#a reminder that after a whole year of not being able to write or create much at all

[jayden-killer]

Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!

☆

Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,500 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a… "Child?" The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!" With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least. "Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where he was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes. "It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied: "Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!" "I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply. "Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse. I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it. "Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back. "HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands. "What the f...?!" "You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

[araminakilla]

Regarding Death Wolf...

Hear me out (NO, it's not the kind you are thinking)

We know Death has a job, right? To collect souls and most likely release them to the afterlife.

And for this job, he has to be there when somebody is about to die, as demostrated with him being there moments before Puss' eight death.

Supposing he is THE Death and he has been doing this since the beginning of time (or at least when there were enough stories of the Grim Reaper to adquire a physical form) that means he has seen a lot, A LOT of awful things.

Murders, suicides, massacres, death of infants, people who didn't deserve to die alone, animal cruelty, some other heavy stuff I won't mention here, etc etc etc.

And we thought "man, how is he able to cope with all of that? That job has to be utter torture for someone."

Probably many of you could think that he is able to do that because he is Death, and he was "born" with that purpose and only him can reap souls perfectly.

But while he is a force of nature, he also WAS a force of nature. Let me explain it well: He adquired a personality enough to be angry, excited, frustrated, amazed, happy, among other emotions.

While he has supernatural power and is most likely the most powerful being in the Shrek Franchise (or in Dreamworks as many say) he is also a PERSON.

Someone with a code of honor, morals, opinions, beliefs, etc.

Returning to the question "How can he bear all of that?" taking into account he is no longer an inevitable force, but a character of his own.

The answer is something you may relate to, and that is: Creativity and escapism.

To be the embodiment of Death, the guy is a very creative fella.

First of all, his design. I heard many people saying here and in Twitter that his design is something they would come up in their edgy, teen years of drawing their first fursona.

Guess what? They are right, the wolf form is someone's fursona. It's DEATH'S fursona. He clearly came up with this badass, piercing canine form to blend with the Fairy Tale Land assuming the form of the "Big Bad Wolf". He most likely had other forms he designed over the centuries and was able to present as them like if he were on a role play game in the living world.

His sickles? The weapon of choice with the little crossed cats on it to have a bigger effect of terror for Puss? Those who can become knuckles and join to create a scythe? Those are his creation, probably after thinking it for a while and writing all of those functions on a paper.

The way he presents himself? In the bar? The coins in his eyes as a "watching you" sign while being a cool reference to the Ferryman of souls? He transforming Perrito's forest into the background of a skull? The chilling reveal at the Cave of Lost Souls? The fire ring? It was all him.

As for the escapism part...

When the world becomes too heavy to deal with as real life issues tend to make us feel bad, depressed, angry... we tend to escape it somewhere. And in our time the common place would be the internet as in webpages or comics, stories, etc.

But what has to do with Death Wolf you may ask?

Well, while he would NEVER be able to escape his job entirely, he can have moments where he can enjoy a good hunt of people who don't appreciate life, like the whole plot of the Puss in Boots sequel could demostrate.

He managed to have a little time outside his eternal routine to chase an arrogant cat who took life for granted. He enjoyed it, it was thrilling, it was exciting.

It was a way to escape a monotonous, grim "life", if just for a short moment.

So, when the chase ended as his prey no longer feared him and now was ready to fight for his last life, the wolf retreats, happy for Puss' character development but resigned because he once again had to return to "The Eternal Duty"

And that's not even counting all the times Jack "I'm dead inside" Horner had to interrupt Lobo's hunt and remind him of his job even in his "spare time"

Death knew the chase had to end eventually, but he didn't want it to end.

He didn't want to return to his own world

And if we look at Death like that, then he is probably one of the most relatable characters Dreamworks has ever make.

In the Shrek Franchise:

Monsters can be loved

Princesses don't have to fit the perfect standards of beauty

Handsome guys can be possesive jerks

Love at first sight doesn't work like one would think

Happily ever afters had to be built and not just obtain them with magic

And Death is the most creative and "full of life" being in the world

Because he would absolutely go crazy with his life/work if he wasn't.

Because in a world of Kings, Poets and Soldiers, he's the Supreme King

And he's also a perky goth but none of you are ready for that conversation.

[descendant-of-truth]

Y'know, it occurs to me - Movie!Sonic has a lot more in common Shadow than any other version of Sonic that I know of, and that creates a unique storytelling opportunity that wouldn't have been possible before.

Because originally, Shadow having a dark and traumatic backstory was what separated him from Sonic. Their similarities came out more in their confidence, their playful attitude, and even their withdrawn demeanor (though Shadow's is more extreme). Sonic's genuine ability to be carefree and optimistic was his biggest difference from Shadow.

In the movies, Sonic is... not nearly as put-together. Just like Shadow, his personality is shaped almost entirely from the result of tragedy. Both of them had to watch their closest family member get shot trying to save them from raiders (who were specifically targeting them for their powers) by sending them to Earth. The difference here is that, for Shadow, this event is fresh in his mind, while Sonic's had ten years (give or take) to accept what happened and move on.

Except, there's more, because losing Longclaw is itself not the main thing informing Sonic's character - it's the fact that he spent those next ten years in near-total isolation. Also similarly to Shadow, he took the last words his family said to him very seriously, and she told him to stay hidden no matter what. Combine that with the natural fear of what being found did to Longclaw, and the majority of Sonic's life has been spent hidden away, looking out at the world but unable to participate in it.

Remind you of anyone?

(I swear if the movie doesn't make a point about this parallel specifically I'm gonna lose it)

Normally, Sonic is a silly and upbeat character because that's just how he is by nature, and the feelings he keeps to himself are rarely detrimental to his health. In the movie universe, Sonic is silly and upbeat because he needed to be that way in order for his life to be bearable.

His constant chatter isn't quirky for the sake of it, it's a habit he developed out of necessity because there was no one else to talk to. He compulsively needs to fill the silence because not doing that would only reinforce how alone he was, and it's something he can't shake off even when he's not by himself anymore. His primary method of handling his feelings is to ignore them until they literally explode out of him with lightning firing everywhere.

All of this to say, a Shadow meant to be a foil to this Sonic is going to look very different from the Shadow we're used to. From what little about the movie's events have been described as of writing this, I'm inferring that Shadow's actually going to be a lot more open about his motivations for revenge than he was in the game, and that puts Sonic in the very interesting position of being more closed-off than Shadow.

Because sure, he might try to connect with Shadow's pain like he did with Knuckles. But because Sonic and Knuckles's history was so directly connected, they didn't really have to... talk that much about it. Sonic could acknowledge that they both lost their families a long time ago without having to go into detail about it or the aftermath. And because it had been so long since it happened, it was a lot easier for them to put it behind them and move on.

Shadow can't do that, because for him, Maria was lost very recently. He's not going to accept "you can move on and find new people to care about" as an option, and Sonic can't very well tell him to just ignore it like he did, either. Shadow isn't going to do the whole repression shtick.

For the first time, getting through to Shadow may just depend on Sonic being able to acknowledge his own pain, first. After all, how's Shadow supposed to interpret Sonic, if not as some random guy with a perfectly happy family and an obnoxiously happy attitude telling him that he needs to just, get over what happened to him? How can that come across as anything but naive and shallow without understanding how much Sonic suffered to get to this point?

(It's still a little naive and shallow even with that in mind, but the reason for that isn't because he has no perspective on what experiencing a violent tragedy is like - it's because his only known way of handling it is to leave it in the past and Not Think About It)

Though I do wonder if there's room for Sonic to initially clam up on his emotions even more after meeting Shadow for a bit? Like, he learns to some extent what happened, and is like "aw jeez if this is what could happen if I let myself be more upset about my lot in life then I REALLY need to reign it in" which is the exact opposite lesson he needs to learn but would be really interesting to watch

Point being, I think Sonic and Shadow are being set up as even more like mirrors to each other than usual, and I can't wait to see what they do with that potential

[answer2jeff]

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.

[morganski-19]

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,

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[jimblejamblewritings]

Our Violent Delights Will Not Have Violent Ends: The Twilight Saga Rewrite (Book 1, Twilight) | Part 1.

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. \\ This is a re-write of Twilight. Basically if I had been Stephenie Meyer and wrote Twilight. I will be combining some of the movie and book and the pace will be more like the movies. Not terribly high word count like the books. We might equal one book's word count when we finish doing all four of them. Hope you enjoy!

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

Warnings for the Chapter: none

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader, Jacob Black x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: If there are "I" written anywhere in the story, please let me know. I'm posting this story on Wattpad in the I form so I might forget to erase one or two here. Enjoy being casted in the feature role of Bella Swan. Let's go:

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 we 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," 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 me a car didn’t matter. It was the fact that he just did. A truck didn’t exactly fit my 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 Bella 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 my 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 my 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 my 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 myself 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 you 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 my 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.” 

We 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.  

(part 2) ...

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[reidwitchsblog]

My Ticci Toby HC

Warning: 18+ content, mention of dead animals, mention of people’s death, mention of scars, wrong use of punctuation marks.

Author’s note: While I take my sweet time writing the second part of my fict, enjoy this little headcanons that have been on my mind.

Author’s note 2: I created this playlist that basically captures everything you need to know about the way I hc him.

Minors DNI.

PERSONALITY

His personality is, for a lack of better words, eerie. Most of the time he is silent and observant, and due to his past he doesn’t show his true personality often, but rather he morphs into a person that he thinks the others will like, it could be a mature young man, or a sarcastic little shit.

I believe that when he kills, he tortures his victims due to the fact that the concept of pain is foreign to him. He enjoys to try different torture methods

His biggest desire is to have a home. It is something he keeps a secret from others, not really because he is afraid of being made fun of, but rather because he feels that as long as no one knows, the fact that it’s never going to happen will hurt less. So he keeps that deep inside him, in a safe place, like a little photograph that he can take out and look when he is feeling down.

