#i was honestly watching it going is he meant to be trans? but no apparently that was not the intention and they were just doing

[canmom]

dog day

went down to a local queer film thingy today and saw Dog Day Afternoon, in which Al Pacino plays attempted bank robber John Wojtowicz (nicknamed 'Sonny' in the film) who in 1972 ended up running a hostage situation and siege he really didn't intend to be in - someone who's a bit of a cause célèbre in these parts because honestly what's more iconic than robbing a bank to pay for your trans wife's bottom surgery?

(this is the real Wojtowicz during the event)

as a movie it's absolutely really solid. Pacino definitely does a fantastic job giving us a sympathetic portrayal of the increasingly harried Sonny trying to juggle all the competing elements of the robbery - reassuring his partner Sal, negotiating with the cops outside, managing the hostages. on a pure narrative level, it's a great screenplay, both full of escalating tension and capturing the humour of the unlikely camaraderie that forms between the robbers and their hostages. they get a lot out of the contrast between mundane concerns (not swearing) and the extreme situation, and it generally works really well.

the film portrays Sonny accidentally stumbling into being a folk hero - his televised calls in which he mentions the Attica massacre, and interactions with the crowd outside, becoming central the narrative that forms around the attempted robbery. it's compelling stuff even today - indeed the whole sensibility of it, the sympathetic bi and trans characters, the sympathy for all the characters, felt very modern.

speaking of, not really quite knowing the timespan of Al Pacino's career (I've still seen very few of his movies), I kinda assumed this movie would have been made, say, a couple decades after the robbery. so I was very impressed with how well it nailed the 70s period aesthetic... which turns out to be for a very simple reason, this movie was made in 1975, just three years after the events it portrays. which is wild to me, don't filmmakers normally wait a bit for it to be less 'the news' before they fictionalise the events? anyway it was a big deal in its day, scooping up a bunch of oscars.

this makes it quite interesting to look back because it really is a slice of how people felt about shit back in the 70s - as edited by the filmmakers of course, but every sentiment in this film is a genuine 70s sentiment by definition, right? the justified distrust of the police, the highly political gay angle, that's all shit we're hashing out today still. all these characters feel very much like real people out of their depth, and it's interesting to read about the process of filming it involving a fair amount of improvised elaboration.

anyway that all has the fascinating consequence that Wojtowicz was alive and watched the movie made about him. apparently there was a whole campaign to get the film screened for Wojtowicz in prison, which meant he could make a critique of it. as a result, he could write to the newspaper criticising their portrayal (via wikipedia). evidently the filmmakers took quite some liberties for drama - Wojtowicz calls it 'about 30% accurate'.

for example they portray him as still having been with his cis wife 'Angie' (irl, Carmen) at the time of the robbery, and add a fictionalised meeting with his mother where she is dismissive of Angie for weight etc., suggesting that it's somehow her fault that Sonny should go and do something as unseemly as have a relationship with a trans woman. as I took it, it's a portrayal of his mother's prejudice which the film broadly rejects - but in any case, all of that was just straight-up made up for the film, presumably because of the drama that the trans wife vs cis wife angle brings. in reality it seems that Wojtowicz separated from Carmen two years before the robbery, and he disputes her characterisation in the film (he's actually quite rude about the actress who portrays her, who to me looked like a regular-ass woman).

A third scene shows me speaking to my female wife, Carmen, on the telephone. (The actress who portrays her in the movie is an ugly and greasy looking women with a big mouth, when in real life my wife is beautiful and very loving wife.) I did try to call her, but the F.B.I. cut the phone lines and air conditioning before I could get to speak to her on the line. I did not like the horrible way they tried to make her the blame or the scapegoat for everything that happened, especially because of the Gay aspects involved. (...) First, the actress playing my wife, Carmen, made her look horrible and inferred that I left her and winded up in the arms of a Gay man because of her. This is completely untrue, and I feel sorry for the actress for having to play such a horrible role.

this is perhaps something of an aspect where values drift between when the film was made and the present. to us the idea that 'cis woman is ugly/unloving so guy is gay' is just laughable homophobic nonsense, something that the mother or the unfortunate estranged wife might believe but clearly not true - but Wojtowicz apparently felt that was a plausible editorial angle being suggested by the film, which he needed to correct.

but honestly it's Sonny's partner Sal who truly gets the short end of the portrayal stick here. he is pretty much set up with death flags from the early on - he's got greasy hair, he's taciturn, glowering, religious, kinda ignorant, and the one who's actually willing to go through with killing the hostages - in contrast to the charismatic, beleagured Sonny who definitely is framed as being in over his head and not likely to actually do it.

so when Sal's killed abruptly at the end of the film it's essentially framed as tragic but kinda inevitable, the only way they were going to get him to stand down. according to Wojtowicz, he was actually already immobilised when the FBI killed him, and Wojtowicz disputes that it was necessary to kill him.

the only photo I have of the real Salvator Naturile is a grainy police mugshot which is inevitably far from flattering! in this portrait he has somewhat similar hair to his film portrayal but the actor in the film is 39-year-old John Cazale.

the film has the main FBI goon (truly the most FBI looking FBI goon you've ever seen) warn Sonny that they're going to kill Sal; Sonny hides this from Sal as the group make their way to the airport in the bus he demanded, allowing Sal to be tricked into lowering his weapon so the FBI can suddenly kill him and arrest Sonny. the way the film suggests it played out, Sonny implicitly figures out that flying to maybe Algeria was not really on the cards, but makes an effort to keep the ball rolling all the same, to stop Sal from killing anyone and perhaps from some delusional doublethink hope they'll all manage to fly away in the end.

the real Wojtowicz was pretty appalled at this implication. he writes:

Now to one of the most despicable parts of the film. In it they hint very dramatically that I made some kind of a deal to betray my partner, Sal. It hurt me that the same F.B.I. who cold-bloodedly killed an 18-year-old boy can be depicted as having me help then. This is not true and there is no human being low enough in this world who would let the F.B.I. kill his partner in order for him to survive. It can be labeled as just Hollywood trying to sell a movie or just to increase the drama, but I call it sick.

Wojtowicz's trans wife Elizabeth Eden is portrayed in the film with a male name 'Leon', by Chris Sarandon. As I read it at the screening, the film portrays a time the line between 'gay' and 'trans' was far less clear-cut; Sonny is declared a 'homosexual' for his relationship with 'Leon', and refers to her with male pronouns despite calling her his wife. This appears broadly to be accurate: in Wojtowicz's letter, he refers to Eden as Ernie, and calls her his 'male lover'. He praises Chris Sarandon's performance, writing:

I feel he did it perfectly. If in real life Ernie had said those things and done those actions, he would have done them exactly as Chris did them. In the telephone scene between Pacino and himself his performance was unfathomable and a tribute to his mastery of an unbelievably difficult role. I was moved to tears by it because the realism was there and so professionally done.

the film paints 'Leon' as not supporting the robbery and actually wishing to escape from the increasingly erratic and violent Sonny - there's a compelling scene where they speak on the phone while the cops tune in. but is any of that actually true? Wojtowicz doesn't defend himself from any of that portrayal in the letter beyond briefly saying that 'some of what they both said ... were true statements of facts', even though they weren't discussed during the actual robbery.

all these inaccuracies notwithstanding, some good did come of the film for the main couple. consistent with Wojtowicz's stated intent, the film portrays Sonny as motivated in large part by paying for Leon's bottom surgery (in the film they call it a 'sex change operation', and the suggestion seems to be that Leon will only be a woman after that), and a scene near the end sees Sonny dictating. in reality, the filmmakers paid Wojtowicz $7500 for the use of his story (though he says they had agreed to give him more and did not honour that deal), and he used some of that money to pay for the real Elizabeth Eden's bottom surgery so... in a sense robbing a bank does pay, if you do it in a stylish enough way to get a movie made of you!

looking back on this whole thing nearly 50 years after the event... both the main characters portrayed in it are dead. Elizabeth Eden died during the AIDS crisis in the mid 80s - by that point Wojtowicz was out of prison and was able to give her a eulogy. Wojtowicz himself made it to 60, dying of cancer in 2006. both seem to have lead pretty regular lives. and now what remains is this movie, which found in their lives a suitably dramatic 125 minutes of screen time, where they could both come to represent something bigger.

most films I tend to watch depict entirely fictional events, so it's interesting watching a film which purports to portray something real. I end up thinking about all the ways in which turning it into film makes it artificial, simplifies people into characters. the way camera angles and lighting are arranged to inform us of a character's emotional state. the way the chaotic events are organised into a series of arcs of rising and falling tension, the rhythms of tense confrontations on the street and quiet moments inside the bank, the sense of space it creates between the outside (full of crowds and cops with guns where every movement is risky) and inside (where people can, ironically, play around with guns or have mundane medical problems). everything gradually escalating as new problems arise and their consequences play out - and all the boring hours of the robbery are elided, but still suggested by the changing costumes and lighting.

sifting through the chaos of life and making narrative out of it is what films do of course, and this film does it better than most, but it's weird to think about that. to try and imagine what it would be like to have a film made out of me, what dramatic choices they would make. biopics of 'great people' are well established, but this is a film about pretty ordinary people who did something kinda crazy once, and about the systems that they acted within.

very interesting movie, definitely holds up very well, much to think about. big shoutout to Small Trans Library for screening it, really looking forward to whatever they have for us next in a couple weeks.

[terezipyropescrocs]

saw the barbie movie and am finally free to be a Hater on main without being accused of criticizing something without having watched it- anyway here is a non-exhaustive list of my Thoughts

this movie could have been nothing but fun dance numbers :(

i will say.........i like the costumes and barbieland set design. comparatively the way the real world is shot is so drab and visually uninteresting imo which. i don't feel is great given how much time we spend in it and that barbie ends up living there

the fact that barbies are supposedly affected by the people playing with them but they all act like..... That. just how shallow do they think kids imaginations are? why is there only one "weird" barbie???

admittedly i've never been to LA so maybe i'm completely off-base here but am i expected to believe that ken is automatically respected and admired (but not ogled! with no undertones of violence!) just for existing while my man is constantly dressed like he walked straight from a pride parade

on that note there was a lot of queer subtext/references but it was all very... wink wink nudge nudge in a way that honestly felt a little, idk, uncomfortable to me? but nothing overtly inclusive or even that subversive really

like with the construction workers scene i honestly can't tell if this was meant to be a trans positive moment or just a joke about them being dolls but if so it's like. you have these sexist catcallers but they support trans identities...? literally just as incoherent as everything else going on in this movie

why is barbie simply allowed to walk right into a school cafeteria

gloria and her daughter's relationship and the conflict between them was... very ill defined aside from the apparently all consuming and ever present suffocation of Womanhood™ like wtf is with sasha's line about hating women being the one thing everyone agrees on???? it's the kind of pseudo-pithy cynicism-laced quote that i would expect from a bitter 50s housewife or aging hollywood star, not a teenage girl who, idk, overuses buzzwords?

actually come to think of it pretty much all the female relationships in this movie are very surface-level and hinge almost exclusively on their shared gender identity and not much else!

the fact that all of the barbies were brainwashed to the point where they couldn't even remember their own achievements from ken mansplaining the patriarchy to them.......... and the fact that this is """explained""" with a fucked up and insensitive smallpox joke......... i am mad enough to spit tacks actually

pretty much the only thing i could think of during gloria's big feminist speech and subsequent appeals to the brainwashed barbies is that nothing she's saying actually applies to any of the dolls' experiences "You have to be their mommies but not remind them of their mommy." they don't have parents gloria

the use of push by matchbox twenty in the context of the movie sure is a Choice, seeing as the singer based it off a relationship where he was being emotionally abused by his girlfriend but had the lyrics widely misinterpreted as misogynistic.... anyway.

the way that all of the kens (and even allan) resort to violence and all of the barbies defeat them using manipulation and ~feminine wiles~.. thanks i hate it

i did like how the kens seemed to overcome their differences through singing and holding hands. also fellas is it toxic masculinity to want your girlfriend To see the man behind the tan / And fight for me?

confused by ken's "kenough" revelation from talking to barbie because he.... literally just sang all of that? I’m just Ken / And I’m enough / And I’m great at doing stuff / So, hey, check me out / Yeah, I’m just Ken is that all supposed to be just bravado? it's the same message but he needed barbie to articulate it to him for it to sink in. hm.

feel like barbie's motives for wanting to live in the real world could have been explored better because tbh... the pitch wasn't great!

like her arc is genuinely: experience insecurity for the first time ever because someone else was projecting it onto her > get over said insecurity (that till this point she had never struggled with) because that same person made a speech > gynecologist

not that gloria, the woc who all of barbie's issues represent and originated from gets any kind of satisfying resolution of her own other than pitching "everyday barbie"

the fact that barbie gaining an expanded range of emotions, many of which are negative, indicates that she is no longer a barbie and has to live in the real world to be fufilled- even though all of the insecurities barbie gained from entering a world that doesn't value her and not having a specific career, ken already HAD. men are automatically more human by default ig!!!

people saying that whole point of the ending is that barbieland is a mirror to the real world and the kens will only gain equality when women do as if it's not explicitly stated that the kens have LESS power and influence then women under the patriarchy... but that's fine because the barbies are nicer then men in the real world and kens have to earn their rights because we don't want to reward bad behavior and they need to prove their competence first /s

saw some other butches mention this but the fact that sasha dresses increasingly feminine to represent her character growth and overcoming internalized misogyny is an unfortunate trope

there was absolutely nothing that made me go "oh!!!" as a fan of the animated barbie movies + life in the dreamhouse, or someone who has the most basic understanding of barbie lore (they have one version of midge, skipper, and allan, but no chelsea, teresa, nikki, RAQUELLE, etc.?)

"stereotypical barbie" Her Name Is Barbara Millicent Roberts

[thegayfromrulid]

I hope you'll like this fanfic Reader/Kirito idea. The Reader is walking around in the town of Algade, then he/she noticed a heavily pregnant Kirito struggling carrying his supply of food. The reader offers to help Kirito with the food, and he's thankful for your assistance. The two walk together to Kirito's home, and then after putting away the food, the two become friends, and the Reader gets to feels the baby's movement from Kirito's huge pregnant belly before the Reader says his goodbye.

This was very wholesome! I'm getting a lot of reader-insert practice this go-round, which is pretty fun! I will note for the sake of the tags, I was unsure if this was meant to be cis mpreg or trans mpreg, so I'm choosing to leave that up to your own desired interpretation. Both will be tagged for filtering purposes, and so that readers can have their own choice in how to read it. AO3 Link if desired!

One shot below the cut!

            The air is particularly cool in Algade. All the same, the crowds in Algade are the same as ever, completely unbothered by temperature or weather. And why should it be any different? Algade is the second-largest city in Aincrad, and it’s your home. It’s such a vast city that you can honestly say you haven’t explored all of it, even though you’ve lived here practically your whole life. There are always new people and tourists; there’s no way to know them all. That’s a part of why Algade is such a great place, after all. It never gets boring. There’s always something new to see when you’re out wandering around the city.

            Today’s outing had no real purpose to it aside from stretching your legs. It was easy to get cooped up in the small living spaces dotted throughout the city. Since you don’t mind the crowds, having grown up in the midst of them, taking an aimless walk around for exercise and fresh air has always been more refreshing than suffocating. Other people may have seen it differently, but this was a sense of freedom for you. This is a chance to see the people of Algade at their liveliest. Walking down the main street of Algade, you can see so much going on. There are vendors lined up all down this street, selling anything from food to weapons at their stalls. It’s just a normal day in the big city.

            Something stands out to you, though, as you slip through the crowd. There’s someone you’ve never seen before struggling to make his way through the crowd. The cause for concern is almost immediately apparent; his arms are quite burdened by a food supply that could feed a small family for a week or so. This may have been a more simple task for this person ordinarily, but there’s an added layer of burden atop the likely heavy bags of food—it isn’t difficult to tell that he’s very heavily pregnant. Normally, you wouldn’t dash out of your way to speak to someone in the middle of the main street. However, this feels different. This person needs your help. You can’t just sit there and watch him struggle on.

So, gathering up your courage, you make your way over to him, and just in time, you step in front of him just as he drops one bag. You drop down to the ground and make sure it doesn’t fall on the cobblestone. Nothing spills out, to your relief. When you look up, the stranger is glancing down at you from the side, blinking in apparent surprise. You stand up and give a slight bow to him. He has dark hair that is cropped just to the base of his neck in the back. Bangs sit between his black eyes, which match his overall black outfit. Embarrassment is written all over his face. He reaches a hand out to grab the bag from you.

            “Oh, thank you,” he says, awkwardly laughing. “I thought I had a good hold on that.”

            You tell him it’s no bother. Instead of handing the bag back to him, you offer him some help. He’s taken aback by the offer. You give him your name and tell him that you don’t mind. After all, it seems that you’re both neighbors in Algade, even if you live rather far apart. He seems slightly reluctant, but it doesn’t take long before he glances down at his swollen belly and sighs as he nods at you, handing over a couple more bags with a look of defeat on his face.

            “My name is Kirito. I appreciate the help, (y/n),” he says. “I honestly thought I could handle this by myself, but it is getting tiresome handling chores by myself lately.”

            Casting a worrisome glance at his belly, you wonder why in the world he chose the wording “is getting tiresome” instead of “has been tiresome.” By looking at him, he could likely go into labor at any moment. There was no way he was only just now getting tired from these chores. Still, in an effort to be polite, you give him a smile and try to give an understanding nod. You ask him how far away his home is.

            “It’s quite a hike, admittedly,” he says, giving you a sheepish grin. “It took me a good thirty minutes just to get here.”

            Your eyes practically bug at this revelation. He had managed to waddle all of the way down here, buy all of this food on the main street, and needed to get back home. You ask him if he needs to sit and rest for a while. He hums and looks around. There’s a little bench in the middle of the street a couple of meters ahead. He gives in with a nod.

            “It wouldn’t hurt to let my feet rest for a moment,” he admits.

            With a chuckle, you walk with him over to the bench. He awkwardly eases himself down onto it, and you help him set down the remaining bags he’s carrying. He leans back against the back of the bench and lets out a deep exhale. You don’t want to say it, but sitting seems to make him look even rounder. This Kirito definitely shouldn’t have had to walk this far—not in his current condition. He frowns down at one of the bags set down by his feet. Without saying anything, he starts to lean forward to reach for something. You quickly intervene, asking him what he needs.

            “Oh, I just wanted one of those apples,” he mutters. “I can’t help but feel a bit hungry.”

            He laughs quietly and places one hand on top of his belly. You pick up an apple and offer it to him. Kirito mumbles a thanks and eagerly starts to consume his snack. A part of you wonders if he’ll need more than just an apple. Another part wonders if he can even fit a single apple in his belly this far along. Nevertheless, he appears rather content as he eats. He keeps one hand on top of his belly as he eats, gently rubbing it. There’s a curious flutter in your chest as you wonder if the baby might be moving. It’s always been a fascinating thing to you; with no siblings of your own, you’ve hardly ever felt a baby kicking inside of its parent’s womb. The memory of the sensation was distant. It had been one of your aunts. It might be odd to ask to feel Kirito’s belly, though. You’ve only just met. For now, you keep the thought to yourself.

            When he finishes up his apple, you offer to dispose of the core for him. He’s grateful for the help, and by the time you’re back, you catch him trying to pick himself up. Shaking your head, you offer him a hand. His face turns a bit red, but he takes it. Lifting him up to his feet is trickier than you expected. It only makes sense; he’s quite heavy with all of that weight to the front. You do the job of picking up the bags. You only let Kirito carry two of them, insisting that he needn’t burden himself with all of that extra weight right now. He blushes again. You do have to wonder; is he embarrassed by his state? Changing your tone, you remind him that it’s natural to receive help from friends while expecting a baby. His expression softens.

            “Friends, huh?” he says.

            Now, it’s your turn to feel embarrassed. You’ve only just met, and you’re already calling yourself his friend. No wonder he’s looking at you funny. But he just nods and gives you a gentle smile.

            “I like that,” he says. “Let’s be good friends, (y/n).”

            His words are comforting. You give him another slight bow and return his smile.

            “Okay, I guess I’ll lead the way to my place, then,” he says.

            It’s not long before you realize that the journey back home is worse for him than the journey to the vendors in the first place. The path he takes you on is uphill. Even if the incline isn’t too much, you still feel worried for your new friend. You take pauses when it seems necessary. Kirito keeps shifting his two bags to one hand or the other to put a hand under his belly while he walks. You offer to take at least one of the bags the rest of the way several times. He doesn’t seem to want to let you do it. At one point, he finally gives in and lets you take one more bag. His hand remains glued to the bottom of his belly for the remainder of the walk. He only moves it to pull out his key and open the door to his home. You usher him inside first, then close the door behind you both.

            “The kitchen is this way,” Kirito says, sounding a bit out of breath.

            You tell him to go sit down. He insists that he wants to put his food away. You reassure him that you’ll put everything away so long as he tells you where it goes. The solution winds up being that he pulls a chair into the kitchen to sit on while he walks you through where to put everything. You’re very careful to listen to his instructions. When everything is put away, you can see the relief on Kirito’s face. He gives you another grateful smile from his chair.

            “I really do appreciate this, (y/n),” he says. “If you don’t mind, I can treat you to some tea in a moment. Just let me find the energy.”

            Once again, you’re drawn to his belly as he rubs the top of it. He hardly fits into the chair. Kirito leans his head back, closes his eyes for a moment, and moves his hand to the side of his belly. Your eyes widen just a bit as you see the baby moving. It feels like conclusive enough proof that he’s nearing the end of his pregnancy. Kirito exhales deeply again, and then he pushes himself up out of the chair. You insist that he doesn’t need to treat you to anything, and that he should probably rest. He just chuckles and pats the side of his belly.

            “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’ve got energy left to spare.”

            You can’t be too sure that you believe him. He was so winded before. Either way, he waddles over to a cupboard and starts to pull out things to make tea with. You insist on tossing wood into the stove and lighting it for him so that he doesn’t have to bend over. He still keeps at preparing tea, even though you remind him that you’re either there to help or don’t need to be treated for anything. You wind up giving up on getting him to sit back down until it’s done. It seems to be his way of thanking you for helping him out. You stand by him and keep him company while he brews the tea. One hand supports his back while he stirs. His belly is pressed up against the counter to get him close enough to mind the stove. He doesn’t prep just tea; he gets out some cookies and pastries to serve as well. You take care of setting the table, and before you know it, you’re both sitting there, sipping away at your tea.

