#Joan’s just like: it’s fine if you go out but you better have enough energy to play with me when you come back

[morganbritton132]

It be so funny if they took Joan to soccer game and put her either in the team colour or a cheerleading outfit.

Great minds think alike because I was just thinking that we having checked in with Joan in a while so this problem is perfect.

Every Saturday for over a month now, Joan has watched the humans and Ozzy leave the house in the morning and come back hours later loud, smelly, and energized. She does not have a problem with this per se but if she had eyebrows, she’d raise one of them. She would raise the other when they’re all too tired to play with her for too long after they come back.

So, Joan makes a decision.

When the next Saturday rolls around and Steve is digging around in the drier for his jersey, she makes her case known. She whines. She meows. She gets in the way of every step. She commits a drive-by biting. She even gets in the storage closet in the hallway and knocks over the dreaded cat stroller so it falls into the hallway.

She makes it very clear. She wants to go.

Eddie coos at her, “Awe, baby, she feels left out. Let’s take her.”

“Ed, it’s hot outside,” Steve replies, gesturing to Joan. She rubs her head against his leg. “She’s gray.”

“Steve, don’t be racist.”

“I’m not being – how is that –“ Steve sputters and then rambles on about tiny bodies, and fur, and overheating in the sun, but Joan already knows she got her way. Steve can’t say no to Eddie and he can’t say no to her either. Plus, she always gets her way.

Her way is the right way.

Steve sighs and gives in, “But if she gets too hot, you have to take her home.”

As a reward for Steve and Eddie’s good decision-making, Joan helps them get ready to leave. She wiggles her way into the cabinet with the first-aid kit and pulls out bandaids. She leaves them inside Steve’s cleats. He says thank you when he finds them.

Ozzy huffs from where he’s laying in his dog bed.

Joan purrs when Steve pets her head.

Since Eddie disappeared down into his studio the moment Steve agreed to let her come, Joan continues ‘helping Steve.’ Mainly, she cleans up (eats) all the scraps of lunchmeat he drops when making sandwiches for him, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy.

Eddie immerges from the studio ten minutes before they’re supposed to leave with a hastily sewed shirt made for a cat. It’s made out of the soft material of the cheer squad t-shirts he made for the other team members’ partners. He presents it first to Steve and then holds it out to Joan like, “Ta-dah.”

Joan sniffs the fabric – it smells like Eddie – and Steve is just like, “Why did you make that?”

“Because Joan’s got to represent, Stevie. We’re a jock family now and jocks wear their team colors,” Eddie insists, grin getting bigger when Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Everybody else is wearing team colors. Even Ozzy. See.”

He gestures to the pin attached to his yellow service dog vest that says ‘#1 Steve Harrington Defender.’ It’s right next to a patch that says ‘If You Pet Me, You Are A Part Of The Problem’ which is… “That’s new.”

“Yeah, I’m solving all the world’s problems today, baby,” He grins. “Isn’t that right, Joan?”

She hisses at the shirt.

[mercurygray]

hello and congrats on 1000 followers! i just read through the darkening sky in about seven hours and i have to say that it’s the best fic i’ve ever read from any fandom at any time. it’s truly astounding work.

i have a few questions (and feel free not to answer them if you want to keep some things to yourself for the sake of later writing/surprises/etc.)

1) you’ve written joan x dick x nix on your ao3, but tds seems like it will be just joan x dick. are there any groupings or pairings in tds that you see developing into a polyship or polyamory?

2) in one of the chapters, a character (joan? marj maybe?) mentioned that there are girls who like girls and guys who like guys in easy company. besides annie sutton and connie (maybe? if i’m remembering correctly), do you mind expanding on who those people might be? maybe some of the guys?

again, feel no pressure to answer these questions. this is my first time writing in about a fic, but tds is truly one of the best things i’ve ever read and i cannot thank you enough for writing it!

Gosh, Nonnie, that's quite a compliment - thank you! I'm glad you liked the fic and am pleased to be so found.

Neither of these are spoilers, really, and they're both good questions! I'm putting part of the answer under a cut for brevity.

Simple answer - yes, it's really just Joan x Dick that's endgame. The thruple concept exists solely as an AU idea to the main fic and was something I started tossing around later in my writing process as a thought exercise - nothing more. I'm sure we could say something here about competing representation needs - that wasn't one I was setting out to solve when I started writing, so it's not in the main fic.

The thing that makes Lewis x Dick x Joan work as a thruple is that all of them have chemistry with each other - for some of the other pairs, one or more components don't quite have that energy with the other characters who are often paired together. Marj, for instance, gets along really well with Lip but wouldn't know what to do with Speirs; Maggie loves Lieb but vehemently hates Webster. And even if I were to make, say, Molly and Billie a thing, which I did contemplate, Molly and Speirs is another pairing that just doesn't quite compute and Billie and Tab works better as a friendship.

The ONE thruple that I don't think has ever really been mentioned outside of my group chat is Billie x Speirs x Grant, which actually does feel like it could go somewhere. (That is also courtesy of @basilone, who is responsible for Billie x Speirs as a thing that exists, and who has a lovely Speirs x Grant fic The Long Bright Dark.) Again - it's a thought experiment, not an endgame.

I do have one other polyamory thing that I write from time to time, and it's for The Pacific - it's Andy Haldane x Eddie Jones and an OFC named Marie Atcheson, whom you can read about in Knowing How to Pick 'Em on AO3.

2. It's Marj who makes a comment about how there are plans 'being made for getting laid' but never takes it much beyond that; there's also a drabble on my tumblr where June tells Chuck “Girls can like girls, Chuck…Wouldn’t surprise me if we’ve got a few guys who like guys in this unit, either. And that’s fine - long as they aren’t getting bitchy about who gets to fuck who. That’s why we’re keeping this low….So no one gets hurt.”

Beyond that, however, no mention has been made of men who like men in the main fic, and, to be honest, I haven't given it much thought. Again, something could be said about competing representation needs. I set out to write what I wanted to write and sort of side-lined a lot of other things.

I think, as of right this moment, if I had to add some of that in, and I think that's a fair ask, the first people that occur to me are Skip and Penk. Since Connie is friends with them, the adage that all the gay kids sit together could be said to be true, and it would make for some interesting stage business as they're trying to figure out what gets sent home.

[cynicalrainbows]

An incredibly late happy birthday fic for the very lovely and very talented @shut-up-heather-d, who has been patiently waiting for this for weeks. After you read this, you should also take yourself to AO3 to read her OWN writing too, because it’s really excellent.

But here’s some fluff in the meantime. The request was for Kitty being taken care of by Catalina and Jane, and Catalina being the stricter ‘parent’.

‘I’m dying-’

Kitty rolls dramatically onto her stomach and buries her face in the couch cushion, displacing Cathy (who falls off the couch with a squeak and retreats hastily to the kitchen for paper towels to mop up the spilled coffee from her shirt).

‘You’re not dying Kit.’

Kitty lifts up her flushed face and tries to muster up the energy to glare at Catalina.

‘I AM.’

Catalina raises an unimpressed eyebrow. ‘You’re not dying, you have cramps. And if you’d just take the aspirin-’

‘But it tastes HORRIBLE-’

‘So you keep saying.’

Kitty flops back down with another groan and Catalina carries on tidying up.

‘I hate today, I’m really stressed and I have to make that phone call to the bank, on top of everything-’

Catalina sighs. She isn’t really sure how to help and she doesn’t like it- it feels like Kitty’s blaming her for her not being able to fix it. Of course, she knows this isn’t Kitty’s fault at all, just her own stupid brain but still…

Even so, she’ll do the best she can, even if advice IS all she can do.

‘Well, maybe if you go and get it done rather than putting it off….and you know it’s going to hurt until you take some painkiller, so you’re only hurting yourself by putting that off too.’

There. Sensible and hopefully enough to spur Kitty into action.

Kitty though just gives her a slightly wounded look and rolls onto her side.

After a while, the silence stretches out a little too long. She returns to the couch.

‘Kit?’

‘Mmm?’

Kitty doesn’t move from where her head is buried in the cushions- Catalina gently tucks a few locks of hair back behind her ear to get a look at slightly more of Kitty’s face, and her fingers brush against dampness on the girl's cheek.

‘Mija, are you alright?’

‘’M fine.’ It’s more indistinct than it should be- Catalina frowns. She starts to feel the first gnawings of guilt in the pit of her stomach. 

‘Kitty?’

‘- I’m sorry.’

‘Oh Kit.’

Catalina pushes a few cushions aside and makes herself a space at the end of the sofa. The guilt grows, and she wonders if maybe advice hadn’t been what was needed after all.

‘You have nothing to apologise for. It’s ok.’

‘’M sorry. You don’t have to take care of me.’ It’s so small and wavery that Catalina immediately feels like the worst person in the world. It’s not her fault- she isn’t used to this, she’s used to dramatics needing to be curbed, she’s used to plain speaking and advice. That’s what she’s good at. Kitty half sits up as Catalina sits down, as if she’s going to retreat to her bedroom, and Catalina sighs. She’s fucked up.

‘Come here mija.’ Catalina tugs until Kitty reluctantly rests her head against Catalina’s leg, and begins to smooth her hair back from her warm forehead. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so snappish and unhelpful. I was trying to help and I think I just made it worse, didn’t I?’

‘It’s ok.’

‘I’m not actually cross with you, you know that don’t you?’

Kitty makes a small non-commital noise.

‘Don’t you?’

‘...I suppose.’

‘Good. Now what I can get to help you feel better, hm?’

Kitty’s face sinks into resignation. ‘I’ll take the aspirin. Is it still in the cabinet?’

It’s mildly painful to Catalina to actually witness this- how Kitty’s resistance, her own wants and needs, are ready to crumble in an instant if it means that she’ll be restored to favour (in the early days, she’d taken it for a pleasant compliance until Jane had set her straight.)

‘You don’t have to-’ Catalina stops herself; Kitty blinks at her warily, confusedly. She can see the question in Kitty’s eyes as to whether or not this is some sort of trick or trap. She doesn’t take it personally (mostly, usually)- she knows this wariness was bred into the girl a long, long time ago. ‘That is, I still think you should. But that wasn’t what I meant- I was just trying to think of an alternative.’

‘Oh.’

‘I could run you a bath? Or make you up a hot water bottle. The heat might help. Only if you want to though. You can stay here if you like.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I know. And you don’t have to either mija. But it might make you feel better.’

Kitty opens her mouth to give her usual polite refusal and then a cramp makes her tense- her eyes close for a moment and a nod is wrung out of her.

‘Ok. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

*

Catalina insists Kitty stay on the couch while she turns on the bath. (She intends to use some of her own special fancy bubble bath in it, as a sort of apology, but realises to her chagrin that she’s run out. She uses some of Anne’s instead and tells herself it still counts.)

While Kitty soaks Catalina decides to make the hot water bottle anyway. Save them having to do the same rigmarole over whether or not she goes to all the trouble of boiling the kettle or not.

If Kitty doesn’t want it, it can just go on the floor or something.

Jane comes home just as the kettles switch flips off. Her cheeks are red from the wind- or possibly just from the three supermarket bags she’s laden down with.

Catalina stares. 

‘Are you sure you got EVERYTHING?’

Jane nods, opening cupboards and pulling out draws as she stashes boxes and jars.

‘I think so- probably.’

‘Jane, you were picking up milk and bread.’

‘Oh!’ Jane catches the sarcasm too late, as she always does and colour rises in her cheeks as it always does. (She does not however either fly off the handle at Catalina for teasing her- as she used to, in the very early days- or shut down entirely and go silent and drawn in on herself- as she still does on very bad days, although they happily are getting rarer.) ‘Well I KNOW- but then I remembered it’s Cathy’s turn to cook tomorrow and she probably won’t have time to get to the supermarket before supper-’

‘You mean she’ll keep writing til the last minute and then panic like last time?’

Jane ignores her. ‘-SO I thought I’d get some staples just in case. And they had some of that pate Anna really likes on offer, and it seemed silly to not take advantage of THAT. And Anne finished the last of the cereal this morning so-’

‘We have at least three different kinds of cereal in the patry Jane.’

‘Yes but not the one that she really LIKES. And there were fresh muffins in the bread aisle, and sometimes it’s nice to have a bit of a treat for breakfast even if it ISN’T a weekend day, and THEN I thought that it would be a good idea to get stuff for making that shortbread that Joan really likes because she’s having a bit of a stressful week, poor thing-’

Catalina smiles despite herself and starts to help put things away.

‘I see…’

‘Don’t be jealous Catty, I got you some green tea.’

‘I do have green tea already.’

‘Yes but this is a special fancy looking NEW kind of green tea because I thought you might like a treat. Also a mango.’

‘Did you get anything for yourself?’

‘Yes.’ There’s only the slightest of hesitations and Catalina resists the urge to ask what: they both know it’ll just send Jane into a spiral of defensiveness as she tries to justify her spending money on herself to the insatiable long dead ghosts of the past.

‘Good. Well done.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And thank you for my treats- and for everything else. The others will be thrilled.’

‘I hope so. I got some stuff for Kitty and I to bake with too, there’s a recipe we saw on Bake Off that Anna liked the look of and Kit wanted to try it-’

‘I don’t think she’ll be quite up to that for the moment.’

‘Why? Why not?’ Jane looks suddenly urgently panicked and Catalina hastens to reassure her.

‘Nothing to worry about. Period pain, that’s all.’

‘Oh the poor little thing.’ Jane’s face creases into sympathy even as the anxiety leaves it. ‘Where is she?’

‘Taking a bath. I’m going to bring her a hot water bottle when she’s done. Actually-’ They hear the rush of water down the drain rattle the loose guttering. ‘I think that’s her now.’

‘Has she taken anything?’

‘She didn’t want the aspirin…’

Jane nods. ‘She doesn’t like the taste. I usually just end up bribing her. What did you do?’

‘....I- um- I told her to stop complaining.’

‘Catty!’

‘Sorry! I didn’t say it exactly like that.’

When she glances up at Jane, she’s supremely relieved to see that Jane looks more amused than vengeful.

‘What’s funny?’

‘Sorry. Nothing. Just…’ Jane bites back a smile. ‘You looked SO guilty when you admitted that. I don’t think you’re as cut out for the strict parent role as you think you are…’

Catalina can’t help but smile back. ‘Maybe not. I do want to make it clear I did apologise. And I WAS about to make her a hot chocolate to take up when you came in.’

Jane chuckles and hands over the bag of mini marshmallows. ‘Better get started then.’

*

Kitty’s struggling with her wet hair- cursing herself for her ill-thought out decision to lay back in the water and wondering whether to just leave it and lie down with it wet- when Jane taps on the door.

‘How are you feeling love?’

‘You’re back!’ For the first time since being struck down, Kitty feels actually, properly happy: she can’t quite explain it, but somehow, having Jane in the vicinity during a crisis just makes things better. Easier. 

It didn’t even mean things were fixed or solved- for that, all the queens agreed, you needed Catalina or Anne or Anna (or Cathy if the problem involved etymology or linguistics or the interpretation of scripture). Jane was not the person you had around to fix things, they all knew. 

But Jane was the person you’d position yourself close to once the solution to the problem had been identified and needed putting into place. 

(Her role in this respect- always fairly clear- had been absolutely cemented the day that Anna had come home to find Catalina miserably struggling through a phone call, her head in Jane’s lap while Jane did needlepoint and fed her white chocolate buttons. Catalina had been slightly flushed upon discovery but determinedly insouciant, and to their eternal credit, the others had refrained from commenting.)

Kitty struggles to her feet to pull Jane properly into the room. ‘I’m fine! How was your shopping trip?!’

‘It was alright. They had those special dark chocolate biscuits I was waiting for them to restock at LAST-’

(Jane isn’t quite sure why talking about things she’s brought for herself to Kitty doesn’t set off the same anxiety as it does when admitting to having done so to anyone else. It doesn’t, and that’s enough for her.)

Kitty knows better than to comment on the purchase, but she beams proudly at her all the same and Jane shoots a small, grateful smile back- which fades quickly when she notices how tense the girl is.

‘Are you sure you’re ok? Is it still hurting? Catalina said you were having a really hard time of it.’

Kitty blushes slightly. ‘Yeah. Did she tell you I was making a fuss?’

She looks so forlorn, Jane thinks it would almost be funny if it wasn’t so very sad. She makes her voice as gentle as possible. ‘Of course not, sweetheart.’ She wraps an arm around Kitty’s shoulders, guides her to sit on the edge of the bed and then picks up the abandoned comb. ‘She said that you were in pain and that she was concerned. That’s all.’

‘Oh.’ Kitty keeps her head down as Jane begins to patiently work through the tangles. ‘I WAS making a fuss though…’

‘Actually, she told me that she feels awful for not being more sympathetic at first.’

‘But she doesn’t need to! She ran me a bath and everything. And I shouldn’t be so whiney anyway.’

‘Love-’ Jane keeps combing, and Kitty unconsciously relaxes back into her touch, enjoying it. ‘Remember what we told you? You don’t need to feel bad about being taken care of sometimes. We all want to help. Especially if you’re not feeling good.’

‘But I’m an adult, I-’

‘Yes?’

‘I-’ Kitty bites her lip miserably. ‘I should be able to just...handle myself, you know?’

Jane shrugs. ‘Is that what you think the rest of us should do then?’

‘What?’

‘Like, I should just handle myself and stop bothering Anna or you when I need help doing a form? Or how Cathy should just get over it when she gets overwhelmed and keep going?’

‘No of course not-’

‘Or how Anne should just stop being late for things and finish jobs when she starts them?’

‘No! That would be horrible, that’s-’

Jane nods. ‘So why is it any different for you? Why wouldn’t we be just as eager to help you when we love you just as much? Hm?’

Kitty sighs in defeat, and then winces as the comb is tugged. ‘I know. I know that really. I suppose. It’s just….hard to know it properly sometimes.’

‘I know love.’ Jane leans down and kisses the top of her head, then begins to plait her hair back. ‘We’ll remind you though. As much as you need.’

Kitty opens her mouth to reply but she’s interrupted by another tap on the door- Catalina, bearing a tray and looking slightly awkward.

‘I thought you might like a hot drink-’ As she puts the tray down on the nightstand, Kitty sees that it bears one fuzzy hot water bottle, one plate of shortbread, two mugs of tea- and possibly the most decadent hot chocolate she has ever seen in her life.

She’d been about to apologise again- she still can’t quite shake the anxiety that Catalina might maybe still be annoyed at her despite her reassurances- but the elaborateness of the drink surprises a laugh out of her instead.

‘Catty! It looks-’

Jane’s laughing too. ‘That’s….oh my goodness!’

Catalina tries and fails to frown. ‘Hey! I worked very hard on this. It is NOT easy to get that many marshmallows into one mug-’

‘You look like you managed though-’

‘Just about-’ She glances at Kitty, slightly anxiously. ‘Is it ok? Do you like it?’

‘I love it!’ Kitty bounces off the bed to hug Catalina in gratitude and then winces. ‘Argh. Bad idea. Sorry.’

‘It’s ok-’ Catalina hands her the hot water bottle and Kitty presses it thankfully to her stomach. ‘Why don’t you get comfortable? It might feel better if you lie down.’

Jane starts to arrange pillows as Kitty settles onto the bed. ‘Jane, I’m not an invalid you know, I honestly can do it myself-’

‘I know love.’ She doesn’t stop. ‘But you’re sick so-’

‘I’m not sick.’

‘Being in pain is a kind of sick.’ Catalina chips in. ‘Just indulge us mija. Now, do you want some peace and quiet so you can rest? Or do you want company?’

Kitty hesitates. ‘It’s ok love, whichever you prefer. We won’t take it personally if you’d rather have some space-’

Kitty nods; Jane and Catalina wait a moment and then pick up their tea and start for the door. As Jane opens it, they’re stopped by a squeak from the bed.

‘Kit?’

‘Do- do you mind staying? If you’re not too busy?’ She squeezes the hot water bottle case anxiously. ‘Just, it really hurts and it’s nice to have a distraction and-’ Despite their reassurance, Kitty still half expects to catch an eye roll or a reluctant sigh. Of course they don’t want to stay really, of course they’re busy…

But instead, Jane smiles as she closes the door; Catalina squeezes her hand as she settles onto the bed.

‘Well done mija. I know that wasn’t easy.’

It’s a silly thing to need validation for but it makes the anxious bands that have seized around Kitty’s chest loosen anyway.

They get comfortable on the bed either side of her and Jane reaches for Kitty’s laptop.

‘How about some trash tv? That usually makes me feel better.’

Kitty settles back, letting her head rest against Catalina’s shoulder. It feels warm and comfortable, a good place to rest. ‘Sure. Not Love Island though, I feel too gross to enjoy watching people in bikinis.’

‘Fine.’ Jane pouts slightly and Catalina chuckles. ‘Bake Off?’

‘Ok.’

They watch in silence for a few minutes, as the sprightly music plays and mouth watering images of sponges and tarts fill the screen. Catalina hands Kitty her hot chocolate and it’s very bit as good as it looks; Jane’s arm around her is pleasantly soothing.

‘Catty?’

‘Hm?’

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome mija.’

(Kitty doesn’t just mean for the hot chocolate. But she thinks Catalina probably knows this.)

[shesclearlya3]

i loved you first. p.3

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,843

warnings: au! in present time, language, angst, light fluff

*title inspired by joan’s song*

part 1 part 2

3.

The rest of your friends had followed you home. You were somewhat grateful, unsure if you could handle being alone right now. The look on Xavier’s face when he slammed the door on you refused to leave your mind.

Chet was very pissed off. Montana was equally as angry, but she had more time to ruminate on the situation, which would make sense as to why she was quiet.

“He’s such a fucking dick!” Chet spat, pacing the length of your living room. “And that’s coming from me.”

“I’m sure he’s chewing the bitch out now,” Montana said, drinking from the beer she stole from your fridge. “If not, I’m going to kill them both.”

Ray and Brooke were both quiet, sitting next to each other, holding hands. You felt a pang of envy watching them. 

Chet glanced at you, but you looked down at the pillow on your lap, seeing a feather sticking out. You pulled it, rolling it between your fingers. “I might have to join you guys,” you said lamely.

“y/n, you’ve already suffered enough, she’ll get her comeuppance,” Montana said, smiling at you. 

Chet chewed on his lip, standing next to your television, which was still off. The room was too quiet for you. You reached over, turning it on and seeing it was left on the news. You kept the volume low, trying to focus on the weather for the next week.

“Could we report her to the police?” Ray asked, looking between Chet and Montana. “For theft?”

You shook your head, “I highly doubt that. She stole my journal, they’d probably laugh at me the moment I told them.”

“What about making a key?” Chet offered, looking pleased with himself. “Assuming that’s what she did.”

“It could be considered breaking and entering, but it probably won’t hold up in court. She’s dating Xavier. That’s already a problem.” Montana said, and you nodded in agreement. 

“This is all bullshit!” Chet said, before plopping on the floor. 

“Calm down, man,” Ray said, his arm around Brooke now. “I’m sure Xavier already dumped her ass.”

“That’s not enough,” Chet said, reaching underneath him to pull out the notepad from earlier. The energy in the room shifted; you didn’t realize he kept it. “This has to be.”

“What else is in there?” you asked, alarmed as Brooke brushed off Ray and crawled on the floor towards Chet, who was reluctant to give it to her. Brooke read a few pages, her mouth falling open with quiet gasps as she shut it, her eyes wide in disbelief. 

“What!?” you asked again, standing up and approaching them. Montana and Ray were simultaneously trying to grab it from Brooke, who remained speechless.

“You can’t read it, y/n,” replied Chet, his eyebrows furrowing as you tried to take it as well. “She’s a horrible person who belongs in jail.”

“If it’s about me, I deserve to know!” you hissed, finally able to grab it from Brooke, who yelped when Montana accidentally stepped on her bare leg. You quickly flipped it open, skipping the first page, which you already saw earlier. The notepad was small but completely full of writings.

I tried to get it out of Xavier today if he has any history with y/n. I don’t know if he is dense, but he really didn’t say much other than they’re “good friends.” I think it’s a bunch of bullshit. y/n is clearly in love with him. Every time she looks at him, she gets this god awful dreamy look in her eyes. 

You flipped the page, once again finding another passage about you and Xavier.

I was forced to spend time with y/n today. God, I don’t know what else I could do to get him away from her. She’s so desperate, so fucking pathetic. I can’t really blame her though, if I had to see Xavier dating another woman, I’d have to kill the bitch and make it look like an accident.

 Another page:

We’ve been dating over a year already! I finally got him convinced to move in with me. He deserves it, he’s been working so hard lately. :(

I’d tell y/n myself to see if she’d cry or beg him to stay. Seems like the kind of thing she would do. But he didn’t seem as excited as me. :( 

You skipped through a few pages just bearing your name crossed out, and the others just watched in silence as you sunk onto the couch, feeling your heart beating wildly out of your chest when they got more aggressive.

Xavier was really sad today. He barely touched me. I tried to initiate sex, but he said he wasn’t in the mood. This isn’t him. He must be boning y/n. This is the second time this week!! We move in together in a month. When we do, y/n isn’t going to step foot in our fucking place. I’ll see to it myself.

I saw my ex-boyfriend Christopher at the store today-

“Who in the?...”

You let out a scream when the front door swung open, hitting the wall. Montana and Ray both yelled in fright, seeing an angry Xavier slam the door shut, kicking off his shoes. Chet stood up, glaring at his friend as you shut the notepad, feeling your adrenaline running on high.

“Well?” Chet asked, crossing his muscular arms.

Xavier looked at all of you but refused to meet your eyes. You stared at him, willing him to look at you, your hands trembling. 

“I need a minute.” was all Xavier said before breezing past the group and into the bathroom. After a few minutes, you could hear the shower turning on.

“What a fucking imbecile-” Chet began.

“He does that when he’s upset,” you countered, ignoring the pleased look Montana and Brooke gave you. “Give him a break, Chet. He didn’t know.”

Chet nodded begrudgingly, sinking back down in his original spot. 

Xavier was in the shower forever, and the others were growing tired as the time slowly ticked towards one in the morning. The news turned into reruns of a sitcom you couldn’t get into, and you ended up turning off the television. 

“You guys should go,” you said, looking at them from your spot on the couch. Brooke was passed out against Ray, who was barely keeping his eyes open. Chet was lying on his back, staring at nothing. Montana was on her phone, but you could tell she was exhausted. You were too.

“We don’t want to leave you,” Montana said, frowning at you.

You smiled a bit, hearing the shower turning off. “I think it will be easier on Xavier if it’s just the two of us.”

After some convincing, your friends each hugged you goodbye, before shuffling out the door. Something told you Montana wouldn’t be going too far, as she winked at you before she left. You knew she’d be waiting in her car for you to give her word everything was fine. Or that it wasn’t.

