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lets-get-kraken-boys · 4 months ago

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Echoes of a Past Slayer — Demon Slayer Various X Reader

Chapter One — Was It Fate? Or Your Own Stupidity?

Previous — X // CHPTR 1 — You made it! // CHPTR 2 — Here!

Masterlist — Here!

Directors' Cut — Heyyyyy! Welcome to the first chapter of my Demon Slayer Canon insert! I have read a couple in the past, and they are just so much fun, I finally got the courage to write one myself! Mainly, @ islandsofviolence on AO3 was a big factor of me wanting to create my own tale. Please check out their Demon Slayer Isekai called, "Kimetsu no...Isekai? [Demon Slayer Various X Reader]" on AO3, it is a super fun read. I hope you stick around to read more as I intend to write many more chapters to this because this was very fun to do~! Thank you for taking the time to read my work.

Word Count — 6.9K Words

Reader Gender — Female (She/Her)

Warnings — Cursing (from Reader and various other characters), Canon-typical violence, slight changing of the actual story of Demon Slayer

What is Fate?

The order in which one’s life will progress is the base understanding of our existence. We appear through the lens of existence for a brief moment in time, this exact moment, and we get to experience life. Thriving and full, or empty and tragic—such is the balance we must endure. Our entire world dangles on a thread barely standing on the precipice of succeeding to breathe another time or fall into the icy cold grip of demise. Though only two things in life are a guarantee, something that everyone and everything shares together. You are born, and you die. We never know when either event is going to be, where it is going to be, but it’s there.

Can you control it? Can you avoid a predetermined path? Invisible to your eyes, but straight in front of you at every moment? Should you avoid it? Will life become even more of a hellhole if you defy nature?

Can you even begin to declare making the choice of defying Fate if that is exactly what Fate had in mind for you? The “choice” to deviate and be “different from the rest”; is it even a “choice” at all?

Fickle and fleeting is the life of the fool who labors over such mundane concerns.

Well, a fool you certainly are, if that’s what you’re thinking about when a pair of sharpened talons and vicious eyes honed in on your throat is in front of you at the moment.

You’d be lying if you said you had “no idea” how you got caught up in this whole ordeal. Earlier that day, your crow had given you the task of hunting another demon in the next town over. You’d kicked up a fuss at the time, having only just finished a mission an hour prior, begging the warden keeping your downtime locked away from you for one extra night to recuperate.

“Quit pouting,” your crow, Hoshiko, squawked as it dived to deliver a peck right to the top of your head, barely missing when you hastily ducked its ambush, “You must head off! Slayers just beginning their journeys with the Slayer Corps have been dying in much too numerous amounts as of late, so you must provide aid to the slayer in need!”

“You realize I've also only recently passed the trials too, right?” you sassed to the bird. A yelp escaped you as the bird persisted you to move on with threats of more pecks. You decided to stop complaining, if only for the sake of being able to help the new recruit. You remembered how grueling your first set of missions were after you’d completed the horror show known as the Final Selection. It’s only been a year since you passed, but the visions of those seven nights have yet to leave your mind. You’re not sure they ever will. Thinking back, you would have been eternally grateful to the Corp for sending a more experienced slayer to provide aid if things got out of hand. A particularly nasty injury you got on your back, that has since healed, began to ache at the reminder of the battles you faced. Fixing your breastplate to sit comfortably again on your torso after it had moved during your fight, you decided to shove the memory back into the vault, and focus on packing up.

You took off not too long after, waving to the family you’d rescued during the wee hours of the morning. The two children, a young boy and a girl slightly older than him, were sobbing into your shoulders, gripping your uniform with their tiny, shaking hands. Their overwhelming relief made perfect sense, you had just saved their lives from the clutches of the snarling demon only a few minutes prior. The parents were no better off, throwing their arms around the three of you in a frenzy of tears and wails of gratitude. “Thank you for saving our babies!”, they profusely sobbed over and over to you. You took their sopping thanks with as much grace as you could provide after feeling exhausted and sweaty from the battle. Though, seeing the parents fuss over their children and plant wet kisses all over their red faces made it worth it.

Miraculously, as thanks, they sent you away with a huge helping of the dinner they were so rudely interrupted during. That act gave you all the strength you needed to take off and tackle the next horde of beasts you would face. You walked for hours, observing the rolling hills of grass and the forests you passed through bursting with life. The trees stretched tall and expanded wide, showing the thriving health of the woods. Life thriving never fails to make you smile.

You passed by farm after farm, most harvesting their latest crop of rice, some growing sweet potatoes. Children playfully chased each other through the fields, laughing together. Young adults—their parents, no doubt—hollered at them to be careful to not hurt the budding crops. An older couple passed you as you moved onward. You gave them a formal bow, wanting to show respect by bidding them a good day. The woman giggled at your action, expressing her delight in how nice of manners you possessed, and placed two hard candies into your palm with only the gentleness a beautiful woman could. She gave your head a gentle pat and she and her husband bid you a nice day. You watched them walk off, arm in arm, conversing about this and that, just sharing their time and love with each other. It made you smile how they shared the little pleasures that they knew would make their other half happy. You stopped only a handful of times after that to munch on the helping of dinner you received and poke fun at Hoshiko, eventually reaching the town you were assigned to investigate. Crossing a large wooden bridge arching over the lapping river below, you see the town.

It was dusk, the sun slipping slowly behind the mountainous landscape. Pinks, oranges, yellows, and blues bled into each other in the darkening sky. Clouds began to blot the skyline, not dark enough to suspect rain, but thick enough to blanket the world in darkness. The perfect time to begin the hunting of a demon.

From the little light that was left for the day, your eyes scanned about. Well built, sturdy buildings filed together in singular lines in uniform fashion. Dozens of homes and shops with blue roofs stand firmly. Shops had big painted signs displayed outside with their names brushed in bold colors. Wares were dotted along the busier roads in front of shop doors to entice curious onlookers inside. Power lines draped along the streets like curling vines dangling from their place in the high treetops above. A looming peak stood proud on the border of the city, its jagged crown stabbing the cloudy sky.

The faint waft of freshly cut pine wood filled your senses. Earthy and heady, it grounded you. Various insect chirps buzzed through the air and electricity surging through the lines gave the night a familiar comfort. The shuffling of people’s feet as they make their way home for the night, the creaking of branches with the budding life of spring, a wind chime singing far off in the distance—all of this spelled out the signs of a peaceful village. But, you knew better, as a monster lurked in the shadows somewhere, threatening to desecrate the happiness of these townsfolk.

Rather immediately rushing in to behead the demon, you bide your time. As much as you want to slay the demon on your own to get this mission over quicker, this wasn’t your task. The task you were assigned to, you made sure to clarify with your crow, was to interfere as little as possible with the fight that will ensue, and simply provide aid to the new recruit. This was meant to be their fight, but if the battle began to prove fruitless, then you had permission to take the helm.

To make use of yourself, you decided to walk through the desolate alleyways of the village in search of clues of the demon’s whereabouts that may have been left behind. A torn scrap of attire of a poor victim of the demon’s slaughter, a lost shoe, a splatter of blood, dried or fresh—anything. You had the awareness to keep an eye and ear out for the slayer that was supposed to already be around somewhere. You saw and heard nothing for a while. Lights that had been flickering in windows of the townsfolk’s homes were now beginning to be snuffed out for the evening. Chattering died into meager whispers.

The hour drew much later into the night, and the lack of sleep was starting to get to you. Two nights and a full day of walking in the hot sun drained the life out of you, not to mention the fight with a whole different demon the day before was nothing to lift your nose at. The only thing keeping you awake at this point is your game of gently humming a familiar tune and quizzing yourself on if you could remember where it was from. You were starting to wonder if there really even was a slayer being sent to this location. Hell, maybe there wasn’t even a demon in the first place! Who knows. Funny thought, but you knew that the higher ups wouldn’t waste your time with a fake mission.

“Hmm…,” you rounded another corner. Nothing. Nothing but pitch black emptiness and a couple pieces of litter. Random glass bottles tipped over and broken, a half-eaten fried fish on a stick from one of the local vendors no doubt, and a few crumpled up sheets of, now drenched and grossly stained, paper. Your eyebrows pinched down, a dirty look forming on your features. You moved on, a complaint ready to dig at nobody on your tongue.

“Ugh,” you sighed, “Demon sure is takin’ its time. Is it not hungry? Is that why it hasn’t begun hunting? Hm, not likely. Demons are always gluttons,” you glowered as you carefully lifted your foot high and forward enough to avoid stepping in a sticky clump of some garbage plopped on the ground.

You continued to rant to yourself, “Hoshiko better give me a smoother mission next time, or I swear on that bird’s life, I’ll add a new fashion statement to my uniform. A feather boa! I mean, is it so hard to say, ‘Hey, (Y/N)! Since you’re such a great slayer, the big boss decided to send you to a bustling, bright town! You can relax, and eat all the delicious food you desire—aw heck, you know what? You don’t even have to hunt the demon here! Just take the day off, you’ve earned it!’. Would be much nicer than sifting through…whatever this stuff is,” your face pulled into another disgusted twist as you saw two rats fighting over what looked to be an old, moldy pastry.

“Okay. Quit complaining, (Y/N). Now, which way haven’t I gone yet? I think I’ve checked the whole West and North ends. Maybe move more towards the East—,” a shrill grating sound pierced the deafening silence that had swallowed the land. That shut your mouth tight. Your head shot over in its direction. East. Damnit. You left no time for hesitation, already darting out of the alley and rushing off into the darkness enveloping the roads towards that terrible noise that was rattling off.

You raced along, jumping up high to sprint atop the thin walls lining streets, sharp eyes scanning for any sign of a fight breaking out. Hopefully the new slayer isn’t inept enough to get themselves killed before you arrive. You didn’t want to arrive and see a gory massacre. You ran faster at the harrowing thought, closing in on the beacon. The sound was more aggravating than scary, if you were being honest. It made the back of your tongue unconsciously curl up like a viper ready to strike, the muscle trying to block the vicious resonance from bouncing around in your skull. You pull a face at how ugly it rang, your highly trained ears wincing at the intrusion of such an awful shriek as you neared. Finally, you arrived at the epicenter.

You hopped down from the ledge of the fence into the mouth of a street hidden behind a few residential housing structures. The road was rather lack-luster from an architectural standpoint. Only the wooden fencing surrounding the backyards of the houses and a few entrances to more homes that were latched shut for the night. Though, the scene that lay before you was anything but ordinary.

There were two people, a man and a woman, cowering off to the side. The woman appeared to be passed out in his arms, judging from the limpness of her posture. The man was trembling but not looking at the woman in his arms. Instead, he gazed out further into the road as if just having seen something horrific. Telltale signs that you're exactly where you need to be. Demons spark that primal fear in humans, and only a demon can drag that expression out of someone.

A few paces ahead of the couple, a boy with a large wooden box on his back and a green and black checked haori draped on his back was pointing a blade at something hidden in shadow. The color of the metal was as black as the night sky. That told you he was most likely the beginner slayer you needed to aid. From what you’ve heard from your personal swordsmith, only indecisive and inexperienced slayers get that color of blade gifted to them from the Gods. At last, your final obstacle. A creature halfway poking out of the ground was the recipient of the end of the slayer’s blade. A portal of some kind shields the rest of its body from your view, murky black water lapping at the edges of the foe’s torso. Its hideous face was constrained in a deep frown, its brow bone framing blood red eyes that practically glowed with intensity. Blue hair draped long down its back in a repulsive waterfall. Its stare was beaming straight at the boy with mahogany-colored hair, hardly acknowledging the man and the woman nearby.

Your heart said to jump in and protect the boy and those caught in the crossfire of the fight, but you held back. Remember. You were tasked with aiding the slayer in case they could not handle the mission, not to rush in and risk yet another life. You’d just get in the way. You had to stay put. No matter the ache you felt, no matter the fear or worry about another person’s life. Your loyalty was to your master, not some random boy.

Though…why does it feel like you know him, even though you know you have never met?

You stalked closer into the fray just as the demon began hollering in anger. Not at you, but at the boy pinning him to his spot with his sword.

“You bastard!” The demon shouted at the slayer staring him down. As you neared, you noticed that with the hellish eyes and furrowed non-existent brows, two horns sat crudely across from each other on its forehead, jabbing outward with the same likeness as the mountain at the edge of this town. You locked your dominant hand steadily along the shaft of your weapon, your beloved naginata, lifting it from its resting spot on your shoulder and lifting up your other hand to firmly grasp the pole. You’d long since removed the scabbard from the blade, so there was no hesitation from not being prepared. The red gloss of your naginata’s pole glinted in the moonlight. You continued to examine the scene. You wanted to test the idea of an ambush approach as the demon hasn’t shown that it's noticed you yet.

The creature clenched its fists and pointed at the girl helplessly asleep in the arms of the civilian, “Back off for crying out loud! That girl’s gonna go stale on me, dammit! That girl’s already 16, okay? If I don’t devour her soon, she’s gonna lose flavor by the second!” You wanted to rush in already at the vulgar words spat out by the wretched beast. Absolutely disgusting, all of them. Vile cretins being shit out by the dozens by the demon lord’s work. None of them were salvageable. You wanted to roll your eyes, but another mucky puddle appearing from seemingly out of nowhere swept the thought of showing the demon a thing or two away.

“Calm down, my other self. So what? There are going to be nights like this.” You couldn’t see its face—no doubt it was just as hideous as the other one before you, but you could tell that it was nearly a mirror image of the other demon not too much further ahead. You could faintly see a singular horn sticking straight up from its skull rather than mirroring the dual horns of its “other self”. It was wearing slightly different clothes than the same demon a few yards ahead, it wore a greyish blue nagagi with mesh forearm sleeves, while the other wore a shinobi-style fighting uniform with a mesh undershirt. The same long blue hair hung down its back, the same sickly grey skin tone, the same tones in its vocal inflection. This demon must have spent quite a long time working with its own mutation blood art. Some were better at manipulating their skills than others, but all demons were capable of using it.

You moved your naginata further outward to have a clear shot at the new guest’s neck. If this added threat decided to get cocky, rush backwards, and go for you instead, you’d be ready.

