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takeariskao3 · 1 year ago

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Day 7: Lover written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3

a version of this has existed since may of 2020 and it feels so good to finally put it into the universe after sitting on it for three (THREE!) years... i have a feeling i will continue this at some point and hopefully turn it into a full blow fic, but until then, enjoy some non-traditional, pandemic themed, sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics <33

They said it started in China. At the annual festival in Shanghai.

Some experts claimed the mutation originated because of an uncharacteristically dry winter. Some blamed climate change. Others said it was all part of the cyclical nature of the earth. A purification process. Nature taking its course.

The more hysterically minded said it was the end of the fucking world.

Either way, Ginny watched in horror with the rest of Edinburgh as more and more reports flooded the news.

All across the northern hemisphere, the cherry trees were blossoming, and people were going mad.

~~~

The thing about fear was that it spread like wildfire.

Grocery stores emptied of necessities overnight. The Prime Minister issued stay at home orders, some of the more populated areas even attempted a voluntary curfew. Borders were closed, air traffic came to a grinding halt, restaurants were instructed to only offer takeout, and any non-essential businesses were told to close their doors entirely.

For a while, it all felt over-cautious.

At least until the first case hit Cardiff.

They said the little omega lasted three days in a severe heat until the pain and the dehydration finally rendered her unconscious. Her family rushed her to the emergency room and it was another two days before the hospital identified what was happening to her. They said before she was quarantined, she infected almost thirty people, nine of them hospital staff.

It spread from twenty-nine confirmed cases to over three-hundred within a week, three-hundred became eight-thousand within the month.

And that was just Wales.

~~~

Birmingham was the third city to reach critical levels of contamination, after Liverpool and Manchester.

They projected a global spread, the more densely populated areas being hit first. Each day the estimates increased, predicting numbers so catastrophic, there hadn’t been anything like it in over five-hundred years.

The real test, however, was London.

There were reports that all the major cabinet members had been moved to separate and secure locations. That way if any of them contracted the sickness, at the very least, they wouldn’t infect the rest of the country's leaders.

The worst part was nobody seemed to know anything. Records of the last pandemic were inconclusive or didn’t exist. No one knew how long the sickness lasted or how debilitating it really was. Less reliable news sources even reported deaths when the first wave hit eastern China, rumours spreading of alphas ripping each other apart over the chance to mate an omega.

But that’s all they were.

Rumours.

~~~

Designation had never mattered much to Ginny. It was just something stamped on her birth certificate next to seven pounds two ounces, eighteen inches long. Her ruts weren’t dramatic events, they were hardly even a disruption. Four times a year, she’d get the urge, use her fingers on herself three nights in a row and wait out the subsequent five days of bleeding.

Designation also hasn’t mattered to the world in decades. Suppressants went out of fashion after the turn of the century, the human race’s more animalistic instincts fading with each generation until the ruts and heats became nothing more than quarterly nuisances. Only a very small percentage of the population still needed herbs and homoeopathic blockers to get by, the rest went about their lives business as usual.

Humanity had evolved past such trivial things as Alpha, Beta, and Omega.

But now, it was all anyone could talk about.

~~~

Dawdling around the townhouse, Ginny took her frustrations out in the form of kneading a lumpy, soon to be loaf of bread while half listening to the news. Her television emitted a scratchy noise every few seconds, but for a dumpster dive, it worked fine enough. Especially since for the six weeks she’d been stuck at home, she’d hardly turned the damn thing off.

It wasn’t so much that she was dedicated to being informed, she just couldn’t bear the silence.

No honking cars, no nosy tourists, no shouting street vendors.

It was quiet in an uncomfortable way, in an unnatural way. In a way that left Ginny too much alone with her own thoughts.

As she punched the dough down as hard as she could, her telly warbled out an odd static followed by the evening news anchor chatting animatedly with a couple who supposedly recovered from the sickness.

“And you think having each other,” the journalist asked in disbelief, “helped speed up your recovery?”

“We realise it sounds a bit crazy, we aren’t even sure if there is science to support it–” a male voice responded. He sounded rational enough even though what he was saying went against every directive of social distancing. “But I’m an alpha, and my wife is an omega. When we both came down with it, we decided to stay home and wait it out together. Within a week or so we felt completely back to normal...”

Ginny snorted. The hospitals reported the illness lasting between twelve to fifteen days, not seven. And what were their credentials besides claiming to have been infected? The news station could interview anyone off the street. They’d probably interview her if she claimed she danced naked, covered in chicken’s blood beneath the full moon and it spared her. If anything, the segment was irresponsible. Now people were going to go out looking for a sex partner for the week.

Sighing at the downturn in journalistic integrity, she tuned out the rest of the interview, content to bask in the early May breeze wafting through the open windows.

Until she heard the squeak of brakes slow to a stop out front.

And muffled voices.

Followed by a car door slamming shut.

She’d just begun to wonder which bluenose neighbour had arrived to hole up in a holiday house when footsteps scuffed up the stone walk, her stone walk, and a key slid into the lock of her front door.

The knob turned, the door clicked open, and Ginny stood rooted to the spot, covered in flour as her landlord (slash older brother’s best mate) appeared framed on the stoop.

At first, Harry didn’t notice her. He stepped inside, careful to scrub his shoes on the mat before closing the door behind him and dropping his duffle unceremoniously in the foyer. He looked the same as he had nearly a year ago. He scratched a hand through the disaster hair piled atop his head then patted it all down again. His glasses were the same, and he still had the same little divot permanently etching his brow into a scowl. Beneath his anorak she could tell his lean frame still gave way to lanky limbs that shifted into slender fingers.

Then the telly switched programs, the News giving way to some crime documentary, or something. Ginny wasn’t actually paying attention. At the change in music, Harry froze with his back halfway to her and his shoulders went tight.

Then he turned on the spot, and he finally registered Ginny’s presence tucked away in the kitchen at the back of the house.

Their gazes held for several beats too long, both of them wide-eyed and startled by the existence of the other in such close proximity.

Ginny’s heart thundered inside her chest, in a way that was achingly familiar and entirely unwelcome.

“What are you– I didn’t think–” Harry stammered quickly. “Ron said he was meeting you back home?”

“He was,” Ginny answered, just as flustered. “I’d planned on it but– I couldn’t– I mean, I…changed my mind.”

Harry dug his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses and swore softly. He looked a bit peaky.

“Christ, I’m an idiot,” He croaked. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured, not quite sure why she was pardoning his intrusion. “It’s still your house.”

They stared at each other in the silence for several beats too long, both of them seemingly at a loss for what to do next.

“Er–” Harry finally stammered, a grin taking over his face. “Hi, by the way.”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah... long time, no see.”

They went in for a hug at the same time, but it was too light and too quick to feel natural. As he pulled away, Harry averted his gaze and let his eyes wander around the hall and the front two rooms.

“Is Luna…” he trailed off, as if those two words were question enough.

Ginny realised she was still covered in baking powder and half finished dough. She grabbed a tea towel from the hook and wiped her hands just for something to look at besides him. “She and her Dad were visiting family in Hamburg when the stay at home orders hit. She’s been stuck there for over a month. They can’t get a flight home.”

Harry nodded and let out a deep exhale of sympathy. “Fuck, yeah, that’d be awful.” He paused, shooting her a furtive glance. “And you? How–how are you?”

“Yeah, fine,” One half of her mouth tipped into a smile. “You?”

Shaking his head as if in thought, his hands fidgeted slightly in front of him. “Well, London is a disaster. They aren’t letting anyone leave their homes, or letting anyone into town. They’re letting people leave, but it took me ten days just to get approval to hop a train. I figured it couldn’t be so bad up here, you know? That’s why I…”

He trailed off again and Ginny wondered if he’d become incapable of finishing a coherent sentence in the time since she’d seen him last.

“Makes sense,” she nodded generously.

Harry remained exactly where he was, awkwardly perched on the welcome mat.

“You can come in,” Ginny asserted and he flinched a bit like he hadn’t expected to actually be allowed to stay.

“Right,” he cleared his throat and stepped forward like a man walking the plank.

Busying herself with the kettle, she tried not to be too aware of his progress through the sitting room.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wave to the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Ginny grinned. The house held tell-tale signs of being solely occupied by her for the last month and a half. Stray jumpers, and rumpled throw pillows, and forgotten cups of tea sat scattered all around. The dishes in the sink were piled several days too high and the bananas on her countertop were just a shade too brown.

“It’s a disaster,” she corrected, pulling her last two bags of tea out of the cupboard.

Harry flashed her a smile, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “I mean the furniture and things. The colours.”

“The colours?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yeah,” he hummed, finally inching his way fully into the kitchen. He swallowed as his eyes settled on her once more. “It looks nice. Cosy.”

Snorting, she pulled her nearly empty carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “A sight better than when you and Ron lived here, you mean?”

That fleeting smirk again, there and then gone. “Do you know our sofa broke in two when we tried to move it out?”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest.”

Ginny poured and they both chuckled. She passed him one of the mugs and the milk, remembering how he took it. She reckoned it was one of those things she’d never forget. Like the opening to her favourite Spice Girls’ song, or her childhood phone number, or the rhymes to bonfire night. Two plus two equals four and Harry took his tea with milk, no sugar.

He tipped a splash into his cup, seemed to hesitate for a second, and then burst, “I can get a room. There’s got to be a hotel open in Old Town–”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ginny cut across him, spooning a heap of sugar into her own tea. Again, she wasn’t quite sure why she was contradicting him, but she refused to chase the thought down, because then she’d have to acknowledge that somewhere deep down she wanted him to stay.

“Ginny,” he croaked. “I can’t intrude like this. I’ll figure something out. I’ll go stay at Sirius’ place in the country, or–”

“Harry,” she interrupted him again. “It’s your house.”

He seemed determined to put himself out. “But I can’t just show up out of the blue and–”

“Luna took your old room–” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I mean, you pay rent!” Now he was just talking to himself. “I had no right–”

“And she’s obviously not using it–” Ginny reasoned, though the ramifications of what she was suggesting crept up on her in a gradual recognition of awareness.

“I bet the Chisholm Hunter has rooms–”

“Harry!” she cut across him in humoured agitation. “It’s fine. Stay tonight, or the next few days, or a week, until you figure it out. It’s fine.”

He blinked, the furrow between his brows deepening in thought. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she lied, like a liar. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was kind of a big deal, but she could handle it.

“You said they aren’t letting people into London, right?” Ginny continued. “What are you going to do? Rent a room until they let you go back home? That could be months!”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it again and exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Yeah, alright,” He conceded. “But only until I can get ahold of Sirius. Then, I swear, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The statement stung, just a little. As if getting out of her sight was vastly preferable than remaining in it.

“Where is he?” Ginny asked instead, lifting her mug to her mouth as if completely unaffected.

Harry pulled out his mobile and punched in his passcode. “Australia. Apparently their cherry trees don’t bloom until September.”

A scoff bubbled up in the back of her throat. “Lucky Australia.”

He muttered something that sounded like agreement and pressed the phone to his ear. As he meandered back into the sitting room, Ginny turned her cupboards in search of biscuits. Surely, she still had a package left somewhere.

Harry returned within moments. “Didn’t answer.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Isn’t it like three in the morning?”

Harry gave her a flat look. “It’s Sirius.”

She laughed. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Something in his expression sparked at her reaction and it made the breath in her lungs go shallow.

Just like his smiles, the flare of something was there and then gone in an instant. She tried not to feel the familiarity of it, really she did, but something hollowed out spread through her middle at the reminder of her nearly debilitating infatuation, and then its eventual collapse.

Ginny cleared her throat, coming back to her senses. “So, you said it took you forever to get a train ticket. Have they decreased the routes?”

“Oh, erm–” Harry took a sip of tea that was clearly too hot for his mouth and he winced. “Yeah, and they’re checking into everyone who books.”

Understanding washed over her. “Right, so they make sure people aren’t…”

Great, now she was incapable of finishing her sentences.

He looked to her uncomfortably. “I hadn’t actually ever seen my birth certificate, I just always figured I was a Beta. Had to have a Doctor check me over once to make sure I wasn’t — you know — that I hadn’t gone unidentified.”

“Right, good. Nice.”

Why exactly was it nice? She should really stop talking.

“Is that why you…” He gestured vaguely south with one hand. “Couldn’t…go home?”

“Oh, er-” Ginny resisted the urge to cringe. “No.”

In reality, she’d had plenty of time to book a train to Devon before they started restricting the passengers who were designated one way or the other, but she hadn’t had the funds.

Harry’s gaze sharpened in curiosity.

“Do you want to put your stuff upstairs?” she asked brightly. “You must be knackered after travelling all day.”

~~~

Ginny retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against the sink. Shortly after Harry had settled into Luna’s room, his old room, she’d heard his mobile ring. His muffled voice through the mostly closed door had been maddening, and nearly too tempting to eavesdrop on, so she’d escaped.

She was half-torn. One part of her wished Sirius was offering up his country house to his godson immediately, and the other part hoped there was some flood, or fire, or other natural disaster that made it inhabitable.

Because the prospect of spending time with someone, but especially him; to not be alone hour after hour and day after day, was almost too exquisite to contemplate.

Christ, she was hopeless.

With nothing better to do than simmer in her own thoughts, Ginny turned the taps to the bath and adjusted the temperature until the shower spray was borderline scorching. She spent an excessive amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. She didn’t bother trying to figure out if she was doing it consciously or subconsciously, but she did know she was avoiding the end of her shower. Because as soon as she left the bath, she’d find out if he was staying or going.

Both scenarios felt too formidable to contemplate.

Eventually, though, the water ran cold, and Ginny couldn’t hide any longer.

After brushing her teeth, applying night cream, and wrapping herself up in her dressing gown, Ginny yanked open the bathroom door to find Harry standing directly in the doorway, with his fist raised as if to knock.

“Oh, sorry–” He muttered, his gaze flitting down her body and back up again. His face flushed just enough to notice. “That was Sirius,” he continued. “I can stay at his place, so I’ll be out of here as soon as I can book a train.”

Ginny pulled in a breath and did her best to keep it even. “Right. Good.”

She felt anything but good.

Squeezing past him and into the hallway, she kept her expression bright and open until she was safe inside her bedroom.

In her haste, she missed the way his eyes fluttered shut as she passed.

~~~

That night was unseasonably hot. The forecast had called for it to be a mild week, balmy and temperate, so Ginny wasn’t sure why the air wafting in through her open window felt so stifling. As she tossed and turned, a light sheen of sweat clung to her skin, and she contemplated the merits of another shower. This time a cold one.

She settled for a glass of water instead.

Padding down the hall toward the stairs, Ginny skirted past Luna’s room as quickly and quietly as she could. However, in the end, stealth didn’t matter.

Harry was already in the kitchen, propped up against the sink and looking pale.

“You okay?” Ginny muttered, taking a tentative step forward.

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry kept his head down and nodded. “I don’t know what’s happened to my stomach. Food poisoning or something–”

“I may have some Pepti upstairs?”

Harry nodded again.

She took a step closer, reaching for a glass from the shelf when the scent hit her. It smelled like fresh spring mornings, and the citrus of Earl Grey tea, and the warmth of never being alone. It smelled like home.

Every instinct she had screamed at her to take in more of it, to surround herself in it. Harry’s eyes met hers through the dim light and she saw him pull in a deep inhale through flared nostrils.

In an instant, her mind was restless and her body uncomfortably warm. Parts of her she didn’t know could ache, gnawed and cramped in time with her too loud pulse.

She dropped the glass she’d been holding at the same time Harry lept backwards.

In some corner of her mind, she knew what was happening. All of the doctors listed the same symptoms over and over; heightened senses, irregular body temperature, lower-abdominal cramps, increased libido. However, she was firmly ignoring the signs… especially the last one. It was much easier to dismiss her body’s immediate urges as coincidence. Otherwise, she would also have to admit what triggered it.

For fuck’s sake, Harry triggered it.

