#carefree black queer

[umberandmochaagate]

2022's Rainbow Fits

And some bonuses 😌

[jsuisartistofthestars]

✨I went all in for this Halloween✨

[shisyn]

Long time no see 💕

[johnslittlespoon]

curtbuckbucky nightclub au .* :☆ﾟ. ☽

open for drabble/more pics! <3

alright, i've never done a proper 'intro' post for a fic/au i have in mind, but this one has been rotting in my brain for ages and i know there's no way i'm not gonna write something for it eventually so here goes, bear with me <3 made a lil edit (took me fucking hours to collect enough stock footage lmfao) to go along with it too >:)

a modern au where college student curt is a regular at a new–ish queer nightclub, showing up every friday night without fail to dance his heart out, his way of de–stressing at the end of every week and getting his pent up energy out. he's the prettiest little thing, dresses up so fun– some nights he throws on dresses or crop tops with skirts or short shorts when he's feeling it, other nights he goes for more of a relaxed baggy pants and flowy linen button up type of vibe– always with the same pair of scuffed up sneakers on for ease of dancing.

the bartenders and other regulars adore their bubbly little club bunny, always looking out for him, doting on him with free drinks and food. and even if some of them eye curt like he's dinner when he's out on the floor swaying his hips, eyes closed to fully lose himself in the music, the glitter on his eyelids and cheekbones catching the lights just right, curt's not there for any of that. he dances with people occasionally, he's confident and carefree and likes the attention and it makes him giggle when he catches newcomers staring, doesn't mind a wandering hand here and there, but he never goes home with anyone. the same routine, every friday, dancing until his dark waves are curling damp with sweat against his temples and his black eyeshadow is smudged and he leaves to make the walk back to the flat he shares with a few roomies.

enter john and gale, longterm boyfriends who sometimes like to go out clubbing and find someone pretty to bring home for a fun time, only an open relationship in that sense– they have no interest in actually dating other people, both adamant that it's no strings attached, too head over heels for each other to have eyes for anyone else anyway.

they decide to check out a club they haven't been to yet, usually sticking to the tried and true ones, but a couple of their friends recommend it, so they give it a go one friday night. they've barely sat down at the bar with their drinks when they see a boy who, john comments to gale, looks like the 'energizer bunny' (gets a snort out of curt when he tells him so in the future.) even once they're buzzed enough to head out onto the dance floor together, neither of them can take their eyes off of the bundle of energy, mesmerized.

they both know the other is equally enamoured with the boy, drinking up all the glitter and bouncy curls and blissed out smiles, already knowing they just have to have him– the prettiest thing they've ever seen. curt's confused when they approach him, because he's noticed them too, has been admiring from afar, but he's also noticed their hands and lips all over each other, dancing much too close and comfortably to not be a couple. but john purrs out "we just like to have a little fun every now and then sweetheart, don't you?"

and no, not really, he doesn't. usually a night of exhausting himself dancing is his idea of fun, not ever looking for anything else, not finding most guys worth his time. but john and gale sweet talk him just right, spend time actually getting to know him when he agrees to let them buy him a drink at the bar, and fuck, they're both the hottest things he's seen walk into the club in a long time, and they're giving him all their attention? he decides that maybe he'll be brave and flirt back. despite his confidence and lack of caring what other people think about him, he's so shy and easily flustered when someone he's actually into makes the moves on him, doesn't even know what to do with himself when he realizes he's blushing at their compliments and the combination of their heavy gazes on him.

obviously they all get each other worked up as the night goes on, and curt goes home with them and gets his world rocked, spoiled and pillow princess–ed and showered in praise, not at all what he expects hook–ups to be like after having only been with people he's been dating. he expects to walk back home after since they all live in the same vicinity of downtown, tries to ignore his wobbly legs when he finally crawls out of bed, gets dragged back down by gale for one last messy breathless makeout while john gets him an uber before curt can protest or offer to pay.

normally john and gale don't get the numbers of their one night stands, but they want to make sure he gets home safe, and they can both gauge how the other is feeling and they know they'll want to see him again if they're lucky enough for curt to say yes, so john puts his number into curt's phone and tells him "text when you're home safe, yeah? or, y'know, text whenever you want." and curt isn't sure if this is john saying they both want to see him again, because he's dense and shy and they made it clear beforehand that they're in a closed relationship, but next friday he texts to let them know he'll be at the club again, and john and gale tell him they'll be there, the three of them going home together for a second time that night, and they fall into a routine from then on.

curt gets giddy every friday, dolling himself up extra pretty for the two men, flushed at their attention every time and so thrilled to dress up for someone other than himself for once. he can already feel himself going all heart–eyes for them after the second or third time they hook up, but he knows where he stands, and he's having fun experimenting for the first time and having two experienced, sweet guys show him a good time every week, so he doesn't want to jeopardize that by getting his feelings involved.

little does he know that john and gale are falling head over heels too for this sweet energetic boy, loving how much he spices up their lives, both in the bedroom and out, realizing their flat feels so quiet now on the nights where they don't take curt home with them. so that leads to some serious conversations to see if they're on the same page about getting to know curt better, both of them learning how to navigate this new territory because neither of them expected to want to bring someone else into their world like this. they agree they'd like to take curt out on a cute date, during the daytime for once, to properly test the waters and see how curt feels– of course he slots into their lives perfectly, as if he's been there all along. <3

but along the way: lots of slow burn, miscommunication, endless filthy smut, curt trying to balance college and work and friends with his newfound feelings for john and gale, john and gale getting dragged to raves and festivals by their always adventurous bf, city night–life juxtaposed by early morning domesticity, etc etc.

this has been floating around in my head for a couple weeks since i got this vision of 2012–stalker–era barry with eyeshadow and glitter stuck in my brain and thus a whole universe/plot spawned from it. honestly would mostly be pwp, but would love to write a proper fic for it anyway eventually, each chapter littered with filth, obviously LOL. i have so many thoughts and so many little scenarios planned out in my head already... these three have me in a chokehold.

i need to make proper intro/drabble posts like these for my other aus too aghhh it just takes so longggg because i get carried away with the drabble and then i have to find the perfect clips for edits and the perfect pics to tie it all together and suddenly i've spent half a day on one post but. someday <3 leaving!bikeriders au next surely! thx for reading hope u enjoy this version of the boys and hopefully i'll have time to write it soon!

all posts about this au will be under #curtbuckbucky nightclub au :-)

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

skater!au curt & buck friendship headcannons:

(part of my skater!buck x college professor!bucky au wip)

curt & buck have been best friends since they were in preschool. their mothers were best friends so whenever they visited each other they brought the boys with them. queue the ensuing immediate connection because buck thought curt was the funniest thing in the world because the other boy shoved crayons up his nose just to get buck to laugh

curt forever calling buck 'sour-puss' because he always has a resting bitch face and always had one since they were kids. he was the first kid buck ever laughed with/at

curt was there for buck when he lost his mum in hs and all through buck's dad being an absolute deadbeat (as he always is) . he and buck would often go missing for days at a time after buck and his dad fought, but they'd always be at the skatepark learning new moves. anything to distract buck from what was going on at home

after hs the two moved in to a shitty apartment together downtown close to the skatepark. it's a bit rundown and very much needs fixing up but it became their safe-haven

both are just as wild and carefree as eachother but buck is the one to keep a level head in most situations, often being the one to get curt out of trouble. they still don't mention the great traffic cone incident of 2017.

