#loved this since childhood in early sixties

[dbluegreen]

Jingle Bell Rock (Rerecorded)

[chaifootsteps]

One of the things that frustrates me about Viv's designs is that they don't really tell me anything about the character's motivations or personality.

If I came knowing nothing about Hazbin and you tell me that Cherry Bomb is a punk from the 80's, Sir Pentious an inventor from Victorian England and Alastor a radio host from the 1920's I would have a very hard time believing you.

(((Especially since for some reason, Viv dresses almost all her male characters in Hazbin with some variant of the same suit and bowtie)))

But I think that no - other design frustrates me more than Nifty's. She is supposed to be a Japanese housewife from the fifties. Yet her dress is looks more like a Halloween costume of a fifties girl than something women would actually use at the time.

Her hair is not even accurate, it should be more curly since perms were really big among Japanese women during that time.

However, the fact that she wears a costume of a fifties woman could come in handy if you write a decent backstory.

Let's start by saying that Nifty was not an adult during the fifties, she was actually born during the early sixties into a very conservative and traditional family who told her that the only thing she needed to worry was to marry a decent man, have kids and take care of the house.

Like a 50's woman!

This caused Nifty, a very extroverted and playful child who loved bugs and mud, to have a pretty stressed-out childhood. Every time her mother found her playing in the garden and getting dirty she was beaten. The germo-phobia she developed as a adult was partially because of this, since filled with germs = being harshly punished she always made sure everything was clean.

Eventually when she was 19, her parents arranged a marriage with a businessman and they tied the knot not even a year later.

Her husband was not bad,

He was rather handsome, had a stable job, a big house in Tokyo and could even afford going on vacation once a year.

If only he wasn't the most boring man alive then things probably would have been different.

Whatever he genuinely loved Nifty or not is completely irrelevant when he treated her more like a housemate than an actual wife. They even slept in separate beds and the only time they spend together was during dinnertime and then 30 minutes of TV before going to bed.

NIfty was suffocating in her marriage.

But is not like she could say something. The one time she tried talking to her mom about it, she just told her to "be thankful" to have so much free time since things will change when she has children.

Well, she and her husband hadn't been intimate since their weeding night, so that wasn't happening any time soon.

That stayed the same for a while, until one night, while watching TV with her husband a local boy/band appeared on screen

It was the early 90s and boy bands were allll the rage.

New bands formed every day and this particular one didn't seem too different from the rest. Except that maybe, the Bad Boy of the group captivated a 30 year old Nifty and rocked her world in a way she hadn't experimented before.

At the start everything seemed normal, she started by buying one CD or two, attending meet and greats in local malls and going to their concerts. Nifty didn't want her husband getting involved, so she got a part-time job to cover those extra expenses and not use her husbands money.

Of course almost all the merch she bought was of Bad Boy

Soon, she started having this fantasies, dreams were B.B confused his undying love for her and took her away form her boring husband and into a live of adventure and music. B.B was a real man, rebellious and strong that would be able to keep emotion and passion in her life unlike her husband.

Those dreams helped her to live another day, and maybe it was because of this dependency that Nifty started to believe that those fantasies were real. That she and B.B were a secret couple and the meet and greats they had were really "dates" that they had to do in secret from her husband.

Unfortunately, it was only a matter a time before dear Nifty became one of those fans who you end up seeing in a police lineup and reading in the newspaper the minute she started stalking B.B and talking about him as if he was her boyfriend with whoever may listen.

All went into a breaking point when one day, Nifty just got tired waiting for B.B to take her away from her boring life. Thinking about it she just came to the conclusion that it was her dear old hubby the one that was keeping B.B away from her.

That has to be it.

Her husband must be preventing B.B from fulfilling his promise!

What lies did he told him about her?

Does he want me as his prisioner forever?!

This is not staying like this!

That night, after her husband fell asleep, Nifty woke up, went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife and stabbed her spouse 30 times before ending his life with one clean slit in the throat.

Now that the bore is dead, she and her precious Bad Boy could be together forever! Now he has no excuse to not fulfill his promise! A new life filled with love, excitement and adventure awaits!

But first she needs to clean, everything ended up a disaster.

Maybe it was the excitement she was feeling, or it was too dark to properly read the labels, but mixing cleaning chemicals can actually be extremely dangerous. You may create a very dangerous gas that could potentially kill you.

That morning, the neighbors woke up due a very strong smell and they shouted the minute they found dead bodies of Nifty and her husband. She had her skin partially burned as she had felt face down the mix of cleaning solutions that took her life.

And you and me know, where she ended

Congratulations, Niffty's yours now! You're clearly more qualified to be writing her. Please cherish her.

[lucystark12]

we might be witnessing something

obviously we all know how much i love byler, and what im about to say is going to sound like “gen z walking away from the white house on fire with hayloft by mother mother playing” but i have to speak my truth here- i think byler being canon will go FAR beyond the fandom and casual watchers of stranger things. we might literally be the early adopters of a pop cultural phenomenon that could go down in history as one of the most important moments in media history.

stranger things is a really bizarre phenomenon in the grand scheme of things, because it is SO famous. it’s popularity has been compared to shows like game of thrones, but it goes even beyond that, because EVERYONE watches it. i’ve been watching it since i was eleven. my mom watches it. my uncles watch it. my best friend watches it. my grandma watches it. it’s viewership is so wide because there are so many aspects of it that appeal to so many different people. the impact this show has sent a song released forty years ago to number one on the charts practically overnight and it STILL plays on the top 40 radio to this day.

think about american politics as they are right now- we’re bearing witness to one of (if not THE) most important election in american history. the difference between trump and kamala is the difference between potential dystopia and nuclear fallout and peace and progressiveness. if trump wins, he will pull all of our aid from ukraine, letting russia push forward into western europe, and we all know what happens when a country tries to push into western europe. trump’s agenda in project 2025 imposes potential laws that will take us back hundreds of years in lgbtq+ rights, rights for people of color, and women’s rights. this election has caused a huge amount of dread and fear in the american people especially as the days push on. and what do people historically cling to in moments of fear like this? art.

think about music during the vietnam war, movies like “red dawn” during the cold war, or mccarthyism during world war two. when people are afraid of the real world, they tend to turn to popular media for escapism. we’re already seeing it, as ridiculous as it sounds, in things like brat summer or the debate edits to chappell roan songs. it might not seem like it’s happening because everything about it is different today in the digital age versus sixty years ago when tvs were boxes, but it is. this is only the beginning. and with the release of the next stranger things season, it’s possible that it could only grow more.

picture this: it’s next july. trump has been sworn in as 47th president of the united states and is six months into his second term. there’s already talks of him overturning obergefell v. hodges (the supreme court ruling that gave us gay marriage), there’s now a nationwide abortion ban, and political opponents of his are slowly seeming to disappear and go inactive. but hey! the 2020’s most beloved tv show is airing its last season this week.. it’s an easy way for us all to feel nostalgia about a time (wether that be the 80s or summer 2019) when our country was progressing forward instead of so drastically backwards as it is now, or to just watch a cool sci-fi show with one of the highest viewerships of any show ever, second only to game of thrones. everyone is turning on their tvs at midnight to watch these new episodes and suddenly- the main couple consisting of the two main characters of the show breaks up, the boy leaving the girl for his childhood best friend, whom he has been in love with for years but been forced to ignore because of the way society views gay people?

and everyone is seeing this, even 40+ y/o homophobes who watch the show for the nostalgia factor and never suspected a thing. the public is outraged. fox news is going on about the gay agenda. but the shock of the news is turning heads. people are changing their minds because… people being gay actually hasn’t only been a thing for the last ten years??! gay people might not actually be lesser humans? ANYBODY CAN BE GAY? what is happening! we know everyone watches this, so people of all backgrounds all across the world and more specifically the country are reacting to this in different ways. but no matter how you look at it, everyone is talking about it. it’s all over everyone’s for you page, SNL is parodying it, anderson cooper is talking about it on CNN, trump is denouncing it on twitter, there’s a push for it to be banned in florida.

suddenly, the democrats are picking up on this, because isn’t this everything we’ve been fighting for this whole time put at the forefront of a mainstream show? this is forcing everyone to confront the implications of having a gay ship be the focal point of a show with the viewership of stranger things, and the democratic party and it’s supporters pick up on this, turning it into a symbol and essentially a martyr of the party as a whole. whatever song (and you know there will be a song) that’s used in the scene where byler becomes official is immediately topping the charts. people are walking around wearing t shirts with byler quotes on them like we’re seeing now with the kamala brat t shirts. hundreds of people are influenced by it and we may even see an increase in support for politicians who advocate specifically for gay rights or are gay themselves.

this all happens because when people who are being spotlighted by pop culture speak out, everybody hears it. it’s the same reasoning behind why an endorsement from taylor swift could outright win kamala this election. a huge part of our population has quiet beliefs that they’re just waiting to dive into until somebody in mainstream media tells them that it’s a good idea. in making byler cannon, stranger things could be changing the trajectory of popular culture and american politics as a whole for years to come. it’s all about the domino effect. if people see this, all it does is open a gateway for other stories and conversations to happen, because something so outrageous as making byler canon during the early stages of project 2025 will turn the heads of every politically inclined person in america, from every maga cap wearing trucker to every blue haired barista, and when heads are turned things are changed.

[getvalentined]

Okay so that ask opened the floodgates for me. I've been sitting on my headcanons about Vincent's mother for ages, but I think this is as good a time as any to start writing it down for interested parties.

So. Let me talk about Sayoko Valentine, where she came from, who she left behind, and what that means for my version of Vincent.

Sayo's maiden name is Otayo, and she was born in 1929 to High Summoner Otayo Katsuhisa and his wife, Ota Seira—the family name similarity is intentional, as Seira came from a branch family in the same line, but was technically Katsuhisa's cousin. (This is normal. Vincent's paternal predecessors are actually worse. Welcome to the genealogy of nobility.)

As stated, Sayo left home at seventeen, eventually ending up in Junon, where she was able to test into university thanks to the impressive education provided to her back home. She went into botany—which is what she wanted to do back home, but her father wouldn't allow it because of her position as heir to the temple—and met Grimoire when he was working as an assistant teacher in one of her secondary classes. He fell in love instantly, she absolutely did not. It took about a year before they got together, although they were married pretty quickly after that, and Vincent came along more or less immediately, when Sayo was twenty.

The real tragedy here is that while Sayoko is recorded as having died due to influenza complications, what actually killed her was a brain aneurysm—caused by her personal aeon struggling to front after being essentially held captive since Sayo left Wutai. This eventually happens to all summoners with personal aeons, provided they survive to adulthood but don't "maintain" the aeon properly, although usually it isn't until mid-thirties. Sayoko's struggle with the flu made her constitution weak, and that's why it killed her so young. She died at twenty-seven. (Just like her son.)

(Grimoire went on to eradicate influenza from the face of Gaia. He was just too late to save his wife, and he never fully recovered from that failure.)

Sayoko has/had a brother around a decade younger than her who is still alive today and currently heads up the summoner temple in Wutai, having taken Sayoko's place as the heir after she ran away from home at seventeen. He's in his mid-sixties during the Crisis, and is actually slightly closer to Vincent's age than that of his late sister. Seira passed away giving birth to him, and although he was very fragile growing up, his health improved starting around age four, following the very early presentation of his summoning abilities. Sayo left two years into his childhood training, when she was sure he would survive. (If he hadn't improved, she would have stayed out of a sense of duty to her family, even if heading up the temple was the very last thing she wanted.)

Because he was so ill as a child, Sayo's brother was given an ancestral name, a tradition that meant to allow the soul of the ancestor in question to serve as a distraction against death. Allegedly, doing this confuses the Lifestream into believing that the sick child has already died, because a soul with that name from that bloodline is already in the Lifestream. Sayoko's little brother is named Braska.

Vincent knows he's alive, but has never met him and has no intention of ever doing so—fairly intensive research postcanon led Vincent to the discovery that summoner religious beliefs would define his very existence as an extreme sort of heresy. Vincent knows, from the little bit he remembers from stories told by his mother, that her family loved her very deeply, and so he has no intention of letting them know that the daughter they loved so much ran away to make her own life and instead produced the single most horrific monster their belief system can conceptualize.

They would probably refer to Vincent as an Unsent, although unlike any they've ever even imagined. In actuality Vincent is what they should refer to as an Undying, a concept that is so far beyond ancient there's almost nothing written about it anywhere, but Vincent never came across that in any of his research so he doesn't know.

Other random notes:

Ota Seira's younger sister was selected as a bride by the emperor of Wutai at the time, making her Yuffie's great-grandmother. This means that she and Vincent are somewhat distant cousins. Because of that intensive research Vincent did postcanon, he is completely aware of this, but Yuffie isn't, and he is never ever going to tell her. (It also means that Yuffie carries the summoner gene, but that doesn't really matter since it's rare enough she's really unlikely to end up with anyone else who has it.)

At least two old Junonese families also carry the summoner gene, but it's so recessive there are no records of it presenting since the founding of Junon. One of these families is, obviously, the Valentine line, which is how Vincent presented with the gift. The other is a noble family that fell from grace in the early 1800s, formerly known as Faucille, who artistically translated their name from old Junonese to Standard upon the loss of their house into order to keep their fallen fortune from being easily connected to the original line: in the modern day, their surname would be Crescent.

Vincent's entire existence may have been specially orchestrated by Minerva herself in order to produce a viable vessel for Chaos, but that's just a theory. Genesis says it's true, but can you really trust that guy? (When it comes to anything related to Weapons or Minerva, postcanon, you absolutely can and in fact should, but Vincent doesn't want to think about it.)

[ereardon]

You Again [Part 3] [Hangman x Reader]

Summary: It’s been five years since you last saw your childhood best friend and first love Jake Seresin. But fate, or coincidence, has you back in Jake’s life and he’s desperate not to lose you again.��

WC: 6K+ 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death

Series masterlist; Part 1, Part 2 

Jake’s dog tags dangled around your neck, the ends tucked tightly inside your scrub top as you entered the OR scrub room. You felt the metal shifting against bare skin as you ripped open a sponge packet. Lost in thought, you scrubbed at your hands and forearms aggressively until you heard a voice over your shoulder.  

“Doctor? Are you alright?” Tina, your favorite nurse, tilted her head to look at you. She pulled down on her mask. “I’ve been watching you scrub for five minutes now. You’ve barely blinked. Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, letting off the foot pump and watching the water come to a stop. You stepped through the automatic doors into the operating room, and Tina held out a cloth to dry your hands which you took before sliding on a fresh pair of gloves. You wiggled your fingers to make sure they were tightly fitted and nodded in acknowledgement. 

