#and pairing them together would kill me so. lesbian will real.
Text
"will graham is not a lesbian" he literally is though??
#the thought process that brought me to the conclusion of he/him lesbian will im screaming#was thinking about will always ending up kissing/sleeping with women everytime he gets a little too close to being gay with hannibal#as a way of being like 'SEE I'M STRAIGHT I SWEAR' except they all happen to have such queer energy#(seriously though why is he like this its embarrassing ahdjdkls)#and then i remembered the scene with margot and hannibal where hes surprised they slept together cause.#cause he's not a lesbian right??? but what if he IS#and then i thought of onchys genderbent hannibal again cause fuck she was <333#and pairing them together would kill me so. lesbian will real.#nbc hannibal#will graham#faera's
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Direction friends to lovers fics where one of the characters is having a sexuality crisis as requested in this ask. You can find all my other fic recs here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!
—Harry/Louis—
⊹ Learning to Breathe by youcomecrash / @drunkharrystyles-blog
(E, 110k, uni au) He’s playing football at one of the top universities in England and he should love everything about his life right now, but instead he’s moving backwards.
⊹ Heading for Limbo by @kingsofeverything
(E, 100k, famous/not famous) When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it’s all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn’t the only thing between them.
⊹ Follow Your Arrow by Anonymous
(E, 78k, high school) It's senior year and everything is about to change.
⊹Passing By by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow
(E, 48k, vacation) the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.
That's What I'm Here For by @taggiecb
(E, 46k, farm au) Louis needs help running his business but has no idea where to even start looking.
⊹ And Touch Me Like You Never by runaway_train / @runaway-train-works
(E, 35k, roommates) The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.
⊹ Follow Your Heart by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes
(E, 32k, fake relationship) “We think it would be best to market you guys as a couple,” Simon tells them. The tone in his voice makes Louis think there’s no wiggle room to even try to argue about it.
⊹ others i've seen might never be mean (but they would never do) by @cherrylouvol6
(M, 20k, girl direction) a When Harry Met Sally AU in which Louis says all the wrong things and Harry always feels one step behind.
⊹ Supposed to Be by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo
(M, 26k, high school au) the Geek Charming AU where Harry's a film geek, Louis' a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.
⊹ Blush by orphan_account
(M, 15k, girl direction) the Christmas FxF Larry fic in which Louis is 99.5% sure she's straight and Harry likes to walk around shirtless and watch lesbian films
⊹ Waiting for Wonderful by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird
(M, 13k, pining) Harry is willing to wait as long as he needs to for his best friend to realise that they're supposed to be together, but it kills him to watch Louis struggle in his relationship with Mackenzie.
⊹ Nobody compares to you by fallenflowercrowns / @headband-husbands
(T, 10k, tumblr au) the one where Harry falls in love twice, Louis is just incredibly sweet and supportive, and Al from tumblr is super nice but also really secretive about his identity - not that Harry can blame him, considering his own blog is run under false pretences, too.
⊹ Elle Me Dit by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird
(M, 3k, girl direction) On the night of her bachelorette party she and her best friend/Maid of Honor, Harry, get drunk and wonder what they're missing out on.
—Rare Pairs—
⊹ You Don't Care About Me (One More Night) by @lululawrence
(NR, 60k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.
⊹ we're still the kings of the Friday nights by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed
(T, 22k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn’s been everything, for so long now. His moral compass, his partner in crime, his ride or die. And as of tonight, the first boy Louis has ever kissed.
⊹ The Stories They're Not In by abrighteryellow / @a-brighter-yellow
(E, 10k, Niall/Shawn Mendes) An AU inspired by Niall Horan's "San Francisco," the movie Rocketman, and Elton John and Bernie Taupin's real-life relationship (except more gay).
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
"That Really Happened?!" DC Comics Tournament
The Bracket
Groupings
We had 48 entries, which does not split evenly into a geometric sequence (2, 4, 8, 16), but it does split nicely if we break it up into groups of three first. So instead of a bracket with a left and right side, we will have a three-way bracket, where the finalists from groups A, B and C will all go head to head with each other round-robin style.
Seeding
In the poll that went up yesterday, I asked for feedback on seeding preferences. Interestingly, most people voted for grouping similar content, followed closely by random. Some people favored traditional seeding, and very few wanted to see the most popular go head to head early on. Personally I'm not a fan of random since it really unbalances things, but boy would it have been easier than what I've been doing! So here's what I did for our current tournament.
I've hand paired all 48 entries to match similar ones, or ones that I felt had an interesting hook between them. Next I created three different full brackets using these initial pairings so I could compare them. One was completely hand seeded, further grouping sets of matches together. Another took all the initial pairings and put them in traditional sort order using number of notes to indicate popularity (slightly unbalanced bc posts vary in age). And for the last, I took the initial pairings and randomized them with a few manual tweaks to distribute the most popular. All three of these approaches have pros and cons, which made it a tough choice, and in the end we are going with the fully hand seeded bracket. Not every entry had an obvious match, but I hope this will make the tournament compelling!
Schedule
Since we have three arms of the bracket, expect three polls to go up every day until the round is over. Each poll will last for the full seven days. We may or may not take time between rounds. The first round starts tomorrow!
Bracket List
Ready to see the bracket? Click "Keep Reading" and view the list below, or visit the google sheet here! For fun, I've also put the brackets we didn't end up using into the sheet.
Group A
Islamophobia Run Amuck (Joker Becomes Iranian Ambassador)
Black Mask Wears…er….
The Flash Meets Fidel Castro
Superboy gets the personality of Hitler
Sexual Assault Is A Superpower, Apparently
Snowflame, The Supervillain Powered by Cocaine
Domestic Abuse Ghost Possession
Can the real pol manning please step up?
Subway Puritans
My Favorite Same-Sex Couple in DC Comics is Technically Bestiality and Metaphorically Incest
Batman gives a guy ALS
Batman's dad tries to ruin his life
The Earth-Saving Alien Dick
Mal Duncan gets punched in the dick by an Angel
Superman and Big Barda do a porno
Wet and Wild
Group B
Schrödinger's Pregnancy
Zachary Zatara Has Dead Twins
Superman's Sentient Excised Tumor with Daddy Issues
Black Manta kills Aquaman's biological son, Aquaman tries to kill his adopted son
Shvaughn/Sean
So I Married a Protean and No One Told Me
"Not Exactly Romeo": Gorilla Mommy Issues and Other Tales
Superboy Has Two Daddies
Catwoman and the Penguin Cure COVID And Run Away Together
Kon-El Got Enslaved By Furries (And It Led To Pearl Harbor 2!)
Supergirl gets romanced by her horse
This angel centaur is a genderfluid lesbian
Rock Turns Man Gay
Sentient Music Note Saves The Day With The Power of… Gay Love?
Jimmy Olsen Fucked Talia al Ghul
Superman marries Supergirl
Group C
Superboy-Prime Punches Time
3 Year Old Lian Harper Breaks Vandal Savage's Thumb
Alien Invasion and the Time-Travelling Boomerang
Baseball Game to Save Two Worlds
Submission Witheld Due to Copywrite
Lex Luthor Stole 40 Cakes (And That's Terrible)
Bob Haney Doesn't Know Who Wonder Girl Was Supposed to Be
Animal Man discovers the Fourth Wall
Green Arrow hunts humans for sport
What if Space Jam but instead of fun, it's with Batman and it's horribly depressing?
Jason Todd: Tentacle Monster (Tentatodd)
Halloween Costume… of Death!
Wally Mobius Manhattan West
Metron and Swamp Thing go for a ride
Justice League Doom Patrol Inflation Art
Hallucinagenic Party Balloons (for your own good)
As always you can find all posts related to the tournament using #dc-polls-trh
And you can view details about each entry in our Entry List
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fright Night (the subtle LGBTQA+ rep horror film with equally gay music video)
The original Fright Night movie from 1985 and its sequel Fright Night: Part 2 from 1988 had LGBTQA+ overtones that simply do not exist in the remake from 2011 (It’s pretty straightwashed). Here are a few examples.
1. The actress who played Amy, Amanda Bearse, is a lesbian in real life.
2. The actor who played Evil Ed, Stephen Geoffreys was gay in real life.
3. The actor who played Peter Vincent, Roddy McDowall, was gay in real life.
4. Stephen Geoffreys played Ed as if he was in-the-closet gay.
5. Peter Vincent, the character, was based on the late Peter Cushing and Vincent Price. Vincent Price was bisexual in real life.
6. Vincent Price (who was bisexual) was the original actor wanted for the role of Peter Vincent.
7. The character of Jerry Dandridge has a live-in “handyman” named Billy Cole (who does not exist at all in the remake) who was implied to be his lover.
8. Jerry Dandridge was played as bisexual and it was indicated that he wanted a polyamorous relationship with Amy and Billy Cole.
9. Playing up that Evil Ed was an in-the-closet gay kid in the 1980s, there are many overtones to the speech Jerry Dandridge gives him in the alley about accepting him and making sure no one would ever hurt him again.
10. In Fright Night: Part 2, the character Regine was portrayed as bisexual.
11. In fright Night: Part 2, Regine had a Henchwoman of a trans woman vampire named Belle.
12. The actor who played Richie in Fright Night: Part 2, Merritt Butrick, was gay in real life and dying of AIDS. This would be his last role.
13. There’s a scene in Fright Night: Part 2 where Charley check’s Richie’s throat for fang marks while Richie seems to be drunk and Richie acts offended and says “It’s the wrong thing to do!” implying that he thought Charley was trying to take advantage of his drunkenness.
A few days ago was the Birthday of the late Roddy McDowall so it got me thinking about Fright Night and while watching the Fright Night title track music video by J. Geils Band it occurred to me that that music video is very, very Queer and I just never realized it.
I noticed the LGBTQA+ content in the film and its sequel but not the original music video.
First the music video begins with the entire (all male) band laying in bed together. This isn’t necessarily gay. But then the song goes into the description of Jerry Dandridge. “He’s a gigolo, a liar. A man of many faces.” And then “Don’t be fooled by what you think you see. He’s going to make his move on you and me.”
The song is from the perspective of Charley Brewster, suggesting that Jerry intended to seduce both Charley and Amy and not just Amy as the movie would have you think.
Then there’s this verse:
“I look into the mirror and it's as black as night
I see it fall to pieces as my heart ignites
Just waiting for the moment for that connecting thrill
Don't make a move, we've got to keep real still
We're waiting here and we're dressed up to kill.”
Followed by a faint audio clip of Roddy McDowall shouting “Watch out!”
The most queer moment comes at the end of the video. Again the entire band is back in bed together. The camera pans over the feet but in the middle among them, are pair of feet with claw-like toenails, implied to be Jerry Dandridge’s.
Then they each check each other’s throats, very closely, for fang marks.
I never realized just how gay this music video was.
youtube
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
😈😈
Hester/Chanel; Zayday/Grace; Grace/Chanel; Zayday/Libby; Sadie/Libby; Sadie/Chanel; Chanel/Libby; Gigi/Wes; Boone/Pete; Hoffel/Gigi; Chanel/Chad; Chad/Pete
Chanel/Hester:
They're everything to me I can not believe the old fandom slept on this ship. Canon itself is insane about them. I'm insane about them. I can't say too much because if I do then I just won't stop talking.
-
Zayday/Grace:
Canon really should've explored Zayday more in general but put these two together and there's actually such a tragic story there and I'm obsessed with it. Was she there to see Grace's breakdown. Did she leave Kappa the same time Grace did. Do you think Zayday ever gets asked about Grace. How often do you think she thinks about Grace in Stanford. How do you think she feels when Chanel's able to tell them it was a Devil in her car. How do you think she feels when she tries to visit and she's told Grace isn't there. How do you think she feels about the theory that reveal comes with.
-
Grace/Chanel:
Insane. Strangers to enemies to enemies-for-a-different-reason to enemies to friends to possibly lovers to enemies to one kills the other. Oh my god.
-
Zayday x Libby:
I still would love to know where pairing them up in S2 came from but also I am not complaining one bit. They're so weird they're adorable they complement each other so oddly well.
-
Sadie/Libby:
Made that bit more interesting in Devil!Libby AUs or our little idea where Hester sends only Chanel to Palmer but there's some questions worth asking about these two's relationship that canon doesn't really answer. Wish canon had stuck to their deal about outliving Chanel given that not only gives something to their dynamics with Chanel but ofc their dynamic with each other too.
-
Sadie/Chanel:
This is another duo we actually have a good amount of unanswered questions about but at the same time what canon gives us is enough to make fair guesses that still fit with their characters. It's a real shame S2 dangled Sadie over whatever tone-changing cauldron they threw Cassidy in because S2 had more than enough of a chance to have her interact with the others if it had pushed to get as much into each episode as S1 did (Ghost Stories is my favorite example of that)
-
Chanel/Libby:
Another Libby ship made that bit more interesting in Devil!Libby AUs but they're fucked up and fun to mess around with and I can understand the old fandom's focus on them. The questions for the prev two go for each of the Chanels pre-S1 it seems but they're major AU potential. Wish canon acknowledged the things it set up for them more.
-
Gigi/Wes:
Affectionately I hate them so much and it's not Gigi's fault whatsoever she's done nothing wrong here. I do like how cute their first scenes are and their little talk in the classroom in Chainsaw is still a great moment for Gigi but Wes is such a prick and his absolutely ridiculous character-butchering is hilarious and also canonically Wes is... a footnote in Gigi's story. The focus of her story in canon's present timeline is her relationship with her kids. I think she should be allowed to kill him a few times in hell.
-
Boone/Pete:
I hope you die I hope we both die you are coming down with me hand in unlovable hand.
