#sa is bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sincerelybubbles · 29 days

Note

Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag.

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness.

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk.

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return.

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s.

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time.

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor.

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box.

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you.

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan.

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch.

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night.

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet.

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless.

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class.

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue.

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses.

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy.

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash.

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her.

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends.

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do.

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up.

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group.

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong.

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute.

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves.

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms.

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button.

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct.

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch.

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl.

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening.

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking.

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints.

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair.

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out.

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops.

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes.

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him.

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door.

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow.

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen.

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand.

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile.

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her.

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open.

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably.

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next.

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked.

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her.

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well.

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts.

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact.

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown.

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home.

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm.

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom.

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit.

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands.

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room.

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests.

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked.

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge.

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him.

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face.

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth.

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you.

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed.

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor.

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you.

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment.

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go.

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit.

Not that you really want to leave.

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work.

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally.

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver.

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh.

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness.

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities.

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows.

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped.

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains.

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored.

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head.

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts.

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity.

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him.

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive.

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood.

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time.

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin.

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones.

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found.

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click.

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested.

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now.

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap.

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back.

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened.

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway.

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down.

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that.

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open.

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him.

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp.

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes.

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest.

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder.

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three.

She tries with you in the ambulance.

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way.

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system.

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you.

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored.

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help.

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time.

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway.

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes.

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged.

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes.

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared.

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut.

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours.

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair.

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it.

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further.

“I’m perfect.”

306 notes · View notes

charlietheepicwriter7 · 9 months

Text

It's Horrible Idea monday and here's Extremely Bad Person Talia

After a long and fulfilling life, Danny is reincarnated into a clone of Bruce Wayne that Talia created to... ahem, replace OG Bruce who now wants nothing to do with her after killing Damian that one time. Danny finds out that her intentions towards him are extremely inappropriate considering he's only a few weeks old and books it before he's OG Bruce's age.

#dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #c: danny fenton #danny sweetie i'm so sorry i thought this #not sorry enough not to post it though #extremely bad person talia #c: talia al ghul #cw sa implied #Danny: Nope nope nope with a rope

735 notes · View notes

aq2003 · 3 months

Text

to the people using the whole "david tennant getting attacked by govt officials for supporting trans ppl" thing to shield neil gaiman from real allegations of sexual assault I Am Killing You With My Mind. like what the hell how did we get here. yes there are a bunch of terfs using this as "proof" to say all people that support trans rights are secretly horrible people. yes the paywalled conservative podcast is unethical. no this does not dismiss the validity of the allegations and no this does not mean this is all a conspiracy made by the transphobes to target your favorite lgbt allies (??) or influence the election (??!). EVEN IF WE TAKE NEIL AT HIS WORD those are still two relationships w SEVERE power imbalances and u should not be defending him. Lord

#parasocial relationships bad and yes i am mentally prepared to be disappointed by david too re: the possibility he continues working w neil #cuz like. lbr a good chunk of actors in the industry don't really give a fuck about that #i get u guys like good omens a lot but like Please Use Your Minds #do not say 'i support victims!' and then proceed to not support the victims #what the hell #neil gaiman #sa cw

161 notes · View notes

arson-09 · 7 months

Text

Nesta and Tamlin being like the only reasonable characters in acotar yet also the most hated is so funny. They have the most nuance and in my humble opinion actual character yet they are heavily boiled down to being… mean. like thats all they get.

They dont fall for the night courts bullshit and get fucking crucified by the majority fandom for it. They have negative emotions that effect Feyfey and rice and tamlin and nesta are EVIL for it. Im sorry to break it to all yall feysanders but the whole world doesnt revolve around those mfs and character (and real people) are allowed to dislike and not agree with them💀💀 especially when they are FUCKING HYPOCRITES AND SUCK🗣️🗣️

379 notes · View notes

too-much-tma-stuff · 7 months

Text

Finally getting help (prt 4)

Masterpost

The bats worked through the night, coordinating and researching everything that needed to be done. Distortion showed up on the camera which they assumed was Vlad trying to get in but he didn’t manage it. After he finished trying from multiple angels including somehow from directly above (well Zatana did say invisibility, intangibility, and flight were the minimal powers they should expect from creatures of the infinite realms.) He turned human again and spent a long time banging on their front door.