As much as he despises being angry (it reminds him of his dad), he can’t help it, he is his father’s son after all. When he gets mad, his first instinct is to bear his teeth and growl. And if the person he is fighting with doesn’t take the cue, he will attack, aiming for the throat as soon as he has the opportunity.

And talking about dogs, HE LOVES LIKE A HOUND DOG, once that he catch a scent that is appealing to him, there is nothing, and no one, that’s able to stop him. He is going to chase it until he has it in his maw, without very little regard as to whether he is hurting himself.

PHYSICAL

I see many people saying that my man is the shortest one out of all proxies, but, respectfully, I think they are wrong. He just gives me tall man vibes, HOWEVER, I think his poor posture makes him stand at 6’0, when he normally is 6’2, which comes really handy when he wants to scare his victims.

We all agree that he has the most beautiful light brown eyes, they are like pools of honey, warm and inviting, which contrast massively with the scowl he seems to permanently wear.

Although he is more on the skinny side, he has gained some muscles over the years due to all the physical work he does; chopping wood, running around, carrying his victims… sadly he covers them with either flannels or grandpa sweaters.

Still on the topic of grandpa sweaters, he looooves them, mainly because they remind him of his late sister, whose last Christmas present were two brown and green sweaters. His to go outfit is a short sleeved band shirt, a flannel, a pair of dark denim jeans, his old shearling jacket and and a pair of black Converse. When he is alone is his cabin he opts for a wife beater and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

His whole body is covered in scars, most of them being self inflicted, and fewer being the ones made by his bravest victims that naively thought that a knife would’ve stopped Toby from killing them. He doesn’t hate them per say, he even thinks some of them are cool, but in the coldest nights, when he is alone with his thoughts, he can’t help but to despise every single part of his body, including his scars.

RANDOM HC

He has a small collection of various trinkets hidden in a wooden box beneath his bed. Some of them are old photos with his sister, rocks that he thought they were pretty, keychains that he stole from different gas stations, etc. At first glance it would look just like a pile of crap, but I can assure you everything has a reason to be there.

He was born in Germany but moved to South Carolina when he was 5.

He enjoys listening to music, his favorite genre is old rock. The Rolling Stones, Queen, Van Morrison, Fleetwood Mac, Bon Jovi, Blondu… his favorite song is “Brown eyed Girl” and you can’t change my mind.

He is the softest person when it comes to animals, he feels so bad when he finds any dead animal near the road, and he always gives them a proper burial, he even says some words along the lines of “the world was cruel to you when all you wanted was some warmth”. He so cried with the poem about spiders.

⋆｡°✩ — ©️ reidwitchsblog, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.

[peakyltd]

Changes

John Shelby x Reader

A/N: I was supposed to finally finish chapter 5 of New Endings (I promise it’s almost there) but it didn’t really work out the way I wanted and I'm stuck on such a little part so instead I wrote this. Don’t expect too much because it’s just something I suddenly came up with and idk what it is. I missed writing and making moodboards so much so I really wanted to make and (FINALLY) post something again!

Warnings: none (bad plot maybe)

Word count: 1454

A crowd had filled the room, people were happily chatting away or creating new connections with many of the important figures that were invited.

She had lost John to one of those conversations and even though she felt sorry for him, she finally got the chance to get herself a new drink. Both of them dreaded the event that Tommy had organized but how much they wanted to decline the invitation, they couldn’t. Or well, weren’t allowed to. He was John’s brother after all and according to Tommy it would be good for business.

The location was fancy and only the best of the best was good enough. It showed how much had changed in these years, climbing the ladder of social positions and rising above anyone whoever doubted them.

She liked the new kind of freedom she and John had gained but if it was for them there was no need for all the extravaganza and forced gatherings, something his older brother thought different of.

While she sipped on her newly gotten glass of champagne, she let her eyes scan over the crowd. The expensive dresses and tailor made suits were everywhere and she had to remind herself that, even though it almost made her laugh, she and John belonged there too now. She was wearing a beautiful sparkly dress that might’ve been a bit too overpriced and John’s suit was far from being cheap as well. This is our life now, five words that left his mouth so easily that he had to rethink them once he heard them himself.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Ada joined her, her gloved hand holding a glass of champagne. “I guess.” She looked at the woman next to her. “You guess?” A small smirk appeared on her lips, knowing the actual answer already. “I don’t.” She confessed as she chuckled softly. “I can tell.” Ada chuckled as she pointed out the obvious and sipped on her drink.

“Everyone is just forcing themselves to be nice it seems.” She looked at the crowd again, hoping to find a sign of John. “John was nice enough to let you get out of it.” Her sister in law noticed. “Or I might’ve just seen a chance to get out it and took it.” She giggled, while she was not being able to find her husband.

Ada shook her head, chuckling. “Knowing him, he won’t appreciate it.” (Y/N) looked at her, shrugging. “And knowing him, you know very well that he’d do the same to me.”

“He definitely would.” Ada admitted as they both chuckled. “Speaking of the devil.” She nodded her head towards John, who was coming their way. “Where did you go?” He wondered as he joined both women, gently resting his hand on (Y/N)'s back. “Seemed you had a very interesting conversation so I decided to occupy myself with something else.”

“Occupy yourself with getting drunk, perhaps?” He looked at her, a grin tugging on his lips. “I’m not drunk but I do wish I was.” She sighed jokingly. “Me too.” He confessed while he got a stern look from Ada. “Oh c’mon Ada, you can’t tell me you enjoy this, do you?”

“You know how important this is f-“ She was interrupted by a sigh, a low gravely voice followed after. “Ada, Tommy wants you to meet someone.” Arthur announced. “Behave, please.” She warned John before making her way to Tommy, Arthur following her.

“I’ve been behaving myself whole fuckin’ night. I’m not some fuckin’ menace now, am I?” He muttered as he finished his drink. “Well…” (Y/N) started as he looked at her. “Oh shut up.” He smirked, squeezing her waist before kissing her cheek. “Maybe we should wander around a bit, hm? Discover this overly fancy place. It’s big enough to find some privacy.”

She looked up at him, smiling. “I’d love to but I think we can’t sneak away so easily.” He raised his eyebrows at her words. “And why do you think that?” His hand cupped her cheek. “Your brother likes to keep control at all times and it seems like he really wants you here.” She explained, knowing how strict he could be. John shook his head. “Just play along, darling.” His thumb stroked her cheek before he put his hand on her forehead.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes scanned his face, confused by what he was doing. “Seems like you’re pretty warm, aren’t you?” A small smile tugged on her lips, understanding where this was going. “I’m not feeling that well, no.”

“I think it’s better if you get some fresh air.” He took her champagne, put his fingers in the glass and splattered the liquid on her face. “John!” She gasped in shock. “I mean you’re sweating. Must be a fever.” He smirked as he put both of their glasses away and took her hand. “Come on.”

She followed him as he made his way to his brothers and sister, the feeling of excitement creeping up on her. “Uhm... Tom, sorry for interrupting but we’re leaving." While Tommy paused his conversation, Ada turned and gave both of them an annoyed look." "And why's that?" The older brother wondered. "(Y/N) is not feeling well.” (Y/N) nodded as she looked at him. “Yes, I’m so sorry. I really need some rest.” She held onto John’s arm while he gently stroked her hand.

Tommy nodded slowly as he looked at her before turning his attention to John. “Will you come back?” He asked John. “I don’t know. Depends on how she’s feeling. I can’t just leave her alone.” He squeezed her hand, which made her try out her best fake cough. “Of course you can’t.” Ada answered sarcastically. “Well, take care (Y/N) and come back whenever you can.” Tommy answered shortly before turning back to his conversation.

John’s arm wrapped around her waist as he escorted her out of the room. “Well aren’t you an amazing actress? I mean the fake cough and everything.” He whispered in her ear as he closed the heavy door behind them with a big grin on his face. “You aren’t too bad yourself.” She chuckled while he dabbed her face dry with his sleeve. “I was very believable, hm?” He smirked. “Very.” She agreed as she grinned at him. He took her hand and he led her up the big stairs. “Where are we going?” She wondered curiously. “I don’t know yet.”

While they wandered trough the halls, John tried to open various doors until he found one that was unlocked. He ushered her inside and closed it behind her. She walked up to the big window that had a view over the gardens, they were gently touched by the moonlight. “Look at this.” She breathed out as she looked at the perfectly designed gardens with hundreds of beautiful flowers. John walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s very pretty.” Her hands rested on his arms as silence fell over them, enjoying the fact they were finally alone.

“Can you promise me something?” She spoke up after she let many thoughts run trough her mind. “Of course, love.” He said as he waited for her to continue. “Never change.” Her fingertips ran over his arm. “I wouldn’t dare.” He smiled while he kissed the side of her head. “I understand that this is our life now but I just hope it won’t affect us in a negative way.” She confessed, unsure about the new situations they found theirselves in time after time.

“It hasn’t so far, has it? Or do you mean with a negative way that we don’t own a house like this just yet?” He joked, earning a chuckle from her. “I still prefer our house over places like this.” She told him as she thought about their house on the countryside. “Me too.” John admitted. “But, I have to admit that seeing you wearing dresses like this is something I can get used to.” He smirked as he pressed a kiss in her neck. “Then I must admit that this suit is doing something to me as well.” She giggled as she felt his lips in her neck again.

“Hm…” He let go of her and turned her around so she was facing him. He gently put his hand on her forehead. “I think I found the cause of your temperature rising.” He smirked. “It’s me.”

