#i was supposed to be studying but whoops gay people on my mind

[foxett]

Euh gay peopl

[hellflame-for-a-reason]

Private tutoring

Lesson one: The safety check

"I'm sorry if I've done anything wrong ma'am, I hope everything's alright." Tenya Iida carefully approached the desk.

The r-rated pro hero Midnight was sitting in the chair behind the desk, looking at him. "You're not in trouble sweetie, just sit down, rest those pretty little legs of yours."

Tenya was used to people commenting on his legs so he didn't pay any mind to it, taking a seat behind one of the student desks. "What did you want to speak with me about then Ms Kayama?"

"Ugh," she shuddered, "don't be so formal Tenya! You've known me since you were little, what happened to calling me 'miss nemu'?"

"You're a teacher, I'm merely showing my respect."

"Ok well this conversation isn't part of my job so you don't have to respect me; it's either Midnight or Miss Nemu out of school hours, alright Tenya?"

"Yes ma'am," Tenya sighed, bowing his head in respect, "so what is the topic of this conver then? If not school?"

Midnight smirked at that, leaning back and putting her feet up on the desk. Tenya suddenly felt an urge to lecture her but bit it back, knowing that she might not want to be treated like a teacher, he should still show her some respect. "That boy in your class; the green haired one, you like him don't you?"

Oh no, Tenya could feel his face heating up, and clearly it had turned a certain colour too if Midnight's reaction had anything to do with it. She laughed and whooped, "I knew it! Ha! You act the exact same way Tensei does when he's got a crush."

"I…" he stood, the light glinting off his glasses and hiding his eyes, "I have to object! This line of questioning is extremely inappropriate, I must ask you to stop."

"Calm down Tenya, sit down." She sighed, waving a hand dismissively, "I'm not going to say anything about your personal choices, and I won't say anything judgemental about your taste in men out loud. I just want to give you some advice in approaching him, alright?"

A sigh, "alright Midnight, what should I do?' Tenya didn't think he could argue with her much more than he already had, so he just sat down and shut up. Maybe her advice would be helpful, although considering her status, he doubted it.

"Well the first thing you need to figure out is how much do you like him? Are you thinking long term or just a fling?"

Tenya hadn't actually considered that, he knew that he had a rather large crush but he had never really allowed himself to fantasize too much. "I'm not sure ma'am, I never really thought about it."

Midnight sighed at that for a second time, "well I can work with that I suppose, it might be a little more difficult but not to worry, you're speaking to an expert." She picked up some chalk and began to write on the board, "phase one," she spoke as she wrote it down, "finding out if he likes guys and making him think about you more often."

Oh, so they were treating this like an extra subject? Ok then, Tenya could handle this. He took out a notebook, always good for studying, and found an empty page, copying down what Midnight had written. She continued to speak and he took notes in bullet points, "taking notes? Okay great. Now I don't know much about how to tell if someone's gay but personally I think your best course of action is to start the conversation in a group, I don't mean you have to come out. Like… maybe ask a group of people in the common area if they think anyone in the class is gay?"

"But Midnight?" Tenya had spotted an issue with that plan almost instantly, "what if he's in the closet? He might not want to say anything."

"Hm, you have a point there, I suppose you could go the celebrity crush route; get him alone or around people he trusts in a casual conversation and bring up the idea of celebrity crushes, asking him about his. It's probably best to say something yourself at that point, to at least make him aware of your persuasion."

Tenya nodded, that sounded like a really good idea. Obviously he was a little nervous about trying it out but Midnight was an expert so he definitely wasn't going to challenge her authority. He quickly made his notes, wondering if it would seem out of character for him to ask about that kind of thing. "How would I make him think about me then?"

"Show him that you think about him. Send him pictures of animals or flowers or clouds that remind you of him, if you see something in a shop that makes you think of him, buy it for him. Just anything you can do to ensure that his first instinct when he thinks of you is fondness."

He very quickly noted that down, very grateful for her advice, "that makes sense, thank you ma'am. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"I don't think so, no, you may go back to your dorms now. Good luck Tenya." Midnight smiled at him and opened the door for him to leave, she watched as he gathered his things to leave and hummed in thought, "how is your brother by the way? I haven't spoken to Tensei since before his...ah, *early retirement.*"

Tenya froze at that last part, sighing and adjusting his glasses, "Tensei is well, his recovery went well. Thank you for your concern."

"Does he still have the same number?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Great!" She clapped her hands together, "you have fun, good luck. I'm going to go try out some of my own advice." Midnight chuckled as she pushed him out the door, one hand already reaching for the phone on her desk.

"Thank you ma'am," he sighed, leaning against the door after she'd shut it, he sighed. Great, Midnight was off to hit on his brother whilst Tenya was tasked with doing the same to Midoriya, and heaven knows she's got a lot more experience and skills than him. He's definitely going to need all the luck he can get.

After school finished, Tenya slowly made his way back to the dorms. He sat himself down on the sofa after grabbing a glass of orange juice, allowing himself to relax. Midoriya sat next to him, with Todoroki on the other side of him, "how are you doing Iida? You've been a bit on edge since lunch."

"Ah? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine… don't worry about it, Midoriya, I'm fine." He sighs, offering a gentle smile, "just thinking about my studies, didn't realise I was behaving strangely." In truth, Tenya was simply nervous about this first step, he didn't know if this would work, but he was definitely risking his own safety to do this. He just hoped it would work, and that if it did work, that it worked in his favour. Sadly he just sat there in silence for an hour, going over the pros and cons of bringing this up. One on hand people would automatically assume he was a homosexual, and correctly so, but that could be dangerous, but on the other hand it might not be. Even if Midoriya was of that persuasion, there was no guarantee he'd say anything, or that he'd like Tenya.

The fear was almost enough to prevent him from saying anything, but he didn't want to disappoint Midnight, so he had to. He glanced over the scene before him; Bakugo and Midoriya were bickering over some stupid thing, probably about All Might, Uraraka and Todoroki were playing noughts and crosses whilst Ashido did Tsu's nails on the floor, Kaminari's nails were currently drying and Kaminari was next in line. It was a lovely scene, not often did their friend groups merge like this and Tenya was almost scared to disturb it. He cleared his throat regardless and didn't meet any of their eyes, "I can't help but to wonder," he paused for a moment, realising that what he was about to say would come out of left field for them, so maybe he should have tried to soften the blow, "do you think anyone in our class is of a different persuasion?"

"Eh?"

"He means gay Bakubro," Kirishima spoke up, leaning back against the beanbag, "I mean, I think I am, yeah I'm probably gay." He shrugged, clearly not believing this to be that big of a deal.

"Why the hell didn't you just say gay then? Stupid fuckin' shitty glasses," Bakugo huffs, crossing his arms and glaring up at Tenya, "well I'm not telling you anything, it's none of your business."

Mina huffed at that, "oh don't be such a dick," she proceeded to smile up at Tenya sweetly, "I'm bi!"

"Same!" Came a chorus from Uraraka, Kaminari and, most importantly: Midoriya. Tenya knew was bi meant, it meant bisexual, a persuasion in which one is attracted to more then one gender. This was a good thing, it meant that he did have a chance with Midoriya, but it didn't necessarily mean he was his type, so obviously more research would be needed.

"I'm a lesbian! Ribbit." Tsu spoke up, smiling and licking her lips before continuing to watch Mina paint her nails a lovely shade of green, with a different pattern on her thumbs.

Todoroki peered over, staring at Tenya with the kind of inquisitive look that almost scared him, "and I'm a homosexual, what about you, Iida? What's your persuasion?"

"For fucks sake! Just say sexuality! God damn, do all rich people talk like this?!" Bakugo didn't seem to enjoy this discussion, and Tenya couldn't blame him; although he was the one who had brought it up, he was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. It seemed Midnight had been wrong, this plan would push him into telling his friends his sexuality, but he couldn't feel hurt by that, as that was what he had asked them.

"Mine?" He queried, pushing back having to answer for another second, unsure how to word it, "oh, yes of course… my persuasion…" oh he really didn't want to answer this question, so he continued to stall.

"Yeah, if you asked us that question you gotta answer it too," Kirishima spoke up, still very casual, Mina on the other hand, looked more empathic, smiling softly.

"Iida… do you-"

"I," he interrupted her, not on purpose but he just wasn't registering that she had spoken, "I personally happen to be an, uh… homosexual?" One hand went to the side of his neck whilst the other adjusted his glasses, still not meeting any of their eyes. He wasn't sure how speaking this truth made him feel, he was more then scared of their reactions, despite knowing they were the same.

"Ooohh!" Uraraka piped up, "is that why you started this conversation? Because you wanted to tell us?" She looked so pleased, even proud of him and Tenya felt a little guilty about his less then pure motives for doing such. Although the more he actually thought about it, the more it shook him to his core that he did indeed just officially come out to his classmates.

Oh god.

"I… I suppose so…" he looked at her, head lowered slightly, "I hope you aren't too mad?"

"Why would we be mad, Iida? It's perfectly fine, I think it was quite clever of you to test the waters first." She reached over both Todoroki and Midoriya to pat him gently on the shoulder, he smiled at her in response, glad that everything was fine.

Midoriya beamed at him, "I hope you're proud of yourself, Iida, cause that must have been hard to say."

"It, it was," he nodded, smiling in return. Tenya felt the butterflies that everyone spoke about and he felt fuzzy all over, Midoriya had such an adorable smile and it was almost fatal. This boy would be the death of him.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Not So Korean Drama~Park Sooyoung(Joy) x black!fem!reader

Pairing: Sooyoung/Joy x reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy(not really), College AU, Fluff

Summary: The it girl on campus, acting major and international student, Park Sooyoung  is all you can think about. You aren’t the only one, every person has a huge crush on her too. You want to ask her out, yet in the back of your mind you know everything about it would be unconventional.

  Warnings: Anxiety, Mentions of bi-phobia (nothing major), Mentions of Microaggressions 

Word Count: 4,206

Author’s Note: Here’s some Red Velvet, I also decided to write more black readers because I want to write more for black women like me. Also I know this is very niche so I hope you guys enjoy it regardless if you identify with the main character or not. Hope you guys enjoy!

Sometimes I see this mediocre, yet funny life of mine as a television show. A world where I’m surrounded by so many generic people, well they aren’t really generic, just similar to one another. That’s usually how it goes at La Rouge University , or as most of the students of color call it, La PWI. It’s weird though, I don’t really fit in with the other black students either, nothing against them but I’m just more on the nerdy side. I know that doesn’t make me unique, but there aren’t a lot of nerdy black girls on campus. The only one I found was Brianna, who was close to Wendy and Yeri. I found my band of friends but Wendy can be a bit insensitive at times. That’s one of the reasons why I keep my budding crush on Sooyoung. Where can I begin about Park SooYoung? There’s so much about her that draws me towards her, well regardless of her sense of style, straight black hair and the ability to pull off any lipstick color. 

“Um, earth to Y/N?” Brianna asks. 

I blink up from my book, a page that I clearly checked out from. I totally forgot we were in the library of all places, whoops. Of course Brianna’s holding a smug grin while she taps Yeri. 

“Look, Y/N’s lost in thinking about Sooyoung’s eyes,” she teases.

Yeri giggles as she takes Brianna’s hand tightly. 

“I know right, I don’t know why you don’t just ask her out already,” Yeri says. 

I cringe at how loud she said it as Wendy approaches our table with her usual blue sweatshirt, tan pants and bag slung across her shoulder. She must have gotten from her English class since she’s clutching her literature book for dear life.     

“Who’s asking who out?” she asks as she pulls up a seat. 

“Um, no one,” I say quickly. 

Wendy throws a deadpan look my way. 

“It’s gotta be about you Y/N,” Wendy notes. “You’re the single person at the table and if Bri and Yeri were cheating on each other I’m sure they wouldn’t discuss it in front of each other.”

Both Brianna and Yeri shrug as they link arms and kiss each others cheeks. 

“You haven’t found someone else, have you babe?”Yeri whines. 

Brianna nuzzles against her cheek. 

“You know I haven’t jagi,” Brianna coos. 

Yeri giggles at the pet name she taught Bri, earning a kiss on her lips. They’re cute, teeth rottenly so, but I always wonder how they got together. Of course they’re in the same major and have an obsession with Boba tea but what about their obvious racial differences, with Yeri being Korean and all. I’m curious but then again, it’s not my place to ask. It’s their relationship. 

“So, are you gonna tell me who it is?” Wendy asks while she pokes me with the end of her pen.

“Nobody,” I say.“None of your concern.”

Wendy pouts as her pokes grow faster. 

“Ah come on! You were fine with telling Yeri and Bri about it!” she groans.

“Yeah, but you’ll just kill the vibe,” I explain,��“plus you know them so.”

Wendy gasps. 

“Really? Ah! So it won’t be hard to guess!” she says.“Is it Minseok from the Starbucks?”

Yeri giggles. 

“Uh, it isn’t a he, Wendy.”

Wendy blinks at Yeri’s statement as I send a Brianna a knowing glare. She nods and pats my hand. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were into women, Y/N,” Wendy says. 

“Yeah, but I’m still into men too Wendy,” I say. “But yes, this crush is on a woman.”

“Oh ok,” Wendy says. “I didn’t know that was your thing but ok.”

I hold back my words, but Brianna doesn’t. Thank God.

“And what’s that supposed to mean Wendy?” she asks.

Yeri pinches the bridge of her nose as Wendy glances at each of us in confusion.

“What?” she asks.“Aw, did I overstep again?”

I nod sharply when Brianna scoffs. 

“Took a giant step over the line,” I say. “I’m bi.”

Wendy’s eyes soften. 

“I-I’m sorry Y/N,” she says. “I hadn’t realized and you never talked about it with us.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her with a pat of her hand. 

“So,” Yeri says, breaking the tension.“When are you going to ask her out?”

Fortunately Wendy’s all smiles again, yet she goes to asking me again.

“So, who is she? Oh! is it-”

I don’t even register who Wendy’s talking about as my focus shifts towards the entrance of the library. The double doors slide open, slowly (maybe its my hyperactive mind) and steps in the woman herself. Park Sooyoung. Of course she’d step in now of all times with her stylish tan trench coat, white turtle neck and dark skinny jeans. Just like in the TV shows she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. Ok it is my hyperactive imagination, she’s even walking this way. Shit, no that’s actually happening. Wendy pokes me again. 

“Y/N? Oh!” she gasps, realizing. 

Sooyoung steps up to our table with a tiny smile and a wave. 

“Hi Wendy, Yeri,” she greets.

Her attention shifts over to Brianna and I. Me. Park Sooyoung is looking at me. 

“Oh! This is Y/N,” Yeri says as she squeezes Brianna’s hand. “And this is my girlfriend, Brianna.”

Sooyoung grins, flashing a few of her teeth as she bows slightly, reaching for Brianna’s hand, shaking it then holding it out to me. I. My skin flares as my words begin to disperse. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sooyoung says. “Brianna. Y/N.”

Her attention is back on me, her eyebrow raised as she notices that I haven’t taken her hand yet. I grip it quickly and shake it just as swift.

“N-Nice to, meetyoutoo!” I manage to blurt out. 

Sooyoung turns back to Wendy. 

“I just wanted to ask if Professor Philip put the PowerPoint online,” she says. “I had to miss lecture today because of rehearsals.”

Wendy waves her off. 

“You’re in the clear,” Wendy reassures. “He’s going over it again next class.”

Sooyoung releases a breath of relief, another smile engulfing her striking features yet again. 

“Thank you Wendy,” she says.

It’s as if the entire library started to notice Sooyoung, guys start to pop up that I don’t even know. I know one of them, Jackson Wang, a friend of mine, we aren’t close, yet I didn’t know he knew Sooyoung.  

“Yo Y/N!” he greets. “Bri, Yeri, Wendy!” 

He then turns back to Sooyoung.

“We should get going,” he says. “JB and Bam Bam are waiting.”

“Ah, you’re right!” Sooyoung exclaims. “It was nice meeting you both, see you guys around!” 

And just like that Sooyoung’s gone and around the corner with Jackson flanking her. Are they a thing? Last time I checked Jackson was endlessly flirting with Namjoon, the library’s part time receptionist and full time genius. I’ve confided in Jackson about my sexuality before, but I’ve never talked to him about Sooyoung. Oh God, they must be dating.

“Y/N, Y/N you still there?” Yeri asks.

I turn my attention back to the table. Brianna holds a shit eating grin as always, Yeri tries to stifle a laugh while Wendy narrows her eyes at me.

“Sooyoung,” she says. “You have a crush on Park Sooyoung.”

“Not just a crush,” Brianna notes. “A school girl crush, I know you saw how nervous Y/N got. She could barely speak.”

I hunker down further in my seat as my face flares again.

“Shut up,” I groan. 

Wendy giggles. 

“It’s cute Y/N, but I’m not sure if Sooyoung’s-” she pauses prior to continuing. “You know.”

I get an uneasy tingle from Wendy’s words. She’s right, what if she isn’t into women. What if she doesn’t like black people? Another stab that would hurt more.

“What Wendy?” Yeri asks. “Gay or Bi? it’s ok, you can say it.”

Wendy frowns. 

“Guys, I don’t mean to come off like that,” she groans. “I just don’t want her to get hurt. Sooyoung hasn’t been here in the states for a while, I’m not sure if she’s-accepting.”       

“Well if she’s hanging out with Jackson, who’s big bi energy by the way,” Brianna explains. “She’s got to be somewhat accepting.”

Yeri’s eyes soften at me as she reaches for my hand.

“That doesn’t mean you should give up,” she says. “Just talk to her.”

I slip further down into my seat, it’s easier said than done. Sooyoung’s an international student which means she only hangs out with other international students. I only know two of them: Wendy, born in South Korea but studied in Canada prior to moving here and Jackson who moved here from China on a football scholarship.  They’re friends of course, but even they blow me out of the water with their style and the looks they get from students. Sooyoung especially. 

“I guess, ah look at that!” I say while getting out of my seat. “I got class in ten.”

Brianna grins. 

“Your class doesn’t start until 3:30, it’s only 3:05.”

I nod with a quick smile.

“I know!” I say. “I just need to get away from this conversation. Talk to you guys later!”

I’m out and away from the table before they can utter a goodbye.

***

Class was dull as usual. Thankfully it ended before my eyes glazed over and I can grab some dinner before heading back to my dorm. The classroom empty's out quickly, I rush to the exit of the building, ready for that cool air to hit me. 

“Ey! Y/N!” a booming voice calls.

I turn to see Jackson. He’s clad in his black and red Letterman jacket with the letters L and R embroidered on the front. His hair’s also gelled back to perfection, it looks awesome might I add. 

“Hey Jackson,” I say. “What’s up?”

I slow my pace for him to catch up with me from down the hall. The cool air hits my face, I sigh, then turn to Jackson, who’s already behind me as I hold the door for him. 

“Thanks,” he says as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You done with classes for today, right?”

I nod sharply. 

“Yep, you?”

Jackson chuckles.

“You know I don’’t have classes on Thursday,” he notes. 

I roll my eyes. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked. That’s what I want to say, but I restrain. I find myself doing that a lot here at La Rouge University. Don’t want to come across as that kind of black girl. Sure, Jackson and I are cool, I just don’t want him to put a thought into his head. I’m sure he’s seen many stereotypes of black women, black people in general. I don’t want to put that risk out, especially when Brianna and I have to had many talks with Wendy about it.       

“Hey,” Jackson says softly. “You good?”

I blink up at him as we stroll through the courtyard with the wind nipping at our skin. 

“Yeah, uh, I’m fine.”

Jackson smirks and leans closer to throw an arm around my shoulder. 

“So, Miss Y/LN,” he starts. “Tell me, how long has your little crush been a thing?”

I jolt at his words.

“Huh? C-crush? Nah, uh what do you mean a crush?”

Jackson chuckles and bats his eyes jokingly. 

“Don’t play coy!” he exclaims. “You looked like you were going to pass out around Sooyoung.”

My skin burns at his words. I wasn’t that obvious, was I?

“I-I, um, Sooyoung, who? Never heard of her.”

“Sure Jan.”

“When the hell did you watch the Brady Bunch?” I ask.

Jackson shrugs.

“I watched it with Yeri last weekend, you should have came over. I heard its a major part of American slang and memes which are hilarious.”

I nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, let’s discuss memes instead of Park Sooyoung oh-”

Jackson jabs his finger at me.

“You even know her last name, ha!” Jackson says. “You’re totally crushing right now.”

I sigh in defeat. 

“Fine, yes I like her all right. It’s not a big deal anyway.”

Jackson frowns. 

“It totally is,” he says. “Sooyoung and I are friends, along with classmates. I even know her schedule, for class and drama rehearsals.”

“Oh nice,” I say.

“I know that she’s free right now. Chilling at Reveluv Cafe, going over her lines, drinking some coffee or what not, looking stunning.”

I flush and cross my arms. 

“Yeah, probably flocked by drooling people,” I say. “She’s too stunning for her own good.”

“Yes, but unlike those drooling losers you’re going to talk to her.”

“I’m sorry, what? Jackson, no way,” I say. “She’s an actress, didn’t she act in a couple of K dramas?”

Jackson nods.

“Four actually,” he clarifies. “The first three were cameos, but the latest one she played a huge supporting role, over shadowed the male and female leads.”

“That doesn’t make my situation any better,” I deadpan. “she’s got status in her home country, gorgeous features and a promising career ahead of her. What the hell do I have?”

Jackson’s arm tightens around me.

“You’re sweet, pretty and nice to talk to,” he says. “You also have a career ahead of you crazy, that’s why you’re studying remember?” 

“You’re a friend,” I groan. “You’re inclined to say that.”

“Yeah, but even before we became friends, I always found you hot,” he admits.

I elbow him playfully in the ribs.

“Jackson Wang! Stop playing!” 

Jackson shakes his head.

“I’m dead serious, black women are sexy. And you definitely aren’t the exception.”

“Stop!” I laugh and playfully push him away. 

“What?” he chuckles. “look I know you find Asian guys attractive too! And I know good and well you like Asian women.”

He narrows his eyes and wiggles his eyebrows.

My face heats up as we enter the library for the second time today.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stop?” I joke.

Jackson nods.

“Talk to Sooyoung,” he suggests. “Hey, I can help! Start the conversation!”

I just stare at him as he puts his hands together. 

“Please?”

“Fine.”

***

Reveluv cafe is bright, a little too colorful for my taste, but still homey and comforting. The walls are covered in various fruits, some hand drawn and neon to bring, I guess variety. It’s cute. Even the floor is bright red, leading up to the counter that’s decorated with other tropical themes, the employees even wear sashes and white uniforms with fruit based buttons.

