#Claudia is an inspiration to go to college

[yellow-dejavu]

Egon and Doris made the best decision ever by saving money for Claudia's university. Thank you Egon and Doris for seeing your daughter's potential.

Their failed marriage didn't matter; these two made it possible for Claudia to break an impossible knot, to fool 2 high school dropouts who became cult leaders, and to erase from existence a cursed family tree.

[kittythelitter]

Hold Me Like You'll Never Let Me Go

Steddie snippet, angst, CW: self-loathing, CW: negative self talk. Steve POV, post season 4 - everyone lives.

Inspired by John Denver's "Leaving on a Jet Plane" but as performed by one of my favorite camp counselors every year on the last day of camp when I was in elementary and middle school.

Steve would like to think, had he not gotten that voicemail from his mother, that he would've been brave and finally told Eddie how he felt. He had been working up to it, and then. 

Steve had known for a while that he was the kind of definition of the kind of loser with no future who peaked in highschool, but that hadn't mattered so much when he was trying to make sure his kids survived to graduate highschool. His SAT scores didn't matter when it came to dealing with the end of the world. 

But then the world didn't end. Hawkins was in shambles, and his kids were going to survive wherever they each went to highschool, because the upsidedown was gone. But they wouldn't be attending Hawkins High, because it was just a pile of rubble, and all their families were moving far far away. 

What was his purpose, exactly, with his kids scattered and the world saved? 

He could trail after Nancy and Robin to Boston, like the loser he was, clinging to their coattails and dragging them down. He could follow the Hoppers'-Beyers to upstate New York. Follow the Henderson's to wherever Claudia found work. 

His plan, at least until the voicemail, was to stay in the government accomodations in Indianapolis with the Munsons. He and Eddie could, hopefully together, build a life post-apocalypse, find work, maybe move into an apartment together in the same building as Wayne. Maybe they could save up and move out to Boston to be near the girls, or New York or wherever the rest of the kids ended up. But they could build a life together. 

And then. 

---

When Steve's mom offered him a well paying job, a career, doing work he could probably be proud of while going to some fancy night school with the only catch being living with and looking after her aging parents in London, it was an opportunity he couldn't justify turning down. He wouldn't be a loser trailing after his smarter, more successful, wonderful friends. He'd build his own life and then could be someone Henderson and Robin wouldn't be embarrassed to introduce to their cool friends at college. 

His first instinct was to bring Eddie with him, but he knew that Eddie couldn't bear to be an ocean away from Wayne. He also got the impression that the music scene over there was more Jonathan's speed than Eddie's. Plus when he went over there to tell Eddie, Eddie was raving about some band that he'd auditioned for, so he just. Didn't mention his own stuff. And he just. Kept not bringing it up. Which brought him to the morning he was leaving. 

He didn't have much stuff after the sinkhole ate Loch Nora, but what he did have was all packed up and ready to go to London. 

 They tended to hang out at Eddie and Wayne's apartment anyway so it's not like the Munsons would've noticed him packing. 

---

All packed up. All ready to leave. He just. Hadn't told anyone yet. No one but him and the Munsons were still in Indiana, but they kept in close contact anyway. And he hadn't told them.  He stood outside the Munsons' door turning over and over in his head what he was going to say before he had to call the cab to get to the airport. 

It was 10am, so Wayne would be awake but Eddie might not be. How shitty would it be to wake him up just to tell him he was leaving. 

Steve let himself, for just a minute, imagine Eddie kissing him goodbye and promising to see him soon. Imagining Eddie wrapping his surprisingly strong arms around him and holding him here in the States. In Indiana. In Eddie's apartment forever. Like Eddie's arms could keep him from making what might be a huge mistake. Like Eddie could hold on tight enough to come with him. 

But Eddie was building a life here in Indianapolis, and Steve wasn't. Steve had to go. Had to become someone better. Someone who could maybe someday be worthy of the person he could see Eddie becoming. 

Maybe he should just go. Write a letter or call once he was far enough away that Eddie's big beautiful Bambi eyes couldn't change his mind. 

The opportunity to run away was taken, however, when the door swung open. 

"Stevie?" Eddie grinned at him. "I didn't know you were coming by this morning! I'm actually on my way to rehearsal with Last in Initiative! But! I can grab coffee with you on the way if you'd want to?" 

"Oh I don't want to keep you from rolling to initiate or whatever it is you guys do, but I wanted to let you know that I'm going to London to see my grandparents. I wanted to say goodbye before I left." 

Steve knew he was making it sound temporary, but looking into Eddie's beautiful eyes he couldn't bring himself to tell him that he was really leaving. God he was just like his dad. Popping off to Europe without having a return flight planned and not telling Eddie how long he'd be gone. 

Something flitted across Eddie's face too quickly for Steve to parse. 

"Well. Far be it from me to deprive the elderly of your presence, but don't forget me while you're gone, I don't want to be deprived either." Eddie darted in for a hug. Steve begged whatever forces were still out there to let it last forever. But it didn't. Eddie saw his watch, swore and bolted, leaving Steve to consider the Munsons' door once again. Trying to work up the nerve to talk to Wayne. And give him the truth at the very least.

[atropalugosi]

Honestly ghouls, this one is just completely self indulgent trying to make myself feel better. But enjoy nonetheless Donna stans <3

Donna felt almost like a wolf stalking a small animal as she watched Valeria work, but she simply couldn't help herself. Well, surely she could, but it was more fun to look at the college student, especially at the moment. The flower shop was on the warmer side today, and the girl had opted to rolling up the sleeves of her blouse in an attempt to cool off, giving Donna a lovely glimpse of black ink on her right arm. She couldn't quite make out what the image was across the shop, but it looked intricate despite the heavy lines of the tattoo.

"Do you have any?" Valeria's voice cuts through the silence like a knife, startling Donna with a little jump. The girl fights a smile at catching her boss off guard before continuing, "tattoos I mean?"

"I'm afraid not," the botanist replies, patting herself down a bit to regain composure. "Do you have any more?"

"Nope, just this at the moment," she outstretches her forearm for Donna to get a better look. "I'd like to get some more eventually though! I've got a bunch of ideas, I've even drawn some out if you'd wanna see sometime. Thinking about maybe getting a floral piece done for you...'re shop!"

Donna steps closer and gently takes her arm, inspecting the black and grey design. It takes up Valeria's entire inner forearm, running from just below the prominent blue veins of her wrist up to her inner elbow. The entire image is bordered by ferns and inside the foliage stands a woman gently holding a roaring lion. Two sabers cross above the characters with 'VIII' scratched slightly to the right of the swords. She runs her fingers featherlight over the tattoo, surprised when it feels more or less like her unmarred skin, save for a few bumpy scars.

"I, uh, I picked at those spots," Valeria murmurs as though she'd been scolded particularly harshly. Donna noticed the redhead often picked at scabs and blemishes when her hands weren't preoccupied.

"That's alright, scars are a beautiful map of a person's life." That earns her a cute blush and sheepish smile. "It's truly a lovely piece though, really. Does it have any special meaning?"

Valeria's smile drops a bit at the question, but she speaks clearly. "It's a tarot card called 'Strength'. I've had... kind of a rough go of things before moving here and I guess I just got it as a reminder that I'm going to be okay and I'm strong. Even when I don't feel like it." She turns away slightly, looking like she's trying not to cry at whatever memories the design inspires.

Donna's heart aches seeing her like this and she bravely makes the decision to wrap the redhead in a strong hug. Her efforts are reciprocated instantly, and she nearly breaks feeling the girl tremble in her arms. Valeria was indeed an example of La Forza all her own, but Donna couldn't help but want to be an equally strong support for her, like she'd done for the botanist on the anniversary of Claudia's death. Nobody deserved to feel that way alone. Not even herself, she supposed.

"I've got you, dolcézza. Whatever you need, let it out," she tells Valeria soothingly. She rubs relaxing circles in her back while the girl cries, whispering words of encouragement until she finally calms down. Eventually the two part, Valeria sniffling pitifully and rubbing her eyes of tears.

"I'm sorry for that," she croaks miserably.

"No need, Valeria," Donna's tone leaves no room for argument. "Whatever it is that you've gone through; whatever you might be faced with in the future, you are strong, and you will beat it. But you don't have to do it alone. Let me be there for you like you are for me."

Enamoured. Valeria looks completely and utterly enamoured, and Donna fights tooth and nail with herself not to squirm at the watery brown eyes staring at her like a saint. God knows she was far from it. Still it makes her feel infinitely further from Miranda to be looked at like that.

"Thank you, Donna."

[weather-mood]

Sorting my fics into categories for fun 🥰

Key: Collabs 🫂 Personal favourites 💕 and wips ✍️

Canon Setting

Rue Royale Era

🫂💕 Pirouette (with @nlbv): Lily and Lestat during that night at the FairPlay.

💕seven new ways that you can eat your young: the seven times Claudia’s blood is drunk by her parents.

Lead and Mercury (multichapter): Louis, Lestat, and Claudia’s point of views as they get ready for Mardi Gras.

Reliquary: what happened to the cane knife?

and put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite: Lestat ruminates in the dumpster.

🫂💕 House (group collab): haunted house inspired click-through Rue Royale.

Interlude Era

Train Tracks: 90s interlude.

Burial Rite: Louis decides to go down into the earth. (Companion piece After Burial by @iwtvdramacd18)

Dubai Era

Easement: Louis and Armand’s first week in the penthouse.

