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spookymultimedia · 3 years

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A Summer to Remember Ch 5

[Tim pov]

I walked up to Ned Flanders after breakfast and looked at him from a few feet away. He was in the kitchen working on the morning dishes, just humming to himself. It was cute. He really was a sweet man. I wasn't sweet like him. I was bitter and tired. Helen tells me I'm a pessimistic person and how I tend to see the negative side of things most of the time. I hated early mornings and usually grumbled instead of talking. Mornings were just too early sometimes. I liked to keep to myself and had a distaste for casual conversations. They felt anything but casual for me. There's uncomfortable lulls and I never know what to say. In conversation everything is unpredictable and I never have the right words. On the pulpit it's different. I've planned out what I have to say. I know what to expect for the most part. Everything is controlled. I like control. Is it selfish to prefer a little less chaos in my life?

But somehow over the years I've grown used to Ned. Of course sometimes I don't feel like talking, but sometimes he just has to worry and talk on and on about something that's not that big of a deal and sometimes I have to step in and put him into perspective of what really matters. He's a nervous person. He can't help it. We're only human. We both have our flaws; he's probably a more likeable person than I am though.

So how on earth can such a kind, optimistic, genuine person have feelings for someone like me? It was surprising. Unpredictable. But I didn't mind this surprise. It was a new discovery of this friend I've come to like. Really when I think about it, it's no surprise that he's gay.

I walked up closer to Ned and looked at him. I tried on a smile for once,

"Good morning."

He gasped at me then smiled, "Reverend. I didn't hear you; you scared me. Goodmorning. "

"I'm sorry." I frowned awkwardly. I really was that quiet, huh. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel better." He shrugged. He didn't sound confident.

"I'm here for you." I smiled again.

"I know you are." Ned smiled warmly. There was something about Ned that made you feel good. He could make you see how temporary worldly troubles are and made you feel like everything would be ok.

"Ned, are you going to come out to us as a group this morning? I think it would make for a good discussion. . .if you're comfortable with that of course."

He thought for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah, I'm comfortable. I trust all of you." He smiled at me looking happy to have some support. "Tim. . .why did you walk off like that last night?"

I just shrugged, "I don't know." I didn't have a good answer. I just didn't want to be there anymore, I had felt confused last night. What was sexuality? What was mine? I was straight, right? But how did I know that? It was all too overwhelming to process. I wasn't sure where to start.

"Oh. .ok." Ned looked down thoughtfully and looked at me again. "Should I bring up how I feel about you?? I'm sorry, I should just get over it . . .I should. .I'm sorry." He rubbed his hand on his arm nervously. He was tense. He should relax more.

"Ned it's okay, it just happens sometimes. It's up to you if you want to talk about it. . you don't have to though."

"Okay. I'll catch ya later then. I better go wash up." He walked off.

If it was up to me I'd just have both of them, Ned and Helen. Maybe something in me felt curious. I wanted to see what dating Ned would be like. I winced, confused. Why was I thinking like that? Did I have feelings for him?? That's not how marriage works. It is between a man and . . . No I mean, it's between two people, not three or more. But why not? Why was it that way? If I made Ned happy and chose to be with him that would mean I'd have to leave Helen, I love Helen. I've been through everything with her. We've had our highs and lows. We even came close to breaking at times but we stayed strong. I can't just end that now. But what if I do nothing and regret it forever? What if I end up wanting Ned more than I realize? Was this something I was seriously considering?? I felt sick.

"Timothy?"

I flinched and turned to see Maude. "Oh, it's you." I sighed out relieved. I was jittery at the moment. It didn't help that I had just drank coffee.

"Are you alright?" She cocked her head.

"Yes." I said firmly. ". .why?"

"You were staring at the wall?"

". . .mm yes." I walked off, again, for no good reason.

[Ned pov]

I sat there waiting for morning study.

I stared at the fireplace that was always lit. Helen always complained to Timothy it was impractical and only made a mess. No one really knew why he always had it lit. He just likes setting fires for some reason. My chest was feeling just like that fire; restless, warm and tense. What if Helen hates me? What if I lose her friendship? What if I ruin everything? I took my hand and gently fiddled with my other hand, pulling at its fingers nervously. It was a bit hard to breathe. Maude sat by me.

"Hey. You ok? You look tense." I looked down at her and shrugged. "He asked me to come out officially to you all and. . well, I'm scared of how Helen will take it." I muttered. She held my hand and I took it.

"Well I'm here for you. I always will." I nodded and took a deep breath.

"Ok."

Soon Timothy and Helen joined us and sat down. He opened up with a prayer and looked at me, "Ned, would you like to share an enlightening discovery you've had recently?"

I nodded but didn't say anything for a moment.

"Well?" Helen asked, a bit confused and impatient.

He put up a hand, "Helen, please." He looked at me kindly, "Take your time Ned."

I swallowed. "I'm- I'm gay. I'm a gay man. I. .I like men." My voice shook.

Helen shrugged, "Is that all? I thought it was something serious." I wasn't sure what to say to her. She wasn't upset. That was something.

"And the Lord understands you and loves you Ned, there's nothing wrong about you at all." Tim confirmed to me once again.

Should I tell her more? The truth would come out eventually, I might as well say it.

"Helen . . .I . . .I need to confess something that's been on my heart."

She looked at me puzzled, "What?"

I opened my mouth trying to find my words.

"I'm sorry. . .I just- I- I hope you can find it in your heart to understand."

"Okay. ."

"I fell in love with your husband. . .I didn't mean to. I didn't do anything with him I promised but I've just been having these strong feelings and I know it isn't right. . ." I felt a tear run down my face. She should just yell at me, I deserve it. I was shaking.

"Oh. . Oh .Ned. I understand. . .it's okay. I forgive you. It's just a harmless crush. I don't blame you. He really is a nice man." She smiled up at Tim and petted his back. Ridiculous jealousy itched at the back of my head. I wanted to hold him too. Why can't I have him?! I want him!! I need him. These bitter thoughts left me with a bad taste in my mouth. It was unlike me to feel so jealous.

"Yeah. . ."

"I'm glad you could be honest with us,Ned."

I stood up, "I need fresh air. . ." I made my way outside. I felt like I could throw up.

"Are you ok?" Tim stood up. Stop caring about me, it hurts. I kept walking and ran until I was in a meadow. I layed down. The bugs were going to be everywhere in my clothes. It didn't matter, I'll run to the showers soon. I started to cry. I was just so overwhelmed and stressed I couldn't help it. I felt dizzy. Emotions were burning me alive. My heart was yearning for something that was forbidden. He wasn't mine. He'd never be mine. The thought upset me like a spoiled child who was told no. I felt stupid.

After a minute I stood up. Maude looked at me from outside the meadow. She was only a couple feet away. "What's wrong?"

"I . . . I want to be alone right now."

She nodded,

"Okay. . .we love you."

"I know. I love you too."

[Maude pov]

I walked back to the cabin and found the Lovejoys still by the fireplace,

"He wants to be alone right now."

"Hmmm. ." Timothy looked at the floor looking distressed, "This is my fault I shouldn't have pressured him. I should have let him talk on his own terms." He ran his hand through his hair. "Did I say something wrong?"

"I don't think so?" Helen replied. She put a hand on his back.

"You're very supportive,Timothy." I sat by him.

"Thanks Maude." He smiled but still seemed worried. "He's not hurting anyone. I don't feel offended or betrayed at all." He paused before looking at Helen. "Are you?"

She shook her head, "No, he was only being honest. I don't feel upset. I don't see any issue with Ned having feelings really."

"Doesn't it bother you a little that we're married?"

She shrugged at him, "No. . .I mean I am a bit surprised. I don't know." She looked over at me and walked over to where I was sitting. I was staring at the floor thinking.

"Everything okay?"

I wanted to be honest with her but I wasn't ready. I was still anxious. I just shrugged.

"Why don't we go for a swim? Will that help?"

I smiled and nodded, "That would be nice. It's so humid out here." I stood up and gave her a hug. She hugged me back, she always did. Her hugs were firm and sincere. God, I could feel her chest under my head, they were so soft and nice. After a couple minutes I let go and left to change into swimming clothes.

I found Helen at the "beach" and sat in the shallow water with her. I sighed at the cool water, this was nice. Helen's hair was already dripping on her shoulders.

"Feel better?"

She looked down at me.

"Mmhm." I leaned on her shoulder and smiled. The shore's waves beat against our legs washing small rocks off and onto us. I picked up a smooth olive grey rock that looked pretty and looked it over. Helen started to skip stones across the water. Or at least she tried to. The most she could get were two skips and when she had she looked over at me with huge eyes, "Did you see it?" She said proudly.

"Yeah I did."

For a few moments we were peacefully quiet until she spoke up, "Maude?"

"Hm?"

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

I tensed up slightly, was she suspicious??

"No. . ."

"Oh. ." She sounded a bit disappointed, it surprised me. Why?

"I have once."

I sat up and looked at her, "Really?" I gave her a look that begged her to tell me more.

"Yeah . . I was in 10th grade and I there was this all girls sleepover at my house. Me and this one girl thought it would be funny to kiss. I dunno, we just wanted to make a scene I guess." There was a giggle and blush in her voice. I smirked, "I'm not surprised."

"Well, we did it. And we made out because it just kept getting attention and I dunno I was just young, it was just too fun. And well I . .I kinda liked how her mouth felt against mine and how her chest felt against me . ..But I was young." She shrugged.

"So?"

"So I . . .I just like men now." I could swear she was trying not to look at my wet shirt where my boobs were. She played with her hand in the water and looked down.

"Are you sure?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. .I mean. I just thought it was something all young girls went through."

"A phase?"

"Yeah. ."

"Well, do you still like girls?"

"Maybe. . .? Isn't that weird?"

"What?"

"That I'm- that I might sorta maybe still feel attracted to women while I'm married?"

"Mmmmm I don't think so."

"But I love Timothy."

"I think you can find them nice to look at and still be committed to Timothy, Helen. I forget what the word was. Umm. . .bisexual I think?"

"Oh . . ."

"That doesn't mean you're gonna go around kissing other girls. You're committed and you just happened to like girls too. It makes sense."

"But. . .what if I do want to kiss other girls?"

"I . .I don't know." I blushed. Was she thinking about what I thought she was thinking about?? I got butterflies everywhere.

"Do you?"

". .Yeah. . ."

She leaned slowly towards me, testing the waters. I stopped thinking and met her in between. I pecked her lips and she pecked at mine. Her hands rested at my waist. Something in me woke up. It was an aching desire to get closer to her. To get more of that sickly sweet sensation I was feeling that felt so nice. I poked my tongue into her mouth, and she cracked open for me to feel and explore. I kissed her deeper and felt her cheek with my palm. It was a wonderful feeling. After a minute she broke the kiss and looked at me, her face was flushed pink. "Helen . .Helen, you have to tell Timothy about us."

"It was just a kiss. . I mean friends kiss sometimes right?"

"Usually no. . .not like that."

She thought it over in her head, "God, we've made such a mess." Despite her stress her hand played with my hair, my head leaned against it.

I gave her a long look and before I knew it we were on each other again. Her kisses were hastey but deep. Intense but soft. I got into her lap and felt her hand pet at my back. One of my hands rested on her chest. It was soft, it was so soft. I wanted to grab at it and play with her . . .but that wouldn't be ladylike of me. So I resisted. I pulled out and rested on her shoulder to catch a breath. "Helen you're pushing your luck, what are you gonna do if he finds us like this?? What if he's upset?"-

I looked over at the sound of footsteps and found Timothy standing there. I quickly moved off of her. "Reverend! I . . .we. .we got- it got out of hand. .I'm sorry. Please don't be mad." I teared up feeling scared and hugged myself.

"Helen. . ?" There was hurt in his eyes. "I- I didn't realize you felt this way."

"Timothy I'm sorry. . .I still love you, I mean it. .I'm so sorry, can we talk about this?"

"I understand." He walked off solemnly.

#the simpsons #the simpsons fanfic #reverend lovejoy #timothy lovejoy #ned flanders #helen lovejoy #maude flanders #flanjoy

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aphroditeslesbian · 3 years

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I was also raised 7th day Adventist and I’m a closeted lesbian. I don’t hate my religion..because I personally didn’t have a bad experience with it in my childhood, but it clashes a lot with my beliefs and well parts of my identity. I’m feeling a bit helpless because this religion has been a big part of my life, a lot of strong women I look up to in my life are sda, and my local sda community is very wholesome. And by now you can sense my reluctance in letting it go. I’ve been coping by thinking I should find a gay-friendly sda church once I move out.. if I ever get married. What’s your journey been like? 🪴

Hey! I don't meet a lot of sda online, it's interesting to hear a different perspective. I'm gonna go into everything, bc my experiences with sda really shaped me, and yeah, it's been a wild, not so fun ride.

Basically I was baptized catholic as an infant, but my family isn't practicing catholic. My mom is very religious, and wanted me to have a good education... In Brazil, we have very poor public education in primary and secondary school, and the best schools are the private ones... Which are also religious schools. So I wound up studying in a sda school from kindergarten to highschool graduation.

So from a young age (4 yo) I was raised on my school's religious beliefs. I was really involved, and my childhood best friend was also sda, she lived a couple floors down from me and we'd hang out often, and her family would bring me to church on Saturdays (there was a sda church across the street from the apartments we lived in). I was the staple Christian child, I prayed every night and every morning, apart from all the prayer at school ofc. At 8yo they did a talk at school about the importance of baptism, and I asked my parents to allow me to be baptized as sda. My mom surprisingly didn't want me to be baptized again, not so young, but my dad said I should do what I wanted, so I was baptized again at the school's church. Literally the school had an auditorium for our weekly religion-related classes, which we called "chapel", and was basically like going to church – but mandatory, as it was during school time. This specific school also had a church built on the side, so yeah.

During my early childhood through preteen years I had no issues with the school's teachings and sda ideology. It was all I had ever known, my family encouraged religion and we'd also sometimes (rarely) go to catholic church. I honestly didn't even realize people could not believe in god until I was 12/13.

I had never really heard much about being gay, or being anti gay during primary school - I may have forgotten having ever heard it from teachers. I only heard about homophobia from peers, and so I knew that being gay was a bad, evil, gross thing.

When I was around 11/12 we moved to a smaller town, and I started at a smaller Adventist school. I was the only one in my small newly found friend group who was baptized, and moving was very traumatic for me, so I started becoming less active in church. I became severely depressed because of the move and other stuff at home, and turned to the internet for a distraction.

I first heard about atheism from a youtuber, and he was known for his controversial takes (he's pretty nasty, it's only gotten worse with time but anyway). I guess a mixture of depression, becoming a teen, having my rebellious phase, I started researching into it.

My religion teacher (we had "religion" classes, but they should really have been called "7th Day Adventism classes") was much harsher than the one I had at my first school. This was around the time that Twilight was a big deal, and I read those books sooo many times for comfort, I got into Harry Potter etc. Not long after I moved to this school, we had a religion class about how Harry Potter was inspired by the devil. My books were often confiscated during class, even if I had already finished my assignments and was reading quietly, even if they were just on my desk. Being super depressed and introverted, with very few friends, books were my refuge. Having the teachers look down on them and literally say they were devilish and evil really started to shift my view of the religion. I knew these were good books, I loved them. So how could they be evil?

I have a very strong memory of praying and praying once and begging Jesus and god to help me, to give me a sign, because I was terrified of losing my religion, of losing god. All I had learned my whole life was that god is good, god is love etc. How come god wasn't helping me, my family, through some of the worst times? How come I was alone?

At around 12/13 my cousin came out to me as bi, and soon after another cousin came out as gay. I barely fully understood what that meant, and the internet was again where I researched about it. I realized I liked girls at the time, but I never understood you could even be married to a woman, as a woman. Even though I knew I liked and was attracted to girls, I never let myself think too much on it. The school was pretty obvious about how marriage is between a man and a woman, our "sex talk" was a class with our religion teacher. Bio talk was split, the boys left the room so we could learn about female anatomy and stuff, and then the boys had the room, etc. Our religious teacher was very adamant about how one shouldn't have sex before marriage, and marriage was between a man and a woman so...

Honestly the basework they laid was to erase homosexuality. I didn't even grasp that I could be anything but attracted to girls, I didn't realize I could do anything about it.

And then in highschool, I guess bc we were old enough, they finally started being outspoken about their hatred of gay people. There would be snide comments from the Portuguese/Lit teacher, a disgusting talk from the History teacher about how gay men's sexual activity leads to anal incontinence, the Religion teacher saying it was wrong, comparing it to criminality, the school's vice principal giving us a lecture and making sure to hammer in the worst thing anyone could turn out to be was homosexual.

At this point I thought I was okay with my same sex attraction, I thought these things weren't getting under my skin. But then I learned about being trans, and I came to the conclusion that since I was into girls, I couldn't be a woman. I identified as trans from around 15-19. That was internalized misogyny and homophobia, that was me actually letting all the snide little comments settle deep in me, and shape who I was.

Anyway, at around 14 I was done. School was teaching us that bastard kids aren't blessed by god (me and my siblings are all "bastards" as my parents were never married). They told us couples who lived together and we're never married were not blessed by god, and implied they were bound to have issues for their sin.

I was a teenager living in a broken home, my father was emotionally abusive to me and my mother, and honestly at the end of the day I had to choose if I wanted to believe in a god who was supposedly love itself, yet didn't protect me and my young siblings and my mom... Or not believe in god at all.

Leaving the church and coming to terms with not believing in god was one of the toughest times in my life. My depression was in the gutter, I was self harming, I was struggling. I remember thinking of my cousins, whom I was very close with growing up, and knowing they were good people, so how could god not love then? I remember thinking of myself, of all I had done for the church, for god, and wondering how could god not accept me.

For me, the church was poison. I only saw hypocrisy, I saw people who judged each other, who cared more about their own concepts of right and wrong than being mindful of others. I saw my teachers who preached being kind, but ridiculed and laughed at other religions and those who believed them. When I was questioning religion, I always had sooo many questions for my religion teacher and so often she just told me that some questions were too big for us to understand, that only god could fully comprehend himself.

I'm proud to have come out the other side, but I won't lie. The community that church represents does seem so lovely and welcoming. I wanted to be a part of something, and church offered that.

But at the end of the day, there's no space for me, a lesbian, in there. They don't believe gay marriage is okay, they don't condone our "lifestyle". They think this is a choice we're making, and a bad one at that.

The childhood friend I mentioned earlier, who I used to go to church with, actually came out as a lesbian a couple years ago as well. Her sda family is giving her a really hard time. She's left the church, last I heard.

Honestly, my advice would be to find other community. Find community with other lesbians, people who can accept you unconditionally, who can offer you support without small print. That's what I'm trying to do.

I personally am against christianity for a lot of other reasons besides my very negative experiences. Maybe that's not you, and in that case I guess finding a church that is LGB friendly can be the answer. I couldn't judge anyone for choosing to stay, because like I said I really understand how nice it can feel, how it's like you belong in this community, how it can feel like the church is family.

But I really suggest deep soulsearching, because in my experience all they ever did for me was suck all my energy, all my devotion, and spit me out when I was never going to be the heterosexual good girl they expected me to be.

Sorry for the super long answer, I hope this helps some? If you wanna talk more in private you can hit me up through DMs, I'm very willing to listen and talk about it.

#anti religion #sda #august rants #homophobia #lesbophobia #misogyny

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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 3 years

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Friendly Encounters- Chapter Ten

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Fluff

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Graphic Depictions of sex, Homophobic Parents

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 10.9k

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Reader x Yoongi

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________________________

Graduation day came rather quickly so as soon as you were done receiving your diploma, your father took you out to get some ice cream from your favorite ice cream shop. Jimin and Yoongi were also there, they made sure to stay out of sight since your father had no idea they were so involved in your life.

After that, he drove straight home so you could grab your things and go for an afterparty-sleepover at your friend’s house. What neither of your parents knew was that you were also going to another afterparty, at a nearby jock’s house.

You made sure to keep it a secret from your parents, and Jimin and Yoongi didn’t even know. They didn’t have to, you can still keep things from them. You have the right to secrets, all though it’s probably not the smartest idea for you to be sneaking out to another boy’s house in the middle of the night.

You and a few other girls get changed in the bedroom, slipping into some party casual wear before sneaking out the window. You finally reach the party, your hair tucked behind your ears to reveal your diamond earrings, another gift your father got for you.

“Hey Y/N. Looking good.” The host of the party checks you out, and you can’t help but blush as no boy has ever given you a compliment before. Besides your boyfriends.

“Thanks, how are you doing by the way? We haven’t been able to talk in quite a while, right?” He nods, before waving over a group of jocks.

“Yeah, let’s catch up later.” You watch as they start playing ball on the grass like a couple of dogs. Boys will always be immature, no matter how old they get.

“Hey, Y/N, there’s someone I want you to meet,” One of your friends gestures for you to come over as you cross the field, avoiding the football as the boys run after it like headless chickens. You finally reach the other side, seeing a handsome man seated next to her. “This is my boyfriend.”

“Hi, you can call me Finch. I have a stupid first name so that’s better.” He explains as you shake hands with him. The guy has a tight grip, definitely level-headed. You can tell a person’s character traits just from shaking their hands, so reading Finch is no problem.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You introduce yourself just as a crowd starts blocking the balcony door. You were currently standing in the backyard, which had a pool, a hot tub, and blaring music. It was a pretty stereotypical party.

“Oh cool, the chaperone arrived. Caleb’s parents wouldn’t let him throw a party unless he had adult supervision even though we’re all legally adults, so he just invited his brother in-law. Well, his previous brother in-law anyways. His older sister passed away a couple of years ago. Her husband still visits their family though, insisting that it’s his job to look after them since she isn’t here.” The sudden rush of information seems too familiar for you to not draw the conclusion that the person Finch is talking about is none other than-

“JIN!!!” You hear Caleb’s voice boom from the back as he runs over and picks up the man to carry him over his shoulder like he’s a rag doll.

“Hey kid, put me down. I need to scope out this party so I can make sure the vibes are right. That’s what my crush told me to do, at least,” He pulls out his phone to show his brother a checklist. You were freaking out, half worrying about Jin telling your boyfriends that you were here and half worried about Jin leaking the fact that you’re dating two boys at the same time to your entire student body. You knew it was going to be negative either way, so you hid in plain sight.

When Jin finally walked over to your general area, you just happened to be making a pizza run. And so, you ran into him. “Whoa, you’re here? It’s a small world. What were the odds that you were friends with my dead wife’s younger brother?” You cringe at his word choice as he rubs his neck sheepishly, equally regretting the wording of that question as well.

“Pretty high, I guess. Listen up Jin, I need you to pretend like you don’t know me any more than just a customer. I don’t want anyone to know about my dating Jimin and Yoongi. Just say I’m a regular at your coffee shop, that’s all.” Jin nods, accepting the message more easily than you expected. You bite off a good chunk of pizza before proceeding to sit down and continue talking to your friends for the rest of the night.

༻• At Home •༺

You arrive back at your house approximately around 1 pm. When Jimin and Yoongi see you again, however, your father is in the room with you, so you can’t just run into their arms like how you normally do. You simply just wait until you excuse yourself to “change” so that you could say hello and tell them everything in the comfort of your room, the one place your father never entered. This was your personal space, the one place you could be yourself.

Even as Jimin and Yoongi continue chatting away on your bed, you’re calm as you ever imagined you would be, since your father is back home just so he can “ask” you about college. Although, you already know you’re going to the college his friend’s son is going to, Pelard University. You personally wanted to study business, so you were content with that choice.

Your father wanted you to get married to a wealthy boy and that was that. Yet, you’ve learned what true love is, and experienced a healthy relationship where you don’t have to hide things. Not to mention, they also taught you that you can love two people at the same time and have a working relationship.

Although it’s not the most conventional, you love them both, so much. You’re just not sure if your dad would see it the same way. Your mother understood, listening to you as the three of you sat down and explained it to her, but the main reason why she was so worried was because of your dad. He’s so traditional, believing arranged marriage is the key to a successful future.

You hated that mindset, he isn’t open to change, especially since he goes out of his way to ignore Jimin and Yoongi since they’re an openly gay couple. You’d rather die than have your father figure out you were in the middle of their “homosexual relations.” He only referred to them as that, “homosexuals.” Even the term “gay,” was something he didn’t allow you to say when you were in the house.

“So, are you excited for your celebratory dinner tomorrow?” Jimin asks as you slip on a dress from your closet and you rush over to your vanity to do your hair and makeup. You go with a natural look, since your dad hates modern makeup.

“I am, but who said you’re going? My dad is gonna make you guys uncomfortable, and I don’t want you guys to spend a minute with him alone. I’m not risking it.” Jimin puts his hands on your shoulders.

“If you don’t fight back, how are you supposed to break free? He’s chained you, kitten. That’s why he bosses you around and makes you do things you don’t want to do. You’re going to college soon and at that point he couldn’t possibly force you to marry some guy you don’t even know, right?” You push all your school folders to the corner of your study table before dumping stray paper into the recycling bin. All while Jimin is still poking the elephant in the room.

“Jimin, can you please put a pin in this? Just like how you didn’t want to talk about your parents, I don’t want to talk about my father. It should be pretty clear to you now what he plans for my future education. I’m sure that even Yoongi figured it out. He hasn’t said a word since I stepped foot into the house.” Judging by his blank stare, you can tell it has nothing to do with you. Or maybe you hurt his feelings without realizing it?

“You know my parents are a sensitive topic. I understand it’s the same with your dad, but at least I had the courage to stand up to them and tell them my truth. Yoongi was one good thing that came out of it.” A part of your heart pangs with guilt since you couldn’t casually bravado your love for Jimin or Yoongi with your father present.

Another part is stirring, one that had been brewing inside of you ever since your father forced you to go to such embarrassing dinner parties with boys that were less than desirable. The worst part about all of this is that your boyfriends live under the same roof as you, but your father couldn’t be the slightest bit bothered to get to know them. In his eyes, they were both failures since they worked at a café.

“You want to talk about it? Sit down, we’ll get to that. Let me first ask Yoonie what’s going on with him.” You pull your swivel chair up to the bed, as your second boyfriend sits up with his phone in his hands, his tired expression telling you everything you need to know.

“Huh?” He rubs his eyes, which are dry and cracked as if he stayed up all night long.

“What’s up? You’re not acting like yourself. Did something happen?” You ask your blond haired boyfriend as he curls up in your blankets, hiding his face from the world.

“I was thinking about what you said, the plan that you wanted to set in motion. I worked overtime so I could get more funds and support you guys, like a shadow, almost. While you appear as the perfect couple to the outside world, I could pull the strings and make you shine brighter. I was curious as to what you were thinking, since it seems like you don’t want to go with the original plan, which was marrying Jimin.” You remember back to when Yoongi was out working that one night and Jimin asked you if he was bad at sex. You told him that you’re not marrying him, with the intention of something else entirely.

“Well, obviously I don’t want to be legally bound to only one of my partners. It’s unfair. And right now, it’s dangerous for poly triads to be together in the open, so I think we should get wedding bands and have a staged wedding. We can tell our closest friends and parents but most of all, we could be equal without having a spare partner left out. I just feel like I’m not giving you enough attention, Yoon. The truth is that I fell so madly in love with you both that I was scared that I’d have to choose. I don’t think I could.” You wipe your tears away with your palms as both of your boyfriends squeeze you in a group hug.

“Kitten, we’ve been together for as long as I can remember. What makes you think I’d make you choose between Jimin and me? We’re both in love with you and we’d never put you in such a situation. And the only reason I’ve been busier than usual is because I was collecting extra funds and putting in extra effort at work so I could save money for the honeymoon. Only the best for my babies.” Yoongi chuckles as Jimin affectionately nuzzles his neck and you press a warm kiss to his cheek. Now most of your worries about Yoongi have disappeared. Now that brings you to a new array of issues.

