#when the little queer man trapped deep inside him starts screaming to get out

[lamardeuse]

they're the same picture your honour

[promptswrites]

The Artificials / A short story

This is a short story I wrote some time ago, but only recently went through and edited.

(5.5k, scifi with just a dash of action and queer feels.)

xx

“I told you I’ll do it.”

A brief smile crosses Colonel Davie’s thin lips. He leans forward, pushes his elbows on the desk, and locks his fingers. “Look at you, Aden. That’s what I like to hear.”

It’s easy for this jackass to smile. He won’t be the one running head on to the enemy, no — he leaves it up to me. An Artificial. The Expendable. 

I scoff and turn away. “Sure. I’ll let you know how it goes.” 

As I make my way through his office, past the paintings and the maps and the huge collections of enemy helmets just collecting dust in big glass cabinets, Davie clears his throat. 

“This time, you’ll have a partner.”

My heart skips over a beat. I reach the door and stop, my brains repeating that last word like a stuck record player. 

A partner? For me? But— 

Davie laughs. His chair creaks, and heavy footsteps approach me. “It’s someone like you. I’m sure you’ll get along with it just fine.”

I don’t want to turn around but I do, and I meet Davie’s amused gaze. 

“Your mission requires two people,” he says, circles his desk, and leans his butt over the edge. He reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out a fat, brown cigar. “Or, well, not people. I wouldn’t risk my soldiers over this. That’s why it’s you two. Even if you die… Well, you know the drill.”

The familiar heat rises in my chest. I tense staring at him, at that smug face, as if he’s so much better than me just because every part of him came out of a womb. 

I didn’t ask for this. Any of this. Not to be made, not to be put in this body, not to fight in this stupid war. 

“Fuck you.” The words slip out before I can register them. “I’m flesh and blood, the same as you.”

Colonel Davie pulls out a lighter, snaps his finger across the wheel, and lights his cigar. The cocky look on his face never wavers as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke that smells as disgusting as his personality. “Are you?”

Whatever. 

“I’ll have someone let you know when I return,” I say, pushing out the door. 

“You’ll find your new partner from the armory,” Davie calls out, and I slam the door shut behind myself. His muffled voice yells: “You might find him familiar.”

xx

The guy in front of me is tall, probably half a head taller than I am. The arms that poke from the sleeves of his white tee are muscular, and I guess he’s the type of soldier who lives and breathes gym — and yet, when he looks down at me, he smiles the sweetest smile and offers me his hand. White paint, already dry, decorates the side of his palm.

“Hey,” he says. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot. I’m Kane June.”

With a polite smile, I grab his hand and shake it. “Aden May. Hopefully all things good?” 

‘Might find him familiar’? What the hell had Davie meant by that? This guy is a total stranger, and by the lively look in his eyes, he’s never been to a real battle before. He’s definitely never died before. How could I know him? 

Kane’s grin widens as he nods. He steps back as we let go of each other’s hands. “Dude, you’re like a legend to us down in the Third Floor. It’s an honor getting to go out with you.” 

The choice of words makes me laugh. “Let’s finish this mission first and we’ll see.” 

In a blink of an eye, his cheeks go from brown to red, and he falls back another step, lifting his hands up. “Shit, I mean, I don’t—”

“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” I say, still grinning, and turn to the rows of weapons on the wall. 

It’s unusually empty here in the armory — but figures, since the previous attack on the base killed more than twenty of us. Out of the five hundred specialists we started with over four years earlier, only seventy-six are still standing. 

It won’t be long until we lose. 

“So is this your first time out in the field?” I ask, glancing at Kane. He’s busy hiding his face in his hands. 

That’s… kind of cute. 

He nods, looking up. The blush on his cheeks is almost gone. “I wasn’t supposed to go today, either. I’m not done with my training yet.”

“Why did they make you come, then?” I ask, turning my focus back on the weapons, and swallow a sigh. 

A complete beginner on a mission our survival depends on. Davie really outdid himself. Does he want us both to die?

“The attack a few days ago,” Kane says. “They sent everyone out to defend the base. You’re the only Expendable who came back, right?” 

I pick a modified pistol from the rack. The faces of the others flash in my head, bleeding and screaming and dying—

A shiver runs down my back and I force the memory out. 

No matter. They’ll be reinserted into new bodies and come back. Probably tomorrow or the day after, with eyes that are a little bit deader than before. 

“That’s why,” Kane continues. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I was the top of my class. Outdid most the humans in every task. I’m not saying I’m as good as you, or will ever be, ’cause I mean… You’re a legend. But I can handle myself.”

I turn to face Kane, forcing a smile on my lips.

He stands there, such an innocent drive in his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t know anything yet, that much is certain. And after seeing what it’s really like out there, he will wish he had stayed oblivious.

But that’s not why they created us. People like the two of us aren’t here to be happy. 

Our bodies are expendable. Even if we die, we’ll never stay that way. Illness, bombing, suicide, it doesn’t matter; our suffering will never end because they’ll always bring us back, again and again, until we finally go crazy and destroy our code from the inside. They force us into living and dying for a world that doesn’t give a shit about artificials like us. It doesn’t matter our bodies, borrowed from the dead soldiers, are flesh and blood; our consciousness is fake, created from lines of code and a bunch of numbers. To them, we are nothing. 

“When were you supposed to graduate?” I ask. 

“A week from now.”

At least he isn’t a complete beginner.

I hand him the gun. It has an extended clip; God knows he might need the extra ammo. “You know how to use it, right?”

He nods and pushes the gun down the holster on his waist. “Like I said, I can handle myself.”

“We’ll see,” I say, and pause before continuing. “Hey, uh… This is a weird question, but you have any hobbies?”

He laughs, lifting his hand up to the back of his neck. “That’s fine. I mean, yeah, I guess. I like drawing. And painting, though I always make a huge mess. Why?”

“No reason,” I say and turn back to the weapons. “Get ready. We gotta leave the second it gets dark.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” There is a grin in his voice. 

Eventually, he’ll lose joy in everything. We all do; it’s only a matter of time until the truth gets to him. That there’s no hope for beings like us.

But right now, he’s innocent. Happy. Full of life.

I smile as I watch him bend over and tie his shoes, but a coldness creeps up my chest. My smile fades. 

He won’t stay happy for long. 

Nobody does. 

xx

“We should wait.”

I lift an eyebrow at Kane. In the blinding darkness, it’s only my night vision lenses allowing me to see him. 

He nods towards the open yard between us and the lone warehouse. It’s the size of a garage — inconspicuous by design to hide the fact it shelters some of the most important data known to man. Davie won’t tell me what exactly, because why on earth would an artificial need to know that? But it is the type of information that would help us even the playing field.

