#probably just ‘here are some references to friends’

[rapunzellovesbooks]

So, okay, deep breath.

It is quite funny how it all works. I wake up, maybe a bit excited to see if the rumours of Nicola and Luke in Galway are true. Who knows, right? But what I see is a lovely new article that no one has seen before, with lovely quotes from our two idiots in love, and Luke basically saying „yeah, we are friends to lovers“. I squeal in delight, see lovely fan edits with the new quotes, all is good. I have no clue how these articles suddenly pop up, but someone must be behind it.

And then… I go in here and everyone is in histerics again over a picture with no context, most likely taken from someone‘s private account, with no actual reference to the date it was taken. Folks are fighting over whether it is last year or this year. If it was last year, wow, must be pretty serious no? Well, no, going to one meal to someone‘s house does not equate a serious relationship. If it is from this year, oh boy no? Well, no, cause you do not know if it is from this year and you can analyse curtains, hair, the dust on the furniture… you cannot tell cause you are not Luke nor his family. In any case, someone creating a blog simply to share that picture… making the effort to go stalk folks, even going back in time most probably to get a picture that tells you nothing… is just awful.

Of course I am biased. I want Luke and Nic together. But I do not base my narrative on cropped pics or photos taken without consent and context. Like, the quotes from the new article are them, unfiltered. That should be the focus.

I just refuse to sit here and see people spiral over a photo again when there is no information on when it was taken, by whom and why. It is ridiculous. And moreover, I cant believe I have to say it again, stop stalking family and friends. Luke and Nicola are very aware of the price of fame, their relatives should not.

Also… we get lovely rumours and a new article where they look amazing together.. and shortly after someone decides to drop that… makes you think. Why are some people so hell bent on proving us wrong? We ain‘t going anywhere, we have been here through worse. Stop being nasty, stalking and sharing stuff that should not be shared simply to rile people up. Most of us aren‘t hurting anybody.

[forgottxen]

love letters

how girly reader x frat boy chris met - mentions of  beer/weed, slightly suggestive if you squint- reader referred to as 'Bunni' | proofread by me 😈

more of them here

౨ৎ wc: 970

_

9 years ago

-

There she stood in the crowded hallway as students laughed and pointed at her, her face flushed. They had found out, and the entire school knew about the note. Pouring her heart out, she confessed her love for her childhood best friend on a note. Even at twelve, she felt certain of her feelings. In her head, he would say he liked her back and they would be boyfriend and girlfriend, hold hands in the hallway, and sit together at lunch. Instead, he had humiliated her in front of the entire school, taking the note out of his locker and laughing at her confession with his friends. How could he? She had trusted him so much enough to spill her feelings onto paper for him. Her cheeks heated as she let the hot tears spill down her soft skin, her legs shaking as she gained the courage to run out of the school’s front doors.

-

Present

Bunni avoided parties, especially college parties because they always reeked of alcohol and other drugs she didn’t want to be around. Her friend and dorm mate dragged her to a frat party. She had a crush on someone there and wanted Bunni as backup. Although she should be back in her dorm studying for her final, she said yes, why wouldn’t she? She always had her friend’s back. As they walked towards the frat house, they saw people splayed out on the lawn, some making out while others were in the corner retching. Bunni gagged at the scene. Her friend dragged her further inside the house, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and weed. “He’s right there!” her friend shouted as she dragged Bunni towards the front room where a few guys were sitting on the loveseat, the coffee table splattered with beer cans. Bunni’s eyebrows furrowed as she took in the scene, not noticing her friend was introducing her to the guys on the couch. She couldn’t care less about she only wanted this night to be over with already. Her eyes landed on a specific brunette boy, his messy hair pulled back by a backward cap, his blue eyes piercing through hers. She groaned seeing the cocky smirk on his face, turning her gaze elsewhere, but he seemed familiar. She felt she knew him, but couldn’t place him. This was shocking, as she’d never imagined herself knowing a frat boy. Sure, they went to the same college and stayed on the same campus, or so she thought. She wasn’t sure if she had ever seen him around, but knew him from somewhere.

Chris pov

I sat on the couch drinking out of my red solo cup. Me and the guys had thrown another party. Sure, it wasn’t the most convenient time since it was finals week, but who gave a fuck about finals? I could just find some random to get me the answers. It was no biggie. Plus, it was Friday night, the perfect night for a banger party, or so I thought. So far, all the girls I hit on seemed uninterested. Which was weird since they usually fawn over me. I sat on the couch, legs spread as I saw two girls walk towards us. One looked like she rather jump into moving traffic than be here. I wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying, or who they even were. One of them I had seen a few times but the other I had never seen before. Maybe she was new? Not as if I cared. I was more focused on how her pink skirt hugged her full thighs, nonetheless something about her face seemed familiar, like I’ve seen her somewhere before. I shook off the thought, taking another drink from my cup. She probably just had one of those familiar faces. My eyes lingered on her thighs as I took in the sight of her soft skin, my head tilting slightly as if trying to get a better look at what was underneath the skirt. My gaze trailed back up to her face, taking in her soft features, the color of her eyes, and her plump lips. God, they were perfect. They would probably look better wrapped around me-