            “It’s nice to have someone to spend time with today,” Kirito says. “I hope I didn’t take you away from anything important.”

            Shaking your head, you reassure him that you were already free today. He hums, seeming pleased to hear that, and he leans back in his chair again. In order to reach his plate of pastries, he sits as close as he can to the table. His swollen belly is practically pressed up against the edge. You wonder how comfortable he must be. He packs in more pastries than you think should be possible. Once he’s had his fill of tea, you suggest that he sit somewhere more comfortable. He agrees, and he asks you to follow him into his bedroom. You help him get propped up with some pillows on the bed, and then you sit a ways away from him just to be polite. He situates himself, and then he looks over at you.

            “Oh, don’t worry about sitting so far away,” he says, patting the space next to him. “You can sit closer if you want.”

            Nodding, you move closer. There’s a strange smile on Kirito’s face. He’s leaned back, as comfortably positioned as he can be, and he’s placed one hand on top of his belly and the other down at the base of it. He gently taps his fingers against the top of his belly. He turns and smiles at you.

            “You wanna feel?” he asks.

            He’s read you like a book. You glance down at his belly and remember how it looked as the baby moved earlier. You give Kirito another nod, and then you place your hand against his burgeoning belly. He’s quite warm. For a moment, all you can feel is the steady rise and fall of Kirito’s breathing. But then, you can feel the baby moving against your palm. The movements are strong, and you can see them beneath your hand as well. The joyous feeling of a new life brings warmth to your chest. You look up at Kirito share a smile with him. You finally comment that it looks like it won’t be long before his baby is in his arms. He chuckles and nods.

            “I hope so,” he says, the tiredness in his face looking all the more apparent for a fleeting moment. “I feel like if the baby stays in much longer, I won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning.”

            You both laugh at that statement. You let him know that, should that happen, you’ll come by to help him out. He gives you a nod.

            “I’d like that very much,” he says, “but I really hope it’s soon. I feel so huge already. Could I handle much more?”

            Somehow, you don’t think he would have much of an issue handling a bit longer. If he was only just now getting tired, he could likely handle it. You keep that to yourself, though. You let him know that you’ll come by every so often to check on him, at least until the baby arrives. He rubs the furthest point of his belly and lets out a full laugh this time.

            “Don’t forget to come by after the kid comes,” he tells you. “We’re friends now, after all.”

            Smiling, you nod and touch the side of his belly once more before you head home. The baby graces you with a little more movement. You tell both of them good-bye, and you promise that you’ll be by again soon. So that he continues to rest, you make sure to lock up his place behind him. Only those with a key can get in now. You smile up at his door for a moment before turning around and heading back home. You’ll be back by soon. And with any hope, you’ll remain friends for a good, long while.  

[possibilistfanfiction]

Okay Elsa is annoying but … any Elsa thoughts on the future?

i also agree that elsa is annoying but u know shes a good mom honestly. also we all know casey is non binary in our hearts so. here's something i guess :) also on ao3

////

the morning gates stay open (i’d be there)

/

i’m born to be somebody, then somebody comes from me i’ll tell you about the rabbit moon and when to keep walking

— clairo, ‘reaper’

//

you see izzie — and no one else — waiting for you when you head out of the terminal at lax.

‘hey elsa,’ she says, giving you a hug when you open your arms, even though you’re a little confused. ‘casey’s in the bathroom,’ she rushes to explain, rolling her eyes fondly. ‘they had like six la croixs today, even though i said it was a bad idea, and —‘

you don’t really process much else because then casey is barreling into you, even though ever facetime call has ended abruptly with an adamant refusal to return any sentiment about missing each other. ‘hey mom,’ casey says into your shoulder, and when you back up you have to smile at the sun-kissed freckles and cutoff shorts fraying at the hem, even though it’s february and snowing in connecticut. casey looks happy, and links hands with izzie, who tries to take your suitcase for you before you glare at casey, who sighs and takes it instead.

/

you’ve visited before; you helped both of them move into their dorms, and then you’d flown out with doug for a weekend in october. casey and izzie came home for thanksgiving and winter break, but you have some miles saved up now and casey hadn’t sounded too annoyed at the idea of you visiting for a few days to get out of the cold. they drop your things off at the hotel you booked near campus, and then izzie levels casey with a look and then says, ‘i have to meet with a group for a midterm presentation, but i’ll see you for dinner.’

you give her a hug and she kisses casey easily, quickly, and says, ‘i love you,’ far too seriously for an afternoon apart. you don’t know what’s going on but you think back to what izzie had said earlier — not about casey drinking too many la croixs; listening to rules has never been a strong suit, after all — but, you think, if you were listening, maybe izzie didn’t say her, which might mean—

‘let’s go to the palisades,’ casey says, then starts to ramble nervously about how they’re closer to the west side than laguna or manhattan but not as crowded as the pier, and who wants to be around that many tourists anyway, and there’s a little cafe if you wanted some snacks. you listen patiently and agree to any plans, because it’s a beautiful day and you don’t, actually, want to drive that much in la traffic or be by so many tourists. eventually casey runs out of things to say and turns on the radio to some music you don’t know but honestly don’t think is half bad. the windows are down and the sun is bright and you’ve been to pflag meetings in new haven for over a year now; you think you’ll knock it out of the park if casey tells you anything.

you do stop by the cafe, which is cute, and pick up a few snacks. casey had packed a big beach blanket, one you’d given as a joint gift to izzie and casey for christmas, which makes you smile. casey’s hands are shaking, a little, though, and so you don’t mention that it was, in fact, a great present that apparently they use all the time, according to izzie, who always politely and enthusiastically returns your texts and calls with all sorts of updates.

you sit down in the warm sand near the water and you know casey; sometimes, you just have to wait it out.

‘so.’

‘hmmm.’

casey fiddles with the edge of the blanket and then with some of the fruit you got at the cafe, before staring straight ahead at the waves. ‘i’m, uh. whew. well.’

you don’t laugh, will your body not to. instead, you squeeze casey’s hand, just once.

‘i’m just your kid, okay?’

you sit with that for a moment, try to process what you think casey is saying, but you don’t want to get anything wrong or jump to conclusions. ‘today, at the airport, izzie said they, when referring to you.’

casey sits for a second, shoulders tense all the way up toward the sky, and then says, ‘oh.’

‘i don’t think she was even thinking about it.’ casey nods. ‘but, is that what you’re talking about?’

casey sighs. ‘yeah. i guess. is that — is that okay?’

‘of course it’s okay,’ you say, because it definitely is okay, and also it’s not the most shocking news you’ve heard. casey hasn’t wanted anything to do with femininity, really, for as long as you can remember; you’ve grown used to, and proud, so often, of having a queer child — and another bonus queer child, too, which is what you consider izzie now, no matter what.

casey sniffles and then leans into your shoulder. ‘i know you’re, like, bursting with questions.’

you laugh, just a little, and feel a small smile against your skin. ‘not if you don’t want to answer them.’

‘depends on the questions.’

‘do you have any term you like, or any concept or something? i’ve been doing a lot of reading, and i’ve met a lot of other parents in pflag who have children who are also gender non-conforming, and—‘

‘whoa, slow your roll,’ casey says, but seems to deflate a little in relief. ‘non binary is fine, i guess. i’m just — not a girl. i’m just casey.’

that makes you smile. ‘your name is still casey, then?’

it produces an eye roll but then a begrudging, ‘it’s a good name. i like my name,’ so you’ll take it as a win.

‘i have great taste.’

‘ugh.’

‘you use they/them pronouns?’

‘yeah,’ casey says. ‘but, like, it’s okay if you don’t always get them right or whatever.’

‘no, it’s not,’ you say gently. ‘i’ll try really hard. i’ll get them right. it’s important.’

that produces a fresh round of tears that they try to dismiss by saying the sun is really bright and they have a hangover, which you know is false because casey had been asleep by 9 last night after an all-nighter and cross country the day before. but you let them have it, eat a few grapes and then toss one their way.

it elicits a reluctant laugh but it works all the same. ‘izzie corrects people all the time so she’ll love you more than she already does.’

‘i’m so glad you brought my favorite child into my life.’

‘wow, thanks elsa,’ casey deadpans, but then digs their hand into the sand and smiles. ‘izzie’s been so awesome, with all of this. i really love her.’

‘i know you do,’ you say with a smile, pat their hand.

‘and i’ll tell sam and dad eventually, but i want to tell them in person because sam won’t care, i’m sure, but dad is… you know.’

‘he loves you,’ you assure them. ‘i won’t say anything, of course.’

they look at you suspiciously.

you hold your hands up. ‘i swear i won’t. i know i love to meddle but i would never out you.’

casey sighs and nods. ‘i believe you,’ they say. ‘but, for the record, meddling is your most toxic trait.’

‘yeah, yeah.’

‘i don’t really want to talk about this anymore,’ they say quietly after a few moments. ‘it stresses me out, sometimes.’

‘okay. any time you want or need, though.’

they nod. ‘love you, mom.’

‘love you, casey.’

they pop up off the blanket, then, which whips sand into your face and all the food, and then take off toward the waves, laughing. you let them have a little space for a moment, watching your brave child chase off into the surf, fearless as always.

/

you take izzie to lunch the next day; casey has class during that time and you like to spend time with izzie anyway. she sits straight and proper but you see how she’s relaxed a little too, here, maybe getting to have a childhood for the first time ever. her hair is long and perpetually wavy from her runs by the ocean, and her eyes are bright.

‘thank you,’ she says, ‘for being so good with casey yesterday. they told me that you were awesome.’

‘casey, my child, said those words about me?’

izzie laughs, delicately takes a bite of her quinoa bowl, then shrugs. ‘not those words exactly. but they meant it. and they were so happy this morning, like a weight was lifted or something. i told them they didn’t need to be that anxious to tell you or anything but it’s been a process, you know. i think it’s been hard for a while.’

‘they like to let things stew, don’t they?’

izzie huffs. ‘it’s the worst.’

‘welcome to my world.’

‘casey is… quite the person, that’s for sure.’

‘thank you, too, izzie. for loving them so completely.’

izzie blushes, looks down at her hands. ‘impossible not to, i think.’

you think back to all the times casey has driven you up the wall over the years, the tantrums and fights, and then reach out to squeeze izzie’s hand. ‘impossible not to,’ you agree.

/

casey and izzie come home for spring break, and casey is pacing around and so you order food, send izzie to go get it, who thanks you quietly with a little squeeze to your shoulder.

you sit down on the couch and make sure that sam and doug are actually paying attention and then casey sighs.

‘is this an intervention?’ sam asks when casey doesn’t say anything. ‘i don’t know who it would be for.’

casey sighs again. ‘it’s not an intervention.’

‘okay,’ sam says, ‘good.’

casey tries to still their hands on their thighs and then says, ‘i’m not a girl. or a boy. or anything else, really, i guess. uh, if that makes sense.’

doug looks genuinely baffled but sam just nods.

‘there are many animals that don’t fit into a gender or sex binary. most commonly, it’s referred to as sequential hermaphroditism.’

casey nods contemplatively and your heart warms a little.

‘one of my friends is trans,’ he says, then takes out his notebook. ‘what are your name and pronouns?’

you can tell casey is trying not to cry, but they just clear their throat. ‘uh, casey, and they/them pronouns.’

sam writes something in his notebook and then nods. ‘got it. sibling? is that okay?’

casey is really trying not to cry now. ‘that’s great, sam.’

‘cool,’ he says. ‘is that all?’

‘oh, uh, yeah,’ casey says, ‘thanks, sam.’

‘sure, i’m just glad this wasn’t an intervention,’ he says, then stands and leaves the room without another word.

casey is smiling but then they turn to really look at doug, who has a furrowed brow.

‘i’m sorry, case,’ he says, which might not be the best start, but you’re fully prepared to jump in anytime they need. ‘i don’t — i don’t understand fully.’

he doesn’t sound angry, and he gets up to sit by them on the couch, squeezes their shoulder once.

‘i love you, though, and i guess, uh. you’re my kid. i just want you to be safe and happy. i’ll try to learn, okay?’

casey swallows once, and then again, and then hugs doug tight. ‘please never quote this, and only remember it for your sake and not mine, but mom knows a lot. she can definitely help explain stuff.’

you beam and doug nods. casey rolls their eyes.

’not now, though,’ they say. ‘izzie’s back with the food.’ they flash their phone. ‘she’s just been waiting outside until we were done talking. elsa, i see what you did there.’

‘you’re welcome.’

‘that pizza better not have pineapple or else i’m taking back everything i just said.’

‘extra pineapple, believe it or not.’

casey stomps off, and then makes a little noise of satisfaction from the kitchen when they discover that, in fact, you had actually ordered pepperoni. you hear izzie laugh.

‘so… we don’t have a daughter anymore?’ doug asks, quietly. ‘that’s not what i should call …’

‘them,’ you supply. ‘casey is our child,’ you say firmly, ‘they’re just casey.’

he takes a deep breath and then nods. ‘okay.’

‘we can practice. i’ve been practicing.’

doug looks relieved. ‘okay, good.’ he waits a beat and then laughs, just once. ‘you know, of all the things casey has ever come to us with, even though i don’t understand the details, really, this might be the one that makes the most sense.’

you smile, lace your fingers together. ‘i thought the same thing.’

/

when casey and izzie come home for a few weeks in the summer before preseason training begins, casey has a few more tattoos and a buzzcut and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. izzie is in a crop top and long, flowing skirt and they’re both as enamored with each other as always, sweet and considerate and happy. you make peace with it all, because casey is kinder by the day, it seems, even to you.

zahid comes over one night and smiles and says, ‘sick shoes,’ to casey and leaves it at that, even though earlier you had told them that you thought they looked like geriatric shoes — not even in jest, you were worried about arch support or something — and izzie had laughed and casey had spluttered, ‘they’re jordans.’

it’s not hard to realize, as the weeks pass, that casey is better than they’d ever been; you’d read that a lot of trans and non binary teams have a really hard time during puberty, especially, and casey had been going through so much on top of trying to process this part of their identity. you fight the urge to wish you had known more then, even though they’re healthy and thriving now, it seems.

they get everyone to help organize a slip n slide in the backyard made with tarps and soap and water, and it’s genuinely hilarious when they set up an obstacle course. for two division i athletes, casey and izzie do terribly, falling all over each other and getting bubbles everywhere. you’re pretty sure casey is wearing a binder instead of a swimsuit or sports bra, and when they finally finish their ridiculous game, they lie back on the grass with izzie.

they’re both breathing hard and laughing periodically, not really talking. you bring them popsicles and it’s been a while since you’ve seen casey look this young.

/

things settle.

you miss your kids, of course, but they seem very genuinely happy. but one night in the fall, you’re just sitting down with a glass of nice merlot, ready to watch the newest episode of the bachelor even though casey relentlessly tells you it’s ‘misogynist garbage’ — which you know, obviously, but it’s mindless — when your phone rings.

it’s casey, and casey never really calls you for a good reason, and your heart jumps in your chest. you put down your wine and pause the tv.

‘case?’

you hear them sniffle on the other end of the line.

‘what’s wrong?’

your mind runs through a million different scenarios, each worse than the last.

‘izzie’s hurt,’ they say, finally, and casey has been known to be a little dramatic so you don’t know how hurt, or what you need to do.

‘what happened, honey? what do you need from me?’

’the trainers are taking her to the hospital for an mri right now but they think she tore her achilles in practice today. i don’t — she was running next to me, just intervals, and then i heard a pop and then she was screaming and — can you come? i’m sorry. they think she might need surgery, i guess, and, i just. please? can you come?’

you put down your wine and walk to your laptop. ‘i’ll look up flights right now, case. i’ll be there as soon as i can, okay?’

they let out what you can tell is a very relieved breath. ‘okay.’

‘i found one that can get me there tomorrow morning. i’ll find a hotel and keep you updated.’

‘mom,’ they say, ‘thank you.’

‘i love you, and i love izzie.’ it’s firm, but you mean it like that: there is no question; you will be there. ‘i’ll see you both soon.’

/

izzie does need surgery, you find out by the next morning when you uber from the airport to the hospital. casey is hunched over in a hoodie, trying to stay awake with a cup of coffee, but izzie smiles sleepily and happily when you come into the room quietly.

‘i’m high,’ she says, giggling a little.

casey rolls their eyes, clearly exhausted, but gets up to hug you tight. izzie squeezes your hand back when you kiss her cheek.

‘you didn’t need to come,’ she says suddenly, a little furrow to her brow.

‘of course i did.’

her lower lip starts to wobble and casey rolls their eyes but huffs a little laugh anyway. it’s an uncharacteristically chilly, rainy day outside and it’s surprisingly easy to convince casey to go back to the dorm to shower and nap for a few hours before they come back in the afternoon. izzie mostly sleeps, but you take careful notes when the surgeon comes to speak to you, because izzie really is out of it and, although they promise to come back and explain things later, you don’t want them to be missing any information. plus, they always process information better when it’s written down anyway.

izzie eventually gets discharged and has to come back a few days later for surgery. you have savings, so you’re lucky enough that you can stay for a bit. izzie is groggy but gets to have an outpatient procedure, and you help casey get her situated back in her dorm afterward. she has a big padded boot on her foot and ankle but you picked up pain medication for her and so she mostly sleeps. casey settles in next to izzie on the small bed and kisses her forehead, then looks at you, eyes big. their hair has grown out so that it falls floppily over their brows; it makes them look young and you have to fight to not want to kiss their forehead or hold their hand.

‘just — thank you, mom.’

/

you leave after a few days because izzie is doing better, taking just tylenol and very coherently getting around fine on crutches and so therefore casey has relaxed as well, their easy smiles back and their posture relaxed, slouched like normal.

they both come to see you off at the airport, casey doting carefully and izzie swatting away any attempts. you kiss izzie’s forehead and then do the same to casey, even though they fake gag.

within a few weeks, izzie is walking again, tenderly at first but then without any pause. casey actually gives you studious updates about her recovery; from what you can tell, they go to every physical therapy session they can possibly make it to. you know izzie has gone to therapy for years, now, and all of the drama from when she and casey first started dating seems to have faded into the background. but injuries are difficult, you think — scary and painful, especially because of what running has been to izzie. but eventually she sends you a selfie of the two of them by the beach, clearly having just run, with fly away hair and casey’s cheeks flushed red, huge smiles squinting into the sun.

/

a year passes, full of holidays and casey complaining about finals and izzie sending you pictures of pies she tries to bake in the tiny dorm kitchen. they run; sometimes when you’re pretty sure they’re a little high, casey will facetime you just to say hello. you and doug help them move into a small duplex together at the beginning of junior year, a bright sunny kitchen and the breeze from the ocean floating through the windows.

casey takes you to get coffee when they visit for thanksgiving — so you know something’s up, because they would never voluntarily spend time alone with you unless they really needed to talk — and when you sit down they smile at you, gently and openly, a rare occasion, and say, ‘i’m gonna have top surgery in the spring.’

you’re not surprised, and you’ve done casey’s laundry enough times when they’ve visited that you know they’ve been wearing a binder most days; you know they love being an athlete, and izzie has sent you enough articles about non-binary athletes in women’s leagues that you know casey has a place in sport.

that this surgery is happening, though, is a little different. you feel scared, because casey is your child, but mostly you feel excited for them. relieved for them.

‘that’s so wonderful, casey,’ you say, and they blink just once and then a grin lights up their face.

they tell you about their surgeon, and the type of surgery they’re going to have, how izzie has gone with them but how, they admit, they would love if you facetimed in for their next pre-op appointment in a few months.

‘can you help me explain it to dad? sam and i already talked, to be honest, because he asked me. which is, like, inappropriate from anyone else, but he’s sam, so it was mostly just so he could research statistics and stuff.’

you laugh, squeeze their hand. ‘i’ll help, absolutely.’

/

you go out to la a few months after casey’s surgery with doug and sam; everything had gone well and casey had cried in joy and relief when they’d seen their chest afterward for the first time, which had set izzie off, which had set you off too. you’re pretty sure doug had even sniffled.

when you’d left, though, they still had bandages and bruising but now it’s almost the beginning of their senior year and when you go to the beach they take their shirt off and then shove sam into the sand with a laugh. sam grumbles but gets up to dust himself off, izzie rolling her eyes as she helps you set out the blanket.

casey races off into the surf, turning back and yelling at all of you to come join them. you always have; you do.

[plus-size-reader]

Out of His Mind

Henry Bowers x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1669 words

Warnings: language?

Summary: Henry has a crush. 

——————————————————————————————————

It should have come as no surprise to anyone that you were the way you were.

After all, living with Patrick your whole life meant that you figured it out or he would have probably smothered you with a pillow by now. It was no secret that Patrick was standoffish and violent, everyone in all of Derry knew that.

What they didn’t know was that he, in no way, rivalled your hatred of the entirety of the human race.

The two of you were clearly related through that alone, though that was about as far as the similarity went.

Where Patrick was a textbook psychopath, deriving joy from any form of suffering, you didn’t seem to find it in anything. You were just angry all the time.

As best he could tell, you always had a disgusted grimace on your beautiful face, keeping to yourself whenever possible, unless you had some venom to spit in Henry’s direction.

...And for whatever reason, you had him all twisted up inside.

It didn’t make any sense, seeing as Henry had never felt that way about anyone but whenever he was around you, he felt ill, in the best way.

It was like a spell had been cast on him, and it made him even more dumb than before. The worst part of all though, was that you somehow remained absolutely blind to it.

That, or you didn’t care.

For the longest time, he was sure that you hated him and maybe you still did. In any case, nothing could keep his stomach from doing cartwheels whenever you were together.

Together being a term used lightly.

Really, you only ever spent time with the ‘Bowers gang’ when you absolutely had to but that was more than enough for Henry to be sure.

There was just something about you.

...And he was determined to figure out what it was.

Today, Patrick offered to have the guys come over after school, suggesting they fuck around at the quarry for a while before hitting the town. Your parents weren’t going to be home, after all, so they agreed.

Which meant that as soon as Henry and the others entered your house, you knew about it. No one else had a key to the side door of the garage.

“What are you losers doing here?” you groaned, rolling your eyes from where you were sitting on the couch, watching bored as Belch chucked something at Vic, narrowly missing his head.

