#with a bit of queer rebellion mixed in

[spencer-is-dead]

Getting back to a story I was writing and the premise is literally

🔥 RECLAIMING THE MAGIC SCHOOL FOR THE GAYS 🔥

That’s it the entire story

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Sauron and his Demonic Facets in “Rings of Power” and Tolkien lore

Tolkien established Melkor/Morgoth as the Lucifer/Satan of his legendarium: he calls him “diabolus” (Letter 153), and this is obvious on his entire character: he’s the one who corrupts God’s creation and is the archangel/Vala (like Lucifer was). Him being dragged in chains and imprisoned until the end of time in the Void also parallels a biblical event.

Sauron is the chief satanist demon in the lore, the number one servant and follower of Morgoth/Satan: Satanic rebellion and evil of Morgoth and his satellite Sauron; in which Evil is largely incarnate, and in which physical resistance to it is a major act of loyalty to God (Tolkien Letter 156).

There’s a lot of debate on what demonic figure is Sauron suppose to be, in the lore. And “Rings of Power” is giving us some insight on this. I don’t think Sauron is meant to be a “copy-paste” character of one demonic figure alone, because he appears to be a mix of three demons of Jewish-Christian tradition: Lilith, Samael and Asmodeus.

Before diving into this, there’s a subject that needs to be addressed; and that’s the bizarre attempt to de-sexualize these characters (mostly Sauron) by the Tolkien fandom, and mostly by the so-called “Tolkien purists”. Everyone recognizes the Christian-Catholic inspiration here, and knows the Devil is seen as the creator of all kinds of sexual depravity, deviation and promiscuity in the world (according to Christain faith); the same way Morgoth was responsible for corrupting Arda. Apparently, sex had nothing to do with this corruption, according to some. Odd, to say the least, when Tolkien gives us descriptions of “indominable lust” on both characters (Morgoth and Sauron).

Tolkien himself clarifies his thoughts on this, on his letter 43, when he writes: the devil is endlessly ingenious, and sex is his favorite subject. He is as good every bit at catching you through generous romantic or tender motives, as through baser or more animal ones.

Them being magical and demonic creatures might indicate they have the ability to control whenever they want to reproduce or not. We know from the lore that Morgoth bound himself to his physical form because of his non-stop corruption of Arda, but this was a process over thousands upon thousands of years, including the corruption of countless beings, races and creatures (including Maiar).

There’s a bit of confusion about Maiar becoming bound to their current physical forms (and unable to return to their spirit form) if they “indulge” too much on them: eating and drinking are the examples on Note 5 (“Vinyar Tengwar”) of the “Osanwe-kenta" essay. Begetting and conceiving are the most binding ones: Melian the Maia did become bound to her physical form after conceiving Lúthien.

For Maiar to become bound to their current physical forms (without actually conceiving offspring) is a very long process. There’s a running joke about Galadriel going to Mordor for a week and have sex with Sauron to “trap” him in his physical form, but it doesn’t work like that. This wouldn’t happen in a week, nor a year, probably not even a century; if we take Morgoth as an example. We are talking about thousands of years. And Sauron is a particular case because he doesn’t stay on the same physical form for long; he shapeshifts a lot throughout the legendarium. This lower his risk of becoming bound to a physical form, so all is fair game.

With that out of the way let’s dig in:

Lilith

You sought queerness, I gave it to you.

We see Sauron assuming this facet when he sides with Morgoth. He’s his chief lieutenant and most devoted servant, indeed, but there’s a sexual subtext to the “seduction of Mairon”, and Lilith is Samael’s bride. We also have the “feminization of hyper-masculine Mairon” as a consequence of his corruption by Morgoth, as I’ve already talked about in this post.

Lilith is the “mother of demons”, and together with Samael (which is often considered one of the names for Satan), creates a host of demonic children. This “demonic children” are incubus and succubus (sex demons).

The Orcs were Morgoth’s idea, as a means to corrupt the Children of Ilúvatar (Eru); Men and Elves. The first Orcs, the Moriondor, were Elves corrupted by Morgoth to create a new race. However, the next “generation” were bred by Sauron, probably at Morgoth’s request. And there was crossing between Orcs and Men, too.

From the First to the Third age, Sauron oversees the Orcs, and we told they “multiplied like flies”. The Orcs reproduce sexually; which means, Sauron was surrounded by sex all the time, in both Angband and Mordor. Lilith herself was known for her dark, dangerous and uncontrollable sexuality, which she passes on to her “children”, so make of that what you will.

After Samael was castrated by God (Morgoth was bound to his physical form in the lore), Lilith devotes herself to steal the “seed” of men to create her demonic offspring; and we see this with Adar, as he’s considered the “Father of the Orcs” and Sauron gave him demonic children. How did Sauron accomplished this? Through some weird sex magic (sorcery).

Samael

Samael (“poison of God”) is the adversary (“the Enemy” on Tolkien lore), the seducer, and he’s mentioned in the Old Testament of the Bible, connected to Jewish tradition and early Christianity. Described as handsome and angelic, he’s one of the several angels who rebelled against God, and descend upon Earth to fornicate with women.

He’s the prince of all demons, a sorcerer, and a “angel of death”, punisher of sinners. In the Jewish Kabbalah, he’s known as the “great serpent” who coils around creation and injects his venom into it (like Morgoth corrupted creation). He’s associated with fire, and represents the Dark side of the Sun (in “Morgoth’s Ring”, Morgoth r*pes Arien, the Maia of the Sun).

We see Sauron taking this facet, mostly, during the Third age, when he wants to emulate Morgoth, and declares himself “Morgoth come again”, and he descends “into the folly of imitating [Morgoth], endeavoring to become himself supreme Lord of Middle-earth” (Morgoth’s Ring).

However, he already assumes this “angel of death” and “punisher of sinners” role in the Second age, when he kills Celebrimbor and Mirdania. As I’ve talked about in this post, Celebrimbor’s sins were pride and envy, capital sins against Eru himself, for which the punishment is death. Celebrimbor sided with evil (Sauron) because of his arrogance, vanity and envy of Feänor, because he wanted to craft legendary objects and create a mythos like his grandfather’s Silmarils.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus (“wrath-demon”) is the demon of lust (“original sin”), the king of demons, the prince of pleasures, the patron of passions, and the lord of luxury. He’s the Devil’s wingman, who’s known as a trickster, a shapeshifter, and a seducer who deceives, causing other beings to stray from God’s path. He whispers into peoples’ ears, and inflames their passions and desires. He’s connected to power, seduction and testing of wills.

All of this fits Sauron’s character in the Second age like a glove. And while Lilith sexually seduces men (like First age Sauron); Asmodeus sexually seduces women. He’s known for being beautiful, charming and for his engaging nature.

For some reason, Mairon emerges from that cave craving p*ssy. Perhaps the men were too bad for him (Morgoth doesn’t need explanation, and Adar literally destroyed his physical form), I don’t know. Either way he literally “eats” a woman to regain his physical form in 2x01, so not sure if that’s the explanation, or what’s that even suppose to mean.

We see glimpses of this facet with “Halbrand”, and even though he was on his “repentant era”, he was a demon, still, and a fallen angel. And he displayed his sexual appetite for women, or talked about women in sexual terms, on several occasions, throughout Season 1.

Tamar: You're on a lucky streak, low man. Free sail to our island, eating our food, drinking our ale... What will you take next? Our lands? Our trades? Halbrand: Don't forget your women. (1x03)

We also saw him shamelessly flirting with Galadriel, many times:

In Season 2, the focus of his sexual seductions is Mirdania. She’s the plot device to recall the audience that Galadriel remains on Sauron’s mind, yes, but she’s also a part of Sauron’s plan at Eregion.

Right from the start, we see Sauron flirting with Mirdania to try to gain entrance into Eregion:

And it works because Mirdania is the one who “influences” Celebrimbor to go to him, and eventually allow him in, and make his “rings of power” masterplan a reality.

She’s the one who sees Sauron’s true form, when she goes into the Unseen world. And he tries to “damage control” this. Next, we see Sauron planting the seeds of suspicion on Mirdania’s mind concerning Celebrimbor, to create discontent among the smiths. And he employs seductive tactics to achieve this.

We also see Mirdania initiating touch with him, so this poor she-elf has been successfully seduced by this sex demon.

She’s also killed by Samael-Sauron, the “punisher of sinners”, but what were Mirdania’s sins, exactly? She was a just a smith afraid of losing her job, and both fed up and worried with her high-maintenance boss. And she’s not symbolic “Jesus” to die for other characters’ sins. She’s not guilty of pride, greed, wrath, envy, gluttony nor sloth. Which leaves us with sin of lust. Maybe Sauron was, indeed, doggy-styling her at the forge…

In 2x08, we have the symbolic “Fall of Galadriel”, where this sex demon tempts her into “eating the forbidden fruit”:

Moving forward, we can’t know for sure which of these demons will continue to inspire Sauron’s character in “Rings of Power”, but since Tolkien wrote that Sauron’s lust knew no bounds during his War with the Elves plot, it’s likely the Asmodeus vibes will continue. Eru also “thot begones” him during the Fall of Númenor (Season 4, most likely), taking away his ability to create a fair form (and reduce him to impotence), which can have something to do with his “demon of lust” side.

[ladyloveandjustice]

List of "Does it Like Women" Results and whether I agree

I find the "Does it like women" blog fascinating, as y'all have probably noticed. I always tend to think deeply about this topic when I consume media, so I wanted to make a list of results I disagree with, because it interests me! I'll likely be updating this through reblogs if my interest doesn't wane, I'll make a note in the replies when I do!

Loves Women

I agree with all of these so far! Well, loves women might be a little bit of a stretch for the first Spiderverse movie (on the other hand...doc ock...hnnn), but I think the second does so yeah basically agree.

Likes Women

Kill la Kill- Man it's 2013 again and I'm seeing tumblr make powerpoints about how klk is deeply feminist and it's actually a super deep critique of harassment that Ryuko has to wear the ugliest outfit ever and Westerners Don't Understand (person making this argument is inevitably a Westerner).

Yeah, based on the part I've seen and everything I've heard, hard disagree. But I have not seen the whole thing, just those three, I do know the part I saw included rape jokes a plenty, a weird victim-blamey take on "not being ashamed" of being forced into a skimpy outfit and how if you're bothered by men ogling you that's your weakness, and a vagina wedgie. I'm not as mad about it as I was back then,and I can appreciate the show has it's good points later on. Not having watched it also means my knowledge is incomplete. However, I have listened to really in depth breakdowns of the series (mainly Anifem's podcast), so I know exactly what happens, and yeah, the treatment of women doesn't impress me. I'm on the dislike side, (holding back on hates because again, haven't seen all of it)

...could understand mixed feelings though, I guess

Madoka- I'd definitely go more towards mixed feelings honestly (especially if we're counting Rebellion) but I get the people who say "likes".

Yuri is my Job- it loves women, it loves messy women, it loves women who love women, it loves them so much, idk why it got a sizeable no vote. People who only watched the first ep? People who think yuri is "bad"?

Mob Psycho 100- Someone in the notes says "accidentally likes women" and that's the only answer in the "likes women" area I'll accept. It has 10 million prominent male characters and like three prominent female characters. ONE really really obviously has a hard time imagining women as powerful or action heroes. (this is reflected in One Punch Man too) (One Punch Man actively hates women and queer people though, Mob is infinitely better) Only one who ever gets to fight and play with the boys, and she's a low level mook, and we have to spend 75% percent of her limited screentime on whether it's actually okay to fight women, with her winning argument being "Well you're literally a child so I guess it evens out" (???) The little girl with the evil dolls gets even less screentime.

I do like that the series examines how Mob idealized Takane and how people not caring about the real her made her tired, as well as how it allowed her to reject Mob and was basically a lesson in the importance of accepting rejection. But her screentime is also really limited, and I feel like we could have dove into her a lot more. Tome is a wonderful weird girl and I liked her little arc, and I hear she gets more in the Reigen manga, but still not a TON of screentime, and even with her there are a couple jabs about how she doesn't "count" as a girl due to not acting traditionally feminine we're clearly supposed to find funny. Emi is...there I guess. There's that sweet scene with the writer girl, and the bully girl, but they're like, not reoccurring at all, as evidenced by how I can't remember their names.

And uh. the girls school episode.

Anyway. Hot take but I don't think "they're barely in the story but when they are two of them are treated pretty decently and have some depth, though there is some weird stuff about whether women can even fight men or whatever" really counts as "likes women". I'd go more mixed feelings.

Life is Strange-out of the two options I chose dislikes, but my feelings are a lot closer to "mixed feelings". I go into why here.

Gushing Over Magical Girls- lol. lmao even. The anime about middle school girls who look 8 sexually assaulting other middle school girls DEFINITELY doesn't like women. I go into more detail here.

Cowboy Bebop: Mixed feelings, probably. I chose dislikes because yes, Faye and Ed are great (you could def read Ed as nb though), but Faye also is repeatedly damsel in distress'd and treated as incompetent in her field when I don't think she should be, she can be a failgirl without being the sole woman in the action side of the group and also the least capable (there's also That Scene in the movie). also i just. it's fine that she's sexy but I hate her outfit. give her something nicer looking, it's so ugly. But my main reason for a dislike vote is the treatment of Julia. Girl is a textbook example of fridging. They really gave her so little. But yeah I could see mixed feelings.

Also do you remember that one scene during Faye's tragic backstory where she's hospitalized and the camera requires us to look down her super (painful looking? like idk how she's not screaming about it) squished boobs during this tense and important moment god that took me out. whenever anyone acts like Faye always owns her sexiness and the camera never does anything I remember that scene.

Ranma 1/2: I've seen read a good chunk of it, and this result is...surprising. Maybe by the standards of 80's manga though, who knows.

Better Call Saul- I did vote yes on this one, but I'd put it more at mixed feelings. Kim is a fantastic character, but there aren't enough women on the show at all. She's a major part of the show, but basically the only one of any note. I only voted yes because I finally remembered Francesca was a reoccurring character and she's all right, but the fact I had to think to remember...

Undead Unluck: I know it gets a lot better later but I'm not sure if a work that has it's female character continuously and comically sexually harassed for the first few chapters can ever get liking women privileges. I don't know enough about it but it might be a mixed feelings situation.

Akiba Maid War: tbh I'd probably give this 'loves women'.

Ducktales: For the second season specifically I'd say "loves women". The first season leans more towards 'like women' though, so it evens out.

Mixed Feelings

Dracula- IIII definitely think it dislikes women, sorry guys. Mina is a great character and you do have to take it in the context of when it was written. But there are surely contemporaries of Bram Stoker that wouldn't have randomly gone out of their way to scoff at the "New Woman". Not to mention again, really random sidebars about how men are so much smarter and cooler and women should be grateful to them. I could go on about Lucy and how Mina is treated and whether that's a critique of sexism or just playing into it and how it's so open to interpretation but I'll stop here.

also the book is hugely anti- Romani, immigrant etc and I think that ties into disliking women since some women are those Romani and immigrants

It really really felt like a case where a lot of people in the Drac Daily tag just wanted it to be super feminist because they liked it (you can like things without having to make them feminist! it's fine!), and the way they scoffed at feminist scholars who had "surface level readings" of the text (aka they dared to say it was sexist) still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

The Lego Movie: dislikes women. what are y'all on. Even it's own sequel calls it out for disliking women. Wildstyle is basically the only woman with real characterization and she's the purest concentration of "hypercompetent woman must play second fiddle to Average Male loser who is the one who actually saves the world and also she falls in love with him because of course she does'. Then Wonder Woman got one line (in literally the first theatrical move she got to even be in) and Superman and Batman a lot of screen time.

Does not like

Scott Pilgrim- Don't get this result, I'd put it at likes or mixed feelings? It's literally about how Scott has weird issues with women where he doesn't see them as to full people they are, and it calls him out on that hard. The whole sixth volume is how he made up a damsel in distress scenario for Kim and always took her for granted, how he put all the blame on Envy for the end of their relationship when he played a huge role in that, Knives finally getting over him, moving on, and telling him he needs to grow up a little (highlighting how his grossness towards her was him refusing to accept that he was an adult now, and that he was horrible to her, and yes he does apologize), and accepting that he and Ramona are both messed up people and she's just as flawed as he is, taking down the pedestal he put her on. And having Ramona triumphantly confront her abuser. Scott acknowledges he has a lot in common with Gideon, the supervillain!

Roxy is a sticking point, the whole 'it was a phase thing' and her and Ramona's relationshipbeing unexplored was annoying (fixed in Takes Off) but even she had some moments of pathos and was definitely the (Ramona's) ex the story seemed to sympathize with the most.

I dunno. this seems like a tumblr lacks media literacy thing again. Did you think the narrative agrees with Scott. Did you only watch the movie.

Succession- I'd go more mixed feelings? Dislikes is fine, I think it doesn't have enough women and often privileges male characters over them, but sometimes it's examination of the sexism Shiv faces is really incisive, and she's a complex character. But she should have gotten that abortion.

Watchmen: hates women actually. Pretty much anything written by Alan Moore does.

Persona 4: I think it hates women actually. But dislike is fine too.

Merlin: Everything I've heard about the show puts in in the hates camp rather than dislikes, but i never watched it (I did watch this video on it, and the bootlicking is out of this world if it's accurate) so I can't really comment

Fables: I cannot fathom how this did not get "hates women". Not just the fact it's written by a known misogynist. I will always remind everyone that I was literally there to see Bill Willingham say the female fans protesting the misogynist treatment of Stephanie Brown were annoying and he wishes he could shoot them. I was there. I heard him. This attitude completely shows up in his work. On top of that, his conservative, women hating idealogy all over this comic. Do you not remember all the random abortion soapboxes and how hard Snow White got sidelined????

And when I refreshed my memory, I discovered the reason Snow White had kids when she didn't want to was because a spell made her have sex with the male lead and she didn't even remember that happening. I also forgot that her backstory was the seven dwarfs raped her (but then she murdered them! Girl Power!) This is only the tip of the iceberg, I rediscovered way too many screwed up things he did to his female characters. Plus blatant Zionist propaganda and a ton of racism.

