#that place was a home for queer kids (in both meanings of the word) who had none

[ineffabildaddy]

on today's episode of understanding good omens through my own life:

a story about my ineffable inevitable queer teenage experience with an intense, volatile, fiercely affectionate 'friendship' that was definitely not just a friendship in retrospect.

when i was eleven, i started secondary school, and i met a girl who quickly became my best friend (i'm a trans man, and i also understood myself as a girl at the time. i still understand myself as a girl at that time). we became known as a unit because we couldn't get enough of each other, and we did absolutely everything together.

on the first day of our second year, we saw each other for the first time in several weeks because she had been away in her home country that summer. i had been counting down the seconds until she came back. when she was in the process of giving out souvenirs from her trip to all our friends, she waited until she saw i was alone and approached me. she handed me a ziploc bag full of shells and rock fragments.

"i picked these out for you at the beach," she said.

i thanked her and asked her to show me the bags of shells she'd made up for the others.

"i didn't do this for the others. i only did it for you," she responded, and walked away.

i had never felt anything like what i felt in that moment, and i haven't since. i was a lonely kid, especially before that age. what i mean to say is... no one had ever done anything just for me. no one had ever thought of me when i wasn't there; no one had ever taken the time to give me something that they had so carefully picked out; no one had ever stated with such conviction, in what was said or what was unsaid, that what they had done for me was not to be enjoyed by anyone else.

i like to remember this when i try to understand this moment in good omens:

i can't begin to comprehend what aziraphale must have felt in that moment, but remembering that day of my own life is the closest thing i've got.

mere months after that day, we started to argue. we had a huge falling out. i told her that no one on earth was capable of hurting me quite like she was (thirteen year-old me, in her own twisted way, thought that was a compliment). she told me in no uncertain terms that she couldn't stand me. we stopped talking.

a few months after that, we reconciled and we became closer than ever, but that tension, that unrest, was always lying under the surface, just waiting to gnash its teeth - and sometimes it did. these were also the years in which we were discovering our queer identities, and it took us a long time to really understand each other's journeys in that regard.

at sixteen, we both left our school and moved to a different institution till we graduated at eighteen. though we were at the same sixth form college, we just had different lives and didn't hang out anymore, though we remained on good terms. now, we text every once in a while, and we always say we'll meet up, but we never do. in october of last year, i bumped into her for the first time in maybe four years while coming home from a pavement gig. she was sitting on the doorstep of her parents' place with a roll-up cigarette. it was like no time had passed.

looking back, i can say with full confidence that i was in love with her. i do not know how else to understand our relationship. she drove me up the wall the way she did because i had never felt anything like what i felt for her for anyone else - and i haven't to this day.

even now, every time she is even mentioned in conversation, i dream about her the night following. and i still have those shells, hidden away in a wooden box i've never shown anyone; it's not too far from the shoebox that contains every note she ever passed me, every doodle she ever drew for me, every card she ever wrote me. in other words, i was permanently altered by our relationship, and her absence from my life has never diminished that. the same can naturally be said of crowley and aziraphale, to a much, much greater extent. i relive my memories of us because they help me understand many things about myself and others, and i've recently found that good omens has encouraged this.

this ended up longer than i intended but i hope you got something out of it.<3

[dust-of-embers]

Behold! My idea for what I think Crowley shall be doing post season 2:

(TLDR at the bottom)

Even though Shax moved out (presumably) the apartment is still technically owned by hell, so I feel like he would pull a few miracles to get himself a little shop (I like a little shop) where he sells plants, it’s functionally a greenhouse with a painting studio on top — Crowley also broke into the old apartment to get his stuff back, the statue from 1941, Aziraphale’s thermos, and the Mona Lisa cuz I found a post talking abt how he and da Vinci were probably besties — that just looks like Rapunzels tower, random paintings on the wall being painted over each other so many times (this part came from a fic where Crowley has a room in his apartment filled with paintings of Aziraphale, I changed it a bit but I still wanna give credit)

He spends about a month or two just wallowing, he bought the place on whickaber st (I don’t remember how to spell I’m so sorry) so he keeps running into the other shop keepers — he kinda is one now — and Maggie and Nina keep staring at him, which he is not pleased about.

He ends up adopting Muriel (kinda) as well as a fuck ton of random little kids who either have shitty parents, no parents, or just feel like hanging out and have an interest in plants (most of them neurodivergent or queer, or both). He doesn’t hide much of his snakieness around the kids who live with him (most of the second floor is dedicated to the children he’s taken in, with some dimensional stuff to make more room) mostly because they don’t find him scary, over the millennia children have always been fine with his eyes — they’re often too young to have the prejudices adults have, although that has changed in recent centuries.

He grows his hair out a bunch because I said so, and I love the bun/braid look with still hair down, it’s amazing and very gender. The plant shop is covered in vines and huge leaves — Crowley is attempting to replicate Eden by hand, also he’s been selective about how he talks to the plants, it really depends on his mood, so the plants have been getting a lot of emotional whiplash, but thankfully the kids always explain to the plants what Crowley really means and if his words were directed at the plants or another allegory for himself.

That’s as far as I’ve gotten in it, I know at some point Aziraphale is gonna come back and there shall be extra angst (there’s already a lot of angst, but this will just be a slightly different flavour of angst)

(TLDR: Crowley starts a greenhouse/paint studio/foster home and teaches kids about ducks and plants and history)

[noiselessbuck]

inspired by @sneakboots 's headcannons here are my wondla queer headcannons

to start heres ones fifth grader me thinking about:

eva eight is butch (did not know the word butch but got the vibes)

hailey is a little genderweird via having a name that could be a boy or girl's and that boy is not straight and also he's not white and ill be sticking various immigrant experience things to him

eva nine was my gender: a girl when isolated from the world in the outdoors. her gender is survival and sacrificing childhood via loosing her stuffies

eva nine and hailey have a queer platonic relationship (i also didn't know those words but i knew very much what it was)

me now, agrees w fifth grade me also some other stuff

eva eight has a strained relationship to femininity. between just inherently being butch, not being able to have kids, and being an outsider to new attica, i think she both despises and sometimes envies new attican femininity such as the tails and mood color mods etc. because they represent belonging she will never have

vs eva nine tries to fit in and that doesn't work out which is such a closeted or dont know youre queer experience

along with hailey not being white and identifying with eva nine i do now very much think eva isn't white. now this could go a few ways she's drawn with light skin and brown hair in braids that could apply to a variety of things. im aware theres the whole cloning thing but the point isn't implementation details. eva nine's story is an immigrant story is a story about being in places where you are of a minority culture. those are the real reasons i feel she is not white.

fifth grade me didn't like eva nine's forest transformation and chalked it up to the white hair, because now she in no way looked like me. i agree with that but also find it interesting because it's got a little bit of the devine feminine nature trope but also having some part of your body become transparent and slowly gain new color over time is a very queer thing- denouncing your past as not genuine and building a new self expression from the experiences you have going forwards

anyways my take is that post hair becomes transparent i think she also cuts her hair, still puts tiny braids in here and there

i think that eva nine doesn't feel a lot like a girl only some amount like a girl and then one of the cerulean kids tells her about a cerulean gender that means 'one who wanders' and she identifies as that

also- Rovender Kitt also has that same cerulean gender and he reminds eva nine that just because you wander doesn't mean you have no family, no home, no place to belong. she will always have her found family.

the other thing - re Hailey, eva nine and hailey are queerplatonic there aren't any cerulean words that really express their relationship but they are in addition to queerplatonic, found family. and ceruleans know well that family can take many shapes and is a powerful word.

[oflights]

wip snip 2.1

while i'm not technically writing this right now (i'm taking a much-needed Break this week, though expect to pick this up over the weekend), this is the fic i put on pause to write find a new place to be from. i was about 9k words into it and really do want to finish it, so i'm gearing up to start it again!

the plot of this is essentially that draco is going to lose his home (to his cousin, who he hates because he's the worst. honestly a good chunk of this fic is going to be made-up malfoys and having fun with draco in a big extended family) if he's not married with a kid born by a certain date...or if he's pregnant at the time of that date!!! he doesn't have time for option A so option B has to be what he goes with; he just needs to find a good sperm donor.

he and harry are friends and have a ~history and complicated Feelings about this alluded to here, naturally, but i don't think there's a mystery as to who the sperm donor is going to eventually be, right?

“For fuck’s sake,” Weasley says, throwing his face up towards the ceiling. “Will you just get on with it already?”

“You have no sense of gravitas or ceremony,” Draco says.

“And you treat every bit of gossip like it’s Earth-shattering, apocalyptic news!”

“Well maybe this is!” Draco counters, and before Weasley can wind up with another retort, or before Potter can force him to put a sock in it and leave off, he tosses out, “I’m having a baby!”

That does seem to land as if it’s shattered the Earth, Draco notes with some smugness. Greg inhales a chip too quickly and chokes, making Ginny pound his back while staring at Draco, wide-eyed. Weasley seems to be trying to violently suppress his own reaction, probably because it had been instinctively rude, but the result is his face turning a horrid purple color and his lips turning white as he presses them together. Blaise has done a better job of not reacting, sipping casually at his drink, but his eyes are unquestionably wider.

And Pansy and Potter both seem frozen with perfectly opposite expressions on their faces. Pansy seems delighted, gleeful with the best bit of gossip she’s presumedly heard in days. And Potter—Draco probably should have thought better of blurting that out in front of Potter, considering past circumstances, because Potter seems shell-shocked and a bit haunted, and it looks entirely too familiar.

It’s mostly for his benefit that Draco scrambles to clarify: “I mean—soon, I’m having a baby soon. Not quite yet but I’m planning for it now.” He prods at the device and keeps his gaze trained on it pointedly, not really wanting to see more reactions quite yet. He thinks Pansy is clutching at her heart. “With the help of this wonderful device.”

More stunned silence descends, and Draco isn’t as smug about it anymore.

Greg, Merlin bless him and keep him, is the one to break it, his voice a little strained from the choking. “How does that thing make a baby, then, if it’s for turkeys?”

“Well,” Draco starts gratefully, but Ginny interrupts.

“Hold off there, Draco. The how isn’t what concerns me. Why are you having a baby?” Ginny gestures at the trio of Pansy, Blaise and Weasley and adds, “I thought you were on my side! No brats necessary! We were going to be the fun, queer aunt and uncle together forever! What’s happened?”

“Oi, Gin, what am I?” Potter asks, momentarily distracted from his shock and trauma to protest being left out of something for what seems likely to be the first time in his life.

Ginny waves impatiently at him. “Oh, you’re just a DILF in waiting. But Draco—I thought we were on the same page. We’re supposed to have an alliance against these breeders!”

All three of said breeders protest loudly at that; Pansy brandishes the glass of wine again, now less full but no less of a threat to be thrown in someone’s face.

“I do value our alliance, Ginny,” Draco says, honestly meaning it. “However, I am getting to be a bit older, and as you must know, there are certain magical expectations placed on those of my line and heritage—”

“No!” Blaise suddenly gasps, forgetting to pretend to be bored by all of this for the moment. “Draco, this isn’t about the bloody house, is it?”

[imaminoccultation]

Letter 9: The People Who Have Been Guided - Revisiting the Work of OnlyLeigh

Peace be upon those who follow the right path. Which is to say, not just the Muslims: anybody who manifests the best qualities of Imam ‘Ali by being just, generous, and kind is following the right path, however imperfectly. Anybody who has had the Record revealed to them is a follower of the right path: I am inclined to believe Fred Donner when he says the Prophet’s religious community was pluralist in nature. And so, in addition to the People of the Recitation, the Uthmanic Bible recognizes three other Peoples of the Record, or Ahlul-Kitab: 

The People of the Gospel, the Nazarenes, those who follow Prophet Jesus Christ, peace be upon him (Christians);

The People of the Tawrat, those who have been guided (الذين هادوا), the children of Prophet Israel (Ya’qub), the Judaeans, the people of Prophet Musa, peace be upon him (Jews);

The Sabians, who we must discuss another day.

Fuck the state of Israel, Zionists eat shit and eat shit forever, but I’m not gonna up and pretend that anti-Semitism isn’t a problem in the Muslim world and the Arabophone world; I’m not fucking stupid. It means nothing for whether or not the Zionist occupation has the right to ethnically cleanse Palestinians and force them out of their homeland, but it’s also a fact we need to acknowledge, as Muslim anti-Semitism is also a key tool in Zionist propaganda. I want to make my stance clear on the issue before I say:

As a kid, I was the only Muslim I knew at my school. Deadass. Only Sudani I knew at my school. Deadass. Only Mahasi I knew in my whole city. Deadass. I remember one time when I was fucking ten, this Japanese kid was telling this white kid he was descended from samurai, and when I brought up that I was descended from Nubian royals (no less than that Japanese kid was a samurai descendant, anyway), the white kid was clear what he thought about that:

“Who cares?”

