#I laugh shit like this off as the mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever but in reality it's so much worse

[serpentargo]

Hello, can I please have some sambucky fic recommendations??

okay this is gonna be long (these are all my personal favourites, if you were to ask me to choose one of them i would rather die hehehheh)

feel free to add more everybody!!

a great cuddler (and maybe more) by finnicklover69 on ao3 (word count: 2470)

Summary: Bucky doesn't convey his feelings very well. Eventually, he gets the hang of it. 

still feel the pull of you by napricot on ao3 (word count: 44382) (p.s. this was written before tfatws came out, but it’s so unique and amazingly written. definetely worth reading)

Summary: "The frantic pulse of fear doesn’t ease until Sam catches sight of Barnes for the first time since the end of the battle: he’s dirty and disheveled, and still, somehow, impossibly, the best thing Sam’s ever seen. The gallop of Sam’s heart slows, and the tightness in his lungs eases so suddenly that it’s like he’s gone buoyant, ready to float away without the help of any wings. Barnes turns as if he can sense Sam looking at him, and when he meets Sam’s eyes, he smiles, and it’s the brightest damn thing on this battlefield, a shock of sweetness in the midst of so much dark bitterness and confusion. Sam smiles back, giddy with joy and relief.

He thinks, thank God Bucky’s okay.

Then he thinks, wait, what the fuck?"

After realizing there are some unexpected side effects for those who've been brought back to life after the Snap, Sam and Bucky slowly but surely learn that if they want to be loved, they must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known [via soul bond].

When We’re Old and Gay by 42hrb on ao3 (word count: 3724)

Summary:  “The paparazzi will get pictures from our wedding and call it a friendship ceremony.” Sam was frowning at his phone. “We’ll have a one bedroom apartment in the Avengers retirement community in 50 years and they’ll talk about how we’re such good buddies.”

weary traveler by mistilteinn on ao3  (word count: 15000)

Summary: come close, weary traveler,

rest your head on shoulder mine.

though your feet drag in the night,

you have crossed a hundred lands

and burned under the sun’s light.

“Coulda’ used the shield,” he can’t help but say, still half breathless. Sam rolls his eyes, tinted red by his flight goggles, and shoves him away. It’s enough to knock his equilibrium off, and for a moment, Bucky’s dazed. He looks up at the clear blue sky in wonderment.

Maybe Steve’s watching them from up there, he thinks. If he is, he’s definitely laughing his ass off right now.

What I've Been Living For by OhHelloFandoms123 on ao3 (word count: 2828)

Summary: He grabs his keys and starts heading out. He’s going to see Bucky again. He was nervous, excited…He’s never felt happier. “Sam,” Sarah teased, “looks like your boyfriend arrived.”

“Thanks, but he’s not my boyfriend.” he chuckled.

“The kids started calling him ‘Uncle Bucky’, might as well be your husband.”

OR

Post-TFATWS Finale where soft feelings and emotions happen.

Louisiana Sun by Siancore on ao3 (word count: 1499)

Summary: “Thanks for today,” Sarah said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Haven’t seen my big brother smile like that in a while.”

“He’s always happiest when he’s helpin’ people,” said Bucky with a fond smile that caused his eyes to crinkle in the corners.

“That is true, but that’s not what I mean,” said Sarah, offering Bucky a small, knowing grin. “I meant that he was smiling like that because of you.”

a thread of guessing (with goodness at the end) by milucient (hopefulChange) on ao3 (word count: 1963)

Summary: Sam comes to think that his feelings are more than he lets on. Bucky sees it too.

Static in the Dark by wickedwitchcraft on ao3 (word count: 4989)

Summary: Prompt from abc-easy-as-123 on tumblr: So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

where you belong by faerialchemist on ao3 (word count: 7204)

Summary: “Wait, what do you mean ‘that’s good enough’?” Bucky managed to ask, matching Sam’s stride before he could be left in the dust on the docks.

Sarah gave him a small grin that Bucky couldn’t help but return. “C’est mignon, Sam—”“No, no, we are not going there,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head at his sister before returning his attention to Bucky. “And I just meant that it’s good you don’t know French.” A smirk slipped onto his lips. “We can talk shit about you in front of your face and you won’t have a clue.”

(The Wilson family speaks Louisiana French. Bucky doesn't. He finds a home with them all the same.)

something gave you the nerve (to touch my hand) by lovecamedown on ao3 (word count: 10738)

Summary: a reimagining of the hand holding in 1.05: what if they kissed in that moment?

and the aftermath, navigating this new territory.

/

“She thinks it’s weird I don’t call you my boyfriend,”

“Huh,” Bucky remarks indiscernibly. “Do you think it’s weird?”

Sambucky Stories by Trode19 on ao3 [an updating series] 

Summary: A collection of Sambucky stories I’ve written, all together for easier reading :)

i believe in you (so get over yourself) by bothsexuals on ao3 [an updating series] (p.s. OH GOD DO I LOVE THIS ONE pls this series is so so good)

Summary: A series of me being really good at writing sambucky despite watching like, ten minutes worth of content.

[kenanda]

DEAL

Words: 1,3k Rating: MATURE Ship: LonelyEyes | Jonah-Elias/Peter Lukas Tags: established relationship; pre-negotiated kink; slight d/s tones; slight exhibitionism; kissing; kissing against a wall; M/M; drinking; evil old men in love (and horny!)

Disclaimer: These characters DO NOT belong to me, they are the property of Rusty Quill's The Magnus Archives.

WARNING: This work has content not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, or in any way bothered by what's in the tags, DO NOT READ!

This work is a fill for the following prompt: 53 - kiss against a wall

Hope I managed to do it some justice. I had no idea where I was going with this at first, but I'm happy with how it turned out!! Once again, thank you for the prompt @nammikisulora! <3

DEAL

-

It wasn’t often that they went out to drink. Elias preferred the quiet of his own office, or the privacy of his home, where he could put on some jazz and a robe, and look out of his window while sipping expensive red wine.

Sometimes, he got to see something interesting, such as the neighbour’s wife and their dutiful plumber, who always seemed to display extra care towards the piping system of that particular flat. Elias had considered pulling on some strings just to see what would come out of it, but that was the Web’s style, not his.

His was to watch, and more often than not, to get a laugh out of it.

“You really do have too much free time on your hands,” Peter chastised when Elias told him, and knocked back the rest of his drink. “Sure you don’t have anything better to do with your power?”

Peter looked positively ravishing under the green neon light of the pub, not only to Elias, but to anybody who looked at him. Peter was a big man, and a rather dashing one if you asked Elias, despite the general paleness and the dark circles under his eyes. It was more than expected that people looked at him — and with a nudge from Elias, they certainly did.

Why wouldn’t they? Peter was his husband, and he wanted them to know that the golden ring on his finger had been put there by him.

“Sure,” Elias chuckled. “I could watch you.”

Peter shuddered. “Please, don’t. The mere idea of it gives me the chills. There are far too many eyes here already.”

Elias looked around. It was still early in the evening, and there were only a few people in there with them, but their eyes followed their every movement.

Elias scratched his chin, then gave Peter a toothy smile.

“We could go somewhere else if you’d like.”

Peter was up on his feet the second Elias finished the sentence, and Elias had to stifle a laugh.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Elias let Peter go ahead while he settled the bill. Peter really did hate socials, but every now and again he agreed to these small meetings because he knew that what came afterwards was worth it.

Elias was a man of his word, always had been; he knew how to repay the effort of others with great generosity, and no little amount of enthusiasm in Peter’s case.

The fact that Peter had managed to endure three hours of Elias showing him off to a small audience (small, but still larger than last time. Progress!) was thrilling on its own.

