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bettsfic · 4 years

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do you know anything about like, the development of the purity rhetoric that now seems to be ubiquitous in fandom and how it got there? i used to be on tumblr in like, 2014 and only recently came back to fandom and i remember everyone being generally kind of cool with things like incest ships and morally grey characters (speaking specifically re the frozen fandom and elsa/anna here lmao) whereas now it seems like the conversation about those things has drastically shifted and i am..puzzled by it

this is what i imagine that experience was like for you:

according to fanlore, purity culture started in the homestuck fandom which. based on what i know of homestuck, that tracks. however i’ve never been in homestuck so i’m not sure what that transformation was like. all i know is my personal experience with the disk horse. afaik there’s no cohesive timeline of events across fandom, and i lack the time and resources to be able to make one myself. if anyone knows of one, or wants to make one, please let me know.

i do know that purity culture is a movement started by very young teenagers, who were maybe 13-15 in 2014 and are now 18-20. they were 8-10 when ao3 was founded, and therefore seem to have a limited knowledge of fan history, censorship, and critical thinking. i’m hoping that since they’re now entering college, they’ll get some insight and broader social awareness, and this movement will finally die out in the next few years.

on any other platform, at any other time, their toxic rhetoric would not have gained traction. but here and now, on tunglr dot com where anyone can gain a platform, where mob mentality thrives and inciting an anonymous dogpile is as easy as hitting Post, where the brokenness of this place makes it difficult to control the content you’re exposed to -- it’s the perfect storm. we live in an age of hopelessness. young people grow up with social media as an extension of their identities, tethered to devices that hold all the information in the world. i think it’s fair for them to be afraid of their futures, and i can understand the desire to control the online spaces where they have the most agency, where their voices are the loudest.

that may explain why, but not how. as in, where did they pick up this mentality at all? @freedom-of-fanfic (whose work is a necessity in understanding the disk horse) connected anti-shipping to TERF rhetoric. i’ve linked the fanlore page because it has all of the links and some of the responses. i honestly do believe that the language surrounding purity culture has its ugly roots in TERFdom. at its core, purity culture -- the policing of female and queer sexuality -- is misogyny.

when i started writing destiel circa 2014, fandom was as you described. wincest was a juggernaut on par with destiel. teen wolf was full of underage and noncon. a/b/o was on the rise. it seemed like fandom was a genre without restraint -- anything you wrote, if it found the right audience, would be celebrated unabashedly. people who have been following me for a long time know that i was addicted to adderall at the time and pounding out all sorts of manic nonsense. i remember living on the validation of comments (and at the time, there were lots of comments. not so much anymore, but that’s another story). i got critical comments only rarely, and they were the type that i admired -- readers without judgment thinking through the story, reacting to it earnestly. i made some of my best friends because they left long, critical comments on my work. sometimes they didn’t like it, sometimes they did, but ultimately, they were engaged, and that’s what counted.

i remember my first policing-type comment, i think at the start of all the purity nonsense. it was a destiel fic, and someone very angrily told me i should tag my bottom!cas because it was triggering. i’ve thought about that comment a lot over the years. top/bottom discourse is nothing new, but to say that bottom castiel is triggering? that was ridiculous. but then i realized -- there was a writer in fandom at the time i won’t name, who was known for being extremely sensitive (for bottom!cas especially, which they found triggering), and their very dedicated following offered fic that was safe for their fave to read. i have nothing against this person at all. they were not part of the purity discourse, they were up front about their sensitive nature, and as far as i knew (i believe i met them at a con once?) they were very kind.

but that commenter had been clearly influenced by this person and believed that a specific fictional character receiving anal sex from another specific fictional character was actual, real triggering content, and it was my obligation as a writer to tag for it. which i did, because i felt bad, and i was baffled by that request. at the time, i wanted more than anything to be liked, and conformed wherever i could. if i got such a request now, i would ignore it because it was rudely written and honestly kind of bonkers. i’d happily add a tag for something i may have missed, or even something i’d never considered before, but there’s no reason a person can’t make that request politely.

this situation isn’t about purity discourse proper (the commenter didn’t tell me not to write the fic, and it had nothing to do with morality), but it’s the earliest example i can think of where the process of policing had occurred: a person of influence on tumblr affected their follower’s thinking, and that follower felt entitled to command another writer to conform to that ideology.

i could be completely wrong about making these connections. maybe that commenter truly believed bottom!cas was a legitimate widespread trauma. they did not say the fic was triggering to them, but that it might be to some other people, in the same way purity police say “think of the CHILDREN” when in fact they don’t give a fuck about children at all.

