#lord help me i am having gay thoughts about a fictional man again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing.

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin. It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #georgie barker #rosie zampano #tma rosie #tim stoker #meet cute #blind date au #this is my love letter to TMA #prompt answer #fanfic prompt

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ashistrashhh · 4 years ago

Text

here are some fic recs!! including sakuatsu, bokuaka, kuroken and matsuhana bc i couldnt help myself

if you want, ask me about a certain ship and ill give you some recs!

-sakuatsu-

Marble and Sandstone by red_camellia

rating: G words: 12,937 chapters: 2/2

author summary: Miya Atsumu only cares about volleyball and nothing else. That is, until he develops a strange obsession with the marble statue of a young man that seems vaguely familiar in his university's arts department. One day that statue comes alive as the very real Sakusa Kiyoomi, and they are left with the mystery of why Sakusa Kiyoomi was turned into a statue and only came back to life when Atsumu touched him. Their new-found connection and the strange mystery turns Atsumu's life upside down, not least because of his growing feelings for Sakusa.

my notes: this was a rlly cute fic!!! 11/10 would read again!!

let it go (paint my body gold) by lunarism

rating: T words: 3,272 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It becomes a routine for them. Sometimes they go grocery shopping and make dinner together, other times they end up talking until Sakusa feels like his own shower and bed is calling him. Every single time Sakusa gets home, shrugs his coat off, balls it up, and proceeds to scream profusely into the fabric for a few minutes.

my notes: pining!!! sakusa!!! also casual painter!atsumu!!! and they paint together!!!

craft a miracle with these hands, lips, (silence) by chrysanthe (sonderesque)

rating: T words: 4,252 chapters: 1/1

author summary: ‘Someone is here to ruin your night,’ his door tells him. ‘You should let them in.’ “I’M HOMELESS OMI-OMI. HOMELESS,” yells the one here to ruin his night. “LET ME IN.”

(What does Kiyoomi sell his sanctuary for?)

my notes: hnnn rlly fuckin cute,, and domestic,,,,

Clipped To You by littleboat

rating: T words: 8,174 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.

Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.

or Sakusa starts wearing hair clips and Atsumu is more than a little obsessed

my notes: minor kagehina, bokuaka // god these fics rlly make me simp for fictional characters even more than i should. but!! sakusa!!! in hairclips!!! and a pining atsumu!!!

learn how to lay me down in something other than danger, other than fury by rosevtea

words: 34,211 chapters: 1/1

author summary: All of the ways fellow college TA Miya Atsumu reinvents Kiyoomi's definition of normal.

my notes: god i loved this. it’s a fake dating au and like,, even though they’re “dating” sakusa keeps letting his guard down little by little around atsumu and it surprises everyone. komori and akaashi just know that they’re were genuinely pining for eachother

among probabilities and a thousand fates by aalphard

rating: T words: 15,675 chapters: 1/1

author summary: prompt fill for “in a world where the red string of fate exists, person a’s finger always twitches when person b, who can see the string, tugs on their string” | or sakusa thought he had a tic and atsumu liked to see his confused expression when it started to happen exclusively when he was around.

my notes: i! loved! it!! so basically atsumu and osamu have the rare gift of seeing the red string of fate, so they know its real but sakusa, like most other people dont believe it exists. so atsumu gives sakusa a (kinda) hard time. rlly cute!! i love soulmate aus!

-bokuaka-

love in the time of wifi by dalyeau

rating: G words: 4,177 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Akaashi is coming to terms with the fact that he might be romantically interested in his volleyball captain. Hence, doing what any sixteen year old with a problem should do. He asks about it online.

my notes: really cute fic about akaashi asking what he should do about his crush on a site similar to reddit. its kinda a “i didnt know it was you” kind of fic and it made me happy

steam by orphan_account

rating: E words: 8,474 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

The coach blew the whistle for practice to begin, and Bokuto drummed his fingers against the bleachers, awaiting Kuroo’s reply. He was about to walk away, when his phone buzzed in his hand.kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

my notes: explicit!!! but really wholesome. kuroo is honestly the best wingman. i also think this is my favourite bokuaka smutfic??

just to miss the sun by rosevtea

rating: T words: 15,126 chapters:1/1

author summary: Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

my notes: akaashi is a booktuber and bokuto crashes one of his streams. fans begin to speculate. rlly fluffy and can u tell i like bokuaka

brain fish by iceblinks

rating: T words: 12,026 chapters: 6/6

author summary: Akaashi wakes up to a string of texts from an unknown number.

my notes: i love text fics and i love wrong number aus so u can tell how much i loved this. really fluffy and i come back to it time to time

-kuroken-

us three by honey_s

rating: T words: 5,137 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo’s gaze flits over to the utensil. His eyes bulge out of his skull. “Wh—is that a meat hammer? Put it back!” Akaashi’s head recoils back in confusion. “I don’t understand the problem here.” “Why on Earth have you got a fucking meat hammer? We aren’t going to kill somebody!” “Well,” Akaashi begins, clearly taken aback, “I apologise for assuming. I had heard Kenma-san had been hurt in school and after getting a message from both of you to meet late at night, I merely filled in the blanks and assumed we were going to beat someone up, for lack of a better term.” “Not literally! I meant metaphorically, or figuratively, or something!” “Idiomically?” “That isn’t a word, Bokuto-san.” “Jesus Christ,” Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “We're going to jail."

my notes: bokuaka and kuroo are ready to beat someone up for kenma!! and we stan!!

Cherry Pits and Cat Tattoos by strawberryriver

rating: G words: 6,141 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

Kuroo has been in communication with his soulmate ever since they were kids. They've known each other for so long that he never really worried about when or how he would meet them. At least, not until he meets the roommate of Bokuto's soulmate.Soulmate AU in which things written on your skin show up on your soulmate. Companion piece/same AU as Serendipty

--------------------

Kuroo Tetsurou liked to write on his arms. Despite his mother's half-serious warnings about “ink poisoning” or staining his skin, he insisted on marking his arms and legs wherever he could. Not like his best-friend-since-always Bokuto Koutaro, who had to write on his arms or he’d forget to breathe, but artfully. He’d draw designs, animals, the occasional chemical compound. The whole idea behind soulmates fascinated him: how one person could mark their arm and someone potentially thousands of miles away, would have that same mark appear. The amount of articles, studies, and books he’d read about the topic, even at a young age, could put an undergrad researcher to shame.

my notes: again with the soulmate au bc i cannot help myself. but really cute!!! probably gonna read this again later!

Boom, Toasted by protostar (hearthope)

rated: T words: 6,782 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

FROM: yuuji any bets on who hes texting??

FROM: eita He's smiling at his phone. Kuroo, probably

FROM: kentarou Kuroo

TO: fake family Have any of you ever once considered not prying

FROM: eita You deserve it

FROM: yuuji how can we not when ur in love!!

Kenma gets a text from an unknown number. He'd be lying if he said the guy behind it wasn't kind of endearing.

my notes: again, i love wrong number texts. it focuses more on kenma’s friendship, but kenma’s pov with texting kuroo is more than him realizing feelings and stuff. really cute, ive read it multiple times.

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing

rating: T words: 3,631 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

my notes: i! love! social media! fics!!! really cute and basically people wondering who the mysterious kuroo is to applepi.

MATSUHANA!!! the underrated gem

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic

rating: M words: 2,119 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Hanamaki breaks his No Texting In Class rule, and it's all downhill from there.

my notes: honestly more funny than it suggests, but its matsuhana, they’re meme lords.

rated m for by orphan_account

rated: T words: 10,692 chapters: 1/1

author summary: He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

Hanamaki stares at the title of the script he’d so gracefully neglected the night before.

FORBIDDEN PARADISE

“Excuse me,” Hanamaki starts, raising a pen in the air while staring blankly at the packet in his free hand. “Just to clarify, you want me to record a boy's love CD with Matsukawa?”

my notes: a very good voice actor au. there is some misunderstanding on hanamaki’s part bc he didnt finish listening to matsukawa, and this is really cute and i love matsuhana.

In A Quiet Night, All Sounds Carry by levyovochka

rating: E words: 4,794 chapters: 1/1

authors summary: “Ah, ah, Too—!”

Hanamaki hates his university dorm.

“—ru, let me cum, please!”

Hold up. That’s a fucking understatement. Let him rephrase it: Hanamaki loathes his university dorm with passion. Detest the damned abomination, abhors it—

“—ru! Coming, coming—”

It has only been a month and Hanamaki already wants to die.

my notes: as u can guess minor iwaoi // rlly well written and bottom hanamaki rights and maybe my favourite matsuhana smutfic??? and hooh boy i simp for matsukawa

call me maybe by totooru

rating: T words: 33,689 chapters: 14/14

author summary: Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

my notes: minor iwaoi, daisuga, bokuaka // god i think this is my favourite matsuhana fic overall, maybe in general, but my god is it great. this is probably a common rec, but its understandable as to why it is. basically au where makki texts matsun (who goes to karasuno) instead of oikawa for tips to beat iwaizumi at an arm wrestling match. but they keep messaging. and holy shit i love their conversations. please read this, it is 256/10

there we go!! i might go a part two with more ships (kagehina, tsukkiyama and iwaoi) but this took up way to much time lol. i have an essay due in a couple hours. but hope u like these fics as much as i do!!

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years ago

Note

okay but i mUST know. what..... i mean how did you start shipping grima and eomer??? am i missing something bookcanon-wise? like..... could you explain it to me?? I'm definitely intrigued!

oh lord - I started shipping them maybe ten years ago? It was something I stumbled upon, there was a fanfic on Livejournal that I read and it was them and I thought: Huh, I like the dynamic.

So no, you aren’t missing anything book!canon-wise.

Grima does have his sarcastic moments which we were robbed of in the film. Including him sassing Treebeard.

Because LOTR is ultimately a comedy.

Eomer is more somber in the movies and less hot-headed/prone to acting before thinking than he is in the books. We were also robbed of the time Saruman called Eomer a serpent, which is something I enjoy reading into as I like to imagine there is a bit of a cunning streak beneath Eomer’s bonhomie.

But the two of them interacting? There is nothing “on screen” in the book, but clearly they did. Aside from Eomer threatening Grima’s life in the king’s hall for, presumably, treason & looking-at-Eowyn reasons (which is why he was under quasi-house arrest when Gandalf et al showed up), they would have interacted. Like, it would make absolutely no sense if they never talked to each other/didn’t know one another.

Grima is a member of the King’s Household (he's taken an oath to Theoden and fulfills an adviser role, which makes him most likely a household member. It would be weird if he wasn’t) and Eomer grew up in Theoden’s household after his parents died.

We don’t know how long Grima has been working for Theoden, but I always assumed it was for a fair while. Well before the Treason Years, if only based on the line from Gandalf: “This here, is a snake. To slay it [Grima] would be just. But it was not always as it is now. Once it was a man, and it did you service in its fashion.”

So, they would have known each other, interacted, worked together in some capacity. Eomer as Third Marshal would have had dealings with his uncle’s main adviser, just out of necessity to make sure there’s coordinated approaches in tithing, maintaining winter rations, defense of the borders, road maintenance etc. All those day to day workings of a geographically disparate kingdom.

Anyway - as for why I ship them? tl;dr: I like the opposite-attract dynamic; couples-who-bicker is a favourite trope; angst!potential!high!; fun things to explore in terms of leadership/kingship/how do you make a decision when there is no moral choice to be made? All options for X situation are terrible. Make your bed and lie in it./Necessary Man + Honourable Man = hnnnngyes/People finding their way in from the cold is beautiful/I just Really Love Redemption Ok??

I like the dynamic - I am a sucker for The Mean Cold One Falls In Love With The Sunshine One. Also, if we run with Eomer being a little more sly than people assume he is, there is a lot of possibility there with the two of them snaking around one another.

(Grima: I thought I was the only gay snake in the village.)

Grima is a favourite character and I never was into Grima/Eowyn, personally. They’re too similar (two sides of the same coin), so it’s not really my cup of tea. I love dynamic, drastic opposites. Also, I almost never write/engage with straight pairings in fandom. Ever. Because I can’t write straight people. Everyone is bi/queer/something when I write them. (Side-characters are an exception; but main people? Never straight)

Enemies-to-grumblegrumble-to-lovers is the Best Trope; followed closely by we-must-continue-to-pretend-to-be-enemies-for-reputation-reasons.

Court! Politics! Are! Fun! Grima and Eomer as a team is such a ruthless combo and all of Rohan should tremble. Like actually though, great power couple potential.

Angst potential is high! But with catharsis, because this is LOTR after all.

Grima’s subversion of gender is something that speaks to me on a spiritual level. Much of it is born from the classic “evil=effeminate” equation that consciously, or subconsciously, appears in fiction for misogyny/homophobic/etc. reasons. But, it’s present in the text and I am always drawn to those characters and enjoy smashing them together with their polar opposite.

The above is further complicated by Rohan’s hyper-masculine militarized idealization of manliness and what is expected of men in terms of behaviour; occupation; relationships with each other and with women; socialization etc.

Trauma is born from relationships, and it is through relationships that we heal trauma. This isn’t to say that you can “fix” or “heal”or “save” a person, because you can’t. That’s not how things work. But relationships are still integral to healing. Particularly, having safe, healthy ones help give a person the space they need to work through their things and come out the other side.

I love the journey of someone who is on the bad-guy side switching over to the good side but they still remain an ugly person in many ways. Goodness doesn’t require niceness. Grima is a nasty person, but I like the idea of him being a mean piece of work who is has learned to be like I GUESS I WILL MAKE THE MORAL CHOICE FUCK IT FINE. UGH.

Eomer learning kingship, especially in the shadow of Theodred’s death and Aragorn’s Straight-From-A-Fairy-Tale kingship, has buckets of potential. So, adding to that, Grima/Eomer makes for an excellent opportunity to explore power, what it means to lead, what it means to be a real-human-king and not the ideal that is stitched into tapestries and sung about in mead halls.

Related to the above: questions of what it means to be the Necessary Man who makes the Necessary But Often Brutal Decisions are fun to explore, and again, this dynamic really lends itself to it. More so, if you run with Eomer having a bit of a snakish streak in him that he is aware of - take your pick on if he is trying to suppress it; work with it; run with it; ignore it lalala je suis Honourable(tm).