But that would mean he–

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

#hinny #severalsunlitdaylights #hinny fic #a/b/o #harry/ginny #harry x ginny #my fic

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spearxwind · 1 year ago

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been thinking a lot about my different oc worlds recently. ive said before ive got four, but technically it's five if you count extinction.

im gonna put all my thoughts under a readmore bc once again this got insanely long jkllkjjkf. i be rambling

most of my attention has definitely been going into challenger deep the past year (and will likely continue), recently i refurbished hollowridge as well and have had a lot of fun with it (even if i havent drawn much to show for it...)

the other two of the set of four i originally posted about are my agony drive and broken horizon settings. Broken horizon is more of a personal headworld where ive set my dragon ocs, but I have not really been successful with it in terms of like. worldbuilding and crafting a story for it, mostly because there are very few characters in it currently and i struggle with it. But it's the world where cercerion and my sona dima (as an oc) exist. i would love to actually do a better job with it sometime but it currently isnt a huge priority because ive been focused on the other two main ones (but again since its just a personal headworld it literally is just some place i like to mentally hang out and fly around in, im not super bothered by it being undeveloped.)

However we have the two troublemaker worlds now

the agony drive setting has been driving me more than a little nuts because of its whole situation with it. i absolutely adore the characters i have in it, but i have no idea what to do with the world itself. it used to be a joint project so i was extremely limited in the way i could develop it bc i depended on the other individual enjoying the ideas and i did my best to keep it afloat almost being the sole contributor to it, so now that its liberated i just didnt know what to do with it. i do like a bunch of the lore bits i came up with but some part of me is like 'idk if i enjoy this as a world' bc it still feels limited in some way? Another issue is that while hollowridge (previously my horror and slapstick gore setting with demons/angels/magic vibes) was dead in the water, i channeled that violence slapstick demon/magic vibe through TAD, but getting a focus back on hollowridge has kinda just. straight up deleted a bunch of TAD's reason to exist? i dont know if that makes sense

HR isnt really that much slapstick violence because death is final, and TAD is more cartoony in that sense bc death ISNT final which is its main reason to exist (unlimited violent major character death for the funnies), but theres a weird overlap that is keeping me from focusing correctly because it makes my brain go 'you are doing the same thing twice'

I would really really love to actually turn it into something fun and unique (separate from my other worlds) but i really havent been sure how to go about it because of that overlap. i genuinely think its just a problem of 'you have to actually develop the setting to have fun in it' and i just havent been able to do that yet bc i cant decide what i want it to BE. TAD has also never really had a lot of story to begin with so it makes things harder bc the story is the vehicle to explore the world with. its pretty frustrating bc midas set and david are some of my fav ocs ive made and i miss them but god dammit if it isnt hard to actually work with the whole thing....

and last but not least... the fifth one. extinction. a lot of you probably know this one from my comic. if youve been here since like... 2014-2015 (which would be insane) you might remember me beginning to develop that story until it eventually became the comic that is currently sitting unfinished and feels like a huge weight on my shoulders just out of sheer shame

the issue with extinction is that it was a lot of characters that i deeply loved (and still i still deeply love!!) all with fun plotlines, backstories, and a lot of fun tidbits to em that i ended up bending and breaking dozens of times just for the purpose of fitting them into a relatively short story that i could draw out and finish. and more importantly into something i hoped would be handleable instead of spiralling out of control like it had happened before

but what i didnt realize is that by doing so, i "locked" their lore in place into these very small boxes that would fit into a story, and thus i would remove what i had loved about those characters and their interactions that i had come up with years and years ago and a lot of my very very cool ideas for them simply went out the window in favor of .... well i dont. know. but off it went

i live in complete shame for not being able to finish the comic. it genuinely is a huge and extremely heavy weight on my shoulders and this whole thing has prevented me from even thinking of said ocs for years now even though they are some of my oldest and most beloved. saying all of this is not something i take lightly in the least as well

so recently I have been thinking about bringing them back as well... maybe (to the extent that i can... i have a lot of ocs and you guys know i have a lot of bias when drawing faves. so i cant guarantee content but at least i would be able to think about them again).

essentially the same way that i rewrote and got back my old concepts for hollowridge that slapped hard i want to get back my original ideas for extinction that i thought were really cool and just wasnt able to fit into a comic narrative

obviously this would come with a lot of retconning and i know a lot of people will probably not like it if i do it and i think thats something i have to face and learn to live with

but yeah anyways. TLDR is i really want to actually do something proper for TAD but have been having a lot of trouble with it unfortunately, but im working on it. and ive also been feeling rly nostalgic about extinction so you might see the characters again, albeit different in terms of story from what you probably know

#again please feel free to drop a like if you read all that and thank you very kindly if you did read it #thunderclap #long post #idk what to tag this as honestly #the agony drive #extinction #yeah since its these two that im mostly talking about. houhh #i know i have been having a lot of trouble answering DMs and such i rly wanna get to them sometime this week if possible #but honestly if you have anything youd like to discuss pertinent to this feel free to reach out #im going to try to do my best to respond. actually maybe ill do it right now #thank you again!! hope u have an awesome day

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mangoshorthand · 2 years ago

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Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 3 (Hard Feelings Part 2)

SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates) Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

An overheard conversation causes a fight and a visit to Santi's school ends in a sinister suspicion.

Fashy Five below. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter 3: Übermensch

It’s been a long day at work. After lunch with your best friend, you returned to the office to find everyone panicking: one of your firm’s biggest clients unexpectedly decided to jump ship and your boss, Joe, was on the prowl, looking for someone to blame.

When he seemed primed to blame one of your subordinates (who had only worked on a single project with them), you stepped in to defend her.

In pointing out that there were many compound reasons (mostly unrelated to your team) for the client to not renew their contract, it naturally became your fault according to Joe for approaching the issue by ‘bringing problems rather than solutions’.

So when you come in from work that night, frustrated and stressed, all you want is a cuddle and a head massage. You kick off your heels in the hallway and head in the direction of Five’s voice, issuing from the living room. “-not worth you being upset about.” “But they’re mean!” “And I’m telling you: what they think shouldn’t matter to you.” Santi sounds upset. You lurk in the entrance hall, not wanting to break in on this. Even with all the stress of this afternoon, you’ve kept thinking about his sad little voice this morning. You think maybe a talk with his uncle is just what he needs. “There will always be mean people. Has it occurred to you that they’re mean because they’re jealous? Maybe part of them knows you’re special and they’re not. Don’t let them push you around. Fight back, kick the crap out of them.” You’d been intending to head up to the attic and wait for Five there, but this and the timbre of Five’s voice gives you pause. “I don’t have nobody to play with.”

Santi’s voice sounds small. Five sighs, “Well, I’m not going to lie to you, little man. Ours is a lonely life. We’re not like other people.” “…I’m like Alyssa.” A short silence follows. “Sure, Alyssa’s a nice friend," Five answers slowly, "But she’s not on our level. None of them are.” You lean into the door frame, hand against ornately carved dark wood. You can just picture him as he says it. Leaned back in an armchair by the fire, legs crossed. His ‘man-to-man’ tone is particularly off-putting. It’s as if he’s about to offer Santi a cigar and a glass of cognac. “Huh?” “The problem with having our gifts, Santi? They set us apart from other people. We’re stronger, we’re faster. We’re exceptional.”

The word niggles at you, ringing tiny alarm bells. Maybe he’s just phrased it poorly? “What does esseptional mean?” Santi asks. “Exceptional: Extraordinary. Above and beyond normal people. We can do things they can’t do, have lives they could never dream of. We’re just better than them.” There’s a pause now. This is more than poor phrasing. You feel like you should stop this, but there’s just a void where the volition to act might be; to hear the man you love speaking like this…and to a child? It’s chilling. It sends a little rush of anger into your chest, a little spike of adrenaline.

When Five’s voice drifts to you again, he’s contemplative. “Y’know Santi- it could be we’re the next stage. For humans, I mean. But for now it means that we have a lot of responsibility and a lot of burdens to bear.”

You find you share a certain telepathy with Klaus, and today is no different. He’s sensed your mood. So far, your quietness has fallen under Five’s radar, occupied as he is with Santi. For now, it’s just nice to have another adult around to act as a buffer between you. This adult in particular is especially welcome: his personality can fill the absence of at least three others. Tonight, he’s more than usually voluble, perhaps in a deliberate attempt to shield you. Now, he encourages Santi to play with his pad thai. As Five struggles to restore some semblance of table manners, Klaus forms a couple of noodles into a second mustache and pulls a face at him. “Don’t listen to him Santi, he’s trying to stifle our creativity!”

“Yeah Uncle Five, don’t stifle us!” Santi giggles, wearing a shrimp as a nose ring. Klaus looks over at you, in the hope of extorting a smile. You give him one. In that small, but expressive moment, a small conversation passes between you. Feeling better?No, but thanks for this. Removing the shrimp, Five says: “If Mommy comes home to find Santi eating like this then it will be Uncle Five’s balls she puts in a vice, so I’d thank you not to do that.” Santi laughs more at the word balls.

Once Santi is in bed, Klaus makes himself deliberately scarce, sensing a discussion is needed between you even when Five doesn’t. He announces his intent to retire to his studio with odd ceremoniousness, letting you know that the floor is yours before he leaves you and Five alone in the living room. Five himself sits in one of the leather armchairs by the fireplace, holding a glass of scotch in his fireside hand. He looks exactly as you’d imagined him in the overheard conversation, lounging with legs crossed. You're sat on the far couch, almost as far away as the room can divide you. He doesn’t notice your eyes boring into the back of his head. Eventually, he turns his head and smiles, uncrossing his legs and holding out his arm to you in a gesture of supplication. He wants you to walk over, take that hand and maybe sit on his lap. You don’t move.

“We need to talk.”

A shadow crosses his face: concern, confusion and guardedness. You can see the defensiveness building before he even knows what you’re going to say.

“I’m all ears, dear one,” he says, smile rather forced. “Did you mean what you said?” “Huh?” “In here, today: what you said to Santi.” It takes a second for him to place what you’re referring to.. “Oh. Yeah…sure I did.” he looks nonplussed. “Is that a problem?” “You told him to kick the crap out of them.” “And?” “They’re seven years old.” He raises his eyebrows, amused.

“So? I could hold my own in a fight at that age. I had my first mission when I was nine.” “Exactly,” you scoff “and how did that work out for you?” He looks at you darkly and then looks moodily away into the empty fireplace. You continue to stare at him…encouraging Santi to violence wasn’t the worst of it. You try to give voice to what’s particularly worried you. “Do you think your powers give you some sort of…right over people?” “What?” his voice is icy. “You were saying you were the ‘next stage’ for humans or whatever.” He sighs exasperatedly: “Of course it sounds bad if you say it like that.” “You said you were all better than normal people.” “Well,” he shrugs, “we are.” “You think you’re some kind of…Übermensch?” He balks at the word, head whipping round to face you. “Don't be ridiculous." You let out a derisive ‘ha’ of humorless laughter. “Come on, Five. I might be just an unpowered normie but I recognize fascist bullshit when I hear it!” “Fascist?” You don’t give him the time to formulate a response, the blood’s pumping in your head now. Usually, you default to tears in anger but today’s different. “So what about me? Am I on your ‘level’ or am I lower functioning or something?” “Don’t be so dramatic. You know I think you’re smart.” “Do you? Or is it that it’s nice to have me around? Maybe I’m nice to look at, maybe I make you laugh, maybe I make you feel less alone and maybe I’m smart enough but at the end of the day, I’m basically on the level of a labrador you can fuck?” Five slams his glass down and stands up. His hands go into his pockets and his jaw sets. He takes a full ten seconds to get himself under some semblance of control. You can see the unuttered invectives flickering in his eyes. Finally, he speaks in clipped tones. "Funny. Now you mention it, you're certainly not acting like a being capable of higher thought." Your eyes lock in confrontation; both daring each other to step even further over the line. The rage between you is directly proportional to the intensity of your love, its presence making the slung comments all the more sore. Your jaw sets as his chin tilts. When he speaks again, his would-be-casual tone belies the resentment simmering beneath: "I think it’s best if I have an early night and give you a chance to calm down.”He heads for the door, his speed proving his continued anger. As he sweeps through the entrance hall, you yell after him “Okay, Mengele. No need to wait up!”

The next few days were frosty. Though you both took care to play nice in front of Santi, it’s been hard to stop the atmosphere affecting him.

After the fight, all you wanted to do was call Ellie to vent, but you thought better of it after thinking about how she was over your lunch that day. She’s having a hard time of things herself at the moment, having just lost her grandmother, and it wouldn’t be right to bother her with this.

Furthermore, you didn’t want to inflame things further between Five and herself.They seriously butted heads when you were unconscious after your beating courtesy of Michael Monroe.

He’d stayed broodingly at your bedside, sleep deprived and guilt-ridden. His attitude then had been one of snappish, slightly mad intensity. He had no time for Ellie’s feeling of greater claim over you, insisting that her care would be useless beside his ability to reverse time and bring you back from the dead if necessary.

While he might have been technically correct, the vibes he gave off didn't exactly endear him to her. Though they’d been polite to each other since, you didn’t want to solidify that bad first impression by saying something to her that you might later regret. There was nobody else to talk to. Were she here, Lila would have leapt at the chance to trash-talk Five.Klaus was another option, perceptive as he is but, as Five’s brother, you thought his loyalty would always sway too far in his direction.

So, that night, still boiling with rage, you slept in one of the many spare bedrooms, thinking with satisfaction about him sleeping fitfully alone in the attic. Let him wake up panicking with one of his nightmares and see if he feels like ‘the next stage for humans’ then.

On some nights, he wakes brushing imagined ash out of his eyes and panting. It can take him a few minutes to remember that he’s home and safe, no longer having to eat bugs or scavenge expired food from wreckage. So, you soothe him, propped up on your elbow, whispering comfort and stroking his hair. In the worst of these, he shrinks from your touch, wide-pupiled eyes rolling and unseeing; like a rabbit caught in a trap. On other nights still, you’re wrenched from sleep by a screaming, bolt upright figure beside you. Often, these cries are formless, but sometimes he shouts for you, for Dolores or one of his siblings. Then, just as suddenly as he sat up, he’s lying down and asleep again, never truly awake.

He doesn’t remember these episodes when he wakes up, and you stopped telling him about them months ago. The idea that his mind could work in ways of which he is not conscious is unbearable to him. Night terrors, of course, being for lesser mortals than he.

But, as upset as you were, you only spent that first night away from Five’s bed. Your spiteful feelings about his night-time fears faded by the morning, to be replaced by guilt at ever having had them. After your first transports of rage were over, the idea of him waking up alone and terrified was unconscionable to you.

Your love for him is now more fundamental than you’d like: how much easier to be able to punish him, to not care about his terror? You couldn’t leave him alone for long when his own mind betrays him. Over the next few days, you fall into an uneasy truce, contingent on the unspoken agreement that neither of you mention that day again. When he comes to you with a request a few days later, you keep your tone intentionally polite and neutral. “I got a forwarded email from Diego. There’s a meeting at the school I need to go to.” “Oh?” “Yeah. Something about student support for the second grade. It sounded quite urgent. “Alyssa?” “Probably.” “Do you think she’s deteriorated?” He shrugs and sighs, “Unlikely this soon, but I don’t know. Would you be happy to take Santi tonight and get him some dinner?” “Yes. No problem. We’ve been talking about going to the movies anyway.” “Thank you, dear one.” It’s the first time he’s used this endearment since the fight.

The school is a collection of sleek, modern buildings that simply reek of investment. Evidence of recent building work is apparent, with one building still covered entirely in scaffold. Hung from this is a huge lime-green banner, proclaiming: JUICED: X-PANDING YOUNG MINDS. Holbrook Elementary's new planetarium, opening soon!Five follows the trickle of parents through the main entrance and into a hallway that, to him at least, is an assault on the eyes. The walls seem to be made of LED-screen paneling which cycles through content simultaneously. Class information, a school map and exhibitions of student work are replaced every twenty seconds or so with more lime-green. Repeated dozens of times down the hallway in electric blue text is: JUICED- THAT X-TREME TASTE!Though Five has never been in an elementary school (or any school) before, the impression he’d formed through popular culture didn’t quite match up with this. Can a soda company brand a school? This seems too…corporatocratic to be compatible with an educational establishment.