She laughed. “Of course it’s you. You always have that effect on me.” She grinned while she felt his arms around her body. Hers found their way around his neck with ease. “Maybe I can cure your fever.” He smirked as he leaned in and gently pressed his lips against hers.

idk what this kind of cringey end is but I hope you guys enjoyed it nonetheless 🤭

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 2, Wave 2, Poll 9

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

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

Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Webber / Sun Spider-Marvel

Qualifications:

Charlie is canonically disabled and canonically queer, having EDS and being pansexual. She was originally a spider-sona created by a fan, Dawn Broder, who is agender and disabled.Unlike most disabled characters in superhero media, Charlie stays disabled even after gaining her powers! She uses crutches and a wheelchair, both of which are used alongside her webslinging. Her crutches have webslingers inside them, meaning she uses them to get around even while being sun-spider, and Across The Spider-verse shows her wheelchair being able to help her climb on walls and similar as well. Charlie's story also covers issues faced by disabled people! When an emergency happens at her prom, she's reminded that if she wasn't a spider-person she would be left behind as the others evacuate, which is something that's common irl as well.

Charlotte Webber (Sun-Spider) has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and is an ambulatory wheelchair and crutch user. As shown in the comics she is also queer! She was created by Dayn Broder, a queer disabled comics editor and writer who also has EDS. Sun-Spider’s screentime in Across The Spiderverse was awesome especially the design of her wheelchair. She has web-shooters equipped in her crutches which she uses to fight with. She’s just so fucking cool and hopefully gets more inclusion in comics in the future.

Propaganda:

Charlie is SO important to me as a disabled person because she shows that we can be superheroes while still being disabled, we don't have to have our disabilities taken away to be super. She's also a very fun character! She's funny!

Mostly what I said in the last section, but once again she’s so cool and her wheelchair in ATSV is so sick (when she is not using it it follows her with sort of mecha spider legs).

Heart-Moonlight Chicken

Qualifications:

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

hes canonically deaf and gay

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

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

Canonically queer and deaf

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

Propaganda:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything Else?:

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

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

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 1.

Let's get is started. :) I'm very excited, and I hope you will like it bc I loved to write it.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic

Word Count: 4.2k

Cross-posted: AO3

Author's note: This was originally written in Hungarian, and I'm still looking for a proofreader, so please forgive me the mistakes, strange expressions. Hope it's still enjoyable. Let me know, what do you think. :) Also let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming parts :)

Summary: In Noah's life, his best friend was the light, the way out of the abuse he suffered at home. After a childhood full of trauma, in which he was stripped of his wings so many times, he moves in with Nick, whose goal is to let him fly. The band, Bad Omens, led by Noah, begins to soar, which brings at least as many problems as joy. As teenagers grow into men, Noah and Nick drift closer and closer to each other, and the boundaries of friendship and love completely merge.

Chapter 1.

It would be difficult to say exactly when it started. It was as if the dynamic between the two of us had completely changed without being noticed. I could compare it to when I'm doing a tattoo and I want to create a nice color gradient to make the design look as realistic as possible. The point is that you can't tell where one color ends and the other color begins. Even between us, the transition from wanting to hug him in a friendly way to kissing him passionately was imperceptible.

Maybe I woke up like that one day, but it's also possible that the desire had been brewing in me for weeks, months, years, I just blocked it deep down. And what if I felt that little spark the first time we met, but I was still almost a child and couldn't identify it? I have to start this story somewhere. And like most fairy tales, it didn't start well. The mood of the whole band was cast by melancholy over the loss of a friend. But like all dead artists, Keaton remained immortal. His voice will live forever on the records, despite the fact that he was not with us anymore. The music of Too Close To Touch mingled with the cohesive low murmur of the crowd outside in the club's concert hall, where Keaton's vocals echoed painfully through the walls. "Death is not a game with the ones I hold close She was mine, mine, you can't deny Three years is too quick to die"* All his anger, all his pain were in the song he wrote about his little sister, who died lying on a hospital bed. In the text, he blamed God for choosing little Eiley over him. The poor boy had no idea at the time that they were both chosen… Personally, I would have liked to break something if I remembered that he was gone now, and I could only reassure myself that maybe they were already up there together. If it even exists up there. Because what if up there is actually only two meters underground?

The song didn't come at the best moment, because we had to go on stage right after, and I might be able to hide my mood in front of the audience… I glanced at Noah and my heart sank when I saw him banging his head against the wall, clutching the microphone in his hand, next to the stage, which we will soon have to walk up to. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, which I completely forgot to do in parallel. I was so worried about him. I knew he'd hate himself for that if his voice cracked while singing the opening lines of The Death Of Peace Of Mind. His maximalism was what he could torture himself with the most. Also, he had to be up there alone at the beginning of the song, we didn't join until later. I walked to him and gently put my hand on his shoulder, but I still managed to scare him a little because he pulled away before he opened his eyes. When he saw me, he almost snuggled back into my hand. It reminded me of my very first cat, the little black ball of fur I found on the street when I was barely ten. I named him Dusk because of his color and when he came to us I did everything I could to fatten him up. We slept together in my bed at night, because his soft purr always lulled me to sleep quickly. It was amazing how much Dusk and Noah were alike. Even in the semi-darkness next to the stage, my best friend's dark brown eyes glistened with unshed tears, which he tried to quickly blink away. His shoulders slumped forward in the thin linen jacket, and I'd bet his fingers were white under the faux-leather glove he wore on his left hand, clutching the microphone like a lifeline. He and Keaton were very close. In the last two years, they spent a lot of time together, especially during and after the Covid epidemic, when it was possible to travel. Even when they were far away, they kept in touch on a daily basis. Keaton was good with all of us, but he had a stronger bond with Noah. He wanted to remember him by playing their songs during the break after our opening band, but Eiley's song has never come at such a bad time.

“We can extend the time for five more minutes,” I told him, and meanwhile I looked back at Jolly, who was still fiddling with his headphones with the help of a sound technician, and Folio was deep in his own thoughts drumming on the wall, sometimes doing shoulder circles as a warm-up. "Everything's fine," Noah replied in a weak voice, to which I nodded hesitantly, lowered my hand, and took a step back. "I'm worthless to the world You're innocent and pure God, why didn't you choose me over her?”* They signaled to Noah, who gave a thumbs up as if everything was fine. Nonsense. I knew nothing was okay. Keaton's voice faded outside and soon the intro to our song began. I looked down at my guitar and after stretching my fingers I strummed a few chords just to pass the time. When Noah walked out and the crowd cheered, he wasn't as lost as he had been two minutes ago. He immediately filled the stage and sang like a fucking siren without faltering. I shook my head, feeling a little angry at myself for constantly underestimating him. It was about time to get used to that Noah wasn't ruined by all the crap that happened around him. On the contrary, it only strengthened him even more.

Two months later, I was sitting on the steps of the tour bus in Phoenix, beer in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other, when I heard Noah's footsteps behind me. After a concert he liked to clear his head, so I thought he was going for his usual walk and I thought that I could join. I stood up to let him go, and when he stepped next to me, I was hit by the smell of his perfume. He had just stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his pants, so I began to suspect that he had other plans for that evening. “Karin is in the city,” he said to me, but he didn't look at me, just watched the night lights. The blue neon lights of the bar glistened on the brunette's hair, and the tattoos running down his arms coiled around his skin like snakes. I thought I still had time. I thought I could figure something out before they met again in Salt Lake City. I blew out the last of the smoke, extinguished the butt, then slipped out of my denim jacket and held it out to him. “We will leave in the morning, be here by then.” Noah hesitantly took my jacket and looked at me. “That's it?” he asked in disbelief. I don't know what he expected. Maybe to remind him again that woman is crazy like hell? "I'm tired," I confessed to him. ”I can't save you from someone whose arms you keep running into. But I can do something to save you from catching a cold,” I gestured towards the jacket. He still didn't move, even though the situation was becoming more and more pressing for me, and the spring night wasn't nearly warm enough to keep me from getting goosebumps. I wrapped my arms around myself and hobbled in place. I kicked small stones with my boots on the asphalt of the parking lot and waited. I didn't care if I froze there, I wouldn't leave Noah alone as long as he needed me. The boys' laughter could be heard from inside the bus, a car honked on the street not far from us. I raised my head and immediately met a pair of dark eyes. Stared. I don't know how long or why. I swear he didn't even blink. Then he reached out and touched my arm under the sleeve of my shirt. “You are cold.” I blinked a few times, then started to move. I took the jacket from his hands and draped it over his shoulders. “But you don't have to be cold,” I answered him with an encouraging smile. “Everything will be okay. I will be okay,” he said quietly and gloomily. I don't know which of us he wanted to convince with this, but it didn't work. The smile immediately melted off my face. “Noah…” It's been a long time since my voice sounded so desperate when I said his name. I think all my fear must have been on my face because Noah took a step back and shook his head. I was ready to try again to get him to stay. We could have done so many things. From walking to sitting down to play video games with the boys. Or we could have gone to a nightclub to drink and to flirt with girls. Whatever, just don't let that cunt touch him again… He brushed his hair back and shrugged as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I have to go, Nick. We will talk in the morning.” And that was it. There was nothing I could do to keep him there.

I got home from the tattoo salon late that night and was so tired that all I could think about was my bed. But as soon as I stepped through the door, the strong smell of weed hit me. It went through the small apartment so intensely that I almost got sick of it. "Shit," I muttered to myself as I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag on the floor, and headed for the bedroom with the goal of scolding Noah. The door was not locked on the little hole we called the bedroom, which was completely filled with my bed and the mattress that Noah had been sleeping on for months. When I entered, he was sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to his chin, and he was holding a weed cigarette between his long, thin fingers. As if he had completely forgotten about it, the ash fell onto my blanket and I was amazed that it hadn't caught fire yet. Noah didn't even notice I got home because he was listening to music on his earphones, and I was sure he was just physically in the room by the way he looked. I leaned towards him, took the cigarette from his fingers and crushed it in the ashtray. With that, I finally drew attention to myself, because after he looked up at me tensely, with red eyes. The Asian features of his face came to life, which normally I would have stared in fascination, but this was not a normal case. I forgot I wanted to yell at him for wasting the weed and almost setting our apartment on fire. Because by then we both owned that little flat. In the corner, next to my guitar, there was also his. Noah's things appeared in the bathroom, his shampoo, his toothbrush, he got half of my wardrobe and sometimes half of my bed… His clothes were just as messily scattered as mine, and he already had his favorite mug, from which he preferred to sip his coffee in the morning. I wanted to think that his eyes were red from smoking weed, but when he spoke, I had no doubt that he must have been crying for hours.