“Now that we have that out of the way, there’s something I want to ask you. How are you gonna explain to your dad that you don’t want to get married because you want to be equally committed to two partners in your life?” You tap your chin at Jimin’s question. Honestly, you’re just going to go with the most simple answer.

“I’ll tell him the truth. If he says no, I’ll tell him to suck it up because it’s my life. You’re right Jimin, standing up for what I believe in does make me feel better.”

“Right?” Yoongi casts a glare at his boyfriend as you turn on some light music and Jimin pulls you in for a kiss. You dance the night away with your boyfriends before switching off the light and crawling into bed between them both. As you drifted off to the land of dreams, you were plagued by the thoughts of what could go wrong with your confession to your father. You were never honest with him, and you don’t know how he’ll react, except for the fact that he’s gonna freak out when he discovers what’s actually going on between you and the boys.

After twisting and turning for a considerable amount of time, you find yourself relaxing and calming down as Jimin buries his head in the nape of your neck and Yoongi snuggles into your chest, boobs be damned. Luckily you aren’t on your period so your chest isn’t as sensitive today.

The next day goes by a lot slower than you expected, probably because your father drains the fun out of everything you do together. You don’t hate the guy, but he makes it a lot harder for you to like him when he has the personality of a rock.

“Jimin, you are not wearing a cowboy costume to the steakhouse.” You catapult onto the swivel chair, your forehead throbbing with a diminishing anxiety of tonight and all the ways it could go wrong.

“Oh come on, I was trying to cheer you up. Really, nothing?” You’re too worried to laugh at his shenanigans. “Maybe I should dye my hair a new color. Then you’ll be in for a real surprise.” He winks at you, making your heart flutter while stopping simultaneously. If he dyed his hair again, your father would probably think even less of him. He’s already not a fan of their relationship, so Jimin is already ruining their chances of being liked. You’re the one in a relationship, so it shouldn’t matter what others think of your boyfriends. Jimin and Yoongi won over your mom with their personalities, so why couldn’t they do the same with your dad? All they have to do is be themselves and if he doesn’t like them because he’s too petty to admit that they’re the world’s sweetest angels, they needn’t try any harder. They’re perfect just as they are.

“Please don’t dye it hot pink. The last thing we need is Y/N’s dad throwing a hissy fit because you aren’t setting a good example for his daughter.”

“Who said I was dyeing it an unnatural color?” Jimin smirks before you could ask anything else. You had no clue what he was planning as he dragged Yoongi back to their shared room and locked the door, preventing you from following them. You decide to open up your phone and scroll through Instagram to see what your other friends are up to.

Speaking of, it looks like Caleb will be working at the steakhouse at the same time your family’s going for your dinner. You just pray Jin won’t show up and ruin everything even though he said he wouldn’t tell. You don’t want any hitches in the plan tonight.

You know quite a lot of people from your graduated class will be there, since some of the jocks and cheerleaders got together to celebrate their freedom from homework and other trivial things that regular teenagers worry about. You know that you already have a lot more worries, since you were juggling not one but two boyfriends, trying to keep your GPA above a 3.5, and even putting up with your father’s demands by sitting through all the awkward matchmaking dinners. Half the kids at your school didn’t even know how to make food, let alone sit through a dinner with younger boys ogling their covered breasts because they know they won’t be getting a taste of real pussy anytime soon.

You know tonight won’t be any different, since your father invited a colleague from work and he wanted you to meet his son. You feel slightly better knowing your boyfriends will be there, keeping an eye on you in case things go awry. Jimin and Yoongi knew once they heard you crying through the phone, that they would never let you experience that kind of humiliation ever again. Your mother has high hopes for you, since you seem to be breaking out of your shell and trying to make this relationship between Yoongi and Jimin work.

“Y/N, we’re driving you there. We got the clear from your parents, come on, Kit.”

“I’m coming Jim-” You’re blinded by his beauty. Beauty is not a term you can use for this, he’s just too perfect. Pink, plush lips lacquered with watermelon flavored gloss, with cheekbones highlighted by the shimmer powder from an expensive brand, and his eyebrows are so neatly spooled so that you can see every single individual strand uniformly cascading down his arch. Jimin is the definition of sex on legs, and you can’t believe that he is standing before you as he is. His normally blue silky smooth hair is sticking up, the pungent scent of hairspray filling your nostrils as he moves closer. His hair is a dark blue, much more closer to a natural black shade than ever. He looks picturesque, so handsome you just can’t tear your eyes away.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teases as you hiss at him playfully, lightly resting your hand on his plump butt.

“If you’re the cat, then yes. Also, when did I start dating a disney prince because damn.” An impish smile tugs at his lips as he pulls you to your feet, and he admires you even though you think you look like a sack of potatoes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Is that my sweatshirt?” You nod, playing with strings as your boyfriend affectionately kneads your shoulders.

“Oh God.” You freeze in Jimin’s arms as Yoongi appears in a casual pair of ripped skinny jeans and a plain white tee with a coat draping from his shoulder with a blue and orange patterned beanie draping from his newly dyed blond hair. It’s a different shade of blond, much lighter than the shade it was before. You could tell Yoongi was embarrassed by this, since he had a light blush dusting his cheeks and unlike Jimin, his posture was closed off. The way he carries himself is totally different. You still think he looks amazing, though. Both men look great, although you do make Jimin remove his pink sweater that he tied around his neck as a fashion statement. They both look handsome and ethereal while you still feel like you could look so much better. It’s a casual outing though, so you know you don’t have to worry about dressing up. Especially if you’re eating burgers and fries.

“Exactly what she said. You look amazing, Yoonie.” Jimin says something in Korean but from all your lessons that you had from him so far, the only thing you understood was “you” and “Yoonie.” You were terrified about everything failing that you failed to see the good sides, too. If all goes as planned, you would be walking out of here with all of your limbs still intact, and leaving the restaurant with the number of boyfriends you started with. Knowing Yoongi’s personality, he might not hit it off well with your father at first. After all, when you met him, he was always throwing dirty looks your way and being cautious around you because Jimin liked you more than he should like his female friends.

“Shall we go?” You ask, cutting through their moment for a minute. You didn’t want to waste any more time.

“Right. We’re going to have dinner with your parents, and your parents’ friends.” You clench your jaw, clear dislike in Yoongi’s tone as he walks ahead of you and Jimin.

“Sorry about him. He’s just mad because he wanted to bond with your parents. He’s not much of a people person, so…”

“Jiminie, it’s alright. He didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, he has every right to be mad. I would be too if one of your guys’ family brought in a guest despite you planning everything just for yourselves.” Jimin looks after Yoongi in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. You know it’s stupid, but you still can’t help feeling a little left out. Even now, as your boyfriends take the front seats and you’re sitting in the back, it’s so easy to forget that someone as insignificant as you has a place in their relationship. They’ve been together much longer than you’ve known them, that itself should be a sign that you aren’t the match for them. They’re just too high up for you to reach them. Of course, you’re never gonna tell them this.

Dinner is served, finally, and after an awkward 20 minutes of waiting for the Min family, you are introduced to their third youngest son, Noah Min. As soon as they walked into the restaurant, Yoongi’s eyes widened. His normally blank face was twisted into something more fear-filled.

“What are they doing here?” He hisses as Jimin tries to calm him down.

“We’re right here, you know? So rude, even after all these years you still never learned your place, did you Yoongi boy?” The woman who is the wife of Mr. Min, your father’s colleague, turns to Yoongi, as if she’s known him her entire life. And then it hits you.

Yoongi’s surname is Min...these people are the Min family, you are being set up with someone from the family that kicked their son out so coldly.

“I know my place is not with you, that much is certain.” You stay silent, chewing on a single fry as you watch the madness unfold.

“I see you’re still with that dancer. Hi Jimin.” He waves to her awkwardly, adjusting his chair so he was closer to the table.

“So I see you know each other. Is this your son? He lives in our guest room with his boyfriend. I had no idea you were even related.” Your father casts an expressionless look at Yoongi, immediately making the raging inferno inside of you flare up. Jimin grips your hand under the table, reminding you not to create a scene.

“Well, we practically disowned him after he decided to fall into the devil’s hands and take on that lifestyle.” You stand up, finally done with the way his family was badmouthing him right in front of you like you couldn’t hear everything.

“Dad, I’m sorry but I can’t do this. I’m not gonna let anyone speak badly about my Yoongi.” With your little slip of the tongue, your secret is out in the open.

“Your Yoongi? Pray tell, is that how you youngins’ refer to each other or is there something we should know about?” Yoongi suddenly coughs, clearing his throat before nodding to you and Jimin. Whatever he was about to say, you would follow his lead.

“It’s true that I am still together with Jimin. What I didn’t expect is that Y/N would walk through the doors of that coffee shop that fateful day and carve a place in my heart. It’s true, in addition to being in a relationship with this man, I am in love with your daughter.” Your father’s eyes widen and you’re sure he burst a blood vessel because the vein popping out of his forehead is not a good sign.

While Yoongi’s family remains neutral, except for his brother who is shaking in his seat, your father is muttering curses underneath his breath while your mom tries to calm him down.

“Well, for once you don’t disappoint me. Maybe now you could give us grandkids. I mean, that’s the only thing we were really worried about since your older brothers decided not to have any children with their wives and your two younger sisters are still in high school...now we accidentally set your brother up with your girlfriend, or tried to.” His father bellows in an authoritative manner.

Yoongi is not the slightest bit intimidated. His posture screams confidence and refinement as your mouth waters at the very sight. Seeing him look so calm is a turn-on.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe my brothers didn’t want kids to begin with and it’s none of your business judging them based on your shallow perception of reality? Your children don’t exist for you to control. I’m done being your little lapdog. I thought I said it then when I left the house but now I definitely want to make one thing clear: I don’t want anything to do with you.” He turns around and storms out of the restaurant, leaving you and Jimin worried about the rest. Tonight could not go any worse.

“Good riddance. The wife didn’t raise him right, that’s the problem.” Your father glares at you from across the table as Mr. Min continues talking out of his ass. You and Jimin decide to follow him, leaving the table in a hurry to track down your partner. You find him in the alleyway behind the employees entrance and a mysterious light is flickering over his head.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to come back. They don’t deserve to have you as a son.” You say as Jimin takes a seat beside him, despite getting dirt on his nice pants.

“Yeah. As much as it hurts, they are toxic and their goal is to crush your spirit.” Jimin says in a low voice, hanging his head down in anger. You can sense it, the slightest quiver in his consonants when he speaks, and how his breathing is a little bit ragged.

“I just never thought I’d see them again. I missed my mom, even if she seems cold now, she wasn’t always like that.”

“Yoongi…?” Before you can say anything else his lips are on yours, the warmth from his body heating yours. You felt a familiar fire in your core as he pulled away, clearly his mind wandering as you stare back at him with desire.

“Okay guys, that’s enough. Your families are in there, and they know about us. So, how about we just walk back in there and face them once and for all? I’m tired of running. Now that your dad knows, maybe he’ll come to understand you better.” Jimin sounds a bit annoyed, since you and Yoongi managed to change the mood so easily again.

“Let’s do this.”

༻• At Home •༺

“The three of you are dating?”

“Yes sir.”

“How long have you been seeing my daughter?”

“About six months, sir.”

“Have you forced my daughter into doing drugs, sexual activities, or exposing herself to fulfil your pervy desires?” Your boyfriends shake their heads as your father finishes interrogating them. “Alright, you’re free to go. Y/N, come here. I want to talk to you in private,”

You sit down beside your father, anxiety sky-high as you anticipate his every movement, analyzing his body language to think about what he might say next. Will he send you to Russia for college? Or maybe he will force you to marry that 12 year old who was too busy staring at your boobs to notice that it was well past his bedtime.

Maybe he might just kick you out like Yoongi’s parents did with him. The worst-case scenarios pop into your head as you bite your nails and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. “As you know, I am very disappointed in you. However, I am glad you managed to find love on your own.”

“So you’re not mad?” You’re surprised by his tender reply, and how it almost seemed heartfelt, like he was recalling a pleasant memory. His eyes are filled with that mellow look you’ve only seen on Jimin when he gazes at Yoongi.

“No. Actually, I’m relieved. I never thought you’d find love on your own, that’s why I went through the trouble of arranging your love life for you. I’m your father first before anything else. This is just how things roll in our family. I’m sorry if you ever thought I was taking things away from you, I just want you to succeed and the only way I know how is pushing your limits.”

You’re surprised by his reply. You guess you did overexaggerate things just a smidge. Of course, some things are too good to be true but you wanted to believe that your father was a good guy, so you hugged it out and then went straight to bed.

Joined by Jimin and Yoongi in the middle of the night, the three of you cuddle until you’re warm again and you doze off to see a brighter tomorrow. Hopefully, you won’t have to face Yoongi’s family again.

“Morning dear, guess what? Pelard U sent you a new student pamphlet, isn’t that exciting?” Your mother is cheerful as always, handing you the envelope as you stretch your arms out.

“Sorry mom, I’m just having that weird tummy ache again,” You rest your hands on your belly as your mother glances at you strangely. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She quickly makes her way beside you, pretending to grab a fruit from the bowl in front of you as you rest your elbow on the counter.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that you’ve felt nauseated every day since last week? Maybe it’s time you took an at-home test. You know, just in case you might be-”

“Mom, no. I’m not pregnant, okay. I’d know if I was, like how you knew you were pregnant with me 18 years ago.” You yawn in between your sentence, deciding on stretching alongside the barstool at your kitchen island for support.

“Listen to me, the only way I knew is when I took this home test. Before getting a real test from the drug store, I did this test and then it came out positive. It’s the second-most accurate test in the world! If you are pregnant, you know I would support you, right? I don’t know much about your father though-”

“Mom, stop talking. Someone might hear you and ask us what we’re talking about. Drop it, I’m hungry. Maybe it’s just gas or period cramps.” You cut her off before she can say any more. You hated hearing her stories because it sounds so similar to how you, Jimin, and Yoongi are at the moment. There was a time when your parents were just a happy couple, carefree of the world around them. You know you’ll end up like them too someday, hopefully not disowning your daughter over something as petty as having multiple boyfriends at the same time (with their consent of course) unless she is cheating on a boyfriend she is supposed to have a closed relationship with. Or in case one of your daughters or sons confessed that they had a different sexual orientation than “straight.” Even now, you have a problem with assuming everyone you meet is straight, it’s hard when society forces heteronormativity on you.

You’ve only ever looked at men that way. Not because of what society tells you, but more of what your heart does. You’ve only ever had crushes on boys, felt attracted to boys, and chased after boys because of how you are. You know what you are, and no one can tell you otherwise.

“Hey guys I’m going out to the store today. Anyone want anything?” Your new black-haired boyfriend makes an appearance in his striking purple sweater and equally dazzling shoes. He looks like a highschooler, but a million times cooler than any of the boys you know. It’s only a bonus for you since your boyfriend puts as much effort into his looks as you take the effort to look good for him. It’s an equivalent exchange, you feel like you’re the best looking couple in the whole wide world.

“Y/N has the list. Stay safe, kids.” Your mom ushers you away as you grab Jimin’s pinkie and intertwine your fingers.

All you needed was Yoongi in between you and you’d be golden. Right now Yoongi was working a shift at Jin’s, since he said he was earning extra money for you anyways. You decided it would be a good time to set up the new equipment in Yoongi’s room, but you didn’t want to mess anything up so you turned to Jimin for help.

In return, you would have to help him buy groceries. That’s why you were at the store now, picking a pack of sausages and loading bacon into your cart. Jimin purses his plush pink lips as he runs his delicate fingers over his gelled hair. You see a guy checking him out from the corner of your left eye, paying him no mind as you loop your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder like you always do. The public display of affection has the guy walking away immediately, seeing how bold you were in claiming your man so easily.

Speaking of, you were feeling more risky today so you turned to Jimin to help you explore your fantasies, since he was the center of nearly all of them anyways. (Excluding Yoongi, because the list would be endless if you included both of them)

“Next, we need car parts.” This is the most empty, deserted section of the store. You had no clue why Jimin needed to come here but you don’t question a thing when he pulls you in for a quick hug.

“What are we doing here? I don’t remember anything about car parts on the list.” Jimin smirks as you question him, his fingers playing with the belt loops on your shorts. Today your outfit was more summer-y, so Jimin wanted to take advantage of that.

“We’re not getting car parts. Wasn’t this on your bucket list?” It was. How did he know that?

“How do you-”

“-know that? Simple, I read your diary. I was bored, and I wanted to see what was going on in that beautiful mind of yours. So I read it, big whoop. Don’t worry, I’m just gonna fuck you here in the back of the store where no one can see us. There are no cameras around, and I’m sure no one is gonna come to this aisle either so just relax, baby.” A tight knot forms in your belly as he pulls down your shorts skillfully, pushing your panties down at the same time and revealing your plump ass to the world. Luckily there’s no one here to witness this.

“So wet for me already, I bet I don’t even have to prep you, I can just slide on in.” You let out a mewl as his cock makes contact with your ass, a pleasurable sensation between your cheeks alerting you that he was indeed slipping in. You feel a slight ache from the stretch, but as far as you’re concerned, that’s normal.

“Jimin, I’m so close.”

Thoughts of your conversation with your mother in the kitchen suddenly invade your mind, your orgasm disappearing as Jimin cums in your ass. You watch as his cockhead leaves behind white globs of baby juice, the same cum that probably did impregnate you. The possibility of having Jimin’s babies didn’t terrify you; it was actually comforting. What you were really scared about is what you would do in case you actually were pregnant. A baby isn’t a milkshake, or a coconut, or something to joke around about. Having a baby for a woman means the end of her freedom. That’s what you know from seeing your mother, and how sad she was that she got pregnant and started living for her child. You would have to repeat that process eventually as well, the thought occurs to you as Jimin smears his remaining cum around your cheeks and then pulls your panties and shorts back up like nothing happened.

“What happened? You normally cum so fast. It’s like the switch turned off.” Poor Jimin is left perplexed as he awaits an explanation as to what the hell just happened to you while you were in the middle of something you’ve always wanted to do.

You don’t know how to tell him. How do you tell someone you love that you think you’re pregnant with their baby?

You love Jimin, but was he ready to hear this?

“I think I should tell you when we get home. Come on, let’s check out.” He stops you as you start pushing the cart towards the next aisle, grabbing your arm firmly with a pout on his lips as you blankly look up at him.

“There’s no one here. You can tell me anything, I’m your boyfriend.” You knew he was too stubborn to let go of things here, so you decided to give up, for the sake of your sanity. He would drive you crazy if you didn’t spill the beans.

“You wanna know? This morning I felt sick again. I’ve been feeling this way every single day for the past week and I’ve opened my mind up to the possibility of being pregnant. It’s not a certainty, I haven’t taken a test yet, but I feel like there’s a reason why I feel nauseated every morning. And it’s not just bad burritos.” You giggle as Jimin pulls you into an embrace, reacting exactly as you hoped.

“Thank you for telling me. Just for that, I’m gonna buy three pregnancy tests from here so you can see your result and confirm or deny it. Easy as that, right?” You grab his arm, burying your face in his arm out of embarrassment as people passing by glance at your direction. Maybe you didn’t want to know and leave it up to fate? Then again you’ve heard horror stories about people giving birth in bathtubs and passing away from blood loss. On second thought, you didn’t want to think about having babies until you were at least 25.

“Is it your first kid?” The cashier is an old woman, she looks between you and Jimin as she scans the items one after another.

“Mmm, yeah.” She hands you the bags as you mutter a “thank you” to her and she quickly shrieks good luck at Jimin.

Both of you return the car, your head pounding more than usual. Today, your body just wasn't having it. You were also sweaty and sticky all over from your little rendezvous in the back of the store. You can’t believe you actually bent over and let Jimin do whatever he wanted for five minutes. He finished so fast you didn’t even have time to say “What the hell?” You don’t blame him, he was a little bit stressed when you went out for dinner only to find out that your dad unknowingly invited Yoongi’s rude family and you exposed your relationship with the two of them all in the span of one night.

You were expecting more, though. A rough, thorough fucking was needed in order to restore the peace. Jimin isn’t the type of guy to crawl between your legs and take you any time, even if he says he would, he’s acting out in the only way he knows how.

Way back when you first met, Jimin never had an off-day. Now you know that he probably took that frustration out on something—or rather someone else when he was stressed. You’ve never had that problem, since you were a Virgin up until Jimin ruined you with his perfect mushroom tip. The point is, once you do the deed, you can’t go back.

You craved sex, it has become a natural part of your relationship with Jimin and Yoongi. When their dicks aren’t buried inside of you, you’re using a sex toy Jimin bought for you to use as “training.” You’re sure Jimin feels the same way, even though he could just as easily rub one out, you wanted to take it into your own hands.

But first, you needed to surprise Yoongi. Jimin retrieves the boxcutter while you work on detangling wires in the back without unplugging them. You don’t want to make the mistake of accidentally deleting one of his songs, that plot is overused. Instead, you’re careful and with Jimin’s help, you finally attach the foam boards to the wall and fix up the high quality mic, which adds more of a professional look to Yoongi’s setup. With the last few touches, you’ve finished decorating Yoongi’s makeshift recording studio in the corner of the room.

“Done in a record of 30 minutes. Go us.” He gives you a high-five before belly flopping down into his bed.

“How long did it take for you to set up whatever was here?” You ask out of curiosity. It was unlike Jimin to procrastinate, but you know he also gets the day-to-day dose of fatigue like anyone else. Your boyfriend did a lot more things outside of work than anyone else you know. You’re glad he helped you set up Yoongi’s surprise anyways.

“I don’t know, maybe a month? Me and Yoongi were really lazy with unpacking since we’re used to moving around a lot. We got kicked out of our old apartment because the landlord found out we were a gay couple. She thought we were just friends but then when I explained it to her, she just pointed her index finger at the door and told us to get out.” You hated this behavior. No one should be discriminated against over something like that either. As long as it doesn’t concern them, people shouldn’t stick their noses into others’ business.

“I’m sorry Jiminie. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you’re good. I might’ve stretched the truth a little. You see, we didn’t get kicked out because the landlord was homophobic, we got kicked out because Yoongi got a little too wild with his music and pissed off the neighbors. We had noise complaints every night! Ah, our lives were so different at 20.”

“Aren’t you 23?” You fold your arms, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as Jimin shushes you with his own. Right as your lips touch, the door flings open and in comes your other boyfriend. “Surprise!” You pull away from Jimin as Yoongi blankly fixates his gaze on you.

“Y/N, we need to talk. You too, Jimin. You need to hear this. Your mom just told me about the early morning sickness. Is it true? Are you really pregnant?” You bite your lip and swallow your spit as Yoongi is upfront about the whole thing.

“I don’t know. That’s why when we went to the store, we brought back a couple of things. All on Jimin’s behalf, of course, but it’s still nerve-racking to actually worry about this.” You were sure to use condoms and even snuck a couple of your friends’ birth control pills regularly during school. Now that you’ve graduated, you weren’t taking them regularly so it was only natural your body would react the way it is now. Maybe you were pregnant, even though you haven’t had penis in vagina sex in a little over a week. You hated it, the empty feeling. You haven’t even gone bare yet and you’re certain that Jimin and Yoongi have most definitely jizzed over each other. There’s no way they could look at each other with so much love in their eyes as they do if they haven’t done the most they possibly could in their relationship. If anything, they deserve to get married. You’d be happy with being their side chick since that’s what you were in the beginning anyways.

That’s also how your friendship with Jasmine and Jungkook came to an end. You were basically just a side chick to Jungkook, while Jasmine was the leading lady in that story. You’re so glad Yoongi blocked Jungkook the way he did, or else you’d still be trapped in that toxic relationship. You were also uncomfortable around him ever since he spread those horrible rumors about you around school. You’re sure Jasmine put him up to it.

You didn’t want to think about them, your current situation revolves around two men who love you equally. The three of you are partners and you do things together. Especially now since you’re worried about the possibility of being pregnant.

“Jimin and I will be here every step of the way. No matter what you decide, we’ll be here for you, always and forever, cream puff.” Yoongi smirks as you leer at him in confusion, since he gave you such a strange nickname out of nowhere.

“She kinda is like a cream puff. All flaky and tasty on the outside, while being filled with even sweeter goo on the inside.” Jimin makes it sound gross as you giggle into their shoulders, as they trap you in a group hug.

“I’m gonna go take the test now, Jimin why don’t you guide Yoongi through the new setup? It’s something I wanted to do for you, to show you my appreciation for you taking on the role of my boyfriend and mentor. You’re the best, Yoongi, and I’m sorry if I ever make you feel any less than perfect.” He rushes over to your side and before you can process what’s happening, Yoongi’s lips melded against yours, like he was made for you, you felt a cold shiver go down your spine and butterflies in your tummy. This man still gave you butterflies, even after six months of dating.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” You grin like an idiot as Jimin pushes you towards the direction of the bathroom down the hall, separating you from Yoongi as you act like teenagers in love for the first time.

“I love you too, Yoongles.”

So you found out that you weren’t pregnant, it was a big relief but also a bit of a disappointment. You ended up getting your period soon after, a big bright red zit on your forehead appearing to top it all off. It was like icing on the cake, since your boyfriends cheered you up saying there is no way they could be good fathers to the child you were supposedly carrying in your womb. In your heart, you wanted to have kids with them. Every fibre of your being was telling you that these were the ones. Your body was never wrong. Except for crushing on Jungkook.

“I finally got in touch with my family. My parents are still mad at me for running off but they were actually pretty cool with the fact that I was bi. Apparently 2 days after I left, my older brother came out as gay and they learned to accept him because it was a lot different than they thought it was. And my older brother is the most manly man there is. I didn’t know, because I don’t keep in touch with them but after I found out, I got his number and I started texting him again. I told him about you, because I want him to warm up to the idea of us being in a relationship. Right now, he just thinks you’re my best friend and that I’m still dating Yoongi alone.” Yoongi kisses his cheek affectionately before turning to you for a kiss.

“This is the most amazing gift anyone has gotten for me. Thanks, baby. To commemorate, I’m gonna eat you out like you’ve never felt before.” You gasp as he leaves a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, shoving your shorts down and pushing the seams of your panties aside so he could force his way into your entrance with his digits.

“Guys, really? You know your father is just a room over, right Y/N?” You let out a small whine, covering your mouth with one hand while propping yourself up with another as Yoongi licks down your exposed clit and a slurping noise resounds as he continues the motion, making your legs tense up from the pleasure.

“I know, but that’s what makes it even more exciting. The thrill of knowing I can get caught any minute, like when we were in the store earlier.” You grin as Jimin rubs his neck uncomfortably, he looks like he has something on his mind but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood so he stays quiet. Yoongi slides his fingers in effortlessly before kissing your clit so gently, you can feel the individual crevices in his lips as he moves his tongue up and down.

Jimin lets out a deep breath before crawling over to your side to kiss you, so that you could moan freely into his lips as Yoongi eats you out like a starved man. You could feel your clit hardening, an embarrassing thing that happened to you often when you were in the presence of your boyfriends. A lady-boner, is what you would refer to it as. Yoongi thought it was adorable, as did Jimin. Neither of the boys held it against you because it was a sure sign that you were equally as attracted to them. You wanted to bury your face in a pillow and shy away from them, as they were better suited for each other and you were the odd one out. Right now, it would be awkward to try and run as Yoongi’s tongue is quite literally up your pussy.*[¹]

As if sensing your thoughts, Jimin kisses your neck gently and then crawls behind you. He holds you in place, watching Yoongi as he continues lapping at your folds meticulously. Your mouth hangs wide open as you try to hold in another moan, Yoongi pushing you dangerously close to your breaking point as he so gorgeously sucks your clit at an expert level. The knot in your belly is only growing bigger, making you feel congested and awful. You were sticky and sweat clung to your body all over, yet your boyfriends were still determined to pleasure you. It reminded you a bit of your romantic getaway during spring break. It feels like it happened months ago when you just recently went on that trip. No amount of time could ever be enough for you to spend with your sweethearts.

