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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

hi!! do you have any good insecure/low self esteem Sherlock fics? thank you!

Hi Nonny!

AHHHH I’ve too many to count; I did a list back in 2019 that combined the both of them, but I get asked so often for one or the other that I think it’s time to make separate lists, and to do that requires me to re-tag a tonne of fics, so for now, I will give you all the ones I have tagged; I apologize if I’ve missed any, but I’m going through them slowly <3 Enjoy!!

INSECURE / AWKWARD SHERLOCK Pt. 2

See also: Insecure / Awkward John or Sherlock (Jan 2019)

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Together is What we Have, Together Protects Us by Phantom of the Black Pearl (K+, 1,566 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Platonic or Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock, Slice of Life) – After a case one evening in the flat Sherlock voices a concern that causes the pair to consider why they've chosen to stick together after all that's happened.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Alcohol / Drinking, POV Second Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Armchair Sex, Fluff, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

Five Times Sherlock gave John a Pebble and One Time John Returned the Gesture by grimmfairy (NR, 1,895 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Fluff, Penguins and Pebbles, Nervous / Pining Sherlock, Oblivious John) – Sherlock isn't good with words, so he decides to tell John his feelings the way penguins do, by bringing him pebbles with different meanings. John catches on.

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John's favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for.

Work On Your Balance by speculate (K+, 2,448 w., 1 Ch. || Embarrassed Sherlock, “For A Case”, Skating, Fluff, Friendship, Humour) – In which John is actually pretty good at ice skating, Sherlock's not and insists it's all for a case , and Lestrade is pretty amused by it all.

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Nothing Left Untouched by ForeverShippingJohnlock (K+, 2,617 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Romance, Bed Sharing, Oblivious Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Grumpy John, Fluff and Cuddles) – Sherlock rearranges the flat. So what if John's bedroom is now a research library. It's not like John needs a bedroom, he can share with Sherlock. They're friends and John has obviously slept in close quarters with men before and it's not like Sherlock sleeps much anyway. It'll be fine.

Closeted by Sexxica (E, 2,762 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped in a Closet, Panicking Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Coming in Pants, Awkward Conversations, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending) – An improvised hiding spot and a bit of accidental voyeurism leave John and Sherlock in an awkward position.

Reversed by whitchry9 (K+, 3,072 w., 6 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Medical Anomalies, John Gets Shot) – The man pointed his gun at John's chest, right at his heart, and shot.' Wherein John is shot, and Sherlock is the one panicking.

Study in Sherlock by chappysmom (K+, 3,790 w., 1 Ch. || ASiP, Friendship, Introspection, Anxious Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock) – Sherlock's thoughts and feelings during A Study in Pink. What DID he think of John, and why was he being so NICE?

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Applied Linguistics by what_alchemy (M, 4,837 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive / Anxious Sherlock, Introspection, Bed Sharing, Past John Whump, Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Word Play) – “He wants to shake John by the shoulders, wants to open his mouth and swallow John whole. Wants to marry him.” Sherlock searches for the right words.

Sleeping next to you by Salambo06 (E, 5,018 w, 2 Ch. || ASiB Fic, Bed Sharing, Frottage, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Anal, First Kiss/Time, POV Sherlock) – Based on an Anonymous Prompt: "So, that scene from ASiB when Mrs H has been attacked by the American CIA guy & John, Sherlock & she are in Mrs H's kitchen when John says "She’ll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." to which Sherlock replies with "no". John of course suggested that because he cares about her safety, but maybe he also did it cause he /wanted/ that to happen. What if they finally agreed on letting her have John's or Sherlock's bed & J&S sleep in the same one?" Part 12 of Tumblr Collection

Nothing So Sweet by alexxphoenix42 (E, 5,275 w., 1 Ch. || Shopkeeper AU || Beekeeping, Sussex, Alternate First Meeting, Awkward First Time Sex, Self-Consciousness / Body Insecurity, Fluff, Hand Jobs) – In an alternate universe, Sherlock is busy keeping to himself, tending his bees, and selling lovely jars of honey when a soldier limps into his life quite unexpectedly. Part 1 of The Sweetest Things

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery, Desperation, Body Worship) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

The Very Unlikely Existence of a Flightless Bird in a Tuxedo by cwb (E, 8,829 w., 1 Ch. || Poetry, Penguins / Animals / Zoos, First Kiss / Time, Blow / Hand Jobs, Sleepy Cuddles, Endearments, Friendship / Love, Adorable / Sleepy Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock Can’t Say Penguin) – A case at the zoo reveals something John finds cute about Sherlock. A conversation ensues, and so does happy endings.

Always the sun by Rose de Sharon (K+, 12,377 w., 3 Ch. || Song Fic, Alternate Post-TGG, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection / Reflection, Injury Recovery, Obsessive / Protective Sherlock, Nightmares, John’s Past, Bed Sharing / Cuddles) – Sherlock ponders about how much his life has changed since John has become his flatmate.

Understanding by rizandace (T, 13,268 w., 15 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Worried Sherlock, John Whump Then Sherlock Whump) – Sherlock's hiding something about his newest case, and John wants answers. Set post-TGG. Friendship fic, mostly, with brief entrances from Harry and Lestrade just for fun.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

Pattern Behaviour by SilentAuror (E, 14,835 w., 1 Ch. || POV First Person Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Stroppy Sherlock, Light Humour, Friendship, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Wall Kisses, Fluffy Angst, Happy Ending) – Sherlock doesn't even know why he resents John's dates so much. Until the day he does know. Slight angst, unrequited feelings (but don't let that scare you off!)

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Hope for Heroes by Richefic (K+, 16,887 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TGG Fic, Introspection / Flashbacks, Friendship/Epic Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Sherlock Admires John, BAMF John, John Deduces, Fancy Party, John’s Self Esteem, Domestics) – In the final moments of "The Great Game" Holmes hopes he will have the chance to tell his flatmate that he was wrong. Heroes do exist after all and the one in front of him is called Dr John Watson.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w., 26 Ch. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Frottage, Nightmares, Sleepy Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Humour, Fluff, Dancing, Cooking, Happy Ending) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w., 12 Ch. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky Sherlock, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #insecure sherlock #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post #awkwardness

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izusun · 3 years

Note

My brain: Bakudeku but they've been dating since middle school

Me: Oh! That's sweet-

My brain, thriving off of pain only: Imagine that they're dating when the sludge villain happens. When All Might makes Izuku promise to keep One For All a secret. When the USJ happens. During internships and the encounter with Stain. During the training camp, and the Overhaul arc and-

Me, crying but also well fed:

- Goblin anon

goblin not you out here making me sad /j

nevertheless, THIS IS SUCH A GOOD AND PAINFUL AU!!!

izuku leaves earlier than katsuki. he still crosses the same bridge on his way home, still gets attacked by the sludge villain, still gets saved by all might, and still gets his hopes shattered.

he planned on telling katsuki a tidbit of the incident. something along the lines of, “i met a hero today, but they told me that i can’t be one because i’m quirkless.” because he doesn’t hide anything from katsuki, but something about all might’t gaunt form pushes izuku to not tell even katsuki about the truth regarding their favourite hero. but the telltale of familiar explosions ring around the area and izuku feels like something had slashed his heart because when he whipped to look at where the explosions came from, all he saw were pools of red shining in terror.

izuku remembers thinking no for a quick second, before he was moving forward. when he reached out to katsuki, katsuki reached out back.

when all is said and done, both katsuki and izuku go home together. they hold hands on the way home, not mentioning the way izuku’s kept trembling. all might, in his small form, stops them both. he sheepishly asks if he can talk to izuku alone but izuku refuses.

“sir, i don’t want to-” leave kacchan. let go of kacchan. walk away from him after what happened. talk to you anymore.

“just go,” katsuku says and when izuku tries to refute, he sees the look katsuki’s giving him–almost pleading. izuku hesitantly agrees and they part ways in that street.

all might apologizes for everything then offers his quirk. when izuku agrees, eyes glossy from unshed tears, all might asks him to not tell a soul. and that includes katsuki.

izuku thinks it’s unfair because they never hid anything from each other, but all might’s begging him, probably saw the way hesitation crossed izuku’s face, and izuku reluctantly agrees.

izuku doesn’t say anything to katsuki and katsuki doesn’t ask in return, but the way he eyes izuku shows that he knew that izuku’s hiding something from him.

they still don’t talk about the incident, and later don’t talk about how their time together decreases because of izuku’s training. izuku at least told katsuki that he still would be trying out for the hero course, quirkless as he is. katsuki voices his concern (of course disguised as angry tangents) but doesn’t stop izuku.

they meet on the day of the exam, wishing each other good luck. when iida told izuku to shut up, katsuki screams at him. it took both present mic and izuku to calm him down.

they part ways later since they’re on different testing grounds. there was a minute of silence between them as though katsuki’s waiting for izuku to confess up now about what happened with yagi and the training sessions that katsuki’s not allowed to go. but izuku still doesn’t say anything and katsuki leaves after.

izuku tells everything later when he woke up in the nurse’s office, saw katsuki’s crumpled state dozing off beside him. he thinks of katsuki’s trust, the way he never pushed izuku to tell him what’s up and recognizes that katsuku trusted him to tell him when he’s ready, and now it’s his turn to trust katsuki because katsuki never failed him.

so he pokes katsuki awake and chuckles lightly at katsuki’s worrying (disguised through scolding), and tells him. katsuki listens and doesn’t stop izuku. waits for him to tell his piece. when izuku finishes recounting, katsuki pulls him to an embrace, arms encircling tight.

“stupid deku,” katsuki whispers, void of any malice, “always making me worry.” he kisses izuku’s lips and helps izuku to his feet.

they don’t tell all might that izuku told katsuki about everything.

battle trial of bakugou/iida vs midoriya/uraraka passes with a bang of excitement and less injuries. the hero team still wins and izuku lets katsuku simmer in rage (not at izuku but at himself, always thinking he’s not strong enough) before hugging him. katsuki returns the hug.

when the villains infiltrate USJ, katsuki thinks his heart is shot twice. izuku still can’t handle ofa and then he’s separated from katsuki. katsuki finishes off the villains with kirishima and starts hounding for izuku. when he sees him, it’s to a bloody aizawa and an injured izuku. he is moving, aware that kirishima is marching with him.

“kacchan no!” he hears izuku scream and he jumps back away, heart hammering loudly when he sees the thing that was standing over aizawa almost attacking katsuki. and with the way their teacher is bloody and bruised, katsuki knew that had he been hit, he probably wouldn’t have survived.

all might arrives soon and hope blooms in his heart.

when he thought that they’re finally saved, he sees handy mcfuck reach out to all might and watched as izuku jumped up to intercept the attack.

snipe’s bullet sails past them and into shigaraki, thankfully giving katsuki the time to yank his boyfriend out of danger’s reach.

“nerd, what the fuck.”

he probably should have known that his boyfriend is prone to attracting danger.

when they receive a message from izuku, relaying his location, katsuki knew that he was in trouble.

he tried calling izuku back, but when his call was redirected to voicemail twice, he headed to best jeanist’s office.

“how fast can we go here?” he asks, showing the pinged location that izuku sent. it’s been ten minutes and hosu is less than an hour’s away. anything could happen to his nerd within that time frame.

“bakugou,” best jeanist says, “we can’t go. we have to patrol around the area. endeavour is in charge of hosu as of the situation right now, and unless there is a call for backup, we can’t move.”

katsuki doesn’t argue despite the worry and anger gnawing at him.

when his shift ends, mitsuki calls him. “hurry home, we’re visiting izu-chan.”

katsuki doesn’t waste time.

when they get there, izuku tells him about what happened. they were told to never disclose stain’s attack but katsuki and izuku long disregarded those rules. katsuki glares at him when he finishes, worry bubbling at the fact that both stain and a winged noumu attacked his boyfriend.

when izuku passes out once again, he plants a chaste kiss at izuku’s forehead and glares at half-and-half who was watching them the whole time.

IT’S GETTING TOO LONG AND MY HEAD’S FLYING AWAY BUT JUST KNOW THAT I AM IN PAIN!!

this is such a good au!! i love love childhood sweethearts bakudeku and katsuki so whipped and in love <33

#goblin anon #ask #GOBLIN THIS IS SO PAINFULLY BEAUTIFUL #childhood sweethearts bakudeku >>>#it’s so warm that my brain is a mush #im literally melting #bnha #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #katsudeku #decchan #mha #long post #like RLLY LONG POST

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ughseoks · 4 years

Text

the art of pretend | jhs + ksj

PAIRING; hoseok x seokjin (2seok)

GENRE/AU; fluff, humor

RATING: 18+

WORD COUNT; 4.7k

WARNINGS; swearing, innuendos, a Smidge of angst, overall stupidity, secondhand embarrassment probably

SUMMARY; An AU in which Hoseok is embarrassingly bad at first dates and Seokjin takes it upon himself to fix it.

— Written for the Be My Bangtanvine collab hosted by @kimtaehyunq 💗 —

MASTERLIST

— banner by @monotape THANK YOU I LOVE YOU 🥺💗

— special thanks to @j-sope for pretty much being the sole reason that this was able to be written. i love u so much u are my everything my favorite person ever ILYLYYLIYLILYYILLYIYILYILYILYLILYILYIYIY

Jung Hoseok is horrible at first dates.

Seokjin likes to joke that the unfortunate souls his friend corrals into going on dates with him are his victims, but that joke usually results in a pouting Hoseok, so he keeps it to himself when he hears the all-too-familiar sound of his friend entering their shared apartment with a loud sigh.

“How’d it go tonight?” Seokjin calls out after a moment of silence. The only answer he gets is an alarmingly loud groan from the entryway, the sound followed by a pair of heavy footsteps shuffling their way toward the kitchen.

Hoseok appears around the corner only a few moments later, a pained expression tugging at his features as he collapses into the chair across the table from Seokjin with a huff. “Bad.”

“I don’t understand how you managed to fuck this one up,” Seokjin sighs in exasperation. “Literally everyone gets along with Namjoon. He’s, like, the nicest person on the planet. What did you even do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Hoseok defends, pointing an accusing finger at Seokjin. “I’m offended that your first instinct is to blame me. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I was the one who rejected him?”

Seokjin levels him with a cool stare. Hoseok drops his gaze to the table before mumbling, “I accidentally set my sleeve on fire.”

“Jesus,” Seokjin groans, “Hobi, how the hell do you manage these things? What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, okay!” Hoseok cries out, “It’s not my fault that they put a candle right next to the basket of breadsticks! What kind of restaurant uses real candles anyway? This is the 21st century! Fake candles exist for a reason, you know!”

Seokjin sighs. “This is the last time I ever set you up on a date.”

“Aw, come on,” Hoseok pouts, “That’s not fair. I promise I won’t fuck up the next one; I think I’ve got the hang of dating now. Really!”

“Hobi, I literally have nobody else to offer. You’ve run through my entire collection of single acquaintances in the span of a few months.”

Hoseok blinks. “What? No way. You have to have at least one more single friend. You know, like, everyone.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Hoseok, you have a problem. It’s time to accept it.” He pauses. “But I think I have an idea on how to fix it.”

“No, no, I know what you’re thinking,” Hoseok interrupts. “I wear an earpiece. You sit at a table nearby, you speak into a mic, you tell me what to say on the date. It’s a great idea, Jin, but let me tell you something—it never works. Taehyung and I tried that a year or two ago and it didn’t end well.” He pauses. “At least, I don’t think it did. I’m not sure. I think my brain blocked out that memory for my own mental stability.”

“That’s…” Seokjin trails off before shaking his head. “Nevermind. My plan was for us to go on a few practice dates together so I could train you to be less nervous on your real dates.”

“Oh.” Hoseok’s face lights up. “That’s a way better idea! Good thinking, dude.”

“Please never call me dude again.”

“Would you prefer if I called you daddy?”

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Get out.”

“You can’t kick me out of our apartment,” Hoseok pouts, “I live here too, you know.”

“I reserve the right to kick you out when you’re acting like an idiot. It’s stated in section thirty-five of our friendship contract.”

Hoseok curses under his breath. “I knew I never should’ve signed that thing.”

“Well, you did. And you’re gonna have to live with the consequences if you do stupid things like calling me daddy when all I’m trying to do is help you out.”

“Alright, alright,” Hoseok frowns, “I’m sorry.” He pauses. “But you have to admit, it does kind of suit you—”

Seokjin groans. “Fucking hell.”

Their first date happens about a week later. Hoseok shows up at Seokjin’s doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, which isn’t saying much, because they already live together—but he thinks it’s the thought that counts.

“Will you hold my hand over the console?” Hoseok asks with twinkling eyes as he grins at Seokjin from the passenger seat.

“No,” Seokjin deadpans. “I don’t hold hands on the first date.”

“But this is a fake first date,” Hoseok pushes, giving his friend the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can muster. “Surely you can break a few rules here and there.”

“Hoseok, the very fact that this date is fake is only more reason for me to reject your hand-holding offer. I’m not in the business of sharing cooties with friends.”

Hoseok slides down in his seat with an irritated grumble. If Seokjin doesn’t want to hold his hand, that’s totally fine. He’s okay with that. He doesn’t mind at all.

Noticing the dark cloud that seems to have materialized over his friend’s head, Seokjin relents with an exasperated sigh, flopping his hand palm-up over the console in an offer to Hoseok. “Fine. But if I crash this car, I’m blaming it on you.”

Hoseok grins from ear to ear as he excitedly threads his fingers with Seokjin’s. He tries not to think too hard about how perfectly they fit together.

The evening has been… a struggle, to say the least. Hoseok managed to knock his chair over when they were being seated, which would have been fine, except when he tried to pick it up, he ended up tripping over the legs and falling face-first into the aisle beside their table.

Seokjin had been hopeful that the chair debacle would be the most eventful happening of the evening, but that hope had been squashed when Hoseok knocked over a vase of flowers with his elbow during an attempt to pull out a stack of notecards from his pocket. The water had gone everywhere—including his notecards—and the waitress had given Seokjin a pitiful look as she swept up the broken glass that decorated the floor.

(The stack of notecards was mostly blank, Seokjin eventually discovered. The ones that did have writing on them had subjects like ‘windmills’, ‘circuit boards’, and ‘wyoming’ scrawled in messy loops across the front. When Seokjin gave Hoseok a questioning look, he’d explained that they were possible topics of conversation, in case he ran out of things to say.)

And now, half an hour later, Hoseok is finishing up a very long and very boring speech about elephants, looking at Seokjin expectantly as the latter sits in stunned silence.

“Wow. That was… a very thorough explanation of the stages of elephant pregnancy.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok beams. “I did lots of research. Now, onto the history of the zipper—”

“Okay, you know what?” Seokjin interrupts his friend with a tight smile, “Just… ask me a question about myself. Try to get to know me.”

“Okay,” Hoseok nods, tossing the stack of notebook cards over his shoulder haphazardly. “Okay, I can do that. Easy.” He blinks. “Uh…. I…” He stares blankly for a few seconds before dropping his head into his hands, voice muffled as he mumbles dejectedly, “God, I can’t think of anything to ask you. My mind is blank. Where are my notecards?”

“Just—Just ask me the first thing that comes to mind,” Seokjin encourages with only a hint of exasperation, grabbing Hoseok’s attention before he can reach for the soggy lump of paper sitting on the corner of the table.

Hoseok lifts his head, staring blankly for a moment before his face lights up and he blurts out, “How big is it?”

Seokjin sighs. “Really?”

“Oh my god,” Hoseok wails, “This is hopeless.”

“It’s not hopeless,” Seokjin tries to comfort with a furrowed brow. “You just… need to learn how to calm down. That’s all.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to be a nervous wreck,” Hoseok laments, sullenly snacking on a breadstick. “I just… I get so nervous, you know? My mind starts to run through all the things that could possibly go wrong and I get so desperate trying not to do or say the wrong thing that I forget what the right thing is.”

Seokjin sighs, giving his friend a sympathetic look. “Try not to get too down about it, alright? We still have all the time in the world to go on these practice dates to help you get to the bottom of whatever this problem is. It’ll all work out okay, I promise.”

Hoseok perks up a bit at that. “Thank you, Jin,” he thanks, glancing between the elder and the breadstick in his hands for a few moments before tearing it in half and offering a piece to him with a big, goofy smile.

Seokjin takes it with twinkling eyes. It’s kind of pathetic, really, that as much as he teases Hoseok, there’s absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do to keep that heart-shaped smile on his face.

Seokjin takes a different approach on his second fake date with Hoseok.

After the disastrous first date, the elder had been left wracking his brain for reasons why Hoseok is the way he is. It’s a bit of an ambiguous question, and many people would simply shrug it off as Hoseok being more nervous in social situations than most—but Seokjin knew that there was something else at play.

Hoseok is a well-liked guy. So well-liked, in fact, that when Seokjin is out perusing the town with his best-friend-slash-roommate, he finds that they’re stopped at least twice a day by complete strangers on the street because of him. Granted, the strangers aren’t quite strangers to Hoseok—they’re usually acquaintances he met at the gym, the coffee shop or even the zoo—but the point is that Seokjin doesn’t think there’s a single living thing on this planet that Hoseok isn’t friends with.

Even their houseplants prefer the younger of the two. (Hoseok vehemently denies this, but Seokjin knows it’s true. He thinks it’s because they’re attracted to the sunshine that Hoseok seems to emit every time he flashes his heart-shaped smile their way.)

The point is that Hoseok is most definitely not a nervous person, at least when it comes to platonic human interaction. The younger man is bright and loud and happy all at once, his cheery aura serving as a welcoming beacon to everyone that crosses his path. He has the largest circle of friends Seokjin has ever witnessed, and he’s even been involved in a few long-term relationships over the years.

So why can’t Hoseok seem to just act normal on first dates?

After another conversation with the man himself and a bit of reflecting on their disastrous first date, Seokjin deduced that he still had absolutely no idea what was going on inside Hoseok’s brain. However, he did manage to come up with a new plan for their second date—one that Hoseok was most definitely going to hate.

Exposure therapy.

