#like Christina taught me

[some1willrememberus]

LIONESSES(라이오네시스) 'Like Christina taught me' Official MV

[makingqueerhistory]

Do you have any recommendations of books/ studies/ articles about the representation of queer people in media? Thank you for all the work you do!

Yes absolutely, I would be happy to share. Any discussion like this needs to mention The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies by Vito Russo. Making Queer History does have a set of articles about this as well, with Queen Christina, Queer Codes, and Queer Coding and Different from the Others.

Some more modern books that I can vouch for are:

The Male Gazed: On Hunks, Heartthrobs, and What Pop Culture Taught Me about (Desiring) Men

Manuel Betancourt

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror

Joe Vallese

Gays on Broadway

Ethan Mordden

Hi Honey, I'm Homo!: Sitcoms, Specials, and the Queering of American Culture

Matt Baume

We See Each Other: A Black, Trans Journey Through TV and Film

Tre'vell Anderson

(Affiliate links above)

This is just what I have read though, so other's are free to add on!

[ilguna]

Hey! I love your work so much. Can you do 4 with four (tobias) from divergent ?

☼ succeed (tobias eaton) ☼

warnings; swearing, fighting, blood mention.

wc; 2.4k

prompt; 4. "Why do you sacrifice so much for me?"

notes; tweaked canon, obviously. not really noticeable unless you’re a huge fan.

--

Dauntless initiation is—unsurprisingly—far from what you thought it would be. To be fair, you’re not entirely sure what exactly you were expecting in the first place. All you know was that you were going to be in for a ride when they made you jump on and off of a moving train directly after transferring. 

This gave you a clue of what was to come, of course, but you took it in a different direction. If they wanted to see how daring you could be by risking your lives, then maybe that meant you’d be doing dangerous tasks throughout the rest of the month. 

On the first day, you assumed that you’d be learning how to throw away your inhibitions and solely rely on your instincts. An idea that isn’t incredibly outlandish when it comes to Dauntless. After all, they’re the ones in charge of security and wall perimeter—the jobs that can end up being deadly.

This is why you didn’t have a significant reaction when you were informed by Four that they’d be introducing you to self-defense. They proceeded to hang you a gun, gave you a target, and told you to shoot until your bullets were gone. And after lunch, they brought you to a large room where you were taught how to properly fight an opponent.

This is when reality had begun to set in. They were not teaching you this in case the situation ever arose, but because they wanted you to use it in the coming week. You’re going to be forced to defend yourself, whether you like it or not. They were just being courteous enough to teach you how to, first.

You didn’t figure this out until yesterday when you saw the chalkboard. While it had previously been devoid of writing, it suddenly held a list of names side by side, pairing initiates up together. For the first few minutes, you were under the impression that it was for sparring.

When they sent Al and Will into the center circle together, instructed to fight one another, you looked at Four. You found his eyes already on you, arms crossed over his chest, face hard. In that moment, you remembered all of his warnings for you to pay close attention to the way he’d been throwing his kicks and punches.

It’s not like you were ignoring him, but you did continuously brush him off because he was being overbearing. He must’ve taken this as you just being a know-it-all Erudite, leaving you to figure it out on your own. You’d have to learn one way or another that your logic wouldn’t help.

When really, you hadn’t heard him when he said that you’d be fighting your fellow initiates. 

You were a deer in headlights when the rules were explained. In these fights, you are to keep going until one of you is unable to continue. And while you could concede, it won’t be done without going unpunished. In the old rules, a brave man can acknowledge the strength of others. In the new rules, made by the newest Dauntless leader, a brave man never surrenders.

You think Four may have recognized that a mistake was made. He was quick to come up with an escape, albeit at the cost of your pride. He called you out in the middle of Eric’s explanation, telling you not to be sick on the floor unless you wanted to clean it. All you had to say was that breakfast wasn’t settling well, and you were excused to go sit down with a trash can.

With there being ten initiates in your group, there should’ve been five fights. You sat out, making it four, but none of you made it past the second one. Will and Al fought just fine, Al even won. The next fight to happen was Christina and Molly, which was following the same pattern as the first fight, until Christina decided that she wanted to concede.

That’s when you were informed that a punishment would go along with it. Eric was pissed, dragging Christina all the way to the chasm in the Pit that hangs above the river, barking at the rest of you to follow. He then made her climb to the other side of the railing and forced her to hold on to the bridge by her hands until he was satisfied.

When she didn’t fall to her death, you were dismissed for the rest of the day. This destroyed your plan of analyzing the fighting techniques of the others to figure out what you’re supposed to do. To make up for it, you thought you could come practice in the middle of the night, but the doors were locked.

So, to put it lightly, you’re screwed. The only way to learn now is from the fights that will be taking place, and even then you’ll still be at a disadvantage no matter how you approach it.

As soon as you step foot into the training room, your eyes find the chalkboard, curious to who you’ve been paired up with today. Yesterday, it was supposed to be Tris, the Abnegation transfer. She would’ve been a good first fight to figure out how you want to be in the ring, but that opportunity has passed.

Today, you are given more of a challenging opponent—Peter.

“Oh no,” A voice says, you glance over your shoulder to see that Christina is limping her way over to Tris. Her face is fairly bruised from the beating she received from Molly yesterday. “At least you aren’t paired with Peter.”

Both of them look in your direction, and you accidentally lock eyes with Christina for a moment. You press your lips together in disgust and turn away, no longer interested in their conversation. You are not a member of Erudite anymore, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop seeing you that way. Not until you prove to them that you’re not snot-nosed. 

You turn your attention to Peter, who’s got a good few inches on you. Which wouldn’t be an issue, much less have you worried, if he didn’t have the muscle he does. This fight could easily go two ways, but you have a feeling it’s leaning in his favor more than yours. 

“Maybe she can just take a few hits and pretend to go unconscious.” Al suggests loud enough for you to hear. “No one would blame her.”

You grit your teeth at the idea of taking the cowards way out, something that you won’t be doing, no matter how tempting it is. Even if it does work out in your favor, there’s no telling what Eric will do to you when he figures out that you’d faked it. While he made Christina hang from the chasm by her hands, he’d tell you to do something much worse. Or kick you out of initiation altogether for not having the Dauntless heart.

Which isn’t true. You belong here.

Fortunately, you and Peter are not the first fight of the day, it’s Edward and Molly. You might as well be, though. The pair of you are listed directly underneath them. You think that you’d even prefer being the first to go. If you could get it out of the way, you would.

As you mindlessly watch Edward and Molly, you try to pick out some of their moves to remember with Peter. Four had taught the group of you the basics to get started, he never said that you couldn’t mix in what you know as well. Which is nothing, because you’ve never got into a fight before. There was never a need to.

The personalization works out in Edward’s favor. The technique that Molly had used yesterday on Christina is fairly predictable. On top of that, she’s not fast enough to keep up with Edward’s pace. It’s only a matter of minutes before she’s beaten near-unconscious. That’s when Drew and Peter work together to peel her off of the wooden floor and to the nearest wall to recover.

In the short time you have, you take a couple of deep breaths, shaking your hands to rid the anxious energy that’s fueling your body. You make eye contact with Four briefly, and in this time, he gives you a solid nod. He’s confident in your abilities, more so than you are. It’s a shame that you’re probably going to let him down.

Still, you walk your way to the white circle, standing at one end of it while you wait for Peter. When he finally turns his attention to you,. There’s a smile spread across his face, 

“You okay there, Blowhard?” Peter teases, you can almost feel your eyes bulge out of your head at the nickname. “You look like you’re about to cry. I might go easy on you if you cry.”

“Did you just call me a Blowhard?” You sputter out a laugh. “What does that make you, a Crybaby?”

You look past Peter, at Four, who’s standing side-by-side with Eric. His face is twisted, focused hard on the two of you in the ring. Eric, on the other hand, is tapping his foot quickly, impatience shining through.

Peter raises his hands by his face, elbows and knees bent as he begins to prepare for the fight. “Come on, (Y/n). Just one little tear. Maybe some begging.”

Without warning, you swing your leg at his side, intending to land a kick. He’s prepared for this, grabbing your ankle and yanking you forward, pulling you off balance. You land on your back, but quickly twist to get back to your feet, fists returning, readying yourself.

“Stop playing with her.” Eric suddenly snaps. “I don’t have all day.”

This is enough for Peter, as the amused look on his face disappears. His movement is one giant blur, but the pain in your jaw is sharp, as it continues to spread across your face. For a moment, bright white stars and a black void flow across your vision, taking your balance with it. 

You blink rapidly, backing away from Peter as you try to get the room to stop swaying. This lasts for a few seconds at most, because Peter is moving just as quickly as Edward had been. He appears in front of you, foot slamming into your stomach, stealing the air from your lungs. 

You clutch your ribs as you fight through the pain in your abdomen. Peter takes this as an invitation to come closer, but you’re expecting this. You catch his fist as you slide your foot between his legs, tripping him. Instead of falling forward, you throw him back, twisting his arm in the process.

You land on your knees hard. The dull pain is at the front of your thoughts for a second before you’ve got your first slamming into Peter’s nose. You get two hits in, then he takes a fistful of hair at the back of your head, yanking. He repays the favor by punching you in the nose.

It doesn’t matter how hard you kick or slap, because he’s got a tight grip. The next hit he lands is to your ribs, in the same place that you’d been holding onto moments prior. You open your mouth, letting out a strangled cry, and a metallic taste spreads over your tongue. One word comes to mind; blood.

He lets go of your hair, shoving you away. You land on your palms, gasping through your lips, eyes blurry with tears as you search the ground for the white paint. You begin to crawl away, wanting to put some distance between the two of you while you take a breath, but he grabs your ankle, dragging you back toward him.

He draws his foot back, and despite knowing what’s coming, you don’t move in time, letting the toe of his shoe sink into your skin. You cough, the next few seconds are agonizing as you forget how to breathe, like a fish out of water.

“That’s enough.” Four’s voice breaks through the silence. “Get her out.”

“She’s still moving.” Eric tells him. “She gets out when she can no longer go on.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you move to roll over. You won’t play pretend, you refuse to take the easy way out. You are not an Erudite anymore, you won’t run. You’re going to fight.

Somehow you manage to get to your feet, fists raised, eyes barely focusing on Peter long enough to keep track of him. You gather the blood in your mouth, spitting it at his feet.

“Come at me, you little bitch.” You murmur.

Peter flies across the circle, fist coming at your face. You manage to catch it with one hand, and with the other, you slap him with an open palm. The sound of skin-on-skin fills the air, there’s a few audible gasps in the room.

It’s over, you think. Just before Peter knocks your lights out.

When you come back to Earth, you’re suspended in the air, swaying from side to side. You’ve never been motion sick before, but the dizziness is so hard to handle that this is enough to send you over the edge.

“‘M gonna be sick.” You mutter.