“First surgery of the day,” Tina said, tossing the used towel into the laundry bin near the wall. “There’s that quiet calm.” 

The room was bustling — the patient already sedated on the table, two medical students hovering in the corner with notebooks and nauseous looks on their faces, the anesthesiologist checking the ventilator, scrub nurses recounting the tools on the metal trays – but you understood what she meant. There was no blood on the floor. No damp cloud that trailed after the cases that ended with a zipped body bag. The first surgery of the day meant a clean slate. 

But it would only last for a moment. And then, chaos. 

Although you didn’t know it, while you were elbow deep in the chest cavity of a sixty-three year old man with a ruptured descending aorta, Jake was thousands of feet in the air, going head to head with enemy planes. As you called out for more clamps, more gauze, hang another blood bag, he’s bleeding out, Jake was traveling at nine hundred miles per hour, dodging bullets in a dog fight. You didn’t know that as the blood rained down over the table and across your shoes, as the lead surgeon called time of death, as you ripped off your gloves and slid down to the floor in despair, Jake’s plane was also descending, a wing on fire, out of bullets and out of time, a commander screaming into his headset to eject, a blinding whiteness overtaking him.   

All you heard was the heart monitor flatline, the urgent beeping that often haunted your dreams during call shifts sloping into a sharp whine. And then it stopped, bringing with it the all too familiar sound of death. 

Two weeks before

He was gone. 

You had done this before. Pulled yourself up, rebuilt your life after Jake Seresin left. But this time was different. There were his dog tags around your neck, for one. You had slipped them on after you finished reading his note, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine. And unlike five years ago, you knew why he left this time. 

Before you even realized, you were in your car flying across the Coronado bridge. It was early, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon. You had two hours until you had to scrub for your first surgery. You could make it. 

When you pulled up to the gates at the base, a man in uniform stopped you. 

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes, I’m here to see Lieutenant Seresin.” It came out rushed. Every second mattered. “I’m not signed in, but I was here just yesterday. It’s urgent.” 

He typed across his computer in the small booth outside the gated fence. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Lieutenant Seresin’s squadron is departing this morning. I’m not allowed to let visitors enter.” 

“Are they gone already?” 

“I can’t answer that.” 

“For fuck’s sake, is he here or not?” you screamed. The man’s face remained stoic, like concrete. Any other moment you would have felt guilty at the outburst. But the only thing that mattered was knowing whether or not Jake had gotten on the ship. 

“Ma’am, that is confidential. I’m not at liberty to say.” 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, slamming into the driver’s seat and peeling back in reverse, throwing the car into park on the other side of the gatehouse. Your fingers trembled as you dialed Jake’s number by memory. “Please pick up, please pick up.” 

It rang and rang and every time it rang your heart sped up, nearing tachycardia. You could feel your heartbeat in your ear as it pressed against the phone.  

“Jake, fuck, please pick up.” 

Finally, “Y/N.” You gasped a little hearing your name on his lips. His voice was strained. 

A tear slipped out of your eye. “Jake, please, I’m here. I’m at the gate. They won’t let me in. They say you’re leaving today.” 

You heard him cough on the receiving line. “Bunny.” Or was he choking back tears? 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving today? I thought we had time!”

“Baby, I left this morning because I didn’t want this to happen.” He paused and you paced near the gate on shaky legs. “I meant everything I wrote. You’re the reason I’m going and you’re the reason I need to come back and I fucking promise you, Bunny, I’m coming back for you.” 

Tears started to form at your lower lid, obscuring your vision. You swiped at them. 

“You look so damn pretty, darlin’, even with tears down your beautiful face.” 

You sucked in a breath and pressed your free hand to the metal fence, watching a figure appear in the distance next to one of the white hangars. You could just make out Jake’s tanned physique in his green jumpsuit, a pair of sunglasses planted firmly over his eyes. 

“I’m coming back,” he said and you heard the gravelly voice give way to a softer, gentler Jake. Then, “Do you remember the summer after high school when we went to that party at Bobby’s house, and the cops came so we had to hide in the shed until the morning?”

You laughed despite the tears. “I had a shovel pressed into me the entire time. Pretty sure there’s still a dent in my rib cage because of it.” 

“Do you remember what you said to me that night?” Jake asked. “You said that you were happiest when we were together. Didn’t matter where, didn’t matter when, didn’t matter if we were doing something or not. You said that you were happier being trapped in Bobby’s dad’s gardening shed that night with me than you would have been inside with a bunch of random people.” 

His voice cracked at the end. This was the side of Jake that he didn’t let people see. The Jake that held your hand at the doctor’s appointment as they ran gene tests to make sure you wouldn’t have to go through what your mother went through. The Jake that had let you hold him in your arms the night before while he prayed to a God you weren’t sure he still believed in to bring him home safe. It was Jake, not Hangman, who needed you to need him. 

“I still feel that way, Y/N,” he breathed into the phone and you tightened your fingers around the metal of the fence. “If you’ll have me.” 

You slid your hand past the metal bars and made the OK sign with your fingers. There was a chuckle on the other end of the phone. 

“Be safe,” you whispered. “For me.” 

“Always,” he said. “I gotta go, Bun, we’re loading up. I love you.” The line went dead before you were able to respond. 

***

That first night after work you drove to the Hard Deck, your fingers shaking. You weren’t sure why you went. This time you had the foresight to change out of scrubs and into regular clothes, but you chose the same bar stool as the one you had occupied the night Jake waltzed back into your life. 

“What’ll you have sweetpea?” The brunette bartender from last time smiled at you across the wooden bar. 

“Vodka martini,” you said quietly. “Dirty.” 

She nodded and started to turn around. And then, “Y/N, right? You were here a few weeks ago, with Hangman.”

You were shocked that she was able to remember you amid the crowds of rowdy patrons. She smiled, reading your mind. 

“We don’t get a lot of scrubs in here,” she laughed. “And Pete’s team is pretty small, I try to keep tabs on all of them.” You looked at her blankly, despondent, and she reached her hand out to cover yours. “I know what you’re thinking. They’re coming back safe. I made Pete promise me.”

“There’s no guarantee,” you whispered, looking up and catching her eye. “We have no idea what they’re facing right now. We have no idea if they’ll ever walk through that door again.” Penny watched your eyes shift toward the entrance. 

“You’re right, we don’t know,” she said softly. “But I know Pete, and I know Hangman. And the way he looked at you, I’ve never seen him look at someone like that before.” 

You shook your head, embarrassed that tears had started to split down your cheeks. Penny passed you a napkin and you lifted it to your face. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

She smiled sadly. “Once or twice. Trust me, it never gets any easier.”

“Do you know when they’re coming back?”

She frowned. “No. I probably know about as much as you do.”

“I literally don’t know anything,” you whispered. “We, uh, we’re not together. Before the other night, I hadn’t seen him in five years.” 

Penny tilted her head. “You’re allowed to miss him. Doesn’t matter what you two are. If he means something to you, you get to be nervous.” 

You bit your lower lip and Penny slid the drink over to you. “This might help,” she said, smiling. “Or not, but this is a bar after all.” 

The vodka went down smooth. Too smooth. You felt light even just after one drink, and as you slid your card over to Penny to close you out, she placed her hand on your forearm. “You OK to drive?”

You nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be fine.” Your signature was sloppy, it had been since medical school, and she squinted at it briefly. “Doctor’s scrawl,” you said and Penny chuckled. “Trust me, I’m fine.”

“Come back, OK?” she said as you pulled your purse off from the hook beneath the bar. “I don’t know when they’ll be back, but I promise this will be the first place Mav comes. We’re open every night.”

You smiled at her. “Thanks.” She lifted an arm in a wave. 

The apartment was cold when you got back. Less than twenty-four hours before it had been filled with candlelight and Jake’s voice and delicious food and now it was empty. Wandering into the kitchen, you expected to find it crusted with remnants of the prior night’s dinner, but to your surprise it was cleaner than when you two had arrived home the night before. 

Jake. Of course he had cleaned up. That was just like him. 

In the living room, you collapsed on the couch, memories of the night before flashing behind closed eyelids. Jake’s hands caressing your face, fingers digging into your hips, sliding under your shirt, pressed against your back to bring you closer to him. His lips trailing over your entire body, planting kisses in your hair, intertwining with yours. His whispers rumbling in your ear, telling you he was sorry, saying he loved you. And later, telling you how scared he was. Letting you in, showing a softer side you had never seen before. 

As you stood to take a shower, wash away the reminders of the day, something caught your eye. The table next to the couch which held a small lamp and a framed photo felt off. You stepped closer and realized it was because the photo frame was empty. Picking it up, you turned the frame over in your hands. It was the same photo that Jake had on his mantel, the two of you on the beach at Kiawah. Setting it down, you reached for Jake’s note that still sat crumpled on the coffee table from where you had tossed it earlier in your rush out the door. His scrawl took up most of the first page and ended with his signature, but you turned it over just in case and gasped. There was writing on the second side. 

P.S. — Hope you don’t mind, but I needed a new good luck charm. Can’t believe you still had the photo. That is how I will always remember you. Beautiful, golden, all mine. It’s always been you. 

Days went by. Patients came and were discharged. You ran more ECGs and code blues and emergency bypasses than you thought were possible. At the end of every shift you drove back to the Hard Deck, often closing out the night with Penny on the beach. Sometimes after night shifts, you drove out there and sat alone on a picnic table around back, watching the sun rise over the crisp horizon, imagining Jake. What terrors was he facing? What thoughts were running through his mind? 

Your fingers gripped the dog tags. They had quickly become your good luck charm, just as they were Jake’s. Since you had slipped them over your head that first morning you hadn’t lost a single patient. 

Despite everything that had happened, you still didn’t know how Jake Seresin fit into your life. You finally had answers for why he walked away all those years ago, but was it enough?

***

You were seven, playing in the grassy field behind the elementary school. A group of boys playing kickball nearby were watching as you and two friends hopped around in a made up game, everyone acting out different animals. 

“I’m a pig!” one of the girls yelled, down on all fours with her nose flared wide. The second girl was flapping her arms as wings, imitating a bat. You hopped in a circle with both legs pressed tightly together, your hands and wrists fused out in front of your body, palms facing down toward the ground. 

Laughing, you had your head turned before you felt a bump and were knocked to the ground. 

“I’m sorry!” When you opened your eyes, there he was. Sandy blond hair, green eyes, bright blue t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, holding out a hand. “Here, let me help you.” 

You took his hand, which was caked in dirt, and let him pull you to standing. 

He smiled at you, the red textured kickball that only seconds ago had decked you now tucked nearly under one arm. “I’m Jake.”

“Y/N.”

He nodded. “Sorry for knocking you over.” 

You shrugged. “It’s OK, I guess.” 

“What were you guys doing?” He looked out at the other girls, still in the throes of their game. But standing there with Jake, the lingering tingle of his fingers still on your hand, as well as some very real dirt, you suddenly felt embarrassed by the childish games the other girls were playing. 

“Animal kingdom,” you whispered quickly, blushing.

“What animal are you?”

“A rabbit.”

He smiled and even back then it was dazzling. The other boys hollered at him from the kickball field, but he didn’t seem to be in any rush. Jake shifted his weight between his feet. Another shout from beyond made you tilt your head back at him. 

“Think it’s your turn.”

Jake began to turn around and join his team, but stopped first to give you a grin. “See you later, Bunny.” 

Your cheeks flamed red. Even then he was handsome and a smart ass and kind. 

You fell a little in love with Jake Seresin that day. 

***

You were sitting at the bar, nursing another martini, when you watched Penny’s face transform. It was a Tuesday night, quiet all around. But you were getting tired of waiting. You had lost a patient on the table earlier, a grandmother of nine. It broke you.  

Witnessing her and Mav felt like a movie. You saw her smile so wide it threatened to overtake her, watched as she scurried around the bar, threw herself into his waiting arms. He was wearing a khaki uniform, his hands pressed tightly around Penny like he couldn’t believe she was real. 

You stood up, watching them with an open mouth, your face turned toward the door, waiting. 

After what felt like an eternity, they broke apart and Mav stepped toward you, one hand on your shoulder. 

“He’s OK,” Mav said and those two words cleaved you in half. You fell back into the chair, choking back a sob, and Penny rushed to your side, patting your hair. “A little banged up, but OK. Everyone made it.” 

With Mav and Penny flanking you on either side, you felt like their child and it made you momentarily long for the parents you had lost. You couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. 

“You did good,” Mav said. “Whatever you said to him after our conversation, he took it to heart. He was incredible out there.” 

You shook your head. “I said what you told me to say.” 

“What do you mean what he told you to say?” Your heart stopped. The three of you whipped around to see Jake, followed by the rest of the dagger squad, filtering in through the side door. He looked more handsome than ever, but his mouth was drawn into a tight line. Your line of vision immediately went to his arm, which hung in a sling from his shoulder. “Y/N? What did he mean?”

You stood on wobbly legs and Jake stepped forward, closing the gap between you two. You looked up at him, acutely aware the rest of the team had taken their place near the pool table within hearing distance. “What happened to your arm?” You ran your fingers across his sharp jawline and he pulled your hand away.  

He shook his head. “Answer the question, Y/N.”

“Jake, it’s nothing,” you whispered. “Mav just mentioned to me that day I came to see you at Top Gun that in order to do well on the mission, all you needed was to believe in the fact that everything would be OK when you got back. That you and I would be OK.”

You couldn’t read his expression. “Believe? So everything you said, it was just because Mav asked you to?” Then, softly, “Was it all a lie?”

“Baby, no!” You reached out to place your hands on his face, but he scooted back so he was just out of reach. “Jake, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” 

He shook his head. “I tried to get past it, but there was something in the back of my head that just didn’t feel right. It felt too easy. Like why would you all of the sudden forgive me? After five years. After everything. But this,” he pointed toward Mav and Penny who were glued in place at the bar, “this makes sense. He asked you to do it so I wouldn’t fuck up the mission. He made you get in my head” 

“You think I slept with you because someone asked me to?” Tears had started to form behind your eyes. “You know me better than that, Jake.” 

“I used to know you.” The harshness of his voice tore you apart. 

“You know me,” you insisted softly. 