You cleaned up the pillows, your heart beating faster, hearing Xavier move around in the bathroom. You stared at the notepad sitting on the coffee table, before grabbing your journal and taking it into your room. You lay on your bed, flipping through the pages to your last entry, which was earlier in the year.

“I wish I could get over him. I’m tired of feeling this way. It’s exhausting, being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. It’s not fair. All of that time, I could have told him how I felt. I didn’t do it, and this is what I get. Chloe is beautiful, and he is head over heels for her. She got what I was too scared to go after. I some times think of what could be if I just spilled everything out to him. Even if Xavier didn’t or never reciprocates my feelings, him knowing is better than me keeping it all bottled up inside. But what if he also felt the same way? What if he was also scared of telling me? I could have started the conversation! I feel like it’s all my fucking fault. I love Xavier, but I don’t know how much longer I can take of this. If they get married, I don’t think I’d be able to watch it and survive.” 

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you heard soft footsteps approaching you. You slammed the cover shut, looking up to see Xavier frowning at you. His eyes were red, and you had the urge to joke about getting soap in his eyes. 

“Why are you crying?” Xavier asked, sitting beside you. 

“Uh, nothing,” you shook your head, putting your journal back. You wiped at your eyes, faking a laugh. “I just read something stupid, is all.”

There was no way in hell Xavier believed you, but you didn’t bother to continue with the lie. You felt like you needed to apologize to him. The others weren’t supposed to witness anything. You understood why Chet was so angry, but Xavier was just as clueless as you had been. If it weren’t for Montana, who knows what the next few months would look like. 

“I uh, I wanted to apologize for what happened,” you said, looking back at your lap. “I didn’t mean for that to happen in front of everyone...” you whispered.

“I don’t want you apologizing for anything, y/n,” Xavier scolded you, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes met his, and you almost melted. “I would have preferred it to be a little more private, but... That’s how life works.”

You nodded, gently pushing his hand off your chin. He dropped it, still maintaining eye contact with you. “I just want you to know that if I had known who she was, I would have never brought her around you. I never would have dated her.” 

You frowned, wondering what he knew. “What happened after we left?”

Xavier looked uncomfortable now, clearing his throat and rubbing his hands on his sweatpants. You noticed he was shirtless, and you looked away, wondering if you should turn the air conditioning down.

“Well, I knew it was your diary, and I knew you wouldn’t make anything like this up, so...” he sighed deeply. “I knew if I wanted to get the truth out of her, I needed to play down to her level. I convinced her if she just told me the truth, I wouldn’t break up with her. It took a while, but she finally cracked.”

“Chloe told me she had been arrested for stalking and harassment a few years before we met. She didn’t say much about her boyfriend, but I don’t think I really want to know,” he winced. “I grilled her about what she was up to, and she said that she felt threatened by you. I always thought there was jealousy, you know?” Xavier frowned at you, “You’re my best friend. I told her about you before we even started dating. I tried to convince her that there was nothing between us, but...”

You nodded, feeling like your heart was just crushed. You held back your tears, wanting him to continue on and get it all out. This was your worst fear, right after thinking about him spending the rest of his life with someone else. He only saw you as a friend. 

“I would have been a liar too,” he said slowly, his cheeks slowly turning red. 

You perked your head up, wondering if he meant what you thought he was saying. “What are you saying?”

Xavier felt like he was going to throw up. He watched you, gauging your reaction. Your eyes were brighter, but he could see the hurt and hesitation in them. This was the moment that could change his life for the better or, the worse.

“y/n, I just want you to promise that what I’m about to say, it won’t ruin what we have?” he said carefully, his stomach now full of butterflies. You nodded.

“I started dating Chloe because I thought it was the right thing for me. I liked you for a long time. I started having feelings for you in high school. But I was too scared to ruin what we had. I tried to flirt with you a bit, to see if maybe you felt the same way. But I thought you weren’t interested because you would never really acknowledge it, so I gave up. I’m such a fucking idiot, but I thought my time ran out, and I thought that this would help me get over you. But it didn’t.”

Your mouth was hanging open as Xavier finished, gawking at you while his words processed in your head. The nerves you had felt this entire evening were easing away, and you felt your head become lighter at his admittance to how he felt about you. 

Xavier Plympton, liking me? Like that?

This had to be a sick joke. This wasn’t a movie, this was real fucking life. 

“This makes me sound like a fucking asshole, but I hoped that if you had feelings for me after I got with her, you’d... I don’t know, admit that you liked me too? I’m such a dick!” he spat, his blue eyes alight with frustration. “I started dating another girl, a fucking psychopath, just to get over you. I used her. I...”

You placed a hand on his arm, and Xavier immediately stopped, giving you a puzzled look. “Xavier, stop talking.” He nodded, watching you.

“I wanted you to come sweep me off my feet like those 80s rom-coms you force me to watch once a month,” you said, cracking a smile. Xavier grinned at you. “I’ve loved you for a long time...” you nodded. “I wanted to tell you the first night I met her, but it was selfish. So I didn’t. I wanted you to be happy.”

“It is selfish,” he laughed a little. “But I would stop the world if it met I could call you mine, y/n,” 

Hearing his voice say your name sent chills down your spine. You almost forgot about the real problem Chloe was when he ran a hand along your cheek, his fingertips tracing the length of your cheekbone. 

“Do you love her?” you asked softly.

Xavier shook his head, “No. I know this because what I feel for you is so much stronger.”

You always imagined yourself jumping up and down in excitement when the truth finally came out, possibly even passing out in your dramatics. But this was more heartfelt than you ever imagined. Plus, Xavier wasn’t fresh out of a relationship in your imagination. 

“I loved you first,” you responded.

Xavier nodded, and you had the urge to kiss him. You wanted too. But this was all too fresh, and you didn’t want to push Xavier into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. Now that the truth came out, that was all the reassurance you needed at the moment.

“Do you think she’ll be a problem?” you asked, nudging him when he stared at his feet. “Like a threat?”

“She was crying when I left, but... I don’t really know, y/n,” he said, before looking you in the eyes. “She won’t lay a finger on you. I’ll see to that myself.”

-

You had fallen asleep on the couch with your head snuggled into Xavier’s back. You had slept through the night. The sun was shining brightly through the windows, and you pulled the blanket up to cover your face as Xavier snored quietly next to you. 

There was something off when you woke up, wiggling your way off the couch. Xavier slowly moved into your spot, his head rolling to the side as his snores slowly subsided. You rubbed your head as you glanced around the apartment, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. 

You decided to shower, planning on cleaning up the house before you returned to work the next day. Xavier would probably be asleep for a while longer, and he’d be well-rested enough to help you. Despite feeling unsure, there was a new warmth in your chest, which bubbled up until you were smiling. 

Xavier Plympton liked you.

You admitted that you loved him. You understood that his life changed in a second. Xavier was leaving a relationship that you had so selfishly wanted to end. You didn’t feel too bad about it now, given the circumstances of who Chloe Smith was. This was a different kind of waiting; it was less painful because you knew it was only a matter of time until Xavier would finally be able to say he was in love with you. You could live with that.

After your shower, you changed into comfy clothes. You weren’t surprised to see Xavier sitting up on the couch, awake. But the look on his face stopped you. It was panicked.

You took a final step closer, seeing an angry and rumpled Chloe, standing in front of him with a gun.

taglist: some tags aren’t working, hope I didn’t miss anyone!

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[yourneighborhooddisaster]

kings of unconventional (part three) ROMAN

Again! Late as fuck! I’m sorry, I had no motivation for what felt like forever. Hey, listen to Experience by Ludovico Einaudi while you’re writing btw. Also the thing abt me getting an AO3 account? The stupid blocker on my computer that I can’t figure out how to turn off deemed the website unworthy, and frankly I don’t have the energy.

Warnings: Kissing I suppose? I consider it a blessing but whatever. It’s kind of just a fluffy meet cute.

Tagging: @emiisanxious @genderfluidmoma @my-life-is-an-artistic-mess @penguins-penguins @jinxedrose101 Imma cross my fingers and hope I tagged everyone.

Still short, but it’s a tiny bit longer this time! Yay! Fic under the cut.

ROMAN inhaled the familiar scent of orange aerosol as he checked into the bookshop as a volunteer. Though he wasn’t a big reader, he came in on Thursdays to help supervise the meetings of Inqueery, a new book club that was quickly gaining speed due to its focus on LGBT+ content from all different types of genres. It was designed to help curious or queer youth label themselves if they preferred and to introduce people to media put out by the LGBT+ community.

Roman knew he was polyamorous and gay already, and he was very comfortable with his sexuality. Although, it helped a bit when your destiny was written across your arm. Many people came into these meetings simply to meet people and make sense of their soulmark. It was especially hard for kids with gender neutral names like ‘Alex’ or ‘Riley.’ But since it was technically still a book club, Roman came here to help guide the curious and confused so readers could discuss their books in peace. Mr. Sanders used to do it, but as he got older, he split his time between resting and keeping his business afloat.

He got a head start on changing the displays as he waited for Joan, an official hire. What Roman liked about Mr. Sanders’s Books is that every other day, the displays rotated, so lesser known authors and books got their chance in the spotlight. Even if it was some extra work. He had just finished with all of the display shelves when someone tapped him on the arm, prompting him to turn around.

“Well hello there, cutie.” In front of him, a curly haired young man with square glasses smiled brightly. He proudly sported a rainbow pin, a he/him pin, and a poly pride pin, all attached to his gray cardigan that fell loosely around his shoulders. He beamed at the compliment. (And blushed a little. Roman considered that a win.)

“Hi! I was wondering if you knew where the sign up sheet for Inqueery was? I can’t seem to find it. I’m new in town, so I was hoping I could make friends.” Well wasn’t he precious. Roman felt his heart melting into a puddle of goo.

“Of course! It’s actually behind the counter, which is why you couldn’t find it. There’s a bit of a waiting list simply due to funding. Unless you can buy your own book, in which case you can join as soon as they start a new one.” Roman grabbed the clipboard and a blue marker from under the counter. “Here you go sir! Oh, hey Joan! I finished the displays, so I’ll be out of your hair in a bit.” Their fond smile made Roman grin as they passed him to go to the back. “So yeah, just sign right here.”

“Thanks! I can buy my own book, which means that I check off this box here, right?” Roman nodded and watched as Patton signed his-

Patton.

“I’m Roman and I really want to kiss you right now,” he blurted like an absolute idiot. But Patton looked up, nearly in awe. They pulled their sleeves up simultaneously, and true enough, Patton’s name was in simple blue half cursive, nearly identical to his signature on the sign up sheet. Roman’s name was in big red letters on Patton’s arm, fancy swirls underlining it. But directly underneath, ‘Logan’ was written in scribbly dark blue handwriting, just barely decipherable. Both ‘Virgil’ and ‘Janus’ were still in neat black print. “You met him? What’s he like?” Patton giggled.

“He kind of ran away from me in a moment of gay panic. But he complimented me first, and he seemed really sweet.” Roman’s face must have fallen slightly because Patton leaned over the counter and booped his nose, making him snort with laughter. “We’ll find him again, don’t you worry. We’re meant to be together.” Roman leaned over the counter as well, getting much farther forward than Patton had.

“It’s destiny.” Patton’s eyes widened and his face reddened, but he captured Roman’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss. They both closed their eyes and melted, Roman bringing his hand up to caress Patton’s cheek. No fireworks went off, but it was like burying your face in a ton of cotton candy at the fair - sugary and exhilarating. His mind traveled to the fair as they deepened the kiss. God, that’d be a beautiful date. He imagined the food, the ferris wheel, the bumper cars - but the loud crash that sounded wasn’t in his head. Roman broke away from the kiss and saw an absolutely mortified young man desperately picking up way too many books for one person to carry.

“Oh, are you okay?” Roman had officially decided Patton was perfect as he rushed to the young man’s side. Roman quickly followed, putting stacks of books on the counter. He offered out his hand, and the guy shakily accepted it.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just a little shaken-” His eyes dropped to Roman’s arm and his jaw went slack. Roman and Patton followed his gaze. In purple, relatively neat print. Virgil. “Up.” Virgil scrambled to his feet. “So you’re...“ He pulled up his sleeve. “Roman and Patton?”

“Two of your soulmates at your service. Roman Regio. Lovely… lovely to meet you, Virgil.” The words almost died in his throat as his breath was taken away by the man. Virgil was tall. And Roman was taller than average, but wow. Oh god that was hot. Why was that hot? He inhaled sharply. Man, he really wanted to kiss him right now.

“I have such handsome soulmates!” Patton exclaimed. Roman felt his face warm, but Virgil went full on red. “I know we just met, but I feel so close to you two already. We should get ice cream! And then we can learn all about each other and we can-”

“Slow down sweetheart, I think we’re overwhelming our poor Virgil.” Virgil seemed as if he was gonna fall over again, though he had his hand on the wall to steady himself. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… I’m great. I’m so, so… great.” Virgil glanced between them and smiled like he was close to shouting that this was the best day of his life. It certainly was the best of Roman’s. “I- uh, wow.” Roman looked over at Patton, who, even though he had known him for all of five minutes, looked at him like he could read his mind. Patton nodded excitedly, so Roman stepped slightly closer.

“May I kiss you?” Virgil stumbled then, and Roman’s arm shot out to steady him, and as Virgil looked over at Patton, who was still smiling, (thank goodness Roman hadn’t misinterpreted his expression) Roman stood on his toes and gripped Virgil’s patchy jacket. Virgil glanced back with longing in his eyes. “May-”

“Oh God yes.” Roman didn’t need to hear another thing. He yanked Virgil down and there. There were the fucking fireworks. Kissing him wasn’t better or worse than kissing Patton, it was just different. So different. He was nearly unable to stop himself from shoving his tongue in Virgil’s mouth right away, but Virgil opened his mouth hungrily for him anyway. This was an explosion, all the blood rushing in his head told him that. But they didn’t need an explosion quite yet. Ice cream sounded nice. So Roman pulled away, smiling as Virgil tried to follow him with his lips. “I-” Roman stepped back, and Virgil flushed hotly in embarrassment, but he then nodded to Patton, who beamed.

“May I?” Virgil nodded, looking dumbfounded and completely overwhelmed, but in a good way. Patton giggled as he got closer, his hands slipping up to clasp around Virgil’s neck. Roman sighed as their lips connected, knowing that Patton was leading the chaste, soft kiss and knowing exactly how it felt. He grinned and nearly laughed as the tips of Virgil’s ears went red, but when they separated, his grin only widened at the smile on Virgil’s face. Patton’s kisses were so sweet, they were enough to distract Virgil from anything else.

“So my darlings, I think that ice cream sounds great. How about you?”

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Janus Anker: identity

To be a teenager is to learn more about yourself. But does it have to be all at once?

Please leave a comment on this one? I usually don't ask but I would really like feedback on this one.

Masterpost

Summer before freshmen year, Janus was a wreck.

He always kind of hated the way he looked. But lately there were days where he didn’t even like to look at the normal half of his body. When nothing in his closet felt comfortable. The first day of summer, he went over to the neighbor’s house to hang out with Virgil. He was having a bad day and needed his friend. “Janus. Good to see you my boy,” Virgil’s dad greeted as he opened the door. Janus forced a smile. “Hi uncle Lo. Is Virgil up yet?” he asked. “He’s in his room. You know the way,” uncle Logan told him kindly. Janus nodded and rushed up the stairs. He opened the door to Virgil’s bedroom and froze. Virgil was standing in front of his mirror a pen in his hand and his hoodie and t-shirt on the bed. He looked up and smiled at him. Why was his hair purple? And since when did he do his eyeshadow so immaculate? Did he paint his nails purple too? Was that lipstick? And why was there an intricate pattern running up his arm, over his shoulder and fading out at his chest? “What do you think? Looks pretty sick right?” he asked as he showed off his work. Janus wasn’t sure which part of Virgil’s drastically changed appearance he meant. But it looked very… very… God he could not be having a gay panic right now. Not with Virgil. He’d never had a crush before! He never cared for any of the girls in class. Not in the way Virgil sometimes expressed interest in them. Like Anna from their class. Virgil had had a small crush on her at the start of last year. Out of curiosity Janus had asked what it was like. To see if maybe he was crushing on someone without realizing it. Sadly Virgil’s explanation hadn’t brought an epiphany. Which made this even more confusing. If he was simply gay and crushing on Virgil this whole time, then he should have realized it then right? He’d known him all his life! He didn’t feel like this last week though. He forced himself to drop that train of thought. He wasn’t here for any of this. “Yeah. Looks good. Though I doubt uncle Lo will let you actually get a tattoo. Ever,” he said, trying to play it cool. Virgil chuckled and nodded as he tossed the pen on his desk and put on his shirt and hoodie. The latter was new. Black with purple patches. It looked hand made. In a good way. Janus couldn’t focus on it though. He was still reeling from the unexpected rush of feelings that had just been dumped on him.

