#so here's me adding more sad gay boys to my growing collection

[secretagent9]

uh oh

[my-darling-boy]

im wondering if you think that edward brittain and geoffrey thurlow were lovers. because i know the movie implied that perhaps there was something more there, bu from reading the book as well as 'letters from a lost generation' i didnt get that impression. just wondering your thoughts!

Right okay I’m about to InfoDumpᵀᴹ because the love Geoffrey and Edward had is one of the main things that got me into learning about WWI years ago!!! So allow me to shed some light on these boys specifically!

So firstly, Geoffrey Thurlow was inserted swiftly into Edward Brittain’s life and the two got on INSTANTLY in early 1915 after Edward was commissioned to the Sherwood Foresters. For a long time, Victor Richardson had been Edward’s trusted friend, as of course they knew each other from their Uppingham days, but it’s apparent in Testament of Youth, Letters From a Lost Generation, and the other works by the family’s historian Mark Bostridge, that Geoffrey and Edward became VERY close VERY fast. And while it could be written off as a friendship..... there is a lot of evidence that, even ignoring my own conjectures, is hard to dispute the fact that their relationship was more than friendship, even if it never became sexual or explicitly physical.

On top of the two becoming quickly inseparable, they also frequented expression of their desire to be with one another while the other was away, Thurlow often sending Edward very affectionate and borderline romantic letters and postcards on a whim, even sending him one rather Cryptic postcard on Valentine’s Day one year. The two insisted on doing many activities together, and many found them a perfect fit, Geoffrey a rather dreamy, expressive, and emotional young man, while Edward was practically the opposite; it’s suggested that they adored each other so much due to their personalities complimenting the other’s quite well: Edward was able to provide Geoffrey with reassurance and That Officerly Gay Protectiveness, while Geoffrey’s understanding and soft demeanor provided an open window for Edward to share his insecurities when he couldn’t show them to the other men. And while it could be said that Edward was more hesitant to be with Geoffrey in such a manner, even if Geoffrey felt no personal conflict, the two wanted to be very, very personal.

Both boys stayed connected regularly, no matter where they were, through intimate correspondence. As I mentioned, a good majority of their letters involve either one of them, but specially Geoffrey, longing poetically to be out in nature with the other or wishing they were together, but not at present, not wanting the other to be in harm’s way. A lot of Geoffrey’s letters to Edward, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, are signed “Him that thou knowest thine” or just “thine”. Of course this means “yours” or “you who know that I am yours”. And while this sort of thing, at least in my latter wording, was not an uncommon expression between men at this time, it’s..... the first way it’s worded that surprises me. For lack of a more eloquent explanation, it’s Gay as Hell to be THAT poetic to your new soldier friend, even for 1910s standards. One might ask why he simply wouldn’t just write “yours” instead of adding the special style, and making the extra effort to imply “not only am I yours, but you know as well as I do that I’m yours”. One might even ask if it was to refer to a special meeting, or inside romantic reference, such as the way in which Roland and Vera signed their own letters to each other, “au revoir”. Literally one letter from Thurlow to Edward simply ends with “In Life, in Death, Yours”.

There were also several letters marked “private” sent to the Brittain residence from Geoffrey in the span between 1915 to 1916 when Geoffrey would have occasionally been on leave, and could write whatever he damned well pleased to Edward without fear of the military censors poking around. What makes this crucial evidence to support they were having homosexual correspondence is the fact that Vera burnt the private letters before she died to protect the boys’ wishes to keep them private, if not by Edward’s direct request for her to do so, something which by itself doesn’t seem so odd given the fact letters were burnt all the time for a number of reasons, but is especially compelling given the fact other evidence makes a strong case that they were together. What was contained in those letters is lost to history, but they shouldn’t be confused with the letters taken off the censors which later may have began the domino effect to Edward’s untimely death, as that was in 1918, over a year after the death of Geoffrey, and were about different homosexual matters with other ranks at the time.

Additionally: while Edward’s reaction to Geoffrey’s death is argued not to have been as strong as his response was to, say, Victor’s death, as support for the fact he didn’t actually care much for Thurlow, he wrote to Vera “I have been afraid for him for so long and yet now that he is gone it is so very hard—that prince among men with so fine an appreciation of all that was worth appreciating and so ideal a method of expression . . . Always a splendid friend with a splendid heart and a man who won’t be forgotten by you or me however long or short a time we may live. Dear child, there is no more to say; we have lost almost all there was to lose . . .” In my own mind, this letter is just the tip of the iceberg to how he felt. It’s clear that Geoffrey’s death had a greater toll on him in the long run, while Victor’s death seemed to affect him immediately. I can only assume this is due in part to Edward being so emotionally invested in Geoffrey versus Victor, and that Victor’s death evoked an immediate and present sadness, while Geoffrey’s was so difficult to handle, he couldn’t think but to react in a collected but sorrowful manner, one I feel was meant to conceal just how heartbroken he was, as though he was worried if he showed as much outward devastation as he showed for Victor, he feared one may speculate why he held so much sadness for Geoffrey...as though he was afraid people knew what was between them.

Geoffrey’s death seemed to CRUSH Edward, leading him down this path of dark despair and depression following his passing, and it lead to a lot of misdirected tension between he and his sister at times, and he subsequently turned far more reserved, uncommunicative, and apathetic than ever before. I’d even go so far as to say that Edward might have felt guilty about his own relations with Geoffrey after he died, possibly believing he could have done more to be closer with him, or felt guilt in having distanced himself from him in some way later in 1917. And after such events, he showed more distaste for the war, more lack of emotion towards his own life and its worth, and his letters often took a downhearted turn towards the end.

When he died, Geoffrey’s letter, the last one he sent to Edward in 1917, was found in his breast pocket, and I would assume this to be over his heart. It ends by saying “Till we meet again, Here or in the Hereafter,” and it’s speculated he carried this ever since the day Geoffrey died, and, most defintely, died with it close to his heart.

By my own conjecture, I say that Edward felt that he was both conscious of and without objection to his homosexuality, most likely because it was suggested in private schools at the time (take Evelyn Waugh’s comments on being interested in boys at boarding school as a phase that one grows out of) that it was a passing curiosity, and that such interests would diminish when one reached adulthood. I felt that he did romantically love Geoffrey, even if it never had the opportunity to become sexual or physically intimate. And because our own understanding of homosexuality did not exist at the time for him to have any model from which to reference comprehension of his own sexuality, I believe, that like most of his queer contemporaries, he had a rather ambiguous—near procrastinating—outlook on his own sexual orientation and relationship status, along with his view concerning his future life and possible wife.

The war created a near diversion from having to consider the possibility of being with a woman, and he could instead allow to let his homosexuality subconsciously flourish while being in the presence of so many men, and allow his romantic love for Geoffrey to remain raw and intimate without having to confront the implications such a future would hold for him socially, all due to the war being the only thing on his present mind. And furthermore, I firmly believe that Geoffrey held a deep admiration for him: he looked up to him as well as loved him. Though he was training to be a priest, he seems to express no distaste—rather the opposite, based on his letters to Edward—for flirtatious relations between men, and remains such a gentle and deeply poetic figure to Edward I have only seen reflected in that of homosexual bonds. In my opinion, being gay myself, and with having delved into scattered studies of male affection in earlier centuries, they were in love. It’s a story I so often encounter between men of their class in this era, specifically during the war.

I will also admit that, for some reason, from standing afar, the recollection by itself of what information is told to us about Edward and Geoffrey is rather.... timid...in some instances amid the background of Vera and Roland, of Malta and France. And the ones provided alone from most books are merely the “friendly” letters. The ones I’m sure we would really like to see were lost on Geoffrey’s side and burned on Edward’s side, and what others remain are held in private facilities and university archives, and only available in brief mentions online. However, looking closely, reading sections purely between the two boys, isolating only their letters, their language, and even digging further into works written from Mark Bostridge and other minor historians piecing together dots not having previously been connected, what love they shared feels warm and strong, if not simultaneously distant and foggy at times: such is the way the world remembers homosexuals unfortunately.

These boys never got the oppertunity to be with each other in the way we would like to see historic gay people, the way we swoon over the way Maurice and Clive or Alec were together in Maurice for instance. Geoffrey and Edward were in the middle of war, and there’s both so much poor documentation on homosexuals and so little chance in the chaos to a have a ditch-lectures-to-go-on-a-motorbike-ride-into-a-meadow relationship we expect to see, compared to other circumstances where it would obviate the way they felt about each other. But because of the war, it made it even harder to progress gay relationships due to combat, death, anxiety, and just a general lack of space and oppertunity to be with a man all the time without someone seeing.

I later discovered a while back this historian’s articles about the lives and intertwining of Edward and Geoffrey and they are packed with a brilliant compilation of sources and their own take on the relationship, which I was quite excited to have the pleasure of reading, for we share very similar viewpoints on the matter and even caught onto hints and details during our own reading of the sources no other readers seemed to talk about!

Edward’s || Geoffrey’s

What fragments which are left to us, if we understand just how forcibly hidden life had to be for these men, letters marked “private” and passing remarks of desiring to walk among trees with someone special speak of a louder and more profound story buried deep beneath them. It’s important to take into account that many of the known gay relationships we have record of today are not as well documented as Oscar Wilde. Sometimes, the only record we have of their love lost to time is held in the way it’s held here, in the signing of “Thine”.

I can only hope now that since they could not hold each other in life, that in death, they could finally be together.

Anyway, there’s my Novel, thanks for the ask!

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

A Fragile Hope

hermione granger/george weasley

~2.4k

“So are you collecting Weasleys, then?”

Hermione doesn’t look up from the protection charm she’s building into the iron scrollwork of the new Hogwarts gate. “Hmm?”

George doesn’t look up either; he’s working on one of the gateposts, charming the winged boar to leap from the pillar and attack when activated. “This…” He makes a frustrated noise. “Us working together out here. Are you looking for an addition to your Weasley collection?”

For a long moment she just stares at the gate, unseeing. Then George says, “You had Ron.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. Anyone with eyeballs knows she and Ron had been a couple. They’d been holding hands at the Battle of Hogwarts, casting jinxes without letting go of one another, clinging to one another when Hagrid placed what they’d thought was Harry’s dead body on the flagstones of the courtyard. She pushes the images aside, redoubles her efforts on the gate. She’s good at protection charms. She’d kept Ron and Harry alive all those months of wandering. Scarred and broken, but alive.

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by George’s voice. “And I know you snogged my sister a few times, back when--what was it, your fifth year?”

Hermione goes still at that. It isn’t a secret, not exactly. Ron knows, and Harry. But they don’t talk about it, and they didn’t really back then, either. “I haven’t kissed you.” The unspoken yet hangs in the air between them, heavy. Hermione brushes it aside, saying, “How did you know about that?”

George snorts. “It’s always been easy to get Ginny to talk. Not for just anyone, of course, but Fred--” He stops, staring into the distance. “Well, anyway, we knew just how to get to Ginny,” he finishes, the enthusiasm falling away.

Hermione almost sighs, but she doesn’t want him to think it has anything to do with his mention of Fred, so she keeps quiet. “It was never about collecting Weasleys,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Or settling for one because I couldn’t have another--kissing Ginny because Ron was too clueless to notice me. Even back then I knew Ginny and Harry belonged together. I knew they’d grow old together, surrounded by flocks of red-headed children. But she was...pretty. And clever. I wanted to kiss her, and she wanted to kiss me, and it was…” The smile on her face is faraway and brushed with sadness. “It was nice. We were never in love, at least not in the way you might be thinking. I’ve always loved Ginny, the way I’ve always loved all of you Weasleys. Harry too. You’re all part of my--” Here she gestures, trying to explain with her hands what her mouth is having trouble saying, but she’s waving at the gate, not at George. She pulls a face, then goes on. “You’re part of my circle. Me and Ginny, we were friends. We still are. We just happen to be friends who used to, on occasion, make out.”

They haven’t looked at each other once since they got to the gates to work, but Hermione can almost feel his desire to ask more questions. So she fills in some of the empty space between them. “You know I was in love with Ron. I still am, in my way. But…” She does sigh this time, long and drawn out. Her voice quavers, just the tiniest bit. “Things fall apart. Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Hermione, I’m--”

“It’s alright,” she says before he can apologize. “I’m alright.” She laughs, shaky and strained. “I’m not pining for Ron, George. He and I were mostly a disaster. I’m just thinking about…” She feels the Hogwarts grounds behind her, both the old and full of memories and the new bits being rebuilt. A tear trickles down her cheek; she absently wipes it away. “Just thinking about lost things,” she finishes.

*

“Why not Charlie? Or is he next?”

Hermione closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to either cry or laugh. “I’m not collecting Weasleys, George.” She nibbles on a biscuit from the plate between them. “Besides, I’m not exactly his type. I’m lacking something he’s looking for.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively, then winks.

George nearly chokes on his tea. “How did you know that? I mean, the family knows he’s gay, but we don’t really talk about it. It’s just the way things are.”

Amusement replaces her exasperation. “Maybe I didn’t grow up with him, but I’ve spent a little time with him since I started at Hogwarts. He’s not exactly subtle.”

When she sees look of puzzlement on George’s face she has to bite back a giggle. “He’s not?”

“Not remotely. He’s a terrible flirt.”

“He is?”

