#Trans Fuckin Rights. that is my statement. thank you

[b4kuch1n]

I BUILD MY PHYSICAL REALITY, WITH BRICKS IF NEED BE

[spennsrs]

spencer agnew x reader

reader is a new intern/assistant for the games department and her and spencer kinda hit it off

possible slow burn

spencer content <3 love you

↳˳;; ❝ fuckin' nerd ༊*·˚

here we go spencer nation this is for you and erm its somewhat slowburn ig.... no confirmation of relationship so yas... reader referred to using they/them <3

first day jitters fuckin' sucked. [y/n] could attest to that.

they rub their hands on the front of their jeans, the material somewhat grounding them as they stare at the office building... okay, technically it wasn't their first day, they had been there yesterday to set their desk up and get somewhat acquainted with the games side of the office. they met alex tran, jacqi, even vida!

but a specific glasses wearing, kickstart drinkin' idiot (alex tran's words) wasn't there. spencer agnew.. or their boss, essentially.

[y/n] didn't know why they were so nervous. it's not like spencer was a scary guy, per say... maybe he was. shaking their head, [y/n] enters the building with a semi-confident grin on their face, entering the lobby... only to be met with another body. well.. more like colliding.

"oh shit, i'm sorry dude-" "my bad-"

[y/n] collects themself as they brush off their clothes, before looking up to an average height male with curly dark hair and round glasses framing his eyes. he was... cute, in a... kind of dorky, awkward nerdy best friend in some mediocre coming of age novel. they find themself staring and quickly before they start to talk.

"you okay? we bumped pretty hard into each other... usually, i'm paying way more attention, i guess, i'm so sorry-" "hey.. you're that new intern, right? holy shit, you are. [y/n], right? what a first impression... i'm spencer by the way."

fuck. shit. fuckin' shit. of course this was their boss. they just ran into their boss, on their second first day...

"uhm... yeah. i'm [y/n], the one and only, heh. listen, i feel terrible for what i did, i can make it up to you! buy you a coffee, extra work, whatever you need, i'm willing."

their words were met with silence from spencer, and for a brief moment, they thought they fucked up royally. completely. fired on the spot.

"first meeting, an you're already asking me on a date? bold moves, [y/n], but i'm not that easily swayed." spencer's lips tug into a toothy grin, a grin that holds a teasing and chaff, a grin that promises lots of fun jokes at work, a grin that promised to keep them on their toes, to keep their heart fluttering-

[y/n] can't help but snort with a raised brow, determined to give back the same sass. if this is what it was like working here, they could get used to this place. "in your dreams, boss man. workplace relationships never work out anyway." they snap back with a laugh, which makes spencer mirror the action.

"fair enough, fair enough. i'm just pulling your chain, welcome to smosh games. i think we'll get along just fine."

[y/n] likes to agree with that statement.

only a week of working at smosh, and [y/n] was finding the place to be a second home of sorts.

alex t had quickly climbed the ranks of becoming [y/n]'s favorite person, almost like a brother figure of sorts to the newer employee. on the other end of that, spencer had grown to be [y/n]'s biggest enemy, bully, and pin in their ass.

in a loving way, of course.

the two of them would bounce off each other's energy, and could bicker for hours, and had even developed a bit of a joking beef in the office. this also led to a little.. club of sorts, smosh employees who were banking on spencer and [y/n] eventually ending up together. even mythical employees were in on this, thanks to trevor. (who would've known rhett and link would be the fan club's number one members)

of course, this had led to some unspoken feelings, at least on spencer's side of things. he refused to say a thing, workplace relationships and h.r and all that jazz or whatever. he also didn't want to seem creepy as their boss having a crush on one of the interns. the only person who actively knew about spencer's little... predicament was alex t, which kind of sucks considering how close alex was to [y/n]. so, all in all, he was fucked.

lost in his own thoughts, spencer made his way to the office kitchen to grab another kickstart when he notices [y/n] fiddling with... well, he couldn't give a shit. what mattered was [y/n] was here. he runs a hand through his hair as he approaches them from behind, a wicked grin on his lips before he gently pokes their side. the other's body jolts and spencer catches how their eyes go wide like saucers, before spinning to glare at spencer. he could tell the glare wasn't angry or upset really, but also the bubbling laugh kinda gave them away.

"hey, [y/n], whatcha doin'? anything interesting?"

the other scoffs and turns back to what they were doing, which spencer can actually see is them fixing their lunch as [y/n] releases a dramatic sigh. "i was peacefully making lunch, but now the duke of chaos himself is here."

"duke of chaos? i'm the god of chaos, thank you very much, goddess of idiocy." that earned him another friendly glare over the shoulder. this is what he adored about them. sure, they were really cute, and their laugh was like... the most beautiful song he's heard, and their hands were nice and soft and fit right in his perfectly-

spence, stop getting carried away.. right.

he adored [y/n] because they knew how to joke, how to have a laugh, to keep up with his rather snarky little comments. he really valued that in a friend or a partner, but for some reason.. playful bullying looked really good especially on [y/n]. well... [y/n]'s specific hair color looked good on them as well... and that new top - he knew it was new because maybe he overheard them talking to chanse about it - fit them perfectly, and their eye color fit them perfectly-

"anyone home in there? this is ground control to spencer agnew, do you copy?" .... oh shit, they had been talking. he stared at them with wide eyes, swallowing thickly. he felt something akin to a blush creeping up his neck to settle on his cheeks, and he knew they could see it based on the sly smirk that played onto their lips. "you're lucky it's me you're staring, y'know. think about that next time you gawk at women while zoning out."

"i wasn't-.. shut up, i wasn't gawking!" he definitely was gawking.

"you stupid fuckin' nerd. come on, we have a meeting to get to."

spencer could live with this, keeping the pretty intern a daydream away so they could keep a good work friendship with their inside jokes and their movie nights they'll end up having, spencer sharing his love for kickstarts with [y/n] who will complain but drink them anyway... as long as they were in his life, he didn't quite care what they were, or what other people thought of them. he couldn't care less if he gave his feelings away in the fleeting touches when they returned a pen they borrowed and how he made it linger, or how he stared at them like they hung the stars in the sky just for him... he didn't need a picture perfect movie ending...

all that mattered was he was their stupid fuckin' nerd, where they liked (or knew) it or not.

[dee-morris]

An Overdue Rant and a Christmas Fic

I wrote this Hallmark AU last December. It was supposed to be a jokey little one-shot, but man it ate my brain. My average daily word count is 500-1k words a day, and I think I was doing 2k to 5k a day until it was done. I couldn't fuckin stop, and it was glorious.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43616245/chapters/109670092

This is very important to me, because I came to fanfic like a dying traveler comes to an oasis. After the pandemic I became deeply depressed and I developed chronic writer's block. Marketing was an uphill slog, and not being able to go out and socialize at events made it unbearable. When I did go out, the anxiety I felt about COVID made it not fun. I wasn't sure if I was ever going to write again.

Writing fanfiction was a welcome reprieve from all that: no deadlines! No SEO! No depressingly tiny royalty statements! Positive reinforcement with no dollar signs attached! So it was nice, it was fun, but I didn't really get my groove back until I wrote HallMark. That wasn't just fun. That was drive. That was passion. And it was glorious.

After it was done and posted, I couldn't forget about it. I had to know what it was about that story that grabbed me by the brain cells like that. So I went back and read it again, and I read the comments (thank you all kind people you're the best), and I realized that it was about Aziraphale and Crowley, but it was really about my feelings towards how children are raised.

*I'm not going to completely spoil the fic here, but feel free to go read it before we get further bc I'm about to discuss some thematic elements.*

Crowley is raising the Antichrist to be the destroyer of worlds on the surface, but underneath it he cares about the world, and he cares about Adam too. And that is the side of him that Adam responds to, and why he turns out the way he does. And that's what parents don't understand about children. They are only kind of listening to your words. What they respond to, and what nurtures them, is your behavior towards them and towards the world you're raising them in. If you tell your kid that Jesus loves everyone and we should help the poor, but you vote for people who will cut welfare bc you think you'll get a tax break and a new boat, your kid sees you. If you tell your kid that it's a sin to judge others but you glare at a tall woman going into the ladies room bc you think she might be trans, your kid sees you. They might grow up to be an asshole or they might grow up to think that you're one, but either way you lose.

And if you tell your kid that his destiny is to destroy the world and that living things are fit only to be ground under his heels, but you make him sandwiches and worry about him when he's out of your sight and buy him stupid Christmas crap because it makes him happy, your kid might not turn out as evil as you thought.

(don't actually tell your kid he's the Antichrist, btw, this fic is hyperbole for symbolic thematic purposes and not a parenting guide)

Anyway, my point is if you love your kid and treat him right, if you treat other people right, and give him a stable home and maybe a dog if you can afford it, he'll probably turn out pretty much okay. The rest is just flavor.

Parents stress too much about things that don't matter, but it's not our fault. You have to run the gauntlet a couple of times before you can filter out stuff that matters from stuff that doesn't, because the books and guides and parenting classes will just try to scare you about everything. Let me assure you that your baby does not give two shits if you feed with breast or bottle. But your child will remember whether you were happy, and whether you took pleasure in their presence in your life.

So what sucked me in about this fic was the reversal of what I've seen in the real world. My brain conjured a fantasy of someone who's a good parent despite themselves, instead of a bad parent with a church habit and a fat bank account. Of course I had to bring that fantasy into the world. It's how things become real.

[silvermare]

i don’t remember 9 year old me, what is time

i do know that it was Life Experiences that made me Realize Some Things About Myself™ in my mid-late 30′s and I’m not quite 40

It’s not so much that I identified as any particular way so much as I didn’t have any reason to question what labels were relevant, somehow, until much later. When your entire life is remarkably devoid of trauma some fuckin’ how, with supportive family because you were diagnosed with ADD (now ADHD-PI) relatively early, never got in trouble outside of “go the fuck to sleep it’s 1a and we told you to turn out your light and go to sleep THREE HOURS AGO” and “jfc your room looks like a tornado ran through it three times”) because you were hyperfixating on safe fiction (Westerns lmao) and showed no interest in boys (hey look at that aceness), somehow you don’t think to ask yourself what that look was, what it meant, when they asked if you though Brad Pitt (circa ~1995) was hot and you shrugged and said I guess

also didn’t really think about it when people would say “you’re a girl right?” and i would just shrug and respond “eehhhhhhhhh...”

when the thought of being a bride at a wedding was just kinda... no thank you, and played it off as 100% hating being the center of attention and having no wish to wear a dress (both of which are true but isn’t the full extent of it) but then you Catch Feels for a friend and sigh because it’s so annoying how your brain fixates on a person and then that person ends up trans and your brain doesn’t give a shit so like. what?

anyway

if 30 year old me didn’t know what the fuck is up with me then sure as shit 9 year old me would have even less of a clue

9 year old me was probably out doing dumb kid shit like tying twine around a pig’s neck so that I could catch it easier next time i wanted to ride it, or learning that you don’t have to have a penis in order to inflict crotchtal pain (...by way of riding a cow sans saddle that had a lot of jersey blood in her, fuckin spine ow) or vacuuming the horse because brushing is So Much Work 

9 year old me was NOT having deep thoughts about gender or sexuality

hell, 9 year old me was not having deep thoughts end of statement

Today in transphobic idiocy...

Avery Jackson did a non-medical transition at the age of four. At the time, they felt more comfortable as a girl. As they grew up and their understanding of gender evolved, they decided nonbinary transgender suited them better.

And now that they are 15, their family is moving out of Missouri because they fear the recent draconian anti-trans laws.

"No longer identifies as a girl" does not mean they identify as a boy. They are still trans. They knew from the age of 4 that being a boy was not right for them.

I don't think they changed their mind. I think they just found a better understanding of who they were.

These bigots know nothing about trans people yet think they are qualified to criticize them.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you're the pink in my cheeks (i'm a little bit soft)

summary: "and i know we'll never grow old together / cause you'll never grow old to me / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft"

- "monster," marceline (adventure time)

(OR: 5.4k of soft domestic lesbian!analogical, featuring lesbian!moceit, trans male!remus, trans female!roman, and Gay Shenanigans)

a/n: huge thank you to dandie for beta'ing this fic!

i just wanted to write wlw is that so wrong of me? no. no it is not.

CW: alcohol mentions, a few sex jokes, swearing, one implied instance of potential sexual activity (although it doesn't go any farther than making out; if you want to skip that part, skip the section that starts with "Did you get the right kind of popcorn?")

word count: ~5.4k

read it on ao3!!

“I think I may be going insane,” Logan says, squinting at her laptop screen. Virginia, hanging upside-down in the armchair, looks up from her phone and blinks.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am starting to agree with Rosie’s anti-Florida agenda.”

“I didn’t realize that there was an anti-Florida agenda.”

“Rosie has one, and I have always thought it facetious. However, if this laboratory does not start sending me my requested samples and information in a timely manner, I will be forced to concede that Rosie may have . . . a point.”

“You, agreeing with a lit major? I never thought I’d see the day,” Virginia teases. Logan initially resists the urge to stick her tongue out or flip Virginia off, because that would be childish, but then she remembers that Virginia does not care about her childishness, so she sticks her tongue out. Virginia snorts with laughter, and Logan feels warm, fizzy pop-rocks bursting in her chest.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she picks it up. There’s a new message blinking for her attention on the screen.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

a, b, or c

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

. . . What?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

*rolls eyes*

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

i need you to make a selection, logan. a, b, or c.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

I am confused. What am I selecting between?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Yes. I would like to know. That is why I asked you.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Also, I am not a meteorologist. Or a boy.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

it’s a meme, i’m sure v will be happy to show you the og. but first: make a choice

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Option B, I suppose?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

vodka it is!

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Wait, what?

Her phone buzzes again, another text thread lighting up, and Logan abandons the now-fruitless conversation with Jan to see that her wife has texted.

[from: soda poppy]

y is jan fillin a thermos with vodka and sayin u gave her the go ahead? >:(

[to: soda poppy]

I am unsure. She texted me asking me to make a choice between “a, b, and c” with no context given. When I eventually selected “b,” she excitedly mentioned vodka and logged off.

[from: soda poppy]

her an remy r going 2 a pta meeting tonight an i guess they’re goin drunk

[to: soda poppy]

Is that a . . . normal occurrence?

[from: soda poppy]

sadly yeah

[to: soda poppy]

Wait, is she even allowed to attend PTA meetings? You two don’t have any children?

[from: soda poppy]

she’s on the school board so she has the right 2 attend. idk if she’s supposed to or not but its never stopped her b4

“Everythin’ good over there?” Virginia asks.

“I believe I may have just enabled Jan to attend a PTA meeting drunk.” Virginia snorts, swiping at her phone.

“Good for her, honestly. The only reason she and Poppy live in that neighborhood is so that Jan can flaunt her wife in front of all the capital-s Straight people, because she’s a petty fuckin’ bitch.”

“That is a strange word choice for your best friend.”

“I hate Jan, she’s a bitch,” Virginia says, smirking fondly at her phone. Logan knows her girlfriend well enough to know that this statement is disingenuous, so she stands up, stretching her arms above her head, and leans down to drop a kiss onto Virginia’s forehead.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan blinks awake slowly, feeling for the position of her limbs. She’s on her left side, left arm tucked up under her pillow to cradle her head, wrapped in the thick comforter of their bed. Her right arm is slung across Virginia’s body, and her girlfriend is pressed up against her, head tucked right under Logan’s chin and face nestled into her neck and chest. Virginia breathes, slow and deep and even, and Logan hums, huffing out a soft exhale.

She carefully wiggles out of bed, tucking the comforter around Virginia’s curled-up form. Virginia grumbles when the cool morning air slips against her skin, because she is a foolish woman who insists upon sleeping in short shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top no matter the current weather patterns. Logan wraps her up, making sure that she’s shifted into the middle of the warm divot of body heat, and Virginia settles in, asleep again in a heartbeat.

Logan turns to the corner chair, where her early-morning outfit is already laid out: athletic leggings, a sports bra, a moisture-wicking quarter zip jacket. She changes quietly, lights off, and tugs on a pair of ankle socks before slinking into the bathroom. Once the door is shut, she flicks on the soft lights over the vanity and carefully undoes her sleep braid. Normally, Virginia does Logan’s hair, because Logan is not good at dealing with her wavy, tangled, curly mess, but she won’t wake up her girlfriend for that. She can, at bare minimum, pull her hair up into a high ponytail for running purposes.