Behind the warehouse sits one of the tens of massive wooden barracks. Which enemy they belong to, I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter. What I know is that they’re filled to brim with soldiers, both human and artificial alike, ready to kill us both if things go wrong. 

“Doesn’t it seem too convenient to you?” Kane asks. “Where’s the security? All the soldiers? The dogs?” 

“You’re saying it’s a trap?” I whisper, eyeing the warehouse. 

“Could be,” he says. “I think we should wait and see what happens.”

I check the watch on my wrist; it’s already fifteen to five in the morning. Fifteen minutes until the whole base will wake up. Half an hour until the sun will rise. 

And if we go back empty-handed for no good reason, we’ll both get in deep trouble. 

If we wait and lose our only chance...

“Stay here. I’ll go get the case,” I say, giving my new partner a look. The words make him tense. “If it turns out to be a trap, head back to base. Let Davie know.” 

“But you’ll—”

“Be reinserted,” I interrupt. “They’ve got a ton of bodies ready, and my memory was backed up a few hours ago. I’ll be fine.” 

Kane’s lips draw back. He stares at me, his breathing picking up. 

“Don’t forget what we are,” I say, keeping my voice stern. “This is what we do. It’s not my first time losing a body.”

“You mean dying.”

“Call it whatever you want. I’ll be back in a few days.”

“But it’s still painful, isn’t it? And you’ll remember it?” His tone borders desperate as he takes me by the wrist. “I really think we should—”

I snatch my arm back. 

Kane flinches. His eyes widen on me and his mouth opens, but he doesn’t say a word. 

The hurt expression on his face is like a dagger to my gut, but this is the only way, because he’s right. It will hurt and I will remember it, and I don’t want him to go through that. 

If he can just hold on to that innocence for a little while longer… 

I stand up. “Stay here. That’s an order. If something happens, head straight back to base and tell Colonel Davie. Don’t wait for me or try to help.”

Before Kane can argue, I turn around and jog off, an invisible fist squeezing my insides. 

This is why I don’t work with others. To send them to their deaths, to watch them go through that indescribable hell of a slow, painful death, just to meet them again a couple of days later… 

Their bodies are always different, but you can always tell who it is by the haunted look in their eyes. The eyes that lose more and more of their sparkle each time they get reinserted. 

Kane’s eyes are still alive. 

An artificial consciousness or not, he is alive, in body, mind, and spirit alike, and he deserves better than this. 

So I cross the yard to the warehouse; dig into my pocket and pull out the little device I can’t understand but can open any electric lock with; push it against the reader by the side of the heavy door and wait for the click. 

The door unlocks. I pocket the device and pull it open. 

There’s another click—

Shit. 

My heart rushes to my throat and I spin around, swinging myself forward just as the bomb goes off. Something heavy hits my back and slams me to the gravel. 

For a moment, I can’t breathe. My body is on fire and every single cell inside me screams and trembles as hot waves of pain rush up and down my back. 

I’m not sure if I’m screaming, too. 

I roll onto my side. The pain flares in my back with the movement and I close my eyes, fighting the nausea rumbling in my gut. I let the back of my head hit the ground. Terror traps my breath and crushes my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.

The ringing in my ear subsides and the blaring alarm takes over. A yell rips through the air. Gunshots follow it. 

Tears rush down my cheeks. The sobs don’t sound mine as they escape my throat. 

“Aden!” Kane screams. 

A hand takes me by the cheek. I lift my eyelids just enough to see the blurry outline of his face above mine. 

“Aden, come on, get the hell up!” 

Why? Why is he here? I told him to—

“I’m not leaving you behind! If you’re going to die here, both of us are going to die here,” he yells over the ringing of the guns and the blaring of the alarm. His eyes are on the enemy. “But I really, really don’t want to die here, so get the hell up!” 

I stare at him, unable to get my tongue moving. A warmth spreads in my chest but it, too, hurts, bringing tears to my already blurring eyes. 

What an idiot! Risking himself like this, and for what? Me? For a guy who has already died and been reinserted twelve times? A guy whose eyes have been dead for a long time already?

There’s nothing that’ll make me emptier than I already am. 

But Kane holds onto me tighter while exchanging bullets with the enemy I can’t be bothered to look at. There is a fire in his eyes, one filled with life and love and longing for something better. 

And I remember that look. 

The memory makes me pause. It’s from such a long time ago, he’s nothing but a hazy memory — one that I push away as soon as it surfaces. 

Doesn’t matter. 

Right now, this version of him is here, and everything about him screams a will to live. 

I can’t let him lose that. 

Especially not for my sake. 

“You idiot,” I manage to croak. Blood drips down the side of my head and splashes on the gravel. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, grabbing my arm. “Come on. I’ll carry you.”

xx

“You feeling okay?” Kane asks. My room is barely big enough for a bed and a desk, but somehow, Kane managed to fit a chair by my bed. 

I sigh. “Peachy. You know, I might be the first artificial person to ever get dragged back from a battlefield.”

“That’s what I don’t get,” he says. “We’re people too. We should be protected just like the ones without a chip for consciousness.”

The grin that spreads on my lips is involuntary. I close my eyes. 

Some day, he’ll know better than to wait for that sort of miracle. 

Kane shifts on his chair. “It’s fucked up. Why is it like this? Why can’t we be equals with them?”

“Because they created us,” I say. “People can’t even accept other humans as equal. You really think they’d think lines of code are as valuable as they are? To them, we’re just smart, immortal weapons.” 

He huffs. “Maybe right now, but who knows what the future brings?” 

I open my mouth to reply when the door to my room clicks and opens. I push myself on my elbows, but a sharp spike of pain makes me grunt and fall back down. I squeeze my eyes shut and lift my hands up to my face as the pain burns me to my core—

“Take it easy,” Kane whispers. He lays a hand on my chest. “Breathe. You’ll be okay.”

The plethora of curses slip past my lips. “Yeah, I’m fucking trying—”

“Have you two forgotten your manners?” Davie’s harsh voice calls from the doorway. 

Great.

Kane shoots up to his feet so fast his chair tips over. The clatter echoes around the room. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Welcome,” he says and bows.

“At ease,” Davie says and steps further in. Now, I can see him, too—he’s holding a thin file in hand—and as our eyes meet, he nods. “Aden.”

“What the hell are you doing here? I don’t remember inviting you,” I say. My voice is tense as the pain throbs around my spine, and I can’t give two shits about what this asshole of a human being thinks of me. “Got all your other soldiers killed so you had to come down here yourself?”

Kane shoots me a horrified glance. Most likely, he has never seen an Expendable talk back to a human, especially not a human of as high ranking as Davie, but that’s not my problem. 

This is my room, and this dick is the last person I want to see. 

“You have always been an exceptional soldier,” Davie says, his eyes narrowing on me. “That is why I’ve let you get away with things nobody else ever would’ve. Your disrespectful attitude, for example. But I am getting very tired of you.” 

