#this is like complaining about how a gay bar is full of gay people

[caddeter]

A Public Service Announcement For the Entire RWBY Fandom

Or, at least: @asmallermorehonestsoul​

despite tagging it as #anti rwde

That still shows up in the tag because it contains ‘rvvde’ as its own word.  This is why I find posts tagged #Bioshock Infinite if I look up #Bioshock.  We’ve had this conversation with KKKoB and his ‘rvvde bullshit’ tag.

By this logic, you can’t complain about anything we have to say because we very clearly tag all our posts to let you know that it isn’t for you.  You also can’t complain about the fact that this post is tagged #anti rwby.  You don’t get to wave a flag in a park and then complain when people notice you.

Furthermore, that doesn’t matter.  The tags of a post are not the first thing someone browsing tumblr will look at.

And it is very hard to look through RWBY content without seeing them

If we are expected to ignore it when your posts wind up in our tag, why are you allowed to complain when our posts end up in your tag?  Especially when our tag is specifically meant to be blacklisted:

The first thing you want to do is click on the little person icon in the top-right corner and go to your setting.

After that, you scroll down to ‘Content You See’ and select the pencil next to ‘Filter Tags.’

Then, add the tag you want to filter out, in this case, ‘RWDE.’

There, done.  That should stop our posts from popping up whenever you search for things like RWBY.  I have tested this multiple times, it fucking works.* I tested this with the main tag, and I legit couldn’t look it up!

Now, true, we can easily do this with with your tags to remove them from our feed.  But that’s not the point.  We made this tag so that you could remove our complaints and criticisms of the show from your feed.  Not so you could have an easier time complaining about us.  You complain about how dark it is with a candle in one hand and a match in the other.

If expecting you to blacklist a tag is too much, why do you expect it of us?

Furthermore, if you expect us to curate our tags for your browsing conveniences, then please, do tell me:  What exactly do you want us to do?  Stop tagging our posts with RWBY?  Most of us already do that.

And as for ‘using our disabilities as a shield,’ I’ll let @dowhatteverer​ explain why that’s bunk.

*This does not work if you specifically go to blogs who are known to post content into the tags you have blacklisted, which I know for a fact the anti-criticism crowd does.

[st-dionysus]

(The Poem is named) Emetophobia CW

It’s 2024 and I’m in a 20 year old drag bar, watching the very first trans-masculine performer to compete on their stage, he gets second place even though he deserved first.

I show up to the men’s bathhouse on trans night to get free entry and get turned away at the door, and told it’s for transgirls only, bitch you could have put it on the flyer that transmen need not apply.

I’m doing a line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I get banned from the camsite for listing myself as transgender when I don’t have a dick, I complain online and get told that the trans-masculine body is to grotesque to be fetishized and I should be grateful.

I wear a packer and hitch up a skirt, walk the street, get $20, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Cissie puts a TW #body-mutilation tag under my thirst trap. Tranny puts a TW #dysphoria tag under my thirst trap.

T-girl with a callout post pedojackets me, Enby with TME in bio pedojackets me, T-boy with a self-deprecating joke about men in his bio pedojackets me.

I do another line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic wearing a mask – not cause I’m compromised (I am), just to hide my beard – avoiding making everyone uncomfortable.

I am getting re-diagnosed with BPD, which just means I have bitch disorder and no one trusts me.

I take my pills and throw them up. I drink my liquor before the beer and throw them up.

I am just 14 when the picture and videos go up. Remind me that I have it easy, they were only pictures and videos.

I am just 17 when the recording of my proof stops before it happens, my phone memory is full, I’m called a liar and now I can’t see buttered crackers, thanksgiving, or sriracha sauce without wanting to kill myself.

No one gets me therapy, but they still want to convert me, she puts her hands down my pants, at least I’m 19, to remind me I’m a woman – tell me how they love trans men again.

I do a third line of ketamine off the table, realize it doesn’t effect me, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I call myself a dog, I start biting my lovers and I have to hold back from ripping out a chunk of flesh, I don’t think I’d throw it up.

I am reading the statistics, 40% of BPD patients try and kill themselves. 1 in 2 transgender men try and kill themselves. I’m one of them. I’m 12 and I swallowed all the pills. I’m 14 and the gun is empty. I’m 17 and I put the box-opener against my throat. Therapist calls me a liar, there is no scar, and my words don’t count for anything.

I’m using he/him pronouns for Stormé DeLarverie, like the stonewall veteran association said to, and telling you he started the riot, calling it stealing transfem valor from a woman who told you she didn’t fucking do it.

I’m shoving my fingers down my throat in a fit of mania, convinced I can vomit up my uterus. She tells me I should be grateful, she’d do anything to be able to get pregnant.

My brother in the struggle gets bottom surgery without top, calling it stealing transfem valor to feel comfortable in his body.

It’s 2024 and I’m at trans pride, the announcers tells everyone to give a round of applause for trans woman, a round of applause for gender-queers, a round of applause for transfems, a round of applause for the enbies, a round of applause for trans-masculine people. You forgot someone. Did you know a trans man started the first ever transgender pride parade?

A book on queer history talks about gay men and lesbians and trans women and the women who dressed as men for better job opportunities. I’m reminded that my invisibility is a privilege, if you aren’t seen you don’t get bashed.

I’m 13 and they throw me in the girls bathroom, pin me down, beat me, and in black sharpie write “dyke”, write “tranny”, write “lesbo”, and pull my hair out the cap I shoved it in.

I’m 19 with D cups that a binder can’t hide and a beard I refuse to shave less I break the mirror and kill myself with the shards of glass I would swallow.

Man at the bus stop calls me tranny and tells me I’ll never be a woman. I’d laugh if he didn’t have his hand on my throat. Calling it stealing transfem valor.

I’m 21 and have to pull a taser on him, cause from the back, even with short hair and top surgery, I look rape-able.

I’m 23 and in the gay district when they chase me down the street, calling me faggot.

Make another forcemasc post, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Read an article about a trans man prostitute that kills himself and ends up another female statistic.

Read an article about a trans man shooter, they blame the HRT he didn’t have access too.

Going to read a callout about me, five pages on Google Docs, does this post make it on the list?

Do a final line of ketamine, write the final line of a poem that makes me want to die, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I puke and miss the toilet.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Meet Me at the Bar

Written for @steddieangstyaugust day 8: Miscommunication. I got stuck on this one, but I'm finishing the list, one by one.

"I hope you get over that quickly."

That was it. A simple sentence that blew up their friendship. Eddie never told Steve that they were done, but he could feel the coldness, the growing distance between them. They acted civil for the sake of their friends when they met, but there were no more late talks over beers, no Eddie barging in at various times during the night to complain about his life in Hawkins, his job in a garage, his future, and of course, his love life.

It was the latter that caused the rift, and Steve never really understood what he did wrong. They were sitting together as usual, chatting about how everything everywhere sucked, how customers are the worst people to ever exist, and then suddenly Eddie's tone changed. He admitted to Steve that one of the reasons why he hated Hawkins was that he couldn't be himself, not as he is. That he had a coworker at the garage, slightly older than him, and he'd been developing a crush on him for the last few months. That was how he fully admitted to himself he was gay.

He tried to give it time and space, but given that Eddie's brain was always speeding five miles ahead of his good judgment, he tried to raise the issue. Gently. Inconspicously.

Which ended up in a full blown proposal and even more full blown rejection, nearly bordering on violent.

That is how Eddie ended up on Steve's couch and with majority of Steve's alcohol in his system. Steve had already expressed to Steve that nothing is going to change between them, that the guy sucked for reacting that way. And then he told Eddie - "I hope you get over that quickly." He hated seeing Eddie so dejected.

There must have been something to his words that Eddie understood differently. He froze in his alcohol haze, blinked several times - were those tears? But before Steve could check, Eddie excused himself, and no matter what Steve said, he wouldn't talk about anything past "it's too late" and "I need to sleep it off, I feel like a walking brewery."

Just like that, their friendship was gone.

Eddie soon moved away, and Steve? Steve slowly watched everyone who he loved abandon him. He waited in Hawkins until it was nothing but old memories and empty streets, and then he decided - why not. He'd held the fort for long enough.

He packed his bags and moved to Indianapolis the following week.