curt is pansexual ("no, that doesn't mean i'm attracted to kitchenware, buck, you fuckin' idiot"), he doesn't care who or what you are. the man is all about free love and accepting who you are without a second thought. so when buck came out to him just after highschool nervous as all heck he just shrugged and asked him if he wanted to get stoned and order pizza to celebrate 'finally getting his head out of his ass'

if you mess with one, you mess with both. buck is a silent force of revenge and if someone fucks with curt you won't know you were even a target until the last second. the last time one of the other skaters had a go at curt for being a 'queer' they found themselves eating the pavement at the bottom of the bowl because the wheels on their board had somehow come loose and fallen off mid-push off. that ended with a trip to the hospital and both buck and curt innocently sitting up against the chainlink fence far enough away that no one suspected a thing

another incident resulted in a lighter exploding in one of the other guy's hands when he was trying to light a smoke. no grievous injuries occurred from that one but eyebrows became non existent and hair was singed.

curt is a little more direct in his approach. he's not afraid to sock someone in the jaw for picking fights with buck or insulting him. he's more likely to just walk up to you and deck someone for being a bigot or just a downright asshole. It works fair enough, and soon everyone knows not to mess with either of the boys unless you wanted a black eye or a missing tooth.

no one could beat curt in a fight either. he took boxing in highschool and won a few trophies, so he's pretty clued in and quick on his feet

both have messed around with each other before when either drunk/high/sober, but they never became anything more than best friends. it was a mutual exchange a few times and it didn't change the way they thought about each other. Curt- "it's just consensual experimentation, two bros helping eachother out. plus who wouldn't want a piece of that pretty face"

buck often helped curt hook up/get with with whoever he was crushing on, curt often singing his praises of being the best wing-man a dropout skater boy could ask for

curt is the one who pushed buck into continuing with college and getting a higher secondary education after hs. he told him he can't drop out because he doesn't want to see his bestfriend become a complete dead-beat, which ended up with buck breaking down into a blubbering mess while high af because he felt like a failure and that his 'mom would be so fucking disappointed man what the fuck would she think'

curt slapped him for that one which knocked some sense into him enough to go and apply for a few courses the next day

I have so many more to add to this but I think I should stop here for now 😂😂 I'm gonna have so much fun with this universe

[siancore]

SamBucky High School AU Moodboards

Bucky "Uniformity Kills Creativity" Barnes is a queercore punk kid who feels stifled by high school and can't wait to graduate. Sam "Queer Black Joy is Radical" Wilson is a carefree kid who loves all things gaming, comic books, and music. They each have a strong sense of what is right and just. Even though they hang out in different circles, they both get caught 'defacing school property' with graffiti as a means of direct-action protest against an injustice that happens in their small town. The pair get to know one another better in detention and sparks fly.

"Hey!" said Steve to Bucky as he snatched his fries away from his best friend. "Get your own."

Bucky scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes before saying, "You're so mean. Sam Wilson wouldn't treat me like this."

Steve rolled his eyes before smirking and saying, "Y'know what? You're right. Sam Wilson would treat you good. You'd know that if you ever, gee I dunno, talked to him for more than five minutes."

"Not gonna happen," Bucky replied.

"Why not?" asked Steve.

"Umm, because he's Sam Wilson," said Bucky with a dreamy sigh. "He's smart and funny and charming and hot. And I'm just...me?"

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," said Steve as he placed a hand to Bucky's shoulder. "You're awesome. So is Sam. You'd make a sickeningly cute couple. You've got a lot in common. You should hang out."

"I appreciate you, Steve, and I know he's a great guy, but the only way Sam Wilson will spend any time with me is if he's forced to."

Steve went to reply to his friend's self-deprecating remark when an announcement was made over the PA system.

"Sam Wilson and James Barnes," the voice said sternly. "You are required in Principal Fury's office right now."

[twelvegrimmyplace]

Nick Grimshaw on kindness, queerness and life lessons as a grown-up.

Gay Times Honours Issue 2023

Friendly media mogul Nick Grimshaw, aka Grimmy, has done it all. He’s introduced his parents to Lady Gaga and, recently, even had tea with Harry Styles. Now, however, the former Radio 1 DJ is getting acquainted with something else – growing up. 

Getting older, no doubt, is terrifying. Carefree late nights with mates at sticky, flooded gigs are suddenly swapped for questions revolving around major milestones: partners, career, and, of course, kids. Close friends are no longer egging you on to ditch work and hangout or checking in to see if you’ve actually drank water. Instead, you’re trying to squeeze in a meetup between deadlines, dates and an ever-growing to-do list of life admin. And Grimmy is no different. Booze-driven afterparties have morphed into nourishing Sunday roast dinners with Mesh, his fiancé. Girl dinner Quaver packets have matured to conversations – on his glitzy new foodie podcast Dish co-hosted by Michelin-star chef Angela Hartnett – with Miriam Margolyes on how she likes her mashed potatoes. 

Having the big four-zero on the radar prompted a new perspective for the presenter. What was once maligned (“I felt like growing older was the end of something or deeply depressing,” Grimshaw admits) has been, mostly, embraced. It’s less coming of age but, rather, coming to age. Still, new digits doesn’t need to mean the fun is over. In fact, just last night, Grimshaw partied late with celebs Jake Shears, Amanda Lepore, Jodie Harsh, and Mutya Buena in Soho. Here in Holborn, however, things are much more mild. Sure, there’s some tasteful framed nude art to our right and Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ crackling over studio speakers but nothing beats a good old-fashioned launch party, or a karaoke b-day bash taking place later this evening in central London. 

Nursing a non-alcoholic beer, Grimshaw scoots across a black leather couch, arriving fresh from a photoshoot, something he describes as his “Naomi Campbell moment”. Comfortably clothed in a light-wash denim shirt and distressed jeans, he kicks off the conversation as if reuniting with an old friend. “I've never taken stock before. I'd never sat down and thought about myself, ever, and I don't think people do,” he says. Since his early twenties, Grimshaw’s image has been inextricably tied to two things: big names and his infamous towering quiff haircut. At some point, he acknowledges, you will have heard his quick-fire Mancunian comedy soundtracking your early mornings. Whether he was making jokes with Taylor Swift or having the early hours crashed by Charli XCX, the presenter became a known face at the Beeb. In his autobiographical book, Soft Lad, Grimshaw reminisces on the pull the small screen had on him as a young child. Armed with a love for glamour and theatrics, the events he saw on the telly called to a younger Grimshaw who dreamed of moving out of Manchester to take on London. 

Onboarding, in 2012, at Radio 1 to cover The Breakfast Show was something the podcaster remembers clearly; “There was a lot of pressure”. His days of spinning songs and connecting with artists over music became more than a vocation, but a specialism. While he does admit, sheepishly, that there were days his hangover ran over into work hours, he’s since taken time to reassess his habits and lifestyle. “When I was 23 I was getting absolutely wasted and doing it like a Geordie Shore night out,” he says. Now, Grimshaw is more conscious of being selectively sober in certain environments. “It can be really hard to go out and connect with people who are drunk and you're not drinking. But, sometimes, you have the best nights ever. I went out last night and went to a really fun party up until 1.30 am and had really good chats with loads of people.” He’s taking stock of the bigger moments around him, particularly ones that bring him closer to friends and family – “It's about learning. It's about growth,” he says earnestly. 

At 39, Grimshaw’s longevity has something to do with his candour and bonhomie. The most common compliment doled out about the presenter is his warmth. As a child, he recalls, the label “soft lad” was stuck to him, presenting his sensitivity as something to be ashamed of. But, years later, it’s become something – like his favourite Maison Margiela knit sweaters – that he wears openly. “At school, I always felt on edge that I was going to get beaten up or laughed at. When you've had that, you learn empathy and you think about how people might feel or what they're going through,” he explains. 