Every so often, the screens give way to vending machines in which JUICED seems to be the only drink available. Fully stocked lime green cans stand stacked behind the perspex in militant uniformity of lines. There are water fountains, Five notes, but they’re the only feature of the gleaming school that looks shabby. As he’s borne along by the people heading for the auditorium, he takes glimpses through windowed doors into classrooms leading off from the hall. He catches glimpses of plush furniture and high-tech solutions: 3D printers, VR headsets and yet more screens. Each student desk has an idling touchscreen integral to the table top; the JUICED logo drifts, slowly ricocheting off the edges of each screen. The auditorium itself is in the same style and, to Five’s mind at least, far too ambitious a space for an inner-city elementary school. It feels more like a conference center. Dozens of hexagonal acoustic panels in JUICED green and blue are placed at regular intervals along the walls. They form pillar-like arrangements with strip-lighting connecting them together. He takes an aisle seat on lecture-hall style seating. The head of the room is walled with more screens like those of the hallways. He can tell their nominal purpose is to aid the presentation of whoever’s speaking, yet their real function is clearly to advertise JUICED at every unoccupied moment. The principal steps up to the microphone’s lectern. “Thank you all for coming to this meeting. I know it was called at very short notice. I’m sorry to have not given you more of a lead up, but this is a very urgent matter." She clears her throat. "As I’m sure you’re aware, we have a second-grade student, Alyssa Johnson, who has been diagnosed with brain cancer. Last week, I’m very sorry to tell you that three more second graders started exhibiting symptoms: Cole Bennet, Joe Fredericks and Robert Smith.”

The hall breaks out into rippling mutters. Five leans forward in his seat.“Over the weekend,” she continues, “their parents informed the school that they have also been diagnosed with glioblastoma. The boys have been identified quickly which means their treatment is able to start early, but-”

Five stands. This can’t go unchallenged.

“You’re saying four second graders have glioblastoma?”

“Sir, could you please reserve your quest-”

He speaks over her.

“Four? In one school? Shit, in one grade? You realize the odds on this?”

He tilts his head, maintaining eye contact with the principal. When she stutters, he raises his hands and points a finger at her.

“How many kids get brain tumors on average? About five thousand a year? And how many of those are glioblastoma? It’s gotta be under fiver percent. Are you telling me that four of those two hundred-fifty kids go to this school? That's one hell of a coincidence.”

The principal seemingly decides that it’s useless to try to suppress this.

“Yes, we are aware that this is a strange cluster, but I can assure you that the possibility of a link is being investigated.

“Investigated how?”

She draws herself up, going into public relations mode.

“Well, I’m happy to say that JUICED co. has affirmed their commitment to Holbrook Elementary in our time of need. They’re taking all the burden of investigation upon themselves and have generously set up a fund to ensure that our sick children get the very best medical-”

Five shakes his head vehemently and steps out into the aisle, the better to pace, hands in his pockets.

“Are you this dumb?”

“Shut your mouth, asshole!” calls a leather-lung from somewhere in the seats. Five ignores him.

“What am I seeing here? JUICED plows money into this school, right? And for what? Advertising? Exclusivity? Just plain old ‘corporate responsibility’?”

He claps a hand to his head and then throws the arm wide.

“You think that’s it? And now, when four kids get cancer they start investigating and paying their medical bills? You think that investigation is going to be transparent?”

The principal sputters, a bit spooked.

“Does this not sound just a tiny bit like ass-covering to you?”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

Masterpost Alternatively, join me on AO3. Here is a link to the whole series

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l3m0ncyan · 2 years ago

Text

New to Life | Chapter 12

MoonKnight System x Hispanic! Teen! Reader

Warning: kind graphic (?) not really but its quick

Masterlist

Next Chapter

-------------------------

It's been four months since Y/N saw the dark figure that one night. She hasn't seen it in months, and she hopes the person doesn't cause her any problems. She was finally gaining control of her life and didn't want to deal with any new issues.

She continued to attend her college classes and became accustomed to college life. Y/N was familiar with the various paths on campus and knew her way around.

Although she hasn't been late to work in a while, when she is, Mania is there to assist the two in getting to the museum. She sometimes uses this power simply to be early. Aside from moving around, she had her first (lonely) study session and finals. She hasn't made any friends even though she believes shes an interesting person.

She and Mania have grown accustomed to each other over the last few months. Mania kept its promise to let Y/N live her normal life, and Y/N promised to keep it fed. By fed, it meant only chocolate items and maybe one or two people per month.

This did kinda anger Mania but it just accepted.

She was surprised that Steven and Marc had not discovered her secret while dealing with Mania. There were times when she and Mania argued, and it could be heard from outside the apartment. Typically, these arguments would revolve around Mania nearly getting them arrested on campus or wanting to kill more people than promised.

Like once, when Y/N handed in her assignment to her professor, he gave her a disgusted look after reading a portion of her work. Y/N wanted to grab him by the collar and slam him against his desk. She didn't, for obvious reasons, and began to walk away.

Mania, on the other hand, did not hesitate and began approaching the professor from Y/N's shoulder. She looked back, feeling a tingly sensation, and saw Mania making its way over. She would immediately grab Mania's neck and pull it back. Mania would return to the body after struggling with the minor battle.

Thankfully the professor was too busy reading Y/N’s research essay that he only gave her a weird look for her burst of energy.

"I don't like him either, but we don't kill people just because we don't like them!" Y/N grumbled outside the classroom, where no one else was.

“We should add that to the list of people”

Reasons like these would cause the two to argue loudly in their flat, causing Marc or Steven to come and check on Y/N. She'd justify it as an angry phone call with her family or her frustration with her homework. They'd just nod and say to take breaks or deep breaths.

After they leave, the two would then argue about them being almost caught.

“See! If only you had kept quiet about today, they wouldn’t have come!”

“If you had controlled yourself back on campus, maybe we wouldn’t be arguing right now!”

In December, Y/N decided to celebrate Hanukkah with the boys. It was difficult because Marc didn't seem to like the idea at first, but after she surprised them with the blue and white apartment, he changed his mind.

Y/N's family FaceTimed her on Christmas to wish her a Merry Christmas. Her siblings planned it because her parents refused to speak to her still, even though it has been months since she was filmed.

Speaking of which, that video was soon forgotten.

She got to talk about what she's been up to in London on FaceTime, not to mentioning the whole Egypt trip and battle with the gods.

During the call, she was thankful that none of her siblings tried to bring up her powers since she still wasn’t ready to talk about it. Plus they'd only get worried and probably want to visit her.

Yes, she may have fantasized about being a superhero with superpowers. She'd imagined herself sitting above the family, and they all looked up in awe. But how could she be proud of something so monstrous? She was growing fond of Mania, but not of its tendencies to kill every living thing.

Her parents said a quick "Feliz Navidad, cuidate" before hanging up. It hurt her a lot because they usually spoke to her more softly, but this was harsher than usual.

It was understandable though, who wouldn't be angry at their kid for going off to some random country and then hiding a superpower. Personally, she wouldn't, she would first want to know if her child was safe and sound. Still, with parents like hers, they parented differently

Still, walking back into Marc and Steven's house relieved the pain and thoughts of her family back home.

Speaking about the boys, she has gotten closer to them.

It became second nature to talk to them about any problem she encountered. Whether it was about college or relationships, one of the two was always willing to share sound advice.

Like now.

Steven was sitting on the couch, a book about hieroglyphics in hand. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as he focused his gaze on the pages below him.

Today was his day off from the gift shop, and with the weather being chilly, a good book and a cup of tea sounded like the perfect way to spend the day.

A knock came on his front door as he flipped a page, and he knew who it was.

He smiled to himself and set his book and glasses on the coffee table. Making his way from the center of his flat to the front, he opened the door to reveal his friend.

Y/N was dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. He could see beneath her eyes that she had spent the entire previous week studying and stressing over her final exams.

“Yo, can I come in?” She gestured to the inside of his apartment.

He nodded and moved to the side to allow her to enter. She started ranting as she was making her way to the couch.

“I got a fucking low score on a test dude” she plopped down on the couch.

Steven made his way to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea for Y/N, knowing she would need it.

"Well, that's unfortunate; was the text difficult?" He drained the contents of his tea kettle into a white ceramic mug.

"It was, but only because the professor didn't even teach us what was going to be on it."

Steven walked over to Y/N, handing her cup before sitting next to her.

“Hmm, does this mean you failed the course?”

"I mean, no, but I still got a low score," she shook her head. "Others got higher scores"

"As long as you passed the course, that's what matters," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "besides this is your first quarter, don't stress too much on it. I'm sure you'll ace the next one!"

Y/N scoffed, “Maybe, what if I don’t though…”

“But you will, don’t lower your expectations. I believe in you, now drink your tea before it get cold"

Steven took a sip from his cup, and Y/N followed suit. She felt the warmth spread from her chest to her stomach, removing the chill from the outside world.

"You know, I never believed in tea and its effects, but yours is different," she shrugged, taking another sip.

“That’s because you haven’t tried a British one”

The conversation continues, the stress of earlier leaving Y/N's body and being replaced by comfort. It was a benefit of Steven and Marc's apartment.

The phone then buzzed in Y/N's sweater pocket. When she took it out, she saw that Layla had sent her a photo. When she opened the message, she saw a selfie of Layla with some buildings in the background, most likely somewhere in the Middle East.

“Oh look at her, she hasn’t changed since we last saw her” she smiles.

“She texts you?” Marc who just switched in asks.

“Yeah, she doesn’t?”

Marc hesitates and shakes his head.

“Dang…that’s crazy” she says almost sarcastically.

Marc returns his gaze to the coffee table, "Makes sense, I've hurt her too much, so why would she try talking to me?"

Y/N stares at him with worry and sighs, “Have you ever tried talking to her?”

“…no”

"There you have it, that's why. If you haven't tried to find her, she may believe it's because you don't want to. You've got to break that loop, dude," she says to Marc.

He breathes in, “How would I do that?”

“Text her once in a while. It can be a ‘How are you?’ Or ‘How’s the Middle East?’”

Marc gives a hum in response, nodding his head.

"God, when did I get advice from a kid" He groans.

"When you asked me to go to Cairo with you"

"You whined that you wanted to go"

Marc thanks her after a brief moment of silence. Y/N smiles and enjoys their time together.

“Also, I might be intruding but when me and Steven first met her, what were those papers for?”

“…the divorce papers I sent her”

"Oh, did you guys ever finalize them?" she asks, surprised.

He shakes his head.

“Figures. Y’all didn’t want to huh?”

Marc raises his brows, puzzled, and asks, "What do you mean?"

"First and foremost, none of you signed the documents. Then there's the question of why. You two are still in love." She grins wide.

“You think Layla still likes me?” Marc said quite hopeful.

"Duh, the way she looked at you in Egypt, plus if I were her, I would have tried to kill you or wouldn't even want to work with you. Also said a lot back on the boat to Mogart's. You almost had a romantic kiss." Y/N leans back and crosses her arms.

Marc can almost feel his face heating up but clears his throat, “Maybe you were seeing things wrong”

"Nah, I see what I see," she smirks, "but for real, you two should fix whatever you've got going on."

Marc nods, and the two depart from the subject. He brings up the case on Harrow, still trying to figure it out. They then discuss possible suspects in the death of Harrow. The majority of these are thought to be Ennead gods.

But for Y/N, she recalls the figure from the previous night. Perhaps it was one of the gods, but which one? She can't even tell Marc and Steven because they'll ask what she's up to late at night. That, or they'd be more on guard, refusing to let her take Mania out for late-night snacks.

Speaking of late night, there have been more and more deaths popping up. Usually at night, which freaks Y/N out more. She doesn’t know which one is better; a serial killer or a villain. A serial killer you can find and just lock up, but a villain usually can’t be stopped.

Calling it a night, Y/N said farewell and walked out of the boys apartment.

Her apartment had changed a lot. She was able to buy more decorations for her home with the extra money she earned from her job. Like a bed frame.

It was one of her greatest purchases yet.

Setting it up, on the other hand, was time-consuming, prompting a call to Marc and Steven for extra help. The two sat on the floor of her living room, trying to figure out if the pieces they had put together were correct. It took them about 3 hours to complete the task, but they succeeded.

She removed her shoes and placed them on a small shoe rack near the door, as well as her bag on a hanger. She let out a relieved sigh as her feet could finally stretch.

“Finally! I am hungry!”

"My bad; I didn't think we'd be over there for that long," Walking to the kitchen, she opens the fridge to find a slice of chocolate cake from the museum's New Year's Eve party. "Cake or candy?" she asks, looking over her shoulder at a pile of chocolate bars on the counter.

“I thought chocolate would be our last choice if there was no bad guys. But there are many on the news!”

“…So cake or candy?”

Mania grumbles, “You are not listening to me, I want to be free!….cake”

Y/N hums and removes the plate with the piece of cake on top. She places it on the table and takes a seat. Mania soon surrounds her and grabs the cake with its bare hands. It eats the large piece in one bite and licks its teeth.

“We should go out tonight! Bad people always come out at night!”

“Sounds like you want to be a vigilante or something” Y/N says from inside Mania.

“What is that?”

Y/N took a second to think but nothing came into her head, "...I really don't know how to explain it"

Mania shook her head and walked over to the counter to get more chocolate. It took the entire bar in its mouth after unwrapping it and walking to the couch. Mania sat its feet on top of the coffee table that Y/N had thrifted and watched television.

A small buzz was heard on the couch and Mania looked over to Y/N's phone. With its long clawed hands, it raised the screen up to view.

On the Lock Screen, it showed an email from the professor she was berating earlier.

Good Evening Ms. L/N,

Regarding your exam from last week, I've noticed a few mistakes on my part. I sincerely apologize for this. Could you please come in today at 7 p.m. in the lecture hall to discuss the grade?

Thank you

Professor Lumbridge

Mania handed control to Y/N and returned to her body. Y/N held the phone up to her face, checking to see if she was reading it correctly. It sounded suspicious, and her intuition warned her that something was wrong.

She checked the email to see if it was an official university one, which it was.

“What do you think?” She asked Mania.

“I say we should go, you have me, so if there’s trouble I can come in”

Y/N nodded, “True, plus if it’s a bad guy, you might be able to get more food for the night”

“Yes!”

"And if it's true, my GPA will look good...yeah let's go" Y/N stood up and walked to the front of her place.

Because it is 27 degrees in London, she put on her zip-up with her jacket over it. She put on her boots, took her bag, and opened the door. When she came to the long corridor with the ugly green carpet, she turned around to make sure the door was and remained locked.

"Are you gonna tell them?"

Y/N blinked and looked over to Steven and Marc's door. Staring at the gold numbers that were on it.

She considered it but decided not to annoy them with something as simple as this; they are now normal. They have no powers. Also, if Mania was needed, she didn't want to reveal her secret so soon.

With the ding of the elevator, she walked in and soon descended to the ground floor.

The campus was dark, with only a few light posts and lit windows from buildings. Most likely a professor working late at night. The cement was wet, with a few puddles here and there caused by the rain.

The cold encircled Y/N, forcing her to hug her jacket closer to her body. Her hands were frozen, and the tip of her nose felt as if it didn't belong on her because it was so cold. She dashed to the lecture hall where her professor had instructed her to meet.

It wasn't a far walk, about five minutes from where she walked in. The building stood there with pale bricks supporting it.

Expecting the front door to be locked, she was surprised to see it swing open easily. She peeked in trying to find her professor but she was nowhere found.

"Mrs.Lumbridge?" her feet slowly walked her into the building, letting the door close behind her.