“Cum, don’t be shy. You’ve been such a good girl for us today, kit.” Jimin whispers, making you turn a bright red as you push out whatever juices you were holding in. You felt so good, it was as if you just peed after holding it in for a long time. Of course, you didn’t actually pee on him. That would be nasty. Yoongi lies next to you, opting to kiss your forehead since he had post cunnillingus breath.

“Jimin, let me help you too. I haven’t done any work yet.” You close your eyes and you part your lips as Jimin’s rock-hard dick springs to life in front of you, making you growl as he teasingly taps it on the corners of your lips before pushing his cock between your swollen dry, cracked lips. Luckily the precum leaking from his tip solves the issue of your dry lips, since the semen stays moist and wet even as you continue sucking his cock. A bit of cum gets on your cheek and chin but you don’t mind, as long as it’s Jimin’s cum that’s painting your face a cream white.

He giggles, taking a picture of you with his phone before sending it to your group chat. Yoongi, who was lying beside you, decides to join in on the fun, being petty before settling for fingering Jimin and you at the same time. You didn’t expect his fingers to work so diligently, as he did briefly do that with you before but now he was fingering you like he does with his keyboard. He was moving as if he was playing keys on a piano that only existed on your genitals. You and Jimin loved the feeling of it, eventually Jimin cumming in your mouth and cheeks as you came on Yoongi’s fingers. Then, he pushed your cum back into you, motioning Jimin to get in front of you.

You marvel at how they switch places so quickly, suddenly Jimin’s tousled black hair shining as the dim lamp lighting hits it just right, and Yoongi’s face is a lot closer, so you could make out all of his well-defined features. One thing is certain; you’ll never get tired of staring at each of them. Yoongi follows your gaze, smirking as he catches your wandering eyes, and how you look at his dick in need. He easily swings his body forward so that his cock was just about stabbing you in the chin. You’re not gonna lie, no matter how many times you’ve had sex with these men, you do feel the slightest bit uncomfortable with Yoongi using your boobs as cushions. Yet, at the same time, you loved when he rubbed his nose between them, and slept on them, and just about anything else that people might find stupid and insignificant because that’s how you are.

“Yoongz, you’re slightly blocking my boobs….Getting hard to breathe.” You blink rapidly after he gets off you, now standing up and groaning as Jimin has buried his head in his ass. You sit up slightly, letting out a mewl as Jimin slides his cock so slickly inside of you.

“I love you both, so much.” You snuggle next to him as Jimin brings a damp washcloth to wipe you both down with. You closed your eyes after protesting him a good number of times, finally falling asleep in the arms of your coffee-making angels.

The next day, you wake up feeling sore. What’s new, it’s the usual soreness you feel from after “working out” with your boyfriends on select days of the week and weekends. With your father in the house, it’s much harder to carry out your more intimate activities.

You immediately panic, thinking that it was a school day, but then your worries subside when you see the date on your digital alarm clock. It was summer now, since school was officially out and you would be moving into your dorm at Pelard U soon as well.

That means you had exactly one summer to start working part time and also spend every ounce of freedom with your boyfriends without the parents interfering with your plans. You knew what you had to do, to make sure this thing with Jimin and Yoongi was set in stone.

Later that day, you stop by the country club. The only one in town, at that. You knew an associate that worked here, luckily from getting a contact at the party you snuck out to. It was a wonder you didn’t get caught by your parents, but you still had anxiety about them discovering that as well. Then again, with your father’s unpredictable behavior, who knows how they’d react? Maybe your father would give you $20 and a pat on the back.

You managed to track down Freddy, the same guy who said he was working at this fancy place since his parents were owners of the corporation, and he quickly got you a slot for a job interview on the same day. You came prepared, with your diploma from school, your credit information, and your ID. You were also wearing a pencil skirt with a top and a matching blazer. You opted to go with a classy school girl outfit, but it was professional wear, not casual.

“What made you want to apply at Cheeve’s Country Club in the first place?” The manager, a well mannered, rounded blond stands up from his seat, his hair slicked back with gel like he was an actor on a Disney show from 2011. His plastic blue name tag reads “David” as he leans forward while interrogating you. At least, that’s what it feels like, since he decided to shut the blinds and point the lamp directly at your face, completely neglecting the purpose of closing the blinds in the first place. Instead of blocking all the light out of the room, he’s directing it at your face. All you can do is smile through the pain.

“I heard about this place from a friend. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to work here just so I can get a taste of what life will be like once I marry my boyfriend.” You weren’t lying, you had a feeling with yours, Yoongi’s, and Jimin’s combined accounts, you could possibly rake in millions per year, especially with Yoongi’s musical abilities. He just needs to get discovered now.

“I know types like you. People who waltz in here pretending like they’re gonna own the joint someday. Let me break it to ya sister: Never gonna happen. Not unless you’re marrying a millionaire or unless you have a sugar daddy. But I doubt you have the abilities to get either of those so I’ll have to ask you one last question: When a customer asks you if they pay with Credit or gold bars, what do you answer with?”

“Gold bars?”

You end up going home with a new name tag and uniform. It’s a fancy tennis skirt and a plain blue tee with the place’s name and logo on the back. You hang the uniform up in your room before heading downstairs to have a sit-down chat with your parents. You’re pretty sure they are going to talk to you about something a lot more serious, considering that you are living with your boyfriends under the same roof.

“Sweetie, we wanted to talk to you about your decision. We accepted that you’re dating both of them, but who will you choose in the long run? They’re both suitable partners and I’m sure you’ll want to marry one of them eventually so just let us know now.” Your father is completely serious, not a hint of sarcasm in his eyes. Your mother is silent as a mouse beside him, no traces of laughter in her eyes either.

“What? You guys can’t be serious. You know I’m in this either all or nothing. I have them both now and it will remain that way. You have no right to force me to choose. Especially when there was never a choice in the first place, I am choosing both of them.” Normally you had trouble even looking your father in the eye and telling him what you want, but this time you were more than confident enough to be able to stand up for your men without hesitating.

“A time will come when they stand in front of you, demanding for you to choose. What will you say then? If they don’t agree with you, then what is your alternative plan?” You had never dared to even imagine what the hell your life would be like with only one man. Yes, sure at first you had a little crush on Jimin, but after getting to know Yoongi, you grew fond of them both, equally. You know after being with them for this long, you would want nothing more than to continue growing and being like this with them both.

“It won’t happen. I know you’re worried but mom looks like she’s been holding something in. What do you want to say, mom?” You ask, sitting down on the armrest of the loveseat parked awkwardly in the corner of the room as your mother clears her throat with a fake cough.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think it’s best if the boys move out of here. Just until you go to college, having you three in the same house is a bad idea.” You can already tell by the tone of her voice that your father put her up to this.

“I agree with your mother. You three are young and full of hormones. I can’t trust that none of you would act on them. Besides, those two have been together for a very long time. I’m sure they want to get to know you as well as they know each other, intimately, but just remember; no sex before marriage.”

You blush a bright red before murmuring a “dad,” and being ushered to the kitchen by your mother. She immediately pulls you aside after letting go of a breath, whispering in your ear with that urgency in her voice that you sensed when she asked you if you were pregnant.

“Remember, go along with everything he says. You know how your dad gets when you say no to him. Please get along, for my sake. He’s been driving me crazy these past few days because you were dating two boys who he presumed were gay. Now he looks at them like enemies, just try and understand him, even just a little.”

“Sure. I’ll try. I don’t like that my own dad is forcing me to pick my relationship, like it’s a choose your own story visual novel. It’s not a game, mom. This is real life, and my boyfriends are real people with real feelings. What’s wrong with him? Why does he think he can just walk all over me because we’re related by blood? It’s so pathetic, just because he’s unhappy doesn’t mean he has to make others miserable. No offence, mom.” You knew talking about your parents’ broken marriage was a touchy subject for your mother. She still smiled through the pain, somehow.

Your mother is a strong woman, she knows what she wants, most of the time. She gave up her entire life after marrying your father and having you, more focused on playing the part of homemaker and raising you. It wasn’t until recently, about 4 years ago to be exact, that she became a full-time nurse at the hospital. She takes odd hours and still makes time for you. You couldn’t ask for a better mother.

Your father however, was not happy about this. Ever since he got home he’s been making your mother toil and cook for him, forcing her to take days off just so she could wait on him, and just being downright awful to the woman who keeps this house together. You were surprised your mother hadn’t pointed out his behaviour yet. Then again, she always says, “That’s how it’s always been, ever since I married your father, after three months I knew I made a mistake.” Whenever you asked her about it, she would put on a fake smile and pretend she was okay, but you knew she was slowly dying on the inside. You talked to her about divorce multiple times but she insisted she would be right by your father’s side till the day death did them part. Yes, she is that kind of a woman. Your father doesn’t deserve her.

“None taken, just don’t bring it up in front of your father again unless he asks. Don’t tell him no, but don’t say yes either.”

“Um, okay?” You turn to go back upstairs to your room but you find Yoongi and Jimin at the foot of the staircase, frowns stiff on their faces as they hold heavy bags in either of their hands. “What are you guys doing? And why are you carrying those giant duffel bags?” Yoongi sighs, nodding at Jimin to go ahead and explain to you while he takes the giant backpack from his back and slings it around one shoulder before walking forward to load the car. “We didn’t want to tell you but now things have gotten to the point of no return.” You scratch your head. You weren’t sure if you heard him right, but Jimin was never the type to joke without giggling at least a little. He’s completely serious.

“Where are you going, Jimin?” You fold your arms, blocking his path as he sighs and pulls you in for a dramatic dip-kiss. After pulling you out of your daze you furl your brows. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”

“My brother just called. He said my parents want me and Yoongi to spend the week over there. He said they’re warming up to the fact that we’re a couple, and we can’t freak them out too much. So, we’re going down there. Thanks for being the best, Y/N. We love you, a lot. We’ll be back soon, alright?” You nod, gulping as he pulls you towards the car so you could see Yoongi off too.

“Goodbye, kitten. We’ll be back before you know it.” You close your eyes and kiss him sweetly before they drive off into the distance. You can’t believe it. Now, you’re truly alone.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

End notes:

[¹] It was a joke: Like ‘cat got your tongue?’ except in this case Yoongi shoved his tongue up the main oc’s pussy, like the word, cat? I know the jokes are horrendous but at least I’m trying to make something out of it.

For Reference, I was imagining Jimin like this (but his hair is bluer):

#jimin x reader #jimin x yoongi #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader x yoongi #yoonmin #poly #barista #bts poly #smut #throuple #coffeeshop #bts ff #yoongi ff #hyunglinenetwork #bts #18+

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5typesoftrash · 3 years

Text

warning: this is going to be a long post. transphobia and bigotry under the cut

I am posting this rebuttal of a person who got (hilariously) angry at someone who Does Not Care (me) and wrote an entire-ass essay on this post because apparently this is how I spend my time. Defending my identity which does not need to be defended because it is immutable from transphobic trolls who won’t even see it cause they’re blocked from this account.

Anyway. Be careful looking under the cut.

TERFs, gender-crits, radical feminists, transmeds, nb-exclus, anti-mogai, and anyone else whose ideology promotes transphobia and/or trans erasure, please kindly do not fucking touch this post. I am not kidding when I say that I will report you all to tumblr for hate speech if it takes me all fucking night.

Image Description

Two screenshots of a reblog from tumblr user homosexual-means-gay. The post reads:

please tell me how literally every single gay man being repulsed by ppl with vaginas hurts you! tell us why it’s a problem gay ppl aren’t attracted to the opposite sex like straight and bi ppl are!

homosexuality isn’t a political movement it’s a regular natural innate sexuality. gay men aren’t attracted to biological females and it hurts gay ppl when you side with conversion therapists and it hurts bisexual ppl who actually are attracted to both sexes when you erase them for your homophobic agenda. you’re not a victim. you’re happy to eliminate homosexuality from existence as long as you’re able to reinforce heteronormative gender roles the gay community has always opposed. your bigotry harms trans homosexuals too, not that you transhets care about the gay trans ppl either.

erased from history? you want gay ppl correctively raped out of existence bc you love socially constructed gender roles more than human rights. you deserve all the hate you put out into the world. im sorry our innate orientation and culture prove how flimsy and useless the gender roles you define yourself by are, but homophobia will not improve your self esteem. you’re driving away ppl who would be happy to support your made up identity by attacking how we were born same sex attracted. sorry you can’t relate bc you’re straight. sorry you think you can use your privilege against us. but it’s not something we’re doing to you. it’s not something we can change and it’s not something we want to change. there’s never been a gay man in existence who likes pussy, not even the gay trans women like marsha p johnson and sylvia rivera. you’re a sad little straight girl alienating all potential allies.

hurting us doesn’t validate you. it doesn’t hurt you that no gay man will ever like pussy.

End ID

(If someone wants to do a better ID that’s fine, I just wanted to put everyone on an equal playing field when it comes to understanding the content of this post.)

I’m going to go line-by-line and refute every single bullshit thing this person said.

> please tell me how literally every single gay man being repulsed by ppl with vaginas hurts you!

factoid actually just statistical error. TERF Tommy, who has committed multiple transphobic hate crimes, is an outlier and should not have been counted. I know many cis gay men who are attracted to trans men because they are MEN, not because of the genitalia they have. And I know you want to say ‘that makes them bi’, but no, it doesn’t. You want to accuse me of homophobia? Telling another gay person that their identity is invalid just because they express it in a different way than you do is literal homophobia.

> tell us why it’s a problem gay ppl aren’t attracted to the opposite sex like straight and bi ppl are!

because... some are? And you don’t speak for the entire gay community? Especially not the other side of it, for the opposite binary gender than yours.

> homosexuality isn’t a political movement it’s a regular natural innate sexuality.

and transness isn’t a political movement either, it is a regular natural and innate gender identity. You know that gender identity is inherent, right? When people say ‘gender is a social construct’ all that means is that it is not a natural thing. Humans created the concept of gender and assigned value to it based on what we could perceive as a means of giving order to the world around us. That doesn’t mean that it isn’t important and it doesn’t mean that there aren’t parts of it that are inherent to individuals.

> gay men aren’t attracted to biological females and it hurts gay ppl when you side with conversion therapists and it hurts bisexual ppl who actually are attracted to both sexes when you erase them for your homophobic agenda.

I’m sorry this is literally incoherent. To reiterate: some gay men ARE attracted to assigned females. Yes, siding with conversion therapists hurts gay people. No, I am not siding with conversion therapists. I have never once stated -- in fact, the entire point of my post was the opposite of this -- that anyone should EVER have sexual interactions with a person they don’t want to. Even if the reason for that is because they have a genital preference, which is NOT the same thing as a sexuality.

(I know I’ve been over this before but here it is again. A sexuality is a measure of what GENDER/S you want to have sex with. A genital preference is a measure of what genitalia you are willing to get all up close and personal with. Both are innate, one can be manipulated. They are not the same thing.)

Hurting bisexual people... hey, fellow bis, am I hurting you by *checks notes* existing in time and space?

> you’re not a victim. you’re happy to eliminate homosexuality from existence as long as you’re able to reinforce heteronormative gender roles the gay community has always opposed.

I am literally A GAY PERSON. Even by YOUR MEASURE I am a victim. And I do NOT want to eliminate homosexuality, I just want people to acknowledge that language evolves and definitions can change as our society does. Also, have you ever met a trans person in real life? Because like 80% of all the trans people I’ve ever known have been gender non-conforming, so like. That invalidates that point. The trans community opposes gender roles as well.

> your bigotry harms trans homosexuals too, not that you transhets care about the gay trans ppl either.

Please point to where it says I’m straight. Please. I want to see it.

> erased from history? you want gay ppl correctively raped out of existence bc you love socially constructed gender roles more than human rights.

At this point I’m just repeating myself. Please see the above points for rebuttal.

> you deserve all the hate you put out into the world. im sorry our innate orientation and culture prove how flimsy and useless the gender roles you define yourself by are, but homophobia will not improve your self esteem.

Says the person berating a minor for *flips notecard over* agreeing with them that people shouldn’t be forced into sex. I’m sorry that you’re so hurt and angry that you have to push your pain onto other people just to feel better. I genuinely am. It makes me so sad to see how much some people are hurting. But I won’t just sit and take this kind of verbal abuse. I don’t deserve it, quite frankly.

> you’re driving away ppl who would be happy to support your made up identity by attacking how we were born same sex attracted.

I doubt anyone calling it a made-up identity wants to actually support me. Next.

> sorry you can’t relate bc you’re straight. sorry you think you can use your privilege against us. but it’s not something we’re doing to you. it’s not something we can change and it’s not something we want to change.

Again. I am not straight. I do not have any straight privilege to use against anyone. Even if I was cis I still wouldn’t be straight because I’m aroace and attracted to anyone and everyone. My gender identity isn’t something that I can change, either. And even if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t want to. I love being a man, and I love being a trans man.

> there’s never been a gay man in existence who likes pussy, not even the gay trans women like marsha p johnson and sylvia rivera.

I’m sorry, WHAT. Marsha P Johnson and Sylvia Rivera can’t be both gay men and trans lesbians. Which one are they? You gotta pick, babe.

> you’re a sad little straight girl alienating all potential allies. hurting us doesn’t validate you. it doesn’t hurt you that no gay man will ever like pussy.

So am I a transhet or am I a straight girl? Also I’m not sad, I’m quite happy with where I’m at in my life. I do not feel validated by hurting anyone, because I don’t enjoy pain. I’m not masochistic or emotionless, I am in fact hyperempathetic due to my autism, and I don’t like it when anyone is hurt. This can be evidenced by this post here where I wish well upon a group of people who have directly hatecrimed me in the past.

I will repeat that. I have literal trauma from physical violence as a result of the actions of this group of people, and I am still wishing them good things.

Nor does it hurt me that ‘no gay man will ever like [AFAB genitalia]’ because this isn’t even a true statement. As I have mentioned previously, I know personally multiple gay men who are attracted to trans men. And reader, please note the fact that this person uses a slang term, a deliberately vulgar one, where in my original post I used the medical term ‘vagina’.

Hope this clears some things up.

TERFs, gender-crits, radical feminists, transmeds, nb-exclus, anti-mogai, and anyone else whose ideology promotes transphobia and/or trans erasure, please kindly STILL do not clown on this post. I am once again not kidding when I say that I will report you all to tumblr for hate speech if it takes me all fucking night.

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cryptidshuffle · 3 years

Text

the less we say about it the better - chp 1

ao3

Rating: Teen Fandom: Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware Relationships: Tommy Coolatta & Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman (pre relationship) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death(its benrey dont worry hes ok), meta about deaths and respawns, arguing about the rules of uno, gay pining, Mutual Pining, fellas is it gay to comfort ur friend who u love and are both boys?, also fair warning it'll eventually be a poly ship with benrey, Autistic Character, Autistic Tommy, ADHD Gordon, everyone is gay and trans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: “after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental break downs.” they are trying to recover after black mesa, but recovery is hard. especially when one of you is still dead

---------------

They had been out of Black Mesa for a few weeks now. It was difficult trying to acclimate to life after the incident, but they were all making it work.

The science team had gotten together for some sort of game night, something cathartic about being around others who share the same trauma. Anyways, snacks and Uno was just as chaotic as one would imagine with this group of chucklefucks, with competitive tensions high on the last round of the night.

“You can’t stack the draw 4 cards, Gordon,” Bubby argued, smacking Gordon’s hand just as he placed the card.

“Says who?”

“It’s literally against the fucking rules of the game,” Bubby said back.

Tommy agreed with, “It is in the official rules, Mr. Freeman, they- Mattel confirmed it on Twitter.”

“But that’s dumb!” Gordon argued back, “I’ve always played where you can stack those, why change that now?"

Bubby retorted, “Well maybe you’ve always been playing wrong, huh? Ever thought about that, smartass?”

Dr. Coomer chimed in with, “Well on the official page for Uno (card game) on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, it states that

The following official house rules are suggested in the Uno rulebook, to alter the game:

Progressive Uno: If a draw card is played, and the following player has the same card, they can play that card and "stack" the penalty, which adds to the current penalty and passes it to the following player.[4](Although a +4 cannot be stacked on a +2, or vice versa.)[6] This house rule is so commonly used that there was widespread Twitter surprise in 2019 when Mattel stated that stacking was not part of the standard rules of Uno.[6]”

“Well, there you have it,” Gordon exclaims, interrupting Coomer’s Wikipedia infodump, “Just because it’s a house rule doesn’t mean it’s not a legitimate way of playing."

“What if I don’t want to play with that rule, that’s fuckin stupid,” Bubby grumbles.

“Jesus ok, I'll play a different card, happy?” Gordon says dejectedly, taking back his controversial draw 4 card for a more innocuous one. “It’s your turn anyways.”

Bubby throws down his last card onto the pile. “I win fuckers!!!! Ahahahahaha!"

“You wouldn’t have won if you let me stack the fucking cards,” Gordon said as he threw his losing card pile onto the coffee table.

“Don’t fret Gordon! Bubby is just extremely good at card games,” Dr. Coomer replied.

“You're forgetting I’m a goddamn genius, that extends to my sick-ass Uno skills,” Bubby bragged.

Gordon chuckled, watching the two older scientists get up to leave, and watching Tommy remain, quietly cleaning up the uno deck into neat piles to place in its box.

“Well gentlemen, it’s been fun, though I think it’s time Bubby and I better get going!” Dr. Coomer said.

“No problem, don’t want you two to be late for your old man early-bird breakfast at Golden Corral tomorrow!” Gordon teased.

“Shut the fuck- I’ll kick your ass,” said Bubby.

“Hello Gord- Actually our old man breakfast is not until Saturday! It’s the one day a week I let loose and unhinge my jaws at the buffet like a Burmese Python!” said Dr. Coomer as Bubby grabs his coat and keys.

“That sounds absolutely horrifying,” Gordon laughs.

“It really is,” says Bubby. “Well, see you later asshole,” Bubby says, herding himself and Coomer out the front door.

“See you guys later,” Gordon says.

“Goodbye, Gordon! Goodbye, Tommy,” Coomer also says, before they leave Gordon’s apartment.

Tommy had yet to get up to leave, he stayed sitting in his seat staring into space, and fiddling with the Uno card deck.

“Hey Tommy, you alright man?” he asked gently. At the mention of his name, he was shaken a bit out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah I'm fine Mr. Freeman, why do you ask?”

“I mean you were kinda just staring into space for a bit, and you didn’t say anything when Bubby and Coomer left.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tommy said, starting to move to leave.

Gordon placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, if something’s bothering you, just know I’m here if you wanna talk about it,” Gordon comforted.

Tommy blushed slightly at the contact and nodded.

“Thank you. I-uh… I’ve just been thinking about things that happened back in Black Mesa and, you know,” he pauses to think for a bit, and sighs, “honestly I’ve been thinking a lot about Benrey.”

Just at the mention of him, Gordon felt his stomach drop with the weight of too many emotions.

“Yeah...I uh… I understand,” he responds with a sad sigh, “anything in particular you’re thinking about him?”

“I don’t know just kind of- Earlier I started thinking about how much he would enjoy game night. And then I started to miss him and realize that- that he’s not here. I feel guilty about killing him and upset at what he did. He was still my friend and I just- I want to know why he did what he did. I just want to understand,” Tommy said.

Gordon looked away as he thought about his own emotions regarding Benrey. He was undeniably angry with him, for getting him ambushed by the bootboys, for getting his arm cut off, frustrated with the constant taunting. Yet… he also felt guilty for some reason and he couldn’t quite place why. Gordon really didn’t want to feel guilty.

“Yeah…” Gordon sighed, “I'll be honest I do feel guilty about it too. I don’t know why because I feel like it should be justified since he did try to kill us. But there were times when him pestering me about my arm felt like… like sincere questioning? I still… I don’t know.”

“Yeah… I think-” Tommy cut himself off, staring at a fixed point in his vision, trying to decide whether or not to bring this up.

“I don’t think Benrey understood how human mortality worked.”

Well, that wasn’t what Gordon expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he was from Xen, Mr. Freeman, he wasn’t human. It was different for him. You remember he did die several times, but he came back eventually. He had to wait for his form to regenerate.”

“Wait-” this time Gordon cut Tommy off, “Oh shit, that wasn’t a joke? For some reason I just assumed his talking about respawns and shit was part of his Epic Gamer bit?”

“I mean it was a little but I think… there’s probably a reason Benrey attached himself to video games so much, yeah? He can see himself in the structure. Like, uh- something he can relate to.” Tommy says. “It doesn’t excuse what- what he did, but I feel like knowing why things happened makes- makes them more understandable.”

Gordon leaned back on the couch blown away by the revelation. In hindsight it wasn’t that surprising but it took him a few seconds to come to terms with the reality.

“Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess it does make a lot of sense. Wait though, I swear to god all of you have died at least once, but you guys aren’t from Xen?” Gordon said, now confused about the seeming metanarrative of the mortality of his friends.

“Yeah, but those were weird Black Mesa things, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, not elaborating any more than that.

Gordon waited a beat for Tommy to explain more but he said all he needed to.

“I will ask you more about that later, but I do not have the energy to unpack all that right now,” Gordon said with a gentle laugh.

“Wait, getting back on topic real quick, why couldn’t Benrey just... respawn now? Did we really get him that good?”

Tommy looked incredibly sad when Gordon said this, and he regretted it immediately. ‘Damn it Gordon, Tommy’s clearly upset about Benrey, you don’t gotta be an insensitive dick.’

“Well Mr. Freeman, that’s kinda why I’ve been thinking about him,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to respawn. Depending on the amount of damage it takes longer but… It’s been a while and what if- What if he is back but he is mad at all of us and that’s why we haven’t seen him? Or what if it is taking a really long time because we hurt him a whole lot. Or what if we…”

Tommy got quiet for a few seconds, the silence in the room was deafening. For an instance Gordon felt as if making a sound would shatter the air like glass.

Tommy finally said with a whisper, voice thick with choking back tears, “What if we killed him for good? And I don’t- I never see him again?”

It honestly broke Gordon’s heart how distraught Tommy was. Pushing his own complicated Benrey feelings aside, he was gonna focus on Tommy here and now.

“…Tommy, is it ok if I hug you, man?” Gordon couldn’t think of the best way to comfort the other man with words, but physical comfort he could do.

Tommy looked a little surprised at this ask but nodded. Gordon leaned in to hug the other scientist and Tommy collapsed in his embrace, completely breaking down.

Gordon just sat there and held him as Tommy sobbed into his shoulder, trying to comfort the crying man by rubbing circles into his back.

Gordon’s brain processed the things Tommy had said. Was Benrey really gone? Why did he feel guilty about the idea of having killed Benrey, he was fine with the concept during the final boss fight on Xen but now… the thought made him feel… sad? Regretful? Even his seemingly rational justifications didn’t seem as clear at the moment, only thinking of his fonder memories with Benrey.

‘Fuck this,’ he thought as he felt his own tears well up, ‘this isn’t about me, I need to focus on being there for Tommy,’ pushing his own feelings to the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough where his sobs turned into sniffles, and he started to pull away from the hug.

