#justice for natalie wood

[natz72038]

Today marks 43 years since Natalie Wood was discovered floating in the ocean. It’s crazy to think that she’s been dead for as long as she was alive…

[disabled-dragoon]

The Disability Library

I love books, I love literature, and I love this blog, but it's only been recently that I've really been given the option to explore disabled literature, and I hate that. When I was a kid, all I wanted was to be able to read about characters like me, and now as an adult, all I want is to be able to read a book that takes us seriously.

And so, friends, Romans, countrymen, I present, a special disability and chronic illness booklist, compiled by myself and through the contributions of wonderful members from this site!

As always, if there are any at all that you want me to add, please just say. I'm always looking for more!

Edit 20/10/2023: You can now suggest books using the google form at the bottom!

Updated: 31/08/2023

Articles and Chapters

The Drifting Language of Architectural Accessibility in Victor Hugo's Notre-Dame de Paris, Essaka Joshua, 2012

Early Modern Literature and Disability Studies, Allison P. Hobgood, David Houston Wood, 2017

How Do You Develop Whole Object Relations as an Adult?, Elinor Greenburg, 2019

Making Do with What You Don't Have: Disabled Black Motherhood in Octavia E. Butler's Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents, Anna Hinton, 2018

Necropolitics, Achille Mbeme, 2003 OR Necropolitics, Achille Mbeme, 2019

Wasted Lives: Modernity and Its Outcasts, Zygmunt Bauman, 2004

Witchcraft and deformity in early modern English Literature, Scott Eaton, 2020

Books

Fiction:

Misc:

10 Things I Can See From Here, Carrie Mac

A-F:

A Curse So Dark and Lonely, (Series), Brigid Kemmerer

Akata Witch, (Series), Nnedi Okorafor

A Mango-Shaped Space, Wendy Mass

Ancillary Justice, (Series), Ann Leckie

An Unkindness of Ghosts, Rivers Solomon

An Unseen Attraction, (Series), K. J. Charles

A Shot in the Dark, Victoria Lee

A Snicker of Magic, Natalie Lloyd

A Song of Ice and Fire, (series), George R. R. Martin

A Spindle Splintered, (Series), Alix E. Harrow

A Time to Dance, Padma Venkatraman

Bath Haus, P. J. Vernon

Beasts of Prey, (Series), Ayana Gray

The Bedlam Stacks, (Series), Natasha Pulley

Black Bird, Blue Road, Sofiya Pasternack

Black Sun, (Series), Rebecca Roanhorse

Blood Price, (Series), Tanya Huff

Borderline, (Series), Mishell Baker

Breath, Donna Jo Napoli

The Broken Kingdoms, (Series), N.K. Jemisin

Brute, Kim Fielding

Cafe con Lychee, Emery Lee

Carry the Ocean, (Series), Heidi Cullinan

Challenger Deep, Neal Shusterman

Cinder, (Series), Marissa Meyer

Clean, Amy Reed

Connection Error, (Series), Annabeth Albert

Cosima Unfortunate Steals A Star, Laura Noakes

Crazy, Benjamin Lebert

Crooked Kingdom, (Series), Leigh Bardugo

Daniel Cabot Puts Down Roots, (Series), Cat Sebastian

Daniel, Deconstructed, James Ramos

Dead in the Garden, (Series), Dahlia Donovan

Dear Fang, With Love, Rufi Thorpe

Deathless Divide, (Series), Justina Ireland

The Degenerates, J. Albert Mann

The Doctor's Discretion, E.E. Ottoman

Earth Girl, (Series), Janet Edwards

Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead, Emily R. Austin

The Extraordinaries, (Series), T. J. Klune

The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict, (Series), Trenton Lee Stewart

Fight + Flight, Jules Machias

The Final Girl Support Group, Grady Hendrix

Finding My Voice, (Series), Aoife Dooley

The First Thing About You, Chaz Hayden

Follow My Leader, James B. Garfield

Forever Is Now, Mariama J. Lockington

Fortune Favours the Dead, (Series), Stephen Spotswood

Fresh, Margot Wood

H-0:

Harmony, London Price

Harrow the Ninth, (series), Tamsyn Muir

Hench, (Series), Natalia Zina Walschots

Highly Illogical Behaviour, John Corey Whaley

Honey Girl, Morgan Rogers

How to Become a Planet, Nicole Melleby

How to Bite Your Neighbor and Win a Wager, (Series), D. N. Bryn

How to Sell Your Blood & Fall in Love, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites, Joy Demorra

I Am Not Alone, Francisco X. Stork

The Immeasurable Depth of You, Maria Ingrande Mora

In the Ring, Sierra Isley

Into The Drowning Deep, (Series), Mira Grant

Iron Widow, (Series), Xiran Jay Zhao

Izzy at the End of the World, K. A. Reynolds

Jodie's Journey, Colin Thiele

Just by Looking at Him, Ryan O'Connell

Kissing Doorknobs, Terry Spencer Hesser

Lakelore, Anna-Marie McLemore

Learning Curves, (Series), Ceillie Simkiss

Let's Call It a Doomsday, Katie Henry

The Library of the Dead, (Series), TL Huchu

The Lion Hunter, (Series), Elizabeth Wein

Lirael, (Series), Garth Nix

Long Macchiatos and Monsters, Alison Evans

Love from A to Z, (Series), S.K. Ali

Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses, Kristen O'Neal

Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro

The Never Tilting World, (Series), Rin Chupeco

The No-Girlfriend Rule, Christen Randall

Nona the Ninth, (series), Tamsyn Muir

Noor, Nnedi Okorafor

Odder Still, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Once Stolen, (Series), D. N. Bryn

One For All, Lillie Lainoff

On the Edge of Gone, Corinne Duyvis

Origami Striptease, Peggy Munson

Our Bloody Pearl, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Out of My Mind, Sharon M. Draper

P-T:

Parable of the Sower, (Series), Octavia E. Butler

Parable of the Talents, (Series), Octavia E. Butler

Percy Jackson & the Olympians, (series), Rick Riordan

Pomegranate, Helen Elaine Lee

The Prey of Gods, Nicky Drayden

The Pursuit Of..., (Series), Courtney Milan

The Queen's Thief, (Series), Megan Whalen Turner

The Quiet and the Loud, Helena Fox

The Raging Quiet, Sheryl Jordan

The Reanimator's Heart, (Series), Kara Jorgensen

The Remaking of Corbin Wale, Joan Parrish

Roll with It, (Series), Jamie Sumner

Russian Doll, (Series), Cristelle Comby

The Second Mango, (Series), Shira Glassman

Scar of the Bamboo Leaf, Sieni A.M

Shaman, (Series), Noah Gordon

Sick Kids in Love, Hannah Moskowitz

The Silent Boy, Lois Lowry

Six of Crows, (Series) Leigh Bardugo

Sizzle Reel, Carlyn Greenwald

The Spare Man, Mary Robinette Kowal

The Stagsblood Prince, (Series), Gideon E. Wood

Stake Sauce, Arc 1: The Secret Ingredient is Love. No, Really, (Series), RoAnna Sylver

Stars in Your Eyes, Kacen Callender [Expected release: Oct 2023]

The Storm Runner, (Series), J. C. Cervantes

Stronger Still, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Sweetblood, Pete Hautman

Tarnished Are the Stars, Rosiee Thor

The Theft of Sunlight, (Series), Intisar Khanani

Throwaway Girls, Andrea Contos

Top Ten, Katie Cotugno

Torch, Lyn Miller-Lachmann

Treasure, Rebekah Weatherspoon

Turtles All the Way Down, John Green

U-Z:

Unlicensed Delivery, Will Soulsby-McCreath Expected release October 2023

Verona Comics, Jennifer Dugan

Vorkosigan Saga, (Series), Lois McMaster Bujold

We Are the Ants, (Series), Shaun David Hutchinson

The Weight of Our Sky, Hanna Alkaf

Whip, Stir and Serve, Caitlyn Frost and Henry Drake

The Whispering Dark, Kelly Andrew

Wicked Sweet, Chelsea M. Cameron

Wonder, (Series), R. J. Palacio

Wrong to Need You, (Series), Alisha Rai

Ziggy, Stardust and Me, James Brandon

Graphic Novels:

A Quick & Easy Guide to Sex & Disability, (Non-Fiction), A. Andrews

Constellations, Kate Glasheen

Dancing After TEN: a graphic memoir, (memoir) (Non-Fiction), Vivian Chong, Georgia Webber

Everything Is an Emergency: An OCD Story in Words Pictures, (memoir) (Non-Fiction), Jason Adam Katzenstein

Frankie's World: A Graphic Novel, (Series), Aoife Dooley

The Golden Hour, Niki Smith

Nimona, N. D. Stevenson

The Third Person, (memoir) (Non-Fiction), Emma Grove

Magazines and Anthologies:

Artificial Divide, (Anthology), Robert Kingett, Randy Lacey

Beneath Ceaseless Skies #175: Grandmother-nai-Leylit's Cloth of Winds, (Article), R. B. Lemburg

Defying Doomsday, (Anthology), edited by Tsana Dolichva and Holly Kench

Josee, the Tiger and the Fish, (short story) (anthology), Seiko Tanabe

Nothing Without Us, edited by Cait Gordon and Talia C. Johnson

Nothing Without Us Too, edited by Cait Gordon and Talia C. Johnson

Unbroken: 13 Stories Starring Disabled Teens, (Anthology), edited by Marieke Nijkamp

Uncanny #24: Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction, (Anthology), edited by: Elsa Sjunneson-Henry, Dominik Parisien et al.

Uncanny #30: Disabled People Destroy Fantasy, (Anthology), edited by: Nicolette Barischoff, Lisa M. Bradley, Katharine Duckett

We Shall Be Monsters, edited by Derek Newman-Stille

Manga:

Perfect World, (Series), Rie Aruga

The Sky is Blue with a Single Cloud, (Short Stories), Kuniko Tsurita

Non-Fiction:

Academic Ableism: Disability and Higher Education, Jay Timothy Dolmage

A Disability History of the United States, Kim E, Nielsen

The Architecture of Disability: Buildings, Cities, and Landscapes beyond Access, David Gissen

Being Seen: One Deafblind Woman's Fight to End Ableism, Elsa Sjunneson

Black Disability Politics, Sami Schalk

Borderline, Narcissistic, and Schizoid Adaptations: The Pursuit of Love, Admiration, and Safety, Dr. Elinor Greenburg

Brilliant Imperfection: Grappling with Cure, Eli Clare

The Cambridge Companion to Literature and Disability, Barker, Clare and Stuart Murray, editors.

The Capacity Contract: Intellectual Disability and the Question of Citizenship, Stacy Clifford Simplican

Capitalism and Disability, Martha Russel

Care work: Dreaming Disability Justice, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Catatonia, Shutdown and Breakdown in Autism: A Psycho-Ecological Approach, Dr Amitta Shah

The Collected Schizophrenias: Essays, Esme Weijun Wang

Crip Kinship, Shayda Kafai

Crip Up the Kitchen: Tools, Tips and Recipes for the Disabled Cook, Jules Sherred

Culture – Theory – Disability: Encounters between Disability Studies and Cultural Studies, Anne Waldschmidt, Hanjo Berressem, Moritz Ingwersen

Decarcerating Disability: Deinstitutionalization and Prison Abolition, Liat Ben-Moshe

Demystifying Disability: What to Know, What to Say, and How to Be an Ally, Emily Ladau

Dirty River: A Queer Femme of Color Dreaming Her Way Home, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Disability Pride: Dispatches from a Post-ADA World, Ben Mattlin

Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories From the Twenty-First Century, Alice Wong

Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability and Making Space, Amanda Leduc

Every Cripple a Superhero, Christoph Keller

Exile and Pride: Disability, Queerness and Liberation, Eli Clare

Feminist Queer Crip, Alison Kafer

The Future Is Disabled: Prophecies, Love Notes, and Mourning Songs, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Growing Up Disabled in Australia, Carly Findlay

It's Just Nerves: Notes on a Disability, Kelly Davio

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Rebecca Skloot

Language Deprivation & Deaf Mental Health, Neil S. Glickman, Wyatte C. Hall

The Minority Body: A Theory of Disability, Elizabeth Barnes

My Body and Other Crumbling Empires: Lessons for Healing in a World That Is Sick, Lyndsey Medford

No Right to Be Idle: The Invention of Disability, 1840s-1930s, Sarah F. Rose

Nothing About Us Without Us: Disability Oppression and Empowerment, James I. Charlton

The Pedagogy of Pathologization Dis/abled Girls of Color in the School-prison Nexus, Subini Ancy Annamma

Physical Disability in British Romantic Literature, Essaka Joshua

QDA: A Queer Disability Anthology, Raymond Luczak, Editor.