Like Snow White's backstory was some dark and edgy rape revenge and she's an Empowered Woman now, only to have her be raped by the man she will marry (in a mutual rape) but we don't call it that, and now she has kids she doesn't want, she can't get an abortion because It's Evil, time to quit her job she's proud of and move to a farm to have six kids.

iCarly-- It hates women! Dan Schneider. That should be all we need but some people in the comments insisted on separating the art from the artist despite the fact the artist is ALL OVER the art, and said art directly tormented Jeanette McCurdy! There was so much content in the show that was there to specifically torment her-- the fact her character has a food addiction/eating disorder while she had a real life eating disorder and they had to have known this, the fact after hearing she had a crush on an actor then they wrote it into her character to humiliate her, the fact they continually sexualized her while knowing her discomfort with it and with her body-- I have also watched the exhaustive basically minute-by-minute breakdown by QuintonReviews. Some gross shit happens on that show.

Hates Women

Agree with all of these so far!

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Hullo!

For the pride asks... 3, 5 and 7 for any/as many you'd wish! 👀

[ask game]

Hey hey, thank you for the ask! :]

I uh. maybe went overboard and did everyone except Ari and Liam (since i did them in the other post) hfsfhdk

3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?

Neira: Never had an interest in romantic or sexual relations, honestly did not know that this was like, not a Conscious Decision/ something you can influence until uh. after the Blight probably fhdskjfdl. Just never really thought about it that deeply.

Kala: Tbh i still haven't figured out exactly how i think Dwarf gender works, but in any case her gender and race and caste are all very interconnected and all that gets thrown upside down when she gets exiled to the surface.

Attraction was never something that was relevant or interesting to her before, so feeling attracted to Alistair in some way was a very new and confusing experience!

Noya: Wasn't quite at the point of realising that her (lack of) sexual attraction was Different TM yet, later it gets mixed up with trauma and a bunch of complicated feelings. Had some related gender feels as well, came to the conclusion that she likes her agab but in a "fuck you it's none of your business" way. Discovered that she/they swag once Renan assured them that she was 100% allowed to do that even if they were "just" a woman.

Var'renan: They've never felt attached to a specific gender or gender presentation as a child, and growing up that slightly changed into not feeling confined by any one gender. At some point it changed from simply not caring about being perceived as a different gender to Similarly gender never had a part in her attraction to others either.

Lilian: She actually thought she was a lesbian for a while before she noticed she didn't like women exclusively, but never really thought about how romantic attraction worked for her until it happened For Real (with Isabela). It was weird to find out that this was actually quite different from usual, and it took her quite some time to figure out what to do with these feelings.

June: First hints of bisexuality was probably her preferring the idea of being married off to a woman rather than a man, if mostly because she hated the idea of having to bear children. Later getting involved with all sorts of people was part of her Rebellion Phase TM, but she realised that hey, i do like this actually. As for aromanticism, that was never something she had to confront or consider until Cullen, and that was Quite The Ride because the circumstances made it kind of confusing to figure out.

5. How did you figure out your oc's identity?

In general it's usually just a Trust The Process kind of deal i guess? I don't really go in with a plan and will take notes on what vibes the characters give me & then work off of that. I also like to give different cultures different base concepts of gender, even if it's just minor differences, since, well, truth be told i'm a bit tired of standard white euroamerican queer takes.

some separate notes though:

June: took me a bit to figure out she's aro; it started with me doing Cullen's romance out of curiosity, but always feeling like that Didn't Quite Fit despite the building blocks all being in place, and ended with an "ah. that's why."

Var'renan: started with me being indecisive about what gender i wanted to play, and figured i could just. not choose xd Ended up fitting her general attitude and self-image very well!

7. Is there something that could cause your oc to question their identity? What?

Neira: She's confident in not having an interest in romantic/sexual relationships but if she was in circumstances and an environment where there was Less Going On she'd probably notice some gender feelings going on.

Kala: Don't think there is anything left to question, since she doesn't label herself in any particular way wrt to her sexuality (and the gender related stuff already happened)

Noya: I could see them grappling with their ace-ness again here and there before coming to terms with it

Var'renan: Not really, they are very confident in their identity.

Lilian: If that kind of situation came up she'd struggle with polyamory, i think. She'd be insecure about what that says about her and if she is betraying her devotion to Isabela by falling for another person

June: Can't think of anything, really. She's def wished for male physical traits now and then but more in a utility way, and still feels strongly about being a woman.

[commajade]

idk how to word this question properly, but what differences do you see in the way korean lesbians/bi women dress in comparison to american ones? i can’t speak for neither but i can see a difference between how they dress in my country x in the US so i was curious

well to put it simply they dress like korean people? i only have my own experiences as a gyopo butch dyke and my historical knowledge to draw from so this info is gonna be specific to what i've noticed and not at all a comprehensive overview of the entire korean lesbian scene.

south korea has its own clothing trends and accessible clothing items with sizing and cuts that r specific to the country so that's what queer women have to choose from basically. korean clothing tends to be a little bit more gender neutral than american clothing as of the last 10 years and a little bit more formal. a lot of young korean people wear blazers and slacks and formal shoes just to hang out with friends regardless of gender, mix and matched with like jeans and t-shirts and sneakers to dress it down for casual occasions. most korean lesbians dress like korean women and the large breadth of personal styles that that entails. this is very much colored by upbringing, class, hobbies, whether they take part in subcultures, etc. korean lesbians/bi women often gravitate to subcultures such as the underground music scene or tattooist scene. the tattooist scene is inherently countercultural because giving tattoos without a medical license is illegal so people who cannot have standard jobs due to social hierarchies but have artistic inclinations tend to be drawn there.

there was a large south korean feminist movement in the last 10 years that has led to a lot of feminist and/or lesbian/bi women dressing casually and androgynously with no make up as a response to constant objectification and inhumane beauty standards in society and the workplace. i would say that this is analogous to the US lesbian feminist movement in the 60s-80s toward androgyny as a response to objectification. this is in historical contrast with butch/femme culture which cares more about actively attracting other women and signaling that they are a part of the lesbian subculture rather than dressing in a way to signal rebellion from patriarchy and wanting to deter the attraction and attention of men.

i think one significant difference to mention here would be that butch women in america and other western countries have the 1940s-onward classic butch image as the base for what female masculinity looks like while korean butch women in the 1970s-1980s typically dressed in a hippie style with long hair, denim, and prints. this isn't rly reflected in today's butch women's dress sense tho there's not a lot of cultural continuity from the older generation to now because of violent repression and other historical reasons.

the butch women i saw around hongdae going to bars and clubs dressed smart and formal and a little bit edgy but in a way similar to well-groomed and dressed korean men or even korean actors and kpop idols. the trend seemed to be female masculinity that looks like a feminine man the way that is popularized in korean media. the femmes i saw with them dressed similarly to other korean women going out for the night.

and there are of course many older butch women still around and they have varying styles but many tend to do a western style classic working class butch look. very few of these women r in the middle or upper class from what i've seen. these are women who are single or partnered with women and have worked in jobs such as manual labor work, taxi driving, food service, and bartending. their attire reflects their lives.

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Jay-Z - The Blueprint

Nobody in their right mind would disagree that this is Jay-Z's best album. Hova is at his peak in terms of rhyme schemes, flow, and confidence. But he's got one more thing in his back pocket that blasts The Blueprint into the stratosphere and that's amazing beats. The production team features a few names that you don't recognize: Bink, Just Blaze, Taskmasters. But Kanye fucking West brings the heat on Takeover, Heart Of The City, and Izzo (H.O.V.A.) and it's the latter of the three that wound up being the lead single and one of Jay-Z's biggest hits. The way that these beats seem to challenge Jay-Z to get even more creative with his rhymes and lyrics is apparent when you hear how he wraps verses around the Jackson 5 sample in Izzo. The Blueprint is one of the best hip hop albums of all time and honestly I think it really does belong in the top 50.

OutKast - Aquemini

The funkiest OutKast album and the one that took them to the top of the charts. The massive hit Rosa Parks shows off all the group's strengths. Andre 3000's complex rhyme schemes contrast with Big Boi's straightforward lyricism tied together with a funky hook and more than a little bit of country influence. The whole album is like that, but Rosa Parks is an exemplary song if you wanna hear what the peak of dirty south hip hop is like.

Bob Marley And The Wailers - Legend

Holy shit c'mon you already had Exodus on this list are you really gonna say that a greatest hits is better than that? Hell half of Exodus is on this fucking comp. I'm gonna start biting soon I swear to god.

Ramones - s/t

This album more than any other wound up being the blueprint for the US punk rock scene. Short, fast and stupid these songs are the perfect teenage rebellion. There is more vibe than meaning and Joey Ramone's vocals are bare comprehensible most of the time anyway. It captures the raw punk rock spirit of aimless rebellion against a world that is alienating.

Paul Simon - Graceland

Graceland may be a Paul Simon album, but it is anything but a solo effort. Every song on the album features significant contributions from a monstrous cast of both South African and American artists. Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes and Homeless heavily feature isicathamiya group Ladysmith Black Mambazo and band leader Joseph Shabalala shares writing credit on both. Bakithi Kumalo's fretless bass permeates the entirety of Graceland and lends a unique cohesive sound to the musically diverse album. The title track is a peak example of South African and American fusion, Simon seeking to make an mbaqanga track, got guitarist Ray Phiri. Phiri was inspired to emulate American folk and country based on the Graceland theme and the result is something that sits perfectly in between, not quite an American folk song and not quite a South African mbaqanga song. There are a diverse cast of non South African musicians here too, Senegalese pop star Youssou N'Dour makes an appearance and American acts The Everly Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, and Los Lobos get to hang. Graceland is an incredibly unique mix of styles, ridiculously catchy, unrelentingly beautiful. It is one of my favorite albums of all time. I listen to it on a monthly basis probably.

Prince - Sign O' The Times

I don't get why Prince isn't considered a queer icon. He changed his name to a symbol that was a mix of male and female gender symbols, his own lesbian band mates called him a "fancy lesbian", he cancelled an entire album because he was scared that his female alter ego was trying to escape and take over his life. Sign O' The Times has a song called If I Was Your Girlfriend. This is such a queer album. It's also funky and super fun and horny as shit. Prince is great.

Nas - Illmatic

East coast hip hop peaked with Illmatic. Nas engages in the tightest internal and multisyllabic rhymes without ever sacrificing clarity of purpose. The beats are sparse and reflect the stark subject matter. There's no bragging, it's actually much more pessimistic than that "Life's a bitch and then you die, that's why we get high, cause you never know when your gonna go" "I never sleep cause sleep is the cousin of death". The lyrics speak of a difficult life with no room for braggadocia. Not only is Illmatic gunning for GOAT of GOATs status, but it is also one of the most destructively influencial albums in musical history. Until Illmatic the most successful hip hop albums were the work of single dedicated producers, but Illmatic features a large production crew. The producers on Illmatic all work well together and there was a concentrated effort to keep the album cohesive, but all imitators saw was a laundry list of famous names and from them on hip hop production teams became bigger and bigger. So every time you hear a completely disjointed album where all the tracks sound like they belong on a different album you can thank Illmatic. Oops.

A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory

Hip Hop and jazz are obviously highly linked genres, and a lot of hip hop artists use jazz samples, but only A Tribe Called Quest would get legendary jazz bassist Ron Carter as a feature. The interplay between rappers Q-Tip and Phife Dawg is pretty much the basis of A Tribe Called Quest's sound and they are at their tightest here trading verses casually and playing point with incredible skill. The production is probably the most meticulous since I reviewed Aja. Every sample has been scrubbed clean until there is no surface noise and the balance of melodic bass lines and punchy drums is unparalleled among hip hop records. The Low End Theory sounds perfectly clean and crisp, every element completely essential and placed perfectly where it belongs. It's an incredibly precise album and the production matches the tight and precise rapping.

Radiohead - OK Computer

Their sophomore record, The Bends, may have been an exquisite piece of alt rock but OK Computer is when Radiohead really started to flex their creativity. Stepping slightly outside of rock they experiment with some electronic sounds while still keeping the songs mostly fairly catchy. No one song is completely experimental or completely mainstream alternative. There's a balance here that is very delicate. Admittedly I think that the completely, unabashedly experimental Kid A is their best work, but there is something to be said for a good catchy hook too.

The Rolling Stones - Let It Bleed

This is the best Stones album by a narrow margin. From the psychedelic anxiety attack of Gimme Shelter to the country rock of You Got The Silver to the heavy blues of Midnight Rambler this has the best variety of any Stones album. Keith Richard's blues guitar solos are the best they will ever get and Mick Jagger really stretches out his vocal chords on the aggressive Monkey Man and the deranged serial killer energy of Midnight Rambler.

[rivetgoth]

Sorry for being a little bitchy but I’m gonna come back to this real quick to say like. I generally consider myself in a place of pretty material privilege most of the time but it’s a bit harrowing to consider that realistically literally every single thing I really care about has either been illegal in my lifetime, is currently illegal now, is still illegal in massive parts of the world, and/or faces massive amounts of systemic backlash and frequent pushes towards criminalization. This is everything from my hobbies to my relationships to my sexuality to my transition to the fact that I am alive and live where I do today on account of my family being war refugees from the Middle East. Sexuality, kink, medically & socially & legally transitioning to male, body modification, drugs, clubbing, nonmonogamy, writing novels with explicit controversial content, being mixed and Arab, so many of my friends being various types of queer, not straight, trans men and women, kinky, polyamorous, nonwhite, drug users, alternative artists, and/or immigrants, living my life for pleasure and for love and for magic…

Again, I don’t say this to suggest that I’m in any frequent or immediate material danger, I’m not. I’m very lucky that I am able to live how I do and be who I am happily and comfortably. But I say this to highlight the fact that as I’ve grown up I feel I’ve only become increasingly thoughtful of the genuine absurd inequities in society and how easy it is to slip into complacency as other people just living their lives are facing incredible subjugation and violence and marginalization just for existing. And I’m not like saying I’m some enlightened individual who is ideologically perfect (of course not), but more that it’s a real exercise in humility to consider how much of who I am and what matters to me is shaped by things that could get me or people like me killed and I really try to be cognizant of that.

And if I’m going to be a little mean I don’t know how many people on this website can say the same… I know there are all the kinda nasty jokes about how nobody on here goes outside or has sex or whatever and I don’t need to take cheap shots but I do think it’s saying the obvious that a lot of the people on this site by their own admission self-identify as like. Introverted individuals who don’t enjoy going out much, who are very nervous or anxious about doing anything wrong or stepping on toes, who are white, who either are not in a relationship or having sex or who are primarily having vanilla sex in monogamous relationships, those doing drugs and those who aren’t white and those who come from poverty and those going out and living explicitly queer or kinky or non normative lifestyles are a minority and I feel that it shows more and more as the user base I’ve been apart of for a decade+ age and settle into whatever path adulthood has in store for them. I actually specifically have been kind of in shock recently at the amount of generational wealth the user base of this website collectively seems to have—That poll where like 70% of respondents said their parents paid their college tuition. Or the one that asked how much people’s parents made and the winning results were 6 digits. or one I just saw where 90% (!!!!!) of respondents said they didn’t live in a neighborhood with any gang activity.

I kinda feel that for a lot of people, as teenagers they liked the aesthetics of revolution because it made them *feel* radical which was kind of just code for feeling like they were sticking it to their conservative parents. To be mean it made them feel like Hunger Games protagonists or something you know. And to be fair! These were people who were outcasts, they were weird introverts who probably were bullied or excluded at school, they felt powerless and angry, and LBR, just being a teenager sucks and denies you incredible amounts of freedom that adults are afforded so of course this image of rebellion is appealing. But I think a lot of these same people didn’t bring that energy into adulthood in earnest because it wasn’t a super earnest activity to begin with. It was like, online thought experiment, but as is the case with many teenage dreams it wasn’t really grounded in a material reality or ideology. And they still SEE themselves as rebellious revolutionaries because they’ve held onto the aesthetics of their youth; most of them aren’t explicitly becoming conservative. But it’s still just aesthetics. “How can I be conservative?” they ask, “I use they/them pronouns! I believe in equality! I believe oppression is wrong! I hate conservatives! I’m a tumblr user!”

“…But kids these days and the things they like are just more annoying then I ever was. But I keep accidentally reblogging from fascists, conservative religious fundamentalists, and TERFs. But when I walk down the street I am scared of strangers who look different than me. But I do have a gut reaction if someone tells me they have a lifestyle that isn’t the same as my own. But I do feel like there’s value in tradition and that modernity is less pure. But I do feel uncomfortable when I see a black person get angry. When I see a trans woman get mean. When I see a Palestinian person ask for money. When I see someone on drugs-” And it just goes unchecked and keeps getting worse. Idk.

I think it’s a more societal thing and this is just one microcosm but I do think the userbase of this site really has broadly become increasingly reactionary and socially conservative in its school of thought over the last ~4 years and it’s pretty bizarre to see. Especially because I’m not talking about there being some influx of new politically conservative users who migrated from 4chan or something, I mean the same cannibal horror sex fag punk blood crowd who have been populating this site are adopting unchecked reactionary tendencies as they age and now posts about like basic feminist theory can’t be made without a bunch of devils advocates in the comments who would’ve been right at home in like, the 2011 version of the internet where just the word “feminist” itself was a widely accepted insult. It’s really wild to see honestly. I do think some people have grown out of their teenage radicalism and now that they’ve settled into comfortable adulthood are no longer interested in disturbing (or really even, questioning) the status quo.

[mikazuki-juuichi]

Beastars, vol, 15 (English)

C. 125

- Here again we have Haru's family, and their veiled prejudices about mixed couples, disguised under a venner of courtesy. "It has nothing to do with us," says the father. But once they realize that the theme is right there at home, they try to play ignorant.

- Nevertheless, once it becomes impossible to pretend nothing is going on, they up for true politeness.

- The minister of reconciliation, who here presents a newspaper article in favor of exogamous relationship (as he argues it will benefict society, and especially economy), will appear again a bit later.

126

- And here is the minster in question, now censoring information about a killer on the loose. The problem with believing in funcionaries who claim to be benevolent.

- Then there is the police force, so specialized they are useless against an hybrid killer, of whose nature they have no hard data.

127

- In this society, it is bad manners to eat meat in public, but it's also looked down on to turn it down in private.

- For this businesswoman, her escape valve is clandestine sex parties. It is important to remember that these events are the origin of important changes int he world, such as the reivindication of Queer communities. Spaces thought to be prisons can become a perfect gestating ground for true rebellion.  

128 129

- Legosi, of course, has no idea how to navigate this adult underground, and so he winds up manipulated by everybody around him, till he finds himself facing death.

130 131 132

- Louis meets again with the Shishigumi, the lion mafia, who have fallen on hard times. Their headquarter is in huge disrepair, they are underfed, and their new boss is far more cruel to them than any of the previous ones. And in the end, as Free admits, there is no escape for them. Born and raised in this high-crime area, they don't know how to do anything else.