💕Rumpelstiltskin: loumand, the mind gift, and the tower.

The Princess and the Pea: a little roleplay.

Glass Coffins and Golden Roses: practices in meditation by the way of bondage.

Instruction: Rashid fills in for Armand.

Optometry: Armand watches Rashid before Daniel arrives.

Tower: Louis dreaming in Dubai.

A Little Coffin Chit-Chat: Fareed and Seth interlude after Fareed treats Daniel.

Opheiletes: a quiet moment after the interview ends in episode seven.

Canon Divergence

✍️ Is this too much (series): Louis says no to Lestat in the church.

Charlie: Charlie is still alive when Claudia brings him home.

Ostentatio Vulnerum: Louis gets into the car in episode six.

✍️ Anamnesis (multichapter): Claudia in a time loop on the night of Mardi Gras.

💕 mental topology experiments to the tune of bubblegum bitch (series): post season-one in Dubai, featuring dreamscapes, loumand weirdness, indulgent star trek references, and Daniel refusing to remember his past.

AUs

✍️💕Once Upon a Wine-Dark Sea (series): Fairytale fantasy horror series inspired by The Little Mermaid.

✍️💕🫂 teachers’ pet (with @devotiondroid, series): Human AU- university setting with College Student Louis and Professors Armand and Daniel.

✍️ Juniper (multichapter): Claudia-focused fairytale horror au of ‘The Juniper Tree.’

Equity: Findom AU with human writer Louis and The Vampire Armand.

Enamel: Human AU. Armand takes care of Louis after he gets his wisdom teeth out.

Other/Wider World

Needle & Thread and Sounding Point: Following in the footsteps of the visionary To Pluck Gently At Strings by @iwtvdramacd18, Armand and Nicki in Paris.

The Seer and the Witch (series): Modern-day envisioning of Merrick Mayfair and Jesse Reeves in AMC-verse.

✍️Made myself mythical, tried to be real (multichapter): Set post season two, experimental fic of Claudia’s ghost reforming.

[thestarlightforge]

My first two stuffed animals were bears, sewn together—a big one and a small one. Probably meant to be Mama and Baby Bear.

In one of my first acts of rebellion in life, I cut them apart. They still snuggled every night, but that baby bear needed room to become his own person, okay? (Also, it’s not a Mama and Baby Bear, no—it’s Papa Bear and Curly Bear, because Curly Bear is a young man deserving of independence and men can be loving, emotionally present parents, too.)

Next, naturally, I sewed Curly Bear Christmas pajamas and found him a Go Diego Go! safari jacket—befitting his Indiana Jones-style adventures. And in a barber shop game, I cut Papa Bear’s fur short; he wanted to try a new look, a close shave. The shave was a little ~too close~ lol and he nicked his face, but it gives him character. Grizzle, you might say. (NB: I did this in elementary school; got him as an infant. So I don’t actually remember what his fur used to be like.)

Throughout my childhood, Papa and Curly Bear (Bear being both a last and nickname) were the stars of many a stuffed animal-themed imagination game. Papa Bear was the ruler of my “Kingdom”—a black cat stuffed animal named Claudia (after our childhood cat) the Queen of my sister’s stuffed domain—and Curly was his adventurous son and an apprentice in Queen Claudia’s security force, run by my sister’s super nice Bowser plushie.

Curly was reckless, a real Han Solo type—everything I wanted to be.

When I went to college, I thought about leaving a lot of stuffed animals behind—but never them. (I am 23, Toy Story is a lie.) Papa Bear’s eye got cracked in one of my many moves to and from school, and it has been many years since we played a proper “game” (of this sort) together. But it’s no wonder I’m in theatre now, and when I look at them, I appreciate where I came from and the fiery person I’ve always been, and I still draw inspiration and comfort from them both.

A pic from today, 1/18/23.

😊🧸🕵️

How many people’s most beloved childhood stuffed animals are actually teddy bears, like I feel like that’s a thing someone made up. Reblog this and put what your longest owned and/or favorite stuffed animal as a child was in the tags, inquiring minds want to know

[soufsidesiren]

blog entry 1.

hello. hi. honestly, it feels strange to think about sharing my thoughts or rather my words on the internet, but i am getting over that hump so here we are. blog article one. front porch projects start here. 10.10.23. you know honestly it's not even the writing part that’s got me tripping out. i’ve been writing for as long as i remember and it has been a natural way for me to process the things going on in my life. so why a blog? honestly, i don’t know…do people even still read these things? who cares. if you’re reading this, honestly that’s dope as fuck of you because so far this entry has been a clusterfuck of nothingness and nervous rambling, but i swear this will probably get interesting at some point. that’s usually how these things go. 

so you like to write. want to take yourself more seriously… and you start a blog? yeah honestly that’s the whole story. i also honestly like the idea of having a digital space to hold all of my little anecdotes because as fun as journals can be… i am running out of shelf space. also, i stayed up tonight binging the new remake of interview with a vampire and was hella inspired by claudia’s journaling. life has been moving simultaneously so very slowly and so quickly around me. i think about where i was last year and all of the transformation i have experienced through my twenty-fifth year and honestly, i am in awe. (also let's just take a pause to say how satisfying it is to rip across the keyboard again just pouring out thoughts for old time sake. as a procrastinator in remission i am reminded of the days of churring out 4-6 page research papers WITH an annotated bibliography in 2-3 hrs flat in college… no proofreads, no edits, just vibes, and an impending deadline. shoutout to my professors for weathering through everything i put together through college. honestly, i think my fear of failure never truly allowed me to fully commit myself to my assignments. the idea that if i truly tried my hardest and failed terrified me so i always tried just enough or waited to the last minute so that when i inevitably succeeded or failed i could chalk it up to my natural ability or me just not trying…what a terribly sad way to live) now i fail frequently. honestly, failure and loss have become my new normal, but instead of taking each failure as a this horrifying assault on who i am. i have learned the art of acceptance and redirection. ceramics has helped a lot with that. it’s like kind of my thing now. i start my first paid ceramic job next week at this brand new studio and i will be teaching come november, which is honestly a really wild turn of events all things considered, but its also what i wanted so desperately for so long the fact that this dream is coming to fruition is really so satisfying. i weathered through all of the frustrations and feelings of failure through winter, spring, and summer and the fall harvest is finally here for me to relish in as we all nestle in as the year cools and the days shorten. 

welp, i’ve got a nanny gig i need to be up bright and early for tomorrow, and it’s currently 2:22 am so i am going to end this entry here. until tomorrow.

[mizufae]

Different hooks for the sundry stranger things fics I want to write but probably never will unless I find a partner in crime because apparently writing is a fully collaborative activity for me:

Speculative season five action adventure wherein Hopper has brought that big sword back from Russia and Mike steals it and fucking tromps around slicing monsters in half like a real life paladin and Will faints because it’s 2 hot 2 handle but then a second later Mike trips over nothing at all and they both end up on the ground embarrassed

Meandering post-climax ponderings on hair symbolism that starts with Mike realizing Eddie is truly dead and chopping off his hair in a dramatic fit of teen mourning, eleven and hop growing their hair back together, will also chopping off his hair in sibling solidarity and it transforming from Mike’s grief to the three of them processing their traumas together via hair growth, Steve tutting at everyone as they all complain while it grows back through awkward stages, and Robin going through a very long manic panic phase. (Would need to do historical hair dye research)

The Sinclair parents being the only competent married people in town, helping out Max’s mom, who doesn’t want to accept because she is kinda racist, scenes about blackness and class status in a small town and the intersectionality of stigma

A whole thing where Karen Wheeler sends Ted off with Holly out of town asap and thinks she is going to go confront wtf is going on only she gets trapped or otherwise goes missing and Nancy and Mike think she is dead and fucking go off to rescue their mom and have sibling power duo scenes and they have fun bickering chemistry and rescue their mom who is alive and doing okay all things considered. Meanwhile Ted is like, inventing the internet so he can ask yahoo how to legally divest himself of a small child

A Labyrinth inspired plot wherein Holly gets kidnapped by Vecna and Mike has to embark on a scary journey to get her back and on the way discovers he is so super gay, at some point Henry shows up in tight pants

Dustin and Steve convince Joyce and Hop to read Claudia into all the secrets so they all pick their way over to Dustin’s house to find Claudia with a rifle and dozens of knives and also a meatloaf in the oven and she is like “Do you honestly think I don’t listen in on every walkie talkie conversation you boys have ever had???” because Dustin has to get his brains from somewhere

A Barb Lives AU where she gets away from the upsidedown pool in the nick of time and defends baby Will in season 1, who she knows because they are both constantly at the Wheeler’s house. And after they are both rescued they process their trauma together and Jonathan is like “how DARE you take my spot as older sibling” and Barb is like, “why don’t we kiss about it”

Joyce and Nancy 80s makeover montage

The party all go see Star Trek: The Voyage Home in theaters (1986) and they endure a friendship cataclysm as nobody can agree if it was amazing or if it sucked immensely

Steve and Eleven attending college together in their early thirties / late twenties to study childhood psychology

[sofipitch]

Im curious for the show in how theyll take inspiration from source material here. Like I think I will enjoy it knowing its not meant to be an exact adaption- though Im curious how they will handle Claudia with the actress being a grown person (or really all of them being aged up) Or Louis with his arcs of guilt and repression- when this time he starts owning a bunch of brothels and maybe has a past male lover? Im curious tho optimistic

I'm kind of confused bc this ask isn't a question? I can also only answer these to the best of my knowledge bc I'm not one of the show runners, I'm just some guy 😂

But if you are asking why I support the show and it's changes I'll say that I personally hated being a teenager and in this version Claudia will be 13. I think that is plenty young enough to feel stuck in one's body, which is Claudia's main issue. The show runners have said child labor laws were a reason they cast someone who was legally an adult but I think Durst was the only possible youngest Claudia. She was 12 and already an accomplished actress when she took the role, I read that Neil Jordan wanted a trained child actor since it's such a hard role for a kid to play an adult. The behind the scenes in my dvd copy Durnst even says at the time she didn't really understand what her character Claudia was going through, looking back as an adult made it make sense, so I'm guessing she probably had good stage direction for Jordan or other crew. So at the end of the day, I think to have someone reasonably play a character who is mentally an adult they needed to cast someone older. We haven't gotten a lot of images of Claudia but it looks like from the 2 we have she is still a "child".

