#this is the ..... fourth? fifth? ask i've had with the same question so perhaps i should put something in an about me post to explain it

[hailsatanacab]

i have to know

is it hail satan a cab or hail satan acab

if its the second wtf does acab mean

I’ve had this url for yeeaarrrss and when I first thought of it “hail satan” was a meme here, for some reason?? I’d thrown in “a cab” as just a cute little phrase that made me laugh

ACAB - All Cops Are Bastards - is just a fun coincidence that I hadn’t noticed at the time but I’m owning it now, so the answer is both!!

Hail Satan. ACAB. beep beep!

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ellie williams x male reader (platonic) jesse x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ellie comes back to town for resupply and catches up with an old friend

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 781

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, angst, post character death, post Seattle, awkward, very awkward, angst with a hopeful ending, ellie's pov, somewhat vague as to whether it's post santa barbara

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: inspo. don't ask me why both tlou fics have ellie pov

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There he is. Jesse's boyfriend.

It's rude to think of him as just Jesse's boyfriend. He was his own person, after all; but Ellie has reason. She knew Jesse better than him, after all. Jesse was one of her best friends, despite being the main reason she couldn't act on her long-time crush for a good while.

He was admirable, a young patrol-leader, courageous and smart. Most of all, he was loyal. He even followed her to Seattle.

Oh, fucking Seattle.

He looks like him, in a way. Ellie doesn't want to be rude, but their hair...it's the same. It's coarse and greasy, but so is everyone else's. Commercial shampoo isn't a thing twenty years after the collapse of the world and "major capitalism" anyway, but that's not the point.

He does look different. His eyes, his nose, his face is different, his own. But his hair.

It's shorter down the sides, obviously to keep it out of the way, and yet pieces still remain in front, perhaps a fashion statement, a rare sight when survival calls for practicality; perhaps, instead, a simple inevitability. The back remains long, down, unlike Jesse's, past his shoulders, Ellie recalls he used to wear it up more often than down. Before he and Jesse got together, he wore it in neat braids. Afterward, they got messy—maybe tugging from heated sessions, maybe, more probably, Jesse tried braiding it for him.

"Your hair." Ellie finds herself saying, interrupting your words. She wasn't paying attention, it was rude of her, but she can't see anything else.

"My hair?" You look confused, taking a piece in your hand, but then, oh, your hair. "I haven't had time, since..."

Since Seattle, Ellie thinks, but Seattle isn't Seattle to you, it's Jesse's death.

"Right." Ellie leans back, to stand on her heels. Right.

"I've had to, you know, take over patrol organization a bit, plus, um, new duties, yeah?"

"Yeah." She says, again another short response.

Yeah. Jesse handled a lot of patrol organization, alongside Mary, who now has to help Tommy around because of his knee and all, meaning she needs more people to help her; and also Tommy's knee means he can't go on patrol anymore and...it's just such a mess. And since Ellie left too? And Dina's busy with JJ? Three—four people that can't patrol anymore.

I'm sorry, she thinks to say, but she can't.

"You put it up for patrols?" She asks. It's a stupid question, the answer is an obvious yes.

"Yea–" It's a short response, too, awkward. "I meant, I, uh, don't have the time to braid."

She knows it's not true. She knows you at least have time in the mornings, but then maybe you just don't because it reminds you of him. The way his hands felt in your hair, clumsy, sometimes the braids are too tight and awfully angled, or sometimes they're too loose, but it's Jesse, so who cares?

I'm sorry, is yet again on her tongue, but she can't.

"How's–" What was she going to say? What were you saying, before she'd mentioned your hair? Fuck, she doesn't know.

You speak up abruptly, eyes flitting down, then up, "It looks like his, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." She agrees. Just that. What else is there to say? Well, there is... "I'm sorry."

"I know, Ellie." You say. It's simple.

She said it to you once, at the funeral; again, at the wake. A third time last time she came by, a fourth the time after. This might be the fifth, but she can't account for times she's been drunk, or whatever the fuck she was dealing with fresh off the horse from Seattle.

"I–" She wishes to say it again, anyway. She wishes to say more. Jesse loved you. Jesse wouldn't want you to be sad. Jesse...

