#also i did figure she was queer before but it's fucking sad that this is how she felt she had to finally say it outright

[difeisheng]

knew i was right for looking up to lucy pevensie from childhood

[the-kestrels-feather]

I know I'm SO late to the party, but In light of the hbomberguy video, I wanted to drop a list of some of my favorite video essayists on here who are all great. Some are well known, some of them not, but all deserve a lot of love thrown their way!

Any creators I know are Queer will have a * next to their names if that's what you're looking for! (Note some of them might not have a star that should, that's not me trying to invalidate anybody I just didn't know, please feel free to correct me!)

Dominic Noble- book content! Has a series called Lost in Adaptation that judges how faithful movie adaptations of books were to their original source material, but also does some reviews/summaries as well. Very publicly denounced JKR after she was revealed to be a TERF and stated he will no longer review anything by her on his channel. Also deleted ALL of his HP videos after finding out she was a TERF (which were his most popular videos), so I have a really deep respect for him tbh. Former Channel Awesome member who publicly denounced them on several occasions, and an all around swell guy.

*Overly Sarcastic Productions- channel run by 2 people who go by Red and Blue. History and Mythology/Literature content, as well as analysis of tropes and media! I've been told their History content can be a bit... Iffy, but I'm not a Historian so I don't know, however if they get something wrong they're good about correcting it for what that counts for. Very interesting to listen to, I've watched Red's Videos roughly 100 times each. Also has a podcast.

*Strange Aeons- fandom/Tumblr history mostly, as well as some history, and weird businesses too. Reads a LOT of cursed content for her channel.

*Lindsay Ellis- Media/film analysis. obviously not as unknown as some of the others on here, but I absolutely adore her content and will forever be sad that she isn't on YouTube anymore.

Cruel World Happy Mind- MLM/explanation of controversial figures. I'm not sure how best to explain her content, but she seems genuinely lovely and is interesting to listen to. Also a victim of Illuminaughtii's ire and deserves some love. The video she made on Blair is a bit outdated since she made it at the start of when this all came to light, but imo it's definitely worth a watch. Her talking about her interaction with Blair genuinely broke my heart.

*Night Mind- Analog horror/Unfiction/ARG content! Analyzes and explains various internet horror pieces, and also has a very nice voice to listen to.

*Lola Sebastian- Film/Media Analysis!

Li Speaks- Deep dives into various nostalgia, mainly flash games!

*Princess Weekes- Media/film/literary analysis!

abitfrank- summaries and analysis of various "darker" children's content such as Coraline (book and movie), Nightmare Before Christmas, and various dark fairy tales

Hello Future Me- writing advice and world building information!

Curious Archive- deep dives into the various bestiaries of video games and the animals in real life that they're similar to, I love his Subnautica video!

In Praise of Shadows- Horror media analysis! Will often focus on specific franchises, but also covers things like horror comics and tropes as well.

Wait in the Wings- theatre! Deep dives into the back stories behind the production of various musicals! His video on Rogers the Musical that he did for April Fool's last year is comedy fucking gold

Weird Reads With Emily Louise- conspiracy theory/cult/weird thing analysis! Looks at things from an objective and skeptical view, and is very in depth. Recently served as a consulting producer on an HBO Max documentary on the Love has Won cult.

Ask a Mortician- death content! Covers various historical events and darker stories of death from the view of a Mortician.

*Izzzyzz- deep dives into fandoms, as well as well as different video games and kids' virtual worlds.

Disney Dan- Disney content! Covers the history of different mascot costumes at Disney and Disney-like parks! Has collaborated with Definctland in the past too!

Yesterworld- theme park content! Discusses history behind rides and parks, as well as some Disney movies. I think has also collaborated with Defunctland and Disney Dan?

Legal Eagle- legal content! Breaks down news about ongoing legal cases in a way that feels approachable. I like him because both my parents are paralegals and his videos have helped me understand what they mean when they're talking about work a little bit

Super Eye patch Wolf- media video essays! Mostly about anime/manga and video games, but also covers things like influencer scams and pro wrestling. His "what the internet did to Garfield" video is SO GOOD

*Jessie Gender- Media Analysis, loves Star Trek

*Laura Crone- Media Analysis video essays, her videos on the Swan Princess are fucking great I highly recommend!

*Lady Emily- Media Analysis, did a whole video on Spuder-Man turn off the dark that is SO good. Co writer for Sarah Z

Tale Foundry- covers different forms of fiction, their xenofiction video is great, as is their Angelarium one!

Defunctland- Theme Park ride and Children's TV History channel!

Jenny Nicholson- one of the sort of "big three" commentary channels with Lindsay Ellis and Sarah Z imo, covers all sorts of stuff but her most recent one is a 3 hour video on the theme park Evermore Park!

*Sarah Z- Fandom history and Media analysis! I really enjoy their content, the Johnlock Conspiracy and DashCon videos are my favorites!

Li Speaks- Flash games/virtual world analysis mostly! She has a very soothing voice to listen to, if you played like. Any MMOs or virtual worlds growing up I Highly recommend. I've watched her video on Horseland SO many times.

*Codex Entry- Video game coverage! Her videos on Pathologic are great if you're like me and wanted more after the Hbomberguy video!

Wendigoon- ARG/Spooky content! One of the early proponents of the Mandela Catalog and best known for his conspiracy theory iceberg, but has also covered things like various weird/unsolved crimes, Assassination conspiracies, and other things. His videos on Faith, Blood Meridian, The Mandela Catalog, and his Religion/Cult iceberg are some of my favorites

Dino Diego- Dinosaur fiction, like movies, video games, books, short stories, etc. his 2 videos on West of Eden and Winter in Eden are two of my favorites!

Haley Whipjack- I don't know how to describe her content really? She does a lot of deep dives (her Shrek one is my favorite), currently doing a recap of Once Upon a Time by season that is very fun. She's an elementary school teacher by day (that's not me dozing her she talks about it on her channel), and so she has fun unhinged teacher energy!

Other channels that are a sort of collection of different people talking about different things rather than 1 or 2:

TEDx

PBS

The Exploring Series

[dyke-a-saur]

Finished watching Heartbreak High and I gotta say, I feel like they pulled off Gen Z High School really well. Like I could go to school with these absolute agents if chaos.

Okay but important business:

Amerie

I loved her the second she popped up on screen. Her energy, her personality, and her friendship with Harper. It was just the best. At times tho, I could see why the other characters antagonized her. After all, it was just as much her map as Harper’s and she put people in awful situations. Not to mention the reveal that she failed to let Harper in, then had the nerve to say she’d always be there. She even did the same to Malakai (tho it’s clear she acted out of trauma from her and Harper’s friendship gone sour)

Dusty

Fuck you. Youse a bitch, a snake, and truly a shit stain on the trousers of humanity. Work on yourself. Big soulful eyes tho.

Ca$h

Arguably the second most emotionally intelligent character in the show? Definitely better at it than Darren and his relationship was so refreshing? It was neat to see it not be a “I like dudes, oh no,” storyline and instead “I’m ace and just need to better express that to my partner who I love and adore”. Also that “I love you scene” was peak ghetto and I loved it. Darren’s Baby Daddy really behind bars, huh?

Malakai

This man. Is so fine. So sweet. And so funny. I love the way he gets to know Amerie and then befriends her and then becomes her first. And even if he handled the peer pressure to talk about the details poorly, he wanted to do right by her. I also loved how they explored the kinship he had with OTHER BLA(c)K CHARACTERS. It was nice to see how much he healed by being in his community and being surrounded by love for his culture. Missy being a big part of that was beautiful.

Harper

I did get the "spoiler" that she went through "something traumatizing" right before the start of the show, then later got more clues from Tumblr. So i had more patience with her character at the start, being honest. But goddamn it was so hard to watch her shut Amerie out and lash out at her. It also sucked seeing her antagonized in the second half because if she could've reached out or accepted people reaching in, then I feel like shit could've been handled better. But after seeing the events of "that night" I could totally get how and why she would want Amerie out of her life. Fake as hell for not owning up to the Incest Map tho. I was constantly whisper-yelling at my phone "girl, get it together!'

Quinni

No notes. Love her. She's the best. Also the most emotionally intelligent character (not a surprise and fuck you Sasha). She helps so many characters process their emotions, make up, figure out wwhat they want, and still stands on her own as a great character with her own life going on. I'm NT, but from what I've seen on Tumblr, most ND people see her as good rep.

Spider

Fuck this guy. Racist, sexist, (not as homophobic as previously assumed), and awful. But I love it. I love when he gets told to shut up. I love it when he's being awful and the other characters are like "yeah, fuck this dude". But also, he was weirdly complex? like the scene where he would've gotten it on with Amerie makes a lot of sense in context of the rest of his behavior. He's overcompensating because someone he genuinely liked, and cared for to an extent, hurt him in a vulnerable place and treated him like a dissapointment. Doesn't give him the right to react with daily verbal abuse, but his character makes more sense that way. I'd like to see him grow from that, but I'm not sure how.

Star of the Show

They're here, they're queer, they're unapologetically BLACK, they. Are. DARREN.

Okay jokes aside, I love this bitch. They're not only a great friend, but they (mostly) know what they want in life. It's sad to see Darren be dismissed as “too much” in their home, and you can really see how its affected the way they view their ability to be loved and cherished. So seeing them find that in Ca$h and watch the relationshp between the two grow was beautiful. It hurt to see Darren hurt Ca$h, like they gay ass ain't know what the "A" in "LGBTQIA" stood for, but that growth and intracommunity hurt was important to see.

Others

Ant annoyed me but he seemed like he could do/be better if he wasn’t around the rest of the guys. Sasha pissed me off, but I hope losing Quinni was enough to actually get her to look at her self-righteous tendencies and work on herself, I wanna see her go far. Missy was a fucking icon and I love her. Ms. Jojo is the love of my life and fuck Spider/Ant/Dusty (nigga) for screwing her over like that. Mrs. Spigot is my literal soulmate.

I think that’s all for now? But yeah go watch it if you haven’t already. It is another show focusing on the sex lives of teens but it feels more authentic than anything we’ve been given before.

[schrijverr]

A Behind the Scenes of: Corroded Coffin Pt. 2

This time with Eddie as special guest, Jonathan and Eddie give an insight into Corroded Coffin just after they made it big, with a cameo of Steve.

(You don't need to read part 1 to get this, but here is the link)

On AO3.

Ships: Steddie, Jargancy

Warnings: homophobia mention

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi, I’m Jonathan Byers, the main photographer and editor of A Collection of Queer Photography. And today Eddie is here with me to continue looking at Corroded Coffin photos from the book,” Jonathan starts the video.

“Hello everyone,” Eddie greets the camera with a big grin, used to being in the position. He waves excitedly, his bracelets jingling happily. He looks very much like a comfortable old rocker with chains around his necks, fingers filled with rings and an old band shirt, his hair cascading down his shoulders. Eddie takes the book and flips it open on the page with the first tab as he exclaims: “Let’s rock ‘n roll.”

“Yes, let’s,” Jonathan agrees, looking fondly amused.

“Should I read the title and year, has that been the vibe?” Eddie asks.

“We have been trying that, yeah,” Jonathan says.

“Alrighty, so the first one is A Promise To Return taken in ‘92,” Eddie says. “It’s when we first went on tour, which was very exciting and terrifying.”

On screen a photo appears of Eddie on the lowest step of the tour bus, leaning out and giving Steve a kiss. They’re clinging to each other, neither of them wanting to let go. The way they’re dressed contrasting each other.

“This is a sweet photo,” Eddie says. “I know it’s cliché and overdone, but it is. I fucking missed Stevie so much when I was away, despite the fact that I was living the dream.”

“I think you can also see this here,” Jonathan says. “I really like that you’re in the bus and Steve’s on the ground, it kind of creates this separation, like you’re stepping in a new world and Steve can’t come with you. He knows he should let you go and say goodbye, but he can’t help but cling to you and keep you close, even if it’s only for a second. Same goes for you.”

Eddie studies the photo again as he nods to himself. “Huh,” he comments. “You always have stories in your photos. We’ve worked together a lot, but I always manage to forget the thought you put into these. It’s amazing, man. Like you can see it and you’d know if it wasn’t there, but it’s subtle.”

“It’s not really that deep,” Jonathan blushes, waving away the compliment.

“Yeah it is,” Eddie says as Argyle adds: “Let the man compliment you, buttercup.”

“Alright, alright,” Jonathan grins as he rolls his eyes. Then he moves on: “Next to it we have Hope of a Wave Back, which doesn’t have the band in it really, but I feel like it fits.”

“It fits,” Eddie agrees.

Hope of a Wave Back appears on screen. It’s of Robin and Steve from the back, both waving at the back of the tour bus. The windows are tinted, so you can’t see what’s going on inside. Steve is looking a little dejected seen in the slope of his shoulders, Robin has a comforting arm around his waist.

“For the record, I was waving back like an idiot, while Gareth and Jeff tried to open the window,” Eddie says. “Those tour bus windows are difficult to open and we didn’t manage to figure it out until the third city.”

Jonathan snorts and you can hear Argyle giggles as well. Eddie pouts, but he does look upset as he defends himself: “Those windows are difficult on purpose, I swear.”

“Sure, dude,” Jonathan grins, before turning back to the photo and saying: “But it did work out to make a pretty sad photo to represent the not knowing that comes with long distance. So, you’re forgiven.”

“How gracious,” Eddie snorts. “But I do like this one. Robin is the absolute best, I can’t imagine her not being there. It’s weird sometimes how much she and Steve overlap. Remember when their appendixes burst on the same day? Like what the fuck.”

“That was a little creepy, yeah,” Jonathan agrees.

“It was weird shit, babe, you can say it,” Argyle adds from behind the camera.

“Really weird shit,” Eddie repeats as he flips the page to the next tab, at the page he lights up and exclaims: “Ahh, when Stevie and Rob and you flew out to come see us in Indy. That was one of the best nights of my life. The difference between Robs and Stevie here is hilarious.”

On screen appears 5:00 AM Flight, which is of an excited Steve coming out of the front door with a suitcase. He seems to be vibrating out of his skin. Next to the door is Robin leaning against the wall, her own bag at her feet. She looks like she is about ten seconds from passing out and wondering why the hell she is doing this to herself.

“Steve was a little bit more excited about the early hour,” Jonathan agrees with a fond amused look.

“Yeah, that’s because he’s insane and sometimes goes running that earlier,” Eddie says, the most sappy, in love look on his face.

“But we’re talking about the band, so let’s talk about this one,” Jonathan points at the next page.

“Stevie is basically part of the band,” Eddie pouts, but dutifully reads: “The Corroded Coffin Cheer Squad taken in ‘92.”

The photo that appears is taken at the concert from behind Lucas, Max, Robin and Steve. They’re in a set off area, a chair has been set down for Max, who can’t stand for that long. All of them are cheering. Behind their silhouettes is Corroded Coffin. Eddie is screaming at the crowd, looking alive. Chris and Jeff are sharing a microphone and Gareth is throwing water over himself, having lost his shirt.

“I love taking photos at concert from the audience’s perspective,” Jonathan comments. “It shows a band at their best in a sense and this one is special, because the audience are people that you know personally, which adds a layer. Bands performing often isn’t their private selves, but it’s more them than at an interview or some shoot.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “For me, my musics are filled with personal stuff, they mean a lot to me and the boys and I always made sure our shows were something we could be proud of. You lay a lot more bear at a show than people realize. It’s nice to get to share that.”

His voice gets a little bit softer and he adds: “I’m glad Steve got to come to a few of our big shows and see it. That I got to share it with him. My baby is so brave, you know. He’s been through so much, we always knew he couldn’t travel with us, but when he could come and see, those shows were the best.”

“I think you can see your delight in this one,” Jonathan points. “Spotted Steve in the Crowd, there honestly isn’t another way to describe your expression.”

