#gonna go write something VERY gay just to test it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

panandinpain0 · 9 months

Note

Yo so like, r u ok writing for Peter Parker?? If so, could you write a Peter x Male Reader where the reader is both a charmer and peter’s ultimate hype man (sorry Ned). Around prom season, Peter asks the reader for help to ask his crush to the prom, and the reader is sadge bc he thinks it’s MJ. Slight chaos and maybe some nervous gay boy stuff ensues??

Roses

Yes, I'd love to write for Peter Parker! (And because you brought up Ned I'm assuming it's Tom Holland's Peter.)

Also, I'm in love with this prompt <3

@@@

Requested by: Anon

Peter Parker x Male!Reader

---

Peter was at his locker, talking to Ned about his Lego death star, when (Y/N) approached his locker. Peter closed it and raised his eyebrows at (Y/N), while Ned jumped in shock (neither had seen him approach but Peter's spidey-senses- or should I say "Peter-Tingles"- came in handy).

"Are you guys planning a Star Wars marathon without me?" (Y/N)'s jaw dropped with a betrayed look on his face, hand to his heart. "What happened to the brotherhood?"

Ned snorted and Peter laughed, turning to walk down the hallway.

"We were gonna' invite you anyways, (Y/N), we always do," Ned reassured, giving in to his teasing.

"Good. So, whaddya' say, Pete? Star Wars at your house this Friday?" (Y/N) asked, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder and smiling at him as they walked.

Clearing his throat quietly, Peter nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

"It's a good thing too, because I need help studying for this chem test coming up, and I was wondering if you'd help me?" (Y/N) asked him, hand still on his shoulder.

In truth, (Y/N) was barely getting by in chemistry for a reason. It's not that he wasn't smart enough or that he wasn't putting in the work- it was that he was sat next to Peter and couldn't stop looking at him. Trying to goof off with him in class was one of (Y/N)'s favorite pastimes, and what got them in trouble the most.

This gave him an excuse to beg Peter desperately for help with his homework, therefore getting to spend more time with him. It was a solid plan in his mind.

"For sure! Studying and then Star Wars, sounds like the perfect Friday," Peter said back, always too nice (or too love-struck) to say no to (Y/N).

Ned looked between them, realizing they were doing the smiling-at-each-other-for-too-long thing, and coughed to get their attention.

(Y/N) and Peter both looked over at him and Ned smiled, "So, got any dates to prom yet?" It was meant to be a joke, the three of them in the "nerd" clique, even though realistically they were all very attractive and much more than just nerds. (Considering one of them was the web-slinging super hero, they were much more than just smart.)

"Nope," (Y/N) and Peter said in unison, laughing together.

"What about you, Ned?" (Y/N) asked back, and Ned shook his head like it was a joke he was even asking.

"Who'd wanna go out with me?" Ned asked a bit glumly, thinking he was the unattractive one in their friend group.

"Well, I have an idea." (Y/N) winked at him and pointed down the hallway. A girl named Darla, who they'd gone to school with since elementary, noticed she'd been caught staring and blushed, turning back to her locker quickly.

Ned stuttered for a minute, his face heating up. "No, she must've been looking at one of you-"

"Dude, she's been in love with you since the eighth grade!" (Y/N) insisted, moving between Peter and Ned and throwing his arm over Ned's shoulder. "I bet you twenty bucks that if you ask her out she'll say yes."

Shaking his head in doubt, Ned stuttered again, before giving up.

"She'll probably be asked out by the captain of the football team or something- that's always what happens with the cheerleaders."

"Oh, come on buddy. You've got a chance, you're the only one that doesn't see it," Peter insisted.

"She knows me because I help her with her calculus homework..."

"Just try. If not, what's the worse that can happen?" (Y/N) asked nonchalantly.

"I'll get humiliated."

"Or she could say yes," Peter countered.

"Fine, I'll do it if you guys leave me alone about it."

"That's all I ask." (Y/N) held his hands up in surrender. Then he turned to Peter and they fist bumped.

Once they got outside Ned split off, going his own way home while (Y/N) pulled out his skateboard. Happy waved from the limousine at Peter, letting him know that he was here to take him to Tony.

(Y/N) let out a low whistle, looking at the limo. "Nice ride, Parker. Perks from the internship?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, Mr. Stark sends Happy to pick me up when its more urgent." Technically it wasn't a full lie, he'd usually only get picked up by Happy if it involved emergencies.

"Well, drive safe. Text me if you need anything, or just if you're bored." (Y/N) pulled Peter into a hug, patting his back and putting down his skateboard.

"See you tomorrow!" Peter patting him back before watching him skate off, looking back to Happy. As he approached the door opened, and his jaw dropped as he saw Tony.

"Was that your boyfriend?" he teased, glasses at the end of his nose.

"Oh! Mr. Stark, I didn't know-"

"Hop in kid, we've got places to be."

...

Knocking on the Parker's apartment door, (Y/N) played with the colorful box in his hands.

May opened it, smiling when she saw who it was.

"(Y/N)! It's such a pleasure to have you, Ned and Peter are in Peter's room." May pulled him into a hug and (Y/N) returned it, smiling at the comfort he got every time he was welcomed into their home.

"Thanks, May. Here, my mom made you those cupcakes you like." He held out the box and May gasped, her smile getting brighter.

"Oh, that woman..." she shook her head in amusement. "Tell her thanks! Now I've got to make her that pasta she likes so much."

(Y/N) laughed and patted May's shoulder before making his way to Peter's room.

"Happy Friday boys!" (Y/N) announced as he walked into his room.

"You said that this morning," Ned commented laughing as (Y/N) slung his backpack to the floor.

"No, this morning I said 'It's Friday'. This time it's happy," (Y/N) corrected with a smirk, sitting down on the floor with Peter and Ned.

"Don't forget, it's not just Star Wars it's also studying," Peter reminded with a laugh, pulling his books out of his backpack.

(Y/N) let out a dramatic groan, clearly joking, because he didn't mind what he did as long as he got to hang out with his friends (especially Peter).

About half an hour into studying, Ned left to use the bathroom and Peter and (Y/N) started talking.

"You've asked people out before, right (Y/N)?"

"Yeah, why? You got someone in mind?" MJ was (Y/N)'s first guess. (Y/N) had seen how he looked at MJ and wished it was him instead.

Peter, on the other hand, was only thinking of (Y/N). He was extremely handsome and charming, always jokingly flirting with Peter- but no matter how smart he was, he was oblivious to Peter's obvious attraction to him.

"Uh, yeah, I do. I was wondering if you could help me ask them out to prom? Just like, give me tips or something on how to impress them..." Peter nervously chuckled as he trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

"Oh, sure! But I'm not sure there's much I can say to help. You're a really great guy Peter, and anybody would be lucky to have you. I know everyone says this, but just be yourself and depending on the reaction you get it'll tell you if they're the right person for you or not." (Y/N) shrugged, not really sure what else to say.

Peter nodded, trying to figure out how to impress (Y/N). "Should I get them flowers? Or make one of those 'promposal' signs?"

"I always thought those signs were kind of tacky, but if you think they'll like it then I think you should go for it. And I think the flowers are a nice idea..." (Y/N) tried to give him a smile, but he didn't think it looked very confident. It hurt, not knowing if he liked (Y/N) back- but it hurt worse knowing he liked someone else.

"Okay. Okay, I'll bring them flowers. What kind do you think I should get?"

Just then, Ned walked back into the room, stopping hesitantly in the doorway as if he'd interrupted something.

"Hey, Ned," (Y/N) greeted, smiling at him.

"What's up?" Ned asked, still not sure if he should sit back down or not. He considered making an excuse about asking May for snacks or something, but they weren't giving him any clear signs that he wasn't welcome in the conversation.

"Just talking about asking people to prom," Peter responded with a shrug, going back to his homework.

"Peter was wondering what flowers he should get for his crush," (Y/N) gained back some confidence with the joke, nudging Peter playfully.

"Oh?" Ned asked, eyebrows up as he retook his seat on the ground, looking between the two. He noticed their behavior and realized it was going to be weird for a while- and that he couldn't say anything. He held back a sigh at that thought.

"Yeah, what kind do you think I should get them, Ned?" Peter asked as (Y/N) started twirling his pen in his hand.

"Who're they for? Everyone has favorite flowers, right?" Ned thought aloud, looking through his notes.

"I say roses. Everybody likes roses," (Y/N) concluded, nodding as he talked.

The boys went back to studying (and eventually Star Wars).

...

Monday morning's were always rough, and prom was that Saturday so everybody was buzzing (much to (Y/N)'s annoyance).

Closing his locker with a yawn he turned to walk to his first class, chemistry with Peter, just to be jump scared by said boy.

"Woah! Peter, hey. Gave me a heart attack," (Y/N) mumbled as he clutched his chest, his breathing ragged.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to..." Peter looked sheepish as he gulped down his nerves.

"Are you okay? You look really... sweaty." That's when (Y/N) noticed the roses in his hand and his mood dropped. "Oh, you must be nervous to ask out your crush, huh?"

Peter nodded, taking in a deep breath.

"Yeah. I just hope he says yes." And he held out the flowers with a almost scared looking smile.

"(Y/N), will you go to prom with me?"

His jaw hit the floor, eyes wide with confusion and shock. He never thought in a million years Peter would ask him out, much less over MJ, who was watching from her locker next to his with a smirk.

Truth is, Peter knew that MJ and (Y/N) shared an art class and were friends, so he asked her for advice. That's what led to the awkward study conversation, and the roses in front of (Y/N)'s face.

"Wait- what? Really?" (Y/N) asked, searching Peter's face for any hints of a prank or deception. "You're shitting me, right Parker?"

Peter just shook his head, heart racing a mile a minute.

"You said roses, so I got you roses. I'm sure if you knew I was meaning you you'd have said another kind of flower but I couldn't figure out how to ask you what your favorite flower was without giving myself away-" Peter rambled, fumbling with the paper around the bouquet of roses.

(Y/N) put his hand on Peter's fumbling one and smiled at him, "I'd love to go to prom with you, Peter. I love the roses- and I'm so glad you didn't make one of those stupid poster boards."

The boys broke into somewhat relieved laughter and Peter pulled him into a hug.

That's when they remembered that they were in the middle of a highschool hallway. Everybody was staring at them, and both of their faces were shades warmer than before.

Ned, always the loyal friend, stepped in.

"Darla!" he all but shouted through the hallway, everybody's attention going to him. He was holding a singular tulip in his hand and was sweating bullets. "Will you go to prom with me?"

Some kids started laughing, but they turned into gasps as Darla nearly squealed as she nodded her head, her curls bouncing with her movement.

"Yes, Ned! I'd love to!" She hugged him, while he just stood there in absolute astonishment. His original plan was to pull attention away from his best friends by being humiliated, not by pulling the most beautiful and talented girl in the school.

(Y/N) started clapping and hollering, Peter soon joining him.

Then the bell rang, and everybody started going to their classes.

...

"I still can't believe that happened," Ned whispered from Peter's carpeted floor, staring up at the ceiling in amazement.

Peter and (Y/N) sat on his bed, putting together the Lego death star shoulder to shoulder. They'd steal looks at each other every once in a while, blushing at their newfound romance.

When they watched a movie with May later that night they held hands and shared a blanket, and all May did was smile at them when she noticed.

---

Yippee!!!

Not as chaotic as I'm sure you were hoping, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing this.

Thank you anon! I hope you liked it.

-Author Max <3

#fanfiction #x reader #fluff #x he/him reader #x male!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter x reader #avengers fandom #avengers masterlist #avengers x male!reader #marvel x male!reader

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cha-melodius · 8 months

Note

Firstprince, and look don’t ask me why this is what my brain came up with but: meetcute at the STI clinic

(OMG, I love your brain so much. This made me cackle and immediately start writing it. Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!)

chamel's fandom fest info | read all the fics

Getting Clinical

(firstprince, 2k, T; read it below or on AO3)

Alex has to admit that the very last thing that he expected to get upon coming out to his mother was an appointment made in his name at an LGBTQ+ focused sexual health clinic near his apartment. Really, he should have known better, given the PowerPoints that resulted from said coming out, but still. He’s a grown-ass man with a career. He lives on his own in a city in which she does not live. He can take care of himself.

