#sad lesbian artist draws sad couple

[metalichotchoco]

Fishbride my doomed yuri pair even just thinking about the fact that the bride is immortal whereas Nina is an altered human

I’m so sad I just finished this piece right before the finale came out, it’s bittersweet in a way but there’s a lot of turns the next season could bring

[musicalmoritz]

follow up on the last family dynamics what about Meinene, Aoimei and hananene?

Ask and you shall receive

Meinene

• The poster children for old married artsy lesbian moms

• I think they’d have a big family with like 4-5 kids. I could see them being the type of couple to foster too

• They both compete for the status of “Fun Mom” but Mei is winning. She encourages her kids’ creativity by hanging all their drawings on the fridge, no matter how incomprehensible they are. She introduced them to old music artists and enrolls them in a ton of art and sports programs. Some of them don’t really click with anything in particular but most of their kids be up developing a lot of hobbies through her encouragement

• Nene keeps up with Mei by being equally encouraging, she attends every game/recital/show/etc. her kids have. Her strong suits show more with their emotional needs though, she knows exactly how to cheer them up when they’re down. And she adjusts it to fit the needs of each kid, she knows they can’t all be comforted the same way. Contrary to popular belief I think Nene has a decent mom so she has a good example when it comes to parenting

• You better believe they bring signs and become full on cheerleaders at all their kids’ sports games

• They have a very fun home life and close family dynamic. Not close in a suffocating way, they all kinda do their own thing but they’re their to support each other every step of the way

Aoimei

• The type of moms to complain to the school when their kids aren’t immediately placed in the gifted program

• I think they would have two daughters. Family of four and it’s all girls, that sounds like the plot of a really emotional comedy movie

• Aoi would still be strict but Mei would help balance her out. She learns to relax more and veers more into overprotective territory. She’s the one who gives all the lectures but Mei makes funny faces at the girls when she’s trying to be serious which makes Aoi break character and laugh. They have a big garden because keeping flowers in the house upsets Mei’s allergies. You better believe Aoi has the outside of their house looking beautiful tho (I loooove the hc that Aoi runs a flower shop in the future)

• Mei is still the fun mom, but Aoi helps her learn when to be serious. She attempts to lecture the girls but if they look too sad or nervous it will make her cry. Then they end up frantically apologizing to each other. She’s an artist and the inside of their house is full of her work (Aoi decorates the outside, Mei decorates the inside). She’s the type of wife and mother to surprise Aoi and the girls with gifts frequently. And she makes sure the girls stay in good health

• Aoi and Mei have both physically fought people to defend their girls and they will do it again

• Very warm family dynamic, things can get a little tense with Aoi’s stern attitude but overall it’s very lovely. They frequently bond over movie/tv show binges and trips to the park (the sunlight it good for Mei’s health as long as she doesn’t overexert herself)

HanaNene

• In another life…haha…🥲

• They have twins!! A boy and a girl!! • Nene is a successful writer so she works a lot from home. She’s often busy with work tho so there are periods where her kids don’t see her as much, but she still tries to make time for them. Her outgoing personality really shines through as she gets older so she’s sort of the leader in their family…I don’t wanna say girlboss x malewife but that’s the vibe I’m getting. The kids admire her sm and she likes to take them on bonding days to catch up on them if she’s been busy for too long. Her flexible schedule allows her to play housewife sometimes tho so when the kids are younger and before her career really takes off, she sees them way more

• Amane becomes a science teacher (duh). I see the kids as being more reserved like him so he has a bit of a closer bond with them, he’s the one they go to with their emotional needs. That doesn’t mean he’s the favorite parent tho, he’s just able to relate to them a bit more. When they get older they inevitably have him as a teacher and that’s super embarrassing (but ik one of those little losers is excited to see their dad at school every day). He’s not really overprotective but he does keep a first aid kit nearby incase one of the kids gets hurt

• One of the twins is a bit more similar to Amane and the other is more like Tsukasa, just way toned down (think of the Pines family from Gravity Falls)

• They aren’t the most conventional family but they’re extremely happy. Nene invites their friends over a lot so the twins grow up with a safe found family group. And yes, Tsukasa babysits a lot. If he loses one of the kids for an hour or so, Nene and Amane never have to find out

[apoptoses]

Would you ever write genderbent devil’s minion?

gosh this is a complicated topic for me.

So despite being a lesbian myself, I interact with very very little lesbian/wlw media.

I'm at the masc/butch end of the spectrum and I just don't see myself represented in like 95% of wlw media. It's all femme4femme, or at best contains a 'woman with a haircut between a pixie and a bob, who still wears copious amounts of makeup but wears jeans from the mens section'. Or there's a butch character but she's treated as the butt of jokes. Hell even in art I can rarely find a woman like me. I unfollowed a really popular queer artist because they would draw literally every type of queer person/couple or throuple except for a masc/butch woman.

And I rarely interact with gender swap aus or art because like...it often seems to hinge on heteronormative ideals of femininity (and sometimes even feels fetishizing but that's a whole other rant). Long hair and lipstick and heels and skirts. I've yet to see a gender swap that includes a character whose identity is woman, but whose identity also hinges on being a butch/masc/stud. Seeing endless femme4femme stuff ends up making me feel sad.

I can't divorce my perspective from any piece of wlw media I would ever create, and it just seems like my type of perspective isn't wanted.

And like normally I'm all about creating the content I desire to see but it's almost too vulnerable a thing for me. I have enough trouble getting people irl to respect my identity and not thrust socially acceptable feminine things upon me, trying to do it via the medium of fic? Idk, if the piece wasn't appreciated I would feel so crushed.

Which is a shame because I can think of angles to work from that are interesting to me. But I just don't think it's what anyone is looking for when they ask for gender swap!

[cerosin-bis]

You know, i'd hope she's a queer character(Ana), we need more of them present in the game. We had a couple of them back in mw19 so it wouldn't surprise me if she factors in here aswell. I think it would fit well with her characteristic. Also they should bring more medic operators to the roster, i like when each special forces group have one of them, as they can be cruical.

Also, in the future, esp when mwiii comes out (altho im skeptical abt it) will you talk more about GhostSoap? I really enjoyed your headcanons on them and intentional or not, they have chemistry plus it fuels more knowing that their VAs are supportive of it :3 <3

Yes it would be cool. I liked how it was mentioned in mw19 for some ops, mentioned in their bio/canon yet subtle. MWII gave us lesbian so far Laswell so I have hopes 🫡

I agree we need more medic characters. You know. Like mw19 Rodion. bring him back please please please please. please nikodim we miss you

And thank you sm for mentioning you liked my Ghost/Soap things. I would like to talk more about ghoap (:D) because frankly it makes me mega sad that I have like. both an artist's block and FOMO at the same time. Been waiting for this hype for over 10 years and now that it's everywhere I find myself too shy to talk about my hcs or even draw them. I don't exactly know why but it certainly feels like I'm missing an incredible opportunity :( Though I'm super glad so many talented artists and writers are taking ahold of this ship now!!

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 5/6

chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

warnings: swearing

word count: 2,757

notes: okay so this update took a while because I’ve been busy with school and writers block has been kicking my ass, but I think it’s worth it :)))

---

It was established in August that at least once a month, Alex will receive a phone call informing him to be at Julie’s house in ten minutes for a mandatory slumber party. It’s endearing sure, but he would like some sort of warning other than Luke calling him and saying that if he doesn’t show up as soon as possible, he’ll paint his drumsticks neon green. So that’s how Alex ends up sitting cross legged on Julie’s bed, putting Reggie’s hair into a bunch of tiny braids and watching The Princess Diaries for what’s probably the hundredth time. 

“Lilly is definitely a lesbian,” Flynn says through a mouthful of popcorn. 

Alex hums in agreement and Julie nods. “If only this movie weren’t made in 2001,” Julie says mournfully.

“Y’know I always thought that Joe was gay,” Alex admits. “Up until he dances with the queen.”

Reggie attempts to look up at Alex, earning an offended squeak from the latter. “Really?”

“Yes, now will you please stay still, I only have one more left.”

“Ok but there is no way Mia’s mom is straight!” Flynn says.

Julie seems to mull it over for a bit. “She does live in an old fire station. And artists are never straight.”

“Yea, like Willie!” Luke pipes up, sitting up from his position hanging halfway off the bed. “Willie’s not straight.”

“We should start a betting pool on how long it takes for Luke to bring up Willie,” Alex mumbles, his cheeks flushing pink. He ties off Reggie’s final braid and pats his head approvingly. “You look like a real princess.”

“Do I?” Reggie grins up at him with a bit of a twinkle in his eye and Alex chuckles. 

“No subject changing,” Luke protests. “How’s Willie doing?”

“Still a pining idiot,” Flynn answers with a cheeky smile. 

“I’m trying to watch the movie.” Alex shoves at Luke’s face and slides down off the bed to sit on the floor beside Reggie. 

“You’ve seen this movie a million times,” Luke points out. He leans down so his head is hanging off the edge of the bed and smirks mischievously at Alex, who is pointedly refusing to look at him. “Aleeeex,” Luke whines. “Don’t be a buzzkill.”

“Alice, please,” Flynn says. Alex shoots her a look seeping with betrayal and Flynn raises their hands defensively. “I haven’t seen Carrie in a few days!” They protest. “I need drama.”

“Drama?” Alex asks. “Or blackmail material?”

Flynn shrugs, which only serves to cement what Alex was thinking. “Yea, nope. It’s not like anything has even happened since-” He cuts himself off, realizing his mistake and preparing for the onslaught of questions. 

“Since!?” Luke cries. “Since what?!” He grabs Alex’s face roughly and looks at him with wide eyes. “Since what, Alex?”

“Nothing!” Alex squeaks, wrenching himself from Luke’s grasp. “Nothing! It was- let go of my fanny pack! Julie stop filming!!!” Alex swats at Luke’s hands and attempts to leap forward to grab Julie’s phone, but ultimately fails. 

“I’ll let go if you tell me,” Luke teases in a sing song voice, his grin only growing the more Alex fights. 

“Fine! If you just- sorry Reg the puppy-dog eyes only work on Luke and Bobby.” Reggie sighs in disappointment and Alex finally manages to get Luke off of him, huffing angrily and brushing nonexistent dust from his hoodie. “You’re a barbarian,” he mutters.

“Well?” 

Alex responds to Julie’s prompting with a long-suffering sigh. “You have to promise not to make fun of me,” he says. They don’t promise. The movie is long forgotten as Alex’s friends gather around him, looking all too fascinated by his latest embarrassment. “He well… don’t laugh, ok. He wore a crop top last week and I tripped on my own feet and scraped up my knees.”