Well, that’s a threat. 

Does he still think he has the power to hurt me? That there is something he can do that would make my existence any more miserable than it already is?

But he’ll never leave if I keep pissing him off, so I sigh and nod. “Sorry.” 

Davie doesn’t look satisfied, but he takes a step further in and waves the file in the air. “These are the results of your medical examination. Your injuries are severe, to say the least.”

There is a question in Kane’s eyes as his gaze travels between me and Davie, but he doesn’t ask it out loud. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out his question, though. 

What now?

“It is treatable, yes, but even with the best doctors and extensive physical therapy, it would take several months for you to be able to fight again. Years, most likely,” Davie says and tosses the file onto my bed. “See for yourself.”

“No need.” I flash him a sarcastic smile. “I can feel it just fine.” 

“Suit yourself,” Davie says. “You know what this means.”

Even a child knows what it means. 

Even if they could wait that long for this body to get back in fighting order, they wouldn’t waste such precious resources on an Expendable. Even our bodies are from the fallen soldiers, for hell’s sake; because we are not important enough to waste precious metals on. Why would they waste time and medicine on us when there are plenty of usable corpses coming in every single week; when they can simply kill the body and transfer us?

“I’ll contact the lab,” Davie says and turns for the door. “I’ll have them prepare a new body for you, and—”

“What? No!” Kane snaps. 

Davie stops and turns his widening gaze to Kane. So do I.

He’s breathing shallow and fast, a different kind of fire in his eyes — he’s glaring at Davie, unafraid and strong, his entire body tensing. 

He’s just like him. The man from those hazy memories. 

Was that what Davie had meant by ‘familiar’? Is there something more to him and I? 

“He is not some mindless puppet you can force into this! Into dying whenever it’s most convenient for you!” Kane yells. By the look on his twisting face, it’s a surprise he doesn’t shove Davie into the wall. “He’s not some robot! He’s a human, just like you, and you can’t treat him like—”

A slap across the cheek shuts him up. 

Davie grabs Kane by the collar of his shirt so hard it rips from the seam, and yanks him closer. 

Kane’s eyes widen, but as he blinks, the shock disappears and the burning anger rises in its place.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Davie snarls. His tone is beyond a threat — it’s a promise. “You hear me, soldier?”

“Yessir,” Kane hisses through clenched fists and gritted teeth. 

I stare at the two, frozen in place, my heart pounding in my sore chest.

What the hell is Kane doing? Doesn’t he know what happens to disobedient Expendables? He can’t be this stupid!

Davie releases Kane with a shove, scoffs, and heads for the door. “I’ll send someone in to finish that body. And Kane…” He stops at the door to look at him, icy hatred in his gaze. “You better behave when they come. I have deleted your kind for less.”

Davie steps outside and slams the door shut. As the echo of the blam fades, a second passes in silence. 

Then another. 

And another—

Before Kane drops down on his chair, groaning, and pushes his hands up against his face so hard, his cheeks mush into his eyes. “God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just… This...” He falls quiet with another frustrated groan. 

I watch him, something weird spreading in my chest. Something I can’t figure out. 

Why does he care so much about what happens to me? 

“This is wrong,” he finally says, drops his hands, and meets my gaze. There are tears in his eyes. 

The sight makes my lungs trap my breath. 

“This is wrong! It’s like we’re worth nothing but what we can do for them!” he continues. Frustration and anger boil in his tone. “I know I’m new, but I want more. I want to be more than their weapon who lives and dies when they want it! And I hate that I can’t have any of it. How is this fair? We’re just like them! Fuck!”

He slams his hands on his knees and doubles, hiding his face into his hands. 

I stare at him, a lump in my throat, knowing I should say something, but what even is there? 

I’m sorry? It’ll be okay? Don’t cry? 

Those are just bunch of meaningless words. 

But I have to try. 

“It’s okay,” I say.

“Sorry.” Kane lifts his gaze back up to me and laughs weakly. Tears glimmer in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just… I hate this. You know? Hate they can use us like this. But what do I know?” He pauses to draw in a deep breath. “You’re the expert here, and I’m a newbie who just got out of his first assignment. So if you say it’s okay, that this isn’t that bad, then…” 

Don’t, I want to say. Don’t believe me.

He forces a smile. Though he tries, it isn’t enough to mask the defeat in his eyes. “Then, I’ll believe you.” 

Those words, that look… 

My heart wrenches. 

And from the bottom of it, I want to tell him that it is indeed okay, that dying and coming back is really not that bad and I’m used to it — to save the innocence in his eyes and let him be happy for a little while longer. To face tomorrow with the same joy and honest optimism I’d seen in those same eyes half a day earlier. 

To not cry for me. 

But this isn’t okay, and if I tell him that it is, if I lie to him, it’ll only hurt more when it’s him lying on the ground, bleeding to a meaningless death. 

Yet, there is no other choice, because I won’t be the one to destroy that innocence. I can’t be.

He is all I’ve lost. All I can never regain. And if he can remain happy for a week, a day, or, hell, even an hour longer, the lie is worth it. 

Tears rise to my eyes as I force a smile that rips my heart in two. “You know, it’s actually not that—”

“We could run away.”

His words stop me dead on my tracks. 

Kane lifts his gaze to me. There it is again — that fire in his eyes, that drive to live and find something better. He wipes the tears away and nods. “We can,” he says, and he is so sure of his words that my heart beats a little faster. 

Could we? 

“I mean it,” he says. “We can just get up and leave. They’re not gonna waste soldiers on trying to find us.” 

I stare at him, unable to utter a word. 

Running away. 

It’s been a long time since I last thought about that. 

“I know you’re injured, but we can do it,” he continues. His words come out faster and faster as desperation and excitement grow in his tone. “I’ll steal a wheelchair, or— or I’ll carry you on my back, or whatever you need! But we can do it. I swear, we can.”

“Why?” is all I can ask. 

He smiles, looking like he thinks I’m an idiot. “Because you deserve better than this.”

I scoff. It’s unfair for him to use my own thoughts against myself. 

“Also, don’t think I’m stupid. I saw it in your eyes out there, when you pushed me away and went out on your own,” he continues. “You didn’t want me to get hurt, right? But it would’ve gotten us both in trouble to come back empty-handed, so you went ahead and sacrificed yourself.” 

A heat rises to my cheeks. I can’t help the laugh. “I didn’t know I was so easy to read.”

“So I’m right?” he asks. 

I hesitate. 

The truth will hurt him. It will. But he isn’t an idiot, and I can’t keep lying to him after he’s already figured out the truth.

So I close my eyes. 

“Dying, it’s… It’s agony.” My voice is a whisper as the words fight me. “It leaves you scarred and empty and terrified of it happening again, and the worst part is… You know it will. That there’s no ending it. No matter how many times you die, you’ll always come back. And I… I didn’t want you to go through it.”

