pinenut

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TGMoTASFEo2026/signups/new

wheeeee Absolutely!

Halter Hitch has a relatively in situ start! I'm not fleshing out a ton where they are what they're at we get a pretty lengthy and agonized blurb in the beginning and then get right into the meat of things (Gale Cleven Sexual Torture Nexus)

In this Gale does not end up marrying Marge after the war, it's not something that's really unpacked in his summary of it but really just comes down to trauma and the profound impact his bond with John had on him and his ability to recreate that level of trust and connection with someone else. Because his latent homosexual tendencies of course. He's living in Wyoming, teaching classes post-doctorate, and working on his studies. Halter Hitch takes place mid-early 50's * so both of them are in their mid-thirties and Gale has been single and lonely for years now.

John stayed in the military and is posted in Chicago training recruits/desk jockeying. He's a burnt out, traumatized and pretty solidly in the grip of alcoholism (as most suffering gay artists are) He had a brief fiance that similarly didn't pan out (or they are married and divorced I have not yet decided) and at this point in time he's living a pretty risky double life with his regular apartment as well as one for his art and extracirriculars close to the gay bar that he frequents. Neither he nor Gale have really kept up with each other in recent years. Gale understands John is struggling and it's mostly lapsed communicationon John's part (which is partly because so much of his life outside of work isn't something you can really share with your buddy from the army who you think is straight)

John has long had an understanding of his sexuality and identity however he doesn't really get into bdsm/kink until postwar. I wanted to explore two guys doing real kink, understanding what kink is but also not having the care or knowledge to do it in any safe sort of way with any sort of negotiation. It's all instinct and impulse.

Using the broad shape of John’s back to leverage himself up, Gale stands. Chest tight, breath heavy, sweat was dripping uncomfortably down the center of his back and tickling along his waistband. John was still sprawled with disheveled clothing and framed by a scattered network of overlapping sketches, drawings, some scribbled out in large sqwirls of charcoal that now stained both their clothes, Gale’s fingertips. Dewy lips, parted, the sharp cliff edge of a jawline heading into a neck. Hips, torsos, cocks, the curve of an ass or two; Gale can recognize the fleeting glimpses caught in communal showers, bathing in rivers, men walking around the bunkhouse uncaring of their dress because who would they ever suspect would be looking? Gale’s eyes are imprinted with limbs bound tight by ropes, strung up; suspended. Trussed together like the game they used to dry in the shed for winter. And bruise marks, blooms of dark around mouths, necks, nipples, stripes across an ass that Gale recognized as coming from a switch. Like all of it had been spilled from John’s mind exactly for Gale’s purview.

He nudges John’s side with the toe of a shoe, adjusting the skewed angle of his tie and forcing his lungs to take a few deep breaths. “Roll over,” he says.

With a grunt, John obeys.

“Take it out.” Gale licks his lips. “Show me.”

A very tiny percentage of creators go on to be famous, but that doesn’t mean that people don’t remember little things you did for years and years. Who came up with most of the world’s most famous jump rope rhymes? Who coined some of the famous idioms we use in daily speech? Who made up ‘Jingle Bells, Batman Smells?” Somehow, all of these things stuck and spread around.

When I was a small child, I saw a high school put on a production of the musical HONK. In one song, the mother duck describes various dangers that her baby should avoid in the water, including fishing line, which could strangle him. A member of the ensemble played the role of fishing line, doing a maniacal laugh and over-the-top strangling motions, and I found it hilarious– and to this day, that’s an example I often think of when talking about how ensemble members can still stand out in theatre. The guy who played the role might not even remember that he did that, but I do.

I took Suzuki violin lessons as a kid. The teacher made up lyrics to some of the songs, and she let her students make some up, too. Now whenever I hear the instrumental of one of those pieces, I always remember these ridiculous lyrics about a skunk that we sang in violin class. I don’t even know which student invented them!

In middle school, I found a video about atoms parodying Bill Nye made by some kids for a school product. It probably had less than 1,000 views, but I think of quotes from that video all the time. They had a parody of “We Will Rock You” with the chorus, “Protons, neutrons, electrons” that I think about a lot.