after destiel i moved to stucky, which was, at the time, a juggernaut ship where anyone could write anything. this was also the time when the term “cinnamon roll” became incredibly popular, circa 2015. it was a fun and seemingly innocuous meme, but it positioned the ideas of “purity” and “wholesomeness” in sharp relief, and cemented these ideas by beginning to give it a distinct vocabulary. “trash” was pitched as its opposite. stucky is where i first came into contact with “antis.” in destiel, there had been ship wars, sure, but it was of a different flavor than antis. destiel vs wincest wasn’t about morality in 2014. it was about everything but.

in stucky in 2015, however, the disk horse was running rampant. the MCU had a sub-section of fandom called HTP (hydra trash party) in which steve and/or bucky have dubious or nonconsensual relations with various or many members of hydra. this is the first time i remember being aware of morality becoming a cornerstone of shipping. HTP was loathed by purity police. by the time i wrote a stucky bdsm au, i’d accumulated multiple nasty anons, rude comments from entitled readers, and other nonsense that all said the same thing: your filth is not welcome here in our space of purity. go away.

but the release of the force awakens is what really turned the tide. TFA offered three major ships: stormpilot (as it was called at the time, now finnpoe), reylo, and kylux. the fandom that developed around the sequels was firmly divided. franzeska wrote an amazing meta about this phenomenon which gives some insight into the seeds of purity policing. in short, stormpilot should have been the primary pairing of the sequels, but instead many of the badwrong writers from other fandoms (and HTP specifically, which was how i entered the fandom) flocked to the blank slate of kylux.

it took a long time for the ship to gain traction. a friend told me that kylux had started with angry star wars racists who hated that there was diversity in the sequel trilogy. and i told them no, i was there, there were twelve of us and a cornchip, and all we cared about was the dirty/darkly comedic potential of these two ridiculous villain characters in one of the biggest franchises of all time. it wasn’t that complicated. i don’t mean to dismiss the discussion of race in fandom; i think it’s important to acknowledge that racism, as franzeska describes far better than i can, plays a huge part in fandom, particularly in star wars, and it’s an important and ongoing discussion to be having, especially given what kelly marie tran has gone through, and how it affected (presumably) rose tico’s extremely limited presence in TROS.

the early fics of kylux weren’t particularly taboo. they were post-TFA hurt/comfort mostly, then slowly the bdsm and power dynamics crept in. those of us who wanted to get away from purity discourse had finally found a new home. for a while. 2016 was the golden era of kylux. we were all very happy.

i remember talking to a friend about how there were certain things i couldn’t write in certain ships. being from ye olden days of fandom, she was appalled by this idea, and told me i could write anything for any ship i wanted, wasn’t that was the whole point of transformative works? and i agreed! but i tried to explain, if you post badwrong for a fandom of purity police, you’re going to, at best, get dogpiled in your comments/inbox. at worse they will find you, call your employer, and try to ruin your life. people will tell you to kill yourself. they’ll report your tumblr and try to get your blog shut down. there are real-life, harrowing consequences to writing taboo fic, and many who write fic as a hobby don’t have the emotional energy to field these risks.

around this time, discord became popular, which offered a private space for badwrong writers to congregate. i had started grad school and didn’t have much time to write fic. metoo was happening. tromp got elected. kylux was slowly turning mainstream so a lot of us turned our attention to gradence in fantastic beasts. some went on to hannibal and other fandoms that hadn’t yet caught the attention of purity police (but it was, as it is now, just a matter of time). kylux, i feel, was specifically decimated by a single fan creator, who was like a police chief. they would get wind of someone writing underage or noncon and write a call-out post about them, and that writer/artist would get pitchforked. a few times, my comments or posts got screencapped, and posts were written urging people to stop reading my works because of how heinously immoral i was. this happened to several of my friends too.

the great tumblr tittyban of 2017 happened, which only added fuel to the fire and further legitimized the purity movement. i shifted hesitantly to the 100 fandom, which seemed small in comparison to supernatural, marvel, and star wars. i thought it was a chill place. i was wrong; it was just as toxic as other fandoms. but i also didn’t care anymore, and i appreciated that i was mostly left alone. more importantly, i found a lot of support from other people who were as tired of the purity as i was, and @the100kinkmeme was reborn.

the state of things is pretty abysmal. there are some really amazing writers out there writing under multiple sock accounts, keeping their fandom identities shattered so as not to call attention to themselves. as much as i understand why writers do that, and i respect that decision, i also think it’s sad. it deprives readers the chance to read that author’s other works. it limits the sense of community and our ability to make friends. it fractures the future of the genre.

what’s most important to acknowledge is that none of this is happening solely in fandom. i went to a writers’ conference where 2 of 3 panels were about the history of moral policing and censorship in art. it is worth noting that of the 40-ish visiting writers on faculty, only one (1) was a woman of color (jaimaica kincaid). naturally, older rich white people who have spent their life in the arts are all about death of the author, separation of art and artist. they’re on the total opposite side of purity police, and they won’t acknowledge at all that racism and sexism are a problem in the creative world. they don’t have any nuance on the discussion, or modern perspectives in light of metoo or popular culture.