They live in a small town only a short walk (and even shorter bike ride) from the beach, full of little two-story brightly-colored beach cottages. Logan steps off her front porch, pulls out her phone, and quickly shoots a text.

[to: ginny <3]

I am headed to the beach for my weekly run. I will likely return before you wake up, but in case I do not: I will be back before 9 AM.

[to: ginny <3]

I love you <3

Logan kicks up the kickstand on her bike, runs her fingers over the glossy dark-blue paint flecked with white and silver and gold to mimic stars, and swings one leg over the bike seat. She carefully pedals out into the narrow road and heads for the beach. The cool early-morning air whips past her face, and she chances a glance up at the dark-blue-turning-light-blue-grey sky and smiles.

She’s always been an early-morning morning person, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan’s sneakers dig into the hard-packed wet sand along the water’s edge as she runs. Seagulls scatter in front of her, and the podcast Virginia recommended hums in her ear. The sun creeps up, up, up onto the horizon, coloring the blue-grey into streaks of brilliant pink and orange and gold, light reflecting off the water in resplendent diamond sparkles.

Logan runs half a mile down the beach, turns around, runs back to where she started and then runs half a mile in the other direction before turning around and running back to her starting point. By the time she’s bent over, hands on her knees, huffing out breath while her legs burn pleasantly, the sun has emerged fully from the ocean, and Logan is beginning to wish she had worn a visor.

She takes a moment to appreciate the sensory experiences of being on a nearly-abandoned beach: the scent of salt water, the sound of waves crashing against sand, the errant cries of gulls squabbling over fish. Their little beach is not nearly pristine enough for a tourist attraction, and too far north along the Atlantic coast to be warm year-round. Still, Logan loves it, and cannot imagine living anywhere else.

She hunts along the water’s edge as she walks, briefly, a cool-down before the bike ride home. She finds a few things worth photographing, a few crabs to shoo back into the ocean, and a few things worth gathering: an intact clam shell whose smooth curve runs unbroken from the heel of her palm to the tip of her index finger when she lays it flat in her hand, a light gray rock worn smooth by the waves that turns dark-gray-almost-black when wet, a small spiral shell that she thinks may have broken off of the top of a snail shell. Logan wraps all three things carefully in a small handkerchief from the little bag she keeps in her bike basket, pulling out her phone to note the time (8:37 AM) and the message notification flashing at her.

[from: ginny<3]

dunno why you insist on being a morning person. stop by the dunkin on your way back and get us breakfast?

[to: ginny<3]

You had Dunkin for breakfast three times this week. You should consume something healthy.

[from: ginny <3]

>:( >:( >:( >:(

[from: ginny <3]

counterpoint: you bringing me dunkin is better than me not eating breakfast at all. which is the alternative because i do not want to get up and prepare anything

[to: ginny <3]

Your womanly wiles will not work on me in regards to Dunkin breakfast.

[from: ginny <3]

bitch (affectionate)

[to: ginny <3]

Would you like me to make you breakfast on my return, beloved?

[from: ginny <3]

. . .

[from: ginny <3]

will you make me an omelette? with all the cheesy goo an shit?

[to: ginny <3]

I will make you an omelette with some degree of “cheese goo.”

Logan slides her phone into her pocket, huffing out a laugh at her girlfriend’s behavior, and hops onto her bike again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Your omelettes are always so much better than mine,” Virginia says, moaning as she sinks her teeth into an enormous bite of egg and cheese. Logan, calmly dicing bell peppers to mix into her own omelette, smiles.

“All food tastes better when it is prepared by someone who is not you.”

“You’ve clearly never had anything the twins have cooked.” Virginia takes another bite, pops a multivitamin into her mouth, and chases it down with a gulp of milk. “Besides, it tastes better because you made it.”

“I am not the most accomplished chef in the world, certainly, but I am glad you enjoy my cooking.”

Virginia laughs softly. “Lo, I like your food because it’s prepared by someone who loves me. I can taste the love in everything you make for me.”

Logan turns back to her peppers to hide her blush. “Love is not a measurable ingredient when cooking.” Virginia laughs again, louder this time; when Logan sets the knife down, she hears Virginia’s chair scrape out behind her as she stands, feels her arms wrap around her waist, feels the cool skin of her face press into her neck.

“Love you.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Stressful day at work?” Logan asks, hearing the door slam.

Virginia kicks off her flats, sending them flying into the wall with a clatter. Logan sets down her crochet project and moves toward the entrance of their house, where Virginia is shrugging off her rainjacket to reveal a mint-green Peter Pan-collared blouse and dark gray dress pants. “The stressiest.”

Logan takes the jacket and shakes it out on the tiled entranceway before hanging it on the hook. “I am sorry, beloved.”

“Lots of assessments, lots of parents who don’t understand why I’m assessing their kid, lots of parents insisting that there’s nothing wrong with their kid, or that there’s no way their kid could possibly have the deficits that I’m seeing. Like, I wouldn’t make this shit up, you know? Literally, let me help your child. You came to me, remember? I’m not in the habit of imposing myself onto people.”

“That sounds very stressful,” Logan says. She tries to picture a life where she spends all her time interacting with people she doesn’t know on a regular basis instead of her little corner of the university biochemistry lab where she only has to interact with three or four known people and her immediate supervisor, mostly by email. It sends icy fingers skittering down her spine.

“It is, I hate it. I mean, Kitty’s my supervisor until I get my C’s, so if I have problems I can consult with her, but like . . . why are people the way that they are.”

Logan stretches up and presses a gentle kiss to Virginia’s cheek. “I love you, Ginny.”

Virginia exhales and folds herself around Logan, draping her body over her girlfriend and going limp and boneless. “I don’t wanna be a real person for the rest of the night.”

“That can be arranged.”

“But it’s my night to make dinner.”

“I do not mind switching and having you make dinner tomorrow,” Logan says. “This is an acceptable deviation from the routine.” Virginia pushes her face into Logan’s neck, and Logan nuzzles the side of her head, and she sighs like the entire world has lifted off her chest.

*~*~*~*~*

(This is how it starts:

Logan, taking a class on British literature in her sophomore year because she needs to meet her core requirements. Logan, meeting Rosie, disagreeing with her on almost every single point she raises in class, hating when they’re paired up for their midterm project but earning the best grade in the class overall. Logan, seeing a text from Rosie about how her housemate needs people to participate in a research study for extra credit. Logan, making the long trek down to the health sciences building and seeing Virginia for the first time, thinking that she’s pretty and not knowing that she’ll be thinking that for the rest of her life.)

*~*~*~*~*

“Hello, gorgeous,” Virginia hums.

“Are you talking to me or to the mint plant?” Logan says, aggressively stabbing her pointer finger against the Delete key. It clacks loudly, and she mutters an insult under her breath. “I am going to set myself on fire. I swear to god, I am.”

“Obviously the mint plant,” Virginia says, turning and dropping a kiss on Logan’s head. “You okay, honey?” Logan grumbles more and shoves the laptop away from her with a disgruntled noise. Virginia moves the laptop away and leans over to kiss her forehead.

“I am trying to politely word an email whose essence boils down to, ‘If you do not send me my fucking samples in a timely manner, I am going to be forced to commit an Atrocity the likes of which this earth has never seen’,” Logan says.

Virginia laughs so hard that she sits down on the tiled kitchen floor, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are so funny,” she wheezes. Logan feels her irritation fade a little under the brightness of her girlfriend’s joy. “Let me see the email, I’m good at professional bullshitting.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Braid my hair!” Rosie says, throwing herself down onto the couch. Logan lifts her laptop up just in time to keep Rosie’s head from slamming into the keyboard.

“Ginny is your best bet for braids, Rosie. I have limited experience.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, It just has to be off my neck.”

Logan saves her document and sets her laptop on the coffee table, poking at Rosie’s ribs until she slides onto the floor and settles cross-legged between Logan’s thighs. “A comb and some hair-ties would be appreciated.”

“REMUS!” Rosie shouts.

“WHAT?”

“BRING ME A BRUSH AND SOME HAIR BANDS!”

“GET YOUR OWN!”

“I’m going to kill that man,” Rosie mutters, rolling to her feet. There are suspicious muffled thumping noises from the other room for a few minutes before Rosie emerges, victorious, hair somehow even messier than it was in the first place.

“You are the single loudest person I have ever met,” Logan sighs, taking the comb and the hair ties and beginning to drag it through Rosie’s curls. Rosie winces, just a little, at the pull of the comb, and Logan tries to be more gentle.

“Thank you!”

“I did not say that was a compliment.

“Hey!”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan tugs her sweatshirt sleeves down from where she’d rolled them up previously, shivering a little. Part of her wishes that she had worn leggings instead of capris as she drags the folding chair a little closer to the bonfire, toes dragging through the still-sun-warmed sand. The speaker set up on the food table blasts some sort of current pop music, and Rosie and Poppy dance around each other, chanting the lyrics at each other. They are both very loud and very off-key and, Logan suspects, fairly drunk as well. Remus is in the ocean (definitely buzzed, potentially naked) and Jan is standing at the edge of the ocean, watching to make sure he stays alive.

“Hey,” someone says, low and rumbling in her ear. Logan does not flinch (just barely) and turns to see Virginia, holding a plastic cup with a poorly-drawn sketch of the state of Virginia on it. Her hair is starting to come loose from its messy bun, and her sweater sleeves keep sliding down over her wrists and nearly dunking into her drink, and her breath smells sweet and alcoholic. When she lifts her hand to Logan’s cheek, her fingers are cool, and Logan shivers.

“How’s my girl?” Virginia asks.

“Cold,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia laughs, tipping her head back and exposing the long strip of her neck. Logan wants to lick it.

“You’re adorable,” Virginia says, leaning in and pressing her mouth against Logan’s ear. Her breath is warm and slightly damp. “So pretty, my Logan, and so smart. I bet you know exactly what chemical compounds are making the flames turn that color, hmmm?”

Logan can feel her face burning hotter than the bonfire, but Virginia just sits languidly in her lap, feet propped up on the armrest. Her toes are painted pale purple, and the glitter sparkles in the firelight.

“How many drinks have you had?” Logan asks.

“Enough to feel all tingly,” Virginia says, swirling whatever’s in her cup. “How many have you had?”

“None,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia leans her head against Logan’s shoulder, and her wispy frizz tickled Logan’s nose. She sneezes, and Virginia giggles in the high-pitched, superficial way she only giggles when she gets really, really drunk.

“You sound so cute when you sneeze.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do,” and now Virginia is looking at her, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. “You sound cute when you do anything. You’re cute when you exist. You’re cute no matter what. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Logan hates the taste of alcohol, but she leans in and kisses Virginia anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

“Lo.”

“Hmmm?”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“I’m painting my toes again. Pick a color for me.”

Logan flops over onto her stomach, staring at the neat row of creme polishes sitting on their ottoman. Virginia’s bare feet are propped up in front of them, spread apart awkwardly with neon lemon gel toe spreaders, and she studies the nail polish like she’s trying to determine which vial isn’t poisoned.

“I like that one,” she says finally, pointing to a pale pink polish the color of the flowers Virginia brought her on their first date. Virginia hums, picking the bottle up and tilting it critically in the light.

“Not the one I would have picked, but I said you could pick, so I guess we’re doing it.”

Virginia tosses some bottles of toppers (or “tacos” as she calls them, slang from one of the YouTubers she likes) onto the bed while she paints her toes, and Logan sifts through them to settle on a blue-yellow iridescent one.

“I do not know how you can get behind wearing something called a Unicorn Skin,” Logan says. Virginia just shrugs and plucks the bottle from her hand. Their fingers overlap - Logan’s warm from where they’ve been tucked under her body, Virginia’s cool from where they’ve been gripping the glass bottle. Impulsively, Logan lifts Virginia’s fingers and kisses the tips.

“You’re going to smear the polish,” Virginia mutters, even though she painted her fingers earlier today and they’ve been dry for a while. She doesn’t bother to yank her fingers away, either, so Logan kisses them again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Logan!”

Logan is fully aware that the only thing keeping Poppy from crashing into her like a floral-sundress-covered cannonball is the casserole dish in her hands. She counts her blessings and steps aside to let Poppy in.

“Where’s Jan?”

“Getting something from the car! It’s my turn to drive us home, so she brought something to drink.”

Jan primly kicks the passenger side door shut with her heeled ankle boots, a bottle of wine grasped by the neck in each hand.

“I hope you do not intend to drink both of those in their entirety tonight,” Logan says. Jan rolls her eyes and offers one of the bottles to her.

“This one is a gift for you and Ginia. The other one is for me.”

“None for Poppy?”

“Poppy is the designated driver, so she will not be drinking. And I know she already told you that.” Logan rolls her eyes, and Jan flips her off. “Are you going to invite me in or not?”

“What are you, a vampire?” Virginia shouts from the kitchen.

“Only one of us dresses like the undead, darling, and it isn’t me,” Jan calls back, stepping into the house. “Are the twins here yet?”

“They cannot attend. Remus has orchestra practice and Rosie is teaching a dance class. You already knew both of these facts, because you are in the group text.”

“I am not.”

“You responded to a message in the group thread fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was the NSA agent assigned to monitor me.”

“You are a liar.”

“What else is new?”

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: hey every1! DONUT 4get to make ur bakesale goodies and drop them off at r house by 7 am on fri!

lo tide: Please use normal words. I am begging you.

snesbian (snake lesbian): then beg.

lo tide: I do not recall asking for your opinion.

snesbian (snake lesbian): and yet i give it to you anyway. am i not generous

virgin: if you don’t stop making fun of my gf i swear to god

virgin: also remus if you don’t stop changing my name i’m gonna end you

virgin has changed their name to gin(ny) and tonic!

gin(ny) and tonic: much better anyway

violets are blue rosie is me: i believe you meant anygay

gin(ny) and tonic: i said what i fucking said

ace attorney irl: you changed your name :(

gin(ny) and tonic: every day the Lord regrets giving all of us mod powers in this chat

snesbian (snake lesbian): i have no such regrets

lo tide: Can we circle back to the bake sale, please?

soda poppy: Whatchu wanna kno???

lo tide: I assume it is school related?

soda poppy: yep!

soda poppy: fundraising 4 this year’s art club field trip! since im the faculty advisor im in charge of approving and setting up 4 the fundraisers

lo tide: I see. And why, exactly, is it our responsibility to make things for this fundraiser? Should it not be the students’ responsibility?

soda poppy: they r makin stuff 4 it but also i gotta make sure some of the stuff will b edible yknow

lo tide: I see.

gin(ny) and tonic: listen i know that jan is like. a professional pastry chef an shit. but i’m not making anything fancy like a cheesecake or smthn

gin(ny) and tonic: i’m making like. fuckin brownies

snesbian (snake lesbian): smh don’t you care about the Children at all?

gin(ny) and tonic: no. they’re not my kids

ace attorney irl: i will make cookies

soda poppy: u cannot make them inappropriate shapes

ace attorney irl: :(

violets are blue rosie is me: do not worry, i will make sure they are an appropriate shape

violets are blue rosie is me: i’ll make cupcakes!

lo tide: I believe I have a recipe for lemon squares that I can make. Will lemon squares be sufficient?

soda poppy: yeah! just keep ur stuff free of common allergens like tree nuts

gin(ny) and tonic: so my plan to just yeet you a bag of reese’s peanut butter cups and call it a contribution is out then

*~*~*~*~*

Virginia throws a box of brownie mix into the cart and dusts her hands off. “There. Done.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, we have the rest of the ingredients at home. We have tap water, we have oil, we have eggs, we don’t need anything else. What do we need for your lemon thingies?”

“Lemons, presumably.”

“You’re a comedian,” Logan deadpans. Virginia flips her off, and then leans in to kiss her cheek. “I do need lemons, though. Lemons, more eggs . . . I have a list in my phone.”

“What phone?” Virginia says, dangling Logan’s galaxy-patterned case above her head. “I think you’re too short for this, Lo.”

“Give me my phone,” Logan says, rolling her eyes. Virginia wiggles it above her head, laughing.

“Maybe you should give me something in return.”

“Like what?”

Virginia grins. “Like a kiss, perhaps?”

Logan rolls her eyes again, but she leans in and kisses Virginia gently, swiping her phone back when Virginia lowers her hand to cup her face. “Thank you for paying the toll, sweetheart.”