Yeah, living in that kind of environment does shit to you, especially if you’re also the only gay kid you know. Not that you know you’re gay: ooh, I took way too long to accept that part of myself. Thankfully, I had a portal out of the fundamentalist community I’d been trapped in by life circumstances: a window to the world beyond Orthodox Sunnism, Evangelical Christianity, and Mormon Christianity. 

YouTube. Alhamdulillah for the internet.

This is where I encountered my first queer Person of the Record. I doubt they remember, but when I was in like middle school or some shit, I wrote a comment on one of their videos and totally lost my shit (or “fangirled”) when they responded. You see, I got into superheroes, fantasy, all the nerd shit that eventually led to the formation of fandoms on the 2010s internet: one of the places so many 2010s kids would find the tools to unpack and understand their own true identity. Tumblr culture, in other words. And I got into one of Tumblr culture’s golden age YouTubers: Leigh Motherfucking Lahav.

You know, as a kid, Musa was like always my favorite prophet. Got me into learning Hebrew, which, you know, pissed my Sudani fam off, and it’s not like the white people I knew were any less anti-Semitic. But for me personally, I always related to the Jewish kids: I mean, we both had to look at the pork dishes at lunch like “aww,” and we would have to step out of class when the real white people would do their Christmas shit or whatever the fuck. Also, you know, Judaism is like the fucking backbone of Christianity and Islam, and even though I prefer the latest rendition, I’ve always had a soft spot for those who have been guided among the People of the Book. I’ve never lost my interest in the histories of the Ethiopian, Mizrahi, and Ashkenazi Jews who, at various points, made parts of Sudan their home.

And so, I got into this Jewish nerd culture YouTuber, and even though I grew up around someone whose response to my saying “you can be anti-Zionist and not be anti-Semitic” was “anti-Semitic is such a Jewish word,” I related to Leigh Lahav a fucking ton. I loved that shit. So today, I’m taking a bowl of the duku, kicking back, and rewatching some classics and posting some random observations. Get tucked in, besties. 

Okay yeah I’m pretty fucking basic, so what? This video is fucking superb, are you kidding me? Could a 2010s shaab-of-the-homosexual-mustaqbal/future-homosexual-of-America possibly ask for more than a parody of Mean Girls set in Lord of the Rings? By the time I’d watched that video I think I’d only seen the Desolution of Smaug because Robbie dragged me to it, I didn’t watch the actually good Tolkienverse movies till way later. But anyways, looking back, definitely parallels between the Bilbo/tall sexy elf relationship and the relationship I had with this one kid in PE class, very queer. I approve. 

I mean, frankly, this is better than the Mean Girls movie. I mean, the Mean Girls movie is a classic of 2010s culture but it just does not age well, its sexual ethics (which are pretty core to its comedy) are just…weird in hindsight? Much more uncomfortable? Also sucks that Janis Ian is fucking Lebanese and it’s nothing more than a punchline. 

I mean, in this trailer, there’s much more romantic tension between Bilbo and the leader of the Elf Plastics and emphasis on that, which I think would make for a much more interesting story rather than the straight mess that Mean Girls is in reality. The scene of breaking down the cliques is also just so iconic and it’s such a wonderful format, and Lahav’s version is frankly one of my favorite renditions of it: recently, I saw the Ms. Marvel show do it and while it was accurate to the Muslim-American masjid experience it was also not funny. But that’s just me. I watched the show high, anyway.

Anyways, next:

Leftist takes on the didactic closer aside, this is another fucking classic. You see, I have a soft spot for Frozen and you can all get the fuck over it, Disney fans, it is just a good fucking movie. Maybe, anyway. I only saw the first half because one of my teachers was sick of preteens that day or something (we started the movie in class and never finished it). I just didn’t care back then, I was just sick of hearing “Let It Go” because who doesn’t have that collective trauma haha. But you know, I loved learning languages growing up and one of my favorite ways to learn was by listening to translated Disney music. It’s always an interesting experience, and guys, guys: there are Singlish dubs of Frozen on YouTube, okay? And the songs I’ve heard from the movie (never listened to the full soundtrack) do indeed slap. I listen to songs from Frozen more than Moanna, I’m just saying.

Anyways, I’ve also never seen Orange is the New Black. But I fucking loved this trailer, okay, I fucking love Disney musicals, the in-jokes are perfect, Elsa and Mulan seem like they’d be a great match, it’s a cut above the endless sea of Frozen parodies that inundated the 2010s internet. 

Basically me with You Will Die at Twenty, and it still was sort of underwhelming (I still think it’s one of the better Sudani movies tho, fight me). Anyways, got into OnlyLeigh during my MCU phase and man did this video hit, back in the 2010s, there was so much promise ahead of us! We didn’t even know No Way Home could be a thing yet! Back when I had something other than a dreary sense of fatigue at the MCU, finding my opinion of the older films souring now that I have knowledge of the breadth of their cultural impact. But I mean, like also, who gives a fuck it’s superheroes. This is funny, it’s charming, it’s relatable, it’s also the reason I avoid watching movie trailers now if I can help it. Spoilers don’t ruin something, but I do like to be fucking surprised. 

Anyways, this video takes on a new meaning for me as an Ace Attorney fan. Maybe rewatching it high was not a great idea considering Lahav goes through what academics like to call “The 3DS trilogy AA fandom cycle,” for the five of you who know what I’m talking about. 

This is really just my relationship with Jesus Christ Superstar. As much as Andrew Lloyd Webber is really really not great (to put it generously), since I was in fucking high school I was a Jesus Christ Superstar Evangelical and nobody will ever fucking take that away from me. Anyways, honestly, I love this love letter to the culture where some people were just like “okay, whatever, this is cool I guess” and some had become qualified MCU researchers (some of whom are now starring in the MCU, Iman Vellani!) Anyways, even though OnlyLeigh is our tragic villain/protagonist in this story, frankly, I think this video also serves as a decent argument for why if you’re gonna have a movie night at your house, put subtitles on and let people talk. Otherwise just go to the theatre because sitting on somebody’s couch in silence for 2 hours is boring as fuck, no matter what’s playing.

There was a time in my life where I was only friends with people who would have gotten every reference here. Frankly, some of the best friends I’ve ever had, lmao. It’s really interesting to see fandoms form as an “identity” back in that era of the internet, feels like seeing the beginnings of it all, a whole world of literature, shared narratives, and rituals people were building communities around. It’s fun to look at the parallels between fandoms and various Abrahamic religious sects: sharing principles, behaviors, rituals, and stories, but also heavily delineated by what their specific focuses were. You know, Christianity is just the Jesus fandom, Islam is the Qur’an and Hadith fandom, etc. etc. etc. I don’t mean this as an insult: actually, I strongly believe in the legitimacy of the literary culture of fucking fandom. Not to say it’s all good, or even most of it is, but it’s impact on culture is fucking immense. Just cause the adults don’t like it doesn’t mean it wasn’t fucking formative to us queer nerds who could only find people who liked what we liked on the internet, haha. Anyways, funny vid, really ironic to see the fear of the MCU fans here considering the MCU has the global cultural influence of the fucking Roman Empire at this point. Here, “fangirl” is the equivalent of mu’min, Believer: you can be a Sherlock Believer, Doctor Who Believer, you’re all People of the Record (Tumblr), who contribute to certain literary genres like scriptural exegesis (fanfiction). Sometimes there’s crossover between Peoples of the Record, sometimes there’s great animosity, both outside and within. You see what I’m saying?

Shit, this is 7 years old?? Age of Ultron??? Oh, so, so innocent. Weird, now I sympathize more with the Star Wars fans in this video than the pro-MCU headmaster is really just the CEO of the Disney corporation’s Prophet and Messenger. Like that speech freaks me the fuck out, what the hell, that’s too real, you’re right, Leigh, I had to watch Ms. Marvel! I knew I was going to hate it, I couldn’t stop myself!!

Ant-Man is still totally skippable though, really not a great MCU movie. Also, alhamdulillah the DC Universe still has not taken off, تبارك الذي بيده الملك وهو على كل شيء قدير

As somebody who’s been forced to explain Eid to every flavor of Christian fundamentalist rural white America has to offer, my sympathy for the Jewish characters here is unreal. Fuck, as somebody who’s told people they’re Shi’i Muslim and later get asked about Hinduism, this video still fucking hits. Honestly, fantastic educational tactic. Very funny, great way to demonstrate the parallels between traditional spirituality and magic (ultimately, just unregulated, forbidden, yet effective spirituality from the Abrahamic standpoint). 

The content of OnlyLeigh spoke to me because Leigh Lahav was the only queer-positive non-Christian Person of the Record I knew who was also into the MCU - and even then, only as an audience member. It’s not just the humor that speaks to my pop cultural context, but also the themes that always hit for somebody who feels the alienation that’s endemic to just not being born in the best place in the traditional Abrahamic gender/sexual hierarchy. Plus, shit is funny. Animation is cute and solid, the art style is iconic, if I weren’t so into iconography right now, I’d probably let it inspire some new cartoon-style drawings.

Anyways, thanks a ton, OnlyLeigh. You really helped! Peace be upon you, and all others who follow the right path.

But not in a “can we all get along” way, more like a “isn’t the internet fucking great sometimes?” way.

[oz--saffet]

S Y D - P O T E N T I A L C O N N E C T I O N S / P L O T S

Below the cut are multiple potential connections & plots for a character to potentially take up with SYD RIPLEY. Please be aware of any trigger warnings before proceeding, and message me if interested!

TW // Blood, Sexual Mention, Violence

🫂 Sedate Me - It’s a hot summer out in the middle of nowhere- and you meet a wayward young adult with an ugly haircut and a dumb smile. He’s green around the edges, and came from a family in Louisiana. But you’re far from there, maybe a traveler yourself, and at some basement party thrown by the grungy underground queer kids of a derelict city, you get to talking- but more importantly, you get to experiencing. Whatever drugs you both take leave you sitting on a rooftop somewhere, throwing water balloons at street lamps to see if they’ll extinguish. You learn about Syd’s fucked up life with an uppercrust witch family of assholes. High out of your minds, you both make a vow to be best fucked up friends forever, locking pinkies. And when Syd moves to Greywood, somehow or another, you end up there too. Before or after doesn’t matter. Fate just has a way of pulling y’all back together again.

👊 Fight Me/Kiss Me - You hate his shit face. He’s always saying something stupid or brazenly convinced something’s right when it’s wrong. Not only that, but he shows up to things and always just seems to be trying to get a word in. You don’t fully notice the loneliness there, the way Syd tries to make friends. But you revel in arguing with him- and he relishes in it right back. Drinks at the bar turns into rolling eyes and pushes and shoves, until you’re both out in the parking lot. Until he’s under you breathing heavy and the stale beer emanating from your breath has him gripping your jacket and tugging you in. You both fuck and fight like it’s your job, and you’re not sure which you enjoy more.

💭 Miss Me - You’re a similar age to the one Ripley ‘daughter’ and you get along swimmingly. You both live out in Louisiana and you often meet up with the Ripley kids when they actually go outside. The youngest is rebellious and excitable, and even as a preteen, the Ripley ‘daughter’ starts to go by Syd. You two go off into the woods and hunt frogs. You see how deep into the mud you can go without sinking like a dead gator, and you go searching for elusive ‘mystery fish’, a favorite game of Syd’s. You’re kindred spirits, made of muck and algae and the smell of wet bark. Syd’s cooler brother Chet always calls you both ‘the little swamp monsters’. In high school Syd asks you to help cut his hair, and you steal his older brother’s car and go looking for ghosts. But Syd ran off on his 16th birthday, and maybe you’ve texted and FaceTimed, but it’s not the same... until Syd shows up in Greywood, a grimy werewolf with a chip on his shoulder. How do you both restart your old friendship? Is it tough, or does it feel like no time has passed?

👋 Introduce Me - You are a werewolf, and regardless of how long you’ve been that way, you are impressive to Syd. Syd, who grew up figuring out his life and only having a few friends, only to lose them all when he ran away to Greywood. He’s spent his life driving around not really having a place to call home... and now he’s here, a werewolf, and barely understands what it means to have a ‘pack’. He needs help... and you can feel it. He’s desperate for some kind of connection but often gets into fights instead. You think he might need to be taken under someone’s wing. Maybe he needs help being introduced to the pack, to the places they go. Even just being filled in on what’s been going on around Greywood from someone who gets it. Syd is desperate to belong but doesn’t know how to make that shown- and maybe you see that, just a little bit. He’s standoffish at first, but finds you comforting and helpful. He may even see you as a form of guidance or a close friend.

