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graysoncritic · 18 days

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A (Negative) Analysis of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - Introduction

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

I want to start this essay by admitting I’m actually embarrassed by its length. Why did I spend so much time on something I dislike? The truth is, I did not begin this with the intention of creating such an extensive, formal study of the Tom Taylor and Bruno Redondo’s Nightwing run and how it reflects the wider problems with DC’s handling of one of their most iconic characters. I was just trying to organize the thoughts that came up during discussions with other Dick Grayson fans. Before I knew it, I had enough material, enough desire to challenge myself, and enough frustrations to vent to properly create this monstrosity.

I did not begin this Nightwing run determined to hate it. In fact, I was ready to love it. As Taylor promoted the run before the first issue was officially released, I was so excited for it. As I read short interviews where he discussed Heartless, I could not wait to have a new, incredible villain. Foolishly, I believed Taylor when he said he loved Dick Grayson.

Needless to say, I was disappointed. Then frustrated. Then angry. The beginning of any story is a period where writer and reader form an indirect bond, and as the story progresses, so do the highs and the lows of said relationship. As such, a reader’s tolerance for negative factors will either increase or decrease depending on their experience up until that point.

In other words, if the writer fails to earn the reader’s trust and instead takes their attention for granted, even seemingly insignificant details become irritating in a way they would not be if presented in a better story. In such scenarios, the reader can no longer overlook those minor moments because there’s little good to balance them out with. It is a death by a thousand cuts.

In the case of Taylor and Redondo’s run, along with those thousand cuts are also broken bones, internal bleeding, head trauma, and severed limbs. A weak plot, simplistic morality that undermines the story’s stated themes, and, most importantly, a careless disregard for Dick Grayson and everything he stands for utterly destroyed my enjoyment of this series.

It is still too early to tell what sort of impact Taylor’s (as of time of writing, still unfinished) run will have on Dick Grayson’s future portrayals. But just because we cannot predict its long term significance, it does not mean we cannot critique it. Currently, we simply lack the benefit of hindsight.

If this essay were to have a thesis, then it is this: Tom Taylor and Bruno Redondo’s Nightwing not only fails to tell a compelling Nightwing story, but it also exemplifies a cynical, self-serving, and shallow approach to storytelling that prioritizes creating hollow viral moments to boost the creators’ own online popularity over crafting a good story, honoring the character in their care, and respecting his fans – fans who have, historically, often been women, queer folk, and other individuals who felt othered by a cisheteronormative patriarchal society. Taylor and Redondo’s thoughtless and superficial narrative not only undermine the socially progressive ideals they supposedly care for by propagating a cisheteronormative patriarchal worldview, but they also demonstrate a lack of love and understanding for the character in their care. At best, Taylor and Redondo have no interest in getting to know Dick Grayson, nor any respect for their predecessor and their contributions to this character. At worst, they despise Dick so much that they wish to reinvent him into something completely different, tossing away everything that was special to his fans in order to appeal to a readership that never cared about Dick Grayson.

I structured this essay so that, hopefully, each part will build on the ones that came prior. Naturally, because all aspects of a story are interlaced, there will be overlaps between each of the sections. As it may have become obvious from this introduction, I’ll be focusing primarily on the writing of this run. That is not to say that I will not address the art, but writing is the field I know most about, and so it feels only fair to focus my critique on that.

I hope that by the end of this essay, I will have successfully proved that this run’s mishandling of different narrative elements betray a cynical appropriation of progressive ideology and a disregard and disinterest in what makes Dick Grayson so special to so many people. This is an attitude that is present within DC Comics’ current ethos as a whole.

Now, who is this essay for? Honestly, it’s probably not for Tom Taylor fans. I do not believe I’ll be persuading anyone with my writing, and, to be quite honest, neither would I say I wish to do so. Taylor and Redondo’s run has won numerous awards and has many dedicated fans who adore it for what it is. If that is you, then I’m glad. I wish I could be among your numbers. I wish more than anything that I could love this story. But I do not, and I know many others agree with me, and it is to them, I think, that I’m speaking to. As Taylor’s run is praised to heaven and back, I needed a safe space to voice my thoughts. This essay became this safe space. And to others who also feel unseen by the constant praise this run is getting, I think this could speak to you, as well. To be cliche and cringe, this will hopefully let you know that you are not alone.

Finally, I want to acknowledge some people whose thoughts greatly contributed to the creation of this essay. For around three years now I’ve been having wonderful interactions with other Dick Grayson’s fans, and those discussions were not only incredibly fun and cathartic, but also provided great insight into what needed to be included in this essay. My best friend especially gave me a space to vent when I got frustrated, and my original outline borrowed a lot from the messages I sent her, as well as notes I took for our discussions.

I’ll also be directly quoting four different Dick Grayson fans (identified as Dick Grayson Fans A, B, and C in order to allow them to keep their anonymity). Their analyses were so critical to the formation of my thesis and for a lot of what will be addressed in this essay that I actually feel like they deserve co-credit in this essay. Dick Grayson Fan B especially deserves a shoutout in helping me track down a couple of pages used as supporting evidence, as I knew what pages I was looking for but was having a hard time remembering in which issue they were located. I’m quoting them with permission, and crediting their ideas and contributions whenever relevant.

Now, without any further ado, let’s get started.

#nightwing #dick grayson #anti tom taylor

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lauraroselam · 11 months

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So I wrote this weird book about queer dragons. It came out the same day as the other dragon book everyone talks about. It was a Sunday Times bestseller in the UK, though, which was incredible!

However, I'm not sure how to continue to promote this book--people either seem to really like it, or not quite get it. Or it just wasn't what they expected. Which is fine, no book can please everyone, and I knew I'd made some unusual craft choices that was going to make it more marmite. (Or, as my brain tells me at midnight, I'm just a bad writer). However, there's that librarian saying "every book its reader" and the people who love this book REALLY love it, and that makes me so happy. So I decided to write this post and explain its weirdness and lay out what you can expect if you do pick it up. Maybe you're my kind of odd, too. :-)

Short pitch: 800 years ago, dragons and humans were bonded, then humans were dicks, stole the dragons' magic, and banished them to a dying world. But humans have short memories, forgot, and now worship dragons as gods. The dragon "gods" remember, and they do not forgive.

Thief Arcady steals their grandsire's stone seal (which helps them funnel magic) from their tomb. Their grandsire supposedly released a magical plague that killed a proportion of society, and Arcady is locked out of society as a result. They perform a spell to rewrite the seal to have a new identity as they want to go to university at the Citadel and also clear their family's name. Problem? The spell also accidentally calls through Everen, the last male dragon, trapped in human form. Everen has been foretold to save his kind, and now he has a chance: he just has to convince one little human to trust him mind, body, and soul, and then kill them. Then he'll be able to steal the human's magic back, rip a hole in the Veil, and the dragons can return. Good news for dragons, less good news for humans. As you might expect: this does not go to plan. Because emotions.

Grab it now. (Note: there's still a contractual delay so it's not available in US audiobook yet, annoyingly. Hopefully soon). (If you are like "weird queer dragons?! Sign me up" but aren't interested in hearing why the author has made certain decisions and want to go into the text cold, stop here! Death of the author/birth of the reader, etc. Otherwise, carry on.)

You should pick up Dragonfall if:

You like experimental narrative positions! It's all collected by an unnamed archivist who has access to both first person narratives (Arcady, the genderfluid human thief, Everen the hot dragon) and can scry into the past and draw out third person narratives (Sorin, hot priest assassin. Cassia, Everen's sister, who is also hot. Spoiler: everyone in this book is hot). Then to make it even weirder, Everen's bits are technically in first person direct address, so he's writing it all to Arcady (the first chapter ends with: "For that human was, of course, you. And this is our story, Arcady.") I ended up writing it this way for a few reasons, even though it probably would have been simpler to just stick to straight up third throughout, like most epic fantasy does. The big one is that Arcady is genderfluid and uses any pronouns (I tend to default to they when I talk about them outside of the text), and constantly gendering them in the text felt wrong whether I used he, she, or they. This way bypasses that a lot in the first volume, so it's up to the reader to make up their own mind. I also just really love first person direct address as a narrative position. It can be a little confronting, and it makes Everen the dragon sound a bit more predatory at the start. But it's also quite intimate. Is he writing his sections as an apology, or a love letter? Both? You find out at the end. So if your green flag books are: The Fifth Season, The Raven Tower, or Harrow the Ninth, this might also be your jam.

You love classic 90s fantasy. This is in many ways an homage to all the stuff I read growing up: Robin Hobb and the Realm of the Elderlings (the book is dedicated to Hobb in particular), the Dragonriders of Pern, Tad Williams, Lynn Flewelling, Robert Jordan, Mercedes Lackey, Tamora Pierce, etc. But I wanted to give it a more modern twist. I'm NB and growing up I didn't see a lot of queerness in fantasy, and I clung to the examples I did find (Vanyel, the Fool). Also, not 90s fantasy, but I also freaking loved Seraphina by Rachel Hartman and Priory of the Orange Tree, so those were influences too.

You're not put off by Worldbuilding(TM) and a slower pace. Probably because I grew up on the likes of Tad Williams, I honestly love slow-paced fantasy. I love to luxuriate in a world and take my time getting to know a made up world. In Assassin's Quest it takes over 100 pages for Fitz to leave the forest. Love it. I have a more lyrical writing style, I guess, and I'm pretty descriptive. My stuff always tends to start off slower, set the stage, and then ramps up the pace as we get further along. So yes, my book starts out with some infodumping, depending on your tolerance level of that sort of thing. I worked with a linguist and they made a conlang for the dragon language (hi @seumasofur). There's a map by Deven Rue (cartographer for Critical Role). I got nerdy.

You love queernorm fantasy! This is set in a world where it's considered rude to assume a stranger's gender and so you tend to default to they/them. If you consider someone much higher in status than you, you'd capitalise it to the honorific, such as They/Them. Once you get to know someone, you tend to flash your pronouns to them with a hand signal, since a sign language called Trade is also a lingua franca in the world. 99.95% of all the dragons are also lesbians, BTW. Everen is the last male dragon.

You like frankly silly levels of slow burn. Everen and Arcady can't physically touch without it causing Everen pain while they're half-bonded. They may or may not find creative loopholes. But it's not mega mega spicy, if you're expecting that. I expect the spice levels will gradually go up as the series progresses.

Alright, I think that's more than enough to give you a sense of what you'd find in Dragonfall. If you're open to sharing this post so it reaches more people outside of my little corner of the internet, I'd really appreciate it. Whenever I do any bit of self-promo, I'm always so anxious and worry it'll get like, 2 eyeballs on it anyway or that I'm just annoying people by mentioning that my art even exists. And if you end up liking it, please tell a friend.

I'm loving the recent dragon renaissance! Long live dragons.

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genderkoolaid · 1 year

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I recently listened to the Jules Gill-Peterson episode of Gender Reveal. In it, she argues that the histories of transmasc and transfem people are essentially disconnected until the 80s or so, in part because transmascs migrated to rural areas and went stealth, whereas transfems moved to cities like New York and San Francisco and formed communities. (This brief summary does not do her justice, please read the transcript or listen before responding.) What do you think of her argument? Do you have any historical records that confirm, refute, or complicate it?

So generally I agree with her. Obviously this is specifically about US history, but I agree that transmascs historically have sought isolation to stay stealth where transfems have formed a lot of communities (although thats not to say there havent also been stealth transfems in history). She does bring up transmasculinity in lesbian spaces although its very brief. I kind of wish she focused on it more because I feel like acting as though trans men who lived in stealth isolation from other queers is The transmasc historical narrative erases a lot of the complex ways transmascs lived, and lesbian spaces have always been a MAJOR part of that. Drag masculinity was one way historical transmascs could engage in transmasculinity, and also took place largely in cities & drag kings absolutely interacted with drag queens, so I don't think there wasn't any places where historical transmascs & transfems shared spaces. But she's also a transfem and it makes sense that her focus is more on transfem history & its intricacies.

