#it made me feel ashamed of my potential attraction to men. to the point where when someone i was dating realized they were a trans dude

[orcelito]

ok ykno what I think the general online atmosphere re: Attraction To Men is very horrible & stunting. I've realized recently that I probably do have some internalized biphobia that was a big motivator for why I identified with the word gay despite not Really having a gender preference. & yea I still identify with gay but also maybe I kinda identify with bi too. Bc my gender is fluid and it really just depends on the day, but overall I am potentially attracted to men too and that doesn't take away from my non-straight identity, & it's not Unfortunate or anything either.

Yes, I'm scared of men I don't know. I'm fucking Terrified of them. But men are still just human fucking people, with as much potential for good as anyone else. The masses of people who are all like "eww who even likes men lol" or ppl feeling ashamed for liking men, like. What's the fucking point? You're making trans men feel awful, you're making gay men feel awful, & hell even cis straight men don't deserve to be put down all the time simply for being men.

So sick of all those people who Genuinely think that's okay. Like lmao get the fuck out of here.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

This Needs To Stop.

Trigger warning: Sensitive topics, p*dopilia, grooming, mental health and r*cism. 

Ok so this is a bit of a rant so apologies for that, I usually try to stay away from sensitive or controversial topics but this is something that I am passionate about and that I think is important. Also I just want to say that I am in no way directing this to the entirety of the M*lina fandom, I know most are just enjoying their ship, but there are those few who are deliberately seeking out darklina posts or are cross tagging and coming into darklina’s asks and just generally harassing the fandom which sadly I am seeing happen more and more often. Also I do feel like this can apply to all fandoms not just exclusively shadow and bone/ grishaverse, its just this is the one I am experiencing it in right now.   

I’ve seen antis call darkling/darklina fans many problematic things, delusional, mentally ill, ab*se apologists. They also like throwing around words like grooming and p*dophile. The thing that makes me angry about this is that they are taking sensitive topics, topics that many users have been effected by and they are using them to attack shippers merely for liking a character or ship that they don’t. What is even more frustrating is they seem to be throwing these words around without evening fully understanding what they even mean. For example the claim that the Darkling is a p*dophile because Alina is only 17 in the books. Well p*dophilia is a psychiatric disorder where adults are attracted to children and in order for it to be classed as p*dophilia the child involved has to be 13 or younger. A 16 year old can be diagnosed as a p*dophile if they become attracted to a child that is five years or more younger than them. So the relationship between the Darkling and Alina does not meet the criteria to be categorised this way as Alina is over the age of 13. As for it being a case of Alina is underaged, well, for one that depends on where in the world you are. This is based on imperial russia, in russia the age of consent is 16. This means that a 16 year old can have a sexual relationship with a 30 year old, a 70 year old or a 500 year old immortal and in a court of law it is still legal, whatever your own moral issues around age gaps might be. Even then it can be argued that it is irrelevant because, as with most historical literature where young girls marry older men, you cannot put modern day concepts onto them. Like I said this story is based on Imperial Russia, the life expectancy of a person in that time was around 30 years old. That means a 15 year old girl is already half way through her life, she is literally middle aged. It is at this point usually that girls started to prepare to get married and have children and yes sometimes it was to an older man because men were expected to provide for their wife and family which means having a house and job and means to support a family which an older man was more likely to have. My point is a 15-17 year old in say Imperial Russia is not the same as a 15-17 year old in modern day therefore you can’t take modern day laws and morals and place them onto that situation, it doesn’t work, they lived completely different lives. In Alina’s world, she is at the age where girls might get married and her being courted by a man of the general’s status would have been a normal occurrence, for her to have caught the attention of someone with his standing would have been considered very advantageous for her. I mean she literally gets two marriage proposals in book 2, where I believe she is still 17, and Nikolai is talking about how if she marries him it’ll be in name only and they can make Mal her guard so she can do the horizontal tango with him whenever she feels like it, so clearly the characters themselves feel like Alina is at an age where she can, one get married, and two be engaging in a sexual relationship. 

So why does all of this matter? Well it matters because people reading these posts, asks and comments left on posts, may be victims of p*dophilia and grooming. A lot of these comments don’t have trigger warnings and when you are talking about sensitive and triggering topics like this you need to be careful and when you are talking about them without even really understanding them, and where they can’t apply to the characters you are talking about anyway, then you are potentially triggering someone needlessly because you didn’t need to be talking about it in the first place, I hope I am making sense there. I am not saying don’t talk about these subjects if you do think they are relevant, I am saying make sure you do the research, that you understand the subject you are addressing and when you do talk about it do it in a respectful manner, don’t throw it out there in an angry spew accompanied by alot of other derogatory words because that won’t help anyone.     

Another subject I want to talk about is I am also seeing a lot of posts about how darklinas must be delusional or mentally unwell. This, again, is hurtful and harmful. Mental illness for a very long time has had a stigma around it, one that makes the person suffering from it feel weak and ashamed. There was always the attitude of if you are mentally ill then there is something wrong with you, or the attitude of oh just get over it, cheer up, think a different way. But mental illness isn’t just a state of emotion its often caused by hormonal imbalances and chemicals. Genetics can also play a part. There is nothing wrong with someone who is mentally ill their brain is just wired a different way. I also find it problematic when people throw around the word delusional. Maybe its nothing to you, just a word, but alot of mental illnesses have actual delusions as one of their symptoms. These can be scary and upsetting and are outside the control of the person experiencing them. Making the suggestion that liking a particular ships means you are delusional is potentially very triggering to those who do battle delusions and have fought to overcome them. The stigma around mental illness has prevented alot of people suffering from mental illness from seeking help out of shame or embarrassment or even out of fear of being judged and although I do feel like as a society we’ve become alot more open about mental health and alot more accepting there is still a long way to go. When antis start saying things like ‘I can’t believe people ship this, they must be mentally ill,’ or ‘they must be sick in the head’, or ‘if you like this ship than you must be delusional’ not only are they being incredibly prejudice against people who have mental illnesses but it is also so harmful because if there is someone reading that post who is struggling with their mental health and are considering seeking help then you’ve just made them feel more ashamed, more like there is something wrong with them which will make them even less likely to seek out help and as I said before there isn’t anything wrong with a person who has a mental health condition they are just different from you. That doesn’t give you the right to make them feel like they are less capable of deciding what they do or do not like or even what they should or should not like to be classified as a ‘normal’ person. 

The most latest problematic statements I’ve seen have been those accusing Darklina’s of being r*cist. This one I found a bit funny in a it’s not funny kind of way. I just don’t think there is much logic behind this view point. I’m not sure I understand the antis reasoning here. Mostly because I’m pretty sure the majority of the Darklina fandom comes from the books where Mal is described as being a white, brown haired, blue eyed guy. Funnily enough the Darkling is described as being able to pass for Shu, though to be clear it isn’t confirmed that he is a POC, but out of the two in the books the Darkling is more likely to be a POC than Mal. On top of that whilst many darklina fans have made it clear they are not a fan of Mal in the books many have said they like the show version of Mal who, as we all know, the actor Archie is a POC. So by anti logic darklinas are all r*cist because they don’t like book Mal who is depicted as white but we do like show Mal who is a POC. It just doesn’t make sense to me. I do understand that there were some ‘fans’ who made inappropriate and r*cist comments to some cast members including Archie and I would never ever condone that no matter who I ship. But you also can’t condemn an entire fandom just because of the actions of a select few. I don’t judge all M*linas for that one fan who accused Ben of being a pr*dator and p*dophile because of his friendship with Jessie. Once again my point is r*cism is a serious topic and not something someone should use as a retort or comeback to someone not shipping your ship. When we use these words casually it makes it less likely that they’ll be taking seriously when they really do need to be taken seriously, when they really are relevant to what is happening. If we keep using them so casually then when we really do need to talk about them, when it really matters, people will just shrug and go ‘its just antis being antis.’ 

I think it is possible for people to like different things, to debate and analyse different relationships and characters and talk about what flaws they may have in a respectful manner. I wouldn’t say I am anti m*lina but at the same time there are things about them that I find problematic but when I talk about those things I hope I do so in a way that doesn’t demean those who do like the ship. I understand that people will have a different interpretation than me and whilst I might not understand where their thinking comes from or why they have a particular opinion I would never make the assumption that they are mentally unwell or make judgements on their character or morals. I try to think about the words I am writing. I know how easy it can be to just throw a word out there without thinking about it. I used to use the word delusional to describe fans of certain ships, but when I recognised how damaging and problematic that was I stopped and I changed my behaviour because it was never my intention to hurt others. I guess the main message I am trying to convey here is we need to be careful with our words they’re not as insignificant as we might think.                

[venmomejoy]

Convince Me- pt. 1

Summary: When Aelin Ashryver-Galathynius, lead singer of Bitch Queen, gets in a twitter fight with Rowan Whitethorn, drummer of The Cadre, everyone is buzzing about their hatred for each other. When their PR teams decide they need to fake a friendship to keep up a good public image, the two are vehemently against it. But slowly, a fake friendship turns into a real connection, maybe something more. 

read it on AO3 here :) and here’s the link to part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven / part twelve / part thirteen

Most celebrities rattled on about how they hated fame, hated all the attention, but Aelin knew that was a load. Sure, there were aspects of fame that could be frustrating, but not one of them would trade their careers for a chance to go to the grocery store unnoticed.

She wouldn't, that's for sure. Aelin had worked her ass off for her career, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she was proud of her success. Bitch Queen had started from nothing, and now they had a top-charting album with two number one singles. She reveled every time a fan stopped her in the street, every time someone asked to take a photo with her, because she had worked for every ounce of fame she had, and they had finally made it.

Aelin hadn't even planned on being in a band. She'd always been a good singer, a raw talent her parents had fostered from her childhood, but she'd never intended on doing anything with it. But when her best friend started learning the guitar she begged Aelin to do some duets with her, and Lysandra was a tough person to deny. So they would mess around with different arrangements, would butcher their favorite songs, until one day, it sounded good. Really good.

They started practicing more seriously then, and by their senior year of high school, they had really honed their skills. Lysandra's fingers danced along the strings with ease, rarely making a mistake, and Aelin had enrolled in singing lessons to refine her ability. She even tried her hand at songwriting, and after a year of failed attempts, finally produced something passable.

They roomed together in college, Aelin majoring in Business, as she planned on following in her mother's footsteps and running Ashryver Inc., while Lysandra chose psychology, since she intended on going into social work. They spent any free moment composing and playing and videoing their songs, but they still hadn't decided to do anything with their newfound skills. But somehow, everything fell into place.

Aelin found their keyboard player when she bumped into a childhood friend on campus. She hadn't seen Elide since elementary school, when she had moved to New York to live with her uncle after her mother's death, but college had brought her back to California, and Aelin was eager to rekindle their friendship. The girls became close quickly, old bonds quickly reinstated, and when she told Elide about her and Lysandra's little duo, Elide told her that she was currently enrolled in the school's music program, and had been training on the keys for years. Aelin insisted she play with them, just for fun, but Elide was hesitant- she had grown very shy in their years apart. Elide eventually agreed, but only if she could invite her roommate, Manon, who played the drums.

Aelin easily agreed. She was happy to find one new person to play with, not to mention two.

The next afternoon, Elide let them into the music hall, taking them to one of the many rehearsal rooms in the building. Inside, a silver-haired girl was adjusting the height of her drummer's throne, flashing them an assessing glare as they entered. Lysandra immediately darted towards the rack of guitars on the wall, running her hands over the glossy wood in wonder. But Aelin didn't have any fancy instruments to fawn over- mics were mics- so she scanned the area, taking in the sheer amount of instruments in that one room. She didn't know what kind of funding this school had, if every rehearsal room was stocked like this.

Manon stalked over to them, using her height to her advantage as she stared down at Aelin. She could see why people thought Manon was intimidating, with her blood-red lips that curled into a smirk and her metallic painted nails, so long they were basically claws. Aelin just looked up at Manon, a slow smile spreading across her face as she extended her hand. "Aelin Ashryver-Galathynius." Aelin respected the effort at intimidation, but hoped Manon didn't think she would be able to cow her. Aelin actually really wanted to be her friend- she loved a girl who would get shit done- but she had too much self-respect, and maybe too much pride, to let herself get steamrolled by this girl.

Manon raised an eyebrow at Aelin's gall, her smirk turning into a proper smile. She probably wasn't used to meeting her match, but she didn't seem unhappy about it. "Manon Blackbeak," she said, grasping Aelin's hand firmly. "Elide said you sing?"

"Yeah, and my roommate Lysandra," she pointed at Lys, "plays guitar."

Flipping her silver hair over her shoulder with a curt nod, Manon said, "Well, let's get started. No point wasting more time than we need too."

Aelin frowned at her pessimism, but they all got into position, Lysandra widening her eyes dramatically at her roommate when the other's backs were turned. They all toyed with their instruments, tuning them while Aelin warmed up her voice, before deciding on a song they all knew. The first couple tries were rough, but eventually they got a feel for each other's style and techniques and the song really came together. It was far from perfect, but it had potential.

Surprisingly enough, it was Manon who suggested they start practicing seriously, as a band. The girls had been shocked at the suggestion, but quickly agreed. What did they have to lose? Maybe something would come of it, but even if nothing did, they all loved music, so there was no time and energy wasted. They compared schedules and found a time they could meet every day.

They started with covers, getting the hang of playing together and making their sounds blend seamlessly, before moving on to original tracks. Lysandra and Aelin started looking into gigs, and when it came time for them to pick a name, Aelin had the perfect one. Bitch Queen, the nickname given to her courtesy of her entire high school student body; she had loved it then and she loved it now. The girls loved it too.

They played gigs all throughout college, becoming regulars at small venues, even scoring Friday night spots at a couple bars and clubs. When someone posted a video of their set on YouTube, everything went nuts, and suddenly they had offers from twenty different labels. Everything after that was a blur: signing the contract with Terrasen Records, dropping their first singles, writing their first album, recording their music videos. In just over a year, they had become one of the biggest names in indie rock.

It was while they were recording at the studio that they met the men of The Cadre. Their lead singer, Fenrys, had popped his golden head into their recording room in the middle of a set, scaring the living shit out of Lysandra and ruining the take, but he just laughed and said, "The boss told us the label was getting a new group, but didn't expect them all to be so pretty," with an exaggerated wink. They all just rolled their eyes and laughed at his come-on, except for Manon, who snarled at him. Fenrys had the good sense to look nervous at that, but he quickly recovered, sticking his hand out to all of them. "I'm Fenrys, lead singer in The Cadre. These are the guys," he said, gesturing behind him to where three other men had slipped into the room, looking much more uncomfortable than their friend. Aelin's eyes scanned the guys, thoroughly impressed by the sheer size of them. They had to be the most muscular men she had ever seen, and all unfairly attractive.

"This is Gavriel, our guitarist," Fenrys said, gesturing to the other blond in the group, who flashed them all a small smile.

"Next to him is our bassist, Lorcan." Lorcan's long black hair shone as he pulled it up into a ponytail, barely sparing them a glance before turning away. Aelin smiled to herself when his eyes shot back up and went straight to Elide, but the moment only lasted a few seconds before Lorcan schooled his features and dropped his gaze.

Chuckling to herself, her eyes caught on the white-haired man towards the back, his toned arms crossed over his chest. "Lastly, we have Rowan Whitethorn, our drummer." He had a wicked tattoo stretching down the side of his face and onto his torso, judging by the way it disappeared into his turtleneck. When she dragged her eyes back up to his face, she found his eyes already on her, though he didn't seem to be appreciating the view the way she was. No, he was sneering at her, looking at her like she was the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. Aelin blinked at him, as much surprise as she would show, before drawing her eyebrows in and fixing him with a glare of her own. She had just met the man. How could he already hate her? Aelin snapped her gaze away from him, briefly introducing her friends to the men.

The two bands ended up spending a lot of time together, since both groups happened to be in the recording process at the same time. Aelin and Fenrys became fast friends- their personalities were too similar for them not to get along. But they weren't the only one's getting close. Anytime the bands met up or had lunch together, Elide and Lorcan always wound up next to each other, practically ignoring everyone else as they listened to each other in rapt attention. No one was surprised when the two announced they were dating later that month; everyone had seen that one coming from a mile away. The girls were thrilled for their friend- even though Lorcan was a raging bastard to all of them, he seemed really good to Elide. And both Manon and Aelin didn't refrain from detailing exactly what they would do to him if he hurt her. He only gave them an unimpressed look.

Aelin managed to become decent friends with Gavriel, his soft-spoken demeanor giving into wicked humor once he got comfortable. She tried, several times, to speak to Rowan, but every single time he met her friendliness with hostility, barking insults at her that hurt more than she was willing to admit. She hurled insults of her own in response, but after a while, she gave up trying to get Rowan to warm up to her. Whatever she had done to make him hate her, there was obviously no way for her to undo it, so she decided to just leave it be.

They all kept in touch after they finished recording, attending the same events and even going out to dinner together. Bitch Queen's album was a smash hit, and The Cadre's third album was pretty popular as well. They met up for congratulatory drinks after both albums had dropped, toasting to new music and new friends.  

Now, Bitch Queen was prepping to go on tour in two months, and Aelin was lying if she said she wasn't freaking out. Playing their little shows when they were unknown was one thing, but an entire tour of sold out venues? She knew they were good, was confident in the songs she had written and in her own vocal ability, but she just didn't want to let anyone down.

Aelin couldn't help that she channeled her nervousness into aggression. And it was Rowan's fault for tweeting that shit, anyway.

She had tweeted a picture of their tour dates with the caption: "20 shows!! I'm crazy nervous but crazy excited to see you all!!"

To which Rowan replied: "we've got 35 shows, and I'm not nervous at all."

It wasn't really that big of a deal, but it made Aelin's blood boil. Was he insinuating that she was less professional than him because she was nervous? For her first tour ever? And of course The Cadre had more shows than them, this was their third studio album, they already have a fanbase. What was Bitch Queen supposed to do, become The Strokes after their first single?

Aelin couldn't help herself: "Maybe if you played anything difficult, you would be. Manon could play your parts in her sleep."

The response came in minutes: "No, experience just makes you more composed. Maybe you'd know if you had some."

She was seething. Was he calling her an amateur?: "I think nerves make me a better performer; it means I care about the quality of the show I give my fans. I won't disappoint them because of my own arrogance."

Rowan replied: "Fans? What fans? Your 8,000 streams on Spotify?"

Aelin was going to murder him: "Try 800,000. If I recall correctly, your band's debut album didn't do near as good as ours. Watch yourself."

Rowan: "Ooh, you've really scared me now."

Aelin's phone rang before she could finish her response, her PR manager interrupting her tirade. She tried to cool her anger before she answered the phone, but she still snapped, "What?" into the receiver.

"Aelin! What the hell are you doing?"

"Hey, don't look at me, Rowan started this. I'm just defending myself."

"Well, stop. Christ, Aelin, Twitter's having a field day with this. You and Rowan are going to be the main story in every tabloid by tomorrow morning. Everyone's talking about your hatred for one another."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter."

"It does matter, Aelin. This not only makes you look trashy, which is especially bad for an up-and-coming band like yours, it also reflects poorly on the label to have two of its artists fighting on a public domain."

Aelin deflated. She didn't even think of it like that. "Okay, what do we do?"

"You don't do anything. I'm emailing with The Cadre's PR manager right now. We're going to have to meet in person to work out the logistics, but you and Rowan are going to have to make everyone think you're friends."

"What?" She and Rowan have not had one pleasant interaction. She doubts anyone would buy that they were friends.

"You can't take back what you've already said, so we're going to have to twist it like you two were joking around. But we can't stop there, people will think its just a ploy."

"Which it is."

"Yes, but they don't need to know that. So we're going to have to sell that you two have been really close friends ever since you started working at Terrasen Labels. That means hanging out one-on-one in public, posting photos together on social media, doing whatever you have to do to make this believable." She sighed. "Look, I'll update you tomorrow on what the plan is, but for now, just stay quiet, okay? No more social media posts."

Alien could practically hear her rubbing her temples through the phone. "Got it. For what it’s worth, I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep," she said before hanging up the phone.

Aelin tried to sleep, but she couldn't stop thinking about how they were going to pull this off. Rowan was a prick; there was no way she convincingly act like she enjoys spending time with him. She wouldn't be surprised if he outright refused the plan their PR teams had created, what with his egotism. Stardom really went to his head.

Aelin imagined going out to get coffee with Rowan Whitethorn for all of one second before she smashed her pillow on top of her face and turned her brain off for the night. She would deal with all of this in the morning.

notes: ahhh I'm actually really excited for this fic, so I hope you guys have some interest in it!! let me know what you think or if you would like to be tagged!