Flynn raises an eyebrow. “Nuh uh, there’s more, spill.”

Alex groans, burying his face in his hands. “They got all worried and started putting bandaids on my knees and I almost fainted. Then- please don’t make me say this,” Alex pleads, looking to Julie as if she’s his last hope. She shakes her head. “When they finished lecturing me I just looked at him and said ‘nice shirt’ and ran off. Nice shirt??? What is wrong with me?”

“Wait a minute,” Julie says, gesturing for Alex to pause. “You just… ran off? Where?”

Alex doesn’t say anything. 

“I’ll paint your drumsticks if you don’t tell us,” Luke threatens. The difficulty is that Alex doesn’t doubt him one bit, and knows that Julie has a healthy supply of paint in a drawer just a few feet away from Luke. 

Alex mumbles something under his breath and Reggie pokes him. 

“Sorry what was that? Speak up.”

“Orange, I’ll paint them the ugliest shade of orange ever.”

“I went and hid in my closet!” Alex blurts. “For like an hour. I am never going to live that down.”

“That’s… incredibly ironic,” Julie laughs. 

“I’m telling that story at your wedding.”

“Reginald, don’t even think about it!” Alex kicks Reggie lightly and raises his hand to flip off the other three, who are all dying of laughter. “I hate all of you. I need new friends.”

“Good luck with that.” Flynn pats Alex’s head; he can practically hear their stupid smirk. 

“Fuck off.”

“No.”

---

Alex wakes up with his foot in Luke’s face, one arm thrown over Julie, his face in Reggie’s neck, and a very giggly Flynn perched on the end of the bed taking pictures. He sits up and murmurs sleepily, squinting in the oddly hazy room.

It’s gray and gloomy outside, quite fitting for mid-November, but far from Alex’s ideal weather. He’s always been partial to spring, when it’s not too hot and not too cold and not always cloudy and sad. 

Flynn hops off the bed and onto Julie’s chair, where she spins a couple times before turning her phone to show Alex. “This is gonna be my new lockscreen,” they giggle. Alex stares at the photo, baffled as to how his arm was bent like that. 

Breakfast is heaps of pancakes and fresh coffee (bless you, Ray) that for a moment, Alex considers just dumping over his head. Julie is curled around Luke for warmth throughout the whole morning and Flynn makes a point to gag at least once every 5 minutes. Alex knows she’s happy for them though, they finally got their act together a little over a week ago and at least this is better than the pining. Alex doesn’t say that though, because it will only get him a lecture on how he is not one to talk about pining. 

Alex almost thanks a god he doesn’t believe in anymore when the rain outside doesn’t seem to make any moves into thunderstorm territory. Willie hates thunderstorms. He stays cocooned in a blanket until noon, but eventually Tía Victoria shoos them all out, claiming that Julie will never finish her homework with them all glued to her. 

Alex is sopping wet when he finally arrives at his dorm, sadly no car can go right up to the entrance of the dorms. The first thing Alex notices when he walks in is the candles, and the second thing is the haphazardly thrown together fort in the middle of the room, which he narrowly avoids tripping over. “Willie?” He asks, lifting what he assumes to be the entrance and raising an eyebrow at Willie, who is grinning at him and shining a flashlight in his face.

“Ok, get that out of my eyes.” Alex clamps a hand over the light and Willie sticks his tongue out. “Did the power go out?” Alex asks, worry etching over his face. He can’t have all their food being ruined, with Alex living off his coffee shop job and Willie off of the occasional commission and odd check from his eccentric uncle. 

Willie shakes their head. “Nope.”

“So why the… candles?”

“It’s fun!” Willie pulls Alex into the fort, stumbling back and just barely evading them toppling over each other into a quite compromising position. Willie presses his back against the couch and pats the space next to him. “It’s like you’re a little kid again.”

“Luke used to love making forts,” Alex admits. “We would move all the furniture in his living room and make the absolute worst blanket forts you can imagine. Like seriously, it’s no wonder none of us went into architecture.”

“Really? I can totally see you as an architect”

“That’s…”

“I’m joking, hotdog,” Willie giggles, bumping their shoulder together. He has a tendency to raise his eyebrows when he’s amused; Alex finds it all too endearing. Accompanied with the way their eyes crinkle when the laugh and the soft candlelight leaking through the thin blankets and draping over his features, Alex thinks he’s having trouble breathing. 

“I was drawing you, y’know,” Willie says softly after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?”

“The day we went stargazing, I was drawing you. You’re- you’re a good muse.”

“Oh.” Alex’s stomach flutters. “I uh… thank you.” He gives Willie a hesitant smile before turning to focus on the flickering light. His breath feels weighted, like every exhale means something, but he can’t quite pinpoint what. There’s a light breeze whistling through the crack in the door and Alex closes his eyes for a moment, pretending that it’s wrapping around him and holding him close. Alex didn’t get much affection as a child; his parents had always been very stiff. Sure, they loved him, but they weren’t that good at showing it aside from a rough shoulder squeeze and tight smiles so full of expectations. When he came out, even the snippets of affection faded; no more of his mother fixing his hair or giving him a quick kiss on the forehead when he was sick. Two months after his coming out, they just… kicked him out. He came home to find his belongings shoved carelessly into a trash bag or two and that was that. Luke more than made up for the lack of physical affection, but Alex knows that there will always be something missing. 

Wide awake, Alex lets his head fall onto Willie’s shoulder. This time with care and attention, hesitancy. He hears Willie suck in a sharp breath but then the tension melts from their shoulders and fizzles into nothingness. For a moment, there is nothing but them and the pattering of rain against the windows. 

“Lets go for a drive.”

Alex looks up expecting Willie’s usual carefree and impish grin, but he’s taken aback by his wistful expression and something bursts in Alex’s chest. Something that may be instinct and may be just an overwhelming surge of emotion.

“Okay.” His voice is barely a whisper, a single wisp of smoke snaking from a blown out candle.

The air is damp and the rain is coming down hard; Alex reaches a cautious hand out beyond the awning and winces at the downpour. But Willie is wiggling his stupid eyebrows in the way that makes Alex’s face heat and he can’t say no as Willie drags him through the wet grass, shrieking with laughter and going slower than necessary to relish in the water pouring down from the sky in torrents. They’re soaked to the bone and breathless, overflowing with mirth, by the time they reach Alex’s car and clamber into the seats. Right after a brief argument about who’s driving of course. (“You will not be touching my steering wheel with your grimy paint hands, William.” “Says you.”) So Alex is driving. 

Willie has their hands pressed to the window, breath fogging up the glass and sending them into a fit of giggles every time. Alex switches on the radio and there’s a song playing that he recognizes but couldn’t sing along to; something soft and low, like lilting waves. Willie knows it though. And they’re singing. Oh. They’re singing. Alex almost has to pull the car to a stop and put his head in his hands because Willie never told him he could sing.

Willie’s voice is low and slightly raspy, but not in a bad way. Alex knows he’s heard this song before, but he’s 100% certain that this is his first time really hearing it. And it’s beautiful. Or maybe it’s just Willie. It’s probably just Willie. 

Alex brings the car to a slow stop in the parking lot of an odd gas station that always seems to be closed. He doesn’t turn it off though, because he would rather die than have Willie stop singing. He leans his head back and breathes, certain he’s inhaling Willie’s voice. Willie’s voice which is like sparks on his skin, like smoke that crowds his lungs and opens his soul for the very first time. He feels a sense of mourning when the song stops and something else comes on, something peppier and sickeningly sweet. He switches the radio off. 

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Alex isn’t even looking at them; he’s fiddling nervously with the strap of his fanny pack.

Willie smirks proudly. “You learn something new every day.”

“Yea.”

Willie traces a heart in the fog on the window and lets it sit there. Then he unbuckles his seat belt and pokes Alex’s shoulder. “Hey ‘Lex, come on.”

“No.” Alex shakes his head vigorously. “No. We’re already soaking wet and-”

“Hot dog.”

And damn it, the nickname may be so incredibly stupid but Alex has such a weird soft spot for it. He groans dramatically, making a point to wring out his hair, which is already mostly dry at this point. “You’re the worst. What if it starts thundering?” 

Willie shrugs. “I have my noise cancelling headphones. And you can-” they cut themself off. 

“I can what?”

“Nothing,” Willie squeaks. “Please. Please.”

So Alex climbs reluctantly from the car and stands in the parking lot looking far from amused. “You owe me.”

Willie laughs loudly, grabbing both of Alex’s hands and spinning him in an aimless circle, pulling them both into a dance  to music that’s only in his head. They twirl Alex around several times, and Alex is certain that he’s going to actually fall over and faint. Willie raises his face to the sky and squints, letting the rain soak him without care. Alex is in awe and how open and free Willie is, like nothing can ever go wrong and if it does they’ll always be flying. He doesn’t realized they’ve stopped dancing until Willie turns to him with a curious expression. Their eyes rake over his face and Alex realizes he’s staring. But for once, he doesn’t look away. And for the first time, he sees the corner of Willie’s mouth quirk up and their eyes flick to his lips and even linger there for a brief second. 

The rain doesn’t seem to have plans to stop anytime soon, and they’re both shivering and wet and Willie’s hair is dangling in front of his face. Alex reaches out and tucks it behind his ear, both of them holding a breath, waiting. It’s right there, right in front of him, and Alex is inches from just grasping it and clutching it to his chest. Willie takes a step forward so their faces are just inches from each other and Alex can feel their breath against his cheeks. He exhales shakily and raises one hand to cup Willie’s cheek, his touch feather light and afraid. Willie leans into the contact and grins upwards, their nose wrinkling fondly. He gives a silent nod and for the first time in years, Alex takes the plunge. 

Their first kiss is soft and slow and Willie tastes like rain and green tea. Alex smiles against their lips, a breathy laugh escaping his own. He’d think this is a dream, but no section of his imagination could conjure something even a fragment as magical as this. They’re in the middle of a parking lot, cold and wet, and yet Alex feels the warmest he ever has. Alex is hesitant to pull away, but he does, just barely. Their foreheads stay resting against each other, like breaking apart would break them. Then it comes crashing into him. Alex just kissed Willie. He just kissed Willie. And Willie kissed him back! Holy shit!

“Wowza.” Wowza? What the fuck Alex? 

Willie breaks into joyous laughter, throwing his head back and clutching Alex’s shoulders. And Alex laughs with him; he buries his face in the crook of Willie’s neck, his heart full to bursting. Wowza indeed.