Additionally, the idea of love of country and desire to ensure survival becoming warped into something evil? I live for it. Then finding a way back to the light? Sign me up.

Sorry for the long reply! Again, tl;dr: I like the opposite-attract dynamic; couples-who-bicker is a favourite trope; angst!potential!high!; fun things to explore in terms of leadership/kingship/how do you make a decision when there is no moral choice to be made? All options for X situation are terrible. Make your bed and lie in it./Necessary Man + Honourable Man = hnnnngyes/People finding their way in from the cold is beautiful/I just Really Love Redemption Ok??

Much of what I like about them is bound up in what I like about Grima and his character and the potential that he had to exemplify the idea that it is a kind act, a loving act, that can change the world. Frodo offered his hand, offered forgiveness, offered safety and peace and Grima was going to take it (and all that comes with that, including relearning goodness). But then Tolkien killed him off. What a sad ending.

Anyway - not sure if this makes sense or is helpful as a response!

#LOTR #lord of the rings #Eomer #grima wormtonge #griomer #grima x eomer #ask #reply #anon

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #340

“wash the poison from off my skin / show me how to be whole again”

What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I have this oddly specific memory of bringing my little Snorlax plushie for one in pre-k. I remember thinking everyone thought I was weird for liking Pokemon as a girl. Do you remember losing your first tooth? I don't. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I think I was addicted to World of Warcraft at a point, but it's honestly hard to tell. My depression was just so abysmal that it was the one thing I got even a smidge of not even joy, but active distraction out of because the options of what you can do in the game are essentially limitless. Are you afraid to pop a balloon? Not really, but it does make me jump because I don't like loud noises. Name one person you’d like to see this month. Bitch we fighting Covid, stay away from me. When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don’t know. Which was better: the first The Lion King or the second? They're nearly tied, honestly, but I prefer the original. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? I KNOW my maternal grandmother didn't, and I don't believe any other grandparent did, either. When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Not since I was a kid. What do you usually buy when you go to the corner store? You mean like, a gas station or dollar store? Something small like that? In that case, I'll usually look for a Mountain Dew Voltage sometimes along with something Reese's-related. Do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? My cat, absofuckinglutely. He so obviously loves me. I know my snake doesn't though, considering reptilian brains just physically aren't capable of creating that emotion. She does, however, obviously trust me and definitely seems to enjoy coming out of her terrarium and thus hanging out by me. Bubbles or sidewalk chalk? I loved drawing with chalk, but I like bubbles more. I just love how they catch light and have such beautiful colors to share. What do you use to tell time when your gone out somewhere? My phone. Are you proud of your body? FUCK no. I wish I still was, goddammit. I used to be so fit, and it's funny, because even back then at like, 118 lbs at 5'4'', I thought I was kinda chubby. Like bitch shut the fuck up. Watermelon or cherries? I honestly don't like either, but I'll definitely pick watermelon over cherries. They're disgusting. What is your all-time favourite song? "False Flags" by Massive Attack. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? Biiiiiitch guess lmao. I think everyone has, though. What is the band you’ve listened to most lately? Definitely 3TEETH. Love 'em. Favourite brand of cookies? Hm, good question. They've gotta be good at making SOFT chocolate chip cookies, though. I don't enjoy crunchy cookies nearly as much. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? I don't really know. Oh, y'know, chatting with Edgar Allan Poe would probably be cool. Do you pay for your own things? I literally can't. It's embarrassing. Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? No. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? Certain sexual things I've done, probably. When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Of course. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I felt that way in my friendship with Colleen, but no romantic relationships. What would you consider unforgivable? Rape. Like no, go to hell. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Pre-Covid, yeah. What do you dislike the most about being the gender that you are? Probably how heavily judged women are for having ANYTHING "wrong" with their appearance. You could be five pounds over what is "normal" for your height and you're seen as fat. One strand of body hair, and you're disgusting. Bushy eyebrows, you're now manly. I could go on and on. Do you think that weed/marijuana should be legalized? Yes. Rate your typing speed on a scale from 1 - 10? 10. Do you enjoy tanning? Ugh, no. Just sitting there doing nothing but sweating. Have you ever written anybody an anonymous note? I have not. What is your favorite condiment to go with french fries? Ketchup. Have you ever laid in a hammock? Yeah; we used to have one. It was the best when we lived in the woods. Do you blow dry your hair or do you let it air out? I just let it air dry. Candles or incense? I prefer incense. Can you juggle? No. Your favorite vegetable? Broccoli. Do you catch lizards? No; I don't like terrifying wildlife. I'd much rather just take pictures of the little guys and let them go about their business. If we returned to a world without internet, what aspect of online life would you miss the most? YouTube, haha. It's more unique and personal entertainment than television, imo. Are you craving anything aside from food, and if so, what? I want a new piercinggggg. What was the last change you made to your lifestyle? I'm *trying* to get back into regularly making art, along with reading. I'm also really trying to implement drinking more water into my day. What was the last thing you gave up doing? *shrug* What was the last thing to boost your self-esteem? What sort of things typically make you feel good about yourself? It really, really helped to hear my PHP group enjoy my poem about gay rights so much. I was so terrified and did NOT want my therapist to share it, but it turned out being very beneficial. To answer the second question, it's pretty much stuff like I just mentioned: positive reactions to things I create. When it comes to food, do you prefer crunchy or softer textures? Definitely softer. Do you prefer savory or sweet things for breakfast? Hm. Depends on the day, ig. What is something small that you take extremely personally? I'm blanking. What was going on the last time you couldn’t sleep? I just... couldn't sleep. That's not rare for me. Have you drawn anything recently? I recently drew a picture of a still from Rammstein's "Mutter" music video, and I'm now working on Sara's 'kat Alucard. If you're going somewhere close by, do you walk? No. One simply does not walk in this town and not fear being shot. Do you prefer colorful notebooks over plain ones? I like colorful ones, particularly those with a nice pattern or something on it. What's your most ambitious goal? I'd consider wanting to be a successful freelance photographer to be rather ambitious. Do you know anyone named Alex? Well, knew, by this point. One of my closest online friends that just got a boyfriend and fell off the face of the planet when we used to talk every day. I'm still hurt about it, honestly. What's your favorite kind of pie? I don't like pie because of the crust being so, well... crusty and crumbly. Have you ever chatted someone up and scored a date? No. How far would you go with someone you just met? Not very far at all. All you're getting is a hug, if even that. What's your favorite meal to have for dinner? I mean, it depends on what I feel like having. I don't have a set favorite meal. What do you daydream about? The future, mostly. People I miss. Have you ever known someone online and then met them in person? If so, which website did you meet on? Yes, Sara. <3 We met via YouTube back when it had much more social connection. Have you ever been to the beach? Yeah, a good number of times. When was the last time you were sick and what illness did you have? I don't believe I've been ill in any sort of way since I had that ungodly ear infection a few years ago. Have you ever been kicked out of somewhere? Yeah, Colleen's house. Mom once tried kicking me out of the car one night otw home, but I didn't listen. Have you ever intentionally trolled? No. How many siblings do your parents have? Mom has two brothers and I think one sister, and Dad has one sister. Who last held your hand? My niece or nephew, dragging me somewhere, haha. Have you seen all the Lord of the Rings movies? No, not interested. What was the last thing you watched on YouTube? I'm watching John Wolfe's playthrough of Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs. It's so funny how like... every let's player I watch doesn't enjoy the game, like they miss the incredible symbolism and shy away from the advanced language, and sometimes it's just frustrating to watch them; I only do because I enjoy the game and want to see more people experience it and relive it vicariously. It's very high on my list of favorite games. What sport do you find yourself best at? I wouldn't know; I haven't played any sports in years. I was pretty good at softball as a kid, though. Do you think makeup on guys is freaky or sexy? My opinion shouldn't matter; a man can wear makeup whenever he damn well pleases without worrying what others think. But anyway, I tend to find it attractive, especially if it's goth makeup. Have you ever been accused of a crime you did not commit? No. Do you like pickles? I love dill pickles. What was the craziest moment of your life? Probably just lying in that hospital bed following my OD, my mom and two best friends just sitting there with me. It was such a weird, weird feeling. Like I was just so done, frustrated beyond what I can say. I remember thinking it was almost funny, just how it all built up and went wrong. Where do you spend most of your time? In my room on my bed. What is your favorite muffin? Chocolate chip. Would you ever get a boob job? I already know when/if I lose the weight I want to, it will be kind of a big deal to me and my atrocious body image to get a breast lift. Being overweight ~does things~ you know, and god knows I want every trace of it that can be erased gone. Would you ever go on a reality TV dating show? That's a massive "no" from me, buddy. Would you rather be inside or outside? It depends on where I am and the temperature outside, but generally, inside. Do you like the current president? Well, I voted for him, so I can't shit-talk much. I don't know the true depths of him as a person and all he stands for, though; when I decided I needed to vote, I just did some research on his core values. I don't have any complaints yet, from what I've seen at least, which isn't a lot. Do you whiten your teeth? I've used whitening strips before, but I don't now because they're not that effective. If it's financially plausible at some point in my life, teeth whitening is another thing I want to have medically done because of my previous horrible self-care. My teeth have a clear yellow tint and I hate it. Do you get cold easily? No; it's actually the opposite: I get hot easily. What was the worst sickness you ever had? Probably this one stomach bug I had where I just threw up relentlessly. Like eventually barely even bile would come up; it was just dry heaving. My stomach muscles were in agony. Was your childhood wasted by something? No, thankfully. Would you rather die during an adventure or die like a normal person? A normal person. The idea of having such a sudden death stresses me out for multiple reasons; I mostly don't want my family to just be suddenly devastated, and I honestly want to come to peace with the fact I was dying. Like, find my life's own closure instead of just having it ripped away. Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? Jesus, I sure hope not. Do you have a gag reflex? A very strong one. Do you ever fantasize about trying drugs? I've wondered before what the effects of weed would be like for me, but "fantasize" is definitely the wrong word. Would you rather have sex before you’re married or wait till marriage? It'd be up to my partner, honestly, because I'm fine with either. What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? I never did dares because I thought they were stupid. Like I'm not gonna do dumb shit just to show you I can. Do you know anyone who has been raped? I think I might? Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? Yeah. Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? No. Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Computer. Do you prefer headphones or earbuds? Earbuds. Headphones are just big and clunky and in the way when you use a laptop in bed, plus they irritate my skin. I like how earbuds actually go in your ears for more direct hearing. Would you ever consider adopting a child with a severe mental illness? If I wanted children, no, because I don't think I'm capable to give a child like that adequate care, being so mentally ill myself. I wouldn't want to risk worsening their condition. Favorite thing to do with a significant other? Play games together, particularly cute multiplayer ones that are more about the experience of playing together versus getting past difficult obstacles and such. Like for example, one of my favorite memories with Jason is simply playing Little Big Planet together. Favorite ice cream topping? I don't like many toppings on my ice cream, but I do love melted hot fudge. First boyfriend/girlfriend’s name? Aaron. Do you support PETA? Considering they are incredibly self-righteous extremists, no. Do you believe in the Big Bang Theory? Well, I believe in some sort of "god" figure that created the universe, so I don't think so. A condensed ball of nothing exploding to create something so extravagant? It sounds pretty far-fetched to me. But then again, maybe that semblance of a "god" I believe in created the universe through that, idk. It doesn't really matter now, though, does it. What happened happened, I'm not very concerned with it. What insect can you not stand the site of? It's more so larvae that I can't stand the sight of, like maggots and stuff. They make me squirm. Do you like Doctor Who? I've only seen one or two episodes, so I can't say. Do you approve of gay marriage? Of course I do. I'm bisexual and would like to get married, so I might marry a woman. Are you into politics? I'm really not. Do you think the world is ending soon? Nah, even though it sure does feel like it sometimes. Ever been to a mosh pit? No, they don't seem very fun at all. Do you like to debate? NO. NO NO NO. Do you like the band System of a Down? Yeah, I do. Are you German? It's a big part of my heritage. Do your parents like your best friend? Yes. Who’s someone you can act your complete self around? Sara, 100%. She's the only person I feel entirely comfortable around when it comes to being myself. Do you believe in Friday the 13th? I don't believe in there being any supernatural power to it, no. Who is your favorite rapper? Eminem. What age is your youngest aunt? Uhhhh I have no idea. Do you like bowling? Sure, it's fun. Do you like roasting marshmallows on a bonfire? I do. What shows or characters scared you as a child? Ghostface from the Scream series was my worst fucking nightmare. I couldn't even see pictures of him without crying. The King Ramses guy from Courage the Cowardly Dog also gave me a number of nightmares. Something about the way he was animated was very unnatural and unnerving to me.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''castle of glass'' by linkin park

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thatkidwhodreams · 6 years ago

Text

The Lie

Chapter One

Masterlist

Prologue

Warning: Smut, playful insults

*Three Years Later*

You and Shawn have been together for three years and today just so happened to be your anniversary. It felt like yesterday Shawn asked you to be his girlfriend, he just walked right up to you whilst you were in the library doing a little homework (mostly procrastinating) and he started saying the most random things about you. You can’t lie it did scare you a little but then he sang you one of your favourite songs and you died right there.

You were planning to do something special for your man and that included getting a new set of lingerie. You headed into Victoria’s Secret with your best friend Sofia as she thought you needed some quality ‘best friend’ time. You looked through the plethoras of underwear and undergarments until you found the one you knew would blow Shawn’s mind.

Sofia insisted that she inspects what you pick for your big night. She was VERY picky might you add so it took awhile for her to be satisfied although she wasn’t the only one who was going to be satisfied today *wink* *wink*. Once you’d picked out your new set for tonight you paid for it and then headed out of the store. Victoria’s Secret would finally be out tonight.

Shawn was at work well, that was what he said so you and Sofia had more time to yourselves. You decided on a few tv shows and frozen pizza you might as well eat up before the exercise later. Shadowhunters was currently on and you and Sofia were lowkey hitting on Alec Lightwood.

“He’s so handsome, it’s too bad he’s gay we would’ve made a cute couple.” You spoke dreamily

Sofia threw a pillow at you

“Ow WHAT THE HELL!” You screamed a little dramatically.

“YOU HAVE A FUCKING BOYFRIEND STOP HITTING ON ALEC AND LEAVE SOME ROOM FOR THE SINGLETONS!”