“S – sorry for having a – a breakdown on your- on your couch Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, the post-crying mental fog making his stuttering more noticeable. Tommy didn’t really have the effort in him to care.

“Don’t worry about it, man, after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental breakdowns,” Gordon joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Freeman, in terms of mental breakdowns that was as mild as a first-grade pizza party in the eye of a hurricane,” Tommy compared in a way that made little sense to Gordon, yet ridiculous enough to cause the man to burst out laughing.

“Alright I’ll take your word for it,” Gordon said, still laughing.

“I’m serious Mr. Freeman, once you have a meltdown so intense that you accidentally teleport yourself to an inter-dimensional void, the rest is a cake walk at the school fair,” Tommy said.

“Waitwaitwait- teleport?” he leaned back to look at him in surprise, “Since when could you fuckin teleport!” Gordon asked caught off guard.

“You know, learned some things from my Dad,” Tommy said, again failing to further explain himself.

“…Well alright. Yeah that tracks.”

Gordon was quiet for a moment before responding with, “You know, Tommy, I want you to know I’m here for you if you need anyone to talk to. You were there for me when I was at my lowest in Black Mesa, and I wanna be that friend to you if you need it,” he said giving the other scientists hand a comforting squeeze.

Tommy smiled, “Thank you, that means a lot Mr. Freeman.”

“You know you can call me Gordon, you don’t have to be so formal all the time Dr. Coolatta,” he teased.

Tommy blushed, ‘dammit why did he have to be so cute?’

“Wow Mr. Fr – Gordon are you really gonna make fun of my doctorate that I worked very hard for,” Tommy teased back, still a bit sniffly from crying.

“Dude, I cannot imagine you in college for some reason, what was your doctorate even in” asked Gordon, semi-jokingly, but still a bit serious.

Tommy laughed a bit, wiping the remaining tears away with the back of his hand. “Bio-chemical engineering. Creating Sunkist was for my thesis project.” Normally Tommy would be more then willing to infodump about the topic but he found his energy to be draining fast.

“What the fuck, that’s cooler than mine was. Us nerds in the Theoretical Physics department didn’t do any crazy shit like that,” Gordon said.

“Bold of you to assume I was a nerd, G-Gordon. I was the craziest guy in the frat house,” Tommy said.

Gordon’s memory vaguely recalls Tommy’s insistence that he “do something crazy” when drinking Darnold’s Potion of Grow Gun Arm.

“You know what, yeah, surprisingly I can see that image vividly in my head,” Gordon said. “Real talk though…” he said changing the subject and putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Are you- uh, ok? Like feeling better?”

Tommy was quiet for a second, eyes flickering down to look at his fidgeting hands in his lap, before replying with, “I’m ok. N-not great, I don’t think, but I will be.”

Gordon nodded. “Tommy, if there’s one nugget of wisdom that I have to share, it’s that healing takes time, things usually turn out to be ok in the end. No matter what’s going on with Benrey…it'll be alright, I’m sure.” Gordon patted his shoulder for emphasis, “not the best advice out there but it’s the best I can come up with straight off the dome. And I don’t wanna seem like I didn’t try to help you out."

Tommy laughed gently, “Thank you Mr. Fr- uh, thank you Gordon. You did help. Even if- if your advice was a bit cheesy.”

“Whatever man, you can’t blame me for trying,” Gordon laughed, playfully shoving Tommy where his hand had previously rested on the other man’s shoulder. Tommy laughed in return. He only noticed the warmth of Gordon’s touch once it was gone.

Tommy absentmindedly noticed the time on the wall clock in Gordon’s apartment. Jesus, 11:30? When did it get so late? The older scientist really hoped he wasn’t overstaying his welcome; While he would love to just stay here and joke around, he had already bothered Mr. Freeman enough and was already exhausted.

“I- I’m probably gonna head back home now, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Tommy said, standing up from his spot next to Gordon.

Gordon nodded. He had the passing thought of offering for Tommy to stay but… maybe that was a step too far. ‘Tommy probably wants his space,’ Gordon rationalized to himself.

He nodded, “Alright, don’t let me keep you,” he said, getting up as well to help Tommy gather his belongings. Which, to be honest Tommy didn’t bring much but some snacks for the group, but Gordon just needed an excuse to do anything.

Gordon walked Tommy to the front door of his apartment, like the good host he was, opening the door for him.

“Thanks for coming over Tommy,” he said.

Tommy nodded. “Thank- thank you again for letting me talk about Benrey, I know it was kinda rough there at the end, but if you ever need to talk about anything… I'm here for you as well.”

Gordon smiled, “Thank you Tommy, I'll keep that in mind.”

Tommy smiled in return, “Have a good night G-Gordon,” he said turning to head to his car.

“Goodnight Tommy.” Gordon turns to head back inside, but before he does, he can’t resist one more jab.

“Thought you could teleport?” he calls out teasingly.

Tommy flips him off, which causes Gordon to laugh harder. “Gives me a headache,” Tommy called back, trying and failing keep a straight face.

Gordon laughs as he waves a final goodbye, turning back inside and closing the door after Tommy waves as well. His thoughts race as he gets ready for bed, trying to ignore his fluttering heartbeat as he lays down for the night.

Tommy shuffles his thoughts in his head as he drives home. The emotional rollercoaster of his already draining social interaction meter from the science team, his Benrey guilt, and his small crush on Gordon was just too much for one day. His hands clench and unclench the steering wheel, looking forward to collapsing in bed for the night, hoping his dad won’t notice he'd been crying.

Somewhere, in an interdimensional void far away from this reality, someone begins to shift awake.

#fanfic #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #freelatta

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the-queer-look · 3 years

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Queer Limelight

Name: Anton Age: 59 Location: Redfern Occupation: News Presenter Sexual Orientation: Gay Gender: Male

I’ve been a news presenter for the past twenty five years, and I’ve spend just over twenty two with SBS, in the presenters chair since 1999. I identify as a gay man. Of all the labels you could apply to yourself in life that would be the one that most defines who I am. I would describe myself as being quite conventional in the way I present in terms of gender, and fashion forwardness. I don’t think I’m particularly adventurous when it comes to fashion, I like to look smart and presentable, but because there is a public version of me and a private version of me, I tend to keep the two fairly seperate. For professional events, appearances, and broadcasts there is a very specific way that I am required to dress, and it’s quite constrained. When I’m not in that mode, just walking the dog, hanging out with my partner, or doing sports it’s much more dressed down than even just meeting someone like I’m meeting you today where I would want to be along that line of smart and comfortable. In terms of presenting gender wise I present as very male. I come from a generation of gay men where there was a very strong divide between flamboyant men, and masculine men, and no one wanted to be the flamboyant man who was easily identified as gay – It was a time when you wouldn’t want to be easily recognised as gay, luckily times have changed, but I still feel that that sense of who I am is leaning to that masculine side. Given I’m not a particularly masculine personality, the way I present is definitely leaning in that direction.

A lot of people say that it (realising your sexuality) happened very young for them. High school for me was the turning point where I realised that there was an attraction that I felt. The way that my guy friends were getting crushes on girls, I was getting crushes on boys. Initially you just think “oh thats just a phase I’m going through, don’t worry about it.” but by the time I reached high school I realised that’s a feeling that isn’t going away and that it felt very natural. It’s a fairly agonising time, realising that that’s part of who you are, and not just something that you’re going through and will grow out of.

I am more assertive as a gay man, There is a burden that is lifted from you when you come out, and thirty five years ago it was a very different process coming out compared to what it is today. It manifests in smaller things like… would a man wear a scarf? There was a time when I wouldn’t do that because it felt too flamboyant, too obvious. Now though I feel much more comfortable, I’ll wear statement pieces, I wear an ear stud on camera – there was a time that would have been completely unacceptable for being too gay. Today? No one gives a stuff, News presenter is wearing an ear stud? So what? I’ve had it in since 1982, it’s not a new thing, but I can now feel comfortable having it in and presenting a part of my personality. I used to have to take it out and replace it with one of those blank studs for the news, its so much easier now!

I’m originally from South Africa, which was a fairly repressive society, and there was a lot of pressure to conform. I was outed by a newspaper reporter who just ambushed me saying “I just found out this information, would you like to comment on this story? I’m going to publish it anyway.” I was outed and not sure where it would leave my television career, but it was also like a liberation, I didn’t have to hide anymore. From there I became active in sports administration, gay and lesbian sport specifically. That was a big validation for me, it was like finding a home to be where I felt comfortable. We were actually campaigning for change, acceptance, and awareness. We had media campaigns going, local and international sports events going and that was a big turning point for me in terms of feeling comfortable as a gay man.

It was both empowering but at the same time those were the early nineties. It was a time of great transition for all of South Africa. Apartheid was being broken down, all of that negotiation was going on and it felt like the gay community… we weren’t the main game, but there was an opportunity for the community to say “hey, don’t forget about us, there are all these major political reforms, new constitution and everything, and we are a part of the deal.” It was quite empowering – I wasn’t a part of the process, that was for all of the advocates, lawyers, campaigners, and activists, who were doing all of the negotiating, but it was quite exciting to be a part of something new – to go from a system of great repression to a model constitution that was a world leading document that included a bill of rights that specifically included no discrimination on the basis of age, gender, sexual orientation, ableism and so on. It felt like being a part of history.

It was interesting to come to Australia from that, a whole different environment that was completely unknown. I came into a media market where I had zero experience and just lucked out at finding any employment. In about 2002 there was a thing in “The Good Weekend” called “Just The Two Of Us.” where they just interview two people about their relationship. They called me up and asked me to take part and I didn’t think for one second whether I should consider the implications, or consult my employer, and it was like a second coming out, just here in Australia. I outed myself as a gay man to a national publication. Luckily I work for quite a progressive network where that sort of thing has never been an issue.

I’m quite positive about the term “Queer”, I’m very much in the camp that says “That’s out word to use in whatever positive and constructive way that we want”. There was obviously a time in my life when that was used as an insult, and you couldn’t speak back against that because that was just the way society was set up in those days. There was the “establishment” the state, the church, community leaders, psychologists, everyone was on one side, and you were the exception, the outsider, the rule breaker, the disruptor, and the establishment could use all of these weapons to beat you down and try to make you conform, and that was one of the words that they used in those days to try and force you to be something you were not. I celebrate the fact that nowadays we can take a word like that and say this is our word, this word is for us and we have the right to shape how it is used.

I thin it’s very important to keep some pressure on all media to keep everyone honest. We all have a place in all of those platforms, and you need to keep reminding them that cant have an all white newsroom, and all white presenting team, and all heterosexual presenting team, or an all non-indigenous group. We need that diversity, and we need to keep reminding people when they fall down on the job. There are organisations like Media Diversity run by Antoinette Lattouf from Chanel Ten, and it’s really important to have organisations like that to support people trying to get opportunities in the media, whatever little support and advocacy you can get as a minority is always welcome and needed.

I always try in whatever small way I can to support organisations, individuals, campaigns that try to present a positive image of the larger gay and lesbian community. I’m not sure if that counts as being completely engaged in the queer community, I’m not an activist or advocate, but I try to support the community whenever I can.I feel absolutely connected with gay and lesbian people in the wider community. It is very much a part of who I am and how I see myself. I’m proud to be a part of that community, it isn’t something that was thrust upon me, it’s something I embrace. You don’t want to be pigeonholed as the “something” person within the media landscape – I don’t want to be labelled as the gay news presenter, or the brown skinned, or the migrant. We are many things in many situations, but my connection to the gay community is a key part of who I am.

I think that, like it or not, those of us that have a public profile have a sense of having to be better just to be good enough. You cant be just another person. There aren’t enough queer people in the media in order to just disappear and not make an impression and not make a positive impression on the airwaves. I don’t regard myself as a role model, but whatever positive presence I can present I can, and if I’m here then there’s room for other people like me to be here as well, and if that’s the only message that I can put out there then I’m happy with that.

We’ve come such a long way, but I would like to reach a point where it becomes more ordinary. We shouldn’t just be noticed when it’s Mardi Gras, or have someone be noted as our first gay something or other. I don’t want my gayness to be the main thing that people define me by. I want to reach a point where a person’s gender or sexuality is present, but unremarkable.

Full gallery on Facebook.com/thequeerlook

Please contact us if you would like to be involved

#lgbt #lgbtqiaplus #gay #queer #the queer look #photography #portrait #pride #sbs #Anton enus

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carrionxcamille · 4 years

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Ribs of Friendship | Cam, Adam, Cece, & Winn

Timing: Happy hour, June 1st Location: Dell’s Tavern Parties: Camille, Adam- @https://walker-journal.tumblr.com/, Cece- https://thebickedwitchoftherest.tumblr.com/, Winn- https://packsbeforesnacks.tumblr.com/ Summary: An unlikely group get absolutely blasted! At the Sports Bar and get to know eachother over crude jokes and ribs. Just another Totally Normal day in White Crest.

Camille pretty much had a job, finally. Which meant she’d be able to start saving up for a deposit on a flat and could get out of the shitty motel with the vampire neighbors. A reliable supply of hot water, a proper kitchen, her own bedsheets. It was going to be amazing. First, though, she was going to do something spiteful and petty. Jace was going to rot in a prison cell for the rest of his life. There was a Sox game showing this afternoon at a place called Dell’s Tavern — they were baseball, that was all she knew — Camille was going to drink beer, eat ribs, and watch the game. Even though Jace didn’t even know she was alive and would have no idea she was spending her afternoon doing three of his favorite things, it was going to be very satisfying.

She’d been so excited she had even straightened her hair and put on a little makeup for the occasion. Sitting at a stool on the bar with a cool bottle of their cheapest beer waiting for her ribs, Camille was as happy as she’d been in weeks.

“Hey there.”

Adam sidled into a chair next to Camille. A Sox baseball cap was perched precariously on a mop of the unruly brown hair. Wearing a sleeveless t-shirt with a suggestively shaped pair of baseballs under the phrase, “I’d Hit That,” and a much loved pair of worn jeans, the young man fit in well with the crowd. A lazily jocular edge to his smile hinted that Adam might’ve been pre-gaming well before the first pitch had actually been thrown. “Enjoying the game?” Adam asked, despite his brown eyes following the soft lines of Camille’s oval face down past her lithe shoulderline, far more intently then anything having to do with baseball.

Sports bars had to be one of Cece’s favorite places. Not because she enjoyed sports, but because she enjoyed the environment inside of them. The camaraderie, the excessive drinking, the excited energy of the place. Hell, Cece even enjoyed a good bar fight every now and again. She had convinced Winn to go out with her for the night, ensuring him that it was totally his responsibility to pay for the drinks.

They met up outside of Dell’s. “Looking good, Runaway. I think ditching town gave you some street cred. You’re really nailing that Ponyboy look.” She patted his shoulder endearingly and opened the door into the bar. “How many drinks do you need to tell me about that whole shitshow?”

The only use Winn had for baseball was for metaphors, and even then, they were all played out. But everyone up north crowded around for Sox games, and Winn felt an obligation to go out and mingle (though, really, Cece didn’t have to convince him to drink). Ponyboy? “Took you more for a cowboy gal, Cec. But we’ll find you a nice ponyboy. Ain’t gonna be me, but don’t you worry.” It occurred to Winn, belatedly, she might not be referring to that kind of ponyboy, but he’d take the L. She might get a laugh out of it.

As they walked into Dell’s — where Winn was half-sure he was gaining regular status despite his relative sobriety compared to the rest of the barflys — Winn caught sight of Adam in his element: flirting with a woman who was older than him. (Though, even queer as a three dollar bill as Winn was, he could admit Adam had taste.) “I can tell you ‘bout part of the shitshow,” he said to Cece, “but I think it’ll be much more fun to push ourselves into that shitshow.” Was he about to badly wingman a straight Hunter for a laugh? Absolutely. If Adam couldn’t stick a landing, he didn’t get to stick it in. “C’mon,” he said, hand pushing on Cece’s back as he guided them to the disaster-waiting-to-happen.

It was a long time since Camille had gotten much male attention. Being married to a guy like Jace didn’t exactly do wonders for your self esteem — she knew she wasn’t ugly, but feeling attractive and wanted was markedly different from just acknowledging that you had a pretty face. This kid who sidled up to her at the bar — and wasted absolutely no time letting his eyes wander from her face to her breasts — was what, mid twenties? Sharp jaw, muscular arms. The crude t-shirt was enough of a shock to her system to get her mouth working — almost. “Uh—” Eloquent. “Me? Yeah. I mean, I don’t— y’know, I don’t really follow baseball but it’s— Yeah. It’s good.”

Christ, thankgod his face was nothing like Jace’s, or she might have some heartbreaking flashback to their younger years. His smile had always taken up practically his whole face back then. Camille sipped her beer, trying to process what was happening — what, was he just overly friendly? There were plenty of hot young girls around to chat up. In fact another one just walked in. What was happening? “What about you?”

Broad shoulders shrugged at the question as Adam’s face beamed in a faintly flushed sunbeam smile. “Happy, Horny, Healthy, the usual,” he assured Camile, before putting one arm on the bar and leaning forward toward her a little. “Hey… so babe,” the young man’s smile and tone softened into a manner of conspiratorial intimacy. Adam’s bottom lip brushed against his upper teeth speculatively as his dark jasper eyes submerged below Camile’s neckline before eventually raising to meet her gaze again. “Maybe you’d be up for…”

“Yo Winn! Oui disaster nipples! Over here!

The moment was broken instantly as Adam caught sight of someone he knew from the crowd, the footballer’s free arm waving insistently to catch the newcomers attention across the crowd.

“First off, I don’t think you and I are on the same page about Ponyboy at all.” Cece squinted, not sure she even wanted to know at this point. Not until she had more alcohol in her. “Second, I’m equal opportunity. People are lining the streets to get to me. I’m just disinterested.” With a shrug, she eyed the pair across the bar that she assumed Winn was pointing too. “You’re totally changing the subject. But why is Prom King flirting with that grown-ass woman? I’m guessing you know one of them?” As if on cue, the boy started waving his arms in their direction. Bingo. Of course Winn knew the hot jock.

Cece pushed through the crowd to get to the two, eyeing the both of them suspiciously as she got up to them. She had no idea who either of them were, but was trying to assess the situation here. Did the woman need an out or was she welcoming of the company sidled up next to her? Cece offered a knowing smile to the woman before turning towards the guy. “Excuse me, sir. Don’t you have a science lab or high school playoffs coming up? Can I see some ID?”

“Yeah, I know him. But ixnay on the eavinglay ‘round him, alright? Promise I’ll tell you later,” Winn said. Given Adam’s attempted distance, Winn was almost surprised to see the other man wave. Delighted, but surprised. He sidled in next the other man, wrapping a loose arm around Adam’s shoulder and giving him a shake. Winn spoke loudly, turning the charm and cheese up to their maximum. “Aw, c’mon, Cece. Can’t you see he knows what he’s doin’? He’s shootin’ his shot! And who knows, maybe this lovely lady across from me digs the,” he snorted, remembering Adam’s own term for him that first night, “fuckable boybander vibe.”

“Winn Woods,” he said, reaching around and in front of Adam to the woman to offer his hand for a shake. “I’m Adam’s gay best,” werewolf, “friend. I can tell you all sorts of,” fake, “secrets about the guy, before you make your decision. And if you pour your drink in his lap, I’ll be there like a real bro to towel him off.” He smirked, winking from behind Adam’s sight at Cece and the other woman. “And Cece, babe, I know you don’t know sports, but playoffs would’ve been, like, a month ago or more.”

Oh god, that smile. That was Jace all over. The sight of it had made Camille melt, once upon a time. Admittedly it was not ineffective now, she felt her own lips curling up at the corners in a reciprocal smile. She blinked, surprised by the statement — he was… horny? Did people just admit to that these days? What was she meant to say? Luckily, there wasn’t much time for her to worry about what kind of response to offer because he barrelled forward, and she didn’t lean back when he leaned forward.

Would it be so terrible? To flirt a little with some handsome fool at a bar? Now that would really piss Jace off. She wanted to know what she might be up for. Again, though, her chances were dashed when he noticed a couple of friends. Camille shot the woman a wide eyed but bemused glance, trying and failing to stifle a laugh at her quip. He was young, of course, though to Camille the girl did not look much older, and neither did the other man. “Fuckable boybander vibe,” she repeated as she shook Winn’s hand, amused by how accurate of a descriptor it was.

Very quickly she had all their names — how useful — and almost entirely forgot to introduce herself, lost in trying to keep up with everything Winn was saying. “Camilla W— uh—” Actually, yeah, she didn’t want to stick with Watkins. “Dugar.” Better. She could say Watkins had been her married name, if pressed. “Nice to meet you. All. Not the worst vibe, for the record.” She shot Adam a quick grin, really having no idea what else to do — very out of practice with the flirting. “I can — sorry, if you guys came to hang out I can go sit somewhere else, I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Sure.” Adam made reaching around behind to his back pocket into an excuse to brush an arm close to Camille. He retrieved his wallet and held it out for Cece’s pursal, the contents indicating that he’d turned twenty two on this past January 14th. “I’m legal,” he said absently while leaning forward with his I.D into a none-too-subtle pretense to give the blonde bombshell a once over...and then a second over...and around the third over seeming to remember that evolved homo-sapiens engaged in conversation sometimes. “But if you still want to drag me outta here, rough me up a bit…” He looked up into Cece’s green eyes with a submissive puppyish expression. “Definitely wouldn’t complain.”

The hunter let out a long whistle at Winn’s statements, the bird-song lilt hinting at a life spent outdoors. “Towelin’ me off...” Adam replied in a thickly affected Tennessee drawl, “when y’ talk all hot and purty like that Mr. Lee,” he continued with a soft playful punch at the man-hip now blocking his way to the ladies. “... why, it nearly flips me ass-up.”

However Camile’s protestation snapped Adam out of the banter. “Woah, woah Camilla.” He leaned back with both elbows behind him on the bar, craning his neck past Winn. “You’re the star of this party. You been in White Crest long?”

Ah, the elusive bromance. A tale as old as time and a relationship with weirdly sexual undertones. Cece loved a good bromance. Winn cozied up in the chair next to Adam while Cece still stood between Camille and Adam’s seats. She had to admit, Adam at least had the charming thing going for him. Cece couldn’t decide between rolling her eyes at the dude or flirting with him. “You’re cute.” Cece reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Make sure to treat me right in your dreams.”

Apparently, Camille got the wrong idea that the three of them had come to hang out. “I agree with Troy Bolton here. We’re all in this together now. It wouldn’t be any fun without you.” She assured Camille that Adam was right and she should stay with the group.

Confident that he was alright, Cece found the stool next to Camille and flagged down the bartender. She ordered beer for herself, pointing at the others. “Put in your orders. First round’s on pretty boy over there. Well, the farthest pretty boy,” she said, pointing past Adam at Winn.

“Mmm, awright, sweetheart,” Winn grumbled, jokingly, into Adam’s ear, letting out an exaggerated groan when the other man ‘punched’ him. He had to admit he was mildly impressed at Adam’s quick turn from joking to… well, about as genuine as Winn was sure the boy could be in public. As Adam tipped his head back, Winn plucked the hat off of his head, throwing it, backwards, onto his own sweep of hair, ruffling Adam’s affectionately. Gotta give the boy a little more tousle if he was hopin’ to impress two women in front of him.

“They’re right,” he said, evenly. “We didn’t come here for this mess,” meaning Adam, “we came here for this mess.” He threw a thumb back at the taps. “And as my darling Cece has pointed out, I’m buyin’. Owe her, taken some of Adam’s for free… and haven’t seen you ‘round these parts, so I figure I’m payin’ it forward.”

When Cece got the bartender, Winn rolled his eyes. “Beer, Cec? And here I thought you were a classy woman.” Then again, Winn told the bartender to get him ‘whatever,’ so he wasn’t picky or nothin’. Turning his attention to Camille, he smiled, “Picked a wild time to come into town, if you’re new here. I’d promise that the ocean wasn’t always black, but… that would imply that somethin’ wasn’t usually going down. And that,” he said, laughing, “would be the biggest lie I ever told.”

Camille was really having to focus to keep up. Three people was not really a crowd but it felt like it to her, especially with them all chattering away and asking questions. The way they all bounced off each-other made her miss her old friends. By the time she’d died Camille hadn’t really been close with anyone- trying to keep your crumbling marriage a secret could have that effect- but there were a few people from work she’d had this kind of easy back and forth with. She was unsurprised when Adam blatantly checked out the other girl of the group- that was young guys for you, attention span of a goldfish- and she was sure whatever appeal she might’ve held moments ago was now forgotten.

Still if they wanted here to stay… Well, there was no harm right? They were young and loud and here to drink and probably weren’t going to ask anything too invasive. She’d come here to have fun, a group would probably help with that. And more beer definitely would. Camille shuddered at the mention of the black ocean, “um, I’ll just have another one of these.” She told the bartender, lifting up her near empty bottle and draining the last of it. “Got here just over a month ago actually, in the midst of all that mad stuff with the, uh, mimes.”

God this place was fucking nuts. “Grew up in Bangor though, so I was always hearing crazy stories.” Now she was one of them, she supposed. “Didn’t expect eyeballs out of my damn taps though, I gotta say that one really threw me.”

“Yeah, fish eyes are used as bait a lot,” Adam said in an amiable baritone that could convey steady normalcy even if a very building they sat in was engulfed in flame. “They do it all the time in Cook’s Bay,” he claimed while making an order of his own. “Fucking crazy that a bunch of bait would get yeeted into the harbor same time as the big oil spill, its friggen Deep Water Horizon all over again. Hope all the fishing crews get compensated once a lawsuit gets through y’know?”

Like many Hunters, Adam was charged with the preservation of the supernatural world’s secrecy, a delicate balance between making sure that humans were safe from supernatural threats and ensuring that paranormal communities were safe from the witch hunts and hysteria of ages past. A lifetime of assuring people that everything was perfectly normal even as Spawn rampaged through graveyards, churning rips in space-time disgorged eldritch horrors, and children went ‘missing’ in Trow dens had cultivated a warm soothing mien that invited everyone else around him to buy into the banal lie.

Everything was fine. What a terrible oil spill. Wolves can’t be people. That’s crazy!

“What made you decide to come to White Crest, Camilla?”

Either Adam was crazy off his ass or he was purposefully moving away from the conversation of the eyeballs. With Camille’s back turned to her, Cece shot Winn a suspicious glance as if to convery, Who is this dude? He did a pretty good job trying to normalize the whole eyeballs coming out of water pipes though, so if nothing else he was either good at making up falsehoods or way too invested in explaining the supernatural away.

“How does anyone end up in White Crest?” Cece interjected, accepting her drink from the bartender and taking a gulp of it before continuing, “A bit of bad luck and a dash of poor decision making.” Cece flipped Winn off, “For the record this beer was on special tonight. That’s hella classy.”

“You’d have to be on somethin’ to take that case,” Winn grumbled, and then, because it probably was a smart idea to lie to Camille, “I’m sure the fishers will fight the town for lettin’ off-shore drilling go on like that.” Winn reached around Adam as Camille’s eyes were on the game for a moment and twirled his finger at Cece, an implicit Just go with it. Regardless of the hard-to-explainability of White Crest this week, they couldn’t really lead with “Hi, we’re a witch, a werewolf, and a Hunter, how’re you today?”

“Don’t have to go on the cheap just ‘cause I’m paying, y’all, by all means break the bank.” There was a part of Winn that hated flashing money around, but that part was easily combated by the part of him that hated drinking cheap shit. And the beer on special was cheap shit. He tilted his head at Cece for a moment, considering, and ordered her another drink, something nicer (and, frankly, more alcoholic).