It brought a small smile to your face, which you were quick to force back down. Perhaps if it had actually met its target, you would have laughed.

Luckily, Belch’s aim was about as good as his grade in chemistry. “We thought we’d come spend time with you. s’that okay?” Henry started, noticing the way your eyes lingered on his for only a moment before you looked away.

You didn’t even bother to answer him, though you didn’t have much of a chance anyway before Patrick swung around the corner and lobed a coke can at your head.

“We’re going to the quarry, you wanna come or is that stick lodged too far up your ass?” he cackled, not even seeming to care one bit that the can could have burst all over the place.

Though, to be fair, you cared about as much when you tossed it right back at him, hitting the wall just behind him.

“You’re a fucker, Pat!” you growled, that mischievous glint in your eyes making it hard to tell if you were really upset with him or not.

It wasn’t until you stood from where you’d been sitting that it registered to Henry that you could potentially be coming with them. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but for some reason, it made his palms sweat.

You hadn’t come with them to the quarry for quite some time, and the five of you weren’t kids anymore.

“Let’s go. I’ll leave all your asses here” you barked, having apparently decided you’d be going before heading out the door, not bothering to wait for any of them.

Without missing a beat, all four boys followed, leaving Henry to bring up the back, his hands feverishly wiping at his jeans.

He tried to convince himself that this wasn’t going to be that big of a deal, and that there was no reason he should be nervous, but that wasn’t doing him much good.

Really, the more he tried to stop thinking about you, the more his mind snapped right back to you, sitting in the backseat.

Henry was trying his best to be casual in his admiration, watching in the right side mirror as you fiddled mindlessly with the fraying knees of Vic’s jean but if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get caught.

Honestly, Belch had already taken note of the way Henry studied you but chose to keep it to himself.

Pointing out something like that would not only subject him to Henry’s anger, but also yours and Patricks and that wasn’t something he was willing to deal with right now.

So, he turned up the music on the radio and kept driving down the road until he pulled up to the private confines of the woods around the quarry.

“Did you bring a bathing suit Squirt, or what?” Patrick asked, much too late to have actually been of help to anyone, going so far as to use that terrible nickname.

If looks could kill, he would have been dead already.

“No, I’m not stripping down in front of your pervy friends dipshit” you huffed, shooting Belch a wink from where he was looking at you from the rearview.

It was all in good fun of course, but mostly, it was just payback for Patrick being Patrick.

“Yeah right, like any of these guys would wanna touch you with a ten foot pole” your brother jabbed, your full on sibling bickering filling the backseat in a matter of minutes.

Really, it was just a number of thinly veiled threats and insulting one another's mother even though she was the same woman. Neither of you cared for technicalities.

Patrick was a bitch and you only wanted to make sure he knew that about himself.

~

That was all that happened from the time Belch parked the trans am to the time when Patrick and the others were all diving off that cliff into the water below.

You chose to remain perched on a rock, letting what little sun you could tolerate to bathe your skin. It wasn’t until you heard a twig snap behind you that you perked up, taking notice to the fact that someone was clearly out here. As best you knew, the guys were still in the lake.

Still, you wouldn’t have put it past your shithead brother to try and toss you over the side while you were too relaxed to notice.

Though, when you actually turned around, it wasn’t Patrick standing where the sound had come from. It was Henry.

“What are you doing? Sneaking around like a creeper” you asked, rolling your eyes before leaning back down against the rocks. You would never admit it, but you were most comfortable around Henry.

He was a no shit kind of guy, which you could respect, but he wasn’t downright vile like your hellspawn sibling was. He was a good middle ground and you could respect that.

Not that you wanted him watching you from the woods in any case.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Henry started, watching you crack one eye open slightly to look at him, silently prompting him to continue.

You had never had patience for idle small talk. If he had something to say, he could do so without wasting precious seconds of your life.

“Without the other guys” he clarified, briefly waiting for you to point out that it was a given before punching him so hard in the bicep with those rings you wore that he’d have to leave.

...But that never came.

You just sat there, bathing in the sun like a cold blooded predator, waiting for him to get on with it.

Henry had to swallow thickly before speaking, taking in how peaceful and gentle you looked when you were relaxed. He assumed it was a Hockstetter thing, because Pat damn near slept like a baby.

The whole lot of you were sneaky bastards though, so he didn’t trust it for a second.

“You wanna see a movie sometime? Or get a burger? Just us” he asked, earning a snort from you immediately though you stopped laughing as soon as you saw him.

The sight you opened your eyes to was almost alarming.

Henry, shit-talking, knife slinging Henry Bowers, looked like a scared little puppy. You had never seen him anxious or worried before but even you didn’t have it in your heart to tease him.

He was being serious.

“Like a date?” you clarified, genuinely confused for a second. Why would Henry want to go out with you? By all accounts, you were personality deficient, and that was a badge of honor you wore proudly.

...But no one in their right mind would sign up for that willingly.

Maybe that was the whole point though, maybe that was what it was about Henry that you found so strangely endearing. He was out of his damn mind.

When he nodded, you made up your mind.

He was absolutely deranged, fully crazy, but you were just about the same. “Sure, I’ll let you buy me a milkshake some time” you shrugged, closing your eyes again as your way of shooing him away.

You both knew that if he didn’t get back to his friends, they’d come looking for him and whatever he had going on, that wasn’t a good look.

Not that he cared right now.

Henry got the date, and you didn’t even spit on him when he asked. By all accounts, that was a success in his mind.

[gubler-me-up]

Unsung Heroes

Request: Hi! I just found your account and I am in LOVE. I know this is a sort of very specific ask, but could you write Spencer Reid dating a masculine/trans masculine person? I think it would be really cool so yeah lol thank u in advance 🥺🥺💖💖 (ur literally so damn talented)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, anon! Sorry it took a long time to get to but I’m glad I’m getting it out before the end of the year. This is my first masc trans reader fic out of two in my requests, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if there is anything I can improve on or anything you would like to see in my next masc trans spencer reid fic that I didn’t portray well here. I did a bit of research to make sure my portrayal was accurate but I am always open to improving my work especially so readers feel comfortable and represented while reading. Hope you enjoy and happy reading! 💕

Couple: Spencer Reid/Masc trans!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None just pure ~fluff~

Word count: 2.5k

————-

You threw on your favourite flannel to complete your outfit. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time to fix your hair properly before Spencer arrived. He might not be a fan of styling his hair but making sure your hair was to your liking was your thing. Especially after getting a fresh cut it was important to you that you made the best of it before your hair started to grow back.

You then quickly checked your beard to see if there were any noticeable razor bumps. You didn’t see any visible ones but the ones below the surface were always the dangerous ones. You ran your hand over your beard to feel for any up and coming bumps. You stopped your finger over a spot that felt tender to the touch.

“Ah, you already feel as if you’re going to be a pain,” you mumbled to yourself.

You heard soft knocks on your door before you could continue your battle with your soon to be razor bump. You grabbed your wallet and keys off of your dresser before leaving your bedroom to answer the door. You opened the door to see Spencer standing in front of you with his hands gripped on his satchel strap and an excited smile plastered on his face.

He gently lifted his satchel to bring your attention to it. You chuckled as you saw how full it looked. You looked at him with a quizzical expression as he started to laugh himself.

“I thought we could read some light literature as we indulge in these breakfast burritos you’re so excited about,” he said.

“I haven’t read a good book in a while let alone encyclopedias,” you chuckled.

“They’re not all encyclopedia’s. Just one,” he said.

You laughed as you closed the door behind you. You didn’t believe him one bit about only having one encyclopedia in his satchel but you weren’t going to overly tease him about it. You were more interested in him trying a breakfast burrito for the first time.

You originally didn’t get the hype over breakfast burritos for a while until you were running late to work one morning and saw a food truck nearby. They convinced you to try their breakfast burrito and you’ve been loyal to them ever since. You knew Spencer was more of a coffee and go person but you thought he might enjoy trying something new.

“We’ll find out the truth after we get something to eat,” you said.

Spencer smiled and nodded as he loosened his grip on his satchel strap. He let his hand loosely fall to his sides. You smirked as you reached your hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it. To say he was forever touched starved was an understatement.

You were glad you could give him something he didn’t already have plenty of in his life. Touching books and case files all day definitely couldn’t give him the physical touch he deeply desired. You were happy every day for the past six months you could be the one to embrace him in any amount of touch. Bonus points for him always smelling good as well.

Spencer pressed the button for the elevator. “Are these breakfast burritos really as good as you say they are?”

“You’re doubting me now?” You asked.

“No, I would never do that. I’m just saying we sometimes have different tastes in things,” he said.

“Oh? What kind of things?” You asked.

“Well, you prefer listening to more contemporary artists while I’m more into classical,” he said.

“Musical taste is whatever though. I can get down to Mozart any day,” you chuckled.

He laughed. “Well, you take your coffee with oat milk and three brown sugars. I take mine black with a little sugar.”

“If you think half the sugar canister is a little sugar then I don’t wanna know what you consider a lot of sugar.”

You both laughed as the elevator doors opened. You both stepped into it and you pressed the lobby floor. You looked at him with a smirk before grabbing his chin. He smiled at your touch as he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“What?” He asked.

“I think there’s one thing we can both agree we have good taste in,” you said.

You leaned in and kissed Spencer on the lips which you knew he longed for. He didn’t hesitate to embrace you fully into his mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever kissed a guy with softer lips than him. He latched his hands onto your face and started to stroke his thumb against your beard. It ran over the growing razor bump but you didn’t mind if he touched it.

You parted your lips from him before you changed your mind and opted to spend the day with him in your apartment. He chuckled and didn’t move his hands away from your face. It didn’t seem as if the good doctor was quite finished with you.

“You want another taste?” You joked.

He nodded. You obliged and leaned in to kiss him again. You could have him for breakfast all day every day. Since breakfast was taken up by a breakfast burrito with your names on it, you guessed you could have him for lunch instead.

————

You and Spencer had found a rock to sit on near the lake. The park was quite full for a Sunday morning but with such nice weather you couldn’t blame people for wanting to be out and about so early. You watched Spencer carefully as he took his time eating his breakfast burrito. You couldn’t quite tell if he liked it or not based on his blank stare into the water as he ate.

“How do you like it?” You asked.

He quickly snapped out of his long gaze into the water. He looked over at you and smiled but it couldn’t fool you. You knew something was running around that big brain of his and you wanted to know what.

“I like it. It’s definitely an interesting concept,” he said as he took another small bite.

“Spence, what’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head in response to you as he finished chewing. You gave him a second to finish whatever was left in his mouth before he started talking. He let out a drawn-out sigh before licking his lips.

“I was going over case files this week and went over this one from a few years ago. This little boy’s family was murdered  and he was the only survivor. Found out he left his aunt and uncle’s house to go into foster care. Apparently, he’s been having a hard time no matter where he goes,” he said.

“Well, from being a human I can tell you family sucks but from working in social work I can tell you the foster care system sucks. It’s hard to look at some of these cases and talk to these children having a hard time for sure,” you said.

“I just don’t feel as if I’m making a difference,” he confessed.

You shook your head in protest. If anyone was making a difference it was Dr. Spencer Reid. You knew how doubtful he could be of his capabilities sometimes but you knew he just needed a little reminder here and there.

“Are you kidding? You’re out here risking your life to catch serial killers every day and you don’t think you’re making a difference?” You asked.

“But it just stops there. The lives ruined never get fixed. The survivors never know a sense of peace. I just help solve cases and then move onto the next thing,” he said.

“You don’t have to deal with the social work or therapy side of these cases because there are people who take that area over for you. You do enough, Spence,” you said.

“And you do the most, Y/N. You’re so good at social work and when you’re not doing that you’re dedicating your time volunteering for homeless youths,” he said.

“It’s easy to volunteer though. Anyone can do it,” you said.

“And here I am not doing that.”

Spencer stared back into the depths of the water as he took another bite from his breakfast burrito. A bigger bite this time. You were honestly impressed. He probably took a bigger bite so he had more time to chew and less time to talk about his worries. A true genius.

You looked into the water yourself. The waves coming in reminded you of what one of your coworkers said to you once. You laughed to yourself which brought Spencer’s attention back to you.

“You know when I first told one of my coworkers I was transgender they asked if my transitioning period felt as if that one scene in Mulan where she looked at her reflection and knew she was supposed to reflect who she was inside and then decided to pretend to be a man to go into war on behalf of her father. I said not exactly and before I could explain to them why their analogy wasn’t really accurate, they hugged me and said they were proud I was able to reflect who I was inside on the outside,” you said.

“The lake reminded you of your coworker’s ignorance?” He questioned.

You chuckled. “No, it reminded me of that scene in Mulan and then that reminded me of my coworker’s ignorance. That being said though they did tell me how a lot of people they know are unsung heroes. I asked what they meant by that and they said unsung heroes are people who are trying their best but aren’t acknowledged or are overlooked by others or themselves.”

“Are you trying to say I’m a little harsh on myself?”

“Just a little.”

He looked back out into the lake again. You could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought about what you said. You continued to enjoy your breakfast sandwich as you let him ponder on your words. Usually it was the other way around and the words you were pondering were a bit more complex but you were nonetheless glad you could get him thinking.

By the time he looked at you, your burrito was nearly done. His whole time thinking he hadn’t taken another bite of his burrito. You didn’t know if you were happy he was about to talk to you about his insights or upset because he made a good breakfast burrito get cold.

“You don’t think I’m an unsung hero do you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Of course not. I think you’re just a hero who wants to save the whole world at once but can barely finish a breakfast burrito.”

He chuckled. “This thing’s huge.”

“And so is the world but just like your bites, you have to solve issues within it in small nibbles,” you joked.

He laughed as he took another bite out of it. He tried to chew it with a smile on his face but you knew he hated the fact it was cold. You laughed at him as he swallowed the remains of his bite. He carefully wrapped his half-eaten burrito before looking at you with a wide smile. You were glad to see him smiling again and the doubt lifted from his face.

“I think you’re right,” he said.

“You think I’m right? Say that I’m right again and you might just have to hand over your Ph.D. to me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Which one?”

You both laughed. When Spencer made a joke, it was definitely one for the books. However, when he made a good joke it was one for the history books. You believed the longer you two are together the better his humour could become.

“All jokes aside, I want to spend my free time volunteering with homeless youths with you,” he said.

You looked at him surprised but a smile soon appeared on your face. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his filled with hope. You nodded your head.

“I would love for you to volunteer with me. I think the kids would love learning a thing or two from you,” you said.

“Teach?” You said.

“Yeah. Every Friday we teach youths a different arrangement of skills that will help them in life. It’s a great sight seeing them have hope in their eyes again. I first started with counselling transgender youths in the program and have branched out to other members of the LGBTQ2S+. I now help homeless youths who have been victims of physical abuse. It’s definitely hard stuff to hear but seeing their faces when they know they’re being helped through their problems is the biggest reward I could ever ask for.”

Throughout your whole speech you could see tears at the brim of Spencer’s eyes. He tried to wipe his eyes before any tears could fall out but you already knew you had touched his soft spot. He smiled brightly at you before letting out a soft chuckle.

“I hope they like physics,” he said.

You laughed. “Taught the Dr. Spencer Reid way, I think they will have a new appreciation of the science.”

You both broke out into laughter again. You broke the laughter by kissing him on the lips. You could never get over how happy he looked every time you kissed him.

“I love you, Spencer,” you said.

He grinned. “I love you too, Y/N.”

“How about we get you some real breakfast and head back to my place for lunch?” You said.

You stood up on the rock and placed your hand out for Spencer to use to get up. He gladly grabbed onto it as you hoisted him up. For someone with a Ph.D. in physics you would think that he would have a better sense of how to balance. It was just another cute quirk of his you loved.

“Some real breakfast?” He questioned.

“Yeah, your coffee with a “little” sugar,” you said.

“Ah, my real breakfast. So what’s going to be for lunch?” He asked.

You grabbed his hand to hold as you two walked through the park. You smirked at him as you looked him up and down. He blushed as he let you examine him from head to toe.

“Your encyclopedia’s of course,” you said.

“Wait, what? Why my encyclopedia’s?” He asked.

“Ah-ha, so there are more than one in your bag,” you said.

He sighed. “Was this your way of making me confess that you’re right again?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s no lunch?”

“You’re lunch.”

“Ah, I see you’re on a diet then.”

“You know what? I love that my humour’s rubbing off on you so well.”

“I think it’s a sign we belong in each other’s life for a long time to come.”

You laughed. “I’m not the romantic type but I have to agree.

“So how come I’ve told all my friends from work you’re the most romantic person I know?”

“Oh? I guess I’ll show you how romantic I can be during lunch.”

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @bluerose512​ @laneybobeczko-g​ @averyhotchner​ @littlewierdalien @cynbx @mggsprettygirl​

[starrlikesbooks]

Welcome to May!

May's my favorite month because it's my birth month 🎉 but now I can also celebrate having so many good books come out!

As always, you can check under the cut for more on each~

Blade of Secrets by Tricia Levenseller is a quest-y fantasy with an amazing concept behind it: a teen blacksmith who's sought out for her power to make magical weapons accidentally creates an indestructible sword that steals secrets from any it cuts, and it just told her its soon to be owner has plans for world domination. I already had the fortune to read this one, and if you like misfits traveling together and the idea of a hunky yet obnoxious mercenary somehow also fitting the farm boy romance trope, you'll have a lot of fun with this book.

Counting Down With You by Tashie Bhuiyan is a cute fake dating/secret dating story of a Bangladeshi girl with anxiety trying to live up to her parent's standards while also falling for the notorious bad boy she's meant to be tutoring. I've never read a fake dating story with so little miscommunication and it's honestly such a wholesome book!

Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee I got to read months ago and I have been waiting for it to come out so I can push it! On the surface it's a fake dating story (with one of my favorite versions of that trope), but more uniquely it's the story of a tri-racial trans guy spending his first summer out, and really poorly attempting a love story to prove his own worth. It also has one of my favorite characters I've read this year in it (Devin!) who also happens to be openly asexual and throughout the book explores eir identity and while trying out pronouns.

The Ones We're Meant to Find by Joan He is a speculative sci-fi fiction story starring a girl stranded on a trash island whose only motivation is getting back to her sister, and a girl whose sister's disappearance pushes her onto a path of investigation and discovery. This book is weird but lovely. As I did get a chance to read it already, I can vouch for really fantastic writing and a consistently compelling story.

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho was blurbed as "American Gods meets Crazy Rich Asians" and while I have no idea what I'm supposed to take away from that, I am very intrigued. Just imagine- a girl moving back to a country she hasn't been to since she was a toddler, psychic grandma's ghost, a powerful and mysterious deity, and gang warfare. Something for everyone!

Blackheart Knights by Laure Eve has one of my favorite aesthetics- modern knights. And these knights? They're on motorcycles. I'm sold. There's also prohibition style illegal magic and apparently fantastic writing. This is an Arthurian retelling I'm willing to joust someone for.

May the Best Man Win by ZR Ellor is another trans-led romance, but this one is *deep breath* friends-to-lovers-to-exes-to-enemies-to-lovers, and yes I jumped on it the second I saw it so have already read it! After Jeremy comes out as trans, he's determined to prove himself by running for prom king- but it sets him up against his best friend from childhood, and recent ex, who's hoping prom king will get him a chance to go to a better college. These characters are so flawed and so fun to watch together, and I can't wait for people to meet them.

Mister Impossible by Maggie Stiefvater is the second book in The Dreamers Trilogy, AKA the sequel to Call Down the Hawk. If you somehow missed out on The Raven Cycle (the series this one's a spin-off of), you should still pick up CDTH and prepare for this one if you like angsty gay teenage boys who can pluck things out of their dreams, fantastic and sketchy magical underbellies, chaotic prophecies, and incredibly sus agencies hell bent on killing magical people.

Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdar may seem like de ja vu because it's another Bangladeshi fake dating/secret dating story! But this one stars two bi girls and takes place in Ireland. Though Hani and Ishu have never interacted more than they had to due to a bad reputation, and a refusal to get pushed together just because of their cultures, when Hani comes out to her friends as bi and gets told she's just "confused" she lies and tells them she has a girlfriend... Ishu. This is the author of The Henna Wars and this book is somehow even cuter than that one.

Happy reading!

[funkylittlebard]

You're safe with me, I promise- Chapter 1

Hello! I posted an Ao3 link to this before when I first wrote it but still- ta da! I'll post the actual words on here this time and all.

This one's a bit long, about 5.7k of Geskel fluff followed by smut.

Rating: Explicit

CWs: Trans Geralt, Established Relationship, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs, Dubious Consent, Sexsomnia, Frottage, Frottage Sexsomnia, Enthusiastic Consent, Thigh Riding, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Light Dom/sub, Bottom Geralt, Top Eskel, Fluff and Smut

Geskel fluffy smutty goodness below & notes from author's note re. how I refer to Geralt throughout

Also, from the notes on 1st chapter, this small warning:

Hi! Few things that are a bit spoiler-y but still: Geralt is trans in this fic, and as such I've used words to describe his genitals that might make some people uncomfortable (dick/ cock/ slit/ cunt). Also, the dub con refers to one person grinding on the other in their sleep, waking up a bit embarassed, getting reassured before they both give explicit consent before going on to have sex (I've put the specifics in the tags). The snow was still falling softly and settling gently on the thin layer of white powder covering the courtyard when Geralt stepped in, Roach following close behind. She shook her head, mane flying out behind her and whinnied as Geralt gave her a small, appreciative smile and petted her flank. As he walked her into the stables, there was a cry from the entrance of the keep.

“Hey! He’s here!”

Geralt frowned almost imperceptibly as he started taking his saddlebags down from his horse before he could begin grooming her. Sure, he’d taken a little longer than usual to head back, but the snow wasn’t that thick yet. He looked up and peered into the other stable stalls. Ah. That would be why then- he was very rarely last back, too eager to see Eskel in particular again after months of separation- and there were already three other horses stabled. They seemed perfectly content, happily munching their way through some hay. He let out a small huff, and his frown deepened. He had wanted to have everything set up before Eskel got back- he’d managed to find a few trinkets that he’d thought the other witcher would appreciate over the year. There was also that other particular… item hidden deep in his saddlebags that he was keen to test with his boyfriend. Somewhat put out at his surprise being spoiled, Geralt finished dealing with Roach (giving her a parting gift of an apple, of course, it wasn't her fault he was late) and hefted his bags up onto his shoulders. He padded across the snowy courtyard, snowflakes dampening his pale hair and making it slightly frizzy as he walked. Waiting at the door for him was Vesemir, who looked older and greyer than Geralt remembered him. He felt a jolt go through him at the thought. He willed it away as Vesemir brought him in for a hug, patting him roughly on the back.