“SORRY” You replied sarcastically. “ I didn’t realise that I wasn’t allowed to like fictional characters.”

The discussion went on for hours from Stiles Stilinski in Teen Wolf to Jeff Atkins from 13 Reasons Why and how he was an adorable soul who deserved better.

“Let’s prank call Shawn” Sofia blurted out in sudden excitement.

“OMG YESSS GO AND GET THE BRICK PHONE THAT NOBODY USES!”

Sofia ran to the corner and picked up the Nokia 216. You took the phone off her and dialed Shawn’s number. It picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” A voice spoke from the other side.

You put on your best feminine voice higher than your usual one and spoke.

“Local sperm bank you jack it we pack it. Is this Shawn?”

“Erm….I think you might have the wrong number?”

“No, this is Mr Shawn Mendes right?”

Sofia was giggling in the background and you muttered a quick “shh”

You spoke again “Am I right?”

“Okay ma’am I think you might be confu-“ Shawn replied but you cut him off.

“You are the sperm donor right?”

“Erm…….” Then the line cut off. You and Sofia burst out laughing.

“What happened?”

“He hung up” you spoke as tears were in your eyes. “He was so confused.”

“Haaaaaaaa” Sofia’s mouth was wide open as she too was dying from this prank.

After a while you calmed down and had a sudden idea to get drunk for no reason after all it was still your anniversary.

Suddenly you heard the door open and a voice scream “I’m home.” It was a voice you knew oh so well.

“Sorry Sofie but bae is back!” You said rising from your current position. “Your presence is no longer required.”

“Hey! We were gonna get druuuuuunk!”

“Not today sis.”

“Before you go lemme just tell you, the craziest thing happened today.”

You and Sofia looked at each other.

“What happened?” You asked

“Some lady called me on an unknown number asking if I was a sperm donor for the local sperm bank. I don’t recall being a sperm donor.”

You and Sofia burst out laughing again.

“OH LORD!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY BABE I WAS TRAUMATISED!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You walked up to him and kissed him.

“Mmmhhhhmmm it’s okay I’m feeling a little better anyway.”

“Oh yeah? The only sperm you’re going to be donating is in here.” You guided his hands to your private area.

“Erm….I think I’ll take this as my que to leave.” Sofia said awkwardly

“Wait, nooooo don’t go.”

“I’M LEAVING NOOOOW. BYEEEE ENJOY YOUR STEAMY MAKEOUT SESSION WITH MORE TO COME LITERALLY MORE TO CO-!”

“OKAY YOU CAN GO NOW!”

Both of your eyes followed her as she headed into her car and drove off.

“Wow she is a handful.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Heeeeey what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and her are like twins. Seriously, you’re like a Jack-in-the-box popping out at random times and giving people the craziest shock of their lives.”

You gasped and folded you arms with a slight pout on your face. “That was mean!”

“I’m sorry baby hey I got you something.” Shawn pulled out a rectangular box. You looked over at it and still pouted in the corner.

Shawn sighed “Please forgive me babe.”

“NO!”

“Okay but you’re still gonna see what I got you, it just might change your mind.” Shawn opened the box and your eyes narrowed to take a little glance at it, you were trying to be as discreet as possible. He opened the box and it revealed a necklace with Shawn’s initials on it.

“You’re full of yourself aren’t you?”

Shawn chuckled “No babe it’s a reminder and a sign that I’m yours. You have one with my initials and I have one of yours.” He pulled out a necklace which laid on his chest that was hidden in his shirt and on it were your initials nicely engraved. You couldn’t hold your grudge any longer so your walls broke right there.

“Awwwww Shawn that’s so sweet. I LOVE IT!”

“Oh I nearly forgot your surprise is upstairs. I’m just gonna go upstairs and get it. Close your eyes NO PEEKING!”

“Okay babe.” Shawn said as he smiled at his beautiful girlfriend and soon to be wife who just so happened to be you.

You headed upstairs and got undressed to put on the lingerie that Sofia helped you pick out. Then you headed a call from downstairs.

“Princess, are you nearly ready. I’ve been waiting for ages!”

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see you do it. “Oh shut up! Your eyes have only been closed for three minutes!”

You heard him groan and sigh but you ignored him and carried on. Once you were done you looked at yourself in the full length mirror and adjusted a few things. You walked out of the room and stayed at the top of the stairs.

“Okay, you can look now.”

Shawn opens his eyes and his mouth was wide open.

“Babe……”

You didn’t know what was up but you began to feel a little self conscious. So you hid yourself a little.

“Do you not like it?”

“What! No babe I love it. You look so sexy right now.” Shawn groaned.

“Reeaalllyy?”

“Yes, ugh. I can’t even.”

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but all of a sudden your pride came back and you walked back into your bedroom knowing Shawn would look like a lost puppy and follow you.

“Hey! Babe, wait up.”

You giggled and sat on the bed cross legged and three seconds later Shawn burst in the room panting a bit. All the man did was run up the bloody stairs. It was only fifteen goddamn steps!

“So….this is my anniversary present right?”

You rolled your eyes so hard you thought it might’ve stayed there.

“What do you think?!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Shawn apologised.

You and Shawn has a playful relationship you’d just insult each other for no particular reason and pretend to be upset. But it all ended in kisses and cuddles later on.

You and Shawn just stared at each other like two pups in love until Shawn leaned forward and before you knew it your lips were moulded into each other. You leaned back into the bed leaving Shawn on top of you. Shawn broke the kiss taking his shirt off, your eyes seeing nothing else but his abs. Shawn continued to kiss you and leave a trail of kisses on your collarbone and down to your stomach.

“Babe, it’s not fair that I’m the only one taking something off.” Shawn said as he was about to tear your new bra off.

“Hey! Don’t tear it this is brand new okay. Be gentle.”

“Calm your tits! I’ll buy you another one.” And just like that he tore your bra open and you groaned in pleasure and annoyance. He muttered a quick “sorry” and continued his assault on your breasts.

You guided his hands down to your panties and bucked your hips into his hands.

“Shawwwnnnn!” You cried as he started taking your panties off in a more civilised way than he did to your bra.

You ran your fingers through his chocolate curls as he started pumping into you with his fingers.

“Gosh baby, you’re so wet.”

“What do you expect with you doing me like this?” You chuckled.

Shawn started laughing “Hush child.”

“CHILD?! I’m only two months younger than you!”

“Shhh” He said placing a finger on your lips. With his other hand he continued to pump into you and you moaned. He added another finger and began going a little faster, you were sure to break right there. Then he stopped.

“Heyyyyy!” You exclaimed and you hit his chest. He just kissed your cheek.

“Yup you’re ready for me now.”

“Ready for what? That tiny twig there? What’s its name again I think it was Frank or something.”

Shawn looked hurt but he knew you were playing around so he gasped in a fake manner. “Take that back!”

“Why should I take back the truth?”

“Because we know you want us and if you don’t take it back we won’t satisfy you.” He said getting up off the bed and walking out of the room.

“Wait you can’t leave me like this! Okay, okay I’m sorry! Come back! I need you!”

Shawn came back a few seconds later as he was hiding behind the hinges of the door. He didn’t really leave he was just waiting for an apology and if he didn’t get one he was planning on getting himself off.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Ugh I’m sorry, now please help me out. I know you need this as much as I do.”

You showed him your puppy dog eyes knowing that he couldn’t say no to you and just like that you had him wrapped around your little finger again.

He got back on the bed and finished what he was doing before and you sure as hell came.

He then started taking off his Calvin Klein boxers that he recently bought and modelled for you a few times. Now his ‘little’ friend was fully out.

“Are you okay? Is this ‘tiny twig’ too much for you to handle?” Shawn asked cockily (pun intended).

You scoffed “Pshh no of course not now hurry please.”

Shawn slowly slid himself into you and you moaned. He went a little slow at first, giving you enough time to adjust to him and he wrapped his mouth around your right nipple and started tweaking the other. Shortly, he switched and moved onto the other one causing you to let out a short groan which seemed to be contagious as Shawn groaned too. He began rolling his hips faster hitting a certain spot inside you making you scream and he shut his eyes harder which was a sign that he was about to come.

“I’m so close Shawn.”

“Me too baby.” He groaned. A few more thrusts later you both hit your highs and came together.

Shawn rolled off you and the two of you started panting like there was no tomorrow.

“So much for a tiny twig huh?” Shawn said sarcastically as he was holding you like a fragile being.

“Shut up!”

“Ha, I’m kidding. I love you so much babe happy anniversary.” Shawn kissed your cheek, nose then lips.

“I know right I’m amazing.” Shawn pinches your sides.

“Okay, okay I love you too honey happy anniversary I hope you enjoyed my little present.”

“I loved it!” And the both of you snuggled the whole night until you drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Two

A/N: This is my first time writing smut It’s pretty bad I know but I’ll get better at it. I’m not gonna lie but this is totally me if I was to ever be with Shawn. Feedback is always appreciated, I don’t bite. ❤️

#shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes #shawn mendes smut #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fanfic #the lie

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yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy · 5 years ago

Text

There is something people can’t talk about regarding the Dalish

So let me talk about something, and I don't know how to preface it so let me just come right out and say it.

I feel like there's this unspoken rule that the Dalish can't be criticized, and there also seems to be this unwillingness to ascribe negative traits to their culture that we would otherwise assume of other cultures, fictional or real.

I say this because I *feel* it. I feel as though I can't write anything critical of Dalish without people assuming that I'm somehow an imperialist or something, that I'm badmouthing an indigenous group because *that's just what's been done*.

Let me try to explain.

So we have the Dalish, a group of people whose plights and history can be equated to that of the Jews (rumors of blood libel and child sacrifice, forced conversion, their brethren being sequestered in ghettos in the cities, frequent victims of attempted annihilation, scapegoats for mishaps that happen in human villages and such); indigenous peoples (living in non-urban societies that worship polytheistic deities, the original backstory prior to the revelation in Trespasser aligns with slow erosion of their culture through human settlements and disease, victims of attempted annihilation, considered barbaric for their rustic lifestyles); and Romani/Sinti (nomadic, located on the outskirts of established societies, also victims of scapegoating).

Okay, we got that out of the way. We have that established.

But can we also be completely honest with ourselves and say that the Dalish are NOT a monolithic group of people but also have cultural variations? The only things that tie them together is the fact that they are elves that worship Elvhen gods, they wear vallaslin, and they are nomadic. That's basically it. That's all we really know about them from that. Beyond that, the canon, the creative minds behind Dragon Age, and the offical outside sources like art books, novels, and comics clearly establish that there are differences in dialect, relationship with humans, their views of magic, and even their views of sexuality.

That last one is what I want to talk about most.

This is a game series that has been a refuge for non-straight people. The universe is accepting of LGBTQA people in a way that few other game franchises, if at all, have. I get that. I understand wanting to preserve this great source of representation and acceptance that runs through the game's universe. There is also the turning of stereotypical fantastical racism on its head. The parallel between the treatment of the Dalish and indigenous peoples is great politics. I love learning about it. I love talking about it in the context of the story and as a reflection of real-world history, but...

What I'm trying to get this conversation to point to, really, is the fact that I see that people are unwilling to entertain the idea that some Dalish clans may not in fact, gasp, be necessarily LGBTQA-friendly, but more specifically, Lesbian-Gay-Asexual*-friendly.

It seems to be a kneejerk reaction to assume that a marginalized group will accept another marginalized group, and there's somewhat of a real-life precedent for it, given that gender roles were less strict in certain native tribes than in Europe, what with two-spirits and similar concepts. Now that is very valid, and there may indeed be Dalish tribes that believe in that sort of thing...

When the controversial user FenxShiral was still on here, he answered questions about language and Dalish culture. These were all his headcanons, and some of the ones where he offered his opinion on how the Dalish viewed certain sexualities drew the ire of some members of the Dragon Age community.

If I remember correctly, he said that not all clans accept homosexuality, and asexuality is also considered odd. People thought he was being homophobic and acephobic.

But here's the deal, and let me try to expand upon this without sounding too ADD.

-- If we go all the way back to the Old Testament of the Bible, there is a lot of talk of who can't sleep with whom and how you can sleep with this person and why you can't masturbate and all that. Now think of the context: These are tribes emerging to carve out a stable civilization. Death is commonplace. Famine, drought, war, and disease is commonplace. Infant mortality is high, on average. Grown adults die off easily. For the sake of the tribe or clan surviving, babies need to be made and be made regularly. Let's ignore the institution of marriage for a moment because that's about property and assuring a family line is kept intact...there is no room for gay people who are unwilling to make babies in this society. There is no room for asexuals* who do not want to have sex or have children. There is no room for people who do not want to do what's "best for the community" and give up their personal happiness for the sake of the tribe or clan. That is the fact of the matter.

A lot of LGBT activism and thought intersects with individuality and personal autonomy. "I am LGBTQA. What I do sexually is my business. I owe nothing to no one else." This is a very MODERN way of thinking, this idea that you should make yourself happy and that people should leave alone what does not affect them. Tribes and small-knit communities are not very individualistic by nature because they require full participation and equal amounts of sacrifice from everyone in order to keep the wheel turning, to keep the clan alive. These are societies that do not have an excessive amount of people that could do with 10% of women not getting pregnant or a few men choosing not to impregnate people. They can’t survive a major upset that could suddenly wipe out half their tribe and have one in five be unwilling to help resupply people.

As for the argument of "Well, what if they are gay and are willing to get someone pregnant/become pregnant, but still want a same-sex lover?" I would say that religion could likely come into play. Either the society will say "okay, I'll allow that cuz kids are getting made and that’s what I’m asking for" OR they'll say "doesn't matter, sex is for procreation only".

But going back to the Dalish and homosexuality. We have no proof that all Dalish are LGBT friendly. In fact, I would argue that it is the direct result of the small number of them that AT LEAST SOME CLANS would be less inclined to allow clan members to remain exclusively in same-sex relationships because it would mean fewer Dalish children are being made. That's going to be two women not carrying children and two men not impregnating. The Dalish are always struggling to keep their numbers up. On the one hand, the cities are dens of disease and violence, on the other hand, the Dalish have to contend with the elements, wild animals, and the wrath of local lords and peasants who want to run them off their camping grounds. Then there are those who wish to leave for the cities, or who fall in love with city folk. It is implied that certain tribes consider clanmates who match up with humans or non-Dalish to be "half-breeds" of a sort, "traitors" to their People, and it varies as to whether children of this union will be accepted by their Dalish family (as far as I know, this contrasts with the typical custom of North American native tribes who would readily accept mixed race children into their tribes).

