquent!Jensen, twink!Jensen, homophobic language, fist fighting, thirsty thoughts, male masturbation, age difference, taboo relationship, homophobic language, fist fighting, animal cruelty (not graphic), age difference, thirsty thoughts, male masturbation, kinda sorta voyeurism (listening to someone get off) WC: 4.3k

Created for: @spnfanficpond - Alpha Reader Programme w/ @katbratsupernaturalwhore as my amazing Alpha/Beta ❤️ who has been so wonderful to put up with my wanting to make this fic way longer than it was meant to be 😅

Mini Series Masterlist

Jensen tried to control his breathing as much as possible, not wanting the snake to notice that there was potential prey within very easy reach. Luckily – or unluckily, really – Cameron and Baxter were still running around in panic, also having spotted the snake, and were currently trying to hide behind the horse that José was fighting to restrain. The whole conglomeration of them were making so much noise that Jensen figured must have scared the diamondback, because it slithered straight past himself and Jared, making its way slowly out of the paddock and towards the open field of wild grass that bordered the nearest boundary of the ranch.

When the snake was far enough away that they couldn’t hear the telltale shaking of its rattle any longer, Jensen let out a heavy sigh of relief and let the tension melt out of his body, collapsing forward and resting his forehead on the nearest surface – which just so happened to be Jared’s naked collarbone. Jensen could smell the sweat and fear that he was positive came from his own body as well as Jared’s, but he was also keenly aware of some deep scent of wood and musk and man that was unfamiliar, and he assumed it was all Jared. Unconsciously, his head rolled to the side a little, and his nose pressed against the crook of Jared’s throat, and he breathed deeply.

“Ackles,” Jared’s voice was soft and calm, but it sounded like the crack of a whip to Jensen’s ears, breaking him out of the incredibly inappropriate reverie into which he had fallen.

“Thanks for the cover, but I’m gonna need you to get your ass up and in my office now,” Jared’s words sent a crash of ice through Jensen’s overheated veins as he scrambled off his superior.

He’d forgotten, temporarily, why he’d been out in the paddock in the first place, and why Jared had rushed out to the yard despite being only half dressed. They’d been fighting – him, Baxter and Cameron – and Jared had made it very clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any more screw ups from them. They’d all had their warning; even if it hadn’t been Jensen’s fucking fault this time either, why would Jared believe him? He couldn’t keep telling Jared the same sob story of the other guys calling him names and trying to provoke him, and he knew that wouldn’t be the way Cameron and Baxter would tell it. It would be the words of two against one, and then they’d all be shipped back north to that fucking prison. At least Cameron and Baxter would be getting locked back up too. Those pricks fucking deserved it, especially after what they’d been doing to Baby. Jensen still couldn’ believe they’d stooped so low.

“Boys!” Jared hollered, and Jensen turned to see Cameron and Baxter casually walking towards the other end of the paddock, as if they were hoping in the excitement of everything, Jared had forgotten they were there. “Get your asses up to the ranch house and in my office! Now!”

For a moment, Jensen thought they might try to make a run for it, but the pair exchanged a look between themselves, and then slowly turned, trudging through the dust back towards the house.

“C’mon son, you too,” Jared shot him a stern expression and held out an arm to Jensen, gesturing for him to lead the way and indicating that he would follow. With a heavy heart, Jensen spun on his heel, his boot carving a dent in the dust, and led the way towards his own execution.

The first thing Jared did when he followed Cameron, Baxter and Jensen into his office was go to his wardrobe and pull out the spare shirt hanging there, sternly telling himself not to look over at the chair next to it where his dirty, cum stained t-shirt was still lying. He quickly did up the snaps while he was facing away from the boys and cleared his throat, turning and sitting down behind his desk, and summoning as much authority as he could muster.

“Which one of you would like to tell me what happened?” he asked gravely, eyes darting between each young man in front of him, all of whom looked shifty as hell. Jensen looked down dejectedly, refusing to meet Jared’s eyes, in what he hoped was shame at being here in this position, again.

“Ackles threw the first punch, sir,” Baxter said after a moment.

Jared raised a brow, not wanting to believe that was true.

“I see,” he mused, still examining the boys closely. “And Ackles just decided out of the blue that he’d like a punch up? Two against one isn’t a very fair fight.”

“He went at Cam, would have beaten him into dust if I hadn’t stepped in too,” Baxter objected earnestly, looking to his companion, who nodded vehemently in support of this narrative.

“Is this true Ackles?” Jared asked seriously, and only now did Jensen look up at him, meeting his gaze with angry green eyes. “Did you start the fight with Cameron?” The boy sighed shakily, red blazing up on his sun-freckled cheeks.

“Technically yes,” he admitted, “but Cameron started it. Him and Baxter had Baby out of her stall and they were messin’ her around!” Jensen started to explain as quickly as he could, but Baxter and Cameron cut across his story in their own defence.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong!” Cameron insisted with plaintive eyes.

“We were just walking her around,” Baxter argued. “We was mucking out the stall next to her an’ she was nearly kicking the door down ‘cause she wanted out so bad. We wasn’t ridin’ her or nothin’.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jensen turned on the other two, seething mad. “You weren’t even on stable duty today, you took her out because you were gonna set her loose. I heard you joking about it at dinner last week. And I saw you kicking at her hooves an’ her legs tryin’ to get her to take off! I had to stop ‘em, sir,” he looked back at Jared imploringly. “They were hurtin’ her, I had to stop ‘em.”

“We wasn’t doin’ none of that,” Baxter growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and Jared was half afraid he might start throwing punches again right here in the office.

“He’s just making that up to get us kicked out!” Cameron complained. “He’s already got one warning for fighting. And he’s one of the only violent offenders we got in our group, he can’t help himself.”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know shit about,” Jensen growled, stepping into Cameron’s space and staring him down. Baxter made a move as if he were going to dive between them and Jared decided he’d heard enough.

“Alright!” he shouted, shoving back from his desk and effectively shocking the boys into calmer temperaments again.

“All three of you have had your one warning already, so doesn’t really matter who says what, I should have you all out on your asses and shipping back up to Gainesville first thing tomorrow morning!” There was a stony silence between all the occupants of the room, and Jared swallowed heavily.

“Baxter, Cameron; upstairs and pack your bags,” he said solemnly, nodding his head towards the door. “Clearly you can’t be trusted not to get into trouble in each other’s company, so you’ll stay in separate singles tonight, is that understood?”

“What about him?!” Cameron demanded angrily, pointing at Jensen, who was resolutely staring at the floor.

“I’m not done with him yet.” Jared’s voice was deep, and croaky, like he had gravel caught in his throat, and he saw Jensen flinch in reaction to his words. “Go on now, get,” he pointed the duo towards the hall, and they morosely left to pack their things.

Jared reached for the phone on his desk and pressed the speed dial for José, telling him to supervise their packing and get them into their solitary rooms, then call the corrections facility and arrange for a trooper to come down first thing tomorrow.

“When they’re out of our room, I’ll go pack my things,” Jensen said in a hushed tone after Jared hung up and had sat back down behind the desk with a heavy sigh.

“Huh?” Jared looked up, not quite registering what Jensen had said, his own mind whirring a bit too fast and clouding his thoughts.

“To go back to Gainesville,” Jensen muttered. “I’m uh… would it be alright if I saw the horses one more time, before I left? Don’t know when they’ll let me back out, after this.”

Jared’s heart broke for the kid standing in front of him. He knew Jensen had been growing to really like it here, even if never would have thought the boy would admit it; and he knew he shouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, that everyone should be treated equally, given the same chances, but he just had a feeling that Jensen hadn’t truly been to blame for any of the shit he’s been involved in, maybe not even what he went to Juvie for in the first place. He had to be sure, though. He needed to hear Jensen’s side of it – of all of it.

“Not so fast,” Jared reached across the desk and grabbed Jensen’s wrist as he turned to leave the office. The boy looked up at him with startled eyes, and Jared saw goosebumps standing up on his arm, the sun-bleached hair sticking up like someone had shocked him with a cattle prod. “Take a seat son, and tell me one more time what happened today.”

Jensen raised a brow at Jared sceptically, but took a seat nonetheless. He had been positive that that was it, his ass was being handed to him and by this time tomorrow he’d be back under lock and key, waiting for the judge to schedule him a hearing date.

“I told you everything that happened,” Jensen said slowly, feeling uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of Jared’s hazel eyes.

“Now, I think that right there was the first lie you’ve told me all day,” Jared fixed him with a small smirk, the first crack in his otherwise authoritarian exterior. “Jensen...” he started, but then paused again, considering his words very carefully.

The boy looked up abruptly at the sound of his first name being used, it wasn’t a form of address he’d come to be used to at the ranch, or any time in the past couple of years, actually. His name sounded gentle on Jared’s lips, also not something he was used to, considering the majority of his time at home had been spent with one or both of his parents shouting it at him instead.

“Jensen,” Jared started again, shifting awkwardly in his chair, clearing his throat. “You hear things, running the kind of facility I do, and most of them are straight up bullshit. I know how teenage boys operate, and I know the kind of pressures you’re all going through, being cooped up in such close quarters with a lot of – quite frankly – volatile personalities.” He exhaled lightly, and Jensen chanced a half smile in acknowledgement. “I hear what the guys say about Baxter and Cameron, and I got no issue if it’s true or if it’s not, doesn’t concern me.”

Jensen hardened at that, beginning to sense where Jared might be going with this little speech. He knew the whispers about his roommates too; he’d never spread them, never said anything to confirm or deny what he suspected was actually spot on truth.

“I also know what guys your age fall back on when they’re scared,” Jared continued, a look of empathy clear in the lines around his eyes. “They lash out, and they project their own insecurities onto whoever’s around them. And in this case, I think that’s been you for quite a long time, hasn’t it?”

Jensen’s lips sat in a thin, straight line as he tried not to react, but Jared was right on the money with that one, and Jensen suspected that Jared knew he was.

“It used to be me,” Jared admitted with a tight smile, clearly trying to force different words out of his mouth but not quite saying what he wanted to. “I used to be right where you are. They used to call me everything that they call you: faggot, fairy boy, butt buddy… and a hell of a lot worse,” he admitted, and Jensen swallowed nervously. “And I fought back, just like you did.” the older man took a deep breath, and Jensen’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Because I was terrified that if I didn’t fight back, they’d know that everything they were accusing me of was true.”

Jensen let out a deep, shaky breath as his heart skipped once, twice; stumbling back into a rhythm eventually as Jared let his statement sit between them in silence.

“I–” Jensen’s voice cracked embarrassingly when he tried to speak, but Jared didn’t react, just waited patiently for him to start again. “Do you think they did know? That it was true?” he finally asked, his voice still shaking nervously. “Or did they just say that shit because they knew it would make you fight back?”

“I don’t really know,” Jared admitted sadly. “Is that what happened again today, Jensen? The same thing that happened with Anderson?”

Jensen nodded weakly.

“They were messin’ with Baby,” he repeated. “That’s why I went over to ‘em in the first place. They were talkin’ at dinner last week about lettin’ all the horses out, driving ‘em crazy, make ‘em all skip out. I told them to shut it when I heard, told ‘em I’d beat the shit out of ‘em if they even went near the stables. So when I saw they had Baby out in the paddock, no harness no nothin’ I ran in there and–” Jensen broke off, taking a breath to steady himself, trying not to let his anger seep through to the surface, trying to sound neutral and unaffected, so Jared might, maybe give him another chance here.

“They started calling me horsefucker, ‘cause I like being around ‘em so much,” he scoffed, and Jared’s brows rose towards his shaggy, chestnut hair in surprise. “But then they uh, they said no, I wouldn’t fuck with Baby because she’s a girl. I’d be the one bending over for the stallions. Said I didn’t want to go back to Gainesville because I only had the guards to fuck me there, and I liked the horse cocks better,” he finished bitterly, his heart rate already jumping up in anger again.

“Jensen, none of the guards at Gainesville… They didn’t, did they?” Jared asked with obvious concern.

“Oh uh, not um, not ever with me,” Jensen admitted awkwardly. “There were rumours, I mean, about others, older guys from a while ago, y’know. But they uh, they never tried anything with me.”

Jared nodded in relief and took a deep breath. He looked like he’d swallowed something incredibly sour, and Jensen couldn’t blame him. Most of his own memories made him feel the way Jared looked right now.

“I don’t know why I keep doin’ it,” Jensen said quietly, almost more to himself, an inner lament that happened to make it past a crack in the wall he usually kept all these thoughts penned behind. “I mean, I know where it started,” he kept speaking, looking up at Jared, and he didn’t know why but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop talking. Maybe it was the fact that Jared had opened up to him first, that he knew, with an astonishing amount of confidence, that Jared would never rat him out for this.

“When I was fourteen, I started dating um, this guy,” Jensen flicked his eyes up to Jared’s face, but there wasn’t any visible reaction, no shock, no disgust, just a mild, curious patience behind kind and honest eyes. “Me and him were uh, the only ones at our school, I think, anyways. And we never told anybody but somehow, someone found out. And one day the whole school was talking about it, and this other guy, Travis, he started sayin’ a bunch of shit to us. Said he’d tell the principal, get us expelled, said he’d tell our folks. Said he’d…” Jensen felt his throat close around the words, but he forced them out. “Said he’d knife us, and it would be doing the world a favour.

“I never believed him, thought he was just talking a big game to look tough at school, you know. But then, he followed us out one night, at the movies, then the bowling alley, we couldn’t shake him. And I got fucking sick of it and did the dumbest fucking…” Jensen wiped the moisture that was gathering in his eyes away, refusing to let it fall. “I kissed him, right there in front of Travis. Hoped it would scare him off. I didn’t see he had a knife in his pocket.”

“Fuck,” Jared swore under his breath, looking as if he might be on the verge of tears himself.

“I panicked, obviously,” Jensen scoffed and Jared nodded in understanding, but didn’t interrupt. “Kicked his feet out from under him, he fell back and cracked his head on the side of the curb and just like that it was over. He was in a coma.

“My parents didn’t know I was… y’know,” Jensen gulped. “And when I told them my side of it, and they got me the lawyer, they said I had to plead guilty, because if I pleaded self-defence in open court I’d have to tell them why Travis attacked us. The knife went down the gutter, there was no proof he ever had one. They were more ashamed to have a son who is the way I am than a son who was convicted of aggravated assault and locked up in juvie,” he scoffed, the reality of his life still unbelievably absurd, even to his own ears.

“So, here I am,” Jensen shrugged, clearing his throat. “They didn’t want me back when I was paroled, so this place was the next best thing.”

“I am so sorry, Jensen,” Jared grimaced, leaning forward on his forearms. “You never deserved any of this.”

“God might see it differently,” Jensen attempted a joke to lighten the mood.

“Fuck God,” Jared rolled his eyes, and Jensen let out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. “It’s okay, you can laugh,” Jared smiled at him kindly, and Jensen let himself smile just a little. “Thank you for telling me, I know how hard that must have been for you.”

“Thanks for not pulling a knife on me when you found out,” Jensen smirked, and Jared laughed this time, throwing his head back wildly, his eyes lighting up in joy.

“Hey, same to you,” Jared grinned, and Jensen had almost forgotten for a moment that Jared had made the same admission. The man that he had been lusting over for the past six weeks had told him that they were the same. All of a sudden Jensen felt his heart in his throat because all he could think about was how he’d been lying on top of Jared in the yard, the stunningly attractive man shirtless and sweaty beneath him, and how he had most definitely felt himself popping a semi before he’d gotten his thoughts under control.

Fuck, what if Jared felt it? It’s one thing having Jared know he’s into dudes, it’s a whole other thing for Jared to know he’s into him.

Jensen leapt to his feet without really knowing where he was going, but just knowing he couldn’t sit here with Jared for one moment longer or his heart might actually beat so hard it exploded.

“I, uh… should I still go pack my stuff?” Jensen asked awkwardly, realising that despite the reasoning behind all of his violent behaviour, he had still broken Jared’s rules.

“No, Jensen, I’m not sending you back to Gainesville,” Jared shook his head. “But you’ve gotta stop beating up the other guys, even if they fucking deserve it, okay? Just get yourself out of the situation, and if you want, you come and tell me, and I’ll take care of it. If you keep kicking the shit out of people, they’re gonna start asking why I haven’t shipped you off yet, you understand?”

“Yessir,” Jensen nodded immediately, relief flooding every vein in his body.

“Okay, get yourself upstairs. You’re gonna have dinner in your room and stay inside until Baxter and Cameron are gone tomorrow. If we make it look like you got house arrest for the fight today hopefully that will keep the guys off your back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jensen nodded gratefully, edging towards the door, desperate to escape and be alone with the tirade of thoughts that are spinning through his mind right now, becoming more and more inappropriate by the second.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jared smiled softly, nodding towards the door, and Jensen recognised the dismissal, shooting out the door and down the hall before Jared had the chance to notice that his downstairs brain had taken a keen interest in the topic of Jared’s sexuality.

Jared could have let one of the other boys bring the tray of dinner up to Jensen in his room, he could have even asked one of his other staff to do it, but here he was bringing it up the stairs himself. He told himself that he was thinking of Jensen’s best interests here, that the boy had had a difficult and emotionally exhausting day, and wouldn’t want anyone butting into his business. There was certainly some truth in that, but Jared knew that on the whole, his reasons were entirely selfish. He wanted to see Jensen again. He wanted to be near him again.

Since Jensen had left his office that afternoon, Jared’s mind hadn’t been able to pull itself out of the goddamn gutter. Sure, he’d had his suspicions, but actually getting the confirmation that Jensen was gay had set the gears in his mind spinning, and absolutely nothing he had done managed to slow them down. It was like his brain had forgotten every other reason that he and Jensen could never be involved with each other – their age difference, the fact that Jensen was technically in his care, the fact that being gay was still fucking illegal – and had decided to focus on the one reason why it might be possible: Jensen was gay, just like him.

And if Jensen was gay, that could mean that maybe, if the universe was interested in cutting either of them a fucking break for once, he might have the same inappropriate feelings for Jared that Jared was having for him. Jared knew how unlikely that was, but it didn’t stop him wanting to be around Jensen, because apparently he’s a giant masochist.

All the other boys were still downstairs in the canteen, and the hallway upstairs was eerily quiet. Jared could hear the floorboards creaking under his boots as he pushed off the top step and rounded the corner. As he came up to Jensen’s door, he realised he had a small problem: he couldn’t knock or open the door while he was holding the tray of dinner. Momentarily flummoxed, Jared looked between the tray and the doorknob, wishing he’d put tables in the hallway or something. He’d have to look into that. As he came to the conclusion that he could just knock with the toe of his boot, an odd sound reached his ears.

There was a creak of wood, then a groan of metal, and then a grunt of a far more human variety. Jared paused, listening curiously, and there it was again – that low, breathy moan, long and drawn out; at the same time conveying both aggravation and relief. A dull thumping started up, rhythmic and soft, and the blood in Jared’s body separated: half to his face, turning his cheeks beet red, and the other half to his cock, which went instantly stiff the moment the realisation of what Jensen was doing in his room crashed over him.

