#out of acknowledged internalised homophobia

[radlymona]

TRAs having no empathy yet again

Teenagers who are pushed towards transitioning aren’t “pushovers” they’re mentally and emotionally vulnerable young people who shouldn’t be allowed to make life-changing medical decisions. Acknowledging this fact isn’t stopping adults from transitioning. It just aims to stops other vulnerable teenagers from doing the same.

[caraphernellie]

thank you for the venom // e.w.

summary: suffocating in a small religious town, drowning in your own misery, your own thoughts in which you were led to believe are dirty, disgraceful, unholy - where else can you turn for support other than the church? where else would you want to turn to, when ellie williams, so knowledgeable of the beliefs and teachings of the church, is there to take care of you?

a/n: oh god please don’t hate on me for this 🙏 here’s preacher!ellie. don’t come at me i have religious trauma and am also a big mcr fan so obviously. i am so nervous to post this. i cannot stress enough if this is not ur thing do not read it lmfao. closing my eyes and posting this i wrote it ages ago i dont even remember what it goes like ive been too shy to post it. part 2 where they have rough sex in the church is coming eventually when i get over being shy about that one too. bye

word count: 3.7k (i know.)

warnings: preacher!ellie , fem!reader , religious imagery/references , internalised homophobia (both e and r) , christianity/catholicism , she is so blinded by internalised homophobia , dom!ellie , oral(r!receiving) , fingering(r!receiving) , tribbing , virgin!reader but not innocent , ellie’s actually nice and has good intentions she’s just clouded by religious trauma , sinning , definitely ooc but i tried to make it as 'ellie' as possible , use of pet names : sweet girl , sweetheart , angel , good girl , cutie

“you are aware of the three hail mary devotion?”

ellie looks down at you, kneeling before her by the altar. there’s something unreadable in her gaze. though she looks utterly sympathetic.

“each day, you can seek guidance from the lord by honouring the blessed virgin mary, and you will say three hail marys. you’ll begin each day with a saying.” ellie clears her throat, her gaze unwavering. not even a blink, eyes green as ivy almost sickening you. “i do this everyday myself. ‘o my mother, preserve me this day from mortal sin.’”

“thank you, ellie.”

“you understand that i can’t speak to the lord on your behalf. i am simply the preacher, i am here to provide you comfort and guidance. and i do promise you, if you continue to repent for your sins, god will always forgive. there will always be a spot for you in heaven should you continue to do the right thing. you can acknowledge that these… thoughts… are unholy.”

perhaps there was a reason, that instead of taking yourself to confession, you sought ellie out to ask for guidance, though leaving out a crucial detail. she is the object of your thoughts.

“if it consoles you,” ellie starts, “i have struggled with thoughts of this nature too.”

and like a record screeching, you pause, looking up at the woman. and what a woman she is – black turtleneck, which doesn’t at all hide toned muscles you wish you could see. black slacks, brown boots. shoulder length, auburn hair, and a freckled complexion. she is so respected amongst the members of the parish, always living her life in the holiest of ways, and never would you have thought someone as perfect as ellie williams could have thoughts of sin.

“what?” your voice shakes, and ellie tenses for a moment. 

perhaps you could have seen this coming, how there’s often tension thick as a brick wall between the two of you. ellie’s mixed signals ever so confusing.

“sometimes these thoughts get the best of us,” ellie murmurs. she approaches you, and as you look up at her through your eyelashes, she furrows her brows, hardens her gaze. “i have asked god to help me overcome these thoughts. i have had these thoughts and feelings for a long time. yet i repent. you may never get to stop repenting for this. but showing remorse and asking the lord to forgive you is all you need to protect yourself from the devil.”

ellie williams, respected preacher. she devoted her life to the church, wanting to live a life of holiness to make up for those thoughts she couldn’t ignore.

your hands clasped together like a silent, continuous prayer to preserve your own self-control, you open your mouth to speak, when ellie cuts you off.

“i’m glad god brought us together, and caused us to cross paths. you’re a special girl.”

there’s a warm rush of blood going straight to your cheeks, a waver in your voice, and a feeling of deep appreciation pooling between your thighs. “i’m glad too. it’s very comforting… to know that i’m not the only one dealing with these kinds of thoughts. thank you for helping me, and for teaching me that i am not damned. i hope we can both find peace.”

ellie nods slowly, her gaze unfaltering as you rise to your feet. for a moment, you feel that you catch a hint of a different expression – a smirk, one that disappears within seconds. as though she puts on a facade. “we are all born into sin. what matters is that we believe, and we follow the word of god. he knows what’s best for us.”

“and he can lead us back on the right path,” you say, smoothing down your dress, a modest piece, knee length and long sleeved.

ellie is deep in thought when she mumbles her next few words. “in the meantime, i can help you with your sexuality.”

once again, a heavy silence falls over you both as the words hang in the air. ellie’s about to backtrack, when you tilt your head, and her cheeks flush red as wine.

“h– how so..?” you ask, eyeing ellie as she rubs the back of her neck. her signals constantly so mixed, you wonder how you’ve gotten this far. too far to turn back now. her sudden nervous demeanour tells you everything. ellie has her issues, and she is nothing like the perfect preacher everyone respects.

“as a preacher,” ellie says, chuckling in an awkward way, “i should be taking care of people in our town, helping them to overcome their struggles and grow their relationship with god stronger. you are part of that as well.”

and so there it is, the strict and god-fearing ellie back again.

“i’d like to invite you over to my home. to pray, and we can study scripture. i can teach you how to overcome this.” her bottom lip drawn between her teeth, there’s that nervousness again. something impure is implied, her eyes burning into your face for any trace of uncertainty, and in the case that she finds it, she’ll backtrack. “if you’re not interested, just say so.”

and at the thought of what the implications are, you find yourself nodding distractedly, gaze falling towards the crucifix hanging on the wall of the church, and you grow warm with shameful excitement. “yes, i- i can do that. is there a time that suits you, ellie?”

ellie smiles firmly, yet it doesn’t meet her eyes. as if she is having the same mental dilemma as you. “i’m glad. how about tomorrow, 7?”

“of course, i,- yes. i’ll be there. you’re just a walk down the street.”

“perfect,” ellie says, and finally that smile reaches her eyes, an almost teasing twinkle in them, a loving look that doesn’t feel the same as the love she shares with others. “wear something appropriate, alright?”

“uh-huh,” you hum, shrinking under ellie’s gaze, knees buckling.

“i’ll see you soon,” ellie murmurs, voice low. and before you turn to leave, her eyes glance over your body once more. and she doesn’t hide her expression this time. she likes what she sees.

you simply nod your goodbye. as you step down from the altar and bow to the tabernacle, you can feel her stare. you feel it as you walk all the way down the aisle of the church, late afternoon sunlight hitting the stained glass windows just right and casting red shadows over you.

✧✧✧

it’s impossible to make it through the next day. that night when you had left the church, you tried taking ellie’s advice. the hail marys, the devotion. but thoughts crept in, ellie consuming your mind in the most beautiful bittersweet memory. you couldn’t help but to picture what she could do to you, how she could worship you. and the guilt of it had you in tears only after you had came.

at 7pm, you walk down the street to ellie’s house. 

and ellie opens the door, not even a greeting slipping past her lips before she speaks. “i like that dress on you.”

and she doesn’t know it, but it eased so much of your nervousness. that you did read the situation correctly. because if you had misread the entire thing, and showed up to ellie’s home in a dress you’ve grown out of, it would have been a certainly difficult situation to navigate. ellie said to dress appropriately. and to you, that meant an older dress that hugs you tightly in the right places, leaving your body looking supple and sweet for her taking.

and should ellie discover what’s underneath the dress, she’ll see just how appropriate you decided to dress for her.

“you look beautiful,” ellie murmurs quieter this time, stepping aside to let you into her home, the brown brick house seeming so inviting at this time of night, warm candlelight lit inside. as you walk in, ellie’s eyes dip down to your exposed thighs, the dress being that short. 

“thank you,” you reply, taking a look around the house. dark wood, vintage furniture, candles, crosses everywhere. as ellie leads you to her living room, there are things you take note of that you hadn’t expected. gaming consoles, a dvd stand full of horror films. she doesn’t comment even when she sees your stare, and instead she sets you down on her couch.

“should we start?” ellie asks, a hint of a smile on her lips. “how about we start with a prayer?”

“alright,” you say with a nod, clasping your clammy hands together. ellie grins a little, and does the same, then begins to lead you both in prayer.

“lord, we know that we are sinners. please forgive us for experiencing unholy thoughts about other women, and please guide us to become more like you. please help us to watch our words and actions, and guard us against future mistakes and errors. thank you for sending your son, jesus, to die for our sins — and thank you for your forgiveness. In the name of your son jesus, we pray, amen.”

it’s like with every reminder of your faith, glancing around the room, looking at the red rosary hanging around ellie’s neck, or the bible laying on the coffee table, an insurmountable guilt builds inside you.

ellie eyes a crucifix hanging on the wall, then averts her gaze from it – she simply can’t keep her eyes from wandering to you.

“shall we study now?” ellie asks, voice husky as she reaches for the bible. “i can t–”

“ellie,” you say, eyes pleading with her. your hand meets hers, and you stop her from picking up her bible. “we both know you didn’t invite me here to study scripture.”

ellie freezes, flitting her gaze between your hands, the bible, and your eyes. she’s been caught out. perhaps nervous to make the first move, ellie had switched up again, afraid to do anything that wasn’t innocent, afraid to corrupt you. but the confirmation that you want what she wants is enough.

“no… no, you’re right. you’re not here to talk about scripture with me,” ellie mumbles, a nod accompanying it. 

“then…” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your little dress, tilting your head at ellie with a warm face and trembling legs, white knee high stockings clinging to your calves. “we should… then we should do what you invited me here for.”

a beat.

“are you sure?” ellie asks.

“ellie, i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this,” you say, “haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. so please.”

ellie takes one look at your pleading eyes and your bottom lip between your teeth, and she knows that she’s done for.

“come,” ellie whispers, standing and taking your hand. there’s a faint look in her eyes, and everything feels light and slow as she walks you upstairs, into the bedroom.

ellie’s bedroom is similar to the rest of her house, vintage furniture and low lighting. her queen sized bed is pushed into the corner of the wall. on the nightstand lays another bible, on the wall a cross and portraits she’s drawn or painted herself. there’s a bookshelf filled with mostly religious literature and scientific books about things like astronomy and space. an acoustic guitar sits by the nightstand.

“well,” ellie murmurs, lighting a candle or two on the nightstand, flicking off the main light in the room. she stands across from you, illuminated in a warm candlelit glow. “let’s not waste any more time.”

before ellie does anything else, her hand finds the rosary around her neck. her fingers find the crucifix and she lifts it to her lips, pressing a kiss against it like a silent prayer, one last apology to the god she’s betraying. your heart skips a beat, and within no time ellie’s got a hand on the back of your head, pulling you in.

teeth clashing, hands roaming your body, ellie kisses you like it was the only thing she was made to do in life. she presses her body close to you as her tongue pushes past your soft lips. you’re not quite sure where to put your hands at first, but they settle, cupping ellie’s cheeks to bring her closer. your soft moan is muffled by ellie’s lips, her tongue invading every corner of your mouth, nothing unexplored.

ellie’s hands slide down your body, one gripping your ass over the dress and the other cupping your boob.

pulling away only to catch her breath, ellie pushes you towards the bed, laying you down on your back and climbing on top to continue kissing. she nips your bottom lip with her teeth, every act so desperate, so full of a yearning finally being fulfilled.

she stops kissing you again, this time with her hands reaching for the zipper at the back of your dress. “let’s take this off, sweet girl.”

ellie’s voice is breathless already, and she pants softly as she struggles with the zipper for a moment, her brain moving faster than her hands. she finally manages it, and lifts the dress off you.

you’re quiet, as is ellie. you had anticipated there’d be a reaction to this, the matching set you chose. white and lacy, a bra and panties that match the stockings ellie admired earlier. but nothing could have truly prepared you for ellie’s reaction.

“you are divine,” ellie murmurs, her hand roaming down to your hips. she licks her lips, unable to keep her eyes off of how the bra accentuates your breasts, or how the panties hug your waist. her body language, all too clear of how she truly feels about you, does nothing but cause you to throb inside your panties. “do you trust me?”

the question throws you off. furrowing your brows, but offering a small smile, you reply. “of course i trust you, ellie.”

the soft tone of your voice entices ellie, especially as you take her hand and guide it to your chest, letting her squeeze you through the cup of your bra.

“what a beautiful sin,” ellie whispers, leaning down and attaching her lips to your neck. she’s careful not to leave marks that would be visible, but she squeezes your breast as she kisses and licks a trail down your neck, all the way to your chest.

ellie revels in your soft mewls, the way your thread your fingers into the hair at the back of her head, and hold her against you. her hand reaches behind you, grabbing at the clasp of your bra. and ellie bites down, sucking a bruise into the soft flesh of your breast, where she knows nobody could see it. you arch your back partly in pleasure, but mostly to provide her access to the back of your bra, and ellie pulls it off in no time. her eyes widen as your tits spill out, and she swallows thickly as she watches your nipples grow firm with arousal and the exposure to the air.

ellie’s hand cups your bare tit and squeezes as she brings her face up towards you once more, needing that touch of her lips on yours. her long fingers tweak your nipple, rolling the bud around as she kisses you with a growing passion, groaning into the kiss just as you whine quietly.

ellie chuckles as your hands press into her back, pulling her closer, hugging her and hiding your face away in shame. she kisses the corner of your lips, pausing to soothe you. “shh, let me take care of you. let me worship you, sweet girl.”

you ease your grip on ellie when she says that, and she smiles at you before leaning down. you shiver, feeling the cold metal crucifix of her rosary resting down against your stomach, earning a chuckle from ellie as she wraps her lips around your nipple. she sucks for a moment, then rolls her tongue over it.

ellie’s hand lays flat over your stomach, pinning you down to stop your restless squirming. she moves her leg between yours, her knee pressing a generous amount of friction against your panties.

“h… ellie,” you whisper, “have you done this before?”

ellie looks up at you, and with a grin, she nods. “i have. a long time ago.”

“oh my goodn–” you cut yourself off with a lengthy whine, ellie beginning to suck hickeys all over your chest, from one breast to the other. she gives your other nipple the same treatment, only this time her teeth graze it lightly, and your hand on the back of her head tightens the grip on her hair. “ellie…”

“shh,” ellie hushes you, beginning to kiss down your stomach. “you’re okay.”

your incessant squirming and writhing turns ellie’s grin wider, when she cups her hand over your panties and feels the soaking mess.

“that’s beautiful,” she whispers, her fingers tugging at the waistband now, “this all f’me?”

you nod eagerly, looking down at ellie from where you lay propped up against the plush pillows. any holy thought has left your mind, and it appears to be the same for ellie, who lays between your legs with a cheshire cat smile, stripping the panties down your legs.

“so pretty,” ellie hums, grasping at your thighs and pulling them apart. “tell me, you want me to touch you here?”

a nod simply won’t be good enough this time, and you know that, clearing your throat to speak up hoarsely. “yes, yes please, el… can y– mmff-”

ellie’s fingers rub over your cunt, two fingers spreading the folds, the touch burning hot and electrifying. ellie laughs, not meanly, but sympathetically. “barely touched you yet, cutie. so wet…”

your lips turn down into a pout that makes ellie smirk, and she leans close, leaving a kiss on your throbbing clit.

“c’mon, don’t pout at me,” she whispers, another kiss following the words. “angel…”

you shudder, and then a loud moan escapes your throat as ellie’s tongue flicks out, beginning to lap at you. your body’s responsiveness leaves ellie with so much confidence. 