Honestly I think that the idea that transmascs going stealth vs transfems finding community isn't the interesting thing here. That's whatever. What's more interesting in my opinion is the questions of

Chicken or the egg (ha): do transmascs go stealth instead of forming communities because there were no communities and therefore no awareness that others existed, or was there no community because everyone went stealth?

What is the origin of this difference between transmascs and transfems? What factors influence the difference in our histories?

Listening to modern non-western transmascs talk, I've gotten the idea that part of this comes from how women in patriarchal societies have more restrictions, and often aren't allowed to go out on their own, which limits their ability to find queer spaces and connect with other transmascs. I think there might also be something to be said about the idea that cis society may tend to react to transfems with "you should be cast out" and transmascs as "you should be fixed", but that's just an idea + it's definitely not black-and-white.

Going back to the first question, I'm inclined to believe that they lack of community/awareness came first: I think part of the reason for so many trans men going stealth is because many of them weren't aware other trans men existed, so they had a mindset of "I have to find a way to survive without being outed", whereas transfems knew other transfems existed and so their first step was "find other people like me". I imagine that's also the reason for the difference between stealth trans men and lesbian trans men: maybe people who weren't aware of lesbian spaces were more likely to go stealth, and people who were aware of lesbian spaces joined them for the same reason transfems sought out other transfems. See this quote from a Korean trans man:

"[T]here is nobody that we can really call “older generation.” In Korea FTM identification and transition only began when they learned that such a thing was possible. Before they felt like they didn’t belong in their bodies. The lack of words made it impossible for them to understand what that feeling meant. FTM trans people that are older than me, those in their 40-60s, understood their situation late. Most of them had lived their lives as lesbians until the 1990s. When the Internet started providing information, only after this began, they understood who they were and started treatment."

That's also why the transmasc community only really started after transmascs started getting widespread attention (coinciding with the rise of the Internet as well), because suddenly younger transmascs weren't either becoming butches or going stealth- they knew others existed and wanted to find them. (As a side note: I got the idea for a historical fiction story exploring the idea of some kind of "transmasc secret society", because I'm sure there was some point in history where at least a few guys found each other).

I think its important to ask these questions lest we fall into the trap of "transmascs just love their male privilege and want to preserve it and have never done anything for the trans community, unlike transfems, who are the real trans people". That ignores how transandrophobia has shaped the behavior of transmascs.

I do have another criticism: maybe she's doing this on purpose, but I feel like its extremely oversimplifying the history of how people treated crossdressing women to say that it was seen as just a cool thing. There was definitely a different attitude to the idea of women crossdressing for survival, but (and this might be kind of nit-picky but its something that gets on my nerves so humor me):

If you weren't crossdressing for survival, that was a problem. I am of the opinion that a good amount of women/"women" who would make this argument when they got caught crossdressing were doing so because "'I'm doing it to survive!" would probably get you some sympathy, but "I'm doing this cause I like it!" would get you. you know. jailed for crossdressing & labeled an invert. And there is an expectation there that, if you no longer need to do that to survive, you would stop doing it, and to insist on continuing to do that would, again, get you labeled an invert.

I just in general really really dislike hearing people say "well the patriarchy wants everyone to be a man" because No It Does Not. its similar to that post that goes "bi women are told they should be lesbians and lesbians are told they should be bi but the actual goal is for there to be no queer women at all". Cis women might be told they would be worth more if they were men, but thats another case of generalized "man" being used to erase cisness. Cis women need to be cis women (and therefore wives & mothers), thats why women/"women" are so heavily controlled. You may have cases of "father wanted a boy so he makes his daughter live as a son" but that has always been seen as abnormal or even cruel. The idea of invert women and women who crossdress as man because of their ~evil sinful desires~ is not new (One scientist estimated "that one woman in every 3,000 is the victim of this strange mania")

I think crossdressing women historically were reported on with a sense of awe partially because I think a lot of people didn't realize how easy it is to pass and so the idea of a man being secretly a woman, or vice versa, was something unbelievable (a lot of old news articles about these people I've read spent a lot of time focusing on how no one could tell and being shocked at them voting & marrying women). Also because a lot of them were only outed in death so there wasn't a living person to confront or arrest. But I think we should hesitate to take news reports that saw them as some interesting headline to mean "people thought they were cool and treated them well" (especially in situations where we only have stuff like headlines & we may not know exactly how people felt about the person). Looking through my hoard of historical trans men resources, you have stories like Augustus Baudouin, a 17 year old who was outed after being put in prison for robbery. After being placed in the women's ward, his "repugnance to appear in women's attire" was so great that he hung himself. Even if the headline called him "extraordinary", being outed ended with him dead (in a way that grimly mirrors transmasc suicide deaths today). Christine Vensettie was also arrested so he could be forced to get "treatment" for his crossdressing. Edward De Lacy Evans's story shows a bit of what "treatment" can mean (namely, medical abuse & sexual assault) and was literally put in a freak show.

This isn't to say that the violence and repulsion Western society has long held towards transfems isn't bad or anything, just that I feel like portraying the history of society's reaction to female crossdressers like this ignores a lot of complexity. Also "the patriarchy wants women to be men" is like the #1 TERF belief when it comes to trans men, so I'm always on edge whenever anyone says it or something like it because it contributes to the belief that society really is trying to influence young girls to transition. I think people, when talking about passing trans men, always focus a lot on what happens when we pass and talk far less about the consequences when we don't.

Anyways this got much longer than I initially planned lmao. In general I agree with her, she obviously knows a lot and I'm also sure this was just a snippet of her beliefs on this topic. In my opinion one of the big questions about transmasculinity to work through is that of our history, because its so easy to compare it to transfems and see how little there is in comparison. And I think, besides just wanting to know more about our history, its important to investigate this to understand more about how transandrophobia works. Erasure is one of the biggest parts of transandrophobia and exploring why our existence has been erased in the past, and how that erasure has impacted our lives, will help us fight erasure today and in the future. So I hope to see more people going past just "transmascs tended to go stealth" and examine the factors which influenced this & why, across the world, transmascs tend to be erased and isolated while transfems tend to have communities and specific terms.

#m.#ask box #transmasc history #suicide tw

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

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WIBTA for unintentionally getting my cousin’s number and not tell him i’m not a date

I (24 FtM) came out as a trans queer man to my extended family when i was 18 years old, despite my (queerphobic) parents’ disagreement, fully knowing the reactions wouldn’t be positive for the majority. i was just done with having to hide, and indirectly be ashamed of, this huge part of myself to the people i used to grow up with, and couldn’t bare keeping it a bashful secret any longer, putting myself at risk to lose touch with them all. which happened. gradually, i lost contact, or intentionally cut contact, with most of my family members (close and extended), moved out and started transitioning. i also got top surgery last year, and am now four and half years on T.

so i did change, physically and mentally (for the better), to the point i know some people from my family who haven’t seen me in five years, wouldn’t recognize me if i didn’t tell them.

all this to say: a little over a week ago, i went to this gay club / bar, when i was asked my number by a guy who was there too. i knew i knew him from somewhere else, but i was a tipsy, dizzy from dancing my lungs out, and the lightning was tamed, so i didn’t catch on immediately and couldn’t properly see his face, and so i simply accepted to exchange numbers. nothing else happened with this guy this night, i only added my num to his contacts, talked and maybe flirted a little, and then he had to leave (he was with some friends).

only hours later, back home, will i realize this guy was in fact my eldest cousin (26 M) in with whom i haven’t talked in five years. i remember he was one of the only person who didn’t react badly to my coming out, though he didn’t quite understand it either. i had to cut contact with him when his mother, my aunt, tried to call and threat me through him / by calling from his phone number so i wouldn’t hang up immediately.

we used to be very close, and though i have moved on now from my family life, i do catch myself missing him from times to times, and would’ve like to contact him again. i just didn’t know how, and was scared he might have started agreeing with the rest of the family on my account. but by his presence at the gay club, i suppose not.

i didn’t text him right away to tell him i was, in fact, his cousin, and not just a random dude he met at the bar. i still don’t know how to approach this. three days ago, he texted me first, asking if i would like to meet up again. and, without thinking, i said sure. and still didn’t add on the crucial information. i am scared of what might happen if it tell him. would he suddenly resent me? or worse, call back our family and tell them what happened of me, giving away where i now live. i don’t want to contact with the rest of them again, but if i could gain my favorite cousin back, maybe just as a friend, it would mean a lot to me.

i still haven’t texted him, and i won’t lie and say i haven’t been contemplating the idea of just, never telling him, and just say i’m not ready for more but would love to stay friends. we are supposed to meet at the beginning of next week.

and before you guys start thinking anything weird, i do not, in any way shape or form, want to pursue anything of sexual nature with my cousin! i think this is, as well as being immoral, a disgusting and horrendous idea

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ineffable-rohese · 7 months

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Good Omens, or the Disruption of Gay = Death

CW: historical homophobic violence and death

@queerfables recently wrote an excellent meta on slash fiction and the concept of "Taking Away the Glass". I had some thoughts, which I was going to add as a reblog, but this seems to spiraled away from the original post, so I'm posting this on its own, but I'm referencing their ideas and references, so maybe go read that first.

This is especially for those of you who are, say, under 25 (which is apparently most of Tumblr), and who haven't had much opportunity to learn queer history. Let me say, I'm not a queer historian. I am a queer who has lived through recent history and can reasonably clearly remember the last at least 35 years of it, and I was fortunate to have had schooling that did include some earlier queer history and didn't shy away from queer topics. (I recognize now what a revolutionary bit of teaching that was.)

I also want to acknowledge that I'm writing from a place of relative privilege, as a white cis woman living in a progressive part of North America, and that some of what is history for me is still life for others. I am speaking from my own personal experiences here -they are by no means universal. But I think it's important for us to share our stories, so this is part of mine.

When You're Dying in America, at the End of the Millenium

Fables quotes a video by thingswithwings as saying "Homosexuality, or just loving touch between two people of the same gender, is equivalent to death in this media narrative." In the 1980s and 1990s, when Good Omens was written and first published, that wasn't a metaphor. When I was a baby proto-queer, what I heard about being gay was that it killed you.

My formative memories of what it meant to be gay weren't pride parades or even riots. It was gay men dying by the thousands and governments and religious leaders ignoring them at best, and welcoming their deaths at worst. To be gay, and a gay man in particular, was to be marked for death. It wasn't until a straight white boy who got it from a blood transfusion died that AIDS became something that "normal" people had any empathy for and governments really started to act.

The gay representation I rember in the media as a moderately sheltered child from the 80s and 90s with left-of-center middle class white parents was news about AIDS, Philadelphia (death from AIDS), Ellen (cancelled after she came out), and eventually RENT (desperately trying not to die of AIDS or capitalism). I knew a very small handful of out gay adults, and no trans adults at all.

My first time being in a large group of queer people was a vigil for Matthew Sheppard, who had been beaten and left to die tied to a fence. I remember being terrified. I wasn't out yet. I knew people who hated us might be there, this group of mostly young queer people gathering with candles to cry over a boy we'd never met, and over the many others who had died just for being what we were. I'd never even kissed a girl yet. I only knew my queerness in relation to death.

In the last decade or so of the 20th century, being queer was about grasping any bit of joy you could from a world that very clearly would prefer you were dead. It was defiance and anger and fear every time you held your love's hand, or kissed them in public. My second date with the person who would become my spouse was interrupted by some dude in a truck shouting slurs at us was we walked down a quiet street. We laughed it off - no one had thrown anything, or beaten us, so it wasn't a big deal. It should have been a big deal, but we couldn't let it be. When you're marked for misery and death, you can't let the little things get to you. You just hold each other's hands as tightly as you can and defiantly keep walking.

An Angel and a Demon and Immortality

Good Omens was written during some of the darkest days of the AIDS epidemic (which is still ongoing, by the way), before there were effective treatments, when gay = death. It is a mainstream, mass-market book. It wouldn't be shelved in the "Gay and Lesbian" section at the book store, it would be shelved with humour, or possibly fantasy.