Hermione gives in. “Sometimes you’re so like Harry and Ron. Honestly, pay attention to things once in awhile!” she says with a laugh.

He shakes his head, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

*

“Why do you keep coming back to me, Hermione?”

They’re at Hogwarts again, this time adding their defenses to those already present at the main doors. Hermione tucks her wand up the sleeve of her robes and turns to give George a look.

“I’m just an ordinary guy. I wasn’t good at school--I’m sure you’ve seen my OWL results, and you know I never finished my NEWTs. I don’t do anything important for the world. I own a joke shop. You--you could--”

Her incredulous look stops him short.

“I’ve never known anyone better at charms. And all those things you and Fred made, that you invented--they may be jokes, but they’re brilliant. You know how to follow through--you got an idea, did the research, tested and then tested again until you had the result you were looking for. You’re an inventor, and you’ve got a head bursting with knowledge and ideas. I don’t care about test scores.”

It’s his turn to look incredulous.

She laughs. “Alright, so I do care about test scores. But they aren’t everything.”

For a moment he laughs with her, but then his face falls. Looking away he says, “Fred was always better.”

“No!” It comes out louder than she’d intended and several of the other pairs working nearby turn to look at them curiously. “No,” she says again. She’s still agitated but she keeps her voice low. “That isn’t what--” She takes a breath. “This isn’t a time for you to talk bad about yourself, George. I’m trying to convince you that I’m not a collector of red-headed idiots.”

“Don’t call Ginny an idiot!” He gives her a half-hearted smile.

Hermione raises an eyebrow. “She’s going to marry the Boy Who Lived. By choice. They’re made for each other, but she’s walking into trouble with that one and you know it. He can’t help but blunder headlong into every disaster that crosses his path. I think there’s at least a little bit of idiot in that.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” he says. “And I’ll give you Ron. He let you go, didn’t he?”

“It was--” She stops, narrowing her eyes at him. “Don’t change the subject.”

“You saw that, then?” His lips twist in an almost smile.

“I’m clever.”

Suddenly intense, he says, “You are! And that’s why I don’t understand…” He makes a vague gesture that seems to encapsulate all of him. “Why me?” His eyes plead with her, begging her to help him to see.

It’s too much. She closes her eyes and turns her face to the sun, letting the warmth sink into her skin. Hogwarts has always been a place of restoration, a place she can settle into and feel whole; it’s taken some time, but it’s finally starting to feel that way again.

After a minute or two she turns back to George; her eyes must be overflowing with her irritation because he takes a hesitant step back. “Why do I have to keep defending myself, George? I don’t have to rationalize my decisions. They’re my decisions.” She pokes him in the chest and he’s so startled he almost trips trying to back away from her. But she presses. “Why are you here, George Weasley?”

George opens and closes his mouth a few times. He looks like a goldfish in a bowl; if not for her frustration she might have laughed at his ridiculous face. Instead she just looks at him, arms across her chest, waiting for his answer.

But he doesn’t seem to have one.

In that moment everything extra falls away; he’s just a broken boy, confused and hurting. She takes one of his hands in both of hers. She doesn’t have any words, but hopefully this is enough.

No, she has words. She’s just not sure they’re the right words.

You don’t look at me and see a know-it-all schoolgirl, she wants to say. You don’t see the one who always has to be right, the one who lives to please her teachers. You see me. Hermione Granger. You make me laugh when I’m sad. You understand when I need to be quiet. You don’t try to fill the silences with extra sounds.

Standing there, holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes, she thinks, You have written your name on my heart. But that is far too big to thrust at him in this fragile moment, so she tucks it away. Holding his hand will have to be enough.

*

“You don’t want me, Hermione.” She wants to reach out to him, to reassure him, but she holds herself still. He’s staring at the sky; she wonders if he sees the stars or if he’s too lost to notice.

A bout of muffled laughter erupts from the Burrow, unintentionally mocking George’s words. In unspoken agreement they take a few slow steps into the darkness of the garden, until the sounds of mirth behind them fade to a soft murmur.

George glances over his shoulder, the distant glow from the house behind them momentarily shines in his eyes. After a moment he looks back to the sky. “Half of me...half of me died with my brother,” he says, a small catch in his voice. “These past months, since he’s been gone...I’m only half a person. You deserve better than half a person.”

She looks up at the stars too. So far away, they keep shining for time out of mind. Even the ones that have already given their lives in a final flash of brilliance, becoming stardust, still shine.

“But I’m not whole either, George. The war, the horcruxes, they took pieces of me that--it’s like your ear. Some things can’t grow back.” She takes a steadying breath. “Did anyone ever tell you about my parents?”

“Your parents?”

“I sent them away. I didn’t want anyone to hurt them to get to me. Or have them just be collateral damage. But I didn’t just...before I sent them away I…” She presses the back of her hand to her mouth to contain the sob that’s trying to bubble out. “I modified their memories,” she whispers. “I erased myself from their lives. Because they were safer without a daughter.”

George turns to her, eyes wide. She answers his question before he can ask, saying, “I found them as soon as I could, and they’re fine. Things were a bit confusing for awhile--they couldn’t understand why they’d suddenly desired an extended holiday in Australia--but it turned out alright. They don’t remember forgetting me. But every time I look at them I remember them smiling at me--and then asking my name. Sometimes I think that hurt worse than Bellatrix’s torture.” She shudders, hugging her arms to her chest.

“It’s not the same, George. I know that. But aren’t we both a bit broken? Together...maybe together we make...well, one messed up human being. Messed up, but...maybe whole. And maybe we can be happy.”

She offers him a tiny, teary smile. “Shouldn’t we at least try to be happy? To grab on tight to even a sliver of hope? If we didn’t fight the war for that, I don’t know what it was all for.”

She bites her lower lip, then reaches out a hand to him, palm up. Inviting him to take a step. A leap of faith.

“I’m not who I was before, Hermione.”

“I--” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” He searches her eyes, and he must see what he’s looking for because he breathes out something that sounds like relief. “I’m not who I was before, and I don’t think I ever will be again. With Fred gone…” He shrugs. “It’s like losing a limb. You can adapt to life without it, even get a new one, but no matter what you do you’re fundamentally changed.”

Something cracks in her chest. She lets her hand fall to her side.

“Wait,” he says, taking her hand and pulling her towards him until their clasped hands are resting on his chest. His palm is rough and warm, permanently calloused from so many years holding a broomstick, and she can feel the rapid beating of his heart. “I’m different, yeah. But Fred would smack a bludger straight at me if he could see me like this. I don’t want to wallow, Hermione. I want to hold onto…” His voice fades into the darkness, and she smiles softly.

“Hope?” she finishes for him.

“Hope,” he repeats. “And maybe…” He takes a shuffling step forward, and now the only space between them is occupied by their intertwined hands. “And maybe you. If you’ll let me.”

Her already racing heart skips a beat.

Had she ever noticed the tingle of starlight before this moment? Is it the chill of the spring night making her shiver, or is it something else?

With her free hand she reaches up to cup his jaw, her thumb lightly brushing against his cheekbone. “I think I’d like that,” she says, and somehow manages to let only the slightest quaver come through in her voice.

He presses her palm to his chest then puts both arms around her, pulling her even closer. “Hermione.” It’s almost a plea.

“Yes,” she breathes, and then she rises up on her toes to press her lips to his.

[max-is-tired]

Absolutely Smitten (PJO AU)

Pairing: Moxiety

Characters: Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders

Words: 2.584

Warnings: someone gets stabbed, fainting, swearing, tell me if I need to tag more!

Notes: Holy fucking shit this is finally done. I’ve had this in the works since early December I believe? It was meant to be a short thing and then it became... this *wild Italian gesticulating* 

Nonetheless, I’m very proud of how it turned out!! This is heavily inspired by @really-sleep-deprived-nerd ‘s and @moon-scribs pjo AU, which you can find here!! Go take a look, it’s really good and the whole gang is included!

Hit me up if you want to be added to the taglist and let me know if you liked this, reblogs, comments and asks are always very welcome and much appreciated!

Read on AO3!!   Buy me a Coffee!!

Between the two, Patton is the first one to fall.

Surprisingly, it takes him a while to notice. It’s no love at first sight, this one. There are no fireworks, no lightning strike, no metaphorical angels singing in Patton’s head the first time he meets Virgil.

There’s just something quiet, something soft, a want to protect and cherish the son of Hades is very familiar with.

Because Virgil looks so sad, lonely, so uncomfortable between his own siblings and the other campers.

Patton takes one look at the son of Aphrodite and decides, come hell or high water, that he’s going to become his best friend.

Patton barrels into Virgil’s life like an overexcited puppy, dutifully following him everywhere and always coming back when Virgil tries to get him to leave him alone -never with harsh words because, as much as the son of Hades’ behavior may baffle Virgil, he can’t find it in himself to actually make an effort to hurt him.

Virgil is very annoyed, very confused and mildly afraid. But that doesn’t stop him from begrudgingly following Patton when asked -in his defense, the boy’s puppy dog eyes are very difficult to say no to.

While it is true that “love at first sight” may not be the best expression to describe their relationship, the realization itself surely hits Patton like a ton of bricks.

It happens suddenly, in the blink of an eye. One moment they’re talking, enjoying some relaxing time in Hades’ cabin. Then Patton throws in a pun, without even thinking about it, and suddenly Virgil is giggling merrily on the bed, eyes twinkling in amusement as he tries -and fails- to hide his smile behind his hand.

Oh, is the only coherent thing Patton’s mind is able to formulate, all of his other thoughts drowned by the thunderous beating of his heart and the blood rushing in his veins.

Because Virgil is so, so beautiful, messy and fluffy dark locks falling over his eyes and that shy smile has absolutely no business making Patton’s insides flip like that-

Oh, gods. He’s screwed.

For Virgil, there’s no big realization, no sudden “oh shit I’m gay-” moment. One day, he simply looks at Patton -Patton, his best friend. Patton, the first to ever believe in him. Patton, with his endless enthusiasm and a smile that easily outshines the morning sun- and just thinks “yeah, I wouldn’t mind spending my whole life with him”, something warm and fuzzy blooming in his chest.

Somehow, that line of thought doesn’t scare him as much as one would think. There’s no sudden anxiety, no rush of what-ifs cluttering his brain until he can’t think straight anymore -pun absolutely not intended. On the contrary, it makes him smile, a quiet sort of happiness dancing in his heart.

Because it’s Patton, and for Virgil falling for him feels like the most natural thing in the world.

The whole camp knows, of course. It’s clear as a day for them, how much those two care for each other. They see it in stolen glances, in fingers brushing not-so-casually, in friendly touches and pats in the back lingering even when there’s no reason to.

Everyone sees it but those two, of course. There are bets going on all around camp, about who will break first and finally make the first move.

Also Logan may or may not be three seconds away from slapping some sense into Patton next time he comes gushing to him about Virgil’s stunning smile or cute laugh -it amuses Roman to no end, to see the usually calm and collected child of Athena completely lose it as soon as the son of Hades is out of earshot.

“I might not understand feelings but -pardon my crude language- those two are dense as fuck hOW IN THE NAME OF ATHENA HAVEN’T THEY FIGURED IT OUT YET I SWEAR I AM GOING TO HIT THEM BOTH WITH A BOOK IF THEY DON’T WORK THEIR SHIT OUT SOON-”

Roman has never laughed as much as when Logan went on an hour-long rant about their two friends’ foolishness, to be honest.

If you went and asked anyone on camp how they thought Virgil and Patton would finally get together, they’d probably answer with some cute, fluffy scenario, something so adorable your teeth would probably start rotting -aside from Logan, who would go on a very long, very detailed rant about his masterplan to trap the two in a closet until they figure shit out and stop making him lose his mind with their obliviousness.

Nobody could have predicted, however, how it really happened.

Nobody could have predicted the camp being attacked by a horde of monsters.

Nobody could have predicted the screams, the fear, blood and golden dust alike covering the ground as the battle wears on.

But most of all, nobody could have predicted Virgil frantically pushing Patton away, a dagger piercing into his stomach instead of the son of Hades’ back. For a moment -a single, fleeting moment in the chaos of the battle- time seems to stop completely, silence falling as Virgil’s trembling hands move to brush over the growing red stain on his shirt.

Then, he crumbles to the ground, Patton desperately screaming his name from the top of his lungs.

Something old and powerful rushes through his veins, and under the feet of every monster the earth. Opens. Wide.

The first thing Virgil sees when he comes to is the ceiling of the infirmary, before immediately shutting his eyes because ouch someone turn down the lights right the fuck now-

He tries to cover his face with his hand, only to discover something is keeping it down. Virgil moves to sit up as much as he can and turns his head a little to the side, vision still a little fuzzy, his gaze immediately falling on a familiar figure curled on a chair beside his bed, fingers interlocked with his even in his sleep.

“He never left your side, you know,” a voice murmurs from behind the two, startling Virgil. The son of Aphrodite turns around, eyes falling on Roman’s figure approaching the bed.

“Princey, please stop trying to give me a heart attack,” he groans, flopping back onto the mattress with a huff.

“Only when you stop giving us a heart attack every chance you get,” the son of Apollo counters, sitting on another empty chair, “you scared us a lot, V. Patton was inconsolable for days.”