🏥 Help Me - You are someone in a car at night. It’s so dark out and your high-beams are on, and the radio is turned up. For some reason it’s slow & sad songs tonight, and you’re eager to get home. Roy Orbison croons. ‘I was alright, for a while, I could smile for a while. Then I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight, when you stopped to say ‘hello’.’ The next second, you see a small man tripping out of the woods and right onto the street. He’s bloody and his clothing is torn and his eyes are wide. He’s bruised up and terrified... and against the fear screaming in the back of your head, you help him into your car. His name is Syd, and he flops back into your passenger seat after you’ve asked him if he’s alright. He’s out of it and mumbling something about a giant hairy beast. He’s trying not to bleed on your car’s interior. He’s silent for a second and laughs weakly. ‘Shit, is that- this is one of my favorite songs.’ From there on, you start to talk carefully. He’s been attacked by a werewolf, and he’s bleeding- a lot. Over the course of a few days, you help clean him up and learn about Syd’s life, traveling place to place. You finally send him on his way. But when you end up in Greywood for whatever reason, you see him again, looking nothing like the scared, shaken man you met less than a year ago.

[designedonchaos]

P O T E N T I A L  C O N N E C T I O N S

Gus Amado, 43, He/Him, ASL Interpreter

Under the Read More are different connection ideas based on Val’s life. Feel free to message me or comment on the post if any of these strike your fancy and I can reach out to you to plot more. 💙 

💉 Sedate Me - It’s a hot summer out in the middle of nowhere- and you meet an older man with an ugly haircut and a watery smile. He’s living in an RV and he’s running away from something. He’s clearly been through it- and he doesn’t talk about it. Maybe a traveler yourself at the time, and at some basement party thrown by the grungy underground queers in some hot midwestern town, you get to talking- but more importantly, you get to experiencing. Whatever drugs you both take leave you sitting on a rooftop somewhere, throwing water balloons at street lamps to see if they’ll extinguish. You finally learn about Gus’s background- at least, what you can glean from between both of your hazes and delusions. You know he was a special agent, and you know his boyfriend is dead. High out of your minds, you both make a vow to be best fucked up friends forever, locking pinkies. And years later, despite the city being so vast and full of possibilities, you see the familiar face of your drug-buddy out and living his life, in NYC. He looks better. But before or after doesn’t matter. Fate just has a way of pulling y’all back together again.

👊 Fight Me/Kiss Me - You hate his shit face. His dumb smile and the way he always knows a little too much about something. Not only that, but he shows up to things and always just seems to be trying to get a word in. You don’t fully notice the loneliness there, the way Gus tries desperately to make friends, afraid of his empty apartment. But you revel in arguing with him- and he relishes in it right back. Drinks at the bar turns into rolling eyes and pushes and shoves, until you’re both out in the parking lot. Until he’s under you breathing heavy and the stale beer emanating from your breath has him gripping your jacket and tugging you in. You both fuck and fight like it’s your job, and you’re not sure which you enjoy more.

🧒 Miss Me - You’re a similar age to one of the many Amado children and you get along swimmingly. You’ve spent your life in NYC and you often meet up with the Amado kids when they go out to the community pool. The younger boy is sweet and a bit of a mama’s boy, but he’s always coming up with funny stories and you two play pretend out in Central Park while your moms have picnics. You two go off into the woods and hunt frogs. You see how deep into the mud you can go without sinking, and you go searching for elusive ‘mystery fish’, a favorite game of Gus’s. You’re kindred spirits, made of muck and algae and the smell of wet bark. Maybe it’s because you’re both so used to the concrete and boring structures of high-rise apartments that you can’t enter. Gus’s cooler brother Chet always calls you both ‘the little swamp monsters’. In high school Gus asks you to help cut his hair, and you steal his older brother’s car and go looking for ghosts. But Gus started to slowly clean up- and suddenly he was an agent. Stuffy and carrying a gun- but sometimes you see the scruffy kid you were best friends with. Your texts and Facetimes were few and far between, until his partner died and he retired from the force. Suddenly he needed friendship more than ever- but sometimes it’s not so simple. How do you both restart your old friendship? Is it tough, or does it feel like no time has passed?

💬  Introduce Me - You do your job, and you do it well- a professional at whatever you do. And regardless of how long you’ve been that way, you are impressive to Gus. Gus, who grew up figuring out his life and only having a few friends, only to lose one of the closest ones he had. He’s spent the past few years driving around in his RV with Chili, not really having a place to call home... and now he’s come back to NYC, and barely understands what it means to have a family any more. He needs help... and you can feel it. He’s desperate for some kind of connection but often gets into fights instead. You think he might need to be taken under someone’s wing. Maybe he needs help being introduced to new friends, to a brotherhood. Even just being filled in on what’s been going on. Gus is desperate to belong but doesn’t know how to make that shown- and maybe you see that, just a little bit. He makes all his jokes at first, affable and kind, but finds you comforting and helpful. He may even see you as a form of guidance or a close friend.

🚘  Help Me - You are someone in a car at night. It’s so dark out and your high-beams are on, and the radio is turned up. For some reason it’s slow & sad songs tonight, and you’re eager to get home. Roy Orbison croons. ‘I was alright, for a while, I could smile for a while. Then I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight, when you stopped to say ‘hello’.’ The next second, you see a shorter man tripping out of the woods and right onto the street. He’s bloody and his clothing is torn and his eyes are wide. He’s bruised up and terrified... and against the fear screaming in the back of your head, you help him into your car. His name is Gus, and he flops back into your passenger seat after you’ve asked him if he’s alright. He’s out of it and mumbling “Just drive, just drive”. He’s trying not to bleed on your car’s interior. He’s silent for a second and laughs weakly. ‘Shit, is that- this is one of my favorite songs.’ From there on, you start to talk carefully. He’s bleeding- a lot. You get him to a police station and that’s that... until you see on the news that an FBI agent and his partner were held hostage at gunpoint for 48 hours by a drug cartel. You recognize the face immediately. The police call you for a follow-up and you get to meet Gus in the hospital as he recovers. Suddenly you’re visiting every few days, hearing that not many have. 

[werenotacoupleyesyouare]

I don’t think any piece of media will ever affect me as much as Welcome to Nightvale has.

[amuseoffyre]

While there’s a lot of celebration of the inclusivity and queerness of Our Flag Means Death, I need to take a moment to have bucketload of emotions about the neurodiversity of the show as well.

Specifically, I want to talk about the fact that Stede Bonnet, our leading man, is autistic-coded. Not in the usual TV show way of being a sauvant or a cold, emotionless robot-man (I see you TV shows. I judge you) but in a realistic way that made me go “oh no. it me.” multiple times.

And since this got unexpectedly long and babbly, I will show mercy. (Warning - here be spoilers)

Let’s begin with Stede’s special main interest: pirates. He loves pirates. He loves them a lot. He had a model ship built, then scaled it up to a real one. Whenever he played with his kids, it inevitably turned to games of playing at piracy. He’s fascinated by it and tries to share this special interest with his neurotypical wife who gets increasingly frustrated with his fixation on this thing she doesn’t like or understand and lack of interest in her, the family or their shared life. Moreso because - to Stede - this hyperfocus is an absolute fundamental thing when it comes to him being happy.

The same can apply to his wardrobe and his library on the ship. These things are seen as wasteful and useless, but Stede - at this point - believes they are fundamental to his happiness and comfort. Yes, he wants piracy, but he likes some things to stay the same: his books (all his favourite ones he’s read before), his various favourite seasonal clothes, his non-scratchy blankets. Our boy even went so far as to replace a good portion of the ship’s gunpowder with his favourite marmalade because he couldn’t go without it.

We’re shown several times that he likes to maintain his routine, even if he’s doing it somewhere that isn’t with his wife and family and home, even extending as far as taking meals at a table at a set time. Between the regular and fancy breakfasts with Ed and the dining table scene in episode 10, I have The Feelings.

In both episode 1 and 10, Stede does try to mask and fit into a place where he has never quite belonged, following the social codes and rules as far as he can see them. He comes back, he does the Correct Thing and tries to make things right for everyone - if he’s where he started, his family won’t be broken and Ed won’t be ruined and everything can go back to the way it was before he wrecked it by trying to do the thing that made him happy. Only it’s too late, because he’s experienced a world where he can fit in and be accepted exactly as he is, idiosyncracies and all. It just takes him forcing himself back into that rigid little box to realise that he never fit there to begin with.

And to go back to the dynamic with Mary (and also other people of their class/rank), in their interactions before he leaves the first time, there’s a clear mismatch in their modes of communication. He is doing his duty to be a husband and a father - and based on his dad as his role model, it’s not surprising he doesn’t do it well.

She asks him to do things but when he doesn’t do them (asking someone if they can do something is very different than telling someone to do. Two very different modes of communication which can be taken differently depending on whether the listener is atypical or not), she descends to using passive aggression and sarcasm to insult him, which he recognises to a degree, but doesn’t understand why.

The way he describes passive aggression rings of someone who has spent many years trying to mask and to fit in, but never quite managing to do so and having his so-called failings and flaws pointed out to him. He can play the part, but he doesn’t feel comfortable and will lurk at the edges of formal social gatherings because of past experience, waiting for them to turn on him because he’s not doing something ‘correctly’. He described the rich as using words like weapons and we are shown the canonical evidence that his behaviour, his sensitivity, his gentleness and his special interests have made him a target of both physical and verbal abuse.

When he describes his favourite horse as having kind eyes and Mary says “and what’s your favourite pig?”, you can see he knows he’s being insulted - years of experience - but there’s a real sense that he doesn’t understand why she’s being mean to him when he answered her question about his favourite horse.

He doesn’t realise that she’s unhappy or angry with him until she actually raises her voice and is visibly angry. When she does start shouting, he shrinks in on himself, saying “I’ll stop it” because he didn’t realise he was doing something wrong. Likewise, there are a number of interactions with the crew and enemies that show that he is really not very good at reading a situation unless things are stated in a direct manner.

It’s very telling that when Mary and Stede finally start communicating directly instead of her trying to passively nudge him into a social mode of behaviour he isn’t aware he’s meant to follow, they actually click and for the first time, they understand each other. The scene when they talk to each other is so beautifully done (even if it started with an attempted murder XD)

Also, while he has learned to identify the verbal jabs of the upper classes, when he does run away to sea his lack of self-awareness of the entirely different kind of danger he’s putting himself in is another big sign. That was a bit of a revelation when I got my diagnosis, especially in hindsight, given some of the ways I have travelled in the past (how am I not dead? sweet christmas no wonder people panicked when I went places solo o.o). He’s so excited to be where he is that even when he’s stabbed by the Spaniard, he asks “did you mean to do that?” 

There’s probably more, but right now, I am drowning in emotions and I love them your honour.

(Also, Ed is my flavour of ADHD. I too would spot something seemingly random and odd and weaponise it :) That is all)

eta: and since I can’t stop my own hyperfixation, here is my little Ed is ADHD essay too :)

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids

Chapter One: The New Kid

Story Summary: Roman has to have a completely new start. New school, new town, new home and a new family. As a kid in his first foster home, Roman isn’t prepared to trust these people and get hurt again, but he’s not the only kid in the house recovering from past issues. Regardless, their foster father Patton is ready to be the dad they’ve always needed, and traumatized kids learn to lean on each other for support.

Story Warnings: Past abuse of all types, trauma, and anxiety

Pairings: Familial LAMP

Chapter Summary: Roman moves into his new foster home. He is not having a good time.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic, implied past abuse, food, one vomiting mention, and talk of hidden cameras

Word Count: 6778

Notes: First chapter of a story I’ve wanted to make for my foster au! Thanks to Cornybird on Ao3 for beta-ing this one <3

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton called out from downstairs. “Can you come down here? I wanna talk about something with you!”

Virgil and Logan gave each other curious looks from their sitting places on the same bed. Virgil placed his phone on the nightstand beside him as Logan set his book down at the foot of the bed, both standing up to exit Virgil’s bedroom and head downstairs. At the dining room table was their foster father, Patton, smiling wide with a laptop and notepad in front of him.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked after he and Logan glanced at each other. 

Patton giggled to himself, “Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you! Nothing bad, promise. I think it’s very exciting.”

They quickly sat at the table on the other side of Patton. “So,” Patton joked, “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!”

Logan and Virgil spoke in unison. “You’re getting another foster kid.”

Patton blinked. “…How’d you guess it?”

“You’ve been really happy recently, but also very quiet about why you were so happy. You only get like this when you’re bringing another foster kid into the mix. You did the same thing when Logan came along.” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me about his suspicions due to your behavior, and I agreed with him. I think we both expected you’d make the announcement soon.”

“Oh.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think it was that easy to tell. Well, you guessed right! The new kiddo is moving in on Sunday!”

Logan leaned closer. “What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman Goldsberry. He’s fifteen, and he’s only been in the system for about five months. Though, before this, he was in kinship care with his aunt, so living here is going to be very strange for him. So just be patient with him at first, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, we will be.” Virgil smirked. “But you said he was fifteen?”

“Yup! He’ll be a sophomore in high school this year.”

“Aw, that means Logan’s still the baby in the family.”

Logan blushed. “I’m a teenager. I am not the so-called ‘baby’ of the family.”

“Sounds like something the baby of the family would say.”

“Falsehood!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Patton tried not to laugh. He knew how much Logan hated being the youngest, but it was hard to act like his reaction wasn’t funny. “Remember, Roman will be here Sunday, so be on your best behavior when he gets here. No spooking him.”

