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lunaathorne · 9 months

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browsing through one last stop edits and am ever so certain that some of you simply choose to refuse to acknowledge the fact that jane is a chinese butch lesbian and not a skinny pale femme with a shaggy wolfcut........ please try harder to source better pictures of butch lesbians, it's so tiring to see this erasure. jane does NOT look like this!

Like???? this is not jane lmaoooo. she is a queer punk leather dyke!!! not an ulzzang korean girl!!!some of you cannot imagine butch lesbians as "aesthetic" and it fucking shows.

THIS IS HOW JANE LOOKS BTW

STOP ERASING BUTCH BODIES FOR AESTHETICS. BUTCH = BEAUTIFUL.

#mimirants #one last stop #casey mcquiston #ols #litedit #litblr #books #lesbian #butch lesbian #butchphobia #sapphic #wlw #jane su #biyu su #august landry #booksociety #lgbtq #bookblr

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queer-book-character-tournament · 2 months

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Character, book, and author names under the cut

Siuan Sanche Sedai- Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan

Raff Barden- One Night in Hartswood by Emma Denny

Biyu "Jane" Su- One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

Theo Bell- Loki- Where Mischief Lies by Mackenzi Lee

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lowryland · 8 months

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do we think. august had to explain 9/11 to jane. or did she like. just put on a crash course video?

#one last stop #casey mcquiston #august landry #jane su #biyu su

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jaxypaxyhaxy · 6 months

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I just finished one last stop and BELIVE ME im not even close to started talking about everything I wanna talk about but having finished the book now one thing I wanna head cannon about the scene in RWRB with Alex reading it is what page he was on.

So we all know he was reading it with Henry and then puts it down to look at his face. (Btw, This post is specifically targeted to people who have read both books and this may contain Spoilers) I have reason to belive that Alex was reading one of two scenes in this book

1) a spicy scene

2) August being/realizing she’s hopelessly in love with Jane ____________________________________________

1) if it was a spicy scene Alex looked up at Henry bc he thought about doing shit with him

2) he was realizing he felt the way August feels. Like bro realized he felt the same way about Henry and just had to look at him and take it all in

Either way it’s cute as all fuckin hell soooo

#one last stop #red white and royal blue #rwrb #casey mcquiston #August laundry #jane su #biyu su #henry fox mountchristen windsor #Biyu x August #henry x alex

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uchireads · 7 months

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“Don’t get too cocky.”

“You might wanna use the door, for balance.”

“Why?”

“Because in a minute you’re not going to be able to feel your legs.”

#biyu su #jane su #one last stop #the love of my motherfucking life #op #pg 224

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high-warlock-of-brooklyn · 2 years

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I finally figured out what it was about IKSW that I didn't make a whole big splash about it unlike Casey's other two books. It's about the good, the bad and the ugly.

Shara had a secret. And to protect that secret she took an ugly, compicated, overcompensating road. Chloe wanted to define herself so went down with the 'Bad Bitch Deal With It'™ persona route. Smith figured out the clues about halfway through but kept silent. Most of the characters in IKSW do bad things, and as teenagers living in a stressful controlling environment, while it may not be justified, the source of their choices can absolutely be understood.

And that's something that's been missing in RWRB and OLS. Alex and Henry never do anything outright morally wrong. The OLS gang, as chaotic as they are, commit multiple felonies but not a moral wrong. Maybe they're grownups, maybe their circumstances are different, maybe Casey has progressed with their writing style. Either way, this is a new thing to have been introduced in the Mcquistonverse.

And let's face it, none of us likes having the ugly side of us being pointed out. And as brilliant an author Casey is, they've pointed something out to each of us that resonated, and those things are not necessarily sunshine and rainbows. Which means, we've put it away, let it wash over and forgotten about it. Because of course I'd rather read about Henry playing piano to Alex or Niko being a psychic plant dad than realize how angry and hurt and raging I've been as a teenager, and how much of that stemmed from the lack of emotional support from the people who were supposed to be it

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daisytrails · 1 year

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casey mcquiston didn’t have to write the hottest woman to ever exist being in love with a woman who is distinctly like me but they did and i love them for it

#casey mcquiston #one last stop #jane su #biyu su #august landry #wlw romance novels #wlw representation #wlw books

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queen-of-hobgobblers · 5 months

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Pieces of You

Set in an alternate universe where Jane goes back to the 1970s permanently. I crave the angst, okay?

tw mild mention of swearing, wet dreams, alcohol, death, homophobia

August still sees Jane.