Virgil sighs, turning around to look at his friend, still curled up to his side and sleeping soundly. Looking more closely, Virgil can easily spot the other’s disheveled appearance, from his crumpled clothes and messy hair to the dark bags under his eyes and the tear tracks on his cheeks. He looks like an exhausted, grieving mess. But Patton’s alive, chest moving steadily up and down as he rests, and Virgil knows that, if given the choice, he would jump into that dagger’s path all over again.

Then, Roman’s words register properly into his mind. “Wait, what do you mean days?” he asks, moving to sit up again, “how much time has passed exactly?”

“Stop moving so much, Surly Temple,” Roman chides, gently pushing the other back down on the bed, “you were unconscious for a week. Your injuries were really bad, you almost didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” is all Virgil manages to say, mind reeling as he tries to come to terms with his all-too-near encounter with death, “I’m… sorry?”

“No, you aren’t,” Roman counters, shaking his head, “and don’t even try to deny it, you’re so gone for that boy you would fight all the gods themselves for him.”

Virgil opens his mouth to retort, more than ready to defend his honor, but promptly closes it again when he realizes he would, in fact, challenge Zeus himself to a fistfight for Patton’s safety and happiness.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbles instead, lips scrunching into a pout.

“I know,” Roman grins, clearly smug, “now, I’d love to stay and hear more about how right I am-”

“Yeah, you wish,” Virgil scoffs, chuckling.

“-but I think that’ll have to wait,” Roman finishes, completely ignoring Virgil’s interruption, “our sleeping beauty is waking up, and I believe you two hopeless gays have some things to talk about.”

“Wha-” Virgil starts, confused, before a movement to his left stops him right on his tracks. Gaze shifting automatically to the curled figure on his side, Virgil’s eyes widen as he watches Patton start to stir, eyes scrunching and mouth settling into a little frown. It’s quite adorable, actually- goddamnit Virgil this is not the time to be a useless gay.

“Princey wait, you can’t-” the son of Aphrodite hisses, turning back towards Roman only to realize -to his dismay- that while he was busy having a mini gay crisis, the son of Apollo had merrily strolled out of the infirmary, leaving the poor demigod to fend for himself.

Quietly panicking on the inside, Virgil can’t do anything more but stare as Patton slowly wakes up, chocolate brown eyes still fuzzy with sleep. The boy lets out a huge yawn, clearly still half asleep with his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose, and stretches his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied groan when he hears a quiet but distinct pop.

That’s, of course, when Patton’s gaze falls on Virgil, very much awake and looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Dumbfounded, he stares, blinking owlishly at the other as his brain tries to register what exactly he’s seeing.

Then Patton lets out a sudden shout, throwing himself onto Virgil to drag him into the biggest hug the son of Aphrodite has ever received.

“Virgil!” Patton wails, tears already streaming down his face, “Gods above, you’re awake! You’re okay!”

“Hey Pat,” Virgil says, a faint smile appearing on his face as he returns the hugs as much as he can -he may have slept for a whole ass week, but he still feels exhausted as fuck.

“Don’t you dare do that ever again!” Patton exclaims, hands grabbing onto Virgil’s shoulders as he moves back to look at him, “Never again, got it?!”

“Pat,” Virgil sighs, looking away, “Pat, I- you know I can’t promise that.”

“But why?!” Patton asks, distraught, “I don’t want you to die, V! I just- I can’t even think about it, it just-” sobbing, the son of Hades crumbles into Virgil’s arms, forehead onto the other’s chest, “every- every time I close my eyes I see you on the ground, covered in all that blood- I don’t want to see that ever again!”

“Patton,” Virgil calls, voice soft and gentle as he cradles the other to his chest, “Patton, I can’t promise you that I'll never do it again because I know all too well I would never be able to keep that vow, most of all if it means you’ll be safe from harm’s way.”

Patton shakes his head and lets out a strangled sob at Virgil’s words, his grip on the son of Aphrodite’s shirt tightening even more.

“But,” Virgil keeps going, hand softly stroking his friend’s back in comfort, “what I can promise you is that, doesn’t matter what happens or how desperate the situation is, I’ll always, always come back to you.”

Sniffling, Patton looks up at him, eyes red and puffy as he searches Virgil’s face for any hint of lie or deception.

“Do you… do you really mean it?” he asks, voice small but hopeful. Virgil smiles, nodding his head, and that’s all the confirmation Patton seems to need before his hands are of the other’s cheeks, something akin to determination suddenly burning in his gaze.

“Pat? What’s-” Virgil tries to ask, blushing slightly under the other's scrutiny, but gets interrupted halfway through by a pair of lips suddenly covering his.

Patton is kissing him.

Patton -Patton Medina, son of Hades, his best friend, his fucking crush- is kissing him.

Virgil's brain -as soon as he realizes what is actually happening- short-circuits on the spot, eyes wide as dinner plates as his thoughts become an absolute mess of oh my gods oh my gods ohmygodswhat- and general gay panic.

The kiss is very short, Patton drawing away a few seconds later, but Virgil feels like an eternity has passed. He keeps staring at Patton, blinking owlishly at him with his mouth slightly open in surprise, mind drawing a complete, absolute blank -which is, of course, a totally normal reaction for a child of the goddess of fucking Love to have when their crush kisses them, goddamnit Virgil get a fucking grip for once-

“Sorry, I-” Patton mumbles, looking away, “I acted on impulse, I didn’t want- I mean, I wanted to but- I should have asked-”

“Pat, no-!” Virgil exclaims when the other starts to move away, grabbing onto his arm on instinct, “I mean- it’s okay, really.”

“It- It is?” Patton asks, looking at him with careful hope in his eyes. Virgil gulps, heart beating wildly in his chest as he forces himself to maintain eye contact.

“Y- Yeah, I-” he takes in a slow, steadying breath, trying to will his cheeks to stop burning so much and failing miserably, “I really liked it, actually.”

Patton blinks at him words registering into his head as a smile starts to spread onto his face. “Really?”

Virgil nods, his lips curling into a little, shy smile and that’s all the confirmation Patton needs, his expression breaking into a wide grin as he tackles the other into a hug, a bewildered laugh escaping his lips.

Virgil immediately returns the hug, finding himself laughing alongside Patton, giddy with happiness.

“So, can I call you my boyfriend now?” Patton asks, eyes sparkling with delight as he looks up at Virgil -and gods if that vision doesn’t make Virgil’s heart do funny things in his chest, something so warm and fond seeping into his expression without him even noticing.

“Sounds pretty cool,” he says, his face muscles aching from how much he’s smiling. Patton laughs, a sound so beautiful Virgil is pretty sure not even the Muses themselves would be able to replicate, and shuffles until he’s basically sitting on Virgil’s lap, eyes locking onto the other’s.

“I really want to kiss you again right now,” he murmurs, eyes half closed as he starts to slowly lean in.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Virgil answers, closing the distance between them.

They kiss for what feels like ages, giggling like school children and sharing sweet smiles and totally smitten looks, the world around them vanishing until there’s just them, and nothing else matters.

Enveloped as they are in themselves, none of them notices the barely muffled squeal coming from the doorway, Roman standing there bouncing on his toes as he takes in the two lovebirds cuddling on the bed.

Trying to be as silent as he can -which is probably an unnecessary caution since he’s pretty sure Zeus himself could make lightning fall from the sky and the two would be none the wiser, but it’s still of a child of the Big Three and a charm speak user we’re talking about so Roman is not about to take any chances here, thank you very much- the son of Apollo slowly closes the door, before throwing his hands in the air in silent cheer and merrily strolling towards Athena’s cabin.

Looks like Logan owes him twenty dollars.

[rewrite-the-wrongs]

introductions / howdy, pardner

My first short story was about a fishboy and his human best friend. They battled a mutant piranha (whose name I think may have been Mutant Piranha, such was the monumental daring of my creative endeavor) and his army, who were out to destroy a mountain that held a whole planet together. The boys won singlehandedly, because scale was apparently a bit of a mystery to me.

This was the second grade. My teacher--who held me every day as I cried for weeks, confused and miserable and stranded in the throes of my parents’ divorce--understood before I did that I create to a ploddingly slow and steady drumbeat. A sentence is always so much more in my head than I’m able to let out, at first; I have to pore over it again and again, fleshing and flourishing (and often correcting) it, the same way I often have to reread paragraphs or pages or whole books to truly capture their meaning. In a word processor, this back-and-forth is as easily said as it is done; on double-wide ruled paper with dashed-line handwriting guides, the task is magnitudes more time-consuming, especially for somebody as messy as I am. So, while nearly everybody else played at recess on the sandlot and the jungle gym around us, a select few stragglers laid our reading folders on our laps and finished our stories.

My villain, that dastardly Mutant Piranha, found himself in prison at the story’s close. Awaiting trial, I guess; I never ventured that far ahead, seeing the big fishy bastard for a coward. “When no one was looking, he stabbed himself.” That’s the last line, stuck in my memory, not for its own sake, but for my poor teacher’s horrified face as she read my final draft there on the playground.

A mom volunteered to type up the class’ stories and get them printed and bound. For years afterward I reread that collection, always proud to have written the second-longest piece therein. I felt the weight of the pages, inhaled the tiny but acrid breeze that came from rapidly leafing through them. Knew it was a whole smattering of worlds inside, that one of those worlds was wholly mine, and I had the power to show it to people however I wished. Yes, I thought, I want this.

*

I’ve been introduced to writing many times over, by many people. Don’t get me wrong--I nightowled the first several chapters to many half-baked novel concepts all through my youth. But teachers have a way of showing a thing to you from new angles.

The first person to impact me as such was a high school teacher who was essentially given carte-blanche to construct a creative writing workshop in the English curriculum. The first semester was structured--you practiced poems, short fiction, humor and essay writing, drama, the gamut. Every semester after, the carte-blanche was passed on: A single assignment due a week, each a single draft of a poem or a minimum of two pages’ worth of prose. Forty-five minutes a day to work, and of course free time at home. By the time I graduated, I’d finagled my schedule such that I was spending two periods a day in the computer lab, and several hours after school every day working the literary arts magazine before I went home to get the rest of my homework out of the way and write some more..

My next big influence came in the form of  a pair of writers who taught fiction at my university, a married couple. One had me print stories and literally, physically cut them up section-by-section as a method of reworking chronologies. Told me stories happened like engines or clocks or programs--pieces that meshed differently depending on how they were put together, rules that held each other in place. The other showed boundless confidence in me, listened happily to some older students who recommended I be brought on board for a national arts mag. They both encouraged me toward grad school, but toward the end of my junior year I began to stumble, and by senior year I was, to be frank, a drunken asshole. Time I could be bothered to set aside for writing began to dwindle. I limped through the editorship with the help of my extremely talented, utterly more-than-worthy successor--and come to think of it, I’ve never truly thanked her. Maybe I’ll send her that message, now that I’m feeling more myself.

*

On feeling more myself:

That drunken rage was brought on by a myriad list of factors, the primary ones being 1) I am the child of recovering alcoholics, and our inherited family trauma runs deep, 2) An assault that will likely be mentioned no further from hereon in, as I have reached a solid level of catharsis about it, 3) Some toxic-ass relationship issues, and 4) I was a massive egg and had no idea (or, really, I had some idea, just not the language or understanding or even the proper empathy to eloquently and effectively explore it).

I had a recent relapse with drinking, technically--a mimosa at Christmas breakfast at my partner’s parents’ home--but I’m not honestly sure I can call it a legitimate relapse. I’m not in any official self-help group, I’ve never engaged in the twelve steps or a professional rehabilitation. I had a very wonderful therapist for a few years but reached a point at which I could not pay her any longer and we parted ways--I miss her dearly, as she truly became my friend and confidante; she was the first person I came out to, and very well-equipped to handle it, lucky for me--but I’m still on behavioral medication. That tiny smidgen of alcohol pushed my antidepressants right out of my brain, and I became terribly anxious and angry and sad all at once, and briefly lashed out during a conversation with my partner behind closed doors. Not nearly the lashing out I’ve released in the now-distant past--more on that maybe-never, but who knows, as I am obviously a chronic over-sharer.

Frankly, I don’t deserve my partner. She endured my past abuses, told me to my face I had to be better, and found it in herself to wait for me to grow. She’s endlessly and tirelessly supportive of me. She sat with me to help me maintain the nerve to start this blog tonight. I came out to her as a trans woman just under a year ago, now, and I’m happier than ever, and we communicate better than ever. Our relationship is, bar-none, the healthiest and stablest and happiest I’ve ever been in.

So, naturally, I apologized fairly quickly at Christmas, and continuing where I’d left off at two and a half years, decided I’m still solid without booze.

If we’re all being honest, though (and I’m doing my best to be one hundred percent honest, here, though I will absolutely be censoring names because no shit), I still smoke way too much fuckin’ weed. High as balls, right now. 420 blaze it, all day erryday, bruh. That self-medicated ADHD life. I should be on Adderall and not antidepressants, probably, but it’s been a while since an appointment and psychiatrists are expensive, so I’m at where I’m at for now. Sativas help a lot. It helps with the dysphoria, too.

I don’t have a legal diagnosis for gender dysphoria, but tell that to my extreme urge to both be in and have a vagina. I’m making little changes--my hair, an outfit at a time, no longer policing how I walk or run or how much emphasis I put on S sounds. If I manage to come out to my parents sometime soon--and it feels like that moment is closer every day--maybe I’ll tell y’all my real, full chosen name. For right now, call me Easy.