Jackson leads me to the lounging area of the cafe which has an area of circular tables and higher tables near the windows. Sitting at one in the corner at the far back is Sooyoung, her straight hair spills down her cream colored turtle neck. Her head’s down in a book, she’s transfixed on the page. 

“Jackson, maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Sooyoung, hey!”

Damnit Jackson.

Sooyoung’s head jerks up as a soft smile graces her lips. 

“Jackson, hi!”

I watch from behind Jackson. He walks up to Sooyoung, she stands and engulfs him in a hug. 

“How are lines going?” 

Sooyoung giggles.

“Great so far! What brings you and-” she pauses to look at me. “Hi, Y/N, right?”

I nod sharply. God, she remembered my name.  

“Yeah, hi Sooyoung.”

Jackson smirks with a knowing glare at me. Hasn’t this man clowned me enough?

“Y/N here was just nervous to speak to you.”

My hands start to tremble as Sooyoung looks to me with confusion.

“Why?” she asks. “You’re friends with Wendy and Yeri, so by default I think you’re cool.”

Wow. Park Sooyoung just called me cool. 

“Oh, she is,” Jackson declares. His mouth opens to say more, yet a slight buzz in his pocket stops him. 

“What is it?”

Jackson takes a look at his phone quickly before grinning back up at me, then Sooyoung.

“Sorry ladies, I kind of have a study date with Mr. IQ 148!” 

Sooyoung’s brows furrow. 

“Um, who?”

“Namjoon,” I say. “Jackson! Ah!”

I take his arm and whisper.

“You can’t leave yet,” I groan. 

Jackson pats my arm. 

“You got this babe, I promise to give you all the details with Namjoon if you give me the details you get with Sooyoung.”

God, this man is incorrigible.

“If I fuck this up you owe me so many smoothies.”

Jackson chuckles.

“You got to try first sweetie, she’s cool, you’ll see.”

Jackson says a quick goodbye to the both of us.

I turn back to Sooyoung who’s looking dead at me with her hands behind her back. 

“Would you like to sit?” she asks with another bright smile.

“Yeah, uh sure.”

She gestures to the empty seat across from her, I slide into it quickly, Sooyoung follows. 

“So, are you an English major like Wendy?”

I shake my head. 

“No, actually I’m a creative writing major.”

Sooyoung’s face lit up as she took a swig of her coffee.

“Really? So, you write your own books and stories?”

I nod, and try to hide a smile behind my hand. Her attention is fully on me. 

“Yeah, but mostly poems though,” I say, pausing once I meet Sooyoung’s eyes. I don’t finish, God I can hardly face her. If Jackson can see it than its got to be obvious to her.

“Y/N?” she asks. “Are you ok?”

“Y-Yeah, I-I I just-”

Sooyoung’s eyes soften as she takes my hand, which is already starting to get clammy and sweaty. 

“It’s ok, breathe,” she coaxes. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

I giggle, the action eases some of the anxiety. My heart rate goes down a bit, just a bit because Sooyoung’s hands are still over mine.

“I-I guess not to judge me, or freak out even,” I say. “I know we’re different, ok. And we’re both women.”

Sooyoung giggles, teeth baring rather sweetly.

“You’re cute,” she coos. “Yes, you’re American and-”

“Black,” I blurt. 

Sooyoung nods.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice,” Sooyoung jokes. She raises our interlocked hands together drawing my attention to my brown hand and her lighter, almost porcelain one. “Why? Is that an issue? Is that what’s making you so nervous?”

“Part of it, the truth is, I like you,” I admit. 

Sooyoung’s eyes widen, forcing me to pull my hand away from her own. She draws back to as she tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. My trembles don’t die down, but the flaring in my chest does. I nod as my eyes travel down to the table, I can’t look at Sooyoung right now. Of course I made a fool of myself.

“I uh, I can leave you alone now-”

“Wait, Y/N!”

She grabs my wrist before I can get up, it startles me. 

Our eyes meet again, Sooyoung giggles, the confidence she oozes makes me glance down at the legs of her chair. 

“Can I admit something too?” 

I nod, she then sighs lowly. 

“Can you look at me? Y/N?” 

Before I can register her question warm fingers juts my chin up, forcing my attention on her face. She smiles and I swear her eyes lingers down at my lips for a moment prior to moving back up to my eyes. 

“I’m flattered,” she whispers. “You’re really pretty, I’d love to go out. Maybe next week, if that’s ok?”

“I, um, yeah,” I mutter. “I-I’m looking forward to it.”

***

Weeks come and go. The teasing from Jackson, Brianna, Yeri, even Wendy (surprisingly) continues as the dates with Sooyoung get frequent. We’ve start to hold hands even, which is a huge step for me (Sooyoung initiated it first of course).  Dating Sooyoung has been surprising to say the least, she’s even more flirty now that we know more about each other, which makes me more anxious to be around her now. It’s fun to be around her, she’s interested in aspects of American culture that she doesn’t know much about. One in particular being memes, thanks to Jackson himself and even slang. It rubs me the wrong way to hear her say, ‘sup sweetie’ at times but she’s still learning. Right? I’m just thinking too much into it. I’m sure she won’t start talking black and Jackson learned not to from me, along with a quick, yet needed scolding from Brianna.  

 I arrive at Sooyoung’s apartment a sweaty mess. This is the first time I’ve been to her apartment and I already feel like I’m gonna mess this up. She talked about living with someone, but what I didn’t expect was a stunning woman with straight, blonde hair to answer the door. I don’t remember seeing her around campus, I’m sure the people would flock to her as much as they flock to Sooyoung too. 

“Hi, uh,” I pause at how intimating she looks. “I-I’m uh, Sooyoung invited me.”

The woman chuckles as she gives me a quick once over. 

“You must be Y/N,” she notes. “Come in.”  

She steps aside for me which I do. 

The house looks like a loft inside: a low, white couch sits in the middle of the living room, a flat screen hugs the far wall, the carpet is clear and fluffy covering most of the floor, leading to the staircase. 

“Joohyun!” Sooyoung calls while rushing down the stairs. “Y-Y/N, hi.”

I give her a tiny wave as Joohyun chuckles. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your date,” Joohyun says with a quick wink at me and a narrow eyed glare at Sooyoung. 

“How long are gonna be out unnie?” Sooyoung asks. 

Joohyun giggles and raises an eyebrow.

“Why?” she asks. “You both aren’t going to have too much fun, are you?”

My eyes scan down to the carpet to memorize how spotless it is. 

“Joohyun! Y-You’re so embarrassing!” Sooyoung exclaims. I see her black sock covered feet next to mine. 

“All jokes Sooyoung,” Joohyun explains. “I’ll be staying at Seulgi’s tonight. It was a pleasure meeting you Y/N.”

“Same here,” I say. 

When I meet Joohyun’s eyes her intimating demeanor disperses. An easy, toothy smile now replaces it. Once she waves and is out the door, Sooyoung’s hands are on my face. 

“I’m so sorry about her,” she groans. “She didn’t frighten you too much, did she?”

“Not really,” I admit. “Does she always do this to people she doesn’t know?”

Sooyoung giggles.

“Yeah, she’s just protective is all,” she explains. “Now, would you like to watch the show here in the living room or.”

She steps up to rest her hands on my sides. 

“My room could work, I have plenty of stuffed animals,” she suggests. “We could cuddle.”

She smiles, my heart flutters as she intertwines our hands together. I lose my breathe as she steps closer, our faces suddenly an inch apart. She’s using a bright, red lipstick, perfect at this distance. Kissabl-

“Can I kiss you?” she asks.

I nod, she tilts her head to the right before our lips meet. Her lips are smooth, with a cherry taste. I didn’t even know lipstick could taste this good. She smiles against my lips, her hands wind themselves around my waist in order to deepen the kiss. Sooyoung’s fevered kisses keep my lips moving with her, it continues until I run out of breath, forcing me to pull away. 

“How was that?” she asks prior to biting her lip. 

“It was I-”

It takes me a minute to gather my words. I never kissed a woman before and that was-

“Amazing,” I manage to say.  

Sooyoung chuckles lowly, takes my hand and leads me to the couch. 

“Yeah, would it be dope if we continue?” 

I cringe at the word dope, she notices right away.

“What is it? I’m rushing things aren’t I?” she asks.

I shake my head, but think about it for a moment. I want to have this conversation about our different cultures. Of course it’s something we’re got to talk about but why do I feel as if its so awkward? It’s just a few words, right? I just don’t want to come across as that kind of person. That kind of black person especially. 

“Y/N,” Sooyoung says. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, it’s just uh,” I pause to finally form coherent words. “Slang, it’s um kind of weird when you say it-not saying that it’s bad or anything its just.”

I pause again to sit next to Sooyoung, who listens intently. 

“It’s your thing, right?” she asks. “As an American?”

“As an African American, as a black person,” I say. “I just don’t want you to use certain terms without knowing where they come from. I’m curious about Korean too, but I want to go by it respectfully. I want to respect you.”

Sooyoung’s eyes lighten up, her fingers play with my right hand as a smile spreads across her face.

“I want to respect you too jagi, ah! To be honest I got most of those words from Jackson anyway.”

I roll my eyes. 

“I’m not even surprised.”

“So, can we still watch the drama?” she asks with a playful frown.

“Of course!”

Sooyoung lets out a delighted giggle, presses a quick kiss to my cheek and moves to turn the flat-screen on. Maybe dating Park Sooyoung wasn’t going to be so difficult after all. 

[unfolded73]

My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (3/4) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.

Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.

The title is from “Overkill” by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.

Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.

Rated Teen, this chapter 4390 words. (ao3)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3

“Well, you look like shit,” Stevie said as she and David walked into his hospital room Wednesday morning.

“Thanks,” Patrick said as David took advantage of his parents’ absence to lean over and kiss him.

“Did you sleep okay?” David asked, pulling up a chair to sit close. Patrick reached for David’s hand, taking it and squeezing it.

“Not really.” He felt terrible, but it was hard to tell if that was because of the constant aching pain coming from his arm and torso.

“So Alexis and Ted were able to get onto the lot where your car was towed and they found your phone,” David said, pulling a phone with a cracked screen out of his pocket. “We’ll have to plug it in to see if it still works,” he said as he grabbed Patrick’s charger out of the duffel bag and plugged the phone in.

“What about the merchandise?” Patrick asked.

David grimaced. “There were a lot of broken bottles. They saved what they could.”

“Let the vendors know that we’ll pay them for the lost merchandise. It should be covered by our insurance,” Patrick said, shifting his body and wincing at the pain in his side. “We’ll have to file a claim.”

“Okay, but I don’t want you to worry about that right now,” David said, leaning over and nuzzling against Patrick’s cheek. It felt like David was trying to absorb as much physical affection as he could while he had the opportunity.

“So what did your arm look like before, was it really gross?” asked Stevie from her spot leaning against the wall.

“Don’t answer that,” David warned. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“It’s a little better. And I’ve managed to walk to the bathroom to pee without passing out, so that’s a big accomplishment.”

David laughed. “I’m so proud.” He let go of Patrick’s hand and stroked up and down his right arm affectionately.

“I assume my parents got settled in okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Stevie said, “we were going to talk about the lube—”

“No, we weren’t,” David said quickly, then in explanation to Patrick, he added, “Stevie went over and scrubbed the apartment of evidence of our relationship yesterday before your parents got there.”

Patrick’s stomach sank. Now his cowardice had not only hurt David, but had forced their friends to sneak around like they were in a farce. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“And I told my family not to say anything if they ran into your parents in town. Although they can’t really be relied on at all not to open their big mouths, so really it’s a bit of a crap shoot. But I told your parents that the food at the café was terrible, which wasn’t even a lie, so hopefully they won’t go there.”

Patrick imagined Johnny Rose stumbling through a conversation with his parents and revealing the nature of David and Patrick’s relationship. It was a terrifying idea, although he had to admit that a tiny part of him wanted it to happen. At least it would save him from having to break the news.

He really needed to tell his parents before this went on any longer.

“I’ll tell my parents when they get here this morning,” Patrick blurted out.

David grimaced. “You don’t have to rush, honey,” he said, still stroking his arm.

“No, David, this isn’t fair to you. I—”

“Good morning!” And there his parents were, walking into the room. David flinched back, his hand dropping from Patrick’s arm.

“We didn’t know you’d have visitors already so early,” Marcy said warmly, looking back and forth between David and Stevie.

“Yeah, we thought we’d stop in before I have to open the store,” David said as if a visit to the hospital didn’t require almost an hour and a half of driving.

“Should I point out that you’re already late opening the store?” Patrick gave him a teasing smirk.

“Everyone in town has heard about your car accident; I’m sure they’ll be forgiving,” David said.

“It’s good to see you again, Stevie,” Clint said, and Stevie gave him an awkward little wave.

“You guys met already?” Patrick asked.

“Yes, we met at your wonderful store, dear,” Marcy said.

“I gave your parents a quick tour of the store yesterday afternoon before they drove over to Brebner’s. I told them our fresh vegetables were much better,” David added.

“You were right,” Clint said.

It all felt like it was spinning out of his control, if it ever had been in his control — while Patrick lay helpless in his hospital bed, David and Stevie were spending time with his parents. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to have told them about his relationship with David, and they were supposed to see the truth of his life in Schitt’s Creek. He was supposed to have given them a tour of the store. They were supposed to see how settled and happy he was in the town with the people that knew him as half of ‘David and Patrick.’ Instead they were getting this incomplete, false version of him.

“David, I need to get back to the motel soon,” Stevie said, and David stood up. Patrick felt an urge to grab for his hand, to stop him from leaving. Instead he lay there, paralyzed by doubt.

A nurse came in then. “Goodness, you’re very popular this morning, Patrick,” she said, picking up his chart and making some notes from the screens behind his head.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby?” Stevie said to David, and then patted Patrick’s foot. “Feel better,” she said before disappearing from the room.

“You’re scheduled for blood work today, so I’m here to steal some blood,” said the nurse. Her name was Janice, Patrick remembered; she’d been on duty before. She pulled some tubes out of her pocket and lined them up on the table.

“Stevie seems nice,” Marcy said. ‘And she’s very pretty.”

“Marcy,” Clint said, a warning tone in his voice.

“What? I’m just saying.”

“No, you’re matchmaking,” Clint replied.

As she tightened the rubber band around his bicep and skillfully inserted the needle into his arm, Janice raised her eyebrows at Patrick, cut her eyes over to David, and then tilted her head almost imperceptibly toward Patrick’s parents. Her meaning was as clear as if she’d spoken out loud — they don’t know David is your boyfriend? Patrick shook his head as the first tube filled with blood. No, they don’t know. Janice nodded.

“I’m not matchmaking,” Marcy said. “But you can’t blame me for wanting to see Patrick happy in a relationship.” Patrick glanced at David, but David was studying his nails, his face carefully blank. Whether he was averting his gaze to avoid seeing blood or to avoid this conversation, Patrick wasn’t certain.

“Oh, don’t worry, Patrick’s having a torrid affair with most of the nurses on staff, the heartbreaker,” Janice said with a conspiratorial wink.

His parents laughed, and his mother dropped her line of inquiry. Thank you, Patrick mouthed to Janice, who smirked.

Once the four vacutainer tubes were filled, Janice checked his chart again. “Whoops, forgot to record your temperature.” She pulled out a thermometer and put it under Patrick’s tongue, waiting for the beep before reading the number.

“38.1,” she said, clucking her tongue. “You’re running a bit of a fever today, Patrick.”

“What does that mean?” David asked.

“Could be nothing — patients get unexplained fevers in hospitals all the time — but we want to rule out an infection stemming from his forearm fracture. I’ll page Dr. Barnes.” She patted Patrick’s hand and left the room.

His mother took Janice’s place, putting her hand on his forehead. “You do feel warm. Would you like me to get a wet cloth for your head?”

“No, Mom. I’m fine,” Patrick sighed as he shut his eyes. No wonder he was feeling so shitty.

“I’m sorry about before,” she said. “I know you told us that you weren’t seeing anyone, but I guess deep down I was hoping to meet a girlfriend. You’re such a catch, sweetheart.”

Patrick opened his eyes and met David’s. He could tell them now, but the fever was making him feel like he wanted to sleep for a thousand years. “There’s no girlfriend,” he said.

“Not in all the time you’ve lived here?” Marcy asked.

Patrick shook his head, still looking at David. He just needed to say it. I’m gay. There isn’t ever going to be a girlfriend. There’s David, who I think might be the love of my life.

He opened his mouth, and Dr. Barnes came through the door.

“Patrick, what’s this fever nonsense?” she chided jokingly. “Didn’t I teach you better than that?”

Chuckling weakly, Patrick tried to communicate to David with his eyes that he’d been on the verge of coming out, if only his doctor didn’t have the worst imaginable timing.

Dr. Barnes probed and prodded him, removing the splint from his arm long enough to unwrap the bandages and examine it. The movement was excruciating, but Patrick tried not to show the pain on his face in front of David and his parents. David was averting his eyes again anyway to avoid seeing Patrick’s injury.

“Still no sign of infection from the wound, so I think this is just a run-of-the-mill fever,” she said as she replaced the bandages and the splint. “But we can’t take any chances, so we’ll have to keep you at least one more night for observation.”

Patrick sighed in frustration. He really wanted to go home. He desperately wanted to be in his own bed being held by his boyfriend, even if having David moving around next to him in the bed would make his injuries more painful. He didn’t care.

“I know, it sucks. But infections are no joke.” The doctor made some notes on Patrick’s chart. “I’ll check in again toward the end of my shift, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, lying back on the pillows as she left.

“Your phone seems to be working,” David said, holding it up from where it was plugged in to show Patrick the screen. His voice sounded strangled. “I’ve gotta go. I can’t keep Stevie waiting any longer.” He reached out briefly, but then dropped his hand. “Maybe you can text me later?”

“Of course,” Patrick said, his own voice almost cracking with emotion.

“Bye,” David said, turning quickly and leaving the room.

His father was looking thoughtfully at him, and Patrick tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. “You’ve got a good friend there, Patrick.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s the best,” Patrick said, drowsiness swamping out his ability to say anything more.

~*~

“He’s not going to tell them,” David said to the passenger window of Stevie’s car.

“David, give the guy a break — he’s clearly not feeling a hundred percent right now.”

He ignored Stevie’s very logical argument. “I mean, look at him. Look at his parents. I’ll never fit in with the wholesome, clean-cut vibe they have going on. Why would he want to tell his parents that he ended up with…” He gestured manically up and down at himself. “... this?”

Stevie cast a vicious side-eye in his direction. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he blurted out in a high voice.

“David, he loves you. You know he loves you. Stop with this bullshit.”

He didn’t want to argue about it. Stevie wasn’t going to understand — she didn’t know what coming from a home that wasn’t dysfunctional was like anymore than he did. She didn’t understand that broken people like him didn’t have a place with families like that. Families where parents dropped everything and came rushing to their son’s aid, and not just because they thought he’d taken a prized crocodile bag.

He finally got the store open at ten-thirty, and a few people stopped by before lunch to inquire about Patrick. It was sweet, David thought, that people cared so much, but having to field their questions about Patrick’s health wasn’t helping his anxiety. By the afternoon, he was doing a fairly brisk business, which limited the amount of time he could spend spiraling about his relationship. Worrying that Patrick was realizing that if he was too ashamed to tell his parents that the two of them were dating, then their relationship was probably doomed.

By the time the Brewers themselves walked into the store just before closing, David was just about ready to jump out of his skin.

“Hi,” David said, and then immediately began to fret that he’d lost the ability to even say ‘hi’ like a normal person. “Is Patrick okay?”

“He is,” Marcy said. “They did some more tests and there’s no sign of infection, so he should be discharged tomorrow. They also went ahead and put a cast on his arm.”

David nodded, relieved. “Do you know how long you plan to stay in town? Do you have to get back home for work, or…?” He racked his brain, trying to remember what they did for a living. Clint did something in an office, he was pretty sure, and Marcy he couldn’t remember at all.

“We both had personal days to spare,” Clint said, “but I think we’ll head home on Sunday morning if Patrick doesn’t need more help.”

He has me, David wanted to shout, and he pressed his lips together to keep it in. “Do you need a place to stay for the remaining nights after Patrick is discharged? I can call Stevie and have her reserve a room at the motel.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a high-class establishment, but at least it’s close.” It would also put Patrick’s parents in close proximity to his own parents, which was risky, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse not to have them stay at the motel.

“Oh, that would be great, David. Thank you,” Marcy said.

“We were thinking,” Clint said, “we’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

David tried to limit his physical recoil to the suggestion of spending so much uninterrupted time with Patrick’s parents. “You don’t have to do that.” He wasn’t sure if he could keep up this charade for another minute, much less an entire meal without Patrick there as a buffer.

“Please, David?” Marcy was weaponizing her eyes — he could see that Patrick came by it honestly. “It’s the least we can do.”

He looked around for a good excuse not to have dinner with Patrick’s parents. “I have to close up the store.”

“We can pick you up whenever you’re done,” Clint reasoned. “I’m in the mood for pizza, and I spotted a place near the hospital. Do you know it?”

David nodded reluctantly. “Reginos. It’s surprisingly good.” It was where he and Patrick had gone for their second date.

“Great. What time will you be finished here?” Clint asked, in a way that indicated he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.

David thought about it. He didn’t have Patrick to help, and he’d let most of the closing up tasks slide the night before. “Umm, six-thirty?”

Clint clapped his hands together. “We’ll be back at six-thirty to pick you up.” He seemed very pleased, so David tried to look pleased too. He suspected his smile wasn’t quite cutting it.

As soon as they left, he texted Patrick. He wasn’t sure if Patrick would be checking his phone, but he hoped. Help, your parents are taking me for pizza. No response came immediately, so David went to work cashing out the register drawer.

His phone didn’t ping until he’d finished with the bookkeeping and was starting to sweep the floor. David leaned the broom against the counter and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Patrick: I would kill for some pizza.

David: I’ll get you as many pizzas as you can stand when you’re home.

Patrick was typing for a while — David assumed he must be doing it with one thumb, poor thing.

Patrick: I miss you. Been thinking about you all day.

It wasn’t until he saw this text that David realized — ever since he left the hospital that morning, a part of his brain had been spooling out a scenario in which Patrick had decided to break up with him. Seeing that text made him weak with relief. He pressed the button to call Patrick.

“Hey,” Patrick said as soon as the call connected.

“Your typing was too slow. And I miss you too. But what the hell am I going to talk about during an entire meal with your parents?”

