Sarah runs her fingertips up and down Elsa’s body, feeling her, learning her, loving her. It’s easy to touch her after they’ve fooled around, and Elsa is so pliant and soft in these moments. 

“Why are you scared of loving?” Sarah asks.

She knows Elsa used to be a believer, but fell out of the faith some two or three years ago. Sometimes she searches through her memories for Elsa’s prayers, just to feel them again in their thorough devotion. 

“What do you mean?”

“Your lack of faith.”

Elsa huffs and scoots closer, wedging one of her legs between Sarah’s. “You really wanna talk about this now?”

“When else?”

it doesn’t have a name bc idk what I’d call it (and also I’ll probably never write it) but I was thinking about Elsa dealing w internalised homophobia and comphet (this is definitely not me projecting haha) and yeah this is what came from it !!

For sure, it’s the friendships that I have gathered the past year, starting with WTFock and now SKAM France. I also got my Deaf/hard of hearing rep on TV, and it helps to spread awerness to people on how hard it is to be deaf/hard of hearing. To see in some way on how a person can easily deny you access just beacuse you don’t have a perfect hearing like they do. But at the same time, watching FSL is so beautiful because it’s so similiar but so different to ASL here in America. It was awesome. 

I tag:

“I like this one.”

Elsa nudges the fat pumpkin with the toe of her boot, happy at the slight hollow thud it makes when her boot connects with the bright rind. The thing must weigh some thirty or fourty pounds, but something about it just seems right. It’s wider than her. She turns pleading eyes to Sarah and gestures to the pumpkin.

“Please?”

“If you can carry it, sure,” Sarah teases, though they both know she will help Elsa lift it into the wheelbarrow to carry to the checkout station. 

Excited, Elsa claps her hands and grabs the bottom, lifting with all her might while Sarah takes the other side. Damn, it’s heavy. But between the two of them and a sweat broken in the autumn heat, they manage to get it into the rusty red wheelbarrow and leverage it up off the ground to steer. 

“This thing is impossible,” she whines, pushing it with a great effort through the patch. 

“You chose the pumpkin.”

“You’re bullying me.”

Letters!AU //

Dear Dr. Reese,

My name is Elsa Curry, a medical student pursuing my second doctorate in Chicago, and I have taken an interest in your case study of Ava Bekker. Other psychiatrists, including Dr. Crockett Marcel, have raised questions of the ethics of your study, and of his own. I wonder how many more innocent people have to die before he realizes that Bekker is not stable enough for traditional study.

This is besides the point. 

Attached is my CV and the paper I wrote for my thesis on the abnormal psyche of Will Halstead, and I believe that studying Ava Bekker would be valuable for my education. Furthermore, I believe I could be of assistance. You see, Dr. Reese, I was the only one able to get any decent information out of Halstead in finding the remains of his victims because killers tend to underestimate my strength, physically and emotionally. They also think themselves smarter than I am, and slip up when they speak to me. 

Together, perhaps we could unlock more about Ava Bekker’s personality and truly understand why she snapped the way that she did. 

I look forward to hearing from you. 

Together

They know what they look like ahead of time, of course. They’ve exchanged photos like crazy, just as commonplace as their texts and calls. But still, Elsa is nervous Sarah won’t recognize her, or even think she’s ugly enough in person to simply leave behind rather than meet (even if she knows Sarah isn’t like that). What started as an outreach to find out how to cope with Dr. Charles is now so much more. 

She sees Sarah first, stepping off the Greyhound and holding her backpack straps with a familiar nervousness. Elsa does that too. She calls Sarah’s name, perhaps too loud, and is rewarded with an absolutely stunning smile that lights up the whole world. God, she’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful. She’s the most stunning woman to ever walk the earth, and suddenly her arms are wrapped around Elsa in the world’s safest embrace.

“I hope this is okay,” she says, her lips moving against Elsa’s temple. “I just really needed to hug you.”

Elsa nods and loses herself in the hug. It’s so warm. So safe. So perfect. She never could have imagined before that someone as beautiful and lovely as Sarah would ever want her, but here they are at the bus station, with Elsa going up on her toes to reach for a kiss, one freely given and tasting of those red hot candies she eats by the bucketfull. She must have been snacking on them on the ride. In truth, Elsa doesn’t mind the taste, not with everything else this moment brings.

“This is literally a dream come true.”

Sarah’s laugh is the sun that brings the dawn, the moon that washes over the city streets, the stars that children wish upon. She is everything. Elsa kisses her again, and again and again, until her lips are tingling and she has no choice but to feel so completely and irrevocably in love that she’s drowning in it.