Fish eyes. Right. Camille sighed, aiming an annoyed glance at the sigil on the back of her hand. There was a time when she’d have rationalized it away like that, too. But then she’d come back from the dead and it was hard to ignore that the world was full of strange and terrifying things like re-animated corpses and whatever problem had eyeballs coming out of taps. Maybe their cluelessness was a good thing, she needed some normal in her life. “Right, fish eyes. No wonder it stinks so bad, crazy.”

She nearly choked on the first sip of her new drink when Cece made her comment, grabbing for a napkin to cover her mouth while she cleared her throat and recovered. “I hope not too much poor decision making. I—suddenly needed a new place, but I didn’t want it to be in Bangor because that felt like a step back.” Camille twisted the napkin up in her hands, but despite the tension to her body there was a smile on her face, “I just left my husband.” It was the first time she’d said that out loud, and even if the way they’d take the statement—a divorce—wasn’t totally right, it was close enough.

A plate of ribs was set down in-front of her and she laughed a little, remembering why she’d come here in the first place. “Ribs, beer, and sports were three of his favorite things. I saw that this place was showing the game and figured I’d come here to spite him.”

“So you're free...niiiice,” was apparently Adam’s sole take away from Camille’s confession. His dark eyes followed the banter between Cece and Winn, letting the resident werewolf dude reach around him to make some random gesture. Winn made a twirling motion at Cece, which Adam didn’t understand the context of.

Nevertheless, while Winn was doing that, Adam made his own addendum of sticking a finger in his mouth in slow suggestive rhythms for Cece’s edification, before gesturing with his head towards Winn and Camille before making the fingers of one hand frantically hump the other fist. This was concluded with the footballer making a heart to Cece, followed by two thumbs up.

Confident that this pantomimed proposal of a foursome definitely helped whatever Winn had been trying to say, Adam turned his attention back to Camille as her food arrived.

“I dunno, poor decisions can be... fun sometimes,” assured Adam with an innocent choirboy smile as he made progress on the drink that’d arrived for him.

Clearly, Winn wanted Cece to roll with the mundane excuse. She wasn’t going to fight it. She had moved here for a regular life after all. That had all gone to hell in a prada purse about a month into it, but the idea had really been pure. She didn’t plan on ruining that for anyone else. Especially someone as seemingly innocent as Camille. The poor girl had no idea what she had gotten wrapped up in. Winn, Cece, and assumingly Adam weren’t crazy in the supernatural sense, but in a bar? Havoc could ensue. And Camille seemed to not only be caught in the middle of it, but had the spotlight shown down on her.

Cece stared back at Adam as he… what the hell was he doing? Fingering his mouth? Cece held a confused look on her face before returning the gesture, using her middle finger in its place. He finished off with suggesting a foursome between the group. Admittedly, the company around was pretty attractive. Cece wasn’t denying Adam’s looks, the dude was hella hot. She was even starting to warm up to the guy. Definitely didn’t mean she planned on sleeping with him. “I think I like you Adam, just haven’t decided why yet.”

“Leaving your husband is just about the smartest reason I’ve ever heard someone move to White Crest for and I will drink to that.” The bartender dropped off the second drink that Winn had ordered for her and she winked over at Winn in appreciation, “Thanks babe! In fact, I'll double drink to that.” She raised both glasses and took turns taking a large drink from each. “Well, we need the ribs, then. If we’re going to do this right and really stick it to him.”

Winn listened with a counselor’s patience to Camille’s reasons for moving to White Crest. Something, maybe the way Camille was holding herself, made Winn cock his head. Her heart wasn’t beating faster — at least, not more than could be explained by proximity to Adam’s… everything. And speaking of Adam…

What was he doing? Winn wouldn’t deny mild interest in the way Adam’s mouth wrapped around a finger, and Winn wasn’t… opposed to sleeping outside of his usual range? So long as someone was fucking him with something, he could get off to a blank piece of paper if he tried hard enough. He smirked, rolling his eyes in Cece’s direction as she flipped him off. Good for her. Adam could use the blow to his ego, even if Winn was still half-sure part of his bravado was fake as hell.

But back to the more important company, “I agree with Cece. You’ve got a head start on us, Cam — is it alright if I call you Cam? Before you make any poor decisions, you’ve got to let us help you make a poor decision!” Wait, no. Adam would get the wrong idea. “Buyin’ you a lot of ribs, I mean.”

There was, admittedly, something almost attractive about the crude gestures Adam was making. In a college frat boy sense. He was hot enough to get away with doing stupid stuff. Camille exchanged glances with Winn and Cece. “I know I’ve been out of the loop for a while, but am I supposed to understand what he’s trying to say with all the-” She imitated one ofthe gestures poorly, and that was enough to snap the pieces together in her head. “Oh! Oh- yeah. No, yeah. I get it now. Wow- that’s- hm.” She shook her head, dispelling the notion entirely. She hadn’t had sex in years, and it’d certainly never been that freaky. “I think I need to warm up a bit before making a decision that poor.”

She slid the plate of ribs a little ways along the bar so the others could grab one if they wanted, “uh- yeah. Cam is fine.” It was closer to her own name, in fairness. She laughed, raising a rib in a mock cheers, “well then, to my ex husband being miserable forever, and making poor decisions.” She gulped down a little beer then took a bite from the rib, grinning.

Adam raised his glass high and let out a loud woop that drew a few glances before the gaming-watching bustle returned to its collective inertia. “To Cam! May her ex get ulcers that make him piss blood in loneliness and may she forget his prick-ass forever!” With that merry invocation of divine justice, Adam added yet more alcohol to his system.

“So,” Adam pointed to Cece and Winn with his free-hand, purposefully choosing to spare Cam the spotlight for a little bit. “What’ve you crazy hot kids been up to?”

Cece liked this group, and it totally wasn’t just because of the beer and ribs. Well, it totally wasn’t any more than like half because of the beer and ribs. Camille led the charge, stealing Cece’s heart with an impromptu cheers using her ribs. Damn, Cece loved a good emotional cheers. Adam chimed in with his own addition to the roasting of Camille’s douche of an ex. “Dark, dude. I can drink to that.” Cece grinned, raising one of her glasses and finishing off the beer. She slid the empty glass across the bar and found the drink Winn had ordered for her as a chaser. “Get too into defamation and we may end up hexing the dude.” And if Camille gave Cece anymore reason to, then those hexes may just end up ringing true.

“Winn here was just taking me out for a night on the town. He owes me.” The two hadn’t really discussed how Winn owed her exactly. The conversation about her tracking his whereabouts hadn’t naturally come up in conversation. “I make him pay a membership fee for my friendship.”

Winn nearly choked on his drink at Adam’s toast, masking his laughter by raising his glass to the rest of the group’s. “Hear, ah, hear?” he tried, voice coming out hoarse from the liquor burning at his throat. He shot Cece a glance that he hoped communicated ‘Don’t hex anybody without Cam’s permission.’ Though, given she was already on her second drink, he figured it would be forgotten by the time it came to actually hex the prick. (If hexes were, like, a real thing?)

“I definitely owe her,” he agreed, rolling his eyes at Adam’s ‘crazy hot kids’ comment. They were both older than him. Like, definitely more emotionally evolved. No matter Winn’s suspicions about Adam’s whole… deal. “I’m truly lucky for her friendship. I need the good karma that pickin’ her drunk ass off the floor nets me.” He gulped down more of his drink, winking across at Cece. “And don’t y’all have, like, a giant television at the house?” he said, nudging Adam. “Your moose brothers not want to watch the Sox? Too busy puttin’ up their socks on doorknobs?” This time, his wink was directed at Cam.

Though it was again a little more crude than the sort of company Camille was used to, she had to say she did not take any issue with Adam’s toast, going as far as to clink her own beer bottle against his before taking a swig. If only she could forget him, wouldn’t that be nice. Her gaze shot to Cece when she mentioned hexing, wondering if she actually meant it, if Cam wasn’t the only one here who knew about the weird supernatural side to White Crest. She even opened her mouth to ask, and then realized they were probably in mixed company and she didn’t want to come off as crazy, so just took another bite out of the rib in her hand.

Perhaps if she got the girl alone some time she could ask about it. In the bathroom or something, girls went to the bathroom in groups right? Yeah. “Oh god, socks on doorknobs?” Camille laughed, shaking her head. “People still really do that? I miss college.” Jace had done the whole frat thing of course, and she’d been in a sorority too, she could remember how damn near impossible it was to get time alone together. “That’s why you came here all on your lonesome, huh?” She teased, nudging Adam’s arm, “got something to prove to your frat pals.”

“Yes we still do that,” assured the guy who lived in a house where socks and kinds of things were put on various types of knobs. “And I’m with a client actually,” Adam protested at Winn and Camille’s insinuations of being a randy stag goodnaturedly. “I’m here if they needs me,”

Adam nodded to a figure seated directly across the bar from him on a couch. The ‘client’ was dressed in a full jacket with gloves, hood, hat, and sunglasses despite the heat, no skin showing. Gloved fingers, six on each hand, drummed absently on the client’s knees as their gaze drifted across the crowd in the manner of someone overwhelmed but nevertheless content to observe the jovial chaos in silence.

“But at sundown I can be with whoever wants me,” Adam noted with a smirk to Camille before purposefully diverting the conversation away from his client. “So, you’re here now. Found work yet?”

Two drinks in and Cece wasn’t mad about the company she had found herself in tonight. She wanted to argue Winn’s point about her drunk ass, but considering they met when he helped get her drunk ass home one night, she decided against it. Clearly he wasn’t letting her live that one down anytime soon. At least until Cece returned the favor. Problem was, she never turned down a drink. She may not leave the place stumbling off her ass but she was rarely sober enough to be the responsible one in a group.

Adam had clients, huh? Cece could only assume it was a sex thing. At least until Adam pointed the client out and Cece shot them a strange look, “Hmm. That’s a weird kink.” She muttered. She caught that bartender’s attention and tapped at her empty glass, smiling when he nodded his confirmation that he had received the message. “I dig the whole serial killer vibes they put off. Very Jack the Ripper.” Cece took a drink from her new glass and listened as Cam dished more details about her life.

Client? Winn looked at the figure Adam had nodded to, considering the other man’s word choice. Sundown. In the loud thrum of the bar, it was hard to hear whether or not the client had a heartbeat, if Adam was helping out someone in the way he’d helped Lucas. For all the younger man talked about conflicts of interest, he had… far more supernatural friends than particular enemies, Winn felt. But now wasn’t the time to argue with Adam over his calling in life — especially not in public. Adam hadn’t talked to Cam for any reason other than his babe senses, Winn was sure. Otherwise, why would he have attempted to cover up the town’s… weirdness.

Cece was already on her third drink, so Winn felt he had to up the ante. Neither of them were driving home, right? Unlike the night they’d met, Winn could, you know, call a damn Uber. He motioned the bartender as he came back with Cece’s next drink, mumbling “Strong.” with a wink to the, admittedly pretty, man. Was Winn (probably) hanging out with a bunch of straight folks? Yes. Did that mean he couldn’t distract himself from the whole… Noah situation? Absolutely not.

Okay, Camille had a hell of a lot of questions about that client. Not that she had any right to ask them, or really any desire to know the answers — there was probably nothing good to be said about a guy dressed like that. Who kept their gloves on inside? Well, people who wanted to hide their hands. She tugged at the sleeve of her shirt to tug it down over that ugly sigil, and wondered if she should become a gloves person too. She hadn’t been here long, so it wouldn't be hard to establish them as part of her style. Cam forgot about the guy happily enough when Adam diverted attention back to her. “So the spell is broken at midnight? Would that make you Cinderella or the fairy godmother?” she teased, taking a drink. “Day manager at that theme park. Cryptic— no, Cryptid Corner.” Cam shrugged. “Not exactly the dream, but it pays better than being a shop assistant or something. I mean I just got it and I’m still on, like, a trial period, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. What about you two?” She gestured towards Cece and Winn. “Now that we know Adam works as a full time weirdo watcher.”

“They’re from outta town,” was the only detail Adam supplied in explanation of his client’s nature to those gathered. He definitely wasn’t inclined to explain just how much of an understatement that was. But thus far the “guest” to this dimension had abided by the deal to not absorb anyone’s biomass, which was mean that Adam could spend his evening flirting and generally get his boorish man-child act on instead of lowering White Crest’s tourist cred by filling a sightseer full of holes.

“I mean… I can put on slippers and wings if that’s what you’re into,” he assured Camille with an easy smile. “Cryptid Corner… Is that the one with the mothman and all that?” he asked before the questions turned to Cece and Winn.

“I’d actually be quite interested in you in slippers and wings.” Cece shrugged, taking a drink from her ridiculously strong drink. She knew she had Winn to blame for that. But as long as she didn’t have to drive home tonight, she didn’t really care how much she drank. “Yeah, I think so. Supposed to have all those weird attractions. I think I talked to the owner of that place once.” Cece remembered chatting about the amusement park. It seemed like her scene, terrifying and exhilarating. Though she hadn’t had the chance to get out there yet. “Guess I’ll really have to check it out now that I have a friend that works there.”

“I work for the Medical Examiner’s office.” Cece explained, “I’m a toxicologist. Which is just a fancy word to say that I test urine and blood I collect from dead people.” Cece joked. She turned to Winn, suddenly realizing that she didn’t actually know what the hell he did. Aside from modeling in a past life.

“There’s an amusement park in town?” Winn said, wondering aloud. “Jeez, for Smalltown, USA, this place sure does have everythin’.” Weird attractions? Weird for White Crest? Christ, what kind of horror show was Cam working at?

“Oh, me?” Well, this was awkward. What did he do? Oh Christ, did Winn have hobbies? Friends that weren’t werewolves or… well, Hunters? “Um, it’s the off-season, but I coach the high school team. For hockey.” He scrambled through his brain, searching for something, anything. “I modeled?” Wait, shit, not that. “Um, in Europe mostly.” Worse, somehow. Winn could almost feel the smirks building on Adam and Cece’s faces. “I got kicked out of school today, so I’m, uh, a bit… loose, with the job-slash-life-thing, right now.” He downed his entire drink in one gulp, gesturing to the bartender to get him another drink, now. Please.

“Only if you can actually wave a magic wand and change my life.” Camille muttered in response to Adam’s quip, swivelling a little on her stool to order another beer. She should be careful really, because she didn’t know this guy and her tolerance wasn’t what it had been in college. But screw it. If anyone could go through what she had and not crave being a little bit drunk, then they were probably nuts to begin with. “Yeah.” She perked up again with a new bottle in her hand. “Yeah, mothman and all that shit, terrible uniforms. Don’t get too hyped up about visiting, it’s nothing special.”

Dead people? Ah, shit. “So do you, uh— do you know Regan?” She toyed nervously with a lock of hair, hoping to god this wasn’t some strange set up because the doctor had spilled her secrets. She didn’t seem like the gossip type, but still. “I— met her. While I was out for a walk a few days ago.” That was fine, this was a small town, people were friendly enough to introduce themselves. Kicked out of school? Camille’s concerned teacher instinct kicked in, and she leaned across a little to get a better look at Winn. He didn’t seem lazy or like a troublemaker or anything — true her expertise was in much younger kids, but there might still be something she could do. “What happened? Did they give you a fair chance before kicking you out? Temporary expulsions? Reports, guidance counselor?”

Resisting the urge to answer Camile’s quip with the insistence that his ‘wand’ was indeed magic and could change lives, Adam continued drinking but briefly frowned in thought at the mentions of a Medical Examiner led on into Regan being brought up. While it was always possible that this was a completely different ME office with a different Regan, Adam had a suspicion that this Dr. Regan Kavanagh, the world’s most confusing hunter-dating Banshee materialist.

Winn dropped the fact that he was a male model in Europe, causing Adam to decide that he wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough and order another drink. Sex-canyon V-line wolfmen coaching high school hockey like it was one of those sappy sports movies wasn’t something he wanted to process sober.

Cece’s eyes narrowed towards Winn. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the college to her yet. Not enough alcohol yet, clearly. Luckily, Cam seemed to have asked the questions for the group. Not that Cece thought it was her business to get involved in Winn’s personal life. But she was a big fan of a little chaos every now and again. She could storm the campus and make a few heads spin. For funsies.

“Oh, you met my boss then.” Cece smirked, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Bucket of fun isn’t she?” From the looks of it, more people knew about the Doc than Cece thought. Apparently, despite Cece’s assumptions, the woman was pretty popular in town. But if Regan referred to any of these people as a friend before breaking down and accepting Cece’s friendship Cece wears going to dive off a bridge. “I love that girl to death, but she takes life a bit too seriously for my tastes.” Cece followed suit with Winn, downing her new drink in one gulp and raising the empty glass towards him in triumph. “Hell yeah! That’s the kind of energy I’m looking for tonight! Guys, I think we’re going to have some fun.”

“I am not drunk enough to talk about Regan Kavanagh nor my educational drama,” Winn said in his smoothest, most honeyed voice. “And we’ve got all the time in the world for me to come clean. So long as you don’t clean out my wallet.” He winked, slapping Adam on the back again. “I’m sure the golden boy and I can show y’all ladies a nice time. Though not that nice, eh Adam?” He elbowed the other man, trying to direct the conversation off of him — and Regan for that matter.R

After all, he hadn’t spoken to Regan since they’d sent that CVS on 3rd to a hell dimension. The less Winn thought about that, the better. Oh yeah, he was going to get blasted tonight. He deserved it. No one was driving home, they were pissing off an Uber driver with four different locations, loud chatter, and absolutely no filter like God and Stonewall intended. He may be the only queer person here, tonight, but it was Pride Month and he knew how to work a party, even in the straightest possible place. First thing? “Bartender!” he called, loud and long and stupid, “I need, uhhhhh, a drink for every percentage point you want me to tip you.” Hell yeah. Time to get stupid.

#chatzy #adam cece winn #adam #cece #winn

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green-ball-of-trash · 4 years

Text

Roman in The Closet by Himself!! Part 1

word count: 2202

ship: Prinxiety, Background Logicality, Background Remile, vaguely mention Demus.

part1/part2/part3/part4/?

WARNINGS: self deprecation, depression, repression, non-censored cursing, the word wh*re is used and it not censored, lgbtq+phobia is mentioned in this chapter but not directed at any of the characters.

summary: Roman has a rough journey with his sexuality, and his crush on a certain little emo~

Roman had always been enraptured with the concept of love. He could remember watching Disney movies when he was younger, where the prince rescues the princess and they both live happily ever after.

Although, he was never really focused on the princess of the story but more so on they heroic prince. He always thought that Prince Phillip was so much more interesting than Arora, but his little child mind couldn’t understand nor explain why that was.

Until he was ten years old~

He had been looking at Disney videos on his ipad, when he discovered a peculiar video with a rainbow flag in the thumbnail. He thought that all the colors on the flag looked pretty, so he decided to click on it.

He heard phrases in the video that he had never heard before, such as; gay, trans, homosexaul, bisexual, pansexual, and so many more and he had absolutely no idea what they meant. Even though he had no clue, he watched the entire video. After the video was over, he got out his red notebook with Disney stickers plastered haphazardly all over the front and back cover.

He decided to rewatch the video again and write down any words that he didn’t understand, and look them up after he was finished. Logan is gonna be so proud of me, he had said to himself thinking of his quiet nerdy best friend.

He spent the entire day learning things like pride, non-bianary, gender fluid, and more. He felt like he had opened his eyes to a completely new world and he was so excited about it. He had no idea there were so many different types of amazing people. He was so… Excited!

His parents were busy with work downstairs, and his brother was over at a friends house so he took it upon himself to spend his entire day learning and watching videos on this community of people. It was impossible to learn everything in a day, but he was determined to try.

He listened to and read people’s stories on the internet, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t cry. Why were people so mean to them? He had asked himself, why are there so many mean people in the world? They were just being themselves, why couldn’t people just be proud of them? What Roman didn’t know at the time, is that he would have a few stories of his own like that in the future.

A few weeks later, he was on the swings with his best friend Logan. Swinging back and forth with the breeze as they talked about anything and everything, non-sense and Disney, jokes and laughter, serious topics and funny stories, until Roman decided to bring up some of the stuff he had learned to his friend. He kicked his legs back and forth carelessly as he spoke, “hey, Lo?” Logan had looked at him, as Logan wasn’t swinging nearly as much as Roman was but more just drifting to and fro with the wind as he talked with his flamboyant best friend, “yeah Ro?”

Roman grinned for a minute before speaking, “have you heard of LGBTQ+?”

Logan had nodded at his question, “yeah, my dads talk about it all the time.” He said in a nonchalant manner. Roman groaned, frustrated “AWWW, I thought I learned about something that you didn’t..” Roman stopped his swinging, skidding his bright red shoes across the ground to stop himself.

Logan chuckled and pushes up his glasses, “sorry Ro, but I know everything.”

Roman stared at Logan throwing his hands about as he spoke, “that's not fair.” he said the last word dragging it out like it was the end of the world.

Roman had met Logan’s dads before, yet he never knew what LQBTQ+ meant and he didn’t know that a lot of people thought it was a bad thing. He thought it was awesome that Logan’s dads loved each other, even before he knew that they loved each other if that made any sense. To Roman it made complete sense in his ten year old mind.

Roman then got an idea, “Hey Logan, there was some things I didn’t understand when I was lookin’ up stuff about it. Do you think you could answer some of my questions?”

Logan looked a little excited to teach Roman, and they spent the rest of the time on the swings not swinging but talking. Talking about something that would be very important to them one day.

7 years later~

Roman was seventeen, and he was the most popular kid in his highschool, everyone had taken a liking to his outgoing nature. His best friends Logan, Patton, and Virgil were popular right along with him. There was only one thing that bothered Roman, his sexuality. He was terrified, from the bottom of his heart he was terrified because ne knew that he was not straight in any sense of the term. He was as curved as a rollercoaster and the ride made him feel woozy and nauseous.

He knew that the vast majority of his school would hate him for being the way he was, so you know what he did? Like the scared little closeted boy he was he ran into the deepest corner of that closet and hid like a little toddler in hide and seek, only he wasn’t a toddler and this wasn’t hide and seek, this was hide for your life. At least that was what it had felt like to him.

He knew that his friend would accept him, since Patton had come out to them in freshman year as Pan to him, Logan, and Virgil, it had lead to Logan coming out to them as gay demisexual, and then a year later in there sophmore Virgil coming out to them as gay. They promised to support each other and never ever tell anyone else. It was like their own little pride group, only Roman was an ally… Or so the others had thought.

Roman knew that they would accept him. Of all people who knew that he could come out to them, and it was okay. But his heart leapt up into his throat and his knees buckled and the mere thought of it. He could just imagine their judgemental glances, thinking he was only saying it because he wanted to feel included, “you’re not really gay.” He would imagine them saying, “are you doing this for attention?” “if you were gay then why have you been telling us about all your straight crushes for years?” He had made up crushes to stay in the closet “you’re so dramatic! Just shut up and we can forget you even tried to pull off this whole charade.”

I part of him knew they would never do that, but it was a very small part of him, it was like a tiny ball of light shining in the darkness of self deprecation that he had created within himself. He pretended to be so confident, he was a great actor ‘but that was the only thing he was great at’ He would say to himself like a father scolding a child for doing something wrong, only the child was priding within himself and the father was a cold old man with no joy and wanted his son to live a dry cold life never thinking higher than an inch of himself.

“Princey? You okay there?...” he hadn’t noticed that he had started to zone out with another one of his spirals into the dark clouded space that was his mind. ‘No’ he said to himself and only himself. Virgil would think he was such an attention seeking whore if he ever told him anything that went on in his head, “I’m fit as a fiddle Hottopic, sorry I zoned out, I was just thinking about Valerie. Her hair looked so pretty today.” He said with a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. Valerie was amazing, she was really fun to hang out with and yes her hair actually did look pretty today but to Roman he felt nothing but platonic love for her. And when he would pretend to have a crush on her, especially to one of his best friends….. He felt as though someone was stabbing a knife into his heart, his weak little heart that throbbed at anything and everything. He was so weak he would tell himself. His heart was a bruised and pin pricked as a baby rabbit that got into a fight with a porcupine, and oh how his heart loved to jump and do summersaults like the little rabbit it was in the presence of the emo sitting next to him.

But the thing was it hurt so so much worse when he lied to Virgil. Virgil was so caring, he was kind to all of them, and he loved hanging out with him. Virgil was just so funny, and cute, and smart, and handsome, and- he stopped his thoughts, halting them and pushing them as far back into his mind as they would go. It was getting a lot harder to get rid of them lately. Virgil got a sad sort of look in his eyes but Roman didn’t notice, he was to busy gay panicing. “Thats sweet Roman. You two would be cute together ...” Virgil trailed off, sort of spacing out himself as Roman had just a few moments ago.

Roman clapped his hands together and stood up with a plastered smile on his face, startling Virgil almost knocking him off the bench that they had been sitting on. They were at the park, just talking. Roman turned toward Virgil and uttered a quick apology before spilling his idea to his monochromatic friend, “We should go get ice cream!!” Virgil chuckled at Roman’s excitement, and blushed under his porcelain foundation, “sure thing, if you promise to stop yelling” Virgil pulled on his hoodie strings, “people are starting to stare.” he said the last part with breathless sort of panicked whisper only loud enough just for Roman to catch it.

They spent the rest of the day just walking around town, laughing and enjoying the company of one another. Roman’s little heart jumped into his throat everytime he heard that beautiful laugh of Virgil’s, it was like looking at the sky and letting the sun hit your face. You can’t open your eyes and look directly at it though, because you might go blind at its unending beauty. Even if Virgil didn’t think so, he was the sun, the moon, the stars, and the clouds all bundled up in one amazing person and oh how he shined.

He was always there when you needed him and he was the most hard working person Roman knew, even if Virgil ran into days where he couldn’t even speak because of his anxiety disorder Roman thought he was so strong to have even got out of bed on those days. And he made sure to tell Virgil how strong he was everyday, and if Virgil couldn’t find his voice that day. Roman would speak for him to faceless strangers at school who wanted to speak with Virgil, although Logan and Patton would do that as well, it seemed to have affected Virgil more when Roman did it. It made Virgil feel warm and gooey on the inside, feelings that someone with a hard emo persona like his should never let themselves have but he had them and he loved how they made him feel. But he could never feel that about Roman, because Roman would never feel that way about him and that wasn’t something that he could change and that was just the way the world had to fuck him over.

The universe had made a little emo gay boy who was obsessed with My Chemical Romance and black eyeshadow, fall in love with his straight best friend. What a painful story trope. Only his best friend wasn’t actually straight, a fact that he was oblivious to, and this wasn’t a cheesy romance story this was their lives. Virgil looked down at hits ice cream, enjoying the treat quietly as he listened to Roman gush and rant about Hamilton or whatever musical he had decided to talk about.

They had arrived at Virgil’s house and said their goodbyes, with halfwitted insults with no venom in the words. It was their usual routine and they were both content with the way their relationship was. But they were just content, both of them wanted more but they would never admit that to themselves or each other. Roman walked home, with everything swirling around in his head and he laughed with a sort of dark emptiness. What a day.

To be continued~

OH MY GOSH THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE!!! Idk how much fun it was to read or how many people will actually read it, but I hope at least a few people enjoy it. this first part was out earlier than I had expected! When I get the next part out then I will link it on this part and tag anyone who wants to know when it comes out. I hope you enjoyed~ my friend that pitched me some ideas: @akane-mukami she is amazing and beautiful please go show her some love!

taglist:

@mostpeopleannoyne

@www-dot-ohshit-dot-com

@icequeenoriginal

@espepspes

@rats-this-username-is-taken

Green~~

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thicctransboi · 5 years

Text

Sam+ Grizz If new ham had never happened_ Full Fic

Friday

Sam watched the interpreter in front of the class explain today’s English assignment;

‘You’ll be working in pairs to annotate any poem or play of your choice. You have two weeks to turn your projects in, and I expect you all to work outside of school as well. Go ahead and pair up.’