He tried to call the cops but commissioner Gordon called Bruce directly to get the full story then told Vlad it could be dealt with in the morning. Zatana was also coordinating people heading to Amity, a full on raid of the GIW, and the Fentons.

Batman and Superman were collecting all the information that the raid team was sending out and workshopping public statements they could sent out to the public and the government about the unacceptable things they had found and the steps the JL was taking to fix it. The government was not going to be happy they knew, with the JL ‘over-stepping’ into their business and actually getting the word out about the atrocities a branch of their government and their pet scientists had been planning. The JL needed to get out ahead of it before the narrative could be twisted against them.

It was first thing in the morning when they did a live broadcast from the watchtower with Batman, Superman, and Zatana telling the world about the parallel world existing harmlessly along side their own, and the way the government tried to exploit it. The atrocities committed under the name of the Anti-Ecto acts with the ignorance of the public as a cover.

It was at the same time that Constantine, Dick, and Cas were raiding the Fenton’s home. Of course they were armed, but so were the bats, and they were used to fighting people who were armed. It wasn’t a particularly hard fight.

A redhead was sitting wide eyed at the kitchen table. “Can’t we just have one normal day!” She suddenly snapped but she was glaring at her parents, standing up and slamming her hands on the table. “First you send Danny away with Vlad even though you KNOW they hate each other and it’s a school day and now this! What did you do to bring the heroes down on us!?”

“I don’t know Jazzybear!” Jack half whined as he was forced into power supressing cuffs to neutralize his minor super strength and sat down in the living room.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, don’t worry sweetie,” Maddie added, both of them were dressed in jump suits which did not help their supervillain vibes.

“it’s not a mistake mate, you’ve been messing with shit you really shouldn’t. And that portal in your basement is a fucking beacon welcoming a war. You’ve gone unchecked for too god damn long, we’re taking over things now.” Constantine told them before stalking down into the basement with Tim on his heels, Batman would be joining them as soon as they were done their press conference.

Cas stayed to watch the parents and Dick approached Jazz gently. “Hey can I talk to you in private please? It’s about your brother,” He said gently and she stiffened immediately. Looking at him in a way that made him feel like she could see straight into his soul and froze him to the spot. After a moment though she just sighed and nodded, beckoning to him to follow her upstairs, to a room that was probably Danny’s not her own. She sat on his bed and grabbed a bear that had been sitting on the edge, waving for him to sit at the desk.

“So, what do you know?” She asked with a sigh.

“Well, last night Vlad took Danny to a Wayne Gala, one of Bruce’s daughter Cas is really good with body language and clocked that something was wrong so she and one of the other kids got him away from Vlad and out of the party. I guess he really needed some adult support because he broke down and told them a lot, about the Phantom thing, the ghosts and… something you’re not going to like. But first I want you to know he’s safe, Bruce Wayne is a licensed foster parent and he’s taking good care of Danny, you can come live with them too if you want.

“We’re going to deal with the ghosts and the GIW and everything else now, I can’t promise by the end of this you won’t need somewhere else to go. I have a feeling if Batman and the Martian family have anything to say about this your parents will end up in prison for their unethical experiments.”

“As long as Danny is okay,” Jazz said firmly. “I was only staying to take care of him anyway, just get me emancipated and a scholarship for Gotham U so I can study while still being close to him I’ll be fine. I’m almost 18 as it is.”

Dick nodded, she was a smart and driven girl, she knew what she wanted, he could respect that. “Now, the thing you won’t like…” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “Danny is pregnant.”

“What!?“ Jazz blanched, gaping at him for a long minute. “That can’t be right! I mean I knew he was trans but he’s usually only interested in girls, how would he even-“ She cut off her eyes widening. “It was Vlad wasn’t it?” She gritted out with an expression the promised excruciating violence.