He still goes to the appointment when he gets back to New York. It’s already made, after all, and it’s been a while since he was tested. Since he’s had any sexual partners, in point of fact; he’s been more or less a hermit for the past couple of years, throwing himself into his work and only letting Nora and June drag him out on rare occasion. The whole bisexual revelation had been a slow thing, born of the unexpected feelings evoked in him when one of the senior partners at his law firm came out as gay, in combination with finding himself staring a little too long at the shirtless male leads when he’d put on The Mummy or Indiana Jones on in the background while working late nights at home. He hasn’t actually acted on any of this newfound knowledge save for flirting a bit with the barista at the coffee shop in his building.

He’s gonna, though. He’s determined to get out there and meet someone. A number of someones, maybe—why not have some fun while he’s discovering a bit more about himself? Explore what’s out there. So it makes sense to just go when he gets the email from his mom with a screenshot of the appointment confirmation.

“I wonder if anyone’s done a comparative study of these lubes,” Nora says, too loudly, from where she sits beside him inspecting a selection of samples that she’s collected from a display in the waiting room. More than one person waiting nearby looks over at them, and Alex sinks a little deeper into his chair.

“Ugh, why are you here again?”

“For the moral support,” she chirps with too much glee. “Not like I have any need to be tested right now. Although, June and I did meet this very intriguing guy—”

“All right, enough of that,” he interrupts sharply before she can say any more about her and his sister’s sex life. He already knows far too much about it as it is. “No one asked you to come.”

Nora tips her head at him. “Not in so many words, no. But if I had to listen to one more minute of you hemming and hawing about whether you could make the appointment or whether this was the ‘right place for you’”—she adds the air quotes, annoyingly—“I was gonna start breaking things.” Something softens in her expression, then. “You do belong in these spaces, you know.”

“I know,” he mutters, staring down into his lap. He’s even getting better at believing it.

At that, Nora returns to her lube investigation, and Alex rage-reads some twitter threads until someone steps up to the empty chair next to him and says in a mellifluous British accent, “Pardon me, is this seat taken?”

The waiting room is not that crowded, so Alex doesn’t know why this guy needs to sit directly next to him. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out a polite way to convey this when he finally looks up and right into what he’s pretty sure are the bluest pair of eyes on the planet. Jesus fuck, this man might be the most attractive person he’s ever laid eyes on in person. He doesn’t actually seem like he could be real, but he’s here, looking hopefully at Alex like he wants to be next to him, which is, let’s just say, intriguing—

“It’s only— there’s an outlet on the wall here, and my phone is dying,” Blue Eyes says with an apologetic smile.

Right. So, not particularly interested in sitting next to Alex, then. And that’s definitely not a hollow feeling of disappointment settling into his stomach.

“Yeah, no problem, man,” Alex says, trying to school his expression into something appropriate for conversing with strangers. “It’s all yours.”

Blue Eyes thanks him and takes the seat as he reaches into his bag to pull out a phone cord. The thing is, the outlet is kind of under the chairs and between the two of them, which necessitates some twisting and bending as he tries to blindly reach for it. That definitely doesn’t seem to be working, though, so Alex ends up twisting in his chair too to try to see if he can help.

“A little lower, I think—”

“Oh, thank you, I just can’t quite feel—”

“Fuck, you’re too far now— look, you need to shift to the right, yeah, there—”

“Ah, there it goes,” Blue Eyes murmurs with a pleased hum that brings to mind a very different setting than the one they’re currently in.

This seems to occur to Blue Eyes at the same time as it does Alex, which is approximately when they both look up and realize that their faces have ended up quite close together. Blue Eyes’ cheeks are rapidly turning a lurid pink; Alex quickly replays their previous exchange in his head and yeah, fuck. Suggestive doesn’t seem to begin to cover it. Slowly, Blue Eyes straightens, his posture stiff and eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

“Er, thank you,” he coughs.

“Don’t mention it,” Alex mumbles in response.

A strained silence settles over them that’s somehow heavier than your usual odd-encounter-with-a-stranger awkwardness. At some point during this encounter, Nora had disappeared to god knows where, so Alex doesn’t even have her company to fall back on. He scrolls on his phone without actually reading anything on it, half hoping one of them will be called into the doctor and half dreading it. Next to him, Blue Eyes is typing furiously with his thumbs.

Alex shouldn’t interrupt him. Just… mind his own business. That would be the reasonable thing to do.

Oh well.

“So, come here often?” he tries to joke, only to realize too late the implications behind asking such a question in a sexual health clinic. He grimaces, hard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean— you don’t have to answer that. I was just— trying to make it not awkward.”

To his relief, Blue Eyes just looks amused. “And made it exceedingly awkward instead?” he replies with a tiny smirk tilting his perfect mouth. There’s a mole right next to the corner of it that Alex would very much like to bite. “I do visit regularly, in fact,” he continues after a moment. “I consider my and my partners’ sexual health to be very important.”

Fuck, that just makes him hotter, which shouldn’t be physically possible. “Lucky person,” Alex hears himself say. “Your partner.”

“Oh, I, uh,” Blue Eyes stammers slightly. “I’m not dating anyone. Currently, that is. I’m just getting out of a relationship, actually.”

“Sorry,” Alex winces.

“Don’t be,” he replies lightly, a flickering smile on his lips. “I’m well shot of him. Anyway, it’s been long enough. Thought I should get back out there.”

“Oh,” Alex says. That’s a good sign, right? Alex could just ask him out. They could have fun if nothing else. That’s all he’s looking for right now. And he’s good at picking people—women, anyway—up. Or was, historically. He just needs to… say something charming. “Well, good luck, then.”

Not that.

He’s really, really hoping he’s not misreading the look of resignation that flickers across Blue Eyes’ face. Before Alex can figure out how to make his big mouth say something useful, though, Blue Eyes’ gaze flickers up behind him. “Ah, your partner’s returned.”

Alex glances back long enough to see Nora flopping down into the chair next to him with more lube samples. “Oh, she’s not my—”

“Alex?” a nurse calls from the other side of the waiting room, leaving him little other choice but to get up and follow her. Blue Eyes shoots him a tight smile and a tiny nod of acknowledgement that they’re probably never going to see each other again before Alex turns and starts walking away.

He’s halfway through the door to the exam rooms when he glances back to see Blue Eyes still watching him, which is frankly more than he can take.

“Sorry, just— forgot something,” he says to the nurse before all but sprinting back to his chair. He plucks Blue Eyes’ phone right out of his slack grip, opens a new contact page, and types in his number. Then, as if he’s in some kind of fever dream, he actually says, “Let me know when you get your results,” and winks.

Alex hurries off again before the nurse can call after him, leaving one extremely stunned Brit in his wake.

~~~~

A week later, Alex’s test results from the clinic show up in his inbox. He’s clean, of course, no surprises there, but the visit itself had been worthwhile—he’d found himself talking to the doctor about aspects related to his health and wellness that went beyond what he might encounter now that he’d be branching out, so to speak—so all in all, not a waste of time.

His phone stays silent, though.

Of course it was always a long shot. That doesn’t change the bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue that not even his endless cups of coffee can cover up. He gets the results on a Friday and lets himself be dragged out to a club on Saturday night to ‘celebrate’, though he ends up politely rebuffing the advances of everyone who hits on him. Nora gives him a look after the third one—a tall, gorgeous brunet with a jaw chiseled out of marble and blue eyes that do give him a half a second of pause—but he shrugs her off.

On Monday morning, he’s in the middle of a conference with a partner and a client when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He assumes it’s Nora or June, so he nearly drops the damned thing on the floor when he finally gets out and swipes open to see a screenshot of an email that looks suspiciously familiar. There’s one key difference, though: under ‘name’ at the top, the text says Henry Fox-Mountchristen.

The screenshot has been sent without comment or followup, just a dry, clinical report, and somehow it’s still one of the sexiest texts he’s ever gotten. Fuck, he’s at work.

Which is exactly what he sends back to Henry. (Henry, he thinks, mulling over the name. It suits him. Alex would very much like to taste it, pressed into his skin.)

Apologies, but you did ask to be informed.

Am I to assume this was an academic interest, or…?

nothing academic about what i want to do to you, sweetheart

Right, then. Jolly good. Are you free this weekend?

Alex wants to say he’s free tonight, actually, so they can put those results to good use, but halfway through writing his reply, he stops. Yes, he wants Henry in his bed, but he also doesn’t want Henry to think he’s only interested in sex. Which is exactly the opposite of what he told himself he was going to do when he started exploring his bisexuality. He shouldn’t be looking for a relationship, and there’s no guarantee Henry is interested in one either. Maybe he’s just busy until then.

Alex thinks another moment, then sends back: what did you have in mind?

~~~~~

(Henry takes him on a date date, all romantic candlelit dinner with a single red rose and a walk in Central Park afterward with their fingers tangled together. And when he finally leans in to kiss Alex, it’s soft and sweet and Alex feels it down to his fucking toes. So, like. That’s a whole thing.

Turns out that they do make good use of their test results that night, thoroughly. And again, the next morning in the shower. And again and again, until they each get a reminder email from the clinic that it’s time for a regular screening.

Which they each promptly delete.)

#firstprince #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #chamel's fandom fest #my fic

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kimpossibly · 1 year

Text

cherry coke (d. jones)

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader summary: after an exposing news article is published in rolling stone, daisy and y/n have to figure out how to deal with the world knowing the truth. warnings: swearing, homophobia (not a lot, just mentions and implications for plot reasons only, but nothing explicit), drugs, drinking, s*x (mentioned but not described), mentions of addiction (past and current), daisy wanting to commit h*micide (vengeful wife vibes)

author's note: so this is what i was doing while demotivated to write the chain. I PROMISE I WAS TRYING but this idea also appeared to me and i just. i had to guys. i HAD to. i'm glad you guys have enjoyed the final part of the chain (and by that i mean yelling at me in the comments for making you guys cry. no i am not sorry, this is what i was going for all along) but seriously, i love that you guys loved it. yes it was sad but i'm glad you all felt that with me, because boy was it difficult to write. so here's a happier one! i saw someone say that daisy jones gives iconic lesbian energy and i was like you know what???? i VERY much agree! like, she set so many trends and broke out of the box in so many ways...so like why not by being gay yk?? anyway, this one gets a lil angsty and then supa cute again so enjoy! i love you guys <3

DAISY JONES: You're famous long enough, you start to ignore the rumors. They're always gonna be there―some of 'em will surprise you when they're true, but most of the time they're just plain bullshit. You have to let them roll over you without a second thought. [pause]. But when that Rolling Stone article came out...it scared me. It was like Jonah Berg had stumbled on the gold mine of his career that could ruin mine in a second.

Y/N L/N: [holds up magazine] Inside Daisy Jones' and Y/n L/n's Torrid Love Affair. Quite the headline, huh? At the time, though, it kinda felt something like a death sentence. [pause] Look, the seventies were great, right? The parties, the music, the nightlife...but there were things that society just wasn't ready for yet. And that was what we were.

DAISY JONES: We were both so far deep into our denial then that it just...well, it made me want revenge [laughs]. But Y/n wasn't like that. She had her own things to deal with.

Y/N: Let me just tell you this one thing: never take your best friend on tour.

"You guys sold out this entire place?" Moody said as he looked around the giant stadium.

The band was in the middle of soundcheck in Henderson, but Y/n still found a moment to throw an arm over her childhood best friend's shoulders. "You sound surprised. If I were in a worse mood I might be offended."

Moody chuckled as Y/n wandered away to where Daisy was singing quietly into the main mic. Y/n knocked her foot into Daisy's boot as she passed, giving the girl a quick sly grin. Daisy returned it (not without a cleverly placed eye roll) and went on singing.

After a moment, an arm wrapped around Y/n's waist, pulling her back. She let out a shriek that melted into a laugh as Daisy pulled her back to the mic, saying, "Get back here and sing some harmonies with me!"

Moody watched with a quizzical look as Daisy and Y/n sang into the same microphone to test. Neither one of them could seem to really take it seriously; if their eyes met for even a second they'd laugh through the melody, effectively accomplishing nothing in the way of sound checking.

Eventually Y/n pulled herself away from the mic. She sang backup and harmonies on some of the songs off Aurora, but she never really liked having her own voice front and center. Besides, she was perfectly content to listen to Daisy sing. Daisy had a voice that demanded to be listened to. And Y/n loved it.