I also kind of feel like comments that Bailey Bass is too old are rooted in racist stereotypes. Black girls get seen as "older" and "sexual" much sooner than white girls. Some of what I have seen ppl say about Bailey Bass has really disgusted me. I don't think you should be commenting on this girl's body parts, even if she is "legally an adult". She is still leagues younger than the ppl I see commenting on her body.

For the other characters I also prefer for them to be older. Lestat not having a fully formed prefrontal cortex might explain a lot of his bullshit but I also agree with others in saying that AR consistently saying the most attractive men alive are 21 (and later 20 and then 19) and her harping on how attractive Armand is (who looks 17) sounds more like a fetish than realistic. It's an old post by a friend, now @hedonisticgene but it was his old blog I think, said "Have you ever met the college kid who thinks he's a sex god? That's Lestat". So I do think making the characters older will make them seem attractive and charming and also have ppl not inquire too much about their lives be realistic.

As for the brothel it has the potential to be as morally repugnant as Louis having been a slave owner. I think fanon and late canon woobifies Louis so much that his general weak moral backbone is often ignored. Remember in the book IWTV Louis does not object to kill humans "bc it's wrong morally" but bc he thought it was an aesthetic experience he should work his way up to. He also describes his slaves in some awful ways, so I don't really think brothel owner is out of the question. And when it comes to Louis's repressed sexuality, well wouldn't it be the best cover, if you are gay and don't want others to know, to own a brothel. I am aware some ppl read Louis as bi while others (myself included) see him as gay. I also read IWTV as the interpretation that Louis's struggle to come to terms with vampirism is his struggle to come to terms with his sexuality. And Louis doesn't shy from telling us he went to whorehouses or that he maybe had feelings for Babette. What he shies away from is admitting his feelings for Lestat. So I think Louis being repressed has more to do with internalized homophobia than sex in general. So I feel like surrounding yourself with a whole bunch of hot women would be the best way to be "I'm totally straight! Look how straight I am!" 😂

I have my reservations about the show like any fan. These books (well the first three) mean so much to be I'll be devastated if this show sucks. But honestly for me it's not in these kind of small details, to me what matters is the character dynamic. That's what I love, and as long as this show scratches my brain the same way the books do I'll be happy.

[justforbooks]

Anne Rice, who has died aged 80 after a stroke, was one of the foremost writers of supernatural fiction, and the author of more than 30 novels. The best known of them was her debut, Interview With the Vampire, published in 1976, and adapted in 1994 into a film starring Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt and Kirsten Dunst.

Her work became synonymous with deep, romantic portrayals of vampires, witches and revenant mummies and she was one of the first authors to turn the trope of supernatural creatures as monsters to be vanquished on its head, and put them in the role of protagonist, paving the way for later writers such as Stephenie Meyer and her Twilight saga.

Interview With the Vampire introduced Rice’s most enduring character, Lestat de Lioncourt, an 18th-century French nobleman whose story formed the basis of what would become known as The Vampire Chronicles, a series of 13 books, with the most recent, Blood Communion, published in 2018.

To borrow the title of Rice’s third Lestat book (filmed, with Aaliyah in the title role), the writer was indeed the Queen of the Damned, not necessarily turning into heroes the characters who had previously been the villains of horror fiction, but rather giving them a voice, and presenting their stories from the viewpoint of a different morality.

She plumbed the depths of her own grief and terrors to write, saying in a Rolling Stone interview in 1995 that, “I think all my writing has been part of a battle with my fears. When I write I explore my worst fears, and then take my protagonist right into awful situations that I myself am terrified by. And I think that the act of putting all that fear and terror and confusion into an orderly, plotted story has been very therapeutic for me. It definitely helps me to continue through life.”

Rice said that fantasy writing allowed her to talk about her own life whereas writing a “realistic novel” would be too raw. She said, “You can put the most horrible things into a frame, and you can go into that frame safely and talk about those things. You can go into the world of Louis and Lestat and Claudia, and be able to talk about grief or loss or survival, and then come back safely.”

She wrote like a time traveller, layering especially the Lestat novels with astonishingly evocative period detail. And she did not confine herself to vampires. The Mayfair Witches series, beginning with The Witching Hour (1990), set in Rice’s native New Orleans, concerned itself with a trio of occult practitioners and the demon that bedevils them. The two books of the Wolf Gift series are about lycanthropy, while The Mummy (1989) revitalises the classic horror movie staple. A second mummy novel, Ramses the Damned (2017) was written by Rice with her son, Christopher, and a third collaboration– what will be Rice’s last book – is scheduled for 2022.

Born in New Orleans, Rice was the second of five daughters of Kay (nee Allen) and Howard O’Brien. Her father served with the US navy and then for the US postal service, and both parents were of Irish Catholic heritage. She reportedly hated her name, Howard, and changed it to Anne in the first grade at school. Her mother died in 1956, when Anne was 15, from the effects of alcoholism and the family moved into the former home of her maternal grandmother, who had also died with an alcohol problem.

Rice has said that she was inspired to be a writer by her father who, returning from the second world war and realising he barely knew his infant daughters, Anne and her sister, Alice (the novelist Alice Borchardt), wrote a novel, The Impulsive Imp, for them. Anne was educated first at St Joseph’s academy, a private girls’ school in New Orleans, and later at Richardson high school in north Texas, after her father remarried in 1957 and relocated the family.

After completing a year’s higher education at the Texas Women’s University in Denton, and a sophomore year at North Texas State College, Anne dropped out, unable to afford the tuition fees, and moved to San Francisco, where she took night classes and began her nascent writing career.

She had met Stan Rice at Richardson high school and they rekindled their relationship, marrying in 1961. They settled in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, living through the growing hippy counterculture years, though Rice once said she was a “square” who locked herself away to write while everyone around her was “dropping acid and smoking grass”.

Their daughter Michele was born in 1966, and in 1970 was diagnosed with leukaemia – the same year that Rice returned to her studies at San Francisco State University. She graduated with an MA in creative writing in 1972, the year her daughter died. The couple’s second child, Christopher, was born in 1978. Like her mother and grandmother before her, Rice struggled with alcohol and she and her husband made the decision to stop drinking altogether not long after their son was born.

Although she was brought up a Catholic and her books – the Lestat novels especially, as well as two books fictionalising the life of Christ – included strong elements of the Christian mythos, Rice had a complicated relationship with her faith. Not long after her mother died, she disavowed her belief in God, but returned to the Catholic fold in 1998, a decade after going back to New Orleans to live permanently.

However, in 2010 Rice once again renounced Christianity, saying that while she was still a follower of Christ she could not reconcile herself with many of the church’s beliefs – particularly on same-sex marriage, Christopher being a prominent gay rights activist.

Her son said that Rice had always decried fashion and forged her own path. “She always saw herself starkly at odds with whatever the literary trends of the moment were,” he said. “The accomplishment of Interview With the Vampire … was that she had completely flipped the point of view. She had taken what was previously considered to be … the unknowable monster, and she went in to their point of view and she showed us: what does the world look like through the eyes and the heart of the character we have dismissed in these terms?”

Stan died in 2002. Rice is survived by Christopher and by three of her sisters.

🔔 Anne Rice (Howard Allen Frances O’Brien), writer, born 4 October 1941; died 11 December 2021

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[these-are-the-first-steps]

Anne Rice has passed away today.

For anyone who has ever enjoyed a speck of my writing, please understand that this woman had a significant and profound influence on my writing style and how I parse the flow of story– amongst so much else.

From the moment my high school friend (coincidentally, also named 'Annie') slapped "The Vampire Lestat" down in front of me at the lunch room table after I'd been complaining about how I couldn't find anything good to read anymore, I....well, all the puzzle pieces of Writing that had been floating around in my skull since late elementary school suddenly snapped into place. Seeing and experiencing her example, as I then began to avidly follow the entire series and then some, suddenly ordered the clusterfuck of my mine.

The intricacy of her story setups (in her first nine books at least), borderline obsessed me in college. So much so that in the middle of a triptych re-read (her books tend to function in groups of three), I was so overcome with Opinions and Emotions About Said Opinions that I straight up skipped class, went to the computer lab, and typed up a huge email to Anne herself despite her website saying, in bright big bold red letters at the time, that she absolutely would NOT answer any emails/letters about the Vampire Chronicles anymore. Well, I wrote her anyway. And within the next day or two, nearly fell over, hands shaking, as I saw, sitting in my inbox, a reply.