“Yes,” Dick said shifting awkwardly in his chair.

“Right.” Jazz said and got up, coldly calm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She grabbed a baseball bat from next to Danny’s bed that seemed to be glowing slightly then marched to the other side of the room, opened a cabinet and pulled out two odd looking guns. Before Dick could say much of anything she had vaulted out of the window and taking off down the street.

“Oh dear,” Dick muttered faintly before heading back downstairs. “Hey Cas can we turn on the news, some sort of local station?” He asked. Cas nodded and searched around for the remote, turning it on to find the channel was already on local news.

Vlad was already on there, talking about how it was awful Bruce Wayne had Kidnapped a local child Danial Fenton, and he could not be allowed to get away with this just because he was rich! But that didn’t last long, they watched for a few minutes before a blur of red hair and blue rushed past the camera.

“YOU TOUCHED MY BROTHER YOU CREEP!” Jazz said as she came out swinging and she must have quite the arm because her first swing sent him nearly flying off the stage. He scrambled to get up as she lunged at him again.

“Now Jasmine you’ve clearly been misinformed, I didn’t do anything-“ His muffled voice was cut off as she swung the bat again and he yelped as she hit him in the stomach.

“YOU GOT HIM PREGNANT! YOU DID THIS! YOU SHOULD BEHIND BARS NOT BEHIND A PODIUM YOU FROOTLOOP!” She shrieked as she swung again and this time he managed to dodge. The cameras following them as Jazz chased him down the street, the sound of his supplications and her shrieking fading out as they became more and more distant.

It took a frantic moment for the camera angle to switch to something else, maybe a drone, which was able to follow them down the street.

“You Don’t UNDERSTAND! I didn’t want to hurt him! I just wanted a perfect son! If he had just agreed to be my son none of this would have happened! When I knew it failed I told him to let them die!” Vlad yelled at her, though that did NOT seem to comfort Jazz at all. She had devolved into shrieking book titles like curses as she chased him with the bat and shot at him with the guns though her aim didn’t seem very good.

Well they had him admitting to it on camera now. As he watched a new actor joined the fray, a girl in a red jumpsuit holding a blaster.

“You did what to Danny!?” She demanded as she pointed the blaster at Vlad.

“Oh cheespuffs!” Vlad breathed, his eyes widening as Jazz trailed off letting who must be Red Huntress take over the chase as Vlad shouted about how he had made her! He had given her her weapons she couldn’t use them against him! Which did not seem to be stopping her.

The camera fuzzed out for just a second and then Valery was chasing a ghost with red eyes and a white outfit. Cas was laughing silently at the show and both of the Fenton parents seemed to be in shock. A few minutes later Jazz walked back in through the front door looking tired.

“Turn that off please,” she sighed as she put the bat down.

“Of course,” Cas agreed and picked up the remote again, turning off the tv.

“Vlad didn’t actually do that, did he Jazzy?” Jack asked softly, he sounded so hurt, as if he had any fucking right!

Jazz looked at him blankly. “How many times have we tried to warn you about him? How many times has Danny told you he didn’t feel safe with Vlad? But as usual you couldn’t see past your own desires. I’m going to go see if the trenchcoat guy needs any help getting into your files,” She sighed before vanishing downstairs.

Dick glanced at Cas, and then followed them, she would have no trouble watching the Fentons and staying quiet whereas Dick felt like he was about to explode. Batman joined them before long and between the three of them they shut the bulkheads on the portal and locked them, secured dangerous chemicals and devices, and downloaded everything they could. There were plenty of prototypes and blueprints, and stuff that could generously be called research.

It was obvious these people were geniuses but it was even more obvious that at some point they had become careless and obsessive. Half of the writing on the blueprints wasn’t legible, dangerous chemicals were not in proper containment, and the weapons were not locked up. Looking at all of this it wasn’t surprising that two of the people they had been involving in their research suffered exposure, it was a surprise more hadn’t. It was easy to tell when Bruce came down he was horrified, it was in the way he froze when he saw the lab, as if his brain was struggling to process just how irresponsible the Fenton parents had been.