“ellie, ellie,” you mewl, reaching a hand towards her. “ellie, it’s so– mmm…”

ellie reaches her free hand towards you, letting you grab it and intertwine your fingers. she gives a gentle squeeze as she licks a stripe down from your clit to your entrance, then back up again.

ellie can’t get enough of you, of your saccharine taste, staring up at you with blown out pupils as she sucks and laps at you. one of her bony fingers dips into your entrance, and ellie herself groans at the feeling of you clenching around it, but the sound you make is so rewarding that she pushes her ring finger in as soon as she knows you can take another finger. her digits stroke in and out of your sopping cunt, leaving you a whimpering and whining mess.

“c’mon angel,” ellie murmurs against your pussy, “i got you, i got you. ‘s this good?”

you nod, squeezing ellie’s hand in a vice grip, hips bucking against her face eagerly. “ellieeeeuuhh, oh, oh my g–”

“don’t,” ellie warns, “don’t take the lord’s name in vain, and don’t bring him into this.”

“i– s-sorry,” you gasp out, tipping your head back, “oh, oh, ellie, i’m gettin’ close.”

“good girl,” ellie murmurs, keeping the fast rhythm of both her fingers and tongue. “gonna be good and cum f’me?”

“yea, yea,” you say in a breathy voice, more moans leaving your lips, “ohhh, mmfuck, f-fuck, ellie.”

ellie’s ruining you, reduced you to nothing but babbles and moans. you buck your hips up more, rutting fast against her face, and that’s when you hit your peak. with a shriek of ellie’s name, you cream on her fingers, covering them with your slick, allowing them to stroke in and out even quicker.

ellie rides out your orgasm, slowly pulling away when you’re finished. she peppers kisses along your shaking thighs, leaning up to catch your lips in a kiss.

“good, sweet girl?” ellie asks, kissing the top of your head. you nod – but ellie isn’t finished with you, apparent as she begins unbuckling her belt.

“mmm,” you hum, “‘s perfect.”

“alright, angel, c’mere,” ellie says, stripping down to nothing. she sits by the headboard, pulling you onto her lap, hooking a leg over you. “you’re doin’ so good, you know? think you were made to please. good at taking what you’re given.”

“only because i want it,” you say in response, which has ellie chuckling. she grips your waist, grunting when her cunt makes contact with yours. 

“good,” ellie says sternly, “because– shit.”

ellie loves how you keel over and press your nose against her neck because of the way your sensitive pussy rubs against her own. she tightens her grip on your waist, fingernails leaving little crescent moon marks in the plush skin as she begins moving you, groaning and moaning at the way your clit bumps against hers. she moves her own hips too, gasping your name.

you breathe soft whines into ellie’s neck, arms wrapped around her, hugging tight. it’s nothing but desperate now, your second orgasm approaching right in time with ellie’s.

“hnng, f-fuck, yeah, you gonna cum again?” ellie asks, squeezing your ass as you move against her. “good girl, cum, c– cum with me, cum with me s– fuck.”

ellie tenses up, hips moving fast to rub your soaking cunts together as you both cum. kissing your temple, ellie gently moves you off of her, running a hand through her damp and sweaty hair. “stay here angel, ‘m gonna clean you up, and we’ll cuddle then, okay?”

you don’t have much of a say in the matter regardless, shaking in the afterglow of ellie’s touch. she comes back moments later, looking a bit cleaner herself, carrying a wet washcloth. she begins to wipe you down, being extra careful around all of your more sensitive areas. she leaves kisses in the wake of her touch.

“you are beautiful,” ellie says in a firm tone. “the most perfect angel i’ve ever seen.”

you can only give ellie a half smile in response, and she drops the washcloth, leaning in and kissing you sweetly. 

“don’t stress, you know why? because god always forgives as long as you’re willing to repent.”

ellie climbs into bed, pulling you close with an arm around your waist. she rests her chin on top of your head, a protective hold on you.

“why don’t we say another prayer before we go to sleep?” the preacher asks, tone almost uncertain. is she convincing you, or herself? “he’ll forgive us.”

tags: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @machetegirl109 @eurewili @craz1er4you @divinediors @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites

i'm still trying to sort out my tag list!! it wouldn't let me tag some people. if you wanted to be tagged but weren't pls let me know so i can fix that <3

credits: middle pic in the banner is @switchbladekillerqueen <33 this pic inspired me to write this fic!!

[bumble-punch]

Not enough people acknowledge that Chip is sexist and has internalised homophobia and toxic masculinity, and is a world-class emotionally constipated bullshitter. STOP erasing all his problematic sides HE IS A BASTARD!!! He's just likable anyway because you learn that half of that is because of bad influences in his life and the other half is a defence mechanism! And he has so much potential to grow and he does throughout the course of the story as he learns to allow himself to be vulnerable and form attachments! But in many respects he's still an asshole!! He would not have perfectly politically correct veiws! He would get better over time but he would not start out like that!

[fourmoony]

Friends or What?

James Potter x F!Reader

A coming of age story in which Potter's Corner Shop has a funny way of bringing people together. Falling in love is daunting when everyone is watching.

Ao3 Link (chapters will be uploaded here the day before Tumblr).

CW: For Chapter One, the content warnings include: Use of the word 'fag', but in context to a cigarette (UK slang) Foul language A minor using the word 'shagging' Smoking/Drinking alcohol A comment about hoping someone chokes Threat of caving someone's head in with a baseball bat (it's lighthearted, I swear) Implied internalised homophobia Mentions of fighting

Please be aware that this fic will contain multiple hard to read scenes, and I completely understand, if because of this, you choose not to read :) it's a coming of age fic, while there'll be lots of fluff and happy moments, there'll also be lots of hard, uncomfortable moments, too. Please, please, do not make yourself uncomfortable.

CHAPTER ONE (7k) -

Sirius is stocking the fag drawers, behind the counter, when you come in through the shop door. The little bell above the wooden frame dings to announce your arrival. Sirius doesn’t turn upon hearing the bell, nor does he acknowledge there’s even anyone in the shop. You follow his lead, heading up the sweetie aisle, wiggling your fingers as you go, lips puckered in anticipation as you search of the cherry lollies you know were delivered this morning. Whether or not Sirius has bothered to unload the pallet yet is a strong factor in whether you’ll find them sitting where they’re supposed to be. Your eyes scan the shelves, there are no cherry lollies to be found. No worries, you think, picking up a fashion magazine as you pass the stand.

You walk the loop of the shop, hear the bell ding in the distance signal someone else has come in. It smells like newspapers and the inside of the fridges that line the back wall of the shop; the radio crackles through tinny speakers, playing the UK Top 40 and you just know Sirius is hating every minute of it. When you approach the till, Sirius still has his head in the fag drawer, whistling along to his own song, radio be damned.

“You didn’t put the cherry lollies out, lazy arse,” you say.

Sirius jumps, turns as though you might be standing there with a balaclava and machete, ready to demand he open and empty the till. He rolls his eyes when his brain catches up with the situation, head bobbing to the left where the storeroom door sits, a pale blue, creaky thing that drives everyone insane on stock days with its constant whine every time it opens and closes, “Help yourself.”

The storeroom is cold and dark, but spacious, with piles of overflow stock lined up against the walls, organised into specific sections. It’s almost scary how neat it is. There’s a pallet in the middle of it all, wrapped in black plastic that’s been ripped at the top; likely Sirius taking the fags out. You scan the pile with a frown, knowing it’ll be an annoying game of Jenga trying to find the lollies without pulling everything else down with them. It takes a while, and a bit of rearranging, but you find the tub and return to Sirius with a triumphant smile. The customer that followed you in is filing out the door, so you allow Sirius to scan your items and give him the money.

“You should be about halfway through that pallet by now, it’s gone one in the afternoon, you know.” You chastise Sirius playfully.

He scowls when you sit on the counter beside the till one leg curled up and tucked underneath you, the other swinging back and forth, kicking and wobbling the specials display underneath the till. He knows he’s not getting rid of you any time soon when you flip open your magazine, unwrap your lolly, and stick it in your mouth.

“It showed up late. Problem with a road closure, or something.” Sirius replies, turning back to the drawer.

He rips open a packet of Sterling Duals and starts stuffing them into the drawer. You hum, amused, “That what you’re going to tell Effie?”

Sirius scoffs, an air of arrogance to him when he looks over his shoulder, long, black hair flicking with the movement, “It’s the truth. Plus, Effie never shouts at me. You know this.”

“Perks of being the boss’s son.”

Sirius seems to preen at your jab over his nepotism. He’s always very happy to be known as Euphemia and Fleamont Potter’s son. You don’t know much about his situation, just that the Potter’s took Sirius in when he was sixteen and none of them ever looked back. He’s happy and he’s cared for, and he seems to love being their son. So, you don’t ask. It’s none of your business, anyway.

The bell dings again and you and Sirius both look over out of habit. You have to lean past the roll stand to your left to fully see who’s came in, but when you catch sight of James, your grin grows wider. James Potter is Euphemia and Fleamont’s son. Biological son. Granted, that doesn’t matter with the way Effie fawns over Sirius like he was the biological one. She claims to love them the same. You secretly think Sirius is the favourite, though you have no idea why. He’s an insufferable shit, most of the time. James is nice. He’s bright and always happy, a proper ray of sunshine which, on the bad days, can be a little annoying.

It’s rather hard to be angry at the world when James Potter is standing there with his stupidly pretty grin and his big brown eyes, spouting such optimism into the world that things just start to feel better because he says they will.

“Delivery came late, mate. Just got it half an hour ago.” Sirius doesn’t even greet his best friend with a ‘Hello’, just moves straight onto damage control over the fact he’s still restocking the fag counter at one o’clock in the afternoon.

“Don’t listen to him, Jamie,” You say, popping the cherry lolly out of your mouth to talk properly, “He’s a dirty liar. Lazy arse, too.”

James laughs, approaches where you’re perched on the counter and stands so close you can smell his aftershave. It’s a bit of a cliché, honestly; fancying your boss’s son. Well, really, he’s your friend before he’s Effie and Monty’s son. You’ve always been friends. Since before you started working at the shop. Since school, really. But still. The cliché sits a little clunky in your chest sometimes. Especially when he looks as handsome as he does, today. He’s wearing his rugby jumper and a pair of joggies. Really, it’s nothing special. But he looks so soft. So cosy. His hair is all mussed up from the wind and his glasses are a little squint.

You reach out a manicured finger to push them further up his nose and he smiles down at you. Yeah, you think, pathetic.

“Are you here to work or cause trouble?” James asks with a teasing smile whilst Sirius sputters at your accusations.

“I can multitask, you know,” is your reply, words sweet as honey, “But to answer your question, no, sadly I am not here to work.”

“And yet you’re still here, annoying me with your presence.” Sirius mumbles.

You roll your eyes, turn to James with pouted lips, “See the way he talks to me?”

In James’s defence, he plays the game. See how far you can push each other before the other gets flustered and has to walk away. Last week he gave you a taste of your own medicine so bad that you had to stand in the stock room like an idiot for five minutes counting tins of beans until your face returned to its normal colour. You’re good at putting up a front, acting like whatever the two of you are doing doesn’t effect you, that you’re cool, calm, and collected about the whole thing. But the tins of beans in the stock room would tell a different story, could they talk. You’re glad they can’t, as silly as that thought is.

James, bless him, humours you – much to Sirius’ dismay – and coos, brows furrowed in mock-sympathy, “Poor soul.”

“Okay, fine, if this was your plan to get me to do the pallet, I’ll go.” Sirius finally breaks, hands held up in surrender.

It wasn’t your plan, but you watch him leave with an amused smile.

“The road into the village was shut, I know the delivery was actually late.” James laughs to himself.

“Hm,” You hum, ditching your magazine to the side and swinging your legs over the counter until you’re standing behind it, “Me too.”

“Thought you weren’t working today.”

You shrug, picking up where Sirius left off with the fags, your back turned to James, “I’ll do these and then I’ll be off.”

“Thanks.” James rounds the counter the normal way, punching his clock in card on the machine beside the till.

You look up, find him leaning against the counter by his hip, a small smile on his face. He’s so charming, you think.

“Don’t thank me,” You warn, the ghost of a mischievous smirk dancing across your face, “I’m putting them all in backwards, so he has to redo them all.”

“You know how he gets about the fag drawers,” James groans, because he knows he has to spend the rest of the day listening to Sirius gripe about whatever it is you’re about to do. “They’re his… area.”

“Yeah, well,” You shrug, “He didn’t put the cherry lollies out.”

James doesn’t have an answer for that. He just huffs a laugh and reaches for a packet to open and starts to pass you them.

-----

‘The Saturday Girls’, or so they’re nicknamed, are nice. They’re so coined because they only work Saturdays to help with unloading the bulk of the delivery that comes that morning. It’s a weekend job, perfect for them because they’re still in school, and it offers them a bit of pocket money. It would’ve been a dream job for you at fifteen, but Shauna and Lisa sometimes seem like having to work a shift in Potter’s Corner Shop is the bane of their entire teenage existence. Like now, Shauna stands leaning up against the end of the third aisle, passing Lisa packages of toilet rolls off the trolley with a sardonic look on her face.

You can hear them talking about a girl in their form class, how she’s after Shauna’s boyfriend and it brings unwanted flash backs of being that age, that naïve, when the idea of someone stealing your boyfriend felt like the end of the world. Really, they should have a trolley each, working on separate aisles. But you don’t get paid enough to boss them around; and if Shauna’s insults to whatever girl is trying to steal her man are anything to go by, you don’t actually want to be on her bad side.

Sirius has taken a falling out with the fag drawers since your ruin of them, yesterday, and so you’ve spent the better part of the morning facing them all the correct way. There’s a box of clipper lighters on the floor at your feet to be unloaded, too.

“I’m too scared to tell them that putting toilet roll on the shelves isn’t a two-woman job,” James appears behind you following the nerve grating squeak from the storeroom door, leaning on the counter with a lopsided smile.

He’s placed the clipboard with all of today’s stock details on the counter, pen tucked neatly under the clip of it. You know he’s here for your signature, cutting the job in half for you by doing the inventory himself. He likes numbers, you hate them, he’s happy to do it so long as he doesn’t have to fix the mess you created in the fag drawers. Besides Sirius, you’re the only person to be trusted in Sirius’ sacred area. Ironically enough. You pick the pen up with a hum, scribbling your name to state you were here when the delivery arrived this morning, “Some poor girl in their form is getting it tight, today. Shauna thinks she’s after her man.”

James laughs airily, “So I shouldn’t go over there and intervene?”

“Best not. I’ll come up with something I need help with in five, ask her to help me. Just need to finish these, first.” You say, waving a packet of JPS Red around so James knows what you’re talking about.

“Thanks,” Is James’ reply, “For the signature and for saving me from getting called a daft bint, or something, behind my back.”

Your laugh is bubbly and comes out of your mouth so fast you don’t have time to be embarrassed about it. It makes James laugh, too, low, and throaty as he taps the pen against the clipboard. He shakes his head and makes his retreat to the office at the back of the storeroom, likely to file the inventory sheet for Monty to look over on Monday. It only takes you a few more minutes to fix the rest of the fags, all in their correct places, all facing the correct way. The clippers are unloaded haphazardly into the tub in the bottom drawer, and then you’re off, on the hunt for Shauna.

She and Lisa have made it to the baby wipes when you come down the aisle that they’re in. Shauna is leaning against the trolley now that she doesn’t have the wall at the end of the aisle to lean on, and she’s passing Lisa the packets one by one. Lisa has her head ducked into the shelf to reach all the way to the back, but Shauna straightens up when she sees you round the corner.

“Hey, you okay to help me build some stuff up in the storeroom to get it off the pallet?” You ask.