“Got it, got it.” Virgil slouched in his chair and thought. “One more question though. How fucked up is he?”

“Virgil, language.” Patton warned.

“Sorry! It’s just a question. We know you have a soft spot for the most effed up kids you can find.”

“I would have to say I’m curious as well.” Logan agreed. “It’s become a pattern.”

Patton sighed. “He’s not messed up, he’s a kid who’s struggling and needs support. If he wants to tell you two about his past, then he will.”

Virgil groaned. “Fine, fine. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Patton smiled. “Yes, you can go.”

“Great! I’m stealing your book, Logan.”

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Virgil darted back upstairs with a maniacal laugh as Logan chased him, the sound of bickering teenagers traveling back up the stairs. Patton shook his head in amusement, still listening to the ruckus in case it got out of hand and he needed to step in, but Patton knew his kids. They may tease, but they’re not mean.

Patton continued working on his laptop once the noise quieted down again.

***

“I hate this.”

“I know you do, Roman, but I’m certain you can persevere and find happiness in this new home!” Roman’s social worker, Mr. Picani, smiled hopefully as he continued to drive him to his foster home. Roman was scooted as close to the window as he could possibly get, his legs crossed and clamped together so tight his thighs were getting sore. He didn’t trust Picani, and he sure as hell didn’t trust this new house. No matter what anyone told him.

“I already had a home! Living with my aunt was so much better than whatever could happen here.” Roman’s hands shook just thinking about it. He didn’t know anything about this new person, and the idea of being in a house full of strangers was enabling the more gruesome side of his imagination. He trusted his aunt, at least, but now he was going to a family who could be anyone.

Roman didn’t like the idea of that.

Picani frowned. “You know why your aunt couldn’t house you anymore, Roman. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll like this new place! It’s more up north in Foley County, and the area is nice. He also has two other foster children if that helps.”

“How old are the other kids?”

“Fourteen and sixteen, I think. You’ll get to know them more during your time there.”

Roman hummed, looking out the window and digging his nails into his shirt sleeve. He really hoped this foster dad hadn’t touched them before. Even forgetting about himself, a fourteen year old kid having to deal with abuse? Even after getting away from bad parents? He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“And if you ever feel unsafe,” Picani added, “you can always contact me, ‘kay?”

I already feel unsafe. “Okay. How much longer until we’re there?”

“About twenty more minutes. Just enough time to finish the rest of the Tangled movie soundtrack!”

Roman didn’t respond. Normally, he’d love to have a Disney soundtrack he could burst into song with, but he wasn’t feeling it today. And probably wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time.

He just wanted to feel safe. He felt safe with his aunt, but she couldn’t afford to keep him long after the trial since she gave birth to the twins. His aunt was always one of his favorite relatives, one of the few adults he genuinely trusted, now he was going to the house of some random guy named Patton, who he’d only heard of yesterday, and expected to be okay near him. Well, he wasn’t okay. And he wasn’t going to be, ever.

Roman leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes. His hands still shook a little and his chest felt weird, but fighting it now was pointless. Roman just hoped that if this guardian did try something, he’d do it quickly. The sooner Roman told on him to save himself and the other kids, the better.

Though, Roman still felt his hands tingle at the thought. The idea of “getting it over with” made him want to scream and cry. He wrapped his legs tighter together.

After a long time of trying to fight against his own anxious thoughts, Picani pulled into a driveway and stopped the car and Roman opened his eyes to take a look at where they were. He didn’t know the neighborhood, but it seemed like Picani was telling the truth when he said the neighborhood was nice. The house seemed huge, big bushes and flower patches in the front yard and a nice outside paint job. It looked like a house that a functional nuclear family would have, where the dad is a doctor and the mom stays at home with the kids.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Roman thought. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Here we are!” Picani unbuckled his seatbelt with a wide smile. “Grab your suitcases in the back, I’ll knock on the door.”

Roman nodded and got out of the car as Picani popped the trunk. He grabbed two red suitcases and a backpack, closing the car and wheeling it all up to the front door. Picani was there talking to a guy who Roman assumed must be Patton Sanders, and by taking just one look at him…Roman had never seen a person look so much like a dad.

 He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo with tennis shoes and knee socks, thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his face to finish off the dorky look. Patton managed to pull it off, sure, but Roman felt a primal urge from binge-watching Queer Eye to fix that mess of an outfit. 

Before Roman could truly take in the fact that Patton’s knee socks also had kittens on them, Patton smiled wide once he saw Roman in the corner of his eye. “Hello, Roman! It’s so nice to have you, come on in you two!”

Patton stepped aside to hold out the door as Picani and Roman both walked in. Roman scraped his arm on the door frame trying to keep a reasonable distance from Patton, but neither of the adults seemed to notice how Roman was acting. Patton kept smiling away, and Roman tried to see how real that smile truly was. “So, Mr. Picani, I know I have some things to go over with you, so how would you feel if the other kiddos showed you around the house, Roman?”

…Kiddos? “That sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect!” Patton walked over to the staircase and called upstairs. “Logan, Virgil! Can you come down here please?”

Patton’s request was quickly followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Two kids walked down the stairs; a boy in a black and purple hoodie, and another boy with thick glasses almost the same as Patton’s. They both stared at Roman curiously, and Roman wanted to sink into the floor.

Patton placed an arm over Logan and Virgil’s shoulders and Roman winced at the sight. “So, kiddos, this is Roman! And Roman, this is Logan,” Patton pointed to the kid in glasses. “And Virgil!” He pointed to the kid with the hoodie. The boys didn’t react much besides an awkward half smile directed Roman’s way. “How about you both show him around while I talk to Mr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Come upstairs, dude.”

Patton let go of both of the boys and walked off into the kitchen with Picani. Roman watched them from the living room for a moment, but he could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him from behind, so he turned around and followed the kids upstairs, bringing his luggage with him.

At the top of the stairs, a long hallway connected six doors on the second floor. Four of the doors were plain, brown doors, but two of them had very distinct personalities shown on the outside. One was covered in stars and planets, the door covered in a starry piece of wallpaper with a metal planet popping out of the background. The other was covered in caution tape saying keep out, with emo band posters poking out from under the tape. Two very different personalities.

“Your room will be this one at the very end of the hallway.” Logan opened the door to the room, turning on the light as Roman peeked inside. “You can place your luggage in here in the meantime.”

Roman nodded and walked inside to throw his luggage onto the floor. The room was very bare, with brown sheets on a twin bed and not much other furniture besides a desk and a dresser. There was a lamp on the desk and a floor lamp next to a door, and one of the opened closet doors showed that the top was covered in random boxes. Some newer-looking stuffed animals were also sitting on the bed; a soft bear and one of those squishy stuffed chickens Roman always saw in stores. It looked like an attempt at a welcoming gift, but new stuffed animals always put Roman on edge. He looked around the room, and the idea of sleeping here made Roman’s heart start to pound. He needed to check this place before he went to sleep that night.

Virgil smirked, taking Roman away from his anxious thoughts. “Damn, you’ve got suitcases? Living the fancy life I see.”

“…What?” Roman reeled.

Logan adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Most foster children move their things using garbage bags. It’s rare we use actual suitcases.”

Roman looked down at his luggage. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “Oh, well…my aunt gave them to me before I moved out, so…”

Virgil shrugged. “What do you wanna see up here first?”

“We could show him our rooms. Or possibly the attic?”

“The attic is cooler.”

“What’s in the attic?” Roman asked.

“It essentially acts as a playroom.” Logan explained. “Board games and a…random assortment of items are all piled up there. It’s quite entertaining to search through, actually.”

“And it’s in the best place ever, come here.” Virgil motioned for Roman and Logan to follow him. He stopped at one of the doors, opening it and letting Roman peek over his shoulder to look inside. It looked like a normal walk-in closet, first aid and toilet paper on one side with batteries and rows of shampoo on the other. Virgil walked in with a smirk, “Now, check this shit out.”

Virgil jumped and pulled on a string dangling from the roof, unraveling a steep staircase through the closet leading up to a hole in the roof. Virgil started to climb the stairs as Logan followed suit, so Roman climbed right after them.

When Roman made it to the top, his eyes widened with wonder. Granted, it wasn’t anything too spectacular, surely not like something in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but the fact that this hidden space existed made Roman feel excited. At his old house, he barely even had his own room to himself, so a place like this was paradise.

The walls were painted white with a giant window above a sitting area on the other side of the room. Shelves of items scattered the walls, and the rug on the floor was so clean Roman wondered how they even got a vacuum up here. It wasn’t anything like his old attic, stuffed with random items from over the years and covered in spiderwebs. Roman felt like he could spend most of his day here.

“We have a lot of various toys up here.” Logan said. He gestured to the boxes on one of the shelves. “Pokémon cards, a chess set, Magic the Gathering, lots of Lego sets, craft supplies, most of our toys make their way up here.”

Roman’s head perked up. “…Craft supplies?”

Logan nodded. “I believe we have paints and drawing utensils.”

Roman looked at the bottom of the shelf Logan gestured toward. There was a box of small painting canvases with paints and brushes, and though they definitely looked cheap, Roman saw them and grew excited as he took out a canvas and the paints in wonder.

“Kiddos!” A voice yelled from the staircase. Logan and Roman walked over to the stairs to look down, but Virgil stayed in his place on a beanbag near the window. Patton and Picani stood at the bottom, and Patton smiled. “Now, what are you all doing up there?”

“We’re showing him around the house.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

“You are, huh?” Patton crossed his arms. “Does he know where the bathroom is?”

Logan blinked. Virgil called out from behind both of them. “He knows where the important things are!”

Patton tried not to smile, but he lost that battle quickly. “Well, Mr. Picani is leaving right now, Roman.”

“How ‘bout you come down here and I talk to you in private for a sec?” Picani asked.

“Uh, alright!” Roman climbed down the stairs and followed Picani out of the closet, while Patton climbed up the stairs into the attic. They both stepped away to the other side of the hallway, and suddenly Picani’s face became very serious.

“Do you feel safe in this house, Roman?” He asked.

Roman clenched his fist and bit his cheek. No, he didn’t, actually. He didn’t know what Patton would do once the coast was clear from guests, and the idea of what could happen was freezing him from the inside out. The only place Roman would feel truly safe was if he was back in the hospital.

But Roman knew that wasn’t possible, and he couldn’t keep bothering Picani all the time for fears that couldn't be helped. He had to be on his own. Alone.

“I think I do. They…seem like good people.” Roman lied. He’d have to find another way to survive.

Picani smiled, not noticing Roman’s unease. He always was a great actor. “Amazing! Let me know if anything comes up, bucko, and I’ll talk to ya again soon! But until then…so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen goodnight!”

Picani walked downstairs and waved behind him, laughing at his own reference as he walked out the door. Roman watched him from the staircase until he could see the car leaving the driveway through the window, and Roman felt truly hopeless. This was a nightmare.

He stood frozen on the staircase for a while, staring through the window with a hope of Picani turning back and saving him. But no car came into the driveway, and Roman didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What do you even do when living in a house full of strangers?

“Heya, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the voice coming from behind him, jerking his head back and pushing his back up against the wall. It was Patton, smiling wide with a concerned look in his eyes at Roman’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to give you the rest of the tour. I’ll show you everything you need this time!”

Patton laughed at himself, but Roman felt the need to vomit. Patton was close, way too close, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to be roaming around the house with him, vulnerable and nowhere to hide. He needed to be somewhere safe.

“Uh, no, I’m fine! I’ll figure it out myself!” Patton raised an eyebrow at him, but Roman didn’t care. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Patton’s voice became softer. He pointed to the left of him, down the opposite direction of Roman’s room. “It’s over there. Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Roman darted past Patton quickly and out of reach, rushing into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He pressed his back against the door and sat down, pressing his feet against the sink, ready to fight against the door if someone tried to open it. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to even out his scattered breathing. He knew Patton was outside of the door, he could feel it. He just needed to be somewhere safe.

Roman didn’t move from his spot on the floor, eventually curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. He was so tired, the whole day his heart had been pounding with anxiety and he was sick of it. What did it take to feel safe? Was it even possible for Roman to feel safe anymore?

He didn’t want an answer to that. He was just so tired.

 Roman closed his eyes and leaned his body against the bathroom wall, ignoring all his aches from the strange position and trying to give himself some comfort. His body was exhausted but his mind kept racing, thinking of all the things that could go wrong while living here. He tried to fight the anxious thoughts, but Roman figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he threw up in the toilet maybe they’d leave him alone for the day.

But Roman never got to that point. He rested on the floor and let his body shake, taking some deep breaths at times to feel less like he was suffocating. Eventually, a knock came to the bathroom door, and it took everything in Roman not to yelp.

“Are you still in there, Roman?” Roman could tell the voice was Logan, and that helped him relax a little more. He took in a big breath and tried to act normal.

“Yes, sorry. Do you need it?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I simply wanted to ask if you wanted to come downstairs and use the paints you seemed so interested in.”