Elias stepped outside to find a grey dusk of biting breeze and yellow street lights, and Peter puffing out cigarette smoke up in the air.

“All done?” he asked.

Elias didn’t reply, only stepped up and took the cigarette while looking into Peter’s eyes. He gave the item a long drag, then slowly released the smoke through lips and nostrils.

Peter’s gaze lingered on his lips for a split second, then drew away quickly.

Oh, this was lovely. Peter’s pining was to Elias sweet torture, for what could be more agonising, more sould-splitting to someone who relished in loneliness, than the urge of seeking out another’s touch?

“Come on,” Elias called. Peter followed.

They walked some distance into narrow streets, Elias leading the way into quiet places, away from the all the hubbub of a Friday evening — though it was still there. A presence, an unbearable knowledge of hundreds of people just a few blocks away.

Peter behaved well and never called the fog upon them, but the tense gait in which he carried himself gave him away.

“Wait,” Elias said, suddenly. “I believe there’s a group of people coming.”

Peter looked at him as if he’d just received the worst news of his life, but he stood there, next to Elias, waiting for said group to draw nearer.

Their voices grew in volume as they approached; there were perhaps seven or eight of them. Elias watched Peter like a hawk from the corner of his eye, but refrained from reading his mind. This was their agreement. Peter would endure this, the mortifying ordeal of being seen, desired, and then Elias would give him what he really wanted.

Before the group got too close to them, though, Elias pulled Peter into an alley. It was dark and the smell of old piss and garbage was almost unbearable, but the way that Peter sagged against a brick wall and sighed with relief had Elias chuckling.

“Are you alright, love?” Elias asked, after Peter had recomposed himself. He received only a curt nod in response. “Good.”

Elias stepped forward, into Peter’s space where he fit so well, and Peter leaned against his forehead.

“Thought you were really going for it this time,” Peter said.

“No, you’ve done enough. Was it worth it, though?”

Peter nodded.

“Masochist,” Elias said softly. Peter snorted, then went quiet. Ah, yes, this part.

“Come,” Elias whispered.

Nearby, the group from before passed them and soon were no longer heard. For the first time, Peter didn’t pay them mind; the way he was looking at Elias’ mouth was making the latter man all sorts of warm.

It took Elias pulling him by the collar to make Peter act. They started out slow, just a mere brush of lips, more breath than touch. Peter’s hair was soft under Elias’ palm, so he locked a fist around it, then gently released. Peter groaned.

“Yes,” he sighed, then gave in.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Elias knew that they were probably far too old for these little games, for making out in a dirty alley like two teenagers stealing whatever touches they could manage before they got caught. He knew that, he told himself that, but the part of his brain responsible for keeping him from embarrassing himself just did not work at times like this.

Why would he care about anything other than pressing Peter against that dirty wall and kissing him until his face was hot from beard burn? Peter was so big, but he yielded so easily. Elias could have him hard in his trousers just like this, and there was something so primal in it, so primitive. It kept Elias coming for more, because it had nothing to do with the Eye or his powers.

When Elias pulled away, Peter chased after him, and held Elias’ face in place to bite at his lower lip. He was breathing hard through his nose, and the weight of his body made Elias bend backwards a little bit. It was almost too much to bear, but Peter needed this, needed him, and Elias loved it.

Just as it had started though, the kiss ended — both coming down from a shared frenzy that had had them nearly climbing on top of each other against that wall. Elias was sure that he would have to toss these boxers in the bin when he got home, but even that could wait.

Elias watched as Peter sagged again, head falling back with a thump. Elias caressed his hair.

“If you’re planning on staying away for another three whole months, you’d better warn me first. This,” Elias said, and pecked him gently on the lips. “Could have gone for a lot longer if I’d known you’d be this hungry. A lot longer.”

Peter huffed out a laugh. “It was just enough, Elias, thank you.”

“Like hell it was.” Elias smacked him on the chest and pulled him up. “We’re going to my flat. Now.”

Peter could only agree and follow, but the shit-eating grin on his face was very telling. It always made him look unbearably boyish, which had to be against the law somewhere. Elias had always been weak to Peter’s looks, and walking around flaunting his husband always felt obscenely good — but there were parts of him, such as this (the need and the surrender that came of it), that Elias would damn sure keep only to himself.

[feather-aesthetic]

The Rewards of Being Loved

A/N: Wrote this when I watched the show last year, never finished it... well today I finished it.

Rating: T

Fandom: The Haunting of Hill House

Pairing: Sisterly Shirley and Theo

Summary: Theo explains her powers to Shirley, and they grow closer because of it.

Words: 2,500

Night has fallen on the Crain-Harris household, and the oft-lively home is still, and mostly quiet.  In the living room, two figures sit side-by-side on the couch, a cheesy Netflix rom-com playing on the television.  Theo Crain curls her legs underneath her, internally rolling her eyes at Shirley’s choice of movie.  Even though she doesn’t live right next door in Shirley’s guest house anymore, she still visits at least once a week, often bringing Trish along with her for dinner.  

This week, though, with Kevin chaperoning Jayden’s Boy Scout camping trip and Allie at a sleepover for the evening, Trish invented a work function to attend, not-so-gently encouraging Theo to spend some quality time with her sister.  And it’s not like she minds hanging out with her sister, in fact a growing part of her is so, so excited, but this movie is just… awful.  Theo sighs again as the female lead complains to her friend group about her love life.  She’s trying to contain her boredom, but she must not be subtle enough because Shirley shifts beside her, taking in a deep breath.

“Theo?”

“Sorry,” Theo sighs.  “This just really isn’t my thing.”

“What?  No, this movie is terrible,” Shirley hastens to reassure her.  “That’s not what I…”  Theo turns to her.  It’s not like Shirley to avoid speaking her mind, so whatever she’s thinking about, it must be pretty important.

“What’s wrong?”  Shirley’s eyes flicker around the room for a moment before settling on Theo, meeting her steady gaze.  She laughs, then, breaking the eye contact.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re making your therapist face.”  Theo cracks a grin, huffing out a relieved laugh, and the suddenly somber atmosphere is broken.  Theo scrubs at her face, trying to wipe away the so-called ‘therapist expression’ and rearrange her features into something more sisterly, less professional.

“Sorry, sorry.  What’s up, Shirl?”  Her sister looks at her for a moment, fond smile playing on her lips, and Theo tries not to bask in it too much.  

“Can you tell me about your... abilities?”  Her gloveless hands feel suddenly bare.  Theo instinctively stiffens, clamming up despite her best efforts to relax, and she can see Shirley cringe slightly.  To her credit, though, she pushes on, trying to explain.

“I tried so hard, for so long, to pretend that we were normal, and—I want to understand you, Theo.”  Theo pauses, processing for such a long moment that Shirley almost dismisses the entire idea.  The movie goes on quietly in the background, providing a muted white noise to their conversation.  

“What do you want to know?”  Her voice is low and quiet, so much softer than the usual commanding tone or calm therapist voice she uses.  Of all her siblings, Shirley was always the most resistant to Theo’s unique abilities.  Theo explained it away as disbelief, or maybe even a fear of having her innermost thoughts broadcast over the surface of Theo’s skin.  To have her openly talk about it means more to Theo than her sister will ever know.  

“What happens when you touch something?”  Alright, so they’re starting from the basics.

“When I touch an object,” Theo begins, twisting her fingers together, “I experience the memories and emotions attached to that object.  The stronger the emotion, the easier it is for me to see the memory.”  Her face darkens as she recalls the couch in that foster family’s basement, the terror and revulsion that overcame her as she stared up at the wooden ceiling.  

“And when you touch another person?”  