---

notes: ...I did say I was thinking about a Willex rain kiss. I actually wrote like half of chapter 6 a while ago so I might be able to post it tomorrow. 

chapter 6

taglist:  @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby @over-under-through1 @willex-n-waffles @caliibee @stars-soph @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @nickalicious @andwhenwepart @maizsnex @fanofthepod @heademptynothoughts @thunderstorm-symphony @julieandthephantomsandme @i-spit-on-fire

[f33itan]

First off, congrats on hitting a 100+ followers! An awesome milestone to hit for sure 💕

For your event, I would like to request event 1 if that's okay? I'm a bisexual cis woman. Personality wise I'm pretty reserved and polite with strangers but when I warm up to people I'm a bit more rowdy and teasing. I'm shy about showing affection physically like hugs and such so if I'm the one initiating physical touch you know I'm comfortable with you. Hobbies include writing, drawing, and listening to music [mostly rock/metal/city pop but I like exploring genres and finding smaller artists to listen to]

Nsfw-ish: definitely still shy sexually and definitely on the submissive side. I dont like being emotionally vulnerable to just anyone, so I would have to be either in a long term relationship with this person or have at least 90% of my trust in them before even considering intimacy. I get strongly emotionally attached to people so I dont think I could do FWB or anything of the like.

I hope this is enough info, and if you need more just lmk. Im interested to see who you end up pairing me up with lol. Again, congrats on hitting a 100 followers!

Thank you for the congrating! I hope I get to know you more as a mutual soon!!

The wonderful F33itan says your matchup is...

Machi Komacine from Hunter x Hunter!

Do I really need to explain myself? Yeah I do okay

Just reading your ask gave me Machi vibes, then finishing it gave me MAJOR Machi vibes. Point being : You belong to with Machi.

Off topic but your name is really pretty

I kinda have this thought that Machi is either a bisexual or lesbian, and even if she isn’t she still won’t take ANY shit from males. The same goes for you. If any man EVER tries to lay a hand on you, Machi will beat the living hell out of them. If she doesn’t kill them that is.

Since she’s a troupe member, she’s either going to convince you to join or just make you tag along wherever she goes. Since your life dropped to jeopardy the moment you two began dating, Machi makes sure she always has a tab on where you are, where you’ll be, or something that she can use to contact you instantly. If you’re not by her side already of course.

Absolute tsundere when it comes to showing you affection. Since neither of you are exactly the best at initiating it, she takes the step and pretends like she’s only doing it because she’s cold, or you looked sad, making up something to avoid the fact that she wanted physical contact.

Machi likes how you can either be quiet or rowdy, it helps depending on the setting and mood you two are in. Sometimes you guys gossip about how annoying everybody in general is, and hate on Hisoka as well.

She enjoys it a lot when you lie your head in her lap or vice versa, she finds either view pretty. She just thinks you’re pretty in general tbh

Rock music blasted all the time in the car, but the two of you like listening to anything that looks interesting. You both made playlists for each other. Hers is named “Suibabe’s Playlist” and yours is “Hot Lesbian gf’s Playlist”.

⚠️⬇️ MENTIONS OF NSFW CONTENT ⬇️⚠️

Machi is definitely a dom but won't do anything you don't want to do. She's pretty inexperienced as well but she's really good at what she does. Always checking to make sure you're okay with what she's doing and you're okay with her going further into whatever it is you guys are trying out / doing.

If you ever feel uncomfortable Machi will immediately stop. She's pretty introverted as well and she wouldn't want to open up this way to just anybody, so she's a but uneasy with everything as well. If you guys stop midway Machi will either grab some snacks or talk about different things to get your mind off of everything.

Sometimes she acts like a mom, ngl. Super observant whenever you plan on going out somewhere and sometimes tags along to make sure nothing happens. There's been a couple times where she actually set a curfew on you, but know that it's all in a good mind and heart.

Machi wants nothing more than to keep you safe, healthy, and happy Suiren. Machi's favorite band is girl in red btw she told me herself.

[morepeachyogurt]

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

[lesbian-in-leather]

you don’t have to answer all of these ofc, but here’s a couple: 20, 25, 40, 51, 58, 79, 93

20. Do you want a grand adventure?

Y e s. I would genuinely love having some big quest to go on, and I feel like it'd give me a purpose. Realistically, though, I know it won't happen because I am NOT the kind of person to take that kind of risk, especially not alone. But maybe if I had the right person to go with me?

25. How fluid is your concept of gender and sexuality?

I'm pretty secure in my gender, I questioned it for a bit when I was about 15/16 and now I'm like yeah... I'm cis. My sexuality is. Uh. Not fluid exactly?? I'm just still working on it. I think I know the full thing but I have a lot of internalised stuff to work through before I can say it out loud. Tbh, having my blog name contain "lesbian" is rlly important to me because I've been raised with a lot of shame around that word in particular, even more so than "gay". I'm still unpacking that, and I can't really say it to self identify irl, but I try to use it whenever I can online. As for the other part of my sexuality, I'm just not sure if it fits me quite right so I've never really said it anywhere. Maybe someday lmao. But yeah, not really fluid, more like closeted

((Ngl I was... a little confused about what this question was asking so if I answered it wrong let me knowww and I'll do it again lmao))

40. What makes a person ‘good’? Are you a ‘good person’?

Okay this is obviously a really complex question, but I think what makes someone good is a genuine desire to help others without personal gain. Those others could be your friends, strangers, animals, anyone. I also don't think it stops you from being a good person if you don't want to help certain people because of bad things they've done to you or someone else, but that's also a complex issue because like... it depends on your concept of bad

Personally, I don't know if I'm a good person or not. Like... I do have a genuine desire to help animals and people that haven't hurt me/my friends, and even some that have, so by my own definition I guess I am? But at the same time, it feels wrong, but that could just be a whole other load of things... I feel like no one can really say if they're good or not, because we judge other people by their actions and ourselves by our thoughts, which inherrently makes us seem worse by comparison

51. What question could you ask to find out the most about a person?

If you were guaranteed a complete and honest answer, then I'd go with "can you describe your personal utopia?" Because I feel like it'll tell you what that person values and despises. They'll take out all the parts of our world that they hate, and add in anything they think would improve society. It'll show you where they stand on social issues and where their personal loyalties lie

58. Are we eventually going to ‘run out’ of new combinations for music, art, language, etc.? Is there a limit to human creativity?

Okay I am genuinely so glad I got asked this because I love it. The answer to the second half is no, and the first is that, in a lot of ways, we already have

Because if you pick any great work of art, music, literature, anything - you'll find so many works that, on paper, look exactly the same. It's like that old meme when people would describe a film or book or show in such a way that it applied to multiple pieces of media. But the media themselves were different. I think in a lot of ways, humanity ran out of new storylines a long time ago. But at the same time, we'll never run out at all. How many times have you read the same fic trope, over and over but written by different authors? This links back to what I said in the last ask about how to define art - because every creator puts a little bit of themselves into their work. And since no two artists have lived the same life, how could they ever produce identical work? We can keep rewriting the same stories over and over and they'll always be different because as humanity changes, our art changes with us. It's why we keep retelling Shakespeare or putting classic characters into modern settings - the human desire to create will keep art alive for as long as we live. I think we'll always re-tell the same stories, and they'll always be slightly different. Our art changes with us

79. When you are sad, do you listen to music that conveys your emotions or music that makes you happy?

To be honest, when I'm sad I usually don't listen to music at all - I find that it muddles my thoughts too much and it gets really overwhelming. However, when I'm scared I sing/listen to comforting songs, and when I'm angry (or on the verge of a panic attack) I listen to loud, angry songs so there's that

93. Do you draw meaning from your dreams, or do you disregard them?

Well... my dreams are rarely coherrent, so I kind of go over them and see if there's anything to it, but usually they're complete nonsense. Sometimes they send very clear messages though, like a few months ago I was having a lot of anxiety dreams about my mother (suprise suprise, we have a horrible relationship). I kind of just take each one as it comes - your subconsious creates your dreams so there's probably some merit to looking into them, but I don't think every little detail holds some great insight into your life

[manabombs]

doing this meme for mr captain jack rackham because I think i’m finally ready to try to articulate my feelings, even if no one asked (i’m sorry this post is so long)

Why I like them:  So... here’s the thing... 

I’m kind of known for dressing like a fancy gay pirate. I’ve made a lot of cosplays over the years, but my pirate outfits are what I’m most infamous for. I met my partner over a decade ago while dressed like a fancy gay pirate. Many of my friends have seen me in pirate outfits more often then they’ve seen me in normal person clothing. Once upon a time I went to art school to study fashion design and I said “yes this is the aesthetic I’m going to cultivate” and now here we are. 

When I first heard that they were making a big budget period drama that was a prequel to Treasure Island, I knew that it was going to be My Next Hyperfixation, long before I had any notion of how much queer representation there would be or even how well-written the show would be. But it took me a couple years to finally feel like I was Emotionally Ready to delve into the series (Sometimes I’m bummed that I missed out on participating in the fandom while the show was actively airing, but I’m also glad that I was able to binge it all in its entirely, because the time waiting between seasons would have made me too crazy). 

And within those first two or three episodes, I saw that greasy rat man with his mullet and his avant garde facial hair choices and whatever the hell was going on with his wardrobe

and I said to myself “wait... Calico Jack... as in, the pirate known for his fashion sense...”

and I had one of those moments where I realized that this character was so much My Type that I was mad at myself for being so predictable. and I questioned some of the life choices that I made that led me to the point that this greasy rat man the sort of character that I immediately knew that I was going to fall in love with.

But that was only the beginning, because as I watched more of the series, I related to him more and more-- I think it was mannerisms at first, and things like “having to explain the vocabulary you just used to your coworkers” and “I would also like Anne Bonny to be my wife”, but gradually I began to relate to him for increasingly personal reasons. I first watched Black Sails after I had gone through a particularly rough couple years, and the catharsis of watching Jack go from “they pissed on me” to being the character who is ultimately victorious over the series’ main antagonist was an emotionally intense experience. I was already projecting on him by the time that he delivered the “great art has felled empires” monologue, which was the moment I knew that I was deeply invested in this character, and he hadn’t even started showing off his best looks yet. There are, of course, moments where his actions are... morally dubious, but even those instances just managed to make me more attached to him, because I respect the hell out of how well the writers succeeded in making him such a well-developed character. 

By the end of the series I realized that I related to this character on an intensely personal level, in a way that I haven’t connected with a fictional character in years, except it felt more profound than the times I’ve connected with fictional characters in the past because this time I was an Adult with a deeper understanding of the Self. I don’t want to sound like a soulbonder or a kinnie or whatever the kids are calling it these days but it really felt like this:

tl;dr I came for the wardrobe and stayed for the waxing about art philosophy and historiography

Why I don’t: ... undermining the revolution wasn’t great...