The Dalish love children because children are great, yes, but also because they are a living future legacy. Someone who refuses to impregnate/get pregnant is not acting with the future survival of the clan in mind. Same thing with someone who is gay and does not want to carry a child or help conceive one. Now there may perhaps be a window open for the gay uncle or aunt to help rear children, but the Dalish obviously have developed a culture that values lots of kids because it is an unmistakable sign that their customs and traditions will carry on into the future.

So I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that not just the fact that the Dalish may be less tolerant of gays than you want to believe, but that being against homosexuality may not have anything to do with reasons like "gay sex is eww" or one's faith but that it could come from a utilitarian or pragmatic standpoint, cultural or existential or what-have-you. It's the same reason why the Tevinter Imperium is "anti-gay". It has nothing to do with the fact that homosexuality is bad, necessarily, because like in Greece and Rome there were context-heavy situations where it was allowed and tolerated, but because being exclusively homosexual and refusing to even pretend to "marry the girl" and have a kid jeopardizes this particular society's eugenic-based infrastructure: The upper class NEED to breed with each other to have perfect mages that will breed with other perfect mages to have more perfect mage children. This maintains the status quo and the hierarchy. As an Altus you can have a boytoy elf slave, you can probably even canoodle with a man of a lower class because you have that social superiority, but you cannot canoodle with another Altus because it's distracting both of you from your duty of siring children.

Now I’ll bet I’ll get people coming out of the woodwork accusing me of trying to justify homophobia or acephobia, but I’m not. I’m Bi and I guess a bit Asexual. I’m trying to explain why it is not homophobic or acephobic to entertain the idea that some Dalish clans may be more leery of gay or asexual* clan members. Again, the Dalish are not a monolithic group. They are a bunch of different elf family groups that have rejected the Chantry and human civilization. Beyond that and a few cultural staples, they operate fairly independent of each other and developed their own way of maintaining their autonomy and existence.

It is like how anti-capitalists are also not a monolithic group. The only thing they share among them is their rejection of capitalism and perhaps even share reasons why they hate it. Beyond that, the proposed alternatives vary widely from socialism to anarchy.

* Specifically, those who are sex-repulsed/disinterested

#dalish #dragon age: origins #DA2 #DA:I #tevinter

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khadij-al-kubra · 6 years ago

Text

Thomas in Wonderland (ch 4)

Characters: Thomas (fictional), Virgil, Roman, Patton, Logan, Remy, Emile, Joan, Talyn, Deceit, Nate, The Dragon Witch, fan adopted short vid characters

Word Count: 2400 (no betas, we die like mortals)

Summary: Thomas plays a game and says a swear word.

Author’s Note: *blows cloud of dust off this work that's accumulated since the last chapter* I know. It's been a while. Sincerest apologies. Apparently juggling multiple creative projects while also balancing personal life stuff is...trickier than I anticipated. Thank you to everyone who's still stuck around with this story, it truly means a lot. And trust me, you're going to like what's coming next, because we'll finally be seeing the sides! Starting with a certain necktie wearing blue caterpillar... ;D

I'll do my best to update more frequently, if not consistently since my posting schedule tends to get more sporadic than the Red Queen's mood swings.

Now then, back to our irregularly scheduled madness...

<=PREV

Animals & Improv

Just keep swimming; just keep swimming, Thomas mentally sang to himself, even though he was not swimming but floating along rather peacefully. As Thomas let his body float along, he tried to keep a sharp eye out for anything he could use as a raft or flotation device. Or maybe a bank of dry land he could swim to. He still wanted to find the Black Rabbit, or at least a place to dry off.

“Come on, there’s gotta be a leaf or a log or somethi—Oof.“

The current made Thomas collide into something. It felt warm and soft, albeit damp. And the thing had a tiny hand clamped on the sleeve of his jacket. Oh dear lord please don’t let it be a killer sea creature!

“Sorry man,” said the something that was not a sea creature.

It was a rat with brownish russet fur that almost looked orange in the sunlight. Poor thing was soaked ear to tail; yet he seemed to not be very much bothered by their current predicament. Frankly Thomas was a little bit impressed by this rat’s very chill attitude. As for the talking factor, well, at this point not much surprised him.

“Thought you were a raft,” said the Rat.

“Oh, no I’m not a raft,” said Thomas, happy to find he wasn’t alone. “I’m a Thomas.”

“Hello. I’m a Toby named Rat. Or a Rat named Toby. Depends on the day, and today, I’m Toby.”

“Nice to meet you Toby. Just wish the circumstances were better,” said Thomas. “Say, is there a raft around here though? Like a rescue party or something?”

“Dunno. Maybe,” said Toby. “What would a raft look like? Does it look anything like a rat? Oh I hope it’s not made of rats, or that would be bad news for me!”

“Umm it’s like a big, wide, sometimes flat thing you can float on,” said Thomas.

“Oh, you mean like that?” Toby asked, pointing over Thomas’s shoulder.

Thomas turned around to where Toby was pointing and saw that, indeed, there was a raft. Not one make of rats, thankfully, but rather of tied together branches drifting their way. It even had a mast with a rainbow flag tied on top and flapping in the breeze. There even seemed to be a few other animals riding on it as well.

“Yes! Yes, exactly like that. We’re SAVED!” Thomas cheered. “Come on Toby, we can swim straight toward—

“GAAAHHHH!!!” screamed Toby.

“What? What’s wrong, are you alright?” Thomas asked, worried that the Mouse might be drowning.

“How can you say such a cursed S word?” asked Toby, clearly aghast but very much not drowning.

“What, swim?”

“No, no, that’s as harmless as a cat.”

“…Saved?”

“Not yet we aren’t. Come on let’s swim ahead. They seem to be meeting us halfway, you silly goose.”

“I’m not a goose, I’m a man.”

“A goose can’t be a man too?”

“…You know what? Never mind.”

“Can’t never a mind if you haven’t got the right kind.”

Thomas was very confused but decided not to press the matter further. Goodness knows, he didn’t want to end up in a defensive argument again like he had with those mean flowers. So he and Toby swam forward until their fingertips touched the edge of the raft, which was indeed made out of wood and thankfully not rats. A shadow was cast over them, and Thomas looked up only to be faced with a rather large crab. Thomas might have been frightened of it under normal circumstances but by this point, the only thing that really would surprise him is if something relatively normal happen.

“Well hi there precious,” said the Crab, in a sort of southern drawl. “Looks like you’re in need of some assistance.”

“Yes! Yes we are,” Thomas said, relieved.

He expected the Crab to pull both him and Toby onto the safety of their raft. However, they just kept a clawed grip on them as they bobbed along. After a pause the Crab spoke again, giving Thomas a pointedly expecting look.

“Yes aaand?” he asked.

“Um, yes and, I’d really appreciate it if you pulled me and Toby up onto your raft, please?” asked Thomas.

"Now that’s more like it sugar! Yes and sugar, I can certainly do that.”

The Crab pulled Thomas out of the water with one claw and Toby out with the other. Thomas was sopping wet and incredibly grateful to be on a solid dry surface again. He saw Toby shake himself out to dry his wet fur like a puppy would. Unfortunately Thomas wasn’t able to get dry that way, sadly, but he did take his shoes off and wring out his socks. I’m sure nobody will mind, Thomas though as he pulled off his left then right sneaker, then his right and left sock, and then wiggled his raisiny wrinkled toes. There was nothing worse than the feeling of wet socks, no matter what world within or without of a rabbit hole you were in. It was just a universal unpleasantness. Hopefully the suns warm rays would help dry him off a bit.

“You can call me Mike by the way,” said the wide faced Crab, whose name was Mike.

“Thank you Mike. My name’s Thomas and he’s Toby—“

“I don’t believe you,” said another voice.

Thomas turned towards the source and saw a Dodo bird wearing a French Revolution style jacket and three point hat with a rainbow feather in it. Despite Dodos being extinct and probably being nowhere near France, this honestly wasn’t the strangest thing Thomas has seen today. So it was somewhat believable that one would be talking to him.

“Um, but that is my name,” he said. “My name is Thomas Sanders—”

“Yes, and I am Magenta, Captain of this vessel, as you can tell from the feather in my hat. And these are my troupe of buccaneers.”

The endangered if not extinct Dodo gestured a stubby wing towards the two other creatures aboard the raft. There was Mike the crab, and a Duck whose name Thomas did not yet know. Along with him and Toby, they were a queer group to say the least. (In both the old and new sense of the word, he would guess form the rainbow flag) Still, it cheered Thomas up to not be floating alone anymore. On top of that, the sun was finally drying him off. Thomas couldn’t believe his luck.

“I don’t believe it,” he said, with a grateful smile.

“Alright,” said Magenta. “Then I am Magenta, Admiral of this vessel, as you can tell from my macaroni. And these are my troupe of hostages”

“Wait what?” Thomas asked, thoroughly confused and a little anxious. Suppose the reverse could be worse, he thought.

“Yes,” said the Duck. “And I am Brian, the senior hostage, for I am the oldest.”

“Um, I don’t believe you sugar cube,” said Mike.

“I am Brian, the newest hostage, for I am the most clever,” said Brian.

“I don’t believe you!” Toby chimed in.

All four animals looked towards Thomas expectantly. Ohhh now I get it.

“I don’t believe you?” Thomas asked, familiar with the rules of the game, now that he recognized it.

“For I am the dumbest,” said Brian.

“I don’t believe you,” said Mike, giggling.

“For I am the most gay,” said Brian.

“Yes and,” said Magenta with a solemn nod. “Although, it could always be gayer.”

“Yes and!” They all chimed together.

Thomas found himself actually having fun for the first time since he’d arrived in this strange place. It sure was a good thing he’d gotten better at improv since practicing so much with Joan. Maybe he could even use this as a way to get some directions. If not, well, at least they could keep playing until someone saw dry land. Hopefully.

“Yes, and I had seen a…white rabbit earlier today,” said Thomas.

“I don’t believe you,” said Toby.

Thomas grinned to himself, proud of how clever he was being. “I had seen a Black Rabbit earlier, but lost it.”

“I don’t believe you sweet pea,” said Mike.

“A-about the first or second half?”

“Yes and,” said Mike.

“O-kaaay, It was a black rabbit, and I was trying to catch up to him.“

“I don’t believe you,” said Magenta.

“…It was a Black. Rabbit. And—“

“I don’t believe you,” all four animals said.

Thomas groaned. “Geez, okay, well, I’m not going to change that part. Screw the rules. I am sticking to my guns with that, because it WAS a Black Rabbit and it ran away from me, and I have to find him because he dropped his pocket watch and I want to give it back to him.”

“Yes and,” said Brian. Thomas smacked himself on the forehead. “I saw a Rabbit shaped fellow earlier with black fur and a purple waistcoat.”

Thomas perked up. “You did!? I mean, Yes! And?”

“Yes and he was doggy paddling anxiously through the water, so clearly he was actually a rabbit shaped Dog.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Magenta.

“I do! I believe you,” said Thomas. The rest of them paid him no mind though.

“Alright then. He was a rabbit shaped paddle,” said Brain.

“Yes,” said Mike. “And he swam that gay, on his way to the Red Queen’s castle.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Toby.

"He was on his was to the Yellow King's castle."

"Yes and!"

Thomas let out a big sign and sat down on the raft as the others continued to play. This was getting ridiculous. He thought for sure he was starting to get on the right track, but then they had to keep imposing their own ideas into his line. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he didn’t like that what he knew was the right thing was being dragged so much you might as well call it left. At a certain point, even a ridiculous story line had to have some truth and consistency to it. I mean you can spell madness without sense…I think?

Fortunately Thomas hadn’t gotten too deep into mulling this verbatim verses spelling conundrum. Otherwise he might have missed the very distinct strip of land that came into view over the water. And it was getting bigger and bigger, as though the mainland itself had drunken from one of those growth sodas. Either way, Thomas hadn’t been so happy to see dry land since his uncle’s last fishing trip.

“Land hoe!” Thomas said, pointing ahead.

When he turned towards the rest of the strange crew, they didn’t share in his excitement like he thought they would. If anything, the animals shot him a look that could almost read as judgy-wudgy.

“Now there’s no need for that kind of language sugar bean,” said Mike, his claws tut-tutting. “If a piece of land wants to be sex-positive, that is their prerogative.”

“No, no not that kind a— I meant there’s land straight ahead.”

“GAAAHH!” All the animals screamed.

“What? What did I say!?” asked a startled Thomas.

“How DARE YE say the ‘S’ word!” said Magenta, his beady eyes glaring.

“Again!” Toby said, tail trembling.

“What would your mother say!?” Mike asked, aghast.

“She certainly wouldn’t say that,” said Brian. “A self respecting mother would sooner stick a bar of soap in her own mouth. That always teaches naughty mouthed boys a lesson in saying bad words.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Wait…you mean ‘straight?’” asked Thomas. They gasped. “All I said was there’s land straight ahe—“

Another terrified scream. Brian looked about ready to faint.

“Now really, you all are being silly. There’s nothing wrong with the word straight.” They screamed again. “And we’ve got to steer this raft on a straight—”

Again they screamed, gasped, and yes even fainted. Those still conscious gambled about aghast across the deck or around the rainbow flagged mast. Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes. And they call me a gay disaster.

“—coarse.” Thomas sighed.

This was clearly getting him nowhere, and he wanted off this raft. Fortunately the tide was on his side, and as the waves rolled them forward he could see that the water was just shallow enough for him to wade hip deep through. So he grabbed his sun dried shoes and socks, (held above his head of course because what would be the point of them getting wet again?) and carefully lowered himself off the side of the raft into the water. His feet sunk into soft sea soil but at least he could stand. Thomas would have said his thanks and goodbyes to the animals, but given their current state he thought better of it. So he simply started wading through the water towards shore.

At last, he touched dry land. Thomas took a full breath of relief. From his current vantage point, it looked as though he had stumbled upon the outer edges of a tropical island. With long green stems for trees, soft brown sand, and in the distance the greenery rustled with (he shuddered to think) the scurrying of animals or insects. But he reasoned that by normal Thomas-sized standards, it was probably just a regular garden. To think that his river of tears had likely been nothing more than a silly puddle problem, although it certainly had felt bigger at the time.

