#but that also opens up that whole wound of Hiding My Queerness in my own home

[dirt-goth]

I want to get dressed up all cute and gay but I also don't want to be seen like that irl right now. Evil<3

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

BNHA 428: This chapter made me annoyed and yet it was still somewhat better than I expected?

Himichako. I like it, it's a good ship- not one I'm crazy about, but the vision is compelling. I mean, the loved girl on hard times who admires honesty but represses her feelings + hunger motifs, and the formerly wealthy and rejected girl who's honest to herself but masks her sadness from others + drinking motifs? Being so similar at their core from selfishness, bleeding love, admiration and imitation? Yeah, why not, sign me up, it looks fun.

(plus Ochako needed a subplot that would shy away from Izuku because oh boi her writing is messy-)

Then the ending annoucement happened and I immediately went "oh no" when I remembered that tidbit. But. Yesterday, I remembered this page from 424, which in hindsight makes sense:

Shoto moving forward and choosing to not dwell on his past anymore, because he wants to know the man he wants to become alongside his family of choice.

Spinner feeling so much grief for Tomura inside his room, his extra Quirks add up to it. Further gut points as it was all because of AFO, but the wrong person is getting the blame.

Ochako looking lost and dissatisfied, not really saying anything about Himiko's status; then her hidden injury which left a scar that'll never go away, nothing can change that.

And then, well, a sky with a chance to fight for a "bright future". Which is the most ambiguous you can get for anything, really, sequel or not.

(sidenote: is it me or the panel where she's touching her stab wound looks like a tangent line?)

Okay so, I went into the chapter, with Pikahlua's translations. It was A Chapter alright-

If it wasn't the antepenultimate chapter, the "filler" would've been welcomed. But I guess it means we should focus on the smaller details, I guess? Like that 1st year saying Izuku filled him with courage and Izuku immediately thinking of Spinner's pain? Yeah he hates himself and that people call him a hero, when he considers himself a murderer, and will never forgive himself for failing Tenko, therapy for him and everyone in Class 2-A please- yeah it was a fun detail. Also the throb of hiding your pain of "defeating" someone you wanted to save but in the end everything is miserable but everyone else is happy and you don't wanna be a bother. Fun.

Also I wasn't the one to point the out, but looking at the uniform (U.A. uniform blazer for boys + the tie with a dot for girls), the student who's a Izuku fan is probably trans/gnc, which I appreciate a lot :D (Damn Izuku attracts so many queer people I wonder if that's a sign- /hj)

Also, I guess Class A stating "[Bakugou], Midoriya and Todoroki were at the heart of it all" then focusing on Ochako is good foreshadowing on how her own battle wasn't fully recorded? It's like saying in the end her fight didn't matter, but the other ones went "well", so she's trying (and slowly failing) to keep her sadness at bay because, well, everyone's happy, so who cares? Another "throb".

I thought since the Todoroki family issues are out in the open, didn't they record the whole thing? Then I re-read it, they only saw the family stopping Touya from exploding. So they didn't see Shoto trying to talk to Touya, which means none of the LoV were humanized. Fuck's sake.

After that, I get focusing on the first years and civilians wanting to help and all, but it feels like a repeat of everything seconds before Jakku, so I assume it's a way for them to pretend things are normal? But not-quite-quoting Katsuki (<- which I will point out for my sake is very much alive and well and- oh boi LFtR will kill me) and Edgeshot here because it made me smile:

"Will you...go back to the way you were?" "I plan to attain something greater than what I was originally!"

So, yeah I suppose he'll be fine eventually. (Best J. really loving Edgeshot even as a worm, honestly, goals)

Again with Izuku remembering saying "[He'll] bring it all back" and apologizing for "not keeping his promise" and others telling him to not blame himself and they can reconstruct as many times as it takes. Again, gave me a little smile, but not for long-

Finally, Ochako pretending things are fine. Hello there, Sports Festival/Provisional License!Ochako I missed you- /hj (I miss the dorms era in general, actually.)

So... *sigh* Full disclosure: I wasn't looking forward to Himichako as we were getting 5/10 pages for the "conclusions" in the previous two, I thought Ochako would be off about Himiko being depressed about the League. But since she's MIA, red flags are now red herrings, and it's better than the dead outcome. If Ochako got another person dying in her arms that'd just break her character.

A blood transfusion takes hours, she couldn't been doing that for more than 20min, if it was gonna kill anyone it'd be Ochako. Either Himiko ran away or got arrested, and Ochako feels guilty because she doesn't know if she's dead or not. Not great, but until I see a corpse she ain't dead. Besides: Touya, Shoto, Edgeshot, Katsuki, Toshinori, Ochako herself, all physically hurt unlike her, and yet they live.

And then we have Izuku showing up. I'm upset he used OFA embers for this, but eh, it's Izuku, do I expect anything else?

Rolling with the assumption Himiko died (like our POV characters), Izuku would need to face his own failure in Ochako- Failed to save two people like she failed Himiko, but it'd be so. Empty. Ochako was true to herself, while Izuku gave nothing but "I want to save that crying kid" while fighting Tenko. The most they can do is bond with "failing" and "this isn't what we fought for". This is not really a moment where he can be a shoulder to cry on, it'd come across as hypocritical /neg.

The only way it could make sense it without being shallow on Mr. Control = Repress Your Heart's part (as he didn't open up to the two people who died in "his watch") is Ochako telling how Himiko loved yet seeing him repressing this part of his is idiotic? She likes people who are true to themselves, which Izuku hasn't been for ages, leading to him realizing something. I thought it'd be through a DvsK3 but. I'll take it, two chapters left, I just want his thoughts (and for them to talk but that can happen in the last one).

They only recorded Shoto stopping Touya from being a suicidal bomb, Ochako floating a bunch of Twice!Himiko clones and Izuku entering a coccon, popping out armless, getting them back, punching Tenko to death. The "I want to save [them]" wasn't registered, it makes sense they're (well, Izuku and Ochako mostly) weirded out about this, dissatisfied like most readers are (sidenote: why when it comes to the trio either Ochako or Shoto get sidelined? So much could tie their stories together and yet-)

It's still a tough pill. I'm not a villain stan, just wondering if those fights were for nothing- the humanity of Tenko and Himiko? Can't be proved for anyone else, since they weren't recorded.

And I don't know if anyone saw the same thing, but those "city lights" look like the bubbles from Ochako's awakening, maybe we'll get a Blackwhip or Entrance Exam callback? Maybe it's what the tagline meant by "hidden feelings", since she unlocked it to reach Himiko and doesn't think anyone would understand why. I hope it's just a nice visual though.

If Himiko is truly dead though... You know, I headcannoned the characters were telling the story through confessionals/recordings to register it to the world so they'd learn from that, but I guess the interviews Aizawa was talking about seemed more likely, which. Well it's something, but I thought it'd be everyone instead of just Class A. Idk. The idea the LoV didn't change anything, or that they did change things but don't get to see it, is bitter.

So uh. Yeah, those are my thoughts. I'm not sure how to feel about it, on one hand I want Izuku to finally open up but on the other, it feels like it'll be at Himiko and Ochako's expense by involving him in something that's theirs now. And there's a chance we'll get the "nothing is fine" from Ochako- god I'm fearing the discourse next week already :DDDD

... Man, and this is a bad timing to be in the fandom, considering the LFtR episode airs this Saturday (which will be yesterday by the time this post goes up and I'll be crying about that instead-), so uh. Yeah, this fandom will be emotionally devastated for two reasons XD

Okay, so I'll try ending this on a more optimistic note: I think Himiko is alive, and Ochako just doesn't know it, which is why we're getting 0 confirmation and a breakdown. Izuku's confrontation with her can make or break this plot, but as long as 1) we acknowledge the emotional, different stakes between the Himichako fight and Tenko vs. Izuku one and 2) it doesn't end in a confession (and let's be real, it won't), then we're probably good (sadly, if you disregard the LoV status). I still think it's an ass pull for the camera battery to go out though.

But no matter how this goes: C'mon, two chapters left now, this one was wasted on the first years, smh, let this sequel hopium be a reality I wanna know who's the 425 guy, not the poor first year who's gonna replace Shindo Yo in fanfics- /hj

[excusethequality]

My 2024 in Film: February

Another month of movies.

Like usual I'll hide it behind the line so as not to bombard the timelines of the uninterested.

But there were a lot of good movies watched in February.

* = Rewatches

February

14.

Evil Demon Golf Ball from Hell!!!

(1997)

—Short Comedy Thriller

Directed by: Rian Johnson

After a robbery takes a bad turn a criminal finds himself cursed with a golf ball that won't stop following him.

Here I was thinking that I was an old school Rian Johnson fan, because I've loved Brick since back in the day, but turns out he was making short films even before that.

I'm not gonna say it's amazing tell-all-your-friends cinema or anything. But I will say that if you're in the middle segment of the venn diagram of people that both enjoy Rian Johnson and Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, I'd recommend you check it out. It definitely has the vibes of a Jojo episode, because that golfball has got to be an autonomous stand like Notorious B.I.G.

15.

La Nuit du 12

[English title: "The Night of the 12th"]

(2022)

—Mystery

Directed by: Dominik Moll

A French homicide detective, plagued by the mystery behind the brutal murder of a young woman, is forced to confront the harsh truths of the world and the reality of what modern law enforcement really is.

There's some things to like about this one, but it can't ever escape the fact that—at its heart—it is not a story about the dangers of living as a woman under the patriarchy. It is a story about how difficult the brutal murder of this woman was for this poor male cop.

And how can you make a statement about the systems of a world where women have to fear this sort of thing from within a story about a woman getting fridged to give the male protagonist some pathos?

16.

Bound

(1996)

—Crime Thriller

Directed by: Lana Wachowski & Lilly Wachowski

While fixing up an apartment a handywoman falls for the woman next door only to discover that their criminal connections could prove to be their salvation or their downfall.

My roommates and I have roommate movie nights wherein every month we select a new theme and everyone has to pick their own movie fitting the theme without telling anyone else what it is until it's their night. Then throughout the month we'll watch them all.

And before each showing the picker will show a couple trailers of the things they were thinking about picking but that didn't make the final cut.

I had always avoided this movie because anytime I hear something described as an erotic thriller my ace ass is running the other way. But we wound up watching the trailer for it during a roommate movie night and I was intrigued.

(extra intrigued because I didn't know Jennifer Tilly was in it and I hadn't seen her in anything in some time.)

So I figured I'd give it a try. And much to my surprise I really enjoyed it. I think I might actually prefer the Wachowski's style in this than I do their later stuff? Not only is it super queer, but it's also just a really engaging thriller. Definitely worth sitting through the couple of erotic scenes for.

17.

Corner Office

(2022)

—Comedy Mystery

Directed by: Joachim Back Based on: "Rummet" by Jonas Karlsson

A businessman starts a new job only to discover a mysterious office that grants him exceptional clarity. The only problem is that he's the only one who can see it and the rest of the office is a little uncomfortable with how he keeps going into the hallway to stare at the wall during his breaks.

I'm not really sure what the message of this movie was supposed to be? It's too uncomfortable to be funny, and it's too odd to be thrilling. I'm open to the idea that I just completely missed the point, but the whole thing felt like having some Boomer talk at you for 102 minutes.

18.*

Ready or Not

(2019)

—Horror

Directed by: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

On her wedding night a bride is asked to partake in a family tradition of her new in-laws: to play a game. However, the stakes of this game are far higher than she was expecting.

Right off the bat I'm gonna warn you against watching the trailer for this one. It shows way too much and spoils some surprises. I think it's a great one to go into knowing only the broadstrokes. But if you really want one, this one with Indonesian subtitles is cut much better than the standard US one.

Anways, I love this movie!

Samara Weaving is phenomenal as the lead. It's shot super well. And its satire of the rich is excellent.

I don't care what anyone thinks, it's a 5/5 to me. I have a blast every time I watch it and I have seen it quite a few times.

19.

The Lost City

(2022)

—Comedy Adventure

Directed by: Aaron Nee and Adam Nee

An eccentric billionaire kidnaps a romance novelist in order to find a lost treasure. Now it's up to the cover model of her books to rescue her.

I don't know how to put this, but this is a great example of where the writing of big studio Hollywood is these days, and why it drives me crazy. This is essentially (but not technically) a remake of Romancing the Stone (1984) and when you compare them you can really see how screenwriting has changed.

And I wouldn't even say Romancing the Stone is top tier writing or anything. But from the standards of its era it was a solid entry. It might not be the flashiest thing, but it has a strong foundations and it is first-and-foremost telling a story. And that's why it's memorable.

But The Lost City feels like a 2 hour long SNL skit. It's inherently NOT about the story. The story is secondary. It's about the jokes. The story is just there to be a set piece to tell some jokes. Because of this the scenes don't progress in a way to tell the story, they progress to get from one skit to another.

The result is that there is no foundation for me hang my attention on. It's all just empty calories. Yet the film will still try to have big story and character beats, but they didn't do any of the groundwork and so it's all hollow for me.

The viewers wanted silliness and adventure and big names and bigger action, right? Well, here it is! Isn't it great!? Here's a plate of sugar and salt and oil, these are the things you wanted, right? What you put them in is secondary, right? Why bother making a dish when we can just give you what you want.

I don't know. I was excited about this one, because Channing Tatum, Sandra Bullock, and Daniel Radcliffe usually always make me laugh. So them being in something together seemed like a recipe for something I'd like. But it very much was not.

And so many big movies feel like this these days; as if movies are being written by a group consensus instead of by a storyteller.

20.

Cameraperson

(2016)

—Documentary Memoir

Directed by: Kirsten Johnson

Documentary filmmaker and cinematographer Kirsten Johnson creates a memoir of her life and career through the unused footage of the documentaries she's worked on.

I had never seen this one before, but this was my pick for a roommate movie night. The theme was: "Oh!...So that's a thing."

I figured that the easy road would be to pick a documentary that highlighted some unusual group or idea, but I wanted to push the boundaries of the theme. I wanted to find something that wasn't about something unusual, but was itself something unusual.

And that's how I wound up at Kirsten Johnson.

I had first heard of her during a fantastic episode of Switchblade Sisters where she was the guest and she put forth a truly fascinating documentary-filmmaker view of Jackass: The Movie (2002). In the episode she also talks about her film Dick Johnson is Dead (2020), and I was thinking that maybe that would work.

But in looking at her other work I saw this and the idea behind it sounded so interesting that I had to go with it.

It's April as I write this post and this is currently sitting as my favorite thing I've watched this year.

I just love it. It is such a uniquely compelling film. If you were to make a standard documentary about documentary filmmaking I don't think it could come close to reaching this kind of impact. It would seem too sterile. But by using the parts of the documentaries that you don't see it is able to paint this fascinating picture of both her life and her profession, while making you feel like you're along for the ride.

I've thought about this movie so much since I've watched it. Definitely check it out if you get the chance.