Jake was seething. “You didn't once say you love me,” he whispered and you felt his anger bubbling at the surface, alongside something else. Regret. “I fucking worshipped you. And you never once said you loved me back that night.” 

Your voice was stuck in your throat. Thick, like biscuits and gravy. He was right. You hadn’t. You did love him, you always had. You just didn’t trust him. “Jake, let’s go outside, OK? I don’t want to do this here.” You placed your hand on his arm and he shrugged it off so hard you stumbled, Mav stepping forward to catch you. 

As you looked up at Jake behind glassy eyes, you saw him looking at you, really looking, for perhaps the first time. He was angry. It radiated off of him like steam clouds in a cartoon. He was heartbroken. You could see it in the way his mouth trembled, the way his fists squeezed together at his sides. But he was also sorry. You watched him watch you stumble, watched his pupils widen and his jaw tighten as he fought his urge to save you. 

Maybe he was done trying to be your savior. 

All you wanted to do was step forward, gather him in your arms, try to explain everything. It wasn’t that you didn't love him. And you hadn’t spent the night with him to appease Mav or to ensure the mission’s success. You had done it for Jake. For the Jake who had pushed you through high school and stayed up late with you to study for the MCAT during college breaks. The Jake who had stood by you when everything else was falling apart and had pieced you back together. Jake who had loved you wholly, until the day he left. 

He whipped around and stormed out. You started to rise to follow him and Penny whispered in your ear. “Let him cool off.” 

Rooster rose from his seat. “I got him,” he said gruffly, following fifteen steps behind. Phoenix and Bob gave you looks of sympathy before standing up and joining you at the bar along with Penny and Mav. 

You were embarrassed but you dissolved into tears, feeling Penny hugging you from behind, her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Someone nudged a glass of water across the bar toward you. 

“The kid did good,” Mav said finally, breaking the silence. “He saved our asses and almost died in the process.” 

You swallowed tightly. “What happened out there? If you can tell us.” 

The team launched into a full recount of the mission. You watched their faces light up as they interrupted each other, talked over one another, finished each other’s sentences. You drank the water that Bob inched toward you and gave him a small smile, which he returned with a blush. 

After a while, Rooster walked back in and all eyes turned to him. You stood. Waiting. 

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Y/N. He’s really upset. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before.” Rooster took a step forward and placed his hand on your arm. “Give him time, OK? I sent him home. He’s not really in a place to talk right now, but he’ll come around.” 

You sighed. “I’m not so sure he will.” 

“Can I give you a ride home?”

You shook your head. “My car is here. I’m fine to drive.” 

“Let me walk you out then.” You nodded and pulled your purse out from under the bar. Penny hugged you and Mav gave you a pat on the shoulder. 

Phoenix closed in and wrapped her arms around you, whispering into your ear. “He loves you. He’s going to realize that’s what matters.” You smiled at her and she smiled back. 

Four weeks had changed everything. But one thing was the same: you and Jake were back to not talking. 

Rooster guided you out to your car. You clicked the button weakly, lighting up the headlights. “Déjà vu,” he said. You sniffled and reached for the handle, but Rooster’s hand shot out to cover yours. “Y/N. I gotta ask. Did you do it for the team like he thinks? Or do you love him?

“Because Hangman, for all his flaws, saved our asses out there. And he loves you. I’ve never seen him care this much about anyone, not even himself. So if you did it just to save us, that’s admirable and I can’t say I don’t appreciate it. But I have to ask you to walk away. Don’t drag it out with him if you’re not in it for the long haul. He’s a mess right now. He saw his life flash before his eyes and he thought there was someone he loved that he was fighting to go home to. Only to find out maybe she was never his to have.” 

Rooster looked at you, dropping his hand. You felt shaky and leaned up against the car door. Pulling the handle out, you slid into the driver’s seat, turning the key and rolling down the window. He put both hands on the open window frame and leaned in. “It’s always been Jake, for me,” you said quietly. “That was never a question. So no, I didn’t do it because Mav asked. I did it because I love him.”

Rooster breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled, standing up. “OK, good.”

“But I just don’t know if he and I have a future.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I needed him to be safe. I needed him to be OK. And I know he needed me to be here when he got back,” you exhaled. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him for everything. If I can just go back to how things were, pretending like the last five years didn’t happen. I don’t know if we can rebuild things and act like we haven’t lived different lives. Like we didn’t plan different futures for ourselves. Like he didn’t make promises to other girls that are just like me. Like he didn’t walk out of my life once without a single care in the world.” 

You felt a stream of tears coming, and you gripped the gear shift tightly, yanking it back into reverse. 

“Goodbye, Bradley,” you said, throwing the car into drive, the headlights piercing the darkness ahead. 

In the rearview mirror, you saw him standing in the dust you had kicked up in your wake, hands on his hips, shaking his head. As the tears started to bloom in your eyes, he almost started to look like Jake. 

***

You gave him three days. You had left a smattering of voicemails and texts, all unanswered. Finally, you gave into the panic and dialed Bob. 

“Hello?” There was a small southern twang in there that made you smile, reminded you of Texas. But that only served to make you think of Jake, and immediately you felt a lump form in your throat. 

“Bob, hi. It’s Y/N.”

“Hey there,” he said. “Let me guess, you’re looking for Jake?”

“Yeah, I uh, I left messages and voicemails but he’s not answering. Have you seen him?”

Bob hesitated and you pressed him. 

“He told you guys not to talk to me.” 

“Something like that.” 

You sighed into the receiver. “Guess I deserve that.”

“I shouldn’t tell you this, but everyone’s going to the Hard Deck tonight for Phoenix’s birthday. He’ll be there.”

“I could kiss you Bob.”

He laughed. “Don’t make Bagman any angrier at me than he already will be.” 

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye, Y/N.” 

Your hands shook as you pulled into the gravel parking lot later that night. Smoothing out your blue sundress, the one you wore because you knew how Jake felt about sundresses, you adjusted the gift you held in one hand. It was nearing ten o’clock – you had tried to guess a time that would guarantee Jake would have shown up, but not so late that he would have already left. 

Inside, it was rowdy. Friday night in full swing, the entire bar packed to the brim with uniforms. A few heads turned as you entered alone. Immediately, you spotted the team in the back. They were wearing their khakis again, Phoenix laughing and blowing out candles over a white cake that Penny held in her arms. You made your way slowly through the throng of people before a hand reached out to grab your arm. 

“Hey sweetheart, can I get you a drink?” A brunette in uniform has his thick fingers wrapped around your upper arm and despite trying to shake them off you weren’t able to. “What’s a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?”

You opened your mouth to tell him off before a hand came around your shoulders and the brunette stepped back. “Hands off the lady, Campbell. She’s with us.” Turning to your left you saw Rooster with his arm around you, once again wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned too far. 

The guy held up his hands in apology. “My bad, Bradshaw. Didn’t know.” 

Rooster steered you away, toward the group in the back. Bob spotted you first, smiling behind his wire frames. Your eyes landed on Jake immediately. He had one arm propped up on Phoenix’s shoulder, grinning wide. You hesitated for a split second, not wanting to make a scene on Phoenix’s night, but Rooster scooted you along. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispered in your ear. 

You almost tripped in your heeled sandals, stumbling forward and catching the group’s attention. Phoenix lit up when she saw you and rounded the corner of the table to give you a hug. 

“Happy Birthday,” you said softly, handing her the gift. “I wasn’t sure if it was a presents type of thing.” 

“With me it’s always a presents type of thing,” she said, looping her arm through yours and pulling you toward the group. “Come on, we were just cutting the cake. Doctors eat cake, right?”

“This doctor does,” you murmured and she laughed. Jake’s eyes were on you, his tension palpable in the already humid air of the bar. Penny slid a piece of cake over to you and you took a bite as Phoenix opened her gift, pulling out the trio of Le Labo candles and a bottle of champagne. 

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands around your neck. “I love it.”

You smiled and hugged her back, despite Jake’s hot glares on your skin. Bob appeared at your side holding out a beer and you took it, chatting with him for a moment. Across the table, Rooster had inched up behind Jake and was whispering in his ear. Out of the corner of your eye you watched as the pair, formerly enemies, spoke in hushed tones with muted body language. 

Finally, mid-conversation with Bob and Coyote, you felt a hand come around your waist. Looking up, you saw Jake standing behind you and to your left. “Can we talk?”

You nodded and Bob and Coyote shot you knowing glances. Jake offered his hand, and guided you out the back door and down the beach toward a picnic table. He sat on the top of the table, his boots planted on the bench seat and you followed suit. 

“How’d you know I’d be here?” he asked quietly. 

“Just a really good guess.”

“Oh yeah? You always just walk around with birthday presents for Phoenix?” he teased and you laughed. Jake’s face perked up at the sound. 

“Don’t be mad at them, OK? They were just trying to help us.”

He shook his head. “I know. They’re all meddlers anyway.”

You reached out and touched his hand that was splayed on the wooden table. “What happened to the sling?”

“It was just a dislocation. Doc said I could stop wearing it after a few days.”

Your lips formed a pinched line. “Mind if I take a look?” Jake shook his head and you pushed yourself off the table, standing between his legs. Gently, your fingers circled his shoulder, lifted his arm softly, pressed against the joint. “Does that hurt?”

He looked at you, a quiet frown on his handsome face. “Yeah, it hurts.” 

“I still think you should wear the sling,” you said, dropping your hands. “And ice it, twice a day. I don’t care whatever your doctor is saying, no heat. Got it?”

“It’s not the shoulder that hurts, Y/N.”

You gently rested your hands on his thighs. “Jake, I’m sorry. Things got really messed up the other night. But I need you to know that I do love you. And I didn’t try to trick you or whatever you’re thinking. I would never do that to you.” 

He closed his eyes for a moment. “I know, I jumped to conclusions. But the idea that you let me back in that night just to make sure I would be able to fly, that hurt, Y/N. It really hurt.”

“I let you in because I missed you,” you said, pressing your fingers harder into his muscular legs. “Why would I have come here, to this bar, every single night for two weeks waiting for you to come home if I didn’t give a shit?”

Jake raised his head. “You did that?”

You nodded. “Jake, these last few weeks have been a daze. It’s like I was on autopilot. And then I would feel these,” you yanked at the chain around your neck, pulling the dog tags out of where they had been tucked inside your bra and you felt Jake suck in a breath, “and remember what I was fighting for. I was fighting for you. For us.” 

His hand slid into his front pocket, pulling out the folded up photo of the two of you that he had taken from your apartment. Jake unfolded it carefully. “I flew better in this mission than any other flight in my entire life,” he whispered. “And it’s not because I knew how important it was, or because I was just having a particularly good day. It was because of you. You’re the reason I needed to come home. You’ve always been the reason, Y/N. I just let myself forget it.” 

He tucked the photo back into his pocket and pressed one hand to each side of your face. 

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m scared you’re going to leave me again. That I’m going to have to pick myself up in your wake. I don’t know if I can do it a second time.”

Jake paused. Then, “Do you love me? Not back then. Not when we were kids. Do you love me now?”

Lifting your gaze to Jake’s, you nodded. 

A thumb grazed your cheekbone. “I’m going to need to hear you say it, darlin’. I need to know this is real.” 

You pulled him to standing so the two of you were only inches apart. Jake slid an arm around your waist, and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “I love you, Jake. It’s you. It’s always been you. I just need you to promise that you’re not going to run away again.” 

A small yelp left your mouth as Jake bent down and lifted you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. Supported by one arm, he lifted a hand to brush the hair out of your eye and tuck it behind your ear. “I am never leaving you again, Bunny. Not if I have any say in the matter.” 

You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, felt Jake’s hands tighten where they held you up. Inside, you heard a round of cheering, Rooster taking his place at the piano. 

Jake pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours, smiling. “Guess you're finally going to marry me now? Just like we talked about when we were kids.” 

Your hands raked through his hair, green eyes glued to yours. “Lieutenant and Doctor Seresin. That sounds pretty good to me.” 

“Bunny girl, anything with you sounds good to me.” 

Four years later 

“Don’t let him eat so much ice cream, he’s going to get sick!” 

Jake chuckled and pulled your back against him, letting you sink your weight into him as he rubbed circles on your expanding stomach. “It’s his birthday, just let him be Bunny.”

You sighed and turned around, pressing your fingers to his cheeks. “God, you are an absolute pushover, did you know that?”

He laughed again and grabbed your hands, pressing kisses to the inside of both wrists. “Only because we make really cute kids.” 

“Yeah, this one better be cute, I’m sick of getting kicked in the kidney,” you muttered. 

Across the yard, you spotted your son sitting on Rooster’s shoulders, playing with a toy airplane. 

“I wonder who he got that from.”

“That would be me.” You both turned to see Bob, Phoenix and Fanboy approaching. They hugged you and Jake, and Phoenix’s eyes widened at your growing stomach. “What else are godmothers good for?” she asked, pressing one hand to your stomach. “Still no update on this one?”

Jake shook his head. “We’re stuck on girl names.”

“Girls are tricky,” you said, sitting down on a foldout chair, Jake coming to stand behind you, his large hands massaging your shoulders gently. 

“C’mmon, you’re not going to name her Bradley, too?” Rooster appeared out of nowhere, your son giggling in his arms. You started to reach out for him, but he lept into Bob’s arms instead and the group laughed as the two-year-old began to climb the WSO like a tree. 

“One Bradley in this family is enough,” Jake huffed and you squeezed his fingers. 

“It’s not even his first name!” Rooster exclaimed, cracking open a beer. “Just his middle name.”

“It’s been two years, man, let it go,” Phoenix laughed. “They named him after her dad, can’t really compete with that.” 

Rooster nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, I’m still rooting for Bradley for the next one.”

“It’s a girl!” you chuckled, running a hand over your belly. 

“We still have three months to decide.” Jake planted a kiss on your temple and crossed over to take his son out of Bob’s arms. He lifted the little boy into the air and you watched as he laughed. 

“Where’s my godson?” Everyone’s eyes turned to the edge of the fence where Mav and Penny were entering, their hands full of gifts. You sighed and watched your son light up. 

“Mav!” he yelled, his tiny voice barely able to reach across the yard. 

Maverick put the gifts down, crouching and holding open his arms. Jake set your son onto the ground and everyone watched as the toddler ran toward Mav, who scooped him up in a big hug. 

“Hey there Hangbaby,” he said and you stifled back a laugh. The baby callsign never got old. 