Patrick sighed heavily. “I’ve just made this worse for you. I was going to tell them this morning, but doctors and nurses kept coming in and out, and I felt like shit, and—”

“Honey, I told you. You don’t have to apologize.” David probed his feelings for the resentment he knew he’d be justified in feeling, but all he could find was sympathy. “I know this kind of thing is hard for you.”

“I keep wondering if you’re just holding back on being angry with me because I’m in the hospital,” Patrick said.

“I promise I’m not.” David took a deep breath. “I keep wondering if, faced with the idea of telling your parents about us, you’re realizing that I’m all wrong for you.”

“David. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They were silent for several seconds, basking in each other’s reassurances.

“Ask them to tell you stories about when I was little, that’ll keep them going for a while,” Patrick said. “Or talk about the store.”

“Okay, good ideas. Got any others?”

“I don’t know, tell them about the time you went parasailing with Anderson Cooper?” Patrick said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m not going to be doing that.”

“Will you be here in the morning when I get sprung from this place?”

“Won’t your parents think it’s weird, me being there?” David asked.

“I think I’ll ask them to meet us at the apartment. Can you pick me up? Just you?” His voice sounded small.

“I guess I’m going to be doing a lot of that until you can replace your car,” David responded with a smile that he hoped Patrick could hear.

Patrick groaned. “I hadn’t really even thought about that yet.”

“And you don’t need to,” David said, immediately regretting that he’d brought it up. “Just get some rest tonight and I’ll see you in the morning.”

~*~

Clint ran his fingers over the edge of the checkered tablecloth as the server put menus in front of them. “What’s good here, David?”

David’s eyes widened like he’d been asked a personal question rather than just what kind of pizza he liked. “Um, the meat lover is good. And the chicken pesto.” His lips slid to the side in a little half-smile. “Patrick likes the spicy barbecue chicken.”

Marcy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like spicy pizza.”

“Yes, thank you,” David said. “Spicy food is fine, but that’s another genre of food from pizza. Spiciness destroys the flavor palette of a pizza; I’ve told him a million times.”

“I’m afraid he gets that from me, but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there are certain foods I can’t get when I’m out with my wife,” Clint said, winking at Marcy.

“Or when you’re going to be sleeping next to me afterwards,” Marcy said, which made David laugh with surprise.

They ordered the meat lover pizza on David’s recommendation, and with that task completed, their conversation lulled. Clint tried not to be too blatant in his observation of David, this man who had gone into business with his son last year. This man who Patrick often ended up talking about during their phone calls when he ran out of other things to tell them about.

This man who, after this morning, Clint was convinced his son was in love with.

He didn’t think Marcy had noticed, and he’d decided not to bring it up to her in the car. He wanted to turn it over in his mind some more, determine if it had the weight of truth. But he’d seen the look on Patrick’s face when his eyes met David’s in that hospital room, and he was fairly certain he wasn’t wrong.

“So did Patrick really start playing hockey when he was four?” David asked suddenly. He grimaced almost like he was surprised the question had come out of his mouth.

Marcy launched into the story of the time she strapped their son into hockey gear and put him on the ice for his first lesson, and Clint watched the warmth grow in David’s eyes as he listened to the tale. It became clear during the conversation that David didn’t know anything about hockey, but he seemed interested nonetheless, asking follow-up questions about what Patrick had been like as a child until the pizza arrived, steaming and delicious.

They asked David about his own family as they ate. He hesitated at first in his responses, but he soon warmed to the topic. He talked about his father going into business with Stevie to save the motel, his mother serving on town council, and his sister starting her own business. It became clear that David was proud of what his family had accomplished in Schitt’s Creek.

“You’ve all done so much after such a terrible thing happened to you,” Marcy said.

“I think most people see what happened to us as karmic justice,” David said. “People love stories about rich people being knocked down a few pegs.”

“Well,” Marcy said thoughtfully, “I can’t pretend to know what your life was like before, but regardless, it’s unfair that you had everything stolen away. And it’s admirable, what your family has done for your town.”

David blushed, averting his eyes and wiping his hands with a napkin. “Thank you,” he said in a soft voice.

After dinner, they dropped David off at the motel before driving back to Patrick’s apartment. Marcy excused herself to the bathroom, and Clint pulled out his phone and called Patrick.

“Hey, Dad,” Patrick said when he answered, his voice sounding stronger than it had earlier in the day. “How was dinner?”

“It was good. Just checking to make sure they’re still planning to spring you in the morning.”

“Yeah, as far as I know.”

“What time should we be there to pick you up?” Clint asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. David’s going to pick me up tomorrow,” Patrick said.

“Doesn’t he have to open the store? It’s no problem for us to be there.”

“Nope,” Patrick said firmly. “We’ll meet you at the apartment.”

Clint smiled to himself. “You must be excited to get home.”

Patrick chuckled. “You have no idea. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad. Love you.”

Marcy came out of the bathroom just as Clint was getting off the phone. “Patrick said David’s going to pick him up from the hospital tomorrow. He wants to meet us here.”

She frowned. “There’s no need for David to do that.”

“Well, Patrick wasn’t taking no for an answer.” He moved over to the window, shifting the curtain aside to look out on the nondescript lawn in the front of the apartment building. He remembered the last time Patrick broke up with Rachel, the night he came over to tell them he needed to move away and get a fresh start. “I keep going back to her by default but it’s never right. It’s not what I want.”

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Marcy asked him.

He took a shaky breath, his eyes changing focus so that he mostly saw the reflection of the apartment in the window glass instead of the landscape outside. “Do you remember that boy, Mark? The captain of the baseball team when Patrick was in grade ten?”

“The catcher? Yes, I remember.”

��Do you remember how much Patrick used to talk about him? Walking us through every play at the plate he made?” They would ask Patrick how baseball practice had gone, and inevitably the story would turn to Mark — the way he played, or the funny things he said in the locker room.

“I mean, I guess so. Why?”

“He never talked about Rachel like that. Not even back then.”

“Clint, what are you talking about?”

He turned and faced his wife. “I said before that I thought David had unrequited feelings for Patrick, but I watched them at the hospital this morning. I watched Patrick. There’s nothing unrequited about it.”

Marcy frowned. “So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying if they aren’t a couple, then they’ve both got feelings for each other they aren’t talking about,” Clint said.

Confusion was evident on Marcy’s face. “But Patrick dated Rachel for years. And other girls.”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot today,” Clint said with an unhappy sigh. He sat down on the sofa and put his elbows on his knees. “He was almost boxed into dating Rachel before he’d finished going through puberty. They were best friends for practically their whole lives. Everyone expected them to start dating when they got old enough, us included. And Patrick has always been such a people-pleaser; he did what was expected of him from the time he was little.”

He stood up again and paced across the floor, unable to sit still. “And, look, he could be… bisexual. Or some other orientation that I don’t know the name of. I don’t know. I just saw the look on that boy’s face this morning when he looked at David. And I don’t think I ever saw him look at Rachel that way.”

“So if that’s true, why hasn’t he told us? Why are they keeping it a secret?”

Clint ran his hands over his face. “I don’t know.”

“We’ve never given Patrick any reason to think we wouldn’t accept him, have we?”

“Other than to encourage him to get back together with Rachel when they were struggling?”

Marcy’s face fell. “And then I just assumed … with Stevie earlier, and other girls… I defaulted to the idea of him being straight. It never occurred to me not to.”

Clint walked over and took her hand. “Me either. So, we start making up for it now. Yeah?”

She wiped away a stray tear. “Yeah.”

Chapter 4

[citrinekay]

hi! i have a prompt/headcanon i’d like to share 🥰: (can be modern au) they’re out at a bar and someone starts flirting with holden. cue jealous!bill. Love your writing! ❤️

Thanks for the prompt!! I love doing the modern au 💕 I’m considering this a sequel to a previous prompt that you can read over on AO3, Chapter 12: Earth Angel. But you don’t need to read that one to understand this one :)

The radio is playing some upbeat, percussive rap-pop duo tune that is grating on Bill’s nerves, but he’s too wrapped up in his thoughts to move his hand from the steering wheel to change the station. His other hand is tucked out the open window, dispelling cigarette ashes into the night air. The smoke is dwindled down to a stub, burned low by his silent machinations and itching agitation. 

Flicking a glance across the car, Bill discreetly studies Holden’s face illuminated in the glow of his cellphone screen. His thumb scrolls lazily, and his expression is coolly relaxed. He isn’t nervous at all. 

Bill looks away sharply when Holden’s gaze lifts from his phone. 

“What?” He asks. 

“Nothing.” Bill says, focusing on the road ahead. 

The street light flashes to red, and he pushes down on the brake a little too hard. The car comes to a halting stop, plunging them into silence. Bill curls his fingers tighter around the wheel until his knuckles blanch white. 

“You know, you didn’t have to come tonight.” Holden says, his tone brooking on irritation. 

Bill scoffs. 

“You didn’t. Seriously. I get why it could be too much for you to-”

“It’s not too much for me.” Bill interrupts, his mouth tensing with an offended grimace. 

Holden releases a clipped sigh. 

Bill doesn’t want to argue, but the disagreement is already rippling beneath the surface like an electric current, threatening flame. He takes a hard drag of his cigarette. 

They’re six months into their relationship. Publicly, only three months. Some people don’t mind stretching the boundaries and exploring new experiences together after that short period of time, but to Bill, who was married for fifteen years, three months is the blink of an eye. Unsteady ground. Sharp learning curves and fast balls he’s juggling just as quickly as he can. Is going to a gay bar together really the kind of limb they should be crawling out onto right now?

It doesn’t matter. Their co-worker, Jared, had suggested they come out for drinks tonight since it’s Memorial Day, and Holden had all but harangued Bill into going. Maybe harangued isn’t the right word. He’d announced he was going, and Bill hadn’t been able to divest him of the notion; and he couldn’t stand the thought of Holden going alone either. Does that make him the jealous boyfriend? Maybe so. There’s nothing he can do about it. 

As Bill parks along the curb outside the bar, he squints at the group of young men standing out front smoking. They’re all scarcely dressed in shorts and crop-tops. One of them is even wearing heels. To Bill, they look like the kind of delinquents he’d spent his beat cop days chasing off street corners, but his opinions since then have changed. He has to remind himself not to be so judgmental. 

“Ready?” Holden asks, his tone bursting with excitement. 

“Yeah.” Bill mutters. 

Holden leans across the seat to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Take a few deep breaths. I promise, I’m not throwing you to the wolves.”

“I’m fine. I said I’m fine.”

“Okay. Just try to have fun, will you?” Holden says, his mouth curling in a knowing smile. 

He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and climbs out onto the sidewalk. 

 Bill takes one last drag of his cigarette before pitching it out onto the sidewalk. Drawing in a deep breath, he climbs out of the car, and meets Holden at the hood. Holden’s fingers wind between his, dragging him across the street towards the front of the bar. 

As they approach the front door, one of the young men, wearing a full face of makeup and a blond wig, waves at them. 

“Hey, there.”

“Hi.” Holden says, smiling at the young drag queen amiably. 

“Staying for the show?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

“Ooh, wonderful. I’ll look for your face in the crowd.” The queen says, painted lips casting Holden a coy smile before shifting her gaze to Bill. “You too, soldier boy.”

Bill opens his mouth to muster a defensive reply, but Holden’s fingers tighten around his, sternly guiding him past the front door. The interior of the bar is dimly lit, the air vibrating with the thump of dance music and the buzz of conversation. Strobe lights flash across the tables surrounding the peninsular platform and the crowded bar area, making it difficult to distinguish faces in the churning mass of bodies. 

Bill immediately feels the tension in his body ratchet up a notch further, all of his instincts telling him to get the hell out right now. Holden had promised he wasn’t throwing him to the wolves, but this feels distinctly hostile - a pointed attack on his sheltered ideals, on himself. 

After they show their IDs, Holden drags Bill further into the crowded room. 

“There’s Jared!” He shouts over the thump of the music, pointing a finger at their co-worker standing in a group of young men at the far end of the bar. 

Jared waves back at them, an ecstatic smile breaking out on his face. 

Clutching Bill’s hand, Holden leads them through the sea of bodies. Bill keeps his gaze focused ahead, avoiding accidental eye contact with any of the numerous scantily clad men around him. He feels entirely out of place in his jeans and golf shirt, his graying hair and crew cut. Most of the people in the bar are closer to Holden’s age or younger with the few older men looking like tattooed muscle heads clinging to fleeting youth. 

His hand is sweating around Holden’s by the time they make their way down the bar to where Jared and his friends are standing. 

“Hey, guys, I’m so glad you could make it.” Jared says, giving Holden a quick hug. 

Bill offers a handshake, blocking off the possibility of an embrace. Jared looks like he’s already a few drinks in, his cheeks flushed pink below the strobe light and his eyes glistening with a liquor glaze. 

“Bill, man-” Jared says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I gotta say, I’m surprised to see you.”

“Well, here I am.” Bill says, ruefully. 

“Oh, don’t let him fool you.” Holden says, leaning into Bill with a sly chuckle. “I practically had to hog tie him.”

“That isn’t true.” Bill says. 

Holden’s fingers push playfully into his ribs as he rises up on his toes to plant a kiss on Bill’s mouth. “You’re cute.”

Jared snickers. “Ever been to a drag show before, Bill?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, you are in for a treat. And I think you need a drink in your hand.” 

Jared waves down the bartender, and in just a few minutes, Bill has a rum and coke in his hand while Holden is sipping a cosmo. They crowd around the bar with Jared who is apparently a seasoned regular at the club. Bill keeps his hand braced against Holden’s lower back as they’re introduced to a seemingly endless string of friends and acquaintances most of whom are already partially inebriated. They’re all so carefree and jovial, easily flaunting their sexuality and having a good time, but their free spirits have the opposite effect on Bill’s raw nerves. 

Before he knows it, he’s downed two rum and cokes and is working on his third. Holden is carrying on a lively conversation with Jared and his friends, a discussion that Bill can’t think of anything he has to contribute to. Quietly, he starts to wonder just how early they can slip out of the bar without being called light-weights or party-poopers; but just as his lips are feeling numb from the rum, a voice over the PA system announces the drag show is starting in ten minutes. 

Jared whoops, “Hell yeah. The best part of the night. Come on!”

Bill grits his teeth as Jared heads for the stage, creating a mass exodus of his friends crowded around the bar. He hangs back, his stomach knotting with a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety. He’s seen a man in a dress before - on police reports, crime scene photos. Not in a bar where it’s openly accepted and encouraged. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about it. 

“You okay?” Holden asks, lowering his voice as he slides off the bar stool. 

“Yeah, fine.”

“You’re drinking a lot.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” 

“Do you want to leave?” Holden asks, his brow rising impatiently. 

“What do you think?”

“Can you at least try to relax and have a good time?” Holden asks, his brow pinching with frustration. “You’re not even giving it a chance.”

“What do you want me to say, Holden? This isn’t my thing.”

“It could be if you would let it. Everyone here is nice. They’re not trying to attack you; they’re just trying to have a good time, make friends. It’s a community.”

“Oh, so you’re going to lecture me right now? In the middle of a gay bar?”

Holden glances away, his jaw tightening beneath the pink glow of the strobe lights. His hair is disheveled, his temples sweat-lined in the cramped humidity of the bar. On another night, Bill would have thought he looked irresistible. Right now, he’s just pissing Bill off. 

“Well, I’m not leaving.” Holden says, sharply. “You can go home if you want.”

“What? I’m not leaving you here.”

“I could find a ride home. It’s not like you’re leaving me with a group of strangers to be raped or something.”

“Jesus. That’s not what I was implying.”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

Before Bill can protest, Holden turns and marches into the crowd of bodies gathering around the platform. A percussive, pop anthem blasts from the speakers, and the strobe lights switch to red, white, and blue as a voice over the speakers announces the beginning of the show. 

Bill glances around the bar, his stomach turning. If he leaves right now, he’s not living it down. Not with Holden, or Jared, or anyone else. And he should really try harder, he thinks. Like Holden says, if he gives it a chance it might not be all bad. He can do this. He survived Desert Storm. A gay bar should be no problem. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Bill orders another drink from the bar, and makes his way through the crowd just as the first drag queen is strutting down the platform. His newly gathered courage flags immediately when he sees Holden seated at one of the tables next to a middle-aged guy with shaggy, black hair and a muscular build. 

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” The guy is saying, leaning closer to Holden attentively despite the drag show playing out above them. 

“I’m friends with Jared.” Holden says, pointing out Jared from across the aisle. “We work together.”

“Oh, yeah, Jared’s cool. What’s your name?”

“Holden.”

“Holden?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, okay. Like Catcher In the Rye.”

“Yeah, just like that.”

“Well, your parents were kind of bold naming you after a guy like that. Talk about a conversation starter.”

“Yeah, if you’re into classic literature.”

“I am. I’m into other things, too.” The guy says, leaning closer with a coy smile. “Are you on Grindr?”

“Um, no. I was a few months ago.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, I-”

Holden’s reply stops in the back of his throat as Bill walks up to the table. The guy sitting next to him glances up, the eager gleam in his eyes fading away as Bill glares down at him. 

“Bill …” Holden says, shifting away from the guy’s comfortable posture. “Um … this is Alex.”

“Hi.” Alex says, rising from his chair to offer his hand. “Who are you?”

“Leaving.” Bill says. 

Holden’s mouth slips open as Bill catches him by the hand, and pulls him up from the table. 

“Bill-” Holden begins to protest, his cheeks flushing pink. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

Without waiting for Holden to agree, Bill leads them through the crowd of swaying bodies, away from the thud of the music, the show, the lights.

As they emerge out into the night air, Holden resists against Bill’s hand around his wrist. 

“Bill, stop. Wait.”

“Who the fuck was that guy?” Bill demands, spinning around to pin Holden with a fiery glare. “And since when were you on Grindr?”

“He- He was a friend of Jared’s I think.” Holden sputters, his eyes widening with disbelief. “I don’t know. He just sat down and started talking to me.”

“He wasn’t just talking, Holden. He was trying to fuck you. I may be a little new to this scene, but I know when somebody is interested.”

“So? I wasn’t interested in him!” 

They both pauses, staring back and forth at each other and panting in agitated frustration. 

Bill turns away, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Fucking Christ.” He curses, trying to shove down the heat of anger in his chest. 

He can feel himself overreacting, but he’s too stupid and jealous and buzzed to make it stop. Where did all of his self-control go? 

“You are blowing this out of proportion.” Holden says, his voice dropping to a wounded whisper. “God, I knew this was a mistake.”

“So then why did you agree to come here tonight?” Bill asks, cutting him a withering glare. 

“Because Jared is my friend, Bill. And I am not just going to stop living my life because we’re dating now. I’m not going to change my group of friends, or stop doing things I enjoy. And I’m sure as hell not going put up with you acting like a selfish, jealous asshole.”

Silence settles again. Bill’s face is burning, an acidic mix of rage and humiliation. 

“Fine.” He says, his voice dropping to a choked whisper. “Go back in there then. Go have fun.”

Holden’s expression falls from anger to disbelief as Bill turns to march across the street towards the car. His hands curl into fists at his sides, squeezing back the shudder of anger; but his rage has already waned into something closer to crushing disappointment. Not in Holden, but in himself. 

As he reaches the car, Holden’s clipped pace across the asphalt draws his attention. He glances up to see Holden jogging towards him, his face etched with defiance. He draws to a stop a few feet away, his eyes glistening beneath the yellow glow of the street lamp.

“I’m coming with you.” He says, softly.

Bill nods, his throat too thick with tangled emotion to speak. He ducks into the car, and twists the key forcefully into the ignition. Holden climbs into the passenger’s seat, sinking low against the leather cushioning as Bill pulls away from the curb. 

They drive in silence, hurt feelings throbbing angrily beneath the surface like an open wound. Bill keeps trying to think of something to say, but every crafted apology is immediately crushed by his own flinching insecurities. He wants to hang onto his rage because it feels better than vulnerability. It’s partially justified, isn’t it? Maybe all the other gays at the bar are fine with flirting along the borders of their committed relationship, but he isn’t. He isn’t like any of them. He’s just the idiot who fell in love with his co-worker and blew up his entire life. 

As they’re nearing home, Holden glances over at him. 

“You know, I deleted Grindr from my phone as soon as we got together.” He says, quietly. 

“I can’t believe you were on there in the first place.”

Holden shakes his head, his arms curling across his chest. “God. You really need to get your head out of your ass. You have no idea what it’s like. You just stumbled into this relationship - which was a good thing until now, by the way - without even trying. You don’t know what it’s like to try to date when you're a minority. How hard it is to meet people. How fucking lonely it gets. Please, don’t tell me I should have stuck with a dating app, or that I should have listened to everyone when they told me not to fall for a straight guy.”

Bill scoffs harshly from the back of his throat, pride flinching deep down into his bones. 

“Wow. Seriously?”

Holden’s face is fixed straight ahead, his profile quivering with suppressed anger when Bill casts him a sharp glance. 

“You want to debate my sexuality?” Bill demands, his gaze shifting between the approaching light of his house and Holden’s stoic rage. “You want to make me prove it to you?”

Holden’s gaze darts from the road, apprehension surpassing the anger. His lower lip quivers.

Bill pulls into the driveway, and throws the gear shift forcefully into park. Yanking off his seatbelt, he nods towards the house. 

“You want to? Let’s go, then.” He says, shoving the door open. 

Holden’s mouth slips open as Bill climbs out of the car, and marches toward the house. He doesn’t follow until Bill is up to the front porch, unlocking the door with shaking hands. As he climbs up the steps, Bill leaves the door open behind him, and paces into the living room. His body is humming with competing urges of possessive anger, wounded pride, needy desperation, every single one of them looking for validation - for proof inside Holden’s warm, quivering body that he belongs there. 

Holden slips past the front door, and gazes at him in the low light. His eyes are gleaming, both steel and glass, but his mouth is trembling defiantly. A beautiful wreck. Bill wants to throw himself into it, watch them both shatter, watch them try to collect the pieces; the night is already far gone enough, so what’s one more boundary crossed?

He closes the space between them in a few strides and catches Holden by the cheeks. Their mouths collide, a desperate clash of panting lips, hungry tongue, biting teeth. Holden’s whimper is muffled beneath the pressure of Bill’s mouth coming down, but it quickly twists into a needy groan as he leans into the harsh caress. 

Bill pushes him up against the wall, hearing the back of Holden’s head hit with a thud. Holden only seems fueled by the ferocity, his hands tearing at Bill’s neck and chest, pushing fabric out of the way until he can rub his palm up against Bill’s swelling groin. 

