#that’s actually so wild one of the only people left is the gay doctor from the 2004 bathroom

[zer0point5ive]

[masterzmei]

⟨Jon Moxley. Trans male. he/him. 45.⟩ We just saw Zmei Lazarevich entering Haymann’s Distillery. I heard through the grapevine that they are a Sports Writer and Combat Sports Commentator and sometimes go by Koschei the Deathless. Although he is with the media, he can sometimes be envious, demanding, or even belligerent but I’ve also heard some people say that they were (begrudgingly) fatherly, objective and quite disciplined.— Moss. they/them. 23. EST. violence against children (<10)

AESTHETIC | MUSIC | ASK | LONDON FALLING

[sideblog of kingbriar]

STATS

Real name: Zmei Lazarevich [Dead name: Yekaterina]

Code name: Koschei

Alliance: None (could be bought)

Job: former Prizefighter (Heavyweight Boxing champ/No-Gi Grappling & BJJ NAGA champ/etc) and Olympic Boxing Coach, current Sports Writer and Combat Sports Commentator

Age: 45

Physical: 6', 225 lbs

Birthplace: Podolsk, Russia

DOB: December 10, 1978

Star sign: Saggitarius

Gender: Trans Male (he/him)

Sexuality: Demisexual, Biromantic

FC: Jon Moxley

BIOGRAPHY

Second child from a blue collar family on the fringes of Podolsk, both parents worked factory jobs (mother only part time to manage children). Occasionally watched by a neighbor, an unmarried doctor that worked nights and was the first to make some offhand mention of the “mental illness” that led to homosexuality or people believing themselves to be “the wrong gender” and how they were “treated”. He disappeared from his apartment without a trace when Zmei was 10. To this day Zmei thinks about whether that man was gay and trying to help a fellow queer, or was just trying to correct him early.

Factories had been shutting down or laying off mass amounts of workers already as the union fought about 8 wars with itself, but shut down quickly after Communism and the Soviet Union officially fell in 1991. The family was left scrambling. Zmei was 13.

Scrappy kid needs money? Prizefighting is easy to fall into with so many laid off, angry men looking for an excuse to beat someone up. Zmei starts spending more time focusing on strength and technique, and blue collar Russians are Riddled with machismo and unattainable ideas of masculinity. This does not help the transness, especially with having to “pose as a boy” for safety. 

Rising tension within his family and himself pushed Zmei to run away at 16 with some badly forged paperwork and a dream to one of the new democratic states. Moldova was still largely disorganized, and he was able to get some better, if still inconsistent refugee documentation, but it used the name Zmei and listed him as male. He bounced around continental europe a bit before landing in the UK at 18 (1996), where he is able to officially start to medically transition in ‘96-97 (T, Reassignment Surgery, etc) with NHS access

Instead of purely doing illegal prizefighting, Zmei discovers unsanctioned death matches on the Indie wrestling circuit (turns out, gender is stored in a Crimson Mask and a broom wrapped in barbed wire), and various coaches try to take this kid with a lot of Survival Skills in for actual training in a range of styles (Boxing, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu/Submission Grappling, etc) to build technique  so he isn’t so reliant on weapons and blood in matches 

After training for a while, he signs up for a beginner NAGA tournament and does much better than expected, which sparks a Deep competitiveness in him. Focusing in on one title, medal or belt at a time, he trains right with single mindedness and deadly focus that gives him a real sense of calm. Winning is  almost addictive, training almost to the breaking point then collecting a new trophy and starting over again, collecting local/national recognition in both boxing and grappling. A lot of his money still comes from being a punk indie wrestler who’s always willing to bleed or do a wild stipulation match for cash and collecting extra from all the people who bet against him.

In 2015, Zmei was competing in a Master Expert Super-Heavyweight No-Gi NAGA championship, and was put into a deadly knee lock for nearly two minutes. He refused to tap, and eventually was able to power out of it when his opponent tried to shift his grip and win the round by pinfall before collapsing. Forcing his way out of the lock had fractured his patella and pieces of his upper tibia, leading to irreparable damage to both ACL and MCL tendons. To this day, Zmei uses a cane when walking/standing for more than a couple minutes, but he DID. NOT. TAP.

Zmei’s more surprised than anything when he’s contacted by the Underdog’s parents about coaching their son for the upcoming Olympics, then realizes he’s accumulated more practice and skill along with titles and credits than he’d realized and after his injury has gained decent renown in British Combat Sports. Besides, it’s boxing, so as long as he can correct Kaan’s footwork, his coaching doesn’t require his knees to be in top shape.

The fallout of the Embezzlement Scheme hits him hard, especially when people start to investigate to see if he was involved at all, and it suddenly looks Very Suspicious that his immigration paperwork doesn't line up after he technically immigrated illegally to avoid persecution for being queer in post-soviet Russia. The fall from grace isn’t pretty, and he’s messily outed to the public.

He handles it as well as he can. Stays in sports, but tries to disappear a bit, facelessly scripting for the anchors who are actually seen on TV and writing weekly sports columns for the paper. But words are hard and he misses his people, misses the rush of a good match and the infectious primal energy of watching someone bleed. On his own time, he starts guest commentating on indie wrestling shows, which slowly leads back to his old home: illegal dark matches in a seedy basement or old warehouse. Seeing himself in a lot of the scrappy kids trying to make a name for themselves, he starts to coach again, then eventually gets tied up in booking; matching up pure boxing/BJJ/etc if fighters want, but reminding fighters that the audience wants/spends more money on bloodsport.

Despite the state of his knee, training with the wide variety fighters in the underground circuits keeps him sharp. If he wanted, he could absolutely kill a man seven different ways with his cane, standing on one leg. He hopes he won’t have to.

OTHER NOTES

Zmei - name comes from dragons in Russian folklore. Sometimes they are male or female, purely multi-headed serpents or humanoid, and generally very mutable. Trans dragon name. 

Mans whole torso is Covered in various scars, especially from barbed wire, glass, thumbtacks, the Forks™️ etc in death matches. He’s a lil too proud of how well his top surgery scars blend in with the rest, esp 20ish years later

Potential Connections: 

 Underdog - Mr. Miyagi type vibe? once and future coach? They find each other again in illegal fights a couple years later and reconnect?

Tower/Combat types - Fights are always open, grinder needs meat and he’s willing to help them beef up 

Gang Leaders - Zmei is many things, but Rich isn’t one. If needed, this old master could be hired by either gang, or even the govt strike team for the right financial compensation.

Doctors - Mans is chronically in pain from something, whether that’s his knee, a back that’s taken too many bumps, etc or just checking in on his dosage of T that he’s been on for about 20 years.

Casino folks/Gamblers - It's a low form of entertainment, but gladiatorial combat is lucrative. Is the Red Rose casino looking for a business deal? Are they trying to shut this gambling den down, or completely neutral to a Neutral party?

[fiyr-cap]

The Great OC Alphabet Caper: B

Baku Melanchly

Haven’t drawn her in a long time myself so instead I humbly offer this drawing done by the lovely and extremely talented waifujuju

WIP: Cyprus Hollow

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 16-17

Physical Description: Very Short. Looks like she could be 12. She always wears her lucky green bandana and generally wears shorts and sleeveless shirts. She has boyish short blond hair and blue eyes.

Abilities: Stealing, sword fighting, lightning magic, speedy

Defining Traits: She will punch you in the face if you annoy her. She will also punch you in the face if you do not annoy her. She is best friends with Ara and is highly protective of her. When she is not aggressive she is energetic and likes to go on adventures, especially if those adventures involve treasure.

Extra: Is surprisingly good at cooking

Bowman Albech

WIP(s): various

Pronouns: He/Him 

Age: 17 (actually 400+ but he’s trapped in his 17-year-old body)

Physical Description: His most striking quality is his bright red hair. Otherwise he’s not particularly remarkable. He’s relatively good-looking. His eyes are green and often described as having an unusual depth to them, like one much older than his years. He’s a bit on the small side, which he resents greatly. Generally dresses like a gay 70 year old literature professor.

Abilities: Encyclopedic knowledge of all things related to crime-solving, enchanting magic

Defining Traits: Most people who meet Bowman will describe him first and foremost as smart. This is not inaccurate but he does have his moments. He can be awkward at times, socially, but most of the time he comes across as quite likeable. Capable and responsible. Can be a bit reserved at times. Others he’s just stressed and done with it all. Tends to hold himself apart from others due to having known so many people over the course of his rather long life and feels a bit disconnected.

Excerpt:

Leroy: “I see. Well, to be honest, Doctor, I’m not sure that’ll be necessary. After all, from what I understand the only ones with access to the victim are these three here. I hardly think the kids murdered him. I’ll do a quick check of the premises to see if it was possible someone from the outside entered, but I think it unlikely.” Dr Juca: “But, Mr Pomar was, by all accounts, quite healthy.” Leroy: “Still, these things happen-” Bowman: “...his mouth smells of almonds.” Leroy: “Sorry, what?” Bowman: “And the color of his skin is pink. Pinker than normal.” Dr Juca: “Oh, that’s…” Bowman: “Symptoms of cyanide poisoning.”

Borden of Alabaster Island

WIP: Twin Realms

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: around 38

Physical Description: Has black hair and a black beard. His left arm is a mechanical prosthetic (with a cannon in it). He’s not particularly tall, but is built sturdy and broad, with a lot of power in his frame.

Abilities: Very good with machines, Fights with his mechanical cannon arm

Defining Traits: Morally comes across as a bit of a wild card at times. Although he’s something like a pirate, he’ll take responsibility for his own actions and will look after his own. He respects people who stick to their ground. He is energetic and lively, and likes a good challenge. Underneath that cheerful exterior though he has a strong vengeful streak. It’s best not to make him angry. 

Excerpt:

    “Hey. Hey, come on now. Wake up.”     Cyrus slowly opened his eyes. He realized he must have blacked out for a moment. He was lying on the ground somewhere dark. Above him, the face of the dungeon raider who’d grabbed him filled his vision. The man grinned at him with lively amusement in his eyes.     “There you are, skinny rabbit. Was worried you’d gone and died on us.” The big man gave a laugh.     He was perhaps nearing to forty years old, with sharp facial features and a crooked nose. He had a thick black beard and short-cropped jet-black hair. When he stood, Cyrus became aware suddenly that the hard metal thing he’d felt earlier had been the man’s left arm. Where his left arm should have been, instead there was a black metal prosthetic. It hummed faintly with raidon energy, a yellow power line running down its length.     “Come on, up on your feet,” the dungeon raider said. “I’d rather not have to carry you the whole time.” Giving Cyrus little time to gawk, he grabbed him by the neck of his robes and lifted him up. Cyrus stumbled, trying to regain his feet awkwardly.     “I can walk,” he stammered out quickly.     The man nodded, looking him up and down. “You hardly look it,” he said, but not unkindly. “Well, you’re here with us now, sun priest. You understand the situation right? Do as your told and you won’t get hurt. When we’ve got our loot, we’ll return you back to your island, safe and sound. I’m a man of my word.”

[el-im]

ok no one cares but i am once again thinking about how andrew j. robinson’s writing in a stitch in time fundamentally changed the the way i’ve come to view garak and how i interpret the “Of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't?” / "My dear Doctor, they're all true." / "Even the lies?" / "Especially the lies.” interaction from the wire (which initially i was very thrown off by). by suggesting that the stories garak fabricates are indicative of how he chooses to define himself, i think the stories from the wire serve specifically to illustrate what garak most covets/coveted in life, and that they contain elements of the circumstances/relationships/motivations/etc. that garak never had, or were beyond his reach. by making up these particular circumstances, garak is juxtaposing his words against the actuality of his life, and by that comparison his lies demonstrate the truth of his relationship with tain, his work in the obsidian order, and his personal convictions...

Story 1: “During the occupation, I was a Gul in the Cardassian Mechanised Infantry. We were stationed just outside the Bajoran Capital. Shortly before the withdrawal, a handful of Bajoran prisoners escaped from my custody. My aide, a man named Elim, tracked them to a Cardassian shuttle about to depart for Terok Nor. Elim got aboard, but the captain refused to let him search the ship, because he claimed he was under strict orders from Gul Dukat to depart immediately. So I had the shuttle destroyed, killing the escapees, Elim, and ninety seven Cardassian civilians... I followed my orders. None of those prisoners escaped off of Bajor alive. Unfortunately as it turned out, one of the passengers on the shuttle was the daughter of a prominent military official. I was stripped of my rank and commission, and exiled from Cardassia.” 

-> what i get from this one is that garak wants a) companionship (in this “aide”, elim), b) authority (in my mind, this is more of a past item of desire. in his youth in the obsidian order, he wanted to emulate tain, and was indoctrinated to think that power should be sought after above all else, and not relinquished), and c) ruthlessness. the crowning jewel of tain’s service as the head of the obsidian order, garak grew up with detachment and brutality being demonstrated as the guiding principle of leadership, command, delegation... the funny thing about all these garak episodes, and which I am glad to see that the fandom so readily picked up on (see one of my favorite posts: “i don’t understand why ds9 fandom casts garak as some sort of suave oscar wilde daddy dom when he’s clearly the kind of older man who gets trashed at a casino at 3pm on thursdays and tips dabo boys extra to hold him while he cries”) is that for all his posturing, for all his discussion about the difference between cardassian principles and “federation dogma”, for all we actually, genuinely learn about what garak did during his time in the obsidian order (for all interested in garak’s life pre-terok nor/ds9, please take this free link and read a stitch in time it’s one of like... two trek novels i’d ever recommend and is so good i promise <3), for all we learn about what he did after (the assassination of senator vreenak “in in the pale moonlight”), garak still doesn’t... come off as hardened, or unfeeling. he repeatedly demonstrates a willingness to put himself in harm's way to save the people he cares about (most notably, bashir/martok during their time in the jem hadar prison, but even once going to cardassia to save kira, who detests/detested him (depending on if you believe their relationship changed over the course of the show) and risking arrest/execution by returning to cardassia during his exile). for all his pretending otherwise (from second skin: GARAK: “I have no intention of sacrificing my life to save yours. If it looks like we're in danger of being captured... if there are any signs of trouble at all... you're on your own. SISKO: Mister Garak, I believe that's the first completely honest thing you've ever said to me.”), Garak isn’t selfish, or at the least isn’t constantly, predictably selfish. He’s self-sacrificial more often that he’s given credit for, he’s occasionally kind. I think the first story he tells in the wire is so indicative of the inner conflict he feels. inside him is a child who was brought up to revel in the glory of violence in the middle of a military occupation of another world. there is a part of him that persists in believing strength is only fortification, obfuscation, invulnerability. and yet there is a part of him now wrestling with the belief that he can only be saved through honesty, by telling bashir about the implant and why it’s there and who he is that warrants it. one of the most remarkable things about this wholly incredible episode is this struggle between these two parts of himself. 

and really, garak isn’t stubborn, or stupid. he knows if he wants to save his life (and for a moment... for some inexplicable reason, he does), he’ll have to give bashir some tipping hint. he has to tell him enough of the truth to give him a way to help him, and that’s what all these stories come down to. he is hinting as best he can. he is explaining as much as possible, so as not to betray the angry little boy inside him who sees this addiction as a weakness, who sees his attachment to bashir, and to his life on the station as a vulnerability, exploited.  then there’s a second layer in which (after discovery that garak is elim) the audience gleans that garak (in his youth) desperately wanted direction, for someone to tell him what do to and how to do it--that he wanted to be excused from his actions on the basis of “following direct orders”... god, but then I think about how garak chooses to kill the figure of elim he paints here. paired with the resignation to his own fate at this point in the episode (garak knows a replacement device can’t be obtained, that his body is too reliant on the implant to function on its own, and that withdrawal without supplement will be deadly... which is to say garak is sure he is going to die), this seems so poignant. does he wish he’d have died years ago? killed in some random shoot out at the orders of someone higher up on the obsidian order’s chain of command? and can you imagine that? tain would bury the report so as to conceal his son’s involvement with the order (sentimentality always coming second to security, of course), letting this “elim garak” be listed as some citizen at the wrong place at the wrong time, a random victim of the violence of the bajoran occupation... garak, in an instant, would be forgotten. brushed aside by his father in favor of obscuring the actual operation undergone. 

in the end i think the most i get from this version of the story is that subtle death wish. if he had been a less important operative, or if he had died then, he wouldn’t be enduring this now (return to the conversation about a lifetime serving cardassia re: “the neverending sacrifice” at the opening of the ep....). part of me believes garak wishes he would have died then, before he could have been exiled, before setting up his shop on the station, before meeting bashir... 

garashir side note: “At first, he just wanted to have sex with him. That's absolutely clear. That's all he wanted from him. ‘Come to my shop, I got some nice clothes for you... but you'll have to change first.’ But then it really got complicated, especially when Garak's addiction and despair began to surface. He needed someone to share it with.” - Andy Robinson, from “What We Left Behind”. / “What we should've done, after The Wire in season two, the episode where Bashir helps him get over his addiction, we should've had Garak come out to Bashir as a gay Cardassian... Garak comes out as gay in season two, we have five seasons to play that Bashir and Garak relationship. Where that would have gone, who the hell knows, but it could've been so cool.” - Ira Steven Behr, from “What We Left Behind”. 

