#without considering how it looks when you call a gay black man a woman and a white bisexual man a guy

[fayevalcntine]

Positioning Louis as the "Edwardian wife who becomes trapped by her husband" in a literal sense does no justice to analyzing his actual place and role as a Black man in his society and in his relationship with Lestat. Any interpretation or analysis you do of him when it comes to their relationship cannot be stripped of the racial aspect because it's constantly there. Texts analyzing Edwardian wives (and particularly ones this fandom loves to bring up) typically were white and the dissection of their place in societal rules are always viewed from the aspect of gender that is within these texts only allowed to white women, but never to Black men or even Black women. And gender and race become inseparable when you discuss the latter, no matter how people may view it.

This is why I can't take this approach to analyzing Louis' story seriously because if you don't consider the racial aspect in his relationship even to himself and his sexuality, what's the point? You're still centering the standards that were more placed upon white male/female couples than you're willing to look into the unique structure of Black families, religion, their view of homosexuality and how that sooner heavily influences Louis than the family's "need" for him to be sold off to an Edwardian husband. Even in Louis' own story, him and Claudia being Black is more centered on than any demeaning "housewife" comment he tries to go against from Claudia's perspective. She makes that comment once, whereas we have at least two episodes from Louis' perspective that have very blatant hints and showings of the racism he still suffers from under the Jim Crow era and how it affects his self-worth as well as his relationship with Lestat who doesn't seem to take into consideration how any of the blatant racial aggressions and objections still affect Louis and what he considers to be important to achieve in his own life.

Then there's also the pointed topic of Louis' position as a Black man who is a pimp to the Black women he has as sex workers, as well as how his position as a Black father affects Claudia, another Black girl. If you insist on Louis being centered as this "Edwardian white wife" who is confined by his implicit gender in his marriage, where does that leave Claudia and the blatant misogyny and disrespect she gets from both him and Lestat? Lestat who is her white father abuses her. Positioning Louis within the strict confines of "being her mother" doesn't do her any favors because he didn't hesitate to choke her when he was deeply emotionally distressed, nor does it make him look any better when he's fine with chopping up her diaries and then delivering them on a silver platter so that Daniel, another white man, can read and dissect. Even if he does this under the sole pretense of "doing right by her", how does it in any way help when he also can't face up to his failures towards her?

[littlemisssatanist]

on the topic of me being team green

a bit of a different post for me, considering what my blog is, but i was honestly so offended at being called a misogynist i made a fresh google docs page and typed out 1634 words of me ranting.

is there a real reason to post this? probably not, but i felt the need to establish myself as team green, considering all the posts i've been liking and commenting on lately. (if you are team green, and you see this, feel free to be my friend. in fact, i am begging you to be my friend. i have no tg friends and i need to see the light).

beware, typos and repitition are probably aplenty.

Whenever I see people talk about being TG, I always will see TB stans in the comments saying something along the lines of “Oh, you must be a misogynist, then.” And you know, it never happened to me until a few days ago when I commented on a TikTok post about Rhaenyra beefing with two-year-old Aegon. Someone replied to me, saying that I only brought it up because I’m a misogynist.

And. You know, I’ve been insulted before. I’ve been called ugly, stupid, immature, whatever whatever. But I honestly can’t think of a worse thing for someone to say to me, that I’m a misogynist. I know this isn’t that commentator’s fault, because they obviously don't know me. But the irony of calling me a misogynist when I am the most misandristic person to exist on this earth. I pray for the downfall of men daily. I make fun of them. Whenever I see an AITA post on TikTok, I am immediately on the woman’s side, regardless of what she may have done. 

It’s because I distrust men to a certain degree. You know what’s different for ASoIaF, though? It’s not real. It’s all fiction. TB stans will come on the internet daily and complain about TG existing, calling us misogynists, elevating the conflict between us to that of a literal genocide. Are y'all delusional? Are you guys stuck so far up Rhaenyra’s ass that you can’t tell reality from fiction? 

Y’all love to preach about how Rhaenyra is the number one feminist girlboss of Westeros, without realizing exactly how exactly you’re falling into the trap. You uphold a woman because she’s the heir, meanwhile she steals Rhaena’s and Baela’s inheritance in order to put her illegitimate sons on the throne (which, btw, is treason). But of course you guys wouldn’t care, because you like to think Rhaenyra is the exception to the rule.

That’s the thing. She’s only the exception because of her father, the king. After Viserys dies, she suddenly finds herself back in the same patriarchal world that y’all love to claim she’s trying to overthrow, that she’s trying to change. 

I don’t hate Rhaenyra because she’s a woman. I hate her because she’s a stupid woman. She knew exactly what it meant to be a woman in Westeros; she gets forced into an unwanted marriage (and even in that she gets far more freedom and will to choose than other women), she is undermined for being a woman, and others view her as unfit to rule. I would sympathize with her if she did absolutely anything to change that whatsoever. 

Y’all love to say that she’s so iconic with her dragon scenes, but what did that really accomplish aside from showcasing she is unfit to rule? She has three illegitimate sons who look absolutely nothing like her. Even if Viserys was on her side, everyone knows that they are bastards. Like, at least Cersei’s bastards looked like her. Rhaenyra was a white woman with white hair married to a black man with white hair, and her first three children are white boys with brown hair. Girl, if you were going to have bastards, at least do it with someone that bears at least some resemblance to your husband, or yourself. She purposefully made it harder for herself.

And for those of you guys who will bring up something about Laenor being gay. I genuinely don’t know how to tell you this, but if they truly cared about keeping up appearances, they would have had children. I say this as a queer person myself: If I were in Laenor’s shoes, I would have children with my coverup. Afterall, that’s what a coverup is for. And also: I could find nothing about Laenor being infertile. 

And for those who will also bring up Laenor accepting the Strong boys as his own, I literally couldn't care less. Everyone and their grandmother could see that those boys were bastards. Laenor accepting them and Viserys being delusional doesn’t change the fact that they were illegitimate, and everybody knew it. Secondly: Rhaenyra would need to admit the boys were bastards in the first place for anybody to claim them, something she did not do. In fact, she went so far the opposite way, I wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to delude herself that they were legitimate. 

And this I don’t understand. How do you shoot yourself in the foot, not once, not twice, but three times, with three obvious bastards, knowing that people would oppose you, people already oppose you, and still think yourself fit to rule? Every decision Rhaenyra makes is so stupid, it’s almost mind blowing to me. To live in Dragonstone for years while your father, the king, is sick (in which case, btw, the heir is supposed to step in to rule). Instead, we see Alicent ruling the kingdoms from behind the shadow, because Rhaenyra does nothing but live out a couple of years of bliss and comes back to King's Landing expecting everything to be handed to her. She does absolutely no politicking, absolutely nothing in order to sway the lords to her side. Should she be so surprised, then, that she is met with such resistance? 

Y’all TB stands love to call TG misogynistic because we don’t worship your perfect little dragon lady, as if her uncle-husband isn’t Lord of Fleabottom and grooms and rapes her from a young age. As if Daemon hasn’t called women whores and bitches, and his first wife, Rhea Royce, ‘Bronze Bitch.’ Like, is that not disgusting to you? Y’all love to preach about how Daemon loved Rhaenyra, as if he didn’t choke her the moment she disagreed with his methods. As if his first instinct everytime is anger and death and war.

(In case y’all couldn’t tell, I am extremely anti-war. I am under the impression that if you can’t solve things by talking it out, then you are definitely not mature enough to be ruling a kingdom, and Daemon is one of the most immature rapist misogynists I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing).

(As an aside, I am not blaming Rhaenyra for her relationship with Daemon. Yes, I do find that most of her actions are stupid, but I cannot deny the fact that she was groomed and raped by him-- yes, raped, because she was a child, and children cannot consent. That is in no way her fault, and Daemon is the one responsible for this).

Y’all praise Rhaenyra for her maternal instincts while simultaneously hating Alicent for hers. Of course, an eye for an eye is unreasonable and far too much, but a son for a son is totally reasonable and to be expected. Rhaenyra protecting her children is being a good mother, but Alicent (rightfully) assuming that her children would be persecuted if Rhaenyra ascended the throne is her being a jealous bitch. Y’all blow her “sweet sister” line so much out of proportion, saying that she wouldn’t have killed her siblings if they just came over to her side. As if Alicent’s children, Alicent’s family, would choose Rhaenyra over her. Because “Helaena was the only good green” and “if only she just joined Rhaenyra”. Why would she ever do that? Because Aegon was a bad husband? The show literally stated that he only ever laid with her when he was drunk, because he couldn't do it otherwise. Obviously neither of them sought any pleasure from it, but they are still family. Helaena only had Aemond, Aegon, Daeron, and Alicent. Why would Rhaenyra ever be worth what her family is worth to her?

On a similar note, TB stans will constantly say how “oh, I feel sorry for younger Alicent, but not older Alicent.” As if Alicent wasn’t a 14 year old girl groomed and abused, as if she wasn’t twice pregnant by 17. As if Alicent wasn’t a victim doing her best in a world specifically designed against her.

That’s the difference between her and Rhaenyra. Both were victims to a much older man, but Rhaenyra considered herself an exception. Alicent had no choice but to be the bad guy, and despite how much y’all love to ignore it, Rhaenyra should have done the same. “Oh but Alicent was jealous of Rhaenyra!” Like you wouldn’t also be jealous of Rhaenyra? Rhaenyra, the perfect little princess, loved by her rapist daddy the king, who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. Would you not also be infuriated by her attitude, the entitled way she views the world? I’m sorry, but if your “strong female character” needs every other female character to agree with her, then she’s not that strong. Or a girlboss.

In conclusion, Rhaenyra sucks and is a terrible role model. True feminists love Alicent Hightower. Also, negative comments will be deleted, bc yk what is so fun about the internet? You can block people. I know, crazy concept. If you don’t want to see me or other TG on your for you page, consider blocking them. That tends to get rid of the thing you don’t want to see. I will also be doing this to anyone who thinks they’re smart enough to argue this topic with me. I do not care, hope your day goes terribly. <3

Btw, please never call me a misogynist again. In fact, you can call me Little Miss Misandrist, because there is no universe out there where I side with a man over Alicent Hightower. Or any woman at all, for that matter. 

(Except for maybe if the pickings were between Rhaenyra and Criston. If you’re one of the media illiterate TB stands who consider Criston to be an incel, you should also go ahead and block me, your stupidness is draining my brain cells).

Stay mad, xoxo.

[sgstories123]

It all started with a pack of Marlboro

It was almost midnight when Ryan walked out of the MRT station. There were so many overtime work this month. He was tired but happy that he is going to get some extra cash. Maybe he will take a short trip to Bangkok. He missed the girls there. The last time he went there was almost 3 years ago before the COVID pandemic.

As he walked towards his HDB flat, he went inside a 7-11 to buy a can of beer and some snacks to reward himself for his hard work. He spotted a young Malay couple outside the store through the glass panels. He had seen both of them several times this last couple of weeks. Both of them were young, in their early twenties at most. The man was tall and thin, often wearing black t-shirts with loud, garish pictures of metal bands.

Ryan was more interested in the woman though. She was slightly rounded but considering the size of her breasts and ass, she was well-proportioned. Like most of the times that he had seen her, today, she was wearing another tight tube top, her cleavage showing clearly. She had on a short, black skirt today, with black stockings and red heels. It reminded Ryan of street walkers often depicted on old Hollywood movies.

As he paid for his food, he started whistling “Pretty woman, walking down the street…”

He pushed open the door to the convenience store and was about to walk off when he heard someone calling out to him.

“Abang! Can help?” The Malay man asked.

“What is it?” Ryan turned to him. The Malay man had a cute, boyish type of face. This type of boyband material breaks many hearts, Ryan thought to himself.

The Malay man looked around furtively before pushing two ten-dollar bills into Ryan’s hands. “Help me buy a pack of Marlboro, can?”

Ryan looked around. There was no one to be seen. He sighed. It was much easier during his time when he wanted a smoke. Now the laws are so strict that he pitied the young man. He took the money and went into the 7-11 again. The cashier looked at him suspiciously, obviously aware of what was happening. Ryan simply ignored him.

Walking out of the 7-11 a second time, he passed the cigarettes and change to the Malay man.

“Thanks, Abang.” The Malay man started tapping the cigarettes pack hard onto his palm, before opening up the pack. He lit a cigarette, and sucked on it slowly, enjoying himself.

Ryan was watching the Malay woman instead. She had thick luscious lips and smooth, dark skin. An image of those thick lips on his cock sprang to his mind, his cock suddenly hard and uncomfortable in his jeans.

“She quite pretty, right?” The Malay man grinned when he caught Ryan staring at his girlfriend.

“Yeah. You are such a lucky guy.” Ryan tried to be nonchalant.

“Look at those lips. She is a damn good kisser.” The Malay man continued, drawing another round of air through his cigarettes. “She is even better with her blowjob. Cannot tahan. You want to cum immediately inside her mouth.”

Ryan cursed the man inwardly. This dirty talk is only fuelling all sorts of images in his mind and his cock was hurting, begging for release from his jeans.

“Yeah. Good for you then.” Ryan muttered. “Have fun. I gotta go.” He needed to reach his home quickly.

“Abang. You help me, I help you. How about $50 for a blow job? Discount for you because you nice guy.” The Malay man pulled Ryan back.

“Thanks. I not gay. I don’t need blowjobs from you.”

The Malay man laughed. “Sorry. I meant she gives you the blowjob.” The man shoved a thumb in the woman’s direction.

Ryan’s interest was piqued. “$50? You sure?”

The Malay man looked around and pointed to the staircase in a nearby block of flats. “Follow me.”

Ryan followed the Malay man with the woman walking slowly behind. Throughout, the woman did not say a word, seemingly oblivious to the whole discussion.

They walked up a flight of stairs, at the landing between the ground and second floors. Ryan fished out a $50 bill to the man and without another word, the woman knelt in front of Ryan, slowly stroking his hard cock through his jeans. It seems that this is not the first time that she is doing this.

Ryan’s cock was hurting so much that he did not really care for foreplay. He unzipped his jeans and pulled down his briefs. His hard cock sprang up, finally released from its prison. The woman took in his whole length in a practiced move, twitching her head slightly to align with the angle of his cock. Ryan sighed in pleasure. The thick lips enveloped his cock warmly. As her lips moved along the length of his cock, they left a trail of warm saliva, like footprints in the sand. She was not shy, like some of the other women who had given Ryan’s blowjobs, taking bits of his cock at a time. She simply swallowed it whole, his cock hitting the back of her throat on its first entry. Ryan held on to her head as she sucked on his cock expertly. The boyfriend was right. She was really good. His cock was begging for release, his muscles in his ass clenching tightly, trying desperately to last longer and prolong his pleasure.

“Stop for a while. I need to sit down.” Ryan pushed the woman off his hard cock. Her saliva was glistening on his cock, dripping down and darkening the cement floor. He sat down on the stairs, two steps up from the landing, catching his breath. His cock was quivering in anger. It wanted to be back in the warm mouth. Perhaps the woman understood his cock better than he did. She crawled over on her hands and knees. Holding his waist for support with one hand, she leaned forwards. With her other hand, she grabbed Ryan’s hard cock and guided into her mouth again. Ryan surrendered to the pleasure. He could not fight it any more. His $50 is going way too fast.

The Malay man grinned and walked behind the woman. He lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties. He licked his fingers and pushed it into her pussy. The woman flinched momentarily but continued sucking on Ryan’s cock. Man, this is one professional cock sucker, Ryan thought to himself. He patted the woman���s head, giving his approval to her professionalism.

The man then dropped his pants and revealed his erect cock. It was long and thick. As the man was rather skinny and with a boyish face, his large cock seemed to be disproportionally large. God was unfair, Ryan thought. Good looks and large cock. Everyone’s wet dream.

The man spit on his cock, lubricating it quickly before pushing it into the woman’s pussy. This time, the woman could not remain passive. She paused, moaning softly as the man’s large cock entered her. Ryan could feel her arms hugging him even more tightly for support as she arched upwards to allow the man to enter her even more deeply. But she only took a moment for her own enjoyment. She returned quickly to her task, sucking Ryan’s cock even more deeply. She seemed to be enjoying herself even more now. Her breath was interspersed with grunts of pleasure.

Above the soft groans of pleasure emanating from the three of them, Ryan heard several loud voices. It was coming from a group of people walking along the void deck below them. Ryan heaved a sigh of relief when the group walked away. There was a small chance that this was their block of flats and they have decided to use the stairs. Be healthy, take the stairs. That was one of the government’s latest campaign.

The danger passed and he relaxed. Without focusing on holding back, the floodgates opened and he released everything that he had been holding back into the woman’s mouth. He jerked forward uncontrollably, holding onto the woman’s head to prolong his pleasure. The man was ejaculating too. He gave several hard thrusts, squeezing the woman between the two of them. Ryan laid back on the hard stairs, exhausted but plainly satisfied. The woman was must have swallowed his cum because she was now licking his cock clean. Gosh, she was really professional. The man sat next to the woman, smiling at Ryan.

“Wah, not bad. You last quite long leh.” He pulled the woman upwards, giving her a kiss on her cum-drenched lips. Looking at Ryan again, he commented “And your cock also quite nice.” Without another word, he leaned downwards, licking Ryan’s cock, taking over from the woman.

Ryan’s cock sprang alive, harder than ever before. He knew he was not gay but the man was even a better than the woman. A moan escaped from him.

“Round 2? I won’t charge you for it.” The man winked at Ryan.

[olderthannetfic]

This isn't fandom related, but tumblr's inability to even imply that men suck is driving me up the wall. Guys, you don't become a TERF so hardcore that it makes JKR pale in comparison if you just say men make your life harder sometimes. You aren't the CEO of all radfem because you forget to mention that women can be shitty too sometimes, in a post where you're complaining about men

Like if I wanted to hear about how all women are treacherous snakes looking to ruin innocent men's lives and how all men are innocent beings who are being Tainted by those Nasty Womenz, I'd hit up MRA reddit or just go to a family gathering and bring up catcalling

(and also the notion that women are somehow always believed when they talk about the assault they face. Again, go to a family gathering and bring up how a guy snuck a camera under your skirt while you were waiting for the bus)

There definitely things that ARE inherent to men. It's okay to admit that. Just like how white woman guilt is a thing inherent to white women. It's a unique thing that white women can specifically exercise to invoke violence against black men*.

Similarly, you should be able to discuss workplace sexism without people showing up in your mentions like "actually the men who act like women are lesser beings are just dumb socially awkward creatures who never got exposed to those mythical creatures known as women" and "actually some women call men sissies if they're not buff hypermasculine guys who eat raw beef, so really, who's the oppressed one here"

* you know how I mentioned that women usually aren't believed in when they talk about their experience? It's not hard to notice that they conveniently only happen to be believed if believing them would further an agenda. See the difference when a cis white man is harassing a cis woman VS when a black man or a trans woman is existing in the general direction of a cis woman? But also brother, being selectively believed as long as it furthers somebody's agenda is NOT fucking privilege

(and also how women sometimes lean on in their woman-ness to make people sympathize with them (again, white woman tears, as well as learned helplessness), but like. You don't see those people who like to routinely point that out to undermine any discussion about sexism/misogyny pop up under queer rights posts and be like "well some cis gay men actively side with the republicans and some cis lesbians are hardcore terfs, so have you considered that the queer rights movement is kinda a sham?")

--

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Andrew Ford was questioned and fetishized when he came out as bisexual. The gay community insisted he wasn’t being honest with himself; women at clubs started to excitedly fantasize about hooking up with two guys at the same time.

All the while, the soccer standout stayed true to himself. Ford came out his freshman year at Malone University, a small Christian liberal arts college in Canton, Ohio — home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. His friends and teammates were accepting, which was an incredible relief. But his journey into the LGBTQ community was a little more rocky.

“I got a lot of pressure from the gay community,” Ford told me recently on the phone. “I felt like I was misunderstood, and didn’t know who I was.”

Ford is one of an increasing number of openly bisexual college-aged athletes whom we’ve profiled recently on Outsports. Despite some surveys showing more Americans identify as bisexual than either gay or lesbian, there is a dearth of bi visibility in pop culture and sports.

As bi sportswriter Jeff Rueter challenged me: “name a bisexual man, and don’t say Frank Ocean.”