“You are ridiculous,” Logan says. It doesn’t stop her from gently kissing Virginia’s cheek before pushing the cart down the aisle again.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

lo tide: What time did you want us to drop off the baked goods, Poppy?

soda poppy: if ur gonna b in the area, u can just drop them off at my house!

ace attorney irl: i made some of the shapes inappropriate but those ones r 4 u and jan

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the bake sale?

ace attorney irl: . . .

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the children, remus.

ace attorney irl: nothin’ too crazy! jan had some normal summer shapes - suns, flip flops, etc. etc. used those

soda poppy: :D thx remus!

ace attorney irl: made some fishies too! but the octopi are just for u an jan.

ace attorney irl: i . . . may have painted dicks on them

soda poppy: well at least u warned me right

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you get the right kind of popcorn?” Logan asks.

“If by ‘the right kind’ you mean ‘your favorite kind,’ then yes, I did,” Virginia says, coming into the living room with a large yellow bowl full of fluffy popcorn. “What are we watching tonight? It’s your turn to pick, isn’t it?”

“Gay fish,” Logan says.

Virginia sets the popcorn on the coffee table and blinks at her. “That is . . . quite the description of Finding Nemo, sweetheart.”

“Not Finding Nemo, Ginny. Luca. It’s new, and it’s not explicitly gay, but there is a very obvious queer reading. I thought we could watch it together.”

“Anything with you sounds wonderful.”

“Sap,” Logan mutters. She leans in to kiss Virginia’s cheek, but Virginia turns at the last moment and presses their lips together.

“Are you sure you want to watch a movie?” she says. “We could just make out instead, if you want.” She pushes gently on Logan’s stomach, guiding her to lay on her back on the couch. Virginia lays on top of her, gently sliding a hand to rest warm and heavy on her stomach. She leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Logan’s neck, and then her jaw, and then rubbing their noses together.

“Tonight is movie night,” Logan says. Virginia presses their mouths together, and Logan hums, gently pressing up into the kiss. “We should be watching a movie.”

“Are you sure?” Virginia says. “I think we should pursue this avenue a little further.”

Logan squirms a little. “I - I would not - um - no, thank you.”

Virginia’s eyes, which were hazing over with something, clear as she blinks. “Okay, sweetheart.” She leans back, sits up, pulls Logan into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just - I am not in the mood for that tonight. If that is okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Virginia says. She holds out a hand, and Logan takes it. Virginia kisses the back of it before settling herself on the couch. “I am so proud of you for expressing a boundary and telling me you were uncomfortable. I know that expressing boundaries is something that we’re both working on, and you did a wonderful job. Tell me what you want, Lo. Please?”

“I would like a kiss,” Logan says. “Just one. And then I would like to cuddle, and - and I would like us to watch Luca together. Is that acceptable?”

Virgil nods. “Of course, love. Come here, hmmm?” Logan settles next to her, and Virginia gently cups her cheek and presses their mouths together. “I love you, Logan. So much. Of course we can watch Luca now.”

Virginia lays an arm along the top of the couch, allowing Logan to cuddle up against her and rest her head on her chest. “I love you,” Logan says softly.

“I love you too, sweetpea.”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan rolls over, yawning, and feels a small weight displace itself from her thighs. She blinks awake slowly, lifting her head and pushing her curtain of curls aside to reveal a black cat mewing at her grumpily before settling into a sushi roll beside her.

“Did I wake you? I am sorry, Galileo . . .”

Galileo settles against her, purring softly, while the ash-grey cat at the foot of the bed pads slowly up to curl on Virginia’s back. “That’s your favorite spot, isn’t it, Andromeda?” The cat emits a soft “mrrrp” before settling back down to sleep. Logan yawns, smiles, and gently strokes her hears. “What should we do, girls? Shall we stay awake and be productive members of society?”

Neither cat responds, and Logan looks at Virginia. She’s haloed in the morning light, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open, drool leaking into a puddle on the pillow. She snores a little - one, two, three snorts before settling back into a deep sleep.

“No,” Logan decides, “we shall not.” She lays back down, gently nudging Galileo a few inches over so that she can snuggle up to Virginia. Galileo stretches out, pressing a paw directly into Logan’s cheek. Logan shoves her, and she resettles onto Logan’s feet with an indignant noise.

“You can sleep by my face when you do not kick my face,” Logan mutters, curling into her love.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: r u all comin 2 the bake sale 2morrow?!

lo tide: I was under the impression that we were only providing the baked goods. Is it not for the students at the school?

soda poppy: we got waaaayyyy more stuff than we thought so we r havin a 2nd bakesale 2morrow 4 parents an stuff!

soda poppy: we r gonna need sum help with setup though . . .

lo tide: Poppy, please do not even -

soda poppy: 🥺🥺🥺 p l e a s e

lo tide: Poppy.

snesbian (snake lesbian): logan

lo tide: If I agree to stop and pick up coffee for everyone, will that motivate you all to turn out?

violets are blue rosie is me: i’m always a slut for free coffee

lo tide: I’m sorry, where did I say that this would be free?

violets are blue rosie is me: D:<

ace attorney irl: eh i’m down for it. where you swingin’ by?

soda poppy: there’s a panera p close 2 where the bake sale is!!! it’s gonna b at the morning girl’s basketball game

lo tide: Does anyone have any issues with Panera coffee?

violets are blue rosie is me: nah. large iced coffee, add three ounces of half and half, two pumps of sugar syrup, two pumps of vanilla, and caramel drizzle.

ace attorney irl: complicated bitch much?

violets are blue rosie is me: why must the cain instinct betray me like this

ace attorney irl: the cain instinct started when we stole each other’s genders in the womb

violets are blue rosie is me: this is true this is true but you’re still a bitch

ace attorney irl: large hazelnut coffee, two sugars, please

snesbian (snake lesbian): large dark roast, black

soda poppy: medium decaf coffee, two ounces of almond milk, and two pumps of sugar syrup!

gin(ny) and tonic: large caramel latte

lo tide: You . . . are going to ride in the car with me to pick up the coffee, we can order our own coffees. I do not need your order, love.

lo tide: But I appreciate the information <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

“We come bearing gifts,” Virginia announces loudly. “And by gifts, I mean we bought a baker’s dozen of cinnamon crunch bagels for everybody.”

“Well, there are twelve cinnamon crunch bagels and one plain bagel, bagged separately, for me,” Logan corrects, expertly balancing two coffee trays with a bagel container. “Also, we made more brownies.”

Poppy looks up from where she’s instructing two high-schoolers on how to hang a sign properly and grins, waving brightly. Jan is leaning on the table, hand on her head, sipping at a water bottle.

“Vodka or whiskey?” Logan asks dryly, handing over Jan’s black coffee. Jan blinks at her, flips her off, and drains a long swig from her cup.

“Water. Partied a little too hard with Remy last night, and now I’m hungover as shit.”

“We suspected as much, which is why we brought you an extra coffee.”

“Lifesaver,” Jan says, knocking back another long drag of coffee before taking a sip of her water bottle. (Logan suspects the bottle is actually Poppy’s, due to the sun-shiney stickers plastered all over it.) “You and Poppy both. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll gut you like a fish."

“No, you won’t,” Logan says, turning to hand Rosie and Remus their respective drinks. “You never do.”

Jan flips her off, but Virginia comes up behind her and leans her forehead against her shoulder. Logan turns, kissing her forehead, and smiles.

Life is good today, she thinks. Life is good.

(screen names!

virgin -> gin(ny) and tonic; ginny <3 = virginia (virgil)

lo tide = logan

snesbian (snake lesbian) = jan (janus)

soda poppy = poppy (patton)

ace attorney irl = remus

violets are blue rosie is me = rosie (roman) (thanks to @rosesisupposes for letting me borrow your screen name for this!)

[scottydelacruz]

Welcome. You must stretch before you dance read this.

Nandor is looking so sad. I feel it. I also feel Guillermos desperation.

Colin Robinson trying to prod and then being burned is a brilliant moment.

Lazlo reacting to being dissed is me when I get called heartless or scary. "Thank you".

Nandor is following the traditional routes to deal with depression I see. Longing. Sex. A brief moment of joy. And then, the slumber.

WTF is that thotty outfit Nandor. You look like your mom bought you a Halloween costume that's too big for you.

Colin, this is a brilliant idea. Lie your arse off. I hope it works.

The first vampire is not an important person? Damn that's rough.

Wait, is it actually Colin's 100th. How is it only 100. I thought he would be much older.

Lazlo and Colin are best friends and I love that for them.

He even knows that the Hamster Dance is his favourite song. Platonic love right there.

I recognise Dominicas' actor but I cannot think of his name it. It's the evil guy from Alvin and the Chipmunks. He was in Megamind too I think as Minion. I gotta search that up.

DAVID CROSS MAH MAN!

OH MY GODS OH MY GODS OH MY GODS. ITS BULLOCK. ACTUAL FUCKIN DETECTIVE BULLOCK. THE TRAILER PARK TRASH FROM THEORY OF A DEADMANS BEST SONG. DETECTIVE MURPHY MY MAN.

I love Donal Logue. He is great. He has a trans daughter and we love that so much he is so accepting. I love Nadja being so fangirly too.

Donal just 'going with the lifestyle' is honestly such a powerful and relatable statement we love.

Chicken buggies with spaghetti is such a good meal I want it in my mouth now. Fuck ranch though.

Vampires turn to ash when they die normally. It's not very often we have seen an actual vampire corpse. Like what is she hoping to see.

Guillermo. You have seen one of the most impressive penises in the vampiric world. Care to explain?

Guillermo having a scared gay crisis in the corner while they decide if Nandors member is average is just such feeding for the ship. Nandermo is the queer ship on TV RN and they just keep on getting fed.

Lazlo speech? Lazlo speech. A dull man who we love very much.

Awwwwwwwwwwwww Lazlo loves Colin. Platonically. I hope. Their friendship is adorable.

OH NO! GODS NO! NOT COLIN! DON'T TAKE MY BOY.

I don't want Colin to go. He's my keychain for a reason.

Young, dumb, and full of cum. Yes Colin, you truly are. ;).

Oh that is disgusting. I am so sorry Colin Robinson. I will miss you dearly.

I will be in mourning for the rest of this week. Tears will be spilled (internally).

[lemonwritesstuff]

safety pin (ow highschool au)

summary: jesse and genji make a promise to each other and maybe, this time, two wrongs will make a right. read it on ao3

a/n: this is very based off the song safety pin by 5 seconds of summer bc im on a mcgenji and old 5sos kick rn. Featuring an american high school written by a british first year college student. Also jesse and hana are jack and gabes kids ok good cool also genji is trans and lucio is enby ok bye 

genji and jesse use he/him, hana uses she/her and lucio uses he/they

Ships: mcgenji, a sprinkling of bunnyribbit and background reaper76

word count: 1.2k (this is the longest fic i’ve ever written holy shit)

tw for mentions of transphobia and gender dysphoria/ self deprecating talk

Jesse just wanted to get to his locker. But instead, he was greeted with a crowd of people shouting horrible things at someone. Upon further investigation, he saw two people being targeted. And when the taller boy saw the green, he knew it was Genji and Lucio. 

Genji could usually stand up for himself, so why wasn’t he? 

Before anything could happen physically, the vice principal, Jack Morrison, appeared with his husband and head of phys ed, Gabriel Reyes, in tow. They were the teachers in charge of the GSA and they were also Jesse’s parents. They both knew how much Genji meant to Jesse, and how much Lucio meant to Genji so they were always first to take their side whenever anything happened to them.  

“Get to class, all of you!” Jack shouted, his voice laced with anger but also an attempt to stay professional. Gabe weaved through the crowds in an attempt to get them to disperse, before he caught the dickheads responsible.

“Principal's office. Now” Gabe scowled, his voice also laced with anger.

 As the crowd cleared, Jack spotted Jesse and Hana, worry plastered on their faces.

“Jesse, Hana, stay here.” he said, his voice much softer. He had a soft spot for any of the kids in the GSA, he’d been in their position years ago and was glad to give them the help he wished he had. At this point, the GSA was just the entire queer population of the school and no allies, but that was fine. They could all just unapologetically be themselves, without the fear of judgement. The GSA was the safest place in the school to be for them. 

“I’ll let your teachers know what's gone on and have them mark you in for the rest of the day but you don't have to go to class.” He was addressing the four of them now, voice still soft but laced with concern for the green duo. “I’ll write you all hall passes but you’re free to sit in our room if you want to. I’ll also notify all staff about what’s happened and I’ll be in my office if any of you need me.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” the four of them said in somewhat unison. Once Jack had walked off, Hana rushed over to Lucio, who was leaning against the wall and still shaking from the encounter.

“Lú! Are you ok?” Hana asked, concern now laced through her voice. She cradled Lucio’s head in her hands, rubbing away their tears. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, Hana. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I guess I deserve it, wearing a skirt to school” they replied. Being one of two openly trans people in the entire school was bound to go wrong at some point. 

“Shut it, dingus. We both know you don’t deserve it. It’s not our fault people are transphobic assholes.” Genji chimed in. 

“Exactly!” Hana said. “Now, let's go sit in the room and fix your makeup. You deserve to feel pretty, baby.” With that statement, the pair set off, hand in hand, to the room that GSA meetings were held in, leaving Jesse and Genji alone in the hallway. Genji was still processing what happened but Jesse pulled him back to reality.

“Our spot?” Jesse asked, voice quiet in order to not disturb the students learning in the class opposite them. Genji just nodded, and after Jesse got his bag from his locker (which was the only reason he was in that part of the school anyway), they set off toward the exits.

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

“Thank god I got some snacks, I forgot we were gonna have a shorter lunch. I’m starvin’.” Jesse started, plonking himself down on the ground with Genji following suit opposite him. “You ok darlin’? Ya still look scared. How come ya didn’t stand up for yourself? I know you can, the entire grade has seen ya do it before.”  Genji chuckled and sighed, before replying.

“I was already having a bad enough day with my dysphoria and I was talking about it with Lucio when someone overheard us and.. yeah.” 

“Oh, baby, I-”

“No, it’s fine.” Genji said, cutting Jesse off. “They’re right, I’m not a real man and never will be. I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to break up with me, Jesse.” Genji couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and before he could say anything, he was in Jesse’s arms. One of the few places he felt safe. One of two places where he could exist without judgement.

“Dumplin’, I know it’s hard but please never believe anything those assholess say. You’re not only a man, but you’re MY man and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing will ever change that. Ever. They’re just asshats that lack so much self confidence that they tear others down.” Jesse said softly, cradling his lovers face in his hands, wiping away tears. 

Genji melted at any nickname Jesse gave him, especially dumpling. It came from an in-joke on their first date, where Genji had compared himself to a dumpling, small and bite sized (compared to Jesse anyway) and the nickname stuck ever since. 

“Do ya want me to do anything, darlin’?” Jesse murmured, rubbing circles on Genji’s back in an effort to calm his tears.

“No, this is fine for now.” Genji barely whispered, not even daring to look up at the brunette. Just as Jesse was about to reply, his phone pinged. 

buncha fuckin misfits

padre: the dickheads have been dealt with and they’re outta here

gaymer gorl: good riddance lmao

boy scout lookin ass: those kids have done this multiple times and i’m surprised it took this long to expel them 

boy scout lookin ass: how are gen and lú by the way?

gaymer gorl: i redid Lú’s makeup and they’re back to lookin fabulous!

yee to the haw: just givin’ gen some cuddles, he was already havin’ a bad day with dysphoria and he just needs some convincin’ that he’s stronger than he thinks. he’ll be ok :)

With that, Jesse shut off his phone and turned his attention back to the green haired boy in his arms. The brunette ran his hands through the sea of green hair beneath him, letting out a low whistle when he realised how soft it was.

“I redyed it last night” Genji said, his tears having pretty much run dry at his point. 

“Well, ya better tell me what hair products you use, darlin’. Wish my hair was as soft as this.” 

Genji let out a chuckle, which made Jesse smile. He’s getting there. 

The pair stayed like that for some time until Jesse had an idea. He reached over to his bag and pulled a safety pin off the strap, handing it to Genji. Before Genji could question him, he began to explain himself.

“ Maybe we can safety pin the pieces of our broken hearts back together. We’ve both been hurt so much in the past, and we’re obviously gonna wanna be whole in the future. So, I’ll give you this as a promise, that I’m always gonna have your back and the one on my bag is your promise to me, that you’ll always have my back. Make sense?” Jesse said, pinky extended towards his love, smile creeping onto his face.

“Of course.” Genji replied. “Besides, maybe, this time, two wrongs make a right.”