Considering these two quotes from the actor who played Garak and the head writer on DS9, another thing about this episode I’m throwing my two cents in for is the obvious implications for this deepening the relationship between garak and bashir. One of the most frustrating things about this episode is how much it just begs for more, more, more. The casual banter about literature they start up at the beginning of the episode, the refusal on garak’s part of letting bashir take him the the infirmary (hello cardassian stubbornness, the whole scene reeks so much of ‘I do not want you to see me vulnerable, I want you to think me strong and independent and not in danger’. the whole charade reminds me so much of a wounded animal putting on a brave face so as to not be found out. garak does not want bashir (specifically!) to see him sick, to see him needing. he does not want to admit that he needs his help, that he needs him)...

then everything else that follows that, bashir worriedly reaching out to his friends for help and advice: talking to o’brien about his concerns for garak and asking about retrieving the cardassian medical files, then to dax, who tells him flatly “It sounds like you're taking this personally.... It's not like you two are really friends.”. the affront on bashir’s part at hearing that. “It's just that Garak and I have been having lunch together once a week for more than a year now. You'd think he'd come to trust me a little!” he exclaims. then how defeated and angry he is (violently stabbing her plant with mycorrhizae), the strong thread of bitterness humming in his honey-sweet voice, “If he doesn't want my help, that's his prerogative.”

there’s something so magnificent about the timeline here. how long they’ve known each other by now, the fact that bashir is the only person garak really considers his own on the station (“it isn’t bashir who dies, is it? Ira, you’re not going to kill off julian, are you? I mean, where does that leave me? I mean, he’s my only relationship in this show! I don’t have him, I have nothing. I’m hanging out in space with nobody to talk to!” - DS9Doc's Ira Steven Behr pushes for more DS9 in HD!)... it’s so plainly laid out that bashir is the only thing garak has, the only reason he has to be curious about what else life could bring him at this point in his life, so far from home, from his family, from the only job he ever felt he had been suited for. 

which is not even to mention julian’s reaction to this first story.  “So now you know, Doctor. I hope I haven't shattered too many of your illusions.” garak concludes. There is a pregnant pause of still hesitation (in which i imagine garak is reeling--because, at the same time, i think, despite this relay being an attempt to communicate his own misery, these stories are also made to push something in bashir. Garak is at the end of his rope, drifting (almost) untethered into unknown space and he is reaching out in the hope that julian, (despite, despite, despite...) will take his hand. Garak is trying to see just how far Julian will go to save him, to forgive him. He is trying to discover if there is an exception to his “federation dogma”, if there is really truth to that myth of human kindness he’d heard so much about...  in this moment, Garak is playing this horrific, dangerous, loving, desperate game of cat and mouse. “Could you still love me if I...” he seems to say, and believes at some point he’ll be responded to with a “no”, but hopes, against his better judgement, beyond belief, that he wont be.  And then Julian looks up at him, faces close enough for Garak to feel his steady breath on his cheeks as he says, calmly, “Listen to me, Garak. Right now I'm not concerned with what you did in the past. I'm simply not going to walk out of here and let you die. We need to turn that implant off and whatever withdrawal symptoms or side effects you may experience, I promise I'll help you through them. I need to know where that triggering device is. Where is it?” 

And that line is it for me, beyond so much of the other golden ones in this episode. This is the first time that Garak hears that unequivocal acceptance, and it just sends him staggering. In all his life, he’s never been faced with love like that. His father pushed him away, let him believe for years that he wasn’t his son. Mila didn’t, or couldn’t, or wouldn’t put up a fight for him when Tain exiled him... 

this is one moment in ds9 where i am particularly grateful for ds9 being filmed on a 4:3 aspect ratio that forced characters so close together to be in a shot. in this scene, a line from Shauna Barbosa’s “GPS”, Cape Verdean Blues comes back to me, and I look at the pair of them so close on the screen, Julian so open and Garak so agast, and I just think, “You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only / the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

all is to say: andy robinson himself has said that bashir is the only relationship garak has. assuming garak’s killing of elim in this first story is indicative of his own wish that he might have died during his work with the obsidian order (and thus been spared exile, the torture of life on the station, the gradual dependency he forged on the implant, and the inevitable withdrawal he was going to experience), there necessitates a question of why garak should agree to treatment (thus saving his life) only to continue living on a station he found so hellish in the past* 

*oh... the magnificent (perfectly summative) conversation between Tain and Bashir... “BASHIR: He's dying. TAIN: And you're trying to save him. BASHIR: That's right. TAIN: Strange. I thought you were his friend. BASHIR: I suppose I am. TAIN: Then you should let him die. After all, for Garak, a life in exile is no life at all.”

to me, this question has three answers: 1. he is appeasing an insistent julian (though this begets the suggestion that garak doesn’t have much faith in julian’s treating him--in which case, garak decides that one of his last acts in life will be making julian happy) 2. he is choosing to live because he is... intrigued by julian. because he likes his company and the meals they share and the books they trade... and because he is curious to see where this relationship will go. Julian has made his life bearable (dare I say enjoyable? see: “GARAK: [They] left me to live out my days with nothing to look forward to but having lunch with you. BASHIR: I'm sorry you feel that way. I thought you enjoyed my company. GARAK: I did. And that's the worst part. I can't believe that I actually enjoyed eating mediocre food and staring into at your smug, sanctimonious face. ”) and has thus given him some reason to get up in the morning, even if it is for a frivolous little lunch appointment in another few days or 3. he is choosing to live not for julian, but directly because of him. even if this relationship has a platonic reading, it can’t be denied that julian opened up a new world for garak, and if nothing else was able to stay his boredom/disgust with life on the station

Story 2: GARAK: There was a time, Doctor, oh there was a time when I was a power. The protégé of Enabran Tain himself. Do you have any idea what that means?... Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand. My future was limitless until I threw it away. BASHIR: You mean when you had that shuttle shot down to stop those prisoners from escaping? GARAK: Stop them? I only wish that I had stopped them. BASHIR: You didn't? GARAK: No, Doctor, my disgrace was worse than that. Unimaginably worse. BASHIR: What could you have possibly done worse than that? GARAK: I let them go. It was the eve of the Cardassian withdrawal. Elim and I were interrogating five Bajorans. They were children, Doctor. None of them were older than fourteen years old. They knew nothing. They lived in bombed-out rooms, scrounged for food on the streets. They were filthy and they stank. The room was freezing cold, the air was like ice, and suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless. All I wanted was a hot bath and a good meal. So I let them go. I gave them whatever latinum I had in my pockets, and opened the door, and flung them back into the street. Elim couldn't believe his eyes. He looked at me as if I were insane.” 

-> from this version of the story there’s a much clearer division between the elim garak (a young agent of the obsidian order baptized in fire) he was in his youth and the elim garak he is now (a disgraced former agent, exiled, alone save for one ambitious, self assured federation doctor). this, i think, seems to show the separation between what this character “elim” (young garak) wanted:  which was uncompromising brutality and dedication to his work, and what present garak wants: peace, a full belly, the ability to be charitable (specifically to young, hungry bajorans)... 

this story to me is one that best places this contemporary incarnation of garak relative to his bajoran counterparts on the station. in the beginning of this episode, when telling bashir why he initially chose to activate the implant, he speaks about how he, as the only cardassian living on ds9, is viewed by the bajorans living there. (“Living on this station is torture for me, Doctor. The temperature is always too cold, the lights always too bright. Every Bajoran on the station looks at me with loathing and contempt.”) In this story, by releasing the children and giving them the latinum he had, he’s trying to repent to Julian, asking to be forgiven for the part he played in the occupation of bajor by showing that he was/is (depending on how you view the timeline of the progression of his attitudes) sympathetic to them, and that he regrets the hand he had in bringing war, famine, and subjugation to them. 

Story 3: “GARAK: Elim wasn't my aide. He was my friend. We grew up together. We were closer than brothers. For some reason, Enabran Tain took a liking to us. Before long, we were both powerful men in the Obsidian Order. They called us the Sons of Tain. Even the Guls feared us. And then there was a scandal. Someone in the Order was accused of letting some Bajoran prisoners escape. There were constant rumours of who was going to be implicated. Fingers were being pointed at me. By then Tain had retired to the Arawath Colony. He couldn't protect me, so I panicked. I did everything in my power to make sure that Elim was accused instead of me. I altered records, planted evidence, only to discover that he'd beaten me to it. BASHIR: He betrayed you first? GARAK: Elim destroyed me. Before I knew what was going on, I was sentenced to exile. And the irony is, I deserved it. Oh, not for the reasons they claimed, but because of what I had tried to do to Elim, my best friend.”

-> whenever I think back to this, my first impression remains that this is one of the stories where Bashir is considered. At this point, Garak’s been transferred from his room to the infirmary. Despite turning the implant off, toxins are continuing to accumulate in his lymphatic systems. He’s been sad (even woke bashir up with his weeping), he’s been angry (destroyed the vase and flipped the desk in his room, attacked bashir...), and now he’s calm, and tired. He thinks this is the end. He refuses to have the implant turned back on, which nurse jabara estimates might give him another week to live. This is the end of the line for him, and he’s accepting it with dignity and grace. He goes to release Bashir from his obligation to him “you’re done enough, Doctor. More than I deserve...” and goes to tell Bashir “the truth”. To me, this is his goodbye. Even if it isn’t a true story, this is the gift he’s giving Bashir. This is what he (spinner of wonderful lies, obfuscating agent of the despicable obsidian order) can give him as a parting gift--it is what he wants him to have. 

in this story, Garak is not friendless, as he is on the station. He has a close relationship with someone (’see, then, doctor?’ he seems to ask playfully, life sputtering out of his eyes. ‘i am capable of it!’)... and yet, there is also betrayal. It reminds me of an assurance, in a way. “Bashir,” he seems to say, the entire weight of all the good doctor’s efforts to save him pressing down on his every word, “look what might have come to you had I allowed you to care for me. There is only danger for you to find in me.” In this, Elim stands in place of Bashir. A steadfast friend who Garak works against for the sake of self preservation. In this moment, Garak is pleading with the man standing above him next to the biobed. He is insisting Bashir be grateful for the shallowness of their relationship (something I Garak ensured deliberately), and telling him that, though he is grateful for him, that if they had been closer, Garak would only have caused him pain. 

The heart of this story is Garak’s appraisal of his own self worth. Regardless of how much he’s changed since his time in the order, he persists in thinking he functions in the world to cause harm, much so that it is the only thing he’s able to do. Garak sees himself as the knife in the backs of others, or the hand raised, dagger in clutch. 

the second thing i see is contained wholly within the line: “By then Tain had retired to the Arawath Colony. He couldn't protect me, so I panicked.” aside from assurances made to bashir, i think the purpose of this speech is to demonstrate (in the fashion of the lies being true) that garak wanted, and still wants safety. he wanted someone (Tain) to come to his defense then. while this extends to the implication that garak wanted tain, as his father, to stand up for him out of pride, or love, or even a perfunctory sense of parental commitment rather than exile him (a recurring desire illustrates/suggested in the show/books), i also think its perfectly suited to the care julian is exhibiting in tending to him in this episode. for all garak’s refusal to acknowledge his pain (a mere headache, as he claimed when they stood outside the replimat), for all his refusal to go to the infirmary when they meet at quark’s later, the care julian is constantly exhibiting through this episode is what garak is most endeared by. it is the thing he wanted most in his youth, and the thing now (because it was denied to him then) he finds so difficult to accept. there are many (many) instances throughout the show of garak and bashir talking about the extension of federation help/kindness, and this being something bashir embodies, btu this is one of the illustrations that sticks with me because of its particular placement. In the story, Garak wanted protection. He was alone, and afraid, and wanted help. As it now stands, he is not alone, he is calm, and has help. That is perhaps the most startling revelation for him of all. 

and last but not least another... intriguing part of all garak’s stories is his repeated separation of himself and elim. the illusion of separation is one of the most intriguing (and heartbreaking) aspects of these story to me. garak has always struck me as the kind of character who sees grief and regret as an impetus for amputation. he believes what is unpleasant or unnecessary about him he can cut off and live through. he believes he can build up a wall between himself and what he doesn’t want to see or experience without repercussion (this being why he activated the implant in the first place). by making elim and himself two separate people he is not only distancing himself from whatever it was he really did, thus taking responsibility for it in part and allowing the other half of himself turn away in disgust and without sympathy, but suggesting that he cannot be culpable entirely for what it was he did.  in each of his stories, the blame is to be shared, divided. the hardest part of all of this to swallow is that even after all this time, he’s begging for someone to spare him of the crushing loneliness of disgrace, begging for someone to understand fully what he’s done, accept him, and shoulder a part of his burden, much so that he creates an entirely new incarnation of himself just to sit with him in hell. 

anyway ive also been fucking around on memory alpha and this was intriguing to me so im putting it here: 

"When I was writing the story," stated Robert Hewitt Wolfe, "the movie Schindler's List had just come out and Ira was saying, 'Maybe he was Schindler; maybe he was the guy who let the prisoners go.' And then it was, 'Maybe he wasn't; maybe he was the Butcher of Budapest.' So we just kept telling all these lies, and I think the truth lies somewhere in there. Maybe he did let people go. Maybe he did shoot down the ship. Who knows?" (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Companion (p. 141))

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Alternate Universe

Here are some Alternate Universe fics that I love. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Food for the Heart, by LagLemon, 14 k >, Cooking, No Powers.

After being introduced to a gourmet food on a budget blog by Pepper (a gift for her elderly, cheapskate mother) Tony starts cooking again. The recipes are good, but the blog owner is even better. Still, Tony isn't so sure Captain America, the guy who runs the blog, can compete with Hot Bagboy, the gorgeous blond who works at the grocery store.

"Free to Good Home" by Captain_Panda, 7 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

"Oliver and Company" AU.

There's a great big world outside the box.

But it's a dog-eat-dog world, and Tony's just one cat. Then a stray dog comes along, looking for a friend.

A Day In Principal Stark's Office, by nannersmelo, 10 k > words, Steve Single Parent, Director Tony.

Tony Stark has his hands full with not only Stark Industries, but also his beloved mother's life project: The Maria Stark Academy, and as he enters his office in order to deal with a ferocious mother whose son was apparently assaulted by one of his brightest students, he was sure this day would culminate in nothing but a heinous headache. Little did he know - he was in for one hell of a surprise.

I Am the Night by gottalovev, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Tony Stark, Wizard Steve Rogers.

That's it. Tony is doomed. He rolls on his back, crosses his wings over his belly and closes his eyes. He'll await death here, misunderstood by the world to the bitter end.

C is for Calculus and Compromise, by heydoeydoey, 11 k>, Gifted AU, Post-Divorce, Angts with a Happy Ending.

Steve's just trying to give his prodigy daughter a normal childhood. Enter a meddling school administrator, Tony Stark, and too many lawyers.

tell you my love for you by jelliebean, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Based on Love Simon.

A guy at Shield High comes out on tumblr, anonymously. Tony thought he was the only gay guy on campus--not out, because of Howard--and sends him an email.

“Hey, Flying. Same here. I’ve got a secret too, and it’s like I’m hiding who I am, every day. From everyone. All the closest people to me. But I just can’t tell them. I’m gay, too. It feels like I’m putting on this mask, this shell of who I think they want me to be. Even though I don’t think my friends would judge me. I don’t know why. I just. I’ve got a secret. –Shell”

The guy seems great--amazing, even, and then Hammer has to step in and ruin it all.

Mergers & Acquisitions by Robin_tCJ, 33 k > words, Angst, sex as currency.

Steve Rogers is the CEO of the Rogers Corporation, which he built from the ground up. When he learns that Hydra International is making a bid for a hostile takeover of Stark Industries, he decides he has to do what he can to stop Hydra from overtaking the market and becoming an unstoppable, unethical conglomerate. Tony Stark asks for something Steve isn’t sure he should give, but he does it anyway – and it completely changes everything. But when Hydra keeps coming, Steve and Tony realize there’s more to this than they’d realized.

Meeting the Monsters by itsallAvengers, 23 k > words, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters.

Tony's at public school with kids his age for the first time in seventeen years, and he is determined that this year is gonna be his year. He's going to make friends. He's going to be popular. People will like him.

Unsurprisngly, none of that actually happens.

He does sort-of-maybe fall in love with a vampire in his class that everyone is terrified of, though. So... there's that.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side Of Me by ann2who, 45 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Post-World War II.

In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

Gift With Purchase Remix by sabrecmc, 43 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, hooker Steve, Sugar Daddy.

Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker. But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.

The Little Glass Screwdriver by ann2who, 19 k > words, Cinderella AU.

When Prince Steven is forced to find himself a bride, true love gets in the way. As the night of the grand ball unfolds, the prince meets a mysterious knight who might just change his entire life in a way he could have never imagined.

**Cinderella AU**

Covered in Lines by royal_chandler, 3 k > words, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - College/University, Age Difference.

He can’t lose sight of pale, deft hands that gesture on transitive verbs, an ink-stained thumb edging underneath Tony’s ribcage with an affection that can only be called dangerous.

half-wild and glimmering by deathsweetqueen , 15 k > words, Alternate Universe - Western, Prostitution.

“Give me a drink, Tasha,” Tony sighs as he lands in front of the bar. “I’ve had one hell of a day.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Have you really?” she asks, loftily, sliding a tumbler of whiskey along the well-polished wood.

Tony lets his head hang, the sweat beading on the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to put myself through today,” he sighs, wearily.

“I would not know. You will not let me work the rooms,” Natasha retorts, her voice a little strained, busying her hands in a dirty glass.

“I don’t let you work the rooms ‘cause you’re liable to kill anyone who touches ya the wrong way and we can’t lose that much of our business,” Tony reminds her, wryly amused, sipping at his whiskey. He shakes his head at the burn. “We peddle flesh, darling, not death.”

peers, fears and holiday cheers by jacobby, 24 k > words, Parent Tony Stark.

“He’s only two years older than you,” Tony finally says when the silence becomes too much to bear.

“Dad, Teddy is turning twenty-seven next year.”

“I am not dating your husband—”

“I’m not implying you are. I just want you to be...aware that he’s practically the same age as my husband.”

AKA

Tony Stark's new boyfriend is only two years older than his adult sons. Telling them is one thing, introducing them is another. What Tony doesn't expect is that the past always has a way of catching up to him, of biting him in the ass when he least expects it. Well, at least they're all together for the Holidays. What more can he ask for?

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc, 292 k > words, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Historical Romance.

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

you can call me babe for the weekend by complicationstoo, 10 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, actor Tony Stark.

Tony left his small town for Los Angeles after high school, leaving behind everything to pursue his dream. Ten years later, he comes back for the first time and finds that some things are impossible to let go of.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be by iam93percentstardust, 72 k > words, Alternate Universe - Theatre.

Famed director Phil Coulson brings Shakespeare’s beloved play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Broadway. This production though comes with a twist: a brief but passionate love affair between the faerie king, Oberon, and his attendant, Puck. In the roles of the two star-crossed lovers, Coulson casts America’s darling Steve Rogers, fresh off his third Academy Award, and Broadway royalty, Tony Stark. Steve quickly finds himself falling for the quick-witted and sarcastic actor but Tony is dating the stage manager. Unwilling to come between the seemingly happy couple, Steve steps back but all isn’t right behind the scenes and Tony may need him when everything falls apart.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza, 26 k > words, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Soulmates, Mutual Pining.