Billy passed by, impatiently shoving a guitar in Y/n's hand. "You gonna keep staring at Daisy, or are you gonna play?" he said in passing. Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and shouldered the guitar, still watching Daisy out of the corner of her eye as she plucked out the starting melody to Honeycomb.

Moody went to join the crowd when the first few concertgoers began to file in. From there it was a steady stream of fans, the chatter in the room growing louder and louder until thousands of people stood in the room, cheering and chanting for the band.

Moody had to admit it. He was impressed with what Y/n and the band had created for themselves.

The show began when Daisy walked onstage, red hair aglow in the pink and blue lights. There was glitter on her cheeks and dark makeup smudged around her eyes. And when Y/n walked onstage behind her, Moody noticed that she too had glitter on her face and lipstick smudged around her mouth.

The show was fantastic. When Daisy was at the mic (which, at that time, was always) she was electric, attracting light and eyes wherever she went. Whenever Billy stepped up to sing with her, it was like there was some instant kind of chemistry between them. They looked at each other, sang to each other, and it all made it feel like they were the only two in the room.

But there were times―few and far between, but still times―when Daisy would pick up the mic and go by Y/n as she played the guitar. In those moments, Daisy and Y/n would meet eyes, and the fits of laughter they'd had during soundcheck were nowhere in sight. They were focused on nothing but each other and the music. It seemed to suck all the air of the room in a single breath.

And during a particularly intricate guitar solo, Daisy got down on her knees in front of Y/n and sang up to her, setting the crowd ablaze with cheers and chatter.

Moody met back up with the band after the show, at which time Y/n leapt into his arms and stayed there, holding on and riding around as he greeted the other members of the band.

Daisy passed him last, and he gave her a short nod of his head. "Great show, Daisy."

"Why, thank you," she said in a very Daisy-way. As she passed, she gave a quick squeeze to Y/n's side, never taking her eyes off the girl until she was on the other side of them. It was an almost imperceptible gesture, but he saw.

Now, in that era of rock, shows didn't just stop after the set. The parties that followed were infamous for being the wildest place to be. Drugs and alcohol everywhere you looked, sex swimming in the air. If you wanted to dance a little too close to the devil, that was where you needed to be.

Moody got about as far as the entrance and tapped Y/n on the shoulder. "I'll meet you at your room."

She nodded, then bounced into the party without another word. I'll meet you at your room was code for their regular post-show routine. Y/n would go off to some party with Daisy and get shitfaced while Moody settled into Y/n's hotel room with a book. Around four or five in the morning, she'd stumble into her room, giggly and high, sometimes with Daisy at her side. Then Moody was in charge of sliding off her boots and making sure she sure got in bed and slept on her side. Then, he would go back to his own room for a few hours of well deserved sleep. Sometimes Daisy left, sometimes she didn't. Moody didn't put up much of a fight when it came to her.

Despite the fact that the party was nearly two floors above him, Moody could hear and feel the music through the ceiling. Hotel security never did much, mostly due to the hefty security deposit made by Rod and management. Hotels learned to expect this kind of thing when a rock band as famous as Daisy Jones & The Six came in town.

Meanwhile, Y/n was two floors above, stuck to Daisy's side, greeting everyone she saw and doing any drug she stumbled across. Her glass kept getting refilled, though she wasn't sure quite how. She allowed Daisy to pull her from group to group, keeping themselves latched together by the hand. And, around two in the morning, everyone was too faded to notice them slip out of the front door together.

The knock at Moody's door came at around 4:58. It was one, single sharp rap, then the dull thud of Y/n's head hitting the door. A soft giggle floated through the wood, "Let me in, Michael," she said, and he could practically hear the smile on her face through it.

He opened the door to see her leaned on the door frame, shoes in her hand, makeup smudged, hair messed up, clothing askew. Even then he thought she looked so beautiful, standing there, looking like she had just been blown through a tornado. Even then, she seemed to glow.

"G'morning," she greeted with a nod, stumbling in through the entryway.

Sure enough, she tripped over her own feet and nearly collapsed within a few seconds, sending Moody lunging to catch her around the waist. "Okay," he groaned, "no more of...well, anything for you tonight."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "If I had known you were going to be such a buzzkill, I woulda left you in Pittsburgh."

He guided her to the bed and sat her down. She slumped over, face half squished in the pillow. He held out a hand. "Give me all you got."

Y/n gave him a childish glare before digging in the pocket on her coat and pulling out half a dozen little baggies of pills and powders. She reluctantly smacked them into his hand, shifting further onto the bed to starting getting comfy.

"Thank you," he pocketed the drugs and started unlacing her boots. "You know, one of these days, all the parties are going to catch up to you, and you're either going to regret it, or you'll be passed out in the gutter. Just think about that."

"I've passed out in a gutter before. Not the best experience I've had, but not the worst."

He chuckled, sliding her coat off her arms. As he was pulling the covers over her, Y/n giggled. "I have a secret," she sang in a taunting voice.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, crouching down to her level. "Hit me."

"Nuh-uh. It doesn't work like that."

"Really? How does it work then?"

Y/n paused and thought for a moment. Then, she laughed again like she had just thought of something really dirty. "No!" she squealed. "No, no. I can't tell you. Nuh-uh."

Moody crossed his arms, giving her a pleading look, and then she sighed. "Fine," she relented with a grin, "Come here."

He leaned in, and she beckoned him even closer, until her lips were nearly pressed against his temple. Then, she spoke in a dreamy whisper, "I slept with the It Girl."

Moody pulled away, eyes wide. Y/n just giggled again like she couldn't believe it. She laid down on her side, eyes fluttering closed as she hummed the tune of Tiny Love. "Big eyes, big soul, big heart, no control, but all she got to give is Tiny Love."

She giggled like a maniac, seeming to find humor in those words then, and Moody went unnoticed as he stumbled out of the room, mind reeling at a million miles an hour. Y/n's giddy giggles floated up through the hallway after him, chasing him, until they finally came to a sudden stop.

The next morning she was awoken by Rod knocking at her door, yelling something about the bus leaving in ten. With a heavy pounding in her head, Y/n got up, and found she was unable to recall anything from the night before. Well, all except one thing―a thing that brought a little smile to her face when she recalled it.

After a sluggish bout of packing, the band was off to the next city―Sacramento, they told her. Good. She missed California.

All was normal for the drive. All except Moody. He hardly spoke to her, despite being a very talkative person normally. And when she did address him directly, he responded in as few words as possible. He was angry with her―they had been friends long enough for Y/n to be able to recognize that much. Eventually she gave up on trying to coax him to conversation and sat by Daisy, leaning her head on the girl's shoulder to try and get some sleep.

They made a stop before the hotel at some dinky dive bar to meet with Jonah Berg, a reporter for Rolling Stone. They sat around a table and drank, talking a little about the album and a lot about where they were headed next.

When things began to wind down and the band started to pack up, Jonah noticed Moody standing at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at no one in particular. Something about him looked like a story waiting to happen.

"Are you with the band?" he asked.

"Sure, you could say that."

Jonah lowered his voice. "Then what's got you looking all stormy?"

Moody paused, grappling with his next decision. He could either say it was nothing and tell Jonah Berg to buzz off, which, in all respects, would be the better choice. Or, he could tell the truth. And that, of course, would be disastrous. But people often made the disastrous choice when their feelings were involved.

Then he looked back at Y/n and Daisy, swaying together as Karen played a bluesy tune on the piano, and his heart constricted in his chest.

And then he made his decision.

DAISY: February 12, 1976. The day I almost committed murder.

Y/N: Okay, it wasn't that dramatic.

DAISY: [silence]

Y/N: Okay, maybe it was.

When Daisy walked into sound check that day, an hour and a half late, she did not find the band playing their instruments and practicing songs. Instead they all sat around atop their amps and chairs, with Rod standing at the back. All eyes turned to her the second she walked in. Well, all except Y/n's. She was sitting on the stage, legs tucked to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Karen and Warren sat behind her, each holding a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. And even though she had no idea what was going on, Daisy could only think about how it should be her comforting Y/n before anyone else.

"Are you just going to keep on staring, or am I allowed to know what's going on?"

And then Billy held out The Rolling Stone. "See for yourself."

KAREN: When Y/n read through that article, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. She got all teary and quiet, and then she just shut down. She wouldn't talk to anyone. But Daisy? Daisy got mad. So mad it looked like she was going to burn the world down.

Daisy gripped The Rolling Stone with white knuckles. It had everything. From the time they met, to that night in Henderson. It was like they had ghosts following them everywhere, whispering in Jonah Berg's ear. Daisy didn't dare look at Y/n now, mostly because she couldn't quite be sure yet that this wasn't her own fault.

After she had finished reading, she threw down the article and stomped towards the phone in the corner. "That son of a bitch."

Rod stepped in. "Daisy, hold on―"

"No! If that bastard thinks he can just ruin my career for the sake of his own, then he can hear it from me exactly what kind of hell his life is about to become."

"Look, Daisy, if it's not true, we can call Jonah and work this all out."

Daisy stopped, the receiver floating in her hand, her chest heaving.

"Daisy?" Rod said, "It's not true, is it?"

The band went silent, looking towards Daisy. Her head was dropped, red hair shielding her face from them. Slowly, the hand holding the receiver dropped, and Daisy turned to them, her pale face flushed red. And instead of angry, she just looked hopeless. That was all it took to make them understand.

After a moment of silence, Y/n finally spoke up, "Who would do this?"

"Whoever it is, they know everything," Billy said, "that's a pretty short list."

Graham frowned. "Hang on, you're not saying that one of us did this, are you?"

"No, I'm just saying that it's not like we have a very long suspect list."

"Oh! So we're suspects now!"

"Graham―"

The door opened and the band looked over to see Moody walk in. All at once they fell silent. And as Y/n watched him walk in, it all clicked. A gasp ripped through her throat and she covered her mouth, sickness swirling in her stomach.

Moody seemed to understand too. "Guys, hang on―"

Daisy muttered something under her breath and ditched the phone, stomping towards Moody with her hands curled into fists. Rod and Billy just about leaped off the stage to hold her back. None of them wanted to witness the bloodbath that was sure to occur if Daisy got her hands on Moody.

"Did you do this?" Daisy demanded. Moody stayed silent and she laughed. "Come on, you might as well own up to it now!"

"Guys!" Karen shouted. Daisy turned, ready to scream for everyone to stay the hell out of this, but her words died on her tongue when she saw Y/n run backstage, followed by the deft slamming of a door. Everybody looked back at Daisy. She looked back at Moody, fury blazing in her chest like a dozen white hot suns. She wanted to throttle him and stomp on his head.

But she didn't know where Y/n was going. And she'd rather know that before she killed her best friend.

Daisy turned on her heel, stomping away in the direction that Y/n left. Moody let out a sigh of relief when she disappeared, the door slamming behind her. "Crazy..." he muttered, looking back at the group. He was met with six steely glares, and that's when he realized he was in a room full of people who probably hated him now.

Daisy saw her at the hotel bar, sitting alone. She was so quiet and still that it almost made her want to cry. Y/n was hurt. And worst of all, she was hurt by one of her best friends. That had to sting like hell.

Daisy quietly sidled up beside her, taking the seat next to her. "Whatcha got there?"

"A cherry coke," Y/n responded. Daisy gave her a look and she just shook her head. "Believe me, I'd rather be drinking something that would make me forget. But it's not even noon and I've been thinking about quitting."

That was a lie. The quitting part, not the part about it not being noon yet.

"So that's what it is then, huh?" Daisy asked with a wry grin, but there was something behind it. Something a little sadder. "Just a stupid news article?"

Y/n turned to her immediately, eyes softening. "Daisy," she said softly, "of course not. You know that."

"Well, now so does everybody in the world."

She quieted, nodding and taking a sip from the glass. She sat it back down, sighing. "So, do we..."

Y/n trailed off, her eyes drifting behind Daisy. Daisy turned her head and saw Moody leaving the theater. He stopped in place, looking at them as though he were watching open heart surgery. Y/n murmured something quick to Daisy and let her go, heading in towards Moody.