The world stops moving for a second, and then you’re placed on your feet. Your hands reach for something to hold on to as support. They come into contact with another hand, which you wrap your fingers around tightly as your breakfast comes back up as a liquid.

When you’re done, you turn to face the person who had just been holding you in their arms. You’re met with Four, who has his eyebrows raised, waiting for you to say something.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For putting me down.” You breathe, leaning over with your hands on your knees. “And for trying to get me out of there. And for delaying my fight yesterday.”

When you look at him again, there’s a softer look on his face, different from the scowl that you’re used to seeing. He reaches over, rubbing a hand over your back. “It’s okay, (Y/n).”

“You could’ve gotten in trouble with Eric.” You say, shaking your head as you move to stand straighter. “Why do you sacrifice so much for me?”

Four opens his mouth, and then closes it. It’s silent between the two of you for a minute as he decides how he wants to respond. Or maybe he’s thinking that you’ll change the subject. With your persistence, he sighs.

“Because you’re different.” 

--

this was part of my 3k celeberation!!

[noemilivv]

Hi 👋

Since I read your last Husk fic, still emotional reading that lol, I was wondering if I can make a Husk x reader request too?

Like a scenario where Husk has a crush on the reader who is mute and uses sign language to communicate. I would love a scenario where he learns how to sign to admit his feelings. With extra fluff and a kiss or two. 😘

Love your work and I can't wait to see what you put out next! 😊

hey christina!! sorry it took me so long to get to your request, writers block has been ughhh

i’m glad you enjoyed the last husk fic i put out, i wasn’t expecting anyone to get emotional, but nonetheless i’m glad you enjoyed XD

Husk x Mute!Reader

Romantic Headcanons

At first, he isn’t too sure how to start a conversation with you, especially due to the fact that your mute

He doesn’t know much sign language when he first meets you, or maybe even none at all, so most conversations you guys have at first are through text messages or written notes

Once you guys get to know eachother, it doesn’t take long for Husk to develop a soft spot for you, and he decides he wants to tell you that in a language you can understand

For a few weeks, he spends time gathering resources to learn some sign language, outside of the bits that you already taught him

And then, boom, it’s showtime!

You approach the bar with your phone in your hands, eager to talk to Husk again, you sit down, and before you get the chance to type something into your phone Husk looks at you and signs ‘I have something tell you.’

Your eyes widen, a bit shocked for a moment, Husk smirked at this, you had no idea Husk knew sign outside of the basics you had taught him, your recovery came fast though, ‘What is it?’ You ask.

Husk takes a moment to mentally prepare himself, before signing back to you, ‘I have feelings for you.’ He said, a soft smile on his face, as he awaited your response.

[mamirhodessxox]

Unpublished but future prompts in Ultra Violence

“I don’t love you Dexter.” “You can’t lie to me Piper. I know you like the back of my hand, Your like me. I’m like you. We’re soul tied.”-Dexter & Piper

“You say you hate him but I don’t think you do.” “I do hate him, I hate how he makes me feel, I hate how he makes me love him, I hate how he taught me to feel my emotions.”-Batista & Piper

“You don’t know me like You think you do.” “I do Dexter. I see you like a mirror, you think I can’t but I can. Just like you always say. We’re soul tied.”-Dexter & Piper

“Why do you do it? Why do you kill people?” “Because killing the messengers send a Message.”-Debra & Piper

“Congratulations. Your the #1 bitch of the year” “Congratulations. Your the #1 sluttiest distraction of the year.”-Alexa & Debra

“You know he doesn’t care about her anymore right?” “That’s what all dumb delusional girls say when they sleep with a man who’s still obsessed with his ex”-Alexa & Christin

“Is that a body?” “I got angry little mad..”-Dexter & Piper

“The hole in the wall is too tight to do anything.” “That’s what he said” “I hope you rot in your sleep.”-Dexter & Masuka

“IT’S A FUCKING CORPSE YOU’VE KILLED ONE BEFORE” “NOT A FUCKING FBI AGENT?”-Piper & Dexter

“Slut.” “Bitch your pussy stinks stop talking to me”-Alexa & Debra

“She loves you” “She tried killing me a week ago” “Young love.”-Christina & Dexter

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @mini-rollins @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @bones-rhodes @cococodysleevlesshoodie @edtomh @ihatecodyrhodes @ihatecodyrhodes @ayeeitsali @lisatommo28

[kscheibles]

e la vita ch. 1

content warnings: f! reader, drug mentions, drinking, emetophobia, bisexuality (homophobes and biphobes begone I will block u so fast)

word count: 3.8k

I didn’t want to be in Italy this summer.

That makes me sound ungrateful or something, but it’s the truth. Three months ago, I had planned to stay in Brooklyn with Claire all summer long. Hosting dinner parties, eating greasy breakfast sandwiches, dancing to old $1 records in our cramped apartment, picnicking in Prospect Park, and being totally, delusionally in love.

That was before things went south, she stopped trying and left me with more rent than I could possibly pay in the city. When Christina had first mentioned that a group of her friends was headed to Italy for the summer, I’d dismissed the possibility of going with them. Not only did I dread cohabitating with her wealthy, influencer friends who seemed to deal only in clout, I thought I’d be otherwise engaged. Weeks later, I’d gone back to her groveling, asking if I could sleep on the pull-out couch in Nina’s family villa for the summer. Luckily, the sofa was still available.

Now I sit at a wrought iron table – lease broken and all of my belongings sold to wealthy Manhattanites – in the warm yellow light of the Lombard sunset. Around me are chatty, outgoing girls, each more beautiful than the last. They gab about clubs and brands and boys. In the sea of Botox and iPhones, I cling to Christina like a life buoy. I push my tortellini around my plate to make it look like I have an interest in food, but I really don’t. I’m jet-lagged and uncomfortable. And even if that wasn’t the case, I’ve barely eaten since the breakup, relying on oat lattes and dirty water dogs to keep me alive.

“Try the pasta,” Christina jabs, “trust me, you’ll have a lot more fun this summer if you lean in.” I break the shell open with my fork revealing succulent ricotta curds and bright green spinach. The filing swims in a sauce of brown butter and fragrant tarragon but doesn’t affect me as it should. Nothing does anymore. The group’s conversation interrupts my train of thought.

“They’ve come every summer since the nineties, same as us,” says Nina, smirking at the girl to her left. “Hottest little accents you’ve ever heard, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Who is she talking about?” I whisper to Christina.

“The boys in the other house,” she says, “the one you see on your way up here.” Nina’s family’s home is at a higher altitude than the rest of the city, necessitating a laborious hike to the bottom to actually do anything while in town. I’m sure that they’d been sold on the privacy of the location, but its impracticality left me wanting. The only other villa nearby sat at the base of the lush green hills before the road disappeared into winding dirt.

Another girl chimes in, “I saw them last year at a dinner in the city. They’re cute, too,” she coos. 

“I kissed George the summer I turned fifteen,” brags Nina and the whole table breaks into oohs and aahs. I usually have a shut-up-unless-spoken-to policy at group dinners, but I know Christitna is right. If I don’t lean in then the credit card debt I’d amassed to buy my plane ticket and the back problems I'm sure to contract from sleeping on a pull-out couch for a whole summer will have been for naught. Think of it as an acting exercise, I tell myself, a performance of the girl who is totally not hung up on her ex and excited for a fun summer with her friends. 

“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, “who are these guys?”

“They’re in a band,” says Nina.

“Like a real one?” I ask. Years of living in New York have taught me that all bands are not, in fact, real ones. Nina laughs.

“You’re funny,” she muses, “yes, a real one. They’re like famous. We’ll go over eventually, they throw the best parties you can find around here. Get real drugs, too. Not just liters upon liters of Aperol, not that I mind that either.”

With my question sufficiently answered, I return quietly to my pasta, cutting each shell into impossibly smaller pieces until it’s rabbit food that will glide down my throat and do the hard job of nourishing me without any work on my part.

–

After dinner, I tuck into the pull-out couch in the villa’s spacious living room. The lack of A/C and the balmy summer air make it impossible to enjoy the luxurious wool blankets Nina’s family no doubt splurged on. I allow myself to eavesdrop on the elated sounds coming from upstairs: women confiding in each other, commiserating about their troubles, and shrieking excitedly at each other's successes.

I first try to doze off at 10:15, hoping that an early night will be exactly what I need and I’ll wake up refreshed and on Italian time. After an hour of staring at the popcorn ceilings and trying to suppress my crippling fear of missing out, I’ve tired my mind out enough to begin slipping toward sleep. I have fewer and fewer thoughts until I’m jolted by a hip-hop bassline. It resonates through the trundle bed and rebounds off my ribs, cozying itself into my heart. As I begin to come to, I recognize the chords of a house track that used to play at the girl bar Claire and I frequented in Green Point. The melody is warm and familiar and undeniably annoying. How loud must the music be for it to affect me so acutely even as I’m a few kilometers away from them? 

I decide I’m pissed – and yes I decided. I’m freshly single, broke, jet-lagged, and fucking pissed at those entitled rich assholes. I slide my sandals on and head out down the hill in my sleep clothes.

-

I step outside onto the winding dirt road that leads the way to the boys’ home. The night is dark, lit by stars much brighter than I’m used to seeing in Brooklyn. I tilt my head back to look at them, trying to identify the big dipper. After a few seconds, I’m dizzy. I shake myself and trudge ahead, almost lulled into submission by the constant chirping of cicadas and the sweet fragrance of orange blossom that wafts off the bushes. 

With each step I take towards the boys’ villa (what were their names again? Nina said one was called George), the music, electronic and fast-paced, becomes louder. 

When I first knock on the faded wood door, I’m quite sure no one has heard me. I stand outside for a few minutes, contemplating whether I should knock again or cut my losses and return up the hill. I decide I may as well disrupt their party as some kind of karmic retribution for keeping me awake even as I’m exhausted from a transatlantic flight. I raise my fist and rap harshly at the door. A moment later, it flies open, revealing a curly-haired boy. Well, not boy, I decide as I inspect his features – lines decorate his forehead, and gray peeks out at me from within a ringlet that hangs over his eyes. He gives me a once over and can immediately tell I’m not here for the party. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, annoyed. His accent lilts and falls over the words. All of a sudden, I feel insecure in my braless and plaid pajama-clad state. He’s beautiful – and exasperated by me. I double down on my own annoyance. 

“Would you mind turning the music down?” I ask, still cordial, “I’m staying at the house up the way and I can’t get to sleep.”

The guy in front of me purses his lips and considers me for a moment. I feel itchy and uncomfortable. He’s looking at me like he can see through my clothes, to my soft hips and painted toes and peaked nipples. 

“Let me show you around, gorgeous,” he smiles, “then maybe you won’t mind so much.” He grabs my wrist and yanks me into the party. A warmth covers me as I cross the threshold into the villa. The inside of the home smells like college: cheap weed, sweet sticky mixers, and sweat. My sandals stick slightly to the floor, reminding me that I really shouldn’t be here right now. Like the alcohol that’s been spilled on the ground is some great cosmic interference to convince me to go home and get the rest I ought to. 