Sometimes, a voice whispers: you will never atone for your mistakes.

Tony believes that, believes it so strongly some days he drowns in it, but he still tries. Tries through Starfleet, tries through inventions, tries through missions. Then, one day, he meets his new Captain, and things change.

and teach this heart (how to beat with light), by starklystar, 40 k >, AU Hospital, Single parent Steve.

Eight years ago, at a funeral with a baby's cries ringing in his ears, Tony Stark decided to turn his life around. He's a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. What's so hard to adding 'doctor' to that list? And after that, it can't be that hard to add 'husband' and 'father' too, right? But the past has a way of haunting even the very best of us, and in any universe, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never had an easy love.

Featuring: drama, chaos, Peter's scheming, meddling friends, and doctors learning again that the heart can never be as simple as four chambers and four valves.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by sabrecmc, 120 k > words, Alternate Universe - Sweet Home Alabama Fusion.

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

The Night Shift by weethreequarter , 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Hospital.

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Cake It Till You Make It by ChocolateCapCookie, 10 k > words, Kid Fic, Alternate Universe - Bakery.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a lot in common. They're single parents, they own rival bakeries at the center of town... and they both hate each other's guts.

When a mix-up at Peter and Morgan's school has both fathers scrambling to prove they're the better baker, they do the mature, adult thing and compete in a bake-off. Between the mixing and the creaming, the baking and the icing, Steve and Tony find that hate is actually not that far from love.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub, 31 k > words, Alternate Universe - Regency, Marriage of Convenience.

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

just a guy, standing in front of another guy by theappleppielifestyle, 12 k > words.

“It’s not real,” Tony says, still smiling, jaw twitching with effort. “The fame. It’s - I’m just a guy."

(Or, Notting Hill AU, with a twist.)

Mother of Exiles (A Titanic AU) by BladeoftheNebula, 21 k > words, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion.

“You’ll never guess what just happened!” Steve said, taking a deep breath to try and calm his breathing. “I met someone. A guy from first class.”

Dublin 1912: Steve Rogers is barely making ends meet, living in the tenement slums of Dublin. But a stroke of good luck gives him and his best friend the chance to change their fortune. Two tickets to America on board the RMS Titanic.

The Devil You Know by shetlandowl, 17 k > words, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Author/Novelist.

Best selling author Tony Stark revives the bodice ripper genre for a modern audience. From frisky gay cowboys to ravenous lesbian pirate queens, he consistently delivers riveting thrillers full of romance, drama, and the filthy, unapologetically kinky sex that has become his trademark specialty.

Tony has everything a man could dream of - horny, adoring fans, and boatloads of money. Or that's what he thought, until Detective Steve Rogers walks into his life and turns it all upside down.

Bears and Mountains and Lumberjacks Oh My! by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday), 24 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Lumberjack Steve Rogers.

It was supposed to be easy--go meet the reclusive artist and buy some art. And then came the broken down car. And the snowstorm. And the lumberjack with a face like a greek god. So yea, Tony is stuck in a cabin in the woods with a hot lumberjack till the storm clears. Could be worse.

Series: A Furious Vexation by Annie D (scaramouche), 18 k > words, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse.

A Steve/Tony post-apocalypse AU that exists pretty much just for the smut.

That Feline Beat by Tito11, 5 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

Presenting Steve and Tony in the Aristocats!AU

Tony and his three kittens have been kidnapped from their fancy Upper East Side apartment while their owners are away and deposited on the mean streets of Harlem. Unsure of where they are or how to get back home, they'll have to rely on street cat Steve to guide them. Will they get home safely? Will Tony's fear of abandonment cause him to drive away the best tomcat he's ever known? Only time will tell.

do you fondue? by calciseptine, 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting.

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

a glimpse of heaven's love by parkrstark, 13 k> words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Terminal Illnesses.

The child begins to empty his pockets. He starts to count coins on the counter. Tony huffs a little impatiently as he realizes most of them are pennies.

The cashier actually humors the kid and counts along with him. They reach 3 dollars and 54 cents before he shakes his head sadly. "Sorry, kid. There's not enough here."

The kid sounds close to crying. "I need these paints for my Papa. It's Christmas Eve and these...he doesn't have any. The doctors said he doesn't have long. I want him to have these. In case he meets Jesus tonight, I want him to paint one more time. Please."

Tony takes a step forward, arms still full of toys he's buying just because. He can cover this child's gift for his dying father. Money. Money is what he's good for.

"I'll buy them."

--

Or, the Christmas Shoes AU no one but me asked for.

If you survive first impressions, you're good to go by itsallAvengers, 3 k > words, Parent Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers.

The first time Peter Parker-Stark sees Steve Rogers, he may or may not be standing in direct path of the man's motorcycle.

His daddy is really not going to be happy about that one.

A Rat-ional Conclusion by BladeoftheNebula, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Parent Tony Stark.

He had a strong flurry of patients throughout the morning and by the time it rolled around to noon, he was just about worn out.

He walked out into the reception, stretching until he felt a satisfying pop. “Are we done?”

Bucky checked the screen. “Just about. One more before lunch - a rat, singular.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully straight forward then. “Great, let me know when they-”

He was interrupted by the bell over the door and looked up to see a little girl cradling a small animal carrier, being shepherded through the door by easily one of the hottest men he’d ever seen in real life.

Oh wow.

Tidal Pull by sabrecmc, 97 k > words, Octopus Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked.

After the American Civil War, Union soldier Steve Rogers takes a chance on an opportunity to sail with the Stark Trading Company down in the Caribbean. During a terrible storm, his ship is lost. To his surprise, he survives, and ends up stranded on an island that isn't quite as deserted as he first thinks.

Or, a reverse Little Mermaid tale where Steve has to fall for the fish-man.

Twelve Days by elysianprince, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Ghosts.

In which Tony finds himself in a town that looks like it crawled out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, trying to sell an inn he didn't know he owned, all while dealing with Steve Rogers, the resident ghost who has returned to haunt the inn each December during the twelve days of Christmas for the past seventy years. Tony has only one logical solution that benefits them both: break the curse that binds him - but falling for a man almost a century old wasn't among his plans.

She kissed me by S_Horne, 1 k > words, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting.

“Your mom kissed me.”

Steve blinked awake and lifted his head from his pillow to look over at the silhouette in the doorway. “What?”

“Your mom,” Tony reiterated. “She kissed me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, “she does that.”

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021

[fictionplumis]

A Lambert/Aiden Thing

Okay, bear with me here, this might be long. And maybe at one point I'm gonna try to RP this but unfortunately there's no one on the Lambert/Aiden RP tags on the site I use. So I'm just gonna put this here for now. And if anyone wants to, oh I don't know, write a fic or whatever based on this, PLEASE link me 'cause I wanna read it but anyway. 

Set after the Wild Hunt, one of those rare AUs where Aiden genuinely did not survive.

While traveling together as super cool witchers, Geralt ends up telling Ciri all about helping Lambert get revenge for his Cat friend, right? 

Time passes, and Ciri starts trying to really solidify her control with her ability. Geralt ends up spending more and more time at Corvo Bianco and Ciri is out on the Path, but every so often a girl needs a break, y'know? So sometimes she'll disappear for a couple days, maybe a few weeks, just off in another world. It's a good way to practice. 

In one world, she ends up running into this man named Aiden. (This world being our world. Not a modern Continent thing, not some point in the future, I mean OUR world.) They talk, and he ends up mentioning his roommate Lambert, and the more he says about Lambert, the more it becomes obvious that it's LAMBERT. 

Now Ciri has absolutely no intention of doing anything about this. It's not her place, telling Lambert would be an AWFUL idea, and going to meet that world's version of her uncle just seems like a bad idea. But she is curious about what kind of man can inspire such a strong sense of friendship in Lambert, so she decides to pop into that world every so often, "accidentally" find Aiden, and just kind of get to know him a little bit. Plus it's another way to practice her abilities, not just pin-pointing and traveling to a specific world, but to where a specific person is. 

She does that on and off a few times, enough where her and Aiden are sort of acquaintances. 

Now in this world Aiden isn't a saint, okay? This boy pretty much grew up on the streets. He has a past that he's trying to get away from. He knows his way around a knife fight, has ample experience running from the cops, and has been through so much therapy. (I don’t get into detail here but any kind of modern Aiden I usually have some kind of neurotypical. Might be something as simple as ADHD, though I do love bipolar!Aiden and psychotic!Aiden as well. I’d imagine at this point he’s good at managing it, with the help of therapy and medication. Now the therapy wouldn’t be all that accessible with where this is going, but Ciri could help him make sure he has his medications. Hell, if wanted to have him keep things consistent with his therapy too, he could move down to appointments maybe once a month and Ciri could make sure he could get to them, the same way she helps attain other things later on in this snippet. I absolutely support positive and accurate depictions of mental illness, I’m not just using the terms bipolar or psychotic lightly.) And unfortunately his past ends up catching up with him. 

Ciri happens to get there just in time. Before Aiden can end up with a bullet in his eye, she's teleporting him to the first safe place that comes to her mind: Corvo Bianca.

Now poor Aiden has no fucking idea what happened. One second his old "friends" have him backed into a corner with a gun to his face and the next he's experiencing the worst motion sickness of his life and throwing up in a pot that smells like shit. He spends the next two days sleeping off some major jet lag and when he comes to, he had no fucking idea where he is. 

Then comes Geralt and Ciri having to awkwardly explain the whole witcher thing to him, the Continent in general, the time period, the fact that monsters and sorceresses and magic exists in this world, all that happy shit. And it's a lot to process. Before they can even get to the whole "do you want to go back to your world and handle the deal with people trying to kill you thing" Lambert shows up. 

At first Aiden doesn't even think, he's just like oh thank fuck a familiar face, I know you hate hugs but I think this can be forgiven because I've had the weirdest most stressful week of my life.

And then he's like, wait a second. Lambert is... Thicker. 

Like Lambert's always been a very physically active guy, he's a mechanic or whatever you want a modern day Lambert to do, but his shoulders weren't THAT broad before and under those spiky metal arm things are some impressive biceps. Also what are those spiky metal arm things? Lambert, what are you wearing? How the fuck did you get here? Holy shit your eyes--

He puts two and two together. Right, the name Geralt sounded familiar because Lambert's mentioned the name. That's his adopted brother. So if this Geralt is a witcher, then Lambert in this world is a witcher. And Lambert is also having a minor breakdown because, y'know, AIDEN. 

Let's just say Geralt warned him. Explained the whole situation and asked Lambert to come back to help with this, and Lambert was very torn because it's not HIS Aiden. It'll hurt too much, to see someone so much like Aiden but just slightly to the left. He knew it would. He just didn’t expect this Aiden to be SO MUCH like his Aiden. By this point Aiden has had to change his clothes into some of Geralt's trousers with a belt to hold them up and a loose tunic, but it's fucking him. 

They all talk a bit. Aiden pretty much admits that yeah, there are people after him. And they probably won't stop until he's dead. That's how gangs work, y'know? You can't really... Get out. He tried, he really fucking did, but even if it's not the ones that cornered him before, it'll be someone else. So yeah, Ciri saved his life and going back is probably not the best idea. 

Now I absolutely don't want to fuck over another world's Lambert just to make Continent!Lambert happy, so we're gonna say the two were really good friends. They were roommates, they were close, Lambert was pretty much Aiden's only friend, but they weren't lovers. Lambert was with a woman named Keira. A doctor. They were good for each other, y'know? When Lambert first started dating her, Aiden thought she was kind of a bitch but as time went on she kind of mellowed out. It wasn't that she became less full of herself, but more that she actually felt confident enough that she didn't feel the need to try to take on the world anymore. And Lambert's happy with her. So leaving Lambert behind in that world kind of sucks, yeah, but he'll be okay. And this Lambert is so similar that to Aiden, it doesn't feel like he's losing someone. 

Now we have Aiden getting to experience the Continent for the first time. Getting to experience witchers for the first time. 

Lambert. Sword fighting. 

And that's so fucking cool. Can you please teach me that?

Which of course has Lambert a little iffy, because this Aiden is human and no fucking away is he letting this Aiden anywhere near a monster, but Aiden is like, nah, relax, I just want to learn because sword fighting is really cool. Look, I'm really good with a knife, teach me some cool sword stuff. 

So Lambert gets to teach Aiden some cool sword stuff. And how to make bombs, which Aiden LOVES. And maybe some alchemy, too, because Aiden asks about the potions and Lambert is very adamant that he never drinks any but Aiden likes at least knowing how to make them. It's fascinating. You all fucking know you would love to make potions out of gross monster parts and herbs if you had the chance, don't even lie. Lambert even shows off some signs and Aiden is delighted. 

This eventually leads to one of those serious conversations about what it takes to become a witcher, and what all Lambert went through, and how people view witchers. And Aiden gets it, maybe not completely, but he gets the just of it. Because he knows about the other Lambert's past, and his shitty father, and all that stuff. And Aiden's brown, and people don't like that. And he's gay, and people don't like that either. Lambert's whole thing kind of reminds him of the X-men. 

And Lambert doesn't know what the fuck that is so Aiden explains comics and superheroes and the X-men to him. 

Because in his world they don't have witchers or magic, so they make up stories that have people like witchers, that have magic, and in those stories, those people sometimes face very similar prejudices. So to Aiden, Lambert is a lot like a superhero. 

And Lambert's like uh huh, no way, definitely not any kind of hero, that's pretty boy's job. 

To which Aiden responds, no, I definitely think you're a hero, even if you don't, so suck it up. 

And they probably kiss and stuff. 

Eventually Aiden gets restless and he's curious about the rest of the Continent, and he's tired of wearing Geralt's ill-fitting clothes because he's used to skinny jeans and shit so he gets Lambert to take him into Beauclaire for clothes. 

And Beauclaire is fucking beautiful, he loves it. 

The clothes are okay. Eventually he just asks Lambert what he used to wear and they go see the armorer instead. Aiden's not entirely sure about it, because Lambert looks like he's swallowed a mouthful of tacks when he sees Aiden in the Cat armor, even without the chest piece or the gauntlets, but Lambert assures him that he's fine. 

It just doesn't quite ease the restlessness. So the next time Ciri pops in, Aiden asks for her help and together they scheme. The next day, Aiden tells Lambert to go find something to entertain himself with for awhile because he needs to spend some quality time with his BFF. 

A few hours later they find Lambert sulking out in the vineyard, Aiden looking fine and fresh in a brand new pair of skinny jeans that show off his very nice ass, and some well-fitting combat boots that aren't nearly as durable as actual leather boots on the Continent but they have studs and buckles and look really cool.

Lambert is torn between thinking Aiden looks like a fucking idiot and thinking that he's never wanted to fuck Aiden more in his life.

Then Aiden drops the news that he also put together an outfit for Lambert because in his world, when you're interested in courting someone, the first thing you do is take them on a date. And he wants to take Lambert on the most stereotypical first date. What's that? Why the movies, of course! There's an X-men movie that just came out (I don't know which one, okay? I don't watch the X-men. You figure it out.) and he thought, maybe, he could show Lambert a little bit of the world he came from. They wouldn't be there for long, and they wouldn't be going to a theater anywhere near where Aiden's old gang would be. Nothing would be tied to Aiden's name, and he would be with Lambert, so he would be safe. 

It's a big change from the Continent. 

Lambert's never seen so many fucking people in his LIFE. Aiden had warned him about cars and technology and Lambert is pretty quick witted so while he's absolutely amazed, he manages to take it in stride pretty well. The thing that throws him off the most is when they go to buy popcorn and the girl at the counter goes, "Oh my god, I love your contacts! Where did you get them? They look so real!" 

Lambert doesn't know what the fuck contacts are, but Aiden steps in all smooth-like, "Fuck, Lamb, you've had those forever, haven't you? I think he got 'em off some cosplay site." 

Then he has to explain later that sometimes people put these little discs in their eye to help them see better or to change the color of their eyes for costume purposes. To which Lambert has the understandable reaction of, "Who in their right fucking mind would CHOOSE to do this to their fucking eyes?" 

Well, y'know, they can take contacts out whenever they want. It's a cosmetic thing. They don't know what you had to go through to get your eyes to look like that. You'll probably have some old conservative people eyeing you weird, thinking you're some Satanist or whatever, but most other people will just think it's a cool choice you made, to put those in to go to the movies.

The world is weird. Lambert can't decide if he likes it or hates it. 

He definitely likes the movie, though. And the popcorn. Probably finds the soda to be a little too sweet for his taste. There's still a lot of people, which makes him a bit on edge, but they came to the theater at an off time and not many people are actually in the room with them. They sit at the back and hold hands and Lambert decides he loves it. Ciri picks them up like a proud parent driving her kid and her kid's date home, only instead of driving she's teleporting and neither of them are her kids but whatever. 

But Aiden isn't done scheming. When they get back he tells Lambert to stay put and gets Ciri to take him back for one more little errand. 

A couple hours later they clang back into Corvo Bianco. CLANG back because each of them has a weird metal cart piled high with items and they're laughing their asses off. 

So you might be wondering, how did Ciri and Aiden afford clothes? They stole them. How did Aiden afford movie tickets and popcorn? He pick pocketed. Boy grew up on the streets. He knows how to steal wallets. And now they performed the greatest "run out the doors of Walmart with carts full of shit" EVER. Because as soon as they were out of sight, they teleported, no one the wiser. 

Aiden is thrilled with his non-purchases. Firstly, he has about a year's worth of toilet paper. he throws a package at Lambert, who's like, what the fuck is this. Toilet paper. What do you use it for? To wipe your ass after you shit, Lambert. Trust me. Once you use it, you'll never go back. It's a blessing, you'll thank me for it. There might not be indoor plumbing here, but god dammit, I want toilet paper.