Kane’s breathing picks up. “How many times have you…?”

“Twelve.”

“Shit.”

Warm fingers curl around mine. I open my eyes to look at him sitting right there next to me. The fire in his gaze is warm now. It’s hopeful and confident and kind, and a part of me melts — a part I had forgotten exists. 

“So what do you say?” he asks. “If we run, neither of us will have to worry about dying again. We can go somewhere safe.”

“If we get caught, they’ll reset us,” I remind him, even though I’m not sure I fear that possibility. 

That fire in him... 

My heart picks up the pace. 

What if he’s right? What if we could run? 

“And if we stay, we’ll never be anything but their slaves to live and die at their command,” Kane says. “I really think it’s worth the risk. We either make it or nothing changes.” 

I don’t let the rushing of my heart show. “Where could we even go?”

“Well, I heard they aren’t fighting in Iceland.”

I can’t help the burst of laughter. It sends a flare of pain down my gut, turning my laughing into airy gasps as I squeeze my eyes shut once more. 

“Iceland, huh?” I manage. “That’s— That’s a long way from here.”

Kane’s hold of my hand tightens as the grin on his lips widens. “It’s just a hop and a skip and a boat-ride away. I heard they’re taking refugees from all over the world, and they have no laws regarding artificial people. Aden, we could be real people there. There’d be no more this— This, dying and fighting and being all miserable. And I know I’m a newbie who has no idea what it’s like, but out there today with you? I saw enough. I don’t want this, and I know you don’t want it either. When that warehouse blew up… You were screaming and I was terrified. And that asshole’s just gonna kill you? Put you through all that agony like you’re worth nothing, after everything you’ve done for him? To hell with that! We deserve better. You deserve better.”

The pain eases and I lift my gaze to him. Thar confident, hopeful glimmer in his dark brown eyes makes me smile. 

How could I ever kill that sparkle? 

“Okay,” I say, and it’s the easiest word I’ve ever said. 

Kane gasps, snapping upright. “That’s—”

“But,” I interrupt, “let’s wait for me to get into my new body first. After that, we have to get out and destroy our backups. I mean, what good does it do if we’re killed somewhere out there and just get reborn here again?” 

He furrows his brows at me, though the excitement never really disappears. “Are you sure? About the new body, I mean.”

“My back’s broken. I can barely wiggle my toes. If we want to go, I need a new one.”

“But what about the pain and the scars and—”

“It’ll be different this time,” I say, slip my hand out of his grasp, and smack him across the forehead. “Because it’s for me. Not them.” 

A shy smile rises on Kane’s lips. He nods. “If you’re sure. Tell me what I need to do.”

xx

“Did you know that we were designed to yearn freedom?” Kane asks. He lies next to me, his hands behind his head as a pillow. “I saw it when I hacked in to delete our files.” 

Waves beat against the sides of the ship in a rhythm I never want to end. Chatter echoes from somewhere far away, but here, on this empty, dark deck at the rear of the massive ship, there’s no one but us. The milky way crosses the pitch black sky, and I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen it. 

I keep my gaze on the sea of stars. “Well, that came back to bite them in the ass.” 

Kane sighs. “It kinda makes me wonder how real I am. Do I only want this because they designed me to want this?” 

A smile grows on my lips. I roll over onto my side, closer to him. “You think too much. But the answer is no.” 

He turns a bit more sideways and faces me, a grin crossing his face. “You sound sure.”

“I am,” I say, shrugging as well as my position lets me. “You were the one who said it first. We’re people, just like them. Who cares what they designed us to be? We already defied it.” 

He lifts an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

In the darkness, his eyes are almost black; and as gorgeous as the stars are, I don’t want to turn my gaze from him.

I clear my throat. 

Focus, Aden. 

“I mean, we were designed to be the perfect soldiers,” I say. “We were designed to fight, to yearn to win the war, to find that sort of freedom. We weren’t meant to disobey our leaders or run away. We weren’t designed to do any of that, and yet, here we are.” 

I roll onto my back, lifting my gaze up to the stars. 

They really can’t compare to his eyes. 

Kane’s voice is soft as he laughs. “Okay, yeah, since you put it that way. Maybe I do think too much.” 

“You most definitely do.”

“But why did we start disobeying them?” he asks. “And when? They’re our creators, so couldn’t they nip it in the bud? Make changes to our code and that’s that?”

I shrug. “Maybe they just don’t care. As long as people keep dying, they can make more of us, so even if a few disobey and run, it’s no issue.”

“Huh,” Kane says. “That makes sense. I guess.”

Silence falls on us. 

It’s been a long time since I could lie down and watch the stars like this. So long, I don’t even want to think back to it. 

The memories of my first lives are hazy. Back when I was nothing but a thing, an object only practicing independent thought, decades before the war ever started. 

But no matter how hazy my memories are, I remember him. In another body, yes, but I remember a man just like him by my side. A man with the same fire in his eyes, the same kindness in his tone, and the same need for freedom. A man who taught me hope. A man who made my smile a little brighter and my heart beat a little faster.  

Was this designed? 

Kane moves closer to me. He brings his hand to my palm and curls his fingers around mine. I smile and return the hold as my heart fills with something he’d reminded me I could feel. 

Nah. 

There is no way anyone could design a feeling like this. 

I turn my head to sneak a glance at him, but his eyes are already on me. 

He grins. “You look happy. Relaxed.”

“You too,” I say. 

“Well, I am,” he says. “Nobody’s gonna force us into anything ever again. And when we die, we’ll die. There’s no code to bring us back to that hell anymore. And Iceland’s only a few more hours away. We made it. What’s there to worry or feel shitty about? And yeah, anything could happen, but whatever waits for us in Iceland… It’s gotta be better than what we had.” 

My smile widens. I trace my thumb over the top of his hand. “By the way, you gotta teach me how to paint.”

“Seriously?” he asks and melts into an innocent little laugh. “Sorry. Sure. I’d be happy to. I just didn’t take you for the type that’d enjoy something like that.”

“Honestly, me neither,” I say. “But who knows? I’ve never gotten the chance to try it, or anything else, really. So... I want to find out what I like.”

Kane’s eyes light up as he smiles, and I swear my heart can’t take it. 

“You’ll figure it out,” he says, nudging closer to me. His voice is soft. “You’re free now.”

I can feel a heat rise on my cheeks. I touch my forehead against his and close my eyes. 

Thank you.

[ultrafangirlishness]

Alone on Christmas (Part 3)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Synopsis: Deceit hates Christmas, especially now that it’s without Virgil— his first Christmas alone. Or so he thought.