Of course, Seokjin wasn’t going to tell Hoseok about his plan before he enacted it. That would defeat the point of it all. So, when Hoseok shows up two minutes late to their fake date with a worried expression and a mouthful of apologies, Seokjin levels him with a disinterested stare.

“You’re late.”

Hoseok’s hair is sticking every which way, a few of the sandy-colored strands plastered to his forehead. His fancy dress shirt is one button off from being correctly centered, and his pants are a bit rumpled up from something, the crinkles standing out starkly against the dark material.

“I’m so sorry,” Hoseok apologizes profusely, eyes shining with genuine guilt as he takes a nervous seat across from Seokjin. “I, uh, had to… take my... niece... to.... badminton practice?"

Seokjin hums. “How lovely. Tell me, Hoseok—what’s your niece’s name?”

"Um......... Fuckson? No, no, that's not right... Chlorissa? Torple? America?" Hoseok gulps. Shakes his head. "That—that was a lie. I don't have a niece. Is it hot in here, or is that just me?" He loosens his already uneven tie, glancing nervously towards the bathrooms behind him. "I've gotta use the... the whiz palace. You know. That place. Where you go do your business. Yeah."

Before Seokjin can say another word, Hoseok is tripping out of his chair and making a mad dash for the restrooms, stumbling all the way there. Seokjin winces when his friend takes an accidental turn into the women's restroom rather than the men's, waiting for the accompanying shriek that usually comes alongside Hoseok's all-too-common accidents.

But instead of a terrified scream, Seokjin is met with the face of a nervous Hoseok peeking out of the doorway, his eyes wide and frantic as he makes eye contact with his fake date across the restaurant.

"Bathroom!" Hoseok shouts, ignoring the stares of the other patrons in the room. "It's called a bathroom! Hah!"

Seokjin throws the staff an apologetic smile before dropping his head onto the table dramatically. They have long, long ways to go.

“Hoseok is…. in worse shape than I thought,” Seokjin admits quietly, glancing over his shoulder when he hears the sound of familiar laughter echoing from the table a few feet behind him. Hoseok is sitting by himself, laughing at… nothing. Seokjin turns back to the bartender, a close friend named Jimin, with a look of disbelief. “Is he practice laughing?”

“Maybe you should take a different approach?” Jimin muses, eyes sparkling as he glances at Hoseok over Jin’s shoulder. “Try showing him what a bad date would feel like so he doesn’t psych himself out anymore?”

“I already did that,” Seokjin groans, “I don’t know what else to try. Seriously. He just… ran off to the bathroom. After lying about having a niece.”

Jimin hums. “Maybe try laying it on a bit thicker. You’re still being too nice; you’ve gotta channel your inner asshole. Think about all the shitty dates you’ve been on in your past.”

“Isn’t that a bit mean, though?” Seokjin asks. “I’ve been on some pretty bad dates; I don’t want to traumatize him.”

“Hoseok isn’t made of glass, Jin,” Jimin smiles. “He’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, he knows how much you care about him. He’s not gonna take anything you say or do to heart.”

Seokjin sighs in resignation. “You’re right.” He glances over at his friend once more. “I guess I should get back to him before he breaks anything else. Or has another conversation with an imaginary date.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Jimin grins cheekily, “Have fun bullying your fake date!’

Seokjin flips him off before making his way back to the table, already in character when Hoseok greets him with a warm smile and bright eyes. He finds it hard not to immediately melt at the sight—not for any reason in particular; Hoseok just has that effect on people—and when he takes his seat across from the younger man, Seokjin has to push down the urge to smile back.

“What did Jiminie have to say?” Hoseok asks cheerily, fingertips drumming nervously against the tablecloth. Seokjin ignores the question and reaches over to take a french fry off of Hoseok’s plate. The younger man blinks at him in confusion, the ever-present smile on his face slipping slightly. “Jin? Is everything al—”

“So,” Seokjin interrupts loudly and leans over to snatch another fry from Hoseok’s plate, still chewing on the first one he stole as he speaks. “How do you feel about sex on the first date?”

“Uhh…” Hoseok trails off uncomfortably, shifting a bit in his seat. “I’m sorry, w-what?”

Seokjin pauses in his chewing and stares at Hoseok silently for a few seconds before swallowing dramatically, eyebrows raised in slight annoyance. “I said,” he drawls, “How do you feel about sex on the first date? I need to know if tonight is gonna be worth my time.”

“That… that’s....” Hoseok murmurs in disbelief, “Um. Wow. Okay then.”

A few beats of silence pass, the two men staring at each other uncomfortably until Seokjin breaks the silence. “Another important question. How do you feel about full moons? I love them. Personally, I feel really connected to wolves. I’m pretty sure I was a wolf in my past life, actually.”

“Wolves are… cool, I guess?” Hoseok agrees, the end of his sentence twisting to sound more like a question than a response. “They look fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” Seokjin splutters, “You’re kidding me. They’re ruthless killing machines, Hongjoong. The epitome of what an alpha male should be. I was definitely an alpha wolf in my past life.”

“Hongjoong?” Hoseok asks, pointedly ignoring whatever the hell else Seokjin just said.

“Oh. My bad. I have a date with my boyfriend later tonight—his name is Hongjoong—and I got your names kinda mixed up.” He pauses. “Wait, what’s your name again?”

“Hoseok,” he grits out.

“Ohhh,” Seokjin grins lazily, “I remember now! You’re the dude with the flat ass. Your profile said you were a dancer, though, so I thought there was a good chance you’re good in bed. We all have to make sacrifices, I guess. You get it, right?”

Hoseok’s jaw drops to the floor. It’s going to be a long, long night.

“I can’t believe you’d say that, Seokjin,” Hoseok murmurs, his eyes widened in disbelief. “That dog was my best friend, it crushed me when we had to let him go—”

“Brring brring,” Seokjin interrupts, holding up his phone before pretending to talk to someone on the other end of the line. “Oh, hey Hongjoong. Yeah. No, I’m not busy. Just on a date with the flat ass guy I told you about.” He’s silent for a few moments, never once breaking eye contact with Hoseok as he speaks into the receiver. “Yeah. Hold on, I’ll ask him.” He covers the receiver with the palm of his hand. “Hey, wanna watch a porno with me and my boyfriend tonight?”

Hoseok sits there in shocked silence for a few moments before a line of anger creases his brow, eyes narrowed in irritation as he sends a disgusted scowl Seokjin’s way. “No, Seokjin, because you’re disgusting. I am disgusted.”

Seokjin stares blankly for a few seconds. “So, it’s definitely a no?”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so horrible!” Hoseok raises his voice, gesturing wildly as he groans in frustration. “We’re just two people trying to go on a date. It’s supposed to be fun!”

“You’re right,” Seokjin grins, placing his phone down on the table. “It is just a date. Well done, my friend.”

Hoseok tilts his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry I was so rude to you,” he explains, “But now you see that even if everything goes wrong, you’ll survive. Dates are meant to be fun, Hoseok—there’s no need to put so much pressure on yourself.”

“Oh.” Hoseok blinks. “Ohhh,” a grin begins to stretch across his face as he leans back in his chair, “I see what you did there, you sneaky, sneaky smurf.”

Seokjin shakes his head, watching with a small smile as Hoseok immediately delves into his opinion on the newest Scooby-Doo live action movie. Some things never change, he thinks to himself, unable to keep the wave of fondness that washes over him at bay.

It’s on the third date that Seokjin realizes he loves Hoseok.

Now, in a normal situation, Seokjin would agree that the third date is a bit soon to be making such powerful declarations. But this isn’t a normal situation, and Seokjin is pretty sure that he’s actually been in love with his best friend for a long, long time.

He isn’t sure why it took him so long to figure it out, nor does he know why the sight of Hoseok laughing at a joke he made while sipping on a strawberry milkshake is The Moment™ that the realization dawned upon him—but that doesn’t matter; not really. Because Hoseok is smiling at him with crinkles by his eyes and dimples on full display and he thinks his heart is about to beat clear out of his chest.

Seokjin isn’t an absolute disaster on first dates like his friend tends to be, but he hasn’t had a long term relationship since moving in with Hoseok two years ago, either. He never really took the time to think about why that is—he always assumed he just hadn’t found “the one” yet—but looking at it in hindsight, it’s because nobody compared to Hoseok. Nobody compares to him now, sitting across the booth from Seokjin with his twinkling eyes and excited hand gestures.

Hoseok is doing far better than he did on their past two dates. Seokjin managed to convince him to leave the notecards with topics of conversation on them at their apartment, and while Hoseok was nervous that he’d run out of things to discuss without them by his side, he soon realized he had nothing to worry about.

He had nothing to worry about, because Seokjin is completely and utterly enamored by every little thing that Hoseok says, clinging to the words that fall from his lips no matter how silly they might be. Because Hoseok’s words have a warmth to them; they’re instilled with pure joy, spoken with a bright smile and sprinkled with love.

“Jin?” Hoseok’s voice breaks Seokjin out of his thoughts. He’s waving his hand haphazardly in front of his face, peppering in a snap of his fingers every so often for added effect. “Anyone home?”

“Cut it out.” Seokjin bats away Hoseok’s hands, fighting the smile creeping onto his face.

Hoseok pouts. “You weren’t paying attention to me.”

If only you knew, Seokjin thinks to himself. Instead, he says: “You haven’t done anything yet to grab my attention. By now, you’ve usually broken at least one inanimate object and offended at least two workers.”

“That means I’ve improved!” Hoseok points out with a grin, chomping down excitedly on a curly fry dipped in ranch. “I think I’m just about ready for a real date, Jin.”

Seokjin freezes. “You are,” he agrees slowly, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his chest.

“You know, there’s this cute boy who gave me his number the other day at the ice cream shop,” Hoseok babbles mindlessly as he scrolls through his contacts, “I could shoot him a text. He seemed nice enough, and it’d be a great way to test my improvement out in the real world, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin murmurs as he fidgets with the strings on his hoodie. “Yes. That sounds great, Hobi.”

The fake date carries on like normal. Seokjin rolls his eyes at Hoseok’s antics one too many times, and the younger man laughs a little too enthusiastically at his cheesy puns and dad jokes. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for their fake dates—except this time, Seokjin finds himself wishing it was real.

It’s been a long time since Seokjin has allowed himself to sulk, but he’s pretty sure that being hit with the realization that he’s in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate and knowing that his feelings aren’t returned are good enough reasons to dig into his emergency stash of ice cream.

Hoseok is out on a date tonight. A date that isn’t with Seokjin. He left about fifteen minutes ago, Sekojin notes as he glances at his watch in dismay. He’s probably out cracking jokes and knocking over chairs and breaking water glasses and embarrassing himself—all with a stranger.

Not Seokjin.

Never Seokjin; at least, never again.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping clumsily at his front door. He sets his ice cream down on the coffee table with a huff, because he has a sinking feeling that his perfectly valid plans for a lonely night filled with self-pity are about to be interrupted. He just wants to eat his ice cream in peace, dammit—not to mention he hasn’t even had time to be sad about Hoseok’s date yet.

But when Seokjin opens the door to see Hoseok standing there with a smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers, his heart can’t help but tremble.

“Hobi. This is literally our apartment, you don’t have to knock.”

Hoseok winks. “I know.”

“Did you forget your keys or something?” Seokjin asks, the hint of exhaustion tinging the edge of his words suddenly fading away to make room for confusion when the smattering of pink, yellow and white flowers in Hoseok’s arms suddenly registers in his mind. “Wait, why do you have flowers? I thought you were meeting that boy from the ice cream shop? Oh my god, did you already run him off, that has to be a new record for you—”

“I’m the one who called off the date,” Hoseok interrupts, his grin never fading as Seokjin continues to look at him with growing uncertainty.

“What? I thought you liked him?”

Hoseok shrugs. “I went to buy him flowers before we met up, but I realized that I didn’t really want to be buying flowers for him after all.”

“I… don’t think I’m quite following what you’re saying, Hobi,” Seokjin drawls, eyes wide and brows raised. “You called off the date because you didn’t feel like buying flowers?”

“I called off the date because I realized that I wanted to be buying flowers for you, not the cute ice cream guy,” Hoseok says cheerily, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I wanted to be buying a bouquet of flowers for you. I wanted to be meeting you at that restaurant, for a real, actual date.”

Seokjin blinks. Hoseok carries on.

“You see, I was looking at all the different colored roses and I thought ‘Hey, these colors remind me of Seokjin’, and then it hit me that I’m kind of in love with you. Like, really in love with you. Head over heels. Absolutely bonkers. Unbelievably enamored, if you will. Hey, has anyone ever told you that you have really kissable lips? They’re, like, super soft and shiny and pretty. I really wanna kiss them. Can I? Is that too forward of me?”

Hoseok finally halts his rambling of words with an excited grin, completely oblivious to the way Seokjin stands flabbergasted just a few feet in front of him. His chest feels warm and fuzzy and he doesn’t think twice before reaching out and pulling Hoseok into a kiss. It’s messy and uncoordinated and their teeth accidentally clash when Hoseok makes a loud noise of surprise, but it’s perfect, their bodies fitting together like two missing puzzle pieces as they sink into each other’s embrace.

And when Seokjin finally pulls away after an indiscernible amount of time, he finds that the only words he can manage to say are, “That was the least romantic confession I’ve ever heard.”

“Sorry,” Hoseok grins, not actually sorry at all. “Does this mean that you like me back, though?”

Seokjin throws him an incredulous look. “I literally just made out with you in our front doorway. Where all the neighbors can see us.”

“Bros kiss all the time, my dude. I just wanted to make sure that was an ‘i’m-in-love-with-you’ kiss, not an ‘i-know-we’re-bros-and-all-but-i-kinda-wanna-kiss-you-because-you’re-hot’ kiss.”

“Why would it ever be the second option?” Seokjin asks, dumbfounded. “Wait—which of your ‘bros’ have you been kissing? Why didn’t I ever know about this?”

“Jungkook. Only when we’re drunk, though.”

“Oh my god,” Seokjin groans, “Is that where the two of you would run off to every time we went to a house party together?”

Hoseok snickers. “Maybe.”

“I did not need to know that. Please, take it back. Wipe my memory away with one of those little Apple TV remotes from Men In Black.”

“Don’t worry, Jin,” Hoseok laughs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his lips. “You’re the only person I wanna sneak off with now. Besides, Jungkook has his eyes on Taehyung these days.”

“Whatever,” Seokjin grumbles in a voice that the both of them know isn’t truly bothered. “And to be clear, that kiss earlier was actually a ‘you’re-an-idiot-but-for-some-reason-i-love-you-too kiss. Now get back over here and let me kiss you again.”

Seokjin and Hoseok’s dates still manage to end in disaster more often than not. But Hoseok always reacts with an embarrassed giggle and a smile on his face, and Seokjin wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

A/N; yes i’m alive. sorry 😳

MASTERLIST

#hoseok x seokjin #2seok #hoseok #seokjin #bts fic #bts fluff #bangtanuniversity #bts mxm

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peachnewt · 4 years

Text

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread 1

Merry Christmas, ya’ll!

I wanted to do something for the holidays involving my slow burn boys. Somehow, this rose to the top. Here is the first taste of Louis and Will switching places in the pred/prey relationship, while in a fantasy setting. ^_^

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread

by peachnewt

Part 1

Once upon a time, a mountain in the West grew so tall that it's peaks, covered in icy snow, would reflect the sun's light like a candle, lighting the valley with a golden glow an hour after sunset. Thus, the mountain was called the Lantern Pillars and the inhabitants of the valley benefitted from the extra hours of light to store away supplies for the harsh winter and pursue artistic endeavors. Buildings and towers stretched like candles ever upwards, bearing banners and stained glass that could be seen in any blizzard. The valley, called Wax Wake, became the jewel of the Pillars, a destination for many nobles and merchant passing through the mountains with their exotic goods.

But one area of the Pillars lay in the lee of the various crags and slopes in the mountain range; a rocky, forested area called the Greyfells. In that dim and cold stretch of land lived a giant name Louis, the Grey.

Louis was an imposing figure, standing almost eighty feet high with wide shoulders, ice gray eyes, and a silvery blond mane of hair. This wasn't a "fee-fi-fo-fum" giant that barreled around the countryside in rough furs, demanding maidens to keep his cave tidy, or oxen to feed his hunger, or gold to upkeep his lifestyle. His mother raised him and his two older brothers better. He kept his cave in semi-chaotic order with baskets and hangers for his possessions, did his own laundry, varied his diet with vegetables and other forage-foods so he didn't need to spend as much money on meat, and he had a yearly stipend for protecting mountain passes from bandits and clearing out rubble for merchant caravans.

But Louis still wore rough furs. Why wear fine wool or linens when they would tear on the slopes? Plus it was cold up there.

And Louis did have a temper. While he didn't boom "fee-fi-fo-fum", he did grumble like a storm when the local coffee house didn't count out enough beans to last until his next monthly grocery run. It was basic math, take the normal about of coffee a person needed and scale it up by sixteen.

When one passed through the mountain trails they saw deep pits from fists, slashes of red, and the strike of an axe blade bigger than a wagon. Sometimes, at night when the Lantern Pillars had dimmed the townsfolk could see sparks flying in the Greyfells, an axe hitting stone. They heard tale of blood-thirst and violence from a surviving bandit that surrendered himself to the authorities in Wax Wake after the band he had been allied with had been destroyed.

At one point in the early Autumn, Louis left for a week. "Visiting family", he said to those left in charge of the mountain pass. When he came back, he had dark bags under his eyes, a large sack over his shoulder, and a posture akin to a starved wolf.

"I'm working on something important," he growled at the human guards. "I'll do my rounds, but don't expect anything else unless it's an emergency."

It had been customary for Wax Wake to hire the giant to help clean the stain glass of their towers, since he could reach them so easily, and hang the new banners for the winter celebrations. They dared not ask this year. Louis stayed in the Greyfells.

No One with any brains or sense of self preservation wandered near the Greyfells, or pried into Louis the Grey's business.

***

"If I had any brains I would have stayed with a caravan and waited until morning," William hissed to himself and the blizzard. His booted feet sunk into another snowdrift.

William had been traveling with a group of builders and craftsmen on their way to Wax Wake to peddle their wears and skills. It was a rite of passage to try their hands in the jeweled city. But their wagon axel broke halfway down the mountain. They hadn't the supplies to repair it and civilization was half a day away. William had offered to find help, and went off in the direction of Wax Wake. Except a blizzard had descended; white, blinding, howling, turning him around until he could not tell north from south.

Night had fallen. William, still lost, squinted for any sign of light in the darkness. He tucked his hands under his armpits, sinking his chin into the scarf around his neck.

His nose, not his sight, had been his salvation. William smelled cloves, ginger, and cinnamon on the breeze. Cookies? William thought. Spicebread? He hadn't eaten since noon and his stomach growled, bidding him onward.

He saw a faint light in the same direction as the scent. Shelter, he hoped.

William wove through the trees and scratching branches until the bramble broke into a clearing pure white. The wind died in the circle, the snow and moonlight pristine as it lit up a lopsided brown shack caked in bits of white. William didn't care how badly made the domicile was, it was shelter from the cold, hopefully occupied with someone that could help him, and feed him.

"Hello?" William trudged on towards the shack. Warm spice hung in the air along with the overwhelming aroma of sugar. And the snow under his feet felt different, more like sand.

He peered into the shack. A stub of a candle, as big around as his thigh, had been lit and took up the majority of the wooden floor. No furniture, no people aside from him.

"Anyone home?"

What an odd house, he mused. Stepping inside, the smell of gingerbread surrounded him, yet the only piece of gingerbread he saw was a stale hunk the size of his fist to the side of the candle. If no one was home, they wouldn't be grudge him a bit of gingerbread from the floor.

While chewing on the hunk of gingerbread, delicious, he examined the rest of the rough house. The vaulted roof had gaps filled in with a white paste burned from the candle. His eye followed the wall, attached to the roof with a tilt, leaving another gap filled in with white paste. The house wasn't hewn from stone, brick, or wood. Was it wattle and daub? Clay?

Will tested a ragged, brown wall, scratching it with a cold fingernail. "It's gingerbread?"

The tiny scratch, however, was enough to test the structural integrity of the shack and find it wanting.

Down came the walls, burying William in giant slabs of gingerbread, snuffing the candle.

---

Will woke stuck between a pool of slowly cooling wax and a slab of gingerbread pinning him across his stomach. Will gasped, trying to fill his lungs. Despite its confectionary nature, the slab of what had once been a roof, or perhaps a wall, could not be shifted no matter how much he struggled. Pinned as he was, he couldn't eat his way out either. He would either freeze to death, or suffocate.

Will bleated out into the night for help until his throat felt like sand and the wax under him had hardened. Then he heard a rumble, vibrating the ground and making the edge of the roof dig deeper into his belly.

An avalanche?

Instead Will heard of roar of frustration and the slab over him was lifted as if it was light as a feather.

A giant face, bearded, blond, and full of icy fury stared at him. The whispered giant of the Greyfells dressed in furs and breath of frost.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!"

***

Louis had stomped through the forest towards the protective circle he had set up for his project. He carried a bag of red candies and a pot of icing with a small trowel. If he could get all of the decorations up tonight then he could sleep in the next day. When he arrived, he saw a set of footprints in the pristine snow, and the gingerbread house collapsed. Of course when he lifted the roof he'd find a meddling human.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me!?" Louis snapped.

"What?" breathed the human.

Louis tossed the gingerbread roof to the ground where it broke into four pieces, and then pulled the brown haired human out with one hand. He stared at little menace, eye to beady eye. "I've been trying to keep this damned house together with sugar paste and a prayer, and then you come along and nibble on it like a fuckin' mouse until it falls?!"

"It was an accident!" yelled the human, pawing at the large hand that held him with his one free arm. The tips of his feet, sticking out the other end of the giant's fist, twitched. "I was lost and looking for shelter and food. And the shack wasn't stable, I barely touched it! And the only piece of gingerbread I ate had already fallen from the walls!"

"Shack!?" Fury lit up the giant's eyes like lightning. He squeezed the human just enough to make him wheeze. "I worked all day on this house and you call it a shack?"

"S-sorry, but by definition it was a shack. Though a delicious one. I'm sure you can build a better one in a few hours."