“I can feel their emotions, see things about them, things that they might want to keep hidden.  I can tell if they’re lying.”  An image of Luke, his young eyes filled with trust, gazing dejectedly up at her while he described his experience in the basement of Hill House, flashes through her mind.  Nell, and that terrible nothingness that had infected her like a plague.

“So if you touched me right now, you would feel what I’m feeling?”  Theo nods, a slow incline of her chin.  “Do you… want to?” Shirley asks hesitantly.  Theo shrugs.  

“Sometimes,” she responds, deliberately misinterpreting the question.  She sighs when Shirley fixes her with a look, one that lets her know her older sister sees right through her.

“Why?” Theo asks, years of secrecy making her blunt.  Now it’s Shirley’s turn to shrug, albeit more cautiously than her sister had.  

“I don’t know, you just talk about it like you only ever feel bad things.  Don’t you want to feel good things sometimes?”  

“Of course I do, I just—I never know what I’m going to feel until I’m touching someone, and then it’s too late.”  Shirley flicks her eyes away, her equivalent of biting her lip nervously, then offers, 

“I’m feeling good things right now.”  Theo looks down at her recently ungloved hands, considering.  It’s not just an offering for Theo’s sake, but a genuine ceding of ground on Shirley’s part as well.  There’s a quote Theo has read in an article somewhere; “If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”  In Theo’s case, her knowledge of whoever she touches is total, and she understands how terrifying that notion can be.  For her sister to offer this is a huge show of trust.  Shirley still isn’t looking at her, but she brings her head up sharply when she feels Theo hesitantly brush fingertips over her palm.  Theo gasps at the sudden bursts of love, of pride, of joy that wash over her, filling up her chest with a welling sort of light and tingling down the backs of her forearms.  Their gazes were locked, but Theo can’t experience her sister’s overwhelming love for her while looking into her eyes, so she drops her vision to their touching hands.  They’re side-by-side on the couch, facing each other, and Shirley’s gaze is still locked on her face, studying her expressions.

“You feel happiness in your arms,” Theo murmurs, and Shirley’s face lights up with delight even as her cheeks tinge pink from the observation.  

“You feel the way I experience emotions?”  Theo grins at the revelation that’s just dawning on Shirley, and because she can’t contain two people’s happiness coursing through her behind a stony expression any longer.  Her knuckles are resting in Shirley’s palm now, and she slowly lifts her hand to let the contact fall away.  

“Mom said I was sensitive,” she offers as a response.  There’s a moment where Theo’s afraid she might have ruined the moment by bringing up their mother, but then Shirley grins a little mischievously.

“Well I know you’re sensitive, Theo,” she teases, elbowing her gently.  Theo relaxes into her role as a sibling, rolling her eyes and shoving Shirley in retaliation.

“Shut up, Shirl.”  But the amused look hasn’t left Shirley’s eyes, and Theo recoils slightly at a nudge to her side.

“You know, you really should be nicer to your older sister, Theo.”  Theo squirms at the continued jostling, trying to ignore the fingers that have drifted sneakily over to her sides and are prodding at the flesh there.  

“Shirley,” she whines, hoping that it will be enough to deter her sister.  Shirley grins wider, poking in between her ribs in places she knows Theo can’t stand.  Theo’s been making a valiant effort of staring at the ceiling with her lips tightly sealed, hoping that her sister will get bored and abandon the game before it’s begun, but at this new attack she’s unable to remain still, and her hands shoot up to catch Shirley’s wrists just as the first burst of true laughter escapes her.  

“Don’t,” she pleads, but it’s more breathless and giggly than serious, and they both know that if she really meant it Theo would be halfway across the room by now.  Shirley takes this as an invitation, and when her grip shifts and skin brushes skin, Theo gets the barest glimpse of her plans just before she’s bowled over by one Shirley Crain-Harris.  Quick fingers bypass her makeshift defenses like she’d never thrown up her arms at all, gently pinching at sides and ribs in a way that Shirley knows drives Theo crazy.  

It’s been decades since Shirley has done this, but she still remembers all her sister’s ticklish spots from when they used to play together.  The spots on her sides that make her bubbly laughter morph into more of a cackle, the way she squirms harder when Shirley pinches at her hipbones, the redness in her cheeks and the push of her heels into the couch when fingers manage to sneak under her arms; they’re still familiar reactions, but Shirley confirms each one with a widening smirk, reveling in her rediscovered power.  

Theo, for her part, is in hysterics, bubbly giggles jumping or turning into squeaks when Shirley switches spots.  

“Shirl!” she gasps between bouts of laughter, not ready to beg her to stop but unwilling to just lay there and take it.  It’s been ages since she’s been tickled, especially by her sister, and she’s almost forgotten how simultaneously fun and maddening it can be.  It makes her want to jump out of her skin in the best way possible.  

“What is it, Theo?” Shirley asks, as though they’re having a normal conversation and she isn’t tickling her sister half to death.  Whatever response Theo was formulating is cut off by her squeal when Shirley unexpectedly finds a weak spot at the base of her ribs.  Shirley laughs at the reaction, squeezing sporadically and milking the spot for all it’s worth.  

“Well, that’s new,” she teases, lobster-clawing her way up Theo’s ribs before sneaking back down to attack the recently discovered tickle spot.  Theo squeals again, throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut at the sensation.  She didn’t even know she was that ticklish before now, and the feeling is quickly becoming too much for her to handle.  

“Shit, Shihihihirl!” she half-shrieks, thrashing.  She’s lost all hope of dignity, and can now only hope that her sister will have mercy.  Fortunately for her, Shirley seems to understand that she’s just about reached her limit, and retreats to the other end of the couch, bearing a sly grin that only a sound victory can bring.  Shirley leans back against the arm of the couch, stretching her legs across the piece of furniture towards her sister and listening as Theo gasps for breath and tries to pull herself together.  

“Been a while since we’ve done that, huh?” Shirley murmurs, smile still tugging at her lips.  Theo sits up slowly, pink-faced and giggling while she recovers from the playful torment.  

“Yeah,” she agrees, a certain lightness in her tone that Shirley hasn’t heard since their childhood.  “You know what we haven’t done in even longer?”  She’s crawling up the couch menacingly now, biting her lip to contain the brilliant smile threatening to break through.  Shirley has a feeling she knows exactly where this is going, but she allows herself to sink further into the cushions, tamping down on a grin of her own.

“What’s that?”  Theo is looming over her, fingers poised to strike, and Shirley shrinks back but doesn’t move to stop her.  If she plays it cool, doesn’t provoke her sister by trying to run away or fend her off (turning it into a competition will only make it worse for Shirley when Theo finally manages to pin her down) then maybe she’ll go easy on her.  Her ploy fails, however, when Theo raises an eyebrow at her, tells her she knows exactly what Shirley’s trying to do, and pounces.  

“No!” Shirley squeals when Theo goes straight for some of her worst spots, spidering quick fingers across her stomach and fluttering gently around her neck.  She scrunches up as best she can, writhing between her sister and the back of the couch.  Unlike Theo, Shirley’s squirming is actually productive, and she actively tries to escape, so Theo has a much harder time getting her to keep still long enough to tickle with any intensity.  Even without much tickling, though, Shirley’s a mess—arching her back and squealing whenever the lightest touches connect with her skin, even through her clothes.  Theo might not fight back, but Shirley is way more ticklish than she ever was.  