He then hands Ciri two boxes of pads. Yeah, she was there shopping with him, but he just kind of dumped stuff in carts without explaining anything, and while Ciri knows what most of the things are, do you really think she's thought about how other worlds deal with menstruation? Because I menstruate, and the thought would genuinely not cross my mind. I would continue using whatever method I used back in my original world. So Aiden leans in to whisper what they are, because he's polite, and he becomes her favorite uncle just like that. And when Geralt and Lambert are like, uh, what? She tells them it's for menstruating and, "Oh, don't make that face at me, Geralt. I bleed, it happens."

Aiden admits that most of the other purchases are for Lambert, and when Lambert tires to protest Aiden makes it very clear that everything he bought is NORMAL in his world. Not even luxury, just NORMAL, so Lambert just needs to shut up and let Aiden make his life a little easier. 

First up, sunglasses. Because Lambert mentioned how painful it can be to take Cat and then step out into sunlight before the potion has run out. He tosses a pair at Lambert, who tries them on with a frown and is like, "Oh. Huh. Alright. These might actually be pretty useful." Aiden got himself a pair too. They match. There's also a tent. It folds up pretty small, but witchers travel, right? And Lambert mentioned how shit it is to camp in the rain, so here's a tent that’s better than the shit you can buy on the Continent. You lay out your bedroll in it, and you don't have to worry about bugs, and it helps protect you against the weather. It's small, but it looks kind of easy to put up, should be durable enough. 

And maybe just big enough for two, because Aiden isn't stupid. Eventually Lambert will need to take to the Path again, and Aiden wants to comes too. He wants to see the Continent. He can't help with the monsters, he knows, but maybe he can do something else to help them earn money. Who knows, right? This world isn't run by capitalism. He could make a living doing nearly anything. He can figure something out. 

He even got a water filter, and a couple filter replacements because witchers can probably drink any kind of stagnant water they want but he would rather not die of dysentery, thanks. And he got himself a sleeping bag. And he got Lambert a very, very soft fleece blanket just because he thought Lambert would like it. (He does.) Oh, also, Lambert, smell this soap. And this shampoo. Using a bar of soap has not done Aiden's hair any favors, he got actual fucking shampoo. The BIG bottle. And now Lambert has some nice pomade to use in his hair instead of bear fat. Won't make his hair greasy plus it smells better. Also there's bubble bath, just because. And beard oil for Lambert. Some moisturizer. Here, Lambert, put on some chap stick. Trust me, you'll love it. 

They set out on the Path and it's not always easy because Aiden worries CONSTANTLY. But Lambert is good at what he does. The few times they're ambushed, Lambert always keeps Aiden safe, because in this household everyone fucking survives. 

Aiden likes seeing Lambert in action. He swoons and calls Lambert his hero. 

There are some stunning places to visit on the Continent. Aiden's favorite are the elven ruins they sometimes come across. Only after Lambert deals with the wraiths, though. 

Aiden learns how to play Gwent. He's not that good at it. Aiden learns how to cheat at Gwent. He's VERY good at it. Lambert teaches him how to fish with bombs. Aiden is fucking delighted. 

Eventually he realizes how he can make money. He copywrites Disney. 

He's no bard. He can't sing or play an instrument. But he CAN tell stories, and no matter how much you hate Disney, there are probably a lot of Disney movies everyone can quote by heart, and they're either already time-period approved, or they can easily be adapted into something time period approved. Lambert comes back from a hunt to find the entire tavern listening to Aiden with rapt attention while he's in the front of the room putting on a one man performance of the whole, "I am Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," while jumping back and forth to play each part. He's clearly having a blast with it, because who doesn't love telling other people every little detail about their favorite movie? 

As he's heading upstairs with Lambert, he just keeps raving about how he can't believe he actually made money with that. He hands Lambert a handful of coins, just like, "I don't know how much money this is, but look, it's money!"

Which probably leads to some conversation about capitalism and how easy it was in his world to feel insignificant, to feel like everything is pointless, and how much happier he is with Lambert. How it's even given him a new outlook on the world he came from. He doesn't want to go back, per se, but he doesn't want to completely leave either. He wants to show Lambert the best parts of it, to re-experience his world through Lambert, to really feel the amazement of it all the way he's supposed to, the way that's so easy to stop doing when you're actually living there. It's so easy to take it all for granted, but when you're showing it to someone who's experiencing it for the first time, you can really appreciate it all. 

So every winter they head back to Toussaint and Ciri takes them back long enough for them to do something FUN. They play laser tag. They rope Geralt, Eskel, and Ciri into doing an escape room with them. They go kayaking. They do one of those rope courses and zip-line things. They go to an amusement park. A water park. They walk around a nature trail. They go to a comic convention. (Lambert wears his armor and so many people want pictures with him. He's just sad Aiden wouldn't let him bring his swords, the kids would have fucking loved to see a sword.) They have so much fun. And Aiden stocks up on modern supplies for the year while he's there. Another year's worth of toilet paper, a new tent, another fuzzy blanket, a few pairs of sunglasses because Lambert always ends up breaking his, a nice backpack because Lambert really likes having a bunch of different pockets in his bag for organizing things.

And you know what? Give it ten years, Aiden's bordering on his forties, and he finds some way to make himself functionally immortal. Magic, fairies, a curse, a blessing, I don't know, I don't care. Their plan becomes to live until one of them dies of something--probably Lambert, because he's the one Aiden always has to patch up (he now always buys a very large, well stocked first-aid kit from his world too) what with fighting monsters and all, and the other will follow. It's morbid, sure, but it works for them. With the way things are going, neither of them thinks they'll need to do that anytime soon anyway.

Basically, they live happily ever after, okay? 

HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

[theskeleton-system]

A Fungus Dangerclaw Masterpost

This is a post about Fungus' relationship with every Grumpus on Snaktooth;

Filbo

•definitely stumbled upon Fungus while looking for Liz

•was initially friendly toward Fungus, until Fungus took it personally and chased Filbo out of the woods, growling and claws beared

•when Fungus inevitably stays in town with the others, Filbo is rightfully so still apprehensive, but as Fungus warms up to him, he warms up to Fungus

•Fungus never learns his name, but knows the word Mayor, so calls him that (it is a constant Filbo Confidence Boost [tm])

Wambus

•would meet Fungus when they'd have come to town

•Fungus has absolutely attacked Wambus, he's the biggest man in town and Fungus believes in fighting for dominance, so he attacks him to become the Alpha of town lol

•Wambus doesnt like to make eye contact with Fungus due to this very event

•Fungus does eventually calm down when Wambus lets them rummage in the farm sometimes; it turns out Fungus is handy for digging holes to plant more crops

•after a while of Fungus trusting Wambus, she starts bringing sticks to the farm and burying them in hopes of growing crops too

•Wambus eventually decides he's adopting them. No arguments.

Beffica

•is morbidly curious of Fungus (that feeling is mutual)

•Beffica has absolutely kept Fungus in her cave out of storms, and so is probably the closest thing to a friend at first to Fungus

•she likes to paint his claws, and he loves to watch her do it, he also loves picking out the colours (pink is his favourite)

•Beffica will sit Fungus down and gossip to them while she paints their nails and brushes their fur, Fungus has no idea what she's saying, but likes to feel included and picks up on some words

•the few words he's learnt from Beff are "Squeeb", "Like", and "OMGee"

•Beffica does understand that Fungus can be dangerous, and she knows when to stop pushing their buttons

Gramble

•Gramble met Fungus in the middle of the night, when they broke into town to steal supplies

•Fungus DIDN'T attack Gramble, only because he's smaller than Fungus and therefore not deemed a threat

•when Fungus stays in town, they become enamored by the barn, and the Bugsnax there (because Fungus refuses to eat them too) and hangs out in the outdoor pen with them

•Fungus inevitably imprints on Gramble and begins following him around and bringing him Bugsnax that are very hard to catch (cheepoofs, grapesketos, lollives, scoopy banoopys) and Gramble is Confused.jpeg

•Gramble learns to trust Fungus when the first fight breaks out at the party (The "that's why your wife left you" Scene) and Fungus defends Gramble, literally standing between him and Wambus

•now Gramble accepts Fungus as family, and is just mildly frightened of them

Wiggle

•with Fungus constantly following Gramble around, it was only a matter of time until they met Wiggle

•Fungus took one look at her and was prepared to fight a bitch, but when Gramble stopped them from attacking her, they stopped being aggressive

•Fungus definitely wants that pink fluffy scarf around Wiggle's neck, but hasn't devised a plan to steal it yet

•Fungus doesnt understand how instruments work, so when Wiggle starts playing her banjo, Fungus is simultaneously frightened and interested

•Fungus begins loving listening to Wiggle's music and starts hitting the ground in percussion with the music

•Wiggle will never pass up on an adoring fan of course, and starts teaching Fungus how to make music, Fungus learns nothing, but is happy to have attention

•Fungus has ended up with the Banjo before, and absolutely tried to eat it

•(Fungus has worn Wiggle's glasses before and was fully prepared to wear them forever)

Triffany

•Triffany would find Fungus in one of the ruins, probably lost

•Triffany would be confused, but curious

•Fungus trusts Triffany quickly, as she's sensible and knows a feral creature when she sees one, so takes her time

•Fungus likes to try and help piece history together with Triffany, but obviously he has no idea what he's ever doing, so he isn't really much help

•Triffany's accent is completely foreign to Fungus, so they can have problems understanding some of her pronunciations, however, they absolutely adore her accent and loves listening to her talk

•Triffany is most likely the Grumpus who brought Fungus to town, probably to show Wambus the creature she adopted, and ask Floofty if any of this makes sense

•Fungus likes to chew on bones Triffany gives him, it helps sharpen his teeth and subdue his pure, feral rage

Cromdo

•Fungus would take a VERY long time to trust Cromdo, due to his sleezy nature

•Fungus absolutely wants whatever Cromdo is selling (because they're a hoarder) but doesn't know of the economy, only knows stick. Fungus will buy material objects with sticks and leaves or Cromdo will die

•a sick part of Cromdo wants to sell Fungus to Floofty for science, but knows that would be the second most illegal thing he's ever done (Grumpus Trafficking is no joke-)

•Fungus would probably want a tie, let's be honest

•to Cromdo, Fungus is like a cat, running around scratching the walls and knocking things off of tables

•Cromdo isn't afraid to scold Fungus, and Fungus will learn to listen in due time

•despite the tension and issues the two have, Fungus does it to show care for Cromdo, everyone knows this but Cromdo

•Fungus likes the word "Pal"

Chandlo

•Chandlo is Fungus' favourite. No questions asked.

•he found Fungus in a tree and brought him home to Snorpy, like gay people do

•"Snorp-dawg, I found a cryptid!"

"you WHAT"

•Fungus appreciates Chandlo so fucking much

•didn't attack for same reason as Gramble (small = not a threat)

•Chandlo likes Fungus because they're a hard-core survivor of the wild, and Chandlo vibes with that

•Fungus originally likes to watch Chandlo work out, finding it fascinating; but eventually starts joining in when Chandlo offers

•Chandlo just wants to keep this feral creature, that is all

•Fungus learns so many words from Chandlo, that he accidentally turns Fungus into a feral version of himself

Snorpy

•Snopry is (rightfully so) terrified of Fungus

•what is it? What's it gender? Why does it barely speak? How much sentience does it have? DOES IT WORK FOR THE GRUMPINATI??!

•but of course, Chandlo wants to keep it and Snorpy can't say no, so he ends up playing babysitter when Chandlo is gone

•Fungus, on the other hand, is enamored. Obviously-

•Fungus understands so little when it comes to Snorpy, all these conspiracies and big words and intricate connections, Fungus has no brain

•Fungus likes to listen though, and likes to look at the conspiracy board (also likes to hoard all the red string lol)

•of course Snorpy warms up to them, mostly when Floofty starts trying to steal them for experiments; Snorpy feels a newfound need to protect this gremlin from his mad scientist sibling

•Fungus just likes the attention

Floofty

•Floofty kidnaps Fungus for experiments (not clickbait)

•I mean, can you blame them? How does Fungus exist? A completely feral Grumpus in a society of modernized, evolved, civilised Grumpuses? They gotta know how Fungus works

•however, Floofty underestimated Fungus' energy, and now they're shouting at a gremlin, who is barking back at them

•Floofty loses so much sleep over keeping Fungus in one place.

•"fascinating...your survival instinct is completely intact- stop chewing my leg."

•Floofty tries to teach Fungus basic language, but learns the next day that Fungus forget everything they learnt

•Fungus doesn't know what to make of Floofty

•Is this good or bad? Friend or foe?

•if Floofty has to hurt Fungus to get what they want, they WILL be attacked (i.e taking blood or testing pain level)

•sometimes Floofty just snaps and throws Fungus into a river to "experiment" if Fungus can swim

•Fungus does like the attention though

Shelda

•Shelda is one of the only Grumpuses that Fungus shows concern and care for OPENLY

•He gives her gifts of sticks and rocks and leaves, and he'll throw a tantrum if she won't take them

•he likes to sit next to her while she meditates so she doesn't get lonely 😳😳

•the only problem with this is that Fungus is easily bored, and will start making noises and bumping rocks together

•and it's very distracting when you're trying to meditate

•But Fungus knows this and tries to behave as best as they can, they wanna make Grandma Shelda happy

•they become a part of Shelda's little fanclub, and listens to her wisdom despite not knowing ANYTHING she's saying

•he pretends he knows, nodding and agreeing all the time

Eggabell

•Eggabell, being a doctor, just wants to get her hands on Fungus to take care of him

•I mean, he's messy, and covered in mud and sticks and leaves

•he probably has the Grumpus equivalent of mange

•he DEFINITELY has fleas

•and she just wants to sit them down and clean them up

•but Fungus isn't having it, and is actually a little scared of Eggabell, as they don't know why she wants them to stay still

•Fungus will learn to trust her, and let her take care of the fleas and rabies and mange

•and when he does, he will never leave her side afterwards. He'll recognise she made him feel better and constantly want her attention

•He may get a little distracting for her sometimes, but she knows he means well

•also, because Fungus is a good listener, Eggabell airs her problems out to them, she knows they don't know what she's saying, but it's nice to rant to them while they eat a whole tree, bit by bit

Lizbert

•there isn't many opportunities where Liz and Fungus would interact sadly, however, I feel like if they did they would get along far too well

•Liz bringing Fungus on adventures around the island? Fungus showing Liz little cave systems they've found so she has shortcuts around the areas? Makes my heart ache-

•Fungus wants the hat, give her the hat Liz-

•because Liz is such a simple name, it would most likely be the only one Fungus would learn

•I can imagine Liz getting distracted from studying Bugsnax and instead studying Fungus, until Filbo or Egg reminds her she has more important things to do

•Fungus is incredibly agile, and I can imagine them scaling trees or cliffs and finding a safer route for Liz to take

•Fungus is Liz's emotional support adventure dog

The Journalist

This would be in terms of if Fungus was a character you'd meet;

•You would meet Fungus in Sugarpine Woods, but somewhere far away from Chandlo and Snorpy.

•Fungus would flee from you once spotted (sorta like the Snaxsquach, but not at certain times).

•You would then have a quest to ask around to see if anyone knew what this Grumpus was (and you would receive a resounding "no").

•The puzzle would then be figuring out how to cohearse Fungus into trusting you, which would be with sticks and rocks, making a pile of them to bait Fungus from hiding.

•Once you would have their trust, you would still have quests to complete before they move from their spot and follow you to town, this would include collecting more sticks and rocks, and finding Bugsnax so Fungus can have friends.

•They'd communicate these quests very poorly, you would probably have to rely on the quest descriptions to figure out what the objective is.

•After enough errands, Fungus would make a happy noise and start following you around. Then, if you walk into town, you approach Filbo and he takes Fungus off your hands.

•When you return to Snaxburg, it's in anarchy as Fungus has gotten out of control. Your next objective is "survive". Eventually, through sticks, rocks and leaves, you calm Fungus down enough for them to live in Snaxburg without killing anyone.

•However, some side-quests would involve Fungus, and the other residents having to deal with them now.

I had this neat idea that all this is optional, you don't have to even do the main quest for Fungus because they weren't supposed to be part of the expedition and know no one. So why interview them, not like you can anyway. You can escape Snaktooth with all the normal residents and leave Fungus on the island, then their fate would be left unknown (but man I'd feel guilty for it 😟).

[grlffithsgay]

Since Nikolai is my favorite character in bsd, I was looking into the author's work and life and I discovered that he was actually gay!!!

There's very little information about it, but I found part of his diary in a collection of LGBTQ+ Russian short stories. Apparently, people mistook his diary for fiction and published it. But, as the editor of the collection said himself, it's obviously part of a larger, personal diary. It's very explicit and emotional so, probably, the entire thing was destroyed. However, what we have is enough to conclude that he was truly in love with this man, Vielhorsky, who died one year after they met.

I decided to transcribe it and post it here, not because I think it has anything to do with the character, but because I believe it's a important prove that gay people exist since, well... forever, and that love is real. It was back in the 1800s and it still is nowadays.

So, with no more delaying, here it goes:

NIGHTS AT THE VILLA

They were sweet and tormenting, those sleepless nights. He sat, ill, in the armchair. I was with him. Sleep dared not touch my eyes. Silently and involuntarily, it seems, it respected the sanctity of my vigil. Its was so sweet to sit near him, to look at him. For two nights already we have been saying "thou" to each other. How much closer he has become to me since then! He sat there just as before, meek, quiet, and resigned. Good God! With what joy, with what happiness I would have taken his illness upon myself! And if my death could restore him to health, with what readiness I would have rushed toward it!

* * *

I did not stay with him last night. I had finally decided to stay home and sleep. Oh, how base, how vile that night and my despicable sleep were! I slept poorly, even though I had been without sleep for almost a week. I was tormented by the thought of him. I kept imagining him, imploring and reproachful. I saw him with the eyes of my soul. I hastened to come early to him and felt like a criminal as I went. From his bed he saw me. He smiled with his usual angel's smile. He offered his hand. He pressed mine lovingly.

"Traitor." he said, "You betrayed me."

"My angel," I said, "Forgive me. I myself suffered with your suffering. I was in torment all night. My rest brought me no repose. Forgive me!"

My meek one! He pressed my hand. How fully rewarded I was for the suffering that the stupidly spent night had brought me!