this went on longer than i anticipated. i neglected to mention YFIP (your fave is problematic) an old blog that started the idea of call-out culture by pulling receipts on celebrities, and how call-out culture led to cancel culture, which also aided in the purity disk horse. i think a lot can be said about how some of this stuff is genuinely good (metoo and holding men accountable for their bullshit) while also being profoundly toxic (punishing criminals via mob mentality, ruining their careers and livelihoods through social media, rather than giving them their due process in court. i understand it -- the judicial system is built by the hands of the very predators we seek to condemn, but still. the jury of the internet is never a fair trial).

if you want to read more, my tag is tsatp (the sacred and the profane). i’m sure i’ve left out a lot, but i can only speak to my experience. i think it would be good if people would share their experience dealing with purity policing, too, so we might get a cohesive timeline in place. feel free to reblog and add your story.

#tsatp #my fic #Anonymous

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charlietaggedart · 7 years

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#art #artists on tumblr #female artists #watercolor #sketchbook #credence barebone #fantastic beasts and where to find them #ezra miller #fanart #gradence #gravebone #design #illustration #illustrator

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msfbgraves · 2 years

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I think there's a difference between the female gaze when it comes to shipping m/m and the queer gaze, at least with me.

Shipping two men who have chemistry is really hot - if I subconsciously think I'd have a chance with those men too, at least hypothetically. Not in a rl stalkerish way. In an author insert way.

Doesn't even have to be both. But at least one of them has to read as bi.

So yeah, Interview with a Vampire is hot to me. Louis would eat me, and so would Lestat.

Good Omens is merely cute. Aziraphale would very firmly tell me that 'I have the wrong shop'.

And the whole premise of Our Flag Means Death, or Queer as Folk, doesn't interest me that much. It's a mere academic curiosity. It may have a lot of artistic merit! But so may a lot of other shows. Watch men get it on who'd see me as a buddy? See all kinds of gay culture jokes that fly past me? If not for clout or on very high recommendation? Naw. Not on a self indulgent rainy afternoon.

But Gradence? Sure, Colin Farrell would sleep with a woman. (Colin Farrell would sleep with anyone who takes his fancy, gender or no gender). Ezra Miller could be persuaded to sleep with a woman, too. I mean that's the least of their problems right now, but hypothetically.

Timothée Chalamet would sleep with some women, sure (and many men), and Armie Hammer would sleep with many women and some men.

Ralph Macchio has been married forever but all Daniel LaRusso's 'rivals' are men that would sleep with women. Billy, Yuji, Thomas - all married. Do they look like they would sleep with Ralph, if everyone would find themselves single? Yes. Would Ralph? I'm half convinced that he's sleeping with Billy Zabka now, at least in the privacy of his dreams.

Which is not to say that gay pirate shows aren't important! They are! But here on Tumblr, so often, shows are recommended on my dash like: "We have to watch this! It's so gay!" and then I feel like an alien. You could as well be raving about cricket.

And man I know that's how queer people all the time so besties, I hope you're winning, I might check it out!

But whatever I am, if not totally straight, I just don't think I'm gay. A lot of it doesn't seem for me, even if I do ship m/m.

#personal

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lovelyonism · 6 years

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Get To Know Me Better

tagged by the wonderful @soz

Name: Bella

Gender: female, but longing to escape the confines of this corporal vessel

Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5′4″

What image do you have as wallpaper? Gradence fanart

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? no, most of my teachers were much older and I went to private school too so... yeah

Where do you see yourself in ten years? I don’t even know where i see myself a week from now

If you could be anywhere else right now, where? I long to return to Sweden, but more realistically my bed

What was your coolest Halloween costume? i was Madeline, age 6

What’s your favourite 90′s show? um I guess like ‘adult’ television would be friends? For cartoons my brother and I were pretty avid about DBZ

Last kiss: hahahaha

Have you ever been stood up? one would have to put themselves out there for this to happen in the first place

Have you ever been to Las Vegas? never

Favourite pair of shoes: I suppose my slip on sneakers, their pretty comfy

Favourite fruit: apples, the golden kind

Favourite book: I love too many books but most recently I just reread Vicious by VE Schwab so any book by them is recommended. I always go back to Janes Austen though

Stupidest thing you’ve ever done: Believing that things were gonna change and having that come right smack around to bite me in the ass later. Or when i thought I could squeeze past a semi in a parking lot to get gas and ended up bumping against their big ass wheel which created a dent in my car that I lied about when my mom finally noticed 3 months later who still doesn’t know it was my fault

I’m tagging:

@floralpearl

@kayurka

@allisonthe13th

#personal #me

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clutchhedonist · 7 years

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37 Gradence? I am so curious to see a female graves but anyone you want to write about is all good

37. gender swap

—

Stark white uppers, contrasted by a well-shined black toe. Prim white laces, unblemished and always evenly tied. A Spanish heel, the height of which never seems to slow the cadence of her even, purposeful gait.