21.

Marry Me

(2022)

—Rom-Com

Directed by: Kat Coiro Based on: Marry Me by Bobby Crosby

A pop-star in the middle of a crisis decides to accept the offer of a fan at her concert who is holding a sign saying "Marry Me."

I am part of the small percentage of people that have read the webcomic this was based on, so I was shocked when I saw it had been adapted.

As a connoisseur of Rom-Coms I found this is to be a little below average. But I can't really dislike it, because J.Lo is giving it her all.

Owen Wilson is phoning it in HARD, but J.Lo is going for it.

I wouldn't tell you to go out of your way to see it, but if you're low on options and you see it somewhere, you could do a hell of a lot worse than a movie with J.Lo proving she's still as good as she ever was.

P.S. "On My Way (Marry Me)" is a banger.

22.

Knock at the Cabin

(2023)

—Mystery Thriller

Directed by: M. Knight Shyamalan Based on: The Cabin at the End of the World by Paul Tremblay

A strange group descends on a small family vacationing in a rural cabin and presents them with a choice: decide which member of the family should die and then kill them, or else the entire world will be destroyed.

I distinctly remember early in M. Knight's career where that man could do no wrong. I also distinctly remember years later where a trailer said "From the mind of M. Knight Shyamalan" and everybody laughed.

After he created the absolute heaping white-washed trashfire that is The Last Airbender (2010) I has just wrote him off. But it's been a decade! Maybe he has managed to get back to his roots? And the library had his new stuff so I figured why not see what the man has been up to, without giving him any money.

Anyways, I hate this.

I hate this a lot.

I also hate that Dave Bautista is giving a really great performance, because it'll be the hidden silver lining to an otherwise terrible movie.

From what I read the book this is based on takes the story in a very different direction, so no shade on the book. But I am just lost at knowing what this movie is trying to say? Because I can't help but be wildly uncomfortable with a movie written by a straight man about how a gay couple should kill each other in order to save the world?

Like...what the actual fuck is this? Why would you make this?

23.

Old

(2021)

—Sci-Fi Mystery

Directed by: M. Knight Shyamalan Based on: Château de sable by Pierre Oscar Lévy & Frederik Peeters

A group of families find themselves trapped on a strange beach where they seem to be aging at a highly accelerated rate.

I haven't done the proper research, but I have a working theory that if Gael García Bernal is in a big Hollywood movie: it won't be good. But if Gael García Bernal is in a Spanish-language movie: it will be fantastic.

Which is to not to insult him in any way, but is to say that Hollywood has no idea how to use this man's talents.

Anyways, M.Knight is back at it! Once again getting great actors to be in bad movies. This is just plot hole after plot hole after plot hole. And since this was based on a French graphic novel I actually did read it afterword, so now I can confidently say that he has once again both entirely missed the point of the source material and also gave it a ridiculous ending.

I can't say it's utterly forgettable, but I kind of wish it was.

24.*

Best in Show

(2000)

—Comedy Mocumentary

Directed by: Christopher Guest

Cameras document 5 contestants on their way to the biggest dog show of year.

I'm not positive, but I think this is the first mockumentary I ever saw? My best friend's family loves mockumentaries so I wound up watching a bunch while over at his house and it rubbed off on me. So I have a lot of nostalgia for this one.

It's just such a fun movie. Quotes from this movie live rent free in my head. And the cast! The cast is so good. This is one of those movies that I'll always be down to watch.

25.

Cane Toads: An Unnatural History

(1988)

—Documentary

Directed by: Mark Lewis

A wild look at Australia's history with its most notorious eco-terrorist: the cane toad.

This is one of the movies I was thinking of for the previous roommate movie night, but didn't go with. I obviously still had to watch it by myself later, because I mean...how can you not want to see this?

This friggin' movie is wild. Not only is the story it's telling wild, but it shoots from the perspective of the toads? They had songs written for the movie about toads? It's just something you have to see to understand.

I also thought I knew the story of the cane toads ravaging Australia, but I definitely didn't know the whole story. It's only 47 minutes long. You can find the whole thing on Youtube if you can't find it elsewhere. If you don't watch it for the unique style of Documentary, you gotta watch it to hear the story about these toads. That's the kind of crazy history that you just can't make up.

26.

Nimona

(2023)

—Animated Sci-Fi Fantasy Found-Family Adventure

Directed by: Nick Bruno & Troy Quane Based on: Nimona by ND Stevenson

A young shapeshifter teams up with a criminal ex-knight to overthrow the status quo.

What's this? Another movie this month based on a webcomic I read back in the day? What are the odds?

I've always been a fan of the Nimona comic. In fact I was even one of the many fans reading it here and Tumblr back in the day!

When I was working at a bookstore the Nimona graphic novel was a real popular seller and while the store's owner never gave me credit, I am taking full credit for it. Because it wasn't even on her radar until I pre-ordered my copy and told her how great it was, so she ordered an extra copy for the store. Then I wrote a shelf talker for it and we kept selling it and boom! It became a store staple.

[Sorry, I' hope y'all don't mind 'm just in a chatty mood. So you're are just gonna have to keep putting up with all this stories behind the things I'm watching!]

Netflix has a love for dicking me over time and time again, so I was resigned to probably not being able to see this one, because I refuse to give them any money. But they actually decided to do something cool for once and they put the full movie on Youtube for free in the time leading up to the Oscars.

Overall I really liked it! But I've gotta say that I like it as an addition to the graphic novel and not as a replacement for it. Because in the context of the source material it's delightful, but if you only watched this I feel like you'd be missing out on a lot. Ballister and Ambrosius' relationship in particular is WAY more interesting in the comic.

Also, I'm also not sure why the art director of the movie decided to give Ballister permanent puppy-dog eyes? But that's neither here nor there.

27.*

Evil Dead II

(1987)

—Horror Comedy

Directed by: Sam Raimi

Both a sequel and a remake of the first movie. Ash is back at the cabin and so are the deadites! But this time...it's zanier!

I have discovered that among Horror fans I have some hot takes regarding the Evil Dead films. The first of them is that Evil Dead (2013) is an amazing movie and a fantastic adaptation, and all y'all are just haters.

But the second of them is that The Evil Dead (1981) is the far superior film to Evil Dead II.

The Evil Dead is creepy and wild and delightfully independent and creative. Army of Darkness (1992) is a campy and hilarious adventure through a nightmare world. And floating adrift somewhere in the middle, with no real goal is Evil Dead II.

I know many people who love it, and I wish them the best. But personally every time I've watched this I've just been thinking that this is all time I could've spent watching one of the other ones.

[Except for Evil Dead Rise (2023) which is by far the worst of them all. I'm not sure if that's another hot take or not, but it's true.]

28.*

Leprechaun

(1993)

—Horror Comedy

Directed by: Mark Jones

While sprucing up an old house a spoiled girl and a family of painters runs afoul of an evil leprechaun when one of them eats some of his gold.

I thought I hadn't actually seen all of this when I sat down to watch it, but then the character Ozzie showed up and it all came flooding back to me.

But don't be like me. Don't watch Leprechaun by yourself. Leprechaun is a dish that should be enjoyed with the company of friends. Also some alcohol.

Because it's not a good movie, but it can definitely be a fun movie.

29.

Leprechaun 2

(1994)

—Horror Comedy

Directed by: Rodman Flender

The leprechaun is back! This time he's determined to transform a girl into his leprechaun bride.

Okay, now THIS one I'm pretty sure I had never seen before.

It's also not good. And not even bad in the fun way the original one was, it's just not good. Although Warwick Davis being a menace is never not fun.

But the girl is the most interesting character and she is sidelined for most of it. Thus we're stuck following her dumbass boyfriend and his alcoholic boss around. And they are just the dullest characters to follow around.

30.

Barb & Star Go to Vista Del Mar

(2021)

—Comedy Adventure

Directed by: Josh Greenbaum

Two mid-western best friends decide to spice up their life and take a vacation to Florida.

I have a friend that adores this movie. It looked a little weird, so I wasn't sure about it, but I decided to trust her judgement and my love of Kristen Wiig and give it a try.

And she was right, because this movie is so much fun. It's probably not the sort of humor that everyone will love, but it's definitely the sort of humor that cracks me up.

31.*

Barb & Star Go to Vista Del Mar

(2021)

see #30

After I finished it, I immediately watched it again with commentary, okay?

Don't judge me!

32.

Oppenheimer

(2023)

—Bio-Pic Drama

Directed by: Christopher Nolan

The story of Robert Oppenheimer's history of developing the atomic bomb.

One of my roommates told me at nearly midnight that he was about to put this on and asked if I wanted to watch. It is 3 hours long, but I'm always up late anyways, so I figured why not.

I don't really have many thoughts on this. I typically love Cillian Murphy, but I kind of don't like his Oppenheimer accent in this?

Also people kept talking about Robert Downey Jr.'s performance and I don't know why, because Josh Hartnett was the real standout for me. Somewhere along the line he got really good at acting.

33.

Shall We Dance

(1937)

—Musical Rom-Com

Directed by: Mark Sandrich

A famous ballet dancer starts a rumor that he's married to a performer he has a crush on. This is rather unfortunate for her as the rumor is making it difficult for her to marry her actual finance.

I had never heard of this before, but I stumbled across it while trying to see if the library had a copy of Shall We ダンス? (1996). It turns out they did not, but they did have this.

I didn't like it.

The plot is really creepy when you think about it. Most of the musical numbers aren't very good. And I just was rather bored for most of it. And the moviegoers of the time didn't love it either, so it's not just me!

The main thing it has going for it is that Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire are so friggin' talented that it is always fun to watch them perform. And old movies are always a trip. They have a scene with barely any cuts where Rogers and Astaire do a tap dance number on roller skates. If that's not talent then I don't know what is.

34.

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome

(1985)

—Post-Apocalyptic Action Adventure

Directed by: George Miller & George Ogilvie

In a post-apocalyptic Australia a lone wanderer becomes embroiled in a power struggle between the sibling rulers of a city.

In a reverse of Leprechaun, I was convinced I had seen this before. I was so sure of it. But when the film truly goes BEYOND the thunderdome? None of that rang a bell AT ALL.

I'm going to assume I had only watched parts of it some time in the past, but never the whole thing. Because the whole second half was a wild surprise for me.

Definitely an interesting watch if you're a fan of the Borderlands games.

35.*

Scream 4

(2011)

— Meta Horror

Directed by: Wes Craven

Ten years after the events of the last movie and Sydney Prescott has finally managed to piece her life back together. But when she returns to her hometown as part of her book tour she soon finds that another familiar face has also returned to Woodsboro.

Unlike with the Evil Dead series, I have no idea how my Scream takes are seen within the Horror fandom. But I love Scream 4. I would go so far as to say that it is my second favorite of the entire franchise, with the first one being the only one that tops it.

I know the third movie gets a lot of hate, so if you dropped off the series at some point and never made it to 4, I humbly suggest you give it a watch. Heck, I'm not positive, but I think you could firmly enjoy this one if the only other one you had seen was the first.

I had never seen anything past 4, so I figured I'd give it a rewatch before finally getting around to watching 5 and 6.

36.

Scream

(2022)

— Meta Horror

Directed by: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

Ghostface strikes again! And this time Sydney isn't even in town! Maybe people shouldn't live in Woodsboro?

[Right off the bat I should mention that although it is the fifth movie, they decided to make the bold choice to name it "Scream." Does this mean that 2 of the movies in the franchise now have the same name? Yes. Yes it does. Is that kind of confusing? Yes. It certainly is!]

Ohhhhh boy. On one hand I'm glad I rewatched 4 to remind me of where the series last left off. But on the other hand I wish I hadn't because it set my bar really high.

I've heard people screaming praises for this one, so I figured I'd finally get around to checking it out. Especially because these directors also did Ready or Not which—as we have previously established—I love.

HOWEVER, I did not love this.

I don't care what any other fans think, this is going dead last in my Scream rankings. I'd gladly watch 3 before I'd watch this again. The whole thing is like a terrible Scream fan fiction story.

I am so glad I got this from the library, because if I had paid to see this in the theater I would have been even more annoyed.

——————

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February Stats

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Movies watched this month: 23

Rewatches: 26% ( 6/23 )

My favorite new movie of the month: Cameraperson

Least favorite: Knock at the Cabin

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Previous Month's Posts:

JAN

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[cto10121]

Does R&J Play With Gender Stereotypes?

So I came across this piece of meta by @hamliet that rather intrigued me:

There’s also another layer here: the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine. Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one. That’s the first thing Juliet declares to Romeo in the balcony scene: that she will always be loyal, and she shows this in every choice she makes in the story.

Let’s break this down.

“the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine.”

Romeo does indeed call Juliet the sun, but Juliet never calls Romeo the moon—or likens him with anything symbolically feminine, come to think of it. The closest she or the play gets is a small but clear association with night: Romeo has “night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes” and Juliet implores “loving, black-browed” night to give her her Romeo. Even then it is so that he can “make the face of heaven so fine / That all the world will be in love with night / And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

Instead, Juliet consistently uses the same love language of authority as Romeo does with her, calling him her lord, husband, knight, “day-in-night,” “mansion of a love,” “god of my idolatry,” and, (my particular favorite), “tassel-gentle” or “falcon.” “Pilgrim” is the lowest social rank she uses, but of course she is following Romeo’s pilgrim-and-saints flirtation and its wink-wink bilingual allusion to his name. Romeo’s use of “sun,” then, could be viewed in the context of both lovers conferring cosmic/earthly authority, beauty, ownership, and sovereignty to each other—the Elizabethan equivalent of calling each other wife/husband. And of course they begin doing that immediately after they marry.

Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one.

Definitely not. Romeo is plenty decisive and bold—making the first move in wooing Juliet, climbing the orchard wall, showing himself to Juliet, immediately agreeing to marry her, nearly killing himself when he thinks Juliet might not take him back and, er, actually killing himself for her. I wouldn’t say he is impulsive, either—though he makes decisions fairly quickly, it is almost always with some deliberation beforehand (“Can I go forward when my heart is here?” “Shall I hear more or shall I speak at this?” and his monologue after Mercutio’s exit) and of course there are instances in which he restrains himself (“I am too bold” and his monologue after Mercutio’s death). The most accurate description of Romeo is that he is a risk taker—at least when he is well and truly motivated. And even then it does not rob his deliberation or even his wits.

He is also not flighty. In fact, he proves just as loyal as Juliet—as soon as he meets her, he forgets about Rosaline and leaves her clear behind. He doesn’t once waver in his conviction that Juliet is for him and makes plans to die with her (and does!). His love for Rosaline is clearly framed by the narrative as shallow, performative, and passive, and the verse bears this out. He was never in any kind of relationship with Rosaline—his love was an unrequited crush that he was at perfectly liberty to have ditched, frankly. After that, it’s Juliet, Juliet, Juliet until he dies.