"I thought you'd come home earlier today," he said in a nasal tone after stopping the music and taking out his earphones. In the meantime, I opened the window without holding him responsible for why he did not do so. “I thought so too,” I answered him, then I fell down on the bed next to him. ”Another guest came at seven, and thought I would do miracles in two hours with an old, messed-up tattoo.” Noah nodded, then slowly stretched out his infinite legs. He was only sixteen then, but already a little taller than me. We sat speechless for a while and looked at each other. I was even more overcome by fatigue, and for a moment my eyes were probably closed too long while blinking, because I was jolted when Noah moved next to me. He took a deep breath, then let it out shakily. Our tattooed arms touched and I could feel the tremors running through his bones as he reached for his phone. Oh my god, he was so skinny. If I touched his arms, I was afraid I would crush him as if his limbs were made of thin glass fibers. “I got a message,” he whispered into the dimness, then put the phone on my thigh. I picked it up with a scared heart and started reading. I had a guess of what it might be, and honestly… I just didn't understand why it didn't come sooner. At first, Noah's mother tried to lure her son back to her side with sweet, but poisoned words, which in the end turned into mere threats. Every fucking word she wrote made me feel nauseous. “After half a year, she remembered that she had an underage son. Maybe she expects some kind of reward for it?” I asked, but mostly I meant it as a poetic question.

Noah tensed up next to me and started breathing faster. “I… I can't go back there. If… if you say I have to go back to her, I… rather… I…” "Hey Noah, I would never say that," I turned to him and tried to speak in the most soothing voice possible. But I was too late… By that time, tears were already falling, and he was clutching the crumpled bottom of his two-size-larger shirt. I was totally in shock because I had never seen anything like this before. What kind of friend is who doesn't recognize that the problem is so big? Noah was an old soul with a lot of shit and loss behind him, who blended in perfectly with the adults, so I tended to forget that he was still just a kid. But now there was a child next to me who was terrified. Whom fear brought out the worst. "I shouldn't be here," he said between sobs, to which I shook my head so fast that my hair hit my cheek. I knelt on the bed, turned to face him and tried to remove his fingers from his clothes. I just wanted to hold his hand… I just wanted him to know I was with him. “Noah…No! Don't tell me this!” I protested loudly, but he didn't listen to me. It's like he didn't even hear what I said. Instead, he drove himself deeper and deeper into madness. “I should have died a long time ago…years ago.” If he had only stabbed a dagger into my stomach with his words, this was the moment he twisted it. My chest felt tight and I couldn't breathe. Noah snapped his head back hard and his skull hit the wall loudly. After that, I couldn't focus on my own panic anymore, without thinking I put my hand on his head to protect him from himself. I didn't care that I might not be able to tattoo. My fingers ached as they met the hard wall, but I didn't really notice the pain. All I cared about was Noah and how I could keep him safe. I've been trying to figure out how to fix this. His cries and animalistic whining still ring in my ears, mixed with the sound of my heart's frantic beating. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him close as he just cried and cried, his tears completely soaking my shirt. He was hugging my thighs as I knelt next to him, finally not wanting to hurt himself anymore.

That night, I only left his side when I brought him water from the kitchen. Then we both got into bed and Noah turned to face me, but half of his red face from crying was hidden in the pillow and the other half was covered by his hair. I quickly got rid of my tight jeans, threw them on the side of the bed and took his phone in my hand. He was watching what I was doing, but he didn't speak. First, without any guilt, I deleted his mother's message, then opened his music. It didn't surprise me that he was listening to Castle Of Glass by Linkin Park when I got home. I flipped through the playlist and started our favorite song As Cities Burn after giving him one of the earbuds. "Won't you come down, heaven. Won't you come down? Won't you cut through the clouds? Won't you come down?”** At the first chorus, he already closed his eyes, and only then did I allow myself to relax a little. I carefully reached towards him, smoothed the strands falling from his face behind his ears, and then I closed my eyes too. I begged myself to fall into a dreamless sleep. In the morning, when we woke up, Noah helped me untangle the earbuds’ cord from my hair. We parted laughing, shoving a piece of toast into our mouths. He went to a band rehearsal, and I went to a place that has become my second home, the tattoo salon. My fingers got away with it quite well, with a small bruise on one of the joints, which only started to hurt a little towards the end of the day. We didn't discuss anything else about that night. Maybe I regret it since then, but what can I say? I was just a scared kid too, too stupid to help his friend more. Noah's mother died less than two months later. I didn't feel for a minute that she was a loss to the world.

He has become a grown man since and he doesn't need me to protect him from the world. I watched motionless as he walked down the street to get into a taxi. His tall, thin figure disappeared around the corner and I could finally get my legs moving. I got on the bus, grabbed a new bottle of beer from the fridge and joined the others. Folio showed Matt some funny videos and Jolly typed a message on his phone. I sat next to him on the couch and started reading the news. "He won't be able to do this for long," said Jolly next to me in a strong Swedish accent. When it was late and he was tired, he didn't pay so much attention to speaking English with perfect pronunciation. But there's nothing wrong with that, we've been working together for so long, and we've been friends for so long that we understand each other with half a word. “What do you mean?” I turned to him. I slipped out of my boots, slid off the couch, and put my feet up on the small table. I rested my head on the backrest and wiped the steam from the side of the glass with my thumb. “For Noah's secret night meetings. Matt had told him before when saw that he wanted to go out on the town all by himself.” “It doesn't happen that often. And it's not a secret where he's going, he told me he was meeting Karin,” I took him to my defense immediately. “Anyway, why can't he go? The fans had left for an hour, no one was out there. And it's not that he hit the town on foot. He called a taxi.” “That girl is strange,” Jolly grimaced. You do not say.. “When she came to our place, Noah wasn't quite himself.” Recently, I felt guilty for not trying to stop him more firmly, but I reminded myself: Noah pointed out rather angrily during an argument about this that I can't protect him from everything. "If a little fuck puts him in a better mood, we're all fine with that," Folio interjected when Matt left us alone. Maybe I gave him a nasty look from behind my beer bottle, because he held his hands up defensively. I took another sip, then realized I didn't even want the beer. I put the bottle on the table, brushed my teeth in our small bathroom, and went to sleep. At least I wanted to sleep, but I must have been tossing and turning for another hour.

It felt like I had barely closed my eyes when something started to tingle my nose. I brushed it off at first, but then Noah's soft chuckle crept into my consciousness. I groaned then pulled the pillow over my head planning to go back to sleep. I kicked the blanket off because I was hot, and it turned out, it was a big mistake. Ice cold fingers touched my side, the muscles in my stomach jumped and I let out a muffled moan. “Fuck me!” I grumbled hoarsely as I caught Noah's hand, who was just putting the other one in front of my mouth. "Shh, the others are still sleeping," he whispered excitedly with sparkling eyes. “I want to sleep too,” I answered after pulling his hand away from my mouth. “Come on, Nick. I'm hungry. I want breakfast.” “Why can’t you eat?” “Missing your company.” I sighed. “Go to the kitchen. Give me five minutes and I'll be there.” "If I leave you here, you'll go back to sleep," he said accusingly, as if he had every right not to let me go back to sleep. “And I would go a little further for breakfast than the bus kitchen. But I promise, it's worth it. You will love the place.” Another sigh, but I sat up with half-closed eyes, then pulled on a pair of pants and a thick hoodie. My jacket was still on him and he didn't seem like he wanted to give it back.

After five minutes, Noah got off the bus energetically, and I, wrapped in my hoodie, got off the bus grumpily. It was just dawn, around half past six. Noah finally slowed his steps and stopped in front of me, facing me. My hair would have been a complete disaster, not to mention the pillow creases on my face, or my eyes, which I could barely keep open. "You're sweet when you are sleepy," he said finally. He looked at me with a smile, then pulled the hood over my head and did the same with his own. ”I don't want to be recognized.” “Come on! Who would be awake this early?” I asked sarcastically, yawning into my palm. We walked down the street and luckily he was right, we really didn't have to walk far before we got to the breakfast place. Too tired to read the sign, I just entered the small but friendly coffee shop and sighed as I was greeted by a pleasant warmth inside. I said hello to the gray lady behind the counter. When I saw the first cat, licking its paws on a chair, I turned to Noah questioningly, who just shrugged. "I thought you missed your little monsters," he said. A big smile spread across my face. A cat café. I was already less sleepy when I crouched next to the kitten and let him sniff my hand. Then I noticed even more hairballs and I didn't even know which one to go to. Meanwhile, Noah ordered us coffee and breakfast at the counter. I heard the old lady laughingly answer him when asked why they were open so early: “If the kittens wake up, why can't I open the cafe?”