[aquvmarines]

[ MASON GOODING, CIS MALE, HE/HIM ] shh ! CAMERON “MACK” MCKINLEY, the TWENTY year old SECOND year BUSINESS major from EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND, is known as an AQUAMARINE around here. HE was invited to join because HE IS BEST FRIENDS WITH HIS OPAL, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE SMELL OF FRESH BAKED COOKIES, WARM HUGS, LAUGHING UNTIL YOUR STOMACH HURTS.

ok so i THINK i have all of the necessary info in here and it’s STILL like.. way too long 🙄 can someone PLEASE tell this bitch (me) to shut up?? but in case you all want to read even MORE for some reason... here is my app!! 

background

his dad comes from a long line of attorneys. his family owns a huge law firm and they’re old money! his mom was a caterer at an event when they met. they fell in love but his family never liked her because she was from a lower class and didn’t fit in.

being a housewife/being of a different class/already having deep-seated insecurity issues and a temper got to his mom. she convinced herself her husband was having affairs and started to pick really nasty fights. these fights scarred young mack and made him into the conflict averse people pleaser he is today!

his go-to method of diffusing tension and stopping fights is humor! king WILL make a joke in any situation to try and distract people from whatever they were arguing about. he does have other conflict resolution skills or whatever and will try and get people to compromise or like see the other side or something these just will not be his first reaction!

there was an instance where he realized he inherited his mother’s jealous streak. he’s ashamed of it and overcorrects so he doesn’t ruin anything by being possessive. 

mckinley men go to strathmore 😤 and yes mack only got in because he’s a legacy and money has been donated to guarantee mckinley men go to strathmore! mack knows this and is kinda like eh whatever! 

he’s majoring in business because if he was an attorney he would immediately roll over and concede whatever the opposing party wanted but there’s room for him in the financial department of mckinley & sons. 

but he really has no interest in business or being a financial guy.. like he’ll do it because it’s what his family wants. his passion is in baking :D he would like to be a pastry chef with his own bakery, or a cooking show, he’d take either! but he thinks that would be a waste of his family’s resources :( 

personality

for a long time, mack was the boy that got “...but he has a great personality.” which to be fair, he does. it’s easy to look at him and point to a number of admirable traits — kind, funny, patient — but he was a late bloomer looks wise and that left him a little bit scarred. much like his mother, the sinking suspicion that he’ll never be good enough haunts him. this isn’t something that’s easy to pick up on, as he presents himself with an air of easy confidence, but it’s there. 

mack is a flirt. once he grew into his looks, he couldn’t help himself. mainly, he likes the banter that comes with flirting; the witty back and forth. both the ego boost he gets from feeling desired and the opportunity to make someone else feel just as good are big fun to him.

that being said, he’s not so easy and fun once things get any more serious than casual flirtation. worried about coming across as possessive, he overcorrects and often he turns something with potential into nothing. in general, he struggles with managing the difference between playing it cool and seeming indifferent, even if the reality is he’s very much invested and cares a lot.  

he’s a very grounded presence. yes, he’s goofy and sometimes annoyingly positive, but i think his optimism would remind people not to take life too seriously, that problems aren’t as big and insurmountable as they might seem, and i think that bringing people back to the moment and encouraging them to stop stressing is grounding and reassuring. 

like, yes, he’s an optimist, but he’s not a delusional optimist. he can pick out the good that exists in any situation and remind you of that, he doesn't bury his head in the sand and feed himself and others fantasies, you know? the bigger picture he paints is a bright one, but it’s not one that could never exist. 

but i also don’t think it would be unreasonable for people to read him as delusional. especially someone more pessimistic or colder! 

he is everyone’s cheerleader. he’s very supportive and always up to do things, so if there’s someone that needs a companion for anything, he’s definitely the person to turn to

i outlined how he fits in with all the aquamarine traits on my app if you want some more details for any reason KFLWJELFK

headcanons

he chooses to believe in the loch ness monster, please don’t talk about nessie like she’s not real in front of him. 

going out first year was a blur of drunken one night stands, all to prove something that no one had asked him to prove; that he was attractive, that he could pull, that he wasn’t pathetic. the irony of course, being that his motivations were pathetic. somewhere along the way he grew out of it and slowed down; recognizing that no one was paying attention and it wasn’t making him feel any better, but he still has trouble resisting the ego high of a someone beautiful’s attention.

once lasted just under five minutes on a mechanical bull. to this day, it’s one of his proudest accomplishments. 

in his spare time, he volunteers in the kitchen at a hospital. it’s cooking, not baking, but it does the trick. 

during his first year, some of his friends discovered that they could all play different instruments, and naturally, that meant they had to form a band. mack was their frontman, not for any outstanding musical talent, but because no one else would do it! he has a nice enough voice, and could charm a crowd, but it’s not some previously unknown talent. he was just the one his friends knew they could ask.. they ultimately disbanded, citing “creative differences” to anyone who asked, but really, they just got bored of playing the very few songs that they all knew.

i have some wanted connections on my app but i’m really open to anything!! pls come hmu to plot i love all of you 🥺

[yourwakingnightmares]

quoting you "But our brains are hardwired to find certain things attractive." and you said it on a post when you trying to talk about why people prefer white characters. not hard to figure out what you were saying there, i have reading comprehension (and a not-american education, your assumption was weird). also, here have this not on anon. not a coward just used to racists who pile on if you call them on it, but i can deal.

Dear sir and/or ma’am,

Firstly, kudos! I’m glad we can have an actual conversation without hiding behind anonymity. Still not sure how productive of a conversation we’re going to have, since you’re insistent I’m racist, but I’m now willing to discuss it with you further since we can have an open conversation and dialogue.

No, I did not say that people were hardwired to find white people attractive. I said our brains are weird; that they’re hardwired to find certain things attractive, and -the important bit you missed -is that there’s no rhyme nor reason to why.

For example, to get a bit personal here. I like short, stocky men, and I have a thing for big/abnormal shaped noses on men. Richard Harmon, Seth Gilliam, and Aaron Stanford are examples of this. In women, I like well-muscled and taller than me (which doesn’t take much, I’m 5′2″). Examples of this would include Marie Avgeropoulos, Rosario Dawson, and Lupita Nyong’o.

Now, clearly, I have two very different and distinct things I look for, depending on gender. This makes no sense, logically, and I am well aware of this; if I like large or abnormal shaped noses on men, I should like the same thing on women, logically. If I like short, stocky men, I should like the same thing in women.

But I don’t. Why don’t I? Because what we like isn’t something that we choose; it’s not something that we make a conscious decision about. Our brains are hardwired to find certain things attractive, and we don’t know why. We don’t know what crossed this particular pair of wires together, resulting in liking short men or tall women. We don’t know how those neurons in our brains got so jumbled that we have foot fetishes, or are into dominance play.

Telling people that they are racist because they don’t find a thing attractive is redundant, and can be turned against you very, very easily.

For example. Do you like fat men? Short women? Bald women? Amputees? No? Well, that makes you ableist and sexist! 

Do you have any straight pairings? That makes you homophobic! And don’t even get me started on how screwed over us bi folk get when it comes to fandom shipping; we can’t win either way: because it’s not gay pairings, we’re labeled homophobic, and if it’s gay pairings, we’re labeled as attention seekers, for ‘calling ourselves bi when we’re actually gay’.

Are you starting to see where I’m going with this? You have a thing you like. I’m ambivalent about the thing, or maybe even I actively dislike the thing. Instead of accepting that, you decide to label me as racist.

Let’s say you like purple. Purple is a mixture of red and blue. You love purple, it’s your favorite color. I, however, do not like purple. I prefer orange, and believe that red should be mixed with yellow for the best results.

Am I horrible person for disagreeing with you? Am I bad because I like my red mixed with yellow instead of blue?

(Also, please bear in mind, I don’t see colors well, so this example might not be entirely accurate with the mixing, but I’m hoping your getting my point beyond that).

Let’s use another example here. In the Umbrella Academy, one of the most popular pairings is Luther and Allison. Well, how would you feel if I said that you’re racist for shipping Allison with a white man? As a minority woman, she should only be with other minorities! Therefore, she must be with Diego!

You’d say I’m nuts; clearly, Allison and Diego would be terrible for each other. They’re both very strong-willed, stubborn people with serious attitude problems. But hey, I like the Allison/Diego pairing. I think they’d go well together. I like the bad boy vibes, and Allison is strong enough to tell Diego where to shove it when he starts getting angsty and sarcastic. It could work! 

Let’s go a step further. I ship Diego and Vanya; I think they look absolutely adorable together. On an emotional level, they’re all wrong for each other, and I understand that. But physically? Hell, I dig it. I’d dig it a trench a mile deep. I don’t know why I find them to be so cute together, but I just do.

However, I logically understand that Vanya is gay -or bi, potentially, I’m sure we’ll get that hammered out sooner or later in the show. And I completely accept that character’s decision to be with Sissy. But the two of them together just don’t do it for me. I look at them as a couple and go, ‘meh’. It doesn’t evoke any feeling in me. But that one scene at the end of the last episode, where Vanya just rests her head against Diego, and after a moment, he returns the gesture? That gave me chills. And I decided right then and there, I would die with that ship. Because it made me feel good and happy, and gave me those butterflies floating in my stomach.

Do you pick your partners based off of what you think society wants you to like? I sincerely hope you don’t, and instead follow your heart. I hope you pick your partners or your ships based off of what makes you happy as a person. What makes you get those butterflies, of what gives you chills when you think of them together.

Shipping in fandom is the same. If you’re shipping people based off of what other people tell you you should like, or what you think is socially acceptable to like... You won’t get those butterflies. You won’t get those chills. You won’t get that stupid little grin when you think of the cute shenanigans your pairing gets up to. It will be wooden, mechanical, and soulless. There’s no heart in it, because you’re not shipping what you like... you’re shipping what you think you should like.

Biology doesn’t work like that. Know that whole thing where everybody kept telling gay people not to be gay? To force themselves to be with the opposite gender?

You and I know -hopefully you know, anyways -that that is absolutely stupid. Being gay isn’t a choice; it’s just something you are. As Lady Gaga so aptly put it years ago, we’re just born that way. We like what we like, and telling us to try and be different is not only pointless, but it’s hateful. It’s hurtful. But many large groups -mostly Christian, and/or conservative -insisted that you could just choose to not be gay. You could choose to like the opposite gender, and by not choosing that, you were going straight to hell. 

But this is exactly what you're trying to do with shipping. You are taking the part of the Moral Majority and Jerry Falwell here. You are the one telling people that what they like is wrong! They should just like what you like! If they don’t, they’re terrible bad awful people who should be ashamed of themselves! The Christians/conservatives called them amoral degenerates; you’re calling them hateful racists. But the end result is the same: you’re trying to shame and humiliate anyone who disagrees with you.

Now, I’m not going to make any presumptions about what you like; I don’t know you well enough for that. Maybe you dig interracial couples; maybe you dig gay couples. Maybe you like disabled couples, or dominant/submissive couples.

But whatever it is that you like, or what gets you hot and bothered? I wouldn’t dream of telling you it’s wrong. As long as you keep your IRL stuff consensual? It’s not my place to tell you what you can like. It’s not my place to tell you that your ideas of cute couples are wrong.

More and more lately, I find many fandom shippers using the idea of an ‘ism’ to try and force people to accept their pairing. Whether it’s racism, sexism, homophobia, ageism, classism, ableism... Everybody can throw an ‘ism’ at people who dislike their pairings. It’s relatively easy to do, in fact. Give me any popular pairing, and I can throw an ‘ism’ at it.

Sorry I refuse to be browbeaten into saying that your pairing is more valid than mine. Sorry that I won’t let you bully me into going along with your pairing, and leaving my own by the wayside. Sorry I won’t bow to your threats of calling me mean things to force me to like your ships. Sorry I won’t just sit meekly back, and let you dictate what I’m allowed to find cute, or attractive, or sexy, or hot.

Actually, you know what? No. I’m not sorry. You can try to browbeat me. You can try to bully me. You can try to make me capitulate. You can try and make me sit quietly and not have an opinion.

But it ain’t gonna work. You misconstruing my argument, reading what you want to read in it, cherry picking your way through, or you calling me a racist, sexist, homophobic meanie head isn’t going to force me to root for your ship.

If I find a straight ship cute? I’ll ship it. If I find a gay ship cute? I’ll ship it. If I find a bi ship cute? I’ll ship it. If I find an interracial ship cute? I’ll ship it. If I find a intraracial ship cute? I’ll ship it. If I find a disabled/abled ship cute? I’ll ship it.

I will ship what I ship, and no amount of you throwing stones is going to force me to abandon my ship.

[msjr0119]

One night in New York

This one shot is linked to my series ‘Forgive me’.. Riley managed to save Leo, the first few paragraphs are the same as the ‘Forgive Me’ introduction.

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @beardedoafdonutwagon

*****

Liam Rhys the Crown prince of Cordonia, had hesitantly agreed to his friends plans about visiting New York for his bachelor party. His brother, the former Crown Prince had recently moved to New York but Liam hadn’t kept in touch with him. They were close as children, but since his abdication they became more like strangers. Leo returned to Cordonia as and when he liked. Drake walker had chosen quite possibly the most run down dive bar he could find to start the nights events off.

“Welcome to the states, your highness. Nothing beats alcohol and greasy food...”

Liam sighed, he didn’t even want to be here- he didn’t even want to be the prince anymore. If his paths crossed with his older brother he could quite easily throttle the playboy who thought more about his dick than his royal responsibilities.

Walking through the doors, this really was a dive bar- it was empty and quiet. The bar stools looked as if they would potentially snap if you lent on it, covered in dust.

“Where’s the music?” Exclaimed Max feeling disappointed- he loved music and to dance. This place felt like they were in a morgue.

“Forget the music! Waiter!” Drake clicked his fingers. The waiter ambled up towards the men forcing a fake smile.

“Yes Sir. What can I get ya?”

“Four deluxe burgers and a bottle of whiskey.”

“Yes sir, my colleague will bring your drinks shortly as I have finished my shift.”

*****

The men looked over at the waiting staff, the waiter that had taken their original order was just leaving- he kissed a girl on the cheek before he left. The four men’s eyes all fixated on the beautiful goddess stood in front of them.

Smirking at the four men, she knew she was ready to play games after the text she had just received.

“Liam it’s so good to see you!” She shrieked with an enthusiastic tone of voice.

“Do I know you?” The colour drained from his face, thinking of the worse possible ways a waitress could know him.

“Have you forgotten me already? Shame on you!” She placed a comforting arm on him, before running her delicate hand through his blonde locks.

The three men looked bewildered, Liam swallowed hard. He felt his dick twinge with every movement she made. Swallowing hard he had to remove her away from him in a polite manner.

“I’m really sorry, I don’t know you.” Shaking her head, she looked disappointed. She needed to keep up this game- his face was too hilarious to give in now.

“How could you forget about this diamond stood in front of us Li? I’m Maxwell.”

“I know Max. How’s Bertrand? Is he still all stern looking wearing his infamous vests?” Maxwell’s jaw was agape, his mind was about to explode- trying to think who this ‘mystery’ woman was.

“You know us?” Drake said whilst smirking, assuming she was a crown chaser and who had stalked Cordonian press.

“Yes, Drake. I assume you are still drinking whiskey and sulking?” Drake looked at his whiskey- wondering if he was hallucinating, or if they had spiked his drink. She described him to a t but he was confused as to who she was.

“Tariq I see you still have exquisite taste in fashion.” Looking at him she did the Italian chef kiss gesture.

“Well Of course I do.” Unlike the others being confused, he was pleased with her observation.

“Well gentlemen, I hope our paths cross again. Enjoy your night! As you are miles away from Cordonia I’d advise that you end your night in Kismet. It’s the most popular club in the city.”

You should have seen their faces! See you at Kismet 😘

*****

The men all entered the SUV, and made their way over to Kismet. Maxwell was in his element, Tariq was disgusted at the sight surrounding him. Liam and Drake were trying to figure out how a mystery woman knew so much about them. Feeling awkward not being in their neck of the woods, they were all about to return to the hotel. Until their eyes laid on the two people who arrived through the door. The man, kissed the woman on the cheek before leaving her at the bar. He made his way over to the four men.

“Well well well, I didn’t think this place was your type of scene little brother.”

“Leo!”

“In the flesh. You really shouldn’t allow Maxwell to confirm your every move on social media. I’d like you to meet someone, someone close to my heart.”

“Hello again, gentlemen.” Riley smirked at them all, still laughing deep down about their first meeting.

“Wow!” Drake and Maxwell said in unison, both couldn’t remove their gaze away from her.

“That uniform wasn’t doing you any justice.” Tariq stated, eyeing her up and down. She was waiting for a comment from Liam- he was just looking bemused, trying to take everything in.

“Liam, I don’t know you. I’m sorry for the shock. Leo asked me to do it. I couldn’t stop laughing at all of your reactions. Leo, I’m just going to see Beth. I’ll be right back.”

“So are you going to explain?” Drake snapped, now Riley was out of view. He didn’t want to give her another stereotypical attitude that she could use against him.

“Don’t have a heart attack Drake! Liam I need to speak to you.” His usual cheeky grin, faded- not knowing how his brother would react to the bombshell he was going to hit his brother with.

“Damn right you do! Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

“Erm... she’s a fake girlfriend. That’s what I want to talk about....” The men all stood waiting for Leo to elaborate.

“Li, the real reason I abdicated.... I... I’m gay. I couldn’t go through living a lie. Then I met Riley, she figured me out straight away. She saved my life- I went through a dark stage of my life, I tried to take my own life. She gave me a way out. A way that I could live my true life.” Liam looked at his older brother with a perplexed expression. Why couldn’t he tell him? He would have supported him. He wouldn’t think any different of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your brother! If I’d have known I wouldn’t hate you as much as I do. But you were always sleeping with different women.”

“It was all an act Li. I didn’t want to be forced into an arranged marriage.”

“So what does Riley gain from all of this? This isn’t fair on her.” Looking over to Riley, she was smiling with her friend- wondering why someone would do something like this for just a friend.

“She knows the deal Li, if she ever finds someone who she wants to settle down with that’s fine. We have already discussed this.”

Riley walked back over to the men with her friend Beth. The men all stood frozen, she knew now that Leo had finally disclosed his secret.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’ve told them Ri.” Riley pulled him in for a hug, her smile showed proudness.

“Good. Don’t you ever feel ashamed for who you really are Leo. Are you ready to go to the gay bar?”

“Of course. Li, it’s been good to see you all.” Pulling his brother into the tightest squeeze, he had hoped that his brother wouldn’t discriminate him. He was still the same person.

“Leo. Wait! We will come with you.”

“Excuse me? I am not setting foot in another place in this disgusting city. I’m going back to the hotel, you coming Max and Drake?”

“Well fuck you then Tariq! Guys a gay bar is fun. Full of shots.... full of music.... full of whiskeyyy... heterosexual people go too.” Riley knew the mention of whiskey and music would sway Drake and Maxwell to go with them.

“I’m in! Drake?” Squealed Maxwell.

“You got me at whiskey Riley.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

****

Maxwell’s eyes lit up, the music was blasting and he soon headed over to the dance floor. Riley went to the bar ordering drinks, talking to the local drag queen Fanny Bacardi- leaving Beth with Liam and Drake.

“Ah look at Leo, he’s in his element.” Beth said pointing towards Leo who had his tongue down an attractive mans throat.

Liam and Drake looked shocked. They couldn’t believe what they was seeing, but they both only wanted Leo to be happy. Riley returned to the table, she looked over to Leo and began to smile. Sitting next to Drake, he was staring vacantly into the whiskey that she had handed him.

“Hey Drake, I’m so sorry I said you was sulky- it’s just the description Leo gave me. Are you really that bad?”

“I can be. But I do smile.... At times.”

Before she could respond her eyes went wide- Liam and Beth were kissing passionately, his hands lingering over her breasts. Drake mimicked the same expression that Riley wore.

“Please don’t leave me, I don’t feel like playing gooseberry. Does she know he’s getting married soon?”

“Of course. Leo’s told us all about Cordonia. What happens in New York stays in New York.”

He smirked at her. This girl’s forte obviously isn’t geography.

“I thought that was the case in Vegas.” Shrugging her shoulders, did it matter? They were in USA still- one phrase could be used anywhere. Once the visitors left New York to return to Cordonia, tonight would just be a distant memory.

“Same old. Do you want a dance?” Drake looked horrified. He didn’t like to dance- he barely knew how to dance, but some part of him wanted to dance to be close to her. Not wanting to show himself up, he just politely shook his head.