These kick-ass kids are going to change that.

Biphobia is real

Let’s start here: Biphobia is real. It manifests itself in gestures as seemingly fleeting as dismissive jokes, and actions as harrowing as outright physical violence. Bisexual people typically suffer significantly higher rates of depression and anxiety, domestic violence, sexual assault, and poverty than lesbians, gay men, or straight cisgender people, according to the Human Rights Campaign.

A black-and-white society, most of us grow up with the notion people are either straight or gay. Those attitudes have historically prevailed in the LGBTQ community, too.

Alex Keuroghlian, the Director of the National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center at the Fenway Institute, says bisexual people can be looked at skeptically.

“Within LGBTQIA+ communities, there has historically been a stigma toward bisexual people, and the false notion that they’re really gay and lesbian people who haven’t accepted that about themselves,” he said.

Megan Duthart, a rower at Washington State University who identifies as both bi and queer, has experienced the stigma first-hand. She says she thinks bisexual people are often excluded in the LGBTQ community.

“I’ve struggled a little bit with being identified as an ‘other’ in the community with the term ‘bisexuality,’” she said.

Why are bi people targeted for erasure?

More people are identifying as bisexual. Over three percent of U.S. adults say they’re bi, according to the 2018 General Social Survey. That’s three times the number as 2008.

And yet, bi people are still targeted for erasure. One of the ways it happens is through language. When people see same-sex couples, for example, they may be inclined to label them as “gay” or “lesbian,” without considering that one or both of the people could identity as bi.

While Americans’ attitudes about sexuality are evolving, many still adhere to more binary definitions of sexual orientation. A recent YouGov poll found 41 percent of American adults don’t think sexuality is a spectrum (conversely, 37 percent think it is).

As Ford puts it, bisexuality is stereotypically viewed as “the stepping stone stage.” That ties into one of the more insidious aspects of bi-erasure: the belief that it’s just a phase. It’s a line Ford recalls hearing many times, from both men and women.

“(Gay men) said, ‘I came out as bisexual first. It’s just a phase, you won’t be there long,’” Ford said. “I was also scared how women would think about it. They wanted to change me. Some of them wanted to use it as a thrill they were seeking.”

When professional hockey player Zach Sullivan came out as bi, his father told him it meant he was still making up his mind.

“I remember what my dad said when I told him,” Sullivan said. “‘Well, you aren’t all the way there. You haven’t really decided.’ I was like, ‘no, I know I’m attracted to both genders. I’m not halfway towards coming out as gay.’”

The bi burden

Every LGBTQ person can relate to the fear and anxiety of coming out. But for most of us, once we do it, it’s over.

That’s not the case for bi people.

“We have to keep coming out to our significant others, whether it’s a man or a woman,” Ford said. “If you’re gay and you start dating a gay, you’re not going to be like, ‘I have to tell you something: I’m gay.’ They’re going to be like, ‘no shit.’”

And once bi people do come out, they could get charged with being greedy — the sexual equivalent of having their cake and eating it, too. The insult angers Sullivan.

“The majority of people in the LGBT+ community have struggled with their sexuality, and when they finally become comfortable enough to come out in the open with their sexuality, I don’t think the first thing to say to someone who’s come out as bisexual is they’re greedy,” Sullivan said. “I took over 10 years to get to where I am.”

Duthart finds the concept of bisexuality can be difficult to explain. She largely identifies as queer.

“I’ve had coaches question whether I’m rebelling or going through a phase,” she said. “Then when I explain the whole queer aspect, they’re like, ‘Oh, OK. That seems more justified.’ I don’t want to have to justify those things, but I sort of have to.”

Changing attitudes

Jack Storrs came out as bisexual last year as a college football captain. His teammates at Pomona-Pitzer rallied around him, and wore Pride decals on their helmets.

But even some who were supportive suggested he was on his way to identifying as gay. Storrs said he couldn’t hide his feelings for men anymore, and came out because he wanted to explore.

Maybe he was gay, maybe he wasn’t. The questions didn't bother him. He was a relieved to have the dialogue.

“It was killing me on the inside,” Storrs said. “It got to the point where I was like, ‘screw it.’ This is who I am, and this was meant to be.”

Nowadays, Storrs says he’s more towards the “gay end of the spectrum,” and expects the fluidity to continue.

He’s cool with that, and numbers show his peers are, too. Generation Z is among the most progressive and diverse in U.S. history. A 2018 study from Ipsos Mori shows only 66 percent of young people today identify exclusively as heterosexual.

Young people have a better understanding of how sexuality can evolve, says Keuroghlian.

“There’s been less of a reflex to box people in, and categorize people in ways that could be static,” he said. “A key part of all of this is not projecting behavior or projecting attraction. People tell us — they self-identify that’s who they are. And we have to honor that.”

Visibility challenges misperceptions

But to get back to Rueter’s question: can you name a famous out bisexual person besides Frank Ocean?

It’s challenging, and the lack of bi visibility may be one of the biggest contributors towards bi-erasure. But that is changing. Each person who comes out as bisexual has the ability to change perceptions within their own communities — and many young athletes are.

Bri Tollie, a bisexual college basketball player at Southern Methodist University, wrote in her coming-out story she refuses to conform.

“It is important to be visible because everyone is unique,” she wrote. “Our uniqueness means no one should not have to give up a part of themselves to conform. It is called self-respect.”

Growing up, Storrs tried to shut off his attraction to guys. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but the angst became all-encompassing.

Storrs is done hiding any part of himself. He did that for far too long, and is now out for all to see.

“I am bisexual, and my point is, I don’t really give a shit what anybody else thinks,” Storrs said. “This is who I am, and I don’t have to figure it out, but the reason I’m coming out is to figure it out, or at least get to a point where I’m comfortable.”

With their stories, these young bi athletes are making it more comfortable for bi people every single day.

[pokesplendor]

rosa’s team from sword as gijinka! info about them beneath the cut.

Ella - Cinderace - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 21

Ella is full of joy and life, she’s smiles and cheer, she’s happy to be here! A young soccer pro drafted into League battling for her fiery passion and clear leadership potential. She has a natural charisma about her that brings people together and execute plans correctly, as evidenced by her time on the field. She stayed briefly in the Champion’s guard, where she met Graves as a Sobble, and the two became friends, despite being from different walks of life. That’s Ella for you, making friends wherever she goes, and that is a pervasive fact through her journey for the league. Of course, she never expected to have to face down a God like Eternatus, but she didn’t let that stop her.

Besides soccer, she’s passionate about cooking and loves to fire up the stove with curry! She’s all about that curry! She’s also always down for some pre-dinner stretching, some pre-dinner fighting, just a little brawling here or there. She never thought she’d be so into competitive battle, but there’s something intoxicating about it she can’t resist. She feels like she can make friends through an exchange of fists!

Ella just loves making friends, exchanging numbers, becoming pen pals, it’s all so fun! She didn’t expect to find those she considers her family through her journey but here she is! Thomasin is her best pal, she might even consider her a sister! And where would she be without Connie, she’s been there the longest. Sometimes she steals Connie’s hand to hold, and other times, she steals her lips.

Connie - Sandaconda - they/she - queer Mexican-Japanese - nonbinary woman - age 30

Connie is a sleepy individual. They’re always in a bit of a haze, like they just didn’t get enough sleep, or maybe they got too much sleep and they can’t snap out of it. They just love naps! Is that such a problem? Their manager certainly seemed to think so. Connie is an accomplished model who would often sneak off to the wilderness to camp for a few days at a time to get away from the busy city. This is how they met Ella and were swept into a gym challenge. They didn’t expect to like it, but you know, if you have to be awake, they don't mind giving a deserving individual a good bop. Their striking gaze sent shivers down the enemies spine, assisting a great deal in a tough spot.

As stated, Connie is a model, and being a model means you have a lot of responsibilities that you can completely ignore and run off at the drop of a hat to do whatever you please. Their manager is not too fond of them, but they can’t find it in their heart to care. They do care about the fashion they have to wear, it’s been their dream job since they were little to wear the fanciest clothes you can. They’re good at their job, they’re good at looking pretty in nice clothes, and that’s how they keep it.

They love the friends they’ve made along the way, Thomasin is always stubbornly trying to knock them off balance and prove herself superior, but it’s all good fun. And they quite enjoys Sybil’s attempts at music. And Minerva and Ella’s combined efforts to produce excellent cooking! Oh, Ella, she’s a darling, isn’t she. Connie is smitten with her, that’s for sure.

Matilda - Hatterene - she/they - lesbian Japanese - nonbinary - age 27

Matilda is a witch from the swampy areas in the Glimmwood Tangle. She would happily live there for the rest of her life and not interact with other people if necessary, but she unfortunately happened to leave the safety of her bog for family reasons (if she had a choice she never would have, but ugh, relatives), and during that time, ran into Ella and the gang, who excitedly recruited her to their great quest across the land. At first, she only intended to be along for the ride back to the Glimmwood Tangle, but for reasons she’d never admit to, she stuck around.

She is a calm, collected individual, keeping her emotions in check constantly and disgusted by those who freely express themselves for the world to be known. Little known to others, her emotions bubble beneath the surface, and if pushed too far, they boil over and she gets extremely overwhelmed and unable to control herself. Not that she lets that happen ever (often). She mostly deals in potions of various uses, and magics that stir nature in a pot to boil much like her emotions.

Matilda isn’t looking for anyone to date, she isn’t looking for friends, she isn’t looking for anyone at all. Especially men. Stereotypical mean man-hating lesbian right here. She’d never admit she has feelings for Ella (the feeling is friendship) and wishes Sybil will just leave her alone (she gets flustered.)

Sybil - Toxicitry - she/her - bi White - trans woman - age 20

Look out, here’s team baby! And she’s loud, she’s proud, she’s here to rock and roll! And, oh, that didn’t rhyme, did it? She’s working on that, she swears. From a family of successful doctors and midwives, she had big dreams to get out of babysitting newborns, and get out there and get her voice heard! She wants to rock people’s faces off with her awesome guitar solos! Granted, she’s not that good at guitar, she’s better on base, and she’s not the best at singing, but she swears she has sick lyrics. When Ella’s group stopped at her family’s nursery, she could tell there was greatness on its way up, and she figured she could ride it to success!

Sybil can be very explosive about her interests, launching into long spirals of talking, one topic to the next, she can’t control herself. She’s autistic and she just wants you to know! Things she likes! That’s not bad, right? She never stops to ask if they want her to stop, she really can let it get away from her. It’s fine though, her new group of friends are so supportive! More than her family had been, she’d even venture to call this new group more family than she’d known.

She gets along real well with Ella, the two can be seen playing ball or sparring at any given time, gotta keep up with them gains! And when running into Graves’ group, she’s in talks with Thrasher to start a band together! And then there’s Matilda, she once witnessed her emotions boil over and it was so cute she just has to see it again. Sybil can be a little menace.

Minerva - Appletun - she/they - lesbian White - trans woman - age 45

Minerva certainly isn’t old enough to be considered a grandma, but she is, actually, a grandma. She’s got a few kids from back in the day before she transitioned, and those kids had a few more kids, and here she is, grandmother at a young age. What this means to say is she’s definitely team mom when it comes to Ella’s group. She’s surrounded by children nearly the age of her own, and someone’s got to mother them! She ran into the group when they were visiting the nursery with her newest grandchild, and what was a small agreement to help with the upcoming gym turned into an adventure she didn’t expect! She never traveled when she was younger and found she loved it.

She also loved the kids that came along with it. She loved feeding them especially. Ella was a little prodigy with food, and Minerva just wanted to feed that flame and love of food. Minerva loves food, she’s a cook by trade and she loves filling a meal with love. Other than that, she collects old books, out of print editions, and keeps them in her sturdy little home up by Circhester. She was content being alone for so long, long distant contact with her children, she didn’t expect to need company.

But that company she definitely had. She found an old soul resonating with her in Iosefka, the two oldest of the group, the old Frosmoth always seemed to have just the right ingredients for her stews. Something stewed between the two of them, there’s for sure. She also enjoyed running into Graves’ group and meeting Grevious, a fellow designated mom.

Iosefka - Frosmoth - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 48

Iosefka was but a simple traveling merchant. She’d seen all shades of Galar over the years, seeing it’s darkest underbelly, to its brightest sun shining peaks, and she loves her home region with all her heart despite knowing there’s some people that it would be better without. But she’s not one to comment on that, not unless asked, after all, she’s just an unassuming merchant here to stock you up for the road and not give her opinion, heavens no! So wasn’t it so surprising that she was absolutely swept up from her solitary traveling live into Ella’s little group, something about the little girl was just so charming, she wanted to see where her journey took her.

She loves collecting the rarest of the rare, the sweetest of delicacies, there’s nothing better than traveling to a little unknown spot to get the hardest to find ingredients growing where you might not expect them, and roll into town and being overwhelmed with the local restaurants vying for her samples. She’s not opposed to finding shiny things as well, but something about food, it entices her. She loves providing for a good meal. She’s a bit of a shit cook though.

Iosefka isn’t exactly guarded with her feelings, but she’s not open either; it comes with being a merchant, she gets her feelings across in a sly sort of way. But she’s found a family with Ella’s group, a place she doesn’t have to hide her blunt rudeness. And in traveling, found new love with Minerva. The two are quite a pair of old gays.

Thomasin - Dubwool - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 23

The first to be recruited to the great quest across Galar in hopes of taking the Championship title, Thomasin is exactly what you’d expect of the league battler. She trained for years hoping to get picked up by someone in the circuit and show off her skills. She’s always down to fight and dominate in the field, and prove her worth. Not that her worth needed to be proven to Ella, who was happy to accept someone so eager. Even happier to call her a friend! Thomasin felt kinship with her right away and the two set off with pure confidence. She didn’t shy away from a League fight, and she certainly didn’t show fear when facing down a god.

Outside of battling, she (secretly) is a dedicated poet and songstress. She can’t sing, but she loves writing music and ballads, about grand adventures of pirates, and heaty thrists between ever gallant knights and fair princesses in the midst of complicated politics. She’s been working on her magnum opus for quite some time, an epic combining all her favorite things to write about… in that it’s still a work in progress. She’s got the characters, the world, she just doesn’t know how they fit together!

Thomasin and Ella are nearly inseparable, they’re always running around, full of energy and love and they can tumble down in the grass covered in stains and laughing without a problem. She lets Sybil in on their love, the three youngest getting along swell. And she won’t lie, she is slightly interested in Maverick from Graves’ team. (She just might have a thing for knights.)

[eve6262]

some rhaast thoughts

There’s nothing worse than silence. It’s a slow killer, infecting your mind like a parasite, nibbling away at the edges of your mind until it gets to the center and you think, wait a minute, isn’t something wrong? Not silence as in the absence of sound, mind; the absence of everything. An abyss, of nothing created by nothing for nothing. Nothing, a perfect 0 that loops like a circle, without even the slight oval dimensions the number usually holds. A 0 shaped like an O. Silence.

It was that, for a long, long while. And then Kayn picked him up, and life has been very loud.

Loud- colors, sounds, a battle- is overwhelming after a perfect silence for so long. Initially he was hurt, wincing every time another light broke its way into his vision, but he didn’t dare complain or show weakness because then he might be thrown back into that silence prison, and all he needed was time, surely.

Time passed, and now he’s used to it. The colors aren’t so sharp anymore, the world isn’t so fast, Kayn isn’t so strange and loud.

“Good morning,” he says to his scythe, brushing his hair while the thing rests on his lap.

Good morning, Rhaast replies, idly watching the mess on his head turn into a sleek black waterfall. It has taken them an eternity and a day to reach this point, seven strange conversations, three days spent melodramatically ignoring everyone else, five hours of betrayal, a minute to murder the people who used to live here. A man and a woman, relation unknown and unimportant, because for now this is Kayn and Rhaast’s house and they are confident the Kinkou will not chase them this far. The daybreak proves it, as there’s not a soul nearby.

Well, there are souls, but none of them living. Ionia is a strange country.

There is, admittedly, one small problem. Zed could and might follow them, try to address this himself. Kayn, he can feel, fears the man, though for different reasons than Rhaast. He thinks that Zed could defeat him, or manage to confiscate the scythe and force him never to stay together again, or perhaps kill him on the spot; but his scythe knows better than that, knows that the leader of the Kinkou is nothing but a coward and an idiot who relies on the shadows that do not love him. The shadows would despise him, no longer grant him his wishes, if only their Queen was awake.

Is that a true story? Did he make that up in the void of nothing, or is it a distant memory that got eaten by time?

His breakfast today looks alright. A mess of rations he had smuggled away, taken with him when they fled, plus whatever they found in the little abandoned house in the forest. Some fresh bread, meats strung up, eggs freshly harvested from the wildlife, considering the lack of a coop. “Better than I expected.”

Of course. They weren’t exactly expecting to die.

“With how old they were? They should have.”

Usually there’s jabs and nonsense and idle conversation with these two, never a dull moment. But now, instead, they’ve found a comfortable silence- and isn’t that funny, the thing he used to abhor- to rest in. Will it eat at the edges of his mind again, until he forgets slowly even the life before this, with Zed and the Kinkou and some nonsensical fight for power when, really, they’re at their strongest as a team?

There are so many stories in the edges of his mind that he can’t figure out the veracity of. Is is true that there was once a reigning emperor of the sands with feathers and a commanding voice and a penchant for men? Or maybe the tales of the Elderwood, a forest not dissimilar to Ionian magic but with gods sealed below the size of mountains and with the power of Targon combined? Surely the Aspects of Moon and Sun have changed- are they still lovers? Surely the Aspect of War has changed- are they still a peaceful tactician who prefers the strategy of war to its more bloody parts?

Was any of that ever true? Are there parts he’s missing, parts he’s added? He knows, mostly, three things: Kayn is with him, Zed could find them, and he has a brother named Aatrox.

Everything else seems to be triggered by happenstance. For example, once, on a trip that led them to the mountains, they met a child with longer hair than their body that faded into the different colors of the sky and he knew, right then, right there, that the old Aspect of Twilight had died, and this new one was named Zoe and that she was very, very annoying. Somewhere else- the location he’s fuzzy on- they met a darkin with a bow and he recognized Varus and called out and his brethren responded “Oh, you’re gay too?”

His brother would have slain that man in twain. Kayn, assuming the darkin was talking to him, responded, “Who cares?”

Secretly, Rhaast thinks Zed would have hated him for it. He seems like the type. Maybe he’s just never “understood” that sort of attraction, or maybe he has an age-old crush on a friend that he pretends doesn’t exist by pretending it can’t be true. Perhaps both, in a way and form, where that interest went unexplored and misunderstood and pushed away.

“Rhaast.”

Yes?

“Did you not hear me?”

No. Say it again.

“Honestly.” He sighs, rolling his eyes. “I was asking you what you want to do.”

Why?

“Why?...I...”

Don’t have anywhere to go, huh.

“Don’t say that.”

Not in a bad way. But no direction.

“Yes, I do. I want Noxus to fall. But I’m not doing that alone, and not now, so.”

He thinks for a moment, then responds. Shurima.

“Why Shurima?”

I want to see what’s left of Azir.

“Who the hell is- ...you know what? Sure. Shurima it is.”

--

thought I wanted to write ship. turns out I just wanted to do Rhaast character studies. (also, the line about Azir liking men is a hc of mine that you can interpret as false or true)

~Eve6262

[ktheist]

you can sit with us. | m

pairings. taehyung x reader x jungkook

genre. slice of life

words. 5.7k

warnings. explicit content, semi-public sex, threesome (obviously), everyone’s a switch at this point, but top!jungkook, big dick!tae, big dick!jungkook, discussions of sexuality

synopsis. the person frowns, confusion clearly painted on his face, “how can you be dating two people at once and those two people date each other while dating you?”

“it’s cause we’re a thruple - like a couple but with three people.”

x

the first time you met jeon jungkook and kim taehyung was at a bar downtown. you’d bumped into the tall, dark haired man at the bar who was in the middle of turning around after what seemed to be a reminder for the bartender to serve him and his companion at “table 6.”