“Well that was the oddest trip on a boat I ever took,” he said, grabbing a blade of grass to towel dry his legs with. “At least it wasn’t boring. Now to figure out where I am…Probably would be easier if I was people sized again.”

Indeed, while crying himself a river had improved Thomas’s mood, it did nothing to improve his current height. He immediately regretted not saving some of that soda. At the very least, the silver pocket watch was still with him.

“Okay new plan,” he said as he put his socks and shoes back on. “Get back to me size, then find the Black Rabbit and give him his pocket watch back. He’s probably worried sick over it, poor guy…Guess I’ll just walk straight ahead till I find a path.”

If Thomas has strained to listen, he might have heard the echo of a queer troupe of animals crying out from across the water.

NEXT=>

General Tag List: @quoth-the-sparrow @altruistic-skittles @em-be-lievable @justisaisfine @broadwaytheanimatedseries@thekeytohappiness-is-you @jynxlovesluck @queer-human-being@phlying-squirrel @ab-artist @grey-lysander @a-valorous-choice@xx-fandom-potato-xx @impatentpending @book-of-charlie@randomslasher @tinkslittlebelle @insanelycoolish @ironwoman359@icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper@patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox@smokeyrutilequartz @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton@notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides@lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @unikornavenger @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @backatthebein @mephonic @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans@loganberrysanders @icequeenoriginal @ierindoodles @a-new-witch-in-learning @punsterterry @goldteethandacurseforthistown @your-average-pangirl

Wonderland AU Tag List: @thatsthat24 @punsterterry @mycatshuman @to-precious-to-process @amazable01 @monstercupcake61176 @pinkbea09 @aliceofscarletflames @llamaavocado @justsomerandomhooman @romano-cheesy @grade-a-trash-blog @chituri @dangerfishie @bat-fangirl77-fan @icantbeme71097 @thesassiersilv101 @the-psycho-pie @satanblessi @elementalshadowwitch @stuck-in-a-surrealist-painting @journalanxiety @atomics-writings @notcool88@purplelamaart @stuck-in-a-constant-daydream @thunderstorms-roar @sanderssidesstuff @wheezewhats-life @sillydeer39 @starbucks-remy @sugarglider9603

#KDsWriting #Thomas in Wonderland AU #thomas sanders #character thomas #sanders sides #sanders sides fandom

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go-diane-winchester · 6 years ago

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How Misha ruined slash fiction

THIS IS AN EDITED REPOST.

I first got into fandom slash fiction because of Lord of the Rings. Before that I had no idea there were others like me. The Ringers, as I prefer to call them, were the nicest slash fans and gave me the erroneous impression that slashers are really lovely girls. How wrong I was. But almost twenty years ago, I [and my generational demographic] had the semblance of mind to differentiate between fact and fantasy. I came across the definition of slash fiction, way back then. Its was generically defined as fanwork done by women for women. Of course one would argue that men like slash fiction too. Correction. Straight and Bi women like slash fiction. Gay or bisexual men like Bara. That is something that they indulge in because it is attractive to them. How trans people fit into this dynamic, would be an interesting study for the future and I have already done a post on that subject.

Straight women are completely different. How straight women show their attraction and what they are attracted to, is completely different to what gay or bi men like. Even bisexual women are still women and still writing from a female perspective. For decades, and I am counting the pre-star trek era, that was how things were. Women, for decades, had no other platform for sexual expression except slash fiction. The phenomenon started in the East, and spread all over the world. But Eastern and Western slash are completely different from one another. Why don't women just write something with a man and a woman? This is where we notice that slashers and other women are completely different. Slashers don't like to watch another woman’s love story. Its not satisfying for us. We can write ourselves as the other half of a pairing, like a Mary Sue scenario, but to be honest, its not the most popular genre because the only woman truly satisfied with the story is the writer herself. Women, very seldom, bond over Mary Sues. But slash stories are discussed as a way of bonding over a common interest.

Classic slash was hidden. It was underground, which was good because the uncultured riff raff stayed away. It was the ultimate girl talk. It surprised us, how similar our desires were and what we found attractive. Remember the faulty character Becky Rosen? Even though she is problematic, the moment Sam licked his thumb and wiped the ink stain off her nose, many of us turned into embarrassing swoony puddles. Why? He was cleaning her nose, for goodness sake. What’s so cute about that? I don’t know. We all just gushed at him. Remember Dean spinning the Impala in the episode “Baby”. I played that bit again and again. It had nothing to with sex. Dean was handling a car but I remember having a flushed face over it.

I read somewhere that foreplay starts in the kitchen. This applies to women anyway. So warming your girl up starts way before you even get her to the bedroom. So you start with a candle lit dinner and soft music and slow dancing. While he may be ready when he walks in through the door, she will need wining, dining, dancing and lovey dovey talk to get interested. Usually. Sometimes, she will appear suddenly turned on, but no, she just saw her husband helping an old man cross the street, and she thought ’‘why is he so stinking cute? Wait till I get my hands on him’’. But that is once in a while. We don’t switch on and off like men. We are, by nature, cautious creatures. Getting us in the mood is as important as the act of lovemaking itself. That is why art that is geared to women, generally, is over-the-top and melodramatic, indulging the foreplay more than the sex.

Ryan Gosling with a boom box [or whatever you call that thing] standing on top a car, confessing his undying love = foreplay. Jack Dawson making Rose stand at the head of the ship [or whatever you call it], making her imagine she’s flying = foreplay. Is it necessary to the story? Nope. Will the Titanic stay buoyant because Jack didn’t make Rose fly? Nah, its will still sink. Do we like it, nonetheless? Oooh, yeah.

For the past 80 or so years, we have kept slash fiction solely to ourselves because:

men wont appreciate it because its not their “thing”

men will misunderstand it [case in point: Misha Collins]

because it was sexual fantasy and some of us would prefer not to share that openly.

Did male actors speak about it when they did find out? Yes, in passing, especially if they were the subject of the story. A reporter or crew member would always tell them. In the case of J2, Kim Manners apparently told them what he had found on the internet. The Lord of the Rings cast found out because of Peter Jackson. What was their reaction? The same as all the other actor’s reactions: They would smirk/laugh about it, make a joke and move on. Then Misha Collins came along. The first time he had spoken about slash fiction, I had winced. Apparently, judging from the audience reaction, so had they. We really didn’t want this spoken about, openly, for two reason.

1] He was speaking to a general audience during his panel. Some of them don’t care for slash fiction and no, homophobia has nothing to do with it. If it doesn’t float your boat, it just doesn’t. Keep throwing the word homophobia around, unnecessarily, and its going to eventually lose its effectiveness because it is frequently being used to bully people into doing what you want, rather than for equality. So no, Jensen Ackles is not a homophobe because he doesn’t want to be up close and personal with Misha Collins. Grow up.

2] The sane slashers of those days, [and it was a decade ago] didn’t want their personal naughty little secrets spoken about so candidly in a public setting. Why? Let me illustrate. If you tell your friends, in a personal setting, how you like when a man runs his hands all over your body, it will illicit some “oohs” and giggles followed by their own contributions to the discussion. If you are sitting with that same gaggle of friends at a crowded restaurant and you say the same thing loudly for the whole room to hear, what will they think of you, especially if they have children with them.

Slash used to be one of those things a lady never spoke about in public, no matter how empowered she thought she was. Personally, I don’t think a lady has to relinquish her femininity and decency in order to feel empowered. That’s why I don’t like women, like Kim and Briana, who call themselves bitches to show how tough they are. Sure, I will break a man's face, if he puts his hands on me, but that doesn’t mean that I have no feminine qualities, and I won't exhibit this aggressive side of myself with a loving and caring man. I guess things have changed since the early days, and women are different now. But this is just my opinion and not relevant to the subject at hand.

If Misha knew how to gauge the audience, he would have understood there and then, that this is not a suitable topic to indulge in, where the audience was mixed and included some younger people, i.e., teens and children. What he did, was to keep running his mouth off about something he didn’t know. And its shows in the way he refers to Destiel as pseudo-porn. His fans were very angry about it, because it lessened their artistic efforts to pornography and nothing else. He said he went on Wikipedia to learn more about slash fiction. For a man who went to university, he is not very smart. If you have ever done any academic research report at university level, you will know that any report that includes citations from Wikipedia are immediately rejected.

Wikipedia is an unreliable source of convoluted, opinionated information that is sometimes not quantifiable and therefore cannot act as an academic resource. Plus anyone can edit those pages, no matter what agenda they have or how stupid they are. This fool didn’t know that. So he started to “educate” the still fixated younger batch [who have now grown into the hellers we loathe with gusto] in the audience and on YouTube as to what slash fiction was and that is why they like him so much. While other actors speak a line about it and move onto another topic, Professor Knowitall esq. will give his rather young audience a lecture on a subject he knows nothing about, thereby conditioning them to think that slash fiction is something that it isn’t. Is he that stupid or that arrogant?

If you look through Wikipedia, it will give you the impression that slash is homosexual in nature, and that it is an expression of gay love. The fact that those stories and artwork originated with straight women and are powered by the artistic efforts of straight women, is ignored. There are topics about queer recognition and LGBT relevance on that page. The page isn’t telling you what slash fiction is. It is telling you what other groups feel about it. I can tell you, almost a century ago, slash fans were not indulging this art form for those reasons. They were doing it for their own satisfaction. If other people like it too, that’s fine and dandy, but it is not about them. And what Misha has done with this fandom, which is bleeding into other fandoms via intrusive destiel fans, is to make slash about the LGBT.

That is why gay men are now getting angry because young impressionable girls are listening to him and turning a straight/bi female art form into an inaccurate gay platform. They are using things like closetedness, gay bashings, bigotry and even AIDS as a gay “trope” or theme for their stories. Gay men fought to change the name ''Gay Cancer'' to AIDS, because it was erroneously being considered a homosexual disease, and yet years later, we have a ''fake'' inclusive generation celebrating a story like ''Twist and Shout". No wonder gay men hate teen slash girls. If you write about a subject you know nothing of, you will write it wrong. These children [because they behave like that] are writing about some very sensitive and serious topics and they are romanticizing them. What person wont get angry?

In the old days, the two people who made up a pairing, were differentiated, by using two words: Seme and Uke. While slash was a straight female art form, gay men didn’t give two hoots about these words. They didn’t read the stuff. They didn’t care. They had bara. When “woke and non-bigoted, inclusive” slash fans started speaking for gay men through their stories despite the fact that these men have a voice of their own, the guys got angry because they don’t have a seme and uke role type in their relationships. Well, of course they don’t. Slash is not about gay men. Its about straight women and their sexual expression. And in their fantasies, there are seme’s and uke’s.

That is another problem with the Wikipedia page. When you look at the history, it starts with Kirk and Spock. The dunderhead who wrote that page, didn’t know that slash started in the east, probably Japan, although Hong Kong might dispute that. When it became animated in the 1970’s, the anime version was called Yaoi. The Japanese were actually making money from slash fiction way back when, by making comic type books, essentially novels with pictures. And it was those translated stories, which were almost always set in another world, that gave birth to Kirk/Spock slash fiction. Star Trek is also set in another world so to speak. The westerners got hold of these books when the Asians immigrated. The first slash stories were actually distributed in conventions, because the internet didn't exist back then.

There is only one other person who over-indulged his slash fan base. Harry Styles. He regretted it, because it ruined his friendship. So he stopped. But he had a good excuse. He was between the ages of 15 and 19 whilst in 1 Direction. He was a baby and didn’t know any better. Harry learned his lesson within five years and stopped. Misha has been on the show for ten years. He was in his mid thirties when he started on Supernatural. He was already a grown man who has no excuse, because he is not stupid. With the amount of damage the militant destiel fans have done, you would think that he would stop. He doesn’t. Because it gives him staying power.

The one thing I have noticed is, overindulging a slash fan [not necessary a heller - any slash fan] is like feeding a Mogwai after midnight. It turns into an uncontrollable gremlin. That is exactly what Misha’s militant fanbase is: a hideous collection of gremlins that he overfed and now they are attacking any mogwai that doesn’t show gremlin traits, even if they are mild-mannered destiel fans who don't like the leads beings threatened. What Misha’s dumb section have now done, is that they have taken slash fiction itself, and turned it into an increasingly hateful and problematic concept. Because, the general public, which includes J2 [because they have nothing to do with slash fiction], now have the impression that slash is a means of bullying and putting your indulgences before other peoples’ opinions and dignity, in the name of representation.

It also give the impression, to unknowing people, that homosexuals are boisterous and demanding people and you have to please them or else. The general public don’t know that predominantly female, heterosexual, entitled princesses are writing this crap. They think that gays are pushing slash fiction because words like gay, queer and LGBT keep popping up in a pro-destiel argument. Any gay man reading this, take heed, because these children are damaging your collective reputations. And if you don’t deal with it now, the PR headache you are going to have to deal with, in the future, as a group, is going to be immense. And it won’t even be your fault, but you will be blamed for it. How do you go about doing that? Speak directly to Misha. Shut up the master Gremlin-Troll himself. Tell him he is doing you a great disservice. After all, the mostly straight heller girls are speaking for you and he is pushing the microphones into their hands.

I always liked slash because not only was it a means of female sexual expression, but it was also a means of female creativity. Sure, we all like Cinderella, but it was lukewarm for some of us because, she was difficult to emulate. And growing up, we didn’t know she was a character to enjoy, not to emulate. Children always emulate what they see on screen. She was thin, pretty, a good singer with nice hair and small feet. I am club footed, bipolar and fat, with a lion’s mane that brushes broke on. I felt sorry for her because she was abused. I felt sorry for her because she was crying at one point. Then I remembered what I look like when I cry. Soft tears don't roll gently down my pink cheeks. Snot rolls down my nose, careening to the inside of my mouth. Not pretty. Not delicate. The story was nice but it left me feeling inadequate. Some women love it. Others, like myself, are “meh” about it.