“I don’t dance.”

“Let your hair down grump!” She wasn’t giving him a choice, dragging him up to the dance floor, the miserable member of the group could surely leave his whiskey unattended for five minutes.

****

On the dance floor, Drake just stood frozen. He was contemplating returning to playing gooseberry. Riley and Maxwell were having a competition at who could do the best slut drop. Drake swallowed hard, he thought Riley was sexy as hell. Shaking his head he had to think about something else- think of Bastien, that’ll do.

“Come On Drake! Join in!”

Maxwell forced him into Riley. Her hand lingered on his chest. Maxwell witnessed them both just staring at each other as if they were having a stand off- Maxwell felt like becoming matchmaker even if it was for one night. They decided to sit down for a breather- Drake bought a round of drinks. Beth and Liam had eventually put each other down. The friends just laughed at the two blushing. Leo joined them hand in hand with his secret boyfriend Rob- Riley and Beth both jumped up and gave him a tight hug.

“Li, this is my partner Rob. Rob this is my little brother Liam and two closest friends; Drake and Maxwell.” Rob sat down and immediately got on well with the men. They all wanted to know more about the man who brought out the sparkle in Leo’s eyes.

“Ri, I was wondering if you could stay at Beth’s tonight- give me and Rob a bit of alone time.”

“Oh of course. Don’t be making a mess like last time though.” Last time she allowed them to do this, it ended up with smashed glasses everywhere, a broken lampshade, and stains in the carpet. Thinking about last time she shuddered.

“Er Riley. Liam has invited me back to the hotel...” Beth said quietly, whilst holding Liam’s hand.

“Ohhh... I’ll go to Daniels then?” Fuck he lives miles away- the cab fare will cost a bomb.

“He’s at Lola’s.” Beth explained, feeling guilty for ditching her friend. But it’s not every day that a Prince kisses you.

“Oh for fuck sake. Can I have your keys then?” Riley’s eyes pleaded, knowing she was going to get rejected immediately.

“No not after last time. Sorry Ri.” Fuck where am I going tonight?

“Well Riley can go back to the hotel with us... Drake has a double bed.” Maxwell winked at Drake, then at Riley.

“No!” Drake and Riley said in unison.

“Why not? I’d share with you Riley but I’m bunked up with Mr snob.”

“I think it’s a great idea. Myself and Beth, Max and Tariq, Leo and Rob and Drake and Riley. We’re all sorted. Are we ready to call it a night then?” Liam organised the sleeping arrangements, neither wanted to argue- he was the Prince after all.

*****

Both Riley and Drake entered his room, there was a silent awkwardness. Neither having a say in this arrangement. Sitting down at the table, Drake slid her a whiskey over.

“So Leo said you saved his life. Was that because you offered to be a fake girlfriend.”

“Oh no. I literally saved his life. His father wanted him to reconsider the abdication, he felt he had no other way. I returned to the apartment just in time. He had taken lots of pills and booze. He even wrote a goodbye letter. I thought it was a prank at first. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Jesus!”

“I know. That’s why I said if there was any press that would be following him around that I would act as the loving wifey. It was horrible Drake. Traumatising. I still can’t believe he nearly died. If I hadn’t have left work early, he would have taken his own life due to not having the opportunity to be happy and loved.”

“He may be a dick at times, but we all love him. And Constantine is a dick too. He wouldn’t understand Leo’s situation. But surely now Liam is the crown prince the paparazzi have backed off from Leo?”

“That’s just the thing- even though he’s abdicated, he’s still royalty. There’s always someone with a camera- we don’t know why? Hence why Leo asked for some private time in our apartment with Rob. Leo just bought me a cheap tacky ring, in case any press questioned his relationship- I should have worn it tonight but I forgot.”

“It must be hard for you both. It’s not fair on you.” Drake fixated his gaze on her, she was beautiful- he couldn’t still grasp why she wasn’t in a relationship herself. Why would she be selfless enough to for go her own happiness?

“He’s my friend. I’ll do anything for my close friends....” Before Riley could continue they were both disturbed and disgusted by the sounds coming from next door.

“Jesus fucking Christ Li.”

“Oh Beth!” Drake handed Riley another drink- another strong one, they both needed to do anything to block the moans echoing through the walls.

“She’s going to get pregnant in a flash if they carry on going... I don’t think I can cope anymore. I should have just stolen her keys.”

“And I’d have been following you. At this rate there’s going to be no social season as he’s got too lost in her.”

“I’m sure Liam and Leo’s father would love that.” They both burst out laughing, deciding to watch tv- the volume would hopefully overrule the other noises.

*****

Two hours later there was finally silence, Riley and Drakes eyes were like piss holes in the snow. Riley noticed Drake stand up, walking towards the couch he began to puff the pillows up.

“What are you doing?” Riley asked him.

“Erm, going to sleep now it’s quiet. We’re not sharing a bed.”

“Oh...” Shit she looks disappointed, she wants to sleep in the same bed.

“Oh?”

“I mean ‘oh’ as in I was going to sleep on the sofa. I’m the guest. This is your bed- you paid for it.”

“You don’t have to sleep on it. I’m fine. And technically the royal family paid for it.” Riley walked over to Drake, taking the pillow away from him effortlessly.

“Drake honestly, I’ll take the sofa.”

Drake tried to snatch the pillow back from her, as they both tugged at it - Riley fell on the sofa with Drake falling on top of her. Both laying frozen, fixating their eyes on each other- Riley eventually broke the silence. “Told you id take the sofa. I win.”

“I was never going to win this argument was I?” Shaking her head he admired her smile.

*****

Drake laid in bed, whilst Riley slept on the sofa. He kept looking over at her, she looked so peaceful- he was cursing Maxwell for suggesting this sleepover. It was too tempting- on a few occasions that night he wanted to kiss her. He imagined what it would be like to kiss her. He was awoken from his thoughts hearing his best friend make the most out of his night away from Cordonia. For fucks sake Liam. Tiptoeing past the sleeping beauty he walked on to the balcony, sparking a cigarette up and necking back the remainder of the whiskey left in the bottle. “For god sake!” Riley muttered as she was disturbed from her sleep. forgetting that she was just wearing her underwear she walked over to the wall, banging it telling Liam and Beth to shut the fuck up. Turning back towards the sofa, she had forgotten that she was in Drake’s room. He walked into room, closing the balcony door- just staring at her curves. “Shit! Would you believe that I actually forgot that you was here. I’m so used to walking around the apartment like this in front of Leo.” “I’ll cover my eyes. Even though I’ve seen you ... Erm... I’ll just pretend that I didn’t see you.... I needed a cig and a drink... I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight...” “This is so awkward... Pick your jaw up from the floor Mr Walker. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of women in their underwear.” She said seductively, much to Drake’s annoyance.

“I have. But none have looked as good as you. Shit. I didn’t mean to say that. I.. Erm... I’ll go back to bed.” Walking past her, she grabbed his wrist- needing him to look at her.

“Thank you.” She said smiling.

“What for?”

“Boosting my ego. Saying I look good.”

“No probs. Just speaking the truth.” Gulping hard, he was never one to speak his true feelings. He just believed it was the alcohol intake giving him that slight bit of confidence.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

Drake smiled at her and blushed, she bit her lip. He walked closer to her, placing his hands on her cheeks- she could feel his breathing increasing. Closing her eyes, she slowly kissed him. Breaking the kiss, they both stared at each other- electricity running through their veins. Drake immediately crashed his lips onto hers kissing like crazy as if their lives depended on it. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, starting off gentle but soon turned demanding. Rileys fingers ran through his hair, pulling him closer- his hands holding her petite frame.

“What happens in New York stays in New York, right?” Before she could react he picked her up and carried her over to the bed.

“Would Leo mind if I fuck his fake girlfriend senseless?”

“No. We have a kind of what you’d say... open relationship.”

“Good. Thank you for saving our friend.”

[hpdabbles]

Darry and “Well, /you/ weren’t who I was expecting.” please!

“But why do I have to do this?” Harry whines trailing behind Sirius who was fussing over the cuffs of his jacket suit for the fifth time. A few months ago, he would have never thought about whining too much with a guardian but ever since his Godfather crash into his life, screeching and forming around the mouth like his animagus form, a lot has changed for the young boy.

“Because, despite the fact I hate it too, this is a very important tradition in pureblood culture.” Sirius huffs. Once the older man gets his cuffs to settle he is twirling around to look over Harry’s outfit. He shakes his head, reaching forward to fix the collar until the Potter Family Chest is visible. It is adjusted to the Black Family Chest on the other side of Harry’s collar.

It feels awful like dog tags to identify who owns him.��

“If we follow the traditions, at least the less supremest ones, we can find some allies. We need allies.” Sirius continues taking a step back. His face is twisted as if the words disgust him deeply which cracks a smile out of Harry. “All we have to do is show up. I’m not going to allow you to be trap in a stupid contract.”

Harry raises a brow. “You can stop them?”

“I’m the Head of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. There is very little I can do with that title.”

“Then why do we even need allies?”

Sirius sighs bending down so his eyes are at Harry’s eye level. It makes the boy aware of his small stature but in a good way. Almost all his life he had people looking down at him: his uncle, his aunt, his cousin and everyone in the neighborhood who believed he was no good. 

Harry, in their eyes, was nothing but a mistake at best and a monster at worst.

Not Sirius. He always made an effort to look Harry on even grounds asking for his opinion and his thoughts acting like they mattered. With him, Harry felt like any other nine-year-old kid.

“We need allies because no man can do everything by himself. My title holds a lot of power but people are still wary of me, a lot of them truly believe I betrayed your parents and that I’m a Death Eater.” Sirius says gently but there is an undertone of frosty rage.  It may be a little odd to notice things like that but Harry always used to look for the undertone in conversations. You never know what could set off Vernon. You had to watch out for the signs.  “They think I paid my way out of Azkaban.”

“But you did pay you way out of Azkaban” Harry didn’t mean to point that out but the words came tumbling out of his mouth. It’s always been a problem for him quick like his fiery temper.

Sirius’ smile is proud like somehow Harry pleased him. It’s like mischief is what he strives on, happy to see it in any form.  His godfather is weird like that  “I’ll have you know I only persuaded a guard with a bit of gold to see if he could find the record of my trial. He’s the one that realizes there wasn’t a trial and brought it to the attention of the higher-ups. Very different brat.”  

Harry attempts to make a doubtful face but the way Sirius is wagging his eyebrows has him giggling instead. His godfather grins, reaching out to rough up his hair and Harry actually leans into the touch. 

“Now come. We have a ball to get to and it’s not proper to be late.” Sirius rolls his eyes voice turning to mock towards the end as he straightening up to his full height. He adjusts his top hat making his long wavy hair spill over to touch his shoulders. 

Harry finds it weird that wizards dress in robes and Sirius is apparently rebellious for being in victorian era outfits even if they are still considered formal. As long as they are accepted it’s all fine. 

His Godfather tilts his head walking the special way he taught Harry to step, graceful and no wasted effort.

You must walk as if though you are gliding. People can spot those without proper manners a mile away. You must learn to be graceful and walk with the importance of someone of your standing, Harry.

It took him a while but he learned how to be half as elegant as Sirius. There were still some days where he fell back into his old habits- shoulder’s slouching, steps too quick and pressing on his toes instead of his heels- but he likes to think he was getting better.

 “A Potential Marriage Ball, where everyone tries to marry up. Oh, the joys of purebloods.” Sirius sighs shaking his head. Harry stumbles over his dress shoes- having dressed in a victorian fashion as well but with green color, theme compares to the red of his guardian-  which makes him glare at the almost thoughtless way the older man walks. 

It’s not thoughtless, it’s a lot of work!

“Is Mr. Lupin going to be there as your potential marriage?” Harry asks innocently just to watch his godfather trip over his graceful legs. He giggles again when Sirius attempts to fight off the blush as he pretends he doesn’t have a crush on Moony.

Harry thinks it’s stupid. Everyone with eyes can tell and that’s coming from him, who admits that he can be rather dense.

“Why don’t we drive around your old school and make people jealous of our money tomorrow? We can rent the most expensive limo and have the windows down.” Sirius suggests clearing his throat. Harry perks up. He loves it when he can rub it into all those peoples faces that now Harry was much better then they are. 

He also recognizes it as a distraction from the conversation but takes the bait anyway. “Can we buy ice-cream too?”

“Sure.”

The ball is supposed to be his formal introduction to the Wizarding world. Harry has been with Sirus for months but he has been kept out of the public eye only being allowed one guest, Remus Lupin, to visit him. 

Sirius had wanted to get them both comfortable around each other and prepare Harry for his fame and role as the Boy Who Lived. It still boggles his mind that he’s famous. 

The ball when they walk in is the most magical thing he’s ever seen. The ballroom is lightened with flouting candles, all that hover around the top of the room near a sparkling glass chandelier. The light bounces off the glass through sparks along the walls.

The entrance is at the top of stairs, which gives the whole view of the room, and everything is a level lower, spreading out into a wide dance floor of marble. There seem to be house elves walking around offering floating trays to guests, while classical music plays but he can’t see any bands. He doubts the high-class wizard world has speakers so the music must be a charm.

People are waltzing near the big windows in the far back while on the right side tables are set up. To the left, the area is reserved for conversating. Harry can see kids in all these but even they move more gracefully then Harry.

He swallows a gulp.

 All-around him people in expensive robes and dresses mingle, some with shimmering jewelry and others in makeup. Harry personally thinks most of the men with makeup have nothing on Sirius’s eyeliner and red lipstick. 

Padfoot is the most attractive male in the room, and he walks down the stairs well aware of it. Harry hurries behind him, aware of multiple stares after the little house elf shouts  “The Head of the Noble and Ancient House of Black with his Heir have arrived. Presenting Lord Sirius Black and Heir Harry Potter” 

“Remember your lessons,” Sirius whispers to him while they move down the wide stairway. “Try to not offend anyone but don’t let them walk all over you. Please dance with one person before the night ends. And remember, I love you no matter what.”

“I love you too.” 

As soon as they make it to the bottom of the stairs Sirus is surrounded by people who wish to say hello after so many years apart. His godfather greets them with a charming smile, easily sidestepping the pointed questions and passive-aggressive comments with ease. They crowd coo and aww over Harry congratulating him and staring at him like he’s a prize to be won. It makes him shiver.

Harry slips away the moment he sees an opening and makes his way to the other side of the room, ducking underneath dancing pairs until he can find a nice little nock in the windows sills to hide. He’s out of sight and unless people search for him deliberately no one will find him.

One useful skill he picked up from the Dursleys at least.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry slumps. The lessons that Sirus attempting to stuff in his head - walking, breathing, speaking, manners, traditions,- all flew from his head the moment he was surrounded. He no doubts just made it harder for them to get allies.

Sirius would have to do some serious damage control. He feels very ashamed of himself for making things harder for Padfoot when their situation is bad enough as it is. 

They need allies, allies with influence because of the Ministry. They have been in waiting to look for any reason, any hint, of Sirius, messing up and dragging him back to Azkaban or at the very less take Harry away from him. 

Neither wanted this, but they needed the backing of powerful families should it does come to a legal battle.  And now, because of him, there may have gone any help they could get.

Harry feels tears prick at his eyes suddenly filled with dread that he may have to go back to the Dursleys. He’s doesn’t want to go back. Please don’t make him go back. Don’t take Sirius away. Please please please, please-

“Well, you weren’t who I was expecting” A voice breaks through his haze of fear. Blicking through tears Harry sees a boy his age at the entrance of his little nook. He’s wearing grey robes, resembling liquid mercery, and a family crest on his collar tells Harry he’s an Heir. Of what family he’s not sure.  

The boy is also really pretty. His hair is so fair it almost seems white, with pretty clear skin and storming grey eyes. 

He’s looking Harry up and down. The pretty pureblood seems unimpressed “I didn’t think the Boy-Who-Lived would find my hiding place. Mother swore no one would know- hey are you okay?”

There is little space between them so when the boy raises his hand to wipe a trail of tears off Harry’s face, he steps into his personal bubble. This makes Harry stiffen. He likes it when Sirius or Remus touches him, but not when others- especially people he isn’t sure won’t hurt him - do it. 

He doesn’t push him away, however, because he doesn’t want to make things worse for Sirius. And the boy is actually really nice, his eyes are soft with worry, almost like he cares. He’s seen some kids in school look like that with their friends but he’s never had someone he’s age do the same to him.

Harry feels more tears fill his eyes.

“Don’t cry.” The boy continues gently taking Harry’s hand. “Are you lost? I can help you find your way.”

“N-no” Harry hiccups frustrated with himself.  “I’m fine.” 

The boy stares a little more before one his thumbs run over Harry’s knuckles in a soothing motion. “Alright. You can stay. I’ll allow it. My names Draco Malfoy.”

“Ha-ary Po..tter” Harry gasps out through his hitching breath. Draco tugs his hand until they find a seat on the window shills, the large pillar keeping them out of sight. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Draco tells him still holding his hand and Harry smiles just a bit.  “Do you like Quidditch?”

“A little. I play with my godfather sometimes. My favorite position is Seeker”

“Mine too.” Draco smiles please and the Harry swears the music must have timed it because at that moment it syncs up to play a light-hearted melody that fits the glow of his face. He can’t look away. 

He squeezes the hand in his palm and is thrill by the squeeze he gets in return. Did he just make his first-ever friend? 

For the rest of the evening, Draco and Harry talk about things the boys like and the hours’ tick by. They eventually switch to games, verbal ones and ones they can play with their hands -  Draco is determined to win at rock, paper, scissors even though Harry refuses to let him add in Wand because it’s too powerful- and the fear he felt at the began chips away. 

Eventually, a woman appears at their hiding place with a very put upon frown. Draco twists his head up from where he’s attempting to do a handstand with Harry holding his knees to his chest to give him room.  He claims he could do it and Harry had called his bluff. 

“Mother!” The Malfoy blurts tumbling forward with a blush. “I was ugh that’s to say-I’m. This…this is Harry Potter! Harry this is my mother.”

“It’s very lovely to meet you, ma’am,” Harry says remembering to wave his wrist in a slight twirl like Sirius told him to do when meeting female purebloods. Once he’s older, he’s supposed to kiss their hands. He thinks….or was it the other way around?

 She gives them both a long look before her face clears. “It’s lovely to meet you as well Mr. Potter. Draco, darling, you have yet to dance and the night is almost full.”

Draco flushes more looking down at his feet as if though he’s been scowled but Harry had picked up the amuse undertones in her voice. She’s not angry at her son, she’s just teasing.  Still, he finds himself saying. “That’s my fault! I kept Draco here all night. I’m sorry,”

“It’s quite alright.” She says tilting her head. Harry doesn’t like the calculating look in her eye.  “I assume this means your dance card is empty as well? Would you do Draco the honor of being your first partner? He’s quite the catch.”

“Mother!”

It takes a moment to remember what that means. He just stares up at her in confusion before he snaps.  “Yes! Yes, it’s empty.”

He turns to the mortified Draco. Sirius did ask him to do one dance and he thinks it’s nice to dance with a friend instead of a stranger.   “Do you want to dance with me?”

Draco’s whole face turns red.  “Y-yes?”

Mrs. Malfoy makes a slight cooing noise before she ushers them out into the crowd. Harry pulls Draco’s hand until they are on the dance floor and they start a Walz. It’s a simple one since the Potter Heir hasn’t been taking lessons on this topic for long but Draco’s just as two left feet as him- the reason he hides at balls apparently- and they end up laughing through the whole thing. 

Harry can’t stop staring at the prettiest boy he’s ever seen spin in the candlelight with a wide smile. Sirius throws him a thumbs up when Harry gestures at the Malfoy mouthing  I made a friend!  and the man looks genuinely pleased. 

Somewhere he hears Mrs. Malfoy say.  “Lucius go fetch the Pensieve. I must never forget this night!”

Harry whole-heartily agrees with her. 

[follyoliver]

New thread same TWD thoughts:

So I know I said all that stuff about Daryl and Michonne being my favorite characters on the walking dead, and also all that other stuff about good riddance to dead rapists, including among others Shane, but clearly you should ignore everything I say because I’ve spent the last couple days writing a convoluted Shane-centric backstory for a potential Rick/Daryl fic, and almost nothing about Daryl. Not too much about Rick either! Mostly just Shane, and Shane’s intense and lifelong obsession with Rick, and how that manifested over the years and really shaped him as a person.