The Right to Maim: Debility, Capacity, Disability, Jasbir K. Puar

Sitting Pretty, (memoir), Rebecca Taussig

Sounds Like Home: Growing Up Black & Deaf in the South, Mary Herring Wright

Surviving and Thriving with an Invisible Chronic Illness: How to Stay Sane and Live One Step Ahead of Your Symptoms, Ilana Jacqueline

The Things We Don't Say: An Anthology of Chronic Illness Truths, Julie Morgenlender

Uncanny Bodies: Superhero Comics and Disability, Scott T. Smith, José Alaniz 

Uncomfortable Labels: My Life as a Gay Autistic Trans Woman, (memoir), Laura Kate Dale

Unmasking Autism, Devon Price

The War on Disabled People: Capitalism, Welfare and the Making of a Human Catastrophe, Ellen Clifford

We've Got This: Essays by Disabled Parents, Eliza Hull

Year of the Tiger: An Activist's Life, (memoir) (essays) Alice Wong

Picture Books:

A Day With No Words, Tiffany Hammond, Kate Cosgrove-

A Friend for Henry, Jenn Bailey, Mika Song

Ali and the Sea Stars, Ali Stroker, Gillian Reid

All Are Welcome, Alexandra Penfold, Suzanne Kaufman

All the Way to the Top, Annette Bay Pimentel, Jennifer Keelan-Chaffins, Nabi Ali

Can Bears Ski?, Raymond Antrobus, Polly Dunbar

Different -- A Great Thing to Be!, Heather Alvis, Sarah Mensinga

Everyone Belongs, Heather Alvis, Sarah Mensinga

I Talk Like a River, Jordan Scott, Sydney Smith

Jubilee: The First Therapy Horse and an Olympic Dream, K. T. Johnson, Anabella Ortiz

Just Ask!, Sonia Sotomayor, Rafael López

Kami and the Yaks, Andrea Stenn Stryer, Bert Dodson

My Three Best Friends and Me, Zulay, Cari Best, Vanessa Brantley-Newton

Rescue & Jessica: A Life-Changing Friendship, Jessica Kensky, Patrick Downes, Scott Magoon

Sam's Super Seats, Keah Brown, Sharee Miller

Small Knight and the Anxiety Monster, Manka Kasha

We Move Together, Kelly Fritsch, Anne McGuire, Eduardo Trejos

We're Different, We're the Same, and We're All Wonderful!, Bobbi Jane Kates, Joe Mathieu

What Happened to You?, James Catchpole, Karen George

The World Needs More Purple People, Kristen Bell, Benjamin Hart, Daniel Wiseman

You Are Enough: A Book About Inclusion, Margaret O'Hair, Sofia Sanchez, Sofia Cardoso

You Are Loved: A Book About Families, Margaret O'Hair, Sofia Sanchez, Sofia Cardoso

The You Kind of Kind, Nina West, Hayden Evans

Zoom!, Robert Munsch, Michael Martchenko

Plays:

Peeling, Kate O'Reilly

---

With an extra special thank you to @parafoxicalk @craftybookworms @lunod @galaxyaroace @shub-s @trans-axolotl @suspicious-whumping-egg @ya-world-challenge @fictionalgirlsworld @rubyjewelqueen @some-weird-queer-writer @jacensolodjo @cherry-sys @dralthon @thebibliosphere @brynwrites @aj-grimoire @shade-and-sun @ceanothusspinosus @edhelwen1 @waltzofthewifi @spiderleggedhorse @sleepneverheardofher @highladyluck @oftheides @thecouragetobekind @nopoodles @lupadracolis @elusivemellifluence @creativiteaa @moonflowero1 @the-bi-library @chronically-chaotic-cryptid for your absolutely fantastic contributions!

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Submit a Book:

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #35)

Chapter #35. SURPRISE!!!🎄 🎁 Merry Christmas! 🎁🎄 I couldn't leave us on that big of a cliffhanger! Not on Christmas! Anyway, here is a little holiday gift from me to you. I want to sincerely thank everyone in this community who takes the time to read this story. I am so grateful for each and every one of you! Where is Natalie taking Alexander? Is he going to love it or hate it? It's usually 50/50 with him.

Previous: Chapter #34

Next: Chapter #36

Word Count: 8,756 Read Time: Approx. 90 mins

CW: Physical intimacy. SO much physical intimacy.

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #35: La Petite Aiguille

[Alexander’s POV]

Rows upon rows of bolts of fabric in every color, shade and pattern I could fathom, lined the walls. Custom racks accommodated spools of thread all arranged in the gradient of the rainbow, while tungsten sconces bathed the room in an orange, electric glow. The solid wood beams of the ceiling gave the room an old-fashioned gravitas, while the smell of polished wood and starched linen ignited my olfactory senses. 

Everything was immaculately organized, each thread having its place. 

There was a break in the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the left, where a maroon curtain separated us from whatever lay on the opposite side. 

On display on the tables in front of us and on the counters of the classical oak desk that served as the register, were mannequins sporting all kinds of clothing, from impressive gowns fit for a runway stage, to elaborate, themed costumes, to, yes, even beautifully crafted suits in every cut. 

But the best part? 

Every single article of clothing on display, from the dresses, to the outfits, the hats and shoes, were perfectly proportioned to my dimensions. This entire, wonderful place accommodated people like me. 

I stared, slack jawed, unable to believe this wasn’t some sort of very realistic dream, when I felt Natalie’s gaze on me, “What do you think? This is supposed to be the best place in all of Massachusetts…” She hummed softly, the fingers of her left hand stroking the outside of the pocket, about level with my chest. 

Unable to tear my eyes away, I swallowed, gripping the fabric to keep from showing her any pathetic emotions, “I—“ 

Before I had a chance to complete, or even begin, that thought, the sharp clink of metal rings sliding across a curtain rod hit my ears, as someone crossed the threshold. 

My heart jumped. Another human. What was this one going to be like? 

My hands itched for something to defend myself with. Whether she could feel my body stiffen, or just guessed by instinct, Natalie gently pressed her fingers over my heart, caressing my forearm with her thumb. I looked up to catch her gaze. Her eyes seemed calm, reassuring. I did my level best to relax. 

As the figure crossed behind the main desk, I endeavored to take in all of her details, reading her for any signs, positive or negative. 

Her hair was cut short, tight pin curls looping and twisting in a gravity defying mop of pure white. Her keen, bright eyes shone beyond the rim of her, golden reading glasses, perched low on her nose. Her vintage jewelry, including an elegant gold watch, sparkled in the light of the lamp beside her. Her outfit was clearly custom made, a beautiful matching vest and skirt in warm earth tones, with white dress sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hands were lithe, yet possessed a certain air of intentionality with every move she made. She held a leather bound tome under her arm.

“Apologies for the wait, we’re at the peak of our holiday orders at the moment. How can I help you?” She locked eyes with Natalie, seemingly not noticing me quite yet. Her voice was soft and clear as a bell. She set down her book, cracking it open and scribbled something along its many columns and rows. Natalie stepped up to the counter as she spoke. I leaned forward, enjoying the swooping, artistic motions of her calligraphic script as she wrote in incredibly ornate cursive. 

“Oh, hello, there.” She’d stopped writing. I looked up to find her gaze, dulled with age but not without a keen spark, was fixed on me. 

I clenched my jaw as I hardly dared to breathe… I waited for the condescending comment to come next. She leaned down to address me again, “Sir? What can I do for you today?” A smile played about her lips, but it was far from anything like a sneer. It was warm, friendly. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was waiting for my reply. She was addressing me directly. I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I believe I’m here to purchase a suit.” I raised my voice to cover the distance, trying to sound like I did this sort of thing all the time. 

“More than just one. He’d like to be fitted today, please.” I whipped over my shoulder to look up at Natalie. Was she serious? When I met her eyes, she nodded and winked at me. 

“So you want the full custom package?” The woman looked at me, I looked to Natalie, Natalie nodded in the affirmative. The human across from us checked her wrist, nodding with an exact precision I couldn’t help but admire, “Perfect timing. I believe I can squeeze you in between our other standing consultations. Right this way.” She motioned for us to follow her into the curtained room. 

We entered the back area and were greeted by two tables with ornate lion’s paw legs. The one on the left was piled with fabric, neatly folded, with tools of the trade including rulers, pushpins, scissors and measuring tape. On the right, the surface of the table was bare, save a series of pristine white boxes, each sitting side by side, along its center. I wondered what those were. 

Instead, we curved toward the left. I supposed I’d just have to wait to find out more. 

We came to a stop in front of the table with its neatly organized tools. I was beginning to deeply appreciate the pristine organization of this place. It was far more comforting than Natalie’s rat’s nest approach to every inch of her living space, though I'd managed to train her out of her most egregious lifestyle habits. 

I was torn from my musing when fingers descended all around me, the pad of Natalie’s thumb resting over my chest while two fingers hooked under my arms as she applied light pressure.

I met her eyes to see her arched brow, as she sought permission to pick me up and set me down. With a curt nod from me, she lifted me up and out, placing me on my own two feet in the center of the table. As she fished for my crutch, the other woman approached the table, setting a clipboard and red ink pen down on the surface beside me. 

She adjusted her glasses as she pulled the chain to a lamp behind me, bathing my surroundings in a soft glow. I couldn’t help but notice the way my jaw involuntarily clenched and I held my breath as her arm loomed overhead. 

I realized with a sharp pang the indignity that was about to commence. 

Natalie was finally granting me the opportunity to dress like the gentleman I was, a wonderful thing indeed, but… no tailored suit, big or small, was possible without acquiring that gentleman’s measurements. 

I felt a twist in my stomach, as I pictured being pinched, grabbed, and puppeted about like a doll, as string was cinched too tightly around my arm or leg to quantify the size of limbs. This strange woman’s hands who I’d admired from a distance for their precision and poise, now intimidated me in the lamplight, seeming too aged, bony and frighteningly precise in their movements to be anything but painful when they seized me. 

The liver spots that dotted her arm, the thin and almost papery nature of her skin that displayed the blue veins snaking beneath and the pronounced knuckles on her arthritic, littlest fingers all reminded me of a particular set of hands I’d fought very hard to forget. 

“… Alexander?” The present circumstance came back into crystal clear focus at the sound of my name from Natalie’s lips. I blinked hard and looked up at where the sound had come from. Her finger and thumb held my crutch between them, as she bent at the waist to address me, her brow slightly furrowed with worry, she gently brushed my arm with the side of her curled fingers, nudging me back into reality, “… Here you go.” She offered me my walking aide, and I cleared my throat, taking it from her while staring at the floor. 

“Ah, is that your name? I don’t think we got properly introduced.” This time it was that voice that tinkled like a bell in my ears. I’d admit, it had a pleasant ring, despite my trepidations, “Hello, Alexander, I’m Marianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered a finger to shake. I admit, I was taken aback. Why was she so courteous? She was smiling at me. 

It put me on edge. 

When was she going to burst into laughter? Was it when I gave in to her invitation to shake, like equals, only for her to pull her hand away? Or would it be the moment I turned over my shoulder where she’d take the opportunity to snatch me up by the collar? I refused to believe this wasn’t an act. 

She was still offering her finger. 

I was taking too long, if I waited much more I’d be questioned. 

I took a few steps forward and stiffly shook the pad of her finger with my hand. Immediately retreating the few steps back when it was over. Good. No funny business. Not yet. I decided as long as she continued this charade of being polite, I’d do the same. An eye for an eye and all that. 

“Well, we’re delighted to have you here. And what’s your name, young lady?” Natalie introduced herself and shook hands with the older woman with a warmth I found reassuring. “Welcome to La Petite Aiguille.” I suppose she thought that name was terribly clever. How gouche. Of course, she probably assumed I couldn’t understand French, which would be a false assumption.

 I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as she addressed us again, “May I interest either of you in any refreshments?” She had my attention, now, as she acquainted us with our options. I ordered herbal tea, Natalie chose coffee. The woman, Marianne, excused herself to prepare them both. 

After the clack of the woman’s shoes on the hardwood faded, Natalie leaned down, resting her chin on her forearm, setting down her free hand close to where I stood, “So? Whaddya think?” Her eyes gleamed. Always so excitable, wasn’t she? 

“It…” I felt heat rise in my face. I mustn’t come across like some giddy child let loose in a toy store, “It seems like a professional and respectable establishment.” 

Her face fell, she was clearly hoping for more enthusiasm from me, but I was far too embarrassed to show her just how excited I was. Before she could form a response, Marianne returned with a tray, including a steaming mug of coffee I could’ve taken a dip in if I so chose, as well as a teapot, mug and saucer balanced on an embossed tray, all sized to me. But that was not all. In hand, she also clutched a proportional end table and chair which she gingerly placed beside me. I served myself the tea as she continued.

“As you can see we specialize in custom clothing for those of nimbler proportions than our own.” Nimbler, eh? I quite liked that. “So what’re we getting outfitted for today? A holiday party? Gala? Wedding?” Me? At a human wedding? I nearly spit a mouthful of tea back into the cup. 

“No, nothing like that.” Natalie swooped in to save the conversation, “He just likes to be sharply dressed. Personally, I love lounging at home in sweats and a t-shirt but this one wants cufflinks and starched collars.” Her index finger brushed the toe of my shoe, “He’s suffered for way too long in casual clothes. Now that he’s more healed up, he deserves to dress to the nines every day if he wants to.” She winked at me. My heart knocked at my ribs. Stupid, impressionable, laughable idiot! Just drink your tea and stop with the flushed face already! I swallowed everything in the cup in one go. 

“A true mondain, I see. Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Let’s see what we can do.” What was this woman’s deal with sprinkling French into every other sentence? Was she trying to show off? She grabbed her pen and started to jot things down on the form before her. 

I poured myself another cup of tea, and directed my words to the ceramic vessel, “Vous pensez que vous êtes si intelligent, n'est-ce pas? Je peux aussi parler français, tu sais.” The woman, I supposed I could start thinking of her by her name, Marianne, never paused in her writing. The line came and went without her understanding. I pursed my lips and couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed my face. It seemed she didn’t know the language nearly as well as she’d put on. I continued to revel in my superiority, until I heard the human to my right clearing her throat theatrically. 