When I read a bemusing slash version with actors in place of the fictional cast, I read the whole story smirking. I didn’t begrudge the beautiful lead [I think it might have been Jensen] because I was as besotted with him as Prince Charming was [presumably Jared]. I didn’t want to be him. I wanted him. I wanted the prince too, just FYI. I could be a fly on the wall in the story, without actually picturing how my insignificant self would fit into the story. That is what slash fiction meant to me. It was an escapist art form into a fantasy 'verse, that is custom made to put a smile on my face.

Now, Prince Charming is fighting for gay rights against his bigoted father, the king, and Cinderella is beaten by his ugly step siblings because he is a homo. And I look at it and blink. I am not the audience for this story. Empathy is one thing, but replacing your sexuality with someone else’s, is something else all together. Especially since every slash story now, seems to be about gay characters and gay rights and homophobia. Slash has turned into a one trick pony. How much could you write about gay rights? Slash’s creativity is running on autopilot. Take your ship, make them gay, make one closeted and unhappy, make the other out and happy, throw in a gay oriented trope, even AIDS [no decency threshold] and boom! You've got a story.

They’ve been writing in this way for the last ten years and they’ve ruined the whole genre. So much so, that destiel and cockles stories aren’t enjoyed by anyone except destiel fans, because Misha and Cas are in those stories. And he is always written as a precious smol bean. At this juncture, I have to point out that, to be fair, other ships on Supernatural and other fandoms are doing the same thing, because destiel fans bend the will of others to their own. I heard they are actually tagging destiel into posts about other shows. Other bloggers noticed that destiel and Misha are in Mother Nature tag. They don't even leave Mother Nature alone. Why? Because Misha has turned a harmless indulgence into an addiction. He is their only dealer and pursuing canon gives them their fix. They are gremlins on crack with stunted creativity.

Of course, the children argue that they can't read an unrealistic story which is why slash characters have to instead be gay. Oh yeah, then how come in Cockles stories, Misha is something pregnant. Sometimes, he is a pregnant wolf. So you can take your “realism” and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. When you write a totes realistic story, with gay characters rather than slash characters, you are disrespecting three groups of people:

the actors, who are your, sometimes, unwilling muses

the homosexual community, that you have absolutely no right to speak for

the earlier slash fans who nurtured this art form, before you ''woke'' idiots came barreling in, with your inclusiveness, and flushed their efforts down the toilet, all at the behest on one selfish man.

Decent slashers say: This is a work of fiction and has no bearings on reality. Then they go out of their way to not include themes that are synonymous with the gay community. The characters in a properly written story are never explicitly gay. They just like some guy, even though last week they were with a girl. And no, that doesn’t make them bisexual either. Remember, slash is a platform with a large percentage of straight females and bisexuals don’t want you speaking for them, either. Otherwise, nobody will dispute the hellers for saying that Dean is bi because he wore a purple shirt, once. The fed up bisexuals reading insulting meta on how Dean is bisexual, because of his food and clothing choices, are a case in point. So the character are fantasy slash characters. If I were to coin a word, then they are slashsexual.

They are just muses for the woman’s sexual expression. We don’t need to tell them what we are doing, thereby putting them in an uncomfortable position to amend or dispute our opinion about the subject. That is plain rude and borderline sexual harassment. Even if we are women and they are men. Treat them with the same dignity that you demand for yourself. Its got nothing to do with them. Don’t ask them. Misha, on the other hand, has no shame and will therefore never turn down a question. He will answer the question in a way that his gullible fangirls like, inflating his ego and giving him permanence in the show. Has Misha caused irreparable damage? I am afraid so. Older women, in the SPN fandoms, get caught up in life so they don’t indulge in slash as much. And so the brats are running this art form to the ground, teaching nonsense to those that are younger than them, parroting whatever crap Misha spews about slash fiction, in the name of sexual equality, representation and the LGBT. I am not even counting their online behaviour, just pointing out their horrible handling of slash fiction at the behest of Misha Collins. They still listen to him and its going to get worse and worse, until slash fiction becomes THE most hateful thing about fan culture.

Please note:

The analysis of slash fiction does not include tinhatting. Tinhats do not believe that the people they are writing about are mere muses. Cockles fans and J2 Tinhats believe that they people they are writing about, really are gay, but closeted due to public shame and ostracization. Tinhats, at least the ones that I came across, do not like to be seen as shippers. They are a separate entity altogether. That would be a fascinating topic for the future. Thank you to the tinhat who reminded me of this, because I completely forgot.

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tessatechaitea · 6 years ago

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Teen Titans Spotlight #5: Jericho

Princess of Gemworld

How will he not know when he finds his fingers have been Crazy Glued to his cock?

With Jericho's powers, I don't know why he needs Garfield's fingerprints. Why not just possess Steve Dayton himself, knock him out so he can't scream for help, and just walk in to grab the promethium? Or hire his dad to get the shit! He could probably guilt Deathstork into doing loads of illegal stuff for him.

Why would Steve Dayton allow Garfield Logan access to his promethium?! Yeah, I fucking know Logan's his son. It still doesn't fucking make sense!

Jericho takes the promethium back to Arthur Lord so he can trade it to the Quraci government and save his daughter's life. But it's only after Lord leaves Addie's place with the promethium that she says to Jericho, "I think we just got scammed!"

Jericho responds, "I think you're a loser."

Sure enough, Penny and Arthur were just using Joey and his mom to get their hands on the most destructive non-Lobo thing in the DC Universe. Penny is all, "That dupe actually thought I loved him! But we didn't even fuck! I just held a tin of microwaved potato salad between my legs and let him fuck that." That's what sex feels like, right? Fucking warm potato salad? I mean, I totally know that's what it's like. I hope! I mean, I don't hope it feels like that in that I love the feeling of fucking warm potato salad! I hope that's what it feels like so people who have fucked don't think I haven't fucked because I described it poorly. We all have different experiences anyway! You can't invalidate my description of what it felt like when I totally had sex all those times! Joseph, being the biggest dupe of them all, didn't replace the promethium tablets with Sugar Mamas like I would have expected him to do. So now he and his mother have to break into Arthur Lord's secret laboratory and resteal the promethium tablets! If only they had consulted Nightwing, they could have been done with this adventure already. He would have been all, "Man, Joey, you smell like potato salad ! Did you fall for the fake lover with the potato salad between her legs trick? You better not trust her, buddy!" Oh, I was wrong! They don't break into Lord's place at all! They think their smartest move is to break into Qurac and kidnap Curt, Penny's husband! I guess they can use him as leverage. Although couldn't Joey have lifted Penny's fingerprints off of his prostate to gain access to the secret lab? If Joey had the ability to sneak into Qurac to rescue Penny without risking the entire world by giving Qurac promethium, why the fuck wasn't that the plan from the beginning?! I'm starting to sense that maybe Marv Wolfman was on Quaaludes when he wrote this script.

That would be Joey's crotch.

There's an advert for NBC's Saturday morning line-up in this issue and it just makes me wonder: if modern conservatives are so pissed off about everything in our culture that they see as emasculating the kind of man they think every guy should be, where the fuck were they in 1986 while I was watching Kissyfur, The Gummi Bears, Smurfs, Punky Brewster, Alvin and the Chipmunks, Foofur, and Kidd Video?! The most manly cartoon in that list is Alvin and the Chipmunks and they wore dresses! Stop doing the math and trying to point out that I was fourteen or fifteen in 1986! Gummi Bears had one of the best cartoon theme songs (right after Ducktales)! I'm going to go listen to it right now! Joey and Adeline take Curt to Tokyo where they finally begin interrogating him. Even though he spent multiple days being tortured by the Quraci government, he wouldn't tell them a thing. He spends two minutes alone with Adeline and Joseph and he begins spilling the beans. The only threat they used was that Joey was going to put himself inside hi...oh. I see what he's afraid of! Dude, it's nothing to be frightened of! Just relax, man! Joseph's a sensitive poet. He'll definitely provide a reach-around. Joseph infiltrates Lord's secret base and discovers he's resurrecting H.I.V.E. (which stands for Hierarchy of International Vengeance and Extermination which is fucking stupid. Just spitballing for a few seconds and I already came up with a better one: Higher Institute of Violent Extremism!). Joseph's movements are described as catlike which is why he's noticed freaking the fuck out, bouncing off walls, and yowling at the top of his voice. Arthur Lord, leader of an organization full of soldiers who are only in the organization because they killed a bunch of other master fighters, decides to fight Joseph himself. His mighty warriors (the best of the best!) just stand around in robes watching.

What good is your invaluable edge if you're not going to use it?! Kill the little creep, you idiot!

Arthur Lord tackles Joseph straight through a wall where they both disappear from view. Then he emerges and he's all, "He's dead! And since Joseph can't control the host's talking, I must be myself and telling the truth! Ha ha ha!" But I know better! Remember how I already saw there's another issue in this stupid story arc? Joseph is totally still alive! And probably possessing Arthur! And probably able to speak because Arthur was knocked unconscious! Pshaw! Marv Wolfman, you need better twists! Arthur and H.I.V.E. take off from their secret base to go take over the world. And they won't need the base anymore for some reason, so they just blow up the island on the way out. Ugh, he's the worst kind of tenant. Teen Titans Spotlight #5: Jericho Rating: B-. So much betrayal! So many twists and turns! Not much fucking though. Which makes it a mediocre Teen Titans story. And yes, the B- factors in the fact that this whole conflict is, once again, somehow driven by family.

#Teen Titans Spotlight #Jericho #Teen Titans #DC Comics #DC

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hippychick006 · 6 years ago

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5.03 - Free to be you and me

Or the one where Sam and Dean don’t share any screen time or even talk at all. Having said that, there’s some good scenes that switch between the brothers to show what each of them are doing. I also like the juxtaposition of how awkwardly Dean and Castiel work together in this episode, with how seamless Dean and Sam worked together in the previous episode. Jared has some great scenes with Adrianne Palicki, Mark Pellegrino and some guest actors that did a great job with playing hunters. Dean’s primarily with Castiel, though I did like the Raphael scene the first time I watched.

It’s an important episode in terms of the myth arc and Sam finding out he’s Lucifer’s vessel, but on re-watch, I’d fast forward through many of the scenes now.

The episode opens on Sam sleeping (or trying to) in a motel room. I’m issuing a shirtless!Sam alert for this one. He rolls over and sees Jess is beside him. This scene is so sweet. I love when they manage to bring Jess back in interesting ways. We see that Sam loved her very much. Sam says he misses her so much. She asks him what he’s doing running away. He says it’s different this time, “Last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I’m a freak.”

Jess: Even at Stanford you knew. You knew there was something dark inside of you. Deep down, maybe, but you knew. Maybe that's what got me killed.

Sam denies it, but Jess says: “I was dead from the moment we said hello.” Jess tells him she’s trying to protect him from himself, he can’t run, the past will always catch up with him and the people closest to him will die. Sam says he won’t make that mistake again. Jess says things won’t ever change with Sam. Sam looks down and when he looks back up, Jess is gone.

After the title screen, we get taken back to one week earlier. I like the scenes we get that switch between what Sam and Dean are doing. Sam’s dropped off (in a different car than we saw him hitching away in last week). He’s arriving at the motel we saw him with Jess in the opener, which is in Garber, Oklahoma. When he opens the trunk to get his belongings, we switch to Dean, closing baby’s trunk and it’s clear from the way he’s suited and booted (not to mention the weapon he places under his coat), that Dean’s on a hunt alone. Fyi, Dean’s in Greely, Pennsylvania, which google maps tells me is about a 21 hour ish, drive from where Sam is.

Sam gets a job at a bar and Dean’s killing vampires with one liners: “Eat it, twilight.” Sam wipes his brow while he’s chopping lemons, Dean wipes his blood covered face after chopping the head off a vampire. Sam’s cleaning the bar, Dean’s cleaning baby.

We get the same effect as the last episode in that the soundtrack song – Lynyrd Skynyrd Simple Man – changes to be heard coming from the radio as Dean is driving. He looks over to the empty passenger’s seat as he drives.

We next see Dean in a motel room and this scene is one of the ones Hellers always pull out when everyone else says they don’t see Destiel. Castiel appears suddenly behind Dean. Dean jumps and thumps the sink. He’s clearly annoyed and glares, “Don’t do that!” He turns around and Castiel is standing far too close. Dean can’t look at Castiel, not because of attraction, but because he’s angry at having to tell Castiel the same thing over and over and it’s awkward that he’s too close: Dean: Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space? Castiel does move back, but he again comes into Dean’s space during the scene. I’m at a loss for how anyone sees these scenes as “romantic”. There’s clearly a power imbalance and it’s uncomfortable to watch Castiel continually disrespecting Dean’s wishes.

Long scene short, Castiel needs Dean’s help to trap and interrogate the angel that killed him (Raphael), to get God’s location.

Dean: You're serious about this… So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?

Dean asks why he should do this and receives the answer that no angel will dare harm him. Dean: “Oh, so I'm your bullet shield.” Castiel says Dean’s the only one who will help him. He even adds a please. Dean agrees, Castiel reaches up to zap Dean’s forehead, which Dean vetoes because “last time you zapped me someplace I didn’t poop for a week...we’re driving.”

Back to Sam – or Keith, since he’s using a different name – Lindsey the bartender flirts with him, asking if he plays darts. Sam says it depends what they are playing for. Lindsey says when she wins, Sam can buy her dinner and tell her his life story. Sam agrees. He steps up and I think he scores 100, but then gets distracted by the news, which is freak hail, lightning strikes and fire, all affecting a single local town. The older bartender (not Lindsey), turns the TV off and says: Damn. Is it me or does it seem like it's the end of the world?

Dean and Castiel have arrived in Maine. Dean asks why they’re here (not sure why he didn’t do that on the drive). Castiel wants to speak to a deputy sheriff that saw the archangel and his plan consists of: “We'll tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is.”

Unsurprisingly, Dean does not agree with that plan. He puts a fake ID in Castiel’s coat, then adjusts his tie to be properly done up (like you would do with a child), and tells him that when humans want something, they lie. Long story short, this is the scene where Cass holds his ID badge upside down and Dean says, “He's, uh, he's new.” This scene would be funnier if we’d got an explanation for when Castiel had a picture taken to get a fake ID done, otherwise the scene just doesn’t make sense as it stands.

They interview the deputy who witnessed the incident (which was a riot that turned into an explosion at a gas station). Castiel “helpfully” interjects on occasion with things like “It's angels and demons, probably… they're skirmishing all over the globe.”