Word count: 3,223

Pairings: None romantic, all platonic

Warnings: slight Deceit angst (some anxious and insecure thoughts), sympathetic Deceit, minor arguing/tension, Christmas themes, lots of fluff, fluff ending

A/N: Hey everyone, this is my FIRST FIC EVER, inspired by this post by @max-the-queer. I had a lot of fun with this and am excited to present this totally self-indulgent fic. Unfortunately I forgot about Tumblr’s textbox limit, so I had to split it up. Feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated! (Also note this is pre-Remus). Happy Holidays, everyone!

Other parts here: 1 | 2 | 3

Special thanks to @sparkleydoggy-main​ for editing.

——————————————————————

Deceit was outfitted in a thick black coat, his new yellow scarf, and his regular old gloves and hat. He had to admit it wasn’t a bad look, and it was much warmer than just his cape. The five of them finally exited the warmth and safety of Patton’s house, and Deceit was surprised to feel as though being outside in the winter wasn’t going to suck the life force out of him. Aside from the exposed skin and scales on his face, he actually felt quite warm. Logan had been right. Without having to focus on the blinding cold, snow really was beautiful.

The snow was still falling, but only in tiny specks now. The group was spread out around the lawn, bundled up in various winter attire. Logan and Patton were out on the empty snowy street, admiring all the shops and houses covered in fresh snow and Christmas lights. Roman was off to the side of the yard, making what looked like the start of a snowman. Virgil remained on the door-step in silence, taking everything in.

The sight of it all amazed Deceit. Everyone seemed so… at peace. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content; not bitter and angry at the world. Not just surviving, but living.

He began wandering across the yard, simply enjoying the scene laid out before him. Just as he was about to reach the area where Roman was working, Deceit felt a cold chunk of snow shatter against the back of his collar. He turned around to see a mortified Virgil—his mouth hanging open and eyes wide in terror.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” he sputtered out, “that was meant for Princey!”

The irritation Deceit had initially felt quickly melted away into something he hadn’t felt in a long time: playfulness.

“A feeble attempt,” he said. “Really, Virgil, I thought you were better than that. Apology unaccepted. However, I do accept your declaration of war.”

“My de—?” Virgil’s confusion was cut off by a snowball to the shoulder. Deceit had to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh when seeing Virgil’s dumbfounded expression. Shock quickly turned into competitiveness, and Deceit could see he was trying not to smile. There was a dangerous glint in his eye, like lighting a fire; a look Virgil only ever got when they used to rough house together. It felt like so long since Deceit had seen that look, and he was glad to have it back, even if it was just for this one moment. “So that’s how you wanna play.”

Virgil knelt down to load more ammunition when Deceit cupped his hands to his mouth and called, “Hey, Roman, sounds like that snowball was for you. Courtesy of Virgil.”

“Dee!”

Roman turned around from his snowman, looking at Virgil with his hand on his chest. “Excuse me?” He said in mock-offense, “Trying to attack me, the prince, while his guard is down? My own best friend? How dare you!”

“Oh, get over yourself, Princey,” he laughed, tossing a new snowball up in his hand.

“What do you say we take down this fowl beast together?” Roman asked Deceit.

“With pleasure.” Deceit and Roman began to advance.

“Hey, w-wait! No fair!” Virgil said, backing up, “You guys can’t team up on me like that!”

“Are you kiddos playing nice?” Patton jokingly called over from where he and Logan were standing.

He was answered with a snowball to the back. “No,” Roman said through a grin. Virgil snickered.

Logan turned. “Hey now, don’t get us involved in your silly little qua—”

It was Patton’s turn to cut him off with a snowball, accidentally hitting him in the side of the head. Everyone froze, afraid they’d gone too far. Patton’s hands shot up to cover his mouth.

“Alright,” he said, deadly calm. He took in a deep breath, cracking his neck and knuckles. “You asked for it.”

Everyone ran.

Logan quickly began scooping up bunches of snow in his fists, grinning from ear to ear, running after a screaming Patton. While Roman was distracted with steering clear of Logan, Virgil finally got his snowball to its original target. “Hey!”

Everyone forgot who was teaming up with who, and soon it was every man for themselves. Snowballs were flying in every which way, targeting whoever was closest.

 Deceit had never really been in a full-fledged snowball fight before, and he was a little worried he was going to hurt someone, but no one seemed to really mind getting hit. The snowball to Virgil was a bold move, but it only seemed to break the ice between them. The entire time he’d been over, Virgil had barely even acknowledged his presence. Now they were indulging in the same kind of chaotic fun they always had. Deceit decided it couldn’t hurt to join in.

Who was the easiest target? Probably Patton, but he was already occupied with Logan. Patton had been backed to a wall and was giggling nervously as Logan approached.

 “Wait, Lo, we can talk about this!” he squeaked, bracing himself for the kill.

“Hey!” Virgil called to distract Logan, “That’s my friend!”

“He’s my friend too!” Roman announced proudly.

“Oh,” Logan said, turning around and letting Patton slip from his trap. “I’m so glad you two have offered to take his place as sacrifice. How kind.”

“Oh, wait, never mind!” Roman called back when he realized what he’d just gotten himself into. He and Virgil ran for it, but Logan was like a machine. He hit both his targets with pinpoint accuracy, catching Virgil off-guard and knocking him to the ground with a muffled “Oof!”

Meanwhile Deceit had completely forgotten about Patton, who had snuck off while everyone was distracted by the Logan/Virgil/Roman show, and was shocked to feel a ball of snow hit his shoulder.

Deceit turned around to see Patton stick out his tongue playfully. He stuck his forked tongue out in return, causing Patton to bust up.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Patton,” Deceit said melodramatically, gathering more snow in his hands.

Patton was too busy clutching his stomach laughing to respond.

Though Virgil had fallen prey to Logan, Roman had escaped and was positioned behind Patton, holding his finger to his lips.

Roman silently launched his snowball. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the best shot. The snowball hit Patton directly behind the knees with full force and sent him straight to the ground.

It was Deceit’s turn to crack. There was something so shocking and sudden about it, Deceit doubled over, laughing so hard he was forced to the ground right along with Patton.

 “Sorry, Pat!” Roman screeched and rushed over. The three of them were on the ground, barely catching their breaths. It almost hurt to be laughing so hard. Deceit wiped his eyes and slowly stood, helping Patton back up.

Patton’s glasses were slightly askew across his flushed cheeks, but he was grinning like he was having the time of his life. He helped Roman back up, who profusely apologized through his laughs and wrapped Patton in a hug. Deceit strolled over to watch the showdown between Virgil and Logan, though there was really no fight for Virgil. He was already pinned into the snow.

 “Wa—Logan, no!” he heard Virgil scream with laughter as Logan began stuffing snow into Virgil’s coat. There was a hint of satisfaction in Logan’s eyes that both amazed and terrified Deceit.

“Hey, don’t put this on me, you’re the one who started this whole thing!”