“oh sorry,” you find yourself saying to a broad chest before letting your eyes travel up past the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple and finally his beautiful, mesmerizing eyes but it was the sweet, tender smile that gets you clenching your hands together in hopes to stop them from coming up to fan yourself, “oh there you are! wow, you’re tall!”

the sound of his chuckle was music to your ears, “i get that a lot - have a good one,” with a good natured nod and a parting farewell, he disappeared into the crowd.

you knocked on the counter, fixing the bartender a smile, “hi,” your half buzzed smile dragged out the word into something that might or might be interpreted the wrong way, especially considering where you were but when she smirked at you, you knew this one was going to be on the house, “oh, your teeth are so pretty!”

“thanks, baby, what can i get you?” as self-assured as she was, she still steered the conversation back to the reason you’re there, butt half sitting on the stool and arms propped over the counter, leaning a little too close than one should.

“oh!” you gasped as though you’d just remembered something, “can i have a bloody mary, please?”

“sure thing, sweets,” she winked and you giggled.

the whole time she was preparing your order, she’d kept her eyes on you and you were a giggling mess, eyes of stars staring at the way her nimble hands did their work up till the moment she slid it over to you with a, “it’s on the house.”

“oh my god, thank you!” a pause in the moment and a linger of gaze later, you were pushing the piece of paper with a sequence of numbers into your bra.

there was skip to your step as you made your way over to what was supposed to be a booth that you booked with your friends - who, in the short span of time managed to get their of companions for the night and consequently left no space for you to even sit.

so you stood there, not knowing how much time passed, with your jaws on the ground and the bloody mary held midair. completely frozen in place.

that was, until the handsome stranger beckoned you over from two seats away. he only had one other person with him. if his hair was dark, his companion’s was jet black, “hey, you can sit with us.”

with a dry sniffle, you’d marched way over. a stomp in your steps and a huff as you plopped down across from him and his companion. he’d introduced himself as taehyung and his companion, jungkook. and you had, forgetting everything about your untasteful encounter, brightly announced your name, “thanks so much for letting me sit with you guys,” you gushed, “me and my girlfriends made a promise that we’d never let any man or woman get in our way of girl’s night,” with an face full of dissatisfaction and an exhalation, you continued, “but guess that plan went out of the window.”

“is this your first time? don’t think we’ve seen you before,” jungkook’s voice, if there existed a word to sum up how to describe it, it would be melodic. a hymn of the heavens in the body of a man - a very beautiful man at that.

“no but this is my second time,” and halfway-drunk you had no filter or any sense of shutting the fuck up before you shared too much to strangers, you went on about how “a girl i was sorta a thing with brought me here,” you and her clearly didn’t work out because, otherwise why would you be here with, “so my girlfriends wanted to go to a gay bar and thought why not bring them here, right?” you scoffed, remembering the sisterhood promise made just a few hours ago, “wrong - they ditched me as soon as they saw the only few straight men here.”

that seemed to bring a rise of chuckle from taehyung and a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff from jungkook. for the rest of the night, you drank and did shots and danced on the floor - the two of them seemed a tad bit protective over you, especially when a man got too close. they weren’t looking for any because, “so how long have you guys been dating?”

“we’ve known each other for seven years and we’ve been dating for-” jungkook began before taehyung chirped in, “two years.”

“oh my god, you guys finish each other’s sentences,” you cooed, vision blurred but still somewhat able to process the information that went through your ears “goals.”

so they had no reason to let anyone else come into your little circle of three on top of the very obvious fact that you were too far gone to even consent to even a dance with any man or woman.

you remembered your friends, some time into the night, finding you and thanking the two men for looking out for you before they dragged you out with them. neither of them actually went home with anyone but it still didn’t stop you from holding a vendetta against them because, “girls, we made a sacred promise and you broke it!”

they’d bribed you with ice cream and sushi and you were a puddle of delighted jelly by the time you all walked out of the sushi place.

it was a month later that you’d returned to the bar, decked in your best curve-hugging skin-tight dress. this time, you were alone.

the plan to earn brownie points from the bartender fell through when you found out that she was quit a few days ago and the employer refused to give you any details about her - even her number to you because you’d regrettably got it wet beyond repair after dumping the clothes you’d worn that night into the washer before going to bed and setting the laundry to wash the next morning, forgetting the treasure that you’d gained the night before.

with shoulders sagged and a mournful pout, you’d walked over to one of those two-people tables, hoping to get a beer in a leave. but then they were there, sitting at the same table, beckoning you over like the good overnight friends that they were.

“what’s with the long face, sweetie?” taehyung pouted, eyebrows knitting together as he shot you the prettiest puppy eye to which made you giggle in response.

so you’d told them about how you’d fucked up with one of the cutest girl you’d seen in ages. “ugh, i hate when that happens,” jungkook made an over exaggerated eyeroll, probably to cheer you up which partially worked.

until you three decided to dance again with taehyung holding your hand up as you twirled around like a princess in red. when it’s jungkook’s turn to twirl, he had to bend his knees and gradually make a full circle in an awkward way but still ended with a hair flip.

and so it went, a friendship of mutuality and overflowing gayness. you’d become eating buddies who travelled all over seoul for the best foodplace that’s ever been reviewed. had stay overs when you’d driven out of town and back to their place. went to the bar every so often which they’d taken up the task of being your wingmen.

they succeeded in their jobs a few times. but the girls you’d slept with never stayed and you never thought of proceeding to reach out beyond a one nightstand. because you were young and they were sweet but you didn’t think a relationship of trust and confidence could ever spawn from meetings at bars and spurred into a hot, passionate romance that simmered into ashes the next day.

“i don’t know you guys,” you sigh, “i think i’m done with girls.”

“oh no,” taehyung looks genuinely mortified while jungkook shakes his head “a loss for the gays and girls” and you giggle-  never a dull moment with these two.

“i’m not saying i’m done done but it’s been awhile since i’ve sucked a dick, you know?” and with friendship came honesty and the comfortableness of saying things for what it is without being judged for it.

“oh don’t we know,” jungkook snickers, while taehyung shoots him a look - he’d always been the shy one between the two. the younger man goes in for a kiss, to which the elder accepts, meeting him halfway.

and all of it only makes you a tad bit lonely as you scan the crowd. some gorgeous beings catches your eye and you’d like to think you caught theirs too but instead of the gentle and loving affection you’d seen between the two men, their eyes were sparked with lust and passion. like nymphs of the night who’d leave you high and dry once they got what they wanted.

so you left to get a drink at the bar, ordering a shot of jeager in hopes of drinking away the creeping hollowness that begins to fill the lonely parts of your heart. several shots in and you’re tumbling over to your two friends who seem to be have taken things up several notches after your leave. with taehyung on top of jungkook and the first not so shy anymore to let out unrestrained moans as his younger other half laps on his neck.

you’re halfway drowned into your own little world and probably will be going home with them and crashing in that spare bedroom you’ve started calling your part time bedroom.

until you lock eyes with jungkook. his lower face buried in taehyung’s shoulder while the latter pauses, glancing over to you as though just remembering that you were there. still having the sense to lift an inquisitive eyebrow, you do so with a, “oh don’t mind me, i’m just happy that you guys are getting some tonight.”

“you know,” jungkook pauses, letting the seconds trickle on like the droplets of on the wall of the glass before it hits the surface of the table, “you wanted to suck a dick, right? welll we’ve got dicks.”

it takes you a long winded, painful moment to digest his words. another to let out a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff as if to say, “you’re kidding...” but the “...right?” comes a second too late. a second too hopeful.

and that’s how you end up in the washroom - you’re not quite sure if it’s the men or women’s but you’re surprised that it could fit three adults in one tiny cubicle. but the matter of how to suck whose dick was an entirely different problem.

“shit ___, your elbow’s in my stomach,” jungkook hisses in a muted whisper, his hand on your hip, no doubt the culprit of your ridden up dress until your cotton panties are out in the open.

“fuck, jungkook, move over, i can’t reach tae’s dick,” you grumble out, the aforementioned man’s hardened dick in your hand but the space not allowing you to even crouch in front of him as he sat on the toilet whilst jungkook stood behind you.

“will someone just suck my dick?” the latter sighs just as he throbs in your hand.

“wait,” jungkook says, earning a dissatisfied groan from you and his boyfriend but before either of you can say anything, he’s turning you around, hands guiding your hips, “tae, push her panties down.”

almost as though controlled by an invisible force, the man’s hands are quick to get those baby pink panties down until they’re hanging around your ankles.

“hey wait wait wait!” you repeat like a mantra as you feel jungkook’s hands guiding you down onto taehyung’s lap which, if you remember correctly, was sporting a protruding hardness in between.

“oh fuck,” yes, you’d just confirmed that an extremely erected and extravagantly lively dick is excitingly welcoming you with the way it’s jolting against your lower lips.

“oh my god,” taehyung moans, hands on the curve of your hips as he gently lowers you onto him until he’s fully inside you.

“that’s nice that you two are enjoying yourselves but - remember i’m the one that made this work,” a voice says before a hand wraps around your wrist, guiding it to a similarly throbbing hardness but of a lesser length than taehyung’s to which you soon realize that he makes it up with his girth.

“someone’s jealous,” the person behind you snickers - you have half a mind to join in on the teasing if it isn’t for your hips and knees focusing on keeping up your weight whilst you hand strokes the length in front of you, mouth lapping on his tip.

“shut up and kiss me, pretty boy,” you can almost hear the eye roll from jungkook’s voice as the tip of your nose hits his pelvic, mouth stretching wider as his leans over you, possibly to lock lips with the man he vindictive but lovingly complimented.

and so it goes, your first dick - two actually - after a long while. needless to say, you come out flushed and walking silly but both men had their hands around the opposite hip from the side they’re standing beside. it helps you hold yourself up at least until you’re in their car, switching from sticking your tongue in taehyung’s throat to jungkook’s when he stops at a red light. body stretching over the leg space between the passenger seat and the back of the driver’s seat, his neck probably hurting from having to crane around until he reaches your lips whilst taehyung’s keeps himself busy with a hand under your panties. teasing, rubbing your pleasure nub just above your lips until you’re soaking by the time the car rolled to a stop in their parking lot.

“scoot over,” jungkook instructs, unbuckling his seatbelt, “we really need to normalize waiting for the third person to finish doing whatever they were doing before deciding to fuck in the back seat of the car while they’re driving.”

“can i have your mouth, sweetie?” taehyung announces, sending waves of excitement down your core as you feel yourself clench in anticipation.

there’s just something about how they manhandle you - your hips particularly as taehyung lifts you up and slides away to the right of the car and setting you down like a little doll, hand pushing down his pants and letting his erection shoot up like a roly poly.

“great cause i want her pussy,” jungkook’s displeased tone is replaced by a breathy agreement.

and just like his other half, he’s making you stand on your knees, body bent over taehyung until his dick is in your face, oozing with precum.

“tae baby, at this point, you don’t even have to ask,” you fix him a smirk, savoring the way his eyes darken with a sort of godless desire as you lap at his tip like you would a lollipop.

the second time around, you’re much better at focusing on what’s in front of you despite the other length filling you up balls deep.

you’re not sure when you’d stopped or what time you fell asleep. but all you knew, you were sore and full by the time you were drifting between the waking world and the dream world.

the morning when you woke up, it’s been because of the way the bed shook like an earthquake was wrecking up the room. an earthquake that moaned, “deeper, jungkook, oh fuck.”

the sight before you has you clenching your thighs together but at the same time, the giggle that left your lips is what causes heads to turn and eyes to focus on you.

“did we wake you up, sweetie? i’m so sorry,” taehyung is the first to worry, “oh yes-” but that worry subsides when jungkook starts moving again, skin slapping skin.

but the elder isn’t quite ready to give up just yet, “we wanted to wait for you to- ah - get up - fuck - oh,” he whimpers, burying his face into the mattress before peeking at you with eyebrows knitting together, “when we were talking about l-last night, we - we couldn’t help ourselves.”

“don’t worry about me, i had plenty of dick to go for at least a whole month,” you stare at taehyung’s pinked lips for the briefest moment before searching his eyes, feeling a sudden heat rise to your cheeks when you notice he’d caught the lingering stare - last night was fun but all three of you were buzzed and possibly horny as hell, you’re not so sure if a kiss would be welcomed by either of them now that you’re all sober and awake.

“i’m gonna go shower,” you announce, throwing your feet over the edge of the bed, the sound of your padding steps drowned by their pleasured moans.

the hot shower helps ease the knots in your muscles and calm your mind - or at least partially. the sight of the two boyfriends shamelessly fucking in front of your eyes still plays at the back of your mind like a graphic scene. and so you find yourself caressing your hardened nipples, your free hand snaking down between your legs as a whimper escapes your mouth. almost as though anything louder, and the whole world would know what you’re doing.

“what? you’re touching yourself?” a melodic but dangerous voice reverberates against the wall and cuts through the sound of running shower.

before you can even call out - ask who it is even though it’s obvious whose voice it belongs to, the curtain is torn open, revealing a sculpted god - you didn’t notice last night because it was dark but even then you’d known those strong arms that held you must be hiding something else underneath those layer of clothes.

“oh, hey, tae - the bathroom’s kinda oc-” you were about to ask what he was doing because the bathroom was obviously occupied - besides the fact that it’s the guest room’s bedroom and the main bedroom had their own bathroom - but before you can, a pair of arms are pulling you against another body. muscular and deliciously built but exceptionally predatory.

“you weren’t gonna come without us, are you?” taehyung’s crestfallen expression is all you see. his downturned lips and puckered lips being your weakness.

“y-you guys were busy, so i-” your words are cut short when you feel the coldness of a breath against you damp ear, “uh-uh, who said we were?” jungkook’s teasing denial is what makes you clench your legs together, only for them to be pried open by the dark haired man who’s fallen to his knees right in front of you.

“tae!” you shriek, caught by surprised at the sudden lost of balance as he hooks one leg over his shoulder whilst your hand claws onto jungkook’s arms that’s banded over your chest for a sort of leviation.

“shhh,” jungkook hums in your ears, as though to say ‘we’d never let you fall’.

but you didn’t fall and taehyung’s looking at you with the prettiest eyes, “what? you said i didn’t have to ask, right?”

“n-no,” the heat comes on full force - all of a sudden, the hot water trickling down your bodies aren’t even remotely sufficient to keep you warm, “you don’t have to.”

and so it goes, your many firsts within the short span of less than 24 hours, spurred by the two wonderful souls you never thought you’d come to know so closely within the duration of your friendship.

you waited with nothing but a towel around your body until jungkook knocked on the door, a folded set of clothes in hand.

“oh hey thanks - don’t know what i’d do if i had to walk in the streets in fishnets and flashy red dress,” you force out a chuckle, cheeks heating up as you swipe the clothes off his hands in a blink of an eye. to which he heaves out a sigh, but the smile on his lips tells you that he’s all but angry.

“hey, i know what went on in the last few hours was crazy,” he starts, sounding uncannily casual about it, “but we don’t want this to get in the way of what we’ve built - can we talk about this over breakfast? tae’s making it now but- i mean, if you want to, of course.”

and that’s when you finally let the walls come tumbling down. standing there bare - quite literally - with your chest washed off its initial worries, “honestly, i’d really like that.”

“perfect,” the brightest smile lights up on his face and for a moment, you thought everything went back to normal. back when all three of you are hanging out and joking about the littlest things one of you realized and pointed out to the other two.

“oh and,” jungkook tilts his head to the side, “sorry if i was rude or anything last night,” he quickly adds, “and just now - i tend to be like that during sex.”

“oh,” is all that follows your response, thoughts running around before you can actually reach out one by one to process it - so single celled brain goes, “i kind of like that side of you, actually.”

“really?” there it goes the smile that could quite literally blind you as his shoulders visibly sags, “tae hates it when i boss him around - thank god that’s not the majority opinion from now on.”

“from now on?” you echo his words but before you can interrogate him some more, he’s out of the door and yelling for you to come to the kitchen when you’re done putting on the clothes.

so you find yourself sitting in front of the two boyfriend whom you’ve spend quite a night knowing. they’re gazing at you with eyes that can’t stop squinting into crescents and smile that can’t stop smiling.

“okay should i tell or you?” taehyung turns to the darker haired male, their hands that are twined together moving towards the man he’s pointing.

“how about together?” jungkook suggests, a glint in his eyes that makes you stare, wide eyed and unblinking. pancake lying cold and uneaten as you wait with bated breath, “...tell me what?”

before you can even finish your words, the two bursts out in exclamation, “we like you.”

taehyung’s is a bit more excited while jungkook’s is a tad bit reserved.

“i like you guys too!” you declare, hands clapping together in excitement.

“oh my god, you do?” taehyung squeals, bringing his free hand and the one he has twined with jungkook to his heart.

“don’t i?” you make a ridiculous sound, hand waving away the ludicrosity of the possibility of you saying otherwise, “i’m glad we get to put last night behind us and still be friends.”

“i don’t think she gets it,” jungkook says a whole heartbeat later whilst taehyung’s upturned lips gradually but surely falls.

“what?” your eyes flit between the two, as if trying to spot the thing you seem to obviously miss.

“sweetie,” taehyung reaches his hand to you, to which you gladly accept before jungkook does the same with his other hand and you similarly meet halfway over the table “we like like you,” the taller man emphasizes.

it takes you a moment to digest his words. another to squint your eyes at them with a ‘okay where’s the punchline?’ kind of smile. and one last moment for it to sink in, “i thought you guys were gay and last night and this morning was a mistake?”

“i thought so too,” taehyung is the first to break the bond, his free hand coming to his chest, bent in a 90 degrees angle, “but i’ve had girl crushes and they went away after i met jungkook so i thought they were just me being in denial of my sexuality but i like spending time with you and jungkook,” he slips his large hand into yours that stays frozen on the table where he’d left it, his thumb caressing your knuckles, “i like the way you smile, the way you’d team up with me to tease jungkook,” that receives a snort from the man in question, “the way you’re always so supportive and optimistic- i just - i like you.”

“well, what he said except i like everything he’s not about you,” jungkook simply says, “and unlike him, i know i’m bi.”

“and we want you to be a part of this wonderful, beautiful, delightful relationship,” taehyung adds, fixing you the most tender smile as he gazes at you as though he’s never seen such a magnificent creature before.

“i mean...” you breathe out, a sea of emotions crashing against your chest before you finally say, “this is a lot to take in guys. i don’t know what to say - i think i need some time for myself.”

“oh,” it’s the way taehyung seems like he has more to say, the way his smile is completely replaced with a hesitant flat line and the way jungkook lets go of their twined hands to rub the elder man’s back.

“it’s okay, take your time,” he says, and you shoot him a grateful but awkward smile before taking your things and leaving through the door. unsure of whether you’ll ever return. whether you’ll ever laugh about the stupidity of bravely idiotic characters in horror movies again. whether you’ll ever huddle in the kitchen trying to cook dinner for three again. whether those peaceful days will ever be yours again depending on your own choices.

days go by and then one week and then two and you’ve confided in at least two people whose reactions are similarly perturbed by what you’ve told them until you’ve concluded that nobody will truly understand the confusion and frustration and jitters that courses through your veins when you think about the two charming but glaringly different ends of the spectrum men.

one is like the blue sky, bright yet vast and a trove of never ending possibilities while the other is like the midnight sky, decked with fleeting moments of vulnerability and endless mystery. but both, you’ve come to realize, are the reasons your view of the world has changed for the better. made your days a little more worth looking forward to. and it’s exiting and daunting all at once because the people you’ve confided in have expressed their concerns and dissertation of what they think hides behind the veils of normality. a box they’re not so used to stepping out of and deems those beyond the cardboards uncommon. foreign. unknown.

and truthfully, you’ve already decided what you want - know what you want to do on your way back that day after you’d made a beeline for the door. and as you stand in front of the same door, sniffling from the remnants of your fight with your parents after your sister - one of the people you’d confided in - deliberately told them about what she thinks - and she thought right - you’re about to do.

two rings later, you’re staring at a face of an angel. doe eyes hiding behind jet black locks widening as the sight of you hits him like a brick.

“____, hey, it’s okay,” jungkook says in the softest voice as he gathers you in his arms like an old cardigan.