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

Do your homework but also. Sasha

OMG THANK YOU!!!

my otp: sasha/living past season one and getting recognized for her talents :)

my notp: sasha/the stranger. get away from my beautiful wife

my brotp: sasha and jon!!!!!! I LOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH THEY TRUSTED EACH OTHER

how i picture them: okay okay okay this was one of the first designs of her that I saw and I IMMEDIATELY downloaded that shit into my brain and still 100% see her like this

my favorite fan art: I absolutely refuse to choose, so here are six of them

my favorite quote: literally I fell in love with her from the first fuckin line she had but also “I’m too damn curious” GOT me I just!!! she wanted to figure it out!!! she deserved better!!!! im going to kick the not!them’s ass!!!!

my favorite episode ft. them: she’s in like FOUR EPISODES MAX so this isn’t fair but also i LOVE her statement in MAG 26 a Distortion and also every scrap of content we get with her. ma’am i love you so fucking much

what song i associate with them: I was rly tempted to put ‘Unforgettable’ here but I can’t do that to her so the truth is I admittedly don’t have many songs for her but would be deeply open to suggestions!!

headcanons: trans sasha rights!!! also i REALLY like the aro sasha headcanon??? it’s so fucking good mA’AM. also not a headcanon but i live and breathe for archivist sasha

my opinion: I LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE WAS THE FIRST CHARACTER I FELL FOR IN THE PODCAST AND I’M STILL ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH HER, HOPE SHE’S HAVING A GREAT KAYAKING TRIP WITH TIM <3

how hot they are: 100/10 she’s TALL and has GLASSES are you KIDDING

[queerhargreeves]

This Brother Thing

Diego can’t stop his hand from shaking like how it used to at 18. Like how it used to before Eudora. He’s just tired. So, so tired. He reached down to pick up the syringe once more, wiping it with the alcohol cloth for the 9th time tonight, and resumed the familiar position.

OR

Diego needs help and he gets it from the most unlikely sibling. 

WC: 3k+

TW: needles, internalized toxic masculinity, body dysmorphia, body image issues, implied/referenced past child abuse

“Fuckin’ hell.” Diego cursed under his breath, his hand shaking and the bullet wound in his shoulder grounding him from completely losing his tempter with a dull, constant ache.

The man was currently stood shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror. He was clutching the fleshiest part above his hip with his injured arm and held a syringe in his good one. He took another deep breath and attempted the motion again. But not even a moment later the sound of the needle crashing onto the cool tile floor filled the still air in one of the 42 bathrooms - the one closest to his bedroom. It was 11 PM, almost 12, and Diego Hargreeves here almost forgot to do his T shot for the week. To be fair, this wasn’t your average week, even for the ex-superhero.

The pathetic excuse of a father died, his time-traveling brother came back after 17 years of being gone and returned in the teenage body he left in and he learned that said brother lived through the end of the world for ages and became a killer. And the end of the world has this week. But then his other brother was kidnapped, one of the most important women in his life died trying to save him. Diego killed his mother but his mother came back. His brother became a war vet and was gone for ten months. His assumed ordinary sister had powers and slashed his other sisters throat and she almost died in their arms. And his babiest sister almost destroyed the entire world. But then she didn’t. The Hargreeves lived another day as did the rest of the world. Thanks to the help of his now veteran brother who can conjure ghosts to be physical and his brother that’s been dead for years killed assassins that were after him and the rest of his siblings. But that’s all in their past now. Their new version of normal is all seven of them are all living under the same roof again for the time being, just like when they were kids.

So forgive Diego if his weekly testosterone shot happened to slip from his mind, okay? It shouldn’t be, well it never used to be, this damn hard. Not anymore at least. His fear of needles certainly made this weekly process hell at the beginning of his medical transition - this intimate moment in the bathroom he’s been doing since he moved out all those years ago could last up to two hours at a time. Shaky hands, intense staccato heartbeats, and hitched breaths were too common of an occurrence. But then he met Eudora Patch. And everything changed.

The two met during his second semester of the police academy. He admired her from afar for a good while, too scared to approach the woman. Diego was more than content watching this incredible person answer any and all questions with vigor and a spark in her eye. The way she bit on the inside of her lip when a question challenged her, her pencil beating against her notebook, made his heart flutter. If she didn’t understand a concept in class, she was adamant on making sure she figured it out, class and professors be damned. Diego learned how she was more than capable of standing up for herself. Being a black woman in a very male-dominated, whitewashed environment was certainly not the easiest of experiences. She faced comments daily, not just from her peers but from authority figures as well. But Diego knew he was officially head over heels for her when he watched her spit an ignorant 20 something year old out after he made a comment about how “Eudora the explorer” and “go Diego go” were to better suited for a life behind bars than on the field.

And that was how they officially met. Eudora stood up for him and in return, he bought her a coffee.

And then they went out again the next night and the night after that. But before they went on the third night, Diego needed to get something off his chest before he fell any more. He needed to tell her about his identity. Coming out is never something you do once and it doesn’t really get easier.

He practically bolted out of his last class of the week, beelining right to the classroom across the hall to meet up with Eudora. They made it a habit to meet up after class, but this time felt different and he made it quite obvious. If avoiding her for a week wasn’t telling enough, his constant leg bounce, his fingers playing with the fabric of his sweater sleeves, and the gum-chewing at an impressively fast rate was enough. And Eudora, being the quick woman she was, knew that something was up. She sat Diego down on the bench outside and took his hand in hers, reminding him to breathe with exercises she’s learned. She whispered sweet affirmations as she waited for the man in front of her to collect himself. After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally uttered the words.

“I-I’m trans.” The statement hung heavy in the air, the tears threatening to spill out of Diego’s eyes as he stared at his hand in her lap obscuring his vision. Then, a gentle finger tugged his chin up and soft lips met his very own.

“It’s okay.” She said softly, sealing the deal and leaned in for another sweet kiss. The two fell quickly and madly in love after that. Eudora would help Diego with his shots, taking his shaking hands in hers and kissing his knuckles. She kissed the spot of injection before she sterilized the area, and guided both of their hands to the designated area. She never patronized him for his apprehension, not a single time. She knew this vulnerability was hard for him and she was honored that he trusted her enough with something this intimate. Even after every fight and argument, she would never use his vulnerability against him. She was there every week to help if he needed it. And if he didn’t need the extra assistance, she still checked up on him to make sure he got it done.

However, they were two strong, independent people. Quick-witted and rash. They had a tendency to lash out before thinking, their mouths reacting before their brains. They certainly had their good moments. They had wonderful, healing, amazing moments with one another. They had blissful nights of falling asleep in each other's arms as Eudora traced the scars under his pecs after they finished exploring their bodies together for hours. They had long car rides where the two opened up about the most intimate parts of themselves. Then finishing off the ride by belting out 80’s dance songs at the top of their lungs, windows down and hair blowing in the wind. These kinds of nights made it seem like it was them against the world. It was as if these moments would never end.

But they also had equally as world-shattering, soul-crushing moments. They had nights where they only saw red, both of them quick to react to the other’s fractured egos. Especially when Diego got himself kicked out of the academy. There were plenty of eyes rolled and slamming of doors, conversations left with a bitter taste in their mouths and hearts. There were hurtful words thrown around that had the capacity to cut right through the other as fast as one of Diego’s knives, if not faster. They knew how to hurt each other. And they did hurt one another. But they also loved each other. The two of them continued to play this song and dance for years and years.

But that song was over. Dance finished. Eudora was gone. And she wasn’t coming back.

And now Diego can’t stop his hand from shaking like how it used to at 18. Like how it used to before Eudora. He’s just tired. So, so tired. He reached down to pick up the syringe once more, wiping it with the alcohol cloth for the 9th time so far, and resumed the familiar position.

He took a quick sharp inhale and squeezed his eyes shut. But as quick as that inhale was, the exhale was even quicker. It came out as a strangled groan and the syringe clattered against the floor once more.

“God fucking dammit!” Diego choked out louder than he realized and clenched his fists tight, willing them to stop shaking. He couldn’t stand himself, couldn’t stand how he is no longer able to even take care of himself right now. He should be past this. But he didn’t have Eudora to talk him down. He didn’t have her kind voice and gentle grip to help nor her nagging texts anymore. He didn’t have anyone.

“Oh, my bad. I-”

Diego whipped around in one swift motion, now eye to eye with his biggest brother. He was dressed in a thin grey long sleeve shirt and pajama pants. Oh yeah, his brother who was almost killed on a mission and was injected with Chimpanzee DNA to survive and is now three times the size of a normal human. The brother who had his body horribly mutilated without his consent by their poor excuse for a father.

“Sorry, didn’t realize this was occupied. I can, uh…” Luther trailed off and Diego watched as Luther took in the sight in front of him. Syringe on the floor, Testosterone bottle of to the side, and his brother in near hysterics and barely keeping it together. He looked as if he would fall apart at the softest breeze of wind.

“I-I-I,” Diego quickly snapped his mouth shut, jaw clenching and fists continuing to shake at his sides at an ever faster degree. He threw his head back and burning holes at the ceiling with his eyes, trying his best to regain some sort of composure. Luther didn’t need to see him like this - didn’t need to see him weak. Pathetic, inadequate Number Two.

“Hey, no Di,” Luther started as he softly closed the door behind him, “It’s okay.” He commented with a voice that Diego doesn’t think he’s heard before. At least not in a very, very long time.

“You’re okay… It’s okay.” He gently placed his hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, desperately hoping Diego believed him even if he wasn’t the best at comforting other people. But Luther didn’t miss the way his brother’s muscled stiffened under his touch. That broke his heart even more.

Luther was also tired. He didn’t want to do this anymore - the fighting and ugly comments. The two were always trying to one-up the other, trying to “out man” and assert their dominance. They have been doing it for the last 20+ years, or as long as their number rankings have been enforced. It was their idea of normal. But if looking death in the eye for the hundredth and most catastrophically devastating time taught Luther anything, it’s that all this petty stuff is useless. He loved his family. He loved Diego.

“I can help. Is...is that alright Diego?” Luther asked cautiously, not wanting to over step any more boundaries than he already has. He eyed Diego for any sort of reaction, which he was not rewarded with. He took a deep breath and removed his hand from his shoulder in the hopes that giving him some space would help.

“It’s not a big deal, I promise. We’ve...we’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” That earned a small shrug from Diego which Luther considered progress from the almost catatonic state he’s been in since he’s walked in.

“I, uh. After you came out I looked into this sort of stuff.” He paused and took a seat at the edge of the bathtub, “I researched anything I could at the library about trans related stuff, testosterone, surgery, passing, binding. After you left... I made sure Pogo sent you enough money for your transition and stuff. I watched videos of trans people documenting their transition. I’m not an expert by any means but it did help me understand you better. I know trans people have a high rate of...of hurting themselves.” Diego finally met Luther’s eyes, which Luther considered the biggest win yet and he decided to continue. He was already this far off, might as well. Apparently, this whole communicating thing works.

“I want you to know I never thought less of you because of this. And same with your stutter,” Luther added, knowing that was yet another thing Reginald and his brother berated himself constantly for, “You’ve always been unapologetically yourself. You knew who you were such a young age and you always stood up for what you believe in. And that made us butt heads a lot and I’m sorry about that. You weren’t blinded like I was. I have so much respect for you, you know? I want to be better at this brother thing.” Luther sighed and wrung his hands together.

“I-I’m also sorry I made that comment about your job. You’re definitely a lot better at this whole being a ‘real grown-up’ thing than I am.”

And that earned a snort from Diego which Luther couldn’t help but smile at that. The anxious pit in his stomach lightened.

“You’re already getting better at this brother th...th-” Diego stopped for a moment, eyes locked with Luther. And he didn’t see a trace of judgment or a hint of mockery. All he saw was patience. “Thing.”

Luther gave a small nod, a faint smile ghosted on his lips.

“And I meant it when I said I can help you with your shot.”

“I-”

“I know you’re capable of doing it yourself. But with your gunshot wound and everything that’s happened this week...it’s okay. To accept some help I mean.” Luther couldn’t help but hold his breath ever so slightly. This was more emotions and vulnerability they’ve shared in the last 10 minutes than the pair has shared over the last 29 years.

“O...Okay. You can - you can help.” Diego finally spoke after a moment. His voice shook as he still sounded cautious, but the act of him letting Luther do this for him alone spoke enough for the bigger man.

A wave of relief washed over Luther as he stood and gave Diego’s good shoulder another squeeze. He bent down and picked up the syringe on the floor and carefully placed it down on the bathtub next to him. He quickly opened the cabinets next to Diego’s head.

“Should probably sterilize this one more time,” Luther said as he grabbed a cotton swab and alcohol. In a few swift motions, he managed to dab the alcohol onto the swab and placed the items back in the cabinet. Wordlessly, he picked up the syringe and cleaned the needle as well as the area above Diego’s skin. If Luther didn’t know where to inject the red fingerprint marks on his skin certainly helped plenty.

He washed his hands before picking up the needle again and dropped down to his knees to get a better angle. He had his left hand on the area above Diego’s hip and the syringe in his right hand. Being 6’5 didn’t make this an easy angle, but he was willing to do whatever he needed to do to make this go as smoothly as possible for his brother.

“Okay, I’m gonna touch you now,” Luther warned gently placed his hands around the area so he didn’t jump at the contact. Diego looked down for a moment and nodded, braced himself with still shaking hands.

“I’m going to count down from three and go for it at one. Sound good?” Luther watched as his brother gulped, eyes squeezed shut. But still no answer.

“If you can’t say yes or no, can you give me either a nod or a shake of the head?” He pressed gently.

Diego took a deep sigh, and another one, before finally nodding.

“Okay, here we go.” Luther raised the syringe right above the flesh he grasped between his fingers.

“Three, t-” Luther quickly injected the syringe before he could even finish the word, pushed down at the plunger, and just as quick as it started he pulled the sucker out.

“Okay!” Luther breathed out, getting up from his spot on the floor and finding the needle cap and putting it back on.

“You did good, Di.” He gave the shorter man a soft smile and an affirmative nod.

Diego finally breathed out the air he didn’t even realize he was holding. He stared down at the injection site without saying a word before pulling the rest of his shorts up. Not a drop of blood. He didn’t even feel a pinch.

He finally looked back at Luther, his blue eyes and smile comforting his residual nerves. He opened his mouth for a second before shutting it once more. He gave a small shake of his head and wasted no time in wrapping his good arm around his blonde brother.

Luther let out a tiny squeak, his arms hovering above his brother's shoulders in the air. He couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden touch, not used to anyone wanting to get this close to his new body. He wasn’t a fan of this new body so why would anyone else be?

“If-If it’s okay for me, it’s okay for y...you too, Lu.” Diego muffled into his shoulder, tightening his grip to show him as such. It’s okay. It’s okay.

Luther relaxed ever so slightly and let himself be held. He slowly dropped his arms and wrapped them gently around Diego, careful not to justle his hurt arm.

This? This felt nice, foreign as it is. He loved his brother. And his brother loved him. They were taught that emotions were a weakness. They were taught that intimacy and vulnerability are things that deserved to be shunned - something they should be ashamed of. But this new, radical concept of trying to rebuild their relationships as a family is the best thing that has ever happened in their lives. The Hargreeves are going to be

[dngrdyke]

May The Best Bitch Win Part 2

"Let's go, bitches!" Dyke whooped. "Last one to the Hub has to clean up after the party!"

Poison rallied the engine. "I can't wait to beat your ass twice!"

Dee said nothing, and instead sped off without warning, making Faggot yelp and grab her waist tight.

A vague "motherfucker!" was heard and soon the Trans AM was catching up on her right. On her left, Ghoul and Cola were keeping pace, seemingly effortlessly.

Assholes.

The convoy made it to the Hub just as another gang pulled up. Dyke skidded to a stop in front of the leader of the pack, followed closely by Ghoul. Poison rocked up a split second behind and climbed out.

"I wanna rematch! You've less mass so you go faster!"

"I have better mass," she grinned, kicking down the stand and flicking her hair out of her face.

"Why'd I join a posse with a bike," Faggot mumbled as he climbed off shakily. Dyke killed the engine.

"The Fabulous Killjoys, huh?" one of the other gang scoffed. "Seems like a buncha kids to me."

"And who the fuck are you then?" Poison asked, coming over to stand beside Dyke with a hand on his hip.

"The Angels of Road Slaughter. I'm Roadkill. This is my second, Rock Machine. You gotta be Party Poison, or is it bootyshorts there beside ya?"