Jared had no idea what to do. Did he knock and interrupt the boy? Did he leave the tray of dinner outside for Jensen to find? Did he leave and come back with the food later? He was impossibly frozen. He didn’t want to knock and interrupt Jensen, that would be wildly inappropriate, because the only reason Jared was even contemplating that course of action was because he wanted to see what Jensen looked like when he was getting off.

Would he answer the door without a shirt, trousers hastily done up, skin flushed with the colour of his arousal? Would he be embarrassed? Or would he be able to brush it off and hide what he had been doing? No, Jared couldn’t invade his privacy like that. Not to mention, these poor boys barely got any time to themselves, living with roommates like they had at Gainesville, and now here at the ranch. This was probably the first time Jensen had had an opportunity to take care of business in ages.

Just as Jared had almost decided on leaving and coming back later with the tray of food – if he left it now, Jensen would know that he’d been overheard, and that whoever brought it up hadn’t knocked because they knew what he was doing inside – the low knocking of the bed frame against the wall, and the occasional soft groans, were eclipsed by a new sound; a whining, desperate, breathless sound. A word, actually. A name.

“Jared.”

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Riled Up: @durinsbride @epiclovestoryj2

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @letsbys-library @fictional-affairs

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @cluz1babe @maliburenee@delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

All RPF: @smoothdogsgirl

[ohnothewheatisonfire]

ok J&H Fandom, let’s talk:

“Popular” blog @thatsmyhyde​ is a prominent creator in the J&H Fandom. But here’s where the problem shows up: 

the content they make is concerning at least, and full of red flags at worst. 

DISCLAIMER: This is all information I have gathered through their tumblr blog - I am not aware of what other things they may be posting on other social medias or their written work.  ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: Please be polite, I am a minor, and am just creating this post to ward off / warn other minors from following this person. If you are an adult interacting with this post and blog, be mindful of your actions and be responsible

Trigger warnings for: discussions of homophobia, discussions of p//phillia, fat-shaming, fat-phobia (?), etc. Just be on general edge for this post, we’re talking about a lot of weird stuff

I will be linking their posts as I am not going to take screenshots of their art.

This is not a comprehensive list of all the things they’ve done - these are the ones I could think of and was able to adress. If you have anything additional you want to add to this post (such as concerning things they may do on other social media), feel free to reblog and add on the things you need to say, just please don’t be dumb. 

Let’s start with the premise: Henry Jekyll creates an alter ego, Edward Hyde. They begin a relationship - an emotional and physical one. Their AU features Jekyde (A popular ship in the fandom, the name stands for Jekyll x Hyde), people have various views on this ship. 

So far so fine, right? Here are the problems:

1. Their Henry Jekyll is an awful person. Now, let’s start by saying that of course you can have bad people in your works, those are, after-all: villains. The problem is,Henry Jekyll is a harmful walking gay sterotype, and an outlet for Biscuit’s obvious fat fetish. But their relationship isn’t just toxic it’s romanticised in how toxic it is.

a. The harmful stereotype - Their Henry Jekyll has a “thing” for younger men, even though he is in his middle-ages, and Hyde looks like a young child. (Age gap relationships are their own thing - they come with their own burdens, and this is not the post to discuss them. This topic will lead into the Edward  Hyde section of this post.) But, it was a known homophobic scare-mongering tactic of straight parents to accuse everyone who is gay that they are ‘out to prey on your youths’. This is a stereotype that stigmatized the LGBT community, and still harmfully affects them to this day. 

b. The fat fetish: Jekyll is frequently seen with cake (as seen here, here, and here)  or being self-loathing, to the point of suicide. (click the link here to acess a list of suicide and other crisis hotlines! you matter to me!). Now, the self-loathing could be a symptom of depression or other mental illness, so I am not going to talk about it, as a person with mental illnesses.  But the self-loathing in addition to him being fat is not good. Media is drowning in the “self-loathing fat person” and as someone who isn’t thin i’m tired of seeing this. 

- The fetish aspect comes in him constantly being referred to “Chonky”, a term usually used for overweight/obese cats and being drawn obsessed with cake. It fetishises his weight and dehumanises him into something people call their animals. Also, here’s more of Jekyll eating food and being embarassed by it, though this time because it’s seen as “servant’s food”. 

- Biscuit admits to liking them “Big and chunky” in posts like this. 

[Photo id: A string of texts that says: tantok, frankenstein, twink lore, dorian slipped through the cracks and got himself sketched by yours truly the other day because he brought lord henry along, he and the slime didn’t have to fight to the death because they’ve both got their own chonky old toxic henries to focus on, but this blog still ain’t big enough for the two of ‘em. end id]

- They also talk about how they ‘prefer’ to draw fat (chonky) people. Image attatched above. the thing that should be noticed is that they say ‘chonky old toxic henries’ . they, once again, are making fat people a fetish. 

[Photo id: Anonymous asks: are you gonna make a victor design tho biscuit responds: Oh, man, anon, I hate to disappoint but.....probably not. Aside from my non-humanoids and hellspwans (slime gremlins, corpse creatures, and etcetera), I’m extremely uninterested in drawing young thin men. I really need middle-aged chonk to hold my attention. If poor Victor Frankenstein had only been 40-something and round when he made his great creation, then he’d definitely get a design from yours truly. As it is though, he’s not holding my attention enough to want to. end id] 

Biscuit once again talks about how he doesn’t want to draw ‘thin men’, because he is only interested in older ‘round’ people. He, is, once again, bringing to light his fetish for fat people. 

2. Edward Hyde is basically a child - Edward Hyde is drawn in boy’s school clothes, is taken in and raised like a child after Jekyll’s death, and is constantly cooed over by the creator, even earning a nickname of ‘slime’ from them. In addition, he also has ‘family photos’ taken with Utterson, has his toenails kept, is the height of a child, and teeths. This, paired with the fact that he is in a toxic, abusive, relationship with a man in his middle ages is concerning and should not be romanticised. 

[Photo id: the text reads: In his first year of existence, Hyde lost teeth and regrew them in a mildly similar fashion to a kid losing baby teeth - except it wasn’t all of his teeth (Just the canines and some random molars) and they weren’t replaced with a larger set, just with teeth exactly the same as the ones that had been lost. No one knows what was up with this. the teeth are still in Jekyll’s study in a little jar. end id]

a. Hyde is treated like a child after Jekyll’s death. Hyde teething is concerning because that’s something infants do. He also clings to utterson like a child. The idea that he gets taken in by Utterson, whisked away to an estate out in the country, despite both of them having romantic feelings for Jekyll is. how do I put this: WEIRD. (seriously, imagine your father/father-figure dating ur significant other / having a crush on them before you two got together and after). 

b. Hyde dresses like a child, whilst being sexually active and wearing lingerie. Now, on their own, these traits aren’t a problem - but together? They are very much a problem.  

- Hyde dressing as a child is concerning because he is also treated like a child at certain points in their “lore”. After Jekyll’s death, Hyde becomes a singular entity, and is taken away by Utterson. To care for, like a child. This post sums it up well: he wears both children’s clothes and lingerie. 

- Hyde has a very strange appearance - if you compare it to his early design (which was less cartoony and looked more like a man in his twenties), Hyde’s current design is concerning. Why does he have the height of a child? Why does he have eyes that take up a grand part of his face? Now, one could argue that ‘he is not human’ - but if he is treated like a human, whilst wearing children’s/youthful clothes, teeths, and his general enchanment with the world - he appears as human (and looks eerily similar to a child), which is why him being sexually active, wearing lingerie, and being friendly with prostitutes (one that gave him underwear and other articles of clothing)  is concerning. 

- That said, Utterson is directly talked about being ‘adopted into gremlin fatherhood’ (paraphrasing). 

[Photo id: the text reads: 59. Jekyll is irresitibly attracted to everything about Hyde, but if he could somehow be forced to list hte most attractive physical attributes of Edward Hyde in his opinion, aside from Hyde’s youthful appearance in general it would be his eyes, his overbite (Jekyll perceived the way Hyde’s-) the screenshot cuts of the rest of the paragraph. end id] 

- Jekyll has a ‘thing’ for younger men. This is to the point that the most attractive part about Hyde is that he is young. (or looks like it), Hyde looking very young is concerning because that would make their verison of Doctor Jekyll a p*dophille . This is something the artist has either not recognized, realised, or simply does not acknowledge. 

3. The toxic relationship (and how it’s romanticised) - The relationship in this ‘AU’ is: love comes first, toxic nature comes second. If you scroll through the blog you may see some reference of ‘Henry Jekyll is such a toxic person teehee’ and a lot of them kissing, being together, smiling, or enjoying life. Now, obviously, an artist - if they do not want to - should not draw characters being toxic to each other. But it is concerning when the above points come into a factor, that the toxic nature of their relationship comes second to the highs of their relationship, at least on their blog. 

Here is one of the only examples I’ve seen of Biscuit talk about the relationship in a detailed negative light. 

4. The fandom - Whilst Biscuit says it’s ok for minors to interact with his blog (in that blog he says that he tags nsfw - which is true.) he does not regularly mention that his jekyde is toxic - not in a concerete way. He romanticises it (despite acknowledging it’s flaws), and the only way it may or may not be (i would not know) acknowledged is his fic: which is mature and not meant for minors. He does not tag his posts with regular triggers for things like: alcohol, drugs, mental illnesses, or abuse (any variants). They’re not even in his blog’s description! If Biscuit had acknowledged it in his blog, something along the lines of: “Hey! This blog has <content warnings> be warned when interacting! But no, he does not. 

- A lot of the people who draw things, or generally interact with Biscuit are minors. Being exposed to such a thing may be harmful to my peers, and I am worried. To minors who are fans of Biscuit: if you’ve made it this far, thank you, I know you’re mature and responsible, but being exposed to content creators like Biscuit could lead you down a dangerous path of having this kind of thing normalised to you. Be careful with the content you consume, please! And thank you for making it this far, I’m sure you’re a lovely person :)!

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Stay safe, tell the people you love that you love them. 

[melofanish]

Have Me, Have You, Have Us

@carlosreyesweek Day 3: “Well, that just happened” + Friendship.

Summary:  Five times Carlos reveals something about himself that no one else knows, and it helps him get closer to the 126 crew, and one time the 126 knows something that Carlos doesn't.

This is a multi-chaptered fic. I've tried to write them all in time to be published together, but by God, they weren't having it. I still haven't decided how I'll update, but I'm thinking bi-weekly. Tags will be updated accordingly.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Paul Strickland, Marjan Marwani, Mateo Chavez, Judd Ryder, Owen Strand, Michelle Blake, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Developing Friendship.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Homophobia.

Beta: The owner of my soul @lire-casander

Read on AO3

---

Chapter 1: Paul: Live This Life, It's All We Have

Carlos walks into the honky-tonk a mere forty-five minutes after his shift ended. He was on the way home when TK called him and asked if he would detour. He likes the man, so it didn't need much pondering over.

He sees TK standing in front of one of the multiple dartboards hung on the wall, alongside Michelle, Captain Strand, Judd, Marjan and Mateo. They seem to be engrossed in a contest, if the annoyance on Marjan's face, the smugness in Judd's and the paper and pen in Mateo's hand are anything to go by.

He hesitates for a moment, the idea of walking into the middle of the group to greet them sends a slight shiver down his back and he quickly decides he'll wait for them to finish. He spots Paul sitting at the self-claimed "126 table." He moves towards the bar, ordering mineral water, before he grabs his drink and walks towards the man. Recognising TK's jacket slung over the chair right next to Paul, he plops on the next stool over.

Paul turns around, a hint of surprise in his eyes, until the realisation of who this hits him, and it's replaced with a smile.

"Hey, man."

"Hey," Carlos greets him back, "how you doing?"

Paul shrugs, and even though it's not much, Carlos understands the meaning behind it all the same. They fall into a comfortable silence, Carlos' eyes roaming the open area ahead of them. Three girls stand in the corner, dancing quietly amongst each other, two elderly men occupy a booth, Carlos gets the vibe that they're trading life-altering experiences. More "dudebros" hang around the snooker tables and dartboards. Carlos is about to focus back on TK, when he notices a singular woman sitting in a booth alone, a drink in her hand, a small, shy smile on her lips and eyes trained somewhere on their table.

Carlos frowns. He turns around, about to ask for some super-human Paul deduction powers when he realises that Paul is staring right back at her. A shy smile on his face too.

Carlos blinks. He looks back at the woman and sees that her eyes are now on her table, and then he turns to Paul, and his eyes are roaming the ceiling of the bar. He turns back to the woman, and now she's looking at Paul again. And Paul has his eyes locked on her.

Carlos curls into himself slightly, trying to get out of their visual field. He's sitting somewhat between them, and he'd like to not be. He concentrates on his drink, and everything else in the bar that isn't Paul and his potential lady friend.

A few minutes later, he can't help but look towards her again. She's got her phone out now, scrolling up and down on the screen. Turning to Paul, he finds he's looking at his drink as well.

Carlos goes baffled. The woman is clearly interested in Paul, and while he might not be a super-detective like the other man, he can tell that the feeling is reciprocated. And yet, they're both just sitting here, alternating between eye flirting and avoidance. His curiosity gets the best of him, and he slides into the chair in between them.

"So, you're just not going to talk to her?"

Paul gawks at him, eyes widening in clear shock before he schools his reaction into some form of indifference.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Man," Carlos starts, rolling his eyes at the man, "I may not have the Gods of perception poised on my shoulders, but I'm not that blind!"

Paul narrows his eyes in response. Carlos is pretty sure he's going for accusation, but he's been trained to pick up on anything underneath, and in this case, it's a moment of contemplation. Whatever it is though, Paul seems to have made up his mind on it rather quickly. He sighs and looks down at his drink again.

"It's hard, man. Last thing I need is another rejection."

Carlos can't help the wave of sympathy that goes through him. The again that Paul’s not saying takes him back to the night they went clubbing. TK hadn't said much about why, just that a friend needed a night to have fun and forget about things.

"Ahh. Yeah. That's the queer life."

Paul snorts in reply, "Yeah, not all of us can find the one gay firefighter transfer and charm the pants off him."

Carlos lets out some mix of a loud laugh and a snort.

"Hey! I'm lucky right now, but that doesn't mean growing up didn't suck."

He can tell he's said too much by the way Paul goes quiet, and the atmosphere around them changes. With both understanding and pain. They look at each other, sharing a sympathetic smile, trying to convey a silent "yeah? You too?"

"Parents took it hard?" Paul asks.

Carlos lets out a genuine smile at that. If there's one thing he was blessed with the moment he was born, it was his family.

"The family was amazing. It's everyone else that wasn't."

Paul doesn't ask after that, not verbally at least. Carlos can see the questions in his eyes. He takes a calming breath. No one knows the story that's swarming around his mind right now. Michelle might have collected and connected bits and pieces through the years, but other than that, no one in Austin knows about his childhood.

But here he is. He's okay. And he has a friend who is in a place he was in years ago. Fighting with acceptance and fear of rejection. He takes another breath.

"I came out to my dad and sister when I was 12. Everything went well. They were supportive, pledged their love, all of that," he starts. "A few weeks later though, I started finding notes in my locker."

Paul lets out a groan, undeniably aware of what kind of notes Carlos is talking about.

"A few weeks after the notes started, I got called into the principal’s office and told that my dad would be informed and they would help us "change my homosexual ways", he added, air quotations included.

It takes him back to a decade and a half ago. When a young, short and lanky Carlos was in science class, the notes hidden in the depth of his backpack. When the school speakers boomed with the principal's voice saying "Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office. Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office." He remembers thinking, hoping, that it was about the notes, that the principal will ask who is sending him the vile words, and will make them stop.

He remembers standing up to leave, and the teacher, Mr. Roger, telling to pack his bag as well. He remembers hearing a strange tone, but not quite understanding it. He knows now it was poison, venom, hate. He remembers doing it anyway. He remembers the walk down the hallway, bag on his shoulders, and the teachers glaring at him through the glass slits in the doors.

He remembers getting to the office. The secretary, Ms. Harding, holding his hand, telling him "The Lord will cure you." He remembers not knowing what they meant. Not knowing what they were talking about. He doesn't get the chance to ask. He remembers being led to the Principal's room, the big office much more intimidating to his twelve-year-old eyes than it should have been. He remembers the nameplate; a large golden script of "Mr. Steve Atwood" and a smaller "Principal of Lubbock Junior High School" on a wooden piece. He remembers thinking it wasn't normal wood, it was red, and he didn't know wood could be red.

He remembers Mr. Atwood speaking, telling him that life is ruled by the Bible and God and Jesus. That he's a child who can still change. That this isn't the way to continue living. That his dad will be informed. That he will get help. That there are camps. That he will stop being this way.

"Were you out at school?" Paul asks, the horror evident in his tone.

It's the same horror Carlos remembers feeling when they were leaving church a few weeks before the incident, his sister by his side and their dad a few steps up ahead, talking to a neighbour. His sister had pointed towards a rainbow flag hung on the house across the street from the church. "We should get you one and hang it at home, that way the other boys like you will know where to find you," she had giggled. He had giggled right along with her, until he heard a gasp coming from behind him, and turned to find Mrs. Atwood behind him, eyes wide as he stared down at him in what he now knows was disgust. He remembers the fear that ran through him. But then his sister ran ahead. And he had followed her.

"Not really, but it doesn't make a difference," he explains. "It's not like they would have been supportive if I sat them down and told them."

Paul shakes his head, and then asks, "And then what happened?"

"My dad came in somewhere through the dialogue, I remember Mr. Atwood standing up, trying to greet him, but he was mad. Angry in a way I've never seen before. He told me to go outside and wait for him."

Carlos pauses, the memory assaulting his senses. "I heard him screaming at the principal, saying that it wasn't Mr. Atwood's place to talk to me, that I was a child, that it was none of his business. That I wouldn’t be coming back to that school again."

He remembers the entire interaction like it was mere days ago. His dad walking out of the office, squatting down to Carlos' level and asking him if he had all his things. Carlos had answered a weak "yes", and his dad was already holding his hand, pulling him out of the school and into the car.

"He was quiet throughout the car ride. We turned into our street, but he just kept going, saying he forgot to get something from the store. He started to joke around with me then, telling me he was the World's Strongest Man and he could carry me, and the car and everything and anything. I played right along, and somehow, I found myself agreeing that if he could carry me then he was as strong as he said. We circled around the block, didn't even go to any stores, and parked in front of our porch. He pulled me through his door, hid my head in his neck and ran me home."

Carlos pauses. He can see Paul frowning over the story losing sense. Just like he had thought for so long. It never made sense to him why his dad carried him. Why that day? Why that fast? Until…

"I later found out that someone had written the wonderful “f” slur on our garage door, and he didn't want me to see that."

Paul smiles and nods. Carlos knows there is nothing else he could do. There are no words or actions to express what he felt when he found that out. His dad, the man that had spent his everything raising him, seeing something he knew would hurt his child, and doing everything in his power to protect him. If he turns out to be half the father his dad was, he would consider himself a good father.

"We started packing almost immediately, and we were out of that town in a week. He wouldn't let me or my sister leave the house, not even to play in the yard, throughout the week. Dad said he got a transfer, but he was home for a month, so I have a feeling that wasn't exactly true."

"He just packed y'all up and brought you here?" Paul asks.