Also, once more, Romeo is no crybaby. He explicitly cries a total of two times—one even before the events of the play, when he pines over Rosaline under a grove of sycamore, and another when he’s 1) seen Mercutio get mortally wounded, 2) killed Tybalt, 3) learned that he is banished from the city, and 4) mistakenly believed that Juliet no longer wants him (the Nurse’s reply is vague enough to be misinterpreted); at the very least he is devastated to have been the cause of her pain. Anyone would break down in those circumstances. Juliet herself breaks down on hearing the news and arguably is more verbally vehement than Romeo—namely, that even the words “Romeo is banishèd” are worse than if herself, Romeo, her parents, and Tybalt were dead. She ends that monologue with a passive suicide threat: “And Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!” How anyone can argue Juliet isn’t as lovestruck as Romeo is beyond me.

What Shakespeare was most likely aiming for was showing the mutuality of R&J’s love with parallel scenes and even language. Both have chances to act strong, decisive, and bold, both show vulnerability and great emotion and passion, both are lovestruck. Both demonstrate so-called “masculine” and “feminine” traits, which is almost always culturally-and time-based, anyway. There are only a few key differences between the two—almost all of the above traits, however, they both share. It’s almost as if…Shakespeare understood that no man or woman had all masculine or all feminine traits.

Moving on to the conclusion:

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit). It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society. And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit).

You just opened up 200+ years of fandom wank, OP. I’ll just do a quick sum-up.

The Sonnets are a complete mess. They are contradictory as hell, there is clearly more than one persona speaking, there is evidence that Shakespeare edited and revised them, evidence they were published with his permission, quite a few sonnets are based on pre-existing sources, and, most damnably of all, none of the most likely candidates for the so-called Fair Youth and Dark Lady fit the narrative of the Sonnets perfectly or even satisfactorily—if there is even a clear narrative to these things to begin with. Sonnets were artificial works whose clichés and conventions were heavily satirized in Shakespeare’s own works—Berowne’s own rant-y sonnet swearing he would never believe in love sonnets comes most readily to mind. They were usually not meant to denote an actual real-life relationship, although there was a kind of “game” in trying to figure out which parts are true and which ones fiction. At least one sonnet sequence had a completely fictional addressee (Fulke Greville, I think).

Shakespeare’s sonnets do break a lot of these rules and conventions, and radically, and as they seem to have been compiled over many years, they lend themselves to autobiographical speculation. But, as a bit of a poet myself, I feel this: No one writes 154 sonnets—plus a whole narrative poem!—to one lover or even multiple lovers. Poetry is much less personal than laypeople think. Outside the sonnets, Shakespeare is not linked to any man romantically, and, besides his wife, only to two women (unnamed citizen’s wife and Jane Devanant).

Even if we assume Shakespeare’s bi, though, that doesn’t mean R&J is a queer narrative, which brings us to…

It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society.

A queer narrative that has its lovers express their love through the language of heterosexual marriage (husband, lord, wife, lady, pilgrim/saint), and commit suicide by a chalice-and-blade symbolism that mimics heterosexual sex (Romeo drinking a “cup” of poison and Juliet stabbing herself with Romeo’s dagger. Freud couldn’t have done it better). If Shakespeare was thinking “gay allegory!!!” he would have had to at least change or erase the symbolism (straight coding?) of the double suicide, or have Juliet attribute to Romeo explicitly feminine imagery. He would have to have done some major plot rejiggering. He would have had to, in short, change the whole story.

(Unless by “queer narrative” you mean “anything that has an emotionally constipated male lead who doesn’t growl sexily and a female lead who doesn’t cry/faint at the drop of a hat.” That’d be most every narrative, lol.)

Also, I’m hard-pressed to think of love romances that are 100% patriarchal narratives, and those that do (Casablanca, maybe?) are not really true ones, anyway. Patriarchy inherently opposes all romances of love and sex, including heterosexual. It demands that men be raised as soldiers to kill enemies, slaughtered, and discarded, and women as chattel and land to be bought and sold. Marriage was that transferral of property. Having children is necessary, not out of love and care for them, but to propagate the species and create even more future warriors and womb incubators. It grudgingly accepts only (mostly straight and like maybe 1 or 2 gay) love narratives that can be subsumed into this narrow paradigm, but the tension of interpretation is always present. Ideally, it prefers to ignore, diminish, scorn and mock, or even suppress them. I suspect most people’s problems and discomfort with R&J stem from this pathology, this deep-seated unease over anything that touches on human experience patriarchy can’t quite control or subsume.

Shakespeare was obviously no lover of patriarchy (in his personal life, though…well, it’s debatable). His plays resist it greatly to various degrees, and R&J is no exception. R&J hews much closer to the reality of heterosexual love and love in general, which are informed by, though are not inherently tied to, patriarchy (as are gay relationships, sadly). Shakespeare is just being a good writer in throwing most of that rotten apple away; it doesn’t apply to what he was trying to do, anyway. R&J’s challenge to patriarchy, though, is heterosexual in nature.

And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

True dat.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

A Letter for Parents from a Parent

Dear Parent,

If you are reading this you are most likely trying to be a good parent in an extremely confusing situation and are probably getting lots of conflicting information. You are doing the right thing and can get through this.

I am not an “expert.” I am a father of five and a private music and martial arts teacher who deals with many kids. I grew up in a family with several bisexual individuals and I’ve dealt with these issues directly and indirectly all of my life.

Take a deep breath. Read slowly. You may need to read a little bit at a time and walk away to think. You may be reading this because you suspect, or have discovered, that your child is bisexual, or because your child or someone else has told you so. (Do not assume anything about your loved one based on someone else.) If your child has spoken to you, be understanding and provide a safe, accepting atmosphere. If your child has not, create an atmosphere in which he or she can do so when ready.

By bisexuality, I simply mean the physical and/or emotional attraction to both males and females. Most people who identify as bisexual consider it an independent sexual orientation, not a subset of other more widely-recognized categories. Don’t think of bisexuality as a little bit gay (homosexual) and a little bit straight (heterosexual) but as its own orientation with its own characteristics. People often ask why anyone would choose to be gay or bi (shorthand for bisexual). Most people do not feel that their sexual orientation is a choice; you probably don’t. Our best course of action is to respect the identity of our family and friends, assuming nothing.

I have no clue how many people experience bisexuality or identify as bisexuals. From what I’ve read experts don’t know either; estimates range from only a few to a whole lot of people. The fact is that scientists define bisexuality in many ways. Until they can agree on a definition, these studies are just good ways to spend grant money.

Some bi people are out and open about their sexuality, but many are in the closet (hiding their sexuality), mainly for fear of familial, spiritual and social rejection. Imagine how hard that must be. A bi person—especially a young one—often feels alone, but as a parent, you can help your child find safe ways to discover that he or she is not.

Some bi folks have an almost balanced attraction to the genders, while others prefer one gender and are only occasionally attracted to the other, or have a shifting preference. Some people shift their sexual identity and may have long periods where they identify as straight, bi, or gay. Other people drop labels altogether.

What you have done as a parent has not made your child bisexual, but what you do as a parent can contribute to how comfortable and healthy your child is. There isn’t a cure since it isn’t a disorder, but some people will assure you that it can be cured or is just a phase. That phase thing is confusing, because some people have felt some bisexual tendencies and then gone on to assume a completely homo- or heterosexual identity. This doesn’t mean that everyone who experiences bisexual feelings will. It only means some people experience bisexual feelings that they may or may never act on and identify as gay or straight. Other people live a perfectly happy life identifying as bisexual with feelings that they may or may never act on. Many bisexual men and women have happy monogamous relationships, while some bi people prefer more alternative relationship styles. There are no rules in this area, so I can’t tell you what to expect.

You may have some phases of your own. People finding out that their child is bisexual have been known to experience anger, disbelief, denial, grief – and pretty much every other unpleasant emotion – and some pleasant ones. I can’t tell you what you are feeling, will feel, or should feel. If at any time you or your child are uncomfortable with what you feel, talk to a friend or a professional. There are also support groups.

It may help a lot to talk to your child, who will know more about their feelings than all of the websites, books, and experts out there. You could even help each other through your mutual concerns. If you don’t know how your child feels, tell them so and ask. You may want to consider sharing with your child any bisexual feelings or experiences that you may have had.

As far as letting others—even another parent—know, your child should decide who will know and when, even if it puts you in an awkward situation. Ultimately each person must decide how out he or she wants to be and as loved ones we should respect that. Some people are out in a very “we’re here, we’re queer” way (queer has been adopted by many people with non-mainstream sexual or gender identities) and wear the t-shirt, while others are less expressive.

Sexuality differences also make for social safety issues. Like it or not, kids experiment, so you might consider ensuring that your child has a safe place to bring a date even if you have to stretch your own comfort level. Nobody wants a late night call from an angry parent who just found your child making out with theirs. Trust me: It is far worse when the children are the same sex and this was the first inkling that the other parent had. When straight kids are caught making out in the back seat of a car or in an empty gym, cops, teachers and security guards handle it with one approach; but when those kids are of the same sex, hurtful things are often said or done—sometimes even dangerous things. An ounce of prevention can save a lot of embarrassment and harm.

The scariest thing for me is the suicide rate among gay and bisexual young people. I watched one of my children die at birth and I will do anything to never see that happen again. If that means that I have to get over any of my own issues I will, and I have. Suicide is preventable. Be there for your kid even if you are confused. Don’t be silent because you are afraid that you might say the wrong thing. Bisexuals, especially young bisexual men from the age of fifteen to twenty-five years of age, take their own lives at an alarming rate. Don’t let it happen in your family.

As you look around, you may notice that bisexuality is not very visible in our culture. Given how many experience bisexuality or bisexual feelings at some time, you would expect more. But as a culture, we tend to think in terms of a hetero- and homosexual duality; bisexuality just doesn’t come up and isn’t considered in legal, educational, social and health areas. Some groups have also had specific political agendas to exclude bisexuals and have made an effort to institutionalize biphobia (fear of bisexuals) within our culture. This context has a lot to do with a person’s choice to be out about their bisexuality or to stay in the closet, which makes it rude and even harmful to “out” someone (inappropriately inform others about someone else’s sexual identity).

Another common misconception about bisexuals or any LGBT (lesbian, gay, bi, and transgender) individuals is the issue of promiscuity. Just because your child has a non-straight sexuality or gender identity does not make him or her any more promiscuous than straight kids. And yes, your son or daughter may know his or her sexual orientation and still be a virgin. Your child’s sexual orientation doesn’t matter: You need to talk to him or her about safer sex. If you haven’t, you should be researching that and talking to your child.

You may also be wondering about gender roles and gender identity. Simply put, “Is my son going to start acting like a girl?” “Is my daughter going to start acting like a boy? What should I do?” Do nothing yet, because you may be confused. Gender identity is how a person identifies their own gender and leads to what gender role they fill through behavior. Most bi people maintain their birth gender identity and the accompanying social gender role. People who are shifting their gender identity away from their birth gender and behaving according to the social roles of the non-birth gender are transgender; this is not linked to homo- or bisexuality. A transperson may be bi, gay or straight. But as a good parent, you may want to explain this detail to your child, because he or she might think there is a certain way they’re supposed to act, such as queeny (stereotypical Hollywood character idea of effeminate gay), butch (stereotypical masculine dyke image) or even androgynous (displaying gender role elements from both masculine and feminine social images—the classic rock star stereotype). Your child is allowed to be as feminine or masculine as he or she feels. And those feelings may change with time.

Bisexuality as an identity was identified by name in the 1800s, though we know that it has been around since Sappho and Alexander the Great. In the last few decades it has strengthened socially. There was an unfortunate time when there was tension between bisexuals and the gay and lesbian community. You will run across remnants, but those wounds continue to heal. In recent years, there has been a lot of growth toward community. There are now organizations, such as PFLAG, to help bisexuals and their families.

By reading this you are doing what every parent of every GLBT child should be doing: learning and trying. As long as you are willing to keep learning and trying, you will ultimately get it right. You will make mistakes, but you can fix them. Love your child, not your bisexual child. Love your child who is a person who feels and loves and hates and hurts and dreams and wonders, and who happens to be bisexual.

Sincerely,

Robert L. Barton

[planetsam]

someone sent me this: I need a fic where Alex is like catnip for queer male aliens. After they find more aliens they all vying for his attention showing him their ‘gift’ and Michael is all like ‘yeah levitate the fuck out of here asshole’

“I have come to court the fair Captain Alex Manes,” the alien announces, “I was blessed with the gift to make fire and I offer it to the Captain, to use as he will.”

Alex looks stunned.

Michael looks between the both of them so quickly he thinks he may strain his neck. Alex looks stunned but not offended or upset or any of the things Michael is hoping he would. The alien recognizes and seizes this opportunity. The plume of fire he creates is blue and orange and gold. It flares up, folds down on itself and then rises in the shape of two birds that soar around the room before flying in a heart in front of Alex and exploding into more rainbow tinted fire.

“That was amazing,” Alex says, “what did you say your name was?”

“I am Arun of Antar,” he says.

“You’re very talented,” Alex compliments.

“You flatter me,” Arun says.

Michael decides Arun better start thinking of other planets to be ‘of’ because he’s going to kick him off this one.

“Did you see that?” Alex says excitedly, “Darany is so talented.”

“Darany is a dick,” Michael says, “what good is making sparkles?”

“I think it’s cool,” Alex says with a shrug.

Michael feels sick. When the three of them decided to bring ‘Team Alien’ to Antar, they knew they were going to get a heroes welcome. And it was great to see their friends be lauded for everything. It wasn’t like they were going to get the credit they deserved on earth. Antar is a culture of warriors. Battlefield warriors. Which means that Alex, the one of them with any battlefield experience, is suddenly surrounded by more admirers than he knows what to do with. A female Antarian works up the courage to ask to court him. She is so nervous and looks so crestfallen that Alex, being Alex, tells her that if he was attracted to women she would be top of the list and inadvertently outs himself in the process.

And that is when the men start arriving.

Alex tries not to look flattered by the attention which only makes him more attractive somehow. He also tries to not look interested but Michael can see how he shifts depending on the guy. He stops trying to hide his prosthetic after he realizes the society treats him like a warrior who has done something honorable instead of a burden. Seeing the change in Alex, Michael is happy. Happy for his friend. Alex deserves to be happy with whoever he wants. Michael repeats it over and over again, but if Alex falls in love with a different Antarian and stays on Antar then Michael thinks he might die.

“I am Nimith,” the latest man says and Michael swears silently because this guy looks like he walked off of the cover of Rolling Stone, “I make music.”

Oh hell no.

“You do?” Alex sits up, genuinely interested and Nimith’s hot guy persona cracks into something equally interested in Alex the man, “what do you play?”

“I am master of the Antarian Lyre,” he says, “may I play for you?”

