#is still maybe a little bit deeply fuckin racist even if you go It's Okay They're Our Buddies!

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

re: this post and its tags:

[racism mention, extremely violent fatphobia after the cut cw]

eight is a really interesting character--much more so than the writers intended him to be, tbh--and it's a real shame that both the authors' racism and the fandom's behavior drove me away from getting invested in him for so long.

the racism i was just like 'wow this is beyond me to even begin to unpack at this point in time. jesus.' but also. the entire fandom using their love for them as a reason to make endless rabid hate posts about your fave, in many of which they fantasize about 'slitting open the fat bastard's belly and gutting him like a pig,' and getting dozens of notes for it will put you off a character a little bit. just slightly 🤏

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

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Part 25

"So… what now?" Angel asked as Demie shoveled the last few lettuce leaves into his mouth. "You wanna just go home?" 

Demie slumped back in his seat, looking out of the windshield at the diner. He turned the camera over and over in his hands. "Which road are we on?" He asked. 

"WV-2." 

Demie turned and looked out the passenger window. He seemed pretty deep in thought, but like he was conflicted about something. 

"Y'know," he said after a little while, "if we turn around and keep on 2, up through Point Pleasant, we could be in Wayne National Forest in about forty minutes." 

"Isn't that in Ohio?" 

"Yeah." Demie left it at that. 

"I thought you wouldn't like Point Pleasant, with the whole Mothman thing," Angel said. 

"I'm not saying we stop in Point Pleasant," Demie said tersely. "I'm saying we just drive through it to Wayne. I don't wanna go home right now, and Wayne Forest is like… really pretty and shit." 

"Okay, okay," Angel said, putting his hands up. "I gotcha, no need to get heated." Going to a national park with Demie actually sounded pretty idyllic. Angel didn't really get out into the wilderness much - his parents had worked all day every day, including Christmas, so they never had time for vacations. He'd been camping a few times, at the insistence of an ex-boyfriend, and while he had hated the mosquitoes and the lack of running water, there had definitely been something very intimate about sharing a tent with someone under the open sky. 

Demie reminded him a bit of that boyfriend - they were both bearded white guys who were really into making their own food and who were lowkey hipsters. But that ex had turned out to be an asshole who thought that 'free love' meant that he could cheat without consequences. 

Angel wasn't sure if Demie was like that. He didn't know what Demie's philosophy on love and sex was, and he didn't want to pry. He was, after all, supposed to be a friend, not a lover. But he hoped, on the off chance that anything did happen, that satyrs were monogamous. 

As Angel pulled out of the parking lot, Demie rolled down his window and hung his arm off the side of the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Angel could see him lean back against the seat and close his eyes. He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled in a loud whoosh. 

"Feeling any better?" Angel asked. 

"Yeah, I…" Demie rubbed one of his horns, seemingly trying to piece together his thoughts. "It sounds fuckin' lame but I get these, like, panic attacks sometimes when I leave Billy Brook." 

"Doesn't sound lame at all," Angel said. "I sometimes get panic attacks when I go out into the country. I get it, y'know. I'm an outsider out here and it's scary being in a place that you aren't sure is homophobic or racist or whatever." 

"No offense, dude, but sucking dick isn't the same as not being human," Demie grumbled. 

Angel frowned. He did take offense to that, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to. He supposed Demie was right - he had no idea how it felt to live being mistaken for a literal monster. Still, he didn't like the way Demie had said it. 

"So, do you go up to Ohio a lot?" Angel said, switching subjects. He didn't really like hearing Demie talk about homosexuality. He had it in his head that he could eventually change Demie's mind on the subject, but being trapped in a car for an hour didn't feel like the right time to attempt to do so. 

"Yeah, sometimes," Demie replied. "Most of my cousins live up in Ohio." 

"How many cousins do you have?" Angel asked. 

"Mmm…" Demie shifted in his seat, pulling his hand back inside the car so he could silently count off on his fingers. 

"Like… eight first cousins?" He said. "And then maybe fifteen second and third cousins. And some more that I don't really know how they fit in, since they're half maenad." 

"What's a maenad?" 

"Crazy ladies. That's what it literally translates to, that's not an insult. They're human chicks that worship Dionysus, when we have Bacchanalias they go fucking insane. In ancient times they'd get so crazy that if someone who wasn't one of them or a satyr crashed a party, they'd tear them apart with their bare hands." 

Angel whistled. "Wow," he said. 

"Yeah. It's nuts." 

"So, you said you've got cousins who are half of whatever they are--"

"Maenads." 

"Right, maenads. You've got cousins who are half maenad, so does that mean satyrs can like… breed with humans?"

"Yeah, I mean, you kinda have to these days, unless you're cool with marrying your third cousin," Demie said. 

Angel glanced over at him. "You're kidding," he said. 