She had written me back, and not just written me back, but a page and a half or so of answers, gentle chiding (I deserved it), and praise- she appreciated my letter so much she invited me to continue my investigation into the story, my philosophizing, my analysis, in a book of my own if I wanted- her blessing granted. I was floored. I was just a (very very) poor college student. I could never spare the time or precious energy for that. But I always carried the idea with me. Like a rain check. An IOU. Because Anne Rice had said I, me, silly dirt poor thing too in love with the story and characters, could do something like that with her encouragement. That to this day I still keep it all in my back pocket with the caveat "One day..." as I go on to write my own silly stories and stretch my literary muscles in this or that way.

Today, Anne has died. I am filled with unspeakable sadness. But this sadness is markedly, I think, different. It's a sadness over seeing that bright spot in the sky slowly dim out as you always knew it would, but while also knowing that it was never unfulfilled. Anne accomplished so much, and through so much pain and suffering that, while making her quite a bit grumpy from time to time (as extraneously irritating things would make any of us in times of distress), resulted in a life so rich, interesting, and perhaps even complete that while her physical presence may now be gone, her spirit surely isn't- that doesn't feel changed in the slightest. Sometimes great artists leave this world and you can feel the void left behind....I don't feel that this time with Anne. It's as if she didn't leave per se, but just transmuted into something a little different. But she's still there– there's no doubting that.

December 12th, 2021. 12-12-21. It's a nicely rounded out date. It looks nice written down on paper. I hope she also approves of it. I figure she's got so much to do now- finally seeing her little daughter, the inspiration for Claudia, again, and also her husband. So much to do! So many questions to finally have answered!! Literally, in heaven. What a shift! What a finish to such a life! Thank you for being here, Anne, and for taking the time out for me, and for all of us. Anne's son Christopher wrote today in his message conveying the news that as Anne's younger sister made her goodbyes, she told her, "What a ride you took us on, kid." Absolutely– exactly, that.

[singingaboutwishingx]

the west wing professor au

i feel like this has been done before, but i can’t find it if it does exist. if this is your au, please know that i did not intentionally copy any ideas because, again, i’m not sure if this really exists.

also before i start, i don’t know how other people’s colleges work, so just in case: a capstone class is a sort of cumulative class for seniors (i’ve also heard it called a senior seminar). it’s usually a very small class size and either discussion-based or research-based. what’s required for the class varies by major.

dr. joshua lyman (ratemyprofessor score: 4.5): chairman of the political science department. also teaches one capstone class per semester. it is the single most sought-after class in the department (which strokes his ego. also, he literally does not have time to teach a second section).

dr. josiah bartlet (ratemyprofessor score: 4.7): the only econ professor anyone likes. his classes fill up very quickly, given that he’s a nobel laureate and all. he’s kind of a hard grader, but he’s very kind and enthusiastic.

dr. claudia jean cregg (ratemyprofessor score: 4.9): teaches communications. she loves her capstone classes because they give her more one-on-one interaction with the students. she’s taught several influential people who cite her as one of their sources of motivation and inspiration.

dr. tobias ziegler (ratemyprofessor score: 3.7): teaches comp. you either hate dr. ziegler or you love him. no in between. praise in the margins of your papers feels like winning the lottery.

dr. samuel seaborn (ratemyprofessor score: 5.0): teaches english and creative writing. if you’re attracted to men, it’s practically a rite of passage to have a crush on him. he’s so sweet and enthusiastic and encouraging that it’s nearly impossible to not.

dr. leopold mcgarry (ratemyprofessor score: 4.5): teaches psychology. fairly universally beloved for his dry jokes and in-depth lectures. he gives a little half-smile easily, but sometimes he smiles with teeth and it’s enough to make everyone want to cry.

professor donnatella moss, m.a. (ratemyprofessor score: 4.9): teaches music theory and choir. sweet, encouraging, knows how to foster talent. don’t disappoint her or make her mad. she’ll break your heart and you’ll never forget it.

professor charles young, j.d. (ratemyprofessor score: 5.0): adjunct professor of civil procedure, also practices human rights law part time. every student loves him to pieces (he’s a genuinely good teacher, but the weekly bonus point opportunities certainly don’t hurt).

dr. abigail bartlet (ratemyprofessor score: 4.2): teaches biology capstone classes and anatomy. a little bit of a hardass, but she really does want students to succeed. even if her classes make you want to die and reconsider your major, you can’t help but love her.

dr. william bailey (ratemyprofessor score: 4.3): teaches astronomy, and his eyes just light up when students ask thoughtful questions. a little bit of a mess, but he’s pretty endearing (and a pretty easy grader–if you get the concept, you get most of your points).

ms. katherine harper (ratemyprofessor score: n/a): head rotc coordinator. has personally visited high schools across the country to speak on her experiences with rotc. when students come to her, she takes them very seriously. has made many a girl wonder if they liked girls (spoiler alert: they usually do).

dr. annabeth schott (ratemyprofessor score: 4.3): adjunct professor, teaches public speaking and advises the student theatre group. makes her students do silly exercises to loosen them up. fairly well-liked. does some media consulting on the side.

dr. amelia gardener (ratemyprofessor score: 4.0): teaches women’s studies. tough as nails, but clearly knowledgeable and passionate about her subject. not very good at answering student emails, so it’s best to go to her office hours.

dr. josephine lucas and mr. kenneth thurman (ratemyprofessor score: 4.3): joey is second chair of the political science department and teaches statistics for political science. she generally uses power points so she can click to the next slide and have both hands free to sign while kenny interprets. students adore both dr. lucas and mr. thurman.

dr. matthew santos (ratemyprofessor score: 5.0): teaches humanities with a specific focus in government and global relations. is just the most enthusiastic, fun guy on campus with so much passion for his subject. includes corny jokes in his power point slides.

professor ainsley hayes, j.d. (ratemyprofessor score: 4.2): teaches constitutional law. loves nothing more than civil debate in class. a tough grader, but leaves lots of constructive feedback. she only wants her students to be better.

professor daniel concannon, m.a. (ratemyprofessor score: 4.4): teaches journalism. enjoys teaching well enough, but takes semesters off at every opportunity to go cover stories worldwide. his assignments seem hard, but he helps the students work through them.

margaret hooper, carol fitzpatrick, ginger webster, and bonnie parikh (ratemyprofessor score: n/a): grad students working as ta’s. margaret teaches psych under leo, carol teaches comms under cj, ginger teaches chemistry labs, and bonnie teaches creative writing under sam.

bonus:

everyone knows that dr. and dr. bartlet are married--they’re the campus power couple who literally promote their spouse’s classes (”and if any of you are biology/econ majors, you’ll probably have my wife/husband”).

however, it’s somehow several years before any student figures out that there’s something going on between dr. lyman and professor moss.

they both have wedding rings on, but they don’t necessarily talk about their personal lives in class, so nobody really thinks much of it until a particularly gossipy student runs into them (holding hands, no less) at a local theatre’s production of a tennessee williams play and it spreads like wildfire.

so now everybody knows they’re married (and have impeccable taste in theatre).

cj and toby have been having an ongoing affair ever since his divorce, but they keep it very quiet.

sam is painfully aware that his students have crushes on him, but he keeps it incredibly professional (besides, he has one eye on that cute astronomy professor).

one of the girls who met kate and wondered if they liked girls was ainsley (and, spoiler alert: she did). there was a faculty/staff mixer at the beginning of ainsley’s first year teaching, and when they shook hands, ainsley forgot how to breathe for a second.

josh and joey went on one date during josh’s first year after he started teaching at this university, but it didn’t really work. however, they remain close friends.

[ravennm84]

Career Advice

Hi everyone!!  This story was inspired by a news anchor that I saw on TV, and thought to myself “what would happen if Alya asked that woman for an internship and showed that woman the Ladyblog.” There wasn’t originally going to be Alya redemption, but I decided that the girl needed some love too. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Alya was practically vibrating in her chair as she sat in the reception area of TVi News. She had heard from Aurora and Mireille that there was a summer internship opening and that she should submit an application. She had spent an entire week working on her resume with her mom’s help, citing her blog as experience. Her mother had told her that she might want to double check all her stories before going in, but already knew that she’d be fine. After all, she was an awesome reporter.

There were four other people in the room with her, and she was definitely the youngest. Two of them looked like they were university age and the other two probably attended lycee. That meant that they likely had a bit more experience than she did, but Alya was confident that her blog would set her up for the win. Not only that, Lila had put in a good word for her with the higher ups of TVi News. All she had to do was nail the interview and the internship was hers!

It was about an hour and two interviews before her turn came. Holding her head high; she grabbed her tablet and portfolio, straightened her skirt, and walked in as smoothly as she could in her heels.

The person conducting the interview was Claudia Ramonte, a no-nonsense kind of woman that always seemed to be on a deadline. She preferred people always be on-point and despised people that wasted her time. She was a legend in the industry, she had been an investigative journalist for over 20 years before going into semi-retirement by helping run the company and hiring new journalists. It was said that she had an eye for who had talent and who was just playing journalist. And if you fell into the latter or made the mistake of insulting her craft, you could kiss any hopes of making it big in the industry goodbye. So as soon as Alya shut the door behind her, she put on her most professional smile and extended her hand to her.

“Mme. Ramonte, Alya Cesaire, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She gave her a slight smile as she shook her hand. “When I saw that a kid in college was applying for the internship, I thought that you were either an idiot or you had a pair of steel balls. Show me which one it is.”