Roman’s ears perked up at that. He forgot all about the paints, and it would be something that could ease his mind a little. But Roman wasn’t that dumb. He knew this was a plan to get him out of the bathroom. Though…he might not mind that much if he wasn’t alone.

“…Would you sit with me?” Roman asked. He doubted Patton would try anything so long as they weren’t alone together, and if he pleased them enough, maybe they’d leave him alone.

Logan was slow to respond. “I suppose I can if you wish for me to.”

Roman rolled his eyes at that sentence. What a nerd, he thought, standing up and slowly unlocking the door to the bathroom before opening it. He looked through the crack to check if Patton was standing behind Logan, but no one else was there. Logan stood there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, and Roman fully exited the bathroom.

“I set the box on the dining room table. However, Patton is also there making a pizza for dinner.”

Roman froze. The same room as Patton? “… I’ll go, but you have to stay near me.”

Logan nodded. He led the way down the stairs while Roman followed, entering the dining room through the connected area in the living room. On the table was the box of painting supplies, and Roman ran toward them to start taking them out, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Patton in the corner of his eye. He grabbed a canvas and the cheap paints, as well as a plastic pallet and all the brushes. All that he needed was a cup of water, but…the sink was right next to where Patton was.

Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “…Logan, can you get me a cup of water?”

“Alright.” Logan stood up and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water and handing it to Roman. Roman murmured a thank you, and Logan sat back down at his seat. He was grateful that Logan didn’t ask why Roman couldn’t get it himself.

“So, Roman,” Roman stiffened at the sound of Patton’s voice. “Are you an artsy kid?”

Roman gripped hard onto his paints, squirting out a lot more orange than he meant to. “I guess, yeah. I like art.”

“Do you like to paint, or are you more of a sketchy kinda guy?”

“Uh…all of it. Painting, drawing, coloring, I used to make a lot of stuffed animals too.”

“Awww, that sounds adorable!” The oven beeped and Patton put on his oven gloves and pulled out the pizza. “It’s probably best I don’t know how to make stuffed animals though. If I did, this house would be full of little stuffed puppies!”

Roman didn’t respond. He focused completely on mixing red and orange for a perfect sunset color, attempting to get a good gradient with the lack of shade variety. Once he filled in his sunset and blended it with a dark night sky, he mixed his white with a dot of gray and made darker clouds, dotting them above his rough-looking hill. He wanted to add more texture to the bottom of the canvas, maybe some trees, but he didn’t know how to make good ones without a fan brush. Maybe he could add some grass…

“Alright, the pizza is cooled down and ready!” Roman noticed Patton put a plate next to his painting, so he pushed all his supplies out of the way so he could eat. Patton set down more plates around the table as Virgil walked in. “It was a real pizza work if I do say so myself!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil held back a snort, but Roman didn’t quite know how to react. He might have found the dad joke more amusing if he wasn’t so on edge.

Roman took a bite of the pizza. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a store-bought one that you heat up in the oven and serve, but Roman didn’t realize he was so hungry until now. He had skipped lunch because his nerves about coming here were making his stomach churn, but finally having food near him was bringing back that hunger. Roman’s foot was still tapping violently under the table, but it was progress.

Everyone ate their pizza in silence. It was incredibly awkward on Roman’s end, no stories to tell as this table full of strangers kept making glances at him. Patton was the worst with it. He seemed to want to say something to Roman, continuously making eye contact with him until Roman looked away, but still not saying a word. He couldn’t take it. He hated it, but he hated this silence even more. Roman swallowed the pizza bite he was chewing and opened his mouth.

“So,” Roman started, “what do I…call you anyway?”

“Me?” Patton asked, his eyes lighting up. Why would his eyes light up at that?

“Yeah. Do I say Mr. Sanders, or…?”

“Oh, Patton works just fine! I hear Mr. Sanders way too often at work to wanna hear it at home too!”

“Oh, where- where do you work?” At least it wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I’m a nurse practitioner for a clinic. It’s a lot of fun, just a lot of work. At least my hours aren’t as crazy as most nurses.”

“Oh that’s…cool.” Roman didn’t know how to continue off of that.

“It is! Is there anything else you wanna ask me, though? Maybe about the house, routines, anything?”

“Well…what are the rules here?” That seemed like a very safe question to have. It could save Roman a lot of trouble, and it could give him more of a read on the kind of parent Patton was.

“Oh, it’s not that much. You’re old enough to clean up after yourself, so make it a habit to pick up your own things and not put that stuff on other people. Be kind to everyone else, and the only rule I’m very strict about is no yelling. You can be loud sometimes, but no angry yelling at anybody here. The last one is to respect others’ privacy. Always knock on someone’s bedroom door before entering. But that’s really it, I think!”

How often do you break that last rule? “That seems reasonable, I suppose.”

Patton smiled. “I think you’ll do just fine here, kiddo. I know it’s hard to start over, but you won’t be alone during it!”

“…Thank you.”

“And I’m sure Virgil and Logan could help out a little bit, since they’ve been in the same situation! Right, you two?”

Virgil was halfway through trying to stick a whole piece of crust in his mouth. “…Uh huh.”

“…Virgil, chew your food.”

“Lo’an ‘old me I cou’ do it!”

“Do not drag me into this.”

Virgil hid his mouth behind his hand as he chewed for a long period of time. “You’re just avoiding your responsibility.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m finished, so try not to choke now.”

“Now I’m gonna choke just to spite you.”

“Please do not start a choking contest, Virge.”

Virgil groaned before swallowing the last of his crust. He followed Logan to the dishwasher and put his plate in, closing it and scurrying away back upstairs. Logan hesitated leaving the dining room, looking between Patton and Roman. Roman couldn’t tell if Patton noticed Logan’s hesitation or if it was just perfect timing, because he also got up and put his plate in the dishwasher.

“When you finish, Roman, just put your dishes away.”

“I can do that.”

Patton smiled and walked off into the living room, sitting on the couch to watch some TV show seemingly about cute puppies and kittens. Logan glanced at Roman again.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Logan asked.

Roman ate the last of his pizza and pushed his plate to the side, grabbing his painting again to put in front of him. It was the most effective thing at calming him down. “…No, I should be okay.”

Logan nodded and walked upstairs. Roman tried to fully immerse himself in his painting, focusing on every last detail and how he could make it better without over-detailing it. Roman put more green on his brush and started to dot at his hill on the bottom, trying to add little blades of textured grass. It was a long process, just enough to take the majority of his focus and calm his hands.

…Roman felt really weird here. It didn’t feel like he lived in this house, now. It felt like he was spending the day with some friends, and his aunt would come pick him up before the sun went down. But no, these new kids were his foster brothers and the adult he was terrified of was expected to act as his new dad. There was no one coming to save him, he was expected to sleep here and eat here and live here. This was supposed to be his safe space.

Roman rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Don’t focus on that now, he thought. Focus on the painting.

So he did focus. He focused on monotonous texture additions and watching the paint dry on his canvas as he went along, letting the repetitive action calm his mind just a little bit. His calming method seemed to be working too well, actually, as the more details he added and stared at the paint, Roman realized that his constant panic today had completely exhausted him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and Roman could feel his eyelids get heavier. He rubbed at his eyes again and tried to focus.

Roman yawned once. He yawned twice and rubbed his eyes as he kept adding minor details to his painting. Then, after a while, Roman scooted his painting to the side and laid his head down on the table.

***

“…Roman, wake up, please.”

Roman buried his head deeper in his arms. “Come on Roman, it’s late.”

Roman groggily lifted his head up. Patton was sitting in the chair across from him, the lights were all off except for the one light above the dining table. Roman looked around him, and noticed that it was dark outside now. Shit.

“You fell asleep, but that’s okay. It’s bedtime now, and the other two are already in bed, so how about you go get ready and sleep in your bed? I bet it’s comfier than the table.”

Roman dug his palm into his eye. “…What time is it…?”

“About 10:20. You all have bedtime at ten.”

“…But I’m fifteen?” Roman gave Patton a confused and sleepy look. He hasn’t had a bedtime since he was twelve, especially one that was so early. His mom only told him to be in bed by midnight.

Patton smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Logan is the only one who needs a bedtime, but I don’t want him to feel left out because he’s the only one asleep. So, how about you get ready for bed?”

Roman nodded and got out of his chair. The more he walked, the more he woke up, and he could tell by the time he went back upstairs that he wasn’t going to go back to sleep for a while since he could feel his heartbeat in his chest again. Patton followed him upstairs, turning off the dining room light as they went. Roman got his bathroom bag out from his smaller suitcase and a cotton shirt with sweatpants for pajamas, bringing it all with him to the bathroom. He closed the door as he brushed his teeth for the night, placing his bag in the bottom drawer after he did. He changed into his pajamas carefully, taking the towel on one of the racks to hide his lower half under as he switched pants, taking his other clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

When Roman stepped out of the bathroom, Patton was leaning against a wall waiting for him. He smiled at Roman, but Roman still ran past him to get as far away as he could get. Patton didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. Roman shifted on his feet awkwardly before closing his door.

“Um…goodnight.” He finally said. Patton seemed satisfied with this.

“Goodnight, Roman.”

Roman finally closed the door to his bedroom, waiting until he heard the door on the other end of the hallway open and close. Almost immediately after, as if another force was controlling him, Roman started to tear the place apart.

He checked the charging ports in the walls, the lamp, under the bed’s covers and behind every piece of furniture. He stood on top of his suitcase to check the vents and took out all the drawers in the dresser. He punched the stuffed animals to see if he could feel wires, but he still couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find it.

Roman felt himself start to pant. He refused to go to bed until he found it. No matter how well hidden it was, Roman knew there was a camera in here. He couldn’t stop until he found it.

Roman grabbed the boxes at the top of the closet and tossed everything out of them, checking every spare blanket and binder before throwing them across the room when he found nothing. He took the hangers out of the closet and threw them on the floor, shining his phone light on the wall of the closet to find a hole. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Tears sprung into Roman’s eyes as he choked on his own breath. “Where the hell is it!?” He whispered, slamming the closet door closed and moving to check the bed. He tore the bedsheets off and checked the mattress, lifting it up as well to check the bed frame for anything that could be used to record. Nothing.

“Come on, please-” Roman took out the drawer from the bedside table. Nothing. He unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp, almost shattering it from his tight grip. Nothing. He threw the lamp onto the bed and kicked the nightstand over. Nothing.

Roman choked out a sob as his whole body started to shake. This wasn’t fair, he spent all that time trying to get away from his dad only to end up in a place that hid cameras better than him. Roman gripped the covers he’d thrown and punched the floor next to them, the ache being an almost pleasant distraction from his own head. But his mind continued to race and his crying didn’t let up. The only thing Roman could manage to get out of his mouth was “No, no!”

Then, between Roman’s sobbing, he heard a knock at the door.

Roman froze in place. A feeling of dread spread through his chest and made his fingers go numb. For a second, Roman forgot to breathe as he remembered he forgot to lock the door.

Roman’s body was stiff, but his mind was going a mile a minute in a desperate attempt to save himself. He could hide in the closet, but since he tore everything out of there, if someone opened the door they’d immediately find him. He could hide under the bed, but without the covers to reach the floor it was easy to see he was under there. Roman choked on his own breath when he realized there was nowhere to hide-

“Roman?” The knock came back to the door, gentler than the first time. It wasn’t Patton’s voice like Roman feared, it was Virgil. Raspy and tired-sounding, but without a doubt Virgil.

“Y-yeah?” Roman squeaked out.

“Uh, can I…can I come in?”

Roman’s death grip on the covers loosened up slightly. “Yes…”

Virgil slowly turned the doorknob and opened it, slipping in through the smallest crack and closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click. Once he was inside, Virgil’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the destroyed room. “…Holy shit dude.”

Roman tried to dodge the situation, “What do you want?”

“I was gonna come in here and make a joke, like, ‘quiet down it sounds like a tornado is going through here’, but now I think I predicted the fucking future.” Roman put his head down as Virgil looked around in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman wiped away his tears with the palm of his hands, digging into his eyes so hard he saw stars for a moment. “…There’s a camera in here.”

Virgil backed up more towards the door. “Wait, there is?” He darted his eyes around the room looking for what Roman was talking about. Roman let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s in here somewhere!” More tears went down Roman’s face as he hugged himself. Virgil seemed to realize what Roman was babbling on about. “I know Patton put a camera in here for me and I’m freaking out because I can’t find it!”

Virgil looked around at the mess again. He sighed. “I’m not good at this shit…you’re certain it’s in here?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey, don’t yell.” Virgil warned. “Pat and Logan are still asleep and I don’t think you’d like all that extra attention right now.”

He was right. If Logan and Patton came in here, Roman didn’t know what he’d do about it. It was the last thing he wanted, so Roman obeyed. “I just…I don’t know what to do…I can’t sleep until I find it.”

Virgil seemed to be thinking. He tugged on the neck of his pajama shirt before speaking. “How about we both make a deal?”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “…Deal?”

“We’ll trade rooms for the night. There wouldn’t be a camera in my room if he’s trying to watch you, right?”