Their mouths break apart with a gasp, and Holden gazes up at him with swollen lips and flaring eyes. 

“I want you to fuck me.” He whispers, his voice ragged and hoarse. He pushes a wet kiss against Bill’s lower lip, his eyes staying open as he whispers visceral need. “Fuck me so hard.”

Bill kisses him again, smothering the last of his hesitation. He lifts Holden off the ground with both hands clasped over his backside, and Holden locks his ankles against his lower back. Bill staggers down the hallway to the bedroom, finding his way through the dark to their bed where they collapse in a wrestling heap of angry, needy limbs.

They tear at each other’s clothes, shoving each garment out of the way in a hurry, in between biting kisses and heavy-handed petting. As Holden yanks on his boxers, Bill reaches over to yank the dresser drawer open and find the bottle of lube. 

He uses a generous amount to glaze Holden’s cleft before pushing a finger inside. Holden bites into his shoulder as the rough penetration quickly goes in to the knuckle again and again, working him open at a demanding pace. He doesn’t whimper or complain; in fact, the rough handling seems to only be making him more aroused as he thrusts down against Bill’s hand and curses in pleasure. Soon, he’s squirming and whispering desperately in Bill’s ear, “Hurry up. I’m ready. I want your cock.”

Bill’s head is already lost in a blur of alcohol, bruised ego, and need, and he feels himself tipping over the edge, past his frustration, as he quickly rolls on a condom. He forces himself to slow down as he pushes his cock inside, working past the lingering clench of muscle, working all the way to the hilt. 

Holden moans and arches beneath him, his expression etched with mounting pleasure. Bill feels his chest seize as he plunges inside, their bodies joining as firmly and deeply as they can. Suddenly, with Holden’s body wrapped around him and his mouth moaning just for Bill, all of his crazy, insecure conclusions look unfounded and silly. Not just stupid, but selfish and damaging. 

Bill leans over Holden’s trembling body, gathering him closer in his arms as he begins to thrust against him. A sense of relief washes over him when Holden reciprocates, wrapping both arms around his neck and clutching his knees to Bill’s ribs. Burying his face in Holden’s neck, Bill rocks against him, and tries to absorb every second of his warm, soft skin, the heat of his body cradling Bill at their most intimate points, the shudder of limbs wrapped desperately around him. They’re all alone in the dark, no strobe lights or painted faces or leering suitors; on this private stage, none of it matters. 

Some time later, they’re laying in a tangled heap of spent pleasure and boneless limbs. Holden curls against his chest while Bill’s breathing slows, the jagged hitch of his lungs pinned down by the warmth of his ear pressed close. 

Bill runs his fingertips over Holden’s shoulder, watching his pale skin glow beneath the splash of moonlight stretching through the window. His chin is tucked against his chest, hiding his face from Bill’s searching gaze, but Bill can feel the tender shudder running through him. 

He sighs, letting his fingers go stationary against Holden’s shoulder. His chest is still raw and flinching and full, bottled emotions wanting to burst free; and he knows he needs to channel them in some other way than rage or reckless, angry sex. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into the darkness. 

Holden lays still against him for a long moment before his head nestles closer. “I’m sorry, too. That was harsh of me to say … the straight guy thing.”

“I shouldn’t have overreacted at the bar. I was just-”

“I know.” Holden says, lifting his head from Bill’s chest to cast him a rueful gaze. “It’s not what you’re used to, and I should have been more sensitive to that. I know tonight was hard for you.”

“Look, I want to hear you and your friends out.” Bill says, “I just don’t know if it’s something I’ll ever enjoy.”

“Okay. I get that.” Holden says, pressing a gentle hand to his chest. “But you have to let me enjoy it. We have to keep living our lives and doing the things we like independently.”

“I know-” Bill begins, glancing away as his face grows hot. 

Holden gently catches him by the chin, turning his face back towards him. 

“Do you?” He whispers. 

Bill clenches his jaw. “Yes.”

“Just because I’m going to a gay bar doesn’t mean I want to hook up with someone. It doesn’t mean I’m going to cheat on you. But it also doesn’t mean that I’m immune to people hitting on me. I know how to say ‘no’. . . I had just hoped you trusted me enough to realize that.”

Bill nods, pressing his eyes shut for a moment before looking up at Holden’s somber gaze. 

“Do you trust me?” Holden asks, softly. “Because if you don’t, then we seriously need to rethink what we’re doing here.”

“No, I do trust you. I shouldn’t have acted like I don’t.” 

“Okay.” Holden says, leaning down to press a kiss to Bill’s mouth. He chuckles softly, melting the tension. “On another note, that was honestly some of the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Bill laughs quietly despite the knot still unraveling in his chest. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“You’ve been holding back on me.” Holden murmurs, running his fingertip along Bill’s jawline. “You were like an animal just now.”

Bill purses his lips against a smile, his face warm with giddy heat that’s quickly melting the last of his frustration. 

“Why were you holding back?” Holden says, nudging his nose against Bill’s. 

“I don’t know. I won’t anymore.”

“Good.” Holden whispers, melding the affirmation into a kiss. 

Bill wraps his arm tighter around Holden’s waist, dragging him into the slow, deep kiss with fresh appreciation. He wants to say so much - that Holden makes him want to throw aside all of his fears and inhibitions; that no matter how wounded his pride gets, he’d never want to stay angry; that he’s seen life without Holden, and he never wants to live that experience again. But maybe the apology was enough for tonight. Maybe this kiss can say all the things he can’t yet speak. Maybe in time, Holden will lead him out of the dark and into the light, and he won’t ever have a reason to be afraid again.

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

Fic Rec List (A Tag Game!)

Rules: Post links (Ao3, ff.net, etc.); specify fandom/pairing/etc; don’t answer the same fic twice - spread the appreciation; tag other people; you don’t have to answer all the questions, but leave them in the list so the next person can answer if they want.

i was tagged by @aninfinitenumberofmonkeys, who is also listed below because they’re a banging author and i love love love their work. ALSO i tried to tag the author’s tumblr where i could find it, but if i forgot or i totally fucked up and tagged you for a fic you didn’t write please let me know 😅

Fandoms mentioned are MCU, Stephen King’s It, The Umbrella Academy, Shazam!, Welcome to Night Vale

1. Favourite complete fic you’ve read this month (multiple chapters/parts): and i will not remember that i ever felt the pain by Fluffifullness @fluffifullness (It) -- it’s about the longing! it’s about grief and love and how they’re connected! it’s about the angst! but most importantly it’s about eddie 👏 getting 👏 all 👏 the 👏 hugs 👏👏👏

2. Favourite complete fic you’ve read this month (one-shot): we'll laugh and we'll cry until there's no more tears by knewwellenough @transfinnpoe (It) -- what’s better than this? coupla guys bein’ dudes, coupla dudes cryin’ and huggin’, coupla guys bein’ gay. ugh god i’m still weeping over this reunion hug, like, yeah there’s smut eventually but guys the hUG--

3. Favourite WIP you’ve read this month: hold on i still need you by QueenWithABeeThrone (It) because @viciousmaukeries is both a master of the written word and a genie specializing in granting my very specific fic wishes before i’ve even thought to wish them, so please, go read this tam lin au i’m still losing my whole mind over it

4. One fic/series you’ve read which you keep coming back to again and again:  hoping to be found by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) @eddykaspbraks (It) -- *blows a kiss in the general direction of NYC* for eddie kaspbrak getting the healing he deserves

5. Most underrated fic you’ve read this year: did you know there’s no option to sort your bookmarks by kudos wtf anyway let’s go with some by virtue fall by StarryCleric (Umbrella Academy) because WHY are all my favorite five character studies so criminally underappreciated

6. Most underrated fic you’ve read EVER: trade all my tomorrows by tombenough_and_continent (Umbrella Academy) because again, why are all my favorite five character studies so underappreciated, wtf where’s the LOVE for my sad traumatized old man assassin, huh??? where???

7. Favourite whump/angst fic of the year: Next time, hire a nanny by TheArchaeologist @ancientstone (Umbrella Academy) i am counting this as whump/angst because my dude gets real hurt in this, but tbh it’s the ACTION i love this fic for, just nonstop heart pumping adrenaline and worry for my favorite time traveling (retired) assassin and his adorable little niece, and some amazingly soft hurt/comfort at the end

8. Favourite hurt/comfort fic of the year: If Either Way's The Hard Road by altschmerzes @altschmerzes (Shazam!) -- brothers being soft! my soft spot for kids played by jack dylan grazer strikes again! ahhh! good shit!

9. Favourite fluff fic of the year: Everybody Comes A-Running by Infinite_Monkeys @aninfinitenumberofmonkeys (MCU, GotG) -- listen, i KNOW i’m biased! i know! but this is still SO SO GOOD. the image of loki falling asleep while the guardians doodle on his leg cast is a gift i never knew i needed and it’s fantastic

11. Favourite smut fic of the year: Things That Happens After Eddie Lives (It) by IfItHollers @tthael is not, strictly speaking, a “smut fic,” it’s a fix-it that just happens to have some E-rated scenes, and it would have fit fine in #4′s slot because i’ve reread the whole thing so many times, but listen, this fic’s sex scenes are like the only sex scenes i’ve ever read and liked. talk about keeping in character, man! top fucking notch! plus there’s a line in there like “eddie knows exactly what oxygen does to fire but he breathes in anyway” while richie’s going down on him and, really, that line alone gives it this position on the list SO

10. Favourite gen fic of the year: the only soul I've ever saved by valkyrisms @valkyrisms (MCU, Thor, Spider-man) -- i just had the absolute pleasure of rereading this because it’s been months and i forgot so much of it, GOD if there’s a perfect way to write the unlikely friendship of loki and peter parker, it is unequivocally this

12. Favourite fix-it fic of the year/ever: An Eye For An Eye by dgalerab @dgalerab (Umbrella Academy) because it is no secret at all that this is my favorite fic, and series, bar none. season 2 will not live up to this, i’ve already accepted it, i’m alright with it, because i can always come back and read this after, y’know?

13. Favourite crack-fic fic of the year: 

14. Favourite sick-fic this year: 

15. Favourite kid-fic this year: kith and kin by penhaligon @arthurpenhaligons (Umbrella Academy) i know i’ve flailed over this on tumblr before but, guys, c’mon, UNCLE FIVE. what else do i need to say? i still cry every time i reach five saying “i don’t want to do this anymore” even though i’ve reread this several times, i just....... five ;_;

15. Fic this year which you didn’t expect to love as much as you do: Mostly Void, Partially Stars by Infinite_Monkeys @aninfinitenumberofmonkeys (MCU, Thor, Welcome to Night Vale) because who writes an mcu night vale crossover and makes it work? oh my god how, this was so good, it’s a mark of superb writing when i actually bark laugh while reading it, like, what a concept, what execution, what a fic, take all my kudos just take em

16. Fic which convinced you to ship a pairing: 

17. Favourite AU you’ve read this year: Who You Gonna Call..? by lesbuchanan @lesbuchanan (Umbrella Academy) -- why is river consistently the most galaxy brained person on this site? i have no words but *chef’s kiss*

18. Longest fic/series you’ve read this year: Keep the Car Running (MCU, GotG) starmora! woo! literally 300k+ of starmora and i did not regret a single second of the entire week it took me to read it

19. The last fic you’ve read: all good things by Fluffifullness @fluffifullness (It) -- pleASE someone for the love of god go read this fic and come scream about it with me, it’s just. so good. so so good. the losers defeat pennywise but don’t manage to prevent all those eggs from hatching, resulting in an apocalypse au that so far is MINDBLOWINGLY good and i’m dying over here just thinking about it

20. Wildcard fic you haven’t mentioned but deserves a shout-out + why:  In Our Bones by scullyseviltwin @scullyseviltwin (It) because it made me CRY and then it made me cry AGAIN and i LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT

EDIT I WAS SUPPOSED TO TAG PEOPLE AKJHSKJFHAKJFH WHOOPS uhhh okay how bout if i tagged you as an author consider yourself tagged? yeah let’s go with that, but like, no pressure you know the drill just do it if you feel like it or if you’re like me and you’re using this as an excuse to procrastinate other things

EDIT #2 also just like. do this. if you feel like it, regardless of whether you’re tagged or not, just like........ pretend i tagged you aiight

[bauervanfiction]

Gold and Silver

[AO3] Happy Valentine’s Day! Try this rarepair, it’s my specialty!

Summary: Remember, your emotions give you power. They give you control. And they will give you freedom. No one, be they peasant or king or god, will ever fuck with you again.

When given the choice of either Prince James or the dragon, Princess Abigail chose the dragon.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Gold for silver, love for life.

Princess Abigail traded one fortune for another.

If only her father saw it that way.

“Abigail. You know the stories. They don’t end well.”

She did know, but they never made sense to her. Why did dragons kidnap princesses? What did they do with them? They certainly didn’t kill them, otherwise there would be no stories to tell.

“We both know you made the wrong decision. You’re too proud to admit it, even to me—I understand. But this...” he grabbed her hand. “You don’t have to go with her.”

Abigail sighed. “Yes, I do.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“I do.”

“And do you, Sylvia von Brandt, take Kathryn Carlisle, to—”

“Yes.”

Their friends and family chuckled at her impatience and utter shamelessness, chief among them Kathryn Carlisle herself. Seeing her bride laugh brought a smile to Sylvia’s face.

Better laughing than crying, right?

She cleared her throat.

“I mean...” she began again, once their giggles began to die, “I do.”

The mayor was the only one who kept a straight face, probably annoyed she was interrupted. When the room was quiet once more, she continued her little speech before taking a deep breath.

“You may kiss the bride.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Maleficent was prompt.

They heard her circling the castle before they ever saw her. And when she appeared before them, human, Abigail had every intention to greet her standing if not for her father forcing her to remain seated.

He stood from his throne and took a cautious step towards their guest, arm held protectively in front of his daughter.

“I offer you all my gold. My land, my kingdom, take it all. But you cannot take my child.”

“Your gold is worth nothing,” said Maleficent, undeterred. She took a bold step towards him. “But your daughter? She chose me.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

While Kathryn got started on the house’s interior, Sylvia got started on her garden.

She loved the feeling of soil in her hands, of warm sunlight on her face, and fresh air in her lungs. These were experiences she could never give up.

Growing up in the mountains, it was a lot easier to grow food than it was to wait for her parents to go into town. Neither of them particularly liked people.

One rainy day, she scooped up an earthworm and brought it inside to show Kathryn, who screamed so loud she knocked the lights right out.

Whoops.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

There was something about flying that made her ill.

Abigail enjoyed the sights nonetheless; she never would have known what her kingdom looked like from so high up.

They flew over the lush greenery of the Enchanted Forest, parting through clouds before they actually reached Maleficent’s realm and...

The Forbidden Mountain was completely barren.

Nothing would ever grow here.

Abigail held on tight when Maleficent made to land in front of her castle, all but falling off her back when they touched earth. And try as she might, she couldn’t even stand up.

Wordlessly, Maleficent carried her through the threshold.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Weekends were paradise in the Carlisle von Brandt home. When the sun was at its warmest and Sylvia found relief in her gardens, Kathryn could usually find it in the kitchen. And because she was looking at law school, she was constantly stressed.

Kathryn loved baking. And Sylvia loved her treats.

But every once in a while, Kathryn would come outside just to watch her tend to her flowers. Something about seeing her in her floppy sun hat.

“I’m just your garden-variety gay, you know?” Sylvia would say, and Kathryn would laugh every time.

”So that’s why you’re so corny!”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“What do dragons do with princesses they hide away? Stories never say.”

Maleficent chuckled. “What do you suppose I do with them?”

Abigail pursed her lips, setting down her cup. “So long as she is aware of her boundaries, I would like to think you treat her well. I assume she offers you companionship more than anything else. At the absolute worst she becomes your maid.”

“Actually, at the absolute worst, she ends up dead.” Maleficent offered a charming smile. “But that’s not going to be a problem with you, is it?”

“Like hell.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Sylvia declared, casually leaning against her front door. “You’re really something, Ms. Mayor.”

Ms. Mayor, or just Regina to friends, laughed politely as she made her way onto the porch. In one arm she had a potted orchid, and hanging off the other was a basket of pastries. She handed the basket to Sylvia, who welcomed her inside.

“I figured I’d set a good example in welcoming you ladies to the neighborhood,” said Regina, peering about the living room and the kitchen. “Is Kathryn home?”

“No. She’s studying with friends.”

“Ah.” Regina smiled. “In that case...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“I heard you’ve found yourself another royal wench to play with,” remarked the queen Regina, “Pray, what do you call this one?”

Abigail could almost hear Maleficent’s blood boiling. “Abigail. And if one more person asks why, or even implies I took her, those words will be their last.”

There was a pause.

“Jealousy isn’t your color, Your Majesty.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Mm.”

“With all due respect, Maleficent, when it comes to the lesser of two evils, you are hardly anyone’s first choice.”

“I was yours.”

“Yes. And I don’t like to share.”

Maleficent laughed. “That’s called jealousy, Regina!”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

She retired early that night for the first time in years.

“I feel ill is all,” she said after dinner. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Kathryn giggled, innocent and kind. “I bet it was Regina’s apple turnovers. We told you to pace yourself, but no.”

Sylvia smiled. For her sake. “You were right.”

Just before she could retreat, Kathryn kissed her, slow and warm.

“I’ll check on you soon; I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

In the darkness of their bedroom, when she was sure she was alone, Sylvia pulled the duvet over her head.

And wept.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some dragons hoarded treasure, others knowledge. And Maleficent’s library was enormous.

There were no labels to indicate what spells could be found in which books. Nor was there anything resembling a system through which Abigail could use to find what she needed in quick fashion.

This would take a long while, but she had plenty of time. So long as she didn’t lose hope.

She left the scrolls alone, singles and bundles alike, and made sure to put each book back in its proper place when she was done with it.

It wouldn’t do her well to rouse Maleficent’s suspicions.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It wasn’t often Kathryn consented to showering together. She just didn’t like her water half so hot.

Warm, loving hands massaged Sylvia’s back in calm, circular motions, pressing against sore spots about her neck and between her shoulders.

She heaved a sigh.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting my job.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Kathryn’s soft voice seemed almost cold.

“It’s...” Sylvia swallowed, “I want to see more of the sun.”

“And you have a plan, right?”

“I do.”

She shivered when Kathryn pressed up against her, hugging her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

“Good. Because Regina’s going to be pissed.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

My dearest Prince James,

You know little of me, and I you.

I know you were obligated, as I was, to go through with the merger, and I want you to know I do not hold it against

There are plenty of princesses who spend their whole lives hoping for a prince half so noble and kind to marry them. I am confident one will come looking for you soon enough, and when that occurs, I wish you well.

Letting me go will be of no consequence. Rest assured I am perfectly content where I am.

Sincere regards,

Princess Abigail

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Flower shops were good and anonymous.

And bursting at the seams with beauty and life.

Now more than ever Sylvia bought flowers for Kathryn. Roses, tulips, sunflowers, daffodils, daisies, lilies, hydrangeas, forget-me-nots, lavender, snapdragons, whatever sold that day. The more she brought, the more Kathryn would sigh fondly and remind her their home was a human house, not a greenhouse.

But she was free now. And she was happy.

Someday, when she could face Regina again, she’d go back.

Maybe.

On her way out one evening, there was a terrible storm.

What better flower to bring home than a rhododendron?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

One morning, Abigail awoke to Maleficent standing at the foot of her bed.

“You want to know what I do to princesses who come to my castle?” There was something of a smile trying to make itself known, but Maleficent pushed it away, adding in a commanding tone, “Get up.”

Abigail followed her to the back of the fortress. To a door covered in briar vines and moss.

“What’s in there?”

Maleficent shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Starting today, I’m going to teach you magic. Your final test is to open this door. That is why you came, is it not?”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The power was out. And so was Kathryn, car and all.

Of course her phone had no service. Fucking fantastic.

Regardless, Sylvia bundled up, lit the hearth, laid out Kathryn’s warmest clothes for when she returned, and prayed it would be soon.

She loved the rumble of a good thunderstorm. It was the cold she could do without.

She was almost asleep on the couch by the time someone pounded on the door.

“It’s about time you came home, you silly—!” But it was not her wife. “Goose...”

Sheriff Swan winced. “Judging by your reaction, Kathryn’s not here, is she?”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rose magic. Water magic. Wind magic.

Once she learned the foundations, she could mold it to suit her.

“Remember, your emotions give you power.”

There were some magics Abigail did not enjoy. Mind magic was taxing. As was her occasional foray into black magic.

“They give you control.”

Fire should have easily destroyed the briar vines, but they didn’t.

She wasn’t ready yet. She wasn’t strong enough.

“And they will give you freedom.”

Healer’s magic. That’s what she wanted. What she needed most of all.

“No one, be they peasant or king or god, will ever fuck with you again.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Kathryn Carlisle von Brandt: MISSING!

. . . [L]ast known whereabouts was at the apartment of schoolteacher Mary Margaret Blanchard, alongside fellow teachers Rosemary Reid and Yuliya Zolotova. Reportedly, the educators were helping Carlisle prep for her LSAT.

According to Sylvia von Brandt, Carlisle’s wife, it was “normal for [them] to leave home at the same time since [Sylvia] switched jobs.” As someone who worked only part-time, however, Carlisle was usually the first one home, a fact later confirmed by neighbors.

“Kathryn hates thunderstorms,” von Brandt stated emphatically, “There really was no better reason for her to have been home that night.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Sometimes, instead of feeling exhausted after lessons, Abigail was restless.

And she quickly learned Maleficent wasn’t one to deny a lady the tender service of Venus.

That night, she was gentle, but as it wore on Abigail could sense the dragon lurking about her soul.

Waiting.

When she felt especially bold, the beast was terribly exciting. But when it was her turn to please, Maleficent’s enjoyment of her was tinged with a noticeable melancholy.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet... At least, that’s what they say.”

“Did I disappoint you?”

“No,” murmured Maleficent. “You’re just different.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up.”

“Fuck... Not now, Regina.”

“I wanted to see how you were. And to—”

“Oh! Well, I’m great, you know? Yeah, my wife is missing, her friends have no idea where she could’ve gone in all the ten minutes it takes to drive home, and she still doesn’t know our mayor came onto me. I’m fucking fine!”

“Sylv. That kiss was weeks ago, and I apologized. Repeatedly. Anyway, I—”

“And just a wedding, and just a marriage—”

“Sylvia. We found her.”

“...”

“Hello?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Mills.”

“I’m not! Come to the hospital. See for yourself.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

She warmed herself with hateful thoughts, producing flames so intense she was sure her fingers would melt. But when she finally threw them with all her might and main, they disappeared before ever reaching the door.