There’s an empty box on the trolley that you reach for, pulling it apart until it’s flat and you can stick it inside the bag on the back of the trolley. Shauna gives a longing glance to Lisa, as though being parted from her will bring her physical pain. It’s quite comical, really. A small part of you misses being so young and carefree. Shauna nods, following you to the storeroom.

James is holding the door open on your way past, “I’ll keep an eye on the till.”

You thank him and Shauna follows you through. There’s not much to be unloaded, really. You and James got the majority done this morning when it arrived, and so its overstock that’s left. Shauna follows your lead, knowing by now where everything goes. There’s cereal and biscuits, teabags and coffee jars, there’s alcohol and fizzy juice. Shauna doesn’t talk much while you work, which isn’t surprising. She’s rather quiet and subdued with the rest of the staff, most of the time. Without Lisa to bounce off of, Shauna doesn’t usually say much.

“How long have you and James been together?” Shauna asks out of nowhere.

It’s less surprising to hear her starting conversation than the question she’s actually asked, which is saying something. The box of ready salted crisps in your hands go toppling backwards from where you’d been reaching to put them on top of the pile as you twist to face her, eyebrows somewhere near your hairline. The girl looks nonplussed, lifting a crate of Red Stripe and placing it with the other alcohol against the wall closest to the door.

“Sorry?”

You can’t quite find the words, brain reeling at a mile a minute because have other people noticed whatever game you and James are playing and assumed you’re together? That’s incredibly embarrassing and unprofessional. Shauna doesn’t seem to notice your confusion as she barrels on, seemingly in her own world, “It’s just cause, me and this boy from school have been going out for, like, a month, yeah?”

She doesn’t actually wait for your response as she picks up another crate of beer and sticks it on top of the pile she’s created, “And this girl from my form keeps trying to text him. He’s told me he’s ignoring her, but I dunno if I believe him.”

“Right.” You say, a bit dazed, trying to keep up with what she’s saying whilst trying to put together what this would have to do with you and James.

“I guess I’m just wondering what you’d do if it was another girl trying to get with James. Like, would you go barmy?” Shauna asks, and you can tell there’s a hint of insecurity in there somewhere.

Picking up the crisps you’d dropped rather ungracefully, you tell her, “Well, James and I aren’t together. Like, at all. But if it was someone I really liked, I’d be a bit upset, I suppose. If he says he isn’t replying, I’d believe him until he gives you a reason not to.”

Shauna seems pleased with that answer, but feels the need to add, “Anyone would think you and James are together. Or, at the very least, shagging.”

There’s really nothing you can say to that, is there? It knocks the wind out of you, flusters you, and concerns you all at once. What do fifteen-year-olds know about shagging? Well, you suppose it’s all your friends wanted to talk about at fifteen, too. But. Well. No. Just, no.

“Right,” Shauna breaks your flustered silence by dusting her hands on the side of her trousers, “That it, then?”

Right enough, the pallet is empty. You open your mouth to talk but find nothing will come out, so you close it and nod. She files out of the storeroom after shooting you a weird glance but doesn’t feel the need to add anything more. You count tins of beans until your brain decides it can function again.

“The Saturday Girls have got to go.” You tell James when you slip behind the till ten minutes later.

He breaks his focus from the screen the security camera’s run on, eyebrows narrowed in concern, “She said something?”

You wave your hand, 'nothing too bad', it signals, “Asked how long we’ve been shagging.”

James promptly chokes on air, pounds his chest a few times with wide eyes. You wonder if you should be offended, or if he’s just genuinely surprised Shauna was so brass necked about the whole ordeal. You settle on a nod and a placating look, exactly, you think.

“She’s like, twelve.”

Huffing a laugh, you correct him, “Fifteen, actually. But still, I dropped a box of crisps, nearly toppled the whole tower I was so gobsmacked.”

“What,” James laughs after, “at the suggestion of shagging me, or her boldness?”

If there’s one thing James Potter knows how to do, it’s get under your skin. He’s wearing that signature knowing smirk, the one he wears when he’s thinking something mischievous, or he knows exactly what you’re thinking, feeling, like he can see right into your soul. He’s a prick, you decide. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The thing is: this game is slowly spiralling into more than you can handle. It’d started as an easy way to irritate Sirius, then an even easier way to make the boring shifts go in quicker, then it was just fun. Watching the way his tongue pokes the side of his cheek when he’s considering a rebuttal, or trying to hide a smile, the way his jaw clenches when you come in on your days off wearing tight clothes, only to perch yourself on the edge of the counter and promptly tease him all day. It’s fun. But now it’s too much. James is too much. Because at the start, he’d get shy and flustered, brush you off in a polite manner. But now. Well, now he’s an evil shit who likes to make you weak and hot and bothered and all of the in-betweens every chance he gets.

“Jamie,” You smile, sweet as honey, eyes doe-like and offering him the challenge, “You couldn’t handle me.”

The minute James shakes his head, hair flopping to the side, tongue pushed into his cheek, you know you’ve won this round. He slinks off to find another job for Shauna to do, who you can see on the security cameras has gone back to passing Lisa things off of the trolley.

Twenty-six tins of beans. There are twenty-six tins of beans in the storeroom.

-----

The rota goes like this: Monday: Monty, open. You and James, close. Tuesday: Sirius and James, open. Remus, close. Wednesday: Effie, open. Monty, close. Thursday: Remus and James, open. You and Sirius, close. Friday: Sirius, open. Effie, close. Occasionally James, close. Saturday: You and James, open. Effie and Monty, close. Sunday: Monty, open. You and Remus, close.

The open shift runs from seven o’clock in the morning, until two in the afternoon, and the close shift runs from two o’clock in the afternoon, until ten o’clock at night. Potter’s is the only shop in the village open until ten, and it’s a busy shop because of this. Probably, also, because the Potters are well known, well liked, and well respected.

But the main thing to note about the rota is that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are never scheduled to work a shift together. Ever. The simple reason is because they don’t get on. Like, despise each other for a reason that is unbeknownst to you, and even James, who is Sirius’ best friend in the entire world, his brother. Personally, you think their beef is pointless. But the delivery driver who dropped off the Saturday pallet five months ago and ended up having to break up a petty argument between the two would likely disagree. Apparently, some harsh words had been said between the two, and after the Potter’s decided Sirius was just as much an instigator as Remus was easy to snap, and that both of them were irreplaceable as workers, the new rota was made, stapled to the office wall, never to be changed, and with their names never beside each other.

It’s strange, to you, because Sirius and Remus are both lovely. You enjoy working with both of them. Separately, of course. They seem to know that in the situation of their hatred of each other, you and James are both Switzerland. You’ll listen to them rant about each other, sympathise with their feelings, but ultimately add nothing of note to the conversation. Sometimes you think that bothers them more. Unfortunately, there’s no avoiding their hatred of each other every Saturday in the pub, but they’ve become increasingly better at tolerating each other’s presence. It no longer ends in one or the other storming out of the pub or offering to meet each other outside for a scrap. Small wins. You’ve no idea where they get the energy to put so much effort into their animosity towards each other. A small part of you actually thinks they enjoy getting each other riled up to the point of snapping, the same way you and James do, just with more insults and less innuendos. Each to their own, you suppose.

Remus has his foot kicked up against the wall with a fag in his hand when you near the shop door. He’s staring across the road at the small play park, looking rather lost. There’s a group of kids on the swings, laughing and chatting away. They’re young looking. Ten, maybe eleven. When he notices you, Remus seems to snap out of whatever daydream he’s in, eyes softening and his lips turning upward into a smile. It pulls at the scar slicing across his cupids bow, taught, but paling out at the stretch. There’s a number of scars that litter Remus’ skin, the product of a nasty car crash he was in as a child. You don’t notice them as much, now, as when he first started working at Potter’s. They’re just part of who he is, and they make him no less handsome.

“Here even on your day off,” Remus tsks, passes you the cigarette.

You have a draw, blowing out the smoke with the ghost of a teasing smile on your lips, “Someone’s got to mind the till on your eighteen fag breaks.”

Remus laughs, accepting of the jab, “Monty’s in today. Shops not totally unmanned.”

“Ah,” You hum, passing him the fag back, “Unusual for him. He usually runs off the minute his shift finishes.”

He nods, sandy hair flopping in a mess of curls on top of his head. “Something about having to find a new supplier, the drivers for Zonko’s are complaining about having to drive into the village.” Remus speaks through an exhale, the wind carrying the smoke along the street.

He flicks the fag to the ground and follows you inside, finding his place behind the till whilst you meander down the aisles, still content in having the conversation, “That’s ridiculous. It’s only fifteen minutes off the motor way.”

Remus makes a noise of agreement but doesn’t say anything else until you return to the till with a cherry lolly and a magazine. He looks at your purchases with an enhanced non-surprised glance, eyes flicking up to ask with a simple look if you could be any more predictable. You shrug, hand him a fiver, and he passes you your change.

“Think they’re just annoyed because the only road into the bloody place is always closed because that daft Mr. Filch keeps forgetting to shut his gate and the cows always escape.” Remus comments, closing the till.

You take up your usual space, to the left of the till, leg tucked under you, subconsciously kicking the specials stand with your free foot. The customers are never surprised to find you sitting here. Most of them often comment that you’re like the store’s very own cat. Always lurking, happy to sit, and watch the people go about their days. Really, you just like to annoy whoever is working. Unless it’s Effie or Monty. They usually put you to work if you hang around for too long.

“They should really just bolt that bloody fence shut. He’s always losing his cows.”

“He does it on purpose. I don’t know why, yet, but he does.” Remus theorises, his brows furrowed as though it’s some great mystery as to why old Argus Filch is always letting his cows run free, as though he has some ulterior motive.

Perhaps he does. You’ve never given it much thought.

“They should switch to Ollivander’s, anyway. I’ve been telling them for months that they’re better priced. Plus, they’re closer, the delivery charge wouldn’t be as much.” You say, eyes scanning the pages of your magazine.

The cherry lollypop rattles off your back teeth, something you know drives Remus insane. You don’t stop.

“They don’t stock Pettigrew’s butcher meat, though.” Remus counters.

Pettigrew’s Butchers is the most sought-after Butcher meat in the village, and Potter’s is the only place that stock it. It’s what drives in most of the customers, you’d argue. It’s good meat. You’ll give them that. It’s why Effie and Monty have been hesitant to drop Zonko’s as their distributor because they’ll lose their access to Pettigrew’s. Truly a conundrum in the eyes of the village. You flick to the next page, shrugging, “It’s only a forty-minute drive out of the village. Wouldn’t Pettigrew deliver it himself?”

“What, every morning?”

You sigh, long and suffering. This conversation is, truly, boring. You love Remus. You do. Really. But you miss Sirius. Or James. Remus seems off, today. He’s less humorous, less sarcastic. You won’t push. You know he doesn’t like that. But you shouldn’t have to suffer the world’s most boring conversation because of it. Perhaps that’s selfish of you.

“Zonko’s doesn’t even deliver to us, every morning. Just have Pettigrew's tie in with the days we get from Ollivander’s.” You suggest, though, you know there’s nothing Remus can do about it.

It’s a conversation best had with Monty or Effie. Even James. But they’re smart. They’ll likely figure it out on their own. You hop off the counter, pulling the lolly from your mouth as you go, “Either way, it’s going to be a shit few weeks if we don’t have a distributor. I need to go, meeting Sirius for a cuppa at the Leaky.”

You wince as soon as the words come out of your mouth, watching as Remus’ expression falls.

“Hope he chokes on his cuppa.” Remus mutters, though a saccharine smile comes across his lips.

You roll your eyes, pointer finger already aimed at him, “Behave!”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, though you know behaving is the last thing Remus Lupin will ever do when it comes to Sirius Black. It’s ridiculous.

“Give Monty my love.” You say in ways of a goodbye and Remus waves you off.

You pretend not to hear when he tells you to give Sirius the middle finger for him.

-----

“You’re a genius, you know.” Sirius says, sitting your drink down in front of you.

The pub is, strangely, quite quiet. There’s a family of four in the far corner, eating a meal in stoic silence – awkward – and a group of older women by the bar, a bottle of champagne in an ice cooler on the table and bubbling glasses in each of their hands. Of course, you and Sirius were the last to arrive, meeting the rest of your friends at the only large table the Three Broomstick’s own, which lead to him shooing you off to get a seat and buying your drink for you. You won’t complain. Your regular table is already a mess of empty pint glasses from James, Remus, and Frank, and two empty wine bottles from Lily, Mary, and Marlene. Alice is on nightshift at the police station, a lucky feat for everyone because it means there’ll be no tequila shots tonight. Fine by you.

It’s a long table that you all occupy, with two benches running along either side, and no matter how busy the pub is, people always seem to know not to sit there. None of you would mind if they did, really. But it’s just something people don’t do. Your group has been coming to the Three Broomsticks since you were seventeen (not that Rosmerta, the owner, knows that), minus Remus, who moved to town seven months ago, wandered in for a pint one night, and unfortunately for him, got stuck with you lot.

“Mm,” You hum, cheeks puffing out in your pleased smile, “I know. Do feel free to tell me why, though.”

Sirius guffaws, rolling his eyes at your theatrics – as though he isn’t the carbon copy of you, just in male form – “For the Ollivander’s idea. Well, tying it in with Pettigrew’s, at least.”

“What?”

You hadn’t told anyone about that idea. Anyone other than Remus, at least, who looks incredibly sheepish when your eyes flick to him further along the table, conveniently out of arms reach of Sirius. James, who swallows a gulp of his pint before he speaks, looks incredibly cheerful when he says, “Yeah! Dad loved that idea. He didn’t even consider asking Pettigrew’s for a private contract. He didn’t think they’d be up for driving into the village, but turns out the son, Peter, delivers to the next town over twice a week, anyway.”

“Right.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink to wash the awkward feeling that’s settled over you away.

Really, you hadn’t meant to form some type of master plan.

“Sorry.” Remus winces.

“Why’s he sorry?” Sirius is quick to question, ever the one to start an argument, “What’s he done now?”

Remus scoffs, “Funny you think I’ve done something.”

“Well, you were the one apologising.”

“He’s not done anything, Sirius. Give it a rest, both of you.”

That shuts them up.

“I told Monty about her idea after she left on Tuesday.” Remus admits, looking rather sheepish.

Sirius seems placated enough with his answer, so he shrugs and enters into a conversation with Frank and James, who lost interest the minute Remus and Sirius started bickering. You assure Remus that it’s okay, waving him off before nudging your head further down the table, inviting him into the conversation with Lily, Mary, and Marlene.

Lily is complaining about her job in the council office. She’s pretty high up, though, you couldn’t for the life of you tell someone what it is she actually does, had they asked. Something to do with the local MP. There’s a shit tonne of paperwork and multiple people who Lily thinks are, in her words, so far up their own arse, they forget they’re civil servants and not, in fact, the be all and end all of the world. Her job is highly stressful, as is obvious by the empty bottle of wine in front of her, even though it’s not long gone five o’clock. Lily Evans worked incredibly hard to be where she is, though, the fireball of a human that she is, and she’ll be damned to ever give up, now. You admire her, really. She grew up in the village, like all of you except Remus, noticing the prejudice it held, the unfair situations people lived in, the real issues the place held, rather than what every other member of the council saw as ‘issues’, and she went to University, got her degree, came right back, and got to fucking work. She hasn’t solved world hunger yet, but you’re sure she’s well on her way to it. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’ll be Lily Evans.

Mary and Marlene are listening intently, especially Mary, who’s been begging the council to fund the one primary school the village has, Hogwarts, more substantially than it has in previous years. She’s a teacher there, and she loves it with every bit of her being, but the school is incredibly underfunded, so she and Lily have been working on a campaign to bring it to the Council’s attention. They’re making progress. But not as quick as Mary would like. That much is obvious in the way she rants about Lucius Malfoy and his pretentious, pompous, personality. He is a bit of a prick, honestly. He’s the head of the school board committee for the village, and he’s the main reason the school hasn’t received the funding it’s needed in almost ten years. He’s a toad.

