#and she goes on about graffiti so much and somehow links it to people being poor and not white

[percysheliey]

not to be that person who finds their family annoying but damn my nan annoys me so much 😭

[arianaderalte]

The New Mandalorian question

Up until I watched the Clone Wars NM eps my only knowledge of the New Mandalorians was from fanfic. Fanfic which tended to portray them in a good light, but also had some criticisms. I thought that was a pretty balanced pov these fic writers were presenting until I actually watched Clone Wars and realized that they were ignoring whole swaths of NM canon in favor of their own interpretation. This is a perfectly valid thing to do, but unfortunately, those fanon views are obscuring how... problematic the New Mandalorians, as they are portrayed in the Clone Wars, really are.

So let’s go over what Disney canon actually shows us about the New Mandalorians. The first New Mandalorian we meet is Prime Minister Almec who seems to be in charge of a ruling council of New Mandalorians while Duchess Satine is like a second ruler? Satine seems to have the power to run her own investigations, and the NM council meets in the palace where she seems to live, but the Prime Minister and the NM council apparently don’t need to follow Satine’s direct orders so I’m not sure what is going on there. She leads the Council of Neutral Systems which makes her regent to 1000 systems, but this seems to have limited her control on Mandalore. The NM ruling council asks for Jedi protection for Satine when she travels to Coruscant against her wishes. She does shut them down when they argue too much, but they also seem free to ignore her wishes (they also were uninterested in their children being poisoned and declined to investigate). Satine doesn’t trust anyone on the council to help her investigate problems with their food supply. Satin appears to have only a single trusted advisor left by the time Death Watch invades. They also have an actual Prince serving as their senator, but he still ranks below the Duchess somehow. It’s very confusing.

Almec, as we discover throughout these eps, is extremely corrupt and amoral. He denies that Jango Fett is a Mandalorian, says he thinks all the ‘violent’ Mandalorians have died, doesn’t care that children are being poisoned, runs a secret police who kill and torture people on his command, plans to torture and kill Satine and NM teenagers who discover he’s controlling the city’s black market so he can make money, and allies with Darth Maul. The NM council members are also unconcerned with poisoned children, and not trusted by Satine. The only lines they have are discussing how they are having to pay smugglers to get food during the war, and that one of them is in league with the Trade Federation and is profiting from their trade. Other people in power we see are a superintendent of one of the schools who is breaking the law in order to make more money selling drinks to kids, and customs officials accepting bribes, though their captain is unaware of this.

We are told that no Mandalorian would ever consider using violence, and that all the ‘violent’ Mandalorians were exiled (somehow... no explanation of how a bunch of pacifists kicked a bunch of warriors off their home planet) to Concordia when the New Mandalorians took power, presumably at the end of the clan wars/civil war. We know from Jango Fett and Sabine Wren and her family that POC Mandalorians exist. We know from other Disney and Legends canon that non-human Mandalorians exist, and that you simply need to accept the Mandalorian creed (or resol’nare) to become Mandalorian. So where are these non-humans and non-white Mandalorians amongst the New Mandalorians? (Did the writers intend to make this look as racist and xenophobic as it does? I don’t think so, but this is the way it comes off.) The natural conclusion of the viewer is that the non-human and non-white POC were the ‘violent’ Mandalorians who have been exiled. Any violence that happens in their society is blamed on ‘offworlders’ by Satine and non-Mandalorians by Almec. NM teenagers immediately call aliens they see ‘offworlders’ and are unshocked that they are involved in the black market, but are that the NM police are involved.

So let’s look at what we see of NM culture and how it compares to actual Mandalorian culture. Satine does speak a bit of Mando’a in the show to soothe a dying Death Watch member, but was it out of compassion, or was it because it’s her culture too? She says that Concordia is New Mandalorian, but also calls them Concordians once they commit violence rather than New Mandalorians. There is no other Mando’a spoken by New Mandalorians in the show, and I’m told the written Mandalorian script we see is just transcribed standard. New Mandalorian architecture incorporates a long, outlined hexagon which is also found in Jango’s armor, as do the school uniforms of the Royal academy. No other Mandalorian symbols are to be found, yet we see other Mandalorians in canon using them constantly. Satine wears elaborate clothing and headdresses which may be Kalevalan, but certainly don’t appear Mandalorian. The same goes for the armor and costume of her personal guards. Satine calls a bunch of people cheering ‘a traditional Mandalorian welcome’ for Padme. They believe in educating children, but their Council at least, don’t care that the children are being poisoned and dying which is very against the Mandalorian love of children. Their police wear un-personalized Mandalorian style armor (but don’t use jetpacks, blasters or armor modifications). Nor is that armor made out of beskar considering blasters seem to go right through it. Some of the clans still exist under the NM system. Clan Vizsla and Wren, two of the most prominent, have allied themselves with Death Watch.

History wise, the New Mandalorians do have some vague knowledge of Mandalorian history - they have exactly one mural which depicts ancient Mandalorians in one of their grand plazas, know they  used to be warriors, and Almec at least knows the ancient laws of Mandalore allow you to take over someone’s soldiers after winning in single combat against them. On the other hand, Satine calls Death Watch hooligans who do simple anti-government graffiti, despite the fact that Death Watch were part of the civil war which put the New Mandalorians in power, plus their war with the True Mandalorians ran for over a decade. They deny Jango Fett was Mandalorian, even though he was Mand’alor. And none of them recognize that the Death Watch ‘symbol’ is the Clan Vizsla sigil despite Clan Vizsla being a key player in Mandalorian history for the past 1000 years. Some of the NM’s most educated teenagers are not aware that corruption exists in governments, so I can only conclude that their education on history is extremely sparse in general, and not just on their own.

That’s all the information we’re given about them in Clone Wars: their leaders are corrupt or misinformed (and don’t care about the well-being of their children baring Satine), they have a massive rebellion going on against them which seems to include all the POC and non-humans they exiled from their planet, they are xenophobic on some level, and they don’t follow most of the Mandalorian creed, or show many links to Mandalorian culture and history.

[oforamuse]

sun in my eyes

it’s moments like this, when they’re alone and mickey’s walls slowly, slowly start to come down, when he smiles at one of ian’s jokes, when he opens up about something unexpected, something personal, when he passes him a cigarette to put between his lips that’s still wet from being between his, that makes it all worth it.

or, a missing moment during ian and mickey's summer together in season 2 inspired by davenzi’s first kiss // read and comment on ao3

It’s hot. It’s really fucking hot.

Ian’s exhausted and feels gross. Sticky. He barely slept at all last night - a bedroom with three sweaty boys and no working AC unit to relieve them sucks at the best of times, let alone during a hot summer night. He’d spent most of it sitting at the window with a cigarette, hoping to entice some sort of breeze their way.

It didn’t work.

Summers in Chicago are brutal. The heat, the humidity, the constant sweat dripping down the back of your shirt.  

It’s unbearable.

Ian presses his forehead against the cool glass of the Kash and Grab’s drink fridge, a crate of mismatched beers resting on his hip as he takes a moment to breathe whilst restocking.

He’s there for a moment, possibly longer - in this heat he can’t tell, time moves by so fucking slowly - when Mickey slumps against the door next to him.

‘You good?’ Mickey says, his back pressed against the glass. He smells of smoke, sweat and the cheap brand of detergent the Milkoviches use, when they use it, all balled into one.

‘Hot.’ Ian groans, twisting his head away from the glass and pulling himself upwards, leaving behind a smeared sheen of sweat where his forehead had just been.

Mickey eyes him, ‘Fuckin’ gross, man.’