Reader pov

Bunni groaned as she watched the guy size her up, his eyes taking in every inch of her body. She could see the slight smirk on his face as he tilted his head. It was making her sick to her stomach, but she couldn’t deny she kinda liked the attention. She watched as his thoughts got interrupted by one of his friends nudging him to the side. She let out a soft giggle as she quickly cleared her throat, trying to hide her reaction. Her friend had long gone with the other guy as they had gone upstairs, leaving Bunni alone once again. What she hated about her precious roommate was her always being too involved with guys to notice leaving her; however, she still loved her and would always be there for her. Seeking refuge from the frat boys, she searched the kitchen for a drink other than something that tasted like battery acid. She bent over as she rummaged through a container filled with drinks, trying to find something other than alcohol. She was never much of a fan of the drink. “Nice ass,” she heard a sultry voice say from behind her. She could feel his gaze on her backside. Spinning around, finally getting a proper look at him, her jaw dropped immediately as she quickly realized who it was, the pieces coming together. He furrows his eyebrows, his eyes scanning her features as a smirk appears across his features. “What do I have somethin’ on my face?” he asks, his eyes trailing down to her lips.

divider; @dollywons

tag list: @itsmaddielouis @55sturn

a/n; part two coming soon... anyways hopefully this is good I'm kinda nervous

[demigodsanswer]

Love your modern royal au. Could we see a jealous annabeth who decides to stake her claim scene? With percy just being adorably confused or too polite or just watching what happens 🙂‍↕️

Modern Royals AU

Three weeks after Paris

Annabeth was quietly fuming into her tequila soda as one of Percy's friend tried to talk to her over the music. From the corner of her eye, she could see Percy still dancing with some red-headed girl and guy who's name she recognized from Percy's vague references -- Frank, the ex-boyfriend.

She'd landed in New York last week, and in that time, she and Percy had hardly been separated. She already had a toothbrush and contact lenses case in his loft.

Percy was clear when he invited her out tonight that it was to meet some of his friends. She just didn't expect it to be an ex-boyfriend, a girl who was clearly in love with him (ex or not, she didn't know), and an older blonde man who simply wouldn't leave Annabeth alone.

"--and Percy is like a brother to me, but if you ever wanted to ditch him, I am single," the man, Luke said, with that overly familiar, friendly tone.

Annabeth smiled, mouth closed, eyes squinted, at him. "I find that hard to believe," she deadpanned.

Then, thank god, Percy was at her side, throwing an arm over her shoulder, his side a bit sweaty but not unpleasant.

"Leave her alone, or I'm telling my mom you were being disrespectful to women again," Percy threatened.

Luke just messed up Percy's hair before leaving the bar for the dance floor with a simple "Nice to meet you, Annabeth."

"Threatening a thirty-five year old with your mother really works?" Annabeth asked.

Percy shrugged and he signaled the bartender for two more drinks. "He tried to corrupt me when I was little. My mom Uno-reversed the whole thing, turned him into a somewhat respectable man."

"Heavy on the somewhat," Annabeth mumbled, drinking down the last of her drink before picking up the new one.

"Was he really bugging you?" Percy asked, more serious now.

"No, no," Annabeth waved it off, "it was fine really. I'd just rather be talking to you." She offered him a sweet smile, and he looked like he was about to kiss her, when Cascada's "Every Time We Touch" started.

"Percy!" The redhead, Rachel, said, running over and pulling on Percy's arm, yanking him away from Annabeth. "Come on! It's our song!"

Rachel had this swipe of blue paint on her cheek that Annabeth was sure was there on purpose. It was meant to look like an accident, of course. Some signal to the world that she was, in fact, artsy and bohemian, taking a break from long hours of painting to grace this bar with her presence. Rachel had a full face of makeup on under the paint, and the blue splotch was artfully emphasizing one of her cheekbones, on the side with the dimple. If Rachel had decided to flirt with her tonight instead of with Percy, Annabeth might have found the little touch cute, endearing even. But seeing this woman try and pull Percy away from her made the phony paint swipe nothing but a pretentious annoyance.

Percy pulled away from her. "In a second, Rache, let me just settle up here," Percy said.

Rachel left him alone after that, and Percy turned back to Annabeth. The sour look on her face must have been obvious. He poked her between her eye brows, where she knew her face had scrunched up. Her make up had probably settled in the crease too. She hoped Percy couldn't see that in the dim bar.

"You okay?" He asked her.

"I just didn't expect half your friends to be in love with you, is all," Annabeth said.

"You mean Rachel?" Percy asked.

"And Frank," Annabeth added.

"Frank's with my cousin now, actually," Percy said, as if that helped. Annabeth just took an aggressive sip of her drink.

"Look, your brother once left me alone on a beach for hours. I'd like to not go 0 for 2 on being abandoned by infanti of Spain," Annabeth said.

"The King decided my dad's kids would get the infante title," Percy said. Annabeth just rolled her eyes and tried to turn her attention back to the bar, but Percy hooked his fingers under her chin and pulled her face back to his. He kissed her quick. "And I have no intentions of leaving you alone here," he promised.

Annabeth caught Rachel looking at them over Percy's shoulder. So, Annabeth just threw her arms over Percy's shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. Annabeth let the kiss go on for an inappropriate amount of time, but she was waiting for the end of the song.

When they pulled away, Percy's eyes were wide.

"Wow, um, do you want to get out of here?" He asked.

Annabeth finished her drink. "Sure do," she said. Percy closed the tab quick as she got them a car, and they left without saying goodbye.

(A few hours later, Percy would lament that he'd been rude abandoning his friends like that and text them an apology, as Annabeth slipped back under the covers to remind him why he'd been so rude in the first place.)

[oralmisery]

Dear the King of Hawkins

The Love Letters were a means of catharsis, a way for Eddie to bare his soul. In private. They were never supposed to be sent.

Especially the one to Steve Harrington.