-
Hoffel/Gigi:
They'd absolutely despise each other.
-
Chanel/Chad:
lmao. the ace lesbian and the bi with seven dead boyfriends.
-
Chad/Pete:
(They have the same boyfriend)
#sorry i talk about the S3 AU like it's canon. i will keep doing that#SQS#Scream Queens#nocakesformissedith#<333 ily
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
[deep breath] i am a lesbian éponine + gay enjolras unlikely best friendship truther- as we know, ep and r are best friends, bffs, ride or dies, besties for the resties, thru sickness and health- but what about the mean lesbian that hangs around enjolras’ scraggly scrunkly gruffly bf ???
miss lighter tricks cigarette breath surprising left hook doc martens nose ring bartender who flirts with men for tips even tho she can’t stand them pairs up with mister green smoothie law textbook glasses hair down to his collarbones type a personality who reads political text to unwind has never actually taken a real deep breath in his life have come together and has become the best and worst of grantaire’s existence??? personally i love it
do u have any headcanons if so would u mind SHARING?
hello!!!!! I luv them!!! welcome to the club we have niche friendship aus
let's see
it definitely took them a while to warm up to each other at first. Eponine doesn't like to get close to people, and Enjolras won't try to be friends if he feels he's getting nothing in return. Because of this, they're both so prickly and private that it takes them a long long time to start treating each other as acquaintances instead of strangers, and even longer before they actually called each other friends. There was no real catalyst, just the longer they spent together they realised the other really isn’t that bad, actually
Enjolras Eponine shitty parents solidarity. They don't talk about it a lot, because they're not the kind of people to talk about things lol. But if something very parent-orientated is happening, they fade into the background together and have their own private conversation, at least to provide each other with a distraction.
Once they get to know each other well enough, they both make it their mission to embarrass Grantaire as much as possible. Éponine has so many embarrassing photos of Grantaire in his awkward teenage emo phase, and Enjolras will often burst into the apartment like ÉPONINE TOLD ME YOU USED TO BE IN A PUNK BAND AND SHE SAID THERE'S A VIDEO OF YOU PERFORMING ON YOUTUBE CAN WE PLEASE WATCH IT. Grantaire’s life is ruined.
Becoming friends with Eponine really improved Enjolras’ feminism. He knows that he’s a male-orientated person, and he felt that he definitely had a blank spot there that needed work. Eponine’s initial response was “it’s not my job to teach you how to drink your respect women juice, rich boy”, but she thought about it, came back the next day, threw a bunch of feminist theory books at him and said “start with bell hooks and Audre Lorde and I’ll see you on Friday”. Enjolras was like fuck. Am I getting graded on this. Is she going to kill me. It was a bit awkward at first, but now they’ll meet up and drink coffee and discuss a book or an article or current events, and sometimes if there’s a lecture Eponine is interested in she’ll ask Enjolras if he wants to go
They're one of those friendships where when they're hanging out it's basically just the two of them existing together. Grantaire will get home from work and the two of them will be sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table in silence, Enjolras will be on his laptop and Eponine on her phone. And then when Grantaire asks what they've been up to they both look at him like he's stupid like "hanging out? obviously?"
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Karma Akabane is bellusromantic aroace on main and it's crazzyy that no one else notices it.
During the field trip, the boys all ask each other what girls they’re into. When Karma is asked, he takes it rather in stride. “Hmm, Okuda, I guess.”
What gets me is the “I guess” part. Cause he knows they're talking about romance/sex, but he knows he’s aroace and he’s chill about it, but there’s no reason to randomly come out to these dorks, so he just picks the girl he thinks would be the easiest to get along with.
Like if he cared about making friends, he’d probably become friends with her. She’d be really useful in the mission to kill Korosensei
And it SHOWS in how he answers why. Like he doesn’t say anything like “she’s cute” or “I like the shy type” or “nice personality” he’s like, shes good with poisons and we could cause a whole lot of trouble
If he has to choose someone, might as well be her
He’ll just play along, since he can’t be bothered to be bombarded with amatonormative questions afterwards if he did end up just flat out say he doesn’t like anyone
He doesn’t care about sex or romance, but he does find everyone elses thoughts on it amusing. He’s a go with the flow kinda guy, up to a point.
He gets paired with Okuda at the Test of Courage, but even though he knows what Korosensei is going for, he's not bothered by it at all
Neither he or her are interested in each other. They’re good friends and they’re comfortable like that
He’s more interested in whatever scary stuff Korosensei thinks he’s got planned for them when they go deeper into the cave, if any.
He finds it funny whenever anyone picks on Nagisa, especially when it comes to romance stuff, because he gets so weird about it.
Nagisa is aroace too obviously but he’s definitely not as favorable around romance stuff as Karma is. Karma teases him about it all the time
Karma and Rio tease Nagisa about it whenever the situation comes up
See all the “dates” with the rich boy, and the kiss with Kayano
Its really funny seeing him being so oblivious to Kayano’s feelings, or him getting awkward about the rich guys crush on him. Dude's so repulsed.
Karma doesn’t do anything for Valentine’s day cause…why would he?
When the guys are trying to sneak a peak at the girls panties, he’s not even there, he's so uninterested.
Like almost all the other guys are trying to do this perverted thing and Karma just,, is nowhere to be found…
why didn’t the mangaka write him in?
You know why.
Karma is bellusromantic, so he can play-flirt if he is in the mood to. Usually just making jokes with Rio.
Rio and Karma are Aro/Lesbian(??? I think that’s canonical??) Solidarity
Since Karma is bellusromantic aroace, he's fine with handholding or going on "dates" even though its pretty synonymous with just hanging out, but since he's friends with girls, to people on the outside it looks like dates. But that's only if he ever wants to hang out with anyone, period.
During the final battle on Korosensei’s birthday, he grabs Okuda so they can run together
Cause she’s the closest behind him and also they’re pretty good friends and also she’s not as fast as Rio, I think
She also wouldn’t take it weirdly. Not that she knows he's aroace--maybe she does, but they’re pretty cool around each other. Rio would make fun of him for it, and Nagisa can take care of himself.
When he’s an adult, he obviously isn’t with Okuda or anyone. Doesn’t keep in touch often.
Even with Nagisa. That was established.
He’s focused on becoming a politician. Relationships, outside of the business ones to further his career, are not even in the question-- they’re so far at the back of his mind.
Dude's aroace
Like, when has he ever shown ANY romantic or sexual attraction towards ANYONE? And I mean real attraction. Never, right! Anyway Happy Pride, I just wanted to finally make this Aspec Analysis it's own post! DNI aphobes, queerphobes, period; and proshipp/antiantis-- you're gross and stupid
#aromantic#asexual#asexuality#karma akabane#ansatsu kyoushitsu#assclass#bellusromantic#aromantic positivity#aromantic pride#asexual pride#asexual positivity#ace pride#ace positivity#aro positivity#aro pride#rolaplayedit#rio nakamura#nagisa shiota#okuda manami#Assassination classroom
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
SLOCG Season 2 thoughts and opinions with Spoilers
First of all, I just wanna say that all 4 of them are very funny, lovable and precious. <3
As much as i love this show, it’s hard for me to recommend it to others without sounding weird.
They need more episodes! I’m ok with like 30 mins per ep coz it feels like a sitcom-ish, but waiting a year for 10 episodes??? TORTURE. They need at least 20 since the eps are short.
Aside from my main lesbian girl Leighton, Kimberly is my favorite until she did that thing in the finale.
Pauline Chalamet is an underrated actress! She’s amazing even before i found out she’s Timothee’s sister. It means, she’s great on her own. Comedic timing = 10/10
So Leighton is a rich, math genius lesbian like she really won the lottery. Also, how can she be so good at math when she’s gay???? That’s unfair.
GRACIE DZIENNY!!!!!! If you’re a First kill fan, you would understand the happiness when she first appeared on SLOCG. WLW crossover!
Why you keep pairing Whitney with mediocre white men???? I’m so tired. Also, please give her a stronger storyline and make her bi, thanks. I don’t know if i’m in the position to say this, but i feel like the writers are being too safe and scared (?) about Whitney’s arc.
Canaan is the only man i can tolerate for Whitney, but they didn’t have that much chemistry, they just look good together.
LeighTum is sooooo hot. I know them looking and acting alike is so funny, but they are hot.
I’m so happy that there’s no problem with Leighton’s coming out to her friends and family. I know it’s a reality for most to receive a bad reaction, but i’m glad the writers didn’t go that way coz we are tired. We deserve to see a happy lesbian on screen.
Sorry, but i have to defend Bela with the cheating issue. Eric is not an amazing man like Bela said. He f*cking stole the opportunity when we all know that it’s 100x harder for a brown woman to be in that industry. He has connections w/c he revealed during the argument, but he still did that. Bela cheating on him was nothing compared to what he did.
Leightum x Leighcia issue: First of all, I love them both so i really don’t know where to side, but i feel like Alicia is getting hate too much? They all said horrible things including Leighton, but Alicia is the only one who’s getting massive hate and that’s unfair. I don’t think Leightum’s breakup was forced at all. What Tatum said was a big deal and them being a twincest ship was an obvious metaphor on Leighton’s old habits. I thought we only like “mean girls” for fun, but some are starting to glorify rude behavior.
Let’s move on to the real enemy w/c is Kimberly x Canaan coz WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUk. Ok i mean we cannot choose who we love, but BOTH OF THEM didn’t think it through. Lila was right, Kimberly shouldn’t have acted on it. Or at least for a while? She didn’t even wait for a longer time and talk to Whitney about it. Same with Canaaan. Whitney asked her to give her a chance to talk and explain, but she blew it. I was rooting for you Kimberly! We were all rooting for you! How dare you???!
So with these last episodes, we would wait a year to know what will happen to the dynamics of the 4 girls now that Bela is transferring and Whitney wanted to move to the Kappa house. Faaaaaaaak. Leighton is the only who has a real happy ending. Their friendship is my favorite part of the show so i hope things will get better for Season 3. Also, i know it's unrealistic for roommates to have a perfect relationship, but i just don't like that it will be ruined for a man. :\
#SLOCG#The sex lives of college girls#Leighton Murray#Whitney Chase#Bela Malhotra#Kimberly Finkle#Renee Rapp#Alyah Scott#Amrit Kaur#Pauline Chalamet#Leightum#Leighcia#Leighlicia#Midori Francis#Gracie Dzienny#First Kill#Mindy Kaling#WLW#Sapphic#Lesbian#Bisexual#HBO max#Timothee Chalamet#Leighton x Alicia#Leighton x Tatum
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 28
Blunt - Emperor AU
“Absolutely not.” Varis frowned as Hero sulked in his seat. “I’ve told you before, it would reflect poorly on both of us if you did.” Once again they were fighting over Hero’s potential romantic prospects, and once again, Hero was being insanely stubborn about them.
“Every single suitor I’ve met so far, I can’t trust as far as I can throw them! I’ve met half this list during the different balls, festivals, senate meetings, state dinners and even the military meeting I’ve had to attend in the last six moons. I don’t feel comfortable with any of them. Certainly not comfortable enough to bed them, much less wed them.”
“There’s the other half of the list, your Radiance.” Varis was only growling in frustration, “have you considered using your echo to do more than just reject your suitors?”
“My echo warns me of danger, ill intentions, and lies. They aren’t interested in me either, they’re interested in my power and position. I refuse to have a loveless marriage, I want a partner I can trust.”
“Zenos keeps trying to kill you every time you train with him, how is that a sign of trust?”
“All he’s doing is trying to find a way to fight me at my full strength, when we’re not in the training room he’s docile.”
“Lazy.”
“Tired and bored. I’d rather have someone smart and a bit lazy than stupid and ambitious, Varis.”
The high legatus cringed a little, he couldn’t fault Hero for that one. Smart and Lazy were a wonderful combination, they were the ones who could make a system more efficient just so it let them do less work. Smart and ambitious people made things happen, they were the go-getters who ensured everything ran smoothly, much like Asahi was. The pair were becoming a very effective combination whenever they were left alone with a single problem to focus on. It’s the people who were both ambitious and incapable of rubbing together two brain cells to spark a single idea that were the real danger. All the desire to run the world and none of the critical thinking skills to do so.
Framed like that, he could understand why Hero preferred someone like Zenos who had no desire to control him, and instead would lounge about like a feral cat who’d found a warm spot until he found something to hunt. Zenos was, relatively speaking, safe. The sons of the political upper crust in Garlean society were raised in a society that was as cold and cut throat as his grandsire once was.
Still is, if the damned ascian was so intent on hanging around and haunting the palace after his supposed demise.
He inhaled slowly, counted to ten, and tried again. “If you court Zenos officially, the senate will rake me over the coals for trying to groom you into giving me the position of power I would have had if my grandsire had chosen me to succeed him. They will see it as a naked attempt at a bid for power from me, not a choice you made willfully with all due consideration.”
“So you need me to meet, flirt with, and reject literally every other option on the table before I’m allowed to court Zenos and Asahi openly.”
Finally, progress. “Yes, exactly.”
Hero growled softly, his face contorting into the most sour look Varis had ever seen the young Viera make. Still, he picked up the data pad before him and started going through the list of potential consorts and wives he had yet to reject. “Fine, but I’m not going to enjoy it. Mark my words.”
“Does anyone ever enjoy the prospect of an arranged marriage, your Radiance? I’m sure at least a dozen people on that list are only there because their parents put them there and they had no say in the matter. Your rejection would be a blessing to them.” He noticed one of the suitors and sighed, “she’s one of them actually. Her lover is actually on the palace guard, the lovely lady on the morning Library rotation.”