"Yes. That's exactly what he did. He wanted us to live freely. To love freely. And he knew we wouldn't be able to do that in Lubbock. So he moved us out."

"To Austin?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was miles better than Lubbock, so, no complaints." Paul hums, but Carlos isn't done, "And plus, I met you, my new bestest friend in Austin!"

Paul laughs at that, and Carlos can't help but join him at Paul's mumbled "Yeah, right!"

The laughter dies down, and the easy silence returns. Carlos lifts the drink to his lips, eyes searching for TK. He sees him practically hanging off Mateo, arms around his shoulders. Marjan butts in between, shaking her hands towards the board while TK makes some sort of hand gesture. They're trying to show Mateo how to throw a dart, he realises. Slightly to their side, Michelle, Captain Strand and Judd hang around, beers in hands, looking pleased. His vision roams the bar again, falling on the woman, and it dawns on him that he never got to tell Paul what started the whole story in the first place.

The realisation sends him into a frenzy. He turns to Paul, only to, of course, find him looking at the woman. He pokes Paul's arm, and his eyes break off her to focus back on Carlos.

"I didn't tell you my coming out story because I had nothing better to do, you know," Carlos starts. "I have more story."

Paul shakes his head, a smile on his face, before making a "go ahead" gesture with his hands.

"When we moved here, my dad sat me down, and told me that he had my back, and that I should live free. Be the person that I am, who happens to be gay. And I thought that would be it, you know, I'd live now. My family was supportive. I was in an open city. I had it all good."

"But?" Paul interrupts.

"But. It wasn't that easy. That interaction with the principal and the looks of the teachers hit me harder the more I grew up, the more I started to understand what they meant. And I found myself a seventeen-year-old gay guy that was out in every way but wasn’t really out. I wouldn't ask anyone out. I wouldn't flirt. I wouldn't even let myself look at guys. All because I was afraid of that judgement and rejection and hate."

Paul huffs a breath, eyes moving to stare at the table. Carlos doesn't speak either. He knows that's what this is all about. The fear of not being accepted. Of not being taken in and liked because of something as trivial as their identity. He knows Paul is contemplating the situation. The win-loss ratio. He knows he did, many times before. He still does.

"How did you get over it?"

Carlos is so lost in his own thoughts and emotions, he almost misses the mumbled question. He takes a breath, letting it out almost instantly in a sigh.

"My dad told me that I had spent too much time in fear. If I'm out, I might as well be out, live life, love life, and stop taking every rejection like it's the end of the world."

Paul nods, looking away at the woman across the bar, before Carlos continues, "When I still complained though, he then said "stop letting homophobic dickhead assholes control your life, if you like dick then you like dick, if the dick you like is a judgemental dick then find a better dick"."

Paul whips his head up to stare at Carlos, realises he is being serious, and proceeds to break out in a booming laugh. Carlos feigns offence for a moment, withdrawing his hand and holding it to his chest.

"You dare make fun of my father's sage advise?!"

Paul is still laughing, letting out broken no's and never's. Carlos drops the act, hands landing on the table and laughing with Paul, until it dies down.

"How did your nerdy self come from such wisdom?" Paul asks, after they take a moment to catch their breath.

"Hey! I took after his wisdom and handsomeness, I'll have you know!"

Paul snorts as he looks at the woman again, and Carlos turns his head just in time to see her lift her head up, make eye contact with Paul, and smile. He hears Paul inhale, and then, the scratch of a stool on wooden flooring.

He looks back at Paul, and finds that he's on his feet, fixing his pants. A grin takes over his face, and Paul levels him with a glare. It does nothing to diminish the excitement he feels when Paul pats his shoulder as he moves to the woman's table. The happy smile that takes over her face increases his own. And when she gestures at the empty seat across her - after a moment of talking - and Paul slides in, he realises that his heart beats with joy for him.

He's brought out to focus when arms circle his torso, and the very familiar lips of one TK Strand press a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"What's Paul doing?" TK says, gesturing with his chin towards the booth they're in.

"Going after the proverbial dick he likes."

[bijvoorbeeldja]

Insta-Famous!Sander AU -- Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Robbe

Robbe was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn’t slept well last night, and his head was aching at the barrage of anxiety and stress that was coursing through him in a near constant storm. 

He’d had so much shit to deal with the last few months, and his body was feeling the effects of disturbed sleep, anxious thoughts, and loss of appetite. It was hard to even get out of bed at all, much less carry on with school and his social life. Which, as it turns out, was basically imploding. 

Since he’d come out, his relationships with his friends had undergone some serious strain. Of course there was the whole mess with Noor, who he genuinely tried to make things worth with….but it just hadn’t. Jens had taken it well, if not a little frustrated that Robbe had taken so long to tell him. Robbe also suspected he was a little humiliated by the thought that Robbe had once harbored feelings for him. So they moved on and didn’t bring it up again, keeping their conversations safely nestled between school and skating. Aaron and Moyo, on the other hand, had responded in disgust and confusion, leaving Robbe feeling withdrawn and ostracized. So much for the “broerrrs.”

To make matters more complicated, he wasn’t even living at home anymore. Recently, his mom’s health had taken a turn for the worse and she was undergoing treatment at a nearby mental hospital. He missed her, and missed the familiarity of home — his room and his routine. He’d been able to rent a room in a flat of a girl at school, Zoe, and while he liked Zoe, her boyfriend Senne, and the flat owner Milan, he still felt out of place. He was lonely and hating how confusing and complicated his life had become. He just wanted to feel like himself...and to be loved.

His phone buzzed, jolting him back to his surroundings: deep morning light that was reminding him that time was passing and he couldn’t remain in bed all day, and the clink of dishware that meant his roommates were cooking. He could smell near-burning odors wafting underneath his door. He signed and grabbed his phone, unlocking it to check the handful of messages that had entered his group text with the broerrrs. 

Jens: meet @ the park today? I’ve got weed

Aaron: in that case, you know I’m there

Moyo: can’t we go somewhere with more chicks???

Jens: You couldn’t get them anyway, man

Jens: Robbe, u in?

Robbe blew out a heavy breath. His fingers hovered over keys, hesitant. 

Robbe: I should probably do some schoolwork today

Someone was typing back instantly, making Robbe’s palms sweat. God, he was pathetic. 

Moyo: screw that man, it’s Saturday

Moyo: plus, maybe we’ll get papped again?

Aaron: papped?

Moyo: You know, that art hipster who was taking photos for his school project?

Robbe: Someone was taking photos of us?? What the hell?

Jens: Dude, you didn’t know? Yeah, some alternative dude in hipster glasses asked if he could take some photos of us skating for a school thing

Aaron: makes sense, we’re so good looking

Jens: He was trying to get some artsy shots by that graffiti near the ramp. He gave me his handle so we could look at them, let me try to find it

Aaron: yeah better make sure he got my good side

Moyo: wasn’t aware you had one of those

Aaron: 🖕

Jens sent a photo.

Robbe stared at the screen, feeling suddenly flushed. 

Aaron: Duuuuude, Robbe you’re famous!!!

Moyo: hot stuff  😏 

Jens: Are you seeing the comment, though???

Moyo: who the hell is earthlingoddity?

Jens: Just LOOK at his page

The chat was silent for a few moments as everyone pulled up the account on their screen. Robbe stared at the artsy black and white photos and selfies on the account, not exactly sure what he was looking at. Or who.

Aaron: seriously?? SANDER DRIESEN? What the hell!!

Jens: I know, right?! 

Robbe went back to the account, trying to puzzle the pieces together. After a few moments, he gave up and retreated back to the chat. 

Robbe: So...who is Sander Driesen?

Moyo: dude, you have obviously not spent enough time around girls

Robbe: ….well, yeah. The reason for that is fairly obvious

Moyo: Sander is that influencer from here that all the girls are obsessed with 

Influencer? Robbe thought. He pulled Sander’s page back up, startled suddenly when he saw that the boy had more than 500,000 followers. What? How was that possible? All he posted, from what Robbe could tell, were half-naked selfies and...okay, so maybe Robbe had just focused on those. Like, he wasn’t bad looking…

Jens: Yeah, I cannot get Jana to stop talking about him 😑

Robbe: Better watch out, he’ll be coming for your girl

Jens: HA doubt it

Aaron: Sander is gay, I think? Or not gay, but the kind that likes girls, too?

Robbe groaned. His friends were idiots. 

Robbe: Bisexual?

Aaron: Yeah, that one

Moyo: well, clearly he’s more YOUR speed, Robbe. Plus, based on the comment, he’s clearly interested

Moyo: you gotta respond 

Robbe: are you kidding? 

Robbe: no way

Jens: C’mon Robbe! He was asking about you!

Robbe laughed loudly to himself in disbelief.

Robbe: ...to his friend? And that would literally be the creepiest thing ever. Besides, he wasn’t even really asking about me specifically? 

Robbe: it was more like the photo in general

Jens: right….

Moyo: if you won’t respond, I will and I’ll tag you

Robbe: don’t u dare

Moyo: …

Robbe: I WILL KILL U

Aaron: so we meeting up today or what

Robbe never thought he’d be so grateful for Aaron’s off-topic interjection. But thankfully, with that the Sander conversation that was making Robbe’s skin prickle and palms sweat was over. He kicked the bed cover off of him, trying to cool the humiliated blush that had crept over his body. Now that the group chat was onto other things, like what skatepark and what time, he had a moment to return to the photo of himself. 

He hadn’t even known it was being taken. Apparently all his friends had. He had been pretty distracted, not with the skating, but with everything that was going on in his head. He seemed to do everything in a fog these days. In that shot, he looked so...intent, so focused, and he felt weirdly vulnerable that someone had captured him like this. But more vulnerable that someone had noticed him, and commented. 

And Sander Driesen? He’d never heard of him before, but then again, he was sort of out of the loop with popular stuff, unless it was video games or action movies. He returned to Sander’s page and scrolled through it, staring shamelessly at the boy, who really was handsome. He had bleached blonde hair that was a little tousled on top, with dark roots underneath. He had tan skin and a boyish shape, but...it definitely wasn’t unattractive, Robbe thought. 

He posted often about his art, which truthfully, took Robbe’s breath away. It was serious and skilled, but at the same time...it had an air of freedom in it, like it was the way the boy could finally let go of everything. He scrolled through the feed until he nearly reached the bottom, finding pictures of Sander that were more than several years old, when the boy was young. 

Okay, I’ve to stop this?? Robbe thought.

He took one last glance at the photo of himself before he noticed something. In the last few minutes, the photographer had responded to Sander’s comment.

Robbe sat up in bed like he had been electrocuted. He brought the screen closer to his face as he inhaled sharply and read the reply.

Earthlingoddity: Hey man, cool pic. Who’s the kid? 

verfdoordecijfers: thanks, man. Was some kid I met at the skatepark by the restaurant with the French food. He and his friends let me snap some photos for our composition assignment. 

Sander had liked the reply.

[azumastan]

can I live happily ever after?

characters: muku sakisaka, kazunari miyoshi - DO NOT tag as ship

genre: fluff/light angst? idk bro. there’s a little crying.

word count: 1356

ok so it is nearly 3am and i just finished this. it has minimal proofreading because i’m just proud to be done and it’s my baby boy’s birthday.

also, it’s the first fic i’ve posted on here!! wow!! how does it feel to be so special, muku?! so, comments and constructive criticism are welcome. i know some folks get picky about how their best boys are written, so i hope i do them justice and tell me how i can do better!

here we go~

Muku loves fairy tales and stories of romance. His dream is to be a prince like in the tales he loves so much. If he could be the kind of gentleman that comes to the rescue of a beautiful girl and they dance through the night, he would be as happy as can be.

But every time he loses himself in that fantasy, there’s no girl. Not really. Sometimes there’s a figure in a dress, but not anyone really specific.

It’s not a big deal. He’s not even in high school; he doesn’t HAVE to fall in love. It sounds so nice, though. Love has to be wonderful if he was able to fill a whole bookshelf with manga about it. The pounding heart, sweaty hands.....well, maybe not that part. Muku knows what anxiety feels like all too well. But to feel that way around someone special, and have them feel the same about him, that’s a dream that could come true.

What if there’s no princess for him?

The problem isn’t that he’s worried no one will fall for him, though that’s certainly crossed his mind.

No, that’s not it. The problem is that Muku likes boys.

Probably. It’s all really confusing and he’s only ever been sure about like, four things in his life, but he has a hard time picturing himself taking a girl out on a date despite reading hundreds of scenarios, and there’s this guy in his class who has some really interesting things to say about the book they’re reading. And maybe Muku laughed a little too hard at some joke he had made during algebra and maybe he turned redder than a tomato when he bumped into the other boy playing basketball in gym class.

So, he’s realized he might be gay, and he can’t stop thinking about how he’s supposed to have his happy ending now. There’s no fairy tales where the prince rides off with a kind kitchen boy on the back of his horse. No shoujo manga where the strong, silent guy offers to share his umbrella with the shy, pretty boy from class.

What kind of fantasy lies in Muku’s future then?

He laid there in his dorm bed, tears pricking his eyes. Ugh. He sniffled. How pathetic am I, crying over my non-existent love life because now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the happily ever after that I’ve read about? Muku wiped his watering eyes with his pajama sleeve and sniffled again.

“Mukkun?” Kazunari sat up in his bed, trying to see the boy with pink hair across the dark room. “Are you okay, Mukkun?”

“Oh! Kazunari! I’m okay, I swear! I’m sorry to bother you. Go back to sleep.”

“Nope.” Kazunari turned on his phone flashlight, climbed out of bed and turned on a floor lamp. “I was just scrolling through Instablam, anyway. You can talk to me,” he said, plodding over to Muku’s bed to look the younger boy in the eyes.

That was what broke the dam, sending tears streaming down Muku’s face. Kazunari hesitated before climbing up next to him and placing his arm around his sobbing roommate.

“Hey, hey. Mukkun, shhhh....... I got you,” he murmured.

In a minute, Muku’s tears stopped flowing so freely. After the whole room was silent for a little while, Kazunari asked “Do you want me to go get Juza?”

Muku shook his head, and, voice quivering, he replied, “I think — I think I just needed to cry, Kazu-kun. Really.” He punctuated this statement with another sniffle, causing Kazunari’s brow to furrow. Still doubtful, the blond boy took his arm back, giving Muku some space if he wanted it.  Muku didn’t seem to notice the absence of Kazunari’s arm, but he did turn his head towards him.

“Hey, uh, Kazu-kun? Do you have any gay friends?” Muku’s voice trailed off at the end of his question, a little uncomfortable with what he was saying and afraid Kazunari would know what he was getting at before he said anything explicitly.

Kazunari smiled. “Totes! I’ve got loads of LGBT pals! Wait.” He laughed a little. Muku’s heart sank. Did he know what Muku was thinking? Was he going to laugh at him? Oh no, no, please, not that…..

“Dude, did you think I was straight?! LMAO, it’s not like I try to hide it.”

Muku’s jaw dropped. “You—? But you’re always going on about all the cute girls outside when we do street acts.”

The young man shrugged. “Yeah. I do like girls, but I like boys too. I like a lot of people.”

“Oh.” Muku sighed, feeling weirdly light after what Kazunari admitted. “Sorry I assumed anything, I just thought, hey, Kazunari has a lot of friends, maybe he knows some people who fell in love like in a shoujo manga and it didn’t matter that they didn’t like girls—“

“Hey.” Kazunari ruffled the middle school boy’s pink mop of hair. “Would that have anything to do with what had you so upset, Mukkun?”

He breathed in, and in what seemed to be one long exhale, Muku managed to speak practically a whole chapter. “UhhhhhhsureIthinkI’mgayandit’snotabigdealIthink. Isitabigdeal? Idon’tknowandIguessItrynottodwellonitbutifIwanttobeaprincehowcanIdothatifIdon’twanttomarryaprincessand-“

“Whoa there! Slow down, bro!” Kazunari took Muku’s hand. “I got most of that, but you need to breathe, Mukkun! Okay, go on.”

Taking a few deep breaths at his roommate’s suggestion, Muku continued. “I think, maybe, I’m gay? Because I can’t really picture my future princess, and you know about my imagination, hahaha. And there’s a boy in my class that makes my heart pound like crazy and it’s just like a shoujo manga says it should be, but that’s about boys and girls and I know it’s not…..wrong, but it doesn’t feel….right, exactly. Princes get the girl, that’s how it always is. And I don’t want to give up on that dream,” he finished as his voice started to break.

Kazunari sucked in his lips, trying to think of a response that would calm him down and cheer him up, but he didn’t want to confuse the young boy any farther. He knew himself what it was like to be in school and fall for other boys, and Muku, notorious for having his head in the clouds, made a lot of very good points. There aren’t any gay fairy tales or gay princes. And while Muku didn’t need any help getting lost in a fantasy, it can’t be easy when every romance he sees is showing him that straight is the default.

Well, he could do something about that.

Kazunari put his hand on Muku’s head again, and said, “I’m really glad you told me about this. I wish I had something more helpful to tell you right now, but I’m beat, and you probably are too. We should try to get some sleep. But you don’t have to forget about your dream, okay? You’re gonna be the best prince there ever was.”

“Okay. Good night, Kazu,” he said with a yawn. Guess Kazunari couldn’t have timed that better.

“Good night, Mukkun,” Kazunari pushed himself off of Muku’s bed, walked over to turn out the light, and then crawled back into his own bed.

------------------ 

The next afternoon, Muku went to his room to drop off his school bag when he noticed a folded piece of paper on his desk that read “Prince Mukkun.” Dropping his bag and picking up the mystery paper, he opened it to find a gorgeous pencil drawing of himself in a fine military uniform, wearing a crown, and sitting atop a white horse. Even more surprising, there was a black-haired boy with a regal looking tunic and a sword standing next to the horse. There was a caption at the bottom of the page that read “The Prince and the Knight.”

Muku’s face broke out into a smile. He hadn’t signed it, but it was undeniably the work of Kazunari. Grabbing a push pin, he put the picture up on his bulletin board next to the calendar. Then, he left the dorm room to sit in the courtyard and mentally continue the story Kazunari had started for him.

[writers-hes]

how do you want to spend new years eve?

hello, guys! thank you so much for your support on christmas record! i’ve been getting some requests to continue it and late christmas and i will get to it, after the plans that im currently thinking of! meanwhile, here is a new years-themed fic! if

if you haven’t read the fics mentioned above, you can read them here.  if you want to be a part of my taglist, you can do so by reblogging or liking this post. 

don’t forget, requests are open! ❤️

warnings: SMUT !!!!! swearing, alcohol + unedited

(it’s my first time writing smut so please leave me some feedback! i love you guys and thank you guys so much for 140+ followers, i love u all!)

--------

“I can’t do this anymore,”

Words that Harry told you when last year’s New Year’s Eve. Harry didn’t know why he was saying those words, perhaps it was because he wanted to take the young model to bed instead of you. Harry watched you crumble that night, asking what happened, asking if it was your fault. It wasn’t any. In fact, things were going great--so great between the two of you. Perhaps the reason why Harry broke up with you was because for him, distance was the antidote to the love he was feeling. Perhaps he was scared because all of his past relationships never seemed to work out, a sick part of him wanted you not to work out. Heartbreak brings a new writing material, anyway. He felt it at first, how in love he was suddenly being when you combed the stores in London to find his favourite bath gel. It was the little things that you noticed and the little things that Harry’s beating himself up for now.