Suddenly, a big hand falls on the shoulder of the boy who’s pulling me by my limbs.

“Matty!” says the man. I can make out enough to see that he’s tall and devastatingly handsome. 

“George!” the boy – Matty, I remind myself – drops my hand and fully embraces the bigger guy. “Was just showing…” he nods at me to introduce myself.

“Y/n.”

“Around,” Matty finishes. George gives me a once over.

“Did she just roll out of bed? Or get released from prison?”

“Y/n came to ask us to keep the noise down,” Matty declares with fake sincerity, “Not a partier, are ya love?”

“Under the right circumstances, I can be,” I retort. Matty and George’s eyebrows raise in amusement, faces breaking out in smiles. That sounded much more cunning in my head. Now I feel like a toy they’re playing with, winding me up to see what noises I make. It feels infantilizing. I’m uncomfortable, crawling in my skin; pride battered and desperate to go home as soon as it doesn’t look like I’m running away from a fight of my own picking. “I’d better be going actually,” I assert.

Matty puckers his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’ll show you out, princess.” It’s a sweet nickname but it tastes bitter out of his mouth. He seems to twist everything good and make it unbearable. I resent him for it. I trudge in front of Matty towards the door with steadfast focus. As I cross the threshold, I turn to meet his gaze.

“Thanks for nothing,” I say calmly. Matty breaks into a devilishly smug grin. His eyebrows tilt a little and his lips reveal a few crooked teeth at the bottom of his mouth.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” he says. I scoff and turn on my heels, leaving Matty in the dust.

–

The scent of freshly chopped garlic fills the kitchen as I stand in an assembly line of young women with cutting boards and chefs knives, each diligently chopping an ingredient for the bruschetta. 

In front of me is a bunch of basil, perfectly fresh and green. I gently remove the leaves from the stem and create a pile in the middle of my board. It reminds me of when I would be tasked with raking the leaves as a kid. Too distracted by my childish whims, I would create more work for myself by piling the leaves on top of each other and taking a grandiose dive into them before scooping them up into a trash bag and discarding them. Each leaf was like a piece of confetti, a celebration of the season and of youth. Now I do these things to prove to myself that I’m young and that I can still conjure up that imaginative, playful nature if I try hard enough. 

As I rock my knife back and forth over the soft leaves, Christina asks me where I was the night before. 

“I came out around eleven to invite you upstairs, but I couldn’t find you,” she says.

Embarrassed, I train my eyes to the task at hand. This is not the group to look like a tattle-tale in front of. Actually, there’s very few groups in which that would fly. My penchant for playing God and divvying out karmic consequences to everyone whose path I cross is a part of my nature I’m not particularly fond of. I’m not keen to share it, especially around people who are still making up their minds about me. Despite my steadfast beliefs and borderline-outlandish behaviors, I maintain a fervent desire to be liked. It’s pathetic. 

“I stepped out for some air,” I murmur.

“Really?” she nudges, “Because I didn’t see you on the porch.”

I turn my basil bunch 90 degrees in a flourish, beginning to chop it lengthwise. 

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because of the music,” I spit.

“And…” Christina has always been too good at getting me to reveal my true feelings. She goads me torturously until it’s easier to say what I’m thinking than to conceal it.

“And I went to ask them to turn the music down,” I finish, “There, are you happy?”

“Very,” she smiles. 

I pick up the chopped basil, letting the pieces float through my fingers and deciding I need to chop them smaller, still. I whack at the pile haphazardly, ruining the lovely squares I meticulously crafted earlier. 

“They didn’t turn it down, if you were wondering,” I pant, “Pricks.” Christina chuckles to herself.

“No one ever does.”

–

The music of the club is omnipresent as I enter hand in hand with Christina. On my feet are heels too high to be comfortable, but the perfect lift to accentuate my calves. As soon as I cross the threshold, I drag Christina to the bartender, ordering two negronis. We idle by the bar for a moment and I take in my surroundings, savoring the bitter aftertaste of my drink and the waltz of the lights that flicker and cover the dancefloor with reverie. I listen to the synths and flourishes of the melody that envelop my senses. I hadn’t expected to like the music, but the DJ is spinning disco and it just feels right: the cold Italian aperitif, the funky basslines, and the tranquil nighttime air. I almost wish I’d left my phone at home. Nights like these aren’t compatible with phones anyway. The atmosphere feels like a relic of a bygone era, full of free love and intoxication. 

Nina and a friend of hers find Christina and me at the bar and run up to us with inebriated bravado. “You guys made it!” she squeals. Little does she know we were pre-gaming at the villa in anticipation of this exact moment. I couldn’t handle Nina while sober tonight, that much I was absolutely sure of. It also didn’t help that I was alone – for the first time in several years – in a romantic foreign country without the girl whom I still loved. As unhealthy as it was, alcohol made that reality hurt a bit less. Nina grabs my hands and leads Christina and me away from the bar. 

“I need to introduce you to the DJs!” Nina exclaims. I glance at Christina to communicate that no, I’m not particularly enthused at the prospect of meeting some Eurotrash guy whose head is shaved and whose torso is covered in Gucci logos. She returns the glance, silently begging me to behave. I relent.

Nina leads us around the side of the floor to some kind of dark stairwell. Rationally, I should be scared of being kidnapped but my drunken stupor inspires more carelessness than I would usually indulge in. I watch the sway of Christina’s hips and follow her like a lost puppy. Finally, we reach the top and the DJ deck is revealed. It’s shadowy and hazy. To the left is a corner booth with a straight couple making out in a way that really ought to be illegal in public. Past the lookout, laser lights flicker and sweep across the dancefloor, catching on the artificial fog and filling the air with psychedelic color. My eyes fall on the backs of two figures at the DJ booth, smoke rising above their heads. I can make out that one has headphones on and is faffing with the turntable while the other has their hands in the air and the small, flickering glow of a lit cigarette dancing around their figure. I’m dragged towards them by Nina who throws an arm around each of their necks in greeting. As soon as the one with the cig turns around, I catch his eyes.

It’s Matty. Selfish, arrogant Matty. I nod my head and flatten my mouth in a kind of recognition. The room is spinning from the alcohol and my skin is buzzing with discomfort. The bass of the music resonates in my ribs, teaching my heart how to beat. My mouth tastes salty and my knees feel weak. 

I’m running to the corner where I can see a bin. Tears prick at my eyes and my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead as I swiftly empty the contents of my stomach into the small trash can. I kneel on the rough carpet and brace myself on either side of the bin with my hands. Between heaves, I lift my head to shake my hair off the back of my neck. The cool air feels grounding, but I’m soon back with my head in the can. I feel a hand on the back of my head, wrangling my frizzy hair off of my shoulders. I gasp, looking back for the sisterly comfort of Christina’s bottomless, cerulean eyes. Instead, I find a pair of brown, honey-flecked irises: Matty’s. I’m reeling too severely to be upset or confused; I’m just grateful when he uses his free hand to sweep my damp bangs out of my face and nods at me.

“Go on,” he encourages, “better out than in.”

I bury my head in the bucket again. 

“Atta girl,” Matty coos in my ear. I can almost notice his hand rubbing circles on my back. Even when I’m quite sure I’m finished, I keep my head down for a moment savoring the last few seconds that I don’t have to look Matty in the eyes. Curse him for helping me. I wouldn’t know how to interact with him under normal circumstances, much less when he’s been nice to me – and watched me unceremoniously blow chunks into a bin.

“You feel better?” he asks. I lift my head tentatively, still scared another wave of nausea will hit me. 

“I think so, yeah,” I mumble. Matty searches my eyes for any warning sign that I’m still sick.

“Have you got a hair tie?” I instinctually fish in my jeans pocket for one, handing it to him. Slowly, he corrals my locks into a ponytail and secures it, fingers grazing the tops of my ears and making me shiver. I sit back against the wall with my legs splayed out in front of me, knees visibly carpet burnt from my previous position. Matty flops down beside me. He reaches out to touch the red, irritated skin. 

“You don’t need a doctor or something, do you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I hiss when he applies a little pressure to my knee and shake his hands off me, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“When have I not been nice?”

“You wouldn’t turn the music down the other night,” I state. He smiles at me, eyes scrunching up until his pupils are totally obscured. 

“No one ever turns the music down,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus,” he adds, “I thought you were a buzzkill. Now I can see that’s not the case, sweetheart.”

“I can usually handle my drink better than this,” I protest, “And I’m also usually not a buzzkill.”

“I guess I don’t know anything about you, then,” he acquiesces, thinking for a moment, “Do you want to start over?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I nod, smiling tipsily.

“So what’s caused you to be sick tonight?” Matty asks, leaning his head back against the wall. His hair is curled up in perfect ringlets and his skin glows golden even in the dim club light. He looks at me carefully, like his stare could hurt me. It could, I suppose. 

“Alcohol?” I say it like that should be obvious. His face wrinkles up again in a laugh I can vaguely identify as something that’s my fault. He looks pretty. I realize I want to make him do it again and again forever. I want to see the crinkles that grow at the sides of his eyes and the curl of his upper lip that reveals his boyishly crooked teeth.

“I figured as much. Anything in particular that drove you to drink?” I frown for a second, trying to remember. 

“My ex,” I say quietly.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, “that’s the problem. She didn’t do anything.”

“When was that?”

“Two months ago?” My god, it’s already been two months.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs,  “that’s still fresh.” I shrug.

“It’s alright I guess. You just feel a little betrayed when someone stops trying. I thought that was the whole point of…” I trail off, gesticulating aimlessly with my hands, “love or whatever. To keep trying.”

“I get it,” he utters. 

“People stop trying with rockstars, too?” I tease. He smiles.

“How did you know that I’m a musician?”

“Well, first of all, I said rockstar–”

“Which I chose to ignore because it was sarcastic.” I roll my eyes.

“And second of all, the girls I’m staying with told me,” I finish. He nods in understanding.

“Well yeah,” he sighs pensively, “people stop trying with everybody. Even rockstars. If I’ve learnt anything in my life, it’s that giving up usually has more to do with them than it does with you.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I argue.

“Nothing does. You just have to let it hurt for a while.”

We’re both quiet for a second. I catch a couple of bars of an Earth, Wind, and Fire song and hum along, content with the silence. I let my head fall onto Matty’s shoulder and he immediately turns his head to look at me.

“Oh fuck, sorry. Is this okay?” I ask, hand flying to my mouth “I know I just puked.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “I just didn’t think you would want to.”

“I want to,” I kiss his shoulder through the cotton of his white button-up shirt. He watches me the whole time as though he can’t quite compute what’s happening. Then he snaps back to his regular confident state.

“Let me know if you ever want to deal with your girlf– ex without drinking your feelings away…” he trails off, mouth meeting the crown of my head, “I’d love to show you around here sometime.”