Realisng he was gay, as a child, filled Grimshaw with dread as he feared what it would mean. With limited queer culture references growing up (just Elton John and Lily Savage) his feelings were fully realised, aged 11, when he developed a crush on a poster of England footballer David Beckham pinned up on his bedroom wall. “You know what’s funny, not that I’m doing Miriam Margolyes press, but I saw her yesterday. I'd never met her and I went into her dressing room. Before I could say hello, she pointed and exclaimed: ‘You’re gay!’ and continued with ‘So, my dear, nice to meet you.’ As I got into bed last night, I thought about how that would’ve killed me if I was a teenager, but it was a really lovely bonding moment.” 

Though being a presenter and DJ took up most of Grimshaw’s early adolescent years, his move to writing has allowed him the space to trawl through his past years without expectation. From reassessing his comfort with queerness to realising the strength found in the LGBTQIA+ community outside of his town in Greater Manchester, Grimshaw is grateful for the relationships he’s built with those around him. “I learn constantly from the queer community. It’s that notion of being yourself and leaning into yourself which can be hard to do if you're queer, especially if you've had that knocked out of you when you're a kid,” he says. “The community are essential in helping everyone, and me, support one another.”

Soft Lad and Dish capture different versions of Grimshaw; the quirky characteristics of a presenter that couldn’t surface in a music hotbed. In his new roles, the presenter-meets-podcaster chats to hot-shot talent while unravelling stories centred around food, famous friends and frenzied stories. His book is an homage to his parents (“I realised how important they were shaping me – I love them contractually, but also really love them) and to his English and Irish roots. Bookended between stories of queer curiosity and his loathing for football, tales of community and camaraderie at Radio 1 surface. “I loved it when we had a great guest from the queer community. I had great times with Sam Smith, they would be a riot and would really gossip with us when the records were on and tell us stories that we couldn't have on the radio. Troye Sivan was a great time as well,” he recalls. 

Another memorable moment was his run-in with an early-era Lady Gaga, in Notting Hill, before she became Mother Monster as we now know her. “I did my first interview with Gaga years ago, for the telly, and it was when she was brand new. ‘Just Dance’ had just come out in America and she was making a bra out of gaffer tape on a dressing room floor,” he says, laughing. “I brought mum and dad along because they were in town so they met her right at the beginning of her career. Ever since then, whenever she'd come onto the radio show, she’d ask about my mum and dad.”

Grimshaw’s stories of famous crossovers are, understandably, endless – even if they’re ones he’s told plenty of times before. Up until recently, he’s remained embroiled in an ecosystem of music promoting a “product” but, now, he feels like his new projects allow for authentic conversations about people and their interests. His mantra, nowadays, is this: “Living in the full, truest form of yourself, without fear and judgement.” For a young Grimshaw, this unbridled queer joy took the form of “glamorous” drag shows where he dressed up as Cher for his family. Today, it’s about cooking in a kitchen packed with too many guests (and remembering to drink water). Turning 40, at one point, felt like a frightening due date. Now it’s a milestone Grimshaw is ready to take on.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈𝐈𝐈)

[panel reads from right to left]

« Part 2 | Part 4 » [ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ SYNOPSIS ] As summer comes to an end Zeke disengages from you until he reaches out to go on an excursion to the headlands. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.9k [ CONTENT ] Mentions of vomit and underage drinking, cigarettes, a little angst, depression, kissing, and y/n and Zeke pop off about gentrification because I have a lot of feelings.

September rolled around much too fast. August felt like a blur.

Neither of you brought up the kiss or your confession after it happened. You assumed it would be a turning point in your relationship with Zeke, but he acted like that day with the snow cones was merely that: a day with snow cones. Following his lead you kept your feelings to yourself and masked your disappointment with a cool, carefree attitude. You tried to mirror Zeke’s behavior, unbothered and unchanged.

But you weren’t particularly good at it. You couldn’t kill the longing glances you’d give him when he wasn’t paying attention.

That’s why it wasn’t particularly surprising when Zeke drifted away from you. He never outright ignored you, but you knew you weren’t a priority anymore. He’d make plans with you and cancel them at the last minute. He was always so apologetic, so disarming. Anytime you planned to call out his actions he said something that quelled the raging sea inside you.

“You realize this is the fifth time you’ve done this to me, right?” you managed to ask one night.

It was one of the odd times he called you. Usually you were the one chasing after him.

“I know. I know. That’s why I wanted to make it up to you. I’m not doing anything this weekend. I’m free tomorrow.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you scoffed.

You heard him deeply sigh.

“I swear.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. There was a lengthy pause between you two. You could hear Eren being a little gremlin in the background.

“Fine. What do you wanna do?”

“I want to go wander around up north.”

“You don’t mean that in a Into the Wild sense, right?”

“What? No. I want to go see the ruins of that burnt down swimming pool thing. Fuck. I don’t know what you’d call it. A bath house? No. I don’t like that implication…” He trailed off. “Hold on.”

You held.

“A swimming hall? Natatorium? The… whatever. Look it up. The owners burnt it down themselves.”

“I have to do homework? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You have to go with me. No one else will.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Zeke could be so needlessly sensitive. You couldn’t think of a reason why none of his friends wouldn’t want to go cavorting around the physical remnants of insurance fraud.

“Alright. I’ll go I guess. But you’re buying me food.”

“I’ll cover everything!” he blurted out.

“I was cool with you just buying food but okay.”

“Shit. I got ahead of myself,” he lamented.

Zeke met you at the train station. It was a shock to see him in normal clothes even if this wasn’t the first time. He actually looked rather put together. Dark green corduroy straight leg pants, a fitted grey t-shirt lazily tucked in, and matte black Doc Martens. He had a windbreaker tossed over his arm, his backpack dangling lazily off his shoulder.

“Did you seriously do a French tuck?”

“Excuse me for watching Queer Eye and taking notes… Do I look stupid?”

No, you thought to yourself. He looked positively adorable. You tried not to stare at him too hard; you didn’t want him to see you all starry-eyed because he wore pants with no grass stains.

“You do but it’s whatever,” you lied.

“You look… nice.”

You were dressed the same as usual. It was impossible to tell if he was being an ass or was simply nervous and didn’t know how to express himself.

“Just nice?” you teased, opting to give him shit.

He glanced to the side, scratching behind his ear.

“I lied. You look like garbage.”

“On a hot, summer day?”

“Only the hottest for you, kiddo.”

Kiddo. You hadn’t heard him say it in so long; it was music to your ears. Memories of the good times came flooding back to you, but still. You couldn’t kill the vague sense of resentment you held deep inside.

Zeke bought your train ticket as promised. He winced when he saw how high the fares went up.

“That much to get to the city?”

“I know. The more transplants that move here, the more expensive everything gets.”

“You know that place where we'd get those breakfast sandwiches by my house?”

It was clear where he was going. So many old standbys were going out of business. Your favorite bookstore had just shut its doors the week before, a heartbreak if there ever was one.

‘It’s gone, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, couple weeks ago. It’s going to be fucking beer garden.”

“Not another one!” you shrieked.

Beer gardens seemed to be popping up everywhere. They were the bane of your existence. They were overpriced. You were too young to go to them. And wherever they popped up so did an influx of drunken tech workers.

“I know. Poor Eren thought it was going to be a bear garden.”

The two of you trudged up the stairs to the train platform because as per usual the escalators were out of service and the elevator operated at a snail’s pace.

“A bear garden could be cool,” you pondered.

“Eugh. No. You could not do that humanely.”

“Oh well excuse me for entertaining a child’s idea,” you snarked, elbowing Zeke gently in the ribs.

“Sorry, sorry. I spent an hour trying to tell Eren why it would be fucked up. It was like talking about SeaWorld all over again.”

“You’re probably better off not trying to educate a little boy on that stuff.”