The year was so great for Harry, releasing his new album and all that. He just had two successful live shows in Los Angeles and in London. People celebrated him wherever he went and he had this rockstar status that you once used to love but he’d just rather be at home with you. He’d rather spend the night with you instead of getting wasted during the afterparties, trying his best to forget the greatest mistake he’s ever done. It was annoyingly painful, how he saw your face in crowds, he knows you weren’t there but he was hoping. One time, strolling in his hometown, Holmes Chapel, he thought he saw you. He ran after you, grasping the arms of the girl in front of him. It wasn’t you--she just looked like you. Seven billion faces in the world and yours was the only face he memorised perfectly. He memorised how you scrunch your nose, how you’d raise your eyebrows, the curve of your lips, the shape of your tongue, and the softness of your eyes.

It wasn’t purposefully, how he never saw if you were off having the best life you could. He was just bored and decided to go on Instagram. He was scrolling through the photos of his friends, even liking some of them when he stumbled upon a picture of you, wearing a shirt he gave you, whilst looking another man in adoration. He bit his lip, making himself believe that that was not his shirt and even if it was, you weren’t looking at another boy--you were looking at him. He lightly tapped on the photo, seeing as you tagged the prick that was in it. He chuckled, it was Leon Harris, a friend of yours that he always found annoying. How come he never recognised him? He saw how this Leon guy was looking at you while you were both dating. He frowned. How long have you been with this Harris prick? It was jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach but at the same time, it was the need to see more of you. He wanted to see how Leon Harris viewed you. Does he see you the way Harry does? Does he kiss you like Harry does? Does he hold you like Harry does? Was he a better man than Harry?

He sighed, scrolling through Leon’s photos. He’s a douchebag. Surely, my angel could do better than this. Harry was irked and irritated. Leon never posted photos of you--he only posted photos of football, gaming consoles, going out with the boys, and unnecessary flexing of his father’s money. Harry was annoyed. He felt his skin prickling with the thought of you being touched by Leon in ways he shouldn’t. That night, he drowned himself in putrid brown liquid. To think, he had all the money he could ever want in the world but still settled for convenience store-grade whiskey. Tomorrow would be a better day.

“Fuck,” he said once he woke up. He remembered the night before, him downing the bottle of whatever shit was in the glass bottle. His head was pounding and he knew that if you were here right now, you would take care of him. He always looked for you, even though he was the one who broke your heart. New Years Eve was coming around and people were already asking him to make an appearance in some parties. He wanted to, he really did but the risk of bumping into you in some of the parties were high. He wasn’t ready to see the face of the woman that haunted him every night for the past year. He lazily walked towards his en-suite, one of the many rooms that smelled like you. He made sure to buy the exact perfume you always wore and spray it around the house. Harry knew that it was unhealthy, holding onto every piece of you when he was the one who decided to end things. He was annoyed at himself and wanted nothing more than to call you but it will only stay like that, a wish. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and to call you because he knew you were hurting. Perhaps you weren’t hurting now, seeing as you were with Leon but maybe you’re still stuck on him, seeing as you were wearing his shirt and a chain around your neck with his heavy ‘H’ ring hanging. Who else was ‘H’ in your life? He couldn’t remember any. As he was taking a shower, he was confused. Was that photograph a sign to call you? Or was it you slapping him in the face because you would never come back to him?

-----

Harry decided to drop by Nick’s NYE party. He never got to see his old friend around and wanted nothing more than to confide in his friend. Nick was your friend too but he always belonged to Harry. He was Harry’s friend first, after all. He might see you there but at least, liquid courage would flow freely into his bloodstream, giving him all the confidence that he needs in order for him to talk to you again.

When Nick learned that Harry was coming to his party, he was ecstatic. It’s been awhile since he last saw Harry and he really missed him. After the break-up, he knew immediately that Harry was broken and in the seams--so were you. Nick invited you to his party, too and you weren’t sure if it was an act of kindness or generosity. Perhaps he was pitying you because all of you and Harry’s mutual friends left you after the break-up, a confirmation that they never really liked you. They only liked to be closer to Harry for his money, fame, and influence. Who wouldn’t want to be near the Harry Styles after all? Still, you knew Nick wasn’t like that. He genuinely liked you after Harry formally introduced the both of you to each other. You were practically joined by the hip whenever Harry was touring and it was nice--it was just you who decided to distance yourself from the friendship when you and Harry broke up, avoiding everything that was related to him.

You had just woken up when Leon knocked at your door. Through your break-up, Leon was there to console you. You tried dating each other but it just didn’t work out--Leon was not Harry and you were not a boy. So instead, you hired Leon to be your assistant, seeing as he was unemployed and was also your friend.

“Y/N if you don’t wake up the fucking door I will break this down!” Leon called from outside. Groggily, you made your way to the door of your London penthouse. You opened the door to reveal Leon, in what he would call an outfit that was out of his comfort zone. You understood, though, seeing as Leon was still inside the closet. The only people who knew he was gay was you and his sprinkling of boyfriends who also happened to be inside the closet. You understood, though. Leon’s family was strict when it comes to homosexuality so he had to act as a straight black boy--always going to the gym, making his Instagram as douche-y as possible, and so one. You felt for him, always asking him if you could do something for him. He would always say no telling you how much your friendship and the job you gave him was enough.

“What do you want?” you asked as you walked to your couch to continue your sleep.

“Remember? Nick Grimshaw is coming in today for a fitting,” Leon reminded. You sighed. You were a designer based in London but because of Harry, you had more artists come at you for designs. That was how you and Harry met, you being introduced by Harry L, his stylist, before his world tour for a couple of suits. He then came to you a few months after, asking for some pieces for his magazine covers and you agreed. Your heart ached at the memory of you and Harry playing with new pieces you came up with. Harry always loved your designs.

“Oh, yeah. Where was it again?” you asked, disoriented because you’d see Nick Grimshaw again. You’d be reminded of Harry again. It wasn’t as if you weren’t reminded of him all the time, though. The burning sensation of his gold ‘H’ ring hanging from your chest every time. It became your source of comfort and it was pathetic how you still held onto it for so long--it’s been almost a year. “It’s here, yeah?” you asked, to which Leon nodded. You nodded as well, limping towards your bathroom to be ready for the day.

“I’ll make coffee!” Leon shouted as you trudged to the comforts of your hot shower.

It was a few hours later when your doorbell rang. Nick’s custom silk pants and denim jacket was laying on your couch, ready to be worn by the celebrity. If it fit him, you’d be focusing on the apliques and the details that he wanted to have--they were quite easy actually. He just wanted to have his name in sparkling red embroidery, almost looking like something inspired from Gucci (Harry’s favourite, your heart hurt) but entirely different at the same time. Leon opened the door as you shuffled back and forth to make sure everything was dandy. “Y/n! Oh, how I missed you so much!” Nick greeted as soon as he saw you flip through the crystals that you would embed on the lining of his pants. You smiled and gave him a hug, to which he returned. He looked at Leon and greeted him as well. Leon only replied with a “hey, man” and if it weren’t for Nick not knowing that Leon was gay (they kissed many months ago), he would think that Leon was your boyfriend. “How are you, Nick?” you asked. “Really doing well but better because you’re coming to my party!” he answered. You frowned in confusion. “I’m not going,” you told him. “Harry would be there and I don’t really wanna see him.” “But Y/N…” he trailed. “It’s been so long since we last hung together! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me,” he pouted. Leon decided to exclude himself from the conversation going straight to the kitchen to get some refreshments for your guest. “Nick--” “Just come on to the party and all will be forgiven,” he cheekily grinned. In reality, he was never really mad at you. He understood why you decided to distance yourself from him but he still likes you as a person and wanted to be your friend. You sighed, nodding to his request. He squealed. “Now, where is it? I wanna fit through my special outfit now,” he said. You motioned him to the pieces lying on the couch. “So you wanted to have something hip and vintage, right? Well, here’s a pair of black silk pants. They would be embedded with diamond Swarovskis on the side. Then,” you trailed looking for the surprise that you wanted to give him. “Ah, here’s a special just for you. I worked on it by myself,” you said, showing Grimmy a large hand-made sewn on patch of his caricature. You also showed him ‘GRIMMY’ in a font quite similar to BBCRadio1 in sparkling red thread.

“Wow--I am floored! These are so good!” he exclaimed, carefully taking the patches from you. He observed them, amazed by how far you went onto the detailing of his face to his favourite shade of red.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “It’s nothing. You’re my friend and I wanted to make your day extra special,” you muttered. “I’ll have them sewn on before the event ASAP so you could get it tomorrow or the next if the blank pieces already fit you or the 30th if there are still alterations to be made,” Nick stood up immediately, trying on the pieces over his current clothes and declared that they were the perfect fit. You smiled at him, appreciating how much he appreciated your work.

“I’m really glad to be your friend, y/n. I know Harry will be there and I know what he did but if you ever need me for anything, just call an old man like me, even if it’s just for a laugh,” he said. “The pants and jacket are a perfect fit, by the way.”

-----------

It was the day of the gruelling New Years Eve party hosted by Harry’s friend--Nick Grimshaw. He wasn’t quite sure if you were coming but just in case, he wore the other half of his iconic ‘H’ ring--the gold Gucci ‘S’ ring on his pinky, the ring you gave him on his ring finger, as if telling you that he was still yours to take, and a couple of rings he bought from all around the world. He also wore a custom polo shirt from you, one that you collaborated on with his mum for his birthday. No designer brand could top off the beauty that he was wearing. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, after you see him tonight, you’d come back to him.

He sighed, anxious to see you—or not. From what he could recall, you distanced yourself from Grimmy. Maybe you rejected his invite, maybe not. Who knows what you were doing anymore? Why should he care? You were with Leon Harris. In his mind, the worst rebound you could ever get. You knew he hated Leon, that prick was a good for nothing douchebag. Harry went over to his collection of liquor, pouring himself a shot of vodka. Who was he to judge your tastes? It was him who broke things off, leaving you with nothing and no one. He knew that your mutual friends sided with him and left you. He groaned as he downed the shot, annoyed at himself. He misses you and he doesn’t know how to take you back.

“Leon, stop!” you groaned as he laid down your revealing party dresses. You were opting for a pair of floral pants and black shirt. Leon, however, disagreed with your choice.

“What? You should show him what he’s missing,” he shrugged.

“There’s nothing to show,” you muttered, taking a red dress off the bed to shut Leon up. You changed, not really minding if Leon was there, seeing as he wouldn’t even think about you that way.

“Look, I know you’ve been wallowing in your sadness since he ended things but it’s been a year, y/n. You should let things go,” your friend sighed as soon as he zipped you up. You sat on your vanity chair and took your curling iron.

“It’s not that easy,” you sighed as your curled the first strand of your hair. You spent the afternoon like that, fixing up your hair and putting on your makeup. Leon sighed, he knew that you were clearly affected by seeing your ex again. Leon was happy though, you maynit see it but you were clearly stressing about what version of you you would present to Harry. Leon was positive that this would end up in some make-up sex but who knows?

Harry arrived at the party earlier than you did. Knowing you, it probably took you hours to get ready for Leon. You loved doing that and you used to dress up for him. Sure, you were a secure woman but you still loved to make sure that your man’s eyes was on you and you only. Still, from a far, he would stare at you, the way he did when you were still together. He immediately made it a mission to look for Grimmy. He was porbably out there, entertaining guests but Harry wasn’t really in the mood to socialize. He was just here to get drunk and see you—if you were even coming.

“There he is!” Nick exclaimed as he saw Harry walk towards him. Nick’s friends looked at the poostar.

“Hey, Nick. Thanks for the invite,” Harry smiled. Nick saw that Harry was clearly uneasy.

“Love the polo shirt but you’d probably want to look like you actually want to be here,” Nick said. “Y/N’s attending the party,”

“Could’ve told me that before I wore this shit,” Harry grumbled. He took a flute of champagne to one of the bartenders walking around and downed it immediately. Nick looked at him incredulously. “If I have to see her, I have to see her while I’m drunk,”

Nick sighed but still guided Harry to the special booth for Nick’s closest friends.

You stumbled in, a little tipsy in the bar to look for Nicky. Nick when you’re sober, Nicky when you consumed alcohol. You were with Leon who was holding your hand, just in case someone bumped in on you and you tripped. Leon sighed, obviously being sober in this situation. He was sure that Harry was here, seeing as there were shitty headlines such as HARRY STYLES WEAR Y/N Y/L/N’S COUTURE IN NICK GRIMES ANNUAL NYE PARTY.

Leon saw it though. He was wearing the special polo shirt you and his mother designed. He knew the intricacies of the polo shirt because on your first and last attempt to date, you rambled about Harry. You told him that instead of the signature tag of the customers with Mademoiselle or Monsieur as prefix, you opted to embroider my love, Harry--a one of a kind polo shirt. Leon has seen him wear the said shirts in Harry’s appearances, even getting the nickname ‘Harry’s special’ by many of his fans.

“Y/N!” Nick exclaimed as he saw you and Leon. You looked at him and immediately sobered up, seeing as Harry was latched onto his shoulder. You looked at Harry, suddenly aware of his presence and your self. He was looking at Leon with jealousy and you knew it, Harry never liked Leon and you walk in here with him in a dress like yours? It was killing him.

“Y/N, Harris.” your ex-boyfriend acknowledged. “Harry,” you nodded. Leon looked at him, aware that your ex was probably killing your friend in his mind. “I see that you have replaced me so easily, y/n,” Harry slurred. He was pretty sure he won’t remember shit tomorrow so he decided to just go with the flow. “Ha! See, Nick? Liquid courage,” he chuckled as he took a swig off of his beer bottle. “Alright, Harry. That’s enough,” you interjected, trying to take the bottle away from Harry. He clearly drank a little too much and you know that when Harry was drunk, he has the tendency to say things he didn’t mean at all. It’s not even a defense or anything, he just does it. “No, you’re not my girlfriend anymore. You can’t control me. Why don’t you go be with that Harris prick? Honestly, angel? You could do way better than that wanker, yeah?” he says, pointing his bottle to Leon who was busy eyeing down Nick.

“Harry--give me that bottle.” you said, clearly annoyed with how things are currently going.  Why was he being difficult?

“Do you still love me, y/n? Look, I’m wearing the polo shirt you gave me,” he says, twirling like a little girl showing off her new outfit. “I see you’re wearing my ‘H’ ring, too. I saw it the other day...Instagram. That must mean something, yeah?”  he asked, tilting his head to the side. He surrendered the bottle to you.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere so you could sit and clear your head, yeah?” you asked, holding his arm. “Leon,” you called to your friend. “I’ll just help Harry clear his mind. I’ll find you later, yeah? I’m sorry,” you said. Leon only nodded, mouthing a ‘sure’ before talking to a friend Nick introduced him to.

“If you don’t love me, you wouldn’t take care of me like this. Remember when you would do this lot? I miss it,” he rambled. You weren’t sure if he was being serious enough but you decided that either way, your heart was hurting. A silence fell upon the both of you as you sat on the booth.

“Harry, stay here yeah? I’ll see if someone could get you some water,” you said, standing up from the couch. Harry grabbed your hand.

“Please, stay. I promise I won’t say anything anymore. Just...stay here, love? Please? It’s been a while since you were this close to me and tonight, let’s just do things like the old times, yeah?” he asked. You were torn, so fucking torn with what he was saying. Wasn’t he the one who asked for a break? It’s been a year and you missed him. You really do.

“Harry,” you started, staring at his lips. You missed how soft it was, you missed how he kissed you. “Can we, can we kiss?” you asked. Harry sobered up. Were you really asking him to kiss you? He sat up straight looking at you. He inched closer until he could feel your heavy breaths. Your chest was heaving and you were itching for him to get closer. He smiled, taking your chin with his ring clad fingers until your lips met. It was slow and nice, two lovers yearning to be with each other again but soon enough, with too much yearning and passion, your kiss became heated. You didn’t notice it but Harry’s hands soon found your arms, caressing your bare arms up and down, the coldness of his rings against your warm skin a pleasuring contrast.

“Fuck,” he breathed as soon as you both pulled away. “Do you want to take this somewhere?” he asked. You nodded, mind too hazy from what just happened. You collected your bag that was left beside you.

“Let’s use the back door and walk discreetly, yeah?” you asked, Harry was never one to bring drivers during the holidays and so were you. You were intoxicated so you both didn’t want to drive. “Then, let’s just hail a car or something when we’re a little too far away,” you said. “I’ll just text Leon,” you added as you unlocked your phone.

“W-wait, Leon,” Harry rasped.

“You don’t have to worry about him. I’m single and I’m not his type,” you breathed as your grabbed his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should believe you, but nodded anyway. He was too desperate--all he wanted was to feel you close. You both made a beeline to the backdoor and exited, silently thanking the Lord for the absence of paparazzi. You walked, an awkward silence falling between the both of you. Still, your minds were hazy with lust, yearning, and love. You were a little far away when you hailed a taxi, telling the driver to go straight to Harry’s place, seeing as his house was nearer than yours. The both of you were obviously itching to touch each other but you refrained, you didn’t want anyone to see and complicate things.

The moment you arrived at Harry’s door (thank God he cleaned), your mouth was on his. This time, your kiss was more daring and passionate, all curfew thrown outside the window. You moaned as he trailed down to your neck, your back against the wall. He was sucking and licking the spot where your neck and shoulder blades met, your spot as he would call it. You were sure that he would leave a mark in the morning but you didn’t care. You were tugging at his hair, something that he always liked, to encourage him to go lower.

“Come,” he rasped as he took your hand to his bedroom. You both tiptoed in the dark hallways of his massive house until your back met the mattress in his bedroom. “How do you think I feel once I saw you in this red dress?” he asked. You weren’t able to answer his question as he kissed you again, only this time, his hand was playing with the thin straps of your silk dress. He lowered it.

Meanwhile, your hands were on his polo shirt, carefully unbuttoning the material off of his torso. Once you were able to take off the buttons, your hands met his tattooed chest. He moaned at the contact.

“Unzip me?” you asked as soon as he moved his lips down to the skin visible on your chest. He sucked your skin as you raised you body, his hands going underneath you to unzip the tight red dress off your body. He stopped for a moment, looking at your naked chest.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he moaned as he put his mouth on your nipple. You arched your chest towards him, his ring clad fingers kneading your other breast. Your hands were inching towards your underwear, nothing really special because you weren’t expecting this. “Ah, ah, ah,” he taunted, the moment he felt your fingers go lower.

“Harry—“

“No, let me do it, love,” he whispered. His mouth latched on to your other nipple, only this time, his fingers were trailing down to your clothed center. Your hips grinded on his hands, the rings giving you more texture. You were whimpering, begging for your ex-boyfriend to touch you. He chuckled a little bit, pushing your underwear to the sides before teasing your clit. You grounded your hips again, and Harry gave in, flicking the button in between your legs.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “more, Harry…”

“You want this? You want me to fill you up?” he asked, breathy. Quite frankly, his manhood was penting up in his pants. You nodded and Harry moaned, completely removing your underwear. Your hands trailed to his pants, massaging him through his fabric. Your hands immediately unbuttoned his trousers, and he stood up, removing it alone with his boxers. Your hands immediately found his dick, rubbing the precum all over before you pushed Harry onto the bed.