‘Fuck off, it’s too fucking hot.’ Ian wipes a hand across his moist forehead, already missing the cool relief from the glass of the fridge door.

He watches as Mickey pushes himself off the door and twists, pulling it open and grabbing a chilled beer from the back. He presses it against his forehead, just as Ian had done with the door, Mickey’s eyes are closed for that brief second of can against skin contact and Ian allows himself that moment to look, unbeknownst to the other man. Mickey’s got a shine on his forehead that follows down his neck, he’d been unloading boxes from a delivery just before - clearly it took it out of him. He’s wearing a threadbare tank top which sticks to his torso in a couple of places, the left side of his ribcage, his upper chest, and it’s all he can do to chew the inside of his mouth to stop him from doing something stupid like moaning out loud.

Mickey’s eyes open and he averts his gaze quickly - getting caught staring isn’t worth the shit talking afterwards. It’s easier this way, he’s learnt now, stealing his gazes secretly and in small doses.

Mickey twists the bottle cap off deftly and chugs half of it down in a single fluid motion.

‘You gonna pay for that?’ Ian asks, forcing himself to look away from the way Mickey’s throat moves as the liquid goes down. He steps past him and leans his back against the store’s counter, crossing his arms over his chest, steadying himself. ‘I’m the one who’s gonna have to make up for that.’

Mickey shrugs, and moves the bottle from his lips and burps loudly, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Wanna get out of here?’ He asks, ignoring Ian’s question with a grin - which is pretty much what he expected, really, because Mickey likes to take his liberties where he can - especially when it comes to taking free shit from work.

Ian pulls a face at the suggestion - it catches him off guard slightly so it’s a quick reaction, but it doesn’t completely throw him off balance. He’s used to being caught off guard by Mickey these days. He shrugs and sighs, ‘We’ve got like an hour until we close up- it’ll be my ass gettin’ shit if Linda finds out we bounced.’

‘I can’t spend another minute in this shithole, I’m sweatin’ my balls off man.’

Ian scoffs, toes the line, flirts maybe, ‘Your balls seemed pretty okay an hour ago.’

An hour ago when he’d been down on his knees giving Mickey head in the back of the store’s cooler. It was too hot to fuck fuck, they soon quickly realised after a miserable attempt - two sweaty, overheated bodies are worse than one and decidedly they settled on mutual blowjobs.

Mickey swipes at his lip, ‘Whatever- there must be some sort of fuckin’ human rights violation makin’ us work in this.’

‘You want a working AC? You pay for it. Linda sure as hell won’t.’

‘Can’t be fuckin’ legal.’ Mickey grumbles, throwing the empty beer bottle in the trash with an exaggerated toss. ‘Fuckin’ criminal.’

Ian rolls his eyes and gets back to restocking shit in the fridges - there’s only a few more crates to get through anyway - then he can get back home and more importantly, the above ground pool with his name on.

It only takes another ten more minutes of sluggish working, the sweat dripping down his back doubling, for Ian to consider Mickey’s offer. Hardly anyone has stopped by the store today - they had a small barbecue rush when they first opened up, but as the day got warmer, customers coming by to pick up beer, ice or snacks dried up.

Neither one of them had bothered to unlock the door after they’d gone out back, Ian realises now and no one’s knocked in the last hour, so it’s not like there are people lining up outside wanting to spend a dollar or two. Linda’s busy with the new kid, so he knows she hasn’t been watching the cameras recently…

He drops his empty crate next to where Mickey’s situated himself at the counter - apparently given up on his jobs for the day a while ago.

‘Alright, where do you wanna go?’  

Mickey looks up from where he’s been flicking through a magazine, his left eyebrow quirked upwards.

‘Changed your fuckin’ tune.’

‘Let’s just get out of here.’

They gather their shit quickly and Ian shuts everything official down, dumping the cash from the day into the safe underneath the till. He’ll double count it tomorrow. Linda won’t know.

Once they step out onto the humid street, with the store’s lights switched off, deliveries shoved to the side for tomorrow and the door locked behind them, Ian turns to Mickey.

‘Dugouts?’ He suggests, tipping his head in the direction they’d take - it’s become their usual spot this summer, they’ve spent a couple nights fucking against the chain link fence, sharing beers, cigarettes and laughs.

Mickey looks at him for a moment, considering, then says,

‘Nah man.’ shaking his head and chucking a thumb over his shoulder, ‘This way.’

He follows Mickey’s lead up the steps into the station and they jump over the turnstiles to the L, ducking onto the first train that pulls onto the platform. It’s the middle of the work day still so it’s pretty empty and somehow, by some miracle, they managed to snag a carriage with a working AC.

They don’t speak for most of the ride, Ian periodically looking up at Mickey at every stop until eventually he gets distracted from keeping track. They finally pull into a station about 20 minutes later and Mickey grunts out a gruff ‘Gallagher.’ and he has to pull himself up and out of the doors before they close.

Mickey leads them half a mile or so down a few blocks and Ian can feel the sun burning down on the exposed skin at the nape of his neck - he’ll regret his lack of sunblock later when he’s dealing with Fiona’s disapproving glare at the pinked skin, he knows it.

‘What are we doing walkin’ so far in this heat?’ Ian says, though lets it trail off as Mickey stops abruptly, pausing on the sidewalk.

They’ve stopped in front of a tall, locked metal gate with a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign hooked over the top - there’s a giant padlock on the front but a couple bars have been bent out of shape, presumably to bypass without a key. Ian looks up at it, craning his head slightly to get a good look behind. It seems like it opens into a dim shady alleyway between two buildings, even in the yellow haze of summer it gives him the creeps.

Ian’s about to ask why they fuck he brought him here when he’s stopped by Mickey pulling himself up and over the fence, the muscles working in his arms as he goes. It’s a bit clumsy and when he drops down into the alley on the other side, he loses his balance slightly but recovers quickly in his cool but cocky Mickey like fashion.

He smirks at Ian, a challenge burning in his eyes and even more so in his tone when he says, ‘You comin’?’

It’s on.

Ian drops his cigarette to the ground wordlessly and reaches up to grip the top. He hooks his foot onto one of the metal bars that’s slightly curved inwards and launches himself over the top. He drops down next to Mickey with an edge more grace than Mickey did - it’s the ROTC training in him, he quirks his eyebrow.

‘Yeah, yeah okay, tough guy -’

The nickname’s said mockingly, it’s a new one for him - appearing only recently after Mickey had got back from juvie - and something warm in his stomach, something not from the heat of the sun, bubbles at the idea that he cares enough, perhaps, to give him a nickname.

They walk down the alleyway, which to Ian’s surprise, opens up to a green, sparsely albeit, field lined with bare boned trees and trash. There’s a building in the middle of it, but from the outside Ian can tell it’s been a while since it saw round the clock action. There’s broken windows, peeling paint and graffiti tags smattering the outside walls. It’s the type of place Frank and his homeless friends probably come to get drunk- or teenagers to fuck, perhaps.

It’s probably what they’re here for, honestly.

‘Where the fuck are we?’ Ian asks as they walk closer, the building looking more and more worn as they approach. They share a cigarette, passing it slowly between them with clammy fingers.  

‘Used to come here with my cousins, good place to smoke.’ Mickey says with an exhale, then drops the butt to the ground and snuffs it out with his heel, ‘Not this shit though.’

Ian pulls a face cause it seems like a pretty far place to come to smoke, but he doesn’t press the issue - fuck knows the Milkovich reasoning for things, and instead asks,

‘You got the weed?’

Mickey gives him a, of course I’ve got the fuckin weed, raised eyebrow.