Louis didn't want to admit that the fallen shack had taken him two days, and had been his best effort out of seven.

"I'm out of patience, out of my mind, and out of coffee," growled Louis. He felt cruel and liked it, tapping into the reputation giants had gained as blood-thirsty ogres. "You picked the wrong day to piss me off. Cause I also haven't eaten in the last five days."

Will gulped, suddenly nervous at seeing the giant's perfect grin. "There is something admiral to be found in fasting in protest or in pursuit of a passion. Why break such a streak? Why not six days?"

"Oh, I don't know." Louis let his growling stomach speak for itself, causing the human to blanche. "Maybe because it'll make me feel better."

"I'm sure we can talk about this in a reasonable manner!" screeched the human as he was pulled closer to the giant's mouth.

"Reason left long ago." Around the same time he had left to visit home and got saddled with this ridiculous task.

"There is always time for reason. Starting with introductions! I'm William James Rowe from Brex." William stuck his hand out in the giant's directions, as if expecting a handshake. "And you are?"

Louis unclenched his jaw and breathed in the smell of sweat, sugar, and fear. "Hungry."

Part 2

#Giant/tiny #pred/prey #midnight snack #g/t writing #peachnewt

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hellomynameisbisexual · 4 years

Text

As a nonbinary bisexual, I’m no stranger to people erasing me and telling me that I’m something I’m not. With the rise of terms like “pansexuality” and “omnisexuality,” many people unfamiliar with the true nature of bisexuality now think that it’s transphobic or otherwise binary — some go so far as to claim bisexuals only believe in two genders.

People assert that, while bisexuality allegedly means “attraction to two genders,” pansexuality and omnisexuality, unlike bisexuality, denote “attraction to all genders.” It’s easy to think this way if only examining the terms at face value, but this comparison is an outright lie. Some others say that new labels were a response to transphobic exclusion from the bisexual community — this is similarly not the case. (I’ll be compiling a piece on the history of the “pansexual” label at a later date.) Using this “reasoning” to separate bisexuality from these other terms is woefully inaccurate and disrespectful to bisexual and transgender people.

While there are cissexist definitions of bisexuality, that holds true for “gay” and “straight,” too. Bisexuals have also described our orientation as attraction regardless of gender¹ for decades — at least fifty years or so — and we still do. Before words like “transgender” and “nonbinary” came about, bisexuals still often saw themselves as attracted to people beyond gender.

Androgyny and gender-nonconformity are also a staple in bisexual culture. Major bisexual icons throughout history explored and embraced it. Look at bisexual chic, especially the glam rock era. Some bisexual activists and organizations have historically included and allied with transgender and nonbinary people, and many of us are transgender or nonbinary ourselves.

Below are just a few examples of the hidden secret of our gender-expansiveness. (Including a quote here does not equal my approval of what was said. Keep in mind the times during which they were recorded as well as the footnotes.)

Sources without links can be downloaded for free from ZLibrary, borrowed from the Open Library, or found wherever you purchase or borrow physical books. Sources without a year next to them are those for which I could not find the publish date.

“…the very wealth and humanity of bisexuality itself: for to exclude from one’s love any entire group of human beings because of class, age, or race or religion, or sex, is surely to be poorer — deeply and systematically poorer.”

— Kate Miller (1974)

“It’s easier, I believe, for exclusive heterosexuals to tolerate (and that’s the word) exclusive homosexuals than [bisexuals] who, rejecting exclusivity, sleep with people not genders…”

— Martin Duberman (1974)

“Margaret Mead in her Redbook magazine column wrote an article titled ‘Bisexuality: What’s It All About?’ in which she cited examples of bisexuality from the distant past as well as recent times, commenting that writers, artists, and musicians especially ‘cultivated bisexuality out of a delight with personality, regardless of race or class or sex.’”

— Janet Bode, “From Myth to Maturation,” View From Another Closet: Exploring Bisexuality in Women (1976)

“Being bisexual does not mean they have sexual relations with both sexes but that they are capable of meaningful and intimate involvement with a person regardless of gender.”

— Janet Bode, “The Pressure Cooker,” View From Another Closet (1976)

“A sex-change night club queen has claimed she had a bizarre love affair with rock superstar David Bowie. Drag artiste Ronny Haag said she lived with the bisexual singer while he was making his new film, “Just a Gigolo,” in Berlin. […] Ronny says: ‘I am a real woman.’”

— Kenelm Jenour, “I Was Bowie’s She-Man!”, Daily Mirror (1978)²

“[John] reacted emotionally to both sexes with equal intensity. ‘I love people, regardless of their gender,’ he told me.”

— Charlotte Wolff, “Early Influences,” Bisexuality, a Study (1979)

“On Saturday, February 9, San Francisco’s Bisexual Center will conduct a Gender/Sexuality Workshop. ‘We will explore the interrelationships of gender feelings and sexual preference… We will discuss sexuality and whether we choose to play out the gender role assigned to us by society or whether we can shift to attitudes supposedly held by the opposite gender, if those feel good to us. We will deal with the issue of the TV/TS [transvestite/transsexual] in transition and how sexuality evolves as gender role changes. We will attempt to present a summary of the fragmented and confusing information on gender and sexuality.’”

— The Gateway (1980)

“J: Are we ever going to be able to define what bisexuality is?

S: Never completely. That’s just it — the variety of lifestyles that we see between us defies definition.”

— “Conversations,” Bi Women: The Newsletter of the Boston Bisexual Women’s Network (1984)

“Bisexuality, however, is a valid sexual experience. While many gays have experienced bisexuality as a stage in reaching their present identity, this should not invalidate the experience of people for whom sexual & affectional desire is not limited by gender. For in fact many bisexuals experience lesbianism or homosexuality as a stage in reaching their sexual identification.

— Megan Morrison, “What We Are Doing,” Bi Women (1984)

“In the midst of whatever hardships we [bisexuals] had encountered, this day we worked with each other to preserve our gift of loving people for who they are regardless of gender.”

— Elissa M., “Bi Conference,” Bi Women (1985)

“I believe that people fall in love with individuals, not with a sex… I believe most of us will end up acknowledging that we love certain people or, perhaps, certain kinds of people, and that gender need not be a significant category, though for some of us it may be.”

— Ruth Hubbard, “There Is No ‘Natural’ Human Sexuality, Bi Women (1986)

“I am bisexual because I am drawn to particular people regardless of gender. It doesn’t make me wishy-washy, confused, untrustworthy, or more sexually liberated. It makes me a bisexual.”

— Lani Ka’ahumanu, “The Bisexual Community: Are We Visible Yet?” (1987)

“To be bisexual is to have the potential to be open emotionally and sexually to people as people, regardless of their gender.”

— Office Pink Publishing, “Introduction,” Bisexual Lives (1988)

“We made signs and slashes. My favorite read, ‘When it’s love in all its splendor, it doesn’t matter what the gender.’”

— Beth Reba Weise, “Being There and Being Bi: The National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights,” Bi Women (1988)

“…bisexual usually also implies that relations with gender minorities are possible.”

— Thomas Geller, Bisexuality: a Reader and Sourcebook (1990)

“Many objections have been raised to the use of [“bisexual”], the most common being that it emphasizes two things that, paradoxically, bisexuals are the least likely to be involved with: the dualistic separation of male and female in society, and the physical implications of the suffix ‘-sexual’.”

— Thomas Geller, Bisexuality: a Reader and Sourcebook (1990)

“Bisexuality is a whole, fluid identity. Do not assume that bisexuality is binary or duogamous in nature: that we have ‘two’ sides or that we must be involved simultaneously with both genders to be fulfilled human beings. In fact, don’t assume that there are only two genders.”

— The Bay Area Bisexual Network, “The 1990 Bisexual Manifesto,” Anything That Moves (1990)

“Bisexuality works to subvert the gender system and everything it upholds because it is not based on gender… Bisexuality subverts gender; bisexual liberation also depends on the subversion of gender categories.”

— Karin Baker and Helen Harrison, “Letters,” Bi Women (1990)

“I tell them, whether or not I use the word ‘bisexual,’ that I am proud of being able to express my feelings toward a person, regardless of gender, in whatever way I desire.”

— Naomi Tucker, “What’s in a Name?”, Bi Any Other Name (1991)³

“Some women who call themselves ‘bisexual’ insist that the gender of their lover is irrelevant to them, that they do not choose lovers on the basis of gender.”

— Marilyn Murphy, “Thinking About Bisexuality,” Bi Women (1991)

“Results supported the hypothesis that gender is not a critical variable in sexual attraction in bisexual individuals. Personality or physical dimensions not related to gender and interaction style were the salient characteristics on which preferred sexual partners were chosen, and there was minimal grid distance between preferred male and preferred female partners. These data support the argument that, for some bisexual individuals, sexual attraction is not gender-linked. […] …the dimensions which maximally separate most preferred sexual partners are not gender-based in seven of the nine grids.”

— M W Ross, J P Paul, “Beyond Gender: The Basis of Sexual Attraction in Bisexual Men and Women” (1992)

“[S]ome bisexuals say they are blind to the gender of their potential lovers and that they love people as people… For the first group, a dichotomy of genders between which to choose doesn’t seem to exist[.]”

— Kathleen Bennett, “Feminist Bisexuality, a Both/And Option for an Either/Or World,” Closer to Home: Bisexuality and Feminism (1992)

“The expressed desires of [female bisexual] respondents differed in many cases from their experience. 37 respondents preferred women as sexual partners; 9 preferred men. 21 women had no preference, and 35 said they preferred sex with particular individuals, regardless of gender.”

— Sue George, “Living as bisexual,” Women and Bisexuality (1993)

“Who is this group for exactly? Anyone who identifies as bisexual or thinks they are attracted to or interested in all genders… This newly formed [support] group is to create a supportive, safe environment for people who are questioning their sexual orientation and think they may be bisexual.”

— “Coming Out as Bisexual,” Bi Women (1994)

“It is logical and necessary for bisexuals to recognize the importance of gender politics — not just because transsexuals, cross-dressers, and other transgender people are often assumed to be bisexual… […] I have talked to the bisexual practicers of pre-op transsexuals who feel they have the best of both worlds because their lover embodies woman and man together.² Is that not a connection between bisexuality and transgenderism? […] Some of us are bisexual because we do not pay much attention to the gender of our attractions; some of us are bisexual because we do see tremendous gender differences and want to experience them all. […] With respect to our integrity as bisexuals, it is our responsibility to include transgendered people in our language, in our communities, in our politics, and in our lives.”

— Naomi Tucker, “The Natural Next Step,” Bisexual Politics: Theories, Queries, and Visions (1995)

“The first wave of people who started the Bi Center were political radicals and highly motivated people. The group was based on inclusivity… for example, in the women’s groups, anybody who identified as a woman had the right to be there, so a lot of transgender people started coming to the Bi Center.”

— Naomi Tucker, “Bay Area Bisexual History: An Interview with David Lourea,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“[B]isexual consciousness, because of its amorphous quality and inclusionary nature, posed a fundamental threat to the dualistic and exclusionary thought patterns which were — and still are — tenaciously held by both the gay liberation leadership and its enemies.”

— Stephen Donaldson, “The Bisexual Movement’s Beginnings in the 70s,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“If anything, being bi has made me hyper-aware of the sexual differences between [men and women]. And I still get hot for both. But I do experience something that is similar to gender blindness. It’s this: being bisexual means I could potentially find myself sexually attracted to anybody. Therefore, as a bisexual, I don’t make the distinction that monosexuals do between the gender you fuck and the gender you don’t.”

— Greta Christina, “Bi Sexuality,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“[A]nd too / I am bisexual / in my history / in my capacity / in my fantasies / in my abilities / in my love for beautiful people / regardless of gender.”

— Dajenya, “Bisexual Lesbian,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“The bisexual community should be a place where lines are erased. Bisexuality dismisses, disproves, and defies dichotomies. It connotes a loss of rigidity and absolutes. It is an inclusive term. […] Despite how we choose to identify ourselves, the bisexual community still seems a logical place for transsexuals to find a home and a voice. Bisexuals need to educate themselves on transgender issues. At the same time, bisexuals should be doing education and outreach to the transsexual community, offering transsexuals an arena to further explore their sexualities and choices. Such outreach would also help break down gender barriers and misconceptions within the bisexual community itself. […] If the bisexual community turns its back on transsexuals, it is essentially turning its back on itself.”

— K. Martin-Damon, “Essay for the Inclusion of Transsexuals,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“As bisexuals, we are necessarily prompted to come up with non-binary ways of thinking about sexual orientation. For many of us, this has also prompted a move toward non-binary ways of thinking about sex and gender.”

— Rebecca Kaplan, “Your Fence Is Sitting on Me: The Hazards of Binary Thinking,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“And so we love each other and wish love for each other, regardless (to the extent possible) of gender and sex.”

— Oma Izakson, “If Half of You Dodges a Bullet, All of You Ends Up Dead,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“Similarly, the modern bisexual movement has dissolved the strict dichotomy between ‘gay’ and ‘straight’ (without invalidating our homosexual or heterosexual friends and lovers.) We have insisted on our desire and freedom to love people of all genders.”

— Sunfrog, “Pansies Against Patriarchy,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“In the bisexual movement as a whole, transgendered individuals are celebrated not only as an aspect of the diversity of the bisexual community, but because, like bisexuals, they do not fit neatly into dichotomous categories. Jim Frazin wrote that ‘the construction and destruction of gender’ is a subject of mutual interest to bisexuals and transsexuals who are, therefore, natural allies.”

— Paula C. Rust, Bisexuality and the Challenge to Lesbian Politics: Sex, Loyalty, and Revolution (1995)

“Is bisexuality even about gender at all? ‘I don’t desire a gender,’ 25[-]year-old Matthew Ehrlich says.”

— Deborah Block-Schwenk, “Newsweek Comes Out as Supportive,” Bi Women (1995)

“One woman expressed the desire to elide categorical differences by reporting that she finds ‘relationships with men and women to be quite similar — the differences are in the individuals, not in their sex.’ Others expressed their ideal as choosing partners ‘regardless of gender…’”

— Amber Ault, Ambiguous Identity in an Unambiguous Sex/Gender Structure: The Case of Bisexual Women (1996)

“Most conceptual models of bisexuality explain it in terms of conflictual or confused identity development, [r-slur] sexual development, or a defence against ‘true’ heterosexuality or homosexuality. It has been suggested, however, that some individuals can eroticize more than one love object regardless of gender, that sexual patterns could be more variable and fluid than theoretical notions tend to allow, and that sexual desire may not be as fixed and static in individuals as is assumed by ‘essential’ sexual categories and identities.”

— E.Antonio de Moya and Rafael García, “AIDS and the Enigma of Bisexuality in the Dominican Republic,” Bisexualities and AIDS: International Perspectives (1996)

“I’m bi. That simply means I can be attracted to a person without consideration of their gender.”

— E. Grace Noonan, “Out on the Job: DEC Open to Bi Concerns,” Bi Women (1996)

“BiCon should accept transgender people as being on their chosen gender, this includes any single gender events.”

— BiCon Guidelines (1998)⁴

“The probability is that your relationship is based on, or has nestled itself into something based more on the relationship between two identities than on the relationship between two people. That’s what we’re taught: man/man, woman/woman, woman/man, top/bottom, butch/femme, man/woman/man, etc. We’re never taught person/person. That’s what the bisexual movement has been trying to teach us. We’re never taught that, so we fall into the trap of ‘you don’t love me, you love my identity.’”

— Kate Bornstein, My Gender Workbook (1998)

“Transsexuality and bisexuality both occupy heretical thresholds of human experience. We confound, illuminate and explore border regions. We challenge because we appear to break inviolable laws. Laws that feel ‘natural.’ And quite possibly, since we are not the norm or even average, it is likely that one function we have is to subvert those norms or laws; to break down the sleepy and unimaginative law of averages.”

— Max Wolf Valerio, “The Joker Is Wild: Changing Sex + Other Crimes of Passion,” Anything That Moves (1998)

“From the earliest years of the bi community, significant numbers of TV/TS and transgender people have always been involved with it. The bi community served as a kind of refuge for people who felt excluded from the established gay and lesbian communities.”

— Kevin Lano, “Bisexuality and Transgenderism,” Anything That Moves (1998)

“A large group of bisexual women reported in a Ms. magazine article that when they fell in love it was with a person rather than a gender…”

— Betty Fairchild and Nancy Hayward, “What is Gay?”, Now that You Know: A Parents’ Guide to Understanding Their Gay and Lesbian Children (1998)

“Over the past fifteen years, however, [one Caucasian man] has realized that he is ‘attracted to people — not their sexual identity’ and no longer cares whether his partners are male or female. He has kept his Bi identity and now uses it to refer to his attraction to people regardless of their gender.”

— Paula C. Rust, “Sexual Identity and Bisexual Identities,” Queer Studies: A Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Anthology (1998)

“Bisexual — being emotionally and physically attracted to all genders.”

— The Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network, “Out of the Past: Teacher’s Guide” (1999)

“There were a lot of transvestites and transsexuals who came to [the San Francisco Bisexual Center in the 1970s], because they were not going to be turned away because of the way they dressed.”

— David Lourea, “Bisexual Histories in San Francisco in the 1970s and Early 1980s,” 2000 Journal of Bisexuality

“Respondent #658 said that both are irrelevant; ‘who I am sexually attracted to has nothing to do with their sex/gender,’ whereas Respondent #418 focuses specifically on the irrelevance of sex: I find myself attracted to either men or women. The outside appendages are rather immaterial, as it is the inner being I am attracted to. […] Respondent #495 recalled that “the best definition I’ve ever heard is someone who is attracted to people & gender/sex is not an issue or factor in that attraction.” […] As Respondent #269 put it, “I do not exclude a person from consideration as a possible love interest on the basis of sex/gender.” […] For most individuals who call themselves bisexual, bisexual identity reflects feelings of attraction, sexual and otherwise, toward women and men or toward other people regardless of their gender.”

— Paula C. Rust, “Two Many and Not Enough: The Meanings of Bisexual Identities,” 2000 Journal of Bisexuality

“Giovanni’s distinction between what he wants and who he wants resonates with the language of many of today’s bisexuals, who insist that they fall in love with a person, not a gender.”

— Marjorie Garber, Bisexuality and the Eroticism of Everyday Life (2000)

“The message of bisexuality — that people are more than their gender; that we accept all people, regardless of Kinsey scale rating; that we embrace people regardless of age, weight, clothing, hair style, gender expression, race, religion and actually celebrate our diversity — that message is my gospel. I travel, write, do web sites — all to let people know that the bisexual community will accept you, will let you be who you are, and will not expect you to fit in a neat little gender/sexuality box.”

— Wendy Curry, “Celebrating Bisexuality,” Bi Women (2000)

“But really, just like I can’t believe in the heterosexist binary gender system, I have difficulty accepting wholeheartedly any one spiritual tradition.”

— Anonymous, “A Methodical Awakening,” Bi Women (2002)

“But there are also many bis, such as myself, for whom gender has no place in the list of things that attract them to a person. For instance, I like people who are good listeners, who understand me and have interests similar to mine, and I am attracted to people with a little padding here and there, who have fair skin and dark hair (although I’m pretty flexible when it comes to looks). ‘Male’ or ‘female’ are not anywhere to be found in the list of qualities I find attractive.”

— Karin Baker, “Bisexual Basics,” Solidarity-us.org (2002)

“Bisexual: A person who is attracted to people regardless of gender (a person does not have to have a relationship to be bisexual!)”

— Bowling Green State University, “Queer Glossary” (2003)

“The bisexual community seems to be disappearing. Not that there won’t always be people around who like to have sex with people of all genders, the community, as I’ve discussed in this book, is a different matter altogether.”

— William Burleson, Bi America: Myths, Truths, and Struggles of an Invisible Community (2005)

“Although bisexuals in general may or may not be more enlightened about gender issues, there has been, and continues to be, in most places around the country a strong connection between the transgender and the bisexual communities. Indeed, the two communities have been strong allies. Why is this? One reason certainly is, as I mentioned earlier, the significant number of people who are both bisexual and transgender.”

— William Burleson, Bi America: Myths, Truths, and Struggles of an Invisible Community (2005)

“Amy: […] But my friend’s question got me thinking: given the fact that so many bisexual friends and community members reject the idea that gender has to have a relation to attraction and behavior, why should I reject the bi label? Why did her question even come up? How relevant is gender to the concept of bisexuality? If bisexuals like me don’t care about gender the way monosexuals do, why would my identity label exclude my lovers’ gender variations?

Kim: …Like you, I’m a bi person who sees gender as fluid rather than fixed or dichotomous… I’ve also felt outside pressure to reject my bi identity based on the idea that it perpetuates the gender binary: woman/man. However, this idea reduces bisexual to ‘bi’ and ‘sexual’ and disregards the fact that it represents a history, a community, a substantial body of writing, and the right of the bisexual community to define ‘bisexuality’ on its own terms. Most importantly, this idea disregards how vital these things are for countless bi people. Identifying as bi doesn’t inherently mean anything, and it definitely doesn’t mean a person only recognizes two genders. However, to assume that bi-identified people exclude transgender, gender nonconforming (GNC), and genderqueer people also assumes they are not trans, GNC, or genderqueer themselves, when in fact, many are.”

— Kim Westrick and Amy Andre, “Semantic Wars,” Bi Women (2009)

“The [intracommunity biphobia] problem is very serious, because bisexuals, along with trans folks, are the rejects among rejects, that is to say, those who suffer from discrimination (gays and lesbians) discriminate against bis and trans folks. It is for this reason, at least here in Mexico City, that Opción Bi allies itself with transsexuals, transgender people and transvestites, and works together with them whenever possible. It seems to me we are closer to the trans communities than to the lesbian and gay ones.”

— Robyn Ochs, “Bis Around the World: Myriam Brito, Mexican City,” Bi Women (2009)

“I introduce myself as bisexual, because I am attracted to people, across gender lines, and ‘bisexual’ comes closest to explaining that.”

— B.J. Epstein, “Bye Bi Labels,” Bi Women (2009)

“Bisexuality is not some kind of middle-ground between heterosexuality and homosexuality; rather I imagine it as a way to erode the fixed systems of gender and sexual identity which always result in guilt, fear, lies[,] and discrimination.”