“You must be Jazz, it’s nice to meet you. Danny speaks highly of you,” He finally rebooted to say when she waved at him.

“I love my little brother, I always did the best I could to keep him safe from… all this,” Jazz said gesturing at the lab with a sigh. “I wish it had done any good.”

“You did plenty of good,” Dick put in. “Trust me, to a kid having someone care about them can make all the difference.

“All those nights I patched him up after he came back from fighting ghosts. He healed fast but still. I can’t believe… he’s already been through so much and we knew Vlad was up to something! Ellie said she was our cousin but she looked just like him, I should have kept a closer eye on-” She cut off and shook her head. “He’s a good kid, of course if he couldn’t give the babies up, even if it would be better for them if he did. I hope he knows I’d support him either way, I hope he didn’t not tell me because he thought I’d be upset at Him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Dick assured her gently. “Being a big sibling is hard, I know. But trust me you’re doing a great job, better than I did with my brothers,” he said, patting her shoulder. “You can ask him yourself later though. We have a lot to get done today to make sure he’s safe.”

She nodded stubbornly and doubled down on her work, directing them occasionally to where she knew they’d find more weapons or logs. She knew her way around the lab to a disturbing extent.

Bruce and Dick both got a notification from Agent A saying that after a substantial sleep in Danny had woken up and was having breakfast. He seemed worried about the family but he was taking it alright, especially since he knew they were busy people. It did motivate Dick to clear things up as soon as they could so that they could get back to Danny though. The last thing he needed was More stress!

They had plenty of evidence of the Fenton parents breaking the law to call the police and have them taken away which gave them all the time they needed to strip the house. They got everything they could and decided to leave Constantine at the house to watch the portal until they could figure out how to shut it down completely without causing any damage. It seemed unstable so they didn’t want to risk it just now, especially without Danny’s input because according to Jazz Danny had made genuine connections in the Infinite Realms.

They wrapped up this stage of the investigation before dinner after being up for about 36 hours. Of course they weren’t Done, there was still plenty to do investigating the government, how they’d gotten away with this and if they had any other nasty tricks up their sleeve. They’d have to manage any backlash from this unilateral move, and they’d have to figure out what to tell the public about Danny since Bruce would be fostering him. But all that could be done after having a family dinner with their new brother and a nap.

part 5

@blacksea21090 @zline @sebas-nights @littlefeather345 @isnt-that-grape @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @shadowkatt99 @fantasticstoryteller @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @iamalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @genius11rare @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @vivavelle @phoenixdemonqueen @jaggedheart11 @amyheart19 @ashenfairytale @thedragonqueen1998 @quotesandanime @j-joshi @unknown707 @baby-glowstick @okami-love @felicityroth @blackroserelina @wanderwithwings @shephardking @stargirl1331 @supermcraig @tkiesai @thegatorsgoose @mushroomymoss @llavalada @drownthesun @theraccoonempire @ark12 @telidina @dasha022

Please subscribe to the masterpost everyone! the tag list is getting a bit to big for me to manage ^^;

1K notes · View notes

spoonietimelordy · 3 months

Text

Final opinion about the SA allegations:

even if you take Neil's point of view of the events, which is the one that is corroborated by their WhatsApp messages, the situation is still fucked up in the sense that you cannot have sexual relationships with someone who is both your employee and stuck alone with you at your house. If someone cannot say no safely, them saying they consented on the moment doesn't really matter. The situation was fucked up and he should take his responsibilities.

#charlie is rambling #tw sa #neil gaiman #i dont want to hear the opinion of anyone who hasn't actually listened to this podcast #it's bad but like at least you get to hear what people actually say happened

133 notes · View notes

shey-pancake · 8 months

Text

TW: S/A topics ⚠️

so, I wanted to make a self-insert oc as this is my new comfort story, and that I feel represented, I had to !! I did two versions, a normal one and a "at work" one

meet: Yellow 💛

he is a friend of blue, and has also suffered from S/A.