Steve often thought about his friendship with Eddie, about how he missed his wild smile, his constant stream of trivia and outrageous ideas. It was only when he saw what life could have been in Indy, stolen glances and hidden kisses in dark alleys, that he realized - huh. Maybe we were similar.

Steve found a bar to…explore. He didn't want to admit or label anything yet, he just went there to see if he was right. The same evening, he was pressed against a dirty wall, felt the stubble against his chin as he was being kissed with more passion he'd ever felt in his life. Yep, definitely similar.

He didn't look for anything serious, not yet anyway. Finding out who he was, that was scary. But sharing his whole life with a stranger, letting them into his home, his heart? That was way scarier. He liked what he had - going for a drink once or twice a week, a quick makeout session, maybe a bit more if he was lucky. It was all fine.

At least until the day when a painfully familiar figure sat himself down next to Steve at the bar. "Well well well. King Steve, in such an establishment? Color me shocked."

Steve opened his mouth and wanted to say so many things. Something like, I missed you, I'm sorry for whatever I did, are you safe? But they all froze on his tongue when he saw Eddie's face. It wasn't playful or happy. It was just bitter.

"Hi Eddie," he said weakly. "Didn't know you came around here."

Eddie didn't even spare him a look, he just waved at the bartender and ordered a drink. "Oh, I don't. I mean, I frequent another one, you know. Closed for some dumb reason, so here I am. I'm surprised to see you here though - isn't it just a tad hypocritical?"

"It's…what?"

"You know," he drawled out and finally turned to meet Steve's eyes. Steve'd never felt so hated in his life. "After that all "I hope you get over it" thing?"

Steve almost choked on his beer. "How the fuck is it hypocritical to wish for your friend to get over a heartbreak?"

"Oh, is that what it was?" Eddie's voice could cut steel. "Because it sounded a bit more like "phew, he got rejected, now let's go back to pretending you're straight for everyone's convenience". Because that's the best option, right?"

Steve drew a shaky breath and finally set his beer glass down. He took in Eddie's angry eyes, his trembling voice. This wouldn't do.

He reached for Eddie's hands, refusing to get deterred by his flinch. He grasped both of them and leaned close to Eddie. "Eddie. Man, I don't understand why you'd think that, but if I made you feel like that, then I'm sorry. Really. Even if you find it hard to believe me, that's all it was - we were drunk, you were telling me about this asshole who threatened you over you liking him, and I was just thinking - I hope Eddie gets over it soon, because he's my friend and he's great. And he deserves someone who loves him unconditionally."

Eddie didn't look so angry anymore. His hands grew still in Steve's and his eyes seemed glassy. Steve wanted to reach out and catch all the tears before they fell. "Steve, I…shit, I really thought-"

"It's okay. It's fine, because I got to tell you in the end. I hoped you'd get over it - so that someone better could have you."

"Someone like you?" Eddie laughed, phrased it as a joke, but it really wasn't. Not to Steve.

He smiled at Eddie and wiped away the rogue tear. "I wish. Back then, I still didn't know. Or maybe I did, but couldn't really admit it, you know? Everything around me was changing so fast and I didn't feel ready to do the same. But I think it was always you who made me wonder. Who made me think that being different wasn't so bad. But even if it couldn't be me, I wanted you to be loved and cherished, like you deserved." After a brief eh, fuck it moment, he added, "And now it can be me. If that means anything." 

Eddie finally found back his voice. Clearing his throat, he squeezed Steve's hand back and straightened his back. "Before I say anything more stupid, just answer me this one thing, Harrington - are you as painfully single as little old me?"

Steve laughed so hard he thought he cracked a rib for a second. "Agonizingly so."

Eddie batted his eyelashes at Steve, doing a very poor impression of one of Steve's many conquests back in Hawkins. "Oooh, big words. I like that in a man." Then, in his normal voice: "That's all I wanted to know. Buy me a drink, Harrington? We have a lot of catching up to do."

Steve had never reached for his wallet so fast in his life. 

Something shifted between them. It still wasn't okay, they had a lot of talking to do, but it was a start. A new beginning. And for that moment, it was enough.

[trashbag-baby666]

ceo!john and assistant!gale au head canons!

Brought to you by me and @skyyguy (nsfw under the cut)

mota masterlist!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•John is the 31 year old heir to the Jack Daniel’s fortune and company. He’s unhappily married to a woman he isn’t sure he ever loved. They both have spent their entire marriage cheating on each other and avoiding the other.

•Gale is a ftm femme trans college student looking to get his foot in the door anywhere to make an adequate amount of money. He feels lost in his life like he’s wandering aimlessly waiting for something to happen.

•Gale and John initially meet at the Velvet Lounge, a high end gay bar. Gale bartends there and John was looking for a change of scenery. Find a new place, maybe a new guy or three to sleep with to fill his void.

•But the bartender seems to do just the trick for him.

•Gales in his stiff dark, royal purple tuxedo vest over his white, freshly pressed button down. Truthfully, he hated bartending but he made a decent salary here and good tips so he couldn’t really complain.

•He spent his evening mixing drinks and fetching beer for the wealthiest lgbt’s of the area. Or the ones just looking for a nicer night out then the place a couple blocks down.

•John had sat quietly as to not disturb Gales flow of work until he wanted another whiskey.

•The two get to chatting when it slows down for awhile.

•Next thing John knows he’s waiting in the single stall bathroom for Gale to finish his shift.

•To put it in terms, John nailed Gale into the bathroom wall.

•John, needs a new assistant so he tells Gale to send him his resumé if he wants a job that pays him more.

•So he hires Gale as his new personal assistant.

•The first three months they keep their relationship strictly professional…and because John, finally filed for divorce…

•John doesn’t want Gale to think he hired him just because he’s attractive. He could see from Gales Resumé that he was a smart boy. He excelled in all of his university classes and previous jobs.

•He waits until Gale makes the first initial step towards a sexual relationship again.

•It’s hot and steamy I’ll tell you that much.

•John starts knocking things off his desk, accidentally, so Gale has to bend over in his pencil skirt. John just sits back and enjoys his view, the tight skirt hugging his ass.

•Gale puts on as much as a show as possible when he does it too.

•Their main hookup spot is in the top floor’s storage closet. They’re not even the only people who use it…

•When John gets braver, he pushes his hand up Gales skirt in the middle of meetings and begin to play with him.

•John calls in Gale during some meetings to get him all flustered infront of his colleagues.

•Gales favorite, is when John breaks out the remote control vibrator in the lace panties…

•John makes Gale bring him and the others in the conference room coffee. Everytime he leans over to give someone their coffee, John activates it. Gale has to do everything in his power to bite down on his tongue and keep himself composed. He’s trying so hard for his knees to not give out on him as John turned on a high pulsating setting.

•Gales absolutely nearly soaked through, he’s worried it’s going to show through his skirt. John sends him out and messages him to meet in the closet after the meeting.

•I’m sure we all know how that went.

•Gale’s T dick, enlarged and throbbing inside John’s lips. The man putting on a show of stringing him out, although he’s already came twice.

•They lay there after for almost a full hour before getting up. Gale’s exhausted and can barely keep his eyes open let alone even thinking about walking around after that.

-

-

More to come soon :3 <33

-

Taglist: @austeenbootler @coastiewife465 @executethyself35 @slowsweetlove

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

If there’s one thing Casey McQuiston can do is write extra, post-canon, chapters

“God, she's happy. The weather is glorious, people are good, her motorcycle is sexy. It's one of those days when she is just explosively thankful to be alive and in love and gay in New York City.”

“Jane likes Wes a lot. He reminds her of the moody Bushwick boys she used to see at the quieter bars, the ones who only smoked cloves and complained they' d been born a few years too late to be a beatnik. It's the scowl, she thinks, and the air of perpetual malaise. And the mysterious gift for landing the hottest drag queens in the scene.”

“Jane has known she liked girls for a long, long time. Even when she forgot everything else about herself, she remembered English, Cantonese, and being a lesbian. It's never been worth fighting, not for anyone else's sake, but she did sometimes wish things were different. When she watched her dad trudge up the stairs at the end of a long day and into her mom's arms, she'd wished it was posible for her to know that feeling one day, to have a good woman waiting at home.

August is a good woman.”