133

- Meanwhile, Legosi has a talk with his mother, Leano --who died years ago. Her tale reveals just how much a person might be damaged from social prejudices. She went so far as to reject her father and then to commit suicide out of shame of her mixed blood. A terrible fate.

*

**

[deathbedmoth-a]

@candyredmuses​ said: When did vaggie realize she was a lesbian and how did she feel about it? // let’s go lesbians let’s go

//Dani my beloved, the light of my life, the lizard on my leg, I have ic asks to answer and I am shoving them aside right now 

Let me set the fucking stage and take you all back, back, back to 13 year old Vaggie, having to sit outside the principal’s office because she got into a fight again. It’s just been a few years earlier that girls her age were getting into boys, so maybe she’s just a late bloomer. It’s not that weird, since it’s hard to even think about boys when you go to an all girls Catholic school and don’t know that many.

This older girl walks in and just kinda starts... waiting outside with her. She’s, like, 15 or something so she’s probably in high school, but she’s not wearing a uniform and school got out just a little bit ago, so that’s weird. Vaggie assumes she’s the older sister of whoever’s getting chewed out in the principal’s office while Vaggie waits her turn. Eventually the older girl strikes up conversation and Vaggie learns that: 1. She was right about who this girl was and why she is here 2. This girl had been ditching and that’s why she’s not in uniform, apparently she does it a lot 3. This awesome, rebellious older girl thinks Vaggie is the coolest for beating someone up like she did

13 year old Vaggie falls hard and fast and has no idea that that’s what’s going on. This girl is the fucking coolest and Vaggie wants to impress her so bad even though she barely even knows her. She manages to run into her more often and is completely swayed by this bad influence and all her delinquent friends. Eventually the feelings fade, but now she’s got all kinds of badass rebel girls she hangs out with who are??? so fucking pretty and cool????

Eventually one fantasy/’damn she looks good’ thought too many lets a now 14 year old Vaggie know she’s into women and that’s just one more reason for her family to see her as a disappointment but like... y’know what’s cool about being a rebel in a Catholic school? Being gay is just another act of rebellion that makes you cool amongst all your punk friends.

So uhh... mixed feelings kinda but she had some other, dubiously queer friends to fall back on that made things easier when the realization came.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 14

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Jagged's Shark! Doo doo doo doo doo doo!

Notes: Jagged’s shark! Doo doo doo doo doo doo! (@norakwami​ fault, there.) For real, though. Look up the lawyer’s first and last name for extra lulz. I research too much. And also I love puns. Also researched diplomatic immunity—Lila’s mom could refuse to waive it only for her bosses to override her and waive it anyway. And for serious crimes that’s sometimes the case. I wanted some Alya sugar here; yeah, she and multiple other people believed Lila and dismissed Marinette's concerns. The adults are the ones who deserve salt, though. Not a 14-year-old.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

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

They were still waiting for M. Damocles to finish contacting Mme. Rossi, Marinette having fallen asleep against Sabine and Adrien tempted to follow suit, when a commotion caught their attention. Marinette blinked awake at the shouting.

Curious, Adrien got up to peer around the corner. What he saw left him gaping.

Mme. Bustier’s class had spilled out of the classroom, and were watching as Lila and her mother yelled at each other in rapid-fire Italian, both red-faced. It was almost shocking how they met the stereotype of the hot-blooded Italian in their fervor.

Adrien watched, captivated, only vaguely aware when he was joined by the others, and when the lawyer knocked on the principal’s door and let him know about the “spectacle,” as she called it.

Marinette cried out, her face pale, pointing at a butterfly hovering near the scene. Alya took out her phone to record it, her face a mix of horror and excitement, as though she wasn’t sure she wanted an Akuma just now. Mylène started crying. Juleka moved protectively in front of Rose. Other classroom doors were opening as teachers and students alike came to investigate the commotion.

The Akuma hovered, seemingly uncertain as to which of the Rossis it wanted to go after. Unfortunately, Lila saw it, her expression brightening as she dashed toward it.

“I’ll show you all!”

Adrien gasped as the girl touched her pendant to the Akuma and a familiar butterfly-shaped mask appeared over her face. She would come after him and Marinette, and probably Luka and Kagami. And Jagged and Penny and the lawyer and Tom and Sabine… They were all defenseless. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get away quick enough to protect them.

As he stood there, frozen, Alya dropped her phone, rushed forward, and clocked Lila in the face. Once she was on the ground, she ripped the necklace from her neck. Mme. Mendeleiev rushed forward with a large beaker from her chemistry lab as Alya broke the pendant, capturing it and covering the opening with a book.

Marinette rushing past him unfroze Adrien, and he ran after her as she hugged a pale, panting Alya.

“Alya, that was amazing,” she breathed. “You saved everyone.”

“Mari— Oh, god, Mari. She wanted to be Akumatized. She was going to go after you and hurt you, and I just couldn’t—” Alya was sobbing in her arms, babbling. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I’ve been a terrible friend! You tried to tell me, and p-protect me and instead I believed someone I barely knew instead of you. I c-couldn’t let her hurt you!”

As Marinette reassured her, Mme. Mendeleiev told a pallid and shaking M. Damocles that she would put the Akuma somewhere Lila couldn’t reach it for Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with later.

Lila was keening softly on the ground, her nose obviously broken with this punch, and Adrien couldn’t help but feel a bit of schadenfreude at the sight. Her mother seemed frozen in shock, not even moving forward to comfort her daughter.

“Alya got the Akuma on video,” he murmured, thinking aloud. “So there’s video of Lila going after it to be voluntarily Akumatized.”

Nino picked up Alya’s phone, checking to see that nothing was broken. He pressed the screen to stop the recording. “Yeah, dude. She totally did. Sabrina, you might wanna call your dad. This is big.”

Sabrina immediately pulled out her phone and retreated into the classroom; Chloé blocked the door to make sure Lila didn’t try to stop her, though it seemed unnecessary—the girl gave no indication she’d heard.

M. Damocles stepped forward toward Mme. Rossi. “We will need to have a conversation about your daughter, but perhaps that will need to wait until after her arrest.”

Mme. Rossi turned white, eyes wide. “A-arrest?!”

“Your daughter just knowingly and willingly attempted to aid and abet a terrorist, Mme. Rossi,” the lawyer said, not unkindly. “She will face far more than just the lawsuits by M. Stone, M. Dupain, and Mme. Cheng.”

She stared at the lawyer as though uncomprehending.

“Of course, you could claim diplomatic immunity for your daughter, but it is likely she will at least be expelled from France, though France may choose to refer this matter to the Court of Justice of the European Union, as anti-terrorism laws extend beyond our borders.”

“Who are you?” Mme. Rossi finally demanded.

The lawyer smiled her best shark smile. “I am the head of M. Stone’s legal team, Maître Eulalie Reschignier.”

Adrien tried not to smile when he realized her name was almost a pun.

“My daughter has diplomatic immunity from all lawsuits, as I’m sure you are aware.”

The shark smile became a bit toothy. “We’re aware of that, but also aware that she can be expelled from France at the discretion of the French government.”

Whatever response Lila’s mother intended to give was interrupted by the arrival of Lieutenant Raincomprix and a retinue of other officers.

Nino stepped forward and played the video for the officers. Afterward, Roger approached the still-crying Alya to explain they’d have to take in her phone as evidence until the file could be processed. She just nodded, accepting the temporary loss; she hadn’t let go of Marinette yet.

Then he turned to Mme. Rossi. “We’ll have her injuries checked at the station, but it appears your daughter was attempting to voluntarily become an Akuma. While Akuma victims are never prosecuted, this is a very different issue.”

Mme. Rossi balked. “My daughter has diplomatic immunity!”

“We’re aware,” Officer Raincomprix said with a nod. “Since she has diplomatic immunity, she’ll be moved to a facility outside of Paris pending her likely expulsion back to Italy. Since she attempted to aid and abet a terrorist, your home country will decide whether to waive her diplomatic immunity, but regardless she is too dangerous to keep in Paris.”

That silenced Mme. Rossi, as she realized the limits of the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations.

Several officers helped Lila off the ground and led her down the stairs toward the school entrance, followed closely by Mme. Rossi.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief at their exit. He doubted they’d ever have to deal with Lila again—at least not in person. And he was willing to bet Italy would take a long hard look at her. Meeting Marinette’s eyes, he could see she was having similar balming thoughts; it’d take them all a while to heal from this—especially if the tears still streaming down Alya’s cheeks and the guilt in her eyes were any indication—but they’d move past this somehow, and hopefully their relationships would all be strengthened.

M. Damocles cleared his throat. “Are we finished here?”

Jagged’s smile was almost malicious. “I don’t think so. Eulalie?”

Maître Reschignier turned to the principal. “It seems Mlle. Rossi’s removal from class will no longer be necessary. Instead, we seek anti-bullying and anti-harassment training for all school personnel in addition to the investigation into the treatment of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien couldn’t help but notice the elated smile that graced Mme. Mendeleiev’s face briefly, taking years off her appearance, before disappearing under her usual scowl. She, at least, was clearly not opposed to any of that. Mme. Bustier, however, looked displeased—and given that she’d rolled over multiple times to enable both Chloé and Lila, he wasn’t surprised.

The lawyer smiled, this time sincerely, at Adrien and Marinette. “I believe M. Agreste and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng would be best served returning to their class while M. Stone, Mme. Rolling, M. Dupain, and Mme. Cheng iron out the specifics with you in your office, M. Damocles.”

“Ah… Of course, Maître Reschignier.” The principal pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his brow. “That seems best.”

Mme. Bustier gestured to enter the classroom. As Adrien moved past the lawyer, she murmured, “I do hope your father will present more of a challenge, M. Agreste.”

He couldn’t hold in his laughter—oh, Adrien hoped she wrecked Gabriel Agreste.

And that he had a front-row seat when she did. And maybe some popcorn.

[linkedsoul]

A NaNoWriMo Project: THE VIOLIN THIEVES

Genre: Dystopia / Urban fantasy / Queer Age range: YA POV: 1st person Aim: 50k+ words  Themes: classical music / family / wlw / strangers with beef to lovers / heists / denouncing extreme capitalistic system / public uproar / marginalized identities

New York, Manhattan, 2120. When 17 y/o Sam Knight finds a discarded violin case on a rooftop, she can't imagine it contains a famous Stradivarius, stolen from the personal collection of the Minister of Music by the Rebellion - and even less that it hosts a mysterious, supernatural creature: a Lunar Parasite. 

With her newfound powers and the help of violin prodigy and Rebellion member Cassiopeia Vu, Sam decides to strike against the Minister of Music and the extra-capitalistic Profit System that rules the country.

And for this, while a public uproar against the Minister of Music rises in the streets, Sam and Cass decide to steal more of his violins.

Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list!

(Some writer rambling under the cut)

It’s my first time doing NaNo seriously, plotting and outlining my project from the beginning to the end (because I want to get better at plotting and outlining) and giving myself the goal to write a bit everyday! I want to be able to finish my projects faster, so I thought NaNo was a good occasion. 

I have taken a lot of lead on SoQ, so this won’t impact the updates on Patreon! It’s just me taking a break from SoQ for a month and trying my hands at NaNo with a brand new project. 

(I wanted it to be sci-fi but quite failed at including the “futuristic” or “technologic” side of it. So it’s just.... a bit in the future but things are mostly the same. Yeah. I found a reason for that, but once the first draft is (hopefully) done, I might rework the worldbuilding and the timeline.)

TVT stemmed in my head one sleepless night when I arrived in Korea, as “sci-fi meddled with urban fantasy on classical music background (with queer)” and developed from there. Now it’s like a mix between a modern Robin Hood and Venom with classical music and diversity! 

[faraway-wanderer]

QUEER YA READS happy pride month here’s a list of lots of queer YA books!!

-          The Henna Wars- Abida Jaigirdar When Nishat comes out to her parents, they say she can be anyone she wants—as long as she isn’t herself. Because Muslim girls aren’t lesbians. Nishat doesn’t want to hide who she is, but she also doesn’t want to lose her relationship with her family. And her life only gets harder once a childhood friend walks back into her life. Flávia is beautiful and charismatic and Nishat falls for her instantly. Amidst sabotage and school stress, their lives get more tangled—but Nishat can’t quite get rid of her crush on Flávia, and realizes there might be more to her than she realized

-          Red, White and Royal Blue- Casey Mcquinston   First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

-          You should see me in a crown- Leah Johnson Liz Lighty has always believed she's too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it's okay -- Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor.But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen

-          Tell me How you Really Feel- Aminah Mae Safi Sana Khan is a cheerleader and a straight A student. She's the classic (somewhat obnoxious) overachiever determined to win.Rachel Recht is a wannabe director who's obsesssed with movies and ready to make her own masterpiece. As she's casting her senior film project, she knows she's found the perfect lead - Sana.There's only one problem. Rachel hates Sana. Rachel was the first girl Sana ever asked out, but Rachel thought it was a cruel prank and has detested Sana ever since.

-          Like a love story- Abdi Nazemian It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.

-          I Wish You All the Best- Mason Deaver At turns heartbreaking and joyous, I Wish You All the Best is both a celebration of life, friendship, and love, and a shining example of hope in the face of adversity.

-          The Falling in Love Montage- Ciara Smyth Saoirse doesn’t believe in love at first sight or happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name and not in a care home with early onset dementia. A condition that Saoirse may one day turn out to have inherited. So she’s not looking for a relationship. She doesn’t see the point in igniting any romantic sparks if she’s bound to burn out. But after a chance encounter at an end-of-term house party, Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.

-          The Fascinators- Andrew Eliopulos Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia—and their time together in their school's magic club—to see him through to graduation.But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs.

-          The Dark Tide- Alicia Jaskina The Wicked Deep meets A Curse So Dark and Lonely in this gripping, dark fairy-tale fantasy about two girls who must choose between saving themselves, each other, or their sinking island city

-          Summer of Salt – Katrina Leno Georgina Fernweh waits with growing impatience for the tingle of magic in her fingers—magic that has been passed down through every woman in her family. Her twin sister, Mary, already shows an ability to defy gravity. But with their eighteenth birthday looming at the end of this summer, Georgina fears her gift will never come.

-          Sawkill Girls- Claire Legrand Marion: the new girl. Awkward and plain, steady and dependable. Weighed down by tragedy and hungry for love she’s sure she’ll never find. Zoey: the pariah. Luckless and lonely, hurting but hiding it. Aching with grief and dreaming of vanished girls. Maybe she’s broken—or maybe everyone else is. Val: the queen bee. Gorgeous and privileged, ruthless and regal. Words like silk and eyes like knives, a heart made of secrets and a mouth full of lies.

-          The Priory of the Orange Tree- Samantha Shannon A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens. The House of Berethnet has ruled Inys for a thousand years. Still unwed, Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm from destruction – but assassins are getting closer to her door. Ead Duryan is an outsider at court. Though she has risen to the position of lady-in-waiting, she is loyal to a hidden society of mages. Ead keeps a watchful eye on Sabran, secretly protecting her with forbidden magic. Across the dark sea, Tané has trained to be a dragonrider since she was a child, but is forced to make a choice that could see her life unravel.

-          I was Born for this- Alice Oseman For Angel Rahimi, life is only about one thing: The Ark – a pop-rock trio of teenage boys who are currently taking the world by storm. Being part of The Ark’s fandom has given her everything – her friendships, her dreams, her place in the world. Jimmy Kaga-Ricci owes everything to The Ark too. He’s their frontman – and playing in a band is all he’s ever dreamed of doing. It’s just a shame that recently everything in his life seems to have turned into a bit of a nightmare.

-          Summer Bird Blue  Akemi Dawn Bowman- Bowman’s sophomore novel follows Rumi, a young musician plagued with grief and survivor’s guilt after her younger sister is killed in a car crash. Her mother sends her to liver with her aunt in Hawaii, and is also now mourning the loss of the music she would create with her sister and is unable to recapture her passion. As she navigates her loss, and feelings of abandonment from her mother, Rumi is also starting new relationships with neighbors, one a cute, easygoing surfer boy, and the other a irascible 80-year-old crankypants, while also becoming comfortable with her aromantic and asexual feelings.An immersive aromantic, asexual journey through grief and understanding.

-          Felix Ever after- Kacen Callender   a novel about a transgender teen grappling with identity and self-discovery while falling in love for the first time.

-          The Stars and The Blackness Between Them - Junauda Petrus Audre and Mabel, Black girls who find romance just in time for everything to fall even further apart.

-          By any means necessary- Candice Montgomery By Any Means Neccesary dives into the intersection of race and sexuality through the lens of its main character, Torrey, a gay Black college student.

-          Her Royal Highness -Rachel Hawkins- When Millie Quint discovers her best friend-turned-girlfriend has been kissing someone else, she decides to get as far away from her as possible – by going to boarding school on the opposite side of the globe. The only issue? Millie’s new roomate is the actual princess of Scotland.

-          Tash Hearts Tolstoy - Kathryn Omsbee, Natasha Zelenka (Tash), is a serious fangirl of Leo Tolstoy and a rising YouTube star with her webseries Unhappy Families, a modern-day adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Vlog, Tea with Tash. When a famous vlogger gives a shout out to the series, it goes viral. Now she, along with the cast and crew, are finding what it means to be a hit sensation and are managing the adoration, and the trolls, coming their way. Tash, a romantic asexual, has had a long time crush on the hit vlogger star Thom, who, as her online popular grows, so does Thom’s attention. Amidst the fame and romance, Tash is also dealing with her older sister creating distance, her parents announcing a new sibling on the way, college applications, the impending end of the series, and the big “What’s next.”An asexual romantic comedy coming of age.

-          Full Disclosure- Camryn Garratt Camryn Garrett’s debut novel follows a Black, HIV-positive teen as she explores her first romantic relationship. There are few books that discuss what it’s like to live with HIV, especially those that are light, relatable, and told through the lens of a young Black girl.

-          The Black Flamingo- Dean Atta Atta pens a coming-of-age story about a boy accepting his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, but then finds a place where he belongs as a drag artist named The Black Flamingo.

-          Juniper Leaves- Jaz Joyner   Kinky-haired  Juniper Bray used to believe in magic, until she lost her best friend: her grandmother. Now this 15-year-old shy girl is headed to her father's research trip on a farm hundreds of miles away, with a family she barely knows and the opposite of a best friend, her new arch nemesis, Bree Mckinney. As if she wasn't miserable enough. Little does she know the next few months Juniper will discover magical powers she never knew she had, get a crush on a girl she never knew she'd like and well, quite frankly, save the world.

