#gay space dads universe

[what-even-is-thiss]

I feel like when it comes to the stardew valley spouses Sebastian would be the one I settle down with but Elliot is the one I think about at night.

He shines too brightly. He’s a little too loud. But he still makes my gay little heart jump the same way it did the first time. Every time.

But Sebastian is more stable. Sebastian loves you but can still have his own life separate from you. And he’s there. Quiet, but he’s there.

But Elliot alone in his cabin side eyes me every time I walk down to the beach. I meet his eyes a bit too long at festivals. We both know. We both know if one of us asked we would. But we won’t. It seems that he’s destined to be lonely and I am destined to be trapped. If not in my corporate job then there on that farm with that cozy safe husband and children, crops that need tending to, animals that need feeding.

Is anyone unhappy? No. Elliot has his modest success. He can live modestly off of his book sales. In time he grows old on that beach just as he feared, but it’s not so bad. He’s the town eccentric. He’s the local writer. He writes a new novel every year. A cheap little thing bought at an airport bookstore. A romance writer whose books are eaten and discarded within a week. And he’s happy.

And I sell my little artisan goods. Cheese and wine mostly these days. We put a little skull and crossbones on the wine bottles, just to be edgy. Just because we can. Children grow up in a stable and happy home with all the space in the world to run through the blueberry fields, their adoption papers framed on the wall, their slightly weird alternative dads taking them on motorcycle rides through the mountains. We’re quiet. We only get out on Fridays. Everyone knows us but we don’t hold hands at the store.

Elliot and I sit at the same table in the bar that Leah does. I know her slightly less than I know him. This town has become weirder. That’s good. We chat. Elliot is a messy drunk. Sometimes he gets a little too close to my face when he’s tipsy but he always stops himself. Everyone knows I wouldn’t stop him if he leaned in. Including my husband. We’ve never spoken about it but he’s not dumb. Everyone knows. Everyone also knows that nothing has happened. But it always could.

But Elliot doesn’t lean in. Maybe it’s the smell of dirt on me that breaks the image of me he has in his mind. Maybe it’s the public space. Maybe it’s Sebastian playing pool in the corner. Maybe if he was drunk in a private space everything would come apart. Both of our perfect on paper little lives.

Maybe if this were one of Elliot’s books we would run away together, abandon everything in the middle of the night. But neither of us would like that, really. Both of us are a one person at a time kind of guy. And we both know I made the right choice.

I still have dreams though. Of him and I on a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. He cannot contain himself and kisses me in a fit of passion. Like a vision from another universe where I’m just as happy as I am now. A parallel mirror world where I never climbed onto the back of that motorcycle and ran down the hill to the beach instead, where everything lasted for more than just that one summer.

[david-talks-sw]

"The Acolyte" wasn't 'woke' propaganda.

I had my issues with the show (you can check out my other posts to see what they were) but there's this notion that The Acolyte was created to spread The Message™ of "woke propaganda"... and I think there's a bit of a mix-up going on, there.

Because that's simplifying things a lot.

When you're a minority, you're not "being woke" when you're just being yourself! Conversely, you're not "writing to be woke" when you're a minority drawing inspiration from your personal experiences to tell a story.

I talked before about how George Lucas implemented elements of his personal life in his own films. In his own words:

"There's no way to write without writing from yourself. Y'know, the stuff gets made out of things that you care about… whether you've actually lived them or not. There are emotional issues that you deal with, and I think that's always a major factor with any writer. I don’t think— it's hard to write without having some kind of emotional connection to the material. I've never seen any reason not to. It’s easy to write that way. It's hard to write in the abstract. So when I write a scene, I write a scene that moves me or I care about, or is something that is personal to me." - George Lucas, Q&A with Lynne Hale, 1994 (StarWars.com)

Any piece of writing worth some salt needs to come from a personal place to some degree because that's where the heart of the story, the truth, lies. That's what an audience will relate to.

Example: The six original Star Wars films are purely George Lucas. As in, everything in those films, from the characters, to the cinematography, to the editing style, etc are all a reflection of who George is as a person and what he stands for:

anti-Vietnam / "fight the corporate & imperial machine"

60s-70s white kid from Modesto, California

single father of three

who defines himself as Methodist-Buddhist,

has an anthropology major and

a passion for Kurosawa,

cinema vérité,

cinema history in general

art and visuals and

car racing.

You see all that in those films.

Same thing with The Acolyte.

Leslye Headland drew from her personal experiences.

Among other things, Leslye is gay. So that's what she uses as inspiration to, for instance, craft Qimir's character motivation.

"I was on the treadmill being like, “What is [Qimir] gonna say?!” And my wife, who is a huge part of my creative process, finally she said, “What do you wanna say? Stop thinking of it like you have to somehow tap into a different guy.” [...] I was like, “I wanna say that people don't want me to exist as a gay woman, as a woman in this particular space, working in this wild sandbox.” There was a whole crew of people who believed in me, but deep down, I felt like, “I am unaccepted for who I am because of what I believe in and wanting to wield my power the way I'd like without having to answer to the legion of people that just exist out there.”" - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

She took this specific life experience of hers, and then made it more universal, so that a bigger audience could relate to it.

"By the way, I think everybody feels this way. I think that's why it resonates when you're honest about yourself, and you get personal about it. When [Qimir] says, “I want freedom,” that's what I want. I just want freedom. I want to be able to just be out there and be myself and be the type of artist I want to be without having to answer to anybody." - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

Same goes with Osha and Sol's relationship, or how she defines the Jedi Order. It derives from her own relationship with her father and how she felt being raised straight, in a Christian household.

If you have the time, listen to this audio clip where she describes that.

In the context of the whole interview, her voice goes down a few octaves and starts to crack a bit. This is a vulnerable moment, when she's talking about it... and it's this experience that she turned into fuel for her writing of Sol and Osha's father/daughter bond.

"There's this thing that's called benign sexism, and part of it is this paternal protectionism — it seems like this good thing, but like you said, there's this, “I have to protect you from everything. I have to make sure you're okay. I have to tell you what track to get on, and then once you're on that track, I need to support you.” Ultimately, what happens is — again, this is a father-daughter relationship — as women evolve in their lives and develop their own personalities separate from their fathers, at some point, they have to reject that protectionism. [...] She cannot stay a little girl or an adolescent or young adult. She has to, at some point, say, “I reject what you have told me I need to do to make you proud, to follow in your footsteps.” She has to do that." - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

Now... if we're talking consistency with the themes in Lucas' Star Wars, then yeah, The Acolyte misses the mark.

The Jedi Order isn't the patriarchy or the Catholic Church. They're more like Buddhist monks, George has stated so multiple times.

The Jedi teachings aren't narratively meant to be the same traits found in toxic masculinity or benign sexism.

When a Jedi tells you to be mindful of your emotions, it's not meant in the "boys don't cry" sense.

When they talk about letting go of attachments, it's not meant in a stoic "don't get emotionally involved" sense.

Anakin too, the whole point is that he's wrong, the narrative frames his fall to the Dark Side as his own fault, it's not meant to be perceived as a failure in upbringing.

But she's not the only one who does it. Filoni does it too, a majority of fans have this take on the Jedi.

And because of her experiences, I can see why her takeaway would be that. Same goes for Filoni, they're products of their generation, upbringing and experiences.

My point is:

Leslye Headland is writing from a personal place, when she's writing The Acolyte. It's partially informed by her politics because - like she quotes, "personal is political" - but when it comes to the writing of the show, it's personal first and foremost.

What this was, was a Star Wars fan (arguably the nerdiest one we've had so far, in terms of creators) putting all of herself in the creation of a show that perfectly reflects who she is and what she stands for, resulting in:

a story about growing past your father's paternal control and accepting that our guides aren't infallible,

where her wife holds a role and gets to wield a lightsaber,

a show about taking corrupt religious institutions to task

about the Sith and the Dark Side

and questioning the unquestionable

and exploring whether the good are really so good and if the bad are really so bad.

This was a project written from the heart, and regardless of whether the resulting art found its mark, I think it's important to note that it wasn't written to spread a propaganda message in some "pro-woke holy war" or whatever the hell the YouTubers are peddling.

[wosoamazing]

Too Late To Be Fair

Warnings: death (caused by drunk driver), mentions of emotional abuse (R as a child), mentions of drinking and drunks, implications of self doubt and associated things, wishing someone would die. Please let me know if anything else.

Note: Grace is a fake player, due to previous ideas and maybe future ideas I had to make a player up... she does some things none of the girls would ever do....

A/N: Story inspired by Pray (Jessie Murph) & Mansion (NF) - and other things but I listened to these songs and I was like ooo good story idea. There probs will be a part 2. I hope you like it - also I know I said one of the McFoord fics would be out next but um yeah...