I looked up to see Natalie’s eyebrows raised as she scowled at me disapprovingly. “Be nice!” She mouthed. I opened my hands and shrugged as if to say “What?”. She didn’t get a chance to retaliate, however, as Marianne raised her eyes from the page and addressed us. 

“Now, first thing’s first, we’ll need your measurements.” Damn. I came down from my temporary high and felt my heart in my throat again. 

Evidently I wasn’t as skilled at masking my feelings on the matter as I’d thought, because she reassured me while preparing her tools, “Not to worry, Alexander, there will be no rough treatment here. I’ll be as gentle with you as Natalie would.” I snuck a glance up at the woman she’d mentioned, only to find, much to my embarrassment, that she was already looking me over. 

We both instantly turned our attention back to our drinks.

Marianne carried on unperturbed. I was beginning to wonder if this woman was one of the least observant people on the planet, or if she was just exceedingly polite. She scribbled things on her paper, before organizing her rulers and measuring tapes before her. She addressed me as she prepped, “So, you’re fond of gentleman’s wear, hm? Not many young men care about keeping up appearances anymore. I’m glad you’re an exception to the rule. My Henri was fond of his pinstripes and pocket squares. A perfect pairing for a seamstress, you can imagine!” Her eyes sparkled with memories long past. 

“I… I’m sorry for your loss…”  Natalie’s voice was kind and genuine. 

“Oh, that’s alright, honey. We had many wonderful years together.” She turned to me, “I think he would’ve quite liked you, Alexander.” 

Me? I couldn’t imagine how much I and an older human man could possibly have in common, besides our manner of dress. And in any case, this woman had only just met me, how could she possibly make such a rapid assessment?

I nodded politely in agreement anyway, hoping to move past this rather somber moment and return to the exciting part of getting me into a beautiful suit. 

Of course, Natalie couldn’t help but ask follow up questions. Annoying, the way humans always politely placated each other with niceties and small talk, “Did he help you run this place?” 

Marianne cracked a smile, “Oh, yes! The whole thing was his idea. Down to the name. I was perfectly happy to stitch away on my little creations at home, but he encouraged me to share my skills with others. He was always the gregarious one…” you don’t seem to have any problem talking at length, as far as I can see. “… and much better at putting our clients at ease, though, I try my very best. I know the constant invasion of personal space can be unwelcome.” 

Finally someone acknowledges this well-known truth! 

“Now, Mr. Alexander, if you’ll take a few steps forward, I’ll get your height to start.”

The flattery of being addressed so formally was quickly counteracted by an unwelcome reality that the aforementioned invasion of personal space was about to begin. 

I looked about myself to set down the cup in my hand. The side table was just out of reach from where I stood. I shifted my weight, about to turn over my shoulder to cross closer to the surface when a finger brushed the length of my forearm, warm and soft. I stopped in my tracks and looked up. 

Natalie was offering to take the cup from me. Her lips curled into a soft smile as my gaze locked with hers, “Don’t worry, I won’t accidentally drop this one. I promise.” She winked. 

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, and shake my head before balancing the cup on the pad of her index finger. She pinched it between finger and thumb and carried it to its proper place for me. 

***** 

As Alexander stepped forward, away from the tiny furniture, the experienced hands of the craftswoman carefully slid a polished wooden ruler behind his back. I found myself balancing my chin over my crossed arms to get a closer look at what the measurement tool showed. 

He stood very still, his posture perfect, and his chest puffed. I could tell he was stretching his spine to stand as tall as he possibly could. As I squinted to discern the tiny lines that Alexander could easily trace with his fingers, I saw his exact height for the first time. 

Five and half inches, exactly. 

My heart melted. 

As the ruler was removed, I searched his face for signs of unease. I wouldn’t blame him for being nervous. He was already grumpy enough being handled by me, I knew having a stranger’s hands all over him wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park. 

“You okay?” I mouthed, unable to resist brushing the toe of his shoe with a fingertip. He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. I could see he was steeling himself. 

I trusted Marianne, she seemed extremely kind and respectful. Still, her fingers, though aged and thin, were each over half the length of his entire little body. 

She prepared a length of bright crimson thread, tying it off in a knot in one graceful pull. 

“First, I’ll ask you to let your arms rest at your sides…” he shuffled his weight, unsure what to do with the crutch in his hand. 

“You okay to stand without it for a few? I can hold it for you.” I offered. He nodded, clearly disinterested in needing any help, but having no choice. 

“…And then I’m going to measure the width of your shoulders, will you turn to face Natalie?” I liked that she walked him through every single step she was taking. I could see he was starting to relax a bit as he shuffled his feet to face me. Marianne used the bit of string to measure along his shoulder blades, from point to point. The scribble of her pen on paper and the hum of the heater somewhere behind us, were the only sounds in the room. 

Until…

Thunk, thunk, thunk. 

I think I jumped more than he did. Someone was knocking on what I assumed must’ve been the back door of the shop. 

Marianne had a different reaction, “Oh!” She dropped the thread and checked her watch, “They’re early! I apologize, someone is here to drop off a bulk order. You’ll have to excuse me. This is the trouble of running things all by myself!” She looked flustered and embarrassed for having to pause, “I should only be a minute!” 

She stepped through the curtain and after a few moments I could hear the sounds of a door opening and the low rumble of male voices mixing with hers. The activity faded into the background as I took in the little life before me. 

“You wanna sit down? Rest your leg?” 

“I’m fine, thank you.” I wasn’t convinced but it didn’t seem worth it to argue over. I found myself reaching for the bit of string that had served as his measuring tape. Threading it in and out from between my fingers. 

That’s when we heard Marianne’s voice cut through, far more flustered than we’d heard before, “No! No, this is all wrong. You have half of my satin and georgette mixed in with someone else’s bolts of polyester! How difficult is it to keep your orders straight?” I could hear the clack of her shoes on hardwood growing louder as she suddenly thrust aside the curtain, “I’m so sorry for this little hiccup. I’ll just be a bit longer… Oh—“  

Her eyes cast down to the crimson thread pinched between my finger and thumb. “Were you measuring him yourself?” 

Alexander and I both exchanged flustered glances before I tried my best to respond, “Well, I—“ 

I heard the low voices of men and the shuffling of heavy feet beyond the curtain. As Marianne checked over her shoulder, her eyes widened, “Be careful with that! You almost knocked it over!” Her head of curly white hair, popped back in to address us, “No, no. Please. Go ahead! It’ll save us time! You’ll have to excuse me!” She gestured at the thread between my fingers before dashing off, footsteps fading even as I could hear her shout in exasperation about some other mishap those workers were creating in her shop. 

And suddenly it was just he and I. 

He cleared his throat, pulling at his collar. 

“So…” I finally mumbled, breaking the silence. His blue eyes met mine when I spoke. My face felt warm. 

“So.” He shifted his weight, his face splashed with pink, while he craned his neck to stare up at me. 

“I guess, I’m gonna— I mean, if you’re okay with… me??”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, nodding his head, while his blonde bangs hung in his eyes, “Right, no. I mean. We must… Musn’t we? For the sake of-of the time. Like she said.” 

“Yeah. Totally. Uh. Okay. So…” I twirled the piece of thread around my finger, while I glanced at the sheet of paper, “It looks like I’m supposed to measure your chest next…” My hands inched toward him. I could feel my pulse in the tip of every finger, I had to concentrate to keep them steady. Alexander watched my encroaching hands like a hawk, his spine stiff, his lips taught.

“Wait!” He threw up his own little palm. I stopped, confused. His brow furrowed as he addressed me, “You’re practically towering over me, standing like that. Do you know how exhausting it is to practically break my neck just to be able to address you? Go find a chair.” I raised my brows, he rolled his eyes, “Please.” 

I pulled it up before the table and sat down, “There, better?” I was so much closer to eye level with him now, and yet, he still seemed so far away, standing in the shadow I cast. 

He won’t seem so far once I’m physically touching him. I felt a thrill rush through me at the thought. 

I took the knotted end and gently held it against his sternum. He rocked back on his heel from the pressure, nevertheless. His little heart was pounding against his ribs. I melted again. 

After a moment, “Ahem, Natalie?” I was frozen in place, just mesmerized by the thrumming of life beneath my fingers.

“Right, right! Sorry!” I shook my head. “Okay hold that for me, please…” his lithe little fingers took over for my gigantic one, as I wrapped the string around his chest and arms. I pinched the string where it met the knotted end and pulled it away from his body. Finally, I laid it flat to the tape measure before jotting down the number. We proceeded to do this with the length of his arms, the circumference of his tiny little wrists, even his neck, which I tried to be painstakingly delicate with. 

With his chin thrust in the air, I could feel him gazing up at me as he held the knot against the hollow of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak and I bit the inside of my lip, worried he might snap at me out of discomfort, but instead he spoke so softly it was almost too quiet to hear, “You’re not too bad at this, Ms. Marquez…” 

As he spoke, I could feel the tiny vibrations in his neck as I very delicately brought the string around. What a mesmerizing feeling. I swelled with pride, “Oh really? Approval from the Little Nightmare? Not a single criticism yet? It’s my lucky day. What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head… it’s big enough as it is!” 

“Hey! Rude!” I released the string, pretending to be offended. To my delight, his little face broke out into that lovely crooked smile I adored so much. 

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t ya?” 

“As I ought to be! It was a shining example of my cracking wit, and you ought to be more impressed.” 

“You ready for the next part, Mr. Chuckles?” 

“Oh! Come on!” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “That was terrible. Was that the best you could come up with? I’ll take Xandy over that, any day!” 

“What’s that? I can call you Xandy now??” 

“No!!! No that’s not what I said! Don’t you dare– Hey! What’re you doing?!”

**********

As I spoke, her fingers and thumbs rushed up from behind and landed on either side of my waist. The warmth was intoxicating, her grip all encompassing, and intimate. My face flushed with color and heat. 

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s the next thing on the list!” She was defensive. I twisted and squirmed feeling the tension in the thread as it rested at the small of my back. 

She had to be playing coy with me! Couldn’t she see how flustered she was making me? It’d been hard enough to keep my composure when she rested her fingertip over my heart, or gently guided my arms where she wanted them, or leaned down so close while she regarded me with such care and gentleness that her fingertips left electrical pulses where they brushed against my skin. But now this? 

I was finding it hard to breathe. 

“You could at least warn a man before you trap him in your colossal grip! Have you learned nothing?” 

“I’m not– Look, we don’t have to do this. Especially if you’re gonna get all pissy about it.” She looked crestfallen. That soft warmth dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared when she pulled her hands away, the thread dragging limply along the table’s surface, pinched between her finger and thumb. 

No, no, no! This isn’t what I wanted at all. Couldn’t she see I was addicted to it now? That warmth, that soft touch? This was all her fault.  

“Wait!” I stepped forward, snatching up the opposite end of the thread before it snaked away from my reach. She looked at me with curiosity, waiting to see what I’d do next, “If you’re going to hold me by the waist, have the courtesy to let me participate.”  Her golden green irises dilated as her mouth parted slightly. I had her complete attention. 

A tremor ran down the nape of my neck to the curve of my lumbar as I pulled the string toward me. She let this tension in the thread move her hand forward with no resistance. My heart skipped a beat. She was letting me control her.

I guided her fingertips to the soft flesh just above my hipbone, where my obliques flared and rippled as I fought to keep my composure. I transferred the thread to my right hand and fed it behind my back, allowing the tension to hold my weight as I leaned back, feeding it around to my right side. I could count each and every quaking beat of my heart as I held the crimson thread in my fist, offering it to her. She slid the tip of her index along the inside of my forearm, making me suck in a sharp breath, before uncurling my fist and taking the string from me. 

“Now what?” she whispered, two pairs of a finger and thumb resting on either side of my body, waiting for my instruction. 

I’d never felt so big in all my life. 

I guided one set of fingers to rest on my navel.  Could she feel how my breath shook when she touched me? 

I grounded myself and brought the other side to meet, letting the string cross itself at the proper place. She pinched the spot with her thumbnail and slowly, gently, retreated to measure and write down her findings. 

“Okay, now hips,” She held the length of string in front of me, waiting to be guided once more. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from beaming. 

I performed the same little ritual with her, and this time her fingertips landed over a much more intimate part of myself. I flushed bright, hissing between clenched teeth, “Careful!”

I expected her to scoff at me, but the eyes that met my upward gaze were soft, “I’m only going where you put me. You’re in control.” 

I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly my legs buckled and gave way beneath me. She was quick to act, wrapping a finger around my hips and pinning me between finger and thumb. 

Dear god, what was she doing to me?!

Before I could take another breath, the clattering of human footsteps and the scrape of metal met my ears and made me jump. 

Marianne’s voice cut through our built up tension like a razorblade, as she seemed completely unaware of our situation, “Okay! So sorry about that, you two!” Natalie quickly let go, as I rushed to tidy myself and readjust my crooked clothing. The seamstress rounded the corner of the table and entered my periphery, glancing over the measurement sheet “Looks like you got the vast majority completed. That’s perfect, we’ve got a great place to start.” She clapped her hands with a sharp crack, a smile warming her aged features as she leaned down to address me, “Now, Mister Alexander. What’re we in the market for?” 