— Carlos Iván Suárez García, “What Is Bisexuality?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)⁵

“To me, bisexuality is a matter of loving and accepting everyone equally — seeing the beauty in the human soul, rather than in the shell that houses it. Being transgender, I know firsthand that love between two people can transcend — even embrace — what society regards as taboo. Bisexuality is a mindset of revolution, a mindset of change. We’re creating a brave new world of acceptance and love for all people, of all the myriad genders and methods of sexual expression that this world contains.

— Jessica, “What Is Bisexuality?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“Bisexuality (whatever that means) for me is about the ability to relate to all people at a deep emotional level. It is an openness of the heart. It is the absence of limits, especially those that are defined by the other person’s sex.”

— Andrea Toselli, “Coming Out Bisexual,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“Considering my personal preferences, calling myself ‘bisexual’ covers a wider territory regarding my capacity to fall in love and to share the life of a couple with another person without taking into consideration questions of gender.”

— Aida, “Why Bi?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“I’m sure I’m bisexual because I can’t ignore the allure and loveliness of a wide spectrum of people — differentiating by gender never seemed attractive or even logical to me. […] For me bisexuality means I don’t stop attraction, caring or relationship potential based on gender; I can have sex, flirtation or warm ongoing love with anyone (not everyone, okay? That part’s a myth). […] And we have enough trouble splitting the human race into two halves, assigning mandatory characteristics, and then torturing people to fill arbitrary roles — I consider that a wrong and inaccurate way to understand human potential, and that’s also why I’m bi. Men and women are different? Honey, everyone I’ve ever met has been different. I think being bisexual lets me see each person as an individual.”

— Carol Queen, “Why Bi?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“But to hell with respectability: the real point about being bisexual, a friend pointed out, is that you’re asking someone other than ‘What sex is this person?’”

— Tom Robinson, “Bisexual Community,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“Being bisexual… allows us to love each other regardless of our gender…”

— Jorge Pérez Castiñeira, “Bisexual Community,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“‘Hello, my name is Jaqueline Applebee… if you want to see me later, or just want a kiss, let me know as I’m bisexual, and you’re all gorgeous!’ […] I have loved men, women, and those who don’t identify with any gender.”

— Jaqueline Applebee, “Bisexual Community,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“[T]here’s nothing binary about bisexuals. Bi is just a provisional term reminding us, however awkwardly, that when it comes to loving, family and tribe, margins and middle intertwine.”

— Loraine Hutchins, “Bisexual Politics,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“My bi identity is not about who I am having sex with; it is not about the genitals of my past, current, or future lovers; it is not about choosing potential partners or excluding partners based on what is between their legs. It is about potential — the potential to love, to be attracted to, to be intimate with, share a life with a person because of who they are. I see a person, not a gender… I demand to be free to legally marry anyone without regard to their gender.”

— Rifka Reichler, “Bisexual Politics,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“To me, being bisexual means having a sexuality that isn’t limited by the sex or gender of the people you are attracted to. You just recognize that you can be attracted to a person for very individual reasons.”

— Deb Morley, “Bi of the Month: An Interview with Ellyn Ruthstorm,” Bi Women (2010)

“Q: Which gender person does a bisexual love? A: Any gender she wants.”

— Marcia Deihl, “Do Clothes Make the Woman?”, Bi Women (2010)

“While the bisexual manifesto being written following a workshop at London BiCon is still being worked on, the tweeters set to work on a shorter, snappier alternative… ‘Love is about what’s in your hearts, not your underwear.’ […] ‘We aren’t more confused, greedy, indecisive or lustful than anyone else. We like people based on personality not gender.’ ‘[W]e believe that lust is more important than anatomy.’ ‘What you have between your legs doesn’t matter. What you have between your ears does[.]’”

— Jen Yockney, “#bisexualmanifesto,” Bi Community News (2010)

“As briefly mentioned above and interlinked with the notion of ‘importance of individuality’, the binary concepts of gender and the stereotypes surrounding these is a notion which each of the [bisexual] women interviewed fundamentally reject. The participants here were keen to distance themselves and their experiences of romantic relationships from any notion of hetero-normative gender boundaries, although they did agree that unfortunately these gender boundaries still exist in contemporary society. Most participants do not link gender boundaries with concepts of romantic love; it was stated that although sometimes gender boundaries can be seen in romantic relationships this is primarily down to socialisation and the unnecessary importance that hetero-normative society places on gender roles. Therefore, gender boundaries seen in romantic relationships are not constrained by gender but instead are a product of gendered socialisation. For these women, claiming their bisexual identity and their romantic relationships illustrates the futility of binary concepts of gender as it is about individual preference or style rather than gendered norms values and expectations.”

— Emma Smith, “Bisexuality, Gender & Romantic Relationships,” Bi Community News (2012)

“And anyway, I’m generally not sexually attracted to men or women. I’m into all sorts of things, but a person being a man or a woman isn’t a turn-on. Certainly not in the same way it’s a turn off to a gay or straight person. I’m never going to think “Wow, Zie is really sexy, shame they’re a ____” because what turns me off isn’t gender.”

— Marcus, “What makes a bisexual?”, Bi Community News (2012)

“I am bisexual. That does not depend on my dating experience or my attraction specifications. It is not affected by my dislike for genitals (of any shape). All it describes is how gender affects attraction for me: it doesn’t. I am attracted to people regardless of gender, and I am bisexual.”

— Emma Jones, “Not Like the Others,” Bi Women (2013)

“I’m generally okay with ‘attraction to more than one gender’ [as a definition of ‘bisexuality’]. I think that the ‘more than’ part is important because there are definitely more than two genders. Some people like the definition ‘attraction regardless of gender’ and I like that too because it suggests that things other than gender can be equally, or more, important in who we are attracted to. I like to question why our idea of sexuality is so bound up with gender of partners. Why not encompass other aspects such as the roles we like to take sexually, or how active or passive we like to be, or what practices we enjoy? Why is our gender, and the gender of our partners, seen as such a vital part of who we are?”

— Robyn Ochs, “Around the World: Meg Barker,” Bi Women (2013)

“It may sound crazy but I’d never thought that carefully about the ‘bi’ part of the word meaning ‘two’. I’d always understood bisexuality to mean what Bobbie Petford reports as the preferred definition from within the UK bi communities: changeable ‘sexual and emotional attraction to people of any sex, where gender may not be a defining factor’. […] Participants in the BiCon discussion rejected the ‘you are a boy or you are a girl…binary’ (Lanei), all arguing that they were not straightforwardly ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’.

[…] Because they discarded the dichotomous understanding of gender, participants rejected the ideas that they were attracted to ‘both’ men and women, arguing that they did not perceive gender as the defining feature in their attraction. Kim said: I don’t think actually gender is that relevant…gender is like eye colour, and I notice it sometimes, and sometimes it can be a bit of a feature it’s like “oo, that’s nice” and I have some sorts of gender types, but it’s about as important as something like eye colour.

[…] As I came to realise that you can actually be bisexual…your desires and your attractions can wax and wane as time goes on, I realised that there was a parallel to gender: you don’t have to clearly define, you don’t have to cast off the male to be female and vice versa. Despite the fact that the conventional definition of the word ‘bisexual’ could be seen as perpetuating a dichotomous concept of gender, being attracted to both sexes, Georgina concluded that it could challenge conventional understandings of gender…”

— “Bisexuality & Gender,” Bi Community News (2014)

“My fellow bisexuals… I stand before you as an unapologetic, outspoken, bisexual activist who has intimately loved women, men and transgender persons throughout my life span of 72 years…”

— ABilly S. Jones-Hennin, “If Loving You is Wrong, Then I Don’t Want to be Right,” Bisexual Organizing Project (2014)

“Coming out as bisexual in the late 80s, when I first came across the label pansexual it didn’t involve any kind of gender nuance: it was how someone explained their bisexuality feeling interwoven with their Pagan beliefs. Back then the ‘bi’ in bisexual didn’t get talked about as having some great limiting weight of ‘two’, it was an “and” in a world that saw things as strictly either/or. As I was pushing at boundaries of discussion around gender and sexuality with people in the 90s I’d sometimes quip that I was ‘bisexual, I just haven’t decided which two genders yet’. When I started to come across people saying that bi was limiting because it meant two, a bit of me did think: oh lord, were they taking me seriously?”

— Jen, “Bi or Pan?”, Bi Community News (2015)

“Pansexuality is sometimes defined as attraction to people of all genders, which is also the experience of many bisexual people. More often than not, however, people define their pansexuality in relation to bisexuality. In response to the question: ‘What does pansexual mean?’ I’ve seen countless people reply: ‘I’m attracted to people of more than two genders. Not bisexual.’ The implication is that bisexual means binary attraction: men and women only.

Since I came out in the late 90s, I haven’t seen one bi activist organisation define bisexuality as attraction solely to men and women. Bi and trans* issues began to grow in recognition at the same time. When I use ‘bi’ to refer to two types of attraction, I mean attraction to people of my gender and attraction to people of other genders. […] …it’s so upsetting to see internalised biphobia leading many pansexuals, many of whom until recently identified as bisexual, telling us we’re still not queer enough. Gay and straight people aren’t being pressurised into giving up the language they use to describe their attractions and neither should they be. As usual it’s only bisexuals being shamed into erasing our identities and our history.

The most frustrating thing to me about the current bi vs pan discourse is that it’s framed as a cisgender vs genderqueer debate. This has never been the case. In reality, many genderqueer people identify as bisexual… To say bisexuality is binary erases the identities of these revolutionary bisexual genderqueer activists, and it erases the identity of every marginalised genderqueer bisexual they’re fighting for.”

— Sali, “Bi or Pan?”, Bi Community News (2015)

“Currently some pansexual people argue that bi is ‘too binary’ and that bisexuals are focused on conventional male/female gender expressions only. This is then taken to mean that bisexuals are more transphobic, whereas pansexuals aren’t locked into a binary so they are open to all gender expressions. However we believe this is not the case since bisexuals: ‘… do not comply with our society’s imposed framework of attraction, we must consciously construct our own framework and examine how and why we are attracted (or not) to others. This process automatically acknowledges the artificiality of the gender binary and gendered norms and expectations for behavior. Indeed, the mere act of explaining our definition of bisexual to a nonbisexual person requires us to address the falsity of the gender binary head on.’

We do not deny that in actuality some bisexuals are too bound by traditional binary gender assumptions, just as many gay, lesbian, and heterosexual, and some trans people are too. Bisexuals, however, have been in the forefront of exploring desire and connection beyond sex and gender. When anyone accuses bisexuals, uniquely, as more binary and more transphobic than other identity groups, such targeting is not only inappropriate but is also rooted in biphobia — a fear and hatred of bi people for who we are and how we love.

Confusing the issue are the definitions in resource glossaries defining bisexual, most surprisingly in newly released books including textbooks. [...] These definitions arbitrarily define bisexual in a binary way and then present pansexual as a non-binary alternative. This opens the doorway to a judgment that pansexual identity is superior to bisexual identity because it ‘opens possibilities’ and is a ‘more fluid and much broader form of sexual orientation’. This judgmental conclusion is unacceptable and dangerous as it lends itself to perpetuating bisexual erasure. The actual lived non-binary history of the bisexual community and movement and the inclusive nature and community spirit of bisexuals are eradicated when a binary interpretation of our name for ourselves is arbitrarily assumed.”

— Lani Ka’ahumanu and Loraine Hutchins, “Bi Organizing Since 1991,” Bi Any Other Name (New 25th Anniversary Edition) (2015)

“Herself a bisexual woman, [Nan Goldin] found that drag queens, to her a third gender, were perfect companions. By transgressing the bounds of the binary, they had created identities that were infinitely more meaningful.”

— Alicia Diane Ridout, “Gender Euphoria: Photography, Fashion, and Gender Nonconformity in The East Village” (2015)

“It is the job of those of us with links to children to continue to promote the language of bisexuality and validity of attraction to all genders — especially when that attraction changes over time.”

— Bethan, “Practical Bi Awareness: Teaching and LGBT,” Bi Community News (2016)

“The persistent use of the Kinsey Scale is another issue. Originally asking about the genders of people you have had sex with, more recently it gets deployed in more sophisticated ways which distinguish between sexual attraction, romantic attraction, and sexual activity. Nonetheless it is woefully inadequate in accounting for attraction to genders other than male and female — a key part of many bisexual people’s experience.”

— Milena Popova, “Scrap the Kinsey Scale!”, Bi Community News (2016)

“Robyn Ochs states where the EuroBiCon also stands for: bisexuality goes beyond the binary gender thinking. There are more genders than the obsolete idea of two: male and female.”

— Erwin, “Robyn Ochs: ‘Bisexuality goes beyond the binary gender thinking’,” European Bisexual Conference (2016)

“I call myself bisexual because it includes attraction to all genders (same as mine; different from mine).”

— Rev. Francesca Bongiorno Fortunato, “Label Me With a B,” Bi Women Quarterly (2016)

“Loving a person rather than a man or a woman: this is Runa Wehrli’s philosophy. At 18, she defines herself as bisexual and speaks about it openly. […] She believes that love should not be confined by the barriers put up by society. ‘I fall in love with a person and not a gender,’ she says. […] Now single and just out of high school, she is leaving the door open to love, while still refusing to give it a gender.”

— Katy Romy, “‘I fall in love with a person and not a gender’,” Swissinfo (2017)

“I’m bisexual so I can’t really come out as gay. When I’m gay I’m very gay. And when I’m with men then, you know, I’m with men. I don’t fall in love with people because of their gender.”

— Nan Goldin for Sleek Magazine (2017)

“I use the word bisexual — a lot / I’ve marched in the Pride parade with the Toronto Bisexual Network / I post Bi pride & Bi awareness articles all over social media / I’m seeking out dates of any and all genders / (not to prove anything to anyone, but simply because I want to)

— D’Arcy L. J. White, “Coming Out as Bisexual,” Bi Women Quarterly (2017)

“BISEXUAL — Someone who is attracted to more than one gender, someone who is attracted to two or more genders, someone who is attracted to the same and other genders, or someone who is attracted to people regardless of their gender. […] Other words with the same definition of bisexual, though they have different connotations, are ‘pansexual,’ ‘polysexual,’ and ‘omnisexual.’”

— Morgan Lev Edward Holleb, The A-Z of Gender and Sexuality: From Ace to Ze (2018)

“In the heat of July [2009], and finally equipped with a word for “attracted to people regardless of gender”, I bounded out of Brighton station with that same best friend. At the time, I didn’t know that we bisexuals have our own flag…”

— Lois Shearing, “Why London Pride’s first bi pride float was so important,” The Queerness (2018)

“Being bisexual does not assume people are only attracted to just two genders. Bisexuality can be limitless for many and pay no regard to the sex or gender of a person.”

— “The Bi+ Manifesto” (2018)

“I realized I was bisexual at age fifteen, but although I am attracted to folks of any gender, I’ve always had a preference for men.”

— Mark Mulligan, “Fight and Flight: ‘Butch Flight,’ Trans Men, and the Elusive Question of Authenticity,” Nursing Clio (2018)

“Bisexuality just became, to me, about that openness — that openness to anything, and any potential to any type of relationship, regardless of gender. Gender is no longer a disqualifier for me. It’s about the person.”

— Rob Cohen, “Where Are All the Bi Guys?,” Two Bi Guys (2019)

“Oh no, Mom. I’m not a lesbian. Actually, I’m bisexual. That means that gender doesn’t determine whom I’m attracted to.”

— Annie Bliss, “Older and Younger,” Bi Women Quarterly (2019)

“A bisexual woman, for example, may have sex with, date or marry another woman, a man or someone who is non-binary. […] If you think you might be bisexual, try asking yourself these questions: …Can I picture myself dating, having sex with, or being married to any gender/sex?”

— “I Think I Might Be Bisexual,” Advocates for Youth

“Although it’s true that people have all kinds of different attractions to different kinds of people, assuming that all bisexuals are never attracted to trans or genderqueer folk is harmful, not only to bi individuals, but to trans and genderqueer individuals who choose to label themselves as bi.”

— “Labels,” Bisexual Resource Center

“My own understanding of bisexuality has changed dramatically over the years. I used to define bisexuality as ‘the potential to be attracted to people regardless of their gender.’ […] Alberto is attracted to the poles, to super-masculine guys and super-feminine girls. Others are attracted to masculinity and/or femininity, regardless of a person’s sex. Some of us who identify as bisexual are in fact ‘gender-blind.’ For others — in fact for me — it’s androgyny or the blending of genders that compels.”

— Robin Ochs, “What Does It Mean to Be Bi+?”, Bisexual Resource Center

“… bisexual people are those for whom gender is not the first criteria in determining attraction.”

— Illinois Department of Public Health, “Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Youth Suicide”

“Bisexuality is sexual/romantic attraction to people regardless of sex or gender.”

— “Bisexual FAQ,” Kvartir

“Please also note that attraction to both same and different means attraction to all. Bisexuality is inherently inclusive of everyone, regardless of sex or gender.

In everyday language, depending on the speaker’s culture, background, and politics, that translates into a variety of everyday definitions such as:

Attraction to men and women

Attraction to all sexes or genders

Attraction to same and other genders

Love beyond gender

Attraction regardless of sex or gender”

— American Institute of Bisexuality, “What Is Bisexuality?,” Bi.org

“This idea [that bisexuality reinforces a false gender binary] has its roots in the anti-science, anti-Enlightenment philosophy that has ironically found a home within many Queer Studies departments at universities across the Anglophone world. […] Bisexuality is an orientation for which sex and gender are not a boundary to attraction… Over time, our society’s concept of human sex and gender may well change. For bis, people for whom sex/gender is already not a boundary, any such change would have little effect.”

— American Institute of Bisexuality, “Questions,” Bi.org

Gender-expansive (or -fluid, or -blind) descriptions of bisexuality are nothing new — and with the exception of the Getting Bi quotes, the above compilation is just what I was able to find online. Arguably, the concept of excluding genders never even crossed the mind of many twentieth-century bisexuals — not just because “nonbinary genders hadn’t entered the mainstream” — but simply because many bisexuals understand bisexuality itself as “beyond” gender. Go to any bisexual organization and they’ll tell you bisexuality is broad and can include anyone.

Of course, the above quotes do not reflect the beliefs of every bisexual — no single quote can do that. These quotes were certainly not the only variation of bisexual-given definitions of bisexuality. I’m only pointing out that the “both” descriptions are similarly not the only ones that exist.

Even then, before wider knowledge of and language for nonbinary identities, attraction to “both” men and women was attraction regardless of gender. “Both” does not purposefully keep anyone out; it only (mistakenly) assumes how many groups there are. Gender not being a make-or-break, or not caring about gender in general, doesn’t depend on how many genders there are.⁶

Not to mention, all sexualities automatically include some nonbinary people — “nonbinary” isn’t merely a third gender. The mere notion that someone could just “not be attracted” to nonbinary people as a group completely misunderstands nonbinary identity.

Some bisexuals “see a person, not a gender,” while others, like me, see a person with a gender (that doesn’t stop us from finding them attractive), if they have one. Being bisexual has made me see people in more gender-neutral ways. Our experiences are far too vast to pin down, and there’s immense beauty in that vagueness.

Also, while bisexual activism and transgender activism have frequently overlapped, plenty of cisgender bisexuals are transphobic. But this is because all sexualities have transphobes. Even if we coined a sexual identity that only transgender people could use, some identifying with it would still likely be transphobes. Why allow transphobic bisexuals to erase the attitudes of all the bisexuals before and after them?

I find it incredibly odd that people now task bisexuals with proving our inclusivity considering that, for decades, we never had to. We had always (i.e., consistently throughout history, not as in every bisexual) been warping gender norms, but it was never to debunk a myth or make ourselves look good; it was just how we were. That hasn’t changed.

One of the predominant stereotypes is still that we’re indiscriminate sluts willing to sleep with anyone, but somehow there’s a new wave of folks insisting that we require our partners to obey the gender binary. I have a severely hard time believing this conclusion is based on reality. Almost all attempts to redefine bisexuality as binary come from people who don’t identify as such.

Imagine if we performed this revisionism with the word “gay.” For this example, I’ll use “gay” to describe gay men in particular.

“Gay” only means exclusive attraction to men, so the people who use that word only like cisgender men. I’m androsexual, which means I like cisgender, transgender, and nonbinary men.

Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? So why do we only apply this rhetoric to bisexuals? (It couldn’t possibly be because of biphobia, could it?)

While it’s obviously unrealistic to say that no bisexual person has ever been transphobic, bisexual orientation is not, and never has been, about exclusion. Considering that bisexual activists were seldom (if ever) focused on the prefix in the word “bisexual,” this recent fixation people have on trying to find a way to use “two” in its definition is misguided.

Begging to differ is ignorant and arrogant, contradicting not only history but many current bisexuals who understand bisexuality as all-encompassing. Acting like it’s uniquely binary or inherently limited in any way is indisputably false and biphobic. Please stop speaking over us and erasing our history. It, like the bisexual community itself, is bountiful, beautiful, and never going away.

Here’s one final quote that, while a bit unrelated to the rest, I particularly enjoy:

“I understand bisexuality not as a mixture of homosexuality and heterosexuality as Kinsey did, nor as a particular sexuality on an equal footing with homosexuality and heterosexuality, but as a holistic view of human sexuality, in which all aspects related to human sexuality are taken into account.”

— Miguel Obradors-Campos, “Deconstructing Biphobia” (2011)

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sephirothisaslut · 4 years

Text

Time Travel WIP

Cloud woke up in a tank. Surrounded by an all too familiar green. He doesn’t try to fight. He gave up long ago. He’s been here for years now. And the only comfort he has are the three child Remnants he was occasionally allowed to interact with.

When Cloud traveled back in time, the very first thing he did was kill Hojo. Because even if Jenova still existed, it was Hojo who triggered Sephiroth’s decline to madness. (it also helped that he first awoke in Aerith’s church. Much closer to Hojo than Jenova).