And yet, here we have these two beings. An angel and a demon, with an unlikely friendship, and who are very clearly written as gay. Or, at least, as percieved as gay by outside observers. Aziraphale in particular is (in one of my favorite lines) "gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide," and "THE southern pansy" (self-proclaimed). Together, they are "consenting bicycle repairmen" (Neil Gaiman's explanation for context) who Anathema was safe with the whole time.

Whether you caught the subtextual shippyness of their relationship (and to be honest, I only did a little when I first read it), they were very obviously written as precieved-gay characters, in a story where their precieved gay-ness wasn't the cause of their downfall. Yes, an 11 year old calls Aziraphale a faggot. But he doesn't get arrested or beaten of killed - he just gets covered in cake. And he loves cake! The attempted insult just rolls off him like water off a duck's back, because he has no pressure not to be visibly gay.

Becuase, see, unlike us humans, unlike his gay contemporaries, he is not marked for death. He's an angel. He's immortal. Even more, he was made by God, exactly how God wanted, presumably, and that is intelligent, English, and so very gay.

Niel and Terry are saying so much here. You can be gay and loved. You can be gay and have a deep relationship. You can be gay because that's how God made you. You can be gay forever, through all time, with someone beside you, finding joy in your life.

You can be gay and not die. You can be gay and live.

#good omens meta #queer history #aids history #this one's personal #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #death #hiv/aids #homophobia

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nerdygaymormon · 4 months

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so you're staying you stay in church out of fear?

Why someone stays or leaves can be complex, that is true for me.

The person who asked that question wanted to know why I didn't leave the church when I figured out I am gay. I was a teenager in the 1980's, so yes, I stayed in the closet and at church, at least partly, out of fear. Same for my twenties when I lived in LDS communities.

I was dependent on my family as a teen. I didn't want to lose the tuition and credits I'd paid for at the church schools. I didn't want to lose my job. Being gay felt like having a secret which would destroy everything in my life if other people discovered it.

Being Mormon was part of my identity and how I viewed the world. I didn't hear positive things about queer people or have any examples of gay people who had positively navigated life.

You may think of me as a coward and that I should've been braver. Maybe so, but it was my life and I did what seemed best for me according to my understandings at the time.

Let me share a story with you. My freshman year of college, I had a roommate who became my best friend. At the end of the semester he came out to me as bi, and I to him as gay, and for a little while we were boyfriend and boyfriend. I was making plans for that summer, We would transfer to another school, I would say goodbye to my family, and we'd walk away from the LDS Church. I was willing to give up the certainty of the life I had for this shot at happiness. He felt too much dissonance from his Mormon upbringing and he turned us into the bishop, which crushed me. I was put on probation and had to check in weekly with the bishop for a few months or else get kicked out of college, get outed to my family, and lose everything without anything to show for it. I share this to show that I was willing to give up everything I knew if it looked like there was a reason to do so.

There's positive benefits to being a member of this faith community, there are spiritual experiences I've had which are important to me, but don't think that because I am currently a member of the LDS Church means I agree with everything the church teaches. There's things I can't reconcile between my identities of being gay and being Mormon, and I now understand the harm that happened to me from when I believed the hurtful things church taught about people like me.

I get why people keep asking me some form of the question about why I'm a gay Mormon, it seems like an oxymoron and is not the usual path. It feels vulnerable to be open in sharing these very personal thoughts and feelings, and I share in hopes it creates greater understanding.

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privfilth · 5 months

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Yj and sb

Being best friends with a gay person never bothered Yeonjun. He never judged anyone, especially his Soobin. Even when Soobin moved in - Yeonjun never felt any sort of tension. Tonight they were at a gay bar, Soobin to find a rebound for his latest failed relationship, and Yeonjun for moral support. Soobin was painfully shy, and Yeonjun couldn’t give a fuck about approaching anyone.

Yeonjun had been questioning himself after spending more and more time around queer people. They were so inclusive, kind, and fun. He felt like he could be his true self around them. But here were certain things he still kept hidden.

He couldn’t talk about how it felt when he saw men holding hands or kissing. Even his friends, he felt like he should look away but he couldn’t help but just stare. He helped soobin find someone at the bar. Soobin’s choice was… interesting to Yeonjun. He didn’t seem like Soobin’s type.

He knew to keep an eye on Soobin and look out for their secret hand gesture they make when they need to be saved by the other and get the fuck out of there. Yeonjun didn’t mind, he always enjoyed chatting up the women at the bar, hoping to god they were bi and that he could take one of them home. He’d hate to be staying up all night waiting for Soobins guest to leave all by himself.

He got distracted when he saw the man soobin had approached move closer to Soobin to whisper in his ear. Soobin laughed and put his hand over the stranger’s. Things seemed to be going well until Soobin got up and excused himself. He headed straight for Yeonjun.

“Bathroom,” he said pushing past Yeonjun so their shoulders collided. “Sure..” going to the bathroom was a common occurrence between the two - they went everywhere together. Soobin, in a hurry, grabbed Yeonjun by his hand and dragged him into the disgusting bathroom behind him.

“Is it not going well?” Yeonjun was curious, Soobin was very inexperienced when it came to dating. His most recent relationship ended because Soobin genuinely could not satisfy his partner. He was crushed. All he wanted was to make his other half feel good- but the stage fright kept things in the bedroom very bland and brief.

“I need to get out of here-“ Soobins voice was desperate. “You’re telling me, not one bi chick- all lesbians” Yeonjun rolled his eyes thinking about how unlucky he was that night. “Make an excuse for me?” Soobin pleaded with praying hands and a pout. Yeonjun rolled his eyes again “You have absolutely no game. You know that?” He turned to leave when he felt soobins hand grab his wrist. He turned around to soobin blushing. “He wants me to go back to his place.” Yeonjun shoved him by his shoulder and chuckled “well duh, how else are you going to get over your bum ex. Try and convince him to come to ours, though. So I can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe. Now if only I could find someone-“

“No. I don’t want to” Soobin was assertive and threw his hands over his face. “I just want to go home. Take me home ?” Yeonjun knew exactly what Soobin needed.

They found themselves hiding while they schemed. “Alright, just go up and say you have to leave. I’ll take care of the rest.” Soobin approached his new almost love interest and formed his mouth into a straight line. He bowed his head. “I’m afraid I have to get going. Have a good night!” Soobin stood there for a good 3 seconds waiting for him to respond. “Oh cmon…” he said with a grin that had Soobins skin crawling. “That hurts my feelings. You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?” He brought his face closer to soobins again.

Soobin closed his eyes tight and held his breath as if he could wish himself away from this situation. Where was Yeonjun?

“Babe !!!!” Soobin heard as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. Yeonjun continued with over the top fake slurred speech. “I’m drunk. Take me home…” the older said with a pout. Soobin let out a fake, exaggerated gasp “sweetie ! I’m sorry I gotta go, thank you for the drink”

As they walked away the stranger spoke loud enough for the room to go almost silent “you have to be fucking kidding me! Is this your boyfriend?” Soobins first instinct was to say no, and Yeonjun knew this and knew he had to act fast. “Yes ! I sure am” the lie made Soobin smirk. Yeonjun took the opportunity to poke soobins dimple - something he hadn’t done for too long.

“You look straight as an arrow - I don’t believe you. He’s just a fucking tease” he could see right through their act and he wasn’t taking the rejection well. Yeonjun was offended. He didn’t “look” gay? What did that even mean. Without warning, Yeonjun put his arm around Soobin again. - this time he planted a kiss on his cheek. Yeonjun became very affectionate when he was intoxicated. But he couldn’t have been too drunk- this was just a part of the act. The stranger scoffed and the fake couple turned around and left hand in hand.

The train ride back to their apartment was noisey. It was pride month, and all the gays were going out every weekend to the hottest bars and clubs, drinking and hooking up. Yeonjun saw a couple standing across the way from them - holding each other tightly.

The couple were drunkenly making out. Hands exploring each others bodies. Yeonjun was no prude, but the way their bodies were moving together made him blush. One man had his hand on his partners chest- while the other reached around and was squeezing his ass. Yeonjun cleared his throat and stood up at the next stop.

When they made their way into their apartment, soobin began to complain about his ex. “I told him I was out looking for a good fuck tonight- I don’t even know what that would be like! He’s totally going to know I struck out. So much for making him jealous” Yeonjun threw his apartment key on the counter and walked to the fridge- taking out a bottle of soju. He immediately poured shots for the two of them and joined Soobin on the couch. “There’s no way he’s going to know you didn’t fuck anyone tonight. And it doesn’t matter. The not knowing is what drives them crazy” Yeonjun assured him.

They kept drinking and decided to play some video games. As they drank, their playing got sloppier and sloppier. Those two hours were spent laughing together, yelling at each other, and whoever won comforting the other. “It’s midnight” Soobin said plainly. Not because he was ready for bed, but because he just wanted to relax. And he knew just what he needed.

Soobin took the top off of the coffee table and reached in to grab a jar of flower and some rolling papers. Yeonjun watched with a smirk. No matter how drunk he was, Soobin was able to roll a joint perfectly. Yeonjun would often get more weed on the rolling tray than in the actual paper. He watched intently at the way his friends fingers pinched and rolled. When he stuck out his tongue to seal, Yeonjun felt his jaw clench. Giant hands holding the small joint, veiny and steady. And that tongue, darting out, pink and wet.

“Have you ever done anything to make someone jealous?” Soobin lit up and inhaled deeply. The smoke came pouring back out, he quickly inhaled it through his nose then let it all out with one big exhale. Yeonjun found it satisfying when he did that, he liked watching. He was always watching.

“Not intentionally, there was this girl in high school… she danced with another guy while I was in the bathroom at prom. So I fucked her best friend in my car at the after party” it was Yeonjuns turn to take a puff . On exhale he let out a dry cough. He was more of a drinker - Soobin being more of a smoker. He continued “when she saw me the next morning with a hickey- it was all over.”

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” Soobin didn’t put it past his friend to do something so selfish back in the day. “I should’ve had that dude at least give me a hickey …” Yeonjun passed the joint back with his eyebrows furrowed “what, Mr. Fruity?? No chance. And we aren’t in high school.”

Soobin inhaled and exhaled “what if you gave me one?” Yeonjun let the room go silent and played with his hands. “I don’t know, man. That’s a little-“ Soobin looked at the floor “gay?… I know you’re not gay, which is why I asked. I figured it wouldn’t be weird..” he looked up at Yeonjun through hooded lids and handed him the joint “please?…”

Yeonjun let out a heavy sigh. How could he say no. Soobin was desperate to make his ex jealous - and Yeonjun couldn’t deny that he selfishly wanted to see what it would be like. Plus, he was drunk “Fuck it”

They were facing each other on the couch and the joint was burning itself out in the ash tray. Soobin reached out for Yeonjun and Yeonjun flinched. “Sorry….” He didn’t want to seem too excited, because this was just a favor between bros. But he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t eager.

“Okay- where do you want it?” Yeonjun ghosted his fingers over the side of Soobin’s neck and studied the area. Soobin leaned his head to the side, exposing every muscle vein and tendon in his thick neck. Yeonjun swallowed hard. The alcohol was starting to make faking confidence easier. Soobin grabbed Yeonjun’s hand and placed two of his fingers over a visible area of skin “right there, I think. “ “okay… are you sure this isn’t weird?” Yeonjun wanted one last confirmation that this was okay. “No, please just get to it” Soobin closed his eyes.

Yeonjun leaned in and parted his lips. He lightly placed his lips on Soobin’s sensitive skin, taking it in between his lips and sucking. Soobin took a quick breath and clenched his fists by his sides. Yeonjun released his flesh and looked at it “not quite” he said before going back in. This got a heavy sigh out of Soobin, and Yeonjun liked the sound of it.

Soobin began to squirm and could feel blood rushing to his cock. ‘No no not now!!’ He thought. Yeonjun detached his mouth from Soobin’s neck and sat back, admiring his own handy work. His eyes met Soobin’s when he noticed them darken. Soobin inched closer bringing one of his hands into Yeonjun’s hair and pulling him in.

“More.. please..”