“Y/N We’re sorry to inform you but your Dad was in a car accident he was hit by a drunk driver” you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, you dad the drunk being hit by a drunk driver. Everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N that’s not very appropriate,” Grace said, before others death stared her, clearly not knowing your situation, of course you were going to blow, especially at her, the thing you had wished for, for so long, finally happened, yet just after you cut him off, so it didn’t matter, it didn’t mean you could have an easier childhood, it was just another way of the universe punishing you. Waiting until you had moved out, cut your ties and in the spotlight, to finally kill him. Almost exactly a year since you cut him off, won the trial, got the restraining order, the one which he protested, causing the gruelling 3 day trial, to decide whether it was needed or not.

“Oh, sorry we don’t all have perfect little lives with perfect Mummies and Daddies, some of us actually had a shit childhood, faced real world problems, no rich bitch problems, oh Mummy and Daddy told me to pick up some rubbish, oh my life is shit they abuse me” you were dragged out of the locker room and into an empty physio room by Leah, Beth, Katie, Caitlin, and Steph who all sent you a glare when the door had shut, “Oh like she didn’t deserve it,” they all couldn’t but help let out a smile. There was an awkwardness in the room, as the girls all looked between each other not knowing how to approach this.

“You guys can all go, I’ve got this, thank you though,” Leah spoke, breaking the silence, everyone left except Beth, but Leah didn’t mind. You and Beth had a very close relationship, you had been close friends since your grassroots team, Beth helped you through the year of your life you realised you were gay, and then when you crushed on your now girlfriend, your then national Captain. Beth felt bad the year you told her about your Dad, she knew something was off but you never told anyone, barely anyone stills knows the full story, but that day Beth and you promised that you would be there for each other forever, and that was true, she had been there during your trial and so much more, and you were there for her when Dan broke up with her, Beth was really your rock and you were hers. Beth moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room, giving you both space, whilst also being there in case you needed it. 

“Are you okay?” Leah couldn't find the right words, but she knew deep down the wrong words were what you needed her to say, you weren’t going to break, and release it all otherwise.

“Of course I’m not fucking okay Leah,” you looked up at her, she hadn’t even flinch at your words, instead she pulled you in for a hug. Which caused hot angry tears to fall from your eyes “Why now, why couldn’t it have been a year ago, 3 years, hell any time after I was 12. It’s unfair, its fucking unfair,” you paused, and Leah slowly slid her back down against the wall, bringing you down with her, your legs either side of hers as you sat in her lap. Your eyes connected with her soft kind caring blue eyes, and you could see how her lips formed a soft kind reassuring smile. You broke, big fat tears streamed down your face, as you sobbed, Leah gently pulled your body forward, so you were no longer sitting up, but leaning on her, she placed your head into the crock of her neck, before moving her arm to wrap around you lower body, her other hand was placed on your back, her thumb moving up and down, as she whispered reassuring words in your ear. 

“W-why now, when I’ve already lived the hard life, when I’ve been through all that shit. When I’m already screwed up, when I already have trust issues, when I already doubt myself everyday, so much so that I do it unconsciously” you sobbed into her neck.

“I know baby, it's not fair, and it's not right. But I’m here now, and I’ve got you.”

“I-I I used to wish he would die, I used to imagine cops showing up at the door when it was later than he used to come home, them telling me and me not being upset. I used to hope he just wouldn't come back from work trips. I used to imagine people asking me why I wasn’t upset when he died. I used to think of the fact that he was an alcoholic so he wouldn't get a kidney or liver transplant, unless it was a directed donation. I had to say yes, how could I say no if I was a match, but how could I say yes. You know how fucked up you feel when you think that stuff, you know how messed up I thought I was, but that was all his doing. It's just unfair.”

___

You had calmed back down and decided to go see all the girls again, the only problem was that no one had realised what song was playing in the locker room, too deep in conversation to be aware of it.

Waking up but wishing that you don’t. It’s something that I pray you’ll never know.

A song that connected with you so deeply sent you back over the edge, and you quickly spun on your feet and speed walked away, Beth followed behind you.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking McCabe” you girlfriend yelled.

“Wha?” the room had gone quiet and attention was drawn to the music, “Oh fuck, shit, sorry, we werent listening to it, its just automatically come on. I promise, I wasn't trying to be funny, I wouldn't do anything like that to Y/N”

Leah just turned around packing your bag and hers, “Tell Jonas we’re going home.”

“Sorry” Katie yelled as Leah went down the hall.

Leah found you sitting in the middle of one of the side hallways. Beth’s arms were wrapped around you and your body was shaking.

“Come on baby, let's go home.” She said as she placed a hand on your back, Beth slowly released her arms around you, which Leah quickly replaced with hers.

_____

“What’s on your mind? I know it's something more than your Dad” your girlfriend said as she sat down on the bed next to you, legs crossed and leaning back against the headboard. You had just arrived home.

“It's stupid.” you sighed, looking away from her eyes.

“I promise you, it's not stupid, it's your feelings, and your feelings are valid” she said, voice unwavering before pulling you into her lap.

“I don't know, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” “What do you mean baby?” “I don't know, I just feel like something is going to happen, like something is going to happen and you’re going to realise that this was all a mistake and leave. You’re going to get sick of constantly being second guessed for no reason just because I’m messed up, because I don’t believe someone could actually love me this much. You’re going to get sick of me, and all my insecurities, ” she pulled your body into hers, your head finding a place in the crock of her neck, tears started to fall from your eyes, causing her neck to become wet.

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much, and I promise, there is not another shoe that will drop, we have been through so much together, we got through those 9 months together, we got through the trial together, and I promise we will get through whatever life throws at us together, forever, we will go through the highs and lows together. I love you so much, and I wouldn't want to spend my life with anyone else. I will never hurt you, I promise.” 

[unlikelypandahologram]

Reasons to ship every single version of MegOP

since Very Dumb Discourse™ exists about whether or not certain versions of this ship are valid, this is going to be THE most positive post about all versions of MegOP. refer back to this post for reasons to ship your favorite version of MegOP if anyone gets weird about it with you. now let us begin!!

G1: goofy '80s faction dads fighting each other in a denny's parking lot every week LET'S GOOO, that shit is fun as fuck. orion pax also totally had a celeb crush on megatron before megatron ruined that and shot him and his pals 😔 and there's a lot of angst you can add with megatron becoming galvatron and optimus coming back to life to see how much he's changed!

BW: it's the sheer fucking comedy gold factor of a newly minted college graduate and a terrorist dinosaur IMMEDIATELY singling each other out on a prehistoric rock and deciding to call their daily gang slap-fights the BEAST WARS, what iconic drama queens LMAOOOO. also, megatron made his final body in BM look like optimal optimus SPECIFICALLY to fuck with him, and that's just...incredible

UT: the fact that megatron CANONICALLY acted like a grieving widower over optimus after he died in armada is. amazing. never forget their absolutely insane obsession with each other that they can never EVER give up on played a direct part in unicron nearly ending the world <3

Bayverse: this is the one continuity of all fucking things that gave us the lore about megatron being prime's lord high protector. absolute galaxy brain writing from the tie-in comics. also these two would ABSOLUTELY have the messiest, nastiest, most brutal hate sex imaginable, and that's beautiful. <3

Animated: optimus being a rookie washout underdog and megatron being a super scary much older warlord is a really interesting and underrated fresh take on their dynamic! lots of fun to be had with exploring what their relationship would be like after megatron finally acknowledged him as his archnemesis, lol. also...age AND size difference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Prime: do i even need to say anything, i'm pretty sure that one flashback still of orion and megatronus being friends is responsible for birthing a million shippers for this pairing alone LMAOOOO. the bitter ex-boyfriends energy was TRULY off the charts in this show, it's a damn shame megatron never appeared in RID15

Cyberverse: same bitter ex-boyfriends energy but this time with dates at maccadams. megatron also dies encouraging optimus to beat the unhinged alternate dimension megs AAHH THE ANGST

IDW1: they're both depressed gay war criminals in this one who CONSTANTLY live in each other's heads rent-free and that's amazing, lmfao. also, megatron becoming an autobot means this is one of the VERY FEW continuities where it's not nigh impossible to figure out a way to give these two a happy ending together in fanon

IDW2: space date space date SPACE DATE. they were falling together and everything. megatron also LITERALLY tells optimus to open himself to him...to give him the matrix...yeah megs my dude i'm sure that's the ONLY thing you wanted from optimus "opening" himself. toootally positive, lol

G1 Marvel: megatron was SUPER fucking pissed and weird as shit about the time optimus died over a video game. it counts

Dreamwave: their first fight had megatron urging optimus to join him AND they disappeared together in a space bridge explosion once which is like, a fanfic-esque setup for them to be alone. also i'm pretty sure this is the continuity where optimus accidentally gave megatron a lobotomy, so...uh...potential for angst is to be had

SG: mirror universe!! evil crazy villain optimus with noble goody-goody hero megatron has so much potential for absolute chaos. bonus if you also bring in the normal versions somehow through multiverse shenanigans <3

KP: the only way this version of prime can redeem himself from the creepy underage human girl bullshit is if he gets a good hard dicking from megatron. next

Prime Wars: huge "ex-husbands go on a road trip with their disgruntled daughter" energy here. megatron also LITERALLY says "oh optimus, if only you could see me now" <3

Earthspark: again...need i say why? they're pals and working together from the get-go, what's not to ship??