The song changed and everyone was on their feet. Jake held out a hand and pulled you up, one hand coming to rest on your back and the other on your stomach. You watched as Jake’s teammates who had quickly become family started to dance in the backyard. Your son sat in Mav’s arms as he bounced from foot to foot to the music. 

Jake leaned down and pressed his mouth close to your ear. “I love you, Bunny.” 

You smiled and leaned your head back against Jake as he shifted to cradle you from behind, swaying to the song. 

All those years ago you thought you were saving him. You never once thought that he might be the one to save you. 

THE END

A/N: Thank you everyone for your love on this series! I absolutely lied when I said part 3 would be short. On the hunt for my next TGM fic so if you have any requests please drop them in the comments! 

Tag list: @notanordinaryprincess95 @coleishere @shanimallina87 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fangirling-4-ever @lgg5989  @smoothdogsgirl @kkrenae @wishfulwithwine @pariahsparadise @madslake06 @alana4610 @abaker74 @muushwrites @another-tblr-fangirl @avoirlecoupdefoudre @mrsharringtonmunson @greenteaandsagetea @thegirlnextdoorssister @n3ssm0nique @lover-of-nights @multiplefandommess

[notbecauseofvictories]

a brief list of people I talked to during my vacation, incomplete:

the woman who kindly escorted us to her favorite pubs in Dublin. I'd guess she was in her late fifties/early sixties, and she was very kind about squiring several jetlagged/semi-drunk tourists to her favorite bars. She talked about her daughter and her holidays and kindly left us to soak in the beer, atmosphere, and local music, before floating back to the hotel on a cushion of sleep deprivation and alcohol.

the tour guide who took us through Cork to Killarney, who was extremely chatty---but it was invaluable local color, in my opinion, since I think it's rare to find someone so willing to talk about their childhood with complete strangers. She told us about how her mother would send them out to pick blackberries for jam, the weekly washings, the annual Medicine Taking in the spring (it was horrible and completely useless, according to her), and how her father would load up their milk to head to the processing shed and collect town gossip there. Apparently, there was a Traveler family that used to park their wagons in her family's yard, and the family would share leftovers, help the Traveler's daughter to school in exchange; she remembers when the daughter died, and then there were no more visits.

the other tour guide, who was very polished and professional---he had lots to say about the extant education and healthcare systems, as much as history, and only teased me a little bit for mispronouncing "cairns." He ruefully admitted he hadn't understood Banshees of Inisherin, even when I mentioned it had inspired my trip to Inis Mor. (I was quietly in love with him.)

the staff at [redacted] in Galway, which is where I and my family hung out after our long days ended. I loved their bartenders specifically, the cheerful woman who kept (not so subtly, but amusingly) needling us to buy more, and joking with us; the uni student who wanted to know what "Notre Dame" was and told us she was studying education; the man with the thick Russian accent who went into detail about the Prigo/zhin crash and why it had occurred; the young man who talked about the bars in Dublin, and how he'd just returned from because he'd forgotten his ID at one of its best ones.

the fellow traveler, who I also sat with at that bar---he was only there to pick up his wife for a mini-vacation, but he was charming and I loved listening to him talk about Dublin, about what he remembered as the best spots, comparing notes with the bartender to see whether certain bars were still "cool" or if that was 10 years in the past.

the owner---as I later found out---of The Bar on Inish Mor, who is competent and capable as any manager I've ever had. When I first saw her she was pulling pints behind the bar; only after an hour or two of observation did one of the underlings mention that, oh no, she wasn't just a manager, she was the owner. But of course anyone quietly instructing staff to clear tables or wash dishes, making sure that food arrived on time, and exchanging charming banter with customers, has to be the owner. I don't know her name, but I admire her intensely.

(sidenote, the guy who wiped out on the biking path, who rose up laughing at himself, and his friends who gathered around him taking the absolute piss out of their mate even as they catalogued his injuries---I love all of them.)

the staff at the Little Museum of Dublin, one of whom asked if I was a history student (I'm not, but was charmed) and then talked about the creeping horror of bog bodies and the museum's planned expansion until they had other duties to attend to.

the curators at St. Auoden's, who talked to me about the function of the church, its graves, and also discovering headless bodies beside the churchyard.

that curator at Marsh's Library, who gamely entertained all my questions about Latinate titles and preserved skulls. I still need to know more about the Irish book of prophecy prohibited by the Vatican but benignly ignored by the Dublin clergy; I guess I'll email them directly.

the woman I helped across the street in Dublin. She had vertigo, and was not confident she could make it by herself. A lovely woman, with sere white hair and blue eyes, and she thanked me so profusely afterwards. I hope she's having a good day.

the kindly night manager of the hotel, who asked whether I was okay when I showed up at 3am in the hotel lobby. (My bus to the airport left at 4am.) He told me about his family and the rhythms of the job; I told him about Chicago/what I'd seen in Ireland so far.

Obviously there was a lot of notable history and peerless attractions, but there's something about the people you meet on vacation that's just....well, it's like lightning, in that it doesn't strike twice and it fills you with awe every time.

[thenerdyindividual]

hey! im obsessed with arthurs welsh christmas, that fic altered my brain chemistry. im searching currently, but i was wondering if you could rec any more of your merthur fics that are similar? (I think i specifically enjoyed arthurs pov and the whole low stakes of it all, just them falling for eachother.) it was so lovely. thank you for your help and also for writing such an incredible story, should be a real hallmark movie tbh.

Omg this was such a nice ask to see! If you’re looking for similar things, right off the bat would be

A B&B Romance in Modern Wales

Arthur Pendragon works sixty hour weeks and is devoted to his family name, until one night Uther goes just a bit too far. Restless and confused, Arthur gets into his car and drives until he can't. It is the middle of the night in a small village in Wales, and a helpful officer directs him to a B&B for the night.

There he finds a kindly innkeeper, his very weird historian gremlin nephew, odd people, odd situations, and even odder - himself.

A slightly absurd and very gentle story about coming back to yourself, finding a true family, and realizing that historian gremlins are actually really hot and rather amazing, and perfect to fall in love with.

That’s the most similar to Welsh Christmas. Features small quirky town, low stakes, and falling in love.

There’s also

Then and Now

Merlin skips a year of school when he is seven and ends up in Year Four instead of Year Three. The older kids all pick on him and the worst is by far Arthur. A stolen book brings Arthur and Merlin together, and they become best friends. Sadly, nothing they do can stop Arthur from being sent away.

Morgana pressures Arthur to hit on a guy in the pub. He does it to shut her up, but it turns out Emrys is actually a lot of fun to be around. One date turns into many. Arthur has never been happier.

Seems like fate had something else in store for Arthur and Merlin after all.

It’s a shorter fic, but you get childhood cuteness and then grown up flirtation and dating.

The Ethics of Sleeping with a Hot Stranger

In which Merlin meets Arthur at a club and goes home with him, only to find out that Arthur's occupation is less than undesirable. Good thing he has supportive friends who won't at all roast him for his poor life choices.

Merlin finds out Arthur is a cop and has a small crisis about it. But it ends in fluff and explanation of Arthur’s poor choice in career.

The Boy I Love, He Got Wavy Black Hair

Merlin heads out early one morning to help Lancelot in his classroom. When he meets Arthur at his office for lunch, his hair is different. Arthur is not a fan.

This one is a bit different since it’s established relationship, but Merlin catches lice. Much Arthur dramatics and teasing ensue.

Lastly, if you’re willing to go outside of straight up modern au, there is

You Hear Him Howling Outside Your Kitchen Door

Merlin thought a type-a student trying to break into his office to replace a section of an essay would be the strangest thing to happen to him, but then a man shows up on his doorstep naked and seemingly drunk. Giving that man a helping hand opens up the door to a strange hidden part of society in London. There is a group of lads who all live together and take way too much enjoyment in playing football together, but there is something more to them than meets the eye. Merlin just hopes it won't affect his growing relationship with their unofficial ringleader Arthur Pendragon.

It’s an urban fantasy au where all the knights are werewolves. It’s still got that fluffy falling for each other low stakes romcom vibe, but there also happens to be werewolves.

I hope these give you something to start with @isuckatbeinghappyallthetime! Thank you so much for reading my fics and for asking for more! That means so much to me!

[teplejtrouba]

i may be uncultured but whos ur pfp?

it's the czech singer Václav Neckář, one of my absolute favourites. (music wise but he was also an actor and played the main role in one of my favourite czech movies, so a general icon and the man of my dreams since childhood, a large part of my bi and trans awakenings).

this photo would be taken sometime in the sixties/early seventies considering how young he is. he generally had this really preppy good boy look so seeing him in a darker aesthetic was really surprising and fun and i love this picture.

ii don't think you're uncultured, you're just probably not czech :-D it's like the czech equivalent of having an obscure picture of david bowie as your pfp

ii also really like this photoshoot of his. he has incredible t-boy swag to this day

[loveisonaroll]

Keep to Your Word

Jake x reader

Warning(s): slight angst; childhood trauma; mentions of past emotional abuse; mentions of drug abuse; some arguing; fear of making plans; fear of people backing out of plans last minute.

Summary: Jake forgets about plans he and y/n had already made.

Word Count: ~ 2.7K

-----

Sixty Vines was one of your favorite places in Dallas, so when you learned there was one in Nashville after you moved in with Jake, you were ecstatic. However, life had gotten away from you upon settling into your new job and shared home, and you hadn’t even had the time to think about planning a night out. That was until Jake mentioned Sixty Vines one Monday night while the two of you soaked in the bath after a rough start to your week.

“What was the name of that place we went to in Dallas that had all those wines on tap?” Jake spoke lowly into the side of your head from his spot against the porcelain tub behind you.

“Sixty Vines? I love that place,” you responded, opening your eyes and turning your face up to look at him.

“I was telling Josh about it during lunch today. I told him how you can order wine by the half-glass so you can taste more,” he mumbled relaxedly, hands idly running up and down the tops of your thighs as he closed his eyes in thought. “They had phenomenal food, too.”

“Yeah, I think I saw they have a location here on Broadway! I’ve been wanting to go for dinner one night. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really? Should we go on Friday? I’d love to go again.”

You sat up a little and turned your torso slightly to look Jake straight on. “Really? I would love to go.”

Jake peaked an eye open at you for a moment before he grabbed at your waist to pull you back into his chest. “Yeah, babydoll, why not?”

The two of you relaxed in the tub until the water was no longer warmly enveloping you and you hardly made it to bed without falling asleep on your way. Though Jake may not admit it out loud, a warm bath filled with your fancy oils and bath salts with you laid back against his chest was his favorite way to end any day. 

The next day, as you were getting ready to head out the door for work, you confirmed with Jake once more about your Friday plans.

“Baby, yes. Friday let’s go to Sixty Vines. Make the reservation today, okay?” Jake said plainly as he poured his first cup of coffee of the day. He usually wouldn’t be up so early, hence the grumpy morning attitude, but he had been tirelessly working on the new album with his brothers and was determined to finish it up this week. 

“Okay, babe. I’ll see you tonight. Good luck in the studio today!” you said cheerily, to which Jake just grumbled as you reached up to kiss his lips goodbye. 

The rest of the week went by painstakingly slow, and you thought about your Friday plans a couple of times throughout, but you didn’t allow yourself to confirm over and over again with Jake. Ever since you were a little girl, you dreaded making plans with anyone more than a day away, because they always fell through and people inevitably always came across better options than to hang out with you. It began with your addict father, who would fill your head with plans of parks and playdates while sober, but he would leave you crying as you waited hours for him to pick you up a few days later. Eventually, you stopped getting your hopes up when he suggested a future outing, and you were leery of any other person in your life who attempted to make plans with you days in advance. 

You trusted Jake, you really did, and he had never backed out of solid plans unless he had no other choice. That is why it seemed silly and annoying to ask him over and over if your plans for Sixty Vines on Friday were still solid. But you couldn’t help the anxiety that bubbled in your chest when days past and there had been no mention of the reservation.

When Friday afternoon came, you left work an hour early to give you enough time to do your hair just how Jake liked it and slip on some new lingerie you knew he would love after dinner. You had just finished curling your hair when you heard the front door unlock and multiple boisterous laughs filled your home. 

“Oh babyyy!” Jake sang as he made his way down the hall to your shared bedroom. He threw open the door to find you at your vanity patting moisturizer into your face. “My, what a ravishing woman I’ve got myself here!” He jested as he leaned down to give a series of kisses to your temple and cheek bone. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled, shooing him away from your face. 

“What am I doing? Darling, I could ask you the same thing, getting all fancied up. Who are you meeting up with tonight? Who is he?” 

You knew he was joking, but your brows furrowed in confusion anyways. “What do you mean? You know I would only get done up for you!” You tried to use a joking tone right back with him, but unease had already clouded your chest. 

“As it should be, baby,” he winked at you through your vanity mirror and turned towards the closet.

The sound of one of his brothers laughing down the hall caught your attention and another round of confusion swooped up your mind. “Are your brothers here?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna all ride together to Mulligan’s from here since it’s closer. Are you going to come?” He called back. You could feel all the blood in your body rush to your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jake?” Your heart beat in your throat. 

“What?” Jake responded defensively as he emerged from the closet, black jeans and shirt both unbuttoned.

You turned around to look him in the face before continuing. “I thought tonight was going to be just the two of us, Jake? Now all of a sudden you’re going to Mulligan’s with your brothers?” 

“Do you have a problem with me going to Mulligan’s with my brothers, y/n? We are almost done with the album, so yeah I thought it would be nice for us to take a little break and go to our favorite bar.” Jake paused, buttoning his jeans and the bottom two buttons of his shirt before continuing. “And besides, we are together every day here, just the two of us. Forgive me for wanting to spend some time with my brothers not in a work setting for once.” 

All you could do it stare at him, jaw slacked. The anxiety you had pushed down all week now felt justified, and you felt silly for getting your hopes up. You turned around and began putting your various beauty products back in their places, biting your lip harshly to keep the tears at bay. 

Jake had turned back to his closet to pull on some boots and grab his favorite wide brimmed hat to complete his outfit. When he returned to the dresser by your vanity to pick out some jewelry, he noticed your perfectly curled hair had been thrown into a messy bun and you had moved on to your bedtime routine. “What are you doing? Don’t you want to come out with us? Hannah and Carly are going to be there.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes at him. “No, I think I’ll just stay in tonight.”

“What is your fucking deal tonight?” Jake turned to face you fully, staring down to where you were perched on your vanity chair. “Am I in the doghouse now for wanting to spend some time with my brothers? We haven’t been out in weeks, y/n.”