He spared Sephiroth. When he first saw him, Cloud froze. He looked so young. Too young to be leading an army. Too young to be a SOLDIER. His mind flashed to Denzel and Marlene. Gaia, they’re nearly his age. So he resolved to save him. Save him from being the murderer he used to will never be.

However, things aren’t as easy as it seems.

The planet wont heal from a single lost life.

Hojo was in a very high position of power. A very coveted position of power. Originally, it was Hollander that was slated to replace him. However, many of Hojo’s assistants have also fought for their right. This started a scientific war between different factions. All vying for the right to be crowned Department Head.

Undeniably, Hollander had the upper hand. But it was one of Hojo’s assistants that rediscovered the secret SOLDIER formula. Allowing them to gain better footing to one day snatch the position on the Board of Directors.

This all happened unbeknownst to Cloud.

The height of the Wutai war was at it’s peak. This caused the urgency for a Department Head to be selected even more large.

Cloud, on the other hand, traveled to Nibelheim to finally destroy the Calamity. (He discovered that the Cloud in this time didn’t exist. After all, how can a single soul exist at the same time. Apparently, the younger Cloud had died falling of the bridge) And he did. Throwing it into a vat of mako in the reactor. But to his surprise, the underground lab had still been occupied. So when he broke in, he had no choice but to fight his way through. Unfortunately, he never made it out.

He found three babies fitted into tanks. Mako being fed into their bodies by a tube. Seeing the Remnants this way broke Cloud. He had previously thought of them as mere manifestations. Born from memories. Created as adults. He had never once thought of them as human. That they had once been children. Like him. Like Sephiroth.

And so, Cloud was captured. Sedated with the drugs they used on Sephiroth. Stuffed unto a steel table. Cut open. Dissected. Used in the same he remembered.

Somehow, the scientists thought that he was one of Hojo’s escaped experiments. In a sense, this was true. However, how else are you going to explain the abundance of mutated S and J cells in him?

So once more, he was called a specimen. This time, though, he was called Specimen J2 instead of C.

At first, this confused Cloud. But as time went by. As the frequency of tests grew. As he spent more time in this horrid nightmare. He finally understood.

He was J2. Jenova 2.0.

Without Jenova, SOLDIER enhancements cant be achieved. And without the Calamity’s cells, new SOLDIERS cant be made. And as the war waged on, they needed SOLDIERS more than ever.

Cloud hadn’t known his J cells had mutated. However it seemed like they did. Producing “better quality cells” as the lab coats said.

And so this is how one of Hojo’s former assistants hopped to win.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Cloud woke up in a groggy state. He didn’t know how long he’s been here. He knew it’s been years. But he didn’t know exactly how many. His hair had grown long, nearly reaching his lower back. An indication of the time he’s spent in this hell.

He had once tried to reach Vincent, but it proved too difficult.

It seemed like the staff had dumped him into the observation room once more. Probably to test the Reunion Theory in whatever convoluted way.

The door hissed open, and three children were thrown into the room. Kadaj his the floor with a grunt, while Loz and Yazoo seemed to have passed out.

“You have an hour” one of the guards spat.

Cloud nearly tripped as he ran to them. “Kadaj, what happened”

Kadaj only whimpered as Cloud arranged Loz and Yazoo in a more comfortable position.

“It’s combat day” Kadaj quietly answered.

“That’s today?” Cloud cursed. He must have been in the tanks for a week then. Combat day is a weekly test that involves fighting mutated specimens. All four of them tested to the point of destruction. All of them slowly being toughened to one day be presented to the President as ‘Sephiroths’. All so they can win that stupid position Hojo left.

And the last time Cloud had been awake, it was combat day.

“Hnn, Cloud?” Yazoo stirred from his unconscious state.

“Shh, I’ve got you” Cloud gently said. He had grown to like the triplets. At first, it freaked him out when they had called him Mother. But he soon talked them into calling him Cloud. However, from time to time, often when they’re in pain or distress, they’d call for their Mother.

Of course, the reason they’d called him Mother was because he was basically their Jenova (sans the mind control power). When he had asked about calling him Father instead, they merely shook their heads and said “But Sephiroth is our Father. The doctors said so.”

Loz’s coughing spurred Cloud back to the present.

“*cough* Mother? It...It h-hurts” Loz crumpled into a ball.

“Shit, didn’t they heal you” Cloud cursed again. He cradled Loz, and moved him unto one of the raised platforms in the room. He gestured for Kadaj to coax Yazoo closer.

“H-he...He blocked me from the Zolom.” Yazoo wheezed, clinging tightly to Cloud’s lab gown. “and they...T-they hit me because of it”

Cloud clicked his tongue. Trust the Doctors to classify protection as weakness.

“Cloud?” Kadaj asked from Cloud’s other side. “Will he be alright?”

Cloud gazed down at the children. He wanted to tell it’ll be ok, He wanted to utter those words so much, it broke his heart. But he can’t. He can’t promise something so unattainable.

“I...I don’t know” Cloud whispered instead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Genesis had called Sephiroth earlier about a possible lab in the Nibel region.

After the Wutai war, Genesis had been degrading. And with Hollander kept occupied by the ensuing bid for Directorship, he was simply “too busy to deal with Genesis’ childish wiles”

Ans so, it was up to the elite four (including Zack) to help scour for a cure. Thankfully, Sephiroth had no love for Hojo’s men, so he frequently targeted their labs under the excuse of inspection.

So when Genesis had informed him of a lab under a ShinRa mansion in Nibelheim, he immediately took a detour from his route home. He instructed his men to continue toward Midgar, and that Zack and he has been assigned another mission.

When they arrived, the townsfolk had been hospitable but confused. After all, the local monster population was controlled. And they haven’t sent an S.O.S to ShinRa. Too ease their curiosity, Zack just told them it was an inspection on the ShinRa mansion, and that they needn't pay a thing.

Their trek to the mansion was chaotic. Mutated monsters everywhere. Large Nibel Dragons intercepted them as they went higher up the mountains. Black, oozing monsters often attacked from atop the trees. And vaguely looking humanoids screeched at them, alerting nearby mosters.

“Whew! It’s a good thing we got here Seph. These things could’ve killed the townsfolk!” Zack whipped his brow.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. “These must be coming from the lab. Although, I don’t think they’re supposed to release their Specimens into the wild.”

“A break out?”

“Possibly”

They continued, and finally reached the mansion. The townsfolk had told them it was abandoned. However, it looked like people lived here. Or used too.

The monsters seem to have come from here. The gaping hole in the floor basically told them everything.

Zack and Sephiroth drew their swords as they descended into the depths of thr lab. Ready to fight and defend at a moment’s notice. It was silent. Only their breathing and footsteps audible. That was until they heard the sound of a fight. However, the grunts they heard are most definitely human.

“Shit! Could it be one of Hojo’s men?” Zack sprinted to the source of the sound, Sephiroth beside him.

Sephiroth was inclined to agree. That was before he heard the sounds of children screaming.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kadaj! Stay where you are!” Cloud yelled as he took a piece of metal to brandish as a weapon.

It has been luck. A slip of fate. One of the cages where more violent Specimens are kept broke. It allowed them escape. It gave then the chance they needed to finally break free from their rooms. It was pure chance that it happened while Cloud was out of the tanks.

A chance Cloud was unwilling not to take.

But he wanted all of them out. He wanted them all to be free. And he won’t be leaving without all of them.

Loz was still passed out from earlier testing. And Yazoo was trying his best to protect him from stray attacks. Kadaj, on the other hand, was corned between a wall and one of the creatures. Cloud was in no better position. He was injured, quickly losing blood to a gash on the side of his abdomen and right arm.

“Damn!” Cloud bit back a wince as he blocked a strike from the massive cat like thing. Black tar oozing from it’s skin like Geostigma. It’s tail is it’s main weapon, slashing and whipping everywhere.

“Kadaj, I’m coming!” Cloud shouted. But to his horror, Kadaj had been hit.

Kadaj’s scream momentarily distracted the creature, allowing Cloud to impale it’s shoulder.

“Kadaj!” Cloud reached out to the child. He thows his body over him, shielding him from the strike.

...But it doesn’t reach them.

Instead, he looks up and sees his once enemy standing above him. Masamune raised. But not toward him. Protecting him.

“Sephiroth?” Was all Cloud could utter as he lost consciousness.

#sefikura #Sephiroth #sephiroth x cloud #cloud #cloud strife #ff7 #ff7 remake #time travel #remnants #kadaj #loz #yazoo #the remnants #zack #fanfic #wip #my post

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daywing-moved · 4 years

Text

Birds of a Shadow

Rating: G

Summary: Elain comforts Azriel after Mor confesses to Azriel.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a poem, which then turned into prose, and then transformed into a semi-Elriel fic.

All characters belong to Sarah J Maas!

fic tag list: @thesirenwashere @justgiu12 @b00kworm @acourtofmarauders @empress-ofbloodshed @maastrash @savemesoon8 @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @yourtypicalbookworn @ryhsrocks @captainthefangirlofhp @iammissstark

Let me know if you want to be tagged for my fics here! Or if you would like to be removed from the tag list, just let me know.

Fic Masterlist

There is a shadow hunched over the fireplace.

His head is bowed, his wings drooped, blanketing the floor in a mass of tragic power. Darkness surrounds his presence, as it always does, but this time, it’s different. The shadows lash and flick, like a violent, rolling storm contained in a glass bottle. The black night outside draws to him like a comforting blanket, but is pushed away. Instead, rain falls outside, a silent, drizzling downpour.

The embers of the flames flicker in his hazel eyes, the only light in those swirling, sullen eyes.

A warrior in defeat, tired of fighting all his life for something he could never conquer.

A fallen angel.

Elain watches him from the doorway. She, perhaps, is the only other light in the room aside from the crackling fire. And she watches, silently, as his long lashes close, his jaw hardening. Shoulders tense, figure clad in black.

The seer sees, and she does not see a vanquished fighter. She sees past the darkness and the shadows and the cold, cold night, to the bird finally ready to take flight inside. The bird that had been caged, as if its beauty could be cherished for longer behind age-old bars, was finally free.

Elain takes a step into the room. The shadows drift away from her. He does not want to taint her with the presence of brokenness, but she has been broken before. Had been broken by an iron ring that would not break, even as she tore herself apart for months. Would not leave, until she pieced herself together and tended to the tangled thorns of her heart.

She was not afraid to let a bird out of its cage.

Elain approaches him softly, a hand resting on the mantle of the fireplace. His eyes turn to her, and they are filled with bitterness and hopelessness. Tragically beautiful. He attempts to raise his wings, to put that mask back on for her, but she shakes her head.

“You do not have to hide yourself from me,” she whispers gently, staring into his eyes. Moments of silence pass before he acknowledges her presence.

“It is not your responsibility to heal me.” He stares into the fire, shadows barely contained.

“I will not heal you.” Elain lifts her chin, daring him to raise his gaze to her again. “You need to find that light yourself.”

His shoulders sag. “She was supposed to be my light,” he murmured, running a hand over his face and sighing.

Elain shakes her head, replying, “You know her light was not yours to match.”

For five hundred years, he had loved the red-clad, blonde-haired female. Half a millennium of longing gazes, a lifetime of hope slaughtered. Winked out like the last of a flame.

Elain does not think that the legendary Shadowsinger had not known it would turn out this way. Perhaps his shadows did not pry where he did not want them to, but she has an inkling that they would at least know that Morrigan was never destined to find peace in a male.

She watches his chest rise and fall with every heave of a breath. “She loves you.”

His head snaps up, his eyes flashing. “Even if she did, I would not deserve it.”

Elain takes in that guilty look of his and does not falter. “Her love is of a different kind, Azriel. She may not take your heart, but she loves you as family loves each other. It is that warm, joyful love of hers.”

He looks out the window on the other side of the room, at the rainy, cloudy midnight sky. “I know. I knew.”

Elain watches that bitter smile on his resigned face. “Then why do you mourn like such?”

A flicker of pain. His shadows slash against the floor. “Because I thought loving her would be safe. I’d be able to love her and never hurt her, because she would not want me back. I knew how to feel and how to fight that battle. It was so easy because I knew that I could not win that war.” His breathing catches in sync with the stuttering of Elain’s heart. She knows he does not want her pity, so she does not give it. But this tears open old wounds of hers. Ones that she will gladly rip open to guide her friend back to the light.

Or, maybe, she did not have to guide him. He was already there, but could not see it. Had been there for some time, but was clouded by his own self-doubt.

He shakes his head, muttering, “I’m sorry, Elain, you shouldn’t have to-”

“Do not. Apologize,” she interrupted, emphasizing every word. “You do not apologize for setting the bird free.”

He finally pushes off the mantle, running a hand through his ruffled hair, and repeats, “Setting the bird free?”

“You knew Mor would say it one day. That the bird would be able to fly one day. But you kept the bird caged, like you could be startled by its beauty one more time. She is not yours to trap or to admire like such. Let the bird fly. The bird no longer wants to be trapped.”

Azriel stumbles backwards, eyes panicked. “I trapped her. Like some creature of the sky trapped underground. Cauldron, I’m just like my father-”

Elain whips her head to him. “But the bird learned in that cage, Az. Your father locked you under and forced you into the reality of those dark walls. But from you, Mor found so much more. You saved her from Autumn. If not for you…” she shakes her head. “You may have your flaws, as all people do. But stop fearing those flaws, as you stopped fearing the darkness.”

She takes a breath. The words pouring out of her—they were like talking to her past self, words that no one had ever told her until she started telling them to herself, like the little parts of a puzzle all fitting together.

“You had begged for a cure for that darkness, and took it as soon as you thought it had appeared. As soon as she had appeared. But you are a Shadowsinger. You do not need someone else to push and pull at the darkness. You control your own shadows, and they are not some poisoned part of you. Every rose has its thorns, and those thorns make them strong.”

His mouth opens and closes. “I want to say that I was blind,” he breathes. “I want to say that I never knew about her preferences or her life or any of it. I wish I hadn’t been a shadow over her life.”

“Not being blind only shows you knew her,” Elain counters. Her honey eyes are warm but defiant. “And it is an honor to know someone as bright as Mor. You are not a shadow over her now, are you?”

He stays silent, watching her. She stares up at him with a round, understanding gaze, and he can’t help but admire how there is no pity or sympathy there—only a knowing look. He gives her a single shake of his head, even as a storm continues to brew in his eyes. A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Why? How?”

Elain stares down at her hand, at where an iron engagement ring used to be. A cage for her finger, suffocating it until it could no longer be free. A mark of possession rather than love, of cruelty rather than the promise of a better future. She had not realized it then, but she realizes it now. “There was no one who understood me the first months I came here,” she says, releasing a small sigh. “There was no one to tell me what to do or how to feel or why what I had thought was love had suddenly become betrayal and hatred and disgust.”

Azriel’s face shifts, as if realizing just how alone she had been.

“I saw birds,” she continues, the rain outside pouring harder. “I saw them and thought about how they flew in the rain. It must’ve been cold and dark for them, like how empty everything felt for me. But they sang nonetheless.”

Her eyes dare shutter for a moment. “And that was the only thing that kept me sane. How I could be a bird, trapped in a thunderstorm, but the storm would see an end. When you started talking to me, and showing me the gardens, your wings… it was like my bird could finally take flight again. I’d found a friend in you. I was just… I was just hoping I could do the same for you, even if the wings do not spread tonight.”

And the look on Az’s face is utter awe, awe at how someone could speak such beautiful words.

A defeated warrior can still hope, can still rebuild, he remembers. He remembers now. His wings lift slightly. “Thank you, Elain.”

She knows a wounded heart cannot be fixed overnight. Elain takes a step forward, not close enough for them to touch, but close enough to see the clear reflection of the fireplace in his hazel gaze, like a light burning anew. A new dawn.

She takes his scarred hands. “There are many battles to be fought,” she says.

He takes in the sight of her gentle hands in his rough ones.

“Those battles may last the entirety of an infinite night,” Elain whispers. She smiles at him, briefly. “They are not easy. You know this.”

She squeezes his hand before letting go and watching the rain halt outside, clearing way for the watery moon. “But what makes a night worth living through is the stars. My stars are already shining. And I will be there as your friend through every battle, as you were through mine, until the stars can shine for you, too.”

He nods, and her heart lifts, lifts, lifts to the stars like a winged bird soaring. Perhaps she is when he offers, “Would you like to fly tonight?”

She nods. She would not allow the Shadowsinger to drown in his sorrows again, and she knows he finds freedom and comfort in the night sky.

So, in the aftermath of the rain, they perch on the rooftops of Velaris. Wrapped in the smell of petrichor and chilled night mists, they reveal hidden wounds and stitch them back together.

And when Elain finally sees a peek of guilt fade from his gaze, a light where it may have looked dark before, the stars are shining gently above them, finally unhidden and twinkling.

#elriel #elriel fic #elriel fluff #elriel angst #acotar #sarah j maas #acofas

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writingbakery · 5 years

Text

“tapewebs”; a series 🕸

hanta sero is just your regular everyday japanese-american immigrant college student, living in the heart of brooklyn. when miles morales collapses on the windowsill of his shitty one bedroom apartment, life gets.... a hell of a lot more interesting 🕷

[a spiderman! sero au one shot series, featuring class 1-A, hanta sero, miles morales, an assortment of marvel villains, & you, dear reader - the object of one tapespider’s affections ✨]

[pairing; sero x gender neutral reader 🕸]

[warnings; fluff, violence, action, angst, romance, & a lot of tape/spider puns 🕸]

“Sticky Note Origins”

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

the city is prettier up high, sero realizes. granted, he wishes he’d come to that conclusion on solid ground, without his feet nervously planted on a skyscraper ledge, but still.

every whip of wind threatens to topple him over, send him careening down into a frenzied spiral of buildings and colors until he meets concrete at the bottom - and he’s supposed to willingly jump.

he wonders if he’ll pass out before his bones meet solid mass, cracking in so many different ways the coroner’ll have to play connect the fragments until he’s a person again.

behind him, an impatient cough sounds, bringing him back to the task at hand. fuck.

you’re probably wondering how he got here. let’s rewind a week.

one week earlier

at ten pm on a friday, the city is in its prime, bustling crowds of people laughing and stumbling through the brightly colorful streets. hanta’s just trying to protect his pad thai & dumplings, hugging the greasy paper bag to his chest as he weaves in and out of the chaos.

a day full of long classes & a quiet shift at the cafe-slash-bookstore halfway between campus and his crap one bedroom apartment leaves him exhausted, shoulders hunched as he makes his way home. nobody ever sees him regardless - the city’s too big for one lanky, always tired beanpole to be much notice.

despite living in brooklyn since he was four, he’s never felt a hundred percent comfortable here - he had an accent right up until he was thirteen, still trips over certain words and customs that don’t exist back home in japan. he’s awkwardly tall, not enough to be a phenomenon but towering over all his family. he just doesn’t quite fit anywhere - too smart and plain to be popular, too boring to be with the jokesters, too awkward for the nerds. he’s been a loner all his life, and while he doesn’t mind too much, he just wishes it was a little easier to belong.

a text rolls across his phone screen as he’s shuffling songs, skipping some j-pop rock song to settle on kendrick lamar as he smiles. you. he couldn’t lie and say he was completely alone, not when he had you in his life.

you were a year younger than him but twice as smart, skipping a year ahead and landing yourself in hanta’s high school freshman english class. the pair of you had just... clicked, from the very first moment he pointed to shakespeare’s likeness on the cover and mocked “what, you egg?!”

your laughter had left him on cloud nine the entire day, and he made it his personal mission to hear that beautiful little giggle at least once a day for the rest of his life.

a lovely friendship had bloomed from there, the two of you joined at the hip - if you were somewhere, hanta was bound to follow & vice versa.

you’d even gotten into the same college, albeit for drastically different majors - he was a biochem/engineering double major, while you were an english/history double major. you were opposite but similar in so many ways, and the way you both completed each other didnt go unnoticed by sero.

you were his puzzle piece, the bits of him he’d never been able to fill easily made whole by your presence.

he could never tell you, however; your friendship was too precious to risk, especially over his dumb, emotional heart.

sending a string of laughing emojis towards the meme you sent, he jogs up the seven flights of dimly lit stairs to his tiny, one bedroom apartment - living in the city wasn’t cheap, & while the elevator was always busted at least he had a doorman, and heat that worked on occasion.

stepping into his apartment, however, he can immediately sense something is wrong; the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a heavy silence coating the darkness. the air feels wrong, tipsy turvy like the whole place is holding its breath - like something’s on the verge of exploding, catapulting him into chaos and danger.

quietly stepping through the living room, he peeks into the kitchen and bathroom, holding his backpack out like a makeshift weapon - his $200 biology textbook finally going to good use. finding nothing in either dark room, he slowly advances towards his bedroom, carefully measuring every step. at first, the room seems perfectly normal - nothing’s been moved, and it’s just as empty as the rest of his apartment.

and then he sees the blood.

dotting his windowsill in bright, red streaks, the window itself pushed halfway open - but that’s not what stops him in his tracks, eyes so wide it hurts.

spiderman is leaning against his windowsill, covered in blood and panting heavily, one hand held up in an effort to stop hanta in his tracks.

“i need...... help,” he whispers, voice rough and low; hanta’s amazed he can still speak.

he opens his mouth to react, somehow, even steps forward to catch him before screaming like a ten year old girl at a morgue, panic setting in like cold water.

never a dull night in brooklyn.

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

once he’s made sure that spiderman - miles, as the young man bleeding all over his $12 walmart carpet supplies - isn’t going to die anytime soon, hanta’s quick to recover from his shock. bustling around his tiny kitchen to make cheap ramen and digging around in his closet to find his mini first aid kit, he’s in full fanboy mode - he’s got posters plastered wall to wall of miles morales on his bedroom walls, for gods sakes. not that he knew it was miles morales, but still.

miles morales is curled up in the fleece blanket hanta’s mom had sent him his second week at college, and he’s totally not freaking out.

he’d had to cancel his nightly facetime call with you, lying about a stomach bug - he hates keeping things from you, but this is just too big and messy and dangerous. he’ll tell you in due time, he promises himself, trying to ease the coil of guilt in his stomach.