I smiled as I scratched the head of a calico sitting next to the wall, and we blinked at each other for a long time. After ordering, Noah came over and sat next to me. "The chick likes you," he remarked when the kitten was placed on my lap. “What kind of chick? She is a lady here,” I caressed the hairy ears. Laughing softly, Noah leaned forward and, using the kitten etiquette he'd learned from me, introduced himself to our newest friend before petting her. Now that the hood was off his head, I noticed the bite marks on his neck. The dark red spot was located right on the border between his tattoo and his bare skin so that it was just noticeable. I swallowed, tore my gaze from his neck, and reassured myself that Noah didn't seem as lost now as he did after most of his meetings with Karin. Maybe she has changed. Maybe she finally realized what she had to lose? Noah's fingers accidentally touched mine in the kitten's soft fur, and we smiled at each other as the furball began to purr loudly. I haven't seen Noah this happy since before Keaton's death. Maybe Karin isn't so bad after all? We ate breakfast sitting on the floor with a cat each in our laps and had to run back to the bus before departure.

*Too Close To Touch - Eiley **As Cities Burn - Contact

[yandere-sins]

Aaaand it’s a wrap guys!!! Thank you all for sticking around for Sintember and giving the prompts lots of love! And thank you @sintember for creating a wonderful, creative prompt list which had amazing gems on it! This blog is going back to regular content now but it was a delight to participate in this challenge ♥

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Gagging, Cuffing with chains, Abuse, Mistreatment, Unwanted affection/touches, Punishments, Heavy Trauma, Suicide mention, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrom

Prompt: @sintember Free Day Friday: True Freedom - Write anything you want! Anything.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

It had been years now.

When it happened, it was the worst thing anyone could imagine. Chained and gagged, you spent your miserable days in a dark basement, only the owner of the house you were kept in able to turn the light on. Every day when he returned home, he’d bring you upstairs to bathe, eat, and watch television together. Even at night, he kept you by his side, cuddled you, and whispered your name in his sleep reverently. The chains remained. Always.

But where this was your everyday life, there were days when things would not go so peacefully. He’d hit you and punish you, make you beg for your life with a knife pressed to your throat. You’d be forced to your knees, fulfilling his fantasy, and call him disgusting nicknames that still made bile rise into your mouth. He was as moody as he was sweet and caring. Kind even. Always ordering the food you liked and letting you have the softer pillow to sleep on. But in the morning, he’d always drag you back down into the basement to stay there alone.

It was a love of convenience, and you were only convenient when he was home and had you all to himself. You learned more about your captor the longer it went on, but those memories were fading. Not so much the dark, angry glares he had after angering him or the smothering confessions of love while he touched you against your will. Those still haunted your nightmares and woke you up covered in sweat.

But it was all in the past now.

Eventually, someone found you. It had been almost unreal to see another face again after so long, a maintenance man having stopped by unannounced and finding you crying and clearly in distress. It had been an absolute coincidence; had your captor known, he probably would have arranged it in a way you wouldn’t have been found. To this day, you wrote ‘Thank you!’ cards every Christmas to the guy that freed you.

You couldn’t even be a witness in court, but it wasn’t necessary. Together with your therapist and your finally reunited family, you watched the court session take place, clutching their hands as if your dear life depended on it. Him being sentenced for his crime, strangely enough, didn’t make you burst out in tears then and there. But the moment you stepped away from the TV, your whole body collapsed, the relief unleashing the bottled-up emotions.

It took a long time to see the fruits of your recovery. You couldn’t leave your home, seeing your captor in every man that passed by. Panic attacks were more common to you than hugs with your family members. As you recovered from even the simplest things, your life was still on hold—just like for the year and half you were kidnapped. Eating, bathing, sleeping—you had to relearn everything. Even with your therapist’s help, those were constant reminders of him. The worst was the rattling of chains, be it from a vehicle or keys. You’d instantly cower in a corner, wheezing.

No, it wasn’t easy to relearn true normality. You wanted to, desperately, but it was met with more shame than peace. When you passed a man with his aftershave on your rare walks, you still froze up and remembered when you’d apply it on him. He’d give you the bottle, trusting you with his eyes closed and looking so normal. As if you were meant to help each other like this. And even though you flinched when you touched yourself, caressing a spot he liked to grab or kiss, you always came face to face with the memory of him whispering your name into your ear. Telling you, you were his one and only. That he loved you to the moon and back. That you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

It was inexplicable how you could still remember these moments almost fondly, just because those were the times he treated you as equal, loved, and gentle. With no fear connected to it. But even when your therapist told you it was typical to feel this way, all you could feel was shame. Shame that after all he did, you still put him on a pedestal like that. As if he hadn’t been horrifying enough. As if his love hadn’t been a sick excuse for the abuse he put you through.

But somehow, you got through it all. You started to heal, slowly. There were times you were still overwhelmed, but even more, you were happy again and made more memories. You even flirted once! But nothing came of it since you decided you weren’t ready for that amount of trust and vulnerability again. You were still too scared to be used and mistreated; it was better to focus on yourself for the time being.

Who knew if things would have ever really changed. Even with the small accomplishments, the moving forward, you weren’t sure if you could ever recover from the trauma. Perhaps you had to accept that your freedom would always be a little screwed now. Better than that stinky basement, though. You even got to go to your favorite coffee shop again, all by yourself, and enjoy their seasonal assortment. Things were getting better, very, very slowly.

But as fate would have it, your life wasn’t supposed to get better.

Ever.

While waiting for your coffee, you looked at your phone, realizing you had missed calls and texts asking where you were. It was strange for your family to make a fuss, considering it had been you who fussed about most things. It made you smile just a little as you opened the messenger, replying to your sister.

>> You have to come home asap!

<< Why? What’s wrong?

>> He was released from prison today!

You were about to reply to ask what she meant, your brain not working fast enough when the barista called out your name, and you looked up, reaching for the coffee she held out. Another hand brushed yours aside, taking it from her with a chipper, “Thank you!” while the second hand looped around yours, squeezing it tightly.

The smell of familiar aftershave wafted into your nose, and you froze, just like you had for the last couple of times you smelled it. Your vision began to shake as you forced yourself to look at the man standing next to you, his face thrown in shadows by the baseball cap he was wearing, but his features still looked the same. He seemed too healthy to be out of prison, yet, more muscular than you remembered him. Stronger. More capable.

He turned to you, a smile so full of joy it must have hurt, curling on his lips and his eyes softening as he looked at you. He brought up your intertwined hands, kissing yours longingly. “I missed you,” he mumbled against your knuckles, smothering your hand in more kisses. “I missed you so much it made me want to kill myself.”

With a sigh, he lowered your hands again, holding out your coffee to you, your body accepting his gift just like it had all these years before. “Only the thought of seeing you again kept me alive, and now, finally…”

Tugging softly on your hand, you made an instinctive step forward. Suddenly you weren’t the person on the road to recovery anymore. Suddenly you were the same person he kidnapped, chained, and trained to follow his every step, every move, and every wish. Your whole therapy seemed to collapse into itself as you felt no inch stronger, wiser, or able to resist than before.

“Let’s go home, okay?” he said. Nonchalantly, unbothered of the past between you. The years that had passed or the changes that happened.

Just like that, all your freedom vanished before your eyes, your voice silenced with a kiss as you wanted to scream.

And you wondered how long it would take this time for everything to repeat itself.

[celestiall0tus]

Mental Health Awareness - Me, Myself, and I

This will likely be the last post I make for this regarding the month because everything hit the fan for my own mental health, and I'm crashing hard. So, let's be real for a second.

Since March, I've been transitioning in and out of depressive states. The whole not having a job and the constant being looked over or just not being able to meet the smallest of needs for a job was and is destroying my esteem. It's the biggest war I'm fighting with myself to remind me that I am a good writer and editor, that I just need to keep looking and applying, then I'll find the job willing to give me a chance.

The only escape I had was fanfiction, namely Bloody Bug. A big reason I was so hyperfixated on it was because I quite literally gave Alix my behaviors from those awful years (minus the whole dead mom, mine is very much alive) and there was a sense of catharsis and joy being able to explore that in a character. But I fucked up.

There was an incident a week ago writing this when I took a personal slight on Bloody Bug and reacted as I shouldn't have as a creator. I let their words bother me even long after the ashes had cooled and I see what I should have done in hindsight, which is what any creator should do, ignore the negative comments. I didn't, and reacted as I always have, with anger. I allowed myself to lose the fight before it had even begun and lashed out. I was a fool.

If not for my sister, I'd still be in that angry state, and not here, taking accountability for my actions. I fed into the negativity and let it sour my experience. I let words poison my love for the story from the few, when I should have ignored them. I even did a small reading and in my cards was the reversed three of swords, justice, and the hanged man, which told me exactly what my sister did.

Stop being so harsh on myself. Take everything in stride. Don't let things get under your skin and weigh you down. Take a moment, breathe, and collect yourself. Recenter and care for yourself before you head back into the thick of things. It's all easier said than done, but something must be done if anything is to change.

Despite my own demanding work ethic, I have made myself come to a full stop. I need to self-reflect and recenter myself before I can create again. Once I've done that, I'll be back to, well, a semi state of functioning.

[nerdierholler]

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely person 🌹

Your kind words on the things you reblog mean a lot <3 And I always look forward to reading your writing whenever you share something, there's something about the way you capture daily life moments that's so good. (Also: love love the animal facts you share!)

Here’s a romance-themed OC question for any OC(s) of your choosing (no pressure to answer on Valentine’s day itself, or at all):

What combination of random objects would your OC use to describe their LI? What do they represent? Bonus question: What would their LI use to describe them?

Thank you so so much for all of these wonderful words <3 Sorry this took me so long to answer. The week go away from me but I've finally gotten a good afternoon to answer. I'm gonna answer for Ethan and Adam and it kind of turned into a ficlet about just one object.

It doesn't come as a surprise to Ethan that no matter where he looks around Wayhaven, he finds things that remind him of Adam. What does surprise him are the things that catch his attention. Logic says every gray t-shirt or pair of sunglasses would be the likely culprits but instead today it's passing by an old building made from simply but solidly hand carved stone blocks. From a distance the lines seem perfectly straight, ordered row after ordered row forming an unmovable wall. It's only when one gets close that they can see the undulations in the joints, the individual chisel marks that make each block unique. For how many centuries did people pass their skill down from one to another? It's entirely possible that the man who made the blocks in Wayhaven would have used the same techniques as the man who built the keep that Adam grew up in.

