#fan magazine finds

[zer0expektation]

slightly obsessed with cassie/girl-dean atm,,

[shitswiftiessay]

Ok Tree Paine

“There is no bad blood” and she literally liked shady posts about him on instagram last week but sure, I believe you, this definitely isn’t DAMAGE CONTROL because Taylor’s getting called out for treating Joe badly and inciting her fanbase on him for a whole year when he wasn’t actually that guilty to begin with.

But sure Tree Paine lol, I believe you.

[creaturefeaster]

Based off of what you answered about mimes and love, I’m assuming Bonnie is the person Holly gets "a little lovey,” right? Just checking, like to update that fact in the color quest wiki haha

Omg he wiiiiiiiishes. No, Bonnie has higher standards than that. And Holly is very romantique, Bonnie is not.

[enbysiriusblack]

remus loves folklore books, lily loves fantasy books, regulus loves classical books, peter loves comic books, emmeline loves detective books, dorcas loves poetry books, mary loves romance books, james loves sci-fi books, marlene loves rock magazines, sirius loves play scripts

[phant0m-l0rd]

I wanted to share this cool find I made a few weeks ago while going through some of my uncle's old music magazines from the early 80s : an article from June 1984 written by Hervé Picart about a little up and coming band called Metallica... Finding this article felt like opening a time capsule.

(Magazine: BEST N°191, June 1984, French.)

I translated the article to English for the non-French speakers- translation after the cut:

Everything is currently changing on the good old West Coast. Just as we thought Frisco and Los Angeles forever attached to FM rock, poppy hits and beach boy philosophy, a surprising push of hard fever has come to contaminate them. Van Halen is no longer alone. Mötley Crüe, Heaven, and many others are shaking up the prophet kingdom in California, to such an extent that it might soon be necessary to rebaptise the Golden Gate "Metal Gate". Among all these new groups which are currently candidates to convert Jerry Garcia to heavy music and force everyone to trade their flower patterned bermuda for a black leather jacket, Metallica is without a doubt the most significant, and the most jostling act. These Californians have only released one album as of right now, but an album of such power, and accompanied by such emotion that a regular dose of Metallica has become a priority for all metalheads worthy of that name. There is no doubt both from a musical standpoint and from a purely emotional one that America now beholds its own Iron Maiden. Nothing less.

Like always in the case of rising waves, it was a compilation of various heavy groups, created in 1982 by the little local label Metal Blade Records and baptised "Metal Massacre", which revealed to the public of aficionados and curious minds alike the existence of Metallica. Their unique title, the henceforth mythical "Hit the lights", crushed all competition like Maiden's "Sanctuary" had done on the legendary "Metal For Muthas". "Hit the lights", it was a sort of sonic whirlwind which makes one want to take from all bands known for their label of "speed" that very label and reserve it for Metallica. The gang was then at the tail-end of their first chapter and was finishing off their work with their first formation, as five, with two guitarists.

Of this initial quintet, today there only remains the singer/rhythm guitarist James Hetfield and the drummer Lars Ulrich. The others, exhausted, passed the baton to the bassist Cliff Burton (speaking of which, treacherous minds have said ever since his solo "Anesthesia" that he had a dinosaur for a teacher), and the electrifying lead guitarist Kirk Hammett. As evidenced, Hetfield and Hammett are the two poles of Metallica, one with his warm and powerful voice which lends itself well to choruses of miraculously melodic quality amongst such chaos, and the other with his totally insane solos. Visibly, Kirk Hammett has learned to play his Flying V thinking it was a machine gun because he seems to create blasts more than anything. His virtuosity, the speed of his going along the fretboard inevitably make you dizzy.

After having blown minds from the get-go thanks to "Hit the lights", Metallica found a peculiar glory as immediate as it was underground, as those wired into heavy music consider it the pinnacle of power to be able to share, like sharp conspirators, precious copies of cassettes of demo tapes the band had made in order to make the rounds among record labels. While some official labels, rather frightened, quickly closed the door on them, the incredible interest from the underground scene acted like propaganda for the group, from Frisco to LA. Metallica then decided to play this game in their favour and opted for the small label Megaforce in order to release their first album, the crushing "Kill 'em all", very quickly released in England by the knowing people of Music for Nations, then later here by Bernett.