Like .......do I want to be spending this much time thinking about Shane? Thinking about how much he loves Rick, and hates himself for loving Rick, and hates Rick both for being the object of his love and for being wonderfully unburdened by the knowledge of Shane’s love, and hates every girl Rick ever crushes on but also wants to fuck all of them before Rick can - you know. A thorny thicket of self-loathing and deeply ingrained homophobia and violent misogyny and angry possessiveness. Do I want to be circling that drain? Noooo..... but also, clearly, yes.

Also I found this article where Norman Reedus explains that Daryl is “prison gay” and it’s so problematic but it’s also all I can think about. I mean that turn of phrase is really unfortunate and I can’t get behind it at all, but when he elaborates and says that it’s like he’s attracted to men but he’d never admit it (& he’d STAB you if you called him out on it?????? Norman! He would not! He would just yell a bunch of mean things and then stalk off to go cry and smoke a cigarette by himself! And then he’d come back and threaten to stab you if you said anything but he wouldn’t actually follow through with it! Obviously!) is pretty much exactly how he comes across, and also a decent chunk of what I find compelling about the character.

What was I saying before about how I was shocked and appalled at how much time I was spending writing about Shane? I have no self-awareness. Obviously I’m obsessed with any character struggling with intense internalized homophobia. I see a character with tender gay feelings reject their tender gay feelings violently, I go “time to Process Some Shit here!!!!! :DDD” and it’s just over for me.

Jon Bernthal (& Andrew Lincoln) reeeeeeally sold me on Shane’s extreme, obsessive, physical love for Rick, mostly expressed by having sex with Lori, and later, when Rick came back and she didn’t want to anymore, by sexually assaulting Lori, and by holding Rick’s face in his big hands and staring into his eyes, their foreheads almost touching, both of their faces red with emotion, Rick’s hands gripping Shane’s shoulders, as “their son” (uh, symbolically) Carl flickers between life and death in the next room over. Shane is so terrible but he loves Rick so much! I feel bad about how obsessed I am with him.

Anyway back to characters that aren’t rapists, I kind of want to write a Daryl who isn’t ......the thing he said. A Daryl who isn’t dealing with internalized homophobia of quite such a violent variety. Let’s try a Daryl who knows the world he grew up in and knows how to keep his mouth shut and how not to get caught by his brother, or anyone who might tell his brother, or anyone who might try to, uh, stab him.... anyway, a Daryl who is smart, and keeps his own counsel, and isn’t looking to change the culture, or live openly, because living openly isn’t smart or safe, but he knows who he is and he’s not ashamed.

Tbh I’m also open to a Daryl who would threaten to stab you. Tbqh I am probably going to spend more time writing about that than a healthier Daryl who doesn’t hate himself for being queer. Listen. I have Things to process. I want Daryl to be all fully-realized but I want to grow in the process, I guess. I want hard won emotional truth. Without too much conversation, because that seems out of character. My entire way of talking and writing is out of character for this. I’ll just have to be wordy and verbose and melodramatic in talking around it and about it because i don’t know another way.

Daryl is such a “Beth asks him what made him decide there were still good people in the world and he just glances over at her. She asks him again and he gives her a more pointed look. She asks him a third time and he turns to her with this searching look on his face, this look of disbelief, like he can’t believe she doesn’t already know, and is she asking out of vanity? no, maybe not - but how can she not understand? is he gonna have to say it? he doesn’t have the words for it. And they just look at each other for some long, intense seconds, until she says Oh. And then I think there’s zombies” type of character.

Like I would not write a scene like that, it’s got too much internal monologue, but how do you convey all that without just explaining it? That literally happened exactly like that in the show and it was ...intense! I felt so uncomfortable! Esp since there was So Much Tension between Beth and Daryl in that story arc. You could read it as platonic. You could. I cling to that pretty desperately. Beth mentioned her dead older brother and I was like “thank heavens! A piece of driftwood to carry us thru the flood! She thinks of him as an older brother!” and clung to that for dear life. But it was also Pure Unadulterated Unspoken Romantic Tension. Like, if I was still an impressionable young girl, I would have watched it and had some Very Interesting Dreams About Daryl And Beth that night. I know who I was.

I remember when I was nine years old and I watched the first X-Men movie and wow, we really did open with that scene of Wolverine cage-fighting for extra cash, and he’s all muscular and sad and being exploited for his body and then Rogue is there and she’s sad and alone and touch-starved but cannot bear to be touched and people literally die if they do touch her and she insinuates herself into Wolverine’s truck and into his life and he begins, grudgingly, to care for her in this deep way where he recognizes their shared pain and her vulnerability that is also in some ways his - uh, I had a lot of Very Interesting Dreams about the two of them, you better believe, and I also started writing a “novel” (I was always writing “novels” as a kid, that were mostly just “cool ideas for stories that could exist and if they did I would love to read them” - same as now) that was basically just “what if Rogue and her superpowers but not in the X-Men universe” and I had the most intense crush on Wolverine for years and years. If I’m being honest I still do. Formative!!!

So anyway, that stuff makes me pretty uncomfortable now but I try to remember that it’s like fan service for teenagers I guess???? Idk, is it? Or is it conditioning them to accept the love of an adult as fine and normal and healthy and desirable? Idk but they never crossed the line into having Beth try to kiss Daryl so I didn’t have to rage-quit the show.

[amartiniplease]

Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Part 2 of “That’s starting to get annoying”.

A/N: This was supposed to be based on a prompt but went in a completely different direction. 

Synopsis: The war in Europe is over and you are waiting for further orders in Austria. You are starting to feel like yourself after pretending to be a man for so long. Joe and you are managing your relationship but there is some pressure about the more physical aspects. You finally have a conversation about it.

Disclaimer: This work is based on the characters as they are portrayed in the HBO series Band of Brothers and is by no means meant as an offense to any of the real men that it was based on.

Wartime seemed to be coming to an end, they were currently stationed in Austria, a beautiful country which appeared like the Garden of Eden after the hell they had been through. They were still riding the high of capturing Berchtesgaden and the war being over in Europe. They had started to see the potential of a life after.

Although the war was still raging in Japan and most didn’t have enough points to go home, the spirit among them had changed completely.

Training again was tough but they had roofs over their heads, beds, food and hot showers. It was everything they could have asked for and more. Y/n was enjoying the clear water, going on swims, and the sun hitting her face. She had started to grow her hair out again, it made her feel a little more like herself.

Most of all she was enjoying Joseph Liebgott. They took every chance they got to sneak off, making out against walls of buildings or lounging in the grass somewhere. They hadn’t had sex yet. The opportunity hadn’t presented itself, there were too many people around most of the time. Not that they didn’t want to, Y/n didn’t feel like it was a big rush, but she was still nervous.

She had just finished a swim, since she was still wearing men’s clothing she was clad in a t-shirt and a pair of skivvies. Coming out of the water she lifted her hands to push her hair out of her face. A groan reverberated over the water at the sight of her shirt clinging to her body leaving nothing to imagination.

“You are killing me Y/n.” Joe said running his eyes appreciatively over her figure.

Y/n just laughed and shook her head. He was standing by the shore, eyes bright and hair a little tousled, she figured he had probably woken up and gone straight here. Going up to him she smiled mischievously before pressing her soaked body against him, wrapping her arms around him at his protests.

“Good morning.” Y/n pressed a kiss on the base of his throat and felt him shiver when she murmured the words.

“A good morning indeed,” His hands wandered lower to squeeze her butt.

Rolling her eyes she couldn’t help but smile. The sun was hitting part of his face making him squint to spare his eyes but it was also making his eyes a swirl of colours. He was looking down at her, hair falling over his forehead. Y/n liked his eyes. Not because they were particularly special, but because there was kindness in them and humor. Somehow they conveyed every emotion as clear as if he’d shouted it. He was easy to read if you knew where to look. Joe was a passionate person and Y/n admired that about him. Sometimes he let things go to his head and acted recklessly. And though she didn’t always agree with them, she respected his choices if he was sure that he was doing the right thing.

Y/n slid her hands up to rest on his cheeks. She shut her eyes as she leant forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling away slightly she met his gaze. “I like you a lot.” Smiling she kissed him again before stepping back.

Joe put on his famous smirk as soon as he had recovered. “Good thing I like you too then, sweetheart.” His eyes softening a little when he looked at her.

Y/n just winked at him before turning to the clothes she had brought to change into. Glancing over her shoulder she noticed Joe’s intense stare. It made her blush and she hesitated with her hands resting on the hem of the shirt.

“I’ll turn around if you want.” Joe had noticed her hesitation.

She sighed. “It’s not that, just feeling a little self-conscious I guess.”

Undressing in front of other people wasn’t exactly something she was used to. Especially not after these last few years of hiding it at all costs. Y/n didn’t think she’d seen herself properly in two years. Not that she cared about her looks much after what they had gone through and the things that she’d seen. After Landsberg, any criticism of her body felt like she was commiting a personal offence to each and everyone of those men. This wasn’t about that at all. Of course she wanted Joe to find her desirable but it was the other way around she was worried about. She was afraid he’d see her body and forget who she was. That he would remember that she wasn’t just one of the guys and start treating her differently.

“I already know that you are beautiful, Y/n.” He was attempting to reassure her, but he was getting it all wrong.

She suddenly felt angry, turning around she fixed him with a glare “I am not fishing for compliments Joseph.” The use of his full name got the desirable effect, his eyes widened and he opened his mouth in shock.

“I’m sorry. Fuck. I just figured that maybe that was why you’ve been so against us sleeping together.” Joe didn’t even realise he was digging his grave deeper.

“What did you just say?” Y/n’s voice was dangerously calm as she narrowed her eyes at him.

He looked startled and shifted a little while he talked. “I don’t know. I just thought maybe you were worried that I wasn’t gonna find you hot enough or something.”

Y/n laughed all low and throaty. “Fuck you!” She spat, walking closer to him as she spoke. “My value does not lie in whether my body is desirable enough for you, you arrogant asshole.” To punctuate her statement she poked his chest with a finger. “I don’t give a shit what you think.”

Y/n was fuming and didn’t want to look at him for another second so she turned back to the pile of clothes before swiftly tugging her t-shirt off her body, she picked up the dry one from the ground and slid it over her head before repeating the action with her underwear. She angrily snatched the cargo pants from the ground and pulled them up, buttening them as she turned around to face the shocked look on Joe’s face.

Staring at her Joe opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again. At last he managed to choke out. “What the fuck just happened?”

“You were being a fucking idiot. That’s what happened.” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest.

Joe searched her face for something, he moved closer. “I don’t think your value is determined by your body Y/n.” He said softly. “I’ve known you for almost three years. Fuck I even fell in love with you while you were pretending to be a boy for fuck’s sake so don’t you dare say that.” Pulling a hand through his hair he let out a frustrated sigh.

All she could do was stare. “Fell in love?”

He shot her a glare. “Yes, fell in love. I’m in love with you. Fuck.” Lowering his gaze to the ground. “I thought you knew that.”

“Before you even knew I was a woman?” She tried to catch his eyes, but he kept looking down.

Nodding, a blush spread across his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Oh, Joe.” Warmth filled her chest. She couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face. Feeling ashamed that she had underestimated him like that.

Joe hadn’t lifted his eyes from the ground and a frown curved his eyebrows. “I understand if that makes you not want to be with me.” He thought her reaction was out of disgust.

“What?” Y/n stared at him in bewilderment. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

“Because I am attracted to men.” He thought about his short infatuation with David and how afraid he’d been that anyone would find out. And when he’d started falling for Y/n he had been even more scared because it felt different from a crush.

Y/n found this ridiculous, but knew better than to laugh. “Joe,” She paused, she wanted him to look at her when she said this. “Look at me please.” She saw him reluctantly lift his head. “I want to be with you. The only reason I care that you are attracted to men is because I wonder if you are attracted to me like this.” She gestured to her body, he had a vulnerable look in his eyes. “No matter who you are attracted to I support you. It doesn’t make you any less than anyone else.” She smiled softly at him.

“Both,” He murmured. “I am attracted to you now but I was also attracted to you before.” He deigned to indicate that he had heard the rest.

“Then that is all that matters.” She said decidedly. “And Joe. I love you.”

He flinched a little at those words. As if they had caught him off guard and Y/n realised that he probably thought that he’d never get to hear them from her after he had told her what he felt. She walked up to him touching his arm gingerly. Wishing that she could reassure him that she was telling him the truth.

“I have never been in love with anyone before. But, what you mean to me, is everything. More than living, that is how much I love you.” These words felt too important to be spoken out loud just like that so she made herself whisper them. Her hands were hanging at her sides a little spread as if waiting to embrace him.

Joe seemed to shudder when she said that and finally stepped into her space, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. She felt his tears but didn’t comment, she knew he had had enough for one day.

And because she knew he had to hear it she whispered the words to him once again, like it was a secret between just the two of them. “I love you.”

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

THE BISEXUAL WYATT MANIFESTO: PART DEUX

The previous post simply got far too long for me to put it all in one place so here is part the second. Put below a cut and my apologies to mobile users!

Part one here.

PART THE SECOND: POURQOUI???

But why, Mads, you shout? Why decide to headcanon a character as bi? Is it just so you can write your dragon porn?

maybe

Ahem.

Listen. I love diversity as much as the next person. Y’all know I do. I mean, I’m a huge fan of Rufus and Jiya, and Denise, queen of my heart. But… I mean we already have a het ship with Jiya and Rufus. And I feel like, y’know, Wyatt being white AND cis AND male AND straight? Feels like a little much, y’know? And there’s no reason for him to be straight, he just IS, and that feels—I mean where’s the whole backstory about it, right? And it feels a little illogical to have… I mean I don’t have any friends who are white and straight and cis male. It just feels unrealistic.

Okay, okay, extreme salt aside and mostly out of my system…

As a character, even in season one when I did like him, Wyatt is boring. He’s the same white straight male soldier/law-and-order character that we’ve seen in literally every single piece of science fiction since the dawn of time. You will find an exact copy of him in Stargate SG-1 (my apologies to Jack O’Neill), Stargate Atlantis (sorry John…), 12 Monkeys, Sarah Connor Chronicles, Terra Nova, Battlestar Galactica, Andromeda, Star Trek Enterprise, Eureka… and that’s not even touching all the mystery/crime shows (CSI, Bones, Criminal Minds, NCIS, Law & Order, Blue Bloods, Take Two) and military shows (SEAL Team, 24, etc). He’s got a dead wife, fantastic, so does the Punisher, so does Sam Winchester (also created by Eric Kripke), so does GARCIA FLYNN, another character on the show, and Flynn’s wife’s death actually ties into the bigger mystery of the show. By God, if you’re gonna fridge a wife at least make her fridging the entire reason the show exists.

Yes, you heard me. Think about it. If Lorena and Iris Flynn don’t die, then Flynn never wants to go on a vengeful rampage, so Lucy never chooses to give him the journal, so he never steals the time machine… killing Lorena and Iris was the biggest mistake Rittenhouse ever made. If you’re gonna play the dead wife card then by golly at least do it like this and make avenging her death the entire reason for the show.

So not only is Wyatt the same cookie cutter character we’ve seen in every TV show ever, he’s also a repeat of Flynn. He’s not just boring, he’s redundant.

Wyatt is also the only character on the show that you could replace with someone else without changing any of the main plot. When I originally decided to do a fic where the team comes back to find one of them was erased from existence on the trip, I knew it had to be Wyatt—erasing Lucy would change everything (which I explore in The Void is Open), erasing Flynn would take them to a world where Rittenhouse has won, erasing Rufus would mean potentially no pilot… you see what I mean. But Wyatt is very neatly replaced with Dave Baumgardner in 1.14 and shows us that Wyatt is, literally, replaceable. Of course he isn’t to Lucy and Rufus at that point because they care about him but for writing reasons? For plot? Literally any soldier would do. Any. Denise could hop in there with them if she so chose.

Now, all this makes it sound like I dislike Wyatt. And I didn’t in season one. I quite liked our puppy. I liked him for two reasons: 1. He had a lot of potential and 2. his character mirrored/paralleled Flynn and I saw a copious amount of opportunities with that.

Both Flynn and Wyatt have lost their spouse. Both Flynn and Wyatt are soldiers. Wyatt had an abusive father and given that Flynn goes on a potential suicide mission for his mother but we never once hear him mention his father (he might as well not have one for his importance to Flynn’s life), I’m taking a guess that Flynn’s father wasn’t all that great of a person either. Both Flynn and Wyatt risk everything to save the people they love and both pay heavy prices for it and become people they’re ashamed of (Flynn all of season one, Wyatt in 1x13). Both Flynn and Wyatt care deeply for Lucy and look to her for guidance.

Wyatt and Flynn mirror each other. One is willing to break rules, and to forge his own path, while the other follows rules and is scared to strike out on his own. Both of them struggle with identity–Wyatt has no idea who he is now that Jess is dead, and Flynn believes he’s turned into a monster and who he once was is lost. Taking advantage of that mirror makes for compelling storytelling, and the writers failed in that in season two after setting it up so beautifully in season one.

The fun thing is, these parallels become even more poignant if you make Wyatt bi and have him be attracted to Flynn (and is a convenient shortcut to bring those parallels back to the fore).

We touched in the previous section how it’s easy to see Wyatt as attracted to Flynn and that’s why he lashes out so much, and indeed how that is the only rational explanation for why Wyatt is so goddamn against Flynn the whole time.

Let’s dive into that, shall we?

Of the original trio, Rufus and Lucy have ample reason to dislike Flynn. Wyatt? Has none. Flynn makes things personal with Lucy right out the gate, and Rufus’s family will be hurt if Flynn isn’t stopped. But Wyatt is just supposed to see Flynn as an enemy soldier. No personal vendetta involved. And before you say rivalry over Lucy–most of Lucy’s pivotal moments with Flynn in season one are without Wyatt present, and the ones she does have in front of Wyatt aren’t automatically read as romantic. Wyatt himself doesn’t even admit he’s got feelings for Lucy until season two, and as far as he knows, Lucy’s still dealing with Noah.

But Wyatt hates Flynn. As we’ve seen in our examples, he reacts to Flynn with a violence that is missing from Rufus and Lucy. And there is no reason for that violent dislike to be there.

Unless Wyatt is attracted to Flynn and is scared of that from internalized homophobia.

If Wyatt finds Flynn attractive, and has internalized homophobia from, y’know, growing up in Texas and having an abusive father and going into the army, then his anger towards Flynn, his stubbornness, his refusal to listen to Flynn (because if Flynn is right about things and Flynn is an okay guy that opens the door to other more ‘dangerous’ thoughts), and his tendency to react to Flynn’s time with Lucy with such anger–it all makes sense. The last one is partly about Wyatt’s jealousy and possessiveness over Lucy but if it’s coupled with attraction to Flynn it makes even more sense.

Having Wyatt behave this way simply doesn’t hold up. It relies far too much on the audience making leaps of logic about Flynn and Lucy’s relationship in season one and assuming that Wyatt and Lucy are meant to be together, without enough evidence for the latter and Wyatt not at all present for the former.

If Wyatt’s bi, it all makes sense and is logical and again adds another dimension to his character and to his interactions with Flynn.

Monkey Brain: heh heh Wyatt and Flynn kissing is hot as fuck

Wyatt’s toxic masculinity becomes even more interesting and important (and make more sense) if Wyatt is bi.

In this meta here (my first for the Timeless fandom!) I talk about Wyatt and his toxic masculinity so to avoid repeating myself howzabout you go read that and come back mmkay?

…

You done? Perfect. So. Now that you understand where Wyatt’s toxic masculinity comes from and how he displays it in canon, I can say this:

Wyatt being bi forces him to confront his toxic behavior in a unique and powerful way that he can no longer ignore.

Part of Wyatt’s toxic behavior is that his behavior is specifically based in the masculine and the patriarchal. And so most of his bad behavior is rooted in how he treats his romantic interest–which has been Lucy and Jess.

Wyatt was, by his own admission, jealous and possessive towards Jess. He didn’t know how to relate to Lucy when she was no longer a romantic option, so he keeps trying to be romantic with her instead, and his possessive behavior comes to the fore as he tries to control who she spends time with and tries to get her to be as emotionally intimate with him as she was before, despite his wife being back and that intimacy no longer possible.

Getting Wyatt to realize his toxic behavior is difficult, since so many people have bought into the lie that men are supposed to be territorial and possessive towards the women they’re in relationships with. However, most heteronormative toxicity falls apart and is recognizable as harmful once we put it in a new light.

When a situation is bad, you often need an outside perspective, or to change one of the circumstances, in order to see how bad it is. Wyatt’s been lectured at by Lucy, Rufus, Flynn, and Jess, and he didn’t see his behavior was unhealthy. But if we change one of the circumstances i.e. the gender of the person he’s attracted to romantically/sexually, then suddenly he has to look at his behavior towards that person in a new light.