She looks up to find Theo grinning at her, and though she can���t feel emotions like Theo can, the love shining through her sister’s eyes and through her smile is clear.  She reaches out, crippled by the fits of uncontrollable giggles Theo’s fingers are causing, to launch a counterattack, searching out Theo’s sides and digging in until the other woman backs off, unable to concentrate enough to continue her assault.  Before Shirley can get herself together, though, she feels an elbow lock around her ankles, and then nails are scraping their way up her bare feet.  She shrieks, arching her back and kicking her legs in Theo’s grasp.  Theo tightens her hold in response, grin so wide her cheeks ache, and scribbles fingers all over her soles.  Shirley loses it, dissolving into hearty, unrestrained laughter punctuated with little squeals when fingers dip dangerously close to the inside of her arches or underneath her toes.  

“Theo!  Theohoho—nohohohoho!”  The pleas are barely intelligible through her laughter, but the torment ends quickly when Theo’s fingers start touching the skin of her feet and suddenly Theo is kicking out at nothing, overcome with the same breathless laughter pinning Shirley to the couch.  Theo lets go of her ankles in an effort to escape the contact at the same time Shirley realises what’s happened.  Shirley’s hoarse laughter turns genuine at Theo’s predicament, while Theo retires to her end of the couch to mock-sulk.  

“That’s so unfair,” she grumbles, expression forming the beginnings of a pout.  Shirley offers her a self-satisfied smile, stretching her back against the arm of the couch.

“For you, maybe.”  Theo’s displeased expression only deepens.  She leans forward, and for a moment Shirley thinks she’s going to try for a rematch and tenses up, but Theo just drapes herself across Shirley’s thighs, head resting on her stomach.  One of Shirley’s hands goes automatically to the top of her sister’s head, beginning to smooth out the ruffled curls with slow, soothing strokes.  Theo hasn’t been so tactile with her in decades, and she’s loathe to overstep… but her hair is still just as soft as when they were kids cuddled up in bed together, and maybe Shirley has missed this more than she realised.  Theo squirms a bit, getting more comfortable, and mumbles something that Shirley doesn’t quite catch over the credits music of the romcom they were watching.  She hums questioningly to get Theo to repeat herself.

“Love you,” Theo says, half asleep at the feeling of her sister petting her hair.  Shirley smiles down at her, a tear deep inside her heart mending at the words.

“Love you too, Theo.  Completely.”

[criticalrolo]

2, 6, 8, 13, 20, 25, 28, 33, 41, 43, 46, 48, 49, and 50 for Thalia and Limwen (I tried to keep it short, honest, I did! But the questions were just too interesting to avoid asking!)

STRAP IN FOLKS

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

Thalia: Nope!

Limwen: I’m sure she had some ranking in the army? Idk I made her when I was like 14 I didn’t know anything. She’s Ranger Limwen

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Thalia: She was homeschooled by her dad and her stepmom. It was pretty basic stuff that morphed into an apprenticeship as a healer with her stepmom. She was average at all the technical aspects, but really took to the more human side of keeping patients calm and knowing how to cure them or keep them comfortable. She enjoyed learning about how the different herbs and medicines her stepmom used worked the most. 

Limwen: She and her brothers were tutored together, but it was never her favorite thing. She’d much rather be running around outside playing or training with her weapons than reading books inside. She liked learning about nature, biology, etc., but didn’t care for mathematics and didn’t come to appreciate things like history and literature until later in life. 

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? 

Thalia: She has a cat named Tulip at home :)

Limwen: No pets since she can’t bring them traipsing around the universe. She likes animals for the food they provide jlaksdkfas but could probably be convinced to get a dog if she ever finds a way to settle down.

13. What is their least favourite food?

Thalia: Anything overly bitter is Thalia’s ENEMY. So like vinegar on salads is the worst thing ever

Limwen: If something is way too sugary it sends Limwen reeling, like if it tastes like it’ll give her a heart attack it’s a NO from her.

20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?

Thalia: I don’t know if she’s ever had the chance to see a musical performed, but she does like music. Her little sister Gili has a really beautiful singing voice which she loved getting to hear. She’ll probably sing along if she likes the song.

Limwen: NAH. Music in general is fine but I’m trying to picture Limwen sitting through a musical and I can NOT see it happening

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

Thalia: I think she would find something like Parks and Rec hilarious. Nothing too edgy or dark, but things that are exaggerated and ridiculous are pretty funny to her. She’s got a sense of humor and laughs pretty easily.

Limwen: She finds gallows humor funny and is the type to make jokes in the middle of fighting for her life and like, never at any other time. So like things that are BORDERLINE straight up tragic but really walk the line between super sad and funny. Otherwise she’s not very funny alkdsjfasd

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Thalia: Oh her biggest fear is that she’ll never rescue her parents and her family will be broken forever :( In general she’s scared of being alone and failure. When she’s scared she really tends to knuckle down and push through until she either feels better or cracks. 

Limwen: She’s also scared she’ll never get home and she’ll basically die alone on some strange planet so far away from everything she knows. In general she’s always on edge waiting to get phased away at any second. She tends to shut down when she’s nervous, like laser focus on whatever is causing her fear and ignoring everything else until it goes away. 

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?

Thalia: Bisexual! She finds… competence attractive I guess? She finds someone attractive when they can get shit done. I would say she’s also got a thing for Tall People, which could be a lot of people since she’s pretty short herself. In a relationship, she would need someone who is good at Listening, for sure. Also, if this person would keep her from pushing herself too hard and remembering her limits, that would be great too.

Limwen: Also bisexual. She’s currently head over heels in love with Cassiopeia, someone who is really In Love With Life and finds joy in just existing in the world. She’s pretty and lovely both physically and emotionally. In a relationship, she needs someone who won’t let her get away with wallowing, who is willing to call her out on her bullshit, and someone who will let Limwen also take care of them. She feels better when she can help someone else so if they won’t let her in then she won’t make much progress in the relationship you know?

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?

Thalia: For all her involvement with angels, the celestial plane, and her own Divine Soul status, she actually never was very religious. I guess it’s different when you can just talk to an angel when you need to. She sees religion as a curiosity, since her own experience with the Divine has been so different, so she’s pretty ambivalent about religious people but thinks some of them can end up going WAY over the top.

Limwen: She’s not religious. She’s been chucked all over space and no god ever stepped in to stop any of that, and she’s seen a million different religions that all seemed pretty much the same to her: lots of rules, not a lot of payoff. She doesn’t have a very high opinion of religion or religious people.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

Thalia: She usually does! (we love a 20 Charisma BABE) She definitely made a good impression on the party since they showed up in the middle of a fight she was having, the monk died, and she brought him back to life with Sariel’s help (pretty great way to get her foot in the door). She usually introduces herself with a handshake and a smile, she’s friendly.

Limwen: Significantly less friendly than Thalia. She usually comes across as gruff and like she’s on edge, so she doesn’t make fantastic first impressions. Which is usually an accurate impression. She comes off as someone worried about something all the time, which is true.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? 

Thalia: Loves parties! She likes gatherings of people and is comfortable making small talk and putting people at ease. She’d make a great host if she wasn’t Off Adventuring. If she was at a party against her will, she’d probably try to make the most of it and find a convenient excuse to leave early when she could.

Limwen: Oh god she’s being forced to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being Seen and possibly Known. She is an INTROVERT who can barely come up with things to say to her best friend, parties are NOT her thing. She was definitely dragged there by Cass and she’ll do her absolute best to have fun for her, but afterwards she’ll just probably go lay down outside all night lajkdsfad

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

Thalia: Most valued object right now is her sword, which is essentially an anchor for her connection with Sariel while he uses her as like... an angelic horcrux. Other than that, she has a drawing of her family that her sister Wyn did when she was little. She looks at it when she’s feeling particularly lonely. She’s very sentimental, and takes this stuff with her everywhere.