“What do you want me to do, Harry?” you asked seductively.

“Ride me,” he says. He bucked his hips towards your hands, clearly wanting more. “Come one, love,” he encouraged. You sat in his lap, taking his dick in between your hands, rubbing it on your clit for a few times before inserting the tip inside you. “I missed this, fuck,” he moaned. You moaned too, sitting lower until his length was filling you up. “I think you had your fun already,” he taunted, flipping you over. He leaned onto you as he pounded into you a few times.

“Harry, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your hand went to your clit, rubbing it as Harry went in and out of you.

“You just can’t get enough can you?” he asked. Your other hand and legs were around him, your nails digging onto his back. You nodded. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, love,” he said as he pounded into you harder. His hand was immediately on your nipple, pinching and tugging it. It was sensory overload, his hands on your breast, yours on your clit, him inside you, your nails onto him. He moaned, putting his mouth on yours as his tongue entered your mouth. You both felt his thrusts going sloppier and sloppier as your walls started to clench.

“Harry, I’m cumming, fill me up...cum inside me,” you moaned. The popstar only gruntled, obviously bathing in your wetness.

“Cum, princess. Cum on my cock, cum with me,” he moaned as you both came, his cum filling you up and your walls clenching around him.

“I love you,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t notice but he did, stopping for a moment, looking at you. “Let’s talk about it later,” you smiled.

He thrusted for a few more times before removing his girth inside you. He immediately looked for a towel to wipe you with it and you waited. He always did this—you waited, basking in the afterglow of sex.

��————-

It was 4 am in the morning and you were both naked underneath the sheets. You didn’t talk about your confession, sleeping immediately once he wiped down the mess on your legs and he sighed.

It was 4 am and he was sound asleep, his tattooed arm wrapped around your torso. You removed it carefully and he shuffled in his sleep. You watched him, tears springing in your eyes before silently dressing up and tiptoeing until you were outside his room. He didn’t notice it, too sound asleep. You were silently sobbing as you buckled the straps of your black heels, calling for a car. It took a few minutes of you waiting outside his gates, the cold breeze raising goosebumps on your skin.

That was how you spent your New Years Eve and New Years, having sex with your ex and then, regretting it hours later because you told him you loved him.

PART TWO?

happy new years! i hope this is the first / last fic you’ve read for the decade. thanks again! xxxx

taglist:

@giitterysuits / @floral-suits @bree082 @dezzym17 @bouncebackbyers @lolapuffs @belleamoree @demolition-lovers-blog @gorgeouslygrace @styledharry @nervousshoeghostmoney

[screechingkingdomhottub]

my thoughts on the starkid controversies

{TCB included} yo so i got some opinions that i’m gonna spread...now. So does starkid have some inherently problematic things in their musicals that whether intentionally or not promotes a stereotype? Yeah. Let’s unpack these a little, okay? So let’s start at the beginning with Little White Lie. I think Little White Lie did great, there’s an episode where they defend trans people and the transphobic person is the villain and as a young closeted trans dude watching that...it was totally awesome. Now, AVPM, i dunno mans. I love it, I’ve seen the series many a times and used to watch it to cheer me up at night, I think it critiques JKR’s stereotypes very well and goes full out of “well if dumbledore is gay...let’s make him flaming gay” which is awesome. I saw Devin posted a youtube video talking about how she feels she stole the Cho Chang role away from an Asian actress who is known for playing Lavender Brown called Sango Tajima. I, personally, never got that vibe but I don’t think that’s up to me, I wasn’t there, I’m white, she ended up getting more roles and I encourage y’all to watch Devin’s video on it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fubo7wfGcuo  I’m gonna skip a few cause there’s a lot of musicals and I’m tired. I think a lot of people feel uncomfortable about Umbridge’s portrayal and the way the relationship with Dumbledore is done because it can correlate to the trans women are often seen and portrayed and watching it thinking about it like that...makes it a bit cringey. On a similar note, in Spies Are Forever, Susan is a crossdressing character that has transphobic undertones.  Now, I’m not saying starkid are transphobic or racist or should be cancelled or whatever. And I believe a lot of this stuff they have redeemed and tried to progress forward a lot better and that’s awesome. I am a firm believer everyone should just be judged based on their intentions. If someone has good intentions but does a shite job and people point out they’re not fulfilling those good intentions then they can change and grow and it’s great.  So I love Black Friday but I have a gripe. Can we talk about Gary Goldstein for a bit? Now, I find the character kinda funny, Jon is an amazing actor and his portrayal is awesome. But Gary Goldstein is a lawyer...a very greedy lawyer...with the last name Goldstein. So for those of you that are unaware, Goldstein is a Jewish last name...Jewish stereotypes commonly consist of being very greedy lawyers...you see the issue here? I’m not Jewish, being completely honest I’m still confused about what being Jewish actually means however for Black Friday to take such strong political stances and add to it a so easily avoidable tidbit, literally without the name no one would conflate it with being Jewish but damn. And Hatchetfield names matter so much from what I’ve seen, so there’s thought behind this which makes it worse?  So onto Robert Manion, pitchforks ready? The first controversy I saw about him was to do with something called genderbent pictures. For those that don’t know, it’s when people take someone usually a character from something and switch them to the opposite sex. A lot of the trans community have an issue with this because it kinda eradicates nonbinary people a lot. Really focuses on the binary part, y’know? says “oh now they’re the gender they’re not actually” implying only 2...it’s kinda shitty. For me, personally, it’s dysphoria inducing. It highlights features everyone associates with only each gender and I start recognising all the features on the female version that i have on me and it’s not a fun time. I’m a big boi, i can deal. But many trans people replied to him when talking about this and expressed the dysphoria they were feeling, why promoting those was harming the trans community etc. He apologised but he only apologised for calling it gender bent and not digital drag which...is not what people were saying? I appreciate him making an effort on twitter to promote trans voices, idk much about american politics, so can’t say much on what he’s doing there but at least it’s something. What would be the most awesome thing for him to do is explain what the actual things the trans community told him and promote that to discourage those pictures or to encourage them to also include non binary people in some way cause artistic expression and stuff. More recent Robert Manion controversy is the body positivity pictures. I’m 100% for body positivity, always, anyone body shaming anybody (unless they’re a racist, rapist or general bigot) is a bAD BEAN. However, now this part is gonna get a little nsfw, so if you’re a minor please don’t keep reading, i aint trying to get arrested.  i can’t figure out how to do the keep reading thing so consider this it. Minors leave.  So, onlyfans is a website where you pay for porn basically like a total boomer simp but i digress. Some pages are softcore which is like just outlines of things...like people in their underwear. Robert posted pictures of him in his underwear and tagged it porn and onlyfans. Which if a grown man wants to do sex work I won’t stop him. That’s not the case here, the case here is he posted a picture in his underwear, where his ahem bulge is visible and sexualised it with the tags. There are minors that follow this man, that may have been scrolling through instagram in school and saw oh shit a dong. “But Joey Richter took off his pants in mamd!!!” yeah and that had a ton of warnings, you knew what you were gonna watch was for mature starkids only. “WHat about Lupin!!” couldn’t see the bulge. When I was 17, I went to see a play and a girl in it started stripping right down to her underwear, was just like seeing her in a bikini. The tags sexualised it but so did the bulge outline. He censored it on his story which kinda feels like he knew it was inappropriate. Something else that makes me very uncomfortable about this all is the Body Positivity argument. Now I have gender dysphoria, I have scars, I have stretch marks, acne, I’m so SO for body positivity. I rant so often about how fatphobia shouldn’t happen because weight doesn’t equal health. I’m not saying this is what he’s doing but that argument is used by actual groomers. Like y’know the fucks that groom children? i.e. onision (allegedly) where he’d say it’s just for body positivity and get children to send him pics of them in their underwear? You see why this is a dangerous argument here? I don’t think Robert’s intention was to do that but if you indirectly tell a bunch of teenagers posting pictures in their underwear is a good thing...I can’t be the only one making this link and the fact y’all defend this as “just shirtless pictures” is lowkey driving me wild. He apologised for the tags cause it was making fun of sex workers but please please please think of the risk. Please?  Starkid mess up, they’re human, please stop acting like they do nothing wrong and please stop acting like they’re cancelled forever with no redemption okay bye PS please let me know any trigger warnings to add <3

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

Ninjago/Avatar (NinjAvatar?) au P3

What I have worked out of Koko’s backstory, and maybe an angsty awkward family reunion

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5)

So how did a nonbender from the Earth Kingdom wind up in the Southern Water Tribe you ask? Hold your ostrich horses, I’m getting there! Koko was born on Kyoshi Island (I’m not gonna try and come up with a Ninjago equivalent of Kyoshi bc she is a Queen and I love her. Probably would have realized I liked girls a lot sooner if my parents had let me watch A:TLA when it was airing tbh.) Her dad was a scholar from the Academy in Ba Sing Se (can’t remember if it had a fancy name or not) who was writing a paper on Avatar Kyoshi, and her mom was the leader of the Kyoshi’s Warriors at the time. They fell in love, got married, had Koko, and were happy for a few years!

And then they got sick and died (debated whether I wanted to give Koko two moms for a long time, but I don’t have the energy to come up with two oc’s, and I wasn’t about to bury any gays)

Koko trained with the Kyoshi Warriors for a few years (idk how old they are when they start, but lets just say young enough for Koko to become a very skilled warrior at a very young age) but she was always drawn to her fathers old text...scrolls?(pretty sure that they only have scrolls and not books in the A”TLA world. If I say books at all in this, I mean scrolls btw) fascinated by the history of the world. She wanted to be able to go to the same Academy her father did, but there was one problem: money.

So Koko set out into the world, looking for work so she could raise money and putting her training to the test. She mostly took security and guarding type work, and took every opportunity to read new scrolls and learn more about history. And then she took a job helping to take relief supplies to the Southern Water Tribe after a Fire Nation raid (that probably never happened in the show, but I Do What I Want).

Seeing what they were going through, seeing how defeated and broken the people in the Southern Water Tribe were, really shook Koko. Kyoshi’s Island had never been involved in the war, and she had always taken jobs that avoid going near any active war zones, so this was the first time she had actually seen just how bad it was. That was when she met Maya, who had just lost her mother in the latest raid. Her father had passed when she was a baby.

Koko decided that these people needed help more than she needed to go to the Academy, so she decided to put her plans on hold and asked the chief how she could help them, free of charge. She stayed in the village for a little while, helping them rebuild. Maya let Koko stay with her, and the two became close friends. When Koko learned that Maya was a waterbender, she made it a personal mission to help Maya become a great waterbender. There were no experienced waterbenders left in the tribe, and practicing was risky (they never knew if a raid was going to happen or if the Fire Nation was watching them).

Koko taught Maya how to fight like a Kyoshi Warrior, and she had read a few things about waterbending out of curiosity, so Maya has her own weird self-taught waterbending style. That may or may not become a plot point later.

Everything with Ray and Garm happens, and Koko lets go of her dreams of the Academy and settles down with her family. She frequently left the South Pole for short trips, mostly for to get different supplies to make things easier on the tribe, occasionally she finds toys or games she can bring back for the kids in the tribe to enjoy, and she’s always on the lookout for new scrolls (yes, she has found some waterbending scrolls. Like, two or three. Yes, she stole all of them. She was just returning them to where they belong after all)

I am debating on whether or not to have Lloyd find his animal companion bc one of the cool things that Koko brought back was a dragon egg. She didn’t know it was a real dragon egg when she found it. It hatched when Lloyd touched it, and the baby dragon immediately bonded with Lloyd (yes, it’s Ultra). I might might come up with a different way Lloyd and Ultra meet, but I like having it be fairly early on in Lloyd’s life bc its cute and having a flying companion animal early on makes it so much easier to keep things consistent with the plot beats I wanna hit from both shows. Maya waterbends a series of hidden tunnels in the snow for Ultra to hide in whenever the Fire Nation shows up. (the whole tribe knows about Ultra and love him, as long as he keeps his fire breathing under control) 

When she and Garm figured out that Lloyd is the Avatar, (after they stopped panicking of course) they decided not to try and keep it from Lloyd until he was older (preferably not until he was like, 15 or 16). They told Ray and Maya and the chief so that way they had some people to lean on and help cover for Lloyd and keep his secret, and keep him from bending anything but water (didn’t stop him from messing with airbending in secret. He was never told about the Avatar, so he doesn’t make the connection. He just thinks its cool as heck, and then he and Kai and Nya each had their own element to use!). After a lot of discussion and worrying, Koko set out to try and learn everything she could about the Avatar.

And now back to the confrontation at the South Pole! Lloyd and Nya get back from setting off the flare (Nya wanted to see if she could find something in the ship to re-purpose and use in the village, and Lloyd was bored so he tagged along) and run right into an angry Maya and Garm. The kids are saved from a scolding however by a rapidly approaching Fire Nation ship. There isn’t enough time to get into one of the tunnels with Ultra, so Garm drags Lloyd and Nya (who’s covered in oil from the old ship) over to the wall away from where the ship is coming in and Maya waterbends them a little hidden room to hide in. (There is a peephole thing for them to see whats happening.)

The Fire Nation ship makes its dramatic entrance, destroying the wall and all that. Kai tries to charge Morro with a spear, but Maya catches him and holds him back before taking the lead in talking to Morro. Don’t ask me why Sorrla, the chief, doesn’t do it. Wu is there, but he’s just hanging out in the background a bit. Garm doesn’t notice his brother, partly bc he’s too far away, partly bc he’s focused on Maya, Kai, and Morro. Morro ends up saying that he’s in search of the Avatar, but decided to check out the Southern Water Tribe when he saw the flare.

Maya is internally panicking bc ‘this can’t be a coincidence, he must know something somehow’ but plays it cool. Kai wonders outloud what the Avatar is, which made Morro a bit suspicious bc how could someone not have heard the stories of the Avatar, and decides to threaten to burn the village down to see if Maya was bluffing about not knowing anything. Maya starts internally panicking more, bc burning down the village will not only, y’know, burn down the village, but it could very well reveal not only the Avatar, but his father, the ‘dead’ Fire Nation Prince as well. So Maya makes a tough choice.

When the firebenders in the crew get ready to burn the village down, (and Wu tries to covertly get Morro to, y’know, not burn the village down) Maya uses her waterbending to douse the guards flames, before turning herself over in trade for leaving the rest of her tribe alone. Garm has to hold Nya back, and another water tribe boy named Lar grabs Kai to hold him back as Maya is brought onto the ship in chains. As soon as the ship is far enough away, and they’re no longer being held back, Kai and Nya are pissed. They both yell at Garm for letting their mother get taken by the Fire Nation bc no-one comes back from the Fire Nation, until Garm tells them ‘we’re going to rescue her, and then we’re going to have an important conversation. Lloyd get your dragon.’

So a rescue scene happens. Maya gets free on the ship thanks to her training from Koko (and Garm and Ray taught the both of them about Fire Nation combat training), and then Kai, Nya, Lloyd, and Garm show up on Ultra. Lloyd and Nya both use their limited knowledge of waterbending to fight. Garm keeps his face covered and his hood up to hide his identity, and doesn’t use his firebending at all when they’re fighting on the ship. Kai doesn’t use his firebending either, but he does end up punching Morro if the face. Garm gets distracted and almost takes a nasty hit when he finally recognizes Wu, who’s mostly hanging back from the fight, and only stepping in to deflect something coming his way, or to subtly help Morro.

They get on Ultra and start to fly away, but Lloyd airbends to shatter a glacier to help cover them and deflect some projectiles coming at them, revealing that yes, he is the Avatar, and uncovering Garms face on accident. So now Wu knows that his brother is alive and is with the Avatar, who is a thirteen-year-old child.

As they fly off on Ultra, Garm and Maya tell the kids everything. They already knew that Ray was from the Fire Nation (when Kai started firebending they told the kids just enough to satisfy their curiosity and confusion), but now they tell them about how Ray and Garm wound up in the South Pole, why Koko’s been gone so long, and why they waited so long to tell them any of this. The kids are stunned, mb a little mad at first but they understand why these secrets had to be kept for so long, and Lloyd is scared. He just got blind-sided by a huge destiny and burden, and it’s terrifying.

After the talk, they set a course towards the North Pole. Even though Maya can teach Lloyd her own style of waterbending, she thinks it might be a good idea to have the Avatar learn some traditional waterbending, and the Northern Water Tribe is much more fortified and would be the safest place for him to learn, regardless of who teaches him. And so the journey begins...

[action]

#BlackExcellence365 Artist Spotlight: Asaph Luccas

We’re back with another #BlackExcellence365 Artist Spotlight! Meet Asaph Luccas (@asaphluccas), a Black Brazilian portraiture artist who has been uploading his art to Tumblr since 2012 (!). We got to talk to him a bit about his career trajectory and Negritudes Brasileiras, his documentary about colorism in Brazil. Read on below.

Your art focuses on highlighting dark-skinned women and men in São Paulo. How important is it for you to highlight the Black diaspora as an artist?

Actually, I try to portray a lot of the diversity of blackness. I mean, not only in shades but in shapes, sexual orientation, hair, style…I love drawing people and with time I saw how powerful art can be so I started adding more and more variety of people in what I do. My art helps me to understand and be proud of who I am and by that, I hope it catches on the people seeing it.

Tell us a little bit about yourself and how you came to be an artist and filmmaker? How has Tumblr been a place for you to find your voice? 

I'm Asaph, a 24 years old Brazilian multidisciplinary artist. At heart I am a visual creator, painting what I live through my lens. It's really awesome to answer that question because I started posting my art on Tumblr when I was 17! Tumblr had a huge influence on my trajectory as an artist because it was the place where I connected my art with other people. You can actually see all my growing as an artist and as a person of color scrolling through my archive. First, I used to draw mostly white characters. I created what people made me believe was the "art beauty" and that came with years and years of self-loathing and trying to fit into white standards. It only started to change when I connected with my roots and started studying more about racism in Brazil. You see, we are more than 54% of the population but when you turn on the TV there are no black TV hosts, no black protagonists in the telenovelas. So I stopped trying to portray something that I'm not, something that doesn't represent the reality of the place I live,.

What communities do you identify with both online and IRL? 

I'm black, a really femme gay boy and I lived almost my whole life on the Brazilian periphery. This holds such an important part of who I am. Most of my friends are also black and part of the LGBT community and we started a film collective named Gleba do Pêssego and get to create films together talking about marginalized identities that usually we don't see being represented here. We as queer individuals get the opportunity to create our own families and also create our own references, so my support system is basically friends and other Brazilian artists doing great things right now, such as Edu Reis, Oliv Barros, and Ione Maria.

How did you come up with your featured piece and how might this relate to the broader conversation surrounding the #BlackExcellence365 campaign? 

I started my Black I-d series because I didn't have [any] other illustrators to look up to and inspire me to draw black characters when I started. I wanted to inspire younger artists (including myself) to know that drawing black people is beautiful and YES, we can be artists! As a light-skinned black person living in Brazil, a country where most mixed people spend a lot of their lives trying to pass as white and where there's almost no representation of the variety of the black experience, I had to find a way to say "hey, there isn't one way of being black, we came in a lot of shades, shapes, colors, and souls and we need to be represented!" and I'm so happy that I got to inspire people with it.