Let’s take Flynn for example. Wyatt can’t treat Flynn the way he’s treated Jess or Lucy. If he tries to be possessive of Flynn, not only would he be unable to, but he’ll realize that it’s wrong of him to even think of it. Wyatt wouldn’t find it natural to try and be jealous when Flynn talked to another man, because Flynn is a man, and he wouldn’t automatically assume another man was flirting with Flynn, or that Flynn was flirting with that man.

Because the thing is, our society is pretty heteronormative still. It’s genuinely hard to tell when someone is just being friendly or actually flirting, but we tend to really assume that when a man is interacting with a woman, one or both of them are flirting. With people of the same gender (or of non-cis genders such as trans and nonbinary) it becomes harder to tell, and a lot of the time we assume that it’s just platonic. So for Wyatt to become jealous over Flynn talking to a man–that goes against the norm because it means he’s assuming romantic rather than platonic interaction, the opposite of what we assume when we look at two people of the same gender.

It would force him to take a second look at all of his behavior and choices. It would force him to realize that his behavior was wrong towards Flynn, which means it’s wrong towards Lucy and Jess, etc. It changes an element and so it forces him to see everything in a new light.

On top of all this—Wyatt’s character is pretty stagnant. I believe that’s why they brought Jess back, honestly: because without Jess coming back to complicate things, there’s nowhere for Wyatt to grow. Forcing him to confront his behavior towards Jess was, I think, what the writers ultimately intended for him (the smart ones, anyway). I don’t think they intended for him to end up with Jess at the end, at least not originally. There are things said by Shawn Ryan in interviews that suggest to me that they realized Flynn/Lucy and Wyatt/Jess was a more interesting dynamic than the originally planned Wyatt/Lucy, so they switched gears and planned to have Jess end up with Wyatt. BUT, whether a romantic reunion endgame for them was the plan or not, given the alley scene in 2x10 and other scenes in season two, I fully believe that prior to the nuclear bomb of dog shit that was the Christmas finale, the plan was always to give Jess a redemption arc and that Wyatt would become a better person through convincing her to turn double agent (and through becoming a father).

If you don’t bring Jess back, there’s nowhere for Wyatt’s character to go. Nothing for him to do. Rufus, Lucy, Flynn, Mason, Denise, Jiya—they all have hugely powerful arcs and tough situations. I could go into them but that’ll send me off into another tangent that we don’t have time for. Suffice to say, I can off the top of my head think of two internal struggles and places for each character to grow that would last a couple seasons. And that’s just off the top of my head.

But Wyatt? You can’t. He’s got nowhere to go.

Bringing back Jess is one way that you can force growth and give Wyatt a new arc, but you can’t just give a character one single arc. You have to give them multiple. No real life person is struggling with just one thing, we’re struggling with multiple things. Take Lucy in season two. She’s struggling with Rittenhouse, with her relationship with her mother, with her realizations about herself and what she’s willing to do, with losing Wyatt, with getting back Amy, and with her growing relationship with Flynn.

That’s a lot.

Rufus and Jiya have their relationship AND Jiya’s visions that lead to an arc about destiny versus free will, AND both struggling with the “what are we willing to do to win/who am I becoming” arc.

Give Wyatt JUST Jess, and that’s not enough. It’s also something that, to do right, you have to stretch over I’d say two seasons, seasons three and four. So you need something else to fill in more gaps.

Having Wyatt be bisexual and having him struggle with his sexuality gives him dozens of more opportunities for interesting interactions with other characters, it gives him more ways to address his toxic behavior (as we discussed), it gives him more ways to grow. Because we don’t just grow in a straight line. We grow like trees, with limbs stretching up all over the place and roots digging in deep and crisscrossing everywhere.

Wyatt is a stagnant character. Giving him bisexuality gives him a way to continue to grow that isn’t dependent on another character (Jess) and can be shortened or drawn out depending on how his other arc (Jess, potentially Lucy as well) plays out.

Having Wyatt be bi takes away all of his redundancy, and stops him from being boring, and stops him from being so easily replaceable. If a character isn’t intrinsically tied to the plot (Rufus is there because he’s the only pilot, Lucy is a history expert and tied to Rittenhouse, etc) then you need to think of other reasons for the viewers to really care about them and I’m sorry, but having a dead wife and then being stuck in a heterosexual love triangle doesn’t cut it in the year of our lord 2016 (or ’17, or ’18, or any other year that follows).

And no offense to anyone struggling with PTSD because it needs to be addressed, but the whole ‘soldier with PTSD’ has been done before and, despite making it a main feature in 1.05 The Alamo, it hasn’t been touched on since. Not once. So that’s I guess been thrown out the window by the writers as a plot device (although again that could be brought back by having Wyatt bond with Flynn and Flynn talking with him about shared experiences could be a way that Wyatt further develops feelings for him YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!?!?).

It also, as I outlined in part one, explains all of his behavior. It takes behavior that made no sense and was toxic alpha male bullshit and puts a whole new and interesting and understandable spin on it. Note I said understandable, not justifiable, this does not in any way excuse any of Wyatt’s behavior. But boy howdy does it make it a lot more nuanced and layered. Having Wyatt be bi suddenly opens so many goddamn doors for his character I can’t even keep track. His PTSD, his relationship with his father, his relationship with Jess, his relationship with Flynn and Lucy, his time in the army, all of those things have new and boundless opportunities in them. It gives opportunities and explains and gives depth to one-note, shallow, cliche male behavior.

Not to mention, um, making him a repressed bisexual gives so many more opportunities for angst and hurt/comfort and all that delicious, delicious character conflict that we all love. Mmmm yes the precious. And, BONUS, it gives us character angst that doesn’t necessarily revolve around a romantic pairing! You can give a character a sexuality crisis without giving them a person to be paired off with! Wyatt can have his crisis over Ian Fleming or Wendell Scott or Rittenhouse Agent No. 5, and figure it all out with only platonic assistance from the team. OR he can be pining over Flynn without Flynn having a clue because Flynn needs his love interests to hit him over the head with a baseball bat to get him to notice and even then it doesn’t always work. OR have him worry about confessing to Jess and/or Lucy and fearing they’ll see him differently given their past sexual/romantic entanglements! ALL. THE. CHARACTER. ANGST. BITCHEEEEEES.

Finally, last but not least, why should Wyatt be bi? Because representation matters, that’s why.

Up until now I’ve highlighted why Wyatt, specifically, as an individual, should be bi. But stepping away from him individually… why the fuck not make your character bi?

It’s the 2010s. The world is finally waking up to the fact that LGBT+ people are here, we exist, and also having us as characters makes your ratings soar. People were ecstatic over The Day Reagan Was Shot, which focused on Denise and her coming out. Timeless’s diversity was a huge point in its favor and was a huge part of why critics loved it. Making, of all people, the most rough and tumble masculine man’s man of the cast be bisexual is important because it reminds us that anyone can have any sexuality, that there are no stereotypes, and that not all LGBT+ people are fashion gurus.

I’m sorry, Wyatt, but it’s true, you are no longer allowed to dress yourself, I’ve submitted you to Queer Eye.

What could be a more powerful storyline for today than a man who was abused as a kid, exhibited toxic masculinity, and was clearly unhappy with himself as a person and looking outside of himself to someone else to fix him, come to terms with himself, come to love himself, come to say “hey I love who I love and I am who I am and fuck anyone who says otherwise”? What could be a more wonderful representation of the diversity and family bonding themes of the show then to have Wyatt, the insecure difficult-with-feelings small town poster for typical masculinity come out, scared of rejection, scared of their reactions, only to have everyone show him love and acceptance and unwavering support? To have Denise hug him and tell him she understands how she feels? To have Lucy tell him she doesn’t see him any differently? For Rufus to joke this is why Wyatt can never choose a cereal and then reaffirm their friendship?

Having Wyatt be bi isn’t just good for him as a character, it’s good for the audience, and it continues the themes of the show and continues to break down stereotypes and honestly, there’s no reason for any character to be straight, either. We just ask “but why” because straight is still the default in our heads and all deviancy from the norm must be explained and rationalized. But there’s no need for that. Wyatt has the most typically heterosexual traits out of all of them, and he’s from a small town in Texas, and he went into the army. How powerful for people to see him come out. How wonderful. But Wyatt can be bi just because you damn well feel like it, because there shouldn’t be a big list of reasons (although I do have them, clearly). He can be bi just because, well, there’s no big tragic backstory for why I’m bi. I just am. And so is he.

In conclusion: Bi!Wyatt is ten times more interesting, nuanced, and unique than Straight!Wyatt, it adds depth and opportunities for growth, it gives layers to existing storylines and character relationships involving Wyatt, it explains his behavior and makes it more understandable, and it gives us needed representation.

My monkey brain adds that the opportunity for humor with this is also boundless and honestly I agree, good job monkey brain, you get a treat.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

[retransition]

I've been in therapy for two years and I've been doing gradual trauma therapy for about six months now with the same therapist. I identified as a trans man and I was on testosterone for almost three years. I stopped in December and I'm slowly planning to detransition. Going through trauma therapy I discovered my transition and gender dysphoria were trauma responses. It's a lot more complicated than that but that's the shortest summary.

And now I'm wondering about my sexuality. When I was about 13-15 around the time people normally figure themselves out I was fairly certain I was a lesbian. I had dated guys but never really liked them as much as I did girls. But my father was/is a complete homophobe. I was terrified of him finding out I was gay because I knew how he felt about gay people. I spent a lot of time upset and worried that I was going to hell because of it. It was horrible. But somehow I "grew out of it" and started to identify as bisexual. I'm not at all trying to say bisexuality isn't real or that being gay isn't real, I'm only talking about my own experiences. After that point I only dated men although in college I did have one time where I hooked up with a woman, but because I was so afraid of my father I just dated men. And I thought I was attracted to them.

I'm still going through trauma therapy (talk therapy along side EMDR when I can handle it) and my therapist pointed out to me how many red flags I have for sexual abuse. Even though I don't directly remember anything (I have large gaps of memory due to repressing trauma, whether you believe that's real or not idc because that's my experience) I have a lot of red flags. I was always terrified of men and I cried the first time I had sex. Fear crying. I never had this problem with women. I really suppressed the idea that I could have been abused and assumed it was normal or from my dad's sex shaming. I don't want to focus on the abuse factor but it's important.

I'm now wondering if I'm actually bisexual at all. If really I am a lesbian but I just repressed that as well, if my sexual attraction to men is what people call coercive heteronormativity? I don't know. Obviously I said I'm sexually attracted to men but for the most part my sexual attraction only came about following my first long term relationship with a male which did have a lot fo sexual problems and potential abuses and I felt compelled to be attracted to men, it's complicated to explain. How do I know if I'm really attracted to men or if that's just something I forced myself to do because of the other people in my life? Could i even call myself a lesbian?

I've only been with one woman sexually and it was not a good experience because it was while I was transgender and I experienced a lot of dysphoria over the whole situation. I understand now a lot of that was due to my trauma and my repressed gender confusion. I was very attracted to her! But I was ashamed of how I was attracted to her and was trying to force myself to be a man, which biologically I couldn't and any "tools" to help with that only made things worse. I still don't really understand why. I'm hoping to figure this out as I go.

Right now I do not Want to be attracted to men. I'm disgusted by them and scared of them. Any attraction I feel feels gross and twisted. A lot of times my desires for sex with men is really, really framed around abuse and self harm. I feel like it's just bad for me.

I don't really expect anyone to Read or reply to this but here it is. For me, for anyone else. I feel fairly certain of my gender now, but my sexuality is so confusing and I'm. Hoping as time passes and I work through more therapy I'll figure it out. For now it doesn't really matter since I'm not dating anyone. Okcupid was a bust. That's okay.

I want to research coercive hetrosexuality wmore and try to understand how that could have affected me. I only realized a few days ago how much my dad's homophobia traumatized me.

[mayardsale]

The sunshine that rested gently against the leather couch of my office signaled the halfway point of my day. April clearly intended to erase the pain and torture that January unleashed after an unrelenting November and December. Spring was in the air and my patients were clearly enjoying the season. I’d decided the previous summer that I’d give up the pace of the city that kept me awake 23 hours a day so that winter was an approval from above that I was headed in the right direction. And maybe I’d finally say yes to the not-so-subtle advances of my temptress spin-class instructor. That winter’s blanket of snow forced all of my couples to spend more time together and that made my job easier. As Erin and Jack gave me a goodbye hug, I wondered if they’d be okay without my counseling. “We owe you so much,” Erin tearfully exclaimed as she squeezed Jack’s hand. “We don’t want you to go, but I feel like you’ve taught us all that we needed to know about ourselves. We get each other now. We do.” That sentiment was repeated over and over that April. I was relieved that I could leave every relationship moving in a positive direction. My methods proved meaningful. My theories had been validated. And no couple had prospered more on that couch than my 2PM appointment, Tanya and Franklin. Honestly I didn’t have much hope for their relationship in the beginning. I wasn’t taking any new patients after my wife’s accident, but they simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. They touched a nerve with my assistant Melissa and she booked them an introductory appointment without telling me. From the outside they appeared to be a perfectly happy, normal couple, but they were complete opposites from my vantage point. And they always fought about sex. Tanya was the free spirit artist and Franklin was the bean-counting realist. Opposites attract but they have to understand their differences. Tanya and Franklin spent every minute of their relationship attempting to change themselves for each other. They had mastered this give and take so well that it took me 6 months to realize who they really were. Tanya was the manager at a bank and Franklin taught jazz piano at a prestigious university. Their previous counselors never realized who they really were because Tanya and Franklin were too busy being what the other wanted them to be. Tanya was an imposing woman at 5'10". Though she was the warm-hearted and bubbly life of the party, I was not surprised that she found herself intimidating to most people. Especially men. She totally accepted her character and flaunted her stature with fashionable heels and skirts that demanded attention. Franklin, on the other hand, had little idea that he would be considered intimidating by anyone. As a 6'1" health junky, professional athlete would be the first guess anyone would make against his chiseled physique. But once you learned that his body was the result of a battle with overeating as a youth, you could see that the book didn’t match the cover. My theories about relationships revolved around defining stereotypes and moving away from them until people understand what made them happy. Men are men and women are women. Until they’re not. Complexities in relationships occur when men and women don’t fit into neat stereotypes, outside expectations or simple biology. I landed on this simple premise when I realized that my same sex couples were used to figuring out ‘who believed what’ in the relationship. Every step of their relationship required negotiation with no default. With a man and a woman there are presumed beliefs that often go unspoken and thus unsettled. This was clearly the case with Tanya and Franklin. Their problem was that they were living the mirror of what they actually wanted. Tanya was a meticulous bean-counter in real-life, but wanted the spontaneity and whimsy that she saw in Franklin’s life. Franklin had very little guarantee that any day would ever be the same and longed for the consistency that Tanya appeared to be wrapped into at the bank. So my fix started with a simple assignment. Tanya would plan every aspect about their dates for a month except for one detail: the restaurant. Tanya would consult with her husband on every aspect along the way as she made here decisions - from what they’d wear to how they’d get there. Tanya would offer up two possible restaurants and leave it at that. Franklin’s only responsibility would be to choose which place and keep it as a surprise until they arrived. “That’s it,” Tanya complained nervously. For over six months they complained primarily about their intimacy concerns and I had them planning date nights. “My husband just told you that he’s jacking off to porn and ashamed to tell me and you want us to choose between Italian and Japanese!” “I don’t really like Japanese food,” Jack sheepishly joked. “Not the fucking point,” Tanya bit back. “Try it for a month,” I quietly prescribed as I closed my notebook. “We’ll check back in and see how it’s going.” Fuming, Tanya grabbed her bag while Franklin followed her out of my office. Melissa recognized the tension as they passed through the office to the elevator. “Date night?” she asked already knowing the answer. A month later, Tanya and Franklin returned. “So what’s up?” I eagerly questioned them once they settled onto the couch. For forty-five minutes Tanya and Franklin described their dates along with their prescribed planning. Tanya was a force of nature with respect to organization as she left no detail unresolved. From what shoes Franklin wore to where they might sit in any given restaurant. They openly discussed their likes and dislikes until the day of the date. The surprise of the restaurant or concert or event would remain until they arrived. Of their nine planned dates, two had to be postponed because of some emergency or another. On one date Franklin gave away the surprise by asking too many questions about the chef at one restaurant. But in all, the assignment proved fruitful. As they spoke I kept an overly upbeat demeanor that probably confused them. “Excellent!” I bounded after they completed their recap. “We’ve had 9 really amazing date nights,” Tanya opened, “but that’s not really why we’re here.” “Don’t get us wrong,” Franklin chimed in. “We definitely talked more and enjoyed being out, but that spark didn’t translate at home. You know. In the bedroom.” “Interesting,” I replied in confusion. “Tanya, did you enjoy planning every detail of your dates?” “Not really, but I would do anything to make this work,” Tanya answered. “Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal because I do it every day, all day at work.” “Was it a problem for you to not know where you’d ultimately end up?” I asked as I leaned into Tanya. “Actually, that was the exciting part,” Tanya responded with a flicker of understanding. “He even blindfolded me so I …” “Franklin,” I interrupted as Tanya trailed off, “did you like having the evening fully planned out?” “I guess,” Franklin answered as though I had asked something deeper. “As we planned each date I thought more about it before the day arrive.” “Did that anticipation make the food taste better?” I asked as I stared at my notebook. “Yes,” Franklin acknowledged. “Tanya,” I volleyed, “how was the food at the restaurant when you figured out where he was taking you 3 days before?” “It was okay,” she replied. “I didn’t love it.” “Franklin,” I jumped again, “how was your day at work after those nights when your plans were cancelled.” “Terrible!” Franklin happily exclaimed as he recognized the pattern. “So our next assignment will be …” Tanya pushed me as they clasped hands like many clients before them. “For the next month, Tanya will schedule every sexual activity that you two discuss with two potential … executions,” I offered. “The discussion, build-up and anticipation of your interaction will drive Franklin mad while the surprise of what actually happens will boil Tanya’s blood.” Tanya and Franklin sat on my couch with their mouths wide open. “Just remember,” I added as I stared deeply into Tanya’s eyes while speaking to Franklin. “Tanya needs spontaneity and surprise to make this work. You may need to bring a few unrequested surprises to the party to keep her entertained.” “And Tanya,” I continued, “you must understand that Franklin’s anticipation must ultimately be quenched or the tease will be answered with resentment instead of joy.” Tanya nodded, but I wanted to make sure she understood when I added, “Don’t leave him hanging.” As they exited my office I was satisfied with where they were headed, but they would overachieve like no other couple I’ve encountered. “We fucked on our patio this morning,” Tanya joyously exclaimed just as my office door closed. Franklin simply smiled with content. “I gave him the choice of a blowjob in the shower or fucking me on the patio two days ago. We texted about it nonstop until he simply pulled me out of bed this morning and propped me against our patio window. FUCK!!” “So all is well,” I acknowledged. For months our sessions were filled with the most explicit acts of lust that my office would ever hear. On the days when one of them would come to the office solo because the other was traveling, they would feel the need to raise their level of detail. “Anal plug or ball gag?” Franklin quizzed me on a Friday afternoon. Where most couples would have shared how things were better, Tanya and Franklin bolstered about how they were now planning sexual escapades out by months in advance. Other couples I found more challenging, but there was definitely a magnetic chemistry between these two that was blossoming now. They understood what made the other tick. Honestly, their breakthrough, along with their openness of constant stories of desire and pleasure, gave me the strength to plan my move out west. “Six months? We have to do something BIG!” Tanya exclaimed when I shared with them my plans to close my office. “You have done so much for us.” “How about Barista vs Bartender?” Franklin offered up with a devious look on his face. “Are you sure?” Tanya answered with an equal sense of menace. “Barista vs Bartender?” I asked, no longer wanting to be an outsider to the conversation. “Before we came to you,” Franklin started, “Tanya and I discussed opening up our marriage. We knew we weren’t strong enough as a couple to handle it but we were out of ideas. Now that we’ve been enjoying this magical ride we’ve been putting all sorts of crazy ideas back on the table. We’ve always had options like threesomes on the table, but they sat next to two more conservative ideas.” “That way we’d have a way out if we got cold feet,” Tanya explained. “But we’ve been dancing around the idea of Tanya giving a blowjob to either the barista near my office that flirts with her when she comes to visit me or the bartender near her office that flirts with her when I visit her,” Franklin glowingly recalled as he shifted his pants to disguise the hard-on that was growing from their description. “Quite a big step,” I commended them knowing that the anticipation was really what drove them. Should they actually act on the idea or not, their talking about it was giving both of them indescribable pleasure. “Next April. Barista vs Bartender,” Tanya and Franklin quietly spoke to each other as if I weren’t in the room. I was a little nervous that they were going to fuck right there in front of me. Wouldn’t have shocked me one bit. And then winter came and life got back to normal. All of my couples were forced to spend time together discussing their issues and enjoying solutions - dressed or naked. When the snow finally melted and spring arrived, a sense of romance captured everyone’s hearts. I was finally building up the nerve to go out with my spin-class instructor even though I’d be leaving in two months. Better late than never. Though we hadn’t discussed 'Barista vs Bartender’ in several months, the thought had always been in the background. I knew they hadn’t forgotten about it, but the topic hadn’t been raised in front of me. Until March. “I have a surprise for Tanya,” Franklin announced after Tanya detailed their plans for this summer in South America. “I asked some of my students to do some recon for me. Tanya, please check your email.” Tanya pulled out her phone and opened her personal email. She had a puzzled look on her face and then she bit her upper lip. “Oh my,” she melted. “I asked two of my attractive female students to request dic-pics from the Barista and the Bartender,” Franklin explained. “Appears that the two young men were happy to oblige. Tanya, any thoughts?” I had never felt more uncomfortable in my life. I had always heard about these conversations after the episode. Never before the act. This was definitely new territory. “Well, I have to say,” Tanya thought aloud, “I’m still not sure if I want you to watch me sucking one of these dicks or if I’d prefer to tell you about it after. Either way, I’d definitely swallow either one of them. I also don’t know if I’d make it a show - ya know, get naked, lap dance, etc - or just unzip and start squeezing.” “How about we talk about it on the ride home?” Franklin said as he saw how uncomfortable I was becoming. “We’ve got a couple of weeks to decide.” As they left my office this time, Melissa scheduled their last appointment. I definitely needed to take my spin-class that afternoon. While I did a pretty decent job keeping focus for the next couple of weeks, I must admit that the couple before Tanya and Franklin had very little of my mindspace. I was anxious to know what happened with the Barista or the Bartender or both. Had they already finished the act? Did they even go through with it? I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Then Tanya entered my office alone. “Franklin had to go to London for a week,” Tanya explained as she settled into the couch for one last session. My face must have been full of disappointment to see her solo, so she began to share more. “So, I told Franklin that I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to go through with this Barista vs Bartender thing. The anticipation was unbelievable over this last six months. But the reality of it all is a different vibe.” I nodded my head as I understood her dilemma. “He told me he wasn’t exactly certain how he felt when I dropped him off at the airport,” Tanya continued. “I feel like we discussed every possibility of this scenario and I’m not sure why we are still on the fence. I’ve dreamed of sucking off both the Bartender and the Barista. Sometimes when I’m sucking Franklin’s dick I imagine it’s either one of theirs. I just can’t decide what to do anymore,” Tanya proclaimed. “Maybe the anticipation is really all that you two needed,” I said in hopes of settling her confusion. “You two have come a long way in …” I began to explain when her phone began to vibrate. “It’s Franklin,” Tanya exhaled as she opened her text. I was trying not to be nosy but I felt like I had as much right to know as she did. The air in the room was being baked by the midafternoon sun and I began to sweat until a big smile and a sigh of relief came from Tanya. As she typed back her response, I could see her mouth the question, “Are you sure?” while she bit her upper lip. She then looked up at me in silence as she awaited his response. We smiled nervously at each other. In seconds, her phone buzzed and she sighed, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I offered, when I really wanted to know whether it was the Barista or the Bartender. But before I could ask, Tanya cleared her throat and said, “Franklin wants me to do it naked but with heels on while he’s in London. He wants to hear all about it when he gets home.” I then attempted to unravel here statement to decipher whether her act would involve the Barista or the Bartender. That’s when Tanya walked towards me and dropped her skirt to the floor. Her purple lace thong concealed very little as she stopped just in front of me. With little hesitation, Tanya dropped to her knees in front of my chair and released my hardening dick from my pants with her blue and white manicured nails. “Thank you for everything,” Tanya smiled up at me just before pushing my dick deep into her mouth as Melissa opened the door and watched. Surprise.