-          Crier’s War - Nina Varela ‘In a world where humans are dominated by superior Automae, one human girl called Ayla takes the role of handmaiden to the Automae Lady Crier in order to help the human rebellion. But to Ayla’s horror, she finds herself falling for Crier.’

-          Queen of Coin and Whispers  Helen Corcoran -When a teenage queen inherits her uncle’s bankrupt kingdom, she brings with her a new spymaster – a girl who only accepted the role to avenge her murdered father. But faced with enemies at every turn, the two learn to rely on no one but each other . . . though it may bring their downfall.

-          Huntress- Malinda Lo – Ill fortune has befallen the land, and two girls have been tasked with the mission of setting things right. As Kaede and Taisin journey to the city of the Fairy Queen, adventure and romance awaits.

-          This Song Is (Not) for You - Laura Nowlin- This is not your usual love triangle. Ramona has been in love with her best friend and bandmate Sam for a long time, Sam has also been in love Ramona. When Tom joins the band, he completes them. Now Ramona is starting to have feelings for Tom, and those feelings are reciprocated. Tom is a romantic asexual, whose asexuality is fully explored

-          Seven Tears at High Tide-  C.B. Lee – After Kevin Luong drops, yup, seven tears into the sea, he ends up rescuing a boy from the waters. It’s love at first sight for Morgan who, unknown to Kevin, is a Selkie.

-          Loveless -Alice Oseman- (out on the 9th July!!) Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day.As she starts university with her best friends, Pip and Jason, in a whole new town far from home, Georgia’s ready to find romance, and with her outgoing roommate on her side and a place in the Shakespeare Society, her ‘teenage dream’ is in sight. But when her romance plan wreaks havoc amongst her friends, Georgia ends up in her own comedy of errors, and she starts to question why love seems so easy for other people but not for her. With new terms thrown at her – asexual, aromantic – Georgia is more uncertain about her feelings than ever.

-          The Last Beginning- Lauren James-  (you probably need to read the next together first which I HIGHLY recommend) Sixteen years ago, after a scandal that rocked the world, teenagers Katherine and Matthew vanished without a trace. Now Clove Sutcliffe is determined to find her long lost relatives.But where do you start looking for a couple who seem to have been reincarnated at every key moment in history? Who were Kate and Matt? Why were they born again and again? And who is the mysterious Ella, who keeps appearing at every turn in Clove's investigation? For Clove, there is a mystery to solve in the past and a love to find in the future, and failure could cost the world everything.

[dvp95]

is that as good as it gets?

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: teen & up

warnings: none

tags: memory loss, amnesia, fluff, introspection, established relationship, some gender-y discussion

word count: 9,101

sequel to still the best, more or less (which you can read on ao3 or here on tumblr) and so easy to come back into you (on ao3 and tumblr) and written for the lovely @intoapuddle​ <33333 happy belated birthday pal!

read on ao3 or here!

Phil loves his parents. He always has, even in the worst of the puberty-fuelled rebellion. Well, alright, 'rebellion'. There were a lot of long nights spent with a book and torch or his GameBoy under the covers, heart pounding in his ears as he listened for any sign of his parents coming to check on him, but he doesn't think that counts.

Even when things were at their hardest, he still loved his parents. He loved them when his dad kept asking after girls with absolutely no inclination that there were other things he could be asking in order to know his son better. He loved them when his mum pulled him aside and said his new hairstyle made him look 'a little girly, love'. He loved them when he was grieving for a friend and they didn't know what to say, how to help.

Right now, he loves them. Beneath the fear and the guilt and the anxiety and the frustration that's been his whole weekend, there is a solid bedrock of love and trust that will never crack.

"They keep treating me like I'm twenty," Phil complains, quiet because he isn't sure how thin the walls are in this new house.

"You kind of are. Like, in a way."

Dan's voice is so comforting, even with the swirling mix of emotions that Phil is dealing with right now. It helps to ground him, that soft, posh, sleepy voice.

"Yeah," Phil says. He rolls over, stretches out, because even a double bed feels too big without a second set of too-long limbs. "But it's like, they're not even acting like I'm an adult. Mum's been asking how I'm feeling every twenty minutes and dad called me 'kiddo' at dinner."

"They're doing their best," says Dan. He's five hundred kilometers away, on a different island entirely, but if Phil closes his eyes he can pretend they're just murmuring across the distance between their pillows.

"I know they're doing their best, babe," Phil sighs. "It's just that this was so easy for you."

Dan laughs. He doesn't have to be quiet the same way Phil does, nobody trying to sleep on the other side of his headboard, but he matches Phil's volume anyway.

"I'm sorry," says Dan. "Did you just say this has been easy for me? I'll have to refer you to my therapist."

Somehow, Phil smiles. He doesn't feel like smiling at all, so exhausted by the role he's been playing with his family, but Dan always seems to have that effect on him. "I mean, you just treated me like a regular person right out the gate. They're acting like I'm gonna break."

"Maybe you will. I've seen how you stumble on those cliffs."

Phil chuckles, low, and then sighs into the phone. He's getting more comfortable with having the flat rectangle between his ear and shoulder. "I miss you."

"Mm," Dan hums. It sounds like he's smiling. Phil has never wanted to be somewhere so desperately. "Miss you, stupid."

"Are we always this bad when one of us is away?" Phil asks. He wishes he was talking on an old landline, wants to twirl the cord through his fingers while he and Dan whisper to each other. It's better than what his fingers are doing now, which is reaching out on reflex for a warm, citrus-and-mint body that isn't there.

"Yeah," Dan says with unabashed simplicity.

"I'm glad," says Phil. He feels a slight itch under his skin, unsettling him, but he fights it down by repeating, "I'm really glad. Like... I'm glad I'll still feel this way about you ten years from now."

"You're such a sap," Dan says, fondness seeping out of every word. "Normally you just call me a rat and ask if I'm eating."

"Are you eating, rat?"

The loud bark of laughter down the line makes Phil's toes curl with happiness. He loves that sound, loves making Dan laugh in such an unrestrained way. "Yes, Phil, I'm eating. Probably not as good as you are, I'm sure mum's got you eating like a king."

It's still so strange to hear someone else call Phil's parents 'mum' and 'dad' - someone who isn't Martyn, obviously. From everything that Phil has learned about Dan over the past two and a half months and every tiny detail he's remembered, Phil is certain that the titles were something his parents insisted on. He doubts Dan would have just started saying them on his own, even with all the social grace he sometimes lacks.

That makes him feel warm, too. He's never exactly thought his parents would hate him for who he is, but. He hasn't been a hundred percent sure.

Phil doesn't think that anybody is a hundred percent sure that their parents will love them the exact same way if they bring home someone who's the same gender. He loves his parents, he trusts them, and he's still been terrified about letting them in on the life he was living at uni.

They know Dan, though. They ask after him every time they talk to Phil, call him whenever Phil doesn't answer his phone, tell him to think of them as 'mum' and 'dad'. Like he's part of the family. Like it's all the same to them what Dan is, as long as he's making Phil happy.

"You're sure you don't want to come up?" Phil asks, fully aware of how needy he sounds.

"Positive. It's important for you and your parents to get to know each other, like, as you are now. I'm afraid I'd just distract all of you with my wit and charm."

That's probably true. Phil huffs another sigh, anyway. He pulls a pillow closer to him, wraps an arm around it. "But I miss you."

"Christ, Phil," Dan says lightly. "You been drinking or something?"

"Am I not allowed to miss you?" Phil grumbles.

"Course you can miss me," says Dan. "I miss you when you're in another fucking room of the apartment, sometimes. I just haven't heard you say it so much since we first started dating."

Phil thinks that's a little unfair. It still feels like they are in that honeymoon stage of their relationship, to him.

He wonders how long it's going to take before his slow trickle of memories and natural progression of time team up to make him as settled in their relationship as Dan is. It's almost disheartening, knowing that Dan doesn't want him as desperately as he wants Dan. It's a different kind of want, of affection, and it's a kind that Phil has never experienced before. He's almost afraid to reach that point.

"I'll be quieter about it, then."

"Don't you dare," Dan says, and Phil laughs. The knot in his chest starts to ease.

"Should sleep," says Phil. "Mum wants to go for a walk before we eat breakfast, what the hell. Who walks?"

Dan laughs. "Be grateful Martyn isn't there, or the walk would turn into a hike before you could say," he makes a dramatic wheezing noise instead of finishing with a word, and Phil has to cover his mouth with a hand to contain giggles.

"You're so annoying," he whispers. He wonders if Dan can hear the emotion behind the words, the same way Phil has figured out that when Dan calls him stupid, it means 'I love you'.

"Yeah," Dan agrees warmly. Phil thinks, yeah. He can hear it. "Go to sleep, Lester."

--

"Oh, honey, you remember Mrs. Oliver, down the street?" his mum asks, bustling around the kitchen and waving Phil away anytime he tries to jump in and help. It's starting to get to him, a bit. He's not an invalid.

"No, mum," says Phil. He wonders if he sounds as annoyed as he feels. "I don't know any of your neighbours. I don't even know mine."

If he does sound annoyed, his mum breezes past it. "Right, of course. That's probably a good thing, to be honest with you, love - she's a right witch. Just last week..."

Phil zones out almost immediately. He loves his parents so, so much, but they have no idea how to act around him. His mum has been plying him with cakes and giving him neighbourhood gossip, doting like he's sick, and his dad has been watching him like he's a ticking time bomb.

That might actually be true. Phil had only clung to his composure by a thread when they decided to tell him, conversationally, about his dad's health issues. Just dropped the C word with no hesitation.

Being with his parents is nice, but he wishes he had Dan at his side. Even Martyn would be better than nothing. He needs something to dilute the smothering worry and death bombshells they've been putting in Phil's lap all weekend.

Phil has been counting down the hours until he can be back in the noise and bustle of London, far away from all this anxiety. He has never exactly been outdoorsy, and as much as he appreciates the beautiful views here, as much as he appreciates his lovely parents, he just wants to go home.

It's strange. By all intents and purposes, he should feel more comfortable around his parents than he does around Dan. He's known them his whole life, and twelve years isn't nearly enough to erase everything they know and love about each other. He hadn't known a single thing about Dan when he woke up in their shared kitchen, but. That doesn't seem to matter.

London isn't the only thing that feels like home to Phil. It isn't just the rolling hills and the sound of the sea making him unsettled, it's the lack of a big hand on the small of his back, guiding him away from a tripping hazard.

The itch hasn't gone away. Phil keeps expecting it to fade, the more he and Dan get to know each other as they are now, but it's still there. Persistent.

Growing up, Phil never expected to be someone that was scared of commitment. He'd always wanted what his parents had, after all, even after he came to terms with the fact that he might never be able to be married the way they were. Then, he actually started to try and date boys.

Phil doesn't fancy himself an expert on gay culture. He didn't join the society at uni or anything, has never read a queer theory book in his life. So he has no idea if this is, like, typical, but it turned out that gay boys - at Phil's university, in any case - weren't interested in dates. They only really cared about hooking up.

Honestly, Phil has never wanted anything more than he wanted to go on a proper date with someone he wasn't pretending to be attracted to, but it's always been easier to just act like those desires aren't there.

The idea of getting married, now, is terrifying instead of a pipe dream. He isn't sure when that happened.

Somehow, he'd become one of those boys who'd hurt him in the beginning, who called him the wrong name unapologetically or reminded him not to wake up their flatmates on his way out. He'd finally understood the appeal - he couldn't get hurt again if he didn't care again.

He doesn't want to hurt Dan, though. This self-built fear is his to deal with, something he's positive that 2019 Phil has long since gotten over.

"Mum," he says, cutting into whatever she's been saying about her neighbour while he sulks.

She doesn't seem very bothered by the interruption. She gives him a quizzical sort of smile as she mixes flour and eggs together. As if they need more bloody cakes in this house. "Yes, dear?"

"You like Dan, right?" he asks.

It feels like a pointless question. He knows the answer already.

Still, his mum doesn't laugh at him for asking. She smiles, more warmly, and leans her hip against the breakfast bar he's sat at. Phil's damaged brain supplies him with a hundred moments just like this one, watching his mum bake up a storm for no reason besides keeping her boys fed and happy.

"We love Dan," she assures him. Phil notices the 'we' statement, so caught up in the way Dan uses them as he's been. "He's a lovely boy."

"Even though he swears a lot?" Phil jokes weakly. He can't bring himself to ask the question he really wants to.

His mum gives him a look, like she knows exactly what he isn't saying. It's uncanny, how she's always been able to see through him. She'd had a blind spot, sure, but Phil can't put that on her shoulders when he'd done all he could to keep it under wraps.

"Daniel is lovely," she repeats, turning back to her mixing bowl. "He's a good man who takes care of you, dear, what else could we ask for? Besides, he's no worse than your brother."

Phil doesn't think that's true, exactly, as he's heard Dan come out with curses that Martyn probably doesn't know exist, but he isn't about to argue the point with her. Not when he hears the words she isn't saying.

They really don't mind. His mum and dad are happy for him, they have Dan calling them 'mum' and 'dad', after all. His brother doesn't bat an eye when his partner kisses him at the dinner table. They don't just tolerate this part of Phil's life - they embrace it. They embrace Dan, the man Phil had fallen in love with.

He doesn't think he's quite there. Not yet. He's never been in love before, so he's sure he'll notice when his feelings tumble into that.

"I miss him," he tells his mum's back, because he can say things like that to her now. That's not something he's going to take for granted, no matter how stressed they've been making him.

"You'll be home soon, love," she hums.

Home. Also known as the space where he slots his knees into the backs of Dan's and buries his nose against Dan's soft curls. He'll be there soon.

--

"How are you feeling, actually?"

Phil's dad looks up from the malfunctioning radiator and gives Phil a thin smile. "How are you feeling, actually?"

"Touché," Phil mumbles. He's not helping with the repairs so much as he's sitting on the cold cement floor and passing tools to his dad when he asks for them. He wonders who's going to do this sort of thing when he and Dan buy a home.

Great, now that itch is back. All he wanted was to know if this is something he should be learning how to do. They've probably got enough money to pay someone else to do it, Phil supposes.

Dan still hasn't let him look at his bank account or their joint account, which would bother Phil if he had any idea of how to handle money at all. His parents have taught him the basics of budgeting and investing, sure, but he doubts that they've properly prepared him at this scale. He's happy to leave all that to Dan for now.

"I'm feeling good, actually," his dad says. "Still kicking, and all."

"Same," says Phil. Neither of them laugh.

A quiet falls over them again as his dad works. Phil leans against the wall and tries not to get frustrated by the little glances his dad keeps sending his way.

He understands that they're worried. He'd be going out of his mind if this had happened to someone he loves. It's really starting to get to him, though, the undivided attention on his health when he is already so anxious about it to begin with. Don't they know that he's doing the best he can?

"Does it bother you that I don't know how to do this?" Phil asks. He wonders if he will ever be able to say what he means to the people he loves the most, to ask what is on his mind instead of layering it under something innocuous.

Being with Dan has been helping him with that, he thinks, but something about being around his parents always makes him revert back to a shy, uncertain teenager.

His dad hums thoughtfully and shakes his head. "No, you were never much into this sort of thing."

"And that doesn't... I dunno, disappoint you?"

"I could never be disappointed with you, kid," his dad says, almost incredulous with it. Like this is something Phil should already know. Like he's said it a million times. Phil can't speak for the past twelve years, but he knows damn well that he hadn't heard that enough, growing up.

"I'm just not," says Phil, scuffing at the floor with his socked foot. "Dunno. Not much of a man, I guess. I'm in my thirties, aren't I? I should be a man by now."

"You are a man, Philip," his dad says. "There's no right way to be a man."

It takes a lot to make him cry, but this conversation is getting to Phil in a spot he forgot was sore.

"Yeah," he says instead. "Need the torch?"

His dad lets the topic drop almost gratefully. Phil isn't sure if he's happy for that or not.

The frustration has been climbing up his spine all weekend. It's not exactly fair of him to be getting mildly annoyed by everything they've said, not when they're only trying to help. He takes a few deep breaths - in for four, hold for seven, out for eight, just like Dan taught him - and tries to pull a good mood back around him. For his dad's sake, if nothing else.

--

Phil has to get out of the house for a bit on his own, despite the chilly winds coming in like the waves and the lack of good cell signal.

He walks the same path he'd gone down with his parents that morning, pulling the fleece jacket tighter around his body. It's one of Dan's, something he'd smuggled into his bag and hoped Dan wouldn't miss.

The view here is unparalleled, really. Phil finds his breath catching several times, and only some of those are from exertion. He takes photos with his phone, because he's still clumsy with most of the controls, but he's figured out this one easily enough.

His phone doesn't have any social media apps on it, which he's not about to try and correct. Dan deleted them for a reason. So Phil opens his texts and sends a couple of the better photos to Dan.

The signal fails. The pictures don't go through. Phil wants to go home.

--

"This feels familiar," Phil says, grinning at his shoddy laptop camera.

"Does it?" Dan's voice is a bit distorted, his face more pixelated than Phil would like, but he's smiling so wide that Phil can't find it in himself to mind.

"Yeah," Phil says simply.

The sofa isn't very comfortable compared to the bed upstairs, but Phil had figured this would be better to not wake his parents up. He folds one leg under himself to try and find a position that doesn't make him feel hunched over his laptop like he's still a student.

Even through the mediocre quality of the webcam and internet connection, Dan looks good. He's wearing a wide-necked jumper and his curls are still soft and pushed off his face, like he hasn't bothered to do anything with them today. Phil wants to reach through the screen and run his fingers through them.

"Wonder why," Dan says in that teasing way he does when he knows something Phil doesn't.

Some days, that tone gets to Phil. When he's feeling anxious and frustrated with himself about all the things he can't remember, the last thing he needs is that tone.

Today, though, it makes him grin. He fiddles with the wireless earphones he's still getting the hang of and murmurs, "Tell me why."

"We used to do this for hours when I lived with my parents," says Dan. He messes with his curls to make them fall with more purpose, probably looking at himself in the screen instead of at Phil. "For, like, almost the whole first year we knew each other."

"You look fine, you dork," Phil says. He's watching Dan with an absent smile that, when he glimpses it in the corner of his screen, makes his breath catch. He's never seen that look on his own face before, doesn't even know what he'd label it as. Dan huffs a laugh, and Phil turns his attention back to him instead.