Limwen: She has her bow which is the only constant between all these different dimensions. She didn’t have anything else on her when she got zapped for the first time, so she doesn’t have anything to be sentimental over. 

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

Thalia: Sword, family picture, first aid/herbalism kit, bedroll, rope, diamond to Revivify, plant identification book, anything sariel could conceivably give her/direct her towards

Limwen: Bow, arrows, notebook to keep track of jumps, photo with Cass, probably pressed flowers or anything else Cass has given her, rope, first aid kit, tinder, compass

[blessuswithblogs]

Katsura Hashino is a Big Fat Creep and Other Observations

(for the record all uses of the word “queer” in this post are meant in the academic sense as shorthand for a wide umbrella group of gender and sexual minorities and not as a slur i hope that is evident from my past history and status as Big Gay Bitch Who Loves Girls but let it never be said i don’t cover my ass)

A few weeks ago, Catherine: Full Body Edition or whatever gross subtitle it got was released. Catherine has had a very checkered history as one of those games that is just kind of slimy, though it has endured with a cult following and a surprisingly successful competitive community by way of the game's multiplayer mode where you compete to see who can climb The Dream Sex Tower the best. Honestly, I don't know that much about Catherine because it is difficult to think of a game that repulses me more on a visceral level, but I want to do my due diligence and not talk out my ass. One of Catherine's initial claims to fame was that it was by Atlus Japan, specifically the same people who made the much beloved Persona games. This is evident in the game's art, music, overall style of delivery, and being basically hate speech.

The original Catherine was a greasy, misogynistic mess with some really vile politics about trans people in particular. Deadnaming your own fictional character in the credits is some next level petty malice. Full Body returns with, stupendously, a double down on this ideology that is actually kind of comical in how convoluted it gets in trying to decry the Degenerate Queer Lifestyle. The game adds a scene with Rin, who is apparently a gay crossdresser from space(???????), getting slapped away and running away crying from their love interest after he learns The Terrible Truth. In another game, with a different writing team, this could have been a teachable moment about the destructive consequences of taking too narrow a view of human sexuality and gender expression, but as it stands it's just another tiresome example of Trans Panic with a sheepish admonishment from the other characters that gosh maybe slapping their hand away was a mean thing to do.

So we're already firing on all cylinders here, but the best is yet to come. The bulk of the outcry comes from the addition of a weird "true ending" cutscene where Catherine, who is also from space, goes back in time to make everybody's life better. Or something. This is already pretty stupid on the face of it because its Fucking Time Travel Out of Nowhere, but the scene then depicts a pre-transition Erica, the game's trans character who got deadnamed in the credits the last time. There has been a lot of exceptionally tedious discussion about exactly when this scene takes place in the game's chronology and what it means for Erica, and some brain geniuses have tied their thinkmeats into pretzel shapes to prove definitively that all this means is that she delayed her transition in this Better Timeline, that might not actually be better, because Catherine is weird and selfish, maybe. And. Fine. Sure. Okay. Let's accept that for now. Given the game's previous track record, and continuing insistence on using Erica's pretransition name in the credits even in the rerelease, it is meanspirited at best to show her before her transition at all (many real life trans people would be utterly mortified for such a thing to happen to them) and overall just in poor taste and pretty lousy writing at that because it's so unclear what any of this actually means. Since the game has not yet received an official english localization, the context of this scene is to begin with muddled by amateur translators on the internet all with slightly conflicting interpretations of the scene. It's a fucking mess, by and large.

So I would disagree that this is a fake controversy manufactured by those damnable essjaydubyas. Even with the most charitable interpretation possible, it's still just really sketchy and gross. Erica's english voice actress, who seems to be very fond of the character, has been vocal about her dissatisfaction with the new scenes on twitter and has recently come out to say that the localization team is going to try and take some steps to make things less blatantly hateful. Between this and Jennifer Hale's recent tweet about it being time to grab our pitchforks in response to Activision-Blizzard's mass layoffs, I'm starting to think that voice actresses are pretty cool. I mean honestly I always thought that but we're getting off topic. One of the top competitive Catherine players, who was by all accounts really hyped for the release of Full Body, just straight up said on twitter that he was quitting the game because he couldn't support something like that in good conscience. I don't know if he's remained consistent on this position since, but it was a bold statement, to say the least.

Now, whenever an incident like this happens, the inevitable string of More-Progressive-Than-Thou white boys who watched an anime once and thought the bouncing titties were a little much appears to start pontificating about the cause of such untoward elements in media. And it's basically all just a bunch of Orientalist bullshit. Every time. For whatever reason, people still really love to be racist towards Japanese people because it's still sort of socially acceptable when couched in the language of "oh japan!!! ecks dee" and so the neverending procession of softboi neckbeards declared with confidence that Atlus's continual inclusion of Actual Hate Speech towards LGBTQ+ people was the result of the inscrutable Japanese Mind and its Mysterious, Antiquated Culture. Many mentions of the philosophy of Wa, wherein the nail that stands out gets pounded down, and lots of very lovely psuedointellectual claptrap. Evidently, people just seem to think that queer people don't live in Japan, or that they don't fight just as hard as we do for equal rights and protections under the law. They do live there, and they do fight as hard as we do. Obviously. You fucking imbeciles.

In their quest to clearly illustrate their moral and intellectual superiority to the backward, collectivist Asiatic Peoples, these highly reasonable and enlightened manboys forsook a very important logical principle: Occam's Razor. Sure, you could blame jApAnEsE cUlTuRe for Atlus's impropieties and just conveniently ignore all of the fantastic queer media it has produced in recent years like My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, Horou Muskou, Nier Automata, etc. Or you could go for the simpler and more logically consistent option: Katsura Hashino is a big fat creep. Who is Hashino, you ask? He is the director of every Persona game since 3, as well as Catherine, and all of these games' gross shit and self-contradictory themes of self-acceptance and rebellion against an unust society (unless you're gay, ew) can probably be traced to him and his gaggle of accomplices. In addition to the fact that Atlus games not by Hashino's team tend to just. not have these problems to nearly as large a degree or even at all, Hashino himself has gone on record saying some really kind of hilariously backwards shit. Most infamously, when asked why in Persona 3 literally all of your social links with girls ended up with Hot Makeout Sessions regardless of like. Previously Committed to Relationships. Hashino simply said he couldn't imagine friendships between boys and girls. So that's where his brain is at. Since subsequent games in the series graciously allowed the player the option to not be a Huge Cheating Bastard, one can assume either his moral development has progressed past early puberty or somebody on the team convinced him this wasn't actually a normal thing to think. Given the man's output, I would say it's probably the latter.

It is because of this man's decisions and behavior that so many people are simply unwilling to give Full Body the benefit of the doubt. The game's director is, quite simply, a well known louse, and not in the endearing, Roger Smith way. Once again, it requires far fewer leaps in logic to assume that Hashino is just being a bigoted creep again than to go through some fuckin galaxy brain Kingdom Hearts-esque dot-connecting to justify it as just a LITTLE BIT bigoted not REALLY SUPER bigoted, or simply blaming the whole ordeal on some strange ineffable property of the Japanese Character. He's a gremlin! An overgrown manchild with a warped view of human interaction and society put in charge of games about exploring those concepts for.... reasons. My bet is that his dad knew somebody and then Persona 3 was successful enough for the rest of Atlus to just go "alright fine let him do it while we do mainline games". Unfortunately, Persona became so popular that the mainline games sort of switched places and became side-projects, at least in the eyes of the Western consumer base (which let's be real is the only perspective that any of these Serious Online Commentators even pretend to care about).