Basically a To All the Boys I've Loved Before au💌

[ complete fic on ao3 ]

Rating: E | WC: 12,293 | tags: Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, Dom Eddie, Sub Steve, One Shot, Porn with Feelings

When Steve sees the envelope he isn't sure what to think. It takes him a moment to even register who Eddie Munson is. In Steve’s circles, he’s usually referred to as “The Freak”. 

Munson is practically a permanent fixture of Hawkins high. A smear in the background, here to blemish Steve’s senior year since he flunked his own. If it's not Munson then it's some other oddly dressed weirdo. There's always people like that. The outcasts, the dregs, the ones you ignore. Except Munson. He’s pretty hard to ignore when he’s standing on lunch tables and being generally obnoxious. It's probably why there's so many rumors about him. Well that and being one of the only sources for drugs in town, Munson squeaks out of most beatdowns; what people can't punch they talk shit about.

People say all sorts of things. Satan worshiper. Nerd. Loser. Trash. Creep. Dangerous. Freak. Steve’s not sure how he can be a nerd and dangerous at the same time but he doesn't give it much thought. He's never even spoken to the guy. Tommy always got the weed on the rare occasion they wanted to smoke. 

That's why getting a letter from him was weird. It came in the mail. The mail. Mixed in with bills and coupons. It has a stamp, a little American flag. There is no reason for the guy to reach out to Steve, especially through the postal service.

Dear the King of Hawkins,

I'm sure every day is a sunny one when it's spent on a throne and under a crown. The way you walk these halls no one would believe otherwise. Everyone around you–drawn to your wealth, your looks and confidence–are just subjects turned fools. Led equally by charm and wrath. I wonder what it would be like to be favored in your court? To sit at your side, shoulder to shoulder, instead of distanced by so much more than just space? I can only piece together a flawed fantasy. A distorted image made from the glimpses I get from outside the castle gates. Assuming I’m even considered part of the kingdom, that is.

What the fuck is this. Steve snickers, did the freak send him a sad hate letter? Maybe to everyone in school? Tommy was going to have an absolute riot when he showed him, maybe they can compare letters.

I hope you at least know my name, Hawkins being as small as it is. You've never once looked at me like you actually see me. I know because I can't stop looking at you. Even though you're an entitled asshole, I happen to agree with what anyone with eyes can see. You are so beautiful I think they need to make a new word for it.

Alarms start ringing in his ears. He scans that last line over and over. No matter how many times he reads it, it doesn't change. He checks the front of the envelope to make sure it's really from Munson.

I wasn't surprised when you received your royal title. You’ve always had a way of commanding attention. Inspiring people to follow you blindly with enduring loyalty. I noticed it when I first moved here. I joined the 5th grade class halfway through the school year and everyone already knew each other. I was alone and scared shitless. I know you don't remember but that first week you invited me to a game of tag on the playground. You were genuinely nice, funny even. You made me feel like I could actually have friends here. Then Tommy returned to school after having the flu and we never talked again. I still remember your grin though, you had a tooth missing on the bottom row. Sometimes I see hints of that kid now, usually when you're talking up girls. I've got this sadistic urge to see your smile with a few teeth missing, just to compare you with your younger self. Which is entirely plausible with the fights you get into, but I fear the temptation to kiss you better will be too much.

He's right, Steve doesn't recall that at all. He's trying in vain to remember, but his memory has never been great and he's coming up blank. Can't even imagine Munson as a little kid, probably without his signature long hair. Nobody describes Steve as nice and actually means it. He skips over the word kiss because it’s giving him a terrible stomach ache. He drops into a chair and sets the letter on the kitchen table so the sweat on his palms doesn't smudge the paper.

Ya know, while I agree with the king stuff, I much prefer “The Hair”. Talk about temptation. Your hair haunts me. It makes my brain stutter, I want to simultaneously pet it softly and pull it out of your skull. I get why people used to give locks of hair as mementos. If I had a piece of yours, I'd twirl it around my fingers, imagining what I could do to the source. I want to see those brown waves messy, tug on them until your head looks like a bird nest. I want to see your hair spread out on my sheets. I want to find strands of it on my jacket, in my van, and clogging my shower drain.

It's hopeless, this infatuation. Fucking terrible in all honesty. You're a distraction I can't afford. I'm pretty sure I failed history last semester solely on the fact that you chew pens. It's a cruel combination; wandering attention and a vivid imagination. With the amount of times I've pictured you stretched around my cock, fingers, and tongue I can almost recall you clenching down on me like a real memory. I imagine opening you up real slow until you're begging for it with tears dripping down your face. The background changes like flipping through channels on a TV. Over the hood of your stupid car, Mrs. O'Donnell desk, the picnic table behind the school, anywhere that has a surface really. I probably imagine us most in my bed though. 

Steve’s stomach twists and revulsion burns his throat. It's fucking gross, Munson is a guy . And why the hell would Steve be the receiver in all this? Unwanted, graphic images play behind his eyes. He can't help it, the letter is descriptive. He can feel cold metal on his stomach and wood chafing along his back. Taste phantom salt from tears. He reaches up to run a jittery hand through his hair but aborts the gesture midway when he thinks about Munson wanting to do the same exact thing.

He considers just ripping up the letter without reading the rest but sick curiosity stops him. Like peeking out between fingers to watch a scary movie.