“Okay,” I mumble, the alcohol, tiredness, and emotions beginning to get the better of me and coax me toward sleep.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Matty grabs my hand from my lap and wraps it in his two larger ones, caressing my thumb and humming into my ear.

–

a/n: the next bit is written, but I am still writing the end. smut soon! x

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

A witty and deeply romantic modern reimagining of Disney’s Tangled, by the New York Times bestselling author duo Christina Lauren, part of the acclaimed and bestselling Meant to Be collection. "I dare you to not fall wildly in love with Ren and Fitz! Christina Lauren as a writing duo is a national treasure." — Jesse Q. Sutanto, National Bestselling author of DIAL A FOR AUNTIES and VERA WONG'S UNSOLICITED ADVICE FOR MURDERERS

She has a dream. He has a plan. Together they’ll take a leap of faith.

Ren has never held an iPhone, googled the answer to a question, or followed a crush on social media. What she has done: Read a book or two, or three (okay, hundreds). Taught herself to paint. Built a working wind power system from scratch. But for all the books she’s read, Ren has never found one that’s taught a woman raised on a homestead and off the grid for most of her twenty-two years how to live in the real world. So when she finally achieves her lifelong dream of attending Corona College, it feels like her life is finally beginning.

Fitz has the rest of his life mapped out: Graduate from Corona at the top of his class, get his criminal record wiped clean, and pass himself off as the rich, handsome player everyone thinks he is. He’s a few short months from checking off step one of his plans when Ren Gylden, with her cascading blonde hair and encyclopedic brain, crashes into his life, and for the first time Fitz’s plan is in jeopardy.

But a simple assignment in their immunology seminar changes the course of both their lives, and suddenly they’re thrown out of the frying pan and into the fireon a road trip that will lead them in the most unexpected directions. Out on the open road, the world somehow shifts, and the unlikely pair realize that, maybe, the key to the dreams they've both been chasing have been sitting next to them the whole time.

Review:

A modern day retake on Tangled?! I am all in (and it was so cute!!). Ren is a girl who has been homeschooled her entire life and kept away from people, technology, and everything in between ... but now she is finally getting her chance to be in the real world and starting her first class at Corona College. Fitz has spent his life playing the part, pretending to be the most charming, wealthy, and attractive guy around, his entire life has been mapped out and he's determined to keep it that way... or he was until a certain ball of sunshine completely takes him off his tracks. Ren and Fitz end up in the same class and when Ren discovers that her family isn't really her family and that her DNA matches someone else, she is determined to go meet him, and when she catches Fitz cheating she makes a deal: she wont tell on him if he takes her to meet her biological father. Fitz hopes that he can just take her on the trip and get her out of his hair as fast as possible... but the more time they spend together the more he's beginning to realize that he is very much tangled up in her. Ren is everything Fitz's isnt, she's so true to herself, so kind and honest, and unjaded... and if he wants to make a relationship with her it means he'll have to take off his persona and truly let her in to know him or risk losing the only girl who has actually ever seen him. Oh I had an absolute blast with this book!! I love Tangled so much so hearing that it got a modern day romance remake I couldn't wait to pick it up! It's absolutely such a fun read and and I think the authors did a fantastic job of keeping the elements of the original story while adding their own take on it. The romance was really well done and I just fell in love with both characters! I would highly HIGHLY recommend this book to anyone who is a fan of the movie!

Release Date: June 25, 2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Hyperion Avenue for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[blueboyluca]

Lately I've been feeling a huge need for emotionally intelligent, empathetic and thoughtful content about dog training and care. I feel very fragile at the moment and this sort of thing, while also kind of painful in a way, has been helping me be forgiving to myself and understanding to the dogs in my life. I can't get my thoughts straight to write out anything in detail, but I can share the resources themselves.

This episode was soothing. Christina is a beautiful and gentle speaker and her insights are incredibly valuable. I appreciate her desire to stay out of the limelight, but I do wish I had regular access to her thoughts so it's a bit of a shame she doesn't do social media or anything like that.

Choice quote: "Oftentimes I want to raise my hand and be like, can we evaluate this carceral mindset? And I get looks and I think, cool, not the time, not the place. This is not the space, like, shift gears, let it go, try something else."

This post was a really useful reflection tool. I don't identify as a crossover trainer, since I never trained dogs before, but I still relate because I was raised in a punishment first society regardless of dogs. Even as someone who came to dog training committed to R+ from the outset, it still takes rewiring and relearning and reconfiguring to not default to punishment.

Choice quote: "We humans believe that anger is an appropriate response to being wronged. I agree. There is a lot in this world to be enraged about. The problem is directing that rage at dogs and other beings we control. We are encouraged to believe that dogs are morally wronging us, and that appropriate responses are anger and punishment."

I found so much value in this two-part podcast from Animal Training Academy with Michele Pouliot. She had so much wisdom about how to effectively help people and change minds. And sometimes that means being frustrated.

Choice quote: "When we start working with a dog that's never had positive reinforcement training before, you're right, what's the first thing we do? We build a reinforcement history so that dog trusts us, enjoys being around us, and as soon as we have that relationship we can ask more of them... just because a person called you and made the appointment doesn't mean you have a relationship yet... It's the same as training the dog, you have to build the history."

I'd love to find some more media like these. I've been downloading a bunch of new dog books again, but so far none of them are quite scratching the itch I've got. I wish I could read something like The Secret History of Kindness again, that was one of those rare books that had a profound impact on me.

[bethpencilart]

Do you remember the ending of the episode, "Love", where Bloberta is scrubbing a chicken that looks like it's already been cooked? Cause I do. I can not cook to save my life, but I don't think you're supposed to do that.

My last attempt at being funny, I swear. This is meant to take place very soon after they start living together.

Christina: You need any help with- What are you doing?!

Orel: I'm almost done with dinner

Christina: But why are you dunking it in water?

Orel: I'm just cleaning it.

Christina: ...What?

Orel: to make it not filthy. Like mom taught me.

Christina: please don't lie to me.

Orel: I'm not!

Christina: call her.

Orel: Hey mom... I just need to confirm something... What did you say about cleaning food

Bloberta: oh, yes. You must scrub the main part of the meal before and after cooking it. You have no idea how filthy the oven is.

Orel: thanks mom.

Christina: *is shocked and confused*

[scarabjewels]

What Mad Girl Movies Taught Me:

Never Be Like Me

(Lessons From Helter Skelter and Black Swan)

Beauty and perfectionism has been ingrained to how we build our self identity, social acceptability and self worth. This just has to stop. So here I am, sharing my opinions and experience, in hopes that someone who is struggling the same way finds this and say " wow, I am enough. The world is just fucked up".

Let's get on to it as I dissect the moral lessons two beloved movies of mad women we can all learn from.

Helter Skelter: Beauty As A Trend is Never Achievable

I have noticed how fucked up body trends are, in all known genders yes, but especially the heterosexual ones.

It really is so fucked up how it is normal to treat the body like a moldable accessory, when it's literally what works hard keep you alive because it is you! In just a span of a decade from 2015 to 2024, the trends over body aesthetics is crazy. I can tell you that sexism and ingrained toxicity in social constructs are alive and maybe even so flourishing with globalisation, whilst civil wars are coexisting. It's crazy (but that's another conversation).

Lately, another wave of Heroin Chic is hitting the influencer network, this wave has been a long time coming, especially during and after the pandemic. People have been trying to get healthy, yes, but for the wrong reasons, so much so that people just try to look healthy when in fact they got there from the artificial place.

Just around mid-2010, big ass and a tiny waist were all the rage. Yes, it opened up the door to the body types acceptance but also glamorized it, too much. Then by 2020, healthy body figures became the rage again: abs, toned muscles and no fat. Interestingly, body positivity also came along with the trend, opening the new target audience in markets: the plus size. Here we are at mid 2020, where heroine chic came back, along with toned look. The influence of this trend came with the build of many celebrities losing weight, such as Kim Kardashian removing her buttlift, Christina Aguilera looking like she was in her early 20s again, Nikoavokado coming back with relatively a drastically changed body and many more.

I will be honest that I accidentally jumped into this trend train. I lost weight drastically in a span of 6 months, due to self harming habits. (Please be warned of the terms I am using to describe what happened to me, I did not get diagnosed, even when it is very obvious what is happening to me). Ever since I was younger, I unconsciously trained myself to not eat when I am upset which led to repercussions I am yet to recover from. My weight would fluctuate all the time as a teenager and even now as an adult, as I get upset for longer periods of time, and the stress of that period still stays even after I feel better. So my eating habits would have split days of completely normal times to eat or literally starving because I slept in the whole day, that is my journey right now which is actually quite better than before. I would be physically incapable of even digesting food properly, my stomach would reject just the thought of eating again, which would only happen if I try to eat outside of the house (very specific I know), yet I would eat just fine at home. I couldn't eat because it would literally hurt. It was the worst periods of my life honestly. I couldn't function well, I couldn't sleep , one time I fainted at work from extreme fatigue.

Needless to say, I lost too much weight. Not skin -bone, but a drastic comparison from before. I am not happy, I am not moving much, and I feel like I am not enough, because now I am developing body dysmorphia. I was fine when I was a little over weight, I am jolly, active and full of life (not all the time, but most is pretty good!) I moved a lot, I am talking about long walks and trekking, and it was just for FUN. I loved it. Now, I can barely move and at age 22, my bones would "pop" or "creak" just from an occasional stretch or kneeling.

Look at what happened to the patients of the clinic where Lilico and other people were obsessed with beauty. Suicide, because they couldn't afford to lose their new look. They would rather die beautiful than live. Lilico is fucked up in her own way, yet her actions' main motivation is because of the delicious power she has from her perfected beautiful appearance. Fame, a rich guy who is obsessed with her, money, easy manipulation of others. She wanted it all. She wants to be what everyone wants, and just from her monologues, you can tell she hated every single minute of it, especially in the manga. She treated herself like a perfect product no one should ever dare to one up, yet she knew she was just a product, that her market value will end eventually. That girl went bat shit crazy. She was addicted to the good stuff her socially praised beauty was. It is obviously not worth it!

Oh here is one too: ageism. Look, it is well and alive before so is today. The amount of males who told me women have a ticking clock of attractiveness is frustratingly high and even exists in younger generations. Age is the number of years you have been alive on this earth, not a set of intervals of attractiveness.

Like what the detective said: "Youth is beautiful but not inherently beauty". You know what you get with age? Wisdom, even more beauty, journeys of epics and living life to the fullest.

Look at the Golden Girls. If you ever have a chance to watch that show, you find that dating at an older age is great and sometimes rocky, like any type of dating. Their age in that show is supposed to be around 50 to 60, and they were ACTIVELY DATING. They even tackled the insecurities of being older, having wrinkles, a hanging stomach, and being unattractive, and it is always countered. It isn't true what they say, that you are attractive at only a certain age. Honestly, I prefer the type of dating in an older age. You MOSTLY know what you want from the other, and because you have gone through a lot already, it's faster to move on. Also, these ladies mostly dated men AROUND THEIR AGE. Now, this is important too. Males have told me that men just age better with time, and that's not true at all. It depends heavily on each individual, irregardless of age and gender. The Golden Girls dated handsome men, overweight men, men of different races and religions, average men, etc. They like to get to know the person (Blanch, though, is so hyperactive, so maybe not always getting to know them for who they are, but she does value traditional dating) because that is way more valuable than their looks.