For a moment he thought she might slap him, and for a moment so did she. But instead she stared him dead in the face with the same eyes he'd seen on every birthday, every holiday, every good memory. And right then, they looked so hardened that he could barely recognize them.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice laced with warning. He gave no response. She continued. "I have spent my entire life trying to figure out who I am―you know that better than anyone. For the first time...I think I did. I think I finally understand."

She glanced back at Daisy, then back to Moody. "And you had to fuck that up for me."

He again said nothing.

"I think it's best if you go home," she said. "If you try and get on that bus tomorrow, I'll have Rod call the cops. Better yet, if I get back to my hotel room tonight and you're there, I might just throw you out the window. And I'm on the tenth floor, so I wouldn't take that chance."

Daisy couldn't hear a word she was saying, but the look of horror on Moody's face told her all she needed to know. And with it she felt some sense of pride.

Y/n walked away, leaving him frozen in place. She held out a hand to Daisy. "Come on."

And Daisy just grinned, taking Y/n's hand and letting her pull her out of her seat and guide her away. She cast one last fiery glare at Moody before he disappeared from sight, immediately melting into a smile while Y/n drew her to the elevators.

He had been her best friend for over two decades. And right then she couldn't bear to be around him.

DAISY: I was ready to burn him at the stake. Unfortunately, my wife is a little more forgiving than I am.

Y/N: He was in our wedding party, on my side behind Karen and Eddie. I knew he felt bad for what he'd done, and he apologized about a million times. He'd been one of my best friends since I was little. It would've been hard to cut him out of my life, and it was hard to keep him in it. But time healed the shallower wounds, society warmed up to some things, and life got easier. I just feel glad that I got to a point in my life where I could find it in myself to forgive him.

Less than twenty minutes later, the pair were in Daisy's hotel room, arms wrapped around each other, each lying comfortably on the spacious king-sized bed. They'd talked for a while, then lapsed into a comfortable silence, where they just held each other. That was all they felt they could do.

But they were happy. As Daisy ran fingers through Y/n's hair, it occurred to her that right then, she felt less complicated than she ever had in the past. It felt like the sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds to shed some life on her life and who she was. So Daisy, finally feeling like she was bathed in spotlight, smiled. "Fuck Rolling Stone."

And Y/n, who felt like decades-old wounds were healing, laughed. "Fuck Rolling Stone."

#daisy jones & the six #daisy jones & the six fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones #daisy jones x reader #daisy jones fluff #sapphic #wlw

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 16 days

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LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 2, Poll 1

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Floofty Fizzlebean-Bugsnax

Qualifications:

They are nonbinary (canonically use they/them pronouns) and during the plot they become an amputee.

Propaganda:

Floofty is a scientist studying bugsnax in the hopes of discovering something that could better the world. They amputated their leg to test a hypothesis on bugsnax having regenerative properties. It works, but only temporarily, and they're shown to use a prosthetic leg post-game. They're a mad scientist. They're a mild autocannibal. They only experiment on willing participants, of which they are the only one. They're selfless to the point of self-destruction. Their color pallet is the nonbinary flag. Vote Floofty.

Anything Else?:

floofty is kinda mean but that's cus every bugsnax character has reasons to like & dislike them. listen I'm paranoid that someone's gonna be like "aha! they're bad rep because they're mean!" but everyone else is equally fucked up don't worry about it

Heart-Moonlight Chicken

Qualifications:

He's deaf (and I think one of the first ever deaf love interests in a Thai drama) and canonically gay with a boyfriend.

hes canonically deaf and gay

Heart is a gay deaf character in the drama moonlight chicken.

Heart is canonically deaf and canonically has a boyfriend at the end of the series! :)

Canonically queer and deaf

He’s canonically deaf and the love interest of another male character (Li Ming)

Propaganda:

A lot of his storyline is about the struggles of being deaf in Thai society. The show is only 8 episodes and he’s only a supporting character so it can't go super in depth to it but his arc was really well done imo. He lost his hearing due to illness like 3 years before canon (I forget th exact time frame), but his parents shut him away and never learned sign language so his storyline is about being able to come into his own and leave the house and everything. Like his love interest learns sign language for him and researches what to do to help him feel normal and supports him as his parents are forced to confront how they've failed their son with their lack of acceptance of being deaf. Like his whole story is just him finally getting to live his life normally again after being shut off from the world and having a supportive boyfriend. At the end of the show, he goes to a deaf college in America to study engineering.

he became deaf after a disease and since then is isolated in his home for 3 years. these years also coincide with the pandemic. and his parents didnt learn sign, just writing their messages in a paper and sliding it to him without hearing what he has to say. he was also presumably degraded for talking because it wasnt very clear because hes literally deaf. his parents by the end of the show try to talk better to him through sign but good god. he was so lonely

Heart is an amazing character. His story show us the hardships he faces with his family acceptance but also the importance of forming a community. His love story with ming is beautiful and heartwarming.

Heart is sheltered by his parents after losing his hearing due to illness. Throughout the series, however, his parents gain more understanding of him and his abilities and he gains a found family with his boyfriend Li Ming and Li Ming's family and it's all so heartwarming and wholesome. Although his parents see him as unable to live a normal life after he loses his hearing, he disproves this by seeking work, building relationships, and getting into college for engineering. He is the best boy!

When we first meet Heart, he is very sheltered from the outside world by his parents, who have taken pretty much no effort to understand Heart’s needs or wants since he lost his hearing. He is homeschooled and doesn’t seem to have any friends or sense of community. His parents leave him alone all the time, choosing instead to focus on their work. His bedroom is full of notes that his parents have left him. Hung up on the walls are different sign language posters, clueing the audience into the fact that he taught himself sign language. Over the course of the show, Heart develops a friendship and, eventually, relationship with Li Ming, a boy who works at a chicken rice shop. Li Ming sneaks Heart out of the house, where they do all kinds of things together – participating in a lantern festival, attending a community gathering for deaf folks, and learning how to drive a motor scooter, off the top of my head. While learning how to ride the motor scooter, however, Heart has a small accident and his parents find out about him sneaking out. The confrontation scene is one that is definitely best translated on-screen, but I’ll try to describe it the best I can. Basically, Heart, Li Ming, and Heart’s parents all hash it out. Heart’s parents accuse Li Ming of influencing Heart to disobey them, Li Ming explains that Heart wanted – and is capable of – doing the things they did together, Heart’s parents barely even look at him during the entire exchange, Heart finally gets fed up and tells his parents exactly how they make him feel, and Heart’s parents have to ask Li Ming what Heart was saying. After this confrontation, things get a bit better with Heart’s parents, though not perfect. At the end of the show, Heart and Li Ming travel overseas together, where Heart attends university and Li Ming works, a dream they talk about quite a few times over the course of the show.

He’s the first deaf love interest in a Thai drama! And he has the most adorable love story with another guy called Li Ming in the show who learns sign language in order to communicate with him more effectively. While he faces struggle from his parents being extremely overprotective after he lost his hearing a few years ago (also since he’s still a teenager) it ends up resolved with them changing their mindset and allowing him full freedom. His story shows struggle while not being a tragedy, and he ends the show going to study in America with his boyfriend being really happy <3

Anything Else?:

I feel like it isn't very often we see deaf queer characters, especially not ones who find love and a happy ending!

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @burnsuncomet is the second submitter.

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #lgbtq dcs round 1 #lgbtq dcs wave 2 #floofty fizzlebean #bugsnax #heart #moonlight chicken

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drownedinlavender · 10 months

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Helloooo, so I'm writing a long kyman fic. It's gonna be a slow burn multi-chapter one. I got like a good 1/3 of it down with like a skeleton of events mapped out. Since I haven't been active in any fandom or like written fanfic since I was a teen, I wanted to post an excerpt to kinda test the waters a bit haha I'm kinda shy about sharing stuff but was greatly inspired by a lot of people's work.

Anyway, the premise is Cartman impulsively taking the fall on something and being admitted to inpatient cause of it. This excerpt is when he facetimes the gang to tell them about it. Stan and Kenny are at school during lunch, Kyle's at the hospital (has to do with what Cartman took the blame for), and Eric's at home about to leave.

I'd greatly appreciate any criticism or input! Thank u for ur time 💜💖 ^^)/

"Dude, a psych ward? That sounds pretty serious," Stan looks mildly concerned.

"It is serious, Stan. That's why Kyle's gonna owe me big time when I get back," Eric smuggly declares, "Like sucking my balls big big time."

Kenny sneakers at the brunette still obsessing over a bet they made years ago when they were just kids.

"Man, you gotta lay off the balls thing, Cartman. That's hella gay," Stan drily informs while munching on a fry.

"Hey! It's not gay! It's about humiliation and having power over an individual," Eric offendedly denies, choosing to die on that hill.

Kyle, who has been absolutely seething in the background, finally bursts, "Fuck you, Cartman! I didn't ask you to cover for me, you did that all on your own!"

Eric scoffs, "Okay, fine, Kahl, would you prefer me going to PC principal and telling him I take it all back. That he should take you off the team like he wanted? Is that what you want, Kahl?"

Kyle tenses his jaw muscles as he grinds his teeth. Of course that's not what he wants but is Cartman holding one over his head any better? His eyes flicker to the side as he contemplates for a brief moment. Stan continues eating, staring at his screen waiting for his best friend to speak as if he's watching an enthralling reality tv show. Once Kenny's giggling fit finally subsides, he lays his head on one outstretched arm and sneaks a French fry from whoever's lunch tray is right across from him.

"Fine," Kyle bitterly concedes with a sigh, "but I'm not helping you do anything illegal like murder or whatever. And I'm definitely not sucking your balls," he points at Cartman through the screen.

"Oh…" a small voice utters in surprise across the room from Kyle. The redhead looks up at a shocked nurse half way through the door. "I-I'll come back in a second to check your vitals," she embarrassedly scurries out of the room.

Kyle's mortified face soon matches his hair. "God, damn it, Cartman!"

Kenny practically dies of laughter, not even bothering to hold his phone up right anymore.

"Dude," Stan snorts before cracking up as well.

Kyle hides his face with one hand, trying with every fiber of his being to maintain any ounce of composure he can muster before combusting from rage.

Eric's amused smile warps into a shit eating grin, he absolutely could not be any more delighted by the current turn of events. He obnoxiously clears his throat before continuing, "Very well, I'll leave a legally binding contract in your room before departing, Kahl. Now Kenny," he seamlessly changes the topic.

Kenny straightens himself out the best he can. "Uh-huh?" He responds through tears.

"Wait a second, fatass, do NOT break into my room!" Kyle protests.

Eric purposely ignores his rival, knowing it'll anger him further. "Kenny, my mom says you can use your spare key to clear out my fridge whenever. She's gonna stay up in Denver with some cousin until I'm out. We don't want the food rotting up and stinking up the place so do it sooner rather than later, got it?"

"Seriously, dude?!" Kenny immediately straightens himself out in elated surprise. Woohoo!" He cheers. He knows their fridge is always packed so he and his little sister are definitely set for bit.

"Knock yourself out, dude, just don't let anything rot in there. Seriously, I'll kick your ass if I come back and my house reeks like spoiled ass."

"You got it, bro," Kenny assures with a thumbs up.

"Don't ignore me, asshole!" Kyle's demands only serve to further Cartman's amusement.

"Welp, gotta go pack up some essentials. Don't know how long I'll have to be admitted … but it's all worth it for my dear friend Kahl's sake," Eric fakes sincerity. With a hand over his heart, he winks at Kyle.

"Oh, Fuck off," Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Well, good luck, dude. Don't blow up the place trying to escape," Stan waves goodbye from his screen.

"Guys, wanna say bye to Cartman? He's gonna go do some time at a loony bin," Kenny asks, reversing his camera to show the rest of their lunch table.

"We heard. You guys are super loud," Craig complains before biting his burger.

"Hey! Don't call it a loony bin, asswipe! That's totally insensitive to people with mental health issues. Not cool dude," Cartman condescendingly lectures, doing what he does best, playing the victim.

"Cartman's getting admitted? Dude, that's crazy!" Tweek comments.

"Wait, who's getting what now?" Clyde looks up from his phone, unaware of the conversation going on around him.

"Cartman, dude, he got in trouble again so PC principal's sending him to a psych ward," Tweek rapidly explains.

"Oh," Clyde responds in his usual nasally tone.