He stops them at a basement level window - it’s covered up by a broken door - seemingly haphazardly placed there by whoever was here last. Mickey moves it out of the way, shoving it against the outer wall and creates just enough space for an averaged sized person to slip through the window and inside.

‘Hope you’ve got your shots.’ is all Mickey says before he drops down and slides through the low window. There’s a bit of shuffling, then he hears Mickey calls, ‘Gallagher.’  

I hope the free clinic covered the shots for this shit, is what Ian thinks as he follows Mickey down into the building, landing with soft knees once he drops through.

Despite the high summer sun outside, it’s dark inside - almost too dark, and Ian fumbles for his lighter in his back pocket as Mickey leads them through the dark passages of what he assumes is the old building’s basement.

‘Too dark for ya?’

Ian kicks the back of Mickey’s knee and he buckles, losing his footing for a moment and placing his hand on the wall to steady himself.

‘Fuck you.’ Mickey says, there’s a little bite to it but he’s laughing, a light, chesty chuckle.

‘Too dark for ya?’ Ian imitates, waving the lit lighter in front of Mickey’s face, teasingly almost.

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey tosses back, exasperated almost, but fondly enough that it doesn’t sting.

It’s playful and easy, really, to exist in the thrumming energy they’ve grown between them. It’s easy to be around each other like this, when the weather is too hot to focus on anything except making dumb jokes, fucking and sharing a beer.

Like friends, friends and so much more.

He follows Mickey through the derelict rooms and hallways, up broken stairs into higher levels out of the basement. It’s lighter now, the sun comes through cracked windows and Ian gets to have a good look around. It’s dusty and there’s broken shit everywhere, but it’s pretty much been shelled out of anything that might’ve been left behind of worth - this is the Southside after all.

‘Fuckin’ long way to go just for a place to smoke, Mick.’ Ian says, voicing the thought he had earlier as he tucks the lighter back into his jeans now that he doesn’t need it.

Mickey slows as if they’re about to reach their destination and tips his head towards an open door on the other side of the hall, ‘Won’t be sayin’ that for long.’

They walk through the opening into-

A swimming pool?

The room is huge, with high ceilings, peeling walls and unfilled space, and in the middle there is a large rectangular swimming pool.

It’s empty, absolutely bone dry and clearly hasn’t been used in a long time.

‘Hottest day of the year and we are at a pool with no water.’ Ian comments as they walk around the edge - where you’d go to dump your stuff before jumping in, past the metal ladder. His voice echoes in the empty space, ‘Makes sense.’

Mickey flips him off, ‘Guess I’ll smoke this joint by myself then.’

‘This was a fucking great idea.’

They sit on the side of the pool, their legs dangling over the edge, nothing but warm air where the cool water should be.

It’s not as hot, thankfully, there’s even some sort of breeze whistling through and it cools the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He leans back on his hands as Mickey rolls a blunt on his bent knee and checks the place out properly.

The pool walls are tiled blue - or at least they used to be, once, when this place was pristine and in regular use - but now there’s a few chipped away, leaving the walls a smattering of blue and white, it’s mismatched and worn.

Three lane dividers still hang from the shallow end to the deep, it’s hard to imagine that this place was used once, that people would come here regularly to exercise, swimming back and forth down each lane.

They talk about nonsensical things whilst they smoke, his stomach is warm and happy.

‘How’d you find this place?’ Ian asks after he exhales, placing the blunt into Mickey’s expectant fingers. He shifts on his ass, twisting to get a good look at the place.

It’s pretty fucking cool, he’s got to admit. There’s something about abandoned places, especially something as big as an empty swimming pool that fascinates him. Mickey was right, it was definitely worth the way to go just to smoke.

Mickey doesn’t answer for a moment and Ian watches out of the corner of his eye as he smokes.

Inhale, hold, exhale, inhale, hold, exhale.

Then, almost just as Ian forgot the question he asked, Mickey speaks.

‘Dad pissed me off one day. I left and I just walked.’ He sniffs, holding out the blunt for Ian to take. He’s not looking at him though, his eyes are glazed slightly and Ian doesn’t know if that’s the weed or…well, something else. ‘I kept walkin’ and I found this place.’

‘You walked the entire way over here?’

They must be at least an hour’s walk or so from Canaryville, it was a good 20 mins on the L - not the easiest walk you want to do by yourself.

‘Yeah.’

‘You come here a lot?’

‘Every now an’ then.’ Mickey says keeping his gaze fixed ahead of him, his voice is stiff, detached almost, and Ian finally, finally understands what he’s saying.

This isn’t where he comes to smoke weed with his cousins.

This is where he comes to escape. To hide.

This is where he brought Ian when he felt the need to get away, do you wanna get out of here?  

Even if it was just from the stuffy, too hot store they both work at.

It’s moments like this, when they’re alone and Mickey’s walls slowly, slowly start to come down, when he smiles at one of Ian’s jokes, when he opens up about something unexpected, something personal, when he passes him a cigarette to put between his lips that’s still wet from being between his, that makes it all worth it.

Makes all the longing, all the kiss me and i’ll cut your fucking tongue out, all the brash, insistent arms length distance between the two of them worth it.

He knows deep down, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, one day it’ll be worth it.

Mickey’s vulnerable in that moment, guard down and beautifully open.

They’re in this weird, weed, emotion, heat heavy haze. The tension is thick and Ian feels the urge to press in closer, despite the temperature, to touch, to comfort, to get them both off, perhaps, but the moment breaks when Mickey pushes himself off the pool’s side and drops down to the tiled floor, right into where the water should be.

Ian quickly takes one last toke before stubbing the joint out, holding the weed in his lungs, his throat, and only exhaling as he drops down to meet Mickey on the pool floor.

Mickey elbows Ian in the ribs, kicking things off and they spend a few minutes chasing each other up and down the empty pool, swinging off the hanging lane dividers like kids. It’s sloped from the deep end to the shallow, so it’s more work than it looks and Mickey ends up doubled over in the deep end, catching his breath.

‘Too fuckin’ hot for that.’

‘You started it.’ Ian points out, a smug grin plastered on his face because he knows he’s faster than Mickey, could outrun him too and that’s more likely the reason Mickey wants to stop.

‘Whatever.’

‘We’re actually underwater right now.’ Ian says, feeling a little high, it’s dumb but he’s enjoying himself. The after effects of the weed buzzing warmly through his veins and perhaps there’s something more, perhaps it’s the effects of them.

He feels light, lighter than he has done in a while.

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Mickey rolls his eyes, his tone is playful though and he smirks, bringing the blunt back up to his lips. He’s amused - and just knowing that he’s the source of Mickey’s amusement, he can make Mickey laugh, gives him the push to keep going.  

‘No- we are , look-’ Ian says with a chuckle, he points up towards the peeling sign above their heads that says WATER LEVEL on the tiled wall. He does this dumb movement with his arms, like he’s swimming or something, it’s goofy, but Ian doesn’t care, ‘That means we can’t breathe right now.’

‘Yeah okay- that weed got to your head.’ Mickey says, pushing himself up off the wall. ‘No more for you.’

‘Bet I can hold my breath longer than you.’

‘The fuck are you talkin’ about, man.’

‘Bet I can hold my breath longer than you can.’ It’s flirty, Ian knows it, Mickey knows it.

Ian knows he’s toeing the line of what’s acceptable and what’s not. It’s a dangerous game to play, one wrong move could send Mickey running. He’s feeling lucky.

There’s something in Mickey’s eyes and Ian wonders if the weed is getting to him too.

Or if it’s something else.

‘Yeah, yeah, okay.’

Ian pushes.

‘Let’s see then’

‘You kiddin’ me.’