Skybound: optimus literally wears megatron's arm. truly beautiful <3

TF One: it's not out yet but give it time. the entire movie is going to be about orion and d-16 being madly in love and tragically breaking up, baby!!

[sweeneydino]

Welcome to my humble abode.

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 lgbtq+ safe space.

Surprise.

Ignore the soda cans and crumbled pieces of paper, never really got the chance to clean that up.

I am proud to announce a master post that I will likely never use!

Yes, I know, very useful.

It will collect dust just like all of my other projects and dreams.

Archive of Our Own (AO3) Fanfics

Lime meets emerald[HIATUS]

Spikeangelo

The Good Father

Comics

Weapons of Hamato [1]

Alternate Universe Shenanigans

Spikeangelo AU!

Au idea | Titan

Spikeangelo Asks!

Transporters don't act like they do in Space Heroes Leo! (TSHL) [CW: BODY HORROR]

Au Idea

Mold

Weapons of Hamato

Au Idea

New Friend [Part 1]

The Good Father

Au Idea | Rat Dads in New York

Grown Up Don

Future Menace

Past Remembrance / PT.2

Paper Scales/ Little Dragons [CW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH]

LITTLE DRAGONS

Au idea | Explored

Splintering | Father's Day | Forgive me

Little Dragons | Dragons | Twin Disasters | Eldest and Youngest |Oh Fuck THEY ARE GROWING UP | Awakened Dads | Mood Ring

Himbo | Uncle Mike

New Years | January 1st

DANGER | Forms of a Monster | Trouble

Strange occurrences | Prey drive | Clear Picture | Mimicking | Stronk | Friends | Moody | Omen | Mystic Bab | Holy Shit | Honey | Buddy | Travel

Tot adventures

Actual fucking dragons | Dai | Mura & Aoi | Akai | COLORS

Fanart: 🧡 🧡 💜

A FANFIC BY @/SHYADRI ON TUMBLR AGAIN THANK YOU SMH CHECK THEM OUT PLEASE 🙏 IDK IF I SHOULD @ THEM HERE SO PLEASE LOOK THEM UP THANK YOU

Collection of other Free-to-use AUS [CW:BLOOD/GORE]

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Honestly, a lot of my stuff is free to use. Just credit me is all I ask 😌

Animations

Shelldon's Daisy

Where is the pizza, Casey?

Give Splinter a break man

TAP

Sunrise Duo, but with a little red

Mystic Bab

Posers

Side Blogs

Mostly Sanic stuff with gay hedgehogs @lintandsteal

Stuff I scraped out of the bottom of my toilet (18+ ONLY because I have 0 clue what I'll pop out on there) @trashinyourpockets

A fair warning that although I draw A LOT fluff and baby turtles, I also draw(and sometimes write) whump, a lot of angst and gore/extremly violent art(those will be properly tagged in their own post).

My joy in drawing cute stuff must be counterbalanced.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Like I know I said that I was going to stop the Izcourse but some of you guys are getting homophobic again. Imagine saying that Izzy is gayer because unrequited love is more relatable to queer people than what Ed and Stede have going on. Yes absolutely all gay people are little incels who can't take no for an answer this is absolutely true. There's no such thing as a gay couple who immediately click and the phrase lesbian U-Haul has no basis in reality and we're all just being sick creeps to people who don't want us and think of us like how they think about their abusive dad. This is true and doesn't reflect at all on you as a person for thinking it's universally relatable or on the way you think about gay people.

Like bestie I hang out in drag spaces I am telling you that these people have partners. My core friend group is all queer except for one guy. Not counting the aroace, guess which people in my core friend group are not currently engaged? If you guessed me and the straight guy you'd be correct. Gay people get so fucking laid it's unbelievable.

[nimonabigbang]

Five Ways Ballister and Nimona Never Met

Written by @space-kase

Five different universes, five different scenarios, five different ways Ballister Boldheart never met his spunky sidekick.

Art by Neth | Hugs4neth

Art by Wiz | @wizisbored

Content warnings and additional tags below the cut:

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, Gen, M/M, Multi

Fandom: Nimona (2023)

Relationships: Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart & Nimona, Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin, Gloreth/Nimona (Nimona)

Characters: Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart, Ambrosius Goldenloin, Todd Sureblade, Original Characters, The Director (Nimona), Gloreth (Nimona), Queen Valerin (Nimona)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, Infection, Infected Characters, 5+1 Things, 5 Times, Nimona Big Bang 2024, Nimona Big Bang 2024 (Nimona), Transphobia, Misgendering, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Assault, Mugging, Foster Care, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Gay Character, Adoption, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Age Reversal, Alternate Universe - Age Reversal, Amputation, Ableism, Human Experimentation, Medical Experimentation, those last two are mentioned anyway, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gay Dads AU, Trans Character, Canon Disabled Character, Alternate Universe - Animal Shifter, Dismemberment

Words: 22,419

Chapters: 6/6

[thistlecatfics]

Thistlecat Summer Fic Recs

After a bit of a fic reading drought (and some binge purchasing books), I've been finally getting back into reading fic. Here are some I've been enjoying this summer.

Wolfstar:

Come Healing by BrujaBanter (46k, E, wolfstar)

They'd never quite intended for kink to be anything more than fun. Then, Sirius went to Azkaban. He comes out a different man, and Remus wonders if they might just use kink for some other purposes as well. In the process, he does some healing of his own. OR The ways of breaking, reuniting, and healing through sex.

It's a kink porn with lots of plot fic! I'm normally so picky about Dom Remus/sub Sirius fics because they tend to go with a fanon characterization that doesn't work for me but this one *absolutely* works for me. Canon divergent with a happy ending <3

your heart is heavy and red by moon_seas (1k, E, wolfstar)

Sirius has Remus on his back moaning beneath him and it’s almost enough, almost.

Not much to say about this one except it's super hot wolfstar (c)nc and if that description interests you then you'll be into this delicious little fic.

hold you, enfold you by iamsiriuslyriddikulus (9k, E, lesbian wolfstar)

“Remus,” the woman says. “Nice to meet you… ?” It’s a nice name, Remus—one that suits her. Sirius nods and belatedly realizes she has to answer. “Sirius.” She holds Remus’s gaze with a feral intensity, hoping something in her recognizes that they are the same. - - - OR: On a summer day in the South in 2001, Sirius Black went on a campus tour of the conservative college she would attend in the fall, expecting to be bored out of her mind. No one told her the tour guide was going to be hot—brown curls and snake bites and freckles and visibly queer. She stood out against the manicured hedges, a sharp contrast to the traditional values of everyone around Sirius. What followed was one long day of sticky summer heat and a house party that changed the course of her life. Poor Evan never stood a chance.

@fvckyouimaprophet sets such an incredible immersive scene of an elite southern university and utterly sucks you in. This fic swept me up into that heady feeling of being a baby gay in queer spaces for the first time. It's like the time of your life you feel most yourself (can I show the real me??) and most conscious of your performance at the same time (I need to pretend I know what I'm doing!). Plus, lesbian Sirius is everything to me <3

Other marauders era characters/ships:

A Slow and Stopping Curve by aegle (16k, M, remadora)

Concerning Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Set during Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

Gorgeous canon-compliant Remus/Tonks.

i hope this comes back to haunt you by humanveil (29k, M, gen)

Severus Snape, from first curse to first kill. Or: The making of a Death Eater.

It's been a while since I read something Snape-centric, and this is SO good and gives such a clear through line on his character. His relationship with his mother is incredible in particular.

the tiger's lady by basketofnovas (slashmarks) (5k, T, bellamort)

In early 1974, one of Bellatrix's sisters is getting married, the other is pregnant, and Bellatrix is occupied with making sure the war escalates as planned. But a story from the Dark Lord reminds her of other concerns.

I always love @slashmarks's Bellatrix, and the portrayal of the mix of intense magical devotion and mundane domestic violence that is the bellamort relationship is particularly sharp and arresting.

Drarry & Drarry adjacent:

Way to go, Tiger by houndsinheaven (2k, G, Draco & Scorpius (& Harry))

Scorpius Malfoy's seventh birthday.

I'm not normally one for kidfic but my goodness I cried. Good dad Draco.

Closing Time by Anonymous for MaesterChill (18k, E, drarry)

Draco’s been invited to Neville’s stag party in Bristol, and he's confident he knows what to expect. There’ll be too many Gryffindors, for starters, plus a few humiliating team-building activities, some dodgy clubs, and a truly preposterous level of alcohol consumption. But… a drunken Harry Potter climbing into Draco's bed when he’s having a wank? No, he definitely didn't see that coming…

(For HD wireless, not yet revealed) This fic is so much fun! This feels quintessentially drarry to me - they all feel so young and human. For whatever reason I need all of my drarry fics to have someone to have a complicated relationship with alcohol, and this delivers!