"All in order to save Kyle from getting kicked off the team," Cartman adds.

"Don't act like you did it from the kindness of your heart, fatass!" Kyle quickly corrects.

"First it's Cartman, then they'll be coming for the rest of us!" The jittery blond panics.

Craig pats his boyfriend's shoulder. "No they won't, honey, we don't cause the town to blow up every other month like they do."

"Hey!" Kyle indignantly exclaims.

"We haven't been directly responsible for the town's destruction for like," Stan counts the time in his head, "at least a year now!" He defends himself and his friends, receiving a middle finger from an unimpressed Craig.

"L-l-later, Eric, don't dr-dro-dr-dro-drop the soap," Jimmy jokes before offering up his signature smile.

"Jim, that's for jail," Tolkien corrects.

"Aw, we'll miss you, Eric! Don't take too long in the psych ward!" Butters gleefully shouts.

Kyle rolls his eyes, feeling himself getting more and more irritated by the situation at hand. "Oh, for Pete's sake, it's not like he's dying, you guys." The longer these farewells are dragging on, the more he can feel a twinge of guilt spreading throughout his subconscious and twisting up his guts.

"Poopsikins, mommy can't find Mr. Kitty's carrier, do you remember where we left it?" Liane can be heard calling from the background.

"Just a second, meeem!" Eric hollers off camera before getting back in frame and sticking out his tongue with a peace sign, "Later, losers ~ " he sings-songs and hangs up.

"You know …. For someone being sent off to an insane asylum, he seems really unbothered by it," Tolkien points out.

Kyle's eyes flicker down for just a second before choosing to quickly dismiss further analyzing Cartman's reaction to being sent away. "Well, yeah, it's Cartman. Do you really expect him to react normally about anything?"

"That's true," Tolkien immediately agrees, chalking it up to Cartman just being Cartman.

For a brief moment, Kyle remembers the time he was admitted when the town wouldn't believe him about Mr. Hankey but before he can even decide on entertaining that thought, Stan speaks.

"Wow … so he's really leaving, huh?" Stan says more than asks, looking a bit absent minded.

"I guess so," Kenny pensively looks down at the lunch table, head resting on crossed arms. He turns to Stan and forlornly admits, "dude … I'm actually feeling kinda bummed out."

Kyle bites the inside of his cheek. The reality of their current predicament further sinking in.

"Aw, Ken," Stan frowns and pats Kenny's shoulder.

"It's okay, Ken," Butters comforts, patting Kenny's back, "he said so himself, he probably won't be there for long."

"Isn't this a good thing though? Things are going to be a lot more peaceful while he's gone," Tolkien suggests.

"If Cartman gets admitted for the rest of the school year, I'll be sooooo happy," Craig chants in a monotone.

A sniffle directs everyone's focus towards Clyde.

"Clyde, you okay, buddy?" Craig puts down his lunch to fully focus on his friend's concerns.

"We *sniff* were starting to *sniff* get along more *sniff* this year," he powers through a closing throat.

Kyle bites his cheek even harder. Cartman was certainly a lot tamer as of late. Things were finally getting comfortable between the two of them, too.

"He was being a lot c-coo-c-coo-cooler this y-year," Jimmy admits.

The nurse knocks before entering Kyle's room this time. "I'm going to take your vitals again, okay?" She smiles.

"Yeah, sure," Kyle replies before addressing his friends, "I gotta go guys. Stan, can you come pick up my keys and move my car before my parents get back? I have a minor concussion so I'm under observation for a bit."

"Yeah, dude, totally," Stan confirms.

"Later," Kenny mumbles, waving with one hand, his face fully immersed in his crossed arms.

"Alright, thanks, see you guys later," Kyle says his goodbyes, queuing the nurse to begin taking his blood pressure.

Kyle barely moves, too busy contemplating Eric's departure. First, Stan moves and now Cartman's going to be gone for God knows how long? He bitterly sighs.

#kyman #kyman fanfic #kyman fanfiction #eric x kyle #eric cartman x kyle broflovski #cartyle #south park kyman #drownedinthekiddiepool

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Homophobia feat. Queer Teacher Alliance

Prompts: hi, sorry if requests aren’t open, but you wrote a fic called Homphobia feat. A Two Hour Math Test and it’s honestly been one of my comfort fics, and I wanted to request something kind of similar? A human au where one of the sides (preferably patton but you can do whichever character you want!) accidentally outs himself while arguing with a homophobic teacher about LGBTQ stuff and starts getting bullied for it by the students and the teacher. The other sides (actually good teachers) find him having a breakdown and comfort him and stand up for him against the other teacher, and it’s just emotional hurt/comfort and validation all around. Absolutely no pressure to do this if you don’t want to/it’s too similar to the other one /gen! wishing you a lovely day :D - anon

hello there! first not-anon fic request so I'm kind of panicking a little but it's fine!! anyway, I've recently reread Homophobia feat. a 2-hour Math Test, and it's been really comforting for a person who grew up and went to school in a very rural part of America (eugh republicans everywhere). I was wondering if you would be willing to write another work in that realm of Virgil suddenly having this insanely elaborate (insanely gay) support system that he didn't think was possible. or him turn table-ing on that support system and helping them with their problems. idk just something I've been thinking about! love ur stuff and I hope you'll take my request into consideration!! <3 - vinnbee631

Read on Ao3

Warnings: homophobic language, outing, panic attacks/anxiety attacks

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5851

Listen, all high school days suck, this one was just shaping up to suck more than literally all of the other ones ever. Namely, he was stuck in a class where not only was there a homophobic argument going on—as in, both sides are being homophobic and just debating on how best to be homophobic—but the teacher is doing literally fucking nothing to stop them.

Okay, first off? There’s actually nothing wrong with not being straight. Big mind shock there to some people apparently, but yeah, nope. Nothing wrong with not wanting to get into a relationship or have sex with the opposite gender.

Second, there’s no curing it because there’s nothing wrong with not being straight. There aren’t some fucking factory settings you can just reset to default and everything’s all heterosexual and cisgender again.

And third, there’s never a good reason to be using slurs in a classroom. Never.

All things that Virgil would love to say out loud but he’s currently seething a bit too much at no one else saying a goddamn thing. Especially the teacher. Come on, the teacher is supposed to be the one educating everyone, that includes educating bigots on their ignorance so they can, you know, not be ignorant and bigoted anymore? Ring any bells literally at all?

Apparently not because it’s been ten fucking minutes of this shit and the teacher hasn’t even so much as blinked.

Eventually, Virgil gets fucking sick of this—fair—and raises his hand to ask to go to the bathroom. Which is another stupid thing about high school because why in the fuck should I have to ask to go to the bathroom? What else am I gonna do, fucking piss myself in the middle of the classroom? Hell no.

The teacher waves offhandedly and he gets up to go, but not before one of them catches sight of him leaving and decides, like an idiot, to try and involve him in the conversation.

“Hey, Virgil! Virgil, you think I’m right, don’t you?”

“Uh, I haven’t super been paying attention.” Which is true.

“Where’re you going? Class isn’t over yet.”

Oh, don’t I know it. “Bathroom.”

“You’re not going to meet up with someone for, y’know, reasons are you?”

There are somehow more discreet and much better ways to ask if someone in your high school class is going to hook up with someone in the bathroom, and Virgil would prefer hearing literally any of them right now.

“Oh my god, Kyle, you can’t just say something like that.”

Thank you, other homophobe.

“Besides, Virgil would never be gay. He’s a good person!”

Okay, back to fuck you, other homophobe.

“You can’t just blame sexuality on morality! You can’t just automatically assume all bad people are going to be gay or that all good people aren’t gay!”

That on its own as a sentence? Fine. Sure. Whatever. In the context of this conversation? Virgil really wants to throw a desk at Kyle’s head. He tries to just continue out of the classroom, but Kyle catches him by the sleeve and he grits his teeth.

“Dude, seriously I’m just trying to use the bathroom. Lemme go.”

“Wait, wait, hold on, you gotta convince Leslie that I’m right.”

Virgil doesn’t have to do shit.

“Look,” Leslie says like she’s talking to a person incapable of understanding any sort of logic, “if you make bad choices, you just have to recognize why they’re bad and then you’ll come to your senses enough not to do it anymore. If you just give someone the space and support they need to understand why the choices they’re making are bad for them, they’ll realize that they need to stop making those choices.”

“You do realize that most of them don’t give a shit about what’s good or bad, right? They like it, they enjoy it, they’re not gonna want to change. You can’t just make someone change their sexuality, that’s not how it works.”

Again, single sentences by itself? Fine. Hell, Virgil might say something similar. But right now? The way it’s being used? Kyle’s face really looks like it needs a desk in it right now.

“Virgil, you agree with me, right?”

No, Leslie, I sure the fuck don’t.

“If gay people would just…understand that their lifestyle is unsustainable and unsatisfying, they wouldn’t be gay anymore. It’s the same with alcohol and drugs and all that stuff. If you understand why it’s bad for you, you won’t do it anymore.”

Virgil blinks once. Twice.

You ever just…need a moment to process how much stupid someone just said to you? Like you need to take a second to look at the massive suitcase in front of you before deciding it’s too much to unpack and just throwing it all in the dumpster?

“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard,” Kyle says—which is fair— “gay people are criminals. They’re breaking the law and they should be punished for it,” which is not fair.

“Actually,” Virgil says, still trying to tug his sleeve away, “it is legal now. Gay marriage is legal, Kyle.”

“Yeah, but so was slavery at one point. Doesn’t make it right.”

“Did you just compare gay marriage to slavery and think it was a good comparison?”

Kyle waves his hand like that just dismisses Virgil’s very good point about false equivalence. “And it’s against religious law too.”

“You do realize that we live in a secular state, right?”

“What’s that mean?”

“There’s a separation of church and state. Religion doesn’t govern, it doesn’t make the laws. We have religious freedom for a reason. And there are plenty of other religions in the country that—“

“Okay, okay, but like, it’s still wrong.”

“Why?”

Kyle looks at him strangely. “Dude, why are you so upset?”

“I dunno, maybe because both of you are being idiots? There’s nothing wrong with being gay!”

“There’s nothing wrong with people who are gay, no,” Leslie says quickly, as if he’s agreeing with her, “but if they made better choices then—“

“You’re wrong too,” Virgil says, “being gay isn’t a choice. You don’t just wake up and choose to be gay.”

“Hah! See?”

“I’m not agreeing with either of you, you’re both wrong. Now I really need to pee so if you’ll excuse me—“

“Dude, just tell us why you’re so upset about this and we’ll—“

He sees the moment Kyle’s eyes widen and his sleeve is let go like it’s gonna burn him.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, “no, no, no, you can’t be, we’ve—we’ve shared a locker room, there’s no way.”

“What are you talking about, Kyle? I told you, there’s no way Virgil’s gay, he’s a good person.”

“What part of sexuality isn’t morality did you not get,” Kyle hisses, “he’s—oh my god, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Virgil, just tell him you’re not gay.” Leslie looks up at him. “You’re not, right? You’re not gay, are you?”

Now, see, here’s what Virgil should do. He should just shake his head and tell them they’re both fucking idiots and go to the bathroom. He should be like ‘that’s none of your goddamn business’ and leave. Hell, maybe he should just say that no, he’s not gay, so they’ll let him get out.

He doesn’t do any of those things. He just stands there.

“Oh goodness,” Leslie mumbles like she’s about to faint, “no, no, Virgil, you can’t.”

“Get the hell away from me,” Kyle spits, shoving himself into another chair, “get your goddamn hands off me.”

“You grabbed me,” Virgil points out, “I was just trying to leave.”

“Virgil, Virgil, sit down—“

“Don’t fucking tell him to sit down! I don’t want that anywhere near me!”

“Excuse me,” the teacher says, finally, like he’s just pulled his head out of his goddamned ass, “you three need to be quiet. Virgil, if you’re going to the bathroom, go.”

“Go and don’t come back,” Kyle spits, “I don’t want any of your gay shit near me.”

See, now, Virgil expects the teacher to, you know, maybe tell him off for swearing, at least?

“…Kyle, it’s not nice to be throwing around accusations like that.”

“It’s not an accusation if it’s true!”

The teacher looks up at Virgil. Virgil looks back at him.

Come on, man, just…just don’t be a piece of shit.