Your documentary Negritudes Brasileiras examines the conversation around racial identity and colorism in Brazil. Why was that documentary important for you to create?

In our journey we make films bringing light to marginalized identities and this year we got to make a documentary with Nátaly Neri, one of the biggest voices in the young black community right now, about racial identification since Brazil is such a racially mixed country. I got to say everything that my paintings couldn't, exploring my art in many ways, and I'm proud of what this represents.

What are some of the challenges you face as an artist and a filmmaker? 

Support. Definitely support. Emotionally because when you grew up poor you're not allowed to dream about being an artist, about being a filmmaker. Education in those areas is so expensive that must of us can't afford it and we have to teach ourselves how to do everything. By not being part of the academy, a lot of times people don't see us as real creators. Financially because I have to work on other things to provide for myself because it's so hard to live as an artist/filmmaker here and that means I don't have the time to invest as many other artists have.

Thanks for chatting with us, @asaphluccas!

Tumblr artists, what kind of challenges have you faced when making your art? Can you relate to Asaph? Make a post, tag it #BlackExcellence365, and share it with the community.

[i-ran-away-without-a-map]

I took a quick scroll through the gender critical tag and I'm really just... laughing right now. Like, I can't do anything else. The reason why is, well:

It can be perfectly summarised by this screenshot I took of a random person's tags.

I just don't get why they're so desperate to shut us up and harass us. They do it in such a vile, manipulative way too. If I didn't know better, I would genuinely empathise with some of them based on the way they spin their narrative to make them seem like the victims.

I do know better. And I also had much practice with learning the language of abusers, which is what most of them sound like. But other women and girls, other gay or lesbian people don't know better.

To quote Magdalen Berns on this, because she put it bluntly and very well: it's insidious. Their lies sound better than any of us providing evidence of how they're wrong.

And it fucking breaks my heart. Because I know people irl, in a country as repressed and homophobic as mine, who are buying into this crap. I know girls younger than me who call themselves "trans boys" and seem so happy with their illusion that they've somehow escaped the patriarchy. I also know young men who go around saying they're "transwomen" to whoever listens, not to alleviate internationalised homophobia or any kind of negativity about being GNC, but to constantly harass women and girls about hanging out with them or going out with them for some "girl time", to bain young girls into seeing them as a safe person to talk to "because they're women too so they know how it feels". All that in a country that can still attack two people of the same sex in the middle of the street in full daylight for the crime of holding hands with little repercussions.

[xueyangapologist]

oh here’s the Good Omens fic rec i conned two people into asking me for so i could feel like the absurd amount of fic reading i do is useful somehow. sectioned off by how i think about them in mine own brain.

there’s a section for fics written pre-show but i haven’t separated all of them. i’ve also included warnings where i thought it was necessary but mostly i’m trusting that everyone knows how to check ratings and tags.

section: favourites

A Backwards Proposal

But then, suddenly, the sun would shine on the angel’s hair, or a certain smell would remind Crowley of this or that sunset in Rome with a flagon of wine, or maybe they would just look each other in the eye, and Crowley’s chest would constrict, and he would wish he could die young like a tragic romantic poet or a young woman who had happened to be caught in a rainstorm once, and whose delicate condition just wouldn’t let her live.

After

After all that, after the apocalypse that wasn’t, after everything, could Crowley stutter through saying anything other than best friend? What was the point, when Aziraphale would never respond in kind?

The Temptation of Aziraphale, or How to Lose a Flaming Sword Without Really Trying

He was Here. The Source of his Agony. And surely something was really dotty in his head because he was starting to think in all capitals.

Different (and its sequels)

“Do you like me?” he wanted to ask. “No, I know you don’t like me, at least, I don’t think you do, except that maybe— But everybody likes me, why don’t you like me? What should I do differently? D’you ever feel, Aziraphale, like you’re one of the only guys around that really gets what this whole love thing is about? Everybody talks about it so bluntly, but surely there’s feeling in it, right? You have feelings, like I do? My feelings, do they sound real to you? Because I don’t know if they are.”

crowley/aziraphale is happening, just in the background at first, don’t worry. i need someone else to read this with me so desperately

the rest is under a read more because it got Too Bloody Long

section: toothrot

An Artless Proposal

“Every dame appreciates a ring.”

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

"Oh yeah," said Crowley quickly. "Loads. All the time." 

some new beginning

The back rooms and the first-floor bedroom were cluttered with vases, and the green bastards seemed to like it better here than they had at Crowley’s flat. He didn’t count a single wilted leaf between the lot of them. Traitors.

section: halfway between the above and below sections, or: big dumb demon has praise kink make me cry

The One in Which Crowley Discovers Wanking

“Oh! They’re still doing the rumpty-tumpty wrong!”

section: are we still calling it pwp?

Really Weird Things

Blow jobs were often the easiest way to fulfill his Lust quota and had the effect of causing huge political scandals when Crowley got caught hard at work, which, considering that the results were very funny, was quite often.

based on a quote from the book, which makes this one terry and neil’s fault

section: sort of has a plot

An Invitation To Ruin

"That's fucking weird, that is," Crowley muttered, then cleared his throat and repeated in a more angelic voice, "My goodness, this is ever so odd." 

technically a sequel to I Got You To Help Me Forgive, which is good, but i like this one slightly better

you smiled (and it broke my heart)

It was quite some time later, after Crowley realised he was somewhere along the A82 in Scotland and still not feeling any better, that he decided he did not want to clear his head of Aziraphale anyway.

section: actually has a plot

Mirror, Mirror

The angel of the Western Gate’s wings rustled behind her as she turned her gaze from the sunset on the still-clear horizon to the serpent behind her.

canon universe collides with a universe where crawly talked to the wrong angel. only explaining that because I thought at first it would be set entirely in the alternate universe, and that made me so sad I nearly didn’t read it.

section: in the beginning there were only 12 good fics in this fandom and i’ve read all of them

Heaven Has No Taste

"It is not given to us to know the Ineffable Plan," the Metatron sing-songed.

please note that a homophobic slur is used in this one and it kinda comes out of nowhere

Strange Flesh and All That

“I always imagined that kind of talk would get you sort all manner of flustered.”

Aziraphale smirks. “Doesn’t sound like there’s much to get flustered over.”

TwoFish

It wasn't so much a kiss. It was lips finding their proper places.

also has a homophobic slur! what is it with these early fics! very very sweet fic though

Will You Do The Fandango

“I’ll thank you kindly to get out,” Aziraphale said, and he’d changed into his smiting clothes and all.

section: it’s about the YEARNING

and, so on

“Are you content?” Aziraphale asks.

“No,” Crowley says immediately. “I never will be.”

Things That Will Never Happen

"No. I mean I want to bring you back to my flat. I have a king-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets. I want to pull you under the covers and hold you as tight as demonically possible. I want to fall asleep in your arms." 

considered making a section just for this one titled “MORON4MORON”

section: yeah we gay keep scrolling

You Bloody Snake

Hastur dug his fingers deep in Ligur’s ashes and thought, I promise. 

Best Not To Mention It

As Ligur recalled, Crowley went in for time-wasting annoyances on a large scale. Or at least that's how Hastur had explained it.

section: i just think they (lesbians) are neat!

help me to say

In 456BC Crowley patted Aziraphale on the hand after a long airborne fight over Crete and Aziraphale still lay awake some nights wondering what it all meant.

parable of shepherds

‘But the apple just keeps being there,’ Aziraphale mutters contemplatively. ‘Doesn’t it.’ 

radiation?!

“A what?” Anathema asked suspiciously.

“A killer queen,” the demon said with a perfectly straight face. “Gunpowder, gelatin. Dynamite with a laser beam.”

your apple-eating heathen

“Try doing me the service of thinking with your brain, instead of whatever claptrap people are saying about me this century.”

section: a tiny bit meta

What Would God Say

 “It’s like the way it is when you stare out into the ocean,” Aziraphale said. “When you’re a little drunk, you know, and you suddenly feel very…tiny?”

we follow our own steps (while our shadows keep watching us)

Anathema may have been more than a little bit psychic but she was only human, really. She’d already settled comfortably into middle age, and soon she’d slip into old age and one day she would die, and Crowley would have to remember what she’d done about advice before befriending her. Most of the time, that was okay.

i put this here but it also has lesbians!!!! neat!!!!!

[vincent-frankenstein]

Ghost Hunter AU

“yea boy im doing one of these bullet point outline things bc i dont have time to ever write this but im not letting this idea go to waste //dabs

sorta inspired by bfu bc i just started watching that yea boyyyy

this is such a mess im sorry

so lets set the context 

virgil and logan are both youtubers. virgil runs a paranormal channel, talking about different conspiracies and ghost stories and whatever; logan specializes in educational videos, specifcally history

and they watch each other’s channels and dont have a crush on each other what no

but then one day, their topics coincide

logan’s doing a video talking about the gruesome history of some old prison, and virgil’s doing a video on the ghostly legends that surround the place

they collab, and their viewers love it. they work really well together too; virgil’s spooky humor and logan’s skepticism mesh together and the fans adore them. it’s educational, it’s terrifying, and it’s fun. 

“hey, maybe we could collab more often?” Virgil asks when they go out for coffee after filming. “If... if you want.”

Logan does want

they make a joint channel not a week later

and thus begins their ghost hunting career

break here bc damn this got long shdfklhsdfk

virgil provides the terrifying ghost stories. logan provides the history. together, armed with their knowledge and their trust in each other, they conquer some of the most haunted spots in the world

including goatman’s bridge ofc

the video of logan yelling “FUCK YOU GOATMAN” goes viral within a few hours

“i cant believe you achieved meme status before i did,” virgil remarks, scrolling through their tag. “unfair.”

logan hastily pulls out his vocab cards. “uh — ah — then perish?” he says, and virgil laughs himself breathless

but then, they decide to investigate the legend of an old, abandoned house

it’s said that the house is haunted by an evil demon, who lures people inside and kills them in horrible, cruel ways. no one who sets foot in the house ever returns

so, naturaly, Logan and Virgil are going to spent the night.

they set up in the living room with sleeping bags and an ouija board and a spirit box and set to work

“Are there any demons in this house?” Virgil asks, ignoring Logan’s skeptical laughter. “Hello?”

The spirit box crackles and shrieks

and then

“L̪͈EÁ͂̌̾͐̃V̼͂È̲̱̟̔̑”

the clearest voice they’ve ever heard. even logan is shaken, eyes wide as he glances around the room. 

but the voice didnt sound angry, or evil, or cruel

it sounds scared

“GE̙͚̩͉T̺̯͔̲̟̍̈́̈ͤ͐ ̓ͤ̓̋O͖̳͔͕̺͚̯ͯ̃́̏ͬͩ̑UṬ̹̬͇͔̆̔ͨ͛̓” it screams. “GE̙͚̩͉T̺̯͔̲̟̍̈́̈ͤ͐ ̓ͤ̓̋O͖̳͔͕̺͚̯ͯ̃́̏ͬͩ̑UṬ̹̬͇͔̆̔ͨ͛̓ P͖̪̭͉̘̄͒͆ͮͬLE͚͎A̤͚̙͚̯̻͕ͯ̾ͦ̃ͯͮ̐SE”

virgil nearly drops the spirit box, his hands are shaking so badly. the room has grown so cold that their breath fogs in front of their faces. even logan has nothing to say.

they barely have time to share a glance before two men appear

one stands in the shadows, dressed all in black, his cloak billowing around him, one eye seeming to glow bright, poisonous yellow

the other has ashen skin and furiously beaming red eyes, hidden behind shattered glasses. his clawed fingers are curled into fists; his pastel-blue outfit stained with rusted red. one horn curls into a sharp point; the other is cracked off at the stump.

“i̻̘̽̂̏ͅ ̻͎̟̖t̞̞̅̍r̫̬̝̈́̂̏ȋ̥͎̰̟̲̠̯̉̋͆́̍ͥe̫͈̘͈̭͉ͩ͑̆̈́̐̾d ̣̥tô͚͓̤̥͐͌͛ ̄ͩͯ̑waṛ͑n̐̍͂ͦ ̞̹̣yͨ̔ͪͥͯou̟̻” he whispers, garbled

and in the split second before he lunges, Virgil spots tears in his eyes

they just barely escape with their lives. their gear is gone, left back in the house, and their lives are changed forever.

“well,” virgil says, breathless and terrifed. “you can’t be skeptical anymore.”

“shut up,” logan says. 

the logical thing would be to stay away from the house. logan says as much, at least three times. but virgil can’t stop thinking about the way the demon had tried to warn them, had pleaded with them to leave

there’s more to this story, he knows it. he wont let this one stay unsolved

so they dig through the town’s history, find records of the house’s owners, search and search and search until finally

Dolos Morel. the last known owner of the house. though he lived hundreds of years ago, there are no records of his death. he was imprisoned young, sentenced to death, but he vanished the day before he was set to die. 

he’s yet another unsolved mystery. virgil’s so used to those, he almost passes it by

but one thing stands out, one thing that makes virgil sure he’s the guy

he was born with one yellow eye

“this is him,” he says, slamming the records down on logan’s makeshift desk in their hotel room. logan scans the papers and nods, eyebrows furrowed

“why do you care so much?” logan asked, though he has to admit, he’s become invested in this as well

virgil doesnt answer

tears pooling in crimson eyes flash through his mind

finally, he meets logan’s eyes. “too many people have gotten hurt because of him,” he says. “i mean — shit, logan, we’ve got a real demon and some sort of immortal asshole on our hands. we should at least try to get to the bottom of it. isn’t that what we do?”

virgil doesn’t know where this heroic streak has come from. logan isnt sure what to think of it

hes not blushing shut up

but he and virgil have been partners for years. he’d follow him anywhere.

and so, armed with as much knowledge on exorcism and demonic protection as possible, and as many lucky charms and bottles of holy water as virgil can carry, the two set off to solve the mystery

they sit in the dusty living room, side by side on the floor. virgil turns on the spirit box and takes logan’s hand instinctively, and logan’s too busy watching the box to notice

“Why are you here, demon?” Virgil asks, getting straight (gay) to the point. “Are you Dolos Morel?”

“n̟̮̆ͦ,̯̫̖̦̼͚ͫ͐̋̊ͧ̄ ̝no̙” the box whispers through a cacophany of static

“Is Dolos Morel in this house?” Logan asks, more serious than Virgil has ever seen him on a hunt before. 

the voice hesitates

then: “yes̰“

virgil and logan share a look. virgil opens his mouth to ask more questions, but then

“ÿ͍͈ͣou͎̱͔͎̫̥̻ͤ͐̈́͐̔͂̚ ͖̭͙͙ͅh̤̠͔̜̲̙ͬ́ͧ̒̍̚aͨ̔̊͌ve̜̮͖͔̅͊ͭ̽ ̞͎̼͖̬̼̅ͦͦͨ̑ͪͮͅto ́̑̈ͫ̆͑le̳̹͛̈a̞̥͕͈̪̙̞v͖̇e̳͈͔ ͍͇̝̯̟̌̓̊̋̂y̜̍ou̺̱̪̼̟ ͉͇̹̼̗̭͕h͚a͐V̥̮̤͇̫̤E͓̹̥ͯ̓̈́̚ͅ ̟̔T̫̻̃͛O͖̫̞̰ ̂ͩ͆ͥ̈́L̬̳̞͔͇̪̲̊̔̎̽̄́̔E̲̩AVE͍̩̦̜͎ͩ̓͋̍̈́͐ͅ ̞̘̫N̿̋̉ͤ̽͋̆O̺͊W”

he wants to leave, his legs are about to give out, but the fear in the demons voice roots him to his spot.

“No!” he yells. “We’re not leaving.”

the spirit box goes silent. no crackling, no static; it’s like they turned it off

the air grows deathly still

“very well,” says a new voice, clear as day through the spirit box. “enjoy your stay.”

the world shifts and hisses and crackles and then goes dark.

when virgil wakes up, he’s in a dark room. his hands have been bound. he struggles and yells and screams for logan, and his stomach drops in terror when there’s no response. 

“you can’t get out,” says the first voice they’d heard in the spirit box. it’s more subdued, a whisper. “there’s no escape.”

“fuck that,” virgil growls, never once stopping straining against his bonds. “tell me what the hell is going on. where is logan?”

he doesn’t know where this bravery is coming from, red-hot and acidic as he snaps at the demon he knows is waiting just outside. maybe he knows he’ll die anyway, whether he’s polite or rude as all hell

“i-i can’t, kiddo,” the demon says. 

virgil hears remorse in his tone, maybe, and clings to it as his only hope.

“we came to help you,” he says. “but i need to know what’s going on. are you working with dolos?”

the demon falls silent. for a moment, virgil grows disappointed

but then the door opens and the demon stumbles in, his own clawed hands pressed tightly over his mouth

he meets virgil’s eyes, and shakes his head. no.

virgil remembers another unsolved legend he studied a while back: a man who would summon demons to trap them in agreements, getting himself eternal life, eternal power, and eternal fame in the process

“you’re trapped with him,” he guesses, and the demon jerks his head in a shaky nod. 

he cant feel good about being right for long

a loud yell pierces the air and virgil’s lungs forget how to work. “let me out,” he hisses, as his mind screams logan’s name. “you have to let me out now.”

“I-I can’t!” the demon cries, tearing his hands away from his mouth. “Dolos forbade it, I can only attack —”

“Then attack,” virgil says without hesitation. he plants his feet firmly on the ground and says it again, tensing beneath his bonds

the demon lunges — virgil spins — and the demon’s claws slice right through the thick fabric tying him to the chair. they sliced through his shirt, too, and his back aches, but he doesnt have time to dwell on that. 

he’s gotta save the man he loves

Logan stands across the room from Dolos Morel, among a minefield of broken chair bits. his face stings where dolos slapped him, and theres no chance of escape

but he’s smart. he’s cunning. he’s already gotten some of Dolos’ backstory and only confirmed what he already suspected

he hears a crash in a room down the hall and knows

he is not going to die here

virgil bursts down the door, brandishing a water gun like a deadly weapon, and soaks Dolos with a loud warcry

“Eat holy water, you shit!”

Dolos splutters. “I’m human, you fool. Holy water cannot harm me.”

“no,” logan says. “but this can.”

and he grabs Dolos and punches him directly in the face

logan shakes out his hand with a wince as dolos collapses to the floor and virgil becomes Too Gay To Function

and the demon steps forward and kneels beside his master, placing his hand on the weird symbol on the man’s left wrist. 

Dolos wakes with a start as the demon grabs his hand. logan and virgil stand watch as red light fills the space between them

“s̺̱̆͑ͨͅa͍̣͌̾y i̒ͧ͌t̜͕ͧ̓” the demon whispers

dolos’ fight drains and he slumps against the wall, his glowing eye fading to dull brown

“I release you” he whispers, and crumbles to dust.

the demon stumbles away from the pile of dust. he sobs once, then twice, and then doubles over, trembling, his eyes overflowing with tears

logan laces his fingers through virgil’s as he straightens up

“Thank you,” he says hoarsely. “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“my name is patton,” he says when he’s stopped sobbing, “and i owe you my life.”