It raised its hand to cup its chin, “I’ve already fed on plenty of 16-year-old girls in this town. They were all quite meaty and delicious~. I’m satisfied.” You could practically hear the smirk in its voice. You bit down a curse, so many innocents lost. Too many good young women lost to these disgusting things. Unclean, unfaithful, unworthy. You hoped it suffered wherever it ended up once it was slain. It wants a reaction. You know this. You inhale and exhale slowly. The slayer and the demon had yet to say anything about your appearance on the outskirts of their fight, nor did they give any indication that they knew you were standing there. You would like to keep it that way for the latter party.

With a pathetic whine, the demon with two horns on the opposite end groaned, “Well, I’M not satisfied, my other self! I wanna consume more!” It panted and shivered with its lust for the flesh of the living.

“You monster…,” the man who had been shaking like a poor leaf near the wall grit out. You didn’t blame him for his fear. Monsters were supposed to be fictional. And yet, here you are, stuck in a beautiful nightmare.

He took a defiant step towards the monster ahead, though his voice cracked under the pressure of confronting the beast, “Return Satoko to me. The one you abducted the night before last!” The man demanded, but it came off as more of a plea rather than any threat.

Shooting from the darkness, the terrible grinding began again. You cringed and saw a third demon nastily crushing and gnashing its own teeth together in a frenzy on the roof to the left of you. Its lower jaw ran at an unbelievable rate, rubbing and scraping to send out an ear-splitting rattle. It did not speak actual words, but it sure took the attention of the room. Soon after, the demon with two horns on its head joined in the decrepit language of poor dental hygiene.

Speaking through its co-partners' chittering, the seemingly most level-headed of the three demons—the one with the singular horn—took the helm, “Satoko? Which one are you babbling on about?” The leader lifted the left side attire, revealing something you couldn’t see because of your position. It was then that the demon slayer and the man turned around to face both you and the demon. Both of them shared a surprised look in their eyes at your arrival, but you raised a hand to silence any comments they could make to blow your cover. You slowly lowered your hand into position again, and winding back your stance. You naginata glistened with an opalescent sheen along the blade of your Nichirin ore. When you received your naginata from the swordsmiths that day so long ago, you surprised everyone around with the color the blade took on. From the nature of the Breathing style blooming throughout your body, it influenced the metal to turn an opaque white. A white so pure it rivaled that of the stars. The quality of the blade was evident in the power it stored slowly ramping up. You felt the wind around you churn into a spiraling wall surrounding you on all sides as you thought these words in your head.

Instinct Breathing…

“If her hairpin is among these collectibles of mine, then I’ve devoured her~,” A cruel snicker followed these harrowing words.

Third Form…

The silence that followed the monster’s haunting reveal gave you your answer. You couldn’t sit by and leave these people in the threat of danger. Demon slayer, or not. You’re better than that. A breath sent straight to the depths of your core was the finish of your long wind up.

Honed Vigilance of the Sturdy Soldier.

You launched forward, having built up so much force behind your swing that the singular step alone carried to the monster’s weak point. In a flash, you brought down the blade of your naginata, lining up perfectly to land the first and final blow. Without warning, all three demons slink back into the swampy muck. However, you anticipated this. Though your blade couldn’t fully connect with its intended target, you stuck it further forward than the demon thought you could. With the added length of the shaft of your weapon, you were able to at least slice open part of the soft flesh of the demon’s neck. It was a warning—no, a promise. A promise that your perfect blade wouldn’t miss next time.

Your gaze darts around, searching for any sign of the triplets, but nothing appears yet. You lifted your eyes to acknowledge your fellow slayer, but were greeted with the eyes of pure hatred. It stunned you for a second. How strange. After a lifetime of seeing the eyes of malicious people with ill intent, human and demon alike, you wouldn’t have expected such passionate eyes and rosy cheeks to be torn apart with such a ghastly rage. Given the situation, you can’t say you’re entirely surprised that the boy is expressing such powerful emotions, but did he know this poor girl? Does he share the same grief of the man who looks beyond shattered after the reveal of its master plan? Why is he so devastated? You’re intrigued, but the questions can come later.

“Unforgivable. Vermin like these cowards don’t deserve to be graced with the honor of a quick death my blade brings,” you say, mostly to yourself, but the slayer catches your words. You care not to give him an explanation, especially when a dripping puddle forms just to the right of you. One of the demons clambers out with a swift leap. It aims for your face, its claws lashing out to strike. You move quicker, propelling your torso backward and smacking the roach with the pole of your naginata. The hit forces the demon to miss your body and instead lodge its outstretched arm into the stone wall beside you. The slayer thankfully catches on to your evasion and helps by slicing the demon’s arm clean off. A rather refreshing splash of cool water dripped onto your arms after his attack. Making sure it was not the blood of the demon, you can guess what his Breathing style is now. Always helpful to have a Water Breathing user around.

While he did manage to hit the target, it wasn’t exactly the right spot. You saw the flaws in his form. It was obvious he did have formal swordsman training, but he was still rather clunky in his preparation for the finishing blow. You saw him attempting to move his body into the correct position to match up with the timing of his Breathing technique, wiggling a squirming as his legs and arms fought against the natural power his body held. It left too many openings for his enemy to evade the slice that matters the most—the one to the neck. Demons weren’t like humans, cutting off a limb or slitting their throat wouldn’t prove fatal. You have to sever the spine from the skull with a true Nichirin blade to ensure a definite kill. That, or the sun—but only idiotic or regretful demons allow themselves to be burnt alive by its warmth.

With not a single peep of distress, the demon slunk back into its home in the mud. No time is given to either of you to process the retreat as another well of water forms next to the slayer. You watch as the slayer reacts with stunning efficiency, flipping his body up and over the attacking demon. As the vermin tries to launch back into the ground, it gives you just enough time to swipe at its throat again. Though, the demon tucks down its head, and your blade only meets its back. You decorate its left shoulder blade all the way to its right hip with a deep slash. You bit back a curse again, damn. They’re quick.

The slayer dodges a swift jab from below from one of demons hiding in a pond, but it proves to be a distraction as the opponent with two horns takes a stab at him from behind. Oh no. You can’t get there fast enough. You can’t bring your blade up quick enough to slash off its arm. The boy is going to be attacked and you can’t reach him. No. You can’t stop the attack without potentially harming the other slayer, you don’t stop. You can’t explain why you did this because no thought drove you to. Your body just moved on its own. It was just instinct.

You put yourself between the slayer and the oncoming attack.

However, the attack that connects doesn’t quite come from the angle you expected.

Nothing prepares you for the moment the slayer’s box he’s been lunging around on his back swings open with a ferocity you haven’t seen in awhile. You also couldn’t have been prepared for a strong leg to come out lightning fast directly after and CRACK across the demon’s face dead on. That hit quite literally sent it spinning, its head swiveling in circles on its spine and its body launched back a couple yards. You saw it lay there motionless on the ground. No way it's dead, right? As you picked up your jaw up off the ground and turned your gaze to whatever the hell could be hiding in the box, all you saw were claws.

This is where we found you when we first started. A pair of sharpened talons and vicious eyes honed in on your throat as you prepare to be torn apart by a demon draped in a pink kimono with black and orange hair.

You don’t have time to prepare your weapon for any attack. The demon is too close to get a good hit either way. It’s too fast, faster than any opponent you’ve faced before. All you can do is stare as she guns to swipe her knife-like nails across your delicate throat and end your days. Though, that blow is never completed. You blink, and suddenly, the demon doesn’t look so monstrous anymore. Suddenly, she’s just a girl. Gentle pink eyes with round irises gaze at you, blown out from their previously cinched slits. The deep veins previously thrumming on her forehead that carry her potent demon blood now smooth down into soft, flawless skin. Her expression doesn’t look nearly as petrifying anymore. In fact, you’d go so far as to say that her eyebrows are no longer furrowed downward in anger, rather, they’re pinched up in…worry? Concern?

…What the hell?

You stand scared stiff as the girl fully exits her home in the box. She stands on sturdy legs and shuffles slowly closer to you. You can only watch as the girl directs a kindhearted ‘hmm?’ through a muzzle made of bamboo at you. Yeah, you think you’re seeing things too. Is that the new fashion trend of this era for demons? Safe to say, you’re not gonna jump on the bandwagon for that one anytime soon.

Sassy thoughts aside, you continue to stare perplexed at the girl. Why is a demon standing in front of you and not attacking? Matter of fact, why has the only thing she, a DEMON, attacked so far been another demon? Weren’t there wars or some shit between demons that outlawed them hurting each other? Hey, don’t judge, mystical mind reader! You’re not a demonologist or anything, you don’t know all the thousand-year wars between demons and their blood feuds…WAIT A SECOND, THAT SLAYER WAS—!

“Why would a mere human be accompanying a demon?” The leader demon with one horn muttered to itself in boiling fury. The demon girl took a battle stance, facing the demon still laying on the ground. You glanced over at the demon barely poking its body out of the puddle and barely caught its look of disdain before it slunk back into the void. With a quiver and a shake from the motionless foe still on the ground, the two-horned demon’s head began to whirl wildly in the opposite direction that it had originally been sent spinning in. She must have pummeled the wretch good because its head took a few seconds to finally slow to a stop once it reached its natural position. The body was then consumed in a sludgy mess of ick, disappearing from sight. Back into the darkness the demons fled.

With the fleeting moment of rest, you took a second to gather yourself. A cold sweat had broken out all over your body at the appearance of the girl and from nearly escaping death by her hands. You steadied your grip on your naginata. She’s a demon. There’s no way she’s not. A kick that powerful cannot be human. It also explains why she can curl up inside a box for who knows how long. The box. The slayer. He had to have known she was in there, the weight alone would have given it away. If he knew she was in there…he must know. He has to know she’s a demon. He’s harboring a demon instead of killing it. He’s hiding the enemy. He’s an enemy.

The demon girl had taken the chance while you were in shock to wander over to the man and the woman. She had raised up her hands to their faces, almost like a mother trying to sweetly cup the cheeks of her babies. Oh my God, she’s going to rip their faces off. She’s toying with them.

She’s going to hurt them.

They only hurt people.

Help them.

Protect the innocent.

Yet again, you don’t think, you just move.

With no warning, you rocket forward. Your naginata is outstretched to reach the creature quicker as you aim straight for the demon’s vertebrae. This time, you won’t miss.

Too bad the “hapless little” slayer you were tasked to babysit stops your onslaught with a hefty block of his own katana. A mighty CLASH of steel on steel echoes throughout the walls of the back alley road. Your breath is steady and calm as you draw it in to fuel your Breathing technique. Years of training has led you to breath this deeply unconsciously, it has been like this for you for since you were young. The boy’s is shaky and uneven. He tries to catch your eyes with his own, trying to reason with you through a wordless plea for mercy, but you don’t give him the chance. You stare through his head with a thousand yard stare. You’re honed in on her neck peeking through her unbelievably long black locks. He’s not a threat, he’s just an obstacle. A hiss resonates from your blades dragging against one another. Though his stance is weaker than your own, the fire you can sense blazing within his soul confirms your suspicions from before. His passion extends to everything, not whether or not he personally knows the woman who died. He’s just that kind of soul. It would be honorable, if he wasn’t being such a deplorable little nuisance.

“Let me explain—,” he tries to reason, but you hold your own. Only when he speaks up do you finally greet his nervous irises with your own infuriated ones.

“Explain what? That you’re as dishonorable as they come? Harboring a demon? Not only refusing to slay the enemy, but also preventing another slayer from cleaning up the mess you left behind?!” You step back. The movement forces the boy to nearly trip over from how hard he was pushing back against you. You bring down a harsh swing of the wooden pole of your weapon straight into his side. He coughs and hacks, the air shoots out of his lungs. He noticeably struggles from the force of your blow. Yet, he continues to stand tall. He blocks the incoming swipe of your blade with a counter slash of his own and delivers a hard shove with his weapon. You stumble back, witnessing him form a defensive wall in front of the girl, stance wide and body ready to retaliate your advances with more strength than ever before.

“I refuse to hurt you, but I won’t let you kill Nezuko!” The boy yells at you with incredible volume. After gasping for air from when you slammed your staff into him, you’re surprised he can even speak. You continue to observe him, processing his words. Nezuko. That’s the girl’s name. Hm. How the hell did you learn the name of the girl who's not supposed to even BE here and haven’t caught the slayer’s? The Corps needs to get better at disclosing what nutcases you’re going to be saddled with in the future.

Before you could shout your own overflowing anger back out at him, your little spat is interrupted by the swamp demons. Two of them slither back up to the surface like writhing worms both holding frustrated expressions upon their faces. You sigh, eyeing who you now know as “Nezuko”. It pisses you off. You don’t want to stop trying to slay the demon, but there are more pressing matters at hand. Namely, the three demons who are actively trying to kill you all right now. The only thing good about Nezuko so far is that she hasn’t actually tried to eat you yet, so, small blessings, you suppose.

The slayer seems to have noticed them too. With a smack of your lips, you cut away from the duo. You ready up your naginata, aiming at the demons lingering in the background and charging up another form, when the girl demon does another thing that surprises you.

You distantly hear the slayer calling Nezuko’s name, but you don’t acknowledge it as you see her face toughen up the same way it did when she first attacked the demon gunning for the boy, rush forward with miraculous speed, lift her right leg up almost perpendicular to the ground, and slam it back to the spot where the closer demon had been. You hear the ground splinter, and it physically caved underneath the incredible force of her stomp. Sadly, the coward fled away from her attack into the swampy marsh below, leaving behind no trace of its existence.

Okay. Maybe there’s more than just one good thing about Nezuko. Point taken, universe.

You shake your head to clear your mind, dash over to the slayer and barricade in the man and the woman he is still clutching onto. The second demon, the one with one horn, chuckles with a sinister grin and slinks back into the darkness as well. Nezuko goes to chase after her foe, but the boy calls for her to cease her hunt.

“Nezuko! Don’t chase after him! Get back here!” You hear the boy call out to her. She halts, looking back with a deceiving aloof stare, and begins her brisk jog back to the four of you like a dog following their owner’s commands. On her way back, the swamp demon tries to take a cheap shot at her by popping out of a puddle and swiping at Nezuko’s legs.