Alex nods and leans forward as Nimith produces a stringed instrument and starts to play. He’s good. Fuck him he’s really good. Alex’s gaze softens and it’s a knife to Michael’s gut. This guy looks like a rock star and plays his instrument and Alex’s fingers tap to the beat of what he’s playing. Michael’s stomach drops with dread. Nimith strums out some phenomenal solo something that makes his fingers dance and all Michael can see is those fingers working Alex. Alex is thinking the same thing too, if the color on his cheeks is any indication. This asshole is making Alex blush. Michael watches as he finishes and Alex applauds—which isn’t new—and gets to his feet—which is—and comes over to him.

“I don’t know anything about Antarian music,” he says.

“May I teach you?” Nimith offers.

“I’d like that,” Alex says.

Nimith extends a hand and Alex leaves with him.

Michael goes back to his room, screams into a pillow and has a new appreciation for the years Alex spent watching him sleep his way through Roswell. The music is just salt in the wound, but if he thinks about it it’s more deserved than he wants to admit.

“So are you done with suitor hour now that you’re making music with Nimith?” Michael asks.

“Am I what?” Alex repeats with a laugh, “what are you talking about?”

“Suitor hour, where all the available guys on Antar come and introduce themselves and show how big their ‘abilities’ are,” he says, “you gonna stop that now that you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“That is not what’s happening,” Alex says, his face red, “and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Michael shouldn’t be nearly as relieved to hear that as he is. Alex picks at the bowl of noodles, his eyebrows drawn together and Michael’s relief turns to nausea as Alex does that deep breath thing he does when he’s about to say something he doesn’t want to. He focuses his gaze on Michael and Michael desperately wishes that he could look away.

“Do you have a problem with it?”

“What? No!” Michael lies, “of course not. We agreed things didn’t work between us, I want you to be happy.”

“So if I stayed on Antar and was with one of them, it wouldn’t bother you?”

“No,” he says, “I’d be happy for you. You should stay for someone you love,” he continues, “I can’t think of a better reason.”

Alex gives him a look that turns the nausea into a literal ache. He stands up. They said no more walking away. They promised each other. He opens his mouth to remind Alex, to say something that will make him come back so they can go back to how things were five minutes ago. Alex looks at him cooly and Michael wants to yell.

“We said no more walking away,” he says.

“We also said no more lying,” Alex replies, “I have to go get ready for my ‘Suitor Hour’” he says. Michael looks away, “don’t bother coming to babysit.”

“What? That’s not what I’m doing,” he protests, getting to his feet.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Alex tells him, finally looking at him again, “but I’m going to go meet the men who have come here because they want to get to know me. I don’t want to do it with you glaring at them anymore.”

“I’m not glaring at them!” Michael protests. Alex gives him a withering look. Right. Shit. No lies. “They aren’t good enough for you,” he says finally.

Alex shakes his head.

“That isn’t for you to decide.”

Michael knows that people said the same thing about him. And God, they were right weren’t they? He isn’t good enough for someone as incredible as Alex. He never will be. Everyone knew it, even Alex eventually figured it out. He feels sick as he looks at him. He’s jealous of everything that runs through his head as Alex folds his napkin, nods at the staff and walks away. Because he won’t keep all the men who are here to recognize how good he is waiting. Because in addition to being possibly the best person Michael has ever met, Alex is also punctual.

Fuck, no wonder he’s still in love with him.

“Would you like refreshments brought to the chamber?” One of the servants asks, “since you and Captain Manes didn’t finish?”

He looks at her blankly.

“He just banned me,” he says.

“But, sir,” she says, “this is your palace. Technically, he can’t ban you from anything.”

Michael doesn’t wear authority particularly well.

On Antar this is thrown into sharp relief when he keeps forgetting that he’s technically second in command of an entire fucking planet. He remembers thumbing through one of those tabloids Isobel used to get and reading about how the new royals kept scandalizing everyone by opening their own doors and shit. It’s not until he sees his face on the Altar equivalent because he held open the door for someone who was technically a servant that he understands. He does a better job after that at least attempting to follow protocol.

But he does keep forgetting just how much power he has now. He ignores it a lot of the time. Even when the guys come to court Alex, they always look at him. He glares because he hates them, but he never outright stops it. Because he’s a jerk in a lot of ways but even he’s not that much of a dick. He can’t use his authority against Alex. Or Alex’s endless stream of suitors. Alex kicks him out of Suitor Hour and he forces himself to respect that. It’s Alex. Alex doesn’t love him like that and he has to keep reminding himself of it. Alex gets to be happy.

Alex doesn’t speak to him but Suitor Hour stops happening as frequently. Which Michael is initially relieved about but then bolts up one night overcome with the terror that Alex has stopped it because he’s found someone. It’s a palace, his palace, and it doesn’t take much for him to find out the last name on the list is Rith. Rith is in the army Michael technically commands and is gifted with the power of air manipulation. He could be his evil twin. So Michael does the thing he’s been avoiding and visits his army, incognito. He has Rith’s training interrupted and the man brought to him.

“General Rath, Sir!”

Seeing his evil twin/Alex’s boyfriend flatten himself in a deep bow is going in his head under those truly great moments in his life. Like the time he rolled Max’s first jeep. Rith stands when he motions for him to and goes into a formal military posture as Michael tries to see why he’s so much better. They barely look alike aside from curly hair and their general build. Rith’s eyes are blue. Maybe Alex has a thing for blue eyes. After a moment of being inspected, Rith glances at him.

“Sir?”

“I’m in charge of this whole place,” Michael says, trying to sound stern but winding up just sounding like Max, “I could ruin everything for you.”

“Sir, I know, Sir,” Rith says.

“So if Alex isn’t the picture of happiness, if I hear one breath that you’re not treating him right, I will ruin you,” he says.

“Sir?”

“What about that is confusing?” He demands.

“Nothing, Sir, if I was with Captain Manes I would do anything to make him happy. But—“ Michael glares, “sir, Captain Manes and I are not together. He thanked me for coming but said he couldn’t be with me. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Did he say why not?” Michael asks before he can stop himself.

“No, sir,” Rith says, “it’s what he’s said to everyone.”

Michael nods. Rith hesitates for a moment. Michael waves his formality off, signaling that he can speak. Rith still looks nervous as hell which is fair. Michael’s not great at authority and this puts him squarely in the ‘Max Zone’ of using it poorly. Not exactly a place he ever wanted to be. Rith seems like an okay dude so maybe he’s the evil twin in all of this.

“Sir, Captain Manes is waiting for you.”

“Where?” Michael asks, looking around. If Alex sees him he really is never going to speak to him.

“Not here, sir, I meant in general. Captain Manes always speaks highly of you,” he says, “actually, he only speaks of you. And if I may, sir, everyone else has noticed how you look when Captain Manes shows interest. Everyone except Captain Manes.”

“Well I sit behind him so—“ Michael winces. Rith clears his throat instead of smiling, “what’s your point? Alex and I agreed to be friends.”

“On earth, sir,” Rith says, “you aren’t on earth anymore. Do you have such an agreement on Antar?”

Michael makes a note to promote him.

“Okay I’m here,” Alex says, “what’s this about?”

His voice is tight with frustration. But he doesn’t scoff or do any of the things he usually does when he’s frustrated with him. Actually Michael hears his feet stop mid step and pause completely. He knows the look on Alex’s face without turning around. He doesn’t blame his confusion, God knows he feels completely ridiculous. He never played dress up as a kid and until very recently, all of his clothing was multipurpose. The most formal thing he owned was a black suit that was a rental he never returned. He rarely felt comfortable in his own skin, let alone dressing it up.

As it turns out, Antarian Ceremonial Amor makes earth dressing up feel like a joke.

It’s heavy and guided and Michael thought it was stupid to have actual armor and ceremonial armor but now he sees the distinction. His only available combat move is to roll into a ball and hope he hits what he’s aiming at. Don’t get him wrong, the thing is a work of art. Thousands of metal plates overlap each other, each placed so artfully that all together the design they create is visible from every angle. It’s a silvery color but it’s made of an Antar alloy. His skin is saved by what he privately thinks is the nicest onesie in existence, but what he has been informed is the proper undergarment. Draped along his back is the cloak that bears Max’s sigil and his own, showing the unity of their two houses.

He looks good.

That doesn’t mean he’s not nervous as fuck when he turns around. Alex’s jaw drops and if Michael was comparing himself to any of the other suitors, he would say that gives him almost as wide a lead as Nimith. Alex’s eyes drag over his body and if he didn’t have heavy ass armor on, he’d feel like he was being undressed. They settle on his face and Alex’s jaw closes and clenches. Michael knows he’s still in trouble. That’s okay, he’s good at being in trouble. Especially when he’s dressed up like a fucking storybook character.

“What is this about?” Alex repeats.

“I’m here to announce my intention to court you,” he says.

“No.”

Flat out refusal is something no-one else has gotten. Alex at least humors them. Alex doesn’t look amused and he doesn’t look like he’s going to give him the chance. Michael glares.

“What do you mean no? Why not?” Alex scowls, “you said yes to Prak. Prak had no gift and wrote you a bad poem!”

“Prak was nice.”

“Prak was almost as useless as Borey. He did origami for an uncomfortably long time.”

“That city was impressive.”

“Why are they allowed to court you and I’m not?!” He demands, “why do they get to try to make you fall for them and I can’t?”

“Because I’m already in love with you!”

It’s not the answer he was expecting.

Alex makes a noise and turns around as Michael stares at him in confusion. They’ve established the love each other, but they aren’t in love. Except apparently they were both lying about that. Michael toys with the edge of his cloak as Alex takes a deep breath before turning around to face him. He’s trying for calm and collected but Michael can see the turmoil in him. Alex doesn’t want to have this conversation, but maybe Alex does want to be with him. Michael isn’t sure which emotion to choke on.

“You’re in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you,” Alex says.

“But why—“ Michael frowns, “all those guys—“

“We agreed we didn’t work,” Alex says, “and I like meeting new people,” Michael frowns, sensing this isn’t the whole story, “and I knew you would be there.”

“The dude parade was an excuse to spend time with me?” He blurts out.

Alex looks away and gives the smallest nod.

“We didn’t work on earth,” Michael says abruptly, remembering the crux of his speak to convince Alex to let him take him out, “we’re not on earth.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Alex says.

“Okay,” Michael looks down and then looks at him, “then let me court you because I love you.”

Alex stares at him. Michael knows he’s been hopeless in the actually saying how he feels department. Even now it’s been that he feels the same, it’s always Alex who says the words. Names the emotions. But Michael has never been more sure of anything in his life. He steps forward, determination in everything he is.

“Let me court you, because I was trying to let you be happy but I felt sick every time you liked a guy. I’m in charge of a lot here,” he says, “I could have sent them all away,” Alex glares, “but let court you because you never cared that I didn’t have any of this. Let me court you because I’ve loved you on two planets and could love you anywhere. Let me give you every reason to stay here.”

Alex stares at him, wide eyed and parted lips. They’ve moved closer throughout the conversation to the dais where they sat and Michael gently pushes Alex onto his chair. Moving fast in ceremonial armor is not easy but he makes it to the entrance in record time and approaches the chair and the stunned Alex all over again. He ignores any nerves as he does the best bow he can manage, following every one of those stupid ass Antarian court rules that he’s been drilling.

“I am Michael of the Airstream, alternately known as Rath of Antar. I am blessed with the ability to move things with my mind, play the guitar, hold my own in a bar fight and I can make a truly life changing quesadilla,” he says, “I offer it to Alex, to use as he will. For as long as he wants.”

Alex closes his eyes and dips his head. When he looks up, Michael feels his heart explode with hope. Alex gets up and starts towards him.

“Can I court you?” He asks again.

“No,” Alex says. Michael frowns. Alex smiles, “courting comes before being in a relationship. There’s no touching involved.”

“Oh, shit,” Michael vaguely remembers hearing that somewhere, “we should skip that. If I can ever get out of this stuff—“

Alex kisses him, catching him off guard but it only takes a moment for him to catch up. The entire time he’s been in his palace, he’s felt like an imposter. It’s truly mind boggling how all it takes is Alex kissing him to make him feel like he’s home. It doesn’t matter that he could fit about a billion airstreams in the palace. Alex kisses him and he’s back in the airstream, almost bumping into all four walls. This, he thinks dimly, must be what people mean when they say home is a person. He can barely feel Alex through the armor but at the moment it’s worth it just to stand there and know that Alex has heard him say he loves him. That it got him another chance he has no intention of wasting. Michael opens his eyes and looks up at Alex who finally looks happy. Happier than Michael has seen him in far too long.

“So you know more about Antar courting rituals than I do,” he says breathlessly.

“I can also play the Lyre,” Alex tells him, equally breathless.

“Hot. How much touching are we allowed?” Alex kisses him again in response, “how are you with taking off armor? Think you can figure it out?”

Alex drops his cloak in response.

Michael barely remembers to lock the chamber.

[nerdygaymormon]

I'm... scared... of your blog. It goes against a whole lot of what I was taught to believe and follow growing up. But, at the same time, I've been hurt deeply by that... doctrine... and I've only just begun to see and understand the extent of that damage. So... what if this is what my wounded and weeping soul has been searching for... since I can't pick up any "official text" without having a violent physical reaction that is drowning in pain and fear? 1/?

I can't even get near a chapel or temple without reacting. And I can't bring myself to confide in any of my local bishopric or ward members. As a result, I've been suffering alone. I know I need therapy because this is some deep, messed up shit, but I have not been able to find a compassionate professional and I'm not want to continue the search. I've neither the funds nor the energy. 2/?

I'm 34yo born and raised in the Church. Three years ago I experienced something that made me question heavily whether Gd still loved me because I for sure felt damned. And that event caused the floodgates to open, I suppose. I've not been active for years due to chronic illness and being treated like some sort of sub-human because of my disability. I used to maintain a current temple recommend but not anymore. 3/?

I think I'm asexual. And the more and more I think about this, the more and more it explains some aspects of me that I thought were broken. (No desire to date as a teen, no feelings of sexual attraction to anyone, confusion about terms like "infatuation" and "crush", confused and disgusted by sex and the world's obsession with it.) But, at the same time, the more and more I grew to like this term, the worse my feeling of being Rejected by Gd became. 4/? 

But, even before I adopted the term, I began to feel unwanted and damned because of a history of attempted molestation at 5 years old and being taught that I was 'chewed gum' amongst other doctrines that insisted that my every decision and move was responsible for the sexual purity of the male mind. I felt violated in almost everything that I wore that I felt "pretty" in because I was under the belief I was a walking sin. 5/?

I say I'm scared of your blog... yet I read through several posts last night, body shaking and nauseous with fear and guilt. And here I am, unloading in your askbox because I'm so desperate for someone to talk to who won't judge me like I've been judged all my life. The last time I went to church, I ran out of Sacrament in tears, hyperventilating in my car for several minutes. I have not been back since. 6/?

