#i resent this hellsite

[no6secretsanta]

Winter Love

From: @captainxan

For: @i-resent-this-hellsite

Their prompt: Most just about the main pair being happy. Maybe their reunion, or Au's welcome as well

Story Summary: Shion has been kept busy with a community project for the past month, so to make it up to Nezumi, he takes the day off work to get some last-minute Christmas shopping done together. Of course, shenanigans ensue.

*

“Here you go, Nezumi, dear.” 

“Thanks, Karan,” he responded, smiling as he took the Tupperware from the small woman. 

“Do tell Shion he works much too hard and that he should make some more time for his mother from time to time,” she said sternly, placing her hands on her hips. 

He found his smile widening, “Will do.”

She patted him on the shoulder, giving him a motherly smile, “Thank you, dear. See you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow, Karan,” he repeated before leaving the bakery where they both worked. 

Nezumi had been working for Shion's mother for a few years now, and the three of them usually had dinner together a couple of times a week. For the past month, though, Shion had been working on a community project which kept him busy at all hours of the day and had resulted in him frequently calling to let them know he wouldn’t be able to make it. 

Nezumi knew how much working for the city meant to Shion, so he couldn’t blame him for how earnestly he threw himself into all of his projects, but at the same time, he was starting to miss him.

Not that he would say that out loud. 

After putting Shion’s leftovers in the fridge and feeding their pet rats, Nezumi settled down on their couch with a new book Shion had gotten him a few days prior. The other man had told him that while hurrying between meetings, he had seen it in a bookshop window, which made him think of Nezumi, and bought it immediately. 

Nezumi had gagged at the sappy story, but he knew (and knew that Shion knew) that he would read the entire thing, cover to cover, even if it was the absolute worst piece of garbage ever written, and give Shion a full literary review to prove that he had. 

As smart as Shion was, he didn’t like to read as much as Nezumi did.

What he did like was listening to Nezumi retell him the stories, head resting in his hands, nodding along, and asking clarifying questions as if he couldn’t just read it himself. 

“I like the way you describe things,” he had once said in his stupidly honest voice, and at that moment, Nezumi knew he was well and truly fucked. As much as he liked to pretend to be put off and bothered, he couldn’t say no to Shion in any capacity. 

“I’m home-” a soft voice called out as if summoned by Nezumi’s thoughts. 

“Hello, beloved,” Nezumi responded sarcastically, and he saw Shion jump in surprise. 

“Nezumi! I didn’t expect you to still be up at this time.”

“And I didn’t expect you to come home so late. I guess we’re both confused.” 

“Are you…mad?” Shion asked hesitantly, toeing off his shoes in the doorway. 

Nezumi sighed, setting down his book and gesturing Shion closer, “I’m not mad. I just-” 

“Just-” Shion prompted, sitting next to him on the couch and resting a light hand on Nezumi’s knee. 

“Karan says you should visit more. You haven’t come by the bakery in almost three weeks,” he said, reaching out to flick the other man on the forehead. 

“And what about you?” 

“What about me? I live with you.” 

“Have you not missed seeing me around as often?” Shion asked, batting his eyelashes prettily. 

“Not particularly,” he said, shrugging. “Karan is better company, anyway.” 

Shion let out a whine before throwing his head back against the couch and closing his eyes in exasperation. 

It was only while his eyes were closed that Nezumi let himself smile at the other's antics. 

“So does that mean you won’t care that I’m taking all of tomorrow off to spend more time with you? Or would you rather spend that time with my mother too?”

“I didn’t say that. Taking tomorrow off? Whatever shall we do?” Nezumi asked, leaning forward and smirking suggestively.

Shion placed his hand directly over Nezumi’s mouth before he could close the distance between them.

“I thought we could go Christmas shopping? Oh! And maybe we’ll have enough time to catch the tree lighting too?”

Nezumi carefully wrapped his fingers around Shion’s wrist to lower his hand away from his mouth. 

“You want me to take the day off work so we can walk through packed department stores and then watch a tree get plugged in?” 

“...yes?” 

Nezumi sighed, “I’ll text Karan now.” 

Shion gave him a wide smile before practically tackling him onto the couch.

*

The next day found them in the overcrowded mall, weaving through people who had also waited until the last minute to go Christmas shopping. 

Nezumi would have been more annoyed, probably start griping about just taking their chances with online shopping, but Shion’s hand in his own, and the very large cup of hot chocolate the other man had gotten him were staving off his complaints for now. 

“Nezumi! Look at that!” Shion suddenly said, pointing. 

“What?” he asked, looking around confused.

“You’re looking right at it! That sweater!”

Nezumi wrinkled his nose at the monstrosity Shion was currently pointing out to him- a bright green fuzzy sweater decorated with garland and small ornaments to look like a Christmas tree. And if that wasn’t bad enough… it was a two-person sweater. 

“We have to try that on!” 

“I’d rather die,” he responded flatly. 

“Nezumi come onnnn- Christmas only comes once a year!”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” he countered, choosing to be difficult. 

“Don’t be a Grinch! Let’s go!”

And though small, when determined, Shion could be pretty strong. He gave Nezumi a hard yank toward the open door leaving the other man with the choice between spilling his hot cocoa while letting himself be manhandled or just going along with the insistent pulling.

With a groan, he followed Shion into the brightly lit store, which was playing some shitty song Nezumi had probably heard at least five other times in the past couple of hours alone. 

Shion immediately zeroed in on the double sweater and made a beeline to the rack, holding it up with a triumphant smile. 

“Shion, I would rather you just shoot me than have that anywhere near my body.” 

The white hair man pouted prettily before turning toward the nearest store employee to ask if they had a dressing room. 

When they pointed it out, Shion looked at Nezumi expectantly until he let out a long-suffering sigh and followed him across the store to the fitting room. 

Once they closed the door, Shion wasted no time stripping out of his outer layer to slide into his half of the sweater. He gave himself a satisfied nod in the mirror before holding up the side Nezumi was supposed to fill. 

“Humour me, please,” Shion said, batting his impossibly long eyelashes, and Nezumi found himself praying to any god that would listen to give him the strength to not fold at this moment.