My head spun as I tried to engage my brain, lips and tongue again, “W-what am I—? Uh, um…” It was a truly foreign sensation for words to elude me. I shook my head trying to clear my mind, “A, uh, A classical cut is always best, single breasted, three piece, wool, tweed or cotton, with a notch lapel and double vent.” The words flowed with an easy familiarity, and I found it easier to breathe for the first time since she had left Natalie and I to our own devices. 

“You were right,” She addressed the woman before me, “He really knows his stuff!” Natalie nodded vigorously and smiled, as if to say “You have no idea”. 

“Ah— And no pinstripes. I hate pinstripes.” I added in haste. 

“Duly noted! I think I have quite a few pieces you’ll be interested in.” She gathered the paper with my measurements, Natalaie’s chicken scratch contrasting sharply with the older woman’s elegant script. As she crossed the room, opening a cabinet and searching for something, she spoke over her shoulder, “Please, feel free to come to this other table here…” She gestured to the table with those mysterious boxes on them. 

Natalie and I exchanged a glance, before she slid her palm beside me, hooking her thumb beneath my left arm. She gathered me in her hand, her other fingers supporting my weight before she lifted me off the table. 

She crossed with me to the opposite side, her free thumb gently stroking my cheek. It wasn’t all that long ago I would’ve recoiled at such a caress. Now I melted beneath it. 

What has gotten into me?? 

Soon, I was being lowered to my feet, before one of those mystery boxes. I could see now that the front was obscured by a curtain. 

“Go ahead,” Marianne had just placed a polished wooden case of some kind on the table just to my right, as she seemed to register my curiosity. I took a step forward, only to feel a warmth and pressure on my shoulder. I turned to see Natalie offering me my crutch, balanced on a fingertip. I acquiesced and took it, before thrusting the curtain aside. 

I’m not sure what I’d expected but it wasn’t this. 

Beyond the veil of the fabric, and just a small step up, was what I imagined a dressing room to look like. I’d never been in one myself, human-sized or otherwise, but it fit my expectations and then exceeded them. On the wall opposite me was a full length mirror, held in a gilded, golden frame. A beautiful Persian rug softened the faux wooden floor. There were hooks along the wall to hang clothing, as well as a vanity complete with a mirror and chair. Along the walls were framed prints of famous art pieces. I admit, the Lady with an Ermine was the only one I recognized. Everything felt… authentic. Real. Human. Is this what rooms looked like to them all the time? There was a wide variety of plants that looked… were they real? Not just plastic bastardizations of the typical human houseplant? 

I stepped into the ‘room’ and as I marveled, heard a breathy “Wow, fancy…”  from up high. I craned my neck to find that this room, for all its proportional realism, lacked a ceiling, and, therefore, Nat was easily able to peer down, her arms crossed, and smile at me from above. 

But there was one area in the corner, also sectioned off by a curtain, which, when I peered into it, I realized was actually fully enclosed, complete with an electric wall sconce to brighten the space. 

Oh. What a relief. I wouldn’t have to change in front of these two women. I never expected humans to think of these things. This was a nice surprise. 

“Is it suitable to your tastes?” Marianne appeared beyond the edge of the far wall, “My Henri designed every detail. We had such fun putting them together. Oh speaking of… try these on for size…” 

A wrinkled finger and thumb descended into the space, shattering the illusion that I was in anything other than a highly detailed doll house. Pinched between her digits, was a suit jacket, vest, and matching slacks, each hanging on their own seemingly custom wooden hangers. She carefully placed each of these on one of the wall hooks. Her hand disappeared and then returned with another set and another and another. 

I admit, I felt my heart race at just the sight of them. I’d missed the familiar fit of a suit so very much. My grip on the walking aide was becoming clammy as I absentmindedly bounced on the ball of my good foot in anticipation. 

She also laid down a folded under shirt on the vanity (the folds were crisp and tidy. Impressive for fingers that big) and several different collared shirts on the remaining hangers. 

“I’ll work on ties, belts and shoes while you start with these. How’s that sound?” I nodded in agreement, already making a beeline for the undershirt, a white collared dress shirt and the first vest and pair of slacks on the rack before she’d finished speaking. 

I was just about to disappear into the changing room when a finger on my shoulder stopped me. 

My mouth twisted into an instinctive grimace as Natalie halted me. What?? What did she want?? I was moments away from shedding this baggy loungewear for something sophisticated and elegant. What could possibly be so important that she needed to interrupt me at this very moment? 

I turned to face her, only to realize precisely what. Offered up between her fingers was that pair of tweezers. The same ones I’d used to help myself change since I’d blessedly escaped that god awful tie dye shirt. She’d brought them from home for me. 

“Just in case,” she winked at me. Oh. Now, I felt like an ass. 

I breathed out from my nostrils, releasing the tension in my shoulders, “Thank you.” I even briefly patted the side of her finger as a show of appreciation as I took the object from her. I figured she’d like that, what with her love of touching me all the time.

The sudden thought of her touch and heat and softness completely overwhelming me just moments ago on that other table top made my face flush with shame. 

I hurried inside the changing room, where, luckily, no one could see my changed complexion. 

********** 

I drummed my fingers on the table, just dying for him to throw that tiny curtain aside and reveal himself. Marianne flitted about the room, opening drawers, cabinets and boxes, finding just what she was looking for, all while peering over the rim of her glasses with the keen eye of a master at work. 

Soon she had a lineup of tiny accessories displayed on the vanity table for him to peruse. 

I caught her gaze and mouthed “Thank you”, she nodded warmly and winked, before catching something out of the corner of her eye and gesturing for me to look too. 

That little curtain fluttered with movement, and before I knew it, there emerged one tiny socked foot, then another, with a metal and rubber crutch complimenting their rise and fall. 

Then, my heart skipped.

Hello there, Alexander. 

He looked absolutely incredible, and he wasn’t even fully dressed yet. The slacks sported a flattering pleat down the length of his leg, settling perfectly about his waist. The vest fit beautifully, cinched slightly in the back, the white dress shirt contrasted nicely and the sleeves fit him just right. 

I immediately dropped my chin to the surface of the table to get a closer look. 

He emerged with his head ducked as he gracefully threaded the final button on the vest, the royal blue wool lacing through his lithe little fingers. 

Suddenly, two icy blue irises like crystals of frozen flame were trained on me and I had to bite my lip to keep from embarrassing myself. The blue of the suit made his eyes shine even more brightly than before. 

“It looks like a perfect fit. How does it feel?” He craned his neck to listen to the voice looming above him. He adjusted his shoulders, made sure the vest was perfectly centered, and he toyed with his shirt sleeves until they were just right, before he turned to the full length mirror. 

With my head balanced on my hand, I could just make out a sliver of my face reflected in the tiny mirror over his shoulder. 

Seeing his entire body against the backdrop of one small part of mine reminded me of that first day, when I’d forced him into that ugly little doll shirt and held him up to my bathroom vanity admiring our size difference. That truly felt like a lifetime ago.

Marianne passed him a silky rust colored tie, and I watched with flustered amazement how his fingers expertly worked the flimsy material into a pinprick of a complicated knot, even and perfect. I felt like I was glimpsing into a whole other world of his, a past I only faintly understood. 

With each infinitesimal adjustment of his collar, sweep of his hair, and threading of his tie beneath his vest, I felt myself staring slack jawed at this new version of the little man I thought I’d known so well. 

Now for the jacket. She handed it to him, and he spread the lapels to admire the inner lining (a gorgeous, patterned silk with flowers of purple and blue) when his eyes stopped at something sewn into the collar just as the nape of the neck. 

***** 

I stared at the inside of the jacket, almost in disbelief. 

Sewn with expert precision, were a handful of stitches that unmistakably spelled out “For My Henri”. 

I was flabbergasted. 

Marianne had said he was the love of her life, that they’d built this business together, that he’d encouraged her to use her talents to help others, and this man had been… like me? 

“I-I can’t possibly accept this…” I shook my head, thrusting the beautifully crafted garment away from my body and offering it back up to this kind hearted woman who peered down at me. 

She simply smiled, “Just try it on, at least.” 

She couldn’t be serious. But it would be nice just to try it on for size. She could use it as a reference. I was determined to refuse her offer if she brought it up again, but I saw no harm in at least donning the final piece of the suit, just to see it all together. 

I took a deep breath and easily twirled the garmet over my shoulder, sliding my arms along the silken lining and letting it fall around my body, gazing into the mirror once more. 

Oh, hello there, Alexander. It’s good to see you again, old friend. How I’ve missed you. 

It was beyond perfect. It was the most beautifully crafted suit I’d ever had the pleasure to wear. I looked wonderfully smart. My chest swelled as a small smirk creeped onto my features, threatening to boil over into a boyish grin if I wasn’t careful. 

I refocused the lenses of my eyes to take in Natalie’s gaze, dominating the landscape behind me. Her pupils were dilated, her expression dreamy. I turned to face her, leaving my crutch behind for now. 

I thrust a hand in a pocket, unbuttoning the jacket to show the vest underneath and spun on my heel, feeling altogether like a million bucks. 

“You look… incredible” She practically breathed. The way her eyes shone when she gazed at me… Why did my knees suddenly feel weak at hearing her sigh at me like that? Perhaps I needed my crutch after all. 

“She’s right, you know. It suits you. I suppose I can’t convince you to try on the rest of them can I?” The older woman issued me this challenge with a twinkle in her eye.

Natalie furrowed her brow and cocked her head. As if to say “What could possibly be the problem with that?” 

Of course. She didn’t understand what Marianne and I already did. 

I slid off the jacket and held up its stitching to her. She leaned in so close I could feel the heat of her exhale as she finally managed to squint enough to read the name sewn there.

“Oh, oh my god. So…your… he was…?” Natalie stuttered. 

Marianne nodded, a smile sparkling with decades of memory igniting in her eyes. Eventually, she busied herself with handing me the next suit, this one a beautiful gray, continuing to address Natalie, “He was the best thing to ever come into my life. We found each other when I spent a summer in Paris, a whole lifetime ago. I couldn’t bear to return home without him. Luckily, he agreed to travel halfway across the world to be by my side. It took us a while to come to terms with our feelings, believe me, most people couldn’t possibly understand… especially not in those days. I hope you two don’t let your fear get in the way.” 

My face burned and my mouth felt so dry, my voice cracked as I spoke, “Oh, no, we’re not… we-we—“

Suddenly Natalie’s louder voice tumbled atop mine, cutting me off, as she spoke through a strained smile, “Thank you.” 

I sensed that I’d committed some sort of social faux pas, though I couldn’t understand what. Natalie and I weren’t… that is to say we didn’t have that sort of dynamic. Despite this, I decided to bite my tongue out of a desire to spare Natalie any unnecessary embarrassment. Judging by her bright pink complexion, she was already suffering enough from my attempt to set the record straight. 

I put that interaction out of my mind, though, as I returned to the garments in my hands. I admit, I allowed myself the small pleasure of trying all four of Henri’s suits, each one as beautifully crafted as the last and still in such incredible condition for their age. 

I tried on various loafers, belts, ties and even, to my utter delight, tie clips and cufflinks! 

As a boy coming of age, I’d been repeatedly reprimanded after asking for cufflinks to match my larger counterpart, being told they’d be “much too small to be worth any effort to make them in the first place”. 

Once I’d enjoyed everything those suits had to offer, she asked me to describe what I’d like to have custom made, letting me touch various fabric swatches and color options to help me make my decisions. 

This was all a dream, right? Some sort of beautiful, wonderful dream that I never wanted to wake from? It had to be. Well, if it was all make believe, I supposed asking for what I really wanted wouldn’t hurt any. 

She took notes as Natalie watched on. Why was it every time I turned over my shoulder, she seemed to be looking at me? 

I sat in the chair, pulled beside the vanity, palming the perfectly proportionate cufflinks, and rolling them between finger and thumb. They were so detailed and well crafted I wondered if Henri had made them himself. 

What is wrong with me? These things aren’t mine to take. No matter how wonderful they were. 

I deposited the little metal pieces on the counter beside me, folding my hands in my lap, determined not to fidget anymore. 

As if reading my mind, Marianne travelled around to the side of the table to face me. 

“Well, you’ve been quite the model today.” I nodded in agreement, “I think we’ve put you through more than enough. Now, your custom orders will be shipped to you in approximately ten to twelve weeks. If you need any alterations at all, feel free to come back to the store.” 

What a lovely dream this was. 

She continued, gesturing to those beautiful suits hung along the dressing room the wall, “Which one was your favorite?”

“Oh, well… I couldn’t possibly— they’re all equally wonderful. You possess incredible skill…” 

“I want you to have them.” 

Both Natalie and I let out an incredulous exclamation, in sync with one another: 

“No, no you’re being far too kind—” 

“We couldn’t take them, they belong with you!” 

She shook her head smiling warmly first at Natalie, then to me, “He would’ve wanted them to go to a fine young gentleman who can appreciate every stitch, rather than gathering dust in some box. I’d be honored if you’d take them. Think of it as Christmas coming early!” 

I was completely taken aback, a rush of emotion making my chest swell and my throat tighten as my vision suddenly blurred, “I— I’m at a complete loss for words… T-thank you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Alexander. Thank you for coming to visit today.” She leaned down to offer me her finger to shake. With a trembling hand, and biting back tears, I shook her finger tip, squeezing it much harder than was called for, and yet I didn’t imagine it was enough to hurt her, “I’m delighted you like them so much. Why don’t you wear the blue one home? It was always my favorite. Now I’ll finish packing the rest and will wait for you to check out in the other room.” 