“She'd always felt happiest and most loved when she was part of something bigger,”

“That night was the first time she ever slept with a woman. She remembers how revelatory it felt, like searching for a word in one language and realizing it only exists in another. Like her whole life she’d had this perfect thing inside her, this thing that had an exact purpose, that would make sense of everything, and she'd been looking for it wrong until that moment.

She wrote: I was on top of her, figuring out how many ways I could make her feel good, and I thought, "I like girls," which is pretty fucking far from groundbreaking for me, but my next thought was, "I love liking girls," and that was a thought i've never had before. I might have fallen a little bit in love with Ann then, the way I think you should fall in love with your first for at least one night. But I completely and permanently fell in love with the way it feels to make love to a woman.”

“The broader she tries to go, the less it's going to feel true. All these small, specific moments, this patchwork of a million faces and voices and hands and street corners and plates of food and songs and fleeting connections—she keeps trying to zoom out of them, but that's where she loses the details. Love is the meal, and love is the ingredients, and love is the whisk and the fire and the order in the window and the reason it came. She can't separate any part from the whole.”

“Life in the future isn't perfect by a longshot, especially not for people like her. There's so much that's still wrong with the world and so many reasons to look over her shoulder every time she walks down the street. But tonight, she's thankful for this. The scrabble forward, the good changes, and always, even now, a basement full of people who'll take her as she came.”

“But the longer she knew August, the longer she loved her, the more she understoad why those girls could never have been for her. Every one of them had only a piece of what she was looking for. A surly disposition here, a pair of glasses there—every girl she’d ever loved for a night or a week or a month had a shadow of August in her.”

“I was standing on a street that felt like home, she wrote, but I didn't have to hide my haircut or change my clothes to save my family from the gossip. It didn’t even matter if any of those aunties had something to say about me. Mom would never know. I loved it.”

“She wants to have the right words, the right attitude, the right gravity to be worthy of what people see in her, but some days she just wants to pick a stupid fight in the grocery store, and some days she wants to do nothing but learn to make a chocolate tart. She's only ever been one person doing what she had to do to survive. Just Biyu, just Jane.”

“Before the Q, Jane never thought she'd be part of any institution recognized by the state, least of all a wedding. Sure, she attended commitment ceremonies in basements and backyards, manned the patio grill while two boys from down the street slow danced under a magnolia tree and the washed-up hippie officiant burned incense to bless their union. Every time, the experience sang hot and sweet in her veins for days after, the way defiant acts of love between her friends always did. But every time, something told her this would never be hers. Probably, she figured, because she never allowed herself to stay with the same girl for more than a month.”

"You started saving for a ring—?"

"Right after I moved in, yeah.”

"If you ask Myla to explain electrical energy." Jane says, winking at the gleam that appears in Myla's eye, "the first thing she'll tell you is that it can't be created or destroyed. Love is like that too. It can be reshaped a million different ways. It can be as big and as impossible to understand as the universe, and it can be as simple as sitting on the other end of the same telephone line, not even saying anything. But in my experience, it'll never be small, and it'll never be short, and it sure as hell won't ever leave you. All it does is find a new place inside you to live, or a new channel to broadcast out of you. It carries you out when the house is falling down. It's the reason why anything good happens, and it's all those good things put together, the picture they make when you step back and really look. Love makes sense of everything. Love makes you real.”

[fartlovingblkguy69]

The Little Men’s Toilet Slave Part 1

(Fictional Gay Fart and Scat Story)

I was drunk and walking through an alley of empty warehouses in Atlanta coming back from the bar one night at night when I passed a building that seemed to have much coming from inside and I heard this strange noise! It sounded like a cross between a grunt and a howl! I went inside to be nosy and to help if need be. Lo and behold it looked like an orgy, but not just any orgy. This was an orgy of about 30 little men. And they were filming! The tallest man, who was standing in the middle of the room was 4’9 with black hair and green eyes and he seemed to be directing all of the scenes. I realized they were about to make a killing as this was a growing category of porn and many of them were unbelievable hot! I felt myself getting a boner, one of the hardest I’d ever gotten, my full 8 inches rising. I fiddled with my jeans and started to jerk my hard rod when the taller man turned and noticed me. “What the fuck? Who let you in here? Stop fucking and grab him and bring him over here ” he yelled. A bunch of them ran over and took me out at the knees before carrying me over the heads and throwing me down at his feet. “What the hell did you think you were doing? Were you spying on us? Maybe trying to scope out competition for another group? And why were you jerking off? You like what you see or something? Maybe you’re one of those weirdos that fetishize little people or something.” “No, I was just passing by when I heard you guys and thought someone might be in trouble so I came to help! I’m gay and you guys are hot! It has nothing to do with you being small, I swear!” “I’m not sure I believe you! And after what you’ve seen we can’t let you leave! You might have a recording or call the cops or something.” “Hey Kyle! Let’s stomp on him! We could crush up his bones and bury him or something! There’s a landfill nearby!” one of the ones currently standing above me chimed in. He was about 3’9, blond, with a hairy chest, rock hard abs, a thick happy trail, and a 5 inch long, 2 inch thick half hard dick. He was super hot, but He’d been glaring at me this whole time with hard icy blue eyes like he wanted to kill me. It was very intimidating. “Hmm maybe. That would certainly be a fun idea. I think I have a better one tho!” the director Kyle said as his stomach gurgled loudly and he winced. He rubbed his stomach and loudly proclaimed “you guys have all been complaining about not being taken seriously by society and also about the lack of bathrooms in this place and I think we might have just found a small, well pretty big solution to both!” Now for context I’m a 6’3 pretty muscularly built white guy, albeit with a bit of a belly. I have long curly brown hair that comes halfway down my back. I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Just what the hell is this guy suggesting anyway? I was about to find out! “Take him to the bathroom and tie him down with his head over that broken toilet! He’s gonna be the replacement!” Kyle said smiling while rubbing his very hairy muscular, but not ripped stomach. I’ll use him first and show you all how it’s done! You better get ready toilet! I got a big load coming your way! We’ve been here for hours and I’ve been munching on pizza and nachos and chugging coffee and protein shakes and I’m lactose intolerant! It’s gonna be a wet ride!” I was dragged to the broken toilet which was dirty and clogged already and watched as they wiped the toilet seat off and cleaned it before flushing the toilet to make the water rise and then plunging my head down yelling “Drink, drink, drink!” trying to make me drink this murky water with a huge turd at the bottom. I refused to open my mouth preferring to drown to death but alas they would pull me up every time I started to black out! This went on for a good 25 minutes before Kyle came in pushing people out of his way, saying, “It’s time! I gotta let this nasty shit rip! My stomach is killing me! I can’t hold it anymore and the filming space is basically uninhabitable from my noxious farts! You boys don’t want me to hold this a second longer, trust me!”

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Cities

I know Remus is technically a Cardiff boy, okay? But humour me and let me make him from tiny little Llanwrtyd Wells please??

Imagine living on the end of the earth.

Take that and combine it with the terrestrial rain every other day, and it’s Remus Lupin’s home. A small, hidden Welsh town called Llanwrtyd Wells.

Living in buttfuck nowhere meant that you knew everybody and everybody knew you.

Everybody.

When Remus had his first kiss, old ass Mrs Davies nudged him and said ‘well done’ the next day.

Still, it had its perks. Like not having to come out to his mum, because there were approximately two other gay guys in town, and while Osian wasn’t a bad kisser, he wasn’t quite prepared to date someone who went on and on about how much he loved his small town and basically didn’t say anything else. Also, the nights being quiet. If they happened to have a heatwave (once in a millennia) he could sleep with the window wide open, without worrying about cars speeding past, or getting robbed. Bar the few teenagers in Remus’ classes that liked to shoplift (until one of them got a slap around the head from Arwen for robbing her mum) or vandalise a building from time to time, people were too close for there to be much criminal activity.

It also meant that when Hope finally kicked Lyall out, there was no way he could stay in town. The people had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome back.

Yeah, Remus loved the town, and the people in it.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t excited when he got into Oxford on a full scholarship. A big fuck off English city and a prestigious ass university! Also, a chance to live in a big city, finally.

He wasn’t expecting to find the first 5 minutes so hard. The moment he got off the bus, he realised that in Oxford, people barged into each other without a sniff of an apology, just walking quickly through one another. Also, why was it so big? Remus could blink in the wrong place and he’d be lost! Eventually, he gave up on trying to navigate the overwhelming maze of buildings and roads, getting a ridiculously expensive Uber instead.