The lighting is low in Dan's room - in their room - but Phil can make out the warm colour of his eyes.

"You always think I look fine," says Dan, which doesn't exactly sound like a complaint. He leaves his hair alone, though. "Which is useless, since I know you have no taste."

"Is this about the carpet again?" Phil asks, exasperated.

"I just don't understand why you don't see the value of a good rug anymore," Dan whines. "It took me four years to convince you."

"Hardwood is cold on your feet in the morning and - you know what," says Phil, fighting back a laugh, "I'm not having this conversation again. We can duke it out when it's relevant, we aren't buying a house right now."

Dan grins at him. "I'll win."

Probably. Phil is stubborn, though, and he's not about to take everything Dan says about his changed tastes as fact when he could easily use that to win arguments.

"It's not relevant," Phil repeats. "You know what is relevant? I kind of remember Skyping you."

Dan is still and quiet for so long that Phil thinks he's frozen at first. Then he blinks. "You do?" he asks, voice careful.

"Kind of," Phil says, not wanting to get Dan's hopes up. He pulls a face, scratches at his jaw. "It's hard to explain. I don't remember doing it, I just remember that I have done it. Does that make sense?"

"No," says Dan, blunt as always. He smiles weakly. "Explain it to me?"

It's hard for Dan, Phil knows it is, but he makes such an effort all the time that Phil has, tentatively, attempted to do the same. He's not always comfortable talking about his innermost thoughts, since giving voice to things makes them more real. For Dan, he'll try.

"It's not like a flashback or anything," Phil says slowly. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing, but he also doesn't want to make Dan think he's still holding back. "That's not the way this has worked for me."

"I know," says Dan.

Phil traces shapes on his own knee, wishing he could be touching Dan instead. "It's more like... I just know."

"Right," Dan says, and Phil can hear the way he's holding something back. Disappointment? Excitement? "Kinda like déjà vu?"

"I guess so, except it isn't, like, disorienting. I just saw you on my screen and I was like, yeah, I've done this before." Phil feels like he's explaining this badly, like it's all coming out wrong. "I dunno, babe. I'm sorry it isn't more."

"You're," is all Dan says. He looks offscreen, takes a couple of deep breaths.

Maybe it's the familiarity of this whole thing, or the sound of Dan's shaky breathing in his ears, but Phil has the sudden certainty that he's looking at a Dan who is about to start crying. A Dan who has cried on Skype with him before, Phil knows that, too, somewhere deep in his gut.

"Hey," Phil says softly. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to apologise for," Dan tells him, rather more sharply than Phil thinks it intends to come out. Dan grimaces. "Fuck. Sorry. I'm not - I'm not upset with you, Phil."

"You look upset," says Phil. The physical ache he's been carrying around all weekend has intensified, makes him think he could swim back to Dan if it would shorten the distance quicker. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Dan considers it for a moment. That on its own is a step in the right direction, Dan no longer brushing everything he's feeling off with a joke and a kiss. Phil taps an erratic rhythm against his knee while he waits for Dan to make up his mind. Eventually, he shakes his pretty head. "Not tonight. Can we talk about it when you're home, maybe?"

That's progress. Phil has to remind himself of that every time they make a point to communicate, every time he says or does something that makes Dan freeze up for a moment.

"Of course," Phil says. "Talk to me about hardwood floors some more. You're still wrong, but I'll hear you out."

Dan looks relieved, and Phil doesn't let that get to him. Neither of them are avoiding emotional conversations outright. Phil can remember the way Dan likes his eggs cooked, even though he can't remember learning that. Dan hasn't even eaten eggs in the past couple months, on a vegan kick that Phil doesn't understand, but Phil knows exactly how to cook them to make Dan grin at him across a breakfast bar.

Slow progress is still progress, Dan's therapist says. Phil is inclined to agree with her.

--

Leaving his parents is bittersweet. Phil always wants to spend more time with them, knows he'll never quite grow out of the momma's boy phase, but they've been getting under his skin all weekend.

Phil does wonder if that's a regular part of being a proper adult, the desire to cling to gained independence, or if it's just him feeling smothered and wistful for Dan.

He gives them tight, lingering hugs anyway, makes them promise to come visit him before Christmas. He'll feel better about that, he thinks. Having Dan around makes it all so much easier that he can't imagine living a life without him, now. He fits into the places where the rest of Phil should be, allows Phil to settle into shape around him.

It's early when Phil gets on the plane, early enough that he gets to watch the sun rise until he's dropped back under the line of clouds that seem to permanently hover over England. The sun still hasn't peeked out by the time Phil unlocks his front door and lets himself in, juggling his bag and keys and wallet and proceeding to drop them all on the floor of the entryway. There aren't any echoing noises from deeper into the flat, so Phil thinks it's safe to assume that Dan is still dead to the world.

Sure enough, he finds Dan spread out in the middle of their bed, his bare back rising and falling steadily with sleep. The blankets are in disarray, half underneath him and half wrapped around his legs.

Phil smiles. It feels like something settles into place inside of him just looking at the expanse of Dan's skin. He undresses to his pants and doesn't bother digging around for something else to wear, not when there's some necessary snuggling to be done. The cool air makes Phil shiver, but only until he's set his glasses aside and crawled into bed, pressing himself along Dan's back with a kiss to his lightly-freckled shoulder.

London is chilly in November, but Dan carries a warmth with him that emanates from his very core, and it drags Phil into sleep easily.

He's home now. He can breathe again.

--

Phil stirs from hazy dreams when his heat source disappears, and he makes a little whine of a noise to express his deep displeasure. He gets a throaty laugh in response.

"Fucking drama queen," Dan's voice breaks into his half-asleep state. It's soft, just like the kiss that's pressed to Phil's hair. "I'll be right back, I gotta piss."

"Wait," Phil yawns, stretching out his arms in search of Dan. He doesn't want to open his eyes. "Coffee?"

"You little - fuck, fine, yes, I'll make you some fucking coffee. Unbelievable."

Phil must fall back to sleep, because the next time he's coaxed into awareness, it's by the smell of coffee and the feel of a mouth on his jaw.

"Mm," Phil hums, reaching out to blindly pull Dan closer and tilt his head for a kiss.

Dan chuckles, a gust of breath against Phil's face before soft lips find his. Phil runs a hand over Dan's back, sleepy and hesitant, because that's not something he's always allowed to do. This time, Dan makes a pleased sort of noise against Phil's mouth before he pulls back with a low, "Mm, yourself. Good morning."

"Hey," Phil murmurs. He squints up at Dan and grins, loose with the contented feeling of being home. "Missed you, pretty boy."

The laugh he gets in response is more of a honk. Phil is so endeared. "You can't even see me," Dan points out. He's not wrong, but Phil doesn't have to have his glasses on to know how pretty Dan is.

"It's not like I forgot what you look like," Phil says dryly. He lets his hand continue to trace shapes on Dan's bare back, since Dan doesn't seem to mind the contact.

"Maybe I grew a beard."

"Yeah. Because you can totally grow an entire beard overnight."

"Probably couldn't grow a beard if you gave me a month," says Dan. "I missed you, too, stupid."

It feels like Phil has been away for weeks rather than a handful of days. He can't get enough of the bumps and grooves of Dan's back, like he's never touched it before, and his whole being aches to be impossibly closer.

He kisses Dan's temple - at least, he thinks he does, it's a bit of a blur but at least Dan doesn't make a noise as though Phil has accidentally connected with his eyeball - and runs his thumb slowly along the ridges of Dan's spine.

"We don't spend a lot of time apart, do we," says Phil. It isn't a question, really. He knows they don't.

"No," Dan says, simply. "Why should we?"

Phil supposes that there isn't a reason. In the back of his mind there are always niggling fears, worst case scenarios chasing each other around until he's worked himself up, and right now those fears are trying to make themselves known. The codependency of it crawls over Phil's skin, making him itch.

He doesn't want to spend more time away from Dan, that isn't it at all. It just worries him that he doesn't know if he'd even be able to.

The weight of Dan on him is solid, the skin under his fingers so soft and warm, and that helps Phil feel grounded.

"Let me up, baby," says Phil. He needs coffee and maybe some food before he feels fully functional, even though this is his third time waking up this morning. He might have a problem.

Dan huffs - at the pet name or at Phil himself, it's unclear - but flops onto his side next to Phil anyway. He keeps his hand on Phil's thigh through their blanket and gives him a lazy grin. "You're less grumpy today. Happy to be home?"

"You've no idea," Phil says, sitting up against the headboard so he can cradle his mug to his chest and breathe in the aroma. "I love them so much, but it's not the same."

"I've got some idea," Dan says on a yawn. "You bring any cakes home?"

"Of course. What do you take me for?" Phil scoffs. He shoves his glasses unceremoniously onto his face with one hand so he can actually see more than the vague shapes that make up his boyfriend.

Fiancé, he guesses. Technically.

The smile that Dan shoots up at him is sleepy. His eyes are half-lidded and a little red, lashes clumped together by the moisture that wells up every time he yawns. He's just in his pants, like Phil, and he's not self conscious about it in the slightest. Once again, Phil is struck dumb by how beautiful he is.

"What?" Dan asks after a long moment of Phil just looking at him. Hints of dimples are showing around his mouth, like he's holding back a bigger grin.

"Nothing, you're just," says Phil. Adjectives bump against each other at the forefront of his mind, competing to be the most truthful without being ridiculously sappy. He can call Dan pretty or hot without issue, but a flush creeps its way up Phil's neck the moment he wants to say something like 'gorgeous', 'perfect'.

"Just the best thing that's ever happened to you, right?" Dan says, all performative sarcasm.

Yeah, Phil thinks. He doesn't say it. He doesn't think he can.

"Totally," he says instead, dripping his voice in the same irony as Dan's. He refocuses on his coffee, and Dan starts to scroll through his phone.

He leaves his hand on Phil's thigh, though. He's not usually the one initiating contact, always complains jokingly when Phil reaches for him too much, but Phil guesses that Dan has missed him almost as much as Phil has missed Dan.

Phil drinks his coffee and watches Dan's screen scroll through photos of people he doesn't recognise, places he's never been.

The scrolling stops on a face Phil does recognise with a jolt, just long enough for Dan to tap it twice with his thumb and move on. It's so strange to see Anthony Padilla look... old. He's not old, not really - Phil can't remember for sure, but he's fairly certain the Smosh guys are the same age as him - but Phil is so used to seeing him look a specific way. He's got an image in his mind of the way Smosh looks, of the way he looks, and it's like the screens and mirrors are lying to him.

It doesn't help that Phil sees a bit of Dan in the pose, the curly hair, the big sweater. He wonders what came first, wonders which of them looked at the other and saw something they wanted in themselves, or if they even did it consciously. By the time Phil thinks to ask if they know each other or just know of each other, Dan has opened a different application.

--

Being with Dan is too much, sometimes.

Phil has been very lucky in his life. He knows what it feels like to be loved unconditionally by his parents, his brother, a handful of friends, and how it feels to love them the same. The way that Dan loves him, though, is different. New. Something Phil didn't know could ever be directed at him.

Most days it isn't an issue. Dan loves him, and he's very fond of Dan, and they do all they can to meet each other in the middle of the gaping chasm where a decade used to be.

But there are moments when the itch gets so bad, when Dan's big hands and brown eyes get so intense, that Phil doesn't know how to handle it. Dan loves him so much that he projects it like an aura, enveloping Phil in the gentle warmth he manages to carry with him even when he's shouting obscenities at Phil over a game, and sometimes.

Sometimes, it's overwhelming. When it gets like that, the smallest things can make Phil feel like he's missed a step or five on a staircase he can't see the bottom of. It's not stifling, suffocating, upsetting. It's simply too much.

He doesn't know how to convey that to Dan. How to explain the itch. So he doesn't.

In the days following his return from the Isle, Phil feels it more than he ever has. Something about being apart, even if it was only for three nights, has Dan clinging in a way that Phil hasn't experienced yet. Sure, Dan is cuddly enough, especially when they're curled up together in bed or on the sofa, but this is another level.

Dan has currently plastered himself to Phil's back while he washes the dishes, an arm slung over Phil's shoulder, lips pressed to Phil's jaw, and he's stayed there for nearly fifteen minutes while he chatters on about whatever's on his mind.

It's not the casual brushes of lips and fingers that Phil expects, that they both initiate every day; it's Dan planting his feet and staying in Phil's space like he never wants to leave it again.

That's scary. Never is a scary, overwhelming, too much word.

"Love you," Dan reminds him on his way out of the room, taking the overwhelming warmth of his aura with him. He no longer qualifies the statement with a 'you don't have to say it back'. Phil doesn't know if that's because he wants Phil to say it or because he thinks Phil has probably understood that by now.

The words get choked in Phil's throat the way they do every time. It's reflex, instinct, to say he loves someone when they say it to him. That wouldn't be a fair thing for Phil to slip up with at all.

Phil breathes deeply in the sudden quiet of their big kitchen and tries to calm himself from that missed-step panic.

--

"What are you doing?"

There's a note to Dan's voice that Phil doesn't recognise, not without turning around to see his face. It's sleepy confusion, mostly, and Phil doesn't think he needs to know what else it is.

"I'm snooping," says Phil. His hands pause in their rifling. "Or organizing, I guess, but snooping makes it sound more fun."

"It's five in the morning," Dan tells him.

Oh. That is a bit startling. Phil doesn't know what time it was when he gave up on sleep and got out of bed, but he's made it through a dresser and a half. He wonders if he's sorting things wrong, if Dan's got a system for the drawers like he does for their hangers.

Phil stares down at his hands, tangled with the loose socks in one of their top drawers. He feels weirdly disconnected from the physical sensation.

"You didn't come to bed," Phil says, the reason behind his earlier restlessness coming back to him.

"No, sorry," says Dan. He doesn't actually sound sorry, but Phil still can't figure out how he does sound. "I got caught up in this thread, I know I've read it before but I, like, forgot enough about it that it still fucked me up? There was this guy and he kept seeing these, I dunno, sticky notes, I fucking guess, in his own writing, and he didn't remember writing them, right, so he -"

"Cool," Phil says, probably too sharp. He isn't sure where that story is going, but he knows that it's hitting a bit too close to home as it is.

There's a beat. "Sorry," Dan says again. This time it seems like he means it.

Phil shrugs. "I'm not upset."

"No, you're not. Will you look at me?"

Honestly, Phil had forgotten about his physical form entirely. He blinks. After a moment, he takes his hands out of the drawer to turn and face Dan.

Dan smiles. He looks exhausted, sitting at the foot of their bed in just an oversized jumper. Probably some pants, as well, but the way his top hangs makes it impossible to tell for sure. His long legs are bare and crossed at the ankles.

"Are you wearing pants?" Phil blurts out, like his thought process is connected directly to his tongue.

He is reminded, ridiculously, of Cordelia Chase, and the way her speech and thoughts mirrored perfectly. Sure, he can't remember the PIN to his own bank card, but he can get a flashback to Earshot like he watched it last week. He wonders if Charisma is happy in 2019.

Phil's thoughts are ping-ponging so much that he almost misses it when Dan laughs and nods, rucking up the front of his jumper to show them off. "Yeah, you fucking pervert, I'm wearing pants."

The sound of Dan's laugh relaxes some of the tension that Phil didn't even realise he was holding in his body, and he gives Dan a tired grin.

"Oh, I'm the pervert?" he teases. He gestures behind himself, indicating the dresser he's half done organizing. "I'm not the one who's got a collection of women's underwear. Unless I am? Am I? You'd tell me if I wore women's underwear, wouldn't you?"

Dan's lips twitch, but he gives Phil a surprisingly stern look. "They're not 'women's underwear'," he says with little air quotes. "They're just underwear."

This seems like one of those things Dan can rant about for hours that Phil doesn't completely understand and has to make discreet Google searches to keep up with, but he's always willing to listen. Or, well, any time but five in the morning, he'd be willing to listen. He's sure Dan can rant about gender roles and normativity when they're both properly awake.

He's curious about this, though. He does his best to make sure that the curiosity is all that comes through, doesn't want to accidentally sound like he's being judgemental when he says, "So they're yours, then."

"Yeah," says Dan, simple.

"Is it a sex thing?" Phil asks, because apparently a distinct lack of sleep makes him tactless. He thinks of Cordelia again.

Dan doesn't seem bothered by the question. He shrugs, pulling idly at the collar of his jumper. "Sometimes. Not always. I dunno, Phil, not everything I own is from the men's section. I just buy things I like and wear them when I want to."

He says it like it isn't a big deal, but Phil isn't stupid. Dan doesn't do anything without overthinking it. Neither of them do, really, although they overthink in different ways - Phil's anxiety is what makes his thoughts race and his palms sweat at any decision he makes, while Dan will sit down in a quiet place and let all his thoughts tumble forward so he can try to sort through them.

It's so easy to picture. Dan in one of those stores Phil is always afraid to touch anything in, flipping through hangers with a bored look on his face. Getting his attention caught by something black and glittery on the opposite wall. Hesitating. Turning to Phil and saying, "Sometimes I wish I was a girl."

Phil realises with a little jolt that it isn't imagination alone. He knows in his gut that the exchange, or something like it, has happened before. He remembers the nervous look on Dan's face all too well.

"It's not weird," Phil says, to the Dan in front of him and the younger Dan in his mind's eye. "I don't fully get it, but that's okay. I shouldn't have said it was weird."

Something flashes across Dan's face, too quick for Phil to decipher.

"I know it isn't," says Dan. "But thanks."

He doesn't think that Dan has always known that. He thinks that there must have been a lot of bravery in the simple action of crossing a store. But it's five in the morning and they're both tired, rough around the edges with it, so Phil holds his tongue.

"In any case, your underwear's been sorted and folded," Phil informs him.

Dan rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Folded, sure. I've seen you try to fold shit that's a hell of a lot easier than some of the pants I have."

"There's just not a lot of fabric to some of them," Phil admits. The material hadn't helped, since Phil doesn't think he's ever touched lace that isn't attached to a tablecloth at his grandparents' house. "I did my best."

"I'm sure you did," says Dan. He dimples up at Phil and reaches his hands out in invitation. The missed-step swoop in Phil's stomach doesn't come, so he just smiles back and steps closer, settles himself comfortably on Dan's bare thighs. "So, I was thinking about when you Skyped me."