“Did not!”

Deceit couldn’t help but laugh quietly into his glove at the sight of big, tough Virgil being taken down by the ever-stoic Logan, like some sort of petty sibling fight.

“Deceit’s the one who made it into a war,” Virgil said, shooting Deceit a look. Normally he would’ve been hurt by a look from Virgil, but Deceit saw that it was no longer filled with anger and resentment. The look he gave was one of grudging gratitude, like that little bit of a release was something he had desperately needed.

Virgil finally got his chance to fight back and pushed Logan off of him, breathing heavily through leftover giggles. He threw some powder back at Logan for good measure.

“I’ll do it again, you know,” Logan warned, brushing the snow off his pants.

“You’re crazy, you know that, Lo?” Virgil laughed.

Logan just smiled and straightened his glasses.

Everyone headed back inside to warm up and settle down for the afternoon. Coats, scarves, and other accessories were hung back up on the coat rack to dry. Patton put on a record for top Christmas hits and sat down with a cup of cocoa. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay, Deceit, it’s been wonderful having you here.”

Deceit felt a pleasant warmth rise up within him. “I quite am, Patton, thank you.”

He didn’t detect any sort of lie in Patton’s statement, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he really meant that. They enjoyed having him around?

“Are you loving Christmas yet?” Roman asked excitedly.

“Uh…” he wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Before he could give a proper answer, Brenda Lee’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree began to play, making Patton spring to his feet.

“Ooh, this is one of my favorites!” He squealed. Then, turning serious, he whipped around to face Logan.

“Logan, will you have this dance?”

Patton bowed dramatically, holding out his hand to Logan who scoffed and rolled his eyes. He reluctantly took Patton’s hand, trying to hide his smile.

Patton led the two in a bouncy, improvised-swing type of dance, pulling poor Logan right along. Between Patton’s silly antics and a little bit of embarrassment, Logan’s composure was quickly breached. He was laughing almost uncontrollably, weakening as he was pulled along by a singing Patton, his face redder than ever. “Patton!” Logan laughed. “Slow down!”

The scene unfolding before them was too good, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Hey now, these two can’t be having all the fun.”

Virgil stood up from the wall where he, Roman, and Deceit were leaning against to view the show.

“C’mon, Princey,” he grabbed Roman’s arm, “You’re dancing with me.” Virgil dragged Roman out to where Logan and Patton were.

“Gladly, my dearest knight!” Roman beamed and let Virgil lead the way, dancing next to the other two in that free-swing kind of way.

Deceit watched in fascination and awe at the four friends, dancing and laughing themselves silly, not having a care in the world. He too couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It really was an honor to get to witness such a wholesome moment in time.

He was snapped out of his gaze when Roman began approaching, his hand extended. “Your turn!”

“Oh, uh,” Deceit tried to think of a way out. He really was enjoying himself just by getting to watch the others. “That’s okay, I—" But Roman didn’t seem to be giving him an option, as Deceit was yanked to the dance floor. “Come on, Snake, let’s rattle!”

“Only if you never say that again,” he tried his best to sound irritated, but he doubted it was very effective when it was obvious that he was trying not to smile.

Roman laughed. “Whatever you say, Jekyll and Lied.”

Roman and Deceit danced with surprising ease, Virgil returning to his spot to watch the others.

“What a fine dance partner you are!” Roman exclaimed as the song came to an end. Everyone began slowing down, breathing hard but smiling just the same.

 “Thank you, dear Roman,” Deceit said with a theatrical bow, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Wonderful performances, everyone!” Roman announced cheerfully as the next song began. “Now, switch partners! I call the Nerd over there!”

“Hey!” Logan pouted as Roman strolled over to Logan cheekily.

Patton glanced at the remaining dance partners and quickly added, “And I’ll grab us all some drinks! Be right back!” Leaving Virgil and Deceit the only two left.

Suddenly dancing didn’t seem so fun.

Deceit steeled his nerves and cautiously approached Virgil, who eyed him warily. “Virgil, would you…?”

“Yeah, fine, let’s just get this over with,” he said with an eye roll, taking Deceit’s hand.

The Christmas Song was the next to play, bringing everyone down to a kind of casual slow dance, for which everyone was grateful. After about a minute of dancing and avoiding eye contact, Virgil was the first one to speak up.

“I guess... it is nice to see you again,” he admitted.

Deceit pretended not to notice the blush growing on Virgil’s face and said, “What’s that? You’re mumbling, Virgil.”

“You know what I said,” he spat, his face only continuing to redden. Deceit chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” Deceit said, softening his voice to a more serious tone. His dance partner finally met his eyes. “For everything.”

It took Virgil a moment to process those words, letting silence fall between them as they listened to the others apparently having their own fun.

“Quit stepping on my feet, Roman, I thought you were supposed to be a good dancer!”

“Hey, I am a good dancer!”

Virgil looked down at the floor and quietly said, “Me too.”

It was early evening when the group of friends decided to settle down with a movie: the original Grinch. Patton made popcorn for everyone while Roman broke out the blankets. Virgil went around the house, closing all the blinds and shutting off lights as Logan set up the movie. Deceit asked if there was anything he could do to help, but everyone just told him they had it taken care of and to make himself comfortable on the couch. He grabbed a blanket and did what he was told.

Once all preparations were made and the beginning credits started to show, everyone took their seats. Patton jumped to the space on Deceit’s left, yelling, “I call sitting next to Dee!” Virgil grinned and climbed over to the opposite side. Logan and Roman sat on the floor, Logan’s shoulder’s straddled between Virgil’s knees and Roman stretched out on his side, throwing his legs over Logan’s lap. Patton and Virgil cuddled up on either side of Deceit, causing a warmth to spread through his limbs and fluttering feeling in his stomach. The sudden and intimate contact was a bit surprising, but certainly not unwelcome.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he said to no one in particular, an excited edge creeping into his voice. “But this is actually really unpleasant. In fact, this is the worst time I’ve had in a while!”

“Aww, that’s great to hear!” Patton praised and nuzzled into Deceit, wrapping himself and his blanket around his arm. 

Roman chuckled and said, “I told you I’d make you like Christmas,” but yelped when Logan flicked the bottom of his foot.

“I still hate you, you know,” Virgil said in his usual irritated voice, but when Deceit looked over he was smiling.

Patton yawned. “Gee, for a cold-blooded creature, you sure are warm...”

The group was mostly silent during the rest of the movie, having exhausted all their energy earlier in the day. Deceit silently observed Virgil, who was absentmindedly playing with Logan’s hair as he watched the movie. When Virgil realized what he was doing had accidentally put his friend to sleep, he retracted his hand and curled up under his blanket. Everyone but Virgil and Deceit were out cold at this point, lulled by the sound of the movie playing in the background and the comfort of everyone cuddled up together. Roman was curled up to a pillow on the floor next to Logan, whose head had fallen back into Virgil’s lap. Patton was completely wrapped up in his blanket, snuggled up against Deceit’s side. And he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He could’ve stayed there forever, perfectly content.