Maybe it was just because Virgil had looked so different? Some sort of shock? That must be it. Right? Anyway it was mostly over now and he was back to feeling wrong in his own skin. “I know, but I wanted to try it out anyway. I’ll wash it off later. After I take a picture.” Virgil then studied Janus’ face. “One of those days?” he guessed. Janus nodded. He’d never been able to express to Virgil how it felt exactly. But his friend managed to make him feel better anyway. He’d help him relax by messing around with his hair or helping him pick something nice to wear. Or some general self-care stuff. “I’ve got just the thing. Sit down I’ll be right back.” Janus proceeded to throw himself face first on Virgil’s bed, doing his best not to think back to the fake tattoo he had drawn. Or not the part where it made him feel things anyway. Virgil was good at art. Good enough to make others envious, or make people try and get something from him. Janus felt his stomach twist in knots at the mere thought of it. Virgil was too kind to deny anyone if they’d ask. It would be very hard to keep him safe in high school though, when they weren’t guaranteed to be together for every class. Janus had been thinking a lot about ways he could protect them from bullies and fake friends. The best he could come up with was seem scarier and stick together. The coward was going to scare off the bullies. Janus was very aware of how ridiculous that sounded. He was going to try though. And then there was still the matter of Roman Castile. That pompous brat never stopped trying to get Virgil to trust him and steal him away. Janus still couldn’t figure out why he went through so much effort. Was it because he didn’t get told ‘no’ often? Was Virgil a challenge? Roman couldn’t possibly really know or appreciate the kind of person Virgil was. So what was the plan? “Get up. I can’t work my magic if you hide away like that,” Virgil instructed as he entered the room once again dropping something on the bed. Janus sighed and sat up. “Give me your hand. We’re doing make overs,” Virgil instructed as he got on the bed with him. Janus was about to protest, but Virgil had that look. There was no arguing. “Fine,” he sighed. Virgil took his hand and started doing his nails with a golden polish. “I bought this one for detailing,” he explained. Janus looked at Virgil’s hand and saw there were little stars in the purple polish. He couldn’t help a smile. It looked pretty. Virgil had started using make up the last few months. Just some dark smudges under his eyes and black polish on his nails to look extra edgy. Maybe the new look held the same intention? A high school upgrade? With a little detail to hint at a softer nature for those who looked close. “You’re in the mood for makeovers today,” he observed. Virgil chuckled. “I suppose,” he nodded as he blew over Janus’ nails, finishing of his right hand. “Next,” he instructed. Janus gave him his left hand, holding his right up so nothing could mess up the still wet paint. “What’s with all the shades of purple anyway?” he asked. “Just felt right,” Virgil muttered casually as he finished off Janus’ other hand. “There,” he stated satisfied as he let go. Janus shook both hands for a bit trying to get them dry. “We’ll find the look that feels right for you too. Just you wait,” Virgil assured him as he dug through the bag Janus had heard him put down earlier. “What are you planning?” he asked. “Relax, I’m not going to make you go home with a face full of make-up. We’re just trying something different okay?” Virgil assured him. Janus let out a sigh and nodded. He trusted him. “I wouldn’t go for a dark lipstick for you. It looks cool but it’s… Not something even I would want for an everyday look. And the goal is making you feel good not shock you,” he joked. Janus’ eyes fell to Virgil’s lips as he mentioned lipstick. The dark color made every movement stand out even more. They looked very kissable. And that brought Janus mind to a screeching halt. The image of kissing his best friend made him feel all sorts of ways. But not quite the way Virgil once described. He felt nervous and excited, and flustered. But not… Not love. He didn’t think of sweet nothings and dates and holding hands. Or he did, because part of him wanted to run those down to figure out if this was a crush. But none of that fit how he felt about Virgil. The thought of it was just weird to him. Virgil was movie nights and stupid jokes and teasing. But also kissing. Apparently. Suddenly he was yanked out of his thoughts by Virgil carefully taking hold of his face. For a second he thought Virgil’s mind had gone to the same place his had. But when his eyes shot up to V’s they were just amused. “Relax. And stop biting your lip. I haven’t even done anything and you’re already trying to ruin my masterpiece.” “Sorry,” Janus muttered. Relieved that Virgil had no clue what just happened. What was wrong with him? “It’s fine,” Virgil assured him as he started applying whatever color he’d decided on to Janus’ lips. It did not help with his crisis. And it was just a stellar crisis to have when the object of your attraction was literally holding your face and had his lips a breath away from yours. “There. Now, I’m going to need you to trust me for a sec here,” Virgil warned ominously. Clearly having fun. Janus couldn’t help a chuckle. Now that Virgil wasn’t so close anymore the attraction subsided to a not all consuming level and he could kind of enjoy the fact that Virgil was trying to make him feel like a movie star or whatever he was going for here. “Do I have a choice in the matter?” he asked dryly. Virgil chuckled. Janus thought back to how Virgil had said that Anna’s laugh made his heart skip, back when he liked her. But while the sound made Janus feel comfortable and happy, his heart did nothing special. He was just happy and relaxed because the sound was familiar and safe. “You have a point,” Virgil agreed. “Close your eyes for me.” Janus did as he was told. Virgil’s hand was on his face once more and he could feel his breath drift over him. The fact that he couldn’t see a thing as a brush drifted over his eyelids only intensified the new feelings. “Did you know the principle of our high school is childhood friends with uncle Thomas?” ‘Uncle’ Thomas was an old school friend of Uncle Logan. Janus had met him a few times over the years. He was a nice guy. If a bit high energy. “Really?” he asked a little surprised. “Yeah. Joan Stokes. They use they/them pronouns. According to uncle Thomas.” Janus couldn’t help the confused frown. “What do you mean?” he asked. “They’re non binary. They don’t identify as a man or a woman. Like they were born in a male body, but their gender is not male or female.” “People can do that?” Janus asked. “Just decide they aren’t what they are?” “That’s not it. Uncle Thomas says that Mx. Stokes… Mx. Is the neutral version of Mr. or Mrs. by the way… Anyway he said that they are their authentic selves. They were always non binary. They just didn’t know it until they were in their teens or something. I looked it up. There are people who are born in a male body but discover they are female later in life. Like. It’s proven that their brains even work more like that of a female. And the other way around can happen too. So why wouldn’t there be people who are in between?” Janus tried to wrap his head around it. Being a man but not being a man… or a woman. “So is… are they…? Did I say that right?” It felt kind of weird. He’d never heard of this until now. “That was exactly right.” Janus could swear he heard some pride in Virgil’s voice. “Okay, so are they both or neither?” he asked. Virgil’s hand stilled. “You know… I didn’t ask. Hm… I suppose… Maybe it depends on your perspective?” he mused as he continued working. “Look up for a bit please,” Virgil muttered. Janus opened his eyes and felt Virgil start applying some eye liner. “I don’t have mascara, so I’m almost done,” he told him. Janus felt relieved. He was enjoying this, truly. And he was curious to find out how he looked. But he also needed some distance between himself and Virgil. And maybe some time to try to look up what all of these feelings were about. Because he wanted to know what this thing was that threatened his friendship with Virgil. Was this a crush? If it was, then why didn’t he feel any of the stuff he was supposed to feel. Except for a very dumb and dangerous wish to kiss his best friend. “And done! Turn around I’m going to fix your hair a bit.” Janus sighed and turned to face the window. He’d let his hair grow the past few years. It came past his shoulders now and he liked the way it looked. He usually wore it up to the side. But Virgil liked to play around with it sometimes. And Janus secretly liked it when he did. “Okay so I’m not going too wild here. I’m keeping it simple,” Virgil assured him as he started brushing Janus’ hair. Janus hummed in acknowledgement, already lost in the feeling of the brush. This was relaxing. And over much too soon. “Done!” Virgil announced as he hopped off the bed. Suddenly Janus was dragged in front of the mirror. “Well, you look hot, if I do say so myself.” Janus was so shocked that he barely registered the complement. He looked… The person in the mirror was… That was him… If he forgot about his clothes for a minute and just looked at his face. The feeling of wrongness was gone. In it’s place was a strange sort of euphoria. “Is this a good speechless or a bad speechless?” Virgil wondered. Janus was pulled away from marveling at how Virgil had managed to go for a natural look in spite of his birthmarks making it harder to pick a color that looked good on both sides. He wanted to hug him. Thank him for making him look beautiful. He'd never appreciated the shape of his eyes until Virgil made them stand out. His lips looked elegant and full. And now it was down, Jan's hair framed his face so nicely. Virgil was amazing. But when he looked at him, the euphoria subsided. Slowly replaced by dread. He looked like a girl. He realized. If he switched out his clothes a little, he could easily be mistaken for a girl… and he liked looking like this. This was too much. Did Virgil know that this would happen? Was that the point of bringing up pronouns? Was this a test? He couldn’t let him know. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t even know what there was to know. He needed time. “You are getting way to good at this. I almost didn't realize it was me,” he said while he was trying to find an excuse to get the make-up of and go home. Virgil smiled. “I'll take that as a complement. It looks good on you. Thanks for letting me try it out,” he offered as he went back to his bag. “I’ve got some sponges to clean up. Dad wouldn't care, but I get it if you don't feel like explaining that we're just messing around.” Janus relaxed a little at that. Virgil didn’t know. Good. He accepted the sponge and with a heavy heart went to the bathroom to clean up. He left his hair down though, finding a little comfort in that. He also left his nails as they were. When he got back Virgil was sitting cross legged on the bed sketching. He looked up and smiled. Janus smiled back and let himself drop in his usual spot. He probably should go. But if he hurried home now, it would be even more suspicious. And as long as they didn’t get too close again, he could ignore at least half of his crisis. “Hey, I’m probably not going to use the lipstick or most of the eyeshadow anymore. You think your mom can use it?” Virgil wondered absentmindedly after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Janus shrugged. “I'll ask her. You sure? Isn't make-up very expensive?” “It’s all either sale or stuff Uncle Thomas gave to me. One of his friends is a make-up artist who gets stuff like that all the time for free. and I wanted to experiment,” Virgil explained casually. “But like I said I’m not a lipstick kind of emo and other than black, purple and maybe blue I don't think I’ll use any of the eyeshadow.” Janus nodded. “Sure.” He didn’t mention that he might make his own selection first. To test out if it was just novelty that made him feel good, or if he was really… a she. Virgil put the sketchbook aside and got out of bed digging through the bag. He put a bunch of stuff on his desk before coming back and handing the bag over. “I’ll need the bag back though. Have her select what she likes and do with the rest whatever you want.” Janus nodded as he accepted the bag. They listened to music for a while, Virgil sketching absentmindedly. “Is being with a man who’s actually a woman gay?” Janus wondered out loud all of a sudden. Virgil looked up. “Does it matter?” he asked. “I mean… A little?” Janus didn’t know how to explain where the question came from. He knew. But he couldn’t say without giving himself away… herself? No. He was not ready to try out the pronoun. Not even in his mind. “Well… I don’t know… Do you mean someone who’s born male but identifies as female?” Janus nodded. “And we’re talking about us as guys right?” Janus nodded again. “Then. If they identify as female, it’s not gay I suppose. They’re a woman. At least that’s what I got from what I looked up. I didn’t do a whole indebt study.” Janus hummed absentmindedly. “I don’t know if I could make out with someone who’s like that,” he admitted. He didn’t mean to sound insensitive. He might be ‘someone like that’ himself. It just felt all so complicated and confusing right now. He didn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t know for sure until he was put in that position. He thought back to the past few years and his failed attempts at trying to feel interested in girls the way Virgil was. He thought he was just picky. That he needed to be really into someone to even consider putting his mouth on theirs. And the argument could be made that this was true for Virgil too. But he only liked him as a friend. Not as someone he wanted to start a family with. Though he could imagine them jokingly making a pact to settle with each other if they were still single when they turned 30 or something like that. Could people just want to kiss someone without being in love? They did that right? One night stands and all that stuff happened all the time. If they could not be a guy or a girl, or be the opposite of what they were born as. Or seemed to be born as at first glance. His head was spinning. He had too much to think about. “Well, I don’t think I’d care. If I like them, and they’re cute. Then I’d be down I think…” Once again Janus hummed vaguely. It was a bit of a relief. One less thing to worry about for him. They sat in silence after that, listening to music. Virgil sketching, Janus trying to compile a plan. When Virgil was called in for lunch Janus left for his house. He had made a decision. He had lunch with his dad, his mom was at work and his dad had to go present a project. Which meant that by some miracle, Janus would have the house to himself. A rare occurrence. Normally he’d invite Virgil over. But this time, he needed some time for himself. He took the make-up bag up and then dug through his mother’s closet. He took out a skirt and a shirt that sat loose so he wouldn’t ruin them. He wasn’t going to take risks with her shoes. He’d have to make due. Once in his room he searched the bag for the right colors. They’d been shades of yellow and brown, he recalled. He saw that Virgil had kept the eyeliner, which made sense. Virgil wore it almost daily. It was fine. This was just an experiment anyway. He wasn’t as good as Virgil. He figured out that he had used slightly different shades, or blended or something on either eye to make up for the different skin tones. He didn’t get it exactly right but close enough. He’d borrowed his mother’s mascara and prayed he was putting it on right. He put on a shade of lipstick that looked close enough to the one Virgil used, wishing he’d paid more attention to what he said rather than panic about how much he wanted to kiss him in that moment. In any case he was done with his make-up. It wasn’t until he was about to put on his mother’s shirt that he realized he probably should have started with the clothes and ended with the hair and make-up. Live and learn. Very carefully, he put on the shirt and then the skirt. He closed his eyes as he stepped in front of the full length mirror glued to his closet door. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s just… try,” he whispered to himself. He opened his eyes… She looked great. Virgil had done a better job, but still. The outfit was… It helped. Janus felt a giddy laugh escape. She played with her hair and held out her hand as if she was greeting someone. “Hi,” she said, making her voice higher. “I’m… Janice. Nice to meet you.” Janice. Familiar but more fitting. Her heart was racing, her stomach in knots. Now this was closer to what Virgil described as falling in love. She was just so happy to meet herself. The pronoun felt much less scary in the privacy of her own room. She was going to have to do more research. Why was she only starting to feel this way now? What was that thing with Virgil earlier? Why did she only feel bad about her body on some days and others she was completely fine with being Janus. Was that normal? But for this moment she let herself be happy. Everything else could wait just a bit longer. The rest of summer, Janus did every chore they could. Their parents and uncle Lo had implemented a system that allowed Virgil and Janus to raise their allowance if they did chores. It was meant to teach them that a good work ethic got rewarded or something along those lines, Janus was sure. But all they cared about was that they’d be able to buy themself some make up and an outfit to wear when they needed it. They were still a mess. The good news was, they now knew why. They were gay. That much was clear. Or well they were exclusively into men. But after talking in some online chat groups, they’d figured out that they weren’t a trans woman, as they’d initially thought. They were, in fact, gender fluid. Some days, he was just Janus. Other days she was more comfortable as Janice. They were okay with they/them on any given day. That is, they’d figured that out in their head. But they weren’t out to anyone yet. They were terrified of telling any adult in their life. Even if they were fairly sure that Uncle Lo, at the very least, was fine with the whole gender thing. But still. They wanted to tell Virgil so badly. But… There was one more thing they’d figured out  that they weren’t ready to share. They were aromantic. Or at least on that spectrum. So… They did and didn’t have a crush on Virgil. There was definitely, attraction they felt for the boy now sitting next to them in the car, singing loudly with them to the songs of one of their favorite bands as they were headed off for a weekend in New York for a P!ATD concert. They were having fun. It was a Janus day, so they felt okay when Uncle Lo and Virgil used male pronouns and stuff like that. Virgil grinned at him. “You better be prepared, I’m going to make you fit in with the crowd tomorrow,” he promised. Janus rolled their eyes and laughed. Setting in the next song with him. About an hour later they got to their hotel. “We have two adjacent rooms. I trust you boys can be responsible enough to be left to your own devices after dinner?” Uncle Lo asked sternly. Virgil and Janus exchanged a glance. “You can trust that we won’t do anything that could make you decide to go back home tomorrow. Making us miss the concert.” Janus assured his honorary uncle, who chuckled. “Well, I suppose that is very sound reasoning. I’ll let you two unpack. We’ll have dinner in the hotel restaurant in an hour,” he reminded them. “Okay, dad,” Virgil grinned as he opened the door to their room and they brought in their luggage. Virgil dropped his as soon as he closed the door. He took a running start and flopped on the bed. Or beds. It was a two bed room, but the beds were pushed together. “This bed is awesome! You have to try this Jan!” Virgil’s tendency to shorten Janus’ name was actually a blessing on their feminine days. Janus smirked and dropped his bags too and dove onto the bed next to Virgil. Oh, they were soft and comfortable. “It’s going to be a pain pushing them apart,” they muttered. “Eh, worries for later,” Virgil said dismissively as he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we get to do this. It feels like forever since we’ve just hung out you know?” Janus felt a little bad. They’d been very tense lately, which had put a damper on every time they’d visited Virgil or invited him over. They hoped things would get better soon. Once they got over their attraction, they could tell him everything. And then they could get back to normal. They just… Most of the time they were fine. But there were moments when Janus had a gay panic around Virgil and his instinctive reaction was to push away. Which obviously confused Virgil. And rightfully so. Rationally they knew that if they explained themselves, Virgil would understand he didn’t do anything wrong here and everything would be fine again. But they were afraid he’d be weirded out by it. He might be okay with their pronouns bouncing around the way they did. He might be okay with him being attracted to guys. And maybe even with him being aromatic… But him being attracted to him might be too much. “Yeah… Sorry. I’m just…” Janus tried to figure out how to explain some of what he’s going through. Virgil was his best friend. He should tell him. “Hey, I get it. High School has me pretty stressed out too. But even if we don’t have all classes together, there’s lunch, and we’ll see each other outside of school hours to. I mean, we live next to each other. There’s no getting rid of me.” He turned his head and smirked at Janus at the last part. Janus smiled a little. Feeling a little better knowing that Virgil had no intentions of leaving him behind. He never had turned away from him just because some other kids told him he could hang out with them. People had even stopped trying to separate them. With one annoying exception. But he wasn’t going to give that guy the satisfaction of taking up space in their summer. They stared at the ceiling for a while, just talking no sign of any awkwardness. They made it through a fun dinner and when they got back to the room they played a game of truth or dare. It was harmless stuff. Just acting silly and nothing too challenging. Until… “Janus, truth or dare?” Virgil chuckled as he sat down after dancing to ‘barbie girl’. “Dare,” Janus replied carelessly. “Okay… I dare you to…” Virgil bit his lip and played with his sleeve as he thought about a good challenge. Janus knew that these were nervous habits of his but they couldn’t dwell on it very much as suddenly Virgil smirked and leaned in. “I dare you to kiss me.” It was a joke. Very clearly he only meant to take Janus by surprise and tease them about their reaction. But Janus was tempted. He could do it. Kiss him like he’d wanted to and Virgil couldn’t be mad because he’d literally told him to do it. It was the only rule they had for this game. Don’t dare anyone to do something if you are not prepared for them to actually follow through. Because they could be competitive enough to do very dumb stuff just to prove a point. So… If he kissed him now, he could maybe finally get the thought out of their head. And try to gage Virgil’s reaction to see if he was ready for them to come out. They’d hesitated too long though. Virgil was falling back and chuckling. “Relax I was just joking. Besides I never specified where you had to kiss me or anything. No need to stress out about it. Though…” Virgil looked up at him with a thoughtful expression. “You’re pretty cute. I wouldn’t hate kissing you I suppose,” he smirked, making heat flood Janus’ body. He wouldn’t? “You know, if I had to,” he added as he stuck out his tongue. Janus felt his embarrassment turn into annoyance. Virgil had gotten into the habit of complementing him like that. Wrapped up in casual teasing. He couldn’t know that it got Janus’ hopes up and Janus knew that getting upset at him would only hurt them both. But he often found himself powerless to stop it. He tossed Virgil a pillow. “You’re impossible,” he huffed. Hoping Virgil wouldn’t spot the frustration in his tone. Which of course he did. “J?” he asked gently as he got up. Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Janus just curled in on himself, too embarrassed to face him. “Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean anything with it okay?” Virgil assured him. “It’s just… I know you are kind of hung up on your skin sometimes… And you know I am terrible at expressing myself… All I wanted to do was like… Let you know I think you look cool and stuff. I know that it probably means nothing coming from me…” God, they were a terrible person. Virgil was trying his best to help them, to lighten the mood that plagued them even though they never let him in on what they were thinking. “You’re wrong,” they muttered into their knees. “It means a lot. It really does… I’m just being an ass hat,” they admitted. Virgil chuckled, their reply enough to let him relax it seemed. “Yeah, but I love ya anyway,” he assured them. There was a pause. “It’s getting late we should split the beds and get some sleep. Big day tomorrow,” Virgil noted. Janus uncurled themselves and nodded. They got up and each pulled one of the beds to the side. They dug through their suitcases for their PJs and Janus worried about whether it would be weird to go to the bathroom to get changed. In the past they just got dressed in front of one another when they stayed over. But that was all before… Before Janus could even finish their thoughts Virgil was heading to the bathroom. They relaxed, not even stopping to wonder why Virgil was suddenly shy about getting dressed in the same room as them. They just got dressed and in bed. They looked up when Virgil got back in the room. “Night J,” he bid as he turned off the lights. “Night V,” Janus replied. It took them a while to get to sleep. Try as they might they couldn’t keep themselves from imagining what it could’ve been like if they hadn’t hesitated. Those thoughts quickly turned to despair though. Virgil had never once expressed attraction to one of their male classmates. Not to mention that despite his whole broody aesthetic, their friend definitely wanted a romantic relationship. Their dreams were plagued with the fear of being found out and rejected. When they woke up Virgil was grinning down at them. Dressed and ready for the day. “Get up sleepy head. Time to get dressed. Breakfast is in one hour,” he informed them as he tossed them color shampoo. Right. They were going to be turned into a real emo kid for the concert today. Janus groaned and got up. Since when was Virgil a morning person? He was usually the last to fully wake up. He must be really looking forward to today. When they got into the bathroom they finally woke up enough to realize that not sleeping well wasn’t the only thing that had them feeling like crap. It was a Janice day. They let out a sigh and were grateful that they packed something they were comfortable in no matter how they felt for the concert. After their shower, they wrapped their hair up in a towel and pulled on the skinny jeans and the baggy band shirt Virgil gave them when he told them they were going to the concert. Apparently it being a few sizes to large added to the look. To Janice, it kind of felt as close as they dared to get to wearing a dress in public. “J? You done yet? Come on! I want to make you pretty!” Virgil’s teasing voice came through the door. Janice wished they could let their friend know how much they appreciated his make overs. “Yeah, I’m ready,” they replied, trying to sound slightly reluctant. Virgil got in with a grin, dragging a chair from the room along with him. He sat Janice down and dashed out of the room to get his make-up bag. When he returned his grin had not faded even a little. He immediately got to work. “You want to wear your hair down or up today?” he asked as he took out a hairdryer and started drying their hair for them. “Down,” Janice replied. Always down on Janice days. Virgil nodded. “Okay. I’m going to pull it out of the way for a bit though,” he informed them as he turned off the hairdryer and tied their hair together on the top of their head. “Close your eyes. It’s going to be a surprise,” he told them. Janice took a deep breath and relaxed as they closed their eyes. They felt Virgil apply something to their face with a sponge. Then a soft brush applied something powdery. Then he made quick work of their eyes and lips. “Okay. It should be warmed up now,” they heard Virgil murmur as he let down their hair again. Before they could ask they felt Virgil start to brush their hair. Pulling up locks and holding something warm against their scalp, moving upwards slowly. Wait was he… Straightening their hair? “Okay…” Virgil mused as he readjusted their shirt. “You can look.” Janice could hear the pride in Virgil’s voice. Clearly he was satisfied with the result. They opened their eyes and felt their mouth drop in awe. “Tragically beautiful I’d say,” Virgil smirked. Their birthmarks… They were gone. Or hidden at least. “What do you think?” Virgil pressed, sounding a little nervous. “It looks great,” they agreed. The waves were out of their hair and the black color actually looked pretty good. Their eyes and lips were accented with dark make-up. They looked good. A little sad but… Also cute? Virgil had rearranged their shirt. Janice had tried to center it, but Virgil had made it so that one of their shoulders was bare. They had never felt this good about how they looked on a Janice day while there were others around. “Awesome. Give me a minute to fix myself and then we’ll head to breakfast,” Virgil told them, clearly relieved that they liked their look. Uncle Lo was okay with Janice’s make over as soon as Virgil assured him that the color wouldn’t stick. And even that was probably only because he didn’t want Janice’s parents to get upset about it. They spent the day sightseeing. Janice got addressed as ‘miss’ at a few stores and while he and Virgil chuckled about it, in secret Janice was very happy with those instances. The concert itself was amazing. For a little bit they could pretend that they didn’t have massive secrets and that things would be okay.

everything to lose

@moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer​ @alias290​ @meowthefluffy​ @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse​ @cirishere​ @hestianerd1​

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Shelter

[UK Tour]

just some care taking and fluff from the best mother hen duo~

TW: Vomit

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

 “When was the last time you slept, young lady?”

The young music director hunched over the table, turned her head slowly and blinked blearily up at the two queens standing in her dressing room. Her face was ghostly pale, more so than usual, making the black bags under her eyes more prominent, like onyxes buried in snow. Someone passing by might have even thought she had twin black eyes. Her hair was a complete mess, knotted and tangled, despite her having brushed it for the show that day, and hanging in thick, greasy locks at the sides of her head.

She looked utterly exhausted and unwell.

 “I dunno,” Joan mumbled, shrugging her shoulders sluggishly. Her eyelids kept drooping over her dull grey eyes; her entire body kept begging her for sleep, but she refused.

 “How many of these have you had?” Aragon asked, peering into the trashcan full of empty Rockstar cans.

 “Umm,” Joan counted on her fingers. “I don’t know. Seven?”

Howard’s eyes widened. “Seven?” She repeated shrilly, making Joan flinch back. “It’s only just turning one! You’ve had seven already?”

 “Doesn’t matter,” Joan said, not making eye contact. “Not that big a deal… Just energy drinks… I need energy.”

 “It is a big deal, Joan.” Howard said firmly. “So much of this stuff can kill you. ”

 “300mg of caffeine,” Aragon read from one of the cans, whistling. “Kid, you gotta cut down on this stuff. Your little body won’t be able to handle it.”

 “I’m not little.” Joan growled, gathering herself up to her full size of a menacing 5’2. Then, she faltered, winced, and pressed a hand to her temple. Howard gently touched her back.

 “Sweetheart?” Howard knelt down beside her chair. “Are you alright?”

 “My head just hurts,” Joan whispered, her voice quivering. “Th-that’s all.”

 “It’s all that caffeine,” Aragon shook her head. “Let’s go back to the hotel, hm? We can take care of you.”

Howard nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea, Catalina. Come on, Joan. Can you stand?”

 “But...my work…” Joan cast a dismayed look at her table as Aragon hoisted her to her feet. “I have to…”

 “Shh, it’s alright,” Howard calmed her. “It’ll all still be here when you feel better. Now, come on.”

Joan staggered along with Howard and Aragon, lagging behind because of her exhaustion and obvious discomfort. Howard had to slow down at one point and steady the poor, clumsy little thing when she stumbled.

Getting to the hotel room Howard and Aragon shared for that trip was a blessing.

 “Oh, honey,” Howard murmured when Joan collapsed against one of the beds. She didn’t even climb onto it entirely, just crumpled. Howard sat down next to the girl and rubbed firm circles against her back. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

Joan, despite her condition, shook her head.

Aragon chuckled. “Someone is stubborn,” She mused while gliding to the bathroom. Howard heard her turn on the bath faucet, which made Joan’s head pop up.

 “Wh-what are you doing?” Joan asked. “What’s--”

 “Shh,” Howard stroked her cheeks with her thumbs. “Catalina is running you a nice, hot bath so you can clean up and relax. Then you can snuggle up with us and get some rest. How does that sound?”

Joan shook her head. “N-no. I can’t.” She tried to stand up, but whimpered sharply and nearly collapsed again. Howard eased her back down.

 “What hurts?” Howard asked.

 “M-my head,” Joan whispered. “And my back…”

 “Your posture probably isn’t the best, huh?” Howard said. “That stool you have to sit in for the show must really mess you up?”

Joan nodded with a tiny whine. She leaned her head against Howard’s shoulder, her entire body shuddering with exhaustion.

 “The bath is ready,” Aragon said, walking out a few minutes later. She smiled at Joan. “Come on, precious.”

Joan hobbled to the bathroom, which Howard joined her in, seeing as she was way too sleepy to bathe herself, and the last thing they wanted was for their music director to accidentally drown herself.

 “That is SO RUDE!” Aragon bellowed when she was banished from the bathroom with them. “Why can’t I be in there, too?”

 “Because Joan is already going to be awkward enough,” Howard said calmly. “Plus, she’s already seen me naked before from when she worked for me. It’s kind of a mutual thing. It’ll make it less weird.”

 “But I wanna help!” Aragon protested, almost whining like a child, which made Howard chuckle.

 “You can get some painkillers. Maybe even some lunch?” Howard suggested.

Aragon thought over it, then gave in. “Fine! But I won’t be happy about it. And I get to help next time!”

Howard laughed. “Alright, alright. Now, shoo.”

After Aragon left, Howard turned to her patient hunched on the toilet, barely awake. Howard had to help her undress and then step into the warm bathwater, which seemed to rouse her slightly.

 “The director is gonna be so mad at me,” Joan groaned.

 “And why is that?” Howard asked as she used a plastic cup to pour water over Joan’s head.

 “Falling behind on work,” Joan answered, fumbling with her words slightly. “‘E’s not gonna take me seriously, Kat…”

 “He’ll understand that you needed to take a small break to take care of yourself,” Howard said. “And, besides, won’t you be able to do more work with rest? You’ll be even more efficient than you are now!”

Joan shrugged. “Maybe…” She let out an adorable yawn.

Howard chuckled. She began scrubbing vanilla-scented shampoo into Joan’s hair, washing out all the grease and oil that had coated the white-blonde locks. Joan began to coo as she massaged her scalp.

 “Relaxing, isn’t it?” Howard said, keeping her voice soft.

 “Mhm…” Joan agreed sleepily. “Really nice…”

 “You are so cute.” Howard said, and Joan appeared to be too tired to be flustered over the comment.

Silence fell over the bathroom as Howard washed the young music director. She took note of how skinny Joan still was, though she supposed what it was like having a high metabolism. Joan had stated several times that she always stayed thin no matter how much she ate, which she didn’t particularly like because she wanted to gain more muscle and body fat, since she didn’t exactly have much of either. To Howard and Aragon, her body type was worrying. She looked like she would snap in half like a twig if she so much as got pat on the back a little too hard.

 “Kat…?” Joan’s voice came, so soft and wry.

 “Yes, sweetie?” Howard replied.

 “Is--is there any water?” Joan swallowed thickly. “I feel kinda funny…”

Howard made a sympathetic noise. All that caffeine must be kicking poor Joan’s ass.

 “Yeah, lemme go get some. I’ll be right back.”

Howard was only gone for a minute or so, but that was enough time for Joan to leap out of the bathtub and crash onto the floor. Howard heard her thump against the ground as she grabbed a water bottle and quickly rushed back into the bathroom to find Joan hunched over the toilet, dripping wet, shaking uncontrollably, and throwing up.

 “Oh, sweetheart…”

Howard went to Joan’s side instantly, wrapping a towel around her naked, shivering body. She gathered Joan’s freshly-cleaned hair out of the way and tied it back with a ponytail sitting on the sink counter.

 “Just let it up,” Howard said gently, rubbing circles against Joan’s upper back.

 “I’m t--” Joan was cut off by a hiccup that brought up a torrent of sick, and she could barely catch her breath before she threw up again.

 “There you go,” Howard soothed. “Good girl. Remember to breathe, honey.”

 “There’s nothing left,” Joan panted after a few moments of heaving. She collapsed back into Howard’s arms.

 “I know,” Howard said, running her fingers through Joan’s soaked hair. “Your poor tummy. Are you feeling any better after getting all that out?”

Joan shrugged weakly. “K-kinda? I’m still really tired and my head hurts…”

 “Catalina will be back soon with medicine,” Howard said.

And, speak of the devil, Aragon came in a few moments later, loaded with plastic bags on her wrists.

 “I’m back!” The gold queen called in a sing-song, Welsh-tinged voice. She peered through the door Howard had left half open. “Woah. What did I miss? Is everything okay?” She gave Joan a worried look.

 “Our Joey may be just a little caffeine overdosed,” Howard said.

 “Oh, poor thing,” Aragon bustled inside the bathroom with the bags and knelt besides the pair. She gently caressed one of Joan’s cheeks. “Hey, baby girl. Not feeling too great, huh?”

Joan shook her head with a whimper.

 “I’m going to go get the bed ready for her,” Howard said. “Can you take her? And give her some painkillers.”

Aragon nodded and wrapped Joan’s quaking, towel-swathed body into her arms. Joan instantly curled into her warmth and Aragon smiled.

 “You heard the boss,” Aragon said jokingly. “Let’s get some medicine in you.”

Joan obliged and took a few tablets of Ibuprofen, then promptly curled back up in Aragon’s arms, which she remained in until Howard came back in saying the bed was ready. Aragon carried her to the bed after helping her get dressed.

 “Sorry for being so much trouble…” Joan said guiltily.

 “Nonsense.” Aragon said. “No trouble at all.”

 “We want to help you feel better, sweetie.” Howard added.

Joan didn’t look completely convinced, but nodded anyway. She yawned adorably.

 “Get some sleep, sweet girl.” Aragon said.

Joan listened, and fell asleep within a few minutes, curled between Howard and Aragon.

 “I always wanted a daughter.”

Aragon looked up at Howard curiously. “Really?”

 “Mhm,” Howard nodded, smiling. She stroked Joan’s hair with a loving look in her eyes. “I wanted to have a daughter so I could give her a better life than I had. I was going to spoil her so much. She would be my little princess. Hopefully a Mini Me. I thought that would have been cute.” She chuckled. “I was thinking of the name Patricia.”

Aragon burst into laughter so loud that Joan stirred and whined softly in her sleep. Howard gave her a scolding look.

 “Sorry, sorry,” Aragon said through giggles. “It’s just-- Patricia? Really?”

Howard lifted her nose haughtily. “Yes! I thought it was a very unique name for that time! You don’t run into very many Patricia’s!”

Aragon laughed again.

 “Do not laugh at me!” Howard barked. “I bet you’re just jealous that you didn’t come up with such a creative name. You went with Mary. Yuck! So boring! So bland! Where’s the originality?”

Aragon continued to laugh, so much so that she actually started to snort, which then made Howard laugh. Between them, Joan whined, then raised a sluggish hand to swat at them.

 “Be quiet,” The music director whined. “I’m try’na sleep!”

 “Sorry, baby,” Howard softened her voice. She smoothed back Joan’s hair. “Go back to sleep. We’ll be quiet.”

Joan mumbled something else, then promptly conked out again. Aragon laughed softly.

  “So grumpy!” Aragon said. “But back to you wanting a daughter!”

Howard nodded. “It never happened, clearly. But I still sometimes wish. Maybe it’s because I’m in an adult body now. I have a chance at motherhood.” She smiled lovingly down at Joan. “I guess my prayers were answered.”

 “She’s no Patricia,” Aragon said, and Howard whacked her arm.

 “She’s better than any Patricia,” Howard said. “She’s so precious. I’m lucky to have her.”

Aragon smiled. “We both are. I’m glad I get another chance to be a proper mother.”

 “Even though you’re kind of a brat at times.”

 “Oi! Rude!”

Howard laughed. “Sorry, sorry! But I’m happy for you, Catalina. Really.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, either gazing down at Joan’s peaceful form or watching the TV.

 “I can’t believe you wanted to have a Princess Patricia.”

 “Oh-- Shut up!”

[longitudinalwaveme]

A Pipe Dream

The Flash stars in: A Pipe Dream

Dramatis Personae

Wally West, the garrulous, impulsive, and friendly third Flash

Joan Garrick, Jay Garrick’s wife, who is patient, loving, and supportive of everyone

Iris Allen, Barry Allen’s wife, an inquisitive daredevil reporter

The Pied Piper, alias Hartley Rathaway, a Robin Hood-esque thief

The Top, alias Roscoe Dillon, an arrogant, elitist, and top-obsessed criminal

Weather Wizard, alias Mark Mardon, an overconfident, rather stupid robber

Heat Wave, alias Mick Rory, a dim, shockingly gentle pyromaniac

Script

Act I

(Joan and Iris are onstage)

Iris: So, how’s Jay?