I want to believe that I'm still loved. I want to believe that I'm still wanted. There is a vicious war going in within me, complicated by chronic and mental illness, that I've lost my sensitivity concerning Gd. I can't tell if or when He's talking to me because the constant anxiety, fear and pain drown out the more 'subtle' emotions. And the maladaptive coping mechanisms I've developed likely don't help either... 7/?

Thank you for listening... if you have anything insightful that you think might help, I'd like to read it. (I hope all these messages stayed anonymous...) 8/8

———————————————————————

Wow, the feels. You said so much. I recognize you’re in a hard place. 

—————————  

Don’t worry, you managed to stay anonymous. I know when sending multiple asks it’s to forget to push the anon option.

—————————  

Congrats on figuring out you are asexual (ace). 

I think discovering a lack of something is difficult. There’s all these hints along the way but then once you figure it out, it all makes sense, everything fits.  

Don’t be afraid to change your labels. We use words to describe how we understand ourselves. If the way you understand yourself changes, it’s fine to change your labels. 

—————————  

Having a chronic illness can be difficult, it can take over a life as you organize things around it. Having a disability also can be challenging, especially if it’s one that is visible to others because they often view you as your disability. 

The thing is, you have a personality that wants to be displayed, I can tell that just from these messages you sent me. As people spend time with you and get to know you, they will start seeing you and not your disability. 

—————————  

Things that you described about your feelings and reactions make me believe therapy would help. I’m no mental health professional, but I wonder if you have have the symptoms of PTSD (church caused you trauma) and an anxiety disorder. 

If you have insurance that will cover some sessions, look for a provider that takes your insurance. If you don’t, I know that therapy can be expensive. 

About 2 years ago I needed to see a therapist and I checked at my local university. They had a psychological services clinic where Ph.D. students could gain experience, so the price was reduced, and my therapy was overseen by professors who are up-to-date in their field.  

If you can’t get to therapy now, and if you want to go to church, it helps a lot to have someone you know that can go with you, like a security blanket. It makes it less scary to enter that space. 

If you don’t have someone like that, try contacting the missionaries, explain you haven’t been to church in a while but want to come back. They will be so happy to greet you in the lobby and have you sit with them. And if you want, they will introduce you around to others. 

—————————  

Tbh, I was very surprised at how you describe my blog. I didn’t realize someone would view it the way you did. 

It’s true that I think our church is wrong on LGBTQIA+ topics. This is because of a few things:

1) I feel the spirit let me know that God loves me as I am, a gay man, and that I’m not broken. This is how I’m meant to be. 

2) What we learn about our Heavenly Parents and how they love us and are fair and just, and they treat us the same and view humankind as alike. I can’t believe they would set up a whole group of their children to fail and not have a path to return to them.

3) Jesus stood with those who were on the margins, He spent time lifting others and taught us that real religion is helping others, especially those who are downtrodden and on the margins. 

4) The Church doesn’t show LGBTQIA+ people as a part God’s Plan. The Church doesn’t know what to do with us. And it’s not a good space for queer people so most LGBTQIA+ members leave. This is not good fruit and it’s not what I think God would want, for whole groups of people to not feel welcomed.

I don’t reject the principles of the gospel, I want them to apply to all of us, even me, a gay man, and even you, an asexual woman. We are beautiful, we have a purpose, we deserve to be accepted and have joy. 

I guess that is rebellious and dangerous because it challenges the Church’s narrative about people like you and me. 

I let people in church tell me terrible things and for so long I believed them. I don’t anymore. 

Refusing the shame that church gives us as queer people, that’s radical. Church is supposed to help us be better, not wear us down. 

You can love yourself and be happy as ace. This is part of how God made you, you don’t have to deny this is how you experience life. 

—————————

What are your goals? What kind of person do you want to be? What do you want your life to be like? 

My psychologist used to have me write what I would like my life to be like, and then we made goals to start doing those. 

You are capable of change. 

This is your life. 

God has given you talents. We’re not supposed to hide them under a bushel. Work on developing them and developing yourself. 

You are your own longest investment. Investing in yourself is a gift to the world, it’s how we develop ourselves and increases our capacity to help others.

—————————

I hope you feel I understood what you were trying to say to me. 

I also hope I gave you some things to think about, to ponder, and figure out what feels right to you.

[doctors-star]

👀👀👀👀👀👀at those tags on the hedonism post. An essay you say?

i gotta be real with you this is just the kind of thing i think about in the kitchen at 7pm dramatically lipsyncing to rose tint my world while waiting for pasta to boil rather than a full essay with thesis statement, quotation and any kind of conclusion

BUT

(and here’s the post for context)

we can all agree, i’m sure, that the rocky horror picture show and the picture of dorian gray are both pretty queer, albeit in fairly drastically different styles. i don’t think your average cinema would play them back to back, you know. but what’s key about them both is that they’re concerned with gothic horror, murder, the public/private persona, hedonism/aestheticism, and how all of this ties into being queer. let’s a-go.

the gothic horror in both is fairly obvious, as is the murder. people die, and it’s grim. both tpodg and trhps have strong connections to other gothic horror novels, particularly frankenstein and dr jekyll and mr hyde. the scene in which dorian murders basil (should i have tagged this post for spoilers? the book’s like a hundred years old.) takes place in the perfect gothic setting: it’s dark and foggy and nothing can be seen. secrecy is key. similarly, mr hyde cavorts about london, leaping from streetlight to streetlight and hiding in the shadows (a creature of the night!). basil then gets melted by dorian’s ex, a mad scientist type a la frankenstein with secrets and poor morals. in trhps, frankenfurter is called FRANKENFURTER and literally makes a man. the comparison here seems fairly obvious. but he also flip flops between being nice and friendly and then suddenly terrible, like dr jeykll/mr hyde. so there’s this idea in both works of the protagonist being queer, and a criminal, and somehow horrible. the horror is partly due to the crime, but mostly-

-the public/private persona. the victorians, who created the gothic horror genre, were obsessed with the idea of people being secretly terrible, and this being hidden from view somehow. think of the modern obsession with serial killers being hidden amongst us by looking like normal people. dorian hides his queerness and his crimes; he looks beautiful, like the model young man, quite without sin because it does not show on his face, but in reality he is a disgusting murderer and a homosexual. this is more horrifying than his crimes - that they are hidden, and that he was trusted to be in society. both works also take place in grand houses, where the elite might live; trusted high-ups in society, to whom one might go for legal representation, or the use of a telephone when one has broken down. frankenfurter’s persona is more obvious: he’s “not much of a man by the light of day”, although there is something of the not-quite-as-it-appears about his dress. the better comparison with dorian, though, is brad: he looks like a normal american dude! he’s supposed to! the male audience is supposed to see themselves in him, to experience frankenfurter’s whole...thing through this bland, face-of-america man. and then! he fucks frankenfurter?? he’s...not straight after all??? queer people could be anyone, anywhere - your student, your fiance, your man, the man in the mirror who looks just like you. and it isn’t obvious, like it isn’t obvious with dorian - these characters are trusted by their peers, even if not consistently by the audience; they are the lens through which the audience views the stories; and then they turn out to be queer and somehow other, without even being noticed. this is essentially everything that homophobes fear and hate about queer people: that they don’t all look like frank, but might look like dorian or brad. the gothic horror concept of the persona, used to hide what is horrible and insinuate it into polite society (think dr jekyll/mr hyde again), is associated heavily with closeted queer people in both tpodg and trhps and, as the original post points out, is pretty fucked up to unpack!

both also concern themselves with hedonism and aestheticism, being doing things for the sheer damn pleasure of it. think of the fabulous parties, ostentatious fashion, the...exotic...meals, the sexuality, the art. so there’s this idea of queerness being hidden and horrible, but also something that happens when people go too far. aestheticism went beyond the bounds of polite victorian society and wound up in fashion and art and, as far as many were concerned, homosexuality; people saw it as something that had simply gone too far. a “libido that hasn’t been controlled,” if you will. hedonism and drinking and, of course, the prerequisite aesthetic gay can also be found in other works, such as bright young things and brideshead revisited. dorian does whatever he likes, just because he likes, be it drinking or taking drugs or carrying on with society youths. frank also does as he likes, by dressing against societal norms and holding wild parties and clearly not doing whatever it was he was sent here to do. dr scott is worried about “this decadence sap[ping] our will” and this loss of control leading to living just “for the thrills” - what these thrills might be is, from context, clearly sexual and probably p gay! but ultimately dorian and frank are punished for their hedonism when it all catches up to them: dorian goes fuck-ugly and shrivelled and dies, and frank is taken prisoner - “your lifestyle’s too extreme.” in bright young things, miles is arrested; in brideshead revisited, blanche gets sent down and sebastian goes spectacularly off the rails and eventually dies.

so the idea of queerness being pleasure taken too far is prominent in both works - a pleasure that is twisted until it is a horror, and then is punished. but even then, at the end of the works, what has been done cannot be undone. you cannot put the lid back on this box - people have died, lives have been forever altered, society and the audience have looked behind a fabulous curtain into a world that is a distorted, hidden mirror of their own. you can break the mirror, but i still don’t think brad and janet are going to get married, do you? the point of the superheroes sequence in trhps, which i never really got before, is to demonstrate this: the aliens are gone, but brad and janet and dr scott are still confused and “lost in space and meaning”. tpodg just leaves us with the the beautiful, damaged portrait and the horrific corpse, staining the attic - there is no neat closure. the grave is left open, with the reader peering in. things are not going to be the same - and neither are you. you went along on this journey, too. you saw the fabulous worlds that go too far, that are so beyond the societal norm that they’re wildly enjoyable, entirely risque, quite wonderfully beautiful, and dark, terrible, and dripping with blood. you are basil hallward, brad and janet, lord henry and dr scott, and you’ve changed too. there is queerness and horror amongst us, and now you know to look.

but yeah as an aesthetic homoeroticism/crime/hedonism is pretty damn cool.

[sunbrights]

inktober #17: ornament

fandom: the magicians characters/pairings: this is a mosaic fic bc i'm a SAD SAPPY BITCH rating: t

“Green,” Quentin says, again.

“If it turns out the answer was ‘the spirit of Christmas’ all along,” Eliot says thoughtfully, slotting yet another green tile into F9, “I might actually, completely lose my shit.”

It’s Q’s pattern, so he’s the one up in the chair today, wrapped in a quilt and with their workbook flopped open in his lap. He leans up just enough to poke Eliot between the shoulderblades with the stick they use for orchestrating, the one that Eliot picked up on a whim years ago, and that Q has since shaped and smoothed into something actually useful.

“Shut up,” he says, all warmth. “It’s fun.” And then he says again, like Eliot even needs the guidance at this point: “Green.”

Christmas is a new thing. It’s Q’s new thing. And Quentin isn’t, like, a Christmas person, one of those people who prostrate themselves beneath red and green coffee cups and the one Mariah Carey song they know; he’d never even mentioned it before, in all the years they’ve already been here. But he mentioned it this year. Picked a day out and everything.

(“I just,” he’d mumbled into Eliot’s chest when he first floated the idea, late at night and unable to sleep, “I keep thinking about how when I was a kid, my dad—”

And Eliot doesn’t get it, but… he gets it. So: Christmas.)

They leave the last tile— a bright yellow one that goes right at the center of the star atop Q’s angular, geometric Christmas tree— for Teddy. He comes barreling out of the house on wobbly, excitable legs, Arielle hot on his heels, and Eliot has to catch him around the middle before he face plants right onto the puzzle.

“No,” he wails when Eliot tries to hand him the tile, months-deep already into his whirlwind toddler romance with the N-O word. “I wanna do it!”

He’s incandescently proud of himself when he’s able to squat down on his own and pick it up with both hands, his grin wide and toothy, so... really, Eliot’s the stupid one here.

“Alright,” Q coaches gently, one arm already wound around Arielle's waist like a weird, renaissance-y Christmas card. “Remember, just be careful— there you go.”

The tile slots in. Teddy pats around the edges of it like, presumably, he’s seen them do before, his little face screwed up in concentration.

Nothing happens, thank god.

Teddy doesn’t understand enough about the Mosaic to be disappointed by it. It’s only done what, from his perspective, it’s always done: nothing. So he tips his head back to look at them with that same bright, shining grin, and— honestly, Eliot barely remembers the last time he was disappointed by the Mosaic, either.

He flops dramatically back onto the tiles anyway, because Teddy still finds that shriek-laughingly hilarious, for some reason. He flops, too, fully starfished, one little boot making full-force contact with the side of Eliot's head.

“We’ll get a tree like this one today,” Q says, ever the voice of forward momentum. “Someone has to put the star on top. Who do you think it should be, Ted?”

Teddy shoots to his feet. “Me! I’ll do it!”

His hair is sticking up all over in the back. Eliot sits up enough to smooth it down for him. “You?” He lifts his chin and wrinkles his nose. Teddy scrunches his whole face back at him. “But you’re so short. How will you even reach?”

“I’m not!” He goes up on his tiptoes, arms stretched high over his head. “I can do it!”

Eliot leans back on one arm, rubs his chin, draws his thoughtful hum out, the whole nine yards. Teddy doesn’t waver for a second, hangs on to his determined eye contact, mouth set and fingers wiggling. In his periphery, Eliot can see Q rolling his eyes and Arielle hiding her smile into his temple.

Eliot snaps his fingers. “Ah. I see. How about—” and then he lunges forward to scoop Teddy up by the armpits.

Teddy shrieks again, this time right up against Eliot's ear. Which, whatever, he wasn't planning on winning any awards in long-distance listening any time soon. Teddy's just the right size now for Eliot to plop him on his shoulders, big enough and aware enough to keep himself steady without Eliot having to readjust his center of gravity every two seconds— which means he'll be way too big by this time next year, probably.

Demonstrably so, he twists his hands into Eliot's hair like the goddamn world is ending.

“See?” he crows, all his excitement kicking out through his legs. “I can do it! Daddy, I can do it!”

Q is smiling, sparkling like the whole fucking sky opened up and dumped every star in existence straight into the creases of his dimples. “You sure can, buddy.”

“Fine,” Eliot allows, catching Teddy's tiny, destructive feet in both hands, “but I get to hide the pickle.”

Arielle, who only hears the double-entendre, snorts indelicately into her hand. Teddy, who only hears the ridiculous combination of sounds that make up the word pickle, cracks up all over again.

Quentin, in his gold-star, stern-Dad-voice, says, “Eliot.”

“It’s only fair,” Eliot answers. “I did the legwork to get one, and, yes, it was exactly as tedious and impossible as it sounds. I deserve it.”

“What?” Arielle laughs, which he expects.

“What?” Quentin says at the same time, completely serious, which he doesn't.

“The ornament?” He’s getting the same blank, confused look, so he can’t help himself when he says, “Wait, what did you think I meant?”

“Eliot,” Q says again, decidedly less stern this time.