Marlene, even though she couldn’t give less of a shit if she tried, is listening, anyway. She’s a good friend, Marlene, but past her friends, her family, and music, there isn’t much Marlene McKinnon really gives a toss about. You commend her for it really, her no-fucks-given attitude towards the world, the way she’s so carefree, and lives her life how she wants, no matter what. She’s laid back and honestly, doing better than the rest of your friends in adulthood. She’s the only one out of the lot of you who hasn’t had a full-scale meltdown, so far, this year. Or ever actually. You don’t remember the last time you saw Marlene truly upset about something.

“Honestly, Mary, you’d think he’d give more of a shit about funding things like the school’s library, considering his wife’s due any day now and his kid will likely attend Hogwarts.” Lily seems truly frustrated, her shoulder slumped, her index finger circling the rim of her wine glass.

“He’ll probably send his little demon spawn to some posh boarding school, knowing him. More money than bloody sense.” Comes Mary’s equally frustrated response.

She necks the rest of her glass in one gulp, shivers, and then sends Marlene off to procure another bottle. She goes without complaint, so you assume it’s her round.

“Surely it’s not legal to withhold funding from a school in such dire need of it.” Remus comments, ever the pessimist.

He thinks the worst of everyone. Especially Mr. Filch and his disappearing cows. He thinks he has an ulterior motive and he’ll die on that hill.

“Apparently there is no funding. And he won’t even push for any, either. It’s like he doesn’t give a shit that the school under his jurisdiction is struggling, majorly.” Lily replies, rolling her bright green eyes at the mere idea of Lucius Malfoy.

“There’s something not right about that.” You add, frowning.

Surely, he’d want his school to thrive. Apparently not.

“You’re telling me.” Mary pipes up.

“Anyway, enough work talk,” Lily says around a gulp of wine, waving her hand like it’ll banish all of the negative vibes Lucius has caused by simply existing, “How’d your date go with the handsome paper boy, Rem?”

Remus grimaces, “Don’t call him a paper boy, it makes him sound twelve years old.”

The story goes: Remus thought that someone was trying to break into his house, last month. Upon inspecting the situation with a baseball bat that everyone knows for a fact Remus does not know how to use, he met a rather startled, rather handsome paper boy named Christopher. Of course, Remus only learned this after he tried to cave the poor bloke’s head in with said baseball bat, only to find out that it was Christopher’s first day on the job and he had delivered the paper to the wrong house. After copious amounts of apologies, Remus had claimed he was fine with never seeing Christopher again. Until he realised that the paper’s he was delivering came directly from Potter’s. A travesty, really. Sirius howled with laughter, much to Remus’ dismay, and Effie had slipped an extra fiver into Christopher’s wages in ways of an apology. Turns out, no apology was needed, because Christopher, for whatever reason, took a liking to Remus and asked him out for coffee.

“Okay, your date with Christopher, then.” Lily corrects with a smirk.

“Wasn’t a date,” Remus singsongs, because he’s insecure and adamant that no one could ever fancy him. Even though you’ve already promised him that if he wasn’t painfully gay, you’d shag him. Lily had then felt the need to add in that if she wasn’t painfully gay, as well, she’d shag him, too. Still, he lives in denial. Idiot.

“Was too.” Marlene says, rather bluntly, returning with the wine which she passes to Mary.

She’s brought a glass for you, too, bless her. You finish the dregs of the drink Sirius bought you and accept the glass of wine Mary passes you with a ‘thank you’.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about.” Remus argues.

“Christopher. The hot paper boy whose skull you nearly caved in with a bat. Keep up, Remus.” Marlene winks at Remus, who simply huffs in defeat, taking a long swig of his pint.

“So?” Mary follows up, never one to let Remus catch a break. She’s almost as bad as Sirius, except she does it in a much more loving, much less spiteful way.

“It went well. We chatted about books.” Remus bobs his head, swallowing thickly.

Sirius is eyeing him from the other end of the table, lips twisted into a mean looking frown. It doesn’t last long before Frank is asking him something to do with motorbikes, and Remus is long forgotten. No one else catches it, so you ignore it.

“Books?” Marlene asks in disgust.

“You spoke about books.” Lily repeats, clearly trying to find some hidden meaning she’s not going to find. You know Remus well enough to know he likely did spend the entire date-that-wasn’t-a-date nattering on about books. He’s a bookworm at his core.

“Yes,” Remus confirms, slightly agitated, “We spoke about books.”

“Right,” Marlene sounds a little deflated, always one for the seedy stories, “Lovely.”

“It was, actually.”

“I’ll bet.”

Remus huffs a laugh and excuses himself under the premise of a cigarette. No one bats an eye, and you watch him leave. It takes Sirius approximately two minutes to excuse himself from his conversation with James and Frank and follow Remus straight out the door to the smoking area. James and Frank continue on, too engrossed to realise the shit show that’s likely to unfold any minute. Lily, Mary, and Marlene fall into a conversation about whatever show the three of them are watching and you stand up, walking around the table until you’re sitting next to James.

He smiles warmly when you sit down, shuffling a little so he can face both you, and Frank who’s across the table.

“Alright,” Frank greets, head tipping forwards.

“Hiya, Frank. How’s Alice?”

Alice is Frank’s wife. They grew up together but didn’t ever get together until they both attended Tulliallan when training to become police officers. They’re sickly in love, it’s actually kind of nauseating at times, but sweet, nonetheless. They’d been daft for each other since they were thirteen.

“She’s good. On nightshift, tonight.”

You hum, sympathising with her. Nightshift is no joke, especially in a village as quiet as yours.

“Uhm,” You turn to James, “Sirius and Remus are in the smoking area. Together. Alone.”

James sighs, takes a swig of his pint, and is up like a shot to stop whatever fight is likely happening in the Three Broomsticks beer garden. He squeezes your shoulder in thanks before he goes, offering you a smile he only ever seems to give you. You can’t read it. But it’s soft. Not the teasing smile he has when you’re flirting merciless with him, or him, you. It’s just. A nice smile. For you. You watch him go; head turned, the ghost of a smile on your own lips. He pushes open the wooden door and it swings shut behind him.

“How longs that been going on then?” Frank asks, nodding his head towards the door James just went through.

“Pretty much since they met, I suppose.”

Frank laughs, which causes you to frown, and then he shakes his head.

“No. You and Potter.”

“There’s nothing going on.” You say, though your face heats up all the same.

“I can keep a secret, you know.”

“Why does everyone think I’m shagging James?” You ask, rather loud for how empty the pub is.

Your face is flames when Lily, Mary, and Marlene fall silent and look over at you, biting back laughs and whatever comments it is that are sparkling behind their eyes. You groan, embarrassed, and turn to follow James out of the door. For a moment, you think he’s allowing a full-on fight between Sirius and Remus occur. He’s standing not far from the door, sheltered by the wooden terrace that leads out to the concrete of the smoking area. It’s dimly lit in comparison to the rest of the beer garden. You frown on approach, confused as to why he’s just standing there.

It takes all of two seconds for you to see what he’s seeing. Remus has Sirius crowded against the wall, caged in like some sort of animal, and he’s kissing him so violently, so aggressively, that they actually could be fighting. In some sick, twisted way.

“Holy shit.”

James’ eyes snap to yours, moving into action to pull you back inside before Sirius and Remus realise they’ve been foiled. His hand burns like fire against your arm, his eyes steely and sharp as he looks down at you, “You cannot tell anyone what you just saw.”

“You knew?”

James shakes his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips. He has you pushed up against the wall, much like Remus did Sirius, and your cheeks heat at the thought. Jesus, they’re more messed up than you thought.

“I suspected.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s not my place. Look, Sirius is – he’s complicated, okay? I don’t know if he even knows he’s – just don’t say anything, okay?” James is flustered, panicked.

You get it. Sirius has never mentioned being gay, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that perhaps, being gay isn’t something that was on Sirius’ radar until Remus popped up out of nowhere and sent his perception of himself tumbling. Okay. Fine. You get that. You can relate. Not entirely. The situation is different. James Potter is a boy you never paid any interest to, growing up. Not romantically, at least. Until he went away to Rugby camp one summer and came back looking like sin incarnate. Well, then you’d noticed, and everything you thought you knew about him came tumbling down. So, not exactly the same, but you get it.

“I won’t, James. I won’t say anything.”

“Not even to Sirius. Or Remus.” James looks panicked, like one wrong move in handling this situation will blow it up royally.

“Promise.”

James nods, seems to realise that he’s still got an iron grip on your arm, and drops it like you’d been the one scalding him. The door opens, washing you both with cool air, and Sirius storms back inside, halting when he sees the way James has you pushed up against the wall.

“You two shagging then?” He asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone you can only assume was brought about by whatever the fuck just happened between him and Remus.

“Jamie wishes,” You plaster a sickly-sweet smile on your face, “He couldn’t handle me.”

With that, you leave them to it, returning to the table and finishing your entire wine in one gulp. The girls are kind enough not to say anything, but Lily gives you a sympathetic glance and refills the glass for you. Frank laughs to himself, you flip him off.

Remus returns a moment later, dodging Sirius and James who are still huddled where you and James just were. He takes a seat, finishes his pint, and calls it a night without another word.

You don’t miss the way James has to grab onto Sirius’ wrist to stop him from following.

--

Ahhhh! The first chapter is out!

I sincerely hope ya'll enjoyed :) Let me know your thoughts.

[milfsloverblog]

hello! I love your Larissa fic and I was wondering if you would write for Jane Murdstone (ik she is a red flag but I’m colorblind) ? Jane and reader are in a secret relationship, maybe a oneshot about reader waking up in Jane’s bed after they spent the night together ? Some fluff and angst ? Thank you 🛐

A/N: Hi anon!! Thank you for your request, sorry it took me so long to write it. I’m in post con/post meeting Gwen depression lol. I hope this exceeds your expectations, I added some smut because why not ? Thank you again for the request <3

Unlace me (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

TW: smut, internalised homophobia, Jane is a tw in herself

You could talk about it for hours, the feeling of waking up next to Jane for the first time. And yet it was indescribable.

—————

Jane had waltzed into your life a few months ago when her brother had married your Lady. You knew right away that she would be trouble, not only in your Lady’s household but in your personal life too.

What had struck you first was, of course, her height. When she had walked into the kitchen where you had been working to introduce herself, you looked up right in time to see her duck to get through the door. Her face had been hidden by her black bonnet and when she finally lifted her head, you dropped the whisk that you had been holding. Her cerulean eyes looked you up and down and the corner of her lips tugged into what you later learnt to be Jane’s way of smiling.

Your Lady had told you that Miss Murdstone would be living at the manor, ostensibly to relieve you of some of the housework. It didn’t make much sense to you as you’d never complain about the number of chores you had to do, but it was not your place to question your Lady’s decision. Quickly after that, the Murdstones siblings moved into the manor.

It didn’t take you long to realise that Jane Murdstone thought of herself as superior to you, and treated you more as her maid than a fellow housekeeper. And so you had found yourself, more often than not, caring for the tall woman’s needs. Not that you minded, you would be a fool to complain about tending to a woman like Jane.

You had been another kind of fool though, for your heart skipped a beat every time Jane’s eyes bored into yours and your knees went weak each time your name was on her lips. You still had a hard time admitting that you had fallen in love. Not only had you fallen for a woman, but a cruel one at that. One who only seemed to acknowledge you when she needed someone to brush her hair or unlace her corset.

But then again, you didn’t mind. You thought there was something deeply intimate in unlacing the woman’s corset, allowing her to close her eyes and take a deep breath as she stretched her back.

Jane rarely said a word as you helped her disrobe before leading her to the dressing table. You would take the pins off her hair and carefully brush through it, your fingers often lingering there for a second too long once you were done braiding it. And if Jane noticed, she never mentioned it.

Once that was done she would usually gesture towards the door, silently letting you know that your help wasn’t needed anymore. You would nod and leave the room, never forgetting to wish the woman a good night. Jane never answered, but as soon as you were out of the room her lips always spread in a small smile as her fingertips grazed her braided hair. Perhaps she was a foolish woman too.

—————————

You knew that evening would be different as soon as the woman stepped foot inside the manor. You heard her climb the stairs two at a time and close her bedroom door a little too vigorously.

“Miss Murdstone ?” You called from the hallway, waiting for permission to walk in. After a few long seconds of silence, you decided to push the door open and walked inside the room. Jane was standing in front of the tall mirror, hands twisted in her back as she unsuccessfully tried to loosen up her corset. She was muttering something under her breath that sounded unintelligible to you, making her look like a crazy woman.

“Let me help you, I will unlace it.” You said as you took a few long strides, hands reaching for the woman’s back.

“Keep your dirty hands off me!” Jane immediately snapped at you, making your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. “I do not need your help. I do not need you, or anyone else for that matter!” She said nearly out of breath, hands still fumbling with the lacing on the back of her corset.

“Jane for Heaven’s sake! You will make yourself faint, let me help!” You said urgently, so urgently that you didn’t notice you had used her first name until she spun around to face you, her eyes wide and her face flushed.

“How dare you ?!” The tall woman spat the words out and raised her hand, making you flinch as you waited for her palm to hit your cheek.

Jane realised what she was about to do as soon as you flinched and her hand immediately dropped to the side of her body. You were scared of her. You were expecting her to hit you. And she almost had.

A strange feeling crept inside the woman’s chest, making her take a step closer to you.

I am so sorry, please forgive me. Jane wanted to say, but she was unable to. She’d never said those words before and they died in her throat before she even managed to push them out to you.

You watched as Jane’s brows furrowed, her mouth falling slightly open as she seemed to be searching for something to say. Her eyes were filled with something you’d never seen in them, something you did not think Jane Murdstone could feel. Remorse. Guilt.

“I love you.” You whispered barely audibly, eyes still locked on her face. You had no idea why you’d said it, but you did. You knew Jane thrived on power, and you had just given her the power to ruin your life with this simple admission.

And so you waited for her harsh and cruel words to hit you, for her to call you unnatural or deviant, but she didn’t. She let out a shaky breath and the next second her lips were crashing against yours.

It wasn’t soft nor sweet, Jane’s kiss was almost as demanding and almost as bruising as she was. You couldn’t help but wonder if she had wanted this for as long as you had, thought about you the way you had thought about her.

You grabbed her waist, your fingers digging into the fabric of her corset as you pulled the woman impossibly closer. Don’t let go, you wanted to say. But you wouldn’t take the risk to pull away from her lips to speak, too afraid to ruin this moment.

Jane eventually broke the kiss, her blue eyes searching for yours. “Speak.” the word came out sounding like an order and she cleared her throat, her voice softer when she added, “Tell me what you want, what this means to you.”

“You.” You answered, your hand moving to cup her cheek. “I want everything you are willing to give me. I have no idea what this means, I simply…want you.”

The older woman blinked a couple of times, taking in your words. When had anyone ever wanted her? She knew what people thought and said about her, most of it being true. But you, you’d always been nothing but nice to her, even when she rarely returned your kindness.

This isn’t right, Jane. You can not, you should not, the thoughts flooded the woman’s mind.

You could see the fight that was happening inside the tall woman and gently rubbed your thumb on her cheek. “Jane…” you whispered and her blue eyes bored into yours again. You got on your tiptoe and claimed the woman’s lips, making Jane’s hesitation wholly dissipate in an instant.

It was only a matter of seconds before Jane took control of the kiss again, her hands grabbing your waist to push you up against the wall.

Your heart started racing in your chest when you felt one of her hands bunching up your dress. You had never done anything like this before and by the look of it, Jane had way more knowledge on the subject than you did.