Joan: He’s doing well enough, I suppose, but, to be honest, I’m a little worried about him. He keeps claiming that he’s retired from crime fighting, but every time I turn around, he’s wearing that silly hat of his and racing off to fight bank robbers or carjackers or giant, murderous, telepathic gorillas. It was one thing when he was fifty, but now he’s 99 years old, and the doctors say that his heart won’t be able to take much more of his running at super speed.

Iris: What does he say about that?

Joan: That (strikes a heroic pose) “ it will be a pleasure to die in the line of duty.”

Iris: (Laughs) That sounds just like Barry.

Joan: I know, and it’s not funny. Our husbands spend so much time saving everyone else that they never stop to worry about themselves.

Iris: I guess that’s true-but hey, that’s part of what we’re here for, to make sure our husbands take some “me time” occasionally.

Joan: In speaking of husbands, how’s Barry?

Iris: He’s not doing so well. He came down with the flu a few days ago, and I’ve been going crazy trying to keep him from leaving his bed so that he can go fight crime.

Joan: Oh, I’ve had that happen with Jay before. Once, when he had pneumonia, he heard about a shoplifting ring, and I had to call in Ted and Alan-you know them as Wildcat and the original Green Lantern-to physically restrain him so that he wouldn’t leave the house to go stop them.

Iris: Well, I haven’t had to resort to calling the Justice League to restrain Barry yet, so things could be worse.

Joan: You’re right. Things could be worse. We could be having to deal with two sick speedsters each. Or a sick Superman!

Iris: Man, that would be a nightmare. I have no idea how that Lois Lane woman does it.

Joan: Maybe Clark just doesn’t get sick. After all, he isn’t a human, so maybe our diseases don’t affect him and he’s as invulnerable to getting sick as he is to everything else.

Iris: Maybe so.

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Joan. Hi, Aunt Iris. (Sneezes) How are you?

Iris: Hi, Wally. We’re doing all right. How are you?

Wally: I’m fine, but Linda and the kids all have the flu (Sneezes) and the twins also both have strep. (Sneezes) It sure is lucky that I don’t get sick, or we’d have a real mess on our hands.

Iris: Um, Wally, are you sure you’re not sick?

Wally: Yeah, I’m sure. (Sneezes three times) I never get sick. I had perfect attendance all throughout school, and you can check my records if you don’t believe me.

Joan: Can you at least try to take it easy, Wally?

Wally: I can’t do that! Jay’s retired and Uncle Barry has the flu, and someone has to protect the city! Besides, I can’t deny my adoring fans the chance to see me because I have a few sniffles. (Sneezes) I’ll be fine!

Iris: (To Joan) Is there a single superhero in the entire world who actually rests when they get sick?

Joan: Speaking from experience, I don’t think there is.

Wally: I said that I’m fine! (Sneezes) So, do you want to get lunch? I’m starving!

Iris: Wally, it’s 8:00 in the morning!

Wally: Okay, so let’s get brunch!

Iris: But I just ate breakfast!

Wally: I don’t follow. (Sneezes) I just ate breakfast, too, and I’m already hungry again.

Joan: Wally, dear, you have to consume 980,000 calories per day just to survive, so you have to eat almost constantly. We simply don’t have the appetite or the metabolism to keep up with you.

Wally: Oh, right. I forget that fact a lot-especially (Sneezes) since my kids inherited my metabolism and have to (Sneezes) eat even more than I do.

Iris: It’s all right, Wally.

Wally: So, um, do you want to go to McDonalds with me (Sneezes) and watch me eat? With Linda and the kids all sick, I’ve been cooped up in the house for a week, and I’m going stir-crazy!

Iris: I suppose so. After all, with Barry sick, I haven’t been able to get out much, either.

Joan: I’ll go, too. After all, if you really are sick despite your claims, someone needs to keep an eye on you so that you don’t run yourself into the ground.

Wally: Great! I love you guys so much, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into (Sneezes) 340 Big Macs! I love McDonalds food!

Iris: (Shakes head) Never change, Wally. Never change.

(Exit All)

Act II

(The Pied Piper is onstage, playing an instrument. Enter the Top)

Top: Top of the morning to you, Piper.

Piper: Oh, good, you were able to make it. Did you have any trouble getting here?

Top: No. There is not a person in this city who would dare inconvenience the Top.

Piper: What about our friends in the red pajamas?

Top: Don’t make me laugh, Piper. The old one is feeble and retired, the young one is impulsive and stupid, and the only one that poses a threat has the flu, and therefore cannot be on top of his game. They could not bother me if they tried. What of you, my friend? Are you still in tip- top shape, or has your life spun out of control?  

Piper: I’m as fit as a fiddle, Roscoe. The Flashes have no reason to hunt down a peaceable man who steals money from drug lords and self-absorbed starlets and gives it to the poor. In fact, if I could only make them realize that the real villains are the members of the 1% who enrich themselves at the expense of the poor, we would be good friends.

Top: But I heard you were homeless?

Piper: I am.

Top: How, exactly, did that come to pass?

Piper: Well, after my last heist, I was going to buy an apartment for myself, but while I was on my way to buying it, I saw a very pregnant woman with two small children crying, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she was trying to escape from her abusive boyfriend but that she had no money, and so I gave her the money and told her to use it to make a good life for herself and her children, and so I was unable to buy anything.

Top: You gave all of the money away?

Piper: Of course! They needed it more than I did.

Top: You, sir, are a fool. This is the fifth time that you have given up a permanent home to help some wretch-the fifth time!

Piper: Roscoe, you of all people should understand what it is like to be an outcast. How can you criticize my desire to help others that the world has forgotten?

Top: Because I am a genius, something that decidedly does not apply to the people for whom you constantly risk your freedom and your own safety.

Piper: Roscoe, my early life was spent in scandalous luxury, luxury that my parents took at the expense of the poor who helped build their empire. It’s only fair that I go without to help them now. (Pause) So, do you know if anyone else is coming to our little meeting?

Top: No. I do not concern myself with the behavior of lesser men like them.

(Enter Heat Wave)

Heat Wave: Hi, Piper! Hi, Top! Seeing you two really warms my heart! (Hugs Piper)

Piper: Mick, I love hugs, but…I….can’t….breathe!

Heat Wave: Oh, sorry. (Releases him)

Piper: Hi, Mick. How have you been?

Heat Wave: I’m okay. I was burning up with fever a couple days ago, but I’m all better now.

Piper: I’m glad to hear that. Do you know if any of the others are coming?

Heat Wave: Captain Cold won’t be here. He’s got a bad case of the chills , and besides, he’s still in prison, and so is Mirror Master. They say hi.

Piper: And what about Glider?

Top: My love is on vacation in the Bahamas. She won’t be able to come.

Piper: Wait. I thought you said that you didn’t know if anyone else could come!

Top: Did I? Oh. My apologies.

Piper: (To Heat Wave) Do you know if Digger is coming?

Heat Wave: He won’t be coming. He broke his leg and told me that he didn’t feel like messing with crutches when I brought him chocolate and flowers.

Piper: Okay, and what about Mardon?

Heat Wave: I don’t know. Last I heard, he was feeling a little under the weather.

(Enter Weather Wizard)

Wizard: Nope, I’m as right as rain!

Piper: Hi, Mark!

Wizard: Hi, Piper! Hey, Mick.

Heat Wave: How’ve you been? I heard you were sick.

Wizard: Nope. I’ve just been taking it easy.

Top: What a surprise.

Wizard: What’s that supposed to mean?

Top: It means that you are a lazy fool who hasn’t done a day’s work in his life.

Wizard: Am not! Why, I stole an entire tractor-trailer full of sports cars in an hour once!

Top: Yes, by sitting on your couch and allowing a tornado to detach the trailer from the cab of the truck and deliver the loot to your house.

Wizard: So? You can’t fault me for conserving energy!

Top: “Conserving energy”, my foot.

Wizard: What’s the matter, Top? Are you jealous of my power?

Top: No. I simply think it is wasted on a man who uses it only to commit petty thefts.

Wizard: (Raises weather wand) Petty? (Waves wand) I’ll show you petty! (Thunderclap)

Heat Wave: Whoa there, Mark, let’s not get hasty. I don’t want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret-like destroying this building with all of us in it!

Piper: Mick’s right, Mark. It’s too dangerous to get into a fight here.

Wizard: (Lowers weather wand) Fine. But if you expect me to take his stupid comments forever, you’re chasing rainbows, Piper.

Piper: (to Top) Roscoe, please don’t antagonize Mark. You really don’t want him to make you face the music .

Top: I am not afraid of him, Piper.

Wizard: Well, you should be, because if you don’t start respecting me, our little truce will be nothing more than the calm before the storm!

Top: Whatever you say, Mardon. Whatever you say. (Pause) Shall we get down to business?

Heat Wave: Yeah, we should. Who has a plan for our next heist?

Piper: I do, actually, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be calling the tune on this job. You see, some friends of my parents are importing some very fine jewelery, and I think that those jewels will make for a tidy sum for the poor….

Act III

(Wally, Iris, and Joan are sitting at a table)

Wally: Boy, that was delicious! (Sneezes) I don’t care what Uncle Barry says-McDonalds has the best food in the world!

Joan: It isn’t exactly the healthiest food, you know.

Wally: Yeah, I know-but with the way I burn calories (Sneezes) , it isn’t going to hurt me any!

Iris: Um, I’m not sure that’s how it works, Wally.

Wally: Well, even if it isn’t, I’m young and it tastes good, so who cares?

Joan: I do, for one.

Iris: And so do I.

Wally: Good grief! When are you two (Sneezes) going to stop treating me like a little kid?

Iris: Wally, I watched you grow up. It’s going to take awhile for me to adjust-especially when you keep acting like a crazy teenager.

Wally: I don’t act like a crazy teenager! (Sneezes) I act like a crazy adult!

Joan: Wally, there isn’t much difference between a crazy teenager and a crazy adult.

Wally: Oh, yeah? (Sneezes) Prove it!

Joan: The Trickster.

Wally: Yeah, you’ve pretty much got me there. (Sneezes) Sorry I’m so annoying.

Joan: It’s all right. You’re not annoying most of the time, dear.

Iris: Just some of the time.

Wally: I love you guys. (Sneezes) So, what should we do next?

Iris: We could go shoe shopping. I’ve been needing a new pair of heels.

Wally: No! Not shoe shopping! Linda’s taken me on enough shoe shopping trips to last a lifetime! (Sneezes)

Iris: I was only kidding, Wally.

Wally: Good. Oooh, why don’t we get ice cream?

Joan: You can get ice cream. It probably isn’t a good idea for us to get it.

Wally: Yes! (Disappears, then returns with ice cream and cake)

Joan: Where did you get the cake from?

Wally: China. (Sneezes) They make everything there these days.

Iris: (Laughs) You ran all the way to China just to get cake?

Wally: Well, I was aiming for Hungary, but I overshot.

Joan: How did you overshoot Hungry? You have a full-time residency there.

Wally: Huh? (Pauses, then laughs) Oh, I get it! That’s hilarious, Joan!  

Joan: Why thank you, Wally. I think you and your aunt are rubbing off on me.

Iris: I’m glad we decided to do this. Barry’s a dear, but when he gets sick, he can be a bit of a nightmare.

Wally: Wait, Uncle Barry can be a nightmare?

Iris: Believe it or not, yes. Now, he’s not rude or whiny, but he keeps trying to leave his bed and stop crimes instead of resting so that he can get well, and it’s very irritating to make him stay put, because he gives me these really sad puppy dog eyes when I tell him to stay at home.

Wally: Hah! I knew he (Sneezes) had a weakness besides punctuality!

Joan: All three of you have that weakness, Wally.

Wally: I do not! (His phone rings) Sorry. I need to take this. (Pulls out phone) Hello, Commissioner? The Rogues? What are they doing? Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. All right. I’ll be there as soon as possible, Commish! (Sneezes) You’re welcome. Good-bye. (Puts away phone) Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta run! The Rogues are trying to steal some jewelry, and I need to stop them.

Iris: No problem, Wally. Go get them!

Joan: And be careful!

(Exit Wally)

Iris: You know, just once, I would like to have an outing that isn’t interrupted by criminals, the Rogues, telepathic gorillas, or aliens who want to take over the world.

Joan: I fully agree with you, Iris. (Pause) Would you like to go shoe shopping with me while he’s gone?

Iris: That sounds terrific, Joan.

Commercial Break!

Act IV

(Enter the Rogues, running)

Piper: (Yelling over his shoulder) Thank you for your generous donation to the poor, Mr. Englewood!

Top: Oh, that was terrific fun! I’m feeling on top of the world right now!

Heat Wave: You’re right, Top. There’s nothing like a nice heist with all of my bestest friends to give me those nice warm and fuzzy feelings.

Wizard: Tell me about it. I’m on cloud nine!

Top: What are you going to do with your money, Piper? I am going to buy a nice suit and some new tops for my collection.

Heat Wave: I’m going to buy some presents for all of my friends so that I can warm their hearts. I’m sure Captain Cold will love a new parka.

Top: I was not asking you, you imbecile.

Heat Wave: Oh. I’m sorry, Top.

Top: Just be sure it does not happen again.

Wizard: I’m going to buy me a new car so that I can finally get a girlfriend!

Top: That will never happen, Mark, and I was not asking you either.

Wizard: Well gee, thanks for destroying my ray of hope, Roscoe.

Top: Moron. (To Piper) Well, my friend? What are you going to do with your share of the loot?

Piper: I’m going to donate it to a charity for sick children. The cries of joy that will produce will be music to my ears.

Top: You are giving away your money again? (Pause) I do not believe you.

Piper: What’s so wrong about wanting to help people?

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Because you’re going about it all wrong, Piper.

Wizard: By the four seasons! It’s the Flash!

Top: Not to worry, Mardon. This one is a mere child. (To Wally) Spin.

Wally: Whoa! (Stumbles, but keeps his balance) You should become a ride at Disney World or something, Top, because you make me just as dizzy.

Heat Wave: It’s time for you to take the heat, Kid Flash! (Fires at Wally, who narrowly dodges)

Wally: No thanks!

Wizard: (Waves his wand) We’re too powerful for you to stop, Flash. Why don’t you take a rain check?

Wally: No way! Defeating a bunch of clowns like you will be a breeze!

Top: Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. (Spins out of Wally’s way)

Heat Wave: This situation is too hot for you to handle, Flash! You should leave before you get hurt or something.

Wally: Get hurt by one of you? Yeah, right. (He sneezes, and Top grabs him from behind)

Top: You were saying?

Wizard: Nighty night, Flash. (Raises his wand, and Wally sneezes again, causing the wand to go flying out of his hand) My wand!

Wally: (Breaks free) Nice try, Mardon. (He handcuffs Wizard and Top to one another)

Heat Wave: Hey, nobody hurts my friends like that!

Wally: (Taps him on the shoulder) You need better friends. (Handcuffs him to a lamp)

Piper: Flash, I’m not going to fight you. I abhor violence, as a general rule, and I know as well as anyone that my musical hypnosis doesn’t work well on you. However, before you take me away, I want to ask you something. Mr. Englewood hardly needs more money, and everyone knows that his factories are some of the most hazardous in the country for his workers. Why is it so wrong that I take money from him and give it to children who are dying from preventable diseases because of lack of money? You can’t argue that he deserves it more than they do, and he’s wealthy enough that he won’t even miss the money we took from him. Can’t you at least let me give the money away before you take me to jail? Please?

Wally: Piper, if I’m being honest, part of me wants to let you, but here’s the thing. I can’t let you break the law in order to help people. I’m sorry.

Piper: That’s all right. You’re just doing what you were told is right. I can’t fault you for that.

(Wally handcuffs him)

Wally: A word of advice, Piper? If you really want to help the poor, and I think you do, I think you’ll find it more rewarding if you do it on the right side of the law.

(Exit Wally)

Wizard: Well, that was a bust.

Top: For once, Mardon, we agree about something.

Heat Wave: Hey, guys, look at the bright side! At least we’re all still together.

Wizard: True. Nobody can call us fair-weather friends!

Heat Wave: And you know what’s even better? When we go back to prison, we can see Captain Cold again!

Top: I’m thrilled.

Wizard: Aww, don’t be such a downer, Top. You should learn to see the silver lining.

Top: I hate you both.

Piper: (Aside) All I wanted was to give the poor justice. Why is that a crime? The idea of people like my parents helping the poor is just a pipe dream...isn’t it?

Act V

(Iris and Joan are onstage. Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Iris! Hi, Joan! (Sneezes)

Joan: Oh, hi, Wally. Are you all right?

Wally: I’m okay. (Sneezes) But I think you were right about me being sick. I just took my temperature, and I’m 114 degrees. (Sneezes)

Joan: 114? How are you still alive?

Wally: Because the baseline body temperature for speedsters is 107 degrees.

Joan: Oh, that’s right.

Iris: Were you able to stop the Rogues?

Wally: Yep! (Sneezes) They’re being transported back to prison now, and all the jewelry has been returned. (Sneezes)

Iris: So, what do you want to do now, Wally?

Wally: I want to go home and sleep. (Sneezes) Running around sick won’t help anything.

Iris: Yes! A hero finally sees reason!

Wally: (Sneezes) Oh, and one more thing? Would you mind (Sneezes) donating money to the Children’s Health Foundation? I have a certain….friend who would really appreciate it.

Joan: Of course we will, Wally.

Wally: Thanks. You two are the greatest! (Sneezes)

[wlw-imagines-blog]

The Darkest House on Christmas Day {Carol Danvers x Fem!Reader}

Summary: Hallmark movies are so overrated. You and Carol are pleased to learn that you are every hallmark movie’s nightmare; a couple of gays. After moving into a small, ideal town, you and your fiance experience small town minds and souls. There must be a way to get through the season in one piece.

Pairing: Carol Danver x Fem!Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: indirect homophobia, heteronormative themes

A/N: This was super fun to write, it was inspired by a Hallmark movie!

Moving houses is always stressful. Moving houses a week before Christmas is unbelievably hectic. 

Your fiance, Carol, had assured you that the move would be a breeze; load up the truck in the morning, drive an hour, unload in the afternoon, then settle into the new house for the night. The new house was absolutely wonderful. The sweet little two story was at the end of a cul-de-sac, coloured blue with white shutters, and a large front porch.

The drive had been stressful to say the least. Going through snow and sleet on a highway of insane Christmas drivers. After an hour and a half, the two of you arrived, at your new slice of heaven.

“Get a load of this!” Carol called out, jumping onto the porch. She threw her arms wide. “It’s wonderful out here! There’s so much more space!”

You grinned, burrowing your face into your scarf. “It’s lovely! Much better than my shoe box in New York!”

Just as you were going to step off the porch, Carol wound her arms around your waist. “Come oooon, one inaugural dance to christen the porch, what do you say?”

You turned, throwing your arms around her neck. “I can think of a better to christen it.”

“Oh yeah?” She grinned, cheeks dimpling. “Wanna come inside and show me?”

You stole a quick kiss. “After we set up the bed, yeah?”

Carol hummed, distracted by your mouth. She dove back in, pressing sweet kisses to the corners of your mouth, before landing one directly on your mouth.

“Um, excuse me?” A voice pulled the two of you out of your reverie. 

Carol and you turned to see a middle-aged woman, wearing a Christmas jumper that could have been mistaken as a ugly sweater. She was bottle blonde and bristling, with heavy pale eye shadow and flared jeans.

“Are you the new... neighbours?” she asked in a bright, obviously confused voice. Her eyes darted from you to Carol.

Carol untangled herself from you. “Hi! my name is Carol Danvers, and this my fiance, Y/F/N Y/L/N. We just moved in two minutes ago.”

“Very pleased to meet you,” you said, reaching out to shake her hand.

She smiled and hesitantly shook your hand, eyes remaining cloudy. “My name is Brenda, I live next door with my husband Richard. We’re so... pleased that you moved in five days before Christmas!”

Her honeyed tones did nothing to sweeten her sour mood and bitter words. Carol blinked at you and you raised your eye brows in response. 

This wasn’t going to be good.

You intercepted before Carol could say anything too scathing to your new neighbour. “Right, we had no time before today, and we needed to be out of my apartment by yesterday. Five days is still a lot of time before Christmas!”

Brenda’s fake smile only widened. Jesus, this lady was making you sweat. 

“Of course! It’s just the neighbourhood has a theme every year; all white!”

The two of you balked, mouths open.

“Every house must be adorned with all white lights!”

Carol visibly relaxed while you breathed in deeply. “Lights! Of course. We’ll, uh, see if we can make time to put something up. We’re going to be pretty busy with moving.”

“I totally understand,” Brenda said in a tone that made her seem to not understand at all. “But you better put them up quick, you don’t want to be the only dark house of Christmas!”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you found yourself agreeing. “It was nice meeting you, Brenda.”

Brenda smiled and nodded, as to say yes, it is nice to meet me.

You and Carol waved goodbye as Brenda turned sharp on her heel and returned to her home. 

She turned to you. “Everything about that conversation was disarming. Her vibes are disgusting.”

“Hey, don’t be too mean; we might need to borrow a cup of sugar from her one day.” You laughed, shoving her gently. “Come on, let’s unload before it gets dark out.”

“Right!” She clapped her hands. “Then we can christen the house!”

You shushed her playfully then followed her to the moving truck.

***

With all your kitchen supplies in boxes, and no groceries in the fridge, you and Carol drove out to the nearest restaurant on the downtown strip. 

Downtown itself was festive and cozy. Lights were strung up on every shop, with wreaths and Christmas trees at every door and corner. People bustled about, shopping and spending time with their families. A gentle snow had started, gently peppering Carol’s light hair and landing in her eye lashes. 

You smiled at her, winding your hand in hers.

There was a small diner on the corner of the street. It wasn’t as quiet as you had expected for a Tuesday night. From the looks of the patrons, it was the usual crowd; the owner and his wife, enough women to create a book club, and a few bachelors loitering at the bar. No one paid you much attention.

Carol squeezed your arm. “I’m going to the little girl’s room, grab a table for us?”

You nodded as she left. 

The owner’s wife finally saw you as you sat down at a small table for two. 

“Well hello!” She wandered over to you. “How many tonight?”

“Two of us, thank you.”

“So, where’s your husband?” The perky woman asked nosily, eyes landing on your engagement ring. She was older, with grey hair and bright blue eyes. 

You paused uncomfortably, taking the napkin from the table. “My fiance is in the bathroom. We’ll order in a bit.”

She nodded, not aware of your sudden attitude shift. 

“My name’s Joan, i run The Diner with my husband, Don. We’re the town’s central hub for good food and even better company!”

“It’s a lovely little place.”

“Are you and your husband passing just passing through?”

“No, my fiance and I just moved in this morning. She was excited to visit downtown.” you stated pointedly. “It’s beautiful this time of year.”

“Wow, moving in just before Christmas!” Joan steamrolled along. “He was right! Downtown is absolutely gorgeous during Christmastime. The snow, the lights, and the people make the town absolutely dream-like.”

This entire conversation made your skin prickle. You looked past Joan and saw Carol leaving the bathroom, drying her hands on her pants. As discreetly as possible, you shot her a look that screamed help.

She picked up immediately and fast walked to your table. 

“Excuse me,” Carol turned up the charm by a hundred percent. “Just need to sit down.”

Carol’s presence turned Joan completely on her head at such a fast rate, you though she needed to sit down. 

“I-I, uh, right,” the older woman stuttered out as your fiance seated herself across from you.

“What looks good, hun?” She asked conversationally.

You hummed. “Pasta or burgers, baby?”

“Ooh, pasta sounds divine.”

Joan stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I’ll-I’ll send a waitress when you’re ready to order.”

As she left, Carol leaned over to you. “What was that all about?”

“That was Joan, she and her husband Don own the diner. I told her that we just moved into their small town; she was really excited to meet my husband.” 

“Oh. Did she give you any flack? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This is a small town, we have to assume the worse.”

Carol reached out and held your hand. “We just got here, let’s give them the benefit of the doubt.”

You smiled and brushed off the weird interaction with Joan. The evening was pleasant, despite the looks that Don and Joan shot you and Carol. You and carol ate quickly, paid the bill, tipped 15%, and left without a word. 

That night, you and Carol set up the bed, and unpacked the toiletry boxes. 

After a quick shower, you went downstairs to the box-filled living room and found Carol sitting cross-legged in front of a long box. 

“So, I found the tree,” she gestured to the fake tree at her feet. “Wanna put it up?”

You groaned, flopping next to her. “It’s almost ten, hun, how do you have the energy?”

“I drank a red bull. Come on, it won’t take us too long!” 

It took a few minutes of convincing, but she managed to sway you into decorating the downstairs with garlands, tinsel, and wreaths. The tree stood tall, broad, and covered in silver and gold. 

It took plenty of effort, but the two of you managed to move the couch from the garage to living room. You flopped there, Carol burrowing into your side and wrapping her arms around your waist. 

“I’ll put the lights up tomorrow,” She whispered into your neck. 

“You don’t have to, Carol. Just ignore what Brenda said.”

“It’s not because of Brenda. I just want to put them up,” Carol replied with faux innocence.

You sat up and looked at her. “We have one million things to do, babe. Why the lights?”

“Don’t worry about it, boo. I’ve got it all under control.”

You shrugged, not having time to worry about it, as Carol began to kiss your jaw, hand sliding under your shirt.

You were pretty busy for the rest of the night.

***

The lights did not surface in your mind until the next morning, when Brenda knocked furiously on your door. 

“Hello?” You wore a bathrobe and had a cup of coffee in your hand.

Brenda was in her usual attire of mom-clothes and heavy makeup. “Hi Y/N! can I show you something?”

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed your arm and pulled you outside. She turned and pointed to your roof. “Look.”

Carol had put the lights up before you had woken up. She had found the white lights, and had expertly hung them along the exterior of the house. To you, they were lovely. 

Brenda was pointing to a string of lights that hung on the garage’s roof. Among the row of white bulbs, was a single, bright red bulb that sparkled brightly.

“It’s red,” you exclaimed, pleased at how smart and wonderful your fiance was.

Brenda pulled a white bulb out from her pocket. “Here, I brought this.”

“Oh! thanks,” you were about to take the light bulb when Carol appeared at the front door. 

“Morning, honey,” Carol hopped down from the porch and joined you and Brenda. “You like the lights?”

“I do, babe, but why the red light?”

Carol looked affronted. “Have you never heard of the Spanish tale of the ‘One Red Candle?”

You suppressed a grin. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, you must have, Brenda,” Carol turned to your neighbour. “Right?”

“Oh! Of course I have,” Brenda stuttered awkwardly. “I just didn’t know you practiced it!”

Carol took your arm and began to steer you away. “We have a lot to do today, Brenda, and we’re sure you’re busy too! Don’t let us keep you!”

Brenda didn’t have a chance to say goodbye, and you closed the door on her face. Pressing your back against the door, you pulled Carol flushed against you.

“So, what’s the legend of the One Red Candle?” you whispered against her mouth.

Carol snorted. “No fucking clue. I made it up on the spot.”