Credence knows every detail, every inch of the Oxfords. He’s polished them more times than he can count, has made certain that their accommodations in Graves’s closet are always level, always clean. And now, with the side of one slender heel tracing over his cheekbone as he presses his lips to the toe of the other, Credence shudders in anticipation.

“My, my.” Graves purrs above him, “What a good boy you are.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Credence whispers as he presses his cheek to her ankle. He feels the point of the opposite heel come to rest against his shoulder, quivers and clamps his lips around a groan as it begins to dig into the skin, “Thank you, ma’am.”

#gravebone #gradence #gender swap #clutchfic #percival graves #credence barebone #fantastic beasts #fbawtft

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fuckboygraves · 7 years

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Gradence fics drinking game

Take a shot if… - the age difference or underage tag is present - female bff/quirky subordinate Tina - “Mr. Graves” - Graves takes a drink of whiskey/ bourbon/ or any other manly hot dude drink - Graves is just… so damn conflicted about sleeping with Credence but he does it anyway -"oh you no majs are still doing that whole homophobia thing? How quaint." -based on a Halsey song -Baby boy -lubrication spell

Finish your drink …. - Daddy kink - “dead dove: do not eat”/“don’t like don’t read” - lots of shaking and whimpering from credence cause he's a Virgin™ y'all -Newt is barely mentioned or not in the story at all

#feel free to add more #percival graves #credence barebone #fbawtft #fantastic beasts and where to find them #sorry I've been dead for weeks y'all it was the depression™

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jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s · 7 years

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so I know your have the beautiful stripper au happening but how do you feel about.....a gradence black swan-inspired ballet au?

I was all like “how could this work when Black Swan/Swan Lake are so very specifically about female anxieties” and then @martythegirl played me with some shit about masculinity anxieties.

Warnings: This is (as Black Swan is) skeezy. It’s not romantic, it’s definitely sexual harassment.

“Barebone, please stay after.”

It’s just words, but from Mr. Graves’ mouth just words is enough to make Credence stumble and his throat close up.

“And try not to fall over,” the choreographer adds.

After everyone else has left the studio, Credence lingers near the door and waits for Mr. Graves to finish whatever it is he’s doing. As the man walks, he swings the long, narrow pole he uses to point out everything a dancer is doing wrong. It’s a shiny dark wood — nothing like the bright, pine one that Credence’s mother used.

“Are you unhappy with the casting decisions, Barebone?”

Credence shifts his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet and back, swaying a bit forward and backward.

“No, sir,” he says.

“Really?” Mr. Graves’ eyebrows go up. “Because I had a very illuminating conversation this morning with Madame Picquery. Apparently your mother’s asking why you didn’t even get the understudy for Siegfried.”

Mary Lou could have been a prima ballerina if she hadn’t had Credence — a fact which she repeats to all three of her children as often as possible. Chastity smartly headed to San Francisco to continue dancing, able to please Ma from a great distance. Credence stayed in New York.

“How old are you, Barebone?”

Credence looks at the back wall and the barre rather than at Mr. Graves. “Twenty.”

“Don’t you think you’re a little bit too old to be having your mother handling your affairs?” Mr. Graves asks him.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

He holds his arms stiff at his sides, his hands closed into fists.

“It’s not exactly princely behavior,” Mr. Graves says. “And yet, apparently, you want the part of Siegfried.”

“I don’t, sir,” Credence says. His mother, however.

“Is that so?” Mr. Graves says. “Tell me, Barebone, do you think you deserve a better part?”

He glances at Mr. Graves, then looks back at the wall.

“No, sir,” he lies.

“Really?” Mr. Graves asks.

The man walks a circle around him and stops on his left. “You’re not a bad dancer, Barebone, but you’re a terrible liar.”

His face has started to get hot and he feels angry tears pricking at his lower eyelids. He doesn’t dare blink.

“Tell me again, do you think you deserve a better part?”

Credence digs his blunt fingernails into his palms. “Yes.”

“Good,” Mr. Graves says. “Thank you.”

Mr. Graves steps in front of him, so close that Credence can’t look away from him unless he drops his chin. Of course, he does.

“Now I’m going to tell you why you didn’t get one,” he says. “Technically, you’re nearly flawless, Barebone. But when I see you dance, when Madame Picquery sees you dance, it looks like you hate it. Do you hate it?”

“No, sir,” Credence says. “I don’t hate it.”