[eimagines]

spare me // tate langdon

pairing: tate langdon x reader genre: angsty and a little fluffy summary: pre-dead!tate makes a friend during a very dark time. warnings: potentially trigging content and possibly romanticises self-mutilation. word count: 4600

a/n: I wrote this in 2014 so it is a bit shit and problematic and by a bit I mean a lot but I wanted to post something to start this blog. expect better.

You ran hazy-eyed into the men's bathroom, tears discarding your vision. With trembling knees and shaky hands, you managed to find yourself locked in an empty stall, unaware of the blond boy smoking you passed by beforehand. You brought your legs right up to your chest, your tears draining from your eyes and toppling over your reddened cheeks.

The bullying had always been there for you, it didn't always bother you and you never tried to answer back, choosing to ignore them and carry on with your day. However, today had gotten violent and you had tried with all your might to fight them off, only there was three against one. Very brave of them.

Unable to stop yourself you took out a blade from your pocket. You didn't know why you had brought it to school, but you felt better with it, almost as if the blade gave you a sense of hope and shielded you from the unwanted taunts. 

Pressing the blade deep into your arm and moving it across multiple times, you sucked in a staggering breath, watching as the blood from your arm slid down in smooth maroon lines and splashed creating a small pool of blood on the dirty toilet floor. Looking at all of that blood was like a small dose of Heaven for you; a euphoria painted from blood within your own veins.

"Y'know you shouldn't do that in school." You heard a voice say from outside the chipped green coloured door. You were startled at first but soon realised it was a bathroom, and people did need to do the ‘do’ here. Before you could process his words and reply the stranger spoke again. "You wanna come out?" His voice was soft and calm, unlike any you had heard before. You saw a glimpse of his combat boots from under the gap in the door and felt very intrigued as to who the stranger was.

You unlocked the door slowly, leaving your sleeves of your dark green jumper to fall down by themselves and your blade to be abandoned on the floor. Making sure your legs were steady, you emerged from the stall. The stranger was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you, a cigarette in his mouth and a box of matches in his hand. You had to admit, as much as you were wary of the stranger, you were very interested in him.

His blond curls fell into his dark brown eyes that looked as if they were searching your soul for an ounce of something that interested him. To your surprise, he didn't speak, but stood and turned on the tap from the sinks behind him. His cigarette remained unlit as he continued his task of dampening some paper towels and cooing you towards him. "Let me see them." He stated as more of a command. You had never shown anyone your self-harm scars and cuts before and you stayed where you were. The stranger noticed how wary you were and smiled in a much more understanding way than a pitiful one and you appreciated that.

Looking closer into his eyes, bags marking them as there own, you thought he looked as though he had carried a great deal of shit on his back lately. He took your arm and pulled up your sleeve, stained blood littering your arm and jumper. You winced as he pressed a damp paper towel across your wound. "You wouldn't want it to get infected." You wondered why he was helping you but before you could speak up he spoke again, in a much cheerier tone than his last, "I'm Tate. Tate Langdon."

You smiled at him the best you could. You'd heard his name before. Apparently, not a lot of people liked him around here which was utterly a mystery to you because you thought he seemed like a lovely boy. "And you are?" He asked as he finished cleaning your arm for you and lighting his cigarette. "I-I'm [Y/N][Y/SN]." You replied in a much more nervous way that you had hoped you would. "Well, [Y/N], cutting in school isn't the most sensible thing to do." "Neither is smoking." You replied sassily taking him by surprise. You thought he was going to think you were horrible after that but he just smirked and sat up on the sinks. You followed suit. "To be honest, I don't really care if it was sensible or not. Cutting isn't healthy in general. In school or not." "So why'd you do it then?" Tate asked, passing you his cigarette which you took a drag on thankfully. "I'm not entirely sure." "I understand. I did it too. It's sort of as though when you do it nothing else matters but all that blood y'know. You can forget about all the other shit." You nodded in agreement, taken back by how you managed to connect with his words.

He passed you a cigarette of your own and you took it with a nod. "Why did you help me?" You asked suddenly, breaking the silence between you two. "Well, for one, I couldn't just ignore a crying girl slicing her arm open in the men's bathroom whilst I contemplated my sanity. Two, I heard a lot of shit going down in the hallway before and I know how you feel and three..." You almost laughed at his ability to be so straightforward until you realised he had stopped and was staring at you. "Three?" You asked, eager to know. "You're really cute." He replied, smiling revealing his dimples. It suddenly dawned on you how attractive he was and you blushed at his compliment. "Thank you, you're not too bad yourself." You smirked and sighed. "You wanna get outta here?" Tate asked you suddenly. "As in the toilet or school in general?" You smiled, jumping down from the sinks and wiping your tear stains you assumed were there from your face. You thought of how kind Tate was for complimenting you, even when you were a wreck. "School? I think you mean shit-filled Hell-hole." He laughed, giving you concerned looks at your still bleeding arm and your look of shame as you walked away from the blade you had abandoned. "You shouldn't feel ashamed." Tate advised you, somehow knowing exactly what you were thinking, "Everyone deals with pain in different ways. And that's okay." "I know, it's just...God," you sighed, "I never wanted to be the girl that depended on someone else to take care of her mental stability. I didn't want to be a victim and to try and make that somehow a positive by getting a cute boy involved." Tate smirked at this. "You ain't a victim. You're a human." He smiled as you both ventured out into the school halls.

The bell had already gone, leaving the school halls completely barren, the usual daunting sounds of pale grey lockers slamming and endless bickering silenced by the welcoming sounds of birds amongst the outside world. You weren't new to skipping school due to fake sick days, however, you had never simply walked out before. It gave you a sense of pride to be able to leave willingly with a cute boy by your side.

Just as the feeling of doubt set in you noticed a group of kids who looked older than you; the rowdy popular footballing type. You prayed that your school skipping would be easy enough but it obviously wasn't that simple. As the guys started to shout things at Tate, heading straight towards the both of you, you rolled your eyes, gaining a little confidence by telling them to shut up. They ooo'd sarcastically at you, unable to focus their tiny minds on how annoyed Tate looked. It scared you a little. Tate thought it was nice you had tried to stick up for him considering you were a little shy, and carried on away from the group of idiots, hoping if they were loud enough eventually a member of staff would find them. The group didn't follow you and Tate off Campus which made you feel a little bang of rebelliousness bubbling inside you.

The walk Tate was taking you on was unfamiliar and you couldn't stop your eyes from taking in its beauty. Fields of green separated neatly with dried muddy paths that were lined with colourful flowers, butterflies and bees buzzing brilliantly, swimming in the sea of colour and pollen. It was cold yet the Sun still shone brightly, light hitting yours and Tate's face, making you focus on his features. Your eyes raked across his tall form. You knew not a thing about this boy but his name yet here you were, strolling along like you'd known him for years. The realisation of him being a stranger filled you with a dangerous feeling that you liked and you didn't understand why. Perhaps it was because of who the stranger was.

Soon enough you came to a small clearing where the grass was cut shorter in front of a huge willow tree, its vines long, almost touching the green of the floor's surface. Tate guided you amongst the vines of the tree, swaying past them swiftly and planting himself down beneath them. You joined him, taken away with the peace.

"How did you find this place?" You asked, taken aback. "Skipped school one day years ago and found it. I come here when I need to think." He said simply smiling sweetly at you. You returned the smile and continued, "So why did you bring me here?" "Because you need to think." "About what?" "About why you do that to yourself." He pointed to your arm, "What do you get out of it? Why? Can you stop? If not, why? Y'know. It's not a nice thing to do. I know it isn't. It isn't the only option." You did think. You thought for a while. And after a long time in blissful silence, you turned to Tate, finally fixed on how you were to turn your life around. To your surprise, Tate was sitting cross-legged picking up daisies and looping them through each other.

"Uh, Tate?" You smirked. "What?" He laughed, sensing your smile. "Nothing." You shrugged, instead, collecting yourself and sitting in front of his frame, helping him complete the end of his daisy chain and tying the ends together. "It is complete!" Tate raised his voice in a strange accent which amused you as he placed the daisy crown he had made onto your head, fixing your hair perfectly behind your ears. You smiled awkwardly, wondering how you could possibly feel so open around someone you just met.

"You like Kurt Cobain?" You ask, noticing his similarities to the nirvana member. Tate looked happy to answer the question and you both spent the afternoon joking around under the tree, singing and talking about what you each liked to do. You found out that Tate actually ran track at school and you both enjoyed reading. It seemed you had finally found a friend.

Pretty soon, however, the darkness began to fall and the moon persuaded the sun to fuck off and make some room. "Where do you live?" You asked Tate as you both proceeded towards your own home. "939 Berro Drive." Tate replied awkwardly. "Murder House huh?" He nodded in reply, "Cool. You got any siblings?" "Yeah, I have three." He continued to tell you about his siblings. About his father abandoning him. His mother's neglect and his constant fear of tipping over the edge and losing his mind. You were speechless at first of course but reassured him none-the-less. "You shouldn't stress yourself, take a break from the shit, get your mind away from your troubles." You smiled. "You're right. I did that today actually." He smiled at you. "What do you mean?" "Your pretty face distracted me." He chuckled and you shoved him, finally appearing at your run-down home.

It was much different than Tate's. The house was small and dirty with a tiny garden that was overrun with towering grass. The windows were hazy and the painted wooden window ledges were chipped and falling apart. You sighed in annoyance as you had to say goodbye to Tate and unlocked your rusted metal gate to make sure your father hadn't killed himself from alcohol poisoning. "Hey," Tate held your arm as you began to walk away from him, "I'll see you round okay? Tomorrow I'll take you for pizza on the beach?" "Deal." You smiled, leaving Tate with a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'thank you'. You were content with the goodbye but hurt at the look in Tate's eyes.

You could not sleep that night as you tossed and turned to the sound of your fathers’ snores which gradually got louder; your scrap metal of a bed creaking as you impatiently awaiting what could possibly be an okay Saturday for once. Your mind drifted off to Tate. Tate Langdon. He was, well, wonderful. There was something about him however that worried you. The look in Tate's eyes when you said goodbye was sad, but it hinted something else. Something dark and menacing and you wondered why? It's not as if that sweet charm of a boy could do anything menacing, could he?

-

The weekend, of course, went fantastic at first. You didn't think you had ever been so happy. You and Tate spent Saturday trying to skateboard in the local mall and messing around together. You both ended up getting kicked out after taking stupid pictures together wearing silly hats and moustache's which you hadn't paid for, even though you were still in the store that you found them in. It was very amusing to you both. As agreed, you both went to the beach with pizza and sat yourselves in front of a burning hot fire as you talked endlessly about meaningless things.

"Oh, I forgot to give you this." You said as you bit into another slice of pizza and dug through your bag to pull out a little black and white bracelet. It was leather bound with a "T" engraved. You handed it to him nervously. "I know its weird since we only met a while ago but, you helped me a lot and I don't think I've ever had a friend before and, well, I couldn't remember how to smile until I met you." Tate looked shocked, which made you nervous, "I just wanted to say thank you. You don't have to wear it or anything if you don't want to I just thought that-" "I love it." Tate cut you off smirking, "I really really love it." He pulled you into a delicate hug, his arms caressing your form lightly as you relished in the comfort. He smelled like cigarettes and peaches and you smiled into his chest. "You're adorable, but I feel bad for not getting you anything." He said once the hug was over and done with. "You dork, do you not understand? You did give me something...you gave me happiness." You smiled shyly at him.

In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just kiss his perfect face, but it ended all too soon when Sunday came.

You had agreed to meet Tate at the mall at 12, yet you sat waiting alone until 1. You had bought cookies and a slush to share, but the person you were to share them with was nowhere to be seen. You didn't want to leave in case Tate turned up. Even if you did, you wouldn't know where to go and home was not the nicest of places. You thought calling him would be a good idea, however, without a phone or a number it was impossible. As it got close to 3pm you had no choice but to leave and sit in the library.

Books were your escape. You had to admit, you were worried. Worried in case Tate had gotten hurt, worried in case the bracelet and hug you shared had creeped him out and he would not go near you again. You forced the thoughts out by reading. Alone. Silent. Without a care. 'I shouldn't worry,' you thought, 'Tate will be fine.'

Except, Tate wasn't fine.

-

It was Monday morning and school was just another obstacle in your seemingly drastic life but you pushed on through. It seemed like a regular Monday, other than the fact you had a horrible feeling in your gut. The feeling only grew stronger as your first lessons had begun. The only thing you could think about at this moment was Tate. Would you ever see those ocean deep brown eyes, those perfect blond Cobain styled curls, that dorky little smile? Yes. You would. But in completely different circumstances than you originally thought.

As you tapped your foot in time with the clock on the wall, 11:30, ignoring the paper being thrown across the room by a kid called Kevin and the teacher attempting to calm down your class of fifteen. All too quickly had things changed from fun and games when a loud bang was heard outside the closed classroom door. Your heartbeat raised ecstatically as another bang erupted from outside in the hall along with the screams of pupils. Over the screaming pupils and shouting teacher, you didn't know what to do. As loud as everything was, all you heard was silence as a third shot rang out and the person behind it all stepped into view.

Tate.

He wore a Prussian blue American Civil War Union soldier coat and held a shotgun tightly in his hands. His face was plain and held more sorrow than you had ever seen before. He did not look sorry, he did not look scared, he did not look like anything. He was just...there. He pointed the gun at one student and pulled the trigger, blood amidst in the air like snow in the winter. The fact he had caused four deaths didn't seem to have bothered him a single bit. He continued around the class, a frenzy of bullets, screams and blood followed. A couple of students managed to escape as he continued his massacre. This could not be the same boy you had been friends with, could it?

"Please, stop this!" "What good are you doing!" "Why are you doing this!" The voices were endless and every one of them ended with a shot. The screams soon withered away and Tate caught your eye. He couldn't, could he? He raised the shotgun towards you, his lips pressed tightly together and his hand trembled. You did not blink or close your eyes, you did not beg or plead with him or question why, you simply looked into his eyes and gave him a weak smile. "Tate." You started, however you were unable to finish. His grip on the shotgun loosened and fell. He did not speak or explain. He just left.

You looked around at the blood covered classroom and tried to ignore the remains of your dead classmates as you stood up wearily and followed Tate threw the school. "[Y/N]," the voice of one of your teachers quietly spoke out to you, "Follow me, we can get out of here!" "No." You replied simply and followed Tate's footsteps quickly.

It wasn't quick enough. After the shots of six bullets, you walked into the library to find five bodies and one unconscious teacher. The blood never normally bothered you but right now it really did. You walked out of the exit Tate had gone through and followed him quickly, picking up your pace as you sprinted towards him. "Tate!" You shouted, not knowing why you weren't afraid of being potentially killed amongst the presence of him. "What!" He shouted back, coming to a holt on what you assumed was the way back to his home.

He wasn't himself. You knew that. Something had happened to push him over the edge. He had no empathy or regret in his voice. He did not look scared or sad. He was giving off signs of a full mental breakdown.

Once you reached him you didn't ask him anything out of courtesy, but chose instead to wrap your arms around his form and pull him into a hug. This was when his emotions finally gave into him. His tears fell from his eyes and did not stop for a long time. The shotgun he once had was now abandoned on the floor and he cried into your neck. Your ripped up baggy jeans were covered in blood as were Tate's. You caressed his hair lovingly and held him for a while. As he had done to you.

"I'm sorry." He sobbed. He attempted to ramble out an explanation for why he did it but you could tell whatever had happened was sure playing with his mind because he still didn't seem the same. "I don't care why you did it, Tate. Okay? We need to get you out of here, the cops will come and then- then-" "Yeah, I know!" He shouted through his tears, "Just leave okay? If they come they'll arrest you too. Just go!" "No!" You shouted back, "Why did you leave me? Why didn't you shoot me like everyone else?" You asked, your voice more delicate now. "Because." Tate replied. "Because what?" "Because nobody has ever been as nice to me as you before. Nobody I've ever known has listened to me ramble about stupid things. Nobody I know likes Kurt Cobain like you do. I like you, [Y/N]." I wiped his tears from his face and hugged him close. "I like you too. Maybe not at this point entirely but, I like you too. Dork." You smiled sadly, knowing the fate Tate had chosen.

It was silent between you both for a long time until Tate had to physically remove you from him to go into his house. "Wait!" You shouted, running up the path to where he was stood, shotgun in hand. You moved a strand of blond hair out of his eyes and stood on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his gently. Tate was not at all surprised and kissed you back immediately. You don't know what overcame you. Perhaps you knew that you would most likely never see Tate again. Perhaps it was just because you craved the familiar taste of cigarettes and peaches. Even though it lasted shorter than you would have liked, it was the best damn kiss you ever had. It sent sparks flying up your spine and your heart did little flips.