“Nezuko!” The boy cried, and even you got a bit nervous at how close the ingrate got. However, Nezuko somersaulted high into the air, practically floated back down into a safe landing on her knee, and carried on her merry way. Like nothing even happened! She reached you guys, having completed her journey back to the slayer’s side. Even the swamp demon shared the same shocked expression as you had at her amazing feat. The boy had a troubled look on his face as he stared at Nezuko, some plan obviously swirling in his mind. He took a second to look around. Apparently, the demon decided he was taking too long to admire the scenery. Another puddle appeared directly below him. It tried to latch onto his foot, no doubt attempting to drag him under, but he jumped back as quickly as it appeared.

“Watch out!” The slayer’s shout doesn’t reach either of you in time. Out of nowhere, another pool appears next to you and Nezuko, and the demon with two horns catapulted out. He swipes his claws at you both, Nezuko fending off the brunt of the attack as you stepped in front of the bystanders. You forced them further back from the confrontation.

“Careful!” you yelled back at the civilian. You felt his shaking through the woman he carried as you pressed them away. Your legs are bent and your hands are grabbing your weapon with a tight grip. You train your eye on the demon, watching him lift his upper body up from the ground and squat deeper into a fighting stance.

“Nezuko,” the boy catches both of your attentions with her name, “I’m going underground! I want you to protect these two! You can do that, right?” Nezuko stopped to give him a knowing look, nodding her head in agreement with his plan. Though, you didn’t share the same kindness with him. From the vicious look you branded him with, he decided in that moment he would much rather face a hungry demon than endure the wrath of a pissed off woman.

“Leaving a demon in charge of protecting the humans? Man, what numbskull trained you?!” You snarled at the slayer with even more animosity than an angry bear possessed.

“Well—um…I’d have asked you to take care of them too, if I knew who you were, miss!” The boy shook his hands back and forth, sweating up a storm and stuttering over his flaws. A fleet of “I’m sorry”’s spilled out of his lips, upset at how bold he was being to a woman he had just met. He appeared to be trying to reconcile all the broken bridges you had between you two thus far, but that plan didn’t seem to be going super well at the moment. You’d have laughed at the nervous expression he now donned if you weren’t currently in a life or death situation.

You deadpanned at him. You looked over at Nezuko, who only gave you a slight tilt of her head as if asking ‘What do you want me to do about it?’.

“Oh, don’t agree with him!” You muttered while shooting a much less intimidating glare at the cutesy girl. You’re sure if Nezuko could laugh through that freak muzzle holding back the maw of razor-sharp teeth she probably hid away, she would have. With a now hardened expression, the slayer lifted his foot and stepped forward into the swirling puddle of sludgy black goop sitting right in front of him. As he sunk further and further down, and bit your lip in worry. Hey, he might be a dumbass and a fugitive by the Corps laws, but if he was going to die down there, you might as well give him your name.

“Hey!” The boy glanced back up at you.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N)! Don’t die down there before I get yours in return, okay?!” You yelled over at him. He didn’t have time to give you his name back, so all he could do was give you a wide smile. Those damn bright eyes and rosy cheeks. There was that passion again. The same drive that sent your brain floundering for an explanation. He is so odd.

“What a dreadful start to this evening,” You let out a deep sigh as you readied up for a dicey battle fighting alongside your sworn enemy.

~ To be continued… ~

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I do not own the story of Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba). I do not own the characters of Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba). I am not a part of the crew who has participated in the creation of the manga or anime of Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba). I am not making any profit off of this story.

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#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #x reader #female reader #canon au #canon rewrite #harem x reader #reverse harem x reader #various x reader #everyone x reader #demon slayer various x reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #nezuko kamado #nezuko x reader

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myokk · 4 months ago

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✨WIP TAG GAME✨

Thank you so much @libellule-ao3 for the tag🫶🫶🫶 I LOVED reading your excerpt, your writing flows and reads beautifully. Like a classic♥️ and I really feel for Ominis…the vulnerability of not being able to navigate with his wand😔

I’m writing three things right now so I went a little overboard😅

Before it Felt Like a Sin, Chapter 26:

“I just…in my dreams, she’s showed me how to extract my memories. I thought I would try, see if I was successful, and then you showed up. And…I just don’t know how to talk about it. I don’t know how I could make you understand…All I’ve ever wanted - or thought I wanted…”

Standing up awkwardly, too quickly, Eloise started to walk towards the Pensieve. Sebastian stumbled after her, confused, not comprehending anything she was trying to tell him, and paused when he saw how her hands trembled as she lifted the vial with her memories. She faltered right as she was about to pour them in.

Now, instead of seeing the silvery liquid as something beautiful, Sebastian was looking at it with trepidation. He brought his hand up to the one holding the vial and gently ran his fingers across hers, lowering it slightly. Her hand was shaking - her whole body was trembling - and all he wanted to do was comfort her somehow.

“Eloise, are you sure…?”

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before nodding, giving him a significant look before turning back to the Pensieve. They poured her memories in together, watching silently as their golden hue mixed with the moonlight liquid already inside.

“I’m not sure this will work,” she breathed, moving across from Sebastian as they stared at each other. With an unspoken agreement, they both lowered their heads together and before he knew it, Sebastian was experiencing Eloise’s life.

Going into a memory was just as strange and uncomfortable an experience as it had been the first time.

Oneshot:

He slips a note to her during Charms.

Dust particles are swirling in the air, Professor Ronan is unusually dull, and the hot summer sun streaming through the windows is just another reminder that they are almost free. Almost done with Hogwarts, almost ready to start the next chapter of their lives and become who they were always meant to be. She can’t deny that she’s been terribly worried about what’s to come - she still is unsure what she wants to do after graduation, and feels her stomach drop whenever she hears the others talk excitedly about the opportunities they’ve lined up; the only constant in her life is the boy at her side who has been unusually patient with her.

And yet he still hasn’t made it clear to her that she is as important to him as he is her. Yes, he is carrying her bag from class to class, reading with her every nice afternoon by the Black Lake, showing her he cares with every gesture, but still:…she can’t be sure of how he feels. What if it is all perfunctory? She doesn’t want to be forgotten. She loves the little routines they’ve created for themselves, loves sitting by his side during classes, passing notes; she’s loved her short time at Hogwarts and doesn’t want to end it yet.

The note is one of many they’ve been sending back and forth throughout the course of this terribly boring theory class, but this time is different.

His hand is resting on top of the bench between the two of them, note underneath, and were she not so in-tune to his infuriatingly intoxicating presence, she wouldn’t have noticed it. He moves with the ease of someone who has been avoiding being caught for many years. And, in the hazy memories (or are they?) she has of her past with Sebastian, the notes the two of them have sent back and forth to each other have not always been so tame.

Surreptitiously, so as not to draw the attention of Professor Ronan (she does not want a scandal), the sound of her blood rushing in her ears as she thinks about what she’s about to do, she slowly slides her hand toward Sebastian’s - the one resting on top of his note. He starts moving his hand away - he’s learned by now to not play any games - but she’s faster.

It feels like all of her nerves are located in her fingers as she grazes the back of his freckled hand. She can feel him staring at her in surprise, but she doesn’t dare look up at him.

She continues.

Her fingers flutter over his, hesitating, until she gets up her nerve and laces her fingers through his, pressing their palms together. She hears his breath hitch and warmth pools to her stomach at the sound as she finally glances at him. He’s looking at her with the most dumbstruck expression on his face and…and her own must mirror his.

She flushes and looks away, but doesn’t remove her hand - all she can think about is the feeling of her heartbeat thrumming through her body (can he feel its nervous flutter?), how right the contact feels, and how has she not done this before? But, the nerves she feels are so intense and overwhelming and she doesn’t concentrate on Professor Ronan’s words for the rest of the lesson.

Sebastian sits, flushed, notes forgotten - even as he leans into the palm of his other hand, trying to look anywhere but at her, she can feel the intensity of his gaze every time his eyes swipe over to her and it's unbearable.

But the thought of letting go of him is even worse.

Leo and @the-ozzie Bea🫶:

He doesn’t remember the first time he actually noticed her presence, but he knows there must have been a time in his life before she was hanging around. There must have been a time before Leonard Babbit was tormented by Beatrice Bennett. He’s sure of it.

She’s really quite annoying.

Like now, for example.

They’re supposed to be working on their arithmancy project. Leo bemoans the fact that they were partnered up - he’s always preferred to do all the work himself, but their professor was immune to his protests and insisted they work together.

This is how he finds himself tucked away in a quiet corner of the library with Bea, specifically chosen because it’s away from the noises of the other students: their distracting murmurs, the rough scratching of quills, the rustling of pages, the occasional outburst of quickly muffled laughter. Bea knows that he gets distracted easily, and yet there she is, twirling her quill in her fingers and letting the ink drip all over her notes, effectively destroying them.

NO PRESSURE TAGS (but I would love to read any wips if you have any to share🫶) @sloanesallow @anomalyaly @superconductivebean @kay9leo @okeydokeylackey @sav-less @writing-intheundercroft @rambling-tam @spookybriecheese @newdreamlove95 @bookie-bookdust @morelikeravenbore @whizzing-fizzbee and anyone else who might want to share!!!!♥️ I am always so bad at remembering off the top of my head😓

#hopefully this helps motivate me for the final stretch #bc I feel close to finishing ALL of them #but I don’t want to force things bc then the writing always seems strange to me #the Leo oneshot is the most niche thing ever but I really like it so far🤭 he and bea are SO CUTE !!!!#hogwarts legacy #hphl #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #eloise babbit #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #I feel like my writing’s a one trick pony sometimes but I have a lot #of fun with it♥️

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lilyflowerstories · 8 months ago

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These Violent Delights

Pairings: Jacob Black x Reader, Edward Culled x Reader

Summary: Y/N Swan is just like every other girl and she likes it that way. Normal is fantastic. Normal creates a functioning member of society. Normal is the reason she moved to a small town to live with her police officer father... only to find out that she gets the farthest thing from what she wanted. // Twilight Re-Write.

Warnings for the series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Word Count: 3.5k

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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A police car pulled up in front of you as you waited outside Seattle-Tacoma International. To think, only four months ago you were trying to purchase plane tickets for spring break. Only you wanted to go to New York with the rest of your classmates. The last place you were ever thinking of was Washington. The state, not even D.C.

And more importantly not Forks, Washington. But you promised your mom that you could handle this. The only thing worse than that small town for the entire year was traveling so much you might as well be homeschooled. When your mom remarried her now husband, Phil, he played baseball for the Phoenix team.

Phil’s good but he wasn’t good enough to be traded around. You thought your whole life would be Arizona. Until Florida called. And your sweet stepfather and lovingly erratic mother packed up everything before suddenly remembering you had school. So moving to Forks had been a you decision but you're not sure how good of a decision that was.

The car in front of you rolled down its window until you could see your dad. Charlie flashed a smile that you struggled to return. He’s great. You've spent every single summer with him and almost every one of those summers was in Forks.

But two months is a lot different from the entire school year. You knew only a few people that would be going to Forks High School. A pang hit your heart when you thought about your friends again. You guys promised to call but you'd probably fall out of each other’s lives anyway. But you tried to smile once more, putting your suitcases in the back of the police car and pulling on a thick wool sweater over your shirt and overalls.

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat, it started to rain — a stark reminder that this wasn’t Phoenix.

You could feel Charlie’s head keep turning to the side to look at you. Like your dad in more ways than one, the start to small talk was awkward for you. The two of you went back and forth in a silent dance until Charlie saved you from speaking about the weather.

“Your hair has gotten longer.”

You grabbed a piece of your now shoulder length hair. Two years ago, in the spur of the moment, you had shaved your head to start over. It was the moment after that you decided you would never do that again. Charlie had to suffer the period of you not being able to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked like an egg. It took dedication but your hair was now long and damage free.

“Yeah, I’ve tried to stop using heat completely. Except the blow dryer.”

While starting small talk might have been difficult, once Charlie and you were talking no one could get you to stop. The conversation was still going as the car passed the ‘Welcome to Forks’ sign that should have read population: too damn small instead of an actual number — and even when you got out of the car and into the house. Your room wasn’t terribly different from other summers but you noticed drawers and wardrobes that weren’t there before. You guessed when one permanently moves they suddenly need storage for their things. Charlie even cleared more bathroom space.

That was probably the one thing you hated about this house. One bathroom. Someone should have slapped the architect that ever suggested this… and then slap the builder that followed through anyway.

You only unpacked the bare essentials for the next week or so. The rest could be slowly unpacked as time went on. Charlie helped for a few hours before doing his shuffle he does whenever he’s uncomfortable. All he could say was okay before leaving the room.

Even though you two can talk for hours, he’s still awkward to his core. You supposed that you should be happy as a teenager that he doesn’t hover. He never has. You used to think it was because being a cop made him busy all the time and he just developed the habit. As the years went on, it became more apparent that it was just his personality.

A car honk right outside the window caught your attention. You looked through the glass to see an orange pickup truck and some of the only two faces in town that were familiar to you. Your feet carried you out the door before you were even aware until you crashed right into a boy with hair longer than yours, roughly your height, and only a few months younger in age.

“Woah, Y/N/N, slow down before you hurt yourself. You know you can't be trusted on your own two feet. I'm surprised you're still standing right now or is it just because I'm holding you up.” Jacob said as he gave you a smile.

“Whatever, dick."

"Whoa, Y/F/N. Language when you're standing right in front of me," your dad interjected but he didn't look that offended.

"Sorry... Hi, Billy.”

“Hi, Y/N. Glad you’re back and here to stay. Charlie wouldn’t shut up about it since you told him.”

Your dad rolled his eyes. “Keep talking and I’ll roll that wheelchair right into the middle of the road.”

“Not before I ram you in the ankles.”

You and Jacob’s dads abandoned you to play fight in the road. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“I’m glad to see they’re still behaving like that.”

“Oh, yeah. Days go by and nothing’s different. It's getting worse with old age actually, I'm convinced that's why Mom is always on business trips… So, do you like your present?”

You turned to face Jacob. “Hmm?”

He patted the truck just as your dads came back. Your eyes went wide and your lips twitched until they formed a large smile.

“Are you serious? This is perfect! Dad, you didn’t have to get me a car.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work late sometimes and thought that your personal autonomy was very important.”

He’s trying to sound like a parent that actually read the child psychology books. The why he bought you a car didn’t matter. It was the fact that he just did. A truck didn’t exactly fit your aesthetic but something about vintage ones totally did.

"Don't worry, I worked on it myself. Everything's perfect," Jacob said.