*

Anyhow. My goals here are pretty simple:

1) Share words, both those by people I like/admire/sometimes know! and occasionally words I’ve made that I like. See the above screenshot from my notes app. Steal some words if you want, but if you manage to make money off some of mine, holler at ya gurl’s Venmo, yeah?

2) Discuss words, how they work, and how we create them, use them, engage with them, and ultimately make art of them. I am not a professional linguist, but I went to undergrad for creative writing, so, hey, I’ll have opinions and do my best to back them up with ideas from people smarter than I am.

3) Books! Read them, revisit them, quote them, talk about them, sometimes maybe even review them, if I’m feeling particularly bold. No writer can exist in a vacuum, and any writer who insists they don’t like to read is either a) dyslexic and prefers audiobooks or b) in serious need of switching to a communications major (no shade, but also definitely a little shade @corporate journalism).

5) I added this last, but I feel it’s less important than 4 and does not deserve bookend status, and I am verbose but incredibly lazy, so here I am, fucking with the system. Anyway: Art! Music! Video games! I fucking love them. I’ll talk about them, sometimes, too. Maybe I’ll finally do some of the ekphrastic work I’ve felt rattling around in my brain for a while now. Jade Cocoon 2′s Water Wormhole Forest, looking right the fuck at you.

6) Ah, shit, I did it again. Oh well. Last-but-not-last: This is obviously, in some ways, a diary, or a massive personal essay. I will sometimes discuss people, places, or experiences that have informed my work just the same as other people’s art has.

4) Be an unabashed and open Trans woman. TERFs, transphobes, ill-informed biological essentialists not permitted. Come at me and my girldick and prepare to be dunked on and subsequently shown the door via a swift and painful steel-toed kick in the ass. Everybody who doesn’t suck, if I screw up on any matter of socio-ethics or respect for diversity, please feel free to correct me.

*

Punk’s dead, but we’re a generation of motherfucking necromancers. Be gay, do crime, fight the patriarchy, and fart when you gotta. May the Great Old Ones select you to ascend to a higher plane and learn the terrible truths of existence.

Much love--

Easy

[rainbow-squirrels-7]

!!ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD!! Since I did it last year with Infinity War and now that I’ve seen Endgame twice here are my ramblings:

But before we begin apparently I accidentally predicted Endgame’s title during my IW ramblings and then completely forgot about it...

-so like that friggin beginning tho poor Clint like the entire movie. Agreeing with a favorite YouTube movie reviewer of mine, this was really Clint’s shining movie despite his uh- downward turn for a bit there -but on the bright side I’m glad his older kids’ names are canon now; like legit I thought those (Cooper and Lila) were made up by the fanfictioneers. Maybe they were and the writers were like ‘huh okay less work for us- yoink’ -then Nebula and Stark playing table football that was adorable. The shiny paper reminded me of that one Chris Hemsworth gif you know the one of him making a face at his reflection? -and heck yes Carol coming in hot to save the day what a legend -woohoo go get Thanos time -and he’s just in a frickin farm in a T-shirt (a T-SHIRT?!?) collecting some fruits and starting a new YouTube cooking channel -“what’s up half of the universe today we’re making weird bumpy fruit stew” -but heck yeah Thor cut off that guy’s head -and then just like whoa five years later. I usually can’t stand time jumps but it’s alright. It really gives a perspective of ‘yeah the world isn’t better with half its population. Everyone’s so sad’ -good job of Steve starting a therapy group tho even if he doesn’t take his own advice -I can’t believe a rat saved Scott talk about lucky -unless that rat was actually Loki -just sayin -and the bike kid: “wouldn’t you like to know weatherboy” -I forget how old Cassie was in Antman and the Wasp but +5 years to that I guess. She looks a bit too old to me but what do I know. I’m very glad she didn’t disappear though cuz I love Scott very much and I don’t want him to go through that -tbh Scott saved everyone cuz he had the time travel idea in the first place. I love an optimistic boy -UHBUHH I HAVENT TALKED ABOUT CAROL’S HAIRCUT YET UM HECK YEAH -it’s very good I’m very gay -anyway -I liked Nebula’s prominence in this movie she’s growing on me but of course it doesn’t take a lot on account of me loving robots (cyborgs?) so much -getting the band back together! -baby Morgan Stark/Potts was Very Good -ohmygod Thor -so chub -I was annoyed being without beefy Thor the first time, but rewatching it though I thought his Look was maybe not only reflecting his depression (cuz yeah) but maybe mythological Thor? Like I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall but maybe in actual Norse myth Thor was (well, actually a redhead) that chub/beef combo but he did have the fluffier beard that MCU Thor had this time. Idk, like I said- spaghetti -Valkyrie’s back! Love her -they call her that though? Isn’t that what she is- like her job? Does she not have a name? Could have sworn it was Brunhilda or something -and Korg and the sharp bug guy are back too! Love them -friggin playing Fortnite -jokes aside though I do love that deep look into Thor’s guilt throughout the whole movie. Like he thought killing Thanos would just make everything better but it didn’t and just couldn’t deal and would rather drink to forget -Clint’s guilt was also interesting, like showing that ‘oh god he could really go there, he could get this bad given the circumstance’ -just Blade Runner-ing all around Tokyo -I haven’t seen Blade Runner but it has neon lights and rain right? -but yeah I do like the “the Snap took away good people and bad people but like it could have just took bad people and since it didn’t I’ll have to instead” -sad boy -he was very uh ‘Magnus rushes in’ if you will, during this movie. Not caring for a lot of it if he lived or died cuz he’d lost so much -god he was good in this movie -anyway -I also called the time travel:

-it still doesn’t completely make sense to me though? Like time travel is confusing enough but adding in a multiverse just makes it even more so -I loved the revisiting the old movies! -low key wanted an Age of Ultron revisit so we could have OMG we could have seen Pietro again -still on the #bringbackpietromaximoff train guys -but anyway we could have seen some good Wanda scenes and also my boy Vision again -but it did make more sense to get the three in NY at the same time -it was real cool to see the bald wizard lady (Minerva from TAZ Amnesty) defending the wizard building during 2012 Avengers- like that is so believable and now we can watch 2012 Avengers and be like “oh hey the wizards were there” -“that is America’s a**” I love how much Scott hero-worships Steve like we saw that in Civil War and yes it’s so funny and I love it its great -Steve vs Steve fight?? Great -“I can do this all day.” “Yeah yeah I know.” -And again, we can totally watch 2012 Avengers again and be like ‘yes meeting with Secretary Pierce and the other Shield guys- this is totally believable, it’s exactly what would have happened we just didn’t see it.’ -the elevator scene! I thought for sure Steve was gonna do the “now before we begin does anyone want to get out” but the “hail hydra” was just as good -“they’re hydra but we don’t know that yet” “they Look like bad guys!!” -and I guess Loki using the Tesseract to escape during that scene is setup for a... tv show? He’s gonna be wreaking havoc through time and space I guess?? Glad he’s back though -anyway revisiting more movies -friggin Guardians 1 -Quill singing Come and Get Your Love really badly cuz all we heard was the actual song and OhmyGOD that was hilarious -I’m glad Rhodey and Nebula got on a team cuz they can be prosthetic buddies -but did Nebula just not tell Clint and Nat that one of them would have to die for the Soul Stone? Or did they know and just not wanna talk about it till it came up? -TBH I though the ‘lose someone you love for the stone’ requirement would have been filled by both Clint and Nat already cuz Clint could have been like “um my dude do you even know how much I’ve lost already??” -apparently not though -Nat’s hair was great for the time travel parts I liked the red fade to white -though it was a sad and intense moment with Clint and Nat deciding who of them had to die it was also sweet cuz you can see how much they care for each other -and I was- well not glad but I really wanted Clint to see his family again -not that The Avengers weren’t his family -that friggin line “did she have family?” “Yeah. Us.” GOD -and then there’s that whole rigamarole with double Nebulas and oh Gamora’s back too -again time travel/the whole multiverse thing apparently doesn’t make sense to me so I’m just gonna gloss over it as much as I can until I can get more into it later -anyway the other time travel to the 1950s! -cool callback to Winter Soldier like you could see Zola going into the bunker -like So many people were there at the Camp Lehigh (idk if that’s how it’s spelled) like Everybody was there -good good moments with Tony and his dad -I thought it would have been cool for Tony to have given his dad the inspiration for his own name but oh well. Maybe that wouldn’t have even worked with time travel and all -Steve’s prank call to Hank Pym that was funny “um the box is glowing” -but oh geez the scene where Steve finds Peggy oh god when he goes in the room with her name on the door my roommate and I were watching it together the first time I saw it and both of us went “ohhhhhhh oh nooooooo” -cuz like that’s the first time he’s seen her since he went in the ice! Or at least seen her how he remembers and not old in Civil War hhhhhhhh GOD -I think seeing her there was a factor in his decision later but I’ll get to that later this is a long heck movie -oh and the OG human Jarvis showed up! I like him, I only saw season 1 of Peggy’s show but I remember liking him a lot -but yeah back to the present unless- well I’m sure I missed something -OH FRICK THOR’S BIT -I can’t Believe they went back to The Dark World -tbh I actually like The Dark World I think it’s a good movie but it’s not universally liked -callback to the scene with Loki tossing the cup in the air ahaha that one was always good -so if they had Rocket’s pokey device during that movie the whole plot of that movie could have been avoided? -anyway um Frigga?? What a queen. Literally -I loved “I was raised by witches I can see with more than my eyes” -she’s really what Thor needed there but god the “she dies today” poor boy -she’s so good though -I loved that ‘measure of a hero is being who you are not who you’re supposed to be’ Yes -and the “I’m still worthy!!!!” Thor needed a win -“eat a salad!” -Now back to the present -Stark-Tech can apparently channel Infinity Stones? And doesn’t need a special heart of a dying star and giant dwarfs to forge a special gauntlet um okay -“what do I have flowing through my veins right now?” “Cheese whiz?” -Bruce is so good though so strong I loved the “I was made for this” -so sweet when Laura called Clint! Yes! Everyone’s really back! -and double Nebula just Had to ruin everything tho -before I get into the final battle- I wonder how much of the time travel scenes were reused from old footage and how much was reshoots with the same actors/costumes/sets? -anyway -um rude blowing up the compound -and god the water scenes were so stressful the first time. Water/specifically-about-to-drown scenes always freak me out. Also trapped under ice and squished under something scenes -Clint finding the gauntlet and getting away from Thanos’ cronies! Every time anyone was running with the gauntlet all I could think of was that one goof from TAZ Balance in Petals to the Metal- Taako’s “Grab the Gauntlet and don’t look back” friggin