“I’m not upset with you because you want to go out with your brothers, Jacob. That’s ridiculous.” 

“Then what’s the problem? Fucking spit it out, y/n.”

You silently shook your head, getting up from your vanity to change into pajamas. It was stupid, the whole fight, and you didn’t know how to crawl yourself out of the hole you dug without feeling more embarrassed and silly.

“I give up!” You heard Jake sigh out behind you. “We’re leaving as soon as Danny gets here if you decide to change your attitude.” 

Once you heard the door slam behind him you collapsed onto the foot of your bed in silent tears. You felt so dumb for thinking your plans wouldn’t fall through when you hadn’t brought them up again after Tuesday morning. Of course he forgot, you thought to yourself. Or maybe he didn’t forget; maybe going to Mulligan’s with his brothers sounded like more fun than dinner with you at a restaurant you loved. Mulligan’s was just as special of a place to him, after all. 

You pulled yourself up and towards the bathroom to wash your face. Once you felt a little more refreshed, you called Sixty Vines to cancel your reservation and hoped it wasn’t too late to do so without a cancellation fee. Unfortunately, you had no such luck. $30 per person for cancelling last minute, and you grimaced when you remembered you had used Jake’s card to make the reservation instead of your own. The two of you switched off buying dinner, and it was his turn, so it seemed logical at the time to use his card. Now, it just made you more sick to your stomach. 

You could hear Danny’s voice carry through the house, and soon the house was silent. Left with your own thoughts, you analyzed every moment you had with Jake this week since your bath together Monday evening. Maybe he didn’t actually want to go and felt pressured by you to suggest it? His tone was off Tuesday morning when you asked him again. And he never brought it up again, so surely he didn’t actually mean he wanted to go. You hurt yourself by thinking he would want to go with you. 

The more you thought, the more anxiety built up in your chest, and the more stupid you felt. You sat up quickly, remembering the cancellation fees that had been charged to Jake’s account. You knew he would see the charge and you didn’t want him to pay for something he didn’t even want to do in the first place, so you transferred $60 to his account. A small weight lifted off your chest when you confirmed the transfer. 

—

A loud laugh followed by a series of hushes woke you from your slumber. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep, and you looked at your phone to find it was nearing 3 AM. You drug yourself out of bed and threw on your robe, walking down the hall towards the continued half-whispers.

When you reached the entryway of the living room, you were amused to find Jake and Josh sitting on the rug in the middle of the room eating McDonalds. Josh had his legs spread out in front of him while Jake was sat more purposefully, as if he joined his brother after the fact. 

“Are y’all having a party without me?” The two brothers jumped slightly at the sound of your voice. You walked towards the pair and sat on the couch behind Jake, running your fingers through his hair absentmindedly. He hummed a moment before leaning into your touch. 

“Noooo,” Josh slurred. “You’re the one who didn’t want to go out with us, party pooper!” 

“Josh!” Jake smacked his brother on the side of the head. “The others were sober enough to drive themselves home. Joshy here is staying in the guest room tonight.” 

“Yeah well I didn’t have a fight with my girlfriend before going out, so I was able to have a good time.”

“Alright, it’s time for bed,” Jake threw back, clapping his hand on his brother’s shoulder while getting up.

It was then that you realized your boyfriend was not as drunk as his twin. Your brows furrowed as he looked anywhere but you, helping Josh throw their trash into the McDonald’s bag and into the garbage can in the connected kitchen. 

“Goodnight y/n!” Josh sang out as he was being ushered past you to the guest room by his brother. 

You chuckled and made your way back to the bedroom and laid back down on your side of the bed. A couple minutes later, Jake silently made his way through the bedroom to the en suite to brush his teeth and wash his face. He wordlessly made his way into bed beside you and unceremoniously turned his back to you.

A tense minute had passed before you turned towards your boyfriend and wrapped yourself around his back, kissing his shoulder blade. 

“I’m sorry for ruining your night, baby. I didn’t know our little argument would keep you from having a good time. I didn’t pick a fight on purpose,” you mumbled into his back. 

It was quiet for a moment before he spoke back to you. “Why didn’t you remind me we had a reservation at Sixty Vines, y/n? I saw the cancellation fee and your transfer.” 

Your heart sank and the tears were reignited. “Because I felt silly. I thought maybe you hadn’t actually wanted to go, and then I had already started an argument before I could just drop it.” You sniffled and rubbed at your nose as Jake turned towards you. 

“It’s not silly and I’m really sorry. I did want to go, and I literally just forgot. We had such a long week in the studio and you never said anything else about it, so when Josh suggested we go out for a little break, I jumped at it.” Jake reached up to cup your cheek, running his thumb under your eye to catch a rogue tear. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier tonight, baby?”

And the waterworks started. You told Jake about your childhood and how plans were always fluid and you learned to not get your hopes up. You told him how you hadn’t felt this way in a long time, and this was the first time in your relationship that a dinner date was scheduled days in advance without Jake mentioning it several times in between. Jake listened intently to every word that poured from your mouth and continued to wipe away your tears, his lips set in a deep frown. 

“And I just thought that, I don’t know, that maybe Mulligan’s just sounded like a better time than going to some fancy dinner with me.”

Jake’s face turned up in a grimace as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours, his thumb still rubbing softly across your cheekbone to wipe away tears. “Don’t you know that I would go to the fanciest dinner every night if I was spending it with you? I would choose you every time. Every moment in my life is always made better with you by my side, you’ve got to know that.”

Jake’s thumb was put to work then, wiping the tears as they rapidly fell. A watery chuckle left your lips as you threw your arms around Jake’s neck to pull him into you tighter. 

“I’m serious, baby. It sounds so cheesy, but it’s so true. I’m so sorry you haven’t always felt like you were the ultimate choice, like you were the best person to hang out with over everyone else. Because you deserve to be loved and cherished and my time with you is so precious.” Jake pulled away from you to search your eyes, kissing the tip of your nose when he found nothing but pure adoration. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you, darling girl,” he replied, placing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. “I promise that from now on I will make sure I remember everything we ever have planned. I’m serious.”

You chuckled and whispered a simple okay back to him before snuggling in closer for the night. 

Jake kept to his word, too. Every plan the two of you made was accompanied with a calendar invite to your phone with reminders set for the day prior and the day of. You knew Jake loved you, and his dedication to making sure he showed it made you love him even more. 

------

Sorry if the ending was a little abrupt; I had no idea how to end it! Hope you all enjoy!

[animeboye]

Remembering Akira Toriyama

On March 1st, 2024, legendary mangaka Akira Toriyama passed away due to acute subdural hematoma. He was just sixty-eight years old. His most famous creation, Dragon Ball, has had a profound effect on the anime and manga industry as a whole. Without it, we wouldn't have had series such as Yu Yu Hakusho, Naruto, One Piece, or many others. On top of how inspirational as a series Dragon Ball has been, it's shaped the childhoods of many kids all over the world, me being one such kid.

Toriyama is one of the few famous deaths that has actually brought me to tears, the only others being Satoshi Kon and Satoru Iwata. Losing Toriyama, for me, was such a sudden and devastating revelation and if I had never gotten into Dragon Ball Z when I was a kid, I don't know if I ever would have become an artist or writer. While I have had many inspirations for becoming an artist/writer, such as Yoshihiro Togashi, creator of Yu Yu Hakusho and Hunter X Hunter, Masashi Kishimoto, creator of Naruto, and Eiichiro Oda, creator of One Piece, it was Toriyama and Dragon Ball which really helped to show me the path I wanted my life to go on. While writing Dragon's World, I've gotten comments from readers who've told me that there were moments where they were reminded of Dragon Ball and with Dragon Ball being one of, if not my biggest inspiration for becoming both a writer and an artist, those comments, to me, are not just some of my favorites that I've ever received, I find them to be some of the highest praise I've gotten.

Alongside Dragon Ball, Toriyama's other works such as Sand Land, which has both a game and an anime series coming out, and Dr. Slump show just how funny and imaginative Toriyama was. His paneling was always so clean and any action scenes were always easy to read and his characters, while not always the deepest, were always full of life and made the series they starred in so much fun to read.

Like many other kids who grew up on DBZ, I also tried on so many occasions to do a Kamehameha or go Super Saiyan. I remember when I saw the episode where Gohan was teaching Videl how to fly and she was focusing her energy into her palms, I tried to do the same, thinking it would help me to fly, too. When a new VHS (yes, we are going back that far) and later, DVD of DBZ would be released, I would beg my grandma or my mom to buy it for me. The same way true for when new Dragon Ball Z action figures would come out. I had to have them all, and I think I actually did have most of them. Then, at fifteen, I sold them because I thought, "I'm going into high school. I need to be a big boy and big boys don't have toys". Heh. Funny how well that thought process aged. Especially since now, I'm trying to find those same figures from my childhood so I can buy them again.

I would often recreate the fights and adventures Goku and his friends went on with these figures I bought, and sometimes, I would make up my own stories. One that I can always immediately recall was Goku and the gang fighting a group that used a seal similar to The Seal of Orichalcos from Yu-Gi-Oh! (also, RIP to Takahashi-senpai) and just like the Seal of Orichalcos, whoever lost that fight would lose their soul, too. Granted, the stories I came up with back then weren't good (I mean, they came from the mind of a little kid, so please be a bit gentle on me), but when you're an Elementary schooler/early middle schooler, they feel like something incredible. It's like you're getting to contribute to this world you've come to know and love and yet, you're the only one who truly knows about said contribution. In a way, it's a really special feeling.

Call me a weeb if you want for saying this, but to me, Toriyama wasn't just another creator. He wasn't just another storyteller. He was my sensei. He was my biggest inspiration and the person who got me to realize where I wanted my life to go. That I wanted to be a writer and an artist. That I had stories I wanted to share with others. Toriyama was someone I always wanted to meet and, I guess now I'll have to wait until I get to Other World myself to get that chance.

Thank you for everything, Akira Toriyama. Thank you for showing me who I was meant to be. Thank you for Dragon Ball and for allowing it to be such a staple of my childhood. I'll be hoping your family is doing well and are remaining strong in these times. May you rest in peace.

[aetheternity]

Its been a year my love 💞

By the time this is posted I will have been a Venti main for a year and I can't even begin to properly explain how much this sweet angel has done for me. He doesn't even realize how much he's impacted my life.

I've talked about it a couple times before but when I started playing Genshin, Chongyun was my favorite character but after I had finished the archon quest Venti had quickly made it to the number two spot within the next three months he'd became my favorite. (Because Chongyun refused to come home and because Xingyun shippers ruined him for me ya'll know the drill at this point.) I remember saying that despite my love for him I wasn't going to pull for him because I hated using bow characters on my laptop.

I had had such a difficult time with the Dvalin part of Mondstadt's archon quest and I kept dying with Venti though I found humor in it as his dying line kept going waa waa waaah. I started playing through the Liyue quest and once I was done with that I found myself missing Venti so much. I quickly returned to Mondstadt to do his story quest and it was during his trial period that I knew I wanted him so much.

After that I started training everyday to get good at using bow characters. I would use my Fischl's aimed shot as much as possible and worked myself up until I was very comfortable using bow characters. His rerun ended up being a good five months after all of that and I didn't pull any characters on any banner except for Gorou on Itto's first ever banner. He came home during the Irodori festival with one pull sixty one soft pity, guaranteed because I had gotten Mona on the last banner.

I was so excited I sobbed because I finally had my beautiful boy and he's barely left my team since. I only take him off when I'm fighting anemo related bosses or anemo resistant bosses.

I love to think that he was waiting for me to pull because he came home so fast. I told my friend at the time how much I love him. He's just such a beautiful character.

I wanna properly explain all my feelings and the reason I love him the way the way I do and I finally feel mentally prepared to get it all out there.

So here we go. Around the time I started playing Genshin I had recently gotten out of a pretty messy breakup. The guy in question and I had started dating when we were eighteen our relationship lasted till we were twenty. During this time my now ex had been trying to help me cope with the fact that I was a child abuse victim.

Not gonna get too deep into that but I had realized when he was talking to me about his family and the kind of relationship he'd had with his mom that my childhood wasn't normal and I was extremely jealous of how kind and gentle his mother was towards him in comparison to how my parents were. Which lead to resentment pretty early on which made me lash out at him a lot. I had spent a lot of that time trying to piece together my feelings trying to cope with all this new found hurt and I was so young I didn't know how to.

But even before he'd made me look at it genuinely I'd always had this feeling. This gnawing weight on my chest like I wasn't breathing as though a weight were sat on my chest. It started when I was probably about thirteen that I didn't feel free. I'd go to school and be happy to be out of my house but I everyday I felt an immense sense of dread at the knowledge that I'd have to go back home. I knew I was dealing with something bad because I grew less and less happy as I aged and everything made me mad. I was always mad or sad and I took it out on everyone.

When I was sixteen I was diagnosed with depression. Things get darker from here so trigger warning.

Circling back to when I was eighteen. I had asked my mom if I could go to therapy because my ex had told me I needed it for my anxiety (which I'd had my whole life) and my depression (Keep that in mind). I was paired up within a few weeks with a man who was in sixties. Long story short he didn't help me and I ended up leaving therapy with more trauma then I'd gone in with. He'd constantly made really gross remarks towards me and asked me about my period and when I was going to get on birth control.

He'd even asked me when I was planning to have sex with my then boyfriend and when I'd told him I wasn't sure if I was ready he'd told me to hurry and decide or my now ex would probably dump me for an easier girl.

Something I've neglected to mention until now was that even with my boyfriend back then I hadn't felt like he was a completely safe space. We fought a lot and he'd often said things that made me feel worse about myself. He slut shamed me and got really mad when we had the exes talk and he found out I had more exes than he did. He'd screamed at me a couple times and he had lovebombed me less than a month into the relationship. But I was a dumb eighteen year old who thought I was in love so yeah..

That weighed feeling was so intense with him because he never left me alone and he didn't respect my boundaries at all. I'd ask him to give me an hour of space he'd get mad and guilt trip me into shortening the time or telling me I didn't love him. He'd cry and I'd stay. Once we had actually broken up he'd cursed me out so bad said that I'd been a horrible girlfriend and that I was a loser yada yada yada. He'd turned all our friends against me but we had stayed friends because I still had feelings for him.