Checking in was stressful, getting his key and his ID and finding his flat was stressful.

He had an awful start to a city life.

Everything smelled like petrol fumes, he could hear the cars through the window, everything was grey. Remus had almost thought he had made a mistake.

The first perk of Oxford? His roommates.

James Potter was essentially a big ball of energy who somehow knew the city like the back of his hand, even though he wasn’t from Oxford, so he didn’t have to worry about getting lost. He would smile and talk and somehow make sure everybody felt included at the same time. He had stopped Remus from snapping at everybody and breaking down on his first day.

Peter Pettigrew was from a smaller town in Devon, Clovelly, so he and Remus had plenty of time to complain about the differences between towns and cities. Peter kept Remus sane, making him feel like he wasn’t really odd for not being able to sleep in the city, with all of it’s noise, or exchanging an amused glance at the fact that every building was identical.

Sirius Black was…

Sirius Black deserved an entirely separate perk dedicated to him.

He was the example of a hot Londoner. Christ, with his long, flowing black hair and silver eyes… Remus figured out very early on that he was falling for him, that much was obvious.

Still, he had never really been around someone he fancied before, not when he was falling so hard and fast. Tripping and stumbling from liking him to loving him before he had a chance to catch his balance. Honestly, the last thing he had expected was to fall in love with a Londoner who could sleep through aggressive evening construction, had a posh as shit accent and could look at a train map and just… understand it.

He was well and truly fucked.

Until he realised that Sirius got jealous when other people flirted with him. The revelation that came at the third perk of a big city: a lot of places to get drunk. As it turned out, Remus was the right kind of tall and broad shouldered to be considered desirable to city people. Specifically, to city men, which wasn't something that Remus was at all used to. He had never had to learn to put on a charm, a filter.

More specifically, he couldn't flirt to save his fucking life. That meant he essentially just had to stand and nod while guys talked at him.

Well, until Sirius swooped in one day and snogged him senseless in the middle of the dance floor in a gay club. Then he didn't have to worry about flirting, he was Sirius', nothing but Sirius'.

The city was the fucking best. Without the city, he wouldn't have met Sirius.

Still, his small town was perfect for making his city boyfriend visit over the summer. It was pretty much the highlight of his life.

Sirius was the perk of every city he was in.

[adelaidedrubman]

4, 8, 10, 18 for the pride asks for both (or just one you think it's more relevant to) of ur far cry girlies

TY BELOVED these were great ones to think about and i did do each question for each girlie and am sorry, as always, for the long answers 💕

4. Is your oc's environment supportive about their identity? How does this impact them?

of all the reason she’s locally hated, bisexuality isn’t top of anyone’s list. although actually on second thought a significant portion of the hope county population has probably looked at johnjess and said “huh, i think i’m biphobic now.”

but in all seriousness there is ofc a montana circa 2018 level of biphobia in her life mandated by the setting. mostly only passing reference as far as what’s actually on the page because that’s the only capacity in which it’s fun for Me, The Author to explore it. and because jestiny doesn’t hang out with straight people. which also is really only because as god of the universe i decide every character from canon i like enough to write about must in some way be not cishet. i’ve done many cruel things to mary may, but i won’t do that

and as for family of origin, jestiny certainly did not receive much support. her parents and extended family were mostly bible belt evangelicals and took that to heart, so. not a lot of pride flags hung up in the windows growing up.

that being said, her extended family never really learned she was bisexual because she never voluntarily socialized with them, so they never knew they had anything to disapprove of. in part because her parents’ open disapproval mostly took the I Pretend I Do Not See It/this is one of her many Difficult Phases form of biphobia. this isn’t a problem because it isn’t really happening, and if it is she’ll grow out of it. teenage jestiny stomping through the house screaming “BYE everyone i’m going out on A DATE with my GIRLFRIEND who i KISS WITH TONGUE because i LIKE WOMEN AND MEN” and her mother saying “that’s great sweetie i’m glad you’re finally making some gal pals and developing a positive attitude tell the boys you’re going on your double date with to have you back before curfew” (she goes no contact with her father and never tells her mother anything about her personal life in adulthood so to them this is where it left off forever)

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

nothing that deep. it was probably a very easy childhood trip to the library to get on the computer and go “google am i gay quiz. whoa bisexual you can do that?? ok that’s out of the way. wikipedia chinook salmon” for her. and her natural contrarian disposition has helped keep her from internalizing most of the bigotry she was taught she should be internalizing. those signs won’t stop her because she can’t read etc.

10. Does your oc celebrate Pride? How?

idk why my first thought was that sasuke fic line like “i don’t dance! what’s pride what do they have to be proud of?” anyways yeah every year she goes to the bars with rainbow flags to pick up chicks and bi men then gets piss mad about the place being full of overpriced rainbow shots that are mostly water and food dye and Straight Allies and yells and complains and leaves belligerently announcing she’s going to go actually celebrate pride by catching rainbow trout if you even care. local bisexual woman finds a way to get less ass during pride month than any other month of the year

4. Is your oc's environment supportive about their identity? How does this impact them?

copy paste what i said above about montana circa 2018 but substitute lesbophobia. although ig 2018 jenna would be experiencing less of it on the day to day since her primary social circle is eden’s “We Like Gay” gate. which brings us to yes, her primary canon environment is supportive.

prior to her time in the project her main environment was academic institutions in the greater san francisco area so. yes, she was assured, constantly, very loudly, of how approving her environment was, like the most approving place on earth, basically perfect, and they’re waiting for her applause. (that being said being where she was did give her above average opportunities to connect with other queer people and find a personal community she gelled with.)

as for her family of origin, this is the one part of her life her parents are unconditionally supportive about. “mom, dad: i’m a lesbian�� -> “yay, good to know!” vs. “mom, dad: i’m switching career fields from the natural to the social sciences” -> screaming crying throwing up how could you disappoint your family like this what will we tell people where did we go wrong. also they have disapproved of every woman she’s ever brought home but never for the being a woman thing.

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

nah, identity is a very flexible and mostly social communication thing for jenna in general so there’s never been a lot of identity formation drama for her, including wrt gender and sexuality. which isn’t to say she doesn’t reflect on it, but it’s more intellectualizing than struggling to come to terms with anything about herself. same with external challenges, she perceives them but intellectualizes it without taking much to heart or feeling any type of way about it, as is her wont.

10. Does your oc celebrate Pride? How?

she does, jenna has a lot of appreciation for cultural observations and attending sociql events in general, so. if there’s a big pride event near her she’s probably stopping by, albeit often more as a spectator than as an active participant celebrating herself and her community. but she shows up, and may put a pride flag in her window

AAAAAAAND FOR GENERAL:

18. Do you prefer to give your ocs specific labels, or keep it unspecified? Why? If applicable, do you change their labels depending on circumstance?

i usually define them with whatever is the best familiar term available in character descriptions even if they tend not to define themselves with the same terminology or wouldn’t specificy at all in universe. i don’t always have a character’s sexuality nailed down on day one, but some form of wlw is the default starting point bc write what you know and want to see more of and such. so far i don’t have any ocs that have been adapted for vastly different universes, so i haven’t had to think about whether to change labels to reflect changed circumstances.

also for the record, i would write a straight oc if their being straight was really necessary to the plot or they were a funny side character or something

[songliili]

writing patterns!!

tagged by @father-salmon, merci mon coeur!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

i don't even have 10 fics posted, literally. i'm gonna take two from my wips cause one of the posted is a collection of drabbles and i don't think that qualifies.

from oldest to newest, let's go.

you should floss more | T, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 15k

The thing is. Dean Winchester is not a teenager who doesn’t know how to act in front of hot people. He’s 32 and his reputation as a player says otherwise. He’s pretty smooth (most of the time), it comes with knowing his charming points and having no qualms in using them with women and men alike. In his younger years he liked to say he had a big heart and his mission was to give some love to as many people as possible. But once his 30s approached he started thinking it was time to settle down and he slowly stopped picking up people at dive bars, much to Sam’s relief.