Virgil yawned, resting his head lightly against Deceit’s arm. Then, without taking his eyes off the screen, whispered, “I missed you”. It was so quiet, barely audible, Deceit wasn’t sure if it was meant to be heard, or even said at all. For all he knew he could’ve been talking to one of the characters on-screen. Deceit just smiled and leaned his cheek to the top of Virgil’s head, sighing contentedly and trying not to let the warm sleepy air get to him too.

 •••

Deceit was surprised by how sad he felt to be leaving. The last twenty-four hours seemed to have gone by so fast. The five of them gathered together in the foyer again, this time to see Deceit off.

“I guess this is it, then,” he said.

“Thank you so much for coming, Deceit, it was a pleasure having you,” Patton said, wrapping him in a hug. “Feel free to visit, okay?”

Deceit returned the hug. “The pleasure was mine. Oh! I almost forgot…” He began taking off his Christmas sweater.

“Oh no, no,” Roman stopped him. “That’s yours, my friend.”

“But—”

“For next time,” Logan smiled.

“And this?” he asked, holding up Virgil’s spare coat he had borrowed.

“You can keep it,” Virgil shrugged. “Seemed to do you a lot more good than it did me.”

“Thank you.” Deceit pulled on the coat and wrapped his new scarf securely around his neck. He put his gloves and hat back on.

Deceit looked around at everyone, not sure what to say.

“Thank you again,” he said finally. “Really. This was by far the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Roman did a small fist pump.

“I… I hope to see you all again,” he said, opening the door. “In the near future.”

“We love you too, you stupid snake,” Virgil said teasingly.

There was one more round of hugs before Deceit stepped out onto the snowy porch. 

When it was Virgil’s turn, there was a small moment of hesitation before he finally threw his arms tightly around Deceit, paralyzing him for a moment. Deceit relaxed into it and gratefully returned the hug. They stood there embraced for maybe a tad longer than was comfortable, but no one really minded. He heard a soft “aw” from Patton.

Just as he was about to step off into the street, he heard, “Hey.”

He turned. “Don’t be a stranger,” Logan said.

“Yeah! You might be the bad guy, but you’re our bad guy now!” Roman said.

“Sucks to be you,” Virgil agreed with a smirk, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

Deceit just laughed and waved, turning back around.

The snow began to fall once again, but this time was different. For the first time, Deceit didn’t mind the cold. He smiled and hummed to himself as he made his way back to his apartment.

He had somewhat of a family now. A small, chaotic one, but a family nonetheless. People who had accepted him back into their lives, even when he hadn’t been the greatest to them in the past. They had given him a second chance, a fresh start— and that was more than Deceit could’ve ever asked for.

Roman had been right. Christmas really could be a wonderful time of year when you have the ones you care about there to keep you warm. Maybe the holiday season wasn’t so bad after all.

[estelofimladris]

Queerness and Death in The Magicians by SE Fleenor (The Removed Syfy Article)

[ NOTE: This article is being reposted in its entirety because it was removed by the Syfy website where it was originally posted. I (estelofimladris) did not write it, but still had it open after its removal. Please read and enjoy - send the writer, S.E. Fleenor, some love if you can. ]

by S.E. Fleenor

SPOILERS FOR THE MAGICIANS SEASON 4 FINALE!

By now you already know that The Magicians’ Quentin Coldwater died in the Season 4 finale. Yes, D-E-D, dead. There’s no resurrection in the works and no trick of astral projection or Niffin state of higher being can bring sweet, depressed, narcissistic Quentin back.

The decision to kill off a major character — the major character, if the Lev Grossman novels still mean anything (they don’t) — is almost always controversial. But we live in the day and age of Game of Thronesand The Walking Dead and Thanos snapping half of the Avengers (and the universe) into nothingness. Any character could die at any moment (and sometimes all of the characters could die at any moment) and that’s the brave, new, kill-happy world our media is made in.

So, why does it matter that Quentin is dead?

Well, my friends, let’s revisit a little trope we like to call Bury Your Gays. Throughout media representations of queer folks, reaching back to 19th-century Victorian novels, the formula has been about the same: An LGBTQ+ character is introduced, they reveal their sexuality or an attraction to a specific person, and then they die, die, die, often horrifically. This trope is also called Dead Lesbian Syndrome due to the overwhelming number of queer women who have been slaughtered onscreen — not exactly the representation queer women have been begging for.

Back when archaic censorship laws ruled the page and the screen, writing about queer characters was taboo and the only way queer writers, or folks who wanted to create queer characters, could include LGBTQ+ characters was by portraying them unfavorably. Queer characters could exist, but only as a warning of what a “perverted” life would bring you. So, in order to get some kind of representation, LGBTQ+ characters had to suffer.

Sounds a little rough, huh? Like who would really bury their gays? Oh, just Buffy the Vampire Slayer, True Blood, The 100, The Walking Dead, The Expanse, Jessica Jones, Xena, Smallville, Battlestar Galactica, Hex, Torchwood, Hemlock Grove, Teen Wolf, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Dracula, The Vampire Diaries, Arrow, Salem, American Horror Story, Ascension, Lost Girl, Scream, The Shannara Chronicles, The Exorcist, Van Helsing, Doctor Who, Gotham, The Handmaid’s Tale, The Purge, and last but not least (and not for the first time): The Magicians.

Let it be noted that I have only included science fiction, fantasy, and horror TV shows on this list and only those that I know about. The list is much, much longer when you include non-genre TV shows and film. (Autostraddle has a very complete list of queer women on TV who have been killed off, for those of you who feel like being sad.)

Oh, did you recognize a bunch of queer-friendly shows in that list? Does that somehow feel like a violation of the promise made when a series goes out of its damn way to present itself as queer and feminist?

EXACTLY. And, that, my sweet babies, is why people are pissed about the death of Quentin Coldwater, generally speaking. We’re sick of seeing queer characters die over and over again. But, what specifically about the death of Quentin is so frustrating? I’m so glad you asked.

Full disclosure: I'm not going to get into the creators' rationale for killing off Quentin. I've read all the interviews with the creators and with Jason Ralph, who plays Quentin, and they all read like a whole lot of familiar BS. (At least Hale Appelman, who plays Eliot, gets it.)