Her fingers grasped a handful of your hair, tipping your head back to latch her lips on your neck. You couldn’t hold back the whimper that passed your lips when her mouth sucked on a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.

“You are such a sweet girl, offering yourself to me so easily.” She whispered in your ear, her hand slipping inside your knickers only to find you soaked. “Have you been thinking about this ?” She wondered aloud.

You felt dizzy, your head spinning when her fingertips grazed your clit. “Please-“ you whined, not even knowing what you were begging for.

“Please-“ Jane mocked you, a low chuckle escaping her throat.

“Look at me.” She demanded and you happily obliged, the tall woman relishing the way your eyes widened when she pushed two fingers inside you until she was in knuckle deep.

There was nothing like it, Jane thought, watching a woman being made love to for the first time. And to be the one making love to her.

You knew Jane was a passionate woman and the way she pulled and pushed her fingers in and out of you in a perfect rhythm only further proved it. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, the older woman curved her digits inside you to rub on a spot that had you writhing against her in a couple of minutes.

“Can you feel it ?” She asked looking into your eyes. “The coil tightening inside you? How close it is to snapping ?”

You answered something unintelligible, your mind hazy from the incessant movements of Jane’s fingers inside you. All you could focus on were the sinful wet noises coming from between your thighs.

You felt something, yes, something growing inside you and on the verge of exploding. And for a second you feared that this is what dying felt like. Oh, what a beautiful way to go it would be, you thought, to die in the arms of the woman you loved and with her lips on your neck.

“I wish we could let the whole household hear you. What would your lady think knowing you are nothing but a depraved whore, fucking a woman under her roof…” Jane grinned, giving your collarbone a harsh nip.

To hell with your lady and the whole household, you’d let the whole world know you were in love with Jane Murdstone if only you could.

“Look at me, please.” You managed to say, feeling your core tighten around Jane’s fingers when her blue eyes locked with yours.

You threw your head back against the wall, the older woman’s name leaving your lips in a streak of moans as you came.

Jane didn’t let it show, but her heart swelled with a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long while, making her hold you a little closer as you came down from your high.

“I love you, Jane.” You repeated, a small giggle escaping your throat as you watched Jane’s cheeks turn a pinkish colour.

“Silly girl.” She simply answered with a shake of the head and turned her back to you. You quickly unlaced her corset and helped her out of her heavy black dress.

You expected her to dismiss you as soon as you’re done braiding her hair but instead, Jane turned around and unbuttoned your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

“Stay for the night.” You knew it was neither a question nor an offer, not that you would have declined anyway.

It felt weird, lying down next to someone else. Next to her. Next to the woman you loved. You wanted to ask what this meant, if there would be more moments like this, or if it had just been a one-time instance. But you stayed quiet, listening to Jane’s breathing becoming slower and evening out as she fell asleep.

“I love you.” You whispered, knowing the older woman couldn’t hear it this time.

—————————

You watched as Jane’s eyes slowly fluttered open and it was the sweetest thing really, waking up next to the woman you loved. But it made you want to cry knowing it was morning and this moment wouldn’t last. In just a moment she would go back to being the cold and often cruel Miss Murdstone, and you would go back to being a housekeeper. But it didn’t matter, you thought, not now that you knew what it felt like to be kissed by her lips and touched by her hands. No, it didn’t matter anymore. You would walk through Hell and back for a chance to wake up next to her again.

[fierrochase-falafel]

"All the names are changed to protect the innocent"- an analysis of Marvin's use of names

So y'know how in In Trousers, Marvin is the only named character who actually has screentime and all the women in his life are nameless (ignoring his teacher, Miss Goldberg). It's pretty clear this is, to an extent, a sign of Marvin not seeing the women in his life as people in their own right as he appreciates the affection of no woman actively giving him any, and that he only focuses his attention on unattainable women (such as Miss Goldberg) as a form of compulsory heterosexuality and men (Whizzer).

I do, though, think it's interesting to note that in Love is Blind (in March of the Falsettos), Marvin says "Love reads like a bad biography, all the names are changed to protect the innocent". Marvin's experience of love so far has been women whose names he has left unsaid. Given Whizzer refuses to acknowledge he loves Marvin, and Marvin says he loves Whizzer "sorta, kinda", their relationship isn't taken fully into account as love Marvin has experienced. Marvin does admit he loves Whizzer to Mendel later in the "sorta kinda" conversation, but says he would only concede it if Whizzer loved him back, meaning that he refuses to fully accept that love unless Whizzer said he loved him first: Marvin's inner dialogue does not really see Whizzer as part of his vision of 'love' (albeit ironically the only true romantic love he has experienced). Hence, Marvin's experience of love, at this point, really has had his previous lovers' names changed, perhaps to protect them from people recognising them as having engaged with him at all.

Who this decision is protecting, though, depends on who is innocent. Maybe Marvin had some amount of sympathy for both his high school sweetheart and his wife as being innocent victims of loving him when he didn't love them in return. However, in March of the Falsettos, Marvin does say his wife's name for the first time (I think!) in 'Marvin hits Trina', and he says it not 1, not 2 but 8 TIMES. In quick succession. This song takes place immediately after he gets an invitation to Trina and Mendel's wedding. Trina having her own life makes her no longer 'innocent' as he sees her as having betrayed him, so he addresses her by name repeatedly in anger at this.

I think it's also worth noting that from a point of view of innocence, the first whole name revealed in the musical is that of Whizzer Brown. Whizzer is someone Marvin is very well aware of being sexually experienced, which contradicts the idea of innocence as someone naive to concepts such as sex. He sees Whizzer as someone who is not innocent, and so his name is left in fully throughout. The multiple meanings of 'innocent' to both imply sexual inexperience and having done nothing wrong, can also group together having a lot of sexual experience with being guilty of it. The negative connotations of these together subtly shows Marvin's internalised homophobia and conflicted views on Whizzer and his unapologetic flamboyance. One could also say Whizzer is basically a walking pride flag in how he seems unashamed of his personality and life, and his name is also very obviously on display as such as he has nothing to hide or stash away. Arguably that is innocence, but I don't think Marvin sees it that way. Anyways, this is getting a bit convoluted.

Through this one line, even though it seems strange-sounding and just a pretty odd throwaway at first (atleast it did to me on the first few listens), you get a distinct idea of Marvin's view of what is innocent and what is guilty, and who he deems to be innocent in a world where he sees himself as the highest power. Trina and Whizzer, as individuals who disagree with Marvin's views of what is right on a particular front, are guilty. While trying to hide their names initially when mentioning "his wife", "his child" and "his friend" in Tight Knit Family, his opinion of their lives comes out on top in this love-biography he has in his head. He writes the bad biography (even he admits it's bad, funnily enough), and to him they aren't innocent. Obviously he goes through major character development at the end of March of the Falsettos, and this seems to make his use of names less distinct. He says Whizzer's name more softly, with emphasis on love, and I don't think he says Trina's very much at all, maybe letting go with his anger and view of her as 'guilty'. This is last part is largely conjecture though! I'd love to hear more people's takes on this.

Edit: I just realised! In terms of innocence, Miss Goldberg's name being revealed is probably also representative of her adulthood when Marvin's in school, making her seem more 'mature' to him and thus not innocent (given how childhood often connotes innocence.

[katakaluptastrophy]

An aspect of the queer coding of Abigail and Magnus' relationship that I've not really seen people discuss is how Harrow's response to them manifests as a sort of internalised homophobia (for lack of a better word).

The idea that there's an explicit taboo against romantic or sexual relationships between necromancers and cavaliers is introduced in A Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers at the end of GTN (a text that for the most part reskins Ephesians 5 to be about necromantic aptitude instead of patriarchy...).

It says in no uncertain terms that "the love of the cavalier for the necromancer, and the necromancer for the cavalier, is not the love of a spouse. It cannot be libidinous", that "after a myriad of thought about the matter, marrying your cavalier remains taboo at best", and that "there have been those who have argued eloquently that [necro/cav marriages are] traitorous to the ideals of the Necrolord Prime."

It then specifically addresses Fifth House practice, saying "There is still a precedent in the Fifth for spouses to become a cavalier at particular times, but this is regarded as a stubborn holdover that is characteristically Fifth to not remove from their practise." (Fifth House necro/cav marriages seem to use the same logic as married Orthodox clergy - the marriage can precede the ordination/cavalier vows, but the other way around would be unacceptable.)

In HTN, the taboo against necro/cav relationships is mentioned twice. When Harrow is interviewing Augustine, he describes his cavalier as having been "my other half" and Harrow has a visceral reaction:

You were momentarily revolted by the apparent Fifth House tradition. “You and your cavalier were—wedded?”

This, of course, is the same Harrow who, prior to a spot of DIY lobotomy, exchanged what seemed very like wedding vows with her cavalier (who is now narrating that feeling of revulsion from inside her head).

When Harrow awakes in her River bubble, she immediately repeats part of those maybe-vows and says "Griddle". Shortly thereafter, while helping the gang prepare to banish the Sleeper, we find her very pointedly observing Abigail and Magnus:

"She watched Abigail and Magnus cross on tiptoe, nimbly dodging any line that their shoes might scuff, and in passing turn and kiss each other gravely. She was not embarrassed to see this intimacy; in fact, she found that it was vaguely interesting to see a marriage play out in front of her. There were many strictures against a necromancer marrying their own cavalier, and whatever road Abigail and Magnus had chosen to walk had been a difficult one: she knew that the marriage had preceded the cavaliership, which perhaps had made it less grotesque for both. They kissed as chastely and briefly as children; Magnus touched her cheek and said quietly, “Godspeed, my darling,” and she said, “You too.” That was all. No more, and no less."

We've not been party to any internal monologue Harrow may have had observing the Fifth before, but here she's clearly working through a number of complicated feelings: her interest in a relationship like this, an acknowledgement of the difficulty these kinds of relationships face in light of social and religious taboos against them, and then an odd swing back round to the language of revulsion, as if she's reigning herself back in before she can let herself think about it too much.

Part of the taboo that is causing Harrow to have such visceral reactions is the idea that a necro/cav marriage somehow sullies the spiritual beauty and purity of cavaliership with its unacceptable introduction of the erotic. There's something terribly poignant about Harrow having this reaction even watching Abigail and Magnus' chaste kiss, and what a deeply internalised sense of shame she must have about her own feelings.

But it also makes me wonder how often Abigail and Magnus had to police their behaviour. Because even if their relationship is tolerated, it will always be interpreted less charitably. There's just something very sad about imagining high protocol situations with Magnus silently walking half a step behind Abigail, both very aware of the need to make sure that they embody one relationship and not the other.

It all happens rather in passing in the middle of the plot picking up, but it's a poignant little moment of Harrow grappling with the implications of her and Gideon, what their relationship has been and has become, and what it perhaps will be.

[fetchen]

Hey!! How do you think Karen and Gretchen got together?

oh boy i’m about to YAP.

i think karen and gretchen had both had mutual feelings for each other for YEARS but dealt with their feelings in different ways.

gretchen had had feelings for karen since at least eighth grade/freshman year. the majority of this time was spent in denial of her feelings. for a long time, gretchen struggled to even acknowledge the fact that she liked girls, both because of insane internalised homophobia and the fact that she saw what had happened to janis after she came out. she never wanted the same thing to happen to her. she tried for a long time to convince herself that the love she felt for karen was normal for any straight girl to feel for her best friend. never mind the fact that she sometimes caught herself imagining karen in jason's place when she was with him.

karen, on the other hand, had always been a lot more open with her sexuality. in a way, being the “slut” of the group afforded karen a lot more room to experiment and explore herself than gretchen or regina had. unlike gretchen, karen often thought about her feelings for the other. it was insanely simple for karen to understand that she had romantic feelings for her best friend. her attitude toward it was what would happen, would happen. she didn’t go out of her way to make her feelings known. karen knew she was happy just staying friends with gretchen because all she wanted was for her to be in her life.

fast forward to their junior year and everything changes so fast. cady moves to north shore and joins the plastics. her arrival is, in a way, the catalyst for karen and gretchen confronting their feelings for each other.

gretchen breaks up with jason (maybe dumps is a better term after the way she ate him up) during junior spring fling and karen truly could not have been happier that her friend is finally breaking things off with this guy that clearly didn’t care about her. after a little while, the lights and the music get a little overwhelming for gretchen so karen goes with her when she goes outside to get some fresh air.

they talk and talk and talk, so much longer than they expected to and, somehow, their conversation shifts to jason. to gretchen and his breakup that had just taken place and for a while, gretchen doesnt speak. instead, while they’re sitting together on the steps outside the gymnasium, gretchen kisses karen. and karen kisses her back.

they reenter the dance unsure of the state of their relationship but so, so happy. now, they know for sure that they have each other and that’s more than enough.

that night, karen sleeps over at gretchen’s place.

[simons-no1-defender]

YOU KNOW WHAT’S AN AMAZING WILMON MOMENT WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT NEARLY ENOUGH?? The book discussion scene. First of all, the little smiles at each other before, shut up don’t even talk to me. But then!!! when they start talking about the main character struggling with internalised homophobia and they’re just looking at each other knowing damn well. And then Wilhelm says you wish she could just ignore it, but not all of it is external, it’s also partly her fault (acknowledging how he too played a role in how all the shit with the royal family messed up him and Simon’s relationship, where before he said he wasn’t like his family). BUT THEN Simon says that the mc has been forced into this and she can’t just throw everything she knows abt right and wrong out the window (not disagreeing with wilhelm, but also finding it in himself that, despite how hurt and angry wilhelm’s actions made him feel, he can finally understand and forgive Wilhelm for all he’s done). Like this is the moment where they come together to see things from the other person’s perspective and finally make up AND IT’S SO IMPORTANT AND AMAZING AND WE TRULY DON’T GIVE IT ENOUGH CREDIT!

[shouldiusemyname]

Another Trip to The Shrink Boston

*Note - this is my lens and I highly reccomend reading @wen-kexing-apologist here on cruising which has contributed a lot to the way my generation views homosexuality and gay culture.

Oh man, where do I even begin...?

First of all, just wanna say that this show has my brain stuck in so many loops that I can't see straight (put semi-intended). And Boston, my boy. I love him, but he is a victim of my time (re: the aftermath of cruising culture and HIV).

As I mentioned before, Boston has took upon himself this role in the group and this is the value he sees in himself. He is the slut of the group. I completely agree with @syrena-del-mar 's read of Boston as a Machiavellian prince and one that is a product of my generation. I think it would be even more accurate to say that Boston is the outcome of promoting and embracing the Machivellian Prince traits, as I see him more aspiring to be a Machiavellian prince rather than actually being one (successfully).

I mentioned it briefly here and I would like to go into it further when it comes to Boston. I believe that Boston represents the idea of queerness being the sex you have. I remember growing up in an environment where being gay means having all the sex you can have with all the partners you can get, often more than one at a time. I would hear things like why would they even want to get married? Everyone knows that gay relationships are open relationships. It was so deeply imbeded in the conversation that I vivdly remember the first time I realized that queer people have "normal" relationships just like everyone else.

I want to insert a side note here because @wen-kexing-apologist 's post really made me realize that what I take as a known fact is something that happens very differently today and needs to be explained. So basically (and I'm generalizing here) all of that stems from the discussion around HIV that exposed or brought to light (in a more agressive way) the gay cruising culture. This served as fuel to the fire of gay=sex, Gay men cruising=no gay men have sexually exclusive relationships, etc...

Did I lose you? No? Good!

Because what I wanted to say was that I see all of the above as the idea or blueprint for Boston's character. From his cruising habbits, through his views of sex and virginity to the way he speaks about relationships. It's like hearing the voices I grew up around, which really lead to internalised homophobia disguised as anti-heteronormativity. (For the record, I don't think that anti-het.norm. equals homophobia, but I do think that this specific case has homophobic roots)

It's very much like the ideas that guide toxic male behavior. Boston lies and manipulates. He says what he thinks his pray wants or needs to hear in order to stay submissive. Take Nick for example - I fully believe that Nick would have been just fine accepting his status as fuck buddy without the manipulation. He would have stayed for the sex and crumbs of attention, fully acknowledging that this is what he can get.