"Nope. There's only like a hundred of us in West Virginia, Kentucky, and Ohio. I think there are some more in the deep south, but it's not exactly easy to take a road trip and go see them." 

"So… wait, you said that the Bacchanalia or whatever is everyone getting drunk and having sex in the woods. Does that mean you guys go have orgies with your cousins?" 

"What, like that's any fuckin' weirder than a gay orgy or whatever," Demie said, bristling at the question. 

"What do you know about gay orgies?" Angel said, looking over at Demie for a moment. 

"Nothing, but I'm sure you're about to tell me," Demie grumbled. 

"I have never been to an orgy in my life, gay or otherwise." 

"Really?" Demie sounded genuinely surprised. "I would've thought… I dunno…" 

"What? You would've thought what?" 

"I dunno, you're just like… a really good looking guy. I would've thought you'd be going to, like… a bunch of sex clubs or something. No homo, though." 

Angel knew he probably shouldn't be flattered by that, but he kind of was anyways. He wasn't sure if the conversation had answered his question about monogamy, though. Not that he had asked it aloud or anything. It did raise another question as to whether or not Demie had ever committed incest, however. That wasn't something he particularly wanted to think about. 

Fortunately, it was Demie's turn to change the subject now. 

"Hey, what kind of music do you have?" He asked. "No offense but I don't really like The Cure." 

"Some offense taken, but I'll forgive your lack of tastes. Here," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening up his music app. "Knock yourself out." 

Demie took the phone, holding it delicately, like he was afraid he was going to accidentally crush it. "What happened to your screen?" He asked. 

"Dropped it walking up the stairs," Angel replied. He didn't want to bring up how Demie's brother had responded to his DM. Even if it had been a positive interaction, he wasn't sure if he should bring up Marius at all. The subject seemed to be a bit of a tricky one for Demie, and he didn't want to make it seem like he was stalking his family. "I need to get it fixed, but for now just be careful touching the screen and it'll be fine." 

Demie was quiet for a bit as he scrolled through Angel's music collection. He held the phone awkwardly, holding it in his left hand and using his right index finger to scroll and tap. It was like watching an old man try to use a smartphone. 

"You listen to Queen?" Demie said after a minute. 

"Of course. Why, do you like them?" 

"Fuck yeah, they're amazing." 

"Huh. Sorry, I didn't expect that from you. Since Freddy Mercury was gay and all." 

"I'm not a homophobe, you know," Demie said, that bristly tone back in his voice. He didn't dwell on that thought for long, though, as he hit play. 

Angel had expected him to pull up Bohemian Rhapsody - that was the song everyone defaulted to for Queen - but instead what started playing over the car speakers was The Prophet's Song. It was a good song, in his opinion, but it was one of those album fillers that people never talked about. 

They sat in silence through the guitar intro, and when Freddy began singing, Demie did so as well, clearly knowing the lyrics from memory. His voice was much deeper than Freddy's, being a thick, deep baritone, but it provided a counter melody to Freddy's voice that gave Angel shivvers. 

There was the blast from the guitar as the time signature changed, and Demie lifted his hands and began to air guitar. It wasn't the kind of air guitar Angel was used to - it wasn't big and flashy, and Demie's fingers moved as if he were actually playing the chords. It was more like he just really, really wished he had a guitar in his hands. 

Demie continued singing along, his voice swelling and filling the car. Angel got a bit of that same feeling he'd had watching Bacchus in concert - that massive flood of emotion that washed over his whole body. This wasn't as angry and violent as Bacchus had made him feel, though, instead making him feel powerful and epic, like the main character of some fantasy film. He still felt horny, though. 

Angel wasn't usually the kind of guy to sing in the car, but the energy radiating off Demie was infectious. He couldn't help it. He opened his mouth and began singing along as well. His voice was out of key and he stumbled over the words - he hadn't sung his high school and didn't really pay attention to the song when he normally listened to it - but he still did his best to meet the high notes. 

Somehow, Angel managed to make it through all eight and a half minutes of the song, trading off on the round parts with Demie (which were made a lot easier by virtue of having another person in the car to sing them). When the song finally ended, Angel let out a manic shout, shaking his head and shoulders, which had tensed up over the course of the song. 

Demie jumped. "Sorry," he murmured sheepishly. "Got carried away." 

"No, dude, that's fine, oh my God," Angel said. "Don't ever apologize for singing around me, holy shit. I fucking love your voice, man." 

"Ah… thanks," Demie muttered, sinking lower in his seat. 

"Holy shit, that was epic," Angel said. He was out of breath and had started sweating and he didn't even care. "Dude, bring up Bohemian Rhapsody, I'm sure you'd absolutely kill that song." 

"Y-yeah, sure…" Demie said as he fumbled with the phone. They spent the rest of the drive singing along to Queen, though none of the songs really filled the car with the same energy as the first one.