be mine.
billy sighs. rests his forehead against the cool metal of his locker. tries to ignore the hum of people talking around him. holding hands. cuddling. it’s a shitty day. it’s a shitty day and billy knew it was going to be a shitty day before it even started.
he knew because he had been the one to say it. yesterday. to tell steve that they’re not- that billy doesn’t need to be treated like a fucking girl. that they’re just screwing around. that he doesn’t give a shit if steve wants to fuck someone else today.
that steve might as well go crawling back to wheeler because billy sure as shit can’t hold his hand or call him sweetheart in the hallways. that he gets enough heat at home without the whole of hawkins high knowing how much of a queer billy hargrove is.
and then billy had walked off. slammed the door behind him and gone home. had picked a fight with neil just to top it off.
all because he was scared.
is scared. scared of steve harrington with his preppy fuckin’ polos and dumb hair. his pretty eyes and pretty smile and ability to tilt billy’s world on its axis just by looking at him. scared that steve will get bored of him. that he’ll realise billy isn’t worth the effort.
scared.
billy sighs again. shuffles back slightly and glares down as he twists the lock. the door swings open and billy is halfway to grabbing the book he needs when something falls out. a scrap of paper. no bigger than the palm of his hand. a note.
it lands on billy’s boot.
he looks around. wonders who had felt brave enough- dumb enough to shove a note through billy’s locker on a day like today. he bends down. picks it up. reads the words in front of him.
quarry, 9.
there’s a little heart scribbled on the top right hand corner. billy traces the familiar writing with a thumb. feels that all too familiar feeling in his chest. he clenches his fist. hears the crinkle of paper as he does.
then he looks up again. into his locker. really looks, this time.
a pack of marlboro reds lay on top of his books. unopened. new.
next to those, something smaller. candy, billy realises. a sweetheart, specifically. the words kiss me etched in pink.
billy smiles. can’t help it, really. it’s restrained. barely there. just a small twitch of his lips but a smile nonetheless. his first smile of the day. credit to steve fuckin’ harrington and his inability to leave well alone.
billy smooths the note out. places it next to the reds. next to the heart. tries to tamp down on the butterflies swarming in his chest. he takes a deep breath before stuffing the cigarettes and note into his pocket.
his hand hovers over the sweetheart.
“hey.”
billy pulls his hand back. fast. as if he’d been burned. he looks to his left. locks eyes with the boy now standing next to him. feels his heart stutter. “hey.”
steve gives him a knowing smile. “good day?”
“no.” billy frowns. you already knew that. “pretty shitty actually.”
steve leans. folds his arms. “that bad, huh?”
better now that you’re here. billy swallows. turns away from steve. back to his locker. “did you want something, harrington?”
“nah, just..” steve smirks. reaches out. billy feels his breath hitch. steve’s smile gets wider. he flicks billy’s earring. once. before turning on his heel with a see you around thrown billy’s way.
a promise. something deeper to them but. casual. friendly to anyone watching.
billy watches him leave. wonders if steve might be okay with them having to do things differently. wonders if this might be enough for steve. for them. wonders if he could be enough for steve. hopes-
billy jumps when the bell rings.
-
they meet up later. at the quarry like steve had said. neil under the assumption that billy’s seeing some girl. steve’s parents likely thinking the same.
billy feels as though a weight has been lifted as soon him and steve tumble into the back of the beemer. all cold hands and fumbling with belts. awkward limbs and steamed up windows. and billy lets it happen. lets himself be held. lets steve be sweet to him.
billy lets it happen. finds himself thinking that today might not be all bad. and that he might be more than a little bit in love with steve harrington. he pushes the second thought down. focuses on winding a hand into steve’s hair and sucking a mark into the soft skin just below his jaw, instead.
not all bad.
-
later finds them huddled under a blanket in the back of steve's beemer. sharing a cigarette. marlboro. red. steve nudges billy after a few minutes. doesn't say anything just. nudges him. billy tilts his head to the side. gives steve a look. steve just looks down as his hand finds billy's under the blanket.
then he presses something small into the palm of billy’s hand.
billy raises an eyebrow in question but steve’s already looking away. staring out into the night. cigarette glowing in the dark. billy rolls his eyes. wiggles his arm free and holds the object up to the window to get a better look.
be mine.
he laughs. loudly. tries to hide the racing of his heart. calls steve a fuckin' cheese. and a sweetheart. waits until steve turns to face him again before pressing the candy to steve's lips and pulling him in to exchange kisses that are almost too soft. too sweet for whatever this is. whatever they agreed for this to be.
steve pulls back first. whispers against billy’s lips “hey, baby?”