A little taken back but her forwardness, Alya’s hand shook slightly as she pulled her resume from the file and handed it to her. “As you can see, I’ve been running my blog, The Ladyblog, for close to a year and a half now.”

“Everyone and their mothers have blogs nowadays, Cesaire.” The woman scoffed as she tossed Alya’s resume onto her desk and turned to her computer, typing quickly. “Every candidate I’m interviewing today has at least two blogs, multiple news articles in their school newspapers, or videos from their college news or radio stations. What is it about your blog that makes you think that you are more qualified than any of them?”

Alya faltered for a second but wouldn’t be deterred, she was an awesome reporter and she would get this internship. “I’ve conducted multiple interviews with different celebrities; including Ladybug herself, other heroes of the Miraculous Team, the daughter of a diplomat who is also Ladybug’s best friend…”

“So have others, Cesaire.” She sounded bored, as she continued reading something on her computer screen.

Squaring her shoulders, Alya kept going. She refused to back down when she was so close to her internship. “I have also done extensive work on recording akuma battles and have compared my footage to other sites. None of them get as close or in depth as I do.”

“And why do you think that is, Mlle. Cesaire?” Her voice going cold

Alya blinked, not expecting the question. “Um… well-”

“Reporters and journalists are not to engage in dangerous situations that are considered life threatening. Whether someone is part of a staff or freelance, they are not to enter danger zones on their own, which you have apparently done numerous times. I will admit that when it comes to journalism, it is never without risks; but no story is worth your life.”

“But there’s no real danger, Ladybug always-”

“A terrorist is a terrorist, Cesaire.” The chill in the woman’s voice gained a hard edge. “And the attacks that have been done by the akumas have, on more than one occasion, shown the potential to be fatal. Should there be even a single time that Ladybug and Chat Noir not pull through, that could result in thousands of deaths. If you think that any credible news source would allow their people to do what you’ve been doing; then you’re more than an idiot, you’re a reckless idiot.” 

Then she turned one of her computer screens towards Alya, which was queued up to the Ladyblog. “And from what I’ve seen from your blog in the two minutes you’ve been in my office; you are not only reckless, but mediocre in your work as a journalist. I have looked through multiple posts and have yet to see a single credible source mentioned. So tell me, how can you think that you are qualified to work here if you cannot follow the most basic rule of journalism and check your sources?”

“I can assure you, everything I post is completely true!” 

“And I’m just supposed to take your word on that? Hardly.” She turned the screen back to herself, then started playing the first interview she had done with Lila. Mme. Ramonte played it for only 15 seconds, in which Lila claimed to be Ladybug’s best friend after she had saved her life, before pausing the video and looking at Alya. “If Lila Rossi, the daughter of a diplomat, had been saved by Ladybug, there would have been multiple articles and recordings of the incident. I just did a cursory search and the only link that came up connecting Rossi and Ladybug is your own blog.”

Alya was speechless. She wanted to say that Lila was telling the truth, but what reason would there be for Mme. Ramonte, who continued playing Lila’s interview, to lie? She stopped the video again a few seconds later, after the tale of saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from being run over by a plane on an airport runway. The look the legendary journalist gave her was that of total disgust and anger. 

“Do I even need to list all the things wrong with

this story?” When Alya didn’t say anything, Mme. Ramonte went off on her, practically ranting. “Firstly, Jagged Stone has been quoted multiple times as being allergic to animal fur, and would not own a cat. Second, no one would allow a minor onto a airport runway, as it would be seen negligence and possibly as an act of terrorism. Even if she had saved some cat from being run over and Jagged had been grateful, no self respecting musician would write a song about a minor that was not their daughter, as doing so could have him labeled as a pedophile. You are very lucky that M. Stone has not seen this interview, because if he had, you would have been served with lawsuits for slander. So, I’ll ask again. Is there anything to keep me from saying that you are nothing more than a wannabe-journalist that isn’t fit to work at a news stand?” 

She wasn’t even sure how to respond. Alya had been so sure that her blog was perfect, but after what Mme. Ramonte had said and how she was looking at her, she really did feel like an idiot for believing what Lila had said. Especially since she should have known better.

She now remembered when she flew to Spain with her parents when she was younger and how far away the landing strip was from the airport. There was no way Lila would have been able to see a kitten from that far away. Alya also remembered how she wanted to go outside and play, but her father told her that only authorized personnel were allowed outside at the airport. Then there was Marinette, the designer had mentioned how she couldn’t do certain designs for the rock star because he had fur allergies from when he was a kid.

Oh no, Marinette has been saying for months that Lila was a liar. Ever since she had seen Lila’s interview. And since she designs for Jagged Stone, she would know that Lila was nothing but a liar. She was also the one that got me my first exclusive with Ladybug, so she’d probably know that she was lying about that, too. And I had the nerve to tell her that she was just being jealous… I’m a terrible friend and an even worse journalist.

Looking back up at Mme. Ramonte, she was barely able to hold back tears as she shook her head. “No, Madame. There is no excuse for such shoddy journalism, it doesn’t even deserve to be called that. I apologize for wasting your time.”

The woman’s features softened slightly, but not by much. “You’re still very young and have a lot to learn about journalism, Cesaire. If I ever see you in my office again, I’ll expect more from you than any other candidate. That means looking out for your safety, knowing what is okay and not okay to publish, and checking your stories through multiple, reliable sources. I would also recommend killing your blog and starting new, the Ladyblog will become toxic to your career if it continues. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Alya couldn’t help but stare at the woman across the desk from her. Despite not deserving it, Mme. Ramonte had given her very sage and constructive advice that just might save her career in the long run. If she killed her blog now, started a new one or two, and followed her advice; by the time she finished lycee, she might be able to use them as proper references for her future career.

“Thank you, Mme. Ramonte. I won’t forget this.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Cesaire,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m going to remember this and I will be telling other news sources about your blog as well, to make sure you never repeat these mistakes again. So, if you are really set on being a journalist, don’t just prove it to me, prove to everyone that you are better.”

“Still, thank you. Have a nice day, Mme. Ramonte.” Alya stood from her chair but paused before she turned to walk away. “So you know, I think I’ll be doing one final post on the Ladyblog, to admit my mistakes and all the things I reported incorrectly on my blog, along with the sources to back it up. Sort of a final expose to rid myself of the bad energy from my blog, so I’ll be able to move forward.”

The woman gave a nod of approval. Before waving her out of the office. 

Alya kept her head high the entire way out of the building while doing her best to remain calm, or else risk attracting an akuma. As a bit of a cleanser, she sent a text to Marinette.

To FashionGurl: You were right about Lila. I’m so sorry for not listening to you. Can we talk on Monday? 

A few minutes later, she got a text back.

To FoxyJournalist: You can come by today if you want to talk.

To FashionGurl: Sorry, I’m going to be busy. I have a new story to write about that liar, one that will have multiple sources, showing everyone exactly the kind of person she is.

To FoxyJournalist: Can’t wait to read it!!

~oOo~

What followed for Alya was a very long weekend writing out every story/lie that Lila had ever told her and the class, research into Lila’s old schools, staking herself out in front of the Italian Embassy until Ambassador Rossi came out so she could introduce herself, and then a long conversation at a cafe with the very angry and distraught mother. There were a lot of questions, show-and-tell with the videos on Alya’s blog and news reports from Lila’s old schools, and then the recommendation that she go to speak with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier. 

Monday morning saw Alya going into the bakery before school, telling Tom and Sabine the truth about Lila, and then grovelling at Marinette’s feet for being such a terrible friend. One thing she did not hesitate to show the Dupain-Chengs were the records and news reports she’d found pertaining to Lila’s old schools. Tracking Lila’s social media, Alya had found three schools and discovered the kind of mayhem the girl left behind. 

One school had a perfect student named Gaia, much like Marinette, bullied until she was expelled. Another school showed another popular girl named Alessia had “fallen” down a flight of stairs and broken both of her legs, a few ribs, and one of her arms. Even though there were multiple eyewitness reports that Lila had pushed her, the Italian girl moved before she could be brought up on charges. The report from the most recent school made all of them sick. A girl named Ludovica had been stalked, harassed, and bullied over social media beginning the day Lila joined the school until the day the girl committed suicide. A quick backtrace on the account showed that it had been set up by Lila Rossi.

It was quickly decided that Sabine would be going to the school to have a word with the principal and teacher. Alya gave them a thumb drive with a copy of all the information she had found, she had multiple copies, so that if they decided to pursue legal actions, they had evidence to back it up.

At school, Alya went to class while Sabine took Marinette M. Damocles' office to speak with him and Mme. Bustier, since the woman was decidedly absent from the room. She had barely sat down when Lila entered the classroom, spouting off some story about meeting Ryan Reynolds over the weekend. Alya barely suppressed her snide grimace before hiding it with a smile.

“Really, Lila? That’s amazing! Did you get any pictures? I would love to post them on my blog?”

Now that she was watching, she saw the girl flinch when asked for actual evidence before putting on a sugary sweet smile. “I didn’t get a chance, my phone died.”

“Oh that’s annoying. Where did you see him?” She asked, pulling up the movie star’s Twitter account. “Because you were here in Paris over the weekend but according to his social media, he was visiting his home town in Canada this week.”

Alya definitely saw the girl scowl that time. “Oh, he just said that so he could come here without anyone knowing. He’s researching a role here in Paris and I was showing him around until my mom called me home.”