It takes Phil a moment to try and figure out Dan's train of thought, see where the statement has come from, but he decides that it's useless. Dan could have been waiting to bring it up for days now and a tired Phil with no filter was exactly the opener he needed.

"Yeah," Phil says, tracing the bags under Dan's sleepy eyes with his thumbs. "What about it?"

"I don't think I'm being very fair to you," says Dan. "When you remember things, I mean. It's a good thing, and I was happy, I just."

He pauses, bites his lower lip.

"You just wish it was more," Phil finishes for him. A small pang hits him in the stomach when Dan grimaces and nods. "That's okay, you know. You're allowed to wish I was... him, again."

"You're not separate people," Dan says again, quiet.

"I kind of am," says Phil. "I hope you know that I - I want to be him. For you, and for me, because he seems like he's got a really good handle on this life thing and I've got no bloody idea what I'm doing, but I can't just. I can't make myself him. I can't even, like, guarantee he'll ever fully be here again."

Dan's inhale is shaky. He runs his hands up and down Phil's thighs in a show of comfort, although Phil can't tell which of them it's for.

"That's scary," Dan murmurs. His eyes are so big and warm and vulnerable, Phil almost feels like he shouldn't be seeing him like this. "That's really fucking scary, Phil."

"It's scary for me, too," Phil reminds him. He's got a bit of a tightness in his chest, anxious from the lack of sleep and too-serious conversation, and he tucks his face into Dan's neck to break from the eye contact. "I don't want this to be happening, you know? I kind of hate it. You're so - you're really good, Dan, you like. Deserve to have him back."

The room is quiet for a little while. It's dark in the safety of Dan's neck, and only the feeling of Dan's hands on his thighs keeps Phil grounded to reality.

Eventually, Dan says, "Thanks for saying that, but also, like. We've gotten through a lot together. I'm sure we can handle this if it's permanent. It's just one of those things that... we aren't going to know what we're doing right away."

You're home for me, Phil thinks. You're home, and that's overwhelming sometimes.

"You can tell me what we've all gotten through tomorrow," is what Phil says. He pulls back and presses his lips to Dan's cheek, because he can. "I think we should get some sleep."

"Alright, stupid," Dan hums, squeezing Phil's thighs and dimpling up at him. He's so beautiful that it makes something ache in Phil's chest, some weird combination of pride and want. "You'll have to get off me, first."

"Okay," says Phil.

It takes him another few minutes to actually leave Dan's lap. Luckily, Dan doesn't seem to mind.

--

Dan still doesn't think that having social media on his phone is a good idea for Phil, too easy to get overwhelmed by, but he's happy to sit back against Phil's chest while they watch tv and scroll through his own feeds. He shows Phil a lot of things that Phil doesn't understand, and most of it is just perplexing.

Some of it is viscerally upsetting, but Phil knows that Dan doesn't mean for it to be. Advances in technology are only cool to hear about until the wheel of worst case scenarios in Phil's head starts to spin. Maybe self-driving cars and robots that talk back are neat to think about in theory, but the reality of them makes Phil so, so anxious.

He hears Dan murmur, "God, she's getting so big."

So he looks. Then, suddenly, he feels like he is going to pass out. All the blood in his body rushes to his head and his eyes start to water, because. What the hell.

The girl in the photo isn't one Phil recognises. She looks younger than twelve - he isn't good at guessing ages, he'd place her between six and nine - so he guesses that's not very surprising. What's making his head spin is the man with her.

"Is that Ian?" Phil asks, blinking a bunch like it'll change the fact right in front of him.

Dan locks his phone immediately and winces, turning in Phil's arms to hold him close. "Yeah, that's Ian and his daughter. Are you okay? I should have warned you, I didn't even think."

"Ian has a daughter?" Repeating it doesn't make it sound any more true. Phil shakes his head. "I just watched him throw up in a girl's purse. Like, he just gave himself a concussion trying to climb out of a ground floor window. He doesn't have a daughter."

"Are you okay?" Dan asks again, softer.

No, Phil isn't okay. The reality is, of course Ian has a daughter. All of Phil's friends and family have lived a life that he no longer has access to. Every memory he has of Ian is so much clearer than the memories Ian must have of him, clouded by time and nostalgia. He wonders if Ian remembers the concussion and then thinks, don't be silly, how could he forget? How could he forget anything about Phil? How could Phil have forgotten anything about him?

"No," he says out loud, because Dan deserves to know the truth. "No, I fucking hate this. I hate it, Dan."

The laugh that's startled out of Dan is wobbly and wet, and Phil really wishes he wouldn't cry. If Dan cries again, Phil will desperately want to comfort him, and he wants this selfish moment of anger for himself.

Dan's voice isn't shaky when he speaks, though, his arms tightening around Phil and their legs all tangled. "Yeah, it really sucks, huh? She's a good kid, if that helps. She likes you."

"I don't know if that helps," Phil says, "but thank you for saying it."

He wonders what Ian thinks of Dan. How does his best friend feel about Phil settling down like this? Was it surprising to him or did it seem organic if you'd lived it?

It doesn't feel organic to Phil. He's getting there, he is, because Dan is wonderful and he wants to be around him all the time, but. Dan feels like home in a way that Phil doesn't think he's earned.

Slow progress is still progress, Phil reminds himself. He knows how to cook Dan eggs he doesn't even eat anymore, knows what Dan looks like when he's about to start crying on Skype, knows a thousand things that he's learned ever since he woke up on the kitchen floor.

It's progress. He has to keep telling himself that or he's going to lose his entire mind.

Dan's voice, quiet and empathetc, breaks into Phil's spiralling frustration. "Do you want to talk about it?"

No, Phil doesn't want to talk about it. He isn't okay and he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it in case everything comes tumbling out at once.

The itch isn't there right this second, but Phil knows how easily it comes on. He wonders if there's a way to get rid of it without Dan ever knowing its existence, wonders how his brother and parents and probably Ian are all so chill about this relationship when Phil himself feels like it's all-consuming.

He can't exactly get frustrated with Dan for not talking about his feelings if he just turns around and does the same thing, though. So.

"No," he says, "but I will anyway."

Despite his worries, Phil's words don't come tumbling out the moment he gives them permission. Instead he has to force them, stammering and avoiding Dan's big brown eyes as he talks about the way it feels to be thrust into a life he doesn't remember making, a life he doesn't feel like he deserves. He talks about the itch under his skin that he'd thought would go away if he just embraced the reality of being in a committed relationship and how it hasn't, really, and sometimes it feels even worse than it had when he first woke up.

Dan lets him talk. He's good at that, Phil thinks. He doesn't try to interject in any of the pauses where Phil forces himself to say things that have been on his mind for almost two entire months.

It isn't until Phil apologises that Dan's large hand is covering his own and squeezing.

"What on earth are you sorry for, stupid?" Dan murmurs. "I'm glad you told me you feel this way, because, like, it isn't the first time."

Phil blinks. He meets Dan's gaze, his heart pounding a bit at the sheer amount of affection behind those eyes. He turns his hand over to link their fingers together, holds tight like Dan is an anchor. "What?"

"I told you," Dan says with a sad little smile. "I know everything about you. Do you really think you never panicked when we first moved in together and a dozen times after that? Do you think I didn't? You're not the only one who was in love for the first time, Lester. I know it's been a few years, but I remember how it feels to be thrown in the deep end of feelings you can't get a fucking grip on."

The sheer relief at being understood washes over Phil, and he laughs.

"Ten years," he says, the same awe as always washing over him as he does. Right in this moment, it doesn't scare him the way it has been.

Dan's smile is still sad, but his eyes are twinkling. "Ten years. There's no part of your bullshit I can't handle by now."

"You're so annoying," Phil says. He knows that Dan can hear the emotion behind it, the same way Phil has figured out that being called stupid means 'I love you', but voicing his other feelings has made him brave and stupid with it. "I think - no, I don't think, I'm pretty fucking sure - that I, like, love you."

He's not sure what he expects. His heart is pounding and he waits for Dan to beam at him or cry or something else ridiculous, but Dan just gives him a little shrug.

"I know," he says, grinning. "I know you." He doesn't say it back this time, but that's okay.

Phil knows him, too.

[fyrapartnersearch]

1x1 M// Fantasy Romance OC search

Hey! Y'all can call me Eyo or Eyofin, I’m a queer female, 27 years old, full time job and yada yada. Looking for some new fun to keep me going during these great awesome amazing wonderful times. I tend to be long-winded so I’m trying to keep this as brief as I can.

About me & my writing:

 CST Timezone

13+ years of writing experience

Looking to write OC’s, although I’m happy to take inspiration from established universes

Huge Overwatch dweeb, into anime, fantasy, art…the whole nerd package. I like making friends and OOC chat a lot, and I typically get on with people who have similar interests!

I tend to write 500+ words per post, 3rd person, past-tense. I have no length requirements so long as you give me something to bounce off. I’d like coherent grammar and spelling, but I’m not crazy picky.

Chill atmosphere. RP'ing is a hobby and isn’t worth it unless it’s fun for everyone involved. That being said, I can comfortably respond once a day, but I usually match my partner’s pace. I expect you to understand if I need to go a few days without replying, take a break, or go on hiatus. Also, ditching happens. I get it. I don’t sweat the details. If we’ve crossed paths before and it didn’t work out, but you’d be inclined to try again, I’m totally down.

Looking mostly for M/M, tho I’d be open to F/F too. That being said, nothing turns me away more than someone who only plays the submissive role, so if this is you, we’re not going to mesh. I’d rather not distinguish what position characters take in bed and let it flow naturally.

 21+ just because I find it much easier to relate to people closer to my age.

I really enjoy writing smut. I think I’m one of the few people that can pretty much just write it forever (although whether I write GOOD smut is...eh...debatable). That being said, I do still expect a story, and the level of smut can vary depending on what you’re comfortable with. I don’t have many limits at all, but my big, non-negotiable No’s are mpreg, A/B/O, scat, and vomit. I’m always happy to fade to black or accommodate your limits, no questions asked. We can discuss this more in private.

Email or discord are my preferred methods of writing

My characters tend to be very quirky. I like giving them extremes: making them particularly amazing in a few areas, at the detriment of being severely lacking in others. Flawed geniuses. I enjoy giving them pretty radical personality types and don’t do well playing mild, average characters. I tend to break the molds of realism pretty often.

What I’m looking for:

Genres: high fantasy, superheroes, supernatural, adventure, modern fantasy, monsters, apocalypse, etc. 

Character-driven. Come at me if you have OC’s you’re craving to play and we'll smush him with one of mine and see what happens! I’ve got mostly humanoid characters with a monster or two thrown into the mix. I like human x creature pairings quite a bit, but am fine with human x human and all other sorts ;)

I like both fluff and dark themes. Sickeningly sweet romance and then a dose of violence. Relationships that are sunshine and relationships that are twisted and messed up. I think it’s fun when a roleplay has tons of up’s and down’s across the board

I’m cool doubling as necessary to carry the plot along

My plot ideas:

I’m actually pretty dry on plots at the moment, so if you have something you’re craving let me know! I’m open to most things. Here’s a few vague possibilities off the top of my head: 

Kingdoms at war: Can be various types of kingdoms, but two individuals on opposite sides of a war end up in a situation where they have to depend on one another to survive: getting stranded, a huge monster attack, unexpected bigger enemy appearing, etc. They could be the leaders of each kingdom, the children of those leaders, or random soldiers.

Knights and monsters: A famous knight or bounty hunter ends up in an unlikely scenario where he’s paired up with the kind of monster he’s usually fighting. 

Rebellion: Characters live in an oppressive regime. One character is gathering up a rebellion. The other, who could be anyone ranging from a poor nobody to a rich noble, decides to follow along with their cause.

Assassins/Bounty Guild/Mercenaries: Through a wild series of circumstances, one character ends up joining an elite group of assassins/mercenaries, and it’s up to the other character to train him. (I would love to play the experienced guy  in this situation!)

Superheroes: BNHA or Tiger & Bunny inspired. Characters join an organization to be superheroes. They could be classmates, assigned as partners, or, similar to the assassins plot, take on more of a mentor/student role.

Adventure: Characters are explorers tasked with reaching a specific location, chasing after some kind of legendary treasure in an incredibly hostile environment. They can be rivals or partners, or from various different walks of life all trying to reach the same goal.

Gladiators: Boys in an arena, either a fighter and his owner, or two fighters who have to duke it out for the crowds. 

I also have a few pre-made OC’s, and I’d love to write any of them! Since this post is getting rather long, you can find them at https://toyhou.se/Eyofin. 

Thanks for reading through! If you’re still interested you can email me at eyofin1@gmail.com or Discord @Eyofin#2223.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Get Your Feet to the Floor

(A fic that takes place the day before Season 2 starts, where Billy gets picked up by Hop for the first time and Hop sees Billy is clearly hurt and decides he can’t leave this boy on the street or in the drunk tank... so he takes him home.)

(catch it on AO3 here)

Word Count: 8,975

The first time Billy got pulled over in Hawkins, he’d only been there for a day.

He was red and angry and near sweating, mentally kicking himself and wishing he could leave his body to physically punch himself in the face for even thinking that things would be different here. That moving house would change the mind of the monster he has to legally say he’s related to by blood.

He hated everything about Hawkins, Indiana, and it had barely been over 24 hours for him to come to that conclusion. Then again, it had barely been over 24 hours for Neil to call him a “disgrace” and a “worthless bastard” who “wouldn’t know the meaning of respect if it hit him in the face”.

And Billy has to think that might be true. Billy has been hit in the face with a lot in the past 5 years. Rage, depression, irritation- all poorly mislabeled as “discipline” until it seemed to not matter exactly what it was for as long as it landed and shut him up. He definitely wouldn’t say any of those things were respect, and if they were, he thinks it would feel a hell of a lot like the back of Neil’s hand; so much so that he might definitely mistake it as such.

So when he got shoved into the wall for saying he was too tired to check something for Neil after a long day of moving, he got into his Camaro and tore through the streets. He set out to find some nice, quiet, straightaway roads that would be good for speeding down while blasting Zeppelin. He took a second to wonder how many cops the shithole of a town had and how often they patrolled.

He found out pretty quickly.

About 10 minutes into his drive, he got pulled over. Seemed like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He briefly thought about running him out, then thought better of it. Didn’t wanna make that much of a fuss on his first day here.

The cop was young. Curly hair. Had glasses that made him look like a nerd and a moustache that made him look almost like a perv that belonged in a porno, but overall…. Handsome.

Billy mentally kicked himself in the throat for the thought. Knew he had to be real careful about shit like that in the small town of Bumfuck, Indiana. Brief thoughts flashed through his mind that they might still tar and feather homos out here. Might send him out of town on a rail or some shit.

That didn’t keep him from batting his eyelashes up at the officer, though. Not when he saw the man stumbling over himself to ask the boy if he knew he was speeding.

No shit, Sherlock.

“Sorry Officer.” Billy made a show of leaning his elbow on the rolled down window. He kept his voice sweet and sickly. “See, I’m new in town and I’m not used to the speed limits yet.”

“Can’t read the sign?”

“Didn’t see one.”

“Well, yeah, guess when you’re going 85 you’re not gonna be able to read a traffic sign.”

Billy chuckled. Makes it sound amused and coy. Laid it on thick. Didn’t feel that sick about it, really, because the cop really was handsome. Didn’t seem to be the brightest in the bunch, but he was nice to look at. Billy only did just enough to hopefully confuse the cop into letting him go with a warning.

It worked.

But now it’s Sunday night, the night before Billy and Max’s first day at Hellhole’s fine schools, and Billy is getting pulled over again. The second he sees the lights on behind him, he gets foolishly excited. Thinks maybe the young Porno-stache cop is here again for Billy to pout at.

He’s drunk. Real drunk. Not hammered, but definitely drunk enough to swerve around as he drives too fast while listening to Judas Priest.

He had stolen some booze from Neil after the asshole had been a dick to him at the dinner table. He downed more than half of the bottle of whiskey before Neil caught him.

And being drunk makes him loose. Makes him flirty. Makes him forget where the fuck he is. So he thinks maybe he’ll get another crack at flirting up at the cop with the pretty face. It’s a small town, it’s not idiotic to think that it’s the same cop on the same road around the same time of night. There can’t be that many officers patrolling the tiny, silent roads of Hawkins. And Billy is definitely drunk enough to be foolish enough to want to bat his eyelashes at a man with a nice jaw and a bumbling personality.

The idea of outrunning him crosses his mind again. He already took his warning and if it’s the same cop, he doesn’t know if his flirting will be able to get him out of a night in the drunk tank, or worse, out of getting his car impounded. Then again, Neil had been pretty damn red when he threw Billy out the door, muttering darkly that he was still expected to come pick Max up for their first day of school tomorrow. Maybe a night in the drunk tank isn’t the worst bet to take.

He pulls over with a little more difficulty than he was expecting. The roads here in the backstreets of this stupid town aren’t paved like they are back in San Diego.

And when Billy turns off the blasting screams of the music pumping through his Camaro, he’s pitched dangerously into a deafening silence. Even with the bugs screeching in the night, the sudden quiet is overwhelming. He glances in his rearview mirror, stupidly wondering if he’s “presentable” enough to flirt with the cop when he takes note of the bruise blooming on his face. It looks like his skin was split on his cheekbone, if the red rawness of it is anything to go by. He looks away in a wave of shame that makes him ill and takes note of the bruises in the shapes of fingerprints on his arms. He curses Neil under his breath- not for the first time.

Damn, Neil. Fuck Neil.

He had been sloppy. He left signs that were visible. And Billy wasn’t kidding himself, the monster left some non-visible signs as well, but these were just stupid. Idiotic. He had school tomorrow and he was going to go in looking like he had already been in a damn fight. Neil usually never slipped up like this.

But maybe that was the point of it tonight. Once Neil noticed his whiskey missing, he marched himself into Billy’s room to find him looking in the mirror. In the mix of the grabbing and the shoving and the backhand to the face, he had called him queer. A self-centered little shit who liked his face too much. An asshole of a pansy who made out with his mirror every day instead of doing things that were actually useful, actually important, actually worthwhile. He shoved him out of the house and spit in his direction and, after his threat about how he “better be back in the morning for Max”, he stalked back into the house muttering about him being an egotistical homo.

It’s then that a loud sound comes from above him, and Billy jumps up and jerks left to see the source is the large hand of a cop who is definitely not young Porn-stache guy. This cop has a tan outfit and he’s built like a tank and his face is anything but bumbling. He means business. Billy feels stupid for feeling scared. But after the night he’s had, he almost wants to cut himself slack for shrinking a bit in the dominating presence.