The train rolled in the second you summited the stairs. You both sprinted to the train, bumping into each other as you tried to enter the doors side by side at the same time. Just as you were about to eat absolute shit, Zeke reached and grabbed your waist saving you from colliding on the dirty floor of the train.

“Thanks. I would have been pretty grossed out if my face touched that.”

“No problem. You’re, uh, too cute to be falling face first into old gum and whatever that stain is.”

He pointed at a particularly gross, mysterious stain. You shivered at the sight of it and collapsed into a seat. Zeke sat down next to you and rested his head on your shoulder.

“You have a lot of nerve acting like this considering you’ve been a total dickhead to me.”

He shut his eyes and exhaled.

“I know.”

“Are you going to bless me with an explanation?”

‘It’s embarrassing for so many reasons.”

You gently pushed him off of you.

“I think we have time.”

He was silent, shoulders slumped forward. He obscured his face with his hands.

You continued, “I tell you I like you. You kiss me. And then you disappear?”

“I didn’t disappear. I talked to you.”

“Barely! You sent me memes, Zeke! That doesn’t count.”

“They were really fucking funny though. The best ones in my camera roll. I don’t send those to just anyone.”

“That almost makes it worse. You thought you could placate me with memes? Pictures of cute dogs? Panels from Boy’s Club?”

He finally looked up, and fixed his gaze on you.

“They were the best panels. The funniest ones.”

“Zeke. Please tell me you’re kidding,” you sneered louder than expected.

The lone man sitting sharing the train car with you scowled and went to the next one over.

“I needed to disengage! Summer was getting close to being over and I was thinking about college. I mean, this was fun—”

“Was? Was fun? As in it’s not fun anymore?”

He turned away and looked out the window. The cerulean sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds. The weather couldn't have been any more spectacular, a rare even temperature day in September. It was a shame it was being wasted on a mess like this.

“That’s not what I meant. What? Were we supposed to date and then I leave for school? That would’ve just made it worse.”

“... Hold on.”

“What?!”

He didn’t quite yell at you, but it was a tone you hoped to never be on the receiving end of. You’d seen him pull it with his dad constantly, and Eren maybe once or twice. But never you.

“First, you’re not allowed to talk to me like that.”

He lightly banged his head on the window, but remained silent.

“Second, if you were leaving for school you should be… not here right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay so why are you not gone?”

It was hard to make sense of any of this. Your feelings were hurt by how he was acting but you were more concerned with his vagueness.

“I didn’t get in,” he muttered in the littlest voice possible.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“And you didn’t tell me this because…?”

You wanted him to look at you so you could understand him. He was more than capable of hiding behind his words.

“I felt stupid… I… only applied to one school.”

Consoling him crossed your mind, but you knew he’d never accept it. The rest of the ride was in utter silence.

When you got off the train Zeke looked miserable. A melancholic fog hovered around him.

“Are you hungry?” you asked in a gentle voice.

“I guess.”

“I was thinking the ferry terminal might be cool. There’s a ton of crap there.”

He shrugged and started to walk ahead of you. You grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards. He turned and faced you, utterly bewildered.

“I thought we were hanging out.”

He sighed and adjusted his glasses.

“Good point. I don’t know why I did that. I have no idea where anything is in there anyway.”

“Listen, let’s get some overpriced food. Sit by the pier, watch the traffic on the bridge while we wait for the bus to the headlands. And, I don’t know, you can maybe talk to me?”

“I think I can do that.”

“Good because you said you were paying for everything and I didn’t ask my mom for any money,” you said, holding the door open for him.

When you walked in you were inundated with the smell of fresh baked bread. The inside was magnificent, natural light streaming through the windows of the nave. You walked through the marketplace, peering at every vendors’ wares.

“I want gelato. No wait, macarons. No wait, definitely gelato… Shit no actually—”

Zeke cut you off, stopping you drowning in indecision.

“Both. We’ll get both,” he said, patting you on the head.

The gelato shop ended up having an incredibly long line and neither of you were feeling patient enough to wait it out. Any hint of disappointment either of you felt melted away when you spotted the macaron stand.

You ordered a dozen of them without looking at the hefty price. Zeke winced as he pulled out his dad’s debit card. You could not give a shit. The macarons looked so precious packed away in their pastel pink and green box.

“Let me get the Earl Grey one,” he said as you both walked to the bakery that filled the terminal with the smell of fresh baked bread.

“Not yet!”

He rolled his eyes.

“You’re torturing me on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Kinda,” you said, getting in line to make him buy you a baguette.

“We should get fancy cheese to go with it.”

You weren’t in love with him by any means but you knew if he kept saying things like that you could be. He must’ve known it. He smirked at you the second he noticed your eyes get all wide at the mention of cheese. The disappointment between the two of you when you realized a hunk of aged cheddar would cost you an absurd amount of money was intense.

“What about the camembert?” Zeke asked.

“Twenty bucks.”

“You’re joking. It’s just fucking cheese.”

“Kid, no one’s saying you gotta buy it.”

“Kid?!”

You grabbed Zeke by the arm and dragged him away from the creamery. Getting out of there was your number one priority even if his artisan cheese induced anger was hilarious. You knew he was mere seconds away from going on a tangent about capitalism and dairy farms.

“Kid?!” he repeated as you led him into a gourmet grocery store.

You eyed the perfectly ripe avocados, rushing over to lightly squeeze one.

“They’re perfect.”

You grabbed three.

“That seems a little excessive,” he muttered.

“Oh hush, kid.”

“Seriously?!”

“Zeke, you literally call me ‘kiddo’ constantly. I hope the irony... is this irony? Whatever. I hope the irony isn’t lost on you.”

He read the back of a bag of trail mix.

“Good point.” He paused. “Do I like walnuts?”

You ripped the bag from his hands, saying, “No, it’s pecans you like.”

“I’m glad one of us remembers,” he replied, grabbing a different bag.

After you thoroughly spent his dad’s money on expensive food you sat by the pier to take inventory. Staring down at the box of macarons you realized that maybe twelve was too many for two people.

“You were right. Six would have been plenty.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve amended my stance on that.”

“Have you amended your stance on not telling me shit?

He sighed and looked at his phone.

“Bus will be here in five.”

“Come on! You’re lucky I’m even here with you. I thought about not showing up as some sick form of revenge for how you’ve been acting.”

“I don’t know what to say honestly. There’s no excuse.”

“I’m not asking for excuses. I’m trying to understand.”

He stood up and pointed at the bustling street behind you. A puff of exhaust smoke tickled your nose as you heard the squeak of old brakes.

“You can try to understand on the bus. Let’s go.”

The bus ride felt endless mostly because Zeke didn’t say much the entire time. Forty minutes of what you considered dead air. He’d occasionally comment on how choppy the waves were as the bus snailed across the bridge. He looked so dramatic, eyes narrowed, the side of his head pressed up against the cool window. You knew he was struggling trying to articulate his feelings but you couldn’t help yourself.

“You look so serious right now.”

He turned to you, looking like the definition of miserable. It seemed to be his default emotion for the day. Just as he went to open his mouth the bus driver slammed on the brakes. The crackly speaker mumbled the name of your stop and you both stepped off the bus.

A swift coastal breeze pierced through you. Shivers invaded your body. Your jacket did little to protect you. Without a word Zeke put his windbreaker over your shoulders. You went to say something but he spoke before you had a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, wandering down towards the concrete ruins of a burned down natatorium. “I run warm. You know that.”

You hated yourself for knowing that. Many summer nights were spent curled up in a field, head resting on his chest, clinging to his body because you were always a little cold regardless of the season.