With a tight squeeze of your hand, Tate said his goodbyes. His final goodbyes? It was never spoken between you two, but you knew it would happen and you had to come to terms with the fact you would possibly never see him again. You only allowed the tears to fall once Tate was officially out of site. Tate died later on that day. He was shot and killed by the SWAT team.

-

You had never met Tate's mother, but you thought to bring her flowers was the best thing to do. It was a week after Tate had died when you knocked on the door of the famous Murder House and you had become nervous. The door soon swung open revealing a distressed looking blonde woman. "I told you to leave me alone!" She almost screamed, looking shocked to see you standing at the door holding flowers. "Sorry, I don't mean to intrude, I just brought you some flowers." "Do I know you?" She replied, rudely, although it looked as if she didn't mean it offensively. "No, sorry. My name is [Y/N], I was a friend of Tate's." You explained, nervously. "Right, come in." You were stunned by how beautiful the house was and took everything in in a state of awe. You noticed tonnes of boxes piled sky high and dared not to ask. "Would you like a cigarette? Tate told me you liked them." "He spoke about me?" You asked, taking one thankfully and allowing her to light it for you politely. "Only once, but he seemed very fond of you." She spoke with a smile. You didn't find it hard to believe how she neglected Tate.

"I am sorry for your losses. I wish none of this would have happened." You spoke after a minute longs silence. You, by all means, hated what Tate had done. It was not an okay thing to do, however, you did feel very sad. Sad because you knew Tate didn't just do it because he could. He had a reason in his own messed up mind. A reason that was probably overlooked in the end. As much as you tried to fight the guilt, it was still there. You felt awful for not seeing that something was wrong, for not doing anything to stop Tate from falling over the edge. It was too late now though.

"Why? Everyone seemed so adamant about thanking the lord that the world was ridden of him." She replied, it was obvious she was hurt, after all, she had lost two of her children and people had been overjoyed about it. You thought about how the public had obviously had backlash at what Tate had done, yet you vowed to forget about what had happened. "Because. Tate was my friend. And, in my opinion, nobody deserves to be treated the way you and your family are being treated because of what happened." You avoiding eye contact as you took a drag of your cigarette. "I should be going, if you'll excuse me I-" "Thank you. For the flowers. And for your kindness." Tate's mother spoke, still seated at the table the both of you had been chatting at. She looked at you with a hopeful expression and a weak smile, her eyes welling up. "No problem. Thank you for your time, and the cigarette." You smiled back, making your own way out of the house, not for one second expecting her to see you out. She was grieving and you appreciated this.

As you stood facing the huge house. You smiled. You smiled in memory of your first friend. Your first real friend. The first person to have shown you any compassion, any humour, any kindness, any love in your entire lifetime. The first person to make you feel content with life. You vowed not to cry and to move on with your life as you fiddled with a leather-bound bracelet around your wrist than had the letter "[first initial of your name]" engraved on it. It matched the one Tate had. You kept the smile on your face as you turned your back towards the house and collided with a fast and hard object, sending your lifeless body into the air and smashing back down against the hard sidewalk.

The images that flashed before you were confusing. Screams, blood, sirens. Everything seemed confusing and before your eyes completely closed, they set themselves on a blond-haired figure leaning up against the familiar brick wall of the Murder House.

As your last breath left your body and your spirit was dragged into an eternity of trapped housing, you wondered what was exactly in store for you. The first image you saw when you awoke in a seemingly dark cement walled building was a red ball rolling past your head and the familiar voice of a certain Kurt Cobain looking teenage boy telling you that you looked like a dork when you died.

'So it wasn't a final goodbye after all.'

[it-goes-both-ways]

Over the last few years I've been posting more and more of my actual views, which I'm not exactly ashamed of but realise they're not so much unpopular opinions as downright rejected ones. I pretty much know why I have them, I'm aware of my biases and make every effort to restrict them to words, not allowing them to affect my relationships or treatment of others, restricting the hyperbole and rants to this blog and my long suffering partner. Unfortunately I seem to attract the worst kind of women in real life, which is not at all helping. Every time I reveal something I worry about being rejected, told I'm a monster, a failure, a disgrace, an embarrassment, but each and every time I've gotten nothing but acceptance. I am greatly honoured by your support thus far, for tolerating my increasingly frustrated outbursts and hope I won't push you away with this, but it's been all consuming for almost my whole life, and part of “cleaning up my room” is putting all that baggage out there to be scrutinised and hopefully understood, sometimes all that is needed is a willing ear, suppression only breeding resentment and isolation.

All the bullshit feminism has caused, from protesting the male pill and shutting down shared parenting efforts to the Duluth model and erasing men who are raped by women or by counting them under "violence against women" stats to boost the female victim numbers. Mary Koss, the progenitor of the 1 in 5/4/3/-69/ π r2 stat claiming that it's "inappropriate" to consider male victims of forceful envelopment by women as they are merely ambivalent about their own desires. Lobbying for laws that regard mutually drunk sexual encounters as automatically rape by men, underage consensually sexually active couples (even if they're months away from age of consent or the girl is older) as child rape on the part of the boy, guilty until proven innocent, accusation is the evidence, kangaroo courts, sentencing discounts on top of the preexisting bias which causes a 63% disparity and difference in treatment to the point where if you take every step of the justice system into account the crime rate is pretty damned even (with women often using proxy violence so they have plausible deniability, and avoid responsibility/physical risk). Treating women as the definitive victims of prostitution no matter which side of the transaction they're on. Banning men from charity fundraising events, transpeople only allowed if they provide evidence that they are biologically female. Having the NHS class women choosing to have genital piercings as being victims of female genital mutilation, while male genital mutilation performed at birth is not so much as frowned upon let alone illegal by any single country on the entire twatting planet. In fact you can buy some baby foreskins if you want to, or rub them on your face, the target market being protected from the very process that brought them their anti-ageing face cream, complaining that it costs more than men's moisturiser.

The innate gynocentrism of humanity has always led to women being their top priority, now even above children, it tries to pander, and acquiesce to their every demand while being told it hates them. The cases like the woman who filmed herself raping her own baby and getting the oh so harsh sentence of community bloody service and house arrest. The "poor, neglected" woman whose husband had become distant from her (wonder why) so she raped her son's friend, whose punishment was being banned from his school, which she considered too harsh as she missed her son's graduation. An audience of hundreds of normal regular women cheering and celebrating a man being drugged by his wife, who then cut off his penis and threw it in the "garbage disposal" permanently destroying it, just for asking for a divorce (can't think why he'd want to leave), despite no further context it was declared "fabulous" to the ecstatic jubilation of the empathetic sex. There's the idea that men commit the vast majority of rapes while calling female teachers "seducing" their students mere trysts, shameful liaisons that do not deserve prison, female prison guards committing the overwhelming majority of rape of male children and youths in juvenile detention (89%), among other women who rape men and boys (my own mother being one of them), this in addition to the rape rate among female prisoners being 3 times that of male ones, not a single damned thing is done about the propagation of the bullshit narrative. Somehow the fact that female rapists tend to target children is irrelevant because male ones target adult women, and "you don't see women going around raping adult men" (even though the stats are still around 50/50 because it's a human problem, unless those women are exhibiting toxic masculinity or something). There's the 10,000 men and boys slaughtered in their schools by Boko Haram while girls were released and allowed to go home, the boys being set on fire, their throats slit, or shot if trying to escape, no one giving the slightest hint of the merest ghost of a toss, until they realised that they weren't getting the attention they craved so they kidnapped girls, causing an international outcry and the media/celebrities changing their motivation from "eradicate western education" to "oppress women and stop them getting an education". There's the refusal by both the left and the right to look beyond the plight of women when it comes to Islam, they not only ignore the laws which oppress men, but declare those men the "real" misogynist patriarchal oppressors and innately sociopathic rapists. There's the refusal to recognise that women are a part of society and have far more influence than anyone wants to admit. There's Muslim men's obligation towards women, the segregation in Saudi where they have many public places from which men are banned unless accompanied by a female family member, where they'll be arrested for accompanying a woman to whom he is not related while the woman is merely sent home, where men face potentially fatal consequences for the same "crimes". Where homeless boys in Pakistan are pretty much guaranteed to be repeatedly raped day after day.

Then in my own life, being 6 or 7 years old, my sister 8 or 9 and told to stay put as our Reliant Robin went up in flames, having to be pulled out by a stranger, a man, because we were more afraid of disobeying than of burning to death, mother not even sparing us a glance as she grieved the loss of her car, later keeping it in the garden like some sort of shrine. Around the same year, at an LRP event (Lorien Trust's The Gathering), being left in the tent alone late at night and going to look for her, finding her on top of an unconscious man, she at least picked up on the fact that I was revelling in her severe hangover the next morning. Sneaking downstairs one night to see the aftermath of one of her "encounters", the man was broken, so started my extreme protectiveness of men and distrust of women, to the point of being called a gender traitor for the first time at around 7 years old by my 60+ year old year 1 teacher (who also wouldn't allow me to use left handed scissors or to write left handed, unwittingly making me ambidextrous. Being left with a violent babysitter who made me sleep under the table, or on the floor beside her bed (despite having 4 bloody beds), who wouldn't let me eat since burning the toast, beat me for asking for a glass of water and wouldn't even allow me to drink out of the tap, she once threw me in a wheely bin and poured dishwater over me, mother was in the garden just a few doors down, yet did nothing. She’d always try and get her boyfriends to beat us but they always just laughed it off (they’d put up with abuse themselves but never lasted long after she started bringing us into it), one in particular was into BDSM and later got mother a job as a dominatrix (she was disappointed by our complete lack of surprise), and even he had to draw the line at demonstrating how sexual intercourse works to his girlfriend’s 6 and 8 year old daughters.

My sister and I as little more than toddlers, mother putting our onesies on backwards so we couldn't take them off, having to go to the loo with them still on. Having the door handles put on upside down so that we couldn't reach up enough to open it to get to the loo so we ended up pissing ourselves. Having a daily diet of four slices of bread and the cheapest of generic vegetable spread as we weren't allowed mother's butter, being starved as punishment or just because she felt like it (having won custody of us only to spite dad), leading to malabsorption and osteoarthritis at the grand old age of twenty bloody six (3 years ago now), once a week we got an actual meal. Being around 8 or 9, visiting my auntie who was in hospital after having a stroke, having already had MS she was left paralysed, just 23 years old, granddad put together a system for her to speak by grouping letters and having her blink once for the stated grouping or letter or twice for basically undo. I gave her my only teddy which I carried everywhere, a stuffed donkey I got from Spain, she kept it. Staying in her house, continuing my habit of accidentally setting fire to the toaster, being left alone most of the night and going to look for mother in the village pub, finding her in one of her drinking competitions, walking in and vagblocking her, much to her frustration and anger. Being treated like a replacement husband, even trying to talk me into having a sex change despite only mild dysphoria, which was later greatly lessened by having an implant which stopped periods, eliminating most of the feeling of wrong (most cases of sex change regret are people who were abused, either treated like shit for their biological sex, treated as if they are opposite sex, or sexual abuse). Hearing about how the only way she'd get any when she was with dad was when he was asleep. Why did he end up dying a slow, agonising death while she gets to carry on regardless? Asking me about who I liked, later discovering exactly why she wanted to know, a man I care about was raped because I didn’t pick up on her ulterior motives. Having mother and her friends try to teach me to manipulate men, get them to pay for me, trying to turn me into a gold digger, only making me hate them even more. Coming of age (16), no longer eligible for child benefit, mother having been visiting friends more and more often until she didn't come back, only finding out that she'd been gradually moving out when we got the eviction order.

I'd been training myself to eventually join the army from the age of 5, once when I was 6 mother had asked me to go to the supermarket to get a bag of potatoes, she usually got a 20kg sack, must have taken me an hour to get it home, a man helping me carry it some of the way. When I finally enlisted I had to stop taking codeine for the malabsorption, it wasn't as much of a problem if I was eating every day (I usually forget as my body had been conditioned by neglect, not even bothering to remind me to eat any more), my hips had always made crunching and cracking sounds when I move, but as my body adjusted to the lack of codiene the pain became unbearable, upon being diagnosed with osteoarthritis I had to give up any hope of ever being a soldier, I've lost my purpose, and have nothing to replace it with, couldn't even work a whole shift when I got a factory job, humiliating, I'd informed the woman of my condition and she'd assured me that it was just a machinist job. It wasn't. It was everything you shouldn't do if you have any sort of hip problems. I'd never felt such agony and I'd fractured my bloody skull (at an LRP event). The woman was such a nasty bitch about it, she went from compassionate and understanding to mocking me for being upset that I was so damned useless now. I offered to forfeit my pay but her colleague, who also had arthritis and could no longer work the floor, was obviously far more genuinely empathetic than the woman, my brief boss was also sympathetic and even paid for a taxi to take me home after I refused an ambulance. The pain didn't subside for days.

I've never had a female friend who hasn't betrayed me, my "best friend" in school found it hilarious to punch me in the back in the middle of class, causing me to yell inadvertently as the air was knocked out of me. In year 8 the other kids stepped up their game and went from throwing stones to a house brick, when I got back to school she asked where the stitches were, just so she could punch me and reopen the wound. I was never allowed to retaliate, it would always be me who would be threatened with expulsion even if I only snapped after years of beatings which everyone knew was happening. Every birthday the other kids would falsely accuse me of something so I'd have to spend break times stood outside the headmaster's office, the equivalent of the stocks. Whether it was asperger's making me so unlikeable or if I genuinely am just a massive thundercunt, I never found out what I did to provoke them. Every time I put my trust in a woman it gets thrown in my face. My neighbour decided she was my best friend for life and would call at all hours of the day and night to get me to pick up her bloody methadone twice a bloody week, go to the chippy at 11 o'bloody clock at night, she's always trying to get me to take the pills she buys off a disabled neighbour. There are three things I refuse to take, hormones, anti-depressants, and sleeping tablets and she's always trying to get me to take them. The last straw was when her husband, who I got on very well with and whom she abused constantly, died, I told her to be careful what she wished for. When I finally called her out on using me she leapt immediately to the "after all I've done for you" bollocks.

Time after bloody time it's the same damned story, even regular everyday normal women will talk about things that would get a man arrested or at least publicly lambasted, that erections equal consent, that MGM is not at all a violation of the right to bodily autonomy, that it's absolutely fine and dandy to hit your male partner only to call the police if he defends himself, that female paedophiles shouldn't be punished because boys always want sex no matter what age they are but girls mature younger, right the way back to "We should have the vote but not have to pay with our lives as men had to in their millions while we shamed men and even underage boys into doing the same". What terrified me as a child was women's ability to completely turn off their empathy, the "woman scorned" is seen as karmic justice, there are people defending even the most brutal crimes:  assault, murder, rape, mutilation, over something as minor as rejection, or an accidental drive by fart, or just the crime of being a man who wanted a divorce. Empathetic sex my absolute arse.

A fellow MRA publicly humiliated Adam on a livestream when we went to the men's day march and conference, we were staying in an air B&B, Adam and Will Styles still riding the high of giving their first speeches, only for the woman to dredge up shit that was no one's bloody business and ruin the whole mood for no bloody reason, she also attacked 6oodfella on one of the hangouts. Another one was giving private information, with a vicious twist, poisoning the community against one of our group, Paul Elam didn't want to get involved and Janice Fiamengo immediately cut ties, treating him like a bloody criminal, what the hell did the woman say to her? I could see the Woolly Bumblebee thing coming a mile off, I worry whenever youtubers I like get girlfriends because they seem to either completely change or disappear, like Spino and Bread and Circuses respectively. I'm suspicious of female MRAs, I don't want to be but often even the sane ones are just tradcons. If it weren't for the Honeybadgers and you lot I'd have no hope at all.

The constant stream of "toxic masculinity", oppression, patriarchy, of women complaining that their air conditioned (which is also bloody sexist somehow), seated jobs at a till are paid less than the men (and women but they're not going to mention that) carrying heavy boxes, driving forklifts, working in a cold warehouse, and risking serious injury or death infinitely more than they ever will. The selfishness, solipsism, and sociopathy is too much. Throughout history women have never cared about men aside from ones they have a bond with, have never appreciated a damned thing men have done yet they demand that men prioritise them. Why should they?

I’ve seen and experienced the worst examples of female nature in action, “toxic femininity” if you will, and the difference in reaction to it, never being believed as a child no matter how many times I begged other family members and even strangers to please let me live with them instead, I’ll sleep in a tent, look I brought it with me. Pathetic, but you’d have thought someone would have cottoned on. I'm not going down the anti-women route as my sister has, given her own treatment of her partners and her own admission, she’s not so much pro male as anti-female, but it’s increasingly difficult not to resent them even if everything has a biological explanation. I still defend women if the facts bear it out, even if I don’t necessarily agree on a personal level, reals over feels, the people I agree with most also being female has definitely helped me not fall over the edge, one of whom feels very much as I do to the point where she doesn’t consider herself to be a woman due to her own observations and experiences. But the longer this goes on, the more laws are changed, media is poisoned, speech is suppressed, how the hell do I stop myself from just giving up entirely? How on earth can I stop myself from becoming an all out misogynist? Because it is women, not just feminists. It’s female nature being allowed to go unchecked, even when the same happens with male nature women are still prioritised. There are exceptions on both sides but it’s not enough to change the overall trend. There’s never been a balance, and because of human nature there never will be, which is where the problem lies. I know there’s no hope, that it’s utterly futile, completely pointless, and it’s driving me more towards extremism. I completely understand why we’ve lost so many MRAs to suicide. But I’m still going, even if the only way to make even the slightest change is to appeal to female self interest I’ll still do it. Everything I’ve been passionate about throughout my life is a pointless endeavour, I can’t stop myself from caring or change my fundamental character, it’s a downward spiral and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.

[sebeth]

Giant-Size X-Men #1

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 Extra Spoiler Warning for the Deadly Genesis miniseries…

  “Second Genesis” by Len Wein and Dave Cockrum.

Winzeldorf, Germany – Kurt Wagner flees from a mob of crazed villagers.

“Perhaps things would be simpler – safer – if I had stayed with Der Jahrmarkt but the life of a carnival freak is not for me – not for Kurt Wagner!  Let them come if they must – let them try to kill me!  At least if I die, it will be as a man!”

The villagers overwhelm Kurt.  Kurt is able to teleport so I’m not sure why he wasn’t able to escape the villagers. The crowd freezes right before they stake Kurt.  Enter Charles Xavier: “You are a mutant, Kurt.  I can help you find your true potential.”

“Can you help me be normal?”

“After tonight’s misfortune, Kurt – would you truly want to be?”

“Perhaps not.  I only want to be a whole Kurt Wagner!  If you can make me that, teacher…I will go with you.”

It’s easy for the Professor to dismiss “being normal”, it’s not so easy if you have blue skin, pointed ears, fangs, glowing yellow eyes, a tail, and three fingers per hand.  

I had “Savages” from Pocahontas and “March of the Witch-Hunters” from Wicked going through my head as I read this scene.

Quebec, Canada: Wolverine meets with Charles Xavier at a secluded military installation.  Xavier informs Wolverine that he “has a need of mutants – a desperate need!”  Wolverine jumps at the chance to “get out from under the red tape and rigmarole”.  

A military official objects to Wolverine’s resignation: “The government has invested a great deal of time and money turning you into what you are now...you haven’t heard the last of this!”

Nashville, Tennessee: The Professor recruits Sean Cassidy, the Banshee, to the X-Men.

Can’t a man watch the Grand Ol’ Opry in peace?

Kenya, East Africa: Villagers entreat “Ororo, Great Goddess of the Storm, come unto us and ease our burden!”

“I am here, my children. What do you wish of me?”

The villagers offer to sacrifice goats and chickens if she ends the drought and brings rain.  Storm agrees to do “as they plead”.

Cue a rainstorm.

Xavier congratulates Ororo on her beautiful display.

“Wh – Who are you? What business have you in Ororo’s land…an…offer?  What have you to offer a goddess?”

Ororo agrees to leave with the Professor after he offers her “the world”

Ororo’s debut isn’t very flattering to her character.  The arrogance is off the charts.  Ororo knows she isn’t a goddess – she’s an orphaned street rat – but she’s referring to villagers much older than her as children and claiming the territory as “Ororo’s land”.  Why do the villagers have to approach her to end the drought – if she’s acting as a caretaker she should have produced rain before it reached drought levels – instead it appears that she’s on an egotistical power trip.   To top it off, Ororo ditches “her land” as soon as she’s offered a better deal!  No wonder Dr. Doom’s attracted to Storm!