Sam let out a sigh, dreading the idea of partnering up with someone in this class. He wouldn’t have minded, had Becca been in his class. Sadly, however, she wasn’t. She had AP English 6th period, the period after him. He watched as people immediately began choosing their partners and felt a sense of dread wash over him: he was going to be forced with whoever was left, no one ever picked him to do projects with. Who would want to be paired with the deaf kid?

To his surprise, he felt a tap on his shoulder, light and gentle. Turning, Sam saw Grizz standing next to him looking rather nervous.

“Hey, would you want to be my partner for the project?” Grizz spoke slowly.

Sam had grown rather comfortable with reading lips, but he couldn’t help but notice that Grizz’s were rather difficult to read, he must not use much diction in his words. He understood him though, and Grizz’s words confused Sam, and not because of his lack of diction.

“If you want, sure. But I don’t speak very well, it may make this more difficult for you.”

Sam had always felt insecure about his speaking, Campbell, his brother, having always had made fun of him for the way he talked.

“Oh no,” Grizz began, giving Sam a smile, “You speak fine. I’m pretty savvy with poetry and plays, and I noticed you always have good grades in this class. I thought we’d work well together.”

“Oh.” was all Sam could muster in that moment.

His interpreter was soon at his side, asking if he needed to be interpreted for. “No,” Sam said, “As long as you speak slowly and annunciate, I’ll be fine.” He gave Grizz a smile, and Grizz returned it.

***

They had exchanged numbers at the end of class, and Grizz felt nervous as hell at the idea of spending time alone with Sam. It had taken him a ball and a half of his own pride to ask Sam to be his partner in the first place, let alone to speak to him outside of class. Grizz had been pinning after Sam ever since he had met him and had been too shy and too anxious of what his friends would think to say a word to him.

He hated the way Sam got bullied, both for being deaf and for being gay. Especially from his own brother, Campbell. It took everything in him not to snap and go and rescue the handsome young ginger; but he couldn’t. His friends, while they were the best he had ever had, weren’t the most accepting group of people. He wasn’t even sure if they knew what the word ‘accepting’ meant, let alone how to spell it even. Grizz vowed on never seeing them again after high school, and he was planning to stick to that vow. They offered him no comfort or intelligent conversation; just a fun group of people to smoke with and blow off steam. He heard them use the word ‘gay’ as an insult to almost everything, even things that made no sense. Henceforth, he wasn’t comfortable exposing his secrets to them: Grizz was gay.

He had sat staring at Sam’s contact for over 20 minutes, debating on sending him a text to discuss when to work on their project. Though, he honestly just wanted to see him. He sighed, typing out a simple, “Hey, it’s Grizz.” and pressing send, feeling his heart rate increasing tenfold at the sight of the ‘delivered’ message. He nearly jumped out of his bones when he got a reply back, “Hey Grizz, I see you didn’t get the wrong number. What’s up?”

‘Oh god, what do I say?’ Grizz thought, he honestly didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Not much man, just was wondering when a good day would be for you to work on the project? And where?”

Grizz’s heart felt like it may burst at the seams from pounding so fast.

His phone dinged.

“How would tomorrow night work? My house? Campbell is supposed to be at some party at Harry’s, so the house will be mine.”

‘Shit, I was supposed to be there at the party with Clarke and Luke’, Grizz thought. But he found himself quickly typing, “That works. 8 sound good?”

Sam replied with a thumbs up.

***

It was now Saturday, 7pm, and Grizz was sure he was having a panic attack. He had changed his outfit at least five times and changed his hair from in his usual partial top bun, to hanging loose around his face. He finally settled on his hair down, his letterman jacket, a plain white t-shirt, and his letterman jacket and Vans. Sam’s house was 5 minutes down the road, but needless to say he arrived over 15 minutes early.

Sam felt nervous, he hadn’t had a guest over ever. Well, besides Becca of course. He had been Face Timing her for the past hour, asking how his hair looked, if his clothes were too tight or not tight enough. He knew he was overanalyzing things, but he couldn’t help it. Grizz had never spoken to him directly before. In class discussions, when Sam would speak up and have his interpreter help, Grizz would often second his opinions on whatever poem or book they had been discussing. But that was as far as speaking had gone. He admired his intelligence; he was far smarter than any of the jock-assholes he hung around with. Sam had caught Grizz staring at him a few times. But he was used to that, everyone loves to stare at the deaf kid.

Finally, at 7:56pm, Sam received a text from Grizz saying he had arrived. Grizz had been to the house only one time before, when Campbell had thrown a party when their parents were out of town. But Sam had stayed locked away in his room until Becca arrived to pick him up. Campbell liked to make a spectacle out of his deaf brother whenever he had parties.

Sam had never run that fast in his life to get to the door, but he quickly stopped to take a moment, he didn’t want to seem too eager.

When he opened the door, he noticed Grizz wasn’t suiting his usual topknot and stonner-esque clothing, but instead he looked much more cleaned up. His neck length black hair framed his face beautifully, his outfit showed that he actually had a shape, and as usual, he towered over Sam quite a bit. Though, Sam had never realized how tall Grizz actually was until now.

Sam welcomed Grizz inside and lead him up to his bedroom, suddenly feeling rather red in the face over the idea of inviting a guy up to his room. Sam’s room was heavily decorated; film and movie posters, art pieces, and picture frames scattered the walls. His large four poster bed sat in the center of the room against the back wall, across from the TV. His textbooks scatted across from it.

Sam turned to Grizz, “Well, did you have any particular poems or plays you had in mind?” He asked, sitting down on the bed.

Grizz shuffled on his feet awkwardly, looking down at the floor before backing up at Sam, his dark brown eyes meeting Sam’s light blue ones. “I was thinking Ginsberg, maybe. Though, most of his work would be considered too risqué for a high school English class.”

Sam couldn’t catch a few words, but he got the gist of what Grizz had said. “You can sit down, if you’d like. Ginsberg would be a good idea, lots of his poems people can’t seem to understand. But we should stay away from ‘howl’, I think the term ‘endless balls’ might make Mrs. Newberry upset.”

Grizz sat down besides Sam, a few feet away, a smile on his face. “You have great one-liners. But I agree. Though, I did have a question.”

Sam raised his eyebrow at Grizz for him to answer.

“Would you mind. I don’t know. Teaching me a few things in sign language?”

Sam chuckled lightly, “Why, are you planning on going deaf?”

“No,” Grizz began, laughing lightly, “I want to speak to you, well, sign to you. I want to be able to talk to you, you know, in your language.”

Sam felt his heart skip a beat, “I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few things. It might make things easier too.”

***

The next few hours were spent between the two boys; hand gestures being thrown, and signs being done the wrong way. Sam had been trying to teach Grizz how to sign ‘coffee’ as Grizz had requested, but he kept signing it wrong.

“Okay, this,” Sam began, showing Grizz the correct sign, “Is coffee. You just asked me to make out with you.”

Grizz’s face turned red before laughing nervously, “Oh god, I’m glad we cleared that one up.”

Sam laughed lightly, “Show me your name again, I want to see if you remember it.”

Grizz lifted his right hand, signing the ‘G’, ‘R’, and ‘I’ correctly before he fumbled. “How do I do ‘Z’ again?”

Sam reached across slowly, placing his hand over Grizz’s to form the right shape. Grizz felt his heart skip a beat, and his skin grow hot at the feeling of Sam touching him.

“Do that twice, and you signed your name.” Sam said quietly, catching Grizz’s gaze.

Grizz’s ears went red and he glanced down, letting his hand drop and pretending to check his phone. “It’s late, I should probably get going. But, thanks for the lessons. I’ll see you Monday?”

Sam nodded, actually looking forward to school.

***

Monday

Sam had been dealing with Campbell the whole of Saturday night and all of Sunday. Campbell had come home trashed, drunk and high off of god knows what. To avoid getting caught, he had gone to Sam. Having Sam pick him up and giving him hell all weekend. Sunday had been the worst part though. Once Campbell had sobered up, he was ruthless as ever. Basically, blackmailing Sam into not telling their parents, threatening him. He had punched him in the jaw, threatening for worse to come if Sam told anyone.

When Monday had rolled around, Sam was grateful. He got to see Grizz today, have lunch with Becca, and avoid Campbell for the first half of the day at least. He loved school for two reasons: learning and getting away from his brother. Now he had something else to look forward to, seeing Grizz in English during 5th period. Becca had tried to cover up his bruise this morning on the bus ride to school, but her foundation was way too dark for his pale skin tone.

The weekend and all of Monday morning seemed to drag on for Grizz. He had lied to his friend group to tell them he was sick this weekend. Which meant Monday he had to pretend to be too sick to go to football practice in order to make it believable. He lied, saying the only reason he had come to school today was because he had a test. Which, of course, was so far from the truth. He, however, could not tell them the truth.

By the time 5th period rolled around, Grizz was anxious to get to class; practically running the entire way there. When he arrived, he heard a commotion outside of the classroom, down the hall. He looked and saw Sam and his brother, Campbell, arguing. He noticed the way Sam’s signing was erratic and more dramatic than usual, and how Campbell was hardly signing, more like yelling and occasionally signing a single word. One word in particular made his blood boil.

‘Faggot.’

He watched, fuming, as Campbell stormed off down the hall, leaving Sam to slowly descend towards the classroom where Grizz stood in the doorway. As Sam came closer, he noticed the bruise on his jaw, poorly covered up by press powder that was way too dark.

Grizz stopped Sam, “Hey, you okay?” He spoke slowly.

Sam just nodded, his eyes filled with tears. “Yeah, I’m fine. Please drop it. Let’s go work on this thing.”

Grizz felt his heart break at the sight of Sam so emotional. So, broken looking. But he didn’t prod or poke, he simply followed him inside.

Sam sat in the back as usual, and Grizz sat in his normal seat as they waited for class to start.

Mrs. Newberry came in, looking rather tired, and followed by Sam’s interpreter. “Pair up with the partners you chose yesterday, I expect for you all to have chosen your poem today. I’ll be going around and writing down which one you’ve chosen.”

Grizz fidgeted for a moment before walking over to Sam, giving him a small smile as he sat next to him. He was grateful none of his friends were smart enough to be in this class, they would ask questions.

Grizz’s heart broke further at the distant look in Sam’s eyes. “I was thinking we could annotate ‘An Eastern Ballad’? It’s short, but it’s very up to interpretation.” He suggested, making sure to speak slowly and clearly.

Sam nodded, writing the name down in his notebook. “Ok.” He said quietly.

An idea popped into Grizz’s head. He quickly flagged down the teacher. “Mrs. Newberry? We chose An Eastern Ballad by Allen Ginsberg for our project. But I’m finding it difficult to concentrate in here with all the noise. Could me and Sam work in the library?”

Sam’s interpreter signed away Grizz’s words to Sam, and Sam felt rather confused.

The teacher nodded and smiled, writing down their poem and giving them both halls passes. She trusted them both, them being her star students. Grizz gave Sam a smile as they gathered their things and left the classroom, Sam’s interpreter leaving for his lunch break per Sam’s suggestion.

“What was that for?” Sam asked, stopping Grizz in the hallway once they were out of earshot.

“You needed space, I could tell. And people were being loud.”

“But the library is at the west end of the building and we’re heading towards the courtyard?” Sam questioned.

Grizz smirked. “That’s because we’re not going to the library. Follow me.”

Grizz gulped before taking Sam’s hand, leading him down the hallway. His touch felt warm and comforting, sending electricity up Grizz’s arms as they walked quickly. He relished in the feeling, never wanting to let go. Grizz purposely took the longest way to the back courtyard of the school just so he had an excuse to hold Sam’s hand a little longer.

When they reached the back exit of the school, Grizz lead Sam towards the tree lines, his designated smoking spot since freshman year. It was the only place they never checked for students. Ducking and crouching around and under branches and tree stumps, until they finally found their destination. A small circle was cleared, several stumps had been laid on their side for sitting.

“What do you think?” Grizz asked, turning to Sam.

He watched in adoration as Sam looked panicked, “What if we get caught?”

Grizz chuckled, “We won’t. Trust me. I’ve been coming here for three years now. Come on, sit.” He spoke, signing the word ‘sit’ as he did, remembering it from last night.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the older boys attempt to sign, he was actually trying. He sat on the log beside Grizz, wrapping his arms around himself. It was autumn now, and he felt cold. Having had left his jacket in his locker.

“Are you cold?” Grizz asked, only getting the signs ‘Are you’ out, not knowing the one for ‘cold’

Sam nodded, “I’m skinny, it happens.” His voice was quiet.

Grizz could still see the sadness in Sam’s eyes, and he felt the sudden urge to comfort him. It then occurred to him that he was wearing his hoodie underneath his Letterman jacket.

He took a deep breath and prayed to god that this would go well, taking off his jacket and standing, settling behind Sam and draping the heavy fabric over his shoulders lightly before returning to his own log to sit.

His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t help but notice the small blush spreading across Sam’s cheeks.

“Better?” Grizz asked.

“Much.”

***

Friday

A week had passed, and Grizz was figuring out more and more that his fondness of Sam had tuned into a full-blown infatuation. He had checked out a book at the library on sign language, only to find out that apparently, BSL and ASL were two totally different things. So, he had resulted to the internet to try to impress Sam a second time. This time it had been much more successful. He also had learned so much about Sam, and he adored every bit of it. Except for the more painful parts.

They sat at Sam’s house, Campbell was supposed to be out for the remainder of the evening. They had long since finished their project, but Grizz kept making excuses to see him. Such as: spelling errors, alternate theories of different meanings of the poems, forgetting his jacket there on ‘accident’.

“When I dream, I still dream with sound. But not new sounds.”

They had gotten on the subject of dreams this evening, it was 11pm and they hadn’t touched their project since 8:30.

“What would be a new sound?” Grizz asked, genuinely curious. His signing, while still rusty, had improved massively. Using finger spelling when he didn’t know a word.

“My voice. I remember how it sounded before. But I imagine it’s a little deeper now.”

Grizz chuckled at Sam’s dry humor. It endeared him.

“I wish I could hear yours.”

They were sitting side by side on Sam’s bed, and Grizz felt the air was thick all of a sudden. He had looked up a certain sign two days ago after he had the urge the first time, but he was horrified of asking. Scared of rejection.

He found himself glancing at the bed as he spoke quietly, “Can you. teach me one more phrase in sign language?” He asked hesitantly.

Sam nodded slowly, trying to read Grizz. He had never seen him like this, nervous, fidgety, tears in his eyes.

“How do you say, ‘kiss me’?”

Sam felt his heart skip a beat, pounding relentlessly against his chest.

Grizz hoped he hadn’t said it clearly enough, that fear of rejection quickly swooping in and seeping through him.

But all fear was washed away as Sam leaned in, cupping Grizz’s face in his soft hands gently, his lips hovering over his for a moment before he closed the gap between them. Grizz’s head swam with emotions, yet no coherent thoughts. The feeling of Sam’s lips against his own sent shockwaves through his body as he found himself kissing Sam back. His lips were soft as velvet, his kisses tender and sweet. He tasted of coffee and bubblegum, Grizz tasted of chocolate and marijuana.

The kiss grew deeper, Grizz finding himself getting lost in the feeling as his hand reached up to fold over Sam’s. All of the pint up emotions, the holding back; it had all come to a blissful end.

Sam’s tongue ghosted over Grizz’s bottom lip, causing shivers to run down Grizz’s spine as he allowed his jaw to lax and allow Sam access. He had never imagined letting someone else take control, but he didn’t mind it at all.

Before he knew it, Sam was on top of him, sitting on his lap as he kissed him feverishly. Grizz had to suppress a moan at the friction being created by Sam’s rocking hips; knowing that they weren’t alone in the household. He let his hands travel up Sam’s sides, his fingertips gently grazing over every muscle and curve he could from underneath his shirt. He longed to go further, but he didn’t want to cause Sam to feel pressured. He tried mumbling his name, then he remembered he couldn’t hear him.

Placing a hand on Sam’s chest, he gently pushed him upwards. “Sam, we don’t have to keep going if you’re not ready.” He said, making sure to annunciate.

Sam suddenly looked bashful. “I’ve never. I’m a virgin.” He said suddenly, signing the words with shaky hands. “I know you’ve had others.”

Grizz felt his heart break. He was right, he had had others. But never another man. Only one other girl had he had sex with, a few he had fooled around with.

“I don’t mind. But I don’t want to disappoint you or mess up. And I don’t want this to be some sort of joke or experiment to you when it isn’t for me.”

Sam suddenly looked heartbroken. And Grizz felt like he was.

He sighed, sliding out from underneath Sam and sitting in front of him. “Sam, that’s not what this is to me. I promise.” He began, singing a few words here and there. “I’ve never… I’ve never been with another guy. But I can tell that neither of us are ready for this quite yet.”

Sam’s eyes were filled with tears. “Do you not want me?”

Grizz felt his heart shatter at his words. His voice sounded strained and broken. Grizz places a hand on Sam’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Of course, I do, Sam. But I don’t want to rush into anything. Okay?”

Sam’s eyes benighted slightly. “Okay.”

“Hey Sam? Would you want to come to the homecoming game tomorrow? See me play?”

***

Saturday

(Warning: some cursing, derogatory words, and a physical altercation is about to occur. Reader discretion is advised)

Grizz felt more anxious at this moment than he had before any football game. Not because the team they were against was hard to beat, far from it actually. No, it was because he knew Sam was watching. Sam had told him that he had never been to a game before, sports weren’t his thing. But, for Grizz, he had made an exception and drug Becca along with him.

‘Wait, so Grizz asked you to kiss him?’ Becca signed to Sam as they took their seats on the bleachers.

Sam nodded, ‘he asked me how to sign ‘kiss me’ and so I kissed him.’

Becca had taken to not speaking along with her signing for this particular conversation, wanting to honor Grizz’s privacy as well as her best friends.

‘I never pegged Grizz to be gay. And then what? He just, left? Or did something happen?’

Sam shuffled slightly in his seat, unsure of what to say.

‘Oh my god! Did you two sleep together?’ Becca was wearing a shit eating grin.

Sam smacked her arm playfully. ‘No! Well, almost. But he stopped it.’

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he continued, ‘he said he didn’t want to rush things between us, said he hadn’t been with a guy before and since I was a virgin, he didn’t want either of us to go too far when we weren’t ready.’

Becca smiled, ‘That’s a good sign!’ Sam gave her a questioning look so she continued, ‘If he had just been curious or wanted an experiment or something, he would have either had sex with you and left or stopped it after a few kisses then left. Not stayed and hung out all weekend! He likes you, Sam. Though, now that I think about it, I saw it coming.’

‘What? What are you talking about? You said you never pegged him as gay?’

Becca laughed, ‘Exactly. Gay. I never said I didn’t see him checking you out or looking at you longingly from across the cafeteria. He could be bi. You never know. Now shush! The game is starting.’

Not much to either of their surprise, West Ham had won, 12-0. The crowd cheered, and Sam and Becca quickly escaped to the parking lot to avoid the heavy crowd. Sam decided he’d send Grizz a text to congratulate him before leaving.

To Grizz: Hey! Great job tonight! Me and Becca are headed home, don’t celebrate too hard!

Sent.

Incoming text from Grizz: Hey, Luke’s hosting a party to celebrate at his house. You two should come!

Sam suddenly felt queasy. He had avoided parties for all of high school, always being made a spectacle and left out. But he wanted to see Grizz and congratulate him in person.

He sighed.

To Grizz: Okay, send me the address and I’ll stop by.

He pleaded with Becca to go with him, in case he had no one to talk to. But she said she couldn’t due to procrastinated homework but agreed to drop him off.

Sam could feel the pulsating bass from the loud music all the way out on the front patio of Luke’s house. His house was massive, expensive, and way too crowded by the looks of it. Colored lights flashed from inside as he stood there awkwardly. He had the urge to text Becca to turn around and pick him up but decided against it. Instead texting Grizz

To Grizz: I’m here.

Sent.

Incoming text from Grizz: I’m in the kitchen!

Sam sighed, shoving his pocket into his phone and heading towards the open front door.

Grizz had had two beers since arriving, determined to enjoy the night of their victory. But he was more looking forward to seeing Sam. He wasn’t sure how to react to him though, or how to approach him. It had suddenly occurred to Grizz that only a few people knew about them being partners on this project, let alone anything more than that.

He saw a familiar face in the crowd: Campbell’s. He never understood why Campbell came to the football parties until last year, when he had caught Campbell selling coke to a few freshmen. He had always creeped Grizz out and rubbed him the wrong way. But then again, Campbell rubbed everyone the wrong way.

He stood leant against the kitchen island, a beer in hand, waiting for to see if Sam would show. Finally, his phone buzzed, and he felt the sudden, yet now familiar, feeling of his heart skipping a beat.

He waited patiently now, watching the front door through the open floor plan kitchen for Sam. When he saw him enter, he felt a smile creep onto his face. But his smile soon faded, noting how horrified and uncomfortable Sam looked, not to mention the stares that were being tossed his way as he entered the house and made his way to the kitchen. Grizz gulped, thankful that the rest of the guys were elsewhere around the house as Sam entered the kitchen.

“Congrats!” Sam spoke, singing along.

Grizz gave him a small smirk, “thanks!” He signed, “I didn’t think you’d come!”

Sam shrugged, “I wanted to congratulate you in person. And, I was curious as to what the fuss was on this whole ‘high school party’ thing was about.”

Grizz chuckled lightly at Sam, “Well, have a drink. There are beers in the fridge.”

He grabbed him one and they stood in silence for a while. Well, as far as speaking goes. The house was booming with noise. Grizz’s phone was blowing up, upon answering it, he had at least 20 texts from Clarke telling him that there were people who wanted to congratulate him.

He turned to Sam, “I’ll be right back, a few people want to see me. Just one second okay?” He asked, signing what he could along with his words.

Sam nodded and gave him a smile, sipping on his drink. It tasted like shit, but he pretended to like it as Becca had advised him to do.

He suddenly felt exposed and alone as Grizz had left him. Without Becca as well, he felt out of place even further. Sam pulled out his phone to text her, telling her that he was indeed alive. But that might soon change as he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Campbell. He towered over Sam, his head cocked to the side and a dangerous smirk was displayed on his face.

“Funny seeing you here, brother.” Campbell said, not bothering to sign.

Campbell knew how to sign. But he only ever used curse words.

“What do you want, Campbell?” Sam said, signing along. He tried to keep his stance firm and tall, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

Campbell smiled and smacked the solo cup from Sam’s grasp, “Why are you even here, huh fag? Come to check out the football players or something?” He signed the entire sentence.

Sam wiped the splash of beer from his cheek, “fuck off, Campbell. It’s none of your business.”

Campbell chuckled to himself, shoving Sam roughly against the fridge. “I just want a night to myself! Is that too much to ask! There’s a reason I go out, you know. To get away from your disgusting face. Your intolerable presence. Ever since you were born, I’ve been forced to look after your sorry ass. Now you have the nerve to show up on my territory? You’re lucky I don’t- “

His words were cut off by Grizz interjecting, “Campbell! Is there a problem here?”

Sam looked at Grizz, a look that said, ‘leave it’. But Grizz was far from leaving it.

“A problem? No, Grizz. Not at all.” Campbell said, turning back to Sam. “Just stay out of my way, huh fag?” He shoved him roughly again.

He tried turning to walk away, but Grizz had seen enough. Yanking Campbell’s arm roughly, Grizz pulled Campbell towards him, “Watch your mouth! You’re not a football player, and I don’t remember anyone inviting you to a single party we’ve ever had. Piss off, now.”

Sam stood there shocked, he could barely make out Grizz’s words, but felt suddenly honored at the protection he was providing him.

“Lighten up, Grizz. I’m just teaching my Fag brother here a lesson, making sure he doesn’t check any of you guys out- “

Campbell’s words were cut off by a harsh punch being flown into his teeth, by none other than Grizz.

“I said watch your fucking mouth!” Grizz shouted, shoving Campbell further away from Sam and himself.

Campbell lunged at Grizz, Sam trying to intervene as he threw punches towards Grizz. But it was futile, two testosterones filled, 6ft tall men hurtling punches at each other was too much for Sam to stop. So, he did the only thing he could think of to do, he screamed.

A deaf person scream, or so he’d been told, is unlike any sound there is. It’s loud and pitchy, often deafening for others. And Sam knew it.

Heads turned, and Grizz stopped for a moment. But that had been a mistake. Campbell hurtled a punch at Grizz, catching him in the eye. Grizz went to attack again but was stopped when he saw Campbell take out his pocket knife. But Sam’s scream had not only caught Grizz’s attention, it had also caught the whole houses attention. Soon enough, the rest of the guard had got ahold of Campbell, knocking his knife from his hands and holding him back. Luke was holding Grizz back.

“Touch him again and I swear I’ll knock your teeth in!” Grizz screamed, “Don’t you dare ever come into one of my parties and speak to him like that! Ever! Especially not in front of me!”

He thrashed back and forth in Luke’s hold.

“Oh look!” Campbell yelled, “Sam’s got himself a boyfriend! And he has a fucking topknot!”

The guard quickly tossed Campbell to the curb, quite literally. Sam, however, rushed to Grizz’s aid as he sat in a kitchen chair, cradling his eye.

Grizz was breathing heavily as Sam found an ice pack, placing it gently over his swollen eye.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Sam said quietly, crouching down into Grizz’s view.

“For you, yeah I did.”

***

Friday

The rumors about Grizz’s relationship with Sam had spread like wildfire, much to Campbell’s help. He had been telling graphic and untrue stories about what he had supposedly caught the pair doing. And it was all taking a toll on Grizz. His friends had questioned him relentlessly, people stared and whispered as he walked down the hallways. He had avoided Sam, including his messages, all week. He didn’t know what to say to him, or anyone for that matter. But today they were supposed to present their project.

When 5th period rolled around, Grizz was tempted to skip. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to nor abandon Sam. So, he came early.

Sam was waiting for him, sitting in his usual spot near the back of the classroom. His vibrant blue eyes caught Grizz’s, and he felt his heart melt. Grizz May have been sporting a black eye, but Sam looked somehow more broken.

He approached him slowly. “Hey.” He said simply.

“Hi. So, do you want to do the speaking? I made the power point, so it seems fair. I’m not in the speaking mood today.” Sam said quietly, his voice distant. His signing even seemed distant.

Grizz simply nodded and sat beside him, the tension between the two seemed to be toxic as they waited their turn. When the teacher announced their names, Grizz made his way up to the front of the class, Sam following suit as he plugged his USB into the teacher’s computer and loaded up the PowerPoint.

Grizz suddenly felt shy, exposed standing in front of the class. Though he never had issues with it before, everything seemed to have changed.

“So, for our poem we chose ‘An Eastern Ballad’ by Allen Ginsberg. Also known as ‘song’. Ginsberg was one of the Beat poets in the 50’s through the early 90’s. Okay so the poem goes, ‘Winds around the beaches blow:

Things being as they are, although

Half clearly understood, and I

Uncurious is mystery;

Such thoughts as once were my despair,

-The frantic sea, the silent air,

The changing moon and fridge shore-

I find delight me more and more.

I had not dreamed the sea so deep,

The earth so dark; so long my sleep,

I have become another child.

I wake to see the world go wild.’