“baby, who’s at the door?” comes the loud but smooth baritone a minute later.

he must have seen himself - who their uninvited guest is as silence settles in between all three of you before taehyung’s coos, “oh, sweetie.”

it’s only after an hour of ice cream and watching friends and the two boyfriends wrapping you up in a burrito blanket that you blanket do you spill the beans on why you showed up at their door at 11 in the evening, looking like a mess they never ordered.

your parents are livid. they think this isn’t real - that you’re being delusional and that both taehyung and jungkook were messing with you. it was the slander on the two soul’s names that has you unleashing the words you’d never thought you’d say to your own parents.

“i can take liking girls. that’s fine - but a relationship of three?” your father had stood in front of you, fingers pointing at his head as he spat out, “are you crazy?”

the family dinner had turned into a family quarrel. and your sister had been caught up in between - she’d wanted you too see the ludicrosity of it all and if not her, then maybe you’d listened to your parents.

and listened you did.

like a time bomb surrounded with dynamites, you’d eventually exploded. anything you say would never get through the and anything they said, you’d taken negatively.

so you took the cab straight to taehyung and jungkook’s.

“i just - it hurts because they won’t accept you guys and that means they’re rejecting me,” you sniffle, “i’m sorry i took so long.”

“hey, it’s okay, you’re with us now,” jungkook gathers you in lap whilst taehyung wraps his arms around the both of you from your other side, “yeah, cry all you want sweetie, we’re here for you.”

you wake up the next morning huddled up in a king sized bed with the two men on either side of you, almost like a knights protecting their princess as she slept like a baby after crying her eyes out for another half hour. your legs are tangled together, a pair of mismatched hands on your stomach while a snore resounds from your left where taehyung is sleeping like a beauty and jungkook on your right like an angel.

and for the first time in a long time, that hollowness in your chest cowers away in the light of the day that seeps through the blinds, painting paralleled shadows over your skin.

“i love you,” you whisper, looking between their two peacefully sleeping faces.

x

“hey, beautiful, you come here often?” a gruff voice reverberates in your ears just as you’ve placed the order for you and-

“yeah, with my boyfriends,” you shoot him a polite smile before attempting to slip past him and the stools you’re trapped in between but before you can even manage to move, he inches closer.

it’s been a year since you’ve been dating taehyung and jungkook. eight months since you’ve decided to move in with them for good. your parents reached out to you two months ago after declaring your banishment from ever stepping in their property let alone attend family dinners and gatherings. your relatives have all heard about your unusual but not unreal relationship and so have taehyung’s and jungkook’s families.

opposition still rises from both sides of the families’ distant relatives. it’s not too far off from yours.

“oh, you mean how girls call their lady friends girlfriends,” a lecherous grin forms on his face, “i get it.”

“no,” you hiss, needles of annoyance getting to you earlier tonight than most nights, “i mean my boyfriends who i’m dating.”

the person frowns, confusion clearly painted in his face, “how can you be dating two people at once and those two people date each other while dating you?” he doesn’t even wait for your response as he takes a step back, “a simple ‘no’ could’ve done the trick, you think you’re better than me?”

“it’s cause we’re a thruple - like a couple but with three people,” you tilt your head to the side just the slightest bit, seeing him in a different but not any more attractive angle, “and honey, i know i’m better than you.”

and with that, you raise a challenging brow, daring him to say otherwise just as a smooth but deadly voice calls for you, “____, you were taking so long so we decided to check on you, is everything okay, sweetie?”

“hey man, what business do you have with our girlfriend?” jungkook lifts an eyebrow in a similar fashion as you as he glares down at the man who’s at least a few inches short.

“you-” the man steals a petrified glance at you as the realization sinks in his eyes but before he can say anything, you strut in between the two men, smirking when one of their arms snake around your waist in a possessive nature.

“nope,” you say simply, “shorty here was just leaving, weren’t you?”

he mumbles out something incoherent, between a ‘liar’ and ‘rude’ before scurrying away and out into another part of the bar until you can no longer see him.

“thanks for having my back, babes,” you stand on your tip toe only to have taehyung chuckle, bending over until your lips press his before doing the same to jungkook, “baby,” and the two sharing a kiss together a heartbeat later.

“let’s dance!” you grab their hands and begin to drag them to the dance floor which does nothing if they hadn’t move themselves and they know it too as they laugh, the taller men patting your hair gently because he knows how long you worked on it.

“our girlfriend is so cute, isn’t she?”

jungkook pushes taehyung’s hands away only to ruffle the top of your hair despite your protest, “sure is.”

“my hair!” you lament, “babes, baby messed up my hair!”

you tug on your boyfriend’s sleeve, the man looking between you and his boyfriend, unsure of whether to be the pacifier or the scolder. in the end, he goes in for a kiss on your pouted lips, “you look beautiful either way, sweetie.”

“oh my god, it’s ruined, isn’t it?” you question, eyes filling with dread.

the culprit has the gal to laugh at your predicament until you announce your choice of dance partner being your taller boyfriend for the rest of the night and him not exactly opposing it whilst jungkook is left to trail behind you until he catches up between you, arms around your waist and taehyung’s, “okay, okay, sorry - i’ll make it up to both of you later tonight!”

at that bold yet careless exclamation, you look at taehyung, only to see the corners of his lips lifting into a devious smirk similar to yours.

“it’s been awhile since we took out the whip, hasn’t it?”

[restapesta]

Fucking Milkovich

words: 5.5k

Five times Ian pulled Mickey away from starting a fight and the one time the roles were reversed.

1. THE STORE

The old lady had been side-eyeing them since they accidentally bumped into her at the wine aisle, Mickey backing into her as he and Ian led a loud, heated discussion about whether or not the Rose that was in Ian's hand was the same one from the gay party they had attended a couple of days before.

Ian was dead set on saying that it was the same bottle of pink wine and that even if it wasn't, it probably tasted the same, all the while Mickey was dead set on proving to Ian that the bottle was most certainly not the same one and that they should crack it open and try it even if they were still in the middle of the supermarket. They were bickering back and forth, not paying much attention to their surroundings, and Mick had backed away from the rack of wines, unceremoniously colliding with the gray-haired lady who was pushing a cart filled to the brim with groceries. It was a miracle the items hadn't toppled out, considering there was a mountain of them. Ian wondered how steadily the lady must've been pushing the cart, and how close his husband had come from knocking it all down.

Mickey had muttered a quick sorry and Ian had shot the lady an apologetic look when she just stared at Mickey and the tattoos that covered his hands and arm, blatantly revealed by his short-sleeved t-shirt. Ian had told him he looked hot in it that morning, so Mickey had kept the jacket off, appeasing his husband's gaze. He felt a bit cold but Ian's eyes following unapologetically as his arms flexed made it all worth it.

Ian gestured for Mickey to leave the aisle with his eyes, accompanied by a sharp tilt of his head -- and they continued their way to the other racks of food and drinks, Ian placing the bottle of wine in their own basket. They weren't there for a full-on grocery run. They were in Costco purely because their snacks and beer needed stocking up, and they needed some shit for the mac-and-cheese Mickey had been craving. Ian had lost a bet while they were at work today so he promised to make him some -- a deed Mickey was quite happy about.

They bumped into the lady once more at the cash register. There were some people six feet in front of them (considering they kept their distance), unloading their stuff, and the woman was mere inches behind them, as if she was waiting in line with the couple, not behind them, pressed close. Mickey shot her a glance and when he noticed her scowl, he gave her a slight smile that Ian knew was obviously not a smile, but rather a 'hello lady I crashed into, why are you standing so close, back away from me and my tall ginger before I tell you to back the fuck away'  threat. He had a feeling the lady caught on to what Ian did, but chose not to comply, considering how her scowl deepened and how she seemed to press impossibly closer.

Mickey and Ian shared a look but kept their mouths shut, preparing to unload their shit onto the moving thingy -- but then the old bat spoke.

"Least you could do is let me cut the line." She was looking straight at Mickey, and to Ian,  judging by the look on his husband's face, it seemed as if he was considering it. But when his gaze swept over the pile in her cart -- the one almost spilling over -- he simply shrugged, "No. I couldn't."

Mickey kept unloading the few items they did have, and Ian followed his lead, but the lady was persistent. "You are very unkind."

Mickey simply muttered an 'uh-uh' as he grabbed the money out of his jacket.

"You should be ashamed."

Mickey rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb and Ian knew that signaled danger, so he pushed him lightly with his shoulder, gesturing for him to pay. Mickey obliged begrudgingly, choosing to ignore the bitch. The cashier was just finishing placing their shit into the plastic bag, handing it to Ian, also handing Mickey back the change. They were going to leave the place unscathed.

Too bad the bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"You should put a leash on him."

Before Mickey had a chance to jump her and gauge her eyes out, Ian wrapped his hands around his torso and pushed him towards the door of the store, whispering 'calm the fuck down' to him curtly, the grocery bag in his hand making it harder to sustain his husband. It wasn't the first time he had done this, and he doubted it would be the last. It was somewhat of a struggle but Ian managed. He also tried to ignore the look of pure horror on the grandma's face.

When he was finally able to get Mickey through the door -- while the guy spewed graphic insults at the hag -- he let go, making sure to keep him a safe distance away from the store.

"What the fuck is it with old bitches being so fucking rude?" Mickey muttered loudly, grabbing the bag out of Ian's hand and pulling out the Rose. He opened the bottle easily and took a long gulp, emptying a third of the bottle with it. His face scrunched up immediately. "I fucking told you it wasn't the same one!"

Ian just shook his head.

Fucking Milkovich.

2. THE JOB

The day had been pretty slow. They had their regular cash pick-ups and deliveries, and they had finished most of them, considering how the day was nearing its end. Both Ian and Mickey were ready to get back home and crash on the couch, maybe down a beer or two, and especially take off the uniforms that had truly made them sweat today. Spring was coming, and fuck if Ian wasn't ready for the onslaught of discomfort the camo brought on with it. Mickey didn't look like he minded it much, but Mickey was Mickey, so it wasn't a surprise. Ian, on the other hand, was already considering alternatives.

They were delivering their last bags of weed, taking a long ass drive to fucking HerbalCare, knowing it would take them a while to get back home too -- but the Northsiders that owned the place were kind of their regulars, so they were used to it.

Both Ian and Mickey expected the usual chick to show up and pick up the marijuana when they eventually got to the place -- the one with the curly red hair and a sassy attitude -- but instead, an unknown guy did with a large-ass man following shortly behind.

The first guy looked like any other -- casual clothing, friendly face, easy demeanor -- unlike -- what Ian supposed was -- his bodyguard. He looked like a capo with his broad shoulders, tight black shirt, tattoos littering his body, head cleanly shaved. Ian glanced reluctantly at his own thug, mentally praying Mickey had a bullet that could take down the motherfuckers in front of them if necessary.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" The normal-looking one spoke.

Mickey nodded, also slightly taken aback, but not letting it show. "We have a delivery for HerbalCare." He glanced at Ian. "For Dina? Wasn't it?"

Ian nodded slowly, assessing the situation.

"I'll take it from here." The guy responded, eyeing Mickey up and down. "Dina is currently busy at the moment." Mickey didn't seem too happy with the asshat's statement. Ian wasn't either, naturally. The man had an odd vibe to him -- he seemed on edge despite his cool facade, and Ian saw straight through it. He glanced at Mickey who seemed to have been noticing the same thing. They were not handing shit over to these assholes. There's a certain trust you had to earn before claiming a couple of thousand dollars worth of weed from Gallavich Security.

"How 'bout I just speak to Dina, yeah?" Mickey's voice was calm and eery -- he was in boss mode. The mode that even scared Ian, sometimes. It was dangerous territory these guys were treading on if Mickey had resorted to going into the mode only slightly less scary than Milkovich thug mode.

The dude, still nameless, smiled without humor. "Why don't you just give me the weed, huh?"

Mickey pulled out his gun swiftly, pointing it straight at the guy's head. The shock on his face only lasted for a moment before it turned into a smirk. The capo next to him pulled out his own, only slightly smaller than Mickey's, pointing it at Mickey's head.

Well, shit.

Ian pulled out the gun from his waistband, feeling slightly worried for his and his husband's safety, pointing it at the tall-ass man. It was like a scene from a movie. A poor, shitty-quality one.

"How about we all just put down our guns and we'll come back when Dina gets here?" Ian's voice was smooth and the silence hung lowly over them for a couple of moments. Ian was never a gun sort of guy, but rather a talk-it-out one.

They eventually all put down their guns, albeit reluctantly.

"Okay, then. Guess we'll be seeing you." The guy muttered as he turned his back to Ian and Mickey, capo following behind, shooting them a glare. Their movements were slow and deliberate, but eventually, when they were a safe distance away, the capo turned around and shot them the middle finger.

Ian was just barely in time to stop Mickey before he leaped out to kill the motherfucker.

He wrapped his arms around him like a boa constrictor, attempting to stop him from committing homicide. As always, it took a while.

Mickey growled after a minute or two, finally calming down, glaring at the spot the asshole thieves were a few moments before. "Oh, you fucking will be seeing me. You'll be seeing me in your nightmares, you motherfuckers."

Ian barely contained himself from rolling his eyes.

Fucking Milkovich.

3. THE ALIBI

Ian had been nursing a beer for the past hour while his worse half had already downed three. Mickey was on his fourth glass of Budweiser, slightly tipsy, but not quite drunk just yet as he and Ian enjoyed their night out, something one might even call a date (correction: something only Ian would call a date).

They had gone out for chicken wings, played some pool after dinner -- even took a fucking stroll out -- and now, they were chilling at the Alibi Room, enjoying each other's companies, talking about anything and everything, laughing at Kevin's jokes and making fun of Kermit and Tommy, the regular drunks of the Southside.

It was a slow day today, their job weighing a little extra heavy on their shoulders, but the night was swift, in contrast. In fact, they were having a really good time, letting go of all of the fucked-up things happening in their lives right now, the burden coming off of their shoulders, even for a little while. And Ian was especially looking forward to the sex that was bound to follow when they got back home. Hell, if Mickey continues drinking the beers at this pace, maybe even in the bathroom -- it truly only depended on the level of horniness the drunken state would illicit.

They were still enjoying their alcohol and horniness when Kermit had decided to remind everyone of a comment. Ian guessed it wasn't supposed to be that big of a deal. Both Ian and Mickey had dealt with far worse from people far shittier than Tommy and Kermit. But the comment  --  the one about how Tommy was against their wedding, saying it was a man-woman thing -- didn't really sit well with either of them. Ian had no idea how the topic even came up, and the whole 'kind of drunk and talk-y' Mickey wasn't helping the case, but the words most certainly had an undesired effect on the couple.

Mickey had stilled immediately.

It wasn't that big of a deal. Homophobes were all around them, and they knew that Tommy was as gay and as homophobic as any of them, and Mickey would probably ignore the comment had he not been this content with the night he was having.

Here he was with Ian, having a great time, enjoying his life, his marriage, and over-all his husband, and this asshole was going to ruin it with this comment. This stupid, meaningless comment.

Neither Ian nor Mickey lived in a fantasy -- the one where everyone was supportive of the gays and where love was simply love, no matter if it was between a male and a female, or a male and a male -- but sometimes, they forgot what world they actually lived in and in those moments they were at their most vulnerable to these sort of remarks. They cut them deep, Mickey especially.

He was so happy with Ian, so happy with his marriage, the life they shared, that the outside world rarely even mattered. But when he heard someone saying how they shouldn't have gotten married -- shouldn't have been enjoying their love and relationship, shouldn't be where they are now -- Mickey got pissed.

"Oh yeah, Tommy? Man-woman thing?" Mickey's voice was unnervingly steady.

Kevin eyed Kermit, silently conveying the question, "why the fuck would you say that". Kermit shrugged but Mickey only had eyes for dear old Tom. He was watching him like prey.

Tommy gulped, not as afraid of Mickey as he used to be, but definitely not one-hundred percent safe around him either. Everybody knew Mickey protected himself and his family -- Ian and the Gallaghers -- only. Everyone else could just go fuck themselves. Tommy fell into the latter group.

"That's just the way I've been taught. Y'all are good, enjoy your marriage." He attempted to climb out of the hole he had dug for himself but it wasn't really working. The asshole had made it too deep and had fallen into it headfirst.

"Oh, I'm so fucking happy I have your approval." Mickey bit back.

"Oh, no," Ian muttered lowly. "Mick."

"You should be happy I don't have a gun on me now. Now, while I'm on a date with my husband." He annunciated the words slowly, making sure Tommy understood and heard them very well and remembered them for good. Ian's heart fluttered at the mention of the word date, but he reeled it back in for now. He could enjoy it later when Mickey wasn't on the verge of murdering someone.

"Hey man, how 'bout you just calm down?"

Tommy really wanted to die today.

Ian was pushing Mickey out of the bar before he strangled the man with his bare hands. Mickey cursed as they were leaving, resisting his husband as he attempted to drag him out. Ian barely got them through the door, and when he did, Mickey tried hard to go back in.

Ian hissed at him to stop. Eventually, Mickey did.

"I see him one more time, I'm killing him, understood?" Mickey was baring his teeth at the bar as if Tommy could see him. "Him and his counterpart."

Ian closed his eyes briefly.

Fucking Milkovich.

4. THE BLEACHERS

It had always been their spot. From the beginning, it was a place for Ian and Mickey to run away to, not just to hook up, but to escape their lives and the turmoils of their families, each fucked up in its own fucked up way. It was easy for them to just disappear for a while, fucking against the fence, shot-gunning beer with no one to reprimand them for when they left the cans on the stadium, the world completely oblivious that it was the odd duo. Not just Mickey Milkovich, the infamous Southside thug, and not just Ian Gallagher, the skinny army ginger -- but both Ian and Mickey, a pairing no one saw coming, not from a million light-years away.

It was easier back then, sure, but now, it was better. They used to just fuck underneath the bleachers, making it nothing more than a hook-up spot, barely touching after sex, drinking beer like just a couple of friends, not like they were in between rounds, Ian aching for more, Mickey denying him access to it. Ian knew Mickey wouldn't even admit they were friends back then.

But then again, it was different then than it was now.

Now the bleachers were their spot. Not just a fuck spot like it used to be. No -- it was a hangout spot. They didn't have their own place yet -- that was still a work in progress -- and when the Gallagher house became too loud and too messy for them to just enjoy their night, outside of the confines of their room, they went to the bleachers.

It wasn't a regular occurrence, more like a once-a-month sort of thing, but it still felt great and rejuvenating -- it felt like them. A space in the dark where they could just talk and drink and mess around and make out in, unapologetically relieved of the burden on their shoulders, whatever it may be.

Tonight was a night like that, a night where all they wanted and needed to do was escape -- Terry's death was still weighing heavy on Mickey's soul, for reasons Mickey and Ian both had yet to uncover, and the house was brimming with too many Gallaghers with too many opinions and observations. They needed a break.

The spot under the bleachers was supposed to be reserved for them as always, and they had brought along a six-pack of beer as well, deciding to just get drunk, even if they still had to get to work the next morning. It would be a good ending to a shitty week.

But the asshole kids sitting at their spot weren't gonna let that play out.

Ian and Mickey were aware that they were grown-ass men, but it was ten pm and these children had no right to even be near the bleachers let alone smoking and drinking underneath them. They were far from teens and they reminded Ian of himself and Lip when they were mere eleven-year-olds trying to figure the messed-up world out.

Mickey didn't really see it that way. He was clearly just annoyed.

"Beat it." He said in a curt voice, flicking his wrist to point to the imaginary exit. Ian followed suit reluctantly, only after trying to convince Mickey to just let them have at it and go to the dugouts instead.

"No Ian, we came here because this is our spot and these little fuckers need to go." Mickey had responded.

Ian was aware his husband had issues.

He was used to it.

The kids laughed, the three voices laughing merging, sounding more like a pack of hyenas. "Watcha' gonna do about it, grandpa?"

Mickey had a very shitty couple of days.

Mickey was not a well-tempered person.

Mickey was on the verge of killing something.

These kids were the catalyst.

When Mickey took a swift step towards them, Ian was once again -- how many times was it, now? -- holding him back. The kids scattered around, scared shitless of the thug. They were gone in the blink of an eye.

Ian felt sorry for them, but he was happy that, at least, Mickey didn't dump their tiny bodies in the river. Not that Mickey would've actually done that.

Ian hoped.

"I was one second from threatening to eat them for lunch," Mickey grumbled. He then pointed at the free spot. "At least they're gone. Gimme that beer, I wanna have some good drunk sex."

He made a gesture with his fingers and smiled as if nothing had happened. Wasn't Ian supposed to be the crazy one?

Fucking Milkovich.

5.  THE GALLAGHER HOUSE

Debbie Gallagher was extremely annoying nine times out of ten. Ian Gallagher knew it. Mickey Milkovich knew. The entire Gallagher clan knew it. But today, she seemed especially bitchy.

It was a Friday night -- usually reserved for a good home-cooked meal, chilling on the couch, watching TV,  and just having a family night altogether. Even Lip and Tami were in the house on Fridays, bringing Fred along to play with Franny and Liam (who would more-so look after them than play with them).

That's how the nights usually went.

But tonight, Debbie the Brat had every intention of fucking it up.

She sauntered into the house, bitchiness oozing from her pores, head held high even though it should have been bowed down in shame. She was drunk off her rocks, and she was dragging Franny along with her.

"Hi, assholes." She greeted the family in the kitchen, letting go of Franny's hand, pulling her sunglasses off to reveal blood-shot eyes. God knows where the hell she had been today. All Ian knew was that she left the house sober with Franny and was now completely drunk, if not high, the little girl still trailing behind.

"Wash your hands, Fran," Liam instructed, eyeing Debbie up and down. She seemed even more fucked up than usual in his eyes.

She plopped herself down on the closest free chair which happened to be across Mickey. It was quiet for a few moments, everyone waiting for something to happen. Debbie was an unpredictable drunk, something they were only lately discovering.

It seemed like Debbie had woken up today and chosen violence.

She looked straight into Mickey's eyes. "Your cousin is a cunt."

Mickey raised an eyebrow while the other Gallaghers observing the exchange. Ian was sat next to him. He put his utensils down, not sure how this exchange was going to unravel, also pulling Mickey's knife out of reach, in a way he hoped was inconspicuous.

Just in case.

"She is a self-absorbed cunt who has no business in this house anymore." Deborah continued as if someone gave a shit. Mickey especially.

He shrugged. "Last I'd seen her was the morning after you guys broke up. I couldn't give less of a shit about whether or not she's with you or not with you. For fuck's sake, the break-up happened a long-ass time ago, get over it." Mickey looked down at his plate, continuing to eat his dinner, clearly signifying the conversation was over. He glanced at Ian when he couldn't find his knife.

Instead of moving on, Debbie grabbed a loaf of bread and threw it at him.

Mickey stilled.

Carl elbowed her hard but she paid no attention to the warning. She was having a staring contest with Mickey Milkovich. One she would eventually lose.

"Back the fuck off, Debbie," Ian warned himself.

She switched her gaze from Mickey to Ian. Her gaze was murderous. "Or what, Ian? You'll try and kill me with a bat?"

Collective silence fell over the table. Noone seemed to be breathing. All eyes switched to Ian, gauging his reaction, not believing the words that had left Debbie's mouth, but even warier of the ones that were bound to leave Ian's.

Ian had other things occupying his mind, though, and one of those things was his husband who was probably a second away from killing his sister-in-law.

"You bitch." Ian held Mickey down by his shoulders as he attempted to climb over the table and tackle her to the floor. "You and your condescending cunt can fuck off."

"Mickey. Come on." Ian pushed him out of the chair and shoved him lightly, indicating for him to go upstairs.

"No, Ian. She needs to be set fucking straight, or else you'll have a new Frank on your hands. This bitch." He fought against him as Debbie just sat still.

"Mickey." Ian shoved him towards the stairs, afraid he would have to explain to the cops how his husband murdered his sister if Mickey didn't leave the room, immediately. Mickey noticed Ian's serious expression, and slowly climbed up, all the while muttering to Debbie to go fuck herself.

Ian glanced at Debbie from where he stood.

"What?" She asked, innocently.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Debbie snorted. "Sorry if I hurt your feelings. Not like it wasn't true."

"I couldn't give less of a shit whether or not you think I'm crazy. You come in here and talk to Mickey like that again, I will be using a bat. Only then you'll see how crazy I can get." Ian was dead serious.

It was the first time since she came in that her eyes truly widened in fear.

He backed away upstairs slowly.

The rest of the Gallaghers were silent for a moment before they all collectively shot Debbie a dirty look, soon erupting in chatter, as if nothing had happened.

It had been merely a few seconds before Ian had entered their room, when Mickey finally started his rant, talking shit about Debbie, defending Ian being at the core of it all.

He had a lot to say, and Ian was going to listen to it all, like the supportive husband he was, always taking Mick's side.

As he listened to Mickey rant about Debbie, he thought about what he had said to her. It was true -- every single word that had left his mouth. He hoped she and the rest of them -- no matter who it was -- understood.

Mickey was more important to him than anyone else in this world, even his sister. He was Ian's family, his next of kin, the one Ian trusted and loved the most. When push comes to shove, he will chose him, no matter what. He will always choose his husband, the love of his life, his worse half.

God, he was soft.

Fucking Milkovich.

+1 THE STORE, THE JOB, THE ALIBI, THE BLEACHERS, THE GALLAGHERS

"You really keep me from killing people, man. Feel like I should thank you."

Mickey had muttered that lowly in the dark, his head resting on Ian's chest, both of them naked, enjoying their post-sex bliss. It was then when they were at their most open, letting out emotions and feelings that usually didn't seep into the mundane day.

Ian ran his fingers along Mickey's bare back, enjoying how Mickey shivered against them. "You do the same thing." He answered simply.

Mickey raised his head slightly to look at his husband. "No, I don't. I've never had to physically pull you away from stabbing or strangling someone."

"You do realize I usually get as pissed off as you do at these things."

"These things?"

Ian rolled his eyes in the dark. "C'mon Mick. You really think I'm okay with an old lady calling you rude and ignorant and judging you like you're nothing but a street rat. Or some assholes flipping us off after trying to steal our weed?" He adjusted his arm so it rested over Mickey's shoulder, Mickey's cheek pressed into his peck. "You think I don't get mad when Tommy talks about how we shouldn't have gotten married because we're men? Or how Debbie had the audacity to talk to you like that, in front of me."

"You never react to it, though. That's why I don't pull you away from starting shit. You kind of just stay calm." Mickey responded to Ian's short monologue.

Ian chuckled. "Mick. If I wasn't so busy pulling you away, I'd probably be the one murdering them all."

This time Mickey raised his head to fully look at Ian. They adjusted their positions so it was easier to keep each other's gaze.

"I'm serious," Ian responded to Mickey's expression of disbelief.

Ian was completely and utterly serious. That shit happened a lot.

In fact, had Ian not been so busy pushing Mickey out of the store, the plastic bag filled with shit they needed for dinner and the expensive -- but probably not correct -- Rosè in one of his hands, making sure his husband didn't go to prison for stabbing the geriatric bitch, he would have gotten really fucking pissed and probably have gone off at the grandma himself.

If Mickey didn't attempt to go after the fucking thieves, like the sociopath he was, Ian would've probably pulled out his gun and pointed it at the men's fucking back. Maybe he would've even tried emptying the clip.

Mickey trying to strangle Tommy was good enough of a distraction for Ian not to beat the asshole up himself. How fucking dare he talk about marriage like that, the drunk bitch. Ian would've been a second away from hurling himself at Tommy and beating the shit out of him -- but fuck it if Ian was gonna let Mickey get arrested for aggravated assault and risk his parole.

The kids at the bleachers didn't bother him. He knew Mickey had a soft spot for kids himself, so it was more of a hissy fit than a homicidal fit.

Debbie was the one that truly made his blood boil.

"You know," Ian began. "I would've probably signed a death warrant on Debbie and mine's relationship that night if you weren't there."

"How so?" Mickey was caressing Ian's cheek with his thumb, giving him the biggest case of heart-eyes. Ian didn't doubt that was how he was looking at Mickey himself.

"When she was saying that shit, all I could think of was making sure you didn't kill her. I barely registered what the fuck she was saying. I was trying to keep you from flipping the table and making Franny an orphan." Mickey rolled his eyes but kept silent. He knew there was truth in Ian's words. "But, if you weren't there. If Debbie had just started talking about me and the whole bipolar thing and I didn't have you to keep me from actually letting the words sink in..." He drifted off, not knowing how he would've reacted. The words would have probably cut him deep.

Shifting closer, Mickey pressed his palm against Ian's cheek. "Do we need to talk about how you should under no circumstance listen to your bitch of a sister? What happened all those years ago happened while you were manic and off your meds. Her using that as a comeback in an argument is low and a fucking betrayal. Right now, you are the healthiest you've been since your diagnosis and you shouldn't let her get in your head. Hell, if I have to, I'll fucking try and murder anyone to stop the words from -- what did you say -- sinking in?" Ian laughed wetly, feeling himself get emotional over Mickey's little speech.

"You're amazing, Ian." He finished. "I'm proud of you."

Ian pulled Mickey's body close, making their naked bodies press flush against each other. Their noses touched as Ian took a moment to appreciate what the universe had given him. The soft lines of Mickey's face, the blemishes, and the tiny scars -- the eyebrows Ian had joked were iconic to him -- everything that made Mickey Milkovich his Mickey.

A kid forged in hate and homophobia, morphed by the Southside into a short-tempered thug, capable of murder in the blink of an eye if you so much as looked at him wrong. A Milkovich taught to care for nobody but family, to stay loyal to them and never snitch, but also taught to put a bullet in their fucking heads if betrayed. A hard-ass and a thief, ready to shamelessly steal from any store of his choosing, barely giving a shit whether it lands him in juvie or not.

A man capable of so much love. A man who took care of Ian when he was at his worst, made sure to keep him safe and protected. The man who came out for him in front of his worst nightmare, all so he could keep Ian, even if he was nothing but a mess kept together by unawareness. A man capable of murder for Ian. A man capable of running away with Ian. A man capable of going back to prison for Ian. A man who loved Ian, and would always try to keep him safe.

"You done staring?" Mickey smirked at him.

Ian smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think I'll ever be." He then added, quietly, "I'm so lucky."

Mickey nodded, his lips mere inches away from Ian's. "I am too."

Soft lips moved against each other slowly, creating a rhythm Ian never wanted to lose.

He knew he never would.

His life, even after all the worst possible shit a person could imagine, was pretty fucking great. All thanks to Mickey.

His husband.

His partner.

His soulmate.

His worse half.

His Milkovich.

THE END

[watchmegetobsessed]

And I always will - Tom Holland

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

week 3 babies! it’s been so long since i last wrote for Tom and this story just screamed for him when I made up the plot. so here is some cute friends to lovers christmas edition! updated the fanficmas post with next week’s fic and added another one for the 24th, check it out if you are interested!

word count: 4.2k

masterlist

It’s not a date, it’s not a date, it’s not a date!

That’s your mantra for the evening and the closer the time is coming when Tom is picking you up, the louder you’re shouting it in your mind. Well, while it was sure he was nowhere near your apartment you physically kept telling yourself, heart pounding in your chest with each passing moment, but when he texted you that he’d be there in five you shut yourself up.

Stepping to the mirror you take one last look at yourself in your simple black dress and red blazer, a simple but fitting look for the annual Christmas party of the company you’re working for. You tug your hair behind your ears to make your earrings more apparent, they are like little red Christmas ornaments, the perfect touch up for the occasion and you also happen to know Tom loves how you wear them around the holidays every year.

This whole thing started a week ago when he was over for a movie night, something you often did when he was in town and you whined about having to go to the company party alone again and listen to your boss comment on how she was already married at your age. She is a very old school woman with strong beliefs that a woman should be able to catch herself a man at an early age if she doesn’t want to end up alone for the rest of her life.

You were only twenty three, not at all in rush to settle down, but you hated the teasing and commenting every year. It happened all through the year, but it was the worst at the Christmas party, because then she had the time to talk to you without the distraction of work, so she was able to touch on more personal topics as well.

Tom listened to you patiently, letting you rage about the irritation even the thought brings to you every year before proposing his idea.

“I could go with you and pretend to be your boyfriend.”

The words rolled off his tongue so easily, like it was nothing at all, when in reality it put your stomach into a knot immediately. It might have not mean anything to him other than just a friendly request but it meant so much more to you, being in love with the man for years.

Cliché, right? Falling for your best friend and keeping your emotions bottled up because you’re too afraid to come clear and possibly ruin your friendship. It sounds like a horrible teen movie, but this is the truth. It’s not something you can just blurt out without having to overthink about all the possible outcomes that would send you into a rabbit hole of the worst case scenarios until you are scared to talk about your feelings for life.

You were hesitant about his idea, but like every time, he managed to talk your ears off and convince that it would be a great idea.

“Lots are already thinking we are a couple, it would be easy!” he assured you, and he gave you a sly, cocky smirk, one you can never resist. So naturally, you said yes at the end and that brings you to this evening, when you’re nervously waiting for him to arrive to pick you up so the two of you could go to that stupid party together, pretending to be a couple.

You keep pacing back and forth in the small hallway as you wait for him to arrive and when you hear the knock on the door you jump.

It’s not a date, Y/N! Just pretentious!

You keep telling yourself your little mantra as you stride over to the door and open it for him. And there he is, handsome as ever, wearing black dress pants and a nice, crispy looking white shirt under his wool coat, the top buttons of the shirt left undone to let your greedy eyes a little hint of his toned chest underneath the fabric. You need to stop yourself from sucking on your breath, he looks so great, not just now, but all the damn time, making you feel lightheaded with just a simple smile.

“You look beautiful, girlfriend,” he tells you, putting a teasing tone into the last word and though it was just a joke, it made your heart flutter for sure.

“Thank you, boyfriend,” you shyly smile, the word tastes so sweet on your tongue, but there’s some hidden pain behind it.

“Ready to go?” You nod and grab your coat and purse before shutting the door behind you and locking the door.

The ride is short, but feels like forever. You’re anxiously chewing on your bottom lip, heart pounding in your chest and you fear that Tom might hear it and question you about it. This is so nerve-wrecking, and so not how you imagined to be his girlfriend for the first time.

Though it’s the closest you’ll get to the title, probably, you tell yourself, stomach churning at the thought.

“Hey,” Tom’s soft voice grabs your attention when he stops at a red light. “Nervous?”

“Just a little,” you nod shortly. “I just… want to my boss to take me seriously for once,” you lie, because there’s absolutely no way you are telling him it’s him that makes you shit your panties.

“I’ll be right there with you and we’ll charm the shit out of that woman,” he smirks making you laugh at his words.

“Hope so,” you mumble with a sigh, turning back to stare out the window.

Tom parks down in an empty spot near the venue that holds the part and he helps you out of the car giving you a hand, but he doesn’t let go of it once you are standing on your feet, holding your hand and even lacing your fingers together. When he gives it a gentle squeeze you peek up at him and notice that he is looking down at your with a warm smile as if he is trying to tell you that it’s gonna be alright without words. You try to swallow your anxious thoughts and hope he doesn’t find your hand too sweaty as the two of you head inside.

You work for a huge marketing company, one of the biggest ones in London. You landed an assistant job two years ago, fresh out of college and worked yourself up to be a fulltime graphic designer, mostly working on visuals for smaller campaigns running in the company, but you were proud of your work and enjoyed it to the fullest. One of the lead designers is rumored to retire sometime next year and you were hoping to be considered for his spot, thought there are quite a lot who has been working there for a longer time, but you felt like you have proven yourself to be suitable for the job. Tonight you are praying to charm your boss so she would move your name forward in the process and earn you a few good points at the admission, but this meant that you have to make her believe you are the definition of couple goals so she would get off your back and finally see that you are trying your best to move forward in life.

The venue is one big ball room, several tables set on the sides with the department’s name on the table to let people know where to sit, the luxurious decoration making the whole place appear like Winter Wonderland straight out of a fairytale. There’s a stage at the very back with a DJ already playing and a dancefloor in the middle, some guests are busting their best dance moves there, while others are enjoying the open buffet that runs along the two sides, tables filled with the most delicious looking meals.

A waiter greets you both, offering you champagne and you gladly take a glass while Tom shakes his head with a soft “I’m driving, thank you”.

Looking around you see some familiar faces but there are a lot new ones. The company has a whole office building with five floors and one usually stays on their own floor throughout the working days, you don’t interact much, so it’s hard to tell who you are working with on a wider level.

“Do you know where we are sitting?” Tom asks leaning closer to your ear so you hear what he is saying over the music and as his hot breath hits your neck it sends a shiver down your spine.

He is so close and his hand feels so warm on mine, you think to yourself while your eyes scan the place, trying to find your colleagues. When you spot them you pull Tom in their direction, plastering a nervous smile on your lips.

“Hi everyone!” you greet them arriving to the big, circular table. You work with a team of ten designers, some of them are older, but there are two around your age. Sally is twenty-five, her desk is right across yours and you’ve become closer, eating lunch together almost every day, and then there’s Owen, who is basically the office’s gossip source, always knows what happened to who and he makes sure to give the word away to the right people. Your older colleagues find him nosy, but you think it’s funny how he can still get any information from anyone even though he is known to have a big mouth. There’s just something about a tall, gay dude who approaches you with a sly smile, it’s like he puts a spell on people and they magically start talking. He often joins you and Sally for lunch, the three of you forming a club of young, ambitious people, holding each other up so you don’t get crushed by the judgy thirties.

When Owen looks up from his cocktail he almost spits it out seeing Tom standing next to you, holding your hand firmly.

“Little miss Y/N?! What is this supposed to be?” he gasps dramatically and you just chuckle shaking your head at him.

“This, is my uhh—This is my boyfriend, Tom,” you nervously introduce him and he waves around politely.

“Hi, nice to meet you all,” he calls out and most just acknowledge him with a nod and a hello, but Owen is over the roof that you just appeared with Tom Holland by your side.

“Why haven’t you tell me you were fucking Spider-Man himself?” he continues to rage and you almost choke on your own saliva hearing his words. Your cheeks start to heat up, but seemingly Tom doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as you, he just chuckles lightly, before pulling out your seat to help you sit before he takes the seat next to you.

Sally, who is sitting between you and Owen just slaps his chest in a warning manner.

“Control yourself!” she scolds him, but it only earns her an eye-roll.

“I’m sorry, but I feel offended I didn’t know about this,” he explains pointing at you and Tom.

“I hope you understand that I like to keep my private life, well, private. So it’s my fault Y/N hasn’t been bragging about us.” Tom rescues you from making up some stupid lie and you’re happy you didn’t have to say a word, so you just chug down half of your champagne in hopes it would ease your nerves a little.

Surprisingly, Owen backs off immediately, giving you a knowing look, as if he understood so well the life of a well-known actor even though he was far from being one.

“Oh, totally. I get it, don’t worry about it, Tom. Though I’m sure she’s been dying to talk about you all along.”

“Has she?” Tom teasingly looks down at you and you just let out an awkward chuckle nodding.

“Yeah. Exactly,” you mumble finishing off your champagne and putting it to the table. Tom can easily tell how nervous you are, so he puts a hand to your knee under the table and gives it a gentle squeeze, leaving it there afterwards, but it just rises your anxiety level. You are highly aware of every touch and look, as if your senses became hypersensitive all of a sudden, but only to Tom.

“So how long you two have been together?” Sally asks with a warm smile, trying her best to steal the opportunity from Owen to talk so he doesn’t say anything inappropriate and you are endlessly thankful to her for that.

“Um, couple of months,” you say the first thing that comes to your mind and from the corner of your eye you see Tom just nod along your words.

“And how do you know each other if I might ask?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, actually,” Tom speaks up this time. “Y/N’s dad used to work with my dad when we were younger and we sort of became friends. I was always in love with her, though it took me a long time to grow the balls to ask her out.” You are stunned at how easily he is talking about something that’s not real, as if he has been building up this story in his mind for a while, but that can’t be the case of it.

“Oh, this is so cute! And did you feel the same way?” Sally asks you. Licking your lips you glance over at Tom.

“Yeah. Loved him all along,” you softly say and it’s the truth, however he will probably never know about it.

“It’s like in the movies!” Sally gasps, holding her hand to her chest.

Tom’s eyes still hold yours and he gives your knee another squeeze that makes you take a deep breath before you tear your gaze away from him, feeling giddy and lightheaded.

You stay at the table a little longer before the two of you head to fill your plates before everything is fully gone. It’s kind of a relief to get away from Owen and Sally, you hated lying to them, but you had no choice.

“Everything alright?” Tom asks, brushing a hand against the small of your back as the two of you stand at the buffet, looking at the food.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you nod with a weak smile. “Just a little nervous,” you admit.

“Don’t be, we are doing just fine,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses your forehead gently. It’s nothing new, he often does this and the gesture always manages to pull you out of your boiling thoughts and it has the same effect this time as well. You feel like you can breathe again after holding it in for a long time.

You carelessly glance over your shoulder as you wait for Tom to finish packing his plate up with veggies when you spot your boss talking to a guy who you recall works as an accountant on a higher level. Her eyes move just enough to meet yours and you suck on your breath when she spots Tom next to you, right when he reaches out mindlessly sliding a hand to your waist.

“Oh God, she saw us,” you mumble under your breath as you watch her excuse herself from the guy and head in your way.

“Hm? What?” Tom lifts his head and his eyes quickly find the tall, lean woman walking towards you with ambitious and confident steps. Mrs. Winston is the kind of woman that could easily intimidate any high power man in the industry, and she worked hard to be where she is now. However, you don’t necessarily always share her beliefs of the world and life, for instance her vision of a woman marrying a man as young as possible.

“Y/N? Who is this handsome man you brought tonight?” she asks right away, eyes landing on Tom who has put his plate to the table behind him and circled an arm around your waist. Before you could even get a word out, Tom extends his other hand out for her, with a charming smile.

“Tom Holland. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Winston. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Oh God, you’ll never get used to hearing him say that and you’re amazed he remembered her name even though you just mentioned it earlier.

“Nice to meet you too. Call me Carol,” she smiles, seemingly already loving Tom and honestly, you can’t blame her. “I saw that you were bringing a plus one, but I was expecting a relative,” she comments finally paying you a glance and you can feel the sharpness in it, how she partially meant it as an insult, but you just smile at her widely.

“Oh, no. Hope you don’t mind it.”

“Not at all. So tell me, why do you look so familiar, Tom?”

“I’m an actor, you might have seen me in movies.” It takes Mrs. Winston to put the picture together, but when she eventually does, she gives you a highly approving look.

“Well yes! Now I remember! I think my son in law is a big fan.”

“Give him my best wishes,” Tom nods with a warm smile.

“You know, I’m happy to see Y/N finally with a worthy man by her side. I always told her to grab herself a good one before she runs out of time,” Mrs. Winston starts her usual sermon.

“Oh, I think Y/N is perfect on her own, I think she is an amazing individual,” Tom replies and your and Mrs. Winston’s eyebrows rise at the same time. “I don’t think a woman needs a man by her side to make her complete and I admire her strength as a person on her own, not just in a relationship.”

“Don’t you think a woman needs the support of a man to succeed in this man dominated world we live in?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head confidently and you feel him pull you closer to his side while you listen to his words curiously. “I think women deserve the recognition of them and their work and not to have it overshadowed by any men. I’m proud to be Y/N’s boyfriend and I’ll support her through everything, but I would never let anyone think of her as just a part of our relationship, or the person connected to me, because she is so much more than that and I want everyone to recognize that.”

You are at a loss of words, you knew Tom was a feminist, supporting women’s rights passionately, but you never heard him talk about it in a close relation with you. His words twisted your heart in the best possible way and though tonight is all about faking, something is telling you that these are his genuine thoughts, except the part about your relationship, but he could easily mean just your friendship under that.

Mrs. Winston seems stunned at the honest and forward answer, though you can tell it surprised her that someone went against her beliefs. However, it doesn’t seem like she is upset about it, more like she appreciates the balls that someone spoke up.

Her eyes fall back on you and there’s a small smile tugging at her red lips.

“He is a keeper, Y/N,” she simply tells you before walking away.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out when she is far away. Tom gives your waist another squeeze as he glances down at you with a smirk. “It’s like you put a spell on her!”

“I’m a charming bastard,” he shrugs smugly before grabbing his plate from the table and the two of you make your way back to the table.

Following the little talk with your boss you feel a lot more relaxed, knowing that Tom charmed the shit out of the woman. Now you are starting to enjoy the party, laughing with Sally and Owen and you’re happy to see that Tom is getting along with them pretty well too.

When the DJ starts playing All I Want For Christmas, the whole room cheers as one and most guests rush to the dance floor, that includes you and Tom as well.

He keeps you close, twirling you and moving around with you to the song, even singing it just like most people around you. Looking around you spot Mrs. Winston dancing as well, a lot more reserved than you, but she looks like she’s genuinely having a good time. She winks at you when your eyes meet and she sees Tom wrap an arm around your waist. You feel yourself blushing and you turn back to him, earning a sweet smile from him as he is enjoying the party.

When the song ends, the DJ slows it down a few knots playing Christmas Lights by Coldplay, people start to leave the dancefloor, only couple staying to slow dance to the song. Your eyes meet Tom and you thought he might want to go back to the table, but instead, his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you to his chest, starting to sway to the rhythm.

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you feel his body pressed against yours, his hands holding your waist firmly, and you cheek is next to his, occasionally brushing in the motions. You run your hands up his broad shoulders and rest them behind his neck, a shiver running down your spine when you hear him sing the lines into your ear:

“Like some drunken Elvis singing, I go singing out of tune, saying how I always loved you darling and I always will.”

You lean back just enough to look into his eyes, feeling like the words he sang were a message addressed straight to you and you needed to see it in his look. When your gazes meet your heart skips a beat when they validate your thoughts. He sang those lines on purpose and he wanted you to hear them, but still, you can’t bring yourself to say or do something. You just stand there, wrapped in his arms, eyes lost in his, swaying gently to the song.

He brings a hand up to your face and tugs your hair behind your ears, his yes fall to your earring and he can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips.

“I don’t know if this is the right time, but I feel like it is,” he softly starts, seemingly having a hard time to find his words. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you breathe out faintly.

“I love you.”

The words almost push you out of your balance, and you feel like you are falling down in a deep, endless hole. He said the words you’ve been aching to hear from him for so long, he really said them and he is looking at you with eyes you’ve only seen in the mirror when you were thinking about telling him about your feelings. But this time the look belongs to him and he is breathlessly waiting for you to say something in return.

“I love you too,” you softly tell him, brushing your fingers gently along his jawline. He breaks a relieved smile, but then furrows his eyebrows in a serious expression.

“Just to make it sure, you are not talking about a friendly love, right?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“No. Not friendly,” you assure him and he sighs in relief again.

“Great, because it would have been really awkward.”

You bite into your bottom lip, shyly staring up at him, a little lost about what should be said or done next, when you hear Owen call out from behind you.

“You guys are standing under the mistletoe! Kiss!”

First you turn to look at him and then you follow the direction where he is pointing and you see that you are in fact standing under a little mistletoe, hanging from the ceiling. Turning to face Tom you shyly smile at him, while he looks way more confident in himself.

“We can’t break the rule,” he chuckles teasingly, making you laugh as well before leaning down he captures your lips in a sweet, breathtaking kiss.

You feel like a teenager again, the butterflies are going wild in your stomach and you’re pretty sure your hands are shaking, but you couldn’t care less. All you could think about is Tom and that you were finally kissing him. Teenage you would lose her mind knowing you finally got to kiss him, after all those years of secretly dreaming about it.

Tom kisses you again and again until you both are breathing heavily, so he pulls back a little, resting his forehead against yours, his hands keeping you close to him.

“Wanna get out of here?” he breathes out and you nod your head eagerly.

“Fuck yes,” you chuckle making him laugh as well before he grabs your hand and pulls you back to the table to grab your stuff and then head out.

You don’t bother to say goodbye, or tell anyone you’ve left, you were busy feeling Tom’s hands touching you wherever he could, his lips finding yours every other minute. You both are a hot mess in the car on the way home and when you finally reach your apartment, you turn on the Christmas lights in your room, before Tom pulls you down to the bed and makes love to you all through the night.

-

general/forever taglist for Tom Holland

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Tom taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Tom fics!

@zaahidahhh @shawn-youth  @wildflower-cth @imaginashawnns @haute-shawn  @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @cutepenguin1 @madatmendes @harrysleftchelseaboot  @sarcasticallywitty15 @dontworrysunflower​

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

[impossiblelibrary]

Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

[jeannereames]

Hi, Dr. Reames! I just read your take on Song of Achilles and it got me thinking. Do you think there might be a general issue with the way women are written in mlm stories in general? Because I don't think it's the first time I've seen something like this happen.

And my next question is, could you delve further into this thing you mention about modern female authors writing women? How could we, beginner female writers, avoid falling into this awful representations of women in our writing?

Thank you for your time!

[It took a while to finish this because I wrote, re-wrote, and re-wrote it. Still not sure I like it, but I need to let it go. It could be 3xs as long.]

I’ll begin with the second half of the question, because it’s simpler. How do we, as women authors, avoid writing women in misogynistic ways?

Let me reframe that as how can we, as female authors, write negative (even quite nasty) female characters without falling into misogynistic tropes? Also, how can we write unsympathetic, but not necessarily “bad” female characters, without it turning misogynistic?

Because people are people, not genders, not all women are good, nor all men bad. Most of us are a mix. If we should avoid assuming powerful women are all bitches, by the same token, some women are bitches (powerful or not).

ALL good characterization comes down to MOTIVE. And careful characterization of minority characters involves fair REPRESENTATION. (Yes, women are a minority even if we’re 51% of the population.)

The question ANY author must ask: why am I making this female character a bitch? How does this characterization serve the larger plot and/or characterization? WHY is she acting this way?

Keep characters complex, even the “bad guys.” Should we choose to make a minority character a “bad guy,” we need to have a counter example—a real counter, not just a token who pops in briefly, then disappears. Yeah, maybe in an ideal world we could just let our characters “be,” but this isn’t an ideal world. Authors do have an audience. I’m a lot less inclined to assume stereotyping when we have various minority characters with different characterizations.

By the same token, however, don’t throw a novel against the wall if the first minority character is negative. Read further to decide if it’s a pattern. I’ve encountered reviews that slammed an author for stereotyping without the reader having finished the book. I’m thinking, “Uh…if you’d read fifty more pages….” Novels have a developmental arc. And if you’ve got a series, that, too, has a developmental arc. One can’t reach a conclusion about an author’s ultimate presentation/themes until having finished the book, or series.*

Returning to the first question, the appearance of misogyny depends not only on the author, but also on when she wrote, even why she’s writing. Authors who are concerned with matters such as theme and message are far more likely to think about such things than those who write for their own entertainment and that of others, which is more typical of Romance.

On average, Romance writers are a professionalized bunch. They have national and regional chapters of the Romance Writers of America (RWA), newsletters and workshops that discuss such matters as building plot tension, character dilemmas, show don’t tell, research tactics, etc. Yet until somewhat recently (early/mid 2010s), and a series of crises across several genres (not just Romance), treatment of minority groups hadn’t been in their cross-hairs. Now it is, with Romance publishers (and publishing houses more generally) picking up “sensitivity readers” in addition to the other editors who look at a book before its publication.

Yet sensitivity readers are hired to be sure lines like “chocolate love monkey” do not show up in a published novel. Yes, that really was used as an endearment for a black man in an M/M Romance, which (deservedly) got not just the author but the publishing house in all sorts of hot water. Yet misogyny, especially more subtle misogyny in the way of tropes, is rarely on the radar.

I should add that I wouldn’t categorize The Song of Achilles as an M/M historical Romance. In fact, I’m not sure what to call novels about myths, as myths don’t exist in actual historical periods. When should we set a novel about the Iliad? The Bronze Age, when Homer said it happened, or the Greek Dark Age, which is the culture Homer actually described? They’re pretty damn different. I’d probably call The Song of Achilles an historical fantasy, especially as mythical creatures are presented as real, like centaurs and god/desses.

Back to M/M Romance: I don’t have specific publishing stats, but it should surprise no one that (like most of the Romance genre), the vast bulk of authors of M/M Romance are women, often straight and/or bi- women. The running joke seems to be, If one hot man is good, two hot men together are better. 😉 Yes, there are also trans, non-binary and lesbian authors of M/M Romance, and of course, bi- and gay men who may write under their own name or a female pseudonym, but my understanding is that straight and bi- cis-women authors outnumber all of them.

Just being a woman, or even a person in a female body, does not protect that author from misogyny. And if she’s writing for fun, she may not be thinking a lot about what her story has to “say” in its subtext and motifs, even if she may be thinking quite hard about other aspects of story construction. This can be true of other genres as well (like historical fantasy).

What I have observed for at least some women authors is the unconscious adoption of popular tropes about women. Just as racism is systemic, so is sexism. We swim in it daily, and if one isn’t consciously considering how it affects us, we can buy into it by repeating negative ideas and acting in prescribed ways because that’s what we learned growing up. If writing in a symbol-heavy genre such as mythic-driven fantasy, it can be easy to let things slip by—even if they didn’t appear in the original myth, such as making Thetis hostile to Patroklos, the classic Bitchy Mother-in-Law archetype.

I see this sort of thing as “accidental” misogyny. Women authors repeat unkind tropes without really thinking them through because it fits their romantic vision. They may resent it and get defensive if the trope is pointed out. “Don’t harsh my squee!” We can dissect why these tropes persist, and to what degree they change across generations—but that would end up as a (probably controversial) book, not a blog entry. 😊

Yet there’s also subconscious defensive misogyny, and even conscious/semi-conscious misogyny.

Much debate/discussion has ensued regarding “Queen Bee Syndrome��� in the workplace and whether it’s even a thing. I think it is, but not just for bosses. I also would argue that it’s more prevalent among certain age-groups, social demographics, and professions, which complicates recognizing it.

What is Queen Bee Syndrome? Broadly, when women get ahead at the expense of their female colleagues who they perceive as rivals, particularly in male-dominated fields, hinging on the notion that There Can Be Only One (woman). It arises from systemic sexism.

Yes, someone can be a Queen Bee even with one (or two) women buddies, or while claiming to be a feminist, supporting feminist causes, or writing feminist literature. I’ve met a few. What comes out of our mouths doesn’t necessarily jive with how we behave. And ticking all the boxes isn’t necessary if you’re ticking most of them. That said, being ambitious, or just an unpleasant boss/colleague—if its equal opportunity—does not a Queen Bee make. There must be gender unequal behavior involved.

What does any of that have to do with M/M fiction?

The author sees the women characters in her novel as rivals for the male protagonists. It gets worse if the women characters have some “ownership” of the men: mothers, sisters, former girlfriends/wives/lovers. I know that may sound a bit batty. You’re thinking, Um, aren’t these characters gay or at least bi- and involved with another man, plus—they’re fictional? Doesn’t matter. Call it fantasizing, authorial displacement, or gender-flipped authorial insert. We authors (and I include myself in this) can get rather territorial about our characters. We live in their heads and they live in ours for months on end, or in many cases, years. They’re real to us. Those who aren't authors often don’t quite get that aspect of being an author. So yes, sometimes a woman author acts like a Queen Bee to her women characters. This is hardly all, or even most, but it is one cause of creeping misogyny in M/M Romance.

Let’s turn to a related problem: women who want to be honorary men. While I view this as much more pronounced in prior generations, it’s by no means disappeared. Again, it’s a function of systemic sexism, but further along the misogyny line than Queen Bees. Most Queen Bees I’ve known act/react defensively, and many are (imo) emotionally insecure. It’s largely subconscious. More, they want to be THE woman, not an honorary man.

By contrast, women who want to be honorary men seem to be at least semi-conscious of their misogyny, even if they resist calling it that. These are women who, for the most part, dislike other women, regard most of “womankind” as either a problem or worthless, and think of themselves as having risen above their gender.

And NO, this is not necessarily religious—sometimes its specifically a-religious.

“I want to be an honorary man” women absolutely should NOT be conflated with butch lesbians, gender non-conformists, or frustrated FTMs. That plays right into myths the queer community has combated for decades. There’s a big difference between expressing one’s yang or being a trans man, and a desire to escape one’s womanhood or the company of other women. “Honorary men” women aren’t necessarily queer. I want to underscore that because the concrete example I’m about to give does happen to be queer.

I’ve talked before about Mary Renault’s problematic portrayal of women in her Greek novels (albeit her earlier hospital romances don’t show it as much). Her own recorded comments make it clear that she and her partner Julie Mullard didn’t want to be associated with other lesbians, or with women much at all. She was also born in 1905, living at a time when non-conforming women struggled. If extremely active in anti-apartheid movements in South Africa, Renault and Mullard were far less enthused by the Gay Rights Movement. Renault even criticized it, although she wrote back kindly to her gay fans.

The women in Renault’s Greek novels tend to be either bitches or helpless, reflecting popular male perceptions of women: both in ancient Greece and Renault’s own day. If we might argue she’s just being realistic, that ignores the fact one can write powerful women in historical novels and still keep it attitudinally accurate. June Rachuy Brindel, born in 1919, author of Ariadne and Phaedra, didn’t have the same problem, nor did Martha Rofheart, born in 1917, with My Name is Sappho. Brindel’s Ariadne is much more sympathetic than Renault’s (in The King Must Die).

Renault typically elevates (and identifies with) the “rational” male versus the “irrational” female. This isn’t just presenting how the Greeks viewed women; it reflects who she makes the heroes and villains in her books. Overall, “good” women are the compliant ones, and the compliant women are tertiary characters.

Women in earlier eras who were exceptional had to fight multiple layers of systemic misogyny. Some did feel they had to become honorary men in order to be taken seriously. I’d submit Renault bought into that, and it (unfortunately) shows in her fiction, as much as I admire other aspects of her novels.

So I think those are the three chief reasons we see women negatively portrayed in M/M Romance (or fiction more generally), despite being written by women authors.

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

*Yeah, yeah, sometimes it’s such 2D, shallow, stereotypical presentation that I, as a reader, can conclude this author isn’t going to get any better. Also, the publication date might give me a clue. If I’m reading something published 50 years ago, casual misogyny or racism is probably not a surprise. If I don’t feel like dealing with that, I close the book and put it away.

But I do try to give the author a chance. I may skim ahead to see if things change, or at least suggest some sort of character development. This is even more the case with a series. Some series take a loooong view, and characters alter across several novels. Our instant-gratification world has made us impatient. Although by the same token, if one has to deal with racism or sexism constantly in the real world, one may not want to have to watch it unfold in a novel—even if it’s “fixed” later. If that’s you, put the book down and walk away. But I’d just suggest not writing a scathing review of a novel (or series) you haven’t finished. 😉

[gianarosegoestothemovies]

New Queer Cinema

Starting from the late 1980s through early 1990s, a “new wave” of queer films became critically acclaimed in the film industry, allowing the freedom of sexuality to be featured in films without the burden of approval from the audience. This raw and honest film genre displays the truth, secrets, and vulnerability of the LGBTQ+ community and the representation that is deserved. The New Queer Cinema movement was started by scholar Ruby Rich who wrote “This movement in film and video was intensely political and aesthetically innovative, made possible by the debut of the camcorder, and driven initially by outrage over the unchecked spread of AIDS. The genre has grown to include an entire generation of queer artists, filmmakers, and activists.” (Rich) This movement started from Rich’s writing piece, not the filmmakers themselves. An article by Sam Moore discusses Rich’s start of the movement. He states, “Rich acknowledges that the films and filmmakers she considers under the umbrella of New Queer Cinema (including Todd Haynes, Cheryl Dunye, Isaac Julien, Gus Van Sant and Gregg Araki), don’t share a single aesthetic vocabulary or strategy or concern.” Instead, they’re unified by the ways that they queer existing narratives, subvert expectations and foreground queerness in material where it had been only implicit” (Moore). The journey through the New Queer Movement started with Ruby Rich defining the movement through her writing and inspiring filmmakers to continue producing movies with the correct representation.

           Actress from Gone with the Wind Susan Hayward claimed that Queer cinema existed “decades” before an official title was given to the genre. French filmmaker Jean Cocteau created Le sang d'un poète in 1934 which is documented as one of the earliest Queer films. This avant-garde style of film is associated with Queer cinema filmmakers such as and is displayed in many upcoming films such as Ulrike Ottinger, Chantal Akerman and Pratibha Parmar. The influence of Queer theory that emerged from the late 1980s helped guide the movement with the creators. The theory states "Challenge and push further debates on gender and sexuality.” Another closely related statement by feminist theory states,"Confuse binary essentialisms around gender and sexual identity, expose their limitations.” Queer cinema filmmakers were sometimes known to depict their films in a “mainstream” way that is agreeable to the audience. There was no exposure to the truths and horrors that the LGBTQ+ community experience and had a lack of representation of historical elements or themes. The concept of “straightwashing” was described to filmmaker Derek Jarman’s 1991 historical film Edward II. This film received backlash from the LGBTQ+ community due to the film’s queer representation catering to heterosexuality and heteronormativity.  

           The truth of the movement was for Queer films to stop romanticizing or bringing positive images of gay men and lesbian woman. The push for authenticity and liberation for the community needed to be represented in films. New Queer films were more radical and sought to challenge social norms of “identity, gender, class, family and society.” (Wikiwand.com).

           To quote the amazing drag queen of all time RuPaul “Everyone is born naked, and the rest is drag” the idea of gender identity and representation in the community is unlimited, why do you need to follow the norms of society when anything is possible? The late 90s documentary Paris is Burning introduced the audience to drag culture in New York City and the people of color who were involved in the community. The term “aesthetic” was repetitive in the research of New Queer Cinema which suggests the significance involved with the style of the films. The documentary includes the aesthetic of the drag world involving the makeup, fashion, and politics. AIDS activism was involved heavily in New Queer films and ridiculed the failure of Ronald Reagans acknowledgment of epidemic and the social stigma experienced by the gay community. Conservative politics occurred during this movement resulting in lack of media coverage and government assistance for the LGTBQ+ community. This political struggle did not discourage the community and the fight is still continuing today.

           Beginning in the 2010s LGBT filmmakers Rose Troche and Travis Mathews created a “newer trend” in queer filmmaking that evolved toward more universal audience appeal. In an article from Wikiwand.com states,

           “Rich, the originator of the phrase New Queer Cinema, has identified the emergence in the late 2000s of LGBT-themed mainstream films such as Brokeback Mountain, Milk, and The Kids Are All Right as a key moment in the evolution of the genre.[20] Both Troche and Mathews singled out Stacie Passon’s 2013 Concussion, a film about marital infidelity in which the central characters' lesbianism is a relatively minor aspect of a story and the primary theme is how a long-term relationship can become troubled and unfulfilling regardless of its gender configuration, as a prominent example of the trend” (Wikiwand).

           The film Watermelon Woman was one of the first queer films I watched for a film class, and this film allowed me to dive deeper into the subject I care a lot about which is the representation of queer narratives about woman of color. Queer woman and men deal with the most discrimination. It is unfair and cruel to see the difference of racial treatment in the LGBTQ+ community because the backbone motto is full exclusion and equal rights. The film Watermelon Woman shined light on LGBTQ+ black woman and interrogated the “Mammy” stereotype that most films depict about black actresses. Minority narratives were pushed into the circuit of the movement with developed into the later academy-award winning film Moonlight that displays those representations makes film history!

           Films to recognize in the height of the New Queer film movement are

Mala Noche (1986), Gus Van Sant, was an exploration of desire through the eyes of a young white store clerk named Walt and his obsession with a young undocumented immigrant named Johnny. The film is shot in black and white on 16mm film, contains many of the early Van Sant fixations that viewers would later see get refined in My Own Private Idaho, including male hustlers, illegality, and class.

Chinese Characters (1986), Richard Fung, this early film asks still-pressing questions about the nature of gay desire when it’s mediated via pornographic images of white men. The video defies genre, mixing documentary with performance art and archival footage to explore the tensions of being a gay Asian man looking at porn.

Looking for Langston (1989), Isaac Julien, this short film, a tribute to the life and work of Langston Hughes, is a beautiful and vibrant elegy. Julien creates a lineage of queer black ancestors for himself. The film moves like the poetry it recites, playing with the gaze and how various eyes look upon the black male body.

Tongues Untied (1989), Marlon Riggs, guided by the writer Joseph Beam’s statement, “Black men loving black men is the revolutionary act,” Riggs goes through his own complicated journey of homophobia from other black people, and then racism in the gay community, to find a community of queer black people.

Poison (1991), Todd Haynes, the three parts of the film tell a story about ostracism, violence, and marginality: the bullied child who allegedly flies away after shooting his father in order to save his mother (“Hero”), a brilliant scientist who accidentally ingests his own serum to become the “leper sex killer” (“Horror”), and a sexual relationship between two men in a prison (“Homo”). Exploits radical work that Haynes later uses in his other films.

The Living End (1992), Gregg Araki, the film follows Luke, a sexy homicidal drifter who has a distaste for T-shirts, and Jon, an uptight film critic in Los Angeles. Both are HIV-positive, and as their relationship unfolds, they fight about being respectful or lustrous.  

Swoon (1992), Tom Kalin, a black and white film that romanticizes wealthy Chicago lovers kill a 14-year-old boy named Bobby Franks because they want to see if they are smart enough to do it. The murder is more a play of power between them, with Loeb weaponizing sex as a way to control Leopold.

Rock Hudson’s Home Movies (1992), Mark Rappaport, Rock Hudson’s Home Movies is a documentary made up of glances and innuendos from Rock Hudson’s persona, displaying how this dashing, leading man of the Hollywood Golden Age was a closeted gay man.

MURDER and Murder (1996), Yvonne Rainer, is known for her experimental filmmaking and choreography, this film represents a late-in-life lesbian named Doris who suffers from neuroses and breast cancer. Her partner, Mildred, a queer academic, tells the story of their romance as older women. Rainer also makes appearances throughout the film in a tux, going on rants about smug homophobic parents while showing her bare chest with a mastectomy scar.

           1992 was the year of the highest amount of New Queer films being produced and exceeding box office expectations. Upcoming 2000s films such as “Booksmart”, “Call me by your Name”, “The Prom”, and “Rocketman” all represent the truths and authenticity of the LGBTQ+ community and creates pathways for more films to include these cinematic themes. The movement continues to grow and succeed in the film industry with new creators and actors being more honest about the LGBTQ+ community.

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I wrote this months ago and let it sit on the shelf. I’m finally ready to dust it off and give it another go...so let’s see what it do...

Part iii - Trifecta

Torren Sykes hadn’t lived what anyone would consider an exciting life. In fact, in her twenty-three years, she had only just left her mom’s double-wide trailer in East Bumble Fuck less than a year ago. Not quite 365 days later, she still didn’t have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.

Truthfully, she usually didn’t know where she would be getting her next meal - that sort of thing wasn’t really a big deal to her. She actually liked the mystery of it all. There was something undeniably sexy about not knowing what the day would bring - who she would run into, or have to take something off of to survive. If someone else had to get hurt so she could make it through another day, such was life. She’d won. Those other people just needed to be better at playing the fucking game, plain and simple. 

Besides, pulling a caper or two kept her on her toes. She learned how to pull off the best of them from her mother. It’s not like adulting was one of Leslie’s strong suits. 

If only her mother had been more like her Me-Maw, now that woman was a saint. For reasons that Torren never cared to ask, she lived with her Me-Maw until she was five years old.  Leslie would periodically visit her to drop off the obligatory present on Christmas or her birthday if that bitch remembered. Not that they were ever good presents – just some cheap ass, unwrapped items she happened to pick up at the dollar store. Torren couldn't remember a gift that she had received wasn't still in the plastic bag with the receipt in it.

Cheap, whore.

Just once she would have liked a real baby doll from Toys-R-Us, instead of those cheap, hard, plastic dolls that the hand molds weren't cut out evenly, and the jagged edges cut the shit out of her face when she tried to sleep with it. But, that was Leslie. Torren didn't choose her; Leslie sure as shit didn't choose her daughter.

It became painfully clear to Torren that her mother didn’t want anything to do with her after her Me-Maw died. Unfortunately, she found herself as her mother’s unwitting roommate at a very young age, forcing the girl to spend a lot of time alone. 

By the time she turned nine, Torren was convinced that her mother was a prostitute and she was a trick baby. It was the only explanation she could come up with seeing as how her mother never worked but always had enough money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and have plenty of booze, chips, and hot dogs in the fridge. 

Not that Torren had many other life experiences with a working parent to compare her situation to, but it just seemed pretty fucking difficult to have a job if one were passed out drunk all the fucking time. Besides, who had time to work when during your waking hours you were spending them with one of your many, many boyfriends? 

Torren used to wonder if one of the multitudes of men that would traipse in and out of that trailer were her father - but the more she got to know what type of person Leslie was, the more she realized that whoever that guy was, had gotten the hell out of dodge. 

Lucky son-of-a-bitch. 

But for all of Leslie’s flaws, she did manage to impart her three philosophies of life onto her daughter - the three things that Torren still lived by to this day. It was the least she could do. God knows that whore sure as fuck didn’t do anything else for her.

Mama’s Life Lessons #1 - There is no such thing as too much black eyeliner

As trivial as it sounded, it proved to be a precious lesson. Shortly after she had moved into the trailer, Leslie had forced Torren to sit on the bed and watch as she got ready for another one of her "dates". She had told the little girl that beautiful eyes were the one good gene that ran in their family. “You got to learn how to work ‘em,” Leslie exhaled a long plume of smoke at her reflection in the vanity mirror, “You listenin'? This's important. This right here," she held up the black liner pencil, “is gonna be your best friend.”

Of course, Torren had no idea what she meant. How was a pencil going to her friend? She didn’t really care so much as what her mother was saying to her at the moment, it was more of the fact that she was actually talking to her that made Torren hang on to every word. 

That’s why she picked up the black liner pencil from her mother's cluttered vanity table and leaned over to look in the mirror. She tried tracing her bottom lid, the way her mother had done, but at six it was a little easier said than done. She had just learned how to color inside the lines with a fat crayon; mastering the art of applying liner would have to wait a few more years. 

Leslie, however, was not willing to wait that long, "What the hell's amatta wit'chu, Dumbass? You doin' it all wrong," she said snatching the pencil from the girl's hand. Grabbing Torren roughly by the chin she said, "Gotta teach you every goddamn thing. Hold still." She mumbled more curses and said something about her good-for-nothing mother not teaching her brat anything useful.

By the time she had finished cursing her name, Leslie roughly turned her daughter's head toward the mirror, "Yeah you got those eyes. Now, learn to use ‘em.” Leslie dropped the pencil onto the vanity before picking up her drink and shooing Torren away. 

That was the day that Drew Watkins bought her an ice cream. It had to be the eyeliner. It was a true fact, not just another one of her mother's drunken theories. Eyeliner and her eyes...she didn’t know how she used them, but they worked.

From that day on Torren opted to never step foot outside without heavy black liner again. 

Mama’s Life Lessons #2 - As long as there are men around that want to fuck you, you will never need to work

It wasn’t like she going to go out and get a real job. She wasn’t raised with much of a work ethic. She was too young to remember if her Me-Maw worked and what she gathered from her mother was that there would always be men around to take care of her. 

Leslie told her that she didn’t need to work because working a man was a full-time job. If she were doing that right, she wouldn’t have time for a fucking 9-5. It didn’t matter if he was in a relationship, gay, or the fucking Pope. As long as he a dick and she could bend over, and her eyes were done, her rent was as good as paid. 

If she wanted more than just the basic bills paid, she would have to rethink what all she was willing to do - but just make sure she didn’t do too much otherwise she couldn’t guarantee a steady paycheck every week.

This sage advice didn’t make much sense to 8-year-old Torren, but as the years progressed she started to work it into one of her life’s mottos. She would never want for anything. She could always rely on the kindness of strangers and when that got to be too boring, she could always take it, just to spice things up a bit.  

Mama’s Life Lessons #3 - If you want something do whatever it takes to make sure you get it

As a child that grew up with the television as a babysitter, Torren Sykes knew that she was destined to love Ivar “Lothbrok” Ragnarsson since she was a little girl. Ever since that day she turned on the TV and saw this adorable blue-eyed boy drawing Mickey Mouse ears saying, “I’m Ivar Lothbrok and you’re watching the Disney Channel,” she knew that he had to be hers. 

He was co-starring on a show called The Baker Boys, about three foster kids, who had come to live with a family that owned a bakery. Ivar’s character was named Simon Baker - a mischievous kid that lived with his grandmother until she died and never felt like he fit in with this cookie-cutter family. 

His life was just like hers - minus the cookie-cutter family that loved him and all. She was actually with more of an alcoholic whore that didn’t give a shit if she lived or died, and not pulling stunts in a bakery with flour and messing up orders like him, but she still saw them as kindred spirits. 

When the show got canceled she was devastated. How dare the world try to keep her from her man? Didn’t they understand this was love? Didn’t those people at Disneyland know that he was the only person in the world that understood her?

As if on queue, she happened to find the Season 2 DVD box-set at the library one afternoon. Her mother had kicked her out of the trailer because she had a date and couldn’t have the dumbass child around fucking things up for her. Torren had nothing else to do - at 11-years-old, she had no money, and nowhere to go. At least the library was air-conditioned. 

She wanted that box-set. Slipping it into her backpack unnoticed was the easy part. Trying to get it past the alarms would be harder. She watched for a while, paying particular attention to the way the check-out system worked. 

When the librarians changed shifts, she let a smile cross her lips as she picked a few random books from the shelves. 

Her beautiful eyes went as big as saucers when the alarm buzzed, and the young male librarian looked down at her, still clutching the large reference book to her check. Carefully she had stepped across to the other side of the alarm sensor waiting to collect the books she was checking out.

“I’m sorry, you can’t check out reference books,” the young man said, blinking his hazel eyes at Torren, the corner of his lip tugging into a smile.

She let a pout fall on her lips as she lowered her large eyes down to the book in her arms, “Oh...sorry.” She handed the book back, “I didn’t realize I still had it.” And like that, she walked out of the library with her prize.

She had stolen for Ivar...now if that wasn’t love what was?

The only thing that had threatened their love through the years is when Ivar got married. It damn near broke Torren’s heart. How could he be so cruel? She didn’t give a fuck that the marriage was short-lived. She even understood why he had to do it. He had gotten that bitch pregnant, and he didn’t have much choice. But, he cut her deep. 

Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Didn’t he know that she stuck by him when he had joined 6cess and had seen him in concert 3 times? She still had the autographed photo of the two of them from the signing at Spring Hills Mall - when she was wearing that blue midriff cardigan and ripped jeans and he had his arm around her. That shirt brought out the color in his eyes. She even wore Happy, which he said was his favorite perfume. She thought it smelled like Comet, but she stole a bottle of it from Macy’s right before the photo-op to smell good for him. 

And he went and pulled this shit?

Besides, Johnny Law said that she was still too young for him and that he could get arrested for being with her. She knew that he had to pretend to have a normal life so that no one would know about their love affair. She was just understanding like that. It gave her time to grow up a little more so that when they could he be together, the law wouldn't be standing in their way. She really didn't give a fuck, but she suspected he did. Why else hadn't he come for her?

Torren didn’t even like their music. She wasn’t a boyband kind of girl, but for him, she would make the exception. She was more of the gangsta rap or heavy metal type girl. But if Ivar was serenading her, she’d listen to sappy, wrist-slitting, emo, shit rock all fucking day long, because she loved him. 

She hated that he had gotten that whore pregnant, too. She understood that he had to pretend that they had a normal marriage. She knew that when he was fucking that bitch, he was really imagining it was her. The years apart had made him a master at hiding his true feelings for her. He couldn't give anyone cause for suspicion. If he let on the truth he could risk losing everything…his house, cars, job, and his kid. That whore was trying to keep them apart. But, she was just a small obstacle that posed no real threat to Torren.

She did not doubt that she would be his daughter's new mommy. The kid would probably be sad at first that she wouldn't be with that other woman like Torren had been when her grandmother died. But, the kid would get used to it. Torren was going to be a whole hell of a lot better at being a mom than her piece of shit mother was to her. That was for damn sure. She was going to teach her stepdaughter all about eyeliner, and how to dye her hair. 

She was going to teach her what party clothes every woman should have in her wardrobe and how to get a man to do whatever she wanted by just batting her eyes at him. She would even share her secrets on what pills to mix and what dosages to give for submission, making a man catatonic, and if she was really good, she'd teach what to put in a drink to kill someone. Hell, she even planned on giving the child her most discrete drug contacts. That would of course have to wait until she was older – at least 13. She was going to be such a good mommy. 

Ivar's daughter was going to love Torren as much as Torren loved him. They were going to be the perfect family.

Torren was as hopelessly devoted to Ivar as he was to her. He had waited for her to become legal. Just months before she was old enough to legally consent to sex, and get married without parental permission, his marriage started falling apart. She knew that Ivar was trying to make a clean break from his wife, and get his daughter used to the idea of them being apart before he could come home to her. 

Torren had been thoughtful and respectful enough to give him that space to make sure everything was right before she stepped into the role of the new Mrs. Lothbrok. He had to test the waters, make sure that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had to get back into the swing of things…have sex constantly to make sure he could keep up with her. She knew that "the prude" wasn't doing it nearly as often as he needed to - why else would he have an Only Fans page?

Torren was the only one that could feed his appetite, and he hers.

Now, they were both finally ready. She was mature and developed. She knew what she needed, and it was him. He had his fun before her, but now he was auditioning again and getting everything back on track for them. He had a great relationship with his daughter and his dumb ass ex-wife finally understood that their relationship was a fling that went too far.

His face told her everything that her heart already knew. He loved her. 

Why else would be looking at her like that? She could feel herself blush when he smiled on Instagram like that into them. Then he gave her that smile. That was her smile; the one that he reserved for her during their private times. Yet, there he was doing it in front of an audience of millions, and he didn't care who saw it. He had to let her know that it was time for her to come home. It was like a sleeper cell being awakened.

She didn't have a choice. She did what any other woman in her position would do. She packed a bag, threw it in the car she stole a few days before and drove. Armed with her trifecta of knowledge and determination, she prepared to face the obstacles that were bound to get in her way. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting her man.

Nothing.

Part ii || Part iv

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1​  @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @didiintheblog​ @conaionaru​ @peachyboneless​ @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927​ @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys @didiintheblog​  @revolution-starter​

[criminalminds4days]

Family Matters | Chapter 5: Emily's Intervention

Hello people of tumblr!!

I hope all of you had an excellent New Year's! I got so trashed that it lasted until yesterday 🤣 I guess that makes sense considering how horrible 2020 was.

Anyway, I hope all of you had a great time and that 2021 becomes a good year for you all. Because I will be spending a lot of time with family until the 11th of this month, I have decided that I will take January to write as many chapters as possible and I will return to posting in February!

Also, I have posted the story on Wattpad, and I will be updating simultaneously.

With all that said, I hope you all enjoy chapter 5 of Family Matters 🎉🎉

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, violence and murder references, public embarrassment, and very bad jokes!

Word Count: 3.2k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tag list: @mcntsee @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @evelyncade @haylaansmi @paulaern @myfandomlife-blog

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(This gif is not mine)

Chapter 5: Emily’s Intervention

The importance of the following couple of days is the only reason our story will address them. Understanding the events that occurred is vital for the upcoming chapters that our favorite agents will face.

The following questions needed an answer:

What did Emily and Spencer talk about?

Why was Spencer so upset?

And perhaps, the most important, why was Emily at Spencer's apartment with Hunger Games Pajamas?

Well, let us do a quick rewind before we move on to the consequences of the visit of Tyler Hemingway and the answers to the questions above.

Emily opened the door to his room, a very surprised Derek and Spencer observed her. She didn't say a word until she was right in front of the two men, taking a few seconds to observe their reactions, making sure it was known she didn't come in a friendly mood.

"You, out." She said to the dark-skinned man, with no emotion, and a serious face as she pointed to the door.

"Excuse me? Emily this is my room, I don't know what-"

"I said, get out." Her tone was deadly, "now." She didn't raise her voice, but the message was clear.

"I am leaving, but it is definitely not because I am scared of you, it's simply because I have an appointment with a cup of coffee." He stood and walked towards the door, careful to avoid any close contact with her.

"Yeah, let's go." The brunette said, standing up and walking towards the door, only to be stopped by the woman.

"You, sit."

"I am sitting." He returned to the edge of his bed, "and it is definitely because you terrify me."

"Derek, if I find out you're spying on this conversation..."

"It's not like I want to know." He said quickly looking at the doctor one last time, with pity clear in his eyes and he rushed out the door making sure to close it behind him.

The man left in the room gulped before speaking again. "Am I going to die?"

"Not if you listen to me." She sat at the edge of Morgan's bed and her demeanor changed. She seemed more relaxed and even excited. That shift alone had the man planning for ways to run out the door without falling victim to Emily Prentiss. "Now, Spencie-"

"Please don't call me that."

"Fine, Baby genius." She smiled at him, in a slightly more terrifying manner than her demeanor when she arrived. "We need to talk about the situation that occurred during our drive to the hospital."

"What is there to talk about?"

"Can you explain to me, honey, why you are upset with our friend?"

"Please don't call me honey, it's somehow worse than Spencie."

"Answer. My. Question."

"I already told you guys, I'm upset that she's letting this guy walk all over her."

"See, I can't believe that, because you stated that part of the reason for your anger was that you still came after this Tyler character, so please tell me, what's that about?"

"She left me behind, remember? She didn't pick me up." He said as he played with his hands. Jumping out the window wasn't sounding so bad, even if they were on the third floor. If he calculated correctly, he could probably survive it.

"And that's all?" He nodded, and she sighed, clearly frustrated. "Let me try a different approach."

"I'm scared." He mumbled.

"Spencer Reid," she began, that smile still on her lips. "Is there anything you don't like about her?"

"Yeah, I mean, for once, she sleeps on the right side of the bed, which is my side, so when I had to sleep in the same bed as her I had to sleep on the left side! The left side Emily!"

"Did she ask you for that?"

"No, of course not. I just kind of did it."

"Okay, what else don't you like?"

"That she's so naive, she believes people always have good intentions, and she's always getting hurt because she doesn't understand that not everyone comes from an honest and good place. I mean she's a profiler and yet she falls for the same tricks over and over again. But that also means she's really empathetic, and nice which I guess is not a down falling but a virtue, so I guess I can't really say I don't like that of her."

"Interesting." Emily's smile turned more genuine. "Now, what are some of the things you like about her."

"I mean, she's a great friend, a reliable agent, and she's so funny. She has similar interests to me, and whenever we hang out there is nothing we can't talk about." A smile appeared on his face as the memories of their time together became clear in his mind. "She has this bright energy around her, and it simply pulls you towards her, I also love her clumsiness, it makes her, well her. I love when she laughs, and I love being around her, and there are these times where she'll rest her head on my shoulders or she'll accidentally brush her hand on mine and I get this feeling, that I have never-" He stopped, looking straight at Emily as he reached the same conclusion as her. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"I like her. Like really like her, don't I?"

"Yes, you do." Emily hugged him, "I am so glad you finally came to terms with it." She let go of him and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Now, what are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing."

"WHAT?"

"I mean, she obviously doesn't feel the same, and even if she did, you know the rules. I wouldn't want to make her transfer, nor do I want to transfer."

"Spencer, you are seriously going to let the love of your life walk away simply because of your job?"

"I never said she was the love of my life." Emily rolled her eyes, "besides, we're really good friends, and I don't want to ruin that."

"Ugh, you are so dumb for a genius." He wanted to object, but she continued. "This is what we are going to do, you can take the rest of the week, to think about her, and if you two are worth the trouble. Once this case is over, I will go to your apartment and we will discuss the next steps over some glasses of wine. Those are more for me than for you because I'm gonna need a lot of patience." He furrowed his eyebrows but she didn't even register it. "Now, because of your little scene from earlier, you have some space, so use this to your advantage. Make me proud son."

"No, no. Please never call me son again. That was very disturbing."

"Well, then do the right thing." She walked out of the room, and he sat there, wishing Emily had never made him realize how he felt.

Now, ignoring her was torture, because all he could think of was her lips on his, or their hands intertwined, her laughing at something he said as they ate dinner, or watching a movie as they cuddled on her sofa. This was bad, it was a bad thing that was happening right now.

She was his friend, and even then, he still thought she had feelings for her ex-boyfriend. It was a disaster.

"So, what's your conclusion?"

That was the first thing Emily said when he opened the door. She was wearing black pajamas with the Mockingjay symbol from The Hunger Games, her hair was in a ponytail and she had a big reusable grocery bag on her shoulder that seemed full of something he couldn't quite make out, at least until he heard the glass clink and reached a pretty solid conclusion of what was in the bag.

"I need new friends."

She seemed unfazed by his comment and simply moved past him towards his living room. "No, no, please come in. I insist." He mumbled as he closed the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, we need to make a game plan, but we need to hurry, we don't have much time before she arrives."

"Did you invite her?"

"No, but she's on her dinner with Tyler, and if he's as horrible as I think he is, she'll be here in about an hour or so, after realizing he just wanted to have sex with her."

She pulled a wine bottle out of her bag and roomed through his drawers to grab a wine glass and opened the bottle. "I would offer you, but I need you sober tonight."

"That just sounds so wrong."

"Don't worry about it, Doctor. Now, have you thought about your options?"

"I already told you Emily, our friendship and our jobs are not worth risking for some feelings that will most likely fade away."

"Why are smart people so dumb?" She asked no one in particular.

"First of all, that's offensive. Second, we don't know if she feels the same way, and third of all, in the extreme and highly unlikely case in which she did, the probability of us working out would be almost null."

"Spencer, I love you. I really do, but you need to learn how to read social cues. I am almost one-hundred percent sure she likes you, you've both liked each other for longer than you think, and I get it, your jobs are important, but when you decide to leave, what's gonna be waiting for you?"

He remained silent for a couple of minutes taking in her words. She stared at him, as she sipped more and more wine.

"I don't do, relationships really well. What if I lose her and then it all becomes worse?"

"What if you lose her because you're scared to 'do' relationships?"

"I hate it when you're right."

"Now, let's see, how should you tell her? We should make it a grand gesture, but we need to keep it between us." She opened the second bottle as she spoke. "Oh, I'm gonna have to be a third wheel for a really long time, but I guess I can deal with that." She kept drinking. "I am totally gonna officiate the wedding. Also, I think you need to do it soon, maybe when she comes to tell you you were right?"

"Emily, let's calm down for a minute."

"Can we watch Dance Moms?"

"No, I don't even know what that is, but it sounds awful."

"It's so good. The kids are so talented." She sighed, as if somehow proud of said kids. "Anyway, going back to your love life." She began once again and he simply tried to not scream.

A drunk Prentiss continued to increase the level of alcohol in her system while simultaneously rambling about the beautiful life they would have together. He hadn't said a word in what seemed to be an hour, but that didn't stop her, she kept speaking of possible destination weddings and how she needed to be the godparent of one of their kids, even if JJ and she had to share because she knew that JJ was Spencer's best friend before any of them had even joined. She also expressed that she had shipped the two of them, but decided against it once JJ had found Will and they had children.

"I told her I was definitely the best friend." She smiled, as the third bottle came empty. Her rambling had returned to Spencer's current crush. "And I am an amazing wing woman. I got Spencer Reid to accept his love."

"I did not say I was in love. I like her, but love is a strong word." He tried to take the bottle from her but she was fast, even under the influence. "You've been talking for almost an hour, and drinking that in record time. I'm a little concerned for you."

"I've just been trying to pass the time."

"Time for what?"

"For the show to begin." She wiggled her eyebrows, as she drank the last bit of wine left. "I'm gonna have to go get more."

"How about we talk about my feelings instead?" That was the last thing he wanted to do, granted it was also the thing she had been doing for the last hour, but if Emily got any more wasted, they were gonna have a problem tomorrow.

She smiled, but before she could try and convince him to propose, there was a knock at the door. "Right on time!" She whispered.

"What?"

"Just go open the door."

He walked towards the door and opened it slightly, only enough to make his figure known. He was so perplexed to see her standing on the other side that he forgot for a moment he was supposedly still upset with her. Though the fact that Prentiss had been right and she was at his door was making the air get caught in his lungs. Nonetheless, he maintained a neutral expression, waiting for her to speak.

"I came to tell you that you were right. He just wanted to get in pants." He stayed silent, simply observing her. She was upset, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the fact that he was right or because of something Tyler had said. "I actually thought he wanted to apologize, and I think part of me just wanted to believe that for the first time I was not being used, that people actually cared about what I felt."

"There are people that care about you, they are just not the wants you wanted to." He tried not to sound defensive but it seemed impossible. He cared about her, Emily cared about her, the whole team and her mom, even her cousin Nicole cared about her. He wanted her to see that, and maybe for it to be enough one day.

"No, they are! I thought I needed the people who wronged me to fix it, to show me that I was worth the trouble when in reality all I needed was for me to understand that I was. And I just needed a reminder that the people that care about me are the ones that should matter the most." A trace of a smile formed on his lips. He was included, at least he hoped he was, because what a wonderful life that would be. "I am so sorry about how I acted, and I am sorry I left you here waiting for me. Spencer Reid, you are my best friend and you come before any other jerk out there. I need you to know that this time in which I didn't have you with me was miserable. I missed you so much I spent the whole dinner with Tyler talking about you."

"You did?" He seemed genuinely surprised. Emily had predicted this too, and the meaning behind it. He wished he could control his emotions and not read too much into it, but the seed had been planted and now all he could think of is how to tell her he liked her. He was ready to say it, but thankfully he waited for her to finish.

"Yeah, I did. I missed you, and I hope we never fight again, I don't know what I would do without your friendship."

"I missed you too." She bit her lip, and he smiled, though he'd be lying if he said that her seeing him only as a friend was didn't hurt. Here he was, wishing to tell her that he wanted to be more than friends and she had inadvertently stopped him in his tracks. Instead of mopping and wishing to vanish, he decided that her friendship was better than anything else, and he couldn't lose that. He would get over here and she wouldn't even have to know about it. "Wanna come in and watch TV?" He asked, already taking his plan into action.

"I would love that." She smiled, Spencer was about to open the door and let her in when Emily spoke once more.

"That's good to hear, I am trying to get Spence here to watch Dance Moms with me but he refuses, maybe if there is two of us, he'll change his mind." She frowned, clearly confused by the presence of another voice, he opened the door to the view of a very drunk Emily in pajamas.  Her frown softened and she smiled again, seemingly relieved to see her. "May I say, you look hot. Blue suits you."

"So I've been told." She gave him a knowing look and he couldn't help the beat his heart skipped. This feeling was going to kill him one of these days.

"Are you sure you can handle being in that close all night though? Maybe Spencer can lend you one of his shirts." She said, winking at them. He tried not to look completely horrified by the implication that comment had due to the fact that the girl next to him had no idea it was there, but with Emily staring at him as she was, it had become a difficult task.

"Has she been drinking?"

"It's her third bottle of wine."

"We need to cut her off."

"Yeah, we do." He smiled at her, "She's right though, if you want to borrow something more comfortable let me know." The image of her in his shirt, and the idea that her smell might stay in it even after she was gone made him want to rush into his room and get it for her.

"Careful Spencer Reid, I might take you up on that." She joked, and he prayed to all the gods he knew about that she would.

"Awwww, YOU TWO ARE ADORABLE!" The woman screamed. "Just get married already!"

The pair laughed and made their way to the sofa, she closed the door behind her and sat down,  him very aware of their closeness. Emily grabbed the control and looked for the show, cheering like a little girl when she found it. Spencer felt her rest her head on his shoulder and his body immediately tensed up at the notion. He didn't really know for how long he had been feeling this way about her, but he wasn't sure he wanted to ever stop or fade away.

"Your birthday is coming up." She whispered.

"Yeah, I'm turning thirty, can you believe that?"

"You're old." He chuckled. "Do you know what you're gonna do?"

"Probably get a haircut."

"Besides that."

"I don't know. We might have a case."

"What do you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I need to get you something extra special for your birthday number thirty, so what do you want?"

"I don't need gits."

"You are no fun."

He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted, but he wasn't sure she was ready to hear it, or that he would ever get it. That was just life, and he had learned early on that he couldn't be greedy, he had a mom he loved, friends he could rely on, and that should be enough. Relationships were hard, feelings faded and he didn't want to be caught up in a situation where he would lose his favorite person in the world. So as he sat there, her head on his shoulders, a drunk Emily singing the themes song of the show they were watching while also giving the dancers advice, he decided that was the best he could hope for, reaffirming once again that his romantic feelings for the girl sitting next to him needed to disappear.

[kaldurcalm]

I've been meaning to do a black girls in webtoons reclist and I'm a little nervous about it because I'm white, but I haven't seen any comparable lists yet so. Here I go.

Note: this is based on the characters.

I haven't checked to see whether the authors are black or not because although that approach is well-meaning and has its own purpose (boosting black women who make comics), it can also lead to gatekeeping and invasive behavior on the part of fans.

The creators on the webtoons platform often use psuedonyms, so I usually don't go looking for more information than they provide.

My focus here is black girls and women who are treated well by the narrative, because I've seen from other posters that those are the kinds of stories that they would like to read.

With that in mind! I'm just going to go with the first one I see on my subscription list:

This is a superhero comic with a black female lead. She's the one who gets the gang together, and she comes from a society that has some interesting eyewear. (It's kind of a cultural thing.)

All of this is explained in the comic as a part of an ongoing plotline, and everyone's powers feel fresh and interesting.

Note: I do actually know that one of the creators is a black man! It's a team of people who seem pretty neat.

This one is probably suitable for most ages, but there's superhero violence and associated trauma sometimes. They get into social injustice as an ongoing theme for the entire comic, and the characters collectively decided to crash at the place of the richest guy on the team.

He is not thrilled about this.

I love this disaster trans girl.

Mal is a fan of a band called the Crawmamas, and her bff accidentally lands her a job as their social media manager. She is, unfortunately, head over heels for the dirty rat man guitarist.

This comic is going to have themes that are considered adult, like drinking and smoking and sexytimes.

Mal's mom doesn't approve of her wrist tattoo, but she's supportive of "her baby girl" and the other characters either don't know or are supportive (so far).

(I can't vouch for how the narrative will handle things in the future, but she's touring with a tits out type of rock band some of the crew members are gay. I'm not worried about the way the story will handle it.

Even if almost every single character is a disaster human. Help them.)

It's the story of Shahrazad! I read The Shadow Spinner when I was a kid, but not the original story, so I've never seen it like this before.

If you're not familiar: the main character is forcibly married to the rule of her kingdom.

Or, well, she volunteers for the forced marriage process so that she can get revenge on him for killing her best friend.

Along the way, she unveils a curse, and sets about trying to unravel it.

There's violence in this story, but I don't think it's super graphic. It's only a feel-good story if you're into clever, booksmart women who learn to fight injustice in their own ways.

(If you don't like the idea of her catching feelings for the caliph, this story might not be for you.)

If I were to narrow this list down to just soft love stories, this comic would be included. (Gonna be honest: I almost didn't read the whole thing because of the art style, but I'm so glad I did.)

Yani is a short, chubby black girl, and Cage is the tallest, biggest guy in highschool.

... unfortunately this means that she's scared of him at first.

The feeling isn't mutual at all: he saw on stage in a school play and immediately became 100% more interested in Shakespeare.

When their teacher sets him up to tutor her (it's not a romantic thing), he's stoked and she finds out that mostly? He's just shy.

This comic talks about sex in an informative way in the later chapters, and Yani's friends help her overcome a phobia that she's embarrassed to tell people about.

Overall, it's really sweet and wholesome. And it's pretty much completed, so no surprises here!

This is one of my favorite comics of all time, I think.

Ray is a college-age lady who's struggling to figure out her career path--as a seer in a world where you can bake magic into food.

She likes to go to her favorite bakery once a week to have a slice of romance. (Not sure if the romance is in the jam, the bread, or both, but it looks really pretty.)

She seems to have a crush on the lady who owns the bakery (who is also a black woman and happens to be a happily married lesbian), and she helps her love interest overcome his fear of (broomstick) flying (which is similar to driving in this universe-- you have to get a license.)

This one should be safe for all ages, I think! It's one of the softest, sweetest comics I've ever read.

So the actual main character in this comic is basically black gay batman in a purple devil suit, but I'm recommending it because it has two women of color as main characters in the first two seasons.

If you want a smooth recap of the entire thing, read the latest update. Here's the short version:

Honoria Crabb is a hard-nosed cop, until she sees that the entire city is corrupt and and the police force isn't what she'd hoped it would be. She's basically tying the story together right now--you might see what I mean if you click the last link.

Theresa Ferrier is a famous detective, the line of Sherlock Holmes. I say this not because of her personality, but because has a best-selling series about her adventures and has a comparable reputation in this universe.

She's also bald, uses a cane, and is married to the love of her life--Margeurite, a famous painter with a rare brain disease. (Margeurite can't see very well, uses a wheelchair, and is usually carrying her beloved bulldog. )

Theresa basically comes out of retirement to help fund her wife's treatment, and by the end of the second season she retreats so that she can devote herself to her care.

It doesn't even feel like the author is sidelining her or anything--she's influenced the other characters a great deal, and she just wants to care for her wife and be happy.

Overall, you'll like this comic if you like detective stories and masked vigilantes. There's violence and blood, and associated trauma.

I love this comic so much, and I'm a person who tries to stay away from zombies as much as possible.

...let me just show you the main cast:

Spoiler: there's healthy polyamory at the end.

...not with all of them. Two of them in this picture are involved, though, and one of them is black.

(The coach is also black. He gets bitten by the first zombie they see, so the girls have to take care of him. They do a decent job of it.)

I'm not sure how much more I can say without spoiling it because I get too excited. Ya got your jock black girl and your soft cute black girl on the same highschool basketball team, though, so that's why it made this list.

This comic is hilarious and it feels like a slice of life in spite of the fact that it's set during a zombie apocalypse. 10/10 would recommend.

(I also highly recommend the author's other work, which is more graphic and uses more colors in its palette, but that one centers a gay couple. There's some great black ladies in it but they're not the focal point, so I'm just going to mention it as an aside.

You can find it by clicking on the comic description and scrolling to the bottom.)

So the main character starts out a bike messenger. The best damn bike messenger in town.

This is how she becomes a bike messenger for the gods.

It's all very dramatic, and the new job comes with a teleporting magic vending machine for helpful bike parts that help her navigate the godly realm.

Her best friend is another black lady, who works with books and is a badass in her own right, and Dare herself is definitely not straight.

This comic is completed and everything ends well! Dare gets a satisfying love life with another woman and the world is no longer ending.

This comic is sweet, so I'm going to include it, but I don't think it's ever going to be finished.

Ola and her family are illegal immigrants. This comic is a slice of life about her trying to navigate highschool without exposing her family.

The overall tone is pretty light, but I'd you have any experience with that then if might make you nervous.

I don't want to pick favorites, but this one's my favorite.

In a world where you can modify your body the same way we can currently mod videogames, our main character notices another girl who takes the subway because she doesn't use any mods at all.

It's because she has a chronic illness, so she uses technology that others consider outdated (that seems futuristic to us) to help her navigate the world.

She's not in pain all the time, but she has to be careful. Certain types of technology in their world can affect her very badly, so she has to avoid them the same way you'd avoid allergens.

The main character changes her look frequently, but she's always shown as black and, towards the end of the comic, she shares a conversation she had with her mother as a child about the importance of her natural features.

This is an interracial relationship, and the love interest is a white hispanic. She has two dads, and the main character has a mom, a dad, and her mom and dad's partner.

...I'm not super clear on their relationship as it is in the comic but the creator confirmed that they're in a polycule.

This is the kind of comic that makes you feel like you light up inside as you read it. It should be safe for most ages, I think the most adult things in it are job opportunities and kissing. (I'm going off memory, here. I'm doin my best.)

The author also has another comic about a college age magic user who bulldozes her way into an apprenticeship because she's determined to not let her magical form of dyslexia get in the way of her life plans.

(She can't read the spell books at all, so makes herself seeing eye familiar out of what looks like a floppy stuffed animal and a ritual.

The ritual itself isn't clear yet.)

The main character isn't black herself, so I'm not including it as its own entry, but her mentor is black. She's a sweet lady with an adopted son, anxiety, and an understanding girlfriend.

This one doesn't have a final ending because the author came up against a pretty heavy duty mental block, but it did end on a series finale and although it's bittersweet, I think it's pretty good.