Stone is a strong durable material. It's heavy and difficult for most to move or change, but in the right hands it can be made useful and accessible. The truly talented artists can turn the hard surface into soft pliable flesh, or at least the illusion of it. Stone cannot stop being a stone after all.

As Ethan passes by he reaches out and absently runs the tips of his fingers along the building's wall. It's solid and cool to the touch but he can feel every bump and pit created by years of wear and tear. They are imperfections that make it perfect. Poured concrete and blocks cut with modern saws create smooth surfaces that lack personality. They're missing the mark of their makers. Ethan can only hope that over time, he'll be able to leave his mark on Adam, and if he's very lucky he'll be able to carve out niche just the right size for them to fit together.

More random things under the cut

Other things that randomly make Ethan think of Adam:

Wine: It's because Adam drinks his blood from a wine glass so every time Ethan sees a bottle or pours himself a glass, he can't help but think of Adam and their different potential paths. He tries not to space out too much at the store lol

The smell of leather: Of course the Agency has the best SUVs, leather seats and everything, but really it's the well maintained leather from Adam's car the comes to mind when Ethan smells it. The antique store is dangerous. Heck, even that one nice chair in the waiting room can be a problem.

For Adam:

Sunny breezy days because they remind him of Ethan's personality.

Any classic film star. Nate watches old movies from time to time and there's something about that old Hollywood leading man style that makes him think of Ethan. Should Ethan ever decide to wear a 40s or 50s style suit Adam might just swoon. Now I'm having thoughts about a not-a-date night where the little theater in Wayhaven does a classic movie night and Ethan and Adam go together. Adam just looks like he's in pain the whole time so Ethan thinks he's have a terrible evening when in reality Adam's trying to hold himself together and not think all of *those* thoughts.

[mrs-johansson]

Strangers in the night - Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Part 17:

*third person pov*

Mid July, the sun shining on the pavement. People moving around with portable wardrobes, tents set up for hair and makeup, all this on the streets of Prague.

Cameras standing in a line, looking right at the center of the town. The buildings looked so bright but the picture just looked sad and empty of life.

Taika and Y/n stood behind the cameras, surrounded by monitors, talking over the next scene. Coffee in both their hands, headphones resting around Y/n’s neck as she said in her director chair. Hair tied back into a tight bun, trying to hide the hair that she wasn’t able to wash in a week. Although she looked fresh and very put together, she was exhausted. She covered up the dark circles under her eyes with light makeup and the smile was a constant on her face.

Scarlett was sitting in her makeup chair, getting the final touches from the makeup artist. Her eyes were on her girlfriend through the mirror watching as she was giving out orders to the set designers and camera men. Y/n was very different on set than she was at home. At work, she looked confident and sure of her voice and job, looking like a real professional who’s been doing this for years. But at home, in the safety of their little bubble, she was very insecure and fearful of the work she’s been doing. Scarlett couldn’t tell her enough how amazing she was at her job and that she had nothing to worry about. Sometimes Y/n just went with the flow and accepted her girlfriend’s praises and even believed them, which made her calmer at work. Mostly she just acted like she was putting up this front but in reality, she was scared of every little move she made on her own set.

“She’s doing pretty well so far,” the makeup artist’s voice brought Scarlett out of her daydream. “What?” “Y/n. She’s doing a great job,” repeated the woman. “Oh yeah, she’s awesome.” The actress hid her smile and the blush that crept up her cheeks.

Filming scene by scene, everyone knew that this movie was something that will be very well put together. Y/n has shown great potential at directing and producing, which she obviously didn’t feel but everyone else did.

Weeks went by and there was less and less filming needed and it all seemed very real for the young director. Taika was always there to remind Y/n that she has been doing incredible. But she always said, “We’ll see when it comes out.” She was right but so was Taika.

As the last two weeks of shooting rolled around, the marketing team organized an interview/behind-the-scenes video for the cast. The actors and directors each shared their thoughts on the filming and their cast mates and crew.

***

Inside Jojo Rabbit - Behind the scenesnes

“The first time we thought about the movie, we were sure we wanted this to be funny. And while writing the script, we didn’t know how far we should take this comedic relief, so we took it the furthest we could.” Shared Y/n Cole, director and writer of the movie.

Taika Waititi as Imaginary Adolf:

“Through the whole writing process, I always had Taika in mind for Hitler’s role. Of course not because they are so similar, but because I couldn’t imagine someone else being so… accepting of this role and taking it seriously, in an acting way. It’s a very complex character and Taika is the only one I think who understands the purpose of this figure. When you play a character so questionable or any kind of character, as an actor you have to lose any judgment to play them and he was able to create this whole other person with his acting but also be authentic towards the character,” said Y/n.

Scarlett Johansson as Rosie Betzler:

“Scarlett’s screen test was the only one I could not be present at because I was working, but Taika called me right after she was done. The only thing he said on the phone was, I think I just hired Scarlett Johansson as Rosie and you’re gonna love her so much. Okay, bye. I have to go. And he hung up. Then as pre-production rolled in, and then the table read, seeing Scarlett and Roman interact and act out the scenes, I was so happy that she was the one for this role because she’s the kind of person who takes the role and cherishes it with care and it fits her so well.”

“When we were talking about her role, it was clear that this type of comedic but also serious and responsible mother character was new in her career but not in her everyday life. And when at specific scenes the actors are free to improvise, she’s so quick and witty with her parts and I think that’s definitely a relief for us that we have actors who are incredibly professional but also able to contribute to the creative process if that makes sense.”

Roman Griffin Davis as Jojo Betzler.

“I was very excited about this role and the casting of it but also terrified. But when we met Roman, all my worries disappeared. The whole screen test was about 25 minutes, and he did not take his eyes off Taika. You know… it’s hard to have a character like his but also make the audience love him or to think about his point of view, not just go like oh gosh he’s supporting Hitler, he’s horrible. Finding Roman was a changing point. When you look at him, you only think that he’s the cutest and sweetest kid.”

“He is the kindest little human, an honest gentleman who is a complete professional and a kid blessed with amazing acting skills. Roman has such a fresh approach towards acting since this is his first time doing it, and he is willing to learn from anybody who gives him any advice. You know… being surrounded with actors like Scarlett, Taika or like Sam Rockwell, at the end he gained so much experience and just little secrets about acting.”

“But also he is such an appreciative boy. Whenever he wasn’t shooting and I had time off too, we’d rate the food and candy we had on set, and one time, I had a very bad day. I was tired and frustrated and he came to my trailer with a basket full of things that I liked so far and we watched cartoons for the rest of the day. The next day, he came up to me and said, thank you for choosing me for the role and I’m so happy to work with you. My heart melted. He has the biggest heart and besides that, he’s an amazing actor.”

Thomasin McKenzie as Elsa Korr:

“Taika was the one who suggested Thomasin for this part since he knew her prior. And as production was getting along, and we got to know each other better, I recognized so much of Thomasin in Elsa’s character and I find that so interesting. Working as an actor you don’t realize how much your co-stars are similar with their roles because you're so focused on how you would actualize your character, but seeing everyone from the third person’s view, it was easier to see these things.”

“I especially like the dynamic between Elsa and Rosie. Thomasin and Scarlett had this incredibly great chemistry and with Rosie being the mother figure to Elsa, I think they did such an amazing job with the scenes.”

Sam Rockwell as Captain Klenzendorf:

“Captain K has been one of my favorite characters since the beginning of the whole process. Whenever I wrote a scene with him, I just wanted to make him as sarcastic as possible. Him being a gay natzi I think was so ironic and drama-like so when Sam Rockwell came up as a possibility, I was pushing until he got the part.”

“His character has this similarity with Jojo, that you have to make the audience like him. But he also has these elements that make him more like someone who you’d love as a character. You can already see from the beginning that he is so done with this war and on top of that he has to train all these kids. Captain K is definitely one of the more chaotic comedic reliefs in the movie, which Sam did an amazing job doing.”

“While being a natzi captain, he is also a lowkey ally. In particular scenes you can see that he actually has other opinions about the whole natzi thing but rather goes with what is expected from him as a man and captain during this time, and I think it makes him a complex and mysterious character too.”

Y/n Coles as director, producer, screenwriter

Y/n:

“At first I was very nervous about playing the director’s part. I didn’t really think about doing it, I was just like… you know I wrote this with Taika, I'm sure he will do a great job with it. But he insisted that I direct it and produce it. Still, terrified. But here we are.”

“As the whole casting part was over and it started getting very real, I sat down with Taika and asked him, did we just ruin our career? He looked at me, took a deep breath, and said, I guess we’ll know when it’s in theaters. So yeah, that’s how we started filming.”

“When the script was finished, I didn’t know who to give it to read it first. I was very afraid of how people are gonna actually react with now the real thing in their hands. My dad was my first choice and I gave it to him, but he asked me to pitch him the idea. And I was like, you can’t be serious, there’s no way I will tell you a sentence about this movie that will make you want to watch it. He handed me back the pages and I had to give it to him when I had a pitch speech. But I kinda have one so…”

“Jojo Rabbit is about a boy, who lives in Natzi Germany and his imaginary friend/father figure is Hitler. But as the war continues he finds himself opening up his view about the world and what he has believed so far. Kind of… It’s still not perfect, just watch the movie.”

Taika:

“Working with Y/n was amazing. She has such a creative mind and just such a great approach toward her work. Actually, she’s the one who keeps me in line. She was the real boss around here while also being the most fun and loving person. I guess it was because she wasn’t dressed as Hitler while directing, that’s probably easier.”