Yeonjun leaned in and placed a kiss to the purple mark, and kissed up a little further. He inched his way up towards Soobin’s jaw. Soobin moved his arms around Yeonjun’s neck and pulled him down so he was laying on top.

They were making out now - for what felt like forever. A mess of teeth and tongues. Soobins hips bucked up Yeonjuns, making him hiss. Yeonjuns mind was racing. He was now experiencing what he was so curious about. A man’s touch, a man’s mouth, a man’s hips. He ground down into soobins crotch with his own hardened length.

They continued like this for minutes. It kind of felt juvenile. First a hickey and now dry humping on a couch ? It felt nostalgic to Yeonjun. But he needed more more and more. Soobin undid Yeonjun’s belt buckle and began to pull down his pants. Yeonjun let him without hesitation.

Soobin didn’t bother teasing, and dove straight into Yeonjun’s briefs, wrapping his hand around his hard cock. “Fuck..” Yeonjun let his head hang down. Soobin looked at him with his big brown eyes. All innocent and beautiful. This made Yeonjun want to take care of Soobin - even tho he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

He unbuckled Soobin’s pants and began stroking him, kissing his lips hastily. He pulled Soobin’s shirt up and kissed his chest. He took one of his nipples into his mouth and bit it, before soothing it with his tongue. Soobin sucked in air between his teeth.

Yeonjun had received head plenty of times before - he could give it, right ? Well, there’s a first time for everything. Soobin sat up when Yeonjun’s face became parallel to Soobin’s tented boxers. “You don’t have to…” Yeonjun silenced him by palming him through is underwear and pulling them down to set his cock free.

Yeonjun looked up at Soobin and planted a kiss to the head. He took the entire tip into his mouth and swirled his tongue around. Soobin’s hands found Yeonjun’s hair, pulling at it and scratching at his scalp. More was taken into his mouth when Yeonjun tasted Soobin’s sweet precum at the back of his tongue. He moaned in response - sending vibrations throughout Soobin’s body.

Yeonjun had taken the lead considering he was much more confident than Soobin when it came to sex, but him never being with a man before kind of made him the most inexperienced in the room. Soobin tapped him on his head “Yeonjun…” Yeonjun looked up and let his cock out of his mouth with a loud popping sound. His lips were swollen and formed a pout. “Let me fuck you, sweetheart..”

Yeonjun swallowed hard and couldn’t do anything but nod. Soobin sat up and lifted his shirt off his body- before removing Yeonjun’s. They stood up and each removed their pants and briefs. They stood there looking up and down at each others bodies. Yeonjun looked at soobins size and thought there was no way he could take it.

“Let me do this - I don’t think I can handle it” Soobin silenced him with a kiss. He kept their foreheads together. “Let me take care of you, Yeonjun..” one more kiss and Yeonjun melted. He never considered letting someone else take the lead, but he was a mess under Soobins touch. “Get on your back”

Soobin made his way down to Yeonjun’s length and licked it from bottom to top. It was Yeonjun’s turn to let his hands find soobins soft strands and lose his hands in them. Soobin took one of his fingers into his mouth and wet it, before pressing it to Yeonjun’s entrance. “Is this okay?” Yeonjun nodded “just go slow”

And slow he went- slowly and gently sinking his finger into Yeonjun’s tight hole. He thought about what it might feel like to be buried inside there to the hilt - and another rush of heat found its way to soobins cock. He eventually added a second finger, which sent Yeonjun reeling. He began to whimper as he became more and more submissive to soobins touch. Soobin sat up.

“Are you ready for me?” Soobin pumped his length in his hands. “I don’t know” Yeonjun choked out. Scared of the possible pain to come. Soobin got back down in between Yeonjun’s legs and stood his cock up straight. He dove his tongue into Yeonjuns sweet spot, using his tongue and lips and moisten it, and suck.

When he pulled back he saw Yeonjuns hole blooming and contracting, practically inviting him in. “God, im ready” Yeonjun said. Soobin came back up and feverishly kissed Yeonjun again. He lined his cock up to Yeonjuns entrance “let me know if you need me to stop.” He slowly inched himself in and Yeonjun sucked his entire length in. His body’s natural response to being needy, hungry.

Soobin bottomed out and began pumping slow. He leaned down and pressed open mouth kisses to Yeonjun’s neck, chest, shoulders. Yeonjun wrapped his arms around soobins neck and cried out when Soobin hit his prostate. Soobin reached down and grabbed Yeonjun’s length, pumping it.

The sound Soobin let out when Yeonjun tightened was pathetic. A small cry as he continued to try and push through. He couldn’t cum yet, not until Yeonjun was taken care of. “You feel so fucking good, baby” poured from soobins lips. He was reveling in the moment.

Yeonjun melted away at the pet name, feeling his body loosen up and become even more submissive to Soobin’s cock and hands. Soobin kept up a good pace, thrusting and pumping. “Cum for me” he demanded and Yeonjun did, hard. He let out a long whine followed by sharp pants, as his cum decorated his stomach beautifully.

Soobin didn’t let up, his thrusts become sloppier as he was reaching his end. Yeonjun began to feel a slight sting, and knew he needed to push his partner over the edge. Yeonjun dipped two of his fingers into the mess he made on himself and coated his fingers. He brought them up to his mouth and parted his lips. He dove his fingers into his mouth, making eye contact, and sucked on them until all the juices were down his throat.

Soobin was done for. Eyes squinted shut and teeth clenched together. He bottomed out one last time before pulling out. Yeonjun quickly reached down and began pumping his length for him. Soobin put his hands down to Yeonjun’s waist and kept them there as he met Yeonjun’s palm with thrusts and finally came undone.

Soobin lied down on top and let their juices get sticky and start to dry in between them. Soobin put his head into the crook of Yeonjun’s neck and hummed “that was amazing…” Yeonjun hummed back “you know what would make him really jealous ?” Soobin let out a chuckle and sat up. “Are you seriously thinking about that prick right now ?”

Yeonjun followed him up and met him face to face. He reached out and caressed soobins soft cheek with his shaking hand. “Be my boyfriend”

#Choi Yeonjun #Choi Soobin #txt hard hours #txt smut #Yeonjun #Soobin #gay smut #moa wet #yeonbin smut #yeonbin

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amageish · 3 months

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So, James Somerton's brought his Wiccan and Hulkling video back online and I feel a need to just yell into the void for a moment about it.

In that video, Somerton says a lot of really dumb things and exaggerations to make the Young Avengers MLM power couple of Wiccan/Hulkling and the gay X-Men Iceman seem more important to comic history then they are. They are incredibly important, of course - Iceman especially is, to my knowledge, the only Lee/Kirby character to be textually out - but their writers were not fighting tooth and nail as Somerton claims they were - and they certainly weren't acting on spite against a homophobic Marvel who would never let queers into their flagship franchise. They were stories, pitched and approved like any other...

Hell, Bendis had already written a queer woman in the form of Ultimate Spider-Woman a fair amount of time before Iceman came out... Somerton's commentary makes no sense - it's well-delivered and no shade to anyone who was fooled by it, but (like a lot of comic book discourse online TBH) it doesn't stand up to scrutiny.

That said, I think it's important to remember that Marvel Corporate does still need to approve queer coming-outs. There are actual times where characters were intended to have come out as queer, but ended up as subtext in the final draft or had their arcs abandoned entirely. Hell, in the Marvel Pride special last year, Marvel writer Tini Howard alluded to the challenges that can come from writing queer stories while not knowing if they can be officially queer - mentioning how she's been "writing Rachel and Betsy falling in love before [she] knew [she] could."

So like. If you see something queer happening in a Marvel comic and it remains confined to subtext, then please do not immediately jump to "Well, Somerton lied about corporate resistance to Wiccan/Hulkling, so therefore this writer totally had a choice to do a queer story and just chose not to"... Not everyone has the sway of Bendis! Not every queer coming-out is approved. They often take time.

Queercoding is also, for better and for worse, often the route to queer canon in a collaborative medium like comics. There's a lot of queercoding and queer implications from the Jim Shooter era (where queer stuff was actually firmly prohibited at Marvel) that are only now becoming canon. Northstar, Marvel's first openly-gay superhero, was coded for years before it was hard canon. Chris Claremont, one of the main architects of the X-Men as we know them today, wrote plenty of stuff that was subtextually gay that Marvel is still playing catch-up with to this day - ex/ Mystique and Destiny only became Nightcrawler's biological parents, as was his original vision, last year and we still haven't had Kate Pryde do anything more textually Sapphic then kiss a tattoo artist one time...

Being frustrated is cool - I am also often frustrated with Disney and Marvel, as my blog can attest - but please do direct your frustration at the corporation and don't jump to being mean to authors/artists... as I'm pretty sure they're often just as disappointed as we are!

#wiccan & hulkling #iceman #marvel pride #britskani

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enbesbians · 6 months

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GET TO KNOW ME

it's pretty long, i apologize...

this is a repost…

hi there. ive noticed some writers do this and i thought to do my own i have nothing better to do so let me introduce myself, fern the green loving idiot.

also let me plug my masterlist for you.

21 • nonbinary (they/them) • lesbian • black

my name is fern. i live in the sunny side of california, born in the east and traveled to the west. my sign is a taurus, my big three being taurus, scorpio and libra— if that really matters. i stand around 5'9" and i would consider myself masc but more of an androgynous descent. i was always obsessed with video games even though i hadn't owned anything other than an nintendo. id go over friend's house and play on their brother's or dad's consoles for hours on end. once games like 'the walking dead' and ‘the last of us (part 1)' released. my life changed. i was obsessed with its story and girls who had strong roles in any side of media. being introduced to ellie was one of the times i realized— especially with the dlc coming out— that i had to come to terms with my sexuality i had already been struggling with.

ive always loved women.

from the moment i was alive, the vision of breast or the plushness of their soft lips— the curvature of their bodies lining down, molding them into the goddesses that they are. i loved them. being in preschool, sharing my first kiss with a girl and being told that it was wrong, it gave me a rush. being exposed to porn at such a young age, eyes gluing onto the women with their bouncing breasts and loud voices, it awakened me with this need to touch and pursue them as if i was a man. i had an odd relationship with god, religion and the household teachings of what one should be. a child rummaging into an adult, a person born as a girl. in society, having a man with money, a big cock, a good job and a family with values that mirrored your own, was what made one respected. it was given that you (as a women) needed to live that fantasy. i don't want that. my mind was tainted by the devil in the eyes of who calls themselves holy. i adore women more than life, what it has to offer and the meaning of heaven. to grasp and hold onto womanhood of another, groping them as they tell me to not stop, whispering their satisfaction with trembling thighs, a hallowing abdomen and a wet cunt. it excites me. it felt like my own fairytale. to fuck a woman like a man. to betray the teaches of what makes a person 'good' the scent of sex roaming my mind, controlling my hand as i fuck myself to sounds of begging women who have the urge to release. the words shutter into a blissful ramble, their body being taken over. the biggest orgasm would form and an even bigger feeling of regret would wash over me. praying to god that i was one who followed the laws of religion. i shall not sin. i shall not let the devil corrupt my mind in the form of a woman- but fuck were they so tempting. battling through it all. the steps it took to finally reach out and press my thumb at the bottom of their lip- the warmth of their spit as they sucked it so sensually, i knew then that sin was worth it. i was a woman's whore. i was a proclaimed sinner. my tongue was gifted to only please the ones who needed pleasure, letting them know that they could cum more than once and that sinning is not only bad but so fucking good. each time felt like liberation. like i was the king of my own world. my heart racing, synchronized with the speed of her quickening moans. i no longer had the thought of god. i was consumed by the devil. sex and temptation of the succulence of her.

ive always struggled with my gender and the ways of expressing myself. being in a household were it wasn't easy to talk about things like mental health and serious topics like death, and even tamer things like sexuality, i ran through this struggle alone. at age 12 i gave up my faith in god and accepted the fact that i was queer and at 14 i came out myself as nonbinary and that was the time i started to feel like myself. i use the pronouns they/them and haven't changed since.

i love things like literature, i own a good chunk of them and have a mini library in my bedroom. i like to escape in the pages and imagine the world described. taking pictures of gloomy weather, rainfall and little creatures like stray cats or butterflies is a hobby i so gladly partake in. i also am a big metalhead (and all things rock and alternative). i love all forms of it- even though i dabble in almost every genre. ever since i was seven, finding a station on the radio, it opened a world of rock that i hold so closely. i even play the bass. i was introduced to fan fiction early on, starting off with straight fics that turned into celebrity × male reader (as i envisioned myself as a man thinking that being queer was a sin) until i stumbled upon sapphic fiction. ever since then i was wrapped in it and i hadn't even let go. it's been over a decade and now look, im writing my own.

anyway, that was long... and i hope it was informative. if you ever want to send me a message or ask a question, im always inviting. thank you for engaging.