"My head is weary," he said. I began to fan him with a laurel branch. "Ah, how fresh and good," he said. His words were then... what were they? What would I have not given, what earthly goods, those despicable, those vile, those disgusting goods... no, they are not worth mentioning. You into whose hands will fall -if they will fall- those incoherent, fleebe lines, pallid expressions of my emotions, you will understand me. Otherwise they will not fall into your hands. You will understand how repulsive the entire heap of treasures and honors is that attracts those wooden dolls which are called people. Oh, with what joy, with what anger I could have trampled underfoot and squashed everything that is bestowed by the mighty scepter of the Tsar of the North, if I only knew that this would buy a smile that indicated the slightest relief in his face.

"Why did you prepare such a bad month of May for me?" He said to me, awakening in his armchair and hearing the wind beyond the window-panes that wafted the aroma of the blossoming wild jasmine and white acacia, which mingled with the whirling rose petals.

* * *

At ten o'clock I went down to see him. I had left him there hours before to get some rest, to prepare [something] to him, to afford him some variety, so my arrival would give him more pleasure. I went down to him at ten o'clock. He had been alone for more than one hour. His visitors had long since left. The dejection of boredom showed on his face. He saw me. Waved his hand slightly.

"My savior." He said to me. They still sound in my ears, those words.

"My angel! Did you miss me?"

"Oh, how I missed you." He replied.

I kissed him on the shoulder. He offered his cheek. We kissed; he was still pressing my hand.

He did not like going to bed and hardly ever did. He preferred his armchair and the sitting position. That night the doctor ordered him to rest. He stood up reluctantly and, leaning on my shoulder, moved to his bed.

My darling! He weary glance, his brightly colored jacket, his slow steps- I can see it all, it is all before my eyes.

He whispered in my ear, leaning on my shoulder and glancing at the bed: "Now I'm a ruined man."

"We will remain in bed for only half an hour," I said to him, "and then we'll go back to your armchair".

I watched you, my precious, tender flower! All the time when you were sleeping or merely dozing in you bed or armchair, I followed your movements and your moments, bound to you by some incomprehensible force.

How strangely new my life was then and, at the same time, I discerned in it a repetition of something distant, something that once actually was. But it seems hard to give an idea of it: there returned to me a fresh, fleeting fragment of my youth, that time when a youthful soul seeks fraternal friendship with those of one's age, a decidedly juvenile friendship, full of sweet, almost infantile trifles and mutual show of tokens of tender attachment; the time when it is sweet to gaze into each other's eyes, when your entire being is ready to offer sacrifices, which are usually not even necessary. And all those feelings, sweet, youthful, fresh - alas! Inhabitants of a vanishing world - all these feelings returned to me. Good Lord! What for? I watched you, my precious, tender flower. Did this fresh breath of youth waft upon me only so that I might suddenly and irrevocably sink into even greater and more deadening coldness of feelings, so that I might become all at once older by a decade, so that I might see my vanishing life with even greater despair and hopelessness? Thus does a dying fire send its flames up into the air, so that it might illuminate with its flickering the somber walls and then disappear forever.

Source: Out Of The Blue, Kevin Moss.

[incorrect-mha-bnha]

Headcannon/Au Drabble

Kirishima is standing too close to a villain when Bakugou detonates a viscous blast, not taking into consideration that he couldn’t harden everything immediately without fair warning. Kirishima ends up going deaf because of the close proximity.

Nitroglycerin is addtictive, therefore? Midoriya has been around Bakugou the longest (excluding his parents which would have been warned by a doctor awhile ago) and is probably addicted to it despite Bakugou’s many attempts to keep their distance. Midoriya is just a crackhead.

Shigaraki was never able to play patty cake as a kid and that’s depressing in itself.

Ship hc: Person A plays video games with friends and wears a headset. Person B doesn’t play but likes wearing a pair and sitting in their S/O’s lap while talking with everyone.

The Joker/Harley Q trope for a couple dynamic is really valid in many BNHA ships. Person A and B are very capable heroes/people that know how to defend themselves but like to call their S/O in times of trouble. Person A is stopped by a bad guy and calls out for Person B with pure enjoyment for what is about to go down. All the villain hears is loud banging as B gets closer.

Bakugou is actually really amazing at doing makeup and hairstyles, along with doing nails. I’m going to say he learned most of that from self taught occasions, his mom, maybe some aunts and Best Jeanist. ANYWAY, all the class girls love to ask Bakugou for some pampering whenever they can. They always win him over after the fifth or sixth time they beg or give some sort of puppy eyes but Bakugou would never admit to actually liking doing those things.

Kirishima is the type of guy friend to carry pads/tampons in his bag at all times just incase any of the girls may need emergency supplies. He may go as far as bringing Tylenol or even an extra hoodie.

Bakugou owns a lot of house plants, and for many reasons. He’s the best and pretty smart which means he’s eco friendly. What does eco friendly entail? Going green! I hc that he probably refused to show his room because it’s completely jungled out (or full of cute plants and fancy pots). Based on his personality and my own projection, he’d like a plant that isn’t too demanding on care but I doubt he’d mind a challenge. Maybe a handful of succulents and a good amount of cacti- throwing in some Devil’s Ivy and a cute palm tree. Bakugou could spend hours tending to them, watering and building a nice ledge to rest them on just before his window. Indulging in new pots and fancy equipment for the sake of being extra. It’s all about the principle really. Plants produce oxygen, not to mention that some are really good for health as well.

BAKUGOU IS TRANS (but I would never press that on anyone)

Deaf Bakugou?? At a young age when Bakugou was first starting to learn about his quirk, he unleashed a very large, uncontrolled explosion way too close to his ears. That resulted in him becoming completely deaf in one ear and partially in the other.

Shouto is partially blind/visually impaired/completely blind in his right (left??) eye thanks to the BOILING HOT WATER being poured on his EYE. You can’t tell me homeboy didn’t get some sort of damage done from that besides some gnarly burns.

Kaminari has ADHD

Kirishima is extremely roudy and wild, also gay. Very gay.

Kirishima is trans (there are many things that point to this conclusion). Such as: If a transmasc got top surgery, he wouldn’t wear a fucking shirt again either. Talking manly and wanting to be manly is like the basis of what trans guy are working on. And the whole thing about him being gay? Is he really attracted to them or does he want to be them????

They aren’t allowed to have animals in the dorms despite a lot of begging done by all. However, Bakugou decided to say fuck you to the rule and has a bunch of animals in his room. Now. He gets away with it for a few reasons. 1) He isn’t loud about it, doesn’t go around showing them off or boasting like usual. Won’t bring them out of the dorm or let anyone see when he brings supplies back. 2) No one would suspect Bakugou to be such an animal lover or one to break that rule. Sad to say, he does. Many times over the course of high school, in fact. What animals could he possibly have? HMmMm let’s think, shall we? No doubt a hamster, a real grumpy one though. It has to have personality. A Bearded Dragon, Ball Python, a few Corn snakes. Maybe a gecko. But you have to believe he has a cat too. There is no way he wouldn’t. A furry brat that keeps him company while he studies and works out? Jumping on his back as he does yoga and sleeps on his face at night. There is no way. The best part is that the cat is deaf, which is why he adopted it. He went in looking for another lizard and came out with a sassy feline with no hearing. So what? He went soft.

Midoriya would be the first to go to jail between him and Bakugou. Hands down. Think about it... He broke numerous laws just to get a friend back and had no guilt for it. He was just all ‘Ehh, what you gonna do about it?’ when the fuzz pulled up to press charges. Bakugou is just crass and volatile, he threatens to kill people... but has he ever been seen killing someone? In conclusion, Midoriya is a delinquent covered up by his positive cinnamon bun nature.

Alright, personal projection time!! Kirishima bites and chews ice cream. Denki eats soup with a straw. Shouto eats cereal with a fork, “What? I don’t like too much milk. It strains out this way.”. Bakugou is just as bad, he’s a teenager and will do shit just because. Aka, he will go down to the kitchen in the middle of the night for some milk n cookies. When he realizes there is no more milk, he will throw a silent fit because he wanted those damn cookies. Begrudgingly though, he will pour a glass of water and dunk his Oreos in then eat em like that. I don’t make the rules, it’s just what happens.

Bakugou needs constant love and constant positive reinforcement along with help on his anxiety. Give that boy a service dog. A big fluffy golden service dog. A really large, extremely fluffy service down he can hug and hide his face in whenever something is bothering him. A real big puppy that makes him feel secure and makes him laugh. Damn it! Give him a dog now!

Kirishima is rowdy and wild. Baby boy is a teenager. Not to mention is invisible and hyped up on manly shit. THERE IS NO BOUNDS FOR WHAT HE WOULD DO. Think about it. He’d literally card Todoroki into setting him on fire just to see how long he can hold his hardening for. He would have Inasa drop him from the FUCKING SKY just for the hell of it. Hello? Is this thing even on? Kirishima is wild.

Dabi is afraid of spiders. Don’t ask me to elaborate. He just seems like a man with that primal fear.

BAKUGOU IS A FUCKING FASHION ICON OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL. SO FUCKING HELP ME I WILL SCREAM THIS LOUD N PROUD—

Bakugou and Midoriya don’t know how to tie a tie. Midoriya learned that weird funky napkin trick shit from just giving the fuck up and saying “Oh, hey! That looks sorts similar!” And went with it. Bakugou just can’t. He can’t. The only reason his ID shows him with a tie is because Mitsuki tied it for him before hand, and he never let it happen since. They are hopeless. That is all.

[crawgluvr4]

(ao3)

They suspend the injections after three weeks. 

Jack insists that it’s just because they want to see what happens, and Reyes calls him an idiot, with what he hopes is a hint of affection.

“You mean they suddenly care?” Jack pushes. “They didn’t stop them after the first guys got sick. Why now?”

Reyes just looks at him over whatever magazine he’s reading, like a disapproving grandfather. “Man, I thought I was supposed to be the paranoid one.”

Jack pouts, but it makes Reyes grin, so he takes it on the chin.

--

Jack likes Reyes, as a roommate and a person, and much to the surprise of the other soldiers. Everyone else thinks Reyes is grumpy and cold, and Jack would concede that it took a solid two weeks of work to get him to open up a bit. But it had been worth it, because the guy had a wicked sense of humour despite the miserable atmosphere the soldier enhancement program carried like a plague. When the injections started a month in, Jack was glad to have Reyes as something approaching a friend, because it meant they both had someone to bitch to about the side effects.

And sure, Jack might have a bit of a crush, but that was irrelevant. They’ve known each other all of three months, and he doesn’t even know Reyes’ first name, because he’s private as hell even with the people he says he likes. All Jack knows about him for sure is he was from L.A., he was given the number 24, and that he was a vegetarian, much to his own frustration. Everything else was Jack’s educated guessing or inference from vague stories.

Jack keeps his own secrets, of course, masked by a positive attitude and deflective jokes. Out of some weird respect for Reyes, he doesn’t mention his first name either. It keeps a veneer of professionalism, making the program feel more regular army and less like some lab experiment concocted as a punishment.

It was strange, that last line of thought. Everyone he’d talked to here, or overheard, had mentioned being frankly shit soldiers. Everett, down the hall, said he hadn’t even passed basic and was about to quit when he was approached by some colonel and asked to join the S.E.P. There were some who had been facing dishonourable discharges, and Reyes claimed he probably would have been facing charges of treason if the program hadn’t insisted he join. He hadn’t elaborated, and Jack was convinced he was lying, but it was possible as anything else.

Jack almost felt left out; as far as he knew his major sin was lying about being colourblind, when he was suddenly offered a place here. Nothing quite so dramatic as the others, but Reyes found it funny, so he felt at peace with it.

He didn’t read in too much to why Reyes’ approval, of sorts, made him feel better. It was irrelevant, after all.

--

What does happen is Jack starts bleeding, and doesn’t stop.

Two weeks after they stop the injections, Jack wakes up to Reyes hauling him out of bed and a nosebleed that soaks his pillow. He wants to ask what’s going on, but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is more blood.

“Jesus fuck,” Reyes says, and hauls Jack’s arm over his shoulder as they leave for the med bay.

He almost wants to laugh; until now he had felt completely fine, tired sometimes, no worse than anyone else. The taste of iron is overwhelming, and his legs fail him multiple times as they go, the bleeding only intensifying. He is surprised by how much dying actually hurts.

“Had to do this just as I was starting to like you, Morrison,” Reyes grimaces, as he sweeps Jack into a fireman’s carry. He’s trying to joke, but there’s fear in his voice that Jack’s never heard before, and that makes him panic more than the trail of blood he’s leaving in their wake.

When he’s next aware of where he is, they’re in the med bay. Reyes is arguing with a disinterested doctor, who is insisting they keep him for observation. Jack would feel validated about his conspiracy theory if it hadn’t been a matter of life and death for him. Everything is clammy, and his eyes are wet with what he knows isn’t tears.

“You can’t let him die,” Reyes shouts, and Jack feels warm despite the blood loss.

The doctor’s response doesn’t quite reach him, but he does hear something about necessary sacrifice. Jack isn’t sure if his own protest happens in his mind or in reality, but he does feel a warm hand on his arm, and that is just enough.

--

Jack swims in and out of consciousness for what feels like years; when he’s awake, everything is dull and he can taste and smell nothing but his own blood. There’s some noise, medical equipment and voices pushing through the veil and coming to him garbled and unintelligible, and he gives up trying to parse it, eventually. Every moment he’s conscious feels static and unchanging. It gets boring, when he can feel boredom.

Time passes, or it doesn’t. Every moment he’s aware of reminds him of the time he mistook a penny for some chocolate as a kid, to the point his teeth start to ache. When he does consciously see things, it looks like pennies, too. 

Jack wonders if he made a mistake, coming here. Agreeing that he had cheated, and to give up his autonomy to rectify it. Something he was used to his whole life. There was some measure of a choice, here, but when the world was ending it didn’t really feel like one. 

God, he thinks at one point. I didn’t even make it to twenty-one.

You will, says the presence at his side. You’ve made it this far, you’ll be okay.

It hasn’t spoken before, the figure. He’s not sure if it was the doctors, finally conceding he was worth more alive, or something more intangible and terrifying. It follows him regardless of how awake he is, warm and soothing despite his fear of it. Whether his world is blurred with blood or darkness he can feel it, keeping constant vigil. Jack eventually calls it Death, deciding it must be protecting its quarry, waiting for the moment the doctors give up and let him go. 

A whisper cuts through his own thoughts - you’re not going to die, and I’m not Death, for fuck’s sake.

Which is something Death would say, he’s sure, although Jack had never thought about it until now. But he was fine with dying if Death was so casual in conversation. He would have hated to try to parse some grand cryptic speech.

You’re going to live, it says. You’re not going to die. Quietly; you can’t.

There’s guilt in the whisper this time. Jack feels almost apologetic at having pinned the voice as Death rather than anything else; it could be a ghost, a spirit, an angel.

I’ve heard that one before. Amused.

Jack never had been particularly invested in faith, or angels, so that comes as a surprise. He accepts the thought for a while, drifting, and either seconds or years later chances: are you at least a famous one?

The angel laughs, and it’s warm and familiar in ways he can’t pin through the haziness of where he is. Oh yeah, one of the best.

Jack has no idea why God would send an important angel to look over a dying gay kid from a corn farm, especially when there are certainly people more deserving, but he is in no place to argue. The penny-taste sharpens, and there is the loom of the angel again nearby, more present than ever.

I came here for you because I wanted to, it says, and Jack slips back into darkness.

They don’t communicate again, but the warmth is there whenever he is able to feel, even when the sensation of blood overwhelms everything else. Whenever there’s pain, there’s a soothing whisper or the memory of a touch. Jack likes this, in a way, even as he expects the inevitable end. There’s a gentleness to this other he hadn’t experienced in a long time; if his last moments were indeed his last, he was thankful there was a semblance of love in them.

Jack, in some way, smiles. 

--

Jack wakes up to penniless vision, and heavy warmth on his shoulder.

He’s aware of the amount of tubes and wires attached to him almost immediately. Every part of him hurts, and even though the only light is a dim lamp across the room his eyes sting from the brightness. The weight on his shoulder isn’t uncomfortable, though, and he lets himself absorb the heat for a while before he turns his aching head and eyes to look.

Reyes is leaning over on the bed beside him, head resting against Jack’s shoulder, dozing lightly. Jack feels himself go red immediately, and then is startled that he has any blood left to do so. He’s breathing evenly, and when he clenches his hands there is a pulse he doesn’t remember being so strong before. His heart monitor, thankfully, does not go wild, remaining steady.

Huh, he thinks. I lived. 

His movements wake Reyes, delayed slightly by sleep. They blink at each other momentarily, before Reyes jolts upright, clenching at the one part of Jack’s arm that’s free of wires. 

“Hrgh,” is all Reyes says, after a long pause. Jack thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. 

Reyes coughs, then buries his face in his free hand, rubbing his eyes and orienting himself. “Right, yeah. Okay, are you aware of where you are?”

Jack nods. His throat is too dry to speak.

Reyes peers at him through a crack in his fingers, like he can’t quite trust his own eyes. Jack nods again for emphasis.

“Okay. Good enough for me.” Reyes’ hand is still clinging to his arm, and Jack feels himself getting flustered. Reyes sits back up and presses some button on the wall. “Doctor will be here soon, assuming it’s the halfway decent one on duty. You better be lucid this time, though, or they’re going to kill me.”

Jack smiles, and nods, and tries a very shitty and weak thumbs up. Reyes watches it all with open wonder, as if he’d never seen Jack move before. As if he’s genuinely pleased that Jack is alive.

Jack is thankful the doctor comes in right as the heart monitor really does start to pick up.

--

Eternity ends up being more like three weeks, and Jack is almost embarrassed when the doctor describes his constant, violent exsanguination as if it was all some glorified overreaction. She gives him water for his throat, and says he has best be grateful that medical technology had meant he hadn’t needed feeding tubes and the like. He stares at the water and tries to be.

Jack had been lucky, apparently, that there were enough blood donors of his type at the base, as well as the problem being anticipated enough that they knew of potential treatments. A lot of jargon he doesn’t understand or really care about, he just nods along even as the doctor mentions coagulants and returning to the injection courses in the same breath, as if they hadn’t almost killed him. 