“That red light is going to drive her crazy until the season is over; you know that right?”

“I’m counting on it, baby.”

[inkribbon796]

Forgotten Light Ch. 1: Refractions

Summary: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men . . . couldn’t put Thomas back together again.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

During the several days that the Sides were in Brighton, the Coalition went through their house and every room they tended to frequent in the base with a fine-toothed comb. Trying to find another aura trail, which King, Nate, and Mare were doing the bulk of the aura searching.

The humans came in their civilian attire, not wanting to draw attention to the Sides’ home.

Deep indigos, pastel blues, sparkling reds, and vibrant purples. All the Core Sides were accounted for. There was evidence that Janus and Remus had been over to their home by the faint aura trails.

“So what else are we looking for?” Silver groaned as Jackie came back in from searching places the Sides liked to regularly frequent.

“I’ve got fook-all[1],” Jackie groaned.

“We need evidence of someone living here since March, because that’s when Deceit and the Duke moved out,” King rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. “And Spade doesn’t count. Spade was just spicy Logan with extra steps. He’d have almost the exact same type of aura as him.”

Joan sighed. “Either way this place is clear, what if we don’t find it?”

“Then we hope the legate is dead,” King decided. “Which is probably a good thing. Being trapped for so long without a lot of aura, it would probably make any demon crazy.”

“So what are we supposed ta[2] do?” Jackie groaned. “Put e’erythin’ back an’ pretend nothin’s happened? All yah’ve told us about this thin’ is that it’s dangerous or somethin’.”[3]

“Honestly I’ve never heard of one either,” Mare admitted, coming out of a wall. “I knew there were other types of demons, but I thought it was just a regional language thing.”

“Well different cultures do call you guys different things in different part of the world and that does influence it a little,” King agreed.

“Kid,” Mare crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re an empath just like me, you’re just a small one.”

King frowned, glaring at Mare. “Least I still have my own body, I don’t have to borrow or steal someone else’s.”

Mare looked exceptionally smug, “Just wait until yours starts rusting on you. Bodies don’t last forever. You’ll pick a fight, or someone will pick a fight with you while Daddy’s not watching, and you’ll lose. Or your body will get so useless you’ll have to leave it. It happens to everyone. You think Nate was my first body, or the one your old man’s got was his? Bodies don’t last forever, Dark’s probably overdue a trade out. Being in a broken down body can’t be good but he was always made of nothing but spite and coffee so fuck that body, I guess.”

King just about bared his teeth at the older demon, but he didn’t want anymore of that smug look pointed at him and thankfully Nate intervened.

“Okay, okay,” Nate used his magic to nudge Mare away, trying to break the stand-off and deescalate the two of them. “Let’s focus on this legate, because I was raised with the Legionnaires and I just thought that a legion was like a group of demons like a murder of crows. It’s why the Legionnaires chose their name because they were a powerful force, or at least I thought so.”

“Well that is partially true,” King agreed, searching for something in the magic space he had on the inside of his cape. “A group of demons is called a legion, but it’s also a type of demon for the same reason.”

Then King paused, “Shoot, I forgot it at the base, and we should probably go back to the base, leave this place back for them.”

“Yeah we’ve combed through this place enough,” King sighed and Joan and Silver stayed behind to make sure everything was moved back to where it was supposed to be as everyone headed back to the base.

King went to go find the tome he’d been looking for in his room, and while he was gone Silver and Joan came back into the base.

“I think we got everything back to where it was,” Silver told them. “But I guarantee we missed something.”

Joan rolled their eyes. “Lo’s absolutely gonna[4] know someone went through their house, and if he somehow doesn’t find out I guarantee you Virgil will when he goes through his stuff. He used to live with the Duke after all.”

King walked back in, Lunky clinging to his cape, King smiled and was talking with his child. There was an old book in his hand. “You can stay, but you can’t meet the new demon, he’s not very nice like 할아버지[5] is.”

“You do know you’re talking about Dark, right?” Silver asked.

“Yeah, well, he’s nice to Lunky,” King smiled, before his level leveled onto a more neutral frown as he cracked open the tome. “Alright so on Illinois’s first trips to Egypt he found this book in the bowels of some library.”

“Does it talk about Legates?” Jackie asked, walking over and getting a low warning hiss from Lunky for approaching the spawnling’s father without Lunky’s permission.

“Hey, it’s okay,” King told his child, before looking at the book. “So this book doesn’t directly talk about Legates but it kickstarted this little bout of research he and I did. What this book details is some spawnling that was formed by a lightning strike and began conquering the area. The Old Man’s apparently met this guy too, he likes building stuff apparently.”

“They play poker on the weekends or somethin’[6]?” Jackie tried to joke.

“No, they haven’t spoken in almost 200 years,” King dismissed. “More importantly this research Ills and I did helped us learn a lot about demons. Mainly that demons aren’t categorized by aura or region of the world, but based on how they collect aura. If they can survive being struck by lightning without discorporating, control lightning, or technology; then they’re glitches. If they feed primarily off the emotional state of other humans or demons, then they’re empaths. If they collect aura by manipulating people and making deals: that means they’re deal makers. If they’re attention whores that collect aura from large groups, they’re showmen.”

“Wait, glitches have an affinity fer[7] lightnin’[8]?” Jackie asked. “Since when? Anti doesn’t go outside in lightnin’[8] storms.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” King replied. “Honestly there should be a hell of a lot more glitches with an outright phobia of lightning. Before technology really took off the only way to get a glitch was if one split off from another demon, like what happened with Lunky, or something like lightning strikes them. I’m pretty sure Anti was human once and he’s old enough that he was probably killed by lightning.”

“What?” Jackie shouted.

“Yep,” King popped the end of the world. “Which is why glitches were seen as weaker or rare for centuries, it was hard for them to get a lot of power until the industrial revolution hit. But while we were deep diving in some of the books we found, we found some myths and legends that talked about another type of demon. It was like a hybrid of other demon types. Like a jack-of-all-trades, master of none, kind of demon.”

“So if demons are separated by how they collect aura,” Silver commented. “How do these . . . legates? I assume these types are legates, right? How do they collect aura?”

“Yes,” King confirmed hesitantly, “and that’s the problem. Legates are like an octopus. Eight legs, but one octopus. Something in the process of creating a legate, regardless of what it would have become, doesn’t split properly. If the legate was already a proper demon it would just make a spawnling and both the demon and the spawnling would be fine. And 99.99999% of the time the person just dies instead of making a legate. But it’s that incredibly slim chance where the soul is resilient enough that the energy can’t fully make a proper demon. That energy has to go somewhere so it makes a legate and this pseudo-demon, for lack of a better term, is dangerous because the demon itself can’t collect aura, but it’s legs can.”

“Is that where the Sides come in?” Joan asked.

“Exactly,” King gestured with his arms. “It explains why there are so many. Because when a demon makes a spawnling, multiple spawnlings mean a lot of energy was split off but when a human is turned into a demon there’s barely enough energy to make one demon, let alone seven. So the legate can’t absorb aura properly on its own, making it crazy and hungry because it can’t feed like it’s supposed to. It’s like being lactose intolerant but only being able to eat and drink dairy products. But the arms or extensions of a legate are fully capable of getting aura and bringing it back to the legate in a way it can feed from. The better control a legate has over its arms, the better it can feed. So it quickly gains complete dominion over the arms and turns them into mindless thralls.”

“But all the Sides have some of the most bombastic personalities I’ve ever seen,” Silver reminded, as Nate hummed in agreement, Mare was talking to him in his head.

“Precisely,” King smiled. “They’re not thralls, so that means they’re not giving their legate aura. So the legate is either dead or is kept somewhere that it can’t collect aura and turn the Sides into thralls. If we can verify the legate is actually dead or kill it, then the Sides keep their individuality.”

“So how do we do that?” Nate spoke up. “Especially without hurting the Sides in the process?”

King thought on that for a second. “Well when they get back we should come clean and just talk about the whole thing and maybe they know something they haven’t told us.”

“Okay, what if they don’t?” Mare asked.

“Well they’re non-violent for the most part, so if we leave them be they’re not going to torch the city down,” King shrugged, he tucked the tome into his cape. “Unless there’s something you guys haven’t told me. How did Thomas die exactly? Knowing what all the Sides have in common will tell us a lot about the legate we’re looking for.”

Nate gestured to Joan, who quickly began explaining, “So I found this old camera at an estate sale and brought it to some party. I was messing around with it, dropped it, and Thomas caught it. When that happened, he split apart and that was it, it went that fast.”

“You’re sure nothing happened in-between that time?” King asked.

“Yeah,” Joan answered, hesitant but sure.

“We still have that soul splitter,” Nate supplied helpfully. “We’re pretty sure it used to be Wil’s.”

“What?” King spat.

“Yeah, I’ll go get it,” Nate offered and ran out of the room to go fetch the camera. King at the same time sent Lunky back to Google. The spawnling complained but eventually the two heroes came back with their little missions completed.

“Okay, Logan really likes it for some reason,” Nate informed King when they were both back. By the look on King’s face the young man was thinking along the same lines. “Deceit hates the thing apparently, but none of the others have more than a passing tolerance towards it.”

King picked up the camera and groaned at the pink mustache stained into the side. “Of course it’s Dad’s. His magic always did weird things to stuff to begin with.”

The young man began trying to send his aura at it, to get it to react, but he was met with nothing.

“Okay, Dad, what weird thing did you do to make this?” King grumbled in frustration.

“That’s all I could ever get it to do,” Nate lamented. “I’ve tried popping the film cartridge, but it’s stuck. I think it’s just old.”

Humming a bit in affirmation, King turned it over a bit and set it on the closest table, his fingers drummed pensively. “Okay, it’s Dad’s, there’s gotta be some trick.”

King took out one of the medallion necklaces Dark had made for Lunky and hung it right over the camera.

Still nothing.

Frowning, King channeled his aura through the camera and finally a reaction took place. A mix of King and Dark’s aura in proximity to the remnants of Wil’s that stubbornly held the camera together brought forth another aura. It was distinct and visible: a shimmering, rainbow aura. It lasted for a second but it was there.

In alarm, King flew back from the camera, pulling the necklace away. In an instant the aura disappeared.

King approached and experimentally held just the necklace above before taking it away again and trying to search for an aura trail.

“Oh, you sly bastard!” King realized as he pulled out the very dagger that had caused part of his soul to split off and create Lunky. He’d kept it because he was certainly not letting the Jims get their hands on the knife again. “I fucking found you!”

King tried to drive the soul splitter into the camera and some protective spell fanned out to break the soul splitter and bruised King’s hand.

At first King thought his hand had been broken or fractured, but as the pain subdued to a dull, aching throb, he began trying to move it and realized that at worst it had bruised his bone.

“Fucking shit!” King hissed as Silver ran over to him. The force of the barrier spell and King’s attempted blow had caused the table to break and the camera to fall to the ground, undamaged by the fall.

Nanites surged out of some unseen compartment in the camera and created a projection disk. There was a whirl and a hum, before a holographic symbol hovering in the air. It was a blackened symbol of three heads and dozens of arms surrounding it, the only words there were: “Hecatoncheires Projects Presents:”

The symbol lasted for a second before the projection showed an image of future Logan, Spade, standing in front of them.

Spade’s projection smiled at them and he took a deep breath before he greeted them, “Heroes.”

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. Fuck-all

2. to

3. Put everything back and pretend nothing’s happened? All you’ve told us about this thing is that it’s dangerous or something

4. going to

5. Grandfather; Korean. Specifically the informal way to address your paternal grandfather. Phonically read as “halabeoji”

6. something

7. for

8. lightning

[notveryglittery]

we could fall through december

summary: winter made everything so slow. roman didn’t think it fair.  ship: romantic roceit (roman/deceit) / wc: 1,600 warnings: sympathetic deceit, self-doubt/hatred, seasonal affective disorder, emotional outburst. let me know if i need to add anything. a/n: first fic of 2020 and it’s a gift!! feels good, feels organic. hope you like this, @rusted-but-golden <3 

read on ao3 | @fandersfic-roceit​

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  — 

Roman wondered what it was keeping him from getting out of bed.

Was it the “loss of interest?” Maybe it was the “sleep deprivation.” It just as well could have been the “lack of concentration.” Knowing his luck, it was all of the above. It was every symptom Google had listed, the apathy and the mood swings and the fatigue. He had so many things to do. There was plenty of time to do them. It was barely even noon yet which meant he had the entire day to finish the projects he’d started…

The clock flashed mockingly at him, reading 3:27. The projects he’d started had been ages ago. He couldn’t remember the last time he had picked them up. He wasn’t even sure what the date was.

Roman rolled over, burying his face into his pillow. It made breathing unnecessarily difficult. Kind of like how everything else was unnecessarily difficult. Like, why couldn’t he just kick the blankets off and get his feet on the ground? He was a prince! He was a knight! He was tough, self-assured, resilient! He had faced monsters larger than this. He faced blows to his ego like this daily.

Why did the lack of sunshine make so much of a difference?

Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of sunshine in his life already! Patton himself might as well have counted as one’s regular dose of vitamin D. Sometimes, Roman was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of Virgil’s smile or to hear a rare but treasured laugh from Logan. Those alone ought to have been enough to combat any gloomy day.

Finally lifting his head, Roman narrowed his eyes, squinting out the window. Not to mention, Thomas lived in Florida! The Mindscape should have reflected that. They barely had winter! It was more like extended fall. It didn’t even snow or rain (save for their consistent 3pm storm that lasted no more than an hour every day). Sure, the sun was obscured often by cloud cover but… well, it was still there! He had no excuse to be all mopey and sluggish just because the temperature had dropped.

…

Maybe he ought to just take a nap. Roman blinked, hard, and released a frustrated groan. With more effort than he’d care to admit, he lifted his arm and scrubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes, which had, quite rudely, begun to burn suddenly with tears. This was so stupid! Forcing himself to sit up felt like a herculean task, but he shoved the covers away and reached blindly for his bedside table. Instead of grabbing a tissue, though, his uncoordinated movements instead just knocked the box of Kleenex to the floor.

“Oh, come on!” He snapped, choking back a sob.

A knock sounded at the door.

“I’m busy,” he called back, without hesitation.

“You’re lying,” responded the visitor.

Roman muttered a curse under his breath. Any other day, he’d be delighted to see his beloved. As it were, he’d been avoiding Deceit just as much as he’d been avoiding everyone else. Was it a good idea to isolate himself when there was a figurative (might as well have been literal) storm cloud hovering over his head? Of course not. Not like he ever had any good ideas to begin with, anyway.

“Roman,” Deceit purred from the other side of the door.

“Fine, fine,” Roman sighed, unlocking the door with a halfhearted snap of his fingers. “Come in, then.”

At least Deceit’s arrival had distracted him from crying any more. Running a hand through his hair to try and tame his bedhead, Roman watched as Deceit let himself in. He closed the door gently behind him. He looked as exquisite as always, not a hair or thread out of place. He was carrying two containers.

“Move over,” Deceit said, seating himself on the mattress without waiting.

He set the tupperware down and turned to Roman. His eyes scanned over Roman’s face. A lot of good his poker face did him when Roman was intimately aware of every one of Deceit’s expressions and facial tics by now.

“Hi,” Deceit said softly.

“Hey,” Roman replied, muted.

Roman shifted, pulling the sheets more tightly around his waist. God, he hated winter. It was so cold. He didn’t even have the energy to conjure a space heater or electric blankets.

“Brought you lunch,” Deceit offered, picking one of the meals up and prying the lid off.

The container was full of grilled cheese sandwiches, cut into hearts. Roman looked at Deceit, unable to resist grinning a little bit.

“Patton insisted on helping,” Deceit grumbled.

Roman reached for the other and found it filled with tomato bisque. It was warm in his hands. Without a care in the world, he lifted the bowl to his mouth and drank the soup straight from it. His arms ached doing so but damn if it didn’t taste good.

“There are spoons, you know!” Deceit said, scowling.

Roman licked his lips. “Sorry.”

They ate in relative silence after that. Sometimes they took turns dipping the grilled cheeses into the soup. At one point, Roman shyly held up one of his half-eaten heart shaped sandwiches and Deceit rolled his eyes as he held his own half up against Roman’s. Deceit would talk occasionally; about Virgil and Patton taking up the living room for a blanket fort that no one else was allowed in; about Thomas and Joan’s latest additions to Reasons to Smile; about the debate he and Logan had recently regarding whether or not Pluto was a planet.

“Did he end it with viva la Pluto, fuck you?” Roman asked, reaching forward to… His fingers twitched and he pulled back, looking away.

“Of course he did,” Deceit answered. He waved a hand and the containers disappeared. A heated blanket appeared in their place. “Come here, then.”

Roman hesitated. Deceit twirled a finger in the air, changing into comfy loungewear. The next movement was directed at Roman, whose pajamas were replaced with clean ones that smelled just slightly of lavender. Deceit shoved the blanket into Roman’s lap.

God, again with the stupid tears—

“Shh,” Deceit hushed him, hands coming up to cradle Roman’s face gently. “I know. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t,” Roman croaked, allowing himself to curl his fingers around one of Deceit’s wrists. “I’m supposed to be str… stronger than this.”

“Is Patton weak when he has his Days?”

“Of course not,” Roman defended, vehemently.

“Surely, Virgil is when he panics over the tiniest of things.”

“He isn't!”

“Then why, Roman, would you think yourself weak for this?”

“It’s just a lack of sunlight,” Roman scoffed, dropping his hand to his lap, where he proceeded to pick at his chipped nail polish. He tried to turn away, tried to break their locked gaze. He was pathetic enough without having to see Deceit’s pitying expression.

“Ro,” Deceit interrupted those thoughts, tone scolding. He let Roman go, knowing better than to keep his hold when it wasn’t wanted. “Logan’s with Thomas right now but don’t think for a second that I won’t call him here if that’s what it takes.”

“We’re not going to bother him with this—”

“Bother?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Actually, I don’t,” Deceit disagreed, sneering. He hated when it came to that. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“The first result for "things people also ask" when you search for seasonal affective disorder is whether or not it’s real,” Roman snapped. “And I’m not real, not technically, so how can something like seasonal fucking depression affect me!”

Roman gestured towards the floor to ceiling windows that comprised one wall of his room. The sky was bright blue. “Even if it did, I have complete control over the Fantasy Realm. I could just pop in for a few hours of basking in the sunshine and I’d be all better! I can’t even do that, though!”

“Dearheart, you know vitamin D in the Fantasy Realm would work just as well as hugs and food do.” Deceit tried not to think about the last time Roman had forgotten this. It’d been… frightening, to say the least.

“They literally have lamps that do the same thing but go off I guess.”

“Alright.” Deceit said abruptly.

He grabbed the heated blanket and draped it over Roman’s shoulders. Then, with perhaps more force than necessary, he pushed Roman back down onto the pillows.

“Hey!” Roman shouted, not appreciating being manhandled, thank you very much.

Deceit didn’t answer and instead just sprawled himself on top of Roman’s chest. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but whenever you start to talk bad about yourself, one of the reasons is because you’re touch-starved.”

“I am not—!” Roman would have finished his sentence if Deceit hadn’t buried a hand into his hair and scraped his nails along his scalp. Goosebumps erupted on his arms and at the back of his neck. “That…” Roman’s eyes slid shut. “That is cheating.”

“We’re not done talking about this,” Deceit promised, carding his fingers through Roman’s locks. “Right now, though, I think you could just use some physical affection and a nap.”

“I’m…” Roman sighed, melting under Deceit’s gentle touches.

“Hmm?” Deceit hummed, shifting so that he was a bit more comfortable and so that Roman could still breathe easily. “What is it, my articulate amor?”

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Deceit insisted, leaning up just close enough to press a kiss to Roman’s jaw. He tucked his face into the crook of Roman’s neck.

“... Okay,” Roman agreed haltingly. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you, your highness. Rest now.”

Whatever Roman had wanted to say was overtaken by a huge yawn. He shuffled as best he could further under the blankets, warmth wrapped around his shoulders and laid reassuringly on top of him. The idea of returning to this discussion scared him more than he thought it ought to but… He supposed he could work through it if he had someone so secure and patient like Deceit to help him.

[boleyn-falcon]

LiW week day 3- Maggie!

hehehe have a slightly angsty fic... as a treat

and yes the title of the fic is refrencing Bessie buuuut you’ll see why, i promise its abt Maggie heheh >:}

Wordcount - 1947

Triggers - slight blood and injury

@ladiesinwaitingweek​

Tour universe!

                                        Pop goes the Bassist...

      The Theatre in Glasgow was almost dead silent, with the exception of the plucking of bass strings and soft notes of a keyboard. The Ladies in Waiting arrived early to try and set up before the queens so they could start warmups a bit earlier than usual. Without the Queens’ normally loud laughter and voices filling the air, it was peaceful for Bessie and Joan to practice and set up in peace. The two light-haired musicians were enjoying the low energy of the theatre, Maria was out on a walk so there were no loud drums and Maggie was… nowhere to be seen? They had seen her get out of Joan’s car when they arrived, hell they even saw her enter the theatre and put her stuff down, but after that she just dispersed without a word. At least that what they thought until a loud bang erupted from the door by the stage, to reveal the guitarist with her hands behind her back.

    “You guys won’t believe what I found in a store down the street!”, The brunette moved her hands out in front of her to reveal a black hockey stick and a puck. She walked forward just enough to make it onto the stage but was stopped by a justifiably concerned pianist. “Maggie it’s cool and all but why? And why would you bring them up here, that’s just a bad idea waiting to happen..”, the shorter woman scoffed and gave an offended look and moved past her to the center of the stage, “C’mon Snowy-Joey it’ll be fine, I won’t do anything stupid I promise! When have I ever done something dumb on the job?”.  Joan just gave a defeated look and stepped to the side, “Well other than the basketball incident with Cleves, the volleyball net fiasco with Cathy, and-”, the pianist was cut off with a groan, “Well.. okay fine you can have the stick and puck up here for now, but don’t do anything that could cause trouble, please?”, Maggie just gave a small nod and a sly grin in response. “O-oh Mags! Maybe after the shows you could prac-”, the silver-haired Bassist was cut off by a laugh, “Oh dear, dear Bee-Bear… Why would i need to practice? It looks easy enough on TV, all you gotta do is hit the puck as hard as possible, observe!”

    Maggie placed the puck on the stage floor about 2 feet in front of her. She stood with her back facing where an audience would be watching and aimed her body to the left wall of the stage. She separates her feet and bends her knees, looking oddly concentrated. The stick is firmly grasped with both hands and its toe on the ground parallel from the black disk. Like an amateur golf player, the guitarist lifted the stick’s heal behind her head, and swung at the puck with all her might. “Wait Maggie I said-”, before Joan could finish, the rubber puck flew across the stage at what seemed to be the speed of light. It hit the top of the left wall with a loud cracking noise and ricocheted off the surface with near the same speed. Before anyone could move or say anything, the runaway rubber puck found its way to the side of the silver-haired unit of a bassist with a loud smack, followed by the sound of Bessie’s body hitting the ground with a thud.

         Maggie quickly dropped the stick and ran towards the unconscious woman before Joan could even start to mutter a ‘wait-’. She dropped to her knees beside her taller friend and turned her over, followed by Joan, obviously just as worried. “Shit shit SHIT!”, Maggie began to shake Bessie’s limp body vigorously before Joan grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands off of her limp bandmate, “Shaking her like that won’t fix anything Maggie! I told you to be careful and not do anything stupid!”. Joan didn’t necessarily sound angry, just panicked, disappointed, and even a confused, all the brunette woman could muster was a mixture of ‘I’s and ‘Um’s before she just gave up. “Well okay as long as Mari-”  “What in the Lord’s name is going on?!”  “Uh oh..”, Maggie and Joan turned to see a very angry looking Maria with a disapproving look plastered across her face. The drummer gave Maggie a side glare that basically just said, ‘you have five seconds to explain what you did before I rip you a new one’. Maggie stood up and walked over to Maria, meeting her eye to eye, “Okay so bought some hockey stuff and I wanted to prove I didn’t need practice to use it well and I kinda hit the puck so hard it flew off the wall and hit Bessie square in the side of the head…”, Maria’s nose started to flare and she was about to say something but Maggie continued, “I-I didn’t mean to hit her I swear! It was an accident! She’ll probably just wake up in a few minutes, as long as we don’t tell the Queens we’ll be fi-”  “Oh no young lady, not ‘we’ YOU, and since all you seem to care about is saving your own tail and less about our friend, you’re going to stay here and make sure she’s okay while me and Joan,” Maria strides over to Joan and grabs her by her frail arm, “are going to go have some coffee down the street. This is your chance to learn some responsibility for your actions”. Maria stomped off the stage with Joan still in her grasp, the pale girl could only turn her head and mouth a quick ‘good luck’ before they were out the door, leaving Maggie with a blacked-out Bessie, still laying on the floor by her bass.

   Maggie had no idea what she had gotten herself into. The first thing she could think to do was get Bessie off the stage and into a dressing room. Walking back over to the bassist, she stopped and grabbed Bessie’s limp forearm and started to drag. After about ten seconds of dragging, she dropped the arm, accidentally on Bessie’s face, and needed a better way of moving her. “Okay Bess we got this”, she leaned down and grabbed Bessie’s hips, and throwing her upper half over Maggie’s should like a sack of potatoes. The guitarist may be short, but she had some muscle, she’s able to lift things double her size and weight but this ability to having to lift all the band’s heavy equipment, apparently know even unconscious bass players. She jumped off the side of the stage and made her way towards the dressing rooms, deciding just to go to the first one she found. Opening door after door, she finally found a dressing room, and thankfully it even had a tiny grey sofa in the corner. Maggie dropped her friend on the sofa and stood back to get a better look. It had already been maybe ten minutes since she got knocked out cold and she didn’t show any signs of waking up soon, Maggie was starting to worry. “Okay okay Google prolly knows if this is normal or not, I bet this is all okay, yep Kathrine totally won’t murder me for this!”, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and began to type like there was no tomorrow, ‘how long do people normally stay knocked out for?’. She felt her heart sink slightly when she got her answer, it was only at most supposed to last five too ten minutes at most. She tried to calm down slightly and decided maybe getting Bessie’s hairband off might help? The smaller woman’s hand reached over and took the black band off but stopped once it was off, Bessie’s silver hair that was once hidden by the hairband...was stained red.