His windbreaker smelled faintly of cigarettes and laundry detergent. After pulling it on you trailed after him, carrying the food rather precariously. He turned around and saw you struggling to maneuver yourself down the hill in one piece.

“Shit,” he said, bounding up the hill, grabbing the baguette from you.

“Wow, thank you so much,” you snarked. “You can’t do this shit to me. The whole ‘let me do something really fucking sweet and then act like a clueless asshole the next’ act is tiresome.”

He lowered his eyes and said nothing. You wanted to shake him but, again, losing your footing and careening into the ocean would’ve been hell itself.

The ruins weren’t nearly as interesting as you thought they’d be. When you read about the place getting burned down by the owners in the 1940s for insurance money it sounded so intriguing. But now standing on the concrete ruins all you felt was disappointment.

Zeke sat down and watched as the tide came in and crashed against the ruins.

“I am sorry. You know that,” he murmured.

“I don’t though!” you exclaimed, opening the box of macarons.

Zeke’s hand snuck inside immediately and grabbed the Earl Grey tea one. It was almost as if it materialized inside the box.

“Basically my hubris destroyed my life.”

“That seems really dramatic.”

“It is. But there’s still truth to it. I assumed being an athlete would make up for my average grades.”

“Is that your wording or—”

He cut you off. “Mine. Obviously.”

“I always thought your grades were really good,” you said, biting into a macaron.

“Really good is apparently much more relative than I initially considered.”

“So something shitty happened to you and you decided to push someone that cares about you away?”

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Where did I say I wasn’t?”

You sighed.

“Good point… I don’t know. What you did fucked me up.”

“I know.”

“I literally had just told you I liked you.”

“I know.”

“And then you ignore me.”

“Yup.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, hand brushing up against your body, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“Sorry. I should have taken them out before you, uh, put it on. That felt invasive.”

You stifled a laugh and patted yourself down for his lighter, handing it over once you found it.

“Do you mind?” he asked, holding up a single cigarette.

“Only if you let me have one.”

“You almost got sick last time.”

“Okay, well… The key word there is almost.”

He relented and handed the cigarette to you. You stared it down, hoping this time you’d be able to keep your cool. He lit it for you like a gentleman. One inhale left your eyes and mouth watering. Zeke plucked it from between your fingers.

“Oh god! Why!?” you called out to the heavens.

“I refuse to feel bad for you. This is the fifth time you’ve done this, kiddo.”

“Fuck you,” you said, spitting into the ocean trying to rid yourself of the taste. “Stop humoring me!”

“I am in no position to say no to you. I’m trying to get back on your good side, remember?”

You moaned and took a sip from your water bottle. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. The tenderness nearly killed you.

“Why did you leave me hanging? You could’ve cried on my shoulder. These babies were made for crying,” you said, gesturing at your shoulders.

“Embarrassment.”

“Seriously?”

“Pride? I don’t know. Nothing I say is going to make sense. I was acting childish.”

“Okay true.”

“Everyone tried to tell me it was going to be fine, that everything would work itself out, but it didn’t change how idiotic I was.”

“You were confident. Overly. But not idiotic.”

“I also didn’t feel deserving of, you know, people being so fucking understanding.” He took a drag. “Even my dad was understanding which made me withdrawal from everyone out of spite.”

“I mean you saw all your jock friends so you didn’t withdrawal from everyone.”

He reclined, his body lightly thudding against the ground. He took another drag off his cigarette.

“Nope. I lied. I was holed up in my room, wrapped up in a blanket like a hermit,” he said, exhaling.

You bit into another macaron; you didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to see you, but I, I don’t know, felt like I was stuck. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“I saw you barf into your own hands at a party once.”

“Don’t.”

“You tried to carry it outside.”

He winced and finished off his cigarette.

“Please,” he begged.

“You wept and asked if I’d move to Bombay Beach with you.”

“Stop torturing me.”

“What I’m getting at is I have seen you in much more pathetic situations. You being depressed is way more manageable than you and your vomit hands… to me at least.”

Depression was significantly more complicated than cleaning up a drunk teenage boy. You knew that and kicked yourself for being so callous.

He laughed and put out his cigarette.

“Good point. You’ve definitely seen me at my worst.”

You both sat in silence and ate the macarons. However this time the silence was pleasant. You watched the waves flood over the ruins, leaving them covered with sea foam. A deeper understanding of Zeke’s situation had been granted to you. You were still hurt but at least you knew why he acted the way he did.

“What are your post-graduation plans?” Zeke asked as you both sat on top of a decrepit building used to store military shells. “I probably should have asked that earlier.”

It was your idea to check out the old military buildings nestled away in the hills. One battery touted a perfect view of the ocean. When you crested the hill you were blown away by the vastness of the Pacific. You knew it was big; you weren’t an idiot. But seeing it stretched out in front of you, seemingly endless, was awe inspiring.

“I’m gonna work at the nursery down the street from me, you know, tending to the plants and shit. I’m hoping I can save up enough money before I decide what to do in terms of college. I figure I’ll give myself a year.”

“See? Why can’t I think like you? That’s fun and reasonable.”

You laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“I mean it kinda sucked realizing I couldn’t just afford to go to school. I dropped the ball on scholarships.”

He broke off a piece of the baguette and handed it to you.

“Eh, it happens.”

You bit into the baguette, savoring the tanginess of the sourdough.

“Could be worse. You could have died,” he quipped.

“The bar is on the floor then if that’s the case.”

“It’s the little things,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder.

You both stared out into the ocean, the sunlight glimmering on the waves.

“When’s the bus supposed to come?”

“An hour or so,” he replied.

“Am I… going to have to worry about you disappearing on me after this?”

“I’d like to think that I won’t. But I feel odd making any promises.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather not hurt you again.”

“I’m not asking you to sign a contract,” you giggled. “I just hope that summer isn’t the only thing that brought us together. That’s all.”

“I always assumed it was ditching class. Our benign rebellion.”

Zeke was able to go from dead serious to joking around so fast it made your head spin.

“You can be so obnoxious sometimes.”

“I only do it because I like you.”

“Really?”

He turned to you and pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

“Yup. You’re stuck with me now. I dare you to try and get rid of me.”

It never occurred to you to do such a thing. This is what you always wanted, to be near him. To have his arms wrapped around you, his soft lips pressed against your skin. You needed to remember this moment, to hold onto it during the unkind winter. Every detail was crucial. How his hair got tousled by the salty, sea breeze. How his glasses fogged up when you threw caution to the wind and kissed him deeply. How awkward he was after and how he apologized for not being a good kisser.

“You’re too self conscious,” you said, wrapped up in his embrace.

“Well excuse me for wanting this memory to be special.”

He looked inhumanly adorable as the waning sunlight danced along the apples of his cheeks. The moment couldn’t get any more picturesque.

“It already is.”

[innytoes]

Can I request 3 + 6 for the werecat willex au, please? 🥺 (optional wereraccoon Willie)

Listen, when his parents sent him to an Christian summer camp at age thirteen in the hopes of curing the signs of queerness that they seemed to have picked up on well before Alex realised that he wanted to kiss boys (that was a revelation for next summer camp), Alex never suspected he'd come back a were-cat.

Like, all he'd wanted to do was get away from his very loud bunk mates for a little while, and sit somewhere quiet in the forest, and maybe be a little homesick (not to his actual house, but to Bobby's garage, where his drum set was waiting, and his friends were probably having a great times without him).

And then there this fluffy, cute black cat had been, and it had been so friendly, and let him pet it while purring up a storm. He'd told it he wished he could be that carefree, just chasing butterflies and snoozing in the sun, and then the furry little asshole had bitten him.