However, Boston was taught to believe that sex requires manipulation, that everyone you sleep with more than once will catch feelings, and that you must string them along with false promisses of more than sex if you want them to keep being there waiting (so, pretty much how toxic men view women when it comes to casual sex - leading to views of gay men as being women rather than men who like men).

Ok, back to Boston and Nick! Just look at Nick's face journey here - he's not buying any of it.

See, Nick is getting a ton of mixed messages from Boston and he is COnFuSed! He isn't asking because he wants to hear 'be my boyfriend', he's asking because he honestly can't figure out what the hell is happening!

Boston forgets that if he wants to keep Nick around he needs to switch up his lines as they only work for one night stands. Now, he has Nick hearing all his 'I never go back for seconds' and 'you're my favorite' bs and he starts asking himself should I be reading something into this? Because he knows who Boston is and I really believe that he wouldn't have asked about their status otherwise. But, when Nick asks (cos he is just so so so confused bless him), Boston panics. He never (I'm assuming) had to deal with this before so instead of getting out, he just digs a deeper hole and moves in permanently. In his mind, he will never get to have just the sex with Nick if there is no promise of something more. So he promises, and keeps promising, with words, and actions.

Again, Nick is no buying this. He is sus af.

And no one was asking for this Boston. You came up with it ALL ON YOUR OWN!

I will carefully say that from what I've seen before and my personal experiences with the Bostons of this world, if he doesn't get out of the hole he will find himself catching feelings that he has no tools to deal with. Boston is enjoying the intimacy more than he's wiling to admit, but it will catch up to him. Once it does he's going to panic-react all wrong. He's going to kick Nick as far away from him as he can, making Nick believe it's his own fault. When in fact, none of this would've happened if Boston had not been such a victim of his own persona.

So basically, whatever happens next is ALL on Boston.

As usual, thank you for sticking it out and hope this makes sense 💜

[sneezemonster15]

🥴 in the fic naruto says sakura and ino were the prettiest girls in their class and somehow sasuke has the balls to ignore them following him around like puppies. he says hinata is really pretty lol. itachi is apparently the second prettiest after sasuke and he thinks it might be a tie between him and kakashi. gaara, neji, tsunade, tenten, kiba and lee are all apparently pretty to him too. there's this scene where he gets drunk and kisses ino, kiba, sai and lee, no internalised homophobia in sight. sasuke goes on and on about sakura and how he has a deep love for her, longs for her and feels affection for her, though he admits it's not in the way she wants. he even thinks she sees through him lol. but the really weird thing is how sasuke doesn't understand how he feels about naruto in the fic. he can admit he loves sakura in the start of the fic (and he can tell that it's not romantic on his end), but he has to have this big epiphany about loving naruto only at the end lol. and sakura obviously becomes so much more understanding lol. I think they're talented and i did enjoy reading the story, but they said they were writing everyone in character so this stuff bothered me 😞

What has always bothered me about fanfics is how they simply do not get how closetedness functions in a homophobic and heteronormative society. I don't know if the writer is American or from some other western country. But as long as you are claiming to be canon compliant, maybe actually research how homosexuality or coming out of the closet would look in societies where it is not acceptable. Konoha/shinobi world is not only heteronormative, but downright homophobic. I mean, Sakura thinks they are brothers because she doesn't know what else to call it, she is homophobic herself, and she knows Sasuke and Naruto are just way too close for being just friends, she could have told Sai they were very good friends, but one of the problems in this world is also a lack of terminology, resulting from a lack of familiarity and comfort with the topic of homosexuality but which is essentially required in order to assign names to certain feelings and relationships and dynamics that are seen as unconventional or different from the norm. Developing a certain terminology is important in order to understand interpersonal issues that are deeply embedded in the socio political fabric. You need a certain level of comfort with the idea of it to introduce and develop this terminology. I have a few gay friends in my circles and one of them has been in a long term partnership with a much younger man. The younger man is closeted and they live together, but he hasn't come out to his family or close friends. Although his family does stay over and they think their son lives with his Teacher. And they are fine with it. They are deeply conservative people and staunchly heteronormative, which is why he hasn't come out and I am pretty sure they have an idea about his sexuality, even if it is unsaid and full of obfuscation. But they don't wanna take action because being with the Teacher has been good for his career and he is able to send money to them to contribute to their household. There isn't just one reason of course, but invariably, whenever his friends or family come over, they never acknowledge their relationship even though it is so obvious. They call it a teacher student relationship who incidentally also cohabit. There's a lot of denial going in there, but it's understandable in their circumstances.

I get the feeling that they aren't totally comfortable with the idea but they are also under certain obligations themselves and they are grateful to the Teacher. But you see, the terminology is missing. There's also a major class difference.

Often in homophobic societies, and I live in one, there is so much taboo, prejudice, obfuscation and lack of information/comfort/familiarity around the idea of same sex relationships, that it's difficult to carry on a dialectic with the proper assignment of terms. Gay or homosexual is not a word anyone will use here. They will use a slang word, which denotes something derogatory. Or if they wanna deny it altogether, they will use some other word for it. Like brother or sister. Or best friend, or room mate, or Teacher. It's such a common phenomenon to reduce, invisibilise and trivialize homosexuality by giving it names that are incongruent with the actual nature of the relationship. It's almost criminal how much this invisibilisation is normalised.

I remember when I was very young, like 12 years old, I was in the car with my mother and her friend. And her friend was crying because her sister was not agreeing to marry. Marrying here invariably means heterosexual, heh, it's just a social reality. Because she had shacked up with her 'best friend', another girl, her college friend. They lived together and she would keep rejecting offers that the parents suggested to her. She was of the perfect age to marry and they were worried her golden age would pass her by and she would become a spinster, of course they blamed her best friend for it. Lol.

Now the thing is, there was a strange tonal quality to the term 'best friend' in her voice. She was weeping and I just couldn't understand why it would be a problem if her sister wanted to stay with her best friend. Lol. I thought it would be so much fun. Hahaha. I was very young. I remember asking my mother about it later and she shushed me telling me it was none of my business and not to talk to anyone about it. And it puzzled me even more.

Make no mistake, language is an inherently important and indispensable part of postulating and hence comprehending socio-politico-cultural issues and concepts, and as a result, navigating interpersonal dynamics and understanding. It's not a coincidence that this manga stresses so much on the importance of 'communication', and Naruto's character is point blank shown to stress on it, it's one of the most important lessons he learns in the course of the manga. You can't understand emotions without verbalising them in your head. Linguistics is an inseparable part of comprehension, whether it's about computing internal or external data, or both in conjunction. And when it comes to storytelling, it becomes one of the most important building blocks of expression and getting the story across to the readers or viewers. Naruto is shown to stress on communication in Boruto as well. And we see throughout the course of the Naruto and Shippuden manga, how Naruto comes to learn about and understand different characters' and especially anti heroes' feelings and resentments directed towards their dystopian world. In the kage arc, he says to Sasuke on the bridge - Sasuke, we will never be able to understand each other by words alone, we can only communicate properly by using our fists. Maybe if we can understand each other, I can change all that hate, like Iruka sensei did for me.

And yet, in the climax of Shippuden, at Sasuke's insistence, it was Naruto's words that finally resulted in Sasuke's resolution, which finally broke through to Sasuke. Because those words showed his understanding. His feelings. His love. For Sasuke.

Kishi is a well read, well informed author. It shows in his work, even the different sources he takes inspiration from, such as Monzaemon Chikamatsu and acclaimed seinen mangas. Stories and characters don't come out of oblivion.

Homosexuality having the status of taboo itself means that there will be a dearth of conversations around it, there will be a lack of normalisation around it. It will carry a weight of malignance around it, something unnatural, something dirty, shameful. There is a lot of shame attached to this topic, which explains the lack of terminology around it, or appropriate wordage around it. Calling them boyfriend or girlfriend is not so acceptable in conservative societies. Or lovers, same sex partners. 'Partners' is something that I have noticed to be more prevalent in current times around me. But it's also evident that it is vague. Purposely so. It's to minimise judgment.

And this is something I see consistently in this manga. There is so much going on throughout, as to what term to assign to this relationship between Naruto and Sasuke. Sakura calls them brothers but she knows they aren't. She is suspicious of Naruto when he says Sasuke is much better looking than Sai and then backpedaling about it. She fake smiles. Also, if she thought they were brotherly, she wouldn't have felt so threatened by Naruto. She tries to create distance between them, all to no avail sure, but she is obviously insecure about her own position in their equation. She doesn't stand anywhere in it, but she does think Naruto comes between her and Sasuke, and their special relationship threatens her intentions towards Sasuke. Similarly, Kakashi thinks it's because they are 'rivals' and tells the same thing to Jiraiya, who compares Naruto and Sasuke with himself and Oro, when Naruto and Sasuke's relationship is not really like theirs in essence. We also know that Kakashi is not the most reliable person when it comes to understanding emotional and interpersonal nuances. Just like Sai isn't, who thinks Naruto loves Sakura. Similarly, Minato tells Naruto that his 'best friend' is about to arrive on the battlefield. People in Konoha give so many names to their relationship and yet, Sasuke insists Naruto define it for him in chapter 698, because he wants to hear it from Naruto.

Naruto himself struggles so much in this regard. It always bothered me why Sasuke was not affected positively when Naruto wondered if Sasuke was like his brother. Sasuke had a brother and then, he almost as good as lost him in a way. He was certainly very fond of Naruto, if he thought of Naruto as brotherly, he should have been pleased, no? Narratively, even if he tried to deny feelings that might potentially weaken him, he is pensive or annoyed or even displeased when Naruto says they are friends or brothers. Never pleased, not even a smile. And he is capable of smiling when it comes to Naruto.

But he never does. He keeps asking Naruto to define the relationship, he isn't happy even when Naruto says they are friends. Which is why Sasuke is PUSHED, albeit with reticence, to ask - You have said that before but what does it exactly mean to you?

This is so nuanced and so understandable. He wants Naruto to assign a term to it. It's significant, it's important. A term that explains their feelings accurately so they both know. They live in a world that doesn't have the terminology to support same sex relationships, they have no frame of reference as to how to talk about it. They struggle with talking about their feelings in the first place. Their communication game is lacking. Their world only taught them how to exchange blows, not words. So a perceptive Sasuke demands a term that rightly defines it. Because 'brotherhood' or 'friendship' is not cutting it. Obviously. Naruto had been calling him a friend all this time.

Even here, the dissonance. The words Naruto uses feel incommensurate with the term 'friend' no? Like seriously what other friends in this manga act or talk like this for the other? Sasuke is his 'friend' and a bond like that can Never be broken. But we as readers, know from context that bonds of friendship were broken in this manga, what with Oro and Jiraiya or Sakura and Ino (for very frivolous reasons too), and later, with Kakashi and Obito. If there were no nuances to their relationship, I would have gladly ignored it. But then Naruto goes on to say what he would do to Oro (shivers, lol) to protect Sasuke. Like just the lengths he is ready to go to. And it fits with the idea that Naruto's feelings for Sasuke are way more intense than just friends, consistent with how they seem with each other in part one, especially vote one. Naruto dilly dallies between so many terms for Sasuke. A friend. A rival. A comrade. A brother. On the one hand, Sasuke consistently uses very emphatic terms for his feelings for Naruto when he says Naruto is his closest friend or his one and only friend, Naruto's terms for Sasuke are always a lot incommensurate with his actions towards Sasuke. And it invariably creates a dissonance in the reader's mind. Kishi manipulates the reader very successfully. Also, we all know that Kishi uses his kanji for these two characters very carefully, as he has said in his interviews as well. Apart from visuals, this is also written media, language and wordage is indispensable to storytelling.

But AT THE END, Sasuke gets mad, and asks him point blank, as to what exactly it means to him and right on cue, given this is a conclusive chapter and Naruto can't say the same shit he has been saying before this (which DID NOT satisfy Sasuke), that even if Sasuke were ask him to explain it, he doesn't know either.

He doesn't know. He has been going through the motions for such a long time. We have seen him getting insecure about his sexuality many times. Like Kishi made so many of his scenes layered, just to point it out to the reader. That he is a closeted homosexual, he suffers from comphet and internalised homophobia as a result. This panel, which is towards the very end, explains so much.

Kishi is not a fool. He is a very clever author. This depicts Naruto's struggle about his sexuality so much. He obviously wants to make sure that his LAST conversation with his father is meaningful and that everything his parents wanted Naruto to be and achieve, Naruto will satisfy. Naruto wants to assure Minato, and he doesn't wanna lie. But he also cannot make himself say it. This boy who always wanted family, finally met them through a stroke of luck (or fate) but his was still a special case. He goes into such detail about everything, everything Kushina asked him to do, all the ninja taboos, but he broke down at that moment, about women. That it should be a woman he must marry is pretty much implied no? More than implied, it's a heteronormative society after all. Kishi is NOT stupid, this was a very smart way of layering his internal turmoil, his struggle with his sexuality because he loves a BOY. Not a woman.

And thing is, all this is very realistic. Very. It has been a persistent element/trope in most coming of age films that I have seen about homosexuality. Except for films like Love, Simon (very surface level and simplistic) or 'Call me by your name' because Elio has very forward thinking parents and he lives in a very affluent and liberal society. He doesn't have the same kind of hangups about his sexuality. But films like Esteros (Brazil), Eternal Summer (China), Beach Rats (America), Giant little ones (Canada), Posledice (Polish), And then we danced (Georgia), The Blonde one (Argentina), Brokeback Mountain (America), Free Fall (German) and more, all of these films are about sexual coming of age drama or sexual awakening and have the same tropes. Comphet. Denial. Internalised homophobia. Emotional turmoil. Dilemma. Burden of societal expectations. Pain. Misery. Confusion. Even rage.

And these are really good films too. Very thoughtfully made.

There are so many complex facets to homosexuality and coming to terms with or even acknowledging it is such a complex and difficult process for young, naturally insecure, and dilemma ridden (moral dilemma included) individuals in a conservative society. Naruto always wanted to be acknowledged and not shunned from society, he didn't want to be ostracized, not after everything he went through, and certainly not to disappoint his parents. In fact, kage arc was very definitive for Naruto. But throughout Shippuden, he has been going through the motions. When Sai seems like he has defected to Oro, Team Kakashi, Yamato specifically, confronts him, and Naruto is like - Who cares what he has to say, Sai is a traitor.

He has strong feelings about Konoha.

But when he hears about Sasuke joining Akatsuki, he is worried. Puzzled, in a quandary. So many people, people he likes and respects, tell him to make the right decision, it being to capture or kill Sasuke. But he cannot do it. He goes through a very terrible time, he is wracked with worry and conflicting emotions and internal struggle. He takes his time to come to terms with all his emotions. And then finally, when he hears that Sakura is out to kill Sasuke (lolol, sorry couldn't help it), something snaps in place inside him and he makes his decision. No matter what, no matter what, Sasuke will not be hurt. Naruto will take care of it. The idea of Sasuke being hurt imminently makes the decision for him and it just clicks to him where his priority lies. He will not kill Sasuke. And if it comes to that, that it's between killing him and protecting Konoha, he will protect Konoha but also, die with him. He is not your typical hero in that sense. He takes the middle path. A hero would typically let go of his personal wishes for the greater good. But Naruto's personal wishes are for Sasuke to live and be happy, no matter what happens. He told Itachi that when the time comes, and if Sasuke attacks Konoha, he will make the right decision. This is his decision. The point is, he will simply not live in a world without Sasuke. He refuses. He will remain a fool and die but not live without Sasuke. He doesn't care about any fucking thing if Sasuke isn't in his life.