"The name's Dyke. Pretty sweet ride ya got there, Roadkill. What is it, a Chopper?"

"Yeah, got her from some Blind warehouse a while back. You don't have a bad bike yourself."

"Power cruiser, baby. I'm gonna smoke all you bitches outta here."

"Nobody's smokin' me out unless it's your little friend there," Roadkill said and winked at Poison.

"I think that's enough conversation for one day," Doctor D said, materialising out of nowhere. "At least while your old man is listening. The afterparty is a different story. Don't gotta pay attention to no-one at a party."

Dyke glanced at Poison, who was looking anywhere but at Roadkill, who was looking directly at Poison. You coulda cut the tension with a knife.

"Oh, hey, D, you'll never believe what happened earlier," Dyke said, seizing her chance to escape the awkward situation unfolding before her. "C'mon, let's get a soda and I'll tell you. Ya still got orange?"

He took the hint. "Sure do, DB. Come on in. I got a tape just about to hit replay so you can pick the next one."

He turned himself around and went back inside. Dyke took Faggot's arm and squeezed gently. He glanced at her and nodded.

"Jet, you wanna go over your battle plan?"

"I- yeah, good call." He silently thanked whatever god there was.

"I'm coming too!"

"Yeah, same here!"

Kobra and Ghoul followed, with Cola shaking his head and coming in the rear, saying nothing.

"Y'know, Roadie, a soda sounds pretty good right now," Rock Machine said. The rest of the gang murmured their agreement.

"Fine. We'll get some soda then. See ya later, prettyboy. You're gonna eat ass on the track."

Dyke bit her lip as she walked away, trying hard not to laugh. Doctor D looked back at her with a glint in his eye.

Poison ran up and draped his arms around Dyke and Jet. "Those are some hardass motherfuckers."

Dee snorted but covered it up with a cough. It was a talent of hers.

"Anyway, DB- you said you had some crazy story to tell us."

"That I do, Doctor D, that I do." She ducked out of Poison's grasp and lead the group walking backwards. "So I was headin' out to the Rendezvous- thanks for those supplies, Cola- and I saw these two assholes without any masks on takin' the kidneys outta some Drac. Y'all know I hate Blind as much as the next person, but you just gotta show some respect, ya know? Anyways, I pulled my guns on 'em and told 'em if they didn't scoot asap I'd shoot. They left together on a bike but they kept the kidneys for some reason. Dicks." Dyke turned back around and smacked her face into the beads that hung over D's doorway. She moved them out of her face and went straight to the kitchen- the only place with a working refrigerator. She took out an orange soda and cracked it open. Everyone else just stood, watching her.

"What? Somethin' on my face?"

"Dyke... Like, no offence or whatever, but how in the hell are you still alive?" Faggot asked. His eyes were huge, as if her head would explode at any second.

"DB my good friend, I'd bet my left arm that you just had a clap with Scarlet Ripper and the Mongoose," D said, running a hand through his hair.

"Those freaky-ass motherfuckers you were talkin' about earlier? Then why ain't I dead?"

"You musta got lucky," he sighed. "I gotta go tell the world to start showin' up. You gonna choose a tape?"

She chugged her soda and tossed the can into the trash. "I nearly died today. Of course I'm gonna choose the fuckin' tape."

"And it's Doctor Death-Defying back at you desert-dwellers with a whole new tape. But first, a drag race update from our very own DB."

Dyke's eyes widened and D motioned to the mic. Go crazy, he mouthed.

She grinned.

"Well hello there, desert kings, queens and everything in between. Tonight's gonna be a clear night with a high chance of road dust. Anyone willing to eat my shorts in the drag race better hurry up and get here, else someone'll take your spot. So far we have tension brewing 'tween the Killjoy squads and the Angels' racers. Who knows what's gonna happen next? Not me, but 'til then, here's Quiet Riot to keep ya kickin'."

D loaded the tape and set it playing.

"Not too bad for a first-timer."

She shrugged. "Sometimes you want the attention. I'm gonna go take a smoke break, see who else is here. We should get goin' soon."

Outside, the Angels were milling around on their bikes with some sodas.

"Hey! Dyke, wasn't it?" Roadkill jogged over to her.

"That's me," she said lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "You need somethin'?"

He scratched the top of his greasy, black hair. Roadkill sure lived up to his name.

"Party Poison he, uh... he knows I was just dicking around, right? Well, kinda, anyway. Mostly."

"Probably. He's not pissed or anything, if that's what you're worried about. He just hasn't had anyone 'cept the mirror flirt with him in a while."

"Ah," he said and nodded, then "can I bum a smoke?"

She said nothing, but instead drew out the pack and offered it to him.

"Hey, thanks. You know you look like him though, right?"

"Long story. Might tell you one day."

"Hey, Dee! Doc says we're ready to go!" Faggot yelled out a window.

"You two gonna come out and watch?"

Dee knew from experience that he had the Girl scooped up in his arms and was making faces at her.

"Be right there. Oh, and Jet says to meet him out back with the bike."

She stubbed out the cigarette under her foot. "You comin' to the afterparty?"

"Wouldn't miss it, DB."

Jet was standing with his arms crossed when Dyke rounded the corner, pushing the bike.

"Poison wanted me to ask you if Roadkill was being serious. He said he has a nice butt."

"Kinda serious. He would. It could happen."

"God-fucking-damn it."

"Racers!" the crackly sound of Doctor D's PA system came towards them. "If your bedazzled ass isn't at the starting line, go put it there or get it kicked out."

"My ass isn't even bedazzled..."

"C'mon, Jet. We got a race to win."

They took their places at the starting line, Jet with his lanky frame scrunched up behind Dee. She had the motor running and her legs on either side of the bike for balance. Doc had better start the party soon, she thought.

She scanned the crowds lining the track and saw Faggot with the Girl on his shoulders. He grinned and waved, then took the Girl's hand and waved with that.

She smiled.

"Alright racers, I want a nice clean match. No bashing, slashing or body flashing, ya hear? And that includes you audience members, too. We don't care how well God has made you- this is a road race. Save it for the afterparty! But I think that's all an old man like me's gotta say so... On your marks!"

Dyke snapped back into reality and tensed her legs. A few of the racers revved their engines. Road Kill caught her eye and winked.

"Get set!"

She flexed her fingers and tightened her grip on the handlebars. For her, driving gloves weren't just a fashion statement.

A foghorn sounded and Dyke kicked off. "Heads down, elbows tucked in, DB and Jet Star take an early lead," the Doc's voice came over the roar of engines. "But look's like Party Poison and the Kobra Kid are close behind. Damn! Road Kill and Rock Machine leading by a hair."

"We need more speed!" Jet shouted in her ear.

"No fuckin' shit!" She sped up, taking back her spot. No way was she losing to some short, ratty-ass clown. Or Poison either, for that matter.

"Nice view, Dyke! You steal Poison's ass, too?"

"Jet, honey?"

"Yeah?"

"You remind me to break his nose at the afterparty."

"Sure thing, Dee."

She pressed harder on the accelerator. "C'mon. Please. Carla, if you can hear me..." she mumbled.

The bike, against all odds, against all the laws of physics, went just that much faster.

"Holy shit!" Jet shouted. "Dee, we- Dee! We're gonna die!"

"No way, Jet Star! We're gonna win!"

They could still hear Doctor D's voice narrating the race, but quieter now as they sped further away. "And that's DB with Jet still in the lead! I didn't know her bike could even go that fast- but don't tell her that, else I'll lose the use of my remaining working limbs."

"We almost there, Jet?"

Dyke was trying to focus on keeping the bike going as fast as possible. Sure, she had here eyes on the road, but it was a kind of tunnel vision. She didn't care about anything that wasn't directly in front of her.

"Not sure... maybe- yes! I can see someone with a flag!"

Dee whooped. The engine whined.

"Shit, will we make it?"

"If we believe, Jet! Just pray and don't stop 'til we cross that line!"

Sure enough, Jet started to mumble something. Whether he was praying or cursing her, Dyke didn't know.

She couldn't speak Spanish.

She saw Road Kill out of the corner of her eye and her face hardened. They were so close. She could almost taste it.

A rush of colour. The flag was waved. They did it. They did it!

She screamed. "Jet! Jet! We did it! WE DID IT!" She gently lifted the accelerator and braked hard to skid to a stop. Down went the kickstand.

"Did we do it?" she asked doubtfully, looking between Jet's face and the person with the flag.

"Only one way to find out, Dee. We gotta wait for the rest of 'em."

The Trans Am and Road Kill's Chopper had come in neck and neck, while someone riding solo came in just before them. The only people the two had been keeping an eye on were Road Kill and Poison. Other than that- who knew?

The crowd at the starting line started to make their way to the finish. Some people had spread out along the track, but most had stayed at the start where they could see everything that was going on.

"Alright, alright, simmer down you folks."

Doctor D spoke through a megaphone. Where the hell was he getting all this stuff?

"After careful consultation with our flagboy V, it would appear that Dyke and Jet Star have stolen the scene and come in first place!" There was a mix of cheering and groaning from the crowd as accessories were exchanged. Faggot ran up with the girl on his hip and threw an arm around Dee.

"I knew you could do it, you old bitch!"

"Hey! Poison's older than I am!"

"Dee! Dee!" the Girl giggled, clapping.

"Now that first place is settled, in second place we have Maximum Voltage, riding solo."

The crowd clapped half-heartedly. Nobody knew who this Max guy was.

"Wait... Maximu-?" Dee started. She was cut off by the Doc shushing the crowd again. The flagboy whispered in his ear.

"And in an exciting turn of events, in third place is Party Poison and the Kobra Kid tied with Road Kill and Rock Machine!"

More accessories were exchanged. Dyke was even sure she saw masks being swapped.

"Yeah, yeah, all prizes will come in due time, but for now I think we all just need to party."

Dee and Jet were swarmed with people congratulating them, and all thoughts of Maximum Voltage were pushed from her mind.

"We did it, Dee. I can't believe we actually did it!"

"Fuck, me neither! Hey- careful, these pins are sharp. To the afterparty!"

[alternimundi]

alternate characters as songs from revenge cuz im bored

1. helena: ignasius. gerard wrote this about the guilt he felt over his beloved grandmother’s death, and i could see ignasius feeling the same way abt his mom. (and another person eventually. :’) ) 

2. give em hell, kid: cyrus. picked by a higher power to be revived and wreak havoc on the world. lowkey makes a deal with the devil. kills people. would probably vibe with new orleans

3. to the end: ugh that’s hard because none of them are emo enough. eleni is the only one that seems capable of that level of drama besides dejan but i do think it suits eleni better. no particular reason but the deception of the highly feminized woman kinda seems like her

4. you know what they do to guys like us in prison: ...avery. do i really have to say avery? that dumb bastard would have so much fun singing this stupid song. also, it’s kind of silly and ridiculous but it was written to help a certain mx way come to terms with their internalized homophobia. its using an abstract situation to deal with very close emotions. sounds familiar

5. i’m not okay (i promise): emi, but not for the content of the song necessarily? it’s the only song that doesn’t fit into the demo lovers’ revenge narrative, which fits emi. she’s very independent and subversive but in a way that emphasizes kindness. also, the music video. 

6. the ghost of you: amelie, for the video and for the lyric ���all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me (if i fall)” because it’s double sided. she successfully made sure her parents cannot follow her... but she also took away any parental influence in her life, and thus has to be completely independent because there is no one to catch her if she falls (until dejan ofc, and when her brothers grow up, and aislinn. but they all come later).

7. the jetset life is gonna kill you: dejan. fuckin. bashara. “slip into the tragedy/you’ve spun this chamber dry.” hes an empath who uses his powers to manipulate people into Slipping Into The Tragedy while meanwhile exhausting his inner emotional self. also the whole narrative of being ruined by fame

8. interlude: i’m tempted to just Leave This One Out but it is really pretty... it reminds me of when Aziri dies and is likely thinkin of Sami and the kids :’(

9. thank you for the venom: none of them are good enough. actually i think that this is malaiya’s song. “I’m just the way that the doctor made me” is a trans lyric but it also obviously applies to the girl brainwashed by evil doctors. and it would be cool if “the doctor” was another epithet of death. “im not much a poet but a criminal” is also just. such a good lyric for someone who’s supposed to be saving lives but instead is scamming and killing people. also “gimme all your poison and gimme all your pills” !!!! also i think malaiya might be trans now

10. hang em high: oooo fuck this one’s hard. i think anusha even though she’s enby just because of the line “That girl's not right in the brain!!!!”. somebody analyzed this song saying its about the female demo lovers’ time in hell and how even death couldn’t stop her from being a badass that everyone simultaneously fears and is impressed by. i think that’s pretty much what anusha is about. she also kinda shares tyftv with malaiya 

11. it’s not a fashion statement it’s a fucking deathwish: rami. ramiramirami. perhaps only because of the lyric “i’ve lost my fear of falling, i will be with you, i will be with you!”. also “this hole you put me in wasn’t deep enough”. so much of his arc is about fear and embracing who he is as well as realizing that he has a limited amount of time to Be Alive. that also makes the first line (you get what everyone else gets--you get a lifetime) pretty significant. idk it’s similar to The Song That Makes Me Cry without being quite as emotional and somewhat more uplifting. 

12. cemetery drive: oof. lowkey? basil. he has a rough time with the death of his parents, but also he has a lot of issues with self image and trying to use his words in a way that’s productive rather than harmful. “singing songs that make you slit your wrists, it isn’t that much fun”. also i think he’s sort of jaded that he likes vivaan as much as he does and moreso he believes vivaan only likes him because he views basil’s attention as a sort of conquest, which definitely speaks to the line “if you want i’ll keep on crying/did you get what you deserve/is this what you always want me for?”. like he’s proud he’s the one who got basil ghorbani to experience An Emotion

13. i never told you what i do for a living: come on. come ON. you knoooow this is ari’s fucking song. it hurts so bad, and it’s clinging so hopelessly to the thought of a happy future. this is the song version of “in another life, we could be happy”--and even if that’s ignasius’ quote, it’s ari’s lived reality as he watches the man he loves turn into a fucking mass murderer tyrant. “i can’t clean the blood of the sheets in my bed”--he didn’t put it there, but he has to live with it nonetheless. the “we’ll love again, we’ll laugh again, we’ll cry again, and we’ll dance again” that comes right before that... those are the words of someone who Knows that this life has nothing left for him. reincarnation exists in arizhivas and at this point it’s all that he can hope for. “touched by angels though i fall out of grace” is kind of more an ignasius lyric but like... it takes on a whole different meaning if you ask Who the angel is that he is referring to. ignasius is an angel... but love can’t save you. but... that whole part where he just screams “i tried” over and over and over again... that’s ari, man

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Dawson Grace

Story Post; I’m real proud of this one. :-)

After two days at APID, Nathan's sprain was starting to feel like it was almost healed. He walked on it a bit during the day but at night he was told the wolf would limp around his room looking for food. The guards on duty in his ward were given a small supply of food to toss in for him but ultimately it wasn’t enough to sate his appetite and he woke up very hungry every day. Reid had examined his neck wound when it had needed new dressing and it was confirmed as an animal bite, likely a wolf. Any deeper, and it could have been fatal. But it was healing fast so he didn’t have to worry about it. Reid had also had the chance now to look at Nathan in his wolf form and on the second morning, he had information he needed to divulge to the Kindergarten teacher. Nathan brought his breakfast up to Reid's office with him because he couldn’t believe how hungry he was now that the wolf couldn’t hunt. “Can you believe I was trying to transition into vegetarianism before I was bitten?” Nathan asked, picking up a piece of bacon off his bacon pile of a plate and shoving it in his face.