The lecture hall was big, with many rows of seats leading down to where the professor would teach and point to the whiteboard. The floors were covered in red carpet and the walls were a cream white but with it being dark inside, they seemed grey.

The only thing being illuminated was the small stage with the podium towards the front of the class.

Y/N walked further down, feeling the warm atmosphere of the room warm her back up.

"This doesn't feel right"

"Definitely, maybe we should just leave," she said as she turned around and began to walk back up until she heard multiple footsteps behind her.

The hairs behind her neck stood up, and her heart began to beat fast. She was utterly creeped out.

When she turned around, she saw a group of men standing nearby. She began to back away as she examined each one.

"Alright…well, I think I walked into the wrong class, so if you excuse me, I'm just going to head out," she said as she turned around to try to walk away as quickly as she could but was met with another man's chest.

"Can't happen, you have to come with us" one spoke up and gestured to another to grab her.

"I hate men" she muttered

The man who was called nodded and approached her, ready to grab her. However, before he could even touch her, her arm turned black and linked itself to the man's arm. It soon bent the arm backward, causing it to break.

The man let out a bloodcurdling scream and held onto his arm. All the other men tensed up and drew their guns.

"Bad guys"

"Yup and they're all yours" Mania then took over and won about a few feet in height over the other men.

"What the hell is going on?" A few of the men screamed, and gunshots rang out. Of course, Mania's skin was not penetrated, resulting in all the bullets falling to the floor.

Mania then lunged at the men, grabbing them and throwing them against the wall. Some attempted to attack from behind, but Mania would quickly bite their heads off.

Mania took them all out one by one. With the number of screams and gunshots coming, Y/N was surprised that no security arrived. Whatever the case, Mania got the job done quickly.

Many bodies surrounded it, some of which had missing limbs or heads. Y/N then returned to her normal self and looked around at the corpses. She became nauseous not only from the sight but also from the smell. Her head was filled with the odor of iron and gunpowder.

"Damn you overdid it, you couldn't have tried eating them whole or something? What if we were caught?" She covered her nose with her arm.

"But we weren't"

"Yeah, well let's get out before we are" she walked over the bodies, trying to make her way to the exit.

"You think it's late to get food at this hour?"

"I ate, so it shouldn’t”

"The one time I’m glad you did, I'll probably get those onion rings from that one place by the corner" She looked down at her shoes and noticed a bit of blood.

"Man and I thought puddles would be the ones to ruin my shoes," she frowned as she attempted to wipe the blood on the carpet.

"Behind you!"

Y/N turned around fast and saw one man still standing, running towards her with a knife.

"You bitch!" His eyes were crazed out and filled with rage.

Suddenly he grunted and fell back before she could let Mania handle it. Y/N looked at the man's body, hoping he wouldn't get up, but he didn't.

She approached him, wondering if he'd had a heart attack or something. She noticed something glistening over his chest as she looked over his body. She leaned in closer to inspect it and noticed something stuck in it.

Her eyes widened as she took in its shape. It was a crescent dagger.

"I'll be damned"

A man's voice was heard from behind her. She spun around and saw the same glowing eyes from months ago staring back at her.

They got closer and Y/N stood in a defense position.

"I hope you're ready" she whispered to Mania.

Before Mania could get control, the light from the front of the room lit up the figure's body as it came close.

"What?” Y/N breathed out.

White armor covered the figure's chest, knees, shins, and forearm. The rest of the body was covered in black fabric. Aside from that, it wore a white long hooded cape that concealed its face, leaving only the white glowing eyes visible.

This person was the same one from Cairo, the one who beat the crap out of Harrow.

"You're ‘not’ Marc" Y/N declared

"My name is actually Jake. Jake Lockley," His suit then vanished, leaving behind the body of Marc and Steven, who had been renamed Jake. He was wearing a flat hat this time.

“And I see we have met before” he looked down at her.

He had tense body language like Marc, but he gave off a more violent vibe. Jake's eyes were nowhere near as soft as Stevens'. They had a more intense stare that almost gave Y/N goosebumps.

“Okay, Jake Lockley,” she almost mocked his name, “Why are you here? We’re you trying to kill me? Also why do you have the moon knight suit? Do Marc and Steven know about you? Who-“

He shushed her and gestured her to be quiet, “Calladita se mira bonita, mija”

He walked up to one of the corpses on the floor, past her. He knelt and examined the body to see if there was anything he could use that would help him. Since he had gloves on, he didn’t hesitate to touch the body.

Y/N blinked a few before deciding to turn to him, “Wait, you know Spanish?”

Jake ignored her and continued checking the body. Y/N huffed and walked closer to him, kneeling to his level, across from him.

“Don’t be ignoring me, I got questions”

"I got questions too, like that superpower you got, but right now my main one is who these guys were," he continued, looking inside each of the body's pockets. His Spanish accent was noticeable and almost like her fathers.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get him to talk, she decided to help. She grimaced as she realized it meant she would have to touch a dead body. Using only her pointer and thumb to move parts, she felt herself almost throw up.

Without looking up, Jake uttered “Andas amarilla, just let me do it, I don’t want you throwing up all your DNA onto a crime scene”

She ignored him and kept searching the body, going through each pocket and feeling if it may have something hidden.That was when she noticed the sleeve revealing something on the man's wrist. She rolled up his sleeve to see what he had.

Her eyes widened once again, wider if it was possible.

The man had a tattoo of the same scale she had grown to memorize months ago. “Look,” she gestured to Jake.

He took a look at it and raised a brow, “Harrow's cult”

She wasn't expecting praise, but it would have been nice. He got to his feet and wiped the blood on his jacket. He had a black jacket and a white button up underneath, so the blood was very noticeable. When Y/N looked at hers, it was clear to say she didn't have any so no wiping was needed.

“Alright let’s go” he made his way out of the lecture hall with Y/N catching up.

“It’s weird how I met you and Marc after a fight,” she commented and walked beside him, feeling the cold air once again hit her.

He stayed quiet and only stared straight ahead. He didn’t seem interested in the conversation, or her. He pulled out something from inside his jacket and Y/N thought it would some cool device he had.

Instead it was just a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and put it between his teeth as he took out his lighter. Once lit, he inhaled and let out a large cloud of smoke.

“You smoke?”

“You always curious?” He grumbled.

“Yes, now why do you think the cult is coming back?” She walked beside him.

Jake thought for a while before speaking, “Who knows, maybe they want revenge. To do that, they are probably targeting you in order to get to us”

Y/N furrowed her eyes, thinking of who was ‘us’.

"To get to me, Marc, and Steven," he sighed, sensing her confusion. "Mas para esos pendejos. Still, I thought I killed Harrow, so I'm curious who else could-"

“Wait you killed Harrow?” Y/N exclaimed.

Jake immediately hushed her, “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“I knew it, that’s why I would see them leave at night”

“You knew? And you never thought of telling me?” Y/N whispered.

“I didn’t think it would be that important”

As Y/N groaned at Mania, Jake gave her a side glance.

“How did you get that power?” He inquired.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, “You still haven’t answered my question”

“You asked about Harrow and I answered”

“My question is about you, not Harrow”

Jake rolled his eyes and gestured her with his hand to ask her question.

“Why did you have the moon knight suit on?” She looked at him.

“Khonshu cut the contract with Marc and Steven only, not me. So I still have the moon god powers” he replied quickly, “Now how did you get yours?”

“Khonshus back? Is he here right now? Does he-“

Jake cut her off and waved a finger, “Eh, eh, my turn remember”

She groaned and told him how Mania had transferred into her body after she attempted to go late-night grocery shopping. She thought it was a simple tentacle power, but it turned out to be a talking symbiote.

“Por pendeja, why did you even go late night shopping?”

“Pues como podia saber eso iba suceder?, still why do you hide from Marc and Steven?”

For some reason, talking to Jake was becoming infuriating, especially with him having more vocabulary than the other guys.

“They don’t have to know about me, I only act when they are in danger or if Khonshu needs something done when he knows Marc won’t do it”

Jake takes another inhale from his cigarette and blows out into the night air. That same cloud falls onto Y/N, which she tries swatting away.

"That's kind of sad, you never got lonely? In theory, if you've been with them since, you've never had the chance to talk with them. You never had them tag along like they do with each other"

Jake stayed quiet, not responding to the statement. It took a while before he replied how he never felt lonely, that they only held them back. That it was best he didn't interfere.

He continued to smoke until he dropped what was left of the bud on the floor and stepped on it. Y/N took a small glance at it before looking back at him.

“…Why we’re you at my school?” She finally asked.

"I followed you because I wanted to see if you were the monster that they talk about," Jake replied after a few seconds of thought. "Also, I had a feeling you'd get into trouble, so I guess I was right on both counts."

“So you were there mostly to protect me...?” she tried piecing it together.

Jake didn't care whose turn it was to question the other person at this point and decided to just answer her questions. Particularly since she had more than he did.

"I only protected you because I knew Marc and Steven would be destroyed if something happened to you. That would interrupt my routine and help stop me from going to work."

It made sense to Y/N because this man was only just getting to know her and didn't seem to want to know her more than he did now. His only mission was to do exactly what Khonshu told him to do.

The two made their way to the street, and Y/N was trying to get to the bus stop on autopilot. When she looked behind her, she noticed Jake wasn't there. Jake whistled at her to get her attention, and she noticed he was walking away from both the bus stop and the apartment. He motioned for her to follow him.

Confused, she did as she was told, “The bus stop is that way”

“I don’t do buses” he said and continued walking along the street.

He took out keys from his pocket and pushed a button. A cab ahead was beeping and blinking its headlights in response. Jake walked over to the driver's side and opened the door.

“Come on” he gestured his head to the passenger door.

Y/N stared at the vehicle with an open mouth.

The cab was long and white. The windows were tinted black, and she noticed the license plates said 'SPKTR'. Marc's last name, Spector, was a play on letters.

She scoffed as she stepped inside the cab. The seats were red leather and extremely comfortable. The dasher was completely black. It smelled like black ice, which surprised her. Based on Jake's behavior around her, she expected it to smell awful and like cigarettes.

When Jake started the car, the radio started playing soft music. That's when he started driving back to the apartment. Y/N just stayed there staring at all the buildings that passed by. She was no longer riding next to strangers this time, and she was finally at comfort.

"Where was this when we were late for work?" she asked, looking over at Jake.

“You mean when you and Steven were running late. This is just for me” Jake replied.

Y/N huffed and turned back to the window.

Only light music was playing in the background during the car ride. She touched the window and noticed how her body heat fogged it up. She drew her hand back and continued to stare at the moving buildings.

—

The two were close to the apartment building after about fifteen minutes. Jake pulled over to the side of the road and finally said something.

“Don’t tell the other two about me”

“If I do?…” Y/N slowly turned to him.

"If you do, I'll have Khonshu curse their memory," Jake said as he gripped the steering wheel. "They won't remember you, which I know you don't want."

She was expecting a threat to her life, but not this. This threat, on the other hand, terrified her. She didn't want to live in a world where she couldn't communicate with the two. It hurt her to think of them passing by on the sidewalk like complete strangers.

“…okay”

“Good, now get back into your flat” he unlocked the door.

She stepped out of the car but paused seeing that he wasn’t coming out. She bent down to the window and looked at him.

“Aren’t you coming too?”

He shook his head, “I have things to do, remember our deal”

Y/N bit her cheek and nodded. She made her way to the front doors of the building. When she opened the door and looked over to Jake, she saw him drive away.

Frowning, she made her way up to her apartment.

"I don't like him!"

The day began with Mania ranting and declaring its hatred for Jake Lockley. This wasn't preferred for Y/N, who hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. She stayed up thinking about how she was now a part of some cult plan, and how she had to deal with a new alter who was ruder than the others.

This time, she couldn't even turn to Steven and Marc for advice because they were already worried about Harrow's killer, and their friendship was in risk.

"I know, he annoyed me too but oh well," She opened the fridge to take out a gallon of milk.

She walked over to the dining table where she had a bowl of dry cereal on top. Pouring the milk inside, she went back to put the bottle back inside the fridge.

"How dare he?! He threatened us and expects us to keep his secret?!"

"Technically he only threatened me, I don't think he grasped the fact you're uh, well have a personality," Y/N said before biting down on a spoonful of cereal.

She was still in her pajamas since it was Saturday and she thankfully had no work shift. Steven however did and was probably now having to deal with Donna alone.

"He threatened you which means he also threatened me! We come in a package!"

"Okay, okay. Well, what do you want to do about it? First, we have to worry about that cult trying to get me" She finished her bowl of cereal and went to put it in the sink.

After, she went to the couch and sat down. She took the remote control into her hand and started to flip through different channels. Mania then appeared out of her shoulder and looked at her.

"Then let us go investigate!"

"I'm studying nursing, not forensics, so I don't know as much about investigating as the next person." She returned her gaze to the television screen after looking at Mania.

Mania grumbled, “You know I don’t know what that means. Either way, you’re just sitting here like a potato while we could be saving the world”

"Okay, then tell me what we'll do once we get there," Y/N said, pausing what she was watching. "Because who knows, whoever is trying to get me might be waiting over there as well."

It took Mania a second to respond. It didn't know how to investigate either; it was honestly so riled up by Jake that it needed to blow off steam somewhere.

Y/N wouldn't lie either; she was annoyed that whoever was attempting to kidnap her saw her as an objective. Still, after the performance she and Mania put on last night, the next group may be stronger and better prepared.

A heavy knock from the door cut the two’s conversation. They both looked over and were slightly confused. Y/N pulled out her phone to check the time.

1:49 pm

Steven didn't come out of his shift for another couple of hours.

Y/N stood up and approached the door with caution. Mania had already returned to the body, but it was keeping a close eye on things. She saw a man and two officers behind him through the peephole. The man had dark skin, a khaki overcoat, and his hair was buzzed except for the top. He continued knocking with a hand inside his pocket, then looked up at the peephole.

Y/N immediately backed away, feeling anxious. She recalls the last time she and Steven had to deal with cops. They weren't even the men in blue; they were just people who pretended to be while they were in a cult.

“Y/N L/N?” The man loudly said, “Are you home? I have a few questions only”

Y/N was already on the verge of panic, due mainly to her excessive overthinking. What if they were the cult and they were out to get her? She could just have Mania deal with them. But what if they were actual police officers? She couldn't just murder people who were simply doing their jobs.

“L/N, are you there?”

The knocking became more persistent and Y/N was still frozen in her own confusion.

“They're not the cult”

“How do you know?” She spoke in a whisper, feeling as if the man outside could hear.

“They aren't being defensive”

A new voice popped from behind the door, most likely one of the officers, “Open up!”

Her earlier anxiety had been replaced by a sense of embarrassment. The neighbors were probably looking out their door to see what the yelling was. Maybe they were now spreading rumors about her, as well as about Steven.

Hesitating, she went to open the door.

The man in the coat was taken aback when she opened the door and revealed herself. After a brief awkward silence, he returned to his serious demeanor and cleared his throat.

"You must be Y/N, I'm Detective Chantel, may we come in?" He brought his badge out and showed it to her.

She glossed over it and remained silent. The three piled in, gesturing for them to come inside. The officers searched the apartment while the detective remained behind to speak with Y/N.

"Who were you talking to earlier?"

Y/N quickly looked back at him after staring at the officers walking through her place, "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I heard you whispering when I was trying to have you open the door for us" He crossed his arms and stood high.

"Oh, well I was talking to myself"

"Oh? About what?"

"I mean as you can see I live alone," She quickly waved her hand to the whole of the apartment, "and I'm a young woman in this weird world, so I simply thought you might have been an intruder"

The detective lets out a quick 'hmm' before continuing, "You don't get many visitors?"

"Is that why you're here?"

He shook his head, "No, I am actually here to talk about an incident from your university"

"How did they find us?!"

Y/N continued to act, "Really? Did someone try mugging someone again? I swear London has been coming up with more crime-"

"A group of men was slaughtered in a lecture hall, one that seemed to be a place where you were supposed to meet with your professor through email. One that was sent around 5:45 last evening?"