During that time he made fun of anything I said. Told me he hated me and wished I'd just fuck off and confessed to me that he hadn't been truthful during our relationship about never having done anything sexual with anyone. (We were both bisexuals) he'd given oral to a guy two years before we dated and I had never done oral or anything sexual with anyone which I had been honest about.

Once I'd finally cut ties with him for good the entire weight of every single thing he'd done, everything my parents had done to me, my old therapist all of it came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. I had started cutting again for the first time since I'd been hospitalized at sixteen and I had been gifted a new therapist she is the same woman I still have to this day. At the time I was nineteen and by the time I was twenty I had slowly started to get slightly better. By the time I finally picked up Genshin I was twenty one years old. I was still suffering pretty bad mentally from all the horrible pain I'd suffered in a relationship with my ex and my relationship with my parents was god awful I couldn't talk to them about anything.

I played through the first story quest of Genshin and Paimon had asked Venti what the god Barbatos stood for and when he said freedom I felt like I could breathe again for the first time. Like he'd shoved that boulder on my chest away and was pulling me out of the rubble I'd been buried beneath for so long.

Freedom was all I ever wanted to have. All that I had been secretly pining for and ever since then Venti's had such a deep place in my heart. I fell in love with him so fast. I found LunAsmr about three weeks later and I listened to Venti tell me he loved me. Sometimes I wish I could tell him personally just how much he's changed my life cause who knows where I'd be without him.

I don't know maybe I've said too much but every time I hear a new voice line from him or I get new information about him I fall so much more in love with him. I felt like I was too broken to be loved or to feel love towards another living thing but he came along and took all of that worry away. He's not a comfort character he's THE comfort character and I am so thankful that Hoyo made him because he's my everything now. I'm in such a better place.

He has the biggest room in my teapot and the number one spot on my team because he's just that important to me because he's so honest and kind and everything I never knew I wanted.

If you've actually read this far wow and thank you. All of this stuff is so heavy but I knew I wanted to get this out for the anniversary of my favorite character coming home to me. I know I'm putting a lot of information out there for a bunch of strangers to read but I wanted people who I will never see in real life to know everything, all of the beautiful things Venti has done for my life because I can't tell Venti himself!

I'm so happy to have mained this amazing archon for this long though and I can't wait till we reach two years. I hope other Venti mains have just as much peace in his existence as I do everyday.

[olipeaksforever]

Barbarism Begins At Home: A Blue Velvet fanfiction.

Plot: His life was a mystery and hers was incredibly well documented. However, accidents were never innocent, and their lives belonged to a utopian town to which they never belonged to. Now, they look for answers in whispers and carresses, as well as hits and cuts.

Pairing: Jeffrey Beaumont/Sandy Williams.

Content warning for: (other than spoilers for Blue Velvet) Domestic violence, rape, sexual assault, religious conflict, de-personalization, attempted kidnapping, stalking, homophobia and transphobia. When I say this fic has a lot, it has a lot.

Notes: You can find it in ao3! God I love the trans boy and trans girl reading of jeffrey and sandy (they're my headcanons too)...

He learned to hide in the shadows from an early age. Since birth, basically. He was born on a cold night in early March 1963. His parents were older than others. They had met in high school in the forties, studied at the same university in the fifties and after so many miscarriages and failed attempts, they finally had the child they longed for in the early sixties. Their plans were hindered at first, but the outcome of that part will be discovered later.

A month after the Frank Booth case, while having lunch with them and his girlfriend's family, he couldn't believe they were still together. Their personalities were complete opposites but they were still smiling at eachother. He remembers waking up to their screams in the middle of the night but still watching them cuddle, their noses touching. 

After lunch, he and his girlfriend went to the lake to watch the ducks. They were surrounded by a beautiful sight. They were part of a painting, as they stood under the cool shade of the pines and oaks, the spring wind helping to cool them. Knowing the reality of his town, it didn't fit in its image anymore, but it's now forgotten familiarity about that innocent beauty Lumberton once had still made him transport back to his childhood, where he lived in that fantasy.

The sun streamed through the branches of the trees and as if in a play, reflected off Sandy's face, who turned away from the light to watch. Sandy smiled at him, and blinked. 

"Better?" Sandy asked him. What a difficult question to answer. 

Jeffrey shrugged. "Do you want the long answer?"

Sandy chuckles. "Well, you were kind of weird at lunch. Is it because of…"

"No, no..." Jeffrey interrupted Sandy. 

"Then what, Jeffrey Beaumont?" And he felt Sandy's fingers gently squeeze his hand. She was smiling, her beautiful blonde hair blowing softly. Jeffrey translated this gesture as: "I'm here to listen to you. I'm not leaving."

"My own life is a mystery." Jeffrey answered her, blinking. Sandy blinked and looked at him, searching his eyes for an answer.

"I wouldn't be surprised."

Jeffrey sighs, then blinks. "My parents." 

Sandy's heart dropped into her stomach at hearing this, her sweet smile disappearing. She dipped under the shade of the pine tree Jeffrey was sitting in and she sat down next to him, making eye contact with her boyfriend.

"What about your parents?" What a strange question.

Ever since he first walked into their house on March 10, 1963, three days after he was born, Jeffrey had always noticed ashtrays spilling cigarettes and ash and orange blisters of pills on whatever small table his mother owned. Every time Jeffrey asked her, he always had the same three answers:

"Go to your room."

"Stop standing there staring and do your homework."

"They help me sleep and be happy." What a big lie. 

Jeffrey still didn't understand why his parents were still together despite everything they went through over the past forty years, because they seemed so unhappy and dull every time they were in the same room. He was always extremely careful and clean as a child, whether it was his mother's anxiety issues, his maternal aunt Barbara's increasing dementia, or his father's heart problems.

Now, his premature growth was eventful, and he was not the child his mother thought would break the tradition of unwell members in the family. The dresses Frances had envisioned so much for her ideal child since she was pregnant vanished within two years of Jeffrey's birth and were replaced by overalls and striped t-shirts. The little girl she envisioned never existed when she realized she was forcing a poor boy to wear bows and leave his thick, excessive dark hair long instead of short like he desired. 

Frances disowned anything that didn't resemble her standard of what a normal man should be but with Jeffrey she made the exception after having to take him to a psychologist at such a young age. She blamed herself for giving her disease to him. The disease and curse of mental illness. She blamed herself for making the cycle of mental illnesses continue in her family.

Jeffrey still remembers how his mother, with her cold, gray gaze, looked at him as if he was a mistake while they waited in the long hallways of the psychologist’s entrance hall. Jeffrey was humiliated by himself and his feelings about his identity and how he wanted to live his life when he was a child. They were still surprised he turned out that way and needed to have professional help at such a young age. 

Could they blame him though? Illnesses ran everywhere in his family. His mother was heartbroken when Jeffrey got told he was mentally ill, knowing he couldn't break the circle of illnesses in his family. That's when she realized her perfect, healthy girl was only an illusion and that she had a boy to care for. Crosses were still everywhere around his house and his mother and aunt would go to church every Sunday morning, but they tolerated him, at least. 

His father, despite his conflicts, was not religious and though he wanted a biological boy, he seemed to be somewhat accepting of Jeffrey's new identity. He liked that he actually got a boy, even if the process was…uncommon. He'd teach him things Jeffrey was interested in, like hardware and fishing, and would spend Sundays by the lake with his father instead of seeing the nasty local priest in the white church by the corner. 

He does remember every time he would get scolded by his mother, a halo of crosses would be seen around her in the living room. It was never on purpose on his mother’s account, but he knew what it meant. She was always trying to wash away or ignore his imperfections, setting an image of him that he could never reach. A failed attempt to get her undead daughter back to life, bring her from the ashes and hope Jeffrey was only a mistake. Her rejection against Jeffrey's true self only caused more trouble to him. 

 His relationship with his mother was always hard. She had already left an eye on him ever since his strange growth at such a premature age, his disinterest in religion and his aloof, quiet personality. But as tough and cold Frances Beaumont was, she was breaking on the inside. He knew she got her illness from her parents, his grandmother did yell at her in a ferocious way the last time Jeffrey saw her before Frances decided to not greet her anymore. And she blamed Jeffrey for not breaking the cycle.

One cold night in 1968, when Jeffrey was five years old, he heard his mother shriek. He was peeing when he sensed his mother was in danger. He quietly flushed the toilet and, tiptoeing, went to his parents' bedroom frame. He could see them under the darkness, the moonlight highlighting certain parts of his parents' naked bodies.

 His mother was full of pleasure, but she was crying and moaning in pain. Jeffrey remembers his mother's words, saying that those sounds were what someone made when they were in hell. Sounds that only God could listen and that would take them  to hell. His father was pulling her by the hair, on top of her. He couldn't believe it. 

Jeffrey blinked, horrified but concerned about his mother's wellbeing. He continued to watch the situation, his mother's screams filling his head with a million different possibilities. If he had witnessed that now, he would do nothing unless the situation escalated to another level. He could never stand against his father. He would watch, as he did as a child. But even without challenging his father that night, he was caught.

“Mom?” Jeffrey had mumbled, witnessing his mother's assault.

Aunt Barbara grumbled in surprise to see her nephew watching such a scene, and crossed her arms. "You should be in bed. You're still a baby." Jeffrey blinked and his mother shrieked again.

 He remembers his father's furious, red face, and the following words: "I love you, but you asked for it." Jeffrey remembers waking up the next morning with his pillow damp, and his eyes tired, red and puffy. He found it strange to wake up tired, because he had slept the eight hours his mother told him to sleep. The kids at school wondered if he got beat up because of the puffiness in his face. He lied and said he fell from the bed every time a pair of eyes would linger over the puffiness of his hazel eyes.

Sandy gulped at this narration, nervously blinking, her face twisted in a sad smile and worried brows. “And you still get along with them?” Sandy asked him in disbelief, flattening her white skirt. Jeffrey nodded, his face blank.

“Sort of. They tolerate me as much as I tolerate them.” Jeffrey tried to explain, scratching the top of his head. “They don’t really like me being a… a faggot.”

Sandy sighed softly, her eyes lingering once again as she saw the ducks on the lake: happy, quacking as a couple rubbed their feathery heads, swimming with grace. She then glanced at Jeffrey again, trying to make sense of the information.

His parents were different from hers. His troubles regarding his identity, not so much. Sandy tried to say something but stopped herself, frowning. Jeffrey blinked and smiled empathetically at her.

“It's alright. It was quite a lot for you to process. I should've been more-” 

“No, it's none of that.” Sandy assured him by shaking her head softly. Jeffrey nodded. It was followed by a short beat of silence. Sandy's baby blue eyes met Jeffrey's hazel orbs. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Sandy asked Jeffrey.

Jeffrey furrowed his brows in confusion. “About what?”

“You.” Sandy blinked, feeling a little bad. Jeffrey blushed, and gulped, his dark hair blowing softly.

“Well, I'm the odd one out. Someone had to be it.” He chuckled with not a single bit of joy in his voice, but rather anguish knowing he did not belong in the pretty picture of his town. “I'm aware of other people like me that were in my university, but that's just a memory and exposure is a dangerous thing in my case.” Another thing he could’ve mentioned but saved it was the fact Sandy’s father was a cop, and he certainly didn’t want the law to inspect him or question him for who he was.

 It’s not like he didn’t trust Sandy. But he knew how her father behaved. He was a body language expert and could take him out of her house anytime.

“Dorothy knew.”

“Not because I told her. So did Frank.” Jeffrey remembers a conservation he once had with Dorothy. “They opened me. I welcomed them or else I was going to die.”

Sandy nods, still unsure how to tell him about herself. Jeffrey then shrugs and looks at Sandy with a sad smile.

“I'm really sorry, Sandy. I have to hide or else I'll be torn apart.” Jeffrey mumbles, his eyes growing glossy. “And we already know Lumberton is hell on Earth under a pretty picture.” 

“Yeah.” Sandy nods again, making Jeffrey sigh and fix his sitting position, his mouth turning into a sad frown.

“I’m really sorry, Sandy. I promise I-”

“No, I'm sorry.” Sandy apologized to Jeffrey. “I just don't know how to say it.”

Jeffrey blinks, calming down slightly. He's still silent, as he waits for Sandy to reply.

“I understand.” Sandy confesses to him, her voice cracking, fixing her long strand of hair over her shoulder. “I'll open up to you about it.” 

“Alright.” Jeffrey replied.

Sandy took a deep breath and gulped. “I'm so glad I'm not the odd one out anymore.” And Jeffrey immediately understood, but instead of smiling, he was flabbergasted. Sandy shed a tear as she whimpered.

“Awh Sandy… It's fine. God, it's alright sweetheart.” Jeffrey promised her, wiping her tears with his thumb. Sandy nodded, holding Jeffrey's hand close to her face. 

“I know. I didn't know how to put it in words.” Sandy mumbled, as Jeffrey kept wiping her tears. “I guess it's my turn now to talk about me.” 

Jeffrey then snapped back to reality, and furrowed his brows in concern. “Sandy… Do people know about it?” 

Sandy frowned. “I know I'm in the eye of the press most of the time here… A shorter answer is ‘my father wouldn't let me get harmed’, basically.” 

Jeffrey scoffed, looking away at how two-sided Sandy's father could be. If Jeffrey hadn't stopped Frank, he would've opened Sandy apart. And her father wouldn't have cared about it. And it infuriated Jeffrey. 

“Jeffrey, I know.” Sandy added, as she looked away too. “I don't look at him the way I did before.” 

Jeffrey looked at Sandy again, reaching out to hold her hand. “I could never let anyone hurt you.” 

Sandy sighs, smiling softly at her boyfriend. “I know, Jeffrey… That doesn't mean you should keep getting yourself harmed to protect me.” 

And Jeffrey fell silent again. He did not want to talk about this now. So he just looked into Sandy's eyes again.

“I used to be a boy named Alexander.” Sandy told him in a soft voice. Jeffrey nodded.

“And I was Judy.” Jeffrey replied to her. Sandy chuckled and shook her head softly, shrugging.

“It sounds weird saying it. It all started when I was a toddler.”

The Beaumont’s only supported Jeffrey because he was their obligation. However, the Williams supported Sandy because they wanted the best of her and truly loved her. Of course, things had a rocky start.

When Sandy turned four, the Williams would wake up every day to their child screaming, throwing the police car toys across the room and crying. John would scold her and leave the room, but Pam would bring her and let her use her dresses, realizing her child would stop crying when she wore them. 