#fern talks🍃#lesbian #sapphic #wlw #tlou #the last of us

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cock-holliday · 9 months

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Yknow when I was in high school I, along with the only out lesbian and only out gay man in our year, helped form our school’s first GSA. I thought I was cishet at the time and just an ally, and then knew I was bi and was in a “gay relationship” with someone who did not go to school with us, so I was closeted to anyone besides my friends. All of the rest of the membership was “straight” as far as we knew.

Our advisor was also straight but enthusiastic. She meant well but she would pick out people she thought might join the group and thought to pull them from class to ask and we had to explain why that was a terrible idea. We all got shit for being in the club. The out gay kids got it so much worse.

Then on the flip side, a good friend of mine seemed very gay. I was out to my circle and was selfishly proud of my gaydar for being able to pick up that he was queer. We three tried to nudge him to come out. It was like we had found him out and of course we wouldn’t judge, so we prodded and poked and “your secret is safe with us.” It was hypocritical of me to try to get the answer I was looking for privately, while also being closeted publicly. He didn’t owe me anything and yet being In with the queers made me feel like I should get him to confirm he was One Of Us.

Then suddenly he stopped replying jokingly with our prods and grew very uncomfortable and quiet instead. We backed off with the change, but really shouldn’t have been so forward to begin with.

He was one of the first people I came out to as trans years later, and he confided in me that he WAS queer, but a friend he disclosed to outed him to his parents and it forced him so deeply back into the closet. My trio would never have outed him to his family, but we were hardly any better with pressuring him. Hints he was welcome to share was one thing, badgering him was another. Then someone wore him down and betrayed his trust, making it impossible for him to come out before moving away for college.

We wanted more community in our tiny town, we wanted him to be part of that secret inner circle, and we all knew how miserable it was to be closeted. We had good intentions and yet still had no right to try to force someone to adhere to our timeline. And because he trusted someone to share his identity before he was ready, he ended up in a much worse place than if he just continued at his own pace!

I graduated high school 10 years ago. This isn’t ancient history.

My county never instilled protections for LGBT folks and friends of mine got told to their face they got fired for being gay. Matthew Shepard was killed in a hate crime in the early 2000s and for my entire growing up his name was wielded like a threat. People were afraid to “end up like matt shepard.”

Friends of mine still had to elope to another state to marry when we were adults because marriage equality wasn’t a thing in our state. Marriage equality nationally has only been a thing since 2015!

The risks and danger are not some bygone era now since 2015–it is real and tangible and still an issue! And that’s “just” being a gay man. Outing people can be life-ruining. It can be deadly. “Gay-bashing” is still a thing! We have no right to force someone to come out, not publicly, and still not privately!

It is not our choice no matter how progressively you spin it!

#LJsm

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amrass · 5 months

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Fanfiction updates and excerpts 09.01.24

I am still sort of burned out, so taking it slow, but wanted to update any readers on my projects. I have settled on four main works, all for RDR2, two small crack fics and two smut fics (Arthur/Micah/Dutch, and Colm/Micah).

Info and excerpts under the cut!

Love Letters. Crack. Unexpected twoshot about the gang drawing dicks on the face of a certain sleeping rat. Part one is up!

"Oh," Grimshaw said, frowning at Micah's face, dirtied with something other than dirt. "Well. It's not my job to wash men who are that level of unwashed. But ..." In a swift, elegant movement, she pulled a fountain pen out from her hairdo. She wielded her pen like a knife, and the onlookers blinked at the added details to Micah's face, and an awed "Ahh" went through them, together with polite clapping. "Someone forgot the balls on that one," Grimshaw said.

Moral Tinnitus. Crack. Half finished oneshot where Arthur can hear the honor bell. This is even sillier than Love Letters, often breaking the fourth wall, with weird physics.

Arthur stood stock still when Dutch started rummaging around in his beard. After some shuffling about, he grasped two section of voluminous hair as if pulling apart theater curtains. Deep inside the beard was a familiar form, the sheer compactness of his squatting making Micah's earlier yoga positions seem like child's play.

"Trelawny! You rascal, what are you doing inside Arthur's beard?"

"I'm hiding from the law, old friend."

Scotch, Cream and Rum. Smut threeshot, Arthur/Micah/Dutch. My first attempt at PWP, and it will be about 10 - 15k words. First part is done, but I want to finish the second to estimate the action curve lol. So far it is like 4000 words of a competitive blowjob ...

Micah had to breathe at some point, taking a break to swallow back spit. But it wasn't a true break, because he left a trail of kisses around the head of Dutch's cock, pulling back the foreskin and panting against the sensitive skin beneath, which Arthur would've never thought to do.

"You're truly ... remarkable at this, aren't you?" Dutch said.

"You're the remarkable one, Dutch."

Arthur thought he might puke.

Micah must've sensed it somehow, because the reverence in his eyes deadened as they slid to the side. "Your turn, tough guy," he said, holding Dutch's cock like they were boys sharing a stolen cigar behind a garden shed.

Salt. Previously titled Perfect Night. Colm/Micah pre-canon sugar daddy AU, multichapter kinkfest? Part 1 is done, but this is still changing a lot, and after 200k words on writing Micah as a secondary character, he is letting me write from his perspective!!! Their villainous chemistry is off the charts. Warning: DARK CONTENT

He didn't get far before pain engulfed him, so intense it took a moment to realize it came from Colm squeezing his balls. Pride leaked through his mouth in a high, undignified sound, until they became numb. It was worse when Colm loosened the hold. Blood flooded back and Micah almost went to his knees, but Colm steadied him, one hand finding his erection through the fabric. Micah felt distant to his own arousal, closer to the pain.

"Knew it," Colm said. Casual, he undid Micah’s jeans, pulling them down just enough to expose him. The glove was around him was softer than a callused hand. "No underwear, kitten? That's gotta chafe. You’re such a pain slut."

"Queer piece of shit geezer."

"Sure. But you can call me sir, if you wanna."

^^ bonus crack variation of this dynamic

Colm: I'll steal all your secrets, I’ll make you love me, I’ll wrangle your true submission out of you

Micah: ok boomer

… Thanks for reading!

#amras writes #i’m daring to post this in the ship tags but not the main ones lol #morbell #vandermorgan #vanderbell #idk if colm/micah has a ship name #drisbell #is my contribution

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nadinenc · 8 months

Text

I'm a queer Christian.

Here comes a rant!

(This is a queer-safe space; hate comments will be deleted)

So I've been in a rollercoaster lately. I've always been comfortable with being bi, even though I've been raised Christian. I was under the assumption that my environment was ok with it too; why wouldn't they be? I've never heard something bad and I haven't hidden me being bi. My family supports me and never thought of it as bad, though nobody can vouch FOR the LGBTQIA+ community on behalf of the bible.

And I've been struggling with being associated with Christianity, for obvious reasons. Most queer people get cautious when they hear someone is Christian, and we can't blame them. Christianity has a big, I might even say the biggest, group which includes people hating on queer people, thinking they shouldn't exist and actively professing their hate. I can't be part of that. I don't want to say I'm Christian and immediately saying "BUT I don't hate queer people! I'm one myself!" which I felt the need for and which I did. I don't want to believe in the God for me and being included in a group where a big part has values against me. But I still want to believe in God.

Cause the Bible is a tricky thing, you have to read it with care, from my point of view. It has been translated and it has metaphors and it's very context base. So I've learned to read the seemingly anti-homosexuality parts as a text against cheating, in any form. How can a book about love be against people healthily loving each other?

So. Under the assumption everyone was good with me being bi. Then, I was talking to my friend of 9 years about being associated with Christianity, when she casually dropped the bomb of not supporting it. She knew I was bi. I did not know she didn't support it. That hurt. I genuinely was scared for my safety for a split second. (I was still physically safe). We talked about it a lot then, and shared our point of views. I was shocked not everyone in my direct environment who I really care about was against such a big part of me. I told her it was a surprise. She said she can love me and still not support me seeking out that part of me. Compared it to drinking alcohol excessively. I really looked up to how steadfast she is in her faith, but I started to question everything. Does my God love me but simply not support that part of me? I thought about it a lot, came to the conclusion I couldn't be part of a religion that doesn't support love, that doesn't support these people, even when I wouldn't be one of them, even when I really want to put God first. I got emotional in church two days later and sought out the pastor, who then also told me it stood in the Bible clearly that it's not okay. I made a big "eh..." gesture, thinking about reading stuff in context. I didn't agree. I think the Bible can still stand for love, and the kind of inclusive love I want to support.

Then! My friend of two years who I also look up to in faith, and who is kind of feministic and agrees on a lot of point of views with me, told me the same three hours ago. "I can love a person and still not support that part." What do you even do in a friendship like that? When they are against such a big part of you, can the friendship exist? It'll always be in the back of my mind now, whenever I meet with either of them.

Can anyone (Christian or not, queer or not, but keep it queer-friendly!) please share their point of view on any of this? I am so lost here.

Waiting on the day I can find people who can vouch for the queer community on behalf of the bible with me. The only argument I have heard is passive or against. In favour I've had to figure out myself. I still have to figure it out. But I want to get there.

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softspaceboibrian · 2 years

Text

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy || Chapter 5 || Eddie Munson

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Y/N Henderson || I used she/her pronouns, but there is no actual physical description, so the pronouns can be switched with whatever anyone wants or prefers!

Summary: Eddie goes to Y/N for comfort, but finds out that she needs comfort herself too.

Warnings: the Chrissy-accident, nightmare, mean talk; a lot of comfort and domesticity; fluff and feelings finally being considered!! (which isn't really a warning, just a hurray!). oh, yes, lousy writing as always.

WC: 5719

A/N: this chapter was challenging to write. I have a plan for the following few chapters, also. hopefully, you will like them like the first ones. also, thank you for your support, especially those that have messaged me and left a comment! I really, really appreciate it <;3

Taglist: @263adder @criminalyetminimal @christina-gg22 @beautyandthenovels @ssqra @yournan69 @lovesleepybearwriter @phantomxoxo @mushywutty @authorlovers @sxwyxr @jessyballet @carebearsofie @zanmorgan @quartz-queer [if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!!]

“Eddie?” She looked at the man lying on her floor, taking a few steps towards him, but still gripping onto the heavy book in her hand, ready to throw it if it turned out to be someone else. However, when the man eventually pulled himself up, he looked shocked, freak out. At that point Y/N threw the book unto her bed and ran to him, not sure what to say or do. “Eddie, why are you here? Is everything okay?” Eddie didn’t answer. He wouldn’t even look at her, and not like when he was embarrassed of his blushing cheeks or he was trying to hide a smirk. He was shaking. “Hey, Eddie. It’s okay. Whatever it was, it's gone. You’re here with me now, okay?” This time she didn’t try and wait for any form of response, she just took him by the hand and guided him to her bed, making room for him to sit there. “Can I bring you anything? Water? A cup of tea? Some warm milk, maybe?” She started making her way towards the door, but she was immediately stopped by Eddie grabbing her arm.

“Please, don’t leave me alone.” Eddie’s voice was shaking just as much as his body was, and Y/N’s heart broke. She had no idea what could have happened and she wasn’t sure forcing him to talk about it would be a good idea. So, she turned back around and walked in front of him. In all of those years of observing him from afar, she had never, ever imagined she would have ended up seeing him this shaken.