If it was just lust I could handle it. Teenage hormones and all that. But it's deeper than that, more than sex, I want you to look at me like everyone looks at you, like a king. It's horribly cliché but I want you to call me baby and hold my hand. Most of all I want to show you that someone cares about you because I'm worried you don't know that. There's this look on your face when no one else is watching, like you're not here but you want to be. Like you're waiting for something that's not coming. I think it's loneliness. Heaven knows I've felt it enough to recognize it. Maybe that's why I'm still harboring this torch for you even though it’s pointless. I wish I had the chance to make you happy, to take care of you and erase the word abandonment from your vocabulary. Even now, through the crowd, in the bleachers, the other side of the cafeteria, across the entirety of this shitty town, you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

A drop of liquid falls onto the paper, right next to Eddie’s signature. It knocks Steve out of his mental spiral and he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. He didn't even realize they were leaking tracks down his face. 

you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

What the fuck is this. Eddie “the freak” Munson is in love with him? What's more upsetting is Steve’s gut reaction; he doesn't deserve it. This level of devotion. He suddenly sees himself from an outside perspective. He's not a good person. There's an inherent reason why his parents are gone most of the time, his friends are mean and shallow, and he jumps from girl to girl. There’s something lacking in him that drives people away, unless he–what were Munson's words?– leads with charm and wrath .

How does Munson know he's lonely when Steve didn't even know? It's mortifying to put an actual word to the feeling. That his efforts to surround himself with people, the “right” people, have apparently meant fuck all. He must look so pathetic to Munson, a deadbeat loser, who sees through him like glass.

What’s the guy’s deal? Why did Munson even send this? What does he expect from Steve? He wrote the words himself. Hopeless. Pointless . There's no ask to meet up, not even a request for an answer. He just drops this bomb into Steve’s life and expects to make a quiet exit? Just wants Steve to know he's loved for the sake of it? That’s dramatic even for the freak. The guy spends too much time doped up if he thinks he's going to flay Steve open and get away with it.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

Steve traces over the word Yours, with a finger. He’s going to get answers. 

[ continue reading ]

[candycryptids]

Hiya! I hope you're doing well today! I love your characters and how you've structered their bios! Since Chuusday is listed first, is she technically your official WOL or is it someone else? Do you canonically have a WOL in the first place?

Also, I find it SO sweet that you and one of your partners both play FFXIV and have characters paired together ;w; Did you meet ingame or long before either of you started playing? Either way I wish you both the best!!! <3 - gardenofballads 🌻

Awaaaah! Im doing pretty ok!!! Taking time to answer this as a wind down from Emerald Weapon Ex Brain Soupage. And I’m so glad! ;W; I think I butchered one of those “Get To Know An OC” thingies- uhh… oh [this one] actually! I chopped a lot out and I think added a couple different thingums instead because there was so much to that that it felt overwhelming to try to look at let alone fill out LOL but it was a really good jumping off point uvu;

And!!! Hilariously Chuu was my First XIV Character, so she’s dear to my heart for being the first one- but she very quickly made it known being the WOL even as an AU was something of a Joke (Her character showed great reluctance and even frustration at having to do So Much World Saving, maybe a side-effect of me rushing through MSQ to catch up with my other spouse [Who plays Talia, though they’ve got less time for XIV these days ;0;] and the rest of my friends who were all EndGame already at the time in Shadowbringers fhdjfjsjfs.) So I made…… many alts. Throwing spaghetti at the wall but I have SEVERE side-character/NPC brain and kept making “supporting cast” types =w=; it actually took me like. 3? Alts before making an ACTUAL WoL with my husband (Ishi’li and Kizuna) (as of Right Meow, they’re in post ARR, but we’ve been working on Keathan and Tuesday together because Keathan was… Keathan’s first character in xiv XD so we’ve been jaunting through the story together and experiencing every inch of it so we can pick and choose what The Boys™ get up to when we wanna focus on them x3)

🥰 I knew both speece during at least high school- but I actually knew Keathan as early as Elementary school hehe 😌 tho the speece didn’t proper marry until… i’unno, 2017? (For frustrating legal reasons, I’m not legally married, but. As it goes. Someday we’ll have money to visit the one state that has legal poly marriages. Also I struggle to remember our wedding year 🫢)

Since managing to make a Co-WoL with my husband I’ve managed to make one other Alt meant to be a Solo-WoL (Mochiie) but I have to really wrinkle my brain to sink time into playing him, since I’m trying to take screenshots throughout the story at what I find to be inspiring beats xD And even still he has an alt-universe where he’s just a side-character for the ‘Main Timeline’ (where there’s a bunch of spaghetti and like 8+ confirmed WoL’s and the Msq entourage looks HILARIOUS in canon, someday I’ll get all the data together and take pictures, but I think it’ll cook what’s left of my brain x’3) [it’s less concrete than anything I’ve posted about before or I’d try to explain it ;v;’ it’s just interesting mostly to see how the story gets stretched to fit around a larger community of heroes than a solo guy shouldering the whole burden lmfao.]

🌸🌸🌸…. I also hope you’re having a lovely week @gardenofballads !!!! I am tossing flower petals into the air around you !!! Thank you for the ask and well wishes n kind words 🥺💖 🌸🌸🌸

[sysig]

Sick threads where’d you get ‘em (Patreon)

[seagull-scribbles]

Lie Awake

A TMNT 2012 Casey and Raph ficlet [AO3]

word count: 1,191

just a small drabble focusing on Casey and his view of their relationship. I didn't write this as a ship fic, but I do ship them so you can interpret it as platonic or romantic

Casey hates people seeing him as weak. He wears every cut, bruise and mark like a medal, a badge of honour for a hockey game well played or a fight well fought. He hates when neighbours or the school populace look at him with pity in their eyes and sympathy coating their words like sponge covering a toddlers playroom or bubble wrap suffocating a porcelain doll.