Eddie cackles at that, head thrown back as a new image appears of Eddie on the center of the stage. He is wearing leather pants with chains hanging off it and his cuff belt. He doesn’t have a shirt on, but he is wearing a cut off army jacket. He has gotten more tattoos over the years, which cover some of his scars. His fingers are around his guitar as he plays, however he isn’t singing, instead grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling from under his sweaty hair.

“What can I say, I missed him,” Eddie shrugs, twinkle in his eyes. “And I was going to make him my fiance. Let me be gay in peace.”

“I have been witness to you being gay for years,” Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’ve let you be horny for your man in peace for many years. Know how I suffered.”

“You willingly photographed us being horny on multiple occasions,” Eddie shoots back.

Jonathan flushes and ducks into himself as he pouts and mumbles something about them being aesthetically pretty and photogenic.

“And he had a brief crush on you,” Argyle adds without shame from behind the camera.

“Argyle!” Jonathan exclaims, not that upset, but more surprised.

Eddie has a delighted grin on his face as he prods Jonathan and asks: “Really? Did you? When? How long? Oh my god, this is hilarious. Why didn’t you say?”

“Because it was fucking embarrassing and it only lasted about a month or two before it blew over,” Jonathan wails, a little embarrassed. “Just drop it.”

“Okay, okay, but I am going to tell Stevie when he gets here,” Eddie gives in.

“Of course you do,” Jonathan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t sound that upset as he snatches the book out of Eddie’s hands and flips to the next page.

On screen a photo series appears of behind stage at the concert, telling a story from left to right. First they’re all big to cover everything, but they’re shrunken down on screen so that you can still see Jonathan and Eddie.

The most left photograph is of Eddie, taken from behind Steve, so his polo wearing back is in it as well. Eddie is yelling, practically glowing with happiness, having just spotted Steve. He is already handing his guitar to a stage hand in favor of paying attention to Steve.

In the one next to it Eddie is running towards Steve, by the looks of it he is sprinting. Steve is doing much the same. It is very dramatic, but also cute.

The set continues with a photograph of Eddie flying through the air as if he is literally launching himself at Steve. Though it seems like Steve doesn’t mind, he has stopped running to widen his stance and brace himself.

It ends with an image of both of them sprawled on the ground, Eddie on top of Steve. Eddie has a hand on the back of Steve’s head to protect him from smacking is against the floor. His knees are on either side of Steve, who has wrapped both his arms around Eddie’s waist. They’re making out heavily. In the background you can see Jeff rolling his eyes.

“This is Reunion a photo series taken right after the show,” Jonathan says.

“I was so happy to see him,” Eddie coos, taking the book back from Jonathan to smile at the photos, then he suddenly asks: “Is this why people think we’re dramatic?”

“What?” Jonathan choke-laughs.

“People have been calling us dramatic online, which is pretty fair all things considered, but I feel like this is mild for us, but it has been cited to me many times in my replies,” Eddie explains.

“Eddie,” Jonathan says in a tone that screams, I love you, but… “You and Steve are two of the most dramatic people I know. You literally tackled him.”

“He knew I was coming,” Eddie defends himself.

“That makes it worse,” Jonathan informs him with a sympathetic look.

Eddie looks over to Argyle, who explains: “That means you did this often enough he saw it coming, making it doubly dramatic, bro.”

“But it’s not the most dramatic thing, we do worse,” Eddie says.

“Not helping yourself,” Jonathan says.

“Just accept it, man,” Argyle agrees.

“Fine, but if this is dramatic, I’m scared for every interview I’ve done where I told people I do worse,” Eddie tells them.

“Don’t be, it gives you character,” Jonathan assures him, before turning back to the photo series and saying: “What I really love is how excited you two look and your hand on the back of Steve’s head. It’s again a small detail, but even caught up in the moment, you remember to think about stuff like that. Those things really speak to me.”

Eddie puffs up proudly in a subconscious manner as he says: “Of course, I’m not going to let him get hurt in a way that he doesn’t want to.”

“We know, Eddie,” Jonathan tells him, patting his shoulder. “I also like Jeff being done with your shit, that says a lot about the band as a whole I think.”

“He looks fond,” Eddie argues.

“Sure he does,” Jonathan replies, obviously not agreeing with Eddie, but not saying it as he flips the page, telling the audience: “The series technically continues on the next page, but it deserved its own special place.”

“Totally agree,” Eddie grins, eyes lovingly trailing over the image.

In the photo, Eddie is still sweaty from the show and Steve’s hair is messed up from the make out session on the floor they just had. Steve has scrambled upright after the rather dramatic greeting, however Eddie is still on the floor, though now on one knee with a box in his hand. In the box a ring glitters. Nothing fancy, but very classy. Something you’d get for your high school sweetheart. Eddie is grinning softly and hopefully, while Steve has both hands clasped over his mouth, eyes watering, as if he can’t believe this is really happening.

“He Said Yes is the title,” Jonathan says, when it starts to look like Eddie isn’t going to say anything.

After a moment, Eddie speaks up in a chocked up voice: “I sometimes still can’t believe it you know. He’s just the best person on fucking earth and he agreed to spend the rest of his life together with me. We have a house. Kids. Family. We’re actually married. Like it’s so crazy and I love him so much.”

“You need a tissue, brocacho?” Argyle asks from behind the camera, Jonathan awkwardly patting Eddie on the back.

There is a cut to Eddie dabbing away tears with a tissue as he grins to the camera and says: “Sorry about that people, I just love my husband very much. Bagging him is my greatest accomplishment in life, honestly.”

“Of course it is,” Jonathan snorts, before saying: “You did propose in the most Eddie-like way possible.”

“Steve liked my proposal,” Eddie sniffs. “He says it was romantic.”

“Didn’t you plan on proposing under the stars after a shower?” Argyle asks.

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” Eddie shrugs. “He just looked to beautiful and I couldn’t resist, alright. Look at him here. In his stupid little polo and fluffy hair, I’m weak for him. Weak, I tell you.”

“It was pretty romantic,” Jonathan gives in. “I like how hopeful you look. Like despite the fact there was no way Steve was going to say no, you still were worried about it. The second Steve needed to get himself together nearly killed you, but you’re not so nervous that you’re unable to stop grinning.”

“God, I nearly shit myself,” Eddie laughs. “I was trailer trash and Steve seemed untouchable for so many years, but he’s also Stevie, my baby, the guy I cleaned the trailer with and who drove me to gigs when my van broke down, who braided my hair because he was bored and turns into a backpack whenever he can.”

“Yeah, you needn’t have worried for a second,” Jonathan says as he flips the page and asks: “You are probably dying to talk about this one, right?”

“Our wedding!” Eddie exclaims. “Let’s wait until Steve and Nancy come back from their shopping trip, Stevie loves talking about our wedding.”

“You sure he would want to?” Jonathan asks.

“Like 99% and if he doesn’t we can record it anyways and I’ll tell you all about it in as much detail as you’d like,” Eddie promises with a big grin.

“Alright,” Jonathan agrees easily and flips further. He says: “Page 152 and 153 are the last pages I want to talk about, since other Corroded Coffin photos aren’t taken by me. Maybe we’ll figure something else out if people are really curious. But these are when I took behind the scenes photos for one of their albums, but the ones that didn’t make the cut.”

“First one is Hard at Work taken in ‘93,” Eddie says.

On screen a photo appears of Gareth lounging on the studio couch, tapping his drumsticks together. Eddie is sitting on the back of the couch, pencil in his mouth and notebook in his lap. His hair is up in a bun and he is dressed in a tank top and ripped jeans, no shoes.

“I want to defend us and say that lounging around is a big part of our writing process,” Eddie says. “We wrote some good lyrics on that couch. But most of it was written late at night when I couldn’t sleep or when we’re hanging out outside the studio.”

“It was a little too casual for what the label wanted,” Jonathan agrees. “But admittedly a more accurate representation of the writing process. Page 152 is entirely the writing process.”

“Next one is Jotting Down Notes,” Eddie moves onto the next photo. It is of Jeff with his guitar in his lap. He is leaning over it to write down some notes. He’s dressed in a Corroded Coffin shirt. His hair is longer now and twisted into locks.

“You all were so excited about having merch,” Jonathan recalls fondly.

“Yeah, we were,” Eddie agrees, a little nostalgic. “Jeff once broke his guitar when writing down notes, because he’s a fucking idiot. I love him so much.”

“Didn’t he nearly break his guitar here too?” Jonathan asks.

“Probably,” Eddie laughs. “Jeff tries to be very professional and like he’s above all of our bullshit, but that’s his celebrity persona, don’t let him fool you. He’s as much a dork and an idiot as the rest of us. He just hides it better.”

Jonathan laughs a little at that, before Eddie moves on, reading: “Getting Inspiration.”

The photo is of Chris and Eddie smoking a joint in the alley behind the studio. They’re hunched over, as if trying to hide what they’re doing, but they’re not very successful at it.

Eddie looks into the camera. “To all the young fans and old fans, who have asked me what some of our lyrics mean. If we have avoided answering for this long, it’s probably because they don’t, we were just high when we wrote them. I have explained in detail when a song was a metaphor for me sucking my husband’s dick, I’m not going to shy away from any other topics. Please don’t do this me.”

Both Argyle and Jonathan have started cackling throughout Eddie’s little spiel. Argyle giggles: “I liked your nonsense songs, they speak to me.”

“Thank you, Argyle,” Eddie grins.

Jonathan now addresses the audience: “This one wasn’t allowed to be published for obvious reasons. Somehow despite all the hard drug scandals, they didn’t want this picture out there.”

“Very rude honestly,” Eddie laughs, before moving onto the next one: “This is on the next page the first one, named Booth Buddies.”

It is is of the entire band around a microphone, headphones on their heads. They’re doing the backup vocals. It’s a small booth and they all have their arms wrapped around each other, so they can’t fall over.

“That was fun,” Eddie recalls with a big grin. “We nearly fell like twenty times, but we got to screaming backing vocals. It turned out great.”

“Yeah, I really like this photo. You all look so happy and carefree,” Jonathan says with a smile, before that falls away. “The label didn’t want to use this one, because they thought it was too intimate and would fan unwanted rumors.”

“AKA, they thought it looked gay,” Eddie frowns. “Which it wasn’t. Me and Gar are, the photo isn’t. It’s practically a crime to like your friends, honestly. I appreciated the opportunities they gave us, but man was I glad to be rid of them.”

“We all were,” Jonathan says. “Like this one of Robs, they wanted to use it to create media buzz, but Robin didn’t want it.”

“That was the worst,” Eddie says.

On screen a photo appears taken from the other side of the glass from the recording booth. Eddie is leaning over all the buttons, grinning wildly. Through the glass you can see Robin, trumpet to her lips.

“I never figured out why they didn’t end up using it anyway,” Jonathan says.

“Uhm, me- me, Stevie and Chris might have broken in after you told us and destroyed the copy they had of it,” Eddie confesses.

Jonathan’s eyes go wide as he exclaims: “You what!” before the video cuts.

When they get back, it seems like nothing has happened at all. Jonathan just says: “This one we named Chirping Bird, because Robin is also a bird and she’s making music with a brass instrument, so using air.”

“A lot of fans thought she was my wife, because we credited Robin Munson on the CD,” Eddie laughs. “She extorted so many free shit out of me under the guise of me having to be a good husband, which is so rude, since she never does that with Steve and he was her husband.”

“Steve didn’t need to be extorted,” Jonathan points out.

“True,” Eddie snorts.

“I also like that you’re in the directing booth here. You look so thrilled and pleased with it all. I think it shows your friendship as well as your dedication to music,” Jonathan says.

“It does,” Eddie agrees. “I like it too. We didn’t really keep with the order of the page, which one do we do next.”

“Gareth on the Drums?” Jonathan suggest and Eddie nods.

The photo is of Gareth behind his drums, surrounded by microphones as he goes nuts on his drum set. It is clearly not the first take, because his gray shirt is soaked in sweat, but he’s grinning despite the exertion.

“Gar hated that drum solo,” Eddie says. “He wrote it himself, but doing it was harder than expected. It took him so long to get it right. He collapsed on the ground when he finally got it.”

“He did,” Jonathan says. “The one used instead was when he took his shirt off a little later. Fan service and all that, but I liked the one with the shirt too.”

“It’s a good photo, he looks very hot,” Eddie winks, very happy with his pun, before clapping his hands and excitedly saying: “Let’s talk about my baby now.”

“Yeah, yeah, the other one is Surprise Visit,” Jonathan says. “Steve came with Robin to record her stuff, which was very well received.”

“It was great,” Eddie grins happily.

Surprise Visit is of the same couch in the studio. The entire band is sitting around it, but the focus is on Steve, who is sitting on Eddie’s lap, Eddie’s tattooed arms around him. Both of them are grinning, as the others look fondly amused.

Before either one can say anything there is some noise in the background. Jonathan smiles at whatever is happening, while Eddie exclaims: “Sweetheart, baby, come here,” as he makes grabby hands. “We were just talking about you.”

Steve’s voice is muffled as he replies: “Oh you’re doing that YouTube thingy right. Only saying good things about me, I hope.”

“Of course,” Eddie promises, tugging Steve into frame and onto his lap so he can plant multiple kisses right on his face.

At the gesture Steve giggles, kisses back, before he peers into the book and smiles: “Ahw, I loved coming to see you work.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, a little breathless. It’s unclear if it’s awe or from the kisses.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “You’re very hot when you’re concentrated and passionate and you know I love it when you sing.”

“Flatter me more,” Eddie laughs. “Wanna join us?”

“I can?” Steve asks.

“Jup,” Eddie tells him, punctuating the sentence with a kiss on Steve’s nose. “We wanted to talk about our wedding day after, care for an opportunity to do so without Jonathan being able to tell you to shut up?”

“Hell yeah, you know I do,” Steve grins.

It cuts and now Steve is sitting next to Eddie, close enough so they can share his mic. Jonathan says: “What I like about this photo is how effortlessly Steve is taken into the crowd. More casually dressed, their styles still aren’t compatible, but not as glaringly obvious. And Steve is quite literally embraced as he is. I think that’s neat.”

“On his little throne,” Eddie grins, kissing Steve’s cheek.

“Your thighs are comfortable and that couch was gross,” Steve comments.

“It was a pretty gross couch,” Eddie says, pulling a face.

“Totally,” Jonathan agrees as well, before flipping ahead to the next tab. “This is Corroded Coffin at the Writing Table in 1994.”

The photo is of Corroded Coffin. They’re working on lyrics, sitting around the table at the Munson apartment. Gareth is chewing on his pen, while Eddie and Jeff both have a lollipop in their mouths. A nicotine patch is visible on Eddie’s arm and Gareth’s neck.

“Oef, when I quit smoking,” Eddie says, recognizing it. “That was a rough time. Jeff and Gareth tried too, but it’s just so hard. I don’t blame them for starting again. Though Jeff is trying to quit again, so that’s good.”

“You were all very grumpy,” Steve recalls fondly, pinching Eddie’s side. “But I am glad you quit.”

“I’m glad you were there with me to get me through,” Eddie replies looking sappily into Steve’s eyes, as next to them Jonathan looks to where Argyle must be, looking the every bit the part of third wheel.

Jonathan clears his throat and only Steve has the decency to look apologetic, while Eddie goes on as if nothing is wrong and says; “We were all quite miserable. The album we made was quite a drag, honestly. Weirdly very nice to listen to when you’re high, but like, bad mood high.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve giggles.

“But you love me?” Eddie asks.

“Of course,” Steve tells him.

“Love you too.”

Jonathan doesn’t even bother with a smooth transition, instead he clears his throat and says: “I like that it’s less forced. You guys have become good at making any place homey, but it’s more casual, everyone is less aware of the fact that there’s a camera.”

“It’s always nicer when we get to come together in our own home,” Eddie agrees. “I think we wrote better songs then too.”