If you have similar reading tastes and want more of my recs, check out my bookmarks and collections on ao3 <3

[matcha-milkies]

OCTOBER 14, 1977

Summary: Gravity Falls is a backwards town in more ways than one.

Alternatively: A twenty-something Ford has to listen to the ramblings of two homophobic diner patrons and it is not improving his already questionable emotional wellbeing.

Content Warnings: Homophobia

Tags: Young Ford Pines, Gay Ford Pines, Pre-Portal Incident, Greasy’s Diner, 1970s, Gay Rights, Anger, Loneliness, Estrangement, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs A Hug, Emotional Constipation

Word Count: 1,013

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: Gay pride is over. Time for gay wrath

Ford is bent over a newspaper at a booth at Greasy’s Diner, hand in his hair, pretending to be focused on the crossword. He taps his pen against the table. If he were actually paying attention he would be done with this “puzzle” in the time it takes to write the answers, but his mind is elsewhere. He picks up his coffee and sips at it tepidly, while the two truckers at the counter rattle off complaints about the state of the country around stacks of pancakes and smiley-face eggs and bacon. Every so often, words like “unbelievable” and “indecent” waft across the space. None of these are the words he needs.

5 across, four letters, unflattering rumors.

Mother. Jobs. School. Children.

5 across, four letters, unflattering rumors.

Right. Wrong. Trees. Fruits.

5 across, four letters, un…

Ford sees the waitress coming his way and flags her down. “Excuse me. Could I get…” A thought occurs to him that almost makes his mouth pull back in a guffaw. He taps his pen a little faster, reconsidering. “…do you have any banana cream pie?”

She doesn’t read the news. She takes the request at face value. “Sure thing! I’ll have it right out.” Hefting a stack of empty plates from another table, she saunters around the counter. Ford watches her leave without really watching her, head perched glumly in his hand. His mouth pulls taut again, and this time it’s in a thin, fleeting frown. The truck drivers are washing their breakfast down with a couple of glasses of orange juice. Ford fixates on the color, his mind beginning to wander as their conversation finally, finally fades to blissful background noise. He sips his coffee.

5 across…

He remembers when his father used to sit him down and explain certain universal truths about the nature of humanity. To watch out for people who would try to tell him lies. Ford had believed so wholeheartedly back then. And how easy it had been, how good it had felt, to be on the right side. The good side.

Maybe he should call his mother. Maybe there are things that she should know. Maybe if he explained them to her, and she explained them to Dad… 

He closes the newspaper. On the front page is a picture that’s supposed to be indecent. Stanley would probably find it funny. Wouldn’t he? Ford thinks about writing in the margins with a Sharpie and looking up Stanley’s address and mailing the paper to him. “Look at this. Look what happened. Isn’t this just hysterical?” That was absurd, they hadn’t spoken in years, why would he send this to Stanley?

The corner of the newspaper is pinched between his fingers and he realizes they’re trembling. Too much coffee. He stows his hands in his lap and waits for his banana cream pie. Unfortunately, somehow, this brings the truckers’ conversation back into full focus, and God, they just will not shut up. Ford has a very active imagination. In his mind’s eye he shoots out of his chair and waves the newspaper around in a half-crazed tirade and starts shouting them down with logic and common sense. He does what he knows he will also do in the shower next week and gets into a full-blown argument with himself, acting out some imaginary scene where he plays all the parts. He tenses in his seat and his fingers curl against his thighs and—

A plate clatters onto the table next to his coffee.

“One slice of banana cream pie!” the waitress chirps. “Can I get anything else for ya?”

“Uh,” Ford says, blinking. “No. Um. No. Thank you.”

“Alright then, enjoy!” She smiles and walks away again. He picks up his fork and just stares at the thing, like he’s going to somehow consume it with his eyeballs. That’s an odd mental image.

It’s a very tasty-looking pie. The white cream on top looks light as a cloud, the crust is golden and crumbly. He can’t remember the last time he treated himself to something like this. Of course, one cannot have the thing and eat it too. He frowns, side-eying the truckers not for the first time. They’re laughing and nudging each other, maybe at someone else’s expense.

He gets up from the cushioned seat, plate in hand. He realizes his hand is still shaking. Too much coffee. Is he really about to do this? His feet move without his permission, one after the other, oh my god I’m actually doing this. He slips into the seat right next to the truckers, an odd smile on his lips. He leans over like one of them is about to tell a joke and he wants to hear it. The two of them stutter and eye him with mostly confusion. The plate lifts in Ford’s hand, heavy at first and then suddenly weightless as momentum builds. He pushes it into the nearest truck driver’s face, and it smears white chunks all over from his dark eyebrows down to his beard.

“Hey!” shouts the other one, shooting up from his seat and knocking the stool over in the process. Ford somehow can’t bring himself to care. He’s doubled over laughing, and he can’t stop, clutching his sides, giving himself stitches, practically suffocating. The first trucker, the one who got hit, is in shock, picking sugary bits of pie out of his beard, more confusion than confection smeared across his face.

Ford wakes from the daydream. He’s still seated at his booth, his pie still sitting neatly in front of him. The truckers are still blabbing on, although they’ve moved on from talk of the press conference. Maybe they did a long time ago. The moment passes. He doesn’t want to get banned from the diner is all.

Still, Stanley would have done it.

What an absurd thought to have. Stanley would never be here.

Ford stabs his fork into his pie and eats it, and to be fair, he does enjoy it very much, although maybe he would’ve enjoyed having it a little more.

A/N: I wrote this to work out some frustration I’ve been feeling lately with gay acceptance, which is better than it used to be but I still encounter people online comparing it to alcoholism which almost makes ME want to dive headfirst into alcoholism so

It was either this or smash mailboxes with a baseball bat

[skaiplana]

Read Harrow the Ninth. Went insaner. Read As Yet Unsent. Shitpost and thoughts:

- God's name is John. He makes dad jokes.

- I am glad this is a universe where God can be: a) killed b) fucked. We have empirical evidence

- on that note, let's do dios apate minor three but make it a foursome with me baby. Let me get that ancient pussy and/or dick

- rip Mercymorn that woman served cunt was a cunt and talked!! In an amazing! Way!! Do you think she would fix my scoliosis?

- rip Augustine he was a cunt too. Trying to send god to hell is iconic. Of course Ianthe would kill him.

- Mercy and Augustine... they hated each other. They worked together to kill god. They had a suicide pact. They wanted to be burried next to each other. They died only a few minutes apart.

- Ianthe that gay little pathetic snake.

- CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN THE 'GALL ON GALL' JOKE I DONT GET IT

- GIDEON (2) IS BACK!!! NOW WITH MORE FUCKED UP PARENTAL ISSUES!!!

- is Gideon (2) biologically Mercy's or Wake's kid? I thought she was Wake's because everything Mercy made died but I've seen some people say otherwise

- so like. Wake is evil virgin Mary. Gideon (2) is space lesbian Jesus.

- Gideon (1) is OUT, Pyrra is IN! What that entails I do not know but she seems cooler than him

- how do you get in affair with a commander of your enemy. How do you not use a condom or like kill your sperm. Why were you afraid it's your kid Gideon (Pyrra?).

- when John asked if Harrow and Ianthe are using protection what did he mean. Is he implying that there is a possibility of pregnancy? Is he concerned about infections and stds? They could just cure those? Is he saying that there are like dental dams somewhere on mithraeum

- Harrow. What can I say? She did a diy lobotomy. She's haunted. Every woman wants her. She's in love with a dead body. She made a soup out of her own bone and tried to murder someone with it. I want to hug her

- yk I'm starting to think that the Emperor Undying is a wretched liar a dick and a colonizer. Just a hunch.

- now I don't believe anything he's ever said and I'm thinking that Harrow probably did open the tomb

- Camilla is alive and well!!! Sex Pal is almost alive an fairly well!! Can we get him out of the bones

- Coronabeth is realizing how fucked up the nine houses are! Deuteros is not!