Roman paused. “…What if he’s watching you too?”

“I’ve lived here for two years. You think I wouldn’t have noticed a camera in my room by now?”

Roman thought about it. He did have a point, it was hard to go that long without finding the camera. Or at least, have your guardian have it slip that they’ve been watching you. And anything was better than staying in this place.

“…We can trade. Thanks.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know where my room is. Just slip in and don’t wreck all my shit.”

Roman laughed a little bit at that one. Virgil grabbed the sheets and covers off the floor and began to remake the bed as Roman grabbed his backpack and started to slowly open the door. But before he left, Roman had to say one more thing for his own piece of mind. “…Don’t touch my suitcases. I-I’ll know if you do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “…I won’t.”

Roman opened the door and softly closed it behind him, slipping into the room next door covered in caution tape. He turned on the light and set his backpack down on the floor, looking around him at all the things that showed Virgil’s personality. Emo band posters covered the walls that were painted a dark purple, with dark wood furniture and Hot Topic decorations all over the place. Just looking at this room told him how angsty this kid was.

Roman shook it off and unzipped his backpack. He could deal with angsty decorations for the night, so long as this place could be safe from creeps. He took out his secret weapon from his backpack, something he secretly bought behind his aunt’s back with his babysitting money, the one item that made him feel secure in a home. He pulled out the security bar, locked Virgil’s door, and placed it under the door handle. Even if someone undid the lock, they wouldn’t be able to sneak inside while he was sleeping.

Roman’s heart calmed down a little for the first time in weeks. Even if it wasn’t much, he felt safe, maybe even safe enough to get some rest for once. Roman crawled into Virgil’s bed, covering himself in his very tasteful Jack Skellington covers, and tried to rest.

Roman’s hands still shook, and his head felt funny, but he eventually drifted off into a light sleep full of anxiety and nightmares.

[y0itsbri]

shameless summer series (s2 era) - based on this prompt posted by @ianandmickeygallavich & @shameless-notashamed ☀️📽️🍿

Mandy doesn’t know why the fuck Mickey is tagging along to her movie date with Ian. He says it’s because the cinema is air-conditioned. She doesn’t believe him, why would he sit through a romantic comedy just to keep cool? And she also doesn’t get why Ian sits in the middle of them.

words: 1.2k

"Ian, come on we're gonna be late!" Mandy yelled from the bottom of the steps outside the Gallagher's house.

"Jesus Christ, Mands, did you want the fuckin' Twizzlers or not?" Ian passed the threshold to the outside and smacked her shoulder with the candy before she smuggled them out of his grip.

"Thank you, boyfriend," she kissed his cheek as he scrunched up his nose at the affection -- especially in front of her brother, who looked onto their loving display amused before returning his gaze back down at the ground.

Mandy kicked Mickey in the shin.

"Ow- fuck! What?!"

"Be fuckin' nice, dickwad," she threateningly whispered.

If Ian was looking closely, he might have seen the tips of Mickey's ears blush red as he muttered a "'sup, Gallagher."

"Hey Mick," Ian smiled at him, unable to help himself.

"'m sorry my idiot brother decided to crash our date." Mandy apologized, emphasizing the last word and glaring at an unbothered Mickey. She led her boys down the side walk en route to the movie theater for the two o'clock showing they had been planning to see.

"Oh, did he now?" Ian teased, threatening to cross into Mickey's part of the sidewalk, but Mickey held his ground and dodged Ian's attempts to bump into him.

"It's hot as balls out and you know damn well Dad hasn't paid the AC in ages." Mickey pulled a piece of Mandy's hair from behind her.

"Bitch! Coulda went to wherever the fuck it is you normally terrorize," she swooped her hair to the front of her shoulders, out of Mickey-the-menace's reach.

"No AC."

"Whatever."

-

Ian caught the side door to the theater as a group of kids were exiting a movie. The three teenagers snuck in successfully.

"'ey Ian, ya want some popcorn? I was gonna get some."

"Uh, yeah, sure -- thanks Mickey," Ian grinned as Mickey turned away without another word.

"Shit! We're gonna miss the previews -- let's go!"

"What about Mickey?" Ian wondered.

"Uh, we'll save a seat? Duh? Do you have worm for brains?"

"Shut up," Ian shoved her and she giggled.

-

Mandy cuddled into Ian's side as they took some empty seats in the back of the theater. She loved spending time with her best friend, but why did her brother always have to cock block? Okay -- not that she was gonna get some, anyways, because Ian's fucking gay or whatever, but it's still the sentiment!

As the final previews ended, Mandy believed that Mickey would truly be a no show. She had no idea why he tagged along to see Perks of Being a Wallflower with them in the first place when she was pretty sure some movies with like fucking superheroes or battleships or some shit were on next door. He hasn't been soft enough to watch a romance movie in years -- especially in front of another guy. It just didn't add up.

She sighed as Mickey finally waltzed into the theater, two bags of popcorn in hand. Mandy picked up her purse from the seat next to her for Mickey to sit down, but he kept walking and plopped down on the other side of Ian. The fuck?

"Mick, I saved you a seat here," she whispered.

Mickey shook the bags of buttery puffs between himself and Ian, "Popcorn." He turned back towards the screen as if that justified everything. Whatever. Ian was still hers at least.

Ian moved his hand from Mandy's arm so he could eat his popcorn.

Motherfucker.

She gnawed on her Twizzlers.

-

Ian had a hard time focusing on the movie at first. Mickey was manspreading and his left thigh was pushing into Ian's -- hand-me-down athletic shorts touching worn denim.

Ian glanced over at Mickey just in time to see him tilt his head back, exposing his throat, and dump the contents of the popcorn bag into his mouth, spilling a few pieces.

Mickey gave him a side eye and cocked an eyebrow up, "See something ya like?"

"You're a messy eater."

"Says the guy with half his food on his chest." Ian looked down. Oh.

Before he could bring his hand up to brush it off, Mickey plucked off a piece of popcorn and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly while keeping eye contact with Ian. Motherfucker.

Ian was not about to be sporting a semi with fucking Emma Watson on screen and Mandy two inches to his left. He wasn't.

Mickey grinned and turned his focus back on the movie again.

-

Of course this movie would have a queer character that Mickey was both repulsed and drawn towards. Some things hit a little too close to home for comfort, okay?

Fuck.

He knew he was frozen and tense. He didn't expect anyone else to notice, but of course, fucking Ian was like an alien motherfucker always tuned into his frequency. He always knew.

Without looking at him, Ian cautiously placed his hand over Mickey's thigh. When Mickey didn't push away - in fact, he leaned into it, - Ian gently stroked his leg with his thumb in what he thought was a loving gesture. An I see you gesture. An it's okay gesture.

Maybe it would be okay.

-

Mandy started tearing up near the end of the movie, so Ian, in his perfect boyfriend role, wrapped his arm around her shoulders -- her face tucked into his chest. Her eyes were glued to the screen, so she didn't even notice that one of Ian's hands was dropped to the side of the seat and inched so close towards the edge, towards Mickey's seat -- so close, in fact, that the boys had been linking pinky fingers for the better part of the movie. Hidden in the dark of the theater. Their fingers had started sweating like half an hour ago, but neither of them could bring themselves to pull away just yet, savoring their little piece of forever in the grimy cinema. Some shit about we accept the love we think we deserve.

-

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom before we go, you guys gonna be fine by yourselves for a minute?"

"We'll see," Mickey muttered. Mandy frowned.

Ian clasped his hand over Mickey's shoulder, "He means we'll be fine."

Mickey flipped him off until Mandy was out of view and then dipped his head towards one of the theater doors, motioning for Ian to follow. The door didn't lead to another theater, but to a storage closet.

Before the door was even able to close all the way, Mickey frantically reached to pull down Ian's pants. Ian's brain worked slower than his dick as he managed to comprehend their current situation.

"Mick, we have like no time," Ian groaned into it, his feeble attempt to not get so turned on quickly failing.

"Imma make it quick, new personal best."

Ian's chuckle turned into a gasp. Okay, damn, maybe so.

Mickey's head rested on Ian's chest and Ian's head fell atop Mickey's, the scent of his hair gel mixed with him intoxicating his senses.

Motherfucker.

-

Mandy exited the bathroom, her company no where to be seen. She leaned against the pole, debating calling Ian or waiting another couple minutes. Sure enough, the boys came wandering over a few minutes later.

"Took ya long enough, where'd you run off to?"

"Uh, Ian wanted to look at the movie poster for, uh-"

"Battleship."

"Yeah, Battleship."

"Nerds," Mandy called, walking towards the exit. They were terrible liars. They all knew it. Whatever, they hadn't killed each other, that's all she cared about. She turned around to face the semi-stunned boys, "Coming?"

They headed back home in the sweltering sun, Mandy leading the group as always.

And if the two boys walked a little closer than before as Mandy turned a blind eye, that was nobody's business but theirs.

[swimmingleo]

Changes: or to take the higher ground before it's too late

I'm going to be real here folks, I cry ugly tears to this song. Bad.

Changes is a song on Cam's album "The Otherside". It's country, it's folk and it's an album a bit influenced by changes in Cam's life (a change of label, personal life). She collaborated with Harry on the song Changes, as she opened for him on a venue and was already working with Tyler Johnson.

From what I gathered: Harry sent her the demo of the song, implying he made most of the writing on this one. What I'm basing this claim on is her interview for Rolling Stones (read it here):

I heard [the demo] and was just like, “Oh, this ache to outgrow something that you don’t want to outgrow!” It felt so good. I normally don’t take outside songs [...]

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️when analysing this song, I'm gonna go from the idea of it being written with a queer mindset (how surprising of me). Cam rendered the song beautifully and it is very much her own, but I believe Harry's input is consequential. After all that's his lil whistle and cute fishsona in the MV.

Sad queer analysis ahead.

Let's analyse the lyrics first:

There is a town

Somewhere down a country road

The speaker describes the town to us, from memory, from experience. "There it is, down the road, can you picture it ?"

I see it now

I take it everywhere I go

The speaker doesn't currently live in the town, they're on the move (nice throwback to the coutry road). But despite all the travelling, they realize the sedentary smalltown never leaves them. It's part of them. It left a mark on them.

The river sways, I can almost hear it now

As if to say, "You're not the only one who wants a way out"

The town is so real to the speaker they can sense it, eyes and ears. But it gets a bit dark: the river sways like it's trying to leave its bed. The river is envious of the speaker who managed to leave. The town is so toxic even nature wants to get away from it. Or the speaker resents the town so bad that they project their own resentment on the river.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like I don't know you anymore

I memorize those roads

This is the call for the speaker to leave for good. Their motive doesn't seem to be ambitious or anything grand. They leave because they apprehend a feeling. Apprehending a feeling, something that may not even happen, is the way of an anxious person. Anxiety is the motive of their departure. However, they still memorize the roads leading to the town, just in case. Perhaps one day they'll come back.

Somewhere out in the big wild country

Someone's fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like their hearts won't ever break

Suddenly it's about love ! Young love, one that is lived in the small compartment of a car, somewhere hidden and safe in the big wild country. As if the countryside was unexplored and threatening.

God bless the young hearts sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with their friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

The speaker looks at the youth with tenderness, wishing them the best. But once again, they're not in the town in the present time, they don't see the youngsters fooling around, they can only guess from first-hand experience. And it's very specific: falling in love, getting drunk with friends and thinking everything's gonna be easy like that forever until it's not and heartbreak ensues.

From there I hop in with the raw queer theme of those lyrics. It started by falling in love and it ended up in a heartbreak. In between, the speaker got drunk for the first time with their friends, people they trusted enough to let go a little, but in the end everything changed. Why ? Alcohol makes you forget about code of conduct, how you're supposed to behave. It makes you say or do things you might not have done sober.

We can interprete this chorus as the beginning of the end for the speaker. It's the only part of the song evocating the past, and it's fun and easy, but it's also where things started to get bad the way they are in the present. Something might have happened that first time the speaker got drunk and it marked the end of innocence and careless childhood, and it probably has to do with love as no other factor is provided apart from falling in love and heartbreak.

They never leave

They're all havin' babies now

Watchin' daytime TV

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

They. With Harry, it's always You, Me, and They. They are having babies, all of them, like it's not a very difficult thing to do, it's just natural. They have the leisure of the day, not a thing to worry about, if not gossip. It's not implied anymore, the small town is downright cruel. Gossip fuels it, but on behalf of someone else, and that someone is most definitely the speaker who left and who describes its inhabitants in the most mundane way, perhaps with a hint of contempt. The speaker seems bitter.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like you don't know me anymore

Don't recognize my face

Reprise of the pre-chorus except now, the speaker provides another reason for their departure. Not only they feared they wouldn't know the town anymore, they also feared being seen as a stranger. It's not like the speaker actually changed physically: but it might as well feel like it. Again, apprehension, anguish. As implied in the chorus, things changed to the point where the speaker feels they would seem like a whole another person to the rest of the town, a stranger, a threat to the integrity of the conservatives. So they leave before this shift in perception can happen.