“I also liked it when you stayed home to write,” Steve says, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder as Eddie’s hand naturally drifts up to pet the top of his head.

Jonathan moves onto the last tab in the book, flipping the page as he says: “This is a bit of a long title, but it fits. It’s called Europe Tour (If They Manage to Drag the Front Man There).”

The photo that appears on screen is of Eddie being pulled away by Gareth, hand reaching for Steve, who is reaching back, while Robin holds his other hand and Dustin has a hand on Steve’s shoulder. It kind of looks like a dramatic Baroque painting. The ones not pulling Eddie or holding Steve are waving.

“One plus side of your dramatics is that it makes for great pictures,” Jonathan says.

“We’re not that dramatic,” Steve frowns.

“Council has decided otherwise. Sorry, baby,” Eddie informs him.

“Homophobia,” Steve pouts, before saying: “But I do like this photo. I was very excited for you, but fuck did I not want you to go.”

“I didn’t want to go either,” Eddie tells him, leaning his head against Steve. “Jonny boy here captured that very well.”

“It was kind of hard to miss,” Jonathan snorts. “But it is a very good visual. I love photos that tell a story and this one sure does tell a story.”

“It does, I had a bruise on my shoulder from where Gar pulled on me,” Eddie says.

“Robs left nail indents on my hand,” Steve laughs.

“God, why are you two like this,” Jonathan asks no one in particular as he face palms.

“Any more or was this all?” Eddie asks, checking the side of the book for more tabs.

“That was it for now, since there’s only the Europe tour from the Corroded Coffin career and I didn’t go there,” Jonathan explains. “I was planning on doing this solo and I can’t really talk about where I wasn’t at.”

“And this video is already pretty long,” Argyle tells them from behind the camera.

“Then we’re stopping this one and doing our wedding next,” Eddie grins excitedly as Steve lets out a small cheer, the two of them high fiving.

Next to them, Jonathan looks a little like he’s regretting his life choices as he signs off: “That is a behind the scene of the photos about Corroded Coffin. Thank you so much for being here Eddie and Steve.”

“Was a pleasure,” Eddie grins. Then waves at the camera, Steve following his example, as Eddie says: “Bye everybody! Don’t forget to give Jon here some love and shit, he’s great.”

“Thanks,” Jonathan says, before also saying goodbye.

~~

A/N:

I will be doing the steddie wedding after, but it might take some time, please be patient :D

[confusedspaceotter]

Daily avatrice analysis (day 6)

day1 day2 day3 day4 day5 day6 day7 day8 day9

*takes a deep breath* Oh god here we go

Ep 8 pt 2

Edit: originally I basically told the internt my life story but I've decided to create a separate post instead: here's the link

Now on the the actual analysis itself now that we are done being emotional

Here we have avatrcie reading each other's minds

Well more like Bea understood that if she wanted to help Ava figure out what she really wanted to say 

The best way to do it is to directly ask her

And here the little smirk from our dearest Avatrice captain Camila

Girl knows what she’s doing

Also if she had read sister Melanie’s entry does that mean Camila also knows French??

Well at least fluent enough the read the entry 

Damn  is Camila our secret multilingual queen??

Anway moving on 

Most people think that the moment Camila handed the journal to Bea, she took one look at it and she immediately knew Camila was trying to encourage her to come out to Ava?

I actually think here is where she found out sister Melanie is gay

Assuming Bea didn’t flip though the entry off camera 

Here we can see that she flip to another page then answer Ava, telling her Sister Melanie is gay

Meaning this information was not on the page where Camila left it open for Bea 

And this is a moment Bea realised what Camila is trying to encourage her to do

Look at how she took a breath before she said Lesbich

I think this is where Bea started to see herself in Sister Melanie’s shoes 

(Kinda like how when I see this scene and feel oh shit this is me)

And also I think that since she is putting herself in the story, it is remind her how she was treated as well

 That why at the end of the entry 

When she read the line “I felt unbound.Unburdened.I felt finally myself.”

You can see her voice cracking subtly 

Because this is what she secretly wants too

To feel unbound by her parents

Unburdened of the responsibilities in life

(In her case is whatever she was forced to be as a daughter of diplomats)

And to feel herself 

Just Beatrice 

And that’s just fucking relatable

Here you can see Bea trying to salvage whatever composure she had left but then Ava basically asks if she is okay and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore

Bea then kinda got “mad” at Ava

But is more like a defense mechanism

I bet she had this kind of conversation about her sexuality before and it definitely did not end well

So everything this topic came up she got defensive about it 

Which is understandable 

Bea’s I’m sorry is more about her feeling bad for her sudden outburst of emotions and sorry that Ava was there to witness it 

But I think she feel sorry that she is essentially coming to her because she view her sexuality as a burden rather than just part of her 

And Ava’s I’m sorry is her feeling bad seeing Bea crying plus I feel think those nuns at the orphanage would often made her apologize for something that’s not her fault so it could be a reflexive response 

And here’s comes one of the best lines in the show 

Along with this fucking smile 

The pain and sadness in her eyes turned into feeling grateful and full of love the moment she saw Ava

This right there ladies and gentlemen 

Is where Bea had her oh shit I’m in love moment 

Because hearing Ava’s response she realized she finally met the one person who would be happy for who she is 

And will embrace her fully 

And they say Avatrice is queer baiting smh 

Here we can see local gay nun gets accepted once and decide to ride of die with them

Not but seriously no way in hell that “us” means us here

I’m certain is just Bea’s fear that’s stopping her from saying me

And the “you mean that?” By Ava?

Baby girl get genuine care for once and she is hooked 

But it doesn’t stop the voiced in her head telling her this is not real she is lying so Ava asked for confirmation 

Which Bea will gladly replied with “you know I do”

Finally we have the not kiss scene

My thoughts on this can be summarized by this gif:

we move on to ep 9 tmr

btw i was thinking taking a short break after i'm done with s1 cause i have actual deadlines this week soooo

stay tuned for more:)

day7

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

ok so, i just finished ep 7 of tmbs season 2, and i know not everyone has liked this season, i get it, i really do, but i have loved every episode, so here's my favorite things about the season that i can remember before the last ep <3

Constance genuinely smiling at scamming people

Constance emotionally devastating Garrison while in her captivity. absolute gold

ok but... y'know Sebastian?? and that moment in like,,, ep 1 or 2 (i think?) where he just stares at the screen??? yeah, that shit had me genuinely terrified

Curtain's little dance to Stand Back by Stevie Nicks. incredible

on that note the soundtrack

especially Blue Öyster Cult

no seriously, i love Blue Öyster Cult

Martina !!

Garrison's little run away when Curtain's people find her,,, idk place? sad, weird underground house?

Kate referring to Milligan as her dad :')

Kate immediately knowing Milligan was Milligan again when he brought up her going behind his back and that "a lie by omission is still a lie"

Milligan just being a worried dad most of this season

Reynie being worried abt him & Sticky bc of the letters, all while Sticky is talking him up at school

ok but also,,, what was up with that? were the letters just not being delivered? or did i miss the explanation

Mr. Benedict giving the necklace to Constance while Rhonda and Number Two are cutting her cake with that,,, thing flashback

Martina and Kate hug <3

Jeffers securing the perimeter

The Twins. i for the life of me cannot remember their names, but i love when they are on my screen

Milligan running to go get fuel

Kate just Knowing something was wrong with Constance when she saw her smiling under the pretense of not scamming someone

Sticky Knowing something was wrong with Constance when she called him Sticky

The Danish couple. I can't explain it, but I love them ?

Jeffers being So Excited to have captured an associate of the Society and Curtain immediately shooting him down

elephant jokes

the Society scamming a bunch of people, Reynie feeling bad and making them return their winnings, and them getting money back for being honest???

trying to figure out where S.Q. is. my current theory is that Garrison won him in the custody agreement and he's just having a sleepover with his friends <3

the acting of these kids?!?! they are doing a wonderful job and i love them so <3

and that's it. again, ik that not everyone likes the new season and that it is likely done out of love for these characters and series, but i really, genuinely like the new season. and maybe that's because i'm just easy to please, or i see so much of these characters in myself, growing up queer and neurodivergent in an environment that from the age of fucking seven didn't feel safe. or i love these characters and story so much, because it feels like a warm blanket, because it reminds me of points in my childhood where i felt safe and wasn't bullied, that i'm willing to take anything i can get of them that i'm so willing to overlook it's flaws...

i'm not great with my words or fists, but i am willing to defend this show. i love it dearly and i know it's not perfect, i know it's not the books,,, but i love it

[goldendot3x]

Gap the Series finale thoughts and spoilers and feelings

Aaaaaaaaa, what an ending! Love it! There’s tears, laughter and drama. And a bit of a lecture. Lol

Mon slowly coming to the acceptance that break-up is imminent but cannot let go of the love she has for Sam. Watching the slow break up hurts so much. But goddamnit they did it in a beautiful way. Both at Sam’s house and also when she’s taking down The Sam Shrine.

Sam. I love you. I truly do. You are my blorbo, my sad little meow meow and my mess of a lesbian. But, for fuck sake, answer that damn phone! Or at least text back! Urgghhh (But I do understand why you’re being stupid right now and that is exactly why I love you)

I love The Gang. I truly do. All queers should have one group of friends like that. And they are so supportive of Mon it’s heartwarming. Their heart broke the same time as Mon’s does.

TeeYuki acknowledgement. Finally. And Tee, I love all your outfits. Why are you so handsome and dapper.

Neung oh Neung. Aside from Sam, you’re also an epitome of a traumatized child that still love their parents figure despite everything. I get you. I get you on so many levels.

Tee, stop trolling Jim. But don’t, actually. I love that you will troll and burn your friends mercilessly.

Kirk. Oh Kirk. Only NOW you realised it? Fuck you. I still hate you. You will never be redeemable in my eyes.

Evil Grandmother. Now upgraded to Disliked Grandmother.

Mon, how can you look so gorgeous while going through a heartbreak? Don’t believe Tee when she said you look awful.

It is true, Sam only bends her head and knees to 2 people. Grandma and Mon.

Disliked Grandmother, why does it needs 2 men to tell you about it before you believe about Sam’s happiness and stop controlling her life? Your 3 grandchildren have been telling you about it for years and years. The thing is, I totally understand where she is coming from. But damn it I still hate what she represents. Also, her relationship dynamics with Sam might hit too close to home.

Fuck, they both love each other so much.

Fuck. It’s the cheap jewelleries. She can’t let go. Sam still loves Mon so damn much.

I guess watching your grandchild slowly withering away is more sobering than suddenly receiving a phone call that another of your grandchild is in an accident, huh grandma? Still, I kinda get it, in a way. Song’s passing is sudden. And she did not know or have met Ice. In contrast, Sam’s withering away is slow and in front of her eyes. And she met Mon. And she has seen how Sam is when she’s with Mon. Also, Sam is her favourite grandchild, so it might be different.

Khun Phoom. A bit in-your-face-lecture there. I was expecting him to introduce Grandma to his boyfriend or something. Lol.

I understand why there is a need for the Khun Phoom character. Sometimes, people like grandma, that cares about status, what people say and what not, requires people that is on her level or higher to show and say those things before she can believe and accept it.

Grandma: just don’t be inappropriate in Public

Sam: proceeds to drive like a racecar driver, then becoming a road bully, then asking the love of her life to accept her back, at roadside mind you, and then proceeds to kiss her in full view of everyone that is driving on that stretch of the road (and any pedestrians if any)

Sam is wearing Pink!!!!

Sam, maybe you should start that convo with Mon by saying your wedding with Kirk is off. You really need to attend communication skills class.

Mon honey. Why don’t you ask Sam to follow you to England? But yeah I get it. I also did not apply to a job in Australia when my ex said it’ll be far from her so I can’t judge you there Mon.

Kirk and Khun Phoom 👀👀👀

(Alas, it is implied it’ll be Kirk + Kade)

Kade, honey. Kirk is The Guy you have been bashing with your friends. Please re-consider.

I love the song!!!!!

It is really the kind of ending that fits the overall mood of this series.

[genderisareligion]

How long do you think this trans nonsense is going to last? Do you think people, especially women, will eventually realise how sexist, homophobic and racist trans ideology is? Or do you think society is just going to keep regressing? I had a discussion - not even an argument - with a girl recently about it all, she has a brother that calls himself a woman, and she cried when I said that I thought we should be abolishing gender stereotypes. I thought I was pretty moderate, I said that I think people should be able to dress and act however they like, but it just doesn't mean that men can claim and appropriate womanhood. She cried and called me a transphobe, and then stormed out when I said that it's inherently misogynistic. Most of my friends, both men and women, agree with me, but said that I shouldn't have brought it up. Which I think is just shit - so women are just meant to lie back and accept the erosion of our rights? This issue is occupying so much real estate in my mind, I'm constantly thinking about how absurd it is and I'm constantly angry. How long do you think I'm gonna have to be angry for?

I can’t say for certain how much longer it will be, but I can recall what ten years ago was like, so maybe things will have changed that drastically in another ten.

2012 Tumblr was peak what’s good about liberal feminism. It’s not all garbage it is still feminism after all. Consent was a huge conversation, used to see posts about male rape culture in the tens of thousands of notes, it was cool and on trend to call out “I’m not like other girls I don’t need feminism,” sexism in the workplace was being addressed. My in progress tag #notes is in part meant to capture what female solidarity used to look like on the site

because it’s taken a massive fucking nose dive and I’m trying to figure out where we went wrong. Going through archives of radblr blogs around 2015-16 is when I start noticing more of the trans/TERF conversion happening, although it always was just on a much smaller scale using different words. “Lesbians who don’t like dick” and sex industry critical women have always been attacked for one reason or another iirc they just used to call us “radscum” and other nondescript shit before landing on these handy -ERF acronyms

The thing is 2012 Tumblr was also peak Superwholock Fujoshi time and “supporting the gays” (voyeuristically living vicariously through them) was more on trend than liberal feminism. The two were seemingly in unison at the time but were going to be at odds inevitably. Mostly straight and male-pref bi women (with a sprinkle of closeted lesbians) coping with IRL men’s increasingly sadistic view of women by fantasizing about safe love between fictional men on an obsessive level. Fandoms and thus show creators going out of their way to avoid F/F slash and instead feeding the monster that is M/M until Tumblrinas felt like just “supporting” them wasn’t enough and they had to skinwalk lol and shame one type of SSA while worshipping another

Iirc by 2016 gay marriage in the US (where most of these people live) had been “won” and queer MOGAI was the shiniest newest trend thanks to a number of influences (Caitlyn Jenner and LaVerne Cox come to mind but it was definitely more than just them). Liberal feminism is capitalistic at the end of the day and the powers that be saw “queering gender” for the cash cow it’s ended up being and the powers were probably terrified that in the early 2010s under popular lib feminism hundreds of thousands of girls and women were openly in agreement online that male violence was the problem. Now it’s “gendered violence” and you can never tell who’s a male and no one can call a spade in a dress a spade

It’s inconceivable to me to cry about the idea of gender abolition like your friend did anon…..makes me like sad how convicted so many women are about this. But I’m also not surprised and don’t blame them all because anti feminist males will stop at nothing. The TERF wars are so fundamentally ridiculous like the topic is a distraction about something that’s not even real yet they’ve made it seem so real and threatening by using their male privilege to instill fear and angry infighting.

I would advise you to not let this shit take up too much real estate in your mind. As someone who sort of watched it all start or at least get this bad I try to remember when I wasn’t censoring my language this much and when misandry was a fun meme on here. Also try to keep in mind how many times the queer theorists change their mind on what language is appropriate for who and when. I will never forget how quickly writing trans* with an asterisk or transwoman with no space became crimes when before you’d get lynched for not doing it. Imo things that change that often have no foundation or could change into something unrecognizable someday. Hopefully whatever follows gender is better than this shit. Hang in there 🖤

[moe-broey]

HIGHLIGHTS.