- Abigail!!! Magnus!!! I'm glad I got to see more of them. Abigail is actually so cool I want them to adopt me

- the actual Dulcinea! She's so cool too

- the alive Protesilaus being a poet udhdhehhehe and Ortus having internal beef with him

- Ortus is an interesting person now! Also the way everyone likes his poetry except for Harrow is peak comedy

- they actually summoned Nonius. Then he killed ghost Wake. Then they made a dnd party and went to to fight the Resurrection Beast and they WON I guess. These series is a comedy

- I actually understood everything most of the time except for some obscure words (please explain gall on gall tho)

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Round 2: Steven Universe (Steven Universe) vs. Jason Todd (DC)

Propaganda below the cut

Steven Universe:

Fandom just hates him. He's literally just some kid who is super compassionate and loving and tries to see the best in everyone and the fandom is like HE FORGAVE SPACE FASCISTS!!! (He ain't even like them he just had to get them to stop killing people somehow)

Jason Todd:

Robin, Jason Todd, THE hated child character. In the 1980s, Batman comics had become increasingly dark and gritty. According to editor O'Neil himself, the courted audience wasn't kids but 19-40 year old men with disposable income. Batman's child sidekick, Robin, was offensively campy and childish. Fans called him wimpy, annoying, dumb, bratty, etc. Also people complained that Batman acting like an affectionate dad was unmanly and gay. Robin acts violent and emotional and people are like "ew he's so childish and emotional"—and then Batman literally acts just as murderously and emotionally within literally the same exact story and people are like "wow he's so dark and tortured". So in 1988 (after brutalizing Batgirl to get rid of her for being too bright and nice and kid-friendly), DC held a paid poll for fans to vote for Robin to live or die. O'Neil claims he heard a fan (a grown man with a dayjob as a lawyer) programmed a phone to spam kill votes. One fanguy claimed that he sold his Mercedes to buy kill votes (probably an exaggeration but still). By less than 1% margin, the vote decided to kill Robin in a spectacularly violent way. Anyway the 1989 Batman movie brought in a huge wave of new child comicbook fans who liked the new Robin (a very cool teenage high school Robin with a driver's license and a girlfriend), and DC started a separate Robin-less Batman series called Legends of the Dark Knight to make the anti-Robin writers and fans happy. But to this day, many fans agree it was a good idea to kill off the other Robin so that his foolish death reminds other characters to never be childish and stupid again. Bonus: the current Robin (usually a traumatized 10-year-old) has also been facing some pretty loud hatred for over 15 years.

[wolfpants]

Tucked between a greasy spoon caf and an empty retail space with boarded-up windows, Chariot Books makes absolutely no secret of the fact it’s a gay bookshop. It’s small, but mighty; Sirius and his business partner Fabian have only had it for a couple of years, and before then, their business had run out of both their flats, a mail order service that kept Sirius’s home stuffed full of boxes and paperwork. A clandestine but well-oiled machine, Harry always thought. Sirius took great pride in it too, always seemed to be working, always seemed to be taking delivery of a new title or import from San Francisco or somewhere else Harry has never been to.

Harry still remembers the day they opened, this tiny shop with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, wire rotating stands full of paperbacks, posters and notices tacked to the walls wherever there’s space, advertising everything from poetry readings to weekly interest group meetings to helpline and crisis information.

A riot of colour. A riot of community.

Back then, Harry had been fresh out of secondary school in the suburbs, wandering aimlessly toward UCL and a psychology degree he’s still not entirely sure he wants, two years down the line.

He’d gotten the train to London with his dad. A multipurpose visit: to catch up with his godfather, his dad’s oldest friend, and to visit the halls of residence for university because his dad wanted to sus them out before committing.

Nothing like my place at Cambridge, he’d said with an approving, delighted laugh as they looked around the common room together with its vending machines full of pop and crisps and sweets, and the groups of casually dressed kids listening to American pop music on a portable record player set up on one of the plastic dining tables. And later that night, before they went back home to Surrey, the launch party for the shop: Harry staring up at the pink triangle on the sign above the door and feeling a huge sense of pride and admiration for his favourite relative in the world, who had finally made it all happen, after all those years.

--

Today I got to visit one of my favourite bookshops in the world - Gay's The Word - the shop Chariot Books in Pages of You is based. It's a gem of a place, rich with history, with an amazing stock of LGBTQ literature, erotica, and nonfiction. I spent an enormous amount of time researching its history for this fic, my first ever Drarry fic. I haven't been back since before I even conceived that fic, so getting to browse the shelves today was amazing for me! So joyous to see places like this stand the test of time and display their legacy so proudly.

[gatheringbones]

something something after visiting my new doctor yesterday and thinking about roxanne gay and interpersonal conflicts I’ve had before and will inevitably have again: my background horrifies people, and that horror places me on a pedestal. and the pedestal isn’t really about me. the focus for the person placing me there is the difference between our heights and spacing. I exist on that pedestal to compare themselves to, to play out narratives with, to order the universe with. All those things happened to me (X), which proves (Y)— about themselves, me, their dad, their pastor, their society, their moral hierarchy, you name it. and that thing Roxanne gay said about how survivors will use the stories of other survivors to invalidate their own experiences. my best friend who married the abusive failed pastor thinking she wasn’t abused by her parents that badly because of how she compared her experience to mine. and also the people I know who think they can’t possibly have or don’t deserve to have the mental health struggles they’re experiencing because of how their experiences compare to mine. and also my new doctor sitting across from me like I was an unexploded bomb she could set off at any moment. the things I must be because xyz happened and what this means about Them, which has very little to do with the real person(s) inhabiting my body who relate to my experiences in ways they remain entirely uncurious about. pathologization as a technological process.

[maximotts]

𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚠𝚘; 𝙰 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝

a/n: Wanda, you sweet baby bean, I'm sorry people suck. That's all I've gotta say about this chapter uhm... please don't yell at me too much, I promise it's all going to be So Fine

✎— priest's daughter!Wanda x college student!reader

✎— confessions AU; a surprise over lunch leads you to spend a lot more time with Wanda. You like her and she does as well, but not everyone is happy about your new friend

✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; I've said before since turning this into a series we're going to have a slower, more subtle corruption kink so: mentions of handsiness/groping, Wanda being a shy yearning gay, R being a terrible student, bullying, jealousy, Wanda shedding a tear because my friends seem to think I need to make that a warning

✎— words: 5.5k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

Even with your lunch offer, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to let you do all the work; after picking up sandwiches from her favorite deli, she directed you down the block to her -and apparently, your- apartment building. When realization set in, the two of you had a laugh until you suggested going to your unit. 

“You’re serious?”

“What, afraid I’m luring you into my apartment to have my way with you?” Wanda didn’t respond to that, just shook her head as you quickly discovered she did whenever she was talking herself out of a thought. Oh what you’d give to see what was running through that imagination. “Such a good girl, not trusting strangers, but I don’t bite, I promise. We can go to yours instead?” 

She had to have told you her apartment number along the way because you’d gotten there with ease, guiding her down the hall with a hand on her back, but two simple words made her forget the whole walk. Wanda was a good kid, an amazing student, she’d heard words of encouragement so many times over the years— none of it affected her how it had earlier. 

If you noticed her nerves, you were gracious enough not to point them out even as she carelessly dropped her bag to the floor and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door tight. Wanda calmed herself with a splash of water and a quick talking to, reminding to keep it together. This wasn’t a date, it wasn’t anything, it was lunch. All this meant was you were a decent enough human not to stoop to the level of an overgrown schoolyard bully and feeling bad doesn’t make them a friend. Certainly didn’t mean she had a chance with you. 

That rationale didn’t stop her from talking out her nerves in the form of oversharing.

From that, you learned a lot about Wanda. She’s a twin, the younger one as her brother Pietro so often loved to remind her. They were close, but when it came time to choose colleges, he decided on another university in the next state over— mostly because of a very generous track scholarship he was offered. She nearly went with him, wanting to take advantage of their massive literature program, but their father said it’d break his heart if both of them left and Wanda, darling daughter that she is, caved and attended a more local school. 

Part of her compromise was being allowed her apartment. Leaving home to live off-campus by herself was an instant no, but for once, Wanda pushed. It was around the same cost of any room and board fees and she had the freedom she insisted on having. Partially to live away from home, but mostly because the possibility of rooming with one of her childhood enemies was high and she’d rather go without college than deal with that stress.

“I raised such a fuss that night, Pietro thought I’d lost my mind. It’s worth it, I think. I like it here.” Here in what turned out to be your shared building, blaming different schedules on why you’d never run into the other. In the end, her dad could rarely hold firm against Wanda’s puppy dog eyes and constant pleas and she won the small space now filled with various plants and cozy furnishings.

“Well, I for one, am very happy to find out the cute girl I’ve been wanting to talk to only lives a few floors away.” You said it so casually, like it was easy as chewing your ham and cheese sandwich to call her cute. It wasn’t helping that she’s just being nice mantra Wanda had going in her head to keep her calm.

While you ate, Wanda searched for any other reason you’d be so flirtatious and came up empty. Still, she couldn’t discount her inexperience for how she perceived your wanting to have lunch, your compliments, even the comment about asking her to dinner could’ve just been a passing joke she hung on to too seriously. She’d never been allowed to date, not that it mattered with how she got treated like the plague, and she didn’t know the first thing about well, anything. Somehow Pietro fared much better in that sense, sneaking out and rebelling any chance he could. 

Some nights when she couldn’t sleep, Wanda would catch him stumbling out of the woods that bordered their backyard and tired as she was, helped him climb through the window, questioning him all the while about his disheveled clothes and the glittery lip gloss smeared along his neck. “Stop being dad’s golden child and maybe you’ll find out one day.” Wanda never was bold enough to try nor did she like the options to try with. None of her classmates were interesting enough to be worth getting in trouble for.