Y/N gulped, "What the hell? I mean yeah I got that email but I didn't go because it felt sketchy"

"I see, where were you last night?" The way he said it was much more serious

"I was studying the syllabuses for my classes"

He quickly jots down the information on his notepad and continues, "Do you live alone?"

"I just told you I do"

"That email, it wasn't sent by your professor, we checked. Do you know anyone who might have wanted to get you back? Maybe you made someone angry?"

"I haven't interacted with anyone from school so I am pretty sure no one is after me" Y/N crossed her arms

Except for that fucking cult she thought.

"One never knows"

The investigation continued and Y/N was becoming irritated. Many of the questions were already answered before or were weirdly worded. Plus she was still in her pajamas, so it was sort of humiliating.

It lasted for about thirty minutes until she finally said enough.

"Okay, well this is great and I appreciate your effort to stop the murderer but I am tired and just want to go back to watching tv yeah?" Y/N finally stood up from the couch where their talk was moved to.

The detective stood up as well and looked down at Y/N, "Why the rush?"

"Why are you making me out to be the big murderer? I can't even run a lap without gasping my ass off, so what makes you think I could take down a group of men?"

"You college kids get new drugs each month, maybe one gave you an enhancer"

Y/N scoffs and shakes her head, "Yeah right"

Detective Chantel looks at her and sighs, putting his notepad away, "Look, I'm not here to freak you out but whoever sent that email to you was targeting you for who knows what, but its bad"

Y/N didn't say anything but stared at him.

"Don't go out late at night and lock your doors. I have a daughter your age, and I can't imagine her being in a situation like this"

Y/N nods, "Right, well don't worry about me, no offense to your daughter, but I know how to use pepper spray"

She said it with humor to try to lighten the mood but the detective didn't seem to be liking it.

Y/N guided their way out, with the detective handing her his card in case anything suspicious popped up. She nodded and closed the door after.

Sitting at the couch, she stared at the white piece of paper with the black ink words written on it.

"Are you gonna ask that guy for help?"

Y/N paused for a moment before tossing the card onto the coffee table. "Definitely not, he thinks it's just some ordinary guy, but I'm sure it's not."

Four o'clock came and went, and Y/N was cooking dinner when the doorbell rang once more. She sighed and set down a wooden spoon she was using to stir the soup in a pot.

She eyed the peephole, wondering if it was the detective or if the cult was finally here for her doom. Fortunately enough, it was Steven who probably just got off of work.

Steven marched inside once she opened the door, not saying a word and heading straight to her tv.

"Hello to you too" She trailed and closed the door.

Walking to where Steven was, she eyed how he switched through the many channels on the television. He finally got to the one he was looking for and began pointing at it.

Y/N looked at the screen displaying a news outlet. A woman held a mic close to her chest as she spoke to the camera. Behind her was a scene that seemed familiar to Y/N.

"Last night, ten men were brutally murdered inside one of King's College's classrooms. According to reports, several of the bodies are missing limbs or have been decapitated. A custodian discovered this horrifying scene in the early hours of the morning. The investigation is still ongoing, and we will keep you updated."

The screen then displayed many of the said bodies covered with white tarps.

"The way those men died, was the same way the men from the store died" Steven was unsettled by the news with the way he couldn't even blink as he stared at the television.

She didn't say anything and only listened to him.

"The thing we saw at the store is starting to wreak havoc and is attacking random places now I don't know where it could hit next but I don't want it to be somewhere where either of us is" He tried to say everything at once as his worry consumed him.

He kept rambling and fumbled with his hands as a way to cope with the stress.

Y/N finally spoke up, "Steven, we'll be fine okay? And I'm sure if we ever cross paths with it, I can defend us"

Steven's body tensed up and Marc switched with him, probably due to his stress.

"What if you can't? What if it comes and attacks you when we're not there?" Marc drew his arms across his chest, "We fought together and we had each other's backs. You've never fought on your own before so what makes you think this time will be different. This monster is completely different from a jackal"

"I can defend myself, so don't worry about it. Plus I have been practicing-"

"It doesn't matter if you've been practicing," he slightly raised his voice, "Promise me that if it comes your way that you call me and Steven"

Y/N was taken aback by how serious not only did Marc sound but how Steven reacted to the news. Marc stared at her, trying to see if her next answer will come out as a lie or the truth.

"... I'll call you guys if I'm in trouble, I promise" She breathed out.

Marc's shoulders seemed to relax slightly and he sighed, "Good,"

It was silent which made things awkward. Their argument seemed to have shifted something in the atmosphere with the way they just stood straight. Would she even call this an argument? It ended rather well instead of someone storming off.

"Well," Marc broke the silent stage, "You said you were practicing, show me what you got"

"Huh?"

Marc was waiting for Y/N when her mind went blank. It had been a long time since she had done those extra moves to get her powers moving, but now it was just a question for Mania. It was awkward trying to get a tentacle to come out, but if it worked back then, it can still work now.

Y/N stood tall and breathed in.

"Ok, I am going to stretch out a limb and pick up the couch" She made sure Mania understood her.

"We share the same mind, you do not have to talk like that"

Mania followed the instructions and stretched out a limb over the couch after stretching her arm out. It formed a claw on it and effortlessly picked it up. Y/N would rotate her hand to indicate the rotation of the couch.

Marc stared at her as she placed the couch back down in its respective place. The two stayed quiet for a second.

"See, I still have control" She crossed her arms triumphantly.

"...You looked constipated when you were doing it" The corners of Marc's mouth quirked up.

She glared at him, "Fuck you, but I was able to do it so hah!"

Marc stood quiet and gave a simple nod before Steven took the body back, "Still, promise us you will be careful"

Y/N gently smiled and held a hand up, "I swear I will be careful"

He returned the smile and seemed more relaxed than he was earlier.

"Hey so I made dinner, soup to be specific, want to try it?" She flicked her head towards the stove.

Steven smiled, "That would be lovely"

Y/N served Steven and herself a bowl, placing them on the table. They sat across from each other, taking in the dish's warm flavors. Steven complimented Y/N, saying it was exactly what he needed after a long day.

"Speaking of which, what have you been up to?" He looked up from his bowl.

Police officers and a detective came by because of what I and Mania did last night

"It was for good reasons"

"Uh, you know I never really ask about you, how was yours?" She took in a spoon of soup.

"Oh, well that's different...I guess it was rather boring, the customers being difficult and Donna being even more. Thankfully, Marc helped somewhat"

"Marc was ringing customers in?" Y/N said rather amused.

Steven nodded, "And he was setting up the displays, not eye-catching, but he got the job done"

"Does it matter? People are still going to mess it up"

"Yes, it does matter, not only because it looks nice but if it doesn't Donna would talk my ear off" Steven rubs his ear as he thinks of his manager yelling at him.

"Can't blame him, it is his first-day working" Y/N shrugged.

Feeling offended, Marc came through, "Hey, who said it was my first time working?"

He took the spoon from the bowl and tasted the broth, "Pretty good"

"Oh, so you worked in retail in your young days huh" She teased and plopped her elbows on the table.

His forehead wrinkled with the comment, "Funny, no I went to the military around your age" he waved the spoon at her.

"Once we came to London, I had to do side missions for Khonshu but with Steven still not knowing about me and not wanting to get him fired, I had to do some of his shifts," he continued as he ate from the bowl.

Y/N listened closely, "So you have been doing it for a while...and that means when you did that, Steven was blacked out"

Marc nodded and continued eating.

"...By any chance was one of these shifts when I may have been in the picture. To be specific, I might have called in sick?"

Marc paused and looked up, "That's very specific but I remember taking that chance to search the museum without you clinging on"

Steven who was on the reflection of the spoon stared at Marc, "Was it when I slept through my alarm? I swore I put it too and I freaked out about being fired"

"Yeah, I just took control before your alarm went off, like I said, found my chance to explore"

"Yo! Were you the one who asked that tour guide out on a date? The one that Steven didn't even know when they planned it?" Y/N exclaimed, "Because that was in the same week Steven went missing"

Marc slightly jumped at the burst of energy and thought, slowly his eyes widened. Taking it as a yes, Y/N's mouth dropped slightly.

"It was you! You really are into curly heads" She marveled.

Marc turned red, "What? No! She asked me--Steven out!"

"It was you?!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, okay what happened was that she was trying to carry this box and I went to help her, and things led to the other..." Marc tightened his lips.

Y/N raised a brow, "You fucked her?!"

"No! No! God no, we uh...made out...in a closet and that's when she asked for a proper date" he leaned onto the chair

Y/N was still in shock and gawked at him, "So you said yes and still missed it?"

"I thought it was a good way for Steven to get a girl, I just didn't know I would be busy that day" Marc ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh god, I seem like a total douchebag. No wonder she almost cussed me out when she saw me again at the gift shop"

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand dramatically, "...What would Layla think of this?"

Marc's head shot back up at her and his pupils dilated, "Don't"

She held his eye contact before reaching down for her phone, trying to get her contact before anything. Marc practically leaped out of his chair and stretched to get her phone but she moved it away.

Grinning she held her arm away from him while still sitting on the chair. Noticing him getting up, she stood up as well. Thats where the chase began.

She booked it and stood a good distance away from him. He raised his eyebrow at her, checking if she really wanted to be stubborn. Her smile gave him a go and he started chasing her around the flat.

With Mania's help, she was able to jump over the couch, and table, and even hang onto the ceiling. When she did, she would show her and Layla's messages with the keyboard out, ready to type the message.

This would pump Marc up and use all his ex-marine skills to chase her down.

After a while, she doesn't know how but he was able to grab her and pin her down with her arm on her back. Her face was squished on the wood floor while his body weight kept her down. It was like one of those wrestling moves she had seen many times.

"This is embarrassing"

"Surrender?" he asked

"Too late" A message being sent was heard and Marc saw her lift the phone up.

He grabbed it and let go of Y/N to check the message, hoping he could delete it before Layla. As he read it, he went to sit on the couch.

"Not funny" he placed the phone on the seat.

The message Y/N was just an iMessage game request for Layla.

Y/N let out breathy laughs as she got up and sat next to Marc. She checked the message and saw that Layla accepted it. Marc was regaining his breath when the bright screen came to view.

He glanced at Y/N who gestured her head to the phone, "Play a round of 8 ball with her. I told her I was teaching you how to play and that she would be a good opponent"

Marc didn't say anything and stared at Layla's contact picture. It was one where the top of Y/N's head was popping up trying to take a picture with her. In the background, Marc was trying to walk away from them.

Although he was the first to bring up the divorce papers, he was the last to want to lose her.

"This is the best place to start in trying to fix both of your guys' relationships. Even if you're not going to talk, playing a round or two might bring you two closer together." She kept holding the phone up to him.

Hesitating, he took it and analyzed the screen. Y/N got close and pointed out how to aim and hit the main ball. Explained why putting the main ball in a hole was bad and gave him tips.

For the first two turns, he was terrible but Y/N wouldn't say it out loud. For the purpose of his ego and feelings.

Afterward, Marc was focused on trying to win, that's what Y/N thought. Really he was trying to impress Layla.

Meanwhile, Y/N just put on a movie while he waited for Marc to finish his round. Which turned out to be 4 in total. It was a tie from the total wins and Marc decided to call it a night.

Marc stopped at the door and turned to Y/N, "Hey, thanks for you know,"

She smiled and nodded before he walked out. She shut the door, leaving her and Mania alone again in the apartment.

---

It was as if knocking became a part of her life. It was the middle of the night when she heard the pounding on the door. Peeling her eyes open from her slumber, she groaned as the knocking continued.

Covering her ears with pillows didn't seem to work, so she was forced to get up from the comfort of her bed. The cold night air began to infiltrate and she grabbed her sweater that hung off the bed frame.

Sliding into her sandals, she slowly made her way to the door. She peeked at the peephole and saw it was Steven waiting for it to open. He was standing rather timidly and she felt like something was wrong.

All her sleep went away and she immediately opened the door.

"That's not him"

Before she took in what Mania said, she looked at Steven but his body language soon changed. It wasn't like he switched with Marc, it was more like he was acting to be scared.

He as in Jake.

He put on his flat hat once she opened the door and looked at her with a grin.

Seeing his features closer now, she saw how his eyes had a violent look. Scratch that, there was something physically different.

His left eye wasn't that dark brown color that she came to know, it was red.

Noting that she was astonished was a bit humorous to him, "Happy to see me?"

"What do you want? I didn't tell them about you" she sneered

"You angry because I threatened you?" He pouted, mockingly. "Anyways, I'm not here for that. I actually need your help with something. I'll even pay you"

"...Help you with what?" Y/N muttered

---------

Fuck college fr, stressing my ass off lmao

Sorry if I made them sound OOC

Btw if you want to be part of the tag list just let me know :)

Taglist: @itsjusspele @dustyinkpages @scoliobean @moonywritings

#marc spector x teen!reader #steven grant x teen!reader #marc spector #moon knight #hispanic reader #platonic #steven grant #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #layla x teen!reader #x reader #jake lockley

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muzzlemouths · 2 years ago

Text

@doofnoof STORYTIME

SO! My mom and I have moved around a lot for many (mostly depressing) reasons and could hardly find so much as a one bedroom apartment to share most years, so when we were offered a four bedroom, two bathroom, ENORMOUS backyard full house for a measly amount of rent, we jumped at the chance without really wasting time to question it. The house had a weird feeling from the start but we chalked that up to "just moved" anxiety and shrugged it off.

I don't want to call this a "warning sign", but a weird occurrence I noticed upon moving in was the distinct lack of animals. This was way out in the country, so there were animals galore all around, but none of them — not even birds — would come within a few yards of the house. (cw for animal death) I even adopted a little chick to raise out there, but it did in fact pass away within hours of being inside.

There was a master bedroom with three smaller bedrooms. The master bedroom had a Bad Vibe to it which sounds silly when I say it out loud, but I cannot express just how much being in this room sucked. You'd always feel a little uncomfortable in the house as a whole, but the second you walked into this one room it felt like the entire earth's weight was on your chest. It felt like someone was standing directly behind you at all times. It felt like you smoked three packs of cigarettes and then did jumping jacks. On multiple occasions I became physically sick after being in it for too long.

The room smelled HEAVILY of smoke. Despite there not being any visible fire damage, it always had a scent like there was something burning. We had the wiring checked, the vents checked, the outlets checked, everything. Anybody who came over could smell it but no one knew where it was coming from, because if you got up to the walls and carpets the smell didn't increase any, it was just always there.

My mother chose to sleep in this room because it was the biggest. Now, I want to emphasize here that my mother is in no way superstitious, and she waved off any and all of my anxieties concerning this house/that room in particular, but even she only lasted about a month in that room before she moved into a smaller room. She would have nightmares every. single. night, and that's if she could fall asleep at all. She would wake up feeling sick, rush to the bathroom to throw up, but then suddenly feel fine before she even got there once she was past the doorway. I remember her telling me that what finally did it was trying to leave the room one day and the door not opening. It didn't have a lock on it. She finally got it "unstuck" after a while of struggling, but the situation frustrated her so much — along with the smell — that she decided it best to move next to my room instead (to my unending relief).

Everything was normal after that, aside from the weird tension the house always had and the cold issue we could never figure out (wherein the house was always FREEZING, no matter how high we had the heat. We bundled up in sweaters and blankets during the day to stay warm. Again, we had the wiring checked, the heater, everything. There was no logical explanation for this one.)

That normalcy remained for about a week. After that, stuff started to get weirder. The tension and "pressure" when inside the house was so crushing that we would spend a lot of the time outside if we could just to get away from it. Doors began to swing on their own without a draft, and we did have one (1) instance of the classic Door Slams Shut. Sometimes the doors would be "locked" (again, no locks) and we would just have to leave the room alone for a while and come back to it later. My dog hated being inside and more than once I had to physically pick him up and carry him in because he refused to go. I would constantly feel like someone was walking behind me or running after me even if I was just walking around in broad daylight.