So I would once again caution everyone against just assuming that Japan is some sort of quaint anachronistic country of weird gameshows and backwards social mores. This is both a gross oversimplification of an entire culture and the struggles of their own subgroups and minorities and simply a grand display of lacking self-awareness. Like have you fucking seen the guys in the White House? The preposterous media that gets routinely greenlit on prime time TV, theaters, and digitally? Don't make me laugh. The West has no claim to any sort of progressive superiority to anybody else. The white cishet bubble of comfortable middle class affluence might distort what you see of the rest of the world, but believe me: we got problems too. Big ones. Even the presupposed bastions of Demsoc Virtue like Sweden have an awful track record of discrimination and eugenics. But Dazzlyn that's different, you cry! All of these groups and forces don't represent the entirety of Western culture! Yes. Exactly. Oppression is not culturally bound like cuisine or art. It is a nasty, universal thing that worms its way into everything, and it will use any excuse it can find to murder and exploit. It's against Christian values! It represents a genetic defect that must be purged! It's ostentatious and immature! The list goes on. And every time you giggle and go "oh those silly japanese" you're just being another expression of the same vile ideas.

I'm going to relate some of my own personal experiences, because as a noted Big Gay Bitch Who Loves Girls, I feel like maybe I have some authority on the matter? Just a little? Enough that if I make a well reasoned argument it can't be dismissed out of hand? Let's hope. So, what's the gayest game I've ever played? Final Fantasy XIV Online: A Realm Reborn. Look yeah I know I'm talking about it again but come back this is important. Final Fantasy is a series that has had a lot of LGBTQ+ undertones pretty much since forever, and while they have largely been in keeping with the times in terms of tact and representation (the Crossdressing Cloud debacle is a deeply bizarre, uncomfortable sequence in a lot of ways but there's also some genuine Good Gay Shit in 7 like Cloud's surprisingly cute and genuine date with Barret. I think. It's... it's been a while.), by God, it was at least there, and 13 had honest to god Lesbians, Harold in Fang and Vanille. I don't want to say it has pedigree, but the series has dabbled. XIV continues on the tradition with a vibrant world that's actually got a lot of characters and NPCs that are just incidentally there and kind of gay. The adventurer couple that befriended the Tonberries in Wanderer's Palace, a vendor that appeared in the Rising cosplaying as Minfilia at her wife's behest, a miqote lady bathing in the oasis that lets on she wouldn't mind having cute girls stare at her instead of grabby boys, every horny Elezen in Ishgard, Samson and Guydelot (shoutouts to Lulumi Lumi), and probably more that I've missed. More than that, though, is that because FFXIV is an MMO, it is by necessity a social space, and in my experience it has been one that has gone out of its way to be inclusive to everybody, from the GMs handling reports of abusive behavior right up to the top decision makers who made same sex player marriages a thing just immediately on its implementation and letting boys wear the gold saucer bunny costume too (albeit after quite a bit of pleading). The game's got a huge queer community of which I am kind of part of sort of. It's one of the reasons I keep coming back to it. Hell, they've recently partnered with a pride group in Australia to have an FFXIV float in a parade. I usually turn my nose up at such things as meaningless corporate grandstanding, but it does seem to be more meaningful than two boy pastas getting married or rainbow colored oreos because like. Cheesy as it sounds, it's more than just a brand to a lot of people, it's a place, sometimes the only place, they can go to feel safe and accepted in a community. Having official, vocal support from the dev team means genuinely a lot, I think.

Now, there is one quality about this game of which I am speaking that might strike you as noteworthy: it is Japanese. It's made by Japanese people, in Japan, under a Japanese company. A middle aged Japanese man goes up on stage in Gunbreaker cosplay to speak in Japanese about the upcoming expansion, while a meme obsessed gremlin translates for him. It's not perfect, there are problems, etcetera, why do I even need to qualify that in 2019, when everything sucks, god. But it's better than most things. I hope that it serves as an example to people that even in the supposedly regressive countries of the world, queer communities are still living, fighting, and sometimes even being heard, and that the only thing you're enriching by dismissing them wholesale as socially backwards is your own internet penis. And nobody fucking cares about that you simpleton. I expect 5.0 to be gayer than ever before because they're taming up with Yoko Taro to do a Nier themed raid and by the 12 Warrior of Light Dazzyn Reed is going to kiss 2B or an equivalent model right on the robot lips.

[holdenmgrudges]

Chapter 5 - Bailsies

I swear I finished this 5 minutes before midnight so technically it’s not late. A little more Sprace and Javid in this chapter. And if you wanted more Jojo and Crutchie, this chapter has them as well. Enjoy.

Or read on AO3 if you prefer.

“Sorry boys, can’t meet up today. But you 2 still should. Test seems hard.” Race put his phone away. It seemed Jojo was bailing on them and without an excuse, which meant he was probably hiding something. Or planning something. Race could hardly surprise Jojo, but Jojo was really good at surprising him.

Race replied to the three-way group chat and Spot and he decided to meet up at their nearest library instead. It wasn’t like Jojo needed the help anyway. Spot was the one that Race was worried about.

Over the past few weeks, Race felt he'd grown somewhat closer to Spot. He wasn't as scared of him anymore. In fact, whenever he saw him, he was glad. He liked having a friend who could potentially beat anyone up. Though, he wasn't exactly sure Spot considered him a friend. Spot was still a bit distant, but he was always grateful. Race felt giddy whenever Spot's smile appeared. Apparently Jojo had noticed because he'd asked him about why he seemed to get excited whenever Spot understood a problem. Race had shrugged and told him it was because he felt like he was being a good teacher.

Of course, Race liked Spot in a more than friendly way. He thought Spot was hot and he'd let Jojo know as much. But when it came to anything more than that, he wouldn't admit it. Not even to himself. He just wanted Spot to like him as a friend, is what he told himself. Jojo had told him he needed to get laid.

Race got to the library early and scouted out an empty table with two seats. He put his feet on the other chair and pulled his math book out of his backpack to go over the sample problems they'd been given to prepare for the test. Within a few minutes, he'd planned out how to explain the harder ones to Spot. He'd be as prepared as he could be.

Race looked up and he paused as he saw Spot near the entrance of the library. The wrestler was wearing a tight red tank top that showed off his arms and curvature of his chest. Race's jaw almost dropped. "Hey, Spot!" he yelled, before remembering where he was. He waited for someone to loudly shush him, but it never happened. Maybe it was because Spot Conlon was in the building and no one wanted to get pounded. As Spot walked over to him, Race couldn't help but watch the guy's chest. He couldn't help but think he wanted Spot to pound him.

"Didn't anyone tell you you're in a library?" Spot asked.

"Huh?" Race had to forcibly look up at the guy's face. Maybe Jojo was right. He needed to get laid.

"You know, shhh." Spot put his finger up to his mouth and Race couldn't help but laugh. He moved his feet and Spot sat down. They immediately started on a problem, but something felt off. Race figured it was because Jojo wasn't there. But then Spot spoke up. "I'm not a library person. Are you a library person?"

It had come out of nowhere, but Race realized that's what felt off. "Fuck no!" he said loudly. He looked around to make sure he hadn't disturbed anyone and then whispered, "They're too quiet."

Spot nodded and got up. "I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Let's eat."

Spot nodded back and grinned, collecting his stuff.

They decided to get burgers at a nearby diner. Spot just dug into his, while Race took bites in between telling a story about how he once bet Jojo he couldn't eat a whole burger in under a minute and other bets he'd made with other friends.

"No wonder you're got at probability," Spot said when he was done, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "You're good at betting and stuff."

"Yep, that's why they call me Racetrack." Spot looked confused.  "'Cause they make bets at the racetracks. The horse racetracks. Ironically, I've never been to one."