> Someone w a bandana covering their entire face/head w punk pants VERY QUICKLY dashed down the sidewalk shouting "NO COPS AT PRIDE" and such and like everyone around them INCLUDING myself joined in like "YEAH FUCK COPS" "FIRST PRIDE WAS A RIOT" "GET THEIR ASS" <- from me specifically and there. Was a VERY pretty tgirl in a white dress and battle vest we kind of shared glances seconds before this and GOD I WISH. I WISH remembered exactly what she said but something about how a cop something something is still a pig and she had a big communism flag draped around her shoulders and for a second I think I fell in love. Maybe besides the point though it was just ALL so reassuring actually and epic and cool waiting in line for french fries

> THWRE WERE ACTUALLY??? SO MANY PUNK PEOPLE ACTUALLY?????? I'm not sure if it was just more on my radar now bc well. You know *vaguely gestering at all of me* but it was so fucking cool. Like holy shit there ARE punks in [redacted]

> Very glam moment where me and my sister tried desperately to figure out how we're going to eat our french fries when it's raining and we're carrying umbrellas and we just. Were squatted and hunched over on the (wet) grass using One umbrella as a table sort of while I tried to balance the other umbrella when I'm already struggling to stay steady anyway and I'm carrying a purse (did not help w balancing the umbrella). To eat our fries with ketchup. So primal

> Only One (1) cop at pride! Still too many but it is much better than last year I don't know what the fuck was up last year. That pride was so cursed and evil

> I got! A lot of compliments!! On my jacket :)

> I. HAD AN ENCOUNTER. WITH AN OLD FRIEND AND IT WAS SO WILD like we haven't been in touch in years I met them in middle school we had an EXTREMELY funny Thing that lasted for like One Day bc we were the only "girls" we knew who were having sexuality troubles and questions and we held hands Once and boldly told everyone we were dating and then like. We both backed out quickly HAHAHA but it was enough to brand us as Lesbians (derogatory middle schooler voice of our peers) and we've had fated encounters at pride events ever since, somehow. Even after I moved. Stars aligned for us to always be two ships passing in the night whenever there's a pride event HAHAHAHA (IT WAS SO NICE TO SEE THEM THOUGH it WAS like seeing a ghost I'm honestly so shocked we recognized each other immediately. It was so good 🥲)

> oughh... I just felt. Emotional. Like. I did feel this sort of air of tenseness, almost somberness, but it was so subtle. More strongly there was just so much fighting spirit, I think. We're here, we're queer, we're not going anywhere. I also just felt joy in the air, too. It was so nice.

> OH MY GOSH HOW COULD I FORGET....... just little interactions from the people who were marching as my sister and I were right up close but just watching the parade. Like, there was a roller derby float and I was like "YOOO Roller Derby...." and one of the people (IN SKATES!) was like, "Yeah tryouts are next week!!!" AND. AND. MY FAVE INTERACTION MAYBE was a lil old lady actively knitting as she marched and she said to me "You should learn how to knit :)" and just kept walking. While knitting. And you know what she is SO right I've wanted to learn how to knit for years.......

> I did have to leave p much as soon as the parade was done bc of overstimulation but, as we were on our way out. I was talking to my sister and I was like "Yeah good pride! Only thing though that's kind of a bummer is that there were no kinksters.... it's sad and concerning where ARE they" AND. LITERALLY. Dude in front of us turns around Wearing A Pup Mask and was like "YEAH RIGHT?!?!?" HAHAHAHA we had a very enthusiastic conversation it was SO funny and also. Just really heartwarming actually? Like yeah. We're all still here. Even if it's just a few. Or even just one. Still here.

Anyways peace amd love on planet earth there is strength in community and you're not alone. Even if you feel like a feral kitten that needs to be socialized or perhaps a hermit that lives in a secluded tower, you're not alone and there are people like you. Closer than you think 🫡

[glitterdustcyclops]

okay can someone do me a favor and read this and tell me it's not absolute garbage so i can get my brain to stop second-guessing itself? thanks

this is the first part of the first chapter of one of my WIPs, which is like if velvet goldmine were a romance novel instead, featuring my favorite neon disaster girl frankie, her BFF and platonic life partner gabriel, and gabe's new love interest, the Very Totally Heterosexual matt

“Wake up gay boy!”

There were a lot of moments in Gabriel Foster’s life that he regretted, but he thought this one would probably rank in at least the top ten. And wasn’t that sad? But he couldn’t say he appreciated being awoken by the sound of his best friend in the entire universe, Francine Takahashi, quite literally throwing her bedroom door open and practically screaming at him at the top of her lungs as she did.

There was a woosh of a soft and heavy lump landing on his head, and that turned out to be pants. His pants.

And that was when Gabe realized he was lying in Frankie’s bed with his face mashed into her pillow and his bony body wrapped in her hand-crocheted granny square afghan, clad in nothing but his sluttiest club-going briefs. And, of course, there was the fact that he was also horribly, inescapably hungover.

So just like any other Saturday morning, really.

Gabe groaned in indignation, his head pounding merrily away while obnoxious amounts of sunlight poured in through Frankie’s thin lacy white curtains, painful even from behind his desperately shut-tight eyelids. He decided right then and there that he hated every atom in the universe that made up this moment very, very much. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to stop the horror from occurring, of course.

Christ what time is it?

Probably, if his past experience was anything to go by, late enough in the morning it technically counted as afternoon, and Gabe figured he had to have been pretty fucked up last night if Frankie had brought him back here instead of dumping him at his own place. It wasn’t exactly a rare occasion to find himself here in his best platonic soulmate’s bed under her (actually rather soft, he had to admit) afghan, feeling like the residue on the bottom of a garbage can. No. It was depressingly becoming a regular occurrence at this point, and Gabe thought he should probably worry about what that said about his steady descent into alcoholism at some point, but for the moment he couldn’t be fucked to do more than lay there wallowing.

Snatches of the previous evening were coming back to him. Most of it was still blanked out by lots of alcohol and neon lighting, but he was getting enough to form a somewhat coherent picture of the events, and definitely enough that he could be utterly mortified by it.

They’d all gone out together, The Peaches, like they’d been doing a lot lately; soaking up the hard-partying rock-god lifestyle while they could, before their tour officially started. Frankie had been performing at The Ruby—their favorite queer burlesque/drag venue—and everything had been so sultry and seductive under the glitter of the lights, the warmth of expensive whisky flooding his belly, and then…fuck. Warner had been there too, of course. As the lead guitarist for The Peaches William Warner was no stranger to The Ruby, and he had just looked so incredible there in all his untouchable golden glory, so confident and sure in himself even as the lone heterosexual at a queer club. So of course the two of them had started dancing together, and Warner had been laughing and he always looked so fucking good when he was laughing, and then—

Gabe moaned in utter agony as he remembered what else the two of them had got up to last night. In the bathroom of a gay bar. With his supposedly straight bandmate. Again. Jesus Christ could he be any more of a cliché? Gabe made a silent promise to himself then, one that he knew he would never actually keep, that he would not do this again. He would stop drinking if he had to. Not another drop of alcohol would touch his sinful lips for as long as he lived, and then he would stop getting himself into Situations with Straight Boys.

Amen.

“And how are we this morning?” Frankie practically sang at him in perfect Disney Princess pitch, as she plopped down at the foot of the bed. Right on top of his poor vulnerable ankles.

Damned harpy Gabe thought, but all he managed in reply was a small anguished “unnnnhh.”

Frankie giggled. Meanly. “Y’know, I bet the fansites would get a kick out of this. I should go grab my camera.”

The sound of her joy at his misfortune felt like iron stakes being driven directly into his skull, and Gabe groaned pathetically again.

“Nnnnh fuck you.”

“I know babe, love you too.” She patted his leg condescendingly, and Gabe could just imagine the wicked smirk that would be on her face as she did. “C’mon, get up, get dressed, let’s go. Hangover Breakfast. My treat.”

It had been their Saturday Morning-or-Afternoon Tradition, even long before they’d started staying out all night being indie-famous rockstars. Back when Gabe had just been a newly-out self-conscious college freshman and Frankie had made it her mission to induct him into the Homosexual Lifestyle by taking him out to bars and watching him make a fool of himself in public. The two of them had been doing it for over half a decade at this point, and time had proven there was no better cure for an evening out drinking than a quality Hangover Breakfast at their favorite seedy local diner, Mel’s.

But for the life of him, at that moment Gabe honestly couldn’t remember why. Just the thought of sitting upright, in public, let alone in an establishment dedicated to serving heaping plates of artery-clogging fare, sounded like a scenario straight out of a bizarre breakfast-themed Saw rip-off. All Gabriel really wanted to do right now was curl into the smallest possible ball he could manage, and then die.

“Nooo…don’ wannaaa…”

“Oh yes you do, ya big baby. Come on, up up up! You’ll feel better after some food, I promise.” Frankie poked him somwhere near his ribs and Gabe squirmed helplessly as much as he could, trapped as he was underneath her blanket.

He honestly didn’t think he could handle putting anything else in his body right now—and of course he wanted to groan again at the reminder of what, or rather, who he had been putting in there last night—but Gabriel knew better than to try and argue with Francine Takahashi: Most Stubborn Person in the Universe. So instead he kicked his feet vaguely in her direction as a final act of rebellion and then managed to pull himself to sit up, muttering darkly the entire time.

Frankie positively beamed at him, her neon-pink-orange dyed hair glowing almost painfully bright from the light through the windows, and Gabe flipped her off before he disentangled himself from her sheets and then stumbled out into the hall, towards the bathroom.

For a split second he worried how it might look, coming out of Frankie’s bedroom practically naked, but Frankie’s roommate Aurora tended to be so blithely self-interested it was like she didn’t notice anything that wasn’t happening about four inches from her face on the glowing surface of her phone screen. He shook his head a bit. Aurora was a weird one, making her living dressing up as a mermaid and being photographed at hotel pools, but she and Frankie had somehow remained good friends since her first year living in the dorms, when they had been thrown together through the whims of the University Student Housing Department, so Gabe tried not to question it.

It was a little strange that Frankie was still living here at all, he couldn’t help but think. At this point none of them strictly needed roommates since The Peaches’ last album was doing so much better than any of them could have predicted. They had been signed to a shiny new label and were about to go on a sold-out North American tour, a fact which made Gabe’s stomach nearly lurch up his throat every time he thought about it for too long. It seemed that his and Frankie’s starving artist days were officially going to be over. But maybe it was nice for her to be somewhere familiar, when everything else in their lives were changing so fast. He honestly couldn’t help but envy her a bit, for that she had that.

Gabe reached the shared bathroom in the hallway opposite Frankie’s room without further incident, and he didn’t bother to turn on the light as he shut the door and awkwardly hovered over the sink, the glittery plastic skull nightlight glowing eerily purple next to him casting strange shadows across his face. Things were a bit dicey there for a moment, but he guessed he must have already vomitted up the contents of his stomach at some point during the previous evening, because all Gabe really managed were a couple of weary dry heaves that lead to nothing but painful hacking coughs that scraped across the sandpaper surface of his throat.

The water from the sink was almost pathetically refreshing after that, and he took several grateful gulps to get rid of the dead-carcass-picked-over-by-vultures feeling in his mouth.

He observed himself in the mirror then. The remnants of his eye makeup had been smudged past the point of “artfully dishevelled” into raccoon territory and his lips were dry and cracking, while a very obvious hicky was already purpling up along the sharp incline of his collarbone. He winced. Hiding in Frankie’s bathroom for the rest of his life seemed a more appealing option than having to go out there and face the sober light of day, and at that point he was actually desperate enough to consider it. Until Frankie herself appeared, pounding on the door and threatening to drag him out by whatever parts she could grab, clothed or not.

So Gabe emerged a few minutes later, hungover and grumpy and feeling ever-so-slightly used and a whole lot pathetic. But at least he had pants on. And at least he was a bit less nauseous than he had been before. Small miracles.

Frankie laughed again, but she managed to make it sound slightly sympathetic that time.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Gabe muttered as he followed her from the hallway out into the living room.

“Yeah, I honestly kind of am.”

The living room was even brighter, somehow, than Frankie’s bedroom had been. Clean white late-morning-or-early-afternoon (Gabe still wasn’t sure, and he couldn’t be bothered to check) light flooded in through the shitty wooden blinds that did fuck-all to stop the glare, while Aurora herself had been haphazardly thrown across the futon, her face awash in the familiar glow of her phone, a look of deep concentration etched into her furrowed brows.

Only that woman could’ve made scrolling through Instagram look that intense.

“Morning,” she said vaguely, without looking up, her long blonde hair slipping loose from the clip holding it up in a messy bun to hang around her face.

“Morning!” Frankie trilled back while Gabe said nothing, because he was too busy covering his ears to muffle the sudden pain.

Frankie left him listing slightly to the side but mostly still upright in the entryway to the living room while she skipped over to the kitchen, grabbing a giant bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge and a mysterious bottle of generic pills—probably Tylenol, or maybe if he was lucky, tranquillizers—and then skipped back over and shoved them in his hands. The magical combination of lemon-lime Sport Drink and painkillers made him feel marginally less like a reanimated corpse than he had before, so Gabe murmured a grudging thank you in her direction before he was shuffled out the door and into Frankie’s precious lime green Volkswagen Beetle, Daisy—so named for the white daisy stickers she’d stuck all over the sides—and driven to Mel’s.

Gabe couldn’t decide whether or not the routine was comfortingly familiar, or just depressing. Or maybe both. But he liked having these places that belonged just to them. Mel’s Diner was something of a local institution, Gabe’s one-time employer and the secret hideaway of several local bands, including The Peaches. They were familiar enough with the staff that no one would rat it out to the press, and the peeling red glitter vinyl booths and slightly-sticky plastic tables had become a safe haven for him over the years. Which was rapidly becoming a necessity, the more recognizable The Peaches got.

Well, at least if Gabe had to put up with getting recognized in public (which was still a total mindfuck every time it happened), he was glad to have Frankie beside him. She had been his bestest best friend for practically forever at this point. Over a decade, now. Since that very first day when she had knocked over the music stand they were sharing in sixth grade orchestra. She’d giggled like mad and Gabe had fallen ever-so-slightly in love with her, just like that.

God.

That felt like it was an entire lifetime away. Probably there was something unhealthily co-dependent in relying on one person for that long, but whatever. She was his Frankie, his Manic Pixie Fag Hag, self-appointed platonic soulmate and rhythm guitarist for The Peaches, and as much as he liked to complain about what a terror she was, Gabriel knew he would never trade her for all the money and riches in the world.

She was even being considerate for once, keeping the volume of her car stereo low—Pet Sounds on tape as always—and not talking incessantly as she drove, like she normally would have. Gabe slumped against the side of the car with his face pressed against the cool glass surface of the window, his hand on the crank ready to roll at a moment’s notice. Just in case. He’d fished out one of the many pairs of heart-shaped sunglasses that Frankie kept stashed in the glove compartment and they made a valiant attempt to block out the 2:00 PM sunlight.

Well, 2:00 according to the dash clock, anyway. So it could have been anywhere from 11 to 3, depending on the last time Frankie had actually bothered to update the thing. And who knew when that was.

Gabe was still stubbornly refusing to check his phone. It seemed better to exist in that timeless morn-afternoon void than be confronted with…well, Warner probably hadn’t bothered to text him anyway. Rarely did, these days. And of course Gabe wouldn’t have cared if he did. At least, he tried to tell himself that, but he wasn’t sure how well he was listening, as some horrible stupid moronic part of his brain insisted on making his stomach go all fluttery at just the thought of reading Warner’s hypothetical texts.

Ugh.

Ridiculous.