Pam was confused at first, and so was John, until they saw a professional and realized they had a daughter. John wasn't pleased about it at first, but Pam was. John eventually realized he had to accept her because Sandy never did anything other than being herself and was just the human equivalent to a cherubim. She was just a child.

Sandy had always been the apple of her parents eyes. They were always more than proud of her and did their best to give her everything she wanted as well as educating her into the kind and smart young lady she had become.

 Sandy’s room soon turned pastel pink and ribbons were all around her bedroom, and she could finally wear the beautiful, flower patterned dresses she saw her friends wear.

Sandy was spoiled in several instances. She could do as she pleased without consequence thanks to her father. On one occasion, after negotiating and discussing with the elderly woman that worked as a shopkeeper in the toy store, Sandy got a free doll for being the detective's daughter. Her mother paid for the toy anyway and scolded her, and Sandy never did it again. But man, did it feel good being her.

Again, no one said anything to her because she was the daughter of a powerful man. At least not in her face. And she always used it to her advantage to do things that could benefit her or even others. Eleven years before she even knew who Jeffrey was, that benefit worked against Sandy.

People had always been marveled by Sandy's inspiring story at how she found herself at a young age. But not because she was finally herself, people didn't think of Sandy as an incredible, strong girl who deserved to be loved and respected. She was a creature for others to stare and look at, gawk at it like they did with others, except Sandy could barely notice that through her young eyes.

She was only the daughter of a cop to the rest of the town. False assumptions being thrown at a young girl that grew into a small group of three people campaigning against her as an act of revenge against Detective Williams. Sandy overheard it on a phone call.

They wanted to kidnap her. They wanted to catch her and hurt her outside her school and God knows when they were going to free her even if her father paid the criminals. Sandy was afraid for the first time in her life.

But Sandy wasn't such an idiot. She stayed inside her school and peeked out from inside one of her classroom windows with the excuse that she had to find her pencil, which was stuck under a table. A janitor found her, trembling and hiding under the window and Sandy had no choice but to tell him.

The men were arrested and the janitor never worked at that school again after the generous reward Sandy's father gave him. Sandy obviously lied, and her father let it slide knowing that Sandy knew about the criminals.

Despite that incident, Sandy had a quiet childhood for the most part. She had many friends and teachers always saw to it that she was not hurt or assaulted. After Sandy's story, Jeffrey sighed and stood with Sandy. The sun was dipping below the horizon and there was a cool breeze ruffling the couple's skin.

"Let's go home, my parents are going to the theater tonight with my Aunt Barbara." Jeffrey offered Sandy. Sandy nodded her head and walked with Jeffrey to his home.

After making a call home to let her parents know that she would be staying at Jeffrey's until his parents returned, Sandy went upstairs and found Jeffrey's humble bedroom. She peeked her head through the open door and saw Jeffrey putting on a black sweater. At his feet was a box that had "clothes to donate" written on it with a marker.

"What's that?" Sandy asked him. Jeffrey sighed and smiled a little. Jeffrey kneeled down and pulled out a thick, baby blue sweater from the box.

“Try it.” Jeffrey told her with a smile, walking out of his room to leave her alone to change. Jeffrey’s smile shrinked as he succumbed once more to the darkness downstairs, looking for a photo album he thought had been thrown out but it wasn’t.

When he came back, Sandy was smiling from cheek to cheek. She chuckled and hugged him, as Jeffrey tried to smile a little. 

“I love it.” Sandy smiled, closing her eyes. Jeffrey sighed softly. 

“I'm glad you do.” Sandy looked over at the photo album, as they sat on the floor. Jeffrey opened his nightstand and pulled out a frame of a strange looking girl with medium, flowy black hair, haunted eyes and scarlet red lipstick. Sandy frowned.

“Dorothy?” Sandy asked him. 

“No. That's me in highschool.” Jeffrey sighed, looking back at his old photo. Sandy gasped softly, as Jeffrey nodded. “High school was okay. Very boring, I was obviously the basketcase. My grades worsened but they later came average.” Jeffrey tried to avoid the subject of highschool as much as possible. Sandy noticed his reluctance on tackling the topic of his years in highschool, but decided to leave it for later.

“Well, I finished it a month ago.” Sandy nodded. “I still don't know how I managed to get out of there, almost harmless.” 

Jeffrey chuckled. “Is that ‘almost’ because of Mike?” Jeffrey asked her, Sandy giggled, then cringed.

“Ugh, yeah. That douchebag.” She nodded, looking out at Jeffrey's window. “He… He didn't behave any differently from my friends regarding…you know…” Sandy trailed off, shaking her head no.

“He treated you like a boy?” Jeffrey asked her, as Sandy started to scroll through the photos of Jeffrey's photo album, seeing him as a young boy. Sandy took a deep breath, then sighed and frowned.

“Don't get me wrong, sometimes I still feel like one. Like I'm a grown-up version of Alexander. But I'm not him.” Sandy told him. Jeffrey nodded at this, understanding where she was coming from. “Mike would do “boy things” with me when our friend group got extremely drunk.”

All those parties where they'd get so drunk and pull out the most disgusting pranks. Those were the things the boys in Sandy's class would do. Sandy would tell them not to and would refuse to participate in them, yet she would end up in the middle of their pranks, with her head in the toilet the next morning. She liked to have fun, but not this way. 

“You’re the best boy I have never met, Sandy.” Mike would compliment her after she was the only one from his group of male friends that would survive the intense pranking. Sandy was too dizzy from the alcohol at that time to register Mike’s embrace. 

“You mean the best girl, right?” Sandy snorted, then laughed. “You’re so stupid, Mike!”

“At least I’m still standing! That dipshit of Paulie is fighting for his life in the bathroom…” Mike mumbled, laughing with her.

“Wasn’t he Pauline?” 

“Right, Pauline.” And they kept laughing throughout the entire night until Sandy accidentally cut herself with a broken bottle and alarmed the whole neighborhood with a high pitched scream she had let out as her reaction. 

It was a scandal, local newspapers had done small articles regarding how the detective’s daughter had turned into a nasty girl, and Sandy got grounded for a week. She had felt so ashamed. That was the first and last hangover Sandy had. 

She was just sixteen and two years ago, she had thought it would be nice to do what the others did for once. She almost didn’t get to throw her sweet sixteen party because of this. Her image had been barely affected to her surprise, but she’d get called “glass hands” by her friends, causing her to become smaller every time they’d use that name on her.

Sandy shivered, grimacing. “God, I don't think I want to remember those party nights.” Sandy told Jeffrey, as he nodded. Her eyes then drifted to Jeffrey's photo album, and found a photo of Jeffrey on Christmas of 1982, with a chestnut haired girl. 

“Who's this?” Sandy asked him. Jeffrey looked over and sighed.

“That's Louise. Louise Wertham, my girlfriend in college. We broke up through a phone call when I came back to Lumberton.” Jeffrey confessed. Sandy pouted.

“Was she nice?” Sandy asked him.

“Too nice. Too insecure, too.” Jeffrey nodded, then blinked. “She was growing tired of me for eavesdropping and playing detective during college.” That was a way to say it, Sandy chuckled and nodded.

“How surprising.” Sandy told him. Jeffrey chuckled and nodded. 

“She didn't stop liking me though. I hope this marriage she's in now will make her happier than she was with me.” Jeffrey admitted, nodding. 

“Did you make her happy?” Sandy asked her. He tried.

He tried to make Louise happy. But Louise was too insecure, too sad. Poor thing, she had gone through hell and back with her last boyfriend and despite Jeffrey's efforts to help her get back on her feet, he could still see she didn’t need him. They weren't fit for each other. 

He started college and found himself close friends with the group of dorks that would wander at the end of the hallway in the main building. 

The music they'd listen to, the underground comics they'd read, the artsy films they'd watch… Jeffrey was attracted to all of this, and it was something Louise would usually reject, but she loved the amount of love Jeffrey would pour into these things.

He remembers the first night he made love to Louise, still surprised that such a pristine girl like her would fall for him. 

Before they could even start to make love that night, Louise started to cry. Jeffrey froze, as he laid down by her side. “Are you alright darling?” He asked her. Louise whimpered.

“You're going to hit me, aren't you?” Louise blubbered. Jeffrey gasped softly and shook his head no, brushing his thumb over her bare shoulder to comfort her. 

“Louise, I won't. Never in my life.” Jeffrey promised her. Louise kept crying.

“Sorry. I see you and I see him. I'm not ready.” She confessed through tears. Jeffrey pulled on his pajamas and spooned Louise, wrapping his arms around her. 

“It's fine. Let me put you in your pajamas.” He reached over for Louise's night shirt, when Louise sniffled.

“Why are you always… getting yourself involved in other relationships?” Louise asked him, referencing all the times she'd caught him hiding in the smallest corners of the building, observing and later stopping the assaults he'd see in the hallways and rooms when he was running out of time.

Jeffrey froze. “I don't think anyone should be forced to do things they don't want to do.” Jeffrey whispered. It went beyond that. He didn't want to explain it more to Louise, and he never did. He only comforted her and never tried to make love again, only reducing their touching to cuddling and kissing.

Sandy sighed, as Jeffrey nodded. “She seemed happy with her husband, when she called me through the phone about it. She was too much of a turnaround, she was very hesitant about what she was doing all the time. I hope this marriage actually turns out fine for her.” He told Sandy.

“Always getting with the strangest girls, aren't you?” Sandy asked him, Jeffrey smiled a little and nodded. 

They had spent the entire day talking about their lives and Sandy still didn't know what happened to Jeffrey in highschool. After a long beat of silence, Sandy spoke again. 

“Jeffrey, can I ask you something?” Sandy asked him.

“Sure.” Jeffrey replied to her, his eyes on his old photo, his fingers softly tracing over the glass.

"You never told me what happened in high school. What happened?" Sandy pointed out, noticing Jeffrey skipping over his high school years in the conversation. Jeffrey looked at her and his smile faded, all the memories slowly falling back on him. 

“I told you, it was nothing interesting.” Jeffrey lied, putting his hand over Sandy's, stopping her from scrolling further through Jeffrey’s photo album. Sandy looked up at him and blinked, as Jeffrey left the photo album over his desk and sighed, his hands gripping once again on his old highschool photo. 

Tears were pooling in his eyes, as Sandy sighed and gulped. “Did you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?” And Sandy had hit the nail.

"A boyfriend. His name was Ken. I called him Kenny." Jeffrey told her, his voice growing shaky.

Jeffrey, despite starting to dress more like a boy, was still seen as the opposite of his persona; and an envious, tall, strong blonde boy named Kenny had a crush on him. But Kenny didn't love Jeffrey, Kenny loved Judy. 

Kenny treated Jeffrey like he was a prize he got, he never saw him as a person. He would show him off to all his friends for the simple fact that Jeffrey had accepted a gift from Kenny. Jeffrey thought he should have a boyfriend just like the other girls in his class, because he was the only one without a partner. He had done it out of pure desperation and lust, he never loved Kenny.

There was one instance after gym class, where Jeffrey had just taken a shower and was dressing in a pair of clean clothes. Kenny had finished showering, and smacked Jeffrey’s butt with a towel. Jeffrey gasped and turned around, as Kenny forced himself on Jeffrey. No one did or listened to Jeffrey’s pleads or whining, much like Jeffrey when his father did the same thing to his mother. They never spoke about it ever again. Kenny excused himself by saying he was tripping.

His family’s opinion of Kenny was conflicting. Fances loved Kenny’s clean boy facade, but Tom and Barbara noticed how quiet and uncomfortable Jeffrey was whenever Kenny spoke. Kenny would assert himself in conversation, exclaim and flex his arms. Jeffrey would shrink back and look away from the table.

On March 7, 1981, Jeffrey injected himself with testosterone for the first time after getting the approval from the doctor his father found him. His life changed for the better from then on, and he increasingly felt like the man he saw in his dreams, who he really was on the inside. Three months later, the changes became noticeable in Kenny's eyes.

His girlfriend's voice started to crack, and Kenny felt that he was no longer the person Kenny wanted Judy to be. One night, Kenny confronted Jeffrey. 

"You're not going to do this to me. Who the hell do you think you are, Judy?" Kenny growled, watching as Jeffrey backed slowly toward the wall.

"I'm not your little sex toy. And having the title of your girlfriend is humiliating." Jeffrey admitted, trying to keep his composure and not show himself vulnerable. Kenny ran towards him and grabbed him from his then long hair. Jeffrey whined, closing his eyes shut.

"You think you’re so brave… Don't you, 'Jeffrey'?" Kenny growled, throwing Jeffrey to the bed and pinning his wrists on the bed. Jeffrey gulped and whined.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Please leave me alone.” Jeffrey begged him, gulping, Kenny's hands traveling down Jeffrey's legs.

“You're nothing but a dirty tranny. I can't believe I've dated someone so sick and perverted.” Kenny murmured through gritted teeth. He wasn't going to let anyone call him dirty ever again.

Jeffrey hit him in the groin with his knee, and then smacked him across his face. Jeffrey’s face was tinted a dark shade of red, as tears started to fall from his eyes. “Shut up!” Jeffrey howled. 

His parents came right into his room. Before Kenny could get up, as he tried to process the pain in his groin, Jeffrey kicked him again. Frances pulled Jeffrey to his bed, while Tom dragged Kenny outside, leaving him out of the house.

Jeffrey only cried silently as he hid his face with his hands. Frances sighed in disappointment, leaving Jeffrey's bedroom. Jeffrey sank to the floor, crying, until he slipped on his pajamas and got inside his bed, going to sleep. Jeffrey went to prom night alone, not a sight of Kenny. His classmates ignored Jeffrey throughout the entire night, and continued to do so when Jeffrey graduated. 

Sandy noticed how Jeffrey froze, crying silently. His expression was pained, but didn't show it in his eyebrows or in his mouth. Teardrops fell on the only photo Jeffrey had kept to himself from his highschool days. Sandy sighed and wiped his tears.

“Sandy, no.” Jeffrey whined, feeling Sandy's warm touch. His hands trembled, as they stopped gripping on the photo, dropping it to the floor. 

The glass shattered, as Sandy took some steps back to avoid getting cut. Jeffrey stared at his own hands, and gulped. He looked at the mirror behind him and saw Judy, then Dorothy. He moaned in horror at this realization, and sniffled, trying to cover his face with his hands. 

Sandy frowned, trying to help Jeffrey get up.

“Jeffrey…” She whispered, heartbroken to see her boyfriend cry.