"You're late. Thought for a while we might not see you this year."

Geralt grimaced. "It’s not that bad, is it?"

Vesemir crooked an eyebrow at him. "Eskel was getting quite worried. But then he's not doing too well himself, he's laid up by the fire in the main hall."

Geralt blinked, mouth going dry. "What."

Vesemir opened his mouth to explain, but the younger witcher had already shot off inside the keep, dropping his bags inside the door as he went. Vesemir sighed and picked them up with a small smile.

Geralt strode swiftly into the main hall, and he could feel his eyebrows slowly rising into his hairline as he caught sight of Eskel by the fire with one of his legs raised on a stool in front of him. He turned at the sound of movement, a book resting in his lap. Eskel began to smile but froze up when he saw Geralt's face as the man rushed towards him.

"Good journ-"

"What happened?" Geralt had reached his side and set himself down on his knees by Eskel’s side. He looked up into his face, absentmindedly searching for any new scars, a rush of air coming out of his mouth when he didn't find any.

"Geralt, I'm fine, honestly. It's not as if you've never come back injured you know."

But he was ignored as Geralt had moved over and was cautiously poking his leg, trying to discern the nature of the problem.

There was a thud as Vesemir dropped Geralt's bags behind them, which he studiously ignored in favour of rolling up the left leg of Eskel’s breeches. Eskel rolled his eyes, trying to hide a fond smile behind a hand he brought up to scratch at his scars.

“Geralt, honestly, I’m basically fine-” He winced as Geralt poked at the tender part of his thigh.

He glanced down at the other man affectionately, before huffing out a laugh and returning to his book. Geralt continued to examine his leg, undeterred. There was a harsh red line about halfway up Eskel’s thigh, cutting diagonally and curved slightly at the end. It looked like it had already been stitched and there was no sign of red skin spilling out around the wound, so he was probably safe from infection. Tentatively, Geralt grazed his fingertips across it, keeping a careful eye on Eskel’s expression. He saw him swallow, and his eyes tightened at the corners as he winced.

“It’s healing, but it’s still sensitive,” Eskel murmured, running a hand through his hair to brush it off his face. Geralt glanced up at him and squeezed his knee.

“How does it feel to walk on it?”

Eskel huffed and turned to look into the flames licking across the logs in the fireplace.

“Not great, but I can still move about alright.” He spun back and pinned Geralt with a look. “I’d be up for more strenuous activities, so long as it didn’t jostle it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Geralt spluttered indignantly, “No, no, I just meant-” He was cut off by a peal of laughter as Eskel tipped his head back in mirth.

“It’s fine, wolf.” He reached over and ruffled Geralt’s hair, receiving a half-hearted growl and a glare that was somewhat less effective because of the pout hiding below it. “Aww,” Eskel teased, watching Geralt try and straighten his already frizzy hair and move it away from his eyes. “You’re not upset I messed up your pretty hair are you, Ger?” he leant over and tucked a strand behind his ear. Geralt’s glower deepened.

“Not pretty, ‘s just hair.”

“Why do you care so much when I mess it up then, huh?”

Geralt blinked. He had no answer to that. He gave Eskel a light shove. “Shut up, Esk.”

Eskel smirked, amused by the obvious distraction his boyfriend was trying, as Geralt cleared his throat, and stood up.

“Uh,” he offered, eloquently. “Your, uh, thigh,” Eskel looked at him expectantly. “It, umm. Eskel, it’s a little, uh, it’s a little bit fucked.”

“Truly, you’ve always had a way with words, Geralt.” Eskel leered. Geralt turned away sharply, willing his hair to cover his cheeks as they flushed pink at Eskel’s words. Ugh, why did compliments and teases have to be so embarrassing? Gods, it made his skin crawl. And Eskel knew it too, the smug bastard- at least Geralt didn’t flush as easily as he had done before the mutagens. Eskel always used to lean in and whisper casual compliments when they were sat in the main hall, maybe about his footwork in sword practice, or how nice the curve of his ass was when he bent over, just to watch his friend go red in the face and squirm. He had always been particularly uncomfortable with heartfelt compliments, and Eskel had always, always, used it against him. Little shit that he was. But Geralt wouldn’t have him any other way, he thought, looking through his curtain of hair back at Eskel’s knowing smirk.

“Esk, why don’t we go down to the hot spring? The water will be good to ease the tension you’re carrying in your leg at least.”

Eskel hesitated a moment. Geralt nibbled at his bottom lip, wondering what he was thinking about. It wasn’t like he had any ulterior motives- he genuinely wanted to help his wounded lover. “Alright,” Eskel replied eventually, the moment apparently over, “Let’s go then. Lead on.''

They meandered down the path towards the steamy air of the spring. As they entered, Eskel wasted no time in reaching behind his neck and pulling his shirt off in a fluid movement. He left his breeches and smalls with it on the side of the pool and winked at Geralt over his shoulder before leaping into the steaming water.

He gasped as he resurfaced. Blinking, with water droplets decorating his lashes, he gaped for a second. “Fuck, Geralt.” he exclaimed, “it’s lovely in here.” He beamed at him prettily, and Geralt wanted nothing more in that moment than to press kisses all over his gleeful expression. He nodded instead, turning around to peel off his shirt. He took a quick glimpse over his shoulder before yanking his trousers and smalls down in one rapid tug and leaping into the water. It was a habit he’d formed so long ago, but even around people he trusted, Geralt couldn’t quite bring himself to break it. Eskel said nothing and pretended politely to be distracted by the bubbles, no matter how intimately familiar with each other’s bodies they were at this point. Geralt appreciated his pretence, though he still sent a shifty little glance over his shoulder before deciding to venture further into the water with him. As usual, Geralt buried himself up to his neck in the hot water and grabbed the soap, rubbing it hastily into a lather.

Whilst he was busying himself with the soap, Eskel looked up at him from beneath his lashes, and oh gods, but Geralt was done for. He was gorgeous with his strong, thick arms, and a trail of dark hair leading down across a deceptively soft-looking stomach- Geralt knew the strength hidden under there was formidable, but it still felt wonderful to lay his face against.

“Esk, how about, I wash your hair for you?”

Eskel looked over, eyebrows raised. He waited, not answering, and Geralt could feel the nerves rising in his chest, almost forcing his next words out in a hurry.

“Uhh, I mean. Umm. I, if you’d like, I could “ he stuttered, awkwardly. He winced. Why was he making this so hard? He’d washed Eskel’s hair before and now, when he was itching to do something nice for the man whilst he was injured, apparently Geralt was incapable. He frowned, and let out a quiet “Hmm”. Eventually, he sighed and tried again.

“Look, I wanted to help you, so just shift your ass over here and let me.” Geralt ground out, every line of his body stiff. Eskel grinned at him softly, the corner of his mouth pulled tight by the scars. It made no difference- his smile was still radiant as ever. He splashed a little as he turned around, sitting sideways on the stone bench.

“Go on then, pretty boy,” Eskel said, leaning back against Geralt’s chest. Geralt huffed at the nickname, but he didn't stop in his goal to pamper his partner. He reached behind himself to select one of the oils they kept on the edge of the bath for their hair. There was the lavender one that Lambert favoured- something about reminding him of some cat witcher, a fact which they all teased him mercilessly for- the dark liquid with the sandalwood smell that produced such a strong sense of security and warmth and safety in Geralt’s mind that it could only belong to Vesemir. He skipped past his own favourite- a hint of spice and smoke with the smell of sage lurking behind it- in favour of Eskel’s charred wood and saltwater fragranced oil. He spilled a little into his palm, and gently motioned for Eskel to tilt his head back. He had already ensured Eskel's silky chestnut hair was wet, so he tipped his palm over the top of his head and began to massage the oil in. He started with a very gentle pressure, and slowly built it up into something more insistent and firm. He could feel the soft little puffs of Eskel’s breath against his cheek when he leant around to spread the oil into the other man’s sideburns. Risking a look at his face, he saw that Eskel’s lips had parted, mouth left open and relaxed. There was a low rumbling noise coming from deep within his chest, an almost purring sound. Geralt pressed a kiss to his cheekbone. He dragged his hands deliberately down from his scalp to his shoulders and rubbed them gently for a moment, just enjoying the closeness he was able to share with Eskel.

Reluctantly, Geralt stretched an arm back out of the water to collect an earthenware cup. He filled it with water and covered Eskel’s eyes with one of his palms. Keeping Eskel pinned in place, he rinsed his hair and combed through it with his fingers.

“Alright you're done.” he paused a moment, “actually, wait.”

Geralt spread his palms out flat across Eskel’s back, pushing his fingertips into the skin beneath them and rubbing. His hands slid across his shoulders and down his back, easing the tension he was still carrying from the year on the Path with ease. Geralt’s calloused hands smoothed across his hips before gradually moving up his flanks. He could feel Eskel’s chest rumble on a pleased groan as his hands slid across his front, not lingering too long, but soothing nonetheless.

After a little longer enjoying the pleasant warmth of the water, Eskel dragged himself up onto the edge of the rock surrounding the water. Geralt slunk low back into the hot spring again, his mouth just about above the surface. “You head on up, I’ll be out in a minute,” he mumbled, not meeting Eskel’s eyes. Eskel tilted his head to the side, and Geralt was startled at the sudden resemblance Eskel bore to a confused overgrown puppy.

“Ger,” he said, lowering his voice and being careful not to smile at all in case he was misinterpreted. “You know I won’t judge you. Look, I'll even turn around.” He wrapped a bath sheet around his waist and turned to face the exit. “It’s ok, Ger.”

“I, I know that,” Geralt started, and took a shuddery breath. “I just… I don’t know.” He sighed in frustration, irritated by his inability to express himself. “I… hmm.”

Eskel waited patiently, as Geralt exhaled and splashed a bit in the warm water, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. Finally, Geralt huffed out a little resigned groan. “Makes me feel vulnerable. Like it used to when we were kids. Ugh.” He grunted and glared at the rough stone wall, embarrassed.

“Geralt. It’s ok, you're safe with me I promise.”

That pulled him from his thoughts. “Esk, I'm supposed to be looking after you, damn it. I’m fine, just gimme a second.” Geralt extracted himself from the water and hastily tugged a bath sheet around himself and over his shoulders. He padded over to Eskel and crept into his line of sight. “Sorry. Didn't mean to make you wait so long, put all that pressure on your leg. Let's head up.” He offered him a shaky smile. They headed back up through the cold corridors of the keep, bypassing the main hall and continuing up the stairs to their rooms. Geralt ushered Eskel in and pulled the heavy oak door closed behind him. Crossing the room quickly, he nudged a few of the logs in the grate around before flicking his hand into the sign for Igni and lighting the fire. Behind him, Eskel was already sprawled out across the bed, eyelids heavy and looking very content with the way he stretched his arms up above his head, a smug little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Geralt stood and dropped his bath sheet onto a chair that sat in front of the fire. He was less uncomfortable outside of public spaces. He didn't know what it was- it wasn't as if Lambert couldn't barge into the room as easily as the springs if he wanted to. Perhaps it wasn’t logical, but he could work on it some other time. For now, he slid up onto his bed and stretched his arm out across Eskel’s belly, snuggling into his side and entwining their legs, carefully making sure not to put any pressure on Eskel’s injured thigh. They both sighed, pressing close together, with Geralt petting Eskel’s side, and Eskel gently combing his fingers through Geralt’s hair. They lay there a while, enjoying each other’s company. But of course, it could only last so long. Neither of them knew how much time had passed, but eventually, Eskel’s stomach began to rumble. The pair of them chuckled, and Geralt pulled himself upright. He pressed a kiss into Eskel’s still damp hair.

“You stay here, I’ll go and get us some food.” Eskel nodded sleepily and gathered one of the blankets more firmly over himself. He started to burrow under it and Geralt could feel his heart melting slightly at the sight of it. How could such a large man be so adorable? He reached for a clean shirt, telling himself firmly that that was a mystery for future Geralt to solve. Fully dressed again, he headed back out of their room and down the stairs towards the kitchens. He could smell somebody cooking as he meandered down- the air was fragrant with the tang of spices, and he could smell some chicken being fried off. He heard a quiet ‘pop’ sound of a cork being yanked free from a bottle and rounded the corner just in time to see Vesemir leaning over the fire pouring some luscious burgundy liquid into the pot. Across from him, Lambert had obviously been tasked with the chicken, and he was glaring down at it as if he thought the heat from his gaze would cook it sooner. At least he hadn't burned it yet, unlike last winter. Geralt was never going to let that go. Vesemir looked up as he entered the room and offered him a quick smile before turning back to the important business of his stew. Lambert smirked at him as Geralt started to rustle through the cupboards for some dishes and cups.

“How’s Eskel?”

“Hello to you too, Lambert,” Geralt said, not taking his eyes off his task. “He’s just tired.”

“Oh,” Lambert responded with a waggle of his eyebrows, “I’m sure he is.”

Geralt scowled into the cupboard and grinned when seconds later he heard Lambert yelp as Vesemir swatted him with his spoon.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, boy,” Vesemir growled as he turned back to his pot again. Geralt shook his head, amused, as he reached for some bread and cheese that had been left on the side. Snatching up a tray, he balanced the two plates and cups, a jug of water and then reached into another cupboard to fetch some dried fruit. He hummed appreciatively when he found some cured meats and snuck some of those onto the tray too. That ought to do it, he thought. He nodded at Vesemir and Lambert, who very maturely stuck his tongue out at him, the little prick, and retreated back upstairs.

Back within the warmth of the room, Geralt placed the tray at the foot of the bed and helped ease Eskel up, still cautious of his leg. He leant in, his hair falling around both their faces like a curtain as he tenderly kissed Eskel once, then unable to help himself he leant in again for another. He scooted back to pass Eskel his plate, legs still touching as they went quiet for a while as they ate. The fire was still going nicely, oranges and reds flickering together in the grate, creating such a cosy atmosphere that Geralt could feel his eyelids start to sag. When he looked over at Eskel, he saw that the other witcher had already fallen asleep, his plate slumped against his chest which was rising and falling with his unnaturally slow breathing. Cautiously Geralt cleared away the plates, leaving the fruit for later. He smoothed Eskel’s hair back from his face and then climbed into bed himself, tugging and adjusting at the blankets and furs he had accumulated there over the years. He felt his eyes fall closed languidly as he pressed his nose into the nape of Eskel's neck and took a deep breath, inhaling his smell as he drifted off to sleep.

When Eskel awoke, the fire had burnt down to embers and the room was almost completely dark, save for the few rays of early morning light sneaking their way in as the sun began to rise over the edge of the mountain and across the valley below that could be seen from their window. He sighed contentedly, warm beneath the blankets and from Geralt who was pressed up close against him. He ran a hand across his face, trying to clear the haze of sleep from his mind. As he did this, slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings, he began to notice Geralt pushing insistently against his thigh. He paused, holding his breath whilst he considered the situation. Geralt’s breathing was coming out a little quickly and kept catching in his throat, coming out in uneven stutters. Eskel looked down at him, at where he was pushing against him. Oh, well that was interesting.

Eskel swallowed thickly as Geralt rolled his hips into his thigh with a little sigh. Eskel glanced down at his face. He was definitely still sleeping judging from the peaceful, open look on his face and the endearing way his eyebrows quirked upwards when he caught himself at a particularly satisfying angle. Fortunately, Geralt was positioned against his uninjured thigh, and whilst Geralt was still wearing his shirt and smalls from the night before, Eskel had never bothered to re-dress. With Geralt’s next rut against him, Eskel noticed his thigh getting damp as Geralt rolled into him again with a short, high-pitched whine. He felt his face warm slightly as his own cock twitched in response. He took a breath to compose himself and was reaching across for Geralt’s shoulder to shake him awake before this could go any further, when Geralt stilled completely and his breathing stuttered to a halt. There was a tense second where neither of them moved, and then Geralt shot upright, wincing as he sat up, and Eskel couldn’t tear his eyes away from where his damp underwear was clinging close to his body. Before Eskel could speak, Geralt had scooted away and was blurting out an apology as quickly as he could.

“Ah, Eskel, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Did I hurt you? I know it’s your other leg but what if I-” Eskel rolled his eyes as Geralt continued his embarrassed babbling. He had a much easier solution. He reached out and took a firm grip of Geralt’s hips, and dragged him over to sit on his thigh. Geralt stumbled to a halt, wide-eyed and flushed pink.

“Geralt,” Eskel said, stroking a hand down his face in a way which he hoped was comforting. “I know you didn’t mean to, and if you want to stop we absolutely can. However,” he continued, running his fingers down Geralt’s abdomen unhurriedly, “I would be more than happy to keep going, if you’d like.” He curled his fingers around Geralt just above the top of his smalls and waited patiently for a reply. Geralt gaped for a moment, the tips of his fingers tickling the top of Eskel’s hips, before he slammed his mouth shut and nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He grated out, voice still rough from sleep. Eskel smiled wickedly, and pushed his thigh up sharply between Geralt’s legs. He revelled in the little moan he received in return, gripped Geralt tightly by the hips, and did it again. Geralt whined and threw his head back, hair flying over his shoulders and across his face. His own grip on Eskel’s still sleep-warm skin tightened till his knuckles turned white as he ground his hips down onto Eskel’s thigh.

“Now then,” Eskel said in a low voice, “Don’t you worry about me, how about you finish what you started here, sweetheart?” He pushed his thigh closer as Geralt rode it faster, face flushing darker at Eskel’s words. He bit his lip and nodded as he began to frantically thrust down on Eskel’s strong, firm thigh. He shuddered, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his breath hitching as his dick pressed hard into Eskel’s leg. Eskel stared openly at the way he squeezed his legs together more firmly, gasping between his hurried breathing. He felt Geralt’s dick throb against the muscle of his thigh and heard him let out a surprised moan as another rush of slick dampened his already soaked smalls even further. He kept grinding down, panting getting heavier as he got closer to the edge. Eskel shuddered, feeling hot all over. He cleared his throat.

“You gonna come on my leg just from this, Ger? In your pants? You’re making such a mess of me, you naughty boy, maybe I should make you clean it up.”

Geralt choked on air, his vivid golden eyes popping open and going wide, a loud, needy whine working its way out of his mouth at the mental image. Eskel smirked- it was so exciting when Geralt got worked up like this, and with the sunlight coming in through the window he looked practically ethereal as he rode Eskel’s thigh frantically. Beautiful as the image was though, Eskel had another idea.

“Do you want to be a good boy for me, Geralt?” He gripped Geralt’s chin gently in one hand, the other staying firmly on his hip. Geralt licked his lips, nodding almost as rapidly as he was grinding. “On your back for me, then.”

Geralt frowned, but obeyed without hesitation- Eskel felt a rush of heat go through him at the easy show of submission. He smiled and leant over him, giving him a quick kiss to his lips before moving further down the bed. Making sure to adjust his wounded leg comfortably before he started anything, Eskel peeled Geralt’s damp smalls down his legs, breath catching as he caught sight of what was hidden below. Sticking out from the damp curls was Geralt’s dick, wet with slick and glistening in the low amber light. He swallowed as he threw the underwear onto the floor and reached for the bottom of Geralt’s shirt. He raised an eyebrow at the other man lying beneath him and tried very hard not to look at Geralt desperately shifting his hips. Geralt met his gaze and caught his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow furrowing. Tentatively, he gave a very small shake of his head. Eskel smiled kindly at him and released the shirt, before lowering his head down to press an indulgent kiss into Geralt’s thigh. He took a moment to enjoy how soft the pale skin on the inside of them was and yet how solid they were, before shoving them apart none too carefully and burying his face in between them. There was a sharp cry above him before one of Geralt’s hands flew up to his face to cover his mouth. Geralt spread his legs further apart and squirmed as he felt Eskel’s tongue lap gently at his slit before continuing in a slow path up to his dick. He couldn’t keep the little sighs and moans back as Eskel lavished him with attention, still holding him in place by his hips so that there was nothing Geralt could do to get more friction but whine and plead. He let his other hand fall into Eskel’s hair and tug on it to try and make him show more of that attention to his dick. But Eskel pulled back with a tut, leaving Geralt to cry out.

“Naughty boy, trying to decide what I do. Who’s in charge here right now?” Eskel stared him down as Geralt tried in vain to stop squirming, panting desperately.

“Y-you, Esk. Please.” He gasped out, eyes pleading with Eskel as much as his words. His pupils had grown so large and dark his eyes were almost completely engulfed by them.

“Alright then,” Eskel replied and leant back in, this time holding down Geralt’s right thigh and sneaking his left between them. He teased Geralt with it, running it over his cunt but never slipping in, glancing around his dick but never touching where he needed it. Geralt’s eyes closed again involuntarily as he panted. Eventually, Eskel slid his tongue into the warmth of Geralt’s cunt, lips curling into a smile at the moan from the trembling man above him. He ground his hips at a leisurely pace against the furs covering their bed. It was always a delight to make Geralt fall apart, Eskel thought, still licking into and around him, sucking every so often. He reached his hand up to finally, finally wrap two fingers around Geralt’s dick and stroke it. He could feel the shaking of his thighs around his face and lapped at him more determinedly. He moved to suck at Geralt’s dick at the same time as he slid a finger inside him, crooked it and pushed. Geralt gasped and groaned above him, wriggling and unable to hold still.

“Esk- ahh- Eskel I’m gonna, I-” he moaned out. Eskel shushed him with a featherlight caress of his thigh. He slipped his tongue free to press a kiss to the tip of Geralt’s dick, savouring the whine Geralt gave him in response.