They ambled into Mel’s eventually, Gabe trying to rub the sleep crumbs from his eyes as he followed behind Frankie and they took their usual booth. It was blessedly empty, another perk of being friendly with the staff. Frankie sprawled across the entire left half while Gabe dutifully took the side facing the doorway, and after a moment’s hesitation he threw himself onto the surface of the table with another pitiful whimper.

“You are such a drama queen!” Frankie admonished him, and Gabe could practically hear the eyeroll in her voice. He’d known her for way too long. “Seriously, babe, worse than me.”

“Frankie?” Gabe replied, his voice muffled from where his head still rested against the table. “Shut. Up.”

“Blehh,” she responded eloquently, and then they were interrupted by a new voice.

“Hey there you two! Can I getcha started with some drinks?”

Gabe’s brain was too busy pounding like an entire invading army company was marching through it for him to even contemplate doing something as unthinkable as lifting his head up to look at their waitress—not one of the ones he was personally acquainted with he guessed—but still he knew, deep down in his soul, that he hated her deeply. Intimately. And the sound of her too-cheery voice sliding along all his nerve endings like a cheese grater definitely didn’t help matters.

“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake and he’ll have water,” he heard Frankie say.

“Alrighty! I’ll be right back with those, go ahead and take a look at your menus and let me know if you have any questions.”

Questions? It’s a diner not the Ritz.

Eventually Gabe did manage to sit up, resting his palm under his chin and attempting to give Frankie his most dour of glares, but the effect was probably ruined somewhat by the pink heart-shaped sunglasses he hadn’t bothered to take off, and you know, the massive hangover too. He was sure his expression was giving more “pained grimace” than “haughty glance” but it was close enough.

“Isn’t the traditional hangover remedy always coffee?” he groused, just to be difficult.

Frankie wrinkled her nose in response, a move Gabe normally found rather endearing when he wasn’t committed to hating her for forcing him to be in public when he felt like a hungover gay disaster.

“And when, my dear, in the history of forever, have you ever voluntarily drunk black coffee?”

“Touché.” Gabe shrugged, and couldn’t quite hide the hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his lips.

“I swear,” she continued, fiddling idly with the paper band from her napkin, because this was a classy joint, “It is actually amazing how bad you are at being hungover, considering how often you do it. You’re the worst rockstar ever, babe.”

Frankie giggled again.

“Wasn’t aware it was something you could get a good grade in,” Gabe replied, before sticking his tongue out at her and laying his face back down on the table.

Sure, he wasn’t exactly new to this particular experience; if not for his misspent early twenties as a slutty club kid, then the past three or four trying to become a rock legend and playing in shitty bars would’ve seen to that. But even so, this particular hangover felt like a new and exciting kind of terrible, especially when he considered the whole moronically-throwing-himself-at-his-straight-bandmate part of the deal. And the worst part was that Gabe knew, as sure as he knew his own name, that as much as he was protesting right now, he would probably be doing it all over again the next time they performed.

The feeling was just too addictive. Everything went all shiny-bright and warm; electric and alive as the alcohol pouring through his veins turned all his limbs loose and free. When he was under the influence, he could get out of his stupid head and away from his stupid too-short limbs, the whole of him flowing out to spread around to all those other warm, interesting bodies surrounding him on the dance floor or the stage. That sweet release of escaping into the beat. It was a high, plain and simple, as thrilling and seductive as any Gabe had ever known. Whether he was singing to a crowd of hundreds or one anonymous body in a sea of others, the feeling was the same.

But he couldn’t think of a way to describe that to Frankie that wouldn’t make her think he definitely had a problem, so he just sighed dramatically and let her continue gently poking fun at what a ridiculously miserable lump he was right now.

After a while he vaguely overheard Frankie ordering food for them, and just the sound of it was enough to make his stomach turn again. He almost ran to the bathroom but he was too tired to move, and after a couple of worrying lurches the feeling passed, so he let it go. Instead he fantasized about melting off the booth to settle into a puddle on the floor underneath so he didn’t have to person anymore. But then Gabe shuddered to imagine what crumbs and things could be lurking down there, so maybe no melting. Not today.

And it didn’t matter anyway, because suddenly Frankie was kicking him rather pointedly in the shin with one of her stupid platform heels, and he was pulled out of his head with a petulant whine.

“What?”

“Food’s here.”

“Ugh,” Gabe sighed, managing to pull his head up again.

Which was a mistake, because then he found himself face-to-face with an honest-to-God breakfast fucking orgy. Just sitting there across from him, wafting horribly tormenting smells his way: a huge platterfull of all of his very favorite things. Bacon and eggs and hashbrowns and sausage and pancakes and more bacon, all of it lovingly arranged and mouthwateringly decadent in that perfect greasy-diner way.

And all of it Frankie pulled towards herself, before nudging a small, sad plate of dry toast in front of him.

“Eat up.” She smirked.

“You are a cruel, cruel woman,” he sniffed back.

“I mean, yes, obviously. But come on, I doubt you could actually eat any of this right now. Toast’ll help soak up all the gunk left in your stomach, babe.”

“I don’t want toast. I want bacon.”

Gabe knew he wouldn’t have been able to eat it just then, but still. Bacon was worth that sacrifice. Frankie gave him a dubious look.

“Let’s see how you do with toast first, kay?”

“Harpy.”

He gave the corner of his toast an experimental little nibble as he leaned his chin on his hand again. The slice tasted mostly of cardboard and sadness, but he knew it was about the most he could handle at the moment. Which, of course, didn’t make him feel any better as Frankie helped herself to a thick, perfectly crisp slice of bacon, gesturing around with it and dancing by herself in the booth, conducting her own private symphony as she devoured her breakfast orgy. It simply was not fair that Frankie could be so effortlessly carefree at a time like this.

Of course, that was how it had always been. Frankie had a disturbingly high alcohol tolerance, and what was worse was that she also never drank, apart from maybe two times that Gabe could remember in their almost two decades of friendship. She didn’t smoke or do drugs either, not even weed. She never judged anyone around her who did, but she preferred a “natural high” as she described it once. And with anyone else that would have been obnoxious as hell, but it was Frankie.

He wouldn’t want her to change for anything in the world.

It was one of the things Gabe loved most about her, actually. Her carefree zest for life without chemical enhancements. Her ability to find humor and joy even in the smallest of moments. It’s what kept him sane, kept him grounded when everything else in their lives felt so shiny and unreal it threatened to overwhelm him. It was what made her precious, his sweet slice of sunshine. Even if it made him terribly, horribly jealous sometimes.

Because Frankie would never have the pleasure of getting wasted at a gay bar before performing ill-advised fellatio on a bandmate.

God.

Thankfully the finer details of last night were still mostly blurred behind an alcohol haze, but one singular moment stood out in shining awful clarity, of course: Gabriel, on his knees like a wanton harlot, the grimy tile of the men’s bathroom digging into him as he looked up at Will above him, with all those miles of perfect golden skin peaking out from underneath his tight white t-shirt, his flushed cheeks and panting chest and oh, the wanting, such wonderful longing all for him. And Gabe wanted just as much. Wanted everything, the heat and thrill of Will’s calloused fingers against him, the desperate yearning to be taken apart.

In the present Gabe sighed again, staring somewhere at the middle of the table and fiddling idly with a butter knife, having given up on the toast completely.

The rational, objective part of his brain knew it was totally pathetic to be so wrecked over the whole thing, but the rest of him couldn’t seem to stop. It almost felt good in a painfully self-indulgent sort of way, to soak in all of his misery and terrible gay pining. He was helplessly, hopelessly head-over-heels in love with his supposedly straight friend, and the fact that Warner was also the lead fucking guitarist of his band didn’t seem to be a deterrent. If anything it made the whole thing more appealing, getting to watch him on stage night after night gilded in those bright lights, playing his heart out, sweaty and raw and so alive.

All Gabe’s strict rules about not fraternizing with fellow band members had flown right out the goddamn window, long before he’d gotten to his knees in that bathroom stall, if he were honest. It should have concerned him more. He knew he was probably fucking up everything he’d worked so hard to build, all for some dumb boy with pretty green eyes. God. He was fucked.

Tomorrow, Gabe resolved, he would take all of these feelings and lock them back up in a box and bury it somewhere deep deep down in his psyche. Last night was the last time. He needed to get over this pathetic crush and focus on what really mattered. If this tour went well the label would be more willing to give up some creative control for their next album. The Peaches were on the verge of greatness, as absolutely wild it was to think, and all the things Gabe tried to tell himself were silly to want, the money and the fame, actually seemed within their grasp.

So. It was time to pull his head out of his ass and focus. But, for today at least, he would stew as much as he liked. And thankfully Frankie seemed content to let him marinate, busy amusing herself by playing with her pancakes and making dinosaur noises as she ate.

Gabe couldn’t help the fond smile that lurked at the edges of his mouth as he watched her from behind his borrowed glasses. Frankie was usually so bright she almost hurt to look at. His neon-colored girl. She was giving excellent Manic Pixie today, with her clashingly-bright vintage floral dress and her signature magenta-orange bisexual bob cut and thick black cat-eye frame glasses, her bangs blunt and her smile the color of a blue raspberry snowcone, yellow glittery pineapples dangling from her ears.

That was who she had always been. Loud and sparkly and too much, the exclamation point at the end of a sentence that demanded attention. It was how the two of them worked so well; Gabe was all mystery, all dark shadows and dark hair and dark eyes and soft-spoken voice, and Frankie was the dazzling disco ball that cast the light on whatever she was around. When they were younger he appreciated that she would soak up all the glorious spotlight for herself while he faded quietly away into the background, but now as Aiden Wilde, frontman of The Peaches, he had learned to channel his darkness into something sultry, something seductive and a little dangerous. The leather-clad panther against her neon sparkling weirdo, the contrast that brought both into sharper clarity.

They were a pair, and whatever else happened around them, Gabe was never ever gonna let her go.

But of course, right at that moment, with Gabe feeling like an absolute pathetic mess while Frankie did something ridiculous in the background, was the same exact moment that William Warner himself waltzed into Mel’s like he’d been conjured specifically to fuck with Gabe, and he felt his heart nearly lurch up into his throat. Jesus Christ Warner looked so good and it wasn’t fair; he had to have been as drunk as Gabe was last night. But you couldn’t tell by looking at him, in his loose jeans and tight t-shirt, his stupid floppy sandy blond hair hanging as if it were hand-sculpted by the gods to look that fucking good.

He wasn’t alone either, surrounded by the members of Massive Aggression, a local alternative band that was also gaining prominence among the indie scene, and all of them were laughing and talking like the popular clique in a 90’s teen romcom.

Fuck.

In addition to his posse of much-cooler friends, Warner had a frivolous little piece of arm candy dangling off him, all pin-straight extensions and fake tits, her eyes gleaming like a cartoon wolf who had just spied a particularly juicy steak. Frankie would’ve probably called Gabe out on the misogyny of describing another woman like that, and part of him hated that he was going all “Jolene” about a straight dude he drunkenly went down on like twice, but still. Gabe’s hands curled into fists of their own accord, his heart beating rapidly and his stomach full of butterflies as he nearly choked on a desperate intake of breath.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Of course, as Satan was the personal set-designer for Gabe’s shitty goddamn life, and because their table was close to the entrance, the Cool Kid Clique would have to pass right by their booth to get to one of the open seats.

“Oh fuck me,” Gabe moaned in horror, slamming his head down onto the table again.

“Babe, don’t you think you’re being a leetle overdramatic? I mean, it is just a hangover.” Frankie was probably rolling her eyes again, totally unaware of the mortifying ordeal that had been unfolding behind her.

“Oh my God Frankie, please,” Gabe pleaded, as if Jurassic Park rules applied and as long as they didn’t make any sudden moves no one would notice, “for the love of God, just shut the fuck up.”

“No I will not shut the fuck up! Look I’m sorry you don’t feel super great but you’ve been acting like kind of a jerk all morning and I love you, but I think it’s fu-uh-err—”

And then suddenly Frankie had stopped mid-rant, her voice trailing off into an awkward little squeak.

“Oh, Warner,” she said desperately, after a beat of horrible silence. “Uh hey dude! Fancy meeting you here, ha ha!”

“Hey guys,” that achingly familiar warm voice rumbled right next to their table, all surfer boy charm dripping like honey from every syllable.

God.

All the hairs on the back of Gabe’s arms were suddenly standing at attention, a helpless little shiver running up and down his spine at the slight rasp to the edge of Warner’s voice. He was abject over the man, and it was pathetic.

Gabriel bolted upright, part of his brain wishing this was all just some weird alcohol-induced nightmare, even as he tried to pretend he wasn’t still hungover as hell and dying inside at the sight of him.

“Uh hey man! What’s up!” Gabe practically shouted, pretty sure his smile was edging into deranged territory.

“Y-ya okay?” Will asked instead, an edge of genuine concern knitting his brows.

Gabe gulped, pointedly ignoring the amused chuckles from Warner’s little posse behind him. Massive Aggression had been trying to court Warner over to their side for a while. He always claimed he wasn’t interested, they were just buddies, but seeing them all together like that…

Something hot and angry and sharp flared in Gabe’s stomach then.

Warner looked away guiltily, as if he could read the thoughts written on Gabe’s face. Hell, he probably could. Fuck, this was the worst. Gabe wanted to unzip his skin and crawl out of it like cicada shell. He wanted to run very very far away, and at the same time dissolve himself into nothingness. But most of all, he just really wanted Will to stop looking at him like that, as if he had been caught. Red-faced and ashamed.

So Gabe panicked, just a bit.

“Oh yeah man, totally fine! I mean, why wouldn’t I be? Haha, yep, it’s all great over here. So thanks but we’re all super fine, okay? See you later!”

Frankie and Warner both stared at him, and Gabe was pretty sure he was in the midst of an actual breakdown. Warner’s posse all laughed rather enthusiastically, and he could swear Frankie’s mouth was actually hanging open a bit.

“A-alright?” Will attempted, blinking back and forth between Frankie and him as if he was trying to understand a complex puzzle. “I guess…I’ll see you guys at practice?”

“Sure thing!”

With a final awkward wave William Warner stumbled away, turning back to his cooler friends. Who were openly mocking Gabe at this point as they all went to their own table. Neat.

Gabe managed to turn his gaze back to Frankie, who was still perched there with her blue lips in that perfect little “oh,” genuinely stunned silent, for once.

“Not. One. Word,” Gabe growled through clenched teeth, glaring at her from behind his sunglasses, as if it would help anything.

Frankie blinked once, twice, and then finally errupted into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“Oh my God babe,” she said, breathless with giggles, leaning her own head in her hands as if she couldn’t hold herself up with how ridiculous Gabe was, “what the entire fuck was that?”

“Nope.” Gabe was definitely not blushing right now. “Nuh-uh, nope. I’m not saying anything.”

“You are the most absurd person I know,” she said, finally calming down enough to speak normally, though her eyes were still practically glimmering with mirth. Because she was a horrible person. “And you know it’s bad, cuz it’s me saying that.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, his arms crossed in front of his chest defensively and his foot bobbing wildly underneath the table. Running away was seeming the more appealing option by the second.

“Soo…” Frankie started, when it became obvious that Gabe was intent on sitting there in stone cold silence for the next millennia or so. “Do…are we gonna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Oh come on! I’m your platonic life partner, I’m here for you! You can tell me anything!”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come onn Gabe,” she pouted. “You can’t just sit there pining for forever.”

“Frankie,” Gabe said, an acid edge of warning to his voice. “Leave it.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes.

There was a beat of silence then, Frankie looking everywhere but at Gabe’s face.

“I said leave it,” he growled at her again.

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

“I can hear you thinking it.”

Francine Takahashi gave her best friend a very vocal look, the singular deadly quirk of her sharp black brow speaking volumes. Because of course she already knew every intimate detail of Gabriel’s hopeless wretched crush on Will; on the past few years he’d spent pining and the previous nights of drunken mistakes. Because she was his best friend, and she knew everything about him. Unfortunately.