You're a witch, Dean-o! | T, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 7k

When Dean is 25, a couple of things happen. The first one is, obviously, his birthday party: a full blown party organized by Mary and Ellen at the Roadhouse. The whole family is there and they have the time of their life. Dean even manages to convince Lisa to go home with him, which he's got nothing to complain about.

the great dean court off | M, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 21.5k

Of all the things Dean Wichester expected to find when he came back from the bathroom break, a folded piece of paper with ‘hey, if you’re not gay, my friend thinks you’re cute. here’s her number 316-557-9608 (and if you’re gay, here’s mine 316-997-2018)’ written on, was not it. Hell, he almost expected to not find his laptop.

I Had Some Time (With You) | E, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 23.9k

It's 2005 when things go to hell. Well. They go to hell for everyone except Dean, ‘cause he was ready for it. You see, Dean Winchester is a grumpy 36 year old paranoid bastard who spent a) the first 27 years of his life keeping up with his doomsday prepper of a father, until the bastard kicked the bucket in ‘96; b) his whole adult life running Chitaqua’s Survival Camp, that his father had started; and c) the last five years building the perfect apocalypse bunker in one of the cabins of said camp.

we all have a hunger | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, 22.9k

Alex Claremont-Diaz, for all intents and purposes, is a smart person. He aced high school, he aced college, and he aced law school. He knows he is smart, and if that wasn’t enough, Nora once confirmed it. Sure, she also said that he’s just as dumb when it comes to, y’know, being perceptive, but beggars can’t be choosers; and actually, that doesn’t count because Nora was just getting back at Alex for not realizing she was dating his sister and they weren’t just best friends.

Fill My Stocking | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, 22.9k

It’s silly, Henry thinks, that Alex is convinced of not being an open book for him by now. They’ve been together for three years, four if you count the one they spent as long distance friends with benefits, and Henry knows him and his tells pretty extensively. Alex’s media face might be blank and unknowable for other people, but not for Henry, who knows him and all his facets.

we started at the end | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, ???

Henry’s alarm rings, as expected, at 8am on December 21st and, as usual, Henry blindly reaches for his phone to turn it off and then roll back to sleep, until his next alarm in ten minutes. Though, this time, there is a difference in his morning routine.

your body is the Sistine Chapel |  T, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 3.7k

The first tattoo Dean Winchester gets is an ugly stick-and-poke with one of his 'friends' from the school he's been at for two months. They're sixteen and Ryan has an uncle with a tattoo shop, so he steals some ink, a couple of needles, and they spend the afternoon hiding behind the school gym giving each other shitty tattoos.

bro, you're fucking hung! | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, 3k

n💖💜💙 @hollerinn514 · Jan 20 oh my fucking god alex and henry are having an argument on who would top if they were a couple i shit you not alex just said “i think my dick is bigger so i'd top” i just know henry's face went fire engine red

can i ask you a question? | ??? (it's probably gonna be E, let's be honest), Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, ???

“Henry!” Henry’s head shoots up as he hears his name in Bea’s melodic voice, and smiles, closing the distance between him and his older sister. 

alright this is all i have. you can clearly see that the first four had a thing going on and it was fully intentional. i think i realised when i was writing You're a witch, Dean-o! then idk, i think i just didn't remember. i would've kept it up if i did, i would've found a way to make things work in the new fics as well. but it is what it is. maybe i'll go back to it one day!

---

no pressure random tags: @leojfitz @happiness-of-the-pursuit @read-and-write- @gayrootvegetable @littlemisskittentoes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @firenati0n @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @cactusdragon517 @rockyroadkylers @kiwiana-writes @user-anakin @inexplicablymine @anincompletelist and whoever else wants to play this game!!

[br1ghtestlight]

Have you done Mr.Ambrose headcannon yet?

If not then...headcannons?

🏠 <- this is my home, I live in your asks

NO I HAVE NOT EVEN THOUGH HE IS MY FAVORITE GAY FREAK <\3

he is queer Definitely gay but he's flexible about women in the right situation?? borderline delusional and thinks every straight guy wants him SO BAD (nobody wants him except Me) also he's nonbinary and uses he/she/they pronouns but he doesnt really care he's ambivalent to gender he doesnt give a fuck what u call him

he is a drag queen and does performances at gay bars on the weekends and gets STUPID drunk after he performs. he is shockingly good at doing makeup and costuming. in a better world he wouldve done costumes and wardrobe in hollywood movies

he majored in english when he was in college bcuz he wanted to be either a screenwriter for hollywood movies (fun fact his voice actor directed and acted in a gay romcom and i think thats the kind of thing ambrose would pretend he's too cool for but secretly enjoy) or a novelist (he still writes in his free time) but neither of those worked out as actual jobs so he settled for elementary school librarian. even though he hates kids so much and isnt technically qualified but they were desperate when they hired him

he doesn't have a relationship with anyone in his family like if he died tomorrow everything he owned would go to his dog. his parents were just terrible shitty people and he doesn't get along with them at all refuses to attend family events if they're there. he doesn't talk to his extended family either but he's happier this way!!!! maybe he didnt have a great childhood its not like he would ever talk about it with anyone except for occasionally his roommate when they're up late and he gets very drunk

i also feel like he's either an only child or a younger brother who was always compared to his older sibling but no way his ass is an older sibling SORRY

his roommate is a lesbian and he's gay which is why they live together. no chance of catching feelings (this was agreed upon when they moved in together)

without a doubt he is a functioning alcoholic mostly bcuz he refuses to deal with any of his mental health problems or talk about them with anyone. its going great for him dw

sometimes he likes dressing up in feminine clothing and makeup just for fun and bcuz it makes him feel confident and its a different look than normal. he usually stays home and its just around his roommate but if he feels up to it he WILL be the sluttiest gay at the grocery store or dmv

his full name is william ambrose but he prefers people call him by his last name even outside of a school setting. i think william would be a traditional family name from his great great etc grandfather and he's like ughh im not going to carry the LEGACY of some random dead guy who doesn't even give a shit about me who do you think i am

he is definitely the type to watch shitty reality tv like the bachelor or love island and complain about how stupid everyone is being but also he LOVES the drama and watches every episode. he auditioned once for the gay version of the bachelor but they rejected him and he's still pissy about that if you bring it up

he claims he knows which students at wagstaff are going to grow up to be queer bcuz of his gaydar and he mostly says it to the other teachers in the teachers lounge as a joke but also he is slightly protective of them and won't take bullying from ANYONE if he hears them talking shit there will be an anonymous complaint to the principal. they are his little gay ducklings (gene would be in this category although he's slightly too annoying for ambrose to like him)

[genderqueer-miharu]

Tbh i still think a lot of things are being ignored about kazui. The current interpretation people have of him doesn't necessarily sit right with me because it still kinda makes him look better in conparison to the other characters, and when it comes to milgram i'm wary when people make certain characters look either better than others or worse than others prioritizing a certain interpretation of that character above others. This happened with haruka and mu which is why they're now guilty but it also happens the other way around with yuno, mahiru and kazui, especially yuno who a lot of people keep doing the exact thing she complained about in her first interrogation and through the entirety of her second trial, creating an idealized and accepatable version of her in order to decide wether what she did was wrong or not while ignoring a bunch of things in both her videos, something that she also mentioned to Es during her vd. Like these characters are not irredeemable monsters who deserve to suffer for their actions but they're also not just sweet and kind people who just made mistakes and therefore should be forgiven, and it's not fair to just look at one extreme of their characters and running along with it.

And i'm not even against the current theory of kazui being gay, because i do at least think he liked the bartender guy, but t bothers me that people are focusing so much on this one aspect of his storyline that they end up ignoring a bunch of other things in both his videos or not questioning more of the information we currently have. I don't see many people mention how kazui's wife now has eyes when she didn't in Half but that lady at the bar who did have them doesn't have them now? Cause this didn't happen with Mu's group, even though i was fully expecting them to get clear faces they remained eyeless in It's Not My Fault so why does she have a face now? What about the bar scene in Half and the way it's framed, cause the only times we see kazui, the lady and the bartender together we see them from behind, where we can't see kazui's waistcoat or the woman's face, and also the fact that he and the lady change seats between scenes? Or even stuff like how when kazui talks about fighting kotoko he explicitly mentions that in a situation like that it's usually the bigger person that wins which-

you know.