-also when Steve, Thor, and Tony all go to confront Thanos who is waiting for them, there’s a specific song playing in the background: https://youtu.be/H_9mnO_NOjk?t=120 (it starts at around 2:00) and you’ll hear this series of deep bell sounds? For the life of me- that specific sound sounds SO FAMILIAR and I can’t friggin place it. I can’t decide if it just reminds me of the Wind Dance song that plays in TAZ Balance whenever the Hunger shows up (which is fitting tbh)? Or if it sounds like some boss battle music that I can’t place? Maybe from Pokémon or Mystery Dungeon? I just can’t remember. It sounds real cool tho -but uh yeah UM -STEVE!! WORTHY!!!! -I mean we all be knowing but! -such a cool scene. I started clapping the first time I watched and others in the theatre joined in -not as cool as when Vision lifted the hammer but I’m biased -but things look dark at this point and I can’t remember if it’s at this part or one one next but there’s this real cool wide shot, this real nice tableau of Steve on a hill or something and this light behind him as he faces Thanos’ army and yeah it just looks real good. Like a good computer background I’d like to have or a poster -but yeah then! -“ON YOUR LEFT!” -Yay!!! Portals open and ‘oh yeah! Everyone’s back now! We have friends to help us fight!’ -gave me some good TAZ Balance episode 68 vibes. Could have called for a cool Lup-esque speech tho from Steve since he’s so good at that- “You see this? This is scary. But we can do this.” -EXCEPT -now we reach the part of my rambling where it turns into somewhat of a rant -because I’M annoyed but only for a specific reason that won’t affect the average moviegoer since Apparently not everyone’s a fan... -cuz Literally the only person who doesn’t show up -is my boy Vision -I mean Yes -I Know he was one of the people who died before Thanos snapped -but my hopes were Way Way Up that he’d come back somehow -and UHHH APPARENTLY I WILL JUST HAVE TO BE DISAPPOINTED -everyone Else came back??? Why not my boy?? -he wasn’t even mentioned despite being So Important in IW -except vaguely when Wanda pulled a real Taako in Balance episode 67 “You f**king took everything from me!!!” -she could have took out Thanos on her own for sure like he had to call in the big guns just to stop her from doing just that -strongest Avenger heck yeah -and Carol came too! -friggin Star Wars Episode 8-ing up in here shooting through Thanos’ spaceship that was So Cool -and the Girl Squad! Girl Squad! part!!!! Yes!!!!! So good!!! Protec small Peter! -somewhere, Nat smiled -Spider-Man’s instakill that was great -I loved the ‘pass the gauntlet’ part though -when Clint handed it off to T’Challa, T’Challa called his name and that was good cuz callback to Civil War when Clint said “we haven’t met yet. I’m Clint.” And T’Challa was like “I don’t care”. He does care now! Lol! -Carol just friggin Beast mode Thanos can’t even touch her he had to pluck the Power Stone from the gauntlet to even knock her back! We stan! A legend! -and oof Tony to Stephen Strange “14 million and one we win? Is this it?” “If I tell you it won’t be” -cuz oof -it really was a good ending for Tony though -he started it all way friggin back in 2008 -and the “I am Iron Man” Yes -and also I think it was in Age of Ultron that part when Tony was talking to Fury and it was like “I saw them all dead and that wasn’t even the worst of it” “the worst was that you didn’t” -so it’s very fitting and so so good -lining up with and going against Howard’s earlier “the greater good rarely outweighed my personal interest” and proving that Tony really was so heroic -so like it’s sad but it’s fitting and not like an unsatisfying end for his character -and it’s not like he won’t be friggin mentioned ever again or anything he’s friggin Iron Man he’s already in the new Spider-Man trailer -(no shade at all in the ‘not begin mentioned at all’ category...) -anyway oh wait -oh god Peter Parker tear my heart out again sad boy he’s so good at making us sad when he’s sad about Tony -yeah anyway again -loved the “proof that Tony Stark has a heart” disc from the first movie that was good -oh and so like the camera is moving through all the different groups of people on the dock and moving towards the house -(just an interlude but CAROL IN A SUIT UM YES) -there’s a shot of some random kid! And I didn’t know who it was until I was leaving the theatre and another guy heard me and my dad talking and he told us! It’s the kid from Iron Man 3! Now That was a nice throwback -but yeah then it gets into the I guess TAZ Balance Rebuilding Year-esque scenes -which were all Very good! Good family scenes; Hope and Scott and Cassie, and T’Challa and Shuri and their mom, and that scene with Wanda and Clint was very good BUT -would it have been So Hard to do just a small scene of maybe somewhere in Wakanda like Shuri helping to rebuild Vision with all that vibranium while Wanda was there watching? Maybe even from his old body?? Would that have been so hard?? Just Something to give me hope?? -why are all these movies So Against Wanda being happy??? -but yeah almost to the end -more time travel with Steve going to return the stones! I’m glad Sam and Bucky got more lines I love them both -but what I really loved was that Steve got his Magnus ending -not in a “how does Magnus die” way but a “how does Steve live” way -love me a good happy ending esp if it involves dancing like that’s All he wanted -like I said earlier, I think just seeing Peggy again was enough for Steve to be like ‘oh it doesn’t matter if I can’t live without war action (a la what Ultron said in AoU) i do really want that life with Peggy and I can do that now’ -it was just Good -but it does raise a few time travel questions -like if Our Steve went back to the 1940s (he did go to the 40s right?) does that mean that there’s another Steve still stuck in the ice? I would say there can only be one Steve at a time but that was proven wrong in the very same movie. There’s gonna be something to do with multiverse in the next Spider-Man which will of course just make everything all the more confusing but still... I guess if I don’t think about it too much it’s not such a big deal -it was also very fitting that there weren’t any after credits scenes. It reminded me of the end of TAZ Balance with the announcer (Junior) not announcing the final episode since he said in 68 that we’d have to see what happens in the last one together. Idk but I liked that -and I liked the signatures of all the OG avengers! That was like them signing off on this huge thing they did, which is really what happened! This huge friggin 12 year thing! -wait was that what the 12 meant all along?? The 12%, the 12 minuets? We may never know -but anyway back to the most important part to me -my boy Vision

-I was so naive  

-like I’ve been told there’s gonna be a tv show or something but like -come on -you could have given me Something -I feel like Griffin in the Fallout 4 Monster Factory after Roachie despawned “nothing?!? You leave me nothing!?!” -so like all in all it was a good movie a Really Good movie I liked it a lot -that Time Heist- I love time travel plots. I already had some of my next DND campaign planned with time travel being a big part- I hope my players don’t think I’m stealing lol -it was very enjoyable and so so good to wrap up this huge thing and put a bow on this story arc. Which I guess can open the door for experimentation now? Which would be kinda cool -Scarlet Witch movie maybe and my dreams can come true??? I can be happy??? Please -I just- one little scene could have left me less disappointed and given me just a little hope but anyone who’s not in the ScarletVision boat will not be disappointed by this movie (cuz the deaths [Tony and Nat] are heroic and satisfying to me, so I’m not not satisfied by that) -it wasn’t Their movie but still. Let me complain -It really was really good though -And I guess I only get motivated to write fanfic like once a year (or whenever new ScarletVision content is in a movie though um the Vision part of that was uh nonexistent) so like my Complements fanfic is in the process of growing a fourth part so look out for that I guess -and if you’re still here reader, I hope you enjoyed my long long ramblings

-and in conclusion:

[sapphicbookclub]

Author Spotlight - Erin Jones

Today I’m excited to spotlight Erin Jones, the author of Truth Weekend. Check out her post for some great writing tips which I’m sure you’ll find useful!

Guest Post by Erin Jones: How To Write The Gayest Story In Your Heart

Though I would not recommend 2016 to my worst enemy (okay maybe one) it’s the year I hunkered down on my writing regime and in January 2017 I published my first novella, or novelette according to the ol’ Google, Truth Weekend! With equal parts sass, gay, and angst, Truth Weekend is a novelette told in vignettes about two rival women who escape for a weekend to make a college short film under the condition of sharing every secret, insecurity, and dark thought they’ve ever had. In a tale of sexuality, destruction, and truth, Skye and Rosemary discover what happens when you expose the darkest parts of yourself.

So to usher in 2018, The Year of The Queer, I wanted to break down how to write the gayest story possible in just three easy steps. Let’s go!

STEP 1: Throw out the idea that your story has to be groundbreaking, to warrant being written

So often, marginalized groups and communities are told that the only stories of ours worth telling are of the ones that paved the way. The rule breakers, the heroes, the ones that risked their lives. I appreciate those stories and they should be treated with the utmost respect and importance, but we need more. You don’t have to tell the story of the best gay that ever lived. The weight of the entire lgbt community is not solely on you.

Think about little lesbian Linda with green hair who makes pottery in her basement and is not very good at wizarding. Her story is significant if you want it to be. Bring Linda over here with her crusty clay hands and her horrendous form when slinging that wand around. She cute.

In a nutshell, dare to be horrible. Your first draft is going to be cringey, but that is what rewriting and editing is for. Sit down today, even if it’s only for thirty minutes, and write what’s true and ugly and everything that you’ve always wanted to say. Everything you’ve been scared to think. Everything you wish you could read. Its starts here.

STEP 2: Relish in queer intimacy

Oh no, this hotel room only has one bed! Gee I guess we should share it. And cuddle. AND confess our undying love.

In this gay and age, I for one am sick of subtext and our love being portrayed as merely pornographic or something that we’ll grow out of. I know, writing is a daunting task in and of itself with built in pressures and stigmas, so adding gay characters or themes may seem like even more of an anxiety parade, but I promise you there is someone who needs to get lost in your story and grand escapism is a marvelous coping mechanism.

Here’s another writing exercise: What is gay culture? Can you describe it? Give me a few examples or moments.

Last week I was riding in the car with my friend who is also bisexual and it was so nice to just cut to the chase about our feelings as two bi women. We expressed things that we may have moderated with our friends or people who aren’t bi so we don’t enforce a stereotype, because we’re constantly afraid we’re giving people the “wrong idea” about bisexuality. Then race came up and boy howdy did I have a lot to say about being black and bisexual.

See, it’s little scenes like this that I want to see in the world. You don’t have to hit your audience over the head with it. Or you can if you want to and your whole novel could take place in Pridelandia. It’s your book, dude.

Fear is going to creep in about seven times a day during the writing process and it can’t be stopped. You just have to unabashedly write the story you have in your heart no matter how vanilla or kinky. Normalization is a powerful thing.  

Wax poetic about the adorable guy at the library with wire frame glasses and obscene hands. Write about how your character can’t tell if her crush is a lesbian or just a hipster. Have an entire internal monologue or external soliloquy at a public pool about how you can’t tell if this person is flirting with you or it’s just in your head. What about a group of gay friends that have no desire to date each other? What about collecting an lgbt rainbow in the group? Or the mysterious case of someone in the friend group coming out every six months, because without even realizing it, we all seem to clump together. Just check my friend circle. It happens!

STEP 3: Be the gay you want to see in the world

If you’ve always wanted to read a story about XYZ, then write it! When you get the courage to tell people about your awesome story, there’s going to be that ass-basket that smiles and goes “Oh so it’s basically [insert popular book or movie here].” Ignore them. It’s not like that story because no one can tell your story like you. Everything on the page goes through your filter and is colored by your life experiences.

You’re not naïve if you want to write cute fluffy stories or an ideal. Not all lgbt lit has to be gritty or sad to be “realistic” or well written. It’s beyond okay if you write characters that just happen to be gay and have conflicts and successes that have nothing to do with their sexual orientation. Write about old gays, deaf gays, gays in wonderland, gays who stick their ankles in cabinets for science.

Here’s my favorite writing exercise for getting ideas in the page: Take the time to compile a list of all the things (gay and otherwise) that you love in a story visually, emotionally, and character wise.

If someone said “hey this book has xyz,” what are the things you would throw down good money to see in one place? This list could also be themes you would like to explore like: obsession, the loss of innocence, grief, preservation of youth, loneliness, the desire to escape, self-sabotage, ect. Whatever you’re interested in delving into and ripping apart.

I’ve always had a guilty pleasure for those wild teen movies where all the girls have kool-aid dyed hair and are out of their minds: stealing their weight in booze, self-piercing their everythings, burning money, and mixing Viagra with cocaine that they’ll snort at prom. But I’ve always wondered what happened to that girl and what happened to the artistic popular chick that was always at her neck with insults that’ll stick with you for the rest of your life. Thus, Truth Weekend (the novella and now the screenplay!) became the deconstruction and exploration of these strong personalities and all the complexities of your early 20s when there’s this societal push to be wise beyond our years, but also to be the ingénue. Through this I got to delve into the paranoia driven notion that you have to achieve everything right now or else you’re an unproductive failure and if you accomplish all that you’ve worked for at a later age it’s no longer as special.

To sum it up, just go balls to the wall. Throw your metaphorical word balls to the nearest wall. Or the farthest wall. And slowly work this list into your story. If you want to see it on the shelf or on the screen you have to sit down today and write.

Those are all my tips! I hope this helped or at least made you laugh. You can check out Truth Weekend here and follow my progress in writing the screenplay adaptation on my YouTube channel where I also post sketches and other writing videos.  My writing tumblr is @erinthewriter and my regular tumblr is @feelsandmermaids.

Happy Holidays, now go write!

[hurtxyouxsignal]

Tagggg

I was tagged by @lostemple to do a 20 Questions thing. So here's my beat attempt to seem interesting. Sorry for the delay and thanks for thinking of me.

Name?

Kevin

Nickname?

My mom calls me Keb. People sometimes call me Kev. In high school some folks called me K-Dog which remains utter trash.

Height?

5′8-9″ or so, 225, stocky muscular build, got some tats, got a fade haircut, I really dig sweatshirts and denim jackets and Clark's shoes--I'm adding more than necessary cuz I mean why not, it won't hurt to give you a better idea of what I look like esp since I hate posting selfies.

Sexual Orientation?

Gay. As shit. But not making a spectacle of myself cuz I don't like attention.

Nationality?

American and struggling with it currently.

Favorite fruit?

This makes me trash but I hate fruits and vegetables. Even fruits that I like are hard to eat cuz they make my lips itchy and sore, no idea why.

Favorite season?

Um, Fall is a season that holds some bad memories but the weather is great. I had a pretty recent Fall trip to Blue Ridge Parkway in NC a while back with my friend Patrick and it was beautiful. But I don't have a hard and fast fave season. I hate extreme heat and cold, though. I guess that matters.

Favorite flower?

Probably hibiscus flowers. They're pretty. Have two tattooed on my left arm.

Favorite scent?

Don't have one. A freshly showered handsome man. That's clever.

Favorite color?

Maybe dark amber. I'm partial to shades of purple, too.

Favorite animal?

Probably the caracal cat because of the cute ears and teeth. Medium-sized wild cat. Cool-looking creatures, though I'm not an expert on their life cycle or mating habits or anything.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

I like iced coffee, regardless of season, with caramel.

Favorite fictional character?

Not sure. For a while it was The Bride from Kill Bill for the way she was rocking that Bruce Lee getup and getting her vengeance. Right now, I'm not sure. I guess it is pretty telling that the main themes i guess of that move was violent retribution and even though I can't still thru most movies I watched it hundreds of time. I'm probably more angry, and have been for a lot longer, than I thought.

Number of blankets you sleep with?

Maybe two. A comforter with a soft blanket over the top of it.

Dream trip?

I guess it'd be great to take a trip to Iceland or Australia. I travel for work and I'm trying to cross off destinations here in America but I'd love to travel abroad. Amsterdam is another great one.

Blog created?