He had been lucky. Four others had died. Lucky sure didn’t feel like the right word.

Reyes glares at the doctor the entire time, mouth set in a hard line, and eventually she gets so uncomfortable she cuts her speech short and leaves with a vague promise of checkups. He softens the moment the door closes behind her, and manages a smile as Jack leans back, exhausted.

“You really had everyone worried,” he says, at last.

“Yeah--” Jack swallows, grimaces at how awful the words feel and taste. “Ugh. My many fans.”

Reyes shifts, uncomfortably. “I know I’m not exactly the most exciting face to wake up to, no need to sound so disappointed.”

Jack immediately thinks, There’s nothing else I’d rather see, then gets so profoundly embarrassed he chokes mid-sip of his water. Reyes laughs, awkwardly pats him on the back, being careful not to jostle the IV.

Reyes laughs, and it feels familiar and warm, and there’s no haze to fight through this time. Jack’s hands tense around the cup. 

“I appreciate,” Jack starts, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “you being here. Nearly dying is… scary.”

“No shit.” Reyes half smiles, amused. “Knew you’d need, well, something vaguely familiar to wake up to. And I figured none of the other idiots on this base had the patience for it.”

Jack feels caught between intrigue, and dread. “So you stayed the whole time?” A small pause, and he tries to deflect: “Couldn’t let me go ‘til I wrote you in the will, right?”

Reyes furrows his brow. “Yeah.” Then he chuckles, almost to himself. “Had to get you to leave your farm to me, or whatever.”

Jack snorts; he has absolutely no claim to his family’s farm. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

“It’s just corn, how hard can it be?”

Jack knows he’s never told Reyes that. Consciously. “Pretty hard. You don’t look like you’ve ever set foot on farmland.”

“I have,” Reyes insists, and Jack notices how warm he is, even when they’re not touching. “My mom had a friend we visited once. Somewhere out of state, don’t remember where. I got to churn butter.”

There is so much pride in the way he says it, Jack bursts into laughter despite himself. Reyes looks offended for a moment before covering his mouth to try and suppress his own laugh, and failing horribly.

He rights himself, eventually, the cup of water miraculously unspilled. “Butter, right. Don’t know why I ever doubted your farmhand capabilities.”

“Butter’s important.” Reyes smiles, pats Jack on the arm. “Hey, look. You need rest.”

“I was literally unconscious for three weeks, dude, I’m dying to move.” Jack shuffles painfully into a better sitting position, body protesting. “I totally feel like I could do laps.”

“No you don’t,” Reyes says, pushing him back into the bed. “Get some real rest, Morrison.”

Jack feels very compelled to do something stupid, weird sense of respect or no. He had nearly died, after all.

“Jack, by the way.” He tilts his head. “You don’t have to call me that, but I feel I owe you my name for nearly dying on you.”

Reyes stares at him for a minute, face blank. Jack gets increasingly nervous, like he’s crossed some sort of unspoken line, assuming that Reyes being there meant they were anything more than friends by necessity. And Reyes was very private, maybe he didn’t want to share names ‘cause it felt too personal? What if he-

“Gabriel,” Reyes says at last. There’s a pause, and then he grins, sticks out his hand like they’re meeting for the first time. Jack shakes it.

“Like the angel,” Jack says, dumbly.

“Yeah.” Gabriel’s smile is warm, and knowing. “One of the best.”

[anonil88]

We are are who we are Episode 7 lb

Look at all those chickens

So quiet on election night thats wild. Maybe because they just don't care.

Sarah showed up in sweats, this is bad.

Damn they are dead, damn.

Trust they see more in barracks, a lil tit is not gonna hurt anyone. Also damn Chloe them thangs are sitting. Hello.

No time at all to pray.

I mean Fraser, your mom is gay she has a bit of semblance that trans people exist. Also taking a child that is not your own to an enfo assessment can turn out awful for that kid if their parents don't accept them. Especially if you are not in a position to take care of and invite that child into your home to raise.

Fraser get your head out your selfishness, be aware of your audience.

God, did their friend die?

A moment of silence simultaneously is eerie.

Oh no ;(

Damn an iud.

I'm with curly haired kid not the blonde one.

Based on Fraser being blunt like that with 0 I still think he may be somewhat on the autism spectrum or at least he has anxiety.

I hope Danny doesn't kill himself.

R.I.P Craig

She is only gay sometimes aka not now, that switch up is hella cold.

Oh, well I guess he gets his bluntness from Maggie.

Basically Maggie you are the distraction and she is breaking up with you.

DAYUM, she does have a son though. One who no one views as her own cause he's not biological which is weird. She already has those insecurities and everyone keeps reminding her of thatm

Grief bonding is real.

Danny is snapping, Sam sees this is ridiculous, and Harper/Cait ran to Fraser fast.

Wait Fraser and Cait could still be a thing, even though I doubt it, cause they aren't cis and Fraser definitely isn't straight.

Gosh this is a bleak group vigil. Oh wow, Craig's wife is there.

So military couples both wear their blues/greens at formal events together gotcha.

Harper/Cait's dad can get drop kicked rn i swear.

Fraser just being a support for Harper/Cait aww he finally got that he said the wrong thing earlier.

Leave her be Maggie.

Sarah really is mothering these two kids, oh fuck Richard is drunk. Damn he knew all 3 soldiers who died closely.

Its not her fault they died also, there is a chain of command. Someone gave her an order and she went along with/followed the order. If she had said no more troops it would have gone over her head and still happened.

This episode is really really good so far. The pacing, the story, just really well done. This series as a whole is a slow burn to the end it seems cause so far this is super cohesive.

Back to the house where they last saw Craig.

Ahh religious battles. So he was gon say no to the alcohol but yes to the coke??

Sam doing coke and ketamine, chileeee.

Drugs and alcohol only provide temporary relief from grief y'all. It's something you actually have to work through even though it hurts.

Yea please someone go follow his widow please. I mean technically even if you divorce someone and have kids you will always be bonded to them. Technically it always follows you that you've been married before in your paper trail.

Noooo Fraser Noooo, you can't just pop up on people like that.

Fraser seeing this half-naked man is bumbling. Yea kid, they were having sex or about to. You interrupted

Maggie is going to put this child under house arrest i swear.

Not these two weirdos baiting a child into a sexual encounter/threesome.

Come thru Dev with this soundtrack though we love a good radiohead moment.

Oh thank the lord he came to his senses, yes lets get out of there Fraser. He clung to that man like a scared leaf and looked at that woman with so much confusion. If Sarah finds out he's getting soldier man is fired.

Okay forest lmao

Thats how you fuck up your bike, don't do that.

Close the fridge before you defrost is damn.

Not him looking for a gun and then deciding on alcohol. Boy it is perfectly okay, you weren't ready and thats okay you aren't old enough and that man is far too old for you.

The freezer please.

Alcohol poisoning here he comes. Where is Maggie? I know Sarah is busy at work but where is Maggie. He feels like a failure because what he was looking for was a male figure to connect to and its muddled with attraction.

Oh there they are, awesome. He is so mad at Sarah. Maggie really can be an excellent mother when Fraser needs it. Glad they are home to take care of him.

They can be soulmates and not fuck.

As I said sex doesn't heal the pain of grief.

Soundtrack is 🔥🔥🔥

Yo Danny stop, omg they all are snapping, this is someone else's house. This is why you don't do psychedelics right when you greive or something traumatic happens. Those folks gonna enter their house and be pissed.

I wonder if the bottle was like half full cause he drank an entire thing of whiskey.

Oh awesome he got his moms to help, yay and Maggie is a doctor too so that works out well.

It is telling that they felt safer calling Fraser and his parents, rather than their own. Glad Danny is okay though.

Kids really don't allow for no funny bidness.

Oop thats a subtle, "I know you're fucking my wife so stop."

But she said it straight up with her wife, like I know why and what you did but let's not do that. Oh so both parents think their kids are bad influences on one another.

Damn so she habitually does this, their relationship has so many unstable variables and factors.

Awe they are on skype, also I now remember Harper/Cait told Fraser not to kiss anyone else.

Clearly Jennifer is still not watching her kids because her son just left out the door. Her son just left and she didn't even ask him what he was doing.

Is he gonna pray? Set up to look like something bad but he's in reality going to pray?

This gif is beautiful

I am excited for the finale, if this is the 2nd to last episode. They both gonna fall into their queerness fully.

[arcticdementor]

Warning: a longpost

Tensions between the social effects and "imperatives" of technological developments and elements of our human natures are not new — people have been debating it as far back as Diogenes, Confucius, and Laozi. But in recent discussions, I note a rather stark polarity.

On the one end, you have the people for whom the human must be subordinated to the technological. Issues created by technology cannot be fought, only individually adapted to, mostly via more technology. The people who will admit — or even go on at length — about the toxicity of social media… and yet for whom the idea of actually doing anything about it — other than individually tuning out if you can — is anathema, and they react with horror when you raise the possibility. People whose response to widespread obesity, particularly among the poor, as a result of modern lifestyles is pushing bariatric surgery (like some doctors friends and family have dealt with). Or at further extreme, singularitarian or singularitarian-adjacent ends, the people who look at our society's increasing difficulty producing future generations, and say either that it's no biggie because Any Day Now™ we'll cure aging and no longer need future generations, or it's no biggie because Any Day Now™ we'll figure out the tech for mass-manufacture of future generations like Brave New World or Battletech's Clans. At the furthest, you have the people who take the Marxist arguments about the "inherent contradictions" between industrial "capitalism" and human flourishing… and say 'so much the worse for humanity; time to start engineering the AI corporations to replace us dumb monkeys' like Nick Land.

Then you have the people at the other end, who go Luddite. Again, you can go back to filthy hobo Diogenes for this one. You've got the "environmentalists" who see anything more advanced than being a hunter-gatherer as the "rape of Mother Nature" and who unironically quote Agent Smith. Then there's the Right-wing primitivists who note that preindustrial societies cannot afford much leftism, and therefore argue that giving up electricity, indoor plumbing, medicine that works, etc. (let alone escaping this small, fragile planet) are all a small price to pay to Own the Libs.

But Confucius, while acknowledging that the creations of the Sage Kings, in bringing us from the "Greater Harmony" to the "Lesser Peace," created a certain tension between societal requirements and our human nature, pointed out that such things, like buildings, and clothing, and fire, and agriculture, and writing, et cetera, are worth the trade-off as opposed to a more natural lifestyle as naked cavemen. But, accepting the trade-off doesn't mean we can't do things to ameliorate those tensions and try to reduce the negative impacts.

Tyler Cowen posited his future Average Is Over dystopia of the vast majority of the population relegated to being impoverished, packed into overcrowded favelas eating beans and bugs, pacified by VR, drugs, and omnipresent government surveillance and enforcement… and when confronted about the undesirability of such and how we might avoid it, simply proclaims it inevitable: the Economy has spoken, and we humans can only obey its dictates. Whatever happened to the idea that our tools and our economy exist to serve us, and our human needs, rather than us existing to serve their needs? Okay, probably most people who held that view from a secular perspective likely ended up embracing Marxism as the means of doing so, and then Marxism failed. (This links in to my unwritten potential post about how Wokism is neither Marxist nor postmodern, despite drawing partially from both.) And those who did so from a religious perspective ended up divided by their various specific sectarian views and given to "solutions" that boil down to unsupported individual piety — or else, being the Amish.

There's that whole bit about "unless you're over 60, you weren't promised flying cars. You were promised an oppressive cyberpunk dystopia." And plenty of people have covered this ground before, about how our visions of technological progress used to be about how it would make our lives better and allow us to better pursue our various human ends, but now are all about how it will make our lives worse and force us to pursue its various inhuman ends. Even the few "optimistic" visions are hyper-individualist, and when confronted about man's nature as a social animal, either insist that said needs will be met through "relationships" with individualized AI surrogates (the whole "2d > 3d," yay sexbots view), or else that the need for human connection will prove yet another "flaw" to be engineered out in whatever manner of "posthuman" creatures replace us.

I look back on those more optimistic visions. At what past societies considered a better future, before we gave up on it. And I note how even the utopian visions of 19th century socialists are, compared to our day, rather spectacularly un-Woke — and definitely better than 'soypunk dystopia, but at least with rainbow flags and nobody being misgendered while they toil for Amazon.'

And, of course, if you go further back, you eventually end up before any serious ideas of progress. Then, ideas about a better world were not speculations about the future, but about the afterlife. I recall a couple of discussions about Bleach, Soul Society, and the average Tenth Century Japanese peasant's idea of Paradise; or (IIRC, prompted by some terrible "humanity curbstomps the invading Legions of Hell who are wielding Bronze Age weapons against modern militaries" story on SpaceBattles) what a Bronze Age goat-herder would consider Heaven?

Are subordination to technological imperatives or Luddism really the only two choices? Are we really left with either the poor afflicted with starvation or the poor afflicted with obesity? For those of us who find the society "progress" has created increasingly alienated, and who prefer older visions and modes of living more attractive, is total renunciation and "going full Amish" really the only alternative?

I look at writers like Chesterton and Lewis and Tolkien, and their ideal social structures, and I think, isn't there some way that technological progress can be channeled towards allowing us — or, at least those of us who want to — to achieve a better, more comfortable, more broadly-available, less labor-intensive version of the Shire Hobbit lifestyle, rather than better digital circuses to numb us while we all eat bugs in our dorm tubes in Scat Francisco?

Or, for those of you so inclined, a better, more comfortable, more broadly-available, less labor-intensive version of the Oscar Wilde lifestyle? After all, I note that a perennial condemnation of aristocrats has been about what big, degenerate perverts they are behind closed doors — that de Sade got in trouble, more for atheism, but also for the "writing publicly about it" part? I mean, aside from maybe @ponteh2dhh1ksdiwesph2tres, where are the people trying to work out, instead of "Fully-Automated Luxury Gay Space Communism," how we might create "Fully-Automated Decadent Space Aristocracy"? Where are the people trying to use computers and AI to create a better version of the Imperial court of Elagabalus without all the slavery and need for foreign conquest to pay for its orgies?

Is there even a term for this idea, of using technology to create better versions of the past, rather than simply letting "progress" take us wherever it will, and all negative consequences treated as simply things we must each individually struggle to avoid and cope with, with all of us in competition against one another to become one of those chosen few ultra-rich tech overlords wealthy enough to escape living in the favelas, the few powerful enough to avoid ruination should one end up on the wrong end of Twitter cancelation?

Wow. Look at me, gloomy pessimist that I am, actually calling for some optimism and hope for the future. Yeah, I probably shouldn't have even bothered with the effort of writing this post. Because of course the only possible futures are all terrible.

[ofthelabyrinth]

Instructions: Always repost with the rules, answer the 11 random questions left for you and leave 11 more for the people you tag!

TAGGED BY: @moonwoken​

TAGGING: be gay do crime

questions i am answering

1. how are things going?

They’re going, man! They’re...going. I have the next two weeks off work which I’m not thrilled about (I actually love my job) but like...my bestie and I keep trading silly little gifts back and forth, so that’s cool. I think I’m mostly still reeling from the blow-out of a breakup and like...feeling like I don’t belong anywhere? Maybe my depression’s just kicking into high gear again but I feel like I’m not wanting/don’t belong anywhere but maybe work. Like everyone and everywhere else just tolerates me. IDK man.

2. if you were someone else’s muse, how would your mun describe you?

Depressed, spontaneous, fickle, lacking in self-esteem but always available to build others up, loves too quickly and too easily, book smart but so fucking stupid otherwise. :/

3. if you could only recommend me three songs, movies or books to get to know you better, which would they be?

Ooooo, this one’s kinda tough! Well, for starters, my go-to movie is The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I feel like knowing it’s my favorite movie (and having seen it at least once, lol) really explains a lot of my personality. What Rocky Horror can’t explain, my favorite novel probably can: Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes. I really am haunted by this book. My recommendation for a “song” would actually be the whole Beetlejuice: The Musical album, but I think “No Reason” and/or “Say My Name” nicely encapsulates either my split opinions (former) or my energies (latter).

4. what was it that first inspired you to write? what inspires you today?

My sixth grade English teacher. He was very supportive of my writing and became a touchstone for inspiration in my life. I really started down that track after his class, and even though I’m not doing what either of us ever thought I would, his words still ring true. I don’t really know if I have any inspirations today, though, per se. Performers, I guess. Most of my strongest muses/writing have been born out of my fascination with the performer/s I’ve used for their FC’s.

5. if you had to put together a team of 5 fictional characters plus yourself to save the world, who would you choose and why?

Captain Katherine Janeway, Q, Commander Spock, Doctor McCoy, and Charles Xavier (PatStew). I’m going to be honest here: between Janeway and Q...we don’t need anyone else. Q’s powers and Janeway’s moral compass in combination with Janeway’s leadership and Q’s simp status will solve the problem on the then and there. I just happen to like both Spock and McCoy and think they would contribute a lot of flavor to the adventure, although we’d need Xavier to mellow shit out when all those hot heads start to collide--in particular, Patrick Stewart’s Xavier, since he fits the Star Trek vibe and would thereby have a little more sway with Q than otherwise.

6. what is your favorite fictional trope? least favorite?

My favorite...ever? Period? At all? In all of tropedom? Dark circus/carnival. The exact flavor of the circus/carnival/other travelling show as well as the degree of darkness doesn’t matter, I just always end up drawn in and stupefied by it. I think it’s a combination of the tonal juxtaposition (the light, bright, fun, easygoing, smoke-and-mirrors sensation of the show juxtaposed to the darkness and the horror) and my unending fascination with performance and performance spaces being used outside of their “traditional”/majority context. Backstage mysteries have the exact same effect on me, as do haunted theatres. My least favorite was formerly the misuse of the Persephone myth--twisted by modern, romantic minds into a love story where one isn’t existent in the original mythos--but it has since swung back to that of the unaware Mary Sue/Gary Stu. It’s a trope that can be fun when the writer is self-aware enough to perceive it, but it’s otherwise irritating beyond belief.

7. what unpopular opinion do you have toward the rpc or tumblr?