So what if he doesn't have a mom anymore? Who cares about his deadbeat dad? Casey is keeping his promise and at almost 17 is protecting and looking after his sister, the best player on a hockey team within the region and a vigilante the purple dragons will write legends about. He is strong and brave. He bounces back from anything with a witty comment and a toothy grin. Missing incisors be damned.

So why is this different? Strong, calloused, leathery hands gently graze over fragile skin. Instead of the usual burn of anger such caution would ignite, Casey Jones feels a sense of calm and his breath almost gets caught in his throat. Almost. Arms he has seen tear robots to shreds, dislocate joints from vigilantes, break monstrous jaws are now delicately tracing over his pale soft surface, well- it should be pale but the current complection is primarily a mixture of injuries, marks and dirt. Purple, blue, green, yellow, pinks, reds- any colour besides a natural skin tone coats his body like a vandalised back alley wall.

The hand stops moving and instead a comforting weight is placed across Casey's chest and torso. The weight he has seen choke and crush wrong-dooers, crack brick walls and dent spaceship walls now comfortably rests along his side like a weighted blanket, the arm across his middle.

Awareness of his current location comes back. Why's the ceiling looking blurry suddenly? Casey realises his eyes are starting to water. These can't be tears of frustration though? Maybe these are not new tears but the remnants of the storm that leaked from those eyes earlier this evening, in the privacy of these four walls as his own inner walls crumbled in Front of his current companion. No mask or face paint or armour, no facade of cokyness and happiness. His emotions are raw and his mind is still screaming at him, maybe that's why he hadn't noticed the burning eyes. These tears can't be new. Definitely not! He's happy and safe now, why would they be? He is brought from his thoughts as a hard smooth surface buts the bottom of his jaw, sending a short vibration of pain through his skull.

"'Ya sure this is alright?" A gruff voice nervously whispers.

"Yeah, 's fine" he mumbles back before finally looking down at the friend pressed against him. His own voice sounds raspy and sore. Perfect.

Raph has put his head back down on the pillow, his beak fitting like a jigsaw puzzle in the gap above Casey's shoulder. The bolt he'd felt had been from Ralph bucking his head to hit his jaw with the top curve of his beak. It hurt a little but he isn't fragile. Raph knows that. All he can feel now is that comforting weight on his side. He's focusing on it. Raph certainly wasn't scared to touch him. Why else would he hit him to gain his attention?

Soft cold breath gently brushes against Casey's neck in delicate puffs.

"I can sleep on the floor y'know?" tiredly drifts out of the terrapin creatures mouth "This bed ain't exactly made for two"

"Nah it's your room, I'm the intruder"

"Hmm" Raph lazily hums and slightly squeezes his ribs, getting comfortable in his squashed position on the edge of the bed "a warm one".

Casey sits there in silence for a bit, his friend drifting off to sleep. The overwhelming smell of sweat and blood and the sewers clogging his nose. Raphael is the only person Casey talks to about his home life, the only one he talks about his troubles too. He knows Raph instils that same comfort and confidence in him as he tells the lanky teen his own insecurities and secrets.

Tender moments like these however? They usually proceed fights. Fights they start coated in darkness or just heated spars between friends who are shouting and blowing off steam. They'd collapse with exhaustion on some random rooftop and through jagged breaths become vulnerable, no eye contact, maybe a squeeze of the hand or a punch in the side to let the other one know they're there. Kind, soft and comforting pain. Like the kind you get from laughing too hard or playing a game. It is strange to think they are now squashed and laid across each other, even if the reptile insists the body warmth was an exciting upgrade to his sleeping arrangement.

Casey was kicked out tonight after a particularly bad fight at home, he limped his way to his usual meeting spot and a few texts later Raph was on his way. He's going to be staying here with his friend, just tonight... he'll go home tomorrow. No one else in the sewer family needs to know why, Raph will come up with a lame excuse to torment him with. The thought makes him smile a little. Raph is the epitome of masculinity. Testosterone coats his existence like a second shell. He's violent and abrasive and yet here he is, not throwing punches, but still being gentle. His body weight is not entirely on top of the teen, but it is there along his right side nonetheless. He wasn't repulsed by Casey and he hadn't tried sugar coating anything all night. When he 'picked him up' he'd joked at Casey's expense and made the boy laugh. Casey wasn't too sure how Raph managed to create such a strong positive moment up on that rooftop in those circumstances. But none of the Hamato clan followed logic by nature so maybe that is not so surprising.

Casey isn't sure why this isn't affecting him the way it usually does. He feels calm and safe, even stripped down to his boxers and pressed into an old smelly matrice and cold metal wall.

Maybe it's because he keeps reminding himself that Raph doesn't see the squishy, thin human as delicate. He knows the turtle enough to know he considers Casey a great enough fighter to stand amongst his brothers, without any formal training or skill.

Maybe that's why this tender moment is nice? Raph isn't scared Casey will break, he wouldn't touch him if he thought he'd be hurt. Raph wouldn't joke with him and invite him here like this. The ninja had seen the boy break earlier, as he broke down and sobbed on the bed when they first arrived at the decorated subway car. The weight against him now is heavy, not crushing. It's grounding him.

Why is being treated tenderly so nice right now? Maybe that's the kind of privilege having a best friend creates? He doesn't remember his childhood friend creating such a welcoming environment before though.

Casey hates people seeing him as weak. Raph doesn't, even now.