The worst part (or best dependong on what you think of this) is that i can't even be mad about this. Like i can, and i will but even so this is still part of the project. A big part of Milgram is testing the biases people have and what sort of information and framing of events people are willing to overlook in favor of others. That's what this line in Undercover refers to

"Even with accusations full of faults and mistakes. You will for sure, with a smile for sure, be pleased and satisfied"

[delusion-of-negation]

i woke up and my first thought was a vivid image of a sitcom character. so like, you know how there's the kid hiding they're gay/trans from conservative parents in every teenager sitcom (things like sex education for eg)? mine was a gay furry single parent, hiding that from their kids, a neo-nazi ancap troll with completely incomprehensible politics, and a tradcath neocon. imagining this like little girl being incredibly snarky and on her phone constantly, meanwhile her older brother is like giving a lecture about how conservative economics are better, and the parent is too sitcom character stupid to understand it, but the ancap troll girl is like "wow, you're like the sjw of money, huh?" meanwhile their mom is wearing a hilariously bad wig to hide drunkenly dyeing her hair blue. look, i am NOT saying that it's progressive, clever, good, etc etc. i'm saying it is funny to me. personally, i think we need more cringefail gay sitcom people. imagine the generic talk about problems at bar sitcom scene. exhausted mom complaining "should he even know the word inflation at his age?" to a cast who definitely have bigger crap. generally they'd be the b plot to another character's antics. but definitely we need a "woke up drunk in bed together" episode- whoever woke up next to mom would say "i can't be a nazi dad" slightly too loud in a shop, and someone nearby looks over, it's classic. an additional benefit of it being kids instead of a shitty parent is the writers will be forced to make characters, not one dimensional punching bags, so they get to actually have plots. sometimes a plot will be the tradcon being the most attractive available guy in school, but he turns down everyone, so a chick hatches a scheme to pretend to be christian to date him, and it works, and the nazi sister is onto her but can't prove it, and we therefore get the "sitcom character gets arrested doing stupid illegal things for stupid reasons" when she follows chick with a camera. look, this premise is actually full of generic potential!!

edit: actually i just remembered how many writers suck at kids maybe that wouldn't force them to write them well :( that sucks

edit #2: the character who can't be a nazi dad is a butch lesbian realised that wasn't clear in the original post because pronouns

[depressedhatakekakashi]

A Night For Us

Pairing: YamaGai

Words: 2204

Thank you to @kakashihasibs for looking it over and making sure i did it justice 🥰🥰

Panang curry.

Gai’s smile had been so large when he told Yamato just what he wanted for dinner on his birthday, that the Mokuton user was half expecting his face to split in half. How the man could smile like that without hurting his face was beyond him, but he didn’t dare complain.

If he did, Gai might stop smiling, which would be a sad day. Gai had the most beautiful smile in the world and there wasn’t a day that went by that Yamato wasn’t blessed to see it, and all he had to do to earn that smile today was cook a simple meal of Panang curry. 

It wasn’t the only thing he would be doing, but the bar was set so low that it felt impossible to screw up. A comforting thought, since Yamato wanted tonight to be perfect. 

“Simmer for ten to fifteen minutes,” he read the recipe, satisfied that he had made it this far into the process without screwing up. “That should be enough time to set the table.”

Lowering the temperature on the stove, he placed the lid over the curry and turned away from it for a moment. All he needed to do was set out two plates along with their respective cutlery sets, and place Gai’s birthday gift in the centre of the table, and everything would be complete.

Not just complete, it would be perfect. 

“I wonder,” he whispered as he made his way toward the table and picked up the small bag he had left on it when he first entered the apartment. “Does he remember what today is?”

Yamato didn’t expect Gai to forget that it was his birthday. If he had he wouldn’t be out with Kakashi-senpai at this very moment, enjoying a day full of competitions and relaxing with his best friend. 

Today wasn’t just Gai’s birthday, though. For the last five years, January first had been both a celebration of Maito Gai’s birth and their anniversary. Of course, it had surprised him when Gai asked him out on a date on his birthday, but Yamato hadn’t been keen on turning down such an offer.

His only complaint was that they couldn’t celebrate their anniversary together the same as other couples seemed to. Instead of spending the entire day enjoying each other’s company and celebrating another year of dating, the two of them only got the evening together.

This was because January first was a day that Gai had always spent with Kakashi. A day which Kakashi made sure to take off every year, regardless of what was going on, so that the two of them could hang out.

Yamato might have been a little jealous at first, but over time he found he enjoyed it. Gai would always come back to his apartment smiling from ear to ear, and Kakashi always had fond stories to tell Yamato the next day about all the things they had done together. For a chance to see two of his favourite people so happy, Yamato was more than willing to give up a day with his boyfriend. 

Gai being so busy also presented him with a delightful opportunity to make dinner for the two of them, without having to worry about Gai distracting him from the food he was making.

Yamato had lived off of enough subpar food during his years in Root and Anbu for a lifetime. Now that he was free from such dietary restrictions he was determined to eat every single bite he took, and there was nothing delicious about eating burnt food. 

“Ah, focus Yamato,” he scolded himself. “Set the table. Gai should be back any moment and you don’t want him to walk in on a half-ready dinner.”

No, everything had to be completed before Gai walked through that door. If it wasn’t Yamato would never be able to forgive himself.

He wanted to be able to sit down and listen to Gai gush about all of the gifts he had received, and all of the friends he’d seen throughout the day. Not a single second could be wasted on setting up the table or putting dinner out when he had an entire evening to spend with Gai. 

Digging his hand into the bag, he pulled out the small tablecloth he kept hidden away in his apartment for dinner dates. A simple green cloth that fit the small two-person table perfectly, with a giant tree decorating the centre. He’d thought about taking it into a shop and getting a Turtle sewn in at the bottom of the tree, but missions kept him so busy that he’d failed to find an opportunity. 

Draping it over the table, he took a moment to straighten it out. Once it was situated perfectly, he reached back into the bag and retrieved the gift that he had worked for weeks on creating for Gai.

A gift that his senpai had bugged him about the entire time.

“You have Mokuton,” he’d teased. “You could make this in an instant.”

Kakashi had been right, of course. If Yamato wanted to he could have concentrated and formed the gift in a matter of seconds, but then it wouldn’t feel like a gift worthy of being given to Gai. 

He’d wanted to create it himself. Slowly, with just a piece of wood and a knife. What little time he had between missions and the occasional date with Gai, he had dedicated himself to crafting the perfect gift. 

“It’s our fifth anniversary,” he’d explained when Kakashi asked why he had chosen to put so much effort into making Gai’s gift. “Everything I’ve read says that on the fifth anniversary, the gift you give should be wood.”

“Tenzo, every gift you give is made of wood.”

Setting the gift down in the centre of the table, he smiled. Although it hadn’t turned out exactly as he’d planned, he was still rather pleased with the results. 

One large tortoise sat in the centre of the statue, with one smaller tortoise on its back, two on either side of it, and a tree behind it that had branches full of leaves hanging over all of them. Each of the smaller turtles had its own little designs to differentiate them from the others.

The Tortoise on the large tortoise’s back had little leg warmers carved into each of its legs, just like the ones that Gai and Lee wore. On the left, the little tortoise carried a scroll on its back, just like Tenten did. The one on the right was laying down looking up at the larger tortoise and had a simpler design than any of the others, just as Neji’s style of clothing was plainer than any of his teammates.

The larger tortoise didn’t have a style that fit with Gai, though. Instead, Yamato had opted for carving a tortoise that looked almost exactly like Ningame. With a shell pattern similar to the summons, leg warmers around its front two legs, and a Haita-ate hanging from its neck. 

“Right here,” he declared, setting the gift down in the centre of the table and maneuvering it so that it was facing the chair Gai always sat in. “Perfect.”

He couldn’t be sure just how Gai would react to the gift, but he was certain it would be a hit. If only because it was a sentimental gift based on Gai and his precious students. 

“Now,” he glanced towards the cupboards. “Plates.”

There was still a bit for him to do before Gai’s arrival. He only hoped that he could complete everything before Gai returned home. 

Click

The door swung open just as Yamato poured the curry over the rice, announcing Gai’s arrival. 

“How was your day?” He called out, too focused on the task of not spilling curry all over Gai’s counters to turn around and look at his boyfriend. “Did you beat Senpai in all of your challenges?”

There was no answer.

Not a cheerful greeting or sombre admission of defeat.

Nothing.

Yamato was ready to set down the pot of curry and turn around, concerned about his boyfriend's uncharacteristic silence when he felt Gai’s weight pressing against his back. His arms slipped around his waist, hugging him gently. 