Listen, Alex had been thirteen, and gangling, and his voice had started to crack and go high pitched really embarrassingly. How could he have known what was just puberty and what had been the start of transforming into a werecat?

But in the end, it was kind of a cool thing. Being a cat was very relaxing. Nobody had any expectations of cats. They could be assholes and they were cute. They could be shy and they were cute. The could nap all day and be cute. It did wonders for his anxiety, just like playing the drums did.

So now, whenever he'd have a rough day, or he needed to relieve some stress, or sometimes just because a sun beam looked particularly inviting, he'd go into Cat Mode, and be a cat. He'd walk over walls and fences he'd be too scared to fall off as a human (cats always landed on their feet). He'd chase butterflies or his own tail or just have the zoomies before curling up to nap. He'd go over to his really cute neighbour's house and curl up in his lap while being stroked and adored.

So sue him, if he had to deal with being forced into being a cat every full moon, he was going to get something out of it as well. Including getting to know Willie as a cat, so when he finally had the courage to actually talk to him, he could be cool about it.

(He was not cool about it, because when he finally talked to Willie it was because the guy had crashed into him on a skateboard. But it did break the ice. And they did start dating soon after.)

So yeah, being a part-time cat was kind of nice. Sure, he couldn't tell anyone about it, but it wasn't the kind of secret he minded keeping. It was less 'pretending he wasn't gay' and more 'not telling everyone he liked to dance to Whitney Houston in his underwear while cleaning.'

Things were perfect.

Except for The Raccoon.

The Raccoon had been following him around for several weeks now. Whenever he was out and about, catting it up, preening while little old ladies called him Such a Handsome Boy, The Raccoon was never far. And it was always trying to touch him with its creepy little almost human-like hands.

So Alex had started spending more time indoors. He built himself the cutest little cat-sized blanket fort in his comfy chair, with his favourite toy mousie and a soft blanket and just the perfect view out the window so he could look at birds.

Except then The Raccoon started showing up in front of his window. And... waving? It almost seemed like it was waving. Super weird.

The final straw was, one afternoon when Alex was taking a nap, a human, on the couch nap, he woke up to find a comforting weight on his chest.

Except when he opened his eyes, The Raccoon was staring up at him adoringly, creepy little hands petting his chest.

"Wargh!" Alex shouted, sitting up so fast The Raccoon was flung from his chest into his lap, which wasn't much better, so he flailed until it was on the ground. "No, no, no, get out! Get out!" he shouted, like it could understand him.

Except it seemed to, throwing him a hurt look and moving away, and then... growing. And growing. Until Willie was standing at his door, looking heartbroken. "Fine," his boyfriend said. "I thought it would be cool to date another were, but if you're going to be an asshole about it, never mind."

"Wait, what?" Alex said. "Willie? You were The Raccoon?"

Willie paused, looking just as confused as Alex felt. "Um yeah, I'm a wereraccoon."

"You're a werewhat?"

"You didn't know?" Willie asked incredulously.

"No!" Alex shrieked. "I thought this feral raccoon was stalking me, like some kind of deranged Pepe LePew!"

Sure, Willie laughing at him was better than the hurt look on his face, but the gleeful cackles still made him all hot in the face and... well, wish he was a cat so he could curl up in his little fort and not come out for several hours.

Which is what he did. Since apparently Willie had known he was a cat the entire time. When Willie was done laughing, he crouched in front of Alex' fort, looking contrite. "I'm sorry," he told him earnestly. "I thought you knew. I thought it was like tag, you know. I didn't mean to freak you out."

Slowly, Alex stuck his head out of the fort, booping his nose to Willie's.

Turned out the blanket fort was big enough for a cat and a raccoon if you snuggled close enough. And that even as a raccoon, Willie's little hands gave good scritches.

[umberandmochaagate]

Main Events

[livgr3]

Roundtable: Across the Universe (2007) dir. Julie Taymor

Across the Universe transforms thirty-three popular songs by The Beatles into a wacky musical odyssey that explores the highs and lows of youth counterculture movements in 1960s US and Britain. With major characters named Jude, Lucy, and Prudence who all have obvious namesakes from within the Beatles' discography, the lyrics and perspective of the bands' music informs the characters' attitudes and circumstances throughout the film. Though it's unclear whether the Beatles exist in the films' universe, which seems to be an imagined caricature of the 60s, its certain that Taymor believes their music captures the essence of the sixties, as the (mostly white and well-off) characters sorrowfully sing their way through the turmoil of the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights movement....

At times, this film relies on cinematic narrative expectations, and at others, the film feels like a two-hour long Beatles music video. Some creative risks are taken, such as an LSD-sequence or a highly choreographed interpretation of the military drafting process during the Vietnam War. Though the film is fun when it indulges in its wackiness, I found that it was stuck between following a narrative structure and subverting it, causing it to feel unsatisfying, disjointed and generally underdeveloped.

With this in mind, there's a lot of small characters and storylines that make the film a bit difficult to summarize. Here's a synopsis from Google:

When young British worker Jude (Jim Sturgess) sets sail for the United States in search of his father, he ends up meeting carefree college student Max (Joe Anderson) and his lovely sister, Lucy (Evan Rachel Wood), along with a cast of eccentric characters. As Jude and Lucy fall for each other, their relationship is threatened by the social upheaval that accompanies the Vietnam War.

Social Aspects Through Song

The "social aspects" of Across the Universe are conveyed through the films' songs in a way that is incredibly on-the-nose and un-subtle. In fact, nothing about this film is subtle. For instance, when unemployed artist Jude is upset with his booked and busy girlfriend for being too involved in the anti-war movement, he shows up at the nonprofit and starts singing "You say you want a revolution..." In another sequence, Max prepares to be screened for military service, and giant Uncle Sam posters come to life and start singing "I want you."

With such un-nuanced recreations of political events, I am unsure of what exactly this film is trying to say about the 1960s' political and social revolutions from a 2007 vantage point. On the contrary, perhaps the film is attempting to create an "objective" yet campy and fun retelling of 60s history with a focus on the youth, without deliberately trying to "say" anything new at all. With this non-argumentative lens, the film seems blissfully unaware of its own shortcomings, such as the unresolved sexism of its two male leads, or the surface-level characterization of Lucy and the heavily apparent absence of the second-wave feminist movement.

Perhaps the most questionable of this films missteps, though, is its treatment of race through song. The film's secondary cast features a queer Vietnamese female character, Prudence, who randomly disappears from the film a third of the way in. Then there is Jo-Jo. When it is revealed to the characters that Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, the film cuts to Jo-Jo, a Black man, singing at a bar, only to reveal that his sad song is actually about Sadie, the woman who left him. While social issues of race clearly loom over the characters' heads, the film employs the powers of the Beatles' "All You Need is Love" rhetoric to wash over any nuance pertaining to the topic. This is especially interesting since this rhetoric within actual hippie circles in the 1960s proved to be a clear failure.

Musical Memories and Genre-bending

On the changing force of pop music within the movie musical format, Mira writes: "In assessing what pop songs bring to the musical, we must consider, firstly, that a song's meaning is conveyed not only through melody, rhythm, and lyrics: engaging with an audience's memories, viewpoints, and personal background can be powerful in unleashing meaning as well" (24). In this sense, I think Across the Universe transforms its musical source material and plays with audience's familiarity with its songs in a really fun and effective way.