“how did you end up on my windowsill, again?” hanta asks, gently pushing the bowl of noodles towards the injured man. he’s got his own pad thai long forgotten in the microwave, more focused on the superhero who’d gotten his ass whooped on his doorstep, so to speak.

“i told you. i’d been watching you for a while - you’re the most promising candidate i have.” miles’ voice is slick with humor, a sort of teasing confidence that’s clear even through the pain.

“which i’m still not understanding - candidate for what? blood services? biology questions? how to make $20 last two weeks??” he knows he’s being childish, too joking for the severity of the situation, but he can’t help it. the neighborhood’s - and his own - hero is sitting in front of him, eating shitty 33¢ ramen from the bodega around the corner, telling him he’s a prime candidate.

“to take the mantle.” all traces of laughter are gone now, miles leaning forward on the table to emphasize his words. “i’ve been doing this long enough to know when to quit. my body’s giving out on me - i got slammed into a wall last week and couldn’t shake the pain till yesterday. before, i’d be fine within an hour. the city needs someone new, young, willing to take the risks.”

hanta’s ears stopped listening the moment he heard quit. “me? are you fuckin’ joking?” he wheezes, coughing his way past the shock. “i get winded walking up to my apartment! an old lady beat me to the c train yesterday! a strong wind could kick my ass!”

miles is either willfully ignoring him or just can’t hear, plowing ahead with his explanation. “you’ve got the perfect build for webswinging, and you’ve got a good heart - you know when to do the right thing and when to step away. leave the rest up to me, and trust me - i know what i’m doing.”

hanta can’t believe his ears, pushing away from the table to pace around his kitchen in panic. “i don’t till you understand, you’ve got the wrong guy - there’s no way i could be spiderman!” his words are falling on deaf ears - miles is standing too, and he doesn’t seem to care about hanta’s impending panic.

“you’ve got to trust me on this, alright? meet me tomorrow, at this address - 12 pm sharp. the city needs you, hanta - hell, i need you. just have a little faith.”

hanta scoffs at that, throwing his hands in the air. “faith?! i met you an hour ago, bleeding all over my windowsill! that’s not exactly the most- hey! where the hell...” there’s nothing but a blanket, a hastily scrawled address, and an empty bowl where miles had sat, leaving hanta alone with his thoughts.

damnit.

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

hanta pushes through the crowds of people at eleven am the next morning, half asleep but wired enough to power the whole city - hell, the whole goddamned country. he’s running on no sleep, adrenaline, two redbulls & the guilt of lying to you again, his “stomach bug” keeping him from class. he’d told you he was going to visit his parents for the weekend to recover; your sweet messages in response only made him feel worse.

he’s tossed and turned over this decision a million times & yet, he’s still not sure where he stands - it’s so little information, so much responsibility in so little time. he’s still half convinced he’s being punked, if he’s honest.

and yet, somethings drawing him to the address miles had left him, something deep in his gut that tells him he needs to be there. clearly, miles had seen something he himself is woefully oblivious to, and it couldn’t hurt to find out more.

apple maps leads him to a tiny shed somewhere behind a deli & a nail salon, not too far from his apartment, and he’s completely confused. “stupid gps, probably got me lost,” he whines, leaning against the door of the shed to zoom in on his location.

the pigeons in the alley are the only ones to hear his panicked yelling as he phases right through it, tumbling all the way down a metal chute into the dark unknown.

at least, for ten seconds. he lands on a remarkably soft pad of foam, a glass panel separating him from a brightly lit, fancy looking room lined wall to wall with computers, parts and half made suits, spiderman suits. he doesn’t know where to look first.

a robotic, feminine voice brings him out of his shock, the glass panel lighting up with code and writing.

“please enter your name.” hanta is floored.

“uh.. hanta sero?” the voice trills lightly, before a red grid-like laser scans him head to toe. he’s proud to admit he only squealed in terror once.

“identity confirmed. welcome, hanta.” the panel slides away to allow him access, his careful steps alerting the rest of the room’s computers to light up at his arrival.

“you came. i knew i chose wisely.” miles comes into view slowly, limping heavily as he smiles. it’s almost familiar, like he & hanta have been friends for years; he finds it comforting.

“well, not everyday you get to be spiderman,” hanta jokes, fidgeting a little where he stands. “you gonna fit me for a suit or something?” miles just laughs, shaking his head.

“that comes later. first, we’ve got to get you bitten.”

bitten?

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

for the third time in 24 hours, hanta’s screaming like a man who’s just been told he has two days to live.

“you want me to let that thing bite me?! have you lost your mind?!”

miles sighs patiently, holding up the little glass vial to the light; inside, the spider races up and down the glass, an odd orange color to its patterning.

“it’s the only way. no offense, but i saw that lady beat you to the c train. she was like, 85.” hanta’s pouting now, crossing his arms.

“she had a cane and she was agile- hey hey! you keep that thing away from me, so help me god-“

“you’re being dramatic, it’s the size of a pea-“

“that’s a fat ass fuckin’ pea-“

“stay still-“

“i will not- ow! jesus fuck, that thing has tarantula jaws!”

miles carefully shepherds the spider back into the glass, chuckling a little. “it’ll take a moment to cause effect. the original spider was cross-bred with a more agile, lanky species - perfect for your body type. i’m hoping it’ll be most effective in your transition.”

“hoping?” hanta squeaks, staring at the red welt forming on his hand - his visions already starting to blur out, a throbbing pain traveling up his arm.

“well, it’s the first time i’m experimenting with this-“

“you used me as a guinea pig?!”

“it’s perfectly safe! my mentor-“ but hanta’s not listening anymore, the world swimming in front of his eyes before the ground rushes up rapidly to kiss his face.

god. damnit.

when he comes to, he’s wrapped in about half the blankets in brooklyn, a cold compress against his sweaty forehead. he’s burning up, and his elbows hurt for some reason - his skins gone all itchy, and he’d probably kick a pigeon for a glass of water.

sitting up alerts miles to his newly conscious state, the man quickly scanning his vitals with a smaller version of the glass panel hanta’d been fascinated with earlier. “thought you were gonna croak on me. how do you feel?”

“itchy. and my arms hurt.” hanta’s pushing off the blankets as he speaks, attempting to get comfortable - his body feels weird, like he’ll burst out of his skin at any second.

“alright, don’t panic. i need to see how it’s mutated your body. stay still.” miles’ fingers delicately press against his neck, shoulders, before jabbing at his ribs without warning. hanta’s arms shoot up on impulse, a trail of sticky, precise webbing escaping him from his...... elbows?!

“what the fuck, dude what the fuck look at my elbows, they’re all puffy and red i’m gonna die, and the coroner is gonna leak my story to the press and my moms gonna see me in the paper with fucked up elbows-“ hanta may or may not be panicking, poking at the tender, slightly swollen skin around the bends of his arms. miles just rolls his eyes, clearly amused by his antics.

“you’re not going to die. japanese tape spiders shoot webbing from the bends of their eight arms; its a thicker & stronger strain of web. clearly, your elbows are how your body has adjusted.”

“that doesn’t make it better.” hanta’s too busy staring at himself to notice the other changes at first, but slowly, they’re trickling in. heightened eyesight and hearing, an odd balance to his feet he hadn’t had a day ago, even itchier fingertips - making it easier for him to grip flat surfaces, or at least as miles says.

“come on. let’s get you a suit.”

───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────

a week’s worth of planning & adjusting has led him right here to this rooftop, suited feet firmly balanced on the ledge. he likes his suit, thinks it’s unique - he’d modeled it after the spider who’d blessed him with these powers, orange and black and white [miles sort of thinks it’s ugly, but who cares.] he’d been in & out of the fondly nicknamed “spider-lounge”, getting fitted for his suit & honing his new abilities; he’d also been avoiding you whenever possible.

he couldn’t suck you into this world, not when he was barely comfortable in it himself; he kept promising himself he’d come clean, but the guilt’s eating him alive with every sad look & evening alone you spend.

another impatient cough brings him back to the present, miles sitting in the middle of the roof & watching hanta’s nervous stalling. “you’re going to have to jump eventually, you know,” he calls, and it takes everything in him not to turn tail and run.

he has a duty, a responsibility now, and he doesn’t take that lightly. he thinks of you, sitting in your ratty little apartment off campus and remembers that your safety is all but in his hands now; he’s got to protect the city, for your sake at least.

“i absolutely will not hesitate to kick you off this rooftop,” miles threatens, but its empty - they both know hanta needs to do this himself.

one step back, then two, the nerves racing up his spine as he prepares himself to meet cold concrete [a dramatic thought, miles would catch him far before he reaches ground. a bad knee wouldn’t stop him from that.] he says a silent prayer to every god he’s ever heard of and closes his eyes, taking a step forward into the air-

and trips over the ledge, falling ass over heels into the air. nice.

the rushing wind only heightens his panic for a moment, before one arm snaps up to blindly shoot into the air; his spider sense kicks in from there, aiming without even realizing and latching onto a nearby ledge. he swings aimlessly for a moment before finding a new ledge, then a railing; slowly, he finds a rhythm.

he’s soaring through the city before he realizes, laughing at the sharp roar of the wind in his ears - he feels like he’s flying, weightless as a bird. the only thing he can think of is you, how much you’d love this.

one day, he’ll take you webswinging. one day.

for now, he relishes in the fact that he’s one step closer to being brooklyn’s - & new york’s - new spiderman, fresh faced & determined to bring peace to the city.

he’s going to do it for you, even if it kills him.

#bnha sero #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta #spiderman au #sero x y/n #sero x you #sero x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #boku no hero fanfic #evywrites #tapewebs #one shot series #tapewebs series

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lokewolf-father · 4 years

Text

So I Listened to the First Five Insane Clown Posse Albums...

And I really enjoyed myself! I tried this post already, but the Tumblr app is a piece of garbage and lost it somehow, so here goes again. To make a long story short, even though I didn't really enjoy the first two albums, Carnival of Carnage and The Ringmaster, I found a lot to enjoy about Insane Clown Posse, and can safely say I like them. Death metal guitar mixed with heavy bass, carnival sounds, and lyrics about necromantic clown sorcerers, killer toys, and cartoonish depictions of murder make their concept albums something that is both novel and undeniably cool when it isn't too crude or juvenile, which is more frequent than I would like.

I should probably state, especially considering I'm writing off the first two albums, that I am not the target audience for ICP. I do not consider myself a Juggalo in any definition of the word; I don't really listen to rap, and couldn't define hip-hop without looking it up. I do however enjoy horror movies and low-brow entertainment like comic books, and consider Marilyn Manson to be one of my personal heroes, so believe me when I say that I really do like aspects of the cavalcade of crazy that is the Insane Clown Posse.

Riddle Box is awesome, and I find myself wondering if this is the album where people feel like ICP came into their own. Part of their mythology is that if the Dark Carnival, where sinners are judged by a cavalcade of characters before being killed and sent to their souls ultimate destination. Several albums are designated as Joker's Cards, and depict characters and elements of the Carnival.

The intro is awesome, introducing the Riddle Box, which is a magic box that either gives the slain a vision of God, warming their souls and sending them to Heaven, or a demonic fog that drives them insane and sends them to Hell.

One of my favorite songs, "Chicken Huntin' (Slaughter House Mix)" is on this song, and demonstrates ICP's understanding of their audience. A song about killing dumb, ignorant hillbillies, I have to assume it's cathartic to people who left behind wacky rural families behind when they left home. "Toy Box" is about a guy with murderous toys that turn on him, and makes me laugh. It sounds hokey, and that's because it is, hokey and worth a listen. A lot of this is appealing to me because I don't listen to rap music, partly because I don't care for the subject matter.

I like rappers like Kanye West and Eminem because I can't identify with or enjoy a lot of the gangsta-macho stuff that mainstream rap can't seem to get away from. With ICP, their personas are over the top killer clowns, and that's awesome! Because they're so goofy and have been pretty much rejected from pop culture, their music appeals to social outcasts and others who are down on their luck, something that Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J recognize.

That being said, before I move into the next album, I should probably mention "Ol' Evil Eye", ICP's own adaptation of Poe's "The Tell-tale Heart". Good shit, even if it makes the master turn over in his grave.

The Great Milenko is fantastic, and is a Joker's Card about an evil necromancer clown that tempts you into damning yourself. I'm told this is more of a hip-hop album, but as someone who isn't that familiar with this kind of music, I can't tell the difference. What I will say is there are more songs here that I like than on the previous three albums. The intro, which is read by none other than Alice Cooper, is excellent, as is the title track and "Hokus Pokus", both of which are sufficiently creepy and dark.

"Piggy Pie" is a song about murdering dickhead cops that uses a very, um, clever three little pigs motif. As a funny aside, this album was initially put out by Hollywood Records, and had to be approved by Disney, who forced them to change this song. The album was pulled from shelves anyway, making the whole exercise of censorship pointless anyway. It's just funny to think that Disney read associated with ICP at one point.

"Southwest Voodoo" is another effective song, featuring a black magic chant for chorus, which is to say nothing of "Halls of Illusion", which has Slash on guitar!

One of my other favorites off this album is the existential "How Many Times", which puts you in the mindset of the type of person ICP is talking to. Broke, down on your luck, arrested, your stereo stolen, it's hard to imagine things can ever really get better; in a world that rejects you and shows your no respect, why not remake yourself as a psychotic clown? As Manson says, "They'll never be good to you/bad to you/they'll never be anything at all". Any aging goth kid can understand where ICP is coming from here.

The Amazing Jeckel Brothers is the first album I listened to, and probably my favorite one. "Terrible" and "Bring it On" have the heavy sound that I love, and "Assassins" is just an awesome, badass song in general. If hip-hop is just another word for tough guy music, these songs definitely fit the bill. The bass lines make the songs positively rock in a way I didn't think was possible for ICP. "Everybody Rize" is a cool Juggalo anthem, as is "Fuck the World", calling out a culture and industry that rejects and hates them like a boss. If you're on the fence about these fuckers, this is another great album to start with, especially considering the touching final song, "Nothing's Left", which reflects on the broken nature of the world, and wonders if there can be any real salvation for anyone. Considering ICP are Christian and ultimately incorporated they're religion into their music, I know what their opinion on this is, but just begging the question gives the song a universal appeal that even an angry atheist like myself can identify with.

At the end of the day, I have to figure that getting to know the Insane Clown Posse was rewarding for me. I'm not a Juggalo, but I understand their world a lot better and get how they can be kind to others and have something special with their subculture. I plan to listen to more ICP and write about them, but I'd like to write about Juggalo culture first. If you're a Juggalo or have any thoughts, I want to hear from you! Have you met the Insane Clown Posse or been to their shows? Have you been to the gathering of the Juggalos? An I wrong about anything I wrote above?

#insane clown posse #hip hop #rap #music #music review #blogger #gothic #rap rock #subculture #new poets society

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tisfan · 4 years

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Ring of Thorns

Title: Ring of Thorns Written by: @tisfan 3023 Square: S3 – Science and Magic Rating: teen and up Triggers/warnings: none Tags: space AU, fairy tale format, sassy Jarvis, bunnies, a truly excessive number of bunnies, pre-slash Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 3919 Art from @gayspacesprinkles (unrelated to the bingo!)

Ship’s log: Stardate 5239.281.5

Woke from hypersleep on schedule -- thank you JARVIS.

“You are welcome, sir.”

The Ring of Thorns is about two days on the sublight engines, which should give me plenty of time to make any course corrections. Course corrections. I say that like anyone has any idea where the best entrance is to the Ring. Several thousand cloaked glass arrows, left over from a war three centuries ago.

JARVIS’s records indicate that a single glass arrow has the explosive capacity to knock a good sized hole in the Malibu, which I have to say, is not an ideal solution. Even with crude calculations of where the bombs were originally seeded -- and let me tell you, that particular chart was not easy to procure -- we don’t know how much stellar drift has moved them. Dozens of ships have tried to fly into the Ring.

All have been, thus far, unsuccessful.

Pieces of the wreckage will add to the difficulty of successfully navigating the field.

I want it noted for the record, if I don’t succeed, I want you to tell Captain Amer -- no scratch that. I always know what I’m doing. This plan I’m gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. What am I even tripping for? Everything's gonna workout exactly the way it's supposed to.

Stardate 5239.282.9

“Set for separation, J?”

“We are set, sir,” JARVIS said. He was the ship’s AI, navigation, piloting, engineering, physician. He served to take the place several key members of a ship’s crew. He was not, however, supposed to be the only other crewmate on a ship the size of the Malibu.

He was, because no one believed Mr. Stark that they could make it through the ring to whatever treasure planet was tucked away inside it.

JARVIS went because he was an AI and because Mr. Stark was his maker. But even if JARVIS had entire free will and he had some, because he was the one steering the ship, he probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. He could have refused to take Mr. Stark at all. Probably. He’d never really tried directly rebelling, and sometimes when he was feeling philosophical, he wondered if that was because he couldn’t rebel, or because Mr. Stark had not been wrong yet, and thus, rebelling was a waste of time.

Mr. Stark would, after all, prove everyone wrong.

And JARVIS wanted to be there, to record all of it.

Truthfully, JARVIS himself wasn’t at risk; he had two backup units hidden away. But if something happened to this version, well, the story would never be told. And he couldn’t have that, could he?

“Remember, sir, close--”

“But not too close, I got it. We got this. Launch the dummy section.”

“Piloting remotely,” JARVIS said. He separated the dummy section of the ship, broad and ugly with the best forward shields that money could buy. He should know. He’d purchased them. And then Mr. Stark had improved them.

The dummy section looked like, in all honesty, like a flying brick. But that was all right. All it had to do was shield the smaller craft behind it.

“Let’s plow the road, JARVIS,” Mr. Stark said.

“As you say, sir.”

Stardate 5239.282.11

“Well, that could have been worse,” Tony said. He was breathing hard, and his hands were shaking. Sweat dripped down the back of his flight suit. But he was alive.

He landed the smaller, more maneuverable craft inside the docking ring.

“Allow me to inform you, sir, there are four glass arrows affixed to the hull--”

“You just have to ruin my moment,” Tony complained. “Can I get a countdown, or is that too much to ask?” He was already unlocking his piloting harness, grabbed a stim patch on his way past the console -- he’d need to be on his mettle if he was going to disarm bombs without detonating them instead and all the juice from his hectic ride through the Ring had dissipated.

“They are quiescent, at the moment, sir,” JARVIS told him. “But core deterioration suggests they are not supposed to be in an atmosphere with oxygen, and they will explode soon enough.”

“Wait, there’s life support in the hanger?”

“It would appear so, sir.”

“Why?” The Ring of Thorns had been in place for several hundred years at least. There was no reason for life support to still be functional.

“I shan’t hazard a guess at this remove,” JARVIS said.

“Can we vent the docking bay?” Tony had more than enough O2 in his suit, as he hadn’t been expecting any such systems to still be in place.

“No, sir,” JARVIS said. “I was able to override the security systems to get us inside by claiming emergency repairs. The system will not let us out until the proper codes have been entered. As well as sudden venting often disrupts seemingly stationary objects--”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to turn the room into a pinball machine. All right, I’m on it.”

Tony had removed three of the bombs -- truly elegant, lethal little things. They were no bigger than two fingers wide and about four times as long, concealed by a mirror-shield that bent light around it, showing up as flecks of black and the occasional flash of light in a starfield. No propellant, no heat reading, not even any traceable particles emissions. Old school explosives. Not quite all the way back to pipebombs with horseshoe nails mixed in, but still. Household chemicals.

Ions only knew what the people who made them were thinking when they mixed them up and set them loose in space to guard their station and their planet.

They were all dead, at least.

Theoretically. No one could get close enough to tell.

“Uh, sir,” JARVIS said. “You have company. Turn around very slowly.”

Tony didn’t quite raise his hands, but he was expecting to see someone armed and presumably dangerous.

What he saw instead was-- an animal? With white and tan fur covering its entire body, including a set of very long ears. Red eyes peered at him curiously and the creature took a few hopping steps closer.

“JARVIS,” Tony muttered, keeping his eyes on the creature, “what is it?”

“A Lagomorpha, particularly a subset of Leporidae. Known as oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus, or more commonly, a bunny rabbit.”

“Does it eat-- meat?” Tony was an awfully big meal, but as he watched the-- rabbit-- carefully, he noticed there were more.

A lot more.

“I daresay, sir, unless the species has evolved along another path,” JARVIS said, “they are primarily interested in grasses, fruits, and vegetables. A garden pest, as they were described in older zoology reports. And, to some degree, a pet.”

“People pet them?” Tony wondered, looking around. They were fluffy and sort of cute. Some of them sat up on their hind legs to look closer at Tony.

“Other people raised them for food and fur stock,” JARVIS continued.

Tony took a step forward and the lead rabbit thumped his foot several times against the deck plating. Other rabbits took up the signal and stamped as well, until the entire facility was ringing like being inside a drum.

Tony found himself on the floor, hands clapped over his ears. By the time the noise stopped, three or four of the bunnies were very close to Tony, noses wiggling curiously. One of them hopped all the way up to him, put a soft paw on his knee and poked its face directly at his chin.

“I’m not made of food,” Tony told it, and he went to shoo it away, but he touched it instead.

Oh. Oh, it was so soft. Oh, Ions, so soft. He let himself sit down, let them hop up to him, sniffing curiously.

“It seems they have never seen a human, either, sir,” JARVIS commented.

“Do, uh, we have anything we could feed them? What are they even eating around here?”

“A closer look at the scans, sir,” JARVIS said, “the hydroponics bays seem to have overrun most of the station. They’ve been living in a perfect bunny paradise. All the food they could want, and no predators.”

“Sounds lovely,” Tony said, and one of the bunnies hopped into his lap and proceeded to turn around a few times before flopping over and going to sleep. “Although, gotta say, a cargo bay of rabbits wasn’t what I was hoping to find.”

Riches, technological artifacts, answers. Especially answers. What had happened here, why had the people gone silent, or died? Why did they leave behind such elaborate traps?

“We could set up a fur trade, sir,” JARVIS suggested and Tony could have sworn that every single bunny in the room gave him the stink eye. All at once. It was chilling.