“Okay we’ll make that plan b then, I marry a lesbian and fuck your son on the side.” Varis wasn’t sure how to feel about the candid way Hero mentioned it, and it had to have shown on his face because the young Emperor smirked up at him. “You told me to give it all due consideration, so I’m considering.”
“Could you consider using less vulgar language when referring to my son, your radiance?”
“And miss you making angry dad faces at me? Never.”
#ffxiv fanfiction#ffxivwrite2023#emperor au#Hero is seen here being a problem on purpose#Varis is having none of it#Varis just cannot admit he's adopted the dumb bunny#But that's exactly what happened#Hero's just trying to make it official
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Alex! I have returned to send you more character asks! I will do a couple more, in pairs of two for organizational purposes ^_^
For Castlevania, tell me more about Hector and Carmilla!
Oh boy. Of course those two together at that (are you and @0nelittlebirdtoldme secretly the same person?). But alright, let's do this.
Sexuality Headcanon
Hector I headcanon as pansexual and demiromantic. He basically has to really connect with a person to fall in love with them.
Meanwhile I headcanon Carmilla as a lesbian. I don't care that canon says she is bisexual. To me she is a lesbian. (And, let's face it: Castlevania is a canon that basically says "everyone is bisexual until proofen otherwise.")
OTP
My OTP for Hector is Hector/Isaac. I really do love those two together. Though I ship him with several other characters as well, because he is my little bicycle! One of my ships for him is, of course, Hector/Lenore, but I really, really do like him with Sypha as well. :D
I don't have a real good OTP for Carmilla, though I have an OC I ship her with: Laura.
BroTP
Really, my BroTP for Hector (that does not involve any animal friends of his, that is) is Hector and Abel. I do still want to write something that goes more into their friendship :D
For Carmilla it is her and Morana. While I have Striga often struggling to connect with Carmilla, Carmilla really gets along well with Morana.
NOTP
... Hmm... I mean, I would probably not ship Hector with Striga or Morana. But outside of that? All bets are off, my little bicycle 🚲
For Carmilla it is definitely Carmilla/Dracula. That one... Just no.
First headcanon that pops into my head
Hector is autistic. You cannot convince me otherwise.
For Carmilla. First thing that pops into my mind is my entire headcanon with Laura and how it relates to Lenore. See, in my Headcanon Laura (who was Carmilla's partner) has been the one to turn Lenore, but has died soon afterwards, because she was not careful enough and got killed by an English soldier. While Lenore made it to the safety of Styria afterwards, Carmilla always saw her as the one to take Laura from her. Even though it was not Lenore's fault.
Favorite line from this character
To me the best Hector lines all have to do with him understanding the world. So I will go with him nerding out over vampire books. lol "I admit there is more to vampire culture, than I thought. There are ideas in here about physical presence in the world, the importance of soil and landscape and being. Actual philosophy. Amazing."
With Carmilla it is just her anger that I love so much. "That's what I do. I take things away from evil old men, because they don't deserve to have it." Queen!
One way in which I relate to this character
Look. I am all about projecting on Hector, alright? Autistic guy who got abused by his parents and has problems finding a good relationship, leading to further abuse? Yep. That's me. lol
For Carmilla? Well, look. I get her anger at cis guys, alright? I get it.
Thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character
Oh Hector. My poor, sweet Hector. What doesn't give me second hand embarrassment about this man? He gets betrayed and manipulated not once, not twice, but a total of three times. My sweet, sweet Hector. He is so dense.
Carmilla is a badass bitch. But man was she stupid treating Hector the way she did. Didn't she know that the creatures would listen to him and him alone? Because man... the entire thing was so dumb.
Cinnamon Roll or Problematic Fave?
Hector is mostly a cinnamon roll, even though he also did partake in genocide. But still... Just look at the man! :(
Carmilla is a problematic fave, though. I mean, she is just misandrist af
#writers asks#headcanon#character headcanons#castlevania#carmilla castlevania#carmilla#castlevania hector
9 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Hi!!! Lori Critter (they/them) here! You might know me from some of my work on twitter (if ya know what i mean lololol) but I also write, and make art. I’ve been working on this lesbian sex worker road trip novel for over two years, fleshing out the basics of the main story and writing all the scenes I was really excited about. Let me know what you think! I will have a patreon available any day now where you can read the chapters in real time every week as I actually put the book together cohesively. I might add some poems here/add a novel and poetry tier, but my poems are pretty weird so we’ll see about that lol. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work!!! (also the novel is written from the perspective of Angelica she/her who eventually IDs as nonbinary, this excerpt doesnt explain that so I thought id add it :) )
I hated how scared I was. My job was to be supportive, but all I was doing was sitting in a back corner of the room staring at her worriedly. Evangeline was getting ready to see a client for a date. She had just finished painting her nails and was now blushing her cheeks with her other hand, holding a compact in the shape of a heart. I always thought of myself as someone who knew all about the “rougher” side of life and had no qualms about sex work. But all I felt was worry. Eva had done this so many times before and I wanted to think she knew what to do in every single situation. And I did trust her. But I didn’t trust the world.
In this past month, we had created our own universe overflowing with new love, lust, and adventure. Yes, I was scared for her. But I also didn’t want a bunch of men butting into our world.
“I’m almost ready… I’m a bit dusty” Evangeline giggled. I fucking love her giggles. The way it sounds like shes shy but you know shes anything but. I watched her walk past me and was infuriated that some truck driver or lonely dad gets to touch something so sumptuous. Could even I deserve a backside that fits blue satin granny panties so well? (“they let my pussy breath!”).
Eva was putting on her strappy heels at the edge of the bed. I sat down next to her and rubbed her back, my head leaning on her shoulder. She smelled so, so good. Like sweat and summer. “God, you smell amazing. You really have to leave RIGHT now?” I smiled at her. I was trying to sound like I was teasing her. But I wanted so bad for her to change her mind.
“You want me to stay, don’t you?” she turned and looked at me. “I’ll be fine. I know what I am doing, and its no more dangerous than my waitressing job where my boss kept a gun loaded on his desk. If I worked at a grocery store, it could get shot up. If I was “just” a stripper, my boss could turn me into his personal concubine. I’ve seen it a million times before. And it WOULD be because shes a stripper! But thats his problem, the worlds problem. I refuse to wait for the world to catch up to, like, the truth of humanity, that we’re all the FUCKING same and no ones better than anyone else. I will work my way, and all I need from you is support. This is what I want, how I am most happy. I totally get that the whole world told you the story of the poor little dead hooker, but thats just not me. If I’m killed tonight, its still not me. And it doesn’t exist. I am NOT what my clients, you, or a shitty movie tell me I am. No one is.”
I just stared at her. I felt bad. I felt confused. I flinched at every snatch and quick movement she made as she finished getting ready. Maybe she could’ve not lectured me at the drop of a hat, without me even saying anything that serious. But she was right. I was being stupid and trying to protect her in ways you can never truly protect someone. And I knew from the beginning who I was running away with. Looking at her, pissed and stomping around the room, I decided to learn, as best I can, just how exactly she needed me to love her.
I looked down at the floor, where her overflowing suitcase was. I saw a pair of sheer panties with little sea creatures like octopi and seahorses on them. It wasnt a thong, but it was the kind where it was meant to ride up your ass and basically serve the same purpose.
“I think you should wear this. Just don’t sell it for him to keep under his pillow.”
#lesbian#sexwork#novel#web novel#patreon#feminist writing#writer#queer#queer writers#queer writing#nonbinary#nonbinary writer
1 note
·
View note
Text
The first tell was the body next to her. The second was the warmth. Her bed was never warm these days. The first two things had already clued her in that there was something off. Off was an understatement. She’s certain she passed out on her office floor clutching a bottle of alcohol and Jess was going to kill her in the morning. So, how the fuck-
The longer she stays there, eyes closed, feeling the breathing of a stranger, the more she’s convinced she’s suffered from amnesia.
Beyond scared she opens her eyes, hoping, praying that she didn’t bring home some idiot from a cheap lesbian bar. Her eyes land on blonde hair and an all too familiar set of defined shoulders and Lena lets out a gasp of surprise. She sobers up, jerks upright. Jolting the pair of arms wrapped around her waist and making her companion wake abruptly.
“Lena- Wha- Why’re you awake?”
“Kara-” That was all she was capable of as of the moment, because Kara was sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp, letting Lena glimpse the small clock on the nightstand that read 4: 00 a.m.
Kara’s voice was all raspy and sleep-laden and she was looking at Lena with concern. She was looking at Lena like they’ve done this all the time. And they did.
Once.
She remembers jerking awake screaming from nightmares and Kara holding her; remembers waking up to Kara’s screams and holding her.
But this-
This wasn’t right.
“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks, crinkle forming. And Lena just stares and stares and-
“Kara, this isn’t real.”
“What? Oh, baby, come here. That dream must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Kara coos and she gathers Lena in her arms. Lena can do nothing but melt and follow Kara’s movements, her mind is still reeling.
Trying to decipher the events that had led here. This wasn’t real. This-
A tremble shakes the bed. Lena’s heart rate ticks up, Kara seems to have heard because she’s tightening her embrace and more words come out of her lips, but Lena doesn’t hear a word of it.
“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m here.”
Lena finally finds her voice and she slowly tries to extricate herself from Kara. She can feel her hesitating to let her go.
“This isn’t real,” She repeats and Kara is ready to protest, “Please, Kara. Please listen to me?”
She nods. Kara was never one to deny Lena anything, anyway. Lena sighs a breath of relief.
“Thank you. Uh- I think this isn’t real, Kara. I think I’m inside a Black Mercy induced dream.”
And as if it heard a cue, the bed and the rest of the room vibrates as if ashamed of being called-out so easily.
“No, no, no. You aren’t. You’re real. I’m real, You-” Kara is scrambling for words, “Look- Here, feel this?” Kara frantically grabs her hand and presses it to her own chest, “Can you feel it? This is real. Don’t say it isn-”
Lena feels like sobbing, because it does feel real. The strong beats underneath her palm thundering through her very soul. It feels so so so fucking real. She’s never wanted something to be real as bad as this. She wants to believe, because Kara is looking at her with those baby blue eyes and she wants to say that ‘Yes, I believe it real. We’re real.’
She can’t.
“Kara, the bed is trembling. Can you feel it? This isn't real. You’re in my head.”
It was brutal. She watches Kara’s face fall. She retracts her hand back.
“How are you so sure that this isn’t real?”
The question was asked with so much fear.
“Because,” she starts shaky but certain, “I hurt you, Kara. And that is the one thing that I can never forget.”
It was true. She can never forget the way Kara crumpled to her feet. Can’t forget the way the Girl of Steel broke by Lena’s hands. Can’t forget the tear-stricken face.
Can’t forget the pleas.
“Don’t do this, Lena. Please, come on. Please, stay. Don’t leave. Not you, please I can’t-”
“Oh.”
The silence was deafening. She can’t look at Kara as she processes everything. So she takes the time to survey the room. And God, every inch of the room screams how much they’ve stitched their lives with the other.
There were books haphazardly stacked in one corner, a painting easel in the other, Kara’s cape shining in the dim light of the lamp, Lena’s old MIT sweatshirt at the foot of the bed.
A wedding portrait. They were married here. Fuck.
Lena chances a glance at her left hand and not only does she find a ring but also a matching gold bracelet. A Kryptonian mating band. Now, she notices that Kara’s ring was worn on her neck next to her Mother’s necklace Lena supposes she wears it underneath the Super suit and a matching bracelet sitting on her left wrist.
“I’m sorry,” Lena says ‘for everything.’ she wants to add but she remembers this isn’t her Kara. She doesn’t have a Kara. She doesn’t have any part of Kara. Not anymore.
“What are you sorry for? If anyone could figure out they were inside a parasite induced dream, it would be you. You’re a genius but you’re dumb for apologizing. You should reject the fantasy now, Lena. You’ll die.��
Damn it, even here.
Even here Lena is still hurting her and Kara still wants to save her.
The tears finally fall. The sobs come next.
“Oh, Lena. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here,”
“I- I know, I’ll die but God, Kara, I want to stay here. I- You’re my everything, you know?”
“I know, Lena. I’ve always known. You don’t have to die because I’ll always know. You need to get out of here now,” She whispers against Lena’s temple and Lena takes the time to breathe her in. God, even the scent smells real.
“Y-you’re right. I should go, but-” Lena doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. That was what her therapist had said the first time she booked an appointment.
“But what?”
“Tell me about our life here first?” At that Kara pulls away a bit to look into her eyes; gauging if this is really what Lena wants.
It is, it’s what she wants but more than that it’s what she needs. The reassurance that somewhere out there, there was a world in which they made each other happy. That in a universe out there--whether real or not--the both of them had a taste of a happy ending.
“Okay, okay yeah. But first, promise me you’ll get out of here as fast as you can, once we’re done?”
She was never one to deny Lena Luthor anything, remember? She was more than happy to recount the entirety of their love story to her.
“Thank you.” And Lena can’t help but press a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek.
“Where do you want to start?”
“Do we have a dog?”
“Krypto,” Kara says with a shy smile as if she knows that Lena would laugh at the goofy sentimental name choice, “And a cat, Streaky Jr., you don’t allow pets in the bedroom so,”
“I’m impressed we have the time for pets,” Lena whispers as she shifts closer to Kara in the bed. Heart now beating in a steady calm rhythm, gone was the panic earlier, now replaced by a sense of security, no matter how false it is.
“Well, you decided to distribute most of the workload to Jess--who you promoted to board member by the way, and to Sam. And since, Wednesday is my first day as Editor-in-Chief, my schedule’s not as busy as it was.”
It was nice to hear that. The way they have obviously chosen to grow into themselves together. She was glad that in her perfect world she hadn’t forgotten about Jess and Sam.