Favorite episode: I’m a big fan of 2.06 because... you know...

but also because we had to wait 14 episodes to see this pirate on a fuckin boat

Favorite season: Season three features so many of my favorite tropes it feels unreal... Jack and Charles as co-captains sharing authority and declaring their undying loyalty to each other... the way he goes full dandy the moment he has money to burn... Jack has to gain the approval of his judgmental father-in-law... his homoerotic rivalry with Rogers... getting arrested and then rescued by his significant others in the most dramatic way possible... I choose to believe that there was a brief, shining moment right before the beginning of season 3 where Jack was able to just chill and be optimistic about the future and bask in Charles Vane’s approval amidst his pile of gold and new wardrobe while Anne and Max were off doing lesbian stuff...

Favorite line: “It’s the art that leaves the mark, but to leave it, it must transcend, it must speak for itself, it must be true,” I mutter to myself as I draw vampire pirates at 1am

Favorite outfit: oof what a question...

This look is probably my overall favorite and there’s a good reason why it’s the outfit he’s wearing for the final climactic battle. He has so many amazing coats, but the details on this one make it my favorite, and I also love that gradient scarf and the pink embroidered shirt. The color and pattern mixing here is impeccable. It makes me appreciate his hot mess of a wardrobe in the first season more, seeing how his first outfit just looks like plain boring muslin and then more color & patterns gradually get introduced.

This is my runner-up just because I love the shade of blue and the prince charming vibes that are happening here, so I’m sad that we only saw this look for like 3 seconds.

OTP: I can’t remember the last time I cared about a ship as much as I care about VaneRackham.... sometimes I get mad that they succeeded in making me have these Feelings about fictional characters... I watched a show with multiple canon gay relationships and ended up fixating on the queerbait white man ship where one of the characters dies, because I have questionable taste and I love making myself suffer. 😩

Brotp: Jack and Max’s relationship means so much to me 💕

Head Canon: This might be me projecting, but because of his background in textiles I headcanon that Jack was more competent at sewing than anyone else on the Ranger and that skill came in incredibly useful on more than one occasion. The fancy coats that we see him wearing in seasons 3 & 4 most likely would have been custom tailored specifically for him, but I imagine that all of his earlier ones were acquired secondhand (one way or another) and he sometimes did patching/adjustments on them himself.

Unpopular opinion: I respect the artistic liberties that were taken with his character design, but he should have been allowed to wear some silk stockings and show off his calves at least once tbh

A wish: Obviously my #1 wish is that Jack and Charles had been permitted to kiss, but I also wish that we had been able to see them on a ship together clearly I have no choice but to assume that whenever they were on a ship together there was lots of kissing going on An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: man it would sure suck if Jack was executed for piracy within like three years of the series finale 5 words to best describe them: this adam ant looking motherfucker

My nickname for them: my guy/my dude

[dinosaurtsukki]

across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. III)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own.

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

Bokuto only saw Akaashi two more times since he last left the Elysium Manor. The first time was three years after that unforgettable summer in a secluded house. Thanks to finishing the portrait commission that pleased Mikoto, a woman of relatively high social standing, Bokuto gained a bit more status within the artist circles. Rich nobles commissioned him for portraits, scholars and other writers and artists commissioned him to create paintings of fantastical scenes, and almost any painting that he made was guaranteed a spot in a museum. Bokuto was invited to join the upper social circles at their dinners and luncheons or visits to the opera, but he would politely decline. He couldn’t imagine himself being a part of that social circle and let them paint a picture of mystery around him.

Instead, he decided to teach. He used his money to open a studio for young artists and taught them the basics of sketching and painting with different mediums, instructing them the way his master did. Bokuto had his own studio situated on the floor above where he would teach that came with a bedroom. At night, he’d open the windows for the smell of turpentine and oil to air out, but he’d keep the windows closed, the lights off, and the backdoor open for Kuroo to come in.

He was a male model, one quite famous with fellow artists for being a good one. There were probably a number of sculptures in the nearby museum, Asphodel, based on his physique. He didn’t discriminate when it came to preferring the company of men and women and hit his preferences just as well as Bokuto did. Kuroo was a nice man, a kind one, and Bokuto knew that maybe the dark-haired model had feelings for him. And yet, he never crossed that line. Most likely, Kuroo could see that faraway look in Bokuto’s eyes when he woke up in the morning, his eyes searching for the sea and whatever was across it.

The first time he saw Akaashi was in Asphodel. Bokuto had recently finished a painting that was going to be a centerpiece in their main gallery. On that day, he wore his best shirt and tried to wet his hair and comb it down but to no avail. ‘It’s alright. You’re known for your skills. Not your looks,’ he told himself before putting on a coat and heading out to leave.

The museum was already packed when he arrived with a good number of people circled around his painting. Bokuto pushed his way through the crowd, muttering ‘Excuse me’ along the way, until he was standing near it with his back to the wall. He was aware that he was drawing attention to himself looking like a sentinel instead of the painter but he couldn’t help but wonder about the things people would say. One of the viewers, a young couple, were in conversation as they scanned the painting.

“It’s that Greek legend, isn’t it? The one with Orpheus.”

“Yes. And his wife Eurydice. He traveled to the Underworld after she died with the hope of being able to bring her to life again.”

“I remember! But then there was a condition, right? He couldn’t turn around.”

“That’s right. Although… most painters and writers depict Eurydice already just as Orpheus turned around. In this one, it’s as if he turned around just in time to see her fall.”

“Kind of like he expected it?”

“Maybe. It’s quite an interesting take, if you ask me.”

“Indeed, it is.”

Bokuto smiled to himself, satisfied at the exchange generated by his painting. It was all about the exchanges, the different conversations that his art generated. He stayed by his painting for a few more minutes, listening to conversations, before deciding to stroll through the museum and peruse the other collections. His best sources of inspiration were other artists, but during this visit, it wasn’t just inspiration he found.

It was another portrait of Akaashi Keiji.

It hung in one of the museum wings that they dedicated to portraits. Bokuto rarely needed inspiration for those but something about that day pulled him into the wing to view the collections until he caught a familiar painted face. ‘Is it really him?’ he wondered, eyes flying to the placard to the right that confirmed his suspicions: Portrait of Akaashi Keiji, oil on canvas. It was him. In the portrait, Akaashi was sitting on a chair, elbows on a desk, hands holding up a book. His posture was impeccable as always but his face was completely absorbed in what he was reading. But it was him: same high cheekbones, same curly brown hair, same delicate fingers, same emerald eyes.

Bokuto didn’t know how long he stood there just drinking in the portrait and attempted to memorize every detail when he came to the book in Akaashi’s hands. The worn spine, the burgundy leather jacket, even the size of it: it was his book on Greek Mythology. The book was angled just so, enough for the viewer to see the top corner of the righthand page. “Page 57,” Bokuto whispered, overcome with sheer sadness and joy at the encounter, “You remember.”

The second and last time Bokuto saw Akaashi happened two years later at the Museum Greek History, this time in a different city. Bokuto was there working on a commission for a noblewoman who wanted portraits of each of her children. It was a lot of work, but the money was good and he got to see much of the city. Bokuto decided to explore the museum during a day off. His favorite part was the collection of ancient texts and scrolls that were each displayed in a glass case. He couldn’t read anything that was written, but he liked knowing that they had such a collection. ‘Maybe this time they won’t keep the homosexual subtext out of translation,’ he thought with a smile. He still held out hope that maybe someday, people would accept that Achilles and Patroclus were lovers.

With that thought in mind, Bokuto decided he was done looking around for the day and get ready for the amount of work he would have to do on the way back home. He was walking down the flights of stairs, deep in thought, when a voice shook him out of his thoughts.

“Bokuto-san.”

He had to hold onto the railing to keep himself from falling. It was just like that time he saw Akaashi’s portrait two years ago. Nobody else said his name like that: all crisp syllables and with more than a little warmth in the tone. Bokuto remembered the last time he actually saw Akaashi back at Elysium Manor, and turned around.

There he was, standing at the top of the staircase. He looked as if five years had barely laid a finger on him and looked just as surprised as Bokuto did. Akaashi took a hesitant step forward and walked down two steps. Bokuto felt as if he was back in Elysium Manor as their surroundings fell away.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

“H-how… how have you been?” Bokuto stammered. So many questions overwhelmed his mind and yet he could only pick out that one. An inkling of a smile appeared on Akaashi’s face as he nodded his head in understanding. ‘Even now, we still have this connection,’ Bokuto thought.

“I’m alright. Married. We live in a nice house. My wife is kind, beautiful, friendly. Sometimes we play card games at night,” he enumerated, tapping absentmindedly at the railing of the stairway. “A good life actually.” He looked back at Bokuto. ‘But you’re not in it,’ he seemed to say. “How about you?”

“I could say the same,” Bokuto managed a smile. “My paintings have been pretty famous. I get commissioned often. I teach young artists. I make enough to keep my studio and do some traveling here and there.”

“Sounds like a good life.”

“It does.” But it was just that: good. Bokuto opened his mouth to say something when a child came running down the staircase from above.

“Father!” he exclaimed, barreling into Akaashi’s side. ‘Father,’ Bokuto echoed in his mind. The little boy looked to be about five or four years old. He mostly took after his mother as he had fair hair and fair skins, but when Bokuto looked at closer, he could tell that the boy had his father’s eyes.

“Hiro. Please don’t run down the stairs, you could slip,” Akaashi gently scolded him, leaning down a bit to fix his tie. It was such a small gesture but it made Bokuto’s heart ache just to watch.

“I saw this really cool looking spear in the Weapons Wing. It looked just like the one in the book you read to me!” the young boy exclaimed excitedly.

“Is that so? I hope you remember it well then,” Akaashi fondly patted his son’s head before turning to Bokuto. “Hiro, this is one of my… good friends, Bokuto. Bokuto, this is Hiro. My son.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bokuto smiled down at him. Hiro cocked his head and waved shyly, making Bokuto chuckle. “He has your eyes, Akaashi.” During the past five years, Bokuto had held out hope that maybe he and Akaashi would cross paths again, that maybe they could run away like what Akaashi dreamed of. But now, he knew that he was too late. Ever since he left Elysium Manor, it was all too late for that.

“It was great seeing you again, Akaashi,” Bokuto cleared his throat and feigned a smile. “I… I have to take my leave now.” He didn’t want to leave. With every fiber of his being, he didn’t want to leave. He would hold this encounter in his heart for the rest of his life but nothing good would come out of him speaking his mind.

“Alright, say goodbye, Hiro,” Akaashi said, tight-lipped. ‘You know it too,’ Bokuto thought.