Soft-blocking is an exercise in pointlessness, as it rarely actually results in the blocked party staying away. This website is too glitchy to make that kind of thing work. Have conversations with the people you’d rather soft- than hard-block about the offense they’ve caused or just hard-black them, myself included.

8. if you could spend one day with your main muse (or your muse of choice), what would that be like?

Look, I’ll be real. My muse of choice? Very much not advertiser-friendly, as they say on YouTube. The things we would do would horrify people unaware of my sex drive and wild attraction to him. A night of debauchery on all levels--because we’d spend a night, not a day, that’s just the way his canon rolls--and if unreleased canon has anything to tell, it’s that I’d end up pregnant with his son and then probably die but it might have been worth it, especially if we can skip the reality TV show in the middle. So let’s just pretend I said I’d spend a day getting high with Jareth and wandering around the Escher room tripping the most balls ever.

9. if you found yourself in one fictional universe of your choosing, which would it be and why?

................. I’d either end up in space on Star Trek because I’m a lonely space gay or I’d end up in a creepy gothic castle singing and dancing--is it Rocky Horror or Labyrinth?--and perhaps legitimately feeling like the siren I long to be as people compliment my voice.

10. a character you’ve always wanted to write?

Mirror!Spock. I wrote him once and I loved it and I would love to write him again, but I don’t use AOS canon so finding people to write with is often difficult.

11. what are five things that spark joy for you?

Space, Rocky Horror, singing, my pets (did I tell you about my new dog?), Renaissance Festivals.

.

my questions for you

1. how have you been holding up lately?

2. what are three surefire ways to make you smile/happy?

3. who is your comfort character and what are they like?

4. explain your URL!

5. what is one article of clothing you love above all others and why?

6. what is your favorite kind of thing to write? what about your least favorite?

7. what is one belief you hold but do not often share?

8. if you could choose one person (alive, dead, or fictional) to spend the day with, who would it be and what would you do?

9. what is one piece of media that continues to hold your attention?

10. what drew you to writing on tumblr?

11. what is one thing you wish you got to talk about more often?

[writhingcreature]

Prompt 5 - Stozier

"stozier w/ the song dear friend by dayglow" requested by @toomuchkenny

It changed everything.

And I don't mean IT it, though that changed a lot too. No, the Incident is what really turned the whole world on it's head- even compared to the demon clown that tried to swallow Stan whole. Maybe it was the clown that set it all off to begin with...

When it seemed to all finally be over, Stan couldn't look at Richie the same way again. All he could see is the bat in Richie's hand as they stood in the dark sewer, facing something that Stan was sure would be the end of them. Richie, with his bat, facing an actual monster that could so easily bring actual death to him with not fear but anger. Anger that drove him to curse the thing out and smash that stupid bat against its head as if something made of wood could do anything against a supernatural beast.

The rest of Summer there was too much trying to pull himself together- it wasn't until school started that Stan realized. He realized that loud noises set him off, and each time he would shrink towards Richie. He realized that Richie's shoulder was really comfortable and found himself constantly laying his head there or on Richie's chest to hear his heartbeat. He realized that Richie's smile was crooked and too wide but also incredibly contagious. He realized Richie was this light that had always seemed too warm and too bright and therefore was sometimes overwhelming even if Stan would take on Greta Bowie herself if she tried to do anything too stupid to the Trashmouth. He realized that what had been so much for him before was actually exactly what he needed.

Richie's light was guidance in the darkness, and warmth in the cold. As this blizzard began to consume him, Richie could always give him light and warmth and safety and made everything bearable and even wonderful. Suddenly his jokes weren't as stupid. Stan found himself rolling his eyes and glaring less and smiling and even laughing more and more often.

Suddenly, Stan realized something HUGE.

He was in love with Richie Tozier. He was in love with his best friend.

It didn't scare him. Maybe it should have. What would his parents say? What would Richie say? What would his friends think, if he was into guys? Wasn't it enough to be Jewish- he had to be gay too? He got enough trouble from the people of Derry as it was- this might be the thing that got him killed for real...

It didn't scare him though. Despite everything, he was only curious and really excited. Sometimes Richie made him question his feelings - the boy was smart, and his grades showed it, but the things that came out of his MOUTH sometimes - but at the end of the day, he always knew he stood in the same place. And all he could see was a future where he woke up and Richie was next to him. Older. And they were all cuddled up and Stan slipped out of bed and made breakfast and the sunlight was soft and warm and Richie was there to hug him and kiss him on the cheek and Stan didn't know why but he could see it so clearly and it excited him.

He kept almost telling Richie, but then he just couldn't. What if Richie didn't like him back? What if Richie was straight and Stan had to pretend he didn't care as they continued to be friends? It made him nervous. Not scared. Hesitant. Hesitant enough to keep his mouth shut.

But then one day the Incident happened.

They were at a dance. Bev and Mike has come together as friends, and the others had gone stag. Mike didn't go to their school so this allowed them all to be together and spend some time together. It was one of those nights where they were all feeling light and were in a good mood. One of those nights where they were five minutes from ditching the dance and going something fun and wild with just the seven of them.

A slow song came on. Mike offered Bev a dance. "I feel like I've cheated you, honestly. We're technically on a date. I owe you at least one dance."

She laughed. "Yeah, I'd be down for that." The two of them went off and chatted excitedly, smiling wide and enjoying the dance like none of the other people in the room seemed to be. That was one of the magics of friendship I suppose.

A girl approached Bill after a few seconds as the others loudly teased Bev and Mike, who were ignoring them. "Uh, would you like to dance with me?"

He seemed surprised, but pleasantly so. "Uh. Yeah, sure." She smiled, and they branched off.

The interaction seemed to encourage Ben, who set his face and stood to his feet, moving toward a girl. She saw him coming and immediately booked it. The three Losers left frowned. Ben did this a few times. Sometimes girls left before he approached. Sometimes they waited or he caught them off guard. It was about twenty seconds of agony that seemed to stretch an hour before a girl grabbed his shoulder as he passed her, attempting to get to someone else. They had a brief exchange before Ben, stunned, nodded and she grinned and they moved to the dance floor.

Eddie stood. "This is dumb. I'm going to the bathroom." And he was gone.

Stan swallowed, eyes flickering between Richie and the dance floor. He looked at Mike and Bev. Ben and Bill and their partners. He saw them all smiling and laughing softly and talking- even if Bill was a little awkward. He wanted so badly to take Richie's hand and pull him up. GOD he wanted it so badly.

He felt a hand on top of his. He jumped, looking over as Richie stood, pulling Stan after him. For a second he thought Richie was pulling him towards the floor, but when Stan was standing, Richie dropped his hand and nodded towards the door. "I need some air. Mind coming with me?"

"Sure," Stan replied, trying to swallow his disappointment. He needed to stop that nonsense immediately. Even if they were together, dancing together here would be suicide. Maybe not in a dead sense... though maybe it wouldn't be too far fetched to expect.

The two boys went outside. Richie walked a bit out more and Stan stayed back, leaning against the wall of the school. It was a cool night- a relief from the warm room inside, when they were dressed up.

Suddenly Richie whipped around, his expression unnervingly serious. "Do you want to play 20 Questions?"

A voice in Stan's mind told him to book it. Something about Richie's sincerity in a question that should have been anything but intense set Stan on edge. "Sure." It was the second time he'd said it, and he realized he hadn't said much all night actually. Richie looked amazing and it made Stan nervous.

"You go first," Richie offered.

Stan thought for a second. What did he have to ask Richie? He couldn’t ask the one question he craved the answer to the most... so he played it safe. "What's your favorite part about school?"

"Triangle." Richie was suddenly incredibly close, taking long strides that made Stan tense up and press into the wall, startled and suddenly unsure. Their faces were inches apart and Stan only had a single beat to realize 'triangle' was not an appropriate answer to his question before Richie demanded, "Do you like boys?"

A Doctor could have told him he was dead and Stan wouldn't have been surprised. "Excuse me?" It sounded like he was choking. The words were raspy and too breathy, and choppy and far too wet sounding. He cleared his throat. Richie seemed suddenly frustrated. He said something Stan didn't hear clearly. "What?" Stan asked, trying to get him to repeat it.

There was a single second as Richie looked away, seeming to debate. Then suddenly he locked eyes with Stan again, his face set, and he whispered, "Fuck it."

It happened so fast. Hands were holding onto Stan's neck and jaw. Lips were pressed to his. Hair tickled his forehead- and it wasn't his. He had done it special for tonight. No strand out of place. A leg bumped his. His eyes fluttered close as his brain realized all these bits of contact were from not just any set of body parts, but from Richie.

Richie Trashmouth Tozier was kissing him.

And it was AMAZING.

Stan's hands drifted to Richie's waist and he pulled him close. Richie melted into him and when they parted, they both let out a shaky breath they'd each been holding. No words necessary. However it had happened, they liked each other. For now, that's all that mattered.

That's not how it stayed for long.

By their senior year, it was becoming nearly impossible to keep Richie at bay. They were in a secret relationship, unable to be coupley at school or in front of their families or in public at all. Not at the movie theater or under the table at dinner. Stan even got paranoid about doing things they used to do all the time before they were dating. He was TERRIFIED of getting found out. Finally Richie lost it. "I understand the caution, I just... It feels like you don't want to be dating me. Recently, even in front of the others you've been- weird! Do you not want to be with me anymore?"

"Of course I do, Richie!" Stan snapped, hating that Richie would ever doubt for a second how much Stan treasured their relationship and looked forward to finally achieving that dream for the future that seemed so wonderfully possible now. "I love you!"

The argument ended when Richie stormed off. It got escalated and they were both yelling and admitting emotions and fears and Stan was trying to defuse it but then Richie started crying, and it went from 'are you ashamed of me' to 'I hate this world and I just wish I wasn't apart of it sometimes.' The idea terrified Stan into stillness as Richie made his escape.

Someone heard. However it was had, word spread that Richie and Stan were dating by the day after the next. Just in time for them to make up and Stan to find the words to explain to Richie not only his love but the reasoning behind his choices. As if to punctuate why they had to be careful, Derry lashed out.

Eventually they got what they wanted. Richie and Stan broke up. After they made the decision, they stood face to face and Richie couldn't look Stan in the eyes. "I guess you were right, huh?"

Stan's face twisted with pain. "In situations like these, I wish I wasn't."

Their fear of the world kept them from getting back together, but their mutual feelings kept them from being friends... so eventually, they drifted more and more apart until they were suddenly graduated and going to college. And then, one day, they were so disconnected that they began to forget. Forget Derry. Forget the other Losers. Forget each other.

There was an emptiness. A space in their beds no one else could fill.

Stan tried. He met this wonderful girl named Patty and he saw this future with her that seemed promising. But something was wrong. He didn't love her, and he couldn't get himself to, and she deserves to marry and have kids like she wanted and be with someone who devotedly and passionately loved her.

Richie didn't even bother. For some reason, he thought about dating and it made him sick. He thought maybe there was a bad experience in high school, or an old girlfriend that had put a bad taste in his mouth. He was successful and happy and perfectly fine being single.

Then they got the calls. They heard Mike's voice and recalled Derry and IT and- and-

"Richie," Stan whispered.

"What?" Mike asked.

"Uh." He blinked. "Nothing." Who was Richie? "Ye- I'll be there. I'll see you soon." He ended the call.

Richie. Why did the name make his heart jump in his chest? Why did he feel so excited? Why is it that remembering that town from Hell and the THING that lives there made him feel... relieved? Why is it that when he remembered dark sewers and red hair and pointed teeth, the easiest thing to recall was a dark haired boy holding a bat?

Almost in a daze, Stan found himself packing and telling his work he'd be gone for a while. He balanced between the horrors of the Thing waiting for him.. and the curiosity and desperate need for the dark haired boy he somehow knew would be there.

And he was.

When Stan saw him, it clicked. "Richie." Suddenly so much of his mind cleared and so much made sense. Even as his nightmares came today life in memories he'd tried so hard to forget, Richie forever succeeded in lighting up the darkness and melting the cold, making Stan irrationally excited to go face a demon... simply because it would bring the two of them together again.

Richie seemed to have been knocked breathless. "Stan." There was a pause. Richie seemed over relieved, like he'd been expecting something terrible to happen and seeing Stan had proved that it wouldn't. "You got hot."

Without even thinking about it, Stan replied. "I've always been hot." It was half assed but Richie snorted. Stan couldn't help but smile.

There was a tension. A pause. A hesitation. It carried through their entire visit and battle against IT and the people of Derry - as idiotic and judgemental and aggressive and pathetic as usual. They were incredibly aware of each other, tip toeing around a possibility and feelings they were both so eager to take old of but so unsure of when it came to how the other person felt.

Then Eddie almost died.

Eddie saved Richie and Stan saved Eddie and they defeated IT and so much was put into perspective. They’d been running from people who cursed under their breaths for Stan and Richie’s deaths because they were different than other people. But now they really had faced death full on and almost been taken over by it.

And they hadn’t.

Outside of Neibolt, watching it cave in and fade into nothing, Richie looked at Stan next. He thought of all the odd habits he had. The excitement that burst in him, poking at the edges of thoughts he almost had but never did every single goddamn time he ever saw a bird. The kind of weird curiousity that drew him to judaism simply because it made him feel more whole. But not because of God or anything they taught. Because it was familiar. Because it reminded him of... something. His coworkers had thought he was crazy. Him? Religious? And yet....

He’d thought of Stan plenty of times, even if he hadn’t actually, directly thought of Stan.

And Stan had done the same as well. Feeling eyes on him, the man turned and locked eyes with Richie immediately. There was a sense of terror in Richie’s eyes. The same feeling that tightened his own chest. The fear that after this was all over, they’d go their separate ways and forget again. Forget IT and Derry - less bad - but also each other. Bill and Beverly and Ben and Mike and Eddie and... and Stan would forget Richie and Richie would forget Stan.

It didn’t matter that everything had just fallen apart right in front of them, finally ending. It wasn’t relief that filled them. They’d all survived. That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if they lost each other again. So, despite the joy and relief they should have been feeling, they felt heavy and horrible and sick.

The only way to remedy that?

Richie moved first, but the second he had, Stan was too. They met in the middle, never breaking eye contact and not hesitating. Their hands were around each other, pulling each other as close as possible. They didn’t ram into each other- more, melted as their bodies touched, more and more the closer the got, until they had simply become one being.

Someone coughed. Stan and Richie ignored them. Someone else laughed.

Nothing else mattered. That kiss confirmed it all. Fuck people who wanted to tear them apart. Fuck Derry. Fuck fear. Forget everything else. Except each other. They’d never let anything come between them. Not ever again.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers XII (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: We get some growth over here, we also get awkward interaction between crushes but overall I really like this chapter :’)

Words: 4,661

Warnings: Cursing and tons of stupid. 

Previous chapter // Next chapter

To say I was busy the next day was an understatement. Apparently, the word had spread that I was the one who knew how to treat injuries and kids would bring me their friends so I could cure them.

What.

Yeah, I know. Do I look like a fucking doctor? Exactly. Yet, if I was fair with them we didn’t have plenty of choices, so I decided to do my best.

I was not alone in my duties, Alex had joined (probably to compensate all of our awkward moments and maybe cause he’d seen the deathly stare Maya sent my way) and whenever I needed something I could just ask him to bring me things and he would. To be honest, it was sort of fun.

I just had to treat a few scratches and infections (nothing as wild as Josh’s though) and made sure to give everyone a toothbrush (I had my own and always made sure to brush my teeth after every meal. What? I won’t lose my teeth before I turn twenty!)  I had also listened to Josh’s advice and started writing easy D-I-Y treatments on the notebook he got for me in case I was gone... you know, just in case.

My hand was still unable to move but for most things, I only had to say “Rub this on the cut” or, “Here, take this cough syrup” so it wasn’t like I actually needed my hands.

Then at some point in the afternoon, the weird shit started to show up. You know how kids get bored and do stupid things? Well, in the apocalypse it’s the same, only by a thousand.

“You tried to do, WHAT?”

“He’d always wanted to try to stick his hand up the vending machine to see if he could reach the snack for free,” Says his friend, blushing in embarrassment, “I tried to warn him...”

“For free?” I ask in exasperation, “Everything is free now, idiot! You could’ve, I don’t know, break the glass and take the food”

His friend is sitting on the chair in front of me, holding his hand up, He has a huge cut that goes from his pinky to his wrist, it could need stitches.

“Alex,” I turn to look at the boy, who seems to be struggling to not laugh, “could you get me antiseptic and bandaids?”

“Uh, sure,” He nods, starting to walk away, “I’m on it”

“And you... sorry, what was your name?”

“Tyler”

“Tyler. Be a sweetheart and put your hand here,” I point to the sink on my left and Tyler does as I ask, I push the button with my left hand and he winces, “I know it burns but we have to clean it before we cure it. Maybe you’ll think twice before doing something stupid again. C’mon, wash it well”

Alex comes back moments after and I take the stuff, he watches me carefully as I work together with Tyler’s friend to disinfect the cut and put one of those squared bandaids on it.

“There it is,” I smile politely, “good as new. If the cut has troubles to heal you’re gonna need stitches, so pray for this thing to work. You, Tyler’s friend, keep an eye on him and if it doesn’t heal you tell me okay? Tyler, If I see you even remotely close to a vending machine again, I’ll kick your ass”

The boy yelps but nods, his friend gets him out of the restroom.

We wait a minute or two to see if anyone else appears, it seems like the accidents and wounds have stopped for the day.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” I grab the spare material we didn’t use and put it all inside the backpack I have with me at all times, “if I stay here for the rest of the day I’ll be dreaming about toilets tonight”

Alex chuckles, following me out.

“You know, you really look different,” He walks beside me, “in a good way, like you’re comfortable on your own skin. The last time I saw you this way was probably that time when you did the presentation on Da Vinci”

“I was fourteen back then,” I grimace, “that doesn’t sound good”

“What thing?”

“That it’s been so long since I looked happy”

“I never said ‘happy’ I said comfortable in your own skin,” He states, “you always looked happy. Not always looked so careless, though. I don’t know if you get it.”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I shrug, “I’m just okay with how my life is going right now, I could’ve died back with Triumph but Josh saved us. I’m just enjoying that I didn’t.”