Osaka, Japan:  The Professor recruits Sunfire to the X-Men.

Lake Baikal, Siberia: Peter Rasputin rescues his unnamed sister from a runaway tractor.  Xavier would like Peter to come to America.  Peter asks his parents what he should do.  Peter’s father responds:  “Do as your heart tells you, my son.  It will not betray you…Dosvidanya, Peter.  Our love goes with you… We are already proud of you.”

The Extraordinary X-Men series has a scene where Illanya reminds Peter that their father made him sleep in the barn like an animal.  It never rang true to me.  Granted, the Rasputin parents don’t have much onscreen time but it didn’t seem true to their characters.  Peter’s debut scene clearly shows the love the Rasputins have for their son – he definitely wasn’t sleeping in the barn.  Peter also transforms in front of the village and no one even batted an eye – so I’m throwing the Extraordinary X-Men scene out of canon!

Giant-Sized X-Men #1 was published in the midst of the Cold War/Red Scare – it was rather gutsy to make one of the new characters a Russian hero – and one that didn’t have to do a heel/face turn or redeem himself from his Communist leanings.

Camp Verde, Arizona: “John Proudstar does not like the reservation.  He does not like to watch the old ones, sitting slumped against their doorsteps, dreaming dreams of glory long gone.  John Proudstar is an Apache – and he is ashamed of his people.”

John chases down a bull and wrestles it to the ground:  “There, horned one – do you see?  There is still a man among the Apache!”

Yeah, take that, poor bull!

Xavier approaches John to join the X-men.  John’s not impressed: “You’ve got five seconds to vamoose, white-eyes…The white man needs me?  That’s tough! I owe him nothing but the grief he’s given my people!”

Xavier implies John’s a coward causing John to change his mind and join the team.

John Proudstar isn’t a likable character.  Unfortunately, John’s never allowed to develop past the angry young man/proud warrior stereotype.

Charles muses to himself: “But will you – will any of you X-Men be equal to the task that lies before you?  Or will you carry the world down into ruin?”

Let’s talk Deadly Genesis.  The mini-series retconned the events of Second Genesis.  We discover Professor Xavier launched a rescue operation before he assembled the members of the Giant-Sized X-Men team.  The team consisted of four foster children of Moira MacTaggert:  Vulcan, Darwin, Petra, and Sway.  

The four were total newbies whose only training consisted of psychic training by Professor Xavier. The four believed they had trained for months for this rescue mission but had only received hours of training. The four manage to rescue Cyclops, put him on the jet, and send him back to Westchester.  The four attempts to rescue the others but are massacred. Scott witnesses the massacre from the jet.  Xavier erases the memory of the rescue attempt from Scott’s mind – along with the fact that Vulcan is his younger brother.

Some don’t like the Deadly Genesis revelations as they are not flattering to the Professor.  Let’s be honest, the Professor was never a great man. In the original run, he had creepy thoughts about Jean (his underage student) and faked his death to his students. No, having Changeling replace him during his “death” doesn’t make it better.  Not to mention all the times he bailed on his “life’s mission”.

If we include the events of Deadly Genesis, the Professor responds the massacre of newbies by composing a team that’s mainly newbies!  Clearly, Xavier’s intelligence is overrated.

Let’s check the members’ resumes:

Kurt: Performs in a circus, runs from villagers

Peter: Farms

John: Chases bulls, whines

Ororo: Lounges in a chair, accepts villager’s offerings, makes rain storms

Sunfire has very limited experience.

Banshee and Wolverine are well-trained and very experienced. I’m not sure if Xavier is aware of the depth of Logan’s experience – to be fair, neither is Logan at this point.

Wolverine and Banshee are the only logical selections to send after the captured X-Men.  The original team had more powerful members – Cyclops, Jean Grey, Iceman, Havok, Polaris – and were captured.  I don’t know how the Professor expects this team to do better. Did it never occur to Xavier to call the Avengers or Fantastic Four and see if they could help?

Back to Giant-Sized X-Men:

Westchester, New York:

The team assembles at the school.  Peter and Ororo love their costumes.  It’s implied Professor X designed the costumes.  I wonder if Peter ever wondered why his costume didn’t have material on the sides of his chest/abdomen.  Ororo should have many questions about her costume – for starters, why am I half-naked and the rest of the men are fully clothed – or 75% clothed in Peter’s case? And why are Peter’s boots mid-thigh length?  Peter will be a brawler – I can’t imagine that would be comfortable to run in.  And what’s with the pointed shoulder pads – to stab someone in the eye?

Did John Proudstar add the feathered headband to his costume as a sign of his heritage?  Did Professor X throw it in?  Would John resent it as a stereotype or appreciate the nod to his culture?

For the record, Dave Cockrum is one of my favorite artists and few can top his character designs.  Storm’s original costume and the Imperial Guard designs are a few of my favorite Cockrum designs.

Professor Xavier introduces the group to Cyclops.  Scott recaps the events that led to the recruitment drive:  Professor Xavier detects a new mutant presence on the island of Krakoa in the South Pacific.  Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Iceman, Angel, Polaris, and Havok travel to the island. It’s mentioned that Beast isn’t available for this mission – this is around the time he was working for the Brand Corporation.  The group lands on Krakoa but are ambushed.  Scott regains consciousness, realizes he’s unable to fire his optic blasts, and retreats to the mansion.  Scott’s powers return at the mansion but with increased intensity.

Did Scott retain his power up?  Or was this forgotten and never mentioned again.  Did the other imprisoned X-men receive power-ups?  If not, why was Scott the only one?

Sunfire decides he doesn’t wants to be part of the rescue mission: “I do not even like my fellow mutants! I certainly will not risk my life to help them!”

I’m sure the feelings mutual.  However, Sunfire changes his mind and rejoins the group mid-flight.

The X-Men arrive at the island.  Scott splits the group into pairs: Cyclops/Thunderbird, Sunfire/Nightcrawler, Storm/Colossus, and Banshee/Wolverine.  Sunfire objects to pairing up with Nightcrawler.  Wolverine complains about Banshee’s sonic powers. Enhanced hearing has many drawbacks! Peter leaps out of the airplane causing Storm to panic: “You fool, you cannot fly!”  Peter responds “Of course not, but I can land with the best of them!”

Scott gets the brunt of Proudstar’s attitude: “Yes sir, General One-Eye Sir!  I just hope you’re not leading me into another Little Big Horn! It’d be just my luck to be the first Indian massacred by….”

Can we nominate Scott for sainthood?  He had to deal with Wolverine, Thunderbird, and Sunfire and didn’t kill any of them.

Scott and Proudstar find a temple as do Storm and Colossus.  Banshee and Wolverine battle giant crabs and reach the temple. Nightcrawler and Sunfire battle golden birds and snark at each other: “I begin to think the mutant community is no more hospitable than the human…”  The duo also reach the temple.

The group find the original X-Men inside the temple.  Angel warns that it’s a trap and the new mutant is the island itself.

The group battles Krakoa, the “island that walks like a man”.  Professor X mentally joins the battle.  Storm, Polaris, Havok, and Cyclops team up to deliver the final blow. The X-Men retreat as the island breaks apart.

The issue ends with Angel asking “What are we going to do with thirteen X-Men?”

Krakoa could have used more fleshing out – is it a mutant that turned into an island or a mutated island? What exactly are its abilities? As it is, it’s relegated to a plot device – and a boring one at that.  

Poor Scott didn’t even realize his entire future could be summed up in this issue:  a lifetime of mutants questioning every command and mouthing off at every opportunity.  Poor Scott had to deal with Thunderbird, Wolverine, Sunfire, and Havok this issue.

The recruitment scenes were the best part of the issue.  You could tell Banshee and Sunfire had previously appeared in the X-Men series as their recruitment only took one to two panels.  Wolverine had made an appearance in the Hulk, also written by Len Wein, so he had a bit more panel time.  Storm, Nightcralwer, Colossus, and Thunderbird’s recruitment received more page time as they were completely new creations.  The battle with Krakoa was “meh”.  

[bkroger7793]

-Ice to Meet You-

It was March 2016, I had been on a ship doing a contract for about 4 months by this point.  I had some ship flings here and there but nothing crazy serious.  My two people that flamed this mistake, are actually two people who I was just jealous of and I am grown enough to admit it at this point.  Noah and Matt.  Noah was an incredible British musical theatre performer who was playing our Kenickie in our production of “Grease”.  He’d done ships before and was currently in a great relationship with another cast member on board, but had just gotten out of a very serious relationship that sounded incredibly mentally damaging.  Matt was our Doody, he had a keen way of making me feel like shit (whether on purpose or accident).  Either way, at the end of the day we had a very interesting on board friendship.  Now I can look back and see that this was all entirely my insecurities and jealousies.  

Now that the exposition is out of the way, on with the story!

   It was March and the ship had three shows.  Our production show, an Aqua show and an Ice skating show.  The gossip train had gotten around our cast, that Noah’s ex boyfriend (the one that made him an alcoholic and broke his heart) was coming on board to join the new ice cast.  Naturally, my sadistic mind was curious.  I was excited to see what the hype was all about, because Noah is a gorgeous boy.  So to think someone would break his heart, they had to be something special.  Me and Noah weren’t the closest, but we were still friends.  

    *What happened in these 7 months, I’m not proud of but they happened and it’s my journey and I’m owning up to this all.*

    One day while I’m sat in the mess, I look up and see this new boy walk in.  He was a very handsome young man, with curly brown hair and chocolate brown eyes.  He was very tall and lean, he was what the Weather Girls were singing about in “It’s Raining Men”.  The boy who I’d never seen before looked at me and didn’t take his eyes off of me.  I looked back with an interested but quizzical look on my face.  I never like to fully give away if I’m into someone or not, but when I was looking at him I felt excited, scared, sick and anxious.  I thought it was love at first sight that I was feeling, but it was something completely different.

    From that moment on I was always excited to run into this mystery boy, who I instinctually knew was Noah’s ex-boyfriend.  I told one of my friends on board, “I’m in trouble.  Keep me away from that boy.”  They told me, “That’s Noah’s ex.  He’s off limits and really messed him up.”  My brain translated that to “That’s Noah’s ex but let’s see where this takes us.”

    I went up to the smoothie bar with my best friend in the cast Frank, we ran into one of the current skaters Ashley and she was with Noah’s ex, Wyatt.  I got my typical smoothie and he asked me what was in it, I told him “it has peanut butter, banana, whey protein, almond milk and a shot of espresso.”  He looked at me and then the smoothie and then back at me, “sounds like everything I need and more.”  I looked at him kind of incredulously and he read that as me not been interested.  I walked around and said by to Ashley and nodded bye to Wyatt.  Noah was planning on leaving the contract early, and I was trying to fight it off.  He was attractive but way to forward for my taste at the time.  I would go around to crew parties and people would come up to me and tell me “someone in the new cast has a crush on you!”  There were only 2 gay guys in the cast and one of them was already talking with one of the aqua cast members so the message came across pretty loud and clear.  I was nervous!  I didn’t want anyone to think I was truly purposely swooping in on my cast mates ex boyfriend, but I did kind of use “the secret” for it.  We ran into each other at the crew bar and we talked for a bit and then I offered to buy him a drink, to which he responded that he quit drinking a year ago.  I then left to get a drink and make sure I was far enough away from him for the rest of the night.  

   A few days later, I was with my same friend Frank and received a message on Facebook.

Wyeth: Hey Cody 🙂. I think you're really handsome and a nice guy... always want to talk w you more but both of us are always going from one thing to the next and I never really get the chance. Would you be interested in maybe gettin lunch or dinner with me some evening soon? 😃

Me: Hey Wyeth,

I'm flattered to say the least haha  and in normal circumstances I'd definitely go to dinner with you but I don't feel like with certain company present on board/in my cast, that I should really do that. I hope this doesn't come across in a bad way but I'll still be nice and down to chat in the mess and crew pubs and stuff. Hope you got to get off today and I'll see you soon : )

Wyeth: Yes I certainly understand. It was my only hesitancy in asking, but I am working on moving forward, and I definitely have interest in getting to know you better... I don't want to put you in An uncomfortable position at all. Perhaps we could just see how things go and wait a few weeks. 😉 if you have any interest, once things change a bit around here, perhaps you could revisit the notion. And yes, I look forward to hanging out a bit more. X

Me: That sounds like a plan cuz I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any interest in you

Wyeth: That's certainly exciting to hear 😜.  Looking forward handsome 🙂

Me: I’ll see you around, Wyeth.

          These messages made me feel the most attractive I’d ever felt.  He knew that.  The only thing holding me together was my uncertainty and my initial rejection.  I don’t know why I gave in.  At the time I wasn’t that attracted to him.  I just didn’t want him to try to go back with Noah or potentially go out with Matt (because rumor had it that he flirted with him as well).  

    We secretly would hang out in his cabin and watch movies, laugh and kiss…a lot.  We went on our first date at a really nice restaurant in Miami.  Our server was so taken a back about how beautiful we looked together. That was our thing. Everyone had to stop and tell us how beautiful we looked together. It was an amazing ego boost.  After all of this time feeling like I wasn’t worthy or going to amount to anything, I was finally with a guy who was seemingly head over heels for me and who looked amazing next to me.  

      One night we were watching a movie in one of our friends cabins and we were all snuggled up.  It was two days before Noah was going to leave.  Up until this point the only thing that may have given us away was that I went out to Jamaica with him and his friends and we rode a canoe together and he posted it on Instagram.  For reasons I don’t know, because I asked him to try to keep this a secret.  I felt uncomfortable and uneasy but didn’t want to jump to conclusions because he said “he was trying to work past and change”.  

   But we were watching a movie and were snuggled on the floor, then theres a knock on the door.  Our host goes to open the door and its Noah, he immediately see’s us together on the floor and looks stunned.  I look back scared and ashamed, Wyeth seems oddly at ease, almost as if this was everything he wanted from this.  Looking back on this now, I feel very used and taken advantage of.  

     The next day again, I received a message from Noah wishing me the best of luck and that he couldn’t be upset because he was in a happy relationship at the moment.  I told him thank you and that I would never have wanted him to think I would do this for any reason beyond wanting to give Wyeth a chance.  

    The contract went by and we stayed together.  It was amazing sex, incredible memories and I was treated like a prince.  He wanted me for him all of the time, all day, everyday.  It felt scary, it felt comforting and it felt intoxicating.  I was beloved by his friends and even when I met his mom (who is not an easy critic) grew to form a positive opinion on me.  I thought this one was it, he was the one.  

    We got off of the ship and he came to visit my in New York.  He had missed me so much and I had missed him as well(he finished the contract earlier than me).  The first days were great, I met his family friends who we were house sitting for and a few other friends.  I liked them a lot.  We went out to an HBO premiere party and it was the biggest deal to me.  I looked over and he had a glass of wine in his hand.  “I thought you don’t drink?” I asked.  “No I’ll be fine, it’s just some wine.  Besides I only gave it up on the ship.”  I didn’t want to be his mom and tell him that that was not what he told me, but instead I let him go for it.  It was nice, we both could have a social drink together.  He would look around the party the entire night as if in search for something or someone else.  When we met his friends he tried to put me down a lot because I was so excited to be at an HBO party (mind you I was just acting grateful, I wasn’t being like dough eyed baby ingenue).  We stayed out till 4 am.  It was very odd in comparison to our picture perfect life on the ship where we went home straight after work and where I was expected to be back in his cabin at a certain time and I couldn’t go out with my cast.  Anyway, we went out again the next day and I brought him to visit and meet my closest friends that were in the city.  He was good, but always with my friends he would get super quiet and would never try to initiate conversation.  Wyeth always had to make it a point on how young everyone was as well, because he was 31 and so ahead of the game than me because of it.  I tried to shrug it off and have a fun night.  We then got on the topics of ex’s and then he started talking about this boy named Chris who in the 5 months of dating I’d never heard of.  “Who’s Chris?”  I asked.

“He’s my ex boyfriend,” he pulled out his phone and showed me his Instagram.  Chris looked like a white version of that bad boy model guy with the mug shot that was famous online for a spell.  Nothing like me, or even Noah (who I was also compared to on multiple occasions).  

“He’s very handsome.” I say, trying to be nice and hoping for him to turn and say that I was more handsome than him or something sweet.

Wyeth proceeds to say, in front of all of my friends, “Yeah he is,” he said this like he was ‘the one that got away’.  I was left mortified, my friends were looking at me like I was dating the hugest douche bag ever.  He then asked if we could leave early to hang out with Chris’ best friend Brandon.  I said, sure why not.  We went and immediately felt weird, the Brandon boy was like no friend of Wyeth’s I had ever met, and could have given less of a shit that I was in his home. I was then ignored the entire night and didn’t sit next to Wyeth the entire time.  I left him at the bar and didn’t see him until he got back to the apartment at 4:30 am.  

   He then woke up at 9 am to visit with his “manager” and told me he’d be back soon.  He then went to get a massage, then to run an errand at Sprint, and then never answered me back.  He disappeared.  I called all of his friends who I knew, to which one of them responded and said.

“Oh no, he does this sometimes.  He’s probably doing drugs, the city isn’t good for him. Just stay there and be there for him when he gets back.” Like I was indebted to him, and should accept this behavior of his if I wanted to be with him.  I stayed up the entire night and tried to sleep whenever I could.  I couldn’t sleep at all.  Wyeth didn’t come back home until 11:20 am the next morning.  Looking terrible and feeling like shit.  We cried and he explained more of his problems and past with me, I didn’t know what to do.  In front of me I saw this sincere guy who had a trouble past who needed someone like me.  Someone loyal, trusting and loving.  He asked if I wanted to do this still, and that he knew he was difficult to date.  I couldn’t say no to him then and there because I was just on this emotional rollercoaster and saw someone so broken.  I was willing to sacrifice so much of myself because he couldn’t take the time to just go out and get professional help.  Now, I may come across rather cold in regards to this but that is what this relationship came down to.  He thought I could fix something that was so broken and deeply rooted in him, when all it was doing to me was breaking me.  His problems were becoming my problems and my problems were becoming non existent, and worse of all irrelevant.  

   Wyeth left for another contract, our relationship went from ‘we are in this for the long run’ to ‘we’re taking it day by day’.  He started telling me about this other skater who’s from Canada and was going to be in the Olympics this year and they were becoming great friends because they both were in very serious relationships.  I was happy for him that he was making these friends, he told me that the other skater was engaged to be married to another skater who was around my age.  I then started to get a little weirded out because he would talk about him all the time, and still was continuously talking about all of these ex boyfriends he still was in serious contact with.  To which we got in an argument about when he came back to the city, why all 100 of his ex boyfriends were still so relevant in his life.  I understand an occasional text or message on a birthday or a holiday, but this was constant contact.  Wyeth then proceeded to get angry and tell me in the train station that I couldn’t understand because I had never been in a “real” relationship before so I wouldn’t understand.  It was fine if it was one ex, but ALL of them, all of the time.  It wasn’t normal the way he talked about them either but he gaslighted me into believing I was overreacting.  I then started apologizing for caring and trying to add up his behavior, actions and words.  He then left for his next contract and while he was gone I had constant anxiety, I couldn’t sleep.  Wyeth was drinking and partying on a regular basis, he was distant whenever we talked on the phone and would never want to actively be sexy or show true affection.  

   I then found out from an anonymous person that he was being super flirty and entertaining thoughts of being with the Engaged Canadian Skater, and that the Engaged Canadian Skater was entertaining the idea as well.  They had a “genuine connection”. I knew my anxiety was leading me to the right direction.  I never told him I knew that, but I broke up with him.  He looked at me in the eye on FaceTime so angry and I said “It’s not fun always thinking that your boyfriend is looking for something or someone else, when he has something already amazing in front of his face.”

He responded saying, “I have to go to work, because thats what people do.” He then hung up.

I thought I had overreacted and he continued to not own up to any of his odd behavior saying the only thing he wish he could have taken back was when he disappeared on me in NYC.  I’m still trying to shrug it all off, because I really thought he loved me for a moment.  He didn’t. He loved the idea of me and knew that he should have loved me, but he will always love himself and “the game” more.  I feel tired, I feel played but overall I feel strong.  At such a young age and having not have been in any “real relationships” (as he says), to know what I deserve and want out of life that is bigger than any dick, or hotter than any face or ego.  I want a patient love, an honest love and a love that respects me for how strong I am.  A love that believes in me and is greater than stereotypes.  

Not all that glitters is gold.  But sometimes you can take the glitter from that experience and get your sparkle back.  

My anxiety is gone, my thoughts still cloud my brain but I know when this negativity leaves, a power that is greater than anything I’ve ever experienced will be in the horizon.