She stood there, in front of him, almost between his legs. She wanted to look at his face, to make sure he wasn’t hurt, but he kept hiding it from her. “I’m here, okay? I won’t leave. I promise.” She whispered, as she moved her hand to his hair, brushing them gently, trying to calm him down. Next thing she knew, Eddie’s arms snaked around her waists, pulling her closer to him and burying his face against her stomach. Y/N’s heart sank at the sight of the man shaking uncontrollably right there in front of her, and there wasn’t much she could do, so she just kept stroking his hair and his back, humming a random lullaby that came to her mind, in the hope it could help him calm down. However, she was completely shocked to feel wetness touch her skin through her t-shirt. At first, she was scared it might be blood, since he still hadn’t given her the chance to make sure he was okay, but soon she realised he was crying. “That’s it, love, you’re safe now.” She whispered and moved around in his embrace so that she could take a seat next to him, but he protested, too worried she was going to leave. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, okay? Let me take a seat here, next to you.” She had never been this calm in her entire life. The previous summer, when all that shit with the Russians and the Mind Flayer went down, adrenaline had kicked in and she had acted like she was the daughter of Sherlock Holmes, G.I. Joe and MacGyver all together. But now, seeing Eddie like that, some sort of motherly impulse had taken control of her, and all she wanted to do was to make sure he was okay. Yes, she also wanted to know what had happened, so that she could kill whoever had done that to him. But first, Eddie. “How about you lie down and you put your head here, on my lap?” She put her hands on Eddie’s shoulders and guided him, until his head was on her legs. “That’s it. Good.” She whispered, moving hair out of his face, more as a way to make sure he wasn’t hurt. “Take deep breaths. You’re safe.” She could feel his hand gripping onto her leg, but she didn’t mind, he wasn’t hurting her. “Good. Very good.” She kept talking to him, to let him know she was still there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

They stayed there, in that position for probably 10 minutes, Eddie’s head lying in her lap, him holding onto her legs, as she ever so gently caressed his cheek. Her hands were so soft, her fingers always a bit cold, even with the warm weather that spring had brought that year. But he didn’t mind the coolness as long as it was her hands. They stayed in silence, and he tried to match his breath to hers as much as possible. Eventually Eddie stopped shaking. The images were still there, the sounds so vivid, so alive in his head. But her presence grounded him enough to be able to stop whimpering whenever a sound came from outside her window.

At one point, her voice broke the silence, as soft and gentle as ever. “If you want to talk about it, just know that I’m here. When you’re ready.”

“You won’t believe me” He whispered. And he could already feel tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Not again, please.

“Try me.” Her reply was quick, which confused Eddie.

He stayed there with his head on her legs for a few more moment, but then decided to sit up. He immediately moved closer to her, leaving no room between their bodies, the urge to feel her body next to his was too strong. She was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. Eddie took her hand in his, intertwining his fingers with hers, his thumb stroking the soft skin of the back of her hand. He took a deep breath. He wanted to tell her. He needed to tell her, or he would go insane. “Her body was just, like, lifted into the air.” He spoke quietly, words coming out of his mouth almost like a whisper. “And, uh… and she just, like, hung there. In the air.” His eyes filled with tears just at the thought of what had happened. “And her bones… uh, she…” He whimpered. “Her bones started to snap. And her eyes. It… it was like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “I… I didn’t know what to do, so I… I ran away. I left her there.” He scoffed. “You think I’m crazy, right?”

Y/N shook her head, raising a hand to wipe away the tear from his face. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N! I know how this sounds!” He raised his voice. Why was she being this calm? Why wasn’t she disturbed or freaked out by this?

“I’m not bullshitting you, Eddie. I believe you.” She whispered. Her hand was still on his cheek, stroking it gently in a hope to calm him down. “And I know a few other people that would also believe you, starting with my brother.”

“Don’t bring your brother into this.” He almost begged. It might have been hard to believe, but he actually cared for Dustin Henderson. He cared about all the members of the Hellfire Club, they were his lost sheepies, as he would jokingly call them. But with him, with her brother, something had clicked, something different that he couldn’t really explain. And that was why he didn’t want to bring him into this. He was already risking way too much by telling her. But he needed her. He needed her like hell.

“Oh, honey, trust me: if you knew what my brother has been though in the last few years, you would want him to be here.” She said, offering him a kind smile. “As crazy as it may sound, Dustin’s my hero, and him and his friends have already saved this town three times at this point, but no one really knows that.” Eddie was extremely confused, and Y/N could see that. “Listen, what I’m about to tell you may be… difficult… to take in, okay? But you know how people say that Hawkins is… cursed? Well, they’re not… way off.” The confused expression didn’t leave the man’s face. “But I can’t explain it to you myself. You have to trust me, we need Dustin. He… he could explain everything to you. And I mean everything. He might even help you make sense of what you just went through. I know it’s sounds crazy but-”

“I trust you.” Eddie interrupted her, squeezing her hand and trying to move even closer to her. “But not right now, please. Right now, I just need to be with you. Only you.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, a wordless way of asking for a hug.

She smiled, placing a quick kiss on his head, before wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pulling him in. “Then we’ll ask him tomorrow, okay?”

“Thank you.” He whispered into her hair, pulling himself as close as possible to her for a few moments, before letting go.

“Hey, how about we make ourselves comfortable, uh?” She said, shifting around the bed, sitting up with her back against the headboard. Eddie didn’t need much convincing, and immediately followed her, setting himself right next to her. He knew he had to give her space at some point, but at the same time he had to feel her presence, he had to have some sort of contact with her. Both their legs were stretched out over the covers, their shoulders pressed one’s against the other’s. “So,” She spoke after a few moments of silence. She didn’t really want to force him to talk about what he had just witnessed, but she was curious about one thing. “I don’t want to sound jealous or anything, but… could I ask you who this girl was?” She turned to look at him. “You obviously don’t own me anything, we barely went on a date. So, if you don’t want to tell me, it’s not-”

He interrupted her by grabbing her hand. “Chrissy Cunningham.” She knew she must have made a weird expression or something because of the face the man pulled in reaction. “She had approached me during lunch time to buy some… you know…”

“You can say it, it’s fine with me.” She reassured him.

“She wanted to buy weed.” He continued, starting to absentmindedly play with her fingers. “At least that’s what I thought she wanted. But then she asked me for something… stronger, and I don’t bring that kind of stuff to school, so I had to sell it to her tonight, after the game.” She nodded, and he wanted to die. Talking about his business in front of her made him feel ashamed. How could she want anything to do with someone like him? With a drug dealer? What did she see in him? “That’s why she came round to my place. I wasn’t cheating on you, I swear.”

“Eddie, we’re not together. You can do whatever you want.” She said, and it hurt her to say that. She obviously didn’t want him to go around and flirt with other people, she wanted him to spend time with her, to flirt with her, to kiss her. But that first part was true, they weren’t together.

Little did she know that Eddie was going through a very similar thought process. Yeah, well, I know we’re not together yet, but I don’t want to do whatever I want. Or, actually, I do want to do it, but that’s the thing. You are what I want. Not some other girl. He sighed. “Right…” He whispered, obviously disappointed.

After that, silence fell on the room. The only sounds were those coming from outside, the wind rustling the leaves, birds singing. Y/N shifted slightly so to be able to lay her head on his shoulder. But then Eddie moved too, opening his arms, as a way of inviting her to lay her head on his chest. She quickly raised a corner of her mouth in a half smile, before setting there. As she laid her head on his chest, she could hear his heart beating. And it was beating like crazy. He must still be in shock, she thought to herself, as she wrapped her arms around his torso. She had imagined a moment like that hundreds of times, especially in the last few days, but she never thought it would have come after Eddie had witnessed a girl being possessed and killed by some invisible forces in mid-air. She had hoped it would have happened during a date, maybe a night-in at his place, watching a movie. He would be sitting at the end of the couch, leaning slightly against the arm rest. It would be late and she would start to feel sleepy. And he would notice, so he would call her name and gesture her to move closer, to settle against his chest. Then they would go on watching the movie like that, her arms around his waists, him playing with her hair, until she fell asleep. And maybe she would even stay over for the night. But that wasn’t a date. He was there because he needed comfort and support. And that was what she wanted to do: help him.

Her hands had found their way under his jacket, and were now lying on his side. She started to absentmindedly draw circles on his t-shirt, as she took in his now familiar scent. She forced herself to keep her eyes open, afraid she would otherwise fall asleep, but when eventually Eddie moved his hands to her hair, brushing them and playing with them, just like she had imagined, a shy smile appeared on her lips, and only then she allowed herself to close her eyes, enjoying the moment.

However, at one point, the air seemed to change, to get colder. At first, she blamed the window which was still open from before. But then, Eddie stood up from where he was sitting, leaving her lying there, confused. She turned to look at him, trying to understand if he needed anything or if he wasn’t feeling alright. Maybe the images from before are still disturbing him. He had is back to her, so she couldn’t see what he was doing. “Eddie?” She called his name, getting up from the bed. She took a few steps, until she was close enough to put a hand on his arm. “Is everything okay?” She asked.

“You don’t understand it, do you?” He snapped around, grabbing her by the wrist. She looked at him confused, scared even. “Y/N, I don’t like you. I’m only here because I need you to graduate this year. You’re a means to an end to me, can’t you see it?”

She tried to free herself from his grip, wriggling around with her arm. “Eddie, where is this coming from?”

He tightened his grip on her. “You really think anyone would want to be with you for who you are? Really? You’re pathetic.” His eyes grew darker, his voice louder. “You think you’re so smart and quirky because of all the books you read, don’t you? Well, you’re wrong. You’re just pathetic.”

“Eddie, I… I’m sorry…” Tears started filling up her eyes. “I thought… I thought we were becoming friends…”

He finally let go of her. “Friends? You really thought anyone would want to be your friend? You thought I would want to be your friend?” He laughed a dry, almost evil laugh. “No, wait.” He started walking towards her. “Don’t tell me you thought I was getting feelings for you.” She took a step back, and another, until her calves were now pressed against the frame of the bed, and tears started falling. “No one wants to be with you, Y/N. Not even your friends.”

“Eddie, please…” Her voice cracked. What had happened? Everything seemed so peaceful only moments ago, and now… what was happening?

“Those people you call friends… they pity you.” He kept getting closer to her, and somehow his figure seemed to get bigger and bigger with every step he took. “Oh, and you should hear the things your brother says about you behind your back!” He laughed again. She looked at him and she couldn’t recognise him: it was him, or rather, it was his body, but something in his eyes was different.

“Eddie, stop, please…” She cried.

“Eddie, stop, please!” He mocked her. He was now standing only a few inches away from her. Tears fell uncontrollably down her cheeks. That wasn’t him.

Eddie had closed his eyes only for a few seconds when he started hearing sobs coming from the girl. She was still there, lying against his chest. At first, he thought he must have imagined it. He was tired after all. He kept looking at her in silence. The room was dark, but a light came from the street and through the window, shedding just enough light on her face to allow him to see tears rolling down her cheeks. “Y/N” His voice was soft as he tried to call her. But no response. The girl was now wincing, kicking even. “Hey, Y/N, I’m here.” He tried to call her again, a bit louder this time, but still no response. “Y/N, wake up!” This time his voice was clear as he shook her physically.

Finally, the girl opened her eyes, but she was so scared, that she immediately started to back away from him. Tears were now falling uncontrollably down her face, and she got up from the bed, hands in front of her as if she was trying to defend herself. She murmured something, but he couldn’t really make out the words.

“Y/N, it was just a bad dream.” He said, getting off the bed and trying to get close to her, but she wouldn’t let him. She obviously thought she was still in dreaming.

“Please, stop.” She cried, tripping over something and falling to the floor. “Please…” She looked away, hiding her face.