“Bye,” Hiro waved shyly. Just as Bokuto was about to turn and leave, Akaashi quickly ran down the rest of the steps and wrapped both of his arms around him before he could say anything. Bokuto held his arms awkwardly at his sides before wrapping them around Akaashi’s waist. He wondered how much Akaashi had tried to hold himself back from doing this.

“Koutarou,” he whispered. “Until now, do you…?”

“I do. I think of you every single day,” Bokuto whispered back. “I still love you, Keiji.”

“I’m glad,” Akaashi swallowed and pulled back, leaving the feeling of that loss of warmth that Bokuto would carry with him for the rest of his life. And with that, he nodded once, and left.

Five more years passed. Bokuto had begun to grow tired of the fame and attention and decided to move to a provincial town along the coast. He left his studio to one of his young apprentices, packed up his materials, and bought a small house with a garden that sat near a cliff, overlooking the sea. He still painted, it was something he never grew tired of, but he chose to paint nature or the people at the countryside instead of the portraits of noblemen and fantastical scenes. He liked getting to know his neighbors, going to the festivals held at the town square, and looking out of his window to see the birds that chirped on the trees or dove into the sea for food. He was sitting on his chair outside, trying to sketch the charming woodpecker he saw that morning from memory, when Kageyama came.

“If it isn’t Elysium Manor’s most loyal butler,” Bokuto grinned at him as he saw the familiar head of black hair approach his porch. He looked different from the last time Bokuto saw him. His arms were thicker and his complexion was slightly tanned. But it was still him.

“It took a while for me to find you, Bokuto,” he returned the smile.

“Find me?” Bokuto said, puzzled. “Did you suddenly become a fan of my paintings?”

“No, it’s…” Kageyama paused and exhaled, the look on his face somber. “Can we talk inside?” Bokuto felt his stomach drop. He knew he wasn’t going to like whatever it is Kageyama was going to say.

“Sure. I’ll make tea.”

Once they were sitting at the table with two mugs of tea between them, Kageyama broke the news.

“Akaashi-san passed away last winter.”

The news hit Bokuto like cold water to the face. Akaashi Keiji. The man that Bokuto had loved ten summers ago. The man he just saw five years ago. The one that haunted him at midnight, tossing and turning and longing for that touch and wondering about all the what-could-have-been’s. His Akaashi Keiji. His Akaashi Keiji whose sketch Bokuto still kept in a small pocketbook close to his heart. Who grew up a lonely, sickly boy in a house full of books. His Akaashi Keiji, who would mumble ‘Koutarou’ every time they woke up together during those numbered mornings. His Akaashi Keiji.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto. I truly am,” Kageyama sighed, reaching out to touch his fingertips.

“How—how did you know?” he stammered.

“I received a letter,” he said. “It said that he contracted tuberculosis from a trip abroad and, well you know how sickly he is. He wasn’t able to survive it.”

“God…” Bokuto rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I… I didn’t think… of all things…”

“I know,” Kageyama nodded. “The letter said that I was mentioned in Akaashi-san’s will. He entrusted two items to me to deliver to you.” With that, he pulled a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twin from his satchel and placed it on the table. Bokuto made no move to accept it. All he wanted was Akaashi back. He didn’t care if had to take ten, twenty more years for them to meet again. He just wanted to know he was alive somewhere and still thinking of him.

“I…I think I know why he had these sent to me instead of having them delivered directly to you,” Kageyama cleared his throat. “Akaashi-san cared about you, and yes, I know he cared about you in that way. I could see it in the way he looked at you. I was skeptical at first of your relationship but ten years after, the moments I witnessed of the two you stand out starkly.”

At this, Bokuto could feel himself collapse with his head on the table, the dam of tears finally breaking as he sobbed into his arms. “It’s true. We did love each other.”

“I know he thought of you in those last moments,” Kageyama consoled him. “You were too important for him to think of breaking the news to you through just a letter.”

Bokuto didn’t know how long he had cried there on the table for. He could hear Kageyama busying himself in the kitchen and the smell of dinner being cooked, as if they were both back at Elysium Manor. Finally, when his tears had all run out, he sat up to open the package that Akaashi had entrusted to Kageyama. Inside, there were two books: the Greek Mythology book that Akaashi loved so much, much worn down than the last time Bokuto had used it to sketch a portrait of himself, and a soft, leather-bound notebook.

It was late so Kageyama stayed the night and slept on a roll-out cot beside Bokuto’s bed before he left the next morning. “It’s a nice place,” he told him, as they stood at the cliffside overlooking the sea. “I could see why you chose to be here.”

The next few months after that was the longest that Bokuto spent without painting. Every time he tried to pick up a brush or a piece of drawing charcoal, his hands shook and all he could see in front of him was the half-finished portrait of Akaashi, and Akaashi himself posing in the distance. And at night, he’d find himself looking over his shoulder more than once to see that vision of his beloved, pale as a ghost.

Finally, he picked up the leather notebook that Akaashi left for him. He had expected it to be a diary but it ended up being slightly more than that. It was a story: about a lonely boy who spent his days reading books in an empty house and the beautiful painter who entered his life and made it worth living. ‘He came on a little lifeboat from across the sea,’ it began. Bokuto found himself tearing up again at the sight of Akaashi’s handwriting.

Every day, little by little, he read a bit more of the story, mostly while he was sitting on a chair near the cliffside. He relived everything: the time Akaashi drank the sea from his cupped hands, the look on his face when he saw the ruined portrait, Akaashi dancing around the maypole with his crown of chrysanthemums, the summer night kiss, the feeling of their bodies pressed together, the sound of his voice when he read out loud, Akaashi’s emerald green suit in the portrait, their last night together, the morning after and the sketches to remember each other by, Akaashi illuminated by a single shaft of light in the middle of the floor, the portrait of him hanging in the museum with the pages of his book turned to the 57th page, the last time Bokuto heard Akaashi say his name.

At the very last page of the notebook was a note, directly addressed to him: I know for a fact that there are others like us, Koutarou. Afraid of the punishment, afraid of the scorn. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about what people would think of me once I died, but if there is one thing I want people to remember about me, its that I was yours, always yours. Maybe someday there will be a place for people like us, a better place. And I want them to know that we’ve always been around. We’ve hid. We’ve suffered. We’ve lost. But we’ve also loved.

“We have loved, haven’t we Akaashi?” Bokuto whispered, closing the notebook. He knew that he was going to finally pick up his charcoals and later on, his brush. He remembered what Akaashi said about how texts were continuously misinterpreted to remove the homoerotic subtext and as much as he knew it would be difficult to do so with Akaashi’s journal, Bokuto wanted to further ensure how history would remember them. He would sketch and paint everything he could possibly remember. But for now, he wanted to finish his day staring out across the sea.

Kageyama knew why Bokuto purposely chose to make his home here. The town and house he lived in was just on the other side of the sea, across where Elysium Manor still reportedly stood. Nobody went there and it was still Akaashi’s name, but the land and the manor would eventually be donated to the nearby town. Under the condition that Akaashi Keiji’s final resting place wouldn’t be disturbed.

“That clause in his will was only allowed for me to hear,” Kageyama had said a few months ago before he left. “That small plot of land next to where Akaashi-san is buried is entrusted to me to be passed on to you. Bokuto-san, I will ensure that that will be your final resting place. And if I pass on before you, I will entrust the task to my nephew. I can promise you that.”

“You do love your Greek myths, don’t you Akaashi?” Bokuto smiled to himself. He could almost hear his laugh in the back of his mind. As he looked out to the sea, he could just barely make out what lay across it. It made Bokuto remember how Orpheus and Eurydice’s tale truly ended. After losing his wife a second time, Orpheus wandered the Earth, lost and mourning, until he was torn apart and killed by Maenads, Dionysus’ traveling followers. When Orpheus soul traveled down to the Underworld, Eurydice was there, standing on the banks of the River Styx, arms outstretched to her lover who finally came home.

[sweetlittlevampire]

is this reincarnation au youve been talking about really good? ive read a few already, how does it stand out?

Hi Nonnie!

First of all - I have no idea how long you’ve been waiting for this reply. Apparently your ask has been sitting in my inbox for a few hours, but I’ve received no notification of it (tumblr at its finest again), and I just discovered it because I clicked on the inbox icon at random. Sorry about the delay!  😅

The fic we’re talking about is the recluse at the end of the moonlit path by @huacheng-zhu , for those of you who are curious. The description reads:

Wei Wuxian died twice.

Hundreds of years later, Wei Ying, a young artist in search of escape and inspiration comes to Gusu. There, he meets a mysterious recluse—a mysterious recluse who, unbeknownst to Wei Ying, has been waiting for him for a long, long time.

So this is, indeed, a reincarnation AU.  And yes, you may consider this an extensive fic rec.

Now, let me preface this by saying that this is my first reincarnation AU. Which is...weird, considering just how many are floating around out there, and I am planning on reading a few more.

Also yes, I do consider it to be really good, and I will elaborate as to why in a moment (and will try to do so without spoiling it too much, or at least not more than I already did, oops! Sorry, @huacheng-zhu !). However I also want you to keep in mind that, while I absolutely adore it, and I know other people who also do, doesn’t mean that you will automatically love it as much. You might find it tacky, or boring, or even just a non-creative way of using the trope, I don’t even know. And that’s okay! Tastes and preferences vary; without this fact we wouldn’t have such an amazing plethora of varied fan content out there for us to enjoy.

So what is it about this fic that makes me go  😍 😍 😍?

The world & the pacing. I consider it to be a slow fic for my standards, and I’ve enountered a few slow fics that had me yawning after a while. However it goes hand in hand with the world it is set in. We meet Wei Ying in a modern Gusu. He’s an artist and has his cameras and sketchbook with him, and he wanders about trying to capture different things: from beautiful motifs to a certain feeling trapped on celluloid. It’s nothing that comes fast, and he is enjoying himself. It fits. Lan Wangji lives alone in a house in the woods, a bit up the mountain, with only his rabbits as company. He rarely allows visitors, so his little bubble of the world is calm and slow as well. It’s - soothing? In a way? Like, imagine you’re sitting on a bench in a parc on a warm summer day. You hear a body of water nearby, a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the trees around you, and the ground is dappled by sunlight falling through the tree branches. You know when you return home, there will be someone you love, and who loves you, waiting for you. That’s what this fic feels like to me. Someone described it as walking through a Ghibli movie, and they’re not wrong.