“Well, it doesn’t show,” Mr. Graves says.

He sniffs and rolls his shoulders, all of which Credence can see. The man steps back from Credence and shifts his grip on his magic wand, as he calls the yard-long pole.

He aims the silver handle of it at the hem of Credence’s shirt, which falls right at his hips, and tucks it under the fabric. Credence shivers, despite himself, as Mr. Graves pushes his shirt up his stomach, then up past his ribs, then all the way to his throat until his chest is bare.

Mr. Graves leans to one side and appraises Credence’s skin like he’s looking at bodega produce, trying to determine if it’s rotten before he touches it. The metal handle against his skin is warm from being held in Mr. Graves’ hand. Credence shivers at the thought of being touched.

“You certainly have the body,” Mr. Graves says. “And the skill. It’s really just a matter of your personality, I suppose.”

Credence hates Mr. Graves nearly as much as he hates his mother, if he’s honest. But he’s not usually very honest.

Mr. Graves pulls the stick away and Credence’s shirt falls back down over his body. He breathes out a sigh through his nose.

“Siegfried is a very demanding role, Barebone,” Mr. Graves says. “He dances in every act. He’s young, he’s bright, he’s in love. What do you know about love?”

Credence continues to breathe through his nose.

“I asked you a question,” Mr. Graves says.

“I don’t,” Credence says. “Know anything, Mr. Graves.”

This makes the choreographer laugh at him and, yes, actually, Credence is certain he hates the man.

“Are you interested in women?” Mr. Graves asks.

“Yes, sir,” Credence lies, now worried that Mr. Graves can actually tell that he’s lying. But not too worried. He is so practiced at this lie: used to telling others how ballet lets him be around women all the time, seeing them in tights and leotards.

“Well then, imagine you meet the most beautiful woman and she loves you,” Mr. Graves says. “She leaves and you think you’ve lost your chance, but then you see her again and — immediately — you want to swear yourself to her, pledge your life forever, you’d do anything. Can you imagine that?”

“I don’t think so,” Credence says.

“Try,” Mr. Graves says.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

“Now, having pledged yourself forever to this woman, you learn that she is not who you thought. She is only a woman who looks like the one you love, but inside she is dark and terrible. Can you imagine that?”

Credence’s chest rises and falls. “I suppose.”

“How would you feel?” Mr. Graves asks him. “If that happened to you?”

“Angry,” Credence says. “Betrayed. Crushed.”

“Crushed?” Mr. Graves repeats. “Oh, I like that one: crushed. That’s good, Barebone.”

He walks another circle around Credence and when he faces him again the pole is no longer in his hands.

“You’re a very attentive student,” Mr. Graves says. “Do you know the part of Odile in the third act, when Siegfried pledges his love to her in error? Do you know the steps?”

Credence flushes. “I think so.”

“Good,” Mr. Graves says. “Stay here.”

He crosses the room to the stereo cabinet. Credence recognizes the music instantly.

“I think the best way to show you what you’re missing, Barebone, is to demonstrate,” he says. “Maybe we’ll make a prince of you yet, but for the moment, I’ll be Siegfried and you’ll be…”

He waves his hand.

“Who will you be, Barebone?” Mr. Graves asks.

Credence swallows. “Odile.”

The truth is that he does know the steps, mostly. He’s practiced them. Tina is his friend and she has split the part with her sister. They make a perfect pair, really. He knows the part down to his bones. His feet bend until they’re numb; his arms moving smoothly in the air.

And Mr. Graves dances. Credence watches himself in the mirror, keep his eyes ahead. But he can see that Mr. Graves watches him instead, looks at him so intently that Credence can’t quite lose himself in the steps the way he prefers. He is too aware that he’s being looked at — not watched, but looked at.

Mr. Graves’ hands take hold of him and move him. He’s done this part with Tina so many times and felt nothing. They both have a laugh about each being able to lift the other.

But when Mr. Graves touches him, Credence loses the breath in his lungs like a punch.

He misses a step after the landing and catches himself with another. Mr. Graves sees it all, of course.

The man touches him again. And again. It’s what the choreography demands.

Mr. Graves goes to bended knee with Credence’s hand in his, Credence with his body splayed out in the air, back arched and leg extended until his hip protests. Credence looks at his reflection, sees Mr. Graves on his knees looking up at Credence as a prince looks at a princess — Credence, who doesn’t look at him but only the mirror image of him.

Then Mr. Graves stands up suddenly. “Enough.”

Credence drops his leg, his arm, feels his whole posture collapse.

“You’re an even worse princess, Barebone,” Mr. Graves says. “I thought for a moment, but no, it’s as though you’ve never had a pleasant thought in your entire life.”

Credence swallows.