Victaton has already clarified that blue is the only one man in the company, but this is just a silly self insert of mine for my own comfort, so it doesn't matter, both mutually support each other <3

#art #tw: sa #blue #gacha #gacha art #gacha community #gacha series #blue story #gacha oc #gacha life 2 #gacha edit #see that purple mark?#it isn't there for nothing #notice the size difference #I am very short irl so my self insert also is #the reason of why it isn't purple is because in the story purple in designs represents that the person is bad #and you can easily tell by their look #ye #will do thingys with yellow as a way to vent and cope

368 notes · View notes

wen-kexing-apologist · 1 year

Note

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance? What makes them better? I did not mean anything negative, and I know everyone have their own like and dislike but I want to know your thoughts....

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/tv series/movies) romances better than western MLM romances?

Hello! Yes you are more than welcome to ask :) I truly, truly love getting asks in my inbox and have been having so much fun with the fact I’ve actually been getting some recently! Warning this is long (but i have TL;DRs for everything)

___

I think the fastest answer for me is that I am queer, and therefore I find I have a lot more enjoyment and interest in watching queer stories compared to heterosexual ones.

Also, I find a lot of heterosexual romances to be steeped in misogyny, and have low-key or high-key abusive dynamics. And again, do not get me wrong, there are plenty of queer shows where there are abusive dynamics in play, but it is much harder for misogyny to be committed between two men than it is for misogyny to be placed on a male/female pairing. (I love GLs cause, you know…women, but there are a lot more complex dynamics going in to stories written about two women and those can get much trickier for me, and unfortunately many narratives love punishing lesbains with death so.... Anyway, I’m trying to stick mostly to BLs since that is primarily what this ask is about.)

Additionally, I love BLs more than heterosexual romances because of how BLs treat men. Men in heterosexual romances, especially in the West are extremely masculine, often unable to be in touch with their emotions, jaded, misogynistic, they have to be extremely muscular, and we almost never see femme boys or men.

BLs have such a vast range of men, they have twinks, they have femmes, they have gym bros. They have the clowns, and the super masculine boys. There are shows that let boys be boys, be stupid, and stinky, and fucking gross (hey Pat from Bad Buddy), they let boys be angry and aggressive and express their emotions that way (Sean and Yok’s fight in Not Me, Han Baram and Im Hantae’s conversation in the boxing ring in Sing My Crush, Lom and Nuea in The Wedding Plan, Patts in La Pluie), they let boys fight and wrestle and play (Bad Buddy, My School President, Moonlight Chicken, Only Friends). I love queer stories that let men be gay and ensure through the story that that never undermines their masculinity. I love that there are shows that focus on the progress older men can make in their relationships (What Did You Eat Yesterday?) THEY ARE ALSO ALLOWED TO CRY!!!!

And though it is still kind of rare, Asian BLs actually do have femme boys, and while I am sure femme boys exist in Western shows, I think Pose and fucking Glee are like…the only two shows with queer people that I have seen in the last decade that have an femme boy representation at all. On the flip side, I love how often GMMTV puts their boys in drag and that doesn’t even have to be in a queer show. I also generally love the fact that most of the male actors in Asian BLs, and again, especially in Thailand embrace their femme sides in photoshoots and whatnot, that they wear earrings, and jewelry, and makeup and they look hot as fuck, because it helps me with my own gender identity. I feel and see myself much more masculine (and have less dysphoria) when I have an earring or a necklace or makeup on, now that I have seen so many boys do the same.

TL;DR: I am queer, and heterosexual romances are frequently misogynistic, and men are extremely masculine and rarely allowed to be soft. Asian BLs give us a very broad range of masculinity, but often let boys be boys while also kissing boys. And actors embracing their femme sides helps me feel more masculine when I lean in to my femme side.