“Everyone always says they're trying to go vegetarian,” Reid said. “It's when they actually are that counts… And even then, it's a lost cause. This world is doomed regardless of what we eat now… Anyway, I'd like to talk to you about something rather unusual that I observed about you as the wolf.” “Okay,” Nathan said, trying to ignore the doctor's nihilistic statement. “Are you aware that when you become the wolf…” Reid said pulling up pictures on his computer. “…you also become female?” Nathan frowned. “I'm sorry… What?” “A guard noticed it the night before so last night after your transformation, we sedated you and took a proper look,” Reid said, turning his monitor for Nathan to see. They were close up photographs of the wolf's genitalia and chest. “Your wolf form is female.” Nathan's eyes widened. “You've got to be kidding… That's me?” “Aye.” “So you took pictures of my private parts?” “To show you. You understand that at this time, you were an animal.” “Wolf or not, I'm still a human with privacy rights!” “Except that you aren’t human in your wolf form. That's biology.” Nathan put his head in his hands, completely irritated. “…So you're trying to tell me that when I become the wolf, I become a girl?” Reid rolled his eyes. “Yes, you develop a vagina. Nathan, you need to calm down. So far, this has proved inconsequential, however it does give us more information about your condition and raises more questions. Like ‘Why do you become female?’ ‘Is this standard for werewolves?’ ‘Does this have something to do with the female that attacked you the other night?’ It's a lead, Nathan.” “Reid, I'm a lot more concerned with the fact that I have a literal sex change every night the moon wants to fuck me up!” Nathan said standing up. “Nathan. You need to sit down and calm down,” Reid said in a serious tone. “You have lycanthropy. You should be more concerned with the fact that you become an animal than that you swap sexual organs. What's in your pants doesn’t define who you are.” Nathan rolled his lips and sat back down crossing his arms. He'd forgotten he was talking to a transgender man. “…I'm sorry, Reid.” Reid waved it off. “Now, I understand your frustration but you shouldn't fret. We’re still just trying to help you.” “…Have you updated my case worker yet?” Nathan asked. “I sent out a report earlier this morning,” Reid said. “It wasn’t graphic, if that's your concern.” Nathan shook his head. “It's fine… At least… Now I know what Dax was trying to say before…” “Dax?” Reid asked. “Who, Dax Olivier? The teacher?” “Yeah, I slept over at his place the other day and he thought I was trans because he said he didn't see a dick on the wolf,” Nathan said. “You slept over?” Reid's eyebrows bounced. “It's not like that!” Nathan quickly snapped. “We went to another teacher's place for dinner because apparently we'd be teaching his kids and his…nibling. But I turned into the wolf when Dax was driving me home so he took me to his place because he didn’t want to leave me alone at my house or something like that… He didn’t get hurt because I was still injured so the wolf was really chill around him, I guess…” “Sounds like he likes you,” Reid said. “He doesn’t! We just met!” “Why else would he look at your genitals?” “You took PICTURES of my genitals.” “I'm a doctor. Dax is a teacher. And he probably does like you because I already told you, everybody probably wants to fuck you just a little bit because of the pheromones.” “I really don’t need to hear that…” Nathan said. “I'm not looking to date anyone.” “Understandable considering how your last relationship ended,” Reid commented. “Don’t talk about Hugh,” Nathan said. “I never want to think of that again.” “Well, luckily the quarter should have ended last night,” Reid said. “You can go home and do all the dating you want.” Nathan pulled out his phone and checked his moon cycles. “You're right… But I'm still not dating. I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.” “Such a lonely existence for a werewolf…” Reid hummed. “If only someone shared your affliction… Oh, right! Your werebear friend! He's very attractive.” “He kidnapped me!” Nathan snapped. “Did he though?” Reid said. “I had a chance to speak with him when I was stitching up that nasty gash on his face. Claims you did it, and you're an ungrateful little bastard who'll get yourself killed without him watching over you.” “He lied about his name. He's clearly a liar. And a criminal.” Nathan crossed his arms. “He ate people.” “Allegedly,” Reid said. “You should talk to him.” “I plan to,” Nathan said. “I need answers. Do you know where they're keeping him?” “Yes, he's in holding. You'll need a visitor's pass,” Reid said. “High security. Considered dangerous.” “And you want me to date him,” Nathan said. “Just because he's considered dangerous doesn’t mean he is,” Reid huffed. “Off you go then. I'll send a request for them to get you the pass once you're down there.” “What floor?” Nathan asked. “B15,” Reid said. “Code 1315.” “Thanks…” Nathan got up carefully, still a little wobbly on his feet from the sprain. “Whoa, are you good?” Reid asked. “Want your crutch?” “I'll just bring it with me…” Nathan said picking up the crutch and carrying it. He left the doctor's office and went to the elevator to take it down. He wondered if B15 was the lowest floor. The elevator only had a few surface level buttons, and then all the basement floors had to be punched in, some with codes, so Nathan hadn’t a clue how deep the facilities actually went considering every floor after B10 needed a code. When the elevator clunked to a halt and opened to B15, Nathan got out and was met with a small room with a security desk in a cage. “Name,” the guard at the desk asked. “Nathan Cassidy.” A visitor’s pass on a lanyard was pushed through a slit in the cage and Nathan took it and placed it around his neck. A steel door opened beside the cage. “Visiting room, third on the left. Room 1503. Do not enter any other rooms,” the guard said. “Okay. Thank you,” Nathan said, a little surprised at how fast Reid had gotten him the visitor's pass. “Call me.” Nathan blinked then looked at the guard who pointed to the visitor's pass. Flipping it over, he saw a note with a phone number on it. He blushed and just hurried along through the door. Three doors down and he was in the right spot. He walked in a found a very small room with glass divider down the middle through a table with a microphone and chair on either side. No one else was in the room yet so he walked over and sat down. After a few moments of waiting, there was a loud buzz and a door on the other side opened. Kent, or Dawson, or whatever his name was came in, glaring at Nathan. Nathan leaned his crutch on the table and pushed the button on the microphone. “…Can you hear me?” The other man visibly sighed, sat down, and pressed the button. “Yeah.” “What is your name?” “Dawson Grace.” “Why'd you lie to me about your name?” “Kent’s my middle name.” “Why didn’t you say so just now?” “Because Dawson Kent Grace sounds like garbage. Been going by Kent for a long time now. Now why’re you actually here, kid?” Kent asked. Nathan frowned and rubbed his neck. “I want to know what you know about me… Why you saved me.” “I woulda told you if you hadn’t hit me in the face with my favourite rack of antlers and ran off,” Kent said, getting cross. “I’d been hiding for twenty fuckin’ years and now it’s all over because you wouldn’t fuckin’ listen.” “You scared me. And you were holding me against my will,” Nathan said. “I wasn’t… Ugh!” Kent slammed his fist down on the table. “I wasn’t holding you to anything! I was protecting you!” “Why?” Nathan asked, recoiling a bit. “Because you’re fuckin’ helpless, you weak fuckin’ dog,” Kent growled. “If I hadn’t protected your scrawny ass, those other wolves woulda taken you out. They fuckin’ hate you.” “Why?” “No! I’m not answering any more of your fuckin’ questions,” Kent groaned. “I wasted so much fuckin’ time on you and all I get in return is fuckin’ arrested. You know, if they send me back, I could get the death sentence!” “…They still do that?” Nathan asked. “Yeah. They do.” “Well… I mean, I didn’t commit the crime…” “Oh. I see. Of course you believe them.” Kent leaned back in his chair and said something but the microphone wasn't on. Nathan pressed his button again. “…I didn’t hear that.” Kent leaned in real close the glass and pressed the button. “I didn’t kill those people. Alright? I was framed.” Nathan frowned. “Why should I trust you?” “Doesn’t fuckin' matter to me if you trust me or not,” Kent growled. “You're the reason I'm in here. You're the one coming down here wanting answers to your own fuckin' problems. You don’t care about me. You don’t trust me. Why should I care about you? Why should I trust you?” “Maybe I can help you,” Nathan said. “I can…um… I can put you in contact with my case worker, Korsgaard. Or maybe Demers. I heard he’s really good.” “Good at what? I’m an American citizen with a criminal record,” Kent said. “They’ll just deport me.” “Maybe you could claim asylum,” Nathan said. “I’ve heard of cases where people are ordered for deportation and still stay here another fifteen years somehow, despite repeat offences. Clearly there’s loopholes to take advantage of.” “…”  Kent narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” “Maybe I don’t, but my case worker does,” Nathan said. “These guys have a soft spot for nonhumans and whatever. They get that it’s hard to live like we do and sometimes that crosses the line. If you get on good terms with them, they might try to help you out. But you can’t resist.” Kent crossed his arms but then realised this disabled him from being able to talk. He uncrossed and pressed the button. “You’re sayin’ all that like you believe me.” Nathan nodded. “…I might as well.” Kent lifted his chin. “Apologise then.” Nathan frowned and tilted his head. “Don’t give me that,” Kent said. “Apologise.” Nathan sighed and looked down. “I’m sorry…Kent… That I didn’t believe you and got you caught.” “And cut my mug up!” Kent said pointing to the stitches across his face. “And for cutting up your face.” Kent huffed and leaned against the table, pressing the button. “Have you figured out what happens to ya when you transform? You get lady parts down there.” Nathan winced. “Yeah, not new.” “What that means is you were bit by the alpha female,” Kent said. “Alpha female werewolves breed only more females, doesn’t matter if the human has a cock. That’s why they try not to go after men. They don’t want mixed sex werewolves like you around.” Nathan took it in and then furrowed his brow. “…So they’re trying to kill me because I’m a man?” “‘Xactly.” “That’s… That’s crazy,” Nathan said. “It’s not my fault I transformed. It’s theirs!” “Yeah, and they’re trying to clean up their mess,” Kent said. “Took me til the other night to figure it out. I used to just pick you up and drop you back chez you before sun up, so I didn’t know you were a man. Couldn’t figure out why they were after ya until you brought those agents out with ya and I had to keep you at my place ‘til the sun.” “So you… You're the reason I'd wake up in my backyard?” Nathan asked. “Yeah.” “How do you know where I live?” “Scent.” “And you never thought to wait and see who I turned back into?” “I'm a wanted man,” Kent said. “I don't stick around for shit.” “You stuck around Canada a long time though,” Nathan commented. “Canada's big. Almost as big as the States,” Kent stated. “It is bigger than the States,” Nathan said. Kent frowned. “Can't be.” “It is. Look at a map.” “What are you, a teacher?” “Yeah, actually. I am.” Kent groaned. “I fuckin' hate teachers.” Nathan frowned, personally offended. “Why?” “Know-it-alls who think they're making a difference but are just a tool in the education system set on sucking the life and love of learning out of helpless children.” Nathan fumed. “Hey, I… Fuck you!” “Really? That’s your best come back?” Kent snorted. “You need to get off your high horse. You and I are animals, not people. Not to these guys. Not to anyone. They just want to look at us and use us and exploit us. You think they're helping you, but they used you as bait to find me and others like us.” Nathan sighed and glared at Kent. “You act like you're smart but you took the bait. Why?” Kent huffed. “I don't know why. I pitied you, maybe. Thought I could do something good. Clearly I wasted my time.” Nathan grit his teeth. “Pity yourself.” Kent rolled his eyes. “Is that all?” “Maybe…” Nathan thought for a minute. “No, when… When the APID agents were searching for me, they said their technology blacked out. Was that you?” “Oh…” Kent rubbed his chin, scratching at his stubble. “You like that, huh? Nice little alien tech toy I found.” “It's alien?” Nathan repeated. “What does it do?” “Exactly what you said,” Kent said. “I call it ‘the blackout’. No technology within a quarter mile radius can work properly. Stops them from tracking me.” Nathan looked away in thought. “You had a radio though.” “Bingo.” Nathan raised his eyebrows and looked at Kent. “The radio's the blackout machine?” “Did you even actually look at my radio or did you just hear it?” Kent asked. “It can receive radio waves while also knocking out other tech." “That doesn’t sound like it should work that way…” Nathan said. Kent shrugged. “Well it does. It’s alien. They know more than we do about how things work, I figure.” Nathan did his best to take a mental note of everything he’d said so far. “Okay… I think that’s it.” He got up but then thought for a moment and pressed the mic button again. “Thank you. And I’m sorry…I got you put in here, I guess.” He turned and started to leave. “Hey,” Kent said assertively. “Turn around. I’m not done.” Nathan huffed and turned back around, crossing his arms. “You know, you’re really rude,” Kent said. “You come in here, angry at me for givin’ you my middle name, but you never even told me your name.” Nathan blinked, and then blushed in embarrassment, realising he really hadn’t even thought about that. He leaned down to push the button again. “It’s Nathan. Nathan Cassidy. Sorry… I thought…” “Nate, huh?” Kent grinned. “That’s pretty boring.” “I don’t go by Nate. It’s Nathan.” “Whatever you say, Nate. Bye now.” Nathan pursed his lips and huffed before grabbing his crutch. “You’re really… You know what, I don’t even care. Bye.” “You’ll be back.” “Whatever. Dawson.” Nathan left and let the door slam shut behind him.

APID prison uniforms are green because aliens~

Vi: Well, I never... That’s a huge generalisation. Only approximately 14% of known extraterrestrial species and races are green. Lino: Yeah, that’s racist. And...speciesist. 

[zonebunny]

Hello, Old Girl

AKA the moment when Party Poison finds the Trans AM 

Puffing his freshly-dyed hair out of his eyes, Party Poison’s features are punctured by a wince as he hauls himself out of the deep pit he’d been exploring for the last twenty minutes or so; letting out a heavy sigh of defeat.

“Nope, just junk over here! Any luck over at your end, Kiddo?”

“Just a load of ol’ papers!”

The Fab Four were currently standing in the middle of the scrapyard that spread out from Zone 1 and way out beyond as far as the eye could see; almost touching the border of Zone 2. This huge junkyard was where everything Better Living Industries couldn’t stand the sight of usually ended up - hence why the Killjoys were stood in the middle of it. For scavengers like themselves, this was practically a goldmine on some good days; but on others like today, their luck ran out and their hopeful searches came up empty.

It also didn’t help that today was one of the hottest days of the summer, and when you were out in the middle of the desert that certainly wasn’t a very comfortable experience to be out in, let alone working. The Killjoys had only been out scavenging for about an hour or so and they were already badly sunburnt, filthy and starving hungry, each carrying a pitifully-empty sack each.

“Ugh, this is fuckin’ pointless! All I’ve found is a few shitty pieces of scrapmetal, and they’ll only get a couple of carbons each if we’re lucky!” 

A whine to Poison’s left made him squint up at the shorter figure hunched over one of the more towering junkpiles, the scarlet-haired leader raising his hand up to shield his eyes as he focuses on Fun Ghoul, who was waving his bag in the air to emphasise his statement; the contents clinking against each other dully.

“Whatcha find? Droid parts?”

“Yeah; got a few batteries and what looks like part of a hand - actually, might be a foot…” As Ghoul speaks, he looks into the depths of his bag and tilts his head at an odd angle to examine his finds, frowning in distaste. “What a shit haul.”

“Hey, don’t give up hope yet. At least you didn’t get oil in your hair…” Another voice pipes up as the figure of Jet Star appears from behind what looked like the remains of an old refrigerator, the wild-haired Killjoy tugging at his ‘fro to prove that his hair was in fact matted with old oil, his face screwed-up in disgust.

“Yikes. That’ll suck trying to get that out of your hair…”

Kobra Kid finally rejoins the group, and like Ghoul he was holding a rather empty sack in his right hand. Jet’s sat on top of the fridge, containing a burnt-out toaster that he figured he might be able to salvage some parts from and a few stray half-empty battery packs. Poison had been the most successful so far, with a handful of old records he’d found at the bottom of an old box of Murder magazines and a couple of BLI-issued blasters that he reckoned he’d be able to polish up and paint for commissions.

“The sun’s gonna start getting low soon. Wanna call it a day or keep on at it?” Kid suggests, looking to his brother for answers - as leader, it was his call. As Poison dusts his hands off on his already-filthy jeans, he glances between his friends; noticing how weary and exhausted they all looked. It had been a tough day for them all.

“We’ll finish up here for the day, then check out that ghost-town nearby that Doc told us about the other day. Pony reckons that it’s been untouched, and I sure want first-dibs on anything decent we can find.” Poison states, the other three nodding eagerly in agreement - they were keen to finish up and head home as soon as possible.

After another hour of thorough scavenging, the Killjoys finally admit defeat as they haul their sacks of scrapmetal and other trading goods back to Show Pony’s van, ready to hit the road again and explore this desert-town. Once their finds had been stashed safely in the back of the van, the Fab Four pile on into it and settle down for the journey; Jet Star climbing behind the wheel with Kid sitting up in front beside him.

With a low groan, Poison slides himself down the side of the van and spreads his legs out in front of him; looking like a broken toy puppet. Ghoul mimics his pose across from him, tucking his knees up to his chest and resting his back against the cold metal of the van’s door, rubbing the back of his aching neck and wincing.