Eddie had not clue what to do, how to wake her up. A part of him told him he should’ve gone and called Dustin, because he would have known how to actually wake her up. But no one could know he was there, especially not Dustin, or he would start asking millions of questions and they would never get out of that. So, he kneeled, trying to get as close as possible to her. He opened his hand, putting them up in the air as a sign of surrender, hoping that it would help her understand he didn’t want to hurt her or anything. “I promise, Eddie, I’ll leave you alone from now on.” She cried. And at those words, his heart dropped. He was in her nightmare.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone, princess.” He said, still kneeling in front of her, but keeping a safe distance, not wanting to freak her out even more.

Princess. As a trigger, the word brought her back to reality. It was only then that she realised she was on the floor, crouched in a corner, with her back pressed against the wall behind her. Eddie was on the floor just like her, kneeling a few inches away from her. She looked around her room, trying to look for other signs that she was awake, that she was no longer dreaming. A bird chirped outside her bedroom window. It must have been a good sign, right?

“Hey, princess. It’s okay, you’re awake.” Eddie’s voice was now back to normal, warm, reassuring. She sighed deeply before launching herself into his arms. “There, there.” He whispered, closing his arms around her small, shaking figure, pressing a kiss on top of her head. “You’re safe, love.” He whispered the words she had said to him when he had burst into her bedroom, those words that made him feel at home.

“You said mean things to me.” She cried into his chest, holding tightly onto his t-shirt.

He sighed, sitting properly on the floor and pulling her into his lap. “It was just a bad dream, love. I promise. The Eddie you saw wasn’t me, and whatever he said, it’s not true.”

“It felt so real.” She couldn’t stop sobbing. He could feel her struggling for air at that point, but even if he tried to give her some space to breathe, she still kept her face buried in his chest.

“I know, princess.” He rocked her gently, placing now and again soft kisses on top of her head. “But it was just a nightmare. Everything’s okay now. I’m here. The real me.” His voice slowly calmed her down. “I want to be here with you.” He reassured her.

Eddie didn’t know how long the stayed on the floor for. He set his back against the side of the bed, and held the girl in his lap with so much care, as if she were a child. His fingers moved carefully between her hair, brushing them, braiding them, as he kept rocking her ever so gently. With his mouth pressed on the crown of her head, he hummed Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, being it the only Queen song that came to his mind. At first, he wasn’t sure that it could help her, but when he stopped after a couple of times of humming the chorus, he felt her grip on his shirt tighten and a soft voice whisper against his own chest “Don’t stop, please.”. And so, he kept on humming. They stayed there on the floor, in that position, until Y/N was calm enough to move back to her bed. But even then, she still kept her arms around Eddie, his t-shirt in her hands, not sure she really wanted to let go of him. She laid once again her head on his chest, an ear pressed on the left side, his heartbeat a lullaby to calm her nerves and keep her grounded.

It was crazy to think how that night had gone. That evening at Hellfire Club had possibly been one of the coolest Hellfire Club’s meetings they had ever had: everyone had loved that last mission; even Sinclair’s little sister, who had swept in last minute and, in an unforeseeable turn of events, had saved the squad from certain doom. Everyone complimented him on the great campaign he had created, which made him happy. But then when he went home the thing with Chrissy happened. He had run, he had abandoned her there. He could have called the police. He should have called the police. Instead, he had run to her. He had literally thrown himself through her window just to be able to hug her. And when he had started to finally relax, her nightmare happened. Could he have caused her the nightmare by telling her what had happened? Did she have a nightmare because she was already feeling guilty for keeping his secret? Was she in danger now because of his impulsive choice? Also, apparently, he was in her nightmare. What did she dream about? What did he do in her nightmare? Did he hurt her? Why did she say she would leave him alone? He didn’t want to be left alone, especially not now, especially not by her.

With his arms still around her and those thoughts running through his head, Eddie tried not to fall asleep. He wanted to stay awake, alert for the rest of the night, he wanted to be there, ready to help her in case she might have another nightmare. However, when Y/N started to gently trace abstract figures on his side, it was it for him. His eyelids became heavy, he could barely keep his eyes open, and not even twenty seconds later he was sleeping.

When he opened his eyes again, it was morning. He was lying on his side, facing the window. Sunshine came in the room, softly washing over the dark-wood furniture. He blinked a couple of times, his eyes taking time to adjust to the new, warm light of the morning. He stretched his legs and arms, realising only then that he had slept with his jacket on, which he didn’t mind, since they had forgot to close the window. He looked around the room, smiling when he recognised the posters on the walls. He rolled over; a smile already present on his lips at the thought of her lying beside him. However, the smile quickly faded when he realised that she wasn’t there. “Y/N?” He called her name, sitting up and looking around, thinking she might have been sitting at her desk and maybe he was still too sleepy to have noticed her. But she wasn’t. What the hell? He quickly got off the bed, confused. Where is she? He kept asking himself, still looking around the room as if she would just magically appear out of nowhere, or hoping he could just realise she had been there the entire time, and he simply hadn’t noticed her. But as he slowly woke up, he came to terms with the fact that he was alone in that room. Her deep green Converse were still there, on the floor, where he had noticed them the previous night. Everything seemed to be how he remembered it from the night before. So, where the hell was her? He rubbed his eyes, moving hair away from his face. He wasn’t sure what to do. His gut told him to go look for her outside of the bedroom, but another part of him was terrified at the thought of meeting her mother in the kitchen or something. He took a quick glance at the alarm on her side table. 7:18. It’s pretty early on a Saturday morning, especially on the first day of spring break. She should still be in bed, it’s her right. He thought, maybe she’s in the bathroom. Yes, that seems like a logical explanation to why she isn’t here. That must be it. He took a seat at the end of the bed. His eyes were fixed on the door, as he bounced his leg up and down. He didn’t know for how long he stayed like that, staring at the door handle, waiting for it to move. He turned to look again at the alarm on the side table. 7:31. I need to look for her. What if she went in the bathroom and felt sick? What if she went to the kitchen and something happened? It must have been the anxiety related to the Chrissy-accident talking, but he had to make sure she was okay.

He got off the bed and walked to the door, opening it very quietly. He stuck his head out first, just enough to look both ways and make sure he could walk out. He silently made his way to what he supposed was the bathroom. The door was closed, so he ever so gently knocked on it, whisper-shouting her name, and then staying quiet for a few moments, waiting for an answer. Nothing. He tried once more, but still nothing. He sighed, looking again both ways down the corridor, now paying attention to the other doors. The one he remembered being Mrs Henderson’s room was closed, which he took as a good sign, she must still be asleep. Dustin’s room, on the other hand, from what he had gathered, was on the other side of the house, meaning he couldn’t really make sure whether he was still asleep or not. A teen boy on vacation? He has to be sleeping, he thought to himself. So, quietly, he tiptoed down the corridor, aiming for the kitchen. However, he immediately froze when he heard sounds coming from there. Fuck, fuck, fuck, maybe Mrs Henderson wasn’t still asleep? He stayed there, still like a statue, even holding his breath, trying to understand who it was. Something clinked, like silverware against a dish or something. Then someone hummed. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy. He smiled, allowing himself to breathe again. He took a few steps until he was standing in the kitchen doorway.

The TV in the corner was turned on, the volume was a low as possible so that she could barely make out the words, and it was showing re-runs of Scooby-Doo. Y/N was sitting at the table, as she ate a bowl full of Cocoa Krispies and milk. A glass of dark red orange juice sitting in front of her, right next to a very worn-out copy of The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett, open page-side down to keep track of the last page she must have read. She was sitting with her legs crossed on the chair, her hair in the messiest bun he had ever seen on anyone. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to look at her the previous night, and now he couldn’t help but smile at the already oversized t-shirt that she was wearing, which, on her, looked as if it had belong to giant. She looked so… soft. A part of him wanted to stay there, in silence, lean against the doorpost and just admire her. But he chose against it, not wanting to seem like a creep. So, he simply walked in the room. “Y/N?” He spoke quietly, not wanting to startle her.

The girl turned her head in his direction, and smiled when she realised it was him. “Eddie!” She stood up from where she was sitting and walked to him, wrapping immediately her arms around him. “Sorry I left you alone there, but you were sleeping so soundly.”

He smiled, hugging her back and placing a soft kiss on top of her head. “Don’t worry.” Just imagine waking up like this every morning. Imagine waking up to her every day.

“Do you want some breakfast?” She asked, reluctantly pulling away from him. “We have cereal, I can make you some PB&J, scrambled eggs. Anything you want, just ask.” She said, walking towards the cabinet to take out what she needed.

He chuckled as he took a seat at the table next to where she was previously sitting. “Cereal is fine. It’s what I would have had at my place anyway.” He said, stress coming over him as he thought about the trailer. His uncle would be home any minute now.

“Then, cereal it is!” She took out a bowl and a spoon for him, placing them on the table in front of him. “Did you sleep well?” She asked him as she sat again in her chair, immediately pulling both legs up: she was sitting similarly to how she was when he had first walked in, with her legs almost resembling a pretzel, but now a leg was higher, her heel resting on the edge of the seat, using her knee as an armrest. He had noticed it in class too, that she would always be sitting in some unusual way. But now, seeing her there, in her own habitat, he noticed that she actually sat in the weirdest positions. And how she managed to, he had no idea? He was barely flexible enough to cross his legs once in a while, whereas she looked like some contortionist from the circus. He loved it.

“Actually, yes. I thought I wouldn’t be able to even just close my eyes after what happened last night. But it turns out you have quite a relaxing effect on me.” He smiled, as he poured some cereal in his bowl, before drowning them in milk. He could see her blush in the corner of his eye. “How about you? Did you manage to fall back asleep?”

She shook her head. “Nope. But I didn’t really want to. So, I stayed up all night.” He now had his mouth full of a spoonful of cereal. But he stopped nonetheless to look at her confused. Why didn’t she want to sleep? “But don’t worry, I re-read most of this.” She said proudly, picking up the book from the table, and showing him how few pages left she had to read.

“You could have woken me up, I could have kept you company.” He said, feeling bad for having slept the entire night as she struggled to keep herself awake.

“You looked too peaceful to wake you.” She said, looking at him straight in the eyes. And he was the one blushing. But he didn’t hide it this time. He was done hiding his emotions from her.

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, as they both finished their breakfast, distractedly watching the new Scooby-Doo episode. However, neither of them really could care less about what was on TV. Y/N’s leg, the one that was previously propped up, was now slowly swinging in front of her chair, while Eddie stretched his legs out in front of him, so they were now invading her space. Eddie felt like a child as his heart beat louder whenever their legs made contact under table. He wanted that every day. He wanted to drive her home on school nights, but then wake up next to her on the weekends. And maybe she wanted it too. Eddie could feel his entire body pushing him closer to her, his own lips starting to move, as if he was going to tell her something. But something else interrupted that moment. When he turned around, Dustin was walking into the kitchen, his curly hair all over the place, the signs left by the pillow still on his face.

“Hey sis” He yawned, walking to the fridge. “Hey Eddie” He added, opening the fridge door. Both Eddie and Y/N froze in their seat, looking at each other. What the fuck? Eddie mouthed, hoping the girl would just talk for him or tell him what to do. But when they moved back their gaze to the boy, he was now turning slowly around, like one of those comic scenes in a sitcom. Dustin looked at the man sitting at the table, then his sister, he blinked a few times, and rubbed his eyes, thinking maybe he was still dreaming or he was seeing things. When he opened his eyes once again and met Eddie’s, he knew he was fully awake. “What the fuck? Eddie? Why are you here?”

hope you enjoyed the chapter! please, reblog, like and comment! I love any form of feedback!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #st4 #softspaceboibrian #softspaceboibrian writings #good old fashioned lover boy eddie #joseph quinn #joe quinn

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absolutebl · 2 years

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Hey there! I get most of my bl recs from this blog, and I was reading through your Minato's Laundromat watch along post. I was going to watch it but the age gap really messes me up? In Old Fashion Cupcake they have a large age gap but they're still both adults. I suppose it's because of my own past, but a 17 year old with a 27 year old makes me uncomfortable. Would you be okay with the same age gap if it was irl, or only in fiction? Please take no offence to this question, btw, I'm trying to figure out if I should watch it or not.