“What did I just say literally five minutes ago?” he asked, trying to find some way to avoid getting into the awful sweater. 

“I was hoping you would have changed your mind. You’ve already done half the work by getting in here with me!” Shion pointed out before using the hand that wasn’t currently swallowed by the sweater to pull on Nezumi’s leather jacket. 

He tried to hold out, but after a solid minute and a half of Shion whining like a damn baby, Nezumi tsked and began shrugging out of the jacket. 

“Fucking fine-” he said, feeling defeated. 

Shion cheered as he helped him into the sweater, their arms pressed close together, and their fingers seemed to lace together almost on their own. 

He took a moment to examine them in the mirror, and he had to admit…

It looked even uglier than it had on the mannequins in the store window. 

Nezumi looked and felt like Christmas had vomited all over them. 

While distracted by the bright green atrocity, he vaguely registered Shion whipping out his phone just a moment too late to stop him from capturing a burst of photos.

Nezumi cursed loudly, reaching out to grab the other’s wrist, but Shion found a way to keep the phone just barely out of reach. 

“Shion, I swear to god, if those photos ever see the light of day, I will kill you.”

“What was that?” Shion asked, holding his phone up high and snickering, “I can’t hear you over the sound of me making this my phone background.”

Nezumi had to fight the urge to wrap his fingers around the other's neck.

“Don’t be mad-” Shion said when he finished, pressing kisses to the side of Nezumi’s face. 

He tensed, pretending to be unaffected, until Shion started trailing his lips toward his neck. 

Nezumi turned his face to meet the other’s eyes, “I’m not mad, stupid,” he leaned forward to punctuate his sentence with a kiss. “We’re not wasting our money on this shit, though.”

*

The newest thing Shion had bribed Nezumi with to keep him in check was a giant candy cane that the absolute menace kept leaning over to take licks of, even though Nezumi had told him to just get his own. 

The tree lighting was taking place in a big (equally as crowded) plaza full of vendors selling food, clothes, trinkets, and other useless shit. 

Shion was determined to visit what seemed like every single one of them. 

They were at a crystal stand selling a variety of brightly colored gems in different jewelry forms. 

“Do you think Inukashi would like this?” Shion asked, holding up a piece of what Nezumi thought was possibly Lapis Lazuli. 

“I don’t think they like anything outside of dogs.”

“Hmm- you’re right. I wonder if we can find anything dog-related,” he said absentmindedly before starting to trail off again. 

Before he could get too far, Nezumi stopped him with a sharp tug on his hand. 

“What is it?” Shion asked, tilting his head. 

“I think Karan would like this,” he said, pointing to one of the necklaces. “It’s the same color as the flower you’re named after.”

“You’re right! Let’s get it,” Shion said, quickly reaching for his wallet. Nezumi felt vaguely pleased as Shion simply handed over his card without even asking about the price beforehand, confident that his mother would enjoy it because Nezumi said so. 

Once the necklace was wrapped up, they came across a stall selling art prints, other small trinkets, and handmade items. 

Nezumi waited a bit as Shion absentmindedly flipped through some prints, even willingly offering up his candy cane, before deciding to have some fun. 

“Are you going to get anything for Rikiga?” he asked conversationally. 

Shion suddenly crunched down on the candy cane, frowning hard at hearing the name of his moms ‘friend’. 

He shoved the candy back at Nezumi and quickly looked around the stall, picking up a small knickknack seemingly at random. 

“I’ll get him this,” Shion said, holding the tacky keychain as if it would summon the middle-aged man if he weren’t too careful. 

Nezumi snickered at the reaction, going back to flipping through his own stack of prints as Shion went to pay. 

It only took him a moment to locate the prints he was looking for: a series of prints depicting colorful pastries accompanied by absolutely terrible puns that he knew Karan would love. 

He had already gotten her a deep blue scarf that was sitting at home, and Shion had just bought that necklace, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to get her a little something extra. 

He could already see them hanging up on the bakery wall. 

“What do you got there?” Shion asked, leaning his head against Nezumi’s shoulder. 

“New prints for Karan,” he said, turning the stack so he could see the one on top. 

Shion hummed, “if you keep this up, you’ll become my mother's favorite.”

“It’s too late for that. I already am,” Nezumi responded, smirking. 

*

Once he paid for the prints, they wandered around for a bit more before finally finding a stall of promise.

“How about this for Inukashi?” Nezumi asked, holding up a dog collar, “We can get their name engraved on it and everything.” He gestured to the bone-shaped name tag. 

Shion let out a loud laugh, “That’s mean.” 

“This?” Nezumi asked again, this time offering up a bright green dog bowl, “Or maybe this instead?” A rubber chew toy.

By this point, Shion was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. 

“Nezumi, stop,” he took the bowl and toy from his hands and set them back down on the table, still smiling widely. 

“Then how about this?” he said, choosing to stop being difficult and pulling out a flat parcel to hand over to Shion. 

Shion took it in his hands with a curious face before reaching inside to pull out a print of a dog that eerily looked like the one Inukashi sometimes referred to as their mother. 

Shion cooed, “This is perfect. When did you get it?”

“Maybe you should pay more attention to me,” he said, shrugging and sticking out his tongue but refusing to give away all of his secrets. 

Shion hugged him, “Thank you for finding this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nezumi brushed him off, rubbing his hands up and down the other’s back a couple of times before pulling away, “Now- let’s go find a good spot for the tree lighting, yeah?” 

Shion smiled, grabbing Nezumi’s hand and leading him toward the stage where the tree was set up. 

Once Shion settled on the perfect viewing angle, he tucked himself into Nezumi’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

Nezumi resisted for a moment before giving in and draping his arm across Shion’s shoulders, bringing him in closer. 

Shion hummed happily, and Nezumi rolled his eyes at how easily pleased the other was. Not that he was complaining. 

He was too caught up in the feeling of Shion in his arms to pay attention to whatever the speaker on the stage was saying. 

Something, something, my honor to something…

It all faded away to background noise as he watched Shion, eyes sparkling and practically vibrating out of his skin with anticipation as a countdown started. 

Nezumi finally turned his attention back to the stage when the tree was turned on, the lights traveling up the pine needles in various shades of red and green, gold and white.