“Oh, and also you spend most of your days in our home lab with Jack anyway. So, the pets get plenty of love.”
“Jacky’s alive here?”
“Yeah, you reversed the nanotech matrix. You saved him.”
And the crying fest begins anew.
“I miss him, so much.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lena doesn’t have to explain her reaction, Kara knows how to read her anyway.
At the reminder of Jack, Lena finds the courage to ask a question she’s never thought she would want to ask.
“What about Lex and Lillian?”
“Well, your brother’s probably drunk in an L-Corp gala somewhere and Lillian’s probably plotting about how she’s going to insult my next article-”
So, she still has her brother and it seems like Lillian’s not much of a xenophobe as she is in reality but she senses that she still is a bad mother with the way Kara talks.
“When did we get married?”
“Two years after we first met. We had two, actually.”
“I’m guessing I insisted on a Kryptonian wedding and you insisted on a human one?”
She knows that one, because she’s been thinking about it. Well, at least she was before everything went to shit. She wanted to give Kara a Kryptonian ceremony. She had wanted to show her that Lena would be honored to share everything Kara’s world had to offer.
“Are we-” she hesitated, “Are we happy, Kara?”
She wasted no time in answering, “The happiest. You make me the happiest soul alive in this universe and in any universe.”
Fresh tears fall down the side of her face and Kara wipes them away before speaking, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Well, I guess it’s only fair.” Lena sniffles and prepares her mind for what she knows will be an emotionally-charged exchange not that this has been an easy conversation thus far.
“Out there, are you happy?”
Lena’s air is stolen from her. Well, she doesn’t know how to answer that one.
“Sometimes,” she whispers. She’s not happy most of the time but sometimes she is.
Sometimes, Ruby calls her to tell her about a science project or sometimes Nia sends her meme even though she hasn’t been to Game Nights for almost a year now, sometimes Brainy takes her out for a drink and she feels like she’s got a little brother to call her own.
So yeah, sometimes. Because the thought of perpetual happiness without Kara in her life is impossible.
“Only sometimes?” Kara asks, brow furrowing.
“Yeah, only sometimes. Not like it matters, anyway.”
“Well, of course it matters! Your happiness matters!” Kara exclaims, old habits die hard what can she say?
But then Kara takes a turn from defensive to curious again, “Am I happy? Out there? I mean?”
“I- I have no idea.”
Lena waits for the answer to sink in to Kara.
“What? What do you mean you have no idea?”
“Remember when I said I hurt you?”
Kara gives her a nod.
“Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been avoiding you. Normally people tend to not seek out their exes, you know.”
She’s trying to keep it lighthearted. She’s trying not to let this Kara see how much she craves her presence, how much she wishes she could see Kara again. Don’t get her wrong, Supergirl is plastered every minute on the news, but-
That’s not who she wants to see.
“She’s miserable,” Kara answers point-blank leaving no room for argument, “If you’ve been avoiding me, I’d be miserable.”
That has Lena speechless.
Because miserable would be an understatement of how things had been ever since they ended things.
Ever since Lena ended things.
“I don’t like not being with you, you know?” Kara states as if Lena doesn’t feel the same.
“I- I don’t like that either.”
“I know.”
She has to go. Lena knows she has to go but Kara is looking at her so sincerely and she can feel the love and she knows this is nothing but an intricate trap formed by an alien parasite slowly killing her. She has to go but-
“Lena!”
The both of them are startled and four eyes immediately land to-
Kara?! No, not Kara. Supergirl.
“Supergirl,” She says; surprise coloring her voice. She didn’t know Supergirl would go in and save her. Hell, she didn’t even know how she found her. But then again, she’s tried solving the puzzle that is Kara Zor-El but had never been able to piece it together.
Supergirl takes a look at her doppelganger in bed with Lena; a scene so familiar to her. A scene she’s replayed again and again in her head. A scene that was once their reality then a memory and now an illusion. She takes a step closer.
“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-”
“-real,” Lena finishes for her and Supegirl looks stunned, “I know, Supergirl. I know how to reject my own fantasy. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”
She aims for sarcasm, because fucking fucking hell, how the fuck does anybody expect her to function if there were two Kara’s in front of her?
That was asking for too much.
Beside her, Kara had gone silent. It seems like she knows what comes next. She knows what Supergirl intends to do. They’re the same person after all.
“It’s okay,” Lena hears Kara say and she breaks away from the hero’s gaze to find Kara looking at her with those eyes again.
“It’s okay, Lena,” She repeats, “It’s okay, Supergirl’s here. You’re gonna be safe. Stay safe for me, yeah?”
“Lena we have to go. Now,” Supergirl commands from the other side of the room.
“Okay, yeah,” She whispers then she turns to Supergirl, “Just give me a chance to say goodbye, please?”
Supergirl stares at her for a moment then at Kara then she gives them both a nod and turns back to give them privacy.
“Last question?”
“Hit me.”
“What’s your surname?”
“Luthor.”
Fuck. She shouldn’t feel this surprised but damn, hearing Kara confirm it? Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this.
“Just like you promised.”
“Just like I promised.”
The words are echoed back to her and Lena hates the way she’s noticed how stiff Supergirl’s posture had become in her periphery. Ignores the fact that Supergirl has superhearing.
“Thank you for indulging me, Kara.”
“Always.”
Goodbye, darling.”
And then everything fades to black.
author’s note: hiya lovely people send me an ask if i should write a follow-up for this.
#supercorp ficlet#supercorp ficlet of sorts ig?#it's another black mercy au y'all#it's very angsty#the reckless writer somewhat writes??#the reckless writer writes#lena luthor#kara danvers#supercorp#rcklss writes
798 notes
·
View notes
Note
A thing I can stand about some SNS antis is how unwilling they are too acknowledge their own homophobia. You firstly get those that insist any shippers is automatically fetishizing mlm relationships by liking SNS despite a good bunch of the current fandom being made up of queer fans ( men, women or not - I myself am a lesbian ). There's those that grin smugly about the heteronormativity shoved in our faces: 2 canon m/f relationships can have less than half of the m/m's pairing screen time and development put together and still be considered more valid. "Umm they were never gay, they weren't written this way, why shove it down their throats?". Geez, wonder why an author originating from a culture that deals with homophobia would not be willing to even imagine the possibility of a romantic direction between his male leads. A real mystery. And the way they'll stretch out canon to its breaking point to justifying their ship's existence from the beginning while falt out dismissing stuff directly shown and stated by Naruto and Sasukw ( Naruto putting Sasuke above his Hokage dream by being ok with dying together, Sasuke himself saying Naruto is the only person standing between him and loneliness ). On that matter, many seem to have this obsession with "being planned out from the start ( their ship )". I do not understand it especially when Naruto has such a dissonance between its meta voice - the author - and the canon actually written. Kishimoto has mentioned Hinata was always watching Naruto and some sketches I think show her desing at least was in his mind from early stages, but any serious relevance from her in the canon text is non-existent. Look, Kishimoto could have claimed in an interview that Kiba was secretly the reincarnation of the Sage of Six Paths and it would have meant jack sh*t, because outside confirmation from the author is supposed to enhance what is already in the story, not create its basis from scratch. Does it matter that NH and SS were planned early on if their execution is boring at best and annoying at its worst?
As for planned early on, is there any proof, Anon?? I am asking this seriously. If you have the interview proof regarding this 'Planned from the start' bullshit, please send me the link. I want to see it with my very own eyes.
Because Kishi himself openly acknowledged in 2 interviews that NH was decided halfway through the series.
If Kishi planned about Naruto's pairing only after halfway into the series, then there's no way that he planned for Sasuke much before than that.
And you know know what? He told in a 2006 interview that he never wrote romantic relationships till then. That is after completing part 1.
So, either those antis are lying or Kishi was lying. I bet it's those antis.
When they say, 'They are not Gay'... I always retort back with, 'Well, you may be true. But saying Goodbye when staring at Naruto with so much pain in such a close proximity but didn't bother to show his face to Sakura.... Completely obsessed with a boy for 4 to 5 years of his adolescent life to the point of ready to die along with Sasuke whereas completely ignoring love proposal from 2 girls .... Completely went deranged to the point of recognizing no one and even reached the stage to kill anyone with no hesitation, including the girls who loved him with all their hearts. But the moment, a certain boy's face appear before his eyes, he stops his rampage.... These are not Straight behaviours either'...
Most people could never properly answer this, but they retort back to other bullshit which leads to an endless argument. That's not even worth it. So, I just try to avoid them like pests.
Not only that, that damn Kishimoto just painted 'not just friendly' paint on most of the posters.
I mean, the very first pic I've attached here looks like something weird is going on underneath... I showed that picture to my friend who never watched Naruto, to ask what he could infer from that picture and he asked me with a scornful look, 'It looks like these guys are jerking off and why do you have this kind of pic in your phone?'... I can't even answer that question.😂😂
The second one, God!!! Tilting their heads in the opposite direction is not suggestive of 'Kissing' at all. Because I am Blind.
I mean these are not fanmade but that bastard kishi's handiwork.
Alright leave everything, aside.
There was this day, I got an ask about how do I feel about ItaSasu ship. I flat out refused and said 'Gross'. Because I always see myself in Itachi and my sis in Sasuke. Just shipping two fictional brothers made me gross out.
And what kishi did when he let so many people openly ship SNS?
He did Nothing to stop this!!
If Kishi truly wished them to be brothers, he should not have let this scene happen in the OVA... Because, If I write a novel and somehow it is going to be adapted into a movie, I don't want my production company to depict brothers like this. I get uncomfortable if they do these things, Anon.
Also which friend would 'Accidentally' fall on another boy's duck or mouth multiple times??.
Even after their supposed 'canonical' marriages, Kishi, that sly bastard is writing scenes like these. He just could've made them shower love towards their wives like how Minato loved Kushina. But kishi be like, 'No No, I will give Kushina's role to Sasuke to talk about Naruto's stories'.
It looks like a princess who is fainting and the hero catches her up.
When we point all these out, they just pull out 'SS/NH is canon. They were meant to be from the beginning'....
All we have to do is to ignore these buffoons and let them scream amongst themselves.
#naruto#ask#naruto analysis#sns#anti sakura#anti hinata#antisakura#antihinata#sasunaru#narusasu#sasunarusasu
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
Visibility (Good Omens Fic)
Written for Lesbian Visibility Day, 2021
(26 April, 1972)
“What did you szzay?”
Beelzebub glared at the empty space before zir throne, listening to a pair of feet shuffle awkwardly.
“I just…woke up like this,” Crowley explained, in what was probably supposed to be a casual voice. “At first, I thought I was coming down with something. Flu. Hangover. Allergies. All very contagious this time of year. Really, if you haven’t been to Earth before, April is – just wait at least another month. But then I realized, s’not going away, and I thought: curse. Definitely a curse. Probably one of those angels, thwarting and all, you know how they are.”
“An angel.” The Prince of Hell tapped one finger on the arm of the throne, swarm of flies flitting around, trying to make sense of what zir own eyes weren’t telling zir. “Iszzn’t that hideouszz pieczze of real esztate you live in warded?”
“Probably. You know how it is. Get home late, really tired, swear you locked the door, but…” The footsteps – echoing as those ridiculous heeled boots struck the ground – began to circle the room. Beelzebub didn’t keep many possessions – at least, not the material sort – but Crowley seemed determined to touch them all. “Anyway, you know angels. Clever bastards.” An ornate dagger on the far table began to spin. “Or witches. Not quite as bastardly, but they cause trouble. Oh, or a cursed artifact.” Papers began rearranging themselves. “I just…I haven’t been thrift shopping in years, you know, not really my scene, not anyone’s scene anymore, but I saw this really spectacular jacket, I thought, what the Heaven? Might have some age-old horrific curse, or bedbugs, but it’s going to look stunning on the dance floor.”
Pinching zir nose, Beelzebub tried not to imagine the foolish way she was probably grinning. “And by complete coinczzidenzze,this angel, witch or…garment, juszzt happened to make you completely inviszzible on the day of your department budget review?”
“Yup.” A selection of goblets toppled to the floor with a clatter, bouncing and spinning across the floor. One rolled as if kicked, but not even Beelzebub’s cleverest flies could locate the blasted demon who had caused the mess. “I mean, not just a coincidence. Plenty of reasons. Er. The angel. Just last week, that – uh, that Aziraphale, I foiled one of her plans. Thoroughly. Foiled like…like leftover chicken. So. This could be revenge. Very unfortunately timed, but you know.”
“Indeed.” Beelzebub rose, stalking from zir throne across the floor to the spot that most strongly radiated incompetence. “And the curszze breakerszz haven’t been able to turn you back?”
“I mean, they tried.” More footsteps, hastier now, so that the echoes made them harder to track. “Course they tried. But,” she clicked her tongue, “couldn’t do it. Said they’d never seen anything like it before.” Ze would have to speak with them. No, too much trouble. Beelzebub would send the Hellhounds to take care of those idiots. “But, they did say it should wear off in…twenty-four to forty-eight hours. You know. With bed rest. Pity about the budgetary review.”
“How szzo?” Ze asked, lip curling. Every twenty-five years, like clockwork, like the courses of the blessed stars, the day of Crowley’s review, something – something highly improbably – tried to disrupt things.
