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spectres-fulcrum · 10 months

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Wilhelm and Shinobu Takatsuki as weird emotionally validating mirrors

Other than Prince Henry of Wales and Alex, FSOTUS from RWRB (Which is duh cause he's probably distant cousins with Henry cause European royalty is like that) the other rich guy teen queer I need Wilhelm to meet is Shinobu Takatsuki from Junjou Romantica(Which is a problematic af series do not read it but despite everything the Terrorist pairing salvages the best love story because they communicate their fears and their love but when it's 2015 and you google gay animes that was the highest recced and not warned about and I feel like I just aged myself). Their stories are wildly differently but I feel like they'd validate each other's terrible and anxious teenage years and emotions and also... Living a mindless life and being expected to continue that but finding the one person that brings you to life and although you shouldn't, you need it.

And they both know what it's like to find it, and to have the cruelest twist of fate turn it into an anxious thing. But to fight for it.

I feel like Wilhelm would hear about Shinobu's quote that is summed up to 'I'm super smart and sporty without effort, from a rich family, have no ambition, I figured I could attend uni, get a job, and get married and live a mindless life but I found the one thing that brings me joy and that's you! Is that so bad!' And be like I'm in this picture and I don't like it. He REALLY doesn't like it.

(Also Shinobu bby, yes, it's "so bad" because A. You are 17 talking to your sister's 35yo EX husband he cannot give into you and B. You were 13/14 when you met him. 14. And you had accepted you would never truly feel anything in life and that is HEARTBREAKING. Like it's Japan so of course it never flagged anything but that quote always tugs on my heartstrings so badly. Because he had written off the idea of love. And once he fell he would cross any line for it. And he tried to shut. It. Off. )

And that's Wilhelm. A prince. Good universities. An acceptable dating pool of ladies. Nothing that made him feel anything. And then Simon. And he even says it. He almost wishes he never felt those emotions cause once he had it he couldn't live without them. And he's willing to consider throwing it all away to keep Simon.

And they both TRIED. Wilhelm tried to let Simon move on-he did. He kissed Felice hoping to feel anything. Shinobu transferred to a school in Australia. Isolating himself from his family, his friends, his language, his culture. We don't know much about those years but I imagine he ran but anxiety and depression followed(You will pry the headcanon of Shinobu's rich brat persona hiding his depression and manifesting as a desprete attempt to get the only thing he truly wants: The only person he will ever love out of my cold dead hands)

I imagine he was very alone. Because he remembered the guy he stole glances at in the library, the guy, out of the millions of people, saved him from being mugged. The guy, who, ended up being his sister's husband to be in a marriage of conveiance. And that was their first official meeting.

So anyone would tell him, he's Risako's husband. How could he be crushing on Risako's husband. But he was the nameless man in the library first. He was Shinobu's before he was Risako's. So he never tells anyone, he just runs.

And anytime Wilhelm cries out, he gets shut down, because he has responsibilies and has to mature and live up to Erik's impossibly high shadow and this isn't a punishment but he never asked for it. He never asked for any of it. He just wants to be a boy who loves a boy. Just like Shinobu wanted that nameless library man.

And they both go crazy in love. Wilhelm announced to the world that that was him in the video without any warning the palace. Shinobu, upon his sister's divorce, suddenly transferred home to pursue her now ex husband. Wilhelm can still step down.

I can see them laughing and looking back at being teenagers in love with that recklessness of being 16 and 17, going "Did we actually do that? And that actually worked?" And it did. (I mean-we don't know about Wilmon but we know Wilmon will end up together). But also talking about anxiety and trying to move on and failing and breaking down in bedrooms that weren't home but was more of a home that their parent's home.

I can't wait to see Wilhelm and Simon as happy as Shinobu and Miyagi are in current manga.

I just need Shinobu and Wilhelm to be weird mirrors but validating mirrors in isolating times. Idk if I can get timelines to work or reasons why a Swedish prince would meet the son of a Japanese professor(although I always liked the idea that Shinobu's maternal grandmother was European, thus the blonde hair. I always went French but could go old money Swedish...?)

#prince wilhelm #shinobu takatsuki #Junjou terrorist #junjou romantica #young royals #I feel so strongly about shinobu #ESPECIALLY his australia years #imo his host family convinced his father to let them take him to a therapist and it did him so much good #And his anxiety vs his spoiled brat exterior #Like he begged miyagi for love but didn't even hint about his birthday cause he doesn't talk about himself #They both needed henry and alex #thank god shinobu and miyagi hopefully get to come out on their own terms #they're discussing it in the manga #so even if they're outed they're already discussing it #And it won't be go the world #Someone talk to me about shinobu takatsuki please #Cause 8 years later he's still my baby #Who will be an amazing bilingual lawyer #Just like Alex #He's just not a headstrong teen #he's a young man with a boyfriend who wears a promise ring and they share an apartment and a life and they talk about shit and it's great #He's amazing #They somehow turned into goals

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oswinpond · 4 years

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Even after the new film, which certainly popularized Amy/Laurie in a way I’ve never seen before, I keep hearing a lot of the same old arguments: “Laurie never stopped loving Jo”, “Laurie didn’t really love Amy”, “Amy was a second choice/consolation prize”, “Jo should’ve been with Laurie” etc. And a lot of these people claim this is book canon. As I’ve just reread the book, I’ve got a lot of thoughts on all of this...

(Note: This is all purely based on book canon.)

In the book, after Amy harshly scolds Laurie, he decides to go back to London and work for his grandfather to better himself. At first, he thinks he’s doing it for two reasons: Amy despises him and that hurts him, but also the idea that if he does something “splendid” Jo may love him (or at least respect him, as Amy put it).

So Laurie decides to write a requiem for Jo “which should harrow up Jo’s soul and melt the heart of every hearer”. But he can’t come up with anything because he keeps humming the dance music reminiscent of the Christmas ball in Nice which he spent devoting himself to Amy all evening. So then he tries to compose an opera with Jo as his heroine, but it doesn’t work. “He wanted Jo for his heroine, and called upon his memory to supply him with tender recollections and romantic visions of his love. But memory turned traitor; and, as if possessed by the perverse spirit of the girl, would only recall Jo’s oddities, faults, and freaks, would only show her in the most unsentimental aspects.”

Jo no longer fits as his heroine, no matter how hard he tries. So he gives up on that, and his imagination promptly comes up with another heroine for him without even trying:

“This phantom wore many faces, but it always had golden hair, was enveloped in a diaphanous cloud, and floated airily before his mind’s eye in a pleasing chaos of roses, peacocks, white ponies, and blue ribbons. He did not give the complacent wraith any name, but he took her for his heroine and grew quite fond of her, as well he might, for he gifted her with every gift and grace under the sun, and escorted her, unscathed, through trials which would have annihilated any mortal woman.”

While Laurie doesn’t realize it, the woman he’s imagining is Amy. Amy with the blue ribbons in her golden hair, who put roses in his buttonhole, who he watched feed the peacocks in Paris, and who he first saw again in a carriage drawn by ponies. It’s also a little prophetic, as he does escort the real Amy through future trials. (Bonus: at the same time, Amy spends her time sketching some faceless man who clearly resembles Laurie, but she doesn’t realize it either.)

Contrary to what some in the fandom would claim, Laurie isn’t at all forcing himself to love Amy just so that he can be part of the March family. He doesn’t even realize that she’s become the “heroine” in his story, that she’s the woman he’s fantasizing about. He thinks he’s doing this to improve himself for Jo, but it’s Amy that’s inspiring him.

And then Laurie realizes that his feelings for Jo are disappearing:

“Laurie thought that the task of forgetting his love for Jo would absorb all his powers for years, but to his great surprise he discovered it grew easier every day. He refused to believe it at first, got angry with himself, and couldn’t understand it [...] Laurie’s heart wouldn’t ache; the wound persisted in healing with a rapidity that astonished him, and instead of trying to forget, he found himself trying to remember. He had not foreseen this turn of affairs, and was not prepared for it. He was disgusted with himself, surprised at his own fickleness, and full of a queer mixture of disappointment and relief that he could recover from such a tremendous blow so soon. He carefully stirred up the embers of his lost love, but they refused to burn into a blaze: there was only a comfortable glow that warmed and did him good without putting him into a fever, and he was reluctantly obliged to confess that the boyish passion was slowly subsiding into a more tranquil sentiment, very tender, a little sad and resentful still, but that was sure to pass away in time, leaving a brotherly affection which would last unbroken to the end.”

This passage alone pretty much puts to rest the idea that Laurie never got over Jo. He actually got over her so easily and quickly that he felt disgusted with himself, thinking this made him fickle. His romantic feelings are gone, and soon will leave only a “brotherly affection” when the last of the hurt is gone as well. Maybe he got over her so easily because he simply mistook his strong bond with her for romance, or maybe it was just a rash and immature first love that was never going to last long anyways, or whatever else... point being, he got over her.

And Laurie was actually trying, and failing, to rekindle any love for Jo (unlike his unconscious growing feelings for Amy, which he wasn’t pushing for at all). As a last ditch attempt to revive that love, he writes to Jo asking if she was sure about her refusal, and when she responds that she absolutely could never love him that way, he accepts it without sadness or complaint this time. He’s already over her, so there’s nothing to be heartbroken over. That was his closure. He takes off the ring she gave him and locks it away with her letters, and that’s that.

And that’s when he’s ready to open his heart to Amy. He starts corresponding with her so often their letters are flying back and forth constantly. He wants to go back to her, but he doesn’t want to until she asks; she finally does after she hears about Beth’s passing, and Laurie immediately drops everything to go to her “with a heart full of joy and sorrow, hope and suspense” (and this is after he knows she’s turned down Fred, so we know what he’s hoping for now). Amy is his first priority after Beth dies, even though Beth was dearest to Jo. Laurie meets Amy in Switzerland and, without saying anything, they both know their relationship has changed.

They spend weeks doing everything together and spend all their time out at the lake. Despite the sad tidings, they wind up being their happiest together in Vevey. They both know that they’re in love with each other without even having to say it (they really seem to develop an unspoken communication at this point). And while Laurie knows that she’ll say “yes” to his proposal, he’s still nervous so he puts it off to enjoy his time with Amy in Switzerland. He imagines proposing to her in the chateau garden at moonlight, but instead blurts it out while they’re on a lake in the middle of the day:

Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed as well as she did many other things; and, though she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly through the water. “How well we pull together, don’t we?” said Amy, who objected to silence just then. “So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” very tenderly. “Yes, Laurie,” very low. Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little tableau of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected in the lake.

And there’s so much to say about this little scene. While he had to beg and argue with Jo just to finally accept her firm “no”, he just has to ask a simple question with Amy and he gets his simple answer because they’re on the same page. The rather blunt metaphor of rowing well together, even when he uses one hand and she uses two, is all about how despite their differences they work. They keep time. And it calls back to Jo’s talk with Marmee where they both agree that Jo and Laurie never would’ve worked, in part because their similarities would clash horribly in a romantic relationship (but mainly because , y’know, Jo never once felt a single shred of romantic love for Laurie).

Now, I can understand where people come from thinking Laurie was “replacing” Jo with Amy with lines like "Laurie decided that Amy was the only woman in the world who could fill Jo’s place and make him happy”. I get how this can be interpreted as Amy filling in for what was meant to be Jo’s place in his heart. But it makes a lot more sense in the context of Laurie’s speech to Jo towards the end when he explains his feelings:

“I never shall stop loving you; but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you changed places in my heart, that’s all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me; but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent; and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of myself. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that I didn’t know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love you both alike; but I couldn’t. And when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places.”

Laurie didn’t settle for Amy. Amy took Jo’s place in the sense that they swapped places in how he saw them, from romantic to platonic for Jo and vice versa for Amy. And those wound up being their “right” places. He believes he was always meant to fall in love with Amy and see Jo as his sister, and that he would’ve gotten to this point naturally even if things had played out differently.

I’ll admit I wasn’t a fan of how the 2019 film portrayed Jo in this situation, because in the book she was absolutely thrilled for Laurie and Amy, and is happily surprised when Marmee tells her she’d been hoping for them to fall in love. But in the film, they take her sadness over her loneliness too far IMO, and make it seem like she was actually bitter over Amy and Laurie being together, which unfortunately fuelled the “Amy stole Laurie from Jo” crowd a bit. And after her conversation with Marmee where she admits that she only wants Laurie because she longs to be loved, and Marmee points that “that isn’t the same as loving”, this makes movie!Jo seem “silly and selfish” as book!Jo puts it (because in the book, that was only a “what if” she entertained and never wrote any letter).

Anyways, to conclude on all of this, when Amy and Laurie are married at and home, we get the thoughts of other characters on their relationship, and the unanimous opinion is that they’re completely in love and happy with each other. Jo herself insists that their happiness will for sure last, and notes how proud Laurie seems to be to call Amy his wife. Laurie, meanwhile, can’t stop talking about Amy through to the end (and Amy is clearly just as smitten). I dare you to read the last half of Part 2 and not find Amy and Laurie adorable together.

And to hammer that last nail in the coffin on Jo/Laurie as a romance, we get Laurie meeting Professor Bhaer. It’s specifically noted that while Laurie is suspicious of Bhaer and notices his interest in Jo, it was “not of jealousy” but a “brotherly circumspection”. Amy even asks him if he’s at all jealous and Laurie tells her “I assure you I can dance at Jo’s wedding with a heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling?” and it says that Amy’s “last little jealous fear vanished forever”. Laurie actually winds up happily supporting Bhaer once he sees he’s a great guy for his sister Jo, and suggests to Amy that they should try to help them out as a couple.

So no, Jo never loved Laurie romantically, Laurie absolutely did get over Jo, Laurie and Amy are so happy together it’s almost obnoxious, Jo is pro-Amy/Laurie and Laurie is pro-Jo/Bhaer, and Amy wasn’t a second choice, she was Laurie’s “meant to be” by his own words.

#amy x laurie #laurie x amy #amy march #laurie laurence #little women #this wound up way longer than i intended #oops #so i added a read more #anyways all this to say that laurie and amy are OTP and laurie and jo are brotp #and jo and amy are my favourite sisters and their relationship is amazing

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wangxiandecoded · 4 years

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Episode 7 (& Wangxian Meta)

Previous Episode | Next Episode

(Spoilers for the whole show ahead!)

The Chosen Ones

Lan Zhan, if this scene foreshadows anything, it’s that he’s certainly going to become a part of your domestic affair.

There is something powerful about the first and only female Lan clan leader giving them her blessing and saying it was destiny that they found their way to her just as she’s about to fade into oblivion. Wangxian are the archetypal Chosen Ones who have been entrusted with keeping the Yin Iron safe. And if this was yet another straight adventure story that delivers poetic justice, we would expect it to conclude with these two people ending up together - and that’s what The Untamed does in a roundabout way with our heroes.

Nothing to see here. Just two guys tripping over each other because the sacred string of fate pulled them towards each other.

Lan Zhan, I’ll Be Your Secret Keeper!

This episode is full of instances where Wei Ying refuses to tell other characters what really happened in the cave, then turns around to look at Lan Zhan with a proud look that screams, “I’m so good at keeping secrets, aren’t I? We are soulmates! Come on, validate me, Lan Zhan!”

The expression on Lan Qiren’s face when Wei Ying calls Lan Zhan his confidant/soulmate. No words are needed.

The Yin Iron Secret™ is obviously bringing them closer and they begin to share loaded glances that convey everything they wish to say without actually having to. Thus begins the process of everyone third wheeling Wangxian.

Jiang Cheng thinks Wei Ying should move into the Cloud Recesses since he’s hanging out with Lan Zhan all the time. Lan Zhan hears that and appears to be a tad bit disappointed Wei Ying might never actually do that since their lifestyles are leagues apart. It’s tough being Wei Wuxian sometimes.

The Lantern That Started Everything

We are here, folks! The moment that started it all, the scene that defined Wangxian’s story. Once again, Wangxian are framed in contrast with the two straight couples.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are standing together and look at each other while making their wish, just like Yanli x Jin Zixuan, and Jiang Cheng x Wen Qing.

Lan Zhan says he is used to doing it alone and Wei Ying comments old habits can be changed, which just points to the latter’s impact on the former’s life.

Wei Ying has another accomplishment to cross off his list : Finally made Lan Zhan smile today!

Mian Mian asks Yanli why she didn’t make the lantern together with Jin Zixuan, as praying together is a custom followed by couples that are to be married. And that tells you everything you need to know about Lan Zhan and Wei Ying’s relationship.

The first of many times that Lan Zhan rushes in to hold Wei Ying back.

Lan Zhan for a second believed Wei Ying finally learnt his lessons and crossed over to the lawful good side.. but come on, you love him precisely because he would never do that. And those ants are cute.

Jiang Fengmian proposes to cancel the troth between the clans to marry Yanli and Jin Zixuan. It is worth mentioning that Jiang clan’s approach to marriage is to never force their kids into a lifelong relationship they are not sure they want as they believe in “following one’s nature”. When even straight relationships are progressive and value happiness above all else, what is to stop the show from selling us a central gay romance that ends happily? Absolutely nothing.

We’ve now seen both the protagonists reject the romantic idea of spending their life with a woman.

Missing Lan Zhan Hours Now Open

Wei Ying pouting like.. What do you mean we have to leave already? Lan Zhan literally just started acknowledging me as his soulmate.

Oh no, Lan Zhan.. Why aren’t you including your soulmate on the super secret plan™?!

Wei Ying’s reason for wanting to say goodbye to only Lan Zhan out of all the disciples is, “Why can’t I admire his talents? You’re all losers who can’t fight me and he is my Match (Made In Heaven), I desire for an equivalence (and a meaningful union between souls.)”

The camera moves from the Yunmeng siblings squabbling to Lan Zhan observing them from a distance. Zewu Jun joins him and comments that after Wei Ying’s departure, Yun Shen will be silent once more. Lan Zhan’s face falls a little, understandably because he was getting more than used to Wei Ying’s chaotic presence in his life.

Zewu Jun is worried if Lan Zhan will be alright on his journey alone and raises the idea if he should tell Wei Ying about his quest. But Lan Zhan, our beloved idiot, still needs that extra push to come to terms with his feelings and realize Wei Ying will instantly drop everything for a lifetime by his side if he were to only say the word.

Rabbits Symbolise The Chinese Gay God

Even before the fandom taught me that the Chinese god of homosexuality is literally The Rabbit God, so the inclusion of rabbits is gloriously queer subtext, I could gather that they symbolised Wangxian’s feelings for each other. They both talk to the rabbits when the other is not there, Wei Ying paints a rabbit lantern for them to wish together, Lan Zhan raised Ah Yuan among these rabbits because they reminded him of Wei Ying and after 16 years, Lan Zhan drunkenly admits he likes rabbits (the equivalent of saying he’s always liked Wei Ying), they buy the rabbit lantern together and finally come back to find these rabbits in Cloud Recesses. The rabbits are a part of the Wangxian family.

The reappearance of the rabbits when Lan Zhan and Wei Ying’s dynamics have changed 16 years later is very telling. Their relationship by then has survived death and the miraculous return from death; it’s gone through the whole cycle of the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption. The rabbits bring their life full circle to denote the certainty and comfort in the fact that they have each other after the trials and tribulations their romance has withstood. Wei Ying even says he isn’t scared of what happens anymore in that scene. There is nothing that can separate our heroes after this, they just have to brave whatever comes together.

And then there’s this promo picture and scene from a later episode where two rabbits are kissing.

This is how The Untamed screamed gay rights : “We’re not saying the heroes are gay, but the Yunshen rabbits are definitely gay and no one can do anything about it!” Only, the rabbits are such a huge part of this love story.

Wangxian’s Promise of Love and Honor

When they make the wish together, Lan Zhan looks at Wei Ying with a kind of awe and reverence like, how did I not recognize him from the moment we met? He eyes the pouch containing the Yin metal and realizes they are both more alike than he thought, that this guy is possibly and most definitely his soulmate. This is an important stage in their relationship.

When he hears Wei Ying wish that he wants to eliminate evil and protect the weak in exchange for a life without anything weighing down their hearts - I think it is at this point he begins to see him as more of a life partner with whom he can share everything, than just a friend. Because Wei Ying’s impact on Lan Zhan’s life is so profound it alters his being, tilts his axis and expands his perspective. Wei Ying brought with him a free-spirited, flexible measurement of morality and an ardent quest for truth that no 3000 rules of the Lan clan had ever laid down. He realizes the rules he grew up on are right but Wei Ying, with all his moral complexity, can also be right. Wei Ying’s companionship introduced Lan Zhan to a fluid perception of right and wrong that he found perfectly acceptable. This shows Lan Zhan and Wei Ying belong to the new generation that is here to reform the broken system built by their ancestors. In this moment, by choosing to view him as his unequivocal soulmate, by acknowledging their paths are to be forever intertwined, Lan Zhan liberates his mind from the monochromatic perception of life he was brought up on. By making this wish together, Lan Zhan trusts Wei Ying to always do the right thing from now on and trusts the both of them to lead a life that they are proud of.

He doesn’t know right now that staying committed to this wish is going to demand everything from them in the future, but he does know that Wei Ying is the greatest person he has ever met and the first one who is so compatible with him. And that is a revelation to Lan Zhan because there are easily a million things that set them apart. All the same, he sees his own core values reflected in his soulmate. He decides it couldn’t be the worst thing in this world to stand by Wei Ying’s side especially when he’s doing the most honorable thing they both know to be true. This common ground means something to Lan Zhan, even if we don’t hear him admit that. Because here is Wei Ying telling him he doesn’t need to be alone anymore even though he’s used to it. That he doesn’t have to go through any of it alone as long as he is there: fight for justice, vanquish evil, or even simply go through everyday life. Lan Zhan’s face in this scene is understandably the face of a man who is falling in love.

The promise they make to each other on this cliff was in a way, a promise to follow their own path that ended up operating above the constraints of and reinvented the cultivation world’s jurisdiction. There are going to be many forces trying to convince them it's not the right way, but the path they share, which is both the literal path of justice and their love for each other (they are synonymous, after all) is the one they courageously forge and painfully commit to when their world is unable to go on existing with the faulty principles it was founded on. That is why their romance survives every obstacle in the end. It is founded on a love that runs so deep it recognizes and respects the other in the many lifetimes spent serving their just cause. Their love, and the extents it goes to in order to thrive, is the answer to all the troubles that ail their world. And it all began with this lantern.

This is why The Untamed is the gay drama and Wangxian are the gay warriors the universe has been waiting for. It staged gay romance in a realm ruled by gentry and the supernatural, giving us equal parts of gore as there is swashbuckling, gut-wrenching drama. Literally never been done before.

In conclusion, Episode 7 deepens the bond between our heroes and sets up the main struggle in their romance as we wait to see what will become of the wish they made together. But one thing is clear : They are bound together forever, not just by their love for each other but also by their common cause. That is why the road they walk on can never be different. It will forever be the single plank road they will always find their way back to.

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 3 years

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Okay, I finished the book. The one thing that stuck out was that this is not Tom's story. He is a passive character. I think I like it that way.

Marion was a flawed woman for whom I feel sympathy for. She is very obviously queer to me. I understand her struggle, the need of compulsory heterosexuality pushed on to us so much that we cannot imagine there being anything beyond it. I loved her with julia. I wish they meet again. The fact that she's thinking about moving to Norwood where julia is feels very intentional. Her way of looking at women through the whole book is consistent and very familiar. So is her need to feel loved by a man.

I think I already sent you my thoughts on patrick but I'd just say that I related more to patrick than to Merion. I have always felt that queer pain is different for different people and yet very similar. And I felt both his pain and joy.

Tom....well, I don't know what I feel about Tom. That's probably because we don't really get to know his thoughts. We look at him through either Marion's view or Patrick's. I think there's more to him than that.

Also nowhere in the book police force is portrayed in a positive light. Which is something I've seen people wonder about and state as a reason to say that this story shouldn't be told.

Anyway, what are your thoughts on individual characters. And what scenes do you want see in the film the most ?

I’ve so loved reading your thoughts anon thanks so much for sharing them.

I totally agree about there being a lot of space around Tom - I really wonder what it’ll mean for Harry to make all these choices as an actor that remove ambiguity.

I also loved that the book ended with Marion heading to find Julia. When you asked about Marion’s queerness after just starting reading - I was thinking about it ending with her leaving to go to the only queer woman she knows. To me that suggested that the subtext of queerness for that character was intentional.

I loved seeing the world from Patrick’s eyes, and everything that told you about how he had to navigate the world. I do think it’s a shame that there’s this big hole in the book, we don’t get his voice after his diary ends. I don’t mind that we don’t know how he navigated the next fifty years as a queer man in Britain, but I wish the narrative didn’t minimise the possibility that he’d lived several lives in that time.

I also agree with you about the police. I’ve found the police discourse around this movie straight up bizzarre. I’ve got nothing against stories depicting the police force, my objection is to stories that lie about the police.

I think My Policeman depicts Brighton police pretty accurately. They’re shown to be violent, homophobic, widely disliked in the communities the characters come from (middle-class gay men, and working-class families), institutionally corrupt, and against art and culture and the things the characters value. In addition, Tom doesn’t do anything particularly socially useful, let alone heroic in the course of the book.

Narrators occasionally think positive things about Tom, but that’s hardly surprising, given the plot. When Patrick thinks about corruption in the force hurting the ordinary police officer, I think that shows you how far gone he is for Tom, given everything else we’ve heard about his attitude towards police.

I’m genuinely surprised that anyone would take My Policeman as a positive portrayal of the police. And it does make me wonder what they value.

In terms of what I’m most looking forward to - the latest set pics have really upped my excitement about everything. As I’ve said before I really want to see Harry say ‘I meet people, sometimes I have sex with them, don’t ask me again.’

I’m really looking forward to every scene between Patrick and Tom. I really hope they keep in the scene between Marion and Sylvie with the nail polish. And then the scenes between Marion and Julia. I was about to say that I was also looking forward to the scenes where Patrick enters gay worlds, but I realised at this stage my answer to the question about which scenes I’m most excited by is just ‘the gayest’.

#Welcome other people's My Policeman thoughts #particularly on the police question #I'm genuinely unsure what peoplea re objecting to

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nerdygaymormon · 4 years

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Sometimes I really hate being Bi. I know know the Church is true and I'll never leave it, but man is it a struggle. I started to think I was Bi on my Mission, and wow, that was scary. Ever since I got home, little over a year ago, I feel like I'm attracted to women more and more and I hate it. (I know I'm Bi and not Lesbian.) I see a cute gal, and I want cuddles and dates, and so many other things, but I can't act on it. (Especially since I'm at BYUI.) Do you have any tips on not hating yourself

Everyone has some things about themselves they don’t like or about which they’re hyper-critical. Often these are about not living up to our ideals, actions we wish we had or hadn’t done, not living up to some societal ideal, about a failure in our life. This is normal and part of being human.

Queer people in particular must deal with self-hatred that goes beyond just a normal part of being human. We grow up hearing negative messages about people like us and we internalize those messages. And often we have an inner voice that is authoritative and may sound like our parents or religious leaders and thus when it speaks to us, that voice gives those messages extra heft. These things cause us to see ourselves as lesser and to feel shame over our feelings and how we experience life.

An important part of unraveling this self-loathing is to recognize the negative messages, refute them, and replace them.

For example, your world won’t end just because you’re bi. Some people may view you differently if they find out, but a lot of people will continue to respect and love you. Perhaps you’ll lose some people, but you will not lose everything and everybody you care about.

That’s recognizing and refuting the negative messages, now let’s replace them. Being bi is a wonderful part of what makes me the person I am and I’m lucky because it brings many important gifts into my life. I can find beauty and love that others miss.

When you’re at church or school and hear a negative message about queer people, push back against it. You can raise your hand and speak up. If you’re not feeling brave in that moment, it’s okay, and explain to yourself why that comment was wrong and replace it with a positive comment.

Another thing you may have heard is that being gay or bi is a choice or the result of a lack of faith or some other reason. Fact is that it’s biological and a natural part of this world. This is literally how we’re made.

Associate with other LGBTQIA people.

I always feel so much better after I’ve been with other queer people. Being with them helps fight the things I was taught about the queer community, I can see & experience that they are normal people. They are fun, loving, caring, and supportive, exactly the opposite of what I’d been told. You can attend USGA-Rexburg and there’s a new resource center going up in town.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints spends quite a bit of time teaching and celebrating early pioneers. It’s quite a legacy and something to be proud of. The same is true of the queer community, we have amazing pioneers. We are a brave people. You have claim to two incredible legacies. Read about some of our queer Mormon heroes of the last decade.

Shame withers in sunshine

If you’re not yet out to friends and family, that’s okay, you have a blog and can write about your experiences and thoughts online. You can also find & connect with other queer Mormons.

One thing I’ve experienced, which has surprised me is that as I write and post about things of which I was embarrassed, the shame associated with them goes away. By sharing with others, it is no longer a secret that needs to be hidden, but something I’m taking ownership of.

If you’re awesome on paper, then you’re awesome in person

I used to know that I could write things on paper about myself that would sound great, but I didn’t have positive feelings about them. That person on the paper looked good, but somehow I didn’t have those same feelings about myself. I was the first person in my family to get a college degree, I now have an MBA, I served a mission, I am the favorite uncle in my family, I play the piano, I am kind and trusted and so on.

Learn to draw boundaries

Often when we don’t feel great about ourselves, we make up for that by seeking the approval of others, more so than is usual or healthy. We end up agreeing to do things we may not want to do just so that we seem agreeable and worthy of their approval, even from people we don’t care about that much. There is power in being able to say “no.” Schedule time to get your school work done, to participate in activities you enjoy, in having time for friends, for contributing to the community. You can agree to spend time helping others with things they want, but protect your boundaries and don’t overstretch yourself.

Boundaries also are important when it comes to people and messages you associate with. Try to find allies and queer people that you can associate with. Even if you’re not “out,” you can present yourself as an ally and be with people who express positivity about queerness.

You don’t have to accept everything you hear at church, what church leaders have said, or even all the “doctrine.” Church leaders have been tragically wrong in the past, they are not perfect conveyers of the love of our Heavenly Parents. You don’t have to believe the terrible things taught about LGBTQ people. I know this is easier said than done. It helps if you’ve experienced God’s love for you, or if you’ve thought about how illogical it would be for loving Heavenly Parents to send queer children to earth with no way for them to express who they are or to have happiness. We are supposed to experience joy in this life.

Take care of your health

When I met with a psychologist because I was suicidal and also wanted help with my internalized homophobia and low-self esteem, the first things we discussed were if I was getting enough sleep, was I eating a healthy diet, was I getting exercise. Our physical well-being contributes to our mental well-being. Sometimes a good cry is what I need to express the feelings I’m having, followed by a nap, then I feel much better.

Allow for growth and forgiveness

We all learn and change and grow. As others grow in understanding and do better, allow them the grace of forgiveness by recognizing things said by their past selves were said in ignorance and recognize the growth they’ve undergone. This also applies to you and your past self.

A common exercise that helps is to think of what you would say to someone else in a similar position. So often we speak of love and acceptance and not being hard on themselves, and it’s pretty great advice which we could apply to ourselves. Another exercise is to have a picture of our younger self, or even of just some young person around ages 5~12, and know that they are going to grow up queer, what advice would you give them? You deserve the same compassion, kindness and love that you show to others.

Growth and change also happens to our faith. Here’s a post where I shared about faith transitions and I found it very helpful in understanding how I experience my faith is different from my family, it’s because we’re in different stages.

Take pride in trying, not in failure or success

Coming out is freaking hard and takes a lot of courage. Like a lot of things in life, many people attempt to do this and then fail, they back down, the moment feels wrong, they get panicked, or whatever reason. Failure isn’t the worst thing, not trying is. And the more we try, the more successes we’ll eventually have. And once you have some wins under your belt, it gets easier to do those things that were once hard.

When being bi brings happiness, it’s easier to love this about yourself

For so many people, being queer is only associated with negative things in their life, but when you can start associating it with positive things it becomes easier to accept and love this part of yourself. When you have queer friends, when you have experienced the excitement of a crush on a boy and on a girl, when you go on dates, or someone sends a message that your posts about your feelings really helped them, those positive experiences will be associated with being bi.

Add voices and writings that affirm you and your experiences

So often scriptures are used as a weapon against queer people. A lot of people think they know what the Bible says about queer people based on a few verses pulled out of context, but they’ve not put in any real study to the original language, situation or what those verses read like when put back in context. Nor are they aware that there’s also positive scriptures about queer people. I put together a collection of things I learned that I hope will help others.

This year I’ve really been enjoying the Beyond the Block podcast, which has a Black man and a gay man discuss each week’s Come, Follow Me lesson. I also have liked the Faithful Feminists podcast. Both of those podcast highlight principles and concepts from the scriptures which are important for marginalized people.

Find blogs, podcasts, books, videos, lectures, classes, twitter accounts and whatever else that helps affirm you and helps you understand yourself.

#queerstake

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birdy-lady · 5 years

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There's nowhere to hide in a town the size of Schitt's Creek. In the Canadian sitcom of the same name, the rural community turns its spotlight on the Rose family, who relocate to the town after losing their extravagant fortune thanks to a fraudulent business manager. The Roses — Moira (Catherine O'Hara), Johnny (Eugene Levy), and their adult children, David (Dan Levy) and Alexis (Annie Murphy) — are a damaged brood, and not just because they've been forced to uproot their lives and start over in a small town they once bought as a joke. After a lifetime spent using wealth as a substitute for intimacy, they're suddenly shoved together in adjoining rooms in a run-down motel, only to find the attention more comfortable than any of them would have expected. As Dan Levy, who co-created the show with his father, Eugene, explained it, Schitt's Creek is about "people who didn't know what love was slowly learning season after season what it means to love each other."

It isn't just incidental, then, that David, a pansexual character played and created by an out gay man, isn't met with any homophobia in the town of Schitt's Creek. In a community where the nearest "high-end boutique" is a shop one town over called the Blouse Barn, David is only remarkable for his sharp fashion sense, which makes him a beacon to locals — like the schlubby mayor, Roland Schitt (Chris Elliott), and his wife, Jocelyn (Jennifer Robertson) — who look to him for advice. The show acknowledges, sometimes, that homophobia is still a threat, and that it can be especially dangerous to exist out in the open in rural towns like this one; in the second episode, when motel receptionist Stevie (Emily Hampshire) invites David to a tailgate, he protests, "I'm not really in the mood to be a victim of a hate crime tonight." Schitt's Creek doesn't pretend there's no risk to being vulnerable. It just defiantly chooses to reward that risk.

The core impulse of the series is to build a space for people to be open with one another. Late in Season 3 David meets his future business partner and eventual fiancé, Patrick (Noah Reid). Patrick, like the town, doesn't fit David's idea of what home will look like for him. "He's a business manager who wears straight-leg, mid-range denim," David summarizes. "He's not into me." But Patrick — again like the town — surprises him. There's no distinction on Schitt's Creek between romantic relationships and a broader sense of community: Both begin with unexpected acceptance.

In that sense, Schitt's Creek approaches vulnerability from a queer sensibility, even as it applies that sensibility to every character. Every emotion around acceptance is heightened because it's treated as less of a guarantee. After David kisses him for the first time, Patrick thanks him: "I've never done that before with a guy, and I was getting a little scared that I was gonna let you leave here without us having done that, so thank you for making that happen for us." There's an undercurrent of relief to their relationship, in a way that there generally doesn't need to be for straight couples. Both David and Patrick are on new ground — Patrick because he's never dated a man before, David because all of his previous relationships have been flings with people who were unkind — but their relationship isn't so much a giddy crush as it is a comfortable exhale.

A turning point in David and Patrick's romance comes when Patrick decides to hold an open mic night in their newly opened general store. David frets that it will be "scary [and] embarrassing" to be "sung at" in front of a crowd by the man he is dating, but Patrick — who is patient with David's foibles but knows when to push him — goes ahead with his plan. In one of the show's most intimate scenes, Patrick sings a stripped-down, "butter-voiced" cover of Tina Turner's "Simply the Best" as the camera gradually pulls focus away from the crowd. By the end, it's as if there's no one in the room but Patrick, David, and Moira, whose support for her son loads the romantic scene with David's long history of insecurities. As good as Patrick sounds, what really seems to stun David is how nice it is to be appreciated. The moment encapsulates the way Schitt's Creek pierces its characters' armor and lets them know that they are safe — that the mortifying ordeal of being seen can actually be sweet.

The importance of being seen is a recurring thread in David and Patrick's story. David, who carries the trauma of an emotionally unavailable family and a string of bad relationships, is hesitant to reveal too much of himself, preferring to present a curated image. Reassuring her skittish son, Moira tells him, "[Patrick] sees you. For all that you are." So when David needs to extend an olive branch to Patrick, the clearest way to tell his boyfriend how much he trusts him is to make a public spectacle of himself — to let himself be seen. He echoes Patrick's song back to him, performing a lip sync to "Simply the Best" in the middle of the store. "You know people can see you, right?" Patrick teases, winking at the fact that the audience is the point. This is a queer experience that Schitt's Creek makes universal: If you want to be loved, you cannot hide.

And yet even in a TV universe that insistently advocates for being seen, the show isn't cavalier about coming out. Schitt's Creek comes closest to dealing with homophobia directly when David invites Patrick's parents to town for a surprise party, not realizing that they don't yet know that his partnership with their son goes beyond business. Patrick expects David to be hurt that he's been keeping their relationship a secret, but David fully supports Patrick's right to tell his parents on his terms and regrets robbing his boyfriend of that choice. "I know my parents are good people," Patrick says. "I just can't shake this fear that there is a small chance that this could change everything. That they might see me differently, or treat me differently." Schitt's Creek understands that being seen doesn't always lead to being accepted. But Patrick's parents are fine with the fact that he's gay; they just wish he'd felt comfortable telling them sooner.

Dan Levy has referred to the decision not to give a voice to homophobia as "the only political stand [he's] taken as a showrunner." Speaking at a cast roundtable, Levy said, "We learn by what we watch. And even if you're presenting someone who puts out that energy, there is someone who will watch that and side with it." As long as homophobia persists, there will still be TV shows dismantling it, but too many shows don't know any other way to find drama in LGBTQ stories. In relegating bigotry to the shadows, Schitt's Creek leaves room to focus on the interior lives of all its characters, regardless of their sexuality, which does more to humanize those characters and make their experiences real. "If you take the hate out," Levy said, "if you take the rules that are dictating who you can love, how you can love them, what kind of people are good people, what kind of people are bad people, you're only left with joy, which can only have an enlightening effect on whoever's watching it."

Every obstacle to happiness is ultimately internal on Schitt's Creek, and every solution is found in trusting others. Alexis goes back to high school to finish her degree and worries the kids are passing notes about her; they are, but the notes are full of compliments. Stevie fears that she's watching the world pass her by from behind a desk, only to own the stage in a triumphant local production of Cabaret. And it's that production, not the movie Moira films as her comeback vehicle, that becomes Moira's passion project in the fifth season because she's already grown to care about the town more than she knows. The show doesn't just radiate joy in queer relationships; it graciously extends that energy to every character, presenting a world where everyone who takes a leap lands on their feet, often with a round of applause. Late in Season 5, Patrick proposes to David by looking back on a time when he wasn't sure if he'd ever have the courage to tell him how he felt. He gives him a set of four gold rings, exact replicas of David's own silver rings. Acceptance is like that on Schitt's Creek: being seen as you already are, but gold.

#schitt's creek #schitts creek #that last sentence #'Acceptance is like that on Schitt's Creek: being seen as you already are but gold.

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barisifictionarchive · 4 years

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Author: Juniperhoot

Preferred Name: Jenny

Have any events in your personal life ever influenced the things that you've written? Absolutely. STRAP IN.

Sometimes I rework something that happened to me, or to someone I know, and use it as a template for filling in personal details. See also: Carisi’s tale of molten aluminum burning holes in his ma’s kitchen flooring. That’s something that actually happened to me (well, it happened to my second husband, who got distracted while playing CounterStrike and let the pan boil dry). In one of my Stony stories, Steve tells Tony about a comforting gesture he learned from his mother - three squeezes of the hand, to silently say “I love you.” That’s something I learned from my Mema.

Beyond those bits of color, there are things that have made their way into my writing that come directly from my experiences. My interest in Sonny as a queer Catholic who once considered the religious life is something deeply personal to me, because that was my life, too. Even though I’m an atheist now, the church still holds some fascination for me, and I’m keenly interested in people who find a way to walk that line, and retain some belief while also retaining their autonomy and sense of self. The way I write Sonny is, in many ways, the way I think I would be, if I still believed. Okay, if I still believed AND were also a tall, noodly, bisexual man.

The way I write Rafael’s overthinking interior life is partly me, partly the things I’ve observed in people I’ve loved. The carefully chosen words, the moments of retreating from revealing too much of himself, the guardedness and tendency toward self-preservation that comes from growing up in an abusive home… all very relatable and possibly part of why I mostly write from his perspective, even though I generally consider myself more like Sonny. The shadows in Rafael’s heart are in my heart, too. My empathy is built on those shadows.

I wrote a Stony breakup fic years ago during a difficult time in my life. I’d reached a point where I had to remove some people from my life, because my priorities and theirs were so radically divergent. It felt like a big breakup. It reopened some feelings from my second divorce, and compounded what I was going through with another more recent breakup. Somehow, I used the pain and disillusionment of all that to write about two dudes in love, who found themselves in a crisis of trust and faith in one another. Of course, I also wrote them coming back together, and the work it takes to do that, because in my heart, I want to see good people work things out, if possible. And at least in my story, and in the way I view both of those characters, they ARE good people. In real life, some people really do need to be cut loose, when their values are wholly incompatible with your own. Some relationships can’t be mended. Some friendships turn out to be mostly one-sided. But hey, if they can be mined for material, they were worth it, right?

I’m in a less volatile emotional space these days, so my fics tend to reflect that. I’m the queen of domesticity and cute banter, and love that I’m getting to explore the quieter side of drama. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s worth saying again. It’s not all slamming doors and WE’RE THROUGH!, you know? There’s a marvelous sense of drama in the ways we try to negotiate cohabitation, or meeting the families of our romantic partners. There’s drama in supporting one another’s goals and ideals. At least, I think there is? And I hope my stories achieve that.

Do you have a favorite movie? I have a few, and they’re very different movies, because they reflect different aspects of my heart.

Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985) is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen, and it still makes me laugh, 35 years after its release. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen it. The stupid characters, the kitschy aesthetic, the score… it’s so very silly. I love it.

Singin’ in the Rain (1952) is, in my opinion, the most perfect Hollywood movie musical of all time. Everything about it works. The entire cast is outrageously talented, and attractive, and the songs are all memorable. The title song and dance routine never fails to elicit chills and a thrill of giddy joy in my heart. When Gene Kelly does that spin in the street, with the umbrella held out before him like a dance partner? Aaaaaiiiieeee. This is the movie that makes me wish I could dance.

A Room With A View (1985) is the sort of quiet, clever, understated romantic (in every sense of the word) movie I turn to again and again. It’s a gorgeous adaptation of a really smart, surprising book that left a mark on me when I first encountered it in high school. The score is lush and inviting, the cast is beautiful (and oh, those costumes!), the script is just fucking delicious, and of course, the scenery, from Florence to Kent, is exquisite. Plus, we get interplay between sincere humanism (the Emersons), religious belief (the Reverends Beebe and Eager), and the religious-by-default stances of so many of the other characters, whose participation in the religious life of the community seems to be more for societal expectations than anything else. It’s just beautiful, and one of the only movies I urge everyone to sit through to the very end, not because there’s a post-credits scene, but because the closing track that plays over the credits is fantastic.

Who is your favorite author? E.M. Forster, partly because of what I said above about A Room With A View. The novel is short, but crammed with interesting ideas and engaging dialogue. He has a unique voice that spoke to me as a teenager, and my appreciation for his writing has only increased over the many years since. Read Howards End. Read Maurice. Read Where Angels Fear to Tread. Read A Passage to India. But start with A Room With A View.

I know a lot of people would say Howards End is his masterpiece, and they’re probably right about that, but I’m telling you, the book that has meant the most to me over the years is A Room With A View. I’ve kept a copy of it with me since I first read it in 1985, and it’s traveled with me from Minnesota to Seattle and back again. Lucy Honeychurch’s ongoing muddle is something I’ve lived, and survived, and it means more to me every time I read the book. More than anything, it’s a book about authenticity vs hypocrisy, and that just fucking speaks to me, you know?

How did you start getting involved in fanfiction? Several years ago, I read a Sherlock fic called “The Road Less Traveled.” It was during the long, painful, post-Reichenbach Fall hiatus between series 2 and 3, and I found myself looking for something to read that would fill the gap. I’d never had much interest in fanfic before, but this thing did something to me.

I didn’t start writing fanfic until I saw an episode of Supernatural that I found upsetting. (Don’t get me started…) I started writing a little thing to try to fix the stupidity. I wrote a couple of things, but the show did everything in its power to kill my interest in it, so I drifted away. (That said, I am very proud of my short Destiel Christmas fic, which I still think is very cute and makes me wish things had played out differently.)

From there, I started writing Stony (Steve/Tony, mostly based on the MCU, but with some elements of various Marvel comics I’ve read over the years). I wrote several things in that fandom, and most of it was extremely stupid, but there are bits and pieces that I’m still rather fond of. I still want to finish my long fic that’s been gathering dust for a couple of years now. Oops.

How did you get involved with Barisi? Barisi is probably the first fandom that I’ve written for that really seemed to embrace me and encourage me to keep doing this. A friend of mine has been watching SVU forever, and would reference things occasionally on chat while she was watching it. (See also: SEX PARTY MEASLES BABY, an intriguing statement that I didn’t actually understand for YEARS.) I started watching SVU off and on, a few episodes here or there, sometime in 2018. I started at the beginning, and worked my way through the whole thing. When I started it, I was mostly in it for Olivia Benson. But I knew Raúl Esparza had been on the show at some point, and at the time, I was in the “oh, I think I remember seeing him in something, he’s good” camp.

It wasn’t until I got to season 14 that I lost my mind over the show. Rafael Barba is one of the greatest characters ever written for tv, and I’m so thrilled he came along and blew my frickin’ mind. My appreciation for Raúl Esparza went through the roof, and it made me go look for him in other things, which fed into my spiraling appreciation.

Fast forward to season 16. Sonny Carisi walks in, and is… a beautiful, mustachioed mess. I love him from the moment I see him, and I say, “Oh shit, this is the love of Rafael Barba’s life, isn’t it?” This is even before they’ve shared a scene. This is before they’ve blatantly checked each other out. This is just me recognizing the potential, and craving it. Then he shaves that stache and starts dressing better, and he’s shadowing Barba and they’re working cases together and Barba’s being KIND TO HIM? COME ON.

Naturally, I started thinking about writing them. And it wasn’t coming from a place of “I need to fix this episode” or “I need to work out a recent trauma” driving me. It was just “ugh, they have an amazing dynamic and I want to explore it and I want to see what their home life would look like.” That’s how I ended up writing Carisi’s Goddamn Legs. Suddenly I was being bombarded with thoughtful comments from readers. In one such comment, Maxi (mforpaul) asked me where I could be reached on other platforms, and messaged me privately about the story, and made a big deal out of tracking me down on Twitter, introducing me to the rest of the fandom. And that fandom turned out to be filled with really amazing people, who think about big issues like justice and queerness and representation. Those same people are also wonderfully silly and down to earth. The power of this fandom!

What inspires you to write? Lots of things. Life, because it is weird and messy and wonderful. My closest friend, who is a springboard for a lot of my nonsense, is always eager for me to write something new. My love of a ridiculous turn of phrase. The quest for dialogue that sounds in-character and natural. Sometimes, it’s just the seed of an idea, a thought that won’t leave me alone, like, “I bet a short king would be obsessed with those long, noodly legs.” Because I, a short queen, am similarly obsessed.

Sometimes, when the writing fever is upon me, it’s hard to sleep, hard to think of anything other than the story I’m working on. I just want to get it all out and done. If I’m writing something that I really enjoy, or feel very closely connected to, I physically tremble as I write. When that happens, I know I’m on the right track, and I don’t want to stop writing. I just want to inhabit that space, and wallow in that feeling.

What is your favorite fic that you have written? Carisi's Goddamn Legs is really something. The pining, the uncertainty, the slowly dawning realization, but most of all, that scene at Lorenzo’s, where it all comes to a head and the way it creeps to the edge of intimacy and then is interrupted by Lorenzo and a retreat to the casual, only to be sent right back to the edge… I’ve re-read the damn thing several times since I wrote it, and that scene gets to me every time. I really like it a lot. I like the dynamic between them so very much, and the way the truth tumbles out of Carisi literally makes me shake.

What is your favorite quote from a fic of yours? Ooh, yikes, this is hard. I have a couple of lines I really like. One is short, one is longer. Just like Barisi.

One of them (from Carisi's Goddamn Legs ) was something I gave to Olivia, as she tries to counsel Rafael on his worries that his emotional armor isn’t protecting him the way it used to.

“Wear and tear, I guess. Armor was never meant to be worn all the time.”

It’s a line that means something to me, personally, because I spent a substantial chunk of my life in armor, hiding who I was and trying to settle for “the best you can expect” rather than my actual heart’s desire. When I dismantled that wall, things got chaotic for a while, but I also realized I was capable of emotional depths and soaring heights I didn’t think possible for me. It’s something that the Jenny of today wants to whisper (or shout) at the Jenny of 25-30 years ago, and it’s that part of me that relates to Rafael’s journey from a lifetime of SHIELDS UP! to embracing vulnerability and intimacy. (I actually really like that whole scene between them, because I love their friendship and think it’s beautiful, and crave more of that dynamic. Platonic intimacy is gorgeous, and woefully underappreciated in most entertainment. I could go on for hours about that, but I won’t. Not right now, anyway.)

And from Staten Island Serenade, this passage of Rafael gazing at a sleeping Sonny really gets to me.

“As hard as it was some days, Rafael knew without question he wanted to be right here with him, because Sonny was worth the effort. He was a bewildering mess of contradictions and weirdness, too smart for his own good but capable of saying the most ridiculous shit Rafael had ever heard. Somehow everything about him was beautiful, and inspired something in Rafael that felt pure, and almost holy, or would be if he believed in holiness. Like Cymon of old, transformed in every way by the exquisite sight of sleeping Iphigenia, Rafael found himself similarly transformed; ennobled by the nearness of Sonny Carisi, someone so decent, so kind, so truly beautiful inside and out that it would have been a sacrilege not to strive to be a better man.”

What is your personal favorite fanfic?

Again with the hard questions. I don’t even know where to begin. I honestly can’t point to ONE and say, “This is it! THE FAVE.” I’m so sorry I’m not able to narrow down my faves on anything. I’m terrible at this.

There are several Sherlock fics that I’ve read and re-read over the years, which I think really nailed their voices and their characters, and gave me things to think about. The Road Less Traveled will always be a favorite of mine, because it was the first, and because it is beautiful.

Pass Here And Go On by abogadobarba hits all the right notes for me. It rocketed to the top of my list the moment I read it. I’ve read it about ten times so far. I am ridiculous.

So Far in a Few Blocks by PhillyStrega is one of the only AUs I’ve ever read and loved. I’m not really an AU person, but shut UP, I love this story.

You Made Them Feel Like They Had the Devil Inside Them by cypress_tree really got to me. It’s about one of those issues that hits very close to home, and I think it’s a beautifully-written story about something that matters.

Anything else you would like to add?

I just want to say how much I love this fandom. I love my fellow inhabitants of Barisi Nation. I love that I get to obsess over things like the intersections of faith and queerness and humanism and sex and domesticity and justice and goodness. Even if nobody else wanted to read my stories, I think I’d still be over here, writing like mad, because I love these characters and it’s a genuine joy for me to spend time in their heads. But gosh, it’s gratifying to know the hours I spend on this silliness actually pay off for other people, too. I love hearing from people who’ve read my stories and found something meaningful in them, or giggled at something ridiculous Sonny said, or thought a sex scene was… well, anyway. You know.

I’m so grateful to get to do this. And I appreciate the hell out of all you lovely humans. You make me happy.

#barisi #Author of the month #Author recommendation #Juniperhoot

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drarry-with-a-side-of-wolfstar · 5 years

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Drarry Fic Recs

My Favourite Drarry fanfictions from the past two years.

Stop All the Clocks (This is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by @firethesound [E, 44K] Major Character Death

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

You open always (petal by petal) by birdsofshore [E, 65K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is.

Lumos by birdsofshore [E, 41K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

Touch by @bixgirl1 [E, 44K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

When Harry is referred to a professional cuddler for the soothing power of touch, he’s dubious — even more so when the Cuddler who shows up turns out to be Malfoy. But in the years since the war, Malfoy’s changed, and over the next several days Harry is confronted by how much he still doesn’t know about this new version of his old enemy — and by how much he wants to learn.

Draw a Line From Your Heart To Mine by CreateImagineWrite [T, 40K] Creator Not To Use Archive Warnings

Being Harry Potter's best friend isn't always fame and beating off raving fans. It's also the anxiety of hearing your best mate's been cursed by another Dark Lord, or love potioned by some crazy woman. Or having his boyfriend you knew nothing about turn up on the Burrow's doorstep. Crime/Mystery fic.

My Big Fat Pureblood Wedding Series by QueenyMidas [E, 306K] No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage

Chaos ensues after Harry proposes to Draco on their three-year anniversary. The two must plan a wedding around their fighting friends, warring families, and each other's stubbornness. EWE, post-war, disregarding Remus, Sirius, and Colin's deaths and the fact that gay marriage is not legal in the UK.

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There by @magpiefngrl [E, 16K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Draco discovers the Mirror of Erised is a portal and he enters an alternate reality where your deepest desires come true.

Or how Draco found himself in the world of his dreams and Potter had to come and ruin it.

Nearly Lost Things, Carefully Tended by SquadOfCats [E, 46K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Three years after the war, Harry is lost, drifting, and feeling left behind. In an effort to get control of his life, he commits to cleaning out Grimmauld Place top-to-bottom and forcing it to be a home, whether it likes it or not. The rotten old house is stuffed full of antiques, and Harry is shocked to discover none other than Draco Malfoy running the local antique shop. Malfoy is polite -- too polite, and Harry soon finds himself with a mission: to annoy and bother Malfoy with the most hideous, absurd antiques he can find. But along the way, Harry comes to appreciate Draco, his work, and the power of connecting to the people who came before him. It's a hard lesson, but Harry learns that if he wants to build a future, he has to reconnect to his past, and Draco might just be the one to help him do it.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound [E, 149K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Kiss the Joy (Until the Sun Rise) by ICMezzo [M, 37K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

The Room of Requirement was severely damaged in the war, but not so much that it could not provide for one lost student and another young hero—especially when they needed each other most of all.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by Faith Wood [E, 21K] No Archive Warnings Apply

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Lost Boys by Dahlia_Rose_83 [E, 32K] No Archive Warnings Apply

On his way to meet Voldemort in the forbidden forest, Harry ran into Draco, who kissed him. Now they're both back at Hogwarts for their eighth year and he doesn't really know how to act towards the blond.

Wish Upon a Star (as Dreamers Do) by ICMezzo [M, 27K] No Archive Warnings Apply

There’s plant magic and celestial magic and dark magic and the normal magic that allows Harry to use a spell to clean his socks when Myrtle’s taken up in his laundry room again. Then there are wishes, and dreams, and love, and those are even more magical still. Career Choices: Harry: Hogwarts Consultant; Draco: Wishmaker

At The Crossroads There We’ll Meet by @firethesound [E, 24K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Potter keeps dying; Draco keeps saving him.

Solder by Oakstone730 [E, 34K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Seven years ago, Harry disappeared out of Draco and Scorpius's life without a trace after Harry's addictions destroyed his and Draco's marriage. Now, Harry’s back, and Draco wants to believe he’s changed. But Harry isn’t the only one haunted by the past.

The Devil’s White Knight [E, 64K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

When Harry wakes up in an alternate timeline--a timeline where Voldemort was defeated long before the first war--he discovers everything is different. His parents, his godfather, his friends--and him. Harry must deal with the consequences of who he would have been if he had been raised by his parents, and figure out where he stands with his casual hook up, Draco Malfoy.

Teach Me by @xx-thedarklord-xx [M, 34k] No Archive Warnings Apply

"If you can’t learn Occlumency, then you can’t become an Auror.”

No. All of this couldn’t be for nothing. Harry hadn’t spent so much time proving himself, proving that he was more than just a famous name for all of this to go to shite. “This can’t be the end.”

"I have someone in mind that could teach you if you are willing, but I can't guarantee he will help, especially considering your... past."

"You don't mean Malfoy, do you?"

Running on Air by eleventy7 [T, 74K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

The Light That is Blinding Me by Leontina [E, 22K] No Archive Warnings Apply

After Flourish and Blotts stop stocking the books of Harry’s favourite author, he is directed to a queer bookshop and discovers it’s owned by none other than Draco Malfoy, who has more in common with Harry than either of them realise.

Another Mask Behind You by @letteredlettered [E, 116K] Rape/Non-Con

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)

Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin [E, 127K] Graphic Depictions of Violence

When they first meet after the end of the war, Draco doesn't want anything to do with Harry. But as time goes by, Draco's growing love may be the only thing that can save them both, because after a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes. At first, Harry credits this to a new enthusiasm for life. But as the days pass and Draco's behavior becomes more and more mysterious, Harry begins to suspect that something bigger--and darker--is at work.

Any Instrument by dicta_contrion [E, 131K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

And Back Again (Where You Belong) by @eidheann [E, 15K] No Archive Warnings Apply

He thought back on their previous handshakes, and smiled faintly at the fact they always seemed to mean so much more to him than they did to Potter.

And I Know the Spark by @firethesound [E, 15K] Graphic Depictions of Violence

All Draco cares about is keeping Potter alive, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

The Light More Beautiful by @firethesound [E, 81K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him.

Of Wands And Trees by Omi_Ohmy [E, 45K] No Archive Warnings Apply

All Draco wants to do is be a wandmaker, but to do so he needs to understand the soul of trees. Of course, the only man who might be able to help him is the one man who is more of a mystery to him than any tree.

My Little Berserker by @aelys-althea [E, 105K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Eighth year was supposed to be calm. Moderated. Peaceful, even. Draco returned to escape the chaos wrought upon his shambles of a life and Harry to flee the responsibility of a world that sees him as something greater than was truly possible. Hogwarts was a safe haven, right?At least it was until Hagrid comes up with the wonderful idea to introduce some additional members to the student body of the fluffier variety. Hagrid doesn't do moderated - where's the fun in that?

Paradigm by dysonrules [M, 57K] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Harry Potter is an Auror and Draco Malfoy is a rentboy, but this is not a typical rentboy story.

Tear Out The Pages by alphinski [T, 74K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Draco didn't do things by halves. Instead of just walking out on Harry, he left the country. He's back now with a book and half the Wizarding World fawning over him. Harry refuses to join that number.

In The Hand by aideomai [T, 28] Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Two months after Harry went missing, when Hermione was frantic with fear and panic and sleep deprivation, Draco Malfoy cornered them outside the Great Hall before breakfast.

The Claiming of Grimmauld Place by @bixgirl1 [E, 74K] No Archive Warnings Apply

When Grimmauld Place begins fighting against Harry’s ownership of it, he decides he needs help to train the historic home — but little does he expect that it’ll be Malfoy who’s most suitable for the challenge. However, as Malfoy and Harry get closer, Harry comes to understand that expectations aren’t always the best path by which to guide his heart — and in the process learns just what is needed to make a house a home.

The Frisky Furnishings of Malfoy Manor by @writcraft [M, 19K] No Archive Warnings Apply

The course of true love never did run smooth.Or: Hermione has a crafty plan, Harry and Draco are fake boyfriends and wizarding traditions have a lot to answer for. Featuring awkward dates, mince pies, a saucy sofa and a line of sequined house-elf haute couture nobody asked for but got anyway.

The Arrangement by RurouniHime [E, 65K] No Archive Warnings Apply

It's worked for years. Why change it now?

The Truth is in the Rain by aki_hoshi [E, 74K] No Archive Warnings Apply

It rained, and Harry Potter was his friend. There isn't any hard and fast rule for friendship, or even love. It comes, sometimes as unwanted as the rain, and its effect lingers long after it's gone. Draco struggles to understand why this is all happening to him, and why Potter can't just go bother someone else.

Adventures in Solitude (Are You There Sirius? It’s Me, Draco) by oceaxe [E, 25K] No Archive Warnings Apply

Draco is grateful to have had Sirius’ portrait to confide in all those years ago, about his sexuality and unwanted feelings for a classmate named Harry. But when he gets the portrait out of storage after twenty years, the secrets he has kept from Sirius all along come out. Secrets about Draco’s role in the war... and secrets about Harry Potter.

The Standard You Walk Past by @bafflinghaze [E, 46K] No Archive Warnings Apply

On returning to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year, Headmistress McGonagall decided to room Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together. She may have hoped for a leading example of house unity; the other students fully expected insults and fights. But nothing happened. That was, until Harry sleepwalked into Draco’s bed.

I could be wrong, I could be ready by @harryromper [M, 57K] No Archive Warnings Apply

At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter. The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine. Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy. Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter.

I’ll probably keep adding to this list as I find/read more amazing fics!

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nottskyler · 5 years

Text

Dear President Oaks,

We are all one in the body of Christ and it is very clear that your responsibility in guiding the body of Christ is to listen to the pain signals given from other parts of the body of Christ. As a faithful LGBT member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I want to say your words at the press release caused a lot of pain and the LGBT portion of the body of Christ pleads with you to stop and listen.

You say you don’t know why people are LGBT or other queer identities. You speak as if we are dysfunctional parts of the body, but we aren’t. Arms are different from elbows which are different from wrists and fingers, and even fingers differ one from another. Luckily in a Church that relies heavily on personal revelation, you don’t have to figure out our place on your own. You can listen to what the spirit has testified in our hearts and learn how it applies to the running of Christ’s Church. The first thing many of us did when we discovered we weren’t cis or hetero was fall to our knees and ask Gd why, and He responded. Here are the truths that I learned in turning to Gd:

1) Gd loves me and made me this way. There is nothing wrong with me. His purpose is to bring to pass my immortality and eternal life and making me bi and trans was an essential part of my journey to have a change of heart and get to know Gd (which is eternal life according to John 17:3).

2) There are philosophies of men that have snuck into the teachings of the Church when it comes to marriage and gender and Gd has sent more LGBT individuals in our time to helps us root out these lies so we can more fully enjoy the fruits of the Gospel.

3) Gd is not a respecter of persons. As long as someone has faith, Gd will reveal Himself to them and truths that are important to their life. This means there is something we can learn from everyone (Alma 32:23).

4) The Church is not meant to be perfect. If all we had to do was blindly follow our leaders, we would never learn the traits required to be even as Gd is. Corrections and changes in the Church are necessary to learn repentance and how to get answers on our own.

5) Gender is eternal. Even though there was nothing in my gender expression that was outside what is acceptable for women in our society, there was a dissonance caused by the mismatch of my spirit and body. It testifies to me that I am without beginning or end just like Gd.

6) The reason Gd does anything is “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). That means that He allows me and others to believe things that are not true as long as it leads us to Him. Also, mistakes that we make are important because it creates holes that need to be made perfect through Christ’s atonement. Without those mistakes, there would be no space for Him to come in and heal.

7) Gd wants me to live up to my potential and privilege as a member of His restored Church. President Uchtdorf’s parable about the man on the cruise eating cans of beans in his cabin has always struck an uncomfortable chord with me until I realized it was because I was like that man. Denying my eternal identity and living in the closet was keeping me from being who Gd wants and needs me to be. “Adam fell that men might be and men are that they might have joy” (2 Nephi 2:25). The apostles have always made it clear that the joy is for this life as well as in the next. I have to be true to my eternal identity in order to live up to my mortal potential and privilege.

8) Christ stands with the marginalized. Every minute I spend among LGBT individuals, listening to their stories and feeling their pain, Gd testifies to me that He is with them and that I am more like Christ for being among them as Christ would, helping share their burdens and sharing the hope and love that Gd has given me.

9) Spiritual laws are eternal and unchanging and ignorance will not save me from the natural effects of breaking them. I was in despair that kept growing more and more as time went on. I knew from Moroni 10:22 that meant I was doing something wrong. I did everything to be the perfect Mormon girl and repented of every small act and the despair was never lifted. It wasn’t until I accepted my eternal identity and began living my life as a man that it has begun to go away. I have a long way ahead on my transition, but I trust that the seed will continue to grow as it has so far and continue to dispel the cloud of doom. It taught me that even though I was unaware that I was living contrary to my eternal gender, I was not immune to the temporal consequences of my actions.

I know “to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” (Ecclesiastes 3:1), but Gd’s LGB children have been wandering in the spiritual desert for over 40 years since informing you of their pain and inability to come to the same truth as you. In the Temple we learn that anyone who is listening can hear Gd’s words as the command is passed down the line. We heard Gd tell you that the time of excluding His LGB children is up. He told you to treat homosexual relationships the same as you treat heterosexual relationships and we hurt when we heard you added your own exclusions. Gd isn’t telling you to start performing gay marriages in the Temple, He is telling you to stop asking LGB members to live a different law of chastity than the one given in the temple, “which is that the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve only have sexual relations with those to whom they are legally and lawfully married according to Gd’s law”.

Discussion about being trans has not been as prevalent or pervasive as the LGB discussion in the Church because, up until your ill-informed announcement, the Church was more friendly towards trans individuals than LGB individuals. The Church allows members to socially transition and take hormones to help them manage the dissonance from their spirit-body mismatch. In fact, I’ve heard many positive stories where Church leaders allowed trans individuals to attend meetings that best matched their gender identity and how it unified and strengthened the ward. Trans individuals have pointed to the line in the Family: A Proclamation since it was released where it declares that gender is eternal to express their feelings as a trans individual. They testify more vehemently than anyone else that gender is important and that it is eternal. And now you point to the line and declare that those who most strongly support it are wrong and that the flesh is more indicative of a spiritual truth than knowledge that is spiritually obtained? (1 Corinthians 2:14)

I am grateful that Gd led me on this journey before you decided to speak your personal beliefs as if they were from Gd because I am one who does their best to listen and obey the counsel of Gd’s apostles and prophets. It would have made me question the office and authority that Gd gave you, likely leading me to leave the Church like so many others, instead of treating this as a mystery of Gd that hasn’t been revealed that I could discover for myself because He can’t wait to share His truths to those who earnestly seek them. I found the truth and I know it is true as easily as I can tell the day time from the night (Moroni 7:15-17). Living as trans has brought me closer to Christ. It has given me the strength to not deny Him to my fellow man. It has filled me with His love and given me the capacity to share it with others and invite them to Christ.

I invite you to listen to the pain messages from the trans portion of Christ’s body, especially because your careless words are going to make the suffering a lot worse for us. If you wish to stop the worst of the pain, I recommend requiring Church leaders to use living names and pronouns for trans people at Church and in Church associated gatherings, encouraging trans individuals to attend gendered meetings and activities that match their gender identity most closely, when they legally change their name and pronouns their records need to indicate the change (FTM, MTF, MTN, and FTN are acceptable), and there should be no punishment for seeking surgery as treatment for gender dysphoria. These policies would ease the pain of trans members of Christ’s restored Church and increase their capacity to help build up the Kingdom of Gd on earth.

Gd has a place in His plan for His LGBT children. We ask that you take a step of faith and love and let us participate without restrictions that you wouldn’t place on a cis and straight member of the Church. We want to marry and not be punished for it, we want to be recognized by our living name and pronouns as any individual wishes to be, we want to seek treatment to mental illness without judgment and punishment, we want to be treated as equal members without restrictions because being LGBT is not a choice. The choice we have is whether we will be who Gd created us to be or suffer the depression and despair that comes from breaking eternal laws. We can wait for revelation for understanding our place in the eternities and priesthood and temple ordinances, but don’t ask us to suffer not being treated as equals, not being treated with common decency, facing judgment instead of love from family members and ward members who justify their behavior by saying they are simply doing what the prophets tell them. Please stop feeding the hate and encouraging them to persecute us. Please love us the way the Savior would.

Sincerely,

Skyler

#i couldn't sleep last night because all of this was on my mind #i'm hurting for myself and others because this is the first open rejection of trans people #why is he teaching a gospel of hate?#if only i were brave enough to actually send it to him #is it even kosher to send letters to apostles you don't know personally?#dear mormons #trans #church of jesus christ of latter-day saints #time for my turn to help shoulder the burden i helped perpetuate before #my deep apologies #but Gd is with us and loves us and will not abandon us

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lets-talk-story · 5 years

Text

Pied Piper of Hamelin

Hamelin town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The River Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity.

Rats! They fought the dogs, and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats, By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.

At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking: "'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy; And as for our Corporation -- shocking To think we buy gowns lined with ermine For dolts that can't or won't determine What's best to rid us of our vermin! You hope, because you're old and obese, To find in the furry civic robe ease? Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking To find the remedy we're lacking, Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!" At this the Mayor and Corporation Quaked with a mighty consternation.

An hour they sate in council, At length the Mayor broke silence: "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell, I wish I were a mile hence! It's easy to bid one rack one's brain -- I'm sure my poor head aches again I've scratched it so, and all in vain. Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber-door but a gentle tap? "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "What's that?" (With the Corporation as he sat, Looking little though wondrous fat; Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister Than a too-long-opened oyster, Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous For a plate of turtle, green and glutinous.) "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!"

"Come in!" -- the Mayor cried, looking bigger: And in did come the strangest figure! His queer long coat from heel to head Was half of yellow and half of red; And he himself was tall and thin, With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, But lips where smiles went out and in -- There was no guessing his kith and kin! And nobody could enough admire The tall man and his quaint attire. Quoth one: "It's as my great-grandsire, Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"

He advanced to the council-table: And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able, By means of a secret charm, to draw All creatures living beneath the sun, That creep, or swim, or fly, or run, After me so as you never saw! And I chiefly use my charm On creatures that do people harm, The mole, and toad, and newt, and viper; And people call me the Pied Piper." (And here they noticed round his neck A scarf of red and yellow stripe, To match with his coat of selfsame cheque; And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying As if impatient to be playing Upon this pipe, as low it dangled Over his vesture, so old-fangled.) "Yet," said he "poor piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham, Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats; I eased in Asia the Nizam Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats: And, as for what your brain bewilders, If I can rid your town of rats Will you give me a thousand guilders?" "One? fifty thousand!" -- was the exclamation Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.

Into the street the Piper stept, Smiling first a little smile, As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while; Then, like a musical adept, To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled; And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, You heard as if an army muttered; And the muttering grew to a grumbling; And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; And out of the houses the rats came tumbling: Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives -- Followed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped, advancing, And step for step, they followed, dancing, Until they came to the river Weser Wherein all plunged and perished -- Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar, Swam across and lived to carry (As he the manuscript he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary: Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, Into a cider press's gripe: And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, And the drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks; And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, Oh rats, rejoice! The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon! And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, All ready staved, like a great sun shone Glorious scarce an inch before me, Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!' -- I found the Weser rolling o'er me."

You should have heard the Hamelin people Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles! Poke out the nests and block up the holes! Consult with carpenters and builders, And leave in our town not even a trace Of the rats!" -- when suddenly up the face Of the Piper perked in the market-place, With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; So did the Corporation, too. For council dinners made rare havoc With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; And half the money would replenish Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. To pay this sum to a wandering fellow With a gypsy coat of red and yellow! "Beside," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, "Our business was done at the river's brink; We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, And what's dead can't come to life, I think. So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink From the duty of giving you something for drink, And a matter of money to put in your poke; But, as for the guilders, what we spoke Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. Beside, our losses have made us thrifty: A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"

The Piper's face fell, and he cried, "No trifling! I can't wait, beside! I've promised to visit, by dinner-time Bagdat, and accept the prime Of the Head Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, Of a nest of scorpions no survivor: With him I proved no bargain-driver, With you, don't think I'll bait a stiver! And folks who put me in a passion May find me pipe to another fashion."

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook Being worse treated than a cook? Insulted by a lazy ribald With idle pipe and vesture piebald? You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, Blow your pipe there till you burst!"

Once more he stept into the street; And to his lips again Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; And ere he blew three notes (such sweet Soft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood As if they were changed into blocks of wood, Unable to move a step, or cry To the children merrily skipping by, -- Could only follow with the eye That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. But how the Mayor was on the rack, And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, As the Piper turned from the High Street To where the Weser rolled its waters Right in the way of their sons and daughters! However he turned from South to West, And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, And after him the children pressed; Great was the joy in every breast. "He never can cross that mighty top! He's forced to let the piping drop, And we shall see our children stop!" When, lo! as they reached the mountain-side, A wondrous portal opened wide, As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; And the Piper advanced and the children followed, And when all were in to the very last, The door in the mountain-side shut fast. Did I say, all? No! One was lame, And could not dance the whole of the way; And in after years, if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say, -- "It's dull in our town since my playmates left! I can't forget that I'm bereft Of all the pleasant sights they see, Which the Piper also promised me; For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, Joining the town and just at hand, Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, And flowers put forth a fairer hue, And everything was strange and new; The sparrows were brighter than the peacocks here, And their dogs outran our fallow deer, And honey-bees had lost their stings, And horses were born with eagles' wings; And just as I became assured My lame foot would be speedily cured, The music stopped and I stood still, And found myself outside the hill, Left alone against my will, To go now limping as before, And never hear of that country more!"

Alas, alas for Hamelin! There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says, that heaven's Gate Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the needle's eye takes a camel in! The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South To offer the Piper by word of mouth, Wherever it was men's lot to find him, Silver and gold to his heart's content, If he'd only return the way he went, And bring the children behind him. But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor, And Piper and dancers were gone forever, They made a decree that lawyers never Should think their records dated duly If, after the day of the month and year, These words did not as well appear, "And so long after what happened here On the Twenty-second of July, Thirteen hundred and Seventy-six;" And the better in memory to fix The place of the children's last retreat, They called it, the Pied Piper's Street -- Where any one playing on pipe or tabor Was sure for the future to lose his labor. Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern To shock with mirth a street so solemn; But opposite the place of the cavern They wrote the story on a column, And on the great church-window painted The same, to make the world acquainted How their children were stolen away, And there it stands to this very day. And I must not omit to say That in Transylvania there's a tribe Of alien people that ascribe The outlandish ways and dress On which their neighbors lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterraneous prison Into which they were trepanned Long time ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand.

So, Willy, let you and me be wipers Of scores out with all men -- especially pipers; And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.

#pied piper #pied piper of hamelin #poem #nursery rhymes #poetry #mice #children #music

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amykingpoet · 5 years

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“There comes a point in everyone’s lives where we start to recognize that we are making choices, that we are determining who we are by the actions that we make,” poet, educator and activist Amy King stated in a 2015 speech at SUNY Nassau Community College, where she is a professor of English and creative writing. “What we do says a lot about who we are, not just what we say.”

As a young child growing up in the Bible Belt, King remembers going to the grocery store with her grandfather—her one source of stability, love and unconditional support at that time who, “everyday,” made comments that she was learning to understand were racist. She recalls watching her grandfather flirt with a Black woman who was checking out their groceries. “I was very young,” she told students about that day. “I didn’t even have the vocabulary at that point to recognize this feeling or to articulate what this feeling was, but it was the feeling that something hypocritical was going on.”

That was when King, who identifies as queer, began trying to figure out how to address those moments in her family. “A story begins when a protagonist recognizes a conflict and begins to address how to correct that conflict,” she shared, “and some of us choose not to address that conflict—and that is a story too.”

After growing up in Stone Mountain, Georgia, King lived with her father in Baltimore, Maryland. As a teenager, she worked for the National Security Agency after testing high for analytical skills, but says she felt “uncomfortable” there, even just at 17, and “didn’t like the way the institution was run.”

Two consistent themes throughout King’s life are “social justice and story.” Her latest book, The Missing Museum, is described as “a kind of directory of the world as it rushes into extinction, in order to preserve and transform it at once.” Publishing it won her the 2015 Tarpaulin Sky Book Prize and vaulted her to the ranks of legends like Ann Patchett, Eleanor Roosevelt, Rachel Carson and Pearl Buck when she received the 2015 Women’s National Book Association Award. (Named one of “40 Under 40: The Future of Feminism” awardees by the Feminist Press, King also received the 2012 SUNY Chancellor’s Award for Excellence in Scholarship and Creative Activities.)

King is co-editor of the anthology Big Energy Poets: Ecopoetry Thinks Climate Change and the anthology series Bettering American Poetry; her other books include I Want to Make You Safe, one of Boston Globe’s Best Poetry Books of 2011. Much of her prose, activism and other projects focus on exploring and supporting the work of other women writers, especially writers of color. King is a founding member of VIDA: Women in Literary Arts and former Editor-in-Chief of VIDA Review.

During a 2014 interview King gave for Houston’s Public Poetry Reading Series, she spoke on the subject of trying to understand poetry by asking a pivotal question: “What is ‘understanding’ and what is an ‘experience’ with a piece of art?” She went on to say poetry should “jostle” us out of our regular ways of thinking—it should “undo” us in ways that are both good and uncomfortable.

For this installment of Ms. Muse, King opens up about learning to speak up and step up—and shares three new poems with Ms. readers. Here’s to hoping that they “undo” you.

THE POEMS

Selling Short

I cannot afford to live in the city I teach in, & the number of people sleeping in cars has grown, indivisibly. This is not a dream of guarantees but the pursuit of handwritten freedoms that night the sting away. Demons of clinics devise distribution mechanics based on who you were born to & who you might know. The 2 a.m. quiet promises no solace or silence when days are hobbled & taken. Soon, light will be privately owned.

I’m Building a Body to Burn My Effigy In

I will not mention stars Today. They have been used for purposes not their own. Listen to them. Give them space. Observe but leave them distant. If you think you know everything about them now, you have outgrown yourself. In the south we say bigger than your britches burns, but I do not wish to confuse. I want to learn.

Joy Even

The denim and calico patchwork of my childhood. Mothballs in a little black box, felt lining each crevice. Michael Jackson on a hobbled turntable someone left at the apartment complex curb. Costwald Village. Regal. British. Anything but.

The dislocation of Backwoods, Georgia. The first time a man touched me, his semen glistening my inner thighs.

“Thriller” and the plywood coffee table. The hoarder grocery bag maze and Childcraft Encyclopedias flayed across the shag. My 12-year-old amazement. My 12-year-old embryo. The fact of a body electric, searing for days. Turning that birthed another world with a song and dance.

So many ways to joy. Some to death. My anything. Me, anything. Joy even.

THE INTERVIEW

Can you tell me about your process of writing “I’m Building a Body to Burn My Effigy In,” “Joy Even” and “Selling Short”?

I don’t have one process. Sometimes compiled notes take shape. Or a poem just falls out of me as if, gored, the liver drops from my body. The heart seeping sounds more fitting, but a liver plop fits better.

“I’m Building a Body…” comes from an interest in physics and mortality.

“Joy Even” is part of the slow-burn of outlining a memoir.

“Selling Short” emerges as predictive dream, touching on issues that have recently led me to Rosi Braidotti’s “The Posthuman.”

What childhood experiences with language informed your relationship with poetry?

When I first moved to live with my father in Baltimore at 15, I spoke slowly and heard the same. I often said “What?” in a deep southern drawl, uncertain of my own ears, which was probably also testament to a deeper uncertainty too. My father was my only safety line in a house full of strangers and with a stepmother who, quite quickly, began to play her own uncertainties out on me.

One day, as usual, I asked “What?” and my dad, no longer riding the romance of his daughter’s betrayal of her mother to be with him, the winner, suddenly shouted at me, “DO YOU REALLY NOT KNOW WHAT WE’RE SAYING?” It shocked the shit out of me. I made adjustments over time to alter the way I spoke, how I heard, to absorb unknown word usages and infer what I could. And to recover from what that moment meant.

You might prefer the story of how I used to read Gertrude Stein to friends over the phone to annoy them until I realized I had tricked myself as I was enjoying sounding her poetry aloud. Or how I grew up reading Nancy Drew and science fiction late into the wee hours and then woke up and watched Saturday morning cartoons in black and white. But this moment with my father shattered something. Luckily, the cracks are often where we make things and the broken pieces what we make things with.

I’m stunned by that moment with your father and your struggle to understand what people around you were saying. I’m also struck by the notion of the poet as a young girl not trusting her own ears, as you say. How did you learn to make out the words all around you–and to trust yourself?

I don’t think I ever have really. I just embrace the temporality of life a bit more than usual and go with what comes across. It’s why I am not embarrassed to ask someone to pass the “lotion” for the salad or to verb nouns for decades now. I think subconsciously I suppressed my accent as a response to my father, but that shock taught me that not only is my mother unreliable, but so is the alternative, my father. I had already been disabused of the notion of unconditional love; I was holding out hope in him for at least a lasting, warm embrace. I’ve grown since that bottoming out: DNA is not all, and one can find family—and become family—elsewhere.

This is all linked to the notion that people speak to signal group intimacy; language is shaped by mutual alliances and allegiances. When family rejects your language needs, believe the message it sends and seek anew.

Do you seek out poetry by women and non-binary writers? If so, since when and why? More specifically, how has the work of feminist poets mattered in your childhood and/or your life as an adult?

I won a city-wide fiction contest for Baltimore ArtScape during my senior year of high school. It was judged by Lucille Clifton, which made a lasting impression on me. I was not a writer, but my high school English teacher, Carolyn Benfer, encouraged me tremendously. I was attending a vocational school in the city and, up to that point, was destined to become a CPA.

From there, I attended the University of Maryland at Towson State and had the good fortune to enroll as a double major in English and Women’s Studies. The latter program is especially noteworthy as the program served as the model for many other Women’s Studies programs across the country, as envisioned and spearheaded by Elaine Hedges, who was also an active feminist, affiliated with the Feminist Press. This program led me to numerous marginalized writers back in the early nineties that I likely would not have encountered so early on independently or simply from core English classes.

I cannot speak highly enough about the work that Women’s Studies program did. The short answer is that the program taught me to seek work by marginalized writers as I would be missing out on so much otherwise. I do not seek literature simply to reflect my own experiences—I seek to learn beyond them.

What groundbreaking (or ancient) works, forms, ideas and issues in poetry today interest and concern you?

There is no one work, and as such, I continue to read widely. There are so many books I have not read yet, which is thrilling. Some of my touchstones range from Cesar Vallejo to Leonora Carrington to Audre Lorde to James Baldwin to Lucille Clifton to Gertrude Stein to John Ashbery. There are numerous younger poets I look to for energy, shifts in consciousness and awareness of current cultural concerns and who also signal structural and formal changes. A handful include Billy-Rae Belcourt, Chen Chen, Joshua Jennifer Espinoza, Vievee Francis, Airea D. Matthews, Raquel Salas Rivera, TC Tolbert, Ocean Vuong and Phillip B. Williams—but this by no means is an exhaustive list. Check out the poets anthologized in the Bettering American Poetry series I am lucky enough to be a part of.

As a woman, and as a woman who writes, what do you need to support your work? What opportunities, support, policies and actions can/could make a direct difference for you—and for other women writers you know?

Besides the room, money and time Virginia Woolf called for, I’m beginning to find that a support network is vital. I don’t think this needs to be formal or a writing collaboration. I simply mean that it is encouraging to have regular check-ins with a small group of writers, as few as two even, where you discuss what you’re each working on, maybe share a small piece/excerpt, get feedback and discuss ideas.

It is often the idea exchange, even with just a friend on the phone, that I find generative. I find myself articulating ideas and vision in a way that is as revealing to myself as to my friend. I leave those conversations with ideas of where to head next with a poem or on what to research to build foundational ideas for a concept.

What’s next? What upcoming plans and projects excite you?

I’m outlining a memoir—fingers crossed—and writing poems. I may birth an essay down the road, but that is gestating for now. And volunteering time and support to a program called La Maison Baldwin Manuscript Mentors, a nonprofit arts and culture association that remembers and celebrates James Baldwin in Saint-Paul de Vence, to save James Baldwin’s house and turn it into a vital residency in France.

How has the current political climate in the U.S. affected you as a woman writer?

I am not so much shocked as often startled. I think we all knew white supremacy, colonialism and toxic masculinity were at the helm, but the built-in invisibilities kept them shrouded in respectability politics and notions of civility, and of course, that begs the question: Whose civility? I also don’t think we are in some unique moment of history where shocking things have taken hold and the end is nigh, but that is how it feels at times. Power and paradigm shifts are often premised on tectonic shifts, and folks have to finally step up, choose sides.

That seems key at the moment: one can no longer pretend to be above the fray. And that may be most painful for those of us with privilege. No one is outside anything after all.

TAGGED:

INTERVIEW

MS. MUSE

POETRY

MS. MAGAZINE FEATURE - CLICK HERE - HTTPS://MSMAGAZINE.COM/2019/02/28/MS-MUSE-AMY-KING-POWER-STORIES-WEIGHT-CURRENT-POLITICAL-MOMENT/

#poetry #ms. magazine #interivew

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spnxmarvel-fanfic · 5 years

Text

Fairytale!Destiel AU : Chapter Seven

Supernatural or Marvel

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel (Destiel)

Warnings: talking about the sexualities

Words: 1695

Description: Some things become clearer for Dean

Important A/N: this is a very important chapter. not necessarily to the fic, but to everyone finding out who they are. please be aware that i have not and will not experience all the different sexualities and gender identities, and this is just my best interpretation of them. I have also talked with a few friends about how they feel as a *blank* to help, and their experience may be different to others. thank you and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

chapters one, two, three, four, five, six

ao3

“What?!” Dean jumped up from the log, a look of confusion on his face. “I thought you were gay!”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Well, when you put it that way…”

The two boys had been discussing an all-female band that had recently visited the kingdom, which Castiel had managed to sneak Dean a ticket too. Away from him, of course.

But Dean had mentioned how ’hot’ the lead singer was, and Castiel dreamily agreed.

“But, I thought I- if you’re straight then how do you-” Dean stumbled, taking a step back on instinct.

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Castiel patted the spot beside him again, asking him to sit down. He waited until Dean had hesitantly done so before talking.

“Less, gay, more Asexual Panromantic,” Castiel smiled sweetly. This was a big step for them really, because despite knowing about how much they loved each other, neither were exactly ready for any kind of relationship.

“I’m going to assume that you’re not gay either?” Castiel teased, wondering how much the hunter actually knew about his sexuality.

“Those are some mighty big words,” Dean laughed nervously. “Well, I’ve never called myself gay. I mean, I like girls. But then there’s you, Cas,”

Castiel took in a sharp breath.

“You could be Heteroflexible, or uh, Heterosexual Demiromantic? Or-”

“Whoah whoah whoah, I don’t understand any of that,” Dean recoiled slightly. He’d heard of Heterosexual, but the others?

“Bisexual” Castiel finished

“Bi- bi what?” Dean forgot about his past confusion. There was something about that word.

“If you’re bisexual, you like men and women. ‘Bi’, as in two” Castiel looked over at Dean’s face, sliding a bit closer to him.

“Oh,” Dean said quietly, trying to let it sink in. It has a name. “ So, that’s what you think I am?”

“Dean, no one can tell you what you are. Experiment with the names. Find what makes you feel comfortable. You don’t have to know now. You could even call yourself Queer, if you can’t find a comfortable label, or if you don’t want a label at all,” Castiel comforted Dean, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Dean took in a big gulp. “So is your dad uh, is he cool with all that? With your aces- uh, and pans?”

Chuckling, Castiel continued. “Oh yeah, he’s big on letting us be ourselves. To a degree, of course. Michael, who you’ve met, is actually genderfluid,” Castiel almost kept going, but he saw Dean’s confused face.

“Genderfluid is like… I can’t exactly do it justice explaining it, because I have never experienced it. It’s where someone sometimes feels comfortable in their body, being a girl for example, but other days they can’t stand their body, because that day they’re a boy. Then other days they might be both. Or neither,”

“That’s a thing?” Dean was struggling to get his father's words out of his head.

“Don’t be insensitive Dean.”

“I’m sorry, sorry,” Dean hung his head. Goddamn John and his-

“I’m sure it's okay, I guess this all new for you,” Castiel noticed his shame and quickly tried to fix his problem. And then he continued.

“Raphael, the third oldest, is transgender. He didn’t feel comfortable in the body he was born in, so he got some help from Chuck and my brothers to be a man. Chuck is bisexual as well actually,” Castiel added, nudging Dean.

“Bisexual,” Dean said, but his mind was far away. He was trying it out, seeing how it felt. “I’m- I’m Bi,”

“Like I said Dean, you don’t-”

“No!” Dean jumped up, from excitement this time. “No I mean- I mean it all makes sense now!” he turned to face Castiel, a look of pure joy across his face.

“Everything I’ve felt, all of these things and feelings that I’ve just dismissed, it all makes sense now. I- I can’t thank you enough, Cas,” Dean sat down again, sunbeams practically shining from his face, the happiest he’s been in years.

Looking at him with loving eyes, Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s hand, and his eyes widened in shock. Fearing that he was taking it too far, he went to take his hand away, but he found another hand on top of his. He looked up to see Dean giving Castiel the same look.

“Could you please explain what Asexual Panromantic means?” Dean shyly said in a small voice, earning another kind smile.

“Asexual means I don’t feel sexual attraction. I don’t want sex,” Castiel spoke a little nervously.

“What? No sex?” Dean tilted his head slightly, less accusing and more curious.

“Nope. I just don’t. If you wanted some, too bad,” Castiel forced a laugh out, trying to hide years of pain behind his eyes. Yes, he came from a supportive family. Doesn’t mean he understood it himself.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Dean looked Castiel in the eyes, as serious as he could get, earning a nod and smile from the prince. “Now, tell me. You’re romantically attracted to kitchen appliances?”

“No,” Castiel laughed, shaking his head. “No. It means I could be romantically in love with anyone. Any gender, binary or non-binary,” he explained after letting himself cool down from laughing.

“But isn’t that-”

“Bisexual? Well, technically. Just because you’re Bi doesn’t mean you can’t love non-binary people. Some people feel more comfortable with the Pansexual label, rather than Bisexual,” Castiel could see this going over Dean’s head, but the boy was trying. That counted for everything.

“And non-binary is…” Dean trailed off, hoping Castiel would take the hint.

“People who don’t feel comfortable as a guy or a girl. They might be neither, both, or something completely different. There are also many cultures that don’t have just two genders, but that's a story for another day,” Castiel explained quickly. It was getting late, and he was tired. The constant worrying that his father would find out about everything was really getting to him. But once Castiel was eighteen, he and Dean would run off together. They’d already talked about it and agreed. The small steps they’d taken meant to world to them, and they never wanted to let it go.

Castiel hadn’t even realised they’d been silent for a few minutes, staring off at a small gap in the trees, when a shooting star flew by. Turning to Dean, he expected him to still be looking at the sky so he could say ‘make a wish’, but the hunter was already smiling at him.

“Cas, can I please kiss you?” Dean asked, and Castiel’s whole world stopped spinning. His breath hitched. His heart skipped a beat.

Unable to find words, he nods and watched as Dean bites his lip, staring as Castiel’s. Dean cupped Castiel’s head with one hand and leaned in. As they made connection, their eyes closed on instinct.

And it was every bit of perfect Castiel had hoped for. Dean’s lips, oh, his lips were so soft, were gentle with Castiel, and he was melting. Melting into the kiss and into Dean’s arms.

Both soon needed to break for air, and they rested their foreheads against one another. Castiel was suddenly conscious about his constantly chapped lips. But ultimately, the kiss was at the front of his mind.

“That was…” Castiel started, but Dean finished for him.

“Awesome,” Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes with a smile.

He smiled back at the hunter. At his hunter. And then they kissed again.

Dean walked into his house with the biggest grin on his face. As expected, his mother was in her room, most likely sewing. Grandpa Sam was snoozing in his chair, and Sam was- Sam? What was Sam doing at home? Sitting at the bench! There’s no way he’s getting away with lying about the biggest smile on his face ever.

“Dean! I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Uh, hiya Sammy,” Dean had stopped in his tracks, holding an empty hunting bag, failing at his attempts to mask his smile.

“What's got you beaming like a mini sun?” Sam teased, getting up from the bench, where he had been reading his book. “Also, why are you so late?”

“I could ask you why you’re so early,” Dean dropped his bag on the ground and held his arms out for a hug. Dean held his little brother tight.

“Not unless you tell me who put that massive grin on your face!” Sam argued.

SIghing, Dean walked to the bench and leaned on it, and Sam followed so he was facing his brother. “Whose home right now? Dad is-”

“Dad’s out like always. Why-”

“What would you say, Sammy, if I told you I was in love?” Dean spat out, cutting his brother off.

“Why would I care Dean? Like sure, that’s great. But-” Sam was getting a bit sick of the cutting off.

“With a guy,” Dean finished, searching his brother’s eyes for a reaction. A response. Anything.

Sam furrowed his brow for the shortest second, before turning nonchalant again. “So? Again. Do I care?” he sighed, rolling his eyes and grabbing his book again.

“You don’t mind me being… you know, Bi?” Dean realised that he’d probably have to explain everything to Sam and-

“Again Dean, don’t care. I’m Bi too,” Sam answered, not looking up from his book as he took a spot on the couch. The older Winchester’s mouth went slack.

Due to the lack of comebacks, or any noise at all, Sam looked up to Dean and laughed. “Get over here! Are you going to tell me about this guy or not?”

Smiling as he regained muscle control to walk to Sam, Dean was trying to think of a way to explain the love of his life to his little brother, but it hit him.

Just start at the start, like all good fairy tales.

“Well…”

“Son, we need to talk,” Chuck said the minute Castiel stepped foot in the room. He had only just arrived back at his bedroom door when some of his father’s most trusted men came to escort him to the king’s chambers. A very rare event indeed.

Castiel gulped.

tags: @tardisheart134 @niteowlangel @asociopathandadoctor @waitwhyami @notfunnydean @leatherandapplepies @cross-roads-blues @astheryart @winchestered-since-1983 @sp0okyweek

Send me a message in my ask box or PM’s if you want to get tagged

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poeticallyunkind · 6 years

Text

The Art of Drowning (A Falsettos Oneshot)

Word Count: 4702

Pairing: Whizzer & Marvin

AU Details: Pirate!Marvin & Mermaid!Whizzer

Warnings: a few homophobic slurs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death (no major character death actually occurs), depictions of drowning

Author’s note: THIS TOOK FOREVER LMAO ENJOY

From the moment the amber liquid touches his lips, the captain knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been particularly skilled with keeping down his liquor on dry land, much less on a churning ship crowded with dozens of foul-stenched pirates. His mind is swamped with the wounds of both intoxication and nausea, enough so that he’s having some difficulty with thinking. Marvin’s crew surrounds the lower deck, laughing heartily as the accordion plays a merry tune. Beer sloshes messily upon the wooden floor. He frowns. If he’s honest, he doesn’t remember what they’re supposed to be celebrating. Perhaps they’d pillaged a fearsome ship in the early afternoon, and the celebration of their newly-found riches had extended well into the evening.

Despite the sense of warmth that surrounds the festivities, the last thing Marvin feels is joy. Instead, he’s nervous. And perhaps more than a little tipsy. He taps absentmindedly on the chipped table, trying to avoid the thoughts which continue to poke holes in his calm facade. Quite frankly, he’d rather be eaten by a shark than allow these odd feelings to persist. He doesn’t understand them, nor does he want to. He wishes he could live without them, without this strange desire for--

“Shit,” a voice mutters, shaking Marvin from his stupor.

His first mate appears at the table, spilling much of his beer as he sits in a creaking chair. His expression is a little hard to read; something between a scowl and a smirk. He eyes Marvin cautiously before speaking, as if assessing the mood of his superior. “You’re lookin’ pretty pissed off, captain.”

“I’m not,” Marvin shrugs, raising his empty mug. He ignores a fresh wave of nausea, focusing instead on the somewhat annoyed face of his friend.

His first mate scoffs. “Not sure if I believe that.”

“Seasickness,” Marvin mumbles, mentally slapping himself for the weak excuse. A seasick pirate? Still, he prefers the anticlimactic lie over the truth behind his mood. How does he tell someone that drinking has become a gateway to a series of feelings he’s never felt before? That when intoxicated, his most intimate thoughts wander not to his wife, but to his odd attraction towards men? How can he say that these thoughts have started to migrate into sobriety, too? How can he say these things, knowing damn well that nobody on this ship would listen to a word of it without feeling positively disgusted?

There’s a brief pause, and Marvin can tell that his shipmate doesn’t quite believe the lie. “In my six years on this ship, not once have I seen you get sick.”

“What, got something to say, John?” Marvin barks, daring the man to challenge his word. His tone must come off as offensive, because John’s expression suddenly hardens.

He sighs, handing the captain his mug. “Yeah, you need another drink.”

---

The night passes in a haze of liquor, salty air, and laughter. Surprisingly, the wave of nausea passes through Marvin without a struggle, and he’s managed to keep nearly every drop of alcohol in his system. His buzz is strong enough to send even the most hardened of drinkers into a state of incoherency. The music has gotten notably worse and the stench of sweat and booze has drifted well-beyond the deck, yet Marvin refuses to let it affect his mood. It’s such a sharp contrast to how uncouth he felt just hours ago, he’s unsure of whether or not time is passing properly-- it feels like it’s been years since he last felt low. He’s swaying comfortably in his chair, grinning from ear-to-ear as John recalls the time he pillaged eight ships in one week. Truthfully, Marvin’s mind is already occupied. The strange feelings continue to blur his thoughts, but… fuck it. For once in his life, he embraces them. Nothing could kill the unfiltered sense of freedom that fills his chest.

“—And the captain wept! Kinda funny, actually, how such a brave man crumpled over losing a pathetic ship,” John relays, emphasizing his words with a tone of mock sympathy. “I had to put a bullet through his skull to shut him up!”

Marvin laughs, leaning in to catch a better glimpse of his friend. His words tangle like fishing hooks as he speaks. “C-Christ, John! You’re… pretty fuckin’ r-ruthless…”

John smirks, which makes Marvin’s heart pound as if it’s a drum. “And yet somehow, I still ain’t the captain.”

“What’s that s’posed to m-mean?” Marvin shoots, slurring. Ordinarily, he feels nothing but respect for his first mate. Yet here he is, sitting beneath the moonlight, scarily aware of how spiteful John has been recently. It makes him rethink his choice of first mate.

“Oh, nothin’.” John’s expression reverts back to annoyance. “Anythin’ from your wife?”

Marvin grimances. “God, no. I’d rather d-die than write to Trina.”

Six months at sea, and he hasn’t thought of his family once. It’s not that he hates his wife, quite unlike the majority of his crew, but he supposes that a small part of him has always known that he doesn’t love Trina the way that most men would. He’d done everything right-- gave her everything she could possibly want, held her close, listened to what she had to say-- yet one thing was missing: passion. Simply put, he had no complex feelings for his wife. There was never a spark, never a source of passion in their marriage. Even when she’d given birth to Jason, the culmination of his pride and joy, he’d felt nothing.

Marvin sighs, sipping his beer. Even drunk, he knows that this is worthless. Perhaps if Trina were a man, his marriage wouldn’t be so affectionless, so devoid of emotion. All he wants is to love something, to feel his heart leap with joy at the very mention of someone’s name.

“I thought you two were doin’ well,” John hums, accusation in his eyes.

“Guess not,” Marvin laughs. He then pauses, thinking. His next sentence comes out as an airy stutter, but it might as well be a scream, based on the reaction it receives. “Honestly, she’s… not exactly what I want, if y’know what I mean.”

“I don’t. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

In his mind, execution bells start to ring. All at once, Marvin realizes three things about himself: he’s gay, he drank too much, and he’s fucked. He knows he shouldn’t say this, knows that he’s signing his own death certificate, but Marvin can’t stop himself from blurting out “She’s a woman, John.” He drops his mug, clamping a shaking hand to his lips.

For a few seconds, it’s as if the world falls still. John gapes at him. His eyes bore holes into Marvin’s, his expression brimming with disgust. Marvin can no longer hear the surrounding chatter; all that exists in this moment is the hatred in his first mate’s eyes and the quickened thrum of his own heartbeat. After a moment, John’s mood seems to change instantly. The same malicious smirk from the beginning of the night reappears.

John stands up, feigning shock. His shout echoes throughout the deck. “What’s that, captain? Did you just tell me you’re a faggot?”

The celebration comes to an instant halt. Every man stops, mug half-raised to his lips. Dozens of eyes fall upon him, and Marvin lets out a choked gasp. He stands up slowly, afraid that if he makes any sudden movements, he’ll have a sword in his throat in a matter of seconds. “T-that’s bullshit!” he stutters, trying to defend himself.

“Is that so?” John laughs, turning to face the crew. “Tell me, men. For a captain, would you rather have a sniveling queer who continues to lie to your faces, or an honest man who’s willing to rid the ship of such a nuisance?”

Marvin freezes. “Rid?”

John’s grotesque smirk widens. “Yes, rid. I, for one, say that we reclaim this vessel from it’s disgusting owner through force. I say that we make our dear captain walk the plank!”

To say that all hell breaks loose would be an understatement. As John makes his announcement, the atmosphere of the ship becomes pure, unfiltered rage towards Marvin. Several cheers fill the air. A legion of drunken, homophobic men, his crew-- is pitted against him in a matter of seconds. He feels a pair of arms yank him towards the railing, many other men trailing close behind. Marvin’s mind begins to shut down. He doesn’t think about his sexuality, or the contempt he feels for his wife. Instead, he’s momentarily bludgeoned with thoughts of betrayal. Sure, he’s always known John to be a bit jealous of his title, but to completely break his trust and do something like this? He never thought he’d see the day.

As he’s led to the spot where he’ll soon die, his mind reverts back to it’s typical, anxious self. It occurs to him that he’ll never see his family again. Though Marvin’s never been the particularly religious type, he silently mumbles a prayer, the words catching in his throat before they can reach his tongue. He hopes that Trina finds another husband, one that supports her in the ways that Marvin cannot. He hopes that Jason lives his life to the fullest. He hopes that neither will remember his bad qualities over his good, and that his memory will be carried through their love, not their stoic regrets.

“Move!” his first mate shouts, shoving Marvin haphazardly towards the plank. The thin wood buckles under his weight, as if threatening to end it all at any moment. Though he’s facing the ship’s interior, he can feel the waves churning wrathfully beneath it, and with every few seconds comes a new threat to keeping his balance. One wrong move, and he’ll fall into the ocean’s unforgiving embrace without so much as a final word. Marvin shudders, tears of anger filling his vision. He hates the lack of guilt that shines so evidently on his first mate’s face. He’s on his knees. A sword is soon pinned against his throat, lest he try to escape.

His crew leers at him, relentless laughter filling the deck. He closes his eyes, inhaling the salty breeze. Any ounce of respect they once held for their captain is gone, replaced suddenly with a bigoted haze. They care not for the cunning leadership he’s shown in the past, but rather which gender he finds himself drawn to. They spit in the name of equality, considering themselves above the likes of such lowly attraction. Even his first mate, the man he’d chosen to support the crew through thick and thin, approaches him with newly-found betrayal. By targeting their captain-- the one man aboard who isn’t enveloped by his own hatred-- they ultimately validate their own, meaningless lives. Marvin finds himself contemplating this as the sword digs uncomfortably into his neck, not quite drawing blood.

John can hardly contain his glee. “Any last words, faggot?”

Marvin opens his eyes, focusing on the man in front of him. His expression is nothing short of joyous, as if he simply can’t wait to murder the man who had trusted him most. Inexplicably, his heartbreak dissipates. Anger floods his veins. Marvin is overcome with such an overwhelming sense of spite, he knows exactly what he wants to say to his first mate.

Marvin shivers, exhaling the salty air he’s grown to love throughout past voyages for the last time. “Suck a dick, John.”

“Bad choice,” John sneers, throwing the sword behind him with a sad clang.

And with that, Marvin is pushed. The plank gives one final, depressing shake as his weight is removed, the sensation of falling soon coursing through his body. His hint of bravery dies as suddenly as it was spawned. If he were to say that his fall is graceful, that he laughs in the face of death as he resigns himself to fate, he would be lying. Mostly, his plummet consists of screaming. The air from his lungs is stolen as he crashes unceremoniously into the murky waves.

His vision quickly declines into a blurred streak as he fights for air. His limbs flail uselessly around him, desperately trying to grab hold of something that simply doesn’t exist. He’s sinking, sinking into the unknown legions of blue. His lungs seem to crush themselves; he can’t breathe. Black dots begin to invade his sight. His heart clamors in his chest as if to take a final bow, to remind him that he indeed once lived and breathed without the weight that’s crashing into his lungs. This goes on for what feels like decades, the ocean laughing airily at his struggle for breath. Eventually, his limbs tire and he’s unable to continue fighting. He falls eerily still, oxygen-deprived brain unable to process his actions. The pain that grips his throat lessens, and the last thing he sees before his vision goes blank is what appears to be a stunning flash of blue scales.

—

When Marvin drifts back into consciousness, he’s rather surprised to discover that he’s still alive. Broken, admittedly, but somehow breathing. A headache sweeps incessantly through his skull. His lungs inhale almost greedily, as if to make up for the oxygen he lost. He tries to assess what he’s capable of doing. His fingers curl without issue when he attempts to move them, and he’s able to let out a choked cough. There's a moment of difficulty that comes with opening his eyes, which feel like lead atop his already-throbbing features. Slowly, fragmented pieces of the world begin to blend together, and Marvin is made uncomfortably aware of his surroundings.

He’s on a beach, for starters. Based on the sky’s warm, citrus hue, he assumes that several hours have passed since his midnight drowning. He frowns. The ship was miles away from the nearest shore when he was pushed. How did he get here? More importantly, where the hell is ‘here’? Despite the startling thought, he continues to observe. The sand beneath him is cold; the rising sun hasn’t quite crossed the land. Other than the gentle lapping of waves, the water’s edge is eerily silent. He’s facing opposite of the waterfront, staring instead into what appears to be a forest. He watches a grove of palm trees, emerald leaves swaying in the early morning wind. Admittedly, the scene is gorgeous. If he weren’t so terrified, perhaps he’d be in awe. With a huff, Marvin steadily eases himself into a sitting position.

From behind him, a warm voice interrupts his movement. “Finally! I was starting to think that you wouldn’t wake up, sailor.”

The scream that escapes Marvin’s lips is admittedly priceless. The shrill sound echoes beyond the water’s edge, becoming jagged as he forces his aching body to face the voice. Immediately, his gaze his held by a man in the water, who smirks Marvin with a raised brow. His brown eyes light up with humor as he absentmindedly combs a set of tanned fingers through his hair. He waits for the pirate’s outburst to come to an end, but that moment doesn’t happen naturally. Eventually, he rolls his eyes.

“Are you done yet?”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Marvin shouts, tone nothing short of panicked as a multitude of thoughts race through his head. Why is there a hot stranger in the water? Where the hell is he? Why does he have an urge to touch his hair?

The stranger scoffs. “Well, if you could shut up for a few seconds, I’d probably tell you.”

Abruptly, Marvin stops screaming. He clenches his fists, fear still in his eyes. Once he’s standing, he shuffles several feet back from the shore.

“Thank you. Anyway, I’m Whizzer. Also known as the man who saved your ass from drowning,” the man states, making no attempt to move from his spot in the water.

“W-wait, what? That was you?”

Whizzer hums in confirmation. “Mhm. So, sailor, can I ask what were you doing in the middle of the ocean? Something tells me it wasn’t your choice.”

“As if I’d tell you,” Marvin exhales, looking Whizzer up and down. He has to admit, there’s something interesting about the man, and it’s not just how attractive he is. Despite his distrust, Marvin can’t help but yearn to know more about him.

He pouts mockingly. “Aw, what’s wrong with telling me?”

“I don’t even know you!”

“Actually, you kinda do,” Whizzer begins, a devious smile tracing his lips. “I told you my name. Which is more than I can say for you, speaking of which.”

Marvin groans. “Why do you care?”

“Shit, I wasn’t aware that first names were too intimate to share with others.”

Marvin hesitates. Sarcastic as he is, Whizzer has a point. Why does Marvin feel so terrified about the prospect of opening up? The man saved him, for Christ’s sake! After a moment of silence, his voice fills the empty air. “I’m Marvin.”

Whizzer laughs, which makes Marvin’s heart pound once more. “That’s a nice name, Marvin,” he says, genuine warmth in his tone.

Slightly flustered by the compliment, Marvin changes the topic. “Where am I?”

“A beach,” Whizzer deadpans, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fucking hilarious. Seriously, where the hell did you bring me?”

“Sorry that this shore doesn’t meet your standards, Mr. I-don’t-care-that-I-could’ve-died, but I was a little busy dragging you to dry land to take note of the exact location.”

“So what you’re saying,” Marvin hisses, “is that we’re lost?”

Whizzer shrugs, uncaring. “Better than being dead, sailor.”

A sound of contempt escapes Marvin’s throat. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re not the first person to say that, y’know,” Whizzer replies, splashing contently at an oncoming wave. It then occurs to Marvin that Whizzer hasn’t moved from the sea since this conversation started. It’s a bit odd, to say the least.

“You don’t have to stay in the water all day,” he huffs, noting the shocked expression that his words leave.

“I, uh-- I like it here,” Whizzer laughs nervously, speaking too quickly.

Marvin narrows his eyes. “Seriously, just come ashore.”

Whizzer’s tone is now notably panicked. “No, thank you.”

“Why not?”

Whizzer doesn’t reply, and Marvin’s curiosity begins to swell. Before the conversation turned towards the water, the man was the epitome of confidence. Now, he’s practically quivering. He continues to stare, silently pleading with Marvin. For a split second, he almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t want to break his trust, but his interest is at a maximum. He needs to know what’s stopping Whizzer. What if it’s something dangerous? With the thought of his new friend being harmed, any hesitance within him disappears, and Marvin starts to walk towards the shore.

Whizzer’s eyes widen, a petrified stare inhabiting his features. “Sailor, don’t--”

Before he can finish his sentence, Marvin’s feet touch the water. He raises an eyebrow towards Whizzer, who responds only with an anxious gulp. Without thinking, he extends an arm to the brown-eyed man. “C’mon, it’s not so hard. Just follow me out.”

Whizzer takes his hand, but still doesn’t move. The look on his face becomes notably sadder as his lips fall into a frown, soon followed by the darkening of his eyes. “I-I can’t.”

Ignoring the fact that his heartbeat pounds yet again at the feeling of Whizzer’s hand in his own, Marvin repeats his question from only minutes ago. “Why not?”

“You’ll be scared if I tell you,” Whizzer exhales, voice trailing off.

A knot begins to tug at Marvin’s stomach. “Whizzer, what the hell are you talking about? Obviously, I was pretty apprehensive at first, but from what you’ve said, you’re not anything to be afraid of!” he says, wanting desperately to know what’s plaguing his attractive stranger. “I know we just met, but you can trust me.” As the words leave his mouth, he realizes how much has changed throughout the course of this conversation. What started as a relatively annoyed exchange between the two has quickly become something else, something softer. It scares him, just how fast he’s started to trust a man he knows almost nothing about. Even more so, he hopes that Whizzer trusts him in return.

“People have run off in the past,” Whizzer counters, though his discomfort seems to be easing. He holds Marvin’s hand as if it’s his saving grace. “I-I don’t wanna freak you out, sailor.”

Marvin sighs. “I’m not those people! I swear wouldn’t run away. If there’s something wrong, I need to know now.”

“No, no,” his friend shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong, exactly, but… it can be a little surprising, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” Marvin queries, gently folding his other hand atop Whizzer’s palm.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Positive,” Marvin confirms.

Whizzer hesitantly takes back his hand, frowning as he gestures to the waves churning beneath him. “I don’t— please don’t get scared,” he pleads, eyes brimming with anxiety.

Marvin offers him a smile. “I swear that I won’t.”

There’s a shaky, somewhat collective inhale as Whizzer leans backwards, submerging his face in the sea. Before Marvin can question the strange action, he raises the lower half of his body. Words die in Marvin’s throat as he stares not at a pair of legs, but the most magnificent tail he’s ever seen. A kaleidoscope of purples and blues glisten in the haze of the morning sun, outshining the countless illustrations he’d seen in books as a child. He’s reminded of the fascination with fantasy he’d lost over the hardening years, and the thrill that clouds his thoughts is undeniable. A mermaid!

After a few moments, he watches the tail fall back into the waves. Whizzer’s face resurfaces. His expression is visibly flustered, though indeed no longer terrified. He gives Marvin an uneasy smile, which is immediately returned with a grin of his own.

“Whizzer, that was-- holy shit, I just...” Marvin starts, stumbling over his words as he tries to accurately convey how wonderful that was. His new friend is a mermaid. A mermaid saved him from drowning! He doesn’t know where to begin, how to express his intrigue.

The thought of leaving exits his mind completely.

Whizzer laughs, the stress in his shoulders disappearing. “Thank you, sailor.”

Fragmented sentences fire from Marvin’s mouth like bullets, excitement filling his tone. “You gotta-- well, it’d be great if you could-- would you please--”

“Slow down, Marv,” Whizzer says, playfully splashing the pirate with an oncoming wave. “You’re talking so fast, the speed of light is a little jealous.”

Blushing, Marvin takes a step back. His words become slower. “Yeah, sorry. Would you, uh, tell me what it’s like?”

There’s a brief pause before Whizzer speaks, though his voice is notably softer when he does so. “Absolutely, sailor.”

---

The unlikely pair talks for hours. The morning soon stretches into a muggy afternoon, and the afternoon gives way to a magnificent evening. Before they know it, the sky is filled with a legion of stars, pale moonlight drifting through the quiet beach. Marvin sits centimeters away from the waterfront, cross-legged and holding Whizzer’s hand in his own once more. Hours upon hours of conversation, he muses to himself, and he’s still enamored by the man in front of him, completely intrigued by everything he has to say. He’d like nothing more than to sit here for the rest of his days, exchanging stories and laughing with his new friend.

Based on the spark in his eyes, he assumes that Whizzer feels something similar. He tells Marvin everything he can think of, sharing stories about the underwater society that even Marvin’s most intricate fantasies couldn’t compare to. He talks of humans who’ve run away in fear after being saved from similar drownings, and how Marvin is the first to stay. There are mentions of domestic lifestyle, of coral homes with pleasant neighbors and kingdoms lined by seashell streets, all of which amaze the sailor to no end. Once Whizzer runs out of things to say, a comfortable silence comes and goes, which leads into a question that startles the pirate.

“Tell me,” he starts, tracing a finger over Marvin’s hand. “Do you like it up there?”

“Up where?”

Whizzer scoffs. “Above the water, sailor.”

Marvin falters, contemplating the existence that he’s lived thus far. He’s married a woman he doesn’t love, raised a son who resents him, made a dishonest living as a pirate, and found himself betrayed by his first mate after discovering a part of himself he hadn't known existed. Perhaps not the greatest life ever lived. “I guess not.”

He soon opens up about everything, from the way he trusted his first mate to how he felt nothing at his wedding, to which Whizzer gives his full attention. He doesn’t judge Marvin’s past or laugh at his mistakes, but instead listens to his tired stories with respect. He comforts, makes the sailor laugh whenever needed, and continues to hold his hand in a gesture of support. By the end of his rant, Marvin’s heart is beating so forcefully, he’s once again sure he’ll faint. It’s only the steadiness of Whizzer’s voice that manages to calm him.

“I grew up on fairytales where everyone is given an ending, where good triumphs over evil and ‘happily ever after’ is real, y’know? And I suppose a part of me always thought that it’d all work out that way in the real world, too. But it just… didn’t, and now I’m realizing how stupid those thoughts were,” he finishes his final thoughts, a sad smile on his lips.

Whizzer lowers his gaze. “Don’t say that, sailor. You deserve a happy ending, and you still have plenty of time to find one.”

Another sad laugh. “Let’s face it, I’m out of time. How do I find an ending when there’s nowhere else to look? Life on land brought me nowhere, and it’s not like I can start over.”

The mermaid inches closer, practically falling into the sailor’s lap. “It’s not nowhere. Life on land brought you here, Marvin.”

“And what’s so great about here?” Marvin scoffs.

Whizzer offers him another smile, a quick squeeze of his hand. “You don’t have to be alone anymore, sailor. You have me.”

His pulse races once more. “Whizzer, I don’t--”

“Listen, I know it seems hopeless, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“I can’t stay here forever, Whizzer! This island is abandoned, not to mention the fact that you can’t actually visit dry land,” Marvin argues.

Another spout of silence. “It wouldn’t be here, sailor.”

Marvin’s eyes widen as he begins to realize what the mermaid is implying. A life under the sea with a person he’s grown to care about, an escape from the cards he’d be dealt by fate. A chance to explore the kind of love he’d never had on land, to spend the rest of his days in happiness. A future that seems too good to be true. “Jesus, don’t make jokes like that.”

Whizzer holds Marvin’s face in his palms, tucking a stray strand of hair behind the pirate’s ear. His words come out as a gentle whisper. “I’m not kidding, Marv! Screw the surface, we can find a happy ending together.”

“I couldn’t survive underwater,” Marvin points out, voice trailing off as his heart thuds in his chest. He’s now nose-to-nose with Whizzer, his vision filled by the mermaid’s brown eyes.

He can’t imagine this new life. The thrill of waking up next to the epitome of love each morning is a fate he’s never so much as considered, much less indulged in. Despite his disbelief, however, he realizes just how badly he wants this. He craves the feeling of caring for someone, of living on a lover’s shoulder, of forgetting all the times he’s been wronged and focusing on what’s right in the world. And as far as he can tell, the only right he sees is an easygoing future with a certain mermaid.

A shallow breath. “Did your fairytales explain what happens when a mermaid kisses a human, sailor?”

“Show me,” Marvin says simply, breath hitching as his eyes close and their lips finally meet.

#falsettos #whizzer brown #whizzvin #whizzer x marvin #marvin x whizzer #in trousers #Broadway #musicals

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