“…Virgil, when you return, why don’t you and I take a walk down to the counselor’s office so we can discuss your…mental health. I understand that high school is a very challenging time—“

Virgil tunes out the rest of whatever the fuck the teacher is spouting because oh my fucking god. He turns around and flees to the safety of the hallway.

Fucking go. Doesn’t matter where just fucking get the fuck out of this place and away from those assholes before you die.

His heart is fucking pounding and he wants to slam his head into the wall until he gets their stupid fucking voices out of his head and he hates this, he hates this.

He doesn’t know where his feet are taking him but a chill breeze tells him he’s near the east wing. The science classrooms and art classrooms are over here. They keep the windows open for the fumes. Right. That’s where he is. That’s all the way on the other side of the school. Great. Fun. This is fine.

He sinks into a crouch near one of the corners out of sight of the rest of the hallway. His lungs still aren’t cooperating. This is fine. This is fine. This is fine.

He curls himself into a ball. He pulls his hoodie tightly around him. He yanks on the strings until he can feel the hood digging into his head.

If he just stays here, if he stays a little bad where no one can find him, he’ll be safe.

“Whoa, hey, pretty sure you can’t be here, bud.”

Nope. No more teachers. He’s just gonna stay still and not move.

“C’mon, you don’t want detention, I don’t wanna write you up, let’s just get you back to where you need to go, okay?”

There’s a hand on his shoulder that’s trying to get him to look up and Virgil doesn’t care anymore, he’d rather be in detention than go back to his class right now.

“Hey, it’s—wait, V?”

That’s Mr. Dagenheart, isn’t it? He’s the art teacher, right. Okay. Probably not gonna get dragged off to the principal right away.

“V, can you look at me?”

Virgil peels himself up from where his face is plastered in his knees and stares up at Mr. Dagenheart. There’s a green streak across his mustache.

“You…got paint,” he mumbles in a ruined voice, raising a trembling hand to tap his upper lip.

Mr. Dagenheart just stares down at him. “V, you look awful.”

“…’anks.”

“No, wait, what happened? C’mon, come up off the floor, it’s even grosser than me. C’mere, come in here, come talk to me.”

Virgil lets himself get scraped off the floor and helped into the art room, sat on a stool as Mr. Dagenheart blusters around trying to find a cup that hasn’t got paint or paint thinner in it. Eventually there’s a clean plastic cup shoved gently into his hands as he tries to get the shaking back under control.

“Drink up, it’s safe. Promise. Got a fresh one just for you.”

“Thanks.”

Mr. Dagenheart watches as he drains the cup, quickly filling it up with more and setting it on the table. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing all the way over here? I’m not supposed to catch sight of you until after lunch when you and your other gremlins go bother Mackenzie next door.”

“I, um…”

How in the fuck is he supposed to explain what just happened?

“…I was trying to go to the bathroom.”

“Bathroom ain’t over her, V.”

“I know.”

“Did you get lost? Did you have a panic attack?”

“…kind of?”

Mr. Dagenheart nudges him gently. “I’m only gonna be able to do so much if you don’t tell me what’s going on, V.”

Virgil toys with the plastic cup, one of the edges almost tearing under his fingers. “I’m…I’m not bad, am I?”

“Are you bad? Whoa, hey, no, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly, reaching out to put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “I just…you just surprised me, that’s all. No, V, you’re not bad.”

“I’m not a bad person?”

Mr. Dagenheart frowns but shakes his head. “No, Virgil, you’re not a bad person. Why are you asking me that?”

“E-even if I’m…if I’m gay?”

Silence.

Fuck. I fucked it up. I fucked it up so bad and now I’m gonna have to run again.

“Virgil,” Mr. Dagenheart says, looking more serious than he’s ever seen him before, “you are not a bad person. You are not a bad person, do you hear me? It doesn’t matter what your sexuality is, you are not a bad person. Being gay does not make you a bad person, you understand?”

Virgil just nods, a bit dazed by the sudden intensity.

“Can you say that with me?”

“Being gay d-doesn’t make me a bad person,” Virgil stammers, “but—“

“No buts, V. Being gay doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No, Virgil. Being gay isn’t bad. It’s just gay. Nothing wrong with being gay. Promise.”

And to his absolute horror, Virgil sniffles.

“Oh, hey, c’mere, come gimme a hug. Oh, hey…” Mr. Dagenheart gathers him in for a gross and messy hug and it’s the best thing that’s happened to Virgil all day. “There, that’s better, right?”

“‘M sorry for—for crying you.”

“Hey, it’s my job to be gross, I don’t care.” He pulls back and pushes the cup of water at him. “Drink. I’ll get you a tissue.”

One tissue box and several cups of water later, Virgil rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. Mr. Dagenheart watches him carefully, nodding when Virgil glances over at him.

“Did someone say something to you? Is that why—“ he waves a hand at Virgil’s general messiness— “this happened?”

“…yeah.”

“Can I call your homeroom teacher? He should know about it.”

“W-wait, what?”

“Virgil, if someone’s being openly homophobic, I need to tell someone. Especially since it led to you getting hurt.”

“B-but I’m fine.” Mr. Dagenheart gives him a look. “…do you really have to tell him?”

“I should,” he says, softer now, “but we can wait a bit if you’d rather do that.”

Virgil toys with the strings on his hoodie. “…you can tell him.”

“Thanks.” Mr. Dagenheart picks up the phone and dials a number. “Mr. Everheart? Patton, yeah, listen, can you come down to my room? Need to talk to you about something. Okay, great.”

He hangs up the phone and turns back to Virgil.

“He’ll be down in a moment.”

“And he—“ god, this is such a stupid question— “he’ll be—he’ll be fine?”

Mr. Dagenheart rests a hand on his shoulder again. “Yeah, V. He’s gonna be on your side about all this, I promise.”

Virgil nods, his eyes on the door.

“Hey.” Mr. Dagenheart nudges him. “I’m really proud of you, okay? Coming out is really hard, especially when it’s like this. Thank you for being willing to share this with me.”

“…didn’t feel fair not to?”

Mr. Dagenheart shakes his head. “It’s your life, Virgil. Your moment. Your coming out. There’s no shame in staying in the closet if it isn’t safe to be out of it.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the door, swinging open to reveal a concerned-looking Mr. Everheart who only grows more concerned when he sees Virgil sitting there, very obviously have-been-crying.

“Virgil? What’s going on, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine, I just—“ goddamnit, why is your soft concern making me cry again— “I jus’—I—“

“Hey, it’s alright, kiddo, you take your time.” Mr. Everheart rubs his back as he glances up, watching Mr. Dagenheart push more water toward him. “What happened? Panic attack?”

“Do you want me to tell him,” Mr. Dagenheart asks quietly, “or do you want to?”

Virgil shuffles, pulling his hoodie a bit tighter around his shoulders refusing to meet their gazes.

“Got outed during a homophonic argument,” he mumbles, “went…bad.”

“Oh, kiddo, I’m so sorry that happened. Are you okay?” Virgil just shrugs. “Yeah, well, I suppose that’s fair.”

“Better now.”

“I’m glad.”

“…do I still have to go back to class?”

“No,” Mr. Dagenheart says just as Mr. Everheart says, “goodness, no.”

“Yay.”

“It’s almost lunch, anyway,” Mr. Everheart continues, glancing at the clock, “if Mr. Dagenheart doesn’t mind us invading his classroom a little longer…”

“God no. Stay all you want. I don’t have anyone in here until last period.”

“Thanks.”

He pats Virgil’s shoulder. “’Course. Do you want to get your lunch? You hungry?”

“Not really. ‘M fine.”

“You should try and eat something,” Mr. Everheart encourages, “just to keep your strength up.”

“Maybe later.”

“Alright, later it is, then.”

Virgil has a sneaking suspicion he’s gonna get held to that.

“Who was it,” Mr. Everheart continues, “that was involved?”

“…um…”

“I get not being a snitch,” Mr. Dagenheart says, “but these people are using homophobic language on campus and they’re bullying you. That’s not acceptable, Virgil.”

“No, it’s not. And I can’t let it happen. Especially if they start doing it more.”

Virgil chews his lip. “K-Kyle and Leslie,” he mumbles, “a-and…”

“And…?” Mr. Everheart prompts. “I can keep your name out of it, if that’ll make you feel better.”

“…the, um…the teacher kinda…joined in too.”

“He did fucking what?”

“Remus,” Mr. Everheart hisses even though the hand on Virgil’s shoulder has tightened significantly, “language.”

“I’m not gonna give a shit about language if I’m getting told one of my colleagues is being homophobic,” Mr. Dagenheart seethes, “especially to a student!”

“Guys,” Virgil says a bit desperately, “it’s not—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Virgil. This is a big deal and it’s not okay.”

“He’s right,” Mr. Everheart says, “this is unacceptable, Virgil.”

He gentles a bit when he sees how obviously upset Virgil is about all of this.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing his back again, “thank you for telling us. We’re not going to bring your name into it when we take it up with the Dean, but you know we can’t let this happen again, right?”

Virgil nods, feeling tears well up behind his eyes again as he fiddles with the empty plastic cup. Mr. Everheart makes a sympathetic noise.

“Do you want a hug?”

“…sure.”

Why does he give such good hugs? This isn’t fair. I’m just gonna cry again. Nope, no more crying over those assholes, they don’t deserve it.

“There’s another sink in the back,” Mr. Dagenheart suggests, taking the now-mangled cup from him, “it’s cleaner. There are towels back there too, clean ones. Why don’t you go wash your face off? It might feel better.”

“O-okay.” He glances up with a watery smile. “Are you gonna wash the paint off too?”

“I think I like it, actually. Makes my face look more interesting.”

Virgil manages a laugh as he heads to the back room, listening to the two of them start talking quietly. Okay. Okay, this is fine. This actually turned out…kind of okay. Mr. Dagenheart seems pissed but not at him and Mr. Everheart seems like he wants to help and not make a big deal out of it. Good. These are both good things. He can work with this. Everything might actually turn out okay.

He turns on the tap and shoves up his sleeves, splashing the cold water on his face and dabbing it off with a towel. He’s just about to hang it back over the rail when he hears the door open again.

“There you are, I thought we’d have to search the whole building for you!”

“He left a note saying he’d be down here, it wasn’t exactly a stellar deduction.”

“Mm, and we all know who the expert at those is.”

Nope. Nevermind. He takes it back. This is not okay. This is very much no okay. No okays here.

He knows who just walked in.

That was Mr. Prince, Mr. Mackenzie, and Mr. DeLuca. Shit.

What in the fuck are they all doing here? Do they all meet up for lunch or some shit? Fuck, that’s exactly what’s going on, isn’t it? They’re all here for their lunch break and that means Virgil’s gonna have to find somewhere else to hide for the rest of the day and shit, he’s not gonna be able to make it out of this room without anyone noticing, is he?

Fuck, why did it have to be them?

‘Cause Mr. Prince is gonna wanna know exactly what’s going on and he’s—god, extra doesn’t even begin to cover it and he may or may not be part of the reason Virgil realized he was gay in the first place, how in the fuck is he supposed to explain what’s going on?

And Mr. Mackenzie is super fucking serious and no-laughing all the time, he’s not gonna react well to Virgil being all emotional and crying and being upset about things, not when he’s got work to do and he has his class later, fuck.

And Mr. DeLuca is fucking scary. Fuck, he’s given Virgil panic attacks before, he fucking eats students alive if they try and pull dramatics in his classroom, he’s so fucked.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Normally, we’re the ones who come to meet you.”

Don’t tell them I’m here. Please, for the love of god, don’t tell them.

“I got called down,” Mr. Everheart says, “Remus wanted to talk about something.”

“Oh?” Mr. Prince must pull out a stool or something. “Do tell.”

No. Don’t tell. Don’t say shit.

“Whatever it is, surely it can wait until we’re at lunch,” Mr. DeLuca says smoothly—yes, please, leave so I can run out of here— “now, if you don’t mind, shall we?”

“Gimme a second.”

Virgil has about two seconds before Mr. Dagenheart appears around the corner and shuts the door to the back room, coming over and taking the towel from his hands.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “look at me, Virgil.”

The others are still here. They could hear him.

“Hey.” Virgil’s eyes snap to his. “There. Good. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Breathing is stupid.