And suddenly, it was just the girl with the wild hair and warm eyes, and me. She caught my gaze, a smile playing on her lips “Surprise!” She chuckled. 

The swell of deep gratitude, delight, overwhelm and pure joy flooded through me once again and I was perilous to keep it at bay. I rushed forward, my leg aching from the effort, as I crashed into her hand, squeezing myself into the hollow of her palm, as I clutched the base of her thumb and wept, mumbling my thanks between tears of joy. 

“Oh, Alexander…” she breathed, gently enclosing her fingers around me, embracing me back. Her index finger on her free hand gently caressed my hair, neck and shoulders as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how hard I tried. She held my chin with her fingertip, wiping tears with her thumb, “I’m so happy you’re happy. You deserve this. I’m sorry it took so long… but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” She beamed at me. I bit back more tears. She arched her brow and jutted her chin in that mischievous way she always did, “Now pull yourself together and go be all dapper and shit.” She nudged my arm with her thumb. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. 

Before long, I found myself perched on the countertop of Marianne’s desk in the front of the shop, dressed to the nines from head to foot. I wore the blue suit, of course, with brown leather shoes, and belt, a silken ochre tie with matching pocket square, cufflinks, and a tie clip. I stood tall as the women above me exchanged money for goods. 

I felt a lightness in my body and mind that I hadn’t felt in… well, had I ever felt it? I couldn’t be sure. I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning ear to ear like some stupid little boy. I’d never been spoiled like this. I’d never been treated like this. I had no idea what to do with myself. 

As we were about to leave, Marianne turned to me, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed at me over the rim of her glasses, giving me a clear view of her keen eyes. “Alexander? N'ayez pas peur de lui dire ce que vous ressentez. Il est clair qu'elle t'aime de tout son cœur. Vous méritez le bonheur autant que nous tous.” 

******* 

I had no clue what she’d said to him, but whatever it was, he looked like he’d been shot through with an arrow, after hearing it. His little eyes went wide and his face burned bright red. 

“Hey…” I rubbed his little shoulder, and he seemed to snap out of it. I smiled apologetically at the woman on the other side of the desk, “Sorry, I think he’s just really excited and overwhelmed about everything that happened. Thank you again, for all you did for him.” As I spoke to her, I coaxed the little man into my hand, his movements suddenly sluggish and distracted. 

“It was truly such a wonderful thing to meet a pair like you. You give me hope for a better future. Thank you for coming in today. You’re always welcome back at any time.” 

��Thank you so much, Marianne!” I echoed her warmth. When Alexander stayed silent, I nudged him a little with my thumb and he seemed to come to. 

“Y-yes! Thank you. V-very much!”

What had gotten into him? Maybe the thrill of the whole thing had worn off and he was just exhausted. Because of his dogged determination to push himself to the limits all the time, it was easy to forget how much more effort it took someone of his size to just interact with people so much bigger than him. He was also standing and walking on his injured leg without his crutch for much longer than normal. I wondered if he was in pain and trying to fight through it. 

Whatever the case, I was looking forward to getting him home with me, and giving him a chance to relax. 

I took in the wonderful sight of him lounging in my palm, his head resting on the pad of my index finger, his calves and ankles hanging off the far edge of my palm, his little hands spread against my skin, keeping himself steady. He stared at his tiny leather shoes, and seemed disinterested in looking in my direction. How funny he was. I wondered what on earth was on his brilliant little mind. 

Strange little nightmare, let’s get you home.

___________________________________________

Tag List

@littlescaryinternetguy @lucentbliss @jae-from-discord @kitn-underfoot @secretly-small

@writing-forever @iinogongju @itsgothgirlthyme @make-me-giant @reborrowing

@patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @themarlo @cup-o-chai @raccoontoaster

@tolsizedlove @thegodmother007 @honey-olive @bittykimmy13 @aceouttatime

@liminaldaze @joxter-coded @rosella35 @narrans @rubeau-art

@whatthisfemsheplikes @soapysoap69 @tinystrawberryshifter @thetinylittlespider @gatlily @certainwizardlady @theo-l-ogeneus @windshield-patent @vivianuales @might-be-tiny-gt

@certainwizardguy @closetedgtaccount

[honeydais]

Hey friends! I returned a month later and brought for you a list of songs with which I associate the characters.

And with it you can determine my favorite characters :)

Jeff Woods ( Jeff the killer)— Psychosocial (Slipknot)

Americano ( Lady Gaga)

Lights out ( MSI )

Enemy ( Imagine dragons)

Liu Woods - Hayloft II (Mother Mother);

GOSSIP ( Måneskin )

Replay ( Lady Gaga )

Two birds (Regina Spector)

Lira Rogers - Looking at me ( Sabrina Carpenter )

Jane Richardson ( Jane the killer )- Telephone (Lady Gaga)

Bloody Mary ( Lady Gaga)

Bad girls ( M. I. A. )

She wants me dead ( Cazzette i AronChupa )

Jane Arkensaw - Genesis (Grimes)

The mess you made ( AJA )

Nina Hopkins ( Nina the killer ) - Mamma Mia (HUGEL)

Vicious ( Bohnes )

Criminal ( Britney Spears )

Take your shirt off ( Millionaires )

Toxic ( Britney Spears)

Nina Hopkins(new) - Toy ( Netta Barzilai )

Slumber party ( Ashnikko )

Troublemaker ( Olly Murs )

Jack Nairas ( Eyeless Jack)- HURT ( 1 800 PAIN )

Ate my heart (Lady Gaga)

Valentino ( Olly Alexander )

Devil town ( Cavetown ) 

Mama ( My Chemical Romance)

Benjamin Lauman ( Ben drowned )- That That ( PSY )

Don't try sucide ( QUEEN ) 

Tobias Rogers ( Ticci Toby )- My alcoholic friends ( The Dresden Dolls )

Teenagers (My Chemical Romance)

Mama's boy (Dominic Fike)

Blow ( Kesha )

Natalie Ouellet ( Clockwork )- People I don't like (Upsahl)

NO ( Meghan Trainor )

Haunted house ( neoni )

Seventeen ( Marina and the diamonds) 

Tim Wright - GRRRLS (Aviva)

Older ( Isabel Larosa )

House of memories ( Panic! at the disco)

Brian Thomas - Guys don't like me ( It Boys )

Don't trust me ( 3OH!3 )

Kate Millens (Haze) - She homeless (Creep - P)

Helen Otis ( Bloody painter)- dump dump (mazie)

yes & no ( Paige Duddy )

She likes a boy ( Nxdia )

Dina Angela Clark ( Judge Angel )- Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land ( Marina )

Mary on a cross ( Ghost)

Bloody Mary ( Lady Gaga)

Jonathan Blake ( The Puppeteer)- Drunk-Dazed ( ENHYPEN )

Lost in the fire ( Gesaffelstein )

Look what you made me do (Taylor Swift)

EYES ON ME ( asteria)

Ann Luzen Mia ( Nurse Ann ) - Take a hint (Elizabeth Gillies and Victoria Justice)

Sweet dreams ( Eurythmics)

Primadonna ( Marina )

Emra Amelia Aldridge - Dance to forget (TryHardNinja)

Cake ( Melanie Martinez )

Oh no! ( Marina and the diamonds)

Material girl ( Madonna)

Zero - Hole-Dwelling

Hermit the frog ( Marina and the diamonds)

Jason Meyer ( Jason the toymaker )- DARKSIDE ( neoni )

Super Psycho Love ( Simon Curtis)

Sexy dr_g ( Falling in Reverse)

Jealously, jealously ( Olivia Rodrigo)

Louis Vuitton Body Bag ( Jeffree Star ) 

Laughing Jack - Lonely (Palaye Royale)

Happy face (Jagwar Twin)

Backstabber ( Kesha )

Bad feeling ( Jagwar Twin )

Laughing Jill - Lone Digger (Caravan palace)

What are you watching for?  (Gwen Stefani)

Applause ( Lady Gaga)

Maniac ( Michael Sembello ) 

Shoot him down! ( Alice Francis)

Candy Pop - HIP ( mamamoo )

Nathan Nobody - Gladiator ( Jann )

Beautiful is boring ( BONES UK )

Mammamia ( maneskin )

Sally Williams - Who is she?  (I Monster)

Dollhouse ( Melanie Martinez)

Tag, You're it (Melanie Martinez)

Lazari Natalie Svong - I hate my mom ( GRLwood )

Lucille Tiffany Greatfield( Lulu ) - Tag, You're it (Melanie Martinez)

How do you sleep? ( AJA )

Slenderman - I didn't find the right song 

[palmviewfm]

Thinking of joining! Mw females?

oh  my  goodness, yaaaay !  i'm  so  excited  to  see  your  app  if  you  do  decide  to  apply  !  so  far  our  current  mwf  for  fcs  are:  samantha  logan,  maia  mitchell,  cierra  ramirez,  adria  arjona,  madison  bailey,  rachel  zegler,  sabrina  carpenter,  meg  donnelly,  halle  bailey,  ryan  destiny,  lizeth  selene,  danielle  rose  russell,  kaylee  kaneshiro,  daisy  edgar  jones,  dakota  johnson,  michaela  jae  rodriguez,  emily  browning,  ayo  edebiri,  carla  gugino,  zion  moreno,  anna  lamb,  blu  hunt,  auli'i  cravalho,  hunter  schafer,  zendaya  coleman,  alycia  debnam-carey,  nicola  coughlan,  phoebe  dyvenor,  lyrica okano, lulu antarisksa, olivia holt, virginia gardner, simone  ashley,  vanessa  morgan,  chelsea clark, sara waisglass, antonia gentry, minnie mills, milly alcock, bailee madison, malia pyles , maia reficco, isabella gomez, zaria simone, olivia rodrigo, chandler kinney, whitney peak, vitoria strada, hande ercel, savannah lee smith, natalie alyn lind, renee rapp, sofia  carson,  adeline  rudolph,  tati  gabrielle,  danielle  campbell,  camila  mendes,  brianne howey, indiana evans, liz gillies, victoria justice, ashleigh  murray,  midori francis, angela  sarafyan,  and  dewanda  wise. and  for  counterparts  we'd  love  to  see:  emily  fields,  spencer  hastings,  alison  dilaurentis,  mona  vanderwaal,  aria  montgomery,  peyton  sawyer,  rachel  gatina,  quinn  james,  elena  gilbert,  katherine  pierce,  caroline  forbes,  bonnie  bennett,  cheryl  blossom,  sabrina  spellman,  libby  chessler,  stephanie  tanner,  marcia  brady,  betty  cooper,  veronica  lodge,  meredith  grey,  issa  dee,  jessica  day,  christina  yang,  fleabag,  buffy  summers,  faith  lehane,  jessica  pearson,  elle  woods,  analise  keating,  olive  penderghast,  monica  geller,  frances  baby  houseman,  betty  rizzo,  sandy  olson,  tracey  turnblad,  joey potter, jen lindley, donna  sheridan,  sophie  sheridan,  claire  standish,  allison  reynolds,  cher  horowitz,  olivia  pope,  bella  swan,  rosalie  hale,  alice  cullen,  esme  cullen,  willow  rosenberg,  grace le domas, georgia miller, blair  waldorf,  serena  van  der  woodsen,  and  georgina  sparks  !

[revolutionqueen83]

And also a Happy Belated Happy Heavenly Birthday to my other Favourite Actress Natalie Wood.

As i said in Louise's Post they both starred in Brainstorm Together with Christopher Walken and Cliff Robertson! Long story short i discovered Natalie 2 years ago on her birthday and have Loved her forever.

Natalie in Brainstorm too is my top favourite movie of hers, for me i would say Penelope, Brainstorm, This Property is Condemned are my faves of hers.

Natalie Exudes God given Talent, Faith, warmth, kindness ✨️ and strength. Again someone else i am proud to be inspired by, and as Louise Fletcher said after Natalie passed that the friendship they formed and how everyone that knew Natalie described her as warm friendly and passionate. But also wanted to stand up for what she rightly believed in. And that is something earned.. the respect.

Though having 43 years on this beautiful Home we call Earth, i wish she were here but i know we will get justice for her that will succeed and we will all meet oneday.

Thank you Natalie for teaching me kindness, always striving to do just that everyday.

[cdyssey]

Safe

Summary: On the night before Natalie's funeral, Tai finds herself on Shauna's doorstep.

Tags: Death/Drug Mentions

AO3 Link

On the evening before Natalie’s funeral, Taissa knocks on Shauna’s door, shivering from seven sleepless nights that feel like seven thousand, from fear, from aching grief, from the rain and November cold. She’s not here about forgiveness exactly—giving it, receiving it, talking about if either of them have ever once deserved it.

It’s just about being in her presence. 

About finding comfort in one of the few people who has ever made her feel safe.

It’s to her visceral relief that Shauna’s the one who opens the door. She’s fairly sure she would have clawed Jeff’s pretty boy eyes out on sight. (Fucking asshole. Their goddamn blackmailer apparently.) And, well, she still feels ashamed that the first time she laid eyes on Callie, it was on the verge of being mere footfalls and moments away from successfully hunting her mother down.

She hadn’t wanted it to happen like that.

Had maybe wanted their two kids to meet someday, and she and her best friend could look each other in the eye and revel in the fact that they’d produced one damn good thing in this world. 

They hadn’t fucked something up.

But she supposes that plan went like a brick through a window when she recently scared the living shit out of her own child and almost killed his other mother.