“Fuck, I got burnt bad…”

“I got some aloe vera in my bag!” Jet calls over his shoulder, waving to Kid to go get it. Kobra does so instantly, ducking down and pulling the brown satchel up into his lap and proceeding to fumble around in it until he found what he was looking for; the cutting of aloe vera that Jet carried on him practically at all times. Kid holds out the green stalk to Ghoul, who accepts it eagerly and squeezes the end of it to make it ooze sap.

“Oh, thank Destroya.” Ghoul sighs out happily in relief as he rubs the end of the plant along the back of his neck, his expression one of pure bliss. The look on his face was almost erotic, which causes Poison to go pink and quickly look down - he could easily picture that same look on Ghoul’s face when he was doing something else…

“You alright, Poise? You’ve been pretty quiet today…” Kobra then pipes up, turning around in his seat and folding his arms over the back of it so he could see and talk to his big brother. Poison couldn’t help a small smile appear on his face at the sight of Kid - the sun looked good on him, his features flushed and tan beneath the smears of dirt and oil on his baby brother’s face. Kid’s shades were now balanced on his bright blonde hair, which was all messed-up over his forehead from working all day.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just wish we could’ve gotten a better haul than we did…” Poison shrugs, letting out a low sigh through his nose. There had been days when they’d found so much good stuff that they’d had a struggle getting it all to fit in the van to take home; it made the huddle of sacks in the corner now look even more pitiful in comparison.

“It’s alright, man; it’s like you said - good days and bad days…” Ghoul pipes up, smiling reassuringly and holding out the cutting of aloe vera to Poison; he’d burned his hand on the top of the bumper of a wrecked-up car earlier on. With little smile of gratitude, Poison accepts the cutting and smears the cooling gel-like sap over the shiny red burn running along his thumb and down towards the middle of his palm, wincing as it starts to tingle.

“Hey, we might get lucky at this place! Ponyboy sounded excited.” Jet comments, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. Ghoul laughs at this, rolling his eyes.

“Pony gets excited over everything, Starman. It’s part of what makes them so...well, Pony.”

“Got that right.” Kid agrees, smiling fondly at the thought of their fabulous sparkly friend back at the Diner, who was currently looking after the Girl while the Fab Four were out scavenging. They made the best babysitter.

“Let’s just hope they’re right…” Poison murmurs, a hopeful look in his eyes as he turns his gaze out the back windows of the van as he watches the Zones zip past behind them; dust billowing into the air in their wake.

                                                  ==============

As Jet pulls the van up to the rotting gates of the town, the Killjoys peer through the window at their surroundings in both curiosity and caution - the place sure was abandoned alright, which gave it that creepy haunted vibe that made them feel like they were being watched, though the only life around aside from them were a few scraggly stray desert cats that prowled about and watched them exit the van with wide lamp-like eyes, before scurrying away back into the shadows.

“Stick close - any sign of trouble, shout.” Poison murmurs to the others once they bundle out of the van, his hand resting over his holster where the handle of his yellow blaster stuck out. The others nod curtly before they disband, heading in different directions in order to spread out and cover more ground quickly.

As Ghoul makes his way towards what appeared to be the old town hall and Kid towards the nearest run-down store, Jet remains on the main street while Poison ventures off towards a row of old houses - by the looks of things, the people who once lived here simply dropped everything and disappeared. There were a number of old rusted cars littered about the street, so as Jet started exploring them Poison makes his way towards a house with a front porch and cracked windows; the front door hanging off his hinges.

Something had been here, definitely; but it was impossible to tell if it had been fellow Killjoys or desert-dwellers or Draculoids. As Poison carefully steps onto the first creaky step of the patio, his hand comes to rest firmly over the handle of his blaster as he peers into the depths of the house through the broken windows - or what remained of them, anyway.

Tattered curtains drifted ghost-like in the hot desert wind as Poison slowly steps past the threshold, sand crunching under his feet. The winds had blown sand and desert debris right into the interior of the house, the carpets now looking more like a beach than flooring. However, Poison spies a few cupboards that looked pretty promising and so quickly gets to work; pulling them open and rummaging inside.

Pony had been partially right; he doubted that Killjoys had been here, as there was plenty of supplies and items that they wouldn’t have just left behind. However, he had a suspicion that perhaps some Waveheads might have used this place as a pit-stop at some point once. It made sense; the town was a perfect suntrap, and the way there had been furniture littered about the street gave Poison the idea that a group might have stopped by here while in the search for a hit - those junkies would follow the sun even when it set if they could.

That would explain why so many abandoned belongings still remained here; Waveheads didn’t care for material items.

The chest of drawers Poison was now looking through was proving to be already much more successful than the scavenging site - he was finding jewellry, old photos, papers, books. Anything of trade value or personal interest he slipped into the open sack at his feet, pleased to see it gradually swelling in size; especially when he comes across a whole rack of jackets and shoes, some of which would clean up rather nicely with some TLC.

As Poison passes through to the kitchen, he follows his reflection on every mirrored surface - he felt like such an intruder into this home, despite the fact it certainly hadn’t been a home in a very long time. His gaze then lingers on a countertop that was littered with picture-frames, depicting the same family - a mother, father, and two sons.

Poison felt a hard lump suddenly form in his throat as he slowly extends his hand towards the frame taking centreplace, which was the largest photo of the lot - a cracked and faded portrait of the two sons, two brothers. The oldest was blonde, the youngest was brunette; they both looked to be no older than between ten and twelve years old.

Poison then wondered what had happened to them; what had caused this family to suddenly leave their entire lives behind, to run away. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling so odd about this - he didn’t know these people, they were strangers. He figured he was feeling so strange because it was most likely that they were dead now, and this was all that remained of them - the only proof that they ever existed…

Quickly shaking it off, Poison sets the photo down again and looks away; no, don’t think about it too much. You’re here for a reason.

With a low sigh, Poison rearranges the sack he was carrying over his shoulder and slips into the kitchen, setting the sack down again at his feet with a low grunt before starting to rummage through the cupboards. To his dismay, they were mostly empty, but he did manage to find some pots and pans and utensils that would still come in handy, so into the sack they went. Just as he loops a frying-pan to the outside of the bag, Poison’s eyes then linger on an object lying in a decorative bowl on the kitchen table; his eyes widening in realisation.

Keys. Car keys.

And where there’s car keys, there may be a working car…

Excitement bubbling up inside him, Poison picks up the keys and gazes down at them sitting in the palm of his hand for a second; his thumb brushing against the grooves of the main key. Could he really get so lucky…?

Picking up his bag as quickly as he could, Poison’s eyes dart around the room and he spies a backdoor at the end of the hallway; that sure looked promising. Figuring that he couldn’t really carry much else and that he could always return to this place to explore further if needed, Poison pads silently down the hallway and nudges open the backdoor with his shoulder, which to his delight led straight out to what he could see what appeared to be a garage.

Oh please, please, please…

Almost stumbling over his boots in eagerness, Poison sets his sack down at his feet again as his eyes scan over the garage door, looking for a way to open it. At the bottom he sees a padlock, and at first he curses; thinking he’d reached a dead-end. But then he remembers the keys and quickly pulls them back out of his pocket, and with a jolt of excitement he sees that it does have a smaller key that looks like it could work out with this padlock rather nicely…

Taking a deep breath, Poison kneels down and carefully starts to fumble with the padlock; feeling shock vibrate through his bones when the key actually fits. He then takes a step back logically, calming himself down - he shouldn’t get his hopes up, after all. There was a very slim chance that there could be anything behind this metal door…

Not wasting a second longer - and unable to wait - Party Poison unlocks the padlock and takes hold of the door, sliding it upwards. Poison immediately wafts away the dust that had clouded up into the air as he does so, coughing quietly, and as sunlight filters into the interior of the garage for the first time in years, Poison takes a careful step forward and squints inside - and when he sees the sight that met him he stumbles back a step in shock; his eyes as wide as saucers.

Under a grey tarpaulin lay a large object that dominated the majority of the room; a big, car-shaped object.

Trembling in awe and excitement, Poison manages to unfreeze as he slowly steps inside; wandering around the back of the object in an almost trance-like state. This thing was huge, and by the shape under the protective tarpaulin, it certainly wasn’t anything like the lumps of scrapmetal rusting outside on the main street.

Poison then reaches forward, grabs hold of a handful of the plastic, and pulls.

As the protective layer rustles loudly as it starts to slide off the vehicle, when Poison sees the words revealed on the back he freezes up again as if he’d been stunned by a Draculoid, stumbling back a step in shock; TRANS AM.

No. Fucking. Way.

And the next thing Party Poison knew, he was standing in front of a 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans AM. In perfect condition. Not a scratch on it’s pristine white surface.

“Holy shit…” Poison’s hushed voice seemed so loud as it echoes off the walls of the garage, extending a trembling hand to touch the bodywork of the magnificent vehicle before him; to check if it was really real. Feeling the cool metal beneath his palm, a wide slightly-crazed grin spreads over Poison’s features as his hand flies to his belt; scrambling for his communicator.

“Guys! Guys, you’ll never guess what I’ve fucking found - I’m around the back of the blue house off of Main, come and get me!” Poison hisses excitedly into the speaker, hearing the crackle of static follow for a second before a familiar voice replies through the airwaves - Ghoul.

“Oh c’mon Poise, I’m almost on the other side of town! Just spill!”

“No, you have to come see! Over and out.” Poison abruptly clicks off the channel as he clips the communicator back onto his belt; his eyes drinking in the entirety of the Trans AM eagerly, as if he were afraid it would vanish into thin air.

Poison hadn’t believed in love at first sight; not until now.

Dust crunches under Poison’s feet as he eases his way around the side of the Trans AM, not taking his eyes off of its sleek surface as he manoeuvres his way towards the driver’s seat, wanting to inspect his discovery closer. He couldn’t believe his luck; he had no idea how this family could have owned such a vehicle, let alone just left it here to rot. It was unlike any car he’d ever seen - and although Poison had to admit, he wasn’t exactly a pro on cars, he’d definitely heard of a Trans AM before - it was as almost as iconic as the DeLorean. It looked pretty similar, too, as the overall shape definitely reminded him of it.

Shielding his eyes from the setting sun, Poison leans in and peers inside through the window; praying that he wasn’t going to discover the remains of the family inside. Thankfully, he didn’t; the car was totally vacant, not so much as a child’s car-seat or a pair of fluffy-dice hanging from the wing-mirror in sight.

Poison came to the conclusion that this definitely hadn’t been the family car; it was much too pristine, unless this family had been a serious bunch of neat-freaks. He figured that this must’ve been the dad’s pride and joy, which he’d chosen to keep out of the harsh sun.

Poison then felt a pang of sadness; a car like this didn’t deserve to be locked away, kept in the dark. She deserved to be out on the road, speeding through the Zones, exploring their world…

“You beauty…” Poison breathes out loud as he spies the interior - brown leather seats, black harnesses. This car definitely had a history - one that Poison was eager to discover.

Just as Poison made to unlock the door, two sets of footsteps could be heard approaching; causing Poison to snap his head up and rest his hand over his holster. But when he heard his own name being called by a familiar voice - Kobra - he relaxes, a smug smile creeping onto his face.

“Over here! ‘Round the back, guys!”

Seconds later, a flustered Jet Star and Kobra Kid jog around the corner and come to an abrupt halt when they see what Poison had found; Kid’s expression falling into one of utter shock and amazement beneath his shades while Jet’s jaw literally drops open at the sight of the Trans, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Is that…?”

“It sure is! And she’s all mine!” Poison grins like a madman, patting the hood of the Trans AM fondly as the other two approach, their eyes flickering over the bumper of the car in awe.

“How on earth did you come across this?” Jet then exclaims, walking around the passenger side and taking a peek in through the back window. “Dude, she must be worth a fortune! Look at that condition - she looks like she’s barely seen the sun!”

“I know…” Poison’s expression suddenly softens, turning his gaze back to the car as he rests his hand over the handle; hesitating just as the incoming footsteps signalled Ghoul’s arrival. 

“But that’s all gonna change, hey ol’ girl? She’s coming home with us…”

[keziacole]

tagged by @bumbleblossoms​ - thank you! 

Tagged Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people.

THE LAST:

1. Drink: Coffeeeeeee

2. Phone call: My partner, just as they left the dentist. :( 3. Text message: Motherbot 2.0 4. Song you listened to: Been Caught Stealing – Jane’s Addiction 5. Time you cried: Uh… some point in the last couple months, I guess? Not sure when, but it was at something related to dogs. Honestly, I did most of my crying last year, during The Year From Hell, and I’m still a bit dried out.

6-92 under the cut. :)

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: As in getting back together again? Nooooo. 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: …yup. Often. Sometimes not until a long while later, though!   8. Been cheated on: Not to my knowledge. 9. Lost someone special: Yep. 10. Been depressed:  Eh, I’ve never been diagnosed with depression, so no, I don’t think so. Situationally really fucked off with things? Yes. 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Once. Story time, everyone! 

So, I generally have a really good alcohol tolerance and a cast iron stomach (not necessarily for good reasons, but hey), but I did once go to a party that ended very badly. I was about 17, had recently been diagnosed with CFS, and was on a heavy painkiller regimen. I drank when I shouldn’t really have done so, because bullshit and All the Emotional Drama, BUT… I did not know that my friend’s asshole brother had spiked my drink. (He was a peach. Gave his 14 year old brother acid once just to point and laugh at the result. Fuckin’ hated that guy.)

At some point in the evening – somewhere after the sham marriages, interpretative dance, and someone putting someone else through a table, because teen parties – I realised I was wayyy more wasted than I should have been, despite the painkillers, and I ended up spending all night hallucinating and throwing up, plus feeling horrific for about three days afterwards. 

Moral of the story: if you spike people’s drinks, you are a gigantic bag of toe lint and should suffer mosquito bites on your asshole for a thousand years. The end.

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12. Purple 13. Red 14. Blue

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: Not yet. Befriend me, tumblr, you’re my only hope.  16. Fallen out of love: No, though I have watched my relationship with at least one family member crumble into dust. Does that count?  17. Laughed until you cried: At least four times a week. Which is one big reason why I’m marrying that motherfucker.  18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes. See 16. 19. Met someone who changed you: Not yet.  20. Found out who your friends are: Yes, sadly. It sucks when you realise how effectively someone has manipulated the people around you.  21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Nah, I don’t really do the FB thing. I should, I guess?

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: See above. I kind of have a profile, but I only use it to message people I’m related to who are freaking obsessed with Facebook and won’t communicate any other way. Ugh. So… most of them? I guess?   23. Do you have any pets: One dog – Hector, a grumpy and elderly terrier - down from two resident mutts and a boatload of fosters. Older dog died last year, and I’m not in a position to foster right now, which sucks, because I miss having a house full of beasties, not to mention making a difference. 24. Do you want to change your name: Already have done/am doing! I have no real interest in keeping up with more than 80% of the people I’m related to, and I never liked my birth name, plus this is easier to spell and dictate to people, and isn’t known by the abusive assholes in my life. So, yay! 25. What did you do for your last birthday: Ordered pizza and watched favourite movies with my partner. We did The Blues Brothers and shit-talked the progression of police militarisation in the US over the past 30 years, and it was incredibly fun, despite the fact we’re 3000 miles apart right now. Also, they remembered my birthday, which is more than can be said for over two-thirds of the people I’m related to.  26. What time did you wake up: 9am, but in my defence I was up until 3 last night. 