“Didn’t you just say that your phone was dead?” That got the classes’ attention, as they had just heard the girl say that was the reason she hadn’t taken any pictures. Lila was about to spout some new excuse; but Alya, who was now channelling her inner Mme. Ramonte, raised a hand to cut her off.

“Don’t even bother coming up with another lie. I know you’re full of crap and it spills out of your mouth with every word you say. And before you try to accuse me of lying, taking Marinette’s side, or bullying you; I think you should know that I spent the majority of the weekend looking into everything you’ve told us.”

The entire class watched the Italian girl’s olive skin turn a sickly white. But Alya wasn’t finished, this girl had been attempting to do the same to Marinette that she had done to Gaia, Alessia, and Ludovica. And as her BFF, she was not going to stand aside and let that happen. “I have piles of evidence that you were never in Achu and have never met Prince Ali, you were just playing hookie. I’ve got evidence that you are perfectly healthy and have never suffered from any of the diseases or ailments that you’ve claimed to have since returning to school. I’ve also got evidence that you have never met any of the celebrities that you claim to know. That includes Ladybug.”

Not so surprising, Lila attempted to turn everyone against Alya by turning on the tears. “That’s not true! I would never lie about all of that. You’re just saying that because you’re mad at me for not getting the internship!”

When the class looked back at Alya, they were surprised to see her grinning like a fox. “Did I forget to mention exactly how I know you weren’t in Achu? Or how I know you're perfectly healthy and don’t know any of those celebrities you’ve claimed to be close to?” 

She paused, mostly for effect before going in for the killing blow. “Your mom and I had a very in depth conversation yesterday when I ran into her outside the embassy. She wasn’t happy about your interviews on the Ladyblog, and she was confused as to why you were claiming to be Ladybug’s BFF when you’ve been telling her for months that she and Chat Noir were a couple of lazy, incompetent, and downright terrible heros; which was why the school was closed.”

If it were possible Lila paled even more before turning to run out the door. The door swung open just as she was reaching for the handle, and was met with an upset Mme. Bustier. “You are needed in the Principal's Office, young lady.” To the surprise of everyone there, Lila attempted to shove her way past their teacher. But the woman was faster and grabbed the girl by the arm in a firm grip before escorting her out of the room.

When the first bell rang a few minutes later, M. Harpele came in to act as the substitute until Mme. Bustier was finished with her meeting. 

Marinette returned to class before their teacher did, smiling bright as the sun and visibly more relaxed than anyone had seen her in weeks. She sat down beside Alya and gave her a tight hug while whispering “thank you” over and over.

“I take it things went well for you instead of Lila?” Alya grinned.

Marinette giggled. “She tried convincing her mom that all of us were akumatized and were trying to ruin her life, but she wasn’t buying it. Especially when M. Damocles showed Mme. Rossi her school records. Mom demanded that Lila give a formal apology and confess everything to the class, or she would get the Board of Governors involved. When Mme. Rossi found out that Lila tried to get me expelled, she lost it and started talking about a catholic reformatory school in Italy. Lila looked like she was going to be sick when she heard that.”

“It’s not perfect, but it’s what she deserves.” Alya shrugged before looking Marinette in the eye again. “I’m really sorry, girl. You’re my BFF, I should have listened to you when you told me Lila was a liar.”

“No, I don’t expect you to listen to me every time. I just wanted you to check things out and make sure that you weren’t being taken advantage of.” Then her brow creased. “I’m curious, what brought all this on?”

“Let’s just say that I just got some much needed career advice.”

[oyesmendes]

i keep on missing you

a/n: so remember when i said there would be a part two to “all i wanted was a happy ending” ? ya its here.... this was largely inspired by Missing You - The Vamps and i miss you, i’m sorry - Gracie Abrams. hope you guys got some tissues ready HAHAHA sorry in advance! @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @lonelyreputation​ 

read part one here

'Cause I'm sat here in my front room with a girl who ain't you / Hopin' and prayin' you're breakin' up with another fool

The sunlight that streams through the small crack between his curtains is what wakes Shawn up. He has his hand draped across a body - or should he say, his girlfriend’s body and he finds himself frowning at the lack of the olive skin he’s grown so used to waking up to. He’s quick to change his facial expression once he sees the body roll around to face him. The girl grins at him, stroking his cheek and pressing a soft kiss on his lips which he struggles to return.

“Morning, sunshine”

“G’morning” He mumbles back. They don’t say much, only sharing a few kisses and cuddle for what felt like too long before they both stumble out of bed into their morning routines.

Shawn is sitting at the dining table, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram like he was reading the morning papers. He likes a couple pictures posted by friends back in Toronto, before he lands on one that makes his breath hitch.

@kiara_hammani: everyday is worth celebrating with you. happy three months, sweet pea!

It was a picture of her - Kiara. His finger hovers above her face, wanting nothing more than to feel her skin against his. She was in that blue sundress they bought on impulse during a trip to Hawaii two years ago, and she was posing at the beach. Wrapped up in the arms of another man. He’s contemplating if he should zoom in or tap on the tagged account of the man, but decides to just stare at it for a couple more seconds instead. It’s only been less than five months since she moved out, how could she have moved on so quickly?

“Shawn? Hey you there, gorgeous?” Shawn blinks his eyes a couple of times to bring him back to reality. He quickly places his phone face down on the table and smiles softly.

“Yeah? Sorry I got a little distracted.”

“That’s alright, would you like coffee or green tea today?” She was holding up a French press in one hand and pack of teabags in the other. She smiles sweetly at him and Shawn feels himself cringe internally. This girl was everything but Kiara. The tone of her voice constantly laced with sweetness, and pale skin covered with fake tan which made her look orange. He thinks back to all the times that Kiara would purposely use a high-pitched voice to mock the waitress or random girl that was trying to get in his pants and they’d have a good laugh about it. He knows she would’ve done the same right now. Shawn looks at the girl standing in front of him and he hides the disappointment that fills his chest when he realises that she’s not here.

“I’ll have the tea, thank you Chris.” She nods and spins around to make him a mug.

Christine was your typical LA girl. Yeah, the ones that have beach blonde hair, holding a hydro flask and wearing cut off denim shorts all year round. How she and Shawn ended up together for the last two months? Ask management. They initially paired him off with another girl but she was way too much of a blonde that Shawn ended up ditching her on their first meet. He put up a strong fight with the team afterwards and they eventually settled on Christine. She was no where near Kiara, but according to Shawn’s publicist - Christine was the cure to his falling reputation.

So they’ve spent every single day together for the last two months, drowning out all the dirty news of their breakup. Shawn didn’t hate it completely, Christine was too nice to him that he forced himself to enjoy every moment. But he does catch himself comparing her to Kiara, and he can’t seem to shake himself out of it. He watches as Christine turns around, two mugs in her hand. At first, he doesn’t notice the pastel pink mug that belonged to Kiara. But as she places it down on the table, he sees the faint lipstick stain on the edge of the mug and he stops her from lifting it up to her lips.

“What’s wrong?” Christine asks when Shawn’s hand lands on top of hers.

“Throw it out.”

“What? Babe, I just made this-“

“I said THROW IT OUT!” She jumps slightly in her seat when Shawn raises his voice and he immediately regrets it. Christine pushes her chair back, letting them scrape the hardwood floor because she knows how much Shawn hates it when she does that. She gets up from her seat and stalks to the front door.

“You can throw it out yourself.”

Nothing happened in the way I wanted / Every corner of this house is haunted

The front door slams and Shawn is left with the same deafening silence from two months ago. His eyes focus on the mug and then roams the house. Every corner was filled with the essence of Kiara. After their heated argument, she moved out the next morning, taking everything that she could without the need to turn back. Naturally, she left a few shared pieces in the house which Shawn never touched, and it was starting to feel haunting. Each object that she had left - the dark blue curtains from Ikea, the cream coloured throw from a boutique in London, and even that chipped porcelain vase she bought from a kid at a yard sale held three years of happy memories. Memories he couldn’t bear to relive or throw away. Shawn would much rather be alone than to share this special place with someone new, but he couldn’t lose Christine now, especially when his career’s on the line. So he forces himself to grab his keys and pull himself out the front door. He’s out on the streets and thankfully, Christine hasn’t made it too far from the apartment building.

“Christine!” She increases her footsteps but before she could make the corner, Shawn grabs a hold of her arm.

“What do you want, Shawn?” He pulls her closer to him and she’s resting her hand on his chest. Her touch felt different. But Shawn settles for it in the moment.

“You, me and the grocery store.” He smirks at her. A small smile erupts on her face and Shawn knows he’s immediately been forgiven. It’s been a vicious cycle that’s got them through the last 8 weeks - Shawn does something stupid, then he makes it up by suggesting Christine’s favourite activity which he would hate, on a normal day. He knows this isn’t the way to love someone, especially someone who only has good intentions for him. But he needs Christine to stay, at least he thinks he does. She makes the silence less deafening, and it stops Shawn’s head from reeling into his horror movie of thoughts. She was his imaginary safety net, somewhere he could fall into for a moment and not think until reality hits him like a truck again.

-

The store was quiet, and Shawn is thankful for it. He doesn’t need to put on a loving couple front for the cameras or fans that would recognise him from a mile away. He’s pushing the trolley behind Christine, empty focus on the squeaking of the wheels.

“Should we try cashew milk this time? I was watching Claudia’s vlog the other day and she was raving about this brand.” Christine holds up the cartons in front of Shawn’s face. He smiles at her, knowing well that he has to give her some sort of attention or care in order for this relationship not to crumble.