“Yeeaaah, think I’m gonna go with no on that one, JARVIS,” Tony said. “Do you think there’s anyway to explain kaboom to them, because if I don’t get that last glass arrow off the hull, we’re all going to be in the fur trade.”

“You neglected to add lapine language skills to my databanks, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Smart ass AI,” Tony muttered, nudging the black bunny out of his lap. “Shoo. Go fetch. Something. Do you fetch? Yeah, go… go find a-- what to rabbits eat?”

“Strictly speaking, their diet is a mix of alfalfa and--”

“Whatever. Go… have a smoothie. Look, if you go into the galley on my ship, DUM-E will make you smoothies, go go.”

They didn’t go go or shoo shoo, but they did back up a little or hopped away as he stood up. He had to watch his feet as he moved back over to the ship, grabbing for the wrench. “Switch it up, JARVIS,” he said, and JARVIS triggered the color changing squares on the outside of the ship, one at a time, until Tony could physically locate the glass arrow, and only because he was looking really closely. The arrow changed colors, too, but at a slightly -- very slightly -- slower rate.

And then Tony was able to find it by touch, sliding his hand over the panel until he encountered a small projection.

Once removed from the ship, the colors swirled again until what Tony held in his hands was flesh and floor and bunny colored. The biologics didn’t blend as easily, they weren’t mathematical or predictable, so once he had it away from the hull, it was a lot easier to look at.

For something called a glass arrow, it was neither. More like a flat, thin package with a few grooves at each end. Not really accurate, but evocative, the imagery, he meant. Twisting the tail end, he slowly removed the detonation packet, wrapped in hyper thin plastics. Once that package was out, the arrow itself was rendered mostly harmless. Except that Tony would feel better getting all of it off the ship.

He found a couple of rolling bins in the docking bay, emptied them of the tools they contained, and then loaded the explosives into them. “Can I space this shit, or is the airlock broken, too?”

“The south side airlock appears fully functional, sir,” JARVIS told him. Tony grabbed a couple of remote-automatics and affixed them to the sides of the bins. Station gravity would eventually grab anything floating in proximity to the station; it had taken quite a few murderers getting caught before they realized you could not, in fact, just junk a body out an airlock.

But you could fire one into the nearest star. Which is what the remote-automatics were for. Small, one shot of fuel, affixable to a trash or discarded object -- or even at some of the largest ring world systems, to move supplies through space -- to propel them away. Once in motion, they’d stay in motion until a larger gravity well swallowed them up.

“Bombs away,” Tony said, setting the bins into the airlock. He sealed the inner door, opened the outer door, and then flew the trash off into space. The nearest star was several weeks away by sub light propulsion. Unless it hit a few of its cousins while out there, in which case, he could expect a pretty pretty boom in a few hours.

“Always so observant, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, pushing away from the porthole. “You got anything for me yet?”

“Their mainframe systems are so old as to be little better than hand-cranked automobiles, sir,” JARVIS said. “I’m having difficulty navigating their systems without overwhelming them. That said, the system suggests you might find an interpreter on the eighth deck, C-section.”

“I am not delivering a baby on this station,” Tony swore and chuckled to himself. It wouldn’t take JARVIS that long to find the reference -- it had always been a bit of a challenge with them. Could Tony, in fact, find a historical or cultural reference so old that JARVIS didn’t have access to it.

So far the answer had always been no.

Tony grabbed several tools to help him around the ship; a crowbar for opening unruly doors, as well as more electronic overrides. MagmaTorch, if he had to go through the door.

The vegetation was even thicker in the hallways. “Where are the plants getting food from?” Because really, dirt was a thing, even if Tony didn’t like standing on it. There was a thick coating of moss on the floor in places, and Tony found himself stepping around it. He did squat down long enough to take a sample, and send it off to JARVIS to analyze.

“Sample shows a flourishing, if unusual, ecosystem, sir,” JARVIS told him. “The sample appears to be similar to compost. Organic waste, sir.”

“Rabbit shit?”

“It’s likely the first plants would have started in the hydroponics area; if they outgrew their containers, they would have likely encountered fertilizer and soil samples there. My map of the station shows that system-recycling was only a deck below.”

“Old human shit,” Tony rephrased.

“And bodies that weren’t spaced, food waste, biological waste.” Many places stored that up, condensed into cubes, packed into bags, and then sold to terraforming colonies. Probably the same sort of idea. It was being used for its intended purpose, then, if not necessarily its intended place. “The ship’s lighting system has stayed on, providing material for photosynthesis. Since the late twenty-fifth century all human space-going vehicles utilize solar lamps to prevent crew depression, mood swings, and the inability to digest certain foods.”

“Yeah, we’re made for gravity and sunlight,” Tony said. He paused to force a door to the companionway. The ladders stretched up and down several levels, slightly offset to prevent a bad fall from becoming a fatal flaw. Smart. “So they’re not in any immediate danger of being wiped out?”

“The power banks are currently still at half capacity. With such a slow rate of decay, even without intelligent interference, this colony could continue on without problems for another three or four hundred years.”

“What are they using to power this place?”

JARVIS continued to analyze the station, providing more and more obscure data and facts. Frankly, Tony stopped entirely listening. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, but there were also interesting things--

He stopped in a long hallway with doors spaced equally, and pushed one open. Crew quarters, right? Had to be…

The room was empty. Not just of crew, he really was not expecting a skeleton -- or maybe he was -- but also of artifacts. It was just empty. Bed cubby with no mattress, desk with no terminal or ports. Closet with no clothes.

“People did used to live here, didn’t they?”

“Records suggest that this station had a population of approximately twenty-thousand human beings at the time that contact with the greater galaxy ended.”

“What the hell happened to twenty-thousand people? I mean, even if the rabbits ate them--”

“Let me remind you, sir, that rabbits are primarily vegetarian,” JARVIS said.

“Thanks, you might need to keep reminding me of that--”

He wasn’t going to be able to close that door again, since a handful of rabbits had followed him in, and he wasn’t sure how to get them out again. They didn’t really seem like herd creatures to him. And while they’d been surviving perfectly well on their own, he didn’t really want them to starve to death because of him. Right?

It was a working theory, at least. No rabbit murdering.

He made it all the way to 8th-deck, Section C. Finally. Plants. A lot of them, too. And more rabbits.

“What exactly am I looking for here?” Tony wondered. He pushed his way through thicker plants, almost jungle-like in their sheer stubbornness to give way.

“I might say you’ll know it when you see it, sir,” JARVIS said, “which would be quite helpful, since I’m entirely uncertain--”

“Oh.”

That.

Stardate 5239.283.02

“I don’t believe the situation is going to change, no matter how long you keep staring,” JARVIS commented.

“Sarcastic, I like that.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Still. This is not something I want to jump into right away. I mean, when the station AI--”

“It’s not an AI sir, the station’s computer systems are significantly less advanced in all ways--”

“Don’t be petty. It’s beneath you.”

“As I don’t, in fact, have a corporeal body, sir, you might add that everything is beneath me. Or nothing is beneath me. An interesting question for the next time you feel philosophical.”

“Which does not answer any of my current philosophical questions,” Tony said. “Like who is this guy, why is he asleep in that thing, and will he die immediately if we try to wake him up?”

“Probably not immediately,” JARVIS said. “He’s hardly a vampire and going to poof into dust at exposure to sunlight.”

“What?”

“I beg your pardon sir, I was looking up some of the various mythology typical to this station at the time. Did you know they believed the whole place was cursed?”

“Of course they did,” Tony said. “Also, why would I know that? How could I possibly know that-- cursed? What even does cursed mean?”

“A curse is the belief that powerful entities can take an interest in humans,” JARVIS said. “Faeries, witches, demigods and deities, for example. When these humans do something wrong, or offensive, or are in some cases, just being used as scapegoats for a powerful creature, that leads to a curse. A series of misfortunes that cannot be averted, except by a single act. Sometimes it’s ridiculously complicated, like when the moon loses her child if it happens in a week when two Mondays come together. And sometimes, all that takes to break a curse is true love’s first kiss.”

“Like that’s not complicated,” Tony complained. “So you’re saying I should kiss the guy awake to break the curse?”

“Much in the case of a week with two Mondays, sir,” JARVIS said, “you might want to take into consideration that your blood and cells are filled with--”

“Aesculapian nanintes,” Tony breathed. Which repaired injuries, protected him from disease and posion, and vastly extended his life span. Most infants born on Tony’s planet inherited some of them from their parents, but often required a booster injection every twenty years. And, in emergencies, you could share your nanintes with someone else, to heal their wounds.

Tony had gotten a booster shot last year, on his fortieth birthday, which meant his system was currently in top form.

“The fastest way to share nanites--”

“Is fluid transfer.”

“A kiss,” Tony corrected, directing a smug smile in no particular direction. JARVIS could see him.

“Indeed, sir, I’m so glad you thought of it.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Flounder,” JARVIS responded. “Badly.”

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate with that one.”

Tony studied the casing a little while longer. The man was dressed entirely in white, except for a black cap where his left arm had been, he had long hair and just a hint of a beard. If Tony had to guess, he’d say the man had gone into some sort of healing tube while a replacement limb was vat-grown for him. Nanites could mend split skin and broken bones, but it wasn’t much good at regrowing parts entirely.

But Tony didn’t see any sort of vat system at all. Maybe they kept that somewhere else.

Theoretically, Tony’s nanites would keep the man alive, long enough to ask some questions, to find the bioregen chambers, or their historical equivalent. Get some answers, provide some aid. Something.

And, also, very quietly, to himself, where even JARVIS couldn’t hear him.

Tony might actually want to kiss the man.

He was stunningly, almost shockingly beautiful. His cheeks were just perfect, and the chin, with the hint of a cleft. Full, kissable lips, parted just a little. Long lashes. Tony didn’t know what color his eyes were, but he liked to think they were blue. Tony felt like he could see… everything.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Your brain is producing an increased amount of vasopressin, adrenaline, dopamine, and oxytocin.”

“Yeah?”

“And I believe you are experiencing mydriasis-- it’s a nerve reaction that causes your pupils to dilate,” JARVIS went on.

“Which means what?”

“Quite honestly, sir,” JARVIS said. “I think you are, as the poets would say, falling in love.”

“Yeah?” Tony found he didn’t quite care. It was almost like being drunk, a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling that just, made him generally happy. He wanted to share that with someone. A very specific someone.

He wasn’t sure how he knew which button to push, but the top of the tube slid away, and the man inside took a slow, stuttering breath.

“It’s all right,” Tony told him. “I’m here to rescue you.”

He leaned in, mouth open slightly, and kissed the man he hadn’t even really met. It was more than love at first meeting, it was--

A very nice kiss, warm, soothing, soft, with just a little heat in it.

The man pulled away, licked his lips as if tasting Tony on them and gazed up at him. “Uh… aren’t you a little short to be a stormtrooper?”

“What?” Tony blinked, then blinked again. “How-- how do you know Star Wars? That is Star Wars you’re quoting, right, late 20th century cinema? I-- I’m a--”

The man struggled to sit, and Tony helped him until he could swing his legs over the side. “So, uh, question-- who are you, and why is there a rabbit on top of my stasis tube?”

“Um, my name is Tony Stark,” Tony said.

“Bucky Barnes,” the man said. “Uh, nice to meet you. Great kiss by the way, hell of a wake up call. Is my unit waiting for me--”

“Uh, no, no, probably not.”

Bucky stared around the room, from the bunny to the greenery to the bunny, and then back to Tony. “How long? How long was I asleep?”

“I can’t say exactly, but-- it’s been at least three hundred years since we last had contact with this station.”

“Oh.” Bucky took a deep breath, and then another one, and a third. “Oh. I guess… I guess she won.”

“Who? Who did this to you? What happened here?”

“Hydra did this to me. Mother of serpents and dragons. A witch. It’s a long story.”

“I-- don’t think there’s any such thing as witches,” Tony said, hesitantly.

“Oh, there are,” Bucky said. “Believe me. There are.”

A/n - art from @gayspacesprinkles isn’t it LOVELY!? Now stop screaming, I already have a part 2 planned for this.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #winterironwidow #Tony Stark & Sassy JARVIS #bingo fill

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itssolonelyhere · 4 years

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I dont know if you prompts or requests but can you do a Sakura or Joker being sick and the other having to take care of them from Tyaku and Queen? I like both versions of her from each and wonder how theyd react to it.

To be honest, I never gave it any thought. This is a good idea to flex my writing muscles and give me a break from the mountain of revisions I’m working on. I’ll give it a go and hopefully, it’s not too bad… I’ll do one for Tsūyaku now and when I’m done work, another for Queen of the Rhombus. If you have any more, I don’t mind doing them.

Tsūyaku – Sakura’s sick in bed when J comes back from a job.

It's hot. Too damn hot.

Sakura groans and tears her eyes away from the ceiling to stare out the window. The snow's still falling and it doesn't seem as if it'll stop soon. It's a beautiful sight that would have delighted her on most days, but she can't find it in herself to relish the view.

Green eyes watch the feathered crystals dancing in the wind, twirling around as it gently falls to the ground. It's a struggle to crane her neck up, hoping to see how much area it covers since she fell asleep. To her surprise, everything outside is pure white, leaving nothing untouched. The dead trees and grass, the bench where she likes to sit on to read, the van parked alongside the building, even the wrap-around porch. All blanketed by winter's frosty kiss and it's so dazzling that it's hard to look at for too long.

The darkening sky is still white, but she can tell it's getting late without rolling over to check the clock. Dropping against the mattress, Sakura lets out a shuddered breath and swallows hard. Being sick is a miserable experience that leaves her with nothing to do aside from mulling over everything that worries her. It's foolish, she knows, but part of her is still concerned.

Joker's been gone for a few days, which isn't unusual at all. Sometimes he stays for brief periods in the city for his 'job', but always comes back. Usually, it's with a cocky smirk and filthy clothes, yet on those few occasions that he doesn't… Someone ends up in the basement where he spends hours doing God-knows-what with his tools. The pinkette knows what goes on down there and it's not a secret, either.

That area is off-limits, especially to her, and Rocco is the only one that's alive who's seen it. If curiosity got the best of her and she took a tour, it will only haunt the pinkette's days and night. She doesn't enjoy that kind of 'entertainment' and Joker knows that. Snooping around might end up in a little punishment, but that's about it. Anyone else would be terrified at the thought, and rightfully so. Her discipline doesn't end with broken bones, missing limbs, or death.

Hearing the familiar stomping up the stairs, Sakura wants to push herself up the bed to greet him. Another trickle of sweat trails along the pale skin of her face from the effort, but she can't muster the strength to even sit up. It's pathetic to find herself in such a state, especially with her abilities. The pinkette can't remember the last time she was sick, let alone to this degree. With a strained groan, she gives up and settles into the mattress, waiting for him to burst through the door.

The doorknob twists and she peers over the fluffy duvet to see a tall figure standing at the threshold. Just as she expects, Joker looks like a mess as he stalks into the bedroom, leaving a wet trail of shoe prints across the hardwood floor. His purple trench coat has splotches of ash and dried blood, mixed with other substances she'd rather not think about. The greasepaint is smeared and missing in patches, revealing his tan skin beneath, with the rest weeping down his face. As always, J's hair is a faded, stringy mess that never listens to any commands, just like its owner. No matter when she catches him, he forever has the appearance of a wild madman.

And that's just fine.

Right away, his brow furrows when he notices her lying beneath the covers, unnaturally pale and sweaty. Usually, Sakura is busy doing something or another, whether it's reading or wrapped up in a craft. Not today. Those black pits in his sockets narrow on her as he shrugs off his trench coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. They make her want to shrink into nothingness, no matter how many times she gazes into them.

He moves to stand at the end of the bed, staring without saying a word. It's hard to tell if he's in a pleasant mood or not when it's like this. No one's better at keeping everything hidden than him, whether it's his thoughts, feelings, or intentions.

"I missed you…" Her voice is low and raspy, trying to suppress a cough working its way up. All-day the pinkette's been hacking up and the sensation of blades dancing along her throat won't go away.

The side of his mouth quirks up at her words, even if it seems like someone's tugging on it with a fishline. She knows Joker won't repeat it back, but it's his eyes that give him away. He always says they're the gateway to the soul and in the privacy of their room, they can reveal what his words won't.

"You're sick." It's not a question or guess, and she knows it. He can always tell when something's off or not right, no matter if she tries to hide it. They grew up together, and he's already seen it all, even if she's still missing pieces to their puzzle.

Sakura gives him a weary, apologetic smile, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. When he comes home, she likes to greet him and show how much she missed him, whether he disappears for a day or five. Right now, her aching muscles can't bear to even get herself up.

"Hmm…" Joker grunts and saunters off towards the bathroom and she almost calls after him. From the looks of his clothes, he can use a good shower, but those are trivial matters to him. Even if she wants to spend time with him, he's a busy man and has been gone for days.

Sighing, the pinkette leans back against the pillow and closes her eyes. Jack will come to her when he's ready and needs his space. Who knows what kind of shit-show he just pulled off? She might as well try to get some sleep and hopefully, this sickness will run its course faster.

'I need to get better soon. I'm useless like this.'

Something sopping wet and cold drops onto her face, jolting Sakura back to her senses. Sputtering from the water running down her skin, she reaches up in surprise and yanks it away. Joker's looming over the side of the bed and arches a brow, trying to hold back a cackle she knows is coming. Glancing at her hand, there's a soaking, wet rag he didn't bother wringing out.

'Fucking figures…'

"Keep it on your forehead, doll." Despite his expression, there's something playful in his pitch-dark, glassy eyes. When she doesn't move, he snatches the rag and folds it over, smacking it against her forehead. Beads of cold water trail down her temples into the pink hair strewn over the pillow and she bites her lip to keep back a retort. Most people would see this as being heavy-handed and crude, but she knows better. This is his version of care and it's the best he can do. This is more than she can ask for. It's the intent and effort that's appreciated, even if J's harsh with everything he does.

The cool rag feels heavenly against her heated skin and she breaks out in goosebumps from the difference. A breathy sigh spills from her lips and he smirks at the reaction.

"We're not done yet." Sakura finally notices what's in his gloved hand. A bottle of medicine and a spoon. She has no clue where the spoon came from and doesn't ask. It'll only result in a vague or arrogant remark, neither she wants to deal with at the moment.

Watching him fiddling with the cap, the pinkette can't help recalling all the times she did this in the past for him. Eight years ago, when his mouth was healing after being slashed open. He consistently kept tearing the stitches open, and they became so infected, yet he refused to go to the hospital. Jack was always so goddamn stubborn and never listens, even if it results in making himself suffer twice as long.

"Open up." The spoon is right near her lips, and she grimaces from the strong scent of the medication. It's dark red and reminds her of blood, but she'd rather smell that over this. Noticing her expression and distaste, gloved fingers pinch her stuffy nose, and she reluctantly opens her mouth. The nasty liquid runs down her throat as the metal clangs against her teeth, making sure she takes all of it.

"Don't spit it out or I'll have to punish ya." Joker pops his lips, ignoring the way she's kicking her feet around under the covers and the disgruntled noises eating away at the small amount of energy she has left. It's disgusting, and he knows how much she hates medicine, but she needs it. Sometimes people have to do what's necessary for the ones they care about.

"Gross!" She swats his hand away from her nose, letting annoyance overpower her exhaustion. If looks can kill, Batman would have one less chaotic problem to deal with.

"How 'bout ya just relax? Hmm? Ya won't get better by being a pain in the ass." This time, J doesn't restrain the cackle that's been building up in his chest. It's harsh on the ears, but Sakura finds it enjoyable and contagious, causing her annoyance to wane. She can never stay angry at him long, no matter what he does.

"That's my girl." He leans down and kisses the tip of her nose, leaving a red smudge behind. That only makes his fit worse, falling into hysterics. She never understands why he finds leaving greasepaint on her face so funny, but that doesn't stop her from smiling.

"Heh. Looks good on ya." Grabbing the rag, he wipes it off before dropping it back in place. She frowns at the water running down her neck, even if it feels good. J is such a weird man, but she loves him anyway in all his vicious glory.

Joker's eyes don't leave hers as he toes off his battered dress shoes and starts plucking the buttons of his green waistcoat. When he was standing next to the bed, she noticed everything's wet and cold from being out in the snow. If the pinkette wasn't so sick, she'd help take it all off for him and use herself as bait to tempt the clown into a hot shower. That's the best way to get him cleaned up, otherwise, he doesn't care about any of it. He'll go filthy for days without batting one of those heavy, shadowy lids.

"How'd it go? Did you guys have any problem with the snow?" Jack frowns after throwing his belt on the floor when the inquiry causes a coughing fit that makes her small body shake beneath the duvet. His lip curls up and she thinks he's about to snarl, but it doesn't come. Stamping across the hardwood floor, he clicks his tongue and throws the covers off his side of the bed and flops down.

For a moment, Sakura thinks he might be angry that she asked. Since the day they ran into each other, he never really liked talking about his 'job' to her but has been opening up a little more as time goes by. Sometimes he complains about a goon making a grievous error that Joker rectifies with a bullet or attempts to lure the Bat out from whatever cave he's been hiding in after Dent's death. The pinkette finds it all fascinating and exciting, even if it's terrible, but this is who Jack is now. He revels in the explosions and fires, all the mayhem and complicated plans.

"Shaddap if it hurts to talk." He grunts and slides across the mattress, dragging the duvet back over. Sakura shifts to look at him, watching the clown leaning his bare back against the headboard. The muscle in his cheeks twitches and he mutters something under his breath, but she can't pick up on it.

'What's he doing now?'

"C'mere." Despite telling her to come to him, he scoots over and the bed dips under his weight. Laying on his side, J moves closer until there's no room left. She knows he missed her, even if the words won't come out. Actions always speak louder and prove more than anything else. Sweet-nothings and heartfelt confessions are what most people yearn for, but Sakura would rather a man show her the truth than speak lies.

This is his form of care, even if it's gruff and obnoxious. Jack's violent, arrogant, manipulative, and downright cruel most of the time. However, it's those specks in between that’s saved especially for her that makes the rest inconsequential. The clown keeps her safe from the other monsters that lurk in the shadows throughout the city. They won't hesitate to rip her to pieces or abuse her ability, unlike this man. He likes the pinkette staying whole, even if their nights result in minor cuts and bruises in the shape of a large hand or long fingers. It's nothing she can't heal and they both have fun causing them. That's what happens when a man's rough in bed and he does it right.