Simone’s going to take her to court for full custody whenever she gets out of the hospital, and Taissa is going to fight it, of course—(she never knows when to quit)—but somewhere, beneath the thousands of crusted layers of outrage, denial, inflexible pride, and reflexive fear, it’s entirely possible that she understands that it’ll be justice if her soon-to-be-ex-wife wins. She’s spent an entire lifetime inadvertently hurting the people she has loved. Simone’s probably helping out by making it that much harder for her to do it to their beautiful son.

Indeed, another of her would-have-been-victims stands in the threshold of the doorway with a flannel pajama set on, her hair hanging in limp waves around her face, dark shadows engulfing those big, brown eyes like sickly bruises. 

She seems exasperated by Taissa’s presence, one hand cocked on her hip, mouth pressed into a thin, pink line.

Fair enough.

Warranted even.

But she also looks so goddamn broken.

“You look like shit,” Taissa blurts out and just as immediately regrets it—not because she didn’t mean it exactly—but because Nat had said the same thing to Shauna mere weeks ago, and she knows, just from clocking her friend’s black expression, that the connection isn’t lost on her.

“Oh, fuck off,” she snarls and tries to slam the door in her face, but Taissa gets her foot in before it completely closes. The ensuing force might have been enough to break something had she not been wearing boots.

“Wait, Shauna! Fuck—“ She hisses through the pain ricocheting all the way up her leg.  “I don’t know why I said that. I mean, just look at me. I look like shit too. Haven’t slept much since—“

But she stops short, can’t quite bring herself to finish the awful sentence. It’s unbearable. 

She can’t fucking bear it.

It’s only been a little over a week since paramedics carted Natalie’s body away in a belted black bag. She had always been tiny, but she was utterly insubstantial in death, just an arrangement of hollow bones on the dirty ass ground. It had been a familiar sight to them all. 

Watching someone they love die.

Being the sole cause of her death.

Natalie, their savior and leader in those cold and lonely woods.

Natalie, their teammate.

Natalie, their hunter.

Natalie, their friend.

Taissa had tried so fucking hard to save her, had paid for rehab stint after failed rehab stint, had both forced her scrawny ass to sober up in jail on a few frustrated nights and dutifully bailed her out at least a dozen times more. She’d coddled her. Yelled at her. Given her a thousand-and-one stern talking-tos, perhaps thinking—(praying)—that at least one of these extraordinary measures would be enough to keep her alive. But in the end, even if it was Misty who shot her up with phenobarbital, it was Taissa who had called off the crisis team.

Which is to say that it was Taissa who made it permissible for their former equipment manager to wield a cocked and loaded gun.

Shauna’s face doesn’t exactly soften, but at the very least, she stops actively trying to amputate Taissa’s foot, and she takes desperate solace in that, in the fact that her friend still gets it—gets her—without a single syllable having to be said.

“Me neither,” the other woman finally admits in a quiet voice, leaning her cheek against the edge of the door. It doesn’t look comfortable, but then again, nothing about Shauna ever really does. “When I shut my eyes, all I can see is her.”

And then she does it.

She briefly closes her eyes, exhaling deeply, and Taissa knows that Nat is filling all of that empty space: her presence, her absence, her sunken-cheeked ghost. She was waxy in death, like a damaged doll. A marionette even. Limbs akimbo. All cut and broken strings. 

“Yeah,” Taissa nods once, the column of her throat suddenly constricted. She blinks rapidly and swipes at the underside of her own heavy eyes with the heel of her hand. 

“Rain,” she lies and doesn’t know why she does that either. Most of her actions are incomprehensible to her these days, even when she does feel present in her own body.

(Which is not as often as she’d care to admit.)

“Can I…” She hesitates, squirms, worries her chapped lower lip, and suddenly feels like a kid again, too little to be occupying such big shoes. “Uh… can I …come in?”

“No.” 

Shauna straightens up and shakes her dark head. The lone syllable slashes through Taissa like a knife. She’d been counting on Shauna’s acquiescence—much more than she had even realized until this very moment. 

She hadn’t anticipated a no.

Shauna has never fucking said no when she’s needed her.

But then, surprising her and simultaneously unknotting her where she stands, her friend reaches out and places a steadying hand on her arm.

“Stay here,” she says, fingertips gently curving over Taissa’s wrist. It’s still slightly banded with rope burn scars, all the nights her Other self had fought against containment, and all the nights that Van had valiantly fought back. She usually wears a watch over the spot, some expensive number, the kind lawyers like to wear when they’ve made it.

“I’ll grab us some blankets and something warm to drink,” Shauna continues in a voice that could almost be construed as kind. “We’ll, um, sit in your car, okay?”

“Okay,” Taissa croaks, devastated with relief, simply choking on it. 

She doesn’t have to leave.

Shauna doesn’t exactly smile, but the corner of her lip slightly bends.

Just a little. 

Taissa clings to this infinitesimal gesture like it’s a lifeline.

—

Ten minutes later, they’re both in Taissa’s idling car, sipping on boozy coffee, plaid throws draped around their shoulders like pelts. It’s still drizzling a little outside, the rain politely drumming its fingers against the steel roof of the car. Fleetwood Mac plays on the radio.

“Landslide.”

It’s depressing as hell, but neither of them make any move to change it. They both loved this song when they were kids. (Shauna dropped Tai off at her house after practice once when her own car was in the shop, and they listened to it on cassette, incorrectly half-remembering the lyrics to the song. They talked about MTV and stupid history pop quizzes. They pleasantly agreed that their calculus and English teachers were probably fucking behind the gym. They fantasized about what it would be like if they finally made it to Nationals. Shauna thought it was a long shot. Taissa bet her five whole dollars and a six-pack of beer that it was a guarantee.)

“I would have invited you in,” Shauna explains, lips nearly touching the rim of her thermos, “but I don’t think Callie would take too kindly to your presence right now. You made an… um… not-so-nice first impression.”

It’s a generous way of saying that she almost killed Shauna in an act of ritual violence.

“We don’t have to sugarcoat it,” Taissa mutters, even though she has to look away, staring out at the endless row of nice, suburban houses in this nice, respectable neighborhood that her friend who used to be their unflinching butcher lives in. It doesn’t feel real to her.

But then again, most things don’t.

“We don’t have to litigate it either,” comes a blunt reply—a warning tone even—punctuated by the precise thud of Shauna setting her coffee down.

Danger ahead.

Don’t cross this line.

Don’t burn this tentative bridge, Taissa.

This is all you’ve fucking got.

“I’m a lawyer,” she retorts all the same, perpetually one to greet a challenge with a handshake and a vicious smile. “That’s what I do for a living."

A beat—she inhales sharply through her nose.

"Well, did," she mumbles. "Did for a living anyway."

The slip-up briefly disorients her. She hasn’t spent an awful lot of time thinking about the fact that she’s a state senator now, not since her barely remembered excursion to a dusty video store in Ohio. Naturally, all of her aides were on the verge of a nervous breakdown after her week-long disappearance, freaking out about missed calls and panicked constituents, and in one assistant’s case, her lost car. She didn’t have much of an explanation for them then, nor can she barely bring herself to care about the less-than-stellar optics now. The election feels like it belongs to another lifetime.

Before Natalie.

And this is the After.

She will have to live in the After and with it for the rest of her godless days.

“What do you want then?” Shauna laughs bitterly. “To talk about how you called off the crisis team? To fondly reminisce about the fact that you picked up a knife? That’s not a conversation that’s going to end well for either of us, Tai.”

She briefly wonders if the other woman is being accusatory if it’s all true.

“I don’t fucking know, Shauna,” she grunts, defensive—always—and in this particular matter, far from deservedly so. “I just don’t want to… you know… do what we always do.”

“Fuck each other over?” The other woman snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s petulant, a child’s gesture. 

They’re both forty-two year old women who never stopped being seventeen.

“That,” Taissa agrees emphatically, “and sweep it all under the rug like it’s no big deal. We’ve both fucked each other over lately. Like, you and the whole Adam deal. What was that? What the hell were you even thinking?”

Maybe it’s a low blow, bringing up the fact that Shauna has been a piece of shit too while they’re sitting in her driveway, drinking her coffee that’s probably three-fourths booze, but Taissa isn’t above a little playing in the mud. Besides, she doesn’t want to be alone in the pit, ashamed by just how far she’s fallen. Hell is too awful of a place to be without a bosom friend.

Shauna immediately flushes.

“Don’t change the subject,” she snaps, every lineament in her body rigid with tension as she turns to fully face Taissa. “I mean, you and the other four dipshits were actually going to kill me. Like, you were literally gonna do it just because I drew that stupid card.”

“I thought you didn’t want to litigate it,” Taissa mocks her, and it’s clever. It’s scathing. It’s cruel. It’s how they sometimes talked to each other in the woods, and so maybe it’s a fucked up declaration of love too.

“Yeah, well…” Shauna starts heatedly, pink blotches feathering her cheeks, but then just as quickly fizzles out, visibly deflating. She’s got nothing, Taissa knows, because she doesn’t either. 

What they’ve done is indefensible—the violence that they’ve inflicted upon others, the suffering, the horror, and the pain. They’re going to destroy their families and all the people that they’ve ever loved if they keep it up. They already decimated themselves in the wilderness a long time ago.

And they could blame evil forest spirits then; they could attribute their brutality, their monstrosity, and their madness to every creaking branch and volatile stirring of the breeze. Devoted worshippers, they could call their own depravity God and offer sacrifices to keep it alive in their chests.

But maybe Shauna was the one who screamed it best the other night.

You know there’s no It, right? It was just us.

And maybe Lottie, as unbalanced as she was, as fundamentally unwell, had a salient point too.

Is there a difference?

The end results are still the same. They’re abominations, each and every one of them; the blood on their hands keeps the score.

“You killed a man, and we almost killed you,” Taissa says matter-of-factly, and she almost remembers what it’s like to be a lawyer again, actually caring about justice in this world. “And, fuck, Shauna, that’s not even half of what we’ve done. We’re all messed up, and somehow, we’re not sharing a wall with Lottie in the psych ward.”

“Because we’re not like…” Shauna tries to protest, shaking her head, looking like a hunted animal and just as hurt. “We can’t be—“

“We can’t be? Or don’t want to be?” She cuts across her mercilessly, rubbing one of her brows with two fingers. “Because I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and I don’t know that it’s great that I can’t remember chasing you through the woods. I think the fact that I woke up holding a knife is fuckin’ terrifying.”

And maybe that’s one of the things—right next to Natalie’s death—that haunts and implicates Taissa most of all. The hypothetical reality where she could have slaughtered her best friend and not even realized it until after she’d done it. She looks over at Shauna, at the steady rise and fall of her chest, at the delicate flush coloring her bloodless face, and feels a rush of primal relief in her aliveness, in her hereness and her health.

Of course, being alive is not the same as being well—the survivors from the woods know that far more intimately than most—but it goddamn beats being dead. They’d sell their own souls just to keep their hearts pumping. 

(They‘ve done it before.)

(Once, they watched a twelve-year old boy fucking drown.)

“Why are you even here, Tai?” Shauna groans, every syllable affected, injured and anguished on her tongue. “Why aren’t you talking about all this with… God, I don’t know… Van? I mean, where is she? I don’t even know what you want me to say.“

At the mention of her—well, she doesn’t exactly know what to call Van anymore because ex-girlfriend sounds juvenile, reductive, and now frankly untrue—Taissa shifts in her seat, a knot in her belly, a writhing worm.

She loves Van with every last molecule in her and Van loves her back, right down to the ghastly marrow of her bones. And when they kiss, when they talk, when they share space with each other, when they fuck, the entire world narrows down to just the two of them alone. 

And that’s intoxicating, how consumed that they are by each other—fire and oxygen, burning and burning endlessly in the dark of the night.

But, Jesus, it’s breathtakingly dangerous too. It’s not lost on Taissa that Lottie hadn’t been the only one who had wanted to draw cards on the night that Natalie died. After all, it was Van who had convinced her to call off the crisis team; it was Van who had also wanted to play their most sacred and dangerous game.

For what reason?

Taissa’s got one hell of a good idea, and there’s an entirely selfish part of her that sympathizes—and more than that even—actually fucking understands.

(Survival is the one thing that any of them have ever really been good at besides soccer; in those godforsaken woods, there was never a cost they weren't eventually willing to pay.)

“She’s driving back from Ohio tonight for the funeral,” Taissa finally says, neglecting to mention that she’d had to go back for an appointment with her oncologist. Shauna doesn’t need to know. Shauna would immediately connect all the twisted puzzle pieces together and arrive at the big picture. Shauna would bristle. Shauna would judge. Shauna would blame the pair of them for Natalie’s death all over again. (Shauna would be right.) Shauna doesn’t need to know.

“And I don’t wanna talk to her about this,” she continues stubbornly, also setting her thermos in the empty cupholder with a decisive clunk. “I want to talk to you. Van and I… you know… it’s like we don’t know how to be straight with each other sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Shauna mutters under her breath, and Taissa laughs for the first time in what feels like days; it’s a coarse sound, unpleasant even, as though it’s been raked from the muck in her chest. 

“Asshole. You know what I mean.”