“Well. I mean. Bed rest. Suggested by your curse breakers. And anyway. Can’t go like this, can I?” One of the goblets floated up from the floor, spinning in an unseen hand. “Might be disruptive.Wouldn’t want to draw attention away from Dagon – I heard, she has some fantastic charts this year. Pie graphs. One of those ones with the dots and the lines. Look at this!” From behind Beelzebub’s throne floated a ceramic pot filled with tall green plants, three dozen flies happily flitting around the attractively scented leaves. “Is this dill? Excellent choice. I’ve been doing some gardening lately, too, and let me tell you—”
“I cannot imagine anything” Beelzebub snapped, snatching the plant out of her invisible hands, “that could make you more diszzzruptive than you already are. But it appearszz you can szztill szzee, hear, and – unfortunately – szzpeak.”
“Just lucky I guess.” More pacing.
“Szzo. Dagon will be exzzpecting you in…four and a half minuteszz. I’m czzertain everyone iszz eagerly awaiting your planszz for the coming quarter-czzentury. Dagon, at leaszzt, could probably uszze the…amuszzement.”
“Course. Right. Perfect.” The footsteps began to lead towards the door. “I’ll just—”
“Szztop.” Beelzebub’s hand flew out, snapping tight around the demon’s wrist exactly as she walked past. “The otherszz will need to szzee where you are.”
“I could whistle,” she volunteered, launching into something that sounded like a tortured bird.
The Prince considered ripping her arm off and stuffing it down her throat, but the last time ze did that, the satisfaction hadn’t been worth the days of cleanup.
“Juszzt put on a hat or szzomething.”
A snap of fingers, and a band of glittering silver cloth appeared around where her waist should be. “Better? Can I go now? I’m…extremely eager to start my presentation. Ngk. Everyone is going to be impressed. This – this decade is going to put me on the map.”
“Go.”
The silver band of cloth sauntered out of the room, echoing the moronic way the demon walked. Checking the dill plant for damage, Beelzebub lowered zirself back onto the throne.
Which had, inexplicably, moved several inches back, causing zir to fall onto the floor, the potted plant shattering. “Crowley!”
--
“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Crowley muttered, stalking down the hall towards the meeting room. She’d spent a week putting this curse together, combining ones from six of Aziraphale’s most obscure grimoires, and yet she still had to make her bloody presentation. “Next time, I’ll just give myself the plague.” That had almost worked in the fourteenth century. Just needed a more impressive plague.
Ahead on the right, a door with a piece of paper taped on it reading Temptation Department Budget Group Lambda. She hesitated, fingers hovering just short of pushing it the rest of the way open. Had Beelzebub warned everyone she was invisible? More often, ze expected demons to take care of such things themselves, on pain of pain. Two minutes to spare; might as well try.
Crowley dropped the silver belt on the floor outside and slipped through the partially-open door, transforming her extremely cool boots into a pair of quieter slippers. That, at least, she could do without being sensed; shifting the shape of her feet didn’t alert the other demons the way a real miracle would.
A dozen of them sat in chairs around the conference table, grumbling about their project proposals, miracle allotments, and soul quotas. An overhead projector sat at the front of the room. It was the one with the cracked glass, projecting a broken circle of light onto a white wall. Dagon stood beside it, shuffling papers.
Crowley could try writing dirty words on a couple of the pre-made transparencies, but that didn’t seem properly demonic. Scanning the room, she spotted the wheeled coffee cart tucked in the corner, laden with a coffee pot, Styrofoam cups, plate of pastries and various flavorings. Horrid stuff. All demons were required to drink three cups of it per meeting, and to eat one of the scones, which this time appeared to be…pickled herring flavored? With orange marmalade?
There wasn’t much she could do to make that worse. She grabbed a few anyway, tucking them down the front of her shirt, and dumped the marmalade into the molten coffee, turning the temperature up as high as it would go. She’d managed to grab a fistful of wet soil and some dill from Beelzebub’s plant. Most of that went into the coffee pot, a little into the sour creamer, and the rest into the alleged sugar – probably an artificial sweetener, those were all the rage lately.
What else? She stole all the spoons, then pulled off an earring and started poking holes in the bottom of the cups with it.
With the perfect sense of timing honed from millennia of avoiding one more second in the company of her coworkers than necessary, Crowley managed to slip out the door, put on the belt, and waltz back in exactly as Dagon demanded, “Where is the demon Crowley?”
“Sorry, sorry. Feeling a bit under the weather today.” Only about three demons glanced her way with some level of surprise; the rest just got up and headed over to get their first requisite cup of coffee. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. And the traffic! The roads just get worse every year. Anyway, here now. Ready and eager. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She snagged an empty seat and dropped into it, crossing her boots on the table with a heavy thud.
Dagon sighed. “Do I even want to know what happened this time?”
“Pissed off an angel. Utterly ruined her plans. Cursed me out in the most unbelievable language, and then, well, you see. Or don’t see.”
It was certainly true enough. Aziraphale had been very upset when the “fine dining establishment” Crowley had selected for their meet-up turned out to be the hottest disco in the city. And the way she managed to express her disappointment while technically not swearing certainly strained credulity.
“Did you kill her?” Ligur asked. So unimaginative.
“No, I did something much worse.” She’d dragged Aziraphale onto the dance floor and managed almost twenty-three seconds of enthusiastic disco next to her before the angel – now bright red and flustered – had stormed out entirely. “But, we’re not here to talk about me. Let’s have it. Numbers. Spreadsheets. I heard a rumor we might see that climate change graph.”
A general groan ran around the table.
“Shut up,” Dagon snapped. “Listen up, you lot – all you idiots, and Crowley in particular. Every one of you worthless wastes of matter needs to explain what you’re going to do in the next quarter-century, how that’s going to secure souls for our Master, and why we should waste any number of miracles on your pathetic hides. Until then—”
With an icy shiver, Crowley felt her miracles vanish.
“Now. Let’s start on the success rate of last quarter-century, and if I hear one word of complaint, you can scream it from the bottom of a sulfur pool. And don’t forget your blessed coffee.”
As Dagon started her presentation, Crowley watched the coffee cart. Someone had helpfully wheeled it next to the conference table, so the demons could more easily torture themselves. Seven managed to soak their shirts and trousers from leaking cups before the marmalade clogged the pot entirely. That, however, would never be enough to cancel the meeting. Heaven, a few of them even said it tasted better than usual. Should have seen that coming.
Still. It was a start.
Crowley played with her earring, then grinned, thinking of a possibility.
“Ow!” she shouted dramatically. “Something bit me!”
“Wasn’t me,” Hastur said sullenly.
“W—no, I mean. Some kind of insect.”
“Don’t see one,” grunted another demon called Krang, sitting right beside Crowley.
“It’s right there!” Silence. Oh, right, no one could see her pointing. “There! On the coffee pot!”
Eyes narrowing, Krang leaned forward, glaring across the table at the pot, which was rattling slightly. Crowley jabbed them in the back of the neck with her earring.
“Arg! It got me!” Krang slapped at the spot, leaping out of their chair. “Did you see where it went?”
“There! On Hastur’s head!”
“Where—?” Hastur managed before Ligur swatted him so hard he fell out of his chair.
“Ah, shit!” Crowley shouted. “It got me again! No, wait, I think it’s a different one.” The demons anxiously glanced at each other, but no one else stood up. Not enough. “Oh, no! My…my hand!” Crowley tried to think of something suitable “It’s burning! Like Holy Water!” She jabbed the earring into the arm of the demon on her other side.
“Bloody—It got me too!” He was on his feet in an instant. “I can feel it burning already!”
“And me!” That demon wasn’t even near Crowley. She grinned. It was working.
“What are these things?”
“I can feel it crawling on my leg.”
“My neck is swelling up!”
“Sit down!” Dagon snapped, baring her teeth. “I don’t want to hear another word about bloody insects. You’re demons. Act like it! Or I’ll make it four cups.”
The room froze – silent, apart from the now-continuous rattle of the coffee pot – as a dozen demons weighed the fear of some sort of terrifying unseen holy insect versus drinking more of the vile brew.
So Crowley ripped a handful of scone out of her top and crumbled it. “What – my hair!” She tossed the crumbs across the table. “Are – are those larvae?”
Everyone shuffled back a few steps.
“I don’t think you heard me—” Dagon started, in a tone that suggested Crowley was about to lose the room. So she went all in.
“Oh, Satan!” She shouted, falling dramatically from her chair. “They’re – they’re crawling into my ears!” That earned a few nervous glances, so she took a deep breath and gave her best horror-movie scream. “That angel! She did something to me!”
“Crowley!” Dagon shouted. “Stop acting out right now,or I swear to Satan, I’ll—”
She never found out what Dagon wanted to do to her, though, because at that moment the coffee pot exploded, lid flying off, scalding brown liquid splashing in every direction, along with blobs of now-runny marmalade.
Never one to let an opportunity go by, no matter how unexpected, Crowley cried, “Eggs! They’re nesting in the coffee! Who drank that?”
A perfect panic set in, and there was nothing Dagon could do to stop all the demons – including Crowley – from evacuating the room.
--
In the confusion that followed, everyone lost track of a certain invisible demon. How sad. And totally unexpected, Crowley thought, climbing into the Bentley. Too bad I kept the radio off and didn’t go to the cinema. Otherwise, they could summon me back. If she were careful, she could have days to finish coming up with her proposal.
But first, a little fun. Grinning, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what kind of trouble she could get into next.
Well. One way to find out.
The London police were extremely disappointing that morning. It took nearly eight minutes of driving around at top speed, running red lights, and blaring her horn outside rich-looking homes before one finally started chasing her.
Slamming into top gear, she raced down the busiest streets, whipping around corners, weaving through traffic, making sure not to get too far ahead. The second patrol car joined in somewhere near Oxford Street, the third during a quick jaunt up towards Regent’s Park. When she’d collected four, sirens blaring as they struggled to keep up with her flawless driving, she spotted a side street and lurched into it with a complicated 270-degree-spin finished with the nose of the Bentley facing the approaching cars.
Then she settled back in her seat and waited.
--
The black monstrosity finally slid to a stop. Officer Mills kept her eyes on it while her partner slowed their own car to a stop.
“We sure he’s not just going to run?” She asked, trying to spot the driver. The glare off the windshield must be playing tricks on her eyes; she couldn’t see a thing.
“We surround it,” Harmon said. “Got to be enough of us, even if they try to make trouble.”
Six officers eased out of their cars, silently trying to decide who should approach the window. Mills won – or lost – and took the lead, Harmon close behind her. He was the only one armed; she felt a little better for that, in case the driver turned out to be dangerous, though most likely she figured he would try to plow through the police cars to get away. They couldn’t do much in that case apart from try to kick the tires in passing.
“Think it’s stolen?” Harmon asked as a few others moved to try and block the street beyond the idling nightmare. “Teenagers messing around?”
“Could be,” Mills said doubtfully. “It’s vintage, though. Really old. And whoever was driving knows what they’re doing.”
Anderson waved from the far side of the vehicle. Everyone was in position. Mills nodded and walked up to the window, prepared for a lunatic – or a drunk – or someone on an awful lot of drugs.
Instead, it was completely empty.
“What…” She glanced back at Harmon. “No one. Did he bail out?”
“We’d have seen. Check the back seat.”
“Nothing. Wait. There’s…a tin of biscuits. That’s all.”
Down the street, Anderson crouched, checking underneath. Nothing there, apparently. Slowly, the police approached, one by one relaxing as they confirmed that yes – the car was empty.
The driver side window was open. Mills stuck her head in, glancing up and down. Nothing. No sign of what had happened to the driver. The engine still gently rumbled, and the door was locked. She definitely would have noticed if someone had stayed there long enough to lock it through the window.
“I’ll call to have it towed,” Harmon said, stepping back. She could hear the confused frown in his voice. “Maybe we’ll find…something…when we search it.”
By this point, even the officers who had waited in the patrol cars had joined them, crowded along the sides of the black vintage monster, testing doors and peering through windows. Mills leaned in to unlock the driver side door. “But where could he have gone?”
“She,” a soft voice said near Mills’s ear, and something tapped against her nose. “And I haven’t gone anywhere.”
Mills stumbled back as the radio burst to life.
You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day…
Everyone spun in place, looking for the source of the music from a nearby window or door, shouting at shadows, so only Mills was watching as the pedals and gear stick moved themselves.
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side…
The ghost car – what else could she be? – shot backwards up the street, faster than should have been possible, spun a full 360-degree turn, then straightened up and drove away, blending into traffic with a cheerful toot of the horn.
Mills finally blinked.
“Harmon?” She called. “You do the paperwork on this one. I need a drink.”
--
Crowley danced in her seat far more than she usually would, but for once no one could see her.
Made the scene
Week to week
Day to day
Hour to – Crowley!
She nearly slammed on the brakes as Jim Morrison began to sound an awful lot like Dagon. Shit. Forgot about that.
“Ahhhh…speaking?”
“Who, exactly, gave you permission to leave?”
“Oh. Ahhh.” She glanced out the window at a row of businesses and pulled over in front of some kind of barber shop. “I thought, what with all the insects—”
“There were no insects!”
“There weren’t?” Crowley really needed to work on her innocent voice. “I must be hallucinating. Better go home and lie down until it passes.”
“Crowley. Your budget proposal is due by the end of the day. Do you want to be stranded up there without miracles? Do you know what we do to demons who fail to meet their quotas?”
She knew that. She’d been told, several times, exactly what to expect. “Nnnnnh…I’ve got – it’s going to be a big project. Very big. More souls than…than wasps have larvae. Just need to work on my proposal in a secure, bug-free location.”
“Crowley! Do you think for one second—”
“Ah! They’re coming out of the radio!” Crowley cut the sound.
She sat in the Bentley, tapping her fingers on the wheel.
I just hung up on Dagon. They’re going to kill me. Worse, they’re going to send me down to file in the archives for a thousand years.
Then again, they’d have to find her first.
And, she was finding, her current state presented the kind of temptations even a demon couldn’t ignore…
--
Graham Palmer had been trying to get into the barber shop for twenty minutes.