Sakura closes her eyes when he buries his face in her hair, greedily breathing in her scent. J treats it like huffing in fumes he's trying to high from and never wants to stop. A hand slithers under the sheets and rests on her abdomen, drawing lazy circles over the thin fabric of her shirt with his fingers. He's been doing this more often lately, and she's not sure why but is worried he might stop if she asks. It's soothing and helps lull her into a peaceful state, letting all the worries from outside the bedroom melt right off her shoulders. Nothing matters anymore, except the two of them.

The small action elicits a groan from the pinkette as she leans her head against his chest, finding a comfortable spot. His skin is always so warm as if the fire he loves so much dances just beneath the surface. It's like having a safe, heated blanket wrapped around her that no one can get through. As long as she stays here, nothing can touch her besides him and the thought is oddly pleasant.

"Well, doll… Since ya asked so nicely and you're stuck in bed, might as well give ya some entertainment while I'm here." Sakura knows what that means. He wants to paint a vivid picture of his exploits from his excursion in the city, yet is trying to make it seem like he's doing her a favor. The showman in him enjoys the applause and awe he's able to draw out from her by giving every gory detail and miraculous feat, becoming completely smug from his ingenuity and perseverance.

"Great. I want to hear it." She coughs again and her voice is still raspy. He can feel her muscles jolt from each one as his fingers pulse against the flimsy material. The moment the fit stops, the pinkette jerks when he pinches her cheek, giving it a little tug to get his point across.

"I thought I told ya not to talk if it hurts? Hmm?" Glancing up, he has an exaggerated frown that almost looks like a wide smile from her angle. His tongue snakes out to prod the broken skin of his scar, waiting until she slowly nods before continuing.

"Good. Just re-lax and I'll tell ya all about my little run-in with the, ah, Bat."

#Heath Ledger Joker #joker #joker x sakura #oneshot #care #couple stuff #sweet and sour #caveman #the dark knight #crossover #Sakura Haruno #Naruto crossover #fanfiction #medicine #crime #request #I like this

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grinch-003 · 4 years

Text

UNDERSIDE (Test version) chapter 4

[Start] [Previous] [Next]

Chapter 4: “Project: “Fragmentation”

DAY: 23 AUGUST

YEAR: 2032

TIME: 7:19 PM

[“Cage”…]

Jack: (Exhales black smoke)

Alphys: (Not far from “Cage”) A–are okay th–there, Jack…?

Jack: (All black) (Looks down) Kinda, Al…kinda… (Walls are covered with scratches)

[6 hours ago…]

[Area #5…]

Jack: (Exhausted) Huff…huff…huff… Undyne, please…gimme a break…

Undyne: Fufufufu… Fine, punk. I had to be on patrol anyway.

Jack: (Looks at Undyne) Then why are you here…?

Undyne: To make sure that you are still tough. (Smiles) K’ gotta go. (Walks away)

Jack’s thoughts: Yeah, she wasn’t kidding, when she said, that training would deadly. But at least, she was going easy on me, if I couldn’t keep up.

?????: (From behind) Well, well, well, look what we’ve got here…

Jack: How and why did you come here? (Turned around) (Pissed) Oh, yeah… Still hiding behind your family’s skirt, wimp.

?????: Ha! Looks like you still hanging out with your friends, MONSTER?

Jack: (Getting angry) My name is JACK…and I recommend you to get outta here.

?????: Hey, I didn’t hurt your little sister this time.

Jack: Don’t you dare even talk about Saldels, Eline! Guess you didn’t learn that I hate humans like you. (Calmed down a bit)

Eline: At least, I am a HUMAN.

Jack: Yeah, so what’s your point in here?

Eline: (Pissed) You are not even a monster, you just a coldblooded and soul-eating BEAST!

Jack: (Thumb–thumb) (Turns black) SHUT… (Teleported) (Appeared in front of Eline) UP! (Attacked Eline with a scythe)

[Crack…]

W.D.Gaster: (Blocked Jack’s attack) You have to calm down, Jack. (Looks at Eline) And you… (Looks at Eline) Eline Airelle, you should be ashamed. (Teleported Aline to a safe place)

Jack: Don’t forget that I’m still here, DOC! (Slashes Gaster)

W.D.Gaster: (Protected himself with a summoned blaster)

Jack: (Soul turned blue) Wha…?

Sans: You are blue now. (Throws Jack away)

Jack: (Flew into the wall) Ggghhhhaa…!

Sans: (Teleported to Gaster) (Looks at Gaster) You okay, dad?

W.D.Gaster: I think…I am…

Sans: What’s gotten into him? And what’s more questioning…he summoned a weapon…

W.D.Gaster: A scythe… That’s what he used for the attack.

Jack: (Stands on the ground) (Summoned Blasters) I’M NOT DONE YET!!!!! (Shooted)

Serjel: (Running to Sans and Gaster) (Jumped) (Landed on the ground in front of Gaster) I’m sorry, Jack. (Shooted)

[Flash…]

Jack: Ehh…? (Was shooted)

Serjel: (Cries)

W.D.Gaster: Ace…

Serjel: (Turns to Gaster) Answer me, Gaster. (Shouts) HOW DID IT ALL COME TO THIS!!??!?

Jack: (Appears out of nowhere) I think you forgetting something, dad… (About to attack) JUSTICE DOESN’T WORK AGAINST ME. (Slashes)

Saldels: (Blocked Jack’s attack with a sword)

Serjel: Uhh… Saldels…?

Saldels: (Shouts at Jack) WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, JACK?!?!?!?!? DID YOU REALLY WANTED TO KILL OUR FRIENDS AND OUR OWN FATHER?!?!? (Furiously attacks Jack) (Stabbed Jack into the chest) (Realizes) What am I…?

Jack: Great job, sis… (With a sword in a chest)

Saldels: (Shocked)

Jack: (Bleeding) (Smiles) See, you are not a coward…

Saldels: J–Jack, w–why are you smiling…?

Jack: Can’t I be proud of my little sister. (Crying)

Saldels: But you are crying…! (About to cry)

Jack: That’s because of pain, and because your JUSTICE magic really hurts me. (Started to fall) (Sword disappeared from the chest) So, please…

Saldels: Bro…! (Catches Jack)

Jack: Become even stronger, to make sure that you’ll kill me next time. (Passed out)

Saldels: Ggghh… (Cries) (Hugs Jack tight)

[Now…]

Jack: It’s all my fault. (Looks up) That’s why I’m in the “Cage”–a camera for the most dangerous objects in this lab. And I’m here because I lost control above my emotions.

W.D.Gaster: Don’t be so harsh on yourself. Human or monster, you are still you.

Alphys: Yeah, th–that’s right…!

Jack: Thanks, but can you just leave me alone, please? I need to think…

[W.D.Gaster and Alphys left…]

[Control room…]

Serjel: Is he still there?

W.D.Gaster: Yes… (Looks at Serjel) he decided to stay there to think a bit.

Alphys: H–he still bl–blaming himself for everything wh–what happened…

Saldels: I’m not sure, maybe it’s because…

Serjel: Quit it, Saldels… (Looks at Saldels) he’s not mad at you, he even thanked you.

Saldels: (Remembers Jack’s words)

[Serjel’s office…]

Serjel: (Smokes) Emotions always were Jack’s problem, and I know, that sometimes he loses control above them. But still…what was that strange thing behind him?

[Later that day…]

[“Cage”…]

Jack:(Sits on the floor) (Leans to the wall) Buzz off already. And what was your name again…?

Jass: (In the air) It was JASS, and it looks like that you still didn’t understand WHO AM I.

Jack: NO, so what…? Are you gonna tell me who are you or what exactly?

Jass: Easier to say that I’M YOU, but it’s too boring… (Grins) don't you think?

Jack: You are my HATE, aren’t you? And this also explains why are you look like me or why are you all black and kinda jerk…

Jass: Tsk, smart ass. So, are you gonna curse me till death, because of me, you’ve almost killed your friends and family?

Jack: No, I’m not going to curse, or even blame you. Everything that happened is not your fault, it’s mine. G’night, Jass.

Jass: Hmm…better be on your side than against you. Goodnight, kid. (Smiles)

DAY: 11 JULY

YEAR: 2035

TIME: 11:45 AM

Jack: (Smiles)

Jass: (Stands next to Jack) Congrats! You are 15 years old now…uuuhh… Remind me, what can you do now? I still can’t understand this AGE thing…

Jack: Well… (Looks straight) it’s been 5 years since I’m in this project, and it’s been a 1 year since I killed doctor Rose.

Jass: Sad…and rough. I remember, that you killed her by yourself, but she doesn’t blame. (Concerned) And do you even feel happiness or… Something?

Jack: Not sure. (Looked at the watch) It’s about time, I should go. (Walks away)

Jass: Good luck, Jack Ace Side.

Jack: (Snorked) Thanks.

Monica Rose: (Behind Jass) He didn’t change at all, and yet…he looks and acts differently.

Jass: He saved your life, by absorbing your soul. But he thinks that you hate him, that’s why he can’t see or even feel that you are right next to him.

Monica Rose: It’s okay, he just needs time. (Turned around) ‘Kay, bye. (Waved)

Jass: See ya later, doc.

[At the main lab…]

W.D.Gaster: Finally arrived. I guess you’ve been thinking, haven’t you?

Jack: (Shrinked) Ehh, maybe…

W.D.Gaster: Well then… (Turned around) (Starts to walk) let’s go.

Jack: (Follows Gaster) Right beside you, Wing Dings Gaster.

W.D.Gaster: (Looked behind)

Jack: (Smiled)

[The test area…]

Serjel: Greetings, Gaster. Hello, Jack. Are you ready?

Jack: Yeah, I am. And…(Looked away) sorry about your eye…

Serjel : (Smiles) Don’t worry about it.

Saldels: C’mon, bro. Let’s finish this quickly, and then we should celebrate your birthday.

Jack: (Comes to machine) (Stopped) (Turned back) Counting on you, guys. (Entered the machine)

Serjel, Saldels & W.D.Gaster: WE WILL DO OUR BEST!

[Inside the machine…]

Jack: I hope, I won’t have another amnesia, and it’ll erase all those years that I spent here.

[Glass brakes and alarm starts to work…]

Jack: What just…ghhhaaaaa… (Falls on his knees) (Hardly breaths)

[At the control point…]

Serjel: (Looks at Alphys) Alphys, what happened to the machine?!!?!

Alphys: I–I–I–I–I don’t know, something went wrong and machine went out of control…!

W.D.Gaster: (Looks at the machine) It’s an overload, Jack’s soul contains too much magic, even more than a machine can handle, that’s why it went out of control.

Serjel: (Looks at everyone) Evacuate, NOW!!!

Saldels: (Looks at Serjel) Dad, but what about you!??!!

Serjel: (Looks at Saldels) I can’t leave, I have to stay here and try to stabilize the machine.

Serjel’s thoughts: Besides… (Looks at the machine) I can’t leave my son to die in here.

[Meanwhilee in the machine…]

Jack: (Heavy breathing) It hurts… Why does it hurt so much…?

Jack’s thoughts: It feels like I’m dying, but…at the same time I like I’m already dead.

Jass: (Flies through the hall) What the hell is going on, where’s everyone. (Stoped) (Shocked) WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON HERE!?!??!!? (Notices Serjel) Hey, Oldman, what just happened here, and where is…?!

Serjel: Looks like everyone already evacuated, but the machine can explode at any moment… (Looked at the machine) I don’t have time to run…

Jass: “About to explode”…? (Flies to machine) Jack, get out of the…

Jack: GGHHHHAAAA…!!!!

[Flash…]

[Explosion…]

Jack: (Comes out of the broken machine) Nnghhh… (In pain) Damm it…that was close… (Checks his stats and soul) Heh… (Soul cracked into pieces) In some way, it looks stable, but… my HP is falling down.

Serjel: (Shouts) JACK…!!!!!!

Jack: Shit…

Serjel: (Runs to Jack) You’re alive, thank God, I thought that you didn’t survive and… (Stopped) (Notices Jack’s broken soul)

Jack: Heh…hey, dad. (Turned to Serjel) Sorry, I have a little problem…

Serjel’s thoughts: NO…no no no. Why did it happen? Wait, maybe this exactly what we needed?

Serjel: (Grabs the box in his office with magic) (Box flew in hand) (Put hand inbox) (Took green pill out of the box) (Gives Jack a green pill) Here, Jack, eat this.

Jack: Dad, I think It’s not the right time for medicine, but if you say so… (Took green pill) (Gulp)

A piece of Jack’s soul turned GREEN, but the other seven pieces still the same. Serjel started to panic because he thought it would help. Then, Jack suggested Serjel give him the rest pills, to find out what would happen. Serjel gave Jack all pills with a face full of despair. Jack ate all those pills. Six pieces of his soul turned YELLOW, BLUE, LIGHT BLUE, PURPLE, ORANGE, and RED.

And yet… The last fragment of his soul still WHITE, but suddenly all fragments started to glow. And for a moment, Serjel thought it worked, but Jack absorbed too much magic at once. His body was about to let out all this magic, but…it could kill him. Serjel begins to beg Jack not to do this. Jack didn’t listen to him at all. So Serjel hugged Jack, and then a big colon of light appeared in the sky. Serjel has gone, and Jack was lying on the ground all alone, surrounded by ruins of the laboratory, where he spent the hardest moments of his life.

#underside #undertale #story

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theliberaltony · 4 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Last week, Twitter tried something new. When President Trump tweeted that “There is NO WAY (ZERO!) that Mail-In Ballots will be anything less than substantially fraudulent,” Twitter appended this message to Trump’s tweet: “Get the facts about mail-in ballots” — which in turn, linked to a page with the headline: “Trump makes unsubstantiated claim that mail-in ballots will lead to voter fraud.”

Given the dangers misinformation poses to both democracy and public health, many believe social media platforms have a responsibility to monitor and correct misinformation before it spreads. But can corrections like this even work? And what role should social media platforms play in combating misinformation?

Well, it turns out there is evidence that fact checks do work. Numerous studies have demonstrated that when confronted with a correction, a significant share of people do, in fact, update their beliefs.

Political scientists Ethan Porter and Thomas J. Wood conducted an exhaustive battery of surveys on fact-checking, across more than 10,000 participants and 13 studies that covered a range of political, economic and scientific topics. They found that 60 percent of respondents gave accurate answers when presented with a correction, while just 32 percent of respondents who were not given a correction expressed accurate beliefs. That’s pretty solid proof that fact-checking can work.

But Porter and Wood have found, alongside many other fact-checking researchers, some methods of fact-checking are more effective than others. Broadly speaking, the most effective fact checks have this in common:

They are from highly credible sources (with extra credit for those that are also surprising, like Republicans contradicting other Republicans or Democrats contradicting other Democrats).

They offer a new frame for thinking about the issue (that is, they don’t simply dismiss a claim as “wrong” or “unsubstantiated”).

They don’t directly challenge one’s worldview and identity.

They happen early, before a false narrative gains traction.

So despite a few studies suggesting that fact checks may make misinformation more prevalent (most prominently a widely-cited paper from political scientists Brendan Nyhan and Jason Reifler in 2010, which popularized the concept of the “backfire effect”), the overwhelming majority of studies have found that fact checks do work — or at the very least, do no harm. Still, some pieces of misinformation are harder to fight than others. And this episode involving Trump has several qualities that may make Twitter’s “get the facts” approach not exactly effective.

First, there’s the source: Donald Trump. Trust him or doubt him, chances are you have an opinion of the president. And if you already trust him, who are you going to trust more in this particular disagreement? Trump? Or CNN and the Washington Post (the two sources Twitter listed in its fact check)?

But given Trump’s notoriety, his misstatements may just be harder to combat. In one of Porter and Wood’s experiments, they took an op-ed by Trump and issued a correction on two versions of the piece: one (correctly) attributed to Trump and one attributed to Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell. The authors found that the fact-check of McConnell moved significantly more respondents toward the accurate position than did the fact check of Trump.1

Next, there’s the fact that Twitter referenced articles from CNN and the Washington Post to correct the record. Research shows that an unlikely, surprising source for debunking misinformation, like a fellow Republican criticizing Trump, is just much more effective at making a correction stick than a more predictable and unsurprising source (like CNN or the Washington Post, both of which Trump has also cast as his enemies).

A Trump-supporting reader might take a closer look if told that Republican state officials in Idaho and Washington had complete confidence in the security of voting by mail, or that an exhaustive 17-month law enforcement inquiry into voter fraud in Florida, a state governed by fellow Republican Ron DeSantis, found no evidence of wrongdoing. This combination of surprise and credibility, in theory, would activate a closer look — the kind of attention required for mental updating.

And although Republicans en masse did not criticize Trump’s tweet that equated voting by mail with voter fraud, one recent example of a surprising debunk (and therefore, perhaps a maybe more effective fact check) is the Wall Street Journal’s editorial board’s take down of Trump’s allegation that cable news host Joe Scarborough was responsible for the death of a female staffer while he was a Republican congressman in Florida. The WSJ editorial board wrote that Trump’s suggestion “that the talk-show host is implicated in the woman’s death isn’t political hardball. It’s a smear.”

But fact-checking Trump is also further complicated by the fact that he is just really good at making memorable — if misleading or completely baseless — allegations. Remember Trump’s bizarre assertion that the hacker who released the DNC’s emails was not someone in Russia but instead “somebody sitting on their bed that weighs 400 pounds?” You probably do. It was a memorable, specific image, and catchy enough that “400poundhacker” briefly trended on Twitter. And as a memory expert will tell you, the more specific and outrageous the image, the more likely you are to remember it. This latest tweet was no exception. And this makes refuting Trump’s claim by simply dismissing it as “not true” especially ineffective. Political scientist Emily Thorson calls this phenomenon a “belief echo,” or the phenomenon that even when an idea is rejected as false, it can still continue to shape attitudes.

Think about someone like President Nixon saying “I’m not a crook” in response to the allegations that he oversaw a break-in at the Watergate Hotel to wiretap his political opponents. By refuting the allegation, he’s also repeating it, and therefore, making it more memorable. And the more evocative and colorful the original claim, the stronger the echo, Thorson finds, if the rejection also repeats the claim. “Unfortunately, this means that the times when we are most tempted to repeat misinformation — a horrifyingly inaccurate graph, an offensive comment in a debate — are also the times when it is most likely to create belief echoes,” Thorson wrote.

Rather than simply saying there is no evidence to support Trump’s claim that voting by mail will lead to widespread voter fraud, an effective fact check might offer an alternate explanation for why voting by mail doesn’t cause voter fraud. For instance, a good fact check could explain that many governors support voting-by-mail to protect vulnerable family members from getting sick from the coronavirus, not because they think it will benefit their party politically. Or it could detail all the specific measures governors are taking to ensure a secure process, like signature matching and ballot tracing.

But this brings us to perhaps the trickiest obstacles regarding effective corrections in this situation: partisanship and worldview. Research shows that people can easily incorporate new information — even if it’s inaccurate — as long as it fits in an existing worldview. Take Trump’s misstatement on voting by mail causing voter fraud. Even though there isn’t evidence to support this, it already fits within a preexisting narrative that many Republicans believe — that voter fraud is widespread and Democrats help perpetuate it. This is what makes the problem of combating misinformation so challenging.

When premises are familiar (e.g., Democrats perpetuate voter fraud), it’s easier to incorporate new information uncritically, especially when partisanship is involved. Partisans are typically much more receptive to any facts that make their side look good and any facts that make the other side look bad. Likewise, they’re likely to reject facts that make their side look bad and make the other side look good.

Practically, this has meant that as Democrats and Republicans have cocooned themselves in separate information streams, they’ve increasingly incorporated not only different worldviews, but also different sets of facts to support those worldviews. The more partisanship itself becomes an identity, the more intense this motivated reasoning has become.

But there is one thing that might make this particular correction effective: It was issued simultaneously with the misstatement. And research has shown that the most effective corrections are immediate responses. A team of researchers led by Nyhan recently found that “disputed” tags, like the one Twitter issued, successfully reduce belief in false stories on social media.

There’s a very real question, though, of how much these tech platforms should be controlling what we do — and don’t — see. Facebook, for instance, has taken a different approach than Twitter so far. Facebook founder and CEO Mark Zuckerberg criticized Twitter’s new policy, saying that, “I just believe strongly that Facebook shouldn’t be the arbiter of truth of everything that people say online.” Twitter and Facebook are also two of the very few places that both Democrats and Republicans turn to for news, even if their feeds rarely overlap.

Finally, even an effective fact check might not make the difference that policymakers are hoping for in political attitudes. While it’s possible for fact checks to shift beliefs, attitudes are much harder to change and much more resilient to fact checks.

In other words, even if some Twitter users now know that voting by mail doesn’t cause voter fraud, it’s unlikely that their attitudes about Trump will change, let alone their attitudes about voting by mail (they might find other reasons to oppose it, or still be concerned about the possibility of fraud, even if they don’t think it is widespread). After all, in our two-party system, it is still a tremendous leap for a Trump supporter to defect to voting for a Democrat. Fact-checking can help with updating and correcting prior knowledge, but breaking the hyper-partisanship that nurtures misinformation in the first place will require a whole lot more work.

But the more aggressively Twitter combats misinformation coming from Trump, the more it risks both the ire of the Trump administration and a potential loss of angered Republican users. A more comprehensive corrections department that fact checks all public figures (not just Trump) might allay some criticisms from the right that Twitter is biased against conservatives. But it would also cost money to employ more fact-checkers, and it might still disproportionately correct conservative voices if they do share more misleading information than liberals. If so, the information echo-chambers may fracture further, with liberals and conservatives seeking out their own platforms even more. That could make fact-checking even harder.

Social media companies will have to balance competing demands in deciding exactly how — and how much — they want to correct misinformation. The good news is that fact-checking does work. But the bad news is that it’s going to take a lot of concerted fact-checking efforts to make any difference — and even that might not be enough.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Lee Drutman

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