And of course Warner was refusing to talk about any of it, preferring to stay in the zone of plausible deniability. And Gabe let him. He knew he was a total moron for it, but he kept going back anyway. It had to have been some kind of masochism or something. Some self-destructive impulse to take the one good thing in his life, the thing he’d wanted so desperately and dreamed about for so long, that he’d never thought he’d have but somehow managed to build anyway, and then completely fuck it up over a stupid crush.

But whenever they were on stage, and William gave him that look, all heat and longing—just for show, he’d claim—or whenever they were together in private, always sitting close as possible, sometimes Gabe perched right on Will’s lap, and he never seemed to mind then, or whenever Will gave him one of those rarer, soft smiles that he only shared with him, God. It was like being lit up from the inside. He was powerless to stop.

And Frankie’s judgmental little eyebrows were definitely not helping the situation, at all.

“I seriously hate you,” Gabriel finally said, sighing in defeat.

“No you don’t,” Frankie replied, another roll of her eyes. “I mean, who’s the kind-hearted soul who, instead of focusing on perfecting her legendary drag act, took the time to ferry your skinny hipster ass out to the club and then babysat you while you got smashed, and didn’t complain once the entire time? And who’s the absolute saint who then drove your drunk stupid ass back to her own apartment at like three in the goddamn morning, when she could have instead been spending her time being flirted at by hot queers, listening to you moan about him the entire fucking time? And who then spent the rest of the very very late evening-slash-early-morning scrubbing your vomit out of her precious Daisy, huh?”

Gabe cringed.

Okay. So maybe he was being a bit of a total asshole, when she put it like that. He wished he could blame the way he’d been treating her on everything going on with Warner, but that wasn’t really fair to her. Honestly, Gabe knew he’d been taking her for granted lately. And sure, Frankie was a horrible person who had bullied him into going out in public when he was feeling miserable and hungover and ashamed, but she was still his very best friend in the entire universe. And sure, she had been a little bit too amused at his plight earlier, but she had also been spending the entire time—and probably most of the previous evening as well—taking care of him.

Honestly, she’d been doing that for a lot longer than just last night. Because she always did. That was Frankie. And it wasn’t her fault that Gabe’s life felt like such a disaster zone right now.

“I—” he sighed again. “Thanks, Frankie. I’m sorry you have to put up with such an asshole for a best friend, but thank you for looking out for me.”

He hoped she could hear the subtext behind those words. I love you.

“You’re right, you are such an ungrateful bastard,” she snipped back at him. “And you’re welcome.”

Then she smiled, and Gabe knew what she really meant to say. I love you too.

And with that their weird little fight was forgotten, and Frankie went back to her normal ridiculous pixie self. The two of them sat in companionable silence for a bit, Gabe’s face propped back up on his hand while he watched Frankie drag a half-eaten sausage through the remnants of her pancake syrup and hum a little melody to herself. After a while she valiantly offered to go up to the register and pay while Gabe did his very best impression of a slightly-less-miserable lump.

She’d left him the last piece of bacon, he realized, and he was ridiculously touched by that as he munched slowly on it and waited for her return. Gabe knew then that the situation was more dire than he first thought, because not even bacon was able to lift his spirits.

Frankie waltzed back eventually, taking a final slip of the mostly-melted milkshake remnants in the bottom of her glass, before setting it back down and smirking at him.

“You better yet?” she asked, towering over the booth in her absurd platform heels. She was wearing the electric blue ones today, to match her lipstick. Of course.

Gabe gave her a noncommittal mumble, but made no further effort to dislodge himself from his side of the booth just yet.

“Because if you get any more vomit on Daisy I will be dumping your ass on the side of the road, hangover or not.”

“Time to go?” he asked instead.

“Yeah I’m bored.”

Gabe didn’t really want to be in this place any more either, so he finally pulled himself up and followed Frankie as she skipped her way out the door.

And out of some idiotic whim he would never, ever understand, Gabe took one last look back over his shoulder, scanning the tables. For him. And of course, there he was. Gabriel was like a stupid horny moth drawn to that golden-bright flame; Will in the center of his table surrounded by cooler people, that bimbo basically in his lap as he laughed, gilded in the attention of the group around him.

Suddenly Will must have felt Gabe’s eyes on him, because he looked up just then, and for one lingering perfect moment, they made eye contact across the diner. Gabe felt his insides go all gooey like taffy as the weight of Warner’s dazzling gold-green eyes settled on him, but then the moment was gone. Warner broke their eye contact, looking away and laughing at something someone had said to him.

Wrecked Gabe utterly, just like always.

“Gabe?” Frankie called, standing expectantly by the doors and holding one open for him.

“Yeah?” he shook his head, finally managing to tear his gaze away. “Coming.”

And at least he did not turn around again as he walked out, trying to put the saunter back in his steps. Just because he felt like the residue on the bottom of trash can didn’t mean he had to act like it.

Gabe expected to be bundled back into Daisy and driven back to The Factory—the literal converted factory warehouse that he’d bought with the advance from the label, part apartment, part home recording studio, part rehearsal space—but he thought Frankie must have realized he was still in a funk because instead she grabbed his hand and lead him off down a side-street, deeper into downtown. One of her mad little Adventures. They used to do it all the time when Gabe still lived near Mel’s. Frankie’s incorrigible sense of weirdness tended to lead them to all sorts of strange little places that he normally overlooked.

First, a local record store that they liked to pop in on sometimes, where Gabe argued with the clerk about genre classifications and Frankie called both of them pretentious assholes. Then they found their favorite thrift store and played their usual game of finding the most ridiculous stuff to force each other to try on; Frankie threw an impromptu fashion show right in the middle of the store as she modeled her face off, wearing an oversized atrociously 80’s sweater paired with a floral silk kimono and a feather boa.

Just to make Gabe smile.

He thumbed over the video on his phone fondly as the two of them ambled down the street. They came across a farmer’s market of some sort spilled across a brick-lined plaza in the middle of a nearby park, in defiance of the already-hot weather, and there was live music and the overlapping chatter of milling voices. People hawked their wares while a cute couple chased their dog down and some of the milling crowd laughed, while a few kids were running around in that carefree way only children could manage. Even from here it smelled like fresh grass and baked goods, and Gabe wanted to bottle up the moment and tuck it away inside his pocket, to keep forever.

Frankie turned to face him, her hand warm where it still gripped his and her chipped glitter nail polish glinting faintly in the early-afternoon sun. She had a wicked glimmer in her brown eyes, a smirk on her face.

“Shall we?”

Like he had a choice? But Gabe laughed anyway, feeling just a bit lighter as she lead him down the little walkways between the stalls, her free hand poking and prodding at everything she could, interrogating each person she talked to about their raw honey or organic bath products or whatever else they were selling. Because that was Frankie. She dazzled in the small moments, her attention flattering and overwhelming in equal measure. Gabe was content to bob along behind her, smiling warmly whenever someone glanced at him, but not saying much.

As Frankie scrutinized a fresh brie from a local cheesemonger Gabriel let his attention wander, and that’s when he heard it. It wasn’t hard to miss, and he’d been attuned to it over the past few months. That sound was becoming more and more familiar lately; whispers somewhere behind him, along with a few nervous giggles.

“Oh my God I think that’s them!”

“It totally is. Should we go up?”

“Eee! I don’t know, you do it.”

“No way, you do it!”

He turned and saw two teenagers standing a close-but-respectful distance away, sporting obviously-amateur dye jobs and all-black clothes, one of them wearing a truly impressive amount of heavy black eyeliner for a Saturday afternoon. A pang of fondness, a certain nostalgia flared in Gabe as he took in the two Youths. A memory of a lifetime ago, of Frankie and him with similar amateur dye-jobs and ratty Converse and too-much makeup, and he couldn’t help but smile. He caught their eyes and flashed the two teenagers his best smolder, beckoning them closer, and they both squealed.

God. That would never stop being weird.

“Hi, um, are you Aiden Wilde?” one of them, the purple-haired one, tall and curvy with a they/them pin on the strap of their shiny black pleather bat-shaped backpack, said hesitantly.

“The very same,” he said, letting the smoke come out in his voice.

“Oh my god, hi!”

“I’m sorry if this is lame, it’s just, we’re such big fans,” said the be-eyelinered one, blushing profusely.

“Nah, that’s awesome. You guys wanna take a selfie?”

“Oh my gosh yes please! And oh you’re Frankie! Oh my god I love you!” Purple Hair said to Frankie, who giggled sincerely.

“Aww, you flatter me! Here, I have long arms, I’ll take it.”

They Took the Selife, and after a bit more fawning and the hurried signing of whatever piece of merch they could grab, Aiden Wilde bid adieu to his young fans. Frankie was smirking at him as the two youths scrambled away still squealing. Gabe blushed, but there was definitely a glow in his belly. As much as part of him still thought he was getting away with something, and eventually the universe would realize the error and come correct it, there was something still thrilling about being recognized. About being able to make someone’s day just by taking a selife with them. He hoped he never got used to it.

After a silent negotiation they ended up in the park with Gabe’s head pillowed comfortably in Frankie’s lap as she fed him slices of brie and strawberries from a little brown paper bag she’d bought when he hadn’t been paying attention. The berries were ripe and sweet as a summer’s kiss, and Gabe’s stomach had settled enough he could actually appreciate the juicy flavor of them exploding across his tongue, the contrast of the creamy-salty cheese she fed him after. Frankie giggled at nothing, still humming whatever melody was in her head as she fed him, her free hand tangled in his hair. It was a gorgeous early summer afternoon, blue sky forever and not too deep in the 100’s just yet, and they had found some dappled shade under a tree. And it was just…nice. A sweet little moment, and Gabe felt most of his bad mood slip away with the berries and the barest hint of breeze that rustled through the leaves.

But of course eventually it had to end, as all such moments did. They strolled back to Daisy silently and Frankie drove them back to The Factory, singing along to The Beach Boys softly as she tapped out a rhythme on the wheel.

It still blew Gabe’s mind, just a bit, that he owned a goddamn warehouse. So far he’d been keeping the Rockstar Extravagance mostly to a minimum—part of him convinced that it was just another glitch in the Matrix and any minute now The IRS or whoever would be showing up on his doorstep to take it all away—and apart from some flashy clothes and a couple dream instruments he’d had his eye on for years, he tried to stick to his former starving artist budget. But when the lease on his old apartment was ending and he realized he didn’t have to find another one, he could afford to live wherever he wanted, Gabe couldn’t help but live out a little House Hunters fantasy, born from years of watching HGTV late at night with nothing to do. When he saw the listing for this place, it felt like fate calling to him.

He was trying not to get too pretentious with it, at least, but it felt wrong not to indulge in his deepest-held arty bohemian whims at least a little bit. And of course, since Frankie’s love of home décor almost rivaled his own, he had let her go a bit nuts with the makeover, sourcing vintage Oriental rugs and bespoke iridescent acrylic tables, a gigantic disco ball hanging down from the ceiling like a glam rock planet with its own galaxy. It was a legitimately cool little space, with plenty of room for The Peaches to hang out and even play music together sometimes. And it was his, and he could cover the whole thing in nude male pin-ups and as much glitter as he wanted, and no one could stop him.

As Gabe let her through the rolling garage door he heard a thumping bass rhythm and figured Lance and Kiki must have already shown up, probably warming up on their respective instruments. Well, Lance was warming up. Kiki was lounging on the vintage dusty rose velvet sofa Gabe had found at a consignment store for a steal, frowning in concentration as she played something on her yellow Nintendo Switch. Probably Animal Crossing, if he had to guess.

It was just a random chance that he had found the two of them, but he would always be glad for it. The Peaches had become something like a family over the years, and while he would never love them the same way he loved Frankie, he wouldn’t want anyone else in his band. In a way, it felt like Lance and Kiki were always destined to find him. Gabe knew things wouldn’t be the same without either of them there.

Kiki, whose birth name was Kimberly Kikuchi but if you called her that she would try to stab you, preferred to dress like a sweet, innocent little porcelain doll; but that was the disguise she wore to distract from the fact that she was a total bitch and she owned it. She loved playing into men’s expectations of her as a cute piece of empty-headed cotton candy fluff, with her long blonde hair and penchant for babydoll dresses, and then proceeding to absolutely destroy them on her drum kit and ruin their fragile egos. And it made Gabe die laughing every single time.

Lance, by contrast, was The Quiet One of the group, but that didn’t stop them from being a total chaos gremlin, and a little bit of a heartbreaker to boot. A Black Nonbinary Icon in their own right who used both he and they pronouns and shredded on the bass with a flair for tasty funk rhythms, Gabe was also lowkey jealous that they had a lovely longtime boyfriend—a professional chef named Ash—waiting for them at home.

Together with Warner the five of them made The Peaches what it was, a collective of (mostly) queer weirdos with eclectic tastes. They brought influences from all across the music spectrum, Kiki’s love of metal and Japanese folk music and Frankie’s longstanding obsession with disco, Lance’s jazz and soul influences and Warner’s taste for harder rock and alternative. It was their secret ingredient, the bit of magic that also made them the buzz of the indie scene lately. Gabe wouldn’t have traded any of them for any one else in the world. Even Warner.

“Well you look like shit,” Kiki said bluntly, once she’d heard Gabe and Frankie come in.

“Doesn’t he?” Frankie giggled back, before adding something else in Japanese which made Kiki laugh louder.

He knew the two of them well enough to know whatever she’d said, it wasn’t flattering. But he also knew better than to say anything back, because that would only dig the hole deeper.

Lance just gave him and Frankie one of their signature cool-guy head nods and went back to strumming on their bass, their long thin ring-covered fingers dancing across the frets as they played something intricate and lovely that they’d surely written themselves. They had their long braids down today, tossed casually over their shoulder, while one of their fancier bejewelled septum rings glinted attractively from under their strong, striking nose, the inky black polish on their nails catching the light too as they played.

Frankie set her ridiculous little frog-shaped purse down and pulled her glittery pastel purple guitar out of its case and started tuning while Kiki finally put her Switch away to join them at her kit. There was the pleasant noise of the four of them warming up together, finding their rhythms. Gabe started doing his vocal exercises, pacing around and trying very hard to ignore the lead weight in his stomach as he kept his eye trained on the front door.

Warner was late.

Warner was never late. In over three years of practices, not once had the guy shown up later than ten minutes early. They all made fun of him for it; Frankie liked to say that he wasn’t gonna get a better grade at the end of the semester for always being on time, that he wasn’t cut out for the rockstar lifestyle. And Warner had just smiled good naturedly and mumbled something back about wanting to do the right thing, while Gabe had privately found it incredibly fucking adorable. That was always Warner, affable and sweet, earnest. Golden-haired and easy with a smile.

Was it any wonder Gabe had fallen head over heels for him?

3:45 PM.

Warner was late late. And he hadn’t texted. If Gabe hadn’t literally seen him just an hour or so ago he would have panicked, thinking something had gone wrong. Still the asshole anxious part of his brain tormented him with it any way, horrible flashes of Warner at the bottom of ditch, bleeding out and dying alone, no one the wiser.

But no. Gabe realized, with a sick sinking feeling in the pit of him, that it wasn’t an accident.

Warner just wasn’t coming.

And that fucking asshole hadn’t even bothered to text him.

Fuck.

Just then Lance’s hand went to their pocket, fishing out their phone. Their eyebrows knit in confusion, and Gabe’s heart sunk further.

“Guys, Warner, uh. Says he’s not coming.”

Fucking bastard.

“What?” Kiki said, her eyes going large enough to take up half her face as she spun on her stool, her pigtails swinging wildly. “Is he bleeding from the head? Is he insane? Tour starts in like two weeks!”

“And he couldn’t even call?” Frankie scoffed, eyebrows going lethal as she fiddled with her strings, plucking at them randomly. She hadn’t plugged into her amp yet so there was just a faint discordant jangling, and it felt appropriate. Matched the rhythm of Gabe’s heartbeat.