BONUS:

so now virge n lo have a Demon Friend and theyve p much proved the existence of the supernatural, but they dont want to stop making videos

still, it’s a few weeks before either of them brings up the notion of finding another haunted place to investigate

but virgil cant stay away from the supernatural for long

“I found our next stop,” he says, shoving his phone into logan’s hands. “A theater mysteriously burned down there like, 60 years ago. they say the spot is haunted by the spirit of the man who died in the fire.”

logan scrolls through the article, and nods. “it looks interesting,” he says, and returns virgil’s smile.

“let’s go find this Roman Kingsley.”

i might make a second post abt roman if yall are interested owo

[acrcsstheuniversee]

Good Enough For Me

Pairing: Paul McCartney circa 1962 x John Lennon circa 1978 (McLennon)

Rating: Mature, readers 18+

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of porn and sex work

Words in this chapter: 1800+

Author’s Note:

Here it is! Refer to my summary and introduction post if you haven’t done so for more disclaimers, visuals, tag list info, and more.

*Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles. This is fiction and written for leisure. Aspects of the story will not be historically accurate and should not be taken extremely seriously.

Chapter 1

Already a month into the semester, Paul found himself struggling to keep up with his studies. He tried his best to focus on typing an essay on the history of guitars that’s due the next day by 10 a.m. but just couldn’t get himself to do it. Not like it was hard or anything; he just hated doing what he’s told, especially if it was something he didn’t care about. He just wanted to do music but having a degree is a necessity now.

He pressed the home button on his cracked phone screen to see that it was already midnight. He was only half way done with the assignment that could’ve taken him only 30 minutes if he wasn’t writing songs in between paragraphs.

It was all too much anyways. American universities have much more homework assignments than back in England. Times like these made him question whether or not going out of the country for school was worth it. There almost seemed like there were more cons than pros in his decision. He lacked resources, he didn’t have any friends or family here except his roommate/best friend George, he was poorer than ever, and must work and attend school part-time. If he stayed in Liverpool and just continued school locally, he probably would’ve earned his degree by now; but now he’s what Americans consider a “super senior” because he’s 21 years old with the amount of classes completed equivalent to a third year student. Despite the struggle, all of it was better than his father dictating his every move. 

He shut his laptop, giving up on the assignment and leaned back into his desk chair, rubbing his tired droopy eyes.

He had two classes and work tomorrow. The thought of them made him roll his eyes. Music history from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m., a business class he couldn’t remember the name of from 1 p.m. to 2 p.m., and work right after at a restaurant nearby as a dishwasher, and occasionally performer if the artist they booked cancelled that night.

He yawned as he got up and slide into his bed. Before shutting his eyes, he turned his head and looked directly across the tiny dorm room to his right to see his childhood best friend and roommate, George Harrison sound asleep.

Paul really needs to take a note out of George’s book and sleep earlier. These late nights are just stressing him out more and more.

***

“Paul….. PAUL! Get up!”

Paul jolted up right when a sudden raised voice rang in his ear. His eyes met George’s signature judgemental look. One of his thick brows cocked and his lips curved awkwardly. He was already ready to go to class.

“Ah, what time is it?”

“9:30. I woke you up 30 minutes before hand because I just know you aren’t going to get up to the 9:45 alarm unless you expect to make it to your first class in 15 minutes,” George teased.

George is a pain in the ass and a know-it-all, but Paul loved him dearly. He comes off mean sometimes but Paul knows it’s just because he’s younger and feels the need to prove himself. Paul was used to it after all this time but sometimes, that boy needs to know when his criticisms cross the line. Despite being a dick sometimes, they’re both grateful to be going to the same college together. It was one in a million chances for George to land the same US college as Paul just a year after Paul’s acceptance.

“Okay, whatever. You have a point, I guess.” Paul groaned and rolled out of bed. 

“I know I do, ha. I’ll see you later.” George messed up his friend’s darkhair more than it already was, making Paul swat his hand away.

When George left, Paul finally got ready and headed off to class with his incomplete essay.

Everyone was already seated and the professor was setting up today’s powerpoint lecture when he finally arrived. Paul sat down in the back where he’s been since the beginning of the semester. It hasn’t been a problem until a girl started to sit near him everyday since last week. When group or partnered work was assigned, she would often ask him to join her. She was kind, but Paul knew she liked him. She couldn’t make it less obvious. They would make small talk here and there---just about classes and hobbies. She was also very good at piano just as Paul was, but not too good on guitar though she claims to be.

He felt her looking at him, making him turn his head to find out he was right. She just smiled and waved. Paul nodded and gave her a small smile in return, trying not to show too much emotion, afraid she would like that too much. She already had the wrong idea but he didn’t want to be mean about it. Paul was not interested in the slightest and, he was gay. Found that out in high school and hasn’t been too shy about it since then. 

When class ended, Paul left immediately to his second class to avoid conversation with anyone. This next one was business related which is something he also could care less about. He was a bit behind in this one too, but this time, he truly didn’t understand the material. He definitely needed a tutor soon.

Not much happened other than him writing mini poems all over his in-class assignment. He didn’t even bother erasing any of it before turning it in at the end of class.

Paul sighed as he made himself to his busboy job right off campus. Before stepping inside, he felt his phone vibrate. It was his dad. Ugh, he thought but answered.

“I’m about to go into work, Dad. What is it?”

“Well, hello to you too. I was just wondering how the first month in the states have been. I haven’t heard from you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine? Have you got a chance to tour places? You should send me photos.”

“No and no. I don’t want you to be sending the pictures to your friends as if you helped me get here. I know you do that.”

Paul heard his father sigh.

“Just text me when you get home and tell George I said hi.”

“Okay, bye.” Paul said before hanging up and walking into his shift.

It seemed harsh but his dad was a selfish prick. He loves to be in control of everything. He was the reason Paul came to the states to study. All he wanted was to ride the wave of success his two sons have been achieving.

In all truthfulness, Paul stopped believing his dad’s bullshit after mom died about 6 years ago. His dad seemed to have lost his way but Paul couldn’t be around all the time if he had a dream to follow. It’s been rough without his mom around but Paul had to do what he was right for him, even if that meant getting away from his dad which is something even she would’ve supported.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how irritating school and his dad were during his shift. The rude coworkers and customers didn’t help his case at all. This wasn’t new though. Paul was used to working constantly in some shape or form. The only problem this time is that he needed more money now that he’s completely independent from his father.

“Hey, busboy!” his boss called out to the dishroom from the back office. Paul rolled his eyes and went to see what he wanted.

“Yes?”

“I have to cut your hours in half. Here is your new schedule. You’re off now, so don’t wash another dish.”

“In half?” Paul took the schedule and saw that his income now would not suffice his monthly tuition payments, let alone some money for necessities. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Why?”

“We can’t afford to pay you. I’m sorry, kid.” he said nonchalantly.

“Will I be able to perform sometimes still?”

“Ehh, sure.” he said as he continued his paperwork, not even looking at Paul.

Paul rolled his eyes again. Could his life get any more annoying? He let out a sigh and clocked out. Now what, he thought making his way home.

When he got home George was playing his computer games with his big headphones to fit on his large ears. The younger man didn’t even notice his friend come in until one side of his headphones was pulled and slapped against his head.

“Hey!” George readjusted himself then paused his game to face Paul with his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“My hours got slashed.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, hah.”

George frowned.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you going to find another job?” 

“Well, I’m going to have to because I will not be asking my dad for help.” Paul said as changed into his pajamas and hopped onto his bed.

George sighed. Paul just stared at his friend for a moment, not knowing what to say. This was bad news for both of them. George didn’t have the same financial issues as Paul did. He only had enough for himself. If George could help, he would---and Paul knew he would.

“I’ll think of something, George. Don’t worry.” Paul got under the covers and listened to his friend shut off his computer and lights before hopping into bed as well.

He stared at the ceiling and sighed, then began to think about all the ways he can make money quickly but none of it would be fast enough to pay his next tuition bill. He rubbed his eyes. It was beginning to stress him out the more he thought of it and he just wanted it to all stop for a second.

Ah fuck it, he thought before whipping out his phone and started to scroll through his favorite porn blog on Tumblr. What better way to forget about things than looking at some sexy pictures of guys?

Paul scrolled until he ran into a post that was by a male sex worker selling nude photos and thought hard to himself. It was a young guy about his age selling his photos for $25 a piece and a private snapchat story for $5 per friend request and $15 extra for screenshot privileges.

Paul bit his lip nervously. It’s been a couple years since he did sex work. All he did was some cam work, sold some nude photos, and made customized videos for people on the internet. He remembered enjoying it but there was always the parts he hated that made the job extremely draining like any other job.

He laid there staring at the screen. He must admit, it was tempting to dive in again but he was afraid what George would think.

“George… Maybe I should go back into sex work…” Paul said suddenly.

George didn’t reply. He just snored in in response. That bastard.

Paul sighed and continued to scroll through sex work blogs, inspired by the possibilities until he slowly drifted to sleep.

-

Tag list:

@nowandthenoldfriend

[yoshimickster]

RWBY Volume 6 Episode 7 “The Grimm Reaper” MicksteRecap-BEHOLD THE NICE BACKGROUNDS!

Hey everybody, last night’s Christmas party was a DOOZY, sorry I’m late-TIME FOR THE MICKSTERECAP!

IT STARTS OFF-

-THE SANCTUARY of the spring relic...which...Salem can just enter any time she wants apparently! Man, maiden powers AND a secret hideout, that’s awesome!

Hell, she can even invite FRIENDS inside! Just get some chairs, a TV and surround sound, you’ll have a chill pad!

Either way Cinder gives Neo the low-down about how Salem ordered Cinder to take Ruby alive NOT dead-ALL WHILE-

2:58 ...she...plays with her knife, like a total creep! I ain’t judging, we all gotta stim from time to time.

Anyway, Cinder tells Neo that while she can’t kill Ruby, NEO hasn’t taken ANYONE’S orders, and then the two become best murder friends forever!

Because we ALL KNOW how well the LAST time Cinder made a deal with a recurring antagonist...also holy crap Neo’s tiny, she’s like a murderous Felicity Smoak!

A THEN CUT TO-

3:38 THE BRIDGE FROM EVERY SAMURAI STORY! Don’t lie, you got Samurai Jack flashbacks to. It is HERE WE SEE-

-absoLUTE cosplay bait! LOOK AT THAT-its glorious!

And you just KNOW what’s comin’ next folks-

4:20 ONE ON ONE MONSTER FIGHT BITCHES!

Maria starts out with a bridge back-flip-

THEN-does a gun-scythe-kama toss-

-AND LANDS THAT SHIT IN THE SHOULDER-but wait-THERE’S MORE!

SHE FLICKS THE PURPLE SWITCH-oh Mauvisto we fear your dark power-WHICH TURNS OUT TO BE-

-MAGNETIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC SCYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYTHES-bitch! Most likely due to gravity dust! She then uses it to FLOAT HER ASS up to the bird!

“I’M MARY POPPINS Y’ALL!”

She SPINS IN for a shoulder strike-

AND LANDS-in the shoulder! Lot of shoulder strikes with this bird.

She then steers it through the anime mountains-

THROWS-one of her kamas-IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AIR-

-creating what LOOKS like a fixed point of gravity-

-PULLS back her weapons forcing the bird into a quick-stop turn, STEERING THAT FUCKER-

-RIGHT INTO A MOUNTAIN! FUCK YES-pro Huntresses rule! She also LANDS that bitch-

-RIGHT INTO A DITCH! RHYMING!

She then pulls one of her kmas out and everything is fine-OR IS IT?!

Nevermore: Hey.

Maria: Oh...hey.

Nevermore: Whatcha doin?

Maria: OH-I was just going to leave.

Nevermore: That’s nice, but how about I eat you instead?

Maria tries zigging and zagging-BUT-

4:56 It knocks both her weapon-

AS WELL AS HER! She’s only got ONE OPTION-

VAGUELY EXPLAINED MAGICAL SUPERPOWER GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

5:09 DAMN-petrified and then crumpled in MID-air!

After that kerfuffle, Maria than just goes on her merry way-

Tock: SURPRISE BITCH-I’m a crocodile!

We are then treated to one of the shortest...and MOST epic action exchanges of ALL time! Which starts out with THIS-

Maria: I don’t think you know who I am.

Tock: Course I do!

Clock: *Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind-DING!*

Tock: YOUR the Grim reaper! 

AND YES-there are screws in her croco-teeth, don’t question it, its just awesome.

Tock: And THESE are the last 60 seconds of your life.

*SHING*

6:10*GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW*

And yes, the action scene ends exactly SIXTY seconds after she starts glowing, AS WELL as the clock stopping sixty seconds after it officially started and its absolutely brilliant-TO THE FIGHT-

6:13-Tock starts with a straightforward slash-BUT Grimm Reaper Maria blocks it like a boss-BUT-

6:16 -TOCK knocks away one of her mini-scythes-BUT MARIA-

-NOT ONLY gravetizes her other scythe back to her-

-BUT WHILE BLOCKING SHOTGUN CHARLIE-damn she was great in her prime. THEN-

-she slashes Machete Jackson RIGHT in the face-

6:27 Knocks away BOTH of these punks-

6:30 While knocking Hammer Armond down-LIKE A BOSS! BUT THEN-

6:31 TOCK comes in with the double slash, grinning like a mad woman.

Jackson and Tock get the jump on her, one zigs, the other zags, PROMPTING MARIA TO ACTIVATE-

6:44 BO-STAFF MODE-now it has DOUBLE the attack power!

She goes in striking Jackson-

-BUT TOCK-gets up close and personal-

6:47

And in a SPLIT second-

JACKSON’S back up and tag-teams Maria with Tock...wait, not like that.

Maria knocks back Jackson again, she zigs, Tock zags, LOTSA ZIGGING AND ZAGGIN UP IN THIS

ALL THE WHILE-the same tick-tick ticking is going on-OOOH-its like a Venture bros scene!

Maria looks like she’s got the upper hand-BUT TOCK-

6:56 BITES THE FUCK THROUGH her battle staff-

6:57 HEADBUTTS AWAY-her mask-

-where it SHATTERS in mid-air, holy SHIT! ALSO-Maria is pretty-HUZZAH!

Either way this LEADS TOCK-

7:01 -to slash her GOD DAMNED eyes open! All. Within. 60. SECONDS! HOLY SHIT!

Tock high off her victory then starts gloating to the no de-eyed Grimm reaper, mocking her as weak while Maria blindly shoots her gun-scythes-WHILE ALSO-

-throwing one of her weapons behind her, which Tock isn’t worried about at all...for some reason.

*CLICK*

*KER-SLASH* Dead...presumably.

Never doubt the power of purple folks.

8:04 FLASH FORWARD to the present, where everyone in the cart being pulled by a SINGLE motorcycle deals with the fact that they were travelling with THE Grimm Reaper this whole time. Seriously Qrow straight up geeks out a little to, admitting he based his scythe on her weapon...well...just the scythe apparently, also his gun is more of a shot-gun where as hers seemed more like glocks AH whatever.

Maria than gives herself a BIG OLD pity party, mentioning that even after she got her new fancy robot eyes she couldn’t bare to go back out into the field, fearing the danger that comes with battle and...I KNOW she’s clearly going to be Ruby’s mentor, but I ALSO hope she bonds with Yang as well, as holy SHIT she’s similar to Yang.

Both lost appendages during battle, both had said appendages replaced with mechanical accouterments, and BOTH are hilarious! HELL for wall we know Maria also had an almost-girlfriend who ran out on her, another almost girlfriend who got shipped off to Narnia, and a little sister who kept battling because CRIME! 

Hell, she PRACTICALLY acknowledges it-

9:11 Maria: Because some of you are clearly stronger than me all ready.

Yang: *Sad ephiphany face*.

DAMN am I glad she’s part of the group!

After Maria avoids Ruby’s plea to train her to use her magical Grimm zapping super eyes-WE GETS A SCROLL CALL-

Jaune: OH MY GOD I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU ARE YOU ALIVE?!

Ruby: I answered the SCROLL Jaune, the answer is clearly yes.

Jaune: I just miss my friends.

-INFORMING THEM ALL-that they are RIGHT CLOSE TO-

10:20 BASINGSE-I mean-THE WALLED CITY OF ELDIA-wait not...ARGUS-yeah Argus! But FIRST Team RWBYQOM needs to FACE-

-THE STEEPEST HILL ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET! I mean...LOOK AT THAT THING-its huge! Also I love the design of the trees and the grass, its just beautiful!

BUT-through the magic of television-

-THEY’RE ALL READY THERE! Seriously I bet it took them like TWO hours inching down that path. I know construction is always lax in Remnant due to Grimm attacks, but someone NEEDS to make that path safer!

But enough about that-BEHOLD-

-THIS CASTLE WALL-with lots of armed guards on the top! No Titan is gonna sneak up on the city on THEIR watch!

But enough abou that-ITS HUG TIME:

And a billion shippers hearts, just exploded. 

After the love fest, we get-ARGUS SCENERY THROUGH WORLD-BUILDING:

Look at all this, Rooster Teeth’s background budget got WAY bank and they are FLAUNTING that wealth!

This Objects and Oddities lady is my favorite, she’s just SO pissed off, I wander why?

We also see-

-A MOVIE THEATER-showing such brand spanking new films, INCLUDING-

TRYST IN THE MIST-a raunchy tale about a romantic affair that takes place IN THE MIST! Given 4 stars by “Incredibly specific affair based movie” monthly!

...a...MOVIE within a movie apparently...weird.

DEMON IN THE DEEP-one of several monster movies that SOMEHOW exist on Earth-RWBY. I’m just saying, with all the REAL monster attacks, wouldn’t monster movies seem insensitive? SPEAKING of insensitive-

THE FALL...of Beacon...I know I’m not the first to say this but too soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon.

So bla bla bla, Argus was made to promote trade between kingdoms, bla bla bla, Atlas military has all but abandoned it bla bla bla-LET’S MEET JAUNE’S SISTER!

LOOK AT HER! FEEL-her youthful and adorable mom energy!

And the REST of the episode is PRETTY MUCH just an assortment of adorable images.

Yang playing airplane with baby Adrien(THE CUTENESS).

THE THREE ARMED-flopping Jaune-IN ALL of its glory!

AN INSULTED BOY-

12:56 -and the women who adore him-

AND ALL THE ARC SIBLINGS:

Okay I don’t know HOW many fan-artists are left on Tumblr due to the incoming purge, but I want some ADORABLE web-comics based on this STAT! LOOK AT MINI-JAUNE-he’s so CUTE! And just when you things couldn’t get ANY better-

13:22

Sapphron: Everyone, this is my wife Terra Cotta.

BAM-twenty gay-TEEN mother fuckers!

SUBTLE-Renora sandwich time! Look at these two, YOUNG LOVE mother fuckers!

But more importantly Terra asks THE REAL questions-

Terra: Is that (Bringing students along on dangerous Huntsman missions) even legal?

Qrow: Er, uh, of course!