"You did this? By yourself now? Jake, what the heck. That's crazy you're doing it on your own now. Why are you so amazing?"

Before anyone could actually answer you, you whipped open the door and sat inside. You remembered this truck very well from playing in it since you and Jake were four. Billy had this thing for at least seventeen years. The first thing you noticed were the new leather seats. They were pink instead of gray. The second thing you noticed was the engine’s sound. Smoother than it had ever sounded before.

Jacob opened the passenger door, hopping in to show you how the car operated. He was a genius at fixing cars and trucks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he owned his own mechanic shop some day.

“And that’s it.” He patted the steering wheel. “If anything breaks, let me know.”

“Thank you! God, I’m so glad I have one recognizable face at school.”

“You’ve only been missed two summers. Did you already forget I don’t go to Forks?”

“Right.”

Jake, like most of the Quileute kids, went to a high school on the reservation in La Push. People weren’t as judgmental when they all shared something common. There they could wear their hair long, tell folklore stories without getting made fun of, or try speaking little words here and there of Quileute so the language doesn’t die with their great grandparents.

All things you would have loved to be part of or just sit on the sidelines and observe. Maybe you should have complained to Charlie until you went there. Now you couldn’t leech off of Jacob and had to actually make friends on your own. Disgusting.

Your sentiments didn’t change as you got in the truck and headed to school. You were assigned a parking space the moment you transferred. Unlucky you, you were stuck in the front parking lot.

So much for leaving to go get a better lunch than whatever grub they were going to serve at the cafeteria. Charlie worked too much to even think about asking him to get you something. And you couldn’t ask him to cook either. He’s not really shit at it. It's just his taste buds suck. So unless you wanted to text him a specific lunch menu each Sunday, it was Russian Roulette of lunch. That was too much work. Charlie thinks salami and grapes belong on the same piece of Nutella and butter toast.

When you finally found the parking space, after three circles around, you turned off the engine and found a bunch of eyes greeting you. Lots of them. That’s what being the new kid in a small town gets a person. The eyes stopped staring once you got out of your truck — they needed a face to match the name Y/N Swan.

“Nice ride,” a black boy in a red hoodie said as he nodded at your car.

“Thanks, just got it.”

“Cool.”

You didn’t exchange any other words before you entered the building. You stared at the paper schedule, trying to memorize classrooms and the stupid tiny map in the corner. An arm suddenly tapped your shoulder.

“You’re Y/F/N Swan, right? Our new girl.”

You turned to your right to see an Asian boy with a black polo shirt and the most emo haircut you've seen in a while. You took a double take at his outfit and then at the outfits of your peers around you. Suddenly, you were feeling terribly overdressed.

Your thrifted Burberry monogram poncho doubled as a blanket that you would inevitably need because it sat on top of a long sleeved black mini dress. Was it impractical for January in Washington? Probably. But fashion made everything work. At least you had worn snow boots.

“Yeah. It’s just Y/N by the way.”

“Just Y/N. Got it. Well, hi, I’m Eric and your eyes and ears of this place. Anything happens and I know about it. If you need a tour guide, shoulder to cry on, or lunch date then I’m your man.”

Eric made conversation naturally, no small talk in sight. Kind of like Jacob. You chuckled. “I’ll take a rain check on the lunch date but I do need to find room 33C.”

“Let me lead the way.”

He started to lead you down the hallway and to a set of stairs. “So, why move to Forks?”

“I’m not a baseball girl.”

Eric snapped his fingers. “Perfect tagline for your spread. I’m the editor-in-chief of the paper and you are front page news.”

“Oh… Just the front page right? I mean I don’t mind the paper but more than two pages and I’ll transfer.”

“Got it. Spread killed, feature only. And here’s your stop.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I’ll be back for whatever other classes you need to find.”

True to his word, Eric came back and led you to all your morning classes, including the dreaded P.E. You didn’t hate exercise. You just hated whatever wasn’t pilates or a Jane Fonda workout. Besides, you were never good at P.E. anyway. The testament to that was the gym teacher thinking you should do the volleyball exercises with some of the other girls.

You flinched as the ball came towards you. It didn’t go back over the net. Instead, it hit your calculus desk partner, Mike Newton, in the back of the head.

“Sorry!” you yelled as you sped away to hide in the locker room until lunch period.

Mike seemed to forget about it when lunch came. He talked your ear off all the way into the cafeteria. You had forgotten that a small town wouldn’t be like Phoenix. Everyone wanted to talk to the new kid. Whether they were friends or not was yet to be determined. But Mike was a gentleman. He pulled out your seat for you.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Madame.”

Eric laughed. “Mikey, glad you met my girl Y/N.”

“Oh, your girl?”

“Excuse me, my girl. We even bonded over cars,” The black boy from earlier rubbed your hair in fake affection before pulling the chair out from under Mike.

“You’re so dead, Tyler!” he yelled as they ran after him.

The two girls at your table gave a mix of a laugh and a scoff. A girl with a chunky pink headband slid over a juice carton from her tray.

“Sorry about that. It’s like kindergarten all over again, isn’t it? You’re the shiny new toy. Hi, I’m Jessica by the way.”

“Oh, almost forgot,” the other girl with glasses picks up a camera. “Smile!”

The flash blinded me for a moment. “Woah.”

“Sorry, I need some candids for the spread.”

“The spread is dead, Angela,” Eric said in an oddly defensive tone. “Don’t bring it up again… I got your back, babe.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your throat. Eric left, leaving you, Jessica, and Angela at the table. Angela set her camera down.

“Great, now what am I supposed to do about filling up the rest of the newspaper? I can’t do another editorial on teen drinking. It’d be the third time.”

“You could always run a psa on eating disorders,” you tried to offer an option. “Or um… padding on the swim team?”

The other girls looked at you and for a moment you thought you said something completely wrong but they began laughing. You caught bits of the conversation as you focused on the food: some of the guys bragging about their sizes that seemed totally fake, speedos fitting improperly, and wondering if they only pad for school pictures.

Going back to the conversation, a glimpse at the window caught your eye before you could speak. Five people walked like this school was a runway.

“Who are they?” you asked.

Jessica dropped her fork on her tray, ready to tell you everything. “The Cullens. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen’s foster kids.”

The names were ones you couldn't remember hearing while visiting over the summers. They were either new kids or never came around La Push. One thing you couldn’t deny was that they were all attractive. And the shorter girl had wicked fashion sense. She strutted by like the rest of them in her thin and flowy white maxi skirt with a chunky black sweater and heels entirely too high for you to ever try wearing. You felt almost entranced just looking at them.

“They’re all like together,” Jessica continued. “Rosalie, the blonde one, yeah she’s with the big one, Emmett. Like a thing.”

“Jess, they’re not actually related,” Angela quickly interjected.

“Yeah I know, but it’s still kinda weird that they live together, don’t you think? Anyway, the small dark-haired girl Alice is with Jasper. He’s the one that always looks like he’s in pain. The two blondes are actually siblings, Mrs. Cullen’s niece and nephew or something like that.”

“Dr. Cullen’s like this foster dad matchmaker.”

“Maybe, he’ll adopt me,” Angela said.

You chuckled. If Dr. Cullen was such a matchmaker then you’d have to tell Charlie goodbye.

“What about him?” you motioned to the last guy left. He walked ahead of his foster siblings like he was the leader or something.

“Edward? Totally hot, supposedly single. No one here seems good enough for him. Don’t waste your time. Like I care, just don’t waste your time.”

“Trust me, wasn’t planning on it.”

You knew that Jessica could have a skewed perspective. Maybe something happened between the two of them but Angela seemed to agree with her. This Edward probably was nothing but bad news and trouble.

You dared yourself to look at their table again. Your eyes squinted when you saw their trays. Nothing looked touched. When you looked up, all five of them were staring at you. You whipped your head around and didn’t dare look back again until after lunch.

Thankfully, the classes you had right after lunch didn’t have any of them… until bio class. The teacher, Mr. Donoghue motioned for you to sit at the only empty seat that happened to be next to Edward. You nodded and began moving to the chair. A chill ran down your spine and you shivered as the chill pierced your back. Edward stiffened up at the same time.

You scowled as he held his hand over his mouth and nose. You had taken a shower, put on nice perfume, lotioned, and wore nice jewelry. There was absolutely no way you smelled. His hand stayed over the lower part of his face the entire class period. Even when he had to hand over material, he pushed them to you with a pencil. The moment the bell rang, Edward was gone. Good riddance.

Mr. Donoghue signed the last spot in your slip saying you made it to class successfully and now you could give it to the receptionist. You paused in the doorway after seeing someone’s back but it was too late. The receptionist had seen you.

“Just a moment, dear.”

The person with the back turned around to reveal a troubled face. He grabbed his coat. “Never mind, I’ll just have to endure it.”

You rolled your eyes, handed in you slip and went to your truck. Edward was a total douche. Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d be seeing each other more often than you’d like. Probably more often than he’d like as well.

Charlie wasn’t finished working when school was over but had enough time for a dinner break. His friend, Waylan, brought takeout from Subway. You didn’t remember Waylan very well. He left for most of the summer each year to visit his kids and grandkids that left Washington. You all moved stuff around on Charlie’s desk to clear space so you could eat. You had a Spicy Italian sub while the two of them ate BLTs. The two of them shared a different sentiment about the Cullens when you asked them.

Unlike the kids at school, they had nothing but praise. The Cullens weren’t weird but mature and well-rounded teenagers. And Dr. Cullen was the best surgeon they’ve had… and he stayed past one year which is an accomplishment. Certain jobs like doctors and lawyers always come from out of town. Most leave after one or two years, not able to handle the slow pace of this green and gray town.

Soon, Charlie and Waylan talked in the most stereotypical old man fashion that you had actually checked out of the conversation. Your cellphone rang as you grabbed a potato chip from the small bag that came with your sandwich.

“That’s Mom, I’m gonna take this.”

“Tell your mom I said hi, Y/N/N.”

You nodded as you walked away.

✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿

The next day at school, Edward wasn’t there. You had planned to confront him and find out what his problem was when he didn’t even know you. You weren't exactly popular back in Phoenix but no one had any issues with you. Never.

However, his siblings were there. Not that you were going to approach them. Your problem was their brother not them and you weren't trying to make enemies in such a small town. You watched them walk into the building as you leaned against your truck. You turned when something hit your back.

“Y/N!”

You laughed as you looked at the Twizzler on the ground. “Seriously, Tyler? How dare you waste good food,” you said as you grabbed your bag and walked over to where the kids you met yesterday were all crowded around what you assumed was Tyler’s van.

He shrugged. “I would hardly call Twizzlers the peak of fine dining.”

You all walked inside at the start of a bell ringing. The day had been pleasant without your science partner. And the next day was the same when he didn’t show up again. And the next day until the entire week had gone by without Edward showing his face.

Your first week of school was lucky. You had missed any torrential rain. But you couldn’t say the same for that Monday. The only thing worse than rain was rain when it was below freezing outside. Your front steps were covered in ice. Your phone rang as you closed the house door.

"Hey, Jake... First week done, somewhat a success. Hey, when is Spring Break for you guys? We should totally start coordinating now if we want to try and leave town."

Despite being careful as you talked, you must have stepped incorrectly because before you knew it, your butt had gone down the last three concrete steps leading away from your door and to your driveway.

“Woah, woah, Y/N/N. Are you okay?” Charlie asked as he helped you up.

“Yeah, just fine, Dad. Ice isn’t exactly helpful to the severely uncoordinated.”

“That’s why I got new tires for you. The old ones were getting pretty bald.”

“Thank you.”

You both high-fived before getting into your respective cars and leaving. It felt like you were already used to the routine of Forks when you pulled into your parking spot and found yourself automatically going to Tyler’s van. You sat with Jessica, Angela, Eric, or Mike whenever you had class and swapped snacks with Tyler in between every morning class because your lockers were right next to each other. And the group always walked to lunch together.

“Salad or Sandwich… Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

You blinked to see Jess snapping her fingers in front of you. “Sorry.”

“We wanted to know what you wanted? The lines are backing up so we’re splitting up and tackling stations.”

“Nice, divide and conquer the cafeteria.”

“The Vikings got nothing on us.”

“As long as the only thing we’re conquering and pillaging are those sandwiches.”

“Absolutely. They might have had great hair but I'm not interested. So, ham and cheese, turkey, or those stupid cucumber ones that no one likes?”

“Hey, I like them!”

Jess laughed and walked to her designated line. Mike and you were in charge of gathering everyone’s desserts and soups. Three wanted brownies and three wanted chocolate chip cookies, four wanted tomato soup and two wanted chicken noodle. You all wanted saltine crackers. Every now and then, you looked over your shoulder at what made you stop in you tracks. Edward was back.

And your biology class was the first class after lunch.

✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾

| next |

#twilight #edward cullen x you #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #jacob black x you #jacob black x reader #jacob black #reader insert

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juicebox342 · 8 days ago

Note

I have avoided making this account for.... Genuinely, I don't even know how long...and YET it took one fanfic. One fanfic. For me to drop everything and immediately make an account because I simply cannot scream into the void about how absolutely amazing "Closed In and Terrified (Fearless and Undefined)" ((this is me aggressively shaking your shoulders with every syllable)). I have never fallen in love with a fanfic so deeply before and all of my 13 years of reading. Every single chapter had me screaming. I swear my reading comprehension time has doubled for how fast I have read this whole fic and how many times I had to cover the screen to not read ahead with the anticipation of what was going to happen next. I usually only read completed works, but something in the universe told me to not click that button today and I am so elated that I didn't. (Not to mention on the edge of my fucking seat because holy shit). I could break down every single thing in every chapter that I have absolutely loved to pieces (rip Jinu) but I don't want to end up writing you a full-length and novel in your inbox. So I will instead leave you with thank you so much and also many curses upon you for leaving me to process the Honmoon speaking to Rumi (The glitch text was an absolutely amazing touch) and specifically this fucking line that fucking unraveled me "One Passes One Follows One Unravels". (I read this line literally one minute before I had to be in a professional meeting and seriously did not think I was going to be able to hold it together). Reading this one, fic alone has been an absolute delight/heartbreak and I cannot wait to read more of it and more of your works (The writing is destroying me. The author's notes are holding me together istg you are hilarious)

Oh my god. Okay hang on this is monumental because I’m like. 90% sure that this is the first ask I’ve ever received about one of my fics. So first and foremost- Thank You So Much??? Holy Hell.