"Oh, I thought it's 'cause you run fast. I've seen you on the racetrack. The human racetrack."

Race sipped on his soda and shook his head. "Nah, I'm not even that fast."

"If you say so."

"Why do they call you Spot?" It was something he'd been curious about, but never had the opportunity to ask until now.

"I'm known for spotting at the gym," Spot answered casually. "I liked the name so I told everyone to call me that."

"Huh, I wouldn't have bet on that," he said with a smile.

Spot let out a small laugh and munched on his fries.

The two finished eating and then got back to practicing for their test. Spot was getting it for the most part. He was still nervous about the exam, but having Race practically tutor him made him feel better. Especially when Race told him he was doing well.

Spot’s feelings for Race were more or less the same. Though he’d never admit it, he thought the runner was cute at times and handsome at others. However, it was really the fact that Race was smart that really intrigued him. He knew he shouldn’t, but he had a small crush. Of course, he couldn’t let Race or anyone else know that. He had to remind himself to not stare at the younger guy for more than a second, or even stare at him at all if it was possible.

But when Race said, “Oh hey,” Spot allowed himself to look. Every time he did so, he had to take everything in all at once. The dirty-blonde hair, the deep blue eyes, the soft-looking hand that was reaching out for him. Wait, what? “You got a little something…” Race’s hand touched the corner of Spot’s lip and he wiped a smudge off with his finger. Spot flinched back and Race looked mortified. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Spot forced himself to look down at his book. Race had given him that face a lot over the past weeks and Spot didn’t like it. It was the face everyone gave him. A look of fear. A look he could only get rid of by reassuring him. “No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t like being touched.”

“Oh. Well, still, sorry.” His expression had changed from fear to apologetic, which Spot saw when he looked up to nod. They got back to studying, until they decided to call it a day.

Before they went their separate ways, Spot cleared his throat. He’d been thinking that maybe he was being too harsh. He wanted Race to be comfortable around him. “Hey, just...If you do need to touch me for whatever reason, just warn me.”

“Sure thing.” Race nodded and raised his hand to pat Spot, stopping short of actual skin to skin contact. “Shit, I was gonna do it again. May I?”

Spot chuckled. “You may.”

Race patted him twice on the shoulder and they bid farewell.

Walking home, Spot knew he’d make a mistake. He’d given a guy permission to touch him. Sure, with consent, but somehow Spot knew he’d give the guy consent. It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, except the thought of Race’s touch made Spot’s heart beat faster. Why did Jojo have to bail on them?

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs. Dinner was delicious.” David smiled as Jack spoke. He’d been so charming all throughout dinner, that his nerves about his parents meeting him were practically gone. He could tell his parents were content with Jack, which was all he’d wanted. Not that he didn’t have any confidence in Jack. His parents were just harsh when it came to friends. Or at least the ones Sarah had brought home to meet them, since he never had.

Jack was doing so well, David was willing to forgive Crutchie for bailing. He’d said he had plans with his foster parents for dinner and he couldn’t make it. David was disappointed, but at least Jack was there. His parents had told him if they approved of his friends, they could sleep over. Although, Jack had talked to them enough about the LGBTQ+ Club that David thought they might not let Jack sleep in his room. Or at least not with the door closed.

But after dinner, they informed him otherwise. Either they didn’t suspect that David wasn’t straight, or they trusted him enough not to do anything they wouldn’t want him to do. Though, they’d asked him enough times if he was different, telling him they’d accept him in any way.

After dinner, David and Jack headed to his room where they talked about other trust exercises they could do for the club. The past few weeks they'd started each meeting with some kind of trust exercise. They'd even done trust falls to appease Crutchie. Everyone seemed to enjoy them, but as much as Jack had hoped Katherine would soften up, she hadn't. At least not to Jack. She'd continued to politely acknowledge David every day in English class, but he hadn't mentioned that to Jack in case it made him feel bad. The whole ordeal had made him curious, however.

"Hey, what'd you do to Katherine to make her dislike you so much?" he asked abruptly.

The two were sitting side to side at the foot of David's bed, with a notebook and their phones in hand. Jack scoot away a little at the question. "Don't ask me that."

"Okay," David replied. He waited for Jack to say something. Every time he said something stupid, either Jack or Crutchie would laugh it off and tell him it was fine, but this time Jack wasn't saying anything.

"Can I use your restroom?" Jack really didn't want to talk about Katherine.

"Yeah, out in the hallway, it’s first door on the left."

Jack got up quickly, without saying anything and headed out the bedroom. In the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't want David to hate him. If he told David the complete truth about what he'd done to Katherine, and why he'd done it, he was sure he would lose his new best friend. He washed his hands and went back out into the hallway, where he was met with a familiar face he hadn't expected.

"Jack?" she said.

"Sarah?"

She hadn't expected to see him either. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm having a sleepover with my friend, Davey. What are you doing here?" Had David forgotten to mention having a girlfriend?

"I live here. Davey... Davey ?" She looked like that was such a weird name to say. "Dav id is my twin brother."

"Oh, right!" Jack recalled he'd mentioned having a twin sister. He just never imagined it would have been Sarah. After all these weeks, he'd forgotten to ask. "He did mention that. So, you two are twins. That's pretty cool, not gonna lie."

"Yeah, it has its perks. We can read each other's minds and we constantly pretend to be each other," she joked. "How do you know David?"

"We met in art class. He liked my drawings, I liked him." He shrugged.

"You're not...tutoring him in art, are you?"

David came out into the hallway just as Sarah and Jack were laughing. He felt odd about it. Did they know each other? Were they flirting? "Hey..."

"Hey, Davey ..." Sarah said, teasing him about the nickname. "I didn't know you knew Jack. He and I have chemistry."

"You what?" Had he heard that right?

"We have chemistry class together," Jack clarified. "I was just telling her you and me have art together."

"You and I," David corrected, still a little confused. For some reason he felt like one-upping Sarah. "We're also in the LGBTQ+ Club. Jack's the president."

"Oh?" Sarah looked more intrigued. She and Jack made eye contact that David was a little too uncomfortable with.

"I keep telling her she should join," David said trying to get them to look away. "But she says she's too busy with the school paper."

"The school paper?" Now Jack seemed to be the one intrigued. David wanted to bite his own tongue off. "So you know Katherine?"

"Yeah, she's a...tough editor."

"You know, she's also in the LGBTQ+ Club," Jack replied, with a playful smile. "And she's the secretary." He walked over to David and put his arm around him. "But you know, if you're too busy, that's cool." He then winked at her, pat David on the back, and went in his room.

Sarah nodded and then walked to her room.

David had so much to ask both of them. He stood there for a second to clear his thoughts, and then turned to Jack. "I'll be back." He walked over to Sarah's room, walking in, and closing the door.

"Yeah?" she asked from her bed.

"Were you flirting with Jack?"

She hesitated. "Maybe. He is single, right?"

"Yeah, but...don't."

Her face hardened. "Why not?"

That was a good question. One that David didn't have an answer for. Was he jealous? Yeah, he was jealous. But in what sense? He wasn't ready to think about that just yet. "He's my friend. I don't want you flirting with him. I've never flirted with any of your friends."

"David, can you even flirt?"

"Doesn't matter. I've never tried to flirt with your friends. Mom and Dad and Les like him, and I can see him becoming a long term...best friend."

"He's my friend too, you know."

"Yeah, but if something happens between you two and then you break up, I'm the one who's going to feel awkward inviting him over."

Sarah sighed and after a few seconds said, "Fine. I won't flirt with Jack."

"Thanks." David stood there feeling awkward about even having that conversation. But Jack was his first true friend, so he felt justified. "So Katherine's in the school paper?" he said, trying to break the tension.