Early 2015. I don't really watch a lot of porn so I never really had an interest in Tumblr for a while but I was brought here because some people I was kind of, uh, "fact-finding" someone who (I believed at the time) wronged me around 2014-15, so I found their messy Tumblr page as a result of a Google search and in the process of being a turd and judging them I was like "oh...so it's ~not~ just porn on here" and I decided to create a blog of my own. I mean, that's a shitty rationale for stumbling upon this platform but it's not how you start, it's how you finish, and I guess it says something that I've realized that I can't just judge people based on the content they share here because it's not always reality or indicative of one's character, it's a presentation and an exchange of ideas and a collection of hobbies so whatever. I've since dropped the grudges and I guess I'm using this page for better reasons now. That's debateable, I guess.

Number of followers?

I really don't know, I'm not into social media for the popularity, though it's flattering that anyone follows or takes an interest in my ole boring ass.

Random fact?

When I was young I used to be a really artsy kid who drew a lot and loved comic books and was even in a gifted and talented program in fourth and fifth grade where they took me out of school on Fridays and I went to another school where we learned about Greek mythology and stuff. I liked this school way better than normal school.

My passion for art sort of fell by the wayside, sadly, because I got easily discouraged/frustrated when my drawings weren't good enough, I didn't have the sort of support system to encourage me, and growing up I just felt I lacked the creativity to do it for a living or pursue it beyond a hobby. We had a lot of financial concerns back then which forced me to kind of grow up fast and think about my occupational future pretty early. In high school I drew illustrations for a weekly fantasy series for the local newspaper but I never saw myself as an artist for a living, even though all my classmates thought that was my destiny as a kid, so I slowly gave up drawing. I haven't drawn anything in probably five years.

What is your favorite gif?

The sensible chuckle gif

What is your primary personal philosophy that motivates your decision making and trumps your other motivations in your decision making process?

I don't have a solidly profound, highly motivational philosophy. You know, I was having a really hard time with life around 2013-15 when I was in x-ray school and I was having a hard time getting over a boy, so I picked up a cool book on stoicism and philosophy that I saw reviewed on Life hacker. I'm horrible with quotes but one of the main takeaways I gathered from it was that "all things mortal are fragile and fleeting" and that's true, and applies to a lot, and while it's not quite YOLO it kind of resonated with me. The good things, the bad, they're all temporary.

At the time I applied it to my sadness. I wanted it gone pretty badly as that negativity was coloring the optics with which I looked at everything. It was a pretty dark time and there are still some things I'm struggling with . As I've gotten past that particular moment in my life I'm kind of focused on making sure I try to take life as it comes, practice humility, and never lose sight of the fact that everything ends. That doesn't have to be a depressing concept. If anything, it helps you appreciate things more, which is the point.

A Musical Artist that you think deserves more recognition?

Don't have one. I'll think about this more. I listen to mostly indie and screamo and angsty music and popular recognition isn't really a must so I'm not rooting for my faves to hit it big, I just dig the music. I guess that's lame of me.

Tag You’re It! 

No one is obligated to do this. If you'd like to, great. But I don't know who follows me and I know everyone has a life and shit to do and might not feel like it. So it's cool.

[sanaseva-archive]

i read ur tag about how people don't read ur evak headcanons but im new here and would love the shit out of them

sorry this took ages because it’s a lot to collect from a lot of places, but like. it’s not that they don’t read them. it’s that when i tell them they tell me to stop (probably bc it’s emotionalé :P)

but i usually send headcanons to sunny, anki and faiza!!! (and a couple of others on twitter but that was between seasons mostly lol)

read under break!!

1. pianist!isak

when isak was younger, he played the piano. he took classes, he understood the instrument, he felt the music flowing through his fingers and into the air, an echo from his very soul. he could switch it up and he could make a happy song sad.

then, people started to comment on how gay it all was. he started to panic and put the piano lid down, never to touch it again.

his father moved out, brought the piano with him, and isak never really cared. he could skateboard instead, hang out with jonas and play video games instead. jonas tried to ask once, “what’s up with you never playing the piano anymore?” but isak shuts him down easily with “it’s boring and i hate it”. they never touch on the subject again.

years later, when even and isak are out travelling, isak finds a public piano. he gravitates too it and even says something about “no, let it be, it’s not a toy, love,” but isak doesn’t care-- doesn’t listen. he hasn’t touched a piano since-- well-- since he stopped playing. he has, however, missed the piano so much. he missed the control he had. god knows he can’t sing to save his own life, but the piano? that’s something he can do.

he goes there, and does the thing, leaving even and the crowd speechless. who could’ve guessed, that the young man in trainers and snapback could do that?

even shines with pride, he hugs isak tightly when he’s finished and kisses him, and tells everyone to “look at my boyfriend!!! isn’t he fantastic? amazing? absolutely perfect?”

2. even + the balloon squad, growing up

okay so, this one was with faiza. remember the handshake in the hei briskeby video?

even was there when it became a thing. he was there for a long time. they knew each other for a long time, in fact.

so i couldn’t stop thinking about all !! the !! events !! they have shared, all the things they remember doing together, all the things they grew up doing together. such as:

at the bakkoush' it was not uncommon for many years to see the boys pretend wrestling and hugging and racing the house. when the boys were really small they used to run outside on various branches pretending to play quidditch and even could recite his favourite parts by heart and mikael too

about painting nails

imagine even and mikael and yousef painting their nails together for the first time and they spill probably on sana's favourite shirt and they're super sorry and sana is like UGH YOU CAN'T EVEN PAINT YOUR NAILS PROPERLY ALRIGHT LET ME DO IT SO YOU DON'T SPILL IT ALL OVER THE PLACE and they're like YES PLEASE SANA HELP US

faiza added:

SHE WOULD HELP THEM DO IT LIKE LOOK BOYS "THIS IS THE TRICK"

i continued

and then they can't stop showing elias and mutasim and mama and papa bakkoush their nails and they keep complimenting sana's skills like "we ruined her shirt" "were so sorry :(" "but she helped us with the nails and LOOK LOOK!!!" and mutasim is probably like "looking good bros" and mama bakkoush goes "very nice boys, ooo look at that colour even!! it really brings out your eyes" and even literally shines up and sana is like ughhhhh these boys can't do shit

about biking

imagine them biking and racing each other and then like. elias falls and scrapes his knees and it Really Hurts and the boys are like oh No and try to help him and they get Elias back home and nobody's home and Yousef is like. "Well, first we need to clean it" and Elias tries to Be Cool but his eyes sting when they help cleaning the cuts and Sana comes home and Elias is crying in the bathroom with all the boys, Muta probably tries to calm the situation but Sana is like WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER and they're like "no no he fell when we were biking" and Sana puffs out some air and takes the charge and she calls their dad to get help over the phone and then they help Elias to his bed to lie down and they're all So Concerned but by the next week they're at it again, biking down the streets because it's what they do 

If they were really young when they met imagine them learning how to bike 😭😭😭 

about harry potter nerding

(imagine that, a preteen even is sitting on his bed, his legs crossed and he tries to do magic like they do in harry potter, and he tries to magically make sure his friends are okay before he goes to bed every night, and later, when he doesn't understand why he's starting to loose interest in things and feel endlessly sad all the time, he puts a hand to his heart and whispers lumos, because once, when he was crying because someone had been mean to him, mikael tried to cheer him up by putting his hand on even's heart and said lumos with a small smile, saying that now his heart should feel lightened)

faiza added:

all the boys having / a harry potter marathon / though /those are what nights are made for

i continued:

And Even and Mikael battling about who knows the most trivia / Yousef is always the one butting in about "but that's not how it is in the books" but even just laughs and says "its a movie, they can't have everything in it" and mikael just nods enthusiastically and they both sigh and blows out a wish about how they want to be a director one day 

3. random evak headcanons

i sent this to anki, for example:

imagine when they're like 30, even blows out a sigh in the car and wishfully says something about wishing to have a motorcycle and just,,, couple of months later, isak has bought him a motorcycle and (if the license for motorcycle doesn't come with the regular driving license as it used to in Sweden in like the seventies or smth) he takes the license with even, and then they go on a trip somewhere ;nnnn;

and we’ve talked about isak’s sleeping problems too. here’s the convo:

me:

okay, but like. i can't fall asleep. so im thinking about isak not being able to fall asleep. and that makes me just Upset

anki: 

it's gotten a lot better now that he gets to sleep next to even every night. but sometimes, the thoughts still creep up on him, making it impossible for him to fall asleep and then he tosses and turns around in bed, kicking the bed linen off himself, then covers himself up again because he freezes and even wakes up from it, whispers a "can't sleep?" all groggy and isak nods, cuddles closer to even and takes a breath. one, two, three, four. tries to calm himself down. even's hands hold isak's, firmly but soft. "i'm here"  even whispers and isak breathes out again. one two three four

anki: 

and even doesn't force isak to tell him all his thoughts, if isak wanted to he'd tell him, and that makes isak calm down even more, he's getting a lil sleepier still not sleepy enough to actually fall asleep but at least he's napping a little

me:

even notices the difference immediately. isak's response time slows down, his words get bundled together before they leave his mouth, his gaze is glassy and far-away, and sometimes, it feels like he's speaking to a ghost.

even tries to do a lot of things for isak. but he knows this isn't something he just can't. fix. much like how isak can't fix /him/. but that doesn't mean he doesn't try.

he lets isak rest against his chest because the even's heartbeats makes it easier for isak to find some peace.

he lets isak gaze off mid-conversation, and easily gets him back to track when isak blinks a couple of times to find himself in the present.

he helps isak find someone to talk to-- a professional-- and he hates to see how it doesn't get any better. it's not that it's getting worse per se, but isak feels a lot worse (which makes even feel much worse) because he got his hopes up. instead he's just. a walking zombie sometimes.

one day on the weekend, even wakes up to isak softly snoring. he rolls off the bed, gently, to make some breakfast. and when he gets back to their bedroom, he can see the absolute terror in isak's eyes.

"what's wrong" he asks, and he's starting to panic.

it takes a while-- most of this part of the memory is locked behind a door in even's mind, but later when isak comes back from another doctor's appointment, he learns that it's called sleep paralysis.

"i saw monsters," isak tells him quietly, and even can see isak's hand shaking a little. "i thought i was going to die."

even doesn't know what to say. he recognises the feeling-- from the monster inside his own head that sometimes visits him and overstays its welcome. when he wakes up one day, feeling the depression slowly dissipate, he tends to think, "i thought i was going to die" too.

he holds isak tightly instead, and doesn't really say anything. but isak hugs him back tighter (but much weaker than he would've a month ago) and he knows that they'll get through this. 

and i’ve talked to both anki and sunny about pokémon go and the boy sqad so...

since even is a '97 there's no reason for him not to be completely hyped up about pokemon go. like. magnus is like lowkey, jonas is probably more with even on this and mahdi and isak are like ?? but even and jonas definitely drags them all around oslo, trying to catch the fucking digital creatures and nearly screams when a Rare appears on their nearby list.

guess who gasped when gen2 was released? even. 

guess who groaned? isak.

but it's actually quite useful, isak finds, for when even is getting restless and can't sleep. isak suggests, "let's see if there's any new pokémon, shall we?" and out they go. for half an hour, an hour-- maybe two hours late at night, just strolling and trying to get them. when they get back home, even finally manages to fall asleep, and isak is holding him tightly, muttering about "guess im not the only nerd in this relationship," before he too falls asleep.

what they’re scared of:

what even is scared of:

being alone for too long, being left, being lost at an unfamiliar place, breaking something he's gotten as a gift, forgetting important dates, losing someone he loves, baring his soul, of himself when something feels Wrong but still not really wrong at all, making mistakes

what isak is scared of:

being left, dark and small spaces, getting bad grades, Weird Insects™, hurting someone he cares about,

(spiders especially:

me: so i totally think isak would be scared of spiders and literally shriek when he sees one this summer and jumps up on a chair calling for even to come save him and even is like..... mate It's our roommate Bengt or smth

And isak is like no take it outside!!!! and then when Bengt has been let out to live its spidery life even just gently teases isak a little and isak is like no this didn't happen idk what you're talking about WHERE'S YOUR PROOF 

anki: "I'm the master of liking spiders. they're so very...... nice"

me: "especially their..... legs?"

anki: "they have like....... eight legs don't you think that's......................... A LITTLE BIT TOO MUCH"

me: "a little bit too much" is definitely said with a squeak)

and

whatever you do absolutely do not think about the squads having a movie night at evak's place and isak falls asleep on even's shoulder, and even lets him sleep there for a while, even though he notices how isak starts to drool all over him, and when the movie is over the squads fall quiet because-- wow isak really is the softest boy around even???? and even just gestures them to be quiet and carries isak over to their bed and isak wakes up a bit, asking if the movie is over and if it was any good and he's sorry he fell asleep and please tell everyone good night from me and that i love my friends

and even does that, and when he comes back to bed isak is fast asleep again and he was honestly just going to lie close to isak for a while before cleaning up the plates and bowls for snacks they've used but he falls asleep to, holding isak closely and hearing his boy's deep breathing.