At one point, the door issue got so intense that I moved my mattress into the living-room and slept out there. It was a big open space (which didn't exactly make me any more comfortable) with the master bedroom to the left and the kitchen to the right, and in the direction of where my feet would be was the house's looooong hallway, where all three remaining rooms were located.

I slept like this for a few days longer before just not being able to sleep at all because I would feel like I was in fight or flight mode 24/7. I eventually called my partner and asked them to come stay with me for a few days, just so I could get some sleep. My partner came over and set up a spot next to mine and I conked out almost instantly.

The first night was fine. I had a nightmare, my partner witnessed one of the doorknobs shaking, and that was the end of it. The second night, they woke me up at 3:01am on the dot (I remember because we had a clock on the wall and I was wondering what they wanted so late at night) and I remember feeling this AWFUL feeling, just the worst, most sickening, bone chilling feeling I've ever experienced in my life, and I was going to get up and puke, but before I could my partner shook me again and pointed down the dark hallway and said "Look, look!" and I kid you fucking not, there was a man coming down that hallway. Real tall, big hat, no clear expression on his face but the kind of look that makes your stomach clench and tear itself apart.

He stopped at the end of the hallway right where it would have lead to the livingroom. I couldn't get myself to scream or say anything and neither could my partner, we both just huddled together and watched as the thing stood there for literal hours. At one point we must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember is waking up closer to 6am with my mom getting ready for work.

I woke my partner up to double check that I hadn't just dreamed it, and after getting confirmation I just...broke down. Went to my mother as a grown adult just a sobbing wreck, begging her to leave because I couldn't take it anymore.

She knew we couldn't because if we left before a certain date we'd have to pay the deposit, and that was a lot of money when your options were this and being homeless. But I couldn't stay in that house for any longer. I just couldn't. As much as it pained (and worried) me, I left my mom alone in that house to live with my partner and their family instead. I just wasn't strong enough to last even one more night there.

A little under two weeks later, my mom tells me she paid the deposit and will live in her car until we can find another place to go. I'm not sure what changed her mind, and to this day she refuses to tell me what happened in that house after I left, but I can only imagine it was nothing fucking good.

We found out later that the house had many, many deaths inside its walls, and the last tenant before us was a drug house gone wrong where every person involved was killed, multiple of them in traumatic ways. I don't know if that influenced the house or was a result of it, but either way, it's not the prettiest of histories.

The house's owner couldn't find anyone to rent it to after us, and my mom stopped asking after about a year, so I have no idea if it still lies dormant now, but I can tell you I am never going back.

I've never told anyone but a couple friends about this because all of it sounds laughable if you didn't experience it yourself, but I promise you, every word of it is true and still freaks me out to this day.

#man FUCK that house #I wanted to burn it to the ground #hat man. let's not meet #(again)

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glisten-inthedark · 8 days ago

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I started the show back when only season one was out so we didn’t have a lot of Byler content. I think back then it was easy (for me at least) to view any instance of Mike’s relationship with Will being different to his relationship with the other boys as Mike being more of the main character than Dustin or Lucas. We get way more M*leven scenes than Byler scenes in season one so it was easy to get attached to and endeared by what I at the time interpreted as an innocent first crush.

Then in season two, it was once again easy to get distracted by the anticipation of a M*leven reunion and also to focus more on Will than on Will and Mike, and also on learning about Max and Billy. We hadn’t really had a comparison of what Mike and Will’s friendship looked like before season two so rather than view it as different than the others’ I was just relieved that one of the boys was looking out for Will and since like everyone’s been mentioning, Mike is such a “caretaker” it made sense that it was Mike. Mike has the track record of being the one to care in this way so I didn’t really think anything of it. Then the M*leven reunion was so good (and still is even though I’m a Byler shipper now, the acting and the music is so good) and it was easy to forget about all the Byler that had happened before it.

Then season three is when we actually see M*leven as a couple and it was……disappointing. It was way more fun to watch Eleven and Max spend time together and it was so clear that Max was just healthier for Eleven to spend more of her time with than Mike, even if Max gave some bad advice at times, she had no interest in sheltering Eleven and she helped Eleven explore more “girl” interests and fashion and broadened her world. And Mike became so frustrating. Then, that scene with Mike and Will in the rain happens and it’s like……oh. Oh damn. I see.

I still didn’t ship Byler until after season four because I held out hope that Mike and Eleven could still have a healthy power couple relationship, but I think the confirmation of Will’s feelings for Mike as well as the parallel of Lucas’ clear love for Max and her clear reciprocation and how they didn’t need to exchange “I love you” for them and the audience to know……it just became hard to continue rooting for M*leven you know?

Then reading analysis and watching videos about Byler made me go, “Wait, I think they’ve been planning for Byler for a long time.”

I Hello there!

This is so interesting to read!

I love knowing the thought process of people who at some point shipped Mil*ven especially because I never could (not even during season 2) and understanding how and why you guys shipped it is really interesting to read because I had such a different experience from what you had.

But it's interesting that I see so many people mentioning how seasons 3 and 4 put them off from Mil*ven because of how their relationship was portrayed while I never shipped them together, season 3 was the moment I started getting suspicious they were purposefully trying to show us while Mike and El didn't work as a couple.

I totally see how the rain fight and season four could have an impact on some people because those were significant moments where you kinda see all the legwork they've been doing and it becomes hard to not see that other couples have issues but are able to work through them in a healthy manner.

Anyways, thanks so much for sharing your thoughts and you're welcome to drop by whenever you want.

#stranger things #target audience > byler

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jodilinbio · 1 month ago

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Andy and I often went to gay bars, but I didn’t care much for the people. Like in most bar scenes, many were into drugs and heavy drinking. A lot of them also felt phony and immature. The women, in particular, weren’t as feminine as I liked.

I looked my best between twenty-three and twenty-nine—thin, fit, and confident in short shorts and miniskirts. But despite my perfect makeup and long, flowing curls, gay women often ignored me, assuming I was straight. Andy tried to comfort me, saying I was too attractive and intimidated people, but I didn’t buy it. Did people want unattractive partners? I believed I was ignored because I was so feminine. Plus, I often heard that short women weren’t desirable in the gay world. Getting a man, on the other hand, would’ve been no problem if that’s what I’d wanted. All I’d have to do was snap my fingers, and they’d flock to me like pigeons after breadcrumbs.

I did have some luck in 1990. First, there was a one-night stand with a plump Puerto Rican/black girl named Diana, and later, one with a skinny white paramedic named Lisa. I didn’t plan on these being one-nighters—it just turned out that way.

I also competed in karaoke contests, singing in both English and Spanish, and won a couple of times. It came at a perfect time since I was out of both cigarettes and money, so the $125 I won at two places in one night really saved me.

One day at a Dunkin’ Donuts in a section of Springfield called the X, I struck up a conversation with two young women. When I mentioned wanting a roommate, one of them—Crystal, who was twenty-three—said she’d like to move in.

Crystal turned out to be quite troubled. She cut her wrists, was in an abusive relationship, and had lost her kids due to neglect. She said she was too broke to care for them and once nearly threw her son out of a fourth-story window in frustration.

She was also a lousy roommate—she wouldn’t do her share of the chores, and I had to hound her for her share of the rent. She spent most of her time getting fired from jobs or being kicked around by her boyfriend.

Eventually, she turned into a kleptomaniac, stealing mostly clothes. When I kicked her out a few months later, I knew she had duplicated the key, so I changed the locks. Just in time, too—a neighbor saw them trying to get in when I was out. They would’ve robbed me blind if they’d gotten in.

Then there was Mary, whom I met through Crystal. Mary was twenty-nine, lived with her twin sister and her husband, and really hoped I’d want to be with her. She wasn’t my type at all—short, plump, homely, with too-short hair—but I was too kind to tell her that. We hung out a few times, but eventually, she started canceling plans on me.

One night, annoyed with her, I prank-called her, saying nothing. She knew it was me, though. The next day, she came over to pick up a record she’d lent me and, without warning, suddenly flew into a fit of rage and toppled a piece of furniture over. We ended up fighting until she got bored and left.

I filed a police report, but nothing came of it, and I never saw her again.

Around that time, I met all sorts of people through random phone calls. One night, I called a cab company and told the dispatcher I’d heard she was gay—just to mess with her—but it turned out to be true! We chatted and later became friends. Her name was Linda, and although she was hideously ugly, we stayed friends for a while until she started hinting at wanting more than friendship.

I also randomly called a young woman named Tammy. She was barely nineteen, tall and slender with long red hair, and looked just like the singer Tiffany. The single mom was pretty but also immature, angry, and had issues with her alcoholic mother. Eventually, Tammy became unstable and unpredictable, and we stopped talking.

Al was another mistake. He was a twenty-four-year-old accountant who didn’t look a day over sixteen. He was negative, acne-riddled, and a sexual misfit with premature ejaculation. After a few months of hearing him criticize me, I ended it.

Then there was Nissa, and she hurt the most. She was a gorgeous, bisexual bus driver I met through another driver. We talked, laughed, and sang together on her bus. She even gave me money for snacks when I’d run errands for her. I thought she liked me, even though she had a girlfriend and told me so upfront. But when I wrote down hints I at least thought she dropped suggesting she may like me, she stole the notes when I ran into the store for us and was not flattered. She seemed offended actually, and I felt terrible and totally not worthy of anyone. I never saw her again after this, of course.

Towards the end of the two years I lived on Oswego Street, reality hit hard. I felt depressed. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. Money was always tight, and my asthma and allergies were a problem. At twenty-three, cigarettes had already taken a toll on my lungs.

I was lonely and believed I’d never find the kind of relationship I longed for with the type of woman I was attracted to—both inside and out. Andy would tell me the chase was better than the capture, but there wasn’t even anyone to chase. I started to wonder if I’d have had the same bad luck if I were after men.

Although my friendship with Andy had its good points, one day I had to sit down and ask myself a hard question: If I were suddenly stranded somewhere, who could I call?

The answer was no one. Absolutely no one. I realized, more clearly than ever before, that the people I considered “friends” were either too unreliable or too self-centered to be counted on in times of need. When I was depressed and needed a shoulder to cry on, I knew I couldn’t turn to Andy—he just couldn’t handle it. Fran and Nervous were the last people I would have considered reaching out to. Fran was too messed up and Nervous was obsessed with me.

For years, I blamed myself, thinking I wasn’t good enough for good, decent, honest people. Then, one day, I asked myself—why not? Why shouldn’t I be? Sure, I wasn’t perfect, but I was kind, giving, and a good listener who tried to be honest. Maybe the problem wasn’t me after all. Maybe it was just that people, in general, didn’t fit with me because I wasn’t like most of them. As I got older, I began to think differently—maybe most people just weren’t worthy of my friendship. I became more selective about who I associated with. After being burned so many times, I was afraid to trust people. I couldn’t even trust my own parents and if you can’t trust your own parents, who can you trust?

So, unlike others who usually trust someone unless given a reason not to, I was the opposite. I wouldn’t trust anyone until they earned my trust. For the most part, I was a good judge of character—perceptive and observant—so I could usually tell who was trustworthy and who wasn’t.

In short, I was broke, alone, couldn’t breathe, and had no idea what my purpose in life was. But in four years and 3,000 miles, I would begin to find out.

In early 1989, Jo told me that the Locust/Woodside building was now owned by Russell, an older man, so I decided to call him about moving back. This was just before Jo and Eddie bought a condo, where Eddie soon passed away.

I was tired of life on Oswego Street. One time, I had nearly been run over by kids fleeing from the cops in a stolen car. That was just one of many scares. When I spoke to Russ, he informed me that my old apartment was empty. My parents agreed to help by sending him about $100 a month toward the now $440 rent. Russ had a couple of maintenance men help me move, and I agreed to clean his house once a week. He and his wife, a librarian I never met, lived in a huge house just five minutes away. But I didn’t work for them long since I couldn’t stick to a schedule.

My only complaint with Russ was that the apartment was freezing in winter. Unlike at Oswego Street, tenants couldn’t control their own heat. We even ended up seeing a mediator over it. Russ wanted me to move, but I wasn’t going anywhere until I was ready, which wouldn’t be for just over two years. Meanwhile, the guy who lived below me figured out how to access the temperature control box for that side of the building—it happened to be in my apartment.

The apartment itself had a few changes done to it while I was on Oswego Street. The bathroom had been modernized, with the old footed tub and white porcelain sink replaced by a new sink with a cabinet and a large mirror. The old indoor-outdoor carpet had been swapped for linoleum.

The changes outside were more dramatic. Jo wasn’t exaggerating when she said the neighborhood had gone downhill. It was rapidly becoming like Oswego Street—where there used to be the occasional summer brawl, now the streets were filled with negative activity, day and night, year-round.

In the summer of 1989, Andy and I both took third-shift jobs as a waitress and waiter at Denny’s. It wasn’t fun, though it was not without adventure. After just two months, I quit. Waitressing wasn’t for me—I just wasn’t a people person.

Not long after leaving Denny’s, the performing arts school I attended closed after one of the owners had a stroke. Bill, who was gay and lived with his boyfriend in Northampton, needed a place to teach his Springfield students. I offered my apartment, and he used it a few times a week. In exchange, I got free voice lessons and twenty dollars a week.

This time around, I had better luck with my neighbors, though I started off on the wrong foot with one of them—until I set them straight. Actually, another neighbor ended up doing that before I could.

I had just unpacked the last of my boxes and was heading out back to take them to the dumpster when I noticed the back door open of what used to be Nancy’s studio. A guy sat at the kitchen table.

“Hi,” I said.

The guy jumped, startled.

“Sorry,” I quickly apologized.

“No, that’s okay,” he replied and introduced himself as Jai.

Jai, a 27-year-old aspiring doctor, was pretty smart, and we had a lot of conversations over the next couple of years. He moved out shortly before I did. Although he was attracted to me, we never acted on it, and his girlfriend Jenny—a sweetheart—wouldn’t have liked that anyway. Jenny used to tell Jai she was worried about me because I was “gorgeous.”

On my first evening back in the apartment, I was exhausted and ready to relax after all the unpacking and setting up. But relaxation was not in the cards.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Someone was banging in the apartment below me. For some reason, I went down and knocked on the door. Maybe I thought someone needed help. Or maybe I was just curious.

A woman answered, and I asked if everything was okay. “I don’t live here. He does,” she said.

The “he” turned out to be a blitzed 31-year-old named James. After I returned to my apartment, the banging continued for another half hour. Fed up, I called the cops. When they arrived, I stepped out into the hallway. From what I overheard, Rita—the woman who thought I was prank-calling her—wasn’t too happy with the situation either. She lived beneath Jimmy, which was the name James preferred as I’d later learn.

“I just got in,” I heard Jimmy lie to the cop. But after they left, he did quiet down.

The next day, Jai and I were heading down the back stairwell to get some groceries. Jimmy happened to be out back, looking over the balcony.

“Hey, you got a problem with me?” he asked in a confrontational tone as soon as he saw me.

I started to tell him that I certainly did if he was going to bang on his ceiling for hours at a time, but Jai intervened. I don’t remember what Jai said, but I do recall him telling Jimmy not to use the word “crazy.” I guess Jimmy had called me crazy, but I didn’t care if he thought that—as long as he stopped the ceiling thumping.

From that day forward, we got along. We even played music for each other, and sometimes I’d be the one banging. If Jimmy overslept, I’d stomp on the floor to wake him up, if I happened to be up when he was supposed to be. I could tell he was awake by the sound of running water below me. He gave me rides a couple of times and respected the fact that I wasn’t interested in men.

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headcanonsandmore · 6 months ago

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My apologies for the late reply but I have been busy most of today.

While this is partially true with the Moffat era, it's also fairly common throughout much of the modern and classic eras (albeit less so in the classic era due to the lack of a online fandom where ideas could be discussed with relative ease).