Lilico didn't even like anyone, not even herself. Probably just her sister, she loves her but well she is Lilico so toxic af. Sex is not even making love to her, it's a business transaction, a tool for manipulation, and a means to an end. That's fucked up.

Let's this be a cautionary tale: achieving society's beauty will never be worth it.

I discussed said toxic beauty standards. Now, let's move one ahead with the toxicity of perfectionism.

Black Swan: There is No "Perfect"

Perfect? No, she was brilliant, but she was never "perfect". Perfectionism is so toxic in itself already, I know because I used to participate in it too.

I wanted to be perfect in writing the best, it didn't matter to me if I was not on the top ten highest grades in class, as long as I am the best in that one thing I am good at. However, my story is not close enough to Nina's extremely perfectionist behaviour, so I will share one that is closer to that tale as well as the point the movie and I am trying to make.

I am Asian (Filipino) and just from above, I can say that that really is the school system here, yes being a nerd is normal and being the TOP NERD was so important, I saw people broke down because they didn't win at a class competition. Toxic, right? Self-worth was associated with how good you are at academics and those over-achieving people envy others who had it easy. I was one of those who didn't struggle with academics as much, I got good grades , even when I didn't study. University did humble me, of course. Still, it doesn't bother me if I got a bad grade or a good grade. But the comments I hear from the one who worked hard to be "the best", damn. I once had a classmate who really wanted the best record in her academics. She was obsessed with it. Losing sleep, losing patience, and losing her mental health, basically. I did ask her once when she was stressing about not getting in a higher rank in the top ten, I asked her : "Does it matter?"I didn't mean it as a serious thing, but it came out like that because she replied,"It matters to me. " The tone was "I want to win." Look, her hardworking personality is ENOUGH to get her a job (she really wanted a job to get out of the house), I just wish she wasn't stressing out about winning so much. Back then, I remember her being in a bad mood, because she didn't sleep working on a project or she had a bad group mate (to be fair to her, everyone hated that person for good reason). She was ENOUGH, and I hope she sees that about herself now.

I think sacrifice is discussed a lot when talking about toxic perfectionism but behaviour from the get go isn't talked about enough.

Nina Sawyers is an example of the bad behaviour of any toxic perfectionist. She would do ANYTHING to get to the top. She tried to seduce the director to get the part she wanted, she would sabotage Lily who was friendly to her all through out as a person wanting to steal her part, she would do anything that it literally messed with her head, that her fate was her karma. She was jealous, envious and had no GOOD DAY unless SHE WAS THE PERFECT ONE. She loved the praise but couldn't handle anything less.

Nina needs to cut her mother out of her life, go out and actually have fun, and have friends who she doesn't see as competition. She needs to be friends with her peers of the same interest, too. God, that girl has no friends. She is too busy with her craft, and also, her mom is overbearing, which probably drove her to isolate from others.

One other thing, like in Helter Skelter, Nina sees her skill as a marketable tool that puts her above the rest, which is also why she is so paranoid when the director keeps comparing her to Lily, feeling threatened to be replaced. The director is an asshole, but it is pretty clear that those comparisons were meant to constructive criticism, though he needed to work on that bad delivery, also I think he was unconsciously and consciously manipulative of his muses in general. The past "Oddette", before Nina, probably experienced all the build-up paranoia that led her to extreme actions such as aggressively confronting Nina and stabbing herself in the face.

No person should ever feel like they are replaceable because they are worthless. No one should ever feel like they have to be the best because that's the only way that makes them worthy. You are worthy, nonetheless of your skill.

The Conclusion: You Are Never Enough For Them, You Are Enough For You

I know I discussed Nina and Lilico as cautionary tales, but we also to acknowledge the society that drove them to that point. We, as a society, glamorize the best of what we see: skill, craft, art, beauty, age and etc. We failed to acknowledge that we are putting impossible pedestals on them. We treat "good" things as if that is what should be good. We really failed to SEE BEAUTY AND GOOD IN OTHER THINGS.

Lilico was bullied for being fat, fetishised for being fat, and praised for being perfectly beautiful. Then, she is shamed for her past.

Society really ruined her.

As for Nina, she was always praised for being perfect, yet she had no friends because she saw them as a competition. Her over bearing mother would put her down (I saw more moments of her downplaying her skill, though in hindsight, rather than actually celebrating and supporting) .That is a factor as to why she thrived in praise so much in ballet. That is where she could be loved and FREE.

Her mother failed her, and the perfectionism ruined her.

Do not ever go to that point where you find yourself going crazy over an unreachable height. Be kind to yourself, so someone is comparing to other people? wow, aren't they someone who notices too much, that person has no life to live. Also, don't do that to yourself, don't be the loser who always looks down on others, who compares themselves to greater people because they are not enough, that is not a habit you want lingering.

I also was a person who compared themselves often to others, guess where I got that from? My flesh and blood: my mother. I still remember it, she compared me to a good friend of mine and it led me to compare myself to everyone. It was ONE passive-aggressive comment. I hated it so much, and I never did that to anyone.

I learned that I hated that feeling whenever someone does it to themselves or others to that to me, I take offence and say that that is such a sorry way to think then I realized I was like that. I had friends like that, and guess what? the Habit is still here, but I now combat it because I have no friends who do that to themsleves or others. I was done with that mentality.

I don't like it, so why should I linger in that energy?

Now, I implore you to really look at the bigger picture, think and do what is truly best for you, no matter what others say.

[nerdferatum]

Books recommendations

Thank you for the tag, @veeples ! I have a few books to add to my TBR now thanks to your post.

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @plasticdodecagon and @lookingforsomethingcuzimbored

1. The last book I read:

More days at the Morisaki Bookshop, by Satoshi Yagisawa. I really enjoyed the first book, but unfortunately this one didn't hit the same. I'm also blaming the translation, which was weird and definitely made some choices. Most people reviewing it seem to like it even more than the first one, though.

2. A book I recommend:

This is how you lose the time war by Amal El-Mohtar. It's such an emotional story. I really liked how the author uses common techniques and tropes in such a unique way that I finish the book knowing that no other book would feel the same. I often struggle to connect with the characters in epistolary literature, but this book is one of the few exceptions. And the world building is incredible.

3. A book that I couldn’t put down:

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. I have to agree with Vee, Six of Crows (and the sequel, Crooked Kingdom) are such fun reads. You have fantasy, heists, humour, realistic romances... It was the first time reading a book about teenagers as an adult that I thought that only a bunch of problematic teens could pull this off.

4. A book I’ve read twice (or more):

Dracula, by Bram Stocker. If you are into fantasy and want to read a classic, you should read Dracula. As much as I also love Carmilla, knowing what we do about vampires, seeing how much of Dracula has impregnated our pop culture, this book is almost a comedy. Don't get me wrong, it is scary and there is more gore that I would have assumed for my first read, but it's almost better when you already know what's going on. And seeing the source of our current vampire knowledge (or most of it) is very interesting. Also there's a cowboy.

5. A book on my TBR:

Stone butch blues, by Leslie Feinberg. I've seen it recommended everywhere by older queer people, but it was never in stock. So when I saw it a couple moths ago, I had to buy it, and this time it's not only going into my collection, I plan to read it.

6. A book I’ve put down:

Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie. I don't like not finishing books. Even when I don't like them, I try to finish them so I can complain properly. I couldn't do that with this one and it pains me because I love Agatha Christie. I've read all the books available in my library. I tried to read it after the movie came out and was so disappointed. Maybe it was the digital format that took me out of the story, but it hasn't happened with any other Christie book. It was so slow and I couldn't get invested.

7. A book on my wishlist:

Señoras ilustres que se empotraron hace mucho tiempo, by Christina Domenech. The translation would be "Fancy ladies who banged a long time ago". It's an illustrated book about historical sapphic women throughout history. I have the two other books by this author, and her sense of humour mixed with the respect towards these women and the emotionality of finding yourself everywhere in history are such a good combination. I don't think they have been translated to English, but if anyone understands spanish, they should consider a read. The only reason why I don't own this one yet is because illustrated books are so expensive that I haven't come up with an excuse yet.

8. A favorite book from my childhood:

Kika Superwitch, by Knister. I can't choose one because all of them were so important to me as a kid. I wanted to be Kika so badly. She was incredibly cool and brave on top of being a modern witch. I also loved the little tricks at the end of the books when they taught you how to do "magic" with ordinary tools and ingredients. I still have all of them.

9. A book you would give to a friend:

The adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty. I don't have a particular reason aside from knowing that my friend will love this book because I loved this book. It isn't the type of fantasy we are used to see here, so I think she will appreciate the change.

10. A book of poetry or lyrics you own:

Rhymes and Legends by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer. I have stupid beef with this man, but he has a unique way of create the atmosphere for his stories. He will transport you to that place.

11. A nonfiction book you own:

Señoras que se empotraron hace mucho by Christina Domenech. Sorry, I don't read too much non-fiction. These two books became my favourite when for one entry, the author introduced a writer by saying they didn't the world to intrude into their life, so she wouldn't tell us their story. The project started as curiosity from a literature student who never saw herself in the stories and people talked about in class, so she started her own research. Still, she decided to respect the privacy of this person because, even if they lived a long time ago, they still deserved our respect.

12. What are you currently reading:

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater. It's actually a buddy read and I'm so curious about this re-read. It's been ten years since I read the series for the first time and it's been fun to see what 18-year-old me decided to underline or how I've changed my mind about certain things.

13. What are you planning on reading next:

Either the next Raven Cycle book or The Flood by Michael McDowell. I don't know if it's been just a local thing, but this series blew up a few weeks ago, everyone is so excited and I finally got the first one as a gift. So here we go.

[wandafiction]

Family - Just Us Chapter 44

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2686

Series List | Chapter 43 | Chapter 45

================================

"I love you nugget. I will see you later, yeah?" Morgan nods frantically with a wide smile on her face.

"Yes please sissy! We still need to do film night!" She hugs me tightly and I give her a small squeeze before planting a kiss on her forehead. 

"We do indeed. Right, go with Papa T and I will see you soon."

"I love you 3000 Y/n." I feel the tears sting my eyes at her words.

"I love you to nugget." She climbs off the bed, grabbing Tony and Pepper's hand walking in the middle of the two of them as she drags them out of the hospital room. I then turn to look at Carol.

"Are you going to be okay?" I hate making her worry, but that will never stop because she is my sister.

"Go be with your wife and child, before they think you've ditched them for me." Carol huffs out a laugh. "Oh and say hi to that stupid cat of yours."