___

As for Asian MLM romances compared to Western MLM romances, obviously this is not a cut and dry thing, not all Asian BLs are going to be better than Western BLs but I find I have a tendency to enjoy Asian BLs/queer media more for a few reasons, generally in order of most to least important for me:

Reason One- Family

This may seem somewhat surprising because the first, and honestly biggest reason I tend to like Asian BLs more than Western BLs has much less to do with the queer aspect. It's actually the family dynamics. I think Western media very frequently has a tendency to be very binary in their portrayal of family dynamics, if family is at all included in Western narratives the relationships that characters have to their family is either almost wholly good, or almost wholly bad. You either have a very abusive household that a character is trying to avoid or flee, or you have a traditional, happy, nuclear family, and when characters have a strained relationship to their family, I have noticed a lot more narrative support for leaving that family behind. But for the most part, family does not play a huge role in most Western shows (and, wild concept to me, it’s part of why I think shows like Succession are so successful, because that is all about complex, fucked up, and loving relationships within a family).

Whereas, in Asian media, far more frequently family and family dynamics play a huge role in the character’s lives, behaviors, and can influence the story. And because filial piety is such an important aspect to many Asian cultures, you get a lot more interesting parent/child relationships out of Asian media than you do with Western content. And I am a white Westerner, but I am fundamentally, culturally a Southerner and despite no longer being a woman, I will never shed the mantle of Eldest Daughter. And that has resulted in a sense of family responsibility and piety that ends up making it very very easy for me to understand the motivations of the characters that remain loyal to their family even when their family is asking for things from them that run counter to their own desires or happiness (I’ve actually had this conversation a lot with @waitmyturtles about the intersections of Southern culture and Asian culture).

And similarly, I find that a lot of Western media with queer characters at least in the time frame that I have been able to find content with queer characters is either wholly homophobic, or wholly accepting. And do not get me wrong, we get family dynamics like that in Asian BLs too, but we also get parents who are upset about their child’s queerness, and will voice that, and yet who still take care of their children. I’m thinking of the film I watched just the other day called Margarita with a Straw where the main character’s mother can barely look or talk to her daughter when she comes out, but because she is disabled, her mother is still there preparing food for her, bathing her, etc. because even if she is upset about her child’s queerness she can’t stop taking care of her. And those aren’t dynamics I often see in Western media.

I don’t see relationships like Sawismol and Wang in Western media, where a mother can look at her child and say, out loud that she is disappointed, and to be upset, and to still, despite everything, be the person that her son goes to for comfort when he is absolutely devastated, and I don’t see Western parents sitting there and performing that comfort even when they are disappointed in their children’s queerness.

TL;DR: Family dynamics feel a lot more built out, realistic, and complex in many Asian BLs/media that I’ve seen, than they do in many Western shows. Until I started watching Asian media, I had not seen the dynamics I have with my mother or my father played out on screen.

Reason Two- Casual Trans Inclusion

And, as a trans person myself, part of what makes Asian BL shows, Thai shows much more specifically, so important, interesting, and influential to me when compared to Western BLs is the casual inclusion of trans people. Like, that is just something Western media is barely ready for. It’s not non-existent. We have and have had shows like The Fosters, Sense8, Pose, The Owl House, and Heartstopper that have some trans rep. But a lot of those shows have a hefty component to them that shows the struggles of being trans.

In The Fosters we have to watch Cole nearly die trying to get his hands on testosterone, in Sense8 we have to watch Nomi be kept as a medical prisoner and stripped of her autonomy and almost lobotomized, in Pose we are constantly exposed to the very real dangers that trans women of color experience including murder, in Heartstopper we are spared from having to witness the transphobia Elle went through, but it is mentioned. I think the only one of these shows that doesn’t have some element of struggle because a character is trans is The Owl House and let us not forget that Raine Whispers goes through fucking hell in that show. And these conversations, and the demonstrations of struggle to just survive and thrive despite that is vitally important in a society that is pushing closer and closer towards genocide against trans people. Stories that show the struggles of trans people exist for the sake of realism but also serve as an attempt to try to garner empathy towards trans people by cisgender viewers.