The Ninth Doctor's era was considered decent but unnessecary for new viewers to watch for a good decade. There's a reason that the "don't skip Nine" phrase became such a meme on Tumblr in the late 2010s, because so many people were recommending that new fans skip the era that fans of Nine got understandably sick of it. Like I said, a reappraisal happened as time went on. Ten is basically the only modern Doctor incarnation that this hasn't happened to nearly as much, but even Ten's era had a sizeable portion of the fanbase insisting that it was the worst era of the show ever.

In the classic era, while it was less common due to (until the advent of home video in the 1980s) a lack of re-watching of episodes, there were eras that were regarded initially as lacklustre before becoming seen as some of the best eras of the show. I'm thinking especially of the Second Doctor's era (which was considered by some fans at the time as less impressive compared to the First Doctor's era due to Two's more comedic character) and the Fourth Doctor's era (which was also considered a step down due to Four being very whimsical compared to Three, and with certain sub-eras within that era being considered too violent and scary for younger audiences). The same thing happened in the eighties, with many fans feeling frustrated with John Nathan-Turner's time as producer of the show during that decade. Like I've explained, every era and incarnation goes through periods where it is considered "bad" or "lacklustre" compared to its predeccesor, before being reappraised later on and being reviewed on its own merits.

Now, I personally didn't like a lot of the Moffat era, but I recognise that has more to do with a personal dislike for the way Moffat wrote the show than as a sign that the whole era was objectively bad. There are many episodes within that era that I enjoyed. Just because I have my own biases when it comes to certain Doctor Who eras, that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy each one on its own merits. Having watched the vast majority of Doctor Who, I've grown to appreciate the differences in how each era operates and what each sets out to achieve.

I'm not "defending" the Chibnall era; it has its issues, just as much as any other era of the show does. I made the original post because I think it's unfair to judge one era of the show by the standards of another. It would be like judging "An Unearthly Child" (the very first Doctor Who story) by the standards of -say- "Earthshock" (the second-to-last story of season 19).

That doesn't mean that I agree with everything in the Chibnall era; far from it, I personally think the thesis of "Kerblam!" was rather muddled, since the point of the episode is supposedly about AI but most people ended up seeing it as being about Amazon and late-stage capitalism. And, obviously, that stuff from "Spyfall Part 2" wasn't thought out and does leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Every era of Doctor Who is going to have things in it that either are not thought out properly or age badly very quickly. "The Talons of Weng-Chiang" was considered racist and distasteful even at the time it was broadcast during the Fourth Doctors era. The way Tegan, Nyssa and Peri were objectified during the eighties was unpleasant and troubling, to say the least. The first RTD era had significant issues when it came to how Martha Jones and other characters from minority backgrounds were treated. The Moffat era had significant issues with misogyny and the treatment of female characters throughout.

I'm confused by what you mean by "centre-right libs". I'm given to understand that "liberals" tend to be more of centre-left in American politics. Now, if you are British, you'll probably know this already (in which case you'll have to forgive me for the explanation), but our political system tends to be slighly further leftwards. We do have a Liberal-Democratic strain of politics, but they tend to more centre-left and are considered a distant third party compared to the broadly left-wing Labour Party and broadly right wing Conservative Party. While I would say that Moffat is more right-wing at times (especially so when regarding his treatment of women), from what I can gather, no-one seems to be able to agree on the political undercurrents of Chibnall's work; some people regard him as being very progressive (given that he had more writers from minority backgrounds in his writing team than both RTD and Moffat combined, and included many queer characters throughout the era) whilst others regard him as rather conservative. Personally, I'd regard as centre-left (by the sounds of it, he took the criticism from "Spyfall part 2" on-board and worked hard to correct that in series 13).

Looking at the era objectively, what I can say is that the Chibnall era was an era of Doctor Who, and that it was liked by some people and disliked by other people. Any other statement would be subjective.

My original post was more about how the Chibnall era was seen by some people as very serious despite having plenty of fun moments. My apologies if that wasn't clear.

Please be considerate that I don't particularly enjoy discourse; I made the original post as a joke and it wasn't intended to upset or offend anyone.

Some people online: So glad to see Doctor Who being fun and campy again! This previous era was too serious!

The previous era:

#reblog #discourse #long post #not everyone is going to enjoy every era of this show and that's fine #i don't want to keep arguing back and forth so i'll just leave this here #i suppose we'll have to agree-to-disagree

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cogentranting · 1 year ago

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Okay Full Mission Impossible Dead Reckoning thoughts:

What I Didn't Like:

Kind of random and overly specific, but the scene early on in the movie with a bunch of government guys giving the infodump about what the AI thing is and everything the audience needed to know. Hate that scene. Hate how it was filmed and edited. NOT that it was an infodump-- I think that was just a necessary evil. I hate that You couldn't tell who anyone was, four people were trading off dialogue in an incredibly unnatural way, everything was closeups, I don't know where they were or what that meeting was (or why Ethan gassed it?). Also it had flashbacks interspersed in it to something that happened literally just one scene before. Hate this scene so much you have no idea.

The AI thing does not work for me. I think it's too all-knowing and that strained credulity. It was also very abstract and vague as a threat and that made it not very compelling. It also means you sacrifice having an ACTUAL villain.

Speaking of, I think Gabriel is an issue. I know they're going for a cold brutal killing machine kind of vibe but he just kind of ends up boring. If there was a more immediate villain to latch onto while teasing Gabriel's motivations it might work better. I also found the mystery surrounding Ethan's past connection to Gabriel more frustrating than intriguing. I think if they had just told us what that history was, it would have given me something to care about in regards to Ethan and I think that's sorely lacking.

I think Ethan is consistently the least interesting character in these movies and is easily the least interesting of the major super spy franchise characters.

The plot moved past complicated into convoluted territory and dragged on a little too long. And I don't know if they've justified to me why THIS mission Impossible movie should be two parts.

I talked about it elsewhere but this franchise really does have an issue with how it handles its female characters.

It doesn't totally work for me to try to sell Grace as BOTH the wide-eyed innocent, and an internationally renowned thief.

What I Did Like:

Hayley Atwell, Simon Pegg and Ving Rhames are all killing it. All three characters I enjoy. Vanessa Kirby- also quite fun.

The car chase with Grace and Ethan hand-cuffed together was probably my favorite action sequence. Most of the other action sequences are also a good time (except that climbing the train I think went on too long and became more stressful than enjoyable) and that's the main reason to watch these MI movies.

The whole thing looks good.

Grace's character is an interesting look at this world

Mixed Feelings and Random Observations:

I don't know what having Ethan "go rogue" for this mission did for the story. I think the story could have been simplified down and just have that and the two CIA (?) guys completely removed from the plot.

There are multiple things that I just don't understand. And I'm putting it here because I don't know if that's me or if it didn't make sense, but regardless I do think it's the result of the plot getting convoluted. -The bomb in the airport?? I think the idea was that Gabriel put it there to manipulate Ethan and his team to get them where he wanted them (the meeting with Vaness Kirby), but I don't quite know A. why it had that effect B. why he wanted that C. why the bomb was a weird puzzle box or D. How Benji solved the last clue -Is Kittridge evil? -Why was Cary Elwes' character even in this movie? What did he add? -Are those two guys following Ethan around (IMDB says their names are Briggs and Degas) CIA or IMF? -How did "the Entity" get out in the first place?

Pom Klementieff's character probably didn't need to be there but actually the movie would have benefitted from having MORE of her (cut Degas and Briggs, and give us more Paris) but also her inclusion was odd and it wasn't clear who she was or why she was there.

The scene where everyone's running around Venice trying to kill each other-- why did no one bring a gun? But Ilsa had a sword???

I thought for sure that when Grace told Ethan her name she was lying (because she's an international thief hired by a crime lord to tail him and steal from him and he's some kind of super spy. Why wouldn't she lie about her name? ) but then they never said anything about it, and didn't give another name and when she was trying to get immunity from Kittridge she said 'Grace' again so I guess she's just an international jewel thief who goes around handing out her real name?

Were Ilsa and Ethan together? Are Grace and Ethan romantically interested in each other? Does he still have a wife somewhere?

Also the thing is while I object to the movie's handling of Ilsa's death on a theoretical level (because it treats her as disposable and no one seems that upset, and it's like they think they can't have more than one woman on the team) I also think she's boring and didn't really care that she died.

Luther just left in the middle of things and I think that's hilarious.

Overall, I still enjoyed watching it but it's the kind of movie that sort of invites me to dig deeper into all the little things I don't like about it. So I'd give it a C, but a mid to low C.

#mission impossible dead reckoning spoilers #mission impossible dead reckoning review #long post

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toyahinterviews · 2 years ago

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THE DYSPRAXIC HELP 4U PODCAST WITH BILLY STANLEY 10.10.2021

BILL: Welcome to the podcast, Toyah. How are you? TOYAH: I'm really good. Thank you very much. It's nice to have some normality back in life BILL: I must start by asking when did you learn that you were dyspraxic? TOYAH: Very early. I had a very remarkable teacher when I was in infant school and it was about my second year and she realised I was very, very bright and very creative. My very first year at school when I was four and a half, we were allowed to work with colour and crayons. So when we were taught mathematics, we had different coloured bricks, which represented numbers I (was) top of the class at that. Then with using crayons - top of the class with that. And then when we moved to the following year when I was five people very quickly realised I could not pick up the normal standard training reading and the normal standard training of numbers. They were just gobbledygook to me

So I was put on phonetic writing - the “Janet and John” books I was given in phonetics and then I could immediately read. But once I was six, none of that was available to me. It was completely taken away and treated as if I was lazy, treated as if I wasn't making an effort. I think part of the problem was is the school didn't like me having special treatment. They didn't want me being singled out to be someone special. I went from being top of the class to the next 10 years being bottom of the class until I left BILLY: Did you have the support of your immediate family and friends? TOYAH: They didn't even support me when I was an international megastar! BILLY: Did you struggle to conform to social norms and the trials and tribulations of being neurodivergent and did having a personality suppressed throughout your mainstream education somehow mould you into the person you are today?

TOYAH: I think I felt very alone. But teenagers generally feel alone. School for me was tedious and it was boring. I should have been at a drama school where I would have excelled or a music school where I would have excelled. I just did not fit into the conservatism of my education. So I would say in answer to your question that I became quite insular and incredibly independent because of it because there was no one I could rely on There was no one I could go to and say, “why can't I do this? Why don't people listen? Why don't people see me as me?” So everything I did I was told I was wrong and I was told I was being the wrong person. So no one saw me in my true natural state and my true nature. So I think it actually made me who and what I became as a star BILLY: Dyspraxics often say that they play the fool as a means of masking our differences. Do you consider yourself to have been always the master your true persona?

TOYAH: I tell you one thing that I did do was I covered up brilliantly in social situations, where I knew what was coming because of culturally where I came from. I had a bad speech impediment and at that time I had a limp because I was born with a twisted spine and pelvic dysplasia, which is all been corrected. I knew that people were going to make a joke out of me. So I knew how to cover this up. I knew how to bluff my way. When I went to my first job interview, I just lied and I'm a great actress. So I just lied and I got the job Interestingly, the director Derek Jarman, who I did two movies with, who used to come and see me sing - he said to me “Toyah, you’re still acting”, and he understood that I had to create these layers. I think the most frustrating thing that I found - it wasn't really until I met my husband at the age of 25-26 where he was so crystal clear about my cognitive issues. Up until that point, I just went with being highly individualistic and deliberately not fitting in. But I thought that was part of my personality rather than my inner internal neural pathway wiring BILLY: Given that dyspraxia is a lifelong disability, has it impacted you more throughout adulthood?

TOYAH: My my dyspraxia has got worse as I've got older. When I was younger, say from when I was born until I was about nine I had no idea I had disability. No idea. I led a perfectly normal life. I was being trained to be a junior ice skater alongside John Curry, the Olympian. I had a very normal life and then once my corrective surgeries started, I realised that this was a disability that was going to be with me on a certain level all of my life People made me aware of the limp, which I was never aware of and people made me aware of my speech impediment, which I was never aware of. I just thought I was being treated like the village idiot all the time, which is what culturally happened 55 years ago. So my dyspraxia has definitely got worse as I've got older but in lockdown I found the most incredible teacher who has a military background and he studied my movement. And by studying my movement, he was able to reverse my dyspraxia so I can now play keyboards and I can now play guitar. I've written 30 odd albums and I've never been able to play one instrument There are ways of connecting those neural pathways and he did it through physical exercise. In 2000 I did the “Dore Programme” which is highly controversial. The government have tried to sweep it under the carpet. I did this for three months and went away and wrote two books. That's all about connecting and firing the neural pathways in the front cerebellum through movement. Through spinning, through disorientation and balance

BILLY: Without the intervention of a family friend do you believe you would have gone on to achieve the career you've had? And as such did the lack of awareness and support for your respective disabilities in adolescence hold you back in some regards later in life?

TOYAH: It's a very good question. I think if people saw and accepted and realised what was going on with the relationship between my brain development and my body growing rather than giving up on me I would have had a far more advanced artistic career. No doubt about it. But I was written off very early as purely baby making material. I never had children and I think instinctively I knew I was carrying a gene that had this disability So it's such a good question, because when I was about 14, and this is just a story of complete luck, a man that ran BBC Pebble Mill had a boat next to my parent's boat down on the River Avon. He said to my parents "you know your daughter is incredibly talented. You've got to get her out of the school system and put her in drama school" and he nominated me into the Birmingham Old Rep Theatre School. I never looked back. I just excelled! I was put in the right environment. So up until the age of 14 I was never in the right environment BILLY: You had an early interest in dancing. Did you encounter any difficulties such as a lack of spacial awareness?

TOYAH: I took up dance when probably about 14. I earned my own money, I paid for my own dance classes. And again, anything to do with movement will trigger the neurons. What I didn't know back then was dehydration and the neurons not quite firing goes hand in hand. I was never given water at school. I drank one glass of water a day. Now I drink five litres of water a day. The brain cannot function in a state of dehydration, neither can your heart So I never knew this at school. We never had water in the classroom. We never had water available to us until lunchtime, and then again when we got home. So all of that is a perfect storm. When I was dancing and even still today, I think it's why I'm never still when I move my neurons - I can feel the fireing. I can feel my brain activate. You want to feel good, just move. We’re water, fat and electricity. So connect with all of that BILLY: Dyspraxics often struggle to learn new information at a rapid pace and have weak short term memory. We do however seem to have fantastic long term memories. Has this been the case for you?

TOYAH: It's a great question because I can give you two examples. I did a play in London called “Trafford Tanzi” about a female wrestler. I‘d pick the fight sequences up on first show. The fighting instructor, a judo Olympian showed me the fight sequences for this two and a half hour play. He never had to show me them again. They were there. When you give me a script, and I have a reading technique where I'm very, very slow but it’s there But give me a dance routine in a West End musical (Toyah in "Cabaret" in 1987, below) it takes me months because I need to connect the counting to the music score and I feel music as as a kind of heartbeat. Musicians feel music has 1234 1234. I don't feel music that way. And dancer’s choreography - they build dances through counting. It's hopeless for me. Hopeless. So I excel at some things and other things I have to find my own way in and that can take time

BILLY: Did you encounter any difficulties such as the lack of spacial awareness, poor balance and where you're also impeded by needing to wear a raised shoe? TOYAH: The thing is most of the time I wore a raised shoe on my right leg. My right leg has now been made the same length. 10 years ago I had surgery to make my right leg the same length. So when I wasn't wearing the raised shoe, my balance was affected and also my gait. Limp is called a gait and I had an emphasised gait. But again, I'm incredibly muscular so I can cover these things up But I think my movement is very individualistic. And it's not what I'd call feminine movement. It's strong movement. I move like a gymnast. I'm very, very strong and very supple, and that’s partly because my tendons are just too long for my joints. So I overextend but my movement is quite unique BILLY: You've had numerous operations in the past to help with your physical disabilities, unbeknownst to your fans and peers. Would you say it was a conscious decision and what impact does all this have on your dyspraxia?