"Yeah, why?"

David shrugged. "I think she's cool. Maybe I'll join."

Sarah raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. "If I can't flirt with your friends, you can't flirt with mine."

"I wasn't even thinking about that, jeez." The twins smiled at each other and then David left. Back in his room, he sat back down next to Jack, again at the foot of his bed. "Hey, you weren't flirting with my sister, were you?"

Jack laughed, shaking his head. "I hope it wasn't coming off that way. No, Sarah's nice, but she's not the one I'm interested in."

David smiled, oblivious at what Jack was getting at. "You're still into Katherine, aren't you?"

"She's special, yeah." Jack didn't want to lie to David, but he couldn't tell if it was a leading question or not. He also remembered what he'd told Crutchie about trying to remain friends. He liked David, and he didn't want to ruin their friendship, but over the weeks, his crush had just grown. Every time he saw David's adorable smile, he just wanted to take him in his arms and kiss him. "But I just want her to be my friend again."

David still wasn't picking up what Jack was putting down. "So then...Crutchie?"

Jack laughed, more to himself than at David's suggestion. "Davey, let's talk about something else. Am I sleeping on the floor?"

David looked around the room and shook his head. "Nah, you're the guest. You take the bed. I'll take the floor."

"No way, it's your room. You take the bed."

"We can both take the floor, then."

"Or...we can both take the bed." Jack had said it as more of a joke than anything else, but David seemed to be taking it seriously.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do that then."

When the time came for them to go to bed, Jack took his side of the bed, and David took the other, laying the opposite direction Jack was. A few seconds later, David felt Jack moving and in the light coming from the window, saw that Jack had switched sides so they were both laying in the same direction.

"Sorry," Jack said. "I just think it's weird laying in different directions. Thought it was weird when Crutchie tried it at my place and I think it's weird now. I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine," David said. But he wasn't fine. He was unexpectedly nervous. At that moment he realized something. He had another boy in his bed. But not just any boy. A boy he liked. A boy he maybe more than liked. A boy he maybe had a crush on. No, a boy he definitely had a crush on.

Crutchie walked into The Bowery, once again surprised at how easily he was let in. The Bowery was the only gay bar in town, which he'd been introduced to by Specs. He put away his fake ID, which Specs had also provided, and then went over to the dance floor to look around. He sometimes like to dance, but only if he was there for fun. Tonight, he was there for pleasure.

He alternated between checking his phone and checking guys out, but he wasn't satisfied. He hobbled over to the bar and ordered a cosmo, when he turned and saw someone at the other side of the bar staring at him.

Jojo smiled as he saw Crutchie notice him. He took the two shots he had and walked over to sit next to him. "Come here often?" he said jokingly.

Crutchie did everything in his power not to reach for his crutch and hit Jojo with it. "What are you doing here?" he asked instead.

"Drinking." Jojo took a shot, offering the other one to Crutchie. He'd ran out of alcohol at home, which is why he'd gone out to get some. His parents hadn't been home in a week and he didn't want to risk going to the nearest liquor store to buy more. He also hadn't felt like seeing Race and Spot sober, which is why he'd bailed on their study group. So to the local gay bar it was. "You?"

Crutchie shook his head and replied, "Hunting for daddies." Jojo laughed, but then Crutchie held up his phone, showing the dating app he was on.

"Oh, good luck."

Crutchie could tell Jojo wasn't being sincere, but it didn't bother him. "Yeah, don't cockblock me."

"I'll try not to." Jojo took the other shot and then called the bartender over to get him more.

"To answer your earlier question, I do come here often. I like watching the Bowery Beauties perform."

"They're the drag queens, right?" Jojo only came for the drinks, if he had to be honest. "I thought you only came for the daddies."

"Them too, but only when I'm feeling blueballed." Or unwanted. The truth was that Jack had asked him to bail on the sleepover. Crutchie immediately disapproved, but Jack told him he couldn't help himself or his feelings for David. In the end, Crutchie let Jack have his way. Either David would reject him or they'd get together and it wouldn't end well. Just like every other one of Jack's relationships.

Jojo laughed. “I like you, Crutchie.”

“I know. But you’re not my type.”

Jojo hadn’t meant it in that way, but maybe he was too obvious. Because he did have feelings for Crutchie. “What is your type?”

Crutchie took a swig of his drink and answered, “Unavailable.”

“Yeah, mine too I guess.” Jojo downed his shot and then asked, “What about me is not your type?”

“For starters, you smile too much.”

“You smile too much too!”

“Yeah, but I’m disabled. If I don’t smile, people’ll stop liking me.”

“That’s not true. If anything, they’d understand your frustrations because you’re disabled.”

“No, people would feel sorry for me. They wouldn’t understand me. No one wants to be around a sad cripple.”

“You shouldn’t use that word.”

“No, you shouldn’t use that word. I can use it as much as I want.”

"Fair enough." He ordered another shot, as Crutchie continued.

"Second off, we're not compatible. Just 'cause you think we're sidekicks, doesn't mean we belong together."

"What do you mean, I think we're sidekicks?"

"I mean...if we were in a story, I'm the guy everyone feels sorry for and therefore can never get a date."

Jojo understood. "And I'm the funny-looking guy who's the best friend of the attractive, relatable dudes. I also never get a date."

"Exactly. So what, we're just doomed to end up with each other?"

"Not doomed. Why does it have to be a bad thing?"

"It's settling. And that's bullshit. I'm the main character of my life. Why can't I end up with the hot, hunky guy?"

"Why can't you, just as well, end up with the nice, unconventionally attractive boy-next-door type who's been there all along?"

"Because, Jojo, you haven't been there all along. You've just been there. You like me because I'm just as single and miserable as you. You're a square and I'm a rectangle. Just cause we both have four corners and four sides, doesn't mean we fit together."

"You're overthinking it."

"You're under thinking it. What do you and I have in common? We're both gay and lonely. But even the way we deal with that is different. You drown yourself in alcohol, and I drown myself in older men. Face it, Jo, we're both screwed up and two screw-ups don't make a right."

"Guess not." Jojo thought to his family. His parents were always fighting whenever they were together in the house. And individually they were just as bad. Jojo's mom mostly ignored him, but tried to make up for it by buying him whatever he wanted. His dad refused to acknowledge Jojo was gay, and was overbearing as a parent. He'd give Jojo bad advice and spent most of his time talking about himself and his accomplishments than letting Jojo talk about his own. Still, it was worse when the house was empty and he was alone. If he and Crutchie started dating, would he be any different from his parents, or would he have gotten all of their bad traits? "We'd make each other miserable, wouldn't we?"

"That's not to say you're not good company," Crutchie said, trying not to make Jojo feel too bad. "You're doing an okay job of cockblocking me by keeping me talking. Didn't even need an intervention."

Jojo looked down at his empty shot glass and replied. "You're doing a terrible job of keeping me from drinking."

"Eh, I never said I was good company." Jojo laughed just as Crutchie's phone buzzed. He looked at it and then put his hand on Jojo's leg. "Hey, this tonight, let's keep it between us, okay?" Jojo nodded. Crutchie got up, taking his crutch and leaving some cash on the bar. "I'll see you later, Jo. I'm gonna get me some daddy dick."

Jojo nodded again, and watched him walk away. He didn't know if the conversation they'd just had made him feel better or more miserable. He just knew that Crutchie had his vices, and he had his. He paid his tab and then left the bar. At least Crutchie's conversation had reminded him that he had friends to rely on. Maybe his parents weren't there. Maybe he didn't have a boyfriend. But at least he had his friends. At least he had Race and Spot.