In the first season of The Magicians, Quentin, Eliot, and Margot have a threesome. It’s the first time Quentin has sex with a man, as far as we know, and it’s the first time we see him start to confront his queerness. In Season 3’s “A Life in the Day,” Quentin and Eliot end up in a different Fillory, from before they were born, where they must solve an unsolvable puzzle. As they spend a lifetime working on the mosaic, they fall in love, raise a child, and make their queer family work. Upon returning to the main timeline, barely a word is spoken about their encounter, and queer folks everywhere braced ourselves for that experience to be treated as an anomaly from another timeline. (Another weird queer trope where characters get to be LGBTQ+, but only elsewhere or else when or, or, or…)

Season 4 brought unexpected twists and turns, such as Eliot being trapped inside his own mind by the Monster. With that, many a fan prepared to let Queliot rest. And, then “Escape from the Happy Place,” took us into Eliot’s mind and — after exploring a lot of deep trauma that has a particularly queer flavor to it — back to the day Eliot and Quentin came back from their lifetime in Fillory. As they sit on the steps of the throne room, Memory Quentin and Memory Eliot talk about what happened between them. Memory Quentin asks Memory Eliot why they shouldn’t try to be together, saying “Who gets proof of concept like that?”

Eliot kisses Memory Quentin hard on the mouth and then walks through the door that will allow him to take control of his body for a moment. In the real world, face to face with Quentin, Eliot gets a signal out that he’s still alive. He looks at Quentin and repeats the question Quentin had asked him, following it with, “Peaches and plums, motherf*cker.” When he realizes who he’s looking at, Quentin hesitates, a look of surprise and longing washing over his face.

This deeply emotional and compelling storyline appeared at the same time that Quentin finally officially rebuffed Alice’s advances, telling her he no longer wanted to be together, that he could never see her the same way again.

Then, after all that work, after all the maturation the characters undergo, the series undoes everything, shoehorning in a last-minute declaration of love between Quentin and Alice and killing off Quentin when he uses magic in the Mirror Realm, without ever seeing Eliot again. Quentin then goes to the Underworld branch of the library and meets with Penny 40 while reminiscing over his life and pondering over whether or not he died by suicide. (The treatment of suicide in the episode is problematic and deeply offensive.)

There are probably as many critiques of this ending as there are people who watched it, but I’m going to focus on the main issues that stood out to me.

The series has gone out of its way to confirm Quentin as queer and tease the possibility of a queer love story.

Queer viewers are used to surviving off subtext and tend to be fairly generous in what we’ll accept. Seriously, many a queer considers Thor: Ragnarok to be part of the queer canon when it’s not even implied onscreen that anyone is queer, and have you seen people shipping Carol and Maria in Captain Marvel? Maybe it’s because we’re used to being served scraps that the Bury Your Gays trope feels so pointed. Oh, you’re not happy with the almosts and the could-haves and the alternate timelines of queerness? Well, then we’ll make your characters queer and just murder ‘em right up.

After Season 3, The Magicians could have never acknowledged the relationship between Quentin and Eliot that takes place in another timeline or they could have shrugged and been like, “Must have been the opium in the air!” They’d already done as much with the threesome in Season 1 and all but ignoring Quentin's queerness in the episodes that follow. The series didn’t have to confirm that Quentin wanted to follow his attraction to Eliot and give being together a try. But, The Magiciansdid. The series took the time onscreen to show Eliot and Quentin kissing again, to show Eliot declaring his love for Quentin in their own code, and to show Quentin dedicate his time to helping Eliot get free.

Furthermore, how messed up is it that the series spends a significant amount of time dredging up the trauma of Eliot’s queer youth only to make him realize his biggest regret is how he treated Quentin, just for Quentin to be forced back into the closet? An episode that was deeply evocative and affirming of queerness smacks of voyeurism when taken in the context of the finale.

At the last minute, after confirming his queerness, the series forces a relationship between Quentin and Alice.

It’s hard not to see the last ditch shoving of Quentin and Alice together as an attempt to shove Quentin himself back in the closet. Season 4 shows Quentin rejecting and wanting to be apart from Alice, only for him to decide that he loves her and wants to give their relationship another try because? Honestly, I’m not sure what rationale he uses because it MAKES NO SENSE. And, what the hell does he think of imprisoned-in-his-own-body Eliot while making this decision? To judge from the series, not a whole hell of a lot.

It’s totally cool if queer or bisexual characters date people of different genders — that’s not the issue. The issue is that without a moment of hesitation, Quentin whiplashes from his lover who he knows is trapped by the Monster and cannot see, hear, or reach him to his ex-girlfriend who he has distanced himself from due to her selfish behavior.

In the context of his death, I like to call this particularly messed up turn of events “Bury Your Gays and Stomp On Their Graves” because all the work that had been done to show Quentin’s coming to terms with his own sexuality is undone shortly before he dies.

There are other ways to write a character off a series.

A lot of people fall back on bad faith arguments like: what is a show supposed to do when an actor no longer wishes to appear in the series?

The answer, of course, is: ANYTHING ELSE. They could have done literally anything else to write Quentin out of the show and release Jason Ralph from his commitment. The Magicians takes place in a world WHERE MAGIC EXISTS, where characters leave the main story to go on their own adventures, and where average human beings can become gods. There’s no excuse for falling into lazy storytelling and reifying a trope that has been well-documented and mourned for a long time.

In the novels, Quentin gets kicked out of Fillory and decides to use his discipline, minor mendings, to build a new world for himself and Alice. He essentially walks through a door and never comes back. THAT WOULD HAVE WORKED and it wouldn’t do the work of retraumatizing queer audiences.

It comes down to this: To ignore the wider implications of making a character specifically queer, having him return to his prior unhealthy relationship with a woman, and then killing him off is a disservice to queer people everywhere. It is, at once, a declaration of the meaninglessness of the queer experience and an unforgivable reminder of the expendability of queer lives.

Series like The Magicians (and before it, Buffy the Vampire Slayer) trade on their reputations as queer and feminist shows. We watch them for their powerful women and their kickass queer characters and their storylines that affirm the power of survival. And what do they give us in return? They bury their gays.

Does that mean that all LGBTQ+ characters should be immortal? The rational response would be: of course not. Up until today I may have agreed with that argument, but right now I’m feeling a little less generous. It’s 20-f*cking-19 and there is no excuse for Bury Your Gays to pop up in a progressive TV show. Maybe until series and creators who make their money off queer characters and queer fandom take responsibility for how they use the lives and bodies of queer people, maybe until then, all LGBTQ+ characters should be immortal.

I’m pretty damn sick of watching every character who loves like me, who looks like me, who explores the bounds of their sexuality like me, die. I’m sick of watching characters bust down the doors of the closets that held them back only to have their queerness erased or elided through their deaths. I’m sick of watching relationships between men and women blossom onscreen only to see queer relationships torn apart by death.

Queer people deserve happy endings. We deserve them in real life and we deserve to see them onscreen and we deserve them now.

Until that’s the norm, you better damn well consider any queer character you create immortal. Because if you don’t, we queers will f*cking haunt your basic ass.