On the subway, obviously, casually leaned against a pole with one of her lopsided grins. Listening to music on a vinyl player with her arm slung over a seat.

But on the streets, too.

Jane marches in a group that takes up most of the avenue, a sign held in her hands that reads: “Queer As In Fuck You.” Jane’s on a balcony across the street, a few stories up, sprawled out, and sharing takeout with one of her neighbors. Jane is with her at Billy’s, laughing with August as they serve customers, occupying an empty seat at a table next to Niko, Myla, Wes, and her at breakfast.

August sees Jane in her apartment, her leather jacket thrown haphazardly across a chair as she plays with Noodles. Jane sits on the kitchen countertop, long legs on full display, peeling away at an orange and popping a slice into her mouth. She grins when she spots August, vivid tangerine on full display.

August sees visions of Niko looking up from his phone to tell Jane to get groceries and sees the girl shoot him a two-fingered salute as she heads out the door. She sees Jane come home a few hours later and plop a vegan donut into his hand, the one in hers half-eaten.

August sees visions of Jane gearing up for rolly bangs, rough fingers strapping on her helmet as Myla eagerly holds the chair. She sees Jane fly across the apartment before inevitably crashing into something. She hears raucous laughter emanating from the two girls.

August sees visions of Wes complaining that he had barely set the cupcake box down before Jane had begun tearing into them. She sees Jane grin apologetically, ruinous dimples covered in frosting, her crooked tooth on display.

The visions she craves most are those she sees at night. In the quiet of her room, Jane sits on the edge of her bed- illuminated by moonlight, dark bangs swept back rakishly. Her white shirt rides up to reveal acres upon acres of golden brown skin and brightly colored tattoos, her voice an octave lower as she says:

“Hey, coffee girl.”

She sees the two of them holding one another close beneath the covers. Feels their hands shakily intertwine in the dark. Wakes up gasping and breathless the next morning, voice edged around a moan and a sob both.

August runs her hands over the jacket in the corner of her room. Runs her fingers along the cracks and imperfections of worn leather. Puts it on and savors the feeling of the sleeves swallowing up her arms, and the smell of sugar, motor oil, and electricity. It feels like comfort. It feels like loss. It feels like Jane.

She makes a playlist and sets it to private. There she adds “Walk This Way,” “Gloria,” all the songs she and Jane had ever shared. She puts on earphones and listens to them as she goes about her day.

She dances.

August puts on “Love On Top” and dances in the kitchen, Noodles dashing excitedly around her feet. She jives just as terribly as she did the day they got stuck on the subway together. She spins the same way as she did when Jane twirled her and swears she feels warm breath ghosting against the shell of her ear.

She forgets.

August heads towards the falafel stand on instinct, hoping to surprise Jane with a treat when she remembers. She forgets minuscule details in Jane’s story and panics, worrying how much time will blur that smug-ass smile or all the pins stuck to the girl’s backpack. She worries that her memory of Jane will become a photo that’s been copied too many times- washed out, faded around the edges.

August notices.

She notices how warm she feels these days. How she never feels alone anymore, even as one small speck in the bustling city of New York. She notices a rough edge as she slips her hand into her jacket pocket. August pulls a crumpled piece of paper out and reads:

August,

August, August, August.

August is a time, a place, and a person.

The first time I remember tasting a nectarine, my sisters were too small to be allowed in the kitchen. It was only my dad and me in the back of the restaurant, me propped up on the prep table. He was slicing one up, and I stole a piece, and he always told me that was the moment he knew I’d be trouble. He taught me the word for it. I loved the way it felt in my mouth. It was late summer, warm but not hot, and nectarines were ripe. So, yeah. August is a time.