“yeah?”
“happy valentine’s day.”
“…yeah.”
almost.
steve grins and reaches out to play with one of billy’s curls. billy laces their fingers together under the blanket.
or maybe it’s just right.
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I love the comic book writing sensibility that Frequency has, like how Three and Five's ending is great for the story being told but if it were a published comic it would still leave them on the table for if a future writer wanted to use them.
whats funny is that despite doing my best to keep in line with dc comics/comic writing sensibilities throughout the fic (staying as comics-accurate as possible in terms of continuity/tone/characterization/story elements etc) that particular comic writing reality was one that was like. kind of a genuine anxiety that i didn't know i had until i started writing this thing.
ive said before that in the original concept for Frequency all of the clones (besides Thad) were going to end up dead. whether it was via killing each other or unintentionally being the instrument of their own demise (disney villain style). obviously it changed because creating an entire narrative about this one character's redemption arc and then not allowing any of the other villains to have a shot at redemption felt hypocritical and like. mean. not to mention antithetical to the whole ethos of the story.
but the reason why killing off all the other clones was my first instinct is partially because i had this kinda subconscious recoil to the idea that any of them would actually continue on after the story was over.
like, because i was trying to stick to canon so much, while figuring out the story a thought came up a couple times that basically went like, "okay, well, if this was a real comic, then...". and inevitably i had a realization that if this WAS a real comic, my original clone characters would be canonized, and therefore available to any future writer who wanted to yank them out of their respective endgames and inject them into other stories. which i Did Not Like the Idea Of.
classic "making up a guy to get mad at" except it was more "making up a reality to get anxious about". because obviously no matter how much it sticks to canon, Frequency still exists in a fan-created space.
but! i'd never made up original characters to put in my own fanmade stuff before and was definitely feeling protective. because all those original clones i made had yknow: a story purpose and narrative function to facilitate the actual key characters, Thad and Bart. the idea of them being removed from that context in any capacity, even if it was in the hands of a good writer, made me have this gut "no STOP you're ruining it!!!!" reaction.
they were all made for Frequency, and to foil Thad as a character, i didnt like the idea of Three being brought back as a one-note villain or Jude and Nathaniel getting folded into the wider Flash cast of allies. and none of them were made to be main character material. plus the character roster at DC is already uhh Extremely Stacked i genuinely did not want the takeaway to be "and here's the nEW ADDITIONS TO THE FLASH FAMILY!" because that wasnt the intention
anyway i got over it lol. i still did my best not to leave any loose ends, and have each ending be wholly satisfying on its own, and ideally the oc clones basically continue on offscreen while the true adventures are based around Thad and Bart. but yeah it felt right to leave off on that note (and served the story much better than killing everybody off)
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Being reminded once again that a lot of people have fucking sleeper cell agent triggers that make them instantly fail to see the human being in front of them, regardless of any personal history they have or any rapport. instantly, that person is an Enemy that cannot be reasoned with. Permanent fight or flight.
And that instead of this being seen as, you know, a rather maladaptive attitude to bring to your relationships that will permanently strip you of the capacity to experience full love and companionship, there is a dominant strain of thinking that this is a reasonable, righteous, moral good.
That a "boundary" looks like building an impenetrable wall that nobody can see but you; That conversation, negotiation, and collaboration aren't just avoided--They're treated with contempt. The very notion of trying to understand why another human being that you care about may suddenly act in an unpleasant or even monstrous way is spat upon and trampled underfoot. Complete abandonment is considered a first line of defense rather than a last resort.
I think we all need to do our best to get over this kind of thinking. And I don't mean that we should be push-overs; In actuality, moving away from this kind of rigid "boundary" often means advocating for yourself and fighting for what you think is right. I think we all deserve friends and allies who can compassionately challenge us when we adopt ways of thinking and behaving that hurt others without immediately assuming the worst.