And I just...LOVE that both Maria and Ruby have the exact same looks on their faces, their both thinking “The closest thing we have to a real chaperone is a bipolar alcoholic...this is what my life has become”.

After a nice little sandwich lunch, and learning that Terra Cotta-Arc is a hardworking radio engineer being unjustly accused of bad mistakes(if there’s ANYONE to blame its Lionheart), while team RWBY decides the best way to GO to Atlas is with the LOCAL MILITARY BASE-which I’m sure will accept them with OPEN AR-

SLAM

Ooooooooooooooooooor not. Hey, its only HALF way through the season, they gots PLENTY of time!

SUMMATION-this easily had one of the BEST action sequences of the ENTIRE season, the backgrounds were BEAUTIFUL and there were just so many cute scenes-TEN OUT OF TEN for me! AND WITH THAT-that’s the end of MICKSTERECAP-if you liked what you read, message me if you want to donate to my Paypal or Ko-Fi. With that I will see you NEXT WEEK-on Mick the Nerd’s a.k.a. Yoshimickster’s MICKSTERECAP! Sorry this one was a bit late!

[knotty-hottie]

@alycat919 So, we haven’t talked before, but your post in the Ouran High School Host Club tag reminded me of my final paper for my Gender/Women Studies and I thought I’d share it. I promise I’m not tagging for drama, but just because I wanted to thank you for reminding me. It was a lot of fun to write a research paper about my first anime, and, despite the negativity I talk about in the paper, it’s still a personal fave of mine. You’re free to scroll past this if you aren’t interested, or to engage if you are. I just want to share the work I’ve done with the fandom I’ve explored. 😁

Ouran High School Host Club: Rich in Benevolent Sexism and Rape Culture

He pinned her against the bed, looming above her like a wild beast. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide, her nightgown bunched, her breath caught in her chest. The two stared at each other, like predator and prey, for a split second that felt like an eternity. He opened his mouth, and spoke, surely, calmly.

“You should fix that, ‘being a guy or girl doesn’t matter’ naivety of yours. It’s your fault for being too defenceless.”

It may sound like something from a badly written smut piece, or the rape fantasy of a young person, but in Ouran High School Host Club, this is the reality of our heroine, Haruhi Fujioka. She is a ‘commoner’ (lower middle class) student at a school for Japan’s most elite, having gotten in on a scholarship. After an incident involving her stumbling into an occupied music room in search of a study place, a vase worth ¥8,000,000 (equal to approximately $73,000 in today’s United States dollars), and some classic anime tropes, she ends up as a member of the school’s host club. The series itself describes the host club as “[The place] where the school’s handsomest boys with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Just think of it as Ouran’s elegant playground for the super rich and beautiful.” The series is one of the most famous of all time in the anime community, coming in at spot 20 out of the top 50 most popular anime of all time on the Anime News Network. On SBS, Ouran came in at spot 40 on a fan-voted poll for best anime of all time. On Funimation (the anime’s publisher site) and Crunchyroll (one of the most popular anime streaming sites of today’s day and age) Ouran comes in at 5 stars. It’s a well known, well liked piece of media, that has earned itself an anime adaptation from its manga origin, a dating simulator from its anime adaptation, and a live action reboot based on all three of the previous iterations. Yet, somehow, underneath all of the things to like, there’s a dark underbelly that many willfully ignore or are just plain unaware of. The series perpetuates gender roles, rape culture, and some not-so-subtle homophobia. The way that it gets away with these things is by portraying them through the lens of benevolent sexism, which catches readers, watchers, and players alike off-guard.

Benevolent sexism falls under the larger umbrella of ambivalent sexism, which is divided into two main categories. The first category is hostile sexism, which is what most people think of when they try and imagine sexism. It is described by Dictionary.com as, “[sexism] reflecting negative views of women who challenge traditional gender roles.” It is the toxic, hypermasculinized form of sexism that many are taught to look for. It is the comments of, “You aren’t a real woman if your hair is short like that,” and, “Women are dumber than men.” On the other end of the spectrum, there’s the idea of benevolent sexism. Rather than comments of, “Women are weaker than men, making them inferior,” we hear the benevolent sexist say, “Men should protect women, as it’s the right thing to do.” It’s those moments where women are told they look better when they smile, or are in dresses, or have children in arm. The words are complementary and polite, but they hold the same message as those negative comments of the hostile sexist. Ouran works carefully to craft its message so that it doesn’t insult its main fan base (young women), while still getting its message across. For example, there’s the character of Renge Houshakuji.

Renge first appears in the manga in ‘Episode 3’ and in episode 4 of the anime adaptation. She is what is known as an otaku, which, in modern culture, refers to someone obsessed with some aspect of pop culture (whether that be video games, anime, movies, etc.) to the point that their social life suffers. In Japan, the word has become a word similar to our ‘nerd’ or ‘geek’. In American culture, the word is considered derogatory, and usually falls in line with words like ‘weeaboo’ and ‘wapanese’. Renge wholeheartedly accepts her otaku status, locking herself in her room to do what she enjoys most; playing dating sims. After a turn of events, she ends up at the Host Club, believing that she is in love with Kyouya Ootori, a host who looks identical to one of her favorite characters. After she reveals that this is why she likes Kyouya, she is bashed for her hobbies and considered crazy. The moment her hobbies come to light, they are painted as wrong and she is vilified, even though her male counterparts are considered just and right in there own hobbies. When Hani, one of the hosts, is depicted as morally correct for acknowledging that he is allowed to like the color pink and cute things rather than martial arts. Renge is one of the few female characters in the show that is depicted as having personality traits outside of, “infatuated with handsome boys” and “ultra feminine”, yet she is considered “crazy” for expressing those outside traits. It isn’t that she isn’t traditionally feminine, but that she has more to her character than that, much to the dismay of her male counterparts. She has her own hobbies and ideas. She knows exactly what she wants and goes for it. Even if her methods are questionable and a bit on the stereotypically crazy side, she still goes after her aspirations.

When Tamaki, one of the main characters of the show, greets and flirtily welcomes Renge to the club, she flinches away at his nonconsensual touch. She seems shell-shocked, blushing in what seems like embarrassment. After she comes to terms with him touching her face without permission, she slaps him, calling him a phony (among other insults), and leaving him emotionally beaten before going to Kyouya, the one she really wants. She decides to reinvent the Host Club’s characters in order to help Kyouya make more money, which should, she believes, make him fall in love with her the way she loves him. She is shown to get her ‘comeuppance,’ in a sense, when everything she goes for backfires. Kyouya reveals that he does not like her, she nearly ends up hurt, and she is told that she must take her time and learn about others in order to have a good relationship of any kind. When you come into relationships expecting someone to act a certain way, you are harming your chances of a healthy relationship. The message is good, but Renge’s fate is not quite as nice. She becomes a frequent background character, used for exposition, cheap plot device, and/or the voice of the fawning fan girls. The closest we get to her personal hobbies is the fact that she sometimes cosplays and, if we’re lucky, hear her talk about them for five or so seconds.

Another example of women in the show comes in the form of Benio Amakusa and the rest of the Zuka Club. In the third book of the series, specifically in ‘Episode 10’, we are introduced to Benio. She is dressed in the men’s uniform, has short hair, and is openly flirtatious with Haruhi, acknowledging Haruhi’s sex publicly to the Host Club’s dismay. Once Benio and company reveal to the hosts that they are, in fact, women, Tamaki labels them all as lesbians. All three do end up showing attraction of some sort to women, but the fact that he labels them all as such simply because one is shown to enjoy dressing in the men’s uniform and having short hair is a disturbing thought in and of itself. Tamaki sees that one is a lesbian, and begins making assumptions about their collective character based on that assumption. He goes so far as to pass out in shock at the presence of lesbians, and, once he awakens, says the following to the three Lobelia Woman’s Academy members; “You girls are all wrong!! What can come from a woman loving a woman!? Why did God create Adam and Eve, if not--!” He’s cut off before he can finish the thought, much to the LGBT+ community’s pleasure. Much to the community’s displeasure, however, is the imagery used in the anime to depict lesbians as nazis, having them do the nazi salute to a flag labeled “women”. Back to the plot, once he believes that he might lose Haruhi to this all-girl’s academy, he has some of his fellow hosts dress in exaggerated womanly clothing and wigs so that she can have ‘the best of both worlds,’ so to speak. The hosts think that, if they act ‘womanly’ enough, they will be a satisfactory replacement. Haruhi proceeds to explain that she had never even considered going with the girls, as her home was with the hosts. The Lobelia girls promise their revenge in a seemingly silly and typical manner.

In the only other episode that the Lobelia girls show themselves in, we get to see them kidnap Haruhi and, under the guise of needing Haruhi to perform, trick her into a situation that would lead to a non-consensual kiss in front of a large crowd, if not do more to her. When you watch the show, there doesn’t seem to be much going on aside from a silly and ridiculous plan that some rich lesbians are pulling to get revenge on the ‘noble and correct’ Host Club. When you really think about what’s happening though, it’s scary. They kidnap someone. They nearly sexually assault someone. What does it say that there only true gay representation resorts to these tactics when they are previously thwarted? The girls are basically degraded to recurring villains with silly beliefs, antics, and existences. Why is that?

In volume 5 of the manga, ‘Episode 17,’ we get exposed to Ayame Jonouchi, who is entirely skipped over in the anime. She makes a return in the live action series, however, holding her own arc in the third episode of the series. She’s incredibly intelligent, notably attractive, and, according to the hosts, a monotone speaker. They even go so far as to call her, “Miss Morse” and “Morse Code Lady” at one point. She is described as scholarly looking and strait-laced, and holds a major grades complex. The last of those points explains why she has always been in the top two of her classes grading system, holding the second place position hostage directly under the Host Club’s Kyouya Ootori. Once Tamaki transfers to Ouran, however, she gets knocked down to third, much to her displeasure. She becomes a foil for Tamaki in a sense, showing that her struggle and constant practice to gain knowledge will never be enough to beat the natural tendencies of her male counterparts. After checking the traditional genders of all of the names listed on the sheet for her class, I discovered that there was only one other girl on the page. Her position? Seventh place.

Ayame’s tale’s conclusion is a little bit painful to watch, as it is near a cliche at this point. It turns out that she actually loved Tamaki for a certain comment he made about her straight hair during their first meeting. Her hair is naturally wavy, leading to her having self-image issues in the face of her crush that lead her grades to drop just enough for Tamaki to take her spot. Her wavy hair being exposed by the rain, a breakdown of frustration, and a few compliments from Tamaki later, she discovers that she is beautiful no matter how she looks on the outside, and becomes a regular customer of Tamaki’s. She is petite, cisgender, heterosexual, and pale. The only reason we know that she continues attending the Host Club is because it is literally written into the final panels of the chapter. We never actually see her again in either rendition of the story.

The most famous ‘woman’ in all renditions of Ouran High School Host Club is Haruhi Fujioka. She is a first semester high school student. She is of the lower middle class. She lives with her father that, in every rendition of the story, is called a ‘tranny’ who works at the local ‘tranny bar’ (rather than addressing him as a drag queen at a drag bar). Her mother was a lawyer before her passing. She is attending Ouran Academy on a scholarship. Her hair is short, she needs glasses, and she can’t afford a uniform. She wears her father’s hand-me-down clothes and her grandfather’s hand-me-down glasses to save money. She’s blunt, book smart, and open minded. She’s a lot of things, but, somehow, she gets some of the worst treatment of the series. She is the reader’s insight into the author’s world; the character being exposed for expositional purposes, so to speak. For the sake of brevity, let’s walk through some key episodes of the anime (which is the story’s most well-known adaptation) and talk about what goes wrong in each one.

In the first episode of the series, “Starting Today, You Are a Host!”, we are introduced to Haruhi Fujioka, the protagonist of the story, who is simply looking for a quiet place to study, and, by mistake, stumbles across a club room in use by Ouran Academy’s Host Club. The members (specifically Tamaki, the series’ largest offender) proceed to insult Haruhi on monetary grounds, insert themselves into her personal space, and assume her gender identity and sexuality. After Haruhi drops an 8 million yen vase, the hosts (again, primarily Tamaki) begin to call Haruhi a dog and basically use her as a servant/errand runner. At one point, Tamaki calls Haruhi a ‘piglet’ in reference to her poor ‘servant’ status putting her beneath him. Later in the episode, Haruhi is revealed to be conventionally attractive, her wants are ignored as the hosts makeover her. Her hair is cut, a uniform is bought, and contacts are put in to make her fit the traditionally beauty standards of manhood (as, for the moment, some of the hosts are under the ruse that she is, in fact, biologically male and cisgender). Once this happens, all who attend the host club seem to treat Haruhi better. She is talked to by girls (which, many argue, is understandable, as she is now a host. My counter-argument is that the girls had to request Haruhi in the first place, something they likely would not have done before Haruhi’s involuntary makeover) and the hosts begin paying her real attention. Tamaki begins claiming Haruhi as ‘his own’ to other people, signalling that, to him, attractiveness is the primary trait that is needed to be on the same level as him, personality be damned. He also proceeds to invade her personal space without consent, which leads to her calling on Mori (another host) for assistance.

Once we hit the final moments of the episode, we find that Haruhi has gone to a changing room as her uniform has been soaked in the events of the episode’s climax. Tamaki, yet again invading personal space without consent, walks in with little to no warning on Haruhi changing, discovering her sex is female. He is shocked and embarrassed, reacting in a seemingly cute way to the discovery. Kyouya eventually comments on the predicament, laying out on the table the true message of the episode. “Could this possibly be the beginnings of love?” he asks the viewer, turning to the camera. He wipes over all of the harassment Tamaki has done to Haruhi, ignores what she really wants in the moment, and waters her character down to ‘love interest’. She is the pretty, feminine foil to Tamaki’s handsome, ‘persistent’ (read as; incessant harassment) personality. They are clearly ‘meant to be together,’ and the show makes it clear in that moment that they will be together whether she wants to be or not as the men in her life see it that way.

In the eighth episode, “The Sun, The Sea, and The Host Club!”, we find the most controversial scene of the series. Before we can get to that, however, we need to walk through the circumstances that lead us to it. The Host Club is on a trip to the beach (after all the men in Haruhi’s life argue about which swimsuit she should wear, of course), and the male hosts decide to figure out what Haruhi is afraid of via a game. The game is that whoever finds out what Haruhi is most afraid of gets pictures (taken and supplied by Haruhi’s father) of Haruhi in middle school (the more I rewatch these episodes, the more creepy things I realize are in them). After a long day with no results, Haruhi gets called up upon an overlook by some of the Host Club’s guests. As she makes her way up to spend time with them, some drunk men beat her there and begin harassing the guests. They grab the girls, asking them if it’s dull without any boys around and ignoring the girls’ pleas to stop. Haruhi, arriving upon the scene, throws a bucket of shells at one of the offenders, calmly asking them to go away. She stands her ground when one of them attacks back, allowing for one of the girls they were harassing to get away at her own expense. After some verbal abuse, Haruhi is thrown off the overlook into the water below, where Tamaki immediately goes in after her. The other hosts handle the assaulters, and, once Haruhi is proven to be safe, the berating begins. “Are you one of those?” asks Tamaki. “Actually a martial arts master, like Honey-senpai?” He grabs her, and goes on. “How could you think that you, a girl, by yourself, could do anything about those boys?!” After Haruhi explains that her actions were a split second decision and she didn’t have time to think, he yells at her, “Well, think about it, you idiot! You are a girl!”

Tamaki and the rest of the male hosts seem to be on the same page, insisting that Haruhi needs to apologize for her actions. Haruhi, on the other hand, does not see any wrong in what she did, which leads to some friction between herself and Tamaki. The two refuse to speak to each other until one apologizes to the other. At dinner, to avoid talking, Haruhi overeats to the point of making herself sick, which she notices only after being chastised again by the hosts sans Tamaki and Kyouya for her actions. After they request an apology from her, she finds that she needs to empty her stomach’s contents and runs to the nearest bedroom. She finds out that the room is, in fact, Kyouya’s, and that the two of them are now alone, prompting the series’s most controversial scene. Fans sometimes call it, “The Scene in the Dark.”

Haruhi apologizes to Kyouya on multiple grounds as he takes the time to lay out all the hassle she has caused him. When Haruhi offers to pay him back, he points out that he has far more money than her and that she is already in debt. He turns down the lights as he lays out her dilemma and brings up a new solution as he leers at her; why doesn’t she pay him back using her body? While she stands there, attempting to process what he’s said, Kyouya takes action. He grabs her arm. He throws her upon the bed. He straddles her, pins her to the bed, and tells her, bluntly, “You should rethink your own gullibility, that things have nothing to do with a person being a guy or a girl. You’ve made a mistake in leaving yourself so open.” He looks her in the eye and, in simple terms, lays out that he could take her. He has more money, more power, and, most prominently, a penis. Haruhi says that he is bluffing, and, luckily, he was. He gets off of her, and she comments that he is “nicer than she thought” for the experience he’s provided. Bisco Hatori, the creator of Ouran, drives home her message bluntly. Women are weak and should be protected by the men in their lives. They should be passive and, if they fail to be such, should immediately apologize. If a man decides to not sexually assault or rape you, he is nice. You should be thankful that he has the courtesy to not sexually abuse you. It’s legitimately terrifying that this is the message that is being sent out.

As salt in the wound, the very next scene is with Tamaki and Haruhi, with the latter cast as a scared little girl in the damsel in distress trope. She hides herself in the closet, curled in a ball, as the audience and Tamaki discover that Haruhi is scared of thunderstorms! She explains that she has always had to rely on herself as her mother is dead and her dad is constantly working. In response, Tamaki promises to take care of her from now on, she seems to come to a silent agreement to lean on the men in her life more, and the two have an emotional make up moment. Haruhi gets love and support from her friends again once she begins to lean on the men in her life and accept the help. I’ve seen other people argue that the message of the episode is that everyone needs to rely on others sometimes, which is a fair argument, but I can’t bring myself to agree the more I look at it. If it’s just about relying on others, why is there the scared little girl imagery? Why do they even emphasize Haruhi’s sex at all in this scenario if it’s not about that? Hatori knew what she was writing, and the message she sent out. She had a plethora of other ways to explore this theme, and she wouldn’t have written it this way unless she meant for it to be taken in a gender-biased manner.

I could go on, but I feel that I’ve explained my stance on the matter. Ouran High School Host Club is a classic anime in the anime community. A lot of people I know and that I’ve heard from in my life grew up with the show, and some still seek a romantic partner like one of the hosts. In all of the series’s adaptations, we find that certain themes remain prevalent. Women are meant to be pretty, submissive things that are interested in their male counterparts at all times. If you have your own interests, you are obsessive and crazy. If you like the same sex, you are against men. If you take a leadership position, you’re a nag. If you stand for what you think is right, you are a bother to the men around you. It’s scarily similar to what I’ve seen on social media. If you talk about sex too much, you’re a slut. If you talk about sex too little, you’re a prude. If you are too skinny, you’re on drugs, too fat, you have no impulse control. It seems that there is no ‘right’ woman to possibly be, in the fantasy that is Ouran or in the reality we face daily. We can only hope that, someday in the future, we can look back at Ouran and unanimously see it for what it is; a romanticized sexist daydream disguised as a teenage anime romantic comedy.

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