when he wakes up, in the middle of the night however, isak has managed to turn the tables and he's being held by isak again. he doesn't mind, even if isak has started drooling on his neck again

about even’s first movie being about isak:

me:

do you ever think abt even making his first movie and it isn't directly about isak but it's about his /love/ for isak and when isak watches it for the first time he is a sobbing mess

anki:

also the credits just begin with "for you" without putting a name in there and isak just SOBS AND SOBS AND SOBS

evak + snowboarding

next winter even definitely takes isak out for some snowboarding but isak is definitely hopeless at it and isak can be heard muttering about "is it even normal to want to be this high up on a fucking mountain and wanting to race down this shit on a fucking snowboard"

u know when u eaten spicy food and u wake up feeling hangover the next day? (i don’t but my apparently this is a thing lmao)

one day even makes the food too spicy but isak really wants to prove him he's Tough(TM) and eats it all and tries not to complain or show he's suffering and the next day isak wakes up feeling like he's hungover because there was so much salt and seasoning and shit that his body is like. mate. water pls.even laughs as he hands isak a waterbottle.

this summer evak moment we won’t see:

one day this summer, even will wake isak up at like 9am and be like "we're going to the beach today yes we aaaaree" and isak is like, tiredly, "we are?" and even is like YEP GET UP YOU LAZY BOY and the breakfast is in the table for isak when he has finally managed to roll out of bed and when he enters the kitchen isak opens the freezer bc "it's too hot even I can't live like this" and even closes the freezer bc "we have food in there isak, please" and then they get to the beach and isak rolls out the blanket or the towel and literally slumps down and falls asleep again, only to wake up to even touches his legs with.... something??? and isak squeaks "what are you DOING" and even stops for a second before he says "you need sun protection my pale boy, or do you want to turn into Donald trump?"

and then even plays some music on his phone, probably nas bc why not, and then isak wakes up again and is like "I need water NOW im BURNING" and they race into the water laughing and tripping and then they probably kiss in the water and isak challenges even into another hold your breath under the water competition and isak is so so grumpy that he never wins that shit 

like there’s a lot? of shit i’ve shared? like ?? i can’t go through everything im sorry ;n;

this is a fkn mess, im so so so so sorry

and i’ve shared tonnes of headcanons with sunny amongst others, like. it’s impossible to mention all of them rip

also this is super not in order we’ve spoken about them?? and they’re like. sometimes in swedish and sometimes in english it’s? a mess honestly? and like. all of the above is basicaly copy paste bc im too lazy trying to make sense hahhahaa sorr,y

[swelleganza]

Tim

Hi. One of the last things Tim said before he passed was, “Let’s not make a big scene out of this.” But, well, here we are. Sorry, Tim!

I have a number of disjointed things to say, but I want to begin by reading the following poem by Frank Bidart, called “O Ruin O Haunted”:

O Ruin O Haunted restless remnant of

two bodies, two

histories you felt the unceasing

force of

but never understood,— terrified that without an

x-ray, a topography of

their souls you must repeat their lives.

***

You did not repeat their lives.

You lodged your faith in Art—

which gives us

pattern, process with the flesh

still stuck to it.

With flesh, you told yourself, pattern

is truer, subtler, less

given to the illusion seeing frees you from it.

***

Or, you did repeat their lives,—

… repeated them by inverting them.

How you hurtled yourself against, how

cunningly you failed to elude love.

***

Love is the manna

that falling

makes you see

the desert

surrounding you is a desert.

Makes you think dirt is not where you were born.

—

I wanted to start with this poem because of how it speaks to the experience of those of us who grew up in fractured family environments, and especially for those of us growing up knowing that we were different, that we could never fit in to the conventional idea of what constituted an intimate relationship.

Yes, I’m talking about queer kids here, and this poem resonates with my experience as I believe it did Tim’s, a gay boy growing up in western Kentucky with a wild creative streak, looking for some sort of outlet or escape from a stultifying, short-sighted, homophobic world.

So what did he do? He found a way out and made it to New York City, like so many thousands of us have done and continue to do, who thought that running away from the suffocating conventions of mainstream society meant having to reject every single one of its tenets, including its concept of love.

Perhaps I’m projecting too much of myself into Tim’s origin story, but I want to circle back quickly to his early years in Paducah by sharing with you a tribute one of his childhood friends posted to his online obituary:

“I am saddened to hear of Tims' passing. He was my best childhood friend, and many of my fondest memories revolve around our times together in Cub Scouts and Little League and sleep-overs at his house. I would ride my bicycle to his house after school to see the latest purple hair Troll doll he'd added to his collection, as he would catch a lot of grief from other classmates if he brought them on the school bus.. He had an imagination 2nd to none, and I knew that his gifts would be put to wonderful use some day! I miss him, but am so thankful for the brief years we shared together as friends.”

Here, we have the normative experience of Cub Scouts and Little League in tension with the purple haired Troll doll, a secret shared between two little boys, one queer and one probably not so much but cognizant and protective of how dangerous the idea of being different was for Tim.

__

But I am being too distant and analytical.

I want to tell you how much I miss Tim.

I want to tell you how he was the one person in my life who was finally able to tear down the many walls around my fortress of solitude, mistrust, and alienation once and for all.

He opened up for me a space to in which to breathe, to help him build and cultivate a garden. To rail against his never-ceasing desire to rearrange, redesign, and renovate our living space!

And what did I have to offer him? Well, first of all an opportunity to teach someone how to dress himself properly.  (I did, in some way, become his personal life-sized Ken doll.)

What did we give to each other?

An opportunity to embrace and dive into what always seemed like a giddy, joyous return to childhood. That bond with the special friend you never had to hold back in front of. It felt like a return to innocence for both of us, quite honestly, even when we’d long since been given over to experience.

And we experienced a lot in our short decade together. Much laughter, joy, happiness, and comfort, some aggravation, anger. And indescribable sadness when the cancer came back and we both realized, then had to face the fact he wasn’t going to beat it.

And somewhere in the midst of all of this, we came around to that realization expressed so beautifully in Frank Bidart’s poem: that Tim and I *had* repeated the lives or our parents by inverting them, by actually embracing true and unconditional love instead of just going through the motions.

And so we caved in and got married. We vowed to love, honor, cherish, and protect, which is something we’d been doing all along anyway. Just like that childhood friend of Tim’s who knew he needed to help shield him from the bullies on the school bus.

—

“For one human being to love another, that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks; the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.”

That’s a quote from Rilke. And of course I learned it from the liner notes of a Patti Smith album. (And because Patti Smith is ubiquitous and has to appear *everywhere* these days, why not bring her into this space too?)

__

I want to say something about preparation: It was only three months ago that Tim and I took our last vacation together. And Tim had decided a small luxury cruise off western Costa Rica was the trip we should take. He’d made the decision to forgo further treatment and to transition over to supportive care. His team of doctors and nurses at Sloan Kettering reassured us that they were going to do everything in their power to make him feel good and ready for the trip, and so they gave him blood transfusions, bags and bags of fluids, Potassium and Magnesium.

I realized then — but I understand so much more now — how Tim really did put every bit of psychic and physical energy he had into our first and only cruise ship experience. Not only did he manage an overland tour at our first port of call in Nicaragua as well as two nature walks through tropical forests, he actually seemed to garner strength from these activities. The other big activity on this trip was an early morning snorkeling excursion on a small charter boat.

And so here, finally, is one last picture I want to paint, because I need to hold on to this experience and resist the notion that Tim has passed into the realm of abstraction, that he is merely a concept or some sort of idea.

And, of course, there is a backstory:

While Tim always loved going to the beach, I discovered fairly quickly after we met that he was frightened of being in the open water. He would never venture out too far or stay in for very long. But then, on one trip to Baja, Mexico, I got him interested in the idea of snorkeling, and I taught him how to do it. It took several subsequent trips (Florida, Hawaii, Puerto Rico) but eventually he became quite adept at it, and he was not fearful — not even mindful! — of either the depth of the water or our distance from the shore. The first couple of times, though, he panicked, and I remember repeating to him over and over, ”swim to me, take my hand.”

So here we are. Together on this boat in the tropical Pacific. The charter took us around a small volcanic island ten miles from the shore, and at least five or six from our ship. There were incredible ocean swells that morning and the water was choppy at times. But it was also pure cerulean, just a shade or two deeper than the nearly cloudless sky.

I snapped a picture of Tim, and there must have been sunscreen smeared on the camera lens because it has this dreamy soft-focus quality to it. He is smiling broadly, joyous and happy, full of innocence and energy.

Moments later we’re diving into the beautiful blue water together, swimming and holding hands, floating free.

It was the art of living in action and in the moment. And I know now that *this* is the ultimate gift Tim gave to me: to live a life free of fear or hesitation.

May I never ever lose or forget it.

[blondtan]

biker!got7

PART TWO (a.u)

SEE PART ONE HERE

or’: in which dumb7 like to think they’re the new local gang and should be considered badass just because they got a bunch of bikes off ebay that were on sale and now they pretend to take beatdown requests. tip: don’t trust maknae line to be on their own. 

warnings: mentions of bars/paid violence/gangs, vulgar language, lots of crack actually 

○  | see more of my aus here |  ○ 

youngjae: 

• signature items: dentist voucher card 2 at the price of 1 for teeth whitening                              + smiley face fake earring 

• cutest biker you’ll ever meet w a smile so pure that u start to feel bad for that time you forgot to give a pencil back in 3rd grade that is the youngjae effect© • he lets little kids around the neighborhood  put cute stickers and flowers on his motorcycle and it’s the cutest thing he gets so happy when he sees a new lilly on the handle he actually has a flower chain all over the front and everyone envies him • and no the background sound you just heard wasn’t jackson screaming that little kids won’t come near him as they cling onto yj’s leg nope (that cursed honda...,,) • everyone loves him like this is certified u exist u love youngjae these are the rules but grannies are especially in love w him  • once said a bad word and the whole group panicked and put youngjae into quarantine bc they thought they were losing him to ~the plague~ • he goes to buy them bread every morning and delivers them w his bike and then in the afternoon they race each other yj with his motorcycle and the grannies w their scooters except poor so rin whose husband always goes to afternoon ‘strolls’ w it so he takes her on the back of his bike and ends up losing bc of that like 99% of the time  • sunday night it’s break from fight night bc he goes to play bingo with them and takes the rest of got7 and they are the most excited whenever someone yells bingo even tho it’s not their boy (tip: youngjae has no idea about bingo to this day) •  met the grannies at the dentist as he was getting his teeth whitened and they bonded over weird mumblings and random swallows and trying to communicate while having multiple people’s hands in their mouths at the same time and he just can’t let them go  • now he may look innocent & pure but listen up ok,,,,listen here,,,,,,,,,,he rly is •  except maybe that one time when he bumped into a stranger and didn’t apologize and jesus fucking christ it haunted him for weeks like he would decline when offered lucky charms bc he failed his #code and g o d so he’s not worthy of receiving happiness • he’s supposed to be the one who beats people up but he’s the poodle and the only infernal thing is other gangs’ desire to protect this flower man • wears fluffy socks bc he gets cold feet easily • every time a member is sad said member wakes up with a stuffed bear wearing a leather jacket next to him in bed but “no one” knows who puts them there cause stuffy’s mama didn’t raise a snitch

bambam: 

• signature items:  puppy photos to appease the gods                              + shea butter hand cream 

• the whole city knows him like they hear the word ‘bam’ and this guy pops into their heads 5 mins later the streets are deserted • cue in confused baby bam coming up the street on his bike like ‘:( where is everyone i wanted to show them my new pastel pink mickey mouse socks i bet jihyo would’ve liked them’ so he just takes polaroids of them and puts them in everyone’s mailbox as tokens of his affection • has sometimes troubles with parking his motorcycle bc he can’t rlly hold it perfectly always to park it and yugyeom just jumps out of the bushes like ‘here i come to halp worry not my small noodle man’ • the first one to reject jaebum’s “infernal poodles” idea • ”hyung do you want us to be the laughingstock of the neighborhood we can’t name ourselves infernal poodles that’s so 3rd grade let’s go for malevolent west highland white terriers” - triggered bam 2k17 while holding his pinky up bc he has #class “don’t encourage him u nuthead”

• you’d think he would stop dabbing at some point but nope he’s a professional dabber born&raised™ nearly crashed his yamaha into jackson once while dabbing and the poor guy has never been the same     • like really he would literally get his collection of gold holy crosses out and start spewing latin exorcism chants whenever dumb bam raised his hands • once dabbed in a rly shabby bar bc the beat was lit and punched this shawn michaels wannabe in the face and started a bloody (literally) fight which ended up w/ yug dragging everyone to the hospital bc he was the only one who hadn’t fought (bless his tiny bladder) • PAW patrol enthusiast made everyone dress up as the characters during halloween (he nearly passed out after channeling his inner tarzan to fight mark bc i aM GONNA BE SKYE U PIECE OF PUP POOP-) then forced them to sing the op whilst searching for roaming ghosts bc he also wanted to be ray from ghostbusters (but like ~cooler~ and on a bike)       • sneak master from bangkok hides in the shadows to take aesthetic pics of these rly hipster looking guys (like, living in the sewerage bc we don’t believe in homes hipster) smoking bc he may be soft and squishy but his insta theme is #edgyweedaddictbiker even tho he freaks out whenever someone says ‘mary’ • wanted to decorate his bike w/ some rly cute & rly glittery & not badass at all baby animals stickers but jaebum caught him and confiscated them and now bambam goes all (๑´╹‸╹`๑) whenever they’re alone in a room

• (”but hyung, they fit our aesthetic!!!” 