"I know." You know, of course, she's already told you all of that, you don't even need her to speak her mind to know it. "Listen, I have to..." You gesture vaguely that-a-way.

"Right. Yeah." Ellie nods her head, bounces back on the balls of her feet and backs off.

"I'll see you next time?" You offer, your hands meeting together, intertwining, fingers breaking then holding again; a teeter, a restless thing. Nervous, no, awkward.

"Yeah." Ellie nods her head.

You're off.

But she speaks again, stopping you. "Hey, um!" She clears her throat, her sudden impulsive thought catching up to her, but you've already turned around, and she must finish. "I'll braid your hair? Next time?"

You smile, huff out a breath through your nose, maybe it's amusement, pity towards Ellie's attempt at what, making up? Or maybe it's appreciation. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Hello! I'm pretty sure I saw you mention a while ago that you were disappointed by confessions of the fox, would you mind explaining why? I've seen mostly good things about it myself. If I misremembered then I'm sorry and I hope you have a good day :))

I think this is one of my less popular opinions. And I understand - we so rarely get historical fiction with trans folk as the titular character (indeed, we rarely get any fiction what that). So I get people’s desire to laud it. 

For me though? It fundamentally didn’t work as a book. As a story.  

Let me count the ways. (Apologies in advance for the length of this.)

First: If you’re trans-ing someone who was historically cis instead of seeking to find a real, historical trans or gender-nonconforming person, I have questions. 

Most of the questions can be summed up as: Why? 

I struggle with historical fiction that takes a cis person and re-imagines them as trans as if there aren’t already literal historical, real trans people out there whose stories can be told. It smacks as (unintended, well meaning) erasure of lived experiences. 

Jack Sheppard, to the best of our knowledge, was a cis dude. There were trans folk in London in the 1710s and ‘20s. You might have to dig a bit for them, but they’re there. Because trans folk have always been there. 

Second: Characterisation 

This is more personal taste, but I found Jack and his girlfriend Bess to be inexcusably boring. How a trans, thief and gaolbreaker in 1720s gin-soaked London can be written as boring is anyone’s guess. But he was. 

Jack had no real personality and I found his story to be uninteresting. Oh, he’s the world’s best thief and gaolbreaker, that’s nice. But on its own it isn’t enough.

He had few to no faults. Childhood trauma isn’t a personality. Nor is being trans. And the author relies heavily on gender + occupation (thief-ness) to equal personality. So it falls very flat.  

Bess, his girlfriend, is a mixed-race sex worker from the Fens (even though actual real-Bess was from Edgeware). She seems to only exist to demonstrate that Jack is good at sex. She also veers a little into the Mystical Woman of Colour Healer Who Aids The White Person on their Journey of Self Discovery trope. 

Neither Bess nor Jack undergo any real change in the book. They exist in a weird stasis and experience no development, despite living through some harrowing things. They’re wooden dolls who move through the story without really engaging with, or being influenced by, the things around them. 

The other “main” character is a modern Academic who “found” this supposed “manuscript” of Jack’s life and is annotating it. His story unfolds in the foot notes and it’s just so messy if not a bit contrived. It didn’t make sense. I think the author was trying to convey that the Academic was in a sort of dystopian future, but if that’s the case it didn’t work. And if that’s not the case, the entire inclusion of the Academic’s story served only to annoy and take me out of the reading experience. 

E.g. There’s a scene where the Academic is being taken to task by the Dean for playing stupid games on his phone during office hours and like honey, lapsed-historian/academic here, trust me the Dean doesn’t give a fuck what you do during your office hours so long as you’re in your office and students can come bother you about their poor marks. 

The manuscript is supposedly being sought after by this pharmaceutical company for nefarious reasons that never struck me as being entirely realistic/believable. Also, the university was spying on this non-tenured, slightly useless Academic as if he somehow mattered? Which made zero sense. Anyway, it was stupid and should have been ripped out of the final version. OR changed substantially. 

Jonathan Wild, the thief taker (main antagonist to Jack), is probably the only interesting person. 