Thailand does have stories where a trans character experiences transphobia (3 Will Be Free, The Warp Effect, Secret Crush on You), but they also have so many stories where trans people are literally just vibing. Do you know how revolutionary it was for me when I watched KinnPorsche and saw Yok, and she was happy, and beautiful, and fun, and her entire plot centered around her running that bar, flirting with boys, and playing surrogate mother to Porsche? Or just to see trans women existing, who aren’t even central to the plot, but are just there? (Payu’s secretary at the auto shop is a trans woman, Golf Tanwarin was at the inclusive cafe in The Eclipse, Golf Kittipat had an illustrious career as a music producer in My School President). Like that shit is SO important to me, and I never, never see it in Western media.

TL;DR: There are many Thai shows especially where trans people just exist, and they have plots that aren’t always centered around them being trans. Which is revolutionary, coming in as a trans Western viewer where the majority of trans rep in Western shows makes me eventually have to watch trans people suffer.

Reason Three- Passion Projects

The film industry is huge and pervasive in Western culture, and in the US especially, and with that comes big budget projects that stretch out as long as they can squeeze a cent out of a fan base. As a result you get shows that are too long, you get shows that ruin their premise in the last season after five to fifteen years of dragging the shambling corpse of a story along. And again, do not get me wrong, there are plenty plenty of Asian BLs that are cash grabs, that are terrible, where the actors aren’t really in it. But, most BLs in Asia are one season, they get in, they get out, and you forget it if it’s bad, or you hate it forever if it’s objectively bigoted. But the time commitment to terrible pieces is a lot shorter.

That said, when you have a low budget, and a story you want to tell, it makes my love so much more. Because it means the crew, the writers, the director, and often time the actors are there because they want to be there, because they like the story they are telling, because they have a story they want to tell. It’s part of why I love shows like The Eclipse so much, because that show was made with a budget mainly comprised of pocket lint and hope, because Golf Tanwarin had something they wanted to say. Most if not all of Aof Nopparnach’s shows give genuinely, inherently queer stories that speak to queer people. Jojo Tichakorn makes pieces that are so full of queer lenses you could never deny the inherent queerness in his shows, even if the story is primarily focused on a straight person/relationship (Mama Gogo). There are so many shows in the Asian BL world where you can just tell that everyone is having fun. LIsten, Fish Upon the Sky is an extremely problematic show, but for me it felt like everyone had a great time goofing off on that set. You can tell EV-ER-Y-BOD-Y in the cast of Mama Gogo was having the time of their motherfucking lives.

I also think the West is very self-congratulatory and tends to hold themselves as the standard of televisions and acting, when I am over here watching Asian BLs with some of the strongest acting from young people I have ever seen, and having it be written off because its a) low budget b) gay and c) in another language. Like, when I try to get people in to BL I start with shows like KinnPorsche (which I know drives @bnegiyo mad) cause it has a much higher production value than many other Asian BLs without being prestige and therefore can’t radically alter the perception of what BL is (hello ITSAY/IPYTM and 180 Degrees), Thai BLs especially. And I figure that is the only way to show someone the level of absurdity and camp that comes from a lot of BLs, while also maintaining their interest because it has a higher production value, so that if they end up enjoying that they are more willing to watch the low budget shows.

TL;DR: Many Asian BLs are pretty low budget, compared to like any Western show, which I find to mean we have more stories in Asian BL that people actually want to tell. (there are still very many shows that people seem to just kinda show up for, or get bored with partway through [looking at you Tee] but.)

Reason Four- Abundance

There are

Many

Asian

BLs

Here's a fraction of my watch list

I have watched 81 in roughly the last year, and there are so many more on my Plan to Watch list, and there are more coming out all the time. The West has given me like…two, maybe three. And when we do get good queer shows in the West, they are frequently canceled before completion. Especially if they are on Netflix.