“Not really,” comes a scoffing reply. “It’s not like we’ve been entirely straight with each other either lately…”

It’s true. They’ve both lied to one another’s faces and thought nothing about getting away with it. Taissa didn’t have a single qualm about sending a fixer after any of her fellow survivors, and Shauna, meanwhile, remorselessly made them all accomplices to manslaughter for Jeff Fucking Sadecki. The weight of those mutual violations currently electrifies the air between them—takes up oxygen, resources, energy, and precious space. It turns all of their words into live wires, each subtle shift of their bodies into the probable beginnings of a spark, an all-engulfing flame.

And both of them intimately know what it’s like to watch the world around them burn. 

“No,” Taissa agrees tiredly, shrugging a hand across the back of her neck. “I guess we haven’t.”

Another long beat, a tortured silence, slumping between them like a body, a carcass, a bloody slab of meat. This is assuredly the part of the conversation where normal people say sorry and hug each other’s neck.

The problem is, they haven’t been normal people in a very long time.

“Lot’s locked up,” she finally breaks the silence, digging her nails into the fabric of her jeans. She clipped them short just last night. Couldn’t stand all the dirt that had gotten beneath her cuticles. “Van’s away, and Nat’s…” 

She stumbles on the words, still can’t say it, still finds it impossible to articulate a reality where Natalie Scatorccio isn’t just down the road, probably snorting blow at some shitty motel.

But at least she was alive.

At least she was somewhere Taissa could always reach.

“... in a casket somewhere on the other side of town,” Shauna finishes for her, and the effort seems like it cost her. She shivers and suddenly looks ancient. Neither of them are even close to fifty-years old.

“Yeah,” Taissa just barely gets out, roughly scrubbing the side of her nose. “And I can’t stop thinking about how she hated small spaces.”

“Ha,” Shauna tuts, “don’t we all?”

And all she can do is nod in mute agreement. Before they’d been flown back to Wiskayok—nearly three months of recovery in a Canadian hospital later—doctors had been forced to sedate them all. Not a single one of them could bear the thought of being lucid on a goddamn plane. And to this day, Taissa can’t stand to be entrapped in a space any smaller than a bedroom. Elevators freak her out. Her closet door stays open when she’s scavenging for clothes. Simone always rode with Sammy on the Ferris wheel whenever they took him to the local fair. Those steel cages made a mockery and fool of her, but somehow, she had hated it even more when her wife looked at her with such tender concern in her eyes, with pity for this tragedy that she could never understand.

“But I know what you mean,” Shauna eventually adds in a less skeptical tone. “The thought of that makes me wanna shrivel up and, like… die.”

Maybe most other people would have flinched at such a brutal assertion.

But, of course, most other people haven't starved in the wilderness for nineteen goddamn months.

Taissa doesn't even blink.

“So many of our people are either dead, going, or gone, Shauna,” she half-whispers, staring out through the rain-lashed windows. The endless rows of amber street lights flicker like a hundred tiny fires in the night. “And I know we have our shit between us, but we have to get through it. No grudges or anything like that. I can’t… I don’t want to… 

She struggles yet again; it’s hard to be honest about what she wants from Shauna.

Her attention. Her affection. The physical presence of her body right next to hers. The weight of her unconditional love. It’s not really romantic, but it sometimes absolutely is. It’s almost sisterly if it’s sisterly to want to lay another woman’s warm arms and feel safe there forever. Of course, at the same time, it’s an unrealistic expectation—not particularly because they’re both taken women per say—but because safety is the most temporary delusion in the world. So Shauna is safety. And Shauna is a delusion. And Shauna is temporary.

But fucking hell, they all are in the end.

“I’m terrified of being alone,” she eventually chokes out, sickened by every syllable, so goddamn ashamed. She resists the urge to close her eyes at the sudden rush of nausea and bile. “It’s stupid, I know—“

“No,” Shauna tries to interject, shaking her head. “Tai, it’s not—“

“—and, fuck, it’s needy,” she plows on anyway, afraid to stop, afraid to listen, unable to face even the barest possibility of rejection—not from anyone, really, but especially not from Shauna. She buries her face in her shivering hands, fingertips mashing down hard on her eyelids.

“Just don’t shut me out, Shauna. Please. I’m begging,” she finishes, and just as she does, a horrible thought—Jesus, one that she doesn’t even believe—suddenly erupts in her head.

Don’t make me another Jackie Taylor.

All-alone when she died, frozen, half-buried in the freshly fallen snow. They used to have a term for that when they played soccer.

Iced out.

She would know; she once broke a girl’s leg putting the phrase into good and practical use.

“Taissa.” Her own name lands upon her sharply, like the lash of an incisive blade, but then, directly on the very heels of it, there is a much softer sensation, right next to the crook of her elbow. A warm, scar-calloused hand. The hand of their butcher. The hand of her best friend. “Hey, look at me, okay?”

It takes her a few seconds, but in the end, she reluctantly drops her hands and finds that Shauna’s face is mere inches away from her own now, pale even in the growing darkness. She can discern every tired line and errant freckle, the faint etching of a scar running across the bridge of her nose that she earned in the woods long ago. She can see the resilient, seventeen-year old girl who almost fucking died in gruesome labor. And she can also see the forty-two year old wreck that Shauna has become now precisely because she didn't.

“Stop being a dumbass,” she says when she’s sure that she has Taissa’s attention. “I’m not going to shut you out or whatever. Alright? You tried to kill me. Fine. Both of us have done far worse.”

And she smiles at the end of this batshit insane—this unquestionably true—declaration. It’s a small, crooked little thing, but it’s more than that, really. It's an olive branch and a tiny kindness. It's an unspoken sign to let her know that everything is going to be okay.

Relief storms through Taissa Turner. It plunges through her like rain.

“Sooooo inappropriate,” she croaks, embarrassed when a tear slips from the corner of her eye. She jerks instinctively to mop herself up, but Shauna gets there first, reaching up to thumb it away with her free hand without saying a word. She almost wants to gasp at the touch, wants to shudder, wants to weep, wants to shatter into a million pieces on her Nissan’s well-kept floor. 

She keeps it together anyway.

Shauna's tenderness is sweet anathema to her, an unholy cure.

“You say that like there’s anything appropriate about us,” the other woman says before letting her hand fall away. Taissa misses the warmth of her touch immediately. “Like we’ve got this normal thing down.”

“Wishful thinking, I guess,” she replies lamely.

Refuting her on that particular point is pretty useless.

“We all have stories that we tell ourselves in the dark,” Shauna shrugs right back, and with that, reaches down to grab her thermos from the cupholder. To Taissa’s surprise, she also grabs the one next to it.

“What are you doing?” She asks quickly, dreading that her friend has already decided to take her word back.

“What does it look like, dummy?" Shauna rolls her eyes in such a way that it's clear that she thinks she's doing something obvious. (Asshole.) "We’re going inside. There’s vegetable soup in the crockpot, and you can wear one of my t-shirts to bed. Well, um, put Jeff on the couch.” She snorts to herself at this last thought. “He kinda deserves it after all the shit he pulled."

Taissa’s body reacts to what her friend is suggesting before her mind catches up. She laughs aloud, a pleasant warmth percolating in her gut, a happiness that she's forgotten how to entirely feel. She only eventually remembers—

“Shit, wait, what about Callie? I thought you said she wouldn’t want to see me.”

“I’ll deal with my teenager. You’re coming in."

“But—”

"No buts," comes a fierce reply, a desperate one. Taissa flinches at the sudden change in tone, while her friend looks down, her dark hair eclipsing most of her face from view.

"It's mean, it's just... we need each other tonight, Tai. Tomorrow—" But it's Shauna’s turn to be repulsed by her own words, to anticipate the foregone conclusion to her sentence and call foul. Red card. Timeout. This isn’t right. It’s far from fucking fair.

But, of course, this has always been their shared reality.

Life isn't fucking fair.

“—we bury Nat,” Taissa finishes, remembering what it was like to be a closer in the game. One kick. A ball buried in the net. It had to be done.

As a teenager, she once lifted her arms in victory as her teammates crowded around her, shouting her name, embracing her, nearly knocking her to the ground. As an adult, she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind Shauna's ear, knuckles skimming her smooth cheek, and knows that this, too, is love.

“Fuck,” Shauna exhales, closing her eyes. 

“Fuck,” Taissa dully agrees just as it stops drizzling outside, as it begins to pour and endlessly pour.

[themarshmallownerd]

New Chapter: The End and the Beginning

Link: Chapter 2

Previous: Chapter 1

First: Chapter 1 (AO3)

A/N: I'll be honest, I rushed through editing on this one because I was absolutely determined to get it out before I leave for vacation with my friends. So, please, bear with me on it!

That being said, just one more chapter after this! I'm excited to bring the rest of the girls in! I'm hoping I can give them all their due justice ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Preview: "The scar was faded and white from over a decade’s time to heal, but it was there nonetheless, like the ghost of a third eye on her face. Evidence of that frightening night from her childhood.

Another source of darkness in the Princess of Light.

Natalie tried not to take nostalgic comfort in such things anymore. These days, she was trying to dwell on the present more than the past. Especially since she had found an actual sense of belonging in the present, during these expeditions through the woods with Lottie.

Hoping to return this particular outing to the more lighthearted tone of before, she smirked playfully at her friend. “You know me as ‘Nat’ now? I thought I told you I had that name reserved.”

Any concern that Lottie had forgotten about the first conversation they’d ever had, all the way back at the festival from months ago, was quickly dashed. The princess’s face flushed with pink and she averted Natalie’s gaze with a bashful turn of her head.

“I—well, I…” she sputtered for a moment, and Natalie couldn’t help but taste the slightest bit of self-satisfaction to know she was the only one who got to see the kingdom’s poised and proper princess so flustered. “Well, I know I can’t speak for you. But I know I certainly consider you dear to me.”

Natalie’s pride was swift to leave her as heat blossomed in her own face at that.

“I’m not sure if the principle remains the same that way,” Lottie went on, seeming to regain more of her self-composure just as more of Natalie’s seeped out of her. “So, you’ll have to forgive my slip of tongue just this once if it doesn’t mean anything.”

Natalie’s face only burned hotter at the improper thoughts that crossed her mind at the mention of Lottie’s tongue.

Wow. Kevyn was right. She was pining.

“No,” she said once she had managed to reign in her unseemly mind. “No forgiveness needed. I’d say you already earned the privilege to that name.”

“I have?”

In spite of her efforts to maintain a mask of impassive composure, Natalie couldn’t help but grin in amusement at the sight of the princess, so endearing in her childlike excitement to potentially mean as much to Natalie as the barmaid meant to her.

“Well, now you’ve seen where I spend the other half of my days,” Natalie reminded. “Between a sea of lonely, drunk sailors in a dusty old building, and just one lonely, well-mannered princess out here in the open air, I would say you’re definitely the preferable company. Not to mention, a preferable view, as well.”

Lottie gasped in feigned scandal. “Is that all you take me for? A pretty face? Why, Ms. Taylor, you shameless miscreant.”

Natalie breathed a soft laugh (and ignored the slight twist in her stomach at hearing Lottie address her by a false name). “Oh? You’re calling me a miscreant? That’s rich, you little coquette, considering you indulge my attention anyways.”

Natalie waded closer in the water, until she was practically pressing into Lottie’s side. Giving the princess no room to hide as Natalie teasingly asked her, “Tell me, does it fill your blue blood with thrill to capture the interest of a lowly serviceman?”

As intended, the tight proximity on its own was enough to flood Lottie’s face with a bashful rosy color again. “No…” she murmured quietly, and for a moment, Natalie thought she had the victory in this playful battle of charms.

But then, before Natalie could realize where her friend’s hand was, she felt a shove against her back, sending her forward in the water. The creek was shallow enough that she was able to right herself easily, though it was at the cost of splashing even more water up along her clothing, soaking various patches along her legs with cool water. In the process—and to her slight embarrassment—a tiny squeak of surprise escaped her.

“But that—that did give a thrill,” Lottie declared around a devilish grin.

“Mucky pup,” Natalie growled, though there wasn’t any heat behind it. She crouched down to dip her hands into the water, slinging a handful at the princess.

To her credit, Lottie barely flinched at the chilling touch of the water. In fact, she promptly retaliated by swatting the surface of the creek as well, lightly splashing back at Natalie. It prompted a hearty back-and-forth between them, sending little waves of water flying at each other.

Natalie yelped every time she was struck by even a touch of cold liquid, curling in on herself to avoid it as best she could. Yet, there was little time to actually feel its chill when Lottie suddenly gave chase and she tried to flee in turn.

It was a slow-paced chase, given they had to calculate each step to avoid slipping on the uneven, moss-covered stones that composed the creek floor. Even then, Natalie wound up losing her footing anyways when she tried to gamble with a particularly slick, flat-faced rock.

Fortunately, Lottie was close enough to dart forward and grab her arm before she could completely topple onto the stones below. The princess was quick to pull the barmaid’s body backwards, onto a more secure boulder with her, and wrapped her arms around Natalie from behind to keep her secured there.

“Whoa! Steady there,” Lottie urged as Natalie regained her footing. “Are you alright, dearest?”

In spite of their jesting exchange mere moments ago, the earnest use of the term of endearment nearly made Nat’s legs buckle completely below her. She could only hope that Lottie couldn’t feel the sudden spike in her heart rate, despite the fact that the princess’s hands were locked directly over her sternum. They were pressing down slightly, applying a comforting pressure right by her heart, which was now pounding in shameless abashment.

“Yes,” Natalie managed to answer. “I’m alright.”

[carruechedaily]

Then they (Ashton and Mila) basically say "think of his child". Did he think of his future children when he did what he did? Idc, it's not hard and will never be hard to NOT r*pe someone.