“Again. Overthinking actively hinders magic.”

Exhausted, Abigail sighed and conjured a fainting couch. Collapsing onto it, she hardly spared a glance when Maleficent appeared beside her.

“Don’t you ever feel guilty, Maleficent?”

Maleficent stared at her for a long, long time.

“No,” she said, finally. “Guilt is a complete waste of energy.”

Abigail nodded. She could believe that.

“But remorse?”

Maleficent smiled sadly.

“Once.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“How is she?” Sylvia asked before she’d even reached Regina’s end of the hall, “Can I see her now?”

Without answering, Regina pulled her into a hug. Held her. Steadied her. Calmed her. And Sylvia let her.

Familiarity was comforting. Even if she wasn’t sure she was ready.

“She’s resting now,” Regina murmured. “Let’s take a second for you, okay?”

So they each took a seat on the bench in the hall, hand in hand, focusing on deep breathing.

“Thank you, Regina...” Sylvia whispered. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course,” nodded Regina. “And Sylv?”

Sylvia looked at her.

“I’m sorry.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“And you still love them?”

“As you love yours.”

Abigail rolled over, meeting Maleficent’s absent caresses with a tentative smile.

The time for ulterior motives was over.

For both of them.

“Am I allowed to stay? I may not be Briar Rose, or even Regina, but I do believe I’m capable of holding my own.”

Maleficent blinked as though returning from a trance. Shifting slightly, she propped her head up on her elbow.

“Now, that depends. Do you still feel guilty, dear?”

Abigail bit her lip.

She thought about it.

“No,” she said.

Maleficent smirked.

“Good girl. Now you’re learning.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The second Sylvia saw Kathryn lying there, the tears came flooding back.

She approached with the utmost caution, bracing herself in case it was all an elaborate illusion. If she so much as blinked too hard, the bed would be empty, the beeping of machines and murmurs of staff would fade away, and she would be all alone, trapped in a black void of nothingness.

Shakily, she took her wife’s hand in hers, and pressed them together.

Kathryn squeezed back, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey...” she managed to get out, smiling softly.

“Hi,” Sylvia choked out. “I’ve missed you...!”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When Maleficent succumbed to slumber in winter, the entire castle followed suit. Hibernation, she called it.

So Abigail busied herself elseways.

In keeping with her lessons, she found she could read more of what was in the library.

She forsook stairs in favor of willing herself into any which room any time she pleased.

She even went into Maleficent’s treasure chambers for curiosity’s sake.

But perhaps most daring of all, Princess Abigail opened a correspondence with Queen Briar Rose, and after a mere three days, was granted an audience with her in her chambers.

So long as she was careful.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“Honey, I said I don’t need therapy.”

“And I heard you. You can sit and pet Pongo while I talk.”

With a heavy sigh, Kathryn turned away, arms crossed and leaning back against her seat. Under normal circumstances, this would have sparked some light teasing. But normalcy was fleeting these days.

“Hey,” Sylvia continued, cautiously touching Kathryn’s arm, “I mean it; you don’t have to talk about it now. But until Emma finds your car, you’re not going to sit here, by yourself, for an hour. Just the thought scares me.”

Kathryn exhaled a shaky breath.

“It scares me too.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

There were no formalities to observe in Maleficent’s castle.

On one hand, it was liberating. But on the other, debilitating. In the little time she had to prepare, Abigail racked her brain to remember her classical training and proper etiquette.

But it was all for naught.

Queen Briar Rose greeted her by way of an attack, barely allowing Abigail enough time to perceive and evade the sharp end of a rose being thrown at her the instant her feet touched the ground.

“Good!” cried the queen, applauding heartily, “You’re quick! Oh, that’s a relief.”

“I should say so...” Abigail muttered.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Following Kathryn’s return, Sylvia altered her schedule so she only worked weekends. Effective immediately. And if Moe didn’t like that, Dr.Ink was right next door.

After the first sleepless night, she made appointments to see Hopper twice a week. Sometimes thrice.

By the time Friday rolled around, she’d had nearly a whole week to get the ball rolling for her next idea. While Rosemary and hers came to keep Kathryn company, Sylvia went to Storybrooke’s animal shelter.

“Oh, you are going to love your new home!” she cooed to her furry passenger. “Just don’t poop in Mommy’s garden, okay?”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

By the time Abigail was aware Briar Rose had given birth, several months had already passed. Congratulations were discreet; very few were invited to pay homage to the baby. And now, she understood why.

Briar Rose had been blessed with twins.

“How do we know you’re not actually Maleficent disguised?” demanded the little princess Aurora after a rather sharp curtsy.

“Don’t say her name!” cried the young prince Day from behind his mother’s skirts.

“Maleficent. Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent!”

“Stoo-ooopp!!”

Abigail laughed. “You’ll have to ask your mother,” she said, meeting Briar Rose’s gaze, “She’s the only one who can tell.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Children made Sylvia nervous.

Or maybe it was just the Reid twins.

She suspected they judged her something fierce, and she couldn’t blame them. After all, she never remembered how to say their names correctly.

Hearing Kathryn laugh from down the block meant everyone was probably outside. The twins were probably playing tag (or whatever it was kids did nowadays), and seeing her with a pet might put her in their good graces for once.

But there were no children milling about the place. Nor was Rosemary conversing with her wife.

It was Regina.

Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Abigail called on Rose most days. Even though Maleficent spent the better part of winter asleep, they didn’t dare try for Rose to return those visits.

Aurora and Day joined them sometimes—usually hiding from Tinker Bell—but not often.

As they exchanged stories of Maleficent, of her ways and habits, Rose would often adorn Abigail’s golden hair with roses from her own garden, as well as wildflowers her children picked. Each one represented one memory, one tender moment she shared with Maleficent in all their yesterdays.

And when the crowns were finished, they would burn them.

But the flowers never died.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“I can’t believe this—I can’t believe you went and adopted a dog without telling me!”

“You’re right; I’ll be sure to spoil any future surprises from here on out.”

Wiping away the unexpected, albeit excited tears, Kathryn laughed.

Sylvia smiled, running her fingers over Ajax’s curly coat. “He’s not much of a watchdog, but he’s smart, sweet, and, most importantly, calm. I figured he could help with the jitters and keep you company while I’m at work. You know, so you don’t end up stealing Pongo from Archie.”

“He’s perfect,” Kathryn whispered, pulling her into a warm hug, “Thank you.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The days Abigail didn’t visit Rose were when Her Majesty came calling. They always had tea in the fortress’s library; Regina was nicer there.

“She’s resting well, I trust?”

“I suppose so.”

“No nightmares, then?”

Abigail blinked. Did dragons dream during hibernation? “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Hm.”

After tea, Regina often engaged her in a witch’s duel. Both for leisure and for practice. Inside and out, hither and yon, elemental conjures, potions, illusions, animal summonings, improvised weaponry—anything went. Whoever caught the raven first won the match.

Regina was graceful, quick, and cunning.

But Abigail knew Diablo better than she.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Kathryn?” she called as she removed her coat.

No answer.

“Jax?”

Not even a hint of movement.

The house was dark save the faint glow of light coming from the top of the stairs.

“Babe?!”

She ran up the stairs, heart beating louder, breaths becoming heavier, and threw open the door.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Completely pitch-black nothing.

Void.

Nothing.

Emptiness.

Nothing.

Nowhere.

No one.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Cold.

Dread.

Dead.

Wait.

No.

Not.

Two large, glowing green eyes.

A wicked smile with many, many long, sharp teeth.

Disgusting.

Sylvia awoke with a start.

Again.

[09yards]

8 - When You’re Gone (days gone by - nct)

All the mystery and the magic You light up what once was tragic And I know that I will miss you when you're gone I could never have imagined All the heavens pour with passion   But I know that I will miss you when you're gone

    Johnny had been right about one thing tonight; it was indeed a family affair. What felt like just about everyone Mark was close to, was dispersed throughout Yuta's house. The parents had all congregated in the kitchen, about five too many bottles of wine left empty on the side for the number of people - the chatter and laughter rang in Mark's ears.

God, he hated being drunk. The smallest of sounds seemed to echo in his ears but at the same time it felt like he was hearing things underwater, his head was spinning and he was about six too many drinks in and he'd barely been there two hours. The air around him feels thick, muggy from too many people being crowded into the various rooms.

    Jisung had somehow managed to get out of the whole ordeal, arguing with their mum about how it would be inappropriate for someone who is (even more so than the others) underage to be surrounded by drunk people and the possibility of him therefore partaking in said underage drinking would be increased and that's not good for his health. Johnny had called him a pussy under his breath and had promptly earned a slap to his stomach from their mum and a stern "watch your language John" who then turned to Jisung (whose face was now adorning the slight pout and puppy dog eyed look - aka how to get their mum to do whatever they wanted look), her face relaxing into a gentle smile before kissing the top of his head (on her tiptoes which made her pout) and telling him to rest well and not stay up too late studying or engrossed in whatever novel he was currently working his way through. Mark stuck his tongue out on the way out the door - the kid could get away with everything, he and Johnny had dubbed it the youngest child effect. Johnny was pretty upset that he'd wasted good chocolate milk and now Yuta was going to get to drink it.

    Mark had been dancing around since he'd first arrived, back and forth between rooms in hopes of avoiding Donghyuck. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to avoid him, the younger was probably doing the exact same thing though since the lack of communication between the two since way back to Mark's birthday. Mark had spent some time pining and was okay about the whole situation now (as okay as he could be on the surface anyhow). Mark had been so busy with school - even with only being a month and a half in - he'd been spending lunches in the library, study periods with his tutor to talk about his personal statement and what felt like every second of his free time was spent pouring over his textbooks, homework and whatever else he could get his hands on. The only breath of fresh air was when he finally submitted his uni applications, nudging the whole ordeal to the back of his mind rather than playing the waiting game to see if he'd get accepted or not. He'd drifted apart from everyone in a sense but with Donghyuck it was weird. When he passed the others in the hallways, they'd spare a second to flash a smile or give a quick wave, things were normal, but with Donghyuck it felt like he purposefully averted his eyes every time, maybe Mark's mind was playing tricks on him, maybe it wasn't.

Renjun had ranted to him over facetime at three am one night about how Donghyuck seemed to squash any and all rumours quite quickly about whether or not he was gay, Heejin and him had made up somehow apparently and Renjun had seen the two of them spending time together - what for, Mark didn't know, nor did he want to. Renjun had said it was probably some sort of ploy due to Hyuck's parents. They all knew the story and they weren't the worst, but when Hyuck's older brother, Taeyong, had come out they just seemed to ignore it - they pretended like it hadn't happened and they never brought up dating around Taeyong ever again until Taeyong had gotten quite sick of it and had decided to bring his boyfriend (although he hadn't introduced him as his boyfriend, it was quite clear by the two's body language that Taeil very much was) to their annual family Christmas party. Not his proudest moment he has admitted on multiple occasions but, to Mark and the others it was quite the scandal, particularly as lovely as Donghyuck's parents were, they just seemed to not realise the number of people around them that were gay, much to the amusement of the majority of their friends. Just about everyone was gay, bisexual or pan between Mark and Johnny's friends, as well as a copious amount of people attending their school alone were part of the LGBTQ+ community and openly expressed their support of it and how the Lee's were yet to realise it no one would ever know, as well as how they've managed to live in their surprisingly accepting small town where political and social 'issues' weren't taboo. Taeyong had moved out the moment he was accepted into uni and promised that he wouldn't end their relationship for the sake of Hyuck, even if it meant the only time he spoke to his parents these days was when 'required' to at family events and the occasional birthday phone call. Mark and Donghyuck had grown distant over the last two months and Mark couldn't help but feel like it was to do with the rumours. Mark knew Donghyuck's parents wouldn't be happy about him being gay, if he was (Mark was still confused as to whether or not he'd come out to him that day) they would just pretend like it wasn't happening, make up a girl that he was supposedly dating to rely it to the family - it had happened before and it would more than likely happen again. But alas, Mark was far too drunk for him to be able to work up the emotional capacity to act like the best friend, if he could even call himself that anymore, he should be too Donghyuck.

- - - -

    "Jaehyun, please stop, I'm too drunk for this-"

"Being drunk is the perfect time young padawan! As the expert on all thing’s soulmates, please remember I have known mine since I was a mere five years of age, I am the most qualified to educate you here."

"You're probably more drunk than I am right now-"

"I probably am, okay, I definitely am but, doesn't stop me from being happy and in love and married to the best person in the world."

"You aren't married?"

"That's what you think."

"Jaehyun, what on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that just because I may not be legally married, yet, that doesn't mean I won't be anytime soon. I just need to pick a ring and then ask him but it's not like he's going to say no right? Having a soulmate, you are bound to that person for the rest of your life, that's the whole idea of marriage, is it not? Oh look, there's Doyoung, see you later Mark!" Mark was flabbergasted, apparently Jaehyun had turned into some kind of Tumblr drabble reciting robot when drunk off the dubious substance in his cup, although if you asked him he'd probably just say it's what happens when you're in love and then flash you the famous Jung smile - dimpled and gummy.

"Wait!" Even when he raised his voice himself it made his head pound, "You didn't give me your advice?"

"Oh yeah," Jaehyun could barely stand straight, gently swaying as he paused in his steps half turned to Mark, “Just confess already. The pining isn't doing you any good and there's no other way to find out if he's your soulmate or not unless he tells you he's the one who caused your tattoo. Right now, you're only hurting yourself, stop feeling guilty all the time and be a little selfish for once, not that telling someone how you feel is selfish. You'll only make yourself sick, literally, either way and yes it could end up worst case scenario but you could also end up happy. You deserve to be happy Mark, you've spent so long doing things for everyone else because you felt like you had to, do something for yourself." Mark let his weight sink to the floor, his back pressed against the cold wall of the hallway.

Maybe it's what he needed to be able to let go?

    "Mark, hey," Jungwoo turned the corner, finding Mark still cuddled up against the wall where Jaehyun had left him earlier, "I was looking for you, you disappeared on everyone."

"Jungwoo... I want to apologise again about what happened at my birthday. I was drunk, wasn't thinking straight. What I did was wrong, so wrong and I'm so sorry for it and for upsetting you and-"

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm okay? Taeyong introduced me to this older friend of his anyway, very cute, very mature so no risk of him doing any classic teenage pining. Besides, neither of us were exactly thinking straight Mark. You and Haechannie will figure things out soon enough."

"Jaehyun told me to confess, that's why I'm here, debating whether that would be easier than yeeting myself off a cliff." Mark couldn't look at Jungwoo, he still felt guilty, sure they'd both been drunk and neither were exactly hoping to start anything in the future but it felt sucky, Mark never wanted to hurt someone else and in that moment he did, whether Jungwoo was okay now or not.

"Maybe you should, get everything out in the open rather than keeping all those emotions bottled up. You never know, maybe good things will come from it."

"Thank you, Woo, I know what I did was super shitty and I really hope you know how sorry I am."

"Shut up Mark, it never happened."

"Right, it never happened."

For the first time in a while, an actual smile threatened to appear on Mark's face. "Come on, lets re-join the party! Winwin got everyone dancing, even Johnny," Jungwoo grabbed his hand to pull him up from the floor, "let’s have some fun."

    As Jungwoo and Mark joined the makeshift dance floor of Yuta's living room, more drinks were pushed into their hands as their friends whooped and cheered that they were back, all far too drunk to remember any of their actions come morning. Jaehyun and Doyoung were cooped up in a corner, speaking in hushed voices to one another, both of their eyes filled with complete adoration for one another. Lucas was twirling Yuqi, the two of them bursting into fits of giggles whenever they made eye contact, it was endearing, Mark thought. Yuta and Winwin seemed to no longer be hiding their relationship status when Sicheng was not-so-subtle, sitting on Yuta's lap, the two leaning in for an R-rated kiss that Mark swiftly looked away from. Jaemin's head was resting on Renjun's thigh as they sat down on the sofa, evidently Jaemin had drunk more than he could handle and Renjun's hands gently cascaded through the younger's hair. Mark liked seeing his friends together, it made him realise just what having one’s soulmate can do, how it can make you feel. But he couldn't help the pang in his chest at the thought, he was alone, his eyes somehow having found Donghyuck among the copious amounts of people dancing. Mark couldn't take his eyes off of him, he gravitated towards him, dancing with some girls from his class who dragged Mark to join them - pushing him towards Donghyuck.

    The younger's head snapped up at the mention of Mark's name, no longer focused on perfecting the choreography to whatever song was playing with Yeri and Irene. Before Donghyuck could escape, Mark clasped his wrist, looking at him with pleading eyes. Now or never, now or never.

Donghyuck freed himself, flashing Mark a disgusted look before walking out of the room as fast as he could without drawing attention to them, Mark close behind.

"Hyuck, wait up please!"

"Leave me alone Mark."

"Come on Hyuck, at least let me speak," Mark's shoulders slumped as he let out a deep sigh, attempting to build up his courage, now or never. "J-just let me say this and then you can scream, yell, runaway or whatever it is you want to do," Donghyuck's resistance against Mark pulling his arm again relaxed, "just, please let me speak."

"Fine. What do you so desperately have to say?" His voice was wobbly, Donghyuck was telling himself that it was because of the cold October air and not his emotions getting the better of him. Donghyuck doesn’t even remember at what point they’d made it outside – nor does he see the audience of one they’ve gathered.

"Okay, right, here we go."

"I don't have all night Mark."

"Right, sorry. Of course, I just need a second." Was the air getting thicker or was Mark just having trouble breathing?

"Here goes nothing," Mark took one last deep breath and closed his eyes, he had this speech engraved in his mind ready to use it at any moment, "I like you Hyuck. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you and I'm also fairly certain that you're my soulmate.

I know that we're young and I'm definitely dumb and you aren't even eighteen yet but, I know that I'm in love with you and I trust that the universe made us meet that day in the library because you are my soulmate. I can't imagine my life without you, I can't imagine waking up next to anyone else. I can't imagine kissing someone else, holding someone else in my arms, running my hands through their hair, listening to them hum along to the radio. It's always you, in my daydreams and my nightmares, whether I'm asleep or awake you're always by my side.

Believe me when I say I tried to stop, I tried to convince myself that you're not the one. I spent so long crying myself to sleep, begging the universe to let me stop loving you, I tried, I really, really tried... but, I'm always going to love you. I think I've known that since the day we first met and I need you to know that, I'm always going to love you. No matter what. I've imagined me saying this to you hundreds of thousands of times and I was never going to say anything but I can't keep doing this. I can't fake another smile, I can't fake like everything’s alright all of the time, I can't fake that I'm alright. I love you Donghyuck."

"Mark," Donghyuck inhaled sharply, "I don't know what you want me to say..."

"Say you feel the same, say you can feel your soulmate mark showing up, whatever," the pleading in Mark's words was clear by his breathlessness, "Hyuckie, please, I know you can feel it too."

"I'm sorry Mark, I really am," his shoulders slumped and he couldn't meet Mark's eyes, Mark's pleading gaze, "I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I don't feel the same, I'm not in love with you Mark. You're hurting someone else by doing this, please get over me and stop - I know you won't be able to handle the guilt. I can't let you hurt someone else, I can't hurt you by lying like that. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

And with that he turned away, leaving Mark behind, hiccupping in attempts to breathe while he sobbed uncontrollably. A pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling Mark into a warm chest, a gentle hand patting his head and muttering "it's okay" over and over again.

    Mark had never felt more sober than he did in that moment. Dizziness overtook him, the walls if the hallway felt like they were closing in around him, getting closer and closer, suffocating him. He sobbed and sobbed until he didn't have a single tear left to cry, his body spasming as he tried to catch his breath, hiccupping into the comfort of Johnny's arms.

Mark had never wanted to get drunk more in his life.

- - - - -

    Donghyuck is peacefully absorbed in his history textbook when his attention is snapped away from medieval medical treatments and to Jaemin quite literally plonking himself in the chair over the other side of the table to Donghyuck, letting out an exasperated sigh as he does so, backpack discarded on the floor by his feet as his eyes meet Donghyuck's - they're inquisitive and Donghyuck feels himself shrink in on himself a little, out of apprehension, fear or embarrassment, Donghyuck isn't sure.

"What happened with you and Mark?"

There was a slight bite to Jaemin's voice, no traces of any gentleness or subtly. Jaemin wasn't for softness when it came to life generally, particularly when someone’s upset, he approaches situations with the grace of a herd of elephants.

"Nothing."

Jaemin tuts, rolls his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, clearly not satisfied with Donghyuck's answer - or rather lack thereof.

"Oh, that’s not what I heard?"

Donghyuck can't tell if Jaemin drew the short straw and is the one tasked with interrogating him over the events of the weekend or if he's genuinely doing it for himself. Maybe Mark is keeping quiet about the events of that night, however even with how good the two are at avoiding one another it is clear Mark hasn't been in school the last few days, they aren't that good at not having crossed paths remotely once. Donghyuck couldn't help the pang of guilt. Donghyuck also knows that Jaemin isn't giving up, he's tapping his fingers against the desk as if he's hoping that'll prompt Donghyuck to talk. Jaemin is nonchalant about most things in life (aside from anything Renjun related), yet he doesn't back down and is evidently undaunted when it comes to getting what he wants.

"Well, nothing happened."

"Bullshit." Jaemin counters, without missing a beat.

Donghyuck is taken back by the harshness of his voice. Honestly, Donghyuck thought they would drag this out for longer, more like he was hoping he could keep up his charade of 'nothing happened' for longer, staying in his little bubble where he could pretend like everything was okay - like that night hadn't happened and he hadn't broken his best friends heart. Jaemin was the type to bug you to just the right level of being ridiculously annoying to get what he wanted out of you - driving you to insanity bit by bit was more his style unlike the current look of utter despair lacing his usually kind features.

"That's utter bullshit and you know it. Whatever fantasy charade you're keeping up by pretending everything’s okay is ending right now. You keep sighing in lessons, I can practically feel the anguish radiating off of you from the other side of town and here you are straight up lying to my face and just about everyone else, including yourself."

"Why do you care so much?" Hyuck didn't mean to sound so cold, it was just a second-nature defence mechanism at this point as well as being caught off-guard by Jaemin's sudden outburst.