“Josh seems to be a good guy,” He says, looking intently at me, “and he seems to be good friends with you”

“Well, he’s a friendly guy,” I agree, not understanding what he’s trying to say, “and he always tries his best, it’s hard to not like him”

“So, you like him a lot?”

I look at him from the corner of my eye. So that’s where this is heading.

“Yes, I like him.”

I don’t try to be more specific or care about calming his suspicions. If he wants to know, he’ll have to ask directly.

Unfortunately (luckily for me) he doesn’t get the chance cause Wesley intercepts us.

“Hey sis, heard you’ve been working all morning,” He extends one long package of cookies, “I think you deserve some recognition”

“Yes!” I grab the package and give a quick hug to Wesley, “Are you a guardian angel?”

“You’re welcome,” He crosses his arms. Wesley notices Alex standing awkwardly beside me and speaks up, “I know you, from where do I know you?”

“He used to go to our school,” I reply, stuffing my mouth with two cookies, “he’s an old friend... Alex”

“Murphy,” Alex shakes Wesley’s hand, “I think you know me from history class?”

“Murphy!” He claps, “you’re the bi dude that dated my girl Amy back in junior high, right?”

“That’s also me.”

“Sweet, she used to talk wonders about you,” Wes nods, “I think she got eaten by Ghoulies like a week after all of this started, though”

“Oh, sorry dude...”

“No worries, we stopped being friends when we started Highschool”

I watch their interaction as I keep eating, it’s weird how my two worlds, the old and the new could collapse and mix people together, not caring whether or not I want it. Yet, the world never actually collapsed, just mutated, and I was still standing in the middle of this chaos in one piece.

One absolute, badass piece.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you didn’t mind if I go and take a nap,” Says Alex, pointing towards the mattress store, “I think I’m still not fully recovered from my time with Triumph”

“Oh, yeah go ahead”

I smile politely as I watch him go, not noticing Wesley until he speaks again.

“So, that’s your guy”

I jump, cursing under my breath.

“Jesus, Wesley. Don’t do that...” I scowl, “What do you mean with ‘my guy’?”

“The one you told me about?” He continues, “you said you had a friend named Alex and that you two were a team but then he left?”

“Right,” I had totally forgotten about our conversation, “this Alex is the same Alex from that story”

“You must be happy right now,” He raises a brow, “you got your buddy back”

“Not so much,” I squint, “he’s back but... I kind of wish he wasn’t”

“Why?” He grins, “What, you like someone else now?”

“I never said I liked him,” I reply a little too fast.

“You don’t have to.”

“Whatever,” I roll my eyes.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He grabs my shoulders, “Who is it? Is it one of the new kids? Is it one of us?”

“Wes...”

“If it’s me I have to warn you I’m gay,” He gives me a pointed look, “you’re cute and all, but I just don’t play for that team. Sorry.”

“Is not you cause I don’t like anybody, Wesley!” I hiss, pushing his hands away, “Let it go!”

“Y/N,” He pleads, following me as I walk fast to the main hall, “I swear I will keep it a secret!”

“No, you won’t,” I groan, "it would only be a matter of time before Angelica finds out as well and then I wouldn’t hear the end of it”

“Is it Eli?” He continues without bugging, “it’s that why you think Angelia and I would tease you? I mean, kid’s kinda weird but I’d rather see you dating him than him kissing that ‘Mavis’ doll.”

“Please, stop,” I sit on a bench, the same place where few hours before, Wesley and Josh had trained, “I don’t like Eli”

“Then it’s Josh,” He states, sitting beside me.

When I give him one exasperated look but don’t speak against him, Wesley covers his mouth in shock and starts kicking the air in excitement.

“Yes, girl! Go get it!” He laughs, “Shit, you have to make a move. You and Josh desperately need to get laid”

“Wesley!” I exclaim, putting the cookies away since my appetite has been brutally murdered, “I don’t want to sleep with Josh!”

“Why not?” Wesley shrugs, “you two are good together, always hyping each other up and being the dorky duo that led us to success”

“You’re hallucinating,” I shake my head, “and forgetting an important issue”

“Which is?”

“Sam’s been dead for like, four days tops?” I cross my arms, “Now that’s some insensitive shit”

“Oh,” His smile disappears abruptly, “That. Right.”

“Right”

“Okay, but what if...” Before he ends the phrase, he shakes his head, “no nevermind”

“What?” I frown.

“Nothing,” He shrugs, “is not important.”

“What are you thinking?” The boy stays silent for a second, then his eyes light up and smiles like something just came up to him.

“I was thinking, what if this whole apocalypse shit hadn’t happened,” He leans against the bench, “and we were still normal kids, you know homecoming dance was close?”

“Yes,” I tilt my head, “what about it?”

“If he and Sam would’ve broken up before the dance... I mean, you already knew him, right? If that would’ve been the case, you would have tried?”

“To what?” I grin, “Ask him out?”

“Yeah”

“Don’t think so,” I reply with honesty, “I think I would’ve asked Alex, but only as friends you know? Cause it was better. Or I would’ve gone to the dance alone.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Josh wasn’t on my radar during those days. I knew him and all, he just was in a whole different world. Out of reach and far from being on my list”

“I see,” He squints his eyes, “You know what? I think we should have that dance”

“What?” I laugh louder this time, looking around for my cookies, “there’s no way we can do that here...”

“Why not?”

“It’s a mall”

“So what? We have enough kids, we have plenty of drinks and food, a wide space where we can show our best moves?” He stretches his arms as to prove his point, “I think I can make it work”

“I think it’ll be a total failure,” I reply, finally finding the package and eating a whole cookie.

“Bet?”

“Sure,” I mumble, “what do you wanna bet?”

“If I win, you’ll ask Josh for a date, or you know, you’ll give it a try,” He comments, “if it turns out you don’t like him then I’ll stop”

“And If I win you won’t force me to try shit,” I reach out to hold his hand and he takes it.

“Deal.”

To be honest, I think maybe Katie was right. I can be a little overdramatic sometimes, people can get tired of that. When I first came to this mall I was desperate to live, afraid that my calm and easy routine would be affected by the wishes of these losers. Which it did, but it was for the best, I think.

I also thought that if I ever saw Alex again my heart would stop instantly and I would die cause it was too much to handle, or that we would have this huge fight where both of us ended killing the other or something. It isn’t like that at all.  Sure it is awkward and a bit weird, but we’re making it work. I think.

That noon we’re in the pharmacy, making the inventory in a small notebook that I carry around (the one that I had before I met Josh, not the one that he gave me) and we’re not talking much, only saying the names of the medicines we have and where we should put them. I don’t know what exactly do most of these medicines do, but I trust that Angelica might know, so I’ll ask her before we go to bed.

“Y/N?”

“What?” I look over my shoulder to see Alex holding a box of pills, we move to the next shelf and we start putting them in line.

“So,” He starts, “we haven’t seen each other in three months, I’m sure something must have happened while I was gone”

“Meh, not really. The majority of those three months I spent it alone, in my old house,” I shrug, “collecting food and things, then this pug attacked my place (I’m sure you’ve seen it, it’s huge) so I had to move again. In the middle of that Josh crashed into me and sort of dragged me to this mall.”

Alex smiles lightly.

“You’re still taking care of your people?”

“I think that’s clear,” I shake one of the bottles and smile tiredly, “I didn’t choose to do this, though. I was just the one with weird knowledge about severed fingers and they just assumed my knowledge is enough to cure all kinds of sufferings”

“I think it kind of is,” He shrugs, “who’s the heroic one now, huh?”

“Shut up,” I whine, though I’m smiling, “I’m just being helpful, that’s all”

“You always are”

Alex and I stop to look at each other. I can feel a sensation in my stomach but is not butterflies, it’s comfort. I’m glad to have him and I’m happy that he exists, but that’s all. The euphoria of the ‘What if’ is long gone since I discovered that the ‘what if’ wasn’t for us. 

Holy shit. Did I stop crushing on him because of all that happened?

Or did it stop because I met Josh?

“We need to talk about it,” He says, catching me off guard.

I accidentally kick a box behind me trying to step back. I knew this was coming, and I knew he was waiting for us to be mostly alone so we could talk about it in peace, I just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.

“Do we?” I squint.

“Last time we didn’t talk about it and it ended on us fighting and going our separate ways,” He replies, “and I missed you, Y/N. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Listen,” I sigh, taking the box and setting it on the floor, signaling towards the counter so we go sit, “ I know I said awful things to you I shouldn’t have, you were the only person I had left and I pushed you away. I was scared, I thought you were going to leave me. So I figured that if I was the one leaving first then you’d forget me and things would be okay.”

“I asked you to come with me so we could start again,” He frowns, “how did that make you think I was leaving you? How could you even think you’d be that easy to forget?”

It’s funny that he says that, cause Josh kinda told me the same thing. How I’m not easy to forget.

I don’t want that, I want to be easy. I want to be able to have my freedom and know I can go at any time as soon as I feel like it, without feeling guilty about leaving people behind. If I’m wrong and people will still miss me no matter how fast I leave... well, let’s just say it doesn’t help my goal.

“I thought that if I decided to go with you, there was fifty percent of chances that we would stop being friends, and I’m a dumbass so there’s no way I would’ve survived on my own outside Glendale”

I thought he would get upset, instead, Alex laughs.

“That makes me feel so optimistic about our future, then. We’ll never leave Glendale but hey, at least we’ll grow old.”

“That’s the dream,” I nudge his arm playfully.

We stay silent for a couple of seconds, then he speaks up again.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you that one time,” His voice is full of regret.

I stop my movements altogether and look at him.

“I’m sorry about that too. I was hurt for a while, but then I kinda realized... it was for the best. I mean, maybe you kind of had a crush on me but it was better this way, right?”

He gives me an apologetic look. I’ve seen that expression thousands of times before, I know that he’s about to get deadly honest.

“No,” Alex grimaces, “I didn’t have a crush on you.”

“Oh,” I reply, genuinely speechless, “I-uh... I”

“Listen,” He jumps off from the counter and stands in front of me, “here’s the thing... Maya told me one day when we started Highschool that you, uh, had a crush on me. And at first, I didn’t believe her cause well, you’re my best friend”

“Then why did you kiss me?” I ask, maybe a little too loud.

“Cause then she started to implant all these ideas in my head, and she kept saying to ‘watch how you acted around me’ and how ‘you were super nice to me and dull with every other boy’”

“Rude,” I frown.

“...The point is that I believed her. I was all paranoid cause I thought I was giving the wrong vibes, and I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“Then why, did you KISS ME?” I ask again.

“Shhhh!” His eyes widen, stepping closer and putting a hand on my mouth, “I’m getting there!”

“Hmph-” I slap his hand away from my mouth, “then get there already!”

“That day at the mall,” Alex continues anxiously, “you were all sweet and kind to me, and gave me compliments and bought me Icecream... like, shit Y/N you were being so cute and I thought ‘Hey, what if I’m in love with her too but I’m in denial?”

“Dude,” I frown, “that’s... I mean, I was just being a good friend that one time, honest.”

“So you never had a crush on me?”

“I mean... I did? Sort of...I had one but then you kissed me and...”

“And nothing, right?” He asks with hope, “you’re with me on this, there wasn’t, like, that kind of feelings involved?”

“I-yeah,” I nod, “after we kissed I just feel tainted and guilty cause you were dating Stuart”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started on Stuart,” He covers his face with one hand, “when I told him about what had happened I broke his heart, we broke up soon after”

“You told him?!”

“Of course I did, I loved him!” He exclaims, “I cared about him, so I had to be honest. I told him I got all confused and mixed things up, that I kissed you but you seemed not into it and of course neither was I and that I was sorry... He was just too upset and felt like I didn’t respect him, so he dumped me.”

“I am so, so sorry, Al,” I stand up, we have always been the same height, so we’re now face to face, “I mean, it was you who kissed me but... I should’ve talked to you sooner.”

“For what?” He huffs, “is not like we both knew what was going on”

“But we’re best friends, we’re supposed to trust each other, right? Then why we didn’t?”

“I guess... we just lost control.”

“We listened to the wrong person,” I correct, “I’m sure Maya got all entertained with our misunderstanding. Jesus, I bet she must have figured it out before us but she never said anything to stop us.”

“Be honest, would you have listened to her?”

“No?” I scoff, “but this just proves that she’s evil.”

“I saw the way she was looking at you today,” He crosses his arms, “I’m guessing you finally snapped.”

“Not entirely,” I defend, “I just rejected her offer. The one about starting a tribe.”

“You still want to be on your own?”

“No, I don’t want to be with Maya,” I reply, “we’re good here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah...” He looks around, “I wanted to see the world and all but... is not the same thing, and is not the same thing alone either”

“Sorry that your dream got busted” I pat his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, “sorry your loner life got ruined.”

“It wasn’t that cool”

“So...” He grabs the hand that’s on his shoulder without moving it from the place, “we’re cool now? Can we go back to being friends?”

“Yes, please,” My hold gets a bit tighter, “if I’m gonna keep treating the wounds that kids cause on themselves stupidly, I’m gonna need my best friend beside me...”

We shake hands and grin, it feels like all the weight just disappeared from our shoulders.

“Hey, Y/N do you-” Josh stops at the entrance and stays really quiet, watching the scene in front of him.

I’m still holding onto Alex’s hand, Alex casually smiles at him.

“Oh, hey Josh what’s up?”

“Hi,” I try to look just as casual as my friend when I let go of him, “uh-Josh.”

“Sorry, you’re busy”

Josh mumbles and tries to walk away from the store. I quickly walk around the counter and call his name.

“Wait!” He stops and looks at me, “we were just finishing up here, tell us what you need”

“I, uh... my bandages,” When he speaks his voice is lower, it reminds me of the drowsy way he talked when he woke up from cutting his finger. Disoriented, drained out of energy, “I need a new set. This one’s got ruined from going outside and fighting with Triumph.”

“Okay,” I look over at Alex, “first shelf on your right”

The boy looks over and soon enough he throws me a package, I catch it mid-air and then I ask Josh:

“You need help?”

“I... uhm,” His eyes go from me to Alex and for some reason, I can tell he feels uncomfortable with us. Maybe he thinks Alex and I are still fighting, I should tell him I’m not upset anymore, otherwise he’ll keep acting like this, “is not a big deal, I can do it on my own...”

I look over at my best friend with an expression that I hope it reads like ‘can you leave us alone for a moment?’

“Alex..?”

“I think I’ll look around for food,” He picks up the message immediately, giving me a pointed look, “I’ll leave you to it”

“Thanks,” I smile politely. When he’s gone I make Josh sit on the counter and unwrap his old bandages.

He’s deadly quiet. Again, a bad sign that something is going on inside his head. I try to make some light conversation so he feels better.

“Have you heard Wesley’s new bright idea-?”

“Did you talk to Alex?”

Okay then, pretty straightforward.

“Yes,” I smile, trying to look as happy and relaxed as possible, “it’s all good between us now, like the old times”

“Good,” For some reason, my answer only seems to make things worse, I try to add more.

“I know you think I’m upset. But I think this was exactly what I was waiting for, I’m finally okay with Alex, I owe it all to you so you can add that to the list of things you’ve done for me.”

“...Great!” He tries to smile for a moment, but it dies as soon as it appears.

My mind tries to figure it out, What’s happening? What’s upsetting him? We succeded! Even better, he reunited old friends, gave them a...

That’s it, the reunion. He’s upset that I got Alex back and he doesn’t have Sam.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” I say as soon as I realize, “oh my god, I thought...”

“It’s fine,” He replies, avoiding to look at me, “I mean, I knew you had feelings for someone-”

“Sam,” I say, not really listening to what he was saying, “Jeez I’m so stupid...”

“What?” He stops.

“You’re upset because I got to see Alex again and apologize, but you and Sam...”

I’m too embarrassed to continue, so I just give him an apologetic look that he doesn’t seem to fully understand. I watch as he stares at me startled, mouth open and a deep frown. Only then I consider that I might have fucked it up again.

“Or if that wasn’t what had you upset then I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“No! Uh, yes. Sure, I-uh...” He scratches the back of his head, “yeah I guess all this had me a bit sensitive. What was that about you and Alex?”

“I...” I’m a bit surprised by his sudden change of subject, but I don’t take it personal since I guess he feels like he gave too much information about him and Sam the last time we talked about it, “I talked to him and said I was sorry. Then he said he was sorry and now we’re friends again.”

“Friends?” He’s got his full attention on me, now seemingly interested in my story.

“Friends,” I smile.

“Didn’t you liked him?”

“I told you it was a long story,” I shake my head, finishing his bandages “tp make it short, he used to be my crush, then after he left things just got different and...”

Then I met you.

“Well I don’t feel that way anymore, so we’re cool now”

“Really?” He asks, “That’s great!”

He gets up and hugs me tightly, even lifting me up a few inches in the air. I let out a short squeal, caught off guard.

“You’re the type of friend that gets excited with their friends’ success, right?” I laugh once he puts me down.

“Totally,” Josh smirks, “this is a win for all, right? He gets a safe place to stay, you get your friend back and I...” He clears his throat, “I can get that notebook filled with medical tips”

“You sure need them,” I chuckle, “you klutz”

“Don’t be rude,” He kicks my foot lightly, “by the way, what was that thing you were saying about Wesley at first?”

“Wes,” I say excitedly, “he said he’ll plan a homecoming dance for us”

“What?”Josh laughs, “No way!”

“I know, right?” I grin, “that’s cra-”

“That’s so cool!” He interrupts me, “How long has he been planning this? Do you think he needs help?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stutter taken by surprise, “he just thought of that today, so I guess he does? but-”

“Let’s go see if he needs help!” Josh takes my healthy hand and drags us out from the pharmacy, looking for Wesley.

I know that if I help Wesley there’s a big chance I will lose the bet but what did you expect me to do? I can’t tell Josh I’m not going to help cause I made a bet about asking him out. That’s embarrassing.

Instead, I follow him to where Wesley is and while Josh tells him he thinks his idea of making a dance is great, I have to stand there and watch the shit-eating grin on Wesley’s face while he nods along to Josh’s ideas.

Taglist.

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