Kiara couldn’t care less about the type of nut milk we had at home. He stops himself before he dives further into that part of his brain.

“Well if Claudia says it’s good, I don’t see why we shouldn’t try it.” Her face immediately lights up when Shawn showed the slightest interest in her rambling. She drops the carton of cashew milk into the trolley and scampers off while he trails behind her. They wander around the fresh produce, and while Christine goes on about which kind of salad she wants to make next week, Shawn hears the distinct laughter and voice.

His eyes dart around the store until they land on a specific couple and he sees her. In all her 5’7” glory, Kiara stood next to the same man that was on her Instagram post, trying to catch her breath from all the laughing the pair had been doing.

“You’re telling me, you microwaved eggs?!” She’s still laughing, shaking her head as she placed the carton of fresh eggs into the trolley in front of her.

“Hey, no shame in that! We were in college and really dumb. Besides, you’re the one that burnt the kettle to a crisp while making tea last week.”

“Well, we’re both to blame for that.” Shawn watches as Kiara gives the man one of those cheeky smiles that she used to give him. He watches as he attacked her sides, tickling and then peppering kisses down her neck as she squeals in excitement. Shawn should look away, he knows he should before he gets caught, but he can’t help himself. Before he knows it he hears Christine next to him,

“Shawn? Did you hear me? What are you- Oh for god’s sake!” The couple turns when they hear Christine raise her voice and Shawn snaps out of his trance. His eyes meet briefly with Kiara’s and her face falls just enough for Shawn to notice. Christine shoves the packet of spinach she has in her hands back on the shelf. She shoots Kiara a death stare before pushing Shawn out of the way and storming out of the grocery store. He doesn’t go after her, instead his hand tightens its grip around the handles of the trolley and he forces himself to breathe. The man with Kiara is rubbing both sides of her arms, a concerned look on his face as he mumbles something to her. She’s shaking her head, giving him a reassuring smile as they continue with their shopping, not taking another look at Shawn.

I still love you, I promise / Nothing happened in the way I wanted

Shawn abandons his cart, the Canadian in him feeling guilty about not placing the stuff back on the shelves. But his mind is running too fast that his legs couldn’t comprehend his own actions. He finds himself squatting outside the store, baseball cap pulled far down on his face. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, waiting for some damned miracle to happen. Something to fix his heart.

“I’ll drive the car up here? That way we don’t have to push the cart back.” Shawn recognises the same voice and he peers up slowly.

“Sure, I’ll wait here.” Kiara.

He waits for a couple moments before he scrambles to his feet and it makes Kiara jump out of her skin.

“Pinché pendejo.” She mutters under her breath. Kiara’s about to push her trolley further away, when she recognises the white and pink Dodgers baseball cap that used to belong to her.

“Shawn?”

He feels like a deer caught in headlights, looking down at her with widened eyes. The look on her face was unreadable as she puts her hands deep into the pockets of her hoodie. He tries to drink in as much of her looks as he can - the change in the way her hair now falls just above her shoulders instead of having it in those long beach waves; how she now has the confidence to be out in public with barely any make up on. The moment of staring doesn’t last too long though, when Shawn hears a voice call out for her.

“Babe, you good?” Kiara and Shawn both seem to be shaken back to reality quickly. She’s pushing her hair out of her face and smiling softly to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Let’s load her up.”

And I know you said that we're not talking / But I miss you, I'm sorry

“Wait.” Shawn says barely above a whisper. Both of them stop in their tracks and look to him.

“Can I-can I talk to her for a second? I promise you it won’t take long.” Kiara’s boyfriend is already dropping the bags back into the cart, trying to go in front of her to give Shawn a piece of his mind.

“Ryan,” She pulls his arm toward her and he switches his attention to his girl, “I’ll talk to him. I won’t take too long.” Ryan looks at Kiara then back at Shawn and he stalks toward him, chest out, looking like he’s ready for some brawl. Kiara’s holding her breath as she watches him walk, the anxiety in her chest just become worse by the second. Ryan has his pointer finger up, voice low as he stares at Shawn in the eyes, “you hurt her again and I guarantee you, I will ruin you.”

He turns back around, kissing Kiara on the cheek before he loads the groceries into the car.

Shawn smiles awkwardly at her, “well, he seems nice.”

“I’m so sorry, he’s just protective.”

“That’s okay, I understand.” An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them and Kiara think’s this is probably the worst idea in the entire world. To be standing out on a cold day in LA, next to her ex, with her boyfriend waiting less than 10 feet away. She’s wrapping her arms around herself, bouncing on her feet to keep herself warm. Shawn doesn’t say anything for awhile and Kiara’s growing frustrated by the second.

“Did you want to-“

“So I-“

They start at the same time, and it makes Shawn chuckle. But it makes Kiara sigh and she’s hugging herself tighter. Shawn finally sees the hint of annoyance on her face and his mind scrambles for the right words. (Though, I’m not exactly sure these are the write words, Shawn)

“How are you?” Kiara gives him a look, and she couldn’t believe her ears. After standing out in the freezing cold weather, he just wanted to ask how she was doing?!

“Get to the point, Shawn. I don’t have the time for small talk right now.” He’s fiddling with the loose thread from his sweater, trying to avoid Kiara’s intimidating brown eyes when he speaks.

“I just-I, I just miss you, Ki.” Kiara scoffs, very audibly and she takes a step back to look at him.

“Cariño,” He recognises the same sarcastic tone that her mother uses, “don’t you have a girlfriend you should be with?”

Breaking dishes when you're disappointed / I still love you, I promise

“Yeah I do, she’s standing right in front of me.”

“You did not just-“ Kiara mutters under her breath, shaking her head violently. She looks around her to ensure that there’s no one in earshot, then steps toward him and pokes his chest.

“Shawn Peter, you do not just squat out here wanting to talk to me after you argued with your current girl and then say that you want me back. You do not just walk up to me and say all those things after what you did, how you hurt me and-“

He grabs both her wrists and Kiara stops mid-sentence.

“What are you doing?” She mutters under her breath. Kiara knows that Ryan would be watching them both, and any bigger movement would send him running out of the car to punch Shawn in the face. She looks over her shoulder and she already sees the door of the Range Rover opening slowly.

“I miss you, I really do. I still love you, Ki, I still fucking love you.” He tries to lean in and Kiara finally had enough, pulling her hand out from his grip.

“Fuck Shawn, I’m happy now can’t you see? We’re over, it’s over.” Kiara turns around, her eyes meeting Ryan as he stands next to the car. She musters up a smile for him before she hears Shawn shout from behind her.

“Does he love you like I do?” She stops in her tracks and looks over at him.

“No Shawn, Ryan has done a better job in the last three months than you ever did in the three years I’ve known you.”

With that, Kiara walks away, and Shawn is left with half of his heart and the image of her back burned in his mind.

[orindas]

18 queer people in a small town being chaotic you say👀

Tell me more👀

aaaaa thank you for enabling me <333333

ok so this is the brain child of me processing a bunch of stuff from my old school while listening to queer country music and so I just took a bunch of inspiration from my own experiences and people that I knew and made it gayer and more dramatic 👁

so it’s set in this small town in the southern united states in a super conservative town and I have the main characters set up into 3-4 groups based on age (I have so many I might turn it into several short stories focusing on a few characters each? idk yet) and all of them went to the religious school in town and the ages of the characters range from like 15-21 I think??

i’m probably only going to go through the oldest ones since this is super long ajdkdlsksk so the first group is the ones who are like 21 ish and its laynie, caroline, owen, anika, thea, and charity.

laynie and caroline were best friends as kids and had a huge falling out in middle school because laynies mom was super controlling and mean and they spent high school hating each other. they went to separate colleges but over the summer when they are home they end up together at a party and just talk the whole time and become friends again. owen had a bunch of mental health issues during high school and moved out at 17 to new york. he found an amazing group of friends and became a drag queen. the thee of them end up in a poly relationship together after laynie and caroline stay with owen for a little bit while laynies aunt who she was super close with was in the hospital.

anika and thea have an enemies to lovers thing going. thea is charity’s best friend and they were like the super good religious girls in school whereas anika is this amazing soft butch artist saving up to go to art school. they hated each other in school but then got together after the graduated since neither of them went to college right away but they kept it a secret because ya know being in a sapphic relationship in a small town is not where it’s at😐 they end breaking up and staying good friends when anika leaves for art school but it’s super happy because they both figure out where they need to be in life and right now it’s not together, right person wrong time sort of deal.

as for charity, she is the classic ‘dated the same guy through all high school married right after graduation and then stays as a stay at home mom for the rest of her life’. she has crazy religious parents and never really had any other options she’s the third of ten kids and it’s insane. anyways her story is about figuring out her identity and finding a home in the queer community. also she kills her husband and that’s super cool (he deserves it).

the last one i’m going to go through is mimi and claudia, who are a lesbian couple in their like sixties. they own this super cute bakery/cafe/coffee shop in town and they used to live in nyc but ended up there for claudias family. I love them. after charity’s husband dies of ‘natural causes in his sleep’ she gets a job at their shop and they tough love her through her queer journey. I love them so much queer wine aunts basically

the other ones are all siblings or cousins of these ones and have a study group that ends up meeting at claudia and mimis! thank you so much for letting me ramble about them🥺

[rockislandadultreads]

Non-fiction titles about Serial Killers, for any murderino

The Kill Jar: Obsession, Descent, and a Hunt for Detroit's Most Notorious Serial Killer by J. Reuben Appelman

Four children were abducted and murdered outside of Detroit during the winters of 1976 and 1977, their bodies eventually dumped in snow banks around the city. J. Reuben Appelman was six years old at the time the murders began and had evaded an abduction attempt during that same period, fueling a lifelong obsession with what became known as the Oakland County Child Killings. Autopsies showed the victims to have been fed while in captivity, reportedly held with care. And yet, with equal care, their bodies had allegedly been groomed post-mortem, scrubbed-free of evidence that might link to a killer. There were few credible leads, and equally few credible suspects. That’s what the cops had passed down to the press, and that’s what the city of Detroit, and J. Reuben Appelman, had come to believe. When the abductions mysteriously stopped, a task force operating on one of the largest manhunt budgets in history shut down without an arrest. Although no more murders occurred, Detroit and its environs remained haunted. The killer had, presumably, not been caught. Eerily overlaid upon the author’s own decades-old history with violence, The Kill Jar tells the gripping story of J. Reuben Appelman’s ten-year investigation into buried leads, apparent police cover-ups of evidence, con-men, child pornography rings, and high-level corruption saturating Detroit’s most notorious serial killer case.