‘What? Afraid you’ll lose?’ Ian smirks, he knows the way to get Mickey to play along is to test the waters of how far his ego will go.

‘Fuck off.’

They take an exaggerated deep breath at the exact same time, their cheeks inflated like they’re in some Nickelodeon cartoon.

Mickey breaks after a handful of seconds - can’t be more than 7 maximum, and Ian barks out a laugh.

‘Ha!’ He claps his hands together, ‘I told you.’

‘Fuckin’ rematch.’

‘Yeah, yeah, okay.’ Ian mocks, echoing Mickey’s earlier words. He picks up on it too, if the curved corner of his mouth is anything to go by.

They take a deep breath together again, and Mickey’s eyes are teasing, almost.

He looks so fucking good in this light, even with the shitty beard he’s trying to grow. The bright, summer evening sun beams through a broken window on the ceiling, casting a warm glow on Mickey’s face. It’s fucking ethereal.

It occurs to Ian, Mickey all playful and soft edged in the humidity and heat, at ease, that he could kiss him right now.

Wants to kiss him right now.

Wants to kiss him right now more than fucking anything.

He could step forward, press his lips to Mickey’s and deal with the consequences later. Take what he so desperately wants.

Give Mickey what he knows he wants.

Wants but will never let himself have.

Maybe. One day.

He doesn’t though. Instead, the thought catches him so off guard, distracted by the what ifs and what could possibly be, that the breath he’s been holding falls out of his mouth in a dramatic, breathy, ‘Fuck.’

Mickey holds his for a split second longer then lets out a triumphant noise, fist pumping the air for good measure when he exhales.

‘Beat you, bitch.’

The utter cocky glee on Mickey’s face makes him feel like he can fly or some shit - right out the building and into the sky. Then suddenly they’re laughing, full out body wracking laughing, it’s the weed, it’s them and they’re moving closer and closer - this is the way it goes with them, heat be damned. They’ll quickly move on to shirts off, pants down, Mickey bent forward-

There’s the bark of a dog.

They freeze. Mickey even has his hands on his belt, ready-

‘Hey! You two!’ A voice bellows and it echoes, bouncing off of the walls, cringing into their skin. Their heads snap up towards the intruder and they’re greeted by a red faced security guard and his massive dog on a leash.

It’s a fucking angry looking dog.

They book it, only stopping for a millisecond for Mickey to scoop up the rest of their stash, then they’re off, running as quickly as they can, dodging their way through the building’s twisted hallways and empty rooms.

They laugh the entire time, stumbling into each other as they scramble through the window and out onto the field.

The dog’s bark can still be heard behind them so they don’t stop, their feet pounding the dry, yellowed grass, their breath falling out in heavy and exhausted puffs.  

‘Fuckin’ asshole!’ Mickey shouts over his shoulder, his voice carrying in the muggy air, picking up his speed now they’re in view of the fence.

His voice, the warm sun, the blood pumping through his veins.

It feels like bliss.

Let’s keep going, Ian thinks as he matches his speed with Mickey’s, let’s just keep fucking running.

He could run by Mickey’s side for the rest of his life.

[jardin-des-anges]

Muses + Short Mun Bio

My name is Lana, and I’m the mun of this blog.  I’m a high school student who primarily writes horror and mystery stories, with emphasis on lying, manipulation, and physical and psychological torment, but I enjoy simpler, more slice-of-life stories, so long as there’s a good plot.  My pronouns are she / they.

Muses are right below the cut!!

Adrian Michaels - A dancer performing alongside her sister all across America.  She’s rather shy, but with her performances, she’s found herself becoming a bit more outgoing.  She normally wears darker colors.  Her resolve is stronger than it seems, and she’s normally the voice of reason in dire situations. 24 years old || Female || She / they || 5′ 7″ || African-American || Bisexual

Bella Michaels - A singer performing alongside her sister all across America.  She’s outgoing and loves people, and wants to gain friends and fans all over the country.  She wears brighter colors.  She’s often rash and impulsive, but keeps herself from lashing out at others.  Her entire life, she’s enjoyed sewing, and makes both her and her sister’s costumes. 24 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 8″ || African-American || Heterosexual

Caden Contiman - A former college student who dropped out due to a variety of factors, mainly emotional stress.  He lives with his parents and isn’t allowed to leave the house, but he sneaks out at night and stays out until dawn before heading home to sleep all day.  He studied psychology in college, which has led to an almost intimate knowledge of the human mind and an ability to read almost any emotion and action.  He’s somewhat cruel, and tends to play mean-spirited pranks on everyone who catches his eye.  He doesn’t allow anyone to know anything personal about him, but always pries into others’ lives and minds. 19 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 10″ || Welsh || Homosexual

Casey Allman - A strange writer who works himself near death.  He’s believed to be the only living member of his family, and spent quite a bit of time in the limelight during the collapse of the Allman family, which was spread out over three years.  He’s antisocial, and freezes up if confronted by another person.  The only thing that seems to bring him any joy anymore is his writing.  When describing things, he goes into way more detail than is necessary.  He has several bizarre quirks that tend to freak out the people around him. 22 years old || Male || He / they || 5′ 11″ || Korean-American || Homosexual

Charlie Patten - An assassin who travels the world, learning about every place he goes on every mission.  While on missions, he poses as a tourist, and when the job’s done, he doesn’t bother to stick around for much longer.  He’s rather confident, bordering on cocky, and can rarely be swayed to do something if money isn’t involved.  When he’s not on the job, he’s a pretty sweet and approachable guy, if always on-guard and somewhat suspicious of everyone. 24 years old || Male || He / him || 6′ 1″ || Canadian || Bisexual

Christopher Simon - A waiter living in a large city, having to work multiple jobs to support himself and his younger brother.  He’s quite cynical, which is different from his more optimistic, sweet little brother.  He only does things for money, even if it’s unethical or dangerous.  His constant struggle to survive has spawned a distaste for frivolous things or luxuries, seeing them as a waste of money.  Despite being so cynical (and, for the most part, tired), he completely changes when around his brother, washing away to show a happier, much less tense.  He despises his appearance and avoids mirrors and other reflective surfaces. 25 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 9″ || British || Homosexual

“Cian” - A mysterious chemist living on the edge of a small town in Ireland, calling himself an alchemist.  He has a love of plants, wild animals, and nature in general, a love only heightened by the dense forest behind his home.  He’s very quiet and somewhat secretive, but passionate about his work and loves to talk about it.  He can be quite blunt or uncooperative at times, but he does enjoy company, especially when the discussion turns to chemicals. 25 years old || Male || He / him || 6′ 6″ || Irish || Homosexual

Ciara McCormack - A ruthless queen whose family has ruled a small part of southern Ireland for generations.  Having been raised with a cutthroat mentality and trained to eliminate all competition, Ciara has grown up to have that exact approach to everything in her life, making her a fearsome opponent to say the least.  She’s quick to cut out anything she doesn’t need, which includes banishing or even executing anyone who even shows any chance of being a danger to her reign. 27 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 9″ || Irish || Heterosexual

Corianna Sutton - An assistant investigator to her older cousin Evian, despite not fully believing in ghosts.  She has a bit of an obsession with fire, which is shown in the burn scars and bandages covering the right side of her body.  She’s cynical but still friendly and approachable, although her demeanor can come off as bizarre.  She drinks often, and keeps a flask painted with the lesbian flag hooked on her belt. 28 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 6″ || German || Homosexual

Daniel Hirsch - A teenage street urchin and graffiti artist who is almost never seen without his sister.  He’s annoying and troublemaking, but not without a kind heart.  He doesn’t find it easy to make friends, but considers that unimportant, knowing that he’ll always have his twin by his side.  He’s more verbally restrained than his sister, but just as irritating as she is. 14 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 4″ || German || Bisexual