The thing with the pickle ornament is, it turns out, not as ubiquitous as Eliot assumed it was. He ends up having to explain it, which is— fine. Teddy’s excited, and Arielle thinks it’s cute, so they’ll do it. Simple. It should be validating, because it really was a pain in the ass, trying to find-slash-construct an ornament that would work.

On the other hand, he also kind of wishes he hadn’t bothered.

“We never did anything like that when I was a kid,” Quentin says, once Teddy has scurried back inside. It’s his affected-casual voice, the one he uses when he’s trying to make a point but doesn’t want to seem like he is.

“It’s really not that complicated, Q,” Eliot tells him. “But if you need help, you know I’m always happy to demonstrate.”

A wry, slanted little smile blooms across his face. “No, jackass.” And then it curls back in on itself again, quick as it came. He steps close, bumps their shoulders, tangles their arms, their elbows, their fingers. “I just, um. I’m pretty sure that makes it your tradition, El.”

Oh.

Eliot thinks it’s a weird way to frame it. Tradition is what Quentin is doing: letting the legacy of his family live on while his family isn’t here to participate. Eliot just… has a few semi-okay memories of tearing up a Christmas tree with his very Midwestern number of little cousins, and assumed everyone else did, too.

He says, “I guess.”

Q is peering up at him, searching his face. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that,” he says, when Eliot doesn’t say anything else. “If it’s... weird, or bad, then—”

“Pretty sure that ship has sailed, Q. I can tell you from experience that if that child doesn’t find a pickle by this time tomorrow, we’ll have goddamn armageddon on our hands.”

“Sure, but...”

But... what?

The pickle ornament he found isn't really a pickle. It's a western marshlands long radish. They grow for months in muck and swamp slime, and they’re an absolute bitch to cook right; simmer them too hot, or for too long, and they get awfully, nastily bitter, bad enough to spoil a whole stew.

Teddy’s the only one in the family who likes them, because Teddy’s only ever eaten them after Eliot finally got the recipe right.

“It’s okay,” he decides, right that second. He tugs Q against him, tucks his worried, furrowed brow under his chin. “It really is. It’s— good. I think.”

“You think,” Quentin echoes, softly amused, but all his tense muscles go looser, just a bit. Just enough.

“Almost certain,” Eliot tells him. “Like, at least sixty percent. Minimum.” He closes his eyes, touches his lips just to the edge of Q’s hairline, and manages, softly, “Promise.”

He’s been doing this a long time. He’s spent years, decades, whatever, just— taking all the broken, sharp-edged pieces that came tumbling out of Whiteland back in the summer of 2010, and turning them into something new. Something different. Something his.

His stupid radish ornament. His queer little family. His shrieking, beaming son. His backwards, bizarre, beautiful mess of a life.

As far as traditions go, Eliot thinks he could do worse.

[toffeetaffy]

Beast at My Side [final]

The Metronome Stutters

For a while I was haunted. Every dream was a nightmare, and every waking hour filled me with an unspeakable dread. Jane would come. I was sure of it. She would come and tear me limb from limb with her tiny hands; she would taste my blood on her pretty pink tongue. She would end me. Each morning I woke in a silent scream. The days were long, spent trembling and quaking, and praying for the end. But each end only came when I shook myself apart, the pieces of me too tired to continue quivering.

And then, one night, I dreamt of Luc.

It was easy to lose myself, to float away with him in to the night. Easy to hang myself from his smile and let the fear wash away. I hoped to awaken unburdened. New and clean. I wanted to tear my chest open and flood it with light, paint my bones a warmer shade. But things are never so easy. It is three whole months of shaking and shivering. Three whole months of wreckage and ruin.

Then came Tuesday.

Tuesday is pancakes, and short-shorts, and learning to breath again. Tuesday is classes, and friends, and thinking of him. Jasper's a fire-coloured sky when I imagine him. Stars and smoke signals. He's a thumb across my cheekbone, a mouth pressed to my own. For the first time in so, so long I ache to have him near me, but I have kept the promise I most wanted to break: I let him go. I did not follow him. I did not stop him. No matter how fervently Bella had insisted I go to him, I had left Jasper to carry out his foolish errand alone. So I make a wish. Nothing happens, of course, because wishes are little more than futile hopes. They are things we say aloud because they hurt too much to hold inside. But the thought is small and soothing so I keep on thinking it. Five words, five tiny words. I wish you were here.

Also on Tuesday, I fix things. Fix my hair, fix my nails, fix the unsightly hole in my bedroom wall. It was a childish attempt to regain control. My fist through the plaster, my fist through the grief, my fist through the unspeakable terror of being alone. But I can fix all of it. I will paint my life with a shiny new coat of Hot Pop Yellow, of Riverland Blue. I will start my life again. This story will be my own.

Tuesday is a phoenix born of Mondays ashes. It is a light in my chest. My ribs, my heart, my tender flesh and umber skin all warm and glowing. Even as the sunlight dims, I feel the heat of it. By dusk I am done. Golden and glorious. No longer half of a person, half of a pair.

On Tuesday, I am whole.

Night comes late, the tender dark drawn slowly like a veil. It feels like an omen. My phone rings in familiar staccato beeps, and I hold it up, breath thick and slow against the screen.

"Could I get a lift?"

His voice is strange after so long, softer than I remembered. Sweeter. We have three months of silence growing between us. It has bloomed and blistered in to something twisted and prideful, something almost impossible to make peace with. With silence we wounded each other. Perhaps it should have been me who spoke first, who pierced this solemn thing, but I would forgive myself my petty grudges. I have forgiven so much worse.

"Just... tell me where you are."

He does. I snatch up the keys to my ugly orange van and tear out of the apartment. The stairs are narrow. Where once the concrete walls felt like a vice—crushing, closing, clamping—there is now comfort in their closeness. My sneakers hit the tiles with a screech. The foyer is blue and grey, no more than smoke as I tear my way through it.

Then, I am driving.

Traffic's sparse until I hit the marketplace. I watch my own hands drum restlessly against the wheel, fingers stained pink by the row of stop lights. It is purgatory. Trapped in a moment, a liminal space, held motionless by the rush around me. These nerves are strange. Misplaced. The dampening neck and quickening heart are relics of a forest, a riverbed, a cabin in the snow. I draw air into my nose, into my lungs. It's sharp, and hot, and stinks of gasoline. Warm and foul. A horn blares behind me and my stomach flies in to my throat, coating my neck in a new, slick sheen of panic. I have no plan, no schedule, no idea what unseen force pulls me forward. But it's there. A thrilling compulsion to advance - no matter what. And so I do.

There are ten more minutes of queer and curious agony, of stopping and starting, of fingers tapping, before I see it. It is a strange and dusky outline. A cap drawn low, a dusty duffle slung across narrow shoulders. My heart hammers in my chest. It shakes all of my bones in turn as I steer the van off the road, as I fling open the door, as I run headlong in to the arms of the boy made of stone.

"I still hate you," I say.

"I know," he replies.

But I don't. Not any more. I spent three months learning how to forgive Jasper, learning that I cannot despise him for the man he was, a man he cannot even remember. Though fairness seldom seems to pair with judgement, I resolve to only measure the man he is today, the life he lives right now. When I tell him that, he smiles small and slow. It isn't hard to imagine that the expression is crooked from disuse, but I cannot find the courage to ask where he has been, what journey could have ruined even the smile on his lips.

He slouches low in the passenger seat of the van, lazily pulls the cap from his head. We waste a few minutes on awkward small-talk, my eyes darting between the road and him, still captivated by the sight. Greasy hair frames his face - tilted toward the windows, his eyes superfluously pulled closed. He looks human. Not just scripted, not just a series of perfectly composed affectations. Messy. Tired. Human. It would be foolish to let myself believe it, to fall prey to one of their greatest snares, but I can pretend. Just for a while. Just while his cheeks are stained red by the stop lights, just while my hands are still restless against the wheel.

When we get home he showers and changes clothes. Jasper's inhuman charms have never seemed more conspicuous than sitting at the tiny pine table in my dinky old flat. I wonder again how it is they pass for human. Their bodies too strong, their minds too quick, their pretty skins too poorly stretched to hide what lurks within. Just trying to imagine him in an ordinary classroom sets the blood roaring in my ears. People must be blind.

"Bella said you were in Volterra." He only nods in response, my disbelief is full and staggering. "Why? Why would you go there?"

"I went to fight a war."

It takes all my strength to look at him, to force my eyes on to his. When I draw air in to my lungs it feels wet and warm but comes out cold. Frigid and salty like an ocean spray. Another war. I wonder if he could ever live without battle, without bloodshed.

"It was passed time someone ended Jane's grudge against Bella." He seems troubled by his own thoughts, by even the force of gravity on his anchored form. "And that meant getting rid of Aro, the one who pulled her strings."

Regicide. Air bursts in to my chest in sickly hiccups, my fingers twist and flex. Jasper has killed a king. The story he tells is dark and treasonous, rich with blood and woe. Aro, it seemed, played the part of Mad King. He seethed and raged in secret, plotting to destroy Bella for embarrassing him, for birthing an impossible child. I think of Ren, soft and small and strange. She should not exist. None of them should. It ends with the deaths of Alec and Jane, of Aro and Caius.

"Marcus keeps his throne for now," he says, "at least until he gives the new queens of Volterra a reason to end him."

It is a terrifying thought. Four powerful, immortal creatures torn down and ripped apart; a secret society and ancient government both forced in to reformation. And at the heart of it: Bella. Beautiful Bella. I wonder if she knows how many lives she has destroyed, how close she came to destroying mine. Wet, cold, and blue all-over. I nearly died to please the Mad King, and Beautiful Bella had never even told me why. The betrayal of that stings me. It pierces my chest, and fills my lungs with a fractured fury, the heat of it burning in waves, rubato, like the beating of my injured heart.

In time I will forgive her. That sting is greater still.

___

My predator's gaze is heavy, heated. It scorches my skin and warms the flesh beneath until the origin of my aching is muddied with desire. I run. I keep running. Four more laps, then five. Soon, I am laid out at his feet, panting and breathless, my pulse a throbbing distraction. He follows me here every morning. He risks being caught by the first slip of day just to watch me run. I am fast, he tells me, as though I don't already know. As though this track is not the only place my winter bones feel truly warm.

"I could make you faster."

His offer holds little temptation. For now, I am content. They can keep their ritual, their alchemy, their eerie perfection; I will choose to ache, and to age because the pain of living has never felt so good. His offer will come again. It has come before. For weeks now, Jasper has offered strength when my limbs grew weary, tirelessness when I slept through my studies. Most tempting though, are his offers of eternity. Forever, when he kisses me. Forever, when our fingers lace. Forever, as he presses his body into mine. For too long my strength was a lie, my bravery an illusion. My humanity was all I knew to be true, knew to be mine. And forever means surrendering that to him. I am not ready for forever.

He is gone before the sun's made real. Burning lips and nervous hands waiting for the dark. But my days are full. I have classes, and friends, and the rapturous feeling of a life becoming whole, becoming real. The nights are better still. Tangled limbs and fevered kisses, cupping and clenching, our skin turned blue by the light of the television. My palms over his ribs are like an epiphany. As though my hands had no purpose before they wrapped around him, as though my fingers were meaningless before they knotted in his hair. We spend weeks like this. Breath in concert. Flesh to stone. Every part of us becoming something stronger, something better, while we pretend I'm not a ticking clock. Forever is never more tantalising than when the room turns silent, and the clock is all I can hear.

We are carving our time in to seconds, making notes on how best not to waste it. But we are wrong - the chronology of us. Somehow, even entwined, we use a line to divide ourselves, keep my insides from his outsides, and it leaves us out of sync. I wonder if we can transcend this. I wonder if I will ever let him convince me of the fallacy of my death. For his kind the end is a beginning, a painful pause to mark the birth of something new. For me, it is just the end. When the night drains from the sky they flee for the shadows, but I cannot imagine a life without the sun on my skin, without the exhilarating hammer of my heart within my chest. The metronome stutters.

Forever.

___

There's a feeling growing inside me, something unformed and unknown, that threatens to make me useless when he looks at me. It beats inside my chest. It warms me slowly. It's a taste, not a word, somehow, but contorts around my tongue and squeezes between my teeth with all the weight of wanting. But what more could I possibly want?

Apparently we'll hike today. Plot a course, do a climb, make a mountain ours. For a creature whose survival depends so heavily on the masquerade of humanity, Jasper seems dangerously at ease with our planned excursion. I am far less certain. Where once I may have thought this brave or defiant, I now wonder if he's simply stubborn or foolish. But it doesn't matter. I am helpless to deny him. Wanting, wanting.

Our trail is covered in stone and sand. And though the sun burns above us, bright and dazzling, he is unafraid here. No thought of discovery, of danger can keep the smile from Jasper's face. Pleased and pleasing. His skin glows dully, as though a fire burns just beneath. It sparks and spreads and rolls in waves. When his hand grips mine it is warm and strange, never more like real flesh. These hands, this flesh, this love will ruin me. Love. It is far too soon for the feeling. I feel it just the same. I swallow the word down deep before it can crawl right out of my mouth.

We hike for hours, steady and slow. When we reach the rock-face, he takes my hand again, gives it a gentle squeeze. He climbs with ease. Nimble hands dig pits and pockets, sure holds for my nervous feet and fingers to follow in. The climb is hard. The rock is sheer. Straining muscle and grasping hands drive me to the top. There, I collapse exhausted, exhilarated. A sweating, ruddy tangle. I have never felt more powerful, more incredible, more human. He lays down beside me. Stony fingers drag through the dirt, through the sand, then paint a dusty trail upon my face. There's an ache in my chest. I wonder if he feels it.

"Tell me what can I give you." There's a dull pain in his voice, some sort of ancient misery that makes his meaning incomprehensible to me. "I know you're tired of forever—of eternity—but I have nothing else to offer." His lips are a tight line. An effort to make the words stop. "So please, Lena, tell me what I can give you."

I throw myself against him, press my lips to his, and hope that time just ends. He turns. He covers my body with his own. His mouth draws a line up my neck, whispers into my ear. There is no story I could write for myself better than this one. I am fully and truly satisfied. What can he give me, then? This desert. These rocks. Each part of him that presses flush against me. He can give me these. I need nothing more.

"Give me this," I say, my palm against his chest. "Give me you. For just as long as you want to."

He traps my hand with his, creates a cage around his heart. "Forever, then?"

Behind him, all I see is the sky, the sun in his hair like a fiery crown. Forever. Finally, it doesn't sound like a curse. "Forever, then."

We stand, not quite sure of what comes next, of where forever starts. But we have this. This desert. These rocks. His hands across my skin like a river, like a promise. Our descent is clean and quick, the mountain somehow softer from my longing, but we ramble the return path slowly. The minutes smear together. Everything casts a shadow. I wonder aloud if there was even any escape from them, the alluring monsters who captured my heart.