“Do you even jerk off?” Mr. Graves asks him, and Credence feels his face go red. “Maybe it would help you relax.”

“Fuck you,” Credence hisses.

Mr. Graves barks with laughter. He puts a hand on Credence’s shoulder, hot against Credence’s sweat-soaked shirt.

“Maybe you’ve never been happy, but I can’t say you’re completely passionless,” Mr. Graves says. “Color me surprised.”

#asks #gradence #prompt fic

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iamonlydancing · 7 years

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any good recs?

I got lots of recs, but since you weren’t specific, I got a bit carried away (you gotta be specific, anon, or you’re just giving me the opportunity to gush over things I like)

Sterek fic: Hunter and Hale series by captaintinymite (augopher) - A nail-biting thriller featuring domestic!Sterek, a beautiful bromance between Chris and Derek, and a brilliant climax that had me on the tips of my toes, my heart lodged in my throat the whole time.

Gradence fic: An Account of Witchcraft by nerdygaycas - a lovely, mysterious, beautifully written fic. It places Credence in the setting of 17th century Salem during the height of the witch trials. Instead of Gondulphus Graves being Percival’s ancestor, he’s cast as his father. The setting is so well described you can almost taste the New England chill in the air.

Fiction: The Gleemaiden by Sylvian Hamilton - Part three in a trilogy that remains unfinished due to the author’s death, but it can be read standalone (it was the first book that I read in the series). If you like medieval history, this one will be a treat. It features holy relics, a kidnapped queen who takes no shit, a wholly terrifying villain who may or may not be immortal, an absolutely brilliant female character (whose career provides the title). Also, it starts with the unforgettable line, “Countess Judith kept her husband’s head in a box.”

Non Fiction: White Mughals by William Dalrymple - If you’re interested in the history of the British colonization of India, this is the book for you. It doesn’t focus on only one point of view, but entangled povs from both sides. It features the love story of a British officer and a Mughal noblewoman, but is grounded in fact and un-fictionalized. It also addresses trade, military, and the political climate of the time. It’s a real goodie.

#the real question is what fanfic rec did you want'#gradence or sterek?#here's both #plus some published work cause im reading some real nice stuff now #asks

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pixieking23 · 7 years

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P I N K Y

ahahahaaha omg cute X3

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).Oh man, inventing AUs on the fly is not my strong suit ahahahaha. But I have in my brain kicking around an AU where Kylo is a Gladiator and Hux is his Patron that he fights for, so there you go. It’s not very well fleshed out at this point, but I think it’s kinda neat. Kylo’s been forced into the Gladiator pits and needs to impress a Patron to sponsor him, or else he’ll be executed and Hux ends up being the one to take him on and sponsor his matches. Every match is won in Hux’s name. Hux is very demanding and pushes him into harder and harder matches, and also on occasion makes him fuck female slaves for breeding purposes. Kylo hates him but also knows that he’d be dead without a Patron, that Hux pays for his food and his board and his equipment. And really, it’s a pretty pampered life when he’s not in the ring, and Hux lords that over him constantly. I’m not really sure how Kylo ended up as a Gladiator though, like I said it’s far from fully fleshed out.

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?I wouldn’t necessarily say that Tumblr caused me to drift away from the Loki fandom, but the prevalence of sub!Loki headcanons and the assertion that anyone who thought otherwise was wrong and had interpreted the character wrong certainly contributed. I could have pushed through and kept doing my own thing, but then Kylux came around and consumed my life :P

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).More Dom!HuxMore hardcore kink/dark content More First Order headcanons(Look I came for the bootlicking and the Hux-Wrecking-Kylo and I feel like the fandom has drifted from that a lot, which is fine but I’m still here and way into the classic stuff)

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?In all fandoms ever? It’s a cliche I think, but I gotta point to Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender. I’ve never seen a Redemption Arc handled so well in anything, ever. Instead of just having the character make The Right Choice at the final moments of the story and thereby earn Redemption, Zuko actually went through a very long and grueling process wherin his prejudices were challenged and his perceptions were changed. It was messy, it took a long time, and when he does eventually join the heros it’s awkward and nobody handwaves what he did previously. Best character development arc I’ve ever seen.

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?|Well a lot of the people I follow are very heavily into Gradence (Credence Barebone/Percival Graves from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them), and of course you can hardly be on Tumblr and avoid seeing things from Yuri on Ice lol. I’m not really in either of those fandoms, but I’m glad the people in them are having fun ;)(I also see the occasional Voltron content, which I am more lowkey into)

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#ask games!#pinkyhuxy

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carryonmyobscurialson-blog · 7 years

Text

Mr. Graves Maid Obscurial

Note: Remember that Ms. Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon inspired Gradence fic I said I’d write? Well while I was drunk as shit the other night, I totally did.