Evian Sutton - A paranormal investigator who explores all sorts of “haunted” places, recording them for her YouTube channel.  She doesn’t always carry around all of her equipment, but she makes sure to keep a recorder on her at all times.  She’s unapproachable and abrasive, and isn’t very friendly towards anyone other than her younger cousin Corianna.  Normally, when she’s approached by someone else, she’ll simply brush them off with a few crass words.  She’s normally very uninterested when it comes to most things, but the paranormal piques her interest and gets her truly passionate. 29 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 9″ || German || Asexual

Grace Hirsch - A teenage street urchin and graffiti artist who is almost never seen without her brother.  She’s a loudmouth with little control over what she says, and she often instigates fights, even without meaning to.  She has a teddy bear she carries with her everywhere, with rips and patches all over it, that she considers the closest thing to her aside from her brother.  Every possession she owns is stored inside of a large backpack she carries slung over one shoulder. 14 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 4″ || German || Heterosexual

Kai “Shōakuma” Misaki - A high school student often accompanied outside of school by his loyal falcon Chieko.  He’s social and charismatic, with an ability to capture almost anyone’s attention with his wild stories.  He’s absolutely fascinated by history, especially religion, as well as the supernatural.  Despite his eccentricities, he’s a good person, with a strong moral compass and a warm, kind heart. 17 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 2″ || Japanese || Bisexual

Kunimasa Sakurai - A young man living with his family while attending the local college.  He’s stuck to a strict fitness regimen for years, and has a passion for physical health, believing it links back to everything in one’s life.  He holds family and friendship close to his heart, and would die to protect the people he loves. 20 years old || Male || He / they || 5′ 6″ || African-Japanese || Asexual

Landon Garrison - A bounty hunter residing on the deep web, hidden behind the pseudonym “Black Mask”.  For a price, he can find anyone’s personal information and give it to his client.  He doesn’t socialize much, preferring to hide indoors on his computer.  When he is accompanied by someone else, he’s notably tense, and refuses to do anything that can make him seem vulnerable. 24 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 11″ || British || Bisexual

Logan Garrison - A talented painter who has somehow lacked emotions since birth.  He’s managed to learn how to adapt to any situation and show whatever emotions he needs to, comparing it to painting, and despite his inability to feel empathy, he’s able to sympathize with others, and knows right from wrong.  He’s extremely protective of his brother, Landon, and fears for his safety, knowing the dark web can be dangerous.  Most of his life is taken up by his art. 24 years old || Male || He / him || 6′ 1″ || British || Asexual

Lyrica Jansen - A wealthy heiress with a high net worth.  Her older sister vanished mysteriously, causing her to become the sole heir to the family fortune.  She looks dangerous and unkind, but despite her icy exterior, she’s kind and welcoming to others, but not without many threats towards those who disobey her.  Her clothing and jewelry are elaborate and she’s quite tall, making her somewhat intimidating to be around. 19 years old || Female || She / her || 6′ 3″ || Dutch || Homosexual

Maysilee Patten - A former soldier on the search for the people who destroyed her home.  She’s a sweet person, but her fuse is unbelievably short, and she’s easily sent into a rage.  She’s skilled with nearly every kind of weapon, her preferred weapon being knives.  Her loyalty is unmatched, but so is her ability to hold a grudge. 22 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 10″ || Irish || Pansexual

Minka Himura - A sarcastic high school student working part-time at her family’s butcher shop, deli, and restaurant.  She loves to play pranks on her family and classmates, some of which have dangerous consequences.  Although she’s quite mean-spirited, she has a soft spot for her siblings, and is a hard worker. 16 years old || Female || She / they || 5′ 3″ || Polish-Japanese || Questioning

Myla Crimm - A doll-like teenager with a knack for collecting random items.  They don’t speak much, and prefer to blend into the background.  She resides in her childhood home, which is now decrepit after the death of her mother.  Because they live alone, they have quite a bit of experience and can take care of themself just fine.  He’s levelheaded, but curious, and is aware of how off-putting he can sometimes appear to others. 18 years old || Genderfluid || She / he / they || 5′ 4″ || American || Bisexual

Onacona Pierce - A high school student and the head of his school’s music club.  He’s a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to instruments, playing most, if not all, with skill, but he prefers the guitar.  He’s easygoing and fun to be around, with an unexpected love of horror movies and literature.  They have an online presence where they perform music.  Currently, he mostly performs covers, but he’s been starting to write more and more original work. 17 years old || Male || He / they || 5′ 11″ || Native American || Heterosexual

Reiko Wakabayashi - A hardworking surgeon traveling overseas to perform surgeries for the less fortunate.  She was a child prodigy, and as such, had a lot of pressure put on her to succeed; pressure that has resulted in a constant need to do well and please everyone else.  Although she’s quite quiet, she’s fine with large groups, and loves to have her ear talked off by someone who’s passionate about someone.  She cares deeply for children, women, and weak or ill people. 27 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 6″ || Japanese || Asexual

“Rusty” - A runaway fleeing the law and their past.  He’s plagued by several problems with his health, including blindness, an extremely low weight, and a whole host of diseases.  Because of these problems, he tries to remain in one place for as long as he can to restore his stamina, but he refuses to stay somewhere for longer than two weeks.  He resembles a skeleton.  They’re constantly paranoid, avoiding human contact as much as possible and relying only on their own intuition and four working senses to help them. 25 years old || Demiboy || He / they || 5′ 9″ || Korean-American || Pansexual

Sam Fields - A mechanic working at their family-owned autobody shop.  They spend most of their time holed away in the garage, hard at work, smeared with oil and gasoline.  Most of their skeleton is metal and most of their skin is covered in burn scars due to a past accident.  They’re social and warm, and very physically affectionate.  They can be reckless, even if they’re warned about dangers. 25 years old || Non-binary || They / them || 5′ 7″ || American || Bisexual

Shira Hadley - A pickpocket who’s normally only found darting through crowds, stealing trinkets and jewelry, and before someone can realize something’s gone, she’s already vanished.  She had her vocal cords cut as a teenager, resulting in her being completely unable to communicate outside of noises, half-uttered syllables, and gestures.  Due to her constant fear of getting caught, she tends to stick to shadows, and is extremely paranoid when encountered by anyone. 21 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 7″ || Dutch || Grey-Asexual

Volya Orlov - A DJ who’s famous at several different clubs.  He’s rebellious and tough, but mostly friendly towards people on his side.  A bizarre incident has altered his body to the point where he emits sparks when he gets emotional, which is why many of his friends call him “Sparkplug” or “Sparky”.  He’s often spotted alone, but doesn’t mind company. 21 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 9″ || Russian || Heterosexual

William Simon - A child living with his older brother, who’s struggling to make ends meet.  He recognizes the sacrifices his brother makes for him and wants to help, but is stopped and always told not to grow up too quickly.  He often stays at his brother’s main workplace, a small cafe and diner, where he sits in the breakroom, coloring and talking with the other workers when they come in for their own breaks.  He’s friendly, but cautious, having been taught to always be careful around others. 12 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 2″ || British || Asexual

Zenjiro Himura - A peculiar man whose family has owned and operated a combination butcher shop, deli, and restaurant in the heart of Kotohira, Kagawa for generations.  He’s the eldest of sixteen siblings, all living and working with their mother.  He’s approachable and friendly, but has a knack for getting excited over extremely macabre and disturbing things.  As the oldest brother, he has an instinct to protect and care for anyone younger or weaker than he is. 26 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 9″ || Japanese || Pansexual

[fluidityandgiggles]

Dalton Big Bang day 43 - Valentine

Writing Masterpost, AO3 Link

Notes: Also known as: Gigs tries to write jogan giving their son The Talk and failing miserably due to being a useless asexual.