Sheriff (to Castiel): Come again? (to Dean) What did he say?

I think what’s funny about this is that Castiel is sitting nearest the ear the sheriff can’t hear with (as it got damaged in the explosion), so there’s an element of, “am I really hearing this right?” at play here.

Dean and Castiel speak at the same time and it’s certainly not winsync. Dean: nothing, Castiel: demons. They repeat this. Then Dean covers with: Demons, you know, drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt.

Once they get past the awkwardness, they learn that one guy survived the explosion, not a scratch on him.

Dean: Let me guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air?

Sheriff: Uh, no, Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's.

I had to look up Kolchak reference. This is from wiki: Kolchak: The Night Stalker is an American television series that aired on ABC during the 1974–1975 season. It featured a fictional Chicago wire service reporter—Carl Kolchak, played by Darren McGavin—who investigated mysterious crimes with unlikely causes, particularly those that law enforcement authorities would not follow up. These often involved the supernatural or science fiction, including fantastic creatures.

Wasn’t this what Kripke originally wanted to go with, a reporter investigating urban legends? Glad he went with the brothers.

Castiel helpfully repeats “Saint Pete's.” to Dean and not for the first time this episode, Dean really wishes his brother were here.

Down at the Saint Pete’s hospital, the survivor – local mechanic Donnie – is catatonic. Raphael has left his vessel in a terrible state. Dean: So, is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?

Castiel: No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you.

Oh great, that’s just…

Sam’s researching revelations (in latin), presumably because of the issues happening in the local town. He picks up his phone and scrolls past everyone to get to Dean. His brother isn’t on speed dial?! He has a lot of names, a couple I think we met. Interesting that Brady isn’t among them. He ignores my shouting, “Just call your brother, you idiot” and scrolls back up to Bobby’s number.

He tells Bobby about the omens he’s found. 'And upon his rising there shall be hail and fire mixed with blood.' He says they’ve already got the first two, so blood can’t be far behind. Bobby asks why Sam’s calling. Sam questions that Dean didn’t tell him (about Sam not hunting).

Bobby: He told me.

Sam: Yeah. So, I just thought you might want to find out who's in the area and put a man on this.

Bobby: Okay, let me see if I can think of the best hunter who might be in the immediate vicinity—oh, that'd be you.

Sam says he can’t and that he’s got to go. Bobby protests, but Sam hangs up the phone. Bobby looks sad.

Dean’s in an abandoned house, looking through his dad’s journal. Castiel flaps in and Dean asks where he’s been – presumably Castiel just did his usual and disappeared without explanation. Castiel responds: Jerusalem.

Dean (sarcastically): Oh, how was it?

Castiel (perfectly seriously): Arid.

I miss this Castiel that didn’t understand humour and took everything literally.

Castiel sets a jug on the table and Dean asks what it is. Castiel responds that it’s oil, very special and rare. Dean makes a joke about trapping Raphael with a nice vinaigrette. Then asks more seriously “Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?” Castiel says it’s harder. Dean asks if there’s a chance of surviving this. Castiel says Dean does (have a chance), implication is, Castiel doesn’t. Dean: So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow.

Castiel confirms this and Dean seems completely unperturbed (I miss these days), He asks Castiel what his plans are for his last night on earth.

Castiel: I just thought I'd sit here quietly

Dean disagrees and suggests booze and women. He quickly discovers through Castiel’s awkwardness that the angel hasn’t ever done the deed (why would he, he’s not human?). Dean: There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go. (no hellers, he’s not offering his own services, he’s taking him out to get laid with hookers).

Back at the bar, Sam sees hunters he knows walk in and turns his back, walking away to try not to be recognised. No luck, the hunter calls after him and blows his alias by calling him Sam. Lindsey calls him on it and Sam says it’s his middle name, which she laughs at. Lindsey asks if the guys are his friends. One (Steve) answers: Hunting buddies. With his dad. Samuel here is quite the hunter himself.

Lindsey: Wow. You killed deer and things?

Tim: Yeah… and things.

Awkward! Sam gets them drinks and Tim apologises for busting him. I like seeing hunters from around their dad’s time, but sadly these guys will turn out to be assholes. They tell him about the demons and that Bobby told them Sam was off limits. Sam confirms it, but Tim says they really could use all hands. Sam say’s he’s sorry. Tim tries again, but Sam’s not having any of it. They leave for the hunt, telling Sam he’s buying them beers when they get back.

Lindsey: So, your parents were drunk when they named you and you shoot Bambi?

Sam says it’s a long story, but Lindsey’s had enough, she’s buying dinner and they are going to talk. Sam says he can’t, but Lindsey is insistent. Got to say, I’m not respecting the boundaries with either Castiel or Lindsey in this episode or actually Dean in terms of Cass getting drunk and having sex.

I absolutely have to say kudos to Misha for this next scene though. He looks absolutely terrified as he looks around the scantily clad women: “This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here!”

Dean: Dude, you full-on rebelled against heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.

A hooker approaches and asks Castiel’s name. He doesn’t answer so Dean has to answer for him, which makes Castiel jump. Dean asks her name in turn, which turns out to be Chastity. Castiel downs half his beer then Chastity tugs Castiel up and leads him away. Dean stops him, giving Castiel money saying: “If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, okay? Do not order off the menu. Go get her, tiger.” Castiel doesn’t move. Dean: “Don’t make me push you.”

I’m can’t help wondering if this is something Dean also did with a young Sam.

Another hooker walks by and Dean turns to follow her. He’s having a drink with her at the bar when they hear a scream. He goes to investigate, Castiel is standing in the hallway, more disheveled than normal. Chastity is pissed and shouts at Castiel and then also at Dean as she angrily stomps off, still grumbling.

Dean: The hell did you do?

Castiel: I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office.

Dean rolls his eyes: Oh no man… This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.

They have to exit quickly, and Dean laughs when they get back outside. Castiel asks what’s so funny. Dean: Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.

Back with Sam and it looks like Lindsey has finally worn Sam down as they are eating dinner. Lindsey’s still trying to get Sam’s story and asks again about the guys from earlier. Sam says they used to be in the same business together. When Lindsey presses for details, Sam tries to change the subject.

Lindsey: Witness protection, right? You're Mafia?

Sam (laughs): I'm not Mafia.

He sees Lindsey is switching off and relents a little as he tells her “I used to be in business with my brother. Truth is I was pretty good at the job. But...I made some mistakes, I did some stuff I'm not so proud of, and people got hurt. A lot of people.”

Me having just re-watched the entirety of the last few seasons. I’m going to need to see a list of the people that got hurt because of what Sam did. Stat!

Lindsey asks what Sam was hooked on, because she knows the look. Sam looks uncomfortable, I’m thinking drinking demon blood isn’t something he can easily fess up to at addiction anonymous groups. Lindsey pulls out a medallion and says she’s three years sober. Sam: “You work in a bar.”

Lindsey: So do you. Look, Keith. I don't know you and I'm the last person to be giving advice, but I do know that no one has ever done anything so bad that they can't be forgiven. That they can't change.

Castiel and Dean are at the hospital. Castiel is pouring the oil in a circle around Raphael’s vessel explaining that no angel can touch or pass through the flames (or they die). Dean asks how they’ll get Raphael there. Castiel says there’s something like a phone line between a vessel and his angel. You just have to know how to dial. He leans down to Donnie’s ear and chants in Enochian.

Dean: Just out of curiosity, what is the average customer wait time to speak to an archangel?

Castiel: Be ready. He lights a match and drops it on the oil, which bursts into a ring of flame.

Much later (that it’s turned from day to night. Dean and Castiel are driving back to the abandoned house. Dean: “Well that's a day I'll never get back.”

He enters the house and Castiel grabs him and tells him to wait. There’s bright white light and Raphael is there in Donnie’s body, impressive lightning display of his wings. Dean isn’t so impressed, he says all Raphael’s done is shot the lights in the room. Raphael responds: And the Eastern Seaboard. He threatens to take Dean to Michael. Dean says he’s going nowhere with Raphael. Raphael reminds him of the stomach cancer Zachariah gave him. Dean said it was hilarious.

Raphael: Well, he doesn't have anything close to my imagination.

Raphael’s arrogance is his undoing though as Dean says they knew he was coming. Castiel lights a zippo and and drops it. Raphael is now standing within a circle of fire and glares at Dean. Raphael glares at Dean who responds. “Don't look at me, it was his idea!”

Castiel asks Raphael where God is, Raphael says he’s dead.

Back at the bar and Sam’s cleaning up. Tim’s back and asks Sam if he’s got something to tell him. Sam says no and asks where the other two are. Tim answers that Steve’s dead and that the demons told them things about Sam. Sam refuses to talk but Reggie arrives and he’s holding Lindsey hostage with a knife.

Raphael and Castiel continue to have daddy abandonment issues. Though it’s nice as part of this discussion that Dean puts the blame for the apocalypse where it belongs:

Raphael: Careful. That's my Father you're talking about, boy.

Dean: Yeah, who would be so proud to know his sons started the frigging apocalypse.

Back at the bar, Sam falsely confesses to starting the apocalypse.

Me @Sam, you’re doing great sweetie. If only the others involved would take some responsibility for their own actions. Thankfully, before I can really get started on this topic, we quickly go back to Dean, Castiel asks Raphael that if God’s dead, then who brought him back. Raphael suggests Lucifer because he needs all the rebellious angels he can find. Castiel realises Raphael truly believes God is dead so doesn’t know anything. He goes to leave. Raphael warns him about just leaving him here, that he will find him.

Castiel: Maybe one day. But today, you're my little bitch.

Dean: What he said.

Best part of the episode is back with Sam as this is a great scene. Tim has a tube of demon blood and wants Sam to take it so he can go with them and kill the demons. Sam refuses but Tim says they’ll kill Lindsey if he doesn’t. Reggie has handcuffed Lindsey to the bar and advances on Sam. Reggie charges Sam who impressively tosses him onto a pool table and starts punching him, but Tim takes Sam down and together with Reggie, force the demon blood into Sam’s mouth. They force his mouth closed until he swallows. They retreat and Sam gets up, he spits the blood in Tim’s eye who can’t see to fight back now. Sam gets the upper hand and the kick he gives Reggie is worth watching the episode for. Sam hauls Tim up and looks as though he’s going to kill him with Reggie’s knife, but sees Lindsey watching and she’s terrified. He stops and tells them both to leave. They say they’ll be back, but I’m pretty sure we never see or hear from them again.

Dean gives Castiel a pep talk about missing fathers. “I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?” Castiel believes God is alive and Dean says then go find him. Castiel asks how Dean is. Dean says he’s good.

Castiel: Even without your brother?

Dean: Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy.

Thankfully, when Dean glances to the passenger seat and it’s empty, we see from his face that all of that was just Dean’s usual bullshit where he puts his game face on to try to convince others of what he’s saying.

Back at the motel room, Sam is sleeping (in a t-shirt this time – wth Sam? Pick a sleeping attire and stick to it!). He hears Jess call his name and he wakes abruptly. Jess is back and Sam kisses her. He tells her he loves her then sits up and faces away from her on the bed. He tells her he misses her but she’s wrong about him. “People can change. There is reason for hope.” Jess tells him there isn’t and then morphs into Lucifer (Sam doesn’t see this). Sam asks how Jess can be so sure

Lucifer: Because you freed me.

Sam gets up and moves away.

Lucifer: You are a hard one to find, Sam. Harder than most humans. I don't suppose you'd tell me where you are?

That would be a nope as Sam asks what Lucifer wants. Lucifer wants to give Sam a gift for freeing him. Sam wants nothing from him. Lucifer tells Sam he’s sorry, but that Nick is just a Plan B. He can barely contain him. Sam asks what Lucifer is talking about. Lucifer: Why do you think you were in that chapel? You're the one, Sam. You're my vessel. My true vessel.

Sam looks horrified: “No. That'll never happen.”

Lucifer: I'm sorry, but it will. I will find you. And when I do, you will let me in. I'm sure of it.

Sam realises Lucifer needs his consent, which Lucifer confirms. Sam: I will kill myself before letting you in.

Lucifer: I'll just bring you back. He sighs and continues: Sam. My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you've done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. If there was some other way...but there isn't. I will never lie to you. I will never trick you. But you will say yes to me.

Sam says he’s wrong, but Lucifer says he knows Sam better than Sam knows himself. Sam asks why him.

Good question, Sam, let’s listen carefully to the answer:

Lucifer: Because it had to be you, Sam. It always had to be you.

Hold up there sparky, “it always had to be you” Sam, until the writers wanted to bring Lucifer back and decided that anyone can be Lucifer’s vessel, including another angel, so your entire storyline this season is now a complete waste of time, which can be added on to last season being a waste of time since all that was required to free Lucifer is a witch and a spell. Having said that, scenes like this one over the years are why they keep bringing him back. It’s a very good scene between Jared and Mark.

Poor Sammy, the hits just keep coming for him. Up next, the End, or the one where Jensen works his ass off, doing double time and Jared comes in and steals the episode. (paraphrasing Jensen’s words).

#supernatural #season 5 #rewatch #5.03 #free to be you and me #episode recap

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michelletheemann-blog · 6 years ago

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The Irony

There is no space more aptly named than the sanctuary in a black church. It is a meeting space, a room of creation and inspiration, a refuge from a country that often refuses to acknowledge your humanity.

At my church, our pastor can sing very, very well, and he can conjure the holy spirit at the drop of a hat in that truly Southern Baptist way. As a kid, I loved to look at the photo of Jesus—loose black curls, milk chocolate skin, and a short wooly beard—hanging crooked in the stairwell. My best friend from youth choir’s granny always sat in the same seat crowned with a new hat. With fondness, I used to look around at the giants, black kings and queens, clothed in their finest royal Sunday garb and always with a smile and hug to give to Tony and Colette’s baby girl. After service, I would lollygag between the pews, poorly helping my dad, the head usher, pick up any forgotten bulletins and whine about going to McDonald’s when I knew good and well I ain’t have no McDonald’s money. On special Sunday’s the smell of fried chicken and greens would waft up from the basement into the sanctuary, flirting with my nose, and when my friends and I would rush down the stairs to be the first in line we were chastised by Mrs. Somebody for running only to have an Auntie save us with a definitive, “let the babies eat, girl.”