“Now, there are lots of ways to interpret Ginsberg’s work. He used to often say that he never had any meaning for most of it, and that the reader should interpret it. It’s well known at this point that Ginsberg used psychedelic drugs to jumpstart his writing and to discover his style. So, it’s safe to assume that that is what he means in this poem by becoming another child and his soul being awoken.” Grizz began.

Sam’s interpreter was signing along for Sam to understand, even though Sam knew what Grizz was supposed to be saying. However, he didn’t see the plot twist that was about to happen.

“But, upon reflecting and rereading this poem, I have another interpretation. If you read Ginsberg’s letters up until this poem, he talks about realizing his sexuality… he uhm. He realized he was gay and how that realization opened his eyes. I believe, that this poem isn’t about realizing and noticing the world through the use of drugs. But it is about waking up and seeing the world through new eyes upon realizing who you are, as a person.”

Grizz was shaking, and Sam was speechless.

“That’s a rather interesting interpretation, Grizz. I assume by the two different annotations that the first was Sam’s interpretations and the second was yours?” Mrs. Newberry asked, easing an eyebrow.

Grizz nodded slowly, his eyes filled with tears.

“Mr. Eliot. What do you think of Grizz’s interpretation of this poem?”

Elliot gestured for his interpreter to speak for him as he signed l, “I can see where he is coming from. But I disagree. Evidence shows that this is a spiritual awakening, caused by Ginsberg’s drug use at the time. But, Grizz likes to read into things.”

Grizz felt his heart plunge.

“Well, very well done you two. You may have a seat.”

Sunday evening, November 21st

Weeks went by, Sam ignoring Grizz’s texts, Grizz ignoring the questions from the guard and his other friends. It was soon late November, and the pair had not spoken. The winter formal was coming up, and Sam asked Becca to be his date.

“You know I hate those things. Besides, I’m not who you want to go with. Ask him, he’s been texting you nonstop for over a month now. It’s kind of annoying.”

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes as they sat in Becca’s bedroom. ‘You know he wouldn’t risk his reputation going with me. Besides, you’re my best friend, I want you to go with me.’

Becca sighed, “Sam, talk to him. I hate school dances, you love them. It’s your senior year, go with the guy you want to go with, not your beard.”

Sam felt dejected. And conflicted. He refused to make a spectacle out of himself or Grizz. Grizz was obviously not ready for this yet, and that was partially Sam’s fault that it ended this way. Or, at least, that’s how Sam felt.

Sunday evening, November 21st

Grizz had been fidgeting in his room for over an hour now, anxiety coursing through his veins. When his mother called for dinner, he knew it was time.

Making his way downstairs and to the kitchen table, he rubbed the sweat off of his hands as he sat down across from his father. He was nervous, really fucking nervous. But he had to do this, he had been holding it back for too long.

He watched anxiously as his mother laid out their dinner on the table before sitting down.

Now or never, he thought to himself. “Mom, dad. I have to tell you something.”

***

Monday, November 22nd

Sam walked begrudged to his locker, spinning the dial around until the lock came undone. As he opened the metal door, a small slip of neon green paper floated to the ground from inside the door.

It was a note. He unfolded it and read it to himself:

Sam, the winter formal is next Saturday, I hope to see you there. I’ll be wearing green and pink.

-Grizz

Sam felt his heart stop momentarily. This couldn’t be serious, could it?

Sam, being himself, had arrived at the dance right as it started. Only to find out his ticket had already been paid for. He wore a white button down with a rose gold vest and a plaid neck tie. His ginger hair styled neatly on top of his head. He felt anxious as he made his way into the gym: lights were hung here and there of all kinds. Fairly lights, that changed color, random lamps and chandeliers. All fashioned in blue, silver, and white. The tables were dressed in silver table cloths with blue placemats and white flowers. Student council had gone all us for this one. He could feel the bass of the music through his shoes and he anxiously made his way through the crowd, finding a lone spot near the back at an unoccupied table. He suddenly longed for Becca. He had a bad feeling about this.

Time rolled on, and soon 45 minutes had passed with no sign of Grizz. He hadn’t shown, and Sam had given up and lost patience. He rose to his feet and began shuffling through the crowded dance floor. He was stopped in his tracks when he felt a firm, but gentle hand grasps his wrist. Turning, he saw Grizz. Towering above him in all of his glory. Wearing a neon green button down and a plaid bow tie in similar fashion to his own. Sam couldn’t hold back his smile.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Sam said, taking a step closer to Grizz.

Grizz could feel eyes on the pair, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Neither did I.”

Without another word, Grizz pulled Sam into him, pressing his lips against his. Sam happily kissed him back, standing on his tippy toes to reach him.

#sam eliot #sam x grizz #grizzam #grizz #grizz the society #the society #netlix #netflix #fanfic #writing #mine #gay #fluff

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trans-advice · 4 years

Note

Hey, for the past 5 or so years I have privately identified as nonbinary or not conforming to any gender, and even recently requested that my boss and coworkers use they/them pronouns. About a month ago I stumbled across a "gender critical" blog and started reading it. I know it's a bad idea to engage with trolls, especially when it will impact your sense of self, but I felt restless that my existence was being debated and wanted to hear the other side. Now I am feeling confused (1 o 2 asks)

I’m feeling confused and gross, wondering if all this time I have been actually working against my own feminist beliefs, or if I’m just being naive and getting indoctrinated. Like,I worry about me being a female who simply didn’t subscribe to gender stereotypes, tricking myself into thinking I"wasn’t like the other girls". I have also been wondering about what it means to identify into an oppressed group, and why we can’t talk about it without being dismissed as a dumb TERF. (1 o 2 asks) Thx

— Eve: CW: long post, possibly rambley, could’ve used better editing, transphobia, “gender critical”, recuperation, discussion of “terf” politics, recuperation of liberation movements, politics, oppression, rape culture, anti-fascist, anti-capitalist,

So basically I have tried for almost 4 weeks to write a response detailing this stuff. however it’s gotten too unwieldy. i tried to condense it, but this was as close as i got. it’s practically like 3 drafts back to back. I couldn’t figure out the differences & when i saw similarities it seemed significantly different enough. so I’m not editing any further. here’s a mindvomit. i wish i had this more polished but I can’t do that & i didn’t get a response.

however I’m going to make a history book recommendation, a referral to gendercensus2020, and i need to emphasize that these are much more like personal beliefs & not generally the tone of this blog which aims to give advice & positivity, while this is inherently political, the good bad & ugly. and there are trans people of various persuasions so I don’t want alienate them. i dissecting some ideologies that are transphobic, how they became that, how they got recuperated, and how you can find the same concerns being addressed. I’m answering this because it totally makes sense to me that this is asked in good faith & I want to respect your concerns & show that there are better methods of liberation activism that are trans affirmative, or at least must become & develop into such.

So I’m going to recommend the book “Transgender History (Second Edition)” by Susan Stryker, which I have put on our blog’s google drive account, so hence a link. It goes into the historic common ground between the feminists & LGBT+ peoples. It also gets into historic movements. And on top of that, the first chapter is literally a list of terminology deconstructing gender, which is also helpful for analyzing topics feminism analyzes..

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1IvCwNvCJ_EiDmOer4zS8SbFGz4m-WDJ1

another thing you need to know regarding the label lesbian back in the day is that it was a catchall for any woman who didn’t have sex with men. now granted, this was a cisnormative understanding, but basically lesbians included celibate women, asexual women, and of course bisexual women in addition to gay women.

basically the normal advice of wait til you have your own money to have sex, wait til your mid 20s, don’t rely on a man to pay your bills etc, all of this comes from political lesbianism, which was like be celibate or else have sex that doesn’t involve sperm. (granted, communities cannot be monoliths if they want to be ecosystems, like any movement label there are different interpretations made by members of it, and therefore there are some strands that uphold a homonormative appreciation for conversion therapy. perhaps a middle ground for understanding how that happened is that joke about macho sexuality purity “if a man masturbates with his hand, he’s using a man’s hand to get off, then it’s gay.” granted, there was of course a political/economic reason to this, but still, it seems in terms of history that this joke was considered actually legitimate.)

“lesbian” was a catchall for women who didn’t have sex with men. this included ace, celibate & gynephiliac women. part of the reason these communities were conflated again had to do with the economic pressures to get married which I’ll detail a few paragraphs from now. (while this next thought could be incorrect because I did just learn about ‘compulsory heterosexuality" a month ago, I think the vestiges of those economic pressures are basically the gist of “comphet”.) the goal of political lesbian as well as lesbian separatism was to build an economy/get money that didn’t require submission to patriarchy, via marriage, pregnancy etc. so basically in an effort to build like support networks, “men” were shunned as much as possible.

however these networks ended up replicating capitalism, (partly due to oppression against communes & other anti-capitalist activities) which then replicated the oppressions of capitalism. it makes sense that transphobia had formed of assimilation/respectability politics for such feminists. To quote from the criticism section of the Wikipedia article on the women’s liberation movement.

> The philosophy practised by liberationists assumed a global sisterhood of support working to eliminate inequality without acknowledging that women were not united; other factors, such as age, class, ethnicity, and opportunity (or lack thereof) created spheres wherein women’s interests diverged, and some women felt underrepresented by the WLM.[208] While many women gained an awareness of how sexism permeated their lives, they did not become radicalized and were uninterested in overthrowing society. They made changes in their lives to address their individual needs and social arrangements, but were unwilling to take action on issues that might threaten their socio-economic status.[209] Liberationist theory also failed to recognize a fundamental difference in fighting oppression. Combating sexism had an internal component, whereby one could change the basic power structures within family units and personal spheres to eliminate the inequality. Class struggle and the fight against racism are solely external challenges, requiring public action to eradicate inequality.[210] >

birth control helped to liberate women & that accommodation/handicap for reproductive health disabilities (disability is merely inability to do something that’s Normative. so if having a uterus, pregnancy/menstruation/having breasts etc aren’t considered normal, which is especially common in a patriarchal society for these examples, then it’s disability.) It should be said that due to the desire for bodily autonomy to regulate our own body parts, as well as a desire to manage our fertility & sterilization, the transgender movement has a lot in common with feminism’s female-as-disability movement.)

it should also be noted that before the medical transitioning became accessible that us trans people relied a lot more on social transitioning than medical transitioning. it should also be mentioned that the medical procedures are available & used by cisgender people too.

that being said, since both cis females & transgender women were denied birth control etc, there was a very intense fear of impregnation happening & trans women going back in the closet not only to get money under patriarchy but also because life raising a kid is hard. like if you’ve ever seen “the stepford wives” & look at how the ally husband betrays his feminist wife, then that should clue us into how a lack of birth control scared us.

the problem with the school of feminism that emphasizes physiological sex over gender identity (in order to deny the existence of trans people with female-organs or not) is that it doesn’t account for birth control & how that’s affected the landscape, the economy etc, the revolutionary impact of birth control basically. it also ignores that trans people & cis women feminists have the same goals when it comes to getting freedoms about reproductive rights & bodily autonomy. therefore it ends up being transphobic & wanting to run back into the times when we didn’t have abortion access because they want to hurt us.

That being said though, we need to have birth control & more in order to help liberate trans people too, so if somewhere doesn’t have birth control, then we’re not doing well either because it’d pay a lot more to be transphobic (which of course it doesn’t now when we have birth control & various medical & other technologies). i think what I’m trying to say is that similar to disability accomodations clashing with each other, if we of the women’s liberation, the trans liberation, and the gay & lesbian liberation, and the bisexual & ace liberation get stranded then we’re all doomed. granted we might be doing that due to defensiveness with hostility similar to how in the 1980s feminism got very conservative in USA & how some transgender people get spared in systems with strict gender conformity & anticolonialist values, it’d be wrong to say that all our liberations are in conflict with each other. they can be mishandled, but ultimately, safety still tends to favor cisheteropatriarchal people. internalized patriarchal thinking is like internalized queerphobia, and so forth.

I want to emphasize that it is relatively easy for transgender people especially nonbinary people to find gender critical discourse somewhat appealing. Here’s why: TERFs & Gender Critical discourse is agender-normative disability discourse regarding reproductive health & other AFAB organs. (a disability is being unable to do things that society considers normative. so if you can’t drive & your locale de facto requires it, then that’s a disability. also in usa you’ll find that pregnancy & disability are the main things welfare programs prioritize. a pregnancy can be harmful, but can be easier with the right monitoring etc. which again is the same with disability.)

the problem though is that they then insist on misgendering you as one of the binary genders based on objectification of your body (specifically, “morphology”). point being, because you feel dysphoric over being misgendered as something nonbinary as being mislabeled as cisgender, this implies that you are indeed transgender.

https://gendercensus.com/post/612238605773111296/the-gender-census-2020-is-now-open

—

Now to be clear, there are historical economic considerations that made the decisions to specialize on the intersectionality of cisgender AFABs, but the economy & technology has changed. Basically marriage back in the day was economically necessary because there was effectively no birth control available. Therefore, to get child support etc, required getting the father to pay the consequences. However, marriage was very much a chattel property institution, marital rape was still legal, and women couldn’t get credit etc in our own names.

At the same time, similar to birth control being unavailable, hormones & other procedures for medically transitioning trans people were unavailable as well, which meant social transitioning & wardrobe etc were the main methods of affirming our gender. however, we sometimes got lucky & had a doctor write us a note affirming our gender & sometimes we got even luckier & govts accepted this. this however required getting labelled sick & begging doctors to give us treatment & getting money for this since insurance companies etc still discriminated against transgender people even when we agreed to have our gender identity situation labelled as sick & medically necessary. (similarly insurance companies still refuse to cover abortions & so do some doctors & hospitals.)

So this meant that AFABs were concerned about getting hijacked via impregnation. Because of the patriarchal economics of the whole thing, people were afraid of “the stepford wives” repeating itself in their own lives, where the mind can only handle what the ass can stand would mean trans women would go back into the closet.

Granted, that’s a bit misrepresentative of trans women & trans people because trans people & cis women who can get pregnant do have a lot more in common. we take the same meds, go to the same clinics, menopause etc gets taken due to distress over how our bodies work, etc. then again, how would trans AMAB people have gotten the money for child support?

historically & still to this day we basically had to beg doctors for the ability to get hormones to get a surgery to get a gender marker change & so on, which granted, what we trans people had available to us varied from locale to locale because it required collaborations of trans people, doctors, and the local govts & especially their police stations. again, before roe v wade abortion providers were super underground & secretive & there were specialized units at police stations for hunting down patients & providers under the charge of “murder”. it’s the same dynamics.

seriously trans people & people with bodies that can get pregnant, menstruate, menopause, etc, we go to the same clinics! women’s health clinics take trans patients, planned parenthood takes trans patients, do i need to go any further on how trans people & feminists have the same interests regarding reproductive health?

—

as for political lesbianism:

basically the normal advice of wait til you have your own money before having sex, wait til your mid 20s, don’t rely on a man to pay your bills etc, all of this comes from political lesbianism, which was like be celibate or else have sex that doesn’t involve sperm. (i’m not sure what the conditions were like surrounding not piv sex among the straights, and therefore what the likelihood of avoiding piv sex was. I do know that rape culture was much more heavily normalized than it is now.)

“Lesbian” was a catchall for women who didn’t have sex with men. this included: - ace, - celibate - bisexual - gay women. Part of the reason these communities were conflated again had to do with the economic pressures to get married, (while this next statement could be incorrect because i did just learn about ‘compulsory heterosexuality" a month ago, i think the vestiges of those economic pressures such as weddings are basically the gist of “comphet”.)

The goal of Political Lesbianism as well as Lesbian Separatism was to build an economy that didn’t require submission to patriarchy, such as that of marriage, pregnancy etc. In efforts to build like support networks, “men” were shunned as much as possible.

However these networks, (partly due to lacking radicalization) ended up replicating capitalism, (partly due to oppression against communes & other anti-capitalist activities) which then replicated the oppressions of capitalism. It makes sense that transphobia had formed of assimilation/respectability politics for such feminists. To quote from the criticism section of the Wikipedia article on the women’s liberation movement.

> “The philosophy practised by liberationists assumed a global sisterhood of support working to eliminate inequality without acknowledging that women were not united; other factors, such as age, class, ethnicity, and opportunity (or lack thereof) created spheres wherein women’s interests diverged, and some women felt underrepresented by the WLM.[208] While many women gained an awareness of how sexism permeated their lives, they did not become radicalized and were uninterested in overthrowing society. They made changes in their lives to address their individual needs and social arrangements, but were unwilling to take action on issues that might threaten their socio-economic status.[209] Liberationist theory also failed to recognize a fundamental difference in fighting oppression. Combating sexism had an internal component, whereby one could change the basic power structures within family units and personal spheres to eliminate the inequality. Class struggle and the fight against racism are solely external challenges, requiring public action to eradicate inequality.[210]”

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ecto-american · 4 years

Text

White and Nerdy

Holiday Truce Gift for @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy based on their request for Vlad’s slice of life outside of the Fentons.

On FFN and AO3

Summary: Contrary to belief, Vlad does have hobbies other than spinning in a fancy chair with his cat thinking of evil plots. For example, every Tuesday he dedicates the day to hanging out with his best friend as they both indulged in their crippling, long term addictions: World of Warcraft, with a pinch of Dungeons and Dragons.

Rating: K+

Warnings: Some cursing

Other Notes: Everybody is gay or trans, and you can't stop me.

Running a multi billion dollar empire was stressful, to say the very least. And of course, when you own those businesses, it was easy to work as much or as little as you pleased. Not that Vlad ever found himself taking off too much from work. No, no. He loved running his empire, the meetings and decisions. Whenever he took too much time off, the halfa found himself restless. Vlad craved a full schedule, and he needed things to look forward to.

Though of course, he wasn't all work and no play. There was one day of the week Vlad always, with the exception of business trips, took off or would take easy: Tuesdays. Tuesday was raid day.

And on that Tuesday morning, Vlad paid no mind as he could faintly hear the front door being unlocked and closed. His best friend, his actual best friend (NOT that fool Jack), had keys and was permitted to come over whenever he pleased.

Vlad continued his morning routine lazily, carefully shaving and grooming his beard to his preferred style. Brushed and styled his hair in it's normal ponytail, and he dressed himself. Any other day of the week, Vlad would be putting on his Italian brand name custom suits, always freshly pressed and ironed by a maid. But today was raid day, and so he instead was wearing sweatpants and an oversized Packers sweatshirt. He slipped on his football slippers, and he went downstairs to his computer room.

Not his office, which was expensively decorated with only the most fine and formal, shelves lined with important titles. His computer room, which was expensively decorated for a whole other reason. As he opened the door, he smiled at the shelves full of figurines of his favorite characters, accessories adorning the walls. He knew that most would have a stroke, since he never kept anything in the original box, despite having the entire collection of figurines, statues, busts, everything that would make the most dedicated fan drooling. That was simply stupid in Vlad's eyes, it was made to be admired and displayed, not kept in a box. If any were to break, he could simply buy another, no issue.

They lined shelves that were all over the brightly lit room, with cabinets below that held their boxes. While he didn't keep them in boxes, he of course, still kept them. There were also some books, mostly related to the lore but also game guides and manuals.

He admired his collection for a moment before turning his attention to the middle aged man getting comfortable in one of the three computer setups Vlad had, the far left one. All the setups were, of course, only the best and most advanced, with each desktop having three monitors and leather chairs. Each desk was a large U shaped one, set pressed to each other and near the back wall for the outlets.

"Hey, morning!" Edward Lancer greeted him warmly. Both men were morning people, clear by their chosen professions and schedules. Ed was in his own lounge wear, sweatpants with crocs and an old college t-shirt. "I brought McDonald's." He gestured to the bag that was left on Vlad's desk, alongside a cup of coffee clearly from Vlad's own kitchen.

Had it been any person other than Ed, Vlad would have been mortified over McDonald's. But even billionaires couldn't resist their breakfast, and it was only on Tuesday that he was able to privately indulge. Ed never judged.

"Thank you!" Vlad replied brightly. Ed had his own meal in front of him, sitting facing away from the keyboard as he took his time eating. Vlad joined him, sitting at his desk and doing the same, allowing them to talk face to face as they ate.

"Are you ready to fight the dragon later?" Ed questioned as he cut up his pancakes. "Since we're resting, I've been trying to figure out what spells I should prepare for the day to fight it." Vlad snorted, shaking his head.

"Knowing Harriet, she'll likely make the dragon a red herring that goes down with ease and dick us over with the actual boss that'll be invincible to half our party because it's immune the attacks that destroy the damn dragon," Vlad replied before taking a big sip of coffee. Burning hot, but delicious. Ed chuckled in amusement.

"She's always made it fair though," Ed replied. "Her boss battles are never unbeatable."

"Yeah, but she makes every campaign some Water Temple level meets 90s point and click mystery game difficulty and outrageous puzzle solving," Vlad grumbled.

"I like it, it's good critical thinking practice," Ed replied. "I've used some of her puzzles in the games I DM for the students. Really makes them think rather than just attacking everything. I swear, one of my students, Nathan, he just loves rolling to attack every NPC I make."

"Sounds like a ninny," Vlad said as he took a bite of his greasy fast food. The best part about the summer was Ed not having to teach. They could dedicate the whole day to hanging out. Of course, Ed took up a summer job, but he was able to secure Tuesdays off.

"A bit, but a good kid," Ed always spoke fondly of his students. "You should come in sometime for a game, it'd be fun."

"I think I might," Vlad agreed thoughtfully.

Of course, going to Casper High was always hit or miss. Daniel was there, and it was always nice to be able to check in on the little badger. But as mayor and a billionaire that funded several scholarships, it would be nice publicity to go and have some face time with kids. Many of his high school interns had graduated and left for college, and he was in the market for some new ones. Might be able to find some promising new future employees too. Hm, he'd have to see where he could fit a Casper High visit into his schedule when school began. Vlad would worry about that another time.

"How's their gay club?" Vlad questioned. "You guys just formed one, right?"

"It's got a steady group of kids who come in, very good kids. Many have supportive parents now," Ed explained. The teacher had paused, giving a small sigh. "It's a double edge sword for me. On one hand, I'm so grateful that so many of them can be who they are. But...I don't know. I hate that we never got to have that."

Vlad nodded understandingly. He poked at his breakfast, feeling hunger temporarily leave him as those depressive memories came back.

"I'll forever be thankful that Mother wanted to apologize and make amends before she died," Vlad spoke. "But I'm sorry she missed out on so much because of what I had to do to become happy. At least she passed away recognizing me as her son."

The last memories of his mother was depressing. Elderly and sick with cancer, even with all the money Vlad began to throw at her once she reached out to him after nearly twenty years of refusing to speak to him. Whether his sister wore her down, or it was deathbed regrets. It was an emotional two years, being able to see his mom again.

"Mine's in better shape than me, and they're still calling me by my old name," Ed complained. "I don't think it'll ever change. I try to keep a relationship, cause of the kids, but I don't know if it's even worth it anymore."

Silence hung in the air as they separately mourned for what it all cost them. Of course, it was worth it. Absolutely worth it to be happy, to be comfortable and finally as they should be, but it didn't make the cost any less harsh of a price to pay.

"Their generation will be better," Vlad said firmly. Ed nodded in agreement. "Please let me know if any of them need binders or anything of the sorts."

"I will. I've been thinking about starting a clothing drive for them," Ed explained. "I can probably get the school on board with it if we market it as for the lower income students too. Dressing how you want makes a big difference."

"You get the details sorted out, and I will absolutely financially back you," Vlad promised. Ed smiled.

"Thank you. I may start working on that to propose for this school year," Ed mused.

For the bumbling oaf that Jack was, Vlad had to admit that he was a very loving and caring man. A bit too caring, honestly, it was a bit of a flaw. He had immediately accepted Vlad, and later on his own son. It always warmed him to remember that Daniel had two parents that had immediately gotten him everything a young trans man could ever need. No hesitation, no questioning.

Ed took a final bite of his breakfast before humming happily. He wiped his hands as he pushed to toss his empty containers into the trash can.

"Enough being sad, let's raid," he suggested. Vlad hurriedly took his last two bites before nodding in agreement.

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The raid was broken up with greasy Chinese takeout for lunch, brought to them by a staff. Another guilty pleasure Vlad rarely indulged in. Then, of course, it was a return to games before they changed into their normal attire, sitting down to a home cooked dinner by staff. By the time they were finishing up, their other guests had begun to arrive for the evening plans.

Vlad always hosted the game. It just always made the most sense. He had the most room in his house, nor the distractions of family. Not that he disliked Lance nor Ed's children, they were great, but there was nothing that ruined the immersion of dragon slaying quite like teenage dramatics. And he thought that playing with toddlers in the house was frustrating.

The four sat in yet another room in Vlad's mansion that he had dedicated fully to the hobby. A large round table with Harriet Chin sitting furthest from them. A DM folder that separated her papers from there, just low enough that the halfa could see her smirking to herself as she reviewed her plans. Ed sat to her left, with an empty seat in between them. Another empty seat in between him and Vlad, and yet another separated Vlad from Lance Thunder.

Vlad honestly didn't really know the man that well yet. He was one of Harriet's coworkers that she had dragged into the summer game, as Vlad and Ed needed a third person in the party for this campaign. Their normal fourth and fifth friends, Joe and Frank, were spending the summer with their daughter and their newborn granddaughter. He already missed the pair terribly, especially Frank. Frank would often join in on their World of Warcraft adventures. But Lance was gay, and that made him okay enough for Vlad to accept him into their little queer circle with little complaint.

"I wouldn't get her a car unless she had good grades," Vlad gave his two cents into the conversation. Something about Lance's daughter wanting a car. Lance nodded.

"That's what I've been saying, but Alan keeps saying that if Star had her own car, she could begin driving herself to the library and to school to study, but I just don't buy that," Lance agreed. Vlad knew by now who those people were. Alan was Lance's husband, Star was Lance's daughter from his first marriage. Vlad had seen pictures of Star before. She was a spitting image of Lance. "She's more interested in being with her friends."

"And what does Rene think?" Ed questioned about the ex-wife's opinion. Lance shrugged.

"She doesn't think Star needs a car," Lance replied. "Public transportation isn't bad here, she can always borrow one of our cars, and lots of colleges won't let you have cars as a freshman anyway. So it'd be sitting in the driveway in a year or so for a year anyway."

"Star's going to be a junior, right?" Vlad questioned. Lance nodded. Vlad mentally went over his garage of cars. "When she's able to have a car on her college campus, I'll happily give her a good deal on one of my cars if she has good grades. I'll probably be retiring one of my cars by then. Of course, it's not going to be some beat up piece of junk." Lance's eyes widened.

"I'll definitely keep that in mind," Lance smiled warmly at him.

"Vlad sold my oldest, Ophelia, a car about five years ago. Car still runs like it's new," Ed spoke up.

"Ophelia just began graduate school, didn't she?" Harriet questioned, finally speaking up. She had been nose deep in her campaign notes. Ed nodded.

"She got in at the University of Chicago, full ride," Ed beamed with pride, and Vlad was very proud too. Ophelia, his precious goddaughter, was like a niece to him. Very smart, quick-witted and the only one who could match Ed's passion for literature. Of course, Vlad provided her with that full ride scholarship, as he did with her younger siblings, and eventually he would do the same for Ed's remaining two when they got to that point. No niece or nephew of his was going to college with student debts. "George is set to graduate soon too, this is his last year. Before med school anyway."

Ahh, little Georgie. Vlad got to spend a lot of time with him. He was one of Vlad's interns at Axion Labs. A strong willed boy, good head on his shoulders. Sometimes a little too honest, but the world needed more people like that. Whenever the billionaire stopped by Axion Labs, he always paid a visit to his favorite intern. It was always those times he spent with Ed's children that Vlad regretted not having his own.