One day. One fucking day. I'll write a full next gen fic, with all the kids, because y'all know by now I have headcanons for everything. And then y'all would get to see just how chaotic AJ Sotto and Parker Willis can be. But for now, this is about Johnny and his adorable Hanover boyfriend.

If there was a truth everyone in Dalton could agree on, it was that history teacher and Warblers coach, Mr. Wright, was a man you didn't want to cross. The unfortunate ones who were asked to meet with him privately refused to speak of what was told, and whether it was for good or bad reasons, nobody wanted to ask.

And then there were the students who visited his office without even being called. Johnny Larson-Wright, AJ Sotto, Parker Willis. Parker's older brothers graduated from Windsor and Stuart a few years ago, so that brand of crazy would make sense coming from them, but the others…

Well, Valentine Moore always thought people were crazy for assuming their teacher was such a bad man. He made Warblers practice enjoyable every time, gave people solos in a very fair manner, and yeah, maybe he was a bit strict. But he seemed nice enough.

But who was Valentine to say anything? He's never had a conversation alone with him. Maybe they were just exaggerating things!

Yeah, that had to be it!

...until the unfortunate day in late February when he was called in to Mr. Wright's office.

It was all everyone talked about the whole day. Johnny didn't make a fuss about it, unlike most of the others, which was reassuring and even more stressful in equal measures. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, straight-A student Valentine Moore must see the monster, maybe he fucked up real bad this time. Maybe they found out that he contributed to Johnny and AJ's bullshit—

No, wait, no. He does draw, it's his one coping mechanism, but no way they used his art for graffiti. Maybe… maybe it had to do with the homework he didn't turn in for history class? No, but he did it all, he just forgot his notebook by accident, Mr. Wright would probably understand! He must understand, it's not the first time, it's just—

"Stop pacing by my door, Moore," the teacher called, making Valentine freeze in place and start shaking. "You're not exactly invisible."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wright." He just lowered his eyes and walked into the office, closing the door behind him. "Won't do so again."

"It's all good, I get that you're nervous. But there's nothing to be nervous about."

"Is it about the homework I forgot to turn in last week…?"

"No. I care less about the homework than I do about this subject." The teacher started tapping on the desk with his fingers, making Valentine shiver a bit more. "I understand you're seeing my son."

His stomach fell as his shaking stopped.

"I don't… what? No, you got it wrong, I just—"

"Wrong? Unless Johnny is dating another Valentine Moore, who goes to this school and boards in Hanover, and is a member of the Warblers, I have no reason to believe I got it wrong."

"I… I'll break up with him, sir, it's okay. I know I'm not…"

As Valentine started feeling tears fall down his cheek, he also felt a large hand take his, as he started a silent prayer in his mind.

"I'm not mad at you," Mr. Wright — Logan — told him. "In fact, I'm relieved. It seems like he's very serious about you. His father and I are very proud of him. But I'll tell you this. If you hurt my boy—"

"It's the end of me, I know. I'm so sorry, sir."

"...yeah. That's… yeah." As Valentine raised his eyes, he saw his teacher start to fumble a bit. That was unusual… "I didn't actually think I'll get this far, if I'm honest… I'm not allowed to hurt you, as your teacher. But do expect to have a talk again. If either of you get hurt. It's not just about him in this relationship, it's about you too."

"O— okay! Okay, thank you!"

"Now, about that homework—"

"Dad!" Interrupted a call as the door flung open, and in ran Johnny, red in the face and wholly amused. "AJ broke Ramsey's window by accident, we're gonna get killed! Help! Oh, hi Val!"

"Hi!" If Valentine smiled at that, it wasn't his fault. This was the best thing that happened today.

"I swear, when we got you into Stuart we hoped you'd do better than this," Mr. Wright sighed, getting up from his chair. "Excuse me, Moore, it seems like something more... urgent came up."

"Oh no, it's… it's all fine. I'll leave! It's okay!"

"I apologize, Moore."

As Valentine rushed to get up and leave, Logan put a hand on his son's shoulder, trying to make him calm down. The redness still persisted, but his smile cracked, and the twinkle of joy in his eyes teeny off as a blanket of disappointment fell on him.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"You're not. AJ, though, is in so much trouble. Now show me the damage. I'll talk to Ramsey."

————

"So how are you guys doing?" Julian asked through FaceTime, watching his family eat dinner while he had his lunch break on set. Jerry, their newest cat, was also on the table to eat his own dinner. Natalie was paying more attention to him than she was to her dinner.

Johnny kinda wanted to poke her to answer him.

"We're all fine," Logan told him, ignoring the kids to a degree. "Did you watch the regionals video?"

"I did. So did half the cast. Good job on that. Nice song choices too, Squid."

"Thanks," Logan snorted, then turned to nudge Johnny. "Did you hear your pops?"

"I did." He went bright red. "I… I chose the second one."

Julian chuckled at that. "Yeah? No shit, Johnny. Was it inspired by someone special?"

"Yeah… I mean—"

"It certainly looked like it. Reminded me of the Hummel-Sottos back when we were juniors ourselves. Ugh, I can't listen to Raise Your Glass anymore without wanting to gag."

Johnny tried to hide. His dads were great, he never thought otherwise! Pops was the more lenient one, the more open one. The one with less dignity somehow. Probably from growing up in the spotlight and being in the public eye for so long. Dad was stricter, less… open, about all the embarrassing stuff, but he was also home more. Less absent than Pops. So he… knew more, about the kids. Pops was the one to go to with love problems, Dad was the one for any other issues.

Johnny loved them both equally. But they were both equally embarrassing, and that was a lot of embarrassing, and he really didn't want to talk to them about his love life.

"So who's the special someone?" Julian kept on teasing. "Who were you singing You're My Best Friend to?"

"Just…"

"Val," Natalie answered for him, making him choke. "He totally likes Valentine."

"Nat, shush."

"Well, did you tell him yet?" Julian raised an eyebrow, laughing a bit. "He doesn't seem like the guy to get… subtle flirting."

"He's my boyfriend now, okay?" Johnny snapped. "I… I told him. After the performance ended. And then we were together for Valentine's day and now we're together. Is that what you wanna hear?"

"...actually yes, that is what I want to hear. Honey, that's great! Does he make you happy? Do you two talk through your problems or do you keep them inside until you'll burn out like what happened when you were in fifth grade? Do you two fuck yet?"

"Pops!"

"Daddy! Ew!"

As Johnny pretended to gag, and Natalie ran off from the table to wash her mouth, Logan rolled his eyes with a smile and turned the call to face him more.

"They're doing alright, J. They're actually doing better than we did when we started going out. At least with the whole… communication thing."

"You assume we communicated ever," Julian joked, making Logan smile more. "I'm kidding… I'm just happy they're doing well. He seems like a good kid."

"Who, Valentine?"

"Yeah."

"He's great… a bit shy. Reminds me of Reed back when."

"Sounds like a blast. God… I miss you guys. I wanna be there, I wanna meet that kid honest and proper… would it be too weird to give them the sex talk through face cam?"

"I think it would be… a terrible idea, Jules. Please wait until you're back home."

"You forget I can still hear you guys!" Came the groan from Johnny, followed by a call from someone to remind Julian he needs to get dressed for his next scene.

"I love you too!" Julian called to Johnny, receiving a loud groan in return. "Lo, I love you so much."