“We saw him at Mel’s. With Massive Aggression. He’s…I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Kiki cursed loudly in Japanese while Lance whispered a soft little “oh fuck.”

That about summed it up.

And then the rest of the band launched into Damage Control mode while Gabe stood there and felt like the scum of the earth.

“What do we do? Do we know anyone who can cover for him?”

“I mean, Dani’s band is already opening for us, she’s the only person I can think of who could conceivably pick up Will’s solos in time. Shit.” Frankie scrubbed a hand through her hair, staring up at the disco ball glittering down from the ceiling as if she could find the answers reflected in its shiny surface.

“Don’t suppose you wanna pick up lead guitar duties for once, eh?” Lance smirked slightly and Frankie glared at them. It was an old fight-that-wasn’t-really at this point. Frankie would always be Gabe’s right hand woman, his Platonic Life Partner, and she was a fairly good guitarist in her own right, but she preferred letting someone else take the lead parts while she held down the rhythm section. And Lance liked to needle her about it.

“Fuck you.”

Lance chuckled softly and blew her a kiss.

“What about Jesse? He knows like, every fucking band in Vegas, doesn’t he?”

“Well every fucking band in Vegas will probably be busy touring, same as us. You wanna ask him if he has a student he could lend us?”

“You want to tell Rick we’re letting a twelve year old join us on a sold-out national tour?”

The three of them continued to bicker back and forth while Gabe wished he could melt into the floorboards. Fuck. He’d ruined everything, and there the rest of The Peaches were, gamely trying to fix his fuck-ups for him. He didn’t deserve any of them.

He sighed as he fished out his own phone from the too-tight pocket of his painted-on skinny jeans. There was only so much sitting around waiting for someone else to clean up his mess he could handle. It was time to act like the Band Leader, as much as the sick pit of acid-hot dread in his belly tried to convince him it was all ruined beyond saving. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then he pulled up the number quickly.

“Hey Rick?”

There was a hush amongst the rest of The Peaches as Gabe finished the call with Rick’s normal brevity. He’d been their manager almost since the beginning, and all of them both feared and respected the man in equal measure. He dressed like the hapless dad in a 90’s sitcom and acted like a mix between the cattiest queen Gabe had ever met and a bloodthirsty business shark, and he was exactly the kind of fearsome protector they had needed to guide them through all of the shady twists and turns of the music business. The man could be an absolute terror, but it was usually fine as long as you did your best not to be on the receiving end of Hurricane Rick.

Something Gabe had somehow managed to forget, until Rick steamrolled into The Factory seemingly a second later, already in the middle of a call as he swept in.

“You signed a contract, asshole. If you don’t get that tight little twink ass down here and play that fuckin’ guitar like your life literally depends on it—cuz it does—I will wrap you up in so much fucking litigation you’ll look like I let a Japanese pervert let loose on you with a bundle of rope when I’m done. Do you hear me, fucker?”

There was heavy silence as Rick glared down at the phone, Warner’s tinny voice saying something back, before Rick disconnected the call.

And then he rounded on Gabe.

“What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Me?”

“Hey leave him alone!”

“Yeah, it’s not Gabe’s fault!”

“He’s citing ‘artistic differences’ as his reason for taking a ‘leave of absence,’” Rick hissed back, with the air quotes around “artistic differences” and everything. His eyes narrowed then, as if he knew exactly what “artistic differences” was code for.

Gabe’s heart plummeted down by his kidneys with the sudden wave of fresh guilt that hit him. As nice as it was to have his friends defend him, he knew that it was, quite literally, his fault. God, if he hadn’t been such an idiot, throwing himself at the boy like a desperate cock-hungry harlot. No wonder Warner had run screaming for the hills and into the arms of Massive Aggression. He’d fucked up, and he’d known it, but the consequences of his actions still really fucking sucked.

“No, guys, Rick’s right. I’m the leader, this is my mess.”

“Sweetheart I don’t really give a shit whose mess it is, because I’m the one who has to clean it up. So listen up kiddos, because if another one of you fucking brats pulls anymore stupid stunts between now and the start of this fucking tour I will quite literally murder you, and then pay my lovely friend Garett who does taxidermy to stuff your corpse and shove an instrument into it. Alright?” And with that evocative threat hanging in the air, the rest of The Peaches gathered around, and listened as Daddy Rick laid down the law.

[incorrectinfinity]

Ok I am gonna talk about the things I like in this post because it's fresh in my mind and most of these things will be spoilers! Also this could be long.

First of all hi pjo mutuals!!! Idk if any of you are reading this but I really am thankful so many of you decided to stick around despite the Cookie Run hell of it all.

It's been like two years now and even if we haven't talked much in that time, you guys mean a lot to me <3

ANYWAYS THE SUN AND THE STAR!!!!

This book has been on my mind since it was hinted at at the end of TOA, so it's been a sec. The idea of this book actually helped me quite a bit when I wasn't doing very well mentally, which is very sad!

Ok, first thing's first.

Ok my soul can be put to rest now.

Second of all, my statement still stands:

For the most part the queer representation is pretty damn good this time around!

Epiales and Menoetes immediately getting defensive was a bit jarring and a little bit worrying to me but thankfully their bursts of anger about it last like five seconds each.

I'm really glad they say the words gay and queer naturally and not like they're some forbidden line to be crossed in a novel for young teens/late tweens. It genuinely made me smile.

Persephone even bringing up the notion of aromantic people almost made me lose my shit!! I am aromantic!!! That's me!!!! Just like me fr!!!!! But seriously I kinda feel forgotten a lot in queer media and literally any mention of aromanticism makes me smile, it was a very nice thing to see.

That's barely even mentioning the queer characters!

Nico bluntly saying he's gay is so fucking satisfying to see now, it's so nice to see him so comfortable with who he is.

Will canonically being bisexual is really nice to see, I could feel the writers' sigh of relief as they put the discourse to rest.

SPEAKING OF DISCOURSE... Piper MyQueen! It's nice to see a questioning character because I haven't really seen one represented before! She's still figuring herself out after the months following the end of toa and it's nice to see the message that it takes time to figure yourself out being shown because it's a surprisingly rare one to see. I appreciate how she also gravitates towards the queer label :)

Now minor characters:

Epiales: I appreciate them because of how ridiculous their existence is

Hiss-majesty: iconic and also that name makes me confused

Menoetes: my beloved

Geryon: Ok that's just hilarious I cannot deny that

Thirdly....

BIANCA DI ANGELO MY BELOVED MY ULTIMATE FAVE I MISSED YOU HOLY SHIT.

Besides uh....

That. I have LOVED seeing how Bianca and Maria have affected Nico over the years! It's so tragic and amazing and YES.

Seeing Bianca one last time and Maria for the first time ever was so so so satisfying even if they didn't say much. I almost teared up a bit. A lot. I got emotional.

Nyx using them against Nico was SO fucked up and I love it

Speaking of... Nyx.

Design.

Design.

Very cool, moving on.

Hades and Persephone's growth was so unexpected I am just gonna be real.

Hades was going to happen naturally because of what we say in HoO but him caring enough to send Nico a prophecy? And bring back Maria and Bianca? That's so sweet! I love that! I love that SO much! And also he isn't completely not an asshole which is appreciated.

Persephone is my favorite one of Riordan's interpretations of the gods.

I never thought I would say that sentence ever in my life. She's so caring and sweet for the 10 minutes we see her and I really appreciate her growth and seeing how she's finally getting over her grudge. It was unexpected and completely welcome.

Also I appreciate clarifying that Hades and Persephone's relationship is a good one from Persephone herself.

Also Nemesis is a badass and I did not realize how much I missed her! She has no reason so be so cool and yet she still is.

Gorgyra's chapters were all wonderful, I love her SO much and I hope Bob visits her sometime.

Speaking of which: Bob and Small Bob are amazing as always.

I appreciate the theme of change around Bob's character, he's different from how I remember him being is HoH but that's probably more natural than Nico's change in character (which I don't mind as much as most people I've seen but is still jarring) because of him and Iapetus switching every two seconds for over a year so yeah.

Small Bob is Small Bob. Cat. Gato. Wonderful.

Will actually having more of a character was nice to see too! Also his ultimate magic hidden deep within being hayfever is very funny to me.

Actually talking about the trauma these characters have been through and addressing it is also very satisfying.

Overall I think it was a good send off to these kids who have been through too damn much. I will have a post airing my criticisms probably but I really did like this lovable train wreck of a book, me from two years ago would be very pleased.

Can't wait for the road trip book where both Percy and Annabeth come out as bisexual simultaneously and for this series to be OVER!!!

[winderlylandchime]

I’m sending this a bit late/early my time so I’m sorry if there’s any typos but I figured I should at least send you this and then when I wake up I’ll send you the episode updates!

I can’t believe that people from Europe know about my brother, this fame is definitely going to go into his head once he finds out.

And yes about the bar/drag queens! It’s an entire family type of situation. So from what I know, my brother was having a bad day and he came across this random bar that’s not that far away from where he lives. So he figured, fuck it, get drunk because he had a really bad day. And then before he even finished his 2nd drink(his words) random music started blasting, people started screaming and then one of the workers announced the beginning of some show. And then one of the drag queens came on and performed and he fell in love with the bar. He apparently lost quite a lot of money because he was giving it all away to the queens performing. And after the performance he said that the lovely queen came up to the bar and he bought her a drink and was all tipsy going on and on about how he had a shitty day and now bc of her he cant even remember what he was sad about. And then the next day at the same time he dragged our dad to it. And mom told me they came home drunk as fuck and both of them broke bc they gave all their money away. So then after that day they both dragged our mom to it and the outcome was basically similar. Tipsy and broke and in love with drag queens. But the day that they started to like actually acknowledge his existence was when he brought our grandma to the bar and she was so excited over them and told all of them that her grandson has been going on and on about how unbelievable their performances are. And somehow they just adopted him because he is dumb as fuck while also weirdly smart at times and random stupid shit happens to him all the time. But I have to admit that I have no clue how they became his girls. He refuses to tell me and our parents also don’t know. Anyway, our family is now a regular customer at that bar and my dad and mom have date nights there all the time which is also how everyone at the bar kept being informed about his recovery. BUT!! We did find out that it was OUR MOM WHO HELPED THEM PICK PHOTOS OF BRIAN FOR THE SHIRT! They were gonna go with a photo of Gale but my mom said it should be Brian instead since he’s in love with him. Also the time for him to tell our mom about his wrist is coming closer and closer and he is trying to come up with different versions of telling her. He even wrote down ideas. I swear he keeps forgetting that he is 36.

I LOVE YOUR FAMILY! I love that your brother stumbled into this random bar not realizing it was a queer bar, got uplifted by the drag performance, spent all his money on the queens, and then dragged your dad back with him and now everyone in the family goes there. Including grandma!

YOUR MOM HELPED THE DRAG QUEENS PICK PHOTOS OF BRIAN/GALE FOR THE OFFICIAL UNOFFICIAL MERCH. I love this!

YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE DATE NIGHTS TO THE DRAG BAR.

I love your family. I have to say it again.

I think tumblr is going to want to be adopted by your family.

[thinkatoryprocess]

Girl Kendall/Naomi? Girl Kendall/Nate? Girl Kendall/Lukas? Girl Kendall/Rava?

Does she still have kids?

What a buffet of options.

Beneath a read more so I don't destroy people's pages by writing a whole goddamn fanfic under there, but I address all of the above.

Kendall dips in and out of her relationship with Stewy because more than once she's broken up with him in the middle of an episode and decided to justify herself post facto by finding someone else. Now it's not really a secret that Kendall is a hot mess, but she doesn't actually commit to anyone who treats her like total trash, so she winds up with some decent relationships in the midst of the ongoing thing with Stewy - and, to be clear, only one or two of these people think that they can ever compete with Kendall and Stewy's whole thing. She'll go back to him. They're just here for the ride while they can get it.

Kendall dates Nate when she's young and in the heat of a long manic episode, and Stewy is a fucking mess about it. They're a surprisingly good match, if nothing else because he can keep up with her and will head into those dark and crazy places with her while not being a dirtbag. She's too embarrassed as she comes down to admit she wants to go back to Stewy, but Nate realizes how sad she is and forces a breakup on her behalf. He's not usually that nice, but he's not interested in trapping her in a thing with him, either.

Kendall's relationship with Rava is her first queer relationship, and she is desperate to keep it under wraps. Rava's being totally reasonable about things, but Kendall is in rough enough straits with Logan as it is, so she's terrified of blowback if it all comes to light. It did work some of the time, and could've worked long term, if Kendall had been less scared of anything seeing the light of day.

Kendall's relationship with Naomi is her second queer relationship, and by this point she's older and more willing to risk a little more. Also, Logan already threw rumors about her being a lesbian in her face, so what the hell at this point. Naomi and Kendall are both addicts and they both care about each other but they also have the same kind of stare-death-in-the-eye thing going, which is not great for both members of a couple to have if their continued walk in a sane and reasoned direction can be expected. Eventually Stewy actually intervenes and there is a very dramatic thing where Kendall flips out at his intervention only for her to break down and leave with him without hesitation.

Now we come to Kendall/Lukas. When Kendall meets Lukas, she and Stewy are in talks about getting back together after a fight about the freezing of embryos. Neither of them can figure out if having kids is a good idea, and neither of them wants to say no, but neither of them is ready to make a decisive yes, either. It's a painfully long fight and they put some distance, at which time Kendall meets Lukas at Argestes. He makes a pass at her, but he's so weird, but so intense, and she's immediately intrigued. The problem is he lives across the Atlantic. She isn't sure she's ready to go back to Stewy - some things were said that everyone still needs to recover from - but also starting something new feels like a bad idea, too. All this kind of goes flying out the window when Lukas says something that only someone with that kind of deathspiral in their head would find romantic or arousing or both, and Kendall says nothing as she drags him up to her hotel room to bang his soul out of his body. They date and absolutely adore each other but everyone around them knows this is a very bad idea. Stewy's stuck watching this from the sidelines, but Logan cuts in with Kendall before he gets a chance to. You're too old to be this embarrassing, he says. Get your shit together. Kendall lashes out at Logan before she realizes what she's doing, he hits her, and Kendall immediately drops everything, figures her shit out, and goes back to Stewy without ever explaining what happened. She cries a lot for a day or two, then she's back to normal.

Kendall goes into treatment after leaving Lukas and returning to Stewy, and is placed on medication in the process. She and Stewy are in their mid-to-late thirties when they marry, and 40 when they have their first kid via IVF. (See, Dad? She's totally stable now. Everything's fine.)