"It's not stupid Y/n, it just doesn't like you." I hold a hand to my heart.

"Oof. What's not to like about me?" Carol raises a playful eyebrow towards me, so I grab the pillow from behind me and Wanda and chuck it at her, making the other two women who haven't left my side laugh out. 

"Rude."

"You love me."

"I guess." Before I can grab something to throw at her she rushes out of the door and looks through the pane of glass where she receives a middle finger from me, and she gives one right back in return. When she disappears my phone goes off.

Carol: Love you bitch.

Me: Yeah, Yeah. I love you too.

I lock my phone and place it on the bedside table, the room is engulfed in the most silence it has been in a few hours. After the questioning by Christina, we continued to talk about the legal proceedings and how my case is the cherry on the top in getting rid of ultron. I should probably explain a few things so you are all caught up too.

So I bet you are wondering what does Carl have to do with this? Well Carl is the son of Baron Zemo, yes that Zemo. Zemo and his wife could have been the next leaders of Sokovia and they would have been the best there was, they would have been able to create something good out of their ruling. Anyway, Ultron managed to scare them off by doubling his troops and creating fake propaganda. He was also able to get a hit on his son, Carl, the same boy I saved. He hired someone to kill the kid. Fortunately, I was there when this went down and was able to use my basic skills that Dr Cho had taught me to keep him alive until we could get him safely to hospital. 

When Zemo and his wife came to see him, they were still in hiding and I promised them I would make sure he was okay. I never break a promise. So that's why he stays with the woman at the coven café, hiding him in plain sight. I paid off all his medical bills so nothing could be traced to Zemo. Shield have been after Ultron since he came to power but they never had enough evidence behind them to put him away, he did a good job at hiding the fact he put a hit on a child. Even though everyone knows it was him. It seems that he did something wrong when covering his tracks up with the murder of my wife and child so now Shield has the authority from the UN to put him behind bars for good. This also means that Zemo will finally be able to make something good out of Sokovia. Let's just hope he can lead a country better than he can dance.

So yeah I kind of have a crazy back story, doesn't everyone in these types of stories? Doesn't it give me some humanity and something you guys can hold onto and I don't know, come up with theories?

"Baby?" Wanda's voice pulls me out of my world and I hum in acknowledgement to her voice. "Where did you go? I've been trying to gain your attention the past few minutes."

"Sorry I was away with the fairies, just thinking over everything that's happened today." Damn you fairies. 

"Well I was just going to ask if you were up for two more visitors?" 

"Sure princess." Wanda nods at Nat who comes and gives me a hug whispering in my ear.

"You have my number if you need anything." 

"Thank you." Natasha leaves the room, I'm assuming to go get our other guests. Wanda moves around on the bed, shuffling her body down the bed so her legs intertwine with mine and her head comes to rest in my lap as I am still sitting up against the head of the bed. She wraps one arm around my waist, while the other bends and she moves her head to use it as a pillow on my lap, her hands drawing small circles with her index fingers. 

"I'm sorry you went through all that Y/n. I know sorry doesn't offer much, but I truly am sorry that you have been through much hurt at such a young age." I can hear the sadness in her voice and when I look down at her I see the small pout on her lips.

"We all go through stuff Wanda, some people experience it over their lifetime and some people experience it close together. But we all experience hurt and heartbreak. It's just the way of life. I've come to understand that those sorts of things are out of control, even when I think they aren't. I know I can't control what is not in my hands." 

"Your therapy session seems to be helping already." 

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you said it was out of your control when earlier you couldn't help but pin the blame to yourself." Wanda's head turns in my lap to look up at me and I give her a smile and she beams up at me.

"That's because I know it's true. I don't blame myself anymore, not in my heart but when I have flashbacks that bad my brain takes time to reboot as I like to call it to remember the work I have put in to make it catch up with my heart." 

"That makes sense. Can I have a kiss?" She puckers her lips as I laugh at her goofiness as I lean down our lips touching in a gentle kiss. When I sit back up she rubs her lips together savouring the moment.

"You never have to ask for a kiss Wanda?" 

"Yeah but it's fun to hear you laugh about it. I love your laugh." Her nose scrunches as I laugh out some more and I can feel her whole body snuggle closer to me. 

There is a small knock on the door and when I look up through the pane of glass I can't see anyone which makes me scrunch my eyebrows. Wanda seems to know who is out there though as she giggles and tells them to come in. I light up with a huge smile on my face as the twins enter the room, closing the door gently being them. When I see the both of them make their way to the chairs in the room, I pat the bed instead telling them to join me and Wanda. I bring my legs up to sit criss-cross applesauce, but Wanda remains in her position obviously comfortable and content with where she is. 

"How are you feeling Y/n?" Billy asks as he sits down towards the end of the bed looking between me and Wanda with soft eyes.

"Better thank you Billy. You guys didn't have to come but I'm grateful you did." Tommy climbs up next to me, sitting against the head of the bed with me and I wrap a protective arm around his shoulders as his head rests against my shoulder.

"Of course we did. When we heard you were in hospital we wanted to come straight away, but thought it best that you see your family first. When Sharon let us know that you were awake we finished our game and came straight here." I pull Tommy closer and pat the space in front of me to signal Billy to come closer. He sits criss-cross applesauce right in front of me, our knees almost touching, Wanda's arm that was around my waist moves to drape over Billy's legs. I lean forward grabbing onto one of Billy's hands, and Wanda instantly places her hand on top as they all rest on Billy's knee. 

"You boys are so thoughtful, kind and caring. In the few days that I've known you I can see that, and I feel that. You have an amazing mom and you are two amazing children. There is just so much love that you three share and I'm in awe everytime I see it. I just need you to know that I care about you guys too, and I will do anything for you guys. Okay?" 

Wanda plants a kiss on my leg squeezing the small group of hands together and Tommy snuggles closer to me. It makes me smile wide and I can feel Wanda smiling too and I'm sure her nose is scrunched.

"Y/n?" There is a shyness to Tommy's voice, so I gently turn to look at him and he seems to shy away at the three pairs of eyes on him when he looks at Wanda and Billy.

"What's up Tommy." I keep my voice calm and collected, whatever he wants to ask he is nervous. 

"I know that we have only known you for like 4 days since we met on Friday, but after this weekend I have to ask something."

"You can ask me anything you want Tommy."

"Are we like a family now?" I smile at his question and internally scream with joy.

"If that's what you and Billy want."

"It's what I want." Tommy looks up to his brother for approval and Billy looks between me and him with a huge toothy smile on his face.

"So is this, like how we make this family official? Just say yes, because if so then yeah I love that it's the four of us." Billy says excitedly.

"The four of us against the world!" Tommy waves his arms about in the air to emphasize his point. "Is that okay mama?" 

"I love you two boys and I love Y/n, so I absolutely love the idea of having us as one big family." I lean down to kiss the side of Wanda's head and the boys cover their eyes jokingly.

"My poor eyes. I'm blinded!" Billy falls back, allowing his back to hit the bed as he pretends to be hurt. All it does is give me the perfect opportunity.

I quickly lean forward bringing my hands to his tummy and start to tickle him. His body wiggles underneath me as he arms flail about trying to get me off, but his giggles echo around the room. His brother teams up with me as he starts tickling Billy's side, Wanda sits up laughing at the site. Her smile grows bigger as she moves to hover her face over his and brings it down to leave a kiss on his forehead. 

"Mwuah." Kiss on the cheek. "Mwuah." Kiss on the nose. "Mwauh." Another Kiss on his forehead. 

We keep up the torment until he is telling us to stop, so we all pull back but his body is still squirming and his laughs don't die out for a while. Once he calms down and catches his breath he sits up and looks between the three of us with a small pout on his face.

"That was mean, my lungs hurt." He crosses his arms trying to act angry but I can see the smile on his face growing.

"Aww you love us really." Wanda coos at him like a little baby earning an eye roll from Billy.

"Yes I do." Billy replies without hesitation. "I love you all."

"We love you too Bill." His brother pokes his tongue at him.

"Yeah no I lied, I love 2 out of 3 of you. Sorry Tommy, but calling me Bill gets you left out of the club." My heart skips a beat at his words but I hide my elation at his words but Wanda can't hide hers. 

"So that means you love Y/n?" Billy simply rolls his eyes at his mother's question.

"Of course I do. She loves you, she makes you happy and we get on with her and we want to hang out with her more so yeah. I love all my family." He points at Tommy. "I will let it slide this time because Mama's going all sappy."

"Awww is Mama sappy at the fact we all love each other dearly." Tommy mocks her, earning a light smack to his leg by Wanda.

"It's okay Wanda I love you the most, but the boys are a close second." I see Wanda's hand move but hesitate from hitting my leg as she turns to look up at me with unsure eyes. "You're allowed, it's just when it comes close to my face or leaves my peripheral vision."

"So hitting your legs is okay?" I know Wanda is concerned but I can't help but wiggle my eyebrows at her and the boys scrunch their faces in disgust.

"Sorry! Yes you are allowed to playfully smack my leg when I'm being sarcastic." 

"Okay good." Her hand makes contact with my leg and all four of us laugh together at Wanda's child-like behaviour.

"So now that we are a family. Can we do family Halloween costumes this year and maybe a family holiday or something?" Billy asks, as Wanda settles her head back into my lap.

"I like that idea. What do you two think?" I turn to look at Billy and Wanda who are both smiling.

"Please mama! We can go on a small holiday and then come back for Halloween night!" Tommy leans forward slightly so Wanda can see his puppy dog eyes.

"Where would you guys like to go?" The boys celebrate as Wanda all but agrees to the idea.

"I didn't get that far ahead." Billy shrugs his shoulders.

"So, this is just an idea and your mom has to ok the idea. If she says no, then we can figure something else out." Wanda looks up at me from my lap, raising her eyebrows in question. "I do have that cabin Wanda."

"Oh right. Are you sure it would be okay to go there?" 

"Of course. We bought the place a few years ago, but I haven't really used it in a while. We can fly out and rent a car. Maybe go for the week and come back for the weekend of Halloween." Wanda hums in thought then looks to her boys.

"What do you two think about spending a week in the Canadian wilderness in Y/n's cabin?" Both boys bounce excitedly on the bed.

"Yes please!"

"Yes, that sounds really cool!"

"Well I guess we have a plan for the school half term."

"Just make sure you okay it with their dad, I don't want to take them to another country without him knowing." 

"I will baby." 

"Okay so what do you want to do for the rest of the night boys, as I am being discharged in the next hour." 

"Can we just have a family night on the couch again like yesterday." Tommy asks.

"Yeah what Tommy said, I just want a lazy night with you guys." 

"Sounds good to me. What about you princess?"

"Family night on the couch sounds good to me."

================================

[amtrak12]

Hey hi! I read your Helena Wells meta earlier, from ten years ago, and I found it so interesting and spot on, and at the end you were so sad that you felt like you didn't have a good grasp on the character - do you feel that has changed, since then? And if so, how? Or, what do you think of Helena these days?