Kage arc made him realize that his feelings for Sasuke were bigger than being hokage and Konoha. And so he chose a path where he didn't compromise with the safety of Konoha's people and yet, didn't let Sasuke down. Sasuke must live or he will die.

So by now, Naruto certainly knows that his feelings for Sasuke are not 'normal', even if he didn't say it, but that's the feeling the reader gets. And because we know the context of shinjuu, we know it's supposed to be romantic. The idea of double suicide carries a lot of heft in South East and East Asian literature, classic and popular, whether it be Chikamatsu, the greatest Japanese dramatist who wrote almost exclusively on the subject, and South East Asian stories such as Heer Ranjha, Mirza Sahiba, Sohni Mahiwal, Sassi Punnun, etc. And these stories are part of the popular romance lore, they are extremely popular.

So when Sasuke asks him angrily and insistently (the kanji that Kishi uses here depicts Sasuke to be emphatically triggered), Naruto knows what Sasuke is referring to and he knows he cannot lie about it. But he also cannot say it. He has a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders. But he also cannot lie to Sasuke. Of course, this being shounen, Kishi also had to navigate carefully. But the BIG difference is that Naruto stops lying. Lying probably is not the right term. Misstating. He owes it to Sasuke to tell him the truth. And he tells him, that he doesn't know what to call it, but he knows how it feels. So what he essentially does is that he explains the underlying sentiment to Sasuke by telling him that he hurts when Sasuke does, but that he won't name (explain it) it because he doesn't know it himself. It's such a feeling that Naruto cannot name it. Now, we as readers ALREADY know that he has already used terms like brother, rival and friend. But he deliberately moves away from all of those. Let's not forget that Naruto's most important strength was his talk no jutsu, his ability to connect and put it in words that finally affected the antagonist or anti hero archetypical characters in such a way, that would lead to their resolution. Naruto is different from others in this very sense, to be able to communicate in the right way. But Sasuke was his greatest test in this manga. And he couldn't convince him, he kept misstating the nature of their relationship, but towards the climax of the story, it was important for him to say the right words to Sasuke, especially after Sasuke asked so insistently, so passionately. Because he owes it to Sasuke to tell him the truth. He cannot deny it anymore. Not after all that has happened. So we know from context that it isn't any of those terms or feelings that he used before. But it's something else altogether. What else could it be? Sasuke obviously suspected it. Or else he wouldn't have gotten triggered like this. And with exactly these heavily heartfelt words of Naruto's, when he tells Sasuke that he hurts when he sees Sasuke carry his burden, so much that he just can't leave it alone, and that he would keep fighting for Sasuke, no matter what it takes, Sasuke is finally, finally also led to his resolution, no? He says with such a peaceful expression on his visage - I have lost.

He finally accepts Naruto's love, he finally lets the love in.

Dialogue is very intricately linked to narrative and visual language, but it's so evident, it doesn't need to be said.

We also cannot ignore the way they speak to each other. Kinda like, in codewords.

When two world class shinobis trade blows, they can read each other's thoughts. So tell me, did you see what's in my heart Sasuke? How I really feel? We are not the same kids who fought here once, you know my heart, and I yours, right Naruto? If you know, then why are you doing it? That's exactly why i am doing it. Don't make me repeat it Sasuke, you already know, don't you? Now that I think about it, you were always stupid. Those feelings, those things you once talked about, now I understand what you meant by them, Naruto.

The point is, by the end of chapter 698, Sasuke knows Naruto loves him. Naruto also knows Sasuke loves him, he had known to a large extent since vote one, but his feelings got solidified as he went along his life journey. This is the resolution of this story, this is also a story about their coming of age. It wouldn't make sense for both of them to be oblivious of each other's feelings at the end of it, it will be a failure of both their painfully developed character arcs and the narrative itself. And 698 highlights how they both come to know about their feelings for each other, after so much that they both went through. Properly this time. Explained in more words that they were ever able to use before. This isn't a topic that they can talk about so freely. They don't have a terminology for it, but they somehow managed. This is what all this narrative development led to. This is how storytelling works.

Chapter 699 gives the reader a hint of what's to come after this resolution. The nightmare. Everything that went wrong. Everything that left the resolution of their character arcs awry. Not meaningless but certainly disparate. Naruto and Sasuke talk to each other like they have talked more about what transpired with them in 698. And both have come to a position where they are going to capitulate to the circumstances.

Because at the end of the day, they are shinobis. The motto of a shinobi is to endure. Shinobi is a well established phenomenon, it's not just meant for shounen or otaku. They are real. Not like Naruto world ninjas, but Naruto obviously takes its inspiration from this phenomenon. The implications of being a shinobi is very well established in the story itself. Kishi made Naruto to deviate from its conventional meaning from the start so he was written as very unlike a ninja, loud, visible and non conformist, at least initially and for the most part, except towards the end. Shinobis/ninjas are supposed to endure. Following are screenshots from an acclaimed Japanese ninja series of films called Shinobi no mono.

Happiness and pride are not for the ninja. He doesn't live for himself. He lives for others. A collective is more important than the individual. He is born in darkness and he will die in darkness. He is literally a tool. That's what a shinobi is, from a modern ethical understanding, which is valid.

But Kishi couldn't have shown a happy ending for the boys, not with the sequel that essentially required their capitulation to this world to be able to make the new gen happen. The ending has shades of existentialist themes, which are pretty much present throughout what with the cycle of hate and revenge and infinite tsukuyomi, but that the manga ended it on the same note doesn't come as surprising does it?

Kakashi, a loyal, unawakened and complacent slave of the system climbs the rungs of power and becomes the hokage. Suck up to the right people and you will get places. Top administrative power. And he never really changed, he tells Sasuke at the end that it was because of his and Naruto's efforts that he didnt end up in jail and then proceeds to tell him to be good and careful not to regress, but still never acknowledged his mistreatment and insensitivity to Sasuke's feelings and motivations and very valid reasons. Sakura expected Sasuke to apologise and repent when it was she who was clearly in the wrong, who never understood him. She keeps pulling the same shit she always does, neither her nor Kakashi are made to pay consequences for their actions, instead, they get rewarded. Itachi is venerated, his truth is still hidden and Uchiha clan never got justice or even vindication, given they never summoned the kyuubi, its secret still being kept under the shadows.

( *Note - Nobody start with me as to how it was the right thing to do, you do NOT want to get me started there because you don't know what you are talking about. )

And how will any vindication happen when the world they live in doesn't really celebrate individuality? In fact, supresses it. It was funny to me when Bee reprimanded his brother telling him he was not his tool, that he was an individual who couldn't be suppressed but then Darui tried to convince himself that he was Raikage's left hand (or right) and that he wasn't a tool. Heh. Sarutobi is still revered as the ideal leader, when he himself admitted his complicity in Uchiha massacre, Tobirama was glad Uchihas were shown their place, and Oro, the outlier, the one who is objective because his reasons are revolutionary in his own desensitized way, a result of this heartless corrupt system that gives birth to undesirables like him, who collects other undesirables, the wretched, outliers and rejects, and makes his own village, is shown to be under surveillance, but he supported the war effort crucially, deviating from his objectives (even if only because of his interest in Sasuke and not because of the village), so he gets his redemption. So does Kabuto. Neji dies as a slave, something he was determined to fight against, and Hinata got her win, she got rewarded when she didn't work for it even a little bit. But she is rich, from a major clan, an heiress. A princess. The daimyos were shown as entirely privileged, uncaring and blasé about the war, carefree, playing cards or whatever, while the shinobis that were guarding them grumbled but then just accepted their fate, to the way of this world. Because that's what happens, doesn't it? It's very realistic.

Kishi didn't write his world as an ideal world. He essentially wrote it as a dystopian world. And his influences are pretty much based on dystopian ideas themselves, featuring major existentialist themes. Ghost in the shell, Jin-Roh, The Matrix, Berserk. Including introspective films about xenophobia and socio political inequality such as District 9 and Elysium. Same director. The part where seeing Itachi's predicament that greatly affected his own and his entire clan's, Sasuke is moved to think of fundamental questions such as - What is village, what is shinobi, what is the purpose of it all? underlines his existentialist despair. His answer to it did not come out of the blue. Like many fans think. But he was written to give up his goals entirely.

And Naruto. Well Naruto said goodbye to Sasuke. He gave Sasuke his hiatiate back. And this boy, who moved the sky and earth to bring Sasuke back, bid him goodbye with a certain meditative, contemplative stance. But not unhappy. Not his usual chirpy self. Not his usual spirited, chatty and loose tongued self. But introspective, pensive. Like they had reached a decision together. Later on, he married someone like Hinata and took a job that killed his spirit. Don't even think he isn't paying for his loyalty for Konoha, where he had to kill all his individuality and murder his zest for life and adventure, and become another cog of this unforgiving, relentlessly cruel world. Lifeless and eternally tired. A colourless husk of his older self. He couldn't even bother to attend his own hokage ceremony.

Kishi is not an ultra leftist, even though I can see he understands left ideologies, appreciates it quite well, and no wonder, Sasuke was partially inspired by Sanpei Shirato's Sasuke. He wrote Sasuke's character with such nuance and veritable shades, the claim that he is some ultra nationalist is empty. He is also not a fascist. Because if he were, the end of it all would have been shown as a reward. A prosperous haven. The best outcome of all possibilities. Your reward for loyalty. That is always the conclusion of the right wing narrative. Kishi is a realist. He appreciates existentialist themes, Japan can be credited with coming up with a whole library full of existentialist literature, as a result of the aftermath of war and the generational trauma can be seen and felt viscerally in the themes of their stories. Stories about meditation on war and the nature of war, the after effects of war, the human ethos behind them. Existentialism as a theory and way of life itself became quite a thing post war even if the theory itself was introduced before it, because it reflected what the war did to people, how it affected them, what it did to their psyches and thought processes. How certain things/ideas/thoughts/beliefs that carried social and moral value for them were rendered immaterial.

Anyway. Sasuke says - I didn't think you would come to see me off.

Naruto says nothing. This hyperactive goofball of ready words and catchphrases and nicknames just haltingly handed him back his slashed hitaiate.

The ending is - Perhaps this is what makes us ninjas.

Yes it does. Ceaselessly enduring pain and grief while giving up personal and individual wishes and desires and need for justice and their individuality does make them ninjas.

Continuing the status quo does make them ninjas. Nothing really changed, nothing really mattered. There's a certain melancholic quality to this scene. Which feels different in terms of tone and pacing, doesn't it?

Regardless, it's tragic.

Naruto is different in this scene in chapter 699. I think they have already discussed it by this point. And I think they have already come to some conclusions. What exactly did they talk about, we will never know. And I would give Kishi a lot of my money and a big part of my prized possessions, including my time, to know.

But well.

Now to come to what this ask was about, lol, I have yet to come across a fanfic that does justice to them, their story and narrative. Of course, it would be unrealistic to expect that everyone would get it, but is it unrealistic that at least someone should get it?? If I can see it and others can too, can't writers do something with this? This is such rich material, with so freaking much potential. There are so many possibilities, writers can use these themes creatively. And these are mostly my condensed thoughts, I will probably go in more detail some other day. And honestly, it takes some research, sure. But don't writers put some research in it anyway?

But they go for the easy route. It's okay, that they write what they like, but at least don't call it canon compliant. Most fans don't even understand canon. Give yourself some more credit, there's so much to discover.

At the end of the day, whenever I read some fic, unless it is supposed to be light hearted, it mostly just ends up disappointing me. Especially the ones that are based in canon universe.

This fic shows Naruto as an oblivious idiot when he is more perceptive than most fans think. He understands a lot of things, he is not a doofus, he is much more experienced at the end of the manga, he is aware of some realities and he is only going to learn more. And more. He understands his own emotions. Towards Sasuke as well. Sasuke is also shown as someone who doesn't even understand that he is attracted to Naruto when he has almost always known he was. Why else would he give up his life the way he did in land of waves? Gaara, btw, is perhaps one of the very few people who understand loneliness and being ostracized. Just him, Sasuke and Naruto, more prominently in this manga. He didn't attack Sasuke in kage arc, he could have. He is also perceptive enough to know that Naruto loves Sasuke, he also understands it better than Lee, who is a simplistic character, who thinks bad people's deeds are bad. Gaara understands that loneliness and hatred can drive people to do things they otherwise wouldn't. He resonated with Sasuke. He understood his predicament. and Naruto's. Which is why he said what he said to Naruto in kage arc. I love his character and I wish more people understood him. I swear if I could have broken the screen and picked small Gaara up when his salve got rejected by that child, I would have and I would have run....far.

Ino is portrayed as carefree and confident, sure. But I dont think she would be so fine with Sasuke being gay. She, till the end, was a Sasuke fangirl. There's absolutely no indication that she would have been fine with homosexuality. Nor would have others. Konoha presents a very bleak prospect for Sasuke and Naruto's relationship to be accepted.

I know this is a lot to take. And I know not everyone cares so much. But calling it canon compliant or 'in character' when it certainly is NOT, is taking it too far. Let's try a bit more. No?

Oh and I also didn't care about their intimate scenes. Because Naruto and Sasuke, once they get going, I think it would be like a bloody dam breaking off. It would start slowly, tentatively but then, it would burst out. And it would be unstoppable. I am talking years of repression here. Emotional and sexual. And more importantly, they trust each other all the way. I don't think tsunami would be able to stop them. It would be instinctive and natural, like everything else with them is. They might fumble and break stuff but more than anything else, it would be a desperate need to join together, to meld together, to finally be with each other as they were meant to be. They, who couldn't even touch without the pretext of a spar or a battle, if they finally allowed themselves to touch each other, it will be like a torrential force of emotions that would leave them scorched and they won't be satiated until their need to touch and reassure themselves, that it was finally happening, that they can finally touch each other, that they can HOLD each other, without feeling guilty or tabooed, that they can fuse their bodies with each other, to find not just emotional but physical reassurance, would come alive and transformed. They would run ragged. It would be passionate and tender and emotionally overwhelming, it would break barriers and boundaries, it would be a Godly experience for both. Like finally feeling at home. To be finally able to find that refuge in each other that only they could provide each other, in a world where no one else could even understand. It would be magnificent and insane and gentle and teasing and loving and sweet and painful and violent. All the damn shades. They aren't like you or me. They are different, because they are them. And no one can compare. But I can imagine.

[wilcze-kudly]

More weilin propaganda because they've been giving me feels again

Im a big proponent of Wei and Bolin getting together incredibly, painfully slowly. It takes ages for them to realise that they have feelings for the other and then even longer for them to actually confess to one another.

I imagine that Wei falls first and he is incredibly angry about it. He probably got a little crush on Bolin when team Avatar first came to Zaofu, but didn't really realise it. He's definitely not happy about it and really tries to go : 'no actually i hate him.' I imagine he would also feel awful for having feelings for his sister's boyfriend.

I like the idea of Bolin in a slow burn romance because in the show he gets together with whichever partner incredibly fast. Since it often also feels like Bolin is sorta forcing the relationship to happen, I would like to see how he would be when falling in love with someone slowly and unintentionally.

Since I see Bolin having strong comphet + internalised homophobia vibes, I can also imagine him just. Not realising that hes falling for Wei until hes like deeply infatuated. (You know, typical straight bro activities totally include staring at your homie's lips and wondering if they're as soft as they look and how they would feel upon your own.)

The 'flirting but not acknowledging the actual feelings stage' would last forever. These two are absolutely the types to tease the other to no end. Wei's cocky and competitive and Bolin can definetly match that energy when with the right people.