[gothicprep]

man, I’m really sad to hear lindsay ellis is leaving youtube. i read her patreon post related to it this morning and it genuinely made me so sad – the raya tweet was by far the most bullshit thing I’ve seen someone get mass mobbed for on social media. and, like, let me be honest here: I really think that was deliberately a bad faith takedown. atla and raya arent fucking “asian art” lmfao, it’s western art that takes aesthetic inspiration from east Asia, and the honest trailers channel pointed out how their story structures paralleled one another like months before lindsay tweeted that

to be honest I don’t get why people… care. I’m not someone who knows lindsay personally and if I disagree with a take of hers about disney movies, it literally has no bearing on my life. there’s something like 22,000 youtubers who have more than a million subscribers. So I don’t think you can really pull the “she’s a public figure” card when it’s more of a reflection of her being popular in lefty circles. and as for the “influencers influence people, therefore we HAVE to talk shit on them because…” line that you’ll hear on tea channels and shit like that, that also scans as a weak argument to me. just gives absolutely no credit to audiences (which I shouldn’t be too shocked by, considering the uptick in “if the media doesn’t explicitly say Thing Bad, how will people know it’s wrong to commit murder?! guffaw!”) and it’s very “free will doesn’t exist” of everyone. and if you’re arguing against free will, you can’t argue in favor of accountability lmfao. but this isn’t a post about metaphysics, so I’ll leave it there

when I think of this stuff, I think about the interview the NYT did with the girl who used to moderate the “your fave is problematic” blog, and she basically straight up admitted she did that because she wanted to knock powerful people down a peg. i hope the people who really seem to indulge in this stuff will be eventually lucid enough to admit this to themselves

& she brings up “hot allostatic load” and it really… took me aback that weve been having versions of this conversation since 2015, but it’s somehow gotten worse and has transcended interpersonal feminist & queer circles, into the gladiator arena that is bird hell dot gov. like, when is this going to end?

this is more a loose collection of thoughts than an actual Post because I’m just mad and vomiting onto my keyboard but… iunno. shits exhausting to see. there’s net zero benefit to traumatizing random youtubers because Tweet Dumb

[loving-villanelle]

oh god i just saw a picture of flowers someone left on the bridge for villanelle with a letter and i’m crying my eyes out 😭 i don’t know why v dying hurt so much, like sooo much, i’ve never seriously felt like this towards any fictional character before. i think it’s because there was something so deeply touching in her. something recognizable.  yeah she was a murderer blah blah who cares BUT she was also so human. she was abused and traumatized, she was told over and over again no-one could ever love her when all she ever wanted was to find love and belonging. she was so real, unapologetic, wonderfully dykey, funny and deep.  and i fucking miss her so much. i’m never gonna forgive what they did to her in that show. first made her be sad and lost and suffering for seasons and then to end it with the classic BYG trope. rest in power my sweet girl 😢 if i was i london i would go to the bridge to have a silent moment in her honor. 

There's a gofundme for flowers to be placed at the KE popup in Liverpool or the Tower bridge in London, with any left over proceeds going to the Killing Eve memorial fund for the Trevor Project. I highly encourage everyone to donate to honor our girl and support our queer community.

Villanelle was so raw. When you stripped back all the preconceived notions of this "killer", you saw that she is just like the rest of it. Just struggling to figure it all out and find her place. But even within those struggles she was strong and funny and so wonderfully full of life and promise. And yes she was dykey. Like V was so so SO gay. Which was so refreshing to see because so much representation that we do get is still so feminized and reserved. Like you really only know they're gay because they kiss other women. Villanelle screamed this is who I am and with no apologies for it. She walked around with BDE (as she should) and was just unapologetically herself.

I'll be in London in June and I know that's a ways off, but if there's anything we would like to do to honor her, I'd be happy to do it while I'm there. Rest in power V baby, you deserved so much better

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

i ain’t gonna face no defeat

in which alex was a figure skater.

word count: 2,916

some willex, juke if you squint

tw: occasional swearing, period-typical homophobic parents (q word is used as a slur exactly once)

———

“Cut off my circulation even more, why don’t you?” Alex grumbles, grabbing his arm away from his sister.

She rolls her eyes and nudges him as he adjusts the arm band. “Hey, feel lucky you’re even doing this. I don’t think Mom and Dad actually realize what you’re skating to.”

Alex hesitates and sucks on his teeth. “You think they’ll be mad?”

“Oh, they’ll be livid,” she deadpans, then smiles softly. “But they can’t stop you.” She gives him a pat on the shoulder as he leans over to pull on his boot covers. “I’m gonna head to the bleachers. Break a leg!”

Alex calls after her, not looking up, “That’s only for theater and you know it, Mel!”

A few minutes later, he’s called to the boards, and he can’t shake off his damn jitters. He knows he’ll be fine once the music starts, but right now his skate guard won’t come off and he really has to pee all of a sudden and oh my god why is he wearing a tank top when it’s so fucking cold—

Alex steps onto the ice, and the announcer calls his name while he glides into a stretch before taking his beginning pose. He ignores the way his arm, raised in a fist, is shaking while the beginning harmonies start to play, and he skates.

•••

Alex began figure skating when he was six. It was an odd situation, really; he didn’t care about doing it one way or another, and he would’ve been fine with not doing it since his parents would always say it was a girl’s sport. His little sister, Melanie, however, wanted to skate so badly, but with her being the four-year-old she was, she was terrified of doing it alone. Begrudgingly, his parents signed him up for lessons alongside her.

Much to their dismay, he was good. Like, really fucking good. He landed his first single jump after only two years, and his first axel after six. He managed to get height in a way that his coach’s other skaters didn’t; maybe it was the inner pent up anxiety making him bounce like a jumping bean, who knows.

Alex wasn’t just good at jumps, either; he got his Y-spin after four years. He was that kid on the ice who accidentally cut people off with an impeccable spiral. When he practiced his programs, the other kids would move towards the boards to give him room and sneak a glance.

As much as Alex liked the attention from his peers (god, that support system was something else), he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his parents never sat in on his sessions. They would only ever come to the shows and competitions his sister was a part of; he had to find his own ride to the others (thank god for Bobby's parents, honestly). It had made him angry at first that they didn’t want to be involved, but as he grew older, and learned more about himself, he realized he could use it to his advantage. He could skate to anything he wanted.

Alex was 13 when he chose to skate to Somebody to Love. To anyone else, it was very unassuming, just another kid skating to a popular song at the time, maybe even a tribute, since Freddie himself had passed two months before. It was everything to Alex, though. He pulled out all of the stops; his costume was the whole armband and wifebeater getup, and his coach let him assist in choreographing it.

He didn't know it was his last program.

•••

"Hey, Alex?"

He looks up from his math homework and hums in recognition.

Mel bites her lip and leans against the doorframe before mumbling, "I wanna quit."

Quit? Shit, nonononono— "—nonononono, Mel, you can't quit! If you quit, they're gonna make me quit!"

She closes the door softly behind her and walks slowly up to him. "Alex, the only reason I've been skating for the past year was so you could keep doing it. I'm really sick of skating at this point, and I wanna switch to something else. I'll keep going if you really, really want me to, but—" She sits next to him on his bed, lowering her voice to a whisper, "You saw how they reacted to the recital, 'Lex. You think they might make you quit anyway?"

Alex sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. She's right, he knows she's right. It just fucking sucks.

He tilts his head back. "You can quit," he whispers.

Mel places her hand on his and squeezes, whispering back, "I'm sorry." Alex looks back down at her. "I really with there was something we could do, but there isn't," she continues, recollecting her hand. "At least your last program was a good one."

He gives her a sad chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so. And, I'll have more time to focus on the band. Luke'll be happy about that."

Mel rolls her eyes, takes a breath, and leaves Alex to his own devices with a pitying look.

If she hears him practicing the beat to Somebody to Love in the basement the night she officially quits, she doesn't say anything.

•••

"Julie, what are you doing up there?"

Julie throws a shoe over the wall of the loft and into the evergrowing pile on the floor. "Cleaning out all of your old junk. Which one of you had a magician phase?" she asks, holding up a cheap, ratty top hat and matching plastic wand. "It was Reggie, wasn't it?"

Alex chuckles to himself, poofing up next to Julie. "Why do you think he knew who Caleb was when we met him?"

Julie lets out a loud laugh, continuing her digging. "Are the other guys here?"

"Nah, they're looking for a gig. I just got back from the park," Alex answers.

“Just the park?” Julie asks sarcastically, and before Alex can retort, she adds on, standing up straight, “Hey, whose skates are these?”

She’s holding his old figure skates in her right hand.

The black fabric is a little faded, with the familiar scuffs still on the toe. His dark blue skate guards are all dusty, but the blades still somehow look intact, given there wasn’t much opportunity for water damage in a loft.

Alex scratches the back of his neck, ignoring the rising blush in his cheeks and bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. “Those, uh, those are mine, actually.”

Julie looks up from the boots at him in awe. “Whoa, you skated? That’s so cool!”

Alex drops his hand, mouth open in hesitation. “Really? It’s not... weird to you?”

He can recall a tight grip on his arm, firmer than the band that had been ripped off. "Alex, what made you think it was okay to pull off this kind of stunt? You don't want people thinking you're some kind of queer, do you? Why we've let you continue this is beyond me, it isn’t any good for you.”

“Why would it be weird?” Julie asks, quirking her head to the side in such a Julie way that Alex would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried.

He shrugs, shuffling his feet from side to side, and mumbles with a wince, “I don’t know, because I’m a guy and figure skating is like, a girly sport, I guess?”

Julie shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed with a soft smile on her face. “First off, it’s not inherently girly, and second, if it’s something that you enjoyed, then that’s what matters, right?”

“I guess so,” Alex replies, looking down at his sneakers. Is that all that matters, though? He pauses for a moment in debate, then adds on at Julie’s encouraging expression, “My parents made me quit when I was fourteen.” He takes a breath. “They were never that involved in it, though, they actually only let me because my sister did it. I, uh, after I skated to a Queen song in a full Freddie Mercury getup, they weren’t too happy, and made me quit.”

At some point in his spiel, Julie had put her hand on his shoulder, and now she was squeezing it before pulling him into a hug. “Your parents are stupid,” she mumbled into his chest.

Alex chuckles, something emotionless, a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah. They were.”

Julie pulls away with a gasp, a bright smile on her face. “We should all go skating this weekend! The public rink just opened up a couple weeks ago, and I can bring Flynn so it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself—” she falters, cutting herself off, “I mean, if you’re cool with it. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alex thinks back to his many (many) practice sessions, and remembers the feeling of finally getting that move right, of flying in the air for that one glorious millisecond, of seeing some of his closest friends every other day. He misses it, of course he misses it. It was his biggest outlet before he focused all of his attention on drumming. But, he can’t help but feel that stupid fucking guilt clawing at his throat, can’t help but imagine oh, so clearly the look of betrayal on his mother’s face the night he came out.

Then again, he had lived the rest of his life out of spite of his parents. Why not keep it going?

“That sounds really fun,” he replies, pulling her back in. “Thank you.”

•••

A world sans Caleb was a new one to Willie. However, it was also a very welcome one, because it was in this world that he was able to just relax with Alex in the studio, enjoying every second they spend together without worrying about the time running out.

Which is why he was (reasonably) surprised when the time ran out.

They throw Alex an impressively offended look as he removed his arm from behind their shoulder. “What?”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Willie scoffed.

Alex chuckles to himself, pressing his lips into a line. "As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle with you—" At that, Willie's face goes bright red, and Alex counts it as a win in his head, "—the band and I are going ice skating when Flynn gets here, which should be in about five minutes."

"Oh," Willie's face brightens as they reply, "sounds fun!"

Alex winces. "Yeah, making sure Luke doesn't accidentally become tangible and run over a seven-year-old while playing human bowling on the ice with Reggie is super fun." Willie laughs something golden in response, and Alex only hesitates for a moment before adding on, "Uh- actually, would you want to come with us?"

Willie grows soft, still getting used to finally being included, but quickly schools his expression before replying, "Yeah, I'd love to! Though, fair warning, I'm kind of only good at the one kind of skating?"

Alex quickly scrunches his nose. "That's fine, I'll help you," he offers, slowly untangling himself from Willie.

Willie isn't sure how much help he's really gonna be, but they figure even an amateur would be better than whatever the fuck kind of Bambi creature he is on the ice, so they nod and pull Alex up by his hand off the couch.

•••

They arrived to the rink a few minutes ago, and while Julie and Flynn are buying their rental skates and Luke, Reggie, and Willie attempt to steal some without being noticed, Alex laces up his own skates by himself on an open bench.

It isn't until after he yanks the last bow that he realizes— putting on those skates should not have been that easy.

Yeah, their clothes are usually easy to put on, and they can summon their instruments any time they want, but touching anything else usually takes an immense amount of focus. Hell, the dahlia pin Julie had bought Luke for his guitar strap took five tries to actually hook on rather than just drop to the ground.

And yet, his skates just— went on? Laced up with no problem? His foot didn't go through the sole even once? He wiggles his toes around inside the boot, and only feels the familiar push of fabric against them.

He decides not to question it, to not think about the implications of his skates possibly being attached to his soul, and tries to avoid yet another afterlife crisis as they walk toward the boards. Or, at least, he walks, while Luke just bolts onto the ice with no hesitation, and Reggie quickly follows. Alex falls back behind Julie and Flynn, who step onto the ice and begin gliding around, and Willie somehow finds their way next to him, grabbing onto his hand. They make it to the door, and Willie lets go with a small nudge to the shoulder. "Alright, hotdog, show me what you've got," he jokes.

Alex lets out a small laugh and steps out onto the ice, a weird feeling of deja-vu settling into his nonexistent bones. Once he gathers his bearings, he glides along before maneuvering closer to the middle of the ice and pulling himself into a scratch spin. It takes him a minute to really center the spin, but with the phantom tingling of blood rushing to the tips of his fingers before he pulls in completely, suddenly it's 1990 and he's doing his Lacrimosa program and he wants to try to land every jump he's ever learned, even though he knows that trying his axel right now is a horrible idea, and—

He's exited the spin now, looking back at the door to see Willie about a foot away from it, gripping the wall with a concerning amount of intensity, an odd combination of fear, shock, and something else (awe, maybe?) coming to rest on their face. He skates back over, and Willie's expression doesn't seem to change. "You—" they swallow, "—you can skate."

Alex slides his feet back and forth, his arms behind his back. "Yeah, I figure skated for eight years, actually. Did, did I not mention that?" he asks, smirking a little, knowing damn well he very much never mentioned that.

Willie closes his eyes, sucks on his teeth, and takes a breath, getting over their minor bluescreen moment. "Help me?"

"In order for me to help you, you need to let go of the boards," Alex responds. Willie looks at the boards, then back at him, eyebrows furrowed. "It'll hurt a lot more falling into two flat surfaces rather than one," Alex reasons, and Willie hesitates before finally letting go.

"There we go," Alex says softly, taking both of Willie's hands in his. He begins to slowly pull them along, not caring about passing through lifers, while Willie's feet slip and slide beneath him. Alex tries his hardest not to laugh, and Willie quips, "I thought I was supposed to be the athletic one."

Alex scoffs, "Who told you that? Are you the one lugging around an entire drumset every weekend?" At Willie's laugh, Alex tacks on, "I didn't think so."

They make a full lap around the rink before Alex lets go, having to prevent Luke and Reggie from pulling on some little girl’s milk boxes to make her go faster, because no, that’s not how physics works, and yes, people will notice, Luke.

After, Willie moves to get off at the boards, and Alex pulls a disappointed pout. Willie just motions toward the ice, saying, "I know you didn't just come here to pull me around the whole time, I wanna see your turns and stuff."

Alex hesitates, "But I don't want to leave you here by yourself—"

He’s cut off by a familiar harmony playing in the background, and Luke and Reggie poof by his side in an instant. Alex barely has any time to register it before Reggie is putting a hand on his shoulder and Luke is asking if he’s okay.

And Alex doesn’t know how to answer that right away, if he’s being honest. At first, he thinks he might not be, because all he remembers is scolding, leaving, hiding, but he reminds himself it’s 2020 and he’s a ghost; that his parents are as involved in what was left of his life now as they were when he came out— not at all. The feeling of freedom starts to envelope him; the same freedom as when he danced with Dirty Candy at Eat ‘n’ Beats, the same freedom as when he played the drums at the Orpheum, and the same freedom he had before his last recital. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex replies, trying to hide his newfound itching to just get back out there.

Reggie drops his hand from his shoulder with a smile; meanwhile, Luke catches notice of Julie and Flynn starting a mini snow fight, to which he immediately races over and shouts, “I want in!” Reggie just shrugs and poofs over. Whether to stop him or join, the world may never know.

Alex rolls his eyes at his friends’ antics and looks back over at Willie, anxious energy seemingly radiating off of him— except, not as it usually does; now it was more excitement than anything else.

“Go show off, Alex,” Willie says, shooting him away with a smile.

Alex unsuccessfully tries to suppress the overwhelming giddy feeling that rises in his chest, and he skates. Again.

Finally.