“Come on, in and out, you can do it.”

He can hear them talking through the door. Did Mr. Everheart just say there’s a student back there? Shit, he did. They’re talking about it now. Fuck, why did they have to talk about it?

“Virgil,” Mr. Dagenheart says firmly, “you’re panicking. Come on, just focus on me. Breathe in…”

Slowly, Virgil lets him walk him through a breathing exercise, squeezing his hands to make sure he can still move them and everything. But Virgil can still hear the others talking so his gaze keeps darting to the side and eventually Mr. Dagenheart asks if he wants them kicked out.

“N-no, you’ve—you have lunch plans—“

“You’re more important than my damn lunch plans, Virgil, now do you want me to kick them out?”

“…can you just make them be quiet?”

And of course he goes right over to the door, throws it open, and yells: “all of you shut the fuck up, you’re making it worse.”

“That is not what I meant,” Virgil hisses when he comes back over looking way too pleased with himself.

“Yeah, but I don’t get enough excuses to do that anyway. Now,” he says, reaching out to take his shoulders, “you doing okay? If you wanna hide in here for the rest of the day that’s fine with me, we just gotta get some food in you first.”

As appealing as it sounds, it does smell like paint fumes in here and Virgil’s few remaining braincells would appreciate not being murdered.

“Okay,” is the response he gets when he says as much—slightly edited, thank you— “do you wanna come back to the front now? You don’t have to tell ‘em anything, but they are gonna ask you what’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“Aside from the fact that you’ve kinda obviously been having a panic attack—“ rude but okay— “they’re gonna care, Virgil. And they’ll be on your side too, okay?”

“…they will?”

“Yeah, V. Promise they will.”

“How obvious is it that I’ve been crying?”

“…listen I’m not a very good liar, V, but you do look okay.”

Virgil glances around for anything that might be vaguely a mirror and gives up, pulling his hoodie down to cover his shaking hands and following Mr. Dagenheart back to the front of the art room.

As soon as he gets through the doorway and feels all of the eyes looking at him, though, he wants to shrivel up and disappear.

“Virgil?” Oh, hey, Mr. Prince, what’s going on? “Virgil, is that you? Are you alright?”

No, as a matter of fact, I am most certainly not. “…yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie to us, Virgil,” comes Mr. DeLuca’s voice and Virgil isn’t quick enough to stop his flinch.

“What’s happened,” Mr. Prince asks as really fucking warm hands land on his shoulders and steer him to a stool, “what’s wrong?”

“Let’s not overwhelm him,” he hears Mr. Dageheart hiss, “c’mon, Ro, don’t be an idiot.”

“Oh, y’know,” Virgil tries, aiming for casual nihilism and missing by a few major philosophical paradigm shifts, “getting homophobic comments hurled at me, trying not to have an existential breakdown, just your every day high school things.”

“Someone was using homophobic language to bully you?” Mr. Prince’s grip suddenly tightens on his shoulder. “Did they out you as well?”

“…kinda outed myself by accident, but…”

“No, Virgil that’s not—look at me.”

He looks up because he’s a fucking idiot and sees Mr. Prince staring at him all soft and concerned and he is going to die, this is how.

“Do not ever blame yourself for other people’s ignorance,” he says firmly, holding eye contact, “you are not to blame for their shortcomings and it is not your job to make them understand just how little they know. That’s not your responsibility nor should you feel like it is.”

“…okay.”

“He’s right,” Mr. DeLuca says and since fucking when has he been that soft, “don’t spend your time trying to make other people better, it’s a thankless job with no reward.”

“…aren’t you a teacher?”

“I said better, not smarter.” But then he’s reaching over and carefully pulling Virgil’s collar away from his neck so it doesn’t choke him, and he’s still looking at him with a soft expression and Virgil is really confused, because why is Mr. DeLuca not skinning him alive right now, “Virgil, look at me.”

The concern is getting stronger, he can see it.

“Hey,” he says and how is his voice getting softer, “hey, what’s the matter? What’s scaring you right now?”

“I believe we are.”

Mr. Mackenzie, always there with the great observation skills. No wonder he’s a science teacher.

“Give him some space,” he says, and sure enough everyone except Mr. Prince backs up a little, “let him breathe.”

“Hey,” Mr. Prince murmurs, still rubbing Virgil’s back, “it’s okay. We’re right here. You just take your time, okay? No rush.”

Fuck it. I just got outed, had homophobic insults hurled at me, and I’m currently in the middle of a bunch of mental breakdowns. I’m allowed to be a mess.

Virgil buries his face in his hands and takes several heaving breaths, trying to focus more on the faint waxy smell of oil pastels and the warmth of the hand between his shoulders. There are a few quiet murmurs around him but other than that, he’s given the space he needs to process what’s going on.

When he finally raises his head, it’s to a tissue box and another cup of water, both of which he accepts gratefully and tries to be a bit more of a person. When he’s gotten as far as he’s gonna get with that, Mr. Prince ruffles his hair and smiles at him.

Not now, gay panic. Please for the love of fuck not now.

“Virgil,” Mr. Mackenzie says, also speaking softly, what the fuck is this, “aside from my class, what else do you have this afternoon?”

“Uh…a study period.”

“Are any of you free this last period?”

“I am,” Mr. DeLuca says, “I’ve got one class and that’s it.”

“I would not be opposed to you skipping class today,” and what in the actual good fuck is happening, who are you and what have you done with my science teacher, “considering this is just to be a recap mainly for students who failed coursework for the last week and your scores were exemplary.”

“I—uh—what?”

“He’s saying there’s no reason for you to sit next to homophobes if you don’t want to,” Mr. Dagenheart says, “and so you can spend the first period here with me—if you want, and then Janus’ll take you for the second one.”

“Or we can go see Dr. Picani and see if he’ll write you a note to let you go early.”

Hold on. Back up.

Slow down.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ve just been through a traumatizing experience,” Mr. Mackenzie says, “and therefore are not in an opportune place to learn or benefit in any way from school. The solution I’m proposing is that you spend the rest of the day away from any of the students who could harm you further, be that spending time with Mr. Dagenheart and Mr. DeLuca, or by being excused for the rest of the day.”

Virgil blinks. Okay, yeah, that makes sense, but… “Why?”

“Because your well-being should come before your academics.” He tilts his head when Virgil stares at him like he’s grown two. “What’s that look for?”

“I dunno,” he says warily, “something about one teacher being homophobic and then a whole bunch of them being weirdly out-of-character supportive.”

“A teacher was part of this?”

“Name, Virgil,” Mr. DeLuca says firmly, “now.”

“Don’t scare him,” Mr. Mackenzie chides, seemingly focusing on the second part of that, “Virgil, if we have behaved or acted in any sort of way to make you believe that we would not support you for something like this, we deeply apologize.”

“It’s our job to make students feel like they have a safe learning environment,” Mr. Everheart says—right, he’s here too.

“Though I do want to know the teacher’s name,” Mr. Prince adds.

“…why are you guys doing this?”

Mr. Prince looks at him for a second, before a small smile comes to his face. “Raise your hand if you’re gay.”

Virgil’s eyes widen as every single one of their hands goes up.

“Virgil,” he prompts gently, “did you hear me?”

“Do not pressure someone to come out,” Mr. Dagenheart hisses, “what is wrong with you, Ro?”

“Right, right, sorry.”

“N-no, no, I—“ Virgil slowly raises his hand too— “I got it.”

“See?” Mr. Mackenzie smiles. “We’re with you, Virgil.”

“And whoever that teacher is,” Mr. DeLuca says in his scary voice, “he most certainly will be taught a lesson of his own.”

The cheesy villain line makes Virgil snort as he lowers his hand. “Thanks, guys.”

“Think nothing of it.” Mr. Dagenheart taps the table. “Now, I need food and I’m pretty sure everyone else does too.”

“Virgil, did you bring a lunch?”

“…nope.”

“Great, what’s your favorite kind of pizza?”

“My what now?”

“Thursday is pizza day,” Mr. Prince says by way of explanation as Mr. Mackenzie starts typing on his phone, “and it’s not my week to pay.”

“Excuse you?”

“No, I looked at the calendar, I’m next week.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey, no, wait, I paid last week, so it is Ro’s week.”

“It is not!”

Mr. DeLuca rolls his eyes fondly as the others dissolve into bickering, beckoning a baffled Virgil over to him. “Are you alright, now?”

“…still a bit confused and upset, but…yeah? I think so? I mean, pizza sounds good.”

“I mean it, Virgil,” Mr. DeLuca says, reaching out to ruffle his hair, “if anyone ever says something like that to you again, I don’t care who it is. You come and you tell one of us, do you understand?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

“You…you really don’t mind me being in your classroom at the end of the day?”

“Of course not, sweetie.”

What the fuck—why are petnames happening? Oh, shit, I’m crying again. Oh, fuck, that’s why. Shit.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mr. DeLuca murmurs as he slides the tissue box back over, “everything’s going to be okay.”

Maybe…maybe yeah. Maybe it will. Maybe this day won’t be so bad after all.

Maybe this day is going to be pizza with his cool gay teachers. Maybe it’s going to be spending one period helping Mr. Dagenheart go through some of the old artwork from long-graduated students to decide what to put up on the wall and what to toss. Maybe it’s going to be spending the other with Mr. DeLuca who is secretly a big dorky goofball who likes bad math puns and the same science fiction TV shows that Virgil does.

Maybe today’s gonna be okay.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders

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askmadcomcrew · 8 months

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ill explain the best i can since i have autism:

its a developmental disorder!! it impairs the ability to interact, communicate, or atruggle with tones! and sometimes autistic people have repetitive behaviors or interests that they fixate on greatly

I'm gonna answer this one out of character since this particular topic has crossed my inbox a few times and I never really gave it a proper answer.

The reason I never answer any of the "are any of you guys autistic" questions is simply because, well...I don't have autism. It doesn't really feel right for me as a guy with ADHD to try and be writing an autistic character, and also I personally want to leave it up to interpretation.

The MadCom crew aren't exactly ones to open up about their feelings or mental struggles, I prefer to have people infer what might be going on in their heads from the asks given. It's more fun that way. You can make headcanons about my headcanons, it creates a weird little feedback loop of fun.

It's also kind of why I was hesitant to confirm or deny any character sexuality, again, I like to think that's something people could just decide for themselves. Except for Hank being aro/ace, I knew for a fact that's what I would be doing the moment the question inevitably reached him. It's closest to what's deemed "canon", I suppose.

Krinkels gets asked about it a lot, if Hank is gay, bi, or some other variety of queer, and the usual answer is just "I don't think he's interested in that sort of thing." So I've tried to reflect that in this blog as much as I can, as it's really the most we know about a character's "canon" sexuality.

This also goes with gender identity, and I've tried to reflect Krinkels' viewpoint as well, which is the idea that all grunts are inherently some level of Nonbinary, due to physically lacking any reproductive organs, meaning they can choose to present however they want. It just happens to be that most of our dear protagonists present masculine.

And then there's the question of "do any of you guys have autism?" Where to even begin? Does Autism even exist in Nevada? Do they have people who can test for and diagnose it? How would Autism work in the Nevadean realm as opposed to the Human realm? Do I draw parallels to our world, or do I make it something different entirely?

It's questions like this that lead me into arguably the biggest question: What if I do it wrong?

What if I offend someone? Say something insensitive? Misrepresent a very serious condition that many people experience? Would it be right of me to play it off as just fiction, as it just being "like that" in this world?

I don't think it would, and that's why I've opted to never really confirm it.

So, the long and short of it is, I think that's a question that you, dear reader, must answer yourself. If you want any of these characters here on this blog to be autistic, go right ahead, I can't stop you and nor do I have any desire to.

And anon, in case this comes across the wrong way, I'm not attacking you or accusing you of pushing me into a corner, I'm just giving a proper explanation as to why this particular question has never been met with a straight answer.

(And, again, sorry for the paragraphs.)

#out of character #questions #long post

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obsessivelollipoplalala · 20 days

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Okay I'll write in points here because it's long

It started with Freddie saying something like they are gonna stay together until they die and I thought how poignant it is in hindsight.