Secondly, welcome to tumblr! It’s chaos here but I adore it. And I’m So Unbelievably Honored that my fic was what made you create a tumblr lmfao. I’m kicking my feet and giggling istg.

For anyone reading this post, here’s the link for Closed In and Terrified (Fearless and Undefined)

Anyway, thank you so much for taking a chance on my fic!! I’ve poured a lot of love into it so far. And I had to lay down after writing the “one dies one follows one unravels” line. I was possessed when I wrote it I swear. My condolences about the business meeting LMFAO.

Also please feel free to leave full reviews literally wherever?? I am SO ecstatic about this message, so seriously, thank you again.

I’m still working on chapter four- if you follow me on AO3, or looked through my tumblr, you may have noticed that I posted the first chapter for a different fic- Chasing The Sun- last night. I’ve got so much in my brain at the moment. These girls make me Unwell and I’m so here for it.

Chapter four is making progress, it’s a little slow going because the heatwave in my area is triggering my pain really bad so I’m having a hard time focusing 24/7, but I’m also a bit of a perfectionist, so I wanna make sure it’s Phenomenal before I hit post, like usual. (I have a reputation to maintain, after all)

And yeah the author’s notes are kinda My Lifeline Too tbh. I try to properly warn my readers of what’s ahead, and also remind them that I’m a (mostly) normal person at the same time, and also lift spirits a little bit after the Several Bricks Being Thrown Through Windows that was my writing haha.

But seriously, thank you so much for sending me an ask, and I’m so thrilled you’re enjoying the story so far!! I hope to hear more from you!!

#i got an ask!#kpop demon hunters #my writing #fic: closed in and terrified (fearless and undefined)

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dr-entomophiliac · 4 months ago

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People who say "how can the villains be redeemed, they've killed people" and "If you relate to them you're an edgelord and/or immoral" treat fiction so literally that it hurts. This may be another MHA ramble but lately I come across this mentality so often concerning any fandom, even after quitting mainstream internet I hear about it from friends.

Typically things with no real consequences do not emotionally affect us, so it takes a ton of skill and effort to create a story that makes the audience care, and so often fiction exaggerates, dramatises and ups the stakes to achieve that.

When you take away all the deaths and the action and the dramatics, and just look at the emotion the author is speaking of, it’s almost always, consciously or subconsciously, coming from very mundane personal experiences.

Like you didn’t have to literally destroy your house and kill your whole family to find a character like Shigaraki relatable, as the emotional impact here, to me, reads not too differently from the world-shattering guilt a small kid would feel from, say, a parents’ divorce. Or the self-blame for repeatedly invoking a parent’s wrath, when in reality that was none other than abuse. World-shattering, because to a 5 year old kid, your family— Home *is* your entire world, and as far as your developing brain can tell, your misbehaving tore your Home apart. If only you could be normal, like the other kids, etc…

Which brings me to Toga who I’m pretty sure represents growing up with either a prematurely developing and/or unconventional sexuality, (plus forcibly masked neurodivergence). For example, who here hasn’t at least at one point in their life felt like they’re committing a crime tantamount to murder just for being gay? lol

The common elements in their backstories is things like self-blame for being different and going against familial or fatherly demands, and feeling shunned and misunderstood by the mainstream world. Very typical upbringing for an artist, right?? (And it’s no coincidence the author was only able to write a supportive family for Izuku by taking away the father.)

Shigaraki’s hatred plus creepy vibes may be too exaggerated and toony to relate to, but even during college (where I was promised the ostracisation would end) I remember constantly feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, and being too weird and intense for my peers like my presence alone was burdening them, so that much about him is relatable. It was just an internal feeling regardless of how one actually presents themself. But art is all about those internal feelings, I think.

That is to say, whoever shames you for finding familiarity with villainous characters, seems no different to me than the bullies from my school years. Especially if they’re applying real life morals onto fiction to justify bringing you down. (Some of said bullies clearly had something difficult going on at home too, so while being a doormat was its own issue, being able to sympathise made it easy not to take them personally). But then there were the kinds of bullies that appeared to be living in a totally different and unburdened world, and the hurt they caused was not out of pent up frustration or whatever but basic apathy. The hero side of MHA vividly reminds me of that apathy and lack of burden.

The story being changed and eventually ruined by Shonen Jump to appease the mainstream fanbase (which from my understanding does not really care about the villains getting a resolution, only punishment) ironically further highlights the real life apathy that the story was criticising in the first place. I get it if it’s kids being that majority, they have growing to do, but then I hear it from an adult my age and….yeah.

#my ramblings #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #text

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seilnakyle · 5 months ago

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I notice you posted lots of old comic panels about Dick and Babs' interactions. It was really good source materials for their superhero dynamic as partners in crime! They truly deserved their Dynamite Duo title.

And while it was clear Dick harbored feelings for Babs in their early days, it wasn't the same for her, although they've been teased romantically together a lot in old batfam comics (*coughs* the wedding panel). Maybe for the gags or something, even the writers admitted they never intended to make those two a thing (in the post crisis)

But still, Babs was much closer in age to Bruce compared to Dick who was a teenager, barely legal. (cmiiw). Babs said so herself in one of the post crisis batman comic books you posted: "I flirted with the first Robin for a while, but he was so young, Batman was the one on my mind."

This is just pure curiosity, apologies if i word it poorly. Does this mean you don't mind DickBabs original age gap? Or perhaps you take those two's out of continuity's interactions as proof of their existing love chemistry, thus predating the other ship? Just genuinely curious of your thoughts about this! :D

So I guess I’ll start with the age thing to preface that I don’t think it’s problematic to ship this version of them. When Dick and Babs first meet in Detective Comics #359, there is a pretty obvious age gap, and there is absolutely no hint of romance between the two at this point (though Robin does seem to like her immediately) and there would not be until years later when Dick is IN COLLEGE. So the age difference is Dick at 18/19 and Babs at 25 which is a seven to eight year difference. In comparison, Bruce adopted nine year old Dick in his late 20s. It makes sense to me that she would be able to relate better to an 18/19 year old than a man in his late 30s

And of course Babs was originally added to comics to be a love interest for Bruce (REALLY the whole reason for her million dollar debut was because when Eartha Kitt was cast as Catwoman, the show would no longer use her as a Love Interest, which is why Batgirl was created, and became so popular that she was added to the comics) and some writers attempted to throw in her having a crush on Bruce like from the quote you gave, but in the actual stories, there was little to no evidence of their being actual feelings between the two. Babs even says herself that she doesn’t have ANY romantic interest in Batman

Batman #197

Now you are correct that the writer of Batman Family said he didn’t intend to actually put Dick and Babs together when writing them, but (just my opinion) this isn’t really important in the long run. Stan Lee certainly didn’t intend for MJ Watson to become Spidey’s wife when he first created that character. Jason Todd wasn’t created specifically to die. And Barbara Gordon was supposed to disappear forever after The Killing Joke. Stories change, writers change, and characters change with them.

As for Babs’ side of the crush, well, I kinda disagree that it was completely one sided. Now MIND YOU, if Babs had been fully awake when Dick confessed his feelings for her, I do not think Babs would have verbally reciprocated. I think she would have reminded him of the age difference (I think she would want him to finish college first) and also again remind him he already has a gf in poor much forgotten Lori Elton lol

Now saying all this, she def still had a crush too, but she recognized that he was too young for now, and was open to other relationships. Dick would go on to have a happy long lasting relationship with Kory, and Babs would be with Jason Bard

The Batman Family #10

I do ship these versions of them, but (bc I see Dickbabs as one of the best slow burn romances in comics) I don’t really want them together until they are older and more mature.

I feel this sentiment remains the same in Batgirl Year One.

#ask box #dick grayson #barbara gordon #dickbabs #comic talk #comic panels #dc meta #comic meta #dc comics #robin #dick x barbara #dick x babs

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answer2jeff · 2 years ago

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Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.

PART 1/2.

warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)

a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!

You needed inspiration.

With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.

You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.

Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.

The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.

Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.

It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.

You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.

Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.

"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.

You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.

"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.

Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.

"Shit. Really?"

"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.

"Not really."

You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.

If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.

Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair

"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."

"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.

"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.

"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."

A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.

"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.

You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.

You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.

He changed you. You were softer, calmer.

And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.

Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.

It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.

You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.

#carmen berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #painter!reader x carmen #ugh i love this #angsty fluff #carmy is so cute i need him #sorry i haven't posted #depression is a bitch #uni is kicking my ass #like seriously #anyways yeah #enjoy this #love you guys mwah

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wei-ying-kexing-apologist · 7 months ago

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WKA's 2024 Tumblr Top 10

I was tagged in this game by @lurkingshan did it on my phone and therefore did not spend a lot of time making it look nice. But since I was just tagged in this again by @telomeke I figured I'd take advantage of the edit feature to zhuzh it up a little bit. So!

1. PhayaTharn's Informative Morning- 441 notes - Jan 3 2024

gif by @firstmix

I am so lucky that I love writing essays and that I do not do it for the notes or the clout, because this post took me like two seconds to create and was my most popular of the year.

2. Feelings Made Visible: Design Choices in The Sign essay- 409 notes - Jan 5 2024

gif by @thisautistic

I am so sad about the trajectory of my enjoyment of The Sign because I was having fun writing essays about it at the beginning. But by the end I was strongly contemplating writing a fix-it fic, though I quickly decided I did not have the brain space to write that whole thing out. ANYWAY...I really enjoyed writing this essay because lighting is my favorite part of theater performances and something I really love seeing and talking about in all visual mediums, but I have far fewer opportunities to do so in television because a lot of the time the lighting is more dedicated to looking realistic. The Sign gave me the opportunity to talk about lighting choices for the first time in forever.

3. Symptoms of a Systems Error essay- 399 notes - Feb 2 2024

gif by @dramascene

ALL THESE END OF YEAR POSTS ARE REMINDING ME THAT @lurkingshan AND I OWE THIS SHOW THE RE-WATCH WE SAID WE WERE GOING TO DO. I was definitely a little skeptical going in to this show about the premise of this man being in a video game, but it had one of the smartest uses of that setting I've seen and I really enjoyed all the subtle ways that they used the world around them to deepen the story at hand and I'm really glad so many people seemed to enjoy this essay as well!

4. Episode 10: The Couch essay- 353 notes - Apr 21 2024

Here is a great example of @lurkingshan demonstrating that I can and will take essay requests for shows I am watching. I cannot begin to explain in words the chokehold this show had on me, so hopefully ya'll will just see the fact that I wrote ten essays about only six episodes of this show as evidence of how much back rent this show owes me for living in my head. I LOVE MICROEXPRESSIONS AND CHRIS CHU DID SUCH A PHENOMENAL GODDAMN JOB WITH HIS PORTRAYAL OF WEI QIAN AND I NEED TO SCREAM THAT FROM THE HEAVENS AT EVERY GIVEN OPPORTUNITY~

5. Parallels in Unknown Episode 9 essay- 329 notes - Apr 14 2024

gif by @ueasking

It appears like Unknown fever was taking hold of a hell of a lot of us on this website considering that literally half of my most popular posts of 2024 were from this show. I think a really important aspect of this show and why I enjoyed it so much was that it was really taking its time demonstrating how much history Wei Qian has to overcome in order to take on that mental shift of viewing Wei Zi Yuan as a romantic partner instead of as his brother. Which is why I was so sad that they fucked up the sex scene in Ep 11 and did not spend as much time as they really should have cementing Qian's shifted feelings after the confrontation at the stairs at the end of Episode 10. EITHER WAY I do think the use of parallels was a really smart way of showing that recontextualization.

6. Fantasy v. Reality: The Sign Episode 7 essay- 328 notes - Jan 8 2024

I am such a huge proponent of talking about sex scenes in television not only because they are enjoyable to watch but because they are choreographed scenes that take a lot of planning and a lot of work and I think it is important to be able to see and approach conversations around intimacy on screen in such a way. Getting a chance to write about how the sex scene in episode 7 merged Phaya and Tharn's fantasies and also their lighting cues was really fun! I hope that 2025 grants me enough energy to get back on the essay writing wagon in full force because I miss doing it but also have felt incredibly uninspired by a lot of what I've seen in the BL sector the last couple months.

7. LOSING MY MIND OVER UNKNOWN EPISODE 8 essay- 284 notes - Apr 10 2024

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

So sorry to you, Wei Qian, but unfortunately you sent your brother to America in hopes he would lose interest in you and instead he came back a menace!

8. Top Five "Oh" Moments ask- 282 notes - Jan 15 2024

let this be a lesson folks that it is a-okay to ask questions if you have them. I love getting asks and I know a lot of my mutuals do as well! I really loved getting this question and being allowed to talk about my top five!

9. Unknown Episode 7 Brain Rot Moments essay- 281 notes - Apr 1 2024

Going back through these posts is fun for me because I really like seeing the different ways I have engaged in media analysis and commentary. This time it was literally just a bullet-pointed list of things that I knew were making me chew glass about this show and I still loved writing it!

10. Unknown, Ep 10: Qian and Yuan- 166 notes - Apr 26 2024

Yippe! A good old fashioned Captain Hands Scene Breakdown what a time I had!

Created by TumblrTop10

I will tag @aeternallis and @kangarew-tail-7 in this, obviously you are under no obligation to participate if you do not wish to!

#Tumblr top 10 #tag game #unknown the series #love for loves sake #the sign the series #ill tag people in the comments because this post looks weird to me #Click the links to see the posts

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goredbrain · 1 month ago

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Just another person mad about Sabrina Carpenter because I’m as online as the rest of you.

I find it weird how people act like Sabrina’s music isn’t about men and she doesn’t centre them in her songs. Sure, her fans tend to be women, but that isn’t what her music is about. In fact, she does make the man she’s lusting over the focal point, putting down another woman in the progress.

Funny how people point out she has a song called ‘manchild’ that insults men when her lyrics are:

Why so sexy if so dumb?

And how survive the Earth so long?

If I'm not there, it won't get done

I choose to blame your mom

Sure, some women do treat their sons as their amazing angels. Still, when a song is insulting a man yet she still expresses desire for him and she says his bad traits are because of a woman… You see what I mean, right? But I digress, I’ll stop cherry-picking and talk about what everybody else is.