Pairing: Original Percival Graves/Credence Barebone (obviously)

Summary: Tina is not allowed to have men over at her apartment. Credence needs a place to live. What's a girl to do? Other than use magic to pass him off as Christine, a young girl working as her maid because she's desperate for employment.But...was the super short maid's dress really that necessary?Queenie thinks so.Tina's boss at MACUSA, Mr. Graves, might be of a different opinion, however.

Under the cut!

"I understand altering his features but is the dress really necessary?"

Tina and Queenie inspected Credence -- or rather Christine --- as he trembled before them in much too short French maids dress. The ends of the frilly black and white skirt barely touched the top of his knees --- knees that weren't quite his own.

Credence was in need of a place to stay, and Tina's apartment complex did not allow for men to inhabit it. So, the Goldstein sisters had gone about the only plausible course of action -- they changed the few masculine features that Credence possessed in order to pass him off as female.

The dress was Queenie's idea.

"I think the dress is cute." Queenie giggled mischievously, Tina rolling her eyes beside her, "Don't fret honey, you look fine. We need to be convincing now, don't we?"

"What maid dresses like that?!?" Tina exclaimed with exasperation.

"Lots," Queenie responded vaguely before the blonde Goldstein scurried away before she could be interrogated further.

Tina sighed and turned back to Credence, smiling sympathetically, "You do look quite nice."

Credence returned the smile tersely but didn't say anything back. Instead, he turned to inspect himself in the mirror for the hundredth time that afternoon.

The Goldstein sisters had grown out his hair, that much he was grateful for -- the ugly bowl haircut was now an impressive mane of regal black locks, extending just past his shoulders. Credence didn't miss the bowl cut, and he didn't think he ever would.

The other stuff, he was a little more apprehensive about.

For starters, they had straightened out his nose, as well as made it just a smidge smaller in both length and width. They made his cheekbones just a bit higher, and somehow seemed to have magicked some kind of permanent blush on there.

The lips were the same -- the lips were plump and red enough to belong to a boy or a girl. There were only a few other altercations, in order to make himself "convincingly" feminine. It's not that he wasn't already, but they needed to make sure that the no maj's had no reason to raise question or doubt that this was Christine – a dainty, timid looking young girl who had come to the Goldstein sisters desperate for work. Tina, out of the goodness of her heart – which isn't a scenario that was out of character – had agreed to give her a housekeeping position.

He reached out to touch his own reflection staring back at him, both yearning and disquiet churning at his stomach and tugging at his heart. One part of his mind saw an abomination; the other saw someone he should have been if there were truly a loving and benevolent God above, a God who loved him.

Overall, Credence saw someone beautiful. And that was just the problem:

He didn't feel like he was supposed to be.

When Percival Graves visited the Goldstein's, Credence had intended to stay in his room. While was fully aware it was the true Percival Graves, one of the few humans who had shown him some compassion before Grindelwald had taken on his face, Credence still had no intention of reliving any nostalgic feelings quite yet. He had intended to tidy up the place as was his job (if anyone asked), and Credence was just going to board himself in his bedroom and not come back out until preferably the next morning.

Of course, as luck would have it, that's not what happened at all.

Credence hadn't even heard the door open, or anyone exchanging greetings. He had been setting the table one hour before Mr. Graves was even due to arrive when the asshole came sauntering into the room with that confident air that he had not lost an ounce of since Credence had last seen him.

Credence froze with his hand still setting down a fork.

Mr. Graves halted at the sight of him, as though he had hit some kind of invisible brick wall in his path.

Behind Mr. Graves, Tina panted as she sprinted over to them -- perhaps wanting to have stopped Mr. Graves before he could encounter Credence.

Obviously, it was too late for that.

"Mr...Mr. Graves...." She huffed and heaved, "This is Christine, our new help."

Mr. Graves nodded slowly as he spoke, his eyes still not leaving Credence's, "Christine. I see."

Credence put on his best Christine voice, lightening it just an octave, "N—nice to meet you, Mr. Graves."

"Likewise." Mr. Graves nodded curtly, finally seeming to gather himself. He cleared his throat and turned back to Tina, "So, pot roast you said?"

Credence took the opportunity to run back to his room, silverware arrangements forgotten. He was relieved beyond measure when no one tried to stop him.

The next morning, Queenie came to his bedroom. She knocked gingerly, and Credence opened the door to see her standing in her pink bathrobe, a steaming coffee mug in her hand. A smirk played on her lips.

"Good morning honey! So that Mr. Graves is really interested in employing your cleaning services, ya know?" Queenie purred slyly, taking a sip from her mug.

"Oh... I couldn't... I mean, I'm not even really..." Credence stammered, his face probably already going red. He did help around the Goldstein's sure, he didn't intend to just twiddle his fingers while he stayed here. Still, Credence highly doubted he could pass off as a true maid. He wasn't even entirely sure if Mr. Graves had bought his new identity.