" 'The more I saw of them,' " he quoted, " 'the greater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness.' "

I laugh, the sound a distant echo off each surrounding stone. " 'My heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures.' "

Jasper turns to me, his brow quirked in practised interest. "But doesn't that make you The Monster?" He laughs softly, quietly, and then simply walks away.

Perhaps he's right. Perhaps I am The Monster. I suppose I'll have forever to find out.

___

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[anxious-vigil]

Misunderstandings (Pt 5/5)

Summary: Virgil needs someone to help him through panic attacks, and Logan seems to be the perfect solution. However when he approaches the other side, assumptions are made and soon he’s left alone and confused, trying to track down Logic just to ask him where things went wrong. Romantic identity angst fic with like a paragraph of crack at the very end. I’ve since realised it’s also heavily inspired by Platonic by @randomslasher so you should go read that as well if you haven’t already. On Ao3 here

Trigger warnings: Graphic descriptions of panic attacks, mentions of self harm, discussions of sexual/romantic identity, some aro-phobic language, lots of arguing and self-deprecation

Pairings: Analogical, background Royality

Chapter 5

Anxiety sits on top of his desk, face pressed against the glass of his window. He doesn't know how long he's been there but he's seen the sun rise and his legs are stiff. A bird with a forked tail flits across his vision. It's deathly quiet, so he can clearly hear slow steps approaching his room accompanied by the clinking of plates. Nowadays Patton tends to bring him breakfast if he misses it so when the knock comes, he waves a hand to click the lock open. “Just... leave it on the bed or something, Pat.” he whispers hoarsely. Crying and yelling have both taken their toll on his voice and he doesn't want to talk anymore than he has to. A soft thud signals the tray being set down and the door shuts gently. He sighs, hating that Pat has to step out of his way like this, he knows how much he makes the older trait worry.

Logan shuts the door and turns to study Virgil carefully. The skin beneath his eyes is badly bruised, his wounds are clearly untreated and he's wearing his old hoodie like a physical weight. He doesn't look like he's moved from his solitary position anytime recently. It nowhere resembles a good situation. Logan clears his throat and Virgil jumps, turning to look at him with wide, frightened eyes and a complexion that shouldn't be naturally grey. He lowers himself slowly to sit cross-legged on the floor as if taming a spooked animal. The logical facet sighs, knowing the only place to start repairing this relationship was at the beginning, difficult as it may be for him.

“Five years ago,” he starts carefully, tracking Virgil's expressions, “Patton and Roman decided they wanted to try being in a romantic relationship.” He sees understanding bloom in Virgil's eyes but he's going to tell this story in all it's sordid details. There will be no more misunderstandings through his fault if he can help it. “At the time, they were also both attracted to me and so decided a triad would be best for everyone involved. I was confused by the whole notion of romantic attraction and told them so. I attempted to inform them of an identity I'd found through research, aromanticism and explained I thought it fitted me and so would prefer not to join them on their venture into the unknown. They didn't really understand, and felt rejected.

As I was not yet sure in myself and did not want to damage their feelings, they managed to persuade me that I needed to try out a romantic relationship rather than dismiss it out of hand. It seemed... logical to explore before settling on a label, and yet, it didn't feel right, but I decided to go along with the others, thinking my emotions were irrational. Those 89 days...,” he pauses, searching for words, “...weren't... good? Patton and Roman were perfect gentlemen but I couldn't seem to be happy. I didn't understand either the grand gestures or the quiet signals and so couldn't reciprocate. Whenever I tried to, to make them happy, it tended to fall flat in a way I couldn't comprehend. According to Roman, it was missing a 'special spark'.” he laughs. “Whatever that is. When they tried to include me on dates, I felt uncomfortable and out of place. I... I hated it.” Anxiety watches him with quiet dismay in his eyes, he's never seen the logical side so emotional. “It came to a head when Patton and Roman decided it was time to add a sexual nature to the relationship. I'd been letting their expertise lead until that point but the idea of sex repulsed me and by then I'd realised it wasn't sustainable to force myself to be someone I wasn't, in pursuit of something I didn't even want, all to try not to upset them.”

He's stopped watching Virgil's reactions now, too caught up in memories. “I left the relationship. They found it difficult to comprehend my reasoning and for a time assumed I didn't enjoy their company at all. I confronted them 27 days after leaving and managed to partially restore our platonic bond. Although they still struggle, they do their best to be supportive. Well... they did.” He blinks back tears. “Please understand I'm not trying to pass off blame, I am entirely without excuse, but I would like to explain. When they saw you trying to cultivate a friendship with me, they assumed a romantic attraction. They presumed you would 'fix' me and our team of four would become two couples. You came to ask me star-gazing the day after Patton gave me the 'shovel talk'.” He looks up to see Virgil sitting cross-legged a few feet away. “Is that the correct usage?” Logan receives a slow nod and takes it as permission to push forward with his side of the story.

“With Patton and Roman telling me you were interested and my lack of understanding on the subject, I assumed they were correct.” He huffs a breath of frustration, removing his glasses to scrub at his eyes. “Stupid, I know, given they'd gotten me completely wrong, to trust their judgement but hindsight really is 20:20, I guess.” A pale hand settles on his. “When you came to me, I'd been stressing over how to break the news to you. I thought I'd done well but you kept coming back and I was terrified of another situation where if I gave an inch, I'd end up trapped because they... you didn't- wouldn't... because you wouldn't understand my needs as much as I didn't understand yours. So I ran and I hid and I was a coward.” Self-loathing shines through his voice and the hand tightens it's grip on his.

“I should have done better by you Virgil, especially given I know what it feels like to have someone get it so completely wrong. I... I want to do better by you, find out what you need as a person, to be the one you come to for comfort, to understand you. The others place so much stock in romantic bonds, I'd...oh.” his eyes blow wide in realisation. “I'd forgotten what platonic attraction felt like.” He says slowly. He feels understanding hit him like a physical blow as he reanalyses his own thoughts and actions over the past years, seeing himself drift away from Patton and Roman, uncomfortable with their excessive affection. “I've been... lonely.” He blinks and watches a tear land on their clasped hands. “I want to be your friend.” Logan whispers. “I don't know if you can ever trust me again. I know it's not the logical choice given how I acted, and I know I landed a lot of information on you just now, pity or some sort of sense of duty isn't exactly the best place to start any relationship, and we're both suffering from some trauma, rationally you should-” Hands cup his face and he looks up into Virgil's half-smile.

“Anxiety isn't rational and if you're willing to put in the work, I am too.” The other half of his smile pulls up. “Can I have my hug now?” Logan pulls him forward desperately, landing Virgil in his lap, wrapping his arms around as much of the other as he can. Neither sides says anything about the sobs that shake them both as they drink in each others presence. They don't talk until they've managed to rearrange into a more comfortable position some time later, Logan leaning against the door, Virgil sideways in his lap, leaning on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. “What now?” Virgil murmurs. “I'd like to clean your wounds, and you should eat something, and then-” “No, uh, I mean, us?” Logan frowned in thought. “Well, I'd want to start of as friends first, as in any good partnership, but eventually, I mean, I'm friends with Patton, but with you, the label...” “It's not quite right.” “Yes, exactly. Already, you're not just a friend to me. I'd like a word that fully encompasses how important you are to me.” He blushes and leans in to kiss the top of Virgil's head to hide his face but sees the clotted blood and rests his hand there instead, frowning slightly. “Queer-platonic.” Virgil blurts quickly, like it's a plaster he needs to rip off. “Could you repeat that, please?” “Uh, queer-platonic. I, um, found it when I was googling aromanticism on tumblr-” “Googling... on tumblr?” “Shut up.” “Ok, but I'm judging you.” Virgil snickers. “Whatever. It's different things to different people, some kiss, some don't, some have sex, some don't, some are open, some aren't, but basically it's saying this is my life partner in whatever way we choose, and it's special without being romantic. Uh, could we... , um, could that be...our label?” Virgil's nervousness is at once both endearing and a reminder to treat him carefully. Logan strokes over Virgil's cheekbone. “It sounds perfect. We can choose what we want it to be when we get there.” Virgil smiles tiredly, his expression so much more open than usual. “Lookin' forward to it.”

(Some time later)

“Where's your first aid kit?” “Above the sink in the bathroom, through that door.... Logan, what's this?” “That's your breakfast, is it not obvious?” “Darling, precisely none of these are breakfast foods.” “It should not matter what food you eat at what time so long as it has the right balance of nutrients.” “I'm kind of scared to ask what you had for your breakfast.” “Leftover pasta with kale and I added strawberry yoghurt for dairy.” “Not all at...?” “It doesn't matter how in enters your body, Virgil. It all gets mixed up with hydrochloric acid anyway.” “Eww. No kissing. I've decided, kissing is off the table. I'm not going near a mouth that's had yoghurt and kale in it at the same time.” “Humph. I have found the antiseptic wipes, pass me your arm.” “So, go on, explain my breakfast to me, oh cleverest one.” “Well, you have a yoghurt for dairy and broccoli for vitamins-” “Raw.” “Cooking drains the vitamins, stop squirming.” “It stings.” “You are what I believe Roman would call an 'edge-lord', I'm sure you can handle it. There is a ham and egg sandwich for protein and carbohydrates.” “Ok, but I'm sure the leftover pizza doesn't fit into a well-balanced meal.” “It's your favourite.” “Aw, you risked Patton's wrath to seize the forbidden pizza for me. You do love me.” “Yes, that is an accurate statement.” “Stop it, you'll make me blush and I don't have my foundation on. Wait.... is that.... an entire cucumber?” “Ah, yes, that's your drink.” “....” “I, uh, can't figure out Roman's fancy coffee machine and we've run out of juice.” “Water, Logan, water. Or even tea, I guess.” “I was stressed and I panicked.” “And grabbed a cucumber?” “It's 96% water?” “I thought you were logical!” “I am the literal personification of Logic! However I will admit I am not always entirely rational. Come into the light, I want to do your face next.” “Hang on, I'm thirsty.” Virgil snagged the cucumber with his now clean left arm and wandered after his favourite person, making a show of snapping off the end and gnawing at the flesh.

AN: The fandom: Logan eats books

Me: oh, you haven’t heard?

[lizzieraindrops]

sally grissom

part of advanced PLACEMENT: an ars PARADOXICA high school au about a gang of queer teen nerds, by @estherroberts​ , @podcastmecaptain , and @lizzieraindrops

all three of the aformentioned dorks are responsible for the hijinks found in this post. @lizzieraindrops especially for this one

click here for the au masterpost | track #ars placement for updates! ALSO: things aren’t always showing up in the tags, so your most reliable bet is the aforementioned masterpost.

this is one of many individualized advanced PLACEMENT works, for stories of each character involved. we each wrote the story that we each post, with input from the others.

IMPORTANT NOTE: sally is deliberately written as aroace (aromantic and asexual) for the purposes of this au, but this particular individual representation of this orientation may not look quite like what you’re expecting. please see the separate post i made discussing why that is for further information.

sally grissom grew up on a farm in iowa in a town even smaller than point-of-exile, trying to construct rube goldberg machines out of cornstalks and accidentally starting more than one crop circle conspiracy theory

she got moved up a grade way back in second because she’s really bright, so not only is she Younger than everyone, she is even Smoller

literally always the scrawniest tiniest in class

she didn’t really get along with most of the kids, they thought she was weird and tended to ignore her

which was not fun but still preferable to active bullying, although she wonders sometimes if the only reason it didn’t escalate was because she was good at keeping to herself and out of the way

she actually enjoys her own company over that of most people, but she definitely gets lonely, too

but there was one girl who actually asked sally why she was eating raisins on tortilla chips instead of laughing at her

and actually tried the raisin-laden chip sally offered her and pronounced it “not bad,” even though she never tried it again

she became sally’s absolute best friend

and sally felt like she had everything she really needed

tiny sally never really thought much about boys, or girls, or dating, or anything

she’s always been more preoccupied by just existing. it’s a complicated but exciting business, existence, even and perhaps especially when you’re small, and just look at all the other things that be out here existing in the world, it’s incredible

science and especially the field of physics appealed to her from a very young age, because at heart and in the right hands, it’s the pursuit of understanding, tiny piece by tiny piece, how the existing world works at a very deep level, and she finds that incredibly satisfying

she’s always been pretty happy and fulfilled by just bopping along doing her own thing as she moves through the world

but she got increasingly uneasy as she got older and everyone around her started obsessing about things she found relatively uninteresting compared to the miracles of the workings of the universe, and looked at her like there was something wrong with her when she said so

eventually she learned to deflect attention when people asked who she had a crush on or who she thought was cute

because she didn’t have an answer, and she knew that not having an answer was the Wrong answer, because it’s a witch hunt question. if you don't answer it Properly, you're hiding something, and your accuser definitely knows what it is better than you do

she just wanted to tinker with her projects and learn about the world and spend her time with her best friend who was so near and dear to her, why was everyone talking about kissing and sex and ??? expecting her to Do something about it, whether she wanted to or not

“why on earth would i want to kiss a boy when i could be hanging out with you and wiring more LEDs onto my halloween costume. I’m gonna look badass this year”

this friend, she was sally’s everything, and that was never a problem

until everything and everyone changed around her

(even her)

(long before she lost her, sally knew she was losing her to whatever inexorable forces were changing everything and she could neither understand it nor stop it)

and then, sally had to move to colorado the summer before 8th grade, relocating for one of her parents’ jobs

and everything was gone

no; sally was gone. and she wasn’t going to be able to go back.

she was dropped into the point-of-exile school system just too late to get to know the current batch of junior high kids, and too early to make a fresh start of it going into high school along with everyone else

and then, of course, she had to have an identity crisis right then, on top of the stress of relocation

sally had to really rethink things after The Move, because although she tried so hard to maintain contact, she lost touch with her best friend, and it shattered her heart. and she knew she wasn’t Supposed to have this much of a broken heart over something like that, but that didn’t make the shards any smoother. actually, it only made it hurt worse, because she didn’t feel like she could tell anyone 

she had to wonder, was she actually gay? had she been in love with her the whole time without knowing? sally might not Get people a lot of the time, but she knew that girls were only supposed to feel like this about boys they wanted to kiss, not their best friends. was this what people meant about crushes and all?? but she didn’t want any of that gross romantic stuff, either. was she just lonely? or did classic hyperfocus sally just plain care too much? she didn’t know. she didn’t know.

this prompted a whole lot of questioning and self-exploration

she spent much of her time online, at first, when she got to colorado

like, more than usual

sally has always been a meme trash internet junkie

she stayed in her little bedroom with the blinds half-shuttered until she started finding words that made sense

she learned that asexuality was a Thing and identified strongly with it right off the bat and has never looked back

aromanticism also made a Lot of sense to her and she knows she’s somewhere (enthusiastic handwavey gestures) there on that spectrum, too

she also learned a lot about other LGBT stuff during this intensive research period because parts of that Also made sense

the jury’s still out on whether she was gay for her friend or not, and probably always will be, but that’s okay

because she started realizing that it was okay for the the most important relationships in her life to Not look like what people expected them to, and that she could do anything she wanted to and didn’t have to do anything she didn't

and at some point during the summer before she starts high school, esther roberts walked up to her with a slightly manic grin, looking like she was gonna befriend her or die trying

sallys instinct when esther marches up to her is to ignore and avoid, but esther is a sharp girl whose opening move is to compliment the star trek t-shirt that you can barely see under sally's oversized flannel