Death in the Air: The True Story of a Serial Killer, the Great London Smog, and the Strangling of a City by Kate Winkler Dawson

London was still recovering from the devastation of World War II when another disaster hit: for five long days in December 1952, a killer smog held the city firmly in its grip and refused to let go. Day became night, mass transit ground to a halt, criminals roamed the streets, and some 12,000 people died from the poisonous air. But in the chaotic aftermath, another killer was stalking the streets, using the fog as a cloak for his crimes. All across London, women were going missing--poor women, forgotten women. Their disappearances caused little alarm, but each of them had one thing in common: they had the misfortune of meeting a quiet, unassuming man, John Reginald Christie, who invited them back to his decrepit Notting Hill flat during that dark winter. They never left. The eventual arrest of the "Beast of Rillington Place" caused a media frenzy: were there more bodies buried in the walls, under the floorboards, in the back garden of this house of horrors? Was it the fog that had caused Christie to suddenly snap? And what role had he played in the notorious double murder that had happened in that same apartment building not three years before--a murder for which another, possibly innocent, man was sent to the gallows? The Great Smog of 1952 remains the deadliest air pollution disaster in world history, and John Reginald Christie is still one of the most unfathomable serial killers of modern times. Journalist Kate Winkler Dawson braids these strands together into a taut, compulsively readable true crime thriller about a man who changed the fate of the death penalty in the UK, and an environmental catastrophe with implications that still echo today.

Hell's Princess: The Mystery of Belle Gunness, Butcher of Men by Harold Schechter

In the pantheon of serial killers, Belle Gunness stands alone. She was the rarest of female psychopaths, a woman who engaged in wholesale slaughter, partly out of greed but mostly for the sheer joy of it. Between 1902 and 1908, she lured a succession of unsuspecting victims to her Indiana “murder farm.” Some were hired hands. Others were well-to-do bachelors. All of them vanished without a trace. When their bodies were dug up, they hadn’t merely been poisoned, like victims of other female killers. They’d been butchered.

Hell’s Princess is a riveting account of one of the most sensational killing sprees in the annals of American crime: the shocking series of murders committed by the woman who came to be known as Lady Bluebeard. The only definitive book on this notorious case and the first to reveal previously unknown information about its subject, Harold Schechter’s gripping, suspenseful narrative has all the elements of a classic mystery—and all the gruesome twists of a nightmare.

Mad City: The True Story of the Campus Murders That America Forgot by Michael Arntfield

In fall 1967, friends Linda Tomaszewski and Christine Rothschild are freshmen at the University of Wisconsin. The students in the hippie college town of Madison are letting down their hair—and their guards. But amid the peace rallies lurks a killer.

When Christine’s body is found, her murder sends shockwaves across college campuses, and the Age of Aquarius gives way to a decade of terror.

Linda knows the killer, but when police ignore her pleas, he slips away. For the next forty years, Linda embarks on a cross-country quest to find him. When she discovers a book written by the murderer’s mother, she learns Christine was not his first victim—or his last. The slayings continue, and a single perpetrator emerges: the Capital City Killer. As police focus on this new lead, Linda receives a disturbing note from the madman himself. Can she stop him before he kills again?

Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History by Tori Telfer

When you think of serial killers throughout history, the names that come to mind are likely Jack the Ripper, John Wayne Gacy, and Ted Bundy. But what about Tillie Klimek, Moulay Hassan, and Kate Bender? The narrative we're comfortable with is one where women are the victims of violent crime-not the perpetrators. In fact, serial killers are thought to be so universally male that, in 1998, FBI profiler Roy Hazelwood infamously declared that There are no female serial killers. Inspired by Telfer's Jezebel column of the same name, Lady Killers disputes that claim and offers fourteen gruesome examples as evidence. Although largely forgotten by history, female serial killers rival their male counterparts in cunning, cruelty, and appetite. Each chapter explores the crimes and history of a different female serial killer and then proceeds to unpack her legacy and her portrayal in the media as well as the stereotypes and sexist cliches that inevitably surround her. When you think of serial killers throughout history, the names that come to mind are likely Jack the Ripper, John Wayne Gacy, and Ted Bundy. But what about Tillie Klimek, Moulay Hassan, and Kate Bender? The narrative we're comfortable with is one where women are the victims of violent crime-not the perpetrators. In fact, serial killers are thought to be so universally male that, in 1998, FBI profiler Roy Hazelwood infamously declared that There are no female serial killers. Inspired by Telfer's Jezebel column of the same name, Lady Killers disputes that claim and offers fourteen gruesome examples as evidence. Although largely forgotten by history, female serial killers rival their male counterparts in cunning, cruelty, and appetite. Each chapter explores the crimes and history of a different female serial killer and then proceeds to unpack her legacy and her portrayal in the media as well as the stereotypes and sexist cliches that inevitably surround her.

The Spider and the Fly: A Reporter, a Serial Killer, and the Meaning of Murder by Claudia Rowe

In September 1998, young reporter Claudia Rowe was working as a stringer for the New York Times in Poughkeepsie, New York, when local police discovered the bodies of eight women stashed in the attic and basement of the small colonial home that Kendall Francois, a painfully polite twenty-seven-year-old community college student, shared with his parents and sister. Growing up amid the safe, bourgeois affluence of New York City, Rowe had always been secretly fascinated by the darkness, and soon became obsessed with the story and with Francois. She was consumed with the desire to understand just how a man could abduct and strangle eight women—and how a family could live for two years, seemingly unaware, in a house with the victims’ rotting corpses. She also hoped to uncover what humanity, if any, a murderer could maintain in the wake of such monstrous evil. Reaching out after Francois was arrested, Rowe and the serial killer began a dizzying four-year conversation about cruelty, compassion, and control; an unusual and provocative relationship that would eventually lead her to the abyss, forcing her to clearly see herself and her own past—and why she was drawn to danger.

[kuramirocket]

A new mural by Watsonville-based artist Francisco Alonso is slowly coming together at Cabrillo College’s main campus in Aptos.

This past May, for the first time in its history, Cabrillo’s graduating class was 50% Latinx. 

Alonso, who attended Cabrillo in the 1990s, said he wants to represent as many cultures and histories as possible in his work. Born in an indigenous community in Michoacán, Mexico, Alonso grew up in Watsonville, and was continually inspired by civilizations from all over the world. 

“I’ve always been interested in different cultures,” he said. “Especially in the Americas. As I got older, after learning more … I started taking classes and doing research in libraries.”

Alonso dabbled in art from an early age.

While at the school, Alonso helped establish a Movimiento Estudiantil Chicano de Aztlan (MEChA) program, aiming to bring educational and cultural events to the school that would help overcome racism. He eventually transferred to San Francisco State University, where he received a degree in art.

After learning that Cabrillo was holding an open call for artists to do a mural, Alonso applied and went through the process of rendering his proposal. Alonso’s mural, entitled “Unity,” was chosen by Cabrillo leadership after a committee of staff, faculty and students thoroughly reviewed each applicant. 

“Our committee reviewed a total of 11 excellent proposals from local artists, ultimately narrowing it to a top five and sending those five out to Cabrillo’s student body for input,” Claudia Hernandez, academic counselor and member of the school’s Chicano Latino Affairs Council said in a press release. “The timing of this project and the message of ‘Unity’ conveys a positive vision and an important message.”

Alonso’s piece was inspired by totems, which he said, “represent a community’s history and memories, and their relationship to creation and the elements.” Represented in the work are symbols of indigenous ancestral wisdom and knowledge from various cultures.

The mural will be located on the back of a campus elevator in front of the 500 building.

Outlining kicked off Sunday, and by Wednesday Alonso was busy filling in sections. Spacing out to safely work has been a challenge, Alonso admitted. Originally they were going to bring in students to help, but with Covid cases once again rising, they chose to be cautious. 

“Only about two people can safely work together on the mural, side-by-side,” he said. “It’s a bit of an awkward spot. So we’re scaling things down.”

Work should be completed by the time Cabrillo’s fall semester begins in the next couple of weeks, Alonso said. Then, they might bring art students by to hear Alonso speak about the mural and his process. 

“The weather has been friendly, so I’m hopeful things will go smoothly,” Alonso said. “I’m just very honored to be selected to do this mural.”