He cranks his window down.

“G’evening, Officer.” Billy slurs. He feels stupid.

“Chief.” The man growls back.

Billy briefly wonders what he even did to deserve this man being so red-faced and huffy in his direction. He’s just a little tipsy going too fast down a deserted road. This is the smallest town Billy has ever been in and it’s located in the middle of fucking nowhere, he’s sure this isn’t the first time the damn “Chief” has caught a dumb teenager doing exactly what he was doing. Then again, Billy wonders why he even expects anything good from a cop.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” His voice is gruff. Irritated. Maybe even angered.

Billy feels rebellion boil inside of him.

“I feel like you’re gonna give me the answer to that.”

“Too fast.” Mr. Chief grinds out.

“I’m not surprised, considering I don’t think I’d have the honor of your company if it was anything less than too fast.”

It’s a level of sass that would get him slapped faster than lightning at home. A sick and twisted and fleeting part of him expects to get slapped right now. A tinier part almost hopes for it. It’s the only damn consistent thing in his life right now: bitch and then get hit. The consistency feels secure in his frightened, too fast world. Reminds him he’s a physical entity in a very real space instead of an intangible thought in a sea of memories now flavored like nightmares.

When Billy is able to focus again, he sees Mr. Chief isn’t happy. Billy would flirt if he wasn’t near shaking.

“Get out of the car.” It’s low and angry.

“Thanks for the offer but don’t think I wanna do that right now. .”

He doesn’t wanna get into the light and let this man see the state he’s in. He knows he already looks like a jackass hoodlum who drives too fast and “disrupts the peace” or whatever bullshit cops hurl on teens they catch being dumb, and he doesn’t want to add to the part he’s already playing. He knows this town is too small to have a police department that doesn’t talk about each and every case they encounter. There probably aren’t a hell of a lot of blue Z28 Camaros in Hellhole Hawkins, either, so Officer Porn-stache more than definitely made Mr. Chief aware of Billy’s presence.

Maybe that’s where some of this man’s anger stems. It’s been less than a week and it’s the second time he’s being pulled over. But Billy kind of feels like he should be thanked. He’s sure not a lot happens around here; he’s just making their jobs actually fit the description of one. Make them worth whatever money they’re being paid.

A large hand slams against the windowsill of Billy’s car now, and it makes him jump. He leans back instantly, turned towards the hand like it’s gonna reach for him any second. The threshold breaks. He can’t hold it in anymore. He’s shaking like the leaves on the early fall trees all around them. He feels fear pool in his eyes and he can’t make it go away. He’s breathing fast.

The cop’s face changes.

Billy is briefly aware that his current position has put him in the pool of light that the streetlamp above him is giving off. He’s sure the man sees his growing injuries on his scared shitless face.

“Just-” The Chief’s anger has shifted into something confused. Billy might be dumb enough to call it worried. His tone mirrors his face. “I just need you out of the car, kid. Need to know how drunk you are.”

“Who says I’m drunk?” Billy is stupid. Billy is supremely dumb. He shoves his heel into his foot for his words.

Mr. Chief looks disbelievingly at him.

“Just make it easier on both of us and get out of the car. I’m not here to hurt you.” He finally takes his hands off of Billy’s car, even puts them up in some kind of surrendering motion. “Just wanna get you off the street.”

Damn this man.

Billy is suddenly aware enough to take annoyance with the tone being used on him. He’s acting like some damn martyr for “saving” Billy or whatever the fuck he thinks he’s trying to do. Thinks he’s “doing his job” by getting “riff-raff” off the streets.

“Who says I’m drunk.” Billy grinds out this time. Billy’s irritated as hell this time. Billy’s the gruff and angry and threatening one this time.

“I do.” Mr. Chief is back to gruff again, too. Two can play at this game is what the response says to Billy. “I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here. Just get out of the damn car and maybe I’ll be nice.”

Billy hates it. He wonders why he even expects anything different than this from any authority figure in this goddamn country. In this goddamn world. Show him a grown man who doesn’t threaten young boys like it’s a dying art and he’ll look up towards the sky to find the flying pig.

“Get out of the car.”

“No.”

“I know this isn’t your first warning, but I’m trying to be fucking nice here and I need to get home to my daughter so-” Mr. Chief’s voice cuts off. His eyes widen, like he fucked something up. Like he broke a vase in a house that’s not his. “Just- just get out of the damn car and I won’t impound it. Might not even stick you in the drunk tank.”

And what if I was hoping for the drunk tank? Billy’s thoughts are bitter.

He sizes the man up and comes to the conclusion that he could probably drag Billy out of his car through the open window if he really wanted.

He opens the door and steps out. It’s more difficult than he thought it would be. There’s more than a ghost of pain in his ribs and abdomen as he bends over and straightens up.

“Alright.” The Chief sounds exhausted. “Billy Hargrove, right?”

Billy’s whole body tenses like a cat on edge.

“Why do you know that?”

Mr. Chief gives Billy a look like he’s a naive little boy. Billy can’t find a single thing to not hate about it.

“This is a small town, kid. You’ll figure out that means there’s not a lot to do around here but talk.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means a coworker of mine met your mom-”

“She’s not my fucking mother.” Billy spits. Mr. Chief jumps on it to makes amends.

“Step-mother. A few days ago in the grocery store. They got to talking about how you guys just moved in.”

“Right. And they had a little pow-wow about me?”

“She mentioned your whole family. Plus my other coworker nearly had to impound your car a few days back. Didn’t recognize you or your vehicle, neither do I, so two and two together, you’re the Hargrove kid.”

Billy is fuming. He wants to get out of here. Wants to find some place to crash for the night. He’s tired and the damn bite of the late October air is making the cut on his cheek burn and he just wants out. Wants this cop to do whatever it is he thinks he needs to do to him and just let him fucking leave.

“Whatever.” Billy is sick and tired and done. He leans against the door of his Camaro with too much visible difficulty. He feels naked with his bruises and cuts open to the air and, consequently, to Mr. Chief right in front of him.

Fuck Neil. He thought he was just hurting his ego but now he’s hurting his damn chance of lying low at all in this shithole town. He thinks he probably looks like a fucking thug.

Billy gauges the look on the Chief’s face. He’s still got that stupid concern drawn all over it. Billy’s head is spinning from the alcohol and the thought of someone worrying. He filters all of his emotions into irritation.

“Need me to strut for you or what?” Billy asks. Slurs. He’s still shaking. He’s pretty damn sure he won’t be able to walk in a straight line at this point, but for a number of reasons other than alcohol. But he’s able to take a step away from his car and holds his arms out like he’s ready for it. Ready for something.

Mr. Chief is still looking concerned. It makes Billy want to hurl. Maybe that’s the alcohol swishing inside his bruised stomach. He wants his music back to drown out his stupid thoughts that feel warm over the idea of someone caring.

Suddenly the man in front of him is eyeing him up and down. Surveying him. After a second Billy wonders if this cop is queer, too; if he’s about to make some kind of salacious proposition like those horny moms back in San Diego used to make at him when they’d catch him having a smoke outside the gym after basketball games. He figures it’d be nice to know if the cop is gay and might be willing to take a few… favors to get Billy out of a jam. It makes Billy a little sick. He doesn’t wanna do it, probably never would. Talking and thinking and acting up a big game is different than actually doing the things he thinks, but it’d still be nice to know if the cop was a perv.

But the more the cop looks, the more worry paints his face. That almost sickens Billy more than the thought of anything else.

“I-” Mr. Chief starts and stops himself. Billy spits on the ground and can’t help but wince at the pain that makes a wave through his abdomen. “Okay kid, listen to me. Give me the name and number of someone who I can call to take care of your for the night and I’ll forget about this. Understand?”

No. Billy doesn’t understand. He eyes the cop under his furrowed eyebrows and Mr. Chief sighs like he’s tired of this. Billy knows the fucking feeling.

“Just trying to get you off the street and under a roof, but I’m gonna need a name and a number.” The Chief takes a second to think about his words before he speaks again. “And I’m talking about someone who has your best interest in mind, alright kid?”

That last admission is what sends Billy spinning again. His mind is swirling away, swishing around like the liquor in his stomach as the faces of the people he knows around here come to mind, and there’s only three and they all live in the same damn house. His damn house. One of them being the damn man who kicked him the fuck out earlier tonight.

His head lurches in what feels like sickness. He’s quickly reminded of how alone he is here. He has no one. No friends around here, no fucking family to run to who will support him. He’s spiraling down into his thoughts, falling fast like he’s been flipped upside down and the earth isn’t under him anymore but instead reaching up to swallow him whole and-

“Damnit kid.”

The Chief sounds exasperated. He sighs like he’s tired and Billy is boiling.

“Excuse me, Chief. Hate to break it to you that I don’t fucking know anyone yet.” The cop grimaces when he cusses and Billy doesn’t give a single shit. “Look, just take me to the drunk tank.”

“It’s a school night.” He says it like that’s all he needs to say.

“I think I can manage.” Billy scoffs.

“I’m not putting you in the drunk tank on a school night. You need rest.”

“Yeah, and in there there’ll be a roof over my head like you so sweetly said you wanted for me, so let’s just go.” Billy gives himself a second to think. “And don’t impound my car.”

“C’mon kid, there’s no one who’ll take you in?”

“Goddamnit, you just acted like you know every fuckin’ thing about me, no. There’s no one to call. Just take me in. I’m complying aren’t I? Isn’t this like a wet dream for you pigs?”

Mr. Chief seems to be burning in irritation. Billy would get a kick out of it if he wasn’t so cold and tired. Mostly just tired, especially of this stupid conversation.

“Not home, huh?”

Billy is scowling. Hard.

Don’t know everything, do ya, Chief?

For a second, Billy thinks about telling him to drop him off at home just to be fucking done with this. He can get dropped off and then go park somewhere for the night. But that’s the issue with that: he won’t have his fucking car. There’s no way the Chief can get it to him. He’d have to walk Billy up to his house, and not only was he kicked out, but coming in with a cop? Christ… that’d make it ten times worse.

He thinks about saying a random address, but the same issue stands: he’d be sans car. And he needs to pick Max up in the morning for school or Neil will most definitely flip his shit.

So he’s silent. Stands helplessly there in front of the fucking Chief of Police of Hawkins and letting the chill of the October night scratch at him like he’s defenseless. Because he is defenseless. He has no one and nothing and he’s here, hypervisible to this fucking cop and it’s not even the cute one with the pornstache.

Mr. Chief has his hands on his hips. His foot is tapping a cadence on the ground before he shakes his head and jerks a thumb to his cruiser.

“You’re coming with me, c’mon.”

“What?”

“I said you’re coming with me.” He rubs a hand down his face like all of the bad decisions in the world have just ran through his head and he’s decided to act on all of them. “I’m taking you home.”

Billy’s blood runs cold. The October air has nothing on the chill that runs through his body immediately, like he’s been wiped out at the beach.

“No.” Billy is adamant. He reaches for the handle of his car, thinks about making a break for it and just getting in and ripping away. The Chief seems too tired to follow him out into the night.

But in the whirling of his head, he forgot that he isn’t leaning on his car anymore, but rather a few steps away from it. He stumbles back a bit, still reaching but not finding purchase. He briefly worries in his still semi-drunken state that someone swiped it from under them while they were arguing about Billy being alone.

“C’mon kid, you have to come with me.”

“No. I don’t have to fucking do anything.” Terror takes root in Billy’s bruised up chest as he makes another idiotic reach for his car. “I’d rather sleep in my car than go back home with a cop.”

Something like realization washes over the Chief’s face when Billy says that. He shakes his head, eyes looking concerned again and Billy is going to scream from all the pressure in his chest.

“Look kid-”

“No.”

“Look! Billy! I need you to know that I’m not doing this to punish you or get you into trouble or... whatever else.”

This gives Billy pause. He stops palming the air for his car, just lets his hand fall to his side. He has to think about the words and he feels stupid all over again but he really has to wonder how this man can promise not to get him into trouble when he’s the very definition of it for Billy.

Mr. Chief sighs.

“Because I know-”

Billy doesn’t let him finish his thought. Of fucking course this stupid cop thinks he knows something about Billy and his situation. Probably got hit once by his own old man when he was a teen and wanted to try badmouthing an authority figure. Probably thinks he understands crystal fucking clear. Bruises and cuts and pain and he gets it but it’ll be okay because he’s your dad and he loves you.

“No.” Billy seethes out, harsh and angry and bitter and red like Hell. Like the Devil. He feels it in his face. “You don’t know!”

He’s yelling now, swinging his hand out and wanting it to come off as a punch but it’s too slow and too clumsy in his fogged up mind and the Chief just grabs it with ease. Billy struggles immediately, his heart racing in trained fear. Very, very real fear.

“You don’t fucking know anything get the fuck off of me!” Billy screams at the Chief and into the night and the grip on his arm won’t let go. Part of his fingers are grabbing where Billy was grabbed previously. It hurts like fucking hell. The blunt pain aches through his arm.

“Billy!” The Chief yells back, like he’s a little kid acting up and maybe he looks the part- he probably looks the part- but he’s not letting this shit happen. Maybe he is still that little kid that learned to run when his father raised his hand to him. He shouldn’t be fucking faulted if he is.

The Chief is reaching his other hand to grab onto Billy’s other arm and Billy is about to start fucking kicking just to get away. Mr. Chief isn’t having it.

“I don’t know how blind and stupid you think I am, but I can promise you, you’re dead wrong!” The Chief is shouting, still reaching and grabbing and holding. “I can tell something’s not right!”

“Fuck off!”

“Goddamnit kid!”

It’s then that Billy feels the grip on his arm get tighter. Fingertips dig into hour-fresh bruises and it makes pain shoot through his arm. All of the squirming has reignited every injury to Billy’s torso. The cold of the night air has flooded Billy’s lungs and left his throat raw and scratchy and used. New bruises feel like they’re blooming under the grip of the cop.

Billy submits.

He knows where he is and what he’s facing and that he can’t run and he just… submits. He stops jerking around and stands still, letting his captured arm go limp and seethes at the pain blossoming like a fucking garden.

“Please.” He whispers, feeling weak, because he is. He’s weak and defenseless and so damn tired.

And the man on the other end of the hand on Billy’s arm seems to freeze. Billy’s looking at his boots on the ground and feels shame at being so damn weak. He’s trying to play dead like an animal in the face of a predator. This is what he has to do now.

But the Chief does the unthinkable… he loosens his grip.

He releases the pressure of his fingers and Billy shifts his eyes up to look at him through curly strands of hair.

The Chief’s face is full of shame. He’s not even trying to hide it, he looks surprised and shocked and slightly sickened by what he just did. Billy doesn’t understand it.

But he feels shame inside himself as well. It’s in his chest and projecting up onto his face, he knows it. He feels like he betrayed himself somehow, letting himself get so weak. He eyes the cop and sees the look of shame never leave.

In a split second, without any thought involved behind his action, Billy shoots his chin up and spits in the Chief’s face. The action stems from the anger and resentment boiling inside of him; through him. He’s mad and he spits because of it.

The Chief flinches. Takes the hand once gripping Billy’s arm and wipes his face.

Billy just watches, frozen in place because he can’t believe what he’s done. He should be dead, decimated on the spot for pulling a stunt like that, but the man on the receiving end of it is calm; calmer than he’s been all night. He takes a breath and gets even more collected before he looks Billy in the eye and says in a controlled and authoritative voice: “Get in the car. I’m taking you home.”

Billy doesn’t think. Feels like maybe he should start thinking right now but he can’t. He doesn’t move anything except his feet as they take him to the passenger side of the Chief’s cruiser. He climbs in without a word. The pain in his body is dulled as his mind races. The confrontation has made him so dull and nervous that he’s just numb. It takes about a minute before the Chief is in the car with him. He puts his key in the ignition and the car starts up.