"So how's the cat, Vlad?" Harriet asked, giving a small smirk. She could always seem to sniff out his emotions. Damn journalists. They were a bit too observant. Vlad rolled his eyes.

"How's yours?" he asked back. She chuckled.

"Bandit's the happiest boy alive, I just got him a nice new cat tower," she replied. Vlad nodded.

"I just had a new cat house for Maggie built," Vlad told her. Of course, he was never going to admit to his friends, most of them knowing the ghost huntress, that he named his cat after a long term crush. "It's going to be installed in the next week or so. You should bring Bandit over then. Maggie loves him."

"Oh I might," Harriet hummed happily. "It's been a while since Bandit got to hang out with Maggie."

"Does anybody want a drink before we begin?" Vlad questioned.

"Can I have a glass of rosé wine?" Harriet questioned. The billionaire smirked.

"Of course," he replied. He glanced to Ed and Lance.

"Uh, just gimme a beer, you know what I like," Ed shrugged. Lance thought for a moment.

"I may just have some wine too," Lance spoke.

Vlad nodded, and he stood to go to the intercom on the wall. All of the rooms in his house had it for his staff. He pushed it, and he requested the drinks, alongside what he knew to be choice snacks.

Almost as soon as Vlad had sat down, a male staff member came with a tray. It was full of cheese and crackers, popcorn, chips and fondue. Another staff member came with drinks and glasses.

Vlad picked up a beer like Ed, cracking it open and taking a long drink. Of course, in any other company, he'd indulge in wine. Beer was not something one could normally drink at a formal business function, and so he always took advantage of the times he could freely have some.

They began. A small discussion, and as the billionaire expected, the dragon went down easy. Suspiciously easy. Harriet gave the group before her a mischievous grin just over her DM folder. Vlad didn't like this, or that look in her eye.

"So you guys defeated the dragon," the reporter replied slyly. "But there's no loot to collect on him. The dragon dissolves and melts away. Everybody roll for perception and add your stuff. Then tell me what you got."

Oh, he definitely did not like this a single bit. Vlad eyed her coldly as he picked up his dice. Ed and Lance did the same.

"Visual or hearing, I'm missing an eye so I'd have to roll disadvantage otherwise," Ed reminded her.

"Hearing!" Harriet chirped. He nodded.

"Uh, sixteen then," he replied.

"Ten," Lance said.

"Twenty-two," Vlad spoke.

"You hear nothing," Harriet told Lance, pointing to him. She moved her finger to Ed. "You hear a small noise, two voices. But they're a bit muffle, you can't quite make out the entire conversation. But you do hear some words. The general jist of the conversation you can make out is that these individuals have realized you killed the dragon and are here." Harriet pointed to Vlad. "You! However, you can hear everything. It's a rough voice of a masculine figure telling somebody to prepare for battle, somebody has killed their precious dragon. They're going to detect your thoughts to determine your next movements before making their next move."

"I cast detect magic," Vlad replied. Harriet's eyes sparkled.

"It failed," she announced gleefully. Vlad internally groaned, and he could see Ed looking confused. "So what will you guys do."

Lance scratched his temple as he stared at his character sheet. He was not just new to the group, but to the game itself. The weather man studied his sheet for a moment as he tried to think. He took a long sip of his wine before speaking.

"Well uh, I think my guy is just gonna look for the treasure, cause I didn't hear anything," Lance said slowly. "And I'm still really interested in the promised gold."

"I tell him to not, because we should be careful," Ed spoke up quickly. "Because of what I heard."

"You tell your party what you heard?" Harriet questioned. She had leaned back in her seat, a leg over the arm of the chair as she held her beverage. The lesbian lightly swirled her wine in her glass before taking a long drink.

"Yeah, I tell my party what I heard," Ed clarified.

"And I'll tell them what I heard," Vlad agreed. "Because I need these people alive to keep me alive. They're my meat shields." Harriet snickered.

"So the prince never mentioned anything but a dragon being in here," Ed said slowly. "It must be another adventuring party trying to get the treasure. Prince Yamum said he did send several people to collect the family amulet."

"I say we kill them," Vlad suggested. Ed looked at him in disapproval, and Vlad shrugged. "My character's selfish. He doesn't want to share the loot with this party, and he doesn't want to share the rewards for returning the amulet."

"I agree," Lance said slowly. "My guy doesn't want the competition."

"No, no!" Ed said sternly. "We are NOT killing him, he may have useful information for us or be able to help."

"There's two voices, so that's a five way split between treasure," Lance pointed out. Vlad glanced to see Harriet's reaction. She was grinning like a fool, with that distinctive sparkle in her eye. She was absolutely up to something, and she looked like a true super villain. Evil plots forming her mind. Vlad trusted her with nothing, and yet he admired this chaotic evil lesbian. Harriet was his villain goals.

"Harriet, I swear on your grave," Vlad began his threat, only to stop with a frown at Harriet's devilish giggle.

"The individual detects your negative and violent thoughts," she announced cheerfully. She finished off her glass, shifting to have both legs over the armrest, her back against the opposite one. "And they have deduced that you're a threat that needs to be taken care of. Congratulations, boys. You're encountering the real boss." Vlad scowled.

"I knew you were going to do this, you always pull some weird bait and switch thing!" Vlad complained. Harriet smirked. "Lemme guess. It's a, it's a, god what would be the worst thing to fight right now." Vlad racked his mind for a possible enemy. "A rakshasa? Probably with a shield guardian too."

Harriet's smirk only widened. And Vlad knew he was correct.

"Roll for initiative, bitch."

#my phics #phics #holiday truce 2019 #idiot cheesehead archenemy #vlad masters #mr. lancer #lance thunder #harriet chin

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hermionefae · 4 years

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Hidden- Dhawan!MasterxOC Part 2

This is part 2, part one is here.

Earth, 21st century, United Kingdom, Brighton, 11.30pm. Alice was drunk, like most Saturday nights when she and her friends went down to their favourite club in Brighton. The club night was called Sane and was always held in the basement room of a gay bar that if you saw it in the daylight you would walk right past it, slightly concerned that you would get an STD from just looking at it but at night, especially Saturdays it was Alice’s playground.

She had a tough week at work and needed to let loose, which is what she was doing. They had drunk their cheap canned cocktails on the train down and were already half wasted by the time they had got to Sane, being regulars had their advantages, they were let through regardless of their drunken state. There was always a theme to the Sane club nights and this evening the theme was Moulin Rouge Realness so Alice had bought herself an expensive red and black corset with matching skirt, black fishnets and high heeled boots and had donned a realistic looking red long wig.

Her friend Gemma had decided to fish out her leather looking trousers and put on a Victorian looking flouncy shirt and clumpy boots. She had tied her blonde curly hair into a high pony tail and perched a top hat high on her head. As ever, Gemma’s twin brother George had gone extra flamboyant. Being the only gay man in the group George always played up to the stereotype. Tonight, he also had a pair of tight leather trousers on but instead of a shirt, he was wearing a black leather harness that Gemma was holding in her hand. “It’s a bit weird for me to be your Dom as I’m your twin sister George” commented Gemma when he suggested it.

“Sis please, you’re ruining my aesthetic” was George’s reply.

Anyway, back to the evening. Alice had consumed as many shots as she could without throwing up, had danced as much as she could without injuring herself, although the night was still young and she could always be counted on to get up on the pole next to the DJ booth as whenever Alice drank, she often though that she could pole dance. Just as she was about to order another shot of tequila, Alice felt a wave of nausea come over her.

She tapped on the shoulder of George who was shamelessly flirting with the guy standing next to him and pointed upwards. They had developed different signs a long time ago because it was often too loud to talk. Pointing upwards meant they wanted to go outside to get some air, brushing their arm meant they were going to the toilet and a rather crude gesture meant one of them was getting off with someone, it was usually George but sometimes it was Alice if a fit straight guy had stumbled into the club. It was never Gemma as she had a long-term boyfriend.

George nodded but then went back to talking to the guy he was chatting up, Alice looked around, but in her drunken state she couldn’t see Gemma so she decided to go up on her own. She wobbled a bit on the steep stairs but made it outside without making a fool of herself. She turned right, towards the Brighton seafront and then sat down in an empty doorway of a disused coffee shop. Her head was still spinning so she kept it down and took some deep breaths. Then she heard her name being called in the distance, she looked up and peered up and down the street but couldn’t see anyone she recognised. Alice was a pretty common name probably someone else she concluded.

She put her head down again but was interrupted once more by a group of male voices “Hey you, nice outfit” Slurred a man, a few years younger than Alice.

“Thanks” muttered Alice, trying to avoid eye contact with the drunk men.

“Voulez vous coucher avec moi” said another man cosying up to Alice, he was not French and was also drunk but Alice got the gist of what he was saying.

“Ahhhh, I don’t think so pal” denied Alice getting up and stumbling away.

“Hey we were just having some fun, no need to be so rude” said the first man, getting angry.

“Oh, just piss off and leave me alone” said Alice.

“Alice there you are!” Came Gemma’s voice behind the men. The group turned round and saw Gemma and George who’s lead was firmly in Gemma’s grasp, Gemma had also acquired a whip from somewhere which made her look more threatening and George had his arms crossed over his chest, trying to look intimidating but was actually just hiding the fact that his nipples were erect because he was cold.

“Err, come on man, let’s leave these costumed freaks to it” said the third man who had looked uncomfortable from the start. The three friends watched as the unwelcome men made their way back down to the sea front towards the more conventional clubs.

“Hey, are you ok? We were really worried” said Gemma, rushing forward to Alice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I told George where I was but I couldn’t find you”

Gemma shot a dirty look at George who was clearly too drunk to remember that conversation. Alice felt the sickness and light-headedness arrive once again and swayed on the spot. “Alice, you look awful” stated a worried Gemma.

“I feel it” muttered Alice. Just then she heard her name being called again, the voice seemed to be coming from in front of her. Just as she felt the sick rise up her throat, she looked over at the opposite building and saw a man, slightly taller than herself with a dark complexion and black ruffled hair, wearing a purple jacket and dark tartan trousers. He had one hand in his waistcoat pocket, one leg crossed over the other and was leaning casually on the building’s pillar. He was grinning inanely at her, like a child who had just discovered a toy at Christmas. She couldn’t hold it in any longer, Alice spewed all the drinks she had consumed over the evening, plus the dinner she had insisted on having before going out, all over the floor.

“Shit!” Exclaimed George as he stepped back. Gemma grabbed hold of Alice and held her wig back from her face as she continued to throw up.

“Hey Gemma, you need to get Alice home. I’ll get the car ready” came the voice of Tyler, their friend and one of the bouncers of the club.

Gemma turned around “you sure? She might throw up again”

“No, I won’t” came Alice’s weak voice

“I’d rather she throws up in my car than in a taxi. I won’t charge you for it” said Todd as he disappeared to get his car.

They got back to Alice and Gemma’s flat without any further throwing up and Gemma took control of getting Alice undressed whilst George helped himself to toast.

Finally, Alice flopped into her king-sized bed and Gemma tucked her in. “Sorry for ruining your night” said Alice, who was still wearing her red wig as she wouldn’t let Gemma remove it.

“You didn’t ruin it; we were ready to go anyways. Who stays to the end hmmm?”

“We usually do”

“Well we’re saddos. Just get some sleep, I’ll be in my room and George is on the sofa, if you need anything okay?”

Alice nodded and rolled over, passing out instantly. Gemma, who had sobered up by this point waited and watched, making sure Alice hadn’t stopped breathing. When she was satisfied Gemma got up off Alice’s bed and took herself to bed, George had already passed out on the sofa, still in his harness. Gemma rolled her eyes at her twin and shut her bedroom door forcefully.

The first few moments of Alice being asleep, the room felt like it was spinning behind her eyes. This was a normal sensation for drunk Alice but then there was a bright light and she found herself in a long corridor with dark wood panelling on the walls and many, many doors. She tried the first door but it was locked. The same for the door opposite, the third door she tried was also locked but she could hear suspicious noises coming from behind so she recoiled and moved on. The door at the end of the hallway seemed to glow so she decided to head for that.

On the way she passed a mirror and stopped to look at her reflection, she didn’t really recognise herself, she seemed to still be wearing her wig from the club but as she tugged on it, it wouldn’t come off, it felt real. She was also bizarrely wearing an Alice in Wonderland costume complete with the white tights and black hair ribbon. She shook her head and proceeded to the last door.

This time it sprung open easily and she stepped through. She found herself in a bright garden with massive roses that seemed to sway in the breeze with their human faces turned upwards. There was a table in the centre, set for an afternoon tea with loads of cake and scones and a big tea pot.

“Hello Alice” said a familiar voice. The man she had seen observing her whilst she was throwing up outside Sane was standing in the exact same position by one of the ginormous red roses, a croquet mallet in his free hand. “Fancy a game? Or a cup of tea?”

“Who are you?” asked Alice who was equal parts confused and slightly turned on. She hadn’t noticed how attractive the mystery man was before.

“An old friend” he answered simply. He moved towards the table and took the seat at the head and gestured for her to join him.

She felt the overwhelming desire to obey him and took the seat to his left. He watched as she poured him some tea and then her own. Alice sipped it carefully “Earl grey, my favourite. How did you know?”

“I know a lot about you love, a lot! Also, Earl Grey happens to be my favourite too”

“Well if you know so much about me, I feel a bit stupid not knowing anything about you. What’s your name?”

“Ohh, I’ve gone by so many names in the past. You can call me Master”

Alice snorted “that’s a bit presumptuous” but then instantly regretted her words as the Master’s expression darkened. He looked like he was going to explode at her but then he seemed to get his temper under control. “Have a slice of cake Alice”

“Oh, I shouldn’t, I’m watching my weight”

Slam! The Master pounded his fist onto the table top, making the china rattle and the cutlery fall to the floor. Alice was proper shaking now, ‘ok time to wake up now!’ she was thinking furiously.

“You’re not dreaming Alice” said the Master darkly. He got up out of his seat and crept towards her, he sat down on the table so he was so very close to her. “This is very real, well in a manner of speaking. I had hoped that we were going to have a nice catch up before I got to this but I suppose if you want to skip the formalities, that’s fine”

The Master took a steadying breath “I need to you help me Alice”

“Help you? How?”

“You need to let me into your world”

“And why would I do that?” Asked Alice, getting a bit braver.

“Because I could tell you the truth, about your life, about your parents. Everything”

“I know about my life”

“Nope, you only think you do. I can show you the world Alice. Shining, shimmering, splendid” The master had got back up at this point and hand gone round to the back of her. He had placed his hands on her shoulders and worked on the tension in them. This was one of Alice’s weaknesses, she loved it when a guy touched her like his, or played with her hair, or kissed her neck which was what the Master was doing now.

“Oh God.” she vocalised.

“That’s right Alice, and there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Despite herself, Alice got up off the chair and sat on the table, pushing the chair away from them. She grabbed hold of the Master’s lapels and pulled him closer. “Tell me what I need to do” she said breathily.

In the TARDIS, the fam was watching at the Doctor was concentrating very hard. A moment ago, she had gasped and said “he’s found her.”

Graham, Yaz and Ryan had both established that the Doctor had meant that the Master had found the Princess and had rushed to the Doctor’s side.

“What are you gonna do?” Asked Ryan

“I need to establish contact, he’s brought her into his psychic garden, I need you and Yaz to keep the TARDIS flying, we’re gonna break through my barriers soon and land near her home. Graham keep an eye on me, if it looks like something bad is happening, shake me. Got it?”

“Got it” the three answered in unison. The Doctor sat down on the steps and put her fingers to her temples. Suddenly she found herself in the corridor that Alice had travelled down a few moments earlier. Like Alice, the Doctor tried all the doors but to no avail. One did open further down but out sprung a Slitheen which she had to quickly shut the door on. It was then she noted the door at the end. “This is got to be it hasn’t it Doctor?” She said out loud to herself and ran straight for the heavy looking door. It opened but jammed so she couldn’t squeeze through.

Through the door sliver, she could see the garden and the table as before. She could hear voices too which she knew was the Master and a lighter more feminine voice she presumed was the Princess.

“Tell me what I need to do” said the Princess. The Doctor remembered that tone of voice from long ago and she fought harder to get through.

“Kiss me” said the Master softly.

Alice had never felt so turned on in her life, it was funny how quickly she had gone from scared to horny but it happened and she drew him closer placing her lips on his. It started off gentle, almost as if the Master was astounded that his request had worked but then he got into the groove of the action and their kiss deepened.

The Doctor heard cups and saucers being pushed off the table and managed to get her head and half her torso through the gap. She saw the Master pushing the Princess down onto the table, the Princess had her white legs wrapped around the Master’s waist, giving him everything he wanted.

“Get off her!” The Doctor yelled. The couple broke their kiss and looked over at her. The Princess had no idea who the Doctor was and the Doctor felt the pure hatred the Master was giving off hid her like a wave.

“She’s mine!” The Master growled. He turned back to Alice who was panting, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He knew that she could feel his erection through his trousers but they would have to delay this slightly. “I’ll be with you shortly Princess.”

The Master put his hands on Alice’s temples and the girl began to glow, the Master kissed her again, once more to seal his passage into her world and the Alice was gone.

“Bye Doctor!” called the Master as he began to glow too.

“NO!” Yelled the Doctor as she watched her former best friend fade away, following the Princess. Suddenly she felt Graham shake her and she returned to the TARDIS.

#dhawan!master #original character #13th doctor #part 2 #sacha dhawan #doctor who #Alice In Wonderland

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thespearandthecrown · 5 years

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A Whiskey for Her

AN- Hey fam! So this July/August was insane. Now that September is on its way, I will have a bit of free time to work more on some writing. I am about another 5 or 4 more chapters left for The Sheriff and The Soldier, which, I'm super happy to see nearly completed. Dakota and the gang have been at the back of my mind for the past two months demanding that I finish their story. I've also released the first two chapters of my original story about my gay werewolf dweebs on fiction press. If you wanna check that out, as well as my ko-fi page, take a look at my ‘WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME’ tab on this Tumblr. Without any further adieu, have something that has been a warm-up piece I've been working on for the past three years now. I've rewritten this thing like 800 times. Thanks for your support, I hope this fic finds all of you well <3

Vi hated the 'underground' Piltovian technopunk scene. The venues are usually filled with too drunk mid-forty housewives, whose cheating husbands let them loose for a 'girls night out'. It wasn't like the legendary raves of Zaun, where laws or claims of power meant nothing. Where people could get lost in the flashing lights and pounding beats.

That was where the real fun laid.

The number of people she would bring home after a night of dancing most likely broke some kind of record.

But here?

Void's above the only thing she could pick up is some blubbering wife who wants to get back at her husband.

Too much vengeance and drama for one night.

This, however, wasn't the reason why Vi was in such a despicable joint. The 'boys' from the cop shop wanted to get together and tear up the town. They invited Vi, promising good drinks and plenty of women. Rather than declining, she thought that after the last few busts she deserved a night out.

Sadly, this blew ass.

Her coworkers were long gone, either too drunk to stand or too busy dealing with housewives.

Giving up, she took a great sigh and left the establishment feeling fairly bummed out and in the need of some kind of greasy substance.

She didn't walk far before she came up to her favourite pub, the Brass Gauntlet. Humming to herself, she agreed, instantly craving a Bilgewatian sea bass butty, a specialty that this pub was quite famous for.

The reason why she enjoyed this place came in three parts.

One, the food and drink were good, cheap and usually what she needed. Two, it was a wooden establishment with polished down seats and a lovely smiling old bartender that easily held the feeling of welcome warmth. Three, it was quiet and close to work. Sure the room could be filled with patrons, but it could never get any louder then whispered conversations. Usually, after a long day of hearing the sheriff bitch and complain about Vi's work methods, she would come here to destress and breathe.

Tonight, the basement pub had a small handful of patrons. A group clustered together at the far end chatted quietly amongst themselves, sipping their drinks as they nodded along with whoever was telling a story.

At the other end was a sole individual, huddled in their own booth.

Vi practically fainted as she recognized the individual. Not a day in her life did she ever think Sheriff Caitlyn Deramore would ever step foot in a pub of her own free volition.

With curiosity and a few pints fueling her forward, she made her way to the sheriff's table.

The sheriff had her back to the entrance. Her long raven black hair was tied up into a messy bun, revealing her pale swan-like neck. Her purple petticoat had been removed leaving her in her white blouse that seemed a bit to loose around the neck.

"What is a girl like you, doin' in a place like this?" Vi grinned as she stood at the head of the table to face the sheriff head-on.

Caitlyn quirked an eyebrow at the pinkette. Her brilliant ice blue eyes were accentuated by heavy shadows and wire-rimmed reading glasses. As to what Vi expected, her white blouse had two buttons undone, revealing a bit more of her neck and her collarbone. Vi returned the expression with her own raised eyebrow as she witnessed the rolled-up sleeves revealing the tense forearms of the Sheriff. Her right hand twirled the tumbler of whiskey; the single ice cube gently tapping the glass in the movement.

"Doing your paperwork," Caitlyn replied coldly.

Vi's eyes lowered to the small stack of yellowed sheets. In Caitlyn's left hand was a decorative ink pen.

"Ah, shit, sorry Sheriff. What did I do wrong? I honestly thought I got it right this time. I even got Albert to help me out on this one." Vi admitted sheepishly.

The Sheriff gave a great sigh before she took a swig of her whiskey. "It's alright deputy."

"Why here though? Why not at your office?" Vi asked perplexed.

"Because the bullpen is insanely full with that shimmer bust and the captives will not cease their incessant caterwauling of proclaimed innocence." She muttered lowly, taking another long swig of the amber liquid. "It is very quiet here and the whiskey selection is not terrible."

"Mind if I sit wit' ya? Maybe show me where I went wrong?" Vi asked, both hoping the sheriff will say no and yes.

Caitlyn mulled the thought over, watching the liquid in her glass swirl. With a sigh, she nodded toward the bar. "Get me another round then, deputy."

Vi chuckled. "Not a problem. What's your poison, boss?"

"The dragon's breath whiskey from Freljord. One rock, please." Caitlyn replied as she continued the work set before her.

"Coming right up." Vi turned on her heels With mixed emotions curdling her gut.

She wasn't afraid of Caitlyn, nor hated her. She was just so…uptight. Too serious and work-focused. Usually, the day shift crew would go together to the leather boot, a Piltovian warden stomping ground, with expensive prices to accommodate the large salaries of the trained officers. The shift would all go together, have a pint and unwind before going home.

Every time, Caitlyn would decline.

Out of the six months that Vi had been working with her, she didn't see her cut loose once.

And within a weeks time, she should be working more frequently with Caitlyn once she graduated the progressive and special program they implemented to make sure she was ready for the job.

Frankly, Vi was both dreading and too excited to work with this intense woman.

Maybe this could be the kick starter to get to know each other better.

For Vi to properly understand the sheriff and her insane work ethic.

With a quick nod of thanks and an exchange of coins between her and the bartender, Vi walked back with a pint and a whiskey tumbler.

"You have tomorrow off, right?" Vi asked as she passed the glass to Caitlyn's slim dexterous hands.

"Thank you," Caitlyn nodded. "Yes, I have every Sunday off."

Vi seated herself on the bench opposite of Caitlyn. The pinkette observed the tight-lipped exchange as she flipped to the back of a page and scratched on another. Her jawline became tight with annoyance.

"You seem a bit ticked that you have it off." Vi deduced, taking a mouthful of beer.

Caitlyn snorted. "I am indeed 'ticked'. Albert handles the scheduling and insists that I have that day off, rather than allowing me to work on cases."

"Albert is a good guy. Not to pry or anything but do you ever feel like you could amount to him since you're his replacement?"

The sheriff sighed heavily. "Albert was a great Sheriff. The community loved him, the politicians couldn't get enough of him. However, as much as I hate to say it, I do the job better. He has been a great mentor and has really taught me some valuable lessons with the social aspects of being sheriff. He has trained and trusted me to do better than him, and I'm glad I can fulfill his wishes. I just wish the man would properly retire."

"Well obviously his paperwork reviewing could do better." Vi joked gently.

"In all honesty, you didn't do anything wrong. Your handwriting is just despicable and I need to give the mayor this report so he can show our hard work to the council."

"How rude, Sheriff. It's not like I learned how to properly write like six months ago." Vi grinned teasingly. Then a thought crossed her mind, making her eyebrows furrow in concentration. "Why does the council need to see my report?"

"They are putting a lot of resources to use for you. They want proof that you are actually capable of being my partner, let alone a legal protector of the city." Caitlyn explained.

"So you're helping me look good?"

"In those terms, yes. As much as you seem like you are capable of turning in criminals, they want to see you be an officer, a deputy. Not some loose canon vigilante with no respect for the rules. Sure you may be completing that program, but they want to see your training applied to the real world."

Vi snorted loudly, causing the table on the other side of the bar to take a quick peek behind them. "But that's what I am, Sheriff. I'm not here to slap the wrist of some city hooligans. I'm here to stop the real bad guys. The ones who'd take kids, sell the harmful chemical shit, try to bring terror to good innocent people."

Caitlyn observed as Vi balled her fist.

"I'm glad you have faith in me. I'm glad that you are willing to go the extra mile to help me out. But let them see me for what I want to be." She took a long sip of her brew, then placed it down onto the heavy oak table. She tightened her jaw as she focused on her scarred hands holding the pint glass.

In this, Caitlyn observed the brawler before her. She was in her cracked leather jacket, brooding in the raised lapels. She had freshly shaved the side of her head, showing the dark pink roots. The scent of citrus and mint hit her nose as Vi straightened herself to sit upright. Her violet eyes bore into Caitlyn. They blazed with a determination that the sheriff had started to become quite accustomed to.

She had witnessed this determination a multitude of times in the past six months of Vi working with the precinct. It was normally accompanied by loud snarled curses and frustrated yells. It was smashing through a wall with a broken collarbone, whilst dodging bullets and protecting the hostage in her grasp. It was spitting in the face of political terrorists who threatened to blow the city to smithereens. It was her staying up all night to help prove the innocence of a street orphan who was facing charges of murder. It was her facing these almost impossible tasks with a crooked grin and a crack of her knuckles.

Caitlyn respected this determination, but she only wished the pinkette would give her on-the-fly plans a bit more thought.

"Why do you do this?" The brawler asked. Her voice was stern and serious. "Why put all of this effort when, no matter what, they're going to throw me out."

The sheriff takes a moment to mull over her statement. The tumbler clinks as she lets the ice and whiskey mingle more and more with each twist of her wrist. "Frankly, I am not quite sure, myself." She admits. "Maybe it’s because I know they can sense the potential in you. I understand your skepticism though; the old guard of the city council can be quite misogynistic. It took them a while to have full faith in me."

Their eyes meet for a moment. Caitlyn can see the gears slowly turn in Vi's head and it made the raven-haired woman curious.

Vi regards the sheriff in a new way. It isn't the usual brush off 'we'll deal with the situation as we go' kind of look that the brawler usually gives her.

Caitlyn can't help the small smile that tugs at her lips. "Be careful, Vi. If I didn't know any better it looks like I just earned some respect from you."

That troublesome smirk that drives the sheriff nearly up the wall, spreads through the pinkette's lips easily. "You should slow down on those Dragon Breaths, Sheriff. I think they're causing you to hallucinate."

They share a small chuckle between themselves.

"I think I like this side of you, Sheriff." Vi drawls as she finishes her drink. She signals to the bartender for another round, and the old smiling man nods.

Caitlyn raises an eyebrow, trying her best to not smile. "Don't get too used to it."

#piltover's finest #vi #caitlyn #cait #vixcaitlyn #vi and caitlyn #league of legends #Nightly Writes #fanfic #fanfiction #whoop #warm up writing

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