"Maybe it's time for you to start paying some rent." She mused, but she said it with a smile playing at her already glossy lips, "Mr. Graves is a very rich man. I'm sure he plays very... handsomely. Who knows? Maybe he'll talk you on full time."

Credence swallowed hard.

"I..."

Before he could offer a real response, Queenie handed him a small slip of paper.

It had an address scrawled on it in elegant writing. Handwriting that Credence somehow knew belonged to Mr. Graves. He wondered if Mr. Graves had truly been the one to bring up the subject, to make this offer --- or if this was truly the offer he had made. Maybe he did buy into the secret identity.

After a moment's hesitation, Credence took it into unnaturally slender fingers -- fingers that weren't quite his own, with nail polish shining on trimmed nail tips.

"Don't worry." Queenie winked at him after taking another sip of her coffee, "He doesn't know who you are, I checked his thoughts to make sure."

Queenie strode away, and as he watched her leave Credence noticed she had a remarkably similar swagger to Percival's -- they both swung their hips with the air of someone who knew there would always be people lusting after those hips... or what was between the hips.

Damn them.

Credence found himself on Percival Graves doorstep less than 24 hours later. He was still wearing the dress.

Tina had given him various other things to wear, but much to Queenie's telling amusement, they almost always seemed to vanish.

So, the dress it was.

Tina had insisted that he looked good in it.

Right?

Queenie has assured him Mr. Graves didn't know who he was anyway.

Right?

The door swung open before he could even knock on it -- Percival Graves stood there in a silk black bathrobe. Credence inhaled sharply.

"Christine." Mr. Graves smirked, "Come on in. "

Trying not to have a panic attack right there and then, Credence shuffled in past Mr. Graves. He had hoped the Auror hadn't noticed him staring... but he probably did, the observant bastard.

Credence let himself into the large brownstone, the brownstone he had always wondered about the interior of. Everything was in place, organized spick and span. There was not a dust mite or bunny in sight. Credence wasn't entirely sure what it was Mr. Graves needed tidying.

Credence turned to Mr. Graves, who was pouring a dark red liquid into a wine glass, presumably wine.

Trying not to sound too intimidated, Credence cleared his throat and remarked, "Quite the place you have here Mr. Graves. I'm.."

"Cut the crap Credence."

Credence gaped openly, and Mr. Graves smirked -- which Credence was starting to think was just a default expression for the brazen bastard.

"You... you didn't ask me here to clean, did you... sir?"

"Nope." Percival grinned slyly before he took a sip from his wine glass.

"How... how did you know?" Credence squeaked, feeling dumb and awed and seduced all at the same time, "Queenie said..."

"I'd recognize those lips anywhere, darling." Percival shook his head. He took a step forward and out of reflex Credence took a step back, "...but what the hell did those gals do to your face?"

Credence absently patted at his own jawline, magically altered to seem a bit more dainty. "They made me beautiful. Like a girl. Like my sisters had been. There's no men allowed at the Goldstein's apartment, so I had to look like a girl, really."

Mr. Graves' expression was not shy in it's abhorrence."Heaven's, no.", he growled lowly, the words dripping with distaste.

He whipped out his wand out of his robe pocket, and Credence flinched. Percival sighed, but he still tapped the end of the wand to the tip of Credence's nose.

"Revelio."

In a swift succession of tickling sensations in various areas, the magical mask came undone.

Credence found himself cowering without it; as though Mr. Graves had never seen his true appearance before. He felt shame burning upwards through his cheeks and spilling out of his eyes through brimming tears.

Mr. Graves gently tilted Credence's chin so that he had no choice but to face him.

"Look at me..." Mr. Graves whispered softly, running a thumb over his naked, flawed, and ugly face.

Credence obeyed, and his heart fluttered under the gaze of his old friend -- the man once viewed as his personal Jesus; and then as his personal Judas.

"Much better..." Mr. Graves crooned before smiling a genuine, heartfelt smile. It was something he had never seen on Percival Graves before – neither original nor doppelganger – but it was truly one of the most beautiful things Credence had seen in his very ugly life. The older man dove in for a kiss more passionate, with lips more hungry and reassuring than Credence had imagined in his wildest daydreams.

When they parted, Credence was breathless. His vision blurred from tears and euphoria and delirium. He panted where he stood, at a loss for words.

Mr. Graves chuckled darkly, remarking as he walked off, "I'll be writing Tina to tell her you've found new employment then, eh my boy?"

Credence could only nod dumbly, straightening out the skirt of his French maids dress in a weak attempt to hide his shaking knees that were very much his own.

#credence barebone #percival graves #gradence #gravebone #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft

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