Because Bolin is so comphet he cannot even fathom the idea of being into a guy, I could see him making a lot of ' i could kiss you rn, bro' or 'we'd actually be a good couple. You know, if you were a girl.' type jokes. Wei is dying here and also being 'oh god. I've fallen for an idiot. A straight idiot.'

I want to see Bolin being so confused about the feelings he's having about Wei. I want to see Bolin having an 'oh. Oh no' moment and panicking.

I could see him going to Asami and Korra, his cool bisexual big sisters, who are like ' welcome to the club lmao'. I could totally imagine them trying to boost his confidence and encouraging him to ask Wei out. (You know miss Asami 'lemme take this guy i just hit with my motorcycle to Kwong's Cuisine' Sato would hook her boy with the fanciest suits and reservations at expensive restaurants.)

Give me Wei and Bolin awkwardly bumbling through semi-dates. Bolin being too embarrassed and nervous to make a move and Wei being too proud and stressed to do the same. Give me everyone around them being like. Please. Just Get. Together.

Give me the teasing that becomes oddly intimate or awkward. Give me the slow breakdown of personal space between them. Give me the longing.

The painful slow buurn.

[chromantisch]

This really hurt. Not just because it's painful to get your heart broken or because of how unbearable it can feel to love and want impossibly. But because I feel Minoru's shame so so deeply, because I have been ashamed just the same.

This is certainly not the first time that media in general or even a BL tackles internalised homophobia and the shame it breeds. But this just struck a nerve for me. The terror of feeling like you've crossed a terrible terrible line. Obsessing over it until you feel like you need to apologise and somehow make it okay again. Just the damn shame of feeling more than you feel you should. And the self-hatred of having made the other person uncomfortable, when in reality that might not even be the case. The yearning to touch again and the impossibility of ever doing it again. Wanting nothing to change because that would be worse, despite how unbearable it feels.

Yutaka himself reassures Minoru that he is okay, but that doesn't mean much, because Minoru can barely hear it. He is so lost in feeling ashamed for having crossed a line that he doesn't even really get that he barely did so. He can only focus on letting go, indulging one last time and then closing everything off, never letting that attraction come to the surface again or manifest in physical contact.

And the thing is, it being the same as before, doesn't even mean not touching. It might not happen all that often and every time they seem to be a bit overwhelmed by their own desire to reach out. Still, the flashbacks within the episode make it very clear that they do touch from time to time. Listening to shame and fear and never touching again is not going back to it being the same.

At the same time, both Minoru and Yutaka acknowledge how difficult, how impossible, it feels to go back to it being the same as before. Maybe because the before they agreed on never really was that way. Maybe because increasing the distance just spurs more shame and fear and never lessens it. Or maybe because touch lingers and when love isn't as unrequited as one thinks, not even never touching again can really erase it.

[ebenelephant]

so I've seen some izzy-antis discussing the 'bury your gays' accusations regarding the finale. and for the record, i also dont think that izzy's death is an example of that trope. do i think it a rushed disservice to his character and frankly fucking unnecessary? yes. but sometimes writing can just be shitty and upsetting without it falling into bigoted tropes.

my issue with these individuals is the generally dismissive tone with which many discuss his queerness. almost as if they dont want to admit that Izzy is queer, or that they think that people are being ridiculous for mourning him because the 'good gays' lived. like, izzy died, but izzy was repressed and had internalised homophobia and perpetuated toxic masculinity and never explicitly came out, so it's fine! it doesn't matter, because stede and ed get to have their happy little cottage, and the possible-polycule are off on a high seas adventure, and lucius and pete are gay-married Mateys.

this really fucking bothers me.

every time i so much as see one of these posts my skin crawls. because i literally do not care if someone's fandom opinion differs from my own, as long as no one is being harassed; but this feels... different, somehow. it's not enough to dislike izzy, they have to somehow diminish his queerness.

like i said, some of them barely want to call him gay. skirting around the issue, barely acknowledging that him saying he 'has love' for edward is the same as being totally and devastatingly 'in love' with him for years - possibly decades. izzy is a bad queer, and so his queerness isn't important. his experiences, his growth, the fact that he died. he's a bad gay, so he isn't important.

and he's bad because for so long he detached himself from his queerness. he was scared of feeling, he was scared of softness, he was scared of sweetness. he was cruel, and he was mean, and meanness is a thing perpetuated against members of the lgbt community, not by them. it's this new system of purity politics: everything is black and white. homophobes are bad, and izzy was bad, therefore calling him queer chafes. it's almost like admitting there's some goodness in him.

and fuck. the idea that his death needn't be ruminated on just because other gays are happy is perverse.

[carriagelamp]

I think I accidentally hit my reading quota in July because in August I ended up doing every else except reading! And then September just got too busy. But I managed to scrape up a handful of books for the pat few months a few quite good and some rather overwhelmingly lacklustre...

The Alchemy of Moonlight

Well, we’re off to an auspicious start because this book was genuinely awful. It was a complete impulse purchase and gave me a very sharp reminder about judging books by their covers. After reading A Marvellous Light last month I was in the mood for more queer period romance and this one had ALL that plus a werewolf to boot! Sounds fun! I could use a fun summer impulse read! But sadly it committed what is, in my opinion, the single greatest sin a historical fiction novel can do, which is that it read completely and entirely like a modern novel. 

There was almost zero effort to make the vocabulary or cadence fit that of novels from that time period (and like, I’m not expecting perfect, I'm hardly an expert, but I regularly read fanfiction written in better pastiche than this. Les Mis and Sherlock Holmes fandoms, you guys have spoiled me). The characters also don’t act in historically appropriate ways, they were allowed to get way too familiar with each other way too quickly with zero regard to social class. And I can’t believe I’m saying this but I could have actually used a touch more homophobia -- guys, just a bit of internalised homophobia, even just the acknowledgement that societal pressures affect people. 

(also this getting described as a gothic horror? fuck off gothic horror is more than a spoopy house, where is the absolute overwhelming terror of the vast Sublime?? i was not forced to read frankenstein three fucking times for school to accept something this lame trying to describe itself as "gothic".)

I tossed this one in my local little free library and I hope it goes to someone who is less of a picky bastard when it comes to historical narration.

American Girl: Kaya and Lone Dog // A Spy on the Homefront: A Molly Mystery

Two more American Girl novels that I’ve read, one about Kaya, an indigenous girl form the Nimíipuu tribe in 1764 and the story about her missing her sister and befriending a lone dog who gives birth to puppies. Like the other books I’ve read from this series, I thought it was quite well done. It didn’t shy away from challenging topics (her sister being enslaved and how that loss has affected Kaya) and drew me along for the entire plot of the book. It was charming.

The other one I read was another from the Mystery series of books. Sadly I’m thinking that the entire Mystery series of American Girl books may just be lacklustre. Like the Kit Mystery I read a while back, this one had a decent concept, explored the time period (WWII) in an interesting way, but had abysmal pacing for a mystery novel. It was not very good at creating or maintaining tension, and minimal effort to actually give a reader any clues to track. It wasn’t a bad story, especially for a kid, but it was nothing special.

Annie: An Old-Fashioned Story

After rewatching the musical Annie I decided I needed to read the novel, because I love a novelization! Me and my girlfriend have been slowly reading this together over the past few months and it’s been really enjoyable. Annie is a spunky orphan girl during the Depression is eventually taken in by billionaire industrialist Oliver Warbucks. This book gives a lot more backstory to Annie, and really stretches out the time between her running away from the orphanage and her meeting Warbucks. It was a pretty interesting and unflinching look at the hardships suffered by a parentless child like Annie during the Depression. It added a lot that the film didn’t have, and was well worth the read.

Camp Damascus

Possibly my favourite book from this review. I’d never read a Chuck Tingle book before, since I don’t tend to veer overmuch into erotica, but since this was his first “traditionally published” novel I thought now was the time to give it a go. And I have to say, I was genuinely amazed! Chuck Tingle is an incredibly compelling writer, his narration is just beautiful, I wanted to sink into it and get lost. I’m going to have to read more of his books now.

For those who haven’t heard of Camp Damascus, it’s a queer horror novel that’s based around religious horror. Normally religious horror doesn’t do it for me (I have zero interest in or fear of possession) but this one had a very different twist on that narrative. Though demons still featured in the story, the entire premise was built around the concept of religious trauma as horror, and the metaphors created by the demons as it explored themes of leaving religion, self-identity, indoctrination, queer identity and conversion therapy was honestly just breath-taking. My biggest recommendation this time around, I could hardly put it down.

Doctor Who: The Clockwise Man

Another fun Doctor Who novel with an enjoyable mystery about a mysterious political prisoner from space. It wasn’t a world changing novel, but it was a very solidly written 9 and Rose adventure, I enjoyed having the audiobook on while I drove.

Delicious Monsters

Another severe disappointment, unfortunately. I went in really wanting to like this book! I was in the mood for another horror novel after Camp Damascus, it was touted as being like The Haunting of Hill House (superb novel) with a House As Metaphor For Our Trauma And Horror which is a bend to horror I really enjoy. Sadly, despite a fairly interesting premise, the pacing and narrative voice was… rough. It was told from two different points of view, one in the future and one in the past that was slowly piecing together the mystery of what happened at this house, but the narrative voices were so similar it didn’t feel like two distinct entities. Neither made me excited for POV changes. The narration was also very heavy handed in the messages it was trying to send — all good messages, but with no faith that the reader would be able to interpret them on their own without it being repeated explicitly over and over. It all felt very bogged down and repetitive and frankly a little insulting to the reader's intelligence. I gave up on it about halfway through despite really liking the first quarter of the book.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation comic v2

More Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation! Because I’m hooked! Very much enjoying the comic version that’s been coming out, the art is very nice and it's fun to re-experience the beginning of the novel now that I know the characters and all the background information that was so mysterious the first time around.

Heaven Official’s Blessing v1

I have finished the main series of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation so I’ve decided to move on to another series by the same author since I’ve been enjoying the style. This series starts off with a “Laughingstock” of the gods, someone who has ascended to godhood twice already and been cast out of Heaven twice as well. The story starts with his third ascension and everyone in Heaven is pretty over it, especially when his third ascension ends up causing chaos in Heaven. He’s chronically unlucky but has an attitude that’s largely willing to go with the flow so when he's given a job to help repay the debt his ascension acrued him he agrees to descend to the Mortal Realm and investigate the disappearance of brides.

Along the way he picks up a couple junior officials who are reluctantly sent along to help and lend him spiritual power, since his own is sealed, as well as a strange youth in red who seems to know more than he should and is perhaps the only person who doesn't treat him scornfully.

The pacing of book one was interesting… it drew me along and had me chuckling frequently, especially with some of the interesting characters that are introduced, but I definitely didn’t feel fully “connected” with the characters or plot just yet. Still, I’m intrigued for book two and trust the author enough to go along for the ride until things start clicking!

James and the Giant Peach

Roald Dahl’s classic story about James Henry Trotter who, after the death of his parents, is forced to live with his two horrid aunts. Isolated from any potential friends, all alone at the top of the hill with his aunts and forced to slave away for them, James eventually meets a mysterious old man who offers him a glowing bag of crocodile tongues… something he claims has the power to grant happiness to whoever possesses them. Unfortunately before James can use them he trips and spills them at the roots of the old, dead peach tree… and awakens the magic regardless.

Just a fun September reread, I haven’t read James and the Giant Peach in years. It's definitely one of my favourite Dahl stories. I’m going to have to rewatch the movie now…

Monster and the Beast v4

The last volume of a yaoi series I’ve been reading for a while. This is a story that follows a rather callous, mysterious man known as Liam and the soft-hearted monster, Cavo, who he meets and befriends. This final volume wraps up Liam’s strange and somewhat sinister origin story and reveals what exactly the powers he wields are, and it lets Cavo come into his own. Honestly an excellent book for all the monsterfuckers out there. Overall it was a sweet ending and I enjoyed the series — honestly I wouldn’t mind one more volume of short stories that just explore the relationship dynamic they achieved by the end of this volume.

The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich

The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich is a graphic novel about a young noblewoman who has to disguise herself as a man if she is to inherit her late father’s estate. So she dismisses the old servants save for a single trusted one, changes her appearance, and moves to a city far away from where she grew up. From there, “he” begins making waves in a way that draws the attention of the princess… 

It was a… fine graphic novel. I’m not sure I have a lot to say besides that. It was a comedy, but it’s not the sort of comedy that I find particularly interesting… it definitely felt like a youth graphic novel. It was also very anachronistic (part of the humour) which I’m not always in the mood for and didn’t really land for me. Over all I don’t regret reading it, and the art was enjoyable enough, but I’m glad I got it from the library. When I had first heard of it I had been expecting something a bit… more.

Red, White, and Royal Blue

I was very skeptical about Red, White, and Royal Blue. I thought it looked tacky when it first came out and I resolutely ignored it. However as the Netflix film was due to come out I decided I had better bite the bullet and figure out what the hype was about. And I can admit, I was wrong! It was honestly a delightful read!

The politics are a bit Rough, as I expected, but the relationship was genuinely delightful and I really liked all the side characters they introduced. You really have to go into it like you would a Hallmark romcom because that’s exactly what it is — and you know what, the queers really do deserve some simple, cheesy (and occasionally surprisingly touching) romantic comedies. Contemporary romcom is normally REALLY not my genre but I highly enjoyed this book and am willing to eat my words.

[whitestopper]

Before Season 2, I thought that Tao's father had left Tao and Yan, and since Tao('s actor) is mixed white and Asian, it could've been shown that Tao's anxiety over fitting in as a half-Asian boy in a white school started from a young age. Maybe his father told Yan to stop teaching him Cantonese, or not letting him bring egg noodles for packed lunch. Maybe Yan would agree out of fear that Tao wouldn't assimilate with his classmates or maybe she'd just agree so he wouldn't cause a fight about it. Just little things that started building up the idea that being 'too Asian' would make Tao unlikeable, which would then reach its peak when his white father leaves him.

Or if Tao's dad needs to be good but dead so Yan can speak happily about him without any issues, then Tao could've just had a bad time at school. Teachers expecting him to be a minority model student (quiet, polite and getting exceptional grades) and peers doing racist stuff like broken accents and stretching their eyes. His parents could do their best to make sure that his spark isn't dulled but his insecurities still come out, especially at school where they started.

Now I'm speaking as a white-passing half south-east Asian who was spared being targeted - to my memory the school I went to, while having all white staff, had a decent of mix of white and (east to south) Asian kids. But make no mistake, kids are very much exposed to racism and internalising it. My brother and I were younger than 10 when we learned about the aforementioned racist imitations. We watched Family Guy (to my mum's displeasure) and Eurocentric beauty standards are very clear (and I did internalise the idea that because I was 'ugly', I should put my pride into being 'smart'). And when I became a teenager who realised just how detached I was to my Asian heritage - to the point of thinking myself as less than half-Asian due to lack of exposure - it very much fucked with my sense of self and made me feel like a tourist/outsider when trying to get in touch with it.

All this to say, you can get away with not addressing race when your story is centred around two white boys and poc are just side stories (I mean, you shouldn't and you can't really, but you can), but when you're trying to bring poc to the spotlight, it's really bad to only acknowledge homophobia, mental illness and passing sexism/transphobia (Elle's experiences with transphobia are only mentioned as happening at Truham, but who really believes that the homophobes at Higgs are trans allies?) and not racism, colorism, or xenophobia. Like, does Elle being able to pass as cis supercede the fact that she will never pass as white? Is there not a certain reason Tara struggled to accept that she was a lesbian for longer than Darcy did? Would Tao not have had experience with white peers who bully him and white peers who don't stand by him?

And I won't say much on it as a cis woman, but as Asian men are emasculated as 'weak', Tao's seemingly inexplicable aggression towards Nick becomes... well, explicable when you recontextualise it as (subconsciously) trying to match the white masculine ideal of aggression.