There ain't nothing here for me anymore

They say they don't hear from me anymore

And I don't wanna hear it anymore

The town is not outwardly hostile. It's still the town that saw the speaker as a kid. The town doesn't understand why the speaker left, but the speaker won't give in and get in touch. They want to be as far away as possible, until they don't hear the questions, the river, everything. It's almost like the speaker doesn't carry the town in their heart at all. They want to forget it all, and it hurts everytime the town tries to lure them back in. The way Cam sings it is painful to me man

Somewhere out in the big wild country

I was fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like my heart won't ever break

Had such a young heart sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with my friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

Yeah, just the confirmation of the chorus being the speaker's experience. I went ahead and assumed it was already lol but it's like a plot twist effect. It's dramatic. It's a personal song to someone.

TO MAKE IT SHORT to me this song is intense and very in touch with the queer experience. Though it describes a specific situation, it is surprisingly not that detailed or full of metaphors the way Harry often writes: this town could be literally any smalltown in the countryside. The backseat could be the one of any car, cheap wine is something any teen can afford. I like to think Harry wrote it for himself but is also aware so many people went through the same thing, and still will. I have to admit I'm heavily biased writing this, as the experience of a queer kid struggling to find their place in a well settled smalltown is familiar.

GETTING DRUNK AND QUEER IDENTITY is an analogy Harry already used in Fine Line when he sang "We'll get the drinks in so I'll get to thinking of her". To drink is to let go, to unveil the most subconscious aspects of yourself you might not want to deal with otherwise. You don't care about judgement and you get to explore those parts freely. In Changes, this is the last memory they recall before stating the changes and their departure. Perhaps getting drunk for the first time would be when they realized they're queer. Or acted upon it, causing their little world to shake. They chose to leave before it eventually wouldn't feel like a choice anymore. There is no life for people like them in a cruel smalltown.

SMALLTOWN BOY

This song reminds me an awful lot of Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat. The song is about a queer boy having to leave the smalltown where he grew up because of persecutions and no future prospects.

Mother will never understand why you had to leave, Smalltown Boy

They say they don't hear from me anymore, Changes

But the answers you seek will never be found at home, the love that you need will never be found at home

There is nothing here for me anymore

Other people not understanding why they leave. People who can't truly empathize even when they mean no harm. They would never understand the speaker's departure, because those people get to find love and have babies and live a peaceful life in the countryside.

You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

Yeah yeah. I really struggle with just seeing this song as nostalgia when such harsh words are being used. I do believe there is a part of fondness for that town, that countryside setting and the early days. But it's not all tender memories.

CHANGES AND ERODA

Of couuuurse we all noticed the adorable purple fish with the pearl necklace. It represents Harry, no question, as it whistles Harry's part. And of couuuuurse we all made the link with the erodian fish, and some even noticed they formed the bluegreener pair when their colors are inverted.

It makes sense for those fishes to be connected with this interpretation of Changes. Both works are about a small town, lost in the nature, where the people are watching, aware of everything that isn't normal, that is peculiar. The early life of the peculiar boy is similar in every way to the early life of the speaker in Changes. The fish in Adore You grows too big for the island and has to leave, and though Eroda makes amends with the peculiar boy, he leaves as well because his future, his fulfilment, is somewhere else. So does the speaker in Changes.

IN CONCLUSION

The more I write posts like this, the more endeared I am by Harry's world. How Harry writes for himself, but also for other people with songs like this. How nature finds its way in all that he does. How grounded he is, how he doesn't seem to forget where he came from. It really is such a rare thing to see in a mainstream popstar's writing and art. How can someone say he sold his soul to LA is beyond me

[brlankinney]

✨a long awaited michael hate list✨

last year during the first lockdown i decided to rewatch queer as folk again after a few years break from the show. michael has always been one of my least favourite characters and i just needed to rant about how annoying he is, so i have compiled a list of his worst moments. you’re welcome. i wrote all these in my notes app while watching and you will get them without any editing whatsoever. in chronological order: 

s01e03 when justin turns up at woodys to find brian and michael yells at brian because he doesn’t want to babysit. while justin is talking to debbie!!! justin is just a young gay teen trying to fit in and michael is go angy? fuck off you piece of shit 

s01e04 “this is about brian’s one night stand!” / “not just one” / “don’t bet on it”...... my dude.... my good dude michael..... i am pretty sure justin knows more about his own sex life than you do

s01e04 “unfortunately not this one” referring to justin when they were talking about the high suicide rates with gay teens.... michael was so jealous of a guy who had sex with brian that he was annoyed that he wasn’t feeling suicidal? cant relate 

s01e10 when justin moved in at debbie’s place, getting michael’s old bedroom. why was he so annoyed? you’re a grown man, just turned 30 and that bedroom still has all your childhood things in it? grow the fuck up you childish man baby!!!!! 

s01e17? when david and michael held the fundraiser for that senator and michael purposely didn’t invite any of his friends/family because he found them “embarrassing”, then porceeded to yell at his mum when they showed up anyway. the entire storyline of him feeling like he was sooo much better than all of them because he had been to france and got expensive stuff from david? horrible horrible man 

s02e06 saying the only reason brian spends time with justin is because he feels guilty that justin was attacked. it’s almost like he doesn’t know his best friend? what a surprise!!! 

s02e12? getting angry that brian and ben fucked at the white party long before michael even knew ben? brian had sex with everybody how did michael expect to find someone who hadnt fucked brian already? and why are you angry over your partner’s sexual history from before you even knew them? 

s03e01 getting angry at justin for breaking up with brian (which is what he wanted to happen since fucking day 1) and then telling him that he isn’t part of the friendgroup anymore, as if they only tolerated him as long as he was with brian. fuck youuuuuu!!!!! honestly just the ENTIRE episode? upset that justin came to mel and lindsay’s party and that he brought ethan? it’s not your party! you don’t decide who is invited! SAYING BRIAN SHOULD HAVE LEFT JUSTIN DYING ON THE GROUND? literally just scum of the earth!! even if it was just because he was upset on brian’s behalf that should have never even crossed his mind!!!! 

s03e04, he knew what kind of father brian was to gus so why was he so angry at the way melanie and lindsay wanted him to be a father to their next child? he would be the sperm donor and the child’s dad but he wouldn’t be part of the kid’s life more than brian was in gus’ life? how is that so hard to get? it’s not YOUR child? get your own if you want to be an actual dad???? 

s03e07? getting so pissed that ben didn’t want to include him in his HIV-positive life that he “threatened” to infect himself? show some support for your boyfriend instead maybe? what kind of weird move is it to almost stab yourself with a used needle? i totally get what he was trying to do but it’s a fucked up way of going about it 

s03e08, while i dont completely agree with ben taking in hunter from the start and letting him spend the night (which probably has more to do with me being a woman who would have trouble defending herself in case anything should happen), the way michael acted as if hunter didn’t deserve any compassion was.. really bad? he even rolled his eyes when ben gave hunter money and a contact number for them that he could keep. hunter was a CHILD on the street, selling his body for money!!! how are you not more concerned!!!

bouncing off of that s03e10 why is michael getting angry that ben wants to care for this child!! he was in the fucking hospital and i get that now it’s a money problem but you are not listening to your partner? you are talking over him and not trying to come up with another solution to help care for this child!!!! i am FURIOUS 

s04e08 convincing justin that they shouldnt mention to brian that they were aware that he had cancer and had the sugery, but then breaking down the first chance he gets and crying to brian about it? first of, this is NOT about you michael so sit your ass down!! and second of, i get that he was scared of losing brian but at least give justin a heads up that he told brian?? that’s the absolute least he could have done 

THE ENTIRE FIFTH SEASON!!!! michael needed to SHUT UP about melanie and lindsay’s relationship problems in relation to jr because guess what? you’re not the primary parent, this doesn’t concern you! you were the sperm donor who was lucky enough to still be called the dad and be part of jr’s life!!!! shut up about how the baby lives in a broken home and how you want the baby? she’s not yours!!!!!! what is your PROBLEM!!! i will fist fight you

both him and debbie kept saying “whatever goes on between you [mel and linds] it doesn’t matter, the baby comes first”. don’t you think parents living seperately are better than parents living together but fighing all the time? the entire thing makes me so ANGRY 

i MEAN the way michael thinks he is entitled to all information about lindsay and melanie’s relationship just because he was the sperm donor to their baby? insanity 

“why won’t you let me have her?” GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP MICHAEL 

s05e04 i get that michael might have been embarassed at the “housewarming” gift that brian got them and also at the word choices that brian makes but come on? monty and whoever started out by insulting not only the way brian chooses to live his own life but also his business? it’s a civil conversation and yeah brian could have used less harsh words but brian’s lifestyle isn’t new to other people? not even people outside of his small social group? let him live his own life and also let him defend his choices

e05e07 like i get it okay? brian came in late at night and shouted and blamed michael for his and justin’s breakup so of course michael would be annoyed but the way he said “he [justin] left because of YOU. who wouldn’t?” was completely uncalled for? it just really fucking bugs me? this is your best friend who is CLEARLY going through a bad breakup so maybe choose your words more carefully? MAYBE have some compassion just maybe? 

when hunter left in season 5 and michael said “who else would have taken him in? made him family?” WHY WOULD YOU EVER SAY THAT ABOUT YOUR CHILD!!! WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT michael really thinks he is the absolute shit and deserves the world for doing the smallest thing? 

going through the show again really just fleshed out how fucking bad of a person he could be from time to time wow whats YOUR worst michael moment????

[thevalleyisjolly]

Ok, I’ve rewritten this post several times because I really want this to be a productive and respectful discussion, but this is a conversation that does need to be started.  I’ve been thinking about the whole cultural appropriation story line in this season of The Unsleeping City so far, and of course I think it’s great that Cody is starting to realize why that’s wrong and that Murph is making it explicitly clear that it is wrong, but I want to reorient the conversation away from Cody now and talk about Ricky as a Japanese-American character.

Because when Zac went “Just to paint a picture for you...” during the museum fight episode, there was quite a bit of surprise from non-Asian people in the fandom that this was really a serious issue, and one that Ricky would be bothered by or speak up about.  But why wouldn’t he?  I mean, the character is Japanese-American, and so is the player.  Doesn’t it make perfect sense that he would at least be a little bothered by a white person appropriating Japanese culture?  Asian fans certainly noticed and pointed it out before that episode aired.  Ricky/Zac certainly noticed - go back through the episodes and observe how every time Cody pulled out a kunai or threw a shuriken, Ricky was cringing or facepalming with an uncomfortable laugh.  Even with seven different camera perspectives to watch at the same time, it should have been pretty clear in the fandom that this was an ongoing issue that would bother and was bothering Ricky.

And I think there are several different facets to this, but the one I want to address is how there’s a tendency in fandom to ignore or erase Ricky’s Japanese heritage.  Not literally (although there is a particular sting every time I see another Ricky fancast where the actor is of another Asian heritage than Japanese - Asian people are not interchangeable).  But especially prior to Season 2, there was a general trend in the fandom that liked to simplify Ricky’s character and overlook him as a complex player character because of traits that are very common in East Asian immigrant cultures.

Perhaps it’s because my heritage is East Asian and I’ve had more exposure to general cultural customs and behaviours among East Asian immigrants, but Zac’s portrayal of Ricky has always read as a very obvious Asian-American child of immigrants to me (and, y’know, Zac and Ricky are actually Asian-American children of immigrants).  Not expressing negative emotions out loud, not verbally articulating thoughts and feelings but expressing them through actions, deferring to other peoples’ needs first instead of expressing his own wants because it’s not about him.  With the caveat that I’m Chinese and not Japanese, these are common practices that I’ve observed in my own family, among friends and acquaintances (of various Asian heritages including but not limited to Chinese), in broader experiences with other East Asian immigrants.

(Asia is not a monolith and I’m not familiar with the immigrant cultures and experiences of people from other Asian heritages.  I specify East Asian here because that is broadly what I can speak on and because Ricky is Japanese, but other Asian people please feel free to discuss your experiences as well)

And obviously, these are not monolith traits observed at all times, I’ve definitely met plenty of East Asian immigrants who did express their emotions loudly, who used their words, who were assertive about their own needs and wants (this is not the post to be getting into different generations of immigration and the culture differences between those generations).  And it also depends on the context - from my own experience, in private within families, both emotions and words can get extremely loud (if you dare to risk the wrath of your elders by arguing with them!)  But my point is that the habits I pointed out above are still relatively common in East Asian immigrant cultures, even if not all individuals follow them at all times.

Particularly prior to Season 2, there was a common perspective in the fandom, usually couched in “uwu, I love that Zac is playing a hot dummy!!” that would go along the lines of “Ricky doesn’t have a character arc, he doesn’t get into conflicts with other people, he doesn’t say anything and is just happy to be there, he’s a shallow character who’s just a himbo.”  All of which I’d dispute, (*insert post here about Ricky as a character reclaiming Asian masculinity*), but I want to focus on how the main traits -refraining from overt emotions, remaining reserved in speech, not bringing up his own needs and wants- that were brought up and used to simplify and dismiss Ricky’s character were traits which are commonly found in East Asian immigrant communities.  The whole “remaining reserved/trying to avoid conflict” is something a lot of East Asian-American kids pick up at home because what you say or don’t say isn’t as important as what you do or don’t do.