       Maggie dropped the hairband and started to shake. It may not have been the most blood, it was easily covered by the band, but it was enough to send the guitarist into a new level of panic. Seeing the crimson spot in her friend’s hair threw all of Maggie’s rationality and sense of reality out the door. She rushed to her unmoving bandmate’s side in an instant, grabbing her shoulders and trying to hold her upper half up slightly. Her shaking hand touched the spot of red in Bessie’s silver hair, she moved the hair to the side to see a small cut in her scalp. ‘Oh god oh god what have I done?!’ the thoughts screamed in her brain, it was almost as loud as the beating of her heart in her ears. All mind just kept racing and racing, screaming things over and over, ‘you killed her’ ‘this is your fault’ ‘Maria was right, your selfishness just killed Bessie’ ‘you could have prevented this, you know what this is? Its Anne… all over again, but this time the blood really is on your hands’. The last statement was the breaking point, she broke down. Her gross sobs began to rock her body, grabbing Bessie body she buried her head into her bandmate’s chest, her sobs started to even sound like muffled screaming. “God Bessie I’m so sorry!”, she stopped to take a shaky breath and to let out another sob, “Bessie I’m sorry! I should have listened...God your dead and its MY FAULT!”, those last two words became a scream that echoed throughout the backstage area. Maggie didn’t have the strength to continue forming sentences and just repeated pained ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘Please come back’s. The ocean eyed woman was so out of it, she didn’t even notice the arms that wrapped themselves around her body.

 “Calm down Little Pine Marten, calm down”, the now conscious woman began to shush the sobbing woman clinging to her. Maggie stiffened and pulled back, still crying. “You...You- your not-”, Bessie chuckled slightly and sat up fully, “Of course I’m not dead you idiot! Why in the world would you think that?”. The guitarist shushed slightly and cast her eyes at the ground, not daring to look at her very much alive friend in the eyes, “Do you remember what happened..?”, Bessie gave a small nod and waited for Maggie to continue, “Because I… I-I hit you with th-the puck and you hit the ground...It’s been over ten minutes and you-you weren’t waking up and… I took your hairband off and you were b-b-ble-”, Maggie’s own sobs cut her off. Bessie just gave her a warm smile and pulled maggie back into a hug. “And you c-could have d-died and it would have been because of ME!”, the small shriek that accompanied that last word made the silver-haired woman’s heartbreak. She pulled the smaller woman off of her and tilted her head up to meet her eyes, “Margret Lee listen to me”, Bessie’s smile made it obvious that she wasn’t mad but Maggie was anxious anyway, “Did you make a stupid decision? Yes, but everyone does. Yea it got me hurt but look I’m fine see? Trust me I’m nowhere near dead, and I’m not mad, I could never be mad at you Mags. Just next time, think before you act okay? So nothing like this happens again, It’s just a lesson to be learned”, the bassist finished her lecture with one last hug. Maggie could only cry more, but this time it was a mix of leftover guilt and gratitude, gratitude that her friend was okay and that she had learned something. She learned she really should think about others, but she also learned that her friends love her… no matter what.

here have a cursed edit i made while in the middle of writing this!

[ifeellikeameowster]

E.V.O.L Chapter 3- Living Dead

Chapter Summary: After a bit of a rough morning, Virgil decides to visit the grave of his long dead best friend... Meanwhile, Patton has finally graduated and is ready to take on his first assignment as a newly appointed cupid!

Warnings: Beginnings of Yandere like behavior, stalking, watching other’s without them knowing, wounds, stabbing, blood.

Pairings: One-sided moxiety.

Word Count: 4k+

Chapter followed by Author’s Note then Tag List under the read more:

Everyday I feel the same.

Stuck, and I can never change.

Sucked into a black balloon.

Spat into an empty room.

The next day Virgil found himself waking before even the roosters themselves would have crowed.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and cursing his wishy washy biological clock, he wondered if it was too early to grab a bite of breakfast. He had missed dinner the previous day, after all, having been too tired from being forced to socialize for so long with someone so new. His parents would probably understand if they caught him. They always did.

He shrugged and slung one of his lighter weighted blankets over his shoulders before taking a few shaky steps away from his bed. His legs felt like jello, making it tempting to just go back to the safety of his little nest and spend all day inside of his room. But the obnoxious rumbling of his ungrateful stomach made that nearly impossible. So to the kitchen it was instead.

Virge tried his best not to step on any creaky floorboards on his way out of his room and down the stairs. If his parents weren’t already awake, then he certainly didn’t want to be the loud, fumbling asshole that actually woke them up. Heaven knows they deserved all the rest they could get. They did so much for him. And for the whole neighborhood, for that matter.

Wonder if there’s any of those blueberry bagels left. He pondered as he descended the final step.

He went past the living room and into the kitchen, where upon after he entered, Virgil was immediately met with his answer.

“You’re up early, V.” Talyn said around a mouthful of their buttery bagel, “Can’t sleep?”

“More like slept too much.” Virgil corrected as he joined them at the breakfast bar.

Talyn was a Banshee, a wailing ghost that had the ability to warn others of approaching death.Though, they usually used their glorious screeching voice for the screamo parts of their band’s songs instead. Once in a blue moon however, especially back when Virgil had done something particularly rebellious when he was a teenager, he had had the pleasure of witnessing firsthand the more negative side to their voice. Between his maddy’s booming voice and the sad puppy dog eyes his pops had sent his way-it was easy to see why his version of a ‘rebellious phase’ had been cut short. 

“I’d chastise you for your poor sleeping habits but I’m honestly not one to speak myself.”

“You’re a ghost, you don’t even need to sleep.”

“And yet here we are.” They waved the hand holding the bagel, sending some crumbs flying, “With me taking afternoon naps and staying up all night like a heathen.”

“God, same.”

“We’ve rubbed off on you too much, little one.” Talyn chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Me and Joan. Why don’t you take after your papa more too?”

“Pops is too sunshiney for me, maddy. I’m half convinced he’s made of literal sunbeams at this point.” Virgil sneered out with a fond undertone as he gently lathered butter on his own bagel, “I’m more of a punk moonchild, ya’ know?”

Maddy was the affectionate nickname he had given Talyn as a kid. He was pleased to later find out that, unlike with dammy, other kids sometimes used maddy for their nonbinary parents too.

His maddy chuckled at that, patted his shoulder, then returned to devouring their own breakfast. They both sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a while as they finished up their food and took in the morning sights through the wide kitchen window. Then as the birds started up their autumn songs and the sun started it’s slow trek over the horizon, they both got up to put away their trash and tidy their mess. As he was putting his blanket over the couch for later cuddling-while-watching-tv purposes, Virgil’s eyes unfortunately happened to land on the calendar hanging next to the entryway. The sight of a certain circled reminder of a date he had been trying to forget caused a past pain to resurface just as hot and stabbing as the first time it had ever appeared in his heart.

He reentered the kitchen with a familiar, haunting grimace. Talyn sent him a fleeting confused look before it morphed into one of understanding instead.

“It’s next week, isn’t it?” They breathed softly, “The anniversary.” Their tone held an unnecessary weight of guilt. For even though they were a Banshee, they had not been able to foresee that death. The most important one. The one that had hurt their child so much at such a young age.

“Yeah,” Virgil choked out, tears threatening to brim his eyes, “If...I’m being honest...I’m not sure if I can make it, this year.”

“Well maybe…” They bit their lip and shifted on their feet nervously, “Maybe you can just go now? It might be less pressure, if it’s not the day of.”

“I-I don’t know, maddy. I’m still kind of worn out from yesterday.”

“Ah, the matchmaker meeting. I almost forgot about that.” Talyn moved to lean back on the counter, “How did that go?”

Virge sucked in a breath, blinked away the wetness of his eyes, and thanked whatever higher power may be for the change of topic. “Terrible, I hate socializing. Also it felt like I was being hounded by a teacher with how many questions I was being asked.”

“He needs to ask questions, dear. How else would he know what you like?” They sent him a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite meet their eyes. The mood of the room was still soured by the date hanging ominously on the wall. Taunting them both with it’s ever approaching red circle.

“What I would like is to not have to go to these meetings at all.” Virgil whined. He hopped up to sit cross legged on the countertop beside his maddy. “Why’d you and dammy even talk to him anyways? I thought pops was just going through one of his romance craze phases again, but…”

“But, we all agreed it’s what’s best for you. It’s not healthy to only ever hang out with your family. You need to spread your wings, sweet little baby boy.”

“Ew, baby talk.” Virgil mimed throwing up before crossing his arms and pouting. “Why’s it gotta be some stupid dramatically set up romcom though? Can’t I just go to an online group chat for depressed-emos-anonymous or something?”

Talyn did a laugh somewhere between a giggle and a chortle at that. They playfully swiped at his shoulder. “No, you idiot. Just listen to your parents, okay? It’s time. Way past time, actually…”

“Time to what? Get some?”

“Find someone to love. Someone to...give your feelings too.”

“I give mushy lovey dovey stuff to y’all all the time!”

“Not like that, V. To…” They tapped a frustrated rhythm onto the countertop with their long, pointed nails. “To obsess over. To be attracted to and fawn over. Stuff like that.”

“To bone.”

“Virgil!”

“What? That’s the only difference, ain’t it?” He sighed as he leaned over to place his head on their shoulder. “Why can’t platonic love be enough? I've been doing just fine with just that…”

“Honey…” They let out a sigh of their own before running a reassuring hand through his hair. “That may have been enough until now, but trust me you need this.” The soothing touch of their petting almost calmed  him, until- “We need this.” They ended in a strained whisper, yet unfortunately still loud enough for him to hear.

Virgil jolted away from Talyn and off the counter as if he’d been burned. “What? You’re...You’re all trying to pawn me off or something? Finally tired of me being a fucking mooch?”

“No, no- Little one, that’s not what I-”

“Well if I’m such a leech, maybe I will go hang out in the graveyard with the rest of the rotten worms.”

The tears that had pricked at his eyes earlier decided to return, yet once more he held back the flow of the damn. His eyes reddened with the strain of the repression. Still, he refused to cry around others. Weakness was an ugly shade of color to wear. He wanted to toss out all of his flaws from the closet of his inner self and go shopping for better traits. But maybe, he couldn’t help but think...he was the one that needed to be tossed out right along with them.

Got bubble wrap around my heart.

Waiting for my life to start.

But everyday it never comes.

Permanently at square one.

“Tell the others I’ll be at the church.” He snapped instead as he rounded the corner and stomped up the stairs. He no longer cared if he woke anyone else up. His body was brimming with aggravated energy and his mind was swirling with all the possible negative implications of those few simple whispered words.

The day had barely begun and he already had a massive headache.

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

After having haphazardly thrown on the nearest clean clothes he could find and all but running out of his house and into the nearly empty street, save for a lone old maid that was bird watching on a nearby bench, he began to make his way over to the cemetery.

On his way there he stopped by Fauna's Florals to pick up a small bouquet of soft and pale yellow roses, the flower of friendship, because that's what he had been to him- the truest friend he would probably ever have. Besides his family, of course, though they were kind of obligated to hang out with him. And he was beginning to wonder if even that reliable, familial obligation had started outstaying it’s welcome.

Miss Fauna, having noticed his red rimmed eyes, had given him a sympathetic smile and a pat on his hand as she handed over the bouquet. He shied away from the unwanted contact and thanked her in a small voice. It was the loudest one he could muster at the time.

When it's late at night-ight,

I'm so dissatisfied-ied.

The weight of an empty life-ife,

Will lessen in the moonlight.

In the light,

In the light,-light,-light.

Shooting Star Cemetery was luckily located in the next street over, making it an easy and short walk. Yet not nearly a long enough a walk to clear his head any from the raging storm it currently housed inside. The graves were all well kept and neatly aligned. The landscaping was done with care and sheer professionalism. The overall atmosphere was more bright and welcoming than one would expect a place housing the dead could ever be.

Virgil moved past the groundskeeper with quick steps, not wanting to have to engage in any conversation with the man whose smile always seemed to stretch too far over his face and whose eyes appeared to linger on his form for too long. Especially not today of all days. He thought as the conversation from earlier resurfaced in his mind. Fresh and unwanted.

His feet took him to his destination almost on autopilot. He had been visiting this particular grave at least once a year for almost seventeen years now. Of course it would be practically hardwired into his system at this point.

“Hey, buddy.” He called out wearily as he approached. Virge leaned over to place the bouquet of yellow roses directly in front of the ivory gravestone before stepping back to sit on the grass across from it.

The stone was the lightest of the ones in its row, almost basking it in an ethereal spotlight. The carvings of angels, ribbons, and roses around it’s surface only accentuated the holy glow. In the dead center, carved in looping and elegant cursive writing, was the epitaph.

It read,

“Patton Sangster:

A young Cherub bright and fair,

Taken from this world too soon.

Now he is way up there,

Dancing between the Sun and the Moon.”

Definitely more fancy and vague than most of the epitaphs around here. Virgil mused, Then again Mrs. Songster was always the poetic dreamer type.

While on the other hand, if he had a gravestone, it would probably say something like "Here lies Virgil Spurling: What an idiot" or "Virgil Spurling: Died of Depression and General Dumbassery".

He let out a long sigh and curled his legs underneath him while crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had, Pat.” He began, “I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy, who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual. And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

He started waving his arms around to accentuate his ranting, ”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Now, in the sanctum of this empty cemetery and the equally emptily promised presence of his only friend, he finally let the tears fall quietly and slowly down his ever reddening cheeks. “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

“I just wish you were still here.” He hissed into the morning air as he closed his eyes and let his eyes finish emptying themselves so he could hopefully return home with them dry and pretend that they had never been crying in the first place.

From several yards away the groundskeeper stole glances at the strange visitor as he worked his usual surveyal of the grounds. However, his gleaming, unwelcome eyes were not the only pair that happened to be following Virgil that day.

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

Patton Sangster, newly appointed cupid under Eros, had just finished the last of his angelic training and was lined up with the rest of the lucky graduates about to receive their first heavenly assignments.

Finally! He cheered in his head. A chance to prove that all of his training wasn't for nothing. He may be light hearted, but he certainly wouldn't take his heavenly duties lightly. He would prove without a doubt that being soft hearted didn’t mean he was weak. Far from it in fact. He considered the overflowing love he had in his heart to be his greatest and most cherished source of strength.

Little did the little cupid know just yet, but that unbridled and passionate love of others would soon be his very downfall.

I'm living dead, dead, dead, dead.

Only alive-live-live-live.

When I pretend-tend-tend-tend.

That I have died, died, died, died, died, died.

An elder, more experienced cupid passed back and forth in front of the recruits with a golden clipboard they had summoned. Odiel, patron cupid of dark love ballads, was surprisingly the one giving the assignments to the newbies this year. He listed off each angel and their assignment with a resigned sigh and dramatic flip of the page. He went through many graduates before finally getting to Patton, which had caused the poor angel to bounce nervously on his feet.

"Patton Sangster?"

"Yes, that's me!" He nodded eagerly with a dazzling grin.

"Hm." His superior clicked his tongue before looking at his clipboard. "No official angel name given yet. No patron title earned yet."

Patton's eager expression flickered, a brief frown gracing his features before they turned back into his patton-ted steadfast smile.

"We'll just assign you to your old hometown during life, then. And see where it goes from there."

Patton gasped, bringing his hands up to cup his face. "Heartwish City?!"

Odiel pauses for a moment to check another page on their clipboard. "...Yes."

"Yay! Oh, I can't wait to see everyone again! And help them out!"

"Mhmm. Well, you will have to wait a bit more. There's still orientation to get through."

"Oh, of course." His smile turns more nervous, "Yes, sir."

And with that, the rest of the graduates were assigned before they all headed over to the orientation stadium.

The clouds are thicker and fluffier around the stadium, which is covered in red, pink, and white decorations and gold trimmings. Eros himself stands on a stage floating gently above them. Some of his more well known cupids fly  beside him and his effervescent presence. They give the awaiting crowd reminders of what-to-do's and what-not-to-do's before Eros finally speaks.

"Today is the day you truly become cupids. Go forth and spread love, devotion and admiration wherever you may fly to. Prove your loyalty both to me and to my almighty mother Aphrodite. Be the best angel you can be." He intones in a booming voice accompanied by grand hand gestures. He then bows his head toward the crowd of new cupids in respect and waves them off, officially dismissing them to their new posts.

Patton, having been absolutely jittery with excitement throughout the whole orientation, immediately flaps his small, pink and blue hummingbird like wings and takes off into the early morning sky.

His flight time is shortened by both his familiarity with the destination and his newly appointed status. So much so that to any outside spectator, he would have arrived there in the bat of an eyelash.

As he glided over his old town, he spotted several people he once new. Miss Fauna was putting up a new display in front of her flower shop. Tia and Ana were putting up an ad for their speciality tea of the day. Dr Picani was leaving the Blue Fairy Therapy building while glancing at his watch. And many, many more lovely and well missed faces.

But the one he had missed most of all was currently over at the Shooting Star Cemetery, sitting criss-crossed applesauce right in front of his grave.

Sure, he hadn't seen them in over seventeen years, not since their childhood together. But he would be able to recognize that pale face and protective spirit anywhere! This was his best friend we were talking about, after all. And Patton never took his friendships lightly. So he did a spiraling turn in the air to change directions for this newfound destination. He could worry about his other duties later, he had a dear friend to visit!

He hovered over the cemetery like an excited bee hovering over a group of flowers, staying close to the sparse clouds strewn about the glorious sunrise. Not only had Virgil grown up healthily, but he had even remembered him! And was currently paying respects to his grave, apparently. He leaned forward and focused his hearing on the sounds happening down below him.

"You wouldn't believe the week I've had, Pat." Oh dear, what could have happened? Is whatever it was the reason he was visiting? "I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

What could they have possibly done? Patton remembered Virgil's parents, three queer platonic partners who had always adored their son. They were loved by the whole neighborhood and Patton himself had also enjoyed their company whenever he had visited Virgil's house for playdates and sleepovers. He couldn't imagine them ever doing anything to harm their beloved child! But, if they had hurt Virgil somehow…

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy," Ohhh! A matchmaker, huh? Virgie really had grown up! It seemed like just yesterday the two of them were talking about the other boys possibly having cooties during recess. "Who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual." Well that didn't seem very nice of whoever this matchmaker fellow was. Patton would never think of his assignments as losers...everyone was equally deserving of love after all!

"And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?” Wait just a minute...Matchmaker...Wings...Patton was a cupid now! Duh. The solution was obvious!

Patton puffed up his chest and fluttered his wings excitedly. He could be Virgil's new, better matchmaker. And nothing would make Pat more happy than having his childhood friend being his first assignment as an official cupid. It was all falling into place so well, almost like destiny! But Virgil was talking again now, so Patton tuned back in.

”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Ahhh, this was all Virgie's anxiety getting to him again. He had always been a worrywart, even back when they were kids. He guessed some things never changed, not even when it had been so many years. Back then, Patton had always tried to ease his worries and be the most supportive friend he could be. But even at his best and most empathetic, he had been far too young to quite comprehend the full depths of Virgil's emotions.

He looked back at Virgil only to find tears running down his cheeks now, marring his dark eyeshadow. Oh dear sweet Aphrodite- he was crying! “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

Highschool? What had happened in high school? Did someone hurt his dearest friend while he wasn't there to protect him? Patton leaned even more forward and gripped the clouds nervously.

“I just wish you were still here.”

Patton froze. Only holy magic and his grip on the clouds keeping him in the air.

I lay back in a glittering mist,

And I, I think of all the men I, I could have kissed.

I haven't lived my life, I haven't lived love,

It's just a bird's eye view from, from up above.

A part of him wished he was still there too. And that same part of him wished he had been there beside Virgil through it all. Had been there in highschool to prevent whatever it was that had hurt his Virgie. Had been there to tell that rude matchmaker off for him. Had been there to give him a lesson in proper etiquette and respect towards his clients. Had been there to help his parents find a better matchmaker. And even to help Virgil pick only the best partner for a great guy like him.

He released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in the first place. But he was here now! And he could help him now!

Now filled to the brim with determination- He hurriedly fumbled to summon his bow and quiver, which he had been storing in his Grace, and pulled out a red romantic arrow from the bag. In his haste, however, he had nicked the side of his arm with the tip of it. He paused to look at the offending wound, wondering if a nick was considered the same thing as a pierce. It wasn't, right? He didn't remember them saying anything about scratches while in the heavenly academy. Oh well, it was probably nothing to worry about! It hadn't come anywhere near his heart, after all.

Besides, Patton had much more pressing matters to attend to. And a heart that needed a connection only he could create was waiting for him. A connection that would transcend the very heavens themselves! Pat would definitely find Virgil a beloved partner that could kiss his many worries away. Many, many kisses. Kisses for that kissable mouth...and soothing voice...and soft looking cheeks…and pale, elegant hands...

Patton shook his head furiously to rid himself of those lucrative thoughts. Sure, Virgil had grown up handsomely, yeah. But this was Patton's best friend he was talking about! How could he be thinking such scandalous and traitorous things? Besides, he had chosen Virgil for his very first assignment. He had to be more professional than that! He had to prove himself a worthy cupid both to Eros himself and to his fellow angels.

He moved to expertly draw his bow, with the same arrow that had previously drawn his blood, poised in the direction of the huddled figure below him. Just as he was about to finally fire, however…He heard it.

"Patton." Just a whisper. A whimper through tears. Just a mumble amidst other unintelligible cries of sorrow.

And yet it felt like a shout. A cry for help. A plea for him. It rang through Patton's ears with the force of a hurricane and knocked him off of his balance.

The arrow cracked and twisted off it's place on the bow and turned to stab through his heart.

He choked on the blood that had bubbled up into his throat and desperately pawed at the arrow lodged accidentally into his most valuable organ.

The words of one of his superior angels and teacher, Balladeil, flared up into his mind. A cupid was not meant to take a cupid's arrow. A cupid's arrow was not made to be used on a cupid.

"Oh Eros!" He cried "Oh no!"

He grabbed at the arrow and started yanking on it. Trying to pull it out of his chest. But it was being stubborn, latching onto his Grace and using that to keep ahold of him. More blood gushed from the wound only to be consumed by his Grace as it tried to heal him from the intrusion. Tears started pouring from Patton's eyes to match Virgil's.

Then, before he knew it, the arrow had melted into his heart and merged into his Grace. And the connection had been completed.

Patton stared dumbfoundedly at the clean space where it used to be for several solid minutes. The wounds were completely healed now and the blood was all gone. It was too late. He had been too late. He had failed.

He took a shaky breath and moved to collect his bow and quiver.

He stored them carefully back into his Grace.

He looked back down at Virgil, who was getting up from the ground now.

He flew slowly over the graveyard as Virgil walked hurriedly past the leering groundskeeper.

He followed Virgil silently all the way back to his home, often passing by a strange crow that happened to be on the same flight path as him.

He watched over Virgil for the rest of the day and way on into that night.

Did I really deserve it?

It happens when you're hurting.

And cut me at the surface,

Of my heart.

Of my heart-heart-heart.

A/N: Patton, you darling idiot. You would have been fine if you weren’t so clumsy. X3 Anyways, hope y’all enjoyed! The next fic I’ll post will be that Creativitwins one shot I mentioned earlier. And then it’ll be right back into the E.V.O.L au! ;3

Tag List:

@accidental-sanders 

@ren-allen

@noneed4thistbh

@virgil-the-void-kitten

@totalwhovian

@bandgeek82002-love

@allycat31415

@notalwaysthevillian

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@friendly-neighborhood-murderer

@randomcrew

@demon-of-sparkles

@transdimentionalapocolypse

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@dxlphmax

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@im-a-space-gay

@kai-the-person

[toongrrl-blog]

Perpetua: A Potential Heroine for our times.

Hi everyone we are going to rant about the Bridget Jones series once again and talk about a character, who I feel came too early before our current zeitgeist of bad bitch feminism and the #GirlBoss: Perpetua. 

Perpetua is not intended to be likable. She is very posh, snooty, a bit arrogant, and demanding of Bridget and people she works with, greeting Bridget with a slight sneer as she comes into work and Bridget’s inner monologue voices a desire to staple stuff to her head for having gained a bit of power over Bridget in the publishing company Pemberley Press. Gee, let’s see what we have: entitled, snooty, fancy, having the attitude they are above it all, who has those traits? I’ll wait *sipping tea*

But we notice something about Perpetua; after Bridget’s relationship with Daniel implodes because he was using her as his side piece and decides to find a better job elsewhere, Bridget goes to Daniel to tell him she is quitting. Perpetua overhears and picks up on what has been going on (she is appalled at what she is hearing) and as soon as Daniel tries to beg Bridget to stay, Perpetua gets up to defend Bridget: “I want to hear this, because if she gives one inch, I’m going to fire her bony arse for being totally spineless!” To her smiling pride, she sees Bridget tell Daniel off and leave the publishing company...and that’s the last we see of Perpetua. Even after that (awesome) scene, my teenage self got the message that it’s better to be a Bridget over a Perpetua, a bubbly but insecure girl who tries to conform to the male gaze over a stoic and IDGAF woman who does what she wants. I also heard messages from people, like my parents, telling me how important it was to act and look a certain way to be “likable”; it was better to be insecure and conventionally feminine rather than to be confident not very popular but self-assured. Also Bridget was the rom-com heroine who had people fall in love with her, Perpetua was seen as stuck-up and she was thrown to the wayside. Who stood to reap the benefits of our society?

Looking back, I found out that after almost 20 years of trying to be a Bridget: the “relatable” insecure girl next door type who is vulnerable and needs the validation of those to find her desirable and “worth it” that I’m wasn’t the likable, conventionally pretty and feminine Bridget...I was Perpetua: not always likable, assertive, willing to put her neck out there, not always sociable, but assured of her intelligence and her ability to turn heads. Plus we have our signature style and know how to work accessories. While Bridget dresses basic and in miniskirts (she wants to blend in but also attract men), Perpetua stands out in her headbands, pearls, cardigans, and pie-crust collars combining the elements that I loved in a younger Hillary Rodham Clinton, Peggy Olson, Nancy Wheeler, and Raquel Rodriguez Orozco from Destinos: An Introduction to Spanish. Just a Power Preppie who figured out how to stick out and take her place in a male-dominated workplace, with no apologies. 

After watching Tee Noir’s video on women who were declared to be problematic but upon second viewing and reading were raising valid points about their situation or the situations they observed but lacked the likability or popularity to be taken seriously, I was inspired to finally write this post. As Perpetua was a woman who showcased what it was like to live life on your terms and not ask for the permission of anyone to validate you. A woman who may have envied Bridget’s “bony arse” but didn’t let her size or peoples’ perceptions of her appearance get in the way of getting what she wanted from others. 

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Here are some tropes and issues I will be referring to in this order, as they relate to Perpetua’s role in the films and books and how they regard her.