The few times she did go out, the situation got the better of her and she had more anxiety than rowdiness. Wanda tried, really she did, there was just so much to remember: how to drink, who to drink with, the perfect things to say and no matter what, she always came up short. Then came that dreadful night after junior prom; her fatal mistake— distressed to the point of tears, Wanda called her father to pick her up, not thinking how not parent-approved the activities swirling around were. His appearance and the subsequent adult discourse at church the next morning solidified her status as Westview’s pious snitch. Ultimately, as much as she hated talking about it, even after Pietro took her side and offered to take matters into his own hands, she didn’t regret it for one day.

Opportunities to act out quickly dropped to zero after that incident. College was supposed to be better, new people and new surroundings, maybe a whole new her if she could figure out how to upgrade, but the proximity to her hometown made the past three years an extended high school. And then, there you were, shiny and brand new, straight out of her prayers— but they got to you first. 

Wanda resigned herself to staring at you in class, watching you text under the table with Carol Danvers who’d given you her number almost as soon as you’d first sat in your chair. If you’d been in the front of the class, she’d have slipped you her number instead; that’s what she told herself at least. Everyone else was too fast and forward, and Wanda didn’t stand a chance when everyone’s classes overlapped as much as they did. Each time Wanda caught you looking back at her, she turned away so fast she missed your smile or the silent waves you tried sending her way, too afraid to see if you’d regard her with the same disdain your new acquaintances offered. 

There weren’t a lot of people in class today; the middle of the semester meant burn out was creeping in, students skipped more now, but you were there in your usual spot, empty seats all around. If you weren’t always cutting your arrival so short, Wanda could’ve moved next to you, but class began and, not wanting to disrupt, she stayed put. Those next ninety minutes were the most distracted she’d been her entire college career, solidifying exactly how she’d introduce herself, act cool and collected while she gave you her handwritten phone number, written and rejected countless times over so Wanda could draw the little heart at the end just right. She’d been so close too, just feet away from your desk; Brock always had a way of ruining even her best laid plans.

“Earth to Wanda, where’d you go?”

“Huh?” The poor girl had been staring much too intently at her crumpled sandwich wrapper for the last few minutes, having decided she wasn’t listening when she didn’t react after your suggestion to run away and buy an RV. Wanda was adorable when she zoned off, playing with her rings absentmindedly and spinning them around her fingers, but you did wonder where she flew off to. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Clearly…” Gathering any lingering trash gave Wanda a task away from your watchful gaze, wiping off the table with another mumbled apology before skipping off to the kitchen. She took a deep breath, steadying herself against what to do now that she’d gotten this far. Her plan only went as far as exchanging phone numbers, maybe putting the digits in your phone if she was brave enough, but you’d skipped that stage and gotten straight to the apartment hangouts and she was… lost. 

Luckily for Wanda, you had no problem taking charge. The moment she returned to the living room, you took hold of her arm and pulled her down until she was finally sitting right next to you instead of her far off spot. All of lunch she’d been far away and selfishly, you missed how close you’d been when you walked earlier. Now with Wanda’s thigh brushing against yours, you could see each one of her little reactions intimately. “What’s going on in that head?”

“I was thinking about earlier and got carried away, nothing important.” Wanda shook her head again, hoping to settle at least a fraction of the blush that’d overtaken her face, but when she tried to pull her hand away from yours, you held tight. As much as she loved the feeling of your warm, steady hand wrapped around her cold and shaky one, Wanda feared growing too used to it too fast and having to fight not seeking out your touch from then on.

“If it’s got you this frazzled, it’s gotta be some kind of important. You can tell me, I promise.” You almost wondered aloud who you’d tell, but she didn’t need to be reminded of who you talked to. Not that you’d ever say anything, no, mostly you just wanted to see Wanda all sweet and flustered, committing the sight to memory on the off chance she kept her distance after today. 

She stared hard, judging your sincerity before deciding whether or not she’d lie or divulge the truth. Unpracticed as she was with this, Wanda wasn’t an idiot; this afternoon was nice, but she couldn’t blurt out her crush only a few hours after your first official meeting. She could tell half-truths, thoughts buzzing in her brain that ranked lower on the exposure scale to hopefully not scare you away. “Well.. you know how I tried talking to you in class?” 

You nodded, politely letting her continue, and Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, trying painfully hard not to think about your thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. It was a small gesture, obviously, but it meant everything to Wanda who’d never been on the receiving end of such gentle reassurance. “I’d been waiting to do that since the first week of class.”

So you weren’t imagining her sneaking glances at each class; good to know you could still sense when someone was into you. Most girls tended to talk way before Wanda did and you started wondering if your attraction to her made her small acknowledgments into something a lot bigger than it actually was. “Why didn’t you?”

“Someone else always got there first.” The truth was embarrassing. As isolated as Wanda had been, she didn’t actively dislike most of her peers. It was that one particular group you hung out with that seemed to go out of their way to not only make Wanda’s life hell, but also warn anyone they possibly could away from ever giving her a chance. She grew up being taught hateful behavior only bred more hate, that it wasn’t polite or productive, but if there was anyone she hated, it was them.

When she saw you with Brock and Carol and the rest of their tiring friend group, she nearly cursed aloud, strangely mad that of all the transfers, they had to get you too— it wasn’t fair. In her defense, Wanda gave ignoring you a good, honest try, but every time she saw you wander through the door, she wanted to be the one who waved you over, who sat with you and leaned in close or put a flirtatious little kiss on your cheek. “You seemed..busy.” 

Finally, once the jealousy threatened to consume her alive, she did change course, ignoring you wasn’t working so why not try talking? Worst case scenario, you tell her to shoo or get lost; painful, but nothing she hadn’t heard before. When she heard Brock talking about her, the brunette swore she felt her heart drop into her stomach, any hope she had of possibly getting close to you just… dashed in an instant. She had to pack her stuff quickly, not because she was afraid, but because she felt so embarrassed she knew she’d cry if she heard another word of that conversation. 

“I’m not stupid, I know they talk about me. They don’t really try to hide how they feel.” Wanda’s laugh held a bitter edge, laced with the defeat of someone who knew what to expect when trying to make new friends. “I just- I didn’t want to interfere or get you involved with any of their weird… whatever and.. I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it’d go over well to talk to you when you’re already friends with them.”

At first you laughed, disbelieving Wanda could ever think you were off limits just because you’d spent a month or so interacting with people who, admittedly, weren’t the greatest, but one look at Wanda’s troubled face showed she was all too serious. “I can talk to more than one person, you know!” 

You weren’t the type to blindly follow everything someone said, preferring to make your own judgements, and after a few hours with Wanda you could tell that, just as expected, she truly wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be. Shy and reserved, sure, but you couldn’t count those as bad qualities. Not when she was just as gentle, funny, and kind as you’d imagined she’d be. 

“It’s always more than just one person talking or inviting you somewhere or shoving their phone in your face asking you to text them…” The last part was mumbled, but you caught it all the same. Her earlier confirmed watching combined with that last comment had the last piece sliding into place so perfectly in your head, you’re sure you heard a snap. 

Wanda didn’t just want to say hi, she wanted what she saw; flirtatious texts, low-spoken promises of naughty after class activities— not that Wanda knew that’s what she was asking for. Sweet thing… you’d show her how it all worked.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You beckoned her closer with a finger and she leant in with innocent curiosity, shivering as you came to whisper in her ear. “I’d rather text you so I’d like your number, if you don’t mind.”

It was the truth; sure you messed around with one of two girls since being here, but none of them stopped you wanting the darling girl in front of you. The longer you sat with her, the more you wanted to know and not just to sleep with her. Not that Wanda would probably let you right away; she didn’t have to say it for you to know she was virginal as a little lamb.

Your lips brushed against her cheek, the barest hint of a kiss, but it stunned Wanda all the same. She pulled back, searching for her phone much more intently than needed to play off how affected she really was. “Does that mean you want to have lunch again?”

“I want to do a lot more than just have lunch with you but..” Eventually you gave Wanda your own phone to give the poor girl something to do where she was not so subtly scrambling. When she handed you hers, you punched your number in and as she took it back, you watched her sign your name off with a set of hearts. How precious. “Yes, if you want to?”

Wanda agreed perhaps a little too eagerly, but she couldn’t stop herself planning your next lunch date complete with food she made herself. She really hoped you liked homemade things. “Absolutely!”

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

And so it went like that for the following weeks, walking around campus with Wanda and having lunch together when you were both free, going to her apartment multiple times a week to collaborate on school things or just to talk to her. Whatever you were doing, Wanda was a pleasure to be around and she never complained when you copied her answers on homework or came over just to lay on her couch and watch movies.

For Wanda’s part, she might as well have been in heaven; having someone to spend time with regularly was nicer than she remembered. Of course, growing up, she had Pietro, but this was different. You made her laugh just as much as he did, but you didn’t torment her nearly as much, and the big difference, obviously, was that she most certainly did not want to kiss her brother. 

When she showed up to your apartment door with a box of heart-shaped sandwiches, she felt silly, but the moment your face lit up when you laid eyes on them… she wanted to drop the food and kiss you until you fell to the floor.

But she’d always wanted her first kiss to be special, memorable and at least pleasant; it couldn’t be over a stupid sandwich in a doorway. So Wanda waited until.. well, until she felt the time was right to politely ask.

You made her nervous, not in the frightened way others had, but with a giddy, butterflies in her stomach feeling that left Wanda always wanting more. If you’d asked Wanda a few months ago, she’d say her ideal romance was to be blissfully swept off her feet like she’d seen in movies, brought flowers, chocolates, and lovingly courted until she finally says yes— meeting you through all of that out her balcony window. For the first time in her life, Wanda wanted what she’d seen her peers get ever since hormones descended over her sixth grade class. She craved casually possessive hugs and touches, that anticipated first kiss… special private time she’d stumbled upon during late-night internet browsing.

The first one thankfully Wanda didn’t have to wait for. 

Startling as it was the next day when you not only walked with Wanda to class, but traded your spot in the back of the class to coax her to sit off to the side, she didn’t complain. How could she when you insisted sitting next to her made class more bearable; whether it was true or not, Wanda couldn’t know, but she didn’t care, the compliment made her blush every time.

A chair next to the top student should’ve meant you paid more attention, but it was the opposite. Before you’d watched Wanda from afar, now with her close, you couldn’t help but stare longer, much more intrigued with how she bit her tongue whenever she concentrated than anything your professors taught. 

Even more since you’d begun vying for her attention during class, Wanda liked to ask questions of them after lectures were done, getting clarification for anything she couldn’t pick up in the discussion. Jokingly, you called her a nerd, but you took her notes to study from all the same so you figured the least you could do was hang back and wait for her— the perfect opportunity for Carol to strike up a conversation. 

“She wheeled you right on in, didn’t she?” The blonde also went to school with Wanda and while she wasn’t ever directly antagonistic towards your new friend, she’d never made an effort to include her either. To you Carol was nice enough; if you were being honest, you hadn’t given it much thought whenever you fell into bed with her.

Hanging out with Wanda meant abandoning your typical seat next to Carol in your Wednesday morning class and while you missed her sharp banter and the silly drawings she snuck in the corners of your notebooks, nothing beat sliding your arm around Wanda and toying with her skirt under the desk. She didn’t fully know what you were up to, grew squirmy as she felt the room’s chill on her thighs, but even when you pinched at her hips, Wanda didn’t want to cause a class disruption by protesting. 

Not that you and Carol hadn’t done the same, but Wanda’s reactions were so pure and sweet, just like her. Carol was fun, but Wanda was something else entirely and you actually wanted to get to know her. The brunette was easy to be around in a way you couldn’t remember experiencing and where Wanda didn’t go out of her way to mention your first friend group, you didn’t miss the judgemental looks Carol shot Wanda’s way whether the brunette’s back was turned or not.  “It’s easy when you’re not an asshole. Try it sometime.”

She brushed off your comment, sliding further in your line of sight until she blocked your view of Wanda at the podium. What you two shared might’ve not been serious, but losing your situationship to someone like Wanda was an ego hit Carol refused to believe was actually real. “I’m having a party on Saturday. You’re coming.” 

“Guess I’ll cancel my plans…” The singular party of Carol’s you’d been to was a riot. Admittedly, you didn’t remember much besides large hits from shared pre-rolls and waking up in her bed the next morning with a pleasurable ache between your legs, but even after stumbling back to your apartment with a throbbing headache, you were more than excited at the prospect of going to another. Coincidentally, that particularly reckless night was days before you first talked to Wanda and now, only a few weeks later, you hesitated. 

“Is anyone invited?” You searched over Carol’s shoulder to find Wanda still chatting away, dutifully scribbling down something your professor was referring to. You couldn’t imagine she’d be upset if you went at all; Wanda might even appreciate a Saturday night to herself after you’d wormed your way into her plans week after week. It was you who didn’t want to go to the party without her.

Both of you knew the singular ‘anyone’ you were referring to, and Carol’s expression soured. “I said I’m having a party, not bible study.” 

Sam walked over then, the large guy you’d met at orientation having also made fast friends with the people who threw the best after hours get-togethers. He was nice enough, louder than his roommate Steve, but always a fun time. “Come on, Danvers, she can’t be that bad. Besides, isn’t her dad like, an hour away now?” 

Word really did travel fast on this campus. Even new kids retained personal facts about the girl who didn’t know the first thing about them, but Sam was another one who hadn’t bought into the group verdict on Wanda and for that, you were grateful. If you did bring Wanda along, you thankfully wouldn’t be the only one looking out for her. Not that you planned on letting her out of your sight. “I doubt she’d call the police.”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d want to chance.” She wouldn’t get grounded like she had back in high school, but violating the lease on the house she and her friends rented wasn’t in the cards either. Catching sight of Wanda making her way back over to where the three of you gathered, she nudged your shoulder and you felt a heavy lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted was to be caught talking about her, much less make her believe you were plotting anything malicious. 

Carol was well aware of your growing soft spot in the past few weeks, taking note how you instantly shifted focus away from Wanda whenever someone dared bring her up in your presence; it’d almost be sweet if she didn’t hate her. And so, instead of cutting the chat short, Carol waited until she was sure Wanda was within earshot, “If she ruins anything, it’s on you.” 

Wanda, reticent as she was, strolled right up to you with a smile, but your stunned face made her brow furrow. She knew she’d been the topic of conversation, both having caught the tail end of Carol’s conditions and gauging the apprehension you regarded her with. 

“Look who it is, missionary of the hour…” Carol mumbled, Sam only getting a fraction of his snicker out before you shut him up with a warning glare. 

With a nervous breath, you tried playing it off, but the blonde’s icy temperament was impossible to mask, “We were just talking about this thing Carol’s got going on Saturday, but it’s a party so…”

Wanda nodded, ignoring the other woman completely, which only made her stew further. Honestly whatever was said wouldn’t be anything new; she did have a terrible reputation for disrupting parties and she was far past expecting to be wanted there. The hesitation didn’t bother her, but Carol did; if she could come out on top just once, she’d die happy. 

So this time, instead of being forced to watch Carol flirt with you and exchange texts in class, Wanda was the one who’d spent hours getting to know you and the last lecture blushing through your teasing, pushing you away when you got too handsy, giggling into her hands when you told her something especially funny; she knew, on some undescribed level, you liked her better. 

Maybe that’s where the confidence to link her arm with yours and press a chaste kiss into your temple stemmed from, “Well, I love parties! We have to go!”

If your eyes weren’t already wide enough to fall out of your head, they certainly were now. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, darting between the two of you while Sam, loud as ever, laughed at the clear and present tension between the two women on either side of you. “Last thing: Don’t let her wear anything like…” Carol gestured to Wanda, dressed in a light floral dress and one of her favorite cozy sweaters, “that. I’m not having a church social.”

Wanda’s grip loosened at the insult, brief confidence struck down as fast as it’d come, but you didn’t let her fall away completely, winding your arms around her midsection. “I told her she should wear this sweater today. But don’t worry, she’ll look even cuter than she normally does.” Scooting the stunned girl closer until she was snug between your legs, you kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze of reassurance. 

When Wanda didn’t move a singular muscle, shoulders still slumped, you wished there was a hug tight enough to say I’m sorry I let them hurt you again. “See you Saturday!”

You never did thrive amidst conflict, preferring to sit back and let any drama go by far away from you, but it wasn’t fair staying silent when Wanda could barely stand up for herself. Whether it was your defense of Wanda’s outfit choice or your protective hold you kept, your defense was enough to get Carol to roll her eyes and back off for now, “Fine whatever, I’ll text you the details later.” 

Sam left you with a pat on the back, shaking his head at the tension he happened to stumble in on and couldn’t wait to tell Steve and Bucky, “Way to stand up for your girl, kiddo, well done.”

“Don’t call me kiddo! You’re maybe six months older than me, and she’s not my— fuck, whatever.” He was jogging out the door before you could correct him, but you dropped your arms anyway and Wanda tried to ignore the loss she felt. She longed to admit she needed at minimum five more minutes of that hug to truly keep her tears at bay, but she couldn’t ask. 

It was bad enough you had to lie about picking her sweater; Wanda threw it on not only because it kept her warm in the often chilly lecture halls, but Pietro bought it for her years ago for her birthday and the familiar fabric kept her calm. She wore the sweater and her current dress often enough for the outfit to be considered a wardrobe staple, Carol saw it constantly; there was no way she didn’t know how pointed her insult was. “Sorry about that…”

Wanda half expected you to run after Carol, trying to smooth things over with her for the sake of preserving whatever you two had that Wanda threatened. Instead she found her hand loosely caught in yours, thumb rubbing over it just as you had the first day she shared her anxieties, and when dim green eyes traveled from your touch to your face, she saw concern so genuine Wanda wanted to fall back into your arms and sob. Not only for herself, but for you and how much of a burden she feared she was already becoming. Her family always dubbed her the crybaby and she couldn’t deny it; of the three of them, Wanda was the first to let her eyes go watery. The only thing worse than dealing with what you’d just witnessed would be having to console the crying mess of your new friend.