[creamecream]

Dancing Des~

[corvidiss]

#smile at people #a majority of the time people will smile back and you win Human Points #learn how to compliment people and do it often #Normalcy is a perspective that changes depending on who is looking but kindness and a positive attitude shows the same view to everyone #basic politeness with a little extra effort is amazingly difficult at times #but it goes MILES

Genuinely good advice from @aroace-get-out-of-my-face

can someone recommend some beginner normal behaviors for someone looking to become normal

[bookwormsbutterfly]

I find the love triangle trope frustrating in fiction, how the fuck did I wind up in one irl? I'm not a goddamn romance protagonist, what's next, a truck hits me and I get isekaid? Are my sweet and shy love interests going to uncharacteristically fight?

[gendercensus]

The 2024 Gender Census is now open!

[ Link to survey ]

The 11th annual international gender census, collecting information about the language we use to refer to ourselves and each other, is now open until 13th June 2024.

It’s short and easy, about 5 minutes probably.

After the survey is closed I’ll process the results and publish a spreadsheet of the data and a report summarising the main findings. Then anyone can use them for academic or business purposes, self-advocacy, tracking the popularity of language over time, and just feeling like we’re part of a huge and diverse community.

If you think you might have friends and followers who’d be interested, please do reblog this blog post, and share the survey URL by email or at AFK social groups or on other social networks. Every share is extremely helpful - it’s what helped us get 40,000 responses last year.

Survey URL: https://survey.gendercensus.com

The 2024 survey is now closed!

The survey is open to anyone anywhere who speaks English and feels that the gender binary doesn’t fully describe their experience of themselves and their gender(s) or lack thereof.

For the curious, you can also spy on some graphs and demographic data for the incoming responses here.

Thank you so much!

[ Link to survey ]

Image credit: Malachite and rhodochrosite.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[starry-bi-sky]

FIRST OFF, this inspired me to draw more ras danyal so:

(that last one says 'someone left the (non)local teen cult leader unsupervised. now he has swords :)' for anyone who can't read my chicken scratch handwriting)

i know Ras Danyal isn't TECHNICALLY the LoA leader in his world (since LoA doesn't exist) but 'teen cult leader' felt much snappier and funnier than 'teen cult leader (but not actually)' did. Plus I think it'd be hilarious if one of the heroes saw Danny with swords post-finding out he's a Ras variant and going; 'WHY DOES THE TEENAGE CULT LEADER HAVE SWORDS.'

SECOND OFF: MAN this is so cinematic. Madly in love with it. Like!!! AaaaaAAAA!! I can totally imagine this shot being like, from the start of a movie. I can just imagine the camera panning from a wide environment shot to Danny racing through the streets of the town/village. Maybe if we're feeling bold it could be him hopping from rooftop to rooftop between the close-together buildings. Really fancy cinematic parkour stuff.

It gives us a good shot of the village, which is full of life and vibrant with people and plantlife. It's built into the side of a mountain so Nanda Parbat is pretty secluded from everywhere else, but it's so nice and pretty. Ras Danyal loves visiting Nanda Parbat in the summers, and he was genuinely upset that they missed going one year because of the portal. He has close friends here just as he does back in Amity.

The cinematic shot ends with Danny dropping down from somewhere into a roll, and then popping back up while laughing. He's down at the plaza-area, where the rest of his friends are, and he's slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

"There you are, Ras!" His friend Maryam calls, and he jogs over to her and the others. "You're the last one."

"Sorry, I was looking around." Ras Danny says, still smiling and not sounding all that apologetic. "Had to see if anything changed since I was last here."

And you're right, he probably DID say something stupid like that. Slung both his arms around his other two friends Rahim and Ahsan and said with a sly smile, "With everything going on in Amity? I'm planning for a quiet summer here in Nanda." and forgot to knock on wood.

Danny Is An Alternate Version Of Ra's Al Ghul And Flash Already Called Dibs On Adopting Him

Danny In All His Sleep Deprived Slightly Scuffed Up From A Fight Glory Is On His Way To Clockworks Tower To Hopefully Get A Nap And Maybe Some Homework Done When A Natural Portal Opens Up In Front Of Him And Proceeds To Unceremoniously Drop Him In The DC Verse Just Outside Of Central City Before Promptly Closing Leaving A Tired Danny Behind In A Run Down Abandoned Parking Lot.

It's Times Like This When Danny Regrets Putting Off Learning How To Make His Own Portals, Cause Now He Is Very Much Stuck For The Foreseeable Future And He Has No Idea Where Or When He Is. Luckily For Him However Central City Isn't Too Far Away, Unlucky For Him However Is That Once In The City He Realizes This Isn't His Dimension. He's Pretty Sure He'd Remember Something Called The Justice League.

So What Do You Do When Supernatural Bullshit Fails You? You Fall Back On Your Mad Scientist Roots And You Make A Portal Gun. So That's Exactly What Danny Plans To Do.

Unfortunately Staying Alive And Building Questionably Safe Portal Technology Requires Money And Supplies, So He Ends Up Wandering From City To City Doing Odd Jobs/Fixing Up Busted Tech For Cash Or Unwanted Electronics For His "Operation: Get Home" Needs. This Obviously Ends In A Few Superhero Encounter Shenanigans.

Though He Always Ends Up Back Near Central City, Both On The Off Chance The Natural Portal Will Open Up Again And Because Out Of All The Superheroes That Apparently Exist In This Universe The Speedsters Are His Favorite (Red Robin Is Solidly His Second Favorite Ever Since The Gotham Vigilante Gave Him A Large Coffee Filled With Enough Caffeine To Kill A Man).