“Sweetheart, you can cum whenever you want.” Geralt nodded jerkily, and bit his lip as Eskel continued his ministrations, moaning his appreciation for another minute before-

“F-Fuck!” Geralt exclaimed with a gasp as he came, grinding down onto Eskel’s mouth as he did so. Eskel pressed a barely-there kiss to his dick, and then each trembling thigh as Geralt sank deeper into the bed. Eskel sat up a bit more so he could still reach Geralt’s abdomen to pepper it with gentle little kisses and watched him as his breathing returned to a normal pace. He enjoyed the quiet and spent the time admiring Geralt’s reclining figure, feeling very relaxed and quite pleased with himself. He was, however, perhaps too relaxed. Geralt pounced on him, shoving him back onto the furs with no warning. Pulling his leg out to the side so that he could be comfortable, Geralt lifted himself up and sat over Eskel’s crotch. Eskel’s breath caught in his throat as Geralt rolled his wet cunt once, painfully slowly, over the length of his cock. “Wanna ride you,” he murmured and rested his hands on Eskel’s pecs. Eskel bit back a tiny whine as his eyes widened. Geralt blinked down at him, biting his lip and rubbing his thumb over Eskel’s left nipple. “Please?”

How could Eskel possibly say no to that? He could feel his dick twitching against Geralt’s, so enticingly close to that wet heat that it was practically making him salivate. His carefully maintained patience was fraying at the seams. He nodded without hesitation and helped Geralt adjust the pair of them into a comfortable position. Holding himself tight in one hand, he used the other to lower Geralt slowly onto his cock. They both groaned as he bottomed out, sitting there for a moment as they adjusted.

“Hmm, fuck Esk, ‘m so full,” Geralt whimpered. Eskel reached an arm forward to rub at Geralt’s dick, making Geralt buck up, still sensitive.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re being so good for me.” Eskel said, grinding up into Geralt, pulling him down onto his dick by the hips. Geralt’s hands dug into Eskel’s pecs more firmly as he started bouncing up and down, setting a pace that left them both gasping. One of Geralt’s hands had migrated to Eskel’s right nipple, teasing him with little pinches. He groaned and rocked his hips up into Geralt harder. Fuck, but he was so wet, and Eskel could feel his cunt gripping him as his cock slipped in and out. He glanced down, watching himself piston in and out, and bit his lip to hold in a moan. Gods, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“How’re you doing, G?” he asked, looking up at Geralt and watching his red face as he panted desperately, hair hanging dishevelled about his shoulders, brow dotted with sweat.

“G-great,” Geralt gasped out, clenching tightly on Eskel’s cock.

“Can you take some more?” Geralt panted and nodded in response, shaking slightly as he edged steadily closer and closer. Eskel reached between their bodies, and stroked two fingers up then down Geralt’s dick, once, twice and a final third time. He shifted it away as Geralt came with a loud wail and collapsed onto Eskel’s chest, twitching, breath panting out in warm puffs over Eskel’s shoulder. Eskel groaned deep in his chest and clutched Geralt close to him. He fucked roughly up into him a few times, listening intently to Geralt’s overstimulated whining and whimpering, making him moan loudly as he came. They lay, panting and exhausted, for a moment, until Eskel slipped his now soft cock out of Geralt’s hole, savouring the little whimper it produced. Eskel gently stroked his back.

“Now, I believe there was the small matter of you cleaning up your mess.'' Geralt smiled and burrowed his face to hide in the crook of Eskel’s neck. Eskel chuckled, and kissed the top of his head, cuddling him closer. “I’m kidding, let me get a washcloth.” Eskel wriggled out from underneath his boyfriend, who slumped into the furs with a soft “oof” sound. Eskel patted his ass fondly and fetched the cloth. Gathering up some of the fruit they’d ignored the night before and refilling the cups of water, he padded over to the bed again. They spent a quiet few minutes tenderly cleaning each other up and feeding the other dainty pieces of fruit, taking the time to make sure they both felt settled. With that done, Eskel chuckled as Geralt leant over the edge of his bed to find his smalls, wrinkling his nose at the state of them and grumbling as he had to move to the chest he kept his clothes in instead. With a pair shimmied on and the plates once again cleared, Geralt settled back into the bed and pulled Eskel up against his chest. He nuzzled into his neck, and Eskel relaxed back into it, both of them too comfortable now to be bothered at being so soft and needy with each other. Geralt moved his hips forward until they were flush with his boyfriend’s. Safe and cosy, he could feel his eyelids drooping. Eskel hummed in contentment and let out a yawn.

“Maybe,” Geralt said, swallowing a yawn of his own. “I could top next time.” His breathing evened out as he fell asleep. Leaving Eskel to mumble happily at the prospect and burrow himself deeper into the pillows before his own eyes fell closed.

[anne-writes]

Yaoi Fandoms; Representation or Fetishization?

1,305 words, 5 min~ reading time. Seperated into 25 paragrpahs for easier reading/writing. I worked on this while very sleep deprieved so comment an edits uwu. Essay under the divider. 

TW: Sarcasm, slight meaness (from me and others), inappriopriate messages to minors, censored cursing, babies?, I’ll update if I figure out any more.

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It seems whenever a thing in the media with plenty of men in it (youtube groups, bands, shows, ect.) will eventually come out with an MLM ship. This isn't inherently bad because men loving other men is amazing. Good for them. I'm so proud. The problem comes from the stans focused on this ship/couple. 

Stans, am I right? The majority of unneeded cancel-culture and cyber-bullying. (Note how I say unneeded) I don't actually mind a lot of stans, probably since I don't use Twitter often. 

Now my problem with stans is they find a content creator (musician, artist, YouTuber, ect.) and they try to make this person fit into their specific box of expectations via bullying, and fear of being cancelled and their career ruined. 

This sucks for many reasons, because, these content creators are still human, right? Stans don't usually seem to know this and put these people on an unreachable pedestal. Kind of like your parents who expect you to stay the same gifted kid throughout your life. It eventually gets exhausting. Let's put this train of thought on hold for just a few minutes.

Now all of that brings me to my point of writing this. Are yaoi fandoms a good thing or a bad thing? Are they asking for representation or fetishization of their faves? Are they trying to get more LGBTQA+ creators known or are they looking for their uwu gay babies? 

I think the question boils down to, who is writing the majority of the fanfiction and what kind of fanfiction is it? Are straight women writing your gay man smut for other straight women to enjoy? I think this is a good telltale if your yaoi fandom is good or bad. 

Now, I don't mind straight women writing gay characters having sex, having angsty sex, discovering themselves and falling in love, and straight women reading it,  because good on you for not caring about what kind of romance story it is! Everyone loves a good romance story for the many different tropes, I'm partial to enemies to lovers. 

I do have a problem when it's not really meant as romance and more something for straight women to get their rocks off if you catch my drift. Getting off to a gay relationship because it's gay is really weird in my opinion. (I'm looking at you, straight boys who watch lesbian porn). 

It's quite weird to get off to these kinds of relationships and leads to fetishization. We already are trying to tell the straight boys this, but the gays aren't around for straight people's porn-watching pleasure. It's the same as women liking gay men for being gay. Or men liking lesbians for being lesbian. 

I feel that a lot of Yaoi stans aren't asking for representation more so are they asking for two men making love for their pleasure. This leads to the box of expectations that seem to come with every stan. (I told you we'd come back to that earlier point) 

As soon as the ship is adopted by stans, it seems to always get joked around by the content creators associated with it. Examples can include, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, and Dream and GeorgeNotFound.

There's now the notation of 'well they brought it up so it must be true!'. And so, if the content creators continue making jokes about their shipname, the more of a cultish following grows and the more expectation for this to be real. 

This is pretty dangerous, as whatever one of those men gets a girlfriend, or a partner that isn't this specific person? Then the fandom turns against the 'traitor' and tries to solve any problems standing in the way of their ship. See Babygate. Whether or not you believe in that situation, the way they (stans) treated the families was just downright terrible. 

I mean sending porncaps to an underage minor? Just because you think the actress might also be the same girl that the minor's brother got pregnant, wtf. (Apparently, those larries aren't very approving of sex workers and porn actors/actresses /maybekidding,whoknows)

As terrible as that situation was handled and everything, it does show what kind of people those stans can be when something or someone gets in the way of their perfect ship. 

They also share the argument of 'this man is in love with another man, so he is gay' which makes me think they're even less so wanting representation. Because representation at its finest would be all sorts of sexualities, genders, ect. not just one specific sexuality.

Representation can come without fetishization. Many content things have been able to accomplish this. For example, some nice MLM webcomics can be found on Webtoon. Blades of Furry is quite cute, and perfect for all my furries out there. Boyfriends is about a Poly MLM group of 4. (Kiss it goodbye, Not So Shoujo Love Story for you WLW in need) (I wanna be a cute anime girl for my trans cuties.) (The Four of Them for a story about a group of kids discovering themselves.)

You can ask for representation without it being about the actual sexual component. LGBTQA+ smut is good for communities with these kinds of ships, but it shouldn't come at the cost of sexualization. Their relationships shouldn't become all about sex, because a lot of people do actually have the ability to keep it in their pants y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶o̶r̶n̶y̶ ̶f̶*c̶k̶s̶. 

Posters being obsessed with their top and bottom components and how this person has to act a certain way because they are a top or a bottom are just the same people who think dom and sub roles need to be in every relationship. Who cares about who's the top or bottom when we can just care about their love? 

I'm not here to tell you not to ship MLM ships or WLW ships, or any of that. Honestly, that would just be hypocritical of me. I just want people to realize that by allowing yaoi fandoms to sexualize these kinds of relationships, you are solidifying a point in your brain, and other impressionable people's brains that gay people are only for sexual enjoyment. 

Whilst I think that IRL ships are pretty weird, everyone is going to probably do that anyway. Just allow that person to be straight, or any other sexuality, allow them to have other partners and don't make their entire life and career around one little thing. 

Don't expect people IRL to obey/act how YOU want them. They're humans too, and relationships are complicated. Maybe down the line, your fave comes out of the closet, but you shouldn't force them to come out just because you can 'sense' it. 

It's their life, it's their sexuality/gender/identity, allow the choices to be theirs. Forcing someone out of the closet makes you a d*ck. No matter what. No 'but it was so obvious!'. No 'well it was true!'. Forcing someone to reveal a private detail about themselves is creepy and d*ckish. Who cares if you're right, you could've harmed that person's homelife or anything. Maybe they wanted to keep it secret because who are you, as the fan, to dictate what they can share with you. 

And so, I leave you with some final words. Not everyone has to be gay, as much as, not everyone has to be straight. Sexuality and Gender identity are a spectrum and you cannot decide anyone else's. Allow people to be who they are, and don't stalk people. That's f*cking weird. 

I hope you all have a fantastic day/night/whatever. And next time, think about if your actions will be helping the community or not. I'm sure no one means to harm it, but it's ok to check in with yourself and your actions every once in a while to better yourself.  

[just-ornstein]

Capp siblings, Tybalt, Juliette & Hermia ❤️💔🌈🔮🌷🍕

Ahhh my children! <3 Thank you for this ask!

Tybalt Capp: ❤️: OTP Mercutio/Tybalt... I mean is that even a surprise? Besides the enemies to friends to lovers trophe that I absolutely adore, reading Shakespeare, the play "Tybalt and Mercutio are Dead", watching the movies and their Sims bios/memories, I felt like both may have way more in common than they might think! Both the black sheep of their family, ton of responsibilities placed on their shoulders from a young age and in reality both simply want to be told that they're doing a good job. I think that once they'd put their Monty/Capp status aside and have a genuine conversation they'd quickly come to realize they're not that different at all!

💔: No OTP Honestly, I'm not too big on Tybalt with anyone but Mercutio (even though Puck/Tybalt can be kinda cute). However, I cannot for the life of me imagine Tybalt in a straight relationship, even makes me mildly uncomfortable because I so strongly headcanon him as gay. To anyone that does like him as straight, totally cool, more fun to you! In the end everyone plays Sims differently and as long as you're having fun that's all that matters. :D I just cannot imagine Tybalt as Straight myself haha.

🌈: Sexuality Ohhh, this dude is gay, very, very gay. He didn't realize for the longest time, just thinking he hadn't found the right girl yet, until well... He got to know Mercutio properly and he was shot with Cupid's arrow. A lot of frustration piled up that he didn't even realize had to do with the fact he was developing feelings for someone.

🔮: Something Random With some Occult ancestry on his father's side he may have more magic running in the family than he might think. ;) He's also amazing at fencing, something that was taught to him from an early age on and often used for self-defense... And sometimes simply to show-off. Cares a great deal about his family as well, like his sisters are his everything. A secondary Family Sim for sure!

🌷: Flowers or Plants They Like Tybalt has a lot of internal turmoil but he has some fond memories of picking flowers with his mom as a child. Forget-Me-Not was a common flower to be found and sometimes he still likes to be near them to be reminded of his mom. Amaryllis is also a flower he loves, planted in the Veronaville gardens his mom would sometimes pick a few pretty ones to put on his room. They represent pride and self-confidence. The name meaning 'to sparkle' because Cordelia loved seeing her son blossom into the young and loving person he was turning out to be. Sadly when she died his self-confidence went down the drain and he became way more agressive about trying to keep up that pride. These flowers are some he does keep on his room, or pick out when he sees them blooming in the garden to bring to his parents grave. Lastly Wolfbane also known as Aconitum. A beautiful purple flower often associated with Occults. This one I picked for him because I feel like that while they are beautiful, these flowers are often associated with a warning sign, to remain cautious. But even misantrophy and death. The colour purple is also associated with magic, richness and royalty (and all 3 of these flowers have pinkish-purple colours, or at least variations that have it). The reason why I picked these in particular? Well... It will later on become more apparent as the story progresses. ;)

🍕: Pizza Topping Onions, pepperoni and extra cheese!

Juliette Capp: ❤️: OTP I don't really have an OTP for her, but I do like her with Romeo and while I'm actually pairing Romeo with someone else for the first time. They're still a pairing that I think is cute and could definitely work on the long run. But they need to remain open and honest with each other. I don't interpret Romeo being a Romance Sim as him being unfaithful, but rather that he cares a great deal about romance, loves affection and may, be polygamous. Once they talk everything out I think they would literally die for each other, I mean hey, they're Romeo and Juliette! They'd be the type of super cutesy couple you'd see on the street, sharing ice cream, laughing, etc.

💔: No OTP I don't think I have a pairing for Juliette that I genuinely dislike. At least I haven't ran across anything that made me go: Ehhhh.

🌈: Sexuality As Straight as a pole! She might be bi-curious, but I think she would lean way more to men. She's also asexual!

🔮: Something Random Is actually very good at writing poetry and keeps several collections in her room, she would likely send them to Romeo or read them for him. And Romeo? Has kept every single one she's written for him in a specially assigned book in his room. He keeps them very close to him as they're very special. Juliette also probably doesn't even want to be the Heiress, but it appears she doesn't have much of a choice. She was raised to carry on the name, something she had been prepared for since birth. But she doesn't dare bring it up, most of it is probably placed in underlying insecurities. If she had someone she could talk to she would probably feel way more confident in her role.

🌷: Flowers or Plants They Like Sunflowers! Their brightness and colours just bring so much happiness to her and if it came to her she would probably have grown them in the garden of their mansion as well. Sunflowers also stand for faithfulness, loyalty and adoration, something which in my opinion greatly represents Juliette who's probably of the most supportive people you can have in your friend group.

🍕: Pizza Topping Tomatoes, cheese, olives, onions and mozzarella! If she's feeling especially daring green peppers on top of it as well.

Hermia Capp: ❤️: OTP Hermia/Puck or Hermia/Puck/Romeo! I wasn't too sure on Hermia/Puck at first until a friend of mine really managed to sell me on the idea. They're soulmates, very much meant to be together, loving to share knowledge with each other, tarots, fortune telling, magic, etc. They also love each other for everything that they are, even the flaws, trusting each other with everything. I cannot really say why I love Hermia/Puck/Romeo yet as it would be a major story spoiler, but I do think Hermia and Romeo have way more in common than one might think as well. c:

💔: No OTP Hermia/Mercutio, I simply cannot see it happening. While I think she may have held feeling towards him, they weren't deeply rooted and in the end Puck had always been her first love. Mercutio does eventually understand and move on from it as well. They remain close friends.

🌈: Sexuality She's bi and falls for someones personality. While she can develop crushes easily, she only falls in love deeply after developing a deep and emotional bond with someone.

🔮: Something Random Hermia is a trans woman, something she knew very early on. Her family and friends have been nothing but supportive! Hermia, despite what her interests may reflect is actually fascinated by magic, occults, sci-fi, etc. Similarly to Tybalt she's got magical ancestory and if stimulated it's very likely she might become one of the most powerful Witches the world has ever seen. She's always been interested in nature and Puck's fairy ancestory and likely would want to become a part of that world in the future as well.

🌷: Flowers or Plants They Like Unlike her siblings Hermia is moreso a succulent type of person. Being into magic and dating Puck she's started making herself more familiar with them, as well as herbs and spices, to try and get into making medicines and potions. Succulents are also way easier to take care off than flowers which can decay rather easily. If she had to pick a flower she'd like (although she would mostly use it for her hair or decorations) it would be a Sea Holly, which despite their prickly and torny exterior have beautifully dark colours, which is also great to be used in medicines.

🍕: Pizza Topping Mozzarella pizzas are her favourites, she also likes herbs on top of it for some additional flavours.

[ardenttheories]

Homestuck's always been antagonistic and insensitive, but I don't recall seeing any of you try to dox Hussie? But please, continue to rationalise how cyberbullying lgbt people for not being nice enough and having opinions about a fictional character you disagree with puts you in the right. A story doesn't go the way you'd like and this is how you respond? You COULD have just not bothered reading it instead of CHOOSING to make your online life about something you hate like a toxic weirdo.

Hi, Kate. I’m so glad you could find my blog. (Edit: that was a joke. Apparently, some anons find it impossible to tell that I don’t actually think you’re Kate). It’s clear to me that you didn’t take the time to read through any of the content that’s actually on here, since you’re throwing around rather wild accusations, so let me take this down step by step.

Homestuck has only rarely been antagonistic and insensitive. Things like the Alpha Trolls - which were clear criticisms of fandom culture - were relatively few and far between, and when we complained about them, they actually stopped. Remind me, for instance, how relevant the Alpha Trolls were to the plot? How long they stayed as mockeries towards the fandom? Yeah, not long. I actually have talked about this before on the blog - alongside other things I thought were negative towards the fandom from the original comic - but the difference here is that... in the entirety of Homestuck, these things were outliers and inconsistencies. They stuck out because they were in stark contrast to the otherwise wonderfully handled content Homestuck went over.

For instance, Homesuck is critical of abuse - especially in terms of relationships. We see through a critical lense the shit normalisation of parental abuse can do to a child - with actual talk of triggers and of the mental and emotional scarring left behind, and the complexities of the child’s feelings towards the parent’s death through Dave - and we see how self destructive relationships can be, how harmful they are, and how hard it can be to leave them - such as Terezi’s very toxic blackrom with Gamzee, which was always portrayed as something negative and harmful especially with how worried Karkat was for her and how withdrawn she became during its run, and Dirk’s relationship with Jake, which goes very much over how communication can cause a deterioration in romantic relationships especially when the two participants have conflicting mental illnesses. 

It also goes over how men, though they can be mired in toxic masculinity, can choose to be good. How sometimes we’re not born as good people, but we can become good people through the love we have for the people around us, through frequent attempts to check what we’re doing, through the sheer willpower to be good. Dirk’s entire arc, knowing that he could very easily become Bro but deciding he doesn’t want to be, that it’s something he wants to work on, is so important and incredibly powerful. Mental illness in men is often just given as an excuse to make them violent with no attempts at betterment - so Dirk actually existed as proof that you don’t have to be that stereotype. 

In contrast, Homestuck^2 completely uncritically gave Jade, who was cis, a dog dick, made her, a bisexual woman, a sex maniac and the yaoi “woman who gets in the way of the gays” trope, made her a cheater and someone who forced her partner into the relationship to begin with, and made her a neglectful mother after having cheated with her best lesbian friend in something that has incredible recall to just about every futanari video ever - and they tried to claim that this was good representation of trans women, actually, and that the only reason we didn’t like it is that Jade is “a woman” who “has sex”.

Likewise completely uncritically, they made Gamzee, an anti-black stereotype, enter a relationship with Jane, a fascist, and then made the entire thing into a cuck joke wherein Jake being frequently drunk and sexually assaulted was funny because he wasn’t “man enough”. They then forced him to go back to his abuser after he left her in a scene that read very much like, “ridiculous man thinks woman is abusing him, go back and do your manly job”. 

This, of course, doesn’t even go into the travesty that is any form of trans representation in the comic. Roxy, a trans man, is barely even focused on as trans; they make no attempt to enforce in the fandom that he’s a trans man the way they do that June is a trans woman, and even then, they seem to think that just saying someone is a trans woman is actually good representation. Not, like, bringing it into the comic - just saying that it’s a thing. And of course, that’s not even going into the completely uncritical lense they have of Vriska, wherein her being a trans woman completely frees her of any and all blame for the past abuses she has comitted, and once again she becomes an amazing character to save the day without a single flaw - which in turn inherently associates trans women with abuse apologism, abusers, and the ideology that just because we’re trans we can get away with anything scott free. 

I honestly cannot think of one instance of good and genuine representation in Homesuck^2, nor can I think of any scene where negative content was actually treated as the negative thing it actually is. There’s no critical lense at all, not like we have in Homestuck; there’s just no fucking comparison. And this isn’t a one-off situation, either. Whereas Homestuck does do fuck ups - isn’t perfect - in between the otherwise brilliant content, Homestuck^2 is just founded upon these horrific takes. There’s almost no good content in between, and what is left is a slog to get through when surrounded by the thick slurry of shit that compromises futa Jade, abuse apologism Vriska, and victim blaming Jake. 

Of course, we didn’t “doxx” Hussie. Hussie actually listened to our complaints, for the most part, and worked with us to create something that worked well. The way Homestuck^2 was touted to work. You know, since it was meant to be written with the fandom in mind, influenced by the things we suggest and react to. We went into Homestuck^2 with the explicit idea that we were going to be listened to and taken into consideration when it was being written - the way we were with old Homestuck. I’m very sorry to say that, when you make these expectations, people are going to be a titchy bit upset when you then commandeer the entire thing and exclude the fandom from any of the process that you said they were going to be part of.

Additionally, it’s rather funny, isn’t it, that what you call doxxing is actually just people upset with how triggering content is being handled, and going to the people who actually wrote the content in order to voice their complaints? It’s almost as if social media exists to allow this communication between reader and author, which is a fundamental thing you’ll learn in any creative writing course, such as the one I’m on currently, wherein you’re actually taught how to respond to social media and to build up your image with your fans. 