“That kind of day, huh?” He chuckled. Gai only got quiet and snuggly when everything had gone terribly wrong. “What happened? Senpai wasn’t mean to you was he?”

He didn’t like the thought of yelling at his best friend, but he would if it was necessary.

“Not Kakashi’s fault,” Gai grumbled against his shoulder. “We had a blast.”

Finishing with the curry, he set the pot off to the side. “If you had a blast then why are you upset?”

“I…” 

Yamato placed his hands over Gai’s. “Talk to me.” he insisted.

“Well,” retracting his arms, Gai stood up and waited for Yamato to turn around. “I bought you a gift this morning. I’d been struggling to choose something all week, but when I saw it I knew you would love it.”

“That’s probably true,” he agreed. Gai was a thoughtful man who remembered almost everything about him, from his favourite food to the types of books he enjoyed reading. There wasn’t a gift he’d gotten for Yamato in the past that he didn’t like. “Did something happen?”

“During our last challenge,” Gai continued. “Kakashi and I were racing around the village walls. Kakashi tripped me to try and slow me down, but when I fell… well,” reaching into his left chest pouch, Gai pulled out a few splinters of wood. When Yamato took a closer look he could sort of make out a design, but it was shattered. No one in Konoha would be capable of repairing such damage. “Kakashi told me he would buy another one, but when we got back to the store the shopkeeper informed us that I had bought the last one.”

“I see,” collecting the pieces from Gai’s hand, Yamato laid them carefully in his left palm. “Is this… a tree?”

“A cherry blossom tree,” Gai confirmed. “With a cat sleeping under it.”

Yamato couldn’t help but smile. He loved trees and cats, so of course, Gai had wanted to get him a gift with two things he enjoyed in it. It was a touching thought and a beautiful gift from what he could see of the remnants. 

“Well,” he clasped his right hand over his left, covering the splinters. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the mental image he had created, hoping that he had gotten it right. 

The wood moved between his hands, warping itself back together piece by piece. 

When he was confident that it was complete, he opened his hands and showed it to Gai, a smile stretching across his lips when he saw it in its full glory. Not only was it a beautiful cherry blossom tree in full bloom, with a cat lazing happily under it, but it also had a small sparrow sitting atop one of the branches staring down at the cat. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, looking back up at Gai. “Thankfully, it’s made of wood.”

Gai stood there in front of him, all of the sorrow at losing that perfect gift gone as he stared down at the little statue with his mouth agape with amazement. “You-” a smile stretched across his face. “You are amazing.”

Yamato could feel a blush creeping up the back of his neck when he heard that word. “I’m r-really not,” he sputtered. “It’s just…it’s wood,” he held up his hand a bit higher as if Gai had no idea what the gift he had bought was made out of. “I can fix anything that’s made out of wood.”

“I know,” Gai reached out and gently cupped his face, his smile growing impossibly wide when Yamato’s face began to turn a brilliant shade of red. “That’s just part of why you’re so amazing.”

Forgetting all about the meal he had worked so hard on cooking, or the gift that he’d placed out on the table for Gai, Yamato dropped his hands to his side and collapsed against Gai’s body and hide his face in his shoulder, determined to hide away from everyone until he could get his emotions under control.

A hopeless endeavour, since as soon as he’d collapsed Gai had taken the opportunity to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I love you,” Gai whispered into his ear as he rubbed a hand over his back. Offering a silent, sweet comfort in Yamato’s time of need. “I hope you like the gift.”

He loved the gift.

It was the most beautiful statue he’d ever laid his eyes on, if only because Gai had gotten it for him. Even the statue that he had spent months carefully crafting just for Gai couldn’t compare to it. 

He just couldn’t say any of that because he was still struggling to process the fact that his beautiful, fantastic, sweet boyfriend had complimented him. 

Even after years of being free from Root, and dating a man who took every opportunity he could to offer praise, Yamato still couldn’t handle a genuine compliment. A fact that he could imagine being the death of him one day.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

All the stalkers and such I complain about...

It's really what the cartels have; a drug production hub across the California border with Ashland, a super (well was) affluent retirement style community border town.

We're got a house that runs the english pub *across an alleyway* from a latin king palatial estate in progress; like the empire and that organization are neighbors or something here in Ashland. It's modest and they conquered all but twenty two countries; they don't have need for a ten bedroom alley-and-actual-deadend house; that latin kings saw fit to *outclass an idea* (what they're really running on) with an oversized house (872 address even).

A fleet of honda fit economy cars in red. Secondhand blue fords from dubious used car dealerships. They're easy to get because nobody wants them among the trucks, and they're what people with dwindling drug income can afford for the honda. These are *things that they have*. They're mob nadir around Oregon because the bottom dropped out of all those markets; they don't have supermodels to sell, they've got remnant Italians from middle class neighborhoods at best.

These (the vehicles) are more or less formed into divisions of a much larger thing. Red "H onda" and Blue enforcement. Coopers are "we like the fbi, ese!" I'm guessing since ms13 is in there too (news about how legendary and lucrative ashland is or was way back, is slow to travel latin america I guess). They're going to have bicycle bound army at the rate things are going; siccarios with rider bars on the back tire and BMX armored riders. Stuff's not so paranoid as it sounds; they're taking the place of the Italians back in the 1980s, when there were like four pizzerias per square mile.

*chaddock expy sounding high whiny monotone with glasses "I'm going to have...and I want...and my name on things...parking spaces* (sound traditionally of a gay kid raised in a house with parents who don't accept or understand you)

But this is what we have from cocaine in single seater airplanes flying around Oregon back then.

We've got armies of vicarious latinas (white women full of rage built like them), with all kinds of issues about how "white women fear serial killers when dating; men fear women will turn up fat" Nobody wants latinas but they can cartel project their authority with armies of white women built like them, and seeming to occupy a space where (it seems like but isn't) actual latinas could as easily go.

*gets loud again "options that are not options!"* This is an expy of a kid whose mom was too abusive to visit his apartment as an adult. Someone who grew up in his dad's store because that mom wasn't to be relied upon; my sister's mother had no maternal instinct either, incidentally.

"they're so white here..." that you never ever see them. But *you do see white people built like them* also getting shorter by the decade. And I've seen probably twenty or thirty expies of that one chaddock kid running around. *chaddock expy tells his parents what to do* huh.

When I was feeling put off by this how things have changed, I threatened some Mexican Americans having a really good time around a playground with "we'll just bring the mujeres up from below the border!". Meaning Mexico. The horror had a scent and a texture. "Don't even joke about that!" The pleading look went.

Sicilian mob got caved in by that. England's empire did too; my late friend had pointed out that everything it was famous by *was not there nor anywhere near it*. Delhi palaces and Lawrence of Arabia and *none of those women to be found*. "We're just getting it ready for you!" They all say and for decades sometimes even centuries. A "better life".

(Loggers and the mob with third grade education average, were running Oregon right before you guys and marijuana united nations stuff and all that turned out after the 70s)

[solongandgoodknight]

discourse doesn't happen at bars but people regularly explain how they do not want cisgender, straight people there and yet that gets ignored

anon im legitimately confused by the tone of this post. is it like trying to open up the conversation about there being a lot of cishet people in bars in gay bars to an extent that makes people uncomfortable or saying that it's a bad thing to complain about gaybars being full of cishet people. anyway i agree on the end that sometimes its really annoying to go and want to hang out with other lgbt folks but then there's just a lot of Straight Men there but usually it hasnt been too big a deal in the places i go to

[traveler-at-heart]

Leave it to chance

Summary: Natasha just wants an evening with you. The rest of the people at Tony’s party have other plans.

Natasha x Fem!Reader

A/N: Here it is, a request made a long time ago by the lovely @poptartpoppyy 

It was an exhausting mission. In spite of the quick shower while the Quinjet flew on auto pilot, the faint smell of smoke and gunpowder lingered. You’d rather be in your pajamas and getting some sleep, but this was a fundraiser and you knew your presence would help get some money towards good causes.