Jaemin looks at him again, staring dead into Hyuck's eyes like he's searching for Donghyuck's last remaining brain cell, jokes on him though because it's not there. "Because Haechannie, I actually care about you and want to make sure you're okay as well as Mark. The tension between you two is downright depressing and I thought all the melodrama ended when Renjun and I got together but clearly, I was wrong, the two of you are so much worse. Both with permanent pouts on their faces, avoiding talking about whatever happened so no one can do anything to help which again, is just," Jaemin let out some disgruntled sound in lieu of an adjective but laced with the same disgust he was attempting to convey, "you see? Everyone has been here before, we're not all Jaehyun and Doyoung, you're more like Johnny and Ten and the utter mess that was the start of their best-friends-to-boyfriends transition. We all care about you; we all want to make sure that you're coping and not making yourself sick." Jaemin's now looking at him with one eyebrow raised as if Donghyuck's now supposed to magically understand whatever Jaemin's word vomit was actually implying.

Donghyuck lets his eyes wander over Jaemin's appearance, his hand griping his hair in anticipation of Hyuck's reply, pupils blown, wide and gazing at Donghyuck's face for any hint of emotion, looking slightly manic. Donghyuck evaluates his current position and with a deep breath he feels calmer, his muscles have relaxed, a smirk graces his face and-

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask, how are Johnny and Ten?"

6 NEW MESSAGES FROM RENJUN

I don't know what you did but you broke Jaemin

I've been trying to get him to shut up for years and you did it in less than half an hour

teach me your ways

he hasn't said anything since he got back, he's just sat there staring out the window with his mouth hanging open

Jisung and Chenle are seeing how many blueberries they can get in his mouth until he snaps out of it

they're up to nine

let me know how many they get up too

and tell Jaemin I'm sorry and that I'll

talk when I'm ready.

Donghyuck smiles, its only small but it’s his first genuine smile in a while.

- - - - -

     The rain is bouncing off the ground as he walks home, splashing his ankles and soaking the ends of his jeans. The temperature seems to have dropped by a million degrees since this morning and he's wishing he checked the weather app and put a warmer coat on. He's at the point where the harsh October air feels like it’s getting in his bones, just about every inch of him is freezing and just when he thinks things can't get any worse, as he turns the corner to his house he's met by a tall figure sat on the steps leading up to his door.

The rain is the last thing on his mind as he lets his umbrella drop to his side, tilting his head as if that would help him get a better look at the boy that's slouched over, flicking his phone between his hands.

Upon hearing Donghyuck let out a pathetic attempt at a cough in hopes of gaining the others attention, the mop of blonde hair moves until Hyuck is met with a heart-warming, lopsided smile he could recognise anywhere.

"Hey, Haechannie."

"Hello, what can I help you with?"

"I think you know why I'm here."

[queenofthecommunistcannibals]

@yikes-trademarked

i mean yeah, the post has nothing to do with it just comes across as a bit of a slap in the face to people who are genuinely oppressed in a modern day society. how are asexuals ‘neglected’ and ‘isolated’? so most people experience sexual attraction and you don’t, whoop de doo. nobody actually cares if you do or don’t experience sexual attraction. if you could please give me an actual, real life, not someone-calling-you-a-plant-online example of asexual discrimination then i’ll take back my words

___

@yikes-trademarked I super love how instead of apologizing you are doubling down. Okay. I'll give you examples. Here are some general prejudices that affect aro and ace people. They aren't in any real order.

•Until the DSM V asexuality was considered a mental illness. Despite the fact that now we are "allowed" to "identify" as asexual HSDD (Hypoactive sexual desire disorder) is STILL considered a disorder. So instead of trying to help a person accept themselves as asexual allosexual (nonace) doctors will try to "fix" someone if they want to. Asexuality is still seen as something to be cured. It is still a dysfunction in their eyes, they just hide their prejudice a little better.

•Asexuals have been harrassed and raped in an attempt to fix them. Asexuals and aromantics are often seen as a "challenge" to be harassed into affection.

•Mainstream Christianity discriminates against asexuals as they do other queer identities. Here is one quote from a document called "Asexuality and Christianity" produced for Asexual Awareness Week (the fact that we get "awareness" rather than "pride" ain't great either)

"While celibacy is officially considered a good stance in religion, declaring oneself disinterested in sex is often met with disapproval. Asexuals have been told that they are rejecting God's gift of sexuality, that they are just as bad as homosexuals because they are not 'normal'...or people decide to pray to God for them to be fixed or for the Almighty to send the right person for them to fall in love with."

Or from the horse's mouth "Question: What do you call a person who is asexual? Answer: Not a person. Asexual people do not exist. Sexuality is a gift from God and thus a fundamental part of our human identity. Those who repress their sexuality are not living as God created them to be: fully alive and well." This was written by two Jesuit priests David Nantais and Scott Opperman. In other religions this is also often true. I know more about Christianity personally but I know similar doctrines exist in Islam and Orthodox Judaism. Not to mention the notion that marriage is the only acceptable option in these religions (unless you are Catholic clergy) and children are a necessity. Hell, according to the conservative traditional gender roles of these religions even an otherwise gender conforming aro/ace doesn't fit (not marrying, no kids, no family, all that).

•Dehumanization from all sides. We are told to be human is to love and that love is nearly always put in romantic or sexual context. Indeed NOT being capable of or experiencing romantic or sexual love is often used as shorthand for someone being a bad person (As Dexter [from Dexter], for example, becomes more sympathetic he develops the ability to feel sexual/romantic love. Robots in fiction can be asexual and aromantic but only if you want to show them as apart from humanity. Once you want to make it clear they have a soul they have to experience some kind of romantic urge or longing. Like Data from Star Trek) An article in Psychology Today by Dr. Gordon Hodson Ph.D. (who specializes in studying dehumanization) postulates (with a study to back it up) that asexuals are the most dehumanized sexual minority.

•On the specifically romantic asexual front in many places do not consider a marriage valid until it has been consumated.

•In media in which asexuality and aromanticism are not proof of evil they are judged to be not real. Here is one of if not our first actual representation in media. In the film Nymphomaniac the SELF-PROCLAIMED asexual character turns out to be a rapist who the protagonist murders in what is supposed to be a "woo! You go girl!" moment. AT BEST this says asexuals aren't real. We're just sexually repressed misanthropes. It might also imply that asexuals are base animals who are waiting to strike. THAT IS ONE OF THE FEW TIMES THE WORD ASEXUAL IS EVEN USED IN MAINSTREAM FILM! I cannot think of a single other.

•We are erased constantly in real life and in media. Here are two examples of active erasure, Jughead Jones (canonly aro/ace in the comics and coded as such since day one) was straight-washed for Riverdale. You may say "oh maybe they didn't know" (which is bullshit) then consider example two: Sherlock Holmes. Holmes (who I adore) has long been one of the few characters that has been "allowed" to aro/aces, but when the creators of BBC's Sherlock were explicitly asked if he was aro/ace they said he absolutely wasn't.

This is part of what I am talking about. We are not allowed to exist. We are invisible.

•Asexuals and aromantics are somehow toxic in our mere existence. We make kids think it is okay to be like us and are poisoning their young minds. We hate sex and thus are against the sex positivity movement.

•"Virgin" is an insult and we are treated as constant children. Somehow we have failed to grow up and cannot be treated as adults.

•And here is what I was really talking about SOCIETY IS NOT MADE FOR US! CULTURE IS NOT CONDUSIVE TO OUR EXISTENCES! I didn't know asexuality was an option until I was about 24. And before that I, like many aro/ace people, put myself in a lot of situations and relationships to "fix" myself. To make myself normal. My first and only sexual encounter was one of the things that sent me spiralling into a serious depression. I didn't know that it was okay to not be interested and to say "no.". So I said "okay" because I thought it was what I had to do to be a normal teenager. I don't know if I ever shared that online before so congrats you got me so mad I revisited my personal trauma. From childhood we are told falling in love is the ultimate reward. As teens we are told we gotta get laaaaaid. As adults not being involved in a sexual/romantic (often indistinguishable) relationship is WEIRD and TROUBLING. I have been told by people who don't know I am asexual that asexual people are "too weird" or even "creepy." The idea that someone might not be capable of romantic love sets off people's red flags that said aromantic might be crazy.

•We are surrounded by sex and romance constantly. Constantly. It is inescapable. In your real life I want you to pay attention to romantic or sexual imagry and storylines around you. There is no break. No alternative. This is what I mean by "invisible at best."

•Also, we are denied a history. It is very hard to prove absence but often sexless figures are immediately dubbed to be gay/lesbian because of their lack of interest in "appropriate" gender. Forgetting entirely that asexuality and aromanticism are options. Then when the question is raised they maybe a figure WAS aro and/or ace we are told that we are """"stealing"""" history. There is like one person in history we are allowed: Nikola Tesla. I love him very much, but he also fits the bill as a weirdo asexual. Because anyone who was the least bit acceptable to society must be allosexual. An example in reverse, Queen Elizabeth I, Britain's most beloved monarch, who never married, never was romantically or sexually involved with anyone (aside from being assaulted as a teenager), and was in her era very famously THE VIRGIN QUEEN who used her virginity as part of her persona to great affect. She is not considered asexual or aromantic and never has been. I have seen a biographer bend over backwards to get away from that accusation including using an incident where an elderly Elizabeth flashed a dignitary to make him uncomfortable as proof that she was allo. We can't have this awesome historical figure be one of those creeps right?!

•i am not even going into the history of how "sexlessness" was historically treated, especially in women. Let me just say that "spinsterism" was considered a danger to children and young women.

•NOTICE I WENT THIS WHOLE POST WITHOUT MENTIONING ASSHOLES WHO USE THE DISK HORSE AND BAR US FROM QUEER CIRCLES EVEN THOUGH SOME STUDIES FIND ASEXUALS HAVE LOWER SELF ESTEEM THAN ANY OTHER QUEER GROUP AND WOULD REALLY BENEFIT FROM A COMMUNITY!! THIS POST IS ENTIRELY EXAMPLES OF NON ONLINE PEOPLE BECAUSE SOMEHOW YOUR CONSTANT ABUSE OR REFUSAL TO RECOGNIZE ABUSE IS A-OKAY BECAUSE IT IS PART OF "THE DEBATE" BECAUSE SOMEHOW OUR EXISTENCE IS ACCEPTABLE DEBATE!

These are just some examples. People are free to add more but I am tired. If you want links I will dig them up.

Sincerely,

Fuck you.

I apologize for the "fuck you" but the exclusionist attitude is so disheartening. It is bad for not only aros and aces but also the queer community in general. We should be in this together! Fighting for one another side by side! We should be there for each other for hardships and for celebrations. I think it is vital that exclusionists really examine what and who they are actually fighting against.

[jeparlelibremente]

Demian (Hesse)

“There was the world of my parents’ house, or rather, it was even more circumscribed and embraced only by my parents themselves. This world was familiar to me in almost every aspect - it meant mother and father, love and severity, model behaviour and school...”

“The other world, however, also began in the middle of our own house and was completely different; it smelt different, spoke a different language, made different claims and promises. This second world was peopled with servant girls and workmen, ghost stories and scandalous rumours, a gay tide of monstrous, intriguing, frightful, mysterious things; it included the slaughter house and the prison, drunken and scolding women, cows in labour, foundered horses, tales of housebreaking, murder and suicide...”

Spoiler alert for the book in question

The dichotomy of Hesse’s narrator runs through the novel with singular accuracy; we are reminded, again and again of these two worlds that exist only as his own creation - and this is important: the problem is philosophical, existential. Hesse virtually gives this up in the prologue chapter, at any rate - analysis and interpretation not even necessary. But it’s crucial to bear this in mind, because I wanted to talk about why this theme is recurring in Hesse’s work; his books are populated with narrators plagued by internal crisis, who endure an entire lifetime of misery before eventual catharsis and denouement. “Misery” here may imply some tone, but it would be hard to classify them as happy or unhappy, they seem to exist only to deliver a kind of weapons grade ideology of psychoanalytic reflection right into the mind of the reader. And I would be hard pressed to name another writer who can peel back the layers of the human psyche as easily as Hesse. The Nobel Prize in literature has at times been controversial, but few would doubt the place of Hesse in the pantheon of the Western Canon. How many authors have even remotely tried, successfully, to explain the meaning of life? Siddartha isn’t even parable or metaphor, synecdoche or analogy; it is the eponymous character embarking on a quest to determine the meaning of life. And just like Sinclair in Demian, the tale is driven by an existential thirst: something is wrong, this is not enough, there must be more. More what?

In 1930 Freud published Civilisation and Its Discontents and began to tackle a problem that must have taken root in his mind even as he formed the early theories of psychoanalysis: the drives of the id are fundamentally incompatible with the principles of a peaceful civilisation - how does the ego mediate between the id and the super-ego? It’s one of the most unfortunate paradoxes of our species that as math enables us to connect more broadly and more rapidly, many of us are losing the ability connect on any deeply intimate emotional level; we marry the wrong spouses out of anxiety of loneliness, we surround ourselves with acquaintances but struggle to make ourselves understood. We’re screaming in a vacuum and nobody can hear. We suffocate. We suffer needlessly. We turn to Tinder and see profiles of “ENTJ” replacing dialogue and passionate conversation. Don’t get me wrong; online dating profiles only give you so much resolution to work with, and you’re going to need to write something - but so few people seem ever able to progress beyond this point. They attach themselves to someone, anyone, simply because they are there. There may be little attraction, shared interests, chemistry, humour - but - as an object, an abstraction, an idea - this person will do. We have increasing divorce rates and more pictures of our kids and failed relationships on Facebook and Instagram then ever before. We didn’t even have Facebook and Instagram before. People reflexively marry in order to post the relevant pictures to the relevant social media sites and tick the relevant boxes. Then what? The prognosis is poor; misery begets misery, and our children are learning unconsciously to mimic this behaviour. Disaster. And who is to blame for all of this?

Everyone at some point in their lives has to kill their parents. Youthful teenage rebellion is a psychologically fulfilling necessity. You need to individuate - the truth is you’re going to be carrying a lot of baggage (negative connotation not necessarily implied) and you will need to take responsibility for this. Understanding oneself is an extraordinarily difficult thing to do - by the time we have the cognitive faculties to do so, our impulses and instincts, attachments and transferences are so keenly developed that un-rooting them takes considered effort - I know all too well how extremely difficult this process is. Putting your finger on some unconscious instinct is like trying to thread a needle in the dark. Exhausting. Sleep, repeat. People are who are treated really badly by their parents tend to develop problematical personalities; borderline personality disorder has only increased in diagnostic rate; and it is only a description of behaviour, not even a real diagnosis with somatic malfunction to point to! Narcissism is even worse: modern psychiatry has very little to say about our increasing divorce rates and failed relationships. Why, after five years of marriage do you want to stab your husband in the face when he laughs in just that particular way? Take solace: the problem is not your husband, the problem is you. Or perhaps the problem is both of you. Either way, this is not the person you were supposed to spend your life with. People say monogamy is unnatural, but in truth this is an intellectualisation with one goal: to avoid making any concrete decisions. If you don’t make a choice with consequences then what have you risked? And in the perverse interpretation of narcissism, what does your partner choice say about you? The alternative is to frantically pick someone, anyone, and run with it. If it doesn’t work out (it won’t) you can always un-friend them and un-tag all your photos together. It is this invisible fourth wall that is causing your frustrations. Your inability to meld to another persons well-being. I am not anti-social media, I am anti-you not understanding why you repeat the same patterns over and over in despair.

“I was glad my father upbraided me about my muddy shoes. It side-stepped the issue, the graver sin passed unnoticed and I got away with a reproach which I secretly transferred to the other affair. In so doing, a strange new feeling lit up inside me, an unpleasant, ruthless feeling, full of barbs - I felt superior to my father!”

Sinclair knows from the beginning that something is wrong; the opening passages of this essay are taken from Chapter Start. I feel like it’s low hanging-fruit to look at Sinclair’s remarks about his father and then look at Freud and back again; and besides, his mum tries to comfort him after the ordeal with Franz Komer begins, and Sinclair doesn’t really display any Oedipal tendencies -  his refusal to eat the chocolate she brings can be seen as a pattern of positioning himself to move away from his parents. Max Demians’ initial appearance is a convenient way to Deus Ex Machina dear old Franz out of the picture, but by this point it is already too late: Sinclair has tasted the forbidden fruit of knowledge (that Franz Kromer can so easily trick Sinclair should not be lost on the reader: Sinclair’s naivety shines through) Whoops. Also, this is... kind of the titular character. He wasn’t about to slink away. Sinclair and Demian hang out, they talk about stuff in a way that probably only Nietszche would find amusing. Sinclair is semi-infatuated, retreats back to the safety of his parents and sisters (take note that he has no brother, yet attends boys’ schools) and goes back to study. He learns about interpretation, and begins to think deeply about the character of a man. He sympathises with Cain, and not Abel. This is important: it is the first time his intellect has demonstrated the ability to abstract, it lets him reason with symbols: semiotics is the basis for metaphor. “You mean the mark isn’t a literal mark?” Demian says some edgy stuff with one common theme: be true to thyself.

Several years and puberty later, and cue boarding school. Sinclair is going out and getting wasted, his talk is cynical. He is deeply, deeply alone. He knows all the right moves to make socially, but he connects with no one. Grades are bad, and his old friends are trying to distance themselves from him. That’s ok, he’s made a lot of new ones - that he feels nothing for. Uh oh. For a book written in 1919, this is starting to look a lot like... us.

Part 2 soon.

[aion-rsa]

The Weird History of Nightmare on Elm Street Comics

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Watch Freddy Krueger kill his way through several different companies in our weird history of Nightmare on Elm Street comics.

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As a concept, the A Nightmare on Elm Street franchise is something I both love and hate at the same time. On one hand, it’s a killer idea with a charismatic villain, awesome set pieces, dark humor, and over-the-top violence. On the other hand, it’s a completely broken idea. The fact that it’s a franchise makes it completely hollow. As great a villain as Freddy can be – and it says a lot that a child murderer was somehow celebrated as an '80s icon – he inherently breaks the story.

Freddy Krueger has what I’d call, for the lack of a better term, “bullshit invulnerability.” See, every Nightmare on Elm Street movie is based on the idea of him being this unstoppable boogeyman that our cast has to survive. The heroes of each story have to struggle to stop him in some way and destroy him. But you can’t destroy him because then how can you do a sequel? So it’s pointless. They’ll come up with some crazy way to stop him, do it, then the final scene will say, “Whoops, that didn’t work, I guess! See you next year!”

Freddy is so ill-defined and relentless that even the first movie is kind of ruined by the final minutes. When I decided to read through every Elm Street comic book, I knew it had that nagging, jagged puzzle piece in the way of giving us actual decent storytelling. But there are still a lot of interesting ideas thrown around in all the various publishers where Freddy had called home.

Much like his rival Jason Voorhees (who has his own weird history on the printed page, which we explored here), Freddy was sort of late to the party when it came to comics. By the time Marvel got the chance to make Nightmare on Elm Street comics in 1989, they were in the middle of releasing A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child. So Freddymania was in full swing.

Freddy Krueger’s A Nightmare on Elm Street lasted only two issues, released as black and white, magazine-sized comics. The great Steve Gerber (co-creator of Howard the Duck, among others) wrote it while Rich Buckler and Tony DeZuniga took care of the art. It’s a good-looking book and darker than you’d usually find in late-80s Marvel. Too dark, actually. The book was selling really well, but there were enough complaints from angry parents to shut it down, robbing us of a Peter David-penned Freddy story.

Rather than focus on a group of teenagers, it focuses mainly on two people. Allison is a girl who, like many children, is being haunted by Freddy every time she sleeps. The story begins with her body being found in critical condition with her parents being blamed for the crime. She’s still able to put up enough of a fight against Freddy to not die and it becomes apparent that Freddy’s interest in her is more than just another piece of meat to torture. There’s something special about her.

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Enter Dr. Juliann Quinn, a woman who has been studying Freddy as well as how to control your dreams so you can better evade him. She comes to help Allison and discovers that years ago, Allison stumbled onto the same ability to enter the dreams of others like Freddy did. That’s why Freddy is after her: he sees Allison as a threat.

The thing that sticks out to me is how much fun it has with the lore when the movies themselves haven’t fleshed them out all that much by this point outside of the stuff about his mother. Remember, this came out before Freddy’s Dead, which spelled out Freddy’s backstory and how he came into power. Freddy Krueger’s A Nightmare on Elm Street is Steve Gerber’s vision on how Freddy came to be and while it isn’t too different, it’s certainly better written.

There are two things that really make it great. First is the fact that the magic of his abilities isn’t quite explained, but there’s just enough for us to understand without ruining the mystique. Second, for a comic that came out only a short while after Watchmen, it’s easy to see similarity between Freddy’s upbringing and Rorschach’s. It almost spells it out that Freddy is what would’ve happened if Rorschach’s experiences led to him becoming the dog-owning child-killer that drove him off the deep end instead of a crazed vigilante.

There’s also a bit that suggests that Freddy isn’t alone. There’s a whole community of freakish dream demons, only Freddy appears to be the most evil and proactive among them.

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The Marvel Elm Street run is enough of a story to stand on its own, but it does leave you wanting more based on how abrupt the ending is.

In 1991, the publisher Innovation took on the franchise and released a short-lived ongoing and two miniseries, all written by Andy Mangels. Nightmares on Elm Street (now that I think of it, they should’ve gone to plural with the title years ago) lasted for six issues with two story arcs. The first of which has art by Tony Harris, which is at times stunning.

It has to do with Cybil, a woman who studies Jack the Ripper and has been having nightmares about a guy who’s similar to Jack but with a burned face. One of the dreams also leads to her stumbling across the house of her old college roommates Nancy Thompson. She investigates and discovers that Nancy’s died years ago. She gets in touch with her other roommate Priscilla (whose entire panel-time in the comic is about reminding us how gay she is) and A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors survivor Neil Gordon. Soon it’s discovered that although Nancy died, she was reborn as kind of the Anti-Freddy. If Freddy is a dream demon, then she’s a dream angel, only she’s too young and inexperienced to stand up to him.

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The highlight is Freddy killing Cybil’s husband with a printing press. As the guy gets chopped up from falling into the machinery, it spits out bloody newspapers with his death as the headline.

But like I said, some stuff doesn’t work. Being an Elm Street story, we need people to fall asleep for the sake of moving the plot along. That leads to a moment where Cybil’s on the phone, sitting on the couch, and she ends up standing up so fast that she passes out and enters the Dream World by accident. Um...sure, I guess.

Then there’s the twist ending, which is complete nonsense. More than your usual Elm Street ending. It’s this scene that’s supposed to be shocking and clever, but all I can do is scratch my head and wonder, “Wait, what?”