Homestuck^2 is an ongoing piece of media. We’re well aware that we have a potential to change these uncritical takes and the horrific way they’re being handled if the writers will just listen to genuine criticism. This is, frankly, no different to the people who go to J. K. Rowling’s Twitter to tell her how harmful her transphobic comments are; because if she believes these things, they will work their way into her texts and will perpetuate harmful ideologies. 

The literal same thing is happening in Homestuck^2 - again, such as futa Jade, which normalises the point of view that bisexuals are cheaters and completely trivialises what it means to be trans, or Gamzee, which perpetuates just about every anti-black stereotype possible. Media does have a very powerful impact on what people see in the real world. This is why, for instance, positive black characters are so important in media; if they’re always portrayed as villains, then people will see real world black people as villains as the ideology is perpetuated to the point of fact. This is especially true if the people already believe in the ideology.

Fiction is one of the best ways that we can counteract this cycle. If you make a character that they like, and they happen to be positive representation, and then they watch more media that is likewise positive representation, it’s more likely to stick that these positive representations are the actual experiences of minority groups. Also? It’s important TO those minority groups. A black person, especially right now, doesn’t want to see an anti-black stereotype fuck a fascist, engage in sexual assult, and then enact pedophilia - only to die at the hands of a hero and be laughed at for the death. Surprisingly, shit like this is why we need to tell the writers that what they’re doing is harmful, that they’re perpetuating phobic ideologies, and that we need better representation - especially in a comic that is this widely read, and also has a very large minor fanbase. 

I shouldn’t need to explain why exposing minors to anti-black stereotypes, transphobic, homophobic, biphobic, abuse apologism, victim blaming, and the trivialisation of rape and sexual assault (especially towards men), might be a federal fucking issue. 

So, no, we’re not actually cyberbullying LGBT+ people. We’re trying to hold shitty writers accountable for the incredibly toxic and harmful ideologies they’re forcing into a text that has always been written with critical thought in mind. 

I should also point out how funny it is that you’re focusing on how some of the writers are LGBT+ - as if we’re not? I’m trans, I’m gay, and I’m ace. Yes, I can actually be these things and absolutely furious that a trans women is writing some of the most transphobic shit I’ve seen in a while into characters she then claims to be completely free of blame. We can be furious that people within our own community are enforcing negative stereotypes.

Being LGBT+ does not make them free from blame. We cannot give them a free pass to be racist, to be transphobic, to be homophobic, biphobic, to be abuse apologists, just because they’re LGBT+. Not only because that’s just a terrible fucking idea to begin with, but because it also reflects so, so badly on the community as a whole. As if being part of the community instantly means that you can do no wrong? As if there can be no toxicity within our own community, despite the fact that there very much is and it is still an issue to this day?

That is such an issue, one of the biggest issues even shown just in Vriska and the way Kate handles her as a whole - and, once again, is WHY we need to get them looking at this shit more critically. This view that LGBT+ people can do no wrong and cannot be criticised is shoved into Homestuck^2 and, once again, perpetuates the ideology. This isn’t something to be proud of. This isn’t something that’s actually okay.

Also, your point that the writers aren’t nice enough and that we disagree on fictional characters - well, I’ve already been over the second part. But for the first part, I would like to remind you that they aren’t just random LGBT+ people on the internet that we’re going to because we think their takes are a little shitty. They’re actual writers working on a piece of media. They are official content creators. 

Again, one of the first things you learn on any creative writing course is that when you become a writer, you gain a significant amount of responsibility for your interactions with the fandom. This is something that you genuinely have to expect, and if you don’t, then, unfortunately you just don’t know what it means to write something that thousands of people have a potential to read. As a writer, it is your responsibility to portray your image online; it is your responsibility to engage with the fans in a meaningful way; it is your responsibility to not cause drama and to listen when criticism is brought up, to have genuine discussion and not to perpetuate hatred - especially towards your own fanbase.

Consider, for instance, the way I’m talking to you right now. This is the sort of tone that someone should take when talking to a fan about genuine criticism. When things are brought up, you go over them step by step, you listen, you write back - you don’t go on a flurry of “fuck yous” to a minor who asked you why your team didn’t post anything about the BLM movement on the official Twitter, and you definitely don’t respond to every comment with genuine criticism with the word “pigshit”. You almost definitely don’t tell your trans masculine and masculine-aligned nonbinary fans that their opinions don’t matter.

As a writer, Kate and the rest of the team have a responsibility with their interactions with their fans. They aren’t just normal fandom voices anymore; they’re official fandom voices, voices that have more weight behind them than anyone else. They’re who people are going to turn to when it comes to anything regarding Homestuck^2. Their words now reflect literally everything about Homestuck^2, the future of Homestuck as an expanded universe, and the opinions of the group as a whole. They have to be careful with what they say. They have to be held to the same standards as industry voices because that’s essentially what they are - especially now that Homestuck is something you pay for. 

Also, this isn’t a point of the story not going the way I want. This is a point of many of people in the fandom being upset with how content is being handled, upset that their voices are being shut down, upset that triggering content is being laughed at or used flippantly and without care or respect. This is people being upset that trigger warnings were removed specifically to make the comic unsafe for them as a punishment for daring to say that something was wrong. This is people being upset that a piece of media that used to be so fucking good at portraying sensitive content in a critical light, that used to be so good at normalising LGBT+ identities and healthy representations of those identities, has suddenly turned to this. 

The story can go whatever way it wants - and frankly, that’s fine be my. What isn’t fine is that content is being used specifically to hurt and to incite.

And, of course, that final piece; nothing will improve if we don’t say that it’s wrong to begin with. Someone needs to voice the complaints of the fanbase, othrewise these toxic ideologies are going to go unchecked. One of the biggest things I’ve come to understand while making these posts is that a significant portion of the fandom feels isolated in their hurt; they don’t think other people feel the same way they do, and several people have mentioned feeling like they were going crazy because they were upset with things that the text and writers are normalising. It’s so important to make sure that these people know they’re not alone. It’s so important to make sure that our voices are heard. It’s so important to try and create critical discussion and debate over something that so many people still fucking love. 

The thing is, I don’t hate Homestuck^2. I actually really, desperately wish I could enjoy it. I wish I could read through it and theorise, could go in depth about how amazing the characters are, could write long and extensive posts on how creative and engaging it is - could even just go on about how interesting the Meat-Candy divide is, and all the points they’re trying to make about canonicity. But I genuinely fucking can’t. There is just so, so much wrong in the text that is completely unrelated to plot and to the overarching Point that makes it impossible for me to read, to want to read, to try to encourage other people to read. They’re things that literally don’t need to be in there, either; stereotypes and toxic ideologies and uncritical or badly handled sensitive topics that could be rectified so, so easily. 

Homestuck^2 could be amazing for a lot of the fandom. It could be something that we all rally around the same way we did for the original comic. For for a lot of people, it has ruined their fandom experience, has ruined their desire to want to read anything more to do with Homestuck, and has caused a significant portion of the fandom to just drop out entirely. That in and of itself should be a sign that this isn’t just a little fandom drama. That this is something much bigger and much more serious that, just maybe, needs to be looked into, talked about, understood - and, potentially, changed. 

[sepublic]

I managed to watch Infinity Train Book 2 finale!

I mean, everyone else has already said it, but... goodness what a phenomenal finale. What an amazing season, absolutely superb in EVERY respect! After Book 1 introduced a setting, Book 2 went out of its way to further expand on it! It... it’s like after Book 1, Owen and his team got the hang of what they wanted to do with the show even more and we got Cracked Reflection as a result!

Lake! Lake is free! She can see her reflection now! SHE GETS TO BE WITH JESSE AND EVEN MEETS NATE!!! Her emotional breakdown and anguished declaration of personhood at the end of the Tape Car lowkey gave me chills... That was powerful, watching her just break down in frustration at the pure, inherent unfairness of it all and even destroying robot workers minding their own business in her pain.

Really, that whole sequence in the Tape Car was nightmarish. Its name REALLY doesn’t quite cover what it’s like, and I felt like I was watching the Matrix with that scene of all of the pods lined up on a wall, robot tentacle-arms, people asleep and floating in murky liquid...

Also, that scene felt like all of the passengers were inside an even bigger, larger nervous system of sorts. And with how weirdly-organic it was for such an otherwise mechanical, sterile environment, I half-expected to see some horrific organic thing at the end of all of it, acting as the brain and nervous system for the Tape Car and potentially the entire Infinity Train! Goodness this train is so eldritch.

Seeing more of how the process works was also neat, as well as new robot workers! I kind of already expected the “Didn’t care about Lake and Dracula” bit but it was still neat, and on an unrelated note, we see what the point of the squiggly red-line vocoder is for on the pods; It’s apparently where the audio of One-One’s video comes from!

(Side-note, but that kid being messed up from accidentally killing a pet... That kind of hit close to home and honestly I felt that.)

And seeing the Steward again... FINALLY! Someone else suggested that the Steward is created to defend the Infinity Train’s mechanisms if they’re attacked, and this episode seemingly confirms it; It also makes the Steward’s preprogrammed command for passengers to ‘return to their seat’ also make more sense when you realize that the voiceline is probably meant for situations where passengers are in areas they really shouldn’t be (especially parts of the Infinity Train’s anatomy).

Everyone called it, but we FINALLY get to see One-One inside the Steward, piloting it as intended! And also, I’m glad to see I was correct in One-One now acting as a Lawful Neutral character due to his power and authority putting him at odds with people who are struggling with the Infinity Train’s system. Seeing him again is so weirdly nostalgic, and I love how we get to see the darker side of him as he struggles with what to do with Lake. Him popping out of the Steward to roll around in stress is amazing, too.

I love the idea of the Infinity Train struggling to quantify an ‘issue’ it can’t deal with by producing non-integers (many of which have no actual mathematical meaning, like ;P). It’s interesting that One-One talks about solutions to people’s problems, and how said problems are shown through numbers. And the solution to the problem is zero... It’s all like a complex mathematical pun and it’s incredibly clever. Also, him explaining that the train ‘fixes’ passengers... It makes me wonder if the Infinity Train is meant to be, like. A maintenance robot for humanity as a whole? A powerful machine built to ‘fix’ people’s malfunctions, a very specific kind of malfunction, an emotional one. This perspective and the Infinity Train’s mathematical, computer-like approach to everything (down to Lake fooling it as if by hacking) makes its nature and unknown origin all the more fascinating. 

Sieve isn’t happy... Big surprise there, but I didn’t expect him to get through the situation by suggesting a ‘solution’ to One-One’s problem that the latter darkly considers. He was always the more clever of the duo and good at dealing with/convincing people, and it shows. Not gonna lie, seeing him die by getting zapped by Dracula’s lasers and exploding from it in gorey fashion was... I should be more shocked, but after the Wasteland I’m not. God I love this show.

(Also, Sieve should show a little more respect to the Conductor and not PUT HIS FOOT ON HIM- He’s lucky One-One didn’t sic the Steward on him!)

Jesse having a second tape showing his experiences with Lake, all as memories building up to his newest problem, no Lake, was also great and I love how the show elaborates that tapes are specifically imbued with the memories related to and leading up to the issue that causes a passenger to board the train. Also, when he and Nate were talking about freeing Lake, I half-expected that joke theory about Jesse yeeting Nate down the stairs to get in trouble again was, like, going to happen, with Nate even voluntarily helping for it. But luckily the Infinity Train recognizes Jesse’s emotional distress of not having Lake as enough of a problem itself, and Nate doesn’t get any more broken bones.

(And can we appreciate how the FIRST thing Jesse fixates on after waking up is Lake? I LOVE THESE TWO)

I love in particular how Lake figures out how to cheat the system by reflecting Jesse’s number on her... And upon realizing this solution as well, Jesse’s number immediately goes to zero because he realizes it’s practically been solved! This kind of clever thinking and exploitation of the rules of a setting and using it to one’s advantage is one of my FAVORITE things to see in media, ever. It’s way more fun and clever than just a generic ‘Hero gets an emotional power boost’ that most stories have, and it’s part of what makes shows like Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure so endearing to me! Glad to see Infinity Train joining the list of shows that use galaxy-brain thinking to save the day!

I was really worried for a second that Sieve would stop Lake as she and Jesse escaped, and for a moment they seemed safe... But SOMEHOW he got a hold of Lake’s foot, genuinely surprising me after I sighed in relief when she arrived in the ‘regular’(?) world. At that point I was wondering what Alan Dracula was even doing, when LO AND BEHOLD Lake uses grass to beckon him!

Really, I love how in these last two episodes, Lake has figured out how Dracula operates and has grass and solutions stored accordingly. It just goes to show how well she (they? him? Lots of trans/NB coding with Lake) knows him. Also, I was lowkey anticipating some dramatic reveal about Alan Dracula, what with the foreboding foreshadowing in the minisodes and One-One’s confusion... But no, hilariously, he’s just like that. And that’s amazing, alongside the fact that One-One just treats him as... A particularly unusual creation of his, even by the train’s standards. (I should rewatch Dracula’s minisode cameos under the context of One-One having made him). Also, apparently One-One DOES design train inhabitants? Or is Dracula just the one? How many does he design? All of them? SO MANY QUESTIONS-

Finally, we get our happy ending, and Lake FINALLY gets her true name, which I’ve been looking forward to all season! Wonderful, phenomenal, amazing, brilliant season and amazing ending! Now I already miss Jesse, Lake, and Alan Dracula. I was a bit disappointed we didn’t get to check up on Tulip or Atticus, but perhaps that’s for another season.

This DOES make me wonder what Book 3 could be about, because there’s so much potential! We still have that blue-haired girl that was shown at a panel, whom an animator was excited to show off... Considering her distinctive trait I think she may be the next protagonist. Others have also suggested the old man that Lake scared off, and that’d be neat as well (Why not both? Perhaps we could have two passengers in a season, or one after the other!). There’s also the issue of the Apex, which as I expected, would be brought up in Book 2 to probably be resolved in Book 3. It’s like how Lake and her storyline were introduced in Book 1, and seemingly ended, only to be revealed that Mace and Sieve are still after her, and THAT storyline is truly resolved in Book 2.

I’m just excited, man. Between The Owl House’s premiere and the Book 2 finale, I’m just blown-out and exhausted. It’s been a wonderful train ride and I can’t wait for the next stop!

[ploppythespaceship]

@imsadidontknow​ asked me on this post why I referred to the TNG episode “The Outcast” as “a hot mess” (this might have been a while ago but I’m only just seeing the reply now). So I thought I’d take a moment to address it! Because this is an episode that gets brought up a lot and while I vaguely respect it for its efforts, it really did drop the ball. I think the more time passes, the more Trekkies will look back on it with embarrassment.

Side note, some of what I bring up below is from this post written by my friend Eros, shared with permission. They just don’t want their post reblogged, please respect that! Reblog this one if you want.

A recap if you don’t recall the episode! The Enterprise crew is helping a race called the J’naii, who are androgynous -- they have no gender. During their work together, Riker grows closer to one of them, a pilot named Soren, and eventually falls in love. Eventually Soren reveals something very personal: she is actually female, but cannot be open about this in her society. Soren is later found out by her people, and her passionate plea for them to accept J’naii of all genders into their society falls on deaf ears. She is forced into a treatment to “correct” her -- at the end of the episode, it appears that she longer views herself as female, and she no longer has feelings for Riker.

One thing that’s important to remember for this episode is that, despite the story having an apparent focus on gender, it was actually intended as an allegory for homosexuality. By this point in the series, Star Trek was coming under more and more fire for not having any gay characters, which was largely thanks to head producer Rick Berman being a homophobe and a coward. (Renegade Cut has a fantastic video essay on the many ways Berman screwed over the series and its actors here.)

So that’s one point of issue with this episode. Instead of actually including a gay character -- which would have been quite easy to do! -- the writers wrote this episode. An episode that doesn’t even bring up homosexuality. In fact, a line referencing sexual orientation was cut from the final version! Addressing serious issues with allegory is of course a Star Trek staple, but in this instance it’s just frustrating.

There’s also the fact that several people, including Jonathan Frakes, requested that Soren be played by a male actor to strengthen the impact. But Berman refused, on the grounds that “having Riker engaged in passionate kisses with a male actor might have been a little unpalatable to viewers.” Clearly, homophobia was still winning out.

(In fairness that likely would have opened a whole host of other issues, such as two men only being allowed to kiss when they’re portraying a straight couple, but still. The root cause was homophobia and viewing two men kissing as gross. I digress.)

The episode is also troublingly sexist. In one scene, Soren asks Dr. Crusher about the differences between men and women, and if one is better than the other. Crusher replies that in the past women have been considered weaker, but “that hasn’t been true for a long time.” Considering the rampant sexism behind the scenes of TNG, especially directed at Gates McFadden -- look it up, or watch the Renegade Cut video I linked above -- this is a pretty hypocritical statement to make. Star Trek has always looked to a brighter future while stumbling over the same issues in the present day, that’s nothing new, but it’s still upsetting.

Worf is also displayed as a raging sexist during a poker game, which makes absolutely no sense. Klingons certainly believe in rigid gender roles, as we’ve seen in other episodes, but Worf has also displayed an appreciation for strong women over and over again, and he clearly respects the women around him. Making him super sexist for this one scene to make a point? Not a fan.

When considering the episode as a parallel to homosexuality, it does work a little bit better. I will grant that. Soren’s final passionate speech in particular makes more sense and feels less cringey. However, the episode is ultimately based around gender, and that’s not something to just shrug off because the writers didn’t intend it that way.

So how did Star Trek handle a genderless race with a transgender character in 1992?

Ehhhhhhh.

First, there’s the J’naii themselves. All are played by female actresses, which has received criticism from many, including Frakes as mentioned above. The ideal would be having them played by actual non-binary actors, but I grant this would have been near impossible to pull off in 1992. The next best thing would to cast a mixture of men and women in the roles. But instead, we have all women.

Also, pronouns! The episode spends its full runtime dancing around not having pronouns for the J’naii, and it’s honestly painful to watch. Riker says there is no genderless pronoun in his language. But singular they/them pronouns have been around for a long time, well before the airing of this episode. The J’naii also explain that they have their own pronouns in their language -- if there is no proper translation, why not simply borrow the pronoun from their language? I grant that would probably be a lot to juggle in an already tight script, especially with viewers unused to non-traditional pronouns, but it could have been an excellent teaching moment. Instead, we get to watch everyone carefully construct sentences to not include any pronouns at all.

Riker (and the rest of the crew) is also pretty distinctly uncomfortable and unused to the idea of someone existing outside of the gender binary. Obviously this is an episode from the early 90s and it’s not going to be perfect, but it’s still disheartening to see people from the future who are supposedly so enlightened, the best of humanity, struggling the instant something challenges their viewpoint. In particular, struggling with an alien who exists outside of the gender binary, when there are humans who exist outside of the gender binary right now.

I’ll just quote my friend here, because they sum it up better than I ever can:

to think that humanity could become so advanced 400 years from now, but my gender still won’t be accepted. and yeah, it’s just a tv show, and yeah, it’s sci fi and none of it is necessarily meant to be a prophecy for the future. but it IS supposed to represent an ideal future. and not having non-binary genders be part of that ideal future hurt then, and it still hurts now.

The episode does show a pretty realistic view of homophobia/transphobia with the J’naii’s lack of acceptance. And the unhappy ending does prompt more thought than a perfect happy ending would -- and importantly, it’s not shown as being a good ending. It’s clear that the viewer is meant to feel sad about what’s happened to Soren.

But consider that for many trans and/or non-binary people, this is essentially the only representation they have on Star Trek. Someone who is outed against her will and forced to conform, to return to a society that doesn’t accept her for who she is. And then she’s never brought up again. It’s frankly pretty upsetting.

As an aside, I think The Orville has honestly handled a similar concept much better. The episode “About A Girl” deals with parents in an all-male race having a daughter, and debating whether to have her surgically altered to conform or to let her decide for herself when she is old enough. The ending is similar, with the decision forced upon the child -- their daughter is now their son. However, this is not the only time the issue is brought up. The son is a recurring character, and the parents discuss what’s been done to him. It has a lasting impact on their relationship. It’s not perfect, but it’s leagues ahead of anything TNG did.

There are also more episodes dealing with the same issues, showing women of that race who did not have this forced upon them. It’s treated as a more serious plot arc, instead of a strange thought experiment for a single episode. There’s also a scene where the men come to find the women in hiding and the women kick their asses while Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” plays in the background, please watch The Orville please pleASE

But back to Star Trek! The episode also has the unfortunate implication of portraying the genderless race as entirely villains. Again, there’s nothing automatically wrong with this, as it fits the allegory quite well. But when that’s the only example of such a race in Star Trek to date, when the only non-binary representation is a group of bigots... that’s not great.

And that’s a long list of reasons why “The Outcast” is a hot mess. There are some other criticisms as well, such as the romance between Riker and Soren feeling quite forced and rushed, but those honestly pale in comparison to everything else. I love Star Trek, I love TNG, but this episode just... does not work.

[izzy-b-hands]

You Send Me: Chapter Four

Some NSFW intimacy, a concert, and the breaking of that first rule mentioned in the last chapter, because honestly, how long could you really keep a relationship secret from bandmates you’re that close to? But props to Freddie and the reader for trying! 

Also, as this is an AU, I’m letting myself mess about with dates as needed, so if you’re looking at the tour listing for this year in the US and going ‘hey what’, my apologies lol. I’ll try and make mention of what city they’re in here and there to help keep a notation on where in that tour timeline we are. 

In regards to the intimacy, I admit it was informed by my own experiences and some of my feelings, so it may not be one hundred percent one size fits all, if you will, but I tried to go as general as I could, for a FtM reader who is on T and has had top sx (I haven’t yet but dang it this fic is wish fulfillment for me too lol) but isn’t having bottom sx. Hopefully it will still read well and be interesting and good regardless, and since this is my first go at it I only hope to improve as time goes on (because I’m having fun writing this, and might well write another Freddie x trans FtM reader fic after this one is done!) 