The door was stuck fast. No matter how he rattled and pulled, it wouldn’t budge, as if something enormous had pinned it shut. And yet, every time he stepped back to let other patrons try, the door opened easily, but slammed as if pulled shut whenever he approached. He even tried slipping through behind another customer, but then it stayed shut until Graham stepped back. There was just no way in.
Now he hammered on the window, trying to get his barber’s attention. “Stuart! Stuart! What the hell are you trying to pull?”
The barber looked up from his current customer, blinking in confusion, and jerked his head towards the door.
“I tried that, it doesn’t bloody work!” A young man half his age walked past, giving Graham a funny look, and pulled open the shop door. Graham dove to follow him, but again it snapped shut, almost catching his nose. He pounded the door with his fist, glaring at the customers inside. “I’m going to be late!”
Across the shop, Stuart put down his scissors and shouted something. All Graham caught was “…break my glass…”
There was an idea.
He crossed the pavement to where an ancient black car was parked, removing his jacket. Wrapping it around his arm for protection, he charged forward, bracing himself for impact.
The door swung open in front of him and before he could stop himself, Graham tripped over – something – there didn’t appear to be anything – and sprawled on his face, sliding across the linoleum floor.
“Watch yourself, dearie,” a cheerful woman’s voice said, but when he looked up, no one was there.
--
Crowley strolled around the park, her new domain, another time.
Over there, at the edge of the path, was the Strange Chill area. Anyone who paused there, perhaps studying the slightly askew sign that seemed to indicate the exit was in the fountain, would feel a touch on their shoulder, a tickle on the back of their neck, or hear heavy breathing with no source.
Over here, near the ice cream cart, was the Creepy Bush. Originally just generic ghost noises, Crowley eventually discovered what really freaked humans out was a disembodied voice whispering their name, or something they’d said in private a few minutes before. She followed strolling couples around, listening in on anything good, and when one stopped to by the other ice cream, just really let loose on the one standing by the bushes. They usually started clinging much more closely to their partner after that, so really, Crowley was doing them a favor. Instant relationship counseling.
Across from the fountain sat the Haunted Bench. Crowley really went wild with that one. Children’s songs in a creepy voice. Branches shaking with no wind. Possessions floating away from wherever they’d been set down. Really, anything was allowed.
The narrow path leading through the tulips was the Asshole Road. Anyone Crowley caught being an asshole in her park was subtly sent that direction, pickpocketed, and then beset by bees, or at least a very convincing humming and a few pricks from an invisible earring.
The fountain itself was Rare Coins and Lost Items. Her third pickpocket victim had been carrying a tube of very powerful epoxy, and it turns out the coin-stuck-to-the-sidewalk trick was even better when you glued it underwater. A few pieces of jewelry at the bottom were also glued in place, but most of the valuables were simply tossed in or – if they weren’t waterproof – hung from the sculpture of frolicking animals in an amusing way. Crowley mostly just kept the cash, and even then only if the Assholes had been particularly cruel. So far, she’d accumulated almost five hundred pounds.
It was either the best park in London, or the worst.
She leaned against the clock – now set forty-eight and a half minutes slow – and surveyed the chaos. Two teenagers were frantically trying to get something out of the fountain, while the Asshole who’d sworn at that lovely gay couple was now soaked through, desperately trying to get his watch back from the ear of a sculpted rabbit seven feet high. That had been hard to get into place, but certainly worth it. The couple, meanwhile, were hand-in-hand, clutching ice creams and hurrying away from what had been for them the Creepy but Oddly Affirming Bush. The lady with the dog that had made a mess by the roses was trying to report the Haunted Bench to a cop, who tiredly insisted it was her lunch break and that the lady would not believe the morning she’d had.
Crowley grinned up at the sky. This – this was what it was all about. Forget budget meetings and presentations. Who did that make miserable, apart from the demons themselves? This park had everything: temptation, fear, frustration, justice, ice cream, and perfect weather.
“Hey. Hey you feathered wankers,” someone shouted, followed by the sound of rattling pebbles and angry quacking.
Tipping down her invisible shades, Crowley spotted some young idiot chucking handfuls of rocks at the ducks. Most were fleeing, but one flapped her wings, panicked and possessive, over a nest. One of the eggs had already been broken.
Looks like another volunteer for Asshole Road. Crowley was already eying their watch.
--
Every bakery has that one customer. Probably every place that sold food.
The one that demands impossible standards, not because of any particular love of fine cuisine, but just because they can.
The one that counts the blueberries in their muffin and lets you know if there aren’t enough.
The one who spends five minutes shouting, “No, not that one, that one,” while providing no other information, until their server had touched everything in the display case.
The one who complains that their brownie is too chocolatey.
The customer who somehow gets away with murder on account of being someone’s spouse, or sibling, or old school friend.
Victoria Lockwood was that customer, and as Riley watched her approach, they held their breath in trepidation.
“This scone,” she snapped, dropping her plate onto the counter, “is not right.” Then she glared at Bailey, waiting for a response.
“Is it…” Bailey’s mind raced, trying to work out what might be wrong. “The wrong flavor?” Victoria’s face only darkened. “Um. Is – is it dry?” But most of that batch had sold without a single complaint. “Did you want…more lemon curd? Or—”
“It is not hot enough.”
“Ah.” Of course. They’d taken that batch out nearly an hour ago; the next was ready to go in. “If you’re willing to wait, um…twenty minutes? I can give you the first—”
“Twenty minutes? What kind of service is that? I want my scone now.” She glanced at the tray coming out of the oven. “Why are you making me wait? What are those?”
Bailey glanced back and relaxed for a moment. “Oh – yes, I can get you one right now. They’re Raspberry Almond Butterm—”
“Disgusting!” Victoria rapped her hand against the counter. “That is not what I ordered! I demand you warm this one up, immediately.”
“I…” Bailey glanced at their coworkers, but everyone was avoiding eye contact. “That’s…I can put it back in the oven but that would probably dry—”
“Fine.” She shoved the plate towards them. “Be quick about it, young lady, I don’t like to wait.” She clearly noticed the way Bailey flinched. “If you don’t want to be mistaken for a girl, I suggest you get a proper haircut. And not that hideous shade of pink.”
“Y’s ma’am,” Bailey muttered, because some arguments would never be worth it. They took back the scone and put it on a baking tray. Maybe if it was only in the oven for a minute or two—
“Victoria Lockwood!” Bailey spun around, searching for who had called out. Not anyone else behind the counter, they all had their heads ducked, concentrating on some other tasks. But there – on the counter – a scone sat on Victoria’s plate.
She looked up from her makeup compact, smiled triumphantly, and took a bite out of it.
Her face immediately went green, and she dropped plate and pastry, running out of the bakery faster than Bailey had ever seen anyone move. They rushed forward, ready to call after her, but very much not wanting to, and picked up the discarded scone – it smelled awful, like vinegar and fish.
There was also an enormous wad of banknotes on the counter, wrapped up in a scrap of paper with a note: Kid – Don’t take that shit from anyone. Flip off your boss when you quit. <3 C
The bakery door opened and shut on its own.
--
Well, there was an entire day’s pickpocketing gone in a moment, but it wasn’t like Crowley had a better use for it. She still had a few rare coins, but after the fountain, sticking them to the ground seemed an anticlimax. She’d had some fun modifying the haunting routine for the bus or Underground, but both would be filled with commuters now a ghost that swears when you elbow her in the ribs on a crowded train is…not as impressive.
Still. Not a bad day overall. The most expensive foods in the corner marked had all been re-priced, several examples of hostile architecture had been mysteriously destroyed, enough people would be sharing stories of “hauntings” that the whole city would need to be exorcised, and – just for the Heaven of it – she’d followed a particularly annoying human for almost an hour, up and down the streets, buzzing in his ear.
Really, it was the simple pleasures that made the world so enjoyable.
And speaking of simple pleasures, Crowley had left one particular part of the city for last.
Strolling down the streets of Soho, which was just waking up while more respectable – but far less fun – parts of the city were winding down, she kept her eyes open for anyone who might make a good target. A few possibilities presented themselves, but in the end her destination proved the stronger draw.
A. Z. Fell’s Bookshop.
It was just the right time of day, when the customers would still be bothering Aziraphale, and she would be running short of patient ways to refuse them and start turning to biting sarcasm and, on occasion, outright threats. She’d probably appreciate a little haunting to help chase them off, once Crowley had finished stealing her cocoa, moving her bookmarks, and changing the record in the gramophone.
But, glancing in the window, Crowley saw something that poured cold water all over her brilliant day.
Gabriel.
Michael and Uriel, too. Probably Sandalphon lurking around.
Aziraphale stood before her bosses, hands clutched anxiously, that eager, ready-to-please face that made Crowley’s chest ache. Some, when faced with the beings who had hurt them so many times, became afraid, or angry, or distressed. But Aziraphale…just wanted approval. A kind word.
Crowley glared at Gabriel. The Heaven are you up to this time?
For once, she would be able to find out.
--
“And, I really think,” Aziraphale said, hands twisting like captured rodents as she rambled, “that this past decade in particular,I’ve – I’ve accomplished many things. Um. I – I prepared a list…somewhere…” her eyes darted to the disaster she called a desk, and she started shifting material objects around, smiling nervously. Guiltily.
“Is this going to take long?” Gabriel asked with a pointed sigh.
“No! I just…one moment…”
“We’re already running late,” Uriel commented. “We’d expected you to be better prepared.”
“Of course.” Aziraphale snatched up a book and began flipping through it frantically, as if it might contain the answers she needed. “Only, ah, you didn’t actually say when you would be coming…”
“We did say between the 3rd of January and 28th of October,” Michael pointed out reasonably.
“Oh. Um. I…”
“Something doesn’t seem…right,” Sandalphon said, stepping close to Aziraphale, putting a hand on her shoulder. The book she held tumbled from her fingers. “This whole place has a…smell about it.”
The door slammed behind them. Gabriel glanced back, but couldn’t see it from where he stood. Sandalphon gave Aziraphale’s shoulder another squeeze, then headed over to check on it.
“I thought,” Gabriel said slowly, making sure the slow-witted Principality heard every word, “I told you to lock the door.”
“It was.” Aziraphale’s eyes had gone wide. “I – I mean I did.”
Gabriel pursed his lips and shook his head. This had been a particularly disappointing review. Disappointing in the sense that their agent had once again conclusively failed to present evidence of meaningful victories towards Heaven’s cause. Less disappointing in that, whether she knew it or not, Aziraphale had already given him what he needed to take the arrogant fool down a few pegs.
In six thousand years, she’d barely managed to do a single thing right, yet somehow always came to him simpering and smiling like she deserved all the accolades of Heaven. Well, he’d been patient, as suited an Archangel, as patient as he could. But once per century, he had the opportunity to make his opinion perfectly clear.
Take away her miracles for a start, he thought. Though that didn’t seem to work nearly as well as it had a few centuries ago. Maybe recall her to Heaven for a year or two, re-educate her on the basics of her duty. There might be enough for a period of isolation. With restraints. They’d done that once, about three thousand years before, after a particularly poor review. Seven years chained up in an empty corner of Heaven, and Aziraphale had been wonderfully pliable for centuries after. Perhaps it was time to revisit.
“Look – look here, I have a list of…oh.” Aziraphale held out her book again, which seemed to be filled with irregular scrawl instead of the usual neatly printed words. “I started a list of accomplishments, but ah…I became busy the last few years. Um. Quite a lot has happened since…”
Uriel took the book and studied it, face impressively calm. “Interesting,” they said, not giving anything away as they turned the pages over. Gabriel trusted them to spot anything useful.
As the Archangels waited in pointed silence, Michael walked her fingers across a table. She pressed a thumb against a book, sliding it to the edge. Aziraphale stared as it teetered, then found its balance again. Michael watched it, disinterested, then moved on to another book, sliding that forward as well.
Sandalphon stepped back beside Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. No sign of anything. Well. More questions for later.
Uriel reached the final page.
“What happened in 1967?”
“Nothing!” At the panic in Aziraphale’s tone, all four Archangels raised their eyebrows. “I – I – I mean, yes, lots, many – many—” One of the books beside Michael fell to the floor with a slap. The Principality winced. “I – I’m terribly sorry, could you be more specific?”
“Your final entry,” Uriel held the book out to Aziraphale, “says 1967 – Prevented… Prevented what?”
“Ahhhhhh.” Aziraphale squirmed. “Well, I…I…there was…ummm…”
“As I recall,” Michael said slowly, “you briefly visited Heaven that year, but didn’t officially report to any of us. And then didn’t return for at least…six months? Very unusual.”
“You haven’t been hiding something, have you?” Gabriel smiled, his heart rising. More than isolation. He could probably take away this shop, for a start, give it to a more trustworthy angel.
“Nnnnno.” Aziraphale gave that particular smile, the one that meant she thought she was about to get away with something. The one she thought Gabriel didn’t know about. “But, ahhh, if you could, um, quite a lot happened in the world in the…the last ten years or so.”
Something crashed on the other side of the building. No, he’d have the place demolished. It was falling apart already. Aziraphale could watch. Maybe he could order her to help. An eminently suitable punishment for wasting his time. “As I understand it,” he said, taking a step forward, “the last decade saw…war, riots, assassinations…”
“Well, well, yes, I…but, if you look at progress with, um, civil rights, ahh…anticolonialism…”
More made-up human terms. Gabriel and Michael shared a pained glance. “Look. Aziraphale.” Gabriel pressed his hands together. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate you taking the initiative, but…what does any of this have to do with your orders?”