The first time I felt at home after I left home, New Orleans was dripping summer down my back. I was leaning against the wrought iron railing of our balcony, and it was almost hot enough to burn, but it didn’t hurt. A friend I hadn’t meant to make was in the kitchen cooking meat and rice, and he left the window open. The steam kept kissing the humid air, and I thought, they’re the same, like the Bay is the same as the River. So, August is a place.

The first time I let myself fall, it wasn’t hot at all. It was cold. January. There was ice on the sidewalks- at least, that’s what I heard. But this girl felt like nectarines and balconies to me. She felt like everything. She felt like a long winter, then a nervous spring, then a sticky summer, and then those last days you never thought you’d get to, the ones that spread themselves out, out, out until they feel like they go on forever. So, August is a person.

I love you. Summer never ends.

Jane

August cries.

Clings to Niko, Myla, or Wes desperately as she sobs. Wakes up bleary-eyed in the middle of the night to put on Jane’s jacket and listen to music as she stares at the sleeping city below.

August asks Jerry about Jane again.

“I told you,” he grunts irritably. “It was a long time ago. I was wasted. Jane pushed me out of the way of a train just in the nick of time.”

“And then?” August urged, borderline desperate.

Jerry opens his mouth; his eyes glaze over. Seemingly coming out of a stupor, he blinks, and his face twists with remorse. He licks his lips and says:

“She barely made it out alive. Had to be taken to the hospital. Most of the doctors refused to treat her. She was a butch, you know?” He scratches his beard, pain in his eyes. “Short-cropped hair, leather jacket and all. Not exactly welcomed in the 1970s. Took me and a couple of others threatening them to convince ‘em to operate.”

August’s heart dropped into her ass. “Was she okay?”

“She was fine, thankfully. Jane was discharged about a week later, with a few minor scars here and there. Left for San Fransisco the week after that. That was the last time I saw her. Never touched a bottle again after that.”

August digs deep to find records of Jane; she never does. No photos, no death date. It seems she’d gone completely off the map once she had gone to San Fransisco.

August never sees Jane again.

Except this one time.

She’s on the subway, heading across the city, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the warm metal of the pole. There’s a sudden pop! of static right as they duck into a tunnel.

Blackout.

When the lights go on, the subway walls are grimier and covered in graffiti of all colours. The subway is still going through a tunnel.

And standing there in front of her is none other than Jane.

Jane, just as handsome and ruinous as she looked back when they first met. She sports a black Run-DMC t-shirt held together by safety pins, and dark jeans. There’s Kohl around her wide brown eyes, and her bangs are pushed back.

“Jane,” August says.

“August,” she answers.

The walls start to fade out, and August realizes what this is: a glitch in time. One last encore before the scene cuts to black.

A final goodbye.

So she squares up to the world. Pulls herself up to full height against the pole, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

“Hey, subway girl,” she smirks.

“August,” Jane repeats, stunned.

“Hey, Jane,” August whispers back, tone dripping with fondness.

The train leaves the tunnel before Jane can reply, throwing August back into her own timeline. Effectively cutting off their connection for good.

She’ll never see Jane again.

But that’s okay. Life will go on. August will get up in the morning. Will go to work. Come back home to Niko, Wes, and Myla. Go to sleep. Start the cycle again.

Life will go on for both of them, and August can only imagine the exciting adventures Jane had gotten up to in San Fransisco.

“Goodbye, subway girl,” she whispers under her breath, rendered inaudible by the bustle of wheel against track. “Goodbye, Jane Su.”

Thank you for changing my life.

#i know it's not clear here #but while august finds herself in the past #jane sees herself in the future #the timelines are sort of melded together at that point #don't ask me for a logical explanation #i just wanted some sci-fi #jane su #august landry #niko rivera #weston #myla #jerry #one last stop #sundry #my writing #tw mild innuendo #tw alcohol #casey mcquiston #biyu su

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darklesmylove · 2 years

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oh to be a bisexual that moves to new york and gets wooed by a hot butch lesbian stuck in time on a train and does daily research that’s really just making out every day

#:’)#ols #one last stop #jane su #biyu su #august landry #sundry #casey mcquiston #rwrb #red white and royal blue

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darciy · 2 years

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Currently waiting for a One Last stop TV show

#one last stop #casey mcquiston #august landry #jane su #biyu su #ols

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