Unbeknownst To Danny However Is That Every Hero/Vigilante He Has Encountered Has Come To At Least One Of The Following Conclusions; 1. Run Away Meta Who Is In Desperate Need Of A Good Meal/Adoption Bait. 2. Possibly Red Robin/Tim Drake Clone 3. A Good Kid But Could Possibly Be A Future Rouge If Left Unsupervised. 4. Did Bats Get A New Kid And Why Is He Here?

All Flash Knows Is That He Saw The Kid First And Therefore Has Dibs. Suck It Bruce.

Fast-forward A Few Months And Danny Gets Hurt During A Rogue Attack While Trying To Help Some Civilians Get To Safety (Old Hero Habits Die Hard (Ha Die Hard) And All That Jazz) And He Nopes Out Once Everyone Is Safe And When The Paramedics Are Busy With Other People Unaware He Left A Blood Sample Behind.

One DNA Test Brought To You By Paranoid Bat Concerns Of A Possible Red Robin Clone Later And They Find Out That Dannys DNA Matches One Ra's Al Ghul.

They Now Think Danny Is An Escaped Ra's Al Ghul Clone.

Memes For The Vibes:

[cy-cyborg]

Free Manual Wheelchair Reference Models

ID: A banner with grey 3D models of 5 kinds of manual wheelchairs in a line in front of the disability pride flag and text that reads "Manual Wheelchair References" /End ID

For disability pride month, I decided to release a pack of 3D manual wheelchair models.

The pack includes 5 wheelchairs:

2 Active urban-style chairs (one of which includes a smart drive)

1 off-road active chair

1 children's wheelchair

and 1 standard "hospital" wheelchair).

All the wheelchairs are based off either wheelchairs I or friends of mine have used

Downloadable here!

or on the Clip Studio Paint Asset Store (ID 2097442) (there's been an issue with the CSP version, but the models in the download folder can be imported into clip studio paint until I can fix it)

More info about the download contents below:

The first download link includes the original .Blend file with all 5 chairs, as well as individual .obj or .fbx files the chairs (All but 1 have an .obj file, as they're only meshes. The chair with the smart drive is rigged, which is why it has an .Fbx file instead so it will retain that information) as well as a "read me" file that explains in more depth what kind of disability/character/lifestyle each chair is made for (These are just what I had in mind when I designed them, they are usable by other characters who don't fit the suggestions for the most part!) I wanted to include the Read Me contents in the CSP Asset Store listing, but CS said it was too long lol.

Also, as the title says, these files are free to use! While it's not mandatory, I would appreciate credit if you use them (or even just a tag so I can see the cool art you make with them!!)

I actually made these ages ago, the original plan was to use them in a series of posts then release the pack, but I never got around to making the series and so they've just been sitting here. I took a day off from art fight attacks to clean them all up and get them ready to post. If you experience any issues, let me know and I'll try to fix it up.

I had a couple more that were supposed to be in the pack including a sports (basketball/Tennis) wheelchair and some different styles of wheelchair, but I think the files corrupted so once I fix (or remake) them, I'll probably make a second pack.

If you have any issues, please let me know!

[imaginedisish]

Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's something short and sweet. This is based on a request, so I hope the requester enjoys :) No song references here, but "Modern Love" by David Bowie seems appropriate. It's 80s, New Wave-y, and we're in an arcade in this fic, so it fits.

Summary: The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

Warnings: Suggestive content (would totally write a second part with some true smut), tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, cursing, f!reader/afab!reader, grumpy!Logan, Jubilee is a cock block LOL, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,685 short and sweet indeed

“I do not want to be here,” Logan complains, rolling his eyes as the team strolls into the arcade. 

Jubilee skips inside, twirling with excitement. “Well, that’s just too bad, Logan!” She calls, running over to the arcade’s version of Dance Dance Revolution. Kurt is laughing, following at her heels. “Because everyone else is going to have a great time!” 

“Gambit’s winning big tonight,” Gambit says, taking Rogue’s hand in his. “Gambit’s winning chere a prize, he is.” Rogue blushes, letting Gambit pull her to one of the fake slot machines. 

Jean and Scott walk over to an older machine—Pac-Man or something similar, probably. Storm and Charles head towards the seating area near the snack bar in the back, leaving you and Logan to yourselves. Of course. You’re alone with Logan. The person you want but you know you can’t have. 

You’re friends—just friends. You’ve accepted that he’ll never see you as anything more, but it still hurts. 

“So…” You say, trailing off as Logan looks around the arcade. “Not your kind of place, huh?”

“Not particularly,” he says back, his eyes finding yours. You can’t help but smile at that stupid, grumpy look on his face. “You like this shit?” He asks, smiling back at you. 

You shrug your shoulders, noncommittal. “I think you’d have fun if you tried,” you say, nodding towards the crane machine, and walking over. You can hear Logan’s footsteps against the carpet, following you close behind.

You peer into the glass, looking at all the stuffed animals filling the machine. Your smile widens when you spot the cute little turtle in the back—green and brown, wide eyes, and extra plush and round. Logan leans against the machine, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Which one are we going for?” He asks. We—you can’t help but replay the word in your head. There’s a “we” in this. You and Logan. 

You point to the turtle in the back row. “We’re going for that one,” you say, and his eyes find the green little thing. “Isn’t he cute?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear, his grumpiness seemingly gone now. “Sure, princess, sure he is.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of the familiar pet name. You lean down to put a quarter in the machine, trying your best not to overthink the situation. The crane starts up, whirring to life, giving you three tries to win the stuffy. 

You maneuver the crane to the back row, just above the turtle. “Do you think that’s good?” You ask, looking towards Logan. But he isn’t looking at the machine; he’s looking at you, smirking. “What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes incredulously. 