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The remainder of the series is penciled by Patrick Rolo and decides to play with the cast of the old movies some more. It’s five years after the events of A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child and survivor Alice and her son Jacob revisit Springwood to meet up with fellow survivor Yvonne because of the recent death of Alice’s father. With Jacob – who can read minds – being around, Freddy tries to butter him up and convince him to help him out. Also involved is Neil Gordon, reduced to a coma due to the previous story arc.

There’s a wild card introduced who brings some life into an otherwise lifeless cast named Devonne. She is basically Freddy’s agent in the waking world, helping him out of desperation. When she was a child, she burned down her home to kill her abusive father, but her mother died as well and Devonne’s been broken since. Not only is the incident the only thing she dreams of, but when she talks to people in real life, all she sees is them as skinless, much like how she last saw her mother. She figures that if she kills people for Freddy, Freddy will grant her at least one night of peaceful dreaming.

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But we know better.

Freddy ultimately wants to take over Jacob’s body so he can exist in the real world and while the plot is kind of weak at points, Mangels does scratch the surface of what’s a really intriguing idea that finally gives Freddy some much-needed stakes.

While the comic barely goes into it, Mangels suggests Freddy’s logical conclusion as a monster and how his reign of terror is his own undoing. Mangels establishes that Freddy’s nightmare rampages are localized to Springwood and only Springwood. He has no other jurisdiction. If he kills enough people and enough people move away, what does that mean for him? Granted, Freddy’s Dead kind of sidesteps this whole idea, but it has enough pepper to it that it’ll get used down the line in future incarnations of Freddy comics.

In an exercise in doing as many callbacks to the previous movies as possible, it’s also established that all of Freddy’s victims are stuck in his world as tortured souls unable to escape into the true afterlife. This allows appearances from the likes of the Dream Warriors, Nancy’s cop father, and Jacob’s father Dan, but even if they’re all good people, they’re still desperate to escape Freddy’s eternal torment and will do just about anything to help him.

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The whole thing just barely holds together and the ending is also really weird. It’s an actual happy ending, but even for an Elm Street plot device, it’s really odd.

Mangels would then do the adaptation for Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare with art by Mike Witherby and Robb Phipps. Shockingly, it’s the only Elm Street movie to get its own comic. I’ll admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the movie, but I don’t remember there being any big differences. Well, except one thing.

The movies around this time got hit hard by the MPAA and had to cut out a lot of gore to pass muster. This is a comic from a company that gives no damns about the Comics Code Authority. So you don’t have to worry about censorship here. When Freddy makes the deaf kid’s head explode, it isn’t just a balloon popping. It’s a goddamn exploding head!

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Cool thing about the three-issue mini is that there are two versions of the final issue. To go with the movie’s gratuitous use of 3D, you could buy an issue that’s mostly in 3D...albeit without color. Still, that’s a cool gimmick.

Mangels would close out the Innovation run with A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Beginning with Dan and David Day on art. Considering they just made a big stink about Freddy being gone for reals this time (yeah, right), Mangels had to rein in the Freddy aspect. The miniseries focuses on Maggie, daughter of Freddy and hero of Freddy’s Dead. She keeps having nightmares about becoming like her father and feels the need to visit Springwood to get answers. Fellow survivor Tracy goes with her.

Storywise, not much seems to happen. It’s mostly Maggie having visions of Freddy’s origin. Seeing him kill people, watching his ill-fated trial unfold, standing helplessly as he’s lynched, etc. The only interesting part is how it goes back to young Freddy killing his foster father (Alice Cooper, you may recall) and that was some kind of sacrifice to the dream demon sperm creatures from Freddy’s Dead. Maggie and Tracy unearth the corpse and it releases some kind of magical energy that causes the house to collapse.

The second issue ends with Maggie visiting the boiler room where Freddy originally died and then vanishing. All that’s left for Tracy to find is Freddy’s hat and echoing laughter. A neat cliffhanger that simply wouldn’t be resolved.

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Innovation went out of business. Shucks. Mangels did have the script for the final issue online for a bit, but it’s long since fallen into the pits of the cyberspace abyss.

A year later, Freddy would make a minor comic appearance as Topps Comics did a three-issue take on Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday. Said movie is mainly remembered for the final scene that hints on the big money throwdown between horror icons.

Freddy remained quiet for over a decade. It’s not like he had much going on. New Nightmare didn’t really seem comic-friendly in its meta movie design and Freddy vs. Jason was stuck in developmental Hell. Shockingly, even when they DID get around to making the movie in 2003, there were still no comics to capitalize.

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It took Avatar Press to finally break the silence in 2005. They started with a one-shot simply called A Nightmare on Elm Street, put together by Brian Pulido and Juan Jose Ryp. Being an Avatar Press book, that means you have a lot of unsavory gore and unattractive drawings that are supposed to be attractive to look forward to. Seriously, it’s like nearly every female in an Avatar Press book has to wear high thong straps and a halter top.

Though it is neat that we have confirmation that Freddy and Leatherface apparently coexist in the same continuity. This continuity, at least.

The Avatar run goes with the status quo introduced in Freddy vs. Jason. Sort of. The local government wants to keep him under wraps so that teens won’t be terrorized by him. I thought the concept was done really well in the movie. On one hand, it worked. It actually cut Freddy off at the knees and made him too weak to do any damage whatsoever, hence the need for Jason. At the same time, there were still the moral implications of what Springwood was doing and the question of the ends justifying the means. You feel for the teens involved, but you also know that they’re doing horrific damage by unraveling the conspiracy.

It makes no sense here because Freddy is still able to do his thing. He’s just as capable of committing dream murder as ever, so there’s no point to the conspiracy. He isn’t underpowered or anything like that. He’s still offing kids, only they now have Men in Black guys on their backs to silence them. For what reason?! Their big plan isn’t doing a damn thing! There is no house of cards to knock over!

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Anyway, this one-shot is just about teens being killed while the government conspiracy is happening around them. Just nihilistic, violent, and pointless, like much of Avatar’s licensed comics.

The same creative team then did a three-issue miniseries called A Nightmare on Elm Street: Paranoid. Due to delays, it took about seven months for the whole thing to finish. The plot is a follow-up to the previous story where we get a lot of, “You can’t talk about Freddy or people will die!” while people are fucking dying regardless.

There are two parts here that are really good, though. First is how Freddy wants to spread the message that he’s out there and decides to use a kid named Mike as his megaphone to the world. Mike’s dozing off at a football game and Freddy casually meets up with him, asking for confirmation that Mike’s a hemophiliac. A confused Mike says he is, so Freddy pokes him with his finger and Mike explodes in a fountain of gore in the stands, leaving a message.

But it’s the ending that’s so close to being brilliant. The main character Claire reads up on Freddy’s so-called defeats from over the years and while nothing’s really worked in the long run, she’s inspired by the attempts to drag him into reality. Sure, making him physical and killing him hasn’t put him at a permanent end, but she knows how to use it.

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She draws him into the real world, but makes sure it’s in front of a pep rally. The entire high school is there and she and her boyfriend are armed and ready. Claire unloads on Freddy while telling everyone what a joke he ultimately is, successfully dressing him down with insults. He’s a gigantic, pathetic loser. Seeing him so vulnerable works its magic and everyone in the building is bonded in their belief that Freddy is nothing to be afraid of.

Freddy loses control of the souls he’s collected and his victims start to tear him apart. This could have been the best ending. Let me explain why with a little tangent.

Back in the early 90s, Peter Jackson had a movie screenplay for an intended sixth installment called A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Lover. It was about Freddy being deemed such a worthless joke that teenagers would go to sleep for the sake of finding him in the Dream World and kicking the shit out of him for laughs. Without anyone fearing him, Freddy is in a Clockwork Orange situation where he’s at the mercy of anyone and everyone. Then he eventually regains his mojo and builds a body count to get some revenge.

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It sounds completely awesome and of course they went with Freddy’s Dead instead. Though to be fair, Freddy’s Dead was about offing him "forever" while Dream Lover was about revitalizing the franchise.

So anyway, in a better world, they would have made a comic adaptation of Dream Lover as a follow-up. This whole climax with Claire exposing Freddy in front of all the other teens would’ve been the prime setup for how he becomes a dumpy punching bag.

And instead we get the, “LOL Freddy wins!” ending. Fantastic.

On another note, Juan Jose Ryp has some issues with his art. More than the usual Avatar issues. It’s like he glossed over the script at times. During the pep rally scene, it’s mentioned multiple times that Claire and her boyfriend are armed with shotguns when they most definitely carry handguns in every panel. Or there’s this bit.

Now, I don’t want to be THAT GUY, but...does she really got back? She’s got the ass of someone who sells propane and propane accessories.

A Nightmare on Elm Street: Fearbook finishes off the Avatar Press run, brought to us by Brian Pulido and Dheeraj Verma. This one is actually a lot of fun and plays with the Freddy concept to bring us something unique and original. It even begins with a rather funny fake-out where a student falls asleep during class and the infamous Freddy song is overheard as if she's about to meet her doom.

As it turns out, things are going pretty well in Springwood. Hypnocil, the drug that prevents you from dreaming, is given out all over. Everyone is now immune to Freddy’s wrath and it’s driving him mad.

Enter a gang of thugs driving through the area, completely ignorant to Freddy's existence. They rob a drug store and things get violent fast. When it becomes a hostage situation and one of the hostages starts drugging the killers with sleeping pills, it translates into a pretty neat revenge story.

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We’re so used to the constant compassion and helpless panic in these stories that it’s outright jarring to see someone vindictively watch over a sleeping person, knowing that Freddy’s about to have his way with them.

Just as Avatar Press said goodbye to Elm Street, Wildstorm went to work with eight issues of A Nightmare on Elm Street. Chuck Dixon and Kevin West are the creative team for the series, though Joel Gomez fills in on the art in the fourth issue.

The first three issues is a story called “Freddy’s War,” about a girl named Jade. She and her family just moved in to Springwood after years of constantly moving due to her father’s military status. We quickly jump in to action as her brother is killed and Jade knows she’s next. In a breath of fresh air, her open-minded father is totally willing to hear her out on this whole dream demon situation. It’s honestly refreshing to see a parent in a horror story seeing his daughter suddenly waking up with bloody claw marks on her back and going, “I am totally willing to believe whatever you’re about to tell me.”

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There’s also a subplot about one of those creepy little girls who always shows up in the protagonists’ dreams. For once, we get an actual explanation instead of her just being a random construct created by Freddy for the sake of being spooky. Being that this is Chuck Dixon, we get a climax based on Jade’s dad using his military weapons and training in the Dream World to fight Freddy, but come on. We know how much good that’ll do in the long run.

At least the follow-up issue tortures Freddy a bit. That little girl is able to do as she pleases in the Dream World and Freddy appears to be powerless to cut her up. Finding out that she’s going to be moving away soon, he gets increasingly desperate to end her before it’s too late.

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Then there’s a three-issue story called “The Demon of Sleep.” This one’s pretty cool. A group of geeks are being targeted by Freddy and one does some research and discovers an Aztec deity known for protecting people from bad dreams. He gets a talisman and comes up with a plot to summon the god to take care of Freddy.

Much like Freddy vs. Jason, the only thing stopping Freddy from being taken out for good is morality. To put the god at its full strength, they need to do a sacrifice. The ringleader opts to sacrifice the local jock bully, but the others aren’t really sure if they can go through with it. It all ultimately leads to a dark and tragic ending where hopes are dashed.

The final issue is a tale of a guy working at a local fast food place who stumbles upon the dreams of others being killed by Freddy. His dreams are so traumatizing that he’s in a constant, dazed state of work and fantasy, unable to tell the difference.

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A couple months later, Wildstorm released a one-shot called New Line Cinema’s Tales of Horror. It featured a short Texas Chainsaw Massacre story followed by an Elm Street story. The short story “Copycat” is by Christos Gage and Stefano Raffaele and it’s great.

Freddy is annoyed when one of his victims awakens only to have some fat dork dressed in a striped sweater kill her instead. Freddy discovers it’s this guy named Otis, a sociopath that Freddy passed over during Otis’ teenage years because Freddy thought him too pathetic and that death would be doing him a favor. Years later, he’s a total Freddy fanboy and wants in on the action as Freddy’s sidekick.

Freddy’s not interested, but his hands are tied. Remember during the Innovation run where I talked about how Freddy’s only vulnerability is an empty plate? Gage embraces the idea. Freddy needs to be discrete to do his twisted work. If his existence is public knowledge, then Springwood will simply empty out and he’ll be out of a hobby. Otis knows that and blackmails him so that if Otis is killed or Freddy refuses his help, tons of evidence will be emailed to the media.

To deal with this problem, Freddy stumbles upon another fanboy. It’s simply wonderful because the very idea of people idolizing him takes Freddy out of his comfort zone and even he finds this completely absurd.

The ending ties things up nicely and there’s a funny aside about a teenager on meth that Freddy considers a threat. Track this one down. It’s easily the best Freddy comic.

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Then in 2008, Wildstorm and Dynamite teamed up to give us Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash, a six-issue miniseries based on the unused screenplay for a suggested sequel to Freddy vs. Jason. Coincidentally, Bruce Campbell always thought such a movie was ridiculous because he believed nobody in their right mind had any interest in seeing his aging ass reprise the role of Ash Williams.

And now, of course, Mr. Campbell knows better.

Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash was written by Jeff Katz and James Anthony while drawn by Jason Craig and...*sigh*

Okay, listen, folks. I’ve been writing for Den of Geek for years now. I’ve talked about Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash when I did my list of ridiculous appearances by horror icons in non-movie media. I talked about it again when I did a list of comic book sequels to movies. Then yet again when I went over the history of Friday the 13th comics. I’m probably going to do an Evil Dead comics retrospective down the line and talk about it a fifth time!

Guys. I’m so tired of writing about Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash.

Anyway, the series picks up after Freddy vs. Jason and throws Ash into the mix, out to keep the Necronomicon out of the hands of both Freddy and Jason. It’s great because for once we have a genuinely charismatic hero to cheer for. I mean, the best hero character we’ve had up to this point is, who, Nancy? Yeah, Ash is a huge step up and it helps knowing that he has plot armor, so we’re assured that at the end of the day, he’s not going to be easily snuffed out to make way for the next hapless protagonist.

The final battle between the three is kind of rad, even if the artist decided not to draw any backgrounds for most of it.

A year or so later, the creative team would follow-up with Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash: Nightmare Warriors. While it’s a definite love letter to the three franchises and has a killer hook, it also needed a handful of rewrites and art that wasn’t rushed out the gate. The hook is that a support group is put together of people who have survived Freddy and/or Jason. It’s headed by Elm Street survivors Neil Gordon and Maggie Burroughs and includes other heroes from the various movies. Ash is invited since he’s had success against both Freddy and Jason at the same time.

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As this is going on, Freddy becomes empowered by the Necronomicon and attempts to take over the world with Jason and the Deadites on his side.

Things get completely ridiculous and not in a good way. It’s total nonsense with Maggie going evil just because, dressing slutty, and making out with her dad to drive home how suddenly evil she is. A lot of stuff just happens without explanation. But hey, we do get some random bits of nutty fanservice, like when Nancy’s ghost appears to help Neil out.

But the one cool thing about the mini is Freddy’s fate. This is the last Freddy Krueger comic and the last use of the Robert Englund incarnation of the character in any media, so this is the last word. In the end, he’s completely stripped of his powers by the ghouls living inside the Necronomicon. Reduced to a human and begging for his life, Freddy is then shot in the chest by Ash and his boomstick. Freddy’s corpse is blasted into a vortex. Then a random government agent character is also knocked into the vortex and we discover that he was the very cop back in the 60s who didn’t sign Freddy’s arrest warrant. He magically winds up back in the '60s and signs the warrant, thereby preventing Freddy’s lynching and origin.

read more: 14 Times Dracula Fought Marvel Superheroes

So in review, Freddy is completely depowered, as killed as killed can be, and then has his history as a demon murderer erased via time travel. You have to give this book credit for being thorough.

Overall, the Freddy comics aren’t going to blow you away, but there’s smatterings of brilliance and flashes of interesting ideas to be found buried in there. With the reboot movie falling flat, there’s no reason to expect another Elm Street comic for a long, long time. Maybe if the next attempt reboot works out or if another publisher wants to gamble on some more nostalgia.

But hey, at least we have Scary Terry in the Rick and Morty comic! Close enough, bitch!

Gavin Jasper thinks people should use Dokken as a weapon against Freddy Krueger more often. It worked like gangbusters the first time! Follow Gavin on Twitter.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Feature

Movies

Gavin Jasper

Oct 26, 2019

A Nightmare On Elm Street

Freddy Krueger

steve gerber

31 Days of Horror

from Books https://ift.tt/346Szwt

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

The Misadventures of Prince Kim - chapter 38

Wow I really don’t know how I’m still going with this, anyway it’s getting a bit... miraculace-y ;)

Also on AO3, as always

Fu had been right about ignorance being bliss. He had been absolutely, completely, right. The other timelines were just creepy at this point. Mostly Alix tried just to not think about them at all, which worked fairly well – while awake, at least. Being asleep was something else entirely.

Waking up the next morning, her most recent dream just kept replaying itself over and over in her head. It had been from that timeline where she was still under house arrest, having been kept alone for months on end at this point. Well… no wonder it was so haunting…

No. She had to get her mind off it somehow. Why not reread that science journal, for about the fifth time? That always cheered her up. Max had handed it to her the other day and told her she might find something of interest on page 27. Sure enough, she did.

He had been right about the word “aromantic”. And that wasn’t all! There was “asexuality” too! Things were finally making sense. Okay, so she didn’t actually understand most of the article (or most of the journal in general) since it was written in such scientific language, but she got the gist of it. And the gist was that there was nothing wrong with her after all. People like her were totally normal.

Her initial reaction might have been a bit overly enthusiastic, now that she thought about it. She had clung onto Jalil’s shin like a koala, refusing to let go, telling him excitedly about everything she’d just read. Okay, that had probably been pretty annoying for him. Whoops.

Well never mind. Alix took the journal in one hand, took a “scientific dictionary of terms” off the nearby bookshelf with another hand, then sat on an armchair ready to go through the article properly and understand what it meant, like a good, diligent student. Even if she still didn’t understand things she could always ask Max. The next few weeks had International Alliance peace conferences going on, which gave her an excuse to stay in this kingdom for almost the entire remaining holidays, so she would have plenty of time.

“Good morning o sister of mine, what are you doing?”

Huh, was Jalil really up this early? He was a uni student and usually seemed to be allergic to mornings or daytime.

“I’m studying,” Alix replied.

“In the holidays, really? What are you studying?”

“Science.”

“Wow, I can’t believe it! My precious little sister does actually take after me! I’m so proud, honestly, you’re going to be a great scholar someday!”

Alix just ignored him and tried to concentrate. She was used to filtering out distractions while working, considering that she always had to deal with Kim at school. Though, to be fair, she was usually the one doing the distracting.

“Aww, look at you, my adorable small sister, just sitting there reading…”

Yeah, that was very distracting. Alix just carried on trying to ignore him. Maybe he was doing it on purpose to get back at her for all the times she had distracted him from his own work. In any case, she recognized that tone of voice. It was the “I’m about to start squishing your adorable chubby little cheeks!” tone of voice. Apparently it was a common thing for older siblings to do. Alya had once mentioned that she did it to her own little sisters.

Of course, the difference was that Alya’s sisters were little kids. Alix was 17! She didn’t usually mind unless Jalil was doing it in front of people, but still… would this still be going when she was 100? Wasn’t this totally stupid and pointless? Why were older siblings like this?

Sure enough, he did indeed start poking her in the cheek and muttering about how tiny and adorable she was, as always. Hopefully he’d get bored and stop in a minute.

“No reaction,” he said, in a suddenly monotone voice. It was so unexpected that Alix couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Aha, a reaction!”

“Oh, forget it,” Alix said, snapping the journal shut. “There’s no way I can study with you around. I’m off.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go talk to Max.”

“Good for you, he can help you on your path to wisdom and knowledge! And speaking of Max, what happened with him and Kim last night?”

“That’s none of your business, ask them yourself.”

“What? No, I’m not talking to either of those children for any longer than I have to, thank you very much.”

There, snarky Jalil was back. Alix just grinned and walked out of the room, picking her snake up from the back of a nearby chair as she went. As soon as she opened the door the servant standing outside hastily jumped backwards, trying to look casual. He’d probably been listening in. Whatever, it wasn’t like she had said anything that wasn’t supposed to be heard.

Wait a second… this servant. This was the one who had been introducing everyone to the Peace Ball last night. That meant that this was the Emperor Palpatine servant. The one who Kim had challenged to a lacrosse match, for some insane reason.

“You’re Emperor Palpatine’s nemesis, right?” she asked him.

“Yep, that’s me,” the guy replied. “Uh, Your Majesty.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave a rather cocky grin.

Hmm. Kim was right, this guy really did need to be knocked down a peg. Alix thought back to the dream she’d had last night – less of a dream, more just watching the events of other timelines while asleep. The real reason why the “house arrest timeline” was so creepy was not because of the thought of house arrest anymore. It was because of what house arrest had done to her in that timeline. Cold, cynical, cruel, intimidating… that was who she had become. It wasn’t a good thing.

But then again, if she could do it in other timelines, then she could channel it into herself here too, right? Just like when she had scared those guards away from kidnapping Adrien?

She put on her coldest voice and expression and said, “You’re going to lose that lacrosse match, by the way.” The snake hissed a little, adding to the effect.

The servant looked taken aback for a few seconds, but quickly recovered. “But if you use your royal powers or your snake to force me into losing then that’s cheating and it doesn’t count.”

Okay, maybe he was right. “Fine then,” she said. “I won’t ‘scare you into losing’ or anything. But just know that I could if I wanted to. And you’re still going to lose.”

“We’ll see about that, Your Majesty.”

Oh, an annoying servant. That was so much more interesting! Why couldn’t the servants back home be like this? Things would be much more fun.

“Yeah, we’ll see. Bye for now.”

As she walked away she could see the servant bowing rather overdramatically out of the corner of her eye. No wonder Kim had challenged that guy to something within a few minutes of meeting him. He seemed like the kind of person who would clash with Kim a lot. But maybe they’d end up making friends. After all, Alix herself had clashed with Kim a lot at first, hadn’t she…?

Max was already awake when she arrived, as predicted.

“Oh good morning Alix, what’s up?”

“What happened between you and Kim last night?” she asked immediately. Of course she already knew what had happened since Kim had told her, but she needed to hear it from Max’s side too. Surely those two idiots must be on the verge of getting together. Surely.

Max sighed, his smile dropping. “A lot.”

Alix sat down beside him. “Okay. Elaborate.”