This is a village that raises many a child, myself included, and reminds us children that it is our duty to honor those that have come before and work hard to make things better in the future. I grew up in love with everything church and it has always been my home and foundation, my sanctuary. So, one day in college when I finally stopped pushing down those dark, omnipresent feelings and said “I’m gay” out loud I knew I was going to have a few problems.

Twenty or so years ago my parents carefully chose a church, a village, to balance the experiences that my younger sister and I would have in the suburban life they hesitantly birthed us into. Yes, they wanted us to know God for ourselves and for us to have a strong sense of religion but they also wanted to make sure their kids would have a taste of the blackness they were raised on. They knew that our upper-middle-class, white education wouldn’t teach us about Henrietta Lacks or Madam CJ Walker and the name Fannie Lou Hamer wasn’t going to make it into our lessons about black history. Instead, my understanding of blackness and black excellence came from the Vacation Bible School talks, Sunday School Black History Month celebrations, and the pulpit. I was to have examples of all sorts of black people in my church and role models for me to look up to, a village to raise me. Though in the suburbs schools may have been better and the crime rates low, my parents made sure I knew that these white people were never supposed to be my everything because them white folks is crazy and my church, my people, are my real foundation in this world.

But herein lies the problem. “The fact that this particular child had been born when and where he was born had dictated certain expectations” (“Introduction”, xvi). For most of my life, these invisible expectations felt like simple—unachievable—goals and the drive to meet them was fueled by an incessant desire for perfection and affirmation. Follow your parents’ footsteps. Be successful. Achieve even more than your parents and your grandparents, they have worked so hard. Help your people prosper. You’re going to make us all so proud. As a girl, I remember that one lady who always dressed a little different, the woman with the short-cut who was whispered about at book clubs and post-church brunches. She was raised here too and she very quickly hauled ass out of the church, occasionally slipping into the back row on holidays. Yes, there was an expectation for her, an expectation for people like that, which I did not know how to articulate, but I knew that she was doing something wrong. “The child does not really know what these expectations are—does not know how real they are—until he begins to fail, challenge, or defeat them” (“Introduction”, xvi). I had a sense of these expectations and still one day I came home and broke my mother’s heart. Apparently, I had been keeping up my farce a little too well, both for hers and my own sake. “Since when??? How can you want this for yourself???” she pleaded. I am sorry, Mom, but when you imported boys from church for me to take to homecoming dances (the black boys at white schools “don’t go for black girls”, but that is another essay) I was looking over their shoulders at Grace, the only openly black lesbian at my school who, paradoxically, wanted nothing to do with me.

Anyway, there is indeed a difference for when black people are gay than for white people. It is not that black people are more homophobic nor do I believe that the black struggle can be compared to the white, queer struggle. The difference is that when a young black person is gay there is something more at stake: the possibility of losing the only community that accepts you. As a black geek articulated, “Blackness can be a rigid, didactic identity, with people stepping out of line facing ridicule and admonishment or, worse, condemnation. Those who reject the perceived identity of Blackness can be seen as rejecting the whole of black worth itself” (Johnson, 15).

Personally, I gained my entire sense of self, associated all my blackness with an organization that had very specific rules for what it meant to be black. The politics of respectability once disguised as a coat of armor and nobility now choked me like a straitjacket, locked into an idea of who I was supposed to be one day: a successful career woman, a role model in my church just as my parents had been, and, most importantly, a wife to a strong black man. I have always been gay but it is only recently that I have begun to accept and love myself for being gay, for changing a small yet fundamental part of that vision. Still, for a long while, I thought that I had betrayed my people and felt the need to hide that which would make me a stranger in my own village. I would return to the sanctuary and look upon the kings and queens with fear and sadness as “…they move[d] with an authority which I shall never have” (“Stranger”, 83). Instead, I would avoid going to church, stay at school for breaks, drop my girlfriend’s hand every time anyone who knew my family walked by. When I did go to church I felt like everyone could see all the lies pulsing just beneath my skin. My sanctuary became a jungle in which I did not know where to hide and where the possibility of being eaten alive felt invisibly imminent.

Then one day I met Audre Lorde. And Bayard Rustin. I learned that there is quite a bit more to Angela Davis’ story than just having a sick afro. Suddenly I had a new village and I had a reason to hope. After a lot of self-reflection, a very simple yet revolutionary idea crossed my mind. I realized, really considered for the first time, that I could be just as gay as I am black. I learned that the person whose love is most important in my life is that which I have for myself. “Coming out to yourself and to others, and then staying out as you walk out the door brings strength in its action,” and, yes, I could feel my strength beginning to build (Johnson, 17). At times the old thinking that lurks on the fringes of my memory, that which is embedded in my reflexes, begins to creep up and make me doubt myself and my wholeness once again, but now more than ever I refuse to let it control or define me. One day far from now my soul will look back and wonder how I got over.

Works Cited Baldwin, James. "Introduction: The Price of the Ticket." The Price of the Ticket: Collected Non Fiction. New York:St. Martin's/Marek, 1985. Print.

Baldwin, James. "Stranger in the Village" The Price of the Ticket: Collected Non-Fiction. New York: St. Martin's/Marek, 1985. Print.

Walker, Rebecca and Mat Johnson, “The Geek” Black Cool: One Thousand Streams of Blackness. Berkeley, Soft Skull Press, 2012. Print.

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manifestoonmoralmanlove · 6 years ago

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Gormless Ch. 4 - Dab on them Pineapples

A well-meaning friend gave me a book series that is hilariously bad. The first book was Souless and my riffs were entitled brainless. This second book is entitled Changless and these riff are then gormless.

I mean to say I have entitled them gormless! Not that my riffs are dumb, and the effort I spend on them stupid since I’m the only one who enjoys them. HAHA!

The story is SUPPOSED TO be about how a badass lady wearing a rad-looking carriage dress hits baddies with her umbrella and bangs her hot werewolf husband. In reality it’s mostly poor attempts at being witty, flirty, and superior.

For the last book check out the brainless tag.

If you want the TL;DR version but want to read these new riffs anyway?

This story is set in supernatural Victorian steampunk England. Alexia is our NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS protag. She is a soulless, which means she’s able to negate the abilities of vampires and werewolves by touching them. She’s recently married a big oaf, named Lord Connel Maccon. He’s the manchild in charge of the supernatural police with a zillion dollars and he’s totes super hot too ok. Their relationship is mostly arguments about how Maccon can’t tell her fucking anything. Alexia has also recently become head of ~Soulless affairs~ in Queen Victoria’s government. She has a dumb friend named Ivy, a gay vampire friend named Akeldama, a family who’s evil because they do the same shit as her but while being blonde, and most importantly Alexia is better than everyone cause…cause.

Last time on Gormless:

There’s some mysterious force that’s turning the Vampires and werewolves into humans. Alexia is in charge of figuring out that deal, and she is doing a bad job at it. Her husband is in charge of the Supernatrual Police (BUR) so he’s going to Scotland about it.

There’s a dude named Channing who wants to punch and have sex with Alexia, and Ivy is getting married to some rich slub, even though she’s in wub with Maccon’s servant Tunstell.

Alexia’s hubby told her to go to a hat store for mysterious plot reasons, she brings her dopey friend Ivy. The hat store is run by a hot lesbian and as they’re chatting BOOM an explosion! GOLLY WHAT’S NEXT!?

Chapter 4 - Dab on them Pineapples

This chapter starts off totally under described. Basically the explosion shook the hats on their nice dangling hooks, and turned out the lights. They don’t even describe it as unbalancing Alexia. So the whole next bit makes so little sense. She first reacts by feeling around for Ivy. She finds Ivy has fainted…cause okay? Ivy is whispering about Tunstell though so she’s like, “YEAH MY FRIEND UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR AFTER AN EXPLOSION IS FINE! BYE LOSER!”

She immediately starts scurrying around for that secret passage she thought she saw earlier. Finds it, goes in, and down an elevator. I just…I was so flummoxed that this was her first response? All it would take for this to make more sense is to write, “It sounded as if the explosion happened below them, and Alexia would bet you 100 pounds that this secret passage would lead her straight to it. And what if someone was hurt down there?”

It seemed so bizarre for her to go, “EXPLOSION? I’M GOING TO MAKE A BEELINE FOR THE SECRET PASSAGE! MY FRIEND OUT COLD? WHATEVER!”

When she gets down there she finds a messy workshop, where a small explosion clearly took place. She finds LeFoux yelling at a child and there’s a ghost lady just chilling there. The gist of the conversation is that the child threw a rag soaked in ETHER into a huge furnace which caused the explosion. The boy is just like, “lol it went bang.” And Alexia thinks that’s hilarious and reintroduces herself. LeFoux has to remark that WOW ISN’T LADY MACCON SMART FOR FINDING OUT THE SECRET PASSAGEWAY? GOSH I KNOW I CONFIRMED IT TO HER MINUTES AGO! BUT SHE’S SO SMART! The ghost is LeFoux’s aunt Beatrice, and the boy is introduced as LeFoux’s son Quesnel even though the two do not look related.

I also find it odd that LeFoux, the owner of this establishment, with a shop full of customers, just slips into the passage and doesn’t give a token, “DO NOT PANIC CUSTOMERS I’M GOING TO FIGURE OUT THE ISSUE, PLEASE STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

Alexia praises the child for the explosion. I can’t help but feel a bit exasperated by the book’s tone for this. This child could have not only killed himself on a flight of fancy but perhaps a block worth of buildings full of humans in a crowded city, and the story treats it like he stole a pudding out of the fridge he wasn’t supposed to have. But I mean, my job is to worry for the well-being of children and I have a habit of overthinking this shit so take that paragraph with as much or as little care as you see fit.

LeFoux punishes Quesnel and tells her aunt to take him away so she can have sexual tension with Alexia. Alexia, you do not deserve the sexual attention of anybody except your dipshit husband. Leave the MacDougalls and LeFouxs for the more-deserving slutty, bisexual hate-readers okay.

Faps you realize you will never be able to have sex with a fictional character right?

Faps why would you want to bang a fictional character in a story you don’t even like?

I HAVE TO FIND SOMETHING TO ENJOY HERE OKAY!?

During some mild flirtation where Alexia first realizes women are hot, LeFoux explains that Maccon commissioned a gift that is ready for her.

It’s a huge ugly umbrella that takes a page to describe just its physical appearance, which was hard to follow. My favorite detail is,

“The handle looked like something that might top an ancient Egyptian column, carved with lotus flowers---or a very enthusiastic pineapple.”

I don’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean but with that line I have decided that the handle of her umbrella looks like this:

(Picture of a pineapple dabbing, while wearing bright red shoes.)

And you cannot convince me otherwise.

We spend a few more pages explaining what her James Bond styled umbrella can do. Which includes:

Shoots poison darts.

Can switch between a silver and wooden tip depending on if you’re stabbing vampires or werewolves.

Can emit a magnetic field which can disrupt steam engines temporarily.

Can spray different kinds of toxic mists which can kill humans, and severely injure werewolves and vampires.

Okay sure, she gets a proper weapon with a lot of weird uses. Sure good!

So now it’s time for me to complain about some writing choices!

Much to my annoyance, every time LeFoux smiles at all (which is a fucking lot) instead of using multiple verbs and descriptors such as, “She smiles, grins, smirks, beams, looks amused/smug/delighted/etc.” She says LeFoux ~dimples~ 100% of the time. And I’m like nobody verbs dimples that way you fucking weirdo who writes like they’re 12.

There’s also this really clumsy pointless exchange where it’s revealed that LeFoux has made special equipment for Prof. Lyall, and she remarks that he’s a curious man. Alexia says he’s not a man at all (cause he’s a werewolf) and LeFoux remarks, “I, too, am not a man. I simply enjoy dressing like one.”

….This is like super clumsy and not how humans talk at all. And there’s no reason why you need to bring that up AGAIN at all? We can tell she enjoys masculine dress because…she’s described as dressing masculine. Like….why?

Like I know this isn’t meant to be a complex novel, but like I feel condescended to how often unimportant shit needs to be brought up again and again. UGH!

So they head back upstairs, Tunstell shows up so he and Ivy can stare longingly at each other, and OH YEAH tell Alexia Lyall wants to speak with her.

You gotta do more for me to ship Tunstell/Ivy then like show them cozy with one another and shouting in my ear about how they pine for one another. Like maybe some dialog besides, “How are you?” “Oh I’m fine”?

So Alexia goes to see Lyall. She struts in swinging her new umbrella like HEY! HEY! ASK ABOUT MY NEW TOY! Lyall does not. Lyall has his issues don’t get me wrong. But I find it so refreshing that he refuses to feed Maccon and Alexia’s shitty little egos.

Lyall says the humanization phenomenon has been ~spotted~ again and it’s moving toward Scotland, a bit ahead of Maccon, who is also heading that way. Maccon doesn’t know he’ll be meeting the mysterious soul-sucking power soon, which could be a problem since he’s only useful in the sense that he has powers.

Alexia takes note of this, and decides she wants to have Lord Akeldama and LeFoux meet cause that would be cool I guess. That’s where we leave off. I’m not sure if the two are going to get along immediately upon meeting or hate each other’s guts. I hope they hate the other’s guts cause I think that would be more entertaining.

Say something nice Faps:

These chapters don’t always end and start on similar notes. So it doesn’t feel repetitive.

Lyall, while not totally free from this writing’s bullshit, helps ground this material by being a voice of sanity. A lot of authors can get caught up in HOW FUCKING COOL THEIR PERFECT FUN CHARACTERS ARE and it’s just kinda refreshing that this author has enough self-awareness to realize how exhausting and irritating their antics/personalities can sometimes be. Or in the very least enough awareness of writing to know when to slow it done and take a breather.

LeFoux is hot.

Since I have identified her new murder parasol as having a dabbing pineapple handle, all mentions of it conjure hilarious mental images for me. She was described as cradling it like a baby, and swinging it wildly in order for it to fail to catch Lyall’s attention.

I also kinda like how despite getting a badass weapon crafted for her, it’s hideous. Like perhaps it’s for the humor sake, but I appreciate we’re not just going to steamroll how cool and great Alexia is. Even though she got this super rad weapon with all these functions without having to earn it. The item does have the downside of being tacky and heavy. You know?

#gormless #changeless #riffing

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