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Logan says, his smirk unwavering. You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he peers into the machine. He nods, his eyes finding yours again, changing the subject before you can respond to his comment. “Looks good to me.”

You swallow nervously, pressing the button on the top of the stick, sending the crane down to the stuffy. It grabs the turtle, holding it up. It looks like it’s going to make it, but it falls in the center of the glass box. You groan, annoyed as the crane moves back to position. You try again, bringing the crane to the center of the machine, just above the turtle, and dropping it again. The silver claws grip the plushy, but it’s a bad grab—the turtle slipping right out of its grasp. 

 “Fucking rigged,” you mutter, moving the crane over the turtle for the final time. “This is it,” you say, looking at Logan. He’s suddenly shifting closer to you, standing behind you and pressing his front to your back. His arms rest on either side of the crane machine’s controls, caging you in. 

“Much better view from here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You’re distracted by how close he is. You can smell him—tobacco and pine and musk. “Let’s see if it works, princess.” This is too much. Far more than you can possibly handle. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes surveying the crane’s distance from the turtle carefully, and you press the button. The crane drops, grabbing the stuffy, and picking it up successfully. “Yes!” You say, looking back at Logan. His face is inches from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your lips. Your noses are so close, brushing together softly. He leans in, lips parted. 

“Game over!” A robotic, automated voice rings out, the crane whirling back into position. It snaps you back to reality, and you look inside the machine. There, off to the side just next to the machine’s drop box, is the turtle. 

“Shit,” you mumble, shoulders slumping with disappointment. You know it’s just a game, and you are an adult after all, but you can’t help the frown that forms across your face. “I really wanted him. I was gonna name him Bernie.”

Logan chuckles. “Bernie?” he asks, and you nod. He’s centimeters away from you again, leaning in. “Don’t sweat the loss, princess. You’re cuter than that little thing is anyw—"

“Look what Kurt and I got with our tickets!” Jubilee is suddenly in front of you, a stuffed, sparkly blue dinosaur in her hand. She’s tugging you away from Logan and across the arcade before you can protest. “You gotta dance with me!” You look back at Logan, who’s standing alone in front of the crane machine, arms tucked against his chest. 

Have fun, he mouths. And good luck. He winks at you as Jubilee whisks you off to Dance Dance Revolution. You let her pick the song, and you struggle through the round, your feet tapping to the beat. You and Jubilee are a laughing mess. You know you look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s fun. 

And yet, your mind still wanders to Logan. You think about how close he was to you, the way his lips practically brushed against yours—the ghost of a kiss. You think about the way he caged you in, pressed against your back. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize how badly you’re fumbling all the moves; you don’t hear Jubilee calling your name. 

“Hey!” She shouts, finally bringing you back to reality. The round is over; you missed the entire second half of the dance. “Where’d you go just there?” She asks, concern hidden within her smile.  

You look over to the crane machine, expecting to see Logan, but he’s gone. In fact, you can’t find him anywhere. “Sorry Jubes, but I gotta go see about something,” you say, stepping off the platform. 

Your eyes search the arcade. Gambit and Rogue are at the ticket redemption counter, picking out a big stuffed bear. Kurt is fooling around on one of those motorcycle racing games. Storm and Charles are—uncharacteristically—sharing a soft pretzel, while Jean and Scott share a milkshake. Everyone is here and accounted for except Logan. 

That is, until you notice the puff of smoke in the corner of the glass door at the front of the arcade. You smirk, walking towards the entrance and pushing the door open. 

Logan leans against the brick wall of the building, cigar in his mouth. His head turns towards you, and he immediately takes the cigar out, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot. 

“Hi,” you whisper, standing next to him. 

He looks down at you, smiling widely. “Hi.” He’s leaning in again—so close—and a shiver runs up your spine. “Cold?” He asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket before you have a chance to answer. He helps you into the jacket one arm at a time, his eyes drinking you in once it’s on, trailing up and down your body. “Looks good on you,” he hums. “Way better than it does on me.”

You shake your head, letting your shoulder brush against his. You look over at him and suddenly notice something green and round in his hand. “What’s that?” You ask. But you already know. You recognize the little brown spots and the wide eyes. 

Logan smirks, lifting the turtle up. “Couldn’t let you go home without him,” he says, holding it out towards you. 

“No way!” You shout, ignoring the turtle and throwing your arms around Logan’s neck. It’s instinctive, natural. He tugs you in closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you so much,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe you ended up playing a game at an arcade.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against your temple. The sudden vulnerability of his words makes your heart tighten in your chest. You stay like that for a while, his lips ghosting your forehead, your chests pressed together. You finally lift your head, looking up at Logan. 

“Lo?” You whisper, and his gaze meets yours, flitting between your eyes and your lips. He drops the plushy onto the bench next to him and walks you back into the brick wall, caging you in, hands on either side of your waist. 

He leans in. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He brings one hand to your hip, gripping gently. “What do you need?”

“Y-you,” you stutter. “I need y—"

His lips swallow your words, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. The kiss is slow, languid, but you can feel his need in the way he moves against you, hands slipping underneath the borrowed jacket and your shirt to explore your skin. His fingertips drag along your back, relaxing you into his touch. 

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Logan mumbles against your lips. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. “But what about the others?” You ask, nodding to the arcade.

Logan smirks, stealing another kiss. “All the more reason to get back to the mansion before they do.”

“But how are we going to—”

He grips your waist, tugging you towards the parking lot. “I took my bike, pretty girl.”

Oh?

Oh. 

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.