Sabrina has built this sex-obsessed persona for herself that doesn’t receive much flack because she’s visually an innocent person. A rich, blonde white woman who constantly states she’s small, and I unwillingly know her height because she frequently says how teeny tiny she is, therefore harmless.

Her singing “I’m full grown but look like a niña, come put something big in my casita” is odd. She doesn’t look like a little girl either, but after a Lolita shoot I’m getting the impression she wants to be seen as a weak and vulnerable little girl to cater to men. She looks full grown, who is telling her this??

I’ve seen people react to others criticising her recent actions with “let’s not put down women just because it seems like we have permission” like yes, let’s treat this petite, blonde white woman with fragile hands as she can simply do no wrong. I admit sometimes we can wildly blow things out of proportion, especially when regarding women, but after witnessing one artist create a whole subculture that worships abusive dynamics and perpetuates that being a submissive, weak-willed woman that needs to know her place is peak femininity… Not all of us wants to see that again. Not all of us can write this off as satire because it’s not. If she claims it was an attempt, it was a shit poor one. Satire can fall flat. Jokes don’t always land. This is a petite, blonde and blue-eyed white woman who is richer than I’ll ever be who is referencing Lolita, which shows that she’s dipping her toes into this ‘abused woman’ aesthetic I see so many young women fall for. It’s not an aesthetic and it certainly isn’t satire. Her calling herself a ‘small little girl’ and then making repeated references to the heavily romanticised story of a grown man falling in love with a fourteen year old and seeking to corrupt her sexually isn’t a coincidence. This is intentional.

What’s satirical about reminding women that this is the position they’ve always been forced into throughout history? On their knees, submissive and supposed to take any beating their husband gives them because if you’re his wife, you’re also his property, and how else is he supposed to let off some steam after work? What would make it satirical is if she was poking fun at this dynamic, letting herself be the one in control while the man was on all fours for her. No, instead she has to crawl around like a dog and look oh so pretty while doing it. She doesn’t want to make men uncomfortable, after all. Doesn’t it speak volumes how it’s women who are complaining about this and men are quiet? Because no man is going to be made uncomfortable by this. A man will see Sabrina on the floor with her hair being pulled and look at the faceless man on the cover and easily be able to insert himself as her abuser. This will turn a man on, and once again women will have to be reminded that this depiction of womanhood – one we’ve tried so hard to separate ourselves from – is still so desirable to men.

I read a comment on her Instagram that said “this isn’t subversive, it mimics the violence it’s failing to critique” and I think that’s a wonderful summary. Her radio friendly pop music simply has nothing to do with such heavy topics, she’s using it to excite and entice those who will find it attractive. I hope after seeing this negativity she will act her age instead of the age she is pretending to be.

Link to ‘I look like a niña’: 🔗

I advice reading the rest of the post, OP shared many of my thoughts.

Link to full comparison images: 🔗

#rant #again.#most negative person in the world award goes to me!!#feminism #though I understand this is very surface level.#still #I hate Sabrina Carpenter!!!!!!#conversation #think piece #I guess?#Is being angry thinking?#angry #grrrrr #I’m unemployed let me act this way! waaah!!

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disregardcanon · 5 months ago

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thinking about how instrumental snow was in creating the modern hunger games and imagining a cousins ageswap. because you know for DAMN sure tigris wouldn't be handling things the same way

coriolanus is in his third year out of the academy. i think that he would consider joining the peacekeepers because it's "respectable" and he could make money to support them, but he worries about not being physically present with the grandma'am's deteriorating health.

he's been working multiple low-pay but semi "respectable" jobs to keep them fed and give tigris access to supplies she needs to mend clothing and work on some of her designs.

he was the top of his graduating academy class, but there just weren't enough scholarships available to him for university to be feasible. instead, he works as a librarian's assistant, para paralegal at a law firm, intern for president ravinstill who's paid only in free office coffee and future references, editing the papers of and tutoring his friends who ARE in university for favors and insight into their programs. the snows can't afford to send him to university and everyone knows that, but everyone lets him pretend like he's "weighing his options" the way that he claims.

tigris isn't as obsessed with presenting the aura of wealth at school as he is, but she's also not going to broadcast their poverty. she is, however, kind. she's not the sort of student that he was, but she has a chance. and with this hunger games project that her class is doing with a proper full ride scholarship as she prize? she could go to university. she says that she won't need it to work in fashion, but he's spoken to people in the industry. the only way to start in a position that doesn't beat you down is to come in with a degree, and he wants her to have that.

he'll keep toiling away at his semi-respectable jobs and pretend to be making progress, but if tigris were to go to university... for real? oh, that could open doors for the both of them to properly reenter society. it would start getting her connections. if, at the end of it, she was able to start making true money right out of the gate? then he could start for real.

if she's got a full university scholarship that would include ALL of her meals and maybe he could eat less and squirrel away enough money for the taxes and-

she doesn't want to be part of the hunger games, though. "i don't need it, coryo. i can enter the fashion industry without a degree. surely one of the other academy students could use the scholarship!"

"none of them would be more worthy than you."

she frowns. "well maybe i just... don't want to? it's an awful thing, coryo. you know that."

"it will happen whether or not you help. maybe you could make a difference if you did?"

so tigris signs up as a mentor, despite how little she wants to and despite sejanus's disappointment that she changed her mind about boycotting the whole ordeal. "you don't have a father to force you."

tigris stiffens, and he realizes immediately that he's overstepped. "i'm sorry, it's just. neither of us wants to do this."

"no one wants to, sejanus," she reminds him. she thinks sometimes he forgets that they aren't the only people in the capitol with any semblance of a heart.

coryo tries to help her where he can. he suggests meeting lucy gray at the train station, and tigris figures out the rose. she goes and she cries from the inhumanity. lucky spins it as tigris being such a kind, delicate girl that seeing anyone in such a circumstance would affect her, and lucy gray charms the crowd. she and sejanus work together to feed the tributes as much as possible, and coryo helps her with HER lucy gray but tells her that she has to stop being such a bleeding heart and helping the others. (she doesn't).

the deaths start and everything picks up, but no one actually gets around to writing the first paper for doctor gaul because coriolanus was the only one desperate enough to do that after arachne's death. so clemensia doesn't get Snaked and dr. gaul doesn't acquire a grooming target.

as for highbottom, he starts out cruel to tigris because he makes assumptions about her based on her family (he knew coryo as a student and thought he was just like his father), but he realizes as dr. gaul starts prompting discussion that she's not cruel like crassus at all.

dr. gaul, for her part, isn't having any lucky finding someone who's cutthroat and desperate enough to make her apprentice. no one is as cunning, self-serving and impressionable as he is. no one comes up with his ideas, and even though they have interviews, the only memorable thing they get is lucy gray in a beautiful dress tigris made for her singing her ballad acapella.

then they're in the arena, and all the mentors are chewing on their lips as more people watch the games than ever before. what if lovely lucy gray wins? we hope that lovely lucy gray wins.....

wait, they did WHAT to the runaway from two???? sejanus has his understandable reaction, but tigris is a friend who actually cares about his emotional state, so she goes to talk him through it. this means that sejanus never goes into the arena and is never in academic danger. or literal danger.

tributes are dying left and right, especially because no one had coryo's Food for Pay idea and they're starving and sick. lucy gray is clever and shrewd but without cheating she was never going to win.

we get lysistrata's post-death interview about jessup being a very good person. then the crowd is getting very restless and rowdy and dr. gaul sends out her snakes because she thinks that something! something! might finally get people jeering and interested, but the only thing that it does it make them angry.

lucky tries to interview all the mentors whose tributes died in quick succession but the kids are just so angry and tigris is crying about her dear friend lucy gray and-

it killed all the tributes. every last one, and not only are the student mentors angry, but their powerful parents are too.

no victor? you put my kid through all of this, killed some of the others, and there's not even a winner? people were only watching this thing to root for capitol kids or lucy gray. and no one gets anything? what a joke. dean highbottom comes out for an interview like "yeah bet that felt stupid. and it is! this bullshit was a class project i made while drunk and angry! and it shows!"

and dr. gaul keeps trying to defend it, to sell it- one more year, she promises, one more year and this will be worth it. new blood new ideas new SOMETHING! but without coriolanus's desperate ingenuity and willingness to play the game, there is nothing to be done.

highbottom offers the scholarship originally set aside for the victor to tigris as a sort of apology over what happened with the games and an acknowledgement that he always knew what their situation was like.

coryo spends a lot of time agonizing over how he could have helped tigris win, SHOULD have helped her win, because he knows he could have done it, knows he could have gamed the system and won the prize and-

"i miss lucy gray. i'll always miss her. but now we don't have hunger games anymore. no one else has to go through this ever again. let's be happy about that, okay?"

"tigris, i haven't been... entirely honest with you." she hasn't seen her older cousin cry since the war ended, but he's crying now. "the taxes. that was why- why i needed you to get the scholarship. so that all of our money could be placed toward that. but i was wrong, there isn't enough and-" he lets out a little sob. "we're going to lose the apartment."

"oh, is that all?" she asks, "i'll talk to sejanus. i'm sure we can convince his parents to help us. then we can pay them back with interest later!" there are so many angry, prejudiced things that he wants to say. but clearly his scraped together jobs and schemes aren't fixing this problem. maybe tigris's kindness and earnestness is what they need.

maybe he can quit the jobs that don't pay him and apply for scholarships again. he might be able to take a class a semester with the kind of money he was originally offered. he was much too proud to have taken it back then, sure he could spin his poverty as something other than it was. maintain his reputation in all things.

but now he knows that's not true. if he wants to make any progress, he'll have to accept where things are now. the point of accepting help and not looking quite so perfect.

"tigris," he says, "what do you think about having me at the university? i know it might be embarrassing, both of us in first year classes-"

she smiles as she takes his hand. "i think that sounds lovely, coryo."

"won't be embarrassed to have such an old man around?"

"you'll be distinguished," she tells him, "like the grandma'am of the uni class!" they both laugh, and maybe, just maybe, things will be better here in this life.

#tbosas #thg #tbosas aus #tigris snow #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow

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rozzebun · 3 months ago

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Who is Andre Boom Boom?: Explaining how and why he took over my life.

Since I moved accounts and became multifandom focused, I'd like to introduce everyone to the character who has been my main obsession for almost 4 years straight. He is my favorite character throughout everything I've ever been fixated on. He and the series he comes from have outlived all of my previous and ongoing fixations..

Ok so Andre Boom Boom is from the manga " Steel Ball Run. " He and his family appear as minor antagonists in chapter 15, " The Desert Born Outlaws "

I'd describe Andre's personality as being an aggressive, mean, overly confident little freak of nature who gets his ass taken out in the 2nd chapter and is inactive for the rest of the arc.. Those explosive traits combined with his complicated relationship with his family were EXACTLY what I needed to become entirely obsessed with him, and from that day forward, my attachment to him has been strong and unbreaking to the point it's starting to scare me help

I originally just thought he was very cute because of his markings and long dark hair... But after a re-read in 2021, something snapped in me and he took over. I became completely obsessed with him. I loved every single thing about him from his personality to design to his lore to his family and EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM .....

The lore and limited interactions I saw him have were enough to fuel me and my VERY detailed google doc of improvised lore + background information that I dream of turning into a comic or fanfiction one day ^_^ I'd love to get people familiar with my own personal headcanons + lore about his life and origins... Reminder these writings aren't only about him, they're about his whole family. An especially dear part of his lore I think of often is his mother, who I made a design for and created an entire background for from nothing since the only description about her given is the fact that she left her kids with Benjamin when they were very young... That's kinda what triggered all my inspiration. It really doesn't take much to inspire me lol

In 2022 I commissioned a large Plush of him for 200, and in December 2024 I purchased another smaller doll for 100 ^_^ I'm working on a harness to be able to hold my dolls like babies, but I'm sick currently so they've been home a lot ☹️☹️ I also have a lot of custom made merch including standees, keychains, photo albums, printed out pictures, and someday official merch!!! ^.^ I'm working on a shrine that'll be a showcase of all I've made of him over the years that I hope to expand for the foreseeable future 🐇🐇

Tldr:

I have an extremely intense attachment to Andre Boom Boom and love him as a son with all my heart... I've devoted a lot to him and want everyone to know just the TRUE extent of my attachment to him,,.,.

Our 4 year anniversary will be on July 21st ^.^ He truly means everything in this world to me... My attachment to him is the same as a mother's love for her baby, I would do anything for him and I'm SHAKING knowing that SBR being confirmed for an Anime means he'll be animated and talking soon.... My little angel will come home someday, and I'll be waiting with open arms when he does!!🩷🩷🩷

( Also yes I am the " Andrenation " account that keeps coming up when you search the Andre tag... I moved accounts but that has remnants of my old art + old shrine that I took down to redo )

#andre boom boom #steel ball run #sbr #shrine #custom doll

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morganski-19 · 1 year ago

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I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 20: Finale

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 19

January 28, 1970

The muscles of Rebecca’s abdomen constrict. Pushing against her organs and the air out of her lungs. Pulling her into a crunch as he knuckles cling white to the sides of the hospital bed. While the doctor waits between her legs. Encouraging her to keep going.

It doesn’t escape her that there is no one directly at her bedside. No hand to grasp as the next contraction steals away her time to breath. No partner to rub her back to ease the pain.

Rebecca Lawson is doing this entirely alone. As she has for the past nine months, and will continue to do in the next eighteen years. But as her vision burns blinding white, and the pain finally subsides, she hears a sound that pulls the strength deep in her heart.

The screams or her baby girl.

She falls back on the hospital pillows, panting the air back into her lungs. Wiping the sweat off her brow. Feeling the tired seep into her veins. The slow fade back into peace. Except for baby girl.

Baby girl just won’t quit. Screaming her way through getting washed off and measured. Little arms reaching into the air. Squirming her way into being. Eyes glued shut while her mouth stays agape with cries.

A nurse comes over and helps Rebecca loosen the fabric around her chest. While she outstretches her arms and brings baby girl close to her heart. A mix of emotions building behind her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. She’s finally here.

“Hey, baby,” Rebecca whispers. “You don’t have to cry, I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

Her hand cradles the back of baby’s head. Caressing it gently with small, circular strokes. Calming her down from the initial cries. Watching as she stretches her hands in front of her face, eyes blinking their way open.