Fatphobia: Being Targeted by Internalized Hatred

“Ah. Introduce people with thoughtful details. Perpetua, this is Mark Darcy. Mark is a prematurely middle-aged prick with a cruel raced ex-wife. Perpetua is a fat-ass old bag who spends her time bossing me around.” Bridget Jones’s inner monologue, Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)

We all know that Bridget Jones is notoriously famous for obsessing over her weight (134 lbs. at 5′4″, which is pretty fine) and that there have been reviews of the books and the movies condemning her or passive-aggressively noting that she isn’t Hollywood Thin and how it was remarkable for she (with hourglass curves, wears a small to medium size, blonde and blue eyed, average pretty at her worst) to get Colin Firth and Hugh Grant (in their prime) to fight over her. Whether we go by the timeline of the books (her birth year being 1962, Marilyn Monroe’s death) or the movies (her birth year being 1969 in the first film, post Jayne Mansfield), we see that Bridget grew up in and became an adult in an age where the female standard of beauty had gotten thinner and thinner, with even models having their pores air-brushed away from their faces. To paraphrase a Mad Men fan when she was talking about the culture of the mid-1960s, when she was a kid and women wanted to look curvaceous as Marilyn and Elizabeth Taylor, she looked like Twiggy; when she developed the voluptuous curves, everyone wanted to look like Twiggy. The 1970s and 1980s was an age of self-improvement as female empowerment (feminism co-opted by capitalism) where dieting and getting thinner was seen as “bettering” oneself. Suddenly it wasn’t cool for Bridget to strut her stuff in a pencil skirt a la Joan Holloway, it wasn’t enough to be a junior partner or to create your own safety net, even the irresistible Veronica Lodge worried about her weight. 

*WARNING: Most of my sources refer to Fat Black Women but I feel like the arguments hold up here*

Then we go to Bridget and Perpetua, aside from their personality clash, Bridget is secretly envious and outwardly disgusted by how Perpetua can be much heavier than Bridget, yet wear curve-hugging clothes and go shopping and not give a shit about how her body looked. Perpetua knows that her boyfriend appreciates her good pussy under her gut! Bridget comforts herself by telling herself that happiness comes from reaching attainable goals....like changing one’s body rather than making money or procuring items....sigh Capitalism is a son of a gun. Clearly Bridget has animosity towards Perpetua for being plump and not feeling like she needs to hide for not looking like a supermodel. But why?

Fatphobia is one way of expressing internalized hatred against one’s body and their own self. In fact, Perpetua committed the sin of loving herself (or being neutral to oneself) as she is, and stands out from the rest of the cast who are obsessed with living up to certain standards to putting forward a certain image to the world that everything is fine. In a fatphobic capitalist patriarchy, it’s quite maddening that she would develop the arrogance and entitlement that she puts on display, especially because she is a...woman! Katie Wee, in her essay for Huffington Post, talked about how it was hard for her to play a fat-shaming exercise instructor in an episode of Shrill because she wouldn’t fat shame another person, but she had practice internalizing that cruelty. Wee talks about her history of eating disorders and over-exercising, all in a bid to become a ballerina, well into her twenties. Currently she works at a body-inclusive fitness studio and that Lindy West and Aidy Bryant were very encouraging in her performance. She also said:

When Annie writes her off, I made the decision that for Tanya this hits something much deeper. It’s as if Annie is saying Tanya’s life’s work is for nothing, or her religion is bullshit. Annie is feeling content in the body she is in, and for Tanya this feels like a personal attack. The subtext to what Tanya is saying is, “If I don’t get to be happy in my body, neither do you! Especially not you.”

This was also explored in the Room 104 episode “The Hikers” where college graduates and childhood best friends go on a hiking trip before they start working or looking for work. Megan (the fabulous Shannon Purser) is plump, freckled, down to earth and happy to have gotten a job offer right after she accepted her degree while her friend Casey (Kendra Carelli) is thin, has excelled on Instagram artifice, and hasn’t procured her own job yet but is triumphant over her past popularity. Yet a placed pebble in Megan’s boot reveals that Casey has been feeling disgust over how her fat friend would thrive in a larger body and not cover up and how she was burdened with making sure she was included in social gatherings growing up, soon Casey’s angry rant after Megan voiced her disgust over Casey’s sense of superiority over her reveals that Casey is angry that being conventionally beautiful and popular hasn’t made her any happier with herself or her own life, while Megan has excelled in their young adulthood in spite of her appearance and lack of popularity. Bridget is angry that Perpetua is thriving and content with her own life despite not looking a certain way while Bridget has been trying to get down to 110 lbs since she was a teenager and has been backing out of rooms after getting laid so the menfolk wouldn’t notice her behind isn’t scrawny (what would she think of Kim Kardashian’s or Nicki Minaj’s behinds?). Bridget, who poured energy into fitting an ideal of an adult woman, is miserable while Perpetua, who isn’t the “ideal woman”, is successful. 

There is also some egocentrism on Bridget’s part: she is a heroine of a rom com so the story centers on her, with her friends being mere satellites. There has been a tradition of the fat best friend who exists to support the leading lady or gent who will fall in love while the fat person gets to sass and serve as cheerleader, with no insight on their inner life. Especially if they are Black. Tee Noir noted that most of the funny fat friends tend to be more engaging and likable or just plain compelling than the conventionally attractive main character, but their characterization is often neglected, to the point of sometimes even lacking a last name. In fact society, and even fat people, are internalized towards thinking that if you don’t fit the standard of desirability (thin, white, young-ish, cis, wealthy), you have to settle for less in your relationships and in entitlements, like how Annie in Shrill goes out with a boy who is too mediocre for her, all because she got the message that a fat girl like her shouldn’t expect a hunk or even a guy who is going to treat her decently and see her as a goddess. The show centered on Annie bringing out her inner fat bitch. Bridget hears constantly from her smug married male pals that women of a certain age shouldn’t be too picky because they aren’t as attractive and fertile as younger women (ring, ring, I am calling Tarana Burke on their asses, can I be the hype man?) and that triggers her insecurities about being single and 130 something pounds. Perpetua, who is a bit older than Bridget, medically overweight, single (but with a boyfriend) and less conventionally attractive than her...and is thriving in her life with no rush to the altar and she is free to voice demands in her relationship. I guess Bridget isn’t as nice as we were supposed to think she is, no shade, but be upfront about it Bridget (or writers). 

But I can go easy on our hapless blonde, because Bridget (and probably Perpetua) internalized the notion that fat is disgusting and that women who aren’t thin enough have to shrink themselves and blend in, not causing waves. Perpetua lets us in on some hints that perhaps she is jealous of Bridget’s looks and figure, referring to her as having a “bony arse” for one, but it’s not a driving trait of her character. In her seminal book on female Baby Boom pop culture history, Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female with the Mass Media, she noted that from a young age women were encouraged to see other women as competition, and if one woman is victorious in one area, we are defeated “And we had grown up with a notion of a female hierarchy in which some women---the Waspy, wealthy, young, and beautiful---were at the top of the pyramid and other women---the poor, the dark-skinned, the ugly, the old, the fat---were at the bottom and this is something that advertising (a source that sells Perpetua her image of wealth and sells Bridget’s insecurities) capitalizes on. Media in the 1970s have even applied the same dichotomy to some feminists where Germaine Greer (before she was all TERFy) and Gloria Steinem were held up as exceptions to the stereotype of ugly, nagging, and/or mannish feminists (something that Betty Freidan, Kate Millet, and the OG Bella Abzug got slapped with). It’s the ugly side affect of individualism.

One can hope that Bridget got the shameless and joyful spirit of that little girl who ran around the paddling pool in her underwear back. 

Who’s Afraid of “Fat ass old bags”?: Backlash against non-insecure women

“Do what you feel in your heart to be right – for you'll be criticized anyway.” Eleanor Roosevelt

Let’s be clear: arrogance isn’t confidence. I use the term “non-insecure” as an umbrella term for Perpetua and for confident women who have faced backlash for their lack of willingness to act like they are less than to appease the patriarchy. But...men get to be arrogant and admired for their drive and accomplishments, hell they don’t even have to accomplish much unless you count bankruptcies (look at who is President of the United States at the time of this writing). So why do women who act arrogantly, aggressively, cut throat, authoritative, or just plain assert their needs and personal boundaries are so vilified? So I will try to look for how we could all learn to be confident as Perpetua. 

Ever since Peggy Olson was promoted to Junior Copywriter, and even before, women in the workplace have been scrutinized from the secretarial pool to even top positions as CEO or junior partner. Like McCann-Erickson in the final season of Mad Men, Pemberley Press is something of a toxic workplace where underlings fight to get noticed for their achievements in dull lighting, men like Daniel Cleaver and Mr. Fitzherbert (more like Tits Pervert, right Bridget?) feel free to sexually harass women who haven’t developed the skills to defend themselves and demand respect, and where the characters we are closest to, don’t really like her. Women in power tend to confuse a white cis male hierarchy with a pecking order where the men try to undermine her authority either because they find her too attractive or make her feel unattractive, sometimes other women would undermine women because their success threatens their own self-image as women. A toxic workplace can also be why Bridget cannot excel at the work she does (she jumps from one toxic workplace to another in the movie); this can also be why Perpetua comes off as a hardass, she has to put up a shield to protect herself and the years working at Pemberley Press have hardened her to the point where Bridget couldn’t relate to her. 

Bridget, according to Daniel Cleaver and the viewers of the films, is likable while Perpetua is not. Bridget is very feminine, sexy, witty, self-deprecating, supportive, warm, and non-intimidating while Perpetua may be feminine (look at them pearls and long hair), she isn’t conventionally attractive as Bridget and her size and age have kept her out of the “sexy box” and while Perpetua is clever, the woman doesn’t ease her way into conversations at parties like Bridget pretty much demanding to be introduced and included in them and she walks with the ease and assumption that she belongs everywhere she goes. Perpetua just also isn’t cuddly, but men get to be aloof like Mark to the point of being insulting or irreverent like Daniel to the point of toxicity, why is Perpetua being judged so harshly for traits that we see in these two high-status men? Forbes magazine once quoted that women are affected by two types of bias at work: prescriptive and descriptive bias. 

Descriptive bias is the labels we attach and associate with certain social groups and communities, and prescriptive bias is how they are expected to behave. And, when someone does not conform to these prescribed roles and behaviors they can be penalized or punished. Women, for instance, are traditionally expected to be caring, warm, deferential, emotional, sensitive, and so on, and men are expected to be assertive, rational, competent and objective. So, when it comes to promotion, these traits are sometimes automatically prescribed to people as per their gender without detailed information about their personalities, thereby a man, in general, is assumed to be a better fit as a leader.

The other side of this is prescriptive bias is when a woman does not fit the role that is traditionally assigned to her and attempts to claim a traditionally male position is seen as breaking the norm. So, when a woman is decisive, she might be perceived as "brusque" and "abrupt". Therefore, for the same kind of leadership behavior, women might be penalized while a man is commended.

Women who are traditionally feminine (passive, self-effacing, caring), are considered “likable” but not leadership material while women who display traditionally masculine traits (assertiveness, self-preservation, ambition) are considered ball-busters. Both women are less likely to get promoted because of both bias, while what’s “bossy”  or, sometimes, “hysterical” for women, get’s men promoted (*cough* Brett Kavanaugh crying that he likes beer *cough*). Women who help out at work aren’t seen for what those caring and proactive qualities can benefit the workplace, it’s expected that a woman would be so domestic. Even female candidates for Head of State are subjected to the tyranny of likability....for a position where the focus has to be on achieving safety and stability for a nation, even if no one likes them, a position that will be decisive no matter what they do. The work can be done by women supporting one another and both genders checking their biases at the door. Men can call out another man for describing their appropriately authoritative female boss as a “bitch” and women can examine why other women demanding more in their relationships or being promiscuous is so threatening to them. Women can even decide who takes turns at office domestic tasks like making coffee and getting birthday cards signed, making it a universal effort by the work site and network with each other as they celebrate each other’s triumphs and different traits.  

Bridget’s passivity doesn’t help her in being taken seriously at work by her male peers either. Whereas Perpetua is disparaged for being older, heavier, and less conventionally attractive as she is criticized for being authoritative, Bridget is reduced to her sex appeal by Daniel to her face and even described as “fannying about with the press releases” (hearing about this treatment incenses Perpetua to Bridget’s side), thereby reducing Bridget’s femininity into something frivolous and not a endearing trait that helps her navigate the world. Bridget has proved in a deleted scene that she can give a brilliant advertising pitch for a horror novel, sadly the assignment was for a children’s book but it was maddening that the men wouldn’t give Bridget that credit (watch it, I can see Peggy Olson smiling somewhere). Bridget is also hampered by what is called “Imposter Syndrome”: according to Wikipedia, it “is a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their skills, talents or accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a 'fraud'” despite have external skills and a number of accomplishments. Aside from her own appearance, Bridget puts her own abilities and intellect down, and it’s no surprise as how her society puts an emphasis on the physical appearance of women: “If you've grown up with messages that you're only valued for your looks and your body, not your skills or intelligence, you may end up getting a certain job or position and wondering whether you truly deserve it or if the hiring manager just thought you were a pretty face”, said clinical psychologist Emily Hu for the BBC (not to mention it’s much harder for women of color who deal with their cultural expectations and prejudice from a white supremacist patriarchy). Bridget’s own outrageous mother hasn’t passed down her bolder traits to her daughter and often makes Bridget feel small as she berates her for “not getting your colours done” or being unmarried. 

In a world where tomboys and girly girls are pitted against each other, what would have happened if Perpetua and Bridget have let go of their preconceived notions of one another? Perpetua does seem to see Bridget as more than “blonde hair and big boobs”. It’s worth seeing that when the Bustle wrote about how to combat workplace misogyny, that they emphasized how important it was to support other women in the workplace as Perpetua did for Bridget at the last minute, alongside feeling free to disagree with men and demand a raise. Once again I want to note, Bridget and Perpetua are both white cis able-bodied women from upper-middle class backgrounds, so if their professional journey is fraught just imagine what it’s like for women of color. 

Tough Women

“You can stand me up at the gates of hell. But I won't back down.” I Won’t Back Down, Tom Petty  

Bridget learns, as we all do, and like Perpetua might have done that if she wanted to overcome her issues, she really has to confront her own discomfort and take risks as she demands more from life. Perpetua is a tough woman: she doesn’t appear to soften, even when she is greeting Bridget or Mark Darcy, who she is impressed by and she seems to encourage Natasha’s efforts to snatch him up. Granted a woman like Perpetua probably learned she had to tough, if she wanted to make it in a male-dominated workspace, I would not be surprised if she had parents who instilled a sense of ambition and toughness in her from a young age, or like Megan from Bridesmaids, she had to deal with a childhood of bullying and took that pain to transform herself into a formidable character.

We also see from her confrontation with Daniel, she isn’t afraid to get harsh with a powerful man especially after she finds out that he has been using a female employee sexually and been denigrating her worth at the office. 

We don’t know Perpetua’s physical prowess and she clearly prefers pearls to combat boots, but she does possess traits that are associated with men: logical mind, firm, self-reliant, witty, sharp-minded, a professional in a cutthroat environment, and is flawed while being formidable. Perpetua is strong, a Shonda Rhimes character that Rhimes herself hasn’t created. Sadly like most Tough Girls, she isn’t her own protagonist and is there as an accessory to the main character, the Trinity to The Matrix’s Neo and she is often the lone woman that Bridget interacts with at work. Tough Girls are counterparts to more “typical” women: traditionally feminine women who are softer and more emotional...Bridgets. One thing I want to note is that Bridget is the protagonist instead of a love interest but yet she stands alone as her friendships are not that positive and her relationship with her mother is strained. Like Ripley of the Alien series, Perpetua is the lone smart and strong woman who has to deal with a environment where no one else wants to listen to her and everyone is ruled by their emotions (or their libido). She is Joan Holloway, who weathers the misogynistic waters with her razor-sharp observations and commentary regarding the absurdities of the people who are around her, while not being afraid to command attention and others, even at the risk at not being truly liked but “admired”. Not a phony. Perpetua is a privileged woman but like I stated before, she dealt with a combination of body-shaming and misogyny that toughened her...but why should a woman be tough and hurt? We could have had a scene where Bridget encourages Perpetua to reveal her vulnerabilities and open up along with Perpetua pushing her to be more resilient over a spa day with face masks, pedicures, beer, Milk Trays, pizza, Terminator movies, and hair makeovers while discussing how to hide Uncle Geoffrey’s body.

Strong Independent Women

“The watch I'm wearin', I've bought it. The house I live in, I've bought it. The car. I'm driving, I've bought it. I depend on me, I depend on me.” Independent Women, Destiny’s Child

Imagine trying to reconcile feminist principles of not depending on male partners and rugged individualism that insists the opposite of what John Donne’s quote about how one person is a party of a larger community. You have the Strong Independent Woman, who is used by capitalism to sell feminism and face cream/Spanx/sanitary napkins/Wonderbras/lipstick, who needs no man (or interdependence) to thrive in a still misogynistic world. This misogynistic world also abhors the independence, self-assurance, self-reliance, and self-love of women who choose to follow their path. Meanwhile the non-mainstream feminist and environmental movement have pushed for a culture of interdependence and for a culture that doesn’t base one’s value on how much money or genius or beauty (or what have you) an individual possesses; Bella Abzug noted that “Our struggle today is not to have a female Einstein get appointed as an assistant professor. It is for a woman schlemiel to get as quickly promoted as a male schlemiel”.

But the image of the female individualist for one strong reason: women are still expected to perform the bulk of emotional and domestic labor while being paid less than their male peers for the same job, also because of ingrained sexism and perpetuated self-doubt, many women are still dependent on their spouses, parents, bosses, the opinions of others. It’s nice to see images of powerful, strong, often gorgeous women of wealth not have to depend on men for their worth or their livelihood. But we are flesh-and-blood human beings, not super beings or robots; even Perpetua shows some vulnerability when she refers to Bridget being a lot thinner than she and she is clearly looks crestfallen when she hears that Bridget has been belittled and used for her body by Daniel, we don’t hear much about her circle of friends in the movie aside from Natasha (in the book, she is friends with some same-minded women). Everyone needs an interdependent society of people supporting one another and helping each other grow. 

Perpetua both upholds and subverts the tenets of the Independent Woman: she isn’t the supermodel-esque independent woman but Perpetua makes her own money and at lot of it, she dresses very well to project her authority in the workplace, she is bold, rejects the validation of male authority, and she isn’t afraid to be unlikable. She lives in a big city (because independent and single people don’t live in small towns or the suburbs *sarcasm*), presumably in her own spacious apartment or even a townhouse, she has found herself at some point before the story and has a strong sense of self, she works hard and has a strong sense of purpose because of her work ethic, and heaven help the dumbass that underestimates her or any other woman. She is a non-superpowered Carol Danvers: rather than waiting for someone to rescue her, she is quick to rescue herself from self-doubt or even rescue someone from injustice. She is noted to have a love interest, but she doesn’t revolve her world around him and is suggested to make demands for her needs in the relationship, showing she isn’t prone to fuckwittage as Bridget is (perhaps Perpetua learned to put a stop to that bullshit?). Of course because this is Bridget’s story, a woman who yearns for that fairytale ending of marriage, and this is a regressive, “post-feminist” (what sense does that make?) story, Perpetua isn’t a role model and is seen as a polar opposite to Bridget’s softness, ditziness, girliness, romanticism, and self-effacing persona.

I want to stop and say that I am so happy to be writing this essay in 2020, a year in which a large number of women (especially of color) have been elected to political office in record numbers with the Indian and Jamaican American Kamala Harris being elected as Vice President of the United States (and the first woman to do so). She is also independent enough to make her own money and develop her sense of self, along with a strong sense of agency and inter-dependent enough to credit the support and love she has from her blended family including her late mother. In fact the independent women of Broad City, Sex and the City, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Moana, Mulan, and GLOW (crossing self) all have inter-dependent systems of support and are one another’s family (hell even Bridget’s so-called friends are her “Urban Family”). I also want to say, it’s highly likely that Kamala was more a Perpetua and not a Bridget (or else she wouldn’t have been able to succeed like she has done in her career), thus her win as Vice President vindicates Perpetuas who have worked and lived before her. 

Working Women Do’s and Don’ts

“You're just a step on the boss man's ladder. But you got dreams he'll never take away.” 9 to 5, Dolly Parton

As established, Perpetua is happily single (but also partnered), she fulfilled in material comforts, she is unafraid to confront men about their bullshit (she has a hard time trying to get Fitzherbert away, I bet), and she has high standards. To paraphrase Charlotte Pickles, to thrive where she works she has to “eat, breathe, and sweat self-esteem” and she does. This is something that Bridget lacks and something I feel Perpetua can help her with. Sadly we never got that chance: the gentle and feminine Bridget and the stern and neutral Perpetua bonding in a mutually beneficial kinship. I’m sure that Perpetua wishes she could talk back to men like Julia Sugarbaker of Designing Women and that her role models came after some viewings of Working Girl, Baby Boom, and Murphy Brown and perhaps by the privileged and successful men (and a few women) in her family. It must be said that despite being referred to and clearly existing, we never see Perpetua’s boyfriend and that’s because pop culture has long depicted women in managerial and supervisory positions as lonely, ice-cold, unfeminine, and hard. Meanwhile more feminine women like Bridget don’t get the respect that Perpetua has and demands, and Perpetua lacks Bridget’s likability (Bridget of the many men and one woman who fall in love with her). While I wouldn’t consider Perpetua to be politically progressive (she is a woman of privilege and Sloan Rangers are considered Tories) but she isn’t a woman who is willing to exploit others for her own bottom line (or the corner office). We do see that she is quick to defend Bridget from slut-shaming or having her worth denigrated by Daniel, which leads to a rare scene of comcaderie between her and Bridget. I get the sense that Perpetua isn’t merely interested in ruling the workplace, but she wants to change the workplace enough to be less toxic (getting rid of Daniel and Fitzherbert). 

I can find some similarities to Perpetua in three fictional characters known for their drive in the workplace: Dr. Christina Yang (Grey’s Anatomy), Peggy Olson (Mad Men), and Princess Carolyn (Bojack Horseman). Christina Yang, like her creator Shonda Rhimes (if you are reading this Ms. Rhimes or someone writing or interning for her, please feel free to take ideas for a film or show about Perpetua, I need cheddar), is proudly childfree, dominant, blunt, up for a good time, and voraciously sexual and ambitious. Like Perpetua, she doesn’t aim to please others and very performative in her actions and words along with being caring and brusque (and snarky, especially about the terrifying Mr. Blobby). Also like Perpetua, Yang finds comcaderie with a bubbly young blonde who is sometimes reduced to her beauty (Izzy as played by Katherine Heigel) and tries to lift her girl friends up. While Perpetua has been working in a post Cold War publishing company, Peggy Olson is a young woman from Brooklyn working at a advertising agency in the 1960s, with different struggles from her more “sexier” counterpart (Joan is a more confident Bridget after all, and Peggy has some BJ traits). Peggy is also a trailblazer for assertive working women of today and paved the way for Perpetua across the pond, setting an example from the ground up (partly observing the men above her) when she wasn’t able to find much female role models that didn’t rely on their sexuality or follow a traditional path. Women during that time didn’t have reproductive freedom, equal pay (still, sigh), and working women were shamed for wanting to follow a different path. Peggy also deals with fatphobia in Season One (she was actually pregnant) and divorced herself from her sexuality temporarily (but she experiments with sex and drugs throughout the series). Like Peggy, Perpetua isn’t crippled by Don Draper’s self-loathing (Bridget) or lack of discipline (Daniel) and Perpetua had to learn to believe in herself rather than merely rely on the validation of others. Princess Carolyn is a pink, perky, girly girl cat but like Perpetua she has a relentless drive, is intelligent, hard-working, can sell something (a celebrity image or books), and knows how to positively influence certain people around her. All these women have lived by their own self-definitions and owned the struggles they endured to get ahead. 

Can’t Be Tamed

Walter Stratford: Hello, Katarina. Make anyone cry today?

Katarina Stratford: Sadly, no. But it's only 4:30. 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

Rom Coms (such as Bridget Jones’s Diary) have a nasty habit of wanting to tame, soften, tone down, settle down an independent woman with her strong mind, sharp tongue, active sex life, and own money to matrimony. Then we have heroines who are allowed to fly their freak flag and find their own tribe (or leading man). That is Kat Stratford, the teenage feminist protagonist of 10 Things I Hate About You, a girl that Perpetua would have been at that age if she were American with blonde, pretty privilege. After all Perpetua has been perceived by Bridget (a Bianca without wit or spine) as a “heinous bitch” as delivered by the fabulous Allison Janney; they are perceived as difficult women who rain down their parades with their truth and don’t suffer the foolishness of arrogant men. Such women are supposed to be tamed, which has several meanings. The negative being to “tone down” or “dominate”; an alternate definition has been offered by The Little Prince’s fox “to earn one’s trust”.

We don’t know if Perpetua has anyone, romantic or platonic, to complement her personality and balance her out as Natasha seems to have Perpetua’s negative traits. This is where she and Bridget could have developed a friendship, combining vulnerability and a disdain for the fickle opinions of others and keep from having to choose between love and career, between relationships and financial independence. We could have seen a closer relationship blossom over the story just as Bianca and Kat grow closer to one another in the film. Maybe Bridget demanding more from Mark at the end, telling him that just because he bought her a new diary it doesn’t mean that he can get away with walking away from her and that it makes up for how tight-assed he can be with Perpetua cheering her on and another scene where Bridget smiles and let’s Perpetua squees over something in excitement. 

Like Kat, the Perpetuas can find their own tribes or mates. 

Women of Privilege in Media

Rich bitches, girl bosses, sassy queens, matriarchs, as Christopher Rosa noted about these women (which includes Perpetua): "They're rude, they're loaded, and we love them for it.” In a world that hates empowered women, as bell hooks bluntly noted, these Regina Georges, Cheryl Blossoms, Alexis Carringtons, and Perpetuas take back that slur and wrap it up in designer couture and fabulous accessories with nary a hair out of place. They own the negative stereotypes and manicure it into an image of fearlessness. They reject the social pressures placed on women to be nice no matter what, likable, fade into the background, and talk themselves down. Rich bitches indulge themselves with no apology and wear their strengths as boldly as their statement jewelry. But what if you don’t want to be bitchy all the time, what if you want to channel that fierceness into something constructive? 

#Girlboss is an atom and a half: traditionalists argue that she isn’t a proper “feminine” woman who loses out on heterosexual love and children (”true womanhood”) while many feminists argue that she simply advanced to a seat in the patriarchy and doesn’t give a damn about the little people below her enough to truly make positive changes. Pop Culture has four flavors of the this character, as noted by The Take: the Bitch Boss, the Pre Code Boss who acts the way we think women started acting like after 1968, the Feminine Boss, and the social media savvy Girlboss who starts companies with cutesy names like WAHAM or WEEMAN or GOOP and they are often white and conventionally attractive. The last flavor exploits feminist phrases while selling out to capitalism and patriarchy for women to buy more shit and willing to step on people’s heads while building her empire. Sometimes she’s Charlotte Pickles, a somewhat ruthless but loving mother and CEO who loves angora sweaters, is glued to her phone, and can effectively hit the roof of a overturned boat with her high heel. Perpetua may seem standoffish to care only about her bottom line or take on traditionally masculine traits like Ruth Chatterton in Female or Diane Keaton in Baby Boom, but she proves to be a Leslie Knope when she stands up for Bridget in a heated moment. Perpetua has no necessity for large pink letters or catchphrases to prove she is a powerful (and empowered) woman, she simply is. One can see Perpetua taking over Pemberley Press, first Daniel’s job and then ousting Fitzherbert and taking his position, thus ousting misogyny from that workplace and using her power to uplift more voices in writing. 