“Well, he asked me for a dance. Then we went outside in the gardens for a while. And he has a habit of being extremely supportive of me, so I felt like it was time to return the favour. I said a lot of very nice things to him indeed. Then I hugged him. For quite a long time. And then…” He put his head in his hands.

“Then what? Did you kiss him?” Of course she knew they hadn’t kissed, that was practically the first thing Kim had told her.

“No! I mean, I was thinking about it! I was going to. I wanted to.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I can’t do that when Kim doesn’t love me back like that!”

God, this was the most frustrating thing ever. She just wanted to grab Max by the ear and yell Of course Kim loves you back like that!!! He’s head over heels for you!!! How are you not seeing this!!! I’m aromantic and asexual and even I can tell!!!!!!!! Just ask him out already!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But she had been sworn to secrecy by both of them. Life could never just be simple, could it? She’d just have to get them together the long way around.

“So then what did you do?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was as impatient as she felt.

Max shrugged. “I just left. It probably seemed rather sudden.”

Yeah, it was rather sudden. Sudden enough to push Kim to tears, anyway.

“What makes you think Kim doesn’t love you back?” Alix asked. “I mean, you said he’s always really nice and supportive to you and stuff. More than usual lately. Surely that means he likes you, right?”

“Not necessarily. Kim has always been very kind and supportive to me and it never meant anything romantic. The fact that his behaviours have increased recently is probably due to the fact that he’s been under comparatively more stress these past several months, what with the flu and the news from home. Logically speaking, his feelings for me are almost certainly solely platonic.”

Well logically speaking, Max was dead wrong! Alix resisted the urge to throttle him and said, “Are you sure though? Like, are you really, really sure?”

“Yes. Look, I have thought about it properly, I promise. Kim has always been attracted to people who are considered conventionally hot, not nerds like me.”

“Seriously?! I’m not conventional!”

“But you are considered ‘hot’. Trust me, from my objective, gay point of view, I can tell.”

What? This just wouldn’t do. Max was cute-looking too, of course he was!

“I’ll have you know,” Alix said, “that from my even more objective, aromantic asexual point of view, every single kid in our class is ‘hot’, including you, so stop being so pessimistic and just go court the hell out of Kim already!”

Max smiled a little. “Sounds like you read the science journal, huh?”

“I know you’re trying to change the subject on purpose but yeah, I did. Thank you for that.”

“No problem. I’m glad it was useful for you.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m kinda wishing my other timeline selves had read it before they…”

“Before what?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Don’t worry.”

“How are the other timelines anyway? Anyone else dead yet?”

“No, unless you count on the inside. Last night instead of a dream I was just seeing what was going on in the timeline where I’m under house arrest, and it was… uh… pretty creepy.”

Max was smiling even more now. “Really? I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

“Of course I’m not!” she lied. “It’s just that like… that house arrest version of me, she’s… well, I don’t know how much I blame her, since she’s been kept in isolation for so long, it must be driving her nuts. But basically what happened is Kim was allowed to visit her for a little bit the other day, since they’re betrothed or whatever, and yeah. He’s definitely afraid of her.”

“To be fair, it doesn’t take much to be afraid of you.”

“I know, but someone who was once her best friend? She told him that as soon as she’s queen of his country, she’s gonna rule with an iron fist and make sure she always gets her way, since she can’t do that right now and it’s killing her. She’s basically being forced to abdicate and leave the throne to her dad with no choice and she wants revenge. She’s going to use forces from Kim’s kingdom to provide arms for Jalil so he can start a rebellion and take over. Or something like that.”

Max frowned. “Alright, I see why you said it was creepy.”

“Exactly. And now Kim’s scared of her, and she’ll use that to get him to allow her to do anything she wants.”

That wasn’t even the half of it. Since she was still sworn to secrecy she didn’t dare mention the next bit of what happened, but it was still chilling all the same…

“Alix, I think I should probably tell you that I’m in love with Max, don’t be mad…”

“I don’t mind. You can always just divorce me, abdicate, leave your kingdom to me, then go marry him.”

“What? But I don’t want to give up my kingdom!”

“You don’t have a choice about it. I’m being made to marry you, right? It doesn’t matter whether you ever abdicate or not. You may be the king but I will be the one in charge, whether you like it or not.”

Wow. She really didn’t like the thought of Kim being afraid of her. If house arrest had been bad enough that it would turn her into someone like that, well… thank goodness she had saved Adrien from that kind of fate.

“I wish I could talk to her,” she said finally. “I don’t know what I’d say, but maybe it would help.”

“It seems like having timeline powers is rather bittersweet in a way,” Max said.

“Yep. Emphasis on the bitter.”

“There must be good things about it too!”

“Other than learning from some stupid mistakes, there’s nothing good.”

“But surely there must–”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Max called. The door opened and in walked Kim, looking a little nervous.

“Hey guys,” he said. “Wait, Alix, you’re awake already?”

“Jeez, I don’t usually wake up that late, do I?” she said.

“Yeah, you do… anyway, um, Max? I need to ask you something…”

Aha! He was going to ask Max out, finally! Alix tried to stop herself grinning. Should she leave? No, it would be weird if she just suddenly left, wouldn’t it… but she couldn’t just stay here when Kim and Max were having a moment, could she? Oh whatever, if Kim wanted her to leave then he’d just tell her to leave. She had to stay and see this for herself.

Kim cleared his throat and then said, “Max, will you join my lacrosse team?”

What?! Lacrosse?!

“I have no idea what this is about but I would love to,” Max replied.

“That’s great. Thanks. I’ll see you later, I’m gonna go ask Alya and Nino now.”

“Alright, see you.”

Kim turned and walked out of the room again. Max just sighed and put his face in his hands again. Alix was rather close to going and finding a lacrosse stick to whack them both over the head with. Was it really so hard for people to just tell each other that they were in love?! Kim had told her, he had told Chloé, he’d told Adrien, presumably Max must have confessed to some people in his lifetime at some point…

Or had he?

“Max, how long did you say you’ve been in love with Kim?”

“A few years now. It was rather hard to notice at first so I’m not sure exactly.”

Years? Already? And he had never done anything about it at all?

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Just during the time we’ve been at this school Kim’s already had crushes on like five different people. Have you really only had one? Or did you like other people in between?”

“A few other weak ones in between, I suppose. It’s different for everyone. Kim’s a hopeless romantic who tends to fall for people rather often. Most people aren’t quite as dramatic as him when it comes to love.”

Right. That made sense. And maybe this could be put to good use.

“You’ve gotta be dramatic too, Max!” She poked him in the arm. “If you want him to love you, pull out all the stops. Show up at his window with a guitar and serenade him. Take him to the fanciest restaurant you can think of. Put a rose between your teeth and flirt with him so hard he has to take the hint. Make him swoon!”

Max was looking rather embarrassed. “Neither you, Chloé nor Adrien had to do any of that.”

“Max. Listen. Stop being so logical all the time. Just trust me. He loves cheesy romantic stuff, okay? Go dance with him in the rain, kiss him under the mistletoe, something!”

“How about play I lacrosse with him?”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s a start, I guess. But don’t forget that Kim isn’t a slow mover. Like, trust me on this. Seriously, really, trust me.”

“Maybe I’ll do something on the Cupid Festival day.”

“Good. He’d love that.”

Max smiled. “I’m so glad I told you I like Kim. It’s nice to be able to finally talk to someone about it, someone who’s willing to help me. Thank you, Alix.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. You’re my best friend, of course I’ll help you.”

“And for the record, please don’t think that I’m closer with Kim than I am with you. You mean a lot to me too, of course.” He ruffled her hair.

“Pfff, you’re in a sappy mood, aren’t you? But like… you mean a lot to me as well. So there.”

He just chuckled and pulled her into a long hug. Max wasn’t the type of person who hugged people very often – or rather, he only really tended to hug Kim – so it felt unusual. But good, too.

Finally he let go and said, “By the way, what exactly is all this about a lacrosse team?”

“Oh that!” Alix laughed. “I’m not sure of the full story, but it’s something to do with the servant who called Kim Emperor Palpatine last night.”

“Really?”

There was another knock on the door. Alix jumped up and opened it to see that Kim was there again, this time with Alya and Nino too, and they were all carrying lacrosse sticks. Upside-down.

“Lacrosse practice session time!” Kim said. “Come on you guys, there’s no time to waste!”

“What, right now?”

“Yeah, right now! We have to get to the pitch before Adam’s team does so we can practise!”

“But we’re royals, we can just order him to leave–”

“Shush! Let’s get going! Last one there has to be the goalie!”

Without waiting, Kim ran off back down the corridor. Alya and Nino exchanged an amused glance before running after him.

“So,” Alix said, turning to Max. “You ready for some lacrosse?”

“Yeah,” Max replied, standing up. “I’m ready.” .

[queercapwriting]

pleasee write nb!alex in college, like could they meet maggie in college too? also just as a personal preference cause I love the idea could alex have a really cool undercut? wow I love your writing and college nb!alex would be amazing

It’ll all be okay next term.

Next term, when Kara comes to school with them, when Kara will be a freshman.

Because Eliza is always talking about Alex needing to take care of Kara, and Alex is always thinking of taking care of Kara.

But it’s been a while since they’ve realized how much Kara takes care of them, too, without even meaning to.

Because the phone calls and the FaceTime sessions aren’t enough.

Especially now.

Especially now with their new undercut – it took a couple anti-anxiety meds to actually go through with it, because you’re already underperforming in your coursework, Alexandra, and now you’re distracting yourself further with ridiculous haircuts? – and especially now with the binder they’d saved for all of fall term to be able to afford.

The binder that finally helps them be able to wear henleys, because the damn shirts never fell right on their body before. The binder that will undoubtedly draw cries of protest from Eliza, because oh Alexandra – or would you prefer Alexander? You know this is all so much for me to take in – your body is beautiful, and aren’t you concerned about the wear and tear with such intense compression, and what will you do when you have to spend hours in the lab and you get overheated in that thing? You are still intending to spend hours in the lab, aren’t you? Because after you failed that last test, I keep worrying that you’ll just forsake all that you’ve spent so long building for… what? Some girl? Is there a girl? God, can you let me deal with this gender stuff before bringing home a girl? Would that girl be a lesbian, anyway? Oh, Alexan – Alex – why can nothing ever be simple with you, it used to be so simple with you.

The binder that will draw protests, but hell, they’re failing a couple of classes anyway – and Eliza makes sure they can’t forget it – so why not fail at everything, right?

At least, when Alex looks in the mirror with their new binder on – their roommate Lucy had grinned like a fiend listening to Alex stumble around the bathroom, pulling it up over their legs and ass, upside down and backwards, so they could slip it up their body properly, and Lucy’s grin had only gotten bigger at Alex’s excited squeals as they tossed open the door and kept running their hands over their flattened chest, standing front ways, sideways, all ways, tossing on shirt after shirt after shirt, just to watch them finally fit properly – at least when they look in the mirror now, they see their own smile, their own tears, Lucy’s grin, hear Kara’s squeals over FaceTime, rather than Eliza’s disapproval.

“The girls are gonna love you even more than they already did, Danvers,” Lucy nudges them as the two friends sit very illegally on the ledge of their first floor dorm room, their legs hanging out of their window, a couple of feet off the ground, and Alex pffts, and Alex splutters, and Alex blushes.

But then Alex glances down at their newly-bound chest, first with excitement, first with pride, then with… panic, and they grow serious.

“But what if my mom’s right? What if the gay girls just want… well…”

“Straight up girls?”

Alex nods with tears in their eyes.

“You’re amazing, Alex. Binding or not, whatever pronouns you use. Any girl can see that a mile away. And uh… hey. Looks like that gorgeous one already has.”

Alex’s heart plummets and they try to follow Lucy’s gaze, the slight nod of her head, subtly, subtly, subtly.

And then they almost tumble right off the windowsill, because the girl Lucy’s talking about?

The girl who just parked her motorcycle in the lot across from their dorm room, all thick leather jacket and boots and denim and dimples?

That girl is the most beautiful girl Alex has ever seen, and she’s staring right at them.

Alex sends a silent thank you to the queer goddesses that Lucy’s lawyerly aspirations include a military-style commitment to fitness, because somehow, even with her much smaller frame, she manages to grab Alex subtly enough to not make it obvious, strong enough to make sure they don’t splat out of the window.

The girl notices despite Lucy’s subtlety, and she grins.

Her eyes are bright and her dimples are adorable and Lucy mutters a reminder for Alex to breathe.

“Alright there?” the girl calls, and Lucy nudges Alex in the ribs.

“Nice ride,” they call back, and Lucy sits a little straighter, proud of her friend for using… words.

The girl struts over – Alex doesn’t know how to think about her walk as anything other than a confident, almost cocky, strut, and Alex is gone, gone, gone – with a small grin still on her face, a thin backpack slung over both shoulders and her helmet still in her hand.

“You two supposed to be hanging out of your window like that?”

Alex thinks of a lot of possible responses.

You supposed to be so hot amongst unsuspecting queers?

You supposed to be riding that motorcycle on campus? You can cause an accident with how good you look on it.

You supposed to have a voice that sounds like my first kiss and a face that looks like my heaven?

They think of a lot of possible responses, but they only splutter one.

“Sure, we – I mean, no, but pfft, rules? I mean, you rode a Triumph to school, like come on, screw rules, right?”

Lucy grimaces, claps Alex on the shoulder, and swings her legs up and back into their dorm room.

“Well. Good luck with this one,” she says to Maggie with a grin. “I’m Lucy Lane, and their name – if they never get around to telling you – is Alex Danvers. Feel free to stop by any time…”

“Maggie Sawyer,” the girl answers, but her eyes are on Alex’s face, which has gone pale since Lucy used their proper pronouns to introduce them to this gorgeous girl, since Maggie’s eyes traced slowly up and down Alex’s body, taking in their undercut, their flat chest, their boy jeans, their black, short-sleeved henley.

“Well. You kids have fun,” Lucy claps Alex’s shoulder again, and Alex thinks about asking her – begging her – to stay, but Lucy’s hopped back inside before Alex can form words.

“So, college has you so busy that you’re window hanging, Danvers?” the new girl teases. Maggie. Maggie Sawyer.

Alex rolls the name around in their mind, on their tongue, and decide they love it.

They shrug. “I’m usually in the lab.” They point haphazardly in the direction of one of the science buildings. “But I uh… I’ve had a lot going on lately, depression and whatever, and my mom’s been ragging on me more than usual, so I haven’t been doing so great in classes, so they gave me time off from the lab to fix my grades and – shit, I’m sorry, I… I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“They tend to ramble in front of cute girls, Sawyer!” Lucy shouts from inside their living room, and Alex nearly leans in to take a swipe at her, but Maggie just grins.

“They’re lucky I find rambling charming, then,” Maggie calls back with a tilted head and a bright smile.

She used my pronouns. She used my pronouns. She used my pronouns and she’s smiling at me like maybe she can like me and holy shit, is she – she is – oh shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna either kill Lucy or get her a car or something as a thank you…

Because Maggie is swinging her backpack off her back and gingerly placing her helmet on top of it on the ground, and she’s arching an eyebrow.

“Want some company up there, Danvers?” she asks, holding up a hand, and Alex gulps, and Alex leans down to grasp it.

They both inhale sharply at the other’s touch, at the strength in the other’s grip. At the spark, the heat, that shoots through both of their bodies on contact.

Alex tugs her up easily, and Maggie situates herself next to them on the window ledge.

“So your parents have hella painful expectations of you too, huh?” she asks, her voice deliberately light.

“Just my mom. My dad, he uh… plane crash.”

“Oh shit, Danvers, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “

“No. No, it’s okay. Your parents too? Expectations?”

Maggie grins wryly and studies their fingernails. “It’s whatever. But hey – looks like you got yourself a nice roommate.”

“Damn right they do!”

“Oh my god, Lucy!”

“What, am I cramping your non-existent style, Al?”

Alex groans but Maggie just laughs. “She looks out for you,” she says softly after a few moments, like it’s hard for her to believe that people have relationships like that. Friendships like that. Family like that.

Like it’s a foreign concept to her.

Alex runs their hand over the side of their head that’s shaved, and bites the inside of their cheek.

“Do you not? Have people who look out for you?”

Maggie just shrugs. “I’m new here. New to… cities, generally.”

Alex studies her for a moment. “Welcome, then, Maggie Sawyer. Consider yourself looked out for.” They hold out their hand, and Maggie looks wary, like touching them again will catapult her into a world she’s scared to go, terrified to trust, petrified to hope for.

But Alex’s face is kind, and it’s open, and damn, it’s cute as hell.

And cute queers always were Maggie’s weakness.

Or, now, maybe… her hope.

She takes Alex’s hand, and shakes it, and she watches Alex groan good-naturedly when Lucy whoops from inside their living room.

“Can you get your own life?!” Alex calls back inside, not bothering to take their hand from Maggie’s.

“Not when yours is so straight out of a movie!”

Alex blushes and Maggie beams and Alex thinks, for once, that maybe, if this is part of their life movie, that they’re not such a failure after all.

[therealraeartblog]

Excessively Detailed Headcanon Meme YOU GOTTA DO ALL OF EM FOR SINK PLEASE RAE pls also have i mentioned that i love u lately

GEEZ FRIEND THAT’S A LOT OKAY UH

What does their bedroom look like? Covered in books and succulents and flowers/pretty rocks/spell ingredients in jars. She probably has one of those poster beds and dries bundles of nice-smelling herbs on the top of them so she can fall asleep to the smell of lavender. I can see her room being messy and cluttered in a Howl’s Moving Castle kinda way

Do they have any daily rituals? She likes to walk her garden at least once a day, and tries to read at least a few pages of whatever book she’s working through.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often? I can’t see her exercising anything but her mind tbh

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy? She’s so used to living alone that she probably would need to adjust to the ‘there’s someone else in my kitchen’ thing first but she’d probably just kinda wait for them to be done in lieu of saying anything

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) lmao she’s a messy witch there’s spell ingredients and chalk marks and books EVERYWHERE but her clothing is always immaculate.

Eating habits and sample daily menu Uh I can only really picture her daily habits as an objecthead and they don’t eat sorry. If she is cooking for herself she probs enjoys easy things, or things she can grow herself.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time She doesn’t feel like a time waster, more an idler. She may drift through towns or cities without really interacting with anyone or anything, leaving early and taking the last train home, mostly due to the feeling of having nothing else to do and wanting to be surrounded by the world for a while

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging Fuck man i dunno she likes novels a lot and sometimes will spend the whole day reading, only to crash into bed at 7am and sleep it off

Makeup? She used to try to cover her burn scars but it got too tedious (plus they reach down to her hands and wearing makeup on your hands is just ugh). She doesn’t like people looking at her face so she doesn’t really wear any.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such? uhhhh well she has the feeling that people don’t really like her/people are staring at her but idk if that would be a Neuroses

Intellectual pursuits? She is always trying to twist magic in unique ways and create new spells

Favorite book genre? Romantic Fantasy

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? She is like the one oc i was hoping would be gay yet ended up surprisingly straight. She doesn’t give much thought to orientations in general (also she’s fuckin thick as a vault door when it comes to relationships and/or seeing other people’s romantic feelings for others and/or herself) but just happens to be attracted to Male-leaning individuals

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) She’s got a big burn scar down half of her body, extending up to the left side of her face and down that shoulder/arm/hand/side. It’s mostly scar tissue now but it’s lighter than her normal skintone and thus very obvious, at least to her.

Biggest and smallest short term goal? biggest - to somehow convince Quet to keep coming over even after her debt is paid. smallest - to not get her balloon snagged on anything

Biggest and smallest long term goal? biggest - to somehow achieve the level of human attachment she sees around her. Smallest - To grow the most beautiful garden(tm)

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress She loves pretty dresses and skirts and always wears tights (they used to cover the burns on her legs, now it’s just a habit). She always has the moon amulet around her neck and enjoys dramatic coats and scarves

Favorite beverage? idk why but ‘hot cocoa’ popped into my head

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? The stars. Books she’s read recently. Spells she wants to try. Hex.

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? I can’t really think of any? idk I haven’t thought much into her childhood except that she used to look up to witches in media. I’m sure at some point she got a stomach bug and spent two weeks marathoning harry potter and watching mary poppins on repeat

Turn-ons? Turn-offs? lmao i was gonna say she’s a sapiosexual but honestly even she’s not that pretentious. She does enjoy an intellectual conversation though. Turn-offs would be essentially anything crass or bigoted i suppose

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? I imagine some sort of list or plan or recipe would end up on the piece of paper, or multiple at different angles across the page

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life? Not at all and yet they spend a surprisingly small amount of time actually looking for things. She knows where things are even if they’re sprawled everywhere.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all? they care a LOT about intellectual pursuits and especially magical ones, they enjoy evocations and transmutations

How do they see themselves 5 years from today? Probably in the same situation in the next town over

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout? Honestly her plans are ‘exist in one place for as long as is convenient, leave as soon as you get the feeling people are growing tired of you’

What is their biggest regret? The botched spell that scarred her

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy? Best friend - Quet. Worst Enemy- probably Run.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?) MAGIC

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) DENIAL

Most prized possession? Her wand

Thoughts on material possessions in general? I mean she has mostly fleeting things- plants live and die, ingredients are used up. The most static thing she has are the amulet, her wand and her books, and none of these hold any extrinsic value

Concept of home and family?She doesn’t have a very strong one. Home is where she is, family is who she’s related to. It takes her a while to accept the family that found her more recently

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?) She’s very good at accidentally diving head-first into other people’s private lives, bc she has 0 experience with social cues

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? I don’t know if they consider anything they do to be a waste of time tbh

What makes them feel guilty? When they accidentally cross a line they didn’t know was there, and end up pushing people away because of it

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making? DEFINITELY analytical

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? Uhh I’m mostly blanking but i think type B?

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained? Introvert time in the garden/tending to succulents

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither? Superiority, definitely

How misanthropic are they? I have done 40 questions and I’m not ashamed to say i cannot recall the definition of misanthropic and am not going to look it up good day

Hobbies? Reading, gardening, making spell jars and hanging pots

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education? She got pretty far in formal education (college at least) but sees no difference in where one gets their knowledge if they have it

Religion? I know a passing knowledge of wicca and paganism and I think Paganism? I really need to do more reading about it whoops

Superstitions or views on the occult? lmao she’s a witch my man

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds? words, because they don’t know how else to.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal? *sideeyes @roseisfrommars‘s Hex* that one

How do they express love? Through quality time and small gestures, and tripping over words of admiration

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like? lmao wands out and enchantments flying she’s not using her fists

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? girl she ded. she highkey already ded.