(the meta you posted and linked here: https://www.tumblr.com/purlturtle/736985181321314304/your-helena-tangent-got-me-thinking-and-yes-this )

Oooo fun and deep questions! :D Thank you!!

Obviously, that was 2.5 high schools ago so I had to reread my original meta to refresh my memory. My first thought is: OMFG LEARN PARAGRAPH BREAKS!! O_O But then, as I kept reading and saw how many spaces were missing after periods and how the sentences after the missing space read like a new paragraph -- my second thought is, I think Tumblr did me dirty at some point in the last 10 years of formatting changes and I actually did use appropriate paragraph breaks originally. Rude. -_-

But on the point of your actual questions! lol

I don't remember writing that exact post, but being nervous and uncertain about my Helena characterization does ring a bell. I was DEFINITELY more confident in analyzing/meta-ing Myka or Pete (if it was in relation to Myka). HG made me nervous and that was only like 10% because she's British and I'm American.

Some of my uncertainty probably came from my lack of historical knowledge (which has not improved. Fun fact: this is why I nearly never invented an artifact for fic). A not-insignificant portion of my uncertainty probably also came from how confident the rest of the fandom spoke about Helena. It seemed like she was meta-ed more often and by more people than Myka was. (Which makes sense as -- in general -- Helena was/probably still is the more popular character in the B&W ship.) I don't remember ever feeling like someone was way off base or out of character with Helena, but I do remember reading meta/fic sometimes and struggling to decide if I disagreed with a character trait/action that the person assigned her or if it was an accurate aspect of Helena's character that I hadn't internalized yet.

Basically I had Opinions about how Myka (and Pete for that matter) should be written and definitely noticed when a fic disagreed with me. But figuring out HG was like the wild west to me and I could never pin her down with firm barriers on who her character is and isn't.

I am very, very rusty on my Warehouse 13 knowledge because it's been nearly a decade since I was deep in my analyzation of the show. So, I wouldn't say I have a better grasp on Helena's characterization today than I did in 2014. But there are some aspects I feel like I could understand better if I took the time to rewatch and meta.

Loss of a child -- look I don't have children, but I do have niblings now that I adore. I'm also raising a dog who taught me I do not have the energy or anxiety coping mechanisms to raise a human child, because worrying about her almost does me in on its own. And I'm in my mid-30's now and seem to have a better understanding of parent-child relationships (or I'm at least way more interested in exploring them now, both from the view of the child and the view of the parent). So, exploring Christina's death and just how much that affected Helena would absolutely be on my list of deep-dives. I never ignored this before, but I'm certain I could pull more out of this backstory today than I could've in 2014.

Helena's guilt -- I started rambling at the end of that post about which things Helena felt guilty about and whether she felt guilty at all. As far as I remember, I usually wrote her as feeling some measure of guilt for her past actions. (Although I was also usually writing full AU settings so it was a moot point.) But I also wasn't wrong when I pointed out how she didn't show any obvious signs of regret over her S2 actions, unless it was something that had hurt Myka. If I was going to go back and meta WH13, I would explore this topic deeper for sure.

Interestingly, it's not something I could've explored deeper prior to 2022-ish. But now I've watched the series Lucifer which deals entirely with guilt and has a protagonist with shut down emotions who doesn't regret things and then, through incremental changes over 6 seasons, opens up, learns to feel every emotion again, unpacks a lot of shit etc. And I have been FASCINATED by how the writers pulled that off, because on the surface it is not a show (or a protagonist) that I should care about. (And if I had watched it from ep 1.01 instead of completely ass backwards, I wouldn't have cared about him.) BUT I DO CARE! And I want to know how they pulled off Lucifer's character arc. And then I want to use some of the techniques they used to explore guilt and pain and apply them to Helena to see what emerges in her character. Because I think it would be really interesting.

And then finally, I'm not sure I have anything new to bring to the conversation around what Helena's future with the warehouse and/or happy ending looks like. But I could also never make up my mind on what would work best for her. Does she return as an agent? Does she become a regent? (Probably not, but you never know.) Does she just become the live-in inventor who doesn't venture into the field unless absolutely necessary? I have absolutely no idea what her future with the warehouse would look like if a romantic relationship with Myka is her happy ending. (Which is my personal goal obviously lol).

Because -- and this is where my Opinions on Myka come into play -- our girl Myka Bering is not leaving that warehouse. Ever. She is the new Artie. She will take over as the lead agent when he retires/partially retires. And then she will die there. In South Dakota of old age (because I refuse to let her die on a mission). Pete? Oh, my boy Pete will meet an awesome lady and retire to be a stay at home dad. He'll walk away one day. Myka? Absolutely never. You're burying her at the warehouse. Which means Helena will have to have some kind of relationship with it again, and I would have to figure out what that looks like because both today and in 2014, I can't decide what option fits her best.

I hope this answers your question! It was so deep and I love it :D I just don't have new thoughts on WH13 yet because I haven't looped back around to a full blown obsession with it yet. (It will happen. Round 2 of BERING AND WELLS ARE THE BEST THING EVER will absolutely happen at some point in my life because that's how I roll and they are.) So this is less meta about how my thoughts on Helena have changed, and more about how my approach to her character would change given the experience I've gained in the last ten years.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!

[dreamersbcll]

“Whistle”

A Black Widow x Scream crossover

for @psychofreakforc

——————————————————————

1995

Sam threw her bike down in the front yard and ran to the backyard. It was the first day of spring, and she knew Tara would be outside playing.

Their parents have been so busy at work lately. Christina has been working overtime, while Dad has been working nights. That meant the sisters had spent a lot of time home alone recently. As long as they were quiet and the neighbors didn’t notice, it was okay.

Christina had taught them well. They knew how to hide and be quiet. Sam had her background of protecting herself and Tara. They were prepared in case anything went down.

Besides, Sam preferred when the sisters were left alone. It made everything easier. There she could love someone and not be reprimanded for being soft. It was part of the mission to assimilate on American soil. She was doing her job.

Walking to the backyard, she whistled. A long, continuous note. One key.

She waited for a beat and heard it whistle back.

A short, shaky whistle.

Tara.

Grinning, Sam sprinted to the backyard. There she was, her baby sister on the swings, her beautiful black hair drifting in the breeze. Tara looked up from swinging, a smile spreading on her little face. Her baby sister was so beautiful. So kind and young. Her little freckles splashed across her face, making her look like a little angel.

Sam prayed that they would be able to stay this young forever. She prayed that they would never have to go back to that hellhole.

Tara didn’t deserve that.

Bounding over to Tara in two steps, she scooped her sister off the swing, despite the squeak of surprise that slipped from Tara’a mouth. She held her sister close to her chest and swung her around.

Truthfully she didn’t know how much longer they would be in California. And she didn’t want to know. If she could hold Tara forever and give her a life of gentle touches and sweet love, she would be the happiest person alive.

���Sammy!” squealed Tara, giggling hysterically.

“What, baby girl? What’s going on? You miss me?”

Tara squealed in delight, wrapping her arms around Sam’s neck. Sam kissed her cheek, holding her close.

She let Tara down, both collapsing onto their backs on the soft grass. Tara turned her head to face Sam, still smiling blissfully.

“I missed you, Sam. We learned the alphabet today. The English one!”

Sam grinned. She remembered doing that at four years old. She knew three different alphabets right now. She would be happy if she could stop there and grow up as an American.

Reaching over, Sam brushed the hair out of Tara's face. “That’s so good, baby. You’re so smart,”.

Tara blushed and scooted close to Sam. There the two sisters pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed. They sat there for a while, soaking in each other’s touch.

Sam tried to remember everything about this moment, locking it up in the treasure chest in her head. If they ever returned to that place, she needed to remember how Tara smelled and felt, how she hugged Sam and laughed. She didn’t want to lose whatever time with Tara she had left.

“Tara,” she softly whispered, feeling her sister open her eyes at the sound of her name.

Her baby sister snuggled closer, hand resting on Sam’s neck. “Yes, Sammy?”

Holding the hand on her neck, Sam squeezed it softly. “This is real, okay? Remember that. Everything right now is real. Repeat that for me, please,”.

“Everything right now is real?”

Shuddering, Sam took a deep breath. “Yes, my love. That is so good. That’s so good. This is all real. I love you, okay?”

“I love you too, Sammy,” Tara fondly said, curling into Sam’s embrace.

Sam whistled a low noise. Tara didn’t respond, but that was okay. Sam had her here with her now.

That was all that mattered.

——

2023

“Come on, Carp, let's go.”

Sam dumped her dog, Carpenter, out of the car. The two made their way to the trees. It was their new ritual. Sam tried to drag the pair out at least three times a week to find Tara.

There behind the mighty oak trees and small shrubs lay a tiny graveyard. It was in the backwoods of their Ohioan neighborhood. She wasn’t so sure if this was where Tara wanted to be buried. They had only reconnected for a week to take down the Red Room before everything went to shit.

Now Tara was dead, and Sam was alive. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

If only Tara had listened to her on that stupid mountain, Tara would be standing here and not Sam.

Instead, Sam was standing at the grave of her baby sister, staring down the gifts that random people had left. It was strange knowing that others cared for Tara, leaving her flowers, teddy bears, and notes of love. These people didn’t know Tara. They didn’t know that she loved vests, dogs, and playing card games. They didn’t know how much pride Tara took in being a kickass spy while being 5 '1, even though her big sister was six inches taller than her.

And now Sam would forever be eleven feet taller than Tara for the rest of their lives.

Bending down, she cleaned up and organized the gifts left for her dead sister. Notes of love and encouragement could stay, but she had to read them all to ensure they were appropriate. No messages that called her sister hot or inspirational were allowed to stay. Tara wasn’t an inspiration. She was forced to do the work she did. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know her baby sister.

The teddy bears could stay, especially if they had a purple ribbon. Tara loved purple. The flowers had to go. Tara never loved flowers as much as she loved the stars. She used to tell Sam when she was small that flowers die, but the stars live forever.

Sam hopes that Tara lives on in the stars forever.

After she cleaned up the grave, she reached over and traced the words on the stone.

Tara “Carpenter” Belova

December 14th, 1989- October 16th, 2023

Beloved sister & Hero

“This is real,” Sam murmured. “Everything right now is real.”

Hero. What a fucked-up word. Her baby sister wasn’t a hero. She was just Tara. She was her baby girl. Tara was born into a dynasty; forced to kill, maim, and destroy. Her baby sister was so gentle and kind. She loved Sam and she loved dogs. She wasn’t a hero. She was just Tara.

Sam shuffled closer to the grave and whistled. One long continuous whistle, one key. The whistle filled the quiet autumn forest, the wind carrying it through the air.

No response.

Taking a shuddering breath, Sam leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the grave. She wasn’t met with warm, freckled skin and a giggling body. All she felt was a cold gravestone.