They drive.

~~~

Billy should have known when Mr. Chief didn’t ask for his address that he wasn’t taking him back to Billy’s house, but in his stupor, he can’t really see or understand much of anything. It isn’t until they’re about 2/3rds of the way to their destination that Billy is even aware that he doesn’t know what that destination is.

“Where are we go-” His voice still sounds raw and used. Mr. Chief cuts him off.

“Home. My home.”

A wave of discomfort flows over Billy.

“What kind of a pervert are you?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mr. Chief is exhausted-it’s evident in his sigh. Billy cuts him some slack for being exhausted at this point, because he is too. “You need sleep. I need sleep. You have school tomorrow. I’m just taking you home.”

Billy doesn’t understand. What kind of cop finds a kid out in the middle of nowhere, being dumb and reckless and breaking laws, pulls him over, gets spit in the face, then decides to take him home to let him rest? Even if it’s because he put 2 and 2 together about his bruises and his desperation to not go home, what kind of cop picks up misfits like this? This isn’t his job and surely he uses that line a lot. Billy’s pretty sure every cop does. He was pretty sure every cop does.

Billy is letting himself swirl away again in his thoughts. He wonders how he’s going to get back to his car, what the cop is going to do to him in the morning, if he really is queer and if Billy really should be worried.

He’s gone in his thoughts when the Chief is speaking again. He tunes back in to: “I have a daughter.”

Billy knew that. He mentioned her before. It comes out like some kind of admission of a secret, though, and that confuses Billy, like just about everything about this night.

And Billy really, truly thought he was too tired and scared to be any more of a dick, but his mind flips the switch on Dick Mode and he goes after the man. He’s irritated and freaked the fuck out and he just wants to be in his bed with no bruises and no scars and no pain and no fears. He just wants to have a fucking simple life. He doesn’t want to have to deal with any more bullshit but now he’s being taken home by a cop who’s telling him about his daughter like Billy’s trying to date the girl or some shit and Mr. Chief needs Billy to know that he has to respect her. It’s idiotic. It feels unreal. Billy is so fucking exhausted and he can’t help it when he spits out his next words.

“Good for you, Chief. If you think I’m going to take her precious virginity just know-”

“She’s thirteen!” The Chief is yelling as Billy continues with:

“I don’t even swing that way.”

The air in the car is suddenly stale. Paused. Breathless.

Billy looks over to the Chief who just has an eyebrow quirked. The words of the last 10 seconds are still tangible in the air and it makes Billy’s entire body freeze over. He just jumped into an ice bath.

In a second he’s sitting rod straight, freaked out to high hell. Probably looks like a fucking tweaker from how on edge he is. Four days into living in Hawkins and he’s fucking outed himself to the Chief of Police.

Shit.

“Don’t know why I said that…” Billy begins bumbling like an absolute moron. He used to think himself smooth but this night has been a nightmare and his head hasn’t stopped spinning since it started. “Holy fuck god fucking… fuck…. Holy shit.”

“Kid.” Billy is pretty sure he hears the Chief’s voice but Billy is reeling.

“Fuck...”

“Billy!” Mr. Chief yells, his voice sharp and unforgiving. Billy freezes as the Chief sighs again. “I don’t care what your preferences are or who you like or whatever. I just wanted you to be nice to my kid, alright? That’s all.”

Billy is still frozen. He has to process the words for a few seconds more to understand them.

He’s in shock. He gauges in a few seconds that Mr. Chief is serious about this. That he’s exasperated and actually, truly, could not give a fuck about who Billy likes. Billy’s jaw is dropped.

“And don’t cuss like that in front of her, either.” Mr. Chief adds for what seems like good measure.

Billy sits and lets the words sink in. Within a few minutes, they’re pulling up to a small cabin in the middle of the woods. When Mr. Chief parks the truck, he’s looking down at his steering wheel like it’ll give him the secrets of life.

“And…” He begins, questions in his eyes. “... don’t worry about it. It’s not mine to tell.” He looks over to Billy. “I know I just said this town talks, but it doesn’t have to. You don’t want anyone to know? I won’t say anything.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but nod.

And after he shakes off his shock, it takes a grand total of 2 seconds before red flags are coming up left and right. It’s like he’s just realized his position: in an unknown forest with a cop he just met, in a town he’s just moved to, no home to return to for the night, no one to call but people who don’t give 2 shits about him from what he’s seen. He’s not sure where he is and this man has shown concern, sure, but he’s a fucking cop in a tiny town picking a teen up he doesn’t fucking know and taking him to his home and this? This is just weird. And sketchy. And Billy’s heart is pumping blood through his body fast as he tries to gauge how successful an escape attempt might be. He promised Billy he wouldn’t take him in. Billy can go find his Camaro and sleep there until morning.

But… he can’t. He knows he can’t. That’s maybe the scariest part of all of this is he doesn’t know where the fuck he is and he didn’t know where the fuck he was when he got pulled over and now?

Now he’s just… tired. It hits him again like a freight train. His body is going through waves of anxiety and exhaustion, cresting and crashing. He just wants to go to sleep.

But when Billy goes to open the door- not even thinking, just acting -it’s locked. Anxiety starts to swell again as he looks to the cop next to him and sees his eyes are tight. Real tight. Like he’s trying to convince himself to do something-or maybe to not do something? Billy isn’t sure. But he pulls on the handle of the door repeatedly to indicate his panic. He can’t think straight. Everything is still swirling and at this point it’s definitely more to do with the exhaustion than the alcohol.

In a second the cop seems to start up again, quickly. Like a generator. He reaches to unlock the doors and climbs out of the car immediately. Billy follows his lead.

It’s when he’s passed the cruiser and is trudging toward the cabin that he’s stopped again, large hand and hard pressure on his bare wrist.

And he’s waiting for the anxiety to well up in a crest of fear but… it doesn’t this time. It swells slightly but it crashes down just as fast, mushy and soft, like the waves in Santa Barbara would when him and his parents would take a trip up there for spring. He’s the smallest bit fearful but mostly he’s compliant. Loose in a worse way than before. Submissive due to carelessness rather than willingness.

And some part of him, the unthinking and overexerted part, is glad that he’s reached this level of uncaring. There’s no rush of anxiety begging him to flee, there’s just tired eyes connected to a tired brain that wants whatever this next argument is going to be to just be over already so he can crash on the next available surface that isn’t dirt.

“I have a daughter.” Mr. Chief says for the third time tonight.

Billy blinks slowly.

“I know, Chief. I remember.” Billy blinks again. “Do you remember when I just told you I like dick a second ago?”

Mr. Chief glares.

“I need you to understand something here, kid.” He’s threatening him again. Billy can’t find any bone in his body that cares. “This is serious shit. You-”

Mr. Chief takes a big labored breath. His hand gets a little tighter on Billy’s wrist. Billy subconsciously wriggles it in his grasp.

“Fuck…” Mr. Chief says under his breath before he’s trying again. “You can’t say anything about her to anyone, alright? Not a damn word.”

Billy feels something sick in his chest at this conversation, but it’s small and it’s quiet and he just wants to crash.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Doesn’t know what to say. He wriggles his wrist a bit more.

“Do you understand me?” Mr. Chief is asking again, gritting his teeth like an angry dog.

Billy nods.

“You have to say it.”

“Yeah, I get it, don’t say anything. Got it. Fine. Whatever.”

“Not whatever, this is serious shit, alright? You tell a single soul and I fucking find you and make you wish you couldn’t speak to begin with. This is a small town, kid, I’ll find out where you live real fast.”

And like… wow. Okay. This seems way more than a little sketchy and definitely isn’t helping Billy’s anxiety any. His mind feels like it’s swirling through the wind around them. It feels like he’s not here, like he’s in a place outside of this, like he’s in a dream state where everything is altered and intense and everlasting.

But the pressure on his wrist gets stronger and he’s too tired for this shit so his knees buckle a little and-

“Yes, I understand. I won’t say anything.”

Billy just wants his wrist to be let go. His wish gets granted by the man who is red faced and breathing a little unevenly. Billy watches him wipe his hand down his face again like his struggles are drowning him.

“You know…” Billy begins, voice uncaring as he rubs his now sore wrist. “That was pretty fucking sketchy. Don’t know if you’re aware how damning that sounded.”

“Yeah kid.” Mr. Chief’s voice is gruff, but it’s clearly from tiredness this time around. He’s got a large hand over his eyes and a grimace on his lips. “Yeah. I’m aware.”

Mr. Chief starts walking to the cabin, taking a big step over a wire that Billy doesn’t notice until the large man mentions it. Billy still can’t see it, or even process it’s existence, but he hears Mr. Chief sigh and in a few seconds there are two hands holding him and lifting him a bit, making him lighter as he steps over the thing he can still barely see. Billy doesn’t think much of the help in his state.

Mr. Chief knocks on the door in some cryptic way that Billy can’t focus on because he’s too busy paying attention to how many stars there are in the sky. He doesn’t hear the handle turn but when he turns back to the cabin, the door is open. There’s a small voice floating through the air the second they wander in.

“Late-” The voice pauses sharply and Billy sees where it’s coming from: a small, short girl with short curly hair and a large flannel that she’s swimming in. Must be her dad’s.

That’s weird.

“Who is he?” She asks, pointed and glaring at her dad in a way that matches her voice.

It’s when Billy’s places his weight oddly and his body tries to rock forward that he feels it: immense and oppressive pressure. It’s like someone has his face pressed up against a wall so he can’t move. Nothing is giving way and his anxiety starts to pick up again, even if it’s still small in his tired state.

“This is a… a friend.” The Chief is unbelievably unconvincing. “He just needs a place to stay for the night.”

The girls eyes are wide in very obvious confusion before they turn to angry slits, eyebrows knitted down over them. She’s pissed. If looks could kill, she’d probably snap someone’s arm.

“Why does he visit and not Mike?”

The Chief is back to his exhausted sighs. If someone told him this man carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, Billy might actually believe it.

“Ugh…” Chief’s eyes are screwed shut and his fingertips are pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look kid-”

“Why?”

“Because it’s… different-” Mr. Chief is proving he’s shit at explaining things.

“Why is it different?” The girl’s fists are clenched hard, knuckles white and face scowling.

“It just is, alright?” The Chief’s voice booms, vibrating Billy’s chest. The pressure on his body hasn’t ebbed. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, just… have you eaten yet?”

“Table.” The girl says by way of an answer. She points to something behind Billy and it takes all of his energy to turn and look at the small table with two TV dinners atop it.

“Alright.”

The two make no moves to do anything but share a silent staredown. There’s some kind of tension that Billy would be able to cut if he cared to notice.

Billy doesn’t care to notice.

“Is there a place I can take a piss?” Billy’s voice is loud.

The pressure on his body is gone in an instant as the young girl tilts her head in clear confusion. Mr. Chief is sighing again.

“Yeah.” Chief nods before looking to his daughter. “Eat, alright? I’ll be right there.”

The small, curly girl holds her stare on the Chief for a while longer before she trudges past Billy and sits at the table in a loud huff.

Billy watches the Chief as he leads him to the side of the cabin and pulls back a large curtain. Billy eyes it strangely as he steps into the makeshift room.

“Hey, uh… we don’t have lots of food but I can make you up something if you want.” It’s the Chief. Being nice. Concerned. Again.

Billy is too tired to be irritated.

“I already ate.” He replies immediately, turning around to see Mr. Chief has the most unconvinced look on his face. It’s the fact that it’s laced with worry that digs under Billy’s skin.

Billy rolls his eyes.

“Believe it or not, but they do still feed me at home.” He shuts the curtain quickly before he can see the Chief’s expression, just grateful that he finally gets to piss half this alcohol out.

He does his best not to look in the mirror.

When he’s drying his hands, head down at the towel, he hears the hushed whispers of Mr. Chief and his daughter.

“I told you I’ll explain tomorrow. Now please promise you’ll behave. Don’t…. Do anything. Alright? You have to promise me.”

Billy decides then that he’s not going to pretend to understand what’s happening, and he sure as hell isn’t going to go against the Chief’s wishes, even if he’s aggravatingly threatening when he describes them. This is the Chief of Police of Hawkins and even through his pitying concern, the man is hard and a little scary. Billy isn’t going to take this roof over his head tonight for granted, even if it might be getting him mixed into something he probably doesn’t want to be mixed into.

He walks slowly back into the room where the two are having dinner, but the girl is staring at Billy as soon as he’s in sight. She won’t stop staring either, eyebrows a little furrowed in some major distrust. They frame hard eyes that aren’t liable to give in easily. Billy would be lying if he said he wasn’t more than a little intimidated.

“Uh… hey.” Billy starts, uncharacteristically timid, like he’s approaching a wild animal in the woods or a stray dog in the street. “Didn’t introduce myself. Name’s Billy.”

Her stare doesn’t let up. She makes no move to speak. Where he would typically get impatient, his tiredness wins out.

“You got a name?”

The girl glares a bit longer before she finally succumbs.

“El.”

Billy nods.

“That’s a nice name.” He means it. He’s tired. He feels stupid again.

But it’s worth it because her eyebrows unfurrow and those crinkles in her face are gone and her eyes are a little wide. She blinks twice.

Billy shifts his focus.

“I never caught your name either, Chief.” Here he’s playfully rude. His tiredness can’t win out over making this large man sigh at least one more time. Billy would have to die before he stops getting a kick out of being a little bitch. “Kinda rude, now that I think about it.”

He’s smirking down at Mr. Chief, who looks like he hates the world and all of its inhabitants.

“Jim Hopper.” He says, leaning back in his seat and staring down at his now empty tray.

Mr. Chief Jim Hopper.

A few seconds go by, Billy feeling accomplished, before El is angry again.

“You lie.”

“Huh?” Chief Hopper looks like he wants to stop speaking.

“You said you’re friends.” El begins, eyes hard again. “He asks your name. You lie.”

“We just… hadn’t made it to that part of our friendship, yet.” The Chief says without making eye contact as he picks up his tray to throw away.

“What about Mike-”

“Enough about Mike, alright?”

“When?”

“Soon.”

Mr. Chief throws his tray into the trash and Billy is fully unaware of what’s happening. His brain has decided that functioning is optional.

He clears his throat.

“Hey, Chief Jim Hopper.” He has just enough energy to be a brat about how he says it. “When do I have your permission to crash on your couch?”

“Now.” Mr. Chief says gruffly, walking over to El to ask if she’s done with her tray. She gives it over. “Head to sleep, alright?” The Chief’s voice is suddenly soft; gentle and caring as he crouches down a bit to look her in the eye. She eyes him poisonously, before her scrunched up face relaxes and she nods, curls bouncing. She heads into her room and Billy hears the door close.

Billy goes to sit on the couch but the Chief gestures for him to stay standing before he pushes the couch back from its position in the middle of the room so that it’s all the way up against the front wall. Billy lets Chief Hopper give him an extra blanket and pillow. He’s quieter and slower than before, full of those concerned and surveying looks that Billy feels naked under.

“You good, bud?” Mr. Chief asks quietly.

Billy resents it. He is okay. He’s more okay here than he is at home and he hates it. This man fucking knows. He knows, somehow, that this is better than the place that’s supposed to be his to go to for comfort and support and safety. He’s better here with a stranger than with the people he’s supposed to call family and he’s pretty fuking livid about it.

“Whatcha gonna do about my car?”

Chief sighs.

“I gotta get to the station early tomorrow so I’ll drive you out there and get you to your car before you have to go to school.”

Billy doesn’t have anything to say, doesn’t wanna sound ungrateful for this for whatever reason, so he just nods. The Chief fidgets.

“Do you-uh… Do you need me to tell your dad something?”

He means well. Billy hates that he can tell that this man means well. He looks up from where he’s hunched over on the couch and sees the Chief shifting his weight on his feet. His arms are crossed too, his right hand picking at his left sleeve.

“I just need to be back to drive my step-sister to school.”

The Chief doesn’t seem too thrilled about that answer.

“Okay, but-”

“I was told to be back to pick up my step-sister.” Billy tries to make it clear, more than a little irritated that this man thinks he knows what’s happening. “Get it?”

The Chief gives a blank look for a second. He nods.

“Night.” He grunts before leaving for his own makeshift room and sitting heavily on his bed.

~~~

Billy’s attempt at sleep is nothing less than fitful.

He sits on the couch with the blanket the Chief gave him draped around his shoulders. It takes him too long to lie down and then even longer before his eyes close without force. He slips in and out of rest for a few hours. He’s so tired that his body refuses to lay down. His eyes burn.

He looks around the cabin. It’s dusty. Completely made of wood. There’s only one real room and he’s given it to his daughter, which makes sense. The Chief is snoring loudly from his bed which is about thirteen or so feet from Billy’s spot on the couch.

Most of the curtains don’t match and the patterns on them are kind of horrifically tacky. The ones that cover the large window behind him have trees and what looks like little buildings on them. Billy is sure that nothing ever gets cleaned, everything on the exposed shelving near him is haphazardly placed, the rug is fraying something awful, and he’s pretty sure the couch is covering a small exposed piece of furniture holding various records. There’s a record player behind him too. And as he looks, Billy’s heart yearns. Pines. Wants. There’s something about this place that makes him feel out of place but perfectly positioned and it’s maddening. Loses him in thought. Keeps him awake.

It’s as he’s sitting there, staring at the frayed carpet like it’s the answer to all of his grossly domestic dreams, that he sees feet. He didn’t hear the door open, but there’s 2 socked feet in his peripheral vision and he turns his head to see El, standing next to the door of her room and staring at him.

He jumps a bit, making sure to keep silent even though the Chief is snoring so loudly he’s sure nothing could wake him.

Her gaze is open and curious and unjudging. She looks him over like she’s never seen another human before. He wonders if he really looks that bad that he can’t even classify as human. Her brows furrow for a split second before she’s heading to a cupboard and pulling a large blanket out and hugging it to her chest. She pads silently over to the kitchen and grabs a glass from the side of the sink and fills it with water.

Billy watches her, confused and transfixed by the way she moves like a timid deer in the forest, thinks she’s going to head back into her room, before she comes to a stop in front of him. She stares for a second before holding the folded up blanket out to him. He allows himself to stare for a second as well before he takes it slowly.

He nods his thanks. She holds out the glass of water once the folded blanket is in his lap, and he takes that as well. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, glass of water in both hands in front of him, and takes a sip. El doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Thanks, kid.” He mutters quietly. She gives a small smile and nods before she moves.

She sits right next to him.

It’s… strange. She seemed so angry at his presence before that Billy can’t make sense of her opting to be this close to him.

She’s shorter than him, even as he’s crouched forward a bit, so she cranes her neck just a tad to look up at him. He eyes her as he takes another sip of water.

Maybe a minute goes by, maybe two, when Billy hears it. A soft voice whispering a soft word.

“Pretty.”

He looks down at her.

“What was that?” He asks her, watching her eyes go immediately wide. A deer in headlights.

“Nothing!” She says quickly with a quick shake of her head. Her curls bounce all around her face. She stands quickly, still staring at him with wide eyes. “Sorry! Goodnight!”

And with that, she rushes off to her room, little feet pattering on the ground and door closing silently behind her.

Billy is left staring at the door, and then at the water as he nurses it before finally placing it on the ground next to him. The early light of the sunrise is just barely teasing its way over the horizon, turning the whole sky a soft fluorescent blue, before he’s actually able to fall asleep.

(once again, find it on AO3 here!)

[colesartandbooksandstuff]

Girls of Paper and Fire- Natasha Ngan

Background: This book was released in November of 2018, right after I started working at a book store during my senior year. I was always looking for queer books bc even in YA they can be hard to come by and this caught my eye. I kept putting it off until I eventually picked it up at a HPB on sale, after which it sat on my shelf until quarantine.

Review: Like I stated on my last review, I am a sucker for a queer rebellion. This was specifically a lesbian resistance novel. Set in an alternate/ancient Asian country where there are demons (moon), humans (paper), and in-betweens (steel). Demons have all the power and humans are treated like slaves. This is kind of a mix between We Set The Dark On Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia with The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood paired with a bit of magic. This was an interesting book. It had good pace: the chapters are long enough to have their own plot, but they also don’t continue on just for the sake of increasing the word count. The language was also incredibly unique. The country (Ikhara) hasn’t progressed the same way that we have, there’s no technology, so therefore can’t have the same slang as we do. However there are some instances where it comes through, for example when 2 of the girls mention creating a “fan club” for another character. You don’t think that it would fit, but it does. This book was certainly written with the goal of having sequel(s); currently on track for 3. My favorite quote from the story was:

“‘Everyone keeps telling me to forget about them, but I can’t just let them go.’ Wren’s voice is fierce. ‘Then don’t. I haven’t.’ ‘Doesn’t it make it harder?’ ‘Yes,’ she answers. ‘But I don’t want an easy life. I want a meaningful one.’” Pg 232-233

This appears multiple times in the dialogue in different forms but is kind of the fire behind many of the characters’ fight(s).

Overall: This was a good book. However, there wasn’t anything to push it into a great book. I have a good interest in the next two books and will follow up with review on those as I get to them. 4/5 stars