For the first time, Rebecca looks into her daughter’s eyes. Sees the curious brown stare back at her. Already knowing the fundamental truth of Rebecca’s whole being.

Motherhood came to her at a time she would not have initially chosen. Life throwing this wrench in the way of her future plans. Reminding her of its unpredictable nature. There were mistakes, and there were successes. And then there was this. Something that most view as a gift but can be so challenging to accept.

But Rebecca was never one to be held down by life’s challenges. So she took the wrench and ran with it. Used it to build something she always wanted. It wasn’t perfect, and neither is she.

Looking here at her little girl, she knows that only one thing matters. To love this girl for all that she is, no matter what. To be the best mother she can be and try to do what’s right. Acknowledge the mistakes that will be made and learn from them. Create a space of safety, joy, and love, wherever that may be. Try to be worthy of every moment that this little girl will give her.

Because from now on, it’s just her and her little girl. Rebecca and Julie Lawson, against the world.

. . .

Present Day, July 1987

Julie lays in her bed, having not much else she can do after being diagnosed with a minor concussion. The impact of the steering wheel just enough to injure her for a week or so. Until the headache stops and she’s able to go back to life.

Alone in her dark bedroom, the only light is the sun that finds its way around her curtain. Lighting the room just enough where she can see but it doesn’t add to her headache.

All there is for her to do is think. About everything and nothing at all. Replaying the songs she knows by heart in her mind. Thinking about her story that reaches a hurdle she just can’t jump over. Wondering if it’s time to start a new one.

Writing was Julie’s escape. A way for her to leave her current plane of existence and create a new one. Stay there for a while where the issues were controlled by her mind, and her mind alone. Where everything turned out the way she wanted it to.

She hasn’t been able to write since moving into the new house. The last entry in her journal being the one she read to her mom on Christmas. Every idea in her mind fading as soon as the pen hit paper. Seeming stupid once she tried to form it into words.

In the whole of everything, life hasn’t been that terrible. The school year is over, so she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. Her friends seem to have this rotation of who’s house they hang out at, and when. Her house slowly being added to the rotation.

Steve won his case. Their custody court date is slowly incoming, and there’s no doubt in her mind that it will go well. She doesn’t hate herself for liking girls anymore. Her grief, while still prevalent, is slowly starting to fade into a distant memory.

Julie thought that if the pain of losing her mom stopped, so would the memories. The times eventful enough to imprint themselves in her mind fading with the grief. That wasn’t the case, for the most part. Those memories were still just that, memories. Coming and fading as every other one does. Bringing little sparks of joy with them. Joined by tug of pain.

There are still going to be times when Julie’s grief comes back and overwhelms her. Certain milestones where she looks out for her mom and realizes she isn’t there. Feels the crushing weight of loss and knowing that their time together had an early ending.

But. If Julie thinks hard enough, she can still feel her mom around her. Can still smell the scent of her cheap perfume in the jacket she wore every day. And not just because Julie had found the same bottle in the convenience store and brough it home. Sprays a bit every time she wants to remember.

She’d do it now if the smell wouldn’t add to her headache. Instead, she just turns her head to look at her desk. Sees the picture of her and her mom staring back at her. Smiles that familiar smile that’s formed every time she visits a memory. The one filled with happiness, tinged with sad at the corners.

Her life isn’t perfect by a long shot. It was never going to be. Perfection wasn’t something Julie or Rebecca ever strived for. Perfection in the way the rest of the world viewed it at least. Often unattainable.

Their perfect was a life worth living. Surrounded by people they loved. Julie and Rebecca against the world.

Even though it was only Julie who was taking the steps forward now. Only her to traverse this path once walked hand in hand. She isn’t alone. Her mom is still there, in the path beneath her feet. In the trees as they wave in the breeze. And the sun as it blinds her eyes.

Love never leaves. Not when it was meant to stay. When it was true, and beautiful. Rebecca loved Julie. In every way a daughter wishes her mother would. While life could put the blinders on and dampen that feeling. Deep down, Julie always knew it was fact. Knows that it’s fact, even now.

There’s a knock at her door. Each rapt echoing inside her ears. Making her wince. Steve opens it, holding the phone against his chest.

“It’s El, she was wondering if you wanted anyone to keep you company.”

Julie props herself up on some pillows. Gaging the severity of her headache. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Cool, I’ll let her know.”

A little while later, El gently knocks on Julie’s door before entering. Smiles as she sits at the foot of her bed. Resting her bag on the floor.

“How are you feeling?”

Julie shrugs. “My head hurts like a bitch and I’m bored out of my mind. But better.”

El smiles. The small braids of her hair dusting her shoulder as she moves her head. “That is good.”

“Yeah.” Julie can’t seem to break the gaze of El’s eyes. “I like your hair. Did Max do them?”

El nods, a hand coming up to play with the end of one of her braids. The faintest pink blush forming across her cheeks. Now that it’s been pointed out, Julie’s not sure how she didn’t notice it before.

“My hair is finally long enough to do things with again. I like it this way.”

Julie shifts over in her bed, making enough room for El to sit beside her. She pats the space next to her and waits for El to move. Heart speeding up as they press together. As El relaxes against her side.

“The group is talking about going to the movies this weekend,” El says. “You can come if you are feeling better.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be up to it. The doctor said I should stay away from watching tv or movies for another week.”

El fidgets with her fingers. “That is ok. Maybe another time.”

Anticipation builds in Julie’s chest. A question forming itself on her tongue. Begging to be asked. The moment where she can see if things between them could change. Or if she’s about to break everything apart.

“We could see one, after I’m better, I mean.” She tries to say it normal, but the weight behind the question persists.

El looks at her confused. “I am sure we can. Just prepare yourself for a lot of fighting over which one to watch. They cannot decide on anything.”

Julie lets out a small laugh. “No. I mean, yeah, I’ll always go to a movie with you guys. But I meant we see a movie.” She motions between the two of them. “Just the two of us.”

The blush returns to El’s cheeks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Julie dismisses. Feeling self-conscious. Turning away from El and picking at her thumbs. “If you wanted to, that’s all. We don’t have to. We can just sit through the very long argument over what movie and go with the rest of them. It doesn’t have to be,” Julie stutters to a stop when El reaches out at takes her hand.

“Just the two of us,” she finishes. Taking a chance and looking back at El.

There is this softness in El’s eyes that Julie’s never seen before. Something that makes Julie melt. Want to stay trapped in this gaze forever.

“I would like that,” El finally says. Mouth forming a small smile. “Going to a movie. Just the two of us.”

Julie’s smile matches El’s. “Ok. Good. Great. Um. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

. . .

“How’s Julie doing,” Robin asks when she clocks into her shift.

“Bored out of her mind because she can’t do anything. But feeling better about everything.”

Robin nods, hopping up onto the counter. “That’s good.”

She moves on to talking about other things. Picking classes for her next semester at community college. Starting to look at schools that can take her beyond that. Finally narrowing down what she wants to do with her life. Pick a major that she’s not only good at, but also really enjoys.

Steve’s half listening. Stuck on the idea that she could actually be leaving town. That this time next year, he’ll be helping her pick out stuff for her dorm room. Start packing up her life into boxes and bringing them to a new place. Where she won’t be ten minutes across town anymore. But an hour, maybe a day.

There’s more to this than just wanting her to stay her forever. What happens when he gets a nightmare and needs to call her to make sure she’s alive. What happens when a call isn’t enough, and he needs to feel her presence. Just to get back to sleep again. For his mind to return to normal.

A year from now, things could be different. They could be better. But he doesn’t know that. And doesn’t think it will be. Two weeks ago, he couldn’t even distinguish between his boyfriend and a Russian soldier. What’s that say about his progress?

But instead of spiraling like before, knowing that he was stuck in the same place while everyone moved on, he was trying to live in the moment more. Trying to feel better about staying in one place for a while. To find rigidity in the town that seemed to constantly change. Watch it build back into the place it used to be.

“That community college you go to,” Steve interrupts Robin. “They offer classes for everything?”

Robin shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much. Not like everything everything, but most beginner level classes and gen eds and shit. Why?”

Steve’s been thinking about what to do with the money he won. If it would be better to pay off some of his loan, or put it towards something useful. He wasn’t quitting this job anytime soon. If he did, it would be to go work somewhere else. And now, he isn’t planning on moving for a few years.

What if he used it for himself. Actually did something for him first, before anyone else. Used it to find out what he was meant to do. What his real passion was.

“I was thinking of taking some classes in the fall,” he says like it doesn’t matter. “Put the feelers out, figure out what I’m good at.”

Robin freezes. “Are you serious?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah.”

She hops down from the counter and pulls him into a hug. “Holy shit, we could be classmates again. But, like, actually like each other this time. I’m coming over and we’re looking through my course catalogue. This is going to be so great.”

The smile he makes it full of hope. “Yeah. So great.”

. . .

August 1987

“How old are you, Mr. Harrington?” the judge asks from where he is residing behind the stand.

“Twenty-one, your honor,” Steve responds.

The judge marks something on his note pad. “And you have a full-time job, a home under your own name?”

“That is correct. I am the manager at Family Video and recently bought a house.”

He knows that it’s the judge’s job to ask these questions. To prove that he’s fit to look after Julie. But each time the judge takes a second to look at him too long, or write something on his notepad, Steve gets a chill down his spine. Knowing that something could stop this from happening. Cause Julie to have to find somewhere else to live.

Steve didn’t want that. Julie didn’t want that. He can almost hear her picking at the skin around her thumbs behind him. Pulling at them until they start to bleed.

“And that is the same address you have listed here?”

Steve nods. “Yes.”

There are more questions about him. How the finances have been and his home life. Wondering if he’s going to be bringing people in and out of the house. Implying that Steve has some kind of a night life that he does not. He defends himself, lying that he’s taking a break from dating. That he would never bring anyone into the home that he doesn’t trust.

“As you know, Julie is a bright young girl. College bound. You will have the option to provide that for her, Mr. Harrington. There is not much time for you to do that.”

Steve can’t avoid the sting every time the judge calls him Mr. Harrington. It sounds so much like his father that it makes him sick. But he is still tied to that name, so it will follow him. He can’t focus on how that makes him feel right now.

“I am aware of that,” Steve starts. “I recently was just granted a sum of money, some of which I am going to use to further my own education, but the rest will be going into savings. Which I will start to grow in the case that Julie needs my help when she goes to college.”

“In the case of,” the Judge presses. “While not a requirement, it would be expected of you to help her pay for schooling.”

Steve glances to Sarah behind him. Silently asking her if it’s ok to disclose the information kept in Rebecca’s will. The trust made in Julie’s name, that she doesn’t know about. No one other than Sarah knows.

She nods, giving him permission.

He clears his throat. “That has, actually, already been taking care of by her mother. The savings that she made before her death have been transferred to a trust that Julie will have access to once she turns eighteen.”

“What,” Julie says behind him. Steve turns to see her shocked expression. “I didn’t know that.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” Sarah cuts in. “It was supposed to be kept a secret until you turned eighteen.”

The judge hits his gavel. “I understand the questions that arise with this information, but could we please get back to the matter at hand. Thank you.”

The courtroom goes quite once more.

“Miss Lawson, could you please come sit next to your brother.”

The door squeaks as it opens and swings back shut. The chair dragging along the floor as Julie takes the seat next to him.

“You are turning eighteen in about half a year, Miss Lawson. Why go through this process so close to when you become a legal adult.”

Julie clears her throat, looking down at her hands. “When my mom died, I thought my world had ended. It was always just me and her. I didn’t know who was going to look after me anymore. I didn’t know what family I had left. But then I met Steve.”

She looks up, giving Steve a small smile. “I didn’t know I had a brother until shortly before my mom died, and when I learned about it, I wanted nothing to do with my father’s family. Then life happened and I decided that Steve deserved to know. And it gave me a chance to have a family again. That’s why I wanted to do this.”

“What about you, Mr. Harrington?” The judge turns to Steve, a knowing look in his eye. Steve can tell that the decision has already been made. “Why are you here before me today?”

“The same reason,” he says simply. “My whole life I wanted a sibling, someone to share the empty house I was left in all the time. Julie gave me a chance to have that. She became part of the family I always wanted, and I am so thankful for that.”

The judge nods, asking them both to stand.

“I have reviewed the information given to me and have decided. There is no outstanding reason as to why I should object to this. Mr. Harrington has already proved that he is able to provide for Miss Lawson until she reaches eighteen. With the money that Miss Lawson’s mother left for her after her passing will help with expenses after that. I hereby grant Steve Harrington with permanent guardianship of Julie Lawson.”

The courtroom starts to dissipate after the judge’s ruling. Steve turning to Julie with a feeling of disbelief. He can’t believe that it was just that easy. There was this feeling in his gut that was telling him that something would go wrong. That he’s been winning too much lately. Something was about to come crashing down.

But instead, Julie smiles back. Pure joy filling her face as she starts to laugh. They did it.

. . .

Julie chucks her soda into the trash can as her and El leave the movie theater. The two talking and laughing as they walk back to the parking lot. Hands brushing as they walk, tempting Julie to reach out and take it. Wondering how big the risk really is.

The thing about dark theaters is that no one cares what’s going on when the lights go out. All that matters is eyes glued to the screen, not if two girls are holding hands. Even if Julie locked her fingers with El’s out in the open, it could just be seen as two friends walking down the street. As long as they kept it friendly. Any other affection and they could run the risk of being found out.

She’s still getting used to this whole idea. That one wrong move and people would figure out this intense secret of hers. Treat it like it’s the worst thing in the world, even though it’s definitely not. It felt that way at first, but it’s not.

Now, the intense rush of emotions makes Julie’s heart stutter as El’s nose scrunches just slightly as she laughs. As El grabs Julie’s hand and swings their arms as they walk to her dad’s car. It makes her question how anyone could think this feeling was wrong. Or that this relationship is any less than one between straight people.

If this is even a relationship.

Since a few weeks ago when Julie first asked El on a date, things have been different. Seats scooched slightly closer to one another, hands finding each other under blankets during movie nights. Private jokes whispered into each other’s ears and sharing secret smiles. The air between them shifted to something beyond friends. But it was still somewhat the same.

Julie wonders where this is going to go. If the night will end with her and El deciding that this was a terrible idea. Going back to being just friends and nothing more. Or if this shift in energy will only bloom into something more. Something so much deeper than Julie’s ever experienced.