“When we first thought about the idea of making a movie of this story, she was scared of the comedy part of it. I was like okay yeah, try to write something, write a scene then we’ll get back to it. A week later, she sent me the opening scene. The one you see in the beginning. Not a line has changed ever since she wrote it. The rest is history.”

“As an actor, she knew how to treat the actors while directing. Her attitude was just brilliant. She’s a genius. It was her first time directing and producing but she killed it, absolutely killed it. When she wanted to add an element we haven't discussed prior, she was really passionate about it. Her ideas are well thought over and amazing, but making it real was how I think she won over everyone.”

Scarlett:

“Y/n and I became friends before pre-production started and she voiced her concern about her directorial debut a lot of times. She was very scared about people not taking her seriously because of her age and “lack of experience”. But you know a woman like Y/n, she has that kind of posture that you don’t see in every director. She is an amazing actor and that definitely contributes to how she works as a director. Y/n has her own methods already on how to make her ideas real and how to speak with us to understand her vision.”

“The first time I read the script I was just so impressed with her writing skills. The dialogues she wrote are just so so good. And she is very shy about her work so whenever someone compliments her creation she's way too humble about it.”

“Y/n is a very approachable person and I think that is one of the reasons why it is so easy to work with her. She is direct with her words and thoughts which is always helpful for the actors, especially if there are kids involved. Y/n speaks their language so naturally and her connection with Roman definitely helped him to reach his best in the movie.”

Roman:

“Y/n is the best director I’ve ever worked with. Even if she’s the first one.”

“She is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met and she is very kind. She gives the best advice and I think she is easy to understand and doesn’t use these crazy words to explain what I have to do, so it was great to work with her.”

“But she’s also very fun when she’s not wearing the headphones and sits in her chair. Whenever she has free time she makes sure I’m okay and spends time with me. We often read lines together too, which is very cool.”

Thomasin:

“Y/n is the first female director I’ve worked with so far and she put the stakes very high for the next ones. She was just fantastic, truly.”

“When you first see her, you think she’s a beautiful young woman who is an actress. A lot of people actually don’t know how witty and how comedic her personality is. We always have fun with her on set.”

“I especially loved how Y/n gave us instructions. It was great because both she and Taika are actors and know what they need to understand a certain scene. Her instructions are always very straightforward but she’s also very flexible with how we play, which is I think very unique of her.”

Sam Rockwell:

“I’ve been following Y/n’s work for a while now and I think she’s a phenomenal actress. And because of that, I was very curious about her as a director.”

“On the first table read she was very reserved and observing, and I was very surprised that she’s so quiet and kinda lets Taika talk forever. But on the next one, she knew how all of us were and how to work with us, you know. She basically did a test run in her head on how this is going to work, oh Sam does this and Roman speaks like this, so she was just silently putting the whole picture together.”

“Although, what I was not expecting, is that she took her part in basically everything. She had ideas for the costumes, the buildings, and every type of artistic element. It is very important for her to not only show the darker ones of the time but like the light of it, which is very hard to find.”

***

It was done. The last scene has finished and everyone who worked in the film was standing in the room, looking at Taika and Y/n. The man gave his speech, making everyone laugh with his words, then looked at his directing partner who had tears in her eyes, holding them back with every strength in her body. Y/n got the mic and stepped forward.

“I don’t even know where to start…” She cleared her throat, scared to even look at her cast. “First of all I’d like to apologize for crying in the upcoming minutes, look past it please, I’m a mess as you can tell,” she chuckled tearfully.

She lifted her eyes to Scarlett who had the proudest smile on her face seeing her girl shine was something she’ll cherish forever.

The room was silent and everyone was listening to her words.

“Gosh uhm… I never thought that I would be here when I wrote this with Taika and it’s still surreal to me that we are standing here, with endless footage of the script. Firstly, I’d like to thank the crew who helped us create this amazing experience. The hair and makeup department, the costume department, the sound, camera, light crew, and our amazing set designers who made every little detail look incredible. Without all of you, we wouldn’t have a movie like this, our actors wouldn’t look like they just stepped out on the street in the 40s, and for that, I am so thankful,” she said and a round of applause filled the silence.

Y/n turned around and saw Taika standing with his hands in his pockets, also teary-eyed but with a big smile on his face.

“Without this man, I probably wouldn’t be crying here in front of you all. Taika, I will be forever and after that, grateful for you, that you pushed me and not saying that I was crazy for wanting to do a film about Nazis. You’ve been a mentor to me for years and I wouldn’t wish for anyone else. You did nothing but encourage me throughout the whole process so far and I adore you for that. I could not thank you enough for this,” the tears slid down her pink cheeks as Taika gave her a nod.

Then she looked at the cast. Her vision was slightly blurry from the tears but she saw every single one of them. Y/n could even see the tears in Scarlett’s eyes and that Roman was silently crying by her side.

“Oh gosh and you guys,” Y/n spoke but the knot in her throat made her stop for a second. “I don’t think I’ll ever have the words to express how much love I have for every single one of you. You made these characters alive, you gave them a voice, a face. Nobody would’ve done a better job than you and I wouldn’t wish for anyone else. You guys are incredible actors but mostly exceptional people. The work you all put into this project is everything we could’ve asked for and more. One day I hope we’ll work together again because I just love all of you with my whole heart.”

“This was an experience that I will never forget. You were the ones who helped me begin this amazing amazing journey. I don’t think I will ever be able to express the gratitude that I have for everyone in this room. Thank you for supporting me and believing in me despite my lack of experience. What I’m trying to say is that I love you and thank you for being a part of this amazing voyage.” She put her hands together like she was ready to pray but she bowed for their love.

y/ncole: and that’s a wrap on Jojo Rabbit!❤️ the love that was present on our set everyday was something I’ll never forget. Our cast and crew is filled with amazing people and I’ll be thanking you all for the rest of my life for making the start of this journey for me the best experience ever! Jojo Rabbit is something I can’t wait for everyone to see. The love this movie represents is something unique and special. I am biased but it truly is. Jojo Rabbit is coming to you next year, all love until then!❤️

[gayalienwilde]

My secret fairy gift to @thomtrebond one of the longest analyses I've ever written until now (so much so that I'm still working on this). Truthfully, I was afraid that The Whole Shebang podcast had already said all there was about the Oscar Wilde references in Velvet Goldmine, and it has been a while since I've read The Picture of Dorian Gray, but while writing and doing research for this (I've studied more for this analysis than I ever have for school lmao) I realised things that I hadn't thought of before so this was a surprise for me as well! Also, since this analysis is gonna be split into different parts I'll link them all once I'm done with them. I hope you enjoy your gift <3

Part one: The importance of being Jack Fairy

When thinking about Velvet Goldmine and Oscar Wilde I'm reminded of the first episode of the miniseries "Queers" (2017), although I can't stand Mark Gatiss (Sherlock trauma) this episode is well written and just thinking about it makes me cry. There will be spoilers for the episode in this analysis, so be warned.

For the people that don't care about spoilers here's a small summary of what you need to know to understand this analysis: in the episode, titled "The Man On The Platform", the protagonist, a WWI soldier, gets asked about how gay men recognise each other, and he answers saying:"A certain liquidity of the eye." Later in the episode, he recalls a story from his teen years, while waiting for a train with his family he sees a prisoner getting taken away, he meets the gaze of the prisoner for a second and he feels seen by him and thinks "He knows me for what I am", after that he learns that the prisoner is Oscar Wilde.

In Velvet Goldmine, it's the pin that creates this connection between the characters and Oscar Wilde, Jack is able to find himself and others quite like him after finding the pin, and later we have all the young queer fans relating to Curt and Brian. The movie shows that self recognition through the other is an important aspect of queer communities, having an example of queerness to relate to or be inspired by makes it possible for people to find each other and learn about themselves.

In Jack's case, Oscar Wilde is not only a connection to queerness but also an inspiration for his art. Jack Fairy is the personification of art, specifically born from aestheticism's idea of "art for art's sake" Jack's persona is just that, beauty that exists simply to be beautiful and reveal nothing, the movie adds to this by never making Jack Fairy speak, even during the Death of Glitter concert he's either reciting a poem or singing, the little we know of Jack's inner thoughts is shown in the flashback of him as a child, adult Jack Fairy is a complete mistery to us.

What's interesting about this is that, unlike Brian, we never feel that Jack's persona is a manifactured one, even if we know nothing of him, and his looks and aesthetics are obviously thought out, he still appears much more genuine than Brian. Following Wilde's idea of art as an amoral creation that never expresses anything other than itself (in true wildean paradox fashion Wilde himself doesn't always respect this rule), it then becomes obvious why it doesn't matter if we know nothing about Jack, the way he presents himself is enough to express everything he wants other people to see, he's being truthfull to himself never trying to justify or moralise his art or himself but simply being, any possible reading or interpretation about his persona becomes then nothing more than the viewer's own thoughts or ideas projected onto him and do not necessarily reflect the truth, adding to the allure of his persona and making it a perfectly malleable art medium, free of bounds or expectations (apart from beauty, which is of course what all art, according to Wilde, should strive for).

On the other hand, Brian constantly trying to add a message to his aesthetic ended up being to his detriment since what he was saying was being fed to him through the record company to attract press, not leaving then any room for interpretation and putting strict barriers around his art, and of course to define is to limit causing his entire act and persona to never be as authentic feeling as Jack's. It's clearly artificial but not in a camp way, even if it might have started off that way, the alien and uncanny later becomes fake the same way advertisement is, planned and trying to get your attention for money, reaching the peak of uncanny valley with Tommy's way too pristine looks and character.