Third: Lack of Follow Through, or, the Fabulism Was Not Used Well 

The book tries to blend in some fabulism to the world by giving Jack the ability to “hear” the thoughts of inanimate objects. This could have been fun and gone to some interesting places, but it failed to deliver. 

I personally found the shoe-horning in of “capitalism commodifies everything” to be sloppy and heavy handed. It was done with little grace and didn’t sit right given that we are dealing with the early modern period. Yes, you can use the past to critique our modern woes, but do it intelligently. Don’t slap modern points of view and understandings of things onto the past and expect them to make sense. 

Anyway, Jack spends the book hearing inanimate objects talk to him, asking him to “free” them, or something. And uh .. .it doesn’t go anywhere interesting after that. 

Also the correlation one can draw from these objects to, you know, slaves, is uncomfortable. Especially as it’s the cargo of the EIC ships that Jack hears. I don’t think it’s intended in any sort of malicious way, but the allusion is there and I always found it to be distinctly uncomfortable. 

Fourth: Misuse of Marxist Theory, or, More Heavy Handed Moralizing that Annoyed the Dear Reader because it wasn’t subtle and, more importantly, it wasn’t done intelligently. 

So, the author is an academic - studies 18th century lit. Which is readily apparent as his Academic (self-insert) character is, I believe, supposed to be a historian and uh ... you can tell that the author doesn’t know enough to wing that. E.g. How he interprets some of the laws and customs of the time. Instead of understanding the social, economic and, most importantly, environmental issues that gave birth to laws like “the corporation of the city of London owns the streets so you can’t muckrake” he chooses to understand them through a very 21st century lens (and a Marxist one at that. I know I’m perhaps a bit uncool for this, but I find the application of Marxist theory to the early modern period to be ... not useful). 

Do you know why, mid/late 17th century London passed these municipal laws? Because of the god damn fucking plague you numb nut. You absolute buffoon. It had nothing to do with “oh the City/government is evil and wants to own you” it had to do with the fact that no one cleaned the goddamn street. So the city took over doing it. 

Prior to this, in London, you were supposed to keep the street in front of your building clear of waste, debris, refuse etc. No one did this, of course. I live where it’s cold and snows a lot and people can barely shovel the 2 sq ft of sidewalk in front of their driveway in the winter. I dread the idea of an average homeowner being expected to keep the street clear and clean. 

Anyway, guess what dirty streets attract? Vermin. Guess what comes with vermin? Plague. Guess what happened in 1665/66? The great plague of London! 

17th century England might not have understood germ theory, but they did understand correlation. (Also, the population of London was doubling at the back half of the 17th century and streets needed to be reliably cleared for through-traffic reasons etc. etc.) 

ugh, sorry, that one in particular drove me up the wall. Not everything is a capitalist conspiracy. Especially when we’re talking about municipal by-laws from the 17th century. 

And I understand the temptation to read a lot of modern interpretation of words like “corporation” and “company” onto bodies that used these same words in 17th and 18th centuries. But the weight, meaning and connotation of “the worshipful company of merchant adventurers” is different from, I don’t know, “the tech company google” or whatever. The early 18th century is when we start seeing the birth of the stock market, of “venture companies” (i.e. merchant adventure companies), of a lot of the language and proto-iterations of what will grow to be economic institutions of our time. But it doesn’t mean they’re the same and that difference is important. Because Jack Sheppard is a man living in 1720 he’s not going to be having our modern 21st century critiques of capitalism because his engagement with the economic systems of his time would have been radically different to our own experiences. 

Fifth:  Unbelievable Top Surgery & Recovery 

So, Jack gets top surgery. In 1720s fever-ridden London. While quarantining in a brothel. 

And he lived! No infection! No tearing! He was up and about in a matter of days. I don’t remember if his nipples survived the operation or not but somehow Jack did. Without anesthetics! Or you know, any concept of hygiene. 

His Mystical Girlfriend Who Exists to Show How Good Jack is at Sex is also somehow Magically Very Literate and also Magically a Surgeon? and performs this surgery on Jack in the middle of a plague. 