Looking around the room, it was obvious Tony had decided on a casino themed night. It was very apt, especially if he wanted the invitees to spend their money without thinking twice. You walked past a poker table, Sam and Maria looking at each other without breaking eye contact. “He thinks she’s bluffing” Natasha informed you when you tilted your head, curious at the interaction. “Ah. Well, are you playing anything tonight?” “Don’t like betting or leaving my fate to chance” she tilted her head towards her sister, screaming after losing for the tenth time. “Come on, if you don’t risk it, you won’t win it” you professed, sitting next to her on a bar stool. Natasha smirked, but quickly changed the subject. “Didn’t expect to see you here. I know it was a hard mission” “What? This?” you pointed at your split lip and swollen cheek. “Nah, you should see the HYDRA brute” “If you need a way out, just say the word” she whispered, sipping her martini with those beautiful, full lips that were adorned with red lipstick. “Trying to get rid of me?” a strand of hair covered your face and as you placed it behind your ear you felt something sticky in your fingers. “You’re bleeding” Natasha jumped up. “Huh? No, that can’t be” “Your head. God, Y/N, I knew you were not fine” she placed the glass on the bar and took your hand, dragging you across the room. “Your skull is so thick you can’t even feel a punch?” “Where are we going?” “To get a doctor” “I’m a doctor” a woman said behind you. Your turned around and caught her staring with a predatory smirk. She pushed you against the couch and you fell with a little whine. The brunette climbed to your lap, pretending to examine the shallow wound on your temple. “Are you able to see?” she said with a smile, knowing full well her breasts were all over your face. “Uh… not now, no. I mean…” “I don’t think you’re a doctor” Natasha grumbled, pulling her off of you. You looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, I thought we were role playing” the woman winked, making you blush. “You either have a concussion or gay panic” Natasha complained when you stumbled to the medbay. “Can’t those two trues coexist?” you mumbled, still perpexled at how forward the stranger had been. Half an hour later, the doctors confirmed what you told Natasha. You did not have a concussion and all they did in the end was clean the little gash. “Could have fooled me with that dumb look on your face” she grumbled and you winced. “She was all over my face, I seriously did not expected that” “Are you really that oblivious to how many people like you?” she insisted as you walked back to the room. “What do you…” you were about to ask, when you felt a tap on your shoulder. There was a blonde woman, around Wanda’s age and she was looking at you eagerly. “Hi, there” “Hi, Y/N. Sorry, of course I know your name. I’m Nelly” “And I’m getting a drink” Natasha rolled her eyes at the woman and disappeared. You wanted to follow her but the conversation with Nelly wasn’t over, apparently. “Listen, my niece is like your biggest fan. Here” she stood close to you, leaning against your arm. Nelly played a couple of videos of her niece, dressed like you and wearing the shield Tony had designed. “Oh, she’s just the cutest” you melted against the woman, and kept laughing at the images she played. You were smitten over the little girl. “Her birthday is coming up and I was just wondering if you’d tell her happy birthday over video” “Yeah, absolutely!” Nelly got ready to record you, smiling as you waved to the camera. “Hi, Lizzie. Your aunt Nelly tells me you really want to be an Avenger one day. You got some great moves, kiddo. Anyway, I hope you have a great birthday! Oh, and your aunt Nelly is the coolest aunt ever!” “Yes, that’s awesome” the blonde commented, replaying the video. “Alright then” you thought you were finally free to go, but Nelly stood in front of you again, smirking. “How can I pay you?” “No need. It was just a video” “Really? So you’re not interested in dinner?” she toyed with the edge of your shirt and your throat was dry. Oh, boy. “Well, I go on so many missions that I barely have the time” “I think you can squeeze in some. We can have dessert too” “Uh…” How could you come up with extraction missions and not know how to politely decline what was surely a proposition to get laid? Yelena saved you the trouble. “Jesus, so sorry” she stumbled against the other woman, spilling some of her drink on her dress. “Hey, at least you’ll smell like good vodka, huh? Oy, whatever I guess” she turned to you as the woman walked to the restroom. “You might want to run away because I don’t think she will give up” “So are you tipsy or were you just trying to help a friend?” you smiled and she giggled. “A bit of the two. But also, I gotta find Kate Bishop because she was very drunk. Excuse me” “Wait, where’s your sister?” “Over there” she pointed to a table where people were playing. “Maybe” As you walked around the different games, you thought you found Natasha. But as soon as you spotted her, Bucky’s large body came into view, and you pushed him towards the table. “Shit, sorry, Bucks” you apologized as he smiled at you. “No worries, doll, it’s not my lucky day” “Sir, you won” the dealer informed him and you stared at each other. “Ok, now you have to come over” he pulled you towards the game. You never understood any of these things. All he did was throw dice apparently. “You’re my lucky charm” “Just for a few minutes” you said. It turned out to be at least half an hour. Bucky kept winning and you’d throw your hands in the air, hollering at a new set of chips joining his huge pile. “What am I getting out of being your lucky charm?” you said before blowing at the metal hand holding the dice. “How about ice cream?” “Ice cream? Splurge a little, Buck” He laughed at that, throwing the dice again. “Yes!” he picked you up. And yes, you were a little smitten at seeing him so happy. He rarely hung around anyone at the Compound. Natasha and him surely had a competition for the grumpiest… Shit. “She left already” Yelena informed you the second she found you looking around the room. You hurried around the elevator, holding your side as you waited for the doors to open. Without the noise and the winning euphoria, you could tell you were very tired. “Ran out of luck?” she asked, still clad in her red dress. “Ran out to find you, that’s more like it” “Didn’t want to interrupt. Seems like he was finally ready to ask you out” “Bucky?” you stuttered. “Yeah, uh… not my type” well… you snorted at the sudden thought. Natasha glared at you, clearly in a bad mood - and definitely not in one to entertain your jokes. “I mean, in some ways he is my type. Ex-assassin, broody, striking eyes, trained in Russia” “Are you getting somewhere with this?” “You’re a spy, figure it out” rolling your eyes at how clueless she was being, you began to walk out of the kitchen. “I wanted a nice evening dancing and drinking with you, that’s all” Natasha kept staring at the coffee pot, stubborn as usual. All she could think about was you with all those people, including Barnes. It was infuriating how you didn’t even notice they were all shamelessly flirting. “Almost as infuriating as you not understanding she likes you” Yelena commented, munching on a Pop Tart. “When did you get here?” Natasha jumped. “Kate Bishop is a light weight. Did I say that right? I also overheard Y/N describing you to your face. Ex-assassin raised in Russia with a very cool little sister” “Pretty sure you added that last bit” “Maybe” Yelena shrugged. “Come on sestra, don’t be silly. Go get the girl” — You felt pretty defeated. Maybe you should have avoided the party altogether. But now, you were finally in your pajamas and ready to sleep it off. “Agent Y/N, you are required in the briefing room” FRIDAY asked. “Now?!” you covered your face with a pillow. “Yes” “Ugh. Fine” Without changing into everyday clothes, you basically stomped to the conference room. “This better be importa-“ The whole room was dark, except for a couple of candles. Natasha was lighting the last one as you barged into the room. “I forgot you sprint when you’re mad” she said with a smile, smoothing the front of her dress. “I do not” you lied, but walked inside. “An evening dancing, right?” Natasha smiled weakly and you nodded. “I looked a lot better a half hour ago. Yoga pants and an old t-shirt aren’t exactly Fashion Week stuff” “You look perfect. Come on” she reached for your hand, while a soft song played in the background. You let her lead you, moving your body closer until your head was resting on her shoulder. “A lot of people could flirt with me but I’d only want you to do it” you told her, kissing her cheek. “Go out on a date with me” Natasha blurted out. “Is that an order or a question?” you smiled. “Depends if you like it when I’m bossy” she said, but blushed at her lack of tact. “Yeah, I like it. Tomorrow at 7” “It’s a plan” you swayed with the music for a few minutes until she spoke again. “So I’m your type, huh?” “Like I said, ex-assassin, striking eyes, a bit clueless. And a great ass” “Yeah, definitely not Bucky. Boy’s got no junk in the trunk” “You did not just say that” you snorted. She was such a dork. “What if I did? Was I not spilling the tea?” “Please stop talking” you pleaded, mortified that she’d keep saying anything like that. “Just speaking my truth…” she was interrupted by your lips on hers. You caught her little smirk, her hands lowering to your waist. “I knew I should take more chances during casino night” she pecked your lips once again. “Play your cards right and you’ll get lucky, Romanoff” And you were willing to bet that was happening pretty soon.