“Sandy, do you see her too?” He asked her in a brittle voice. Sandy looked into the mirror and saw Alex instead of herself. Sandy screamed in horror, as the room felt blurry and strange around them. 

In slow motion, Sandy tried to reach for Jeffrey's face, feeling his soft fingers tracing circles on her cheeks, was she crying? They were both moving in slow motion, their faces and bodies changing upon their eyes. They didn't even recognise themselves anymore. A strong wind blew, almost turning into the crackle of the fire consuming a candle. 

Sandy screamed, as Jeffrey tried to reach for her.

“Sandy, I'm sorry… I didn't want to do this…” Jeffrey's voice was distant, it echoed around the room as if Jeffrey's darkened bedroom was an enormous, deep cave. 

Sandy shook her head no softly, crying. Her hands grew wet, brushing soft, clammy skin. “I pushed you…” Where was she? She didn't hear herself correctly. She was far away, losing control. So was Jeffrey.

“I don't want to be Judy anymore.” Jeffrey told her. He didn't want to be Judy nor Dorothy anymore. It was hurting him. And then Sandy didn't see herself or Jeffrey anymore. 

The vines of the roses from Jeffrey's backyard were wrapping tightly around their limbs, their faces turning blue. They were suffocating in the room, running out of breath. 

Then, the roses disappeared but their bodies felt soft and fragile, as it seemed like they floated away from everything. Shortly, they regained their breath, but have become a mystery of their own, they were just blurs of the people they had met before over the people they used to be. 

Then, Sandy saw Judy, then Dorothy, and for a slight second, Frank. There wasn't a sight of Jeffrey around the room. She then heard Jeffrey moaning, then crying in agony, lying down, covering his face with his hands. 

His face was indecipherable, it was morphing and changing constantly; a blur of different faces. Sandy reached for him, but he kept crying.

“I’m falling…” a little voice mumbled.

Sandy sniffled, her tears falling down her cheeks, missing the warmth and comfort she had felt earlier.

“Jeffrey, please talk to me…” Sandy begged him. Her voice sounded strange. It was Alex.

“Who am I?” Jeffrey asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Sandy shrugged, and shook her head no.

“I don't know. Who am I?” Sandy asked him back, lying down, crying.

“I don't know either. But you're too good for me. And… I love you. That's all I remember. Please stay with me…” Jeffrey pleaded, choking on his tears.

It all came back to Sandy at that moment. She nodded, and suddenly, Jeffrey held her hand.

“I love you too… I wish… I could remember who you are.” Sandy whispered.

“I wish I could, too.” Jeffrey sniffled, nodding.

“Were you Jeffrey?” She brushed his black hair softly.

“Not when I was born.” His hand brushed the top of Sandy's shoulder.

“I wasn't Sandy when I was a baby either.” She blinked, wiping her nose.

“But you're Sandy to me.” His hand traveled to her cheek.

“And you're Jeffrey?” She asked him.

“I thought I was a neat girl.” He admitted, his tears rolling down his cheeks.

“You are. You're also a neat guy.” She reminded him, always seeing through him. The faces started to become more defined, but the result was so much different.

“Who’s a neat guy?” He squeaked.

“You are.” She replied to him. 

“But I'm not a neat guy.” He mumbled.

“Why not?” It took him a while to reply to her question. He shrugged and softly shook his head.

“I'm not meant to be a neat guy named Jeffrey. I'm a dirty girl.” He admitted, crying.

“Then who are you?” She asked him again.

“Judith Beaumont. Judy, for short.” He told her nodding.

“I never met Judy.” She told him.

“Then how do you know me?” He blinked away his last tears.

“I don't know you. I know Jeffrey.”

“I can't possibly be Jeffrey.” He told her, gulping. 

There was silence. The wind blew softly around them, in a much gentle, lighter manner. A bright light shone above them.

“Why do you love me?” He asked her in a desperate manner.

“Because you're a neat guy, Jeffrey.” Sandy told him with a soft smile.

“I'm Jeffrey?” He asked her, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Sandy nodded, as she chuckled. She blinked, and Jeffrey was right in front of her. 

“Yes you are. Not, Judy. Not Dorothy. Jeffrey.” Sandy whispered. He'll never stop seeing his past self and Dorothy in his life, but at the same time, they were never going to be him. He was just himself.

At this realization, Jeffrey smiled widely through his tears, and held Sandy close, holding her hand. 

“I love you Sandy.” Jeffrey whispered.

“And I love you, Jeffrey.” Sandy mumbled, as they kissed softly under the moonlight. 

Their romantic moment stopped when they heard screaming. Jeffrey blinked and sat up, and looked at the back porch. It was his mother with a furious expression. Behind her, it was his father, his aunt and Sandy's parents with worried expressions.

Jeffrey looked at his surroundings, and noticed they were in Jeffrey's backyard. The grasshoppers were chirping, the birds were sleeping in the trees and the moon shone brightly above them.

“Do I have to ask you again? It's time for dinner, Jeffrey. The Williams are here with us since you wouldn't pick up the phone.” She grumbled, shaking her head no softly. Jeffrey and Sandy's faces flushed a bright red, as Jeffrey helped Sandy stand up, brushing off the grass from her skirt.

Their parents came inside, as Jeffrey looked at them then back at Sandy, sighing and then blinking.

“What happened?” Sandy asked him, confused.

“I don't know. It was like a dream, wasn't it?” Jeffrey asked her, holding Sandy's hand. Sandy nodded.

“I agree.” Sandy told him. “If it would have been a dream, we would be in your room.” 

“Right. Unless we're sleepwalkers, we wouldn't have woken up here.” Jeffrey joked, as they both laughed. 

“You're right about that…” Sandy nodded, sighing, as Jeffrey smiled. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Jeffrey asked her.

“Why are you even asking that? You're my boyfriend… Sure.” Sandy asked him, as Jeffrey chuckled. 

“I don't know, I wanted to make sure you were fine with it…” Jeffrey told her, as they walked to the porch. Sandy giggled.

“You can be so silly at times, tidbit.” Sandy told him, making Jeffrey laugh.

“Well, tiddlywinks…” Jeffrey started, as he opened the door to Sandy. He then thought about it twice and shrugged. “You're right about that. I'll let you win this one.” 

Sandy got inside the house, and Jeffrey followed soon after. Before he could close the door, he saw a sneaky cockroach attempting to get inside. He stomped on it and then closed the door, not allowing the darkness or any dirt inside anymore.

[thetalentedmrkashyap]

B-8 : Sixty Years of The Beatles - The Memories of A Fan

As I write this article, I've started watching the Disney+ Series called The Beatles: Get Back. It was about the recording of Let It Be, their final album. It talked about the tension and differences among the Fab Four (John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr) and the end of an era of music. 

What you're going to read is not a theoretical research paper about the history of the four Liverpool lads. It's not about their early stint as The Quarrymen, their original lineup with bassist Stuart Sutcliffe & drummer Pete Best, or their early gigs in Hamburg (Germany). It's not even about how manager Brian Epstein discovered the young talent, or for that matter - how Ringo replaced Pete Best as the drummer. It's about how a fan feels about it and its place in the fan's heart - as the band celebrated sixty years of its first album, Please Please Me (1963) - in March this year.

Talking a bit about myself, I first heard about the Beatles in a childhood story of John Lennon (1940-1980) that got published in Scharda Dubey's book The Best Days of Our Lives. I read it in September 2012. More than three years later (December 9, 2015), I came across a news story about the Beatles Ashram reopening at Rishikesh, Uttarakhand. I know the exact date because the previous day was the 35th death anniversary of Lennon. After reading it, I searched for them on YouTube - and that's when I heard the first ever song of The Beatles - We Can Work It Out. I kept to it for days before exploring the other musical gems. I was fourteen - and in ninth grade back then.

Every teenager faces adolescence-related problems (physical & emotional changes, insecurities, mental health, peer pressure, etcetera). For rescue comes a solution that proves to be life-changing. In my case, it was the music of the four lads from the unknown coastal city of Liverpool (not to mention that it became famous because of the band). Many of their contemporaries came along the way.

My personal Beatles souvenir Collection (Which I have maintained since 2016)

Coming back to The Beatles, my favorite Beatle was Lennon. Seeing them in live performances and music videos, I began practicing their songs on my keyboard - and eventually bought a guitar to match them. Like an ordinary obsessed fan, I bought souvenirs - guitar pics, music CDs, T-shirts, books, phone covers, etcetera online. I don't think any Indian fan could get such stuff in here that easily - even during the band's popularity years. They would get in the USA and UK - where such things would sell like hotcakes. I even made a poster at 15 about the band - which I pasted in my room.

Thanks to the band, I had quite a reputation as a music performer in school, college, and my locality. I would perform their covers at parties and musical events. Although, I couldn't play their songs in school. But thanks to them, I could look beneath myself to find the skills I possess. Hence, I decided to pursue entertainment journalism/writing. I often write similar songs - and try looking for a music producer to record them. When people suggest music software for completing the songs, I politely respond, "They won't have the same fun as the Beatles - and I want to keep that element in my songs."

As their first single, Love Me Do (1962), celebrated its diamond jubilee on October 5 last year - and their debut album on March 22, I can only say that the boys with the mop-tops are immortal and irreplaceable. Even today, I listen to the entire album the way I did seven years ago. I'm sure there are similar fans like me in different parts of the world - who admire the boys and express their admiration and obsession through various methods. With this, I put my pen down.

[fictionkinfessions]

This might make me sound soft but since I've never shared any of my weird childhood memories here yet I figured it's time. Stoke on Trent in the late sixties and early seventies was absolutely RAMPANT with stray cats (now to my knowledge that's not the case irl, that I know of, but bear with me here) and in an event wildly out of character for me, I remember being a kid and running back and damn forth to feed those kitties and pet them and love them. They seemed to gravitate towards me in a way. I felt terrible that I could never let them into the house and keep 'em as my own, though. I don't think my dad ever found out... if he wasn't forcing me to perform for a few pounds at a pub, his eyes were always somewhere else and not on his kids.

(And speaking of cats, many many pets and treats to our lovely mod) #⛓️🥃

🐸

[staticl0ve]

my LOVE. i'm here to bother you with ASK MEME QUESTIONS. hit me with a sweet sweet 2, 5, 8, and 14✨

SWEETHEART. COME HERE AND LEMME KISS YOU.

2. What is your favorite fic of yours?

This is cheating but, probably The Boy Next Door since it covers all the RKs (I swear I’ll make one for Markus someday). I say it feels like cheating cause it’s not based on canon, everything about it has nothing to do with androids and one could say it’s a fic that uses the actor’s faces and has nothing to do with DBH.

It’s my favorite series cause I got to explore so much with characters that in canon: have no…childhood. I really wanted to embrace a human AU where it’s just the characters you know and love but a “what if” they existed as kids in the 90s/early 2000s. It felt like an ode to fanon and not canon which was really fun to do.

5. Do you like one shots or multi-chapters?

I love the no pressure that comes from one-shots. There’s no need to worry about “how does the plot work out?” But I find that I tend to want to end chapters pretty soon, usually 4k words in and I much prefer 2 shots.

That said! I love building multi chapter fics cause it gives me room to do world building but they haunt me LMAO. I gotta write them as fast as I can or else they drag out (like Eden did, I swear I’ll finish the epilogue). I’m almost done with The Pig and the Fox but I can feel the desire to write waning. 💀

8. Do you take inspiration from real life? If so how do you incorporate it into your fics?

Cackling. Uhm. A lot comes from romcom tropes or inspired by other shows/movies I’ve watched but there are scenarios that I based on reality or use them as a seed to a bigger idea. I’m a little ADHD myself so it was insanely easy writing a human AU Sixty.

When writing more passionate scenes between two characters and their physical chemistry, I try to draw from personal experiences. From scenes as simple as a cuddle or a heated kiss. Write what you know as they say!

14. What is something you wrote in a fic that you are hoping readers picked up on but you don't know if they did? And/or, what is something that you were excited that readers did pick up on?

The most noticeable one I can think of are all the clues I’ve laid out in Dollhouse that allude to the ending. 😏😏😏 I wrote it in the hopes that people might be interested in rereading it to see if they’ve missed anything.

Chaos is normally the master of surprise so most of my stories don’t have a ton of suspense !

Sometimes I include really obscure references in my writing. Like there’s a line in the Pig fic: “Dreaming before your cybernetics were installed was…well, the same as it ever was.” I thought it’d be funny to reference Talking Heads - Once in a Lifetime there. There’s a bunch stuff like that scattered across all my writing cause it makes me giggle when I edit.

[ollifree]

Lovers quarrels just got a whole lot messier.

(aka they’re all in charge and gay)

Her Majesty, Ji-Yu 지유

Fifty-sixth of her line, Ji-Yu was crowned in her early thirties upon the death of her elder sister. Now in her late sixties, Ji-Yu has seen her country through multiple threats from their western neighbors and an actual war with their eastern ones. Her reign finally brought economic stability after her grandfather’s (ahem) rocky leadership. Though boasting no children of her own, her grandniece from a younger brother is set to inherit the throne.

The General, Nia

The reason those threats from the west remained threats, and the war out east was won. Smart, quick on her metaphorical and literal toes, and a master at any weapon placed in her hands. With peace long secured, Nia spends her days languishing - languishing! - at court. Don’t mind how often she tends her weapons. A woman needs a hobby.

The Treasurer, Holly

Darling, you didn’t think the queen sat around counting coins herself, did you? As the daughter of a previous…councilman, Holly’s known Ji-Yu since childhood. Holly was made treasurer soon after Ji-Yu’s coronation, and it was her long hours that pulled the country into financial stability. You’re welcome for being able to afford meat with that bread.

The Priest, Asanda

Who said religion and politics shouldn’t mix? Originally a healer of the temples, Asanda exploited a few legal loopholes to work her way to Head Priest. Good thing she was already a favorite at court before she reached the position. As it stands, the monarchy and the priesthood have never seen such good relations.

The Guard, Dimitra

Guarding the country and its citizens is all well and good, but who’s left to guard the queen? The only person Nia will (grudgingly, after a demonstration) admit can get the upper hand on her. Dimitra is the one with the queen all hours of the day and night. Not that it’s a competition.

The ???, Fatma

She’s just here to look pretty, dear. No, really! You can’t possibly think there’s anything else to do here? All the actual jobs are already taken! Now how about you join her for some tea? She’d love to hear what brings you to court. (She’s the spymaster.)

[picrew]