@xmxisxforxmaybe requested a tag on this, so consider this a start of a tag list for this fic! I’ve never done that before on a fic, so it’s a pretty cool landmark for me! If anyone else would like to be tagged on future chapters of this fic, just send me an ask or a message and I can add you!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

You woke to the sound of the shower running, and realized it must have been later than you anticipated. Part of you wondered what questions you might meet during the concert setup; namely, the rest of the crew asking where on earth you had spent the night. The other part of you just hoped they maybe hadn’t been paying attention or looking for you, and they wouldn’t ask at all. 

In any case, any worries evaporated as Freddie stepped back into the room, and your brain briefly and wonderfully short-circuited. 

His hair was still dripping, and aside from the towel tied around his waist, there was plenty to take in. Granted, you had seen it last night, but you didn’t think the joy of seeing him relaxed, happy, and disrobed would fade anytime soon, if ever. 

He was just so...tiny. Muscular, but lithe, with hair covering his chest (a particular favorite thing of yours that made your heart beat fast) and a happy trail you resisted the urge to trace with your eyes (that made your heart beat even faster.) 

He caught your gaze and smirked. “Going to blink, or have I broken you?” 

“I’ve been blinking,” you protested with a laugh as you finally blinked and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

“Your turn, if you can tear your eyes away,” Freddie teased before letting himself drop onto the bed, head tossed back and eyes closed as he lounged. 

“If we didn’t have a show to do, I wouldn’t,” you said. “But, considering I haven’t even checked the time...” 

“We have two hours,” Freddie said, then cackled as you shot off the bed and like a rocket into the bathroom. “I was kidding! We have three!” 

“That isn’t better!” you shouted back as you hurried to shower. “God, they must be wondering where we are.” 

“Probably just wondering what we’re up to,” Freddie shouted over the sound of the water. “And that’s none of their business, so nothing to worry about.” 

“Is it really that easy?” 

“I think it can be if we just say that it is,” Freddie replied. “And ignore any badgering they do to us for information.” 

“You make it sound really easy,” you said as you finished, grabbed the last clean towel, and wrapped it around your waist. 

You weren’t thinking about Freddie seeing you like this as you came out, only going through your racing thoughts over what needed to be done for the concert that night. They kept you occupied, even as he stood, walked over to you, and plucked delicately at the edge of your towel. 

“We have three hours.” 

That broke your focus, the feeling of his finger against your hip, working to slowly pull open your towel. 

“We should talk,” you said. “Before. I mean. I don’t...” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Freddie said. “And it wasn’t your friend’s intention, I don’t think, when he told us more of the...let’s say specifics, of your transition, to make you uncomfortable or to be out of line, he meant nothing bad by it, I promise.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief. “So you know then...I haven’t had and don’t plan on getting bottom surgery.” 

“Right,” Freddie said. “And that’s fine.” 

“Really?” you asked.  It wasn’t that it was bad that he was fine with it, it was great in fact, you just hadn’t been sure how he might react or what his feelings on the matter might have been. 

“Would you be in my room, and would I be trying to get this damned thing off of you if it wasn’t?” Freddie asked as he continued to fuss with your towel. “For fuck’s sake, did you knot it? And if so, where? And how?” 

You laughed, and help push at the other side of it until it fell. 

“Are we really going to be done and ready in three hours?” you asked with a smirk as he led you back to the bed, slipping off his own towel as he did. 

“Not if we did everything I had planned,” Freddie smiled. “But we can get to some of it, at least.” 

‘Some of it’ was more kissing (and god how was he this good of a kisser? Was there anything he could do badly?), and the realization that his fingers were just as talented elsewhere as they were on the piano, enough that you finally had to grab his wrist to let him know you needed a moment. 

He grinned at that, only for it to drop as he gasped at the touch of your hand on his cock. 

“Hold on,” he reached over you to the bedside table, for a small bottle of lube that had been tossed in the drawer there discreetly (not really, you and Freddie had made pointed eye contact when he’d put it there) when you’d first settled into the room. 

“Three hours?” you giggled. “You do remember that’s all the time we have, right?” 

He set the lube beside you before pulling you in for a kiss, just as the door to the room popped open.

“Ah! I told you I could get it-” Roger waltzed in, a bobby pin and what looked to be a half-broken key in his hand. “And I am not the only one ‘getting it’ apparently. You do know what time it is, right?” 

Freddie flushed, yanking the blanket over the two of you. “We have at least two hours le-” 

“You would have that,” Brian interrupted as he walked in, covering his eyes, stumbling into the furniture as he went. “But I’m willing to bet you forgot about the difference in time zones. Did you?” 

“I did,” Roger admitted. “Bri here was the shining, annoying beacon of light that came to wake me up.” 

Brian snagged Freddie’s watch from the chair at the other side of the bed, and tossed it to Freddie. “See? Off by two hours still.” 

“So...” you started. “In other words, we need to move extremely fast and meet you in the lobby right away?” 

“Couldn’t have said it any better myself,” Brian replied. “And I still have to see if John is done yet. I mean honestly, how long does it take to do your hair, really?” 

“You? You’re the one saying that?!” Roger scoffed as he followed Brian out of the room, shutting the door behind them. 

Freddie’s head  thumped down against your shoulder as he moaned in frustration. “I would say sorry, but-” 

“I should probably get used to that?” you giggled. “It’s fine, we’ll find more time later.” 

“Says the person who doesn’t have to figure how to put on trousers with this,” Freddie said, gesturing down to his half-hard cock. 

“If we had more time, I would help with it, I swear,” you said, dragging yourself out of the bed and wrangling random clothes from your bag on the floor. 

“I believe you, but we should have had that time now,” Freddie sighed. “How mad would Brian be if we...” 

“Freddie,” you scolded gently. “We’d be keeping the fans waiting more than anyone else, probably.” 

“Good point,” he muttered, climbing out of the bed with a groan. “We are getting time to ourselves though, somehow.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” you replied, waiting for him to finish dressing, only for him to stop and stare at you once he reached the zipper of his trousers.

It took a moment, then it clicked. “Really? All because I’m still standing here, you can’t...calm down enough...” 

You failed to bite back a laugh, and he cocked his head. “Why is that funny?” 

“Because we’re in a rush, and because I have never caused that reaction in anyone, ever before,” you replied. “So I’m a bit tickled, honestly, even though I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t here seeing it myself.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I hardly doubt this is the first time you’ve put someone in this...situation.” 

“If there was a time before, they should have let me know,” you said. 

His gaze softened, and he seemed to realize exactly how serious you were. “Well, then there are people who’ve been missing out. But better for me, because then I get you to myself.” 

“You do,” you agreed. “Shall I meet you down there?” 

----

In the van, on the way to the venue, he slipped his hand into yours, hidden by the table in the van that currently held an active-but-temporarily-paused Scrabble game. 

It was hard to let go of him as you all piled out of the van, only to be met by the venue owner, swearing up a storm.

“Rats!” he practically shouted at John, who had the unfortunate position of being the first person ahead in the group. 

“You have them, or you have a plan that’s been thwarted?” John chuckled and grinned, only for it to drop as a vein in the venue owner’s head stuck out. “I take it this is a problem for our show?” 

“Well, I don’t know,” the venue owner laughed sarcastically. “I found out from the workers that in addition to damage from the last show, there’s also water damage and fucking rats, eating my stage! They’ve had a fucking rat pool party for years underneath my stage! I’m never going to fucking recover from this!” 

Everyone stopped and stared at one another. This wasn’t exactly your problem, and there was no way to give the man a solution, but there was the problem of eager fans waiting for a show.

“I’ve been turning people away since the last hour,” the venue owner said weakly. “I told them I would see about arranging refunds, or seeing if you can come back and perform at a later date, once I’ve got this bullshit fixed up. I’m so sorry.” 

Roger stepped forward. “No, it’s alright. I mean, this is bad, but if you didn’t know about all this damage until now...not much you or anyone else can do. I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

You joined the rest of the crew back near the van while the band talked business with the venue owner, impatiently waiting to see what would happen next. 

“If we get a move on now, we can be in the next city early,” one tech remarked. “Have a bit of free time again.” 

“We just got a fucking day off,” Crystal said. “If you wanted an American vacation, then this was the wrong tour to come on.” 

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?” argued the tech. “Don’t put words in my mouth just because you’re pissed about this. We’re all upset.” 

“It’s true,” you added. “This isn’t good for any of us, not the venue, not the fans.” 

“Oh, lovely. The bitch fucking the lead singer is going to preach at us,” the tech scoffed, and your heart stopped cold. 

“I-” 

Even Crystal seemed to realize it was a step too far, and held up a hand. “Hey. What any one of us decides to do with the band is our own business, yeah? As long as it doesn’t conflict or cause a problem. You guys don’t know everything I’ve gotten up to with Rog, right? Not ever fucked him, I mean, that’s not my speed, but...you get what I’m saying?” 

You all nodded, and you resisted the urge to cry, even as tears threatened to fall. If it wasn’t one thing, it would have been another. You were the new kid, taking up space, slow to learn, and fucking up their usual ways of running a tour. This was just a part of becoming a proper member of the crew, surely. 

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble to Crystal as the band started to walk back over to the van. 

“Not a problem,” Crystal replied. “Ignore them, okay? They’re just in shit moods because of this, and half of ‘em might even be jealous. Not for the fucking, I mean, but the closeness, you know? Everybody wants to have a story at the end of the day, wants to be able to say they know something special about the bands they’ve worked for.” 

“I really like him,” you said. “I’m not just with him to get ‘a story’ out of it.” 

“You’re young,” Crystal said, and sighed, then left it at that as he climbed into the van. 

Freddie didn’t ask anything when you were all in and on the road, but you could tell he wanted to ask what had happened. In equal manner, you were eager to know what agreement had been reached with the venue. If you would be returning and it would be the new last stop of the tour, you wouldn’t mind a mini vacation there with him, if he was up for it. 

And frankly, the rest of the crew could sit and spin if they had an issue with that. 

It was dark when the van finally stopped again, and you stumbled out of it only to find yourself at a truck stop. 

“We’re ahead of schedule, apparently,” Freddie yawned as he stepped out beside you. “You slept through us getting back to the hotel, so I grabbed your things. I’ve never seen you in that green top, why don’t you wear it more?” 

“Too bright to wear backstage,” you replied, thinking of the gauzy, electric-green button-up in your suitcase. You had packed it as a back-up, knowing it would likely never get worn anyway, but you would have it just in case you somehow couldn’t do laundry or ran out of everything else. 

“Fuck that,” Freddie said, then yawned again. “Wear it before a show then, when we’re on the road. That color must look lovely on you.” 

“It does, or so I’m told,” you said, and he raised a brow. 

“By my mum,” you continued dryly. “I wore it to a family event once to cause a stir. Think it was more of a stir that I showed up at all.” 

He opened his mouth, you figured to ask more about that, but Roger interrupted with a clap of his hands. 

“Use the bathroom, then get back on. We’ve got another hour to New Haven.” 

Everyone groaned in tired solidarity, and Roger laughed. “I know, I know. But we’ll get a little bit of time at the hotel, to sleep in an actual bed. That’s exciting, right?” 

“Depends on whether or not you’re going to keep breaking into my room,” Freddie answered. 

“Stop having such easily breakable locks,” Roger replied as he followed Freddie back onto the bus.

“That is hardly within my control!” you heard Freddie laugh back, and you pondered if any of the furniture in the next hotel would be movable, and would fit in front of the room door. 

If nothing else, you would try putting up the Do Not Disturb sign anyway. 

[the-small-one-to-rule-them-all]

In and Out

(no, not the restaurant, like the closet)

summary: Patton is both in and out of the closet. Coming out isn’t a one time thing, and it isnt always your choice. 

pairing: romantic Moxiety, romantic Logince

warnings: implied homophobia and transphobia, food mention, crying, yelling, panic attacks, not so implied homophobia, kissing mention. accidental outing, unaccepting parents

word count: 4,365

a/n: so, I have had this written for a long time and finally decided to publish it here. it feels like one of those stories that just has to see the light of day, ya know? Yes this is hurt/comfort I have a hard time writing much anything else lol. Enjoy! 

Patton crumples, falling to his knees as the panic hits him. He can't do this. He feels his hands shaking and he whimpers as the world seems to press in around him. He tries to take a deep breath, failing he feels himself start hyperventilating, his breathing going as fast as his thoughts.

A knock on the door startles him, “Patton, are you ready to go yet?” Virgil asks, “We’re gonna be late if we don't leave soon.”

When he gets no answer, Virgil frowns, “Patton, are you okay?”

As Virgil hears Patton’s hiccuping breath, he opens the door. His stomach drops when he sees Patton curled against his mirror panicking. He rushes over and sits beside him, “Hey, Patt, it’s me. It’s okay. I'm gonna breathe and you try to copy me as best you can, okay?”

A nod.

Virgil breathes deeply and Patton’s gasping breaths follow the rhythm of his breathing. Slowly Patton starts to breathe normally as the panic starts to fade. Once Patton is calm enough, Virgil pulls him into a hug.

Patton wraps his hands around Virgil and sighs, “I can't go to the premiere, I can’t, 'm sorry.”

Virgil runs a hand through Patton’s hair, “Okay, that’s fine. I don't really like dinner parties anyway, but can you tell me why?”

Patton curls further into Virgil, “My... my parents will be there.”

“You didn't tell me they were coming.” Virgil says with a frown. Patton knows he gets anxious about those things, he would’ve told him, right?

Patton shakes his head, “I didn't know. My mother texted, told me they were going to the party, said they were hoping to see me.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I'm too busy and that we won't be able to meet up.”

Virgil sighs, “Listen, Patton, you’ve told me you don't have a great relationship with your parents, but for the thought of seeing them again to give you a panic attack that... that’s a lot. If, if you can ... would tell me why?”

Patton takes a shaky breath, “Virgil, when I left home, I wasn’t out to them at all. They don't know i'm gay, let alone that i'm trans, going by a different name and dating you. Though I suppose if I told them I'm dating you they would assume we’re a straight couple, but...” Patton sighs, “Virgil, they have no idea. They wouldn't be accepting if they knew. They, they would hate me and probably disown me.”

Virgil sighs and gives Patton a big hug. He pulls out his phone, “I’ll call Roman and Logan and make sure they know we’re not coming and figure out what to do about your parents, alright?”

Patton nods and Virgil dials.

Roman picks up the phone while styling his hair, “Hey there, calling to tell me you’re gonna be late, Prince of Panic?”

Virgil sighs, “Hey Roman, and no. Actually, Patton and I can't make it.”

“Oh, is there a reason?”

“Uh, yeah, did you know Patt’s parents are coming?” Virgil asks.

Roman frowns, “We heard they were going, yeah. We thought it might be a nice surprise.”

Virgil shakes his head, “Well, it’s a nice thought, but not exactly. You see, Patton isn't out to his parents, like, at all and apparently they’re super homophobic.”

“Oh my dear sweet Cole Sprouse. I'm so sorry, we didn't know.”

Virgil shrugs, “Don't worry about it, we know you meant well.”

“Wait, if they’re going to be at the premiere, how do we avoid outing Patt? I would hate to deadname him or use the wrong pronouns or anything. What should we do?”

Virgil frowns, “Uh, I don't know, that’s up to you.”

Roman sighs, “Wait they don't even know us. I guess we’ll just have to avoid mentioning you two.”

“Well, If you’re sure that will work then I guess it should be fine”

“I am.” Roman insists.

Virgil sighs, “Okay, Bye Princy. I’ll call Logan and let him know we can't make it.”

“Bye, tell Patton we’re sorry.” Roman asks.

“He already knows.” Virgil tells him with a small smile, looking down at Patton curled in his lap.

Virgil hangs up and calls Logan 

“Hey Logan.”

“Hello Virgil. Why are you calling? Are you and Paton going to be late?”

“No, Logan, Patton and I won't be able to make it tonight.”

“Oh,” Logan blinks straightening his tie, “May I ask as to why?”

Virgil nods, “Sure. Patton isn't out to his parents at all and apparently they’re pretty homophobic.”

“Oh dear,” Logan clears his throat,  “I am sorry about that, we had no idea, we thought it would be a nice surprise to have them there.”

Virgil smirks, “Well, Patt got a text from his parents saying they were looking forward to seeing him at the premiere, so it wouldn't be much of a surprise, but that’s fine.”

Logan’s eyes go wide, “Oh my, I do apologize for any bad things that might have brought up.”

Virgil shakes his head, “Don't worry about it, we know it didn’t happen on purpose. And Roman is making sure his speech doesn’t mention Pat, he is hoping no one will realize you know us.”

“What will happen if word gets around to his parents that we do?”

Virgil sighs, “I don't know but that’s gonna be your problem to deal with, not ours.”

Logan nods, “Fair enough. Have a good night, you two will be missed.”

“Thanks Logan, tell Roman we think he did absolutely wonderful in the show. And I think we will have a good night. I figured we would watch some movies and make a fort in the living room.”

Logan smiles, “I will. That certainly sounds entertaining, just make sure to eat some protein, I know you two tend to just eat apples and popcorn when you do that and I want to make sure you are taking care of yourselves.”

“I thought Patton was the Dad friend.” Virgil says with a laugh, “Don't worry Lo, we’ll eat some salami we have left over from lunches this week.”

Logan nods, “That is satisfactory. Well, I need to go, it’s time to leave and Roman isn't ready yet.”

“Bye Logan.”

“Goodbye.”

Virgil hangs up and shoves the phone in his pocket, “Hey, why don't you get changed into your cat onesie and meet me downstairs with supplies for the fort? I’ll start getting all the furniture ready and set up the outside if you bring stuff for inside.”

Patton smiles up at him, eyes still watery, “That sounds good.”

An hour later they’re sitting side by side under a pile of blankets eating popcorn and watching Winnie the Pooh. 

Patton wakes up to a knock at the door. He smiles as he looks over to see Virgil asleep in his skeleton onesie beside him. Patton rubs his eyes and stretches, getting up to turn on the coffee pot. He jumps as he hears the doorbell chime. 

He looks through the peephole on the door and smiles, opening it wide, “Logan, Roman, what are you doing here?”

Logan lifts the large tupperware he is holding, “We thought we would bring over the leftovers from the premiere and share.”

Roman smiles, “Yeah, we thought we might give you two your own private party!” Patton grins, “Well that certainly is nice, but Virgil isn't up yet. Why don't you come in and I’ll go wake him up.”

“Patton, who are you talking to?” Virgil steps into the foyer with a cup of coffee in his hands, “Oh. Hi. I'm gonna-” Virgil points a thumb behind him. 

Patton’s phone starts buzzing frantically in his pocket and he pulls it out. He looks at it and his face pales. He opens it and scrolls a bit.

Virgil sets his coffee down, “Patt, what’s wrong?” he asks.

Patton opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He clasps his hand over his mouth. His legs buckle. Roman catches him as he falls, dropping his phone.

“What’s wrong Padre? You okay?” Roman asks as he leans Patton against the wall.

“My- my dad.” Patton gulps and stares at his shaking hands, tears falling down his face, “He, he knows. They know. They know everything.”

Roman frowns, “How could they?”

Patton shakes his head “I don't know. I.. I..” He stops, panic taking over as his breathing shallows.

Virgil sits beside him and walks Patton through the breathing exercise Patton had done with him so many times.

Logan steps inside and stoops down, setting down the tupperware and picking up the phone. He scrolls through the messages from Patton’s father, a scowl on his face. 

When Patton’s breathing returns to normal Virgil pulls him into a hug, “I’m sorry your parents are assholes.”

Patton chuckles dryly, “Thanks for the sentiment.”

Logan sighs, “Patton, did... Did you read all of these?”

Patton nods.

Logan shakes his head, “The nerve of some people. So ignorant, so dim witted. Good news is your dad hasn’t said any more since you dropped your phone.”

Patton frowns and takes a shaky breath, “That’s because he wants a response. Just leave him on read. He is so fluent in passive aggressive, he’ll know what it means.”

Roman takes the phone from Logan and quickly looks through the texts, “I want to call them, I have some choice words-”

“NO!” Patton yells, “Don't! Don't call them! It’ll only make all of this worse!”

Roman puts his hands up, “Alright, I'm sorry, I won't! It was just a joke, I promise.” Roman says handing the phone back to Logan.

Patton sighs, “I knew they would respond like this. There is a reason why I have almost never responded to a single call or text from them since I left home. I cut them out of my life. I'm not letting them back in.”

Logan hands the phone to Virgil and grabs the tupperware from where he had left it on the floor, “Would you two like to change while Roman and I set up a buffet of leftovers to take your mind off it?”

Patton wipes his eyes, “I appreciate the thought, but I don't think I could keep anything down.”

Virgil frowns, “What do you need from us Patton? How can we help?”

“Honestly,” Patton says staring at his lap, “I just wanna sit in the blanket fort and cry for a while.”

Roman nods and helps Virgil get Patton on his feet. Logan adjusts his glasses, “Let me put this in the fridge and I'll join you.”

Virgil smiles softly at him, “Bring water and juice boxes when you join us, will you?”

“Of course.”

Virgil, Roman, and Patton settle into the fort. Virgil moves the empty popcorn bowl and food plate on the table across the room before he takes his place on Patton’s left leaving Patton sandwiched between him and Roman. 

Roman grabs the tissues from the corner where they had been discarded and hands them to Patton who gives him a small smile. 

Logan appears moments later with juice boxes and water in hand. He sets the drinks down in front of the trio and sits beside Roman.

Patton puts his head in his hands and whimpers.

Virgil runs a hand through Patton’s hair, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s safe here. You can let it out.” 

Patton gasps out a sob and Roman places a comforting hand on his back.

Patton puts his arms down, hunching in on himself, “It just hurts. I knew what they would say but it... it still hurts so bad. I hate that it hurts. I hate it! It shouldn't, I cut them out of my life. I didn't think he would say...I mean i'm his child. How could he say those things to me?: 

“I mean, I guess, I... I thought maybe I wouldn't ever have to come out. I thought I could move away and never see them again. I thought they might never find out. I wasn't ready, I... I...” Patton stops, letting words give way to tears. 

Virgil takes Patton’s glasses off his face and hands them to Logan who places them on the table next to him. Patton manages to squeeze out a thank you and Virgil wraps his arm around Patton’s shoulders.

They sit there for a while until Patton calms down to sniffles and hiccuping breaths. 