But even after having roasted him I have to admit that Brian's character has a much bigger connection to Wilde's work than Jack does, since Jack's story is more inspired by Divine from Genet's "Notre-Dame-des-fleurs", even having a scene from the book remade almost exactly in the movie, with Jack it makes more sense to compare him to Wilde himself since, just as Wilde became one of the major exponents of aestheticism and homosexuality in England, in the movie Jack is one of the original inspirations of the Glam Rock movement and an iconic figure in the queer community of the 60s and 70s, so of course he'd be the one to find the pin and carry the legacy of Oscar Wilde.

Tune in next whenever I post it to see me roasting Brian more in part two

[karenandhenwillson]

Some thoughts about learning and communication

I wanted to start this post with a screenshot, but I can't find the post in question anymore. I thought I had seen one of the people on the side of the call out posts making a post asking if no one had learned from the situation two years ago. Maybe it was a tag or a comment on a post instead, but I can't find it again. Wherever I saw the question, I still want to answer it.

(Continue under the break again.)

The simple answer is: No, you (specifically you as the person who posted this and their friends) have not learned a single thing from the situation two years ago. Your half-apologizes, or your refusal to apologize, and the way some of you are painting themselves the victims in the first place or of now being hit by the backlash also tells me already you haven't learned from this time either.

Two years ago the whole mess finally died down for the most part after a Black author was horribly hit by the whole the general fear and haste to appear to be on the "right" side that this fandom had fallen into at this point and she was very loud and outspoken about it so that some people finally recognized the mistakes they were making. Before this Black author, there had been a Black teacher who spoke up about the whole situation, who was trying to caution the mob to calm down and trying to teach about how to approach a productive conversation about racism. 

I'm not going to dig up those screenshots, but I still want to remind everyone of her. Because she was a very outspoken and for a time loud voice, who didn't even say that all or any of the accusations where wrong but just said that the approach to all of it was wrong. She was hit with hate and messages that contained sui baiting (Feel free to DM me if you don't know what this is, it took me some time to get it, too, when I joined tumblr.) and other threats or demeaning comments or accusations she would support the racists. Some of them weren't even anon because some people claiming to be on the "right" side were horribly comfortable attacking a Black person. In the end, her voice was silenced. 

I'll repeat that last sentence again, because I think it's important: In a debate about racism in this fandom, a Black voice was silenced by the side of the crowd who claimed to be fighting against racism.

I believe she said a lot of important things. Most of them can be boiled down to something an anon said in this debate and that I already quoted in the other post:

I've realised that I will never convince anyone by publicly shaming them. I might be able to silence them, but I won't convince them.

The communication both this week and two years ago failed completely. In parts for the same two major reasons we have seen this week, too:

1. Some of the people involved have taken everything said to them in horribly bad faith or willfully misinterpreted things that were said.

2. The artist in this case barely speaks English and needs a translation tool for all their communication. Two years ago from the very beginning, people were involved on both sides whose first language isn't English either and no matter how good they are at English or how much they write in their free time, it's still a barrier. (I'll detail an example for this later on.)

The first point compounded with the second point led to people, especially on the side of those accusing others of several things, twisting the things that were allegedly said in a horrific way. (As already mentioned, two years ago the accusation of racism wasn't the beginning but just the thing that "finally" found traction. I'm not sharing the screenshot of that here either because no one who was hurt two years ago deserves it to be brought up again more than it already has been. But I have proof that this didn't start over Chimney, that the very first iteration of the lists that were eventually created and widely shared was all about Maddie.)

We have seen this in a very glaring example this time. The artist was accused of claiming Jee-Yun had lighter skin than either of her parents, but when the screenshot of that part of the conversation was eventually shared, it turned out the artist was much more likely talking about a child she knew who she had brought up as a reference in the sentence before. I also fully believe the artist when they say the next part about "her skin getting lighter when she gets older" (again in reference to the child they know, not in reference to Jee-Yun, as was claimed long before that screenshot was shared) to be a mistake of the translation tool used. I've seen these kinds of mistakes in the artist’s post, and also in the private conversations I've had with them in the meantime.

I promised to share an example of how communication can be difficult between people with different first languages. There is, of course, the whole cultural side of it all that the artist already pointed out in their last post about the debate. There is the whole thing about different mindsets, about experience and perceiving the world, about how different cultures will view things differently without being aware of the differences even if they are aware to generally not know much about the other culture they are meeting.

These differences will be found in the language and how each of them uses them, too. And I'd not hesitate to bet a lot of money that most people never think about some of these differences in the use of the very same words if they aren't linguists.

English isn't my first language. I've had, in fact, a very difficult time to learn English at all. But I'm still interested in languages for several reason. When I was a child, I spent a lot of time with Czech friends, so I learned a little Czech from them. I didn't really keep any of it into adulthood because the friends moved away. I've learned French and Latin in school beside English, and after school I spent a little time learning Korean. So, I think I can safely say I've gotten familiar with more languages than many people.

I was still completely ignorant of some translations errors specifically concerning the discussion about racism until I started to get involved in English conversations about it.

There is no word for race in my language. But there is a word that sounds nearly identically, that has the exact same linguistical root as "race", but that has historically a completely different meaning. This word, my teachers would call it a false-friends as it sounds so similar to race, is one of the most horrifically racist and dehuminzing words you can use in my language while talking about another human being. 

If you put that word in any translation tool, it will come back as "breed" in English. But it also will come back as "race". So of course, when I started to breach this topic in English, I assumed race and the word in my language to mean the same. Very, very slowly the English word "race" is adopted into my language so we'll have a word with the same meaning in our language without having to invent something completely new. Because there is no way to rebrand the similar sounding word of my language.

Can you imagine how I felt about using the word "race" for a very long time? I felt so horrifically offended every time it came up and tried to tell myself that, of course, in other parts of the world the history was different so using that word while talking about humans wasn't the tabu I had grown up with. But using the word still made me sick, so for a long time I talked around it, used other words (ethnicity as an example, because the direct translation of that is what my language uses mostly to get the same meaning across as the English "race"). 

No one ever called me out for it. But since I stumbled by pure chance about an article describing the differences between the two words, I'm wondering what people thought about my word choice. Did they think I was just bad at English? Did they think I was uncomfortable with the topic as a whole? Did they think I might try to hide that their opinion about equality was different from my own? Did I ever say anything horribly offensive without being aware of it because I was trying to not use the word "race"?

I never asked anyone about it, either. I'm also still often feeling uncomfortable using the word "race", but I think I've gotten better in expressing myself.

There is a similar problem with "racism". There is a word for it in my language in this case. And again, it sounds very similar. Just as race and racism have the same linguistical root, the two similar sounding words in my language have the same roots as well. And still in the case of racism, the word in my language actually has the same meaning.

But here is the problem: English also has the word "bigotry" and my language uses the similar word to racism with both the meaning of racism and the meaning of bigotry depending on the context. That's also something I didn't know for a long time until a friend once said there was a difference between racism and bigotry and I went to look it up because from the translation into my language I thought them to be synonyms.

Those are things I learned because I was actively participating in conversations about racism in English speaking spaces and exposed to those words. But it took me years to learn it, long after I considered myself mostly fluid in English. I honestly don't know how I should have come into that topic and known that there were these kinds of very subtle differences I needed to learn about.

It's a lesson that stayed with me in a very permanent way. It's a realization I won't forget for the rest of my life, I believe. Every time I talk to a person who hasn't grown up with the same first language as me, I am very aware of this lesson. And I try to use that lesson in every single of these conversations, though especially when emotions run high that's not always working.

Maybe sharing this lesson will be enough to raise awareness for the ongoing language barrier between non-native speakers of any language no matter how well the foreign language is spoken. Maybe my experience can teach others to be gentler in all their conversations and in how they react to things that appear to be rude at first.

There has been a lot of talk about teaching and learning. Two years ago, and now again. And I believe with my full heart that nothing that was said from the people behind the call out posts to the artist was teaching at all. I my opinion, it wasn't even an attempt of teaching. The following are my thoughts as a teacher in a family of teachers. (I have a wealth of sources, but I really don't care to put the work into finding the English version of it to provide them for you. Please do your own research.)

Teaching is about exchange, about talking freely, about asking questions from both sides and discussing the answers to those question. And maybe sometimes even about not answering the questions but letting the student discover that answer on their own. Teaching is about respect, and about giving room to grow, and about working with the student instead of against them.

A student has to be able to ask questions, to voice their thoughts and opinions without fear. Without fear of being ridiculed, of being lectured, of being punished, of being abused verbally or physically.

Student and teacher both have to have room to make mistakes, to backtrack their steps, to even lose progress. In an ideal situation, the teacher learns just as much about the student as the student learns about the subject. 

The teacher learns how their student thinks and processes input, they learn how their student learns and how they talk and hold their body if they are sure or unsure of something. The teacher finds new ways to explain something when every other explanation that helped other students fails. A teacher takes on the responsibility to stay calm and understanding, no matter how often their student fails.

If you don't give a student this freedom of fear, if the teacher can't muster that patience with their students, you end up in a situation where no one learns anything. If the teacher expects the students to just take everything they lecture about, to never question it, to never discuss it without using the exact same phrases they taught it in, what you are ending up in is a dictatorship. A place where some leader tells everyone else exactly what they are allowed to think and feel and say. And everyone who steps out of that approved way to think and feel and talk will be perceived as a danger and be punished. It will create an atmosphere of general fear.

You don't teach people by shaming them and attacking them. That will only make them hate you and believe your cause to be faulty if not outright wrong by default. You teach them by keeping an open mind yourself, by listening to them as much as you expect them to listen to you, by not finding the most horribly way to understand their words but by giving them the benefit of the doubt, by admitting that you can be wrong, too, and by taking responsibility if you are wrong.

There are so many places, so many topics where people are hurt, where people have to fight every day for their basic rights. You aren't making the world a better place by bringing more violence into it, no matter how much you claim to have good intentions.