Tears escaped her eyes, falling onto the teddy bears and notes. She didn’t care. The gifts didn’t mean anything to Tara and certainly didn’t mean anything to Sam.

Everything was real. Tara was dead. Sam was still alive.

She would make sure that everybody would rue the day that the earth took away her baby sister.

[bassettmemes]

TWICE IN A BLUE MOON. ↳ quotes from the twice in a blue moon by christina lauren. some quotes have been edited for clarity or usability.

"for the first time in my life i get it: home isn’t always a space; it can be a person."

"can you believe me, though? that the worst thing i ever did was for the best reason i ever had?"

"i don't know why people think permanent denial is better than temporary disappointment."

"he’s the one who taught me what love looked like and felt like and then taught me it’s a lie. i have never been able to come back from that."

"do you want to live in the sun? or do you want to go back in the shadows?"

"i think the fact that i never got to fall out of love with him—that i just had to keep moving forward, stumbling into something new and totally different—means that my brain and heart don’t know the protocol here."

"a watched pot never boils, and a watched phone never rings."

"it was two weeks of my life, a long time ago, but i loved him. "

"i want every wish he ever makes to be for this. a penny in a fountain. the first star. an eyelash. eleven eleven."

"uou're an enigma, you have to know that."

"beautiful, but sort of unknowable."

"i’m sure i’m the only one of the two of us who is so fixated on our brief affair."

"it’s so crazy to think that things that I thought only lived in my imagination can be real. but then i touch you, and it’s like every fantasy i ever had coming true."

[pepperfishh]

The Autonomous: Chapter 3

The Autonomous: Chapter 3

Cross posted on A03 and FFN.

I’m exhausted the next day as we begin training, and all but jump out of my skin when I feel Four press a gun into my hands.

“The first thing you’re going to learn is how to shoot a gun,” he announces. He’s walking down the line handing guns to each of us. “Initiation is divided into three stages. We measure your progress and rank according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time.”

My eyes are trained on the gun in my hand. This is the one thing I do not have a lot of practice with. It was very difficult, almost impossible, for an Abnegation woman to get her hands on a firearm.

“The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental.”

I let out an involuntary yawn and dammit if this man does not have an insane level of observation skills. I didn’t realize he was standing that close to me, but sudden there’s a gun barrel touching my forehead.

My hand twitches; not the one holding the gun, but the one at my side. It takes every ounce of self-control to not knock the gun away as I was taught. But I’m not supposed to have those reflexes.

As it stands, I’m still not sure Four didn’t notice my movements. I see his eyes dart to my left hand at my side and then to my right hand holding my gun, which had tightened and my finger was already hovering beside the trigger. I loosened my hold immediately and gave him a blank look as he met my eyes.

“Wake up,” he snaps at me. “You’re holding a loaded gun. Act like it, princess.”

Blending in as a transfer may be harder than I thought, but I’m pretty sure it’s just because this guy is an asshole. And I’m definitely going to blame him for any of my problems, and not my lack of self-control which led me to, for some reason, move my finger to the side of the gun and press on the magazine release and let it fall to the ground.

My unspoken message to him is clear. Now I’m not.

This was not an appropriate reaction. Honestly, even for a Dauntless born initiate – we’re still barely adults. No one should be that calm when a gun is pressed to their forehead. Especially not someone who isn’t supposed to have ever touched a gun before. Oops.

He lowers his gun and looks back to the rest of the class, but not before I catch the intrigue in his eyes.

Well, that’s it. I’m absolutely fucked now.

Thankfully, once we start shooting, I don’t have to make much of an effort to shoot poorly. I’m familiar with the weight of a gun. The parts. How to aim. The mechanisms to shoot. But I’ve had very little actual practice shooting, and it’s taking me an uncomfortable length of time to readjust to the kickback. Luckily, making a fool of myself when it comes to actually shooting seems to have reduced any suspicion Four may have had.

Will’s comment, “Statistically speaking, you should have hit the target at least once now by accident” probably helped lower the suspicion as well. I threw a halfhearted glare at Will, but there was no heat in it, and he just grinned at me in response.

By the end of the first day, I finally manage to consistently hit the target.

Will sits with us at lunch, and Christina makes a comment about him not sitting with his other friends. He makes a face when he looks up at them, and I follow his gaze and immediately feel warmth spreading up my neck to my face.

Edward and Myra, two other transfers, are kissing at their seats. They’re so close together, they’re practically on top of each other. They seem to only break to eat a bit of food before returning to kissing each other.

“You alright there, Tris,” Christina asks, noticing my blush.

“What?” I jump a little, looking at her. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Abnegation is the only prude faction. I can’t give myself away.

“Which faction are you from again, Tris?” Christina asks teasingly. Four is at the table next to us, facing away. But as soon as Christina’s question is out, I see his back straighten a bit and his head turns slightly to the side, very clearly listening to us.

“Where I’m from doesn’t matter,” I reply harshly. “All that matters is that now I’m Dauntless.”

I realize too late that I may have sounded to defensive, but luckily, Al, Will, and Christina just laugh. I join in after a pause, grateful that the moment has passed.

After lunch, Four leads us to a different room. Punching bags hang from the ceiling in a row. He explains that we’re moving on to fighting techniques, and this is where I have to be careful. This is one piece I absolutely have experience with.

I tune Four out for the most part as he demonstrates several fighting techniques – I know most of this already. As we all start practicing on the bags, I notice this is significantly different than what I’m used to.

My mother sparred with me frequently to teach me what to do. However, my mother is similar in body shape and size to me; I’m pretty sure the bag hanging in front of me weighs more than both of us, and I almost have to punch up to hit it correctly.

My insides twist when Four comes to a stop next to me. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes without stopping my punching. His eyes sweep up and down my body – studious and calculating.

“You’re extremely petite,” he says, “which means you’re better off using your knees and elbows. You need to move with your whole body to get more power behind your strikes.”

Suddenly, his hand is pressed to my stomach. I freeze and my heart is beating so loud I worry he can hear it. He puts a light pressure on my stomach.

“Keep tension here,” he says quietly, pushing to turn my body slightly. I manage a nod and he walks away, but I stand frozen for another moment until I remember how to breathe.

“I’m surprised he didn’t break you in half,” Christina whispers next to me once he’s out of earshot. “He scares the hell out of me when he gets quiet like that.”

As we’re finishing up for the day, Al appears behind us. “I want to get a tattoo,” he says suddenly. We all seem to be in agreement, so I lock arms with Will and Christina does the same with Al as we make our way to the Pit to find the tattoo parlor.

As we’re all flipping through the art books to figure out what we want, I hear a familiar voice behind me.

“Pretty isn’t it,” she says. “It’s a raven.”

I spin to see Tori observing me.

“I didn’t expect to see you again, Beatrice,” she says, but her voice is not unkind.

“It’s Tris,” I hiss quietly, looking frantically at my friends who are not paying attention.

“Sorry, Tris.” She looks at me for a moment before grinning. “First jumper; I recognize the name. Well done. Are you here for a tattoo?”

I nod, pulling out the art I want. “Can you do this? Three birds.”

She nods and asks where I want it. When I point to my collarbone, she motions for me to pull the strap of my tank top out of the way. As I begin pulling it down, I hear her inhale her breath sharply. Her eyes are locked on my chest, and when I glance down, I freeze momentarily before pulling the top of my shirt back up slightly to cover the ink that was peeking out.

My eyes are wide, full of terror I’m sure, when she finally meets them. I’m not sure what to do. I’ve seen the maps, but I haven’t explored enough to easily reach the rendezvous point. If I’m already caught, there’s no way I can get out of here – I’m not prepared.

Seeing my terror, Tori reaches out and puts her hand on my shoulder to calm me. “Breathe, Tris,” she orders, but her voice is low. “In. And out. There you go.”

Once I’ve started breathing again – honestly, when did I stop – Tori rises from her seat to gather what she needs for the tattoo. My eyes are still darting everywhere, looking for danger in every corner.

When she sits back down and rolls her chair towards me to start, her words are a whisper. I almost have to struggle to hear them. “What is a girl from Abnegation doing with a tattoo before arrival?”

I say nothing. I refuse to break the silence. Eventually she sighs and begins work on the tattoo. By the time she’s finished, I manage to regain a calm façade, but I can’t escape the terror running through my head.

I’m a failure. I’ve barely been here a day and I’ve already blown my cover. What are the odds that I run into the one person who knows I’m from Abnegation AND I give her a reason to be suspicious.

When I stand up, I risk a glance at Tori and she’s still looking at me with that calculating stare. I avert my eyes quickly and rush to my friends, convincing Christina to help me find whatever I need to dye my hair permanently. She seems thrilled with the idea, so it’s not a long discussion before she’s dragging me away.

That night, once everyone has gone to bed, I throw my blankets back and creep over to the windows. I know there is a camera right outside our room, so going out the door is too much of a risk.

I push open the window and look out. We’re close enough to another building that I can reach it. With practiced ease, I slip out the window onto the ledge and jump to the other building, grasping onto the fire escape and pulling myself onto the roof.

It doesn’t take me long to find my way to the abandoned building. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but the room is a mess and it takes me a while to find the beacon. The moment I lay eyes on it, I hear footsteps behind me.

I reach out blindly for whatever I can find and come back with a glass bottle. Better than nothing, I guess. I hold it tightly in front of my chest as I hide behind the pillar. Finally, the intruder comes into view, and I’m torn between suspicion and relief when I see Tori.

“No person is free who is not a master of himself,” she calls out.

I breathe a sigh of relief and step out. She’s not surprised to see me. “Our unalterable resolution should be to be free.”

She smiles as she approaches. “I was certain you’d show up after what happened,” she explains. “I’m glad I caught you before you activated it.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathe out. “I was careless.”

“You were,” Tori says, nodding in agreement. “You’re still very new to this, but you’re lucky it was me.”

I nod, conceding that point immediately. “You seemed surprised.”

“I didn’t realize we were getting another plant,” she says, unconcerned. “You’re the last one I expected.”

Rather than take offense, I let out a small laugh. “That’s the point, isn’t it.” After a beat. “Do you know who the other is? I was told there were at least two that we were certain of.”

Tori shakes her head, frowning. “I don’t. I know people here that I trust, but I can’t be certain who the other one is. Generally, we only know the person who brings us in and the people we bring in.” Her expression turns curious. “Who brought you in?”

I grin. “That’s against the rules.” She grins back. “Come on, Tori. I know I messed up already, but I’m not that naive.”

Finally, Tori reaches out her hand in greeting. “Blackhawk,” she provides to me. I grip her hand firmly and respond with my own code. “Allegiant.”

“Be brave, Tris,” Tori says as we both lower our hands. “And stay sharp. All I know about the other Dauntless plant is that it’s a man, and his handle is Spectre.”

I thank her and we part ways. My mistake had the best possible outcome. Sure, I outed myself. But I outed myself to an ally. I have at least one person here that I know I can trust. Finally, I’m able to breathe again.