“how in the heavens do a bunch of black kittens represent us”

“...they mean bad luck??”) =>> jaeshook needed like 10 mins and an ear pull from jinyoung to compose himself  •  has noticed that jb lets youngjae have stickers on his motorcycle bc ‘the kids put it there’ so he tries that too but jaebum is like ‘oh yea and please tell me where do this kids find yellow glittery stickers with baby camels on them’  ‘it’s mustard goddammit hyung’)

• he’s the sacrificial lamb whenever the guys wanna get in a fight like rly they might lowkey want him to get beaten so that he’ll become T O U G H • and all he can do is stand in front of these big&buffed up men like ‘pls don’t hurt the child i can do the cooks they call me bambam bc my maple syrup pancakes are yumyum’ • insert housewife!bambam making muscly man breakfast for those big ass guys resulting in them being all friends!!amigos!!comrades!!! who are in love with bambam • bambam receiving black roses (bc red roses are for pussies) every 2 weeks from the dudes in return!!!! (also guess what’s the sole reason why nobody messes with his gang) •  always pretends that he hadn’t noticed that his instagram captions are my chemical romance lyrics added by jaebum,,, but,, he knows,, •  and now he might have welcome to the black parade saved to his phone but what jb doesn’t know won’t hurt him 

yugyeom: 

• signature items: fur turtlenecks                             +  XL skinny jeans ( the xl stands for extra leggy) • wears heavy clothes so he thinks they make him look shorter (but rly they just turn him into this cheap & memey version of slenderman bc he just can’t get the tentacle part right) • the neighborhood kids start crying whenever they see him on his bike and yj has to spend like 5 hours trying to calm them down and then 5 more to console  • but rly he’s just an overgrown puppy in need of love and when he doesn’t receive enough he just wraps his arms and legs around someone like ‘hi it me the friendly octopus may our love prevail and may you never escape our - not gay at all what are you talking about we’re bros, bro - embrace~’ • he would write these super poetic poems about love & adoration and all that mushy mushy fluffy shit and then read them to the others (insert: distressed members trying to keep at least their sexuality straight bc they sure as hell can’t do that with their bikes) but then he adds ‘bro’ at the end and the magic dissipates and everyone is reminded that they keep him around just bc he looks rly ominous in the dark + he’s tall so he keeps other gangs away •  goes home complaining to his hyungs about him just lightly pushing a bad guy to set him off and then said guy punched him in the face and he feels extremely wronged • ‘yeah i started it but he didn’t have to hit me so hard’ • usually complains at the dinner table and uses the kitchen utensils in his hand gestures and knocks some plates down and that is where he really catches those hands from mark and jinyoung • the members sometimes call him daddy long legs so at night he pretends he’s the babadook and hides in their closets just to mess with them bc he can • and after he startles them he’s like ‘why did you -hyung stop screaming it’s just me- why did you think it was ok to put the cereal on the bottom shelf you know i never notice things that are below my arms’ ((lmao he never gets an answer bc jackson always faints)) • at first he didn’t want to join the gang because that meant buying a motorcycle and he couldn’t do that bc when he was 13 his parents bought him this rly snazzy™ bike for his bday - a few months later and he couldn’t use it anymore bc he’s grown out of it and he’s been scarred ever since so now he thinks that bikes make him grow taller & he fears that one day he might crush his smol friends while stepping on them • ok but like grannies love him tho bc he’s lean, strong & can carry things =>> he’s like perfect grandson material and when he’s not around they can’t stop gushing about him and yj is on the verge of crying every time bc this is so beautiful this is what he lives for and he sometimes records them and plays the recording when he’s sad and can’t sleep • has troubles with talking back to his hyungs and sometimes gets smacked without deserving it bc jb think’s he’s being sarcastic but that’s just his voice give the boy a break • during the winters he wears this weird ass fur coat that jb got him from the same dealer and he puts it on w a serious expression before the fights and acts like he’s jon snow and sometimes does it during jy’s negociations too but always gets the references wrong and told the barman during closing time that he shall not pass ((someone save him.mp3))

[spitefulpumpkin]

Moonshine Lake; Ch.3: Summers

Mirror on AO3

Self-indulgent as hell AU fic about a boy meeting a fish creature and their unusual love story. Co-plotted with @jyagantz

Trigger Warnings: Homophobia, Bullying, Animal Cruelty, Drug Abuse, non-explicit Interspecies Sex Unbeta’d, mostly written on mobile!

It had been over a year since Jamison last saw Akande, and just like his mother wanted he was send to a doctor about that. The doctor, an old man with lots of patience and little believe in the tales of fish people living under the sea, had a simple diagnosis. "Your boy is lonely. Children often work though their hardships with play and pretend. He needs to be around his own peers more often. Then he might stop dreaming up mermaids." This was much to Camilla's dismay. She rather knew her son being brought up safe and sound within their home. After all, children can be cruel to those with a bright mind like her dear little James.

So she sent him to public school after the summer. Her fears settled in within weeks. Jamison was easily distracted, whatever the teachers talked about he learned two years before in his private lessons. He tried to connect with other kids. He remembered how he did it with Akande. Slow and friendly. But sadly he was already marked to be the weird know-it-all rich kid. His classmates would beat him up when they had a bad day, channeling their frustrations over their own problems into the weak boy and letting them out with their fists. Camilla wanted to have Jamison back at home, but Richard refused. "Let him. He needs to learn that the world is cruel. Maybe this way he will also learn how to stop being such a mimosa. After all, do you want your son to become our heir or to become some gay weirdo?"

Jamison couldn't sleep that one night. He had been playing sick for the past week. The last beating and his father's judgement was too much for his pride, he rather hid away in his room and work on fixing that old clock that used to belong to his grandfather. The boy's weak fingers brushed over his clothed arm that hid bruises and cuts. They still stung.

The night seemed awfully loud. Wind blew through the willow's leaves, cicadas already humming despite the spring just slow crawling to an end. He stepped to the window, leaving his work behind on the table. Maybe he'd feel better if he'd take a walk through the garden. For the first time in ages he slipped on light feet out of the house and felt the grass tingle his feet as he stepped outside, sitting down at the swing set. His shoulders felt heavy. It doesn't matter what he would do. He will probably be alone. Maybe he did just dream of Akande...maybe he could...

The boy spun around when he heard a noise. Leaves rattling at the bushes startled him. He mad a step back when he saw a claw break through the needles of the bushes framing the fountain. No. This can't be. "A...Akande?" The green claw followed a green arm covered in blue spots, and that followed the familiar frame of the mer, crawling from the bush and coughing. His neck fins have grown smaller and blue spots were covering his arms and cheeks like freckles, but yes, it was Akande. The mer jerked his head up and showed a toothy grin. "James!" Jamison sobbed and ran to the mer, almost throwing him to the ground again as he hugged him. Even if he was a fantasy, even if he was just make believe, it didn't matter to Jamison. He had his best friend back, and it drew the boy to tears. Akande held him as well, having grown a few inches in the past year, finally being eye to eye with the frankly pretty tall Jamison. "I missed you so much." "I missed you too." Jamison muttered and rubbed off his tears with his arm. "You...you really came back." "I promised I would, didn't I?" He reached for Jamison's wrist. "Come on! My flock is waiting!"

And Akande pulled Jamison with him, down to the stream behind the house, following against the flow towards the nearby woods. The Moonshine meadows led into the narrow woodwork and past a little patch of muddy ground to the old lake. Jamison has only been here once, and on that day he got his head dunk into the cold but surprisingly fresh water. Tonight however, the lake was a lively spot. Mers, in many sizes in all the shades of blue, green and even purple that the boy could imagine, swam around, examined the plants growing on the shore or played at the tiny waterfall that the stream made when it ended in the lake. Nervously Jamison held Akande's hand with his own two and hid a little behind him. A few of the twenty or so mer folk glanced towards them. "It's...is that your flock?" Akande nodded and patted his left shoulder twice. The curious mer returned the gesture. Slowly he led Jamison along the shore, towards a group of mer sitting on a log. They seemed to be building a nest out of grass and seaweed. One of them, a very large and bulky looking mer, covered in scars and with a dark blue back looked up and smiled as they saw Akande. There was a pat on the shoulder and in the same motion they closed their fist over their heart. "You are back, my pearl." Jamison has not expected such a soft voice to come from this large mer. In fact he hasn't even expect it to be female as it seemed. Akande returned the gesture with the fist before pulling Jamison closer. "James, this is my mother, Ade." The boy swallowed before shyly patting with a shaky hand against his shoulder. The mother seemed pleased. "Do you want to help us make a net? It's for the eggs later." Akande asked and sat down with his mother, picking up the end of the net that was still loose. Jamison carefully climbed over to sit by Akande, who's eyes lit up.

What started as something being waved off as a child's daydreams made up in his loneliness became a new routine in Jamison's life. From late spring to early fall the flock would now reside in the Moonshine Lake, fearing being in the open waters will kill more of their offspring each year. During that time the boy would visit them after school or at nighttime, so much so that he was almost there daily. The mer, while always careful and suspicious of humans, didn't dislike his presence. Akande especially tried to show Jamison how they lived their daily life. In exchange Jamison taught him and other members of the flock things about humans. Like why they have to wear clothes or why they eat something as gross as mussels. He even brought one of his old suits with him for the mer children to try on. It proved to be very small for Akande. He rather showed Jamison how they weaved the skirts they wore. Apparently they are supposed to make them look to predators like piles of floating seaweed. Akande also showed Jamison how they braid their bracelets and other jewelry.

On his eleventh birthday Jamison was gifted his own bracelet by Akande, that had a snail house on it. The boy felt flustered when given the jewelry. "I...don't think boys are supposed to wear jewelry." he hummed, remembering the taunts of his classmates when one of them got an earring. Akande, who's blue coat had slowly taken over his body, was confused by that. "Humans has strange customs when it comes to your mateship manners I've noticed. Look, I'm not going to force you to wear the shell braid, but...it's...important to me for you to have it." Jamison took the gift. And for the first time felt a strange tingle in his gut when he saw that smile on the mer's features. The year was also the first time Jamison was present when the first babies of that year hatched. A mer flock would always collect their eggs and shelter them in big nets to drag them along wherever they went. "Not all of the eggs hatch because not all of them are fertile." Ade explained to the boys once. "You can't tell from the outside. This is why there are always so many and that's why we have often many children. Only those who manage to push through survive and thrive as the next generation."

Jamison noticed how much emphasis the flock put in strength and fight. Conflicts rarely end in physical fights, but the mer sure loved to test boundaries. The moment some of the babies from last year's nest were able to see and walk, they would try to climb everything they could see. Including Jamison, who shot into the air like a beanpole after his twelfth birthday. He blamed his mother's genes, she was remarkably tall for a woman. "Father died this winter." he muttered quietly as Akande and him sat by the far end of the lake that year, watching the rest of the flock, that had shrunken significantly. "I'm sorry." Akande returned, hand twitching. "Did he have to suffer?" "He had that infection for a while. But he was too stubborn to listen to my mother's pleads." He glanced, noticing the twitch of the hand. A little voice in his head wanted that hand to reach for his own and he couldn't explain why. "We lost many as well. Almost half of our people. Most of them were not even old enough to speak yet." His voice was heavy, his head hanging. The past year had left a mark on Akande, his back and arms showed scars from a shark's bite. Jamison wanted to hug him, but stayed reserved. Fourteen and twelve years old was too young to lose someone you love. Can you ever be too old to mourn? He hoped to never find out.

Summers would come and go and Jamison would grow to become the outcast he was predestined to be. He was a good student, did remarkably well in biology and mathematics. His teachers were hopeful that the boy had a bright future ahead. If only he would stop being so foulmouthed at other students. After one too many years he decided to fight back, even if it was just with words. Sick of taunts and abuse and the sad eyes Akande always got when he saw a new bruise on Jamison's pale skin. "These children don't deserve your sympathy. If I was you I would have broken their jaws five times by now." Jamison rejected that mindset. Until he was fourteen and one of them went too far. The school boys had found the meadow. The lake was almost empty, only a few of the flock lurked under the water. The kids found the eggs floating at the surface. And as kids were, they began to play with them. The moment Akande noticed the voices, heard someone scream "How dare you, you monster!" through the water, he swam up, only to see shapes move away from the shore. He poked his head out, staying low. And saw something horrible. The children had pluck eggs from the net, smashed them on stones and stumped on them in the grass. In the distance he saw their silhouettes, screaming and laughing as they pushed around another boy. Akande knew that shock of blond hair too well.

The next time they saw each other again was at night. Jamison was messy, his eyes puffy and his knees shaky. His head was in a bind. The boys had shuffed him against a tree. His mother told the school he would never return. "Three. We lost three" Akande growled, as he sat with him, his face dark. "I should have been faster." "I should have made sure they didn't stalk me." Jamison returned and hugged his legs. His whole body felt hurt. Akande shook his head. "My mother...she sent away those who should have stated with the net. They are not welcome here anymore." "I'm sorry." Jamison muttered and began to sob, as he left sooner than he had arrived. What-ifs would haunt him for the rest of the year. He didn't have the guts to look into Akande's face anymore. He'd spent his fifteenth birthday with his mother this year. And not return.

Until next year...