The fact that he went on to live his life like he didn't drastically change someone else's proves that he wasn't remorseful.

I wish Kirk Douglas had gotten the same treatment in life after what he did to Natalie Wood. That poor woman got no justice.

!!!! How do you look at someone the same after they did something so terrible, it really says a lot about their moral compass

[fuckyeahelijahwoodfan]

Elijah Wood Thinks You’re Right Not to Trust Walter

By James Grebey

It would be reductive to break Elijah Wood’s vast filmography down into just two different types of roles, but he does frequently find himself playing either an innocent — an impossibly bright-eyed and good soul like Frodo Baggins or any number of his childhood roles — or, well, a weird little freak. Wood agrees that Walter, his character in season two of Yellowjackets, is of the latter category, though the self-proclaimed citizen detective who finds himself investigating a mystery alongside Christina Ricci’s Misty has a certain … odd sense of innocence to him as well.

Walter made his proper debut in last week’s episode of Yellowjackets when the man better known as PuttingTheSickInForensics dropped by Misty’s place of work and offered to help solve the mystery of Natalie’s disappearance. (Never mind that Walter also — correctly — suspects there was something more to Adam Martin’s disappearance despite Misty’s attempts to get him to stop snooping into the murder that she helped cover up.) In episode three, Walter and Misty meet on a boat to interrogate the dim-witted Randy Walsh about what he knows, with Misty feeding Walter questions and Walter pretending to be an FBI agent who slaps the ever-living shit out of Randy. (“It was a camera angle and swiping a hand across the face in the right way to make it look real,” Wood clarifies. “I didn’t hit him.”)

Walter is something of a wild card, seemingly unrelated to whatever force the survivors might not have left behind in the Canadian wilderness, who disrupts Misty’s present-day existence. Yellowjackets’s creators, Ashley Lyle and Bart Nickerson, reached out to Wood for the role, which the actor says was “unprecedented” for him because he already loved Yellowjackets and Ricci’s work as Misty. “I’ve never seen a season of a show as a viewer and as a fan and then subsequently been asked to participate in a follow-up season,” he says, explaining that he was all-in on the idea of “this eccentric oddball called Walter.”

What has it been like joining the Yellowjackets cast when you’re playing an outsider who is decidedly not a Yellowjacket?

So much of the storytelling in Yellowjackets is the young cast in the past and what happened to them in the forest and how that past trauma informs the characters as adults. Walter doesn’t have any of that. I got to come into this as a completely stand-alone character that has an adjacent interest that sort of feeds into Misty’s journey but doesn’t have the narrative weight or the darkness of what everyone else has experienced. So much of what I got to do with Christina was almost comic relief. It’s this kind of funny investigation story that ultimately dovetails into the true heart of the narrative of the show but initially is kind of on the side. Walter doesn’t have to bear a lot of that weight, at least initially.

Were you familiar at all with citizen detectives before this? There’s a certain unease about whether they’re trying to actually solve crimes and bring bad guys to justice or just amateurs getting their rocks off with no accountability. What’s Walter’s motivation?

I think both are true: It’s people who truly want to help, maybe, but it’s probably more the thrill of being involved in something and feeling like they’re participating in a larger narrative, fed by a community of similarly like-minded individuals. That’s very true of Walter. My feeling is that Walter probably does not have a lot of field experience, that, heretofore, a lot of what Walter has experienced in the world of the citizen detective is to just contribute ideas to cases. There’s a lot of fun to be had there, but it’s low-level investigative work that gets fed back into this Reddit thread. But with this, Misty presents him with a real opportunity to get out there.

Do you have an idea of who the Yellowjackets survivors are to the general public? Are they thought of as celebrities, and, if so, does Walter have any specific reverence for Misty’s past outside of her citizen-detective work?

It does come up. He makes it very clear that he’s not interested in her for that reason, but it’s baked into the narrative that everyone is aware of these women and what has happened to them. There’s no way he’s not fascinated about the past. In the world of Yellowjackets, that would be a part of pop culture that everybody would know about. Even if it’s not the driving force behind his motivation, there has to be some thrill about being associated with a person who had mysterious things happen to her in the past. It doesn’t really factor into a lot of what they experience on this journey together. But as a background element, it’s undeniable.

Toward the end of episode three, Walter says maybe he’s “a bored Moriarty looking for his Sherlock.” Are we supposed to think of him as a villain, like Sherlock’s most infamous foe?

There are obviously narrative hints that are dropped: She listens to bird songs to fall asleep; he listens to cat noises. There’s all sorts of funny little hints that they could be adversaries. But I don’t believe that’s the motivating factor. It certainly isn’t present — yet — in their relationship. Over the course of the season, that might change.

Look, I’ll say this: We’re not entirely sure of who Walter really is. Both Walter and Misty present a version of who they are to the world who is not entirely their true self or their whole self. Walter presents a version of who he is, but there are still so many things that, over the course of their journey together, start to be revealed. I don’t even know that I’ve learned everything about the character yet. We can rightfully feel a degree of un-trustiness toward him because he’s giving us enough reason to not fully believe his motivation and where he’s coming from. But there’s a version of him that is also true, which is that he’s this dude who came across a fair amount of money, so he doesn’t need to work and can just dive into his passion, which is true crime. I think there is a version of him that is that simple, but there might be something underneath all of that as well.

Even not knowing yet if there’s more to Walter than meets the eye, is it possible he’s in over his head now that he’s with Misty?

He has spent all of his time on the citizen-detective message board, and this opportunity that she has given him is the first to get out into the field and flex what he feels are his skills and everything he’s maybe read about. I don’t know that he’s as savvy on the field as he would like to think he is. What we will see over the course of the season is him kind of jumping headfirst into something that is a lot bigger than him and goes beyond his skill set, maybe, at least in practice. But we will definitely see him do these things for the first time.

You’d worked with Christina Ricci before, on The Ice Storm, which, despite having “a character dying in the snow” in common with Yellowjackets, is pretty different in tone. What was that reunion like? We hadn’t worked together since we were teenagers. There was a lot of life in between. But it was great. It was joyful. She is so excellent. She is like a finely tuned instrument of an actress. I really admired what she crafted with Misty in the first season. And, I mean, we’ve both been doing this for a really long time. She also started very young. I think there’s a connection just because we’ve both been doing this for a long time. We certainly have worked together, but also there was just a comfort and ease to it.

With that sense of comfort and ease, was any of the interrogation improvised?

That was all scripted, and it was wild, too, because her part of it, in the bathroom at the bottom of the boat, that initially was supposed to be shot at a separate location. We were going to do all of my stuff, then all of her stuff, with me coming into the bathroom on a separate day. But for time considerations — and also just because the location with the boat worked — we decided to do it all at once. She was in the bathroom, and I had an earpiece in, and she was telling me what to do as I was doing it. So we were playing it almost like a play. It was happening in real time. Everything she was saying in my ear, I could hear it and repeat it and she could hear me. It was so fun and so thrilling. There was no real time for improvisation because we had a lot of material to get through in a short amount of time, but it felt improvised because there was a sort of electricity because of the fact that it was all really happening in real time.

Walter’s cargo shorts are a great character detail. Were there lots of costume options? Did you have to try on a lot of pairs before finding the perfect cargo shorts?

Amy Parris, our costume designer, brought so many wonderful ideas to the table, and it was very easy to identify Walter pretty fast. We were looking for semi-eccentric pieces of clothing that would allow a read on who he was, without it being too extreme but weird enough to make you go, Who the fuck is this guy? [Laughs.] Just slightly heightened or slightly odd. A lot of it was that he’s wearing these sorts of outdoorsy, functional clothes that aren’t cool and aren’t quite being worn as fashion. That was the big guiding principle.

The cargo shorts came about very early — they were baked into the script, actually. When you first see Walter, when he’s walking through the convalescent home that she works at, it’s in the script that she sees his legs. So shorts became a part of his vibe early on.

Between The Lord of the Rings and Over the Garden Wall, you certainly have experience being lost in the woods. Was it at all odd to join a show about being stranded in the wilderness and have your character not be out in the brush?

Those particular elements didn’t occur to me until you just mentioned it, but yeah, you’re right. [Laughs.] But no — I wasn’t really thinking about it in that context. For me, I was just drawn to the fact that I got to play this character who gets to sort of explore this world that had been previously created but who doesn’t have the narrative weight of dealing with the past in the way that all the other characters had to deal with it. Obviously, it all comes to a head toward the end of the season, but the joy for me about this was that I got to play a character who was adjacent to the primary narrative but didn’t really need to engage with the past in that way. This character is kind of his own thing and not at all informed by what happened in the woods.

While we’re on the subject, do you have any feelings about Warner Bros. plans for a possible Lord of the Rings remake? 

I’ve done a little bit of digging, and no one knows what it’s going to be. Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Philippa Boyens are being consulted. There’s no plan yet for what the stories will be and what the narrative will be, and there are no filmmakers attached, and there are no scripts. So it’s the earliest, earliest stages. But my understanding is that nobody is making any moves to remake The Lord of the Rings but rather continue telling stories within Middle-earth, of which there are many stories to mine. I don’t think they’re going to remake Lord of the Rings. If that news were true, I feel like all of us would know about it and there would be a lot of strong feelings.

Is there anything more about Walter you want to tease?

His love of musicals may be meaningful. That’s about all I can say about that. But there’s a tease there.

[angsthology]

I FINISHED YJS I THOUGHT I GAVE YOU A FULL RUNDOWN OF MY OPINIONS ON THE INSTA GC BACK WHEN WE WERE ALL ACTIVE???

but it's okay I can give thoughts and opinions again: natalie's death was sickening I'm never getting over it. i much prefer it when they're in the woods because that's what I expected the whole show to be like for some reason?? so I'm realllyyy looking forward to that in s3. I also need to see misty go fully unhinged asap and i think abt jackieshauna very often too, I miss them :(

justice for lottie btw my girl deserves the world

i mean u prob have i just have a very bad memory,,

the development of u talking about misty i love it i love older misty so bad shes so funny. ANDBYES JUSTICE FOR LOTTIE MY GIRL DID NOTHING WRONG she js wanted to bond with friends in a culty way. nd pls dont speak to me abt nat that did nawt happen okay.

and YEAH i agree i prefer the wilderness scenes over present day bc theyre much more interesting imo and with the fire at the end of s2 i feel like s3 is when it gets REALLY interesting and we get to see the scenes in the beginning yk

lastly, theyve alr started filminh and brunette nat is cominh back 🥰 AND a qn for u liyah and possibly other yjs enjoyers who sees this; who do u think is pit girl in the beginning of s1?

[the-book-queen]

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[wendyliddel]

I recently found out that it was finally revealed who assaulted Natalie Wood when she was a teenager, after the POS finally died after living past 100.

Also, the guy who probably killed Natalie is now 93, which is 50 years older than Natalie got to be.

She really is not going to get justice for anything that happened to her, is she?

[cringefailloserman]

gryffon is played by jack black because they completely changed and butchered his character but everyone who saw only the movie thinks he’s the best character.

queen is played by kate bosworth and is now a girl and they changed their outfit to a long sexy dress with barely any music aspects. also they changed their character archetype to the siren seductress archetype and they try to seduce chip reynolds who is in love with edyn so they are portrayed as evil. gill pratt has a massive crush on them through out the movie and in the end when edyn portman and chip reynolds kiss the camera pans over to queen bosworth and gill pratt and they say “I guess you’ll do..*BIG ASS SIGH*” and then they kiss.

they need more poc representation so caspian is played by justice smith he gets three or four lines after they advertise him as an extremely important character.

also they cast zendaya as lizzie so they can say “she’s not white she’s still poc she’s mixed!!” whenever they face criticism.

ollie is played by either tom holland or a random disney channel kid who’s just aged out and is trying to get their big hit.

jazz is not in it they replaced him with a random girl because they need some real girl power! (she is white)

drey is either an old man who isn’t disabled or he’s the same age and still disabled but he’s the but of every joke and they only show his character when he’s being made fun of or for one or two plot relevant moments.

la alma is created with creepy ass cgi like the lion king or just some dude.

alphonse is the ships ai that is never explained or given a personality or body.

pretzel is also creepy ass cgi and is voice acted by kevin heart for some reason. (she’s still a girl and this makes sense for some reason)

edyn is played by natalie portman and her only character traits are being gillion pratts sister and chip reynolds crush and being a badass because in like one scene she pulls a gun on someone chasing the party (chip reynolds would say like woah mamas after that).

finn is also treated as a joke for his memory loss because holly wood loves disabled people as we all know.

niklaus is played by neil patrick harris and he’s overly gay and flirty with chip reynolds and gillion pratt who look at him with disgust. he also ends up with a tragic backstory about like abusive parents or like teifling slavery and the riptide pirates spare him after defeating him with the power of friendship because of it.

(this is my first time reaching the tag limit i didn’t know there was one)

jrwi riptide movie: dwayne the rock johnson as marshall john lizzie is white again, for some reason. jay is played by scarlet johansson and chip and gillion are both played by chris pratt.

[natz72038]

39 years ago, this magnificent woman was taken from us...

I hope one day she will finally be able to Rest In Peace.

[crispypinenuts]

It took 37 years to find out who killed Natalie Wood, and now we will find out the truth. I’m not pointing any fingers, but it was Robert Wagner. Now he’s a person of interest. TOOK LONG ENOUGH!