Roman removes his hand from Patton’s back, handing Patton a juice box before placing it next to the other in his lap. “It’s okay that this hurts.” Roman says, looking at his hands, “Even though you knew what they’d say. It always hurts. It never gets easier to hear someone say those sorts of things to you, especially if it’s someone you wish would be supportive, someone that should accept you-.” Roman’s voice breaks and he sighs, tears falling down his cheeks.

Patton opens the juice box and drinks as he talks. When Roman finishes he looks up at him, “You... you too?”

Roman nods, “My parents, they always said they would never go to a gay wedding, not even for their own son, god forbid he end up that way.” Logan grabs Roman’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, “Needless to say, when they saw a picture of Logan and I on Facebook, they did not take it very well. The looks on their faces that day when I went home, the horrible things they said, I remember all of it. I'm so sorry you have to go through that too.”

After a long moment Patton whispers, “Does it ever stop hurting?”

Roman closes his eyes tight and whispers a pained, “No.”

Patton sighs, wrapping his arm around Roman and leaning against his shoulder.

Roman shakes his head, “This is all my fault. I never should've even suggested we let your parents come, much less without asking you. I'm so sorry.”

Patton sighs, “You couldn't have possibly known. I mean, I would've liked it if you had asked me, but you were trying to do something nice for me. I appreciate the sentiment. I appreciate that you would want to do something like that for me.”

“Yeah, but the intent doesn't really matter if I screwed it all up.” Roman insists.

“We don't know that we caused this.” Logan reminds him, “We don't even know how Patton’s parents found out. It could've happened completely separate from the premiere, and the timing led us to believe they were connected.”

Roman sighs, “I guess you’re right Specs.”

Patton and Virgil jump as Patton’s ringtone starts playing. Virgil pulls the phone out of his pocket and his eyes go wide, “Patton, it’s... it’s your mom.”

Patton starts to panic, “I can't answer right now! I'm a mess! Why is she calling? What does she want from me?”

Virgil declines the call. He puts the phone down and his hands in the air, “There, it’s over. We don't have to worry about it.”

Patton takes a deep breath and nods, calming down. Then the phone starts ringing again. 

Patton shakes his head, eyes wide, “No, no, no, no, no, no!”

Virgil declines the call.

Patton’s mom leaves a voicemail.

“Do... do you wanna listen to it?’

Patton doesn’t respond for a minute. Slowly he nods, lifting the phone to his ear and pressing play.

“Hello dear, it’s your mom. I know us finding out about all of this has to be a shock for you, and probably a painful one at that. I know you must be upset right now, but I just want to talk to you. I haven’t heard from you in so long, please. I... I just want to talk.”

Patton sets the phone down as the message ends, “That... wasn't as bad as I was expecting.”

Virgil nods, “That’s good.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Patton shakes his head, “No. I need a minute to think.”

They settle into a heavy but comfortable silence. They rest in one another’s company, knowing that they all support each other. 

Ten minutes later Patton’s phone rings again. They all stare at it for a few ring cycles, surprised she would call again. 

Patton’s lip trembles, “I'm gonna answer it.”

“What?!” Virgil asks incredulous.

“Just give me the phone.” he insists.

Virgil hands him the phone and Patton takes a deep steadying breath before answering. When he speaks, they are all taken aback by how calm he sounds. 

“Hello, mother,” he says, “This is Patton. If you are calling to tell me your thoughts on how the lifestyle I have chosen is wrong or to invalidate me, insult me, or try to get me to change, just hang up now. I've heard it all a million times before. So please, if that’s what you want from me, just leave before you make me go through the pain of that again.”

There’s a pause and Patton sighs, looking at the phone. Surprised to see his mom hasn't hung up yet he puts the phone back to his ear.

“Lu-” she clears her throat, “Patton, son, are you still there?” his mom asks.

Patton gasps shakily, a tear falling down his face, “Mom?”

“Oh, thank you for answering. I'm so sorry everything happened this way.” she says. 

“You’re... You’re calling me by my new name?!” Patton says with a smile.

The others share a look and leave to give Patton some space.

“Of course I'm calling you by your name. Why on earth wouldn't I?” his mom asks. 

“I... I didn't think you would approve.” he admits 

“Of your name?”

Patton shrugs, “Of my name. Of me. Of being trans and gay. Of not coming out to you.”

His mom sighs, “Oh. Patton, dear, I'm so sorry.”

“What?” Patton asks, confused. 

“I know the things your father has been saying to you, and I know it can't be easy to hear from him. And I'm sorry. But more than that, i'm sorry I never made you feel like you could be comfortable around me, like you couldn't be yourself, couldn't come out. You don't have to be afraid. I'm your mom, I love you and nothing is going to change that. Nothing. Not you being trans, or gay, or bi or anything else. I love you.”

Patton breaks down sobbing.

“Oh, honey i'm sorry i'm not there to give you a hug. Why don't you go get a hug from someone? I think I hear your friends in the background, right? Go get a hug, please.”

Patton manages a laugh as Virgil appears at the front of the blanket fort looking concerned. He makes a grabby hand at him. Virgil gives him a smile and sits next to him. Patton gives him a big hug, letting go when he calms down.

“Did you get your hug?” his mom asks. 

“Yeah mom, I did.”

“Good.”

“Hey mom?”

“Yes Patton?”

“How, how did you find out?” he asks. 

“Oh,” she sighs, “Well, when we realised we weren’t going to see you in person we kinda stalked you on social media, or we tried. We didn't know to look for your new name so we went through your friends pages looking for pictures of you. We didn't recognise you at first. We realised it was you when we saw a picture of you and... Virgil I believe is his name and a few of your other friends at a party. You two were kissing. If I'm being honest with you, it was a rather cute picture.”

Patton groans, “Oh that picture?!”

“Is there something wrong with that picture?” she asks. 

“No but if I was gonna come out to you with a picture on Facebook that one definitely wouldn't be my first choice.” Patton insists, hearing Virgil laugh quietly next to him.

“Well i'm sorry, but I can't change that now. Perhaps you can send me better pictures sometime.” his mom suggests. 

“I could do that.” Patton agrees. 

“I uh, I'd like to see you again, Patton, if you’d let me.  We could catch up, you could come out to me on your own terms, however you want to, showing me whatever pictures you want. We could meet at that little restaurant we used to always go to for milkshakes and have lunch or something. Would, would you want to do that?” she asks hesitant yet, hopeful.

Patton smiles, “I would like that. Does Tuesday work for you?”

“Lunch on Tuesday is perfect.”

 “It’s a plan. I’ll see you there.”  Patton says.

“See you there. Love you, son.”

“I love you too, mom.” Patton hangs up grinning wide. 

Patton stands up and pulls Virgil out of the fort rushing over to the others. He grabs Roman by the hands and spins in a circle laughing, still crying from the rush of it all.

“I take it the phone call went well then.” Logan says with a chuckle.

Patton stills, dropping Roman’s hands and facing the others as they stand around the table. “She called me her son. She used my new name. She said she loves me.” He whispers, tears of joy falling from his face.

“That’s amazing!” Roman exclaims, beaming and wrapping Patton in the biggest hug he can give him.

Patton feels another set of arms wrap around him, then another. He chuckles, “Well, today has been an emotional rollercoaster and I haven't even been up for two hours.”

Roman smiles, “Don't you love rollercoasters?”

Patton lets go of the hug, “Yeah, but I think I'm ready to get off the ride now.”

Logan rolls his eyes, “You hungry Patton? It's been a while and you haven't had breakfast yet.”

Patton wipes his eyes, “I am hungry, I hadn't realised. What did you guys bring over? Anything breakfast worthy, or do I need to make myself some eggs?”

(bonus scene)

Patton taps his fingers on the mug of hot chocolate in his hands. He looks around, his mom should be here soon. He sighs and takes a sip of his hot chocolate when he hears the door open and sees his mom walk in. He wipes his mouth and sets down the cup, standing to face her. She turns to see him and smiles. She walks briskly over to Patton wrapping him in the biggest hug. She kisses the top of his head bringing a hand up to hold the back of his head.

“I love you.” she whispers.

Patton smiles, “I love you too.”

She finally lets go, holding Patton by his shoulders at arms length, “Let me look at you.”

Patton blushes and looks away. She puts a hand under his chin and lifts his head to look her in the eyes. “You look very handsome. I like your hair, it suits you, but more importantly, you look confident and happy. You look so much happier than you ever did at home.”

“I am happy, Mom.” Patton says.

“Good, now why don't we sit”

Patton chuckles, “Okay.”

They sit and his mom orders a coffee.

“I would ask if you like anyone or if you’ve kissed anyone yet, but I think I already know the answer to that.”

Patton smiles, “I... thanks. That means a lot.”

“Now, why don't we sort this all out, and you come out to me properly, hmm?” 

Patton nods, “So what would be easiest? Should I go by chronologically how I figured it out or by label and tell the stories potentially out of order?”

She smiles, “Start at the beginning, it’ll be easier for you to keep track that way.”

Patton takes a deep breath, “Okay, well, do you remember that one time in middle school-”

“Wait, you never told me, are you and Virgil dating?”

Patton smiles, “Yeah, I thought it was obvious.” 

His mom sits forward, chin in her hands, “So, how long have you two been a thing?”

Patton starts to blush a bit, “It has been a while, maybe two years.”

His mom nods, “Is he treating you well? He loves you?”

Patton nods, “Yes mom, he is so good. He sat and helped me through a panic attack just this morning, he knows my favorite food and makes it for me on days where he notices I'm not feeling well, and most of all, he loves me. He really, really loves me. And I love him too.”

“Well he certainly sounds like a good man. I hope he knows that if he ever hurts you he is going to have to answer to me.” His mom insists, pointing to herself for emphasis.

Patton blushes and shakes his head, “Mom, he knows he’s going to have to answer to several people already! He hasn’t even met you!”

His mom shrugs, “Well, maybe one day you could introduce us, preferably before your wedding day.”

“MOM!” Patton groans fondly, “Come on, you’ve known about him for just a few days! But yes, eventually you two can meet. However, I can't just spring that on him! I don't want your first interaction to be him having a panic attack.”

“That’s fair sweetheart... can I call you sweetheart?”

“Yeah Mom, you can call me sweetheart, and don't worry, you’ll meet him.”

“Well thank you for the reassurance.” His mom stretches her arms, sparing a glance at her watch, “Oh my is that the time? I need to go home and clean up before I make dinner!”

“Well then I’ll let you go.”

“See you later Pat. I love you.”

Patton smiles, “I love you too, and mom, thank you.”

She smiles sadly and hugs him, “Of course dear, you will always be my child. I love you no matter what. Remember that, okay?”

“Okay.” Patton nods.

His mom gathers her things and leaves and Patton heads to his car once she pulls away. By the time he gets back to the house he is only just holding back tears. 

Virgil opens the door to him and Patton immediately throws himself into Virgil’s arms and begins to cry.

Virgil holds him and closes the door with his foot, turning his concern to the man in his arms. “Hey, are these happy or sad tears Pat?”

“So-o Ha-apy” Patton manages.

Virgil smiles and hugs Patton tighter, “Good, I'm glad.”

[mars-the-4th-planet]

Ivy Munger plays Project Libitina (creepy fic for Halloween for my friend, might be disturbing)

(part one of two)

The episode begins with Jukebox herself wrapped cozily in a blanket, which is how all the episodes should start. She was playing a mod for doki doki literature club called Doki Doki: New Horizons on her GBA. She had little else to do what with quarantine and all. Spookbox watched mischievously out the window, silently giggling and rubber her hands together. She slipped through the window and crept into the kitchen, somehow unheard by Jukebox who stayed focused on her game. Spookbox was visibly transparent to the audience the whole time, representing that she is invisible to the characters in TIMS. (the ivy munger show)

Just then, Trolli and Sakura comes strolling and trolling in. Sakura sits perched atop of Trolli's shoulders. Trolli leans over to look at Jukebox's GBA screen. Currently, Jukebox is making Natsuki Island. In the shape of a trans flag, because of the common Natsuki headcanon. Trolli sees it and chuckles. "Hehehehe, a rectangle island Jukebox? I haven't seen such creative talent since Sakura tied her shoes together. Without laces!"

"H-Hey... I told you, I didn't do it! There was an imposter and they sabotaged me!" protested Sakura helplessly. "Sure, Saki. But seriously, a plain rectangle for an island? I know you can do better than that Jukebox. Especially for Natsuki."

"It's in the shape of a trans flag for the trans natsuki headcanon! No need to tease me Trolli."

"Ahahahahaa, trans natsuki? I love trans rights as much as you do Jukebox, but natsuki has been proven many times to be cis." Trolli pointed out.

"Aren't trans flags just the same shape as-" Sakura began, but was cut off by YouTube personified marching in and throwing a throw pillow at Trolli. "DEMONITIZED! Slurs are not allowed on this platform."

Jukebox sighed and rested her head against her hand. Trolli shot back: "What, cis? Cis isn't a slur!" only to get another throw pillow thrown at him. "Okay, okay... I won't say it anymore, happy?"

"Can I just play my game please? Actually you know what I'm getting a snack. You all need to stop this bizarre drama before a fight breaks out in our comment section."

It was too late for that. Already an argument had begun between people saying "cis is a slur" and "cissy lives don't matter" but that wasn't the main problem Jukebox would have to worry about...

She walked into the kitchen, and got an unopened box of cereal out of the cupboard. Jukebox opened up the top, and with a crinkle she opened the plastic bag inside...

Immediately after it was opened, an arm reached out of the box and grabbed Jukebox by the collar prompting a surprised yelp from her. A second hand reached out too, holding a handgun and pointing it at Jukebox's face. She struggled but to no avail. "Mwahahaha... I just caught an imposter~" a voice said behind her. Jukebox heard sound of something phasing out of invisibility right afterward. "What the- Who are you?! Let me go! TROLLI! SAKURA! HELP!" She shouted, panicky.

Trolli and Sakura rushed in. "Oh no! Jukebox! Jukebox? W-Which is the real Jukebox?"

Behind Jukebox was Spookbox, except she wasn't wearing her usual demonic makeup and had clothes on that matched Jukebox. She just looked like an eviller Jukebox with her hands behind her back. Of course, her hands were not really behind her back at all, they were coming out of the cereal box. "I caught an imposter trying to steal our cereal!!"

"What?? Why would you do this imposter--are you the same one who tied my shoes together!? Hmph!" Sakura jumped up and down while asking this. "No! I'm not an imposter! Who is behind me, I can't see them! Stop being weird and help me! >_<"

"It's... You. Is this some kind of prank?" Trolli asked, looking quizzical.

"For real guys, it's me." Said Spookbox. "I think this is M. M stands for Me, so it makes sense that M would take the appearance of Me."

"What are you talking about??" Jukebox replied, still panicky. "I'm not M! I don't even know who M is! What do you WANT?"

"Hmm..." Sakura looked skeptically at the both of them. "Both of my senpais seem kind of sus... How can we tell?"

"It's simple. I'm good at games, so this imposter should have to play a game to prove it!" Spookbox suggested.

"Which game?"

"Project Libitina! It's scary, perfect for a Halloween special! And it fits with our theme, with our DDLC let's play being one of our flagship series!"

"Why didn't you think of that, other Jukebox?"

"To be honest I wasn't thinking about my channel's content at the moment, probably because I have a gun in my face..." Jukebox pointed out.

"Fair enough." Snarled Spookbox.

"So... I just have to play Project Libitina then? That's good I thought you were gonna take my money or something..."

"I'm also taking your money. Or should I say, MY money. Since you're pretending to be me."

Trolli and Sakura giggled at that remark.

"...Dammit"

"DEMONITIZED!" YouTube shouted from another room.

Suddenly, the screen went to black and white and froze in place. A rantsona appeared on screen, although it didn't resemble any real animal. It looked sort of like if you mashed a zubat from pokemon together with a teddy bear, made the resulting fusion really fuzzy and put a green cap with a red star on it. "ACTUALLY!" he said, although his mouth (which took up the whole face) only cut to a frame where it was open instead of having lip syncing. "Spookbox should not have been portrayed as the villain in this episode! She is a working class hero taking DIRECT ACTION against the bougie youtuber who makes millions off of playing video games! She was right to aim for recollecting Jukebox's wealth as a goal."

Sakura spoke up, since she was also a 2D character she could still perceive what was happening. Although she didn't move at all while speaking. "This is OUR video! Kindly bug off! No one wants to hear your deranged and incorrect-"

The odd rantsona shook violently for a split second, and the video cut to black.

Once the video flickered back on, Jukebox was jumping onto the couch, ready to play Project Libitina. "Wow, it feels like this video has been going on for a while! And we haven't even gotten to the game yet! So I'll keep it's introduction brief. Project Libitina was meant to come out in 2018, but Dan Salvado had several delays. Not this was in any way his fault, he claimed that after working on the game his health would rapidly decline and would receive death threats that made him scared to continue work. Eventually though, he was able to finish and now we finally get to play DDLC's sequel! Or... Prequel if Matpat is right."

Jukebox started up the game and watched as the intro played. A warning flickered on the screen, saying that the game was far too disturbing to be played by people without adaquete mental training and preparation.

"Wow can you imagine having that much motivation. Sick, scared, and he still finished the game? If only certain people could work with that much determination."

Jukebox looked indignant. "What, you mean me?"

"No." Trolli looked directly into the camera. This made everyone watching uncomfortable.

Spookbox swatted Trolli. "Cut that out! I'm supposed to be the creepy one."

"But-

"No fighting, I need to hurry up and film the gameplay segment." Jukebox interrupted.

"All right, with that out of the way, the beginning of the game gives you a nice recap on the portrait of Markov. You get to choose between playing as "Mister Jones" or someone just named "Squid". Squid looks kind of depressing, probably because there was pretty clearly an accident involved with her? I'm pretty sure the researchers tried to give her a powerful tentacle arm, but as you can see... It doesn't look like it worked very well."

"Sure this game isn't too much for you Jukebox?" Trolli asked, voice hinting towards actual concern. "Maybe the other box should have to play it first since it was her idea..."

"Nah don't worry, I'm a brave girl!" Jukebox reassured Trolli.

"So, we're playing as Mister Jones. He's a single father, his wife apparently died but it's not that important to the game really. He honestly seems over it, as mean as that sounds to say. But you see a lot of his internal dialouge and he doesn't seem too fazed."

"Right now we're doing an experiment to try and increase control over Libitina. She kept attacking researchers until we gave her a real bedroom. So my task is to watch her through the window until she gets so uncomfortable that she agrees to go back in her sleeping box instead."

Jukebox took a deep breath and swallowed.

"In fact, most of the game seems to be doing experiments on this kid. The catch is that she has mind powers and can mess with you and other characters in all sorts of ways. For example, since she can sense you coming to the window, by the time you look through it she's already staring at the window. As you can see she's pretty clearly scared of us, so she's going to try all sorts of things to get us to stop watching her. But if we can stay firm, she will become so distressed by being spied on that the only way she can feel any privacy is to go into her ventilated steel container we call her sleeping box. The goal is basically to make her wish she never demanded to have a real bedroom like a normal child."

Jukebox said this clearly, but her voice quivered a little midway through. "She will try everything to get you to stop watching her like I said. Right now I'm hearing things in my headphones like something is behind me in the game. Like an animal growling, someone breathing in my ear, twigs snapping from being stepped on. It's tempting to look behind yourself but if you do it reaffirms her power over you and she will get closer to the window when you're not looking. If she gets emboldened enough to reach you, you get a game over screen. But if you keep your eyes on her, it makes her feel powerless. See? She's trying to hide under her blanket. If she does that it gives you an opportunity to tap her window for giving her extra fear. Don't tap her window when she is looking at you though!"

"What happens then?" Spookbox asked, intrigued.

"I don't really want to talk about that, haha. You get a special game over, basically." Jukebox giggled nervously.

"Now, since she has the ability to draw nearby threats to you, you need to learn how to tell what noises are just her trying to trick you and what are actually dangerous. She won't approach the window when things are outside besides just you. So you can shoot whatever's threatening you. For being a chapter of the game where you just watch Libitina through her bedroom window, it's surprisingly unsettling for me- AAAA!"

A ghoulish person wielding a tool so bloody it was hard to tell what it was supposed to be used for yanked Mister Jones around in the game and swung the tool repeatedly at him. It moved with strangely few frames, like a rushed stop motion project. Jukebox was too late in reacting to the attack, and got a game over screen. The game over screen had Squid holding Libitina by her hand and leading her along a road in the middle of nowhere. They both seemed very happy about it.

"Ohh! Oh my god- that-- not going to lie, this game kind of gets to me. But I'm no imposter or a quitter so I'll just cut until after I find out how to beat this part! And that's just one of several things that can kill you in this part of the gsme!"

The camera cut to black just as Trolli started saying something. When it reappeared, Jukebox looked sweaty and Trolli and Spookbox were no longer in the room. "Okay, so, I finally got the win screen. It took a while, but we finally got Libitina to start shaking under her blanket, and at this point she can't or won't pull any more psychic nonsense on us. We still have to be careful about wandering enemies but we can freely look away from the window now. Any second now... Ah there we go."

A distant alarm went off in the game and a win screen popped up. "Success!" it displayed, over a background of research papers that were heavily scribbled on. A 2D anime style clip played of Libitina begrudgingly asking a researcher to please let her sleep in her sleeping box again instead of a bedroom.

"Now we can go on to the next task! Our need experiment is optional, and apparently is important to the lore according to literally the one post I could find online about the mechanics of Project Libitina. Seems like only a couple people have played it counting me, weird. The reason it's optional though is because it's "the main reason for the warning at the start of the game" but I'm a brave girl so we're doing it!"

Text scrolled on the screen as jukebox selected the chapter. "Knife Conditioning: to-"

Jukebox shuddered and turned off the game. "Yeah, no, not a brave enough girl for this. It's one thing to see disturbing stuff, another entirely to be the one causing it. I can see why this is a psychological horror game. It's just too much for me. Right you two?"

Jukebox turned around, and looked confused. "Trolli? Other Jukebox? Where did everyone go? Wasn't someone else here too?"

She shrugged. "Guess they got bored and left. Oh well! I'm Ivy Munger, and thank you all for a wonderful time!" Jukebox thought it over. "Well, maybe not wonderful but thank you for watching! And don't play Project Libitina unless you are REALLY sure you can handle the darker stuff. Apparently the game has a happy ending and I might get to that later in a future episode but I'm not doing the optional chapters I can tell you that much."