I loved Brian May's insights the starting was very sweet with him telling us that him and Freddie shared rooms for a decade, that he knows him really well and about how shy he was until firmly saying that he was gay even if people don't want to believe it. There was another person saying the same thing, I forgot her name but I think it's unfortunate that it's really common for people to outright ignore or deny any queer artists' identity just because they don't want to deal with whatever biases they have going.

Roger Taylor was really mad about the media/tabloids attacking Freddie and I get it especially The Sun because it's still trash today. Just vile and immoral for no reason.

Then it went to them saying that the band had a guess of what's going on with Freddie because they saw him disappear for treatments and coming back with scars but not wanting to believe it so they just never brought it and made a whole album before Freddie ultimately told them.

All the pictures with Jim Hutton were really cute I have to say and his sister saying that she was told that he was the gardener but he was around every time she went to her brother's house so she put 2+2 together lol.

The minute Anita Dobson came on screen I was trying to remember where I had seen her then I remembered it was the doctor who clips that were going viral on Twitter. But she seems so sweet and she had really cute story about how she became friends with Freddie and how he introduced her to Jim. She did say that Freddie told her when he couldn't sing anymore he'll die and that's she thinks what happened. She also seemed really sad that she lost contact with Jim I guess they were close.

Also I got more songs from this documentary so I'm really happy about that, I just googled the lyrics.

I didn't know Elton John was really close with Freddie, he seemed so heartbroken in all the videos they played of him.

Also Joe Elliot was there that was a surprise, was he friends with Freddie? I know I have heard Robert Plant talk about Freddie Mercury before. I secretly adore the idea of all these frontman that people like to pit against each other being friends in real life.

I might watch the tribute concert or atleast the George Micheal's part of it, he sounded so good and David Bowie was clapping from the sidelines during the rehearsal ( I get it, he was superb )

I feel like I got insights to the entire band' dynamic so thats nice because we have all heard Bands going like oh we like each other, we are a family but when one of you is gone and how the rest treat their memory is the true test of that.

I'll respond in bullet points lol

Brian was great in the documentary, and is one of Freddie's most consistent defenders, especially in regards to his sexuality. I love when Brian talks about knowing Freddie so well through sharing rooms and talking about his shyness, because you can just feel the fondness there and get the distinct sense that he loved Freddie the human being as opposed to the showman, which can't be said for everyone who knew Freddie

Yeah, The Sun was particularly vile, and the band really hated the press. Brian wrote the song "Scandal" in 1989 for the album, The Miracle, because the press was hounding Freddie (and Brian about his affair and divorce, but that's another story). I can't remember if this documentary mentioned it, but the fact that the press had set up a camera to see into Freddie's bathroom is just so vile

The Miracle is the album that they made before Freddie told them the truth. If you listen to the album, there are a couple songs hinting at what's going on, because as you saw, the band knew something was wrong. Fun fact: one of Brian's favorite songs that Freddie wrote is "The Miracle" because Freddie was able to write about beautiful things while he was sick

Lol yes, Kashmira knowing that Jim was Freddie's partner was funny

Yep, Anita was in Doctor Who! Her most famous role was in EastEnders in the 80s. There's another interview where she talked about an episode of that show being viewed by millions of people, and overnight people knew her face, and Freddie called her up like, "Guess who's in the paper, darling ;)" Anita was a true friend to Freddie and visited him while he was ill with Brian. Yeah, her theory that Freddie stopped fighting when he couldn't sing anymore lines up...Freddie's last song was "Mother Love"; Brian was the one who wrote it, but Freddie had to go home before it was finished because he was feeling unwell. He said he'd be back, but he never returned to the studio...And yeah, that doc revealed that Anita kept in touch with Jim to some extent. I really wonder what that relationship was like

Yes, Elton John was very close to Freddie! He still tears up when he talks about receiving a Christmas gift from Freddie a mere month after he passed...

I can't remember with the Joe Elliott thing tbh. I think he knew Freddie? I also feel like I'm remembering that he called up Brian after Freddie passed to check in on him, so maybe he was on friendly terms with the band, yeah

The doc does show how close the band was towards the end and how protective Brian and Roger are of Freddie's memory at the very least, yeah. It's really a great doc and I'm glad you watched it and got something out of it

#queen #replies #Anonymous

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cutemeat · 2 years

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ok i Gotta say smth cuz ive been thinking about it... I think that the podcast has brought in this assumption that RCG actually “doesnt think that deeply” about the shows writing but i think that’s total bullshit and here’s why.

The RCG Podcast is most likely pandering/market testing with the wealthier half of RCG’s audience-- aka the more casual (but loyal) viewership of Men aged 18-34... again there is apparently a very wealthy overall demographic, which is totally something i’d tuck away if I were the producer of something.

so my hunch is again RCG is using this podcast to make money and build a good reputation (like they gained from donating all the profits of their Whiskey brand)/good PR and maintain loyalty to the brand amongst even their casual audience (who lately have been slipping due to feeling alienated by recent seasons with stunts like Mac’s MFHP dance, the structure/writing of s15 being more serious than before, gay gay-ass lovestory, etc) cuz as Mac (Rob) states for us in LW7 “[funding] is a very important part of the filmmaking process.”...

so THAT is why for the podcast, they are not going as deep as they used to on the DVD Bonus feature commentary tracks cuz, again, that is not the audience they are aiming to appease with this podcast! When people here say it feels like there’s a certain audience they’re targeting, you are probably not wrong in your suspicions.. its my opinion that u should trust your gut here lmao.

The reason I think there is still very much a heavy degree of care being put into the writing is 1. Glenn is back in the writer’s room and 2. Season 15 (post episodes 1-3) really showed me that they still have a grasp on Sunny threads/metaphors like the “cat in the wall” metaphor... But RCG are very much aware of their reputation as being a "low-brow” “dirty” “peepee poopoo” college-student aged comedy show, so they’re not gonna push the envelope on something like the RCG Podcast that has been scientifically fucking engineered to satiate the more casual half of the audience who does watch the show like that.

Marketing n brand loyalty are all meticulous fuckin things and I don’t doubt that extends even into this kind of territory. maybe im 100% crazy n just lost in the sauce but this is my take on it.

#iasip #i grew up around business ppl i have the desperate need to be able to tell when im being marketed to LOL #i suspected from the very beginning that they were doing this podcast for some image related/#marketing reason... n i think i was right #just rewatch 'Catches a Leprechaun' n esp dennis' whole arc in that ep allright...

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kyluxtrashpit · 11 months

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Okay so. This is going to be a ramble no one cares about but I just have to get it out lmao. I’ve been watching gundam witch from mercury because I’m both a lesbian and a huge gundam fan, so the prospect of a gundam series WITH lesbians is like. What you’d put in my lab experiment reward bottle lmao. That sounds amazing

Thing is though… I want to like the show. I do. I really do. Especially because I just know there are fanboys out there pissing on it immediately cause how dare there be women and gays in “their” show. But. I just. I don’t love it. I find it frustrating to be perfectly honest. I will say season 2 so far as improved GREATLY on season 1 (wtf was the point of 10 episodes of weird high school slice of life drama in a gundam series anyway, it was incredibly boring). But I still am not loving it and if season 2 doesn’t deliver by the end, I’m gonna give up on it

However! I have devised what I would consider a fix for the show. And I’m sure people who actually like it, were they to stumble across this post, would be very unhappy with my fixes lmao but. I stand by them and I’m rambling them here solely so they’ll stop rolling around in my brain. So here we go (spoilers below)

So. First off, gonna really commit to the shoujo-ai/yuri vibes by going full strawberry panic. If we have to have a school, I’m making it an all girl’s school. There are no men there. There is now 0 percent chance of even the slightest hint of heterosexuality among the students. Men can still be like in the political stuff, dads play a big role in this show, but why do we need male students? We don’t. I’m making them all girls now. This will be important later and it's not like it's uncommon in anime, especially in the femslash genre

Second thing: my main issue with this show is Suletta’s lack of emotional reaction to… fucking anything. She’ll be sad for like 30 seconds when something genuinely devastating happens and then it’s over, she got hungry, a friend acknowledged her, she watered tomatoes - boom, she’s cured. Being abandoned/rejected the 3 most important beings in her life in like a week span left her sad for a couple of days (which we didn’t even see - there was literally one like 5 second shot of her lying in a bed and that’s it), sure, but as soon as she gets hungry and her friends say 2 words to her, she’s 100% back to normal. That is insane. That is not how human emotions work. I don’t know whether it’s her character itself or the way her character is written that irks me so much, but I have never seen a less engaging protagonist character like… ever. And I almost never like anime protagonists so that’s impressive. I don’t even dislike her character, I just find her immensely boring to the point where I feel nothing about her except the frustration of what a waste her character is in this setting. If she died in the next episode, all I would feel is surprise, not sadness. It’s like the narrative has no ability to affect or change her - what the hell is the point of her then??? Guel, previously most obnoxious and hate-able character in the show, was made interesting by the narrative, yet the protagonist remains unaffected by it and therefore remains about as interesting as paint drying. Why????? It’s such a waste. But anyway

So if Suletta does not behave like, you know, a person, what does she behave like? Well I would say she has the exact emotional depth of a golden retriever. Bubbly, highly social, a bit anxious, wants to help and be a part of everything, never stays sad for long - that’s a golden retriever right there. It's not good writing, but it's precisely what the writers have done here

So, what if she was literally a golden retriever?

So. Everything’s the same except it’s an all girl’s school now and Suletta is now literally a dog. World’s first mobile suit piloting dog. They send her to the school as sort of a test, to see if this dog can outperform the ace student pilots there. A dog would also still want to rescue Miorine at the start, so this stays intact. Highly social dogs like to be helpful

So. Guel is a girl now and gets her ass kicked by a dog - this is even more humiliating and drives her spiral just as well, if not better. Miorine is also now stuck engaged to a dog, which further cements how dehumanizing and humiliating this marriage arrangement thing is for her and further shows what a piece of shit her father is. The rich spacians would also be super insulted by even the idea that a dog could be a match or better than them, so she'd still end up with the earthians and all that. So the plot remains exactly the same, literally no change

“But KTP, dogs can’t pilot mobile suits!” You cry. But the thing is - the dog isn’t actually doing it. Eri is, because Aerial is sentient. We don’t even know if Suletta as a human is actually any better than average at piloting because of that - she doesn’t need to be, so she probably isn't. So the dog doesn’t actually need to be good or even at all capable, just throw some buttons in there that make it look like the dog is piloting and you’re good. That’s all you need. No one, including the dog, would know better except Eri and Prospera

Prospera - she’s the dog’s owner/trainer. Her grief after losing Eri makes her pursue this. Maybe Eri loved dogs, was obsessed with them, so Prospera got her a dog - even in her current form. And then the plan was born

And because Suletta is a dog and people like dogs, the care she inspires in Miorine and others honestly makes more sense. Of course they want to protect this dog and make her happy and let her be free of these complicated plans and things. She’s a dog. Dogs should be playing and getting belly rubs and being happy. So Miorine, Prospera, and Eri/Aerial all agreeing that Suletta should be set free from their machinations before shit gets real also makes WAY MORE sense. Because it’s both good for the dog AND everyone else cause the last thing you'd want involved in all this is a dog

And, because we made everyone girls at the start, Miorine could go into a romance with literally any character and it’d still be the lesbian gundam except now there’s just also a dog there who behaves identically to human Suletta except for not being able to talk. Because if your protagonist is so much more a plot device than a character that you could replace her with a literal actual dog and the plot remains completely unchanged like. That’s an atrocious and insulting way to treat a female character, especially a queer one, so why not just actually do that and have an even more unique story concept and let all your female characters feel like actual people?

They could also, you know, just make Suletta a compelling character with a real, developed personality instead too, but that would involve more radical changes to the plot (which I also think would likely be an improvement but) lmao. However, when doing these 'fix it' concepts, I always aim to change as little as possible as a challenge for myself. So that's what I've done here

And with that, my job here is done, and now I just know I’m gonna be even more mad at this week’s episode cause this even gayer, more dog-filled version I’ve made up in my head is already better than the actual show lmfao

#god this show has got me wanting to look for my simoun dvds wherever they are in storage #been like over a decade since I watched it but I remember it fondly #cause lesbian mecha is a very tasty yet rare treat #except when it makes me mad like this lmfao #pls let no fans of the show find this skskdjs #I feel like they'd get really mad at me even though I'm right #text #misc #shut up nerd

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