The film's opening is a really great example of how it blends the audiences' diverging associations of a classic Hollywood musical versus a classic rock music video. These two juxtaposing numbers comprise the opening:

Within this introduction, we are already hit with three different musical styles: the Beatles' contemplative ballads through Jude, a more intense female rock voice, and a more classical "musical theatre" style through Lucy. However, all of the songs sung are by the same artist. In this way, the film often plays around with the melodies, keys, tempos, etc. of the original Beatles' songs in order to suit which character is singing a given song. I think this is a really clever way of making similar-sounding music feel dynamic enough to remain interesting for the span of a two-hour film while also serving practical narrative functions. The songs of the Beatles are also transformed to song like other artists or sub-genres of 60s rock and roll. For example, the character Sadie's songs are reminiscent of rock stars like Stevie Nicks or Janis Joplin, while Jo-Jo's skilled guitar playing is inspired by the likes of Jimi Hendrix. In this way, the film pays homage to several icons of the era, despite only using actual music created by one band of the time.

[nimuetheseawitch]

for character headcanons: klinger and margaret

Klinger

1: sexuality headcanon 

Flexible. Hard to label because his gender is hard to label/he doesn't canonically seem to claim anything other than cishet. But I 100% see him as someone who says he's a straight man and then enjoys being a woman and will also totally have relationships/sex with men. He doesn't care about coloring in the lines of any chosen label.

2: otp 

I can't help it, I love canon for this. Soon Lee is perfect for him and I just died when she said she wanted to see him in a dress sometime. I also love to imagine that he and Henry hooked up before the war.

3: brotp 

Mulcahy. They gamble together, they both have black market connections, and they care about a lot of the same things in some really sweet ways. I love it when we see them team up on things, and I love their interactions in church and gambling in backrooms. They deeply respect each other and their differences and I love that.

4: notp 

Winchester. My apologies to those who love this, but Charles has often done wrong by Klinger, and it's just a no for me.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head 

Post-war tailor shop that secretly serves the queer community. Who else in Toledo knows how to tailor women's clothes to masculine bodies?

6: one way in which I relate to this character

I would also trade away my favorite salami for an incredibly personal gift for a friend and then take zero credit for it (it would embarrass me to be acknowledged).

7: thing that gives me secondhand embarrassment about this character

I don't think anything Klinger does embarrasses me. I'm furious about some things on his behalf, like how everyone treats him when he decorates, but I can't think of any embarrassment.

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Cinnamon roll all the way through.

Margaret

1: sexuality headcanon 

This is fun because I recently changed my mind. I now hc her as aromantic. I always thought of her as bi/queer, but I've been thinking a lot recently about the possibility of her being aromantic and how that intersects with her perception of her gender and related expectations. The happiest liaison she has is the carefree one night stand after her divorce where she really embraces her freedom to not worry about all the trappings of romance. She tries so hard to fit into this box of the woman who needs a man and marriage, and we see her fumble with this idealistic romance after sleeping with Hawkeye and with Scully. We also see her really happy when eschewing traditional gender roles with Frank, and although she keeps asking him for romance, it either goes horribly wrong or seems to really be about sex and not much more. I don't know, I got rambly, but I like my new headcanon.

2: otp 

Herself. I know this is kind of cheating, but I kinda want Margaret to be single and become part of the 60s free love thing. Eschewing marriage and boxes and embracing bodily autonomy seems right up her alley, and I want her to find happiness without being tied to any one person. I want her to love herself.

3: brotp 

Hawkeye. They are the best besties and should be best friends forever. I want Margaret and Hawkeye to get together and gossip about their various sexual escapades and scheme together to set up an illegal abortion clinic.

4: notp 

Power imbalances in either direction. This isn't one specific person but more about her characterization of someone who sleeps with generals. I am incredibly creeped out by the implication that some of them are her father's friends. I also think she wouldn't sleep with someone who she commands because she'd be uncomfortable with the power imbalance (she makes a comment at some point about how she's dating Frank because he's a Major) - she already struggles to even be friends with those she commands.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head 

She has 100% explored her sexuality with both Lorraine and Helen.

6: one way in which I relate to this character

All of those feelings about expectations - from the expectations of her parents to behaving professionally to gender.

7: thing that gives me secondhand embarrassment about this character

The shrieking over Radar waking her up and other similar things. She's so quick to assume he's a creep and doesn't give him the benefit of the doubt (tbf, he does peek in the nurses' shower, but he pretty much always treats her with respect).

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

*sigh* I want her to be a cinnamon roll (and by the end she's pretty much there), but she definitely starts out as problematic. She has so much character growth, and I love her.

[livums]

🌨️ 🌞

Hi!! Ty for the ask 💜

Ask Game here!

🌨️ book you hate

oh thank god. ok so

Kushiel's Dart (and the whole fucking series i guess) by Jacqueline Carey is the bane of my existence. BUT some notably GOOD things about it: it's a work from 2002, but is a very queer- and sw-positive book. Which I love! I think it's awesome. There's a lot about this aspect of it that's really worth emulating.

but it is, like, mega racist. lol.

it takes place in an alternate history wherein certain people are descended from literal angels... but all these people happen to be white. and french. And they are literally described as the most beautiful people in the world. And people from other cultures are frequently described as ugly by comparison, and/or barbarians ... lol. Very fashy and racial determinist-type vibes, especially when the mc talks about how, like, other races don't understand beauty the way they do. or whatever the fuck.

There's also an analogue to the Romani people... and they're all like. colorful traveling fortune tellers. lol.

Like so far there's literally not been one black person in the entire work (I'm like halfway through book 2). All of the beautiful angel descendants are described as being "pale" and "fair", or, at the darkest, "golden".

so my actual verdict is that the book sucks like a lot which is a shame because the rest of it is really compelling. oh well!

she has a companion novel coming out (the first book but from the perspective of the male lead) and i may or may not read it because i'm just so curious. like it's been 21 years... has anyone, like, told her? that her book is majorly racist? lol? Anyways.... /rant

🌞 favourite character from current wip

Ohh this is fun! From The Romance of the Demigods, it's eeeeeaaasily Kesh! She's got a carefree attitude that's a joy to write, sure, but she also feels things very intensely... I think she's great!

[asvterias]

can you do an angela headcanon/one shot where she bullies picks on eleven out of jealousy bc you two are close and she has a crush on you

𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖠𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇... ~ 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅𝖺

Warnings: Major Angst, Implications of a Possessive!Angela & Bullying

Pairings: Angela x Fem!Black!Reader

Summary: Falling for your best friend can be overbearing so when confessing your love to the blonde, strangely, goes according to plan, someone will always be with a barrier.

Tag List: @janeswhore @yurdreamgirlfriend @clarkegriffinslever @danielchopa1

Word Count: 1,038

Author’s Note: Decide to turn this into a angsty one-shot, still hope you like this, anon! This angsty one-shot is based on ‘Strangers’ by Celeste.

♫ from strangers to friends ♫

You were a new girl, just transferring from Canada and Angela had her eyes set on you. At first, she wanted you to become apart of her friend group and, surprisingly, she managed to snag you.

Everything seemed to be going great until two other new students transferred from Hawkins, Indiana.

Personally, the blonde didn't have a problem with Jane at first, if she was being honest. If only, Jane had been aware of her surroundings, this wouldn't have happened, if the brunette had just kept her eyes off of you but, no – she wanted to latch onto you like a lost puppy.

The blonde wasn't blind, she saw the twinkle in her eyes whenever you complimented her. You used to compliment her but it all became a tinted blur, at least, on her end.

Angela is one to get insanely jealous based on the proximity. For instance, she wasn't supposed to feel jealous, because you weren't hers and you were just a friend to her, right? Oh, how wrong she was, she didn't want to admit it but maybe – just maybe, her heart swooned by the thought of you alone.

♫ friends into lovers ♫

Or perhaps, you were just being friendly, but, do friends often kiss and hold hands like you regularly do? For starters, her parents are extremely homophobic and would often chastise their daughter about the wrongdoings of the LGBTQ+ community. If being queer was wrong, why did Angela feel so serene whenever she feels butterflies by just scrutinizing at you.