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thinking abt how the masters life revolves around the doctor and how the doctors life revolves around their companions and how the root of these obsessions (other than like love and affection and whatever) is probably just bc it must be so boring to be a time lord
like ok. as a time lord (and specifically as the doctor or the master) you’re generally the smartest person in every room, however, you know the flow of time very intimately so you can’t meaningfully invent anything, you can’t participate in the contribution to society because you can’t advance them past how they’re supposed to be advanced, and you rarely have peers who can challenge you and who you can challenge in return without becoming some kind of all-knowing mentor figure.
like, yeah, if the master created a deep and enriching life for themselves outside of their relationship with the doctor they would probably grow into a much happier and well-balanced individual, but like. How are they supposed to do that? they can’t go back to gallifrey (bc at any given point in time its either destroyed or they just don’t “fit in” there) to be around other time lords. they don’t care or empathize with people the way the doctor does so the challenge of “saving people” doesn’t interest them. and we’ve established that they can’t just join up with a group of scientists and inventors somewhere for the sake of timelines or whatever. so what does that leave? ummm attempts at world/galactic/universal domination i guess. obsession over the singular other being that is just as intelligent and disconnected as you are i guess. bc everything else is too easy or too boring and that’s without even considering any of the masters predisposition for violence/chaos/supremacy/etc.
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fun fact of the morning is that to me Tarre Vizsla was a cringefail jedi twink so horribly bad at jedi-ing that he did an accidental 180 and became Mand'alor
man's could not find a lightsaber crystal for his goddamn life, so much so that a mandalorian deity had to come and help out
then he crashed in someones backyard destroying half their tuber harvest when he took a wrong turn after going home from a bandomeer agricorps summit
the shame is too big so he ditches everything and becomes a weaver for a like year
only after that year does he even realize he landed himself in karking mandalorian space (the weaver he holes up at is an old lady and doesn't wear armor so he just never noticed)
meanwhile everyone back at the temple just assumed he died
over his year as weaver-apprenticing he also did odd little jobs here and there around the village. mostly helping people with paperwork and taxes and how to price grain to sell the next city over
which gets him implicitly elected like mayor of that village (mostly because no one else wants to do the paperwork)
which is how he, a failed jedi that crashed in someones backyard and just wallowed in shame ever since somehow is made to attend a city/region council as representative of that village (it is there that he realizes that wtf that's too many mandalorians for this to just be coincidence. those CANNOT all be bodyguards) (yes he had stereotypes)
still, apparently he is one of them now
(he is standing there like 🧍🏻 the only one in the room without any armor to speak)
but also definitely the only one with a single political bone in him (it was forcibly installed in him by the temple's teachers). and also the knowledge of How To Do Taxes (that and he weaves a mean rug)
which once again gets him elected representative of that council as well
so now he has to go to a House meeting in a month
(which is bad, he has a deadline on a new tapestry that needs to be done by then can't they just postpone? also what is a House and why do they have meetings)
the lady weaver who kinda just is his adoptive mom now just laughs and pats him on the head and tells him he'll figure it out. but oh maybe he should wear some armor for that one, House meetings have a tendency to get wild and many things are settled over honor duels. and the city/region he's representing sure would like for their needs to be defended.
meanwhile Tarre is panicking because the one thing he was worse at at Jedi School than actually being a jedi was lightsabering
he's decent at hand-to-hand but that was NOT worth any points in the eyes of the Battlemaster
(turns out he shouldn't have worried. 'decent at hand-to-hand' for an old republic jedi still meant 'kriffing lethal' in comparison to everyone else.)
his region's demands have never been represented better
especially since he also does know the maths to make it work in the long run.
that gets him noticed by the like son or heir or whatever of the Head of the House, who promptly makes Tarre his right hand (Tarre agreed to it either while drunk -- he is a sad drunk and JEdi aRE SupPOseD To hELP aaaaaaaa -- and was guilttripped into it OR he misunderstood the assignment to be a weaving commission)
(because, in Tarre's mind, that IS still his day job)
and so on and so forth it spirals out of control farther and farther until one day he is there helping represent the mandalorian side in a trade dispute with the republic and the other side have jedi with them (ofc) and he is one again just doing his best statue impression trying not to be noticed only he forgot that mandalorians announce themselves and their whole allegiance and lineage in front of everyone so he gets first-name-last-named by his new boss in front of his old boss and it does horrors to his nerves that much is certain
only the jedi just kinda squint and then leave it uncommented so he thinks he's safe until HIS OLD MASTER JUST TELEPORTS STRAIGHT INTO THE DINNER ROOM DEMANDING TO KNOW WHY HE WASN'T THERE FOR THE LAST TWELVE LINEAGE DINNERS
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