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Talking shit with my partner, knitting an afghan, and watching foster kitten cams and reviews of awful movies together, because these are good ways to help someone who has a dental appointment in the morning try to stay calm. 28. Name something you can’t wait for: Getting my current backlog of work finished. Sooo clooose…. Promised myself a movie and gaming binge when I’m done. 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Last week. 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: Either having enough money to fix all my problems (yes, in this case, money most certainly can do that), or just being on the same continent as my partner, so we didn’t have this immigration thing to worry about. Not having a debilitating illness that fucks everything up would be pretty awesome, too.  31. What are you listening right now: Freddie King 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yep, many Toms. All the Toms. Well, like, five plus. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: Not knowing whether or not the electrician is going to show up tomorrow, which will mean I need to move the paintings and quilt top I currently have all over the sitting room floor. I’m not done piecing that thing yet. Grr. 34. Most visited website: Lots. Mostly Google, Politico, Reuters etc., but I’m living on eBay right now because I’m trying to sell off a bunch of DVDs, books, and vintage glassware. …Does anyone want to buy some vintage/antique glassware? 35. Mole/s: Yep. I had one removed from my back once. Turned out to be benign (phew!) but I got an interesting scar out of it. 36. Mark/s: I still have a faint surgery scar on my elbow, but it doesn’t look as Frankenstein-y now. Most of my scars have faded, but I still have some weird idiosyncrasies from things that have been broken or busted up. 37. Childhood dream: Writing was always my main thing, but also acting/directing. Illness took that away. Other than that, I always wanted to live somewhere rural with lots of animals, and be happy.  39. Long or short hair: Long. Lots. It’s huge. Send help. I like both on other people.  40. Do you have a crush on someone: Not right now. Give me ten minutes and a new Fet profile to stalk and I’ll get back to you... 41. What do you like about yourself: I’m a creative dynamo and I don’t stop until I fall down. I’m also proud of the fact that I’m a pretty compassionate and patient person, and I like the fact I’m slow to really anger. Someone told me recently I’m a very stabilising influence, and that was nice to hear. I feel like life can use more of that.  42. Piercings: Ears (two left, three right), nose (left). More on the way, maybe, when I can justify it.  43. Blood type: ???? I should check. I know the NHS won’t let me donate blood because of my medical condition, which blows.  44. Nickname: Zia. Some people call me Kez. One person is allowed to call me Admiral Fuckface McAsshole III.  45. Relationship status: Open relationship with my primary partner, technically speaking. Poly is good, but my planner is too cluttered for anarchy.  46. Zodiac: Aries w/ Aquarius moon, Virgo ascendant. I also have Mars and Venus in Taurus, so mooooo. And yes, I did used to do natal charts for beer money. I read palms, too. I’d still do it if asked nicely.  47. Pronouns: They/She. I don’t mind feminine pronouns, because I’m incredibly cis-passing and most people will assume “she”, plus I can live with being labelled female if it’s a binary choice, but I see myself more as a person than a gender, so I love that neutral pronouns are being used so much more now.

FWIW, I considered whether or not I was trans for a hot minute when I was a younger teen, because I used to love passing as a boy when I was a kid (until puberty at nine. Boo.), but for me it was the difference in how I was treated when I passed as male that mattered. It was the difference between “Oh, isn’t he confident and intelligent?” and “Hello, sweetie, don’t you look pretty today?” that affected me, not a real sense of dysphoria, so I decided the problem wasn’t really in how I presented, but in society itself. I have yet to really find a satisfying way of rectifying that, but I think we’re all making progress as a society. It’s very slow progress, sadly.   

48. Favorite TV Show: I don’t watch that many series, but Star Trek (especially TOS and DS9), X-Files (S1/S2), Game of Thrones, old mystery adaptations (all the Agatha Christie ever), Stranger Things, Better Call Saul, Breaking Bad… can’t think of anything else right now, but there are some. 49. Tattoos: One black and grey dotwork spiral goddess on my arm, next one coming soon (watch this space, now I’ve found an artist!) 50. Right or left hand: Ambidextrous. Yes, I can write with both hands. Sometimes, I switch in the middle of the sentence. No, it doesn’t look the same. I can also operate light switches with my toes from a standing position.  51. Surgery: I fucked up my ulnar nerve a couple of years ago by blacking out and falling on some stairs. It was melodramatic, and I lost the use of my left hand. Had surgery to correct it. I was awake but a bit sedated, and spent most of the time talking to the cute anaesthetist about chastity cages. Because... sedated? Yes. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Sadly, he did not call, though I’m pretty sure he did a lot of googling when he got home that night.  52. Hair dyed in different color: Always, since I discovered Olaplex, which means I can actually bleach my hair without it completely frying. Most recently, I’ve had a mermaid fantasy in turquoise, green, and purple, but it’s faded a lot. Not sure what I’ll do next. Maybe orange, or neon yellow again. 53. Sport: I can’t do much without turning blue and blacking out, but I’ve always enjoyed tennis, badminton, swimming, and equestrian stuff. Is hiking a sport? Hiking’s fun.  54. Do you use sarcasm a lot: Um... 

55. Vacation: Last one was to see my partner; next one will be too. So, the woods of NEPA. Hiking out with some granola and my favourite human, and spending a few days playing with shelter pitbulls. <3 Otherwise, I’ve never really been on holiday. I went on a school trip to Germany once where I nearly got arrested and, when I was seven, I went to Malta and there was a hurricane. I remember wedging wet towels into the window frames and hoping we didn’t die, because we were on the twelfth floor and there was nowhere else to go. 

I did go to Norfolk with my mother for four days after her breast cancer diagnosis. Macmillan, a cancer charity that is very worthy of support, granted her a short break. There was a lot of playing dominos and trying to convince her she wasn’t actively dying at that precise moment.

56. Pair of trainers: Converse. All the ratty old Converse low tops in the world. 

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: I have the house to myself right now. It’s awesome. I’m celebrating with homemade shiitake tofu stir fry, wontons, vegetable udon… and doughnuts. Not in the same bowl, though. 58. Drinking: Rum. 

59. I’m about to: Finish a short story, close out an editing project, format a print galley (again. Goddamnit, Adobe.), and try to finalise the running order of a poetry collection. Maybe send some emails, maybe eat the rest of those wontons.   61. Waiting for: The dizziness to go away, usually. 62. Want: The time, space, peace and quiet to focus on my work, and my health to cooperate long enough for that to happen. 63. Get married: As soon as possible, which basically means when we can afford it, because immigration, legal wrangling, and a ton of other bullshit. It’s a headache, but if there weren’t so many technical hurdles it would already be done.  64. Career: I write and make stuff. I’m doing it under a new name now, which is daunting, because it means starting over again, but I’ve spent the past few years doing a lot of genre fiction and being told my original work is “too original”… but I’m ready to say “fuck you” to that and see what I can carve out for myself. Come on, internet: don’t prove me wrong, ‘k? 65. Hugs or kisses: Ooh, tough. Yes? I guess hugs if I have to pick.   66. Lips or eyes: Eyes. 67. Shorter or taller: I honestly don’t care, though I do very much enjoy short subs. Pocket rockets are adorable. 68. Older or younger: It really doesn’t matter. 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: Arms, I guess? Doesn’t really matter. It’s all pretty to look at, but who really cares? Arms are best for hugs. 71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive. I don’t like too loud. 72. Hook up or relationship: Define the terms, yo. I’d say relationship, but the definition of “relationship” can be open to numerous things. 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Um… possibly a bit of both, but more hesitant, probably.

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: No. 75. Drank hard liquor: Yup.

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I once dropped a contact lens down the back of a gas fire and spent three hours getting it out with Vaseline on a paperclip. My vision is awful and I wore very expensive gas permeable lenses at the time. 77. Turned someone down: Yup. 78. Sex on the first date: Nothing wrong with it (and nothing wrong with sex being the date), but it’s not for me. 79. Broken someone’s heart: So they said. 80. Had your heart broken: Yes, but not how you might assume. 81. Been arrested: Nope. 82. Cried when someone died: Yep. 83. Fallen for a friend: A couple of times, with varying degrees of success.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: I try to, because few other people often do. (*the world’s tiniest violin plays*) 85. Miracles: Yes, sometimes in the form of coincidences, surprises, or the results of hard work. I believe in inverse miracles, too, when things go catastrophically wrong for no apparent reason. Or, as we call it at my house, Tuesday. 86. Love at first sight: Yes, in a way. Potential for love at first sight, I guess? I’ve usually found I know the moment I meet someone whether that’s a thing that’s going to happen or not. 87. Santa Claus: YES, DAMN IT. Okay, maybe not a literal dude in a red suit, but as a personification of the generous spirit of Non-Denominational-Winter-Solstice-and-Festival-of-Lights, he works. (I’m an eclectic neo-pagan/hedgewitch, but my most loved time of year is the whole October-February period, so I start celebrating Yule/Christmas around December 1st and don’t stop until Twelfth Night. I will take ALL of your symbolism, ALL your traditions, and – most importantly – ALL your festive foods and embrace them. In my belly. Thank you.)

88. Kiss on the first date: Probably. Unless it’s a baaaaad first date. 89. Angels: Again, not so much the literal sense, but it’d be nice to think there are positive presences looking out for us. I’d be very concerned about the serpent-like pillars of fire, though.  

OTHER:

90. Current best friends name: Aside from my dog, that’s my partner but they don’t like their details shared, so SHHHH IT’S A SECRET. 91. Eye color: grey-blue-thing 92. Favorite movie: You can’t just ask a person that at the end of the thing like it’s a simple question…! So. Many. Movies. Depends on the genre. The Blues Brothers, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert, Gattaca, Silence of the Lambs, Re-Animator, Die Hard, Stand By Me, Sleepaway Camp, Alien, Lady in a Cage, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, TRHPS, The Great Escape… those are movies I can watch a billion times (and have done). Honorable mentions, depending on my mood, go to things like Basket Case, Caramel, An American Werewolf in London, Exterminating Angel, Secretary, Gran Torino… I could have done 92 questions just on the most popularist movies I like!

tagging: I’ve been away for a few days and I don’t wanna tag people who’ve already done it, so if you’re reading this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged! <3

[tumblunni]

ALSO TO FIX EXCELLUS

Because tangeants again lol

Recognise that its fuckin stupid and bigoted to expect us to believe someone is a villain INSTANTLY after seeing that they're queer, before they even do anything. Don't spend your entire damn game having the characters go "eww its that disgusting person of ambiguous gender we should kill them because gross" rather than.. Yknow.. "Excellus fuckin murdered those people". Recognise that literally doing this is gonna make your character LESS villainous and MORE sympathetic long before you finally get to goddamn showing them do anything bad except say "ohoho i wanna be a princess". And it'll make bunni REALLY PISSED OFF because nobody wants to feel sad for an asshole murderer yet THAT SADNESS IS FOREVER ENGRAINED IN MY SOUL NOW

Seriously fuckin hell it even made the heroes look less heroic! I felt like Excellus was almost justified in becoming a murdering selfish monster if she spent her entire life being treated that way by both sides in this big good or evil conflict. Why the fuck should she give a shit if she's being degraded? Like FUCKIN OBVIOUSLY murdering people and wanting to conquer a random japanese country as a mad dictator is not a remotely logical reaction to being misgendered. But like they could have changed some stuff and made a perfectly good sympathetic villain who gets manipulated by the bigger bad because of her sad past of being treated like shit and like she feels like this is her only option to be herself. And then maybe you can reignite her hope in the world and her self esteem and moral centre and help her redeem herself and team up with you to take out the real horrible fucks with no sympathetic motives. Instead she's friggin played as THE one who's evil cos she has no sympathetic motive. Like that's her whole Thing, she's supposed to just be selfish and greedy and horrid. Your damn bigotry somehow failed your own story as well as failing all trans people ever!

Or like yknow.. If you want an asshole fuckboi then actually write an asshole fuckboi. Scrubby scrub the trans = bad shit from this plotline and you do indeed have a selfish monster who murders a bunch of innocent people and gets his just desserts. You had a ready made simple character archetype and you were so preoccupied shoving your transphobic screed into your game that you fucked it up!

So yeah i think either make this goofy ohoho trans auntie a good character, make the asshole ohoho bad character a cis man, do both at once, or like even i'm not opposed to having a trans villain exist but like seriously make them a synpathetic villain. If they're the only trans character in the plot its already gonna send a bad message if theyre in the role of "worst most underhanded jerk villain", even if it WASNT also transphobic as fuck. So a sympathic trans villain or adding more LGBT characters so it doesnt seem like this one individual was designed to make a statement on your entire feelings for a minority.

ALSO

like seriously please do not do this stupid thing of mooshing every stereotype together from every LGBT identity and acting like theyre all the same thing?? Like man i fuckin HATE that anime trope that yknow.. The gay man says all this trans stuff cos he's ~just that flambouyant~ Like being a drag queen is what 100% of gay men are, 24/7, and anyone saying theyre a trans woman is just one of those drag queens who's really getting into character. Or just.. I dunno. I cant even wrap my head around what train of logic must have led to that stereotype in the first place! And its so fuckin annoying as a queer person trying to talk about why this is bad queer stereotyping, it just makes me extra sad to straight up not know what pronouns to use for the character so i feel like i'm being just as horrible to them as their creators were. Like man i've only settled on going for "she" for Excellus cos after years of looking into it it does seem like the original japanese was indeed specifically using stereotypes of trans women and not trans men or nonbinary people. Though all languages do seem to call the character male it seems pretty strongly to be a "i believe that trans women are men and can never be women" kind of thing, rathe rthan the character herself calling HERSELF male. She calls herself a woman in both english and japanese, and its just that the english has everyone else use male pronouns for her and added the non-canon "explanation" that she only acts like a trans woman because she has something wrong with her balls. (Ugh!) And in japanese on top of calling herself a woman she also uses feminine (and specifically trans/drag queen coded) variants of "I", and other common speech pattern traits used for negative stereotypes of trans women. Though again we do have other characters calling her a disgusting perverted man instead. Sigh!

Ok ok ALSO BIGGEST FUCKIN FIX! dont draw the character like a horrible distorted cariacature goblin in an entirely different art style to everyone else. Seriously its so annoying how they tried to make you agree with "excellus is disgusting just for acting queer" by LITERALLY DRAWING A DISGUSTING CHARACTER. If you take away the weirdass overdetailed horror movie monster face, there is nothing ugly or even "manly looking" about her! She's just like somebody's perfectly normal chubby aunt or something. You could go out in any street all over the world and see five of her! I hate it cos its almost like psychological manipulation or something? Like i've seen so many lets players who arent bigoted but merely oblivious still agree that excellus is ugly and disgusting and comical because of it, cos all the implications of transphobia/homophobia flew over their heads and all they saw was a character drawn to look monsterous. And just.. This is so common. Its the overwhelming japanese stereotype of trans women. Draw them looking INFINATELY MORE MANLY than the cis male characters. So manly that it really hammers home how "obvious" it is that a man in lipstick or dresses "just looks wrong" and of course there's NO way they could ever pass and ha ha look how deluded they are that they think they look pretty. It's horrid. It really is. Seriously I like to point at Tabitha from Pokemon ORAS for a good counter example, cos he's also an ambiguously transgender character from a game that came out around the same time and by some weird coincidence they look very similar. Except for the literal entire face. The literal entire exact same face, just its drawn hideous and distorted on the one who's supposed to be a negative trans stereotype, and drawn exactly like everyone else on the positive one. And there's not one example in the whole game of anyone calling Tabitha ugly because he looks trans, or even insulting his weight or anything. Same damn character design, just drawn without bias and treated like a human being. I mean seriously right down to them having the small "evil eyes" but with Tabitha he's always drawn with them in a perpetual sort of happy face and then his pose with them looking similar to Excellus is supposed to be a BADASS MOMENT of this comic relief villain showing his worth! And hw literally has red eyes on top of it! His design is even MORE "evil" yet just not drawing it as a stereotype entirely changes the player's perception and he became beloved by many. Whereas with Excellus even the trans people in the audience couldnt relate to her and just felt fuckin sad.

Oh also i guess Excellus is implied to be a trans woman and Tabitha is implied to be a trans man? But i don't think game freak was trying to say anything about trans men being more valid or whatever, cos the first canonical LGBT character of any sort was a trans woman npc in the battle maison. And tabitha being trans isnt really confirmed as clearly as she was. i hope someday theyre able to confirm an LGBT main cast member but until then i will forever hold onto the glimmer of hope that was given to me by Beauty Nova.

Also seriously Tabitha and Excellus both also look EXACTLY LIKE ME IN REAL LIFE so I kinda took Excellus extra hard and latched onto the Tabitha headcanon so much more because it was good healing after all that nonsense. Tho I also did considee nonbinary Tabitha at the time, because his japanese name is a gender neutral one that's merely like 75% female, rather than a 100% feminine one. But then his old RSE design was very masculine so i think maybe a trans man is what they were trying to imply if they did indeed do it on purpose. Anyway i probably would have translated his name as Ashley cos it has the same "technically neutral but more popular with girls" aesthetic while also keeping the same fire pun as Homura. I have no idea how on earth Tabitha is supposed to be a joke, honestly. Tho i meam maybe he's just the one type specialist on the entire poke-earth who doesnt have a joke name?

ANYWAY thank you terrible transphobic stupid manga i read today for reminding me that i love Tabitha. And also the developers love Tabitha. And also all the characters in universe love him, like seriously the only difference between the devon dialogue of him and Shelly is that they mention the other scientists nicknamed him tabitabi. And its so cute how seriously they said it too?? Its like "our boss tabitabi,the most feared and respected genius man".

Lovv dat tabb