(sally loves overlarge floppy clothes)

because of that sally decides to give her a chance

even though she’d really just like to be left alone to try and sort herself out

anyway, sally ends up getting dragged to lunch with her and jack and anthony

and anthony’s like “for heaven’s sake esther will you stop strongarming random strangers into coming to lunch with you, i bet she doesn’t even know trigonometry”

and sally's like “fuck you i’m going straight into calculus in the fall”

and anthony perks up his ears and is like !!!!!!! friend!!!!!!!!!! MATH FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!

and esther’s like “she looked like a nerd, i thought she might like to hang out with you losers”

and jack’s like “hey!!” but anthony doesn’t even notice bc he’s already started talking to sally about math

and slowly, sally realizes how not-straight all her new friends are and she just. feels so comfortable, without so many expectations

sally and esther have a special Bond abt queer stuff. it’s harder for sally to talk about things like that with anthony even though he becomes her best friend in the whole world

(perhaps because he’s her best friend in the whole world, and she has trouble reconciling her current reality with the old sally grissom who had never lost one)

for a long, long time, esther is the Only person who knows about the girl from iowa

because esther’s a girl who likes girls and it’s a lot less scary to tell her that sally might-have-liked-a-girl-once but isn’t sure and may never be

and she cries because she wants definitive answers, she wants something that makes sense, but this time she may never get it. this, she, is an experiment that will probably never have enough data to draw any kind of conclusion.

but esther tells her it’s okay either way. it’s okay if she did and it’s okay if she didn’t.

and sally gradually realizes it’s okay to be uncertain. it’s okay to exist blurred across the lines of what people expect and outside the boxes of what makes sense. hell, maybe it’s okay for what’s outside the boxes to make more sense than what’s in them. isn’t heisenberg’s uncertainty principle necessary to understanding quantum mechanics?

and slowly,

slowly

that old wound finally starts healing, though it leaves a scar

and the question becomes less and less pressing, with time

later, in high school, sally and esther meet down by the garden shed at school whenever they need to Talk about things

nothing calms sally down like the feeling of sitting down cross-legged on a solid-but-squishy spare bag of Miracle Gro

once, someone started teasing about them going to the shed to mess around and sally kicked a watering can in frustration and accidentally sent it through a window and got detention for destroying school property

but esther ended up in detention with her because she chased down whoever was making fun of them

and kicked their ass

sally runs back into the shed because of the double embarrassment of the accusation and the watering can mishap

(esther later teases sally kindly with jokes about going back into the closet/shed)

one time the science beans are chilling in the lab one afternoon and jack and esther are playing dilemma at the bench next to anthony, who is finishing up his lab writeup

quentin is dozing on the couch with an open manila folder over his face

sally is somehow sitting cross-legged on a lab stool, eating her way through a tin of anchovies that she’s individually wrapping in steamed spinach and then devouring with gusto

and jack is sure he’s about to beat esther at cards but she suddenly pulls the rug out from under him with an unexpected play and beats him

“goddamit esther, how do you always do this, do you keep a fricken ace up your sleeve just to fuck with me”

and esther just makes three seconds’ worth of eye contact with sally in dead silence, not moving because if she moves she’ll start laughing

and sally, who has been agonizing over coming out to the rest of the gang as ace for awhile now but hasn’t been able to figure out how to do it, 

suddenly blurts “i don’t wanna be in anyone’s pants OR sleeves”

esther fucking loses it

quentin peers out from under his folder, bemused as to why the two girls are laughing their asses off

once she stops cackling, sally really awkwardly gives ace and aro 101 explanations with help from esther

quentin’s the only one who’s already familiar with asexuality and aromanticism already and he perks up because hey! i know this!

but they all take it really well

jack’s like “wow yeah, that really sounds like you”

anthony notices that sally’s fidgeting and stimming way more than usual and says “oh, sally, you were really nervous about this, weren’t you”

she just kinda nods, not looking at anyone and rocking a little on her stool

“come here, you”

he goes and wraps her in a great big soft bear hug and she nuzzles against him

“it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re good, we love you, i love you”

sally’s definitely sniffling a little

at one point during her junior year, sally finds herself dozing off in a pile on the couch between anthony and esther toward the end of a movie night. she briefly wakes up all the way and freaks out a little because this is, so intimate

and she’s used to people expecting that to mean something More that she doesn’t and something Less than she does

but then

she realizes

that it’s okay if she loves her friends more than anything else in the world, and it's okay if it's a little weird, and it's okay if other people don't get how that works and how powerful it is, because her people get it

she's not too much; she's not too little

she sighs snuggles down into the pile and passes the fuck out, because that realization drew a lot of poison out of her

and she sleeps

and for the first time in a long time, she feels safe not only with her friends, but with her self.

[bosstoaster]

Thank you so much for sharing your writing with us. I am a huge fan of your characterization, pacing, plot, and even your evil, evil cliff hangers. Your writing style flows very organically and I find myself reading and re-reading your work. 800 follower prompt: Shiro/Matt and either pointless angst (2, 15, etc) or shenanigans (14, 31, etc). Or writer's choice. Basically just Shiro/Matt. :-)

(Thank you so much dude you are waaaay too kind.  

(Wondering what this is?  This is the 800 Followers Special!  Find out more here.  These requests are now closed.  Don’t wanna see these because there’s a lot of them coming over the next couple of weeks?  Blacklist ‘800 Followers Special’.  Hate reading on Tumblr?  These will be going on AO3 as ‘This Paradox Place’ a couple of days after posting.)

No no, we aren’t breaking up! You didn’t let me finish. I’m gay for YOU. (And I’m queer for math!)

“We need to talk,” Matt told Shiro plainly.  “Honestly, this was long overdue.”

Pausing at the unusually flat tone, Shiro glanced back over his shoulder.  His shirt was still tangled around his arms as he yanked it off, and he let both hang in front of him.  “What kind of talk?”

Matt tilted his head up, jaw set.  It was an expression he usually used when he was steeling himself for something.  “One we should have had weeks ago.”

Well, that was straightforward.

Something about Matt’s expression made Shiro tense.  Maybe it was just that he was so unused to having it directed at him.  At least, not in months.  Years, now.

It was like Matt was trying to figure out how to break some bad news to him.

At first, Shiro’s mind whirled back, jumping through their day, and then the past few weeks. Was anyone hurt?  Had something gone wrong?  Why was Matt telling him this now, in this tone of voice?

The only reason Shiro could think of that Matt would say something now was if it wasn’t exactly business.  If it was just between the two of them.

Which meant there was something wrong with them.  With their relationship.  Something that had been stewing for weeks, now.  Which would be most of the time they’d been together.

Sitting down on his bed, Shiro still didn’t pull his arms out.  Instead he met Matt’s eyes and waited.

Under Shiro’s direct gaze, Matt started to shift, moving his weight from foot to foot.  “Right.  Um.”  He paused, visibly looking for a joke, anything to defuse the heavy atmosphere.  After a few moments of struggle, he gave it.  “It’s not- it’s not a bad thing.  Not really.   Usually with us it’s awesome, but some stuff is just… it’s hard to deal with.”

Shiro’s heart sank, dropping as heavily as if it was made of metal too.

“Is it something we can work in?” He asked carefully, keeping his expression neutral.  No need to make this harder on them both.

Matt was free to end this anytime he wanted.  Obviously.  There was going to be no guilting, no carrying on, no making this a problem for either of them.

But it hurt, too.  Shiro had so little that was stable.  And Matt… well, stable probably wasn’t the best word for Matt.  He ran off with his ideas, running high on theories and anything that sounded fun.  And he fought back fiercely, passionately, refusing to let anyone treat him as anything less than an equal.  Not after what he’d been through.

Shiro admired it all desperately.  And more, he’d loved having that all aimed at him, that interest and curiosity and passion, the refusal to be shut out.  Matt had dug his way in completely.

Their relationship, however, was stable.  It was good.  They matched, they evened out, they fought but made up easily.

Or, so he’d thought.

Something must have shown through his expression, despite his best efforts, because Matt drooped.  “I don’t-” he winced.  “I don’t think so.  It’s not your fault, but I don’t think this is something you can fix, or else you would have already.  I’m sorry, Shiro.”  He sat down next to him, brow furrowed.  “It’s not going to change anything, you don’t have to worry.  I’m just too tired to keep going like this.”

Really, Shiro shouldn’t have been freaking out.  They were friends, still, and they could be friends after.  There was nothing wrong with that, nothing less about friendship.  He knew that.  Or he thought he had.

Absurdly, horribly, Shiro’s eyes ached and heated, and he looked down at his lap to avoid meeting Matt’s eyes.  Then he saw his arms, still stupidly tangled, and he ducked down to pull his shirt back on.  It wasn’t like he could hide his scars from Matt again, but it made him feel less vulnerable.  As if the shirt could have helped at all.

Nothing he could fix, and not his fault.

The PTSD had been too much then.

That was fair.  Shiro hated dealing with it, and he didn’t have a choice.  What right did he have to ask someone else to manage it, too?

“I’m sorry,” he managed, mostly keeping his tone flat.  It didn’t sound right, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t do better right now.  He needed space to right himself and lick his wounds, then he could sound normal.

A hand settled on his shoulder, warm and heavy.  “You okay in there?  You, uh, you’ve kinda gone quiet.  I haven’t even said anything, yet.”

“You don’t have to,” Shiro replied, closing his eyes completely.  “I get it.  I’m not going to give you a hard time.  If you want, I can explain to Pidge and Sam.”

There was a moment of silence.  “Explain what?  What the hell do they care about this?”  

Shiro flinched.

The hand tightened, and then Matt shook him.  It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was startling, and Shiro uncurled himself as he jumped.  “What the hell are you on about?” Matt asked.

Confusion warred with hurt.  Matt sounded honest, but the cruelty in making him say it and not just letting him take the hit felt like an insult.  Shiro tucked in on himself and looked away.  “Well, your family would probably want to know that we’re breaking up, so-”

“We’re what?  When did this- just because I wanted to change some things up?  The hell, Takashi?”

Shiro froze, then glanced back over.  “What?  No.  No!  I’m not-”  He paused, then swallowed hard.  “You’re not breaking up with me?”

Mouth falling open, Matt stared at him.  Then he leaned back, eyes distant as he mentally reviewed the conversation.   “You thought- well, fuck a duck, that explains a lot.  God, I was wondering why you got so nervous over a talk.  No, I’m not breaking up with you.  Why the hell would I?  I’m physically tired.  As in, we never sleep well in the same bed.  I was going to say we should start sleeping in our rooms together, so we stop waking each other up all the time.  God knows you don’t get enough rest as is.”

That was-

Oh.  Oh.

Matt was right.  They were horrible bedmates.  Shiro woke up every time Matt shifted, and Shiro’s metal arm and tendency to twitch and move in his sleep had smacked his boyfriend awake more than once.  And left a couple of bruises that Shiro still felt awful over.

“You had to put it like that?” Shiro burst out.  “You were acting like this was some huge, awful deal!”

Matt threw out his arms. “I didn’t want you to feel bad!  You have nightmares so you toss and turn and defend yourself.  Hell, you practically fell over yourself apologizing for the time you thumped my chest.”

Scowling back, Shiro crossed his arms.  “You were hurt.”

“Oh, I had a little bruise.  I’ve left worse on you from hickies.  I’m not going to burst into dramatic tears because you left a mark on me.  It wouldn’t have hurt at all if that arm of yours didn’t weigh as much as a small child.”  Matt rolled his eyes.  “I’m very sorry for trying to take a change to our relationship seriously.  Won’t ever happen again.  I’m gunna sleep in my room after I bone you.  We good?”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded, short and jerky.  There were still so many emotions running through him - relief, frustration, anger, hurt, fondness - that had nowhere to go.  But that was fine.  Honestly, it was the smart option.  Under normal circumstances, Shiro would have been good.

There was another huff, and then Matt reached around, grabbing Shiro and tugging him into an embrace.  He dropped a kiss on top of Shiro’s head. “You absolutely moron.  I’m not dumping you. You kidding me?  Setting aside the whole ‘brilliant, amazing pilot, dorky leader and savior of the universe’ thing, you are a fine piece of ass.”

That finally seemed to break something in Shiro, and he let out of a bark of laughter.  “Well, glad we have our priorities straight.”

“Nothing straight about me when it comes to you, Beefcake,” Matt replied cheerfully.  “I’m gay as hell for you.”

Pulling back, Shiro offered Matt a smile, the tension slowly melting out of him.  “You’re gay for everything.  You’re gay.”

“Nope.  Not true.  I’m gay for your and queer platonic for math.  And paleobiology.”  Matt pressed their foreheads together.  “And you’re very pretty, but very dense.  It’s okay, I’ll be the brains of the operation.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Shiro replied, shoving Matt back so he laid out on the bed.  

Matt only laughed.  “Nope, I’m a dick.  S’okay, you like dicks.”  He shot Shiro a pair of finger guns, grinning.

So Shiro felt no qualms about pushing him off the bed and listening to his grumpy complaints.

But he also invited him back in as soon as he was up.

Shiro didn’t need for Matt to apologize.  Because he had his own ways of getting even.  So he pinned him down by his shoulders and smiled down at him, warm and sappy.

“Oh no,” Matt replied.  “Are you about to- Shiro, c’mon!”

“I love you,” Shiro replied heartlessly.  “You’re amazing and you’re passionate, and you’re one of the strongest, greatest people I know.”

“I’m calling the police, this is abuse.”  Matt’s face went blotchy red, and he squirmed under the direct gaze.  

Shiro only raised his brows, because what police?  “You’ve survived so much and came out the other side so strong.  You exceeded every expectation and you turned all those hurts into wonder at the universe, and I love you so much.  Maybe I won’t wake up to you anymore, but I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Covering his face, Matt whined.  “I give up. You win.  Stop!”

Shiro took pity, leaning down to kiss over Matt’s neck, then flopping out comfortably over him.  It took a couple of minutes for Matt to recover from the onslaught of sincerity, and when he looked down at Shiro his ears were still red.  “You know that all applies to you too, right?”

“Maybe,” Shiro replied, resting his chin on Matt’s chest. He had to curl up to stay on the bed like this, but it was worth it.  “But I still love you.”

Matt smiled and reached down, running his fingers through Shiro’s hair.  “Same to you, Starshine.”

And that was enough.

They were enough.

It was all Shiro wanted.