Sun rays kissed your ebony complexion which made Angela envious, dreaming that it was her instead, kissing your soft skin.

When the girl decided to insult the brunette teen during her presentation in history class, you quickly shut that party down, “Angela, you already had your turn. Let Jane, speak.”

That statement earned a side eye from the blonde, making her question whose side you were really on. In which the brunette girl kindly smiles at you in response, making you mirror it back.

Apparently, you couldn't go to the outing because, currently, you were on a 4-hour plane ride over to Canada to visit some family and would return back mid-July.

This was a perfect opportunity to scare Jane into not interacting with you anymore. Therefore, you would be her best friend and she would distance herself from the other teen girl.

“Stay away from [name] or you'll regret it.” Angela warned the brunette before skating off with her friends.

Angela would be lying if she didn't feel a bit guilty for embarrassing the Hopper girl at the skating rink and only wondered what you would now assume of her. Unfortunately for her, Will had told you what went down at the rink, and you were infuriated at the girl.

How could she just do that? Especially to someone as carefree as Jane.

Ever since you knew her, she didn't bully anyone and kept her friend group small. At this point, you seemed genuinely concerned for your dear friend; why was she acting out like this?

“It's not important anyway, [name].” She sighed deeply, her gaze faltering somewhere else in your room. Her voice became instantly hushed, “I did it for you, anyway.”

You scoffed incredulously, folding your arms. “It is a big deal, Angie. You bully Jane for no reason whatsoever.” You somehow caught onto Angela's last words and your heart sunk to your stomach.

Were you the problem that caused a rift between Jane and Angela?

Turns out you ended up confessing to her during the heated argument and it was like the world stopped. You liked her. Which meant that those small kisses were significant and not just for laughs.

♫ and strangers again... ♫

As the universe intended, all good times must always come to a short end. Thereafter, you both calmed down, still furious at the reasoning behind Jane's torment; all because she was just jealous of your friendship with Jane.

Yet, she still refused to apologize to Jane for mistreating her. As a result of her selfishness, she received the consequences.

“Well, if you can't apologize to Jane, then we're no longer friends...” You concluded with a shaky exhale.

“Come on, [nickname], you don't mean that,” She reached out for your hands but you pulled them away, eliciting a frown on the blonde's face.

“I really thought that we could have been more than friends but despite everything we've been through, jealousy isn't your strongest suit.” You affirmed, tears already rushing down your cheeks. “I need you to leave.”

“[name]...” You turned your gaze away. You weren't ready to hear her pleading excuses anymore. You were tired – so fucking tired. Tired of feeling like someone's else puppet all of the time. You should be able to have other friends too.

If she truly loved you, she would have made things right with Jane.

With her head held down, she walked past you, her footsteps padding against your floor as you briefly caught her perfume scent before your bedroom door slammed shut.

This strong bond of friendship was bound to break someday and unexpectedly, it was today, and all because of the brunette girl.

For the first time in her life, the blonde had no one else to blame but herself. Oh, how she wished that things were different.

Now Angela was a meaningless stranger in your life, once again, and she would do anything to have you back in her arms.

From this day forward, she couldn't win you over with a cheery smile and a warm welcome anymore, she had to earn her way back into your heart because if she couldn't change for you, is she even worthy of you at all?

© asvterias, 2022. please do not plagiarize any of my works.

[ghost-hosts]

Corbin Astrophel

General Information

First name: Corbin 

Middle name(s): Astrophel

Surname: Obitus

Age: 35+

Date of birth: 10/31

Race: Spirit

Gender: indifferent/nonbinary

Sexuality: queer

Current residence: HK Manor, Peach, Louisiana

Relationship status: Single

Social status: Upper Class

Traits of Voice

Accent (if any): Irish

Language spoken: English

Other languages known: Gaelic, some Latin

Style of speaking: poised most of the time, depends on situation

Volume of voice: average

Physical Appearence

Faceclaim: Andy Biersack

Height: 6'2

Weight: 140 lb

Eye colour: Blue

Skin colour: pale

Shape of face: angular

Distinguishing features: eyes, cheekbones

Build of body: skinny but muscular

Hair colour: usually either white, black or lavender

Hair style: longer, to his cheekbones

Complexion: clear

Posture: decent if not over confident usually

Tattoos: several along his arms and on either side of his neck and down his ribs

Piercings: lip piercings, with several ear piercings and two eye brow piercings on the left side 

Typical clothing: suits during the night, otherwise wears pastel lavender and black, usually pastel goth when not working

Is seen by others as: intimidating, bold, confident, mysterious, carefree

Personality

Likes: the manor, morbid things, bones, the mausoleum under the willow tree behind the manor, farther away from the rest

Dislikes: drugs, abusers, pain, touch

Education: high school

Fears: demons, hallucinations, being held onto

Personal goals: To help others heal

General attitude: welcoming, patient, kind

Religious values: pagan

General intelligence: high

General sociability: low to moderate

Health

Illnesses (if any):

drug addiction

mild hallucinations

insomnia

anxiety

depression

PTSD

Allergies (if any):

Sleeping habits: horrible. Looks like he hasn’t slept in centuries

Energy level: moderate

Eating habits: used to struggle with eating

Memory: shockingly good

Any unhealthy habits: vaping, workaholic

History

Birth country: Ireland

Hometown: Dublin

Childhood: Really well, even if his mother struggled immensely

Teen years: tumultuous, his bio dad coming back into his life got him into drugs

Adult years: after losing his crush and four others, he ran away to Louisianna

Past places of residence: Ireland, LA

History of family: comes from a long line of witches, grandfather is Death

Relationships

Parents: Valdis Kemp-Obitus(mother), Vincent Renner(father), Annaline Kemp(great grandmother), Mortem Obitus(grandfather),

Siblings: none

Any enemies (and why): none

Children: none

Friends: Church/Rowan, Zera

Best friend(s): Ace (hiddcnself)

Important friends/relatives (explain):

Love interest (if there is one):

Combat

Peaceful or violent: depends on the situation

Weapon (if applicable): cane

Style of fighting: dirty street fighting

Others

Occupation: Ghost Host

Current home: Hannigan-Kemp Manor

Favourite types of food: sugar

Favourite types of drink: cherry soda

Hobbies/past times: cooking and baking, exploring the house

Guilty pleasures: drawing and listening to stupid podcasts

Pet peeves: loudness, interruptions

Pets: Church(???)

Talents: Singing, art, really good at lying

Favourite colours: lavender and black

Favourite type of music: punk, metal and classical

Biography

Corbin grew up in Ireland, with a mom who worked as a Dominatrix at a sex club. He grew up in the club, knowing the business and learned about safe sex, and what wasn’t okay, which was beneficial when they moved to LA when his dad finally decided to be in his life. It was hard the transition from Ireland to LA, and he got pulled into the wrong crowd pretty quickly. His dad wasn’t in his life for long though. 

His mother inherited HK Manor when he was seventeen from his great grandmother. A few years later, while on a particularly bad trip, he watched his crush and four of his friends summoned demons while high. He held onto his crush trying to keep him from going to hell. Corbin had to watch as he unknowingly sped up his crush’s life. He watched and felt his crush’s life be drained from him, as his skin wrinkled and greyed and his eyes faded, turning to bone and to dust. 

After the event he fled to Louisianna, and put his entire heart and soul into restoring the manor. Though when he turned twenty-five his body started failing him and he kept it quiet until he was visited by Mortem who offered him the job of ghost host when he was ready, once he had his affairs in order.

He believes he is dead now, but his body is in stasis tied to the house, fed by his uncle every few weeks through his own life force.