"I love you too, J."

"I'll see you guys in a month, okay? Not too much left to wait. I'll try to find some of those Japanese kitkats you like."

"Thank you. Have a good day, Jules."

"Good night, Lo. Good night, kids!"

Logan hung up as Johnny mumbled a "yeah, yeah" and Natalie came back to the table, still gagging. 

"...okay, but did you?"

"Nat, I'm not answering that question!"

"Okay, sorry! Jeez!"

Yeah… this was his family now. Logan still struggled to believe this fact. But this was his family now.

————

"How about this argument stops now?" Johnny called right as Julian walked through the door that Saturday afternoon, to catch his husband and daughter standing on one couch and his son comforting a redhead stranger on the other. "It doesn't fucking matter who's a better partner for Mark, he's in a fucking coma. And besides, your screams are making him uncomfortable."

"Do I even want to know?" Julian asked as he dropped his bags, pulling Logan down from the couch so they could kiss. Much to the gagging noises coming from Natalie. "Hello, love."

"Hi, Jules."

"They're listening to The Bright Sessions again," Johnny tried to say, getting somewhat ignored. "It's just—"

"I'm going to my room!"

"Okay! Hello to you too, Natalie!"

That was all about an hour ago, and as things were now, Julian felt far more awake. He took a shower, unpacked his bags, made himself a cup of coffee and now got to cuddle with his husband and their three cats on the couch as their son tried his best to make his boyfriend feel comfortable. The boy didn't look the most reassured though, but at least he didn't seem like he's going to stress himself to death, so he figured it was okay.

"You met my pops before," Julian heard Johnny tell Valentine quietly. "Why are you so scared now?"

"Because I met him as your friend, and now I'm your boyfriend, it's not the same type of meeting!"

"He's right, it's not," Logan told the kids, laughing a bit. "It's scarier than meeting as a friend."

"Dad, you're not helping."

"It's also more relieving than you think, Moore. Trust me."

He sniffled and nodded, trying to calm down more. An uneasy feat, but one Logan and Johnny were sure he could accomplish.

"So… how are you?" Julian asked after a moment of silence, winking at Valentine. "I saw your regionals performance. You did good."

"Th— thank you!" He started blushing at that. "I… I'm good! I think, at least… How are you?"

"I'm very good, thank you for asking. So…" Julian chuckled, taking a bit of a shaky breath. "You're dating now, I heard."

Valentine could've died then and there.

"Dad had to tell him," Johnny tried to explain, but it didn't exactly work that well, as he watched his boyfriend try to hide as his pops kept on smiling.

"I'm not going to make fun of you, I just want to talk to you two. Make sure you know what you're doing, so you won't end up, you know…"

"Like your pops and I were when we started going out," Logan filled in for him.

"Exactly."

"If you want to tell us to use protection, it's okay, I think we know that by now," Valentine managed to say through his weak voice and high anxiety. "At least I know. My parents had our pastor give me that talk when I was thirteen."

"I use protection every time, it's nothing new."

"I'm sure you both know we're very proud of you for practicing that part of the relationship, but there are many more things I'm sure you don't even think of. For example, do you two communicate?" Julian received a very tired side-eye from Johnny and a nod from Valentine. "I'll ask a more specific question. Do you two talk about your feelings? About how certain things the other person does make you feel?"

"What do you mean…?"

"Before Logan and I started going out, I used to be really jealous about things. He used to have a crush on Kurt Hummel, good god, just remembering that hurts me…"

"Does it hurt because Shadow is literally on your rib cage?" Johnny suggests, watching the cat in question curl up defensively.

"No, she's good. It's another kind of pain, honey. But it… you remember when we told you about Adam? Back when Nat was being stalked?"

Johnny nodded, and Val just stared for a moment. "Stalked…?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Adam was my stalker when we were in high school," Julian explained, feeling Logan's grip on him getting tighter. "He forced me to tell Logan I love him. Neither of us were ready at the time, and I wish Adam no harm. I hope he managed to build a normal, semi sane life from those ashes. But he forced Logan and I to have a conversation neither of us were ready for."

"Okay… Pops, why is this important?"

"Because that's what happens when you don't communicate, honey. We didn't communicate until we were forced to. Please don't do that, okay? Can you promise me you'll talk about your feelings?"

"...Dad, what is he talking about? He's scaring Val."

"You're asking your dad and not me? John, I am deeply—"

"Communication is the key to any relationship," Logan said, cutting Julian in the middle and leaving him to play offended. "Consent is just a form of communication."

"One day, you two would decide that now is the right time to start having sex." Johnny started gagging at that. "When that day comes, we both want you to be ready. And it goes far beyond just knowing how to have safe sex. Having a healthy relationship is all about talking, because if you keep it inside, you heard what'll happen. Now, do you two communicate? Do you talk about your feelings, your fears? How far have you gone physically? This is a judgement-free zone, so don't feel ashamed."

"Just… just first base… Val is… uncomfortable with sex… Pops, why are you like this?"

"Because I love you and want to make sure you're safe. You know, some people might not want to have sex ever in their whole life, and that's okay too. A relationship isn't defined by how many times your dick has been in your partner's ass."

"Jules, that's… maybe overstepping a bit. You're scaring the children."

"So let's go back to the talking part. How many dates have you gone on yet? Where to?"

————

Johnny drove the two of them back to Dalton the following Sunday evening, and Natalie had a sleepover at her friend's place, so Logan figured he could make something nice happen for Julian's return. They didn't exactly get to do much yesterday, but it didn't mean they couldn't do anything now. So he ordered some Italian food, he got a bottle of wine, he picked a movie for the two of them to watch before regrettably falling asleep on the couch…

"Well, hello," Julian called as he came down the stairs, seeing Logan fretting over his phone. "What worries you so?"

"I'm waiting for takeout to get here… Michelle says hi."

"Well, when did you order takeout?" He got up to kiss Logan's cheek, hugging him under his arms.

"Seven twenty-three."

"And what time is it now?"

"Seven fifty."

"So they're not late, you're just anxious."

"I guess…" He put his phone down, instead hugging Julian. "I just… I don't know, I got excited. We get to be alone for the first time in…"

"Yeah… you said Michelle said hi? How's her and John's vacation in the Maldives going? Do they miss us too much yet?"

"I don't think they do. Michelle always misses us."

"True… oh, she'd love Valentine."

"She already does."

Logan nodded, then buried his face in Julian's shoulder. He was gone for too long this time. Or maybe they'd just gotten used to spending more time together without any projects getting in the way.

For Julian, three and a half months in New Zealand were also getting too much, and he always got jealous that he couldn't see Johnny compete or be there for Natalie while she auditioned for her own tv shows. He felt like he was missing too much. Sure, he took a break after the whole… stalking situation happened, but that was years ago. His return to mainstream just made him tired.

Both of them had their qualms about the direction their lives were going, and both of them were cut off by the doorbell, and Logan letting go for one moment so he could get the bags and tip the delivery guy. But soon enough it was both of them on the couch, eating their pasta and drinking wine and trying to decide if The Favorite was really the right movie to watch right now or if they felt like something less serious.

"The boys really remind me of us," Logan said in the middle of it all, making Julian choke a bit.

"Really? I can see how Johnny reminds you of you, but I don't think—"

"When we started going out," he finished his sentence. "We were awkward at best…"

"Your friends wouldn't let me off the hook."

"Hey, okay, that was mostly Dwight, and he's your friend too."

"He still wouldn't let me off the hook!"

"You know he only did it because he worries for us. Both of us. He did the same to me too."

"Okay, sure… do you think I just went full Dwight on them yesterday?"