TOYAH: No, I wouldn't because I managed to disguise it. So up until about the age of 30 my life was pretty normal. I'd had joints removed in my toes to stop them growing and I'd had corrective surgery on my right foot when I was 11. But after that I had a relatively normal life other than I could never wear lovely shoes and still can't because I have a club foot. When I was 30 my right hip socket wasn't formed. It was a shallow socket and it developed a very bad abscess when I was 40 that hollowed out the thigh. There was a huge hole there For 21 years I had to live with that and that was done through pain control. So when I say pain control, that's physiotherapy, it's not drugs. I was allowed to carry Co-Codamol (painkiller) if I needed it, but I managed not to use it. They didn't want to do the surgery on me until the prosthetics were fully developed So when I was 51, a very wonderful incredible surgeon called Richard Villar designed a prosthetic for me. It's very, very tiny. He took the hip joint out and put in the metal plate into my hip, pelvis, and then this tiny prosthetic goes in to the hole that the cysts formed. I couldn't walk for three months. I was off my my legs for three months while bone grew around that. And I've had a normal life since

So from the age of 30 until I was 50 I was under pain control management. That was all done through extreme muscle. I tell everyone this, if you've got joint problem problems you've got to be built like Arnold Schwarzenegger, because this muscle helps that tendon function through a dysfunctional joint. Then you can support that joint and you could probably live with it for your whole lifetime. By the time Richard Villar did my right hip he said the whole area had completely disintegrated. He had no idea how I coped and I said “I've just had to do this all my life. I know how to mask” So I found - once I had my hip replacement at 51, I'm now 63 - my dyspraxia became worse because my brain had to adjust to a different leg length so I became clumsier. And I'm now dealing with that. It has actually taken about eight years to deal with it BILLY: Is there anything in particular that you've struggled with when it comes to masking?

TOYAH: You see it in the hands. It's a classic sign that when I'm acting and when I'm expressing my hands kind of freeze. So now I've trained my hands so you will often see me - I will not spread my fingers. I've taught myself not to do that. So my hands are always closed fingers now BILLY: I strongly believe that through dedication and perseverance one can overcome adversity to achieve success. Was there ever a time when you felt like giving up? TOYAH: I'm not someone who gives up because in my upbringing, even though my family felt they loved me, it was so unnutritious on my soul, my body and my heart. I was brought up to be a failure, everyone reflected back at me failure. So because of that I'm the toughest fighter you will ever meet. I just don't give up, I will fight to the death whatever the subject matter is. And that's partly my upbringing, because I was always told I was going to fail So when I reached 30, I had to disguise the pain. That was the biggest thing, disguising the pain, so no one knew and I think there must have been times when people wondered why I was tense rather than relaxed. It's as simple as that. I was always masking pain. There are certain things and I can only explain this through a performance. I was playing “Puck” in “Midsummer Night's Dream” about 1994 (above). So I would have been about 36 and I masked the pain by working on skateboards, roller skates and a penny-farthing so I didn't have to run

So I could get my sweeping movements on stage by using the skateboard as a body board. So I would run in the wings, jump onto the skateboard onto my body and curve around on the stage and then stand and deliver my lines. That was a way of masking pain because I knew the pain built I could do shows but by the end of the show the pain would be building to intolerable. When I did “Calamity Jane” in the West End, which was incredibly physical - the irony of that was because it was so physical I didn't experience any pain in the whole year because I was so physically tuned up and that helped. Except on one night and an actor dropped me and it did my back in. But that’s the only time I've ever had an injury So it's been a very interesting journey and I would say to people you just don't give up. You just have to keep learning any kind of mild physical disability, which is how I say I am. Just keep working with it. You don't give up because everyone around you is is telling you to give up. You just don't BILLY: There is a common misconception in society that dyspraxia affects intellectual ability. We generally struggle to absorb information that has no bearing on our intelligence overall

TOYAH: I'm a complete sponge. I'm ahead of everyone in the room, which I think is what confuses people so much. I'm very, very small. I have a slight lisp. I have a slight gait. My malatropisms are frequent in every sentence I say, but I'm ahead of everyone. So I think it's this super intelligence. It has absolutely nothing to do with the condition in your body. You're still intelligent. I read every newspaper every morning within an hour and maintain that information. But there are certain areas that I can't maintain information on I would never make a politician because it just makes no sense to me what politicians do. If you're not helping someone earn a living, have food on the table and be healthy you're not doing your job and as far as I can see everything politicians do is illogical and just help CEOs get big fees in big companies So when I see something illogical and there's so much in the world that isn't logical I can't work that out. It will never make sense to me. But on other levels I have super intelligence and I don't mind patting myself on the back with that. I'm ahead of everyone in the room

BILLY: How are you when it comes to reading between the lines both in your personal and professional life? TOYAH: I have to study myself all the time in mirrors. Going up for a part I have to change the way I move. I have to deal with the hands. I'm incredible at reading people. You get people that do face recognition for the police. I can read someone literally in five seconds because I’ve studied myself so much. So I'm a very good reader of personality traits BILLY: After many years as an actor and a musician touring, can you withstand the constant changes of the lineups and surroundings? Are longtime colleagues supportive of your neurodiversity and the way that you work? TOYAH: It's a good question because in the following week I'm working with three different groups. I've always kind of ended up with different bands. The Toyah band, what's fabulous about the band is we've been together for 18 years. They know how I need to learn something and they know when I can't learn something. They know the route in and we have kind of eye signals and hand signals on stage when I've lost the count. I anchor by the downbeat. Now, most musicians don't need a downbeat, they can work around that downbeat (makes a tsk tsk tsk noise) I need the boom, boom, boom, that's how I recognise music

So the Toyah band make that very easy for me. As a solo artist - it's important to me to be a solo artist because it's important to me to establish who and what I feel I am rather than what other people feel who and what I am. I'm not a person that lives by others opinions. And I think that makes some people … I'm difficult to be with for some people because I won't let people tread on me. It's all my upbringing, it's all survival. It's all how dare you tell me that my precious time isn't how I perceive it BILLY: Is it fair to say you're still fighting an uphill battle with acceptance and credibility as a neurodivergent woman in the entertainment industry? TOYAH: I’m fighting the war and I'm a woman and you've got that as well - being a woman in the music industry. There's quite a war going on all the time BILLY: I discovered via your blog on toyahwillcox.com that you are also dyslexic. As a fellow dyslexic myself, I am in awe of the fact that you've penned two books and have co-written nearly 30 albums throughout your impressive career to date. Have you ever felt like you've been at a disadvantage in comparison to your peers?

TOYAH: There are some authors I will never be able to read because they have a way of thinking that I believe is brought to them through their education and it's quite an elite education. There are some authors like Stephen King - I can pick a book up and read it in two hours. But there's other authors I have to go through with a dictionary. I have to go through each paragraph three times There is an elitism in writing and because I read the newspapers - the simpler writing techniques like The Sun and The Mail - I can read those in five minutes. If I'm going to go to The Independent and The Guardian and The Observer I'm like oh, I don't understand that. So what do they mean? Why have they said that? Three sentences later, they're saying that … I just have to go over and over and over it BILLY: Do you find putting pen to paper easy and does it play a big part in your day to day life?

TOYAH: Both books are a stream of consciousness. I don't know about you, but I think about my life like a diary. So say that's a diary (rustles some paper) Every single note of every single day is in that order in my brain right through virtually to my first memories. I could tell you what I was doing a year ago and what I was wearing, and that really freaks people out So when I'm in a situation and I was in the situation two days ago rehearsing the tour band for “Posh Pop”, which is the new album. They wanted to change an arrangement. So that in my head is like taking the ABC and just throwing it at the wall. It's literally like that. I can't hold it down. I can't sequence and I'm saying sorry, I'm having a brainstorm here I'm going to have to stop everything, write it down in its order, learn it, see it, photograph it in my brain to get the line still. So sometimes when I look at print, the print becomes a black block. Impenetrable. You're just looking at a blank block or it's like confetti firing off and I can't control the images

So reading books … I know a good writer Alice Sebold, “Lovely Bones”. That is an intellectual book. I read it in two hours, because she wrote it as a stream of consciousness. So with both of my books “Living Out Loud” and “Diary Of A Facelift” - they’re streams of consciousness. But because my consciousness is so ordered, when I write something it has that order in it BILLY: Your incredible acting career has seen you star in a cult classic film “Quadrophenia” and opposite Laurence Olivier in “The Ebony Tower”. You've also tread the boards in big West End shows and have appeared in TV shows, both as an actor and presenter. What impression did the people you've worked with leave on you? TOYAH: I’d say in “Quadrophenia” we were soul brothers and sisters, we're all the same. There was one standout, absolutely brilliant intellectual and that was Sting. He could do anything with such eloquence and brilliance, but the rest of us we were of similar mental ability and function Laurence Olivier was exceptional and I think part of this exceptionality was his generation. Seen two wars, have had to survive, gone without food, not knowing waking up every day and I think not knowing made exceptional human beings. I'm not saying it's good but Katharine Hepburn, Lord Olivier, Sir John Mills, Diana Dors, exceptional human beings. They shone

BILLY: What did it feel like working with Laurence Olivier? TOYAH: I came out of “Trafford Tanzi”, which was a massive critical success so I was pretty confident when I worked with Laurence Olivier (below, with Toyah in "The Ebony Tower") What I was aware of that he was in the latter part of his life and he wasn't well, but I absorbed him like a sponge because he had done so much and he had fought so much for what he believed in. The National Theatre was not an easy thing for him to do and then to be put into a Hollywood system when really he was passionately in love with the stage was not an easy journey for him The Hollywood system messed up his wife, Vivian Lee, and I witnessed this with Katharine Hepburn that the Hollywood system of the golden era of Hollywood was a cruel system. So I was looking at another survivor and recognised that and just was absolutely in awe of all of them. Huge respect

BILLY: You've got the same fight and spirit that those stars of yesteryear had. Does it hold you in good stead? TOYAH: I've got my limitations. My physicality gives me limitations as an actress. I was looking at people who were seen as chameleon who could be anything. So I didn't actually hold myself in the same regard as them. But I am still a fighter BILLY: In 1984, you had the honour of being invited to make a speech at the Women of the Year in the presence of Diana, Princess of Wales (above with Toyah) Your speech expressed views on how being disabled incites creativity. What was the driving force behind your speech? TOYAH: It was a huge honour, Woman Of The Year celebrations. It's so motivationally important and you think well, why in a time today but it's incredibly important. To be invited to do that was just amazing. I wanted to just say that because I've been perceived educationally as a no hoper - and even my husband Robert Fripp, one of the world's greatest guitarists - then two weeks ago, (he) said to me and my guitar teacher "Toyah is unteachable". Even he thinks I'm unteachable

I felt it was an opportunity to stand up and talk about the people I attract in my life, who seem definitely to have some form of disability. And the question is, is it disability or is it a different perception and experience? All are viable So in this speech I talked about two deaf male friends in an audience at Shaftesbury Avenue Theatre. I think 1982 or 83 where I was giving a concert and they were sign languaging the lyrics to each other. I realised they couldn't actually hear the music, but they were experiencing it. So I told this story In 1987 that's was revolutionary, we were just beginning within music theory to understand that people who are locked into their bodies but can't express themselves were still experiencing life and experiencing emotions. So this was all revolutionary and has come a long, long way since then I gave this speech and I just wanted to say that we need to see disability as these people have rights of access to everything but their disability doesn't stop them being phenomenal. So how do we use the word disability? I think we've come a long, long way in those last decades to making everything accessible and possible for everyone and that if we're educated at school, to know that we are all utterly physically unique, then we develop languages and connections no matter who and what we're connecting with It crosses boundaries, we need to cross boundaries and I think that's what that speech was about. If you read it today, I was probably using politically incorrect language but all of that is being ironed out and I'm certainly learning every day about the new language and the new acceptance and what can be said and what shouldn't be said (Watch the speech HERE)

BILLY: As a 31 year old with significant hearing difficulties I applaud you for taking a stand and making the speech that resonated experiences you'd had at the time. Every generation must play its part in spinning the wheel of change for the greater good with the best of intentions

TOYAH: Every generation must have the right to change the world for good. Every generation must do that. Our present young generation who’ve had 15 months of COVID now deserve the mantle, they deserve the right to change the world for good and it's quite an extraordinary time to be alive. I think it’ll only change if people are taught about this So when I work with my band and if a firestorm starts in my head, I tell them. I say "could you just stop talking while I sort my head out?” Because sometimes you're having a firestorm and you just need to put everything back in place and conversation can be exhausting. I just educate them about what I need Three years ago, I was in a play (as Queen Elizabeth I in "Jubilee", 2018, above) with a profoundly deaf actress. Sophie Stone, breathtaking actress and she said to us if we talk away from her she's not involved in the conversation. We had to learn to socially interact in that way to make sure we were always facing Sophie. But another thing she said that after eight hours of rehearsal, of reading sign language and doing sign language and reading lips, she was exhausted and she needed to be alone So it's all about interaction and learning and acceptance on a social and a work level. If we're not given that time, or we're not given that journey, the integration and the acceptance and the equality of it hasn't got a chance. So we need to learn this from the dyspraxics and the dyslexics and the hidden disabilities as well

BILLY: What coping strategies do you use for dyspraxia and dyslexia? Awareness of dyspraxia pales in comparison to other hidden disabilities. What do you think is the cause for this? TOYAH: It's always been a big problem for everyone in my life that I am so capable of sitting in silence for weeks on end. I've actually gone months, well, let's say a month without even uttering a word. Silence and solitude for me is as informative creatively as it is for people in a nightclub. I think part of that is I have exceptional hearing. It's a massive problem. I am three doors away from the street and I can hear people talking on the pavement outside So everyone that comes into this house who knows me is aware that my hearing is exceptional. Because of that I do get very, very tired. There's a lot of information coming in all the time. Socially I say to people, let's get together, let's have a cocktail hour. If it goes to two hours, great. But after that I'm not good company. I get very, very tired by overstimulation of being social. And it's not criticism. It is just how I’m made BILLY: During the pandemic, you and your husband Robert kept the fans entertained while uploading many short, humorous videos online, going viral and racking up billions of hits. You've evidently helped people throughout the past year to keep a smile on their faces, but how have you coped mentally as a neurodiversive person?

TOYAH: By doing exactly what you just said. I can't really do nothing. The first three weeks of lockdown I was in silence. I was meditating. I was actually praying a lot. Praying for my friends. We had a lot of people pass from cancer in that first three weeks. We lost two musicians. That first three weeks were very, very hard and then after that I realised that we were all in the same boat I wanted my husband to move and I started to teach them how to dance, which he hated. And then we started to do these crazy little films which he absolutely loathed in the beginning. But the messages coming back with “thank you, you saved my life. I'm alone in a single room apartment and I don't know what to do.” So all these messages were coming from around the world Slowly we realised that we'd hit on something that neither of us had ever touched upon before - that is our music was actually really affecting people's lives in a good way. So for me, the lockdown has been the busiest part of my life creating Toyah YouTube. But it's also kept me sane because I'm a performer and a performer needs an audience and it's as simple as that BILLY: Did it feel like you were personally letting fans down when having to cancel gigs despite it being out of your control? Did the move on to YouTube reassure your fans that all is well and normality will resume eventually?

TOYAH: Not only that. People who bought tickets didn't know when they were going to see you and people can't give up that money easily in a lockdown if they're not being furloughed, but they're out of work. You want to protect your audience, you want your audience to know that you see them, hear them and honour them. I had three tours cancelled and I wanted people to know that they hadn't lost that ticket money. So the whole of the connection through internet became vital and very, very precious BILLY: I am very much looking forward to seeing you live on tour in March 2022 TOYAH: Oh, that's fantastic! Good! We’ll know what we're doing by March. Completely new lineup, completely new sound BILLY: The “Posh Pop” tour gets underway in autumn of 2021. performing songs from the new album, hits and classics with electro acoustic band. Thank you for appearing on the The Dyspraxic Help 4U Podcast TOYAH: Thank you and thank you for understanding the process Listen to the podcast HERE

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