“Or, for that matter, with your visit to Heaven?” Michael moved her fingers across the table again, coming to rest on one of those stupid little figurines Aziraphale had accumulated. Like a packrat. A human depiction of an angel, as some kind of soft, happy baby with wings. Not a warrior at all. Michael’s finger tapped against it. “What were you trying to prevent?”
“Did it have something to do with…Holy Water?” Sandalphon suddenly asked.
“That’s right,” Gabriel said. Something clicking in his mind. “There was that storage jar that went missing.” Did Aziraphale look more guilty than usual? “What year was that?”
“1967,” Uriel said.
He couldn’t hold back the smile. If he could prove Aziraphale had taken Holy Water for some sort of personal use, well.
He’d pretty much be justified whatever he decided to do.
“I – I – I can explain.” The Principality tried to back away, but was stopped by her own desk. “There – there was this demon, an – an especially, ah, wily, cunning, um, crafty demon—”
“Was there?” Michael’s finger twitched, sending the false angel off the table. It fell—
Then hovered, halfway to the floor.
Slowly, it lifted, rightening itself in the air before them. There was no trace of a miracle, no power of any kind. It simply…floated. Drifting through the air to land on the desk beside Aziraphale.
“Clever,” said Gabriel, watching the Principality’s face for any sign of deception. “How did you do that?”
“I…”
The pages of a book, laid out on the stand behind her, began to turn, flipping faster and faster, slamming shut.
“This…isn’t me.” Aziraphale said.
Behind her, books began to float off their shelves. One rocketed across the room towards Gabriel. He dodged it easily, but it was followed by another, and another. The lights flickered overhead.
“If it isn’t you,” Gabriel began, but a small table by the door to the next room began to rattle. Atop it lay a black-and-white board covered with formless carvings, which lifted into the air, then exploded, pieces flying at the Archangels. Gabriel easily batted them aside, but now one of the armchairs began to shift.
Without a word, the four prepared for battle, Gabriel stepping back, Michael and Sandalphon moving to the front. At least, that was the plan – the moment he tried to move, Gabriel fell, his feet somehow tightly bound together. The same happened to Sandalphon and Uriel, and even Michael stumbled, knocking over a table in her haste to stay upright.
Glass rattled in the back of the shop.
“It’s…” Aziraphale cleared her throat. “It’s that same demon again! I thought I’d banished her!”
“What?” Banishing wasn’t exactly something angels did.
“The – the Holy Water!” A bottle of something hovered out from the back room, moving slowly but threateningly. “Did you bring any? It’s the only thing that can stop her.”
“What are you talking about?” Michael’s sword manifested in her hand. “What demon?”
“Crowley! She – she seems to have grown even more powerful!”
“Crowley?” Not that worthless snake again. How many times had he been assured – through Michael’s secret back-channel sources – that Crowley was the most useless, incompetent, lazy demon in Hell? And yet somehow, not a single angel had ever successfully dealt with her – except Aziraphale.
“I thought I smelled a demon,” Sandalphon said, pulling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “But I can’t sense demonic power.”
“Obviously not!” Aziraphale’s wings burst from her back, and she held out a hand towards the hovering bottle. It slowly lowered itself to the ground. “Why do you think she’s so difficult to defeat? The power she uses – it’s not of Heaven or Hell! I – I can barely counter it!”
“Let me, then,” Michael said, predatory gleam in her eyes. Like Sandalphon, she’d removed her shoes; Gabriel was working on his own, but somehow the laces had become wound together like snakes, something sticky sealing the knot shut.
Sandalphon and Michael stepped forward, swords at the ready. “No!” Aziraphale turned to block them, and immediately the rattling started up again – this time from the metal stairs to the upper floor. “You – you don’t understand! Wh – when she gets like this – the fires would only make her stronger.”
Something – horrible, screeching noises – began emanating from the back room, like some animal being torn apart.
“That’s – that’s why I need the Holy Water! In the proper ritual, it – it – it’s too complicated to explain!”
A cupboard burst open, revealing a display of holy items – consecrated Bibles, holy symbols, sticks of incense and jars of oil. “No!” Aziraphale shouted, genuine panic in her voice.
The largest, heaviest of the Bibles lifted and shot across the room. It didn’t reach the Archangels, but Gabriel could see smoke rising from its cover.
Next came a crucifix, spinning end over end, which Michael caught out of the air. The wood was burned all along one side.
“Don’t you see?” Aziraphale said, eyes round. “Nothing I have in there can stop her! What could a flaming sword even do? I need more Holy Water.” A jar of oil fell to the ground and immediately began to boil, bubbling and steaming. “I’ll try to hold her back as long as I can.” Aziraphale’s face furrowed in concentration as she walked across the shop. “Please, it – it’s far too dangerous for you here…”
“Right.” Gabriel glanced at the other Archangels. Something wasn’t right. But they couldn’t risk themselves against an unknown force. “We’ll…we’ll get some Holy Water. You do what you can.”
With a thought, the ascended to Heaven.
Gabriel quickly stood up, brushing down his clothing and trying to school his expression. “Well. I think the best course of action is to wait a day or two, then go see what the damage is.”
“And Aziraphale’s review?” Uriel asked, face somehow still calm, despite everything that had happened.
“I just hope we don’t have to give her a damn commendation again.”
--
The Arch-Wankers vanished in a shimmer of blue light.
“Ow, ow, fuck that hurts!” Crowley gasped, stumbling away from the spilled oil and shaking her hands. “What kind of stuff do you keep in there?”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale started to rush forward, then froze. “Where are you? Can’t you – reveal yourself, or whatever?”
“Nnnnnnnnope. Rrrrrgh, how does this hurt more than walking in a church?”
“I…I’m sorry, my dear girl,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve been worried lately that if – if your side realized what was happening…I thought it best to have a little insurance of my own.”
“Well it works.” Crowley managed to reach one of the shop chairs and sank into it. “Over here…no, here! Where’s…” She nudged the rug with her least-burnt toe, folding a bit of it up. Aziraphale immediately ran over.
“That was – well, that was clever, Crowley, but highly unnecessary. I – I was only having my performance review. I thought I was doing quite well.” Her soft hands found one of Crowley’s and picked it up, fingers tracing across the palm.
“I…” Crowley had seen the way Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the mention of Holy Water, while she was on the ground gluing his shoelaces together, and she counted it among the most terrifying things she’d ever seen. “I’m sure you were, but vanquishing some super-powerful demon? Saving the Archangels? Well, that’s only going to help, right?”
“Hmmm.” Another brush of her fingers, and the sting started to go out of Crowley’s palms. “And, I’m sure, spark a few rumors that might help you?”
“Oh.” Crowley grimaced, looking out the windows. “Unless those rumors spread really fast, I doubt I’m going to get much benefit.”
“What do you mean?” Aziraphale sank to the ground, patting around until she found one of Crowley’s feet. She gently lifted it, stroking from ankle to toe and giving it the same healing treatment. “And why are you like this?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“Crowley.”
“Right. Um. I…may have…borrowed a few of your books and…designed a curse to get out of my quarter-century budget review. But in my defense – it’s so boring.”
Aziraphale sighed – or possibly blew a healing breath across Crowley’s feet. No, probably the sigh, but at least they felt a bit better. “My dear, it’s only a meeting. There’s no need for these – these histrionics.”
“Histri—Angel, that is – I am not – can you grab a dictionary? I need to know how upset I should be.”
“Extremely.”
“Right. I am. And…I thought it would only last a few hours. Have a bit of fun. But…I need my miracles for, you know, ambient healing, and…look, they cut off our miracles during the review, and only give them back once you’ve wowed them with your project idea.”
“And you don’t have one, do you?”
“Not…as such.” Crowley hung her head. “I…I thought I could get an extension. Just long enough to think of something.”
“So you cursed yourself.” That pained look, the I-hate-to-tell-you-how-much-you-failed-but-also-I-love-it look. Only slightly ruined by the fact that it was aimed somewhere over the demon’s left shoulder. “Crowley, did it never occur to you that in the time it took you create such a thing, you could just as easily have come up with a project?”
“Nh.”
“And did you come up with your brilliant idea during your delay?”
“Nnnh.”
“Well. At least you’re sorry now, I assume?”
“Nope.” If she hadn’t skipped out, Crowley wouldn’t have been here to help Aziraphale. She’d saved her friend countless times over six thousand years, but sometimes…she was quite happy the angel didn’t notice. “No, demons don’t get sorry. We get…” she grunted. “We get annoyed at ourselves for…ngk…for hanginupndagonnpissinheroff.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“For hanging up on Dagon and pissing her off.” Crowley rubbed her face. “Unless I can think of the greatest project any demon ever came up with…” Her stomach dropped as the reality of it hit. A thousand years in filing meant a thousand years without Aziraphale’s bastard looks and gentle touches. “I’m…probably going to be gone for a while.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale stroked her fingers across Crowley’s foot one more time. “No, that won’t do at all.” She looked up with that icy, determined look. The let-me-speak-to-your-manager expression that made Crowley go completely light-headed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to do something about all this.”
“Like what?”
“How are your feet?”
“F—hmm? Oh, fine.” They were – Aziraphale seemed to have removed all the pain. Or at least, she’d removed some of the pain, and the fluttery feeling in Crowley’s chest allowed her to ignore the rest. “So. Um. What did you have in mind? Oh!” A grin stretched across her face. “Dagon and Beelzebub already think you cursed me. Maybe we can stage a second fight where they see it. I’ll definitely get an extension that way.”
“Or.” Aziraphale found Crowley’s hands again and laced their fingers together, pulling her to her feet. “We can go for a drive in that beastly car of yours and actually come up with a proper idea. Something convoluted, demonic, and with that…Crowley style.”
“I have a style now?”
“Hmmm. Yes. Not as refined as mine, but I think we can make it work.” Her right hand squeezed Crowley’s, and her left slid up the demon’s arm to her shoulder. “You know, I had a little over a century apart from you. And I have absolutely no desire to repeat that. In fact I…I rather think I prefer your company to, well. Anyone’s.”
“Nnnnh.” Crowley shuffled her feet and clutched Aziraphale’s hand back, guiding the angel to stand just a little closer. Needing to say something. Afraid to say too much. “Ssssss. Mmmm. Yeah. I, uh. I like it better up here, too. Y’know. Where you are.”
“Yes, I know.” Aziraphale’s left hand slid further up, coming to rest on the back of her neck. “I can see right through you. My dear Crowley.” With the lightest pressure, she tipped the demon’s head down.
And kissed her, soft lips covering Crowley’s shocked mouth.
“Oh…” Aziraphale gasped, pulling back slightly, hardly at all. “I, ah…I meant to…” Her breath still tickled Crowley’s lips. “I…forehead…”
“Nrrh.” Crowley’s free hand drifted forward, finding Aziraphale’s hip, resting on it, barely a touch. It was all she dared. “Ah…?”
Neither of them moved. Or both did. Or they stood still and the world around them shifted. Whichever way it was, their lips touched again, and held this time. Slowly, they drifted closer, caught in each other’s gravity, a decaying orbit. Crowley would surely burn up on approach, but it was worth every moment.
Eventually they parted, once more just enough to breathe, to speak, to remember that they were two beings and not a single, burning soul.
“Not…” Crowley swallowed. “Not too fast?”
“I…” Aziraphale bit her lip. “I don’t know. But…Crowley…I know…where I want to go. Eventually.”
Their foreheads pressed together. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Aziraphale nodded, dropping left hand falling away, right thumb rubbing the back of Crowley’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. “Oh, my word!”
“What?” Crowley glanced at herself, black cloth trousers flared wide at the legs, tight red sleeveless shirt cut scandalously low in the front and back, boots with heels that made her even taller than usual—
She was visible again.
“I…I suppose I was still healing you when we…oh…oh, Crowley…what are you wearing?”
“Angel, it’s – I look fashionable, you look – have you changed anything in the last century?”
“I…a few things! Were you honestly planning to give a presentation like that?”
“I was going to be invisible, yeah!”
“You…are…” Aziraphale pressed her eyes shut. “I am going to get my jacket. And then I’m going to get you a jacket, because it’s cold at night, and you are cold-blooded.”
“M’not,” Crowley muttered.
“And then we will go for our ride and determine what evil, dastardly plan I will spend the next twenty-five years thwarting. Is that clear?”
“Yes.” After a moment, Crowley said, “Ah, Aziraphale?”
“What is it now?”
“At some point, are you going to let go of my hand?”
Aziraphale glanced down. “Oh. Hmm. I suppose we’ll find out.”
--
(Fifty Years Later)
Crowley sat beneath the apple tree, her hand clutched tightly in Aziraphale’s, leaning back against her angel’s chest. “And that,” she concluded, “is why we call the 26th of April Lesbian Visibility Day.”
The Them stared at the two supernatural beings, mouths slightly open.
“You…” Pepper started, “are full of so much shit.”
“Oi!”
“Actually,” Wensley said, “that’s…one of the worst stories I’ve ever heard. How are you supposed to budget miracles?”
“If they could cut you off that easy,” Brian jumped in, “why didn’t they do it when you left Hell?”
“Oh, ummm,” she glanced up at Aziraphale.
“Tactics,” the angel said enigmatically.
Pepper didn’t even seem to be listening. “How did you know what all those people were thinking?”
“That’s right,” Wensley nodded. “Particularly Gabriel.”
“He…he has a very expressive face,” Crowley argued.
“How’d you actually move around like that, without anyone hearing you? The whole day?”
“Shouldn’t you’ve been, you know, way more worried about getting killed?”
“At least one of those bookshop attacks wasn’t even possible, unless you were in two places at once.”
“And how d’you accidentally leave your healing on?”
“How could you possibly mistake her lips for her forehead?”