Bridget and Perpetua, meet, Betty and Veronica (respectively). While the Bridget the Nice Girl avoids her issues (and Betty can be in danger of being subsumed by them), Veronica and Perpetua make their rules and are willing to break them. Like Perpetua, the teenage Veronica wears her posh prep clothes proudly with a string of pearls and headbands holding her shiny hair. Veronica is also confronting a system (and family legacy) that taints America and makes living so impossible for people who have no boots to pull the straps from and handicaps her to a pedestal. Perpetua seems to want her friend Natasha to snap up Mark Darcy (remember she knows nothing of Mark and Bridget) like Veronica in the CW reboot wanted Betty to do with Archie. Both want to work hard and be recognized for their merit, not wanting to depend solely on Daddy’s money, bucking long-standing patriarchal expectations of upper-class young women who were expected to marry a man from a similar class and have children to inherit the money. Perpetua and Veronica show a willingness to get down and dirty while being allies to their less privileged and/or more passive female comrades. They also wield their power to take down over-puffed authority figures who abuse their privilege and have attitude when a woman gets slut-shamed or otherwise mistreated. Remember Daniel and Mr. Titspervert, Perpetua’s specialty is ice.

Legally Blonde and Bridesmaids, etc. 

Vivian Kensington. Elle Woods. Professor Stromwell. These women showcase an alternative where cold but supportive women befriend our plucky blonde protagonist in a Playboy bunny suit and a douchebag ex-boyfriend (before ending up with a lawyer who comes off as uptight). Legally Blonde gifted Elle camaraderie with these women while Perpetua was left at the wayside and Elle was given a circle of supportive friends while Bridget had friends who negged her and were a poor influence on her confidence. Where Delta Nu gave Elle their time to help her practice for the LSATS, Bridget’s friends openly wonder out loud that Mark Darcy said he likes Bridget as she is, ditziness and unfashionable (of the time) curves and non-airbrushed looks (really?). We also see Elle add more people to her friend circle, like the working-class Paulette who proves to be mutually supportive of Elle and has been empowered by her to stand up to her ex and then we focus on two women who stand in for Perpetua: the steely Professor Stromwell ( the Mrs. Sarah Paulson, Holland Taylor) and the preppy  Vivian Kensington (Selma Blair, la diva). Vivian and Elle start out as rivals for the handsome but douchey Warner Huntington III, who categorizes these women as the wife material Jackie and the fun and hot-tubbing Marilyn, but slowly upon finding out that their professor is a sexist who demands his young interns get him coffee and that Warner lacks Elle’s integrity find some common ground. Vivian is horrified and takes back her previous behavior upon hearing that their professor has sexually harassed Elle, reducing this intelligent and savvy young woman to her sex appeal. Also Professor Stromwell puts Elle on the spot on her first day of classes at and has a reputation for making her students sob, but it’s implied that Stromwell sees a bit of herself in Elle and wants this young woman to succeed and that means challenging her to do the hard work in Harvard. In the climax of the film, when Elle discusses quitting Harvard because of people undervaluing her intellect and being sexually harassed as a final straw, Stromwell turns around in her salon chair and tells Elle: “If you let one male prick ruin your life, you’re not the girl I thought you were.” Stromwell gets credit in Elle’s valedictorian speech at the end of the film. We see here that while Elle upholds girliness and finds new love in a established lawyer, unlike Bridget she has a support system of women (and a few men) who encourage her to kick ass and challenge the perceptions of others and celebrate her triumph in defending someone from a life-altering sentence. 

I feel that in 2001, either Annie Mumulo or Kristen Wiig watched BJD and found the relationship between Bridget and Megan wanting as well as I did, this likely spurred them into writing Bridesmaids, a film that centered on women fighting over a best friend rather than a man, where the male love interest listened to the protagonist vent about her friend issues, and where an overweight and unconventional female secondary character pushes our insecure everywoman protagonist to start fighting for her goals and her sense of self, or rather her “shitty life”. Annie (Kirsten Wiig) is a former owner of a bakery that fell victim to the 2008 recession who is hitting rock bottom as her childhood best friend gets engaged and starts befriending her fiancee’s boss’s preened to perfection wife Helen (Rose Byrne)  and then finds comfort and motivation in the form of the fiancee’s wacky sister Megan (Melissa McCarthy). Annie gets loonier as the movie goes on (ahem) until Megan persuades her to channel that spirit more constructively; Megan is proud of her hard-earned achievements and is confident but also kind enough to adopt several puppies and see Annie at her lowest. Megan earns her own money and demands more from her relationships than the other women in the movie (unhappy marriages, lack of communication, lack of trust) and emboldens Annie to grab life by the horns, thus starting a new friendship. It’s notable that this film is about post-college aged adults and the role of friendships in their lives.

Perpetua’s Potential

The 2010s have shown more narratives that focused on women’s relationships with one another and have even re-defined what “happily ever after” looks like and as a result of the #MeToo and #TimesUp Movements, women have examined how toxic their culture is to women and finding that the harassment and assault of women to be terrifyingly normalized and it has been for a long time. Millennial and Gen Z women have even questioned the issue of pitting women against each other, one of which is the “not like other girls” attitude that pits the cool babe or the weird girl against the high-maintenance girly girls that easily conform to society (even rewriting these types as friends or lovers to one another). 

So what does that mean for Bridget Jones’s Diary? Well we could see a B Plot on Mark Darcy and his divorce from his Japanese ex-wife and she’d be given her own inner life and complexities, Perpetua might have to reconcile her relationship with Bridget and Natasha (the latter who is hostile to the former), we could see Perpetua strike up a friendship with her polar opposite Bridget and the narrative could focus on Bridget helping Perpetua open up her softer side while Perpetua gives Bridget the encouragement to stand up to her (admittedly) trashy family and friends and demand more from her relationship with Mark (or even dump him). We can even see them include Rebecca Gillies, the beautiful trust fund baby that works for Mark and finds Bridget to be desirable as she is (without being backhanded about it Mark!). We can see Bridget become stronger as she has one friend who challenges her to be better and another friend who finds her supremely wonderful and gets her to see it. 

Maybe we can see Uncle G die, a girl can dream.

The Rise of the Perpetuas or what happened after Bridget drank some of Perpetua’s Juice

#MeToo, #TimesUp, #BossBitch, Lizzo, Ariana Grande, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Beyonce, Hillary Clinton, Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar, the Notorious (and late) Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Jacinda Ardern, Michelle Obama, Jameela Jamil, Mindy Kaling, Tiffany Ferg, Kimberly Nicole Foster, Dahvi Waller, Gretchen Whitmer, #BlackGirlsAreMagic, Mothers of the Movement, CaShawn Thompson, Intersectional Feminism, Black Feminism, Mad Men, Mrs. America, Insecure, The Baby Sitters Club, Amy Schumer, GLOW, Emma Gonzalez, Candice Carty Williams, Malala Yousafzai, Kamala Harris, Meghan Markle...all of them have grappled with issues like Bridget and Perpetua and have even expanded the conversation about women’s day to day lives and the small (and large) ways society is misogynistic and have gone further to question why it’s so commonplace. We even see a talk about body neutrality (as opposed to the sanitized body positivity), which one can easily see Perpetua practicing. We also see women being held up in social media as being “stanned” for being difficult, wonderful, achievement oriented, sassy, fierce, outspoken, demanding, and fashionable...all things that Perpetua was put down for. 

“I just took a DNA test, turns out I'm 100% that bitch

Even when I'm crying crazy

Yeah, I got boy problems, that's the human in me

Bling bling, then I solve 'em, that's the goddess in me” Truth Hurts, Lizzo

To paraphrase Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?: All this time, they could have been friends. 

The year 2020 has been a dismal year for women’s careers as women are swamped with the demands of domestic life and bosses have shown that they won’t cut their employees slack for having kids in the background. People even explored how the pandemic has revealed cracks in society from economic disparity, how women are ultimately shouldered with the burdens of home that men aren’t expected to, how vulnerable marginalized communities are in systems with poor health care and systemic bigotry, and the lack of a social safety net. These are challenges I see Gen X, Millennial, and Gen Z women pushing back against (I will show up, pussy hat and mask on my person). One can even see Bridget, the ex Mrs. Darcy, Perpetua, and Rebecca marching in their Women’s March or even the global Black Lives Matter marches as they cheer on (or help) “tipped” over statues of colonizers and slave traders. We’d even see them attend virtual seminars on how to be better allies to BIPOC and listen as ex Mrs. Darcy talked about her difficulties as a East Asian woman in a predominantly white society and Bridget promising to call out her mother for her racist comments. There’d be no good woman/bad-woman dichotomy being perpetuated as they embrace each other’s differences. 

[pan-roses]

No Sick Days {Moxiety Sick Fic}

Patton wakes up feeling sick, but he has so much to do today, that he can’t take a break. 

Warnings: Sickness, Remus, Deceit, mentions of puke, passing out. (If I missed a warning, let me know please!)

_________

Patton woke up feeling icky and lightheaded. He felt covered in sweat and his eyes were out of focus more than usual without his glasses on, and his body felt lacking his strength to hold him up properly. However, he had things to do, as all husbands and fathers of three usually do. He had to make Virgil, and the kid's breakfast, take Roman to acting lessons, drop Remus at his friend's house to work on a school project, and offer help for Logan’s science fair project to be ready for Monday. Not to mention to tidy the house and laundry. 

Such a busy man doesn’t have time to lay in bed and sleep. 

He looked at the clock. 6:30. It was a bit earlier than he usually woke up, but he didn’t want to risk falling back asleep. However, he didn’t make it out of the bed, as he was pulled back down gently by Virgil. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, still half asleep, but awake enough. 

“I was going to get a start on the day!” Patton said, making his voice a higher pitch to hide his tired voice. “You can never be too early.”

Virgil rose a brow. “First off, yes you can. And second, it’s way too early to do anything. At least stay in be for another half hour?” Virgil asked, already snuggling close to Patton, burying his head in his chest. 

Patton chuckled lightly at his husband, true love in his eyes. He didn’t want to risk sleeping in, but he couldn’t say no to Virgil and caved in. “Okay, maybe just a few more minutes.”

“Knew you’d stay,” Virgil mumbled, already falling back to sleep again. 

________

Patton felt slightly dazed when he felt a cool hand touch his forehead, waking him up. His eyes opened to a worried Virgil standing over him. “Virge?”

“Pat! Are you feeling okay?” 

Patton felt worse than before despite the short nap. He felt generally warmer, and his head hurt more. But seeing the worry on Virgil’s face, he knew that would only worry him to hear. “I feel fine, why?”

“Your burning up. I think you’re coming down with something.” Virgil told. “Maybe you should stay in bed for the day, catch up on some rest and such.”

Patton shook his head, sitting up. He felt his head rush with dizziness, but he ignored it. “I’m fine, Virgil. I probably just overheated with all the blankets we have.” Patton lied easily, making his gut turn in guilt. “I’m fine, promise! Besides, I have lots to do today.” 

“I could he--”

“No no! It’s finally your day off, you rest.” Patton leaned over and kissed Virgil’s forehead. “Relax, hun.” 

Virgil sighed, knowing he couldn’t get past Patton’s stubbornness. “Okay… but you better take it easy!” 

“I will. Now, you go get yourself settled downstairs, I’ll wake the kids and get a start on breakfast.” 

“Heh. have fun with those adorable trainwrecks.” Virge joked, kissing the back of Patton’s hand before leaving for downstairs. Patton finally got out of bed and quickly changed out of his sleepwear. He put on his cat sweater that youngest, Logan, got for his birthday last year, a blue skirt, and blue knee-high cat socks. He felt playful today, despite his terrible headache and sore body. He can be cute anytime he wants, sick or not!

He finished cleaning himself up for heading to the kid's rooms. Roman and Remus shared a room while Logan got one to himself. Roman wanted a room to himself, but Logan had more stuff than he did, with all his books and such, that it would’ve been too difficult to move it all. 

Heading to Logan’s room first, he knocked 3 times, lightly in case he was sleeping still. He didn’t want to startle the child. After a moment, a sleepy 13-year-old Logan opened the door, his glasses crooked on his face. “Good morning, father,” he yawned. “Waking me up for breakfast, I assume?”

“Well, it’s not made yet, but yes!” Patton knelt down to Logan’s height and fixed his glasses. “Did ya spend the night reading again?” 

He nodded. “I read about a book that involved stars and how were made using different chemicals from the Big Bang Theory.” 

“Sounds very interesting, kiddo! How about you get dressed and head downstairs with papa? I’m sure he’d love to hear all about it!” 

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. Patton kissed his head and Logan sunk back into his room, gently closing the door. When Patton stood back up, he felt his head rush and lent against the wall for support as the world spun. He felt so lightheaded, but he things to do, and he wouldn’t let this stop him. Giving himself a moment, he walked to the next door over, smiling when he heard voices on the other side of the door. He gave the door and knock before opening it, knowing they wouldn’t hear it. It opened to reveal the two 15-year-olds, Roman and Remus, acting out the scene in Sleeping Beauty, where Prince Phillip fought against Maleficent’s dragon form. Roman was the prince, pointing his wooden sword at Remus, who was Maleficent and who was standing on the top bunk, dressed in a dragon costume. 

“Where is my dear princess, you dragon fiend!?” Roman asked, acting pretty well. 

“Hahaha, as if I’d tell you, you poopy prince!” Remus retorted back, making a face at Roman. “You will never defeat me and my beloved Condom!” Remus then held up a hamster ball with his pet fish, Condom, in it. The fish actually didn’t mind being in there. 

Roman groaned “Urg, Remus, that’s not the line!” 

Remus shrugged and held Condom up to his face. “I don’t really care, Condom liked my performance, anyway.” 

“She’s a fish, Remus! There is no way you could know that.” 

“I feel it. I feel it right here.” Remus pointed to his butt, making Roman roll his eyes.

“You’re disgusting.” 

“And you’re annoying. You and your fish.” 

Roman gasped loudly. “How DARE you insult my dear Disney?! She is a goddess!” 

Patton, although he did enjoy watching them, knew this could go too far and stepped in. “Now now, kiddos. No fighting, okay. Both your fishes are amazing!” 

“DAD!” They both cheer, smiling brightly. 

“Hey, kiddos! Since you’re already dressed, wanna head downstairs while I make breakfast?” 

“Okay.” “Sure,” they said. 

Patton nodded. “Make sure to feed the fishes, as well, before you do.” 

He closed the door just as Logan left his room, dressed in his usual jeans and button-up. However, his tie wasn’t done up yet. “Ah, father, may I borrow you for some assistance? It will only be a moment, I’m sure. I just need help with my tie” 

“Sure thing, kiddo!” He knelt in front of Logan once again and did up Logan’s tie. While he did, Logan suddenly touched his forehead. 

“Father, you seem to have a rise in your temperature. Maybe consider taking a ‘sick day’?”

“No no, I’m okay, just a warm day.” When he finished the tie, he patted Logan’s head and stood up. “Besides, we have to finish your project today, don’t we?” 

Logan’s face lit up, smiling up at Patton. “That’s correct. For the science fair!” 

Patton smiled, feeling a burst of energy. Seeing his kids all happy and upbeat fills him with joy. 

_______

Patton kept that energy all the way through breakfast and clean up afterwards. But he started feeling worse than before as the day went on. It was an hour before he had to take Roman to acting lessons and Remus to Dee’s house. Patton didn’t feel safe enough to drive like this, but he had to do something,

“Ro and Re?” He called. The boys stopped looking at their phones and turned to Patton. “How about we walk instead of me driving? It’s a beautiful day out, let’s enjoy it!” 

When the boys excitedly agreed to walk, they packed up all they need. As they did, Virgil walked up to Patton, who had changed into a cat tank top that matched his sweater. “Pat, you seriously aren’t looking too good. You should really stay at home.”

“Virge, I really am fine. It’s just a warm day. I’m sure a walk will cool me off!” 

Virgil didn’t seem convinced as Patton left with Roman and Remus. Virgil knew Patton tended to lie with things like this, and it annoyed him that Patton couldn’t take time for himself. Virgil felt a small hand holding onto his, he looked down to see Logan holding his hand, a worried look also on his face. Virge held his hand tighter, pulling his son closer. “Yeah, I know, Lo… I’m worried too…” 

_______

The first stop they reached was Dee’s house. Remus ran ahead and rapidly knocked on the door until the annoyed face of Dee appeared. “Remus, must you be so annoying?” 

“Duuuh, it’s my job, Dee-Dee!” Remus giggled as Dee rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, just get inside. You brought your work, right?” He asked, waving goodbye and closing the door when Remus was inside. 

The next stop was Roman’s theatre. It was a bit further into town, about a half-hour walk. Patton and Roman chatted, but Ro defiantly carried the conversation as Patton was just trying his best to walk straight. 

“Dad, you okay?” Roman asked, concerned.

“I’m fine kiddo, just really hot out,” Patton said, fanning himself to make his lie more believable. It seemed to satisfy him as they made their way. 

When they arrived, Patton gave Roman a big hug as usual. “Have lots of fun, Ro-Ro. You’re gonna do great!”

“I know I will!” He said proudly. “Love you!” He said before running into the building, meeting up with his friends Joan and Talyn. 

As Patton made his way back home, he felt horrid. His body was barely listening to him as he swayed while walking and his mind made the world spin. His stomach felt like it was burning food he didn’t have, which caused his chest to hurt from the heaving he was doing trying to hold back vomit. 

“Uh, gurl-friend?” Patton heard a voice call out. He barely managed to turn, seeing his friend and neighbour, Remy standing there, holding a Starbuck’s as usual. His glasses were slid down his nose a bit so he could get a good look at Pat. “You look like shit.” 

Patton couldn’t even say anything back, because when he tried, he felt like he was about to puke. He held his mouth tight with one hand, the other holding his gut. He felt so lightheaded that everything went white for a second. 

Then he passed out. 

______

When Patton woke up again, he was met with the worried face of his husband, who put a fresh damp cloth on his head. “Virge?”

When Virgil head his husband’s voice, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you do this Patton? Why do you push yourself past your limits?” 

“Virgil?” Patton asked, worried.

“You scared me, Patton!” Virgil said, his voice raised. “When Remy called me saying you collapsed, I froze, Pat! I was so scared, scared that you’d pushed yourself to death! I can’t take this Patton! I can’t-- I can’t lose you like that, I can’t lose you! I was so scared Pat…!” Virgil had tears falling rapidly down his face. He grabbed Patton’s hand and held it to his chest tightly. Pat could feel his fast heartbeat. “You have to take care of yourself… Please, please, just… take care of yourself. The world won’t fall apart if you take a break. We can take care of ourselves from time to time. You don't have to push yourself.”

Patton didn’t realize he was crying till Virgil wiped his tears away. Pat pulled Virgil’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I’m sorry, Virge, I’m so sorry… I just, I feel like I’m enough for you all.”

“Pat, you are enough. You are always enough.”

Patton smiled, feeling love swell in his chest. “I love you.” 

“I love you too… We all do.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~

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[cynicalrainbows]

Prompt: Jane taking care of a really sick Joan, who had been trying to continue working and hide the illness from everyone else -Lizzie 🦔

It’s perhaps not exactly what you asked for....but close enough hopefully anyway!  

I started writing this at about 1am when some of the ghost hunt people were back in the cafe, making a lot of noise and making me want to throw things at them....hence Joan being super sensitive to noise here!

She holds herself together as long as she can- she really does.

Her head might be pounding (it is) and her skin might be prickling, clammy with sweat (it is), she might be aching with trying to not to shiver in a way that people will take notice of (she definitely is- it hurts enough that she wonders if she’s going to strain a muscle or three) but she can still do her job.

Sort of.

The thing is- everything suddenly feels harder.

Not just the work itself- the effort of having to hold herself up straight in her chair, the effort of making her fingers, suddenly fumbling and clumsy, work properly drains her, and the noise.

The noise of the music, and the noise of the others- Anne clatters into the studio and throws her bag down on the floor, Aragon barks rather than talks into her phone, Anna shouts hello to everyone and it just makes her want to cover her ears.

The conversations- all of them at once, staccato and overlapping, first someone shrieking with laughter and then someone hissing- hammer against her skull, and she’s suffocating from them. She wants quiet, she just wants quiet- if it were quiet, she’d be alright- and her irritation grows and grows. When she calls for their attention, they don’t even her at first and her temper breaks- how are they ignoring her, how do they care so little for their work when she’s dragged herself in feeling like this? (Granted, she’s brushed off any concern- Bessie asking if she’s sure she’s alright to go in, Jane wanting to know if she’s feeling quite alright- because it’s fine, she’s fine, she can work…..just not like this!)

She tries talking louder, and louder, and still they’re not listening, until she shrieks at them to shut up, just shut up, all of you and the room is quiet at last.

Anne and Cathy look up guiltily from the paper fortune teller they’re playing with; Aragon raises an eyebrow.

Jane alone steps forward.

‘Joan- are you alright, love?’

‘Yes.’ Too loud. ‘Yes.’ Quieter. ‘Just… I need everyone to listen for a change- and stop messing around-’

She hears some annoyed muttering- she’d bet her keyboard that it’s Anne or Aragon- but for once, she doesn’t care if they’re annoyed. She’s annoyed too.

‘Ok love- we’re all paying attention now-’

Jane’s voice is conciliatory and Joan feels a pang of guilt, that Jane is clearly including herself in the list of people who are guilty of Not Paying Attention. She hadn’t meant Jane...but she can’t say that either, she can barely keep her head straight enough to know what bit of music to pick up next.

‘Ok, we’ll begin with-’

She shivers again, and presses her cold hand to her hot forehead. If only her head would stop hurting for a minute-

‘We’ll-’

She’s hot, she’s so hot- she wonders if water will help, goes to pick up the glass on the edge of her stand-

-and then it’s sliding through her fingers, as if in slow motion, she can see the water spilling over her keyboard, the electronic screen going fuzzy and blank. The glass itself bounces off the edge- there’s a dent, there’ll surely be a dent- and then hits the floor and shatters.

Kitty squeals- she’s closest, sitting on the floor- as shards of glass fly at her. She puts her hand to her bare leg- there’s blood, not much but still-

Everyone else is silent, everyone is staring-

She opens her mouth to apologise- instead, she bursts into tears.

It’s as if it breaks a spell- at once, Aragon is at Kitty’s side, exclaiming over her cuts, helping her to her feet. Anne, quiet at last, shrinks back against Cathy, clinging to her hand- she can’t bea the sight of blood. Anna is picking up the bigger pieces of glass, piling them under the table and out of the way-

Jane though is coming towards her- unlike the others, she doesn’t look shocked or angry, she just looks concerned.

‘Oh love’

Joan shrinks back from her- she doesn’t deserve comfort, not after shouting at everyone, not after hurting Kitty. She is sure Jane must be furious with her- she knows, everyone knows how close she is to the youngest queen (although she doesn’t like to think about it for too long, about how she must surely come a distant second in comprison).

She flinches away, braces herself for angry words, perhaps even blows- but rather than grabbing her, shaking her, Jane pulls her close, and once she’s wrapped up in her arms, she can’t really find the energy or desire to detach herself again.

She sobs weakly against Jane’s shoulder, even as her own mind screams at her to stop being so pathetic, go and fix things, go and apologise-

‘It’s alright-’ Jane’s warm fingers smoothe hair away from her hot face, and then she frowns. ‘Love, you’re burning up- are you sure you’re alright?’

It’s patently not true but she nods into Jane’s neck anyway. (She still isn’t sure why the woman doesn’t look more angry with her for hurting her favourite, why Jane is even bothering about her when Kitty obviously needs her.)

‘Ok. I think we should get you home-’ Jane is already beginning to steer her towards the door (as if it doesn’t matter that she’s destroyed a valuable piece of equipment and scared everybody and hurt Kitty too- as if she matters).

In the foyer, Jane gently presses her down into a seat and slides her phone back into her bag.

‘The taxi should be here soon- I’m just going to go check on Kitty, ok love?’

Of course. Of course Jane isn’t actually going to take her home- she feels a flush of hot embarassment for even thinking that she would.

Of course Jane just wanted to get her out of there, so that she’d be able to give Kitty all her attention. It makes sense, after all.

Still, she can’t keep her nod from being a trifle shaky- home feels such a long way away, and she’s so tired, so out of it. She knows that she deserves being sent away in disgrace but it still hurts….

When the taxi beeps outside, it’s all she can do to drag herself up, she’s shivering so much. She can barely see straight- the door sways in front of her, she reaches out a hand to steady herself, misjudges, she stumbles-

‘Oh! I’ve got you-’

Jane’s arm catches her, steadies her.

Why is she here?

She’s leading Joan out, helping her into the taxi- but then instead of going back inside, she’s climbing in beside her, giving the taxi driver the address-

‘Why-’ Her voice is slower than usual. ‘Why are you….here?’

Jane looks confused. ‘We’re going home darling. You got ill at the studio-’

‘No, I-’ She can’t express herself properly. ‘Why are you- Kitty needs you-’

Jane’s brow furrows- and for a moment Joan wonders if she’s about to make the taxi driver stop, as if she’s realising the mistake she’s made….but then she sighs and wraps her arm around Joan’s shoulders, pulling her against her chest.

‘You need me too sweetheart.’

‘But-’ But Kitty’s the favourite, she wants to say, Kitty’s the one that lives with you- But Jane shakes her head, as if she can tell what is about to come.

‘No. I take care of both my girls and right now, you need me much more than Kitty does. You’re not well, sweetheart.’

‘I- hurt her-’ She feels like she might cry again and she’s not even sure why, if it’s the fever, the memory of Kitty’s look of pain, Jane calling her one of her girls-

‘You didn’t mean to darling. It was an accident.’

‘I-’

‘Besides, she’s fine.’ Jane smiles reassuringly. ‘All she needed was a plaster- and I think the others can manage that without me.’

‘But still-’

‘Hush.’ Jane keeps her voice very gentle, very soothing. ‘I promise you. You’re not in trouble, no one is angry with you sweetheart. No one at all and least of all me or Kitty. She understands you need looking after.’

She’s planning on saying more, arguing more- but then Jane’s cool hand is against her forehead and it feels so good, she gives a little sigh and Jane chuckles.

‘We’ll be home soon- I’ll get you a nice cold flannel for your poor head.You’ll feel much better when you’re tucked up in bed.’

She’d argue, she’d argue that she’s fine to work- but she just doesn’t have the energy. She decides, for once, that perhaps Jane might be right...