And I mean, so much of Ricky is about doing things for people, showing his feelings through his actions, not his words.  Just because he wasn’t getting into PC conflict in Season 1, or expressing his emotions in the same ways as other PCs, doesn’t mean he was just a silent, cheerful himbo.  Which there’s nothing wrong with being a himbo, and it can be particularly empowering in Ricky’s case as an Asian man (see above linked post about Asian masculinity), but that’s not all there is to Ricky’s character!  And don’t get me wrong, I personally love that part of his ongoing character arc in Season 2 is speaking up about his feelings and expressing to other people what he wants (because there’s the “American” part of the Asian-American experience that’s not just about having Asian heritage but is also about negotiating that relationship in a place with different norms and customs).  But it doesn’t negate the “Asian” part of “Asian-American” either, which does impact and shape the way Ricky interacts with people and the world.

In hindsight, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that interest and meta in Ricky skyrocketed once he did start being more vocal and assertive in Season 2, which are common traits in many Western cultures.  And it’s not the only reason that there’s a deeper interest in Ricky now (shout out to all the Asian fans and allies who’ve been really diving into Ricky’s character this season!) and I choose to believe in good faith that it isn’t intentional or malicious (audiences do tend to gravitate more towards tangible moments of conversation and conflict rather than background acting).  But I think we as fans need to start questioning why as a whole, we really didn’t start giving deeper thought to Ricky until he began displaying more typically Western traits, because I think it’s emblematic of how, very subtly and unconsciously, we are used to privileging white “American” behaviour and ignoring or glossing over Asian (immigrant) traits.

In many ways, Ricky prior to Season 2 (and very arguably up until the museum fight), has been perceived in the general fandom as a sort of post-racial American-melting-pot character.  Fans don’t wholly ignore that he’s Japanese-American, you can’t really do that when his family name is “Matsui” and when the Season 1 finale showed that his interactions with the American Dream pretty strongly involved his parents’ immigrant experience.  But knowing intellectually that Ricky is Asian doesn’t always translate to actually perceiving him as an Asian person with all the implications and racial dynamics that entails.

An example of how this manifests: Ricky and Esther become a canon couple.  Numerous posts begin to appear (and periodically still do) that express opinions along the lines of Ricky/Esther being the only tolerable “het” couple.  Ignoring the fact that we don’t know Esther’s sexuality and we only have an offhand Ztream comment for Ricky, Ricky/Esther is a canonical interracial relationship between two non-white people, a Japanese man and a black woman.  Interracial relationships are already extremely poorly represented in media, to say nothing of interracial relationships between non-white people.   Yet we overlook the racial dynamics and only focus on the perceived queerness (or not) of the ship.

Or, for another example, taking the discussion on cultural appropriation and making it all about Cody’s flaws and character development, rather than considering how it affects Ricky as a Japanese man to see a white man disrespecting a part of his cultural heritage.

Anyways, I really urge D20 fans, especially if you’re not Asian, to start questioning and challenging how you really perceive characters, what kind of characteristics you tend to privilege and be drawn to and why, and what kind of fandom environment you shape in your interactions with the show and with other fans.  This is not to say that Ricky should be everyone’s favourite character or that you can’t dislike him, but it is important to think about why we have the preferences that we do.  I especially urge you to remember that Ricky Matsui is a Japanese-American character, that this was a deliberate choice which has been repeatedly brought up by Zac (who is a Japanese-American actor), and that you cannot and should not ignore Ricky’s heritage when you think and talk about him. 

(And if you think Ricky is being an “asshole” to Cody just for being, frankly, mildly perturbed in his direction because Cody spent most of the season so far being very offensive to Ricky’s cultural heritage, I really encourage you to think critically about your opinions and why you hold them.  And if, after thinking critically, you still don’t see why they’re wrong, please don’t let the door hit you on the way out.  Your conscious racism is not something that is welcome in this fandom, and Asian fans are not here to teach you better)

((White and non-Asian people can and should reblog this, but don’t clown around.  Productive, respectful discussion is welcome.  Asian fans are more than welcome to add their perspectives/agree/disagree, especially people with Japanese heritage))

[wagner-fell]

I am still very new to this website and I don’t know how link a post but this fic is based on a post by @sandersgrey

(If someone reading this knows how to link a post please either explain it to me or link it in the comments because that post is *amazing*)

“Hmmm,” said Tessa, depositing Mina into Kit’s waiting arms and examining her buzzing phone critically. She shot a quizzical look in his direction.

Jem looked up from his novel. “What is ‘hmmm’, my love?”

Kit mimed vomiting but stopped dead in his tracks when she replied, “it’s Astrid’s mother. You remember her from parent teacher night, don’t you, my darling?” Kit swears they were being extra insufferable just to mess with him but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed when Astrid’s. Mom. Was. Calling. Tessa.

To understand why Kit was panicking as much as he was, you must know that Astrid’s mom was incredibly chill. She never got mad. The worst punishment she’d ever given her daughter was taking away her iPod for a week so she couldn’t listen to Mitski.

Was she calling about last night when Astrid, Mari and Kit threw eggs at the Shadowhunter’s that were giving Mari’s pack a hard time for no reason? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d given them the eggs.

Could the call be about the day before yesterday when Kit and Astrid got distracted doing homework and ended up snapping the coffee table clean in half while battling gladiator style with pool noodles? No, that wasn’t it. She’d just handed Astrid a twenty and told them to go to Kevin’s parents' shop and get a new one. Was she pissed because they ended up spending the money on ice cream instead? No, they ended up finding a table for free in the rubbing bin outside a fancy hotel.

Kit clutched his sister to his chest and prepared for the worst.

“Seo-yoon! What can I do for- Oh, hello Astrid!” Tessa paused briefly, presumably to listen to Astrid speak, and Kit sighed in relief.

“Kit is occupied at the moment but I can relay the message.” Another pause. “Oh don’t be frightened of me. I’m a tots rad mom. Your secret is safe with me.” Kit felt his face flush red as he heard his best friend’s laughter echo across the living room. “Okay! I’ll let him know. He has to get Mina to sleep before he can leave though. Lord knows he’s the only one who can these days.” Tessa chuckled at something Astrid said before wishing her good luck in her endeavour and ending the call.

She turned her attention back to Kit. “Astrid needs your help breaking into your teacher’s home to retrieve her cell phone.”

Kit blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You aren’t mad I’m going to go break the law?”

Because of course he was doing it. Astrid’s dad had bought it for her and he was extremely cautious about money. That was one of three things Kit knew about her dad. He was cheap, he lived in America and he loved the movie Fight Club.

Tessa ruffled Kit’s hair affectionately. “Please. I’ve raised two other Herondales. At least I know about this particular adventure beforehand.”

Mina began snoring softly and Kit handed her back to her mother. He grabbed his bag and started his journey to the door when Tessa added, “she also told me to say hi to a ‘daddy Kit’. Are you ‘daddy Kit?’”

‘Daddy Kit’ closed his eyes and wished for the sweet release of death.

“Why is Kit a daddy,” Jem asked, genuinely confused. “Aren’t I the daddy?”

Kit swung the door open so fast not even a speed rune could have aided him. But not before I heard Tessa reply, “Lily Chen certainly thinks so.”

Mrs. MacNamara clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go around and say a few things about ourselves?”

Kit buried his face into his hands. He’d been relieved when no other teacher had fulfilled the Disney channel stereotype of making every student introduce themselves to the new kid. But Mrs. MacNamara didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing.

All Kit’s fellow classmates groan. Expect one. Her hand shot up immediately. She was short, like smaller than Clary short. She wore a baggy pink shirt with the words ‘Queen Glimmer of Etheria’ sewed on with purple sequins and tight black jeans. Her colourful, choppy hair was in a low ponytail and she flew a few strands out of her eyes as her hand wiggled in the hair.

Mrs. MacNamara pointed at her. She stood up and smiled at Kit. “Hi. My name is Astrid. My hobbies include making my little cousin’s girl Barbies kiss, as it should be, and watching television shows where everyone is a terrible person so you can love all of them!”

“And what shows might that be?” asked Kit, already in the process of pulling out his phone and opening the Notes app.

“Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy again because it’s seventeen seasons as of right now. And to be fair it practically became a different show when they killed off Mark Sloan.”

“That’s enough, Miss Yang,” said Mrs. MacNamara. Astrid sat down and winked at Kit. Then she took out her phone and airdropped him a complete list of all her favorite shows, along with her number.

After Blessica’s pre-birthday birthday party, they went to Cirenworth and stayed up till four A.M. binging them.

They met outside a queer dry bar called Aries Not Welcome, the unspoken gathering place of the Merry Hoes. It was run by a poly lesbian couple in their mid-thirties. Quinn, Sydney and Aliyah may not have served alcohol but at least they were open 24/7.

“Did you bring the shit?”

Kit gave her a look. “The shit? How conclusive.”

“Shut up. You know, the shadowhunter thing.”

“The shadowhunter thing?”

“The, the, the glow stick that you draw with.”

“The glow stick that I draw wi-“ Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Do you mean a stele?”

Astrid snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” Kit shook his head in exasperation, smiling fondly. “I borrowed a torch from Quinn, let’s move.”

“Should I be worried that you know where Mr. Smith lives?” questioned Kit as he followed Astrid’s lead through the park.

“Should I be worried that your mom was fine with us breaking and entering?” she shot back playfully. Kit pushed Astrid and she fell off the path, laughing all the way.

“You called me ‘daddy’ to my mom’s face.”

She just laughed harder, slinging her arm around Kit’s shoulder. “It was over the phone, Christopher. And as I should.”

“Pffffttt. Why did you get your phone taken anyway?” She put her hands into her jumper pocket and looked at the ground. “Astrid.” She remained silent. “Astrid?”

She mumbled something under her breath. “What?” asked Kit.

“I WAS READING NINEJ FANFICTION!” she shouted.

Kit gasped. “I thought you were a die hard Kanej shipper,” he whispered.

“I’m a multishipper, okay?!” she replied, equally quiet.

“Does Blessica know?”

She shook her head. “And she will never find out.”

Kit saw the opportunity and he seized it. “She’ll never find out as long as you never call me daddy in front of either of my parents.”

She removed her arm from his shoulder and guided them out of the park, in the direction of the many apartments that lined this side of town. “I hate you.”

“Well, so does Mari. You're not special, Ast.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Mari doesn’t actually hate you, right?! They’re just still in the enemy phase of your enemies-to-lovers romance. She only dislikes you because they feel something for you but they don’t know what so she interrupts it as loathing. In reality, her inner soul knows you’re hot and shmexie.”

Kit didn’t know how to process this so he just nodded and follow Astrid in silence to Mr. Smith’s house. (Plus, he was kinda glad that, according to his best friend, he had a little more time for Mari to ‘discover their true feelings’. If Kit screwed this up, he was out of countries to run off to.)

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What,” asked Kit, turning around to face Astrid and closing the drawer he was rifling through. “Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah. But I also found Blessica’s. She was Snapping Kevin. Platonic my ass. But he took the fucking trans flag out of her phone!”

Kit snatched Blessica’s phone out of her hand to examine it for herself. She was telling the truth. Where the glitter pride flag usually rested was just a clear purple case. Kit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“It’s one thing to misgender her every day.” Blessica had forced all four of the other Merry Hoes to sign a contract saying they wouldn’t do anything to harm him because of it. “But this is the last straw. You know what we have to do.” Oops.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any spray paint.”

Kit eyed Mr. Smith’s pink sofa, blue bar stool covers and white picture frames. “I think I have something better in mind.”

It would have been easier for both parties to just zip off the sofa cushions and tape them to the wall but by ripping them off in strips, they ensured he would have to buy new ones. And judging by the car he drove and the fiji water in his fridge, Mr. Smith could definitely afford it.

That reminded him, “I’ll finish up with this. Go put all his fiji water into my bag.” Astrid saluted him and ran off. “Wait.” She stopped and looked at him. “Steal all the remotes you can find.”

“How is he not awake?,” asked Astrid as they ripped the fabric of his seating from the stool.

He shrugged. “Don’t question it.” He shoved the bundle of cloth into her arms. “Glue this above the pink. I’ll handle the frames.”

“Say the magic word,” she sang.

“Please?”

“No. Lesbian. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Kit laughed quietly. “Can you lesbian glue this above the pink?”

She grinned at Kit. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! Sorry I haven’t written anything in so long. School just restarted and it has been…a lot.

@adoravel-fenomeno @thechangeling @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @maxboythedog @book-dragon-not-worm @hardlymatters

Very sorry if I forgot anyone. Lmk if you want to be addEd/removEd from the tag list.