“This was rubbish.”
“What do you think, Adam?”
The former Antichrist looked up from where he was playing with Dog. “I think…” He gave the angel and demon a penetrating look, then shook his head, smiling as if he’d just seen the joke at the center of the universe, and it had turned out to be a truly terrible pun. “I think you should just tell us the next story.”
“Which one’s that?” Crowley asked, settling back into the curve of her angel’s arm, fingers still twined together.
“The one with the greatest project any demon ever came up with.”
“Oh.” Grinning, Crowley tipped her head to meet Aziraphale’s shining eyes. “Wahoo.”
--
The song is "Break on Through (To the Other Side)" by the Doors, because Queen had not yet put out their first album, though there was a lot of pressure in the Discord to have Crowley dancing to Abba instead.
Final scene set next year because we'll all be sitting together under apple trees with our loved ones and telling BS stories to kids before we know it.
For everyone who contributed non-anonymous suggestions:
@amidst-innumerable-stars @tangle5ancer @fenrislorsrai @feuerkindjana @bowser14456 @taksez @yeahhiyellow @infinitevariety @gargelyfloof118 @lourek @soft-forest-rain @undertaker991 @jules-al-c @lov-lyness2 @thisleadstohollyhocks @marianrios33 @aux-barricades @lostmemimi @joybones @derederest @myusernameispie @mothmans-favorite-lamp and @n0nb1narydemon (yes I did find a way to level up the coin gluing!) and of course @5ftjewishcactus who encouraged me when you really shouldn't. Sorry I couldn't fit in everyone's suggestions!
#good omens prime#good omens fanfiction#ineffable wives#crowley#anthony janthony crowley#female crowley#female aziraphale#good omens crack#good omens fluff#crack#fluff#aziraphale#aziraphale and crowley#lesbian visibility day#visibility#lesbian visibility week#crowley thwarts herself#beelzebub#dagon#hastur#ligur#gabriel#bad angels#the them#isaac asimov informs me this is a shaggy dog story#since he published and got paid for several and never felt ashamed i guess i'm not either#my writing#my fanfiction#tumblr fic#this got away from me
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.
Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.
It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.
And then he looks at Toni.
He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—
“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”
After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.
“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”
“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.
“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.
“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.
“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”
Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”
Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.
“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.
———
reasons not to kiss her
1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth
Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.
She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.
The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.
Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.
At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.
Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.
———
At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.
“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”
“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”
“What?” Nora asks.
“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.
“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.
“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”
“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”
Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.
“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”
Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”
“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”
“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.
She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.
———
2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves
The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.
“Well?”
Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”
Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”
Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”
Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”
“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”
“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.
“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.
She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.
“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”
“He becomes my business when you—”
“When I what?” Shelby asked.
Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”
Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”
“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”
“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”
“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”
She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.
———
Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.
“It’s not mine,” Regan says.
“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.
Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”
“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.
Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.
“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”
“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.
Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”
“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.
“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”
Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.
Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.
“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.
“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.
Martha’s eyes light up.
———
3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all
Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.
But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.
On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.
“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”
She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.
———
“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”
Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.
“Maybe it���s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.
Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.
“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.
“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”
“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”
“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”
“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”
“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”
The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.
“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.
“Except you did,” Martha snaps.
Toni winces.
“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”
“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”
No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.
———
4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’
“Shelby?”
Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.
“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.
Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.
“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.
Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.
Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.
“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”
“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.
“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”
“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.
“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”
“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”
“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”
Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”
“Neither do I,” Shelby said.
“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.
Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.
“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”
———
“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”
His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.
There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.
Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.
“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”
“Marcus,” Toni says.
“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”
“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.
His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.
“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”
“Can you what?”
“Can I ask her out?”
Toni blinks at him. “What?”
“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”
She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.
Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.
It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.
Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.
So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.
“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.
“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”
A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?
“You’re in my honors English class right?”
Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”
“I have a better idea.”
———
5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again
Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.
Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.
She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.
Toni wondered if she’d die.
Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.
Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.
“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.
“I—”
“I’m not done.”
Toni’s mouth clamped shut.
“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”
“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“You’re right,” Shelby said.
Neither of them slept that night.
———
Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.
“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.
“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.
“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.
Marcus gets to his feet.
“You wrote this?”
“Yessir.”
“This poem right here?”
“Yessir.”
Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”
“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.
“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”
“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.
“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”
Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.
“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.
“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.
“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”
“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”
———
6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes
They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.
“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.
“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.
“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”
“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.
“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”
“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”
“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”
“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.
It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.
The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.
“Be careful,” Nora urged.
“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.
“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”
They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.
Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.
They met eyes.
“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.
“You okay?” Toni asked.
Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.
“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.
“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.
Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.
———
“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.
“Oh no.”
“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”
Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.
“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”
Toni blinked, “What?”
“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”
“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”
Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”
“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”
“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”
Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”
Toni looked away.
“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”
“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.
———
7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark
“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.
The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.
“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”
“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.
“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.
“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”
“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.
“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”
“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“
“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.
Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.
“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.
“You did,” Shelby said.
“Can I say it again?”
“You can.”
“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”
Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.
Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.
———
Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.
“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”
“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.
“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.
“As he should,” Toni nods.
“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”
“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.
“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.
Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”
“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.
“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”
“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.
“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.
———
8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile
“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”
Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."
“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”
The breath left Toni’s body.
“What?”
“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”
“Stop it, Dot.”
“Toni is Shelby gay?”
“Dot,” Toni said.
“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”
“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”
“Toni is Shelby gay?”
Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.
“What do we do?” Toni asked.
Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.
“Dot, what do we do?”
“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”
———
Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.
“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.
Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.
“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.
Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”
“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”
“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.
“I know, I know but—”
“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”
Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.
“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”
Fuck fuck fuck.
Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.
Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.
———
9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing
It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.
When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.
But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.
Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.
Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.
Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.
Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also
Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.
Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.
On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:
a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really.
b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.
As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.
When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.
Her mother was still in rehab.
———
Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.
“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.
Toni looks at her.
“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.
Toni rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”
This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.
“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”
“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.
“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”
“I can’t.”
“Clearly not.”
Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.
When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.
When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.
“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.
Toni scoffs.
“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”
Yeah, obviously.
“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.
“So he could ask out Martha.”
“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.
“Can I go?” Toni asks.
“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”
“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”
“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”
Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”
“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”
“That’s not true,” Toni says.
“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”
And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.
———
10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart
Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.
Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.
There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.
Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?
Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.
God, were they really only seventeen?
———
Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.
Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.
“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.
“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.
“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.
Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”
“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”
“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”
“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.
“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.
“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”
“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.
“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.
“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.
Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”
“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”
“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.
“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.
“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”
“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”
“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”
“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.
———
reasons to kiss her
1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting
Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—
———
“Toni?”
The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.
Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.
“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”
Toni stares at her.
Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.
“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.
“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.
“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.
“I guess,” Toni says.
“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.
Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”
“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.
She kisses her.
#did something different with time than i usually do#and with structure#lmk what you think#shoni#the wilds fanfic#the wilds#goodfoe fanfic#goodfoe#shelby goodkind#toni shalifoe#gus writes#ren don’t
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Conversation with the Author of City Comma State, kippielovesyou/ForcedSimile
Had a short interview with the author of City Comma State, @kippielovesyou/ForcedSimile and asked her if I could share our conversation online---she said yes!
Did you know that Hange and Levi in her work was based on Spongebob and Squidward's interactions?
Read the entire transcript below:
-------------------------------------
djmarinizela (D): if i may ask, where and how did you learn to write so good? what inspired you to write city comma state?
kippielovesyou (K): i don't mind at all! it's genuinely just years of practice. i've been scribbling stories since kindergarten (i had a long standing multi part series in first grade about all my classmates). i think one thing is certain: having a strong understanding of characters whether you borrow them or they are your own is pretty key.
a lot of points [in Isayama's story] could have been better thought out or tighter. however, we all love his characters. a weak plot (or in the case of city comma state: no plot) can be ignored or forgiven if everyone loves the characters
i'll be honest, i spend a lot of time trying to understand why a character does things or reacts a certain way. and yes, sometimes, that means i act out scenes in my car while driving. it's embarrassing...
there's a lot more to it, but to me that's the most important thing
as far as how city comma state came about: i wanted to do a slow burn romance centered around levihan, but I also wanted to show how all these characters care about and support each other. i knew in the confines of the AoT world, anyone could die at any moment and that didn't work with the softer feelings i wanted people to enjoy. how can you enjoy the friendship between mike and hange if he dies? it's possible, but it upends all the warmth we were enjoying. so i wrote an AU. i wanted to keep levi with a rough background with many walls, and i wanted hange to have her own issues that they can work through together. and i love the idea of them adopting/supporting the 104th kids without the fear of sending them out to war
D: your answer is so profound and helpful, thank you so much! I can honestly say you pretty nailed it when it comes to character development---everyone has a character arc in your fic! [my next question] is about the gender discourse in your story. I know you started City Comma State pretty early in 2014, but even back then, the nonbinary identity wasn't widely known before. How were you able to flesh out the discourse on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum and play it out on the dialogues and backstories?
K: it's pretty funny, a lot of the LGBTQIA+ has always been discussed i my family. we've had gay, lesbian, trans, gnc, bi and asexual people in my family for generations, as far back as the 20s (that we're aware of). hange's gender being debated made it a prime opportunity to write such an experience, some of which is borrowed from my own life. when i read older chapters i see certain slips in dialogue where i could have made an effort to be more neutral. we're in such a binary society that sometimes even if you feel in between, it slips in. in fact, i'm sure some people might take issue with the fact that i stuck with she/her for hange. i'm not sure i'd make a different decision today. i like this version of hange the way she is, and i hope hange's nb/gnc status comes across in more than just pronouns. hange's full identity is so much more than that and that is what i wanted to explore. and i think no matter where you fall on the whole LGBTQIA+ spectrum, you are more than just the label you've chosen. yes, in this story levi is bi/pan. but i don't think he ever says that explicitly, and he avoids labels. it seems fussy to him, which feels levi. discourse would not be his thing. i think even having a debate about whether or not he was bi or pan wouldn't be something he would want to engage in, he just wants to do what he wants. instead it's heavily implied. i think we forget since so many of us experience this discourse online and want to label things that there are people who don't want to involve themselves in it. it goes back to how would this character act. for instance, based on how levi is in canon, i can see many ways to interpret his sexuality. there's cues for a lot of different takes. but levi doesn't seem like the type that would need a definitive label in order to be happy. there's many ways to interpret hange's gender (and i've written several takes, some where they're more insistent on their pronouns), but i think hange's more excited to explore life than worry too much about much about how they're addressed or how someone talks about them. maybe another character might be more caught up in labels but hange and levi not so much
D: No, don't be sorry, I am more than thankful for your answer. I really appreciate it! I don't get to have these kinds of conversations with other writers, so I am grateful for your insights.
K: a really funny anecdote for you: i loosely based the idea of my levihan off of spongebob and squidward. you know, since they start out as neighbors and hange is more invasive than levi is used to
D: that's.... a stretch. but thanks for the tidbit! was the annual star wars contest also something that you do in your family? that part as well as all the geeky references won me over tbh!
K: it was an extremely loose inspiration! but hange mowing her lawn in the middle of the night so levi wouldn't be mad at her is on par with a spongebob move. and um...my family, while they can be a little nerdy, is not nerdy enough to do the star wars tournament! i made that up entirely
i just imagined hange having eccentric family, so they have very unusual traditions that none of the children question
i'll be the first to say a lot of city comma state is unrealistic and a little bit of a domestic fantasy. there's a lot of problems with money, employment and such that hange and levi SHOULD have but that's a little too real and not what i want to be the focus of this story. like hange landing a job that gives her a day off and she doesn't suffer a severe pay cut as a result? unrealistic. but i have other things i want to tackle. plus, in canon we have humans that turn into giants and 3D maneuver gear which would probably kill its user in real life. i think making certain parts of this fanfic a little idealistic is okay
D: are there other works that influence your writing? or authors that inspire you to write?
K: There's too many influences to count. reading is so important and even things that are bad are helpful. i actually was trying to read a YA series that seemed really cool and i had to stop reading because so many things were so annoying (I won't reveal which, since i think it has a small but dedicated fandom and i don't want to rain on their parade, it is purely a taste thing to some degree). instead of being upset and thinking that I wasted my time, i took note of what made me stop reading (that is a long list of things i didn't like so i won't bother to outline each one). even if it's something as small as a fanfiction that you had to click out of, ask yourself why you stopped. Especially with fanfiction: you already like these characters, what you're looking for is usually pretty specific (a pairing, an au, a specific scenario, etc). why, when this author has ticked all your superficial boxes, did you stop reading? and when you love something as yourself why. Ask yourself why you love the source material even! do you really love the plotlines and the world or do you love the characters? Is the dialogue strong? something to also pay attention to: people in general. how do they speak, gestures, facial expressions. really listen to how people talk (Youtube podcasts are really good for this!).
i think people would be surprised, a lot of what i really like to read is very all over. from surrealist novels, to classic literature, to science fiction aimed at children (i'm finally reading animorphs after almost 20 years!). and what i write for original fiction doesn't reflect what i'm probably best known for.
D: thanks for this, Kippie! looking forward to reading more of your works!
K: i'm still amazed at the response! writing is so solitary to me and i don't really look at my numbers. it never occurred to me that people would be discussing my fic!
-------------------------------------
If you haven't read Kippie's Levihan fic yet, here's the link to get started: City Comma State
#levihan#aot#snk#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#interview#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#mine#djmarinizela
31 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
desenfocadaescribe
DESENFOCADA ESCRIBE
aestories
Thoughts & Stories
stefanflorence
Renaissance
ceppy
Untitled
estupidosconviviendoconestu-blog
Estupidos Conviviendo Con Estupidos