"You… didn't. Not really. I think you did okay. Maybe a bit TMI on some details, but…" Julian made a scene of hiding his face in a pillow, trying to suppress his embarrassment. "Jules, I love you, but I don't think talking about my personal relationship history with our sixteen-year old son and his boyfriend is such a smart idea. Especially since it was mine. I'm not the average, I'm the exception."

"Was there any other way I should've gone at it?"

"I don't know, but I don't think two of my own students can look me in the face anymore."

"I think we should both be grateful we didn't talk about Derek's history at least."

They shared a look, their faces bright red and struggling to hold back a smile, before bursting into laughter. 

"I worry for Valentine if you would have talked about Derek… Jules, that poor kid is terrified of everything, let's not traumatize him even more. I'm still his teacher."

"I worry more for what Johnמy would've said… or Nat. Oh, imagine if Nat would've heard that… you know she and Emma talk about everything, right? And I mean everything. She would've told her, and then Derek would've known, and then we'd both be dead."

"Let's… let's just be grateful that this talk is over with and that we don't need to advise them on more just yet…"

"More like what? Marriage, having children?"

"I know you're joking but yes, that is a very real possibility for us in the future."

"So let's just… fuck, I can't breathe…"

"Oh, shit! Your inhaler is here, come on…"

"...Logan?" Julian asked after a few moments, his breathing calming down now.

"Yeah?"

"Let's keep the marriage counseling to the future, okay?" He smiled as Logan nodded, leaning over to kiss his cheek again. "I love you."

"Jules, I love you."

"I know. Lucky me."

[tebbyclinic11]

Simone Jacobson Is the Cultural Connector D.C. Nee...

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Simone Jacobson Is the Cultural Connector D.C. Nee...

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We’re honoring Simone Jacobson as part of Healthyish Superpowered, a new kind of dinner party celebrating women around the country who are redefining wellness. Join Jacobson, the Healthyish team, and our partner Caviar at Timber Pizza Co in DC on September 12th, or see when we’ll be in a city near you.

The guy to my left is balanced upside down on his head, feet shooting straight in the air. Meanwhile Simone Jacobson is telling us all to “go upside down.”

I’m at Jacobson’s “Yoga for Every Body” class, aimed at people of color, queer and trans people, or anyone who’s ever felt they out of place in a yoga space. This particular session is in a studio, but Jacobson teaches similar classes at the public library and DC Jail. If you can breathe and move, she says, you can do yoga.

But anything resembling a headstand? Not my body. With my head tucked in my palms on the mat, I give a small, sad kick in the air. I give up. But Jacobson knows I can do this. With her buzzed head and Buddha-like smile beside me, she calmly coaches me to kick up higher and higher. Then, finally, for a few brief seconds, I too am upside down.

Empowering other people is Jacobson’s superpower—not just in yoga, but in her countless other roles. The 34-year-old is the Deputy Director for Words Beats & Life, a non-profit that aims to transform lives through hip-hop. She helps organize festivals and cultural events for Smithsonian museums. And she co-owns a “Burmese bodega” selling all kinds of Asian foods and products.

Jacobson calls herself a “multipotentialite,” a term she picked up from a TED Talk about having more than one calling. After all, as a kid, she wanted to be both the first female president of the United States and a “Fly Girl” on ’90s sketch comedy show In Living Color. As an adult, she’s encountered a lot of pressure to pick a lane but prefers to be a “Jill of all trades.” And while her wide-ranging lineup of gigs and projects can seem random at first glance, underneath it all is a common theme: “What can we do that is truly for everybody?”

Jacobson’s dad is a Jewish lawyer originally from Pittsburgh; her mom is a former English and art history teacher from Burma, whose family fled the country after her journalist father was briefly imprisoned following the 1962 military coup. Growing up in Phoenix, Arizona, most of Jacobson’s classmates had never even heard of Burma. Like many people from mixed-race backgrounds, she grappled with her hyphenated identity.

“I care so much about inclusion because so much of my life, in small and large ways, I was excluded,” Jacobson says. “It’s this feeling of being from everywhere and nowhere, belonging in all places and in no places.”

Photo by Scott Suchman

Jacobson doing yoga at Meridian Hill Park in Washington, DC

Still, Jacobson has always been extremely proud of Burmese roots and finally traveled to the country for the first time in her twenties. There, she tried her first falooda, a parfait-like dessert with basil seeds, ice cream, and flavored gelatin. Jacobson says she and her mom, Jocelyn Law-Yone, have always come up with “get rich slow” schemes. One day, they thought, why not open a falooda shop?

In 2016, Jacobson, her mom, and friend Eric Wang launched Toli Moli, a pop-up cafe serving gourmet versions of falooda. Over the past two years, the venture has evolved into a Burmese bodega or “cornerless corner store” inside DC’s Union Market food hall, selling a small menu of Burmese staples and family recipes like catfish curry and coconut noodles alongside Asian products ranging from Korean face masks to Thai chili sauce. Law-Yone is the chef, Wang is the manager, and Jacobson runs behind-the-scenes tasks from payroll to marketing. Together, they’ve made the space a community hub, hosting cooking classes and supplying books by and about people of color.

“We are artists and teachers,” Jacobson says, “So we share food and we share stories, and that is our role in keeping Burma on people’s minds.”

Jacobson’s role as self-proclaimed “cultural connector” now goes far beyond the bodega. Last fall, the Freer Sackler, the Smithsonian museum of Asian art, hired Jacobson to help organize its IlluminAsia arts and culture festival, which included a night market on the National Mall. Jacobson brought in the food vendors and other artists and community groups. The 50,000-person event ended up being the largest in the Freer Sackler’s history.

Freer Sackler program manager Matthew Lasnoski says that, after the event, Jacobson organized a dinner for all the food vendors. No one asked her to do it, but she insisted that all these Asian-American chefs and restaurateurs get know each other. “Building community is just a natural part of what she’s interested in doing,” Lasnoski says.

In February, Jacobson started her newest community-building gig for hip-hop non-profit Words Beats & Life. As Deputy Director, she oversees adult programs—like classes where you can learn how to be a DJ or a graffiti artist—that help fund the free activities for kids.

Even though it seems Jacobson has a million things going on, she tries to be selective about projects. ”I’m very protective of my time, and I think one of the healthiest things we can do, especially as women, is learning the compassionate ‘no.’”

To help keep herself grounded, Jacobson turns to yoga and meditation. “Yoga also helps with having a hyperactive mind. Sometimes you need to turn it off,” she says. “Yoga for me is that full power down.”

Jacobson started practicing yoga after tearing her ACL and meniscus in an informal hip-hop dance battle in 2008. She couldn’t dance, but she knew she needed to move—somehow. Last year, she became a certified yoga teacher. Jacobson has since gravitated toward Yoga Activist, a non-profit focused on “trauma-sensitive and inclusive” yoga. She started teaching at a public library, then, last October, helped launch programs at the DC Jail. There, she’s practiced alongside inmates from all backgrounds and abilities, including some with bullets in their spines, and helped them try to find peace amid constant noise. But, Jacobson says, the classes aren’t that different than those in a studio. “Everybody has a body, and the bodies move, and that’s it,” she says.

Jacobson’s next step is to train more people to teach the classes. While she prides herself on being able to do it all, she wants to build things that can thrive without her.

“There are a lot of people who start things and they feel like it can’t run without them. I’m the opposite. I’m like, ‘Can it run without me?’ Great, next thing,” Jacobson says. “Not because I have a lack of attention span, but because I want to leave as many thriving things as I can.”

Join Healthyish Superpowered to celebrate Jacobson on September 12th in DC.

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