The entire ordeal was so poorly handled in terms of believability that I literally set the book down and said “what the fucking fuck” to the empty room then drank wine before finishing the chapter. 

An aside, it is funny thinking about the quarantine chapters at this point. I read COTF when it first came out a few years ago. Sweet summer children, we none of us had any idea how to write quarantine scenes. 

That reminds me: the entire quarantine thing was presented as the government trying to control movement and take away people’s rights etc. instead of a very normal, typical response that cities had been enacting since 1350. Samuel Pepys, who lived through the 1665/66 epidemic, barely even notes the restrictions. He’s like just “hmmm I’d love to go to the pub but I also don’t want to die. so. *shrug*” 

At the time of the author’s writing, most of us in the western world had no idea how normal and day-to-day disease was for our ancestors and yes, sometimes there would be crackdowns to try and curb it if an epidemic hit. That was part and parcel of life. So again, Jack and Bess wouldn’t be like “ooooh we’re 21st century slightly libertarian lefitsts who think the government is doing this to control us and for nefarious purposes”. Much more likely, they would have been like Pepys and viewed it as nuisance, albeit a necessary one. 

Sixth: Overall Lack of Realism 

I think I’ve noted the big moments where I was like “no one in the early 18th century would think that I’m pretty certain”. This isn’t to say people didn’t grouse, complain about London government (and the king etc.), critique or question the world they lived in. They absolutely did! Regularly. With great verve and gusto, if the broadsheets are anything to go by. But their critiques, their complaints, suggestions for bettering life, are not the same as ours. Because how could they be? They lived in a different world, were responding to specific things, grew up hearing and believing certain things etc. 

Jack, aside from having minimal to no character, really did read like a modern slightly-libertarian leftist who was plunked into a novel that takes place three hundred years ago. 

In addition to unrealistic political views, his understanding of body, gender, sexuality and identity also read as incredibly modern. Now this is harder, because we have so few extant sources from that time on those who lived non-gender conforming lives, and from their point of view, so yes creative imagining and interpretation is the rule of the day for writing that. 

But, we do know how in general the average person engaged and understood gender and sexuality and that would, naturally, inform anyone whose experience was different. And that base line of “probably what a typical cis Englishman or woman felt about their body and identity” wasn’t present. At all. 

Indeed, gender engagement at that time was interesting. The concept of the body, the role of the physical body, how it was interpreted is absolutely fascinating and the author could have done some really cool things with that. But he didn’t. He went for slapping a modern interpretation onto the past. 

At this point, write a dystopian novel and make Jack a fictional character. That probably would have gone over better, for me at least. The conceit can remain the same: It’s the year 4056 and an Academic found a manuscript from the year 3045 when the Dystopia Was a Thing - and go from there. 

--- 

I think part of what made this very popular and why people seem so taken with it is that it reads smart. It reads like someone who has immersed themselves in that world etc. because of the slang and language used. 

Yet, for me, as someone who has studied this period extensively, especially queerness in London in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, it read flat and unrealistic. 

I was initially very enthused when I started it. There are some posts to that effect on my blog. But it very quickly went south. It tries very hard to be Radical and Smart and Subversive and Critiquing Everything and so I think it fails at the fundamental thing it should be doing: telling a good story. 

(Note: The book does try and address racism in London at this time. It also felt a bit forced. And Jack seemed to have no prejudices or preconceived notions about Indian and Black folk which isn’t realistic. Like, it might make him #Problematic but my dude, you’re writing a man born in 1702. He’s going to have some iffy views. That can be challenged! Absolutely. But they still would have existed.) 

---

Thank you for the ask! I again apologize for the length of the reply. 

[lovemecharlie]

Uh Oh, Charlie

This is directly after Good Time, Charlie. Italics were written by Angel and taken from her fic 32 Weeks.

“I think we should fuck consistently until you’re over him.”

“Tuh.. Sounds like a lotta fuckin, let’s get started.”

Over the month Charlie had been messing with Trevante, they barely spoke about her husband, choosing to act as if she were single. In Charlie's mind, she was. Charlie knew burying feelings was an ineffective and unhealthy way of dealing with the anger and bitterness of rejection, but she also didn't want to dwell on negative feelings knowing that her life had to go on. Trevante was more than willing to play distraction, wining and dining her at cute spots that were out of his comfort zone. It was cute and he was honest. She felt more herself than she had in a while.