The bittersweetness and melancholy. Listen. So this is a reincarnation AU - Wei Wuxian has been reincarnated as Wei Ying. Lan Wangji has not. It becomes clear very fast that Lan Wangji has indeed cultivated to immortality, and is patiently waiting for his Wei Ying to return to him, in each and everyone of his lifetimes. Which - he’s not even sure if it will ever happen. What if Wei Ying gets reincarnated as a completely different person? In a completely different place? What if their paths never cross? What if Wei Ying never remembers? What if he gets reincarnated as someone who won’t be able to love, or even like Lan Wangji again? And in spite of what the fic description says, one can’t help but wonder: How often has Lan Wangji gone through the cycle of waiting for his love, finding him, and having to witness him die again, only for the cycle to begin anew? How long has he been suffering like that? How long and often will he be able to take it before he breaks for good? I’m sure this is explored in many reincarnation AUs out there, but the way this fic handles it is very beautiful, very gentle...which brings me to

The tenderness. Like - we know Wangxian. We know they can be cuddly and sweet, but when it comes to Everyday Business (you know what I mean), they usually get pretty wild. First of all, the physical love scene is implied here. There’s a fade to black. We know it happens, and it fits. Honestly though, a very intense cuddle session would have also fit the bill, but I digress. What I am trying to say is: We witness Wei Ying fall for this stranger with his white and pastel blue clothes and guqin and horde of bunnies, and while he falls fast, he also falls gently. It’s not like a “BOOM - Congratulations, you’re in love now!”. To me, it felt more as if Wei Ying had realised it gradually, slowly - he’s still very much Wei Ying, and he’s very much in character, but this is an alternative universe. He’s been raised differently and has different life experiences, so sometimes he reacts accordingly, rather than what we’re used of him. And it fits, it never feels off to me in this fic. Of course, Lan Wangji never fell out of love, but the way in which he treats Wei Ying is so gentle and tender it almost hurts. When you finally get to the love scene, it’s - they’ve been pining and longing, yes, but it’s one of the most emotional get-together scenes I’ve ever read. It’s so full of happiness and fluttering hearts and trembling fingers and tears, but not in a bad way, They are gentle with each other, everything is calm and full of whispers and held breaths and silent exhales, full of tenderness, absolutely loving. It’s gorgeous, and I am feeling warm and tearing up at the same time just thinking about it.

There is mention of a lesbian couple and a badass non-binary OC. I love all of them, they’re super cool!

There are cats.

There is one chapter left of the story, yet to be published, and I’m gonna be honest: I am so sad to let it go. Absolutely devastated. I am pretty sure I am going to reread this several times, simply because I don’t wanna leave this world behind just yet, and how it makes me feel. But I know from own experience with drawing that working on the same project for a long time can be really really draining, and I can understand that @huacheng-zhu is itching for a break from it, for something new and fresh. All I can do is say Thank You for the joy their story is bringing me over and over again.

This got really long; I hope this answers your question, Anon! I did ramble a lot though; sorry about that!

[random-senpai]

With GBF its like....Here are a thousand women who are in love with you. There are no men who are the same except for one villain. And here's a bunch of yuri bait canon lesbian couples. But any guys you might ship are just friends.

At the end of the day waifus sell. Its easy to have them being yuri bait as long as they're yuri AND willing to fuck the self insert. Thats just how gacha is and it's a tough pill to swallow, but one you need to nontheless.

But what kills me about GBF is that it USED to be on the better end of the spectrum when it came to equal treatment for boys and girls. GranOtome Fantasy was a thing when Between Frost and Flame came out. The vibes of Percy's love were so strong that even straight boy hentai artists started to ship Percy x Djeeta and draw a bunch of art. Year 1 & 2 Valentines/White day lines for a majority of the boys are MUCH more romantically implied. And we even had White Day Banners with increased male drop rates.

But then KMR took over and things changed. Holiday lines became incredibly platonic for a majority of the males. Valentines Waifus were introduced and people were excited over a White Day Flashfest. Only for us to get our usual White Day banner with nobody new. They actually PUSHED Flash Fest back and released Jeanne in a bikini the day after. And then next year? Not even the old White Day banner. They just waited for it to be over and released another waifu in a bikini. And that's been the norm since.

But yeah its really sad. Because the game was great and showed promise, but gradually became more and more of a generic waifu game. And when we DO actually get male content it's almost always DK, Angels, Iristill, or Levin, and often times bland and obviously targeted at Fujoshis to sell whatever product has their face stamped on it or a new SSR.

I'm not even going to go into depth about when they released a lazy character whose main trait is being a hentai rape joke (She even had 3 arms later lmaooooo). Or the fact that the more suggestive lines from guys belong to obvious tr*p and shota bait (one of them literally suggestivly inviting you to bed in his uncap art)

Its not all bad though. Ladiva has been treated very respectfully lately as the queen she is. Plus a NPC even straight up says he has wonderful and supportive gay dads. But still alot leaves a bad taste in my mouth when I think of this game I used to love wholeheartedly.

[thotful-alien]

Comphet makes so much sense

I've had obsessive crushes on guys my whole life. I remember writing about my infatuations in my journals since I was a kid. I never seriously acted upon these crushes, though. They were usually unattainable. The few times a guy expressed interest in me first, I freaked out, I'd avoid them. Or if I indulged them and they went in for a kiss, I felt sick to my stomach. I found reasons for them to not be good enough for me. But I'd tell myself to give them a chance even when I wanted to run away screaming, and I ended up in unfulfilling uncomfortable scenarios.

What I wanted was validation and attention from my objects of desire. A relationship in which I was pursued was unsatisfactory. I tried hard to feel excited but something was missing. I was just along for the ride, trying to figure out if I was broken inside and incapable love.

My past infatuations included:

- Professors MUCH older than me

- boys older than me

- Taken guys who were dating my friends

- Gay guys

- an actual abusive Sociopath

- Tom Hiddleston as Loki

- guys who didn't acknowledge me outside of class

The first man I convinced myself I was in love with was dating an ex-friend of mine. He and I were good friends and I let my infatuation bloom, I even eventually told myself I was physically attracted to him, that he's the only guy I'd actually marry and have kids with. But fast forward 3 years, when he was finally single and hit me up, I didn't want to pursue him even though I was *so* in love with him throughout the years. I just felt powerful that he desired me. I lost all serious interest. He came over one evening 2 years ago and his car got towed so he slept on my couch. At one point he woke me up asking if he could cuddle me and I said yes, and that moment was like so satisfying because I finally got what I thought I wanted from him. I didn't actually physically feel butterflies. He later asked me to be his Valentine and I said yes, but he didn't see me that day and left for New Zealand a few weeks later. I was only a little sad tbh. I feel like I still love him but as a platonic friend.

A lot of taken guys that I'm close to develop crushes on me, it feels powerful for a while but then I'm just uncomfortable with it, I just wish I could be best friends with men without them feeling anything about me.

I find that's true in general. I just want to be left alone. If a cute guy seems to be interested in me, I find every flaw possible to justify not wanting to indulge him. I just want to be "bros" with boys. I get nervous if I feel them checking me out. Even objectively attractive men make me nervous, and I'm not physically attracted to them and I don't see myself in a relationship with them.

In fact I've set impossible standards in place and I don't even see a man in my future at all. When I envision my future I see me, a cat, some house plants, and being the "cool aunt" babysitter at family gatherings when my brothers have kids. I have zero desire to pursue men at all.

I was dumped last month by a guy I decided to trust even though the first time he kissed me I freaked out and wanted to vomit. I told myself it was PTSD from a past experience and to get over myself and give him a chance because he's a good friend of my brothers' and he was really charming and easy to talk to. As the relationship continued he turned out to be a fucking narcissist, so that's fun, but I had to force myself to find him attractive and overlook the fact that I felt nothing towards him physically and kinda just ignored his corporeal form. He treated me great at first so I ignored my gut feelings. I grew to like the idea of him and the idea of our future because it would be so convenient since he's close to my family already. But when I imagined us long-term, I grew incredibly sad. I knew that I didn't want to actually settle down with him yet, because I wanted to be with a woman. That thought never went away.

The relationship went to shit and I've been recovering for a month now but I feel freed in a sense because I want to finally be with a woman. That idea is so exciting to me. I've always been attracted to women and I only acknowledged it at age 19 and I told myself I was bi because of my past infatuations for men. But accepting that I like girls was such a huge moment for me, I'd been repressing those feelings my whole life. I wasn't doing a good job apparently because everyone around me thought I was gay before I even entertained the idea.

I was actually kinda bullied and made fun of because everyone thought I was gay. Thankfully in marching band there were HELLA queer folks and I ended up running with the crowd that grew up to be members of the LGBT+ community. They all thought I was gay, too. Not even bi, just straight up gay. But I was too defensive about it and kept ignoring my feelings. I only had one real boyfriend in highschool and that was my senior year, it lasted until after my first semester in college until I broke it off. I never felt excited about him, he stopped communicating, so I found reasons to decide I shouldn't be in a relationship with him. He didn't do anything wrong per se, I just knew I couldn't be with him anymore.

That was my first serious relationship, and the longest one I had. The last one I got out of was only 4 months. And the entire time I was wishing I could be with a woman instead.

In the past I've entertained the idea of being a lesbian instead of being bi, since the only times I've been excited about someone hitting on me have been when they were women. I always had a special soft spot for my friends growing up. I realized last year that I felt love for my straight best friend. Something about women is just so exciting, they make me feel warm and get the butterflies, I blush and look away when I see a beautiful girl on campus. My Instagram feed is full of beautiful models and makeup artists, as well as traditional artists that draw women, and I'm just so drawn to appreciating women's bodies and their beauty.

Even drawing a woman gets me all excited and tingly. I never feel like that with men, even picturesque guys that are objectively attractive. I seriously thought I was asexual until I acknowledged my very real attraction to women.

In video games where you can woo a woman, I get so fucking excited for the chance to do so. Growing up (and still now) I occasionally make lesbian couples on the Sims, and I always felt this guilty excitement when they would kiss.

The first fantasy that excited me as a teenager that wasn't some fucked up power scenario was me imagining I was playing 7 minutes in heaven and getting paired up with a girl.

I've felt over the past few years that I'm definitely more on the gay side of the bisexual spectrum. But now I'm feeling like I really am a lesbian. I looked up comphet when I was searching for answers online and the masterdoc I found just perfectly described my life, I felt like I was seen and understood for the first time. I think everyone around me was right that I'm actually gay as fuck. Throughout my shitty relationship I found myself looking longingly at beautiful women and feeling like something in my life was missing. After things ended I wrote in my journals that I wished I were a lesbian. And finding the masterdoc was so affirming for me! I want to shout it from the rooftops but I'm afraid people will think it's just because I broke up last month and I'm just "done" dealing with men. But I feel like this chance to reflect upon myself has brought me to acknowledge that I'm Gay as FUCK. And that my feelings for men were comphet.

I previously identified as bisexual, and this is in no way being biphobic or dismissive, I will fight to the teeth to defend the legitimacy of bisexual folks, fight their erasure, and that they belong in queer spaces and queer discourse. I just, I think I just took a really long time to unravel my feelings, and I feel like I'm realizing at age 25 that I am, indeed, a lesbian.

It's a difficult feeling because I feel finally that I've found a label that fits me, but I've been out as Bi for years now and even though my immediate family never pressured me to settle down with a man and pop out babies, I feel like it was a choice I HAD to make. Like I had to just hang up my Bi flag and become a housewife. But I don't want that. I don't see myself with a man in the future. And if I want kids I can find a sperm donor. I think I'm feeling the loss of "the option" of living a straight life. But I don't want that at all. So it's difficult unwrapping myself from that expectation.

But yeah I'm fairly certain that I'm a lesbian, I feel like I need to tell people but I don't know how to go about doing it and I'm afraid I won't be taken seriously even though my immediate family is 100% supportive and accepting. I don't know how or when to come out to people. I'm still dealing with self doubt. But I'm fucking GAY GOD DAMNIT and I feel like everyone has to know!

Fuck.

Anyway of you read this really, I really appreciate it. This is a huge transformative moment for me.

[you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus]

Cyrus’ Dictionary

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10

Summary: Cyrus has always been good with words; there’s a reason English is his favorite subject. But with TJ, he seems to be at a loss for words. When they get paired up for a summer assignment, Cyrus slowly starts to build a new dictionary. One that involves TJ and everything they do together. Along the way, maybe he’ll find the words to tell him how he feels.

Chapter 10: Naz

Word Count: 3292

Read on AO3

Buffy paced around her room, waiting for the ringing on the phone to stop.

“Hello?” came Cyrus’ voice from the other end.

“We have a problem,” she muttered, plopping down on her bed.

“Oh? Is everything okay?” Cyrus asked, his brows furrowing together.

“Marty told me he loves me,”

Cyrus nearly choked on his own spit. “He did?”

Buffy nodded, even though Cyrus couldn’t see her. “And it was totally out of the blue, like we were literally playing Mario Kart,” she explained, “and I was just so shocked and taken aback. So I just left,”

“Yikes,” Cyrus mumbled, much to the displease of Buffy.

“Not helping. What do I do?” she asked, playing with a lock of her hair.

“Well, do you love him?”

Buffy paused, and Cyrus almost thought that she’d hung up. “I-I don’t know. I’m not sure,”

“Tell him that,” he offered her, “feelings can be really hard and silence can be worse than the truth,”

“You’re probably right,” she said, “so, you and TJ?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

Cyrus froze, inhaling sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“Your text seemed off,” she stated.

“Nah, things are good, I’m good, we’re good,” he rambled, his face scrunching up as he spoke.

“Oo, you gonna hang out with him again?” she cooed, and even though Cyrus couldn’t see her, he knew she was smirking.

“Yeah, we’re going to the fair in town,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Not sure how that’s gonna go with his mom,”

“What do you mean?”

“Long story. I’ll talk to you later?” Cyrus offered.

“Talk to me after your date,” Buffy chuckled, grinning widely.

“I love you and I hate you,” he said, hanging up and putting his phone in his pocket.

“Stay still, I’m gonna screw it up!” Walker insisted, pouting.

“But it tickles,” Jonah countered, looking up at him with a big grin. He put his hands under his legs, trying to keep himself from squirming and ruining Walker’s face paint job.

“Bi the way, you look great with this,” Walker joked, to which Jonah replied with finger-guns.

“And you look pan-tastic. . .that was awful, I’m sorry,” he shook his head, peering in the mirror to admire Walker’s work, “it’s so pretty! I love it,”

Walker beamed, taking Jonah’s hand and rushing down the stairs. “Mom, we’re ready to go!”

Walker’s mom hurried into the room. “Well don’t you boys look lovely,” she remarked, ushering them out the door, “you know if anything happens to call me, right?”

“Right, we will,” Walker promised, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, “love you!”

The couple walked down the street, hand in hand, until they saw the big arch of rainbow balloons. Flags in every size and color danced in the wind, people threw confetti everywhere, and the whole environment looked a little hectic, but loving nonetheless.

“You ever been to pride before?” Walker asked, squeezing through the crowd to try and get a better view for the parade.

Jonah shook his head. “Never, what’s it like?”

“It’s like someone threw up the world’s biggest rainbow, then doused it in glitter,” he joked, “it’s really great,”

The parade was up and running by the time they got there. There was a bi float, to which Jonah screamed at the top of his lungs about. Someone on the float tossed him a little pin that said ‘I like my men how I like my women’. Sure, they were getting jostled and bumped around, but Jonah wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything in the world. Confetti filled the air, as did whoops of applause, when a proposal took place on one of the floats, and everyone collectively lost their minds.

“This is so great!” Walker cheered, turning towards Jonah, who had a small, telling smile on his face, “what?”

“. . .I love you,” he said softly, thinking the words would get lost in the cacophony of the parade.

Walker grinned, tears brimming from his eyes. “I love you too, you know. I was . . .gonna tell you, but I was afraid you were gonna freak out,”

Jonah cupped Walker’s face, bringing their noses together. “You absolute dork,” he mumbled, pecking his lips. People around them joined in with a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’, a few clapping the boys on the back and telling them they were adorable together. Everything was going so well.

Until a certain middle-aged woman was walking down the street and was able to pick out her son from the crowd.

“Jonah!” a shrill voice stood out from all the others, “Jonah what are you doing here?”

His blood ran cold. He felt like he was going to faint or cry or throw up or all three. Luckily, Walker was there holding his hand, and telling him things were going to be okay. People around Jonah and Walker stared at the woman.

“C’mon, let’s go,” she said, holding out her hand.

Jonah opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. By this point, more and more people had gathered around him, whispers and murmurs tearing through the crowd.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Beck,” Walker piped up, ever the brave one, “he’s gonna stay with me. I really care about him and,” he looked at Jonah, smiling softly, “I know he really cares about me,”

“But. . .you’re both boys?” she hesitated, all of a sudden feeling quite uncomfortable in her situation.

“Good catch, lady,” someone from the crowd called out, earning a few ‘woos’ and applause.

“So?” Jonah said, trying to stand his ground, “Mom, I love him. Isn’t that all that matters?”

Jonah’s mom looked at Walker, conflicted, as if trying to ask him for answers, but his face read ‘don’t look at me’.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a happy son who loves a boy rather than a sad one who pretends to love a girl?” said someone else, offering some advice.

She took a few steps forward, parting through the crowd to get to her son. “Jonah,” she started, putting her hands on his shoulder, “I love you no matter what, you know that right?”

And at that, Jonah collapsed into her arms and started to cry. Happy tears, sad tears, all the tears. Cheers and applause ensued, but all Jonah could think about was how happy he was to finally have this weight lifted off of his chest.

When his mom pulled away, she looked at Walker. “So, you’re the artist?”

Walker ducked his head, trying to hide the ever-growing blush on his cheeks. “How do you know?”

“Jonah has a drawing you did in his room,” she supplied, to which Jonah groaned of embarrassment, “and that’s my cue to leave. I’ll catch you boys later,” she said, walking off.

“You have a drawing I did in your room?” Walker asked, a soft smile gracing his face.

Jonah nodded. “The one you did of me in the park that day. It’s always been my favorite,”

Walker grinned, slinging an arm around him. He opened his mouth to say something, but then what seemed like a pound of glitter rained down on them.

“Happy pride, you’re never getting the glitter out of your hair,” Walker chuckled.

“Worth it,” Jonah assured him, grinning like an idiot.

“Yes!” TJ pumped his fist in the air, after he’d sunk the last basket.

“Surprise, surprise, ladies and gents, TJ Kippen can shoot basketballs,” Cyrus teased, poking his shoulder.

TJ ignored him, pointing to the plush dinosaur behind the man. “For you,”

Cyrus looked from the stuffed animal to TJ. “Really?”

TJ nodded. “Of course. You love dinosaurs, so it only makes sense that I’d give it to you,”

“It’s also a stuffed animal and I’m 16 years old,”

“I can easily take that away from you. I will turn this prize around,” he threatened with mock authority, crossing his arms.

Cyrus sighed, tucking the dino under his arm. “Thanks,” he muttered, kicking the ground.

TJ frowned, trying to meet his gaze. “Do you not like it? I can pick something else,”

Cyrus shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I just. . .I wish I could win you something, but my lack of hand-eye coordination impedes that desire,”

TJ rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, most of these games are probably math driven,” he insisted, peering at the booths, “darts?”

“Sure, we’ll just end up in the ER when I inevitably forget which direction to throw it in,” Cyrus mused, following TJ.

“I’ll help you,” he offered, handing the lady behind the booth a few tickets, and getting a few darts in return, “take the first shot. I’ll hold your beloved dinosaur,”

Cyrus picked up one of the darts with extreme caution. He shut one eye, trying to gauge where he should throw it. After a few intense moments of concentration, he threw it, and it hit the board and landed on the ground.

“Help?” TJ offered, setting the plush animal aside and coming up beside him, holding the dart in both their hands, “so, just pinch it like this,” he said, moving Cyrus’ fingers in the right position, electricity zipping through him with each touch.

Cyrus felt like he almost couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t even know why. Was there something in the air? Was it some weird summer curse? Either way, the next thing he knew was that the dart had left his hands and the balloon popped.

“Hey, you did it!” TJ cheered, ruffling his hair gently, “told you,”

Cyrus pointed to a small, plush basketball, thanking the lady. “For you,”

TJ beamed, picking it up like it was his own child. “I love it, thank you,”

Cyrus shrugged, grabbing his dinosaur as they walked. “Doesn’t begin to compare to this, but I’m glad you like it,”

“Cyrus?” a voice called, followed by a slew of excited squeals.

“Amber, hey!” he greeted, “ and Andi. What are you guys doing?”

“We’re going to recreate Love, Simon,” Andi said, pointing to the ferris wheel.

“Ah,” TJ nodded sagely, “round and round the lesbians go, where they stop, nobody knows,”

Cyrus chuckled, holding out his dino. “Look what TJ won for me!”

Amber raised her brows, giving her brother a knowing look. “Wow, that’s really special. He must have really known you’d like that,”

“Well look at what Cyrus got me,” TJ said through gritted teeth, “it’s a basketball because he knows I love it,”

Andi looked between the two Kippens, trying to figure out what was going on. “Should we head towards the ferris wheel? Recreate that iconic scene,” she said, taking Amber’s hand and running to the line.

“I want that,” Cyrus sighed, hugging the dino to his chest sweetly.

“To go on the ferris wheel?” TJ nearly squeaks out, “yeah, let’s do it,” he says with the least amount of confidence possible.

Cyrus grabs TJ’s hand, tugging him along and catching up to Amber and Andi. The girls and Cyrus talked about the movie for a little while, Cyrus gushing about the lighting and the cinematography, while Amber just kept repeating the word ‘gay’ over and over.

When they got towards the front of the line, Cyrus handed the man tickets for him and TJ, and they both took their seats, their respective prizes on the outside of the seats. The man started the ride, and the boys weren’t even three feet on the ground when TJ squeezed his eyes shut.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you I’m afraid of heights?” he muttered, feeling something gentle rest on his hand that was gripping the bar for dear life.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Cyrus assured him, “open your eyes. You don’t have to look down, just look at me,”

TJ slowly fluttered his eyes open, the first thing he saw being Cyrus’ hand on his. His gaze trailed up to his face, meeting his eyes; gosh, he could drown in those.

“Hey,” Cyrus whispered, scooting a little closer to TJ.

“Hey,” TJ said back, heart pounding, his breath coming in quick breaths, not because of the ferris wheel. He’d forgotten that he was so high above the ground. “I’m kinda weak, aren’t I,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Cyrus frowned. “You know I’d love you no matter what,” he said, biting his tongue, “I mean, you know like, I-I love all my friends, like how friends love each other,” he stammered, exhaling.

“Oh. Yeah. Me too,” TJ replied, suddenly remembering he was on the ride, and clenching the bar a little tighter.

When they reached the bottom, TJ grabbed his basketball and flew off the seat. Cyrus took his dino, and walked off calmly, laughing as he caught up to TJ; the kind of laugh that made you dizzy with excitement. While TJ took a moment to catch his breath, Cyrus pulled out his phone and googled:

being loved no matter what

He opened his notes, and jotted down the word quickly so he wouldn’t forget.

naz: the pride that comes with knowing that you are loved no matter what you do

Amber and Andi stumbled off the ferris wheel, both laughing and smiling like two idiots.

“You two okay?” TJ asked, having regained his sense of safety.

“We’re good, just gay,” Amber supplied, squeezing Andi’s hand, “and also kind of tired and ready to go home,”

TJ nodded, turning to Cyrus. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Cyrus agreed, walking in the opposite direction with Andi, as Amber and TJ headed home.

“So how was your date?” Amber cooed, batting her lashes at her brother.

TJ pushed her, making her stumble a little. “It wasn’t a date,”

Amber stopped dead in her tracks, grabbing TJ by the wrist. “It was literally Love, Simon, you dumbass gay disaster,”

TJ rolled his eyes, tugging his arm away from her. “So, how was your date?”

Amber shrugged, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “It was a sort-of date. We both like each other but are trying to keep this under wraps, you know?”

TJ nodded. “Yeah, I know. . .mom stuff,”

“Speaking of which, what did you tell her about this ordeal?” Amber asked, the two of them rounding the corner and walking down the street.

“I said we were going to the fair, just you and me,” he supplied.

“We need a selfie to prove it,” Amber decided, “my phone’s dead,”

“Fine, fine, I guess we can use mine,” he mumbled, unlocking it and clicking through. He accidentally selected photos instead of camera, and the picture of him and Cyrus in the Christmas shop popping up. Just his luck.

Amber’s jaw dropped, making incoherent noises as TJ tried to close the image, but Amber was holding onto his phone like death. “Oh my gosh, you guys are literally so cute,” she finally said, nearly fangirling over the picture.

“I mean I already know that Cyrus is adorable so,” TJ shrugged, giving into the fact that Amber was never going to let this go.

“No, like, you guys are legitimate couple goals,”

“Not a couple,”

“Yet,” Amber replied, not missing a beat.

“So,” Andi started, plucking a fry from the basket, “you and TJ?”

Cyrus groaned, bringing his forehead down onto the table. “Why does everyone phrase it like that, like we’re dating! We’re not!”

Andi was taken aback, chewing on her fries in confusion. “I just meant that you guys were having a fun time here, but dating, okay, let’s go there,”

“Let’s not,” Cyrus pleaded, picking his head up.

“Too late,” Andi chuckled.

Cyrus pouted, crossing his arms. “I don’t wanna talk about ‘us’,” he groaned, using air quotes.

“I’m, like ninety-nine percent sure he likes you, Cy,” Andi insisted, drumming her fingers on the table, “have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“. . .yeah, right, whatever,” Cyrus mumbled, taking another fry from the basket.

“I’m serious,”

“Hush,”

“But do you like him?”

And there it was; the loaded question that was there lurking in the shadows, but now it was on full display. He really didn’t want to answer, because heck, he didn’t even know how to answer it. So he stayed silent.

“Aha! So you do like him!” Andi clapped her hands together.

“I never said that! TJ’s my best friend,” Cyrus defended, taking the last fry in defiance.

“Cyrus, be honest. You don’t think that there could be something more there?” she asked, searching his face for some sort of answer.

“. . .no,” Cyrus said meekly, almost like he was disappointed, but not quite. His voice didn’t wobble, and he said it with as much confidence as he could.

Andi shrugged, tossing the empty basket into the trash can. “Whatever you say,” she chirped, getting up from her seat, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cy,”

He gave her a wave as a good-bye, and turned his attention back to the ferris wheel, watching people go around and around. Couples, kids, parents with their little ones, all smiling and laughing. He sighed, silently hoping that one day he’d get to do that with someone special.

6/25

Today Cyrus and I went to the fair, and it was so much fun! I played a basketball game and won him a dinosaur, and he played a dart game and gave me the stuffed basketball he won. Well, in truth I helped him a little bit, but his face when I said ‘you did it!’ was priceless. We ran into Amber and Andi, and we all went on the ferris wheel. Admittedly, I’m afraid of heights, but Cyrus was there with me, telling me that things were okay, and to just look at him, which helped. I was worried he’d think I’m weak, but he said he’d love me no matter what. You know, like friends do.

TJ sighed, shutting his journal and setting it on his nightstand. That little moment had meant everything to him, and even if he wanted it to go further or mean something more, deep down, he knew it didn’t. It was just a thing friends said to each other, like when Amber would text Cyrus and end the conversation with ‘love you!’.

[Underdog <3: so for tmrw, there’s free painting classes where the art gallery was that day! do you wanna come?]

TJ smiled, butterflies erupting in his stomach no matter how hard he tried to quell them.

[Me: totally! when is it?]

[Underdog <3: around noon, sound good?]

[Me: i’m there]

TJ turned off the lamp on his nightstand, shutting his eyes and trying to go to sleep. But even though it was late, and he was relatively tired, he couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking of Cyrus. Thinking about what they ‘were’. Friends, he supposed. Best friends.

6/25

TJ and I went to the fair today and it was so much fun! He won me this giant dinosaur stuffed animal and I love it! It’s sitting in my chair in my room right now. I tried to win him a stuffed basketball with a game of darts, but he helped me so much that he basically won it. We saw Amber and Andi there, and then all four of us went on the ferris wheel and it was so much fun! It was kinda dark when we were at the top, but I could still see TJ’s green eyes. They’re pretty nice.

And there it was again; Cyrus focusing on TJ’s eyes. “It’s a normal thing,” he told himself, flipping to the back and jotting down the notes he’d written in his phone. Naz. What a lovely word to describe him and TJ. They would love each other no matter what. Love, like friends do, of course. Because that’s what they were.

Friends.

Tag List: @shortstackofpeaches || @seanna313 || @geekingbeautytx || @heavenlybyers || @ginnychrises|| @wlwandimack || @giocondasstuff || @lemonboytyrus || @adorejrizzle || @swingsetboys || @ifellintotyrushell || @idk-dude-17 || @rbf-lesbian || @marianara-sauce || @kaptainjinxz || @alex-poster-pizz || @quietmarvel || @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia || @broadwayitbitch || @tjsmuffin || @tjthekippen || @idpleasesir || @hi-hello-hey-there || @bingewatchingenthusiast|| @booklove-2 || @illbeyourreasonwhy || @birdiesandflowers || @whistlepunk || @phinallyjackie || @thedampjofangirl || @tyrus4eva || @tj-is-a-lemony-boy || @tj-goodman-bittersweet-boy || @dis-app-oin-tme-nt || @nessarinthegay || @breadisticks || @typewriter-riz || @gobletofash || @bluemuffinboy || @sofuuh || @cheesystars || @tjmuffin || @multifandom-bxitch || @allylovessadie || @hithatsmyname || @tyrusinarush || @tyrus-lookback ||

[merpuccino]

As a bisexual/pansexual person who for most of my life has presented as a cis woman and has been in out lesbian relationships, let me make some things absolutely clear:

Do not under any circumstances harass, cajole, plead with, or expect actors in tv shows and films to ‘make’ your favorite slash ships happen. That is not their responsibility and they are not ‘homophobic’ for not supporting your ship. They are also not their character and allowed to be straight in real life. If you do this type of crap you are straight up toxic and entitled. You are also embarrassing other people in the same fandom. You are giving fans a really bad name. It’s because of shit like this that actors feel really uncomfortable with fans or at cons. You are allowed to be sad when your ship doesn’t happen. But you DON’T take that out on actors.

Actors are also allowed to feel uncomfortable acting out romantic or erotic scenes between gay or lesbian characters. They do not ‘have’ to do anything. They are not homophobic for not being comfortable with certain things. I would NEVER expect a lesbian or gay actor to act out straight sex if they felt uncomfortable with it.

Writing slash fanfiction is not you doing something great for the lgbt community. Maybe some lgbt fans will read it and appreciate it (when it’s sensitively written) but fetishizing gay male sex is not ‘activism.’ Shipping two attractive white women in fanfiction or fan art is not radical strides for gay rights, sorry. By the way, some gay male couples don’t have anal sex. Some gay couples don’t have sex at all for a variety of reasons. Their relationship is still valid.

People have a right to say no. You can have whatever kinks you want. But insisting that other people accept or appreciate or even feel comfortable with your kink is another form of entitlement. Any artist or fanfic writer has a write to refuse to create works including your favorite ship or kink for ANY reason. They don’t owe you an explanation. There are MANY reasons why somebody might feel uncomfortable writing or drawing something with certain pairings/ships or certain romantic or erotic acts. You could be talking to someone who has had past trauma, etc. You never know. Please be considerate when making requests for written or artistic work.

[wololonowurgay]

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