We lost Sense8, fans had to fight for Out Flag Means Death to get renewed, The Owl House got cancelled by Disney after giving their main character a girlfriend, ND Stevenson had to write two ending to She-Ra and fought tooth and fucking nail to get the gay one, Legend of Korra had to save the gay kiss until the end just like She-Ra had to. If you want to get depressed here is a link to an article ‘50 TV shows with Lesbian, Bisexual, and Queer characters cancelled after one season’. Because most Asian BLs are meant to be only one season, we actually get complete stories, rather than ending with unresolved tension, or cliffhangers.

TL;DR: there is a metric fuck ton of Asian BLs

Reason Five- Sex

The West, especially the US, tends to have a very puritanical view of sex (which makes sense because the Puritans were some of the first colonizers…I mean colonials…to murder everyone and occupy…uh, I mean settle the United States (I would also like to place blame on the Italians and Spanish [hey Columbus] and their Catholicism AND PROTESTANT CALVINISM that also influenced the pervasive societal views of sex and especially gay sex in the United States).

With ever increasing homophobia and transphobia, so many shows are trying, in my own personal opinion, to garner empathy, sympathy, and acceptance for queer characters by cisgender and/or heterosexual viewers by making their queer characters flat, two-dimensional, virginal, perfect people. But homophobes and transphobes consider holding hands to be just as grotesque and inappropriate as full on porn. With Western, and especially US based, views of sex, many queer characters are sanitized, sex scenes are rare, and if they do exist at all they are usually in shows that have mature ratings.

That is not the case with Asian BLs. Like, do not get me wrong, there are plenty of pure, virginal, don’t kiss, barely touch BLs out there, but because there are so many BLs, there are also plenty of shows with lots of physical intimacy and multiple make out scenes that aren’t maturely rated, as well as plenty of maturely rated shows that have multiple sex scenes AND CAN INCLUDE KINK WHICH LIKE!!!!! I rarely see in the Western media I’ve watched. Hell, Sense8 is a sexual liberation show that includes multiple orgies, but there is not even a hint of any other kink (besides whatever Dani, Lito, and Hernando have going on).

gif by @radishayuan

Meanwhile, The Warp Effect has fucking puppy play, Bed Friend has pet play, Laws of Attraction which has a couple pretty chaste kisses shows handcuffs to at least imply kink, there’s a ball gag and a fucking leash in Big Dragon, I haven’t seen it but Unforgotten Night has a lot of BDSM themes in it, Rain and Payu have a dom/sub dynamic going on, we have daddy kinks abound, I also haven’t seen this one but I know there is some belt bondage in War of Y. And even if it isn’t shown, kink and bondage specifically are often referenced in passing in shows with sex.

Also, there are very very very few Western shows I have seen that treat sex workers kindly, and Jojo Tichakorn is right there giving us sex workers as main characters multiple times in a row. Taiwan has great physical chemistry, the very few things I have seen from the Phillipines are so fucking queer, Japan even when they aren’t including sex at all have some extremely queer narratives, and when they are including sex? Holy fuck. South Korea is developing, but I have liked what I’ve seen so far, and it’s been fun seeing very rapid progressions in the level of physical intimacy characters are allowed to have, Thailand has been making a name for itself.

TL;DR: There is a very broad range of physical intimacy in Asian BLs from no sex to lots of sex, but the abundance of content means I am seeing more shows with gay sex in them in like…a month or two, than shows I have seen in the West with gay characters at all in like…the past year. (This is of course, subjective, don’t ask me for real numbers).

And, you know, in case this response wasn’t long enough, the amount of queer content, the types of stories being told, the rapid and continued development of BL is super interesting to observe in its own right. Sure, it may be driven by marketability and sales, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some truly important, realistic, vital, and beautiful pieces of queer media being created and shared with the world, a lot of which is much more accessible to audiences than Western media. I go heavy on the Thai shows in part because they are available for free on YouTube.

I also think the West seems to think that having gay marriage is the be all, end all of queer inclusivity, and that they do not realize that countries without gay marriage are creating some of the most realistic queer content out there right now. The West has a lot it can learn from Asian BLs, but in my opinion, we’ve got our heads too far up our asses to be following their lead.

455 notes · View notes