This more than mighty album does a good job in presenting two different aspects of Metallica. On one hand, relatively short songs, but hyper-accelerated, like "Hit the lights", the famous "Motorbreath", or the terrific "Whiplash". On the other, much longer tracks, composed of various sequences which battle each other, superposing riffs, rhythmic sections syncopated to an extreme, and more labyrinthine tracks that undeniably make one think of Iron Maiden. And all of that magnetised by the two bewitching Flying Vs, that of Hetfield which sounds like a metallic cavalcade (that of the "Four horsemen" of the apocalypse), and that of Hammett which comes again and again like a Mirage plane attacking. Midway between Motörhead and Maiden, then.

Ever since this incandescent record which has made them appear in Europe like the saviours of American rock, Metallica is progressively emerging from its lair. This spring, they were in Europe recording a new album. "Ride the Lightning", which will come out in June when they'll come to shake the first swarms of French fans, will give you all the occasion to fully integrate their healthy maxim, "Bang that head that doesn't bang"!!!

- Hervé Picart

Discography:

- In French pressing: "Kill 'em all" (Bernett- Musidisc)

- Imported:

"Seek and destroy " (max 45 live tours)

"Metal up your ass" (other version of "Kill 'em all")

[gacktfan69]

Does anyone know where I can learn more about visual kei culture in terms of fans? Like "bangya culture" I guess, things like fashion trends among fans, stuff like that. I saw recently some black cases like flight cases? decorated with photos of bands, logos, etc and I wanna find more things of that nature

[dielukedie-subaru]

All About the new Legacy from 1993 by Motor Fan. pgs 1-3

This is a real cool big book/magazine that has loads of information and pictures I've never seen before. Looks like a compilation of a bunch old dealer brochures I've seen and some articles that I saw in Hyper Rev. Epic addition to my collection.

[a-dream-seeking-light]

grimes by brian ziff (fan edit + what looks to be an ai extension? from grimes fan soyewor’s twitter)

[charrfie]

Drawn to life posting ! Why does nobody ever talk about this wilfre art from a game devloper magazine. He looks so silly

[thetimelordbatgirl]

The Sarah Jane Companion magazines arrived and...yeah, I got thoughts on some of the unmade episodes/the ideas, but its cool to see the info we get in the magazines. 

[slightlyhowling]

Some were almost true or similar.

[have-kake]

It's strange being in a fandom so long that you see things that used to be common knowledge get lost to the sands of time.

Like Twilight Princess has started experiencing the Zelda Cycle in reverse which rip, so there's been a lot of 'in defense of Twilight Princess' videos on YT recently. And something I'm seeing most of them say is "yeah it would've been better if they orchestrated the music, and they should have."

Which is absolutely baffling to me. That was one of the big things about Twilight Princess when it came out. They tried to have the soundtrack orchestrated. They wanted it orchestrated but they were told no. That's why Skyward Sword was such a big deal! Skyward Sword did get the orchestra. They said they finally achieved the dream they've had since TP by having the soundtrack orchestrated.

It's so wild to see that knowledge forgotten.

[sillycyan]

Donis is the type of guy to get compared TO HIMSELF by a fan who doesn’t fully recognize him in public and go “I have no clue who that very attractive man is..” even after being put side by side 💀

[autistichalsin]

In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[ozzgin]

I keep thinking about a yan!school news paper and it's just full of readers social media posts or js doing mundane things. Maybe trying to guess readers type like in old magazines

See, I think the newspaper choice would be too obvious. What if Reader were to find it? Even more, what if they signed up for the newspaper club one day?

Instead, I'm picturing a secret blog, where everyone can submit their latest scoop about Reader. From creepshots, to plain gossip, to user-made content. Some prefer the cold facts, such as Reader's activity on that particular day. Others like to daydream, so they'll share little matching games or self-insert doodles.

Everything is anonymous and maintained with utmost caution. So much, in fact, that the blog has gained a sort of mythical reputation, an urban legend only accessible to the true fans.

There is, of course, the ever-constant risk of being discovered.

"Unbelievable", the principal sighs, scrolling through the unhinged compendium of posts. "Make sure it's taken down immediately."

"Of course," one of the teachers agrees, huffing with feigned indignation. "The rascals!"

He exits the office with theatrical wrath, then proceeds to text one of the students, explaining they have been caught and they'll need to switch to a different address.

The legend continues, unperturbed.

[Yandere School Masterlist]