Age Gap & BL - Taboo, Morality, Teenagers & Laundromats

Ooo, age gap. Well this might just be another JBL whips ABL into a verbal frenzy situation. You ready?

Age gap is one of those tropes that edges into taboo, so like the stepbrothers trope, you may have internalized trauma or cultural conditioning around it.

You may never be able to watch these kinds of BLs no matter what I say or what Japan does about it. And that’s fine! Please know your own limits.

Some of us have baggage around childhood, and allowing children to be children, and adults interfacing with children, and age of consent, and sexual awakening and maturity.

But it means to talk about the romantic and erotic nature of an age gap romance, we gotta talk about culture for a moment.

When does a child become an adult?

Certain cultures have a more fixed age of consent than others. Japan’s, as I talk about in my Coin watch along post, is more flexible than the USA, for example.

Anthropologically speaking, this is something to examine about yourself. What constitutes “growing up” to you?

Is it a fixed line you cross (like a birthday) - what we would call ascribed status, or is is a thing you earn = achieved status? Is it wisdom or education?

In some places, it’s the moment a biological woman gets her period or after a biological man’s voice breaks.

In others, it’s the moment she puts on a head scarf or lengthens her skirt.

It’s the moment he kills his first big game or weaves feathers into his hair.

In some places, it centers around controlling procreation and the feminine.

In others, it is about protection and the fear of youth being exploited.

In others, it’s about a transition from one role in the group to another new role in society.

Everywhere it is about crossing a threshold.

How big is that threshold, how wide that line? How much time does it occupy in our cultural consciousness? This is what teen’s grapple with. That liminal space between childhood and adulthood. How frustrating to have to exist there. How necessary to form cohesive identity. How do they know, how do we know, when they have crossed through and come out the other side?

Who decides this for you? Who decides this ABOUT you? The government? The legal system? The family unit? Yourself? Your religion? A big fuck-off party?

Why 18? Why 21? Why can 18 not fuck 17 but can fuck 21? Did you feel ready to date, to have sex, when you were 18? Or were you ready before that, after, never? Is sexuality even really an indication of adultness to you?

Would I be okay with the same age gap if it was irl, or only in fiction?

My personal perspective:

I’ve talked about this before but I came into sexual identity and desire very early, but I didn’t really date or have sex until comparatively late, and it took me longer than that to unearth my own kinks and queerness.

My parents were very permissive and I knew how to be safe and so I could have done anything I wanted to, probubly from 14 on, which is one of the reasons I didn’t.

I’ve dated up to 10 years older, and over 10 years younger, but always individuals who were qualified as legal adults by any standards.

I do think there are plenty of people too young for sex, by any definition. Certainly plenty of 18 year olds too young for it.

I am personally squicked out by the idea of engaging in any level of intimacy with much younger lovers at this point in my life. It seems like too much work and boring and also a little gross.

But I also believe in giving children responsibility, discipline, autonomy, freedom, and high functioning tasks. I do not agree with helicopter parenting or infantilization. I had my first job when I was 10. Outside the home. I liked it. I learned a lot. I traveled internationally alone for the first time when I was 8. This skews my perspective on what it means to be mature.

Would I be okay with 17 + 27 IRL?

Probubly not but it would depend on the power dynamic. If class, culture, finances, and/or gender made it clear the older person was calling all the shots while being in the position of power, I would be highly uncomfortable. I might even interfere. (If there’s a sugar daddy relationship going on I would probubly make inquiries as to the nature of the contract, and that the younger sub understood their dynamic properly. In the D/s world I do think Dominants have a responsibility to oversee other Dominants for abuse patterns.)

In fiction, I am thinking of Alexis Hall’s For Real which is an excellent gay romance about a large age, wealth, life, experience, EVERYTHING gap where the Dom is a young college age kid and the sub is an established doctor. It’s brilliant and it tackles many of these things. I highly recommend it.

Fiction allows for a certain amount of suspension of disbelief. Also it allows us to see into intimacy in a way we ordinarily can’t outside of our own lives.

Shin is younger but he is also VERY MUCH the aggressor. He makes all the first moves. They have not kissed, at these ages, and I do not think they will.

I’m going to ask you a question.

How would this age dynamic make you feel if it were say: man 18 & woman 28, and he’s a freshman in college and she’s in a comfortingly genderized service job, say waitress? How about if he is a young CEO and she’s his secretary?

Is part of the discomfort coming from the gayness? (Because in the west there is a long history of cultural association between gay & pedophile which is very insidious and his impacted the queer community quite severely, it may be acting on your subconscious.)

Is part of the discomfort coming from the life state? High School. Is leaving high school actually a conference of maturity, or just a societal excuse we westerners use to sluff off our filial responsibility to our youth?

Is it all about the fixed age? Is there really that a big a jump between 17 and 18 or does it just make us feel better because certain laws say 18 = adult?

It’s worth making yourself uncomfortable with thought experiments around this dynamic to try to understand why you feel this way. After all, you gave me a thought experiment, I’m just returning the favor.

But honestly this is part of Coin’s point. To make you think about what it means to be adult and mature. To make you uncomfortable as a watcher.

Cupcake versus Coin

Okay the interesting thing about comparing Old Fashion Cupcake (AKA Cupcake) to Minato’s Laundromat (AKA Coin) is that they are actually quite similar.

Younger seme by 10 years is the one doing the pursuing.

Older uke behaves in a childish and flirtatious manner as part of his personality.

Both semes are clearly sexually frustrated.

Both have pined for a decade.

Both narratives are from Japan.

But in Cupcake the age gap almost amusing. Especially to some of us. That the characters are even worried about this kind of age gap, at their age? It’s silly. Why?

Well, the age gap is there, but really these two are at the same life stage, so it’s not the driver of the story. Emotional maturity is. Learning how to love and appreciate yourself (and what time has beaten you into) so you can be open to affection and sensation and life. Togawa is defined by his willingness to participate in all the world has to offer - those HAMSTER cheeks, are a way of showing his unconsciousness indulgence in sensation. While Nozue is defined by his careful withdrawal, his unwillingness to participate, to take risks, and his own self-hatred and sadness because he KNOWS, he is mature enough to realize, that he did this to himself.

Neither Minato nor Shin are mature in this regard. Both characters are not self aware. Both characters lack emotional IQ. Shin is incapable of teaching Minato how to open himself back up to affection, because Shin does not have enough life experience to empathize with why Minato ran away and shut down in the first place.

Shin is too young. He thinks he would never run. He thinks love is the answer. He thinks love is enough.

It’s never is.

Minato’s Laundromat is a high school student paired with a grown (if immature) man. Same character dynamics as Cupcake. Same age gap as Cupcake. But this narrative must face its age gap head on. And that’s why it’s making people uncomfortable.

Japan is using to Coin tackle notions of maturity but not just sexual awakening and desire, but how maturity translates to emotional intelligence and ownership of self.

Both characters are mature in certain ways.

Shin is the eldest of a large family, he’s basically raised his siblings, he’s taught himself to cook, he’s driven in his studies, he wants to become a doctor. He knows how to be a boyfriend, or he thinks he does. He knows what he desires. He knows how to ask and he knows how to flirt. Shin knows who he is and what he wants and that is mature, but also he is performing the role of a seme as he thinks it’s supposed to be undertaken. He is acting the role of the boyfriend that he has read about in his comic books, it’s not (yet) natural to him, the way it is to Togawa. But he doens’t realize this because he’s too young.

Minato has two failed relationships behind him and a failed career. He knows what it is to hurt. He knows things don’t work out. He knows wanting a thing is not the same as having it and holding on. He has found his way to a kind of peace, and kind of inertia. Unlike Nozue, he is genuinely happy, he’s not at all lost, but he is hiding, and he is scared. But this he knows about himself. Minato is hiding that he is gay, he is acting in a way to fit back into his home, but at heart he is an open and honest person, naturally kind and gregarious, so he too is acting, performing a role, it’s just he knows it.

Both Cupcake and Coin are about bravery, but in the one case we have a clear model example of how to be brave, an end goal, and it is Togawa. In the other we have conflict over bravery, because it means something different when you are at different life stages.

Shin can be as brave as humanly possible, and he is constantly putting himself out there, constantly asking and begging and pushing Minato to give in to their desires. But while that may be a model of courage, it is not safe for Minato. Minato’s bravery is in resisting. Is in not giving in. And it will eventually be in hurting Shin to drive him away. Even lying to Shin about his feelings.

Shin cannot be trusted because he is too young. For no other reason. The age gap is the problem because of life experience. This story isn’t really about whether it’s “okay” for them to sleep together because that is just not going to happen, no matter what Shin thinks. And any perceptive watcher with know this. (Also this is not dark JBL, dark JBL would have gone there.)

Minato may be immature but he has a fixed moral compass. This story isn’t about that or sacrificing self for desire, those kinds of discourses are left to the older BLs and noona romances, Japan has already tackled it. They’re moving on.

Shin can only be brave, it’s all he knows to try. He cannot be patient. He cannot give up. Minato can only be a coward, it’s all he’s ever been. His only experience is in taking a risk and hurting himself, or taking a risk by betraying his own identity and hurting others.

Minato sees only one outcome: hurt, either his pain or Shin’s. His maturity will be in realizing that the right thing to do will hurt both of them. But for now he remains in limbo, unable to lie and say “I don’t want Shin,” because he is an honest person and he does want Shin.

But also unable to say yes because everything in him is screaming that even if it were right, this is the wrong time. Shin is, by any measure, too young. Minato’s instinct is to run, but he has already run to his hometown and laundromat for safety. And now Shin is challenging him in that space too.

This is what makes this show so tense. We know Minato will not crumble, but the challenge is constant and it is real. And it makes us all, including Minato and Shin, feel unsafe.

Shin is making Minato’s place of refuge unsafe. Minato has nowhere else to go. That’s why this show it titled the way it is.

The laundromat is being used as a metaphor for Minato’s life state.

That’s why each ep always opens and closes on the laundromat. That’s why Shin in ALWAYS depicted in doorways. Between inside and out, one room and another.

Shin is shown coming inside Minato’s spaces.

Shin is desperate to be invited into Minato’s home.

Minato goes outside the building to confront Shin.

Shin waits on the threshold, fainting from heatstroke. Because... he cannot wait.

Because Shin is a teenager, his is in that liminal time of life. He is neither child nor adult. He is himself the spirit of transition. This series is using him occupying thresholds as a metaphor for his life state. He is both AT a threshold and IS a threshold.

Shin is in motion, trying to fit, trying to occupy Minato’s space. In and out of the doorways of Minato’s safe little life, his laundromat. Minato who is ahead of him, settled, hiding under blankets, tending to his machines, embraced by his community, home.

Shin thinks Minato is his home. Is his destination.

And the horror of this show is that there is a distinct possibility that Shin is right.

Minato knows this.

And so do we.

It’s just this is not the right time. Shin hasn’t had a journey yet. You can’t come home, if you never leave it. And you can’t appreciate it, if you never go. That’s the nature of growing up.

Shin may have found his nest. But is it his, if he never learned to fly?

So it is Minato we must trust not to make a mistake. Because Shin is absolutely going to. Shin has put Minato in the position of having to push him out of the nest and watch him fall. Watch him get hurt. Watch him fly away. Minato who actually wants to be the safety net, who saves children from drowning, who wants so desperately to be loved. Minato is going to have to act in a way that is not only disingenuous to his own character, but that he knows Shin will see as a betrayal. Minato is going to have to hope that Shin will go away and grow up and realize that such a betrayal was actually an act of love.

Wether you like this show will depend on whether you trust Minato to do that. Or trust the narrative.

So I can’t answer whether you should watch it yet, because i don’t know. I do trust it. But this is Japan, they always surprise me.

(source)

#japanese bl #flipping heck i have a lot to say these days #JBL #adapted from a manga #live action yaoi #ShinMinato #Old Fashion Cupcake #Old Fashioned Cupcake #Minato Shoji Koinrandori #Minato Shoji Coin Laundry #Minato Shouji Coin Laundry #Minato’s Laundromat #age gap romances

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