“This is nice,” he murmured amidst the cheering that had started up around them, leaning his head on Shion’s. 

“Oh?” Shion asked, pulling back to look at Nezumi teasingly, “What’s this? Are you enjoying seeing a tree get plugged in?”

“I…admit to nothing,” he grumbled in response. 

Shion laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Nezumi’s shoulder.

“That’s fine. I can admit it for both of us. I’m glad we were able to do this today. I love you,” he said softly, right up against Nezumi’s ear. 

Nezumi pressed a gentle kiss to Shion’s temple.

“I love you too,” he said, drawing the other man back in for a hug, “Should we start heading home?”

“Can we look at the tree for a bit longer?” Shion asked.

“Sure. As long as you want, your highness.” 

[florbelles]

CELEMINA GREINATUS + having a normal one [six/∞]

[reallygroovyninja]

[itsawritblr]

Fuck "sensitivity readers."

I see that a couple of my Followers and other writers on here are obsessed with writing POC "correctly."

As a full-time professional writer of fiction and nonfiction who's also Hapa, I need to point out:

So you're paranoid that you're gonna write something and POC are going to come after you, calling you "racist" or "insensitive" or that you're "appropriating culture."

The only reply you need to make is in 2 steps:

Say:

Then:

There's is no "right way" to write any group of people or any race or ethnicity. Know why?

I've seen this happen. A Black writer will tell white writers how to write Blacks. Then another Black writer will say, "Wait a minute, I'm not like that, my family's not like that. We're not all Urban BLM hip-hop lovers. I'm Christian, I'm against trans in women's spaces, I have several White friends, and I listen to classic country music."

So who's right? Both.

A "sensitivity reader" or some on this hellsite will tell you HOW to write POC. When all they're telling you is their POV. They can't speak for everyone. (A perfect example.)

If you want to write about a person of a race or ethnicity other than your own, sure, do a little research, as you would with anything. If a sensitivity reader tells you your Jewish character should be celebrating Shabbat, a little research on your own will tell you that not all Jews do (as it happens, I learned this from my Jewish boyfriend, whose family never celebrated Shabbat). So that "sensitivity reader" would have given you misinformation because of her or his POV.

Do not panic that you're gonna be canceled or yelled at for "getting it wrong."

There IS no wrong. Look,

All you need to remember is:

Writer and screenwriter Anthony Horowitz was told not to write Black characters because he's white and Jewish. This stunned him. He was supposed to leave Black characters out of his work? But if he did that he'd be accused of not having Black characters.

He didn't obey. In fact, I'm reading his current novel, and he has a perfectly fine Black character in it.

Read this article:

No, Authors Should Not Be Constrained By Gender Or Race In The Characters They Create. by Lorraine Devon White, Contributor

This was the BBC.com headline:

Spy Author Anthony Horowitz ‘Warned Off’ Creating Black Character:

Author Anthony Horowitz says he was “warned off” including a black character in his new book because it was “inappropriate” for a white writer. The creator of the Alex Rider teenage spy novels says an editor told him it could be considered “patronising” ... Horowitz, who has written 10 novels featuring teenage spy Alex Rider, said there was a “chain of thought” in America that it was “inappropriate” for white writers to try to create black characters, something which he described as “dangerous territory”.

Dangerous territory, indeed.

What are we to make of this? Is an author limited to only writing characters within their race? What about gender? Religion? Age? Ethnicity? Sexual orientation? Where do the boundaries stop?

The old adage, “write what you know,” is a thesis that implies a writer should limit their imagination to the parameters of their own life and experience. But does that maxim still hold true today? Certainly in these times of viral accessibility, contact, research, knowledge, and interaction with people, places, and things far outside our own proximity is as every-day as 24/7 updates from the farthest corners of the globe. Our ability, consequently, to gain perspective sufficient enough to write outside one’s own “house” is not only doable, but, perhaps, universal and insightful, presuming one does it well.

But is it “patronizing”? Are we, as writers, simply not allowed to write outside, say, our culture, regardless of how well we might do it? Has society become so compartmentalized, so hypersensitive, politically correct, and wary of triggering repercussion, resentment, or misinterpretation that reaching beyond our own skin ― literally and figuratively – has become verboten to us as creative artists?

Interesting questions, these; particularly when you consider that men have been writing about women since time immemorial without particular societal concern that they couldn’t possibly know, couldn’t authentically muster, the requisite experiential perspective. It was a given that they could get the job done; accepted without debate. Yet the specificity, the sensitive and unique nature of being female, could be considered as disparate from the male experience as being black is to a white person, but that hasn’t stopped male authors, from Vladimir Nabokov to Wally Lamb, from creating their women of note.

Which is fair. Because the explicit job of an author is to climb inside the experience of LIFE, real or imagined, to tell compelling stories that reflect the incalculable diversity of detail, nuance, thought, and emotion of any variety of people, places, and things. And the creative mind can find and translate authenticity whether writing about Martians, coquettish teens, dogs who play poker, or characters who exactly mirror the author‘s gender or race.

I’ve had my own experience with this interesting conundrum: my last novel, Hysterical Love, was told through the first-person point-of-view of a thirty-three-year-old man, and it goes without saying: I’m not one of those. Yet I felt completely capable of infusing my story with authenticity by relying on my skills of observation, as well as my experiential knowledge as the sister of five men, the mother of a son, the wife of a man; my years on the road with rock bands, and the immersive research of being a close friend to many, many men throughout my life. I’ve been told I pulled it off, even by the men who’ve read it, so my conviction proved out.

But is the divide between cultures, races, wider than that of gender diversity? Does a white writer delegitimize their prose by including black characters? Is the reverse true?

I don’t think so. I think it depends on the writer, the quality of their work; the depth and sensitivity of their depictions. Those are my initial responses. But I also understand the question:

About two years ago I had an article up at HuffPost titled, “No, White People Will Never Understand the Black Experience,” a piece that became a flashpoint for much conversation on the topic of race. It was written in response to events of the time, particularly the egregious injustice of Sandra Bland’s arrest and subsequent (and inexplicable) jailhouse death, and the cacophony that arose amongst, amidst, and between parties on both sides of the racial divide as a result. My own thesis, my perspective on the tangible limitations we each have in perceiving and assessing the realities of life outside ourselves, is made clear by the title alone. But while there’s obviously much more to that debate, here and now we’re discussing the issue as it relates to the job of being an author and I have some specific thoughts on that.

Inspired by the many responses and conversations that ensued after the aforementioned article, as well as others written on the topic of racial conflict, bias, and injustice, I took one of the stories referenced, about an interracial couple’s experiences with police profiling, and developed it into a character-driven novel called A NICE WHITE GIRL, a title that reflects commentary made within some of the conversations I had.

This “sociopolitical love story” is told through the intertwining points-of-view of a black man and white woman dealing not only with pushback to their new and evolving relationship, but the ratcheting impact of police profiling that ultimately leads to a life-altering arrest. It’s a story that’s human, gut-wrenching, and honest, built on the foundation of my own experiences in a long-term interracial relationship earlier in my life, as well as journalistic research and interviews, personal interactions, even friendships with members of the black community. Given a commitment to creating the characters outside my demographic as authentically and sensitively as I possibly could, without watering them down or pandering to political correctness, I believe I served both my story and its cultural demands well. Did I?

Every author relies on, taps into; mines the wealth of thought, opinion, perspective, and acculturation of their own unique life experience. Certainly that’s true. But as artists, as observers and chroniclers of life by way of prose, we go beyond that pool of reference. We reach out, we expand; we explore plot lines and include characters that stretch our imagination, that dig deep into worlds, events and experiences, imagined or real, that can pull us onto less traveled roads that might demand the challenge of research, of specific observation, even outside consultation. We take these extra steps, even for fiction, because we want to infuse our work with inherent realness. Particularly when writing characters outside our culture. That was certainly the demand I faced when embarking upon this latest novel.

But I am a white woman who’s written a book with a black male character, inclusive of his mother, his sister, and various friends. I’ve depicted their family life, their interactions, relationships, thoughts and feelings. Do I not have the creative right to do that? Will I be seen as patronizing, insensitive, off base, and inappropriate? Will this make my book too controversial for representation, for publishing, for sale? Will it garner derision and disdain from members of the black community? Even members of the white community who may resent the harshness with which I depict some of the police?

I don’t know. Maybe. But it was a story I felt passionate about, compelled to write; that took the many debated aspects and elements discussed in my articles and put them into fictional form, with imagined characters who embodied and borrowed from people I knew, from conversations I’d had, from ideas, agendas, politics, and passions that had been conveyed to me by real people expressing essential and sometimes controversial perspectives. I was determined to honor them by candidly, honestly, and without apology, telling the story.

But perhaps, as Anthony Horowitz was told, I’m entering territory that is off-limits, that puts me at odds with those who might frame me as presumptuous and patronizing. “A nice white girl” who’s stepped outside of culturally acceptable boundaries.

I hope not, because I, like Mr. Horowitz, see that as “dangerous territory.”

Just as brilliant male authors have gorgeously written female protagonists; as female novelists have conjured male characters ringing with truth; as writers of one ethnicity have honestly depicted another; as fabulists have invented entire worlds of imagined wonders, authors must be limited by... NOTHING. Not a thing. They must be free to create without fear of cultural naysaying, societal judgment, threat of reprisal, or the discomfort of crossing cultural boundaries.

The only mandate to which they’re obligated is GOOD WRITING. Writing with wit and clarity. Honesty. Authenticity. Sensitivity and depth. Engaging prose, compelling plots, and visceral emotion. And, if need be, if determined helpful, the use of “sensitivity readers” who can ascertain if the writer got the cultural references right.

But just as Idris Elba could certainly make magic as James Bond, as Anthony Horowitz could create an intriguing black spy for his books; as I can write characters both male and of a culture outside my own, so must every author of merit and worth be allowed to view the entire panoply of life as fuel for their imagination. Anything else is antithetical to the mission of art... and stymying art serves no one. Not the writer, not the reader, not the myriad members of our diverse world hungry for stories that reflect their lives. Art is imagining; creating, mirroring, and provoking... all of which can and must be achieved by artists free to explore without the limiting effect of creative and cultural boundaries.

[gunsatthaphan]

✌🏻✨ ~ 2023 wrap-up ~ ✨✌🏻

another year gone, another post no one asked for djkghdf

I normally don't talk about personal stuff on here but like in the previous year I wanted do a little recap and give shoutouts to some lovely people 🧡

It hasn't been an easy year for me, I started a new job which has been stressful and annihilated my work-life balance which resulted in me being sick a lot & just being stressed for most of the year lol. I barely found time to maintain this blog which may not seem like it on the outside since I somehow managed to frequently post but it's been difficult. I know I don't have to be online 24/7 but the fear of slipping into irrelevancy due to lack of content remains. I didn't have much time to watch bls & asian shows in general which I still consider my safe space and escapism so I'm resentful that I didn't get to fully take in and enjoy the things I'm passionate about and make content about them like I did in the previous years. That being said thank god for all the weekend shows that I did manage to watch and fully focus on like Only Friends and now Cooking Crush and Cherry Magic. Those have been life savers lol and also thank god for all the talented creators who gave us tons of content; I will mention some of them below.

But aside from my personal schedule and despite not watching a lot of stuff, I still tried to keep an eye on what's going on in the BL world for my monthly breakdowns, which I still enjoy making and I will likely continue them in 2024. I also came to the conclusion that 2023 ended up being another rendition of quantity > quality in the BL-verse so not much has changed lol - not that I expected it to. We got a wild and extended mix of different genres and subgenres this year which was nice to see. We saw companies & actors experimenting a lot (with varying results), we got new ships, new fandoms and new enemies, as well as a variety of comebacks and retirements. My watchlist this year was limited to Thai BLs and my blog mostly consisted of gmmtv related content and like I said, if I had had more time I probably would have explored more different shows - but I eventually resorted to what's familiar. I guess I needed an anchor in midst of all my personal chaos lol.

But despite my short list, there were a few gems that I enjoyed. The big ones like Only Friends, Moonlight Chicken, Be My Favorite, etc., and the small, less popular ones like Be Mine Superstar, Mission Fan Possible and a few more. I enjoyed talking to friends & making content about them in the limited timeframes I had. My opinions mostly matched those of the general public but unfortunately there were a few disappointments that were bathing in a success that I could not wrap my head around - Dangerous Romance and A Boss and a Babe being at the top of that list, followed by La Pluie and also a few of the lakorns I watched. But anyway.

Anyone who knows me knows my blog has been 83% FirstKhao this year lmao, they're my favorite people in this industry and watching them act, interact & making content about them has been one of my highlights. I'm excited to see what 2024 brings for them and even if it's not a series, I'm looking forward to seeing what else they will be up to 🥺 🐈‍⬛ 🐈

I'm going into 2024 with mixed feelings but above all I hope I will get the chance to expand my watchlist a little. I will post a personal top10 of the shows I watched this year shortly; until then I want to talk a bit about some lovely people this year - I’m not good with words lmao but thank you for being you and making this hellsite a better place 🥹 lol.

@leonpob - bestie!!! 🧡 our BL opinions have drifted apart this year lmao but who's to say friendships are solely based on mutual opinions. You're the best, stay the way you are and here's to another year of sharing thoughts and hopefully finding more shows to watch together (no matter if trash or not lol) 😉😘  @mayalunas - ahhhh I loved talking to you sooo so much this year, we agree on so many things that I'm convinced we share the same BL braincells lmao. You're one of my favorite people on this website, thank you for being such a good listener and a positive & supportive person to talk to 🥺 I hope you have the best 2024!!! ily!!! 🧡 @khunvegas - GURL idk where you went this year or if you still exist sdjkds but just know I haven't forgotten about you and I miss our talks 🥺 come back pls thank. @my-wandering-rabbit - I love our random out-of-context talks once a month lmao, I appreciate you and I hope we will continue our ritual of me watching shows and you asking me questions without watching them kjsdhg @bl-recs-and-reviews - Bestie!!! I love our catch-ups on Discord, you were one of the first people I ever talked to like 4 years ago? crazy. look at us. I still love you, you're the sweetest and I love talking to you 🧡🥺 @dreamedofyou - ahh I absolutely love your blog!!! I noticed you a lot in my notifications this year so I wanted to say thank you so much for interacting with my unhinged content (mostly FK related lmao) - We haven't talked a ton but I think of you as a very nice person and I hope we can talk more next year 🥹🫶🏻

and then of course some more shoutouts go out to all the wonderful and talented creators out there; I will never be able to tag all of you so sorry in advance but here are a few that I appreciate, some of which have also mentioned me in their wrap-up posts so thank you for that!!!

@taeminie @seatawinan @loveisactivated @forcebook @jimmysea @guzhu-furen @daymork @itsallaboutbl @seatawinans @blneobin @blmpfff @wanderlust-in-my-soul @pranpat @milkpansa @raypakorn @ahxu-laowen @forcebookish @forcebookcorner @morkofday @chinzillas @seajimmy @dimpledpran @i-got-the-feels @bengiyo @benkaaoi @25shadesoffebruary @moonkhao @smittenskitten @respectthepetty @earthfluuke @pharawee @khaotunq @khaotunqs @pranink @gabrielokun @piningintrovert @zhaozi @markpakin @firstkanaphans @firstforkhao @khaotungsfirst @wen-kexing-apologist @firstkpp @firstmix @bunnakit @khaothanawat @alienwlw @ffirstkhao (I can't tag the last 4 for some reason..)

have the best 2024!!!

🧡🧡🧡

[deoidesign]

okay so ages ago on the Bird Hellsite I saw someone make a coat entirely out of worm on a strings so now we have that incredibly cursed mental image right. My question to you is who in the TTA cast would be most likely to wear that thing and why is it Steve?

Oh, I met someone who did that a few years ago! Might have been the same person tbh.

I think a number of the minor characters would happily wear it, but the one most likely to make it would be Ash from the ghost hunting arc. Steve would wear it too, but Adam could make it work.

I had a grudge for years against worm on a string though... It was 2014. Flying across the country with my art class for the final judging of a competition. New York City, baby. Every day was constant activity; always going to a different event, a different activity, a different project...

And the stage was set: A small budget for the ILNY tourist store, two exhausted teenagers, and a misleading ad. The sound was off, and without captions we were left to assume... And we believed if the worms got wet, they would squirm. It made sense why they were $20 with technology like that.

Me and my best friend bought the worm on a string. We named him... Hal. It was all we talked about that day, the anticipation of getting back to the hotel.

Finally we get to our room. I was more excited about this than about being in the top 5 for a contest with a $50,000 prize. We opened the package, deterred by none of the signs, confirmation bias in full force... What's this string? Oh, it must be so they don't squirm away and get lost!

Fools.

Two fools standing over the bathroom sink, Hal in ones hands, and the other turning on the faucet. Nothing. A gentle shake of the lifeless soggy body. Still nothing.

And then the dawning realization: The worm was never gonna squirm around. We were duped.

How could we let that go... For years, I didn't.

I've since developed a fondness. It was never Hal's fault. We were exhausted, not thinking straight, and we blamed him for our own failure. I can only try to make amends... But I truly believe Hal never held resentment in his fuzzy blue heart.

Anyways we got second place and then the next year we won but that's less important.

[tavina-writes]

This is entirely copied from my reblog of this post, but I just thought I'd put this in a post of my own for safekeeping on this hellsite or I'd literally never find the translation of Xingnv's Lament I did for this reblog ever again but. Anyway!

Whenever I think about the fact that like, people claim historical people grieved less about child and infant mortality I want to start biting because here's the translation of the Cao Zhi's poem on losing a daughter (yes the Cao Zhi of the infamous bean poem/Seven Step Quatrain fame) written sometime in the 200s AD: 行女哀辞

序：行女生于季秋，而终于���夏。三年之中，二子频丧。 伊上帝之降命，何修短之难哉；或华发以终年，或怀妊而逢灾。 感前哀之未阕，复新殃之重来！方朝华而晚敷，比晨露而先晞。 感逝者之不追，情忽忽而失度。天盖高而无阶，怀此恨其谁诉！

Xingnv's Lament

Preface: My youngest daughter, Xingnv, was born in late autumn and died in early summer of the following year. In just three years, two beloved daughters died one after another. The heavens grant precious life to people, yet why is the length of that life so hard to guess Some people are fortunate to live to old age, others die young in the womb I have yet to finish grieving for Jinhu*, yet I have to see Xingnv** buried in dust This poor child falls like the hibiscus, life drying like the morning dew I thought of that young life that could never return, and lose my normal composure Resenting that the heavens have no stairs for me to climb, to pour out the sorrows of my heart

*Jinhu is the first child that he mentioned

**Xingnv is the daughter he dedicated this poem to

Like! DESPITE what people will tell you people often grieved their children, yes, even daughters which, historical fiction SO often say that fathers hated having Girl Children or whatever. We only know Cao Jinhu and Cao Xingnv's names because their father wrote them down. And grieved their absence.

"Resenting that the heavens have no stairs for me to climb" is SO bleak and so utterly fucking devastating.

[ariadne-mouse]

I really appreciate what tumblr is trying to do with Communities but truly the way they roll out most new features is SO clunky and hostile (in a user acceptance sense). Like the Communities option has been in the sidebar menu for ages but still only has "create new" as an option so you can't browse from there, but you also can't move or hide it if you're not in any communities. It's in the very space-limited menu on mobile too, but same issue - it's not a hub, it's a place where communities that you make or join will be listed, and therefore useless and frustrating if you don't have any. Search function for communities is improving but there is still no place to actually browse, it's just hit or miss searching for things you might be interested in. And now there is the "Suggested Communities" block in the drop down of the search bar on desktop, which also cannot be changed (either to hide or an "I'm not interested" feature) pushing the followed tags which I actually use further down the menu. Look tumblr I know I have "mouse" in my user handle but I do not actually want to join a community just because it has "mouse" in the header name, and there is no way for me to get this out of my suggested communities, and so I just slowly, incrementally resent the feature as it continues to minutely clog up useful functions without providing benefit or a meaningful entry point. I love this hellsite (affectionate) but sometimes it can be very hellsite (derogatory).

[painfullymeta]

Warning: I'm Gonna Be Earnest Now

I am deep in my feels right at the moment so I am actually making a post of my own on this, the deep in my feels hellsite.

I am late GenX.  (Not quite what gets called Xennial IMO but definitely in what gets called the Oregon Trail (Micro)Generation.)  And for all you young whippersnappers, you have to understand "The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” ( - L. P. Hartley)

I am old enough to remember when AIDS was named GRID.  ("Gay-related immune deficiency.”)  I am old enough to remember ACT-UP, the Reagans’ abandonment, “If I die of AIDS just leave me on the steps of the FDA”, all those things that tired older people on tumblr try to remind people of when the TERFs come around to tell us to stop saying “queer” as if Queer Nation was a goddamn hallucination I had when I was a kid.

On the last day of high school, after the last exam, when none of us would have to ever see each other again if we so chose – that was the day that one of my friends, someone I had eaten lunch near every day since partway through freshman year, said to me “I have something to tell you.  I’m gay.”  And then he followed it up with “Is that okay?”

I hugged him.  He broke my goddamn heart and I hugged him.  "Is that okay," he asked me. Is it okay to be who I am, near you.

I was in college before I met someone who identified herself as a lesbian — and I went to a women’s college until I lost my shit and dropped out, and I expect that if I hadn’t done that I might have gone longer.

(Of course at the same time as I was clueless and not meaningfully connected with any sort of queer culture I somehow wound up with a friendgroup who, if we got bored and couldn’t come up with anything else to do, would watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show together.  This is what we did instead of going to Homecoming.)

By 2000, I was vaguely aware of trans things existing, and in fact met my first trans person while at Brighton Pride that year, though we didn’t really speak (I was there as the guest of some people in his extended social group) and I was vaguely confused and too awkward to try to do more than ‘observe and try not to fuck this up’.  I met a nonbinary person for the first time around then as well, and zie was the only one I knew of for nearly a decade.

By the mid-oughts I was with it enough to ask someone what pronouns she wanted me to use for her before sharing something about her on a message board.

(I am also old enough to have spent time on multiple message boards.  I’m old enough to resent the internet going through the world wide web instead of email and usenet actually.)

Sometime in the early oughts I guess I was at the subcommittee hearing in the Boston State House that was discussing, among other things, whether we might consider possibly condescending to allow same-sex couples to marry.  I was even going to testify!  (Please be impressed with my early twenties autistic ass I was terrified.)  There was a guy there - a senator on the committee - who was asking every person who came up if they were going to force his church to marry the gays.  Catholic, y’know, this being Massachusetts.  I revised my speech in my head to note that if we weren’t forcing the Catholic churches to marry divorcees yet he didn’t need to worry about it.

(Then my nose decided to haemhorrage all over my entire life and I couldn’t get it to stop bleeding so rather than testify while looking like an entire murder victim I went home.)

I was in my thirties when pregnancy-induced dysphoria made me start seriously thinking about my own sense of gender.

I was in my forties before I bought a binder.

I am from another fucking planet.  (The past is a foreign country.)

I know kids - multiple kids - who knew enough to identify as lesbians at an age younger than I think I knew that word.  (And I am one of those humans of freakish and unreasonable vocabulary and always have been.)

I crack jokes with one of my kids about the Queer Kids Stairs at their school, because that’s where the GSA kids hang out together after activities get out.  (While GSAs were around while I was a kid, they started in Massachusetts according to Wikipedia and that is not where I was when I was a kid, and to my best recollection I didn’t hear about them existing at all until I was an adult.)

I live in a world where my social circles include queer people of my generation, of older generations, of younger generations, and oh my gods, I look at the kids and my heart tries to explode.

My oldest knows more than one trans kid.  More than one *affirmed* trans kid.  (And we’ve talked a bit about the social dynamics that might make it more likely for the trans boys to be out than the trans girls, even now.)

And I’m writing this because of one of those trans boys, who is in the Coming of Age group at our church, and who is, apparently, in his credo, citing that thing I’ve seen on the tumblrs more than once, about how being trans means being a participant in the holy, divine process of creation, coming into being as himself.

And guys?

I’m not from the same planet as that kid.

Because I’m in my forties and I don’t even know what I’m creating.  And I’m terrified.

And here’s this kid coming out there with that as a core statement of belief that he’s prepared to stand up in front of, as the phrase goes ‘God and everyone’, to claim.

(I need to remember to talk to him about how in my Craft tradition there’s a canonically transmasc god.)

I know I’ve got at least two teenagers reading me and I just.  Y’all got this.  I know it’s hard and the world is scary and it’s fucking coming for us all but you are amazing and I am so full of inarticulate alexithymic feelings about all of you. The ones I know and the ones I don't.

We've come a long way from "Is that okay?" and you heal my broken heart.

[no6secretsanta]

Happy belated Secret Santa 2023 to kerminty from @i-resent-this-hellsite! I'm sorry it took me so long and I'm already drawing you something else too.

[least-carpet]

Wen Ning Gets a Life, please!

Wen Ning Gets a Life it is!

This is the ningcheng monster I've been writing for months, the end result of the following thought process:

Wait, maybe I'm into ningcheng for real?

Being a fierce corpse fucking sucks, someone should resurrect Wen Ning. Shame he doesn't live in SVSSS-verse, bet there's a (sex-related) cure for that...

Wouldn't it be funny and very keeping with Wen Ning's luck generally if Wei Wuxian finally let him hit and the sex was bad?

Since I don't know how much sex is too much for the hellsite, have the lead-in to Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng's first bad-idea hookup.

Wen Ning covered his eyes with his hand. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said.

When he removed his hand, Jiang Cheng was there, his eyes sharp as always and his mouth a narrowed little slash in his face.

Resentment surged in his heart. This was always going to happen—they would see each other—he was, after all, a guest in the other man’s sect. But now? Wen Ning wasn’t in the mood.

“Wen Ning,” said Jiang Cheng, slowly. “Imagine finding you here.”

“Uh, Sect Leader Jiang,” he said. “Are you injured?”

“No,” he said. “I was—passing by. I heard someone in here and I wondered what they were doing in the store rooms at night.”

“Chang An said I could help out around here,” said Wen Ning defensively. “Can I—can I help you?”

Jiang Cheng cocked his head to the side, examining him. Wen Ning felt his gaze like a touch as it raked up and down his body.

“You look the same,” he said.

“Excuse me?” said Wen Ning.

Jiang Cheng came in, shutting the door behind him. The air hung stagnant and thick.

“I received a very interesting report from my medical team yesterday evening,” said Jiang Cheng. “Proposing that your condition might be reversed. But you don’t look like anything’s different. Weren’t you supposed to receive your first treatment today?”

Wen Ning stiffened.

“I did,” he said. “It’s very—very unlikely anything would change right away.”

“Disappointed?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“No, I—I knew it would take time,” said Wen Ning.

Jiang Cheng smiled. It was not a very nice smile. “But you’re still disappointed.”

Wen Ning pressed his lips together.

“Dual cultivation not quite everything you dreamed?” asked Jiang Cheng. “The sex must have been terrible for you to be here in the middle of the night looking like you want to cry into our bandages. Be sure to wipe your tears with something else—I don’t have time to get those replaced.”

"Sect Leader Jiang—"

But he couldn’t contradict him. The sex had been terrible.

Jiang Cheng let out a sharp bark of laughter. “It was really that bad! How bad must it have been to put you off Wei Wuxian?”

The bandages fell out of his numb hands onto the counter.

“Well, my condolences to you for the disappointment. Tell you what, if you need someone to see to the job properly, you can always come and ask me to do it.”

[assortedseaglass]

It’s my birthday! To celebrate, I’m giving gifts to some of my favourite people on my favourite hellsite. There’s been a fair amount of hate, despondency and general sad vibes here lately, so let’s combat that!

@arcielee

I mean, honestly, where do I begin?

Something special happened the first moment you comment on a fic of mine. I went down a complete rabbit hole of reading, and while all of your work is incredibly special to me, Silver Coins and Peace Beneath the City are always on my favourites list.

Your writing is utterly spellbinding. You have a knack for understanding characters that I truly admire (and slightly resent hehe). The way you put them in situations that always feel true to character and canon, while making them entirely unique is a real gift.

And your prose! Good Lord, it's exceptional. The fluidity and ease of your sentences makes all your writing a joy to read. It's clear that you are a natural born writer, and that so much love and thought has gone into your craft. The way you use language to reflect the content and context of a piece of work is second-to-none, and if people want a clear example of this then please read Her Salvation, His Damnation. A story about seduction, lust, guilt, death, and the writing is seductive, sexy and heart wrenching. I felt pulled towards this amazing woman, as Osferth did. Just spectacular.

Aside from your incomparable writing, you are an incredible friend. You always have the time to listen to me. Whether I'm exceedingly thirsty heheh, cannot find the motivation to write, need to work out some issues or just want to chat, there's no-one I'd rather do it with than you. 💗

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for inspiring me, helping me be better and always being there. This isn't enough to say how wonderful you are, and how much you are a part of the whole fandom experience for me, but thank you, thank you, thank you.

H x

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hurling another enrichment pumpkin at you : any thoughts on how Secrets handles its sociopolitical themes? I haven't had the chance to check the podcast out personally so far but from what I've seen on tumblr it seems to take a much less vague approach to those themes than even Unburied did, and considering how multiple people mentioned that the podcast seems a bit rushed, do you think that affected the handling of this too?

one of the things I did really like was removing any ambiguity as to whether or not we're supposed to interpret this version of the Riddler as a Muslim Indian man, and I think it's fair to assume that by extension that this cements Bruce and Barbara as Black and Latina, respectively. I don't think any of those were really controversial opinions, especially per the fandom I see on our glorious hellsite, but the conformation is cool!

I think exploring the way that Eddie's status as a brown man would contribute to his sense of disenfranchisement and resentment for Society is interesting for sure. it's also used to enable some like... COMPELLING bastard behavior that's very specific to him as a man of color, namely misleading the GCPD to arrest some entirely unrelated Indian man that they can't tell apart from Eddie, and the bit where he's having his little tantrum re: his sister's social climbing and insinuates that she probably has a white husband/boyfriend, which is a thing Asian women are FREQUENTLY attacked for in Asian incel communities. interesting move, I applaud.

I was less impressed by how the series handled its humanization of criminals and incarcerated individuals, which I wrote about a lot on this post about the depiction of Azrael. idk, I like that the rogues look out for each other and we get to see the horrors of realizing that you're so dehumanized by society that your vicious murder becomes a meme, that's a perspective on Gotham's rogues that I feel we don't get a lot! but the series seemed to waffle pretty hard on its own stance on this, Batman seems to be operating a pretty different wavelength than he was at the end of Unburied (he's soooo much more of a cop), and I also genuinely don't know what to do with the reveal that this version of King Tut was running a sex cult, especially since literally the only person who criticized him for that was. you know. also responsible for several brutal murders.

at risk of harping on this too much it feels very strange that a series would be so invested in the humanity of villains and then also have an actual antagonist who's as one note as Azrael is made out to be and gets offed with so little fanfare. the series' other big issue seems to be coming down hard on the side of "we hate violent Christian fundamentalists, they're Bad" and like. yeah, I agree, and that obviously ties in very closely with exploring racism and Islamaphobia that the Riddler has grown up experiencing, but as I said in the other post it's also uuuuuh very weird to make Jean-Paul the narrative scapegoat for far right fundie Christians when, in the comics, that's not his bag at all. he's a dangerous and careless Batman, sure, but he's also very much a victim of the Order of St. Dumas, and it feels like both a sloppy use of the character and a WILDLY missed opportunity to explore the church as a corrupt system akin to Strange's medical abuses in Arkham and everything about the GCPD. idk, it feels like Secrets in the Dark just really jettisoned much more interesting potential stories building on Unburied's themes in favor of a much more black and white narrative.

tl;dr I cannot believe that Secrets in the Dark has forced me to point to David S. Goyer as a comparative paragon of nuance and taste!!! what!!!

[elfdragon12]

Oh yeah, the original Decepticons were evil and power hungry and I honestly miss it. So I’m happy we are getting that in the new comic series.

Like, tragic villains are fun but you know what’s more fun… VILLAINS BEING VILLAINS BECAUSE THEY LIKE BEING EVIL AND SELFISH

My point this particular time is less about the way modern villains are written, but more "hey, the original Decepticons were a military faction that actively oppressed other races for resources to beat out the Autobots who functioned as freedom fighters, so maybe making the Decepticons the beleaguered victims of an oppressive government the Autobots are complicit in isn't actually the brilliant 'nuanced' take everyone acts like it is".

A lot of the season 1 Decepticons had military or surveillance equipment as alt modes. A lot of the season 1 Autobots had civilian or emergency response vehicles as alt modes. There's an important discrepancy here that I think a lot of folks leave out of the discussion.

I'm certainly not going to say there isn't room for that or that no stories should be written where the Decepticons are fighting against oppression, I just don't really think Autobots being that force is so "smart" to me. I am also kinda resentful of the franchise moving closer to Autobots being oppressors is the default instead of freedom fighters and the fandom (at least on this hellsite) acting like Autobots should be the true villains. Alpha Trion was fighting against the original Cybertronian enslavers, the Quintessons!

I also suspect this trend comes from folks who like Decepticon characters but aren't very comfortable having favorites who don't have many if any redeeming qualities.

[missingexaltation]

Just an FYI for anyone following me for steddie reasons....I'm done. No more from me.

I loved this pairing when it was fairly equal, but at heart I'm more of an Eddie fan than a Steve one (I relate to him more, that's all), but the steddie tag on Tumblr has become a kind of 'Eddie fucks up and hurts Steve and has to prove himself' space, which really annoys me.

Steve's not a perfect character, he's flawed and fucked up too, but not on this hellsite. Every ficlet in the steddie tag is 'Eddie did something wrong and Steve shouldn't forgive him but will because he's A Good Guy, Eddie makes up for What He Did and they live happily until Eddie fucks up again'.

Or worse, actually, sometimes it's 'Eddie is the third wheel in his own relationship and should be grateful that Steve loves him because Eddie keeps fucking up...but it's ok because Steve's true love is Robin and doesn't need Eddie anyway'.

Honestly, look out for it in each fic posted on here and it's pretty likely that you'll see it. It's mostly pro stobin and lukewarm to steddie, which is weird in a ship tag.

It's kind of making me resent Steve and Robin's characters, so I'm noping out while I'm ahead. They're portrayed as pretty OOC most of the time, not anything like the characters I liked in the actual show.

So this is my last steddie related post, feel free to unfollow, I don't mind! I'm going back to my gaming roots (if you haven't noticed already lmao).

Love you all! Xxxxxx

[unashamedly-enthusiastic]

I posted 10,180 times in 2022

112 posts created (1%)

10,068 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@risaceofhearts

@luminousdelusion

@eclipsedrawsthings

@olliegators

@chibi-blue-scapula

I tagged 1,013 of my posts in 2022

#good things happen in this world - 74 posts

#animals with fan art - 32 posts

#what did we do to deserve dogs - 23 posts

#eurovision - 23 posts

#this is the content i'm here for - 15 posts

#new adventures - 12 posts

#it's love - 12 posts

#10/10 would marry again - 11 posts

#we loved them - 10 posts

#doug the dug - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#the idea that one day my tiny baby baba will be a grown up who may resent me for some mistake i make despite trying my best

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

It's half 10 at night, I've had all the blinds closed all day, all the doors open and all the windows open to create cross breeze, a fan running with ice packs behind it to circulate cool air.

It's 25.5°c inside my bedroom. 78°f.

That is too many for Scotland.

It's to be warmer tomorrow and I do not like that

550 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

#4

630 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

#3

It makes me very sad I am too big for this

2,103 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

#2

The entire original discworld audio book catalogue

2,922 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I know that we here on tumblr have had our posts stolen and rewritten by many a twitter user, and that they speak of of tumblr as a hellsite (derogatory) when it is really a hellsite (affectionate)

But now that Elon owns twitter, we must welcome new and returning users with open arms.

Every twitter user converted is one step closer to Elon Musk pulling a yahoo and loosing 99% of Twitters value.

23,037 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

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