“How was the movie,” El’s dad asks as he drives them back to her house. Breaking the almost awkward silence between the front and back seats.

“It was good,” El smiles. “Very funny.”

She looks at Julie, making a motion to imitate one of the parts of the film. Connecting it to one of her jokes back in the theater. Sending Julie into laughter.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Very funny.”

Hopper whispers something under his breath. But there’s a small smile hiding itself on his face. Julie doesn’t know how much he knows. Something just tells her that he approves of this on some plane. Whether as friends or something more.

Julie says hello to Mrs. Byers on the way in, following El to her room. They sit on El’s bed, falling into conversation. Julie constantly overthinking the mood of the room. Overthinking every touch, every moment, every word. Wondering if this is the time to do something more. Or to pull away. Stopping this before it all crashes and burns. Preventing herself from taking this risk.

“As soon as it comes out on VHS, we have to show it to the rest of the group,” El comments. “They would find it so funny.”

Julie shrugs, “I guess so.”

“It is kind of like our group. Kids and their babysitter going on a big adventure. Getting into trouble. That is basically our life.”

The irony of picking this movie makes Julie laugh. Finally knowing some context of how they all met before Julie came into the mix.

“You know, Steve told me of some that happened,” Julie says before thinking. Stupidly slipping the moment into a much darker topic. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

El’s demeanor changes. She curls into herself. Playing with the hem of her shorts. “Did Max tell you what I asked her to? About my life before my dad adopted me.”

Julie nods. “Yeah.”

“How much of it?”

“Just that you were in a really bad place before and had to escape. That it was the same lab that caused all of those other people to die in ’83 and ’84.”

El nods. So sad that it makes Julie want to wrap her in a hug and never let her go. Protect her from anything that makes her look like this. She slowly removes the bracelet from around her wrist, revealing a small tattoo. The number eleven.

“This is the real reason I am called El. I was number Eleven, it was my name when I escaped.”

Julie carefully reaches out and holds El’s wrist. Taking a closer look at the tattoo. Feeling the weight of knowing this in her hands.

“There were other children there too. We were all numbers. Until I was the only one left.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Julie assures when she sees a tear trail down El’s cheek. Fighting the urge to wipe it away. “I’m sorry I brought this up in the first place. I wanted tonight to be a good night.”

El’s smile returns to her face. Still painted with a tired sorrow. But the joy sparks at its edges. “It is ok. I wanted you to know. I feel safe when I’m with you. And tonight,” she looks down at her wrist, Julie’s hand still holding it gently. “It was a good night. A very good night.”

The slight blush returns to her cheeks. Almost embarrassed. A piece of her hair falling in front of her eyes. Julie wanting to reach out and tuck it away.

“Good,” Julie says awkwardly. “It was a good night for me too.”

“I have never been on a date with a girl before. Only with Mike and I was not allowed to go on any dates like the one we had today. It was nice, very nice.” El tucks the strand of hair behind her ear.

A date. Julie can’t help the flush that rises to her cheeks. She knew what this was, but still. Hearing El be the one to say it solidified what it was. Reassure that this wasn’t all one sided.

She huffs a laugh, trying to sound normal. “Well, that’s good.”

It sounds so repetitive when she says it. Like no other words can form in her mouth. Stuck on a loop. But El moves closer and all her brain can tell her is good. Good as the nerves make their way to her fingers, shaking as they lock with El’s. Good as the mood shifts away from the sad and into anticipation. Like something is going to happen but Julie can’t tell what it is.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” El springs up from the bed. Breaking the tension. She walks over to the dresser and rummages through the small basket sitting on top of it. Returning with something closed in her fist. “I want you to close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

Julie does so, tentatively. “Ok.”

She feels El slide something onto her wrist. Feather light touches as she positions it and pulls it taught. The touch leaves and the bed dips beside her again.

“Ok, you can open your eyes now.”

Julie looks to her wrist, seeing a braided bracelet tied around it. “It’s pretty, thank you.”

“You are welcome. I have been meaning to make you one for a while now because everyone else has one. It was meant to be a friendship bracelet, and it still can be. But we are not exactly just friends anymore.”

“Not if you don’t want us to be.” Julie turns to look at El, their faces closer than she was expecting them to be.

That tension picks up again. Along with the nervousness melded with excitement in her chest.

“I want us to,” El rushes out. “If you want us to.”

“Can I kiss you?” Julie whispers. The question already answered in her mind weeks ago, but never said allowed. Sometimes actions were better than words.

El nods. Leaning forward as Julie’s lips press into hers.

. . .

Steve sits on his couch watching the kids bicker over what movie to watch. Eddie pressed between him and the edge of the couch. The two already preparing to have to make space for some of the kids when they finally figure out a movie. Robin and Nancy doing the same, crammed together into one armchair.

It still surprises him how they all continue to cram into his house. Almost refusing to use any other space that might be more accommodating. Where they might actually have a seat that’s not some old pillows on the floor. Where, even then, they won’t have to sit closer than they want to in order to fit.

But time and time again, they continue to come over to Steve’s. Eat his food and use his tv. Bother him in ways that don’t really bother him, but they’ll never know that. Continue to show him that it was never the things that he owned that made his home special. It was him.

Time, after time, after time, they continue to flock to his house because he was the one who made it. It was him that made sure they were all fed and taken care of. Him that helped them through troubles and picked them up from school. Him who made sure that no matter what, this was a space free of judgement that they could just be themselves.

It’s shown with the way that Eddie’s able to sink into the arm Steve has thrown across the back of the couch. Seen in the way that Robin and Nancy whisper to each other while playing with each other’s fingers. Seen in the way that El holds Julie’s arm, pressing her cheek into her shoulder. Seen in the way that Mike continues to stare at Will and starts to inch closer, actually trying to do something about it all.

“Move in with me,” Steve whispers to Eddie sometime during the movie. Having wanted to ask that question for months now.

Eddie turns to look at him, confusion and shock mixing his emotions. “Yeah?”

Steve nods, smiling a stupid smile he doesn’t care about hiding anymore. “Court cases are done, school’s starting up again. It’s the perfect time. If you wanted to.”

“Of course I want to,” Eddie says with all the whispered dramatics in the world. The love he has in eyes ever present.

Taking a quick glance to make sure no one is looking, Steve closes the gap between them for what was supposed to be a quick kiss. That is until the kids starting gagging and booing. Making them prolong it to further their discomfort.

“You ask him?” Julie asks while helping him pick up discarded paper plates and cups. A knowing smile already on her face.

“Yeah, I asked him.”

“Took you long enough.” She punches him gently in the arm before heading off to bed.

What started as a stranger on his doorstep adding more uncertainty to his life, turned out to be the best thing that’s happened to him in a while. A sister, family, coming into his life and showing him that he had a chance to take it for himself. Change the way he was living to finally be happy with it. Completely and utterly happy with it.

This house was never meant to be Steve’s endgame. This town was never meant to be it either. But these people, this family, this home, he will travel with it until the ends of the Earth. Until the ground splits in two again and swallows them all whole. Until shit hits the fan and he has to pull his old nail bat out of retirement.

Steve doesn’t know what his future holds. What career he’s going to find himself in a year, in five. Where life will carry him after Hawkins. But if he’s sure of one thing and one thing only, he’s sure to never, ever let it go.

. . .

January 28, 1988

Julie heads into the house after school, ready to get changed out of her work clothes before heading out again. The group meeting at the local diner to celebrate her birthday. She slings her apron into the hamper when she notices something on her desk.

Sorry I couldn’t be here for your birthday, we’ll do something tomorrow. This came for you in the mail. Call me if you need anything. Have fun!

Steve

She rips off the post it and tosses it in the trash, looking at the envelope. She tears it open taking out the papers inside. On top is a letter from Sarah, the words causing her to sit down as she frantically reads the words.

It’s all the paperwork that she’ll need to fill out to transfer the money from her trust to her. All of the savings her mom set up for her for college. So she can finally make a decision about the growing stack of acceptance letters on her desk.

Looking at this amount, that decision won’t be hard. She can pretty much go to any of the schools she applied to with this money.

All this money, every payment, almost every cent must have gone into this account. This is money that could have changed their lives. Could have gotten them out of the trailer and into a house. Maybe stopped her mom from having to work two jobs just to keep afloat.

There was almost one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in this account. Doing the math, around seven hundred and fifty dollars a month for the seventeen years her mom was paid. All of it saved for her future.

Underneath all the papers that she can’t even think about looking through right now, there’s one that doesn’t look like the rest. One that’s on lined sheets of paper ripped out of a notebook. Recognition hitting Julie almost instantly.

It’s a letter from her mom.

She slams the letter onto the desk, hiding it among the rest of the papers. Unsure if she wants to read it now. Knowing that she has to leave soon to get to dinner. Not knowing how it’s going to affect her.

Deciding to save it for after dinner, Julie forces herself out of the chair and heads to her closet. Pulls out some clothes and gets changed, grabbing her keys on her way out the door. Trying to push the letter to the back of her mind. It works for a while, but every time the conversation stutters, her thoughts are drawn back to the paper hiding on her desk.

She really wants to know what it says.

El grabs Julie’s hand under the table. Giving it a gentle squeeze to silently ask if she’s ok. Julie nods, promising to tell her about it later.

The dinner ends and Julie drives El back to the house. Grabs her hand and leads her to the bedroom. Pulls the letter from underneath the stack and sits with it on her bed. Staring at the first line, unable to read more.

“It’s a letter from my mom,” Julie finally says.

El wraps an arm around Julie’s. “What does it say?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t read it yet.”

“Do you want to?” El presses her cheek into Julie’s shoulder, grounding her.

Julie bites at her lip. “I do. I think a part of me is scared too though.”

“I’m here for you. Whenever you are ready.”

Julie takes a deep breath. Holding the letter closer, finally reading what her mom has to say. “Here goes nothing.”

My dear Julie,

I know what you’re probably thinking. I’m insane for putting all of this money away for you, not using even a little bit of it for myself. Or for you now. And I did every now and then. You kept growing so fast and I couldn’t keep up. Sometimes I needed to use a little just to make sure you had clothes that fit. Or for holidays.

But the point of it all was that this money was for you. I didn’t need anyone else to help raising you. I didn’t want to take the money in the first place. Until I realized that this money could help you get the life you always dreamed of. That I always dreamed for you.

You are so smart, Jules. And so creative. I loved every story you ever wrote to me. Cherished each one. Not just because I’m your mom, but also because they were just that good. You have a gift to write like that. Never lose it.

After today, this money is yours. You can do whatever you want with it. Go to school, travel the world, move out of this town, I don’t care. Just make sure to come visit me every so often. There will always be a place for you in my heart and my home.

Whatever you do, just promise me that you’ll enjoy it. Promise me that you’ll never lose that spark in your eyes that you get when a new idea comes in your head. Promise me that you never lose your laughter, or your sense of humor. Promise me that you’ll take life by the reigns and lead it straight into your sunset.

Your future is bright, Julie. Let this be my greatest gift to you, the first steppingstone in your independent life.

You’re going to do great things one day. I know because you are already doing them now.

I love you to the ends of the Earth. To the moon and all the stars. It was an honor to see you grow into the woman you are today.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I hope my tears didn’t stain this paper too much. You know me, forever a sap.

A wet laugh escapes Julie’s mouth. Tears adding to the small rings at the bottom of the page. Fingers grazing over the last line. Over and over. She eventually sets the paper down next to her. Careful not to crumble it as she collapses into El. As the sob she’s been holding in all day breaks free.

The next morning, Julie wakes up with her arms still tight around El. With the tear stains still imprinted onto her cheek. Mouth dry from all the crying.

She sits up, finds the letter placed gently on the nightstand. Clicks on her small lamp and rereads it. Over and over again.

These are the last words Julie will ever hear, or read, from her mom. Written however long ago, Julie doesn’t even know. But it was without the knowledge of what would come. How their ending would be.

Sometimes endings aren’t as conclusive as once thought to be. Sometimes, an epilogue is added that is heart wrenching and makes the reader question when the end really is. Pulls the heart string one last time as the book finally comes to a close.

Then, endings form new beginnings. Each chapter ends and starts another. New conflicts arise and fall into resolution. The plot keeps moving as the pages turn. As time moves on.

As far as final chapters go, Julie thinks this is a nice one. Filled with just enough loose ends to keep the reader interested in a sequel, but tying up the ones that really matter. A sense of closure forming in her chest. A readiness to step right into this new chapter. The letter fitting as perfect set up.

El stirs, scrunching her eyes closed with the light. Julie laughs a little, reaching across to turn the light off.

“Sorry.”

“It is fine,” she blinks. Pulling herself to sit next to Julie. “Reading it again?”

Julie nods. “It was a lot at first, but it’s really comforting to have this. To know that she loved me enough to plan this all out for me.”

“She loved you so much, I believe that.”

“I think she would have liked you,” Julie smiles. “I think she would have liked us.”

El smiles back, the sleep still pulling at the muscles in her face. “I wish I could meet her.”

Julie presses their heads together. “Yeah, I do too.”

A fist slams against the door. Startling them apart. “Breakfast is ready,” Eddie yells through the door.

Julie rolls her eyes. Him having done this every single time El has stayed over. “You can ease the wakeup call, you know. It’s getting old.”

“No, I think I’m going to keep doing this until you both graduate college.”

The both of them roll their eyes as they make their way out to the kitchen. Steve and Eddie bickering not so quietly while plating the eggs. Shutting up just for a second when they enter the room. Until it picks up again while they eat.

Julie can’t help but laugh, sharing small glances with El across the table. There’s this warmth in this house that she thought she’d never feel again. A space that is her own. A home to come back to. Where love radiates through the walls.

While the circumstances were those that she would not have picked willingly, this was still something she didn’t want to lose. This family she’s apart of, this life she has, it’s more than she could have asked for after the accident. It’s more than she ever expected to happen after tragedy.

But it did. And this life that she’s got left, this family, this home, she’s doesn’t want it to change. She doesn’t want it to leave. Hoping that it follows her to the ends of the Earth. Love her to the moon and all the stars. Because she knows that wherever her mom is looking down at her, it’s what she would want too.

Deep in her heart, she knows.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #julie lawson #original female character #el hopper #steddie #long lost/secret sibling au #i don't know which way's home fic #el hopper x original female character

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