But you wouldn’t have minded, not one bit. “Don’t apologize when you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s not fair,”  You spotted her frown and longed to ask her what you could do to help, but as soon as you opened your mouth, Wanda pulled away.

She was quick to replace her sad expression with another smile, pushing your forgotten books into your now empty hands. If you didn’t watch her so much, the sudden change wouldn’t mean anything, but the smile she was trying so hard to pass off didn’t reach her eyes— it wasn’t real. “You’re going to be late for class again, get moving.” 

“Well yeah, but…” Clearly, Wanda was deflecting again, you’d be a fool to miss the nervous way she hugged herself tight as if she could hide the knee length dress she’d walked out of her apartment in so happily just hours ago. Choosing the sweater wasn’t a lie, but what you thought about her look wasn’t; Wanda dressed in a comfortable yet sweet style you found wholly endearing. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean for all that to happen, I only wanted to ask if I could bring you along.”

The brunette scoffed loudly and in the interest of not making the situation any worse, you ignored how her voice cracked, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Right okay, I just- I’ll see you later then? If you’re up for it?” If Wanda didn’t want to talk about it now, maybe this afternoon she’d be up to discuss and unfortunately, she was right. You only had about ten minutes now to rush across the courtyard to your next lecture; no time to argue with her. It was too early in the semester to routinely skip all of your classes.

Wanda joined you to the door, hands tight around her backpack strap. The walk was short, too short; you hated leaving her to fend for herself when she was obviously still upset. You’d make it up to her later, maybe ask her favorite movie and bring over pizza to watch it with her. For now, resolved to be on time, you left her with a hurried wave and a clumsy sprint that admittedly did make her chuckle just a little, “You know where to find me!” 

With you gone, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and Wanda wiped them away with the knit sleeve of the sweater she couldn’t stand wearing right now. It was too cold out to only have her shoulders exposed, but she tore it off anyways, bundling it as small as she could in her clammy palms. 

She walked briskly, destination clear, but for once, she wasn’t going home. Any other time, Wanda would’ve been polite enough to text ahead and assure she was welcome, but the harder it got to hold back a full cry, the less she worried about etiquette. If anyone could tell her what to do, how to proceed, anything… it was them. 

From the class schedules they’d shared with her at the beginning of the year, they should be in; Wanda hoped their ‘you’re welcome whenever you want some company, no questions asked’ sentiment held true just this once.

The route home seemed endless, late summer breezes stinging her blotched cheeks; she looked a mess and she knew it, her frazzled appearance driving her to practically run down her apartment floor hall. Wanda knocked on the door just a few doors down from her own, the one she hated to bother but loved being in all the same, “I know it’s the middle of the day, but I really need your help, please?”

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1, bracket two

Propaganda:

For Dave:

(tw meteors and child abuse) after being cloned by his best friend, dave is sent on a meteor to earth (with a pony), where he is found by his "bro" (actually kind of his dad). bro proceeds to SPEND THE NEXT 13 YEARS OF DAVES LIFE beating the everloving shit out of him, and also teaching him the use of the blade. as a result dave becomes very good at strifing, and his strife specibus is swordkind (basically he is Assigned Sword By Universe-Destroying Game). he goes to space and meets aliens and has a bisexual crisis! yeah thats right the blond guy with sword symbolism is BISEXUAL we keep on winning and dave deserves to win this poll too

his swords are sharp and awesome and are swords. 

Dave uses Multiple swords throughout canon. Starts with a katana, switches to a broad sword, and alchemizes multiple variations of said broadsword! Not to mention his entire story arc is about coming into himself and that includes into his sexuality. Bisexual Dave truther for the win  

Bi and gay sibling solidarity 

For Ahsoka:

Girl weilds not one but TWO lightsabers! Look at her go! I know a lot of her fans headcanon her as LGBTQ, especially cuz there's some episodes (especially episodes 5-8 of season 7) where her interactions with other women really give off those vibes. Anyway, back to her swordiness - she kicked Maul's robotic ass even tho he's older and has more experience than her, she demolishes the Inquisitors when she's older in Rebels, and just. Her cute little tricks and quips! I love her.

[fuckyeahnickburkhardt]

headcanon, monroe is one of those parents who hears that one of their kids is trying to get into a new hobby or wants to get into a new hobby, and he instantly goes to the store and buys EVERYTHING even mildly associated with it for the kid.

"hey dad, ive been kinda thinking about getting into crochet." and then they go to school, come back, and their room is full of yarn, hooks of every size and shape, needles, poly-fil, and even random items that the crochet-masters he bugged at the store recommended to him (headlamps and stuff).

he'd also be the best parent for lgbt kids. specifically trans kids. he'd be looking up shit constantly, asking pronouns and new names, buying stuff with flag colors, and wogeing in transphobic peoples faces. rosalee would be awesome too, but would be calmer about it.

Yes! I love this and it's so in-character for him!

Of the blutbau triplets (which we have some blog headcanons for if you're new here! that I'm about to add to lol), Felix comes out as gay when he's in 10th grade, on the ride to school. When he gets home that day, his parents are waiting in the living room, which looks like the Pride section of Target (R.I.P.) threw up on it. There's rainbow bunting on the fireplace, a rainbow cover on the couch, rainbow balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling, and a big rainbow slice cake that says "Congrats on Coming Out!" in frosting letters. Monroe and Rosalee are in matching rainbow cardigans and party hats. Felix is absolutely mortified, god parents are so embarrassing! But underneath that, he knows he's loved.

Monroe proceeds to become the most over-invested stereotypical PFLAG parent imaginable (in the best way). He audits queer studies classes at a local university. He volunteers for the city's Pride committee. He sponsors and chaperones events for Felix's high school GSA. He knows the whole world won't be a safe space for his son, but he makes damn sure to create as many of them as he possibly can for Felix to run to when he needs.

The [Redacted]-Calvert home becomes a refuge for closeted kids who are friends of the triplets and don't know how to tell their parents. Once or twice over the years, one of his kids comes home with a crying kid carrying a backpack in tow, when telling their parents didn't go well. Every time, Monroe looks at his son and remembers holding him as a baby and every moment of watching him grow up, and cannot imagine how any parent could turn their own child away for any reason, much less for something that hurts no one.

Rosalee is less effusive, but no less supportive. Those few times her kids bring a friend home crying, Rosalee gives them mom hugs and makes up the guest room for them, and once they're soundly asleep or having dinner with her family and starting to smile again, she quietly ducks out and goes straight to their parents to give them a piece of her mind. Monroe can't imagine abandoning one of his kids, but Rosalee can imagine a dozen ways to shame someone into the ground for doing so. She's so good at it and so persuasive that by the end, one of the couples actually thanks her for it and begs her to help with apologizing to their kids.

When some one million mom or other tries to get a queer YA novel banned from the school library, they quickly find they fucked with the wrong fuchsbau. Rosalee tries reason and she tries diplomacy. But when the woman starts passing around lists of yet more books to ban and making noises about enforcing "birth names" and "correct bathrooms," Rosalee ropes Nick into helping staff the next PTA bake sale and introduces him to everyone, including Mrs. One Million Moms.

Poor Nick, totally oblivious, greets her with a smile and a mild look of surprise when she woges in front of him. Rosalee makes sure to mention, all smiles, how Nick is such a dear old family friend who's really helped her with so many little problems over the years. Nick gets bashful and puzzled at the praise. Mrs. One Million Moms turns white as a sheet and come Monday, suddenly her zeal for banning queer books and forcing trans kids to be deadnamed in class has mysteriously dried up.

Rosalee knows that was fighting dirty. She doesn't give a shit. You can't take the high road with people that dedicated to crawling around in the mud. It's not just about her own kids, though that would be enough. She's held a kid whose name she didn't even know yet while they cried so hard they nearly threw up because of people like that woman. When it comes to making them feel safe, she'll fight far dirtier than that if she has to.

(Also, yes. When Farrin casually mentions she's thinking about taking up painting one night at dinner, she wakes up the next morning to find an easel with a fresh canvas next to her bed, acrylic paints, oil paints, watercolors, watercolor paper, and every brush the local craft store had. It's...a bit much. But the thing about Monroe and Rosalee is that their support always comes without pressure. She knows if she decides after a week that painting isn't for her, she'll never hear a word of guilt-tripping or disappointment from her parents about it. The materials will all go into storage, or be donated, or passed on to some friend or other, and she'll get the same level of over-the-top support the next time she wants to try something.)