As for their arrangement.. It was sex, sex, sex, and more sex back to back and for hours whenever Charlie and Trevante had free time. They'd had sex on the hotel bed, chair, in the shower, on the sink, in the women's bathroom on the main floor, in the pool, in her car, in his car, in his barber's chair at work when no one was there.. that was her favorite because he gave her a clean undercut after.. in his bed, on his kitchen counter and table, in his bathtub, on his couch. The sex was great and it was often.

However, something strange had been happening. For perhaps the fifth day in a row, Charlie woke up feeling like Hell above ground. She woke with nausea and an aggressive case of heartburn that felt like acid reflux. Her body was fatigued and she felt achey like a virus was coming on. She still felt the ghost of Trevante's strong fingers hard on her sides and on her hips. Rolling from the bed, she ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach, wiping her mouth with tissue and rinsing with mouthwash. On her return to the bed, Trevante was awake and he looked concerned.

"That's the fourth time that I've seen you vomit this week.. and that's only what I've seen. I think you should go get checked out and before you say you're fine.. you're not fine." His voice wasn't loud or accusatory like N'Jadaka's would've been in that moment. Trevante was way easier to deal with.

"It's probably a virus or maybe I got food poisoning from the Thai restaurant we went to last week."

"We ate the same thing. I don't think so," he squinted. "Plus, if you had a virus I'd be as sick as you as much as I'm around and up in you."

"I don't know what else it could be," Charlie shrugged crossing her arms stubbornly.

"I have a guess," Trevante's brow raised and they stared at each other in a long moment of silence.

"...It's probably heat exhaustion. Oh my God, it's a heat stroke." The look in Trevante's eyes said he knew the truth and Charlie needed to accept it and come to terms. She didn't want to even think of it. "Tre, it's probably the heat," she reasoned again silently begging him to agree. The hotel had A/C, it wasn't the heat. She simply felt awful. "...And I'm supposed to go to Angel's gender reveal party today and be all fancy in a gown and heels? I don't know how this is going to work."

"You don't owe anyone an explanation of what we've been doing." His hands folded behind his head, vibes of tranquility wafting from him to Charlie, keeping her calm.

"I don't wanna talk to my estranged husband at all. I don't wanna see him, I just want to support my Angel on her big day." She moved to the small closet to grab her white and gold dress laying it on the bed. "I think I'm pretty much over my anger and the whole situation, but real talk. I've been thinking about this for a while. What if my husband found out we were fuckin and came to attack us?" She stared at Tre as his calm smile widened. He didn't take it seriously. "Tre, I'm serious." She felt paranoid, but she knew Erik's mind.

"With all due respect, Charlie? Like I've told you again and again.. I'm not afraid of him. I'll be in the same barbershop he saw me in before, cutting hair. It's good. He can come through anytime, get a shape up," he joked.

"You're not taking this seriously, do not underestimate him. He's done some things."

"He's crazy, I know," Trevante nods rolling his soft eyes. "Half the niggas on my block crazy. Everybody crazy. Don't worry about me, beautiful, I've been crazy too. I can revert if need be."

"How are you so level-headed and unbothered about all this?" Charlie sighed. He sat up and climbed from the bed, still fully naked in all of his chocolate glory to wrap his arms around her in an embrace.

"Stop worrying so much. Peace is attainable if you're vigilant."

"You and that poetry," she smirked.

---

"Okay, everyone!" An ever stunning Janelle Monae spoke into the microphone. Angel had asked her to host the event, and much like most people, couldn't tell her no. "It's time for the moment we've all been waiting for! Ryley and Henny planned the coolest gender reveal ever, a firework show! So if you're ready, let's travel outside of this lavish tent and see the show!"

Charlie felt as though she were being watched and she had the suspicion that it was of Erik's doing. It was definitely something he'd do, hire people to watch her. Her nausea increased. How much had they seen? There were people left and right and she looked at all of their eyes. Erik's eyes were the only ones she avoided since she could sense a conversation in those dark brown peepers that she didn't care to have.

It was a sticky situation she found herself in. She absentmindedly felt on her own stomach pudge, praying for the nausea to be a product of food poisoning as everyone watched the night sky. A baby was not ideal. She'd been good on her own needing Erik for nothing and she'd already begun to rediscover herself and her own happiness. She refused to go backwards.

"Charlie! Come sit with the fam," Homie pulled her so that she sat with the other wives who greeted her warmly with hugs. She did miss them all, each and every one. They looked beautiful in their stark white, glittering gold, and deep emerald green. Angel herself looked exquisite and was glowing. Girl had gotten thicc enough to bite.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” They watched as fire shot up into the sky, flying up at the speed of lightening until….

Charlie's jaw dropped and tears slipped down her awed face thinking of what it meant as blue and pink lights rained down.

Pink and Blue. A boy and a girl. Twins!

The house would be getting boy and girl twins. She couldn't wait to hold them and squeeze their cheeks and read to them. She wondered if they'd be tiny babies or fat like cherubs. She hoped they were fat like cherubs.. and healthy. Health was most important. Her hand went to her stomach again. She didn't take back her wish for food poisoning, but she figured that maybe having a baby wouldn't be so bad. Angel was already on the road to childbirth.. all Charlie would have to do was watch and take her cues from what Angel did. She could make it work.

After the fireworks, she caught up with her sisterwives, glad they weren't asking too many questions. She just wanted to talk about the twins and how everyone had been without her. Angel was happy to see her, giving Charlie a careful hug, her baby bump serving as a large barrier. As Charlie stood talking to Homie and Kimora, she looked over and saw Erik coming her way. That was her cue to leave.

“Hold on, Shy.” He spoke before running over to Charlie. “Ayye,” he said before grabbing a hold of her arm to stop her. She froze as she felt his touch, stopping in her tracks. “Where you headed off too? You leavin already, Charlie?”

Charlie turned around with a deep breath to look at him before speaking. “Yeah Daka, I’m a bit tired. I wanna head home and rest.”

“Home huh?” Erik said, looking her over, analyzing her body language. She did look tired, but she also looked nervous…. he could tell she was hiding something. He also noticed how she had unconsciously placed her hand on her belly. He decided he’d let her off easy this time, wanting her to come to him on her own. He wouldn’t let her keep her secret for too long however.

“Alright princess, take it easy then.” He said as he went in for hug. Being sure to take in the scent of her full hair.

“Y-yeah, I will.” Charlie said as warmth filled her body from Erik’s tight hug. Her sensitive body quickly being effected from his touch. She was sure she was covered in goosebumps.

Dammit, she thought feeling powerless all over again. No matter how far away she went physically and mentally, he still had this effect.

“Alright Daka, let me go big boy.” She said with a laugh, ready to get away from him. Her thoughts were becoming too clouded & she was afraid she’d do something she’d regret.

Finally Erik loosened his grip, giving her his signature smirk. Naturally he knew what effect he was having on her, he always did.

“I’ll let you go. For now.” He said, his eyes filling with fire & a promise. 

---

"He's watching us," Charlie blurted over the phone when Trevante picked up. She was changing out of the white and gold gown in her hotel room that had become more of an apartment. "Remember what I said to you?"

Trevante wasn't afraid and no matter what Charlie said or how much money she offered him to leave and start over elsewhere in financial comfort and safety, he wasn't with it. "Have some faith, shawty. It'll be okay." She could hear the buzzing of his clippers in the background. He was so unbothered.

Charlie on the other hand was sick physically and with stress. Trevante said to take a test and common sense told her to take a test, but she didn't want to take it and see a positive because then she'd have to deal with the fallout and plan the rest of her life around a surprise factor. She put it off like she pocketed her feelings for her husband.

"Hello? Charlie.. Charlie.." She heard the clippers stop.

"Huh? Sorry, I zoned out thinking about the chaos that is my life!"

"You're the one who has to make the decisions. Don't panic until you take a test." Solid advice.

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark