fallingfantom
lets do it baby, i AM the law
i put the bi in bitter bitch // a blog as messy as my life
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the marketing for xo kitty being ridiculously heteronormative and then the show being extremely gay is so funny
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I want everybody who’s calling Ken a Trophy Husband to know that he’s actually a Trophy Boyfriend, because when Ruth Handler invented Ken in the 1960s, she was adamant that he would never marry her and instead be her “handsome steady”, so that Barbie remained a figure of independence for the little girls and was never put in the position of housewife.
Her house is hers. She bought it and furnished it with money she made in her own job. In STEM, in politics, in healthcare, in fashion, in academy, in customer service. Her credit card is in her name (women in the US couldn’t have their own regardless of marital status until 1974). And it’s all pink and fashionable because femininity and badassness aren’t mutually exclusive. No matter who you are, you can be anything.
That’s why Barbie’s slogan is “you can be anything”. Teaching these ideals to little girls is why Barbie was created. Empowering women and empowering femininity is the original meaning of the Barbie doll. It’s not that you have to be all this to be a woman, but if you are all or some of this, you too are awesome.
And somehow pop culture deliberately changed that narrative. Sexualised, bimbofied, and villainised her, when she actually isn’t responsible for the impossible beauty standards — people are, she’s just a stylised, not-to-scale toy like most others.
Men are frothing because he’s just Ken and I guess they were expecting her to be just Barbie, but that’s exactly what Ken is. Canonically. A badass woman’s himbo boyfriend.
This movie has the potential to change the way we collectively see Barbie radically into what Ruth Handler’s intended, I’m so very excited
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Bheem: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it.
Ram: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out.
Bheem: Th-that's not how that works-
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me: starts heartbreak high thinking its gonna be a random, aussie high-school show with stupid drama to play in the background
me, one epsiode in: completely obsessed with the characters and the show and the representation
me, at the end: the most relatable character to me is a fucking eshay
anyway, everyone say thank you heartbreak high
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BIG FUCKING RED
Y’ALL BIG RED JUST GOING “I’M ASHLYN’S BOYFRIEND AND I’M BI”????? FUCKING KILLED ME I LOVE HIM AND THEN EVERYONE’S REACTIONS???? AMAZING I CAN’T BELIEVE ASHLYN AND BIG RED ARE GONNA BE THAT BI POWER COUPLE I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THE QUEER REP WE’VE BEEN GETTING THIS SEASON
LOOK AT THEM GO THEY’RE SO AMAZING
#high school musical the musical the series#high school musical the series#big red#ashlyn#screaming#crying#throwing up
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y'all YES gina and ricky were CUTE but CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT JET AND MADDOX AND JET'S SOLO AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP??? THE CLIPS OF YOUNG THEM??? PLEASE????? I SO BADLY WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM AND I HOPE THEY GET TO A BETTER PLACE ASAP
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Reggie: Bisexuality is all about being dumb as fuck and dressing well. That's all that matters.
Alex: You just found out you're bi
Reggie: Don't be jealous that being gay doesn't entitle you to a great fashion sense
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ok first off i wanna start out with an apology bcuz i took this prompt for a walk and it came back lookin DIFFERENT. it’s not EXACTLY confessing at prom, but billy still crashes prom.
and dude tbh i don’t eve nknow where i went with this. it’s about 3.7k of me just rambling. a lot of nothin. steve’s barely even in it but it’s like all about him. basically billy writing an essay about how he loves steve and how that explains why he’s going to go across the country so he doesn’t have to look at him anymore. idiot !!
if there’s any formatting issues, i copied this straight from docs so that’s why. might be missing some italics in places so if things are delivered weird it might be that or just because of me writing this in a fugue state :^)
(hope u like it anon)
—-
Billy’s chest ached. The blood in between his ribs and skin pulsed like it was trying to kill him. His lungs burned from the two-thirds of a pack he’d chain smoked in a little over an hour. A swipe of his wrist under his nose told him it wasn’t bleeding anymore but it still stung to even touch it.
The quarry was quiet below him. Sometimes wind gusted up from the rock face but nothing was too cold this time of year, even in this shit hole of a town. The silence nagged at him. It made him want to scream. His voice was hoarse enough already from the cigs - and besides, if he started there was the chance he wasn’t going to stop. Not unless someone stopped him or his throat gave out or until he drowned from the wetness in his eyes. He sure as shit wasn’t about to cry over this. Not about to act like it’s never happened before.
But never again. He told himself that the moment he heard the front door slam behind his father, promised himself that. Once he was able to pick himself up off the floor, minutes or hours later, he drug all the shit he cared about out from their hiding places around his room. Collectively, it filled two bags. The rest - fuck it. His dad could sell it at a pawn shop for all he cared. Throw it in the dump, the quarry, shove it into storage. Fuck it.
So no, Billy wasn’t going to scream or cry. He was way passed shit like that.
He was going to drink instead.
Because fuck his dad. Fuck Neil Hargrove. Fuck this shitty little podunk town he dragged them to as a fucking punishment. Fuck Hawkins and fuck everything in it.
Except -
Shit, except.
Keep reading
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missing joe and dacre and the chaos that was created when they were together
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bring your arms around me (fast)
(t, 10.3k, complete)
‘Uh.’ Robin’s already smirking when he looks up, and Steve. Oh, he already hates this. ‘So I guess this is. For me?’
‘Yep,’ Robin says around her stupid smug smirk, ‘and I don’t wanna spoil that for you, pretty boy, but that right here? I’ll eat my hat if that’s a chick’s writing.’
or; Someone’s leaving mysterious notes. Billy Hargrove has a cold. Steve’s just trying to survive this winter.
read it on ao3
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Billy comes back different. He’s so obviously and profoundly different when he first comes back that it almost eclipses the real ways, the deep, aching, chasmic ways. His hair is short and shaggy and so, so curly and Steve had never thought that that was real, Billy’s curls. Never gave much thought to anything about Billy being real. He’s skinny, now, skinny and soft and white in a way Steve’s never seen, gold all leached out so the blue veins in his wrists and the pink scars on his arms stand vivid, unreal, vibrant. There’s no grin. Steve thinks about Billy’s face before, thinks about his white teeth red with blood, thinks about the lazy way he bared them. Like he was untouchable. Like he knew something the world didn’t, a secret. Even when Billy was furious he was grinning, electric, a little wild and so compelling Steve ended up caught in his orbit before he’d even noticed the tug of his gravity.
Billy smiles, sometimes, now. Rarely, and never loudly, and Steve keeps each one he catches close to his chest.
Steve didn’t live with Billy in the before, but he doesn’t imagine that he was the type to knock gently on a bedroom door and wait for permission before turning the knob. For instance. Imagines Billy was the type to knock twice, loud and careless, before barging in at two am without waiting for a response. If he bothered to knock at all.
‘Yeah?’
‘Sorry,’ Billy says first, even as the door is still creaking open, ‘I, uh.’
Billy didn’t apologize, before. Didn’t duck his head when he asked for things.
Didn’t ask for things.
‘What is it?’ Steve asks, tries to say it soft and easy like a breath. Billy spooks easy sometimes. Seems like it might be a night where the glue keeping the cracked pieces together is particularly fragile.
Billy stands in his doorway and wraps his arms tighter around himself and takes a shuddering breath that Steve can hear from his bed and doesn’t answer. Steve pushes himself up, scoots himself over, and turns down the corner of his comforter.
It’s been months, now, and Steve’s still not sure how deep the trenches go, what all there is to find in the unexplored places where no light reaches and the pressure is enough to crush bone. The Billy that knocks on his door sometimes at night isn’t the same Billy that kicked the shit out of him at Jonathan Byers’ house. Everything is different.
the rest on a03
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so since we’ve all collectively agreed that billy’s fav subject is english and that he’s, indisputably, a bookworm,, how about an au where he self-publishes a mlm novel under a pseudonym (because neil would literally butcher him if he found out)
and steve somehow comes across it (hears someone talk about it, finds it on a table when he’s at a café, idk) and he reads the blurb. takes the book. reads it in less than 3 days. discovers himself in it because whoever the author is, the dialogue isn’t as fictitious as the feelings they’ve implanted into every damn word. and there’s this. note at the end of the book. something about pride and love. about safety. something along the lines of ‘don’t step out the closet unless you’re ready’ and ‘you don’t owe anyone your safety’.
he doesn’t mean to fall in love with some, pseudonym. ‘W.L.H. Cypress’
but he does. sort of aches with the knowledge that he’ll never meet him. he traces words with his fingers. outlines the crown hanging on the first letter of every chapter.
because it’s the closest he’ll ever feel to him.
and it’s after his fight with billy at the byers’, when he’s helping the kids clean up the mess he and billy left behind that he finds billy’s jacket. finds wings engraved into the back of it. he scoffs like, ‘angel my ass,’. but there’s a W.L.H. etched above the wings, big and swirly, a crown hanging off the upstroke of the W. “what’s WLH?” he manages out, heart beating a hundred beats a second. he looks up at max.
“oh, just billy’s initials,” max rolls her eyes, waving her hand dismissively before she goes back to adjusting the pillows back into position. “william something hargrove.”
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you know what i want?
alex finding out his parents were completely shaken by his death and ended up becoming huge supporters and allies of the lgbtq+ community. his mom is one of those sweet ladies that offers ‘free mom hugs’ at parades.
alex watches her hug person after person, and this warmth floods through him. he can tell it’s just as meaningful for her. maybe more.
they’ve learned how to be corporeal, so one night he pops in to see his mom in the middle of the night when she’s sleepily walking back to bed. he convinces her she’s dreaming, and softly asks, “you think i can get one of those hugs, too?”
and she pulls him into the tightest hug. whispers all these apologies and tells him how proud she is of him and how desperately she misses him and alex squeezes her so tightly. hides his face in her neck and breathes her in and wishes desperately wishes they could have shared this moment years ago.
he helps her back to bed, stays there until she falls asleep at her request. he doesn’t visit his mom again after that, but every year at pride, he still watches her.
the hugs still clearly mean everything to her, but there’s a weight on her shoulders that’s lifted. alex feels lighter, too.
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so I'm reading your blog and i just got this thought and I need more people to think about this: Billy's friends from Cali visit and completely ruin his reputation. because okay, they're loud and kinda rude but ultimately? they're just bunch of dorks. and so is Billy
Billy’s friends show up and seem like a band of delinquents.
Turns out they’re ALSO super into dnd and all those stories Billy’s told Steve about breaking into places and getting in fights and stealing from people were almost all from different campaigns they’ve played.
Which is the hilarious story of how Steve found out he’s a bigger Bad Boy than Billy is.
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hi heres me projecting a sad thingy on steve. he secretly has a BIG thing for being called annoying, throughout his entire childhood his parents werent afraid of saying he was annoying or a bother, his friends growing up didnt hold back either, nancy said it too, even when she meant it in a cute way it still hurt. then the first time billy said it, except Billy was the only one who was able to catch the sudden switch, the switch from happy loud steve to quiet and dull.
“-and that’s when Tommy H. tried to pass the ball to George, but he wasn’t looking at it hit him in the head, and George started crying, and Tommy had to write him a note and now he can’t play outside during recess all week.” Steve was swinging his legs under the dinner table, sitting with his parents as they ate quietly.
He was recounting the daily second grade stories, pushing mushy vegetables around his plate.
His parents kept passing looks back and forth, looks Steve didn’t quite understand.
“And George doesn’t like Tommy, so I think that he-”
“Steven, I would like to enjoy my meal in peace, please.” His dad didn’t even look over at him.
“Uh, okay. Sorry, Dad.” He set his fork down, suddenly didn’t want to bother pretending eating his veggies. “May I be excused?” It was easier to simply retreat, go play in his room for the rest of the night.
Steve doesn’t like the way his dad looks at him sometimes.
It makes him feel bad inside. His dad simply waved a hand.
Steve took his plate into the kitchen, carefully placing it on the counter.
“He’s such a bother sometimes. Going on about the other children like it matters.”
“Richard, he’s a child.”
“And I don’t want him to grow into an adult that thinks it’s okay to annoy me people to death.”
Steve didn’t know what annoy means.
He asks his teacher the next day.
“To annoy someone means to irritate them. To bother them and make them angry.”
So, he irritated his father. He bothered him to the point where he was angry.
Steve didn’t speak the next night.
Or the next.
-
“Tommy, come on.”
Steve was not above whining.
“I wanna try it.”
Tommy had snuck a beer out of his dad’s stash in the fridge in the garage.
Tommy and Carol had each tried a sip, grimacing at the taste.
“I don’t thin you’re ready for it, Stevie. Still acting like a baby.”
They were fourteen, going into high school at the end of summer.
“Man, I am not. Just let me try it. I gotta get used tot he taste before we start going to parties.”
“No one’s gonna invite you to parties if you’re this annoying.”
The words stung, but Tommy passed him the beer while he said them, grinning lazily.
The beer tasted like shit.
Steve couldn’t discern it from the sour taste in his mouth that word left.
Annoying.
-
“Nancy,” Steve sang.
He was laying on her bed, his head flopped over the side, looking at her upside down. “Nancy.”
“Steve, I’ve gotta finish this.”
“Nancy, that essay’s due in like, a week.”
“I’ve got to finish this draft. Mrs. Lorraine said she’d read over it tomorrow and give me any pointers.” Steve rolled his eyes.
“You don’t need any pointers. You know she’s just gonna tell you it’s perfect.”
She was quiet.
“C’mon, Nance. Just lay with me for a little while. It’s been such a shitty week. Did I tell you my parents came home?”
“Yes. A few times.”
“I just always ask them to call first. If’ they called before going to the airport, I’d have like, a day or so, or at least a few hours before they get here depending on where they are. But they never do and they get on me about the house being a mess when it’s not, I’ve just left like, a pair of shoes out or something and-”
“Steve, I have to finish this. God, you can be so annoying sometimes.”
The words hit Steve like ice.
He sat up quickly, tugging on his shoes from next to the bed, yanking his sweater back on.
“I’m just gonna go then. Annoy my parents at home.” She didn’t say anything.
He rolled his eyes.
-
“Bill, where are you goin’?”
Billy was trying to get himself out of bed, gonna go make them both some coffee.
“I need some fuckin’ caffeine. Don’t know if you realized this, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Steve stretched lazily, finally letting Billy slid out from under the covers and pull on a pair of shorts from the floor.
He was smiling lazily, looked so perfect in the soft light of morning.
“Bring me a cup?”
“Yeah, Baby.”
“With a little bit of cream, and two scoops of sugar and-”
“I know how you take it, Pretty Boy.”
“And would you do some toast, too? I’ve got the good jam in the fridge, that fresh raspberry stuff from the old couple down the street. Will you do sourdough? It’s in he pantry, not the breadbox, and just a little bit of that Amish butter and then a layer of jam-” Billy flopped onto the bed, letting his weight press into Steve.
“I got an idea. You could come make yourself your high maintenance toast before I get annoyed to death.”
Billy meant it cute.
As cute as he can mean things while still making fun of Steve.
His idea was to get Steve in the kitchen with him. They could turn on the little radio down there and make breakfast together. It would be nice.
But it was alarming.
He was watching Steve’s face as he said it, and the second he let slip annoyed to death, Steve’s eyes went blank.
He stopped talking, smiling benignly up at Billy.
“What’s up?” Steve just shook his head. “No, something’s wrong, I can tell.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
Steve’s words were clipped.
“You’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong? What’d I do?”
“You didn’t do anything. I just-” he sighed. “I know I can be annoying sometimes. I’m working on it.”
“Why?”
“Because, because,” Steve wasn’t looking at him, “because it sucks, being around someone that just makes you mad because they won’t shut up.”
“Baby, you never make me mad. I’m sorry I said that, it was a joke. I don’t actually think you’re annoying. I just, I thought maybe we could make breakfast together.” His cheeks were hot, admitting that to Steve.
Billy doesn’t think it’ll matter how long they’re together, he’ll always get flustered admitting his feelings, or even getting close to doing so.
“No, Billy. It’s fine. I’ll try to keep it in mind. When to shut my mouth.”
“Steve, I fucking never want you to shut your mouth. I want you to talk to me forever and ever. I wanna hear about your fucking toast every single morning. I wanna hear about your day every night, and I wanna hear what pisses you off, and what makes you sad, and what makes you happy. Never stop talking to me, okay? Just love hearing your voice.”
“I, alright.” Steve’s eyes were bright again, but he still looked unsure.
“Come downstairs. Tell me about the fuckin’ Amish butter and why in the hell you have it.”
“It’s hand churned.”
“Yeah? Why’s that make it special?”
Steve appraised Billy.
He tried to keep his face open, tried to make sure Steve knew he wanted to know.
“It just makes it taste better. I think it’s because they use really fresh butter milk. I get it at the farmer’s market and the woman that sells it says they have a farm. They have goat cheese, too, and I’ve always wanted to try it because they have ones made with different herbs, and they all look so good.”
Billy was still on top of Steve, watching him intently as he spoke.
It made Steve warm. Washed out that sour feeling in his throat.
Because Billy wanted to hear him.
And Steve doesn’t know anybody that’s ever wanted that.
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going on testosterone is so exciting im so glad to finally go through my himboification
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i know jatp is a happy show, but listen: if the boys were 17 in 1995, that means they were born in 1978. which means they lived through the aids epidemic and reagan presidency (and, actually, deaths from aids peaked in 1995, so this was actively happening while they were teenagers as well). it means that alex had to grow up steeped in hatred, it means he had to grow up terrified. the fact that luke and reggie know he's gay when the show starts - it's absolutely mindblowing to me, considering all that. is it any wonder he's so anxious all the time?
but see, the thing is: alex grew up in a world that hated him. that saw him as dirty and diseased and sinful. and he grew up to be emotional and loving, to be gentle and kind and always smiling, and soft and sweet and incredible. alex grew up being